Homilies on First Timothy 2

But the end of the commandment is love out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned;

from which some, having swerved, have turned aside unto vain talking, desiring to be teachers of the law, understanding neither what they say, nor whereof they affirm.

Nothing so ruins the race of men as to make light of friendship,

and not to pursue it aright with much diligence;

just as, again, nothing so sets things right as to pursue it after with all one's strength.

And declaring this, Christ says, 'If two shall agree together, everything, whatsoever they shall ask, they shall receive;'

and again, 'When iniquity shall abound, love shall wax cold.'

This begat all the heresies.

For from not loving their own brethren they envied those who were held in good esteem; and from envying they became lovers of rule; and from loving rule they begat heresies.

For this reason also Paul, having said, 'That you might charge certain men not to teach other doctrine,' also sets forth the manner in which this may come to pass.

What then is this? Love.

Just as, therefore, when he says, 'Christ is the end of the law,' that is, its fulfilment, and this belongs to those things, so this commandment is contained in love.

So that, where there is health, there is no need of much apparatus;

and where there is love, there is no need of much commandment.

But of what kind of love does he speak? Of the sincere, not that which reaches only as far as words, but that which comes from disposition, and mind, and fellow-feeling. 'Out of a pure heart,' he says.

He speaks either of an upright manner of life, or of genuine friendship.

For an impure life also produces schisms;

for 'every one that does evil hates the light.'

For there is a friendship even among the wicked; as robbers love robbers, and murderers love murderers;

but this is not from a good conscience, but from an evil one; nor out of a pure heart, but out of an impure one; nor of unfeigned faith, but of a counterfeit and hypocritical one.

For faith shows forth the truth;

and out of sincere faith is love begotten;

for he who truly believes in God can never endure to forsake this love.

'From which,' he says, 'some, having swerved, have turned aside unto vain talking.'

Well did he say, 'Having swerved,' (having missed the mark);

for there is need of skill, so as to cast straight, and not beside the mark.

So that one must be guided straight by the Spirit;

for there are many things that turn one aside from the straight path;

'Desiring,' he says, 'to be teachers of the law.'

Do you see yet another cause, that of the love of rule? For this reason also Christ said, 'But be ye not called Rabbi;'

and again the Apostle: 'For neither do they themselves keep the law, but that they may glory in your flesh.'

'They aim at the dignity,' he says;

for this reason they do not look toward the truth.

'Understanding neither,' he says, 'what they say, nor whereof they affirm.'

Here he reproaches them as not knowing the aim of the law, nor the season up to which it behoved it to be lord.

How then, if it is out of ignorance, do you call this a sin? Because they suffered this not merely from wishing to be teachers of the law, but also from not holding fast to love;

and besides, the ignorance itself was begotten of these things.

For when the soul gives itself over to fleshly matters, its faculty of discernment is maimed;

and having fallen away from love, it falls into contentiousness, and the eye of the understanding is maimed.

For he who is held fast by some desire of these transient things, being drunken with the passion, cannot become an incorruptible judge of the truth.

'They know not,' he says, 'whereof they affirm.'

For it was likely that they spoke about the law, and said much concerning purifications and the other bodily observances.

Then, leaving aside the reproving of those matters, as being nothing or but a shadow and outline of spiritual things—which would have been the gentler course—he does this instead.

What then is this? He praises the law, here calling 'law' the Decalogue.

And from this he cast out those other things also.

For if these very commandments punish transgressors, and become useless to us, much more do those others.

'But we know,' he says, 'that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully, knowing this, that the law is not made for a righteous man.'

'Good,' he says, and 'not good.'

'What then?' one says; 'if a man use it not lawfully, is it not good?' Even so, it is good;

but what he means is this;

namely, when one fulfils it through works;

for the phrase, 'if a man use it lawfully,' is what signifies this here.

But when men expound it by words, yet by their works transgress it, this is to use it unlawfully;

but not to one's own profit.

There is also another thing to be said besides this.

What then is this? Namely, if you use the law lawfully, it sends you on to Christ.

For when its aim is to justify the man, but it cannot do so, it sends him on to Him who is able.

And in yet another way it is possible to use the law lawfully, when you keep it out of much abundance.

And what is it to keep it 'out of abundance'? Just as, he says, it is not the horse that prances, nor the one that bites, but the one that simply wears the bridle for form's sake, that uses it in orderly fashion;

so also he uses the law lawfully who lives soberly not because of the constraint arising from the letter.

And who will use it lawfully? He who knows that he has no need of it.

For he who has advanced to such a height of virtue as to do right not through fear of it, but through virtue itself, this man uses it lawfully and safely;

if one uses it in such a way as not to fear it, but rather, though the punishment of the world to come lies before him, keeping the sense of self-condemnation before his eyes

And in another sense also he here calls 'righteous' the man who has succeeded in attaining virtue.

That man, then, uses the law rightly who does not think it worth his while to be schooled by it.

For just as the strokes of the letters are set out for children, but he who fills them out not from these strokes but from other resources would be a man versed in a greater knowledge, and uses the letters in a better way;

so likewise the man who is above the law is not held under tutelage by the law.

For he who fulfils it not out of fear but out of desire for virtue—this man above all fulfils it more perfectly.

For he who dreads punishment does not fulfil the law in the same way as he who longs for honour;

the man who is under the law is not on the same footing as the man who is above the law.

For to live above the law—this is to use it lawfully. For that man uses the law well and keeps it, who accomplishes something greater than the law, who does not deign to have it as his taskmaster.

For the law, for the most part, is a prohibition of evils;

yet this does not make a man righteous, but the working of good things does.

Therefore all who abstain from evils as slaves do not fulfil its purpose;

for it was established for this reason: that it might punish transgression.

So then those men too use it, but in the fearing of punishment.

'For do you wish,' he says, 'not to fear the authority? Do what is good;'

for only against the wicked does it pronounce its punishments;

but to him who has done deeds worthy of crowns, of what use is the law? Just as the physician is of use to one who has some wound, not to the healthy, nor to one in good condition.

'But,' he says, 'for the lawless and unruly, for the ungodly and sinners.'

He calls the Jews lawless, and the same men also unruly.

'The law,' he says, 'works wrath.'

This is directed at those who do evil.

But what has it to do with the man worthy of honour? 'Through the law,' he says, 'is the knowledge of sin.'

And what has it to do with the righteous man? 'For the righteous,' he says, 'the law is not laid down.'

Why so? Because he is beyond punishment, and because he does not wait to learn from it what must be done, having within him the grace of the Spirit that prompts him.

For the law was given that men might be chastened by fear and by threat.

There is no need, then, of a bridle for the well-broken horse, nor of tutelage for one who does not need a tutor.

'But,' he says, 'for the lawless and unruly, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers.'

And he did not stop there, nor merely at the sins in general, but went through the sins according to their kinds, so as to shame men into submitting to the law's oversight.

Then, having enumerated them by kind, he spoke also by way of omission—and indeed, even the things already mentioned were sufficient to lead men away from evil.

Concerning whom, then, does he say these things? Concerning the Jews;

for these were both murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers, and were themselves both profane and unholy;

for it is these he hints at when he says 'the ungodly and sinners.'

And since they were of this sort, the law too was of necessity given.

For tell me: did they not continually bow down to idols? Did they not stone Moses? Were not their hands full of the blood of their own kinsmen?

Do not the prophets everywhere charge them with these things? But to those who philosophize about the things in heaven, these matters are superfluous.

'For murderers of fathers,' he says, 'and murderers of mothers, for manslayers, fornicators, sodomites, kidnappers, liars, perjurers, and if there be any other thing that is contrary to sound doctrine.'

Well did he say, 'to sound doctrine.'

For all those were passions of a soul that had been corrupted.

'According to the gospel,' he says, 'of the glory of the blessed God, which was committed to my trust.'

