Acts 19:40Meaning & Commentary from the Church Fathers

Nothing so promotes love and communion as affliction. Nothing so unites and binds together the souls of believers. Nothing helps us teachers so much in having our words heard attentively.

A prosperous hearer is careless and negligent. He regards it as a disturbance to listen to one who instructs him. But one oppressed by grief and suffering gives himself to hearing with great zeal.

When a soul is weighed down by grief, it seeks everywhere for consolation from grief. The word supplies no small consolation.

But what, you will say, of the Jews? Why, when they endured calamities, did they become fainthearted and refuse to listen? Because they were Jews, always weak and wretched. Besides, their grief was very great, while we are speaking of moderate grief.

See, they hoped to be delivered from the calamities that oppressed them, and they fell into still heavier and countless calamities. This strikes the soul with no small blow.

Afflictions restrain us from attachment to the present world. We await death with good courage, and we are not bound to bodily goods. The greater part of philosophy consists in this, not being attached or enslaved to the present life.

A soul oppressed by grief is not concerned about many things. It desires only calm and quiet. It would like to be freed from present troubles, and nothing more.

As a body that is wearied and exhausted cannot give itself to pleasures or excess, but needs rest and quiet, so a soul oppressed by many calamities seeks rest and quiet.

A soul untouched by grief is tossed, disturbed, and puffed up. But a soul estranged from pleasures, and weakened by nothing, is wholly gathered into itself and is not puffed up.

This soul is courageous; that one is childishly weak. This soul is solid; that one is frivolous. As something light, when it falls into water, is shaken by the waves, so is a soul given over to great joy.

From many pleasures comes a multitude of sins, as anyone can see. Let us imagine, if you will, two houses. One is filled with those celebrating a wedding feast, and the other with those in mourning.

Let us enter both in thought and see which of them is better. The house of mourning will be found full of philosophy, and the wedding house full of disorder.

Look at what is actually there. There are immodest words, unruly laughter, still more unruly movements, clothing and gait filled with shamelessness, and actions marked by madness and indecency.

In general, nothing is there except what is laughable and worthy of mockery. I am not speaking against marriage. God forbid! I speak of what happens at a wedding.

There human nature is overturned. Those present are changed from men into irrational animals. Some neigh like horses, others kick like donkeys. All is disorder, all is confusion.

There is nothing seemly, nothing noble. There is a great festival for the devil: cymbals, flutes, and songs filled with adultery and corruption.

It is not so in the dwelling of mourning. Everything there is seemly. There is deep silence, complete quiet, and great compunction. There is nothing improper, nothing disorderly.

If anyone speaks, all his words sound as though filled with philosophy. And what is worthy of wonder is that, in such a case, not only men become philosophers, but servants and women also.

Such is the character of grief. People try to console the mourner and utter many thoughts filled with philosophy. Prayers begin at once, that grief may not exceed its bounds.

They readily comfort those who suffer. They recount many examples of others who have mourned in like manner. For what is man? I examine our nature. What is man?

At this point I unfold his life and nothingness. I recall the future and the judgment.

Each person goes home from a wedding sorrowful, because he himself is in a troubled state. But from mourning he goes home joyful, because he sees himself free from such a calamity.

He returns with a soul calmed from every immoderate desire.

But what then? Do you wish us to compare prisons and theaters, one place of mourning and the other of pleasure? Let us see what happens in each.

There, in prison, is great philosophy, because where there is grief, there is necessarily philosophy. There a man who was formerly rich and arrogant does not refuse to converse with anyone who approaches him.

Fear and grief, like a very strong fire, enter his soul and soften its roughness. There he becomes meek and humble. There he grasps the instability of life and bears everything patiently.

In the theater everything is the opposite. There are laughter, shamelessness, demonic mirth, disorder, loss of time, and the useless spending of whole days.

There is the stirring of impure desires, the training of corrupt passions, a school of adultery, a school of debauchery, encouragement of immorality, impulses toward buffoonery, and examples of indecency.

The prison is not like this. There are humility, admonition, training in philosophy, and contempt for the goods of life. All earthly things are trampled down and despised.

Fear watches over a man like a tutor over a child, directing him toward everything proper.

But if you wish, let us look at the same places from another side. I would like you to meet a man coming from the theater, and another coming out of prison.

You would see how the soul of the first is disturbed, restless, and truly bound, as it were. You would also see how the soul of the latter is calm, free, and exalted.

The one coming from the theater is blinded by the sight of the women there. He carries chains heavier than any iron, the chains of those places, words, and actions.

But the one coming from prison, being free from all this, feels nothing grievous when he compares his situation with that of others.

He will count it happiness that he is free from chains. He will despise human affairs, seeing how many rich men fall into misfortunes.

He sees that those once in great honor and power are held there in confinement. If he suffers any injustice, he will bear it patiently, because there are many examples of this there also.

He will remember the future judgment and tremble when he sees these present places of confinement.

