Homilies on 2 Timothy 4.1–4.4

“You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus; and what you heard from me through many witnesses, entrust to faithful people who will be able to teach others also. You then, suffer hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. No one serving as a soldier entangles himself in the affairs of life, so that he may please the one who enlisted him. And if anyone competes as an athlete, he is not crowned unless he competes lawfully. The farmer who labours ought to be the first to partake of the fruits. Consider what I say; for the Lord will give you understanding in all things.” At sea, it gives the disciple great courage that his teacher was shipwrecked and came through safely; for he will no longer think that the storms fall upon him because of his own lack of skill, but because of the nature of things; and this is no small comfort. In wars too, it encourages the officer to see the general wounded and recovering again. So too it brings the faithful some consolation that the apostle suffered many terrible things and was softened by none of them; otherwise he would not have recounted his sufferings. For Timothy, hearing that the man who could do so much and had won over the whole world was in bonds and afflictions, and was not vexed or annoyed at being abandoned by his own, would not, if he himself suffered the same things, think that the thing came from human weakness, nor because he was a disciple and less than Paul—since the teacher too suffered these things—but that all this had happened because of the nature of the matter. For Paul too had worked to that end, and that is why he recounts these things: to strengthen him and restore him. That he did it for this reason, at any rate, is clear: after recounting his afflictions and trials, he added, “You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus.” What are you saying? You shook us with fear; you said that you are bound, that you are in affliction, that all have turned away from you; and as though you had said that you had suffered nothing terrible and had not been abandoned by anyone, you go on, “You then, my child, be strengthened”? Yes, for these things serve to strengthen you more than him. For if I, Paul, suffer these things, much more ought you to bear them; if the teacher does, much more the disciple. And he brings the exhortation with great affection, calling him child, and not simply that, but “my child.” If you are a child, he says, imitate your father; if you are a child, be strengthened by what I have said; or rather, not only by the accounts, but also by the grace of God: for “be strengthened,” he says, “by the grace that is in Christ Jesus,” that is, through the grace of Christ. That is: stand nobly; you know the battle line. So elsewhere, when he says, “Our wrestling is not against blood and flesh,” he says it not to cast them down but to rouse them. So be sober, he says, keep watch, hold on to the grace of God, and contribute what is yours with eagerness and resolve. “And what you heard from me through many witnesses, entrust to faithful people”: faithful, not inquisitive, not given to syllogisms. Faithful—which? Those who do not betray the preaching. “What you heard,” not what you have debated; “for faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of God.” What does “through many witnesses” mean? As if he said: you did not hear it secretly or in hiding, but in the presence of many, openly. He did not say, “Tell,” but “Entrust,” as what is deposited in a treasury is deposited in safety. Again he puts fear into the disciple, both from what is above and from what is below. But he does not say only, “Entrust to faithful people”; for what use is it if someone is faithful but cannot pass the teaching on to others, when he himself does not betray the faith but does not make others such? The teacher, then, must have two things: he must be faithful and able to teach. That is why he says, “who will be able to teach others also.” “You then, suffer hardship as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.” Ah, how great the dignity, to be a soldier of Christ! Consider the kings on earth, how great a thing those who serve under them think it. If, then, suffering hardship belongs to a king's soldier, not suffering hardship does not belong to a soldier. So you must not be annoyed if you suffer hardship—for that belongs to a soldier—but be annoyed if you do not suffer hardship. “No one serving as a soldier entangles himself in the affairs of life, so that he may please the one who enlisted him. And if he competes …” These things were said to Timothy, but through him they are said to every teacher and disciple. Let none of those who hold the office of bishop, then, think it beneath him to hear these things; let him rather think it beneath him not to do them. “If anyone competes,” he says, “he is not crowned unless he competes lawfully.” What does “unless lawfully” mean? It is not enough if he enters the contest, nor if he is anointed, nor if he grapples; unless he keeps the whole law of the contest—that concerning food, and that concerning self-control and decorum, and that of the wrestling school—and in short goes through everything that befits athletes, he is never crowned. And see Paul's wisdom: he mentioned the athletic contest and soldiers—the one so as to be ready for slaughter and killing and blood, the other for endurance, so as to bear everything nobly and be always in training. “The farmer who labours,” he says, “ought to be the first to partake of the fruits.” He spoke from his own examples, he spoke from the teacher; now he speaks also from what commonly happens, from athletes and soldiers; and there he sets out the prizes: for the one, “that he may please the one who enlisted him”; for the other, “that he may be crowned.” And he gives a third example too, which especially suits him: that of the soldier and that of the athlete fit those under rule, but that of the farmer, finally, fits the teacher. Not only as a soldier, nor only as an athlete, but also as a farmer. The farmer takes care not only of himself but also of the fruits of the earth; that is, the farmer too reaps no small reward for his labours.