So then, even now, for the confirmation of the gospel there is need of the law;

yet for those who obey there is no need of it.

And he calls it the gospel of glory for no other reason than because of those who are ashamed at the persecutions and at the suffering of Christ.

So then, both for these other reasons and for these very ones, he called it the gospel of glory, showing that the suffering of Christ is glory;

or he also hints at the things to come.

For if the present things are full of shame and reproaches, yet the things to come are not such;

and the gospel is of things to come, not of things present.

How then does the angel say, 'Behold, I bring you good tidings, that a Saviour has been born to you'? Because, having been born, He was about to accomplish this;

for He did not at the very moment He was born work the signs.

'According to the gospel,' he says, 'of the glory of the blessed God.'

Either he means the worship of God, or that if all present things are filled with His glory, much more the things to come;

'when His enemies,' he says, 'shall be put under His feet;'

when there is nothing opposed, when the righteous behold all those blessed things which neither eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man.

'For I will,' He says, 'that where I am, these also may be, that they may behold My glory, which Thou hast given Me.'

Let us learn, then, who these are, and let us call them blessed, considering how great the good things are that they will then enjoy, how great the glory they will share, how great the light.

For the glory here is a thing of no account and unstable;

and even if it should endure, it endures until death, and thereafter is utterly extinguished;

'For his glory,' he says, 'shall not go down after him.'

and for many it did not even endure to the end here;

but concerning that glory it is not possible to suspect anything of the kind, but altogether the contrary, that it abides, and will never have an end.

For such are the things of God: enduring, and superior to all change and to any end.

For the glory then is not from things without, but from things within;

not from costly garments, not from a multitude of attendants, not from chariots does the glory then come, but apart from these things the man himself is clothed with the glory.

For now, if these things be absent, a man will be stripped of glory; but there it is not so.

At any rate, in the baths we see men stripped naked, both the honourable and the dishonourable, and we see the base as well.

Many of those in the marketplaces, at all events, have often been in danger, when their servants had left them for some errand;

but there a man has his glory with himself everywhere.

And just as the angels, wherever they appear, have their glory in themselves, so also do the saints;

or rather, just as the sun needs no garment, needs nothing else, but as soon as it appears it flashes forth its own glory, so also will it then be.

Let us then pursue that glory, than which nothing is more worthy of reverence;

let us abandon this glory, than which nothing is more worthless.

'In the array of garments,' he says, 'do not glory.'

These things were foretold long ago to the childish.

For indeed the dancer, the harlot, and the stage-player are clothed more gracefully and more sumptuously than you.

And apart from these considerations, you glory over a thing which, once the moths fasten upon it, they rob you of its enjoyment.

Do you see how unstable a thing is the glory of the present life? You glory over a thing which worms breed and destroy;

for they say there are certain little creatures in India, whence these threads are made.

Acquire, if you will, that garment woven from above, the wondrous and radiant robe, the vesture that is truly interwoven with gold.

That gold is not from mines which the hands of condemned men have dug, but is begotten of virtue.

Let us clothe ourselves in that robe which is not fashioned by poor men and slaves, but by the Master Himself.

But you will say that gold is sprinkled upon this garment. And what is that to you? For it is the maker whom all admire, not the wearer;

for the wonder truly belongs to him.

For just as with plain garments we do not admire the frame on which the garment is stretched at the fuller's, but the workman, although the wood bears them and they are bound to the wood;

so, just as those things are not bound to it for its own sake, neither are these women adorned for their own sake, but for the sake of the garment—that it may be shaken out, he says, and not be consumed by the moth.

How then is this not the utmost folly—to take such great pains for the sake of nothing, to contrive every device, to betray one's own salvation, to despise hell, to insult God, and to overlook Christ when He is hungry? What should one say of the extravagance of perfumes—the Indian, the Arabian, the Persian?

the dry and the liquid, the myrrhs, the incenses—all of which involve much and senseless expense? Why do you perfume your body, O woman, when within it is full of uncleanness? Why do you lavish expense upon what is foul, and do the same as one who should pour perfume upon mire, or drench a brick with balsam? There is, if you will, a perfume, there is a fragrance with which you can anoint the soul—not from Arabia, nor from Ethiopia, nor from Persia, but borne from heaven itself, sold not for gold but for a good purpose and unfeigned faith.

