Homilies on 2 Timothy 5.1–5.4

“The saying is faithful: for if we have died with him, we shall also live with him; if we endure, we shall also reign with [him; if we deny him, he also will deny us;] if we are faithless, he remains faithful; [for he cannot deny] himself. Remind [them of these things, charging them before the Lord] not to fight about words, which is of no use, [to the] ruin [of those who hear].” Many of the weaker sort of people give up before the labour of faith and cannot bear the delay of hope; they look for present things and judge the future by them. Since, then, what lay here was death, tortures, bonds, and he says that they will come to eternal life, no one would have believed it, but would have said, “What are you saying? While I live, I die, and when I die, I live? On earth you promise me nothing, and in heaven you give? The small things you do not give, and the great ones you provide?” So that no one may think this, he makes the proof of it beyond dispute, having laid its foundation already and given proofs (for “Remember Jesus Christ raised from the dead” means this: that he rose after death); and now, making the same thing plain again, he says, “The saying is faithful”: that whoever has obtained the heavenly life will also obtain the eternal. How is it faithful? “For if we have died with him,” he says, “we shall also live with him.” Tell me, do we share with him in what is gloomy and toilsome, and no longer in what is good? Not even a human being would do this: refuse a share to one who had chosen to die and be afflicted with him, if he ever came into ease. Where did we die with him? He means this death, both the one through the bath and the one through sufferings; for he says, “always carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord,” and, “we were buried with him through baptism,” and, “we have become united with him in the likeness of his death.” Here he means also the death of trials, or rather this above all; for he was in trials when he wrote these things. What he means is this: if we have died for him, shall we not live through him? This is beyond dispute. “If we endure,” he says, “we shall also [reign with him]” … but “if we endure,” showing that it is not enough to die once (this blessed man died every day), but there is need of much endurance, which Timothy especially needed. For do not tell me of the beginning, he says, but whether it lasts to the end. Then he exhorts from the other side too, not only from the good things but also from the evil ones. For if the wicked were going to share the same things, this is no encouragement; and if those who endured were going to reign with him, while those who did not endure suffered only this, not reigning with him, this too is terrible, but not enough to sting the many. That is why [he says, “If we deny him, he also] will deny us.” So the recompenses are not only in good things, but in the opposite too. Consider what the one whom he denies in his kingdom is likely to suffer. “Whoever denies me,” he says, “I too will deny him.” The repayment is not equal, even if it seems so when he speaks this way; for we who deny are human beings, but he is God; and how great the distance between God and human beings is, what need is there to say? Or …

Besides, by this we harm ourselves, but him not at all; nor can we. That is why he added, making the same thing plain, “If we are faithless, he remains faithful; for he cannot deny himself.” That is, if we do not believe that he rose, he is not harmed by this at all: he is true, he is firm, whether we say so or not. If, then, he is not harmed at all by us who deny him, he demands our confession for no other reason than our advantage. For he remains the same whether we deny him or not. “For he cannot deny himself”: that is, not exist. We say that he does not exist, even if that is not how things are. He does not have a nature capable of not existing; it is not possible—that is, for him to pass into non-existence. He always remains; his being always is. Let us not, then, be disposed as though we were doing him a favour, or as though we were harming him. Then, so that no one might think that Timothy needed these things, [he says, “Remind them of these things, charging them] before the Lord not to fight about words, which is of no use, to the ruin of those who hear.” It is a fearful thing to speak with God as witness. For if no one would dare to set aside the testimony of a man called as witness, much less that of God. I mean something like this: if someone making a contract or writing a will wishes to call trustworthy witnesses, will anyone dare to transfer those things to some outsider? By no means; and even if he wishes to, he refrains, out of fear of the witnesses' credit. What does “charging” mean? He calls God as witness of what is said and done. “Not to fight about words, which is of no use.” Not only this, but also “to the ruin of those who hear.” Not only is there no gain from it, but much harm as well. Remind them of these things, then; and if they despise them, God will judge them. Why does he also exhort them not to fight about words? He knows that the thing is alluring, and that the human soul always wants to fight and to dispute about words. So, so that this may not happen, he does not simply say not to fight about words, but, to make the saying more fearful, he added, “to the ruin of those who hear.” “Do your best to present yourself approved to God, a worker who has no need to be ashamed.” Everywhere the “unashamed.” Why does he take such pains about shame? Because it was likely that many were ashamed both of Paul himself, as a tentmaker, and of the preaching, since its teachers were being put to death. For Christ was crucified, Paul was about to be beheaded, Peter was impaled head downwards, and they suffered these things at the hands of men … “Do not be ashamed,” he says; that is, do not be ashamed at all to do anything that belongs to godliness, even if you must serve as a slave, even if you must suffer anything whatever. How does one become approved? By being a worker who has no need to be ashamed. The worker is ashamed of doing nothing; so too the worker of the gospel, for he must submit to everything. “Rightly cutting the word of truth.” He said this well; for many pull it about from every side and drag it this way and that; many things grow upon it. And he did not