THE FIRST EPISTLE TO TIMOTHY.
CHAPTER II.
TIMOTHY THE BELOVED DISCIPLE OF ST. PAUL.
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER.
“Timothy, my true child in faith.”—1 Tim. i. 2.
“Timothy, my beloved child.”—2 Tim. i. 2.
In the relation of St. Paul to Timothy we have one
of those beautiful friendships between an older and
a younger man which are commonly so helpful to both.
It is in such cases, rather than where the friends are
equals in age, that each can be the real complement of
the other. Each by his abundance can supply the
other’s want, whereas men of equal age would have
common wants and common supplies. In this respect
the friendship between St. Paul and Timothy reminds
us of that between St. Peter and St. John. In each
case the friend who took the lead was much older than
the other; and (what is less in harmony with ordinary
experience) in each case it was the older friend who
had the impulse and the enthusiasm, the younger who
had the reflectiveness and the reserve. These latter
qualities are perhaps less marked in St. Timothy than
in St. John, but nevertheless they are there, and they
are among the leading traits of his character. St. Paul
leans on him while he guides him, and relies upon his
thoughtfulness and circumspection in cases requiring
firmness, delicacy, and tact. Of the affection with
which he regarded Timothy we have evidence in the
whole tone of the two letters to him. In the sphere of
faith Timothy is his “own true child” (not merely
adopted, still less supposititious), and his “beloved
child.” St. Paul tells the Corinthians that as the best
means of making them imitators of himself he has sent
unto them “Timothy, who is my beloved and faithful
child in the Lord, who shall put you in remembrance
of my ways which be in Christ, even as I teach everywhere
in every Church” (1 Cor. iv. 17). And a few
years later he tells the Philippians that he hopes to
send Timothy shortly unto them, that he may know
how they fare. For he has no one like him, who will
have a genuine anxiety about their welfare. The rest
care only for their own interests. “But the proof of
him ye know, that, as a child a father, so he slaved
with me for the Gospel” (ii. 22). Of all whom he ever
converted to the faith Timothy seems to have been to
St. Paul the disciple who was most beloved and most
trusted. Following the example of the fourth Evangelist,
Timothy might have called himself “The disciple
whom Paul loved.” He shared his spiritual father’s
outward labours and most intimate thoughts. He was
with him when the Apostle could not or would not
have the companionship of others. He was sent on
the most delicate and confidential missions. He had
charge of the most important congregations. When
the Apostle was in his last and almost lonely imprisonment
it was Timothy whom he summoned to console
him and receive his last injunctions.
There is another point in which the beloved disciple
of the Pastoral Epistles resembles the beloved disciple
of the Fourth Gospel. We are apt to think of both of
them as always young. Christian art nearly invariably
represents St. John as a man of youthful and almost
feminine appearance. And, although in Timothy’s
case, painters and sculptors have not done much to
influence our imagination, yet the picture which we
form for ourselves of him is very similar to that which
we commonly receive of St. John. With strange logic
this has actually been made an argument against the
authenticity of the Pastoral Epistles. Myth, we are
told, has given to this Christian Achilles the attributes
of eternal youth. Timothy was a lad of about fifteen
when St. Paul converted him at Lystra, in or near
A.D. 45; and he was probably not yet thirty-five when
St. Paul wrote the First Epistle to him. Even if he
had been much older there would be nothing surprising
in the tone of St. Paul’s letters to him. It is one of the
commonest experiences to find elderly parents speaking
of their middle-aged children as if they were still boys
and girls. This trait, as being so entirely natural,
ought to count as a touch beyond the reach of a forger
rather than as a circumstance that ought to rouse our
suspicions, in the letters of “Paul the
aged”“Paul an ambassador, and now also a prisoner of Jesus Christ”
is probably right in Philemon; but even there “Paul the aged” would
be true.
to a
friend who was thirty years younger than himself.
Once more, the notices of Timothy which have come
down to us, like those which we have respecting the
beloved disciple, are very fragmentary; but they form
a beautiful and consistent sketch of one whose full
portrait we long to possess.
Timothy was a native, possibly of Derbe, but more
probably of the neighbouring town of Lystra, where he
was piously brought up in a knowledge of the Jewish
Scriptures by his grandmother Lois and his mother
Eunice. It was probably during St Paul’s first visit to
Lystra, on his first missionary journey, that he became
the boy’s spiritual father, by converting him to the
Christian faith. It was at Lystra that the Apostle was
stoned by the mob and dragged outside the city as
dead: and there is no improbability in the suggestion
that, when he recovered consciousness and re-entered
the town, it was in the home of Timothy that he found
shelter. In any case Lystra was to the Apostle a
place of strangely mixed associations; the brutality of
the pagan multitude side by side with the tender
friendship of the young Timothy. When St. Paul on
his next missionary journey again visited Lystra he
found Timothy already enjoying a good report among
the Christians of that place and of Iconium for his
zeal and devotion during the six or seven years which
had elapsed since his first visit. Perhaps he had been
engaged in missionary work in both places. The
voices of the prophets had singled him out as one
worthy of bearing office in the Church; and the Apostle,
still grieving over the departure of Barnabas with John
Mark, recognized in him one who with Silas could fill
the double vacancy. The conduct of the Apostle of the
Gentiles on this occasion has sometimes excited surprise.
Previously to the ordination, Paul, the great
proclaimer of the abrogation of the Law by the Gospel,
circumcised the young evangelist. The inconsistency
is more apparent than real. It was an instance of his
becoming “all things to all men” for the salvation of
souls, and of his sacrificing his own convictions in
matters that were not essential, rather than cause
others to offend. Timothy’s father had been a Gentile,
and the son, though brought up in his mother’s faith,
had never been circumcised. To St. Paul circumcision
was a worthless rite. The question was, whether it
was a harmless one. This depended upon circumstances.
If, as among the Galatians, it caused people
to rely upon the Law and neglect the Gospel, it was a
superstitious obstacle with which no compromise could
be made. But if it was a passport whereby preachers,
who would otherwise be excluded, might gain access to
Jewish congregations, then it was not only a harmless
but a useful ceremony. In the synagogue Timothy as
an uncircumcised Jew would have been an intolerable
abomination, and would never have obtained a hearing.
To free him from this crippling disadvantage, St. Paul
subjected him to a rite which he himself knew to be
obsolete. Then followed the ordination, performed
with great solemnity by the laying on of the hands of
all the elders of the congregation: and the newly
ordained Evangelist forthwith set out to accompany
Paul and Silas in their labours for the Gospel.
Wherever they went they distributed copies of the
decrees of the Apostolic Council at Jerusalem, which
declared circumcision to be unnecessary for Gentiles.
Their true position with regard to circumcision was
thus made abundantly evident. For the sake of others
they had abstained from availing themselves of the very
liberty which they proclaimed.
In the Troad they met Luke the beloved physician
(as indicated by the sudden use of the first person
plural in the Acts), and took him on with them to
Philippi. Here probably, as certainly afterwards at
Berœa, Timothy was left behind by Paul and Silas to
consolidate their work. He rejoined the Apostle at
Athens, but was thence sent back on a mission to
Thessalonica, and on his return found St. Paul at
Corinth. The two Epistles written from Corinth to
the Thessalonians are in the joint names of Paul and
Timothy. At Corinth, as at Lystra, Iconium, and
Philippi, Timothy became prominent for his zeal as an
evangelist; and then for about five years we lose sight
of him. We may think of him as generally at the side
of St. Paul, and as always working with him; but of
the details of the work we are ignorant. About A.D.
57 he was sent by St. Paul on a delicate mission to
Corinth. This was before 1 Corinthians was written;
for in that letter St. Paul states that he has sent
Timothy to Corinth, but writes as if he expected that
the letter would reach Corinth before him. He charges
the Corinthians not to aggravate the young evangelist’s
natural timidity, and not to let his youth prejudice
them against him. When St. Paul wrote 2 Corinthians
from Macedonia later in the year, Timothy was again
with him, for his name is coupled with Paul’s: and he
is still with him when the Apostle wrote to the Romans
from Corinth, for he joins in sending salutations to the
Roman Christians. We find him still at St. Paul’s
side on his way back to Jerusalem through Philippi,
the Troad, Tyre, and Cæsarea. And here we once
more lose trace of him for some years. We do not
know what he was doing during St. Paul’s two years’
imprisonment at Cæsarea; but he joined him during
the first imprisonment at Rome, for the Epistles to the
Philippians, the Colossians, and Philemon are written
in the names of Paul and Timothy. From the passage
already quoted from Philippians we may conjecture
that Timothy went to Philippi and returned again
before the Apostle was released. At the close of the
Epistle to the Hebrews we read, “Know ye that our
brother Timothy hath been set at liberty.” It is
possible that the imprisonment to which this notice
refers was contemporaneous with the first imprisonment
of St. Paul, and that it is again referred to in 1 Timothy
(vi. 12) as “the good confession” which he “confessed
in the sight of many witnesses.”
The few additional facts respecting Timothy are
given us in the two letters to him. Some time after
St. Paul’s release the two were together in Ephesus;
and when the Apostle went on into Macedonia he left
his companion behind him to warn and exhort certain
holders of erroneous doctrine to desist from teaching
it. There were tears, on the younger friend’s side at
any rate, to which St. Paul alludes at the opening of
the Second Epistle; and they were natural enough.
The task imposed upon Timothy was no easy one; and
after the dangers and sufferings to which the Apostle
had been exposed, and which his increasing infirmities
continually augmented, it was only too possible that
the friends would never meet again. So far as we
know, these gloomy apprehensions may have been
realized. In his first letter, written from Macedonia,
St. Paul expresses a hope of returning very soon to
Timothy; but, like some other hopes expressed in St.
Paul’s Epistles, it was perhaps never fulfilled. The
second letter, written from Rome, contains no allusion
to any intermediate meeting. In this second letter he
twice implores Timothy to do all he can to come to him
without delay, for he is left almost alone in his imprisonment.
But whether Timothy was able to comply with
this wish we have no means of knowing. We like to
think of the beloved disciple as comforting the last
hours of his master; but, although the conjecture may
be a right one, we must remember that it is conjecture
and no more. With the Second Epistle to him ends
all that we really know of Timothy. Tradition and
ingenious guesswork add a little more which can be
neither proved nor disproved. More than two hundred
years after his death, Eusebius tells us that he is
related to have held the office of overseer of the diocese
of Ephesus; and five centuries later Nicephorus tells
us, that he was beaten to death by the Ephesian mob
for protesting against the licentiousness of their worship
of Artemis. It has been conjectured that Timothy may
be the “Angel” of the Church of Ephesus, who is
partly praised and partly blamed in the Apocalypse, and
parallels have been drawn between the words of blame
in Rev. ii. 4, 5, and the uneasiness which seems to
underlie one or two passages in the Second Epistle to
Timothy. But the resemblances are too slight to be
relied upon. All we can say is, that even if the later
date be taken for the Apocalypse, Timothy may have
been overseer of the Church of Ephesus at the time
when the book was written.
But of all the scattered memorials that have come
down to us respecting this beautiful friendship between
the great Apostle and his chief disciple, the two letters
of the older friend to the younger are by far the chief.
And there is so much in them that fits with exquisite
nicety into the known conditions of the case, that it is
hard to imagine how any forger of the second century
could so have thrown himself into the situation. Where
else in that age have we evidence of any such literary
and historical skill? The tenderness and affection, the
anxiety and sadness, the tact and discretion, the strength
and large-mindedness of St. Paul are all there; and
his relation to his younger but much-trusted disciple
is quite naturally sustained throughout. Against this it
is not much to urge that there are some forty words
and phrases in these Epistles which do not occur in the
other Epistles of St. Paul. The explanation of that fact
is easy. Partly they are words which in his other
Epistles he had no need to use; partly they are words
which the circumstances of these later letters suggested
to him, and which those of the earlier letters did not.
The vocabulary of every man of active mind who reads
and mixes with other men, especially if he travels much,
is perpetually changing. He comes across new metaphors,
new figures of speech, remembers them, and
uses them. The reading of such a work as Darwin’s
Origin of Species gives a man command of a new
sphere of thought and expression. The conversation
of such a man as “Luke the beloved physician” would
have a similar effect on St. Paul. We shall never know
the minds or the circumstances which suggested to him
the language which has now become our own possession;
and it is unreasonable to suppose that the process
of assimilation came to a dead stop in the Apostle’s
mind when he finished the Epistles of the first imprisonment.
The result, therefore, of this brief survey of the
life of Timothy is to confirm rather than to shake our
belief that the letters which are addressed to him were
really written by his friend St. Paul.
The friendship between these two men of different
gifts and very different ages is full of interest. It is
difficult to estimate which of the two friends gained
most from the affection and devotion of the other. No
doubt Timothy’s debt to St. Paul was immense: and
which of us would not think himself amply paid for any
amount of service and sacrifice, in having the privilege
of being the chosen friend of such a man as St. Paul?
But on the other hand, few men could have supplied
the Apostle’s peculiar needs as Timothy did. That
intense craving for sympathy which breathes so strongly
throughout the writings of St. Paul, found its chief
human satisfaction in Timothy. To be alone in a
crowd is a trial to most men; and few men have felt
the oppressiveness of it more keenly than St. Paul. To
have some one, therefore, who loved and reverenced
him, who knew his “ways” and could impress them on
others, who cared for those for whom Paul cared and
was ever willing to minister to them as his friend’s
missioner and delegate—all this and much more was
inexpressibly comforting to St. Paul. It gave him
strength in his weaknesses, hope in his many disappointments,
and solid help in his daily burden of
“anxiety for all the Churches.” Specially consoling
was the clinging affection of his young friend at those
times when the Apostle was suffering from the coldness
and neglect of others. At the time of his first imprisonment
the respect or curiosity of the Roman Christians
had moved many of them to come out thirty miles to
meet him on his journey from Cæsarea to Rome; yet
as soon as he was safely lodged in the house of his
gaoler they almost ceased to minister to him. But the
faithful disciple seems to have been ever at his side.
And when the Romans treated Paul with similar indifference
during his second imprisonment, it was this
same disciple that he earnestly besought to come with
all speed to comfort him. It was not merely that he
loved and trusted Timothy as one upon whose devotion
and discretion he could always rely: but Timothy was
the one among his many disciples who had sacrificed
everything for St. Paul and his Master. He had left a
loving mother and a pleasant home in order to share
with the Apostle a task which involved ceaseless labour,
untold anxiety, not a little shame and obloquy, and at
times even danger to life and limb. When he might
have continued to live on as the favourite of his family,
enjoying the respect of the presbyters and prophets of
Lycaonia, he chose to wander abroad with the man to
whom, humanly speaking, he owed his salvation, “in
journeyings often,” in perils of every kind from the
powers of nature, and from the violence or treachery
of man, and in all those countless afflictions and necessities,
of which St. Paul gives us such a touching summary
in the second letter to the Corinthians. All this
St. Paul knew, and he knew the value of it to himself
and the Church; and hence the warm affection with
which the Apostle always speaks of him and to him.
But what did not Timothy owe to his friend, his
father in the faith, old enough to be his father in the
flesh? Not merely his conversion and his building
up in Christian doctrine, though that was much, and
the chief item of his debt. But St. Paul had tenderly
watched over him among the difficulties to which a
person of his temperament would be specially exposed.
Timothy was young, enthusiastic, sensitive, and at
times showed signs of timidity. If his enthusiasm were
not met with a generous sympathy, there was danger
lest the sensitive nature would shrivel up on contact
with an unfeeling world, and the enthusiasm driven in
upon itself would be soured into a resentful cynicism.
St. Paul not only himself gave to his young disciple the
sympathy that he needed; he encouraged others also
to do the same. “Now if Timothy come,” he writes to
the Corinthians, “see that he be with you without fear;
for he worketh the work of the Lord, as I also do: let
no man therefore despise him.” He warned these
factious and fastidious Greeks against chilling the
generous impulses of a youthful evangelist by their
sarcastic criticisms. Timothy might be wanting in the
brilliant gifts which Corinthians adored: in knowledge
of the world, in address, in oratory. But he was real.
He was working God’s work with a single heart and
with genuine fervour. It would be a cruel thing to mar
that simplicity or quench that fervour, and thus turn a
genuine enthusiast into a cold-blooded man of the
world. On their treatment of him might depend
whether he raised them to his own zeal for Christ, or
they dragged him down to the level of their own
paralysing superciliousness.
The dangers from which St. Paul thus generously
endeavoured to shield Timothy, are those which beset
many an ardent spirit, especially in England at the
present day. Everywhere there is a cynical disbelief in
human nature and a cold contempt for all noble impulses,
which throw a damp and chilling atmosphere
over society. At school and at the university, in
family life and in domestic service, young men and
young women are encouraged to believe that there is
no such thing as unselfishness or holiness, and that
enthusiasm is always either silly or hypocritical. By
sarcastic jests and contemptuous smiles they are taught
the fatal lesson of speaking slightingly, and at last of
thinking slightingly, of their own best feelings. To be
dutiful and affectionate is supposed to be childish,
while reverence and trust are regarded as mere ignorance
of the world. The mischief is a grave one, for it
poisons life at its very springs. Every young man
and woman at times has aspirations which at first are
only romantic and sentimental, and as such are neither
right nor wrong. But they are nature’s material for
higher and better things. They are capable of being
developed into a zeal for God and for man, such as will
ennoble the characters of all who come under its
influence. The sentimentalist may become an enthusiast,
and the enthusiast a hero or a saint. Woe to
him who gives to such precious material a wrong turn,
and by offering cynicism instead of sympathy turns all
its freshness sour. The loss does not end with the
blight of an exuberant and earnest character. There
are huge masses of evil in the world, which seem to
defy the good influences that from time to time are
brought to bear upon them. Humanly speaking, there
seems to be only one hope of overcoming these strongholds
of Satan,—and that is by the combined efforts of
many enthusiasts. “This is the victory which overcometh
the world, even our faith.” It will be a grievous
prospect for mankind, if faith in God, in ourselves, and
in our fellow-men becomes so unfashionable as to be
impossible. And this is the faith which makes enthusiasts.
If we have not this faith ourselves, we can at
least respect it in others. If we cannot play the part
of Timothy, and go forth with glowing hearts to whatever
difficult and distasteful work may be placed before
us, we can at least avoid chilling and disheartening
others; and sometimes at least we may so far follow in
the footsteps of St. Paul as to protect from the world’s
cynicism those who, with hearts more warm perhaps
than wise, are labouring manfully to leave the world
purer and happier than they found it.
CHAPTER III.
THE DOCTRINE CONDEMNED IN THE PASTORAL
EPISTLES A JEWISH FORM OF GNOSTICISM.—THE
GNOSTIC’S PROBLEM.
“As I exhorted thee to tarry at Ephesus, when I was going into
Macedonia, that thou mightest charge certain men not to teach a
different doctrine, neither to give heed to fables and endless genealogies,
the which minister questionings, rather than a dispensation of
God which is in faith; so do I now”—1 Tim. i. 2, 3.
This Epistle falls into two main divisions, of which
the first continues down to the 13th verse of
chap. iii. It treats of three different subjects: Christian
doctrine; Christian worship; and the Christian
ministry. The first of these three subjects is introduced
in the words of the text, which in the original
form an incomplete sentence. The last four words,
“so do I now,” are not expressed in the Greek. But
something must be supplied to complete the sense; and
it is more natural to understand with the Revisers “So
do I now exhort thee,” than with the A. V. “So do
thou tarry at Ephesus.” But the question is not of
great moment and cannot be decided with absolute
certainty. It is of more importance to enquire what
was the nature of the “different doctrine” which
Timothy was to endeavour to counteract. And on this
point we are not left in serious doubt. There are
various expressions used respecting it in these two
letters to Timothy which seem to point to two factors
in the heterodoxy about which St. Paul is anxious.
It is clear that the error is Jewish in origin; and it is
almost equally clear that it is Gnostic as well. The
evidence of the letter to Titus tends materially to confirm
these conclusions.
(1) The heresy is Jewish in character. Its promoters
“desire to be teachers of the Law” (ver. 7). Some of
them are “they of the circumcision” (Tit. i. 10). It
consists in “Jewish fables” (Tit. i. 14). The questions
which it raises are “fightings about the Law”
(Tit. iii. 9).
(2) Its Gnostic character is also indicated. We are
told both in the text and in the Epistle to Titus (i. 14;
iii. 9) that it deals in “fables and genealogies.” It is
“empty talking” (ver. 6), “disputes of words” (vi. 4),
and “profane babblings” (vi. 20). It teaches, an unscriptural
and unnatural asceticism (iv. 3, 8). It is
“Gnosis falsely so called” (vi. 20).
A heresy containing these two elements, Judaism and
Gnosticism, meets us both before and after the period
covered by the Pastoral Epistles: before in the Epistle
to the Colossians; afterwards in the Epistles of Ignatius.
The evidence gathered from these three sources
is entirely in harmony with what we learn elsewhere—that
the earliest forms of Christian Gnosticism were
Jewish in character. It will be observed that this is
indirect confirmation of the genuineness of the Pastoral
Epistles. The Gnosticism condemned in them is
Jewish; and any form of Gnosticism that was in
existence in St. Paul’s time would almost certainly be
Jewish.F. C. Baur himself contends that the false teachers here condemned
are “Judaizing Gnostics, who put forth their figurative interpretation
of the Law as true knowledge of the Law. Such were the
earlier Gnostics, such as the Ophites and Saturninus” (Protestant
Commentary, note on 1 Tim. i. 7).
Professor Godet has pointed out how entirely the
relation of Judaism to Christianity which is implied in
these Epistles, fits in with their being the last group of
Epistles written by St. Paul. At first, Judaism was
entirely outside the Church, opposing and blaspheming.
Then it entered the Church and tried to make the
Church Jewish, by foisting the Mosaic Law upon it.
Lastly, it becomes a fantastic heresy inside the Church,
and sinks into profane frivolity. “Pretended revelations
are given as to the names and genealogies of
angels; absurd ascetic rules are laid down as counsels
of perfection, while daring immorality defaces the
actual life.”Expositor, July, 1888, p. 42.
This is the phase which is confronted in
the Pastoral Epistles: and St. Paul meets it with a
simple appeal to faith and morality.
It is quite possible that the “fables,” or “myths,”
and “genealogies” ought to be transferred from the
Gnostic to the Jewish side of the account. And thus
Chrysostom interprets the passage. “By fables he
does not mean the Law; far from it; but inventions
and forgeries, and counterfeit doctrines. For, it seems,
the Jews wasted their whole discourse on these unprofitable
points. They numbered up their fathers and
grandfathers, that they might have the reputation of
historical knowledge and research.” The “fables”
then, may be understood to be those numerous legends
which the Jews added to the Old Testament, specimens
of which abound in the Talmud. But similar myths
abound in Gnostic systems, and therefore “fables” may
represent both elements of the heterodox teaching. So
also with the “endless genealogies.” These cannot
well refer to the genealogies in Genesis, for they are
not endless, each of them being arranged in tens. But
it is quite possible that Jewish speculations about the
genealogies of angels may be meant. Such things,
being purely imaginary, would be endless. Or the
Gnostic doctrine of emanations, in its earlier and cruder
forms, may be intended. By genealogies in this sense
early thinkers, especially in the East, tried to bridge
the chasm between the Infinite and the Finite, between
God and creation. In various systems it is assumed
that matter is inherently evil. The material universe
has been from the beginning not “very good” but very
bad. How then can it be believed that the Supreme
Being, infinite in goodness, would create such a thing?
This is incredible: the world must be the creature of
some inferior and perhaps evil being. But when this
was conceded, the distance between this inferior power
and the supreme God still remained to be bridged.
This, it was supposed, might be done by an indefinite
number of generations, each lower in dignity than the
preceding one, until at last a being capable of creating
the universe was found. From the Supreme God
emanated an inferior deity, and from this lower power
a third still more inferior; and so on, until the Creator
of the world was reached. These ideas are found in
the Jewish philosopher Philo; and it is to these that
St. Paul probably alludes in the “endless genealogies
which minister questionings rather than a dispensation
of God.” The idea that matter is evil dominates the
whole philosophy of Philo. He endeavoured to reconcile
this with the Old Testament, by supposing that
matter is eternal; and that it was out of pre-existing
material that God, acting through His creative powers,
made the world which He pronounced to be “very
good.” These powers are sometimes regarded as the
angels, sometimes as existences scarcely personal.
But they have no existence apart from their source,
any more than a ray apart from the sun. They are
now the instruments of God’s Providence, as formerly
of His creative power.
St. Paul condemns such speculations on four grounds.
(1) They are fables, myths, mere imaginings of the
human intellect in its attempt to account for the origin
of the world and the origin of evil. (2) They are
endless and interminable. From the nature of things
there is no limit to mere guesswork of this kind.
Every new speculator may invent a fresh genealogy of
emanations in his theory of creation, and may make it
any length that he pleases. If hypotheses need never
be verified,—need not even be capable of verification,—one
may go on constructing them ad infinitum. (3) As
a natural consequence of this (αἵτινες) they minister
questionings and nothing better. It is all barren speculation
and fruitless controversy. Where any one may
assert without proof, any one else may contradict
without proof; and nothing comes of this see-saw of
affirmation and negation. (4) Lastly, these vain imaginings
are a different doctrine. They are not only
empty but untrue, and are a hindrance to the truth.
They occupy the ground which ought to be filled with
the dispensation of God which is in faith. Human minds
are limited in their capacity, and, even if these empty
hypotheses were innocent, minds that were filled with
them would have little room left for the truth. But
they are not innocent: and those who are attracted by
them become disaffected towards the truth. It is impossible
to love both, for the two are opposed to one
another. These fables are baseless; they have no
foundation either in revelation or in human life. Moreover
they are vague, shifting, and incoherent. They
ramble on without end. But the Gospel is based on a
Divine Revelation, tested by human experience. It is
an economy, a system, an organic whole, a dispensation
of means to ends. Its sphere is not unbridled imagination
or audacious curiosity, but faith.
The history of the next hundred and fifty years
amply justifies the anxiety and severity of St. Paul.
The germs of Gnostic error, which were in the air
when Christianity was first preached, fructified with
amazing rapidity. It would be hard to find a parallel
in the history of philosophy to the speed with which
Gnostic views spread in and around Christendom
between A.D. 70 and 220. Eusebius tells us that, as
soon as the Apostles and those who had listened
“with their own ears to their inspired wisdom had
passed away, then the conspiracy of godless error took
its rise through the deceit of false teachers, who (now
that none of the Apostles was any longer left) henceforth
endeavoured with brazen face to preach their
knowledge falsely so called in opposition to the preaching
of the truth.”H. E., VI, xxxii. 8.
Throughout the Christian world,
and especially in intellectual centres such as Ephesus,
Alexandria and Rome, there was perhaps not a single
educated congregation which did not contain persons
who were infected with some form of Gnosticism.
Jerome’s famous hyperbole respecting Arianism might
be transferred to this earlier form of error, perhaps
the most perilous that the Church has ever known:
“The whole world groaned and was amazed to find
itself Gnostic.”
However severely we may condemn these speculations,
we cannot but sympathize with the perplexities
which produced them. The origin of the universe,
and still more the origin of evil, still remain unsolved
problems. No one in this life is ever likely to reach
a complete solution of either. What is the origin of
the material universe? To assume that it is not a
creature, but that matter is eternal, is to make two
first principles, one spiritual and one material; and
this is perilously near making two Gods. But the
belief that God made the world is by no means free
from difficulty. What was His motive in making the
world? Was His perfection increased by it? Then
God was once not fully perfect. Was His perfection
diminished by the act of creation? Then God is now
not fully perfect; and how can we suppose that He
would voluntarily surrender anything of His absolute
perfection? Was God neither the better nor the
worse for the creation of the universe? Then the
original question returns with its full force: What
induced Him to create it? We cannot suppose that
creation was an act of caprice. No complete answer
to this enigma is possible for us. One thing we know;—that
God is light and that God is love. And we may
be sure that in exercising His creative power He was
manifesting His perfect wisdom and His exhaustless
affection.
But will the knowledge that God is light and that God
is love help us to even a partial solution of that problem
which has wrung the souls of countless saints and
thinkers with anguish—the problem of the origin of
evil? How could a God who is perfectly wise and
perfectly good, make it possible for evil to arise, and
allow it to continue after it had arisen? Once more
the suggestion that there are two First Principles presents
itself, but in a more terrible form. Before, it was
the thought that there are two co-eternal Existences,
God and Matter. Now, it is the suggestion that there
are two co-eternal, and perhaps co-equal Powers, Good
and Evil. This hypothesis, impossible for a Christian
and rejected by John Stuart
Mill,Three Essays on Religion, pp. 185, 186.
creates more difficulties
than it solves. But, if this is the wrong answer,
what is the right one? Cardinal Newman, in one of
the most striking passages even in his works, has told
us how the problem presents itself to him. “Starting
then with the being of God (which, as I have said, is
as certain to me as the certainty of my own existence,
though when I try to put the grounds of that certainty
into logical shape, I find difficulty in doing so in mood
and figure to my satisfaction), I look out of myself into
the world of men, and there I see a sight which fills me
with unspeakable distress. The world seems simply to
give the lie to that great truth, of which my whole being
is so full; and the effect upon me is, in consequence,
as a matter of necessity, as confusing as if it denied
that I am in existence myself. If I looked into a mirror,
and did not see my face, I should have the sort of feeling
which actually comes upon me, when I look into this living
busy world and see no reflection of its Creator. This
is, to me, one of the great difficulties of this absolute
primary truth, to which I referred just now. Were it
not for this voice, speaking so clearly in my conscience
and my heart, I should be an atheist, or a pantheist,
or a polytheist, when I looked into the world. I am
speaking for myself only; and I am far from denying
the real force of the arguments in proof of a God, drawn
from the general facts of human society, but these do
not warm me or enlighten me; they do not take away
the winter of my desolation, or make the buds unfold
and the leaves grow within me, and my moral being
rejoice. The sight of the world is nothing else than
the prophet’s scroll full of ‘lamentations, and mourning,
and woe.’ ... What shall be said to this heart-piercing,
reason-bewildering fact? I can only answer,
that either there is no Creator, or this living society of
men is in a true sense discarded from His presence.
Did I see a boy of good make and mind, with the tokens
on him of a refined nature, cast upon the world without
provision, unable to say whence he came, his birthplace
or his family connexions, I should conclude that
there was some mystery connected with his history, and
that he was one, of whom, from one cause or other, his
parents were ashamed. Thus only should I be able to
account for the contrast between the promise and condition
of his being. And so I argue about the world;—if
there be a God, since there is a God, the human
race is implicated in some terrible aboriginal calamity.
It is out of joint with the purposes of its Creator. This
is a fact, a fact as true as the fact of its existence; and
thus the doctrine of what is theologically called original
sin becomes to me almost as certain as that the world
exists, and as the existence of
God.”Apologia pro Vita Sua (Longmans, 1864), pp. 376–379.
But this only carries us a short way towards a solution.
Why did God allow the “aboriginal calamity”
of sin to be possible? This was the Gnostic’s difficulty,
and it is our difficulty still. Can we say more than this
by way of an answer? God willed that angels and
men should honour Him with a voluntary and not a
mechanical service. If they obeyed Him, it should be
of their own free will, and not of necessity. It should
be possible to them to refuse service and obedience.
In short, God willed to be reverenced and worshipped,
and not merely served and obeyed. A machine can
render service; and a person under the influence of
mesmerism may be forced to obey. But do we not all
feel that the voluntary service of a conscious and
willing agent, who prefers to render rather than to
withhold his service, is a nobler thing both for him who
gives, and him who receives it? Compulsory labour is
apt to turn the servant into a slave and the master into
a tyrant. We see, therefore, a reason why the Creator
in creating conscious beings made them also moral;
made them capable of obeying Him of their own free
will, and therefore also capable of disobeying Him. In
other words, He made sin, with all its consequences,
possible. Then it became merely a question of historical
fact whether any angelic or human being would
ever abuse his freedom by choosing to disobey. That
“aboriginal calamity,” we know, has taken place; and
all the moral and physical evil which now exists in the
world, is the natural consequence of it.
This is, perhaps, the best solution that the human
mind is likely to discover, respecting this primeval and
terrible mystery. But it is only a partial solution; and
the knowledge that we have still not attained to a
complete answer to the question which perplexed the
early Gnostics, ought to banish from our minds anything
like arrogance or contempt, when we condemn
their answer as unchristian and inadequate. “The end
of the charge” which has been given to us is not the
condemnation of others, but “love out of a pure heart
and a good conscience and faith unfeigned.”
CHAPTER IV.
THE MORAL TEACHING OF THE GNOSTICS.—ITS
MODERN COUNTERPART.
“But we know that the law is good if a man use it lawfully, as
knowing this, that law is not made for a righteous man, but for the
lawless and unruly, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and
profane, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers, for man-slayers,
for fornicators, for abusers of themselves with men, for men-stealers,
for liars, for false swearers, and if there be any other thing
contrary to the sound doctrine; according to the gospel of the
glory of the blessed God, which was committed to my trust”—1
Tim. i. 8–11.
The speculations of the Gnostics in their attempts
to explain the origin of the universe and the origin
of evil, were wild and unprofitable enough; and in some
respects involved a fundamental contradiction of the
plain statements of Scripture. But it was not so much
their metaphysical as their moral teaching, which
seemed so perilous to St. Paul. Their “endless genealogies”
might have been left to fall with their own
dead weight, so dull and uninteresting were they.
Specimens of them still survive, in what is known to
us of the systems of Basilides and Valentinus; and
which of us, after having laboriously worked through
them, ever wished to read them a second time? But
it is impossible to keep one’s philosophy in one compartment
in one’s mind, and one’s religion and morality
quite separate from it in another. However unpractical
metaphysical speculations may appear, it is beyond
question that the views which we hold respecting such
things may have momentous influence upon our life.
It was so with the early Gnostics, whom St. Paul urges
Timothy to keep in check. Their doctrine respecting
the nature of the material world and its relation to God,
led to two opposite forms of ethical teaching, each of
them radically opposed to Christianity.
This fact fits in very well with the character of the
Pastoral Epistles, all of which deal with this early form
of error. They insist upon discipline and morality,
more than upon doctrine. These last solemn charges
of the great Apostle aim rather at making Christian
ministers, and their congregations, lead pure and holy
lives, than at constructing any system of theology.
Erroneous teaching must be resisted; the plain truths
of the Gospel must be upheld; but the main thing is
holiness of life. By prayer and thanksgiving, by quiet
and grave conduct, by modesty and temperance, by
self-denial and benevolence, by reverence for the sanctity
of home life, Christians will furnish the best antidote
to the intellectual and moral poison which the false
teachers are propagating. “The sound doctrine” has
its fruit in a healthy, moral life, as surely as the
“different doctrine” leads to spiritual pride and lawless
sensuality.
The belief that Matter and everything material is
inherently evil, involved necessarily a contempt for the
human body. This body was a vile thing; and it was
a dire calamity to the human mind to be joined to such
a mass of evil. From this premise various conclusions,
some doctrinal and some ethical, were drawn.
On the doctrinal side it was urged that the resurrection
of the body was incredible. It was disastrous
enough to the soul that it should be burdened with a
body in this world. That this degrading alliance would
be continued in the world to come, was a monstrous
belief. Equally incredible was the doctrine of the
Incarnation. How could the Divine Word consent to
be united with so evil a thing as a material frame?
Either the Son of Mary was a mere man, or the body
which the Christ assumed was not real. It is with
these errors that St. John deals, some twelve or fifteen
years later, in his Gospel and Epistles.
On the ethical side the tenet that the human body
is utterly evil produced two opposite errors,—asceticism
and antinomian sensuality. And both of these are aimed
at in these Epistles. If the enlightenment of the soul
is everything, and the body is utterly worthless, then
this vile clog to the movement of the soul must be
beaten under and crushed, in order that the higher
nature may rise to higher things. The body must be
denied all indulgence, in order that it may be starved
into submission (iv. 3). On the other hand, if enlightenment
is everything and the body is worthless, then
every kind of experience, no matter how shameless, is
of value, in order to enlarge knowledge. Nothing that
a man can do can make his body more vile than it is
by nature, and the soul of the enlightened is incapable
of pollution. Gold still remains gold, however often it
is plunged in the mire.
The words of the three verses taken as a text, look
as if St. Paul was aiming at evil of this kind. These
Judaizing Gnostics “desired to be teachers of the Law.”
They wished to enforce the Mosaic Law, or rather their
fantastic interpretations of it, upon Christians. They
insisted upon its excellence, and would not allow that
it has been in many respects superseded. “We know
quite well,” says the Apostle, “and readily admit, that
the Mosaic Law is an excellent thing; provided that
those who undertake to expound it make a legitimate
use of it. They must remember that, just as law in
general is not made for those whose own good principles
keep them in the right, so also the restrictions
of the Mosaic Law are not meant for Christians who
obey the Divine will in the free spirit of the Gospel.”
Legal restrictions are intended to control those who
will not control themselves; in short, for the very men
who by their strange doctrines are endeavouring to
curtail the liberties of others. What they preach as
“the Law” is really a code of their own, “commandments
of men who turn away from the truth.... They
profess that they know God; but by their works they
deny Him, being abominable, and disobedient, and unto
every good work reprobate” (Tit. i. 14, 16). In rehearsing
the various kinds of sinners for whom law
exists, and who are to be found (he hints) among these
false teachers, he goes roughly through the Decalogue.
The four commandments of the First Table are indicated
in general and comprehensive terms; the first
five commandments of the Second Table are taken one
by one, flagrant violators being specified in each case.
Thus the stealing of a human being in order to make
him a slave, is mentioned as the most outrageous breach
of the eighth commandment. The tenth commandment
is not distinctly indicated, possibly because the
breaches of it are not so easily detected. The overt
acts of these men were quite sufficient to convict them
of gross immorality, without enquiring as to their secret
wishes and desires. In a word, the very persons who
in their teaching were endeavouring to burden men with
the ceremonial ordinances, which had been done away
in Christ, were in their own lives violating the moral
laws, to which Christ had given a new sanction. They
tried to keep alive, in new and strange forms, what
had been provisional and was now obsolete, while they
trampled under foot what was eternal and Divine.
“If there be any other thing contrary to the sound
doctrine.” In these words St. Paul sums up all the
forms of transgression not specified in his catalogue.
The sound, healthy teaching of the Gospel is opposed
to the morbid and corrupt teaching of the Gnostics, who
are sickly in their speculations (vi. 4), and whose word
is like an eating sore (2 Tim. ii. 17). Of course healthy
teaching is also health-giving, and corrupt teaching is
corrupting; but it is the primary and not the derived
quality that is stated here. It is the healthiness of the
doctrine in itself, and its freedom from what is diseased
or distorted, that is insisted upon. Its wholesome
character is a consequence of this.
This word “sound” or “healthy” (ὑγιαίνων, ὑγιής),
as applied to doctrine,1 Tim. vi. 3; 2 Tim. i. 13, iv. 3; Tit. i. 9, 13, ii. 1, 2, 8.
is one of a group of expressions
which are peculiar to the Pastoral Epistles, and which
have been condemned as not belonging to St. Paul’s
style of language. He never uses “healthy” in his
other Epistles; therefore these three Epistles, in which
the phrase occurs eight or nine times, are not by him.
This kind of argument has been discussed already,
in the first of these expositions. It assumes the manifest
untruth, that as life goes on men make little or no
change in the stock of words and phrases which they
habitually use. With regard to this particular phrase,
the source of it has been conjectured with a fair amount
of probability. It may have come from “the beloved
physician,” who, at the time when St. Paul wrote the
Second Epistle to Timothy, was the Apostle’s sole companion.
It is worth remarking that the word here used
for “sound” (with the exception of one passage in the
Third Epistle of St. John) occurs nowhere in the New
Testament in the literal sense of being in sound bodily
health, except in the Gospel of St. Luke. And it
occurs nowhere in a figurative sense, except in the
Pastoral Epistles. It is obviously a medical metaphor;
a metaphor which any one who had never had anything
to do with medicine might easily use, but which is
specially likely to be used by a man who had lived
much in the society of a physician. Before we call
such a phrase un-Pauline we must ask: (1) Is there any
passage in the earlier Epistles of St. Paul where he
would certainly have used this word “sound,” had he
been familiar with it? (2) Is there any word in the
earlier Epistles which would have expressed his meaning
here equally well? If either of these questions
is answered in the negative, then we are going beyond
our knowledge in pronouncing the phrase “sound
doctrine”The Revisers as a rule render διδασκαλία by “doctrine,” as here,
iv. 6, vi. 1, 3; 2 Tim. iv. 3; Tit. i. 9, ii. 1, 7, 10 (but not in iv. 13, 16,
v. 17; 2 Tim. iii. 10, 16), while they render διδαχή by “teaching,”
as 2 Tim. iv. 2; Tit. i. 9, and frequently in the Gospels. But διδασκαλία,
as being closer to διδάσκαλος “a teacher,” is “teaching”
rather than “doctrine,” and διδαχή is “doctrine” rather than
“teaching.” See p. 238.
to be un-Pauline.
“Contrary to the sound doctrine.” It sums up in a
comprehensive phrase the doctrinal and moral teaching
of the Gnostics. What they taught was unsound and
morbid, and as a consequence poisonous and pestilential.
While professing to accept and expound the
Gospel, they really disintegrated it and explained it
away. They destroyed the very basis of the Gospel
message; for they denied the reality of sin. And they
equally destroyed the contents of the message; for
they denied the reality of the Incarnation. Nor were
they less revolutionary on the moral side than on
the doctrinal. The foundations of morality are sapped
when intellectual enlightenment is accounted as the
one thing needful, while conduct is treated as a thing
of no value. Principles of morality are turned upside
down when it is maintained that any act which adds to
one’s knowledge is not only allowable, but a duty. It
is necessary to remember these fatal characteristics of
this early form of error, in order to appreciate the stern
language used by St. Paul and St. John respecting it,
as also by St. Jude and the author of the Second Epistle
of Peter.
St. John in his Epistles deals mainly with the doctrinal
side of the heresy,—the denial of the reality of sin and
of the reality of the
Incarnation:1 John i. 8–10, ii. 22, 23, iii. 4, 8, iv. 2, 3, 15, v. 1, 5, 16, 17; 2
John 7.
although the moral
results of doctrinal error are also indicated and
condemned.ii. 9, 11, iii. 15, 17.
In the Apocalypse, as in St. Paul and in
the Catholic Epistles, it is mainly the moral side of the
false teaching that is denounced, and that in both its
opposite phases. The Epistle to the Colossians deals
with the ascetic tendencies of early
gnosticism.ii. 16, 21, 23.
The
Apocalypse and the Catholic Epistles deal with its
licentious tendencies.Rev. ii. 14, 20–22; 2 Peter ii. 10–22; Jude 8, 10, 13, 16, 18.
The Pastoral Epistles treat of
both asceticism and licentiousness, but chiefly of the
latter, as is seen from the passage before us and from
the first part of chapter iii. in the Second Epistle. As
we might expect, St. Paul uses stronger language in
the Pastoral Epistles than he does in writing to the
Colossians; and in St. John and the Catholic Epistles we
find stronger language still. Antinomian licentiousness
is a far worse evil than misguided asceticism, and in
the interval between St. Paul and the other writers the
profligacy of the antinomian Gnostics had increased.
St. Paul warns the Colossians against delusive “persuasiveness
of speech,” against “vain deceit,” “the
rudiments of the world,” “the precepts and doctrines
of men.” He cautions Timothy and Titus respecting
“seducing spirits and doctrines of devils,” “profane
and old wives’ fables,” “profane babblings” and teachings
that “will eat as doth a gangrene,” “vain talkers
and deceivers” whose “mind and conscience is deceived,”
and the like. St. John denounces these false teachers
as “liars,” “seducers,” “false prophets,” “deceivers,”
and “antichrists;” and in Jude and the Second Epistle
of Peter we have the profligate lives of these false
teachers condemned in equally severe terms.
It should be observed that here again everything falls
into its proper place if we assume that the Pastoral
Epistles were written some years later than the Epistle
to the Colossians and some years earlier than those
of St. Jude and St. John. The ascetic tendencies of
Gnosticism developed first. And though they still continued
in teachers like Tatian and Marcion, yet from the
close of the first century the licentious conclusions
drawn from the premises that the human body is worthless
and that all knowledge is divine, became more and
more prevalent; as is seen in the teaching of Carpocrates
and Epiphanes, and in the monstrous sect of the
Cainites. It was quite natural, therefore, that St. Paul
should attack Gnostic asceticism first in writing to the
Colossians, and afterwards both it and Gnostic licentiousness
in writing to Timothy and Titus. It was
equally natural that his language should grow stronger
as he saw the second evil developing, and that those
who saw this second evil at a more advanced stage
should use sterner language still.
The extravagant theories of the Gnostics to account
for the origin of the universe and the origin of evil are
gone and are past recall. It would be impossible to
induce people to believe them, and only a comparatively
small number of students ever even read them. But
the heresy that knowledge is more important than
conduct, that brilliant intellectual gifts render a man
superior to the moral law, and that much of the moral
law itself is the tyrannical bondage of an obsolete tradition,
is as dangerous as ever it was. It is openly
preached and frequently acted upon. The great
Florentine artist, Benvenuto Cellini, tells us in his autobiography
that when Pope Paul III. expressed his
willingness to forgive him an outrageous murder committed
in the streets of Rome, one of the gentlemen at
the Papal Court ventured to remonstrate with the Pope
for condoning so heinous a crime. “You do not
understand the matter as well as I do,” replied Paul III.:
“I would have you to know that men like Benvenuto,
unique in their profession, are not bound by the laws.”
Cellini is a braggart, and it is possible that in this
particular he is romancing. But, even if the story is
his invention, he merely attributes to the Pope the
sentiments which he cherished himself, and upon which
(as experience taught him) other people acted. Over
and over again his murderous violence was overlooked
by those in authority, because they admired and wished
to make use of his genius as an artist. “Ability before
honesty” was a common creed in the sixteenth century,
and it is abundantly prevalent in our own. The most
notorious scandals in a man’s private life are condoned
if only he is recognized as having talent. It is the old
Gnostic error in a modern and sometimes agnostic form.
It is becoming daily more clear that the one thing
needful for the regeneration of society, whether upper,
middle, or lower, is the creation of a “sound” public
opinion. And so long as this is so, God’s ministers
and all who have the duty of instructing others will
need to lay to heart the warnings which St. Paul gives
to his followers Timothy and Titus.
CHAPTER V.
THE LORD’S COMPASSION IN ENABLING A BLASPHEMER
AND A PERSECUTOR TO BECOME A
SERVANT OF CHRIST JESUS AND A PREACHER
OF THE GOSPEL.
“I thank Him that enabled me, even Christ Jesus our Lord, for
that He counted me faithful, appointing me to His service; though I
was before a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious: howbeit
I obtained mercy, because I did it ignorantly in unbelief; and the
grace of our Lord abounded exceedingly with faith and love which
is in Christ Jesus.”—1 Tim. i. 12–14.
In the concluding sentence of the preceding paragraph
(vv. 3, 11) the Apostle points out that what he has
been saying respecting the erroneous teaching and
practice of the heterodox innovators is entirely in
harmony with the spirit of the Gospel which had been
committed to his trust.It is worth while pointing out that the peculiar construction
ὃ ἐπιστεύθην ἐγώ
occurs in the New Testament, only in the Pastoral
Epistles and in other Pauline Epistles, the genuineness of which is
now scarcely disputed—1 Thess. ii. 4; 1 Cor. ix. 17; Rom. iii. 2;
Gal. ii. 7.
This mention of his own
high commission to preach “the Gospel of the glory
of the blessed God” suggests at once to him some
thoughts both of thankfulness and humility, to which
he now gives expression. His own experience of the
Gospel, especially in connexion with his conversion
from being a persecutor to becoming a preacher, offer
further points of contrast between Gnosticism and
Christianity.
The false teachers wasted thought and attention
upon barren speculations, which, even if they could
under any conceivable circumstances be proved true,
would have supplied no guidance to mankind in regulating
conduct. And whenever Gnostic teaching
became practical, it frittered away morality in servile
observances, based on capricious interpretations of the
Mosaic Law. Of true morality there was an utter
disregard, and frequently an open violation. Of the
one thing for which the self-accusing conscience was
yearning—the forgiveness of sin—it knew nothing,
because it had no appreciation of the reality of sin.
Sin was only part of the evil which was inherent in
the material universe, and therefore in the human body.
A system which had no place for the forgiveness of
sin had also no place for the Divine compassion, which
it is the purpose of the Gospel to reveal. How very
real this compassion and forgiveness are, and how
much human beings stand in need of them, St. Paul
testifies from his own experience, the remembrance of
which makes him burst out into thanksgiving.
The Apostle offers thanks to Jesus Christ, the source
of all his strength, for having confidence in him as a
person worthy of trust. This confidence He proved
by “appointing Paul to His service;” a confidence all
the more marvellous and worthy of gratitude because
Paul had before been “a blasphemer, and a persecutor,
and injurious.” He had been a blasphemer, for he
had thought that he “ought to do many things contrary
to the name of Jesus of Nazareth;” and he had
been a persecutor for he had punished believers “often-times
in all the synagogues,” and “strove to make
them blaspheme.” That is ever the persecutor’s aim;—to
make those who differ from him speak evil of
what they reverence but he abhors; to say they renounce
what in their heart of hearts they believe.
There is, therefore, thus far an ascending scale in the
iniquity which the Apostle confesses. He not only
blasphemed the Divine Name himself, but he endeavoured
to compel others to do the same. The third
word, although the English Version obscures the fact,
continues the ascending scale of self-condemnation.
“Injurious” does scant justice to the force of the
Greek word used by the Apostle (ὑβριστής), although
it is not easy to suggest a better rendering. The word
is very common in classical authors, but in the New
Testament occurs only here and in Rom. i. 30, where
the A.V. translates it “despiteful” and the R.V.
“insolent.” It is frequent in the Septuagint. It indicates
one who takes an insolent and wanton delight
in violence, one whose pleasure lies in outraging the
feelings of others. The most conspicuous instance of
it in the New Testament, and perhaps anywhere, would
be the Roman soldiers mocking and torturing Jesus
Christ with the crown of thorns and the royal robe.
Of such conduct St. Paul himself since his conversion
had been the victim, and he here confesses that before
his conversion he had been guilty of it himself. In
his misguided zeal he had punished innocent people,
and he had inflicted punishment, not with pitying reluctance,
but with arrogant delight.
It is worth pointing out that in this third charge
against himself, as well as in the first, St. Paul goes
beyond what he states in the similar passages in the
Epistles to the Corinthians, Philippians, and Galatians.
There he simply draws attention to the fact that he
had been a persecutor who had made havoc of the
Church.1 Cor. xv. 8, 10; Gal. i. 13, 23; Phil. iii. 6; comp. Acts xxii. 4,
5, 19.
He says nothing about blaspheming or
taking an insolent satisfaction in the pain which he
inflicted. This has some bearing on the genuineness
of this Epistle. (1) It shows that St. Paul was in the
habit of alluding to the fact that he had been a persecutor.
It was part of his preaching, for it proved
that his conversion was directly and immediately God’s
work. He did not owe the Gospel which he preached
to any persuasion on the part of man. It is, therefore,
quite in harmony with St. Paul’s practice to insist on
his former misconduct. But it may be urged that a
forger might notice this and imitate it. That of course
is true. But if these Epistles are a forgery, they are
certainly not forged with any intention of injuring St.
Paul’s memory. Is it likely, then, that a forger in
imitating the self-accusation of the Apostle, would use
stronger language than the Apostle himself uses in
those Epistles which are indisputably his? Would
he go out of his way to use such strong language
as “blasphemer,” and “insolent oppressor”? But, if
St. Paul wrote these Epistles, this exceptionally strong
language is thoroughly natural in a passage in which
the Apostle wishes to place in as strong a light as may
be the greatness of the Divine compassion in forgiving
sins, as manifested in his own case. He had been
foremost as a bitter and arrogant opponent of the
Gospel; and yet God had singled him out to be foremost
in preaching it. Here was a proof that no sinner
need despair. What comfort for a fallen race could
the false teachers offer in comparison with this?
Like St. Peter’s sin in denying His Lord, St. Paul’s
sin in persecuting Him was overruled for good. The
Divine process of bringing good out of evil was strongly
exemplified in it. The Gnostic teachers had tried to
show how, by a gradual degradation, evil might proceed
from the Supreme Good. There is nothing Divine
in such a process as that. The fall from good to evil
is rather a devilish one, as when an angel of light
became the evil one and involved mankind in his own
fall. Divinity is shown in the converse process of
making what is evil work towards what is good.
Under Divine guidance St. Paul’s self-righteous confidence
and arrogant intolerance were turned into
a blessing to himself and others. The recollection of
his sin kept him humble, intensified his gratitude, and
gave him a strong additional motive to devote himself
to the work of bringing others to the Master who had
been so gracious to himself. St. Chrysostom in commenting
on this passage in his Homilies on the Pastoral
Epistles points out how it illustrates St. Paul’s humility,
a virtue which is more often praised than practised.
“This quality was so cultivated by the blessed Paul,
that he is ever looking out for inducements to be
humble. They who are conscious to themselves of
great merits must struggle much with themselves if
they would be humble. And he too was one likely to
be under violent temptations, his own good conscience
swelling him up like a gathering tumour.... Being
filled, therefore, with high thoughts, and having used
magnificent expressions, he at once depresses himself,
and engages others also to do the like. Having said,
then, that the Gospel was committed to his trust, lest this
should seem to be said with pride, he checks himself at
once, adding by way of correction, I thank Him that
enabled me, Christ Jesus our Lord, for that He counted me
faithful, appointing me to His service. Thus everywhere,
we see, he conceals his own merit and ascribes
everything to God, yet so far only as not to take away
free will.”
These concluding words are an important qualification.
The Apostle constantly insists on his conversion
as the result of a special revelation of Jesus Christ to
himself, in other words a miracle: he nowhere hints
that his conversion in itself was miraculous. No psychological
miracle was wrought, forcing him to accept
Christ against his will. God converts no one by
magic. It is a free and reasonable service that he
asks for from beings whom He has created free and
reasonable. Men were made moral beings, and He
who made them such does not treat them as machines.
In his defence at Cæsarea St. Paul tells Herod Agrippa
that he “was not disobedient to the heavenly vision.”
