Homilies on Philippians 11

But what things were gain to me, those I have counted loss for Christ.

Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him, not having mine own righteousness which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Jesus Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith, that I may know him and the power of his resurrection.

It is with minds in their full vigour, and continually, that we must engage in the contests against the heretics.

For thus is it possible to throw their battle-array into confusion, and to prevail over them abundantly, giving them no leisure so much as to breathe.

For this reason, wishing you to be prepared from the Scriptures for such contests, so that from this passage also you may be able to stop the mouths of the gainsayers, I make the beginning of this present discourse from the end of the one that went before.

And what, one asks, was the end of that? Having enumerated all the Jewish grounds for boasting, both those from nature and those from choice, he added:

But what things were gain to me, those I have counted all to be loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ.

Here the heretics leap upon the passage.

For indeed this too is a mark of the wisdom of the Spirit, to hold out to them hopes of victory, that they may take up the battle.

For if it had been stated openly, they would have done to this passage what they did to the others;

they would have blotted out the words, they would have set aside the Scripture, being wholly unable to look it in the face.

But just as happens in the case of fishes, that which is able to catch them is hidden, so that they may rush upon it, and it does not lie plainly exposed;

this same thing happened here also, in that the law was called loss by Paul.

The law is called dung, he says, it is called loss;

it was not possible to gain Christ, unless I suffered the loss of this.

All these things drew the heretics on to accept the passage, supposing it to be on their side;

but when they had accepted it, then he enveloped them in the nets on every side.

For what do they say, those men who leap upon it? Behold, the law is loss; behold, it is called dung.

How then do you say that it is of God? Nay, these very things are on behalf of the law.

Let us attend accurately to the words that are spoken.

He did not say, The law is loss, but, I have counted it loss;

and when he was speaking of gain, he did not say, I have counted, but, It was gain;

but when speaking of loss, he said, I have counted, and with good reason;

for the former was by nature, whereas the latter has come to be henceforth from our own reckoning.

What then? Is the law not loss? he asks. It is;

It was not merely reckoned to be gain, he said, but it really was gain;

Consider how great a thing it was to bring men whose nature had grown savage into the fashion of men.

If the law had not been, neither would grace have been given.

Wherefore? Because it became, as it were, a kind of bridge.

For since it was not possible from so great a depth of abasement to ascend to the height, it became a ladder.

But even if he who has ascended no longer has need of the ladder, yet he does not on that account despise it, but rather is grateful to it.

For this very thing it was that brought him to the point of no longer needing it;

and yet for this very reason, that he no longer needs it, it is just, he says, to acknowledge gratitude to it;

but henceforth we reckon it loss.

How? Not because it is loss, but because grace is far greater.

For just as the poor man in a famine, so long as he has silver, escapes the famine;

but when he has found gold, and it is not permitted to hold both, he counts it loss to keep hold of the former, and, letting it go, takes the gold;

and he lets it go, not because the silver is loss (for it is not), but because it is not possible to take both at once, but he must needs leave the one;

The law, then, is not loss, but to cleave to the law and so to stand apart from Christ.

So that, when it leads us away from Christ, then it is loss;

For this reason he says, Loss, that is, for Christ's sake.

If it is for Christ's sake, it is not loss by nature.

But why does the law not suffer one to come to Christ? And yet, one says, it was given for this very end, and Christ is the fulfilment of the law

and Christ is the end of the law.

It does suffer us, if we are willing to be persuaded.

He, then, who obeys the law, does he leave the law itself? He does leave it, if we give heed;

but if we give no heed, it does not let us go.

Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss.

Why do I say this concerning the law? he says. Is not the world good? Is not the present life good? But if it should lead me away from Christ, I set these things down as loss.

Why? For the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord.

For when the sun has appeared, to sit still by the lamp is loss.

So that it is from the comparison that the loss arises, from that which excels.

Do you see that he is making a comparison? For the excellency, he says, not because it is something alien;

for that which excels, excels over what is of the same kind.

So that from the very things by which he makes the superiority in the way of comparison, from these he shows the kinship of the knowledge.

For whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but dung, that I may win Christ.

As for 'dung,' it is not yet clear whether he calls the law dung;

for it is likely that he says this concerning worldly things.

For having said, What things were gain to me, those I have counted loss for Christ, he adds, Yea doubtless, and I count all things loss.