Here he shows both God's freedom from need and the recompense of teaching, by speaking of a common thing. As the farmer, he says, does not labour without profit, but himself enjoys his own labours before the others, so it is reasonable for the teacher too. Either he means this, or he speaks of teachers being honoured. But that has no ground: for why did he not say simply “farmer,” but “the farmer who labours,” and not simply the one who is weary, but the one who toils hard? Here too, so that no one may be annoyed at the delay: you receive it already, he says; or he means that the recompense is in the labour itself. Since, then, he had set down the examples of soldiers and athletes and farmers, all of them somewhat obscurely … And having said, “The farmer who labours ought to be the first to partake of the fruits,” he added, “Consider what I say; for God will give you understanding in all things.” For it was for this reason that these things were said in proverb and parable. Then, showing his affection again, he does not stop praying for him, as one who fears for a true child, and says, “Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, of the seed of David, according to my gospel, for which I suffer hardship even to bonds, as an evildoer.” Why does he mention this here? Chiefly he is aiming at the heretics; at the same time he is restoring Timothy and showing the gain of sufferings, since our teacher Christ himself overcame death through suffering. Remember this, he says, and you will have sufficient comfort. “Remember,” he says, “Jesus Christ, raised …” … for from that time some began to overturn the dispensation, ashamed at the greatness of God's love for humankind. For the benefits God conferred on us were such that people were ashamed to ascribe them to God, and disbelieved that he had come down so far. “According to my gospel,” he says. He puts this everywhere in his letters, saying, “according to my gospel,” either because they ought to obey him, or because there were others preaching a different gospel. “For which I suffer hardship,” he says, “even to bonds, as an evildoer.” Again he brings in the consolation from his own case, again the exhortation; and he anoints the hearer with these two things: with knowing how to suffer hardship, and with not doing so for nothing useful. In this way he gains; in the other he would even be harmed. For what use is it if you show the teacher suffering hardship, but for nothing useful? But this is wonderful, if it is for something useful, for the benefit of those who are taught. “But the word of God is not bound.” That is, if we were worldly soldiers, he says, or if we were waging a war of the senses, these bonds would have force, holding our hands down; but as it is, God has made us such that we are overcome by nothing. For the hands are bound, but not the tongue; no one can bind a tongue, except cowardice and unbelief alone; so if we do not have these, even if you put bonds around us, the preaching is not bound. For example, if someone binds a farmer, he has hindered the sowing, for he sows with his hand; if you bind a teacher, you have not hindered the word, for he sows with the tongue, not with the hand. Our word, then, is not subjected to bonds: while we are bound, it is set free and runs. How? he says. Because, look, even in bonds we preach. This is for the encouragement of those who are free: if we preach in bonds, much more must you who are free do this. Did you hear that I suffer these things as an evildoer? Do not be downcast. For the marvel is great, that one who is bound does what the free do, that one who is bound overcomes all … For the word is God's, not ours; and human bonds will not be able to encircle the word of God. “I suffer these things for the elect.” “That is why,” he says, “I endure everything for the elect, that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory.” See, here is another exhortation: not for myself, he says, but for the salvation of others I endure these things. It was possible for me to live without danger, it was possible to suffer none of these things, if I looked to my own interests. But for whose sake do I suffer these things? For the good of others, that others may obtain eternal life. What, then, do you promise? He did not simply say, “for these people,” but “for the elect.” If God chose them, we must suffer everything for them, “that they too may obtain salvation.” To say “they too” is to show and say, “as we also do”; for God chose us also. And as God suffered for us, so we too suffer for them; so the thing is a repayment, not a favour. On God's side it was grace, for he conferred his benefits without having first received any; on ours it is a return: having first received benefits from God, we suffer for those for whom we suffer, so that they may obtain salvation. What are you saying? What salvation? You who cannot be the cause of salvation for yourself, but are being destroyed, do you become the cause of salvation for another? That is why he added: not this salvation, he says, but “the one that is in Christ Jesus,” the true salvation, “with eternal glory.” The present things are painful, but they are on earth; the present things are gloomy, but they are temporary; they are full of distaste and pain, but only until today and tomorrow.

