Homilies on Second Corinthians 19

For concerning the ministry to the saints, it is superfluous for me to write to you.

After having said so much about it, here he says: It is superfluous for me to write to you.

And this is not the only mark of his shrewdness—that after saying so much he says, It is superfluous for me to write to you—but also that he speaks about it yet again.

For the things he had said a little before were spoken concerning those who received the funds, that they might enjoy much honor;

and the things before those, which he discussed concerning the Macedonians—that their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their liberality—and all the rest, concerned lovingkindness and almsgiving.

Nevertheless, though he had said so much before, and was about to speak yet again, he says: It is superfluous for me to write to you.

He does this in order the more to draw them on.

For a man who has such a reputation—as not even to need counsel—is ashamed to appear inferior to that estimate and to fall short of it.

So too in accusation he often does this, speaking by way of omission;

for indeed this has great force.

For the judge, seeing the magnanimity of the accuser, thereafter harbors no suspicion.

For he reasons thus: One who, though able to say much, has not said it—how could he fabricate things that are not? And this makes the judge suspect even more than had been said, and it invests the accuser with the appearance of an upright character.

This he does both in counsel and in eulogy.

For having said, It is superfluous to write, observe how he counsels:

For I know your readiness, of which I boast on your behalf to the Macedonians.

Now it is a great thing that he himself knows it;

but far greater is it that he has proclaimed it to others as well;

for otherwise they would not have been willing to be so shamed.

Do you see the shrewdness of his purpose? By means of others, namely the Macedonians, he urged them on.

For I make known to you, he says, the grace of God which has been given in the Churches of Macedonia.

For you, he says, not only to do, but also to will, made a beginning a year ago.

He urged them on from the example of the Lord;

For you know, he says, the grace of our Lord, that though He was rich, yet for our sakes He became poor.

Again he takes refuge in the strong point—the argument drawn from others.

For the human race is prone to jealous emulation.

And indeed the example of the Lord ought rather to have drawn them, and after that, the argument from the recompense;

but since they were the weaker, he draws them the more by this means.

For nothing has so great an effect as jealous emulation.

But observe how he introduces even this in a rather novel way.

For he did not say, Imitate these men;

but what? Your zeal has stirred up the greater number.

What do you say? A little before you said that they were spontaneous, beseeching us with much entreaty;

how then Your zeal? Yes indeed, he says;

we gave no counsel, we did not exhort, but we only praised you, we only boasted, and this sufficed to spur them on.

Do you see how he rouses them one by means of the other, these by those and those by these, and to the emulation he has mingled a very great commendation? Then, that he may not puff them up, he proceeds with restraint, saying:

Your zeal has stirred up the greater number.

Consider then how great a thing it is that, having become to others the cause of this generous ambition, they should themselves fall short in this contribution.

For this reason he did not say, Imitate those men;

for that would not have kindled so great an emulation;

but how? Those men have imitated you;

let not you, the teachers, appear inferior to your disciples.

And observe how, rousing and kindling them the more, he pretends to stand together with them, as though in some rivalry and contest claiming their side for his own.

For just as above he said that Of their own accord, with much entreaty, they came to us, begging us to send Titus, that as he had made a beginning, so he might also complete this grace among you;

So here also he says, 'For this cause I sent the brethren, that our boasting might not be made void.'

You see him in anguish and trembling, lest he should seem to have said what he said merely for the sake of exhortation; rather, 'Since this is so,' he says, 'I sent the brethren.'

'So great is the zeal I exercise on your behalf, that our boasting may not be made void.'

And throughout he seems to make himself one with the party of the Corinthians, although he cares for all alike.

'I take great pride in you; I adorn myself with you before all; I have boasted of you also to those men.'

'So that, if you fall short, the shame is common to us both.'

And even this he says with measure;

for he added, 'In this respect;'

'that, as I said, you may be prepared.'

'For I did not say that they are intending to give, but that everything has been made ready, and nothing further is lacking to them.'

'This, then, I wish to be demonstrated by deeds,' he says.

Then he even heightens their anxiety, saying:

'Lest perchance, if Macedonians come with me and find you unprepared, we—that we say not, you—should be put to shame in this confidence of boasting.'

The shame is the greater when he brings in many spectators, the very men who have heard his boasting.

And he did not say, 'For I am bringing Macedonians with me,' or 'For Macedonians are coming with me,' lest he should seem to be doing this on purpose;

but how? 'Lest perchance, if Macedonians come with me.'

