A Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles: Homily XLIV on Acts xx. 17-21.
Then we have the cause, “to draw away disciples after them.” (v. 30). That there are heresies, this is the cause, and no other than this. Then comes also consolation. But if He “purchased” it “with His own blood,” He will assuredly stand forward in its defence. “Night and day,” he says, “I cease not to warn with tears.” (v. 31.) This might well be said in our case also: and though the speech seems to refer peculiarly to the teachers, it is common also to the disciples. For what, though I speak and exhort and weep night and day, while the disciple obeys not? Therefore it is that he says, “I take you to record:” since also himself says, “I am pure from the blood of all men: for I have not shunned to declare unto you.” (v. 26, 27.) Why then, this only is to be a teacher, to declare, to preach, to instruct, shrink from nothing, to exhort night and day: but if, while one is doing all this, nothing comes of it, ye know what remains. Then ye have another justification: “I am pure from the blood of all men.” Think not that these words are spoken to us only: for indeed this speech is addressed to you also, that ye should attend to the things spoken, that ye should not start away from the hearing.
What can I do? Lo! each day I rend myself with crying out, “Depart from the theatres:” and many laugh at us: “Desist from swearing, from covetousness:” numberless are our exhortations, and there is none to hear us. But I do not discourse during night? Fain would I do this also in the night time, and at your tables, if it were possible that one could be divided into ten thousand pieces, so as to be present with you and discourse.
But if once in the week we call to you, and ye shrink back, and some of you do not even come here, and you that do come, depart having received no profit,—what shall we do? Many I know even sneer at us, that we are forever discoursing about the same things: so wearisome are we become to you by very satiety. But for this not we are to blame, but the hearers may thank themselves. For he indeed who is making good progress, rejoices to hear the same things always; it seems to be his praises that he hears spoken: but he who does not wish to get on, seems even to be annoyed, and though he hear the same thing but twice, it seems to him that he is hearing it often.
“I am pure,” he says, “from the blood of all men.” (v. 26.) This was fit and proper for Paul to say, but we dare not say it, conscious as we are of numberless faults. Wherefore for him the ever vigilant, ever at hand, the man enduring all things for the sake of the salvation of his disciples, it was fit and proper to say this: but we must say that of Moses, “The Lord was wroth with me for your sakes” (Deut. iii. 26), because ye lead us also into many sins. For when we are dispirited at seeing you make no progress, is not the greater part of our strength struck down? For what, I ask you has been done? Lo! by the grace of God we also have now passed the space of three years, not indeed night and day exhorting you, but doing this, often every third day, or every seventh. What more has come of it? We accuse, we rebuke, we weep, we are in anguish, although not openly, yet in heart.
But those (inward) tears are far more bitter than these (outward ones): for these indeed bring a kind of relief to the feelings of the sorrowful, whereas those aggravate it, and bind it fast. Since when there is any cause of grief, and one cannot give vent to the sorrow, lest he should seem to be vainglorious, think what he suffers! Were it not that people would tax me with excessive love of display, you would see me each day shedding fountains of tears: but to those my chamber is witness, and my hours of solitude. For believe me I have (at times) despaired of my own salvation, but from my mourning on your account, I have not even leisure to bemoan my own evils: so entirely are ye all in all to me. And whether I perceive you to be advancing, then, for very delight, I am not sensible of my own evils: or whether I see you not advancing, such is my grief, I again dismiss my own cares from my thoughts: brightening up on account of your good things, though I myself have evils without number, and saddened on account of your painful things, though my own successes are without number.
For what hope is there for the teacher, when his flock is destroyed? What kind of life, what kind of expectation is there for him? With what sort of confidence will he stand up before God? what will he say? For grant that he has nothing laid to his charge, has no punishment to suffer, but is “pure from the blood of all men:”
yet even so will he suffer a grief incurable: since fathers also though they be not liable to be called to account for their children’s sins, nevertheless have grief and vexation. And this profits them nothing, nor shields them. “For it is they that watch for our souls, as those that must give account.” (Heb. xiii. 17.) This seems to be a fearful thing: to me this gives no concern after your destruction. For whether I give account, or not, it is no profit to me. Might it be, that ye were saved, and I to give account because of you: ye saved, and I charged with not having fulfilled my part! For my anxiety is not that you should be saved through me as the means, but only that you should be saved, no matter by what person as the instrument.
Ye know not the pangs of spiritual childbirth, how overpowering they are; how he who is in travail with this birth, would rather be cut into ten thousand pieces, than see one of those to whom he has given birth perishing and undone. Whence shall we persuade you? By no other argument indeed, but by what has been done, in all that regards you we shall clear ourselves. We too shall be able to say, that in nothing have we “shrunk from declaring” to you the whole truth: nevertheless we grieve: and that we do grieve, is manifest from the numberless plans we lay and contrivances we devise. And yet we might say to ourselves, What matters it to me? I have done my part, “I am pure from” (their) “blood:” but this is not enough for comfort. If we could tear open our heart, and show it to you, ye would see with what largeness it holds (you) within it, both women and children and men; for such is the power of love, that it makes the soul more spacious than the heaven. “Receive us,” says (Paul): “we have wronged no man, ye are not straitened in us.”
(2 Cor. vii. 2; vi. 12.) He had all Corinth in his heart, and says, “Ye are not straitened: be ye also enlarged” (2 Cor. vi. 13); but I myself could not say this, for I well know, that ye both love me and receive me. But what is the profit either from my love or from yours, when the things pertaining to God thrive not in us? It is a ground for greater sorrow, an occasion of worse mischief. I have nothing to lay to your charge: “for I bear you record, that, if it had been possible, ye would have plucked out your own eyes, and have given them to me.” (Gal. iv. 15.)
“We yearn not only to give you the Gospel, but also our own souls.” (1 Thess. ii. 8.) We are loved and we love (you): but this is not the question. But let us love Christ, “for the first commandment is, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God: and the second is like unto it, And thy neighbor as thyself.” (Matt. xxii. 37–39.)
We have the second, we need the first: need the first, exceedingly, both I and you. We have it, but not as we ought. Let us love Him: ye know how great a reward is laid up for them that love Christ: let us love Him with fervor of soul, that, enjoying his goodwill, we may escape the stormy waves of this present life, and be found worthy to obtain the good things promised to them that love Him, through the grace and mercy of His only-begotten Son, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Ghost, be glory, might, honor, now and ever, world without end. Amen.