He said All, both the things of old and the things present.

But even if you will have it to mean the law, not even so is it insulted.

For the chaff comes from the wheat, and the strength of the wheat is the chaff — I mean the husk.

So that before this the chaff was useful;

for together with the wheat we pick it out, and if there had been no chaff, the wheat would not have come to be.

Do you see how everywhere he does not call the thing itself loss, but loss for Christ's sake? Yea doubtless, and I count all things loss.

Why? Again, For the excellency of the knowledge, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things.

Then he adds, Wherefore also I count all things loss, that I may win Christ.

Do you see how on every side he lays hold of the support that is Christ, and nowhere lets the law be stripped bare, nor take a blow, but shelters it round about on all sides? And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness which is of the law.

If he who possessed a righteousness of his own, because that righteousness was as nothing, ran to this other righteousness, how much more ought those who possess none to hasten to Him? And he spoke well when he said, 'Not having a righteousness of my own' — not the one I acquired by toils and sweat, but the one I found from grace, he says.

If then he who had achieved much is saved by grace, how much more are you.

For since it was likely that they would say that this righteousness which comes through toils is greater, he shows that it is but refuse compared with that other.

For I would never, after having achieved it, have cast it away and run to this other, had it not been so.

And what sort of righteousness is this? The one that is from faith in God.

That is, this too has been given by God.

This righteousness is God's.

This is a gift, whole and entire.

And the gifts of God far surpass, by a great measure, the paltriness of the achievements that come about through our own diligence.

And what is faith? 'Upon the faith,' he says, 'of knowing Him.'

So then, knowledge comes through faith, and without faith it is impossible to know Him.

But how? Through it we must know the power of His resurrection.

For what reasoning could present the resurrection to us? Not a single one, but faith alone.

But if the resurrection of Christ according to the flesh is known by faith, how can the begetting of God the Word be grasped by reasonings? For the resurrection is a lesser thing than the begetting.

Why so? Because of the former there have been many examples, but of the latter not even one.

For many dead were raised before Christ, even though, having risen, they died again.

But no one was ever born of a virgin.

If then that which is even lower than birth according to the flesh must be received by faith, how can that which is far greater — immeasurably and incomparably greater — be grasped by reasoning? These things constitute righteousness.

But how it was possible can no longer be set forth.

For from faith comes the fellowship of the sufferings.

How? For if we did not believe, neither should we suffer.

If we did not believe that by enduring together we shall also reign together, neither should we endure these sufferings.

So then, both the begetting and the resurrection are grasped by faith.

Do you see that faith must not be a mere thing, but through works? For he above all believes that Christ has risen who hazards himself amid dangers, who shares fellowship with Him in the sufferings.

For he has fellowship with Him who is risen, with Him who lives.

'And be found in Him, not having my own righteousness which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith, that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if by any means I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.'

'Being conformed,' he says, 'to His death.'

For just as He suffered at the hands of men, so also do I.

For this reason he said, 'Being conformed.'

'I fill up what is lacking of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh.'

That is, these persecutions and sufferings fashion that image of His death.

For he sought not his own advantage, but that of the many.

So then, persecutions and afflictions and distresses ought not only not to trouble you, but even to gladden you, because through these we are conformed to His death.

As though he were saying, 'We are being fashioned into His likeness.'

Which he also says elsewhere in writing: 'Carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus.'

And this too comes about from great faith.

For we believe not only that He has risen, but also that after the resurrection He possesses great might.

For this reason we travel the same road that He travelled — that is, in this respect too we become His brethren.

In this respect we become 'christs' (anointed ones).

Marvellous! How great is the dignity of the sufferings!

We believe that we are conformed to His death through the sufferings.

For just as in baptism we were 'buried together in the likeness of His death,' so here too we are conformed to His death.

There he fittingly said, 'in the likeness of His death.'

For we did not die the whole death.

For we did not die in body, in the flesh, but to sin.

Since, then, both are called death — yet He died in body, while we died to sin, and there the man died whom He assumed, He who is in our body, while here it is the man of sin —

for this reason he there says, 'in the likeness of His death,' but here no longer 'the likeness of death,' but 'death itself.'

For Paul no longer died to sin in the persecutions, but in his very body.

So that he underwent the same death.

'If by any means,' he says, 'I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.'

What are you saying? Surely all attain to it.

'For we shall not all sleep,' he says, 'but we shall all be changed.'

And all attain not to resurrection only, but also to incorruption — some unto honour, others unto a provision for punishment.

If then all attain to the resurrection, and not to the resurrection only but also to incorruption, why did you say, as one about to attain some special thing, 'If by any means I may attain'? 'For this reason I suffer these things,' he says, 'if by any means I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.'

For if you did not die, you would not rise.

What then is it? He seems here to hint at something great.

For it was so great that he did not even dare to declare it plainly, but simply says, 'If by any means.'

I have believed in Him and in His resurrection, and I even suffer for His sake, yet I am not yet able to be confident concerning the resurrection.

What resurrection does he here speak of? The one that leads to Christ Himself.

I said that I believed in Him and in the power of His resurrection, and that I am a partaker of His sufferings, and that I am conformed to His death.

Which he says elsewhere: 'Let him that thinks he stands take heed lest he fall.'

And again: 'I fear lest, having preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.'

'Not that I have already obtained, or am already made perfect; but I press on, if I may also lay hold of that for which I was also laid hold of by Christ Jesus.'

What is, 'I have already obtained'? He means the prize.

But if he who suffered so much, if he who was persecuted, if he who bore the dying, was not yet confident concerning that resurrection, what could we say? What is, 'If I may lay hold of'? What I said before: 'If I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.'

'His resurrection,' he says, 'if I may lay hold of it.'

That is, if I am able to suffer so much, if I am able to imitate Him, if I am able to become conformed to Him.

For instance, Christ suffered many things: He was spat upon, He was struck, He was scourged, and at last He died.

Through all these one must arrive at His resurrection, having endured all the contests.

Either, then, he means this, or that: 'If I be counted worthy to attain the glorious resurrection, the one that possesses boldness, I arrive at His resurrection.'

For if I am able to endure all the contests, I shall also be able to share in His resurrection, and to rise again with glory.

For 'I am not yet worthy,' he says.

'But I press on, if so be that I may lay hold.'

'My life is still one of struggle; I am still far from the end; I still stand apart from the prizes; I am still running, I am still pressing on.'

And he did not say, 'I run,' but 'I press on.'

For the one who presses on—you know with what strain he presses on.

He looks at no one; with great impetus he thrusts aside all who would cut across his path; and he gathers together his mind and his eye and his strength and his soul and his body, looking toward nothing else, but toward the prize alone.

But if Paul, the one who presses on, who suffered so many things, still says, 'if so be that I may lay hold,' what should we say who have fallen back?

Then, showing that the matter is one of obligation, he says, 'for which also I was laid hold of by Jesus Christ.'

'I was among those who were perishing,' he says; 'I was being choked, I was about to perish.'

For indeed He Himself pursued us as we fled from Him, with much earnestness.

Through this he sets forth all these things.

For by saying, 'I was laid hold of,' he showed both the earnestness of the One willing to lay hold, and our great turning away and wandering, and that we were fleeing from Him.

Wherefore it is worthy of tears that, although all have again come into their former condition, and although we are answerable for a great debt, no one mourns, no one weeps, no one groans.

And do not condemn this word as irony.

For just as before the coming of Christ we fled from God, so we flee from Him even now.

For it is possible to flee from God—not in place (for He is everywhere), but by one's works.

And that it is not possible to flee, hear the prophet saying, 'Whither shall I go from Thy Spirit, and from Thy presence whither shall I flee?' How then is it possible to flee from God? As it is possible to become far from God, as it is possible to be removed to a distance.

For 'those who remove themselves far from Thee,' he says, 'shall perish.'

And again, 'Do not your sins make a separation between Me and you?' How then does the removal to a distance come about? How does the separation come about? By choice and by soul.

For how could anyone flee from Him who is present everywhere? It is therefore the sinner who flees.

This is what the Scripture says: 'The wicked flee when no one pursues.'

We flee vehemently from God, even though He ever pursues us.

The Apostle pressed on, that he might come near to Him.

We press on, that we may become far off.

Are these things then not worthy of lamentations? Are they not worthy of tears? Whither dost thou flee, wretched and miserable one? Whither dost thou flee from thy life and thy salvation? If thou fleest from God, unto whom wilt thou take refuge? If thou fleest from the light, where wilt thou see? If thou fleest from life, whence wilt thou live thereafter? Let us flee the enemy of our salvation.