'For it may happen,' he says, 'that this comes to pass; it is among the things possible.'

For in this way he made his words free from suspicion;

whereas had he spoken in the other way, he would have made them even more contentious.

See how he leads them on not from spiritual considerations only, but also from human ones.

'For even if you count me as nothing great,' he says, 'and are confident toward me as one who will pardon you, yet think of the Macedonians—lest perchance, if they come, they should also find you—'

and he did not say, 'unwilling,' but 'unprepared,' not yet having completed the whole.

But if this is a shame—the failure to contribute promptly—

consider how great a shame it is to contribute nothing at all, or less than is fitting.

Then gently, yet strikingly, he sets down what would result from it, speaking thus:

'We—that we say not, you—should be put to shame.'

'In this confidence of boasting;'

not making them more remiss, but showing that those who are held in esteem in other things ought in this also to have great boldness.

'Therefore I thought it necessary to send the brethren ahead, that they might arrange beforehand this your bounty, that it might be ready as a bounty, and not as extortion.'

Again he took up the same point in another way;

and that he might not seem to be saying these things idly, he declares that the reason for the journey is none other than that they should not be put to shame.

Do you see that the words, 'It is superfluous for me to write to you,' were the beginning of counsel? You see, at any rate, how much he discourses about this ministry. And along with this one may say this also: that he might not seem to contradict himself—calling it superfluous and yet discoursing about it—while speaking of promptness and lavishness and readiness, through these he establishes that point as well.

For he requires these three things, and he set these heads in motion at the very beginning also;

for when he says, 'In a great trial of affliction the abundance of their joy, and their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their liberality,' he says nothing other than that they contributed both much, and with joy, and with promptness; and not only did the giving not grieve them much, but not even their being in trials did—

which is a heavier burden than giving.

And the words, 'They gave themselves to us'—this too shows both their readiness and how exceedingly they believed.

And here again he handles these same points.

For since these two things stand opposed—munificence and cheerful willingness—and he who has given much is often despondent, while another, to avoid the pain, gives less: see how he cares for both, and with the sagacity that is proper to him.

For he did not say, 'It is better to give a little with free choice than much under compulsion;'

since he wished them to contribute both much and with free choice;

but how? 'That they might arrange beforehand your bounty, that it might be ready as a bounty, not as extortion.'

First he begins from what is most pleasant and lighter—the giving that is not under compulsion;

'For,' he says, 'it is a blessing.'

See how, in the very course of his exhortation, he at once shows the fruit springing up, and those who give it filled with blessing.

And by this very name he drew them on;

for no one gives a blessing with grief.

Nor was he content with this, but added:

'Do not suppose,' he says, 'that we receive it as men grasping for gain, but so that we may become to you the cause of blessing.'

For extortion belongs to the unwilling;

so that he who gives alms unwillingly gives extortion, not alms.

Then from this he passed again to the other point—giving munificently.

That is to say, 'Along with this I affirm that also.'

What is that? That 'He who sows sparingly shall also reap sparingly;'

'and he who sows bountifully shall also reap bountifully.'

And he did not say 'stingily,' but used the fairer word, employing the name of the sparing man.

And he called the matter a sowing, that you might at once look to the recompense, and, thinking of the harvest, learn that you receive more than you give.

Therefore he did not say, 'He who gives,' but, 'He who sows;'

and he did not say, 'If you sow,' but makes the statement universal.

Nor did he say, 'lavishly,' but, 'upon blessings.'

And again he takes refuge in the former pleasant point, saying:

'Each one according as he purposes in his heart.'

For a man does more when he is granted liberty than when he is compelled.

Therefore he also dwells upon this;

for having said, 'According as he purposes,' he added:

'Not out of grief, nor of necessity.'

And he was not content even with this, but adduces testimony from Scripture as well, saying:

'For God loves a cheerful giver.'

Do you see how continually he sets this down? 'I speak not by way of commandment,' and, 'Herein I give my judgment,' and, 'As a bounty, and not as extortion;'

and again, 'Not out of grief, nor of necessity;'

'for God loves a cheerful giver.'

Here, I think, 'cheerful' is used to mean 'bountiful.'

Yet he himself takes it up in the sense of giving with eagerness.

For since the example of the Macedonians, and all the other things, were sufficient to produce liberality,

he does not say much about that, but rather about not giving unwillingly.