He might have been. He might, like Judas, have
resisted all the miraculous power displayed before him
and have continued to persecute Christ. If he had
no choice whatever in the matter, it was an abuse of
language to affirm that he “was not disobedient.” And
in that case we should need some other metaphor than
“kicking against the goads.” It is impossible to kick
against the goads if one has no control over one’s own
limbs. The limbs and the strength to use them were
God’s gifts, without which he could have done nothing.
But with these gifts it was open to him either to obey the
Divine commands or “even to fight against God”—a
senseless and wicked thing, no doubt, but still possible.
In this passage the Divine and the human sides are
plainly indicated. On the one hand, Christ enabled
him and showed confidence in him: on the other, Paul
accepted the service and was faithful. He might have
refused the service; or, having accepted it, he might
have shown himself unfaithful to his trust.
“Howbeit, I obtained mercy because I did it ignorantly
in unbelief.” These words are sometimes misunderstood.
They are not intended as an excuse, any
more than St. John’s designation of himself as “the
disciple whom Jesus loved” are intended as a boast.
St. John had been the recipient of very exceptional
favours. Along with only St. Peter and St. James he
had been present at the raising of Jairus’s daughter,
at the Transfiguration, and at the Agony in the Gethsemane.
From even these chosen three he had been
singled out to be told who was the traitor; to have the
lifelong charge of providing for the Mother of the Lord;
to be the first to recognize the risen Lord at the sea
of Tiberias.St. John xiii. 23, xix. 26, xxi. 7.
What was the explanation of all these
honours? The recipient of them had only one to give.
He had no merits, no claim to anything of the kind;
but Jesus loved him.
So also with St. Paul. There were multitudes of
Jews who, like himself, had had, as he tells the Romans,
“a zeal for God, but not according to
knowledge.”Rom. x. 2.
There were many who, like himself, had opposed the
truth and persecuted the Christ. Why did any of
them obtain mercy? Why did he receive such marked
favour and honour? Not because of any merit on
their part or his: but because they had sinned ignorantly
(i.e., without knowing the enormity of their sin),
and because “the grace of the Lord abounded exceedingly.”
The Apostle is not endeavouring to
extenuate his own culpability, but to justify and
magnify the Divine compassion. Of the whole Jewish
nation it was true that “they knew not what they did”
in crucifying Jesus of Nazareth; but it was true in
very various degrees. “Even of the rulers many
believed on Him; but because of the Pharisees they
did not confess, lest they should be put out of the
synagogue: for they loved the glory of men more than
the glory of God.” It was because St. Paul did not in
this way sin against light that he found mercy, not
merely in being forgiven the sin of persecuting Christ,
but in being enabled to accept and be faithful in the
service of Him whom he had persecuted.
Two of the changes made by the Revisers in this
passage seem to call for notice: they both occur in the
same phrase and have a similar tendency. Instead
of “putting me into the ministry” the R.V. gives us
“appointing me to His service.” A similar change has
been made in v. 7 of the next chapter, where “I was
appointed a preacher” takes the place of “I am ordained
a preacher,” and in John xv. 16 where “I chose you
and appointed you” has been substituted for “I have
chosen you and ordained
you.”Comp. Acts xxii. 14 and 2 Cor. viii. 19; also Mark iii. 14 and
Acts xiv. 23. See on Tit. i. 5–7.
In these alterations
the Revisers are only following the example set by the
A.V. itself in other passages. In 2 Tim. i. 11, as in
Luke x. 1, and 1 Thess. v. 9, both versions have “appointed.”
The alterations are manifest improvements.
In the passage before us it is possible that the Greek
has the special signification of “putting me into the
ministry,” but it is by no means certain, and perhaps
not even probable, that it does so. Therefore the more
comprehensive and general translation, “appointing me
to His service,” is to be preferred. The wider rendering
includes and covers the other; and this is a further
advantage. To translate the Greek words used in these
passages (τιθέναι, ποιεῖν, κ.τ.λ.) by such a very definite
word as “ordain” leads the reader to suppose these
texts refer to the ecclesiastical act of ordination; of
which there is no evidence. The idea conveyed by
the Greek in this passage, as in John xv. 16, is that of
placing a man at a particular post, and would be as
applicable to civil as to ministerial duties. We are not,
therefore, justified in translating it by a phrase which
has distinct ecclesiastical associations.
The question is not one of mere linguistic accuracy.
There are larger issues involved than those of correct
translation from Greek to English. If we adopt the
wider rendering, then it is evident that the blessing
for which St. Paul expresses heartfelt gratitude, and
which he cites as evidence of Divine compassion and
forgiveness, is not the call to be an Apostle, in which
none of us can share, nor exclusively the call to be a
minister of the Gospel, in which only a limited number
of us can share; but also the being appointed to any
service in Christ’s kingdom, which is an honour to
which all Christians are called. Every earnest Christian
knows from personal experience this evidence of the
Divine character of the Gospel. It is full of compassion
for those who have sinned; not because, like the
Gnostic teachers, it glosses over the malignity and
culpability of sin, but because, unlike Gnosticism, it
recognizes the preciousness of each human soul, and
the difficulties which beset it. Every Christian knows
that he has inherited an evil nature:—so far he and
the Gnostic are agreed. But he also knows that to
the sin which he has inherited he has added sin for
which he is personally responsible, and which his conscience
does not excuse as if it were something which
is a misfortune and not a fault. Yet he is not left
without remedy under the burden of these self-accusations.
He knows that, if he seeks for it, he can find
forgiveness, and forgiveness of a singularly generous
kind. He is not only forgiven, but restored to favour
and treated with respect. He is at once placed in a
position of trust. In spite of the past, it is assumed
that he will be a faithful servant, and he is allowed to
minister to his Master and his Master’s followers. To
him also “the grace of our Lord” has “abounded
exceedingly with faith and love which is in Christ
Jesus.” The generous compassion shown to St. Paul
is not unique or exceptional; it is typical. And it is a
type, not to the few, but to many; not to clergy only,
but to all. “For this cause I obtained mercy, that in
me as chief might Jesus Christ show forth all His long-suffering,
for an ensample of them which should hereafter
believe on Him unto eternal life.”
CHAPTER VI.
THE PROPHECIES ON TIMOTHY.—THE PROPHETS OF
THE NEW TESTAMENT, AN EXCEPTIONAL INSTRUMENT
OF EDIFICATION.
“This charge I commit unto thee, my own child Timothy, according
to the prophecies which went before on thee, that by them thou
mayest war the good warfare; holding faith and a good conscience;
which some having thrust from them made shipwreck concerning the
faith: of whom is Hymenæus and Alexander; whom I delivered
unto Satan, that they might be taught not to blaspheme.”—1 Tim.
i. 18–20.
In this section St. Paul returns from the subject of
the false teachers against whom Timothy has to
contend (vv. 3–11), and the contrast to their teaching
exhibited by the Gospel in the Apostle’s own case
(vv. 12–17), to the main purpose of the letter, viz.,
the instructions to be given to Timothy for the due
performance of his difficult duties as overseer of the
Church of Ephesus. The section contains two subjects
of special interest, each of which requires consideration;—the
prophecies respecting Timothy and the
punishment of Hymenæus and Alexander.
1. “This charge I commit unto thee, my child
Timothy, according to the prophecies which went before
on thee.” As the margin of the R.V. points out, this
last phrase might also be read “according to the
prophecies which led the way to thee,” for the Greek
may mean either. The question is, whether St. Paul
is referring to certain prophecies which “led the way
to” Timothy, i.e., which designated him as specially
suited for the ministry, and led to his ordination by
St. Paul and the presbyters; or whether he is referring
to certain prophecies which were uttered over Timothy
(ἐπὶ σέ) either at the time of his conversion or of
his admission to the ministry. Both the A.V. and
the R.V. give the preference to the latter rendering,
which (without excluding such a view) does not commit
us to the opinion that St. Paul was in any sense
led to Timothy by these prophecies, a thought which
is not clearly intimated in the original. All that we
are certain of is, that long before the writing of this
letter prophecies of which Timothy was the object
were uttered over him, and that they were of such a
nature as to be an incentive and support to him in his
ministry.
But if we look on to the fourteenth verse of the
fourth chapter in this Epistle and to the sixth of the
first chapter in the Second, we shall not have much
doubt when these prophecies were uttered. There we
read, “Neglect not the gift that is in thee, which was
given thee by prophecy, with the laying on of the hands
of the presbytery!” and “For which cause I put thee
in remembrance that thou stir up the gift of God, which
is in thee through the laying on of my hands.” Must
we not believe that these two passages and the passage
before us all refer to the same occasion—the same crisis
in Timothy’s life? In all three of them St. Paul appeals
to the spiritual gift that was bestowed upon his
disciple “by means of prophecy” and “by means of the
laying on of hands.” The same preposition and case
((διά with the genitive) is used in each case. Clearly,
then, we are to understand that the prophesying and the
laying on of hands accompanied one another. Here
only the prophesying is mentioned. In chapter iv.
the prophesying, accompanied by the imposition of the
presbyters’ hands, is the means by which the grace is
conferred. In the Second Epistle only the laying on of
the Apostle’s hands is mentioned, and it is spoken of as
the means by which the grace is conferred. Therefore,
although the present passage by itself leaves the
question open, yet when we take the other two into
consideration along with it, we may safely neglect the
possibility of prophecies which led the way to the
ordination of Timothy, and understand the Apostle as
referring to those sacred utterances which were a
marked element in his disciple’s ordination and formed
a prelude and earnest of his ministry. These sacred
utterances indicated a Divine commission and Divine
approbation publicly expressed respecting the choice of
Timothy for this special work. They were also a
means of grace; for by means of them a spiritual
blessing was bestowed upon the young minister. In
alluding to them here, therefore, St. Paul reminds him
Who it was by whom he was really chosen and ordained.
It is as if he said, “We laid our hands upon you; but
it was no ordinary election made by human votes. It
was God who elected you; God who gave you your
commission, and with it the power to fulfil it. Beware,
therefore, of disgracing His appointment and of neglecting
or abusing His gift.”Chrysostom in loco. Hom. v. sub init.
The voice of prophecy, therefore, either pointed out
Timothy as a chosen vessel for the ministry, or publicly
ratified the choice which had already been made by
St. Paul and others. But by whom was this voice of
prophecy uttered? By a special order of prophets?
Or by St. Paul and the presbyters specially inspired to
act as such? The answer to this question involves
some consideration of the office, or rather function, of a
prophet, especially in the New Testament.
The word “prophet” is frequently understood in
far too limited a sense. It is commonly restricted to
the one function of predicting the future. But, if we
may venture to coin words in order to bring out points
of differences, there are three main ideas involved in
the title “prophet.” (1) A for-teller; one who speaks
for or instead of another, especially one who speaks
for or in the name of God; a Divine messenger,
ambassador, interpreter, or spokesman. (2) A forth-teller;
one who has a special message to deliver forth
to the world; a proclaimer, harbinger, or herald. (3)
A fore-teller; one who tells beforehand what is coming;
a predicter of future events. To be the bearer or
interpreter of a Divine message is the fundamental
conception of the prophet in classical Greek; and to
a large extent this conception prevails in both the Old
and the New Testament. To be in immediate intercourse
with Jehovah, and to be His spokesman to
Israel, was what the Hebrews understood by the gift
of prophecy. It was by no means necessary that the
Divine communication which the prophet had to make
known to the people should relate to the future. It
might be a denunciation of past sins, or an exhortation
respecting present conduct, quite as naturally as a
prediction of what was coming. And in the Acts and
Pauline Epistles the idea of a prophet remains much
the same. He is one to whom has been granted special
insight into God’s counsels, and who communicates
these mysteries to others. Both in the Jewish and
primitive Christian dispensations, the prophets are the
means of communication between God and His Church.
Eight persons are mentioned by name in the Acts
of the Apostles as exercising this gift of prophecy:
Agabus, Barnabas, Symeon called Niger, Lucius of
Cyrene, Manaen the foster-brother of Herod the
tetrarch, Judas, Silas, and St. Paul himself. On certain
occasions the Divine communication made to them by
the Spirit included a knowledge of the future; as when
Agabus foretold the great famine (xi. 28) and the
imprisonment of St. Paul (xxi. 11), and when St. Paul
told that the Holy Spirit testified to him in every city,
that bonds and afflictions awaited him at Jerusalem
(xx. 23). But this is the exception rather than the
rule. It is in their character of prophets that Judas
and Silas exhort and confirm the brethren. And,
what is of special interest in reference to the prophecies
uttered over Timothy, we find a group of prophets
having special influence in the selection and ordination
of Apostolic evangelists. “And as they ministered to
the Lord, and fasted, the Holy Ghost said, Separate Me
Barnabas and Saul, for the work whereunto I have
called them. Then when they had fasted and prayed
and laid their hands on them, they sent them away”
(xiii. 2, 3).
We see, therefore, that these New Testament prophets
were not a regularly constituted order, like apostles,
with whom they are joined both in the First Epistle to
the Corinthians (xii. 28) and in that to the Ephesians
(iv. 11). Yet they have this in common with apostles,
that the work of both lies rather in founding Churches
than in governing them. They have to convert and
edify rather than to rule. They might or might not
be apostles or presbyters as well as prophets; but as
prophets they were men or women (such as the
daughters of Philip) on whom a special gift of the Holy
Spirit had been conferred: and this gift enabled them
to understand and expound Divine mysteries with
inspired authority, and at times also to foretell the
future.
So long as we bear these characteristics in mind, it
matters little how we answer the question as to who
it was that uttered the prophecies over Timothy at the
time of his ordination. It may have been St. Paul and
the presbyters who laid their hands upon him, and who
on this occasion at any rate were endowed with the
spirit of prophecy. Or it may have been that besides
the presbyters there were prophets also present, who,
at this solemn ceremony, exercised their gift of inspiration.
The former seems more probable. It is clear
from chap. iv. 14, that prophecy and imposition of
hands were two concomitant acts by means of which
spiritual grace was bestowed upon Timothy; and it is
more reasonable to suppose that these two instrumental
acts were performed by the same group of persons,
than that one group prophesied, while another laid their
hands on the young minister’s head.
This gift of prophecy, St. Paul tells the Corinthians
(1 Cor. xiv.), was one specially to be desired; and
evidently it was by no means a rare one in the primitive
Church. As we might expect, it was most frequently
exercised in the public services of the congregation.
“When ye come together, each one hath a psalm, hath
a teaching, hath a revelation, hath a tongue, hath an
interpretation.... Let the prophets speak by two or
three, and let the others discern. But if a revelation
be made to another sitting by, let the first keep silence.
For ye all can prophesy one by one, that all may learn
and all may be comforted; and the spirits of the prophets
are subject to the prophets.” The chief object of
the gift, therefore, was instruction and consolation, for
the conversion of unbelievers (24, 25), and for the
building up of the faithful.
But we shall probably be right in making a distinction
between the prophesying which frequently took
place in the first Christian congregations, and those
special interventions of the Holy Spirit of which we
read occasionally. In these latter cases it is not so
much spiritual instruction in an inspired form that is
communicated, as a revelation of God’s will with regard
to some particular course of action. Such was the
case when Paul and Silas were “forbidden of the Holy
Ghost to speak the word in Asia,” and when “they
assayed to go into Bithynia, and the Spirit of Jesus
suffered them not:” or when on his voyage to Rome
Paul was assured that he would stand before Cæsar,
and that God had given him the lives of all those who
sailed with him.Acts xvi. 6, 7, xxvii. 24; comp. xviii. 9, xx. 23, xxi. 4, 11, xxii.
17–21.
Some have supposed that the Revelation of St. John
was intended to mark the close of New Testament
prophecy and to protect the Church against unwarrantable
attempts at prophecy until the return of Christ to
judge the world. This view would be more probable
if the later date for the Apocalypse could be established.
But if, as is far more probable, the Revelation was
written c. A.D. 68, it is hardly likely that St. John,
during the lifetime of Apostles, would think of taking
any such decisive step. In his First Epistle, written
probably fifteen or twenty years after the Revelation,
he gives a test for distinguishing true from false
prophets (iv. 1–4); and this he would not have done,
if he had believed that all true prophecy had ceased.
In the newly discovered “Doctrine of the Twelve
Apostles” we find prophets among the ministers of the
Church, just as in the Epistles to the Corinthians,
Ephesians, and Philippians. The date of this interesting
treatise has yet to be ascertained; but it seems to
belong to the period between the Epistles of St. Paul
and those of Ignatius. We may safely place it between
the writings of St. Paul and those of Justin Martyr.
In the Epistle to the Corinthians (1 Cor. xii. 28) we
have “First apostles, secondly prophets, thirdly
teachers, then” those who had special gifts, such as
healing or speaking with tongues. In Ephes. iv. 11 we
are told that Christ “gave some to be apostles; and
some evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers.”
The Epistle to the Philippians is addressed “to all the
saints in Christ Jesus which are at Philippi, with the
bishops and deacons,” where the plural shows that
“bishop” cannot be used in the later diocesan sense;
otherwise there would be only one bishop at Philippi.
Prophets, therefore, in St. Paul’s time are a common and
important branch of the ministry. They rank next to
apostles, and a single congregation may possess several
of them. In Ignatius and later writers the ministers who
are so conspicuous in the Acts and in St. Paul’s Epistles
disappear, and their place is taken by other ministers
whose offices, at any rate in their later forms, are scarcely
found in the New Testament at all. These are the
bishops, presbyters, and deacons; to whom were soon
added a number of subordinate officials, such as readers,
exorcists, and the like. The ministry, as we find it in
the “Doctrine of the Twelve Apostles,” is in a state of
transition from the Apostolic to the latter stage. As in
the time of St. Paul we have both itinerant and local
ministers; the itinerant ministers being chiefly apostles
and prophets, whose functions do not seem to be
marked off from one another very distinctly; and the
local ministry consisting of two orders only, bishops
and deacons, as in the address to the Church of Philippi.
When we reach the Epistles of Ignatius and other
documents of a date later than A.D. 110, we lose
distinct traces of these itinerant apostles and prophets.
The title “Apostle” is becoming confined to St. Paul
and the Twelve, and the title of “Prophet” to the Old
Testament prophets.
The gradual cessation or discredit of the function
of the Christian prophet is thoroughly intelligible.
Possibly the spiritual gift which rendered it possible
was withdrawn from the Church. In any case the
extravagances of enthusiasts who deluded themselves
into the belief that they possessed the gift, or of
impostors who deliberately assumed it, would bring
the office into suspicion and disrepute. Such things
were possible even in Apostolic times, for both St.
Paul and St. John give cautions about it, and directions
for dealing with the abuse and the false assumption of
prophecy. In the next century the eccentric delusions
of Montanus and his followers, and their vehement
attempts to force their supposed revelations upon the
whole Church, completed the discredit of all profession
to prophetical power. This discredit has been intensified
from time to time whenever such professions have
been renewed; as, for example, by the extravagances
of the Zwickau Prophets or Abecedarians in Luther’s
time, or of the Irvingites in our own day. Since the
death of St. John and the close of the Canon, Christians
have sought for illumination in the written word of
Scripture rather than in the utterances of prophets.
It is there that each one of us may find “the prophecies
that went before on” us, exhorting us and enabling us
to “war the good warfare, holding faith and a good
conscience.” There will always be those who crave
for something more definite and personal; who long
for, and perhaps create for themselves and believe in,
some living authority to whom they can perpetually
appeal. Scripture seems to them unsatisfying, and
they erect for themselves an infallible pope, or a spiritual
director, whose word is to be to them as the inspired
utterances of a prophet. But we have to fall back on
our own consciences at last: and whether we take
Scripture or some other authority as our infallible
guide, the responsibility of the choice still rests with
ourselves. If a man will not hear Christ and His
Apostles, neither will he be persuaded though a prophet
was granted to him. If we believe not their writings,
how shall we believe his words?
CHAPTER VII.
THE PUNISHMENT OF HYMENÆUS AND ALEXANDER.—DELIVERING
TO SATAN AN EXCEPTIONAL
INSTRUMENT OF PURIFICATION.—THE
PERSONALITY OF SATAN.
“Holding faith and a good conscience; which some having thrust
from them made shipwreck: of whom is Hymenæus and Alexander;
whom I delivered unto Satan, that they might be taught not to
blaspheme.”—1 Tim. i. 19, 20.
In the preceding discourse one of the special charismata
which distinguish the Church of the Apostolic
age was considered,—the gift of prophecy. It seems
to have been an exceptional boon to enable the first
Christians to perform very exceptional work. On
the present occasion we have to consider a very
different subject—the heavy penalty inflicted on two
grievous offenders. This again would seem to be
something exceptional. And the special gift and the
special punishment have this much in common, that
both of them were extraordinary means for promoting
and preserving the holiness of the Church. The one
existed for the edification, the other for the purification,
of the members of the Christian community.
The necessity of strict discipline both for the individual
and for the community had been declared by
Christ from the outset. The eye that caused offence
was to be plucked out, the hand and the foot that
caused offence were to be cut off, and the hardened
offender who refused to listen to the solemn remonstrances
of the congregation was to be treated as a
heathen and an outcast. The experience of the
primitive Church had proved the wisdom of this. The
fall of Judas had shown that the Apostolic band itself
was not secure from evil of the very worst kind. The
parent Church of Jerusalem was no sooner founded
than a dark stain was brought upon it by the conduct
of two of its members. In the very first glow of
its youthful enthusiasm Ananias and Sapphira conspired
together to pervert the general unselfishness
to their own selfish end, by attempting to gain the
credit for equal generosity with the rest, while keeping
back something for themselves. The Church of
Corinth was scarcely five years old, and the Apostle
had been absent from it only about three years, when
he learnt that in this Christian community, the firstfruits
of the heathen world, a sin which even the
heathen regarded as a monstrous pollution had been
committed, and that the congregation were glorying
in it. Christians were boasting that the incestuous
union of a man with his father’s wife during his
father’s lifetime was a splendid illustration of Christian
liberty. No stronger proof of the dangers of lax
discipline could have been given. In the verses before
us we have instances of similar peril on the doctrinal
side. And in the insolent opposition which Diotrephes
offered to St. John we have an illustration of the
dangers of insubordination. If the Christian Church
was to be saved from speedy collapse, strict discipline
in morals, in doctrine, and in government, was plainly
necessary.
The punishment of the incestuous person at Corinth
should be placed side by side with the punishment of
Hymenæus and Alexander, as recorded here. The
two cases mutually explain one another. In each of
them there occurs the remarkable formula of delivering
or handing over to Satan. The meaning of it is not
indisputable, and in the main two views are held
respecting it. Some interpret it as being merely a
synonym for excommunication. Others maintain
that it indicates a much more exceptional penalty,
which might or might not accompany excommunication.
1. On the one hand it is argued that the expression
“deliver unto Satan” is a very intelligible periphrasis
for “excommunicate.” Excommunication involved
“exclusion from all Christian fellowship, and consequently
banishment to the society of those among
whom Satan dwelt, and from which the offender had
publicly severed
himself.”Dr. David Brown in Schaff’s Popular Commentary, iii., p. 180.
It is admitted that “handing
over to Satan” is strong language to use in order
to express ejection from the congregation and exclusion
from all acts of worship, but it is thought that the
acuteness of the crisis makes the strength of language
intelligible.
2. But the strength of language needs no apology,
if the “delivering unto Satan” means something extraordinary,
over and above excommunication. This,
therefore, is an advantage which the second mode of
interpreting the expression has at the outset. Excommunication
was a punishment which the congregation
itself could inflict; but this handing over to
Satan was an Apostolic act, to accomplish which the
community without the Apostle had no power. It
was a supernatural infliction of bodily infirmity, or
disease, or death, as a penalty for grievous sin. We
know this in the cases of Ananias and Sapphira and
of Elymas. The incestuous person at Corinth is probably
another instance: for “the destruction of the
flesh” seems to mean some painful malady inflicted on
that part of his nature which had been the instrument
of his fall, in order that by its chastisement the higher
part of his nature might be saved. And, if this be
correct, then we seem to be justified in assuming the
same respecting Hymenæus and Alexander. For
although nothing is said in their case respecting “the
destruction of the flesh,” yet the expression “that
they may be taught not to blaspheme,” implies something
of a similar kind. The word for “taught”
παιδευθῶσι implies discipline and chastisement,
sometimes in Classical Greek, frequently in the New
Testament, a meaning which the word “teach” also
not unfrequently has in English (Judges viii. 16). In
illustration of this it is sufficient to point to the passage
in Heb. xii., in which the writer insists that “whom the
Lord loveth He chasteneth.” Throughout the section
this very word (παιδεύειν) and its cognate
(παιδεία) are
used.Heb. xii. 5, 11; comp. 1 Cor. xi. 32; 2 Cor. vi. 9; 2 Tim. ii. 25;
Luke xxiii. 16, 22: Soph., Ajax 595; Xen., Mem. I. iii. 5.
It is, therefore, scarcely doubtful that St. Paul
delivered Hymenæus and Alexander to Satan, in order
that Satan might have power to afflict their bodies
(just as he was allowed power over the body of Job),
with a view to their spiritual amelioration. This
personal suffering, following close upon their sin and
declared by the Apostle to be a punishment for it,
would teach them to abandon it. St. Paul himself, as
he has just told us, had been a blasphemer and by a
supernatural visitation had been converted: why should
not these two follow in both respects in his steps?
Satan’s willingness to co-operate in such measures
need not surprise us. He is always ready to inflict
suffering; and the fact that suffering sometimes draws
the sufferer away from him and nearer to God, does
not deter him from inflicting it. He knows well that
suffering not unfrequently has the very opposite effect.
It hardens and exasperates some men, while it humbles
and purifies others. It makes one man say “I abhor
myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” It makes
another will to “renounce God and die.” Satan hoped
in Job’s case to be able to provoke him to “renounce
God to His face.” In the case of these two blasphemers
he would hope to induce them to blaspheme all the
more.
We may pass by the question, “In what way did
Hymenæus and Alexander blaspheme?” We can
only conjecture that it was by publicly opposing some
article of the Christian faith. But conjectures without
evidence are not very profitable. If we were certain
that the Hymenæus here mentioned with Alexander is
identical with the one who is condemned with Philetus
in 2 Tim. ii. 18 for virtually denying the resurrection,
we should have some evidence. But this identification,
although probable, is not certain. Still less certain is
the identification of the Alexander condemned here with
“Alexander the coppersmith,” who in 2 Tim. iv. 14
is said to have done the Apostle much evil. But none
of these questions is of great moment. What is of
importance to notice is the Apostolic sentence upon
the two blasphemers. And in it we have to notice
four points. (1) It is almost certainly not identical
with excommunication by the congregation, although it
very probably was accompanied by this other penalty.
(2) It is of a very extraordinary character, being a
handing over into the power of the evil one. (3) Its
object is the reformation of the offenders, while at the
same time (4) it serves as a warning to others, lest
they by similar offences should suffer so awful a
punishment. To all alike it brought home the serious
nature of such sins. Even at the cost of cutting off
the right hand, or plucking out the right eye, the
Christian community must be kept pure in doctrine
as in life.
These two passages,—the one before us, and the
one respecting the case of incest at Corinth,—are
conclusive as to St. Paul’s teaching respecting the
existence and personality of the devil. They are
supported and illustrated by a number of other
passages in his writings; as when he tells the Thessalonians
that “Satan hindered” his work, or warns
the Corinthians that “even Satan fashioneth himself
into an angel of light,” and tells them that his own
sore trouble in the flesh was, like Job’s, “a messenger
of Satan to buffet” him. Not less clear is the teaching
of St. Peter and St. John in Epistles which, with those
of St. Paul to the Corinthians, are among the best
authenticated works in ancient literature. “Your
adversary the devil as a roaring lion, walketh about,
seeking whom he may devour,” says the one: “He
that doeth sin is of the devil; for the devil sinneth
from the beginning,” says the other. And, if we need
higher authority, there is the declaration of Christ to
the malignant and unbelieving Jews. “Ye are of your
father the devil, and the lusts of your father it is your
will to do. He was a murderer from the beginning,
and stood not in the truth, because there is no truth
in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his
own: for he is a liar, and the father
thereof.”1 Thess. ii. 18; 2 Cor. xi. 14, xii. 7; 1 Pet. v. 8; 1 John iii. 8;
John viii. 44.
With
regard to this last passage, those who deny the
personal existence of Satan must maintain either
(1) that the Evangelist here attributes to Christ words
which He never used; or (2) that Christ was willing
to make use of a monstrous superstition in order to
denounce his opponents with emphasis; or (3) that
He Himself erroneously believed in the existence of
a being who was a mere figment of an unenlightened
imagination: in other words, that “the Son of God
was manifested that He might destroy the works of the
devil,” when all the while there was no devil and no
works of his to be destroyed.
The first of these views cuts at the root of all trust
in the Gospels as historical documents. Words which
imply that Satan is a person are attributed to Christ
by the Synoptists no less than by St. John; and if the
Evangelists are not to be believed in their report of
Christ’s sayings on this topic, what security have we
that they are to be believed as to their reports of the
rest of His teaching; or indeed as to anything which
they narrate? Again, how are we to account for the
very strong statements made by the Apostles themselves
respecting the evil one, if they had never heard
anything of the kind from Christ.
The second view has been adopted by Schleiermacher,
who thinks that Christ accommodated His teaching to
the ideas then prevalent among the Jews respecting
Satan without sharing them Himself. He knew that
Satan was a mere personification of the moral evil
which every man finds in his own nature and in that
of his fellow-men: but the Jews believed in the personality
of this evil principle, and He acquiesced in the
belief, not as being true, but as offering no fundamental
opposition to His teaching. But is this consistent with
the truthfulness of Christ? If a personal devil is an
empty superstition, He went out of his way to confirm
men in their belief in it. Why teach that the enemy
who sowed the tares is the devil? Why interpret the
birds that snatch away the freshly sown seed as Satan?
It would have been so easy in each case to have spoken
of impersonal temptations. Again, what motive can
Christ have had for telling His Apostles (not the
ignorant and superstitious multitude), that He Himself
had endured the repeated solicitations of a personal
tempter, who had conversed and argued with Him?
Those who, like Strauss and Renan, believe Jesus of
Nazareth to have been a mere man, would naturally
adopt the third view. In believing in the personality
of Satan Jesus merely shared the superstitions of His
age. To all those who wish to discuss with him
whether we are still Christians, Strauss declares that
“the belief in a devil is one of the most hideous sides
of the ancient Christian faith,” and that “the extent
to which this dangerous delusion still controls men’s
ideas or has been banished from them is the very thing
to regard as a measure of culture.” But at the same
time he admits that “to remove so fundamental a stone
is dangerous for the whole edifice of the Christian
faith. It was the young Goethe who remarked against
Bahrdt that if ever an idea was biblical, this one [of
the existence of a personal Satan] was
such.”Strauss, Der alte und der neue Glaube, p. 22.
And
elsewhere Strauss declares that the conception of the
Messiah and His kingdom without the antithesis of an
infernal kingdom with a personal chief is as impossible
as that of North pole without a South
pole.Herzog und Plitt, XV. p. 361.
To refuse to believe in an evil power external to
ourselves is to believe that human nature itself is
diabolical. Whence come the devilish thoughts that
vex us even at the most sacred and solemn moments?
If they do not come from the evil one and his myrmidons,
they come from ourselves:—they are our own
offspring. Such a belief might well drive us to despair.
So far from being a “hideous” element in the Christian
faith, the belief in a power, “not ourselves, that makes
for” wickedness, is a most consoling one. It has been
said that, if there were no God, we should have to
invent one: and with almost equal truth we might say
that, if there were no devil, we should have to invent
one. Without a belief in God bad men would have
little to induce them to conquer their evil passions.
Without a belief in a devil good men would have little
hope of ever being able to do so.
The passage before us supplies us with another
consoling thought with regard to this terrible adversary,
who is always invisibly plotting against us. It
is often for our own good that God allows him to have
an advantage over us. He is permitted to inflict loss
upon us through our persons and our property, as in
the case of Job, and the woman whom he bowed down
for eighteen years, in order to chasten us and teach
us that “we have not here an abiding city.” And he
is permitted even to lead us into sin, in order to save
us from spiritual pride, and to convince us that apart
from Christ and in our own strength we can do
nothing. These are not Satan’s motives, but they are
God’s motives in allowing him to be “the ruler of
this world,” and to have much power over human
affairs. Satan inflicts suffering from love of inflicting
it, and leads into sin from love of sin: but God knows
how to bring good out of evil by making the evil one
frustrate his own wiles. The devil malignantly afflicts
souls that come within his power; but the affliction
leads to those souls being “saved in the day of the
Lord.” It had that blessed effect in the case of the
incestuous person at Corinth. Whether the same is
true of Hymenæus and Alexander, there is nothing
in Scripture to tell us. It is for us to take care that
in our case the chastisements which inevitably follow
upon sin do not drive us further and further into it,
but teach us to sin no more.
CHAPTER VIII.
ELEMENTS OF CHRISTIAN WORSHIP; INTERCESSORY
PRAYER AND THANKSGIVING.—THE SOLIDARITY
OF CHRISTENDOM AND OF THE HUMAN RACE.
“I exhort, therefore, first of all, that supplications, prayers, intercessions,
thanksgivings, be made for all men: for kings and all that
are in high places; that we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all
godliness and gravity”—1 Tim. ii. 1.
The first chapter of the Epistle is more or less
introductory. It repeats what St. Paul had
already said to his beloved disciple by word of mouth,
on the subject of Christian doctrine, and the necessity
of keeping it pure. It makes a digression respecting
the Apostle’s own conversion. It reminds Timothy of
the hopeful prophecies uttered over him at his ordination;
and it points out the terrible consequences of
driving conscience from the helm and placing oneself
in antagonism to the Almighty. In this second chapter
St Paul goes on to mention in order the subjects which
led to the writing of the letter; and the very first
exhortation which he has to give is that respecting
Christian worship and the duty of intercessory prayer
and thanksgiving.
There are two things very worthy of remark in the
treatment of the subject of worship in the Pastoral
Epistles. First, these letters bring before us a more
developed form of worship than we find indicated in
the earlier writings of St. Paul. It is still very primitive,
but it has grown. And this is exactly what we
ought to expect, especially when we remember how
rapidly the Christian Church developed its powers
during the first century and a half. Secondly, the
indications of this more developed form of worship
occur only in the letters to Timothy, which deal with
the condition of things in the Church of Ephesus, a
Church which had already been founded for a considerable
time, and was in a comparatively advanced
stage of organization. Hence we are not surprised
to find in these two Epistles fragments of what appear
to be primitive liturgical forms. In the First Epistle
we have two grand doxologies, which may be the
outcome of the Apostle’s devotion at the moment, but
are quite as likely to be quotations of formulas well
known to Timothy (i. 17; vi. 15, 16). Between these
two we have what looks like a portion of a hymn in
praise of Jesus Christ, suitable for singing antiphonally
(iii. 16; comp. Pliny, Epp. x. 96): and also what may be
a baptismal exhortation (vi. 12). In the Second Epistle
we have traces of another liturgical formula (ii. 11–13).
St. Paul of course does not mean, as the A.V.
might lead us to suppose, that in all Christian worship
intercession ought to come first; still less that intercession
is the first duty of a Christian. But he does
place it first among those subjects about which he has
to give directions in this Epistle. He makes sure that
it shall not be forgotten by himself in writing to his
delegate at Ephesus; and he wishes to make sure that
it shall not be forgotten by Timothy in his ministration.
To offer prayers and thanksgivings on behalf of all
men is a duty of such high importance that the Apostle
places it first among the topics of his pastoral charge.
Was it a duty which Timothy and the congregation
committed to his care had been neglecting, or were in
serious danger of neglecting? It may well have been
so. In the difficulties of the overseer’s own personal
position, and in the varied dangers to which his little
flock were so unceasingly exposed, the claims of
others upon their united prayer and praise may sometimes
have been forgotten. When the Apostle had
left Timothy to take his place for a time in Ephesus he
had hoped to return very soon, and consequently had
given him only brief and somewhat hasty directions as
to his course of action during his absence. He had
been prevented from returning; and there was a
probability that Timothy would have to be his representative
for an indefinite period. Meanwhile the
difficulties of Timothy’s position had not diminished.
Many of his flock were much older men than himself,
and some of them had been elders in the Church of
Ephesus long before the Apostle’s beloved disciple was
placed in charge of them. Some of the leaders in the
congregation had become tainted with the Gnostic
errors with which the intellectual atmosphere of
Ephesus was charged, and were endeavouring to make
compromise and confusion between heathen lawlessness
and Christian liberty. Besides which, there was
the bitter hostility of the Jews, who regarded both
Paul and Timothy as renegades from the faith of
their ancestors, and who never lost an opportunity of
thwarting and reviling them. Above all there was the
ever-present danger of heathenism, which confronted
the Christians every time they left the shelter of their
own houses. In the city which counted it as its chief
glory that it was the “Temple-keeper of the great
Artemis” (Acts xix. 35), every street through which
the Christians walked, and every heathen house which
they entered, was full of pagan abominations; to say
nothing of the magnificent temples, beautiful groves,
and seductive idolatrous rites, which were among the
main features that attracted such motley crowds to
Ephesus. Amid difficulties and perils such as these,
it would not be wonderful if Timothy and those committed
to his care had been somewhat oblivious of the
fact that “behind the mountains also there are people;”
that beyond the narrow limits of their contracted
horizon there were interests as weighty as their own—Christians
who were as dear to God as themselves,
whose needs were as great as their own, and to whom
the Lord had been equally gracious; and moreover
countless hosts of heathen, who also were God’s
children, needing His help and receiving His blessings;
for all of whom, as well as for themselves, the Church
in Ephesus was bound to offer prayer and thanksgiving.
But there is no need to assume that Timothy, and
those committed to his care, had been specially neglectful
of this duty. To keep clearly in view our responsibilities
towards the whole human race, or even towards
the whole Church, is so difficult a thing for all of us,
that the prominent place which St. Paul gives to the
obligation to offer prayers and thanksgivings for all
men is quite intelligible, without the supposition that
the disciple whom he addresses was more in need of
such a charge than other ministers in the Churches
under St. Paul’s care.
The Apostle uses three different words for prayer,
the second of which is a general term and covers all
kinds of prayer to God, and the first a still more
general term, including petitions addressed to man.
Either of the first two would embrace the third, which
indicates a bold and earnest approach to the Almighty
to implore some great benefit. None of the three words
necessarily means intercession in the sense of prayer
on behalf of others. This idea comes from the context.
St. Paul says plainly that it is prayers and thanksgivings
“for all men” that he desires to have made:
and in all probability he did not carefully distinguish
in his mind the shades of meaning which are proper
to the three terms which he uses. Whatever various
kinds of supplication there may be which are offered
by man at the throne of grace, he urges that the whole
human race are to have the benefit of them. Obviously,
as Chrysostom long ago pointed out, we cannot limit
the Apostle’s “all men” to all believers. Directly he
enters into detail he mentions “kings and all that are
in high place;” and in St. Paul’s day not a single king,
and we may almost say not a single person in high
place, was a believer. The scope of a Christian’s
desires and gratitude, when he appears before the Lord,
must have no narrower limit than that which embraces
the whole human race. This important principle, the
Apostle charges his representative, must be exhibited
in the public worship of the Church in Ephesus.
The solidarity of the whole body of Christians, however
distant from one another in space and time,
however different from one another in nationality, in
discipline, and even in creed, is a magnificent fact, of
which we all of us need from time to time to be
reminded, and which, even when we are reminded of
it, we find it somewhat difficult to grasp. Members of
sects that we never heard of, dwelling in remote regions
of which we do not even know the names, are nevertheless
united to us by the eternal ties of a common
baptism and a common belief in God and in Jesus
Christ. The eastern sectarian in the wilds of Asia,
and the western sectarian in the backwoods of North
America, are members of Christ and our brethren; and
as such have spiritual interests identical with our own,
for which it is not only our duty but our advantage
to pray. “Whether one member suffereth, all the
members suffer with it; or one member is honoured,
all the members rejoice with it.” The ties which bind
Christians to one another are at once so subtle and so
real, that it is impossible for one Christian to remain
unaffected by the progress or retrogression of any
other. Therefore, not only does the law of Christian
charity require us to aid all our fellow-Christians by
praying for them, but the law of self-interest leads us
to do so also; for their advance will assuredly help us
forward, and their relapse will assuredly keep us back.
All this is plain matter of fact, revealed to us by Christ
and His apostles, and confirmed by our own experience,
so far as our feeble powers of observation are
able to supply a test. Nevertheless, it is a fact of such
enormous proportions (even without taking into account
our close relationship with those who have passed
away from this world), that even with our best efforts
we fail to realize it in its immensity.
What shall we say, then, about the difficulty of
realizing the solidarity of the whole human race? For
they also are God’s offspring, and as such are of one
family with ourselves. If it is hard to remember that
the welfare of the humblest member of a remote and
obscure community in Christendom intimately concerns
ourselves, how shall we keep in view the fact that we
have both interests and obligations in reference to the
wildest and most degraded heathens in the heart of
Africa or in the islands of the Pacific? Here is a fact
on a far more stupendous scale; for in the population
of the globe, those who are not even in name Christians,
outnumber us by at least three to one. And yet let us
never forget that our interest in these countless multitudes,
whom we have never seen and never shall see
in this life, is not a mere graceful sentiment or empty
flourish of rhetoric, but a sober and solid fact. The
hackneyed phrase, “a man and a brother,” represents
a vital truth. Every human being is one of our
brethren, and, whether we like the responsibility or
not, we are still our “brother’s keeper.” In our keeping,
to a very real extent, lie the supreme issues of his
spiritual life, and we have to look to it that we discharge
our trust faithfully. We read with horror, and it may
be with compassion, of the monstrous outrages committed
by savage chiefs upon their subjects, their wives,
or their enemies. We forget that the guilt of these
things may lie partly at our door, because we have not
done our part in helping forward civilizing influences
which would have prevented such horrors, above all
because we have not prayed as we ought for those who
commit them. There are few of us who have not some
opportunities of giving assistance in various ways to
missionary enterprise and humanizing efforts. But
all of us can at least pray for God’s blessing upon such
things, and for His mercy upon those who are in need
of it. Of those who, having nothing else to give, give
their struggles after holiness and their prayers for their
fellow-men, the blessed commendation stands written,
“They have done what they could.”
“For kings and all that are in high place.” It is
quite a mistake to suppose that “kings” here means
the Roman Emperors. This has been asserted, and
from this misinterpretation has been deduced the
erroneous conclusion that the letter must have been
written at a time when it was customary for the Emperor
to associate another prince with him in the empire, with
a view to securing the succession. As Hadrian was
the first to do this, and that near to the close of his
reign, this letter (it is urged) cannot be earlier than
A.D. 138. But this interpretation is impossible, for
“kings” in the Greek has no article. Had the writer
meant the two reigning Emperors, whether Hadrian
and Antoninus, or M. Aurelius and Verus, he would
inevitably have written “for the kings and for all in
high place.” The expression “for kings,” obviously
means “for monarchs of all descriptions,” including the
Roman Emperor, but including many other potentates
also. Such persons, as having the heaviest responsibilities
and the greatest power of doing good and evil,
have an especial claim upon the prayers of Christians.
It gives us a striking illustration of the transforming
powers of Christianity when we think of St. Paul giving
urgent directions that among the persons to be remembered
first in the intercessions of the Church are Nero
and the men whom he put “in high place,” such as
Otho and Vitellius, who afterwards became Emperor:
and this, too, after Nero’s peculiarly cruel and wanton
persecution of the Christians A.D. 64. How firmly this
beautiful practice became established among Christians,
is shown from their writings in the second and third
centuries. Tertullian, who lived through the reigns of
such monsters as Commodus and Elagabalus, who
remembered the persecution under M. Aurelius, and
witnessed that under Septimius Severus, can nevertheless
write thus of the Emperor of Rome: “A Christian
is the enemy of no one, least of all of the Emperor,
whom he knows to have been appointed by his God,
and whom he therefore of necessity loves, and reverences,
and honours, and desires his well-being, with
that of the whole Roman Empire, so long as the world
shall stand; for it shall last as long. To the Emperor,
therefore, we render such homage as is lawful for us
and good for him, as the human being who comes next
to God, and is what he is by God’s decree, and to God
alone is inferior.... And so we sacrifice also for the
well-being of the Emperor; but to our God and his;
but in the way that God has ordained, with a prayer
that is pure. For God, the Creator of the universe,
has no need of odours or of
blood.”Ad Scapulam, ii.
In another
passage Tertullian anticipates the objection that
Christians pray for the Emperor, in order to curry
favour with the Roman government and thus escape
persecution. He says that the heathen have only to
look into the Scriptures, which to Christians are the
voice of God, and see that to pray for their enemies and
to pray for those in authority is a fundamental rule
with Christians. And he quotes the passage before
us.Apol., xxxi.
But he appears to misunderstand the concluding words
of the Apostle’s injunction,—“that we may lead a
tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and gravity.”
Tertullian understands this as a reason for praying for
kings and rulers; because they are the preservers of
the public peace, and any disturbance in the empire
will necessarily affect the Christians as well as other
subjects,—which is giving a rather narrow and selfish
motive for this great duty. “That we may lead a
tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and gravity,” is
the object and consequence, not of our praying for kings
and rulers in particular, but of our offering prayers
and thanksgivings on behalf of all men.
When this most pressing obligation is duly discharged,
then, and only then, can we hope with tranquil
consciences to be able to live Christian lives in
retirement from the rivalries and jealousies and
squabbles of the world. Only in the attitude of mind
which makes us pray and give thanks for our fellow-men
is the tranquillity of a godly life possible. The
enemies of Christian peace and quietness are anxiety
and strife. Are we anxious about the well-being of
those near and dear to us, or of those whose interests
are bound up with our own? Let us pray for them.
Have we grave misgivings respecting the course which
events are taking in Church, or in State, or in any of
the smaller societies to which we belong? Let us offer
supplications and intercessions on behalf of all concerned
in them. Prayer offered in faith to the throne
of grace will calm our anxiety, because it will assure
us that all is in God’s hand, and that in His own good
time He will bring good out of the evil. Are we at
strife with our neighbours, and is this a constant source
of disturbance? Let us pray for them. Fervent and
frequent prayers for those who are hostile to us will
certainly secure this much,—that we ourselves become
more wary about giving provocation; and this will
go a long way towards bringing the attainment of our
desire for the entire cessation of the strife. Is there
any one to whom we have taken a strong aversion,
whose very presence is a trial to us, whose every gesture
and every tone irritates us, and the sight of whose
handwriting makes us shiver, because of its disturbing
associations? Let us pray for him. Sooner or later
dislike must give way to prayer. It is impossible to
go on taking a real interest in the welfare of another,
and at the same time to go on detesting him. And if
our prayers for his welfare are genuine, a real interest
in it there must be. Is there any one of whom we are
jealous? Of whose popularity, so dangerous to our
own, we are envious? Whose success—quite undeserved
success, as it seems to us—disgusts and
frightens us? Whose mishaps and failures, nay even
whose faults and misdeeds, give us pleasure and satisfaction?
Let us thank God for the favour which He
bestows upon this man. Let us praise our heavenly
Father for having in His wisdom and His justice given
to another of His children what He denies to us; and
let us pray Him to keep this other from abusing His
gifts.
Yes, let us never forget that not only prayers but
thanksgivings are to be offered for all men. He who
is so good to the whole Church, of which we are
members, and to the great human family to which we
belong, certainly has claim upon the gratitude of every
human being, and especially of every Christian. His
bounty is not given by measure or by merit. He
maketh His sun to shine upon the evil and the good,
and sendeth His rain upon the just and the unjust: and
shall we pick and choose as to what we will thank Him
for, and what not? The sister who loves her erring
or her half-witted brother is grateful to her father for
the care which he bestows upon his graceless and his
useless son. And shall we not give thanks to our
heavenly Father for the benefits which He bestows on
the countless multitudes whose interests are so closely
interwoven with our own? Benefits bestowed upon
any human being are an answer to our prayers, and
as such we are bound to give thanks for them. How
much more grateful shall we be, when we are able to
look on them as benefits bestowed upon those whom
we love!
This is the cause of so much of our failure in prayer.
We do not couple our prayers with thanksgiving; or
at any rate our thanksgivings are far less hearty than
our prayers. We give thanks for benefits received
by ourselves: we forget to give thanks “for all men.”
Above all, we forget that the truest gratitude is shown,
not in words or feelings, but in conduct. We should
send good deeds after good words to heaven. Not that
our ingratitude provokes God to withhold His gifts;
but that it does render us less capable of receiving
them. For the sake of others no less than for ourselves
let us remember the Apostle’s charge that
“thanksgivings be made for all men.” We cannot
give plenty and prosperity to the nations of the earth.
We cannot bestow on them peace and tranquillity.
We cannot bring them out of darkness to God’s
glorious light. We cannot raise them from impurity
to holiness. We can only do a little, a very little,
towards these great ends. But one thing we can do.
We can at least thank Him who has already bestowed
some, and is preparing to bestow others, of these
blessings. We can praise Him for the end towards
which He will have all things work.—“He willeth that
all men should be saved” (ver. 4), “that God may be
all in all.”
CHAPTER IX.
BEHAVIOUR IN CHRISTIAN WORSHIP: MEN’S ATTITUDE
OF BODY AND MIND: WOMEN’S ATTIRE
AND ORNAMENT.
“I desire, therefore, that the men pray in every place, lifting up
holy hands, without wrath and disputing. In like manner, that
women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness
and sobriety; not with braided hair, and gold or pearls or costly
raiment; but (which becometh women professing godliness) through
good works. Let a woman learn in quietness with all subjection.
But I permit not a woman to teach, nor to have dominion over a man,
but to be in quietness.”—1 Tim. ii. 8–12.
In the preceding verses of this chapter, St. Paul has
been insisting on the duty of unselfishness in our
devotions. Our prayers and thanksgivings are not to
be bounded in their scope by our own personal interests,
but are to include the whole human race; and for this
obvious and sufficient reason,—that in using such
devotions we know that our desires are in harmony
with the mind of God, “who willeth that all men
should be saved, and come to the knowledge of the
truth.” Having thus laid down the principles which
are to guide Christian congregations in the subject-matter
of their prayers and thanksgivings, he passes on
now to give some directions respecting the behaviour of
men and women, when they meet together for common
worship of the one God and the one Mediator between
God and man, Christ Jesus.
There is no reasonable doubt (although the point
has been disputed) that St. Paul is here speaking of
public worship in the congregation; the whole context
implies it. Some of the directions would be scarcely
intelligible, if we were to suppose that the Apostle is
thinking of private devotions, or even of family prayer
in Christian households. And we are not to suppose
that he is indirectly finding fault with other forms of
worship, Jewish or heathen. He is merely laying
down certain principles which are to guide Christians,
whether at Ephesus or elsewhere, in the conduct of
public service. Thus there is no special emphasis on
“in every place,” as if the meaning were, “Our ways
are not like those of the Jews; for they were not
allowed to sacrifice and perform their services anywhere,
but assembling from all parts of the world were
bound to perform all their worship in the temple. For
as Christ commanded us to pray for all men, because
He died for all men, so it is good to pray
everywhere.”So Chrysostom in loco: but this is an exaggeration respecting
Jewish limitations.
Such an antithesis between Jewish and Christian
worship, even if it were true, would not be in place
here. Every place is a place of private prayer to both
Jew and Christian alike: but not every place is a
place of public prayer to the Christian any more than
to the Jew.See Clement of Rome, Cor. xli.
Moreover, the Greek shows plainly that
the emphasis is not on “in every place,” but on “pray.”
Wherever there may be a customary “house of prayer,”
whether in Ephesus or anywhere else, the Apostle
desires that prayers should be offered publicly by the
men in the congregation. After “pray,” the emphasis
falls on “the men,” public prayer is to be made, and it
is to be conducted by the men and not by the women
in the congregation.
It is evident from this passage, as from 1 Cor. xiv.,
that in this primitive Christian worship great freedom
was allowed. There is no Bishop, President, or Elder,
to whom the right of leading the service or uttering the
prayers and thanksgivings is reserved. This duty and
privilege is shared by all the males alike. In the
recently discovered Doctrine of the Twelve Apostles
nothing is said as to who is to offer the prayers, of
which certain forms are given. It is merely stated that
in addition to these forms extempore prayer may be
offered by “the prophets.” And Justin Martyr mentions
that a similar privilege was allowed to “the
president” of the congregation according to his
ability.Didache, x. 7; Just. Mart., Apol., 1. lxvii. Justin probably
uses the term “president” ὁ προεστώς in order to be intelligible to
heathen readers.
Thus we seem to trace a gradual increase of strictness,
a development of ecclesiastical order, very natural under
the circumstances. First, all the men in the congregation
are allowed to conduct public worship, as here and
in 1 Corinthians. Then, the right of adding to the
prescribed forms is restricted to the prophets, as in the
Didache. Next, this right is reserved to the presiding
minister, as in Justin Martyr. And lastly, free prayer
is abolished altogether. We need not assume that precisely
this development took place in all the Churches;
but that something analogous took place in nearly all.
Nor need we assume that the development was simultaneous:
while one Church was at one stage of the
process, another was more advanced, and a third less
so. Again, we may conjecture that forms of prayer
gradually increased in number, and in extent, and in
stringency. But in the directions here given to
Timothy we are at the beginning of the development.
“Lifting up holy hands.” Here again we need not
suspect any polemical purpose. St. Paul is not insinuating
that, when Gnostics or heathen lift up their
hands in prayer, their hands are not holy. Just as
every Christian is ideally a saint, so every hand that is
lifted up in prayer is holy. In thus stating the ideal,
the Apostle inculcates the realization of it. There is a
monstrous incongruity in one who comes red-handed
from the commission of a sin, lifting up the very
members which witness against him, in order to implore
a blessing from the God whom he has outraged.
The same idea is expressed in more general terms
by St. Peter: “Like as He which called you is holy,
be ye yourselves also holy in all manner of living;
because it is written, ye shall be holy; for I am holy”
(1 Pet. i. 15, 16). In a passage more closely parallel
to this, Clement of Rome says, “Let us therefore
approach Him in holiness of soul, lifting up pure and
undefiled hands unto Him, with love towards our gentle
and compassionate Father who made us an elect portion
unto Himself” (Cor. xxix). And Tertullian urges that
“a defiled spirit cannot be recognized by the Holy
Spirit” (De Orat., xiii). Nowhere else in the New
Testament do we read of this attitude of lifting up the
hands during prayer. But to this day it is common
in the East. Solomon at the dedication of the temple
“stood before the altar of the Lord in the presence of
all the congregation of Israel, and spread forth his hands
toward heaven” (1 Kings viii. 22); and the Psalmist
repeatedly speaks of “lifting up the hands” in worship
(xxviii. 2; lxiii. 4; cxxxiv. 2). Clement of Alexandria
seems to have regarded it as the ideal attitude in prayer,
as symbolizing the desire of the body to abstract itself
from the earth, following the eagerness of the spirit in
yearning for heavenly things.Strom., VII. vii.
