Homilies on 2 Timothy 6.1–6.4

“But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay, some for honour and some for dishonour. If then anyone cleanses himself from these, he will be a vessel for honour, sanctified, useful to the master, prepared for every good work.” Many people are still troubled, even now, as to why the wicked remain and are not destroyed. There are, then, many other reasons for this; for example, so that they may become [a help] to many; for, because God is kind and patiently bears with them in their slackness, and leaves them time for repentance so that they may come to their senses if they wish, many have both profited by changing and led many others to salvation by their own example. But Paul brings in something new here, speaking as follows: “In a great house …” Here Paul cites a comparable case: “For in a great house,” he says, “there are not only vessels of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay,” showing by this that, as in a great house there is naturally a great difference between vessels, so it is here in the whole world. He is speaking not of the church but of the whole world. For do not, I pray you, take it to mean the church: there he wishes no vessel to be of wood or clay, but all of gold and silver, where there is the body of Christ, where there is a pure virgin, “not having spot or wrinkle.” What he means is this: do not let it trouble you that there are wicked and defiled people; for in a great house there are such vessels. What then? But they do not enjoy the same honour, he says; some are for honour, others for dishonour. “Yes,” someone says, “but in the house they serve some use, whereas in the world they do not at all.” Even if not for that kind of activity, God uses these very people for other purposes: for instance, the vainglorious man builds a great deal, as do the grasping man, the merchant, the shopkeeper, the magistrate; there are certain works in the world that suit them. But the golden vessel does nothing of the kind; it is occupied about the royal table. He does not, then, say that wickedness is a necessary thing—how could he?—but that these people too have a work. For if all were gold and silver, there would be no need of those; for instance, if all were hardy, there would be no need of buildings; if all were free from luxury, there would be no need of delicacies; if all attended only to need, there would be no need of splendid building. “If then anyone cleanses himself from these, he will be a vessel for honour, sanctified.” Do you see that being gold or clay is not a matter of nature or of material necessity, but of our choice? There, the clay vessel would not become gold, nor could the gold one fall to the cheapness of the clay; but here great change and transformation take place. Paul was a vessel of clay, but became gold; Judas was a vessel of gold, but became clay. So the clay vessels come from uncleanness: the man who uses prostitutes, the grasping man, becomes clay. How then does he say elsewhere, “having this treasure in clay vessels,” so that he honours the clay vessel and does not disparage it, calling it a receptacle of treasure? There he indicates nature itself, not the kind of material. What he means is this: our body is a clay vessel. For as earthenware is nothing else than baked mud, so our body is nothing else than mud hardened by the warmth of the soul. That it is earthen is clear: often, as that vessel falls and is broken and shattered, so the body too, falling in death, is dissolved. For how do bricks differ from potsherds, strong and dry as they are? And how does flesh differ from mud? Is it not likewise made with water? But, as I said, how is it that there he does not disparage the thing? There he is speaking of nature, here of choice. “If then anyone cleanses himself,” he says. He did not say, “cleanses,” but “cleanses himself out,” that is, cleanses himself completely. “He will be a vessel for honour, sanctified, useful to the master.” So those are useless, even if they serve some purpose. “Prepared for every good work.” Even if it is not in use, still it is fit and ready to receive. We must, then, be prepared for everything, whether for death or for martyrdom; we must be ready, whether for virginity or for all these things. “Flee youthful desires.” Youthful desires are not only those of sexual immorality, but every disordered desire, since one must not act like the young. Whether one is insolent, or loves power, or money, or bodies, or anything at all, the desire is youthful and foolish; while the heart is not yet steady, nor the mind settled deep, but still unsettled, all these things are bound to happen. So that no one may be caught by these, what does he advise? “Flee youthful fancies, and pursue righteousness, faith, love, peace, with all who call on the Lord from a pure heart.” By righteousness he means virtue in general, godliness in one's life, faith, love, gentleness. What does “with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart” mean? As if he said: trust only those—not those who merely call on him, but those who do so without guile, without hypocrisy, who have nothing deceitful, who come in peace, who are not quarrelsome; mix with those. With the others you need not be intimate; only keep the peace as far as it depends on you. “Avoid foolish and ignorant questionings, knowing that they breed quarrels.”

Do you see how everywhere he leads him away from questionings? Not because he could not refute them adequately—for he could; and even if he could not, he would have said to him, “Strive to be fit to refute such things,” as when he says, “Attend to reading; for by doing this you will save both yourself and those who hear you.” But he knows that it is useless even to go down at all into such contests, and that there will be no end except fighting and hostility, insults and abuse. Avoid these questionings, then. So there are other questionings, those about the Scriptures and those about other matters. “And the Lord's servant must not fight.” So one must not fight even in questioning. For the servant of God must be far from fighting. For God is the God of peace; how would the servant of the God of peace fight? “But be gentle to all.” “For the Lord's servant must not fight,” he says, “but be gentle to all.” How then does he say, “Rebuke them with all authority,” and here again, “Let no one [despise] your youth”? Because this too belongs to gentleness. For a severe rebuke, when it is given with forbearance, is the one most able to sting. For it is possible, it is possible, to touch someone more with gentleness than to put him to shame with boldness. “Apt to teach”: that is, toward all who wish to be taught. For “a factious man,” he says, “after one and a second admonition, avoid.” “Patient under evil.” He added this well; for the teacher must have this above all; otherwise everything happens in vain. For if fishermen often cast their nets all day and catch nothing, yet do not give up, much more should we not. For see what happens: it often happens that through continual teaching the plough of the word goes down into the depth of the soul and cuts out the passion that troubles it. For one who has heard ten thousand times will be affected somewhat; it is not possible for a man who hears continually not to be affected at all. So it sometimes happens that someone who was about to be persuaded loses everything because we gave up. And it is just as if someone inexperienced in farming dug round a newly planted vine in the first year, and in the second looked to get fruit, and again in the third, and not getting it, then, after the three years had passed, despaired and abandoned it in the fourth, when he was about to receive the return for those labours. Having said “patient under evil,” he is not satisfied, but goes on to say, “correcting his opponents with gentleness.” For the teacher must above all do this with gentleness; for a soul that needs to learn cannot perceive anything useful amid boldness and fighting; even if it is willing to attend, once thrown into perplexity it will learn nothing. For whoever is to learn anything useful must, before all else, be well disposed toward the teacher; and unless this is first prepared, nothing that is needful or useful can come about; and no one would be well disposed toward one who is bold and insulting. How then does he say, “A factious man, after one or a second admonition, avoid”? He means the incorrigible one, whom he knows to be incurably sick. “If perhaps God may grant them repentance leading to knowledge of the truth, and they may come to their senses out of the snare of the devil.” What he means is something like this: perhaps there will be some correction; and “perhaps” is said of what is uncertain. So we must stand back only from those about whom we can declare clearly, and of whom we are persuaded that, whatever happens, they will not change. “With gentleness,” he says. Do you see that those who wish to learn must be received in this way, and that one must never withdraw from the discussions before giving the proof? “Having been captured by him for his will.” He said well, “having been captured”; for meanwhile they are swimming about in error. See how he teaches modesty. He did not say, “If perhaps you may be able,” but “If perhaps the Lord may grant them to come to their senses.” Even if it happens, the whole is the Lord's doing: you plant, you water, he sows and makes it bear fruit. Let us never, then, be disposed as though we ourselves were persuading anyone, even if we do persuade. “And having been captured,” he says, “by him for his will.” One might say this not about doctrines only, but also about life; for his will is that we live rightly. And there are some in the devil's snare on account of their life as well; so one must not lose patience with these either. “If perhaps they may come to their senses,” he says, “having been captured for his will.” The “if perhaps” shows