Buy this perfume, whose fragrance can fill the whole world;

of this the apostles breathed forth the odor;

'For we are,' he says, 'a sweet savor of a good fragrance, to some unto death, but to others unto life.'

What then does this mean? That even a swine is said to be choked to death by fragrance.

And not the body only of the apostles, but even their garments breathed forth the spiritual perfume.

For so sweetly did the garments of Paul breathe that they drove out demons.

What leaf, what cassia, what myrrh is not both sweeter and more useful than this fragrance? For if it drove out demons, what else could it not accomplish? Let us prepare this perfume;

and the spiritual grace prepares it through almsgiving.

Of this we shall breathe forth even when we have departed thither, and shall turn the saints toward ourselves;

and just as here those who are steeped in fragrances draw all people to themselves—whether he who breathes this forth goes into a bath-house, or into a church, or into some other crowded place, all cling to him and all turn toward him—

so also in that world, when the souls that breathe forth the spiritual fragrance enter in, all give place and yield before them.

And here too both demons and all forms of wickedness dare not approach, nor can they endure it;

let us therefore put on that fragrance.

For the one [worldly perfume] invests us with a reputation of effeminacy, but the other with one of manliness and of true wonder;

and it also affords us much boldness of speech.

This fragrance the earth does not yield up, but virtue begets it; it does not wither, but flourishes;

this makes precious those who possess it.

With this we are anointed when we are baptized;

but that we should thereafter also breathe it forth belongs to our own diligence.

For this reason of old the priests were anointed with perfume, giving thereby a symbol of virtue, since a priest ought to breathe forth a sweet odor.

But there is nothing more foul-smelling than sin.

See how the prophet describes its nature.

'My wounds stink and are corrupt.'

For truly sin is worse than putrefaction and more foul-smelling.

For what, tell me, is more foul-smelling than fornication? And if you do not perceive it while committing it, consider for me what the sin is after the act is done, and then you will see its stench, then the uncleanness that clings to it, then the pollution, then the abomination.

Before it is committed it has a certain pleasure, but after it is accomplished the sweetness ceases and withers, while what is painful and gloomy remains.

But righteousness is the opposite;

at the beginning it has its toils, but toward the end it has pleasure and rest.

Nor, indeed, in the former case does pleasure become pleasure, because of the expectation of shame and of punishment;

and here again, in the latter case, neither is the toil a toil, because of the hope of the recompense.

What then of drunkenness, tell me? Does it not have its pleasure only in the drinking? Or rather, not even in the drinking.

For when a man falls into insensibility and sees none of those present, but is worse disposed than madmen, what pleasure is there any longer? Or rather, not even in fornication itself is there any pleasure.

For when the soul, held fast by passion, is deprived of its judgment, what pleasure is this? And if this be pleasure, then the itch of scabies is also pleasure.

But that I would call true pleasure, when the soul is not stretched taut in passion, torn asunder by the body.

For what pleasure is this—to grind the teeth, to distort the eyes, to be tickled and heated beyond what is fitting? And that this is not pleasure is shown by the fact that we hasten to be quickly rid of it, and once rid of it we feel pain.

If it is pleasure, do not be rid of it, but remain in the pleasure.

Do you see that it is a pleasure in name only? But the things with us are not such; they are truly sweet, not having their pleasure joined with fire, but leaving the soul free, and gladdening it and pouring it forth in joy.

Such was the pleasure of Paul when he said, 'In this I rejoice, yea, and will rejoice;'

and, 'Rejoice in the Lord always.'

For the former has both shame and condemnation; the former is done in secret, and is filled with countless disgusts;

but the latter is delivered from all these.

Let us therefore pursue this, that we may attain the good things to come, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honor, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.