Tertullian, on the
other hand, suggests that the arms are spread out in
prayer in memory of the crucifixion, and directs that
they should be extended, but only slightly raised, an
attitude which is more in harmony with a humble
spirit: and in another place he says that the Christian
by his very posture in prayer is ready for every infliction.
He asserts that the Jews in his day did not raise
the hands in prayer, and characteristically gives as a
reason that they were stained with the blood of the
Prophets and of Christ. With evident reference to this
passage, he says that Christian hands must be lifted up
pure from falsehood, murder, and all other sins of
which the hands can be the
instruments.De Orat., xiii., xiv., xvii.; Apol. xxx.; Comp. Adv. Jud., x.
Ancient
Christian monuments of the earliest age frequently
represent the faithful as standing with raised hands to
pray. Eusebius tells us that Constantine had himself
represented in this attitude on his coins, “looking
upwards, stretching up toward God, like one
praying.”Vit. Const., IV. xv. 1.
Of course this does not mean that kneeling was unusual
or irregular; there is plenty of evidence to the contrary.
But the attitude here commended by St. Paul was very
ancient when he wrote, and has continued in some
parts of the world ever since. Like so many other
things in natural religion and in Judaism, it received
a new and intensified meaning when it was adopted
among the usages of the Christian Church.
“Without wrath and disputing:” that is, in the
spirit of Christian peace and trust. Ill-will and misgiving
respecting one another are incompatible with
united prayer to our common Father. The atmosphere
of controversy is not congenial to devotion. Christ
Himself has told us to be reconciled to our brother
before presuming to offer our gift on the altar. In a
similar spirit St. Paul directs that those who are to
conduct public service in the sanctuary must do so
without angry feelings or mutual distrust. In the
Pastoral Epistles warnings against quarrelsome conduct
are frequent; and the experience of every one of us tells
us how necessary they are. The bishop is charged to
be “no brawler, no striker; but gentle, not contentious.”
The deacons must not be “double-tongued.” Women
must not be “slanderers.” Young widows have to be
on their guard against being “tattlers and busybodies.”
Timothy is charged to “follow after ... love, patience,
meekness,” and is reminded that “the Lord’s servant
must not strive, but be gentle towards all, apt to teach,
forbearing, in meekness correcting them that oppose
themselves.” Titus again is told that a bishop must
be “not self-willed, not soon angry,” “no brawler, no
striker,” that the aged women must not be “slanderers,”
that all men are to be put in mind “to speak evil of no
man, not to be contentious, to be gentle, showing all
meekness toward all men.”1 Tim. iii. 3, 8, 11; v. 13; vi. 11; 2 Tim. ii. 24; Tit. i. 7; ii. 3;
iii. 2.
There is no need to
assume that that age, or that those Churches, had any
special need of warnings of this kind. All ages and all
Churches need them. To keep one’s tongue and one’s
temper in due order is to all of us one of the most
constant and necessary duties of the Christian life;
and the neglect cannot fail to be disastrous to the
reality and efficacy of our devotions. Those who have
ill-will and strife in their hearts cannot unite to much
purpose in common thanksgiving and prayer.
And just as the men have to take care that their
attitude of body and mind is such as befits the dignity
of public worship, in like manner the women also have
to take care that their presence in the congregation does
not appear incongruous. They must come in seemly
attire and with seemly behaviour. Everything which
might divert attention from the service to themselves
must be avoided. Modesty and simplicity must at all
times be the characteristics of a Christian woman’s dress
and bearing; but at no time is this more necessary
than in the public services of the Church. Excessive
adornment, out of place at all times, is grievously
offensive there. It gives a flat contradiction to the
profession of humility which is involved in taking part
in common worship, and to that natural sobriety which
is a woman’s fairest ornament and best protection.
Both reverence and self-reverence are injured by it.
Moreover, it may easily be a cause of offence to others,
by provoking jealousy or admiration of the creature,
where all ought to be absorbed in the worship of the
Creator.
Here again St. Paul is putting his finger upon
dangers and evils which are not peculiar to any age
or any Church. He had spoken of the same thing
years before, to the women of Corinth, and St. Peter
utters similar warnings to Christian women throughout
all time.1 Cor. xi. 2–16; 1 Pet. iii. 3, 4.
Clement of Alexandria abounds in protests
against the extravagance in dress so common in his
own day. In one place he says; “Apelles the painter
seeing one of his pupils painting a figure thickly with
gold colour to represent Helen, said to him; ‘My lad,
you were unable to paint her beautiful, and so you
have made her rich.’ Such Helens are the ladies of the
present day; not really beautiful, but richly got up. To
these the Spirit prophesies by Zephaniah: And their
gold shall not be able to deliver them in the day of
the Lord’s anger.”Pæd., II. xiii.
Tertullian is not less emphatic.
He says that most Christian women dress like heathen,
as if modesty required nothing more than stopping short
of actual impurity. “What is the use,” he asks, “of
showing a decent and Christian simplicity in your face,
while you load the rest of your body with the dangling
absurdities of pomps and
vanities?”De Cult Fem., II. i. ix.
Chrysostom
also, in commenting on this very passage, asks the
congregation at Antioch: “And what then is modest
apparel? Such as covers them completely and decently,
and not with superfluous ornaments; for the one is
decent and the other is not. What? Do you approach
God to pray with broidered hair and ornaments of
gold? Are you come to a ball? to a marriage-feast?
to a carnival? There such costly things might have
been seasonable: here not one of them is wanted.
You are come to pray, to ask pardon for your sins, to
plead for your offences, beseeching the Lord, and
hoping to render Him propitious to you. Away with
such hypocrisy! God is not mocked. This is the
attire of actors and dancers, who live upon the stage.
Nothing of this kind becomes a modest woman, who
should be adorned with shamefastness and sobriety....
And if St. Paul” (he continues) “would remove
those things which are merely the marks of wealth, as
gold, pearls, and costly array; how much more those
things which imply studied adornment, as painting,
colouring the eyes, a mincing walk, an affected voice,
a languishing look? For he glances at all these things
in speaking of modest apparel and shamefastness.”
But there is no need to go to Corinth in the first
century, or Alexandria and Carthage in the second and
third, or Antioch in the fourth, in order to show that
the Apostle was giving no unnecessary warning in
admonishing Timothy respecting the dress and behaviour
of Christian women, especially in the public
services of the congregation. In our own age and our
own Church we can find abundant illustration. Might
not any preacher in any fashionable congregation echo
with a good deal of point the questions of Chrysostom?
“Have you come to dance or a levée? Have you
mistaken this building for a theatre?” And what
would be the language of a Chrysostom or a Paul if
he were to enter a theatre nowadays and see the
attire, I will not say of the actresses, but of the
audience? There are some rough epithets, not often
heard in polite society, which express in plain language
the condition of those women who by their manner of
life and conversation have forfeited their characters.
Preachers in earlier ages were accustomed to speak very
plainly about such things: and what the Apostle and
Chrysostom have written in their epistles and homilies
does not leave us in much doubt as to what would
have been their manner of speaking of them.
But what is urged here is sufficient. “You are
Christian women,” says St. Paul, “and the profession
which you have adopted is reverence towards God
(θεοσέβειαν). This profession you have made known
to the world. It is necessary, therefore, that those
externals of which the world takes cognisance should
not give the lie to your profession. And how is
unseemly attire, paraded at the very time of public
worship, compatible with the reverence which you have
professed? Reverence God by reverencing yourselves;
by guarding with jealous care the dignity of those
bodies with which He has endowed you. Reverence
God by coming before Him clothed both in body and
soul in fitting attire. Let your bodies be freed from
meretricious decoration. Let your souls be adorned
with abundance of good works.”
CHAPTER X.
ORIGIN OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY; VARIOUS CERTAINTIES
AND PROBABILITIES DISTINGUISHED.
“If a man seeketh the office of a bishop, he desireth a good work.
The bishop therefore must be without reproach, the husband of
one wife, temperate, sober-minded, orderly, given to hospitality, apt
to teach; no brawler, no striker; but gentle, not contentious, no
lover of money; one that ruleth well his own house, having his
children in subjection with all gravity; (but if a man knoweth not
how to rule his own house, how shall he take care of the house of
God?) not a novice, lest being puffed up he fall into the condemnation
of the devil. Moreover he must have good testimony from them that
are without; lest he fall into reproach and the snare of the devil.
Deacons in like manner must be grave, not double-tongued, not given
to much wine, not greedy of filthy lucre; holding the mystery of the
faith in a pure conscience. And let these also first be proved; then
let them serve as deacons, if they be blameless.”—1 Tim. iii. 1–10.
This passage is one of the most important in the
New Testament respecting the Christian ministry;
and in the Pastoral Epistles it does not stand alone. Of
the two classes of ministers mentioned here, one is again
touched upon in the Epistle to Titus (i. 5–9), and the
qualifications for this office, which is evidently the
superior of the two, are stated in terms not very
different from those which are used in the passage
before us. Therefore a series of expositions upon the
Pastoral Epistles would be culpably incomplete which
did not attempt to arrive at some conclusions respecting
the question of the primitive Christian ministry; a
question which at the present time is being investigated
with immense industry and interest, and with some
clear and substantial results. The time is probably
far distant when the last word will have been said
upon the subject; for it is one on which considerable
difference of opinion is not only possible but reasonable:
and those persons would seem to be least worthy
of consideration, who are most confident that they are
in possession of the whole truth on the subject. One
of the first requisites in the examination of questions
of fact is a power of accurately distinguishing what is
certain from what is not certain: and the person who
is confident that he has attained to certainty, when the
evidence in his possession does not at all warrant
certainty, is not a trustworthy guide.
It would be impossible in a discussion of moderate
length to touch upon all the points which have been
raised in connexion with this problem; but some service
will have been rendered if a few of the more important
features of the question are pointed out and classified
under the two heads just indicated, as certain or not
certain. In any scientific enquiry, whether historical
or experimental, this classification is a useful one, and
very often leads to the enlargement of the class of
certainties. When the group of certainties has been
properly investigated, and when the various items have
been placed in their proper relations to one another
and to the whole of which they are only constituent
parts, the result is likely to be a transfer of other items
from the domain of what is only probable or possible
to the domain of what is certain.
At the outset it is necessary to place a word of
caution as to what is meant, in a question of this kind,
by certainty. There are no limits to scepticism, as the
history of speculative philosophy has abundantly shown.
It is possible to question one’s own existence, and still
more possible to question the irresistible evidence of
one’s senses or the irresistible conclusions of one’s
reason. A fortiori it is possible to throw doubt upon
any historical fact. We can, if we like, classify the
assassinations of Julius Cæsar and of Cicero, and the
genuineness of the Æneid and of the Epistles to the
Corinthians, among things that are not certain. They
cannot be demonstrated like a proposition in Euclid or
an experiment in chemistry or physics. But a sceptical
criticism of this kind makes history impossible; for it
demands as a condition of certainty a kind of evidence,
and an amount of evidence, which from the nature of
the case is unattainable. Juries are directed by the
courts to treat evidence as adequate, which they would
be willing to recognize as such in matters of very
serious moment to themselves. There is a certain
amount of evidence which to a person of trained and
well-balanced mind makes a thing “practically certain:”
i.e., with this amount of evidence before him he would
confidently act on the assumption that the thing was
true.
In the question before us there are four or five things
which may with great reason be treated as practically
certain.
1. The solution of the question as to the origin of
the Christian ministry, has no practical bearing upon the
lives of Christians. For us the problem is one of historical
interest without moral import. As students of
Church History we are bound to investigate the origines
of the ministry which has been one of the chief factors
in that history: but our loyalty as members of the
Church will not be affected by the result of our investigations.
Our duty towards the constitution consisting
of bishops, priests, and deacons, which existed unchallenged
from the close of the second century to the
close of the Middle Ages, and which has existed down
to the present day in all the three great branches of the
Catholic Church, Roman, Oriental, and Anglican, is
no way affected by the question whether the constitution
of the Church during the century which separates
the writings of St. John from the writings of his
disciple’s disciple, Irenæus, was as a rule episcopal,
collegiate, or presbyterian. For a churchman who
accepts the episcopal form of government as essential to
the well-being of a Church, the enormous prescription
which that form has acquired during at least seventeen
centuries, is such ample justification, that he can afford
to be serene as to the outcome of enquiries respecting
the constitution of the various infant Churches from
A.D. 85 to A.D. 185. It makes no practical difference
either to add, or not to add, to an authority which is
already ample. To prove that the episcopal form of
government was founded by the Apostles may have been
a matter of great practical importance in the middle of
the second century. But, before that century had
closed, the practical question, if there ever was one, had
settled itself. God’s providence ordained that the
universal form of Church government should be the
episcopal form and should continue to be such; and
for us it adds little to its authority to know that the
way in which it became universal was through the
instrumentality and influence of Apostles. On the
other hand, to prove that episcopacy was established
independently of Apostolic influence would detract
very little from its accumulated authority.
2. A second point, which may be regarded as certain
with regard to this question, is, that for the period which
joins the age of Irenæus to the age of St. John, we have
not sufficient evidence to arrive at anything like proof.
The evidence has received important additions during
the present century, and still more important additions
are by no means impossible; but at present our
materials are still inadequate. And the evidence is
insufficient in two ways. First, although surprisingly
large as compared with what might have been reasonably
expected, yet in itself, the literature of this period
is fragmentary and scanty. Secondly, the dates of
some of the most important witnesses cannot as yet
be accurately determined. In many cases to be able
to fix the date of a document within twenty or thirty
years is quite sufficient: but this is a case in which
the difference of twenty years is a really serious
difference; and there is fully that amount of uncertainty
as to the date of some of the writings which are our
principal sources of information; e.g., the Doctrine of the
Twelve Apostles, the Epistles of Ignatius, the Shepherd
of Hermas and the Clementines. Here also our position
may improve. Further research may enable us
to date some of these documents accurately. But, for
the present, uncertainty about precise dates and general
scantiness of evidence compel us to admit that with
regard to many of the points connected with this
question nothing that can fairly be called proof is
possible respecting the interval which separates the
last quarter of the first century from the last quarter
of the second.
This feature of the problem is sometimes represented
by the useful metaphor that the history of the Church
just at this period “passes through a tunnel” or “runs
underground.” We are in the light of day during
most of the time covered by the New Testament; and
we are again in the light of day directly we reach the
time covered by the abundant writings of Irenæus,
Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, and others. But
during the intervening period we are, not indeed in
total darkness, but in a passage the obscurity of which
is only slightly relieved by an occasional lamp or light-hole.
Leaving this tantalizing interval, about which
the one thing that is certain is that many certainties
are not likely to be found in it, we pass on to look for
our two next certainties in the periods which precede
and follow it.
3. In the period covered by the New Testament it
is certain that the Church had officers who discharged
spiritual functions which were not discharged by
ordinary Christians; in other words a distinction was
made from the first between clergy and laity. Of this
fact the Pastoral Epistles contain abundant evidence;
and further evidence is scattered up and down the
New Testament, from the earliest document in the
volume to the last. In the First Epistle to the Thessalonians,
which is certainly the earliest Christian
writing that has come down to us, we find St. Paul
beseeching the Church of the Thessalonians “to know
them that labour among you, and are over you in the
Lord, and admonish you; and to esteem them exceeding
highly in love for their work’s sake” (v. 12, 13).
The three functions here enumerated are evidently
functions to be exercised by a few with regard to the
many: they are not duties which every one is to discharge
towards every one. In the Third Epistle of
St. John, which is certainly one of the latest, and
perhaps the very latest, of the writings contained in
the New Testament, the incident about Diotrephes
seems to show that not only ecclesiastical government,
but ecclesiastical government by a single official, was
already in existence in the Church in which Diotrephes
“loved to have the pre-eminence” (9, 10). In between
these two we have the exhortation in the Epistle to the
Hebrews: “Obey them that have the rule over you and
submit to them: for they watch in behalf of your
souls, as they that shall give account” (xiii. 17). And
directly we go outside the New Testament and look
at the Epistle of the Church of Rome to the Church of
Corinth, commonly called the First Epistle of Clement,
we find the same distinction between clergy and laity
observed. In this letter, which almost certainly was
written during the lifetime of St. John, we read that
the Apostles, “preaching everywhere in country and
town, appointed their firstfruits, when they had proved
them by the Spirit, to be bishops and deacons unto
them that should believe. And this they did in no
new fashion; for indeed it had been written concerning
bishops and deacons from very ancient times; for thus
saith the scripture in a certain place, I will appoint
their bishops in righteousness, and their deacons in
faith”—the last words being an inaccurate quotation
of the LXX. of Isa. lx. 17. And a little further on
Clement writes: “Our Apostles knew through our
Lord Jesus Christ that there would be strife over the
name of the bishop’s office. For this cause, therefore,
having received complete fore-knowledge, they appointed
the aforesaid persons, and afterwards they provided
a continuance, that if these should fall asleep, other
approved men should succeed to their ministration.
Those therefore who were appointed by them, or afterward
by other men of repute with the consent of the
whole Church, and have ministered unblamably to
the flock of Christ in lowliness of mind, peacefully and
with all modesty, and for long time have borne a good
report with all—these men we consider to be unjustly
thrust out from their ministration. For it will be no
light sin for us, if we thrust out those who have offered
the gifts of the bishop’s office unblamably and holily.
Blessed are those presbyters who have gone before,
seeing that their departure was fruitful and ripe, for
they have no fear lest any one should remove them
from their appointed place. For we see that ye have
displaced certain persons, though they were living
honourably, from the ministration which they had kept
blamelessly” (xlii., xliv.).
Three things come out very clearly from this passage,
confirming what has been found in the New Testament.
(1) There is a clear distinction made between
clergy and laity. (2) This distinction is not a temporary
arrangement, but is the basis of a permanent organization.
(3) A person who has been duly promoted to
the ranks of the clergy as a presbyter or bishop (the
two titles being here synonymous, as in the Epistle to
Titus) holds that position for life. Unless he is guilty
of some serious offence, to depose him is no light
sin.
None of these passages, either in the New Testament
or in Clement, tell us very clearly the precise
nature of the functions which the clergy, as distinct
from the laity, were to discharge; yet they indicate
that these functions were of a spiritual rather than of a
secular character, that they concerned men’s souls rather
than their bodies, and that they were connected with
religious service (λειτουργία). But the one thing which
is quite clear is this,—that the Church had, and was
always intended to have, a body of officers distinct
from the congregations to which they ministered and
over which they ruled.
4. For our fourth certainty we resort to the time
when the history of the Church returns once more to
the full light of day, in the last quarter of the second
century. Then we find two things quite clearly established,
which have continued in Christendom from that
day to this. We find a regularly organized clergy, not
only distinctly marked off from the laity, but distinctly
marked off among themselves by well defined gradations
of rank. And, secondly, we find that each local Church
is constitutionally governed by one chief officer, whose
powers are large and seldom resisted, and who universally
receives the title of bishop. To these two points
we may add a third. There is no trace of any belief,
or even suspicion, that the constitution of these local
Churches had ever been anything else. On the contrary,
the evidence (and it is considerable) points to
the conclusion that Christians in the latter part of
the second century—say A.D. 180 to 200—were fully
persuaded that the episcopal form of government had
prevailed in the different Churches from the Apostles’
time to their own. Just as in the case of the Gospels,
Irenæus and his contemporaries not only do not know
of either more or less than the four which have come
down to us, but cannot conceive of there ever being
either more or less than these four: so in the case of
Church Government, they not only represent episcopacy
as everywhere prevalent in their time, but they have
no idea that at any previous time any other form of
government prevailed. And although Irenæus, like
St. Paul and Clement of Rome, sometimes speaks of
bishops under the title of presbyter, yet it is quite
clear that there were at that time presbyters who were
not bishops and who did not possess episcopal authority.
Irenæus himself was such a presbyter, until the martyrdom
of Pothinus in the persecution of A.D. 177 created
a vacancy in the see of Lyons, which Irenæus was
then called upon to fill; and he held the see for upwards
of twenty years, from about A.D. 180 to 202.
From Irenæus and from his contemporary Dionysius,
Bishop of Corinth, we learn not only the fact that
episcopacy prevailed everywhere, but, in not a few
cases, the name of the existing bishop; and in some
cases the names of their predecessors are given up to
the times of the Apostles. Thus, in the case of the
Church of Rome, Linus the first bishop is connected
with “the two most glorious Apostles Peter and Paul”:
and, in the case of Athens, Dionysius the Areopagite
is said to have been appointed first bishop of that
Church by the Apostle Paul. This may or may not
be correct: but at least it shows that in the time of
Irenæus and Dionysius of Corinth episcopacy was
not only recognized as the universal form of Church
government, but was also believed to have prevailed
in the principal Churches from the very earliest
times.See an admirable article on the Christian ministry by Dr. Salmon
in the Expositor for July, 1887; also the present writer’s Church of
the Early Fathers, pp. 58 ff.; 92 ff.; 2nd ed. Longmans, 1887.
5. If we narrow our field and look, not at the whole
Church, but at the Churches of Asia Minor and Syria,
we may obtain yet another certainty from the obscure
period which lies between the age of the Apostles and
that of Dionysius and Irenæus. The investigations of
Lightfoot, Zahn, and Harnack have placed the genuineness
of the short Greek form of the Epistles of Ignatius
beyond reasonable dispute. Their exact date cannot
as yet be determined. The evidence is strong that
Ignatius was martyred in the reign of Trajan: and,
if that is accepted, the letters cannot be later than
A.D. 117. But even if this evidence be rejected as not
conclusive, and the letters be dated ten or twelve years
later, their testimony will still be of the utmost importance.
They prove that long before A.D. 150 episcopacy
was the recognized form of government throughout the
Churches of Asia Minor and Syria; and, as Ignatius
speaks of “the bishops that are settled in the farthest
parts of the earth (κατὰ τὰ πέρατα ὁρισθέντες)” they
prove that, according to his belief, episcopacy was the
recognized form everywhere (Ephes. iii.). This evidence
is not a little strengthened by the fact that, as all sound
critics on both sides are now agreed, the Epistles of
Ignatius were evidently not written in order to magnify
the episcopal office, or to preach up the episcopal
system. The writer’s main object is to deprecate schism
and all that might tend to schism. And in his opinion
the best way to avoid schism is to keep closely united
to the bishop. Thus, the magnifying of the episcopal
office comes about incidentally; because Ignatius takes
for granted that everywhere there is a bishop in each
Church, who is the duly appointed ruler of it, loyalty
to whom will be a security against all schismatical
tendencies.
These four or five points being regarded as established
to an extent which may reasonably be called
certainty, there remain certain other points about which
certainty is not yet possible, some of which admit of
a probable solution, while for others there is so little
evidence that we have to fall back upon mere conjecture.
Among these would be the distinctions of office, or
gradations of rank, among the clergy in the first century
or century and a half after the Ascension, the precise
functions assigned to each office, and the manner of
appointment. With regard to these questions three
positions may be assumed with a considerable amount
of probability.
1. There was a distinction made between itinerant
or missionary clergy and stationary or localized clergy.
Among the former we find apostles (who are a much
larger body than the Twelve), prophets, and evangelists.
Among the latter we have two orders, spoken of as
bishops and deacons, as here and in the Epistle to the
Philippians (i. 1) as well as in the Doctrine of the Twelve
Apostles, presbyter or elder being sometimes used as
synonymous with bishop. This distinction between
an itinerant and a stationary ministry appears in the
First Epistle to the Corinthians (xii. 28), in the Epistle
to the Ephesians (iv. 11), and perhaps also in the Acts
of the Apostles and in the Epistles of St. John. In the
Doctrine of the Twelve Apostles it is clearly marked.
2. There seems to have been a further distinction
between those who did, and those who did not, possess
supernatural prophetical gifts. The title of prophet
was commonly, but perhaps not exclusively, given to
those who possessed this gift: and the Doctrine of the
Twelve Apostles shows a great respect for prophets.
But the distinction naturally died out when these
supernatural gifts ceased to be manifested. During
the process of extinction serious difficulty arose as to
the test of a genuine prophet. Some fanatical persons
believed themselves to be prophets, and some dishonest
persons pretended to be prophets, when they were not
such. The office appears to have been extinct when
Ignatius wrote: by prophets he always means the
prophets of the Old Testament. Montanism was
probably a forlorn attempt to revive this much desired
office after the Church as a whole had decided against it.
Further discussion of the gift of prophecy in the New
Testament will be found in a previous chapter (vi.).
3. The clergy were not elected by the congregation
as its delegates or representatives, deputed to perform
functions which originally could be discharged by any
Christian. They were appointed by the Apostles and
their successors or substitutes. Where the congregation
selected or recommended candidates, as in the
case of the Seven Deacons (Acts vi. 4–6), they did
not themselves lay hands on them. The typical act
of laying on of hands was always performed by those
who were already ministers, whether apostles, prophets,
or elders. Whatever else was still open to the laity, this
act of ordaining was not. And there is good reason
for believing that the celebration of the Eucharist also
was from the first reserved to the clergy, and that all
ministers, excepting prophets, were expected to use a
prescribed form of words in celebrating it.
But, although much still remains untouched, this
discussion must draw to a close. In the ideal Church
there is no Lord’s Day or holy seasons, for all days
are the Lord’s, and all seasons are holy; there are no
places especially dedicated to God’s worship, for the
whole universe is His temple; there are no persons
especially ordained to be His ministers, for all His
people are priests and prophets. But in the Church as
it exists in a sinful world, the attempt to make all times
and all places holy ends in the desecration of all alike;
and the theory that all Christians are priests becomes
indistinguishable from the theory that none are such.
In this matter let us not try to be wiser than God,
Whose will may be discerned in His providential
guiding of His Church throughout so many centuries.
The attempt to reproduce Paradise or to anticipate
heaven in a state of society which does not possess the
conditions of Paradise or heaven, can end in nothing
but disastrous confusion.
In conclusion the following weighty words are gratefully
quoted. They come with special force from one who
does not himself belong to an Episcopalian Church.
“By our reception or denial of priesthood in the
Church, our entire view of what the Church is must
be affected and moulded. We shall either accept the
idea of a visible and organized body, within which
Christ rules by means of a ministry, sacraments, and
ordinances to which He has attached a blessing, the
fulness of which we have no right to look for except
through the channels He has ordained (and it ought to
be needless to say that this is the Presbyterian idea),
or we shall rest satisfied with the thought of the
Church as consisting of multitudes of individual souls
known to God alone, as invisible, unorganized, with
ordinances blessed because of the memories which
they awaken, but to which no promise of present
grace is tied, with, in short, no thought of a Body
of Christ in the world, but only of a spiritual and
heavenly principle ruling in the hearts and regulating
the lives of men. Conceptions of the Church so
widely different from each other cannot fail to affect in
the most vital manner the Church’s life and relation to
those around her. Yet both conceptions are the logical
and necessary result of the acceptance or denial of
the idea of a divinely appointed and still living priesthood
among men.”Professor W. Milligan, D.D., on “The Idea of the Priesthood,” in
the Expositor for July, 1888, p. 7.
CHAPTER XI.
THE APOSTLE’S RULE RESPECTING SECOND MARRIAGES;
ITS MEANING AND PRESENT OBLIGATION.
“The husband of one wife.”—1 Tim. iii. 2.
The Apostle here states, as one of the first
qualifications to be looked for in a person who
is to be ordained a bishop, that he must be “husband
of one wife.” The precise meaning of this phrase will
probably never cease to be discussed. But, although
it must be admitted that the phrase is capable of
bearing several meanings, yet it cannot be fairly
contended that the meaning is seriously doubtful. The
balance of probability is so largely in favour of one
of the meanings, that the remainder may be reasonably
set aside as having no valid ground for being supported
in competition with it.
Three passages in which the phrase occurs have to
be considered together, and these have to be compared
with a fourth. (1) There is the passage before us
about a bishop, (2) another in ver. 12 about deacons,
and (3) another in Tit. i. 6 about elders or presbyters,
whom St. Paul afterwards mentions under the title
of bishop. In these three passages we have it plainly
set forth that Timothy and Titus are to regard it as
a necessary qualification in a bishop or elder or
presbyter, and also in a deacon, that he should be a
“man of one woman” or “husband of one wife”
(μιᾶς γυναικὸς ἀνήρ). In the fourth passage (1 Tim.
v. 9) he gives as a necessary qualification of one who
is to be placed on the roll of church widows, that she
must be a “woman of one man” or “wife of one
husband” (ἑνὸς ἄνδρος γυνή). This fourth passage
is of much importance in determining the meaning
of the converse expression in the other three passages.
There are four main interpretations of the expression
in question.
1. That which the phrase at once suggests to a
modern mind,—that the person to be ordained bishop
or deacon must have only one wife and not more;
that he must not be a polygamist. According to this
interpretation, therefore, we are to understand the
Apostle to mean, that a Jew or barbarian with more
wives than one might be admitted to baptism and
become a member of the congregation, but ought not
to be admitted to the ministry. This explanation,
which at first sight looks simple and plausible, will
not bear inspection. It is quite true that polygamy
in St. Paul’s day still existed among the Jews. Justin
Martyr, in the Dialogue with Trypho, says to the Jews,
“It is better for you to follow God than your senseless
and blind teachers, who even to this day allow you
each to have four and five wives” (§ 134). But
polygamy in the Roman Empire must have been rare.
It was forbidden by Roman law, which did not allow
a man to have more than one lawful wife at a time,
and treated every simultaneous second marriage, not
only as null and void, but infamous. Where it was
practised it must have been practised secretly. It
is probable that, when St. Paul wrote to Timothy
and Titus, not a single polygamist had been converted
to the Christian faith. Polygamists were exceedingly
rare inside the Empire, and the Church had not yet
spread beyond it. Indeed, our utter ignorance as to
the way in which the primitive Church dealt with
polygamists who wished to become Christians, amounts
to something like proof that such cases were extremely
uncommon. How improbable, therefore, that St. Paul
should think it worth while to charge both Timothy
and Titus that converted polygamists must not be
admitted to the office of bishop, when there is no
likelihood that any one of them knew of a single
instance of a polygamist who had become a Christian!
On these grounds alone this interpretation of the
phrase might be safely rejected.
But these grounds do not stand alone. There is
the convincing evidence of the converse phrase, “wife
of one husband.” If men with more than one wife
were very rare in the Roman Empire, what are we
to think of women with more than one husband?
Even among the barbarians outside the Empire, such
a thing as a plurality of husbands was regarded as
monstrous. It is incredible that St. Paul could have
had any such case in his mind, when he mentioned
the qualification “wife of one husband.” Moreover,
as the question before him was one relating to
widows, this “wife of one husband” must be a person
who at the time had no husband. The phrase, therefore,
can only mean a woman who after the death of
her husband has not married again. Consequently
the converse expression, “husband of one wife,”
cannot have any reference to polygamy.
2. Far more worthy of consideration is the view that
what is aimed at in both cases is not polygamy, but
divorce. Divorce, as we know from abundant evidence,
was very frequent both among the Jews and the
Romans in the first century of the Christian era.
Among the former it provoked the special condemnation
of Christ: and one of the many influences which
Christianity had upon Roman law was to diminish the
facilities for divorce. According to Jewish practice the
husband could obtain a divorce for very trivial reasons;
and in the time of St. Paul Jewish women sometimes
took the initiative. According to Roman practice either
husband or wife could obtain a divorce very easily.
Abundant instances are on record, and that in the case
of people of high character, such as Cicero. After the
divorce either of the parties could marry again; and
often enough both of them did so; therefore in the
Roman Empire in St. Paul’s day there must have been
plenty of persons of both sexes who had been divorced
once or twice and had married again. There is nothing
improbable in the supposition that quite a sufficient
number of such persons had been converted to Christianity
to make it worth while to legislate respecting
them. They might be admitted to baptism; but they
must not be admitted to an official position in the
Church. A regulation of this kind might be all the
more necessary, because in a wealthy capital like
Ephesus it would probably be among the upper and
more influential classes that divorces would be most
frequent; and from precisely these classes, when any
of them had become Christians, officials would be
likely to be chosen. This explanation, therefore, of
the phrases “husband of one wife” and “wife of one
husband” cannot be condemned, like the first, as utterly
incredible. It has a fair amount of probability: but it
remains to be seen whether another explanation (which
really includes this one) has not a far greater amount.
3. We may pass over without much discussion the
view that the phrases are a vague way of indicating
misconduct of any kind in reference to marriage. No
doubt such misconduct was rife among the heathen,
and the Christian Church by no means escaped the
taint, as the scandals in the Church of Corinth and the
frequent warnings of the Apostles against sins of this
kind show. But when St. Paul has to speak of such
things he is not afraid to do so in language that cannot
be misunderstood. We have seen this already in the
first chapter of this Epistle; and the fifth chapters of
1 Corinthians, Galatians, and Ephesians supply other
examples. We may safely say that if St. Paul had
meant to indicate persons who had entered into illicit
unions before or after marriage, he would have used
much less ambiguous language than the phrases under
discussion.
4. There remains the view, which from the first has
been the dominant one, that these passages all refer to
second marriage after the first marriage has been dissolved
by death. A widower who has married a second wife
ought not to be admitted to the ministry; a widow who
has married a second husband ought not to be placed
on the roll of Church widows. This interpretation is
reasonable in itself, is in harmony with the context and
with what St. Paul says elsewhere about marriage, and
is confirmed by the views taken of second marriages in
the case of clergy by the early Church.
(a) The belief that St. Paul was opposed to the
ordination of persons who had contracted a second
marriage is reasonable in itself. A second marriage,
although perfectly lawful and in some cases advisable,
was so far a sign of weakness; and a double family
would in many cases be a serious hindrance to work.
The Church could not afford to enlist any but its
strongest men among its officers; and its officers must
not be hampered more than other men with domestic
cares. Moreover, the heathen certainly felt a special
respect for the univira, the woman who did not enter
into a second marriage; and there is some reason for
believing that second marriages were sometimes thought
unfitting in the case of men, e.g., in the case of certain
priests. Be that as it may, we may safely conclude
that, both by Christians and heathen, persons who
had abstained from marrying again would so far be
more respected than those who had not abstained.
(b) This interpretation is in harmony with the context.
In the passage before us the qualification which
immediately precedes the expression, “husband of one
wife,” is “without reproach”; in the Epistle to Titus
it is “blameless.” In each case the meaning seems to
be that there must be nothing in the past or present
life of the candidate, which could afterwards with any
show of reason be urged against him as inconsistent
with his office. He must be above and not below the
average of men; and therefore he must not have been
twice married.
(c) This agrees with what St. Paul says elsewhere
about marriage. His statements are clear and consistent,
and it is a mistake to suppose that there is any
want of harmony between what is said in this Epistle
and what is said to the Corinthian Church on this
subject. The Apostle strongly upholds the lawfulness
of marriage for all (1 Cor. vii. 28, 36; 1 Tim. iv. 3).
For those who are equal to it, whether single or widowed,
he considers that their remaining as they are is the
more blessed condition (1 Cor. vii. 1, 7, 8, 32, 34, 40;
1 Tim. v. 7). But so few persons are equal to this,
that it is prudent for those who desire to marry to do
so, and for those who desire to marry again to do so
(1 Cor. vii. 2, 9, 39; 1 Tim. v. 14). These being his
convictions, is it not reasonable to suppose, that in
selecting ministers for the Church he would look for
them in the class which had given proof of moral
strength by remaining unmarried or by not marrying
a second time. In an age of such boundless licentiousness
continency won admiration and respect; and a
person who had given clear evidence of such self-control
would have his moral influence thereby
increased. Few things impress barbarous and semi-barbarous
people more than to see a man having full
control over passions to which they themselves are
slaves. In the terrific odds which the infant Church
had to encounter, this was a point well worth turning
to advantage.
And here we may note St. Paul’s wisdom in giving
no preference to those who had not married at all over
those who had married only once. Had he done so,
he would have played into the hands of those heretics
who disparaged wedlock. And perhaps he had seen
something of the evils which abounded among the
celibate priests of heathenism. It is quite obvious,
that, although he in no way discourages celibacy
among the clergy, yet he assumes that among them,
as among the laity, marriage will be the rule and
abstaining the exception; so much so, that he does
not think of giving any special directions for the guidance
of a celibate bishop or a celibate
deacon.As the Dictionary of Christian Antiquities (vol. i. p. 324) has
given its sanction to the view that “St. Paul required the presbyter-bishop
to have had the experience of marriage and with at least a
preference for those who had brought up children (1 Tim. iii. 2, 4),
and extended the requirement even to the deacons of the Church
(1 Tim. iii. 11, 12),” it seems to be worth while to repeat the declaration
of Ellicott and Huther, that “the strange opinion of Bretschneider,
that μιᾶς is here the indefinite article, and that Paul meant
that a bishop should be married, hardly needed the elaborate refutation
which is accorded to it by Winer, Grammar of New Testament,
III. 18 (Eng. Tr., p. 146).” Would any Englishman ever say “a
bishop must have one wife,” when his meaning was “a bishop must
have a wife”?
5. Lastly, this interpretation of the phrases in question
is strongly confirmed by the views of leading
Christians on the subject in the first few centuries,
and by the decrees of councils; these being largely
influenced by St. Paul’s language, and therefore being
a guide as to what his words were then supposed to
mean.
Hermas, Clement of Alexandria, of course Tertullian,
and among later Fathers, Chrysostom, Epiphanius, and
Cyril, all write in disparagement of second marriages,
not as sin, but as weakness. To marry again is to
fall short of the high perfection set before us in the
Gospel constitution. Athenagoras goes so far as to
call a second marriage “respectable adultery,” and to
say that one who thus severs himself from his dead
wife is an “adulterer in disguise.” Respecting the
clergy, Origen says plainly, “Neither a bishop, nor a
presbyter, nor a deacon, nor a widow, can be twice
married.” The canons of councils are not less plain,
either as to the discouragement of second marriages
among the laity, or their incompatibility with what was
then required of the clergy. The synods of Ancyra
(Can. 19), of Neocæsarea (Can. 3 and 7), and of
Laodicea (Can. 1) subjected lay persons who married
more than once to a penalty. This penalty seems to
have varied in different Churches; but in some cases
it involved excommunication for a time. The Council
of Nicæa, on the other hand, makes it a condition that
members of the Puritan sect of Cathari are not to be
received into the Church unless they promise in writing
to communicate with those who have married a second
time (Can. 8). The Apostolic Constitutions (vi. 17) and
the so-called Apostolic Canons (17) absolutely forbid
the promotion of one who has married twice, to be a
bishop, presbyter, or deacon; and the Apostolic Constitutions
forbid the marriage of one who is already in
Holy Orders. He may marry once before he is
ordained: but if he is single at his ordination he must
remain so all his life. Of course, if his wife dies, he
is not to marry again. Even singers, readers, and
door-keepers, although they may marry after they have
been admitted to office, yet are in no case to marry a
second time or to marry a widow. And the widow of
a cleric was not allowed to marry a second time.
All these rigorous views and enactments leave little
doubt as to how the early Church understood St. Paul’s
language: viz., that one who had exhibited the weakness
of marrying a second time was not to be admitted
to the ministry. From this they drew the inference
that one who was already in orders must not be allowed
to marry a second time. And from this they drew the
further inference that entering into a marriage contract
at all was inadmissible for one who was already a
bishop, presbyter, or deacon. Marriage was not a bar
to ordination, but ordination was a bar to marriage.
Married men might become clergy, but the higher
orders of clergy might not become married.
A little thought will show that neither of these inferences
follows from St. Paul’s rule; and we have good
reason for doubting whether he would have sanctioned
either of them. The Apostle rules that those who have
shown want of moral strength in taking a second wife
are not to be ordained deacons or presbyters. But he
nowhere says or hints that, if they find in themselves a
want of moral strength of this kind after their ordination,
they are to be made to bear a burden to which
they are unequal. On the contrary, the general principle,
which he so clearly lays down, decides the case:
“If they have not continency, let them marry: for it
is better to marry than to burn.” And if this holds
good of clergy who have lost their first wives, it holds
good at least as strongly of those who were unmarried
at the time of their ordination. Those Churches,
therefore, which, like our own, allow the clergy to
marry, and even to marry a second time, after ordination,
may rightly claim to have the Apostle on their
side.
But there are Churches, and among them the Church
of England, which disregard the Apostle’s directions, in
admitting those who have been more than once married
to the diaconate, and even to the episcopate. What
defence is to be made of an apparent laxity, which
seems to amount to lawlessness? The answer is that
there is nothing to show that St. Paul is giving rules
which are to bind the Church for all time. It is quite
possible that his directions are given “by reason of the
present distress.” We do not consider ourselves
bound by the regulation, which has far higher authority
than that of a single Apostle, respecting the eating of
blood and of things strangled. The first council, at
which most of the Apostles were present, forbad the
eating of these things. It also forbad the eating of
things offered to idols. St. Paul himself led the
way in showing that this restriction is not always
binding: and the whole Church has come to disregard
the other. Why? Because in none of these cases
is the act sinful in itself. While the Jewish converts
were likely to be scandalized by seeing their fellow-Christians
eating blood, it was expedient to forbid it;
and while heathen converts were likely to think lightly
of idolatry, if they saw their fellow-Christians eating
what had been offered in sacrifice to an idol, it was
expedient to forbid it. When these dangers ceased
the reason for the enactment ceased; and the enactment
was rightly disregarded. The same principle
applies to the ordination of persons who have been
twice married. Nowadays a man is not considered
less strong than his fellows, because he has married a
second time. To refuse to ordain such a person would
be to lose a minister at a time when the need of
additional ministers is great; and this loss would be
without compensation.
And we have evidence that in the primitive Church
the Apostle’s rule about digamists was not considered
absolute. In one of his Montanist treatises Tertullian
taunts the Catholics in having even among their bishops
men who had married twice, and who did not blush
when the Pastoral Epistles were
read;De Monog., xii.
and Hippolytus,
in his fierce attack on Callistus, Bishop of Rome, states
that under him men who had been twice and thrice
married were ordained bishops, priests, and deacons.
And we know that a distinction was made in the Greek
Church between those who had married twice as
Christians, and those who had concluded the second
marriage before baptism. The latter were not excluded
from ordination. And some went so far as to say that
if the first marriage took place before baptism, and the
second afterwards, the man was to be considered as
having been married only
once.See Döllinger’s Hippolytus and Callistus (pp. 129–147 Eng.
Trans.) for a full discussion of the question.
This freedom in
interpreting the Apostle’s rule not unnaturally led to its
being, in some branches of the Church, disregarded.
St. Paul says, “Do not ordain a man who has married
more than once.” If you may say, “This man, who
has married more than once, shall be accounted as
having married only once;” you may equally well say
“The Apostle’s rule was a temporary one, and we have
the right to judge of its suitableness to our times and
to particular circumstances.” We may feel confidence
that in such a matter it was not St. Paul’s wish to
deprive Churches throughout all time of their liberty of
judgment, and the Church of England is thus justified.
CHAPTER XII.
THE RELATION OF HUMAN CONDUCT TO THE
MYSTERY OF GODLINESS.
“These things write I unto thee, hoping to come unto thee shortly;
but if I tarry long, that thou mayest know how men ought to behave
themselves in the house of God, which is the Church of the living
God, the pillar and ground of the truth. And without controversy
great is the mystery of godliness; He who was manifested in the
flesh, justified in the spirit, seen of angels, preached among the
nations, believed on in the world, received up in glory”—1 Tim. iii.
14–16.
St. Paul here makes a pause in the Epistle. He
has brought to a close some of the principal directions
which he has to give respecting the preservation
of pure doctrine, the conduct of public worship, and the
qualifications for the ministry: and before proceeding
to other topics he halts in order to insist upon the
importance of these things, by pointing out what is
really involved in them. Their importance is one
main reason for his writing at all. Although he hopes
to be with Timothy again even sooner than might be
expected, he nevertheless will not allow matters of this
gravity to wait for his return to Ephesus. For, after
all, this hope may be frustrated, and it may be a long
time before the two friends meet again face to face.
The way in which Christians ought to behave themselves
in the house of God is not a matter which can
wait indefinitely, seeing that this house of God is no
lifeless shrine of a lifeless image, which knows nothing
and cares nothing about what goes on in its temple;
but a congregation of immortal souls and of bodies that
are temples of the living God, Who will destroy him
who destroys His temple (1 Cor. iii. 17). God’s house
must have regulations to preserve it from unseeming
disorder. The congregation which belongs to the
living God must have a constitution to preserve it from
faction and anarchy. All the more so, seeing that to
it has been assigned a post of great responsibility.
Truth in itself is self-evident and self-sustained: it
needs no external support or foundation. But truth as
it is manifested to the world needs the best support
and the firmest basis that can be found for it. And
it is the duty and privilege of the Church to supply
these. God’s household is not only a community
which in a solemn and special way belongs to the
living God: it is also the “pillar and ground of the
truth.” These considerations show how vital is the
question, In what way ought one to behave oneself in
this community?To take the “pillar and ground of the truth” as meaning
Timothy makes sense, but not nearly such good sense: moreover, it
is almost certain that if St. Paul had meant this, he would have
expressed himself differently. There is no intolerable mixture of
metaphors in speaking of Christians first as a house and then as a
pillar, any more than in speaking of any one as both a pillar and a
basis. In vi. 9 we have the covetous falling into a snare and hurtful
lusts such as drown men.
For the truth, to the support and establishment of
which every Christian by his behaviour in the Church
is bound to contribute, is indisputably something great
and profound. By the admission of all, the mystery
of the Christian faith is a deep and weighty one; and
the responsibility of helping or hindering its establishment
is proportionately deep and weighty. Other
things may be matter of dispute, but this not. “Without
controversy great is the mystery of godliness.”
Why does St. Paul speak of the Truth as “the mystery
of godliness”? In order to express both the Divine
and the human aspects of the Christian faith. On the
Divine side the Gospel is a mystery, a disclosed secret.
It is a body of truth originally hidden from man’s
knowledge, to which man by his own unaided reason
and abilities would never be able to find the way. In
one word it is a revelation: a communication by God
to men of Truth which they could not have discovered
for themselves. “Mystery” is one of those words
which Christianity has borrowed from paganism, but
has consecrated to new uses by gloriously transfiguring
its meaning. The heathen mystery was something
always kept hidden from the bulk of mankind; a secret
to which only a privileged few were admitted. It
encouraged, in the very centre of religion itself, selfishness
and exclusiveness. The Christian mystery, on
the other hand, is something once hidden, but now
made known, not to a select few, but to all. The term,
therefore, involves a splendid paradox: it is a secret
revealed to every one. In St. Paul’s own words to the
Romans (xvi. 25), “the revelation of the mystery
which hath been kept in silence through times eternal,
but now is manifested, and by the scriptures of the
prophets, according to the commandment of the eternal
God, is made known unto all the nations.” He rarely
uses the word mystery without combining with it some
other word signifying to reveal, manifest, or make
known.1 Cor. ii 1, 7, xv. 51; Eph. i. 9, iii. 3, 9, vi. 19; Col. i. 26, 27, ii.
v. 3, comp. Rom. xi. 25, and see Lightfoot on Col. i. 26.
But the Christian faith is not only a mystery but a
“mystery of godliness.” It not only tells of the bounty
of Almighty God in revealing His eternal counsels
to man, but it also tells of man’s obligations in consequence
of being initiated. It is a mystery, not “of
lawlessness” (2 Thess. ii. 7), but “of godliness.” Those
who accept it “profess godliness”; profess reverence
to the God who has made it known to them. It teaches
plainly on what principle we are to regulate “how
men ought to behave themselves in the household of
God.” The Gospel is a mystery of piety, a mystery
of reverence and of religious life. Holy itself, and
proceeding from the Holy One, it bids its recipients
be holy, even as He is Holy Who gives it.
“Who was manifested in the flesh, justified in the
spirit, seen of angels, preached among the nations,
believed on in the world, received up in glory.”
After the text about the three Heavenly Witnesses
in the First Epistle of St. John, no disputed reading
in the New Testament has given rise to more controversy
than the passage before us. Let us hope that
the day is not far distant when there will be no more
disputing about either text. The truth, though still
doubted, especially in reference to the passage before
us, is not really doubtful. In both cases the reading
of the A.V. is indefensible. It is certain that St. John
never wrote the words about the “three that bear
witness in heaven”: and it is certain that St. Paul
did not write, “God was manifest in the flesh,” but
“Who was manifested in the flesh.” The reading
“God was manifested in the flesh” appears in no
Christian writer until late in the fourth century, and
in no translation of the Scriptures, earlier than the
seventh or eighth century. And it is not found in
any of the five great primary MSS., except as a correction
made by a later scribe, who knew of the reading
“God was manifested,” and either preferred it to the
other, or at least wished to preserve it as an alternative
reading, or as an interpretation. Even so cautious
and conservative a commentator as the late Bishop
Wordsworth of Lincoln declares that “the preponderance
of testimony is overwhelming” against the reading
“God was manifested in the flesh.” In an old Greek
MS., it would require only two small strokes to turn
“Who” into “God”; and this alteration would be
a tempting one, seeing that the masculine “Who”
after the neuter “mystery,” looks harsh and
unnatural.Cf. Col. i. 27, which throws much light on this passage; and also
Col. ii. 2. In some MSS. and Versions the “Who” has been changed
into “which,” in order to make the construction less harsh.
But here we come upon a highly interesting consideration.
The words that follow look like a quotation
from some primitive Christian hymn or confession.
The rhythmical movement and the parallelism of the
six balanced clauses, of which each triplet forms a
climax, points to some such fact as this. It is possible
that we have here a fragment of one of the very hymns
which, as Pliny the Younger tells the Emperor Trajan,
the Christians were accustomed to sing antiphonally at
daybreak to Christ as a
God.Carmen Christo quasi deo dicere secum invicem (Plin., Ep. x. 97).
Such a passage as
this might well be sung from side to side, line by line
or triplet by triplet, as choirs still chant the Psalms
in our churches.
“Who was manifested in the flesh,
“Justified in the spirit,
“Seen of angels,
“Preached among the nations,
“Believed on in the world,
“Received up in glory.”
Let us assume that this very reasonable and attractive
conjecture is correct, and that St. Paul is here
quoting from some well-known form of words. Then
the “Who” with which the quotation begins will refer
to something in the preceding lines which are not
quoted. How natural, then, that St. Paul should leave
the “Who” unchanged, although it does not fit on
grammatically to his own sentence. But in any
case there is no doubt as to the antecedent of the
“Who.” “The mystery of godliness” has for its
centre and basis the life of a Divine Person; and the
great crisis in the long process by which the mystery
was revealed was reached when this Divine Person
“was manifested in the flesh.” That in making this
statement or quotation the Apostle has in his mind
the Gnostics who “teach a different doctrine” (i. 3),
is quite possible, but is by no means certain. The
“manifestation” of Christ in the flesh is a favourite
topic with him, as with St. John, and is one of the
points in which the two Apostles not only teach the
same doctrine, but teach it in the same language. The
fact that he had used the word “mystery” would be
quite enough to make him speak of “manifestation,”
even if there had been no false teachers who denied
or explained away the fact of the Incarnation of the
Divine Son. The two words fit into one another
exactly. “Mystery,” in Christian theology, implies
something which once was concealed but has now been
made known; “manifest” implies making known what
had once been concealed. An historical appearance of
One Who had previously existed, but had been kept from
the knowledge of the world, is what is meant by, “Who
was manifested in the flesh.”
“Justified in the spirit.” Spirit here cannot mean
the Holy Spirit, as the A.V. would lead us to suppose.
“In spirit” in this clause is in obvious contrast to
“in flesh” in the previous clause. And if “flesh”
means the material part of Christ’s nature, “spirit”
means the immaterial part of His nature, and the higher
portion of it. His flesh was the sphere of His manifestation:
His spirit was the sphere of His justification.
Thus much seems to be clear. But what are we to
understand by His justification? And how did it take
place in His spirit? These are questions to which a
great variety of answers have been given; and it would
be rash to assert of any one of them that it is so
satisfactory as to be conclusive.
Christ’s human nature consisted, as ours does, of
three elements, body, soul, and spirit. The body is
the flesh spoken of in the first clause. The soul
(ψυχή), as distinct from the spirit
(πνεῦμα), is the seat
of the natural affections and desires. It was Christ’s
soul that was troubled at the thought of impending
suffering. “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto
death” (Matt. xxvi. 38; Mark xiv. 34). “Now is My
soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save Me
from this hour” (John xii. 27). The spirit is the seat
of the religious emotions: it is the highest, innermost
part of man’s nature; the sanctuary of the temple. It
was in His spirit that Christ was affected when the
presence of moral evil distressed Him. He was moved
with indignation in His spirit when He saw the hypocritical
Jews mingling their sentimental lamentations
with the heartfelt lamentations of Martha and Mary at
the grave of Lazarus (John xi. 33). It was in His
spirit also that He was troubled when, as Judas sat at
table with Him and possibly next to
Him,St. John reclined on our Lord’s right; Judas seems to have been
on His left. He must have been very close to be able to hear without
the others hearing.
He said,
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, that one of you shall
betray Me” (John xiii. 21). This spiritual part of His
nature, which was the sphere of His most intense
suffering, was also the sphere of His most intense joy
and satisfaction. As moral evil distressed His spirit,
so moral innocence delighted it. In a way that none
of us can measure, Jesus Christ knew the joy of a good
conscience. The challenge which He made to the Jews,
“Which of you convicteth Me of sin?” was one which
He could make to His own conscience. It had nothing
against Him and could never accuse Him. He was
justified when it spake, and clear when it judged (Rom.
iii. 4; Ps. li. 4). Perfect Man though He was, and
manifested in weak and suffering flesh, He was nevertheless
“justified in the spirit.”Cf. the partly parallel passage 1 Pet. iii. 18: “Put to death in
the flesh, but quickened in the spirit.” But “flesh” and “spirit”
have no preposition in the original Greek in 1 Pet. iii. 18: here
each has the ἐν.
“Seen of angels.” It is impossible to determine the
precise occasion to which this refers. Ever since the
Incarnation Christ has been visible to the angels; but
something more special than the fact of the Incarnation
seems to be alluded to here. The wording in the
Greek is exactly the same as in “He appeared to
Cephas; then to the twelve; then He appeared to above
five hundred brethren at once, of whom the greater
part remain until now, but some are fallen asleep; then
He appeared to James; then to all the Apostles; last
of all, as to one born out of due time, He appeared to
me also” (1 Cor. xv. 5–8). Here, therefore, we might
translate “appeared to angels.” What appearance, or
appearances, of the incarnate Word to the angelic
host can be intended?