great patience; for not doing the will of … 3. For as a sparrow, even if it is held not by its whole body but by one part, I mean its foot, is under the power of the one who set the snare, so we too, even if we are not held wholly, both by our faith and by our life, but by our life only, are under the power of the devil. “For not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’” he says, “will enter the kingdom of heaven”; and again, “I do not know you; depart from me, you who work lawlessness.” Do you see that there is no gain from faith when the Master does not know us? And to the virgins he says the same: “I do not know you.” What, then, is the gain of virginity and of the many labours, when the Master does not know them? And in many places we find people charged with nothing concerning their faith, but punished only for a wicked life; as elsewhere others are charged with nothing concerning their life … for these things hold together. Do you see that when we do not do the will of God, we are in the snare of the devil? And not only through our whole life, but often through one defect, we go into hell, when our other good deeds do not balance it. For the virgins too were charged not with sexual immorality, not with adultery, not with envy, not with malice, not with drunkenness, not with false belief, but with lack of oil; that is, they did not give alms; for this is the oil. And those who were condemned, “Depart, you cursed, into the eternal fire,” were again charged with none of these things, but they too because they did not feed Christ. Do you see that neglecting almsgiving is enough to bring one into the fire of hell? For where, tell me, will the man who does not give alms be of any use? You fast every day? So did those virgins then, but they gained nothing. You pray? And what of that? Without almsgiving prayer is fruitless; without it all things are unclean, all useless; the greater part of virtue is cut away. “He who does not love his brother,” it says, “does not know God.” But how do you love him, when you will not share with him even these small and cheap things? Tell me, are you chaste? For what reason? Is it not from fear of punishment? “By no means,” you say, “but I pursue the thing by nature.” For if you are chaste from fear of punishment, and endure such violence and such tyranny, much more ought you to give alms. For it is not the same thing to master the desire for money and the desire for bodies; the labour is greater in the second. Why? Because that desire is ours, in the body, whereas the things of money are not. This is how we can be made equal to God: by showing mercy and compassion; so when we do not have this, we are deprived of everything. He did not say, “If you fast, you are like your Father”; he did not say, “If you remain virgins,” nor did he say, “If you pray, you are like your Father”; for none of these belongs to God, nor does God do any of them. But what? “Be compassionate, as your Father in heaven.” This is God's work. If, then, you do not have this, what do you have? “I desire mercy,” he says, “and not sacrifice.” God made heaven, he made earth and sea; these are great things and worthy of his wisdom; but by none of them did he draw human nature to himself as by his mercy and love for humankind. For that was a work of wisdom and power and goodness; but this much more, that he became a slave. Do we not admire him more for this? Are we not more amazed at him for this? Nothing draws God so much as mercy. And all the prophets speak much about these things, up and down. But by mercy I do not mean mercy combined with greed; for this is not mercy. A thorn root never produces oil; the olive's does; so neither does the root of greed produce mercy, nor that of injustice, nor that of robbery. Do not slander almsgiving; do not make it a thing accused by everyone. For if you rob for this reason, so that … nothing is worse than this almsgiving. For when it is born of robbery, it is not almsgiving; it is a kind of harshness and cruelty, an insult to God. If Cain, who offered the inferior of his own goods, so offended, how will one who offers what belongs to others not offend? An offering is nothing else than a sacrifice, a cleansing, not uncleanness. And with dirty hands you do not dare to pray, but offering filth and uncleanness from robbery you think you are doing nothing terrible? You do not let your hands be filled with dirt and uncleanness, but you make them clean and then make your offering; and yet that dirt brings no charge, whereas the other deserves accusation and reproach.