For if it is a work of virtue, while everything done of necessity

cuts short the reward, then he acts reasonably in doing this.

And he does not merely counsel, but also prays—which he always does—saying:

'And God is able to make all grace abound toward you.'

By his prayer he removes the reasoning that lurks beneath this generosity—the very thing which even now hinders many.

For indeed many are afraid to give alms, saying:

'Lest somehow I become poor, lest somehow I come to need help from others.'

So then, dissolving this fear, he adds the prayer, saying:

'That all grace may abound toward you.'

Not simply 'be filled,' but 'may abound.'

And what does 'that grace may abound' mean? 'That you may be filled,' he says, 'with so much as to be able to have a surplus in this generosity.'

'That having all sufficiency in everything always, you may abound unto every good work.'

See in his prayer too how great is his wisdom.

He prays not for wealth nor for superfluity, but for all sufficiency.

And this is not the only admirable thing about him; but as he did not pray for superfluity, so neither does he oppress them nor compel them to give out of their want, condescending to their weakness; rather he asks for sufficiency, and shows at the same time that one must not misuse the gifts that come from God.

'That you may abound,' he says, 'unto every good work.'

'For this reason,' he says, 'I ask these things, that you may also supply others.'

And he did not say 'that you may supply,' but 'that you may abound.'

For in fleshly things he asks for them sufficiency, but in spiritual things even superfluity—not in almsgiving only, but in all other things as well;

for this is what 'unto every good work' means.

Then he brings the prophet forward to them as a counselor, seeking a testimony that summons them to bountifulness, and he says:

'As it is written, He has scattered abroad, He has given to the poor;

his righteousness abides forever.'

For the word 'He has scattered' indicates nothing else than giving with bountifulness.

For even if the goods themselves do not abide, yet the things that come of them abide.

For indeed this is the marvel, that things guarded perish, but things scattered abide, and abide forever.

And here he called love of mankind 'righteousness';

for indeed it makes men righteous, consuming their sins like fire, whenever it is poured out with bountifulness.

Let us not, then, calculate too precisely, but let us sow with a lavish hand.

Do you not see how much others give to mimes and to harlot women? Give but half to Christ of what those men give to dancers;

as much as those men give in vainglory to the people on the stage, give even that much to one who hungers.

For those men clothe the bodies of prostitutes with unspeakable gold;

but you clothe not even with a bare garment the flesh of Christ, and that though you see it naked.

What pardon does this deserve, nay, how great a punishment, when that man bestows so much on her who destroys and shames him, but you give not even the least to Him who saves you and makes you more glorious? Rather, spending on the belly and on drunkenness and on debauchery, you never make mention of poverty;

but if you must remedy poverty, you become poorer than all men;

and while feeding your parasites and flatterers you rejoice as though spending from fountains;

but if anywhere you see a poor man, then the fear of poverty besets you.

For this very reason we shall then be condemned both by ourselves and by others—both by those who have done well and by those who have failed.

For one will say to you: 'Why were you not thus magnanimous in the things that befit you? But this man, giving to a harlot, reckoned none of these things;

yet you, supplying the Master who bade you not to be anxious, are full of fear and trembling? And of what pardon could you be worthy? For if a man will not overlook one who has received from him, but will repay the favor, how much more will Christ?'

For He who gives even without having received, how shall He not give after having received? 'What then,' one says, 'when some, after spending much, over and above not receiving, even come to need others?' You speak of those who have spent their all, while you give not even an obol.

Promise to empty out your all, and then ask about those men;

but as long as you are sparing, and supply little out of your abundance, why do you put before me pretexts and excuses? For we are not leading you to the very summit of poverty's height, but for the present asking you to cut off what is superfluous

and to love sufficiency alone.

And sufficiency is defined by the need of those things without which it is not possible to live.

No one drags you away from these, nor forbids you your daily food;

coverings, not adornments.

Nay rather, if one should examine it accurately, this above all is true luxury.

Whom should we call the more luxurious—the one nourished on herbs, who is healthy and suffers nothing unpleasant, or the one who has a Sybaritic table and is full of countless diseases? It is plain that it is the former.

Therefore let us seek nothing more than this, even if we desire both to live luxuriously and to live in health;

and by this let us define sufficiency.

And let him who is able to be content with pulse and to keep in health seek nothing beyond these;

but let not him who is weaker, and needs the remedy that comes through herbs, be hindered.