The question cannot be answered with any certainty;
but with some confidence we can venture to say what
can not be intended. “Appeared to angels” can
scarcely refer to the angelic appearances which are
recorded in connexion with the Nativity, Temptation,
Agony, Resurrection, and Ascension of Christ. On
those occasions angels appeared to Christ and to
others, not He to angels. With still greater confidence
we may reject the suggestion that “angels” here
means either the Apostles, as the angels or messengers
of Christ, or evil spirits, as the angels of Satan. It
may be doubted whether anything at all parallel to
either explanation can be found in Scripture. Moreover,
“appeared to evil spirits” is an interpretation
which makes the passage more difficult than it was
before. The manifestation of Christ to the angelic
host either at the Incarnation or at the return to glory
is a far more reasonable meaning to assign to the
words.
The first three clauses of this primitive hymn may
thus be summed up. The mystery of godliness has
been revealed to mankind, and revealed in a historical
Person, Who, while manifested in human flesh, was
in His inmost spirit declared free from all sin. And
this manifestation of a perfectly righteous Man was
not confined to the human race. The angels also
witnessed it and can bear testimony to its reality.
The remaining triplet is more simple: the meaning
of each one of its clauses is clear. The same Christ,
who was seen of angels, was also preached among the
nations of the earth and believed on in the world: yet
He Himself was taken up from the earth and received
once more in glory. The propagation of the faith in
an ascended Christ is here plainly and even enthusiastically
stated. To all the nations, to the whole
world, this glorified Saviour belongs. All this adds
emphasis to the question “how men ought to behave
themselves in the house of God” in which such truths
are taught and upheld.
It is remarkable how many arrangements of these
six clauses are possible, all making excellent sense.
We may make them into two triplets of independent
lines: or we may couple the two first lines of each
triplet together and then make the third lines correspond
to one another. In either case each group begins
with earth and ends with heaven. Or again, we may
make the six lines into three couplets. In the first
couplet flesh and spirit are contrasted and combined;
in the second, angels and men; in the third, earth and
heaven.
Yes, beyond dispute the mystery of godliness is a
great one. The revelation of the Eternal Son, which
imposes upon those who accept it a holiness of which
His sinlessness must be the model, is something awful
and profound. But He, Who along with every temptation
which He allows “makes also the way of escape,”
does not impose a pattern for imitation without at the
same time granting the grace necessary for struggling
towards it. To reach it is impossible—at any rate in
this life. But the consciousness that we cannot reach
perfection is no excuse for aiming at imperfection.
The sinlessness of Christ is immeasurably beyond us
here; and it may be that even in eternity the loss
caused by our sins in this life will never be entirely
cancelled. But to those who have taken up their cross
daily and followed their Master, and who have washed
their robes and made them white in the blood of the
Lamb, will be granted hereafter to stand sinless “before
the throne of God and serve Him day and night in His
temple.” Having followed Christ on earth, they will
follow Him still more in heaven. Having shared His
sufferings here, they will share His reward there.
They too will be “seen of angels” and “received up in
glory.”
CHAPTER XIII.
THE COMPARATIVE VALUE OF BODILY EXERCISE
AND OF GODLINESS.
“Exercise thyself unto godliness: for bodily exercise is profitable for
a little; but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of
the life which now is, and of that which is to come”—1 Tim. iv. 7, 8.
It is almost impossible to decide what St. Paul here
means by “bodily exercise.” Not that either the
phrase or the passage in which it occurs is either
difficult or obscure. But the phrase may mean either
of two things, both of which make excellent sense in
themselves, and both of which fit the context.
At the beginning of this chapter the Apostle warns
Timothy against apostates who shall “give heed to
seducing spirits and doctrines of devils ... forbidding
to marry and commanding to abstain from
meats.” St. Paul has in his mind those moral teachers
who made bodily mortifications the road, not to self-discipline,
but to self-effacement; and who taught that
such things were necessary, not because our bodies are
prone to evil, but because they exist at all. To have
a body, they held, was a degradation: and such a
possession was a curse, a burden, and a shame.
Instead of believing, as every Christian must, that a
human body is a very sacred thing, to be jealously
guarded from all that may harm or pollute it, these
philosophers held that it was worse than worthless, fit
for nothing but to be trampled upon and abused. That
it may be sanctified here and be glorified hereafter,—that
it may be the temple of God’s Holy Spirit now
and be admitted to share the blessedness of Christ’s
ascended humanity in the world to come,—they could
not and would not believe. It must be made to
feel its own vileness. It must be checked, and
thwarted, and tormented into subjection, until the
blessed time should come when death should release
the unhappy soul that was linked to it from its loathsome
and intolerable companion.
It cannot, of course, for a moment be supposed that
St. Paul would admit that “bodily exercise” of this
suicidal kind was “profitable” even “for a little.” On
the contrary, as we have seen already, he condemns
the whole system in the very strongest terms. It is
a blasphemy against God’s goodness and a libel on
human nature. But some persons have thought that
the Apostle may be alluding to practices which,
externally at any rate, had much resemblance to the
practices which he so emphatically condemns. He
may have in his mind those fasts, and vigils, and other
forms of bodily mortification, which within prudent
limits and when sanctified by humility and prayer, are
a useful, if not a necessary discipline for most of us.
And it has been thought that Timothy himself may
have been going to unwise lengths in such ascetic
practices: for in this very letter we find his affectionate
master charging him, “Be no longer a drinker of water,
but use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake and thine
often infirmities.”
This then is one possible meaning of the Apostle’s
words in the passage before us. Discipline of the
body by means of a severe rule of life is profitable for
something: but it is not everything. It is not even
the chief thing, or anything approaching to the chief
thing. The chief thing is godliness. To the value of
bodily exercise of this kind there are limits, and rather
narrow limits: it “is profitable for a little.” To the
value of godliness there are no limits: it is “profitable
for all things.” Mortifications of the body may preserve
us from sins of the flesh: but they are no certain
protection even against these. They are no protection
at all—sometimes they are the very reverse of protection—against
sins of self-complacency and spiritual
pride. Asceticism may exist without godliness; and
godliness may exist without asceticism. Bodily mortifications
may be useful; but they may also be harmful
to both soul and body. Godliness must always be
useful to both; can never be harmful to either.
But it is quite possible to understand the expression
“bodily exercise,” in the sense in which the phrase is
most commonly used in ordinary conversation among
ourselves. In the text which we are considering it
may mean that exercise of the body which we are
accustomed to take, some of us of necessity, because
the work by which we earn our daily bread involves a
great deal of physical exertion; some of us for health’s
sake, because our work involves a great deal of sitting
still; some of us for pleasure, because bodily exercise
of various kinds is delightful to us. This interpretation
of the Apostle’s statement, like the other interpretation,
makes good sense of itself and fits the context.
And whereas that was in harmony with the opening
words of the chapter, this fits the immediate context.
St. Paul has just said “Exercise thyself unto godliness.”
In using the expression “Exercise thyself”
(γύμναζε σεαυτόν) he was of course borrowing, as he
so constantly does borrow, from the language which
was used respecting gymnastic contests in the public
games. The Christian is an athlete, who must train
himself and exercise himself for a lifelong contest. He
has to wrestle and fight with the powers of evil, that
he may win a crown of glory that fadeth not away.
How natural, then, that the Apostle, having just
spoken of spiritual exercise for the attainment of godliness,
should go on to glance at bodily exercise, in
order to point out the superiority of the one over the
other. The figurative would easily suggest the literal
sense; and it is therefore quite lawful to take the words
“bodily exercise” in their most literal sense. Perhaps
we may go further and say, that this is just one of
those cases in which, because the literal meaning makes
excellent sense, the literal meaning is to be preferred.
Let us then take St. Paul’s words quite literally and
see what meaning they will yield.
“Bodily exercise is profitable for a little.” It is by
no means a useless thing. In its proper place it has a
real value. Taken in moderation it tends to preserve
health and increase strength. It may sometimes be
the means of gaining for ourselves and for the circle to
which we belong praise and distinction. It makes us
more capable of aiding ourselves and others in times of
physical danger. It may even be the means of enabling
us to save life. By taking us out of ourselves and
turning our thoughts into new channels, it is an instrument
of mental refreshment, and enables us to return
to the main business of our lives with increased intellectual
vigour. And beyond all this, if kept within
bounds, it has a real moral value. It sometimes keeps
us out of mischief by giving us innocent instead of
harmful recreation. And bodily training and practice,
if loyally carried out, involve moral gains of another
kind. Dangerous appetites have to be kept in check,
personal wishes have to be sacrificed, good temper has
to be cultivated, if success is to be secured for ourselves
or the side to which we belong. All this is “profitable”
in a very real degree. But the limits to all these good
results are evident; and they are somewhat narrow.
They are confined to this life, and for the most part to
the lower side of it; and they are by no means certain.
Only indirectly does bodily exercise yield help to the
intellectual and spiritual parts of our nature; and as
regards both of them it may easily do more harm than
good. Like excessive meat and drink, it may brutalize
instead of invigorating. Have we not all of us seen
men whose extravagant devotion to bodily exercise has
extinguished almost all intellectual interests, and apparently
all spiritual interests also?
But there are no such drawbacks to the exercise of
godliness. “Godliness is profitable for all things,
having promise” not only “of the life which now is,
but of that which is to come.” Its value is not confined
to the things of this world, although it enriches and
glorifies them all. And, unlike bodily exercise, its good
results are certain. There is no possibility of excess.
We may be unwise in our pursuit of godliness, as in
our pursuit of bodily strength and activity; but we
cannot have too much exercise in godliness, as we
easily can in athletics. Indeed, we cannot with any
safety lay aside the one, as we not only can, but must,
frequently lay aside the other. And we need to bear
this simple truth in mind. Most of us are willing to
admit that godliness is an excellent thing for attaining
to a peaceful death; but we show little evidence that
we are convinced of its being necessary for spending a
happy life. We look upon it as a very suitable thing
for the weak, the poor, the sickly, the sorrowful, and
perhaps also for sentimental persons who have plenty
of leisure time at their disposal. We fail to see that
there is much need for it, or indeed much room for it,
in the lives of busy, capable, energetic, and practical
men of the world. In other words, we are not at all
convinced of the truth of the Apostle’s words, that
“Godliness is profitable for all things,” and we do not
act as if they had very much interest for us. They
express a truth which is only too likely to be crowded
out of sight and out of mind in this bustling age. Let
us be as practical as our dispositions lead us and our
surroundings require us to be; but let us not forget
that godliness is really the most practical of all things.
It lays hold on a man’s whole nature. It purifies his
body, it illumines and sanctifies his intellect; it braces
his will. It penetrates into every department of life,
whether business or amusement, social intercourse or
private meditation. Ask the physicians, ask employers
of labour, ask teachers in schools and universities, ask
statesmen and philosophers, what their experience
teaches them respecting the average merits of the
virtuous and the vicious. They will tell you that the
godly person has the healthiest body, is the most
faithful servant, the most painstaking student, the best
citizen, the happiest man. A man who is formed,
reformed, and informed by religion will do far more
effectual work in the world than the same man without
religion. He works with less friction, because his care
is cast upon his heavenly Father; and with more confidence,
because his trust is placed on One much more
sure than himself. Moreover, in the long run he is
trusted and respected. Even those who not only abjure
religion in themselves, but ridicule it in others, cannot
get rid of their own experience. They find that the
godly man can be depended upon, where the merely
clever man cannot; and they act in accordance with
this experience. Nor does the profitableness of godliness
end with the possession of blessings so inestimable
as these. It holds out rich promises respecting future
happiness, and it gives an earnest and guarantee for it.
It gives a man the blessing of a good conscience,
which is one of our chief foretastes of the blessedness
which awaits us in the world to come.
Let us once for all get rid of the common, but false
notion that there is anything unpractical, anything weak
or unmanly, in the life of holiness to which Christ has
called us, and of which He has given us an example:
and by the lives which we lead let us prove to others
that this vulgar notion is a false one. Nothing has
done more harm to the cause of Christianity than the
misconceptions which the world has formed as to what
Christianity is and what it involves. And these misconceptions
are largely caused by the unworthy lives which
professing Christians lead. And this unworthiness
is of two kinds. There is first the utter worldliness,
and often the downright wickedness, of many who are
not only baptized Christians, but who habitually keep
up some of the external marks of an ordinary Christian
life, such as going to church, having family prayers,
attending religious meetings, and the like. And perhaps
the worst form of this is that in which religion is made
a trade, and an appearance of godliness is assumed in
order to make money out of a reputation for sanctity.
Secondly, there is the seriously mistaken way in which
many earnest persons set to work in order to attain to
true godliness. By their own course of life they lead
people to suppose that a religious life, the life of an
earnest Christian, is a dismal thing and an unpractical
thing. They wear a depressed and joyless look; they
not only abstain from, but leave it to be supposed that
they condemn, many things which give zest and brightness
to life, and which the Gospel does not condemn.
In their eagerness to show their conviction as to the
transcendent importance of spiritual matters, they
exhibit a carelessness and slovenliness in reference to
the affairs of this life, which is exceedingly trying to
all those who have to work with them. Thus they
stand forward before the world as conspicuous evidence
that godliness is not “profitable for all things.” The
world is only too ready to take note of evidence which
points to a conclusion so in harmony with its own
predilections. It is, and has been from the beginning,
prejudiced against religion; and its adherents are quick
to seize upon, and make the most of, anything which
appears to justify these prejudices. “In a world such
as this,” they say, “so full of care and suffering, we
cannot afford to part with anything which gives brightness
and refreshment to life. A religion which tells
us to abjure all these things, and live perpetually as if
we were at the point of death or face to face with the
Day of Judgment, may be all very well for monks and
nuns, but is no religion for the mass of mankind.
Moreover, this is a busy age. Most of us have much
to do; and, if we are to live at all, what we have to do
must be done quickly and thoroughly. That means
that we must give our minds to it; and a religion
which tells us that we must not give our minds to
our business, but to other things which it says are of
far greater importance, is no religion for people who
have to make their way in the world and keep themselves
and their children from penury. We flatly
refuse to accept a gospel which is so manifestly out of
harmony with the conditions of average human life.”
This charge against Christianity is a very old one: we
find it taken up and answered in some of the earliest
defences of the gospel which have come down to us.
The unhappy thing is, not that such charges should be
made, but that the lives of Christian men and women
should prove that there is at least a primâ facie case for
bringing such accusations. The early Christians had
to confront the charge that they were joyless, useless
members of society and unpatriotic citizens. They
maintained that, on the contrary, they were the happiest
and most contented of men, devoted to the well-being
of others, and ready to die for their country. They
kept aloof from many things in which the heathen
indulged, not because they were pleasures, but because
they were sinful. And there were certain services which
they could not, without grievous sin, render to the
State. In all lawful matters no men were more ready
than they were to be loyal and law-abiding citizens.
In this, as in any other matter of moral conduct, they
were quite willing to be compared with their accusers
or any other class of men. On which side were to be
found those who were bright and peaceful in their lives,
who cherished their kindred, who took care of the
stranger, who succoured their enemies, who shrank not
from death?
A practical appeal of this kind is found to be in the
long run far more telling than exposition and argument.
It may be impossible to get men to listen to, or take
interest in, statements as to the principles and requirements
of the Christian religion. You may fail to convince
them that its precepts and demands are neither
superstitious nor unreasonable. But you can always
show them what a life of godliness really is;—that it
is full of joyousness, and that its joys are neither fitful
nor uncertain; that it is no foe to what is bright and
beautiful, and is neither morose in itself nor apt to
frown at lightheartedness in others; that it does not
interfere with the most strenuous attention to business
and the most capable despatch of it. Men refuse to
listen to or to be moved by words; but they cannot
help noticing and being influenced by facts which are
all round them in their daily lives. So far as man can
judge, the number of vicious, mean, and unworthy lives
is far in excess of those which are pure and lofty.
Each one of us can do something towards throwing the
balance the other way. We can prove to all the world
that godliness is not an unreality, and does not make
those who strive after it unreal; that it is hostile
neither to joyousness nor to capable activity; that, on
the contrary, it enhances the brightness of all that is
really beautiful in life, while it raises to a higher power
all natural gifts and abilities; that the Apostle was
saying no more than the simple truth when he declared
that it is “profitable for all things.”
CHAPTER XIV.
THE PASTOR’S BEHAVIOUR TOWARDS WOMEN.—THE
CHURCH WIDOW.
“Honour widows that are widows indeed. But if any widow
hath children or grandchildren, let them learn first to shew piety
towards their own family, and to requite their parents: for this is
acceptable in the sight of God.... Let none be enrolled as a
widow under threescore years old, having been the wife of one man,
well reported of for good works”—1 Tim. v. 3, 4, 9.
The subject of this fifth chapter is “The Behaviour
of the Pastor towards the older and younger
men and women in the congregation.” Some have
thought that it forms the main portion of the letter,
to which all the rest is more or less introductory or
supplementary. But the structure of the letter cannot
easily be brought into harmony with this view. It
seems to be much nearer the truth to say that the
unpremeditated way in which this subject is introduced,
cannot well be explained unless we assume that we are
reading a genuine letter, and not a forged treatise.
The connexion of the different subjects touched upon
is loose and not always very obvious. Points are
mentioned in the order in which they occur to the
writer’s mind without careful arrangement. After the
personal exhortations given at the close of Chapter iv.,
which have a solemnity that might lead one to suppose
that the Apostle was about to bring his words to a
close, he makes a fresh start and treats of an entirely
new subject which has occurred to him.
It is not difficult to guess what has suggested the
new subject. The personal exhortations with which
the previous section ends contain these words, “Let
no man despise thy youth; but be thou an ensample
to them that believe, in word, in manner of life, in love,
in faith, in purity.” Timothy is not to allow the fact
that he is younger than many of those over whom
he is set to interfere with the proper discharge of his
duties. He is to give no one a handle for charging
him with want of gravity or propriety. Sobriety of
conduct is to counterbalance any apparent lack of
experience. But St. Paul remembers that there is
another side to that. Although Timothy is to behave
in such a way as never to remind his flock of his
comparative youthfulness, yet he himself is always to
bear in mind that he is still a young man. This is
specially to be remembered in dealing with persons
of either sex who are older than himself, and in his
bearing towards young women. St. Paul begins with
the treatment of older men and returns to this point
again later on. Between these two passages about
men he gives directions for Timothy’s guidance respecting
the women in his flock, and specially respecting
widows. This subject occupies more than half the
chapter and is of very great interest, as being our chief
source of information respecting the treatment of
widows in the early Church. Commentators are by
no means unanimous in their interpretation of the
details of the passage, but it is believed that the explanation
which is now offered is in harmony with the
original Greek, consistent with itself, and not contradicted
by anything which is known from other sources.
It is quite evident that more than one kind of widow
is spoken of: and one of the questions which the
passage raises is—How many classes of widows are
indicated? We can distinguish four kinds; and it
seems probable that the Apostle means to give us four
kinds.
1. There is “the widow indeed (ἡ ὄντως χήρα).”
Her characteristic is that she is “desolate,” i.e., quite
alone in the world. She has not only lost her husband,
but she has neither children nor any other near relation
to minister to her necessities. Her hope is set on God,
to Whom her prayers ascend night and day. She is
contrasted with two other classes of widow, both of
whom are in worldly position better off than she is,
for they are not desolate or destitute; yet one of these is
far more miserable than the widow indeed, because the
manner of life which she adopts is so unworthy of her.
2. There is the widow who “hath children or grandchildren.”
Natural affection will cause these to take
care that their widowed parent does not come to want.
If it does not, then they must learn that “to show
piety towards their own family and to requite their
parents” is a paramount duty, and that the congregation
must not be burdened with the maintenance of
their mother until they have first done all they can
for her. To ignore this plain duty is to deny the first
principles of Christianity, which is the Gospel of love
and duty, and to fall below the level of the unbelievers,
most of whom recognized the duty of providing for
helpless parents. Nothing is said of the character of
the widow who has children or grandchildren to support
her; but, like the widow indeed, she is contrasted with
the third class of widow, and therefore we infer that
her character is free from reproach.
3. There is the widow who “giveth herself to
pleasure.” Instead of continuing in prayers and supplications
night and day, she continues in frivolity and
luxury, or worse. Of her, as of the Church of Sardis,
it may be said, “Thou hast a name that thou livest,
and thou art dead” (Rev. iii. 1).
4. There is the “enrolled” widow; i.e., one whose
name has been entered on the Church rolls as such.
She is a “widow indeed” and something more. She
is not only a person who needs and deserves the support
of the congregation, but has special rights and duties.
She holds an office, and has a function to discharge.
She is a widow, not merely as having lost her husband,
but as having been admitted to the company of those
bereaved women whom the Church has entrusted with
a definite portion of Church work. This being so,
something more must be looked to than the mere fact
of her being alone in the world. She must be sixty
years of age, must have had only one husband, have
had experience in the bringing up of children, and be
well known as devoted to good works. If she has
these qualifications, she may be enrolled as a Church
widow; but it does not follow that because she has
them she will be appointed.
The work to which these elderly women had to
devote themselves was twofold: (1) Prayer, especially
intercession for those in trouble; (2) Works of mercy,
especially ministering to the sick, guiding younger
Christian women in lives of holiness, and winning over
heathen women to the faith. These facts we learn
from the frequent regulations respecting widows during
the second, third, and fourth, centuries. It was apparently
during the second century that the order of
widows flourished most.
This primitive order of Church widows must be
distinguished from the equally primitive order of
deaconesses, and from a later order of widows, which
grew up side by side with the earlier order, and continued
long after the earlier order had ceased to exist.
But it would be contrary to all probability, and to all
that we know about Church offices in the Apostolic
and sub-Apostolic age, to suppose that the distinctions
between different orders of women were as marked in
the earliest periods as they afterwards became, or that
they were precisely the same in all branches of the
Church.
It has been sometimes maintained that the Church
widow treated of in the passage before us is identical
with the deaconess. The evidence that the two orders
were distinct is so strong as almost to amount to demonstration.
1. It is quite possible that this very Epistle supplies
enough evidence to make the identification very improbable.
If the “women” mentioned in the section
about deacons (iii. 11) are deaconesses, then the
qualifications for this office are quite different from the
qualifications for that of a widow, and are treated of
in quite different sections of the letter. But even if
deaconesses are not treated of at all in that passage,
the limit of age seems quite out of place, if they are
identical with the widows.The Council in Trullo (A.D. 691), the great authority for discipline
in the Greek Church, fixed the age of forty for admission to
the office of a deaconess and sixty for that of a widow.
In the case of the widows
it was important to enrol for this special Church work
none who were likely to wish to marry again. And
as their duties consisted in a large measure in prayer,
advanced age was no impediment, but rather the
contrary. But the work of the deaconess was for the
most part active work, and it would be unreasonable
to admit no one to the office until the best part of her
working life was quite over.
2. The difference in the work assigned to them
points in the same direction. As already stated, the
special work of the widow was intercessory prayer
and ministering to the sick. The special work of the
deaconess was guarding the women’s door in the
churches, seating the women in the congregation, and
attending women at baptisms.In the middle recension of the Ignatian Epistles we read “I salute
the keepers of the holy doors, the deaconesses in Christ” (Ant. xii.).
“Let the deaconesses stand at the entries of the women” (Apost.
Const. ii. 57, 58). “For we stand in need of a woman, a deaconess,
for many necessities, and first in the baptism of women,” etc.—(Ib.
iii. 15.)
Baptism being usually
administered by immersion, and adult baptism being
very frequent, there was much need of female attendants.
3. At her appointment the deaconess received the
imposition of hands, the widow did not. The form
of prayer for the ordination of a deaconess is given
in the Apostolical Constitutions (viii. 19, 20), and is
worthy of quotation. “Concerning a deaconess, I
Bartholomew make this constitution: O Bishop, thou
shalt lay thy hands upon her in the presence of the
presbytery and of the deacons and deaconesses, and
shalt say; O Eternal God, the Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ, the Creator of man and of woman; Who
didst replenish with the Spirit Miriam, Deborah, Anna,
and Huldah; Who didst not disdain that Thy Only
begotten Son should be born of a woman; Who also
in the tabernacle of the testimony and in the temple
didst ordain women to be keepers of Thy holy gates;—look
down now also upon this Thy servant, who is to
be ordained to the office of a deaconess. Grant her
Thy Holy Spirit and cleanse her from all defilement of
flesh and spirit,1 Cor. vii. 1.
that she may worthily discharge the
work which is committed to her, to Thy glory and the
praise of Thy Christ, with Whom be glory and adoration
to Thee and to the Holy Spirit for ever and ever.
Amen.” Nothing of the kind is found for the appointment
of a Church widow.
4. It is quite in harmony with the fact that the
deaconesses were ordained, while the widows were
not, that the widows are placed under the deaconesses.
“The widows ought to be grave, obedient to their
bishops, their presbyters, and their deacons; and
besides these to the deaconesses, with piety, reverence,
and fear.”Apost. Const., iii. 7.
5. The deaconess might be either an unmarried
woman or a widow, and apparently the former was
preferred. “Let the deaconess be a pure virgin; or at
least a widow who has been but once
married.”Apost. Const., vi. 17.
But,
although such things did occur, Tertullian protests
that it is a monstrous irregularity to admit an unmarried
woman to the order of
widows.De Virg. Vel., ix.
Now, if
widows and deaconesses were identical, unmarried
“widows” would have been quite common, for unmarried
deaconesses were quite common. Yet he
speaks of the one case of a “virgin widow” which had
come under his notice as a marvel, and a monstrosity,
and a contradiction in terms. It is true that Ignatius
in his letter to the Church of Smyrna uses language
which has been thought to support the identification:
“I salute the households of my brethren with their
wives and children, and the virgins who are called
widows.”Smyrn. xiii.
But it is incredible that at Smyrna all the
Church widows were unmarried; and it is equally
improbable that Ignatius should send a salutation to the
unmarried “widows” (if such there were), and ignore
the rest. His language, however, may be quite easily
explained without any such strange hypothesis. He
may mean “I salute those who are called widows, but
whom one might really regard as virgins.” And in
support of this interpretation Bishop Lightfoot quotes
Clement of Alexandria, who says that the continent
man, like the continent widow, becomes again a virgin;
and Tertullian, who speaks of continent widows as being
in God’s sight maidens (Deo sunt puellæ), and as for a
second time virgins.Strom., vii. 12; Ad Uxor., I. iv.; De Exh. Cast., 1.
But, whatever Ignatius may
have meant by “the virgins who are called widows,”
we may safely conclude that neither in his time, any
more than that of St. Paul, were the widows identical
with the deaconesses.
The later order of widows, which grew up side
by side with the Apostolic order, and in the end supplanted,
or at any rate survived, the older order, came
into existence about the third century. It consisted of
persons who had lost their husbands and made a vow
never to marry again. From the middle of the second
century or a little later we find a strong feeling against
second marriages springing up, and this feeling was
very possibly intensified when the Gospel came in contact
with the German tribes, among whom the feeling
already existed independently of Christianity. In
this new order of widows who had taken the vow of
continence there was no restriction of age, nor was
it necessary that they should be persons in need of the
alms of the congregation. In the Apostolic order the
fundamental idea seems to have been that destitute
widows ought to be supported by the Church, and that
in return for this, those of them who were qualified
should do some special Church work. In the later
order the fundamental idea was that it was a good
thing for a widow to remain unmarried, and that a vow
to do so would help her to persevere.
In commanding Timothy to “honour widows that
are widows indeed” the Apostle states a principle
which has had a wide and permanent influence not
only on ecclesiastical discipline but upon European
legislation. Speaking of the growth of the modern
idea of a will, by which a man can regulate the descent
of his property inside and outside his family, Sir
Henry Maine remarks, that “the exercise of the
Testamentary power was seldom allowed to interfere
with the right of the widow to a definite share, and
of the children to certain fixed proportions, of the
devolving inheritance. The shares of the children, as
their amount shows, were determined by the authority
of Roman law. The provision for the widow was attributable
to the exertions of the Church, which never relaxed
its solicitude for the interest of wives surviving their
husbands—winning, perhaps, one of the most arduous
of its triumphs when, after exacting for two or three
centuries an express promise from the husband at
marriage to endow his wife, it at length succeeded
in engrafting the principle of Dower on the Customary
Law of all Western Europe.”Ancient Law, p. 224.
This is one of the
numerous instances in which the Gospel, by insisting
upon the importance of some humane principle, has
contributed to the progress and security of the best
elements in civilization.
Not only the humanity, but the tact and common
sense of the Apostle is conspicuous throughout the
whole passage, whether we regard the general directions
respecting the bearing of the young pastor towards the
different sections of his flock, old and young, male and
female, or the special rules respecting widows. The
sum and substance of it appears to be that the pastor
is to have abundance of zeal and to encourage it in
others, but he is to take great care that, neither in
himself nor in those whom he has to guide, zeal outruns
discretion. Well-deserved rebukes may do far
more harm than good, if they are administered without
respect to the position of those who need them. And
in all his ministrations the spiritual overseer must
beware of giving a handle to damaging criticism. He
must not let his good be evil spoken of. So also with
regard to the widows. No hard and fast rule can be
safely laid down. Almost everything depends upon
circumstances. On the whole, the case of widows is
analogous to that of unmarried women. For those who
have strength to forego the married state, in order to
devote more time and energy to the direct service of God,
it is better to remain unmarried, if single, and if widows,
not to marry again. But there is no peculiar blessedness
in the unmarried state, if the motive for avoiding
matrimony is a selfish one, e.g., to avoid domestic cares
and duties and have leisure for personal enjoyment.
Among younger women the higher motive is less likely
to be present, or at any rate to be permanent. They
are so likely sooner or later to desire to marry, that it
will be wisest not to discourage them to do so. On
the contrary, let it be regarded as the normal thing
that a young woman should marry, and that a young
widow should marry again. It is not the best thing
for them, but it is the safest. Although the highest
work for Christ can best be done by those who by
remaining single have kept their domestic ties at a
minimum, yet young women are more likely to do useful
work in society, and are less likely to come to harm,
if they marry and have children. Of older women this
is not true. Age itself is a considerable guarantee:
and a woman of sixty, who is willing to give such a
pledge, may be encouraged to enter upon a life of perpetual
widowhood. But there must be other qualifications
as well, if she wishes to be enrolled among those,
who not only are entitled by their destitute condition to
receive maintenance from the Church, but by reason
of their fitness are commissioned to undertake Church
work. And these qualifications must be carefully
investigated. It would be far better to reject some,
who might after all have been useful, than to run the
risk of admitting any who would exhibit the scandal of
having been supported by the Church and specially
devoted to Christian works of mercy, and of having
after all returned to society as married women with
ordinary pleasures and cares.
One object throughout these directions is the economy
of Christian resources. The Church accepts the duty
which it inculcates of “providing for its own.” But
it ought not to be burdened with the support of any
but those who are really destitute. The near relations
of necessitous persons must be taught to leave the
Church free to relieve those who have no near relations
to support them. Secondly, so far as is possible, those
who are relieved by the alms of the congregation must
be encouraged to make some return in undertaking
Church work that is suitable to them. St. Paul has no
idea of pauperizing people. So long as they can, they
must maintain themselves. When they have ceased to
be able to do this, they must be supported by their
children or grandchildren. If they have no one to help
them, the Church must undertake their support; but
both for their sake as well as for the interests of the
community, it must, if possible, make the support
granted to be a return for work done rather than mere
alms. Widowhood must not be made a plea for being
maintained in harmful idleness. But the point which
the Apostle insists on most emphatically, stating it in
different ways no less than three times in this short
section (vv. 4, 8, 16) is this,—that widows as a rule
ought to be supported by their own relations; only in
exceptional cases, where there are no relations who can
help, ought the Church to have to undertake this duty.
We have here a warning against the mistake so often
made at the present day of freeing people from their
responsibilities by undertaking for them in mistaken
charity the duties which they ought to discharge, and
are capable of discharging, themselves.
We may, therefore, sum up the principles laid down
thus:—
Discretion and tact are needed in dealing with the
different sections of the congregation, and especially in
relieving the widows. Care must be taken not to encourage
either a rigour not likely to be maintained, or
opportunities of idleness certain to lead to mischief.
Help is to be generously afforded to the destitute; but
the resources of the Church must be jealously guarded.
They must not be wasted on the unworthy, or on those
who have other means of help. And, so far as possible,
the independence of those who are relieved must be
protected by employing them in the service of the
Church.
In conclusion it may be worth while to point out that
this mention of an order of widows is no argument
against the Pauline authorship of these Epistles, as if no
such thing existed in his time. In Acts vi. 1 the widows
appear as a distinct body in the Church at Jerusalem. In
Acts ix. 39, 41, they appear almost as an order in the
Church at Joppa. They “show the coats and garments
which Dorcas made” in a way which seems
to imply that it was their business to distribute such
things among the needy. Even if it means no more
than that Dorcas made them for the relief of the
widows themselves, still the step from a body of
widows set apart for the reception of alms to an order
of widows set apart for the duty of intercessory prayer
and ministering to the sick is not a long one, and may
easily have been made in St. Paul’s lifetime.
CHAPTER XV.
THE PASTOR’S RESPONSIBILITIES IN ORDAINING
AND JUDGING PRESBYTERS.—THE WORKS THAT
GO BEFORE AND THAT FOLLOW US.
“Lay hands hastily on no man, neither be partaker of other men’s
sins: keep thyself pure. Be no longer a drinker of water, but use a
little wine for thy stomach’s sake and thine often infirmities. Some
men’s sins are evident, going before unto judgment; and some men also
they follow after. In like manner also there are good works that are
evident; and such as are otherwise cannot be hid”—1 Tim. v. 22–25.
The section of which these verses form the conclusion,
like the preceding section about behaviour
towards the different classes of persons in the congregation,
supplies us with evidence that we are dealing
with a real letter, written to give necessary advice to
a real person, and not a theological or controversial
treatise, dressed up in the form of a letter, in order to
obtain the authority of St. Paul’s name for its contents.
Here, as before, the thoughts follow one another in an
order which is quite natural, but which has little plan
or arrangement. An earnest and affectionate friend,
with certain points in his mind on which he was
anxious to say something, might easily treat of them in
this informal way just as they occurred to him, one thing
suggesting another. But a forger, bent on getting his
own views represented in the document, would not
string them together in this loosely connected way: he
would disclose more arrangement than we can find here.
What forger again, would think of inserting that advice
about ceasing to be a water-drinker into a most solemn
charge respecting the election and ordination of presbyters?
And yet how thoroughly natural it is found to
be in this very context when considered as coming from
St. Paul to Timothy!
We shall go seriously astray if we start with the
conviction that the word “elder” has the same meaning
throughout this chapter. When in the first part of it
St. Paul says “Rebuke not an elder, but exhort him
as a father,” it is quite clear that he is speaking simply
of elderly men, and not of persons holding the office of
an elder: for he goes on at once to speak of the treatment
of younger men, and also of older and younger
women. But when in the second half of the chapter he
says “Let the elders that rule well be counted worthy
of double honour,” and “Against an elder receive not
an accusation, except at the mouth of two or three
witnesses,” it is equally clear that he is speaking of
official persons, and not merely of persons who are
advanced in years. The way in which the thoughts
suggested one another throughout this portion of the
letter is not difficult to trace. “Let no man despise
thy youth” suggested advice as to how the young overseer
was to behave towards young and old of both
sexes. This led to the treatment of widows, and this
again to the manner of appointing official widows.
Women holding an official position suggests the subject
of men holding an official position in the Church. If
the treatment of the one class needs wisdom and
circumspection, not less does the treatment of the
other. And therefore, with even more solemnity than
in the previous section about the widows, the Apostle
gives his directions on this important subject also.
“I charge thee in the sight of God, and Christ Jesus,
and the elect angels, that thou observe these things
without prejudice, doing nothing by partiality.” And
then he passes on to the words which form our text.
It has been seriously doubted whether the words
“Lay hands hastily on no man” do refer to the ordination
of the official elders or presbyters. It is urged
that the preceding warnings about the treatment of
charges made against presbyters, and of persons who
are guilty of habitual sin, point to disciplinary functions
of some kind rather than to ordination. Accordingly
some few commentators in modern times have treated
the passage as referring to the laying on of hands at
the readmission of penitents to communion. But of any
such custom in the Apostolic age there is no trace.
There is nothing improbable in the hypothesis, imposition
of hands being a common symbolical act. But it
is a mere hypothesis unsupported by evidence. Eusebius,
in speaking of the controversy between Stephen of
Rome and Cyprian of Carthage about the re-baptizing
of heretics, tells us that the admission of heretics to the
Church by imposition of hands with prayer, but without
second baptism, was the “old custom.” But the
admission of heretics is not quite the same as the readmission
of penitents: and a custom might be “old”
(παλαιὸν ἦθος) in the time of Eusebius, or even of
Cyprian, without being Apostolic or coeval with the
Apostles. Therefore this statement of Eusebius gives
little support to the proposed interpretation of the
passage; and we may confidently prefer the explanation
of it which has prevailed at any rate since Chrysostom’s
time, that it refers to
ordination.Tertullian (De Bapt., xviii.) seems to understand St. Paul to be
speaking of the imposition of hands after Baptism (Acts viii. 17, xix. 6),
which can hardly be correct.
Of the laying on of
hands at the appointment of ministers we have sufficient
evidence in the New Testament, not only in these
Epistles (1 Tim. iv. 14; 2 Tim. i. 6), but in the Acts
(xiii. 3). Moreover this explanation fits the context at
least as well as the supposed improvement.
1. The Apostle is speaking of the treatment of presbyters,
not of the whole congregation. Imposition of
hands at the admission of a heretic or re-admission
of a penitent would apply to any person, and not to
presbyters in particular. Therefore it is more reasonable
to assume that the laying on of hands which
accompanied ordination is meant.
2. He has just been warning Timothy against prejudice
or partiality in dealing with the elders. While
prejudice might lead him to be hasty in condemning an
accused presbyter, before he had satisfied himself that
the evidence was adequate, partiality might lead him
to be hasty in acquitting him. But there is a more
serious partiality than this, and it is one of the main
causes of such scandals as unworthy presbyters. There
is the partiality which leads to a hasty ordination,
before sufficient care has been taken to ensure that the
qualifications so carefully laid down in chapter iii. are
present in the person selected. Prevention is better
than cure. Proper precautions taken beforehand will
reduce the risk of true charges against an elder to a
minimum. Here again the traditional explanation fits
the context admirably.
“Neither be partaker of other men’s sins.” It is
usual to understand this warning as referring to the
responsibility of those who ordain. If, through haste
or carelessness you ordain an unfit person, you must
share the guilt of the sins which he afterwards commits
as an elder. The principle is a just one, but it may
be doubted whether this is St. Paul’s meaning. The
particular form of negative used seems to be against
it. He says “Nor yet (μηδέ) be partaker of other
men’s sins,” implying that this is something different
from hastiness in ordinary. He seems to be returning
to the warnings about partiality to elders who are
living in sin. The meaning, therefore, is—“Beware
of a haste in ordaining which may lead to the admission
of unworthy men to the ministry. And if, in spite
of all your care, unworthy ministers come under your
notice, beware of an indifference or partiality towards
them which will make you a partaker in their sins.”
This interpretation fits on well to what follows. “Keep
thyself pure”—with a strong emphasis on the pronoun.
“Strictness in enquiring into the antecedents of candidates
for ordination and in dealing with ministerial
depravity will have a very poor effect, unless your own
life is free from reproach.” And, if we omit the parenthetical
advice about taking wine, the thought is continued
thus: “As a rule it is not difficult to arrive at
a wise decision respecting the fitness of candidates, or
the guilt of accused presbyters. Men’s characters both
for evil and good are commonly notorious. The vices
of the wicked and the virtues of the good outrun any
formal judgment about them, and are quite manifest
before an enquiry is held. No doubt there are exceptions,
and then the consequences of men’s lives must
be looked to before a just opinion can be formed. But,
sooner or later (and generally sooner rather than later)
men, and especially ministers, will be known for what
they are.”
It remains to ascertain the meaning of the curious
parenthesis “Be no longer a drinker of water,” and its
connexion with the rest of the passage.
It was probably suggested to St. Paul by the preceding
words, “Beware of making yourself responsible
for the sins of others. Keep your own life above
suspicion.” This charge reminds the Apostle that
his beloved disciple has been using ill-advised means
to do this very thing. Either in order to mark his
abhorrence of the drunkenness, which was one of the
most conspicuous vices of the age, or in order to bring
his own body more easily into subjection, Timothy
had abandoned the use of wine altogether, in spite of
his weak health. St. Paul, therefore, with characteristic
affection, takes care that his charge is not misunderstood.
In urging his representative to be strictly
careful of his own conduct, he does not wish to be
understood as encouraging him to give up whatever
might be abused or made the basis of a slander, nor
yet as approving his rigour in giving up the use of
wine. On the contrary, he thinks it a mistake; and
he takes this opportunity of telling him so, while it
is in his mind. Christ’s ministers have important
duties to perform, and have no right to play tricks
with their health. We may here repeat, with renewed
confidence, that a touch of this kind would never have
occurred to a forger. Hence, in order to account for
such natural touches as these, those who maintain that
these Epistles are a fabrication now resort to the
hypothesis that the forger had some genuine letters
of St. Paul and worked parts of them into his own
productions. It seems to be far more reasonable to
believe that St. Paul wrote the whole of them. (See
above, pp. 8 and 9, and below, pp. 407, ff.).
Let us return to the statement with which the
Apostle closes this section of his letter. “Some men’s
sins are evident, going before unto judgment; and
some men also they follow after. In like manner also
there are good works that are evident; and such as
are otherwise cannot be hid.”
We have seen already what relation these words
have to the context. They refer to the discernment
between good and bad candidates for the ministry,
and between good and bad ministers, pointing out that
in most cases such discernment is not difficult, because
men’s own conduct acts as a herald to their character,
proclaiming it to all the world. The statement, though
made with special reference to Timothy’s responsibilities
towards elders and those who wish to become such,
is a general one, and is equally true of all mankind.
Conduct in most cases is quite a clear index of
character, and there is no need to have a formal
investigation in order to ascertain whether a man is
leading a wicked life or not. But the words have a
still deeper significance—one which is quite foreign
to the context, and therefore can hardly have been in
St. Paul’s mind when he wrote them, but which as
being true and of importance, ought not to be passed
over.
For a formal investigation into men’s conduct before
an ecclesiastical or other official, let us substitute the
judgment-seat of Christ. Let the question be, not the
worthiness of certain persons to be admitted to some
office, but their worthiness to be admitted to eternal
life. The general statement made by the Apostle
remains as true as ever. There are some men who
stand, as before God, so also before the world, as open,
self-proclaimed sinners. Wherever they go, their sins
go before them, flagrant, crying, notorious. And when
they are summoned hence, their sins again precede
them, waiting for them as accusers and witnesses
before the Judge. The whole career of an open and
deliberate sinner is the procession of a criminal to his
doom.Manning’s Sermons, vol. iii., p. 74, Burns, 1847.
His sins go before, and their consequences
follow after, and he moves on in the midst, careless
of the one and ignorant of the other. He has laughed
at his sins and chased remorse for them away. He
has by turns cherished and driven out the remembrance
of them; dwelt on them, when to think of them was
a pleasant repetition of them; stifled the thought of
them, when to think of them might have brought
thoughts of penitence; and has behaved towards them
as if he could not only bring them into being without
guilt, but control them or annihilate them without
difficulty. He has not controlled, he has not destroyed,
he has not even evaded, one of them. Each of them,
when brought into existence, became his master, going
on before him to herald his guiltiness, and saddling
him with consequences from which he could not escape.
And when he went to his own place, it was his sins
that had gone before him and prepared the place for
him.
“And some men also they follow after.” There are
cases in which men’s sins, though of course not less
manifest to the Almighty, are much less manifest to
the world, and even to themselves, than in the case of
flagrant, open sinners. The consequences of their sins
are less conspicuous, less easily disentangled from the
mass of unexplained misery of which the world is so
full. Cause and effect cannot be put together with any
precision; for sometimes the one, sometimes the other,
sometimes even both, are out of sight. There is no
anticipation of the final award to be given at the judgment-seat
of Christ. Not until the guilty one is placed
before the throne for trial, is it at all known whether
the sentence will be unfavourable or not. Even the
man himself has lived and died without being at all
fully aware what the state of the case is. He has not
habitually examined himself, to see whether he has
been living in sin or not. He has taken no pains to
remember, and repent of, and conquer, those sins of
which he has been conscious. The consequences of his
sins have seldom come so swiftly as to startle him and
convince him of their enormity. When they have at
last overtaken him, it has been possible to doubt or to
forget that it was his sins which caused them. And
consequently he has doubted, and he has forgotten.
But for all that, “they follow after.” They are never
eluded, never shaken off. A cause must have its effect;
and a sin must have its punishment, if not in this
world, then certainly in the next. “Be sure your sin
will find you out”—probably in this life, but at any
rate at the day of judgment. As surely as death
follows on a pierced heart or on a severed neck, so
surely does punishment follow upon sin.
How is it that in the material world we never dream
that cause and effect can be separated, and yet easily
believe that in the moral world sin may remain for ever
unpunished? Our relation to the material universe has
been compared to a game of chess. “The chess-board
is the world, the pieces are the phenomena of the
universe, the rules of the game are what we call the
laws of nature. The player on the other side is hidden
from us. We know that his play is always fair, just,
and patient. But also we know, to our cost, that he
never overlooks a mistake, or makes the smallest allowance
for ignorance. To the man who plays well, the
highest stakes are paid, with that sort of over-flowing
generosity with which the strong shows delight in
strength. And one who plays ill is checkmated—without
haste, but without remorse.”Huxley’s Lay Sermons, Essay I. Macmillan.
We believe this
implicitly of the material laws of the universe; that
they cannot be evaded, cannot be transgressed with
impunity, cannot be obeyed without profit. Moral laws
are not one whit less sure. Whether we believe it or
not (and it will but be the worse for us if we refuse to
believe it), sin, both repented and unrepented, must
have its penalty. We might as well fling a stone, or
shoot a cannon-ball, or send a balloon into the air, and
say “You shall not come down again,” as sin, and say
“I shall never suffer for it.” Repentance does not
deprive sin of its natural effect. We greatly err in
supposing that, if we repent in time, we escape the
penalty. To refuse to repent is a second and a worse
sin, which, added to the first sin, increases the penalty
incalculably. To repent is to escape this terrible
augmentation of the original punishment; but it is no
escape from the punishment itself.
But there is a bright side to this inexorable law.
If sin must have its own punishment, virtue must have
its own reward. The one is as sure as the other; and
in the long run the fact of virtue and the reward of
virtue will be made clear to all the world, and especially
to the virtuous man himself. “The works that are
good are evident; and such as are not evident cannot
be hid.” No saint knows his own holiness; and many
a humble seeker after holiness does good deeds without
knowing how good they are. Still less are all saints
known as such to the world, or all good deeds recognized
as good by those who witness them. But, nevertheless,
good works as a rule are evident, and, if they
are not so, they will become so hereafter. If not in
this world, at any rate before Christ’s judgment-seat,
they will be appraised at their true value. It is as
true of the righteous as of the wicked, that “their
works do follow them.” And, if there is no more
terrible fate than to be confronted at the last day by a
multitude of unknown and forgotten sins, so there can
hardly be any lot more blessed than to be welcomed
then by a multitude of unknown and forgotten deeds of
love and piety. “Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of
these My brethren, even these least, ye did it unto Me.”
“Come, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom
prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”
CHAPTER XVI.
THE NATURE OF ROMAN SLAVERY AND THE
APOSTLE’S ATTITUDE TOWARDS IT.—A MODERN
PARALLEL.
“Let as many as are bond-servants under the yoke count their own
masters worthy of all honour, that the name of God and the doctrine
be not blasphemed. And they that have believing masters, let them
not despise them, because they are brethren; but let them serve them
the rather, because they that partake of the benefit are believing and
beloved. These things teach and exhort.”—1 Tim. vi. 1, 2.
There are four passages in which St. Paul deals
directly with the relations between slaves and
their masters:—in the Epistles to the Ephesians
(vi. 5–9), to the Colossians (iii. 22–iv. 1), to Philemon
(8–21), and the passage before us. Here he looks at the
question from the slave’s point of view; in the letter to
Philemon from that of the master: in the Epistles to
the Colossians and to the Ephesians he addresses both.
In all four places his attitude towards this monster
abomination is one and the same; and it is a very
remarkable one. He nowhere denounces slavery. He
does not state that such an intolerable iniquity as man
possessing his fellow-man must be done away as
speedily as may be. He gives no encouragement to
slaves to rebel or to run away. He gives no hint to
masters that they ought to let their slaves go free.
Nothing of the kind. He not only accepts slavery as a
fact; he seems to treat it as a necessary fact, a fact
likely to be as permanent as marriage and parentage,
poverty and wealth.
This attitude becomes all the more marvellous, when
we remember, not only what slavery necessarily is
wherever it exists, but what slavery was both by
custom and by law among the great slave-owners
throughout the Roman Empire. Slavery is at all times
degrading to both the parties in that unnatural relationship,
however excellent may be the regulations by which
it is protected, and however noble may be the characters
of both master and slave. It is impossible for one
human being to be absolute owner of another’s person
without both possessor and possessed being morally
the worse for it. Violations of nature’s laws are never
perpetrated with impunity; and when the laws violated
are those which are concerned, not with unconscious
forces and atoms, but with human souls and characters,
the penalties of the violation are none the less sure
or severe. But these evils, which are the inevitable
consequences of the existence of slavery in any shape
whatever, may be increased a hundredfold, if the
slavery exists under no regulations, or under bad
regulations, or again where both master and slave are,
to start with, base and brutalized in character. And
all this was the case in the early days of the Roman
Empire. Slavery was to a great extent under no check
at all, and the laws which did exist for regulating the
relationship between owner and slave were for the
most part of a character to intensify the evil; while the
conditions under which both master and slave were
educated were such as to render each of them ready to
increase the moral degradation of the other. We are
accustomed to regard with well-merited abhorrence and
abomination the horrors of modern slavery as practised
until recently in America, and as still practised in
Egypt, Persia, Turkey, and Arabia. But it may be
doubted whether all the horrors of modern slavery
are to be compared with the horrors of the slavery of
ancient Rome.
From a political point of view it may be admitted
that the institution of slavery has in past ages played
a useful part in the history of mankind. It has mitigated
the cruelties of barbaric warfare. It was more
merciful to enslave a prisoner than to sacrifice him to
the gods, or to torture him to death, or to eat him.
And the enslaved prisoner and the warrior who had
captured him, at once became mutually useful to one
another. The warrior protected his slave from attack,
and the slave by his labour left the warrior free to
protect him. Thus each did something for the benefit
of the other and of the society in which they lived.
But when we look at the institution from a moral
point of view, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that
its effects have been wholly evil. (1) It has been fatal
to one of the most wholesome of human beliefs, the
belief in the dignity of labour. Labour was irksome,
and therefore assigned to the slave, and consequently
came to be regarded as degrading. Thus the freeman
lost the ennobling discipline of toil; and to the slave
toil was not ennobling, because every one treated it as
a degradation. (2) It has been disastrous to the
personal character of the master. The possession of
absolute power is always dangerous to our nature.
Greek writers are never tired of insisting upon this in
connexion with the rule of despots over citizens.
Strangely enough they did not see that the principle
remained the same whether the autocrat was ruler of
a state or of a household. In either case he almost
inevitably became a tyrant, incapable of self-control,
and the constant victim of flattery. And in some ways
the domestic tyrant was the worse of the two. There
was no public opinion to keep him in check, and his
tyranny could exercise itself in every detail of daily life.
(3) It has been disastrous to the personal character of
the slave. Accustomed to be looked upon as an inferior
and scarcely human being, always at the beck and call
of another, and that for the most menial services, the
slave lost all self-respect. His natural weapon was
deceit; and his chief, if not his only pleasure, was the
gratification of his lowest appetites. The household
slave not unfrequently divided his time between
pandering to his master’s passions and gratifying his
own. (4) It has been ruinous to family life. If it
did not trouble the relation between husband and wife,
it poisoned the atmosphere in which they lived and
in which their children were reared. The younger
generation inevitably suffered. Even if they did not
learn cruelty from their parents, and deceit and
sensuality from the slaves, they lost delicacy of feeling
by seeing human beings treated like brute beasts, and
by being constantly in the society of those whom they
were taught to despise. Even Plato, in recommending
that slaves should be treated justly and with a view to
their moral improvement, says that they must always
be punished for their faults, and not reproved like
freemen, which only makes them conceited; and one
should use no language to them but that of
command.Laws, 777 D.
These evils, which are inherent in the very nature
of slavery, were intensified a hundredfold by Roman
legislation, and by the condition of Roman society in
the first century of the Christian era. Slavery, which
began by being a mitigation of the barbarities of
warfare, ended in becoming an augmentation of them.
Although a single campaign would sometimes bring in
many thousands of captives who were sold into slavery,
yet war did not procure slaves fast enough for the
demand, and was supplemented by systematic manhunts.
It has been estimated that in the Roman world
of St. Paul’s day the proportion of slaves to freemen
was in the ratio of two, or even three, to one. It was
the immense number of the slaves which led to some
of the cruel customs and laws respecting them. In
the country they often worked, and sometimes slept,
in chains. Even in Rome under Augustus the house-porter
was sometimes chained. And by a decree of the
Senate, if the master was murdered by a slave, all the
slaves of the household were put to death. The four
hundred slaves of Pedanius Secundus were executed
under this enactment in A.D. 61, in which year St. Paul
was probably in Rome. Public protest was made; but
the Senate decided that the law must take its course.
The rabble of slaves could only be kept in check by
fear. Again, if the master was accused of a crime, he
could surrender his slaves to be tortured in order to
prove his innocence.Tacitus, Ann. xiv. 42–45; iii. 14; comp. ii. 30 and iii. 67.
But it would be a vile task to rehearse all the horrors
and abominations to which the cruelty and lust of
wealthy Roman men and women subjected their slaves.
The bloody sports of the gladiatorial shows and the
indecent products of the Roman stage were partly the
effect and partly the cause of the frightful character of
Roman slavery. The gladiators and the actors were
slaves especially trained for these debasing exhibitions;
and Roman nobles and Roman ladies, brutalized
and polluted by witnessing them, went home to give
vent among the slaves of their own households to
the passions which the circus and the theatre had
roused.
