Homilies on 1 Timothy 7.1–7.3

“That we may lead a peaceful and quiet life in all godliness and dignity. This is good and acceptable before God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.”

If he wishes the common wars, battles, and disturbances to be ended, and for this reason urges the one who serves as priest to make prayers for kings and rulers, much more ought private persons to do this. There are three kinds of war, and they are the more grievous ones. One is this common war, when our soldiers are attacked by barbarians; the second is when, even in time of peace, we make war on one another; the third is when each person makes war on himself. This last is the hardest of all. The war from the barbarians will not be able to do us any great harm: for what, tell me, does it do? It slaughtered and killed, but did no harm to the soul. Nor will the second be able to harm us at all, if we do not wish it. For even if others make war on us, we can be peaceable. Hear the prophet saying: “Instead of loving me, they slandered me, but I prayed”; and again, “With those who hate peace I was peaceable”; and again, “When I spoke to them, they fought against me without cause.” But the third cannot be escaped without danger. When the body rebels against the soul, rouses grievous desires, and arms the pleasures of the body, of anger, of envy, it is impossible to obtain the promised good things unless this war is ended; the one who does not quell this turmoil must fall and receive wounds, and they bring forth that death which is in Gehenna. We need, then, much care and thought every day, so that this war may not be stirred up within us, or, if it is stirred up, may not remain, but be quelled and lulled to sleep. What use would it be if the whole world enjoyed deep peace while you were at war with yourself? This is the peace we must have; if we have it, nothing from outside will be able to harm us.

The common peace contributes not a little to it; that is why he says, “that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life.” But if someone is in turmoil when there is quiet, he is very wretched. Do you see that he means this peace, which I call the third? That is why, having said, “that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life,” he did not stop there but added, “in all godliness and dignity.” It is impossible to live in godliness and dignity unless that peace has been achieved. When reasonings that pry into things disturb our faith, what peace is there? When spirits of licentiousness do, what peace is there? So that you may not think he simply means the life that all people live, after saying “that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life,” he adds, “in all godliness and dignity”; since even pagans can lead a peaceful and quiet life, and you might find the licentious, the self-indulgent, and the luxurious living such a life. So that you may learn that he does not mean this, he adds, “in all godliness and dignity.” For that other life has plots and battles, the soul being wounded every day by the tumults of its thoughts. That he means to indicate this life is clear from what follows, and clear also from his not simply saying “in godliness,” but adding “all.” By saying this he seems to require not only the conduct that comes from right doctrines, but also the conduct that is secured by one’s life; godliness must be sought in both. What use is it to be godly in faith and ungodly in life? That one can be ungodly in life, hear this blessed man saying again elsewhere: “They profess to know God, but they deny him by their works”; and again, “He has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever”; and again, “If anyone who bears the name of brother is sexually immoral or greedy or an idolater,” such a man does not honor God; and again, “He who hates his brother does not know God.” Do you see how many ways of ungodliness there are? That is why he says, “in all godliness and dignity.”

It is not only the sexually immoral man who lacks dignity; the greedy man too could be called undignified and unrestrained, for this is a desire no less than bodily desire. One who does not restrain it, then, is called unrestrained; for people are called unrestrained (akolastoi) because they do not restrain (kolazein) desire. So I would say that the angry man too is unrestrained, and the envious, the lover of money, the treacherous, and everyone who lives in sin: unrestrained, undignified, and licentious. “For this is good and acceptable,” he says, “before God our Savior.” What is this? To pray for all: this God accepts, this he wills. “For he desires all people,” he says, “to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.”

Imitate God. If he desires all people to be saved, it is right that you pray for all; if he willed all to be saved, will it too; and if you will it, pray, for prayer belongs to those who will such things. Do you see how from every side he has persuaded the soul to pray even for pagans? He shows how great a gain comes from it: “that we may lead,” he says, “a peaceful and quiet life”; and, what is much greater, that this pleases God and that in this we become like him, by willing the same things as he. These things are enough to put even a wild beast to shame. Do not, then, be afraid of praying for pagans: he himself wills it; be afraid only of praying against them, for this he does not will. And if one must pray for pagans, clearly one must pray for heretics too; for we must pray for all people, not persecute them. This is good for another reason too, because we share the same nature; and God praises and accepts goodwill and affection toward one another.