And if anyone is weaker even than this, and needs the moderate aid that comes from meats, neither will we debar him from that.

For it is not in order to slay men and destroy them that we give this counsel, but that we may cut off what is superfluous; and superfluous is that which is more than the need.

For whenever we can pass our life healthily and decently even without a thing, that thing added is altogether superfluous.

Let us reckon this also concerning garments, and concerning the table, and concerning the house, and concerning all other things;

and let us everywhere seek the need.

For what is superfluous is also useless.

When you have practiced sufficiency, then, if you wish to become an emulator of the widow, we shall lead you on to things greater than these.

For you have not yet attained to that woman's love of wisdom, so long as you are anxious about sufficiency.

For she rose even above this;

for the very things that were to have sustained her, all these she cast in.

Will you then still be in doubt about the necessaries, and are you not ashamed to be worsted by a woman, and not only not to emulate her, but even to fall very far short of her? For she did not say the things spoken by you: 'But what if, having spent all, I be compelled to need another?' Rather she generously stripped off all she had.

What could one say of that woman in the Old Testament, in the days of the prophet Elijah? For to her the danger was no longer about poverty, but even about death and dying—not her own only, but also her children's.

For she did not expect to receive from others, but to die straightway.

But she saw the prophet, one might say, and for this reason became generous.

Yet do you not see ten thousand saints? And why do I say saints? You behold the Master of the prophets Himself begging, and not even so do you become kind to your fellow men;

but though you have storerooms bursting and overflowing from this into that, you do not share even out of your abundance.

What do you say? He who was present was a prophet, and this was what persuaded her to be so magnanimous? Now this very thing is worthy of much wonder, that she was persuaded that he was great and marvellous.

For how did she not say what one might expect a barbarian and foreign woman to reason—namely, 'If he were a prophet, he would not have had need of me; if he were a friend of God, God would not have overlooked him? Granted, the Jews pay this penalty for their sins;

but this man, from what cause and why?' Yet she thought none of these things, but opened her house to him, and before her house her mind, and set all her possessions in the midst; and setting aside nature, and despising her own children, she preferred the stranger above all.

Consider then how great a punishment shall be laid up, when we prove inferior to a widow woman—poor, of an alien race, a barbarian, a mother of children, knowing none of the things we know—and are weaker than she.

For we are not brave men merely because we have a strong body.

For he alone possesses this virtue, even though he be laid low upon a bed, who has his strength from within;

since without this virtue, even if a man should pluck up a mountain by his bodily might, I would say he is no stronger than a wretched little girl or a poor old woman.

For the one wrestles against bodiless evils, while the other does not even dare to look them in the face.

And that you may learn that this is the definition of courage, gather it from this very example.

For what could be braver than that woman, who stood firm against the tyranny of nature, against the violence of famine, and against the threat of death,

nobly, and became stronger than all? Hear then how Christ proclaims her aloud.

'For there were many widows,' He says, 'in the days of Elijah, and to none of them was the prophet sent, but only to her.'

Shall I say something great and paradoxical? This woman contributed more toward hospitality than our father Abraham.

For she did not run to a herd, as he did, but out of that handful of meal she surpassed all those renowned for hospitality.

For he indeed prevailed because he set himself to this task;

but she prevailed because she did not spare even her own children for the stranger's sake, and that too without expecting the things to come.

But we, though a kingdom is set before us, though hell is threatened, and—what is greater than all—though God has wrought so much on our behalf and rejoices and delights in these things, we have grown slack.

Nay, let us scatter abroad, let us give to the poor as we ought to give.

For God does not measure the much and the little by the amount of what is given, but by the ability of the giver's means.

Often, indeed, you who cast in a hundred gold staters have contributed less than the one who deposited but a single mite;

for you gave out of your abundance.

Nevertheless, even so continue to do, and you will soon come also to greater liberality.

Scatter your wealth, that you may gather in righteousness.

For righteousness does not consent to come together with wealth, but has stood by us through wealth, not with wealth.

For it is not possible that the desire of wealth and righteousness should dwell together;

for they have their tents set apart.

Do not then contend to bring together things that will not mix, but drive away the tyrant, the love of money, if you wish to receive the queen.

For she is the queen, and she makes free men out of slaves;

Wherefore with all diligence let us flee the one and embrace the other, that we may both obtain freedom here and attain the kingdom of the heavens;

which may it be granted to us all to attain, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, and honour, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.