And this was the system which St. Paul left unattacked
and undenounced. He never in so many
words expresses any authoritative condemnation or
personal abhorrence of it. This is all the more remarkable
when we remember St. Paul’s enthusiastic
and sympathetic temperament; and the fact is one
more proof of the Divine inspiration of Scripture.
That slavery, as he saw it, must often have excited the
most intense indignation and distress in his heart we
cannot doubt; and yet he was guided not to give his
sanction to remedies which would certainly have been
violent and possibly ineffectual. To have preached
that the Christian master must let his slaves go free,
would have been to preach that slaves had a right to
freedom; and the slave would understand that to mean
that, if freedom was not granted, he might take this
right of his by force. Of all wars, a servile war is
perhaps the most frightful; and we may be thankful
that none of those who first preached the Gospel, gave
their sanction to any such movement. The sudden
abolition of slavery in the first century would have
meant the shipwreck of society. Neither master nor
slave was fit for any such change. A long course of
education was needed before so radical a reform could
be successfully accomplished. It has been pointed out
as one of the chief marks of the Divine character of the
Gospel, that it never appeals to the spirit of political
revolution. It does not denounce abuses; but it insists
upon principles which will necessarily lead to their
abolition.
This was precisely what St. Paul did in dealing
with the gigantic cancer which was draining the forces,
economical, political, and moral, of Roman society.
He did not tell the slave that he was oppressed and
outraged. He did not tell the master that to buy and
sell human beings was a violation of the rights of man.
But he inspired both of them with sentiments which
rendered the permanence of the unrighteous relation
between them impossible. To many a Roman it would
have seemed nothing less than robbery and revolution
to tell him “You have no right to own these persons;
you must free your slaves.” St. Paul, without attacking
the rights of property or existing laws and customs,
spoke a far higher word, and one which sooner or later
must carry the freedom with it, when he said, “You
must love your slaves.” All the moral abominations
which had clustered round slavery,—idleness, deceit,
cruelty, and lust,—he denounced unsparingly; but for
their own sake, not because of their connexion with
this iniquitous institution. The social arrangements,
which allowed and encouraged slavery, he did not
denounce. He left it to the principles which he preached
gradually to reform them. Slavery cannot continue
when the brotherhood of all mankind, and the equality
of all men in Christ, have been realized. And long
before slavery is abolished, it is made more humane,
wherever Christian principles are brought to bear upon
it. Even before Christianity in the person of Constantine
ascended the imperial throne, it had influenced
public opinion in the right direction. Seneca and
Plutarch are much more humane in their views of
slavery than earlier writers are; and under the Antonines
the power of life and death over slaves was
transferred from their masters to the magistrates.
Constantine went much further, and Justinian further
still, in ameliorating the condition of slaves and encouraging
emancipation. Thus slowly, but surely, this
monstrous evil is being eradicated from society; and
it is one of the many beauties of the Gospel in comparison
with Islam, that whereas Mahometanism has
consecrated slavery and given it a permanent religious
sanction, Christianity has steadfastly abolished it. It
is among the chief glories of the present century that
it has seen the abolition of slavery in the British
empire, the emancipation of the serfs in Russia, and
the emancipation of the negroes in the United States.
And we may safely assert that these tardy removals of
a great social evil would never have been accomplished
but for the principles which St. Paul preached, at the
very time that he was allowing Christian masters to
retain their slaves, and bidding Christian slaves to
honour and obey their heathen masters.
The Apostle’s injunctions to slaves who have Christian
masters is worthy of special attention: it indicates
one of the evils which would certainly have become
serious, had the Apostles set to work to preach emancipation.
The slaves being in almost all cases quite
unfitted for a life of freedom, wholesale emancipation
would have flooded society with crowds of persons
quite unable to make a decent use of their newly
acquired liberty. The sudden change in their condition
would have been too great for their self-control. Indeed
we gather from what St. Paul says here, that the
acceptance of the principles of Christianity in some
cases threw them off their balance. He charges Christian
slaves who have Christian masters not to despise
them. Evidently this was a temptation which he foresaw,
even if it was not a fault which he had sometimes
observed. To be told that he and his master were
brethren, and to find that his master accepted this view
of their relationship, was more than the poor slave in
some instances could bear. He had been educated to
believe that he was an inferior order of being, having
scarcely anything in common, excepting a human form
and passions, with his master. And, whether he
accepted this belief or not, he had found himself systematically
treated as if it were indisputable. When,
therefore, he was assured, as one of the first principles
of his new faith, that he was not only human, like his
master, but in God’s family was his master’s equal and
brother; above all, when he had a Christian master
who not only shared this new faith, but acted upon it
and treated him as a brother, then his head was in
danger of being turned. The rebound from grovelling
fear to terms of equality and affection was too much
for him; and the old attitude of cringing terror was
exchanged not for respectful loyalty, but for contempt.
He began to despise the master who had ceased to
make himself terrible. All this shows how dangerous
sudden changes of social relationships are; and how
warily we need to go to work in order to bring about
a reform of those which most plainly need readjustment;
and it adds greatly to our admiration of the wisdom of
the Apostle and our gratitude to Him Who inspired him
with such wisdom, to see that in dealing with this
difficult problem he does not allow his sympathies to
outrun his judgment, and does not attempt to cure a
long-standing evil, which had entwined its roots round
the very foundations of society, by any rapid or violent
process. All men are by natural right free. Granted.
All men are by creation children of God, and by redemption
brethren in Christ. Granted. But it is
worse than useless to give freedom suddenly to those
who from their birth have been deprived of it, and do
not yet know what use to make of it; and to give the
position of children and brethren all at once to outcasts
who cannot understand what such privileges mean.
St. Paul tells the slave that freedom is a thing to
be desired; but still more that it is a thing to be
deserved. “While you are still under the yoke prove
yourselves worthy of it and capable of bearing it.
In becoming Christians you have become Christ’s
freeman. Show that you can enjoy that liberty without
abusing it. If it leads you to treat a heathen
master with disdain, because he has it not, then you
give him an opportunity of blaspheming God and
your holy religion; for he can say, ‘What a vile creed
this must be, which makes servants haughty and disrespectful!’
If it leads you to treat a Christian
master with contemptuous familiarity, because he
recognizes you as a brother whom he must love,
then you are turning upside down the obligation which
a common faith imposes on you. That he is a fellow-Christian
is a reason why you should treat him with
more reverence, not less.” This is ever the burden
of his exhortation to slaves. He bids Timothy to
insist upon it. He tells Titus to do the same
(ii. 9, 10). Slaves were in special danger of misunderstanding
what the liberty of the Gospel meant.
It is not for a moment to be supposed that it cancels
any existing obligations of a slave to his master. No
hint is to be given them that they have a right to
demand emancipation, or would be justified in running
away. Let them learn to behave as the Lord’s freeman.
Let their masters learn to behave as the Lord’s
bond-servants. When these principles have worked
themselves out, slavery will have ceased to be.
That day has not yet come, but the progress already
made, especially during the present century, leads
us to hope that it may be near. But the extinction
of slavery will not deprive St. Paul’s treatment of
it of its practical interest and value. His inspired
wisdom in dealing with this problem ought to be our
guide in dealing with the scarcely less momentous
problems which confront us at the present day. We
have social difficulties to deal with, whose magnitude
and character make them not unlike that of slavery
in the first ages of Christianity. There are the relations
between capital and labour, the prodigious
inequalities in the distribution of wealth, the degradation
which is involved in the crowding of population
in the great centres of industry. In attempting to
remedy such things, let us, while we catch enthusiasm
from St. Paul’s sympathetic zeal, not forget his
patience and discretion. Monstrous evils are not,
like giants in the old romances, to be slain at a blow.
They are deeply rooted; and if we attempt to tear
them up, we may pull up the foundations of society
along with them. We must be content to work slowly
and without violence. We have no right to preach
revolution and plunder to those who are suffering
from undeserved poverty, any more than St. Paul
had to preach revolt to the slaves. Drastic remedies
of that kind will cause much enmity, and perhaps
bloodshed, in the carrying out, and will work no
permanent cure in the end. It is incredible that the
well-being of mankind can be promoted by stirring
up ill-will and hatred between a suffering class and
those who seem to have it in their power to relieve
them. Charity, we know, never faileth; but neither
Scripture nor experience has taught us that violence
is a sure road to success. We need more faith in
the principles of Christianity and in their power to
promote happiness as well as godliness. What is
required, is not a sudden redistribution of wealth, or
laws to prevent its accumulation, but a proper appreciation
of its value. Rich and poor alike have yet
to learn what is really worth having in this world.
It is not wealth, but happiness. And happiness is
to be found neither in gaining, nor in possessing, nor
in spending money, but in being useful. To serve
others, to spend and be spent for them,—that is the
ideal to place before mankind; and just in proportion
as it is reached, will the frightful inequalities between
class and class, and between man and man, cease to
be. It is a lesson that takes much teaching and
much learning. Meanwhile it seems a terrible thing
to leave whole generations suffering from destitution,
just as it was a terrible thing to leave whole generations
groaning in slavery. But a general manumission
would not have helped matters then; and a
general distribution to the indigent would not help
matters now. The remedy adopted then was a slow
one, but it has been efficacious. The master was not
told to emancipate his slave, and the slave was not
told to run away from his master; but each was
charged to behave to the other, the master in commanding
and the slave in obeying, as Christian to
Christian in the sight of God. Let us not doubt
that the same remedy now, if faithfully applied, will
be not less effectual. Do not tell the rich man that
he must share his wealth with those who have nothing.
Do not tell the poor man that he has a right to a
share, and may seize it, if it is not given. But by
precept and example show to both alike that the
one thing worth living for is to promote the well-being
of others. And let the experience of the past
convince us that any remedy which involves a violent
reconstruction of society is sure to be dangerous
and may easily prove futile.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE GAIN OF A LOVE OF GODLINESS, AND THE
UNGODLINESS OF A LOVE OF GAIN.
“Wranglings of men corrupted in mind and bereft of the truth,
supposing that godliness is a way of gain. But godliness with contentment
is great gain: for we brought nothing into the world, for
neither can we carry anything out....
“Charge them that are rich in this present world, that they be not
high minded, nor have their hope set on the uncertainty of riches, but
on God, Who gives us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good,
that they be rich in good works, that they be ready to distribute,
willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good
foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on the
life which is life indeed.”—1 Tim. vi. 5–7, 17–19.
It is evident that the subject of avarice is much in
the Apostle’s mind during the writing of the last
portion of this Epistle. He comes upon it here in
connexion with the teachers of false doctrine, and
speaks strongly on the subject. Then he writes what
appears to be a solemn conclusion to the letter (vv. 11–16).
And then, as if he was oppressed by the danger
of large possessions as promoting an avaricious spirit,
he charges Timothy to warn the wealthy against the
folly and wickedness of selfish hoarding. He, as it
were, re-opens his letter in order to add this charge,
and then writes a second conclusion. He cannot feel
happy until he has driven home this lesson about the
right way of making gain, and the right way of laying
up treasure. It is such a common heresy, and such a
fatal one, to believe that gold is wealth, and that wealth
is the chief good.
“Wranglings of men corrupted in mind and bereft of
the truth.” That is how St. Paul describes the “dissidence
of dissent,” as it was known to him by grievous
experience. There were men who had once been in
possession of a sound mind, whereby to recognize and
grasp the truth; and they had grasped the truth, and
for a time retained it. But they had “given heed to
seducing spirits,” and had allowed themselves to be
robbed of both these treasures,—not only the truth, but
the mental power of appreciating the truth. And what
had they in the place of what they had lost? Incessant
contentions among themselves. Having lost the truth,
they had no longer any centre of agreement. Error
is manifold and its paths are labyrinthine. When two
minds desert the truth, there is no reason why they
should remain in harmony any more; and each has a
right to believe that his own substitute for the truth is
the only one worth considering. As proof that their
soundness of mind is gone, and that they are far away
from the truth, St. Paul states the fact that they “suppose
that godliness is a way of gain.”
It is well known that the scholars whose labours during
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries produced at last
the Authorized Version, were not masters of the force of
the Greek article. Its uses had not yet been analysed
in the thorough way in which they have been analysed
in the present century. Perhaps the text before us is
the most remarkable among the numerous errors which
are the result of this imperfect knowledge. It seems
so strange that those who perpetrated it were not
puzzled by their own mistake, and that their perplexity
did not put them right. What kind of people could
they have been who “supposed that gain was godliness”?
Did such an idea ever before enter into the
head of any person? And if it did, could he have
retained it? People have devoted their whole souls
to gain, and have worshipped it as if it were Divine.
But no man ever yet believed, or acted as if he believed,
that gain was godliness. To make money-getting a
substitute for religion, in allowing it to become the one
absorbing occupation of mind and body, is one thing:
to believe it to be religion is quite another.
But what St. Paul says of the opinions of these
perverted men is exactly the converse of this: not that
they supposed “gain to be godliness,” but that they
supposed “godliness to be a means of gain.” They
considered godliness, or rather the “form of godliness”
which was all that they really possessed, to be a profitable
investment. Christianity to them was a “profession”
in the mercantile sense, and a profession that
paid: and they embarked upon it, just as they would
upon any other speculation which offered equally good
hopes of being remunerative.
The Apostle takes up this perverted and mean view
of religion, and shows that in a higher sense it is perfectly
true. Just as Caiaphas, while meaning to express
a base and cold-blooded policy of expediency, had given
utterance to a profound truth about Christ, so these
false teachers had got hold of principles which could
be formulated so as to express a profound truth about
Christ’s religion. There is a very real sense in which
godliness (genuine godliness and not the mere externals
of it) is even in this world a fruitful source of gain.
Honesty, so long as it be not practised merely as a
policy, is the best policy. “Righteousness exalteth a
nation”: it invariably pays in the long run. And
so “Godliness with contentment is great gain.” They
suppose that godliness is a good investment:—in quite
a different sense from that which they have in their
minds, it really is so. And the reason of this is
manifest.
It has already been shown that “godliness is profitable
for all things.” It makes a man a better master,
a better servant, a better citizen, and both in mind and
body a healthier and therefore a stronger man. Above
all it makes him a happier man; for it gives him that
which is the foundation of all happiness in this life,
and the foretaste of happiness in the world to come,—a
good conscience. A possession of such value as
this cannot be otherwise than great gain: especially
if it be united, as it probably will be united, with contentment.
It is in the nature of the godly man to be
content with what God has given him. But godliness
and contentment are not identical; and therefore, in
order to make his meaning quite clear, the Apostle
says not merely “godliness,” but “godliness with
contentment.” Either of these qualities far exceeds
in value the profitable investment which the false
teachers saw in the profession of godliness. They
found that it paid; that it had a tendency to advance
their worldly interests. But after all even mere worldly
wealth does not consist in the abundance of the things
which a man possesses. That man is well off, who has
as much as he wants; and that man is rich, who has
more than he wants. Wealth cannot be measured by
any absolute standard. We cannot name an income
to rise above which is riches, and to fall below which
is poverty. Nor is it enough to take into account
the unavoidable calls which are made upon the man’s
purse, in order to know whether he is well off or not:
we must also know something of his desires. When
all legitimate claims have been discharged, is he
satisfied with what remains for his own use? Is he
contented? If he is, then he is indeed well-to-do. If
he is not, then the chief element of wealth is still lacking
to him.
The Apostle goes on to enforce the truth of the
statement that even in this world godliness with
contentment is a most valuable possession, far superior
to a large income; and to urge that, even from the
point of view of earthly prosperity and happiness,
those people make a fatal mistake who devote themselves
to the accumulation of wealth, without placing
any check upon their growing and tormenting desires,
and without knowing how to make a good use of the
wealth which they are accumulating. With a view
to enforce all this he repeats two well-known and
indisputable propositions: “We brought nothing into
the world” and “We can carry nothing out.” As to
the words which connect these two propositions in
the original Greek, there seems to be some primitive
error which we cannot now correct with any certainty.
We are not sure whether one proposition is given as
a reason for accepting the other, and, if so, which is
premise and which is conclusion. But this is of no
moment. Each statement singly has been abundantly
proved by the experience of mankind, and no one
would be likely to dispute either. One of the earliest
books in human literature has them as its opening
moral. “Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and
naked shall I return thither,” are Job’s words in the
day of his utter ruin; and they have been assented
to by millions of hearts ever since.
“We brought nothing into the world.” What right
then have we to be discontented with what has since
been given to us? “We can take nothing out.”
What folly, therefore, to spend all our time in amassing
wealth, which at the time of our departure we shall
be obliged to leave behind us! There is the case
against avarice in a nutshell. Never contented. Never
knowing what it is to rest and be thankful. Always
nervously anxious about the preservation of what has
been gained, and laboriously toiling in order to augment
it. What a contrast to the godly man, who has found
true independence in a trustful dependence upon the
God Whom he serves! Godliness with contentment
is indeed great gain.
There is perhaps no more striking example of the
incorrigible perversity of human nature than the fact
that, in spite of all experience to the contrary, generation
after generation continues to look upon mere
wealth as the thing best worth striving after. Century
after century we find men telling us, often with much
emphasis and bitterness, that great possessions are an
imposture, that they promise happiness and never give
it. And yet those very men continue to devote their
whole energies to the retention and increase of their
possessions: or, if they do not, they hardly ever
succeed in convincing others that happiness is not
to be found in such things. If they could succeed,
there would be far more contented, and therefore far
more happy people in the world than can be found
at present. It is chiefly the desire for greater temporal
advantages than we have at present that makes us
discontented. We should be a long way on the road
to contentment, if we could thoroughly convince
ourselves that what are commonly called temporal
advantages—such as large possessions, rank, power,
honours, and the like—are on the whole not advantages;
that they more often detract from this world’s
joys than augment them, while they are always a
serious danger, and sometimes a grievous impediment,
in reference to the joys of the world to come.
What man of wealth and position does not feel day
by day the worries and anxieties and obligations,
which his riches and rank impose upon him. Does he
not often wish that he could retire to some cottage and
there live quietly on a few hundreds a year, and sometimes
even seriously think of doing it? But at other
times he fancies that his unrest and disquiet is owing
to his not having enough. If he could only have some
thousands a year added to his present income, then he
would cease to be anxious about the future; he could
afford to lose some and still have sufficient. If he could
only attain to a higher position in society, then he
would feel secure from detraction or serious downfall;
he would be able to treat with unconcerned neglect the
criticisms which are now such a source of annoyance
to him. And in most cases this latter view prevails.
What determines his conduct is not the well-grounded
suspicion that he already has more than is good for
him; that it is his abundance which is destroying his
peace of mind; but the baseless conviction that an
increase of the gifts of this world will win for him the
happiness that he has failed to secure. The experience
of the past rarely destroys this fallacy. He knows that
his enjoyment of life has not increased with his fortune.
Perhaps he can see clearly that he was a happier man
when he possessed much less. But, nevertheless, he
still cherishes the belief that with a few things more he
would be contented, and for those few things more he
continues to slave. There is no man in this world that
has not found out over and over again that success,
even the most complete success, in the attainment of
any worldly desire, however innocent or laudable, does
not bring the permanent satisfaction which was anticipated.
Sooner or later the feeling of satiety, and
therefore of disappointment, must set in. And of all
the countless thousands who have had this experience,
how few there are that have been able to draw the
right conclusion, and to act upon it!
And when we take into account the difficulties and
dangers which a large increase in the things of this
world places in the way of our advance towards moral
and spiritual perfection, we have a still stronger case
against the fallacy that increase of wealth brings an
increase in well-being. The care of the things which
we possess takes up thought and time, which could be
far more happily employed on nobler objects; and it
leads us gradually into the practical conviction that
these nobler objects, which have so continually to be
neglected in order to make room for other cares, are
really of less importance. It is impossible to go on
ignoring the claims which intellectual and spiritual
exercises have upon our attention without becoming
less alive to those claims. We become, not contented,
but self-sufficient in the worst sense. We acquiesce in
the low and narrow aims which a devotion to worldly
advancement has imposed upon us. We habitually act
as if there were no other life but this one; and consequently
we cease to take much interest in the other
life beyond the grave; while even as regards the
things of this world our interests become confined to
those objects which can gratify our absorbing desire
for financial prosperity.
Nor does the mischief done to our best moral and
spiritual interests end here; especially if we are what
the world calls successful. The man who steadily
devotes himself to the advancement of his worldly
position, and who succeeds in a very marked way in
raising himself, is likely to acquire in the process a
kind of brutal self-confidence, very detrimental to his
character. He started with nothing, and he now has
a fortune. He was once a shop-boy, and he is now
a country gentleman. And he has done it all by his
own shrewdness, energy, and perseverance. The
result is that he makes no account of Providence, and
very little of the far greater merits of less conspicuously
successful men. A contempt for men and things that
would have given him a higher view of this life, and
some idea of a better life, is the penalty which he pays
for his disastrous prosperity.
But his case is one of the most hopeless, whose
desire for worldly advantages has settled down into a
mere love of money. The worldly man, whose leading
ambition is to rise to a more prominent place in society,
to outshine his neighbours in the appointments of his
house and in the splendour of his entertainments, to be
of importance on all public occasions, and the like, is
morally in a far less desperate condition than the miser.
There is no vice more deadening to every noble and
tender feeling than avarice. It is capable of extinguishing
all mercy, all pity, all natural affection. It
can make the claims of the suffering and sorrowful, even
when they are combined with those of an old friend, or
a wife, or a child, fall on deaf ears. It can banish from
the heart not only all love, but all shame and self-respect.
What does the miser care for the execrations
of outraged society, so long as he can keep his gold?
There is no heartless or mean act, and very often no
deed of fraud or violence, from which he will shrink in
order to augment or preserve his hoards. Assuredly
the Apostle is right when he calls the love of money a
“root of all kinds of evil.” There is no iniquity to
which it does not form one of the nearest roads. Every
criminal who wants an accomplice can have the avaricious
man as his helper, if he only bids high enough.
And note that, unlike almost every other vice, it never
loses its hold: its deadly grip is never for an instant
relaxed. The selfish man can at a crisis become self-sacrificing,
at any rate for a time. The sensualist has
his moments when his nobler nature gets the better of
his passions, and he spares those whom he thought to
make his victims. The drunkard can sometimes be
lured by affection or innocent enjoyments to forego
the gratification of his craving. And there are times
when even pride, that watchful and subtle foe, sleeps at
its post and suffers humble thoughts to enter. But the
demon avarice never slumbers, and is never off its
guard. When it has once taken full possession of a
man’s heart, neither love, nor pity, nor shame, can ever
surprise it into an act of generosity. We all of us
have our impulses; and, however little we may act
upon them, we are conscious that some of our impulses
are generous. Some of the worst of us could lay
claim to as much as that. But the miser’s nature is
poisoned at its very source. Even his impulses are
tainted. Sights and sounds which make other hardened
sinners at least wish to help, if only to relieve their own
distress at such pitiful things, make him instinctively
tighten his purse-strings. Gold is his god; and there is
no god who exacts from his worshippers such undivided
and unceasing devotion. Family, friends, country,
comfort, health, and honour must all be sacrificed at
its shrine. Certainly the lust for gold is one of those
“foolish and hurtful lusts, such as drown men in
destruction and perdition.”
In wealthy Ephesus, with its abundant commerce,
the desire to be rich was a common passion; and St.
Paul feared—perhaps he knew—that in the Church in
Ephesus the mischief was present and increasing.
Hence this earnest reiteration of strong warnings
against it. Hence the reopening of the letter in order
to tell Timothy to charge the rich not to be self-confident
and arrogant, not to trust in the wealth which
may fail them, but in the God Who cannot do so; and
to remind them that the only way to make riches secure
is to give them to God and to His work. The wealthy
heathen in Ephesus were accustomed to deposit their
treasures with “the great goddess Diana,” whose
temple was both a sanctuary and a bank. Let Christian
merchants deposit theirs with God by being “rich in
good works;” so that, when He called them to Himself,
they might receive their own with usury, and “lay hold
on the life which is life indeed.”
THE EPISTLE TO TITUS.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE EPISTLE TO TITUS.—HIS LIFE AND
CHARACTER.
“Paul, a servant of God, and an apostle of Jesus Christ ... to
Titus, my true child after a common faith: Grace and peace from God
the Father, and Christ Jesus our Saviour”—Titus i. 1, 4.
The title “Pastoral Epistle” is as appropriate to
the Epistle to Titus as to the First Epistle to
Timothy. Although there is a good deal in the letter
that is personal rather than pastoral, yet the pastoral
element is the main one. The bulk of the letter is
taken up with questions of Church doctrine and government,
the treatment of the faithful members of the congregation
and of the unruly and erring. The letter
is addressed to Titus, not as a private individual, but
as the delegate of the Apostle holding office in Crete.
Hence, as in the First Epistle to Timothy, St. Paul
styles himself an Apostle: and the official character
of this letter is still further marked by the long and
solemn superscription. It is evidently intended to be
read by other persons besides the minister to whom
it is addressed.
The question of the authenticity of the Epistle to
Titus, has already been in a great measure discussed
in the first of these expositions. It was pointed out
there that the external evidence for the genuineness in
all three cases is very strong, beginning almost certainly
with Clement of Rome, Ignatius, and Polycarp, becoming
clear and certain in Irenæus, and being abundant
in Clement of Alexandria and Tertullian. Of the very
few people who rejected them, Tatian seems to have
been almost alone in making a distinction between
them. He accepted the Epistle to Titus, while rejecting
the two to Timothy. We may rejoice that Tatian,
Marcion, and others raised the question. It cannot be
said that the Churches accepted this Epistle without
consideration. Those who possessed evidence now no
longer extant were convinced, in spite of the objections
urged, that in this letter and its two companions we
have genuine writings of St. Paul.
With regard to modern objections, it may be freely
admitted that there is no room in St. Paul’s life, as given
in the Acts, for the journey to Crete, and the winter at
Nicopolis required by the Epistle to Titus. But there
is plenty of room for both of these outside the Acts, viz.,
between the first and second imprisonment of the
Apostle. And, as we have already seen good reason
for believing in the case of 1 Timothy, the condition
of the Church indicated in this letter is such as was
already in existence in St. Paul’s time; and the
language used in treating of it resembles that of the
Apostle in a way which helps us to believe that we
are reading his own words and not those of a skilful
imitator. For this imitator must have been a strange
person; very skilful in some things, very eccentric in
others. Why does he give St. Paul and Titus a work
in Crete of which there is no mention in the Acts?
Why does he make the Apostle ask Titus to meet him
in Nicopolis, a place never named in connexion with
St. Paul? Why bracket a well-known person, like
Apollos, with an utterly unknown person, such as
Zenas? It is not easy to believe in this imitator.
Yet another point of resemblance should be noted.
Here, as in 1 Timothy, there is no careful arrangement
of the material. The subjects are not put together in
a studied order, as in a treatise with a distinct theological
or controversial purpose. They follow one
another in a natural manner, just as they occur to the
writer. Persons with their hearts and heads full of
things which they wish to say to a friend, do not sit
down with an analysis before them to secure an orderly
arrangement of what they wish to write. They start
with one of the main topics, and then the treatment
of this suggests something else: and they are not distressed
if they repeat themselves, or if they have to
return to a subject which has been touched upon before
and then dropped. This is just the kind of writing
which meets us once more in the letter to Titus. It is
thoroughly natural. It is not easy to believe that a
forger in the second century could have thrown himself
with such simplicity into the attitude which the letter
pre-supposes.
It is not possible to determine whether this letter
was written before or after the First to Timothy. But
it was certainly written before the Second to Timothy.
Therefore, while one has no sufficient reason for taking
it before the one, one has excellent reason for taking
it before the other. The precise year and the precise
place in which it was written, we must be content to
leave unsettled. It may be doubted whether either the
one or the other would throw much light on the contents
of the letter. These are determined by what the
Apostle remembers and expects concerning affairs in
Crete, and not by his own surroundings. It is the
official position of Titus in Crete which is chiefly before
his mind.
Titus, as we learn from the opening words of the
letter, was, like Timothy, converted to Christianity by
St. Paul. The Apostle calls him “his true child after
a common faith.” As regards his antecedents he was
a marked contrast to Timothy. Whereas Timothy had
been brought up as a Jew under the care of his Jewish
mother Eunice, and had been circumcised by St. Paul’s
desire, Titus was wholly a Gentile, and “was not compelled
to be circumcised,” as St. Paul states in the
passage in which he tells the Galatians (ii. 1—3) that
he took Titus with him to Jerusalem on the occasion
when he and Barnabas went thither seventeen years
after St. Paul’s conversion. Paul and Barnabas went
up to Jerusalem on that occasion to protect Gentile
converts from the Judaizers, who wanted to make all
such converts submit to circumcision. Titus and others
went with them as representatives of the Gentile converts,
and in their persons a formal protest was made
against this imposition. It is quite possible that Titus
was with St. Paul when he wrote to the Galatians;
and if so this mention of him becomes all the more
natural. We may fancy the Apostle saying to Titus,
as he wrote the letter, “I shall remind them of your case,
which is very much to the point.” Whether Titus was
personally known to the Galatian Church is not certain;
but he is spoken of as one of whom they have at any
rate heard.
Titus was almost certainly one of those who carried
the First Epistle to the Corinthian Church, i.e., the
first of the two that have come down to us; and St.
Paul awaited his report of the reception which the
letter had met with at Corinth with the utmost anxiety.
And he was quite certainly one of those who were
entrusted with the Second Epistle to the Corinthians.
St. Paul wrote the first letter at Ephesus about Easter,
probably in the year 57. He left Ephesus about
Pentecost, and went to Troas, where he hoped to meet
Titus with news from Corinth. After waiting in vain
he went on to Macedonia in grievous anxiety; and
there Titus met him. He at once began the second
letter, which apparently was written piece-meal during
the journey; and when it was completed he sent Titus
back to Corinth with it.
That Titus should twice have been sent as the
messenger and representative of St. Paul to a Church
in which difficulties of the gravest kind had arisen,
gives us a clear indication of the Apostle’s estimate of
his character. He must have been a person of firmness,
discretion, and tact. There was the monstrous case of
incest, the disputes between the rival factions, contentions
in public worship and even at the Eucharist,
litigation before the heathen, and wild ideas about the
resurrection, not to mention other matters which were
difficult enough, although of a less burning character.
And in all these questions it was the vain, fitful,
vivacious, and sensitive Corinthians who had to be
managed and induced to take the Apostle’s words (which
sometimes were very sharp and severe) patiently. Nor
was this all. Besides the difficulties in the Church of
Corinth there was the collection for the poor Christians
in Judæa, about which St. Paul was deeply interested,
and which had not been progressing in Corinth as he
wished. St. Paul was doubly anxious that it should
be a success; first, because it proved to the Jewish
converts that his interest in them was substantial, in
spite of his opposition to some of their views; secondly,
because it served to counteract the tendency to part
asunder, which was manifesting itself between the
Jewish and Gentile Christians. And in carrying out
St. Paul’s instructions about these matters Titus evidently
had to suffer a good deal of opposition; and
hence the Apostle writes a strong commendation of
him, coupling him with himself in his mission and zeal.
“Whether any inquire about Titus, he is my partner
and my fellow-worker to you-ward.” “Thanks be to
God, which putteth the same earnest care for you into
the heart of Titus. For indeed he accepted our exhortation;
but being himself very earnest, he went forth unto
you of his own accord.” With great delicacy the
Apostle takes care that, in making it clear to the
Corinthians that Titus has his full authority for what
he does, no slight is cast upon Titus’s own zeal and
interest in the Corinthians. “He is my representative;
but he comes of his own free will out of love to you.
His visit to you is his own doing; but he has my
entire sanction. He is neither a mechanical delegate,
nor an unauthorized volunteer.”
A curtain falls on the career of this valued help-mate
of the great Apostle, from the time when he carried the
second letter to Corinth to the time when the letter to
himself was written. The interval was probably some
eight or ten years, about which we know only one
thing, that during it, and probably in the second half
of it, the Apostle and Titus had been together in Crete,
and Titus had been left behind to consolidate the
Church there. The Acts tell us nothing. Probably
Titus is not mentioned in the book at all. The reading
“Titus Justus” in xviii. 7, is possibly correct, but it is
far from certain: and even if it were certain, we should
still remain in doubt whether Titus and Titus Justus
are the same person. And the attempts which have
been made to identify Titus with other persons in the
Acts, such as Silvanus or Timothy, are scarcely worth
considering. Nor has the conjecture that Titus is the
author of the Acts (as Krenkel, Jacobsen, and recently
Hooykaas in the Bible for Young People have suggested)
very much to recommend it. The hypothesis
has two facts to support it: (1) the silence of the Acts
respecting Titus, and (2) the fact that the writer must
have been a companion of St. Paul. But these two
facts are equally favourable to the tradition that St.
Luke was the author, a tradition for which the evidence
is both very early and very abundant. Why should
such a tradition yield to a mere conjecture?
One thing, however, we may accept as certain:—that
the time when St. Paul was being carried a prisoner to
Rome in an Alexandrian corn-ship which touched at
Crete, was not the time when the Church in Crete was
founded. What opportunity would a prisoner have of
doing any such work during so short a stay? Cretans
were among those who heard the Apostles at Pentecost
preaching in their own tongue the wonderful works of
God. Some of these may have returned home and
formed the first beginnings of a Christian congregation:
and among imperfect converts of this kind we might
expect to find the errors of which St. Paul treats in this
Epistle. But we can hardly suppose that there was
much of Christian organization until St. Paul and Titus
came to the island after the Apostle’s first Roman
imprisonment. And the necessity of having some one
with a calm head and a firm hand on the spot, forced
the Apostle to leave his companion behind him. The
man who had been so successful in aiding him respecting
the difficulties at Corinth was just the man to be
entrusted with a somewhat similar but rather more
permanent post in Crete. The Cretans were less
civilized, but in their own way scarcely less immoral,
than the Corinthians; and in both cases the national
failings caused serious trouble in the Church. In both
cases ecclesiastical authority has to be firmly upheld
against those who question and oppose it. In both cases
social turbulence has to be kept in check. In both
cases there is a tendency to wild theological and philosophical
speculations, and (on the part of some) to a
bigoted maintenance of Jewish ordinances and superstitions.
Against all these Titus will have to contend
with decision, and if need be with severity.
The letter, in which directions are given for the
carrying out of all this, is evidence of the great confidence
which the Apostle reposed in him. One of
those who had worked also in Corinth, is either already
with him in Crete, or may soon be expected,—Apollos,
and with him Zenas. So that the Corinthian experience
is doubly represented. Other helpers are coming,
viz., Artemas and Tychicus; and, when they arrive,
Titus will be free to rejoin the Apostle, and is to lose
no time in doing so at Nicopolis.
One commission Titus has in Crete which very
naturally was not given to him at Corinth. He is to
perfect the organization of the Christian Church in the
island by appointing elders in every city. And it is
this charge among others which connects this letter so
closely with the first to Timothy, which very likely was
written about the same time.
Whether Titus was set free from his heavy charge in
Crete in time to join St. Paul at Nicopolis, we have no
means of knowing. At the time when the second letter
to Timothy was written, Titus had gone to Dalmatia;
but we are left in doubt as to whether he had gone
thither by St. Paul’s desire, or (like Demas in going to
Thessalonica) against it. Nor does it appear whether
Titus had gone to Dalmatia from Nicopolis, which
is not far distant, or had followed the Apostle from
Nicopolis to Rome, and thence gone to Illyria. With
the journey to Dalmatia our knowledge of him ends.
Tradition takes him back to Crete as permanent bishop;
and in the Middle Ages the Cretans seem to have
regarded him as their patron saint.
The impression left upon our mind by the Acts is
that St. Luke knew Timothy and did not know Titus:
and hence frequently mentions the one and says nothing
about the other. The impression left upon our mind
by the mention of both in Paul’s Epistles, and by the
letters addressed to each, is that Titus, though less
tenderly beloved by the Apostle, was the stronger man
of the two. St. Paul seems to be less anxious about
the conduct of Titus and about the way in which others
will treat him. The directions as to his personal
behaviour are much slighter than in the case of
Timothy. He seems to credit him with less sensitiveness
and more decision and tact; perhaps also with
less liability to be carried away by fanatical views and
practices than the other.
Titus shares with Timothy the glory of having given
up everything in order to throw in his lot with St. Paul,
and of being one of his most trusted and efficient
helpers. What that meant the Epistles of St. Paul tell
us:—ceaseless toil and anxiety, much shame and
reproach, and not a little peril to life itself. He also
shares with Timothy the glory of being willing, when
the cause required such sacrifice, to separate from the
master to whom he had surrendered himself, and to
work on by himself in isolation and difficulty. The
latter was possibly the more trying sacrifice of the two.
To give up all his earthly prospects and all the sweetness
of home life, in order to work for the spread of
the Gospel side by side with St. Paul, was no doubt a
sacrifice that must have cost those who made it a great
deal. But it had its attractive side. Quite independently
of the beauty and majesty of the cause itself,
there was the delight of being associated with a leader
so able, so sagacious, so invigorating, and so affectionate
as the Apostle who “became all things to all men that
he might by all means save some.” Hard work
became light, and difficulties became smooth, under the
inspiriting sympathy of such a colleague. But it was
quite another thing to have given up everything for the
sake of such companionship and support, or at least in
the full expectation of enjoying it, and then to have to
undergo the hard work and confront the difficulties
without it. The new dispensation in this respect
repeats the old. Elisha leaves his home and his inheritance
to follow Elijah, and then Elijah is taken from
him. Timothy and Titus leave their homes and possessions
to follow St. Paul, and then St. Paul sends them
away from him. And to this arrangement they consented,
Timothy (as we know) with tears, Titus (we
may be sure) with much regret. And what it cost the
loving Apostle thus to part with them and to pain them
we see from the tone of affectionate longing which
pervades these letters.
The example set by both master and disciples is one
which Christians, and especially Christian ministers,
must from time to time need. Christ sent forth both
the Twelve and the Seventy “two and two”; and what
is true of mankind generally is true also of the ministry—“It
is not good for man to be alone.” But cases
often arise in which not more than one man can be
spared for each post; and then those who have been
all in all to one another, in sympathy and counsel and
co-operation, have to part. And it is one of the
greatest sacrifices that can be required of them. Paul
and Timothy and Titus were willing to make this
sacrifice; and it is one which Christ’s servants throughout
all ages are called upon at times to make. Many
men are willing to face, especially in a good cause,
what is repulsive to them, if they have the company of
others in the trial, especially if they have the presence
and support of those whose presence is in itself a
refreshment, and their support a redoubling of strength.
But to enter upon a long and trying task with the full
expectation of such advantages, and then to be called
upon to surrender them,—this is, indeed, a trial which
might well make the weak-hearted turn back. But
their devotion to their Lord’s work, and their confidence
in His sustaining power, enabled the Apostle and his
two chief disciples to make the venture; and the
marvellous success of the Church in the age which
immediately succeeded them, shows how their sacrifice
was blessed. And we may be sure that even in this
world they had their reward. “Verily I say unto you,
There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or
sisters, or mother, or father, or children, or lands, for
My sake, and for the Gospel’s sake, but he shall
receive a hundredfold now in this time, houses, and
brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and
lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come
eternal life.”
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CHURCH IN CRETE AND ITS ORGANIZATION.—THE
APOSTLE’S DIRECTIONS FOR APPOINTING
ELDERS.
“For this cause left I thee in Crete, that thou shouldest set in
order the things that were wanting, and appoint elders in every city,
as I gave thee charge; if any man is blameless, the husband of one
wife, having children that believe, who are not accused of riot or
unruly. For the bishop must be blameless, as God’s steward.”—Titus
i. 5–7.
This passage tells us a great deal about the circumstances
which led to the writing of the letter.
They have been touched upon in the previous chapter,
but may be treated more comprehensively here.
It is quite evident: (1) that the Gospel had been
established in Crete for a considerable time when St.
Paul wrote this to his delegate, Titus; (2) that during
the Apostle’s stay in the island he had been unable to
complete the work which he had in view with regard
to the full establishment of the Church there; and (3)
that one of the chief things which remained undone,
and which St. Paul had been compelled to leave to
Titus to accomplish, was a properly organized ministry.
There was a large and scattered flock; but for the
most part it was without shepherds.
It is quite possible that the Gospel of Christ was
at least known, if not by any one believed, in Crete
before St. Paul visited the islands. Cretans were
among those who heard the miraculous preaching of
the Apostles on the day of Pentecost; and some of
these may have returned to their country, if not
converts to Christianity, at any rate full of what they
had seen and heard of “the mighty works of God,”
as shown forth in the words spoken on that day, and
in their consequences. Certainly there were many
Jews in the island; and these, though often the bitterest
opponents of the Gospel, were nevertheless the readiest
and best converts, when they did not oppose; for
they already knew and worshipped the true God, and
they were acquainted with the prophecies respecting
the Messiah. We may therefore conclude that the
way was already prepared for the preaching of Christ,
even if He as yet had no worshippers in Crete, before
St. Paul began to teach there.
There are three things which tend to show that
Christianity had been spreading in Crete for at least
some years when the Apostle wrote this letter to Titus.
First, the latter is charged to “appoint elders in every
city,” or “city by city,” as we might render the original
expression (κατὰ πόλιν). This implies that among the
multitude of cities, for which Crete even in Homer’s
day had been famous, not a few had a Christian
congregation in need of supervision; and it is not
improbable that the congregation in some cases was a
large one. For the interpretation is certainly an untenable
one which forces into the Apostle’s words a
restriction which they do not contain, that each city
is to have just one presbyter and no more. St. Paul
tells Titus to take care that no city is left without a
presbyter. Each Christian community is to have its
proper ministry; it is not to be left to its own guidance.
But how many elders each congregation is to have, is
a point to be decided by Titus according to the principles
laid down for him by St. Paul. For we must not limit
the “as I gave thee charge” to the mere fact of appointing
elders. The Apostle had told him, not merely
that elders must be appointed, but that they must be
appointed in a particular way, and according to a
prescribed system. The passage, therefore, tells us
that there were a good many cities in which there were
Christian congregations, and leaves us quite free to
believe that some of these congregations were large
enough to require several elders to minister to them
and govern them. Secondly, the kind of person to be
selected as overseer seems to imply that Christianity
has been established for a considerable time among the
Cretans. The “elder” or “bishop” (for in this passage,
at any rate, the two names indicate one and the same
officer) is to be the father of a family, with children
who are believers and orderly persons.
The injunction implies that there are cases in which
the father is a good Christian, but he has not succeeded
in making his children good Christians. Either they
have not become believers at all; or, although nominal
Christians, they do not conduct themselves as such.
They are profligate, riotous, and disobedient. This
implies that the children are old enough to think for
themselves and reject the Gospel in spite of their
parent’s conversion; or that they are old enough to
rebel against its authority. And one does not use such
strong words as “profligacy” or “riotous living” of
quite young children. The prodigal son, of whom the
same expression is used, was no mere child. Cases
of this kind, therefore, in which the father had been
converted to Christianity, but had been unable to make
the influences of Christianity tell upon his own children,
were common enough to make it worth St. Paul’s while
to give injunctions about them. And this implies a
condition of things in which Christianity was no newly
planted religion. The injunctions are intelligible
enough. Such fathers are not to be selected by Titus
as elders. A man who has so conspicuously failed in
bringing his own household into harmony with the
Gospel, is not the man to be promoted to rule the
household of the Church. Even if his failure is his
misfortune rather than his fault, the condition of his
own family cannot fail to be a grave impediment to
his usefulness as an overseer of the
congregation.It is worth while here to repeat the caution that the Apostle’s
language by no means implies that the “elder” or “bishop” must be
a married man with children. But it implies that he will generally
be such; and in appointing him, the character of his family must be
carefully considered.
Thirdly, there is the fact that heresies already exist
among the Cretan Christians. Titus, like Timothy,
has to contend with teaching of a seriously erroneous
kind. From this also we infer that the faith has long
since been introduced into the island. The misbeliefs
of the newly converted would be spoken of in far gentler
terms. They are errors of ignorance, which will
disappear as fuller instruction in the truth is received.
They are not erroneous doctrines held and propagated
in opposition to the truth. These latter require time
for their development. From all these considerations,
therefore, we conclude that St. Paul is writing to Titus
as his delegate in a country in which the Gospel is no
new thing. We are not to suppose that the Apostle
left Titus in charge of Christians who had been converted
a very short time before to the faith.
The incompleteness of the Apostle’s own work in the
island is spoken of in plain terms. Even in Churches
in which he was able to remain for two or three years,
he was obliged to leave very much unfinished; and we
need not be surprised that such was the case in Crete,
where he can hardly have stayed so long. It was this
incompleteness in all his work, a defect quite unavoidable
in work of such magnitude, that weighed so
heavily upon the Apostle’s mind. It was “that which
pressed upon him daily,—anxiety for all the Churches.”
There was so much that had never been done at all;
so much that required to be secured and established;
so much that already needed correction. And while he
was attending to the wants of one Church, another not
less important, not less dear to him, was equally in
need of his help and guidance. And here was the
comfort of having such disciples as, Timothy and Titus,
who, like true friends, could be indeed a “second self”
to him. They could be carrying on his work in places
where he himself could not be. And thus there was
no small consolation for the sorrow of parting from
them and the loss of their helpful presence. They
could be still more helpful elsewhere. “For this cause
left I thee in Crete, that thou shouldest set in order
the things that were wanting.”
There were many things that were wanting in Crete;
but one of the chief things which pressed upon the
Apostle’s mind was the lack of a properly organized
ministry, without which everything must soon fall into
confusion and decay. Hence, as soon as he has
concluded his salutation, the fulness and solemnity of
which is one of the many evidences of the genuineness
of the letter, he at once repeats to Titus the charge
which he had previously given to him by word of
mouth respecting this pressing need. A due supply
of elders or overseers is of the first importance for
“setting in order” those things which at present are
in so unsatisfactory a state.
There are several points of interest in connexion
with St. Paul’s directions to Titus respecting this need
and the best way of meeting it.
First. It is Titus himself who is to appoint these
elders throughout the cities in which congregations
exist. It is not the congregations that are to elect
the overseers, subject to the approval of the Apostle’s
delegate; still less that he is to ordain any one whom
they may elect. The full responsibility of each appointment
rests with him. Anything like popular election
of the ministers is not only not suggested, it is by
implication entirely excluded. But, secondly, in making
each appointment Titus is to consider the congregation.
He is to look carefully to the reputation which the man
of his choice bears among his fellow-Christians:—“if
any man is blameless ... having children who are not
accused of riot.... For the bishop must be blameless.”
A man in whom the congregation have no confidence,
because of the bad repute which attaches to himself
or his family, is not to be appointed. In this way the
congregation have an indirect veto; for the man to
whom they cannot give a good character may not be
taken to be set over them. Thirdly, the appointment
of Church officers is regarded as imperative: it is on
no account to be omitted. And it is not merely an
arrangement that is as a rule desirable: it is to be
universal. Titus is to “appoint elders in every city.”
He is to go through the congregations “city by city,”
and take care that each has its elder or body of elders.
Fourthly, as the name itself indicates, these elders are
to be taken from the older men among the believers.
As a rule they are to be heads of families, who have
had experience of life in its manifold relations, and
especially who have had experience of ruling a Christian
household. That will be some guarantee for their
capacity for ruling a Christian congregation. Lastly,
it must be remembered that they are not merely
delegates, either of Titus, or of the congregation. The
essence of their authority is not that they are the
representatives of the body of Christian men and
women over whom they are placed. It has a far
higher origin. They are “God’s stewards.” It is His
household that they direct and administer, and it is
from Him that their powers are derived. They are
His ministers, solemnly appointed to act in His Name.
It is on His behalf that they have to speak, as His
agents and ambassadors, labouring to advance the
interests of His kingdom. They are “stewards of His
mysteries,” bringing out of what is committed to them
“things new and old.” As God’s agents they have
a work to do among their fellow-men, through themselves,
for Him. As God’s ambassadors they have
a message to deliver, good tidings to proclaim, ever
the same, and yet ever new. As “God’s stewards”
they have treasures to guard with reverent care,
treasures to augment by diligent cultivation, treasures
to distribute with prudent liberality. There is the
flock, sorely needing, but it may be not greatly craving,
God’s spiritual gifts. The longing has to be awakened:
the longing, when awakened, has to be cherished and
directed: the gifts which will satisfy it have to be
dispensed. There is a demand; and there is a supply;
a human demand and a Divine supply. It is the
business of God’s stewards to see that the one meets
the other.
“God’s steward” is the key to all that follows
respecting the qualities to be looked for in an elder
or overseer of the Church: and, as the order of the
words in the Greek shows, the emphasis is on “God’s”
rather than on “steward.” The point accentuated is,
not that in the Church as in his own home he has
a household to administer, but that the household to
which he has to minister is God’s. That being so, he
“as God’s steward” must prove himself worthy of the
Commission which he holds: “not self-willed, not soon
angry, no brawler, no striker, not greedy of filthy lucre;
but given to hospitality, a lover of good, sober-minded,
just, holy, temperate; holding to the faithful word
which is according to the teaching, that he may be able
both to exhort in the sound doctrine, and to convict
the gainsayers.”
Such men, wherever he can find them,—and “if any
man is blameless” is not meant to hint that among
Cretans it may be impossible to find such,—Titus is
to “appoint” as elders in every city. In the A.V. the
phrase runs “ordain elders in every city.” As we
have seen already (Chap. V.), there are several passages
in which the Revisers have changed “ordain” into
“appoint.” Thus in Mark iii. 14, “He ordained
twelve” becomes “He appointed twelve.” In John
xv. 16, “I have chosen you and ordained you” becomes,
“I chose you and appointed you.” In 1 Tim. ii. 7,
“Whereunto I am ordained a preacher, and an apostle”
becomes “whereunto I was appointed a preacher and
an apostle.” In Heb. v. 1, and viii. 3, “Every high
priest is ordained” becomes “every high priest is
appointed.” In these passages three different Greek
words (ποιέω,
τίθημι,
καθίστημι)
are used in the original; but not one of them has the special ecclesiastical
meaning which we so frequently associate
with the word “ordain”; not one of them implies,
as “ordain” in such context almost of necessity implies,
a rite of ordination, a special ceremonial, such as the
laying on of hands. When in English we say, “He
ordained twelve,” “I am ordained an apostle,” “Every
high priest is ordained,” the mind almost inevitably
thinks of ordination in the common sense of the word;
and this is foisting upon the language of the New
Testament a meaning which the words there used do
not rightly bear. They all three of them refer to the
appointment to the office, and not to rite or ceremony
by which the person appointed is admitted to the office.
The Revisers, therefore, have done wisely in banishing
from all such texts a word which to English readers
cannot fail to suggest ideas which are not contained
at all in the original Greek. If we ask in what way
Titus admitted the men whom he selected to serve as
presbyters to their office, the answer is scarcely a
doubtful one. Almost certainly he would admit them,
as Timothy himself was admitted, and as he is instructed
to admit others, by the laying on of hands.
But this is neither expressed nor implied in the injunction
to “appoint elders in every city.” The appointment
is one thing, the ordination another; and even
in cases in which we are sure that the appointment
involved ordination, we are not justified in saying
“ordain” where the Greek says “appoint.” The
Greek words used in the passages quoted might equally
well be used of the appointment of a magistrate or a
steward. And as we should avoid speaking of ordaining
a magistrate or a steward, we ought to avoid using
“ordain” to translate words which would be thoroughly
in place in such a connexion. The Greek words for
“ordain” and “ordination,” in the sense of imposition
of hands in order to admit to an ecclesiastical office
(χειροθετεῖ, χειροθεσία), do not occur in the New Testament
at all.
It is worthy of note that there is not a trace here,
any more than there is in the similar passage in
1 Timothy, of the parallel between the threefold ministry
in the Old Testament and a threefold ministry in the
Christian Church, high-priest, priests, and Levites being
compared with bishop, presbyters, and deacons. This
parallel was a favourite one and it was made early.
The fact therefore that we do not find it in any of
these Epistles, nor even any material out of which it
could be constructed, confirms us in the belief that
these letters belong to the first century and not to the
second.
In giving this injunction to Titus, St. Paul assumes
that his disciple and delegate is as free as he himself
is from all feelings of jealousy, or envy. “Art thou
jealous for my sake? would God that all the Lord’s
people were prophets,” is the spirit in which these
instructions are given, and no doubt were accepted.
There is no grasping after power in the great Apostle
of the Gentiles; no desire to keep everything in his
own hands, that he might have the credit of all that
was done. So long as Christ is rightly preached, so
long as the Lord’s work is faithfully done, he cares
not who wins the glory. He is more than willing that
Timothy and Titus should share in his work and its
reward; and he without hesitation applies to them to
admit others in like manner to share with them in
their work and its reward. This generous willingness
to admit others to co-operate is not always found,
especially in men of strong character and great energy
and decision. They will admit subordinates as a
necessary evil to work out details, because they cannot
themselves afford time for all these. But they
object to anything like colleagues. Whatever of any
serious importance is done must be in their own hands
and must be recognized as their work. There is
nothing of this spirit in St. Paul. He could rejoice
when some “preached Christ even of envy and strife,”
“not sincerely, thinking to raise up affliction for him
in his bonds.” He rejoiced, not because of their evil
temper, but because that at any rate Christ was preached.
How much more, therefore, did he rejoice when Christ
was preached “of good will” by disciples devoted to
himself and his Master. They all had the same end
in view; not their own glory, but the glory of God.
And this is the end which all Christian ministers
have to keep in view, and which they too often exchange
for ends that are far lower, and far removed (it may
be) from the cause with which we choose to identify
them. And as time goes on, and we look less and
less with a single eye at the will of God, and have
less and less of the single purpose of seeking His
glory, our aims become narrower and our ends more
selfish. At first it is the triumph of a system, then
it is the advancement of a party. Then it becomes the
propagation of our own views, and the extension of
our own influence. Until at last we find ourselves
working, no longer for God’s glory, but simply for our
own. While professing to work in His Name and for
His honour, we have steadily substituted our own wills
for His.
But it is only by forgetting ourselves that we find
ourselves; only by losing our life that we find it.
“God’s steward” must be ready to sink every personal
interest in the interests of the great Employer.
He has nothing of his own. He deals with his
Master’s goods, and must deal with them in his Master’s
way. He who labours in this spirit will one day be
rewarded by the Divine voice of welcome: “Well done,
good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over
a few things; I will set thee over many things; enter
thou into the joy of thy Lord.”
CHAPTER XX.
CHRISTIANITY AND UNCHRISTIAN LITERATURE.