If the Lord himself wills to give salvation, someone says, what need is there of prayers from me? It contributes much both to them and to you: it draws them to love, and it does not let you become savage; and these things are enough to draw them to the faith. For many people have stood off from God because of the contentiousness of Christians toward one another. Here he calls this the salvation of God, saying, “who desires all people to be saved,” since this truly is salvation; without it the other is nothing great, but only the name and title of salvation. And to the knowledge of what? Of faith in him. He had said earlier, “Charge them not to teach otherwise”; but so that no one should treat them as enemies, or start battles on that account, [he says that God desires all people to be saved] “and to come to the knowledge of the truth.”

Then, having said this, he added: “For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men.” He said, “to come to the knowledge of the truth,” showing that the world is not in the truth. He said again, “For there is one God,” showing that there are not many, as some think. He said that God sent a mediator and Son, showing that he wills all to be saved. What then? Is the Son not God? Most certainly. How then does he say “one”? In contrast to the idols, not to the Son; for his discourse was about truth and error. But the mediator must share in both parties between whom he is mediator; for this is what belongs to a mediator: to be joined to each of those between whom he mediates. If he is joined to one but cut off from the other, he is no longer a mediator. If, then, he is not joined to the Father’s nature, he is not a mediator, but is cut off. Just as he is joined to the nature of human beings, since he came to human beings, so he is joined to that of God, since he came from God. Since he became the mean between two natures, he must be near both natures. Just as the middle of a place is near both ends, so the mean between natures must be near both natures. As he became man, so he was also God. A man would not have become mediator, for he had to converse with God as well; God would not have become mediator, for those for whom he mediated would not have received him. As he says there, “One God the Father, and one Lord Jesus Christ,” so here too, “one” and “one.” He does not write “two.” Since he was discussing polytheism, so that no one might seize on the number two in support of polytheism, he wrote “one” and “one.” Do you see with what exactness Scripture uses its words? For “one and one” makes two; yet we will not say that, although reasoning suggests it. Here you do not say, “one and one, two”; but what reasoning does not even suggest, that you say: “If he begot, he suffered.”

“For there is one God,” he says, “and one mediator between God and men, Jesus Christ, who gave himself as a ransom for all, the testimony at the proper time.” What then? For pagans too, tell me? Yes. Christ even died for the pagans, and you cannot bear to pray for them? How is it, then, someone says, that they did not believe? Because they did not will it; his part was done. The passion is a testimony, he says. For he came to bear witness to the truth of the Father, and was slain. So not only does the Father bear witness to him, but he also bears witness to the Father. “For I have come in my Father’s name,” he says; and again, “No one has ever seen God”; and again, “that they may know you, the only true God”; and again, “God is spirit.” He bore witness, then, to the point of death. And “at the proper time” means at the fitting times. “For which I was appointed a herald and an apostle … in faith and truth.”

Since, then, Christ suffered for the Gentiles, and I was set apart as teacher of the Gentiles, why do you not pray for them? Well does he here show his own trustworthiness by saying, “for which I was appointed a herald,” that is, I was set apart; for the other apostles were very slow toward this. Then he added, “a teacher of the Gentiles in faith and truth.” “In faith” again; but do not think, because you heard “in faith,” that the thing is a deception, for he also says “in truth”; and if it is truth, it is not falsehood. Do you see the grace extended? Among the Jews prayers were not made for such people, but now grace has been extended. That is why he says he was set apart as teacher of the Gentiles, [showing] the grace poured out over all the world.