As a man confined in this prison becomes meek toward all, so they, even before judgment and before the future day, will become meek toward wife, children, and servants.

But the man returning from the theater is not like this. He will look at his wife with displeasure, treat his servants harshly, be angry with his children, and be savage toward everyone.

Theaters cause much evil in cities, great evil, and we do not even know how great. If you are not weary, let us look also at places of laughter.

I mean banquets, where there are parasites, flatterers, and great intemperance, and at other places, where there are the lame and the blind. There are drunkenness, gluttony, and corruption. Here everything is the opposite.

Look also at our body. When it is fat and pampered, it quickly falls into illness. When it is lean, it does not become ill so quickly.

To make my words clearer for you, let us imagine a body full-blooded, fat, and overfilled. It can fall into fever even from light food, if it remains inactive.

Let us imagine another body, long subjected to hunger and weakness. Illness cannot quickly seize and overcome it.

In us even healthy blood often produces diseases if there is too much of it. But if there is not much, then, even if it is unhealthy, it can easily be healed.

So it is with the soul. If it is given over to luxury and pleasures, it easily inclines toward sin. It is close to pride, intemperance, vainglory, envy, deceit, and slander.

The soul that lives in grief and self-restraint is not like this. It is far from all these things.

Our own city is great. Whence, then, comes evil? Is it not from the rich? Is it not from those who rejoice? Who drags others into the courts? Who plunders property?

Is it those who live in poverty and oppression, or those who are puffed up and rejoice? From a soul oppressed by grief no evil can proceed.

Paul knows its benefit, and therefore says, "Affliction produces patience, patience experience, and experience hope; and hope does not put to shame" (Rom. 5:3-5).

Let us not lose heart in afflictions, but give thanks to God for everything. Then we shall receive great benefit and gain favor from God, Who permits afflictions.

Affliction is a great good. We can see this even in our children. They cannot learn anything useful without affliction. But we have even greater need of affliction than they do.

If they flourish when their passions are subdued, much more is this needed for us, who are subject to so many and such great passions.

We have greater need of tutors than they do, since the faults of children cannot be great, while ours are very great. Our tutor is affliction.

Therefore, without drawing it upon ourselves, when it overtakes us, let us bear it with good courage, as the cause of many blessings.

Then we may be counted worthy of the favor of God and of the good things prepared for those who love Him, in Christ Jesus our Lord.

With Him, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, dominion, and honor, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

Everyone hurried to the public square where they usually assembled. Many shouted without themselves knowing what the matter was. Two of Paul's companions were seized. The Greek people, who formed the chief population of the city, generally nourished hatred for the Jews living there as enemies of the gods. Popular hatred, at a slight offense, could easily flare into a revolt from which the Jews might suffer much. In the present case, many still did not know the actual cause of the people's indignation. The Jews heard only that the people were agitated because of an insult inflicted by enemies of the gods. They immediately took the cause of this indignation to be themselves. A certain man named Alexander appeared to give the people an explanation and, if necessary, to lay the blame on the Christians. But the appearance of such a man, himself belonging to the enemies of the popular religion, only produced stronger irritation. The shouting increased still more. It seems, however, that only the rabble nourished these hostile dispositions toward the Apostle. The city officials knew Paul's manner of life and work during almost three years in Ephesus. This could not fail to give them a favorable judgment of Paul. Some of the rulers of the city, who in that year administered religious affairs in Asia Minor, the Asiarchs, and had oversight of the public games, even showed concern for his fate. They begged him not to appear before the people during this disturbance. Finally, the city recorder succeeded in calming the riotous crowd. He explained that satisfaction must be sought according to lawful procedure. He said that no one could be rising against the great goddess of Ephesus, and that they might fear being held accountable for the disturbance.

If Demetrius and the craftsmen with him have a complaint against anyone, there are court days and there are proconsuls. Let them bring charges against one another. But if you seek anything further, it shall be settled in a lawful assembly. For we are in danger of being accused of riot concerning what has happened today, since there is no reason by which we could justify this gathering.' This speech at once produced a striking effect. The confusion ceased. The prudent speech of a man respected by all made the crowd repent of its senseless revolt and fear its possible consequences. The guardian of order had hinted at these consequences in his speech, acting by turns through flattery, intimidation, admonition, and reassurance. His speech vividly reminded them that Asia was a senatorial province, not an imperial one. Therefore it was governed by a proconsul with several officials, not by a propraetor with a legion of soldiers. For that reason they themselves were responsible for preserving good order. They would certainly be judged guilty of disturbing the peace. One day of disorder could harm their privileges for many years. In general, as the guardian of order showed, such confusion on the part of the Ephesians was unworthy, since the greatness of their temple had suffered no insult. It was unjustified, since nothing could be proved against these men. It was needless, since other and more lawful means of retribution were at hand. Finally, if neither pride nor justice could influence them, at least fear of the Romans might restrain them. The people were deeply ashamed of their conduct, and the guardian of order was able to dismiss them from the theater.