“One of themselves, a prophet of their own, said, Cretans are
always liars, evil beasts, idle gluttons. This testimony is true. For
which cause reprove them sharply, that they may be sound in the
faith.”—Titus i. 12, 13.
The hexameter verse which St. Paul here cites
from the Cretan poet Epimenides is one of three
quotations from profane literature which are made by
St. Paul. Of the other two, one occurs in 1 Cor. xv.
33, “Evil communications corrupt good manners”;
and the other in the Apostle’s speech on the Areopagus
at Athens, as recorded in the Acts (xvii. 28): “For
we are also his offspring.” They cannot be relied
upon as sufficient to prove that St. Paul was well read
in classical literature, any more than the quoting of a
hackneyed line from Shakespeare, from Byron, and
from Tennyson, would prove that an English writer
was well acquainted with English literature. It may
have been the case that St. Paul knew a great deal of
Greek classical literature, but these three quotations,
from Epimenides, from some Greek tragedian, and from
Cleanthes or Aratus, do not at all prove the point. In
all three cases the source of the quotation is not certain.
In the one before us the Apostle no doubt tells us that
he is quoting a Cretan “prophet,” and therefore quotes
the line as coming from Epimenides. But a man may
know that “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me
your ears” is Shakespeare, without having read a
single play. And we are quite uncertain whether St.
Paul had even seen the poem of Epimenides on Oracles
in which the line which he here quotes occurs. The
iambic which he quotes in the letter to the Corinthians,
although originally in some Greek play (perhaps of Euripides
or Menander), had passed into a proverb, and
proves even less than the line from Epimenides that
St. Paul knew the work in which it occurred. The
half-line which is given in his speech at Athens, stating
the Divine parentage of mankind, may have come from
a variety of sources: but it is not improbable that the
Apostle had read it in the Phænomena of Aratus, in
which it occurs in the form in which it is reproduced
in the Acts. This astronomical poem was popular in
St. Paul’s day, and he was the more likely to have
come across it, as Aratus is said to have been a native
of Tarsus, or at any rate of Cilicia. But even when
we have admitted that the Apostle had read the Phænomena
of Aratus or Cleanthes’ Hymn to Zeus, we have
not made much way towards proving that he was well
read in Greek literature. Indeed the contrary has
been argued from the fact that, according to the reading
of the best authorities, the iambic line in the
Corinthians is quoted in such a way as to spoil the
scanning; which would seem to show that St. Paul
was not familiar with the iambic
metre.χρηστὰ ὁμιλίαι instead of
χρησθ’ ὁμιλίαι.
If that was
the case, he can scarcely have read even a single Greek
play.
But the question is not one of great importance,
although doubtless of some interest. We do not need
this evidence to prove that the Apostle was a person,
not only of great energy and ability, but of culture.
There are passages in his writings, such as chapters
xiii. and xv. in 1 Corinthians, which are equal for
beauty and eloquence to anything in literature. Even
among inspired writers few have known better than St.
Paul how to clothe lofty thoughts in noble language.
And of his general acquaintance with the moral philosophy
of his age, especially of the Stoic school, which
was very influential in the neighbourhood of Tarsus,
there can be no doubt. Just as St. John laid the
thoughts and language of Alexandrian philosophy under
contribution, and gave them fuller force and meaning
to express the dogmatic truths of the Gospel, so St.
Paul laid the thoughts and language of Stoicism under
contribution, and transfigured them to express the
moral teaching of the Gospel. Cleanthes or Aratus,
from one or both of whom one of the three quotations
comes (and St. Paul seems to know both sources, for
he says “as certain even of your own poets have said”),
were both of them Stoics: and the speech in which the
quotation occurs, short as it is in the Acts, abounds in
parallels to the teaching of St. Paul’s Stoic contemporary
Seneca. If St. Paul tells us that “the God that
made the world and all things therein ... dwelleth
not in temples made with hands,” Seneca teaches that
“temples must not be built to God of stones piled on
high: He must be consecrated in the heart of man.”
While St. Paul reminds us that God “is not far from
each one of us,” Seneca says “God is near thee: He
is with thee; He is within.” Again, St. Paul warns
his hearers that “we ought not to think that the God-head
is like unto gold, or silver, or stone, graven by
art and device of man”; and Seneca declares “Thou
shalt not form Him of silver and gold: a true likeness
of God cannot be moulded of this
material.”Lightfoot on “Seneca and St. Paul,” in Philippians, pp. 288, 300.
But the quotations are of other interest than their
bearing upon the question as to the Greek elements in
the education and teaching of St. Paul. They have a
bearing also on the question of Christian use of profane
authors, and on the duty of self-culture in general.
The leading teachers of the early Church differed
widely in their estimate of the value of heathen literature,
and especially of heathen philosophy. On the
whole, with some considerable exceptions, the Greek
Fathers valued it highly, as containing precious
elements of truth, which were partly the result of
direct inspiration, partly echoes of the Old Testament.
The Latin Fathers, on the other hand, for the most
part treated all pagan teaching with suspicion and
contempt. It was in no sense useful. It was utterly
false, and simply stood in the way of the truth. It
was rubbish, which must be swept on one side in
order to make room for the Gospel. Tertullian thinks
that heathen philosophers are “blockheads when they
knock at the doors of truth,” and that “they have contributed
nothing whatever that a Christian can accept.”
Arnobius and Lactantius write in a similar strain of
contemptuous disapproval. Tertullian thinks it out of
the question that a right-minded Christian should teach
in pagan schools. But even he shrinks from telling
Christian parents that they must allow their children
to remain uneducated rather than send them to such
schools. The policy of permitting Christian children
to attend heathen schools, while forbidding Christian
adults from teaching in them, appears singularly unreasonable.
Every Christian teacher in a school
rendered that school less objectionable for Christian
children. But Tertullian urges that one who teaches
pagan literature seems to give his sanction to it: one
who merely learns it does nothing of the kind. The
young must be educated: adults need not become
school-masters. One can plead necessity in the one
case; not in the other (De Idol., x). But the necessity
of sending a child to a pagan school, because otherwise
it could not be properly educated, did not settle the
question whether it was prudent, or even right, for a
Christian in afterlife to study pagan literature; and it
required the thought and experience of several centuries
to arrive at anything like a consensus of opinion and
practice on the subject. But during the first four or
five centuries the more liberal view, even in the West,
on the whole prevailed. From Irenæus, Tatian, and
Hermias, among Greek writers, and from various Latin
Fathers, disapproving opinions proceeded. But the
influence of Clement of Alexandria and Origen in the
East, and of Augustine and Jerome in the West, was
too strong for such opinions. Clement puts it on the
broad ground that all wisdom is a Divine gift; and
maintains that the philosophy of the Greeks, limited
and particular as it is, contains the rudiments of that
really perfect knowledge, which is beyond this world.”
Origen, in rebutting the reproach of Celsus, that the
Gospel repelled the educated and gave a welcome only
to the ignorant, quotes the Epistle to Titus, pointing
out that “Paul, in describing what kind of man the
bishop ought to be, lays down as a qualification that he
must be a teacher, saying that he ought to be able to
convince the gainsayers, that by the wisdom which is
in him he may stop the mouths of foolish talkers and
deceivers.” The Gospel gives a welcome to the
learned and unlearned alike: to the learned, that they
may become teachers; to the unlearned, not because it
prefers such, but because it wishes to instruct them.
And he points out that in enumerating the gifts of the
Spirit St. Paul places wisdom and knowledge before
faith, gifts of healing, and miracles (1 Cor. xii. 8–10).
But Origen does not point out that St. Paul himself
makes use of heathen literature; although immediately
before dealing with the accusation of Celsus, that
Christians hate culture and promote ignorance, he
quotes from Callimachus half of the saying of Epimenides,
“Cretans are alway liars” (Con. Cels., III. xliii).
What Origen’s own practice was we learn from the
Panegyric of his enthusiastic pupil, Gregory Thaumaturgus
(xiii.).
With the exception of atheistic philosophy, which
was not worth the risk, Origen encouraged his scholars
to study everything; and he gave them a regular
course of dialectics, physics, and moral philosophy, as
a preparation for theology. Augustine, who ascribes
his first conversion from a vicious life to the Hortensius
of Cicero (Conf., III. iv. I), was not likely to take an
extreme line in condemning classical literature, from
which he himself frequently quotes. Of Cicero’s
Hortensius he says, “This book in truth changed my
affections, and turned my prayers to Thyself, O Lord,
and made me have other hopes and desires.” He
quotes, among other classical authors, not only Virgil,
Livy, Lucan, Sallust, Horace, Pliny and Quintillian,
but Terence, Persius, and Juvenal, and of the last
from those Satires which are sometimes omitted by
editors on account of their grossness. In his treatise
On Christian Doctrine (II. xl.), he contends that we
must not shrink from making use of all that is good
and true in heathen writings and institutions. We
must “spoil the Egyptians.” The writings of his
instructor Ambrose show that he also was well
acquainted with the best Latin classics. In Jerome we
have what may be called an essay on the subject.
Ruffinus had suggested to Magnus, a Roman rhetorician,
that he should ask Jerome why he filled his writings
with so many allusions and quotations taken from
pagan literature, and Jerome in reply, after quoting the
opening verses of the Book of Proverbs, refers him to
the example of St. Paul in the Epistles to Titus and
the Corinthians, and in the speech in the Acts. Then
he points to Cyprian, Origen, Eusebius, and Apollinaris:
“read them, and you will find that in comparison
with them we have little skill (in quotation).”
Besides these he appeals to the examples, among Greek
writers, of Quadratus, Justin Martyr, Dionysius,
Clement of Alexandria, Basil, Gregory Nazianzen,
etc.; and among Latins, Tertullian, Minucius Felix,
Arnobius, Hilary, and Juvencus. And he points out
that quotations from profane authors occur in nearly all
the works of these writers, and not merely in those
which are addressed to heathen. But while Jerome
defends the study of classical authors as a necessary
part of education, he severely condemns those clergy
who amused themselves with such writers as Plautus
(of whom he himself had been very fond), Terence, and
Catullus, when they ought to have been studying the
Scriptures. Later in life his views appear to have
become more rigid; and we find him rejoicing that the
works of Plato and Aristotle are becoming neglected.
It was the short reign of Julian, commonly called
“the Apostate” (A.D. 361–363), which had brought
the question very much to the front. His policy and
legislation probably influenced Augustine and Jerome
in taking a more liberal line in the matter, in spite of
Latin dislike of Greek philosophy and their own ascetic
tendencies. Julian, jealous of the growing influence of
Christian teachers, tried to prevent them from lecturing
on classical authors. From this he hoped to gain two
advantages. (1) Secular education would to a large
extent be taken out of Christian hands. (2) The
Christian teachers themselves would become less well
educated, and less able to contend with heathen
controversialists. He sarcastically pointed out the
inconvenience of a teacher expounding Homer and
denouncing Homer’s gods: Christians had better
confine themselves to “expounding Matthew and Luke
in the Churches of the Galileans,” and leave the
interpretation of the masterpieces of antiquity to others.
And he seems not to have contented himself with
cynical advice, but to have passed a law that no
Christian was to teach in the public schools. This law
was at once cancelled by his successor Valentinian;
but it provoked a strong feeling of resentment, and
stirred up Christians to recognize and hold fast the
advantages of a classical education.
But while the influence of the first three of the four
great Latin Fathers was in favour of a wise use of the
products of pagan genius, the influence of the last of
the four was disastrously in the opposite direction.
In the period between Jerome and Gregory the
Great two facts had had a calamitous effect upon the
cause of liberal education. (1) The inroads of the
barbarians almost destroyed the imperial schools in
Gaul and Italy. (2) The miserable controversies
about Origen produced an uneasy suspicion that secular
study was prejudical to orthodoxy. It is perhaps to
this latter influence that we may attribute two ecclesiastical
canons of unknown date and origin. In the
Apostolical Constitutions (I. vi.) we read, “Abstain from
all heathen books. For what hast thou to do with such
foreign discourses, or laws, or false prophets, which
subvert the faith of the unstable? For what defect
dost thou find in the law of God, that thou shouldest
have recourse to those heathenish fables?” etc., etc.
Again in a collection of canons, which is sometimes
assigned to a synod at Carthage A.D. 398, the 16th
canon in the collection runs thus: “A bishop shall
read no heathen books, and heretical books only when
necessary.” The Carthaginian synod of 398 is a
fiction, and some of the canons in the collection deal
with controversies of a much later date: but we need not
doubt that all the canons were enacted in some Church
or other in the course of the first six centuries. The
spirit of this one is very much in harmony with the
known tendencies of the sixth century; and we find
Gregory the Great (A.D. 544–604) making precisely the
same regulation. He forbad bishops to study heathen
literature, and in one of his letters (Epp., ix. 48) he
rebukes Desiderius, Bishop of Vienne, for giving his
clergy instruction in grammar, which involved the
reading of the heathen poets. “The praises of Christ
do not admit of being joined in the same mouth with
the praises of Jupiter; and it is a grave and execrable
thing for bishops to sing what even for a religious layman
is unbecoming.” The story that he purposely
burnt the Palatine library is not traced earlier than the
twelfth century, and is probably untrue; but it indicates
the traditional belief respecting his attitude towards
classical literature. And it is certainly true that he was
twice in Constantinople, and on the second occasion
remained there three years (A.D. 579–582), and yet
never learnt Greek. In his time, as we learn both
from himself and his contemporary, Gregory of Tours,
the belief was very prevalent that the end of the world
was at hand; and it was argued that mankind had
more serious things to attend to than the study of
pagan literature—or indeed any literature that was not
connected with the Scriptures or the Church. Henceforward,
in the words of Gregory of Tours, “the study
of literature perished”: and, although there were some
bright spots at Jarrow and elsewhere, yet on the
whole the chief services which Christianity rendered to
classical learning during the next few centuries, were
the preservation of classical authors in the libraries of
monasteries and the preservation of the classical languages
in the liturgies of the Church.
The question will perhaps never cease to be argued,
although it is hardly probable that so extreme a view
as that of Gregory the Great will ever again become
prevalent. Let us take a statement of the question
from the utterances of one who will not be suspected
of want of capacity or of experience in the matter, or of
want of sympathy with stern and serious views respecting
education and life.
“Some one will say to me perhaps,” wrote John
Henry Newman in 1859, “our youth shall not be
corrupted. We will dispense with all general or
national literature whatever, if it be so exceptional; we
will have a Christian Literature of our own, as pure, as
true as the Jewish.” “You cannot have it.... From
the nature of the case, if Literature is to be made a
study of human nature, you cannot have a Christian
Literature. It is a contradiction in terms to attempt a
sinless Literature of sinful man. You may gather
together something very great and high, something
higher than any literature ever was; and when you
have done so, you will find that it is not Literature at
all. You will simply have left the delineation of man,
as such, and have substituted for it, as far as you
have had anything to substitute, that of man, as he is
or might be, under certain special advantages. Give
up the study of man, as such, if so it must be; but say
you do so. Do not say you are studying him, his
history, his mind and his heart, when you are studying
something else. Man is a being of genius, passion,
intellect, conscience, power. He exercises his great
gifts in various ways, in great deeds, in great thoughts,
in heroic acts, in hateful crimes.... Literature
records them all to the life....
“We should be shrinking from a plain duty, did we
leave out Literature from Education. For why do we
educate except to prepare for the world? Why do we
cultivate the intellect of the many beyond the first
elements of knowledge, except ... to fit men of the
world for the world? We cannot possibly keep them
from plunging into the world, with all its ways and
principles and maxims, when their time comes; but we
can prepare them against what is inevitable; and it is
not the way to learn to swim in troubled waters, never
to have gone into them. Proscribe (I do not say
particular authors, particular works, particular passages)
but Secular Literature as such: cut out from your class
books all broad manifestations of the natural man;
and those manifestations are waiting, for your pupil’s
benefit, at the very doors of your lecture room in living
and breathing substance. They will meet him there in
all the charm of novelty, and all the fascination of
genius or of amiableness. To-day a pupil, to-morrow
a member of the great world: to-day confined to the
Lives of the Saints, to-morrow thrown upon Babel;—thrown
on Babel, without the honest indulgence of wit
and humour and imagination ever permitted to him,
without any fastidiousness of taste wrought into him,
without any rule given him for discriminating ‘the
precious from the vile,’ beauty from sin, the truth from
the sophistry of nature, what is innocent from what is
poison.”J. H. Newman, The Scope and Nature of University Education, pp.
336–342. The whole discourse, “The Church and Liberal Education,”
is an eloquent and noble vindication of the claims of literature.
Many Christians are apt to forget that all truth is of
God; and that every one who in an earnest spirit
endeavours to ascertain and to teach what is true in any
department of human knowledge, is doing God’s work.
The Spirit, we are promised by Christ Himself, “shall
lead you into all the Truth,” and “the Truth shall make
you free.” Our business is to see that nothing claims
the name of truth unlawfully. It is not our business to
prohibit anything that can make good its claim to be
accounted true.
Those who enjoy large opportunities of study, and
especially those who have the responsibility not only of
learning but of teaching, must beware of setting their
own narrow limits to the domain of what is useful and
true. It has a far wider range than the wants which
we feel in ourselves or which we can trace in others.
Even the whole experience of mankind would not
suffice to give the measure of it. We dishonour rather
than reverence the Bible, when we attempt to confine
ourselves and others to the study of it. Much of its
secret and inexhaustible store of treasure will remain
undiscovered by us, until our hearts are warmed, our
intellects quickened, and our experience enlarged, by
the masterpieces of human genius. “To the pure all
things are pure.” In the first century, in which the
perils of heathenism to Christianity were tenfold what
they are at present, St. Paul in plain terms told his
converts that if they liked to accept the invitations of
their heathen friends and acquaintances, they need not
scruple to do so (1 Cor. x. 27); and by his own
example, he shows them that they may enjoy and use
what is beautiful and true in heathen literature. Let
us beware of narrowing the liberty wisely allowed by
him. Each one of us can readily find out what is
dangerous for himself. There is plenty that is not
dangerous: let him freely enjoy that. But the limits
that are wise for ourselves are not to bind others.
Their liberty is not to be circumscribed by our conscience.
“The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness
thereof.”
CHAPTER XXI.
THE MEANING AND VALUE OF SOBERMINDEDNESS.—THE
USE AND ABUSE OF RELIGIOUS EMOTION.
“But speak thou the things which befit the sound doctrine: that
aged men be temperate, grave, soberminded, sound in faith, in love,
in patience, that aged women likewise be reverent in demeanour,
not slanderers nor enslaved to much wine, teachers of that which
is good; that they may train the young women to love their
husbands, to love their children, to be soberminded, chaste, workers
at home, kind, being in subjection to their own husbands, that
the word of God be not blasphemed: the younger men likewise
exhort to be soberminded.”—Titus ii. 1–6.
In marked contrast to the seducing teachers who
are described in the concluding verses of the first
chapter, Titus is charged to teach that which is right.
“But speak thou the things which befit the sound
doctrine.” What they taught was to the last degree
unwholesome, full of senseless frivolities and baseless
distinctions respecting meats and drinks, times and
seasons. Such things were fatal alike to sound and
robust faith and to all moral earnestness. Belief
was frittered away in a credulous attention to “Jewish
fables,” and character was depraved by a weak
punctiliousness about fanciful details. As in the
Pharisees, whom Jesus Christ denounced, scrupulosity
about trifles led to neglect of “the weightier matters of
the law.” But in these “vain talkers and deceivers,”
whom Titus had to oppose, the trifles by which they
distracted their hearers from matters of the highest importance
were not even the minor duties enjoined by
the Law or the Gospel: they were mere “commandments
of men.” In opposition to calamitous teaching
of this kind, Titus is to insist upon what is healthy
and sound.
All classes are to be attended to, and the exhortations
specially needed are to be given to each: to the older
men and older women, the younger women and the
younger men, to whom Titus is to show himself an
example: and finally to slaves, for salvation is offered
to all men, and is for no privileged class.
It will be observed that the sound teaching which
Titus is charged to give to the different sections of
his flock relates almost exclusively to conduct. There
is scarcely a hint in the whole of this chapter that
can be supposed to have reference to errors of doctrine.
In quite a general way the old men are to be exhorted
to be “sound in faith” as well as in love and patience:
but otherwise all the instruction to be given to old
and young, male and female, bond and free, relates
to conduct in thought, word, and
deed.This makes one again inclined to regret that the Revisers
here and elsewhere have left “doctrine” as the translation of
διδασκαλία, while they have in most cases substituted “teaching”
for “doctrine” as the translation of διδαχή. It would hardly be
possible to confine either English word to either Greek word
as its invariable rendering: but where both English words are
admissible, it seems better to keep “teaching” (which is close to
“teacher”) for διδασκαλία (which is close to
διδάσκαλος) and reserve
“doctrine” for διδαχή (see p. 47).
Nor is there any hint that the “vain talkers and
deceivers” contradicted (otherwise than by an unholy
life) the moral precepts which the Apostle here tells
his delegate to communicate abundantly to his flock.
We are not to suppose that these mischievous teachers
taught people that there was no harm in intemperance,
or slander, or unchastity, or theft. The mischief
which they did consisted in their telling people to
devote their attention to things that were morally
unprofitable, while no care was taken to secure
attention to those things, the observance of which
was vital. On the contrary, the emphasis laid upon
silly superstitions led people to suppose that, when
these had been attended to, all duties had been fulfilled;
and a careless, godless life was the result. Thus
whole households were subverted by men who made
religion a trade. This disastrous state of things is
to be remedied by pointing out and insisting upon
the observances which are of real importance for
the spiritual life. The fatal lowering of moral tone,
which the morbid and fanciful teaching of these
seducers produced, is to be counteracted by the bracing
effects of wholesome moral teaching.
No one can read through the indications which the
Apostle gives of what he means by “wholesome teaching,”
without perceiving the key-note which rings
through it all;—sobriety or sobermindedness. The
aged men are to be taught to be “temperate, grave,
soberminded.” The aged women to be “reverent in
demeanour,” “that they may school the young women
... to be soberminded.” The younger men are to be
“exhorted to be soberminded.” And in giving the reason
for all this he points out God’s purpose in His revelation
to mankind; “to the intent that, denying ungodliness
and worldly lusts, we should live soberly.”
Now, what is the precise meaning of this sobriety or
sobermindedness, on which St. Paul insists so strongly
as a duty to be impressed upon men and women both
old and young?
The words used in the original Greek (σώφρων,
σωφρονίζειν,
σωφρονεῖν)
signify, according to their
derivation,From σῶς, “safe and sound,” and
φρήν, “mind.” The associations
of the word are seen in Aristotle’s erroneous derivation (Eth. N., VI. v. 5);
Ἔνθεν
καὶ τὴν σωφροσύνην τούτῳ προσαγορεύομεν τῷ ὀνόματι, ὡς σώζουσαν τὴν φρόνησιν.
“of sound mind,” “to make of sound mind,”
and “to be of sound mind;” and the quality which
they indicate is that mens sana or healthiness of
mental constitution which shows itself in discreet and
prudent conduct, and especially in self-control. This
latter meaning is specially predominant in Attic writers.
Thus Plato defines it as “a kind of order and a
controlling of certain pleasures and desires, as is
shown by the saying that a man is ‘master of himself’
... an expression which seems to mean that in the
man’s soul there are two elements, a better and a
worse, and when the better controls the worse, then he
is said to be master of himself” (Rep., IV. p. 431).
Similarly, Aristotle tells us that the lowest bodily
pleasures are the sphere in which this virtue of self-control
is specially displayed; that is, those bodily
pleasures which the other animals share with man, and
which are consequently shown to be slavish and bestial,
viz., the pleasures of touch and taste (Eth. N., III. x.
4, 9; Rhet., I. ix. 9). And throughout the best Attic
writers the vices to which self-control is opposed are
those which imply immoderate indulgence in sensual
pleasures. It is a virtue which has a very prominent
place in heathen moral philosophy. It is one of the
most obvious of virtues. It is manifest that in order to
be a virtuous man at all one must at least have control
over one’s lowest appetites. And to a heathen it is
one of the most impressive of virtues. All of us have
experience of the difficulty of regulating our passions;
and to those who know nothing of Christian teaching
or of the grace of God the difficulty is increased tenfold.
Hence to the savage the ascetic seems to be almost
superhuman; and even in the cultivated pagan abstinence
from bodily pleasure and steadfast resistance of
sensual temptation excite wonder and admiration. The
beautiful panegyric of Socrates put into the mouth of
Alcibiades in the Symposium of Plato illustrates this
feeling: and Euripides styles such virtue as the
“noblest gift of the gods.”
But when this virtue becomes illuminated by the
Gospel its meaning is intensified. The “sobermindedness”
or “sobriety” of the New Testament is something
more than the “self-control” or “temperance”
of Plato and Aristotle. Its sphere is not confined to
the lowest sensual enjoyments. Self-mastery with
regard to such things is still included; but other things
are included also. It is that power over ourselves
which keeps under control, not only bodily impulses,
but spiritual impulses also. There is a spiritual frenzy
analogous to physical madness, and there are spiritual
self-indulgences analogous to bodily intemperance. For
these things also self-mastery is needed.
St. Paul in writing to the Corinthians sums up his
own life under the two conditions of being out of his
mind and in his right mind. His opponents at Corinth,
like Festus (Acts xxvi. 24), accused him of being mad.
He is quite ready to admit that at times he has been
in a condition which, if they like, they may call madness.
But that is no affair of theirs. Of his sanity
and sobriety at other times there can be no question;
and his conduct during these times of sobriety is of
importance to them. “For whether we went out of
our mind” (ἐξέστημεν), “it was for God, or are in our
right mind” (σωφρονοῦμεν, “are of sober mind,” R.V.),
“it is for you” (2 Cor. v. 13). The Apostle “went out
of his mind,” as his enemies chose to say, at his conversion
on the road to Damascus, when a special
revelation of Jesus Christ was granted to him: and to
this phase of his existence belonged his visions (Acts
xvi. 9; xxvii. 23), ecstasies and revelations (2 Cor. xii.
1–7), and his “speaking with tongues” (1 Cor. xiv. 18).
And he was “in his right mind” in all the great tact,
and sagacity, and self-denial, which he exhibited for
the well-being of his converts.
It was absolutely necessary that the latter condition
of mind should be the predominant one, and should
control the other; that the ecstasy should be exceptional
and the sobermindedness habitual, and that the
sobermindedness should not be turned into self-exaltation
by the remembrance of the ecstasy. There was
so much danger of this evil in St. Paul’s case, owing
to “the exceeding greatness of the revelations” granted
to him, that the special discipline of the “stake for the
flesh” was given to him to counteract the temptation;
for it was in the flesh, that is the sinful principle of
his nature, that the tendency to pride himself on his
extraordinary spiritual experiences was found.
St. Paul’s case was, no doubt, highly exceptional;
but in degree, rather than in kind. Very many of his
converts had similar, although less sublime, and perhaps
less frequent, experiences. Spiritual gifts of a
supernatural kind had been bestowed in great abundance
upon many of the members of the Church of
Corinth (1 Cor. xii. 7–10), and were the occasion
of some of the grievous disorders which were found
there, because they were not always accompanied by
sobriety, but were allowed to become incitements to
licence and spiritual pride. Few things show more
plainly the necessity for self-control and sobermindedness,
when men are under the influence of strong
religious emotion, than the state of things existing
among the Corinthian converts, as indicated in St.
Paul’s two letters to them. They had been guilty of
two errors. First, they had formed an exaggerated
estimate of some of the gifts bestowed upon them,
especially of the mysterious power of speaking with
tongues. And, secondly, they had supposed that
persons so highly gifted as themselves were above,
not only ordinary precautions, but ordinary principles.
Instead of seeing that such special privileges required
them to be specially on their guard, they considered
that they stood in no need of vigilance, and might
safely disregard custom, and common decency, and
even principles of morality. Previous to their conversion
they had been idolaters, and therefore had had no
experience of spiritual gifts and manifestations. Consequently,
when the experience came, they were thrown
off their balance, and knew neither how to estimate
these gifts, nor how to prevent “what should have
been to their wealth, becoming to them an occasion of
falling.”
It might be thought that the conditions of the
Christian life of St. Paul and of his converts were too
unlike our own to yield any clear lesson in this respect.
We have not been converted to Christianity from either
Judaism or paganism; and we have received no special
revelations or extraordinary spiritual gifts. But this
is not so. Our religious life, like theirs, has its two
different phases; its times of excitement, and its times
of freedom from excitement. We no longer work
miracles, or speak with tongues; but we have our
exceptional moments of impassioned feelings, and high-strung
aspirations, and sublime thoughts; and we are
just as liable as the Corinthians were to plume ourselves
upon them, to rest in them, and to think that,
because we have them, all must necessarily be well
with us. We cannot too often remind ourselves that
such things are not religion, and are not even the
material out of which religion is made. They are
the scaffolding and appliances, rather than the formed
edifice or the unformed stones and timber. They supply
helps and motive power. They are intended to carry
us over difficulties and drudgery; and hence are more
common in the earlier stages of a Christian’s career
than in the time of maturity, and at crises when the
career has been interrupted, than when it is progressing
with steadfast regularity. Conversion to Christianity
in the case of a pagan, and the realization of what
Christianity really means in the case of a nominal
Christian, involve pain and depression: and the
attempt to turn again and repent after grievous sin
involves pain and depression. Strong religious
emotion helps us to get the better of these, and may,
if we use it aright, give us an impetus in the right
direction. But, from the very nature of things, it
cannot continue, and it is not desirable that it should.
It will soon run its course, and we shall be left to go
on our way with our ordinary resources. And our
duty then is twofold;—first, not to repine at its withdrawal;
“the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken
away, blessed be the Name of the Lord”: and, secondly,
to take care that it does not evaporate in empty self-complacency,
but is translated into action. Impassioned
feeling, that leads on to conduct, strengthens character;
impassioned feeling, that ends with itself, weakens it.
If religious excitement is not to do us more harm than
good, by leaving us more insensible to spiritual
influences than we were before, it must be accompanied
by the sobriety which refuses to be exalted by such
an experience, and which, in making use of it, controls
it. And, moreover, these warm feelings and enthusiastic
aspirations after what is good must lead on
to calm and steadfast performance of what is good.
One act of real self-denial, one genuine sacrifice of
pleasure to duty, is worth hours of religious emotion
and thousands of pious thoughts.
But sobermindedness will not only keep us from
being pleased with ourselves for our impassioned feelings
about spiritual things, and help us to turn them to
good account; it will also preserve us from what is even
worse than allowing them to pass away without result,
viz., talking about them. To feel warmly and to do
nothing is to waste motive power: it leads to hardening
of the heart against good influences in the future. To
feel warmly and talk about it is to abuse motive power:
it leads to puffing up of the heart in spiritual pride
and to blinding the inward eye with self-complacency.
And this is the fatal mistake which is made by some
religious teachers at the present day. Strong feelings
are excited in those whom they wish to lead from a life
of sin to a life of holiness. Sorrow for the past and a
desire for better things are aroused, and the sinner is
thrown into a condition of violent distress and expectation.
And then, instead of being gently led on to work
out his salvation in fear and trembling, the penitent is
encouraged to seek excitement again and again, and to
attempt to produce it in others, by constant rehearsing
of his own religious experiences. What should have
been a secret between himself and his Saviour, or at
most shared only with some wise adviser, is thrown
out publicly to the whole world, to the degradation
both of what is told and of the character of him who
tells it.
The error of mistaking religious feeling for holiness,
and good thoughts for good conduct, is a very common
one; and it is confined to neither sex, and to no period
of life. Men as well as women, and the old as well as
the young, need to be on their guard against it. And
therefore the Apostle urges Titus to exhort all alike to
be soberminded. There are times when to be agitated
about religion, and have warm feelings either of sorrow
or joy, is natural and right. When one is first roused
to desire a life of holiness; when one is conscience-stricken
at having fallen into some grievous sin; when
one is bowed down under the weight of some great
private or public calamity, or elated by the vivid appreciation
of some great private or public blessing. At all
such seasons it is reasonable and proper that we should
experience strong religious emotion. Not to do so
would be a sign of insensibility and deadness of heart.
But do not let us suppose that the presence of such
feelings mark us out as specially religious or spiritually
gifted people. They do nothing of the kind. They
merely prove that we are not utterly dead to spiritual
influences. Whether we are the better or the worse
for such feelings, depends upon the use that we make
of them. And do not let us expect that these emotions
will be permanent, which will certainly not be the case,
or that they will frequently return, which will probably
not be the case. Above all, let us not be discouraged
if they become more and more rare, as time goes on.
They ought to become more rare; for they are sure
to become less frequent as we advance in holiness.
In the steady growth and natural development of the
spiritual life there is not much need of them or room
for them. They have done their work when they have
carried us over the breakers, which troubled our early
efforts, into the less excited waters of consistent
obedience. And to be able to progress without them
is a surer token of God’s grace than to have them. To
continue steadfast in our obedience, without the luxury
of warm feelings and impassioned devotion, is more
pleasing in His sight than all the intense longings to
be freed from sin, and all the passionate supplications
for increased holiness that we have ever felt and offered.
The test of fellowship with God is not warmth of
devotion but holiness of life. “Hereby know we that
we know Him, if we keep His commandments.”
CHAPTER XXII.
THE MORAL CONDITION OF SLAVES.—THEIR ADORNMENT
OF THE DOCTRINE OF GOD.
“Exhort servants to be in subjection to their own masters, and to
be well-pleasing to them in all things; not gainsaying; not purloining,
but showing all good fidelity; that they may adorn the
doctrine of God our Saviour in all things.”—Titus ii. 9, 10.
Something has already been said in a previous
discourse (on 1 Tim. vi. 1, 2) respecting the institution
of slavery in the Roman Empire in the first
age of Christianity. It was not only unchristian but
inhuman; and it was so widespread that the slaves
outnumbered the freemen. Nevertheless the Apostles
and their successors taught neither to the slaves that
they ought to resist a dominion which was immoral
both in effect and in origin, nor to the masters that as
Christians they were bound to set their servants
free.The stories told in Bollandus of Roman converts under Trajan
and Diocletian, who at their baptism manumitted their slaves, are
not very credible. Such things, if they happened at all, were very
exceptional.
Christianity did indeed labour for the abolition of
slavery, but by quite other methods. It taught masters
and slaves alike that all men have a common Divine
parentage and a common Divine redemption, and consequently
are equally bound to show brotherly love and
equally endowed with spiritual freedom. It showed
that the slave and his master are alike children of
God, and as such free; and alike servants of Jesus
Christ, and as such bondmen,—bondmen in that
service which is the only true freedom. And thus very
slowly, but surely, Christianity disintegrated and dispersed
those unwholesome conditions and false ideas,
which made slavery to be everywhere possible, and to
seem to most men to be necessary. And wherever
these conditions and ideas were swept away, slavery
gradually died out or was formally
abolished.Pagan inscriptions carefully distinguish between freemen and
slaves; Christian inscriptions seldom or never. There seems to be
no well-ascertained instance in the Roman catacombs. Dict. of
Christ Ant., Vol. ii. p. 1904.
As the number of slaves in the first century was so
enormous, it was only in accordance with human probability
that many of the first converts to Christianity
belonged to this class; all the more so, as Christianity,
like most great movements, began with the lower
orders and thence spread upwards. Among the better
class of slaves, that is those who were not so degraded
as to be insensible of their own degradation, the Gospel
spread freely. It offered them just what they needed,
and the lack of which had turned their life into one
great despair. It gave them something to hope for and
something to live for. Their condition in the world
was both socially and morally deplorable. Socially
they had no rights beyond what their lord chose to
allow them. They were ranked with the brutes, and
were in a worse condition than any brutes, for they
were capable of wrongs and sufferings of which the
brutes are incapable or insensible. And St. Chrysostom
in commenting on this passage points out how
inevitable it was that the moral character of slaves
should as a rule be bad. They have no motive for
trying to be good, and very little opportunity of learning
what is right. Every one, slaves included, admits
that as a race they are passionate, intractable, and indisposed
to virtue, not because God has made them so,
but from bad education and the neglect of their masters.
The masters care nothing about their slaves’ morals,
except so far as their vices are likely to interfere with
their masters’ pleasures or interests. Hence the slaves,
having no one to care for them, naturally sink into an
abyss of wickedness. Their chief aim is to avoid, not
crime, but being found out. For if free men, able to
select their own society, and with many other advantages
of education and home life, find it difficult to
avoid the contact and contaminating influence of the
vicious, what can one expect from those who have none
of these advantages, and have no possibility of escape
from degrading surroundings? They are never taught
to respect themselves; they have no experience of
persons who do respect themselves; and they never
receive any respect from either their superiors or their
fellows. How can virtue or self-respect be learnt in
such a school? “For all these reasons it is a difficult
and surprising thing that there should ever be a
good slave.” And yet this is the class which St. Paul
singles out as being able in a peculiar way to “adorn the
doctrine of God our Saviour in all things.”
“To adorn the doctrine of God.” How is the doctrine
of God to be adorned? And how are slaves capable
of adorning it?
“The doctrine of God” is that which He teaches,
which He has revealed for our instruction. It is His
revelation of Himself. He is the author of it, the
giver of it, and the subject of it. He is also its end or
purpose. It is granted in order that men may know
Him, and love Him, and be brought home to Him.
All these facts are a guarantee to us of its importance
and its security. It comes from One Who is infinitely
great and infinitely true. And yet it is capable of
being adorned by those to whom it is given.
There is nothing paradoxical in this. It is precisely
those things which in themselves are good and beautiful
that we consider capable of adornment and worthy
of it. To add ornament to an object that is intrinsically
vile or hideous, does but augment the existing
bad qualities by adding to them a glaring incongruity.
Baseness, which might otherwise have escaped notice,
becomes conspicuous and grotesque. No person of
good taste and good sense would waste and degrade
ornament by bestowing it upon an unworthy object.
The very fact, therefore, that adornment is attempted
proves that those who make the attempt consider the
object to be adorned an object worthy of honour and
capable of receiving it. Thus adornment is a form of
homage: it is the tribute which the discerning pay to
beauty.
But adornment has its relations not only to those who
bestow, but to those also who receive it. It is a reflexion
of the mind of the giver; but it has also an influence
on the recipient. And, first, it makes that which is
adorned more conspicuous and better known. A picture
in a frame is more likely to be looked at than one that
is unframed. An ornamented building attracts more
attention than a plain one. A king in his royal robes
is more easily recognized as such than one in ordinary
clothing. Adornment, therefore, is an advertisement of
merit: it makes the adorned object more readily perceived
and more widely appreciated. And, secondly, if it
is well chosen and well bestowed, it augments the merit
of that which it adorns. That which was fair before is
made still fairer by suitable ornament. The beautiful
painting is still more beautiful in a worthy frame. Noble
ornament increases the dignity of a noble structure.
And a person of royal presence becomes still more regal
when royally arrayed. Adornment, therefore, is not
only an advertisement of beauty, it is also a real
enhancement of it.
All these particulars hold good with regard to the
adornment of the doctrine of God. By trying to adorn
it and make it more beautiful and more attractive, we
show our respect for it; we pay our tribute of homage
and admiration. We show to all the world that we
think it estimable, and worthy of attention and honour.
And by so doing we make the doctrine of God better
known: we bring it under the notice of others who
might otherwise have overlooked it: we force it upon
their attention. Thus, without consciously intending
to be anything of the kind, we become evangelists: we
proclaim to those among whom we live that we have
received a Gospel that satisfies us. Moreover, the
doctrine which we thus adorn becomes really more
beautiful in consequence. Teaching which nobody
admires, which nobody accepts—teaching which teaches
nobody, is a poor thing. It may be true, it may have
great capabilities; but for the present it is as useless
as a book in the hands of an illiterate savage, and as
valueless as treasures lying at the bottom of the sea.
Our acceptance of the doctrine of God, and our efforts
to adorn it, bring out its inherent life and develop its
natural value, and every additional person who joins us
in doing this is an augmentation of its powers. It is
within our power not only to honour and make better
known, but also to enhance, the beauty of the doctrine
of God.
But slaves,—and such slaves as were found throughout
the Roman Empire in St. Paul’s day,—what have
they to do with the adornment of the doctrine of God?
Why is this duty of making the Gospel more beautiful
specially mentioned in connexion with them? That
the aristocracy of the Empire, its magistrates, its
senators, its commanders,—supposing that any of them
could be induced to embrace the faith of Jesus Christ,—should
be charged to adorn the doctrines which they
had accepted, would be intelligible. Their acceptance
of it would be a tribute to its dignity. Their loyalty
to it would be a proclamation of its merits. Their
accession to its ranks would be a real augmentation
of its powers of attraction. But almost the reverse of
all this would seem to be the truth in the case of slaves.
Their tastes were so low, their moral judgment so
debased, that for a religion to have found a welcome
among slaves would hardly be a recommendation of it to
respectable people. And what opportunities had slaves,
regarded as they were as the very outcasts of society,
of making the Gospel better known or more attractive?
So many a person, and especially many a slave,
might have argued in St. Paul’s hearing; and not
altogether without reason and support from experience.
The fact that Christianity was a religion acceptable
to slaves and the associates of slaves was from very
early times one of the objections made against it by
the heathen, and one of the circumstances which
prejudiced men of culture and refinement against it.
It was one of the many bitter reproaches that Celsus
brought against Christianity, that it laid itself out to
catch slaves, women, and children, in short the immoral,
the unintellectual, and the ignorant classes. And we
need not suppose that this was merely a spiteful taunt:
it represented a deep-seated and not altogether unreasonable
prejudice. Seeing how many religions there
were at that time which owed much of their success
to the fact that they pandered to the vices, while they
presumed upon the folly and ignorance of mankind,
it was not an unjustifiable presumption that a new faith
which won many adherents in the most degraded and
vicious class of society, was itself a degrading and
corrupting superstition.
Yet St. Paul knew what he was about when he
urged Titus to commit the “adorning of the doctrine
of God” in a special manner to slaves: and experience
has proved the soundness of his judgment. If the
mere fact that many slaves accepted the faith could not
do a great deal to recommend the power and beauty of
the Gospel, the Christian lives, which they thence-forward
led, could. It was a strong argument à fortiori.
The worse the unconverted sinner, the more marvellous
his thorough conversion. There must be something
in a religion which out of such unpromising material
as slaves could make obedient, gentle, honest, sober,
and chaste men and women. As Chrysostom puts it,
when it was seen that Christianity, by giving a settled
principle of sufficient power to counterbalance the
pleasures of sin, was able to impose a restraint upon a
class so self-willed, and render them singularly well-behaved,
then their masters, however unreasonable
they might be, were likely to form a high opinion of
the doctrines which accomplished this. So that it is
neither by chance, nor without reason, that the Apostle
singles out this class of men: since, the more wicked
they are, the more admirable is the power of that
preaching which reforms them. And St. Chrysostom
goes on to point out that the way in which slaves are
to endeavour to adorn the doctrine of God is by cultivating
precisely those virtues which contribute most
to their masters’ comfort and interest,—submissiveness,
gentleness, meekness, honesty, truthfulness, and a
faithful discharge of all duties. What a testimony
conduct of this kind would be to the power and beauty
of the Gospel; and a testimony all the more powerful
in the eyes of those masters who became conscious that
these despised Christian slaves were living better lives
than their owners! The passionate man, who found
his slave always gentle and submissive; the inhuman
and ferocious man, who found his slave always meek
and respectful; the fraudulent man of business, who
noticed that his slave never pilfered or told lies; the
sensualist, who observed that his slave was never
intemperate and always shocked at immodesty;—all
these, even if they were not induced to become converts
to the new faith, or even to take much trouble to
understand it, would at least at times feel something of
respect, if not of awe and reverence, for a creed which
produced such results. Where did their slaves learn
these lofty principles? Whence did they derive the
power to live up to them?
The cases in which masters and mistresses were
converted through the conduct of their own slaves were
probably by no means rare. It was by the gradual
influence of numerous Christian lives, rather than by
organized missionary effort, that the Gospel spread
during the first ages of the Church; and nowhere
would this gradual influence make itself more strongly
and permanently felt than in the family and household.
Some slaves then, like some domestic servants now,
stood in very close relations with their masters and
mistresses; and the opportunities of “adorning the
doctrine of God” would in such cases be frequent and
great. Origen implies that it was no uncommon thing
for families to be converted through the instrumentality
of the slaves (Migne, Series Græca, xi. 476, 483). One
of the grievous moral defects of that most immoral age
was the low view taken of the position of women in
society. Even married women were treated with but
scant respect. And as the marriage-tie was very
commonly regarded as an irksome restraint, the condition
of most women, even among the free-born, was
degraded in the extreme. They were scarcely ever
looked upon as the social equals and the necessary
complement of the other sex; and, when not required
to minister to the comforts and pleasures of the men,
were often left to the society of slaves. Untold evil
was the natural result; but, as Christianity spread,
much good came out of the evil. Christian slaves
sometimes made use of this state of things to interest
their mistresses in the teaching of the Gospel; and
when the mistress was converted, other conversions in
the household became much more probable. Another
grievous blot on the domestic life of the time was the
want of parental affection. Fathers had scarcely any
sense of responsibility towards their children, especially
as regards their moral training. Their education
generally was left almost entirely to slaves, from whom
they learnt some accomplishments and many vices.
They too often became adepts in wickedness before
they had ceased to be children. But here again through
the instrumentality of the Gospel good was brought out
of this evil also. When the slaves, who had the care
and the training of the children, were Christians, the
morals of the children were carefully guarded; and in
many cases the children, when they came to years of
discretion, embraced Christianity.
Nor were these the only ways in which the most
degraded and despised class in the society of that age
were able to “adorn the doctrine of God.” Slaves
were not only an ornament to the faith by their lives;
they adorned it also by their deaths. Not a few slaves
won the martyr’s crown. Those who have read that
most precious relic of early Christian literature, the
letter of the Churches of Lyons and Vienne to the
Churches of Asia Minor and Phrygia, will not need to
be reminded of the martyrdom of the slave Blandina
with her mistress in the terrible persecution in Gaul
under Marcus Aurelius in the year 177. Eusebius
has preserved the greater portion of the letter at the
beginning of the fifth book of his Ecclesiastical History.
Let all who can do so read it, if not in the original
Greek, at least in a translation. It is an authentic and
priceless account of Christian fortitude.
What slaves could do then we all of us can do now.
We can prove to all for whom and with whom we work
that we really do believe and endeavour to live up to
the faith that we profess. By the lives we lead we can
show to all who know anything of us that we are
loyal to Christ. By avoiding offence in word or in
deed, and by welcoming opportunities of doing good
to others, we can make His principles better known.
And by doing all this brightly and cheerfully, without
ostentation or affectation or moroseness, we can make
His principles attractive. Thus we also can “adorn
the doctrine of God in all things.”
“In all things.” That all-embracing addition to the
Apostolic injunction must not be lost sight of. There
is no duty so humble, no occupation so trifling, that it
cannot be made into an opportunity for adorning our
religion. “Whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye
do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Cor. x. 31).
CHAPTER XXIII.
HOPE AS A MOTIVE POWER.—THE PRESENT HOPES
OF CHRISTIANS.
“For the grace of God hath appeared, bringing salvation to all
men, instructing us, to the intent that, denying ungodliness and
worldly lusts, we should live soberly and righteously and godly in
this present world; looking for the blessed hope and appearing of
the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ; who gave Himself
for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto
Himself a people for His own possession, zealous of good works.
These things speak and exhort and reprove with all authority. Let
no man despise thee.”—Titus ii. 11–15.
There are not many passages in the Pastoral
Epistles which treat so plainly as this does of
doctrine. As a rule St. Paul assumes that his delegates,
Timothy and Titus, are well instructed (as he knew
they were) in the details of the Christian faith, and he
does not stay even to remind them of what he had
frequently taught to them and to others in their presence.
The purpose of the Epistles is to give practical
rather than doctrinal instruction; to teach Timothy
and Titus how to shape their own conduct, and what
kind of conduct they are chiefly to insist upon in the
different classes of Christians committed to their charge.
Here, however, and in the next chapter, we have
marked exceptions to this method. Yet even here the
exception is more apparent than real; for the doctrinal
statements are introduced, not as truths to be recognized
and believed (it is taken for granted that they are
recognized and believed), but as the basis of the
practical exhortations which have just been given. It
is because these great truths have been revealed,
because life is so real and so important, and because
eternity is so certain, that Titus is to exert all his
influence to produce the best kind of conduct in his
flock, whether men or women, old or young, bond or
free.
The passage before us might almost serve as a
summary of St. Paul’s teaching. In it he once more
insists upon the inseparable connexion between creed
and character, doctrine and life, and intimates the close
relations between the past, the present, and the future,
in the Christian scheme of salvation. There are certain
facts in the past, which must be believed; and there is
a kind of life in the present, which must be lived; and
there are things in store for us in the future, which
must be looked for. Thus the three great virtues of
faith, charity, and hope are inculcated. Two Epiphanies
or appearances of Jesus Christ in this world are stated
as the two great limits of the Christian dispensation.
There is the Epiphany of grace, when the Christ
appeared in humility, bringing salvation and instruction
to all men; and there is the Epiphany of glory, when
He will appear again in power, that He may claim as
His own possession the people whom He has redeemed.
And between these two there is the Christian life with
its “blessed hope,” the hope of the Lord’s return in
glory to complete the kingdom which His first Advent
began.
Most of us make far too little of this “blessed hope.”
It is of incalculable value; first, as a test of our own
sincerity and reality; and secondly, as a source of
strength to carry us over the difficulties and disappointments
which beset our daily course.
There is perhaps no more certain test of a Christian’s
earnestness than the question whether he does, or does
not, look forward with hope and longing for Christ’s
return. Some men have seriously persuaded themselves
that there is no such thing either to hope for or to
dread. Others prefer not to think about it; they know
that doubts have been entertained on the subject, and
as the topic is not a pleasant one to them, they dismiss
it as much as possible from their minds, with the wish
that the doubts about there being any return of Christ
to judgment may be well-founded; for their own lives
are such that they have every reason to desire that
there may be no judgment. Others again, who on the
whole are trying to lead Christian lives, nevertheless
so far share the feelings of the godless, in that the
thought of Christ’s return (of the certainty of which
they are fully persuaded) inspires them with fear rather
than with joy. This is especially the case with those
who are kept in the right way much more by the fear
of hell than by the love of God, or even the hope of
heaven. They believe and tremble. They believe in
God’s truth and justice much more than in His love
and mercy. He is to them a Master and Lord to be
obeyed and feared, much more than a God and Father
to be adored and loved. Consequently their work is
half-hearted, and their life servile, as must always be
the case with those whose chief motive is fear of punishment.
Hence they share the terrors of the wicked,
while they lose their share of the joys of the righteous.
They are too much afraid to find any real pleasure
either in sin or in good works. To have sinned fills
them with terror at the thought of inevitable punishment;
and to have done what is right fills them with
no joy, because they have so little love and so little
hope.
Those who find from experience that the thought
of Christ’s return in glory is one on which they seldom
dwell, even if it be not positively unwelcome, may be
sure that there is something defective in their life.
Either they are conscious of shortcomings which they
make little or no attempt to correct, the recollection
of which becomes intolerable when confronted with
the thought of the day of judgment (and this shows
that there is a great lack of earnestness in their
religious life); or they are being content with low
motives for avoiding iniquity and striving after righteousness,
and thus are losing a real source of strength
to help them in their efforts. No doubt there are
persons over whom high motives have little influence,
and can have but little influence, because they are as
yet unable to appreciate them. But no one in watching
over either his own soul or the souls of others can
afford to be content with such a state of things.
Childish things must be put away, when they cease
to be appropriate. As the character develops under
the influence of lower motives, higher motives begin
at times to make themselves felt; and these must
gradually be substituted for the others. And when
they do make themselves felt, high motives are much
more powerful than low ones; which is a further reason
for appealing to them rather than to the others. Not
only is a man, who is capable of being moved both
by the fear of hell and by the love of God, more
influenced by the love than by the fear; but love has
more power over his will than fear has over the will
of one who cannot be influenced by love.
All this tends to show how much is lost by those
who make no effort to cultivate in their minds a feeling
of joy at the thought of “the appearing of the glory
of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ.” They
lose a great source of strength by neglecting to cultivate
what would be a powerful motive to help them on the
right way. Nor does the loss end here. With it they
lose much of the interest which they would otherwise
take in all that helps to “accomplish the number of
God’s elect and to hasten His kingdom.” Christians
pray daily, and perhaps many times daily, “Thy kingdom
come.” But how few realize what they are praying
for! How few really long that their prayer may be
speedily granted! How few take a keen and untiring
interest in all that promotes the coming of the kingdom!
And thus again motive power is lost; for if we had
but the eyes to see, and the heart to appreciate, all
that is going on round about us, we should feel that
we live, as compared with our forefathers, in very
encouraging times.
We are often enough told that Christianity in general,
and the Church of England in particular, is at the
present time passing through a great crisis; that this
is an age of peculiar dangers and difficulties; that we
live in times of unblushing vice and uncompromising
scepticism; and that the immensity of our social,
commercial, and political corruption is only the natural
outcome of the immensity of our irreligion and unbelief.
These things may be true; and there is no earnest
Christian who has not at times been perplexed and
saddened by them. But, thank God, there are other
things which are equally true, and which ought to be
equally recognized and remembered. If the present
is an age of peculiar dangers and boundless irreligion,
it is also an age of peculiar encouragements and
boundless hope.
There are Christians who love to look back to some
period in the history of the Church, which they have
come to regard as a sort of golden age; an age in
which communities of saintly men and women were
ministered to by a still more saintly clergy, and in
which the Church went beautifully on its way, not
altogether free from persecutions, which were perhaps
necessary for its perfection, but untroubled by doubts,
or dissensions, or heresies, and unstained by worldliness,
apostasy, or sloth. So far as the experience of
the present writer has carried him, no such golden age
can be found in the actual history of the Church.
It is not to be found in the New Testament, either
before or after Pentecost.
We do not find it, where we might have expected to
find it, in the period when Christ was still present in
the flesh as the Ruler and Instructor of His Church.
That period is marked by the ignorance and unbelief of
the Apostles, by their quarrels, their ambition for the
first places in an earthly kingdom, their intolerant spirit,
by the flight of all of them in the hour of Christ’s
danger, by the denials of St. Peter, by the treachery
and suicide of Judas. Nor do we find it, where again
we might have expected to find it, in the age immediately
succeeding the completion of Christ’s work, when the
Apostles, newly anointed with the Spirit, were still
alive to direct and foster the Church which He had
founded. That period also is marred by many disfiguring
marks. Apostles can still be timeserving, can
still quarrel among themselves; and they also experience
what it is to be forsaken and opposed by their own
disciples. Their converts, as soon as the Apostle who
established them in the faith is withdrawn, and sometimes
even while he is still with them, become guilty of the
gravest errors in conduct and belief. Witness the monstrous
disorders in the Church of Corinth, the fickleness
of the Galatian converts, the unchristian asceticism of the
Colossian heretics, the studied immorality of those of
Ephesus. The Church which was presided over by St.
