Homilies on 1 Timothy 14.1–14.5

“But if anyone does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.” 1. Many think that their own virtue suffices them for salvation, and if they order their own life well, they think that nothing more is lacking to them for salvation. But they do not think rightly. This is shown by the man who buried the one talent; for he did not bring it back diminished, but whole, just as the one who entrusted it had given it. And blessed Paul shows it here too, saying: “But if anyone does not provide for his own.” He means every kind of provision, for the soul and for the body, since this too is provision. He who does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his household, that is, those related by kinship, is, he says, worse than an unbeliever. Isaiah too, the chief of the prophets, says this: “You shall not overlook those of your own seed.” For if someone neglects those who are his by birth and united to him by close kinship, how will he be affectionate toward others? Will not everyone call it vainglory, when he does good to strangers but despises and does not spare his own? And what when he instructs others but overlooks these in error, although he has greater ease and a greater right in doing them good? Assuredly; for will they not say, “Affectionate indeed are the Christians who overlook their own!” “And he is worse,” he says, “than an unbeliever.” Why? Because that man, even if he overlooks strangers, does not overlook those near him. What he means is this: one who neglects his own wrongs both the law of God and the law of nature. And if one who does not provide for his own has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever, where will one be ranked who even wrongs his own, with whom will he stand? And how has he denied the faith? “They profess,” he says, “to know God, but deny him by their works.” And what did the God in whom they believed command? Not to overlook those of one's own seed. How does such a man believe, who has become a denier of God? Let us consider how many of us, sparing our money, despise our own. God devised the union of kinship for this reason, that we might have many occasions of doing one another good. When, then, you do not do what even the unbeliever does, have you not denied the faith? So faith is not only believing by confession, but also displaying works worthy of it; and in each matter it is possible to believe and not to believe. For since he had spoken of luxury and self-indulgence, he says: she has perished not only in this, that she lives in luxury, but because she is also compelled to overlook her own. He rightly says this; for she who lives for her belly has perished in this too, by denying the faith. And how is she worse than an unbeliever? Because it is not the same to overlook one's own and one who is far off; how could it be? The charge is greater here, to overlook an acquaintance rather than a stranger, a friend rather than one who is not a friend. “Let a widow be enrolled not less than sixty years old, having been the wife of one husband, well attested for good works.” He said, “Let them learn first to repay their parents”; he said, “She who lives in self-indulgence is dead while she lives”; he said, “If anyone does not provide for his own, he is worse than an unbeliever”; he said the things without which she is unworthy of the roll of widows; here he says what she must have besides. What then? Shall we admit her on account of her years? And what achievement is that? For it is not her doing that she has reached sixty years. Not from age alone, he says; for even if she passes that age but does not have the works, not even then let her be enrolled. Why he is so exact about the age he gives the reason later, brought forward not from himself but from the widows themselves. Meanwhile let us hear what follows: “Well attested,” he says, “for good works.” What works? “If she has brought up children.” Truly this is no small work, bringing up children. And bringing up children is not simply feeding the children but bringing them up as one ought, as he said above: “If they continue in faith and love and holiness.” Do you see how everywhere he puts kindness to one's own before kindness to strangers? For first he says, “If she has brought up children,” and then, “If she has shown hospitality, if she has washed the feet of the saints, if she has relieved the afflicted, if she has devoted herself to every good work.” What then, if she is poor? Not even so is she deprived of bringing up children, or of showing hospitality, or of relieving the afflicted. Even if she is poor, she has a house; she does not live in the open air. “If she has washed the feet of the saints,” he says. This is no expense. “If she has devoted herself to every good work.” What kind of command does he give here? He urges her to contribute bodily service; for women are especially suited to tending the sick, the bed …

