Homily 1 — Second Timothy 1, verses 1 to 7

“Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God, according to the promise of life that is in Jesus Christ, to Timothy, my dearly loved son: Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.” [a]

What is his reason for writing this second letter to Timothy? He had said, “I hope to come to you shortly” (First Timothy 3, verse 14). Since this had not happened, he comforts him with a letter instead of coming to him. Timothy was grieving, perhaps, at his absence, and weighed down by the cares of governing the church, which he had now taken in hand. For even great men, when they are placed at the helm and charged with steering the church, feel the strangeness of their position and are overwhelmed, so to speak, by the waves of business. This was especially so when the good news was first being preached, when the ground was everywhere unplowed and everything was opposition and hostility. Besides this, heresies were starting up, coming from the Jewish teachers, as he showed in his former letter.

And he does not only comfort him by letter; he invites him to come to him. “Make every effort,” he says, “to come to me soon,” and, “When you come, bring the books, and above all the parchments” (Second Timothy 4, verses 9 and 13). He seems to have written this letter when his end was approaching. For he says, “I am now ready to be offered up,” and again, “At my first defense no one stood with me” (Second Timothy 4, verses 6 and 16). To set all this right, he offers comfort drawn from his own trials, and he also says, “Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God, according to the promise of life that is in Christ Jesus.”

So at the very start he lifts up his mind. He says: “Do not talk to me of the dangers here. They win us eternal life, where there is no danger, where grief and mourning flee away. For he did not make us apostles only so that we would face dangers, but so that we would even suffer and die.” And since it would be no comfort to him to list his own troubles to him, but would rather add to his grief, he begins at once by offering comfort, saying, “According to the promise of life that is in Jesus Christ.” But if it is a “promise,” do not look for it here. For “hope that is seen is not hope” (Romans 8, verse 24). [b]

Verse 2: “To Timothy, my dearly loved son.”

Not merely his “son,” but “dearly loved,” since it is possible for sons not to be loved. That is not what you are, he means; I call you not merely a son, but a “dearly loved son.” So too he calls the Galatians his children, yet at the same time he complains of them: “My little children,” he says, “for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth” (Galatians 4, verse 19). And by calling him “loved” he bears special witness to his virtue. For where love does not arise from nature, it must arise from the worth of the one loved. Those who are born of us are loved not only for their virtue but by the force of nature. But when those who belong to the faith are loved, it is for nothing but their worth — for what else could it be? And this is especially so in the case of Paul, who never acted from favoritism. Further, by calling him his “dearly loved son,” he shows that it was not because he was offended with him, or looked down on him, or condemned him, that he did not come to him.

Verse 2: “Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.” [c]

The things he prayed for him before, he calls down on him again. And notice how at the very beginning he excuses himself for not having come to him or seen him. His words “Until I come” and “Hoping to come to you shortly” had led Timothy to expect him soon. For this he excuses himself; but he does not mention at once the reason he has not come, so as not to grieve him deeply. For he was being held in prison by the emperor. But at the end of the letter, when he invited him to come to him, he told him of it. He does not plunge him into sorrow at the outset, but encourages the hope that he will see him: “Longing to see you,” and, “Make every effort to come to me soon” (Second Timothy 1, verse 4, and 4, verse 9). So he lifts him up at once, and goes on to praise him.

Verses 3 and 4: “I thank God, whom I serve from my forefathers with a pure conscience, that without ceasing I remember you in my prayers night and day, longing to see you, remembering your tears, so that I may be filled with joy.”

“I thank God,” he says, “that I remember you” — so much do I love you. It is a sign of very great love when a person takes pride in his affection because he loves so much. “I thank God,” he says, “whom I serve.” And how? “With a pure conscience,” for he had not violated his conscience. Here he is speaking of his blameless life, for everywhere he calls his life his conscience. Or else he means: because I never gave up any good I had set out to do, for any human reason, not even when I was a persecutor. That is why he says, “I received mercy because I acted ignorantly in unbelief” (First Timothy 1, verse 13), all but saying, “Do not suspect that it was done out of wickedness.” [d]

He rightly commends his own disposition, so that his love may be seen to be sincere. What he is really saying is this: “I am not false; I do not think one thing and profess another.” So too in the book of Acts we read that he was compelled to praise himself. When they slandered him as a troublemaker and an innovator, he said in his own defense, “Ananias said to me, ‘The God of our fathers has chosen you to know his will, and to see the Righteous One, and to hear the voice of his mouth. For you will be his witness to all people of what you have seen and heard’” (Acts 22, verses 14 and 15). In the same way here, so that he may not seem to have been forgetful and so get the character of a man without friendship and without conscience, he rightly praises himself, saying, “Without ceasing I remember you” — and not simply that, but “in my prayers.” That is: it is the business of my prayers, the thing I constantly keep doing. He shows this by saying, “For this I asked God night and day, longing to see you.”

Notice his burning desire, the intensity of his love. And notice again his humility: how he excuses himself to his disciples, and then shows that it was not on light or empty grounds. He had shown this before, and he gives proof of it again. “Remembering your tears.” It was natural for Timothy, when parting from him, to mourn and weep more than a child torn away from the milk and from its mother’s breast. “So that I may be filled with joy, longing to see you.” “I would not willingly have deprived myself of so great a pleasure. Even if I had been unfeeling and brutish by nature, the memory of those tears would have been enough to soften me. But that is not my character. I am one of those who serve God with a pure heart, so that many strong reasons urged me to come to you.” So Timothy had wept. And he mentions another reason, and one meant to console him.

Verse 5: “When I call to mind the sincere faith that is in you.” This is another word of praise: Timothy did not come from Gentiles or from unbelievers, but from a family that had served Christ from the first (Acts 16, verses 1 and 3). [e]

“Which lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice.” For Timothy, the account says, “was the son of a certain Jewish woman who believed.” How a Jewish woman? How a believer? Because she was not of the Gentiles, “but because of his father, who was a Greek, and the Jews who were in those parts, he took him and circumcised him.” So, as these mixtures of Jews and Gentiles took place, the law gradually began to be dissolved.

And notice in how many ways he shows that he did not look down on him. He says: “I serve God; I have a true conscience, for my part. And you have your ‘tears’ — and not your tears only, but your ‘faith’ — because you labor for the truth, because there is no deceit in you. Since, then, you show yourself worthy of love, being so affectionate and so genuine a disciple of Christ, and since I am not one of those who lack affection, but one of those who earnestly pursue the truth, what kept me from coming to you?”

“And I am convinced that it is in you as well.” [f]

From the beginning, he means, you have had this excellence: you received the sincere faith from your forefathers. The praise our ancestors earn passes to us as well, when we share in what they are praised for. Otherwise it does us no good, and rather condemns us. That is why he has said, “I am convinced that it is in you as well.” It is not a guess, he means; it is my conviction; I am fully sure of it. If, then, you have embraced the faith from no human motive, nothing will be able to shake your faith.

Verse 6: “For this reason I remind you to stir up the gift of God that is in you through the laying on of my hands.”

You see how disheartened and dejected he takes him to be. He all but says: “Do not think that I look down on you. Be sure that I do not condemn you, and that I have not forgotten you. Think, at any rate, of your mother and your grandmother. It is because I know that you have a sincere faith that I remind you.” For it takes great zeal to stir up the gift of God. As fire needs fuel, so grace needs our eagerness, if it is to stay always burning. “I remind you to stir up the gift of God that is in you through the laying on of my hands” — that is, the grace of the Spirit that you received for presiding over the church, for working miracles, and for every kind of service. For it is in our power to kindle this grace or to put it out. That is why he says elsewhere, “Do not quench the Spirit” (First Thessalonians 5, verse 19). It is quenched by laziness and carelessness, and kept alive by watchfulness and diligence. It is in you, yes; but you must make it burn more fiercely — that is, fill it with confidence, with joy and delight. Stand firm like a man.

Verse 7: “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” [g]

That is, we did not receive the Spirit so that we would shrink from effort, but so that we might speak with boldness. For to many he gives a spirit of fear, as we read of the wars of the kings: “A spirit of fear fell upon them” (Exodus 15, verse 16). That is, he struck terror into them. But to you he has given the opposite: a spirit of power, and of love toward himself. This, then, comes from grace — and yet not from grace alone, but once we have first done our own part. For the Spirit who makes us cry, “Abba, Father,” fills us with love both toward him and toward our neighbor, so that we love one another. For love springs from power and from not being afraid. For nothing breaks love apart so readily as fear and the suspicion of betrayal.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” By a sound mind he means a healthy state of the soul. Or it may mean soberness of mind, or else a sobering of the mind: that we may be sober-minded, and that if any evil befalls us, it may sober us and cut away what is excessive.

So let us not be distressed at the evils that happen to us. This is soberness of mind. “In the time of trial,” it says, “do not be hasty” (Sirach 2, verse 2). Many have their own griefs at home, and we share one another’s sorrows, though not their causes. One is unhappy because of his wife, another because of his child or his household servant, another because of a friend, another because of an enemy, another because of a neighbor, another because of some loss. The causes of sorrow are many and varied, so that we can find no one free of trouble and unhappiness of one kind or another; only some have greater sorrows, and some less. So let us not lose patience, or think that we alone are unhappy. [j]

For in this mortal life there is no such thing as being free from sorrow. If not today, then tomorrow; if not tomorrow, then some later day, trouble comes. Just as no one can sail — over a long sea, I mean — without feeling uneasy, so no one can pass through this life without the experience of sorrow. Not even if you name a rich man: in the very fact that he is rich, he has many occasions for unruly desires. Not even if you name the king himself: he too is ruled by many, and cannot do all that he would like. He grants many favors against his wishes, and more than anyone else he is obliged to do what he does not want to do. How so? Because he has many people around him who want to receive his gifts. Just think how great his frustration is when he wants to carry something out and cannot, whether from fear or from suspicion, or because enemies or friends stand in his way. And often, when he has managed to achieve some end, he loses all the pleasure of it, because many have become his enemies over it.

Again, do you think that those who live a life of ease are free from grief? It is impossible. As a person cannot escape death, neither can he escape sorrow. How many troubles they must endure that we cannot put into words, and that only they know by experience! How many have prayed a thousand times to die, in the middle of their wealth and luxury! For luxury by no means puts people beyond the reach of grief. It is rather the very thing that produces sorrows, diseases, and uneasiness, often when there is no real ground for it. When the soul has that habit, it is apt to grieve even without a cause. Physicians say that sorrows with no occasion at all arise from a weak stomach. And does not the same thing happen to us, that we feel uneasy without knowing any cause for it?

In short, we can find no one who is free from sorrow. And even if someone has less reason for grief than we do, he does not think so, because he feels his own sorrows more than other people’s. It is like those who suffer pain in some part of the body: each thinks his suffering is worse than his neighbor’s. The man with a disease of the eye thinks nothing is so painful; the man with a disorder of the stomach considers that the worst of diseases; and each thinks the affliction he has himself is the heaviest of sufferings. So it is with sorrow: each thinks his own present grief the most severe, for he judges it by his own experience.

The childless man thinks nothing is as sad as having no children; the poor man with many children complains of the great evils of a large family. The man who has only one child looks on this as the greatest misery, because that one child, prized too highly and never corrected, becomes willful and brings grief on his father. The man with a beautiful wife thinks nothing is as bad as having a beautiful wife, because it gives rise to jealousy and intrigue. The man with an ugly one thinks nothing is worse than having a plain wife, because it is a constant displeasure. The private citizen thinks nothing is lower or more useless than his kind of life. The soldier declares that nothing is more exhausting or more dangerous than war, and that it would be better to live on bread and water than to endure such hardships. The man in power thinks there can be no greater burden than looking after other people’s needs. The man under that power thinks nothing is more slavish than living at the beck and call of others. The married man considers nothing worse than a wife and the cares of marriage. The unmarried man declares that nothing is as wretched as being unmarried and lacking the rest a home gives. The merchant thinks the farmer happy in his safety; the farmer thinks the merchant happy in his wealth.

In short, the whole human race is somehow hard to please, discontented and impatient. Condemning the whole race, the psalmist says, “A human being is a thing of nothing” (Psalm 144, verse 4), meaning that the whole kind is a wretched, unhappy creature. How many long for old age! How many think youth a happy time! So every stage of life has its own unhappiness. When we find ourselves criticized for being young, we say, “Why are we not old?” And when our hair is gray, we ask, “Where has our youth flown?” In short, the occasions of sorrow are past counting.

There is only one path by which this unevenness can be escaped: the path of virtue. Yet that too has its sorrows; only they are not unprofitable sorrows, but ones that bring gain and advantage. If someone has sinned, he washes away his sin by the heartfelt sorrow that his grief brings. Or if he has grieved in sympathy with a fallen brother, this is not without its reward. For sympathy with those in misery gives us great confidence before God.

Hear, then, what philosophy the example of Job in holy Scripture teaches! Hear also what Paul says: “Weep with those who weep,” and again, “Stoop to those of low position” (Romans 12, verses 15 and 16). For when sorrow is shared, the worst of its burden is lightened. As with a heavy load the one who takes part of the weight relieves the one who was carrying it alone, so it is in everything else. [l]

But as things are, when one of our relatives dies, many sit beside us and console us. Why, we often lift up even a donkey that has fallen; but when the souls of our brothers and sisters are falling, we overlook them and pass by, as if they were worth less than a donkey. And if we see someone going shamelessly into a tavern — or more than that, if we see him drunk, or doing anything else unseemly — we do not restrain him; instead, we join him in it. That is why Paul has said, “They not only do these things, but take pleasure in those who do them” (Romans 1, verse 32). Most people even form clubs for the sake of drinking. But you, my friend, form clubs to restrain the madness of drunkenness.

A fellowship of friends like that does good to those in chains or in distress. Paul charged the Corinthians with something of this kind; he alludes to it when he says, “So that there may be no collections when I come” (First Corinthians 16, verse 2). But now everything is done for the sake of luxury, revelry, and pleasure. We share a bench, we share a table, we share wine and share the expenses, but we share no almsgiving. That was what the fellowship of friends looked like in the apostles’ time: they brought all their goods into a common fund. Now I do not ask you to give everything, but some part. “On the first day of the week let each of you put something aside and store it up, as God has prospered him,” and set it down as a tax owed on the seven days. Give alms in this way, whether more or less. “For you shall not appear before the Lord empty-handed” (Exodus 23, verse 15). This was said to the Jews; how much more, then, to us!

This is why the poor stand at the doors: so that no one may go in empty-handed, but each may give alms as he enters. You go in to beg for mercy. Show mercy first. The one who comes second owes more; for when we have gone first, the one who comes second pays down more. Make God your debtor, and then offer your prayers. Lend to him, and then ask for a return, and you will receive it back with interest. God wants this, and he does not go back on it. If you ask with alms, he holds himself bound. If you ask with alms, you are lending and receiving interest.

Yes, I beg you! It is not for stretching out your hands that you will be heard. Stretch out your hands — not to heaven, but to the poor. If you stretch out your hand to the hands of the poor, you have reached the very top of heaven, for he who sits there receives your alms. But if you lift them up without a gift, you gain nothing. If the king, dressed in purple, came to you and asked for alms, would you not readily give him everything you have? But now, when you are begged through the poor — not by an earthly king but by a heavenly one — do you stand there unconcerned and put off your gift? What punishment do you not deserve?

Being heard does not depend on lifting up your hands, or on the number of your words, but on your works. Listen to the prophet: “When you spread out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you; even when you make many prayers, I will not hear” (Isaiah 1, verse 15). The one who needs mercy ought to be silent and not even look up to heaven; it is the one who has confidence who may say a great deal. But what does the Scripture say? “Do justice for the orphan, plead for the widow, learn to do good” (Isaiah 1, verse 17). In this way we will be heard, even if we do not lift up our hands, or say a word, or make a request. So let us be zealous for these things, so that we may obtain the promised blessings, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, and honor, now and forever. Amen.