Homilies on the Acts of the Apostles 55

'And the barbarians showed us no ordinary kindness.'

'For they kindled a fire and received us all, because of the rain that was falling and because of the cold.'

'And when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks and laid them on the fire, a viper came out because of the heat and fastened on his hand.'

How the barbarians showed their kindness, he explains:

'For having kindled a fire,' he says, 'they received us all.'

Since there was no hope of safety from any other quarter, the storm being about to destroy them, they kindle the fire.

Then Paul, taking sticks, laid them upon the fire;

and making this clear, he adds, saying:

'And when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks.'

Observe him acting, yet nowhere working wonders merely for their own sake, but out of necessity;

for in the storm too he prophesied when there was cause, and not without reason, and here again he gathers sticks and lays them on the fire.

Observe him doing nothing puffed up or superfluous, but only so that they might be saved and enjoy some warmth.

Then a viper, coming out of the heat, fastens on his hand;

and that it fastened on him, he makes clear from what follows, saying:

'And when the barbarians saw the creature hanging from his hand, they said to one another:'

'Surely this man is a murderer, whom, though he has been saved from the sea, Justice has not permitted to live.'

Well was this too permitted, that they might both see and say these things, so that when it should come to pass, the miracle might not be disbelieved.

Observe their natural judgment well-articulated even among barbarians, and how reverently they spoke to one another, not even condemning him rashly.

Thus these also first see, that they might marvel the more.

'So he, having shaken off the creature into the fire, suffered no harm;'

'but they expected that he would swell up or suddenly fall down dead.'

'But when they had waited a long time and saw nothing untoward happen to him, they changed their minds and said that he was a god.'

Those who supposed that he would swell up—that is, burst asunder—these, seeing that he suffered no harm, say that he is a god.

Here again is another excess of honor on their part, just as with the crowds in Lycaonia.

'Now in the region about that place were lands belonging to the chief man of the island, named Publius,'

'who received us and for three days entertained us hospitably.'

Behold again another hospitable man, Publius, both rich and most well-provided.

This man, though he had seen nothing, but out of their misfortune alone taking pity on them, received them and cared for them.

'And it came to pass that the father of Publius lay sick, afflicted with fevers and dysentery;'

'to whom Paul went in, and having prayed and laid his hands on him, healed him.'

So he was worthy to be well treated;

wherefore, repaying him a recompense for his reception, Paul healed him.

'And when this had happened, the rest also who had diseases in the island came and were healed;'

'and they honored us with many honors, and when we set sail they laid on us the things we needed.'

They gave to those setting sail the things needed, and to the others as well.

Observe them not remaining neglectful even after being delivered from the storm, but making the reception generous on his account;

for three months they were all fed there.

And that they stayed so long a time, hear how, explaining this, he adds:

'And after three months we set sail in a ship of Alexandria that had wintered in the island, whose sign was the Twin Brothers (the Dioscuri).'

'And putting in at Syracuse, we stayed three days.'

'From there, going around, we arrived at Rhegium.'

And after one day, when a south wind sprang up, we came the second day to Puteoli;

where, having found brethren, we were entreated to remain with them seven days; and so we came toward Rome.

And so we came to Rome.

And from thence the brethren, when they heard the things concerning us, came out to meet us as far as Appii Forum and The Three Taverns.

Whom when Paul saw, he thanked God, and took courage.

Observe how all these things came to pass for Paul's sake, so that the prisoners, the soldiers, and the centurion believed.

For even if they had been of very stone, yet through him by whom they heard counsel given, and through him who foretold things, and through him who worked wonders, and through him by whose provision they were nourished, they would have conceived great things concerning him.

See how, whenever the judgment is upright and not forestalled by some passion, it straightway forms right judgments and verdicts well discerned.

Already had the preaching laid hold even of Sicily;

so also had it spread even in Puteoli, where too, having found certain brethren, they remain with them.

Then others also, by report, come to meet them;

so great was the eagerness of the brethren, that Paul's being in bonds did not dismay them, but they went out to meet him.