Wonderful! How much exactness he demands of the widow, almost as much as of the one who holds the office of bishop himself! For “if she has devoted herself to every good work” shows that, even if she could not do it herself, she nevertheless took part in it. Cutting away self-indulgence, he wishes her to be provident … Such was Anna. See how much exactness he demands of the widow, more than even of virgins; and yet of them too he demanded great exactness and the height of virtue. For in saying “… without distraction” he comprehends, as it were in summary, all virtue. Do you see that not having engaged in a second marriage does not suffice to show her a widow, but many other things are needed? For why, tell me, does he urge her not to engage in a second marriage? Did he condemn the thing? By no means; that belongs to heretics. But he wishes her thereafter to be occupied with spiritual things and to transfer herself to virtue. For marriage is a matter not of uncleanness but of occupation; since when he says, “that they may have leisure,” he does not say, “that they may be cleansed.” For marriage is truly the cause of much occupation. If, then, you do not marry for this reason, that you may have leisure for the fear of God, but you do not use the leisure, the thing is of no profit to you; namely, that you may show all your service toward strangers, toward the saints. When, then, you do not do these things, you have kept from marriage rather as one who condemns the thing. So too the virgin who is not crucified with exactness has declined marriage by condemning it as defiled and unclean. Do you see that he speaks of hospitality, not mere friendliness, but that done with zeal, with a cheerful will, with eagerness, that goes about the thing as receiving Christ himself? For he does not wish the service of these to be enjoined on maidservants, but that women do these things themselves; for “if I, the teacher,” he says, “have washed your feet, much more ought you to do this for one another.” For even if a woman is ten thousand times rich, even if she happens to be in some very great eminence and prides herself on the nobility of her ancestors, the distance is not so great as between God and the disciples. If you receive as receiving Christ, be in no way ashamed; rather be proud of the thing. But if you do not receive as receiving Christ, do not receive at all. “He who receives you,” he says, “receives me.” If you do not receive so, you have no reward either. Abraham received men passing by as wayfarers, as he thought, and did not leave everything to the servants to prepare for the reception; but he did the greater part of the service himself, and his wife too, though he had three hundred and eighteen born in his house, among whom it is likely there were also maidservants. But he wished to have the reward with his wife, not only for the expense but also for the service. So we must show hospitality, doing everything ourselves, that we may be sanctified, that our hands may be blessed. And if you give to the poor, do not disdain to give with your own hand; for you do not give to the poor man but to Christ. And who is so wretched as to disdain to stretch out his hand to Christ? This is hospitality; this is truly to do it for God's sake. But if you give orders with pride, even if you bid the guest enjoy the first places, such a thing is not hospitality, nor is it for God's sake. The stranger needs much attention, much encouragement; for it is something to be content with if even after so much he does not blush. Since the thing is of such a nature that the one who receives a kindness is ashamed, one must remove the shame by an excess of attention, and show by words and deeds that the one who does good does not do good but receives good himself, and is benefited rather than benefits. So what is done is multiplied by the will. For just as one who thinks he is suffering loss has lost everything, and one who thinks he is doing a kindness has lost everything, so one who thinks he is receiving a kindness has received more; “for God loves a cheerful giver.” So you owe thanks to the poor man rather than he to you for receiving. For if there were no poor, you would not cut away the greater part of your sins. They are physicians of your wounds; they offer you their own hands as medicines. A physician stretching out his hands and applying a remedy does not give healing as a poor man does, stretching out his hand and receiving what you give; he is a sponge that wipes away your evils. You gave the silver, and your sins went out with it. Such too are the priests: “They will eat the sins of my people,” he says. So you receive more than you give; you are benefited rather than benefiting; you lend to God, not to men; you increase your wealth, you do not diminish it; you diminish it if you do not lessen it, if you do not give. “If she has shown hospitality,” he says, “if she has washed the feet of the saints.” Of which saints? Of the afflicted, not simply of saints; for it is possible to be saints and enjoy much attention from all. Do not pursue those who are in abundance, but those in affliction, the unknown, those not known by many. “Whoever did it to one of the least of these,” he says, “did it to me.”

