Homilies on 1 Timothy 3.1–3.4

“I give thanks to him who strengthened me, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to service, though formerly I was a blasphemer … because I acted ignorantly in unbelief; and the grace of our Lord overflowed with faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.”

We see that humility brings great gain, yet it is nowhere quickly found. Humble talk there is in plenty, and more than is fitting, but humility of mind nowhere. Blessed Paul pursued it so earnestly that he devised many pretexts everywhere for humbling his mind. For those who are conscious of great achievements are likely to have most trouble when they wish to be humble, and he too was likely to be under great pressure, swelled by his good conscience as by a flood. See, then, what he does here too. He had said, “I was entrusted with the gospel of the glory of God,” a gospel in which those still keeping to the law may not share; for the law still stands opposed to it, and the gap is so great that those carried along by the law are not yet worthy to share in it, as if one said that those who need chains and punishment may not be admitted to the company of philosophers. Since, then, he had been lifted up and had spoken a great word, he at once restrains himself and persuades others to do the same. Having written “with which I was entrusted,” he quickly checked himself, so that you might not think he said it out of pride. See what correction he uses, going on to say: “I give thanks to him who strengthened me, Christ Jesus our Lord, because he judged me faithful, appointing me to service.”

Do you see how everywhere he hides his own achievement and ascribes the whole to God, yet only so far as not to destroy free will? For the unbeliever might perhaps have said: If everything is God’s and nothing is contributed by us, but he moves us from vice to philosophy as one moves wood and stones, why did he make Paul such a man, and not Judas? To remove this objection, see how wisely he handles his words. “I was entrusted,” he says. This is his own achievement and rank, but not wholly his own. For see what he says: “I give thanks to him who strengthened me, Christ Jesus.” This is God’s part. Then again his own: “because he judged me faithful,” that is, because he was going to prove useful by his own effort. “Appointing me,” he says, “to service, though formerly I was a blasphemer and a persecutor and an insolent man; but I received mercy, because I acted ignorantly in unbelief.” See how he sets down both his own part and God’s, assigning the greater part to God’s providence and making his own small, yet only so far, as I said before, as not to destroy free will.

What does “who strengthened me” mean? Listen. He took up a great burden and needed much help from above. Think what it meant to stand against daily insults, abuse, plots, dangers, mockery, reproaches, deaths, and not to grow weary, not to slip, not to be overturned, but, struck from every side by countless arrows each day, to stand with steady gaze and undismayed. This was not a matter of human strength, nor yet of God’s help alone, but of his own choice as well. That God chose him knowing beforehand what he would be, hear what he says before Paul had even taken up the preaching: “This man is a chosen vessel of mine, to carry my name before Gentiles and kings.” Just as those who carry the royal standard in war, which is commonly called the labarum, need great strength and experience so as not to betray it to the enemy, so those who carry the name of Christ, not in war only but in peace too, need great power, so as not to surrender it to accusing mouths but to carry it well and bear the cross. Truly, much strength is needed to carry the name of Christ. One who says or does or thinks anything unworthy has not carried the name; he does not have Christ in himself. The one who carries it walks in procession not through the marketplace but through the heavens, and all stand in awe, angels escorting him and marveling.

“I give thanks,” he says, “to him who strengthened me, Christ Jesus our Lord.” See how he gives thanks to him even for what was his own. For he says he gives thanks for being a chosen vessel. And yet this was your own doing, blessed Paul, for God is no respecter of persons. But I give thanks, he says, because he thought me worthy of this ministry; this is a sign to me that he judges me faithful. Just as in a household the steward gives thanks to the master not only for being entrusted, but also takes it as a sign that the master considers him more faithful than the others, so too here. Then consider how he exalts God’s mercy and love for humankind by recounting his former life: “though formerly I was,” he says, “a blasphemer and a persecutor and an insolent man.” When he speaks about the Jews who still do not believe, he chooses his words with reserve: “For I bear them witness,” he says, “that they have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge”; but of himself he says, “being a blasphemer and a persecutor and an insolent man.” Do you see his severity against himself, how he is not self-loving, how lowly a mind he keeps? It was not enough to say “a blasphemer and a persecutor”; he says that he did it with violence. I did not stop the evil at myself, he says, nor was I content with blaspheming myself, but I persecuted those who wished to be godly. Great was the madness of that blasphemy. “I received mercy, because I acted ignorantly in unbelief.”