“Who gave himself as a ransom,” he says. How then was he handed over by the Father? It came about, then, from his own goodness. What does “ransom” mean? God was going to punish them; he did not do it. They were going to perish; but in their place he gave his own Son, and sent us as heralds to proclaim the cross. These things are enough to draw all and to show the love of Christ. Truly great and indescribable are the things God has shown toward us. He sacrificed himself for his enemies, for those who hated him and turned away from him. What no one would do even for friends, or for children, or for brothers, the Master did for slaves; a master not of the same kind as his slaves, but God for men, and men not even of good repute. If they had been of good repute, if they had been pleasing to him, it would not have been so wonderful; but this is what astounds every mind: to die for people so ungrateful and unfeeling. What men do not do for their own kind, this God did for us. And having enjoyed such love, we still grow weary and do not love Christ. He sacrificed himself for us; we overlook him when he lacks even necessary food, and do not visit him when he is sick and naked. What wrath do these things deserve, what punishment, what Gehenna? If there were nothing else, was not this alone enough to urge everyone on, that he deigned to make human sufferings his own and to say, “I hunger and thirst”?

But O the tyranny of money! Or rather, O the wickedness of those who have willingly enslaved themselves to it! Money does not have great strength; it is we who are very feeble and enslaved, we who are lowly and earthbound, we who are carnal, we who are senseless; its strength is not great. What can it do, tell me? It is dumb and senseless. If the devil is nothing, the foul demon, so wicked and stirring everything up, what strength has money? If you see silver, think it tin. But you cannot? Then think what is true: that it is earth; for earth it is. But you do not accept even this thought? Consider that we too will perish; that many who possessed it gained almost nothing from it; that countless people who boasted in it became ashes and dust; that even now they are paying the ultimate penalty, much poorer than those who lived with earthenware and glass, the men on ivory couches often more destitute than those on the dunghill. But it delights the eyes? Many other things can delight the eyes more. Flowers, the air when it is clear, the sky, and the sun delight much more. Silver has much tarnish, which is why many have declared it to be black; and this is clear from the impressions it leaves, which are blackened; but in the sun there is nothing black, nor in the sky, nor in the stars. There is much more enjoyment in these flowers than in that color. It is not the bloom of silver, then, that delights, but greed and injustice; this is what delights souls, not silver. Cast this out of the soul, and you will see that what seems precious is more worthless than mud. Cast out the passion. People with fever long for mire, if they see it, as for springs of water; but those in good health often do not even desire water. Cast out the disease, and you will see things as they are. And that you may learn that I am not lying, I can show many who have done this. Quench the fire, and you will see that these things are cheaper than flowers.

Is gold beautiful? For almsgiving it is beautiful, for the help of the poor it is beautiful, not for useless use, to be stored up indoors, to be buried in the ground, to be wrapped about hands and feet and heads. It was found for this purpose: not that we might bind the image of God with it, but that we might loose those who are bound. Use gold for this: loose the one who is bound, do not bind the woman who is free. Why, tell me, do you prefer the most worthless thing of all? Because it is gold, does it no longer make a chain? Does the material make the chain? Whether it is gold or iron, it is the same; indeed gold is the heavier. What then makes the thing feel light? Vainglory, and being seen bound by everyone, which ought rather to make you ashamed. That this is true, bind a woman and leave her alone, where no one sees her, and she feels the chain heavy and thinks it burdensome. Let us fear, beloved, lest we hear those fearful words: “Bind his hands and feet.” Why do you do this to yourself already, woman? No prisoner is bound both hand and foot. Why do you bind your head too? Are hands and feet not enough? Why do you wrap your neck with countless chains? I pass over the anxiety they bring, the fear, the agony, the quarrel with the husband over them if he should ever need them, the death women endure if any of them should be lost. Is this pleasure, tell me? So that another may delight his eyes, you bind yourself with chains and cares and dangers: does this not deserve every accusation and condemnation? No, I beg you, let us not do these things, but let us “loose every bond of injustice,” let us “break our bread for the hungry,” and do all the other things that can win us boldness before God, so that we may obtain the promised good things in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, honor, now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen.