Homilies on Second Corinthians 27

For I ought to have been commended by you.

Having completed his discourse concerning his own praises, he did not stop there, but again he makes his defence and asks pardon for what he has said, declaring that the matter was one of necessity, not of deliberate choice.

But nonetheless, even though there was necessity, he calls himself foolish.

At the outset, then, he was saying, 'Receive me as foolish,' and, 'As in foolishness';

but now, having removed the word 'as,' he calls himself foolish outright.

For after having established by what he had said all that he intended, being now confident he lays hold, unsparingly, of this fault, teaching all men never, when there is no necessity, to praise themselves—seeing that even when there was a cause for it, Paul named himself foolish.

Then he shifts the whole blame for what has been said, not upon the false apostles, but upon the disciples.

'For you,' he says, 'compelled me.'

For if they had merely been boasting, and were not doing this together with your going astray, nor destroying you, I would not have been led on so far as to descend to these words;

but since they were corrupting a whole Church, looking to what was profitable for you, I was compelled to become foolish.

For I was afraid lest, having gained the first place among you, they should sow their own things.

But this indeed he had set forth earlier, saying, 'I fear lest by any means, as the serpent deceived Eve, so your minds should be corrupted';

but here he speaks not so, rather more authoritatively and with greater confidence, having from what he has said the boldness to do so.

For I ought to have been commended by you.

Then he also states the reason;

and again he does not name the revelations, nor the signs alone, but also the trials.

For in nothing was I behind the very chiefest apostles.

See how here again he speaks more authoritatively.

'I reckon that I have come short in nothing';

but here, thus declaratively, as I said, after the proofs, he now speaks with confidence;

yet not even so does he depart from moderation, nor from his own characteristic manner.

For as one who had said something great, exceeding his own worth—namely, that he had numbered himself with the apostles—so again he moderates himself, and goes on to say:

'Though I be nothing, the signs of an apostle were wrought among you.'

'Do not look at this,' he says, 'whether I am mean and small, but whether you failed to enjoy those things which it was fitting to enjoy from an apostle.'

And he did not say 'mean,' but, what was lower still, 'nothing.'

For what is the profit of being great, and benefiting no one? Just as there is no gain in a skilled physician who heals none of the sick.

'Do not, then,' he says, 'examine this, that I am nothing, but consider that other thing—that in those matters wherein you ought to have been well treated, I came short in nothing, but I gave the proof of my apostleship.'

'There was, therefore, no need of words from me.'

But he said these things not because he needed to be commended;

for how could that be so with one who counted even heaven a small thing beside the longing for Christ? Rather, it was because he yearned for their salvation.

Then, lest they should say, 'And what is that to us, even if you came short in nothing of the very chiefest apostles?'—for this reason he added that 'Among you were wrought the signs of an apostle, in all patience, and in signs, and in wonders.'

Papae! What a vast sea of noble deeds he ran through in a few words!

And observe which he sets first;

for this is the mark of an apostle—to bear all things nobly.

For this indeed he expressed in brief, by a small phrase;

but the matter of the signs—which were not his own achievements—he set forth at greater length.

For consider how many prisons, how many stripes, how many perils, how many plots, how many blizzards of trials he here hinted at, how many internal and external wars, how many pains, how many assaults, under the name of 'patience';

and again, by the signs, how many dead raised up, how many blind healed, how many lepers cleansed, how many demons driven out.

Hearing these things, let us learn, if we fall into the necessity of such narrations, to cut short our own achievements;

Then, lest some should say, 'For even if you are great, and have wrought many things, yet not so many as the apostles wrought in the rest of the Churches,' he added:

'For what is it in which you were made inferior to the rest of the Churches?' 'You partook,' he says, 'of no less grace than the rest.'

But perhaps someone might say, 'Why then does he turn his discourse toward the apostles, letting go the contest with the false apostles?' It is because he wished, out of abundance, to overthrow their pretensions,

their high thoughts, and to show that he was not only better than those men, but not even inferior to the great apostles.

For this reason, whenever he discourses about those false apostles, he says, 'I am more';

but whenever he compares himself to the apostles, he says it is a welcome thing not to have come short, and this though he had laboured more than they.

And he shows from this that they also do outrage to those apostles, whenever they hold one equal to them in second place beneath these men.

'Except that I myself was not burdensome to you.'

Again with much severity he set down the rebuke.

And what follows is yet more weighty:

'Forgive me this wrong.'

But nonetheless, the severity has in it also words of love, and a commendation of them;

if indeed they account it their own wrong that they did not consent for the apostle to receive anything from them, nor took courage to be supported thence.

'If you charge me with this,' he says—he did not say, 'You charge me wrongly,' but with great sweetness—'I ask pardon; forgive me this very sin.'

For since this thing, being continually turned over, brought reproach upon them, he continually soothes it away.

For earlier, saying, 'As the truth of Christ is in me, that this boasting of mine shall not be stopped,' he again said, 'Do I not love you? God knows.'