Why, then, did other Jews not receive mercy? Because they did what they did not from ignorance, but knowing and fully understanding it. That you may learn this exactly, hear the evangelist saying that many of the Pharisees and the Jews believed, but did not confess it: “For they loved the glory of men more than the glory of God.” And again Christ says: “How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another?” And again: “His parents said this,” it says (the parents of the blind man), “because of the Jews, lest they be put out of the synagogue.” And the Jews themselves said again: “You see that we are gaining nothing; the whole world is going after him.” Everywhere the passion of love for power troubled them. And indeed they themselves said, “No one can forgive sins but God alone”; and at once he did the very thing that they said was a sign of God. These things, then, did not come from ignorance.

But where was Paul then? someone might ask. At the feet of Gamaliel, having nothing in common with the seditious crowds. And Gamaliel was a man who did nothing for love of power. How then is Paul afterward found with the crowd? He saw the doctrine growing and prevailing, and everyone being persuaded. In Christ’s time the people sometimes went with him and sometimes with their teachers; but when they were completely separated, then at last Paul did what he did, not like the rest for love of power, but from zeal. For why did he go to Damascus? He thought the thing a plague, and was afraid that the preaching might spread everywhere. The Jews were not so: they did everything not to protect the many but for love of power. See, at any rate, what they say: “They will take away our nation and our city.” What fear shook them? A human one.

But this is worth examining: how, being exact about the law, did he know nothing? For he himself is the one who says, “which he promised beforehand through his prophets.” How then do you not know, being a zealot for the ancestral law, schooled at the feet of Gamaliel? Men who spent their time on lakes and rivers, and tax collectors, ran to it and received it; and do you, the man learned in the law, persecute it? That is why he condemned himself, saying, “I am not worthy to be called an apostle”; that is why he confesses the ignorance to which unbelief gave birth; that is why he says he received mercy.

What does “he judged me faithful” mean? He gave away none of his Master’s goods; he said that everything was his Master’s, even what was his own. He did not appropriate God’s glory. Hear him saying elsewhere: “Men, why do you look at us? We too are men of like nature with you.” This is “he judged me faithful.” And again elsewhere: “I labored more abundantly than all of them,” he says, “yet not I, but the grace of God that is with me”; and again: “It is he who works in us both to will and to work.” By this he shows himself to be worthy of punishment, for mercy is shown to such. And again elsewhere he says: “A hardening has come upon Israel in part.”

“The grace of God,” he says, “overflowed with faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.” What is this? It is so that, hearing “I received mercy,” you may not think it was only that much. I was a blasphemer, he says, a persecutor and an insolent man, and therefore worthy of punishment too; but I was not punished, for I received mercy. Was this all, then, and did the mercy go only as far as not inflicting punishment? By no means; there were many other great things besides. For God not only freed us from the sentence hanging over us, but also made us righteous, and sons, and brothers, and friends, and heirs, and joint heirs. That is why he says, “the grace overflowed,” showing that the gifts went beyond mercy. These are not the acts of one who pities, but of one who loves, and loves exceedingly. Having said much, then, and great things about God’s love for humankind, that he had mercy on him though he was a blasphemer, an insolent man and a persecutor, and that he did not stop there but counted him worthy of other great things, he again guards against the unbelievers’ objection, so that they may not say that free choice is abolished. So he added: “with faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.” This much only, he says, did we contribute: we believed that he can save us.

Let us, then, love him through Christ. What does “through Christ” mean? That Christ, not the law, has procured this for us. Do you see what good things Christ has brought us, and what the law? And he did not simply say “grace abounded,” but “overflowed.” Truly it overflowed, suddenly bringing into adoption those who deserved countless punishments. See again: “in” means “through.” For not faith alone is needed, but love too; since there are many even now who believe that Christ is God, but do not love him, nor do what those who love him do. For how can they, when they prefer everything to him: money, the nativity, fate? We live so as to insult him; tell me, what love is this? Whoever has a warm and fervent friend, let him love Christ at least that much; let him at least so love the one who gave his Son for his enemies, when we had done nothing good. Why do I say “done nothing good”? Rather, when we had done great evils and dared what should not be dared, for no reason. He, after countless benefits and acts of care, did not cast us off even so, but gave his Son precisely when we had wronged him most; while we, after obtaining so much, after becoming friends, after being counted worthy of every good thing through him, have not loved him even as one loves a friend.

