Homilies on 1 Timothy 0.1–1.3

Timothy too was one of the apostle’s disciples. Luke testifies that he was admirable though young, “well spoken of by the brothers in Lystra and Iconium.” He became at once a disciple and a teacher, and he was so very discerning that, though he heard Paul preaching without circumcision and learned that Paul had even withstood Peter on this account, he chose not only not to preach the opposite but even to undergo it: for Paul circumcised him, it says, at such an age. So fully did Paul entrust him with the whole dispensation. Paul’s love for him is enough to show what kind of man he was. For elsewhere too he bears witness to him, writing: “You know his proven worth, how as a son with a father he served with me in the gospel.” And again he writes to the Corinthians: “I have sent you Timothy, who is my beloved and faithful child in the Lord”; and again: “See that no one despises him, for he is doing the work of the Lord, as I am.” And writing to the Hebrews he said: “You know that our brother Timothy has been set free.” One may find Paul’s love for him on every side. And the miracles that take place even now show Timothy’s boldness before God.

If anyone asks why Paul writes to Titus and Timothy only, although Silas too was among the men of good repute, and Luke likewise (for he himself writes, “Luke alone is with me”), and Clement was one of his companions (for he says of him too, “with Clement and the rest of my fellow workers”), why then does he write to Titus and Timothy only? Because he had already entrusted churches to them, whereas the others he still took about with him; these two he had assigned to definite places. For so great was the excellence of Timothy’s virtue that his youth was no hindrance. That is why he writes, “Let no one despise your youth,” and again, “the younger women as sisters.” For where there is virtue, everything else is superfluous, and nothing can stand in the way. Indeed, when he discourses about bishops and says much about them, he nowhere specifies their age. And if he writes “having children in subjection” and “the husband of one wife,” he does not say this as though one must have both children and a wife, but so that, if it should ever happen that men are taken from among those in the world, they should be such as know how to govern a household, children, and everything else. For if a man were of the world and had not proved useful even in these things, how could he be entrusted with the care of a church?

But why, someone asks, did he write to a disciple already appointed to teach? Should he not first have been fully equipped and then sent? He did need teaching, not the same teaching that disciples need, but the teaching that befits a teacher. See him, then, through the whole letter giving the teaching that suits a teacher. Right from the opening he did not say, “so that you may not give heed to those who teach otherwise,” but what? “So that you may charge them not to teach otherwise.”

“Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by command of God our Savior and of the Lord Jesus Christ, our hope, to Timothy, my true child in the faith: grace, mercy, peace from God our Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Great was the apostle’s dignity, great and wonderful; and everywhere we see Paul setting forth the grounds of that dignity, not as one who seized the honor, but as one to whom it was entrusted and who was under compulsion. For when he calls himself “called,” and when he says “through the will of God,” and again elsewhere, “For necessity is laid upon me,” and when he says that he was “set apart” for this, all these remove any ambition and boastfulness. For just as one who leaps upon an honor not given by God deserves the utmost blame, so one who shrinks back and leaps away from it is liable to other charges, disobedience and unbelief. This, then, is what Paul says now too at the beginning of the letter to Timothy, in these words: “Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by command of God.” He did not say here, “Paul, called,” but “by command.” He began in this way so that Timothy might not feel anything merely human, thinking that Paul spoke to him on an equal footing, as to the disciples. And where did God command him? We find the Spirit saying in the Acts of the Apostles, “Set apart for me Paul and Barnabas.” And everywhere in his writing he adds the name “apostle,” teaching the hearer not to think that what is said is human; for an apostle would say nothing of his own, and by saying “apostle” he at once sends the hearer’s mind on to the one who sent him. That is why he puts this at the head of all his letters, making his word trustworthy, and so he says: “Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by command of God our Savior.”

And yet nowhere does the Father appear giving the command; everywhere it is Christ who speaks with him. For what does he say? “Go, for I will send you far away to the Gentiles”; and again, “You must stand before Caesar.” But whatever the Son commands, Paul calls the Father’s commands, just as he calls the Spirit’s commands the Son’s. For see: he was sent out by the Spirit, set apart by the Spirit, and he says it is the command of God. What then? Does it lessen the Son’s authority that his apostle was sent by the Father’s command? By no means. See how he made the authority common: having said “by command of God our Savior,” he added, “and of the Lord Christ Jesus, our hope.” See how fittingly he has placed the titles. And yet the Psalmist says this of the Father: “the hope of all the ends of the earth.” And again blessed Paul, writing elsewhere, says: “For to this end we toil and suffer reproach, because we have hoped in the living and true God.”

