Homilies on the Acts of the Apostles 41

And having entered into the synagogue, he spoke boldly for three months, reasoning and persuading concerning the things of the kingdom of God.

Observe how everywhere he thrusts himself into the synagogues, and thus goes forth;

for everywhere he wished to take his starting point from them, as I have said.

For henceforth the Gentiles were provoked to jealousy, and eagerly received him, while the Jews, seeing the Gentiles receive him, repented.

He wished to draw the disciples away from there and to take his beginning from them, so that they should no longer assemble together;

and not without reason did he do this.

For this reason he discoursed with them continually, because he was persuading them.

Therefore, because you have heard of boldness, do not suppose that it was harshness;

he discoursed concerning good things, concerning the kingdom;

who would not have listened? But as some were hardened and disbelieved, speaking evil of the Way before the multitude, he departed from them and separated the disciples, discoursing daily in the school of a certain Tyrannus.

And this took place for the space of two years, so that all who dwelt in Asia heard the word of the Lord Jesus, both Jews and Greeks.

With good reason did they call the preaching the Way.

For truly this was the way that leads into the kingdom of heaven.

In the school, it says, of a certain Tyrannus he held discourse.

And this continued for the space of two years, so that all, both Jews and Greeks, heard the word.

Do you see how much his perseverance accomplished? Both Jews and Greeks were listening.

And God worked no ordinary miracles by the hands of Paul, so that even handkerchiefs or aprons were carried from his body to the sick, and the diseases departed from them, and the evil spirits went out of them.

It was not only by wearing them that they touched them, but they also took them and laid them on.

For this reason Christ did not permit him to depart into Asia, reserving him for this occasion, as I for my part suppose.

But certain of the wandering Jewish exorcists undertook to name over those who had the evil spirits the name of the Lord Jesus, saying:

We adjure you by the Jesus whom Paul proclaims.

Thus they did all things for the sake of gain and traffic.

They were not willing to believe, yet by means of the name they wished to cast out the demons.

How great was the name of Paul!

There were certain seven sons of Sceva, a Jewish chief priest, who did this.

But the evil spirit answered and said to them:

Jesus I acknowledge, and Paul I know; but who are you? And the man in whom the evil spirit was leaped upon them, and having overpowered them, prevailed against them, so that they fled out of that house naked and wounded.

And this became known to all, both Jews and Greeks, who dwelt at Ephesus.

So then they used to act in secret, but afterward their weakness was paraded openly.

And fear fell upon them all, and the name of the Lord Jesus was magnified; and many of those who had believed came confessing and declaring their deeds.

For since these men had gained such power as to do such things by means of the demons, it was fitting that these things should come to pass.

And a good number of those who had practised curious arts brought their books together and burned them before all, and they reckoned up the prices of them, and found it fifty thousand pieces of silver.

So mightily grew the word of the Lord and prevailed.

Seeing that there was no longer any profit to them from them, they burned the books.

This is the very time when even the demons themselves do these things.

So then the name effects nothing, unless it be spoken with faith.

Well then did He say, 'He who believes in Me shall do greater works,' hinting at this matter of the shadows.

See how they used the very weapons against themselves. And he held discourse, it says, in the school of a certain Tyrannus for the space of two years.

There the believers were, and exceedingly firm believers.

Thus they thought Jesus no great thing, seeing that they added Paul also, as though by this they reckoned Him to be some great one.

Here it is worthy of wonder how that demon did not co-operate with the deceit of the exorcists, but rather confuted them and made their imposture manifest.

It seems to me that, being greatly enraged, just as one in the last extremity of peril, when he is confuted by some pitiable and wretched person, wishes to vent all his fury upon that one.

For lest the name of Jesus should seem to be despised, having first confessed it, it thereupon received power.

For that the weakness was not in the name, but the whole was the effect of their imposture — why did not these same things happen in the case of Paul? And the man, it says, leaped upon them.