But observe him for me, that he too experienced something human.

For «he took courage,» it says, «when he saw the brethren.»

And yet, having wrought so many signs, nevertheless he received an addition of strength even from the sight of them.

From this we learn that he was both comforted after a human manner, and the contrary.

«And when we came to Rome, Paul was permitted to abide by himself with the soldier that kept him.»

Dost thou see? It was conceded to him to abide by himself.

This too is no small proof that he was greatly admired;

for indeed they did not number him with the rest.

«And it came to pass, that after three days he called together those who were the chief of the Jews.»

After three days he called the chief of the Jews, so that their hearing might not be forestalled.

And what had he in common with those men? For surely they were not about to accuse him.

Yet nevertheless he took no thought for this, but rather to teach this and that the things spoken might not get the start of them.

The Jews, then, though they beheld so many wonders, persecuted and drove them out;

but the barbarians, though they had beheld nothing, from the mere calamity alone were humane.

«Doubtless,» says the text, «this man is a murderer.»

They do not declare it simply, but «doubtless,» they say;

that is, «as far as one can see.»

«And Justice,» it says, «hath not suffered him to live.»

So then they held the doctrine of providence too, and these barbarians happened to be far more philosophical than the philosophers.

For those men allow not the things beneath the moon to enjoy providence;

but these deem that God is present everywhere, and that, even though one escape many things, he shall not escape unto the end.

And observe how they do not attack him outright, but for the present feel reverence because of the calamity;

nor do they make a public parade of it, but say one to another;

for the bonds taught them to suspect this;

Let them be ashamed who say, «Do not do good to those in the prisons»;

let us be ashamed before the barbarians;

for they knew not who those men were, but from the calamity for the present they learned only that they were men;

wherefore also they counted them worthy of kindness.

«But while they were long in expectation,» it says; that is, as they waited a long time for him to die.

But he shook off the beast into the fire, and showed his hand suffering nothing.

Seeing this, they were both amazed and marvelled.

But the sign did not happen immediately; rather the men tarried for a time, so that it might not seem to be an illusion;

thus there was no deceit, there was no sudden trick.

«Now in the parts about that place there were lands belonging to the

chief man of the island, named Publius;»

who received us, and lodged us courteously.

For it was a mark of great courtesy to entertain two hundred and seventy souls.

Consider how great is the gain of hospitality;

not as of necessity, nor as unwilling, but reckoning it as gain, he entertained them three days.

Wherefore he also fittingly receives a recompense for such hospitality, and one far greater than he gave;

for his father is healed, who was sorely afflicted with dysentery;

and not him only, but he counts many others who had infirmities worthy of the same;

whom also, in requital, they present with honours and provisions.

And making this plain, he subjoins:

«Who also honoured us with many honours, and when we departed, laded us with such things as were necessary.»

It was not that he received a wage—God forbid—

but that the thing written is fulfilled:

«The labourer is worthy of his food.»

And they who thus received them, it is plain that they also received the word of the preaching;

for he would not in three months have discoursed so much, had they not very greatly believed and shown forth fruits;

so that from this one may see a great proof of the multitude of those who believed.

«And we set sail,» it says, «in a ship of Alexandria which had wintered in the island, whose sign was Castor and Pollux.»

Perhaps this was inscribed upon it.

Observe them at one time tarrying, and again hastening.

«But to Paul it was permitted to abide by himself.»

Henceforth Paul was so venerable, that he was even allowed to be by himself.

for if even before this they treated him kindly, much more so now.

«And when a south wind sprang up,» it says, «we came the second day to Puteoli, where, having found brethren, we were entreated to remain with them seven days.»

And so we came to Rome.

And from there the brethren, when they heard the news concerning us, came out to meet us as far as the Forum of Appius and the Three Taverns.

For fearing the danger they came out, and this was enough to confirm the faith of those men.

Observe how nowhere in so long a voyage did they put in at a city, but at an island; and they passed the whole winter voyaging, while those who sailed with them—I mean the fellow-passengers—were being brought into order for the faith.