The teacher must endure dangers, and many more than the disciples. “For I will strike the shepherd,” it says, “and the sheep will be scattered.” Since this happens, the devil breathes more fiercely against teachers, since in their destruction the flock too is scattered. By killing sheep he diminished the flock; but by removing the shepherd he has ruined the whole flock. Since, then, with less labor he achieves more, and in one soul ruins everything, he sets upon these the more. That is why from the very opening Paul raises Timothy’s spirit, saying: We have God as Savior and Christ as hope. We suffer much, but we have great hopes; we are in danger, we are plotted against, but we have one who saves, not a man but God. So neither is the one who saves weak, for he is God, and whatever the dangers may be, they will not overcome us; nor does the hope put us to shame, for it is Christ. For we bear dangers in these two ways: either we are quickly freed from them, or we are nourished by good hopes.

But how is it that he nowhere says he is the Father’s apostle, but Christ’s? He makes all things common, and he calls the gospel itself the gospel of God. Whatever we suffer, he says, the things here are nothing.

“To Timothy, my true child in the faith.” This too is encouraging. For if Timothy showed such faith as to become Paul’s child, not simply a child but a true one, he will be confident about the future too. For it belongs to faith not to fall down or be thrown into confusion. But see: “child,” and “true child,” and yet he is in no way of the same substance. What then? Was he something irrational? No; but he was not from Paul, someone says, so that this does not signify being from someone. What then? Was he of another substance? Not that either. Having said “child,” Paul added “in the faith” for this reason, to show that Timothy was a true child and was from him: nothing was altered; he bore the likeness according to faith. In human beings this holds with respect to substance: a son is like his father; but not as in the case of God, for there the nearness is greater. Here, even if they are the same in substance, they differ in many other things: color, shape, intelligence, age, choice, qualities of soul, qualities of body, outward circumstances; in more ways do they differ from one another than they are joined together. But there none of these partitions exists.

“By command” is stronger than “called,” as one can learn from elsewhere too. Like “to Timothy, my true child” is what he says to the Corinthians: “In Christ Jesus I begot you,” that is, in faith. And he adds “true,” wishing to show Timothy’s exact likeness to him, beyond the others; and not this only, but also his love for him and his great affection. See, “in” again refers to faith: “to my true child in the faith,” he says. And see how great the praise, since he calls him not only his son but his true child.

“Grace, mercy, peace from God our Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Why did he nowhere in his other letters put “mercy” first, but here? This too comes from his great love for Timothy and his fear for him. He was so afraid for him that, as he does nowhere else, he even wrote to him about bodily matters, as when he says, “Use a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent ailments.” For teachers especially need more mercy.

“From God our Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.” Here again is comfort. For if God is Father, he cares for him as for children. Hear Christ saying: “Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will not give it to him?”

“As I urged you to remain in Ephesus when I was going to Macedonia.” Hear the gentleness, how he uses not the voice of a teacher but almost that of a servant. For he did not say “I commanded,” or “I ordered,” or “I advised,” but what? “I urged you.” Yet we ought not to be so disposed toward all disciples, but toward the gentle and virtuous; toward the others, the corrupt and not genuine, otherwise, as he himself writes elsewhere: “Rebuke them with all authority.” And here too see what he says: “that you may charge certain persons,” not “that you may urge,” but “that you may charge them not to teach otherwise.” What does this mean? Was Paul’s letter, which he had sent them, not enough? It was enough; but with regard to letters … So either one must say this, or else that these things happened even before the letter. He himself had spent a long time in this city; here was the temple of Artemis, here he had suffered those terrible things. For after the theater was broken up, he called and exhorted the disciples and then sailed away, and later came back to them. It is worth asking whether he settled Timothy there at that time; for he says, “that you may charge certain persons not to teach otherwise.”