Perhaps he tore their garments and dashed their heads together;

for this he indicated by saying, 'Leaping upon';

that is, having sprung upon them with a rush, so that this was enough to accomplish such a thing.

What means this: 'Departing from them, he separated the disciples'? He checked, it says, their evil-speaking.

This he does and withdraws, since he did not wish to inflame their envy, nor to cast them into further strife.

And by the words 'He spoke boldly,' it says, showing that he was arrayed even against dangers, and discoursed more openly, not veiling the doctrines.

Hence we learn not to come to close quarters with those who revile us, but to withdraw from them.

He did not revile in return, though himself being evil spoken of, but rather discoursed daily, and by this especially winning over the many, in that, though evil spoken of, he did not spring away nor separate himself.

And observe: since the trial from those without had ceased, it began from the demons.

Do you see the Jewish hardness of heart? Seeing his very garments working these things, they gave no heed.

What could be greater than this? But to them it turned out rather to the contrary.

If any of the Greeks is unbelieving, let him behold the shadow working these things, and let him believe.

Thus by his withdrawing from them, those who reviled and slandered the doctrine (for this it was that he called 'the Way') were defeated;

but he himself withdraws, so that neither should the disciples fall away, nor should he stir up those men to wrath, showing that everywhere they were thrusting away their own salvation.

And henceforth here he does not even make his defence to them, seeing that everywhere the Gentiles were believing.

And he discourses, not simply having sought out the place, but where there was a school, as being more suitable because the people gathered together there.

How great was the power of those who believed, in that they also imparted the same to others!

And how great the hardness of heart of those who, even after the demonstration of the power, still remained in unbelief!

Just as Simon sought the grace of the Spirit for the sake of merchandise, so also these men did this for the sake of that very same thing.

And why in the world does Paul not rebuke them? Because the matter would have seemed to be one of envy;

for this reason it is ordered thus.

This also happened in the case of Christ;

but at that time it was not hindered (for it was the beginning of the matters);

since Judas too, though he stole, was not hindered;

but Ananias and Sapphira were even put to death;

and many Jews, even though they resisted, suffered nothing, but Elymas was struck blind.

For I came not, He says, to judge the world, but that the world might be saved.

The Jews, still remaining such, wished to make gain by trafficking in the name;

so that they did all things for reputation and for profit.

Consider that everywhere men are not so much converted from the kindly things as from the fearful ones.

In the case of Sapphira fear fell upon the Church, and men did not dare to join themselves to them;

here they received handkerchiefs and aprons and were healed, and after this they then came confessing their sins.

From the leaping upon them it is shown that the power of the demons is a great thing, whenever it has to do with unbelievers.

And why did the evil spirit not say, Who is this Jesus? but rather uttered those unprofitable words? It was afraid lest it too should pay the penalty;

for it knew that the being permitted to avenge itself upon those who mocked with it this name was what had wrought this.

And why did the wretched men not say to him, We believe? They were afraid of Paul;

and yet how much more illustrious would they have been had they said this, if indeed they had appropriated His lordship? Besides, what had happened at Philippi had also brought these men to their senses.

But consider for me here the writer's freedom from all offensiveness, and how he writes history only, and does not slander.

This is what made the Apostles wonderful.

But whose sons they were, he tells both the name and the number.

thereby giving those of that time a trustworthy proof of the things he was writing.

And for what reason did they go about? For the sake of trade;

for it was not indeed to proclaim the word.

for how could they? Yet henceforth they ran well, preaching by the very things they suffered.

Wherefore, declaring this, he says: 'And this became known to all who dwelt at Ephesus, both Jews and Greeks.'

Ought not this to have converted even those who were hardened, tell me? Yet it did not convert them.

for nothing can persuade wickedness.

But come, let us see the very matter of the exorcists, how great its wickedness is.

But for what reason this did not happen in the case of Christ—that is a question for another occasion, and not the present one.

except that here it happened well and profitably.