'But that I may cut off the occasion of those who desire an occasion, and that, in the thing in which they boast, they may be found even as we.'

'What then is my reward? That, when I preach the Gospel, I may make the Gospel without charge.'

And here too, 'Forgive me this wrong.'

For everywhere he avoids showing that it is on account of their weakness that he does not take;

wherefore here also he thus speaks:

'If you consider this to be a fault, I ask pardon.'

And these things he said, both smiting and healing.

If you wish to smite, why do you apologize? If to heal, why do you smite? For this is a mark of understanding—both to lance and to bind up the wound.

Then, lest he should seem, as I said before, to be continually turning it over for the sake of receiving, he heals it even in the former epistle, saying, 'But I have written none of these things, that it should be so done in my case;

for it were good for me rather to die, than that any man should make my glorying void.'

But here it is sweeter and gentler.

How, and in what manner? 'Behold, this third time I am ready to come to you, and I will not be a burden to you;'

'for I seek not yours, but you.'

'For the children ought not to lay up treasure for the parents, but the parents for the children.'

'It is not because I receive nothing that I therefore fail to come; rather, I came a second time also, and this third time I have made myself ready to come, and I will not be a burden to you.'

For he did not say, 'Because you are niggardly, because you take offense, because you are weak;'

but what? 'For I seek not yours, but you.'

'I seek after greater things: souls instead of money, salvation instead of gold.'

Then, since the matter still lay under suspicion, as though he were aggrieved with them, for this reason he also sets down a reasoning.

For since it was likely they would say, 'Is it not lawful for us both to have you and to keep what is ours?' he brings in his defense with great graciousness, saying:

'For the children ought not to lay up treasure for the parents, but the parents for the children;'

putting parents and children in the place of teachers and disciples, and showing that he does as a matter of debt what was no debt at all.

For Christ did not so command; but sparing them, he says these things;

wherefore he also adds something further.

For he did not say only that the children ought not to lay up treasure, but also that the parents are bound to do this.

Since, then, one must give: 'I will most gladly spend and be utterly spent for your souls.'

For the law of nature commanded parents to lay up treasure for their children;

'but I do not do this only; I give my very self besides;'

and this is the surpassing thing: not only not to receive, but even to give besides — and that not in any casual way, but with great munificence, and out of his own want;

for the words 'I will be utterly spent' are those of one hinting at this.

'For even should it be needful to spend my very flesh, I spare it not, for the sake of your salvation.'

And what follows is spoken with reproach and love together:

'Even if, loving you the more abundantly, I am loved the less.'

'And these things I do,' he says, 'for those who are beloved, yet who do not love in like measure.'

Consider, then, how many degrees the matter has.

It was right that he should receive, yet he did not receive;

and that while he was in want — a second;

and while preaching to them — a third;

and he gives besides — a fourth;

and he gives not in any casual way, but with intensity — a fifth;

and not money only, but himself also — a sixth;

and on behalf of those who did not greatly love him — a seventh;

and on behalf of those whom he greatly loved — an eighth.

Him, then, let us also emulate.

For it is a great charge [both to envy] and not to love;

but it becomes greater when one who is loved does not love in return.

For if he who loves the one that loves him has nothing more than the tax collectors,

he who has not even this would be lower than the very beasts.

What do you say, O man? You do not love the one who loves you? Then to what end do you live? Where hereafter will you be of any use? In what affairs? In public ones? In private? By no means;

for nothing is more useless than a man who does not know how to love.

This law even robbers have often reverenced, and murderers, and breakers through walls; and having but shared salt together, they were changed, their manner transformed by the table;

but you, who share not salt only, but words and deeds, comings in and goings out, do you not love? Nay, those whose love is shameful spend whole estates upon harlot women;

but you, having an honorable love, are so cold and feeble and unmanly as not to consent to love even where no expense is required? And who, says one, will be so wretched, who so much a beast, as to turn away from and hate the one who loves him? You do well to disbelieve it, because of the strangeness of the thing;

but if I show that many are such, how then shall we bear the shame? For when you speak evil of the one you love, when hearing another speak evil of him you do not defend him, when you envy him in his good repute — what kind of love is this? And yet not even this suffices to prove friendship, the not envying — just as neither does the not being hostile, nor the not making war; one must also support and advance the one who loves him;

but when a man does and says everything so as even to pull down his neighbor, what is more wretched than such a soul? Yesterday and the day before he was a friend, and you shared words and table with him;

then all at once, when you saw your own member in good repute, casting off the mask of friendship, you put on that of enmity — or rather, of madness.

For it is manifest madness to be stung by the good things of one's neighbors;

for this belongs to madmen and to raging dogs.

For like those dogs, these men too leap at the faces of all, goaded on by envy.

Better to have a serpent coiling in one's bowels than envy crawling within.

For the serpent one may often vomit up by means of drugs, and appease with food;

but envy does not roll about in the bowels; it twists in the bosom of the soul, and is a passion hard to blot out.

And the serpent, though within, would not touch a man's body while food lies at hand;

but envy, though you set before it a table of ten thousand dishes, devours the soul itself, biting on every side, tearing, dragging;

and one cannot find for it any consolation by which it will desist from its madness, save one only — the misfortune of the man who prospers;

thus it is relieved — or rather, not even thus.

For even if this man fare ill, upon seeing another prospering, he is held fast by the same pains;

and everywhere there are wounds, and everywhere blows.

For it is not possible, as one moves about upon the earth, not to see men in good repute.

And so great is the excess of this disease, that even if a man shut himself up at home, he envies the men of old who have long since died.

And that men of the world should suffer these things is grievous indeed, yet not so terrible;

but that even those delivered from the tumults of the world should be held by this disease — this very thing is more grievous than all.

But if silence could also take away the shame arising from the facts themselves, it were gain to say nothing;

but if, even though I keep silence, the facts will cry out more loudly than my tongue, then no harm will come from my words — since our evils are already paraded abroad — but perhaps some gain and benefit.

For this disease has laid hold even of the Church, [and] it has turned everything upside down, and

has torn asunder the order of the body, and we stand against one another, envy arming us.

Hence the great perversion.

For if, even when all are building up, it is much to be desired that those under instruction should stand firm, when we are all pulling down, what will be the end?

What are you doing, O man? You think it profitable to pull down what is your neighbor's;

but before his, you pull down what is your own.

Do you not see the gardeners and the husbandmen, how they all run toward one end? One digs the ground, another plants, another banks up the root, another waters what has been planted, another fences and walls it about, another drives away the cattle;

And all look toward one thing—the preservation of the plant.

But while I plant, another shakes it and tears it about.

Allow it at least to take firm root, that it may become stronger than the plot against it.

You do not destroy my work, but you undo your own.

I planted; it was for you to water.

If therefore you shake it, you have torn up the root, and you have no place left to display your watering.

But do you see the one who plants gaining a good reputation? Do not fear;

neither am I anything, nor are you;

for neither he who plants is anything, nor he who waters;

the work belongs to One—to God.

So then, in tearing up what has been planted, you strive and make war against Him.

Let us therefore at length come to our senses; let us be watchful.

I do not dread the war from without so much as the strife from within;

for even a root, when it is well fitted to the earth, will suffer nothing from the winds;

but if it is itself shaken, with a worm gnawing it from within, it will fall even though nothing troubles it from outside.

How long shall we, after the manner of worms, gnaw at the root of the Church? For such thoughts are begotten of the earth;

or rather, not even of the earth, but of dung, having corruption for their mother;

and they will not desist from the contemptible flattery that comes from women.

Let us at some time become noble men; let us become athletes of true wisdom; let us drive away this abundant crop of these evils.

For indeed I behold the multitude of the Church now cast down like a dead body.

And just as in a body newly deadened one may see eyes, and hands and feet and neck and head, yet none of the members performing its own function;

so too here—all who are present are believers, yet the faith is not active;

for we have quenched the warmth, and have made the body of Christ dead.

And if what has been said is dreadful, it is far more dreadful when it appears in our deeds.

For we bear the names of brethren, but the deeds of enemies;

and though all called members, we stand apart from one another like wild beasts.

These things I have spoken not from a wish to parade our faults, but to shame you and to turn you away from them.

So-and-so entered a house and received honour;

whereas you ought to give thanks to God that your member is honoured and God is glorified, you do the very opposite;

you speak ill of the one who bestowed the honour, so as to trip up both, and to bring shame upon yourself besides.

For what reason, wretched and miserable man? You heard a brother being praised, whether among men or among women, and were grieved? Add to the praises;

but if you actually pull down the praise, you have first spoken ill of yourself, gaining a bad reputation, while you have exalted him all the more.

When you hear someone praised, become a partaker in what is said—if not by your life and virtue, at least by rejoicing in his good qualities.

Has so-and-so praised him? Do you also admire him;

and thus that man too will praise you, as a kind and forbearing person.

Do not be afraid, as though you were pulling down your own standing in praising another;

for that is what happens in the case of accusations.

For the human race is contentious;

and when it sees you speaking ill, it heightens the praises, wishing thereby to sting you, and to blame the accusers within itself, and to malign them to others.

Do you see how much unseemliness we become the cause of to ourselves? how we destroy the flock and tear it asunder? Let us at length become members; let us become one body;

and let the one who is praised deflect the praises, and transfer the commendations to his brother;

while the one who hears another being praised, let him rejoice together with him.

If we thus draw ourselves together, we shall draw the Head also toward ourselves;

but if we are divided against

one another, we shall also drive away the help that comes from thence;

and when that has withdrawn, the body will receive great harm, no longer being held firmly together from above.

In order, then, that this may not happen, let us drive away envy and jealousy, and, disregarding the glory that comes from the many, let us embrace love and concord.

For thus shall we attain both the present good things and those to come;

which may it be granted 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, honour, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.