Do not give it to those who preside over the church to distribute; serve yourself, so that you may have the reward not only for spending but also for ministering. Give with your own hands; sow the furrow yourself. Here there is no need to fix a plough, nor to yoke an ox, nor to wait for a season; this seed is freed from such toil. For you sow into heaven, where there is no frost, no winter, nothing else; you sow into souls, where no one carries off what is cast, but it is held fast, with great care and great zeal. Sow yourself. Why do you deprive yourself of the reward? It is a great reward to be able to manage even what belongs to others. There is a reward not only for giving but also for managing well what is given. Why do you not take the reward? For that there is a reward for this too, hear: “The apostles,” he says, “appointed Stephen and those with him to the service of the widows.” Become the steward of your own; love for humankind itself, the fear of God, appoints you. This is free from vainglory too; this refreshes souls, sanctifies hands, pulls down pride, teaches philosophy, makes one more eager, makes you receive the blessings: your head goes away receiving all the blessings of the widows. Be more eager in prayers; seek out holy men too, those truly holy, those who sit in the deserts, who cannot beg, who give themselves to God. Walk a long road, give with your own hand; for there is much to gain by yourself if you give. Do you see the tent and the lodging? Do you see the desert? Do you see the solitude? Often, having gone to give money, you have given … your soul, you have gone abroad from the world with them. It is a great thing also to see the poor. “It is good,” he says, “to go into a house of mourning rather than into a house of laughter.” From there the soul becomes inflamed. For if you are able to live in luxury like them, you have received an incitement to self-indulgence; and if you are not able, you have received grief. But in the house of mourning there is nothing of the kind; even if you cannot live in luxury, you have felt no pain. Truly a house of mourning are the monasteries, where there are sackcloth and ashes, where there is solitude, where there is no laughter and no crowd of worldly affairs, where there is fasting, where there is sleeping on the ground, everything free of the smell of roast meat, of blood, of uproar, of disturbance, of crowds. It is a calm harbour; they are like lamps shining from on high to those who approach from afar, sitting by the harbour and drawing all to their own calm, not letting those who look to them be shipwrecked, not letting those who look there pass their lives in darkness. Go to them … approach, touch holy feet; for it is far more honourable to touch their feet than the head of others. Tell me: if some clasp the feet of statues because they bear a royal likeness at all, will you not clasp by the feet the one who has Christ himself within him, and be saved? Holy are the feet, even if they are poor; but of the profane not even the head is honourable. For the feet of saints have had great power; that is why they also punish when they shake off the dust from themselves. When a saint is with us, let us be ashamed of nothing of his. And all are saints who have right faith together with a right life; even if they work no signs, even if they cast out no demons, they are saints. Go to the tents of the saints: to take refuge in the monastery of a holy man is like going from earth to heaven. You do not see there the things you see in a household: that whole company is pure; there is silence and much quiet; “mine” and “yours” are not there. And if you stay one day or a second, you will feel the pleasure more. Day comes, or rather before day the cock has crowed. And it is not as in a household: the servants snoring, the doors shut, everyone sleeping like the dead, the muleteer shaking his bells. There is nothing of the kind there; but at once all, shaking off sleep with reverence, rise up as their superior wakes them, stand, form the holy choir, at once stretch up their hands, and sing the sacred hymns. For they do not need many hours, as we do, to shake off sleep and heaviness. For we, as soon as we rise, stretch at length, go to relieve ourselves, then wash our face and hands; after this we take our shoes and clothes, and much time is spent.