He was permitted, it says, to dwell by himself with the soldier who guarded him.

Very fittingly, so that not even there might it be possible for him to fall under any plot;

for it was no longer possible for any faction to rise up against him.

So that it was not that he was guarding him, but rather that nothing untoward should happen;

for it was no longer possible—with so great a city, and the emperor present, and an appeal pending—that anything should be done contrary to due course.

Thus always, through the very things that seem to be against us, all things come to pass on our behalf.

And having called together the chief men of the Jews, he discourses with them;

and these, contradicting him, withdraw, and are rebuked by him, yet dare to say nothing;

for the matters concerning him were no longer entrusted to their authority.

For this is the marvel: that not through the things which seem to make for safety, but even through their opposites, all things come to pass on our behalf.

And that you may learn this, consider from the following.

Pharaoh commanded that the male infants be cast into the river.

Had the infants not been cast forth, had the command of Pharaoh not been issued, Moses would not have been saved, nor would he have been reared in the royal palace.

When he was being saved, he was not in honor;

when he was cast out, then he came to be in honor.

This God did, displaying His resourcefulness and His ingenuity.

The Israelite threatened him, saying:

'Do you wish to kill me?' And this too worked to his profit.

So it happened by a divine dispensation, that he might behold that vision in the wilderness, that the fitting time might be fulfilled, that he might practice philosophy in the desert, and live in safety.

And in all the plots of the Jews against him the same thing occurs;

then he is rendered more illustrious—as also in the case of Aaron;

they rose up against him, and made him more illustrious;

for from this his priestly vesture is embroidered in varied colors, and the mitre is set upon him, and the rest of the adornment of his robe, so that the ordination might be beyond dispute, and that thereafter he might be held in wonder because of the plates of brass.

You surely know the history;

wherefore I also pass over the narrative.

If you please, let us go over the same things again from the beginning.

Cain slew his brother, but by this he rather benefited him;

'The voice of your brother's blood cries out to Me;'

and again elsewhere it says, 'To the blood that speaks better things than that of Abel.'

He delivered him from the uncertainty of the future, and increased his reward;

we have all learned the love which God had toward him.

For what wrong did he suffer, in receiving death the sooner? None;

for tell me, what do those who die later gain? Nothing;

for happiness lies not in living many years or few, but in using life for what is needful.

The three children were cast into the furnace, and by this were made more illustrious;

Daniel into the pit, and thereby he became more renowned.

You see everywhere that trials bring forth great goods even here, much more there;

but in the case of wickedness the same thing happens as if a man having a reed should set himself in array against fire;

for such a one seems indeed to strike the fire, but only makes it brighter, and consumes himself.

For wickedness becomes nourishment and an occasion of brightness for virtue;

for when God uses injustice for what is needful, our affairs shine forth the more.

Again, when the devil works any such thing, he makes those who endure more illustrious.

'What then,' one says, 'did this not happen in the case of Adam, but rather he became more dishonored?' Assuredly in his case too God used it for what was needful;

but if he suffered anything, he wronged himself;

for the things done to us by others become to us the causes of great goods, but the things done by ourselves no longer do so.

For since when we are wronged by others we grieve, but not when wronged by ourselves, God shows that he who suffers unjustly at another's hand is well approved, whereas he who wrongs himself is harmed;

and very fittingly, that the one we may bear nobly, but the other no longer;

besides, in that case the whole thing came about through Adam himself.

For why did you obey the woman? Why, when she counseled the contrary, did you not repulse her? You are altogether the cause; since, if it were the devil's doing, on this reckoning all who are tempted would have to perish;

but if they do not perish, the fault lies with us.

'But,' one says, 'all who are tempted ought to succeed; or, if the fault lies with us, ought men to perish even apart from the devil?' This indeed does happen;

for in fact many perish even apart from the devil;

for he does not contrive all things, but many things come about from our own sloth alone;

and if in some case he too is a cause, it is because we ourselves furnish the beginning.

For tell me, when did the devil have power over Judas? When Satan entered into him, it says.

Because he was a thief, and used to carry off what was put in.

He himself gave him ample room for entrance;

so that it is not the devil who implants the beginning, but we who receive him and invite him in.

'But if he did not exist,' one says, 'the terrible things would not have grown so great.'

But then our punishment would have been without excuse;

for now, beloved, the matters of our punishment are milder for us; but if we wrought the terrible deeds through ourselves, the retribution would be unbearable.

For tell me, if these sins which Adam committed he had committed without any counsel, who would have snatched him from the dangers?

Whence do you tell me this? For one so lax and slothful and ready for folly as to receive such counsel would much more have done this even without it.

What manner of devil cast Joseph's brothers into envy? If then we are watchful, beloved, the devil becomes to us even a cause of good repute.

For what harm did all that machination of his do to Job? 'Do not say this,' one objects, 'but it is the weak who is harmed.'

But the weak, even if there were no devil, is harmed.

'But he sins the more grievously,' one may say, 'when it is done with the devil's active help.'

On the contrary, less; for when a man sins with that one's active help, he is punished more lightly.

For not all sins incur the same penalties.

The devil is no cause of sin to us, if we are but watchful;

rather, he rouses us from sleep, he stirs us up all the more.

For tell me (let us for the present examine this): suppose there were no wild beasts, no inclemency of the seasons, no sickness, no griefs, no despondencies, nor any other such thing—

what would man not have become? A swine rather than a

a man, it seems to me, he would have become—stuffing his belly and getting drunk, and vexed by none of these things.

But as it is, cares and anxieties are a training-ground of wisdom and a school, and a discipline in the noblest instruction.

Let a man be reared in a palace, neither grieving, nor anxious, nor careworn, having no occasion for anger or for disappointment, but doing all that he desires, and succeeding in it, and having all men obedient to him—

will not such a one become more irrational than any wild beast? But as it is, the pressures of circumstance and of afflictions are like a whetstone that grinds and sharpens us.

For this reason the poor are for the most part more sensible than the rich, inasmuch as they are buffeted and drenched by many waves.

For a body too, when idle and unmoved, is sickly and unpleasant, but when it is exercised and labours and toils, it is comelier and healthier;

and this same thing one may find to hold true of the soul.

Iron too, when it lies idle, rusts and is destroyed, but when it is worked it shines;

and so likewise the soul when it is set in motion.

And these very pressures of circumstance are the motion of the soul.

The arts too perish when the soul is not exercised;

and it is set in motion when things do not all go straight for it;

for it is stirred by adversities.

If there were no adverse things, there would be nothing to set it in motion;

for instance, if all things were already wrought well, art would find no room to exert itself.

So too [if all things were according to our mind, the soul would find no room to bestir itself]; if it were carried along in comfort on every side, it would grow distasteful.

Do you not see that we charge nurses too not to be forever carrying the little ones, lest they accustom them to it and make them frail? For this reason children brought up before their parents' eyes become weaker, since untimely and immoderate coddling ruins their health.

Good is a measured grief, good too is care, good too is want;

for even things adverse make us strong when they are good;

for each of them, when it becomes excessive, destroys us: the one relaxes and slackens, the other rends asunder.

Do you not see that Christ leads even his own disciples in this same way? And if they had need of these things, much more do we.

And if we have need of them, let us not be vexed, but let us even rejoice in afflictions;

for these are remedies suited to our wounds, some bitter, some sweet;

but each of them, taken by itself alone, would be useless.

Let us therefore give thanks to God for all these things;

for he does not permit them to happen simply, but for the profit of our souls.

Therefore, showing our gratitude, let us give thanks, let us glorify him, let us hold out nobly, reckoning their transitoriness, and stretching our mind toward the things to come, that we may both bear the present things lightly and be counted worthy to attain the good things to come, by the grace and lovingkindness of his Only-begotten, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, and honour, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.