NOTES for Act 16:22-34

How differently the Lord draws people to Himself… Some encounter God in the beauty of nature, in the gentle breath of the wind (see 1 Kings 19:11–12); others, like Saul, need to hear His voice exposing their sin and calling them to repentance (see Acts 9:4–5); still others meet people who know and glorify the Lord and come to Him. So it was with the keeper of the prison. At first he did to Paul and Silas what he did to any 'dangerous' prisoner: he threw them into prison and 'fastened their feet in the stocks.' Then 'there was an earthquake, and the bonds were loosened.' What could the jailer expect from people he had treated this way? Escape at the first favorable opportunity. Not because they would take revenge for such treatment, but simply because freedom is every person's natural longing; it could not occur to the jailer that there was anything exceptional about these men. In Paul and Silas' refusal to flee, we see further confirmation that a believer is not always governed by the desire natural to all people… How astonishing that such unnaturalness should lead to the saving of a human life, to the spirit's rebirth for eternity. The apostles' answer to the question about salvation is strikingly direct and concise: 'Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and you and your whole household will be saved.' That is all anyone needs for salvation. The rest will follow—the Lord Himself will take care of it.

We have read more than once about imprisonment ending in a miraculous deliverance, so we are no longer surprised that this time too the brothers did not remain in prison for long. But this time there are differences. They lie not only in the absence of an angel visibly coming into the prison and leading the captives out, but also in the captives themselves being in no hurry to go free. Paul and Silas are of course glad to proclaim the message of salvation to the jailer, but there is more to it: Paul and Silas are defending their rights as Roman citizens.

In recent years, one could repeatedly hear statements that Christianity is incompatible with defending civil rights, accompanied by arguments such as these: insisting on one’s rights is not humble; one should think not about rights but about duties. Yet Paul’s example shows that defending the rule of law—and therefore one’s lawful rights—is neither formalism nor legalistic quibbling, but a necessary defense of justice.

Paul’s example also shows us that even earthly laws of the state can serve the proclamation of what is above every law.

Today's reading helps us better understand the motives of those who, in our still untransfigured world, oppose the Kingdom and God's action. Luke's account concerns a “prophesying” servant girl (v. 16). Such diviners, prone to ecstatic fits, were not uncommon in antiquity—or, indeed, in any other age. These ecstatics were often genuinely possessed, as proved to be the case here (vv. 17–18). When the girl was healed, her masters were enraged at losing a source of income (v. 19). Apparently, they knew nothing of the Kingdom and gave it no thought at all, seeing the apostles merely as an obstacle to their business. To get rid of them, however, they needed to accuse them of something serious, such as undermining the foundations of Roman society, and that is what they did (vv. 19–20). Of course, the accusers had no intention of examining the substance of the apostles' preaching: apparently, all Jews looked alike to them. The authorities were not particularly interested in the details either: they found it easier to punish the accused than to conduct a proper, thorough investigation of the charges (vv. 22–24). Only God's direct intervention changed the situation: an earthquake struck at night, something all ancient peoples without exception regarded as a sign of the higher powers' anger (vv. 25–26). This was probably what made the authorities look more closely at the situation. The prisoners' own behavior also contributed greatly: they made no attempt to escape, which apparently impressed the jailer guarding them enormously (vv. 27–32). Yet even a sign from above seems to change nothing fundamental in the authorities' position: only one person converts, while the officials try to let the matter quietly subside (vv. 35–36). Those who were punished, however, do not allow this: the affair has already become public, and what happened can itself become a testimony. It is no surprise that the apostles do not want to miss this opportunity (vv. 37–40). Apparently, those who oppose the Kingdom do so not from any convictions of principle. Some do not wish to lose their profit; others do not want extra trouble; all hide behind the interests of the state. The result is that both stand in the way of the Kingdom's witnesses. Yet God can turn any situation into testimony, provided the witnesses themselves are ready for such a turn of events. Then every persecution ends in the triumph of the Kingdom entering the world.

One can imagine the history of the first centuries of our era as an "ideological confrontation" between Christians and the pagan world. However, from today's reading we can see that this confrontation is a special one. Indeed, Jews and Gentiles, Roman officials and craftsmen of Asia Minor, authorities and the plebs rose up against the apostles (a few decades later these persecutions would grow into bloody slaughters in Roman circuses and the fires of Nero).

But Christians never answer evil with evil. They bear the message of forgiveness, of reconciliation with God. They conquer not by force of arms, but by the power of Christ living in them. We all know how greatly the situation changed a thousand years later: fires, executions, and pogroms became the work of Christians. What will happen in our time depends on us.

The Macedonian who appeared to Paul in a dream was calling him not only to his own country. With the preaching in Philippi, the Gospel message reaches Europe, which from now on is to be a stronghold of Christianity for centuries. It is symbolic that at the founding of the first Christian community in Europe we see a woman, Lydia. From the very beginning, in her person, Europe's openness to the Good News reveals something qualitatively new. Of course, women's souls in the East also opened in love toward God; the Old Testament offers many examples, so Lydia continues a longstanding tradition. And yet, and yet...

Not all the women of Europe are like Lydia, however. Paul has to confront an unfortunate woman possessed by a spirit of divination. There are plenty of such women even now, except that the great income they bring is not for their masters, but for themselves. In casting out the spirit of divination, Paul acts, one might think, against his own advantage: the possessed woman is giving the apostle and his companions free publicity, drawing people to their preaching. Yet Paul has no need of demons' help, however tempting it might be to use it “for good” and “in the name of a higher purpose.” The services of the powers of darkness must be paid for, and the price of their “services” in preaching will inevitably be a distortion of the Gospel's essence. For the second time, after the encounter with Simon the Magician, the Church, in the person of Paul, rejects the temptations to make use of occult powers.