He does not name them, so as not to make them more shameless by the publicity of the rebuke. There were there certain false apostles from among the Jews, who wished to drag the faithful back to the law, a thing he blames everywhere in his letters. They did this not so much because conscience drew them as from vainglory and the wish to have disciples, being contentious toward blessed Paul and jealous of him. This is “to teach otherwise.”

“Nor to give heed,” he says, “to myths and endless genealogies.” By “myths” he does not mean the law, far from it, but the distortions, the counterfeits, the spurious doctrines. For it is likely that those from among the Jews spent their whole discourse on useless things, counting up grandfathers and great-grandfathers, so as to have a reputation for much learning and history. “That you may charge certain persons,” he says, “not to teach otherwise, nor to give heed to myths and endless genealogies.” What is “endless”? Either having no end, or having nothing useful, or hard for us to grasp. Do you see how he discredits inquiry? For where there is faith, there is no need of inquiry; where nothing needs to be curiously investigated, what need is there of inquiry? Inquiry destroys faith. For one who inquires has not yet found; one who inquires cannot believe. That is why he says, Let us not busy ourselves with inquiries; for if we inquire, this is not faith, since faith gives rest to reasoning.

How then does Christ say, “Seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you,” and “Search the Scriptures, because you think that in them you have eternal life”? There, “seek” refers to asking and intense longing; and “search the Scriptures” does not bring in the labors of inquiry but drives them out. For he said “search the Scriptures,” that is, so as to learn their exact meaning and know it, not so that we may always be inquiring, but so that we may stop inquiring. And well did Paul say, “Charge certain persons not to teach otherwise, nor to give heed to myths and endless genealogies, which promote inquiries rather than God’s stewardship, which is in faith.” Well did he say “God’s stewardship”: for God wished to give us great things, but reasoning cannot take in the greatness of his dispensations. This must therefore come about through faith, which is the greatest medicine of souls. Inquiry, then, is opposed to God’s stewardship. For what is administered by faith? To receive his benefits, to become better, to dispute and doubt about nothing, but to be at rest. What faith has accomplished and built up, inquiry overturns, raising questions and driving out faith.

“Nor to give heed,” he says, “to myths and endless genealogies.” And what harm, someone asks, did the genealogies do? Christ said that one must be saved by faith; they inquired and said that this was not possible. For since the declaration was made for the present, but the fulfilment of the declaration lay in the future, faith was needed. But they hindered faith. I think that here he is also hinting at the Greeks, when he says “myths and genealogies,” since they enumerate their gods.

Let us, then, not give heed to inquiries. For we have been called “the faithful” for this reason: that we may believe what is said without hesitation and doubt nothing. If what is said were human, it would need to be tested; but if it is God’s, it must only be revered and believed. If we do not believe, we will not even be persuaded that God exists. For how do you know that God exists, when you demand that he give account of himself? This is the first proof of knowing God: to believe what he says without proofs and demonstrations. Even the Greeks know this. For they believed their gods, someone says, although they speak without proofs. Why? Because they are offspring of gods. Do you see that even the Greeks know this? And why speak of gods? They did this even with a man, a sorcerer and magician, I mean Pythagoras: “He himself said it.” And over the temples silence was inscribed of old; and holding her finger to her mouth and pressing her lips together, she urged all who passed by to be silent. Are those things, then, so venerable, while ours are not, but laughable? What extreme of madness would this not be?

The Greeks’ teachings are rightly inquired into, for they are of that kind: battles of reasonings, disputes, and syllogisms. But ours are set apart from all these. Those human wisdom discovered; these spiritual grace taught. Those are doctrines of folly and senselessness; these of true wisdom. There, there is neither disciple nor teacher, but all inquire together; here, whether one is teacher or disciple, one must learn from the one from whom one ought to learn, obey, not dispute; believe, not reason it out. For by faith all the men of old won approval, and without it … And why speak of heavenly things? Even if we examine earthly things, you will find them dependent on faith: neither contracts, nor crafts, nor anything else of the kind will exist without it. And if faith is needed here, where false things are concerned, much more in those. Let us hold to it, then, and pursue it. So we cast out of our souls all the destructive doctrines, such as, I mean, the nativity and fate.