Let us not, then, look only to this, that we offer and pray with clean hands, but also that what we offer is clean. Otherwise it is a laughing-stock, as if someone washed the dish all round and then filled it with unclean gifts: is this not mockery and a joke? Let the hands be clean; and they will be, if we wash them not with water only, but first with righteousness: this is the cleansing of the hands. But if we are full of injustice, even if you wash them ten thousand times, there is no gain. “Wash,” it says, “become clean.” What then? Did he go on to say, “Go to the springs, go to the baths and the lakes and the rivers”? None of these; but what? “Remove your wickedness from your souls”: that is, “Become clean.” This is what frees one from defilement; this is the true cleanness. For the other brought no great benefit, but this grants us boldness before God. The other even adulterers and thieves and murderers can have, and soft and dissolute men, and men who use prostitutes and have prostituted themselves—these most of all. For these are the people who take the greatest care of all over the cleanness of the body, continually smelling of perfumes, fumigating the tomb; for the body is a tomb for them, since the soul within is dead. So it is possible even for these to pursue this cleanness, but not the inward one. It is no great thing if you wash the body; this cleansing is Jewish, unprofitable and useless when the inward one is absent. Suppose someone has rot or spreading sores: let him wash his body all over—what is the gain? What is the result? If no one can help rot in the body by having the outer surface washed over and cleaned, when the rot is in the soul, what shall we gain from the cleanness of the body? Nothing. We need clean prayers; and prayers could not be clean when the soul that gives birth to them is defiled. And nothing makes a soul so defiled as greed and robbery. But there are some who, having done countless evils during the day, go into the church in the evening after bathing, stretching out their hands with great boldness, as though they had put away everything in the pool of water. If this were so, bathing every day would be a great gain; if this were so, I myself would never stop pestering the baths, if they made people clean and freed them from sins. These things are a joke and nonsense, toys and children's games. God does not turn away from dirt on the body, but from uncleanness of the soul. For hear him saying, “Blessed are the pure in heart.” In body? By no means, but “those who are pure in heart, for they shall see God.” And what does the prophet say? “Create in me a clean heart, O God”; and again, “Wash your heart from wickedness.” It is a great good to be in the habit of good things. See how these things, small and unprofitable as they are, … and when the soul has once been taken over by a habit, it does not give it up, nor will it bear to come to prayer without first carrying it out. I mean something like this: we have put ourselves in the habit of washing and then praying, and one cannot do this without washing; we do not pray gladly if we do it with unwashed hands, as though we were about to offend God and were under a bad conscience. If this small thing has such tyranny over us and is carried out without fail every day, then if we had put ourselves in the habit of almsgiving and resolved always to carry it out, never to enter a house of prayer with empty hands, the thing would have been achieved. For great is the tyranny of habit, both in good things and in bad; we shall need no further labour, since it draws us on of itself. Many have put themselves in the habit of signing themselves continually, and no longer need anyone to remind them; even when the mind is often wandering elsewhere, the hand, taught by habit as by a living teacher, moves of its own accord to make the sign. Some have put themselves in the habit of not swearing, and they will not do it, either willingly or unwillingly. Let us too establish ourselves in this habit, the habit of almsgiving. How much labour would we have needed for this remedy to be found? For tell me: if there were not the consolation of almsgiving, and then, having sinned countless times, we had made ourselves liable to punishment, would we not have lamented bitterly? Would we not have said, “Would that it were possible to wash away our sins with money, and we would have spent everything; would that it were possible to drive out God's anger with money, and we would not have spared our possessions”? For if we do this in sickness, and say in the face of death, “If it were possible to buy off death, so-and-so would have given all he had,” much more would we here. And yet see how great God's love for humankind is: he has not given you a temporary death to buy off, but eternal death. Do not buy this small life, he says, but that eternal life; that is the one I sell you, not this one; I am not mocking you. Even if you got this one, you would have got nothing; I know that the other is great. But the shopkeepers and the traders in the things of this life do not act so; they are free to cheat whom they wish, and they give the small thing for the great. But he does not do so: he gives far greater things in return for small ones. Tell me, if you went to a merchant, and two stones lay there, one cheap, the other very precious and able to make you rich, and you paid the price of the small one and received the great one, would you have accused him? By no means; rather you would have admired him. So now too two lives lie before us, the temporary one and the eternal. God sells the one, not the other: the eternal is the one he sells us, not the temporary. Why are we vexed, like foolish children, that we receive the precious one? “Is it possible, then,” someone says, “to buy life with money?” Yes, when we pay down what is our own and not what belongs to others, when we do not commit assault. “But it is mine now,” someone says. It is not yours after the robbery; it is his; it belongs to another, even if you are its master ten thousand times over. For if you receive a deposit, these things are not yours even during the time the depositor is abroad, though they lie in your keeping. If, then, what we received from depositors who gave it willingly and gratefully is not ours, not even during the time we hold it, much more is this not ours, which we seize from the unwilling and reluctant. He is its master, even if you hold it ten thousand times over. Virtue is truly ours; but money is not ours, not even our own money, let alone other people's: today it is ours, tomorrow it is not. But the things of virtue are ours; for virtue is not lost like those things, but is present whole to all. Let us, then, acquire it and despise money, so that we may obtain the truly good things. May we all be counted worthy of them …