THEOSISJohn Chrysostom
“Pray also for us.” See what humility of mind there is. He places himself after them.
“That God may open to us a door for the word, to declare the mystery of Christ.” He calls prayer the entrance and foundation of boldness. O, such an athlete did not say, “that I may be freed from chains.” Rather, while in chains, he asked others to pray. And he asked for a great thing: that he might receive boldness.
Here there are two great things: the quality of the person and the quality of the work. O, what dignity! “The mystery,” he says, “of Christ,” showing that nothing was more desirable to him than preaching it.
“For which I am also in chains, that I may make it manifest, as I ought to speak.” With great boldness, he says, and concealing nothing. Do you see that the chains reveal him, and do not hide him? With great boldness, he says.
Tell me, you are bound, and you ask others? Yes, he says. But chains give me greater boldness, and I ask only God’s help. For I have heard the word of Christ: “When they deliver you up, do not be anxious how or what you should speak” (Mt 10:19).
And see how he speaks figuratively: “That God may open to us a door for the word.” See how far he is from arrogance. See how humbly he prophesies while in chains, so as to soften their hearts.
He did not say this for his own sake. He spoke so humbly in order to instill boldness in us. He asks for himself what he already possessed.
By calling the Old Testament a shadow in this epistle, he shows why Christ did not come then. “The body is in Christ” (Col 2:17), he says. Thus it was necessary first to become accustomed to the shadow.
At the same time, he also reveals the greatest proof of his love for them. He wants you, he says, to hear of my chains.
Again he brings forward the chains, which I dearly love. They stir my heart and always make me long to see Paul bound, writing in chains, preaching, baptizing, and catechizing.
Reports about all the Churches reached him while he was bound. And while bound, he edified thousands of Christians. Then he was all the more loosed from chains.
Hear what he says: “And most of the brethren in the Lord, having grown confident by my chains, are much more bold to speak the word of God without fear” (Phil 1:14).
He himself bears witness to this again, saying, “When I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor 12:10). Therefore he also said, “But the word of God is not bound” (2 Tim 2:9).
He was in chains with criminals, prisoners, and murderers. The teacher of the universe was bound, he who had ascended to the third heaven and heard ineffable words. Yet then his course was swifter.
The one who was bound was then loosed, while the one unbound was bound. The former did what he wished. The latter neither hindered him nor accomplished his own purpose.
What are you doing, madman? Is this a bodily runner? Does he contend on our racecourse? He dwells in heaven. Earthly things cannot bind and hold one who runs in heaven.
Do you not see the sun? Put chains on its rays and stop its course. But you cannot. So you cannot restrain Paul, and even less than the sun.
For he is guarded by a greater providence than the sun. And the light he brings us is not that material light, but the true light.
Where now are those who would suffer nothing for Christ? But why do I say “suffer”? They would not even give money.
Paul once bound others and cast them into prison. But as soon as he became the servant of Christ, he no longer gloried in acting, but in suffering.
Such is the wonder of the preaching. It was stirred up and increased, not by the activity of evildoers, but by the suffering of those who endured.
Where have such contests been seen? The one who suffers evil conquers, and the one who does evil is defeated. The first comes forth more glorious than the second and preaches through chains.
I am not ashamed, he says. On the contrary, I glory as I preach the Crucified.
Only consider this. The whole universe leaves the unbound and comes to prisoners. It turns away from those who bind and honors those held in fetters. It hates the crucifiers and worships the Crucified.
It is not only wonderful that the preachers were fishermen and simple men. It is also wonderful that other obstacles appeared, obstacles by nature, and yet the work prospered.
Simplicity not only did not hinder it. It especially made the preaching notable. Hear what Luke says: “When they perceived that they were unlettered and simple men” (Acts 4:13).
Chains likewise not only did not hinder the apostles, but made them still more bold. The disciples were not so bold when Paul was free as when he was in chains.
“And they spoke,” he says, “the word of God with boldness” (Acts 4:31). Where are the objectors who say that this preaching was not divine?
Was not their simplicity enough to refute them? Should they not have been afraid in such a condition? You know that simple people are guided by two feelings: vainglory and timidity.
Simplicity did not allow them to feel shame. Dangers, of course, should have inspired timidity in them. But they worked miracles, they say. Then you believe they worked miracles.
And if they did not? Here is a miracle greater than those they worked: that without miracles people were brought to Christ.
Socrates too was bound by the Greeks. What then? Did not his disciples immediately depart to Megara? Certainly, because they did not accept the teaching on immortality.
But see how it is here. Paul was bound, and his disciples became all the bolder. This was fitting, because they saw that this did not hinder the preaching.
The tongue cannot be bound, and the tongue especially speeds the preaching onward. You will not hinder a runner if you do not bind his feet.
So too you will not hinder the course of the evangelist if you do not bind his tongue. And as the runner runs and rushes faster when you gird his loins, so this man preaches more, and with greater boldness, when chains are upon him.
A prisoner is afraid if he looks only at the chains. But how can one who despises death be bound?
They acted as though they had bound Paul’s shadow and stopped its mouth. It was a struggle with a shadow.
Bearing chains as a reward for courage, Paul became more beloved to his own and more honorable to his enemies. A crown adorns the head and makes it more glorious. It does not shame it.
By their chains they unwillingly crowned him. Tell me, can iron terrify one who was not afraid of the adamantine gates of death?
Let us emulate these chains, beloved. All you women who adorn yourselves with golden necklaces, desire the chains of Paul.
Those ornaments do not shine so brightly on your necks as the beauty of iron chains shone on his soul.
Whoever desires the latter should hate the former. For what fellowship has faintheartedness with courage, or bodily adornment with philosophy?
Angels honor these chains, but they look upon those adornments as children’s toys. These chains usually draw one from earth to heaven, while those draw one down from heaven to earth.
Truly, these chains are not like those. These are adornment, while those are chains. Those crush the soul along with the body. These adorn the soul along with the body.
Do you wish to know that these are truly adornment? Tell me, who drew more spectators, you or Paul?
But why do I say “you”? The queen herself, covered all over with gold, could not draw more spectators to herself.
If Paul in chains and a queen were to enter the church at the same time, everyone would turn their eyes from her to him.
And this would be fitting. For it is more wondrous to see a man standing above human nature, having nothing merely human, and appearing as an angel on earth, than to see a woman dressed in splendor.
One may see such a woman in theaters, solemn gatherings, baths, and other places. But to see a man held in chains, who regards them as his greatest adornment and does not fear them, is to see a spectacle not earthly, but worthy of heaven.
The soul whose body is hung with precious things watches who looks at them and who does not. It is filled with arrogance, shows anxiety, and is agitated by many other feelings.
By contrast, the man weighed down with chains is not puffed up. His soul is calm, free from every care, joyful, and looks toward heaven as if winged.
If someone gave me the choice of seeing Paul descending from heaven and speaking a word, or coming forth from prison, I would choose his coming forth from prison. For when he was in prison, heaven came down to him.
The chains of Paul are the bond of preaching. His fetters are its foundation. Let us also desire these chains.
But how is this possible, you ask? If we crush and break those ornaments.
There is no benefit from these chains of gold, but rather harm. They will make us prisoners there. But Paul’s chains will free us there from chains.
The soul bound by these chains here will be bound hand and foot by incorruptible chains there. But the soul bound by Paul’s chains will wear them then as an adornment.
Release yourself from chains, and release the poor man from hunger. Why do you forge chains of sins?
How, you ask? You heap up gold while another perishes. To acquire empty glory, you preserve a mass of gold, while another has nothing to eat.
By this, are you not forging sins? Put on Christ, not gold. Where mammon is, Christ is not. Where Christ is, mammon is not.
Do you not wish to put on the King of all? If someone gave you purple and a diadem, would you not accept them instead of all gold?
I do not give you royal adornment. I propose that you put on the King Himself.
But how does one put on Christ, you ask? Hear what Paul says: “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ” (Gal 3:27).
Hear also the apostolic exhortation: “Make no provision for the flesh,” he says, “to fulfill its lusts” (Rom 13:14). Therefore, the one who puts on Christ is the one who does not please the flesh unto lust.
If you put on Christ, even demons will fear you. But if you put on gold, even men will laugh at you. If you put on Christ, men too will honor you.
Do you wish to appear beautiful and seemly? Be content with the form that the Creator gave you. Why do you hang gold upon yourself, as though correcting the image of God?
Do you wish to appear seemly? Put on mercy. Put on love for mankind. Put on chastity and humility.
All these are more precious than gold. All these make the beautiful still more seemly, and make the unattractive graceful.
Whoever looks upon a face that expresses kindness will speak his judgment from love. But no one can call an evil face beautiful, even if it is outwardly fair. A troubled heart does not pronounce a right judgment.
That Egyptian woman was adorned, and Joseph was adorned. But who was more beautiful?
I am speaking of the time when she was in the royal palace and he was in prison.
He was naked, but clothed with the garment of chastity. She was clothed, but proved more shameful than the naked, because she did not have chastity.
When you, woman, adorn yourself excessively, then you are more shameful than the naked, because you strip yourself of modesty.
Eve was naked. But she became more shameful when she was clothed. For when she was naked, she was adorned with the glory of God. But when she put on the garment of sin, she became shameful.
So too you, when you put on the accessories of finery, appear more shameful. Luxurious clothing cannot reveal gracefulness. On the contrary, the one clothed in it may be more disgraceful than the naked.
I ask you: if you ever put on the accessories of a flute-girl or a dancer, would you not be ashamed? Though those garments may be golden, you are ashamed precisely because they are golden.
For theatrical luxury belongs to tragedians, comedians, mimes, dancers, and gladiators. But to the faithful woman God has given another garment: the Only-begotten Son of God Himself.
“As many of you,” he says, “as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.” Tell me, if someone gave you royal clothing, and you put a helot’s rag over it, would you not receive punishment as well as shame?