A Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles: Homily L on Acts xxiii. 31-33.
(Recapitulation.) “Then the soldiers,” etc. (v. 31–33.) This also made Paul famous in Cæsarea, his coming with so large a force.—“But,” says Tertullus, “that I be not further tedious,” showing that (Felix) does find him tedious (ἐγκόπτεται): “I beseech thee,” he does not say, Hear the matter, but, “hear us of thy clemency.” (ch. xxiv. 4.) Probably it is to pay court, that he thus lays out his speech. “For having found this man, a pestilent fellow, and a mover of sedition among all the Jews throughout the world” (v. 5): how then, it might be said, if he did this elsewhere (and not here)? No, says he; among us also he has profaned the Temple; “attempted,” says he, “to profane it:” but the how, he leaves untold. “Whom also we took.” etc. “But the tribune,” etc. And while he thus exaggerates what relates to the tribune, see how he extenuates the part of the accusers themselves. “We took him,” he says, “and would have judged him according to our Law.” (v. 6.) He shows that it is a hardship to them that they have to come to foreign tribunals, and that they would not have troubled him had not the tribune compelled them, and that he, having no concern in the matter, had seized the man by force: for in fact the wrongs done were against us, and with us the tribunal ought to have been. For that this is the meaning, see what follows: “with great violence” (v. 7), he says. For this conduct is violence. “From whom thou mayest know.” He neither dares to accuse him (the tribune)—for the man was indulgent (forsooth)—nor does he wholly pass it by. Then again, lest he should seem to be lying, he adduces Paul himself as his own accuser. “From whom, by examining him, thou mayest take knowledge of all these things.” (v. 8.) Next, as witnesses also of the things spoken, the accusers, the same persons themselves both witnesses and accusers: “And the Jews also assented,” etc. (v. 9.) But Paul, “Forasmuch as I know that thou hast been of many years a just judge.” (v. 10.) Why then, he is no stranger or alien or revolutionary person, seeing he had known the judge for many years. And he does well to add the epithet “just,” that he (Felix) might not look to the chief priest, nor to the people, nor the accuser. See, how he did not let himself be carried away into abuse, although there was strong provocation. “Believing,” he says, “that there will be a resurrection:” now a man who believed a resurrection, would never have done such things—“which” (resurrection) “they themselves also allow.” (v. 15.) He does not say it of them, that they believe “all things written in the Prophets:” it was he that believed them all, not they: but how “all,” it would require a long discourse to show. And he nowhere makes mention of Christ. Here by saying, “Believing,” he does (virtually) introduce what relates to Christ; for the present he dwells on the subject of the resurrection, which doctrine was common to them also, and removed the suspicion of any sedition. And for the cause of his going up, “I came,” he says, “to bring alms to my nation and offerings.” (v. 17.) How then should I have troubled those, for the bringing offerings to whom I had come so long a journey? “Neither with multitude, nor with tumult.” (v. 18.) Everywhere he does away the charge of sedition. And he also does well to challenge his accusers who were from Asia, “Who ought to accuse before thee,” etc., but he does well also not to reject this either; “or else,” says he, “let these same here say. Touching the resurrection of the dead,” etc. (v. 19, 20, 21): for in fact it was on this account they were sore troubled from the first, because he preached the Resurrection. This being proved, the things relating to Christ also were easily introduced, that He was risen. “What evil doing,” he says, “they found in me. In the council” (ch. iv. 2) he says: the examination not having taken place in private. That these things which I say are true, those witness who bring this charge against me. “Having,” he says, “a conscience void of offence both toward God, and toward men.” (v. 16.) This is the perfection of virtue, when even to men we give no handle against us, and are careful to be void of offence with God. “That I cried,” he says, “in the council.” He also shows their violence. They have it not to say, Thou didst these things under the pretext of alms: for (it was) “not with multitude, nor with tumult:” especially as upon enquiry made concerning this thing, nothing further was found. Do you observe his moderation, though there were dangers?
do you observe how he keeps his tongue from evil-speaking, how he seeks only one thing, to free himself from the charges against himself, not that he may criminate them, except so far as he might be obliged to do so while defending himself? Just as Christ also said: “I have not a devil, but I honor My Father: but ye do dishonor Me.” (John viii. 49.)
Let us imitate him, since he also was an imitator of Christ. If he, with enemies, who went even to the length of murder and slaughter, said nothing offensive to them, what pardon shall we deserve, who in reviling and abuse become infuriated, calling our enemies villains, detestable wretches? what pardon shall we deserve, for having enemies at all? Hear you not, that to honor (another) is to honor one’s self? So it is: but we disgrace ourselves. You accuse (some one) that he has abused you: then why do you bring yourself under the same accusation? Why inflict a blow on yourself? Keep free from passion, keep unwounded: do not, by wishing to smite another, bring the hurt upon yourself. What, is the other tumult of our soul not enough for us, the tumult that is stirred up, though there be none to stir it up—for example, its outrageous lusts, its griefs and sorrows, and such like—but we must needs heap up a pile of others also? And how, you will say, is it possible, when one is insulted and abused, to bear this? And how is it not possible, I ask? Is a wound got from words; or do words inflict bruises on our bodies? Then where is the hurt to us? So that, if we will, we can bear it. Let us lay down for ourselves a law not to grieve, and we shall bear it: let us say to ourselves, “It is not from enmity; it is from infirmity”—for it is indeed owing to an infirmity, since, for proof that it comes not from enmity nor from malignity of disposition, but from infirmity, the other also would fain have restrained (his anger), although he had suffered numberless wrongs. If we only have this thought in our minds, that it is from infirmity, we shall bear it, and while we forgive the offending person, we shall try not to fall into it ourselves. For I ask all you who are present: would ye have wished to be able to exercise such a philosophic temper, as to bear with those who insult you?
I think so. Well, then, he insulted unwillingly; he would rather not have done so, but he did it, forced by his passion: refrain thyself. Do you not see (how it is with) the demoniacs (in their fits)? Just then as it is with them, so with him: it is not so much from enmity, as from infirmity (that he behaves as he does): endure it. And as for us—it is not so much from the insults as they are in themselves that we are moved, as from our own selves: else how is it that when madmen offer us the same insults, we bear it? Again, if those who insult us be our friends, in that case too we bear it: or also our superiors, in that case also we bear it: how then is it not absurd, that in the case of these three, friends, madmen, and superiors, we bear it, but where they are of the same rank or our inferiors, we do not bear it? I have oftentimes said: It is but an impulse of the moment, something that hurries us away on the sudden: let us endure it for a little, and we shall bear the whole thing. The greater the insults, the more weak the offender. Do you know when it behooves us to grieve? When we have insulted another, and he keeps silence: for then he is strong, and we weak: but if the contrary be the case, you must even rejoice: you are crowned, you are proclaimed conqueror, without having even entered into the contest, without having borne the annoyance of sun, and heat, and dust, without having grappled with an antagonist and let him close with you; nothing but a mere wish on your part, sitting or standing, and you have got a mighty crown: a crown far greater than those (combatants earn): for to throw an enemy standing to the encounter, is nothing like so great as to overcome the darts of anger. You have conquered, without having even let him close with you, you have thrown down the passion that was in you, have slain the beast that was roused, have quelled the anger that was raging, like some excellent herdsman. The fight was like to have been an intestine one, the war a civil war. For, as those who sit down to besiege from without (endeavor to), embroil (the besieged) in civil discords, and then overcome them; so he that insults, unless he rouse the passion within us, will not be able to overcome us: unless we kindle the flame in ourselves, he has no power.