If you believe that there is a resurrection and a judgment, you will be able to cast all such things out of the soul. Believe that there is a just God, and you will not believe that there is an unjust nativity. Believe that there is a God who provides, and you will not believe that there is a nativity that controls all things. Believe that there will be punishment and a kingdom, and you will not believe that there is a nativity that abolishes what is in our power and subjects us to necessity and force. Do not sow, do not plant, do not go to war, do no work at all; for whether you are willing or unwilling, what the nativity decrees will come. What need have we of prayers any longer? And why do you wish to become a Christian, if there is a nativity? For you will be liable to no charge. Whence come the crafts? From the nativity? Yes, he says; it is fated for so-and-so to become wise with labor. Then show me someone who learned a craft without labor; but you cannot. So it belongs not to the nativity but to labor.

Whence then, he says, is so-and-so rich, though he is vile and wicked and did not receive an inheritance from his father, while another, toiling endlessly, is poor? For they constantly ply these questions, raising everything about wealth and poverty, nothing about vice and virtue. But in this matter do not say this; rather show whether anyone became wicked while striving, or anyone good while being careless. If fate has power, let it show its power in the greatest things, in virtue and vice, not in wealth and poverty. And whence, he says, is so-and-so sick and so-and-so healthy? Whence is so-and-so honored, while another is disgraced? Whence do things go as he wishes for one, while for another there are countless hindrances upon countless? Put away the nativity, and you will know these things. Believe firmly that it is God who provides, and you will know these things clearly. But I cannot, he says; the confusion of these affairs does not allow me even to suspect a providence. If these are God’s works, how can I believe that God, who is good, gives money to the fornicator, the vile man, the greedy man, and not to the good man? How shall I believe? For one must believe from facts.

Very well. Are these things, then, the work of a just nativity or an unjust one? Unjust, you say. Who then made it? God? No, he says; it is unbegotten. And how, being unbegotten, does it do such things? These are contradictory. So these things are not God’s at all. Then let us examine who made the heaven. The nativity, he says. Who the earth, who the sea, who the seasons? Then among lifeless things it produced such good order, such harmony, but among us, for whose sake all things exist, such disorder? It is as if someone took care that his house be admirable, but not his servants. Who guards the succession of the seasons? Who laid down the well-ordered laws of nature? Who ordered the courses of day and night? These things are beyond that nativity. No, he says, they came about of themselves. And how could such good order come about of itself?

Whence then, he says, are the rich, the healthy, the honored, some from greed, some from inheritance, some from violence? Why then did God allow the wicked to prosper? Because here is not the recompense according to desert, but in the age to come. Show me anything of the kind happening then. Meanwhile, he says, give to me here, and there I ask for nothing. But you do not receive for this very reason, because you seek it. For if, while you are without the pleasure, you seek these things so as to prefer them to those, how much more if you were enjoying pure pleasure! That is why he shows you that these things are nothing, that they are indifferent; for if they were not indifferent, he would not have given them to those men as well. Tell me, is not being dark, or tall, or short, a thing indifferent? So too is wealth. For tell me, in necessary things has not an equal share been given to all, such as aptitude for virtue and the distribution of spiritual gifts? If you knew God’s benefits, you would not, while enjoying those equally, be vexed over these, nor would you seek this advantage, knowing that equality of portion. It is as if a servant who receives food, clothing, and lodging from his master, and enjoys everything else equally with the others, were to think he had more than the others if he had extra hair on his head or longer nails; in the same way such a man is vainly proud of these things, of which he has only temporary enjoyment. That is why God draws us away from them: to quench this madness and to transfer our longing for them to heaven. But even so we are not brought to our senses. As with a child who has some toy and prefers it to necessary things, the father deprives him of the toy, to bring him even against his will to maturity; so God too does everything to bring us to heaven. How then, someone says, does he let the wicked grow rich? Because he takes little account of them. How then the righteous too? He does not do it himself; he simply permits it.

These things we have now said superficially, as to people ignorant of the Scriptures. If you were willing to believe and to attend to the divine words, we would have needed none of these words; from those we would know everything. For that you may learn that wealth is nothing, nor health, nor glory, I show you many who, though able to gain, do not gain; who, though able to be healthy, waste their bodies; who, though able to enjoy glory, do everything so as to be despised. Yet no one who is good strives to be wicked. Let us, then, stop seeking the good things here and seek those in heaven. For so we shall be able to obtain them and enjoy the eternal nourishment, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, honor, now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen.