Homily 13 — First Timothy 4, verse 11, to 5, verse 7

“Command and teach these things. Let no one despise your youth, but be an example to the believers in word, in way of life, in love, in spirit, in faith, in purity. Until I come, devote yourself to reading, to exhortation, to teaching. Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you by prophecy, with the laying on of the hands of the presbytery.” [a]

In some cases you must command, in others you must teach. If you command where teaching is called for, you will make yourself ridiculous. And again, if you teach where you ought to command, you lay yourself open to the same reproach. For example, you should not teach a man not to be wicked; you should command him, and forbid it with full authority. Not to practice Judaism should be a matter of command. But teaching is called for when you want to lead people to part with their possessions, or to take up virginity, or when you are speaking about the faith. That is why Paul mentions both: “Command and teach.” When a man uses amulets, or does anything of that kind knowing it to be wrong, all he needs is a command. But the one who does it in ignorance must be taught his error.

“Let no one despise your youth.” [b]

Notice that it is fitting for a priest to command and to speak with authority, and not always to teach. But because youth is apt to be looked down on, from a common prejudice, he says, “Let no one despise your youth.” For a teacher ought not to be exposed to contempt. But if he is not to be despised, what room is left for gentleness and restraint? The truth is that the contempt he meets in his own person he ought to bear, for teaching is commended by patience. But not so where others are concerned; for that is not gentleness, it is having no feeling at all. If a man takes revenge for insults, abusive words and injuries done to himself, you are right to blame him. But where the salvation of others is at stake, command, and step in with authority. This is not a case for restraint but for authority, so that the common good does not suffer. He prescribes the one or the other as each case requires.

Let no one despise you because you are young. For as long as your life balances your youth, you will not be despised for it; you will be admired all the more. That is why he goes on to say, “But be an example to the believers in word, in way of life, in love, in faith, in purity.” “In all things showing yourself an example of good works.” That is, be yourself a pattern of the Christian life, a model set before others, a living law, a rule and standard of good living; for that is what a teacher ought to be. “In word,” so that he may speak with ease; “in way of life, in love, in faith, in purity,” true purity; “in self-control.”

“Until I come, devote yourself to reading, to exhortation, to teaching.” Even Timothy is commanded to apply himself to reading. Then let us learn from this not to neglect the study of the sacred writings. And notice again that he says, “Until I come.” See how he comforts him. Separated from Paul, Timothy was, as it were, an orphan, and it was natural that he should need such comfort. “Until I come,” he says, devote yourself to reading the divine writings, to exhorting one another, to teaching everyone. [c]

“Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you by prophecy.” Here he calls teaching prophecy. “With the laying on of the hands of the presbytery.” He is not speaking here of presbyters but of bishops. For presbyters cannot be supposed to have ordained a bishop.

Verse 15: “Meditate on these things; give yourself wholly to them.” Notice how often he gives him counsel about the same things, showing by this that a teacher ought to attend to these points above everything else. Verse 16: “Pay close attention,” he says, “to yourself and to the teaching; continue in them.” That is, take care of yourself, and teach others too.

“For by doing this you will save both yourself and those who hear you.” It is well said, “You will save yourself.” For the one who is “nourished in the words of sound teaching” is the first to receive the benefit of it himself. By admonishing others, his own heart is pierced. For these things are not said to Timothy alone, but to everyone. And if such advice is given to him, a man who raised the dead, what is to be said to us? Christ too shows the duty of teachers when he says, “The kingdom of heaven is like a master of a household who brings out of his treasure things new and old” (Matthew 13, verse 52). And the blessed Paul gives the same advice, “that we, through the endurance and the comfort of the Scriptures, might have hope” (Romans 15, verse 4). [d]

He practiced this more than anyone. He had been brought up in the law of his fathers at the feet of Gamaliel, and so afterward he would naturally apply himself to reading; for the one who exhorted others would first follow the advice he gave. That is why we find him constantly appealing to the testimony of the prophets and searching their writings. So Paul applies himself to reading, for the benefit to be gained from the Scriptures is no small one. But we are lazy, and we listen carelessly and indifferently. What punishment do we not deserve!

“So that your progress,” he says, “may be evident to all.” In this way he wants him to appear great and admirable in this respect too, showing that this was still necessary for him. For he wanted his “progress to be evident” not only in his life, but also in the word of teaching. [f]

Chapter 5, verse 1: “Do not rebuke an elder.” Is he speaking now of the office of elder? I think not, but of any older man. What then, if he needs correcting? Do not rebuke him, but speak to him as you would to a father who has done wrong.

Verses 1 and 2: “The older women as mothers, the younger men as brothers; the younger women as sisters, with all purity.” Rebuke is offensive by its very nature, especially when it is aimed at an old man; and when it comes from a young man as well, it looks three times as presumptuous. So he would soften it by the manner and the mildness of it. For it is possible to correct someone without giving offense, if only one makes a point of it. It takes great discretion, but it can be done.

“The younger men as brothers.” Why does he advise this too here? Because of the high spirit natural to young men; so it is right to soften a rebuke to them as well, with restraint. [g]

“The younger women as sisters,” and he adds, “with all purity.” Do not tell me, he means, merely of avoiding sexual sin with them; there should not be so much as a suspicion. For familiarity with young women always invites suspicion, and yet a bishop cannot always avoid it. So by adding these words he shows that “all purity” is required in such dealings. But does Paul give this advice to Timothy? “Yes,” he says, “for through him I am speaking to the whole world.” But if Timothy was advised in this way, let others consider what kind of conduct is required of them, so that they give no ground for suspicion, not even the shadow of an excuse, to those who want to slander them.

Verse 3: “Honor widows who are truly widows.” Why does he say nothing about virginity, and give no command to honor virgins? Perhaps there were not yet any who had taken up that state, or they may have fallen from it. “For some,” he says, “have already turned aside after Satan” (First Timothy 5, verse 15). For a woman may have lost her husband and still not truly be a widow. To be a virgin it is not enough to have nothing to do with marriage; many other things are needed as well, such as blamelessness and perseverance. In the same way, the loss of a husband does not make a widow, but endurance, with chastity and separation from all men. Such widows he rightly bids us honor, or rather support. For they need support, left alone as they are, with no husband to stand up for them. To most people their condition looks contemptible and ill-omened. That is why he wants them to receive all the more honor from the priest, and all the more because they are worthy of it.

Verse 4: “But if any widow has children or grandchildren, let them learn first to show devotion at home, and to repay their parents.” Notice Paul’s good sense, and how often he urges people by human considerations. For here he does not set out any great and lofty motive, but one that is easy to understand: “to repay their parents.” How? For bringing them up and educating them. It is as though he said: “You received great care from them. They are gone, and you cannot repay them, for you did not give birth to them or bring them up. Repay them in their descendants; pay the debt through the children.” “Let them learn first to show devotion at home.” Here he urges them more simply to acts of kindness. Then, to stir them all the more, he adds, “For that is good and acceptable before God.” And since he had spoken of “those who are truly widows,” he now declares who is truly a widow. [h]

Verses 5 and 6: “Now she who is truly a widow, and left alone, trusts in God, and continues in petitions and prayers night and day. But she who lives in pleasure is dead while she lives.”

The woman who, left a widow, has not chosen a worldly life is truly a widow. The woman who trusts in God as she ought, and keeps on in prayer night and day, is truly a widow. That is not to say that the woman who has children is not truly a widow, for he commends the one who brings up her children as she ought. But if a woman has no children, he means, she is left alone; and he comforts her, saying that she is most truly a widow, since she has lost not only the comfort of a husband but also the comfort that comes from children; yet she has God in place of them all. She is no worse off for having no children, for God fills up what she lacks with comfort, since she is without children. What he says amounts to this: “Do not grieve when you hear it said that a widow ought to bring up children, as though your worth were lower because you have no children. You are truly a widow, whereas she who lives in pleasure is dead while she lives.”

But many who have children choose widowhood, not to cut off the occasions of a worldly life but rather to increase them, so that they may do as they please with greater license and indulge their worldly cravings more freely. That is why he says, “She who lives in pleasure is dead while she lives.” Should a widow live in pleasure, then? Certainly not. And if a life of pleasure is not allowed even where nature and age are weak, but leads to death, eternal death, what do men have to say who live a life of pleasure?

He is right to say, “She who lives in pleasure is dead while she lives.” So that you may see this, let us look now at the state of the dead and the state of the living, and see where we should place such a person. The living do the works of life — of that future life, which is truly life. And Christ has declared what the works of that future life are, with which we ought always to be occupied: “Come, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry, and you gave me food; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink” (Matthew 25, verses 34 and 35). The living differ from the dead not only in seeing the sun and breathing the air, but in doing some good. For if this is missing, the living are no better than the dead. So that you may learn this, hear how it is possible for even the dead to live. For it is said, “God is not the God of the dead, but of the living” (Matthew 22, verse 32). “But that is another riddle.” Then let us solve them both.