But there there is nothing of the kind. No one calls a servant, for each one suffices for himself; he does not need many garments, he does not need to shake off sleep; but as soon as he has opened his eyes, he is like one who has been awake a long time, because of his sobriety. For when the heart is not weighed down and sunk by food, it does not need much time to come up again but is at once sober; hands always clean, for the sleep too is orderly. No one hears snoring there, no one hears heavy breathing, nor does one see anyone tossing about in sleep or uncovered, but they sleep lying more decently than the waking. All this comes from the good order within the soul. Truly these are saints and angels among men. And do not wonder when you hear these things; for their great fear of God does not let them sink into the depths of sleep and drown their mind, but sleep lies on them lightly, only refreshing them. Since their sleep is such, their dreams too must be such, not full of fantasies or monstrous. But, as I said, the cock crowed, and at once the superior came, and, simply nudging the one lying there with his foot, roused them all; for it is not permitted to sleep naked there. Then, having risen, they at once stand, singing the hymns of the prophets with much harmony, with well-measured melodies. Neither lyre, nor pipes, nor any other musical instrument gives out such a sound as one may hear in deep quiet and in the desert from those saints singing. And the songs themselves are fitting and full of love for God. “In the nights,” it says, “lift up your hands to God”; and again, “By night my spirit rises early to you, O God, because your commandments are light on the earth.” And the songs of David stir many fountains of tears. For when he sings, saying, “I am weary with my groaning; every night I will wash my bed, I will drench my couch with my tears”; and again, “I have eaten ashes like bread”; and again, “What is man, that you are mindful of him?” “Man has become like vanity; his days pass away like a shadow”; and, “Do not be afraid when a man becomes rich, and when the glory of his house is increased”; and again, “He who makes those of one mind dwell in a house”; and, “Seven times a day I have praised you for the judgments of your righteousness”; and again, “At midnight … for the judgments of your righteousness”; and, “God will redeem my soul from the hand of Hades”; and, “Though I walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me”; and, “from the arrow that flies by day, from the thing that walks in darkness, from mischance …”; “we are counted as sheep for the slaughter”: he shows their burning love for God. And when again they sing with the angels (for angels too sing then), “Praise the Lord from the heavens” … while others lie on their backs and devise countless deceits, what a thing it is that they spend the whole night in this! When day is about to come, they then rest; and when we begin our work, they have their time of rest. When day has come, each of us calls the other, makes the account of expenses; one rushes to the market, stands before a magistrate, trembles, fears the audits; another goes to the theatre, another to his own trade. But they, having again performed the morning prayers and hymns, turn to the reading of the Scriptures; and there are some who have learned to copy books. Each takes one cell assigned to him and practises quiet always, no one chattering, no one saying anything. Then they perform the third, sixth, and ninth hours, and the evening prayers; and dividing the day into four parts, at the completion of each part they honour God with psalmody and hymns. While all the others are taking their midday meal, laughing, playing, bursting with gluttony, they give themselves to the hymns. Nowhere is there time for the table, nor for these things of sense. After the meal they keep to the same things again, having first given themselves to sleep. People in the world sleep even by day; but they keep watch even by night. Truly they are sons of light. Then the others, having spent the greater part of the day in sleep, go out heavy; but these are still sober, remaining without food until late and giving themselves to the hymns. When evening comes again, the others hurry to the baths and to their relaxations; but they, releasing themselves from their labours, then give themselves to the table, not rousing a crowd of servants, nor running about the house, nor making an uproar, nor setting out many dishes full of the smell of roast meat; but some have bread only and salt, others add oil, and others, the weaker ones, take also vegetables and pulses. Then, sitting a little while, or rather … with hymns, the whole made only for rest, not for luxury. There is no fear of magistrates there, no arrogance of masters, no fear of slaves, no clamour of women, no disturbance of children, no multitude of chests, no superfluous store of garments, no gold, no silver; there are no guards and sentries there, no storeroom, nothing else of the kind; but all is full of prayer, all of hymns, all of spiritual fragrance; there is nothing carnal there. They do not fear the attacks of robbers, for they have nothing to lose; there is no money; there is a body and a soul; if they take that away, they have not harmed but helped. “For to me to live,” he says, “is Christ, and to die is gain.” They have freed themselves from all bonds. Truly “the voice of rejoicing is in the tents of the righteous.”