say, “straightening,” but “rightly cutting”; that is, cut away what is spurious, and set about such things with great vigour and cut them out: as with a leather strap, with the knife of the Spirit cut away on every side what is superfluous and foreign to the preaching. “But avoid profane [empty talk].” For they will not stop at that point. For when something new has been brought in, it always begets further innovations; and the wandering of one who has left the calm harbour is endless, and he will stop nowhere. […“and their talk will spread like gangrene”: an] evil [that spreads], that can no longer be checked by treatment, but ruins the whole. He shows that novel talk is a disease, or rather worse than a disease. Here he shows that they cannot be corrected, and that they went astray not by chance but willingly; and that is why these especially cannot be corrected: “Among whom are Hymenaeus and Philetus,” he says, “who have swerved from the truth, saying that the resurrection has already happened, and they are overturning the faith of some.” He said well, “They will advance further”; for this alone seems to be the terrible thing, but see how many things are born of it. For if the resurrection is already past, we are penalized not only in this, that we have been deprived of that great glory, but also in that the judgment is done away with, if it has already happened, and the recompense too; for if the resurrection has already happened, the recompense has happened too. So the good have enjoyed afflictions and pains, and the wicked, who live in great luxury, are not punished—a fine thing indeed! It would be better to say that there is no resurrection than that it has already happened. “And they are overturning,” he says, “the faith of some”: not of all, but of some. For if there is no resurrection, what belongs to the faith is overturned too: “if there is no resurrection, our preaching is empty,” and “neither has Christ been raised”; and if he did not rise, neither was he born, nor did he ascend into heaven. Do you see how this error seems to oppose the doctrine of the resurrection only, but drags many terrible things along with it? “What then?” he says. “Must nothing be done for those who are being overturned?” “Nevertheless,” he says, “the firm foundation of God stands, having this seal: ‘The Lord knows those who are his,’ and ‘Let everyone who names the name of the Lord depart from unrighteousness.’” 3. He shows that even before they were overturned they were not firm; for otherwise they would not have been overturned at the first assault, just as Adam was not firm even before the commandment. For those who are fixed not only suffer nothing from deceivers but are even admired. “Firm,” he says, and “a foundation.” This is how one must hold to the faith. “Having this seal: ‘The Lord knows those who are his.’” What is this? He took it from Deuteronomy. That is, the firm souls stand fixed and immovable. How are they known? By having these letters upon their deeds, by being known by God and not perishing along with the others, by having departed from unrighteousness. “Let everyone,” he says, “who names the name of the Lord depart from unrighteousness.” These are the marks of the foundation; this is how a firm foundation is shown. It is as though someone had inscribed letters upon a stone so that they might signify something; and these letters are shown through works. “Having,” he says, “this seal” fixed upon it. “Let everyone,” he says, “who names the name of the Lord depart from unrighteousness.” So when someone is unrighteous, he does not belong to the foundation. So this too belongs to the seal: not doing what is unrighteous. Let us not, then, lay aside the royal seal and the mark, so that we may not be unsealed, so that we may not be rotten, so that we may be foundations, and firm foundations, so that we may not be carried about. This is what shows those who are God's: those who depart from unrighteousness. For how can anyone belong to God, who is righteous, if he does what is unrighteous, fighting him with his works and insulting him with his deeds? Again we are accusing unrighteousness, and again we have many who are hostile to us. For like a tyrant this passion has seized everyone's soul; and the terrible thing is that it is not by necessity or force, but by persuasion and gentleness, and they are grateful for this slavery. This is truly the terrible thing; for if they were held by force and not by love, they would quickly have revolted. And why does the thing seem sweet, when it is very bitter? And why is righteousness bitter, when it is very sweet? Because of our senses. In this way some have even thought honey bitter, and have taken something harmful with pleasure. The cause lies not in the nature of things but in the perversion of those who are diseased. Consider the judgment-seat of our soul. For if a balance has a tottering pan, it does not weigh the weights justly … And if a soul does not have the pan of its reasonings fixed and securely fastened to the law of God, it will not be able to judge things well, but is carried about and dragged down. For if one examines carefully, he will see that the bitterness of unrighteousness is great, not for those who suffer it but for those who commit it, and for these more than for those. And let us not yet speak of the future, but for the moment of things here: does it not bring fights and lawsuits, condemnation and envy and evil-speaking? What is more bitter than these? Does it not bring hostilities, wars, accusations? Does not the conscience continually scourge and bite us? I would wish, if it were possible, to draw out of the body the soul of the unjust man, and you would see it passing judgment on itself. For even if we fall to the very bottom of wickedness, the judgment-seat of the mind is not corrupted, but stands unbribed; and no one pursues unrighteousness calling it good; he invents pretexts and does everything to strip off the charge, at least in words; but he will not be able to strip it off his conscience. For here, elegance of words and bribery of magistrates and crowds of flatterers can obscure what is just; but within, in the conscience, none of these things happens: flatterers are not present, money is not present to corrupt the judge; for the judgment-seat has been placed in us by nature, by God, and what comes from God could suffer nothing of the kind.