But the good things are not of that kind; they are eternal, they are in heaven. That is truly glory, and this is dishonour. For see, I pray you, beloved: there is no glory on earth; the true glory is in heaven. If anyone wishes to be glorified, let him be dishonoured; if anyone wishes to obtain rest, let him be afflicted; if anyone wishes to be honoured and to live in delight forever, let him spit on the things that are temporary. Come, let us show as well as we can that dishonour is glory and glory dishonour, so that we may see the true glory. It is not possible to be glorified on earth; if you wish to be glorified, seek dishonour. And come, let us examine this in the case of two persons, Nero and Paul. The one had the glory of the world, the other its dishonour. How? The one was a tyrant; he had achieved much, set up trophies, had wealth flowing in from every side, countless armies, the greater part of the world subject to him, the imperial city subject to him, the whole senate bowing down; he came forth from the palace itself in splendid array. If he had to arm, he went out armed with gold and precious stones; if he had to sit in peace, he sat clothed in purple. He had many spearmen, many shield-bearers; he was called lord of land and sea, Emperor, Augustus, Caesar, King, and many other such names, which flattery and servility invented; and nothing at all was lacking to him for glory; even sages and potentates and kings trembled at him and feared the man—for besides he was said to be cruel and reckless—; he even wished to be a god, and despised all the idols and the God who is over all himself, and was worshipped as a god. What is greater than this glory? Or rather, what is worse than this dishonour? But somehow my mouth ran ahead under the force of the truth and brought in the verdict before the trial. For the moment let us examine the matter according to the opinion of the many, according to that of the unbelievers, according to flattery. What is greater, by the measure of glory, than being thought a god? Truly this is a great dishonour, that a human being should rave in this way; but for the moment let us examine the matter according to the opinion of the many. Nothing, then, was lacking to him for human glory; he was worshipped by all as a god. But let us set Paul against him, if you will. The man was a Cilician; and how great the distance is between Cilicia and Rome, everyone knows. He was a leatherworker, poor, without experience of outside wisdom, knowing only Hebrew, a language ridiculed by all, and especially by the Italians. For they do not ridicule those who speak a barbarian tongue, or Greek, or any other, so much as the language of the Syrians; and Hebrew has much in common with it. And do not wonder that they despised it; for if they despise Greek, wonderful and beautiful as it is, much more the language of the Hebrews. A man who often lived in hunger and lay down to sleep hungry, a naked man, without anything to put on: “in cold and nakedness,” he says. And not only these things, but he was also in bonds: with robbers, with sorcerers, with grave-robbers, with … and he was scourged as an evildoer, as he says himself. Who, then, is more illustrious? Do not the many not even know the other's name, while this man Greeks and barbarians and Scythians and those at the very ends of the world praise in song every day? But let us not yet examine the present, but the situation at that time. Who was more illustrious? Who more glorious? The one who wore the chain and was dragged in bonds from the prison, or the one who wore the purple and came forth from the palace? The one in bonds, by all means. How? Because the one, though he had armies and presided in splendid array, could not accomplish what he wished, while the prisoner, as an evildoer in mean dress, did everything with greater authority. How, and in what way? The one said, “Do not spread the word of godliness”; the other said, “I will not put up with that; for the word of God is not bound.” And the Cilician, the prisoner, the tentmaker, the poor man, the one who lived in hunger, spat upon the man of Rome, the rich man, the ruler, the master of all, who gave countless gifts to countless people; and with all his armies he could do nothing. Who, then, was illustrious? Who was dignified? The one who conquered in bonds, or the one who was conquered in purple? The one who stood below and struck, or the one who sat above and was struck? The one who gave orders and was despised, or the one who received orders and took no account of them? The one who was alone and prevailed, or the one who was defeated with countless armies? So the emperor went away, the prisoner having set up a trophy over him. Tell me, then: on which side would anyone have wished to be? Do not tell me of what came afterwards; for the moment examine that time: on which side would anyone have wished to be, Paul's or Nero's? I do not mean by the measure of faith—that is clear—but by that of glory and dignity and splendour. Anyone fair-minded would have said, Paul's. For if conquering is more splendid than being conquered, he was the glorious one. And the great thing is not yet that he conquered, but that, dressed as he was, he conquered one dressed as the emperor was. For I will say it again, and I will not stop saying the same things: he wore a chain, and he struck down the one who wore the diadem.