Timothy was the Church of Alexander, Hymenæus, and
Philetus, who removed the very corner-stone of the faith
by denying the Resurrection; and the Churches which
were presided over by St. John contained the Nicolaitans,
condemned as hateful by Jesus Christ, and
Diotrephes, who repudiated the Apostle and excommunicated
those who received the Apostle’s messengers.
And there is much more of the same sort, as the
Pastoral Epistles show us, proving that what comes to
us at first as a sad surprise is of still sadder frequency,
and that the Apostolic age had defects and stains at
at least as serious as those which deface our own.
The failure to find any golden age in either of these
two divisions of the period covered by the New Testament
ought to put us on our guard against expecting to
find it in any subsequent period. And it would not be
difficult to take each of the epochs in the history of the
Church which have been selected as specially bright
and perfect, and show that in every case, directly we
pass through the hazy glow, which the imagination of
later writers has thrown around such periods, and get
down to solid facts, then, either the brightness and
perfection are found to be illusory, or they are counter-balanced
by many dark spots and disorders. The age
of the martyrs is the age of the lapsed; the ages of
faith are the ages of fraud; and the ages of great success
are the ages of great corruption. In the first centuries
increase of numbers was marked by increase of heresies
and schisms; in the middle ages, increase of power by
increase of pride. A fair comparison of the period in
which our own lot has been cast with any previous
period in the history of the Church will never lead to
any just feeling of discouragement. Indeed it may
reasonably be contended that at no era since Christianity
was first founded have its prospects been so bright as
at the present time.
Let us look at the contest between the Gospel and
heathenism,—that great contest which has been going
on since “the grace of God appeared bringing salvation
to all men,” and which is to continue until “the
appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour.”
Was there ever a time when missions were more
numerous or better organized, and when missionaries
were as a rule better instructed, better equipped, or
more devoted? And although it is impossible to form
a correct estimate on such a subject, because some of
the most important data are beyond our reach, yet it
may be doubted whether there ever was a time when
missions achieved more solid success. The enormous
growth of the colonial and missionary episcopate during
the last hundred years is at any rate one great fact
which represents and guarantees a great deal. Until
1787 there was not a single episcopal see of the Anglican
communion in any of the colonies or settlements of the
British Empire; still less was there a single missionary
bishop. And now, as the Lambeth Conferences remind
us, these colonial and missionary bishops are not far
short of a hundred, and are always
increasing.Including the English and American bishops, invitations to two
hundred and nine prelates were issued for the Lambeth Conference in
1888.
Or let us look at the relations between the great
Churches into which Christendom is unhappily divided.
Was there ever a period at which there was less
bitterness, or more earnest and wide-spread desire for
the restoration of unity? And the increased desire for
reunion comes hand in hand with an increase of the
conditions which would render reunion possible. Two
things are absolutely indispensable for a successful
attempt in this direction. First, a large measure
of culture and learning, especially among the clergy of
the divided Churches; and secondly, intelligent religious
zeal. Ignorant controversialists cannot distinguish
between important and unimportant differences, and
thus aggravate rather than smooth difficulties. And
without religious earnestness the attempt to heal
differences ends in indifferentism. Both these indispensable
elements are increasing, at any rate in the
Anglican and in the Eastern Churches: and thus
reunion, which “must be possible, because it is a
duty,” is becoming not only a desire but a hope.
Let us look again at our own Church; at its
abundant machinery for every kind of beneficent object;
at the beautiful work which is being done in a quiet
and simple way by numbers of Christian men and
women in thousands of parishes; at the increase in
services, in confirmations, in communions; at the
princely offerings of many of the wealthy laity; at the
humble offerings—equally princely in God’s sight—of
many of the poor. Can we point to a time when party
feeling (bad as it still is) was less rancorous, when
parishes were better worked, when the clergy were
better educated or more self-sacrificing, when the
people were more responsive to what is being done for
them?
The very possibility of seriously raising such
questions as these is in itself a reason for taking
courage, even if we cannot answer all of them in the
way that would please us most. There are at any rate
good grounds for hoping that much is being done for
the advancement of Christ’s dominion, and that the
prayer “Thy kingdom come” is being answered day
by day. If we could but convince ourselves more
thoroughly of the truth of all this, we should work
more hopefully and more earnestly. More hopefully,
because we should be working with a consciousness of
being successful and making progress, with a conviction
that we are on the winning side. And more earnestly,
not merely because hope makes work more earnest and
thorough, but also because we should have an increased
sense of responsibility: we should fear lest through
any sloth or negligence on our part such bright
prospects should be marred. The expectation of defeat
makes some men strive all the more heroically; but
most men it paralyses. In our Christian warfare we
certainly need hope to carry us onward to victory.
“The appearing of the glory of our great God and
Saviour Jesus Christ.” Among the foolish charges
which have been brought against the Revisers is that
of favouring Arian tendencies by blurring those texts
which teach the Divinity of Jesus Christ. The present
passage would be a sufficient answer to such a charge.
In the A.V. we have “the glorious appearing of the
great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ,” where both
the wording and the comma make it clear that “the
great God” means the Father and not our Saviour.
The Revisers, by omitting the comma, for which there
is no authority in the original, and by placing the
“our” before both substantives, have given their
authority to the view that St. Paul means both “great
God” and “Saviour” to apply to Jesus Christ. It is
not any Epiphany of the Father which is in his mind,
but the “Epiphany of the glory of our great God and
Saviour Jesus Christ.”
The wording of the Greek is such that absolute
certainty is not attainable; but the context, the
collocation of the words, the use of the word “Epiphany,”
and the omission of the article before “Saviour”
(ἐπιφάνειαν
τῆς δόξης τοῦ μεγάλου Θεοῦ καὶ σωτῆρος ἡμῶν Ἰ. Χ.),
all seem to favour the Revisers’ rendering.
And, if it be adopted, we have here one of the plainest
and most direct statements of the Divinity of Christ to
be found in Scripture. As such it was employed in the
Arian controversy, although Ambrose seems to have
understood the passage as referring to the Father and
Christ, and not to Christ alone. The force of what
follows is enhanced, if the Revisers’ rendering, which
is the strictly grammatical rendering, is maintained. It
is as being “our great God” that He gave Himself for
us, that He might “redeem us from all iniquity;” and
it was because He was God as well as man, that what
was uttered as a bitter taunt was really a glorious
truth;—“He saved others; Himself He cannot save.”
It was morally impossible that the Divine Son should
turn back from making us “a people for His own
possession.” Let us strengthen ourselves in the hope
that our efforts to fulfil this gracious purpose are never
thrown away.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE DUTY OF OBEDIENCE TO AUTHORITY, WITH
ITS LIMITS; THE DUTY OF COURTESY WITHOUT
LIMITS.
“Put them in mind to be in subjection to rulers, to authorities, to
be obedient, to be ready unto every good work, to speak evil of no
man, not to be contentious, to be gentle, showing all meekness toward
all men. For we also were aforetime foolish, disobedient, deceived,
serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful,
hating one another”—Titus iii. 1–3.
St. Paul, having in the previous chapter sketched
the special duties which Titus is to inculcate upon
different classes of Christians,—aged men and aged
women, young women, young men, and slaves,—now
passes on to point out what must be impressed upon
all Christians alike, especially as regards their conduct
towards those who are in authority and who are not
Christians.
Here he is on delicate ground. The Cretans are
said to have been a turbulent race, or rather a group of
turbulent races; neither peaceable among themselves,
nor very patient of foreign dominion: and the Roman
rule had been established there for less than a century
and a half. Previous to their conquest by Metellus in
B.C. 67, they had been accustomed to democratic forms
of government, and therefore would be likely to feel the
change to the Roman yoke all the more acutely. As
our own experiences in a neighbouring island have
taught us, people who have been allowed to misgovern
themselves, and to fight among themselves, for many
generations, do not readily give a welcome to a power
which deprives them of these liberties, even when it
offers in exchange for them the solid but prosaic advantages
of peace and security. Besides this, there was
in Crete a strong mixture of Jews, whose rebellious
propensities seemed to be unquenchable. Nor was
this all. Within the Church itself the spirit of anarchy
had displayed itself: partly because, as in the Churches
of Corinth and Galatia, the characteristic faults of the
people still continued to show themselves after the
acceptance of Christianity; partly because, as everywhere
in the Churches of that age, the contests between
Jewish and Gentile converts were always producing
disorder. This appears in the first chapter of our
Epistle, in which the Apostle states that “there are
many unruly men, ... specially they of the circumcision,”
and in which he finds it necessary to make it a
qualification for the office of bishop or overseer, that
the persons appointed should be such as “are not
accused of riot or are unruly.” Besides which, as we
learn from numerous sources in the New Testament,
there was in various quarters a tendency to gross misconceptions
respecting Christian liberty. Through
Gnostic and other antinomian influences there was a
disposition in many minds to translate liberty into
license, and to suppose that the Christian was above
the distinctions of the moral law, which for him had no
meaning. Lastly, there were probably some earnest
Christians, who, without going to any of these disastrous
extremes, or sympathizing with the factious and
seditious spirit of their fellow-countrymen, nevertheless
had serious doubts as to whether Christians were under
any obligation to obey a pagan magistrate, and perhaps
were inclined to believe that it was their duty to disobey
him.
For all these reasons St. Paul must have known that
he was charging Titus to give instructions, which
would be very unwelcome to a large number of Cretan
converts, when he told him to “put them in mind to
be in subjection to rulers and authorities, and to be
obedient.” But it was the very fact that the instructions
would be unwelcome to many, that made it so
necessary that they should be given. Both for the
internal well-being of the Church, and for the maintenance
of right relations with the State, it was imperative
that the principle of obedience to authority, whether
ecclesiastical or civil, should be upheld. There must
be peace, and there must be liberty: but there could
be neither the one nor the other without a respect for
law and for those who have to administer it.
The Apostle does not here argue the case. He
lays down certain positions as indisputable. The
loyal Christian must submit himself to those who
are placed over him; he must render obedience to
existing authorities. There is one obvious limit to
this which he indicates by a single word to be noticed
hereafter, but with that one qualification the duty
of obedience is imperative and absolute. Jew and
Gentile Christian alike must obey the laws, not only
of the Church, as administered by its overseers, but
also of the State, as administered by the magistrates,
even though the State be a heathen power and
the magistrate an idolater. The reason why St. Paul
does not argue the matter is obvious. He is not
writing to those who are likely to dispute or disobey
these injunctions, but to one who has to see that they
are obeyed. His object is not to prove the excellence
of the rules which he lays down, but to advise Titus
as to what rules are to be most insisted upon. Titus
was well aware of the principles upon which these
rules were based and of the arguments by which
the Apostle was accustomed to defend them. He does
not need information on that point. What the Apostle
thinks may be necessary for his guidance is a clear
intimation of those practical lessons of which the
Cretans needed most to be reminded. It was quite
possible that Titus might have taken the view that
the question about obedience to existing authorities
was a burning one, and that it would be better for
the present to say as little about it as possible. To
object, therefore, that these directions in the second
and third chapters of this Epistle are unworthy of
St. Paul, and consequently not written by him,
because they contain nothing which might serve as
a sufficient refutation of the adversaries, is to beat
the air without effect. They contain nothing calculated
to serve as a refutation of the adversaries,
because the Apostle writes with no intention of refuting
opponents, but in order to give practical
instructions to his delegate.
But although the Apostle does not here argue the
case, we are not left in ignorance as to the principles
upon which he based the rules here laid down so
emphatically. The thirteenth chapter of the Epistle
to the Romans is quite clear on that point. “There
is no power but of God; and the powers that be
are ordained of God. Therefore he that resisteth
the power, withstandeth the ordinance of God.”
That is the kernel of the whole matter. The fact
that a few rule over the many is not to be traced to
a world-wide usurpation of the rights of the simple
and the weak by the selfishness of the crafty and
the strong. That theory may explain the terrorism
of a bully, or of a band of brigands, or of a secret
society; it is no explanation of the universal relations
between governors and the governed. Nor is it the
result of a primeval “social compact,” in which the
weak voluntarily surrendered some of their rights in
order to have the advantage of the protection of the
strong: that theory is pure fiction, and finds no
support either in the facts of man’s nature, or in
the relics of primitive society, or in the records of
the past. The one explanation which is at once
both adequate and true, is, that all authority is of
Divine origin. This was the declaration of the Forerunner,
when his disciples complained to him of the
influence which Jesus exercised over those who came
in contact with His teaching: “A man can receive
nothing, except it have been given him from heaven”
(John iii. 27). This was the declaration of the Christ,
when the Roman Procurator pointed out to Him that
he had power of life and death over Him: “Thou
wouldest have no power against Me, except it were
given thee from above” (John xix. 11). The power
of the Redeemer over the minds of men and the
power of a heathen governor over the bodies of men
have one and the same source,—Almighty God.
Christ declared His innocence and asserted His claims;
but He made no protest against being tried by a
pagan official, who represented the power that had
deprived the Jewish nation of its liberties, because he
also represented the principle of law and order, and
as such was the representative of God Himself.
St Paul, therefore, is doing no more than restating
what the Lord had already taught both by word and
example. Christians must show submission to rulers
and constituted authorities, and must yield ready
obedience to magistrates, even when they are heathen.
As heathen they were no doubt rebels against God,
however little they might be aware of the fact. But as
magistrates they were His delegates, however little they
were aware of the fact. The Christian is aware of both
facts; and he must not suppose that the one cancels
the other. The magistrate still remains God’s delegate,
however inconsistent his own life may be with such a
position. Therefore it is not only allowable for Christians
to obey him; they must make it a matter of
conscience to do so: and the history of the Church
throughout the eras of persecution shows how greatly
such teaching was needed. Whatever may have been
the case when St. Paul wrote the Epistle to the
Romans, we may safely maintain that persecution had
already taken place when he wrote these instructions to
Titus. Not that he seems to have a persecuting power
in his mind, when he enjoins simple obedience to
existing authority; but he writes with full knowledge
of the extreme cases that might occur. A moralist
who could insist upon the duty of submission to rulers,
when a Nero had been on the throne for twelve or fourteen
years, was certainly not one who could be ignorant
of what his principles involved. Nor could it be said
that the evils of Nero’s insolent despotism were
counteracted by the excellence of his subordinates.
The infamous Tigellinus was Prætorian Prefect and
the Emperor’s chief adviser. Helius, who acted as
governor of Italy during the Emperor’s absence in
Greece, was in character a second Nero. And Gessius
Florus, one of Pilate’s successors as Procurator of
Judæa, was so shameless in his enormities, that the
Jews regretted the departure of his predecessor Albinus,
although he also had mercilessly oppressed them. But
all these facts, together with many more of the same
kind, and some also of an opposite character, were
beside the question. Christians were not to concern
themselves with discussing whether rulers governed
well or ill, or whether their private lives were good or
bad. The one fact which concerned them was that
the rulers were there to administer the law, and as
such must be respected and obeyed. The conscience
of Christians and the experiences of politicians, whether
rulers or ruled, throughout all the subsequent ages
have ratified the wisdom of St. Paul’s injunctions; and
not only their wisdom but their profound morality.
Renan says with truth, but with a great deal less than
the whole truth, that “Paul had too much tact to be
a preacher of sedition: he wished that the name of
Christian should stand well, and that a Christian should
be a man of order, on good terms with the police, and
of good repute in the eyes of the pagans” (St. Paul,
p. 477). The criticism which resolves a profound
moral principle into a mere question of tact is worthy
of the critic who makes it. Certainly St. Paul was
far-sighted enough to see that frequent collisions
between Christians and the recognized administrators
of the law would be no good thing for Christianity:
but it was not because he believed obedience to be the
best policy that he charged Titus to insist upon it.
It is of the very essence of a ruler that he is “not
a terror to the good work, but to the evil: ... for he
is a minister of God to thee for good, ... an avenger
for wrath to him that doeth evil.” It is quite possible
that the law which he administers is unjust, or that he
administers it in such a way as to make it work injustice,
so that good deeds are punished and evil deeds
are rewarded. But nowhere is good punished as good,
or evil rewarded as evil. When Naboth was judicially
murdered to gratify Jezebel, it was on the assumption
that he was a blasphemer and a rebel; and when Jesus
of Nazareth was condemned to death by the Sanhedrin
and by the Procurator, it was on the assumption that
he was guilty of similar crimes. So also with all the
monstrous and iniquitous laws which have been made
against Christianity and Christians. The persecuting
edict “cast out their name as evil.”
It was because men believed, or professed to believe,
that Christians were grievous offenders or dangerous
citizens, that they brought them before the magistrates.
And the same holds good of the religious persecutions
of which Christians have been guilty against other
Christians. Nowhere can we point to a case in which
a person has been condemned for having been virtuous,
or for having failed to commit a crime. Many have
been condemned for what was really meritorious, or
for refusing to do what was really wicked; but in all
such cases the meritorious conduct and the wicked
conduct were held to be of exactly the opposite character
by the representatives of the law. Legally constituted
authority, therefore, is always by profession, and generally
in fact also, a terror to the evil and a supporter
of the good. It is charged with the all-important duty
of upholding right and punishing wrong in human
conduct, a duty which it never disowns. For even when
through blindness or perversity it upholds what is
wrong or punishes what is right, it professes to be
doing the opposite. Therefore to rebel against it is
to rebel against the principle of moral government; it
is a revolt against that principle which reflects and
represents, and that by His ordinance, the moral government
of Almighty God.
St. Paul assumes that rulers aim at what is just and
right. The Christian is “to be ready unto every good
work”: and, although the words are no doubt intended
to have a general meaning as well, yet the context
suggests that their primary meaning in this place is
that Christians are always, not only to be obedient to
rulers and magistrates, but to be ready to support
and assist them in any good work: the presumption
being that what the authorities direct is good. But,
without perhaps having this object in view, the Apostle
here indirectly intimates the limits to a Christian’s
obedience and support. They are to be given to further
“every good work”: they cannot of course be given
to further what is evil. What then must a Christian
do when lawful authority requires him to do what he
knows to be wrong? Is he to rebel? to stir up a
revolt against those who make this demand? No, he
is still “to be in subjection to rulers”: that is, he must
disobey and quietly take the consequences. He owes it
to his conscience to refuse to do what it condemns:
but he also owes it to the representative of Divine law
and order to abstain from shaking its authority. It
has the power to give commands and the right to
punish disobedience, and he has no right to refuse both
obedience and punishment. To disobey and submissively
take the consequences of disobedience is his plain
duty in so painful a case. In this way, and in this way
only, will loyalty to conscience and loyalty to authority
both alike be preserved. In this way, and in this way
best (as history has again and again shown), is the
reformation of unjust laws effected. The moral sense
of society is far more impressed by the man who
disobeys for conscience’ sake and unresistingly goes to
prison or mounts the scaffold for his disobedience, than
by him who violently resists all attempts to punish him
and stirs up rebellion against the authority which he
cannot conscientiously obey. Rebellion may succeed
in redressing injustice, but at a cost which is likely to
be more grievous than the injustice which it redresses.
Conscientious disobedience, accompanied by loyal submission
to the penalty of disobedience, is sure to
succeed in reforming unjust laws, and that without any
cost to counterbalance the good thus gained.
Having thus trenchantly determined the duty of
believers towards rulers and magistrates, St. Paul
passes on to sketch their proper attitude towards other
members of society. And just as in speaking of
conduct towards authorities he evidently has in his
mind the fact that most authorities are unbelievers, so
in speaking of conduct in society he evidently is thinking
of a state of society in which many of its members
are unbelievers. What kind of conduct will Titus
have to insist upon as befitting a Christian? “To
speak evil of no man, not to be contentious, to be
gentle, showing all meekness towards all men.”
It would be difficult to point to a precept which is
more habitually violated by Christians at the present
day, and therefore more worthy of being constantly
brought to the front and urged upon their consideration.
There are plenty of precepts both of the Old and of
the New Testament, which are habitually violated by
the godless and irreligious, by those who, while bearing
the name of Christian, scarcely make even a pretence
of endeavouring to live Christian lives. But here we
have a group of precepts, which a large number, not
only of those who profess to live soberly and righteously,
but of those who do indeed in other respects live as
Christians should, consent to forget or ignore. “To
speak evil of no man; not to be contentious; to be
gentle, showing all meekness towards all men.” Let
us consider calmly what such words as these really
mean; and then let us consider what we constantly
meet with in the controversial writing, and still more
in the controversial speaking, of the present day.
Consider the tone of our party newspapers, and
especially of our religious newspapers, on the burning
questions of the hour and on the men who take a
leading part in them. Read what a High Church paper
says of a Low Church Bishop, or what a Low Church
paper says of a High Church Bishop, and measure it
by the injunction “to speak evil of no man.” Or again,
read what some of the organs of Dissent allow themselves
to say respecting the clergy of the Established
Church, or what some Church Defence orators have
allowed themselves to say respecting Liberationists,
and measure it by the injunctions “not to be contentious,
to be gentle, showing all meekness towards all
men.” It is sometimes necessary to speak out and call
attention to real or suspected evils; although not nearly
so frequently as we like to think. But it is never
necessary to throw mud and deal in personal abuse.
Moreover, it is very unbecoming to do so. It is
doubly unbecoming, as St. Paul reminds us. First,
such conduct is utterly un-Christian. Secondly, it is
very much out of place in those who before now have
been guilty of quite as grave faults as those for which
we now abuse others. We are just the persons who
ought to remember, because we know from personal
experience, how much the grace of God can effect. If
we have by His mercy been brought out of the sins
which we now condemn in other people, what may we
not hope for in their case, provided we do not disgust
them with virtue by our acrimonious and uncharitable
fault-finding? Abuse is the wrong weapon to use
against unrighteous conduct, just as rebellion is the
wrong weapon to use against unrighteous laws.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE CO-OPERATION OF THE DIVINE PERSONS IN
EFFECTING THE NEW BIRTH.—THE LAVER OF
REGENERATION.
“But when the kindness of God our Saviour, and His love toward
man, appeared, not by works done in righteousness, which we did
ourselves, but according to His mercy He saved us, through the
washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost, which He
poured out upon us richly, through Jesus Christ our Saviour; that,
being justified by His grace, we might be made heirs according to
the hope of eternal life.”—Titus iii. 4–7.
For the second time in this short letter we have
one of those statements of doctrine which are not
common among the practical instructions which form
the main portion of the Pastoral Epistles. The other
doctrinal statement was noticed in a previous discourse
on chap. ii. 11–14. It is worth while to compare the
two. Though similar, they are not identical in import,
and they are introduced for quite different purposes.
In the earlier passage, in order to show why different
classes of Christians should be taught to exhibit the
virtues which specially befit them, the Apostle states
the purpose of Christ’s work of redemption, a purpose
which all Christians are bound to help in realizing,
stimulated by what has been done for them in the
past and by the hope which lies before them in the
future. In the passage which we have now to
consider, St. Paul contrasts with the manifold wickedness
of unbelievers the undeserved mercies of God
towards them, in order to show what gratitude
those who have been brought out of their unbelief
ought to feel for this unearned blessing, a gratitude
which they ought to exhibit in gentle forbearance and
goodwill towards those who are still in the darkness of
unbelief as well as to others.
The passage before us forms the main part of the
Second Lesson for the evening of Christmas Day in
both the old and the new lectionaries. Its appropriateness
in setting forth so explicitly the Divine bounty in
the work of regeneration is manifest. But it would
have been equally appropriate as a lesson for Trinity
Sunday, for the part which each Person of the Blessed
Trinity takes in the work of regeneration is plainly
indicated. The passage is in this respect strikingly
parallel to what St. Peter had written in the opening of
his Epistle: “According to the foreknowledge of God
the Father, in sanctification of the Spirit, unto obedience
and sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ”
(1 Pet. i. 2). The goodness and love of God the
Father towards mankind is the source of man’s redemption.
From all eternity He saw man’s fall; and from
all eternity He devised the means of man’s recovery.
He appointed His Son to be our representative; and
He accepted Him on our behalf. In this way the Father
is “our Saviour,” by giving and accepting One Who
could save us. The Father “saved us ... through
Jesus Christ our Saviour.” Thus the Father and the
Son co-operate to effect man’s salvation, and each in a
very real and proper sense is called “our Saviour.”
But it is not in man’s own power to accept the salvation
thus wrought for him and offered to him. For power
to do this he needs Divine assistance; which, however,
is abundantly granted to him. By means of the outward
laver of baptism the inward regeneration and
renewal by the Spirit is granted to him through the
merits of Christ; and then the work of his salvation
on the Divine side is complete. Through the infinite
mercy of the Blessed Trinity, and not through his own
merits, the baptized Christian is in a state of salvation,
and is become an heir of eternal life. It remains to be
seen whether the Christian, thus richly endowed, will
continue in this blessed state, and go on, by the daily
renewal of the Holy Spirit, from grace to grace; or
will through his own weakness and wilfulness, fall
away. But, so far as God’s share in the transaction is
concerned, his salvation is secured; so that, as the
Church of England affirms in the note added to the
service for the Public Baptism of Infants: “It is
certain by God’s Word, that children which are
baptized, dying before they commit actual sin, are undoubtedly
saved.” And the several parts which the
Persons of the Blessed Trinity take in the work of salvation
are clearly indicated in one of the prayers before the
baptismal act, as in the present passage by St. Paul.
Prayer is offered to the “heavenly Father,” that He
will “give His Holy Spirit to this Infant, that he may
be born again, and be made an heir of everlasting
salvation; through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Thus, as
at the baptism of the Christ, so also at that of every
Christian, the presence and co-operation of Father, Son,
and Holy Spirit is indicated.
It is the Apostle’s object in this condensed doctrinal
statement to emphasize the fact that it was “not by
works in righteousness which we ourselves did,” but
by the work of the Blessed Trinity, that we were
placed in a state of salvation. He does not stop to
make the qualifications, which, however true and
necessary, do not alter this fact. In the case of adults,
who are converted to Christianity,—and it is of such
that he is thinking,—it is necessary that they should
be duly prepared for baptism by repentance and faith.
And in the case of all (whether adults, or infants, who
live to become responsible for their actions), it is
necessary that they should appropriate and use the
graces bestowed upon them; in other words, that they
should grow in holiness. All this is true; but it does
not affect the position. For although man’s co-operation
is indispensable—for God saves no man against
his will—yet without God’s assistance man cannot
either repent or believe before baptism, nor can he
continue in holiness after baptism. This passage
expressly denies that we effect our own salvation, or
that God effected it in return for our merits. But it
gives no encouragement to the belief that we have
nothing to do with “working out our own salvation,”
but have merely to sit still and accept what has been
done for us.
That “the washing of regeneration,” or (as the margin
of the R.V. more exactly has it) “the laver of
regeneration,”λουτρὸν παλιγγενεσίας. Comp. Eph. v. 26.
signifies the Christian rite of baptism, ought
to be regarded as beyond dispute. This is certainly
one of those cases to which Hooker’s famous canon
of interpretation most thoroughly applies, that “where
a literal construction will stand, the farthest from the
letter is commonly the worst” (Eccl. Pol., v. lix. 2).
This Hooker holds to be “a most infallible rule in
expositions of sacred Scripture”; and although some
persons may think that assertion somewhat too strong,
of the soundness of the rule no reasonable student of
Scripture can doubt. And it is worth our while to
notice that it is in connexion with this very subject of
baptismal regeneration that Hooker lays down this
rule. He is answering those who perversely interpreted
our Lord’s words to Nicodemus, “Except a man
be born of water and the Spirit” (John iii. 5), as meaning
no more than “Except a man be born of the
Spirit,” “water” being (as they imagined) only a
metaphor, of which “the Spirit” is the interpretation.
On which Hooker remarks: “When the letter of the
law hath two things plainly and expressly specified,
Water, and the Spirit; Water as a duty required on
our parts, the Spirit as a gift which God bestoweth;
there is danger in presuming so to interpret it, as if
the clause which concerneth ourselves were more than
needeth. We may by such rare expositions attain
perhaps in the end to be thought witty, but with ill
advice.” All which may be fitly applied to the passage
before us, in which it is quite arbitrary and against all
probability to contend that “the bath of regeneration”
is a mere metaphor for regeneration without any bath,
or for the Holy Spirit, or for the unmeasured bounty
with which the Holy Spirit is poured upon the
believer.
This might be tenable, if there had been no such rite
as baptism by water enjoined by Christ and practised
by the Apostles as the necessary and universal method
of admission to the Christian Church. In Eph. v. 26
(the only other passage in the New Testament in which
the word for “laver” or “bath” or “washing” occurs)
the reference to baptism by water is indisputable, for
the water is expressly mentioned. “Christ also loved
the Church, and gave Himself up for it; that He might
sanctify it, having cleansed it by the washing of water
with the word.” And in the passage in the First
Epistle to the Corinthians which, like the one before
us, contrasts the appalling wickedness of unbelievers
with the spiritual condition of Christians, the reference
to baptism is scarcely less clear. “And such were
some of you: but ye were washed (lit. ‘ye washed
away’Middle Voice, ἀπελούσασθε, on which see Professor Evans in the
Speaker’s Commentary iii., p. 282. And it is worth noticing that in
both passages the principal verbs are in the tense which in Greek
commonly indicates some one particular occasion, “Ye were washed,
were sanctified, were justified,” are all in the aorist. So also
here: “He saved us,” and “He poured out upon us” are both in the
aorist. And in both cases the natural reference is to the particular
occasion of baptism in which we “were washed, sanctified, and
justified,” because God “saved us by the laver of regeneration and
renewing of the Holy Spirit which He poured out upon us richly.”
your sins), but ye were sanctified, but ye were
justified in the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and in
the Spirit of our God” (1 Cor. vi. 11). In which
passage, as here, the three Persons of the Trinity are
named in connexion with the baptismal act.
And in speaking to the Jews at Jerusalem of his own
admission to the Church, St. Paul uses the same forms
of the same word as he uses to the Corinthians of their
admission. The exhortation of Ananias to him, as he
lay at Damascus, was “And now why tarriest thou?
Arise, and be baptized, and wash away thy sins”
(ἀπόλουσαι τὰς ἁμαρτίας σου),
“calling on His Name” (Acts xxii. 16): words which are very parallel to the
exhortation of St. Peter on the day of Pentecost:
“Repent ye, and be baptized, every one of you in the
Name of Jesus Christ unto the remission of your sins;
and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost” (Acts
ii. 38; comp. Heb. x. 23). In these passages we have
a sacred rite described in which the human and the
Divine elements are clearly marked. On man’s side
there is the washing with water; and on God’s side
there is the washing away of sin and pouring out of
the Spirit. The body is purified, the soul is purified,
and the soul is hallowed. The man is washed, is
justified, is sanctified. He is regenerated: he is “a
new creature.” “The old things,” his old principles,
motives, and aims, then and there “passed away”
(aorist tense, παρῆλθεν): “behold, they are become
new” (2 Cor. v. 17). Can any one, with these
passages before him, reasonably doubt, that, when the
Apostle speaks of “the washing of regeneration” he
means the Christian rite of baptism, in which, and by
means of which, the regeneration takes place?
We are fully justified by his language here in asserting
that it is by means of the baptismal washing that
the regeneration takes place; for he asserts that God
“saved us through the washing of regeneration.” The
laver or bath of regeneration is the instrument or
means by which God saved us. Such is the natural,
and almost the necessary meaning of the Greek construction
(διά with the genitive). Nor is this an
audacious erection of a comprehensive and momentous
doctrine upon the narrow basis of a single preposition.
Even if this passage stood alone, it would still be our
duty to find a reasonable meaning for the Apostle’s
Greek: and it may be seriously doubted whether any
more reasonable meaning than that which is here put
forward can be found. But the passage does not stand
alone, as has just been shown. And there are numerous
analogies which throw light upon the question, proving
to us that there is nothing exceptional in God (Who
of course does not need any means or instruments)
being willing to use them, doubtless because it is better
for us that He should use them.
In illustration of the Greek construction we may
compare that used by St. Peter of the event which he
takes (and the Church of England in her baptismal
service has followed him) as a type of Christian
baptism. “When the long-suffering of God waited in
the days of Noah, while the ark was a preparing,
wherein few, that is, eight souls, were saved through
water: which also after a true likeness doth now save
you, even baptism.” St. Peter says that Noah and his
family “were saved by means of water” (δι’ ὕδατος),
just as St. Paul says that God “saved us by means of the laver of regeneration”
(διὰ λουτροῦ παλιγγενεσίας).
In each case the water is the instrument of salvation.
And the analogy does not end with the identity of the
instrument; that is the mere external resemblance
between the flood and baptism. The main part of the
likeness lies in this, that in both cases one of the same
instrument both destroys and saves. The Flood
destroyed the disobedient by drowning them, and saved
Noah and his family by floating them into a new
home. Baptism destroys the old corrupt element in
man’s nature by washing it away, and saves the
regenerated soul by bringing it into a new life. And
the other event which from the earliest days has been
taken as a figure of baptism is of the same kind. At
the crossing of the Red Sea, the water which destroyed
the Egyptians saved the Israelites. In all these cases
God was not tied to use water, or any other instrument.
He could have saved Noah and the Israelites, and
destroyed the disobedient and the Egyptians, just as
He could have healed Naaman and the man born blind,
without employing any means whatever. But for our
edification He condescends to employ means, such as
we can perceive and understand.
In what way is the employment of perceptible means
a help to us? In two at least. It serves the double
purpose of being both a test of faith and an aid to faith.
1. The acceptance of Divinely appointed means is
necessarily a test of faith. Human intellect is apt to
assume that Omnipotence is above using instruments.
“Is it likely,” we ask, “that the Almighty would
employ these means? Are they not altogether beneath
the dignity of the Divine Nature? Man needs tools
and materials: but God needs neither. It is not
credible that He has ordained these things as conditions
of His own operation.” All which is the old
cry of the captain of the host of Syria. “Behold, I
thought, he will surely come out to me, and stand and
call on the name of the Lord his God, and wave his
hand over the place, and recover the leper.” That is,
why need he enjoin any instrument at all? But if he
must, he might have enjoined something more suitable.
“Are not Abanah and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus,
better than all the waters of Israel? may I not wash
in them, and be clean?” In precisely the same spirit
we ask still, “How can water wash away sin? How
can bread and wine be Christ’s body and blood? How
can the laying on of a man’s hand confer the gift of the
Holy Spirit? Do not all such assumptions savour of
magic rather than of Divine Providence?” Therefore
humbly to accept the means which God has revealed as
the appointed channels of His spiritual blessings is a
real test of the recipient’s faith. He is thus enabled to
perceive for himself whether he does sincerely believe
or not; whether he has the indispensable qualification
for receiving the promised blessing.
2. The employment of visible means is a real aid to
faith. It is easier to believe that an effect will be produced,
when one can perceive something which might
contribute to produce the effect. It is easier to believe
when one sees means than when none are visible; and
it is still easier to believe when the means seem to be
appropriate. The man who was born blind would more
readily believe that Christ would give him sight, when
he perceived that Christ was using spittle and clay
for the purpose; for at that time these things were
supposed to be good for the eyes. And what element
in nature is more frequently the instrument both of life
and of death than water? What could more aptly
signify purification from defilement? What act could
more simply express a death to sin and a rising again
to righteousness than a plunge beneath the surface of
the water and a re-issuing from it? As St. Paul says
in the Epistle to the Romans: “We were buried therefore
with Him through baptism” (διὰ τοῦ βαπτίσματος)
“into death; that like as Christ was raised from the
dead through the glory of the Father, so we also
might walk in newness of life” (vi. 4). And again to
the Colossians: “Having been buried with Him in
baptism, wherein ye were also raised with Him through
faith in the working of God, Who raised Him from the
dead” (ii. 12). Faith in the inward gift, promised by
God to those who believe and are baptized, becomes
more easy, when the outward means of conferring the
gift, not only are readily perceived, but are recognized
as suitable. In this way our faith is aided by God’s
employment of means.
Is the “renewing of the Holy Ghost” the same thing
as the “washing of regeneration”? In this passage the
two expressions refer to the same fact, but in their
respective meanings they are not co-extensive. The
Greek construction is ambiguous like the English; and
we cannot be sure whether St. Paul means that God
saved us by means of the washing and by means of
the renewing, or that God saved us by means of a laver,
which is both a laver of regeneration and a laver of
renewal. The latter is more probable: but in either
case the reference is to one and the same event in the
Christian’s life. The laver and the renewing refer to
baptism; and the regeneration and the renewing refer
to baptism; viz., to the new birth which is then effected.
But, nevertheless, the two expressions are not co-extensive
in meaning. The laver and the regeneration refer
to one fact, and to one fact only; a fact which takes
place once for all and can never be repeated. A man
cannot have the new birth a second time, any more
than he can be born a second time: and hence no one
may be baptized twice. But the renewing of the Holy
Spirit may take place daily. It precedes baptism in the
case of adults; for it is only through a renewal which
is the work of the Spirit that they can prepare themselves
by repentance and faith for baptism. It takes
place at baptism, as the Apostle clearly indicates here.
And it continues after baptism; for it is by repeated
quickening of the inward life through the action of the
Spirit that the Christian grows in grace day by day.
In the case of the adult, who unworthily receives
baptism without repentance and faith, there is no
spiritual renewal. Not that the sacred rite remains
without effect: but the renewing of the Spirit is
suspended until the baptized person repents and
believes. Meanwhile the mysterious gift bestowed in
baptism becomes a curse rather than a blessing; or at
least a curse as well as a blessing. It may perhaps
increase the possibilities of repentance: it certainly
intensifies the guilt of all his sins. Such a person has
thrust himself into a society without being qualified for
membership. He has incurred the responsibilities of
membership: if he desires the privileges, he must
obtain the qualifications.See Waterland, Regeneration Stated and Explained: Works, Vol.
vi. pp. 359—362. The whole tract may be commended for clearness
and moderation.
It is God’s gracious purpose that all should have the
privileges in full. In baptism He washed us from our
sins, He gave us a new birth, He poured out His Holy
Spirit upon us richly, through Jesus Christ; “in order
that, being justified by His grace, we might be made
heirs according to hope of eternal life.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MEANING OF HERESY IN THE NEW TESTAMENT,
AND THE APOSTLE’S DIRECTIONS RESPECTING
THE TREATMENT OF HERETICAL
PERSONS.
“A man that is heretical after a first and second admonition
refuse; knowing that such a one is perverted, and sinneth, being
self-condemned”—Titus iii. 10, 11.
It is in connexion with this instruction respecting
the treatment of heretical persons that we have
some of the earliest testimonies to the genuineness of
the Epistle to Titus. Thus Irenæus about A.D. 180
writes: “But as many as fall away from” (ἀφίστανται,
1 Tim. iv. 1) “the Church and give heed to these old
wives’ fables” (γραώδεσι μύθοις, 1 Tim. iv. 7), “are truly
self-condemned” (αὐτοκατάκριτοι, Tit. iii. 1): “whom
Paul charges us after a first and second admonition to
refuse” (Adv. Hær., I. xvi. 3). It will be observed that
in this passage Irenæus makes an obvious allusion to
the First Epistle to Timothy, and then quotes the very
words of our text, attributing them expressly to St.
Paul. And about ten or twelve years later, Tertullian,
after commenting on St. Paul’s words to the Corinthians,
“For there must be also heresies among you,
that they which are approved may be made manifest
among you” (1 Cor. xi. 19), continues as follows: “But
no more about that, seeing that it is the same Paul
who elsewhere also in writing to the Galatians reckons
heresies among sins of the flesh (Gal. v. 20), and who
intimates to Titus that a man who is heretical must after
a firstIt is worth noting that Tertullian, with several other Latin
writers, omits the second admonition: hominem hæreticum post
primam correptionem recusandum. Similarly Cyprian: hæreticum
hominem post unam correptionem devita (Test., III. 78).
admonition be refused, because he that is such is
perverted and sinneth as being self-condemned. But in
almost every Epistle, when insisting on the duty of
avoiding false doctrines, he censures heresies of
which the practical results are false doctrines, called in
Greek heresies, with reference to the choice which a
man exercises, whether in instituting or in adopting
them. For this reason he says that the heretical
person is also self-condemned, because he has chosen
for himself that in which he is condemned. We, however,
may not allow ourselves anything after our own
will; nor yet choose what any one has introduced of
his own will. The Apostles of the Lord are our
authorities: and even they did not choose to introduce
anything of their own will, but faithfully consigned to
the nations the instruction which they received from
Christ. And so, even if an angel from heaven were to
preach any other gospel, he would be called accursed
by us” (De Præs. Hær., vi). In this passage, which
contains a valuable comment on the meaning of the
word “heresy,” it will be noticed that Tertullian not
only quotes the text before us as coming from the
Epistle to Titus, but, like Irenæus, his earlier contemporary,
says expressly that the words are those of St.
Paul. Thus, from both sides of the Mediterranean,
men who had very large opportunities of knowing what
books were accepted as Apostolic and what not, attribute
our Epistle without hesitation to St. Paul. And
in both cases this is done in treatises directed against
heretics, who might be expected to reply with very
telling effect, if it could be shown that what was
quoted against them as the writing of an Apostle was
of quite doubtful origin and authority.
But the testimony which these passages bear to the
authenticity of this Epistle is not the main reason for
their being quoted here. Their interest for us now
consists in the light which they throw upon the history
of the word “heresy,” and upon the attitude of the
primitive Church towards heretics.
“Heresy,” as Tertullian points out, is a word of
Greek origin, and the idea which lies at the root of
it is choice.αἵρεσις, from
αἱρεῖν, αἱρεῖσθαι,
“to choose”: not from hærere, “to
stick fast,” as has been ignorantly asserted.
Choosing for oneself what pleases oneself,
independently of other considerations;—that is
the fundamental notion on which later meanings of the
term are based. Thus in the Septuagint it is used of
a free-will offering, as distinct from what a man is bound
to offer (Lev. xxii. 18; comp. 1 Macc. viii. 30). Then
comes the notion of choice in reference to matters of
opinion, without, however, necessarily implying that
the chosen opinion is a bad one. And in this sense
it is used quite as often for the party or school of
thought which holds the particular opinion as for the
body of opinion which is held. In this sense it is
several times used in the Acts of the Apostles; as “the
sect of the Sadducees” (v. 17), “the sect of the Pharisees”
(xv. 5; xxvi. 5): and in this way Christianity itself
was spoken of as a “heresy” or “sect”; that is, a
party with chosen opinions (xxiv. 5, 14; xxviii. 22).
And in profane literature we find Diogenes Laertius in
the second or third century speaking of ten “heresies”
or schools in moral philosophy (i. 19). But it will be
seen from the passages in the Acts that the word is
already acquiring somewhat of a bad meaning; and
indeed this was almost inevitable, unless the original
signification was entirely abandoned. In all spheres
of thought and action, and especially in matters of
belief, a tendency to choose for oneself, and to pursue
one’s own way independently, almost of necessity
leads to separation from others, to divisions and
factions. And factions in the Church readily widen
into schisms and harden into heresies.
Outside the Acts of the Apostles the word heresy is
found in the New Testament only in three passages:
1 Cor. xi. 19; Gal. v. 20; and 2 Pet. ii. 1. In the last of
these it is used of the erroneous opinions themselves;
in the other two the parties who hold them may be indicated.
But in all cases the word is used of divisions
inside the Church, not of separations from it or of positions
antagonistic to it. Thus in 2 Pet. ii. 1 we have
the prophecy that “there shall be false teachers, who
shall privily bring in destructive heresies, denying even
the Master that bought them.” Here the false teachers
are evidently inside the Church, corrupting its members;
not outside, inducing its members to leave it.
For the prophecy continues: “And many shall follow
their lascivious doings; by reason of whom the way
of the truth shall be evil spoken of.” They could not
cause “the way of the truth to be evil spoken of,” if
they were complete outsiders, professing to have no
connexion with it. In Gal. v. 20 “heresies” are
among “the works of the flesh” against which St.
Paul warns his fickle converts, and “heresies” are
there coupled with “factions” and “divisions.” In
1 Cor. xi. 19 the Apostle gives as a reason for
believing the report that there are divisions in the
Church of Corinth the fact that (man’s tendency to
differ being what it is) divisions are inevitable, and
have their use, for in this way those which are approved
among Christians are made manifest. It is possible in
both these passages to understand St. Paul as meaning
the “self-chosen views,” as in the passage in 2 Pet.,
rather than the schools or parties which have adopted
the views. But this is not of much moment. The important
thing to notice is, that in all three cases the
“heresies” have caused or are tending to cause splits
inside the Church: they do not indicate hostile positions
outside it. This use of the word is analogous to
that in the Acts of the Apostles, where it represents
the Pharisees and Sadducees, and even the Christian
Church itself, as parties or schools inside Judaism, not
as revolts against it. We shall be seriously misled, if
we allow the later meaning of “heresy,” with all its
medieval associations, to colour our interpretation of
the term as we find it in the New Testament.
Another important thing to remember in reference
to the strong language which St. Paul and other
writers in the New Testament use with regard to
“heresies” and erroneous doctrine, and the still
stronger language used by early Christian writers in
commenting on these texts, is the downright wickedness
of a good many of the “self-chosen views”
which had begun to appear in the Church in the first
century, and which became rampant during the second.
The peril, not only to faith, but to morals, was
immense, and it extended to the very foundations of
both. When Christians were told that there were
two Creators, of whom one was good and one was
evil; that the Incarnation was an impossibility; that
man’s body was so vile that it was a duty to abuse
it; that his spirit was so pure that it was impossible
to defile it; that to acquire knowledge through crime
was estimable, for knowledge was good, and crime
was of no moral significance to the enlightened;—then
it was necessary to speak out, and tell men in
plain terms what the persons who were inculcating
such views were really doing, and what strong
measures would be necessary, if they persisted in
such teaching.
Unless we keep a firm grasp upon these two facts;—(1)
the difference between the meaning of the word
“heresy” as we find it in the New Testament and
its usual meaning at the present time; and (2) the
monstrous character of some of the views which
many persons in the first century, and many more
in the second, claimed to hold as part and parcel
of the Christian religion;—we shall be liable to go
grievously astray in drawing conclusions as to our
own practice from what is said on the subject in
Scripture.
“Woe unto the world,” said our blessed Lord,
“because of occasions of stumbling! For it must
needs be that the occasions come; but woe to that
man through whom the occasion cometh” (Matt. xviii.
7). Human nature being what it is, it is morally
impossible that no one should ever lead another into
sin. But that fact does not destroy the responsibility
of the individual who leads his fellows into sin. St.
Paul takes up the principle thus laid down by Christ
and applies it in a particular sphere. He tells his
Corinthian converts that “there must be heresies”
among them, and that they serve the good purpose
of sifting the chaff from the wheat. Wherever the
light comes, it provokes opposition; there is at once
antagonism between light and darkness. This is
as true in the sphere of faith and morals as in that
of the material world. Sooner or later, and generally
sooner rather than later, truth and innocence are
met and opposed by falsehood and sin; and it is
falsehood, wilfully maintained in opposition to revealed
and generally held truth, that constitutes the
essence of heresy. There are many false opinions
outside what God has revealed to mankind, outside
the scope of the Gospel. However serious these may
be, they are not heresies. A man may be fatally
at fault in matters of belief; but, unless in some
sense he accepts Christianity as true, he is no heretic.
As Tertullian says, “In all cases truth precedes its
copy; after the reality the likeness follows” (De
Præs. Hær., xxix). That is, heresy, which is the
caricature of Christian truth, must be subsequent
to it. It is a distortion of the original truth, which
some one has arrogantly chosen as preferable to that
of which it is the distortion. Error which has not
yet come in contact with revelation, and which has
had no opportunity of either submitting to it or
rebelling against it, is not heretical. The heretical
spirit is seen in that cold critical temper, that self-confident
and self-willed attitude, which accepts and
rejects opinions on principles of its own, quite independently
of the principles which are the guaranteed
and historical guides of the Church. But it cannot
accept or reject what has never been presented to it;
nor, until the Christian faith has to some extent been
accepted, can the rejection of the remainder of it be
accounted heresy. Heresy is “a disease of Christian
knowledge.” The disease may have come from without,
or may have developed entirely from within;
and in the former case the source of the malady
may be far older than Christianity itself. But until
the noxious elements have entered the Christian
organism and claimed a home within the system,
it is a misuse of language to term them heretical.
We have not exhausted the teaching of the Apostles
respecting this plague of self-assertion and independent
teaching, which even in their time began
to afflict the infant Church, when we have considered
all the passages in which the words “heresy” and
“heretical” occur. There are other passages, in
which the thing is plainly mentioned, although this
name for it is not used. It has been said that “the
Apostles, though they claimed disciplinary authority,
had evidently no thought of claiming infallibility for
any utterances of theirs.”T. Ll. Davies in a remarkable paper on “The Higher Life,” in
the Fortnightly Review, January, 1888.
But they certainly treated
opposition to their teaching, or deviations from it,
as a very serious matter. St. Paul speaks of those
who opposed him in the Church of Corinth as “false
apostles, deceitful workers” and “ministers of Satan”
(2 Cor. xi. 13–15). He speaks of the Galatians as
“bewitched” by those who would pervert the Gospel
of Christ, and pronounces an anathema on those who
should “preach any gospel other than that which
he preached” (Gal. i. 7, 8; iii. 1). Of the same
class of teachers at Philippi he writes: “Beware of
the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of the
concision” (iii. 2). He warns the Colossians against
any one who may “make spoil of them through his
philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of
men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after
Christ” (ii. 8); just as he warned the elders of the
Church at Ephesus that after his departure “grievous
wolves would enter in among them, not sparing the
flock; and that from among themselves men would
arise, speaking perverse things, to draw away the
disciples after them” (Acts xx. 29, 30). And in the
Pastoral Epistles we have several utterances of the
same kind, including the one before us (1 Tim. i. 3–7,
19, 20; iv. 1–3; vi. 3, 4, 20, 21; Tit. i. 10–16; iii.
8–11; 2 Tim. ii. 16–18; iii. 8, 13).
Nor is St. Paul the only writer in the New Testament
who feels bound to write in this strain. The
same kind of language fills no inconsiderable portion
of the Second Epistle of Peter and the Epistle of Jude
(2 Pet. ii.; Jude 8–16). More remarkable still, we
find even the Apostle of Love speaking in tones not
less severe. The Epistles to the Seven Churches of
Asia abound in such things (Rev. ii.; iii). In his
General Epistle he asks, “Who is the liar but he that
denieth that Jesus is the Christ? This is the antichrist,
even he that denieth the Father and the Son”
(1 John ii. 22: comp. ii. 26; iv. 1, 3). In his letter to
“the elect lady and her children” he speaks of the
“many deceivers” who “confess not that Jesus Christ
cometh in the flesh.” And, in a passage not unlike
the direction to Titus which we are now considering,
he says: “If any one cometh unto you, and bringeth
not this teaching, receive him not into your house, and
give him no greeting: for he that giveth him greeting
partaketh in his evil works.”
The impression which these passages produce on
our minds is at least this;—that, whether or no the
Apostles were conscious of being protected by the
Holy Spirit from teaching anything that was doctrinally
false, they were at any rate very stern in their condemnation
of those Christians who deliberately contravened
what an Apostle had taught. And this sternness
is not confined to those who resisted the instructions
of Apostles in matters of discipline. It is quite as
clearly manifested against those who contradicted
Apostolic teaching in matters of faith. The context of
the passage before us shows that by “a man that is
heretical” is meant one who wilfully takes his own line
and thereby causes divisions in doctrine quite as much
as one who does so as regards the order and discipline
of the Church.
What, then, does St. Paul mean when he directs
Titus to “refuse” such a person after once or twice
admonishing him? Certainly not that he is to excommunicate
him; the passage has nothing to do with
formal excommunication. It is possible to maintain
that the direction here given may imply excommunication;
but it is also possible to maintain that it need
not imply anything of the kind; and therefore that such
an interpretation substitutes an uncertain inference for
what is certainly expressed. The word translated in the
R.V. “refuse,” and in
the A.V. “reject,” is the same as
that which is used in 1 Tim. v. 11 in the text, “Younger
widows refuse” (παραιτοῦ). It means, “avoid, shun, excuse
yourself from having anything to do with” (comp.
Heb. xii. 25). It is also used of things as well as of
persons, and in much the same sense: “Refuse profane
and old wives’ fables” (1 Tim. iv. 7), and “Foolish
and ignorant questions refuse” (2 Tim. ii. 23). The
meaning, then, here seems to be that, after a few
attempts to induce the heretical person to desist from
his perverse and self-willed conduct, Titus is to waste
no more time on him, because now he knows that his
efforts will be useless. At first he did not know this;
but after having failed once or twice, he will see that
it is vain to repeat what produces no effect. The
man’s self-will is incorrigible; and not only that, but
inexcusable; for he stands self-condemned. He deliberately
chose what was opposed to the received
teaching; and he deliberately persists in it after its
erroneous character has been pointed out to him. He
“is perverted, and sinneth”: that is, he not only has
sinned, but goes on sinning: he continues in his sin,
in spite of entreaty, exhortation, and reproof.
In what way are the directions here given to Titus
to be used for our own guidance at the present time?
Certain limitations as to their application have been
already pointed out. They do not apply to persons
who have always been, or who have ended in placing
themselves, outside the Christian Church. They refer
to persons who contend that their self-chosen views
are part and parcel of the Gospel, and who claim to
hold and teach such views as members or even ministers
of the Church. Secondly, they refer to grave and
fundamental errors with regard to first principles; not
to eccentric views respecting matters of detail. And
in determining this second point much caution will be
needed; especially when inferences are drawn from a
man’s teaching. We should be on our guard with
regard to assertions that a particular teacher virtually
denies the Divinity of Christ, or the Trinity, or the
personality of God. But when both these points are
quite clear, that the person contradicts some of the
primary truths of the Gospel, and that he claims to do
so as a Christian, what is a minister to do to such a
member of his flock? He is to make one or two efforts
to reclaim him, and then to have as little to do with
him as possible.
In all such cases there are three sets of persons to
be considered:—the heretic himself, those who have to
deal with him, and the Church at large. What conduct
on the part of those who have to deal with him will be
least prejudicial to themselves and to the Church, and
most beneficial to the man himself? The supreme law
of charity must be the guiding principle. But that is
no true charity which shows tenderness to one person
in such a way as to do grievous harm to others, or to
do more harm than good to the person who receives it.