But also unpleasant sleep and fantasies, and the evil deed coming continually to mind, spoil our rest. For example, someone has unjustly taken a man's house: not only does the one deprived of it groan, but also the one who deprived him, if he is persuaded about the judgment; and if anyone is persuaded of it, he groans and laments bitterly; but if he does not believe in what is to come, even so he blushes with shame. Or rather, there is no human being, whether Greek or Jew or heretic, who does not fear the judgment; and even if he does not reflect about the future, he fears and trembles about things here, lest he pay for it more heavily in his money, in his children, in his household, in his life; for God does many such things. For since the doctrine of the resurrection is not strong enough to bring everyone to their senses, here too he provides and brings into view many proofs of his just judgment: so-and-so, who acted greedily, had no children; so-and-so fell in war; another was maimed in body; another lost a child. These things he thinks of, these things he imagines; he lives with continual fear. Do you not know how much those who do wrong suffer? Or are these things not bitter? And even if nothing of the kind should happen, does not everyone condemn him? Does not everyone hate him? Does not everyone turn away from him? Does not everyone say that he is more brutish than the beasts, even the wrongdoers themselves? For if they condemn themselves, much more another, calling him robber, grasping, destroyer. What sweetness, then, does it have? None, except that more anxiety is added about guarding those goods, more care and worry. For the more money someone surrounds himself with, the more intense the sleeplessness he creates for himself. And what of the curses of the wronged, their petitions? And what if illness comes upon him? For it is not possible, it is not possible, for one who has fallen ill, even if he is the most godless of all, not to be anxious and worried about those things, when he can do nothing. For while we are here, the soul, living in pleasure, does not put up with what is painful; but when it is about to leap out of the body, then greater fear grips it, since it has come to the very porch of the court. Robbers too live without fear while they are in prison; but when someone leads them out and stands them by the curtain of the court, they melt with fear. For when the fear of death comes upon it, like fire it burns away all those things and compels the soul to be wise and to be anxious about the things there; no longer does the desire for money hold it, no longer the love of gain, no longer that of bodies. Like clouds, then, these things pass away and leave the judgment-seat clear, while grief comes in and softens its hardness. For nothing is so opposed to wisdom as luxury, just as, on the other hand, affliction is well suited to wisdom. Consider, I pray you, what the grasping man will be like then. “For an hour of affliction,” it says, “makes one forget much luxury.” What will he be like when he thinks of those he has robbed, those he has wronged, those he has defrauded? What will he be like when he sees others enjoying the fruits of his greed, and himself about to pay the penalty? For it is not possible, it is not possible, for one who has fallen into illness not to suspect these things too; often the soul itself is turned over from its depths, in anguish. How bitter is this, tell me? These things must happen with every illness. And if he sees others punished, if he sees them dying, what will he not suffer? And these things happen here; but those there one cannot even describe: how great the punishment, how many the penalties, how many the tortures, how many the racks. We say these things: “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” We speak of them continually, not because we wish to speak of them continually, but because we are compelled. For we would wish that there were no need of such words at all; or failing that, that we might free you from the disease with a little treatment and bring you back to health. But while you remain in your sickness, it would be the mark of a slack and vulgar soul to give up the method of healing, and of harshness and cruelty. For if we beg the doctors who have given up on the body, saying, “Do not neglect him, but by all means go on applying what you can until his last breath, and do not slacken,” shall we not much more exhort ourselves? For perhaps, even after coming to the very gates of Hades and to the very porch of wickedness, a man will be able to return to soberness, to recover and be strengthened, and to lay hold of eternal life. How many, after the tenth hearing, did not even become aware, but later turned from a single one? Or rather, not from a single one; for even if they were insensible through the ten, they nevertheless profited, and later showed the fruit all at once. As with a tree that has received ten blows and has not fallen from the ten, but afterwards, when one more is brought down on it, comes down entirely: the result is not the work of the one blow, but the success of the last belongs to the ten; and whoever looks at the root knows this, but whoever judges from above, from the trunk, can see nothing of the kind. So it is here too. And often, when doctors have applied many remedies, there has been no benefit; but afterwards someone came and set everything right. The work is not his alone, but also that of those who had already worked on the disease. So even if we do not yield the fruits of hearing now, we shall yield them later; for that we shall yield them I am fully persuaded. For it is not possible, it is not possible, for such love of listening and such longing to come to nothing—God forbid!—but may we all, having become worthy of Christ's exhortations, obtain the eternal good things.