And what hope will we have? Perhaps you are offended at the word; would that you were offended at the deeds! And how, someone says, do we not love God even as we love our friends? How? I will try to show it; and I pray that I may seem to be saying nothing, to be talking nonsense; but I fear that my words describe the facts. Consider: for friends, real friends, many have often chosen even to suffer loss; but for Christ’s sake no one will bear, I do not say to suffer loss, but even to be content with what he has. For a friend we have often been insulted and taken on enmities; but for Christ’s sake no one takes on enmity. Rather, people say, “Be loved without cause, but do not be hated without cause.” We will never overlook a friend who is starving; but Christ, coming to us every day, asking for nothing great but for bread alone, we do not even admit; and this while we belch out foul smells, are bursting with food, and live in luxury, some of us giving to harlots, others to parasites, others to flatterers, others to freaks and fools and dwarfs; for people bring even the mistakes of nature in for their amusement.

We never envy friends who are real friends, nor are we stung by their success; but toward Christ we feel even this. One may see friendship having more force than the fear of God. For the treacherous and envious man respects men more than God. How? I will tell you. While God sees what is in the heart, a man does not leave off stitching together his deceits; but if a man sees him, he is undone and blushes. Why do I say this? Toward a friend we are afraid of being condemned; but Christ, often dying in prison, we have not even visited. And we go to our friends who are believers not because they are believers, but because they are friends.

Do you see that nothing is done from fear of God or from love for him, but some things from friendship and others from habit? If we see a friend dead, we lament, though we know that he will not be separated from us forever, but that we shall receive him back at the resurrection; yet when Christ is separated from us every day, or rather when we drive Christ away from us every day, we feel no pain, nor do we think we are doing anything terrible when we do what does not please him. But this is not yet the dreadful part, that we do not even treat him as a friend; I will show that we even treat him as an enemy. How? “The mind of the flesh,” says Paul, “is enmity toward God.” This we always carry about with us; but Christ, who always wishes to run to us and comes to our doors, we drive away (for wicked deeds do this), and we cause him to be insulted every day by our greed and our robberies.

Is someone held in honor for his good repute, speaking what belongs to Christ and benefiting the church? We envy him because he does God’s work. We seem to envy him, but the envy passes over to Christ. No, someone says, but we want the benefit to come not through others but through us. Then it is not for Christ’s sake but for our own; for if it were for Christ’s sake, it would make no difference to us whether these things came about through others or through us. Tell me: if a physician whose child was about to go blind were himself too weak for the treatment and found another able to do it, would he drive him away? By no means; he would all but say to him: Whether through you or through me, let the cure be done. Why? Because he looks not to his own credit but to the child’s good. So we too, if we looked to what is Christ’s, would say: Whether through us or through someone else, let the good be done. “Whether in pretense or in truth,” he says, “Christ is proclaimed.” Hear Moses, too, saying to those who wanted to provoke him when Eldad and Medad were prophesying: “Are you jealous for my sake? Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets!” All these things come from love of glory. Are not these the deeds of enemies and foes?

Has someone spoken ill of you? Love him. And how is that possible? It is possible, very possible, if you are willing. If you love one who spoke well of you, you no longer have any credit; you have done it not for the Lord’s sake but for the praise. Has someone harmed you? Do him good. If you benefit one who has benefited you, you have done nothing great. Have you been wronged and suffered great loss? Make haste to repay with the opposite. Yes, I beg you, let us so order our affairs; let us stop wronging and hating our enemies. He commands us to love our enemies, and we persecute even him who loves us. God forbid! someone says. In word we all say this, but not all of us in our deeds. So great is the darkness of sin that what is intolerable in word is tolerated in deeds. Let us at last at least stand apart from what harms and ruins our salvation, so that we may obtain what friends may expect to obtain. “For I desire,” he says, “that where I am, my disciples too may be, that they may see my glory.” May we all obtain it, 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.