But to me it seems that they did this in mockery;

wherefore they are punished, so that from this too no one might henceforth dare, even at random, to name the Name.

This led many of those who had believed to make confession;

this also struck fear into them, and became the greatest proof that God knows all things.

Before they were convicted by the demons, they accused themselves, fearing lest they should suffer the same things.

For when the very demons that had aided them become their accusers, and not their allies, what hope remains, or what confession through works? But behold what evils come to pass a little after, though such signs had been wrought.

For such is human nature;

it quickly forgets the benefits it has received.

Or do you not remember that this very thing happened also in the events of our own day? For tell me, did not God shake the whole city last year? What then? Did not all run to the illumination of baptism? Did not fornicators and effeminate and corrupt men, forsaking their brothels and the haunts in which they lingered, undergo a change and become devout? But when three days had passed, they returned again to their own wickedness.

But whence does this come to pass? From great sluggishness.

And what wonder if, when the events have passed away, the same thing happens, seeing that even while the very images remain perpetually before us, it is the same? The things at Sodom, tell me, do they not remain perpetually? What then? Have the neighbouring peoples become the better for them? By no means.

And what of Noah's son? Was he not such a one?

Beholding with his own eyes such vast desolation, was he not wicked? Let us then not marvel how they did not believe when these things came to pass, seeing that faith itself is often turned by them into its very opposite, into wickedness;

as, for instance, when they say that the Son of God is possessed by a demon.

Or do you not see even now these things happening, and that many men are serpentlike, unbelieving and thankless, who, like vipers, when they have enjoyed a kindness and been warmed by certain persons, then grieve their benefactors? These things have been said by us, that no one may marvel how, when such signs came to pass, not all were converted.

For behold, in our own times there came to pass the things concerning the blessed Babylas, the things concerning Jerusalem, the things concerning the destruction of the temples, and yet not all were converted.

What need is there to tell of things of old? Last year I told you what came to pass, and no one gave heed, but again little by little they slipped away and fell.

The heaven stands perpetually crying aloud that it has a Master, and that this Whole (I mean the world) is the work of some Artificer; and yet some say that it is not so.

The things that happened last year concerning that Theodore—whom did they not astound? And yet nothing more came of it, but having become devout for a season, they returned again to that from which they had become devout.

This too befell the Hebrews of old;

wherefore also the prophet said:

'When He slew them, then they sought Him out, and turned back and rose early to seek God.'

And what need is there to speak of things universal? How many have fallen into sicknesses? How many, on recovering, have promised to work a great change, and again have become the very same? This above all shows us the free choice and the liberty of our nature—the sudden change.

For if the evils were natural, not even this would have come to pass;

for we cannot remove ourselves from the things that are according to nature and necessity.

'And yet we do remove them,' he says.

For do we not see some who by nature have the power of sight, yet are blinded by fear? Since this too belongs to nature—to contract itself when another nature comes upon it;

so that it is according to nature for us who are frightened not to see, and according to nature also that, when a greater fear comes upon us, the other should give way.

'What then,' he says, 'if chastity too be according to nature, and fear, prevailing over it, cast it out?' What then, if I show you some who not even then are made chaste, but even amid these fears are shameless? This is not natural.

Shall I tell the things of old? Or rather the new? How many indeed remained fixed in those very terrors, laughing and mocking, and suffered nothing of the kind? Tell me, did not Pharaoh at once change, and run back to his former wickedness? But here, in the case of those who had the demons—though they were not ignorant of them—those who spoke the words simply added on:

'We adjure you by the Jesus whom Paul proclaims';

for by the things whereby they make their defence, it is shown that they know.

But those men say 'Jesus' simply, when they ought to have said 'the Saviour of the whole world, the One who rose again';

but they were unwilling to confess His glory.

Wherefore also the demon convicts them, leaping upon them and saying:

'Jesus I know, and Paul I am acquainted with.'

'You do not believe, but abusing the Name you say these things.'