Such is the power of Christ: a chain conquered the royal crown, and this dress was shown to be more splendid than that. He wore squalid rags, as one who lived in a prison, and more than the purple he turned everyone's eyes to the bonds he wore; he stood on the ground, held fast and looking down, and everyone left the man on the golden chariot and paid attention to him—and rightly so. For it was the usual thing to see the emperor seated behind a white team; but this was strange and unexpected, to see a prisoner speaking with the emperor with as much boldness as an emperor would use to a pitiful and wretched slave … those who were the emperor's; and they admired not their own master, but the man who was conquering their master; and the one whom everyone feared and trembled at, this man, alone as he was, trampled underfoot. See how great the splendour is even in the bonds themselves. What would anyone say of what came after? Of the one not even the tomb is known; but this man, more splendid than all kings, lies in the imperial city itself, where he conquered, where he set up his trophy. If anyone mentions the one, he mentions him with censure, even among his own people (for he is said to have been licentious too); the other's memory is everywhere held in praise, not only among us, but also among our enemies. For when the truth shines out, not even enemies can be shameless; if they do not admire him for his faith, they admire him for his boldness, for his courage. This man is proclaimed and crowned every day everywhere, in the mouths of all; the other is pelted with censure and accusations. Which, then, are the splendid things? But I have unwittingly been praising the lion by its claw, when I ought to speak of the true things. And what are these? The things in heaven: how he will come with the King of heaven, in splendid array; how Nero will then stand, downcast and gloomy. And if I seem to you to say incredible and ridiculous things, you are the ridiculous one, for laughing at what deserves no laughter. If you disbelieve what is to come, believe on the strength of what has already happened: it is not yet the time of the crowns, and the athlete has enjoyed so much honour; when the president of the games comes, how much honour will he enjoy? Among things not his own he was a stranger, a stranger and a sojourner, and even so he is admired; when he is among his own, what good will he not enjoy? Now “our life is hidden with Christ in God,” and yet the dead man is more active and more honoured than the living; when “our life” itself comes, what will he not share in, what will he not obtain? It was for this reason that God made him enjoy this honour, not because he needed it. For if while he was in the body he despised the glory that comes from the many, much more now that he is released from the body. And God did not make him enjoy it for this reason alone, but so that those who disbelieve what is to come may be led on at least by what is present. I say that Paul will come with the King of heaven when the resurrection takes place, that he will enjoy countless good things. But the unbeliever does not believe; then let him believe from what is present. The tentmaker is more splendid than the emperor, more honoured than the emperor; no one who became emperor of Rome ever enjoyed so much honour; but the emperor lies cast out somewhere outside, while the other holds the centre of the city, as though he were a king and alive. From these things believe about the future too. If here, where he was driven about, where he was persecuted, he enjoyed so much honour, when he comes, what will it be? If, where he was a tentmaker, he became so illustrious, when he comes shining back at the rays of the sun, what will it be? If with such meanness he prevailed over such magnificence, when he comes, what will he not prevail over? Can one escape the facts? Whom does it not put to shame that the tentmaker became more honoured than the emperor, more admired than all kings? If here things beyond nature have happened, much more in the world to come. Believe what is present, man, if you will not believe what is to come; believe what is seen, man, if you will not believe what is unseen. Or rather, believe what is seen; for so you will also believe what is unseen. But if you will not, it is timely to say the apostle's words: “We are clean of your blood; for we have testified everything to you,” and we have left out nothing that ought to be said. Blame yourselves, and you will have the punishment in hell to reckon with. But let us, beloved children, become imitators of Paul not only in faith but also in life. That we may obtain heavenly glory, let us trample on the glory here; let nothing of all that is present draw us; let us despise what is seen, so that we may obtain what is heavenly; or rather, we shall obtain these things too through those; but let the first aim be to obtain those. May we all be counted worthy of them.