2. Like the first precept, the second is borrowed from the Old Testament and shaped to the uses of the New. “Be ye angry, and sin not”: so the words of Psalm iv. 4 stand in the Greek version and in the margin of our Revised Bible, where we commonly read, “Stand in awe, and sin not. Commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still.” The apostle’s further injunction, that anger should be stayed before nightfall, accords with the Psalmist’s words; the calming effect of the night’s quiet the apostle anticipates in the approach of evening. As the day’s heat cools and its strain is relaxed, the fires of anger should die down. With the Jews, it will be remembered, the new day began at evening. Plutarch, the excellent heathen moralist contemporary with St Paul, gives this as an ancient rule of the Pythagoreans: “If at any time they happened to be provoked by anger to abusive language, before the sun set they would take each other’s hands and embracing make up their quarrel.” If Paul had heard of this admirable prescription, he would be delighted to recognize and quote it as one of those many facts of Gentile life which “show the work of the law written in their hearts” (Rom. ii. 15). The passion which outlives the day, on which the angry man sleeps and that wakes with him in the morning, takes root in his breast; it becomes a settled rancour, prompting ill thoughts and deeds.
There is no surer way of tempting the devil to tempt us than to brood over our wrongs. Every cherished grudge is a “place given” to the tempter, a new entrenchment for the Evil One in his war against the soul, from which he may shoot his “fire-tipped darts” (vi. 16). Let us dismiss with each day the day’s vexations, commending as evening falls our cares and griefs to the Divine compassion and seeking, as for ourselves, so for those who may have done us wrong forgiveness and a better mind. We shall rise with the coming light armed with new patience and charity, to bring into the world’s turmoil a calm and generous wisdom that will earn for us the blessing of the peacemakers, who shall be called sons of God.
Still the apostle says: “Be angry, and sin not.” He does not condemn anger in itself, nor wholly forbid it a place within the breast of the saint. Wrath is a glorious attribute of God,—perilous, indeed, for the best of men; but he who cannot be angry has no strength for good. The apostle knew this holy passion, the flame of Jehovah that burns unceasingly against the false and foul and cruel. But he knew its dangers—how easily an ardent soul kindled to exasperation forgets the bounds of wisdom and love; how strong and jealous a curb the temper needs, lest just indignation turn to sin, and Satan gain over us a double advantage, first by the wicked provocation and then by the uncontrolled resentment it excites.
3. From anger we pass to theft.
The eighth commandment is put here in a form indicating that some of the apostle’s readers had been habitual sinners against it. Literally his words read: “Let him that steals play the thief no more.” The Greek present participle does not, however, necessarily imply a pursuit now going on, but an habitual or characteristic pursuit, that by which the agent was known and designated: “Let the thief no longer steal!” From the lowest dregs of the Greek cities—from its profligate and criminal classes—the gospel had drawn its converts (comp. 1 Cor. vi. 9–11). In the Ephesian Church there were converted thieves; and Christianity had to make of them honest workmen.
The words of verse 28, addressed to a company of thieves, vividly show the transforming effect of the gospel of Christ: “Let him toil, working with his hands what is good, that he may have wherewith to give to him that is in need.” The apostle brings the loftiest motives to bear instantly upon the basest natures, and is sure of a response. He makes no appeal to self-interest, he says nothing of the fear of punishment, nothing even of the pride of honest labour. Pity for their fellows, the spirit of self-sacrifice and generosity is to set those pilfering and violent hands to unaccustomed toil. The appeal was as wise as it was bold. Utilitarianism will never raise the morally degraded. Preach to them thrift and self-improvement, show them the pleasures of an ordered home and the advantages of respectability, they will still feel that their own way of life pleases and suits them best. But let the divine spark of charity be kindled in their breast—let the man have love and pity and not self to work for, and he is a new creature. His indolence is conquered; his meanness changed to the noble sense of a common manhood. Love never faileth.
4. We have passed from speech to temper, and from temper to act; in the warning of verses 29, 30 we come back to speech again.
We doubt whether corrupt talk is here intended. That comes in for condemnation in verses 2 and 3 of the next chapter. The Greek adjective is the same that is used of the “worthless fruit” of the “worthless [good-for-nothing] tree” in Matthew xii. 33; and again of the “bad fish” of Matthew xiii. 48, which the fisherman throws away not because they are corrupt or offensive, but because they are useless for food. So it is against inane, inept and useless talk that St Paul sets his face. Jesus said that “for every idle word men must give account to God” (Matt. xii. 36).
Jesus Christ laid great stress upon the exercise of the gift of speech. “By thy words,” He said to His disciples, “thou shalt be justified, and by thy words condemned.” The possession of a human tongue is an immense responsibility. Infinite good or mischief lies in its power. (With the tongue we should include the pen, as being the tongue’s deputy.) Who shall say how great is the sum of injury, the waste of time, the irritation, the enfeeblement of mind and dissipation of spirit, the destruction of Christian fellowship that is due to thoughtless speech and writing? The apostle does not simply forbid injurious words, he puts an embargo on all that is not positively useful. It is not enough to say: “My chatter does nobody harm; if there is no good in it, there is no evil.” He replies: “If you cannot speak to profit, be silent till you can.”
Not that St Paul requires all Christian speech to be grave and serious. Many a true word is spoken in jest; and “grace” may be “given to the hearers” by words clothed in the grace of a genial fancy and playful wit, as well as in the direct enforcement of solemn themes. It is the mere talk, whether frivolous or pompous—spoken from the pulpit or the easy chair—the incontinence of tongue, the flux of senseless, graceless, unprofitable utterance that St Paul desires to arrest: “let it not proceed out of your mouth.” Such speech must not “escape the fence of the teeth.” It is an oppression to every serious listener; it is an injury to the utterer himself. Above all, it “grieves the Holy Spirit.”