'Therefore the temple is deserted, the vessel easy to overcome;

so that you are not heralds,' he says, 'but you belong to me.'

Great is the fury of the demon.

The Apostles were able to do these things to them, but for the time being they did not.

For those who have mastery over the very ones that work these things upon them are far greater than they.

See how their forbearance is displayed: that those who are driven out do such things, while the demons that are ministered to do the opposite.

'Jesus,' he says, 'I know.'

Be ashamed, therefore, you who do not know.

For he knew that he was a herald of God.

Then he leaps upon them and tears their garments;

by the things he did to them, all but saying this:

'Do not think that I do these things out of contempt for those men.'

Great is the demon's fear.

And why did he not tear their garments apart from these words? For thus he would both have satisfied his fury and put a stop to the error.

He feared, as I said, the unapproachable power, and he would not

have had such strength, had he not said this.

But observe everywhere that the demons are more candid than the Jews, and that they do not dare to gainsay, nor to accuse the Apostles, nor Christ.

There they say: 'We know Thee, who Thou art';

and, 'Art Thou come hither before the time to torment us?' and again, 'I know Thee who Thou art, the Son of God';

but here: 'These men are servants of the Most High God';

and again: 'Jesus indeed I know, and Paul I am acquainted with.'

For they greatly feared and trembled before those holy men.

Perhaps some one of you, hearing this, longs to attain to this same authority, so that demons should not be able to look him in the face, and for this reason counts those holy men blessed, because they possessed such great power.

But let him listen to Christ, who says:

'Rejoice not, that the demons are subject unto you.'

since He knew that all men rejoice in this above all else, on account of vainglory.

For if you seek what is pleasing to God and what is profitable to the common good, there is another and a greater way.

It is not so great a thing to deliver a man from a demon as it is to rescue him from sin.

A demon does not hinder one from attaining the kingdom of heaven; nay, he even helps toward it—unwillingly indeed, yet he helps, by making the one who has him more sober-minded.

May it never befall me to obtain such a chastening!

Neither do I desire it; but rather I desire that a man should do all things out of another motive—out of love for Christ.

But if—which God forbid—it should come to pass that one must call upon Him even for this,

if then this one does not cast out, but that other does cast out, to deliver from that other is the greater benefit.

Let us therefore be earnest to deliver our neighbors from this, and, before our neighbors, our own selves.

Let us see whether we ourselves have a demon;

let us examine ourselves strictly.

Sin is more grievous than a demon;

for the one, at least, makes men humble.

Or do you not see those who are demon-possessed, when they recover from their affliction, how downcast they are, how gloomy? how their faces are full of shame? how they dare not even look you in the face? Behold the strangeness of it:

they are ashamed for the things they suffer, while we are not ashamed for the things we do;

they, when wronged, feel shame; we, when we do wrong, feel no shame;

and yet their case is not worthy of shame, but of pity and compassion and pardon, and of much wonder and ten thousand praises, when, wrestling with such a demon, they bear all things with thanksgiving;

but our case is truly worthy of laughter, of shame, of accusation, of punishment, of retribution, of the uttermost evils and of hell, and worthy of no pardon at all.

Do you see that sin is more grievous than a demon? And they, out of the evils they suffer, gain a twofold profit:

the one, that they are made sober and more given to true wisdom; the second, that, having paid the penalty of their own sins here, they depart pure to the Master.

For concerning this we have often discoursed, and have shown that those who are punished here, if they bear it with a right spirit, are likely to put away many of their sins.

But from our sins the terrors are twofold: the one, that we give offense; the other, that we become worse.

Not in this only are we wronged by sin, that we sin, but in yet another thing also, that the soul receives a habit, just as it is with the body;

for it will be clearer when stated by way of example.

For just as one who has had a fever is not only wronged in this, that he is sick, but in that after the sickness he becomes weaker thereafter, even should he return to health from a long illness;

so it is also in the case of sin: even though we are in health, we still need much strength.