There one never hears wailing or lamentation; that roof is free of these unpleasant things, free of this crying. For they die among them too, since they are not immortal in body; but they do not know death as death. They escort the departed with hymns; they call this an escort, not a funeral. And if it is announced that so-and-so has died, there is great gladness, great pleasure; or rather, no one dares to say that so-and-so has died, but that so-and-so has been made perfect. Then there is thanksgiving, much glory, gladness, each one praying to receive such an end, to come out of this contest so, to rest from labours and contests, to see Christ. And if one falls sick, there are no tears, no lamentation, but prayers again; not the hands of physicians, but faith alone has often freed the sick man. And if he should need physicians too, there is much philosophy here also, much endurance; no wife stands by tearing her hair, no children bewailing the orphanhood that has not yet come, no servants begging the dying man to entrust them safely to someone; but the soul, freed from all these things, looks to one thing only at its last breath, how it may depart a friend of God. And if sickness comes, it does not come from gluttony or from heaviness, but the very causes of their sicknesses are full of praise, not accusation, as ours are: either the intensity of vigils or of fasting or something of that kind produces the sicknesses. Hence … equally freed from all evils. 6. Tell me, then, he says, if someone has washed the feet of the saints in the church: is it possible to find such men here too? It is possible, quite possible; only let us not, because we have described the life of those men, despise those in the churches. There are often many such men even in the midst of the churches, but hidden. For let us not despise them because they go round houses, or because they go into the market, or because they preside. God commanded this too: “Judge for the orphan,” he says, “and vindicate the widow.” Many are the ways of virtue, as there is great difference among pearls, though all are called pearls; one is bright and round on every side, another lacks this beauty but has another. What is that? As if by some art, the coral has an elongated line and its angles carved; one is more pleasing than white colour, the green far more pleasing than any verdure; another offers the brightness of blood with its bloom, another is bluer than the sea, another more brilliant than purple; and one could find countless others vying with flowers in variety, or equalling the colours of the sun. Such are the saints too: some train themselves, others the churches as well. Rightly, then, he said, “If she has washed the feet of the saints, if she has relieved the afflicted”; he spoke so in order to rouse all to imitation. Let us too, then, run to the work, that we may be able to boast there that we have washed the feet of saints. And if we must wash their feet, much more must we hand them money with our own hand, and strive to remain hidden. “Let not your left hand know,” he says, “what your right hand is doing.” Why do you take countless witnesses? Let not even your servant see, if it is possible, nor your wife. Many are the stumbling-blocks of the deceiver; often she who has never hindered will hinder then, either from vainglory or from something else. For Abraham too, though he had an admirable wife, hid it when he was about to offer up his son, though he did not know what would happen, but was persuaded that he would certainly kill him. What then would she have said, if she were one of the common sort? Would she not have said, “Who is this man who does these things?” Would she not have accused him of harshness and boorishness? The wife was not even thought worthy to see her own child, nor to hear his last voice, nor to behold him struggling; but he took him and led him away like a captive. But that righteous man thought of none of these things, drunk with longing; for he saw nothing else but how he might carry out what was commanded; neither son was there, nor wife; or rather he did not even know himself what would happen. So eager was he in every way to offer the sacrifice pure, not to defile it with tears or with protest. And see with what gentleness Isaac asks, and what he says to him: “Here are the wood and the fire; where is the sheep?” What then does the father say? “God will provide himself a sheep for a whole burnt offering, my child.” This is said also as a prophecy, that God will provide his Son for himself as a whole burnt offering; and at the same time it came to pass then too. Why do you hide it from him too, tell me … Yes, he says, I fear lest he grow numb, I fear lest he be found unworthy. Do you see with what great exactness he did everything? Rightly, then, Scripture said, “Let not … your left hand know what your right hand is doing”; that is, even if we have someone as a member of ourselves, let us not be eager to show him, unless there is necessity. For many evils come from this. One is lifted up to vainglory; a hindrance often arises. For this reason let us hide even from ourselves, if possible, that we may obtain the promised good things, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, honour, now and always, and to the ages of ages.