A man who lives in pleasure is dead while he lives. For he lives only for his belly; in his other senses he does not live. He does not see what he ought to see, he does not hear what he ought to hear, he does not speak what he ought to speak. Nor does he do the works of the living. A man stretched out on a bed with his eyes shut and his eyelids closed tight notices nothing of what is going on; so it is with this man — or rather not so, but worse. For the man on the bed is equally unaware of good things and evil ones, but this man is aware of evil things only, and as unaware as the other of good ones. So he is dead. For nothing that belongs to the life to come moves or touches him.

For lack of self-control takes him into its own bosom, as into some dark and dismal cave full of every kind of filth, and makes him live wholly in darkness, like the dead. For when all his time is spent between feasting and drinking, is he not dead, and buried in darkness? Even in the morning, when he seems to be sober, he is not really sober, since he has not yet rid and cleansed himself of yesterday’s excess and is already longing to repeat it. His evening and his midday he spends in revels, and all the night and most of the morning in deep sleep.

Is such a man, then, to be counted among the living? Who can describe the storm that comes from luxury and assails his soul and body? A sky that is always clouded does not let the rays of the sun shine through. In the same way the fumes of luxury and wine wrap around his brain as though it were some rock, cast a thick mist over it, and do not let reason work, but spread deep darkness over the drunken man. How great the storm within must be for someone in this state, how violent the uproar!

When a flood has risen and poured over the doorways of the workshops, we see everyone inside in confusion, using tubs and pitchers and sponges and many other devices to bail it out, so that it will not undermine the building and ruin everything in it. So it is when luxury floods the soul: its reasonings within are thrown into confusion. What has already collected cannot be drained off, and as more pours in, a violent storm arises. Do not look at the cheerful, merry face; examine what is inside, and you will see it full of deep dejection.

If it were possible to bring the soul into view and see it with our bodily eyes, the soul of the luxurious would look downcast, mournful, miserable, and wasted to thinness. For the sleeker and fatter the body grows, the thinner and weaker the soul becomes; the more the one is pampered, the more the other is hampered. When the outer coverings over the pupil of the eye are too thick, it cannot exercise its power of sight and look out, because the thick covering shuts out the light, and darkness often follows. In the same way, when the body is constantly overfed, the soul is bound to be wrapped in grossness.

“But the dead rot and decay, and an unwholesome fluid oozes from them.” So too in her “who lives in pleasure” you may see runny discharges, phlegm, congestion, hiccups, vomiting, belching and the like, which I refrain from naming because they are too indecent. For such is the power of luxury that it makes people put up with things we do not even think it proper to mention.

“But how is the body falling apart while it still eats and drinks?” Surely this is no sign of human life, since animals without reason also eat and drink. Where the soul lies dead, what good are eating and drinking? A dead body dressed in a flowered garment gains nothing from it; and when a blooming body clothes a dead soul, the soul gains nothing either. When all its talk is of cooks and caterers and pastry makers, and it utters nothing godly, is it not dead? [i]

For let us consider: what is a man? The pagans say that he is a rational animal, mortal, capable of understanding and knowledge. But let us not take our definition from them. From where, then? From the sacred writings. Where has Scripture given a definition of man? Hear its words: “There was a man, perfect and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil” (Job 1, verse 1). This was a man indeed! Again, another says, “Man is a great thing, and a merciful man is precious” (Proverbs 20, verse 6, in the Greek Old Testament). Those who do not answer to this description, even though they have a mind and are ever so capable of knowledge, Scripture refuses to recognize as men. It calls them dogs and horses and snakes and foxes and wolves, and any animal more contemptible still, if there is one. If this is what a man is, then the one who lives in pleasure is not a man; for how can he be, when he never thinks of anything he ought? Luxury and sobriety cannot exist together; they destroy each other. Even the pagans say, “A heavy belly does not bear a subtle mind.”

Such people Scripture calls men without souls. “My Spirit,” it says, “will not always remain in these men, because they are flesh” (Genesis 6, verse 3, in the Greek Old Testament). Yet they had a soul; but because it was dead in them, he calls them flesh. For just as we say of the virtuous, though they have a body, “He is all soul, he is all spirit,” so the opposite is said of those who are the opposite. So Paul too said of those who did not carry out the works of the flesh, “You are not in the flesh” (Romans 8, verse 9). In the same way, those who live in luxury are not in the soul or in the spirit. [l]

“She who lives in pleasure is dead while she lives.” Listen to this, you women who spend your time in revels and lack of self-control, and neglect the poor, who are wasting away and dying of hunger, while you destroy yourselves with continual luxury. In this way you cause two deaths: the death of those dying of want, and your own, both from a lack of measure. But if out of your plenty you eased their want, you would save two lives. Why do you gorge your own body with excess, and waste away the body of the poor with want? Why pamper the one beyond measure, and starve the other beyond measure too?

Consider what comes of food, what it turns into. Are you not disgusted even to hear it named? Why, then, be so eager to pile it up? The increase of luxury is nothing but the multiplication of dung! For nature has its limits, and whatever goes beyond them is not nourishment but injury, and more excrement. Nourish the body, but do not destroy it. Food is called nourishment to show that it is meant not to harm the body but to nourish it. Perhaps it is for this very reason that food turns into excrement: so that we will not be lovers of luxury. For if it were not so — if it were not useless and harmful to the body — we would never stop devouring one another. If the belly took in as much as it pleased, digested it, and passed it all on to the body, we would see wars and battles without number. Even now, when part of our food turns into excrement, part into blood, and part into worthless, useless phlegm, we are still so given to luxury that we spend perhaps whole estates on a single meal. What would we not do if this were not where luxury ends?

The more luxuriously we live, the fouler the smells that fill us. The body is like a swollen flask, leaking on every side. The belching is enough to give a bystander a headache. The heat of fermentation inside sends up vapors as from a furnace. If bystanders suffer from it, what do you think the brain within is suffering all the time, assailed by these fumes? I say nothing of the channels of the heated and clogged blood, of those reservoirs the liver and the spleen, and of the canals by which the waste is discharged.

The drains in our streets we take care to keep open. We clean out our sewers with poles and scrapers, so that they will not get blocked or overflow. But the channels of our own bodies we do not keep clear; we block them and choke them up. And when the filth rises to the very throne of the king — I mean the brain — we pay no attention, treating it not like a worthy king but like an unclean beast. God purposely placed those unclean parts at a distance, so that we would not be offended by them. But we do not let it be so, and we spoil everything by our excess. And other evils could be mentioned. To block the sewers is to breed an epidemic. But if a stench from outside spreads disease, what disorders must that stench not cause, in both body and soul, which is shut up within the body and can find no outlet?

Some have complained, strangely enough, wondering why God ordained that we should carry a load of excrement around with us. But they themselves increase the load. God designed it this way to draw us away from luxury, and to persuade us not to fasten ourselves to the things of this world. But even so you will not be persuaded to stop your gluttony. The pleasure lasts only as far as the throat, and only as long as the meal — no, not even that long — and yet you go on indulging. Is it not true that the moment the food has passed the palate and the throat, the pleasure is over? For the sensation lies in the taste, and once that is satisfied, nausea follows, as the stomach fails to digest the food, or digests it only with great difficulty.

So it is rightly said that “she who lives in pleasure is dead while she lives.” For the luxurious soul can neither hear nor see anything. It becomes weak, low, unmanly, mean-spirited, cowardly, full of shamelessness, servility, ignorance, rage, violence and every kind of evil, and empty of the opposite virtues. That is why he says, in verse 7: “Command these things, so that they may be blameless.” He does not leave it to their choice. Command them, he says, not to live in luxury, taking it as an admitted evil; for he does not hold it lawful or allowable for the luxurious to share in the holy mysteries. “Command these things,” he says, “so that they may be blameless.” So you see that it is counted among sins. For if it were a matter of choice, then even if it were left undone we could still be blameless.

Therefore, in obedience to Paul, let us command that the luxurious widow have no place on the list of widows. For if a soldier who spends his time at the bath, at the theater, and in the busy affairs of life is judged a deserter, much more so the widows. So let us not seek our rest here, so that we may find it hereafter. Let us not live in pleasure here, so that hereafter we may enjoy true pleasure, true delight, which brings no evil with it but infinite good. May God grant that we all share in it, in Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.