For consider with me one who has committed an outrage and has not been punished:

we should weep, not only for this, that he pays no penalty for the outrage, but there is cause to mourn for another reason also.

What then is this? That his soul has thereafter become more shameless.

For with each of our sins, once the sin is wrought and has ceased, a kind of venom is deposited in our soul.

Do you not hear certain persons saying, when they have recovered from sickness, 'I dare not any longer drink water'? and yet he has recovered;

but the sickness has wronged him even in this.

And they, though suffering evil, give thanks;

but we, though faring well, blaspheme God and are impatient;

those who do this in health and wealth, or in poverty and sickness.

For the demon stands over him like a truly stern executioner, threatening much, like a schoolmaster stretching out the strap and nowhere allowing him to be dissipated.

But if some are not sober even so, yet at least those men pay the penalty.

For just as fools, just as madmen, just as children are not called to account, so neither are these;

for of things done not in knowledge no one is so cruel as ever to exact a penalty.

Therefore we who sin are in a far worse condition than those who are demon-possessed.

But is it because we do not foam at the mouth, nor distort our eyeballs, nor our hands? Would that we did this in the body, and not in the soul!

Do you wish me to show you a soul foaming and unclean, and a distortion of the eyes of the understanding? Consider those who are angry and drunk with rage: how much filthier than foam are the words they cast forth? Truly, like foul-smelling spittle do they spew them out.

And just as those know none of those present, so neither do these.

For their understanding being darkened and their eyes distorted, they see neither friend, nor foe, nor one worthy of reverence, nor one to be despised, but they look on all men alike.

Do you not see them trembling too, just like those? But they do not fall to the ground? Nay, but their soul lies on the ground and falls, writhing;

for if it stood upright, it would not have suffered those things which it suffered.

Or does it not seem to you to belong to a prostrate soul, one that has lost its own sobriety, both the things which men do and say when drunk with rage? There is yet another kind of madness more grievous than this.

What then is this? When they cannot even endure to let go their anger, but nourish within themselves, like some household executioner, the remembrance of wrongs.

For remembrance of wrongs destroys first of all the men themselves, even from this present time, that I may pass over the things to come.

For how great a torment do you think it is to a man smitten in soul, considering each day how he may avenge himself on his enemy? Such a man first punishes himself, and takes vengeance on himself by swelling with rage, fighting against himself, set on fire within.

For of necessity the fire must burn within you continually;

and prolonging the fever to such a degree, you do not let it abate, and you think you are inflicting some evil on him, while in truth you are wasting yourself away, bearing the flame continually at its height, and not allowing your soul any rest, but ever being made savage, and holding your reason in turmoil and in tempest.

What is more grievous than this madness—to be continually grieved, and swollen, and inflamed? For such are the souls of those who remember wrongs;

wherever they see the one on whom they wish to be avenged, straightway they are smitten;

if they hear his voice, they collapse, they tremble;

if they are lying on their bed, they picture to themselves ten thousand tortures, stringing up and torturing that enemy;

and besides this, if they see him also in good repute—alas, the torment!

Forgive him the trespass, and free yourself from the torment.

Why do you remain forever punished, in order that you may once punish and take vengeance on him? why do you contrive for yourself a chronic disease? why do you hold fast your anger, which wishes to be rid of you? 'Let it not remain even until evening,' says Paul.

For like a kind of wasting and moth, so does it gnaw through the very root of our understanding.

Why do you shut up a wild beast within your own bowels? Better to have a serpent or a viper lying in the heart than wrath and remembrance of wrongs;

for those would straightway have made an end of us, but this remains forever, fixing in its teeth, injecting its venom, marshalling its cruel thoughts against us.

'But I do these things,' he says, 'that he may not laugh me to scorn, that he may not despise me.'

O wretched and miserable man! You do not wish to be laughed at by your fellow-servant, yet you wish to be hated by your own Master? You do not wish to be despised by your fellow-slave, yet you despise the Master? You cannot bear to be despised by him, yet you think God is not indignant, because you laugh Him to scorn, because you despise Him, being unwilling to obey Him? But that he will not even laugh you to scorn is plain from this.