Whenever we sin, we flee from God, we run away as fugitives,

we depart into a foreign land, like that man who devoured his father's substance and went off into a foreign land, who squandered all his father's estate, and lived in famine.

We too, then, have a paternal estate.

And of what kind is this? He delivered us from our sins, He bestowed on us power, strength for the working of virtue; He bestowed on us zeal, endurance; in baptism He bestowed on us the Holy Spirit.

If we squander these things, we shall thereafter be in famine.

For just as the sick, so long as they are troubled by fevers and by the corruption of the humours, are unable to rise up, or to work, or to do anything;

but if someone rids them of it and brings them to health, and then they do not work, this comes about through their own sloth.

A grievous disease and a violent fever lay upon us;

and we lay not upon a bed, but upon wickedness itself, as upon a dunghill, cast down in vice, ulcerated, full of foul stench, squalid, worn away, being idols rather than men.

Evil demons stood round about us; the prince of this world laughing, trampling upon us.

The Only-begotten of God came, He sent forth the rays of His presence, and straightway drove away the darkness.

There came to us the King who is upon the Father's throne, having left the Father's throne (but when I say 'having left,' do not again suppose a change of place;

for He Himself fills both heaven and earth;

but I say this on account of the economy of the incarnation).

He came to an enemy who hated Him, who turned away from Him, who could not even endure to look upon Him, who blasphemed Him every single day.

He saw him lying in a dunghill, ulcerated with worms, held fast by fevers and famine, having every kind of disease.

For indeed a fever troubled him—this was evil desire; and inflammations lay upon him—this was arrogance; and a certain so-called ravenous hunger held him fast—this was covetousness; and rottenness on every side—this was fornication; and blindness of the eyes—this was idolatry; and deafness and derangement—this was worshipping stones and pieces of wood and addressing them; and great deformity—this was vice:

something loathsome, and a most grievous disease.

He saw us uttering things worse than the mad, calling the wood 'god,' and the stone likewise.

He saw us in such great wickedness, and He did not abhor us, He was not disgusted, He did not turn away, He did not hate;

for He was Master, and He would not hate His own creation.

But what does He do? Like the best of physicians, He prepares remedies of great worth, and is Himself the first to taste of them;

for He Himself first passed through virtue, and thus gave it to us.

And first, as a kind of antidote, He gave the bath of baptism, and thus we vomited up all our wickedness, and everything was put to flight all at once, and the inflammation ceased, and the fever was quenched, and the putrefactions were burned away.

For all the things that come from covetousness, and those from wrath, and the other evils, were emptied out through the Spirit;

the eyes were opened, the ears were opened, the tongue spoke a word of good omen, the soul received strength, the body received such beauty and bloom as it is fitting for a son of God, when he has been born, to have—beauty from the grace of the Spirit, such glory as it is fitting for a son just born to a king, and nurtured in purple, to have.

Alas! What great nobility He bestowed upon us!

But we remain ungrateful toward Him who thus loved us.

We were born, we were nurtured, we were treated with benefits;

why do we again flee from our Benefactor? He then who did all these things also gives us strength;

for it was not possible for those held fast by the sickness to endure, unless He Himself had given us the strength.

He gave the remission of sins; we set at nought the gift.

He gave us wealth; we scattered it, we devoured everything.

He gave us strength; we used it up.

He gave us a gift of grace; we quenched it.

How? We spent it on nothing needful, we employed it in nothing useful.

And the most terrible thing of all is that, being in a foreign land and eating husks, we do not say:

'Let us return to the Father and say:

We have sinned against heaven and before Thee'—and this though we have a Father so tenderly affectionate, who greatly longs for our return;

so that, if only we withdraw from wickedness, if only we return to Him, He no longer even endures to make accusation concerning our former deeds;

for the return is a sufficient defence.

What am I saying—that He does not endure to accuse? Not only does He Himself not accuse, but even if another accuses, He silences him, even if the accuser be a man of good repute.

How long shall we stand apart? Let us gain a sense of our dishonour, let us gain a sense of our vileness;

wickedness makes men into swine, wickedness brings famine to the soul.

Let us recover ourselves and take ourselves in hand, and return to our former nobility, that we may attain the good things to come, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, dominion, and honor, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.