If then you retaliate, great is the laughter, great the contempt;

for the thing is a mark of littleness of soul.

But if you let it go, the wonder is great indeed.

'But he does not even know of it,' someone says.

Let God know it, that you may have the greater reward.

For 'lend,' He says, 'to those from whom you do not hope to receive again.'

So too let us do good even to those who are not aware that they are being benefited, lest by repaying us with praise, or with whatever it may be, they diminish our reward.

For when we receive nothing from men, then we shall receive the greater from God.

And what is more ridiculous, what is colder, than a soul that is perpetually angry and bent on taking revenge? This disposition is womanish and childish.

For just as a woman is angry even at inanimate things, and unless she strikes the floor does not let go of her wrath, so too these men wish to avenge themselves on those who have grieved them.

so too these men wish to take vengeance on those who have grieved them.

For to be mastered by wrath belongs to a childish mind;

but to master it belongs to manly courage.

It is not we, then, who are laughed at when we practice this philosophy, but they.

It is no mark of contemptible men, this—not to be overcome by passion;

but it is the mark of contemptible men to tremble so at the laughter of outsiders, that for its sake one chooses to fall under his own passion, to offend God, and to avenge himself.

Let him say that, though the man did us countless evils, he himself suffered nothing;

let him say that, even if he should again riot against us, he will suffer nothing.

He would not otherwise have proclaimed our virtue, he would not have sought other words, if he had wished to praise us, than these very ones which he seems to speak in reproach.

Would that all said these things about me—that 'He is a cold man, and a wretched one;

all insult him, but he bears it;

all leap upon him, but he does not avenge himself.'

Would that they added, 'Not even if he wished could he do it,' that so my praise might be from God, and not from men.

Let him say that it is out of coldness that we do not avenge ourselves.

This harms us not at all, when God knows the truth, but rather sets our treasure under a greater guard.

If we are going to look to those men, we shall fall away from everything.

Let us look not at what they say, but at what befits us.

But others say, 'Let him not laugh at me'; and some even boast.

'No one who wronged me has laughed at me,' one says.

And yet, for this very thing you ought to be laughed at, that you took revenge.

Whence have these words crept in, being shame and ruin, and the overthrow of our life and of our conduct? Is it not from speaking contrary to God? For that which makes a man equal to God—the not avenging oneself—this you count as a laughing-stock.

Are we not for these things worthy to be laughed at, both by ourselves and by the Greeks, thus speaking against God? I wish to relate something that happened in ancient times, not about anger, but about money.

A certain man had a field with a treasure hidden in it, the owner not knowing of it;

this field that man sold.

The buyer, digging it up in order to plant and tend it, found the treasure lying within.

When the seller learned of this, he came and pressed the buyer to give back the treasure;

for he said that he had sold a field, not a treasure.

Again the other pushed him off, saying that he had bought the field together with the treasure, and that he made no separate account of it.

The two fell into a dispute, the one wishing to receive it, the other contending not to give it.

And having chanced upon a certain man, they laid the matter before him;

then they asked him to whom the treasure ought to belong.

But he gave no verdict, and said that he would settle their dispute;

and taking the treasure—those men willingly yielding it up—he afterwards endured countless evils, and learned by experience that with good reason they had renounced it.

This same thing ought to happen concerning anger too: that we should contend not to avenge ourselves, and that those who have grieved us should contend to pay the penalty.

But perhaps these things seem to be a kind of laughing-stock;

for when madness prevails to a greater degree, those who are sober-minded are laughed at, and among many madmen the one who is not mad seems to be mad.

Wherefore I exhort you to come to yourselves, and to become masters of your own selves, that being cleansed from this ruinous passion we may be able to be counted worthy of the kingdom of the heavens, by the grace and compassions of His Only-begotten;

the Son, with whom, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, honor, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.