Love of what is good is not only consistent with hatred
of what is evil; it cannot exist without such hatred.
What we have to consider, therefore, is this. Will friendliness
confirm him in his error? Would he be more
impressed by severity? Is intercourse with him likely
to lead to our being led astray? Will it increase his
influence and his opportunities of doing harm? Is
severity likely to excite sympathy in other people, first
for him, and then for his teaching? It is impossible
to lay down a hard and fast rule that would cover all
cases; and while we remember the stern instructions
which St. Paul gives to Titus, and St. John to the
“elect lady,” let us not forget the way in which Jesus
Christ treated publicans and sinners.
In our own day there is danger of mistaking lazy or
weak indifferentism for Christian charity. It is a
convenient doctrine that the beliefs of our fellow-Christians
are no concern of ours, even when they try
to propagate what contradicts the creed. And, while
emphasis is laid upon the responsibility of accepting
articles of faith, it is assumed that there is little or no
responsibility in refusing to accept, or in teaching
others to refuse also. To plead for tenderness, where
severity is needed, is not charity, but Laodicean lukewarmness;
and mistaken tenderness may easily end in
making us “partakers in evil works.” To be severe,
when severity is imperatively called for, is not only
charity to the offenders, it “is also charity towards all
men besides. It is charity towards the ignorant as
carrying instruction along with it; charity towards
the unwary, as giving them warning to stand off from
infection; charity towards the confirmed Christians, as
encouraging them still more, and preserving them from
insults; charity towards the whole Church, as supporting
both their unity and purity; charity towards all
mankind, towards them that are without, as it is recommending
pure religion to them in the most advantageous
light, obviating their most plausible calumnies, and
giving them less occasion to
blaspheme.”Waterland, The Importance of the Doctrine of the Holy Trinity
IV. ii. 2; Works, vol. v. p. 96. Oxford, 1823.
THE SECOND EPISTLE TO TIMOTHY.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE CHARACTER AND CONTENTS OF THE LAST
EPISTLE OF ST. PAUL.—THE NEMESIS OF
NEGLECTED GIFTS.
“For the which cause I put thee in remembrance that thou stir up
the gift of God, which is in thee through the laying on of my hands.
For God gave us not a spirit of fearfulness; but of power and love
and discipline.”—2 Tim. i. 6, 7.
In the Second Epistle to Timothy we have the last
known words of St. Paul. It is his last will
and testament; his last instructions to his favourite
disciple and through him to the Church. It is written
with full consciousness that the end is at hand. His
course in this world is all but over; and it will be
closed by a violent, it may be by a cruel death. The
letter is, therefore, a striking but thoroughly natural
mixture of gloom and brightness. On the one hand,
death throws its dark shadow across the page. On the
other, there is the joyous thought that the realization of
his brightest hopes is close at hand. Death will come
with its pain and ignominy, to cut short the Apostle’s
still unfinished work, to take him away from the
Churches which he has founded and which still sorely
need his guidance, and from the friends whom he
loves, and who still need his counsel and support.
But death, while it takes him away from much to
which he clings and which clings to him, will free him
from toil, and anxiety, and neglect, and will take him to
be with Christ until that day when he shall receive the
crown of righteousness which is laid up for him.
If the shadow of impending death were the only
source of gloom, the letter would be far more joyous
than it is. It would be far more continuously a strain
of thanksgiving and triumph. But the prospect of
ending his life under the hand of the public executioner
is not the thought which dominates the more sorrowful
portion of the Epistle. There is the fact that he is
almost alone; not because his friends are prevented
from coming to him, but because they have forsaken
him; some, it may be, for pressing work elsewhere;
others because the attractions of the world were too
strong for them; but the majority of them, because
they were afraid to stand by him when he was placed
at the bar before Nero. The Apostle is heavy-hearted
about this desertion of him, not merely because of the
wound which it inflicts on his own affectionate spirit,
but because of the responsibility which those who are
guilty of it have thereby incurred. He prays that it
“may not be laid to their account.”
Yet the thought which specially oppresses him
is “anxiety about all the Churches”—and about
Timothy himself. Dark days are coming. False
doctrine will be openly preached and will not lack
hearers; and utterly un-Christian conduct and conversation
will become grievously prevalent. And, while the
godly are persecuted, evil men will wax worse and
worse. This sad state of things has already begun;
and the Apostle seems to fear that his beloved disciple
is not altogether unaffected by it. Separation from St.
Paul and the difficulties of his position may have told
on his over-sensitive temperament, and have caused
him to be remiss in his work, through indulgence in
futile despondency. The words of the text strike the
dominant chord of the Epistle and reveal to us the
motive that prompts it. The Apostle puts Timothy in
remembrance “that he stir up the gift of God which is
in him.” Again and again he insists on this and
similar counsels. “Be not ashamed of the testimony
of our Lord, nor of me His prisoner; but suffer hardships.”
“That good thing which was committed to thee
guard through the Holy Ghost” (vv. 8, 13). “Suffer
hardship with me, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.”
“Give diligence to present thyself approved unto God,
a workman that needeth not to be ashamed” (ii. 3, 15).
“But abide thou in the things which thou hast
learned and hast been assured of, knowing of whom
thou hast learned them” (iii. 14). And then, as the
letter draws to a close, he speaks in still more solemn
tones of warning: “I charge thee in the sight of God,
and of Christ Jesus, Who shall judge the quick and the
dead, and by His appearing and His kingdom: be
instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke,
exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching.” “Be
thou sober in all things, suffer hardships, do the work
of an evangelist, fulfil thy ministry” (iv. 1, 2, 5).
Evidently the Apostle is anxious lest even the rich
gifts with which Timothy is endowed should be
allowed to rust through want of use. Timidity and
weakness may prove fatal to him and his work, in
spite of the spiritual advantages which he has enjoyed.
The Apostle’s anxiety about the future of the Churches
is interwoven with anxiety about the present and
future conduct of his beloved delegate and successor.
The Second Epistle to Timothy is more personal
than either of the other Pastoral Epistles. It is less
official in tone and contents, and is addressed more
directly to the recipient himself, than through him to
others. Three main subjects are treated in the letter;
and first and foremost of these is the conduct of
Timothy himself. This subject occupies about a third
of the Epistle. The next and longest section treats of
the present and future prospects of the Church
(ii. 14–iv. 5). And lastly the Apostle speaks of
himself.
It is not difficult to understand how even those who
condemn the Pastoral Epistles as the product of a later
writer, feel almost obliged to admit that at least some
of this touching letter must be genuine. Whoever
wrote it must have had some genuine letters of St. Paul
to use as material. It may be doubted whether any of
the writings of that age which have come down to us
are more thoroughly characteristic of the person whose
name they bear, or are more full of touches which
a fabricator would never have thought of introducing.
The person who forged the Second Epistle to Timothy
in the name of St. Paul must indeed have been a
genius. Nothing that has come down to us of the
literature of the second century leads us to suppose
that any such literary power existed. Whether we
regard the writer, or the circumstances in which he
is placed, or the person to whom he writes, all is
thoroughly characteristic, harmonious, and in keeping.
We have St. Paul with his exquisite sympathy,
sensitiveness, and affection, his intense anxiety, his
unflinching courage. We have the solemnity and importunity
of one who knows that his days are numbered.
And we have the urgency and tenderness of one who
writes to a friend who has his faults and weaknesses,
but who is trusted and loved in spite of them.
In encouraging Timothy to stir up the gift that is in
him, and not suffer himself to be ashamed of the
ignominy, or afraid of the hardships, which the service
of Christ entails, the Apostle puts before him five
considerations. There are the beautiful traditions of
his family, which are now in his keeping. There is the
sublime character of the Gospel which has been
entrusted to him. There is the teaching of St. Paul
himself, who has so often given him a “pattern of
sound words” and a pattern of steadfast endurance.
There is the example of Onesiphorus with his
courageous devotion. And there is the sure hope of
“the salvation which is in Christ Jesus with eternal
glory.” Any one of these things might suffice to influence
him: Timothy cannot be proof against them
all. St. Paul is persuaded that he is preserving the
heritage of undissembled faith which his mother and
his grandmother possessed before him. When he
considers the character of the Gospel, of which he has
become a minister, and the gifts of which he has
thereby become a recipient, he cannot now become
ashamed of bearing testimony for it. And has the
teaching of his old master, separation from whom used
once to make him weep, lost its hold upon him? Of
the other disciples and friends of the master, some
have turned away from him, showing coldness or
dislike instead of sympathy and self-sacrifice; while
others, at great personal inconvenience, and (it may be
also) great personal danger, sought him out all the
more diligently on account of his imprisonment, and
ministered to him. Will Timothy take his stand with
Phygelus and Hermogenes, or with Onesiphorus?
And over and above all these considerations, which are
connected with this world, there are the thoughts of
the world to come. This is no mere question of
expediency and opportuneness, or of personal loyalty
and affection to a human teacher and friend. There
is the whole of eternity at stake. To have shared
Christ’s martyr-death is to share His endless life. To
share His endurance and service is to share His
royalty. But to reject Him, is to ensure being rejected
by Him. Were He to receive faithless followers
among the faithful, He would be faithless to His
promises and to Himself.
For all these reasons, therefore, the Apostle charges
his disciple to “stir up the gift of God which is in
him through the laying on of the Apostle’s hands.”
And the fact that he uses so much argument and
entreaty is evidence that he had grave anxiety about
Timothy. Timothy’s natural sensitiveness and tenderness
of heart made him specially liable to despondency
and timidity, especially when separated from friends
and confronted by sturdy opposition.
“That thou stir up the gift of God which is in thee.”
Literally “that thou kindle up and fan into a flame.”
It does not necessarily imply that there has once been
a bright flame, which has been allowed to die down,
leaving only smouldering embers. But this is the
natural meaning of the figure, and is possibly what St.
Paul implies here. He does not explain what precise
gift of God it is that Timothy is to kindle into a warmer
glow; but, as it is one of those which were conferred
upon him by the laying on of hands at the time of his
ordination, we may reasonably suppose that it is the
authority and power to be a minister of Christ. In the
First Epistle St. Paul had given Timothy a similar
charge (iv. 14); and by combining that passage with
this we learn that both the Apostle and the elders laid
their hands on the young evangelist: “Neglect not
the gift that is in thee, which was given thee by
prophecy, with the laying on of the hands of the
presbytery.”The assertion that this laying on of hands is a mark of an age
subsequent to the Apostles, ignores the plain statements in Acts vi. 6
xiii. 3; comp. viii. 17; ix. 17; xix. 6; and Heb. vi. 2.
This talent committed to his charge for
use in God’s service must not be allowed to lie idle;
it must be used with vigour, and trust, and courage.
The very character of the gift bestowed proves that it
is to be used, and used freely. “For God gave us not
a spirit of fearfulness; but of power and love and
discipline.” St. Paul includes himself in the statement.
He, like his disciple, has received this gift from God,
and he knows from long experience what its nature is.
It is no “spirit of fearfulness;” no “spirit of bondage
leading to fear” (Rom. viii. 15). It was never meant to
produce in us a slavish fear of God, or a cowardly fear
of men. To feel awe and reverence when dealing with
God,—to feel responsibility when dealing with men,—is
one thing. To abstain from action for fear of
offending either, is quite another. It is sometimes
possible to avoid criticism by refusing to commit oneself
to anything; but such refusal may be a sinful neglect
of opportunities: and no error of judgment in using
the gifts committed to us can be worse than that of not
using them at all. Those are not necessarily the most
useful servants who make the fewest conspicuous
mistakes.
The spirit with which we are endowed is a spirit of
power, whereas a spirit of fearfulness is weak. Faintheartedness
cannot be strong. The fainthearted mistrust
themselves and others; and they discourage
themselves and others. They anticipate dangers and
difficulties, and thereby sometimes create them; and
they anticipate failure, and thereby often bring it
about. It is only by acting, and by acting vigorously
and courageously, that we find out the full power of the
spirit with which we have been blessed.
Again, the gift which God has bestowed upon us is
a spirit of love: and more than anything else perfect
love casts out the spirit of fear. Fear is the child of
bondage; love is the child of freedom. If we love God,
we shall not live in terror of His judgments: and if we
love men, we shall not live in terror of their criticisms.
Moreover, the spirit of love teaches us the nature of
the gift of power. It is not force or violence; not an
imposing of our own will on others. It is an affectionate
striving to win others over to obedience to the will
of God. It is the spirit of self-sacrifice; not of self-assertion.
Lastly, the spirit with which we are endowed by
God is a spirit of discipline. By discipline that cowardly
indolence, which the spirit of fearfulness engenders,
can be kept down and expelled. If it be asked, whether
the discipline be that which Timothy is to enforce in
ruling others, or that which he is to practise in schooling
himself, we may answer, “Both.” The termination
of the word which is here used
(σωφρονισμός) seems to
require the transitive meaning; and slackness in correcting
others may easily have been one of the ways
in which the despondency of Timothy showed itself.
On the other hand the whole context here speaks of
Timothy’s treatment of himself. To take a more lively
interest in the conduct of others would be discipline
for himself and for them also. There may be as much
pride as humility in indulging the thought that the
lives of other people are so utterly bad, that it is quite
out of the power of such persons as ourselves to effect
a reformation. This is a subtle way of shirking
responsibility. Strong in the spirit of power, glowing
with the spirit of love, we can turn the faults of others,
together with all the troubles which may befall us in
this life, into instruments of discipline.
The words of the Apostle, though primarily addressed
to ministers, in reference to the spiritual gifts bestowed
on them at their ordination, must not be confined to
them. They apply to the gifts bestowed by God upon
every Christian, and indeed upon every human being.
There is a terrible penalty attached to the neglect of
the higher faculties, whether intellectual or moral; a
penalty which works surely and unerringly by a natural
law. We all of us have imagination, intellect, will.
These wonderful powers must have an object, must
have employment. If we do not give them their true
object, viz., the glory of God, they will find an object
for themselves. Instead of soaring upwards on the
wings supplied by the glories of creation and the
mercies of redemption, they will sink downwards into
the mire. They will fasten upon the flesh; and in an
atmosphere poisoned by debasing associations they will
become debased also. Instead of raising the man who
possesses them into that higher life, which is a foretaste
of heaven, they will hurry him downwards with
the accumulated pressure of an undisciplined intellect,
a polluted imagination, and a lawless will. That which
should have been for wealth, becomes an occasion
of falling. Angels of light become angels of darkness.
And powers which ought to be as priests, consecrating
the whole of our nature to God, become as demons,
shameless and ruthless in devoting us to the evil one.
Not only every minister of Christ, but every thinking man,
has need from time to time “to stir up the gift of God
that is in him,” to kindle it into a flame, and see that it
is directed to holy ends and exercised in noble service.
God’s royal gifts of intellect and will cannot be flung
away, cannot be left unused, cannot be extinguished.
For good or for evil they are ours; and they are
deathless. But, though they cannot be destroyed they
can be neglected. They can be buried in the earth,
till they breed worms and stink. They can be allowed
to run riot, until they become as wild beasts, and turn
again and rend us. Or in the spirit of power, or love,
and of discipline, they may be chastened by lofty
exercise and sanctified to heavenly uses, till they
become more and more fit to be the equipment of one,
who is for ever to stand “before the throne of God, and
praise Him day and night in His temple.”
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE HEARTLESSNESS OF PHYGELUS AND HERMOGENES.—THE
DEVOTION OF ONESIPHORUS.—PRAYERS
FOR THE DEAD.
“This thou knowest, that all that are in Asia turned away from me;
of whom are Phygelus and Hermogenes. The Lord grant mercy unto
the house of Onesiphorus: for he oft refreshed me, and was not
ashamed of my chain; but, when he was in Rome, he sought me
diligently and found me (the Lord grant unto him to find mercy of
the Lord in that day); and in how many things he ministered at
Ephesus, thou knowest very well.”—2 Tim. i. 15–18.
We have here one of the arguments which St.
Paul makes use of in urging his beloved disciple
to stir up the gift of God that is in him through the
laying on of hands, and not allow himself to be afraid
of the ignominy and the sufferings, which the service
of Jesus Christ involves. After reminding him of the
holy traditions of his family, of the glorious character
of the Gospel which has been committed to him, and
of the character of the Apostle’s own teaching, St.
Paul now goes on to point out, as a warning, the
conduct of those in Asia who had deserted him in his
hour of need; and, as an example, in marked contrast
to them, the affectionate courage and persistent devotion
of Onesiphorus. Timothy is not likely to follow those
in Asia in their cowardly desertion of the Apostle. He
will surely bestir himself to follow an example, the
details of which are so well known to him and so very
much to the point. Timothy’s special knowledge of both
cases, so far as the conduct referred to lay not in Rome
but in Asia, is emphatically insisted upon by St. Paul.
He begins by saying, “This thou knowest, that all that
are in Asia turned away from me:” and he concludes
with the remark, “In how many things he ministered at
Ephesus, thou knowest very well;” or, as the Greek
comparative probably means, “thou knowest better than
I do.” And it is worth noticing that St. Paul uses a
different word for “know” in the two cases. Of his
desertion by those in Asia he uses a word of general
meaning (οἶδας), which implies knowledge about the
things or persons in question, but need not imply more
than hearsay knowledge of what is notorious. Of the
devoted service of Onesiphorus at Ephesus he uses
a word (γινώσκεις), which implies progressive personal
experience. Timothy had of course heard all about the
refusal of Phygelus and Hermogenes and others to
recognize the claim which St. Paul had upon their
services; what he saw and experienced continually
gave him intimate acquaintance with the conduct of
Onesiphorus in the Church of which Timothy had the
chief care.
There has been a great deal of discussion about the
meaning of St. Paul’s statements respecting these two
contrasted cases, Phygelus and those like him on the
one side, and Onesiphorus on the other: and with
regard to both of them a variety of suggestions have
been made, which are scarcely compatible with the
language used, and which do not after all make the
situation more intelligible. It must be admitted that
the brevity of the statements does leave room for a
certain amount of conjecture; but, nevertheless, they
are clear enough to enable us to conjecture with a fair
amount of certainty.
And first with regard to the case of those in Asia.
They are in Asia at the time when this letter is being
written. It is quite inadmissible to twist this plain
language and force it to mean “those from Asia who are now in Rome.”
Οἱ ἐν τῇ Ἀσίᾳ
cannot be equivalent to
οἱ ἐκ τῆς Ἀσίας.
If St. Paul meant the latter, why
did he not write it? Secondly, it is the proconsular
province of Asia that is meant, that is the western
portion of Asia Minor, and not the continent of Asia.
Thirdly, the “turning away” of these Christians in
Asia Minor does not mean their apostasy from the
faith, of which there is no hint either in the word or in
the context. St. Paul would hardly have spoken of
their abandonment of Christianity as turning away
from him. It means that they turned their faces away
from him, and refused to have anything to say to him.
When he sought their sympathy and assistance, they
renounced his acquaintance, or at any rate refused to
admit his claim upon them. It is the very expression
used by Christ in the Sermon on the Mount; “From
him that would borrow of thee, turn not thou away”
(Matt. v. 42). This was exactly what these Asiatic
disciples had done: the Apostle had asked them to
lend him their help and support; and they had “turned
away from” him. But what is the meaning of the
“all”? He says that “all that are in Asia turned
away from” him. Obviously there is some qualification
to be understood. He cannot mean that Timothy is
well aware that every believer in Asia Minor had
repudiated St. Paul. Some have supposed that the
necessary qualification is to be found in what follows;
viz., “of whom are Phygelus and Hermogenes.”
The meaning would then be that the whole of the
party to which Phygelus and Hermogenes belong
rejected the Apostle. But the arrangement of the
sentence is quite against this supposition; and there is
nothing either said or implied about these two men
being the leaders or representatives of a party. The
expression respecting them is exactly parallel to that in
the First Epistle respecting those who “made shipwreck
concerning the faith: of whom is Hymenæus
and Alexander” (i. 19, 20). In each case, out of a
class of persons who are spoken of in general terms,
two are mentioned by name. What then is the qualification
of the “all,” which common sense requires?
It means simply, “all whom I asked, all to whom I
made an appeal for
assistance.”See below on “All forsook me,” in No. XXXVII, p. 420.
At the time when
this letter was written, there were several Christians
in Asia Minor,—some of them known to Timothy,—to
whom St. Paul had applied for help in his imprisonment;
and, as Timothy was very well aware, they
every one of them refused to give it. And this refusal
took place in Asia Minor, not in Rome. Some have
supposed that, although these unfriendly Christians
were in Asia when St. Paul wrote about them, yet it
was in Rome that they “turned away from” him.
They had been in Rome, and instead of remaining
there to comfort the prisoner, they had gone away to
Asia Minor. On this supposition a difficulty has been
raised, and it has been pressed as if it told against the
genuineness of the Epistle. How, it is asked, could
Timothy, who was in Ephesus, be supposed to be well
aware of what took place in Rome? And to meet this
objection it has been conjectured, that shortly before
this letter was written some one had gone with news
from Rome to Ephesus. But this is to meet an
imaginary difficulty with an imaginary fact. Let us
imagine nothing, and then all runs smoothly. Every
one in Asia Minor, to whom application was made on
behalf of St. Paul, “turned away from” him and refused
to do what was asked. Of such a fact as this the
overseer of the Church of Ephesus could not fail to
have knowledge; and, distressing as it was, it ought
not to make him sink down into indolent despondency,
but stir him up to redoubled exertion. What the
precise request was that Phygelus and Hermogenes
and the rest had refused, we do not know; but very
possibly it was to go to Rome and exert themselves
on the Apostle’s behalf. Of the two persons named
nothing further is known. They are mentioned as
being known to Timothy, and very possibly as being
residents in Ephesus.
Now let us turn to the case of Onesiphorus, whose
conduct is such a marked contrast to these others. In
the most natural way St. Paul first of all tells Timothy
what he experienced from Onesiphorus in Rome; and
then appeals to Timothy’s own experience of him in
Ephesus. In between these two passages there is a
sentence, inserted parenthetically, which has been the
subject of a good deal of controversy. “The Lord
grant unto him to find mercy of the Lord in that day.”
On the one side it is argued that the context shows
that Onesiphorus is dead, and that therefore we have
Scriptural authority for prayers for the dead: on the
other that it is by no means certain that Onesiphorus
was dead at the time when St. Paul wrote; and that,
even if he was, this parenthesis is more of the nature of
a pious wish, or expression of hope, than a prayer. It
need scarcely be said that on the whole the latter is the
view taken by Protestant commentators, although by
no means universally; while the former is the interpretation
which finds favour with Roman Catholics.
Scripture elsewhere is almost entirely silent on the
subject; and hence this passage is regarded as of
special importance. But it ought to be possible to
approach the discussion of it without heat or prejudice.
Certainly the balance of probability is decidedly in
favour of the view that Onesiphorus was already dead
when St. Paul wrote these words. There is not only
the fact that he here speaks of “the house of Onesiphorus”
in connexion with the present, and of Onesiphorus
himself only in connexion with the past: there
is also the still more marked fact that in the final
salutations, while greetings are sent to Prisca and
Aquila, and from Eubulus, Pudens, Linus, and Claudia,
yet it is once more “the house of Onesiphorus” and
not Onesiphorus himself who is saluted. This language
is thoroughly intelligible, if Onesiphorus was no longer
alive, but had a wife and children who were still living
at Ephesus; but it is not easy to explain this reference
in two places to the household of Onesiphorus, if he
himself was still alive. In all the other cases the
individual and not the household is mentioned. Nor
is this twofold reference to his family rather than to
himself the only fact which points in this direction.
There is also the character of the Apostle’s prayer.
Why does he confine his desires respecting the requital
of Onesiphorus’ kindness to the day of judgment?
Why does he not also pray that he may be requited in
this life? that he “may prosper and be in health, even
as his soul prospereth,” as St. John prays for Gaius
(3 John 2)? This again is thoroughly intelligible, if
Onesiphorus is already dead. It is much less intelligible
if he is still alive. It seems, therefore, to be scarcely
too much to say that there is no serious reason for
questioning the now widely accepted view that at the
time when St. Paul wrote these words Onesiphorus was
among the departed.
With regard to the second point there seems to be
equal absence of serious reason for doubting that the
words in question constitute a prayer. It is difficult
to find a term which better describes them than the
word “prayer:” and in discussing them one would
have to be specially careful in order to avoid the words
“pray” and “prayer” in connexion with them. It
does not much matter what meaning we give to “the
Lord” in each case; whether both refer to Christ, or
both to the Father, or one to Christ and the other to
the Father. In any case we have a prayer that the
Judge at the last day will remember those good deeds
of Onesiphorus, which the Apostle has been unable to
repay, and will place them to his account. Paul cannot
requite them, but he prays that God will do so by
showing mercy upon him at the last
day.With the double use of Lord here, compare Exod. xxxiv. 9,
where Moses prays, “O Lord, let the Lord, I pray Thee, go in the
midst of us.” Comp. also Gen. xix. 24.
Having thus concluded that, according to the more
probable and reasonable view, the passage before us
contains a prayer offered up by the Apostle on behalf
of one who is dead, we seem to have obtained his
sanction, and therefore the sanction of Scripture, for
using similar prayers ourselves. But what is a similar
prayer? There are many kinds of intercessions which
may be made on behalf of those who have gone before
us into the other world: and it does not follow that,
because one kind of intercession has Scriptural authority,
therefore any kind of intercession is allowable. This
passage may be quoted as reasonable evidence that the
death of a person does not extinguish our right or our
duty to pray for him: but it ought not to be quoted
as authority for such prayers on behalf of the dead
as are very different in kind from the one of which
we have an example here. Many other kinds of
intercession for the dead may be reasonable and
allowable; but this passage proves no more than that
some kinds of intercession for the dead are allowable,
viz., those in which we pray that God will have mercy
at the day of judgment on those who have done good
to us and others during their life upon earth.
But is the right, which is also the duty, of praying
for the departed limited by the amount of sanction
which it is possible to obtain from this solitary passage
of Scripture? Assuredly not. Two other authorities
have to be consulted,—reason and tradition.
I. This pious practice, so full of comfort to affectionate
souls, is reasonable in itself. Scripture, which
is mercifully reticent respecting a subject so liable to
provoke unhealthy curiosity and excitement, nevertheless
does tell us plainly some facts respecting the
unseen world. (2) Those whom we call the dead
are still alive. God is still the God of Abraham, of
Isaac, and of Jacob: and He is not the God of the
dead, but of the living (Matt. xxii. 32). Those who
believe that death is annihilation, and that there can be
no resurrection, “do greatly err” (Mark xii. 27). And
(2) the living souls of the departed are still conscious:
their bodies are asleep in this world, but their spirits
are awake in the other. For this truth we are not
dependent upon the disputable meaning of the parable
of Dives and Lazarus; although we can hardly
suppose that that parable would ever have been
spoken, unless the continued consciousness of the dead
and their interest in the living were a fact. Christ’s
parables are never mere fables, in which nature is
distorted in order to point a moral: His lessons are
ever drawn from God’s universe as it is. But besides
the parable (Luke xvi. 19–31), there is His declaration
that Abraham not only “exulted” in anticipation of
the coming of the Messiah, but “he saw” that coming
“and was glad” thereat (John viii. 56). And there
is His promise to the penitent thief: “Verily I say
unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise”
(Luke xxiii. 43). Can we believe that this promise,
given at so awful a moment with such solemn assurance
(“Verily I say unto thee”), would have been
made, if the robber’s soul, when in Paradise, would be
unconscious of Christ’s companionship? Could Christ
then have “preached unto the spirits in prison”
(1 Pet iii. 19), if the spirits of those who had died
in the Flood were deprived of consciousness? And
what can be the meaning of “the souls of them that
had been slain for the word of God” crying “How
long, O Master the holy and true, dost Thou not
judge and avenge our blood?” (Rev. vi. 10), if the souls
of the slain slumber in the unseen world?
It is not necessary to quote Scripture to prove that
the departed are not yet perfect. Their final consummation
will not be reached until the coming of
Christ at the last great day (Heb. xi. 40).
If, then, the dead are conscious, and are not yet
perfected, they are capable of progress. They may
increase in happiness, and possibly in holiness. May
we not go farther and say, that they must be growing,
must be progressing towards a better state; for, so
far as we have experience, there is no such thing as
conscious life in a state of stagnation? Conscious life
is always either growing or decaying: and decay is
incipient death. For conscious creatures, who are
incapable of decay and death, growth seems to be a necessary
attribute. We conclude, therefore, on grounds
partly of Scripture and partly of reason, that the
faithful departed are consciously progressing towards
a condition of higher perfection.
But this conclusion must necessarily carry us still
farther. These consciously developing souls are God’s
children and our brethren; they are, like ourselves,
members of Christ and joint-heirs with us of His
kingdom; they are inseparably united with us in “the
Communion of Saints.” May we not pray for them
to aid them in their progress? And if, with St. Paul’s
prayer for Onesiphorus before us, we are convinced that
we may pray for them, does it not become our bounden
duty to do so? On what grounds can we accept the
obligation of praying for the spiritual advancement of
those who are with us in the flesh, and yet refuse to
help by our prayers the spiritual advancement of those
who have joined that “great cloud of witnesses” in the
unseen world, by which we are perpetually encompassed
(Heb. xii. 1)? The very fact that they witness our
prayers for them may be to them an increase of strength
and joy.
II. Tradition amply confirms us in the belief that
this pious practice is lawful, and binding upon all who
recognize its lawfulness. The remarkable narrative in
2 Maccabees xii. shows that this belief in a very
extreme form was common among the Jews, and publicly
acted upon, before the coming of Christ. It is highly
improbable that prayers for the dead were omitted
from the public worship of the synagogue, in which
Jesus Christ so frequently took part. It is quite certain
that such prayers are found in every early Christian
liturgy, and to this day form part of the liturgies in
use throughout the greater portion of Christendom.
And, although the medieval abuses connected with
such prayers induced the reformers of our own liturgy
almost, if not quite, entirely to omit them, yet the
Church of England has never set any bounds to the
liberty of its members in this respect. Each one of us
is free in this matter, and therefore has the responsibility
of using or neglecting what the whole of the
primitive Church, and the large majority of Christians
throughout all these centuries, have believed to be
a means of advancing the peace and glory of Christ’s
kingdom. About the practice of the primitive Church
there can be no question. Doubt has been thrown
upon the liturgies, because it has been said that some
portions are certainly of much later origin than the
rest, and therefore these prayers may be later insertions
and corruptions. But that cannot be so; for
liturgies do not stand alone. In this matter they have
the support of a chain of Christian writers beginning
with Tertullian in the second century, and also of early
inscriptions in the catacombs. About the meagre allusions
to the departed in our own liturgy there is more
room for doubt: but perhaps the most that can safely be
asserted is this;—that here and there sentences have
been worded in such a way that it is possible for those,
who wish to do so, to include the faithful departed in
the prayer as well as the living. Bishop Cosin has
given his authority to this interpretation of the prayer
that “we and all Thy whole Church may obtain
remission of our sins and all other benefits of His
passion.” By this, he says, “is to be understood, as
well those that have been here before, and those that
shall be hereafter, as those that are now members of
it:” and as one of the revisers his authority is great.
And the prayer in the Burial Service, “that we, with
all those that are departed in the true faith of Thy
holy name, may have our perfect consummation and
bliss, both in body and soul,” is equally patient of this
meaning, even if it does not fairly demand it. For we
do not pray that we may have our consummation and
bliss with the departed; which might imply that they
are enjoying these things now, and that we desire to
join them; but we pray that we with the departed may
have our consummation and bliss; which includes
them in the prayer. And the petition in the Litany,
“remember not, Lord, our offences, nor the offences of
our forefathers,” may, or may not, be a prayer for our
forefathers, according to the way in which we understand
it.
All this seems to show that neither Scripture nor the
English Church forbids prayer for the departed; that,
on the contrary, both of them appear to give a certain
amount of sanction to it: and that what they allow,
reason commends, and tradition recommends most
strongly. It is for each one of us to decide for himself
whether or no he will take part in the charitable work
thus placed before him.Sec J. M. Neale, Liturgies of St. Mark, St. James, St. Clement,
St. Chrysostom, etc., 1859, pp. 216–224; C. E. Hammond, Liturgies
Eastern and Western, 1878, pp. 45, 75, 113, 156, 183, 217, etc.; E.
Burbridge, Liturgies and Offices of the Church, 1885, pp. 34, 222, 249;
M. Plummer, Observations on the Book of Common Prayer, 1847, pp.
125–127; Church Quarterly Review, April 1880, pp. 1–25; H. M.
Luckock, After Death, 1879: also various articles in the Dict. of Christ.
Antiquities, 1875, 1880.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE NEED OF MACHINERY FOR THE PRESERVATION
AND TRANSMISSION OF THE FAITH.—THE
MACHINERY OF THE PRIMITIVE CHURCH.
“Thou therefore, my child, be strengthened in the grace that is in
Christ Jesus. And the things which thou hast heard from me among
many witnesses, the same commit thou to faithful men, who shall be
able to teach others also”—2 Tim. ii. 1, 2.
In this tenderly affectionate address we have a very
early indication of the beginnings of Christian
tradition and Christian schools, two subjects intimately
connected with one another. St. Paul having pointed
out as a warning to his “child” Timothy the cold or
cowardly behaviour of those in Asia who had turned
away from him, and as an example the affectionate
courage of Onesiphorus, returns to the charge of which
this letter is so full, that Timothy is “not to be
ashamed of the testimony of our Lord,” but be willing
to “suffer hardship with the gospel according to the
power of God” (i. 8). “Thou therefore, my child,”
with these instances in mind on the one hand and on
the other, “be inwardly strengthened in the grace that
is in Christ Jesus.” In his own strength he will be
able to do nothing; but in the grace which Christ
freely bestows on all believers who ask it of Him,
Timothy will be able to find all that he needs for the
strengthening of his own character and for the instruction
of others. And here St. Paul, in a way thoroughly
natural in one who is writing a letter which is personal
rather than official, diverges for a moment to give
utterance to the idea which passes through his mind
of securing permanence in the instruction of the faithful.
Possibly it was in reference to this duty that he
feared the natural despondency and sensitiveness of
Timothy. Timothy would be likely to shrink from such
work, or to do it in a half-hearted way. Or again the
thought that this letter is to summon Timothy to come
to him is in his mind (iv. 9, 21), and he forthwith
exhorts him to make proper provision for continuity of
sound teaching in the Church committed to his care.
“The things which thou hast heard from me among
many witnesses, the same commit thou to faithful men,
who shall be able to teach others also.” In other
words, before leaving his flock in order to visit his
spiritual father and friend, he is to secure the establishment
of apostolic tradition. And in order to do this he
is to establish a school,—a school of picked scholars,
intelligent enough to appreciate, and trustworthy
enough to preserve, all that has been handed down
from Christ and His Apostles respecting the essentials
of the Christian faith. There is only one Gospel,—that
which the Apostles have preached ever since the
Ascension. It is so well known, so well authenticated
both by intrinsic sublimity and external testimony, that
no one would be justified in accepting a different
Gospel, even upon the authority of an angel from
heaven. A second Gospel is an impossibility. That
which is not identical with the Gospel which St. Paul
and the other Apostles have preached would be no
Gospel at all (Gal. i. 6–9). And this Divine and
Apostolic Gospel is the Gospel which has been
committed to Timothy’s charge. Let him take all
reasonable care for its preservation.
For in the first place, such care was commanded
from the outset. Christ has promised that His truth
shall continue and shall prevail. But He has not exempted
Christians from the duty of preserving and
propagating it. He, Who is the Truth, has declared
that He is ever with His Church, even unto the end of
the world (Matt. xxviii. 20); and in fulfilment of this
promise He has bestowed the Spirit of truth upon it.
But He has nowhere hinted that His Church is to leave
the cause of His Gospel to take care of itself. On the
contrary, at the very time that He promised to be
alway with His disciples, He prefaced this promise
with the command, “Go ye therefore, and make disciples
of all the nations, ... teaching them to observe
all things whatsoever I commanded you;” as if His
promise were contingent upon their fulfilment of this
charge. At the very moment when the Church
received the truth, it was told that it had the responsibility
of safeguarding it and making it known.
And, secondly, experience has proved how entirely
necessary such care is. The Gospel cannot be superseded
by any announcement possessing a larger measure
of truth and authority. So far as the present dispensation
goes, its claims are absolute and final. But it
may be seriously misunderstood; it may be corrupted
by large admixture of error; it may be partially or
even totally forgotten; it may be supplanted by some
meretricious counterfeit. There were Thessalonians
who had supposed that the Gospel exempted them from
the obligation of working to earn their bread. There
were Christians at Corinth and Ephesus who had
confounded the liberty of the Gospel with antinomian
license. There was the Church of Sardis which had so
completely forgotten what it had received, that no
works of its doing were found fulfilled before God, and
the remnant of truth and life which survived was ready
to perish. And the Churches of Galatia had been in
danger of casting on one side the glories of the Gospel
and returning to the bondage of the Law. Through
ignorance, through neglect, through wilful misrepresentation
or interested opposition, the truth might be
obscured, or depraved, or defeated; and there were
few places where such disastrous results were more
possible than at Ephesus. Its restless activity in
commerce and speculation; its worldliness; the seductiveness
of its forms of paganism;—all these constituted
an atmosphere in which Christian truth, unless carefully
protected, would be likely to become tainted or be
ignored. Even without taking into account the proposal
that Timothy should leave Ephesus for awhile and visit
the Apostle in his imprisonment at Rome, it was no
more than necessary precaution that he should endeavour
to secure the establishment of a permanent centre
for preserving and handing on in its integrity the faith
once for all committed to the saints.
“The things which thou hast heard from me among
many witnesses.” The last three words are remarkable;
and they are still more remarkable in the original
Greek. St. Paul does not say simply “in the presence
of many witnesses” (ἐνώπιον or
παρόντων πολλῶν μαρτύρων)
but “by means of many witnesses”
(διὰ πολλῶν μαρτύρων).
In the First Epistle (vi. 12) he
had appealed to the good confession which Timothy
had made “in the sight of many witnesses.” As
regards Timothy’s confession these were witnesses and
no more. They were able for ever afterwards to testify
that he had made it; but they did not help him to
make it. The confession was his, not theirs, although
no doubt they assented to it and approved it; and
their presence in no way affected its goodness. But
here those who were present were something more
than mere witnesses of what the Apostle said to
Timothy; they were an integral part of the proceeding.
Their presence was an element without which the
Apostle’s teaching would have assumed a different
character. They were not a mere audience, able to
testify as to what was said; they were guarantees of
the instruction which was given. The sentiments and
opinions which St Paul might express in private to
his disciple, and the authoritative teaching which he
delivered to him in public under the sanction of many
witnesses, were two different things and stood on
different grounds. Timothy had often heard from his
friend his personal views on a variety of subjects; and
he had often heard from the Apostle his official testimony,
delivered solemnly in the congregation, as to
the truths of the Gospel. It is this latter body of
instruction, thus amply guaranteed, of which Timothy
is to take such care. He is to treat it as a treasure
committed to his charge, a precious legacy which he
holds in trust. And in his turn he is to commit it to
the keeping of trustworthy persons, who will know its
value, and be capable of preserving it intact and of
handing it on to others as trustworthy as themselves.
Some expositors interpret the passage as referring,
not to the Apostle’s public teaching as a whole, but
to the instructions which he gave to Timothy at his
ordination respecting the proper discharge of his office;
and the aorist tense ἤκουσας favours the view that
some definite occasion is intended (comp. 1 Tim. iv. 14;
2 Tim. i. 6). In that case the Apostle is here showing
anxiety for the establishment of a sound tradition
respecting the duties of ministers,—a very important
portion, but by no means the main portion of the
teaching which he had imparted. But the aorist does
not compel us to confine the allusion to some one
event, such as Timothy’s ordination or baptism; and
it seems more reasonable to understand the charge
here given as a continuation of that which occurs
towards the close of the first chapter. There he says,
“Hold the pattern of sound words which thou hast
heard” (ἤκουσας) “from me;” and here he charges
Timothy not merely to hold this pattern of sound
words fast himself, but to take care that it does not
perish with him.
This, then, may be considered as the earliest trace
of the formation of a theological school,—a school which
has for its object not merely the instruction of the
ignorant, but the protection and maintenance of a
definite body of doctrine: That which the Apostle,
when he was in Ephesus, publicly taught, under the
sanction of a multitude of witnesses, is to be preserved
and handed on without compromise or corruption as
a pattern of wholesome doctrine. There are unhealthy
and even deadly distortions of the truth in the air, and
unless care is taken to preserve the truth, it may easily
become possible to confuse weak and ignorant minds
as to what are the essentials of the Christian faith.
The question as to the earliest methods of Christian
instruction and the precautions taken for the preservation
of Apostolic tradition is one of the many particulars
in which our knowledge of the primitive Church is so
tantalizingly meagre. A small amount of information
is given us in the New Testament, for the most part
quite incidentally, as here; and then the history runs
underground, and does not reappear for a century or
more. The first few generations of Christians did not
contain a large number of persons who were capable
of producing anything very considerable in the way of
literature. Of those who had the ability, not many
had the leisure or the inclination to write. It was
more important to teach by word of mouth than with
the pen; and where was the use of leaving records
of what was being done, when (as was generally
believed) Christ would almost immediately appear to
put an end to the existing dispensation? Out of what
was written much, as we know, has perished, including
even documents of Apostolic origin (Luke i. 1, 2;
1 Cor. v. 9; 3 John 9). Therefore, much as we lament
the scantiness of the evidence that has come down to
us, there is nothing surprising about it. The marvel
is, not that so little contemporary history has reached
us, but that so much has done so. And what it
behoves us to do is to make a sober use of such
testimony as we possess.
We shall be doing no more than drawing a reasonable
conclusion from the passage before us if we infer,
that what St. Paul enjoins Timothy to do at Ephesus
was done in many other Churches also, partly in
consequence of this Apostolic injunction, and partly
because what he enjoins would be suggested in many
cases by necessity and common sense. This inference
is confirmed by the fact that it is precisely to the continuity
of doctrine secured by a regular succession of
authorized and official teachers in the different Churches
that appeal is continually made by some of the earliest
Christian writers whose works have come down to us.
Thus Hegesippus (c. A.D. 170) gives as the result of
careful personal investigations at Corinth, Rome, and
elsewhere, “But in every succession (of bishops) and
in every city there prevails just what the Law and the
Prophets and the Lord proclaim” (Eus., H.E.,
IV. xxii.
3). Irenæus, in his great work against heresies, which
was completed about A.D. 185, says, “We can enumerate
those who were appointed bishops by the Apostles
themselves in the different Churches, and their successors
down to our own day; and they neither taught
nor acknowledged any such stuff as is raved by these
men.... But since it would be a long business in a
work of this kind to enumerate the successions in all
the Churches,” he selects as a primary example that of
“the very great and ancient Church, well known to
all men, founded and established by the two most
glorious Apostles Peter and Paul.” After giving the
succession of Roman bishops from Linus to Eleutherus,
he glances at Smyrna, presided over by St. John’s
disciple, Polycarp, whose letter to the Philippian Church
shows what he believed, and at Ephesus, founded as
a Church by St. Paul and presided over by St. John,
until the times of Trajan (III. iii. 1–3). Again he
says, that, although there may be different opinions
respecting single passages of Scripture, yet there can
be none as to the sum total of its contents, viz. “that
which the Apostles have deposited in the Church as
the fulness of truth, and which has been preserved in
the Church by the succession of bishops.” And again,
still more definitely, “The Church, though dispersed
throughout the whole world even to the ends of the
earth, has received from the Apostles and their disciples
the belief in one God, Father Almighty, etc.... Having
received this preaching and this belief, the
Church, as we said before, although dispersed about
the whole world, carefully guards it, as if dwelling in
one house; and she believes these things, as if she
had but one soul and one and the same heart, and
with perfect concord she preaches them and teaches
them and hands them down, as if she possessed but
one mouth. For although the languages up and down
the world are different, yet the import of the tradition
is one and the same. For neither the Churches which
are established in Germany believe anything different
or hand down anything different, nor in Spain, nor in
Gaul, nor throughout the East, nor in Egypt, nor in
Libya, nor those established about the central regions
of the earth.... And neither will he who is very
mighty in word among those who preside in the
Churches utter different [doctrines] from these (for no
one is above the Master), nor will he who is weak in
speaking lessen the tradition” (I. x. 1, 2). Clement
of Alexandria (c. A.D. 200) tells us that he had studied
in Greece, Italy, and the East, under teachers from
Ionia, Cœlesyria, Assyria, and Palestine; and he
writes of his teachers thus: “These men, preserving
the true tradition of the blessed teaching directly from
Peter and James, from John and Paul, the holy Apostles,
son receiving it from father (but few are they who are
like their fathers), came by God’s providence even to
us, to deposit among us those seeds which are ancestral
and apostolic” (Strom., I. p. 322, ed. Potter). Tertullian
in like manner appeals to the unbroken tradition, reaching
back to the Apostles, in a variety of Churches:
“Run over the Apostolic Churches, in which the very
chairs of the Apostles still preside in their places, in
which their own authentic writings are read, uttering
the voice and representing the face of each of them;”
and he mentions in particular Corinth, Philippi, Thessalonica,
Ephesus, and Rome. “Is it likely that Churches
of such number and weight should have strayed into
one and the same faith?” (De Præs. Hær., xxviii.,
xxxvi.).
This evidence is quite sufficient to prove that what
St. Paul charged Timothy to do at Ephesus was done
not only there but at all the chief centres of the
Christian Church: viz., that everywhere great care
was taken to provide continuity of authoritative teaching
respecting the articles of the faith. It indicates
also that as a rule the bishop in each place was
regarded as the custodian of the deposit, who was to be
chiefly responsible for its preservation. But the precise
method or methods (for there was probably different
machinery in different places) by which this was
accomplished, cannot now be ascertained. It is not
until near the end of the second century that we begin
to get anything like precise information as to the way
in which Christian instruction was given, whether to
believers or heathen, in one or two of the principal
centres of Christendom; e.g., Alexandria, Cæsarea, and
Jerusalem.
St Paul himself had ruled that a bishop must be
“apt to teach” (1 Tim. iii. 2; comp. Tit. i. 9); and
although we have no reason to suppose that as a rule
the bishop was the only or even the chief instructor,
yet he probably selected the teachers, as Timothy is
directed to do here. In the great Catechetical School
of Alexandria the appointment of what we should now
call the Rector or senior professor was in the hands of
the bishop. And, as we might expect, bishops selected
clergy for this most important office. It forms one of
the many contrasts between primitive Christianity and
heathenism, that Christians did, and pagans did not,
regard it as one of the functions of the priesthood to
give instruction in the traditional faith. The heathen
clergy, if consulted, would give information respecting
the due performance of rites and ceremonies, and the
import of omens and dreams; but of their giving
systematic teaching as to what was to be believed
respecting the gods, there is no trace.
It is more than probable that a great deal of the
instruction both to candidates for baptism and candidates
for the ministry was from very early times
reduced to something like a formula; even before the
dangers of corruption arising from Gnosticism rendered
this necessary, we may believe that it took place. We
know that the Gospel history was in the first instance
taught orally; and the oral instruction very soon fell
into something that approached to a stereotyped form.
This would probably be the case with regard to statements
of the essentials of the Christian faith. In
Ignatius (Philad., viii.), Justin Martyr (Apol., I. 61, 66),
and in Irenæus (Hær., I. x. 1) we can trace what may
well have been formulas in common use. But it is not
until the middle of the fourth century that we get a
complete example of the systematic instruction given
by a Christian teacher, in the Catechetical Lectures of
St. Cyril, Bishop of Jerusalem, delivered, however,
before his episcopate.
But what is certain respecting the earliest ages of the
Church is this; that in every Church regular instruction
in the faith was given by persons in authority specially
selected for this work, and that frequent intercourse
between the Churches showed that the substance of the
instruction given was in all cases the same, whether
the form of words was identical or not. These facts,
which do not by any means stand alone, are conclusive
against the hypothesis, that between the Crucifixion
and the middle of the second century, a complete
revolution in the creed was effected; and that the
traditional belief of Christians is not that which Jesus
of Nazareth taught, but a perversion of it which owes
its origin mainly to the overwhelming influence of His
professed follower, but virtual supplanter, Saul of
Tarsus.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE CHRISTIAN’S LIFE AS MILITARY SERVICE; AS
AN ATHLETIC CONTEST; AS HUSBANDRY.
“Suffer hardships with me, as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No
soldier on service entangleth himself in the affairs of this life; that he
may please him who enrolled him as a soldier. And if also a man
contend in the games, he is not crowned, except he have contended
lawfully. The husbandman that laboureth must be the first to partake
of the fruits. Consider what I say; for the Lord shall give thee
understanding in all things.”—2 Tim. ii. 3–7.
St. Paul represents the Christian life and the
Christian ministry under a variety of figures.
Sometimes as husbandry; as when he tells the
Galatians that “whatsoever a man soweth, that shall
he also reap;” and that “in due season we shall reap,
if we faint not” (Gal. vi. 7, 9); or when he reminds
the Corinthians that “he that ploweth ought to plow
in hope, and he that thresheth, to thresh in hope of
partaking” (1 Cor. ix. 10). Sometimes as an athletic
contest; as when he tells the Corinthians that “every
man who striveth in the games is temperate in all
things” (1 Cor ix. 25); or the Ephesians that “our
wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the
principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers
of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of
wickedness in the heavenly places” (Eph. vi. 12).
Sometimes, and most frequently, as military service;
as when he charges the Thessalonians to “put on the
breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope
of salvation” (1 Thess. v. 8); or when he writes to the
Philippians of Epaphroditus as his “fellow-soldier”
(Phil. ii. 25).
In the passage before us he makes use of all three
figures: but the one of which he seems to have been
most fond is the one which he places first,—that of
military service. “Suffer hardships with me,” or
“take thy share in suffering,” as a good soldier of
Christ Jesus. No soldier on service entangleth himself
in the affairs of this life; that he may please him
who enrolled him as a soldier.” He had used the same
kind of language in the First Epistle, urging Timothy
to “war the good warfare” and to “fight the good
fight of faith” (i. 18; vi. 12). Every Christian, and
especially every Christian minister, may be regarded as
a soldier, as an athlete, as a husbandman; but of the
three similitudes the one which fits him best is that of
a soldier.
Even if this were not so, St. Paul’s fondness for the
metaphor would be very intelligible.
1. Military service was very familiar to him,
especially in his imprisonments. He had been arrested
by soldiers at Jerusalem, escorted by troops to Cæsarea,
sent under the charge of a centurion and a band of
soldiers to Rome, and had been kept there under
military surveillance for many months in the first
Roman imprisonment, and for we know not how long
in the second. And we may assume it as almost
certain that the place of his imprisonment was near the
prætorian camp. This would probably be so ordered
for the convenience of the soldiers who had charge of
him. He therefore had very large opportunities of
observing very closely all the details of ordinary
military life. He must frequently have seen soldiers
under drill, on parade, on guard, on the march; must
have watched them cleaning, mending, and sharpening
their weapons; putting their armour on, putting it off.
Often during hours of enforced inactivity he must have
compared these details with the details of the Christian
life, and noticed how admirably they corresponded with
one another.
2. Military service was not only very familiar to
himself; it was also quite sufficiently familiar to those
whom he addressed. Roman troops were everywhere
to be seen throughout the length and breadth of the
Empire, and nearly every member of society knew
something of the kind of life which a soldier of the
Empire had to lead.
3. The Roman army was the one great organization
of which it was still possible, in that age of boundless
social corruption, to think and speak with right-minded
admiration and respect. No doubt it was often the
instrument of wholesale cruelties as it pushed forward
its conquests, or strengthened its hold, over resisting
or rebelling nations. But it promoted discipline and
esprit de corps. Even during active warfare it checked
individual license; and when the conquest was over
it was the representative and mainstay of order and
justice against high-handed anarchy and wrong. Its
officers several times appear in the narrative portions
of the New Testament, and they make a favourable
impression upon us. If they are fair specimens of the
military men in the Roman Empire at that period, then
the Roman army must have been indeed a fine service.
There is the centurion whose faith excited even Christ’s
admiration; the centurion who confessed Christ’s
righteousness and Divine origin at the crucifixion;
Cornelius, of the Italian cohort, to whom St. Peter was
sent; C. Lysias, the chief captain or tribune who
rescued St. Paul, first from the mob, and then from the
conspiracy to assassinate him; and Julius, who out of
consideration for St. Paul prevented the soldiers from
killing the prisoners in the shipwreck.
But the reasons for the Apostle’s preference for this
similitude go deeper than all this.
4. Military service involves self-sacrifice, endurance,
discipline, vigilance, obedience, ready co-operation with
others, sympathy, enthusiasm, loyalty. Tertullian in
his Address to Martyrs draws with characteristic
incisiveness the stern parallel between the severity of the
soldier’s life and that of the Christian. “Be it so, that
even to Christians a prison is distasteful. We were
called to active service under the Living God from the
very moment of our response to the baptismal formula.
No soldier comes to the war surrounded by luxuries,
nor goes into action from a comfortable bed-room, but
from the make-shift and narrow tent, where every kind
of hardness and severity and unpleasantness is to be
found. Even in peace soldiers learn betimes to suffer
warfare by toil and discomforts, by marching in arms,
running over the drill-ground, working at trench-making,
constructing the tortoise, till the sweat runs
again. In the sweat of the brow all things are done,
lest body and mind should shrink at changes from
shade to sunshine, and from sunshine to frost, from the
dress of ease to the coat of mail, from stillness to
shouting, from quiet to the din of war. In like manner
do ye, O blessed ones, account whatever is hard in
this your lot as discipline of the powers of your mind
and body. Ye are about to enter for the good fight, in
which the Living God gives the prizes, and the Holy
Spirit prepares the combatants, and the crown is the
eternal prize of an angel’s nature, citizenship in heaven,
glory for ever and ever. Therefore your trainer,
Jesus Christ, Who has anointed you with the Spirit and
led you forth to this arena, has seen good to separate
you from a state of freedom for rougher treatment, that
power may be made strong in you. For the athletes
also are set apart for stricter discipline, that they may
have time to build up their strength. They are kept
from luxury, from daintier meats, from too pleasant
drink; they are driven, tormented, distressed. The
harder their labours in training, the greater their hopes
of victory. And they do it, says the Apostle, that
they may obtain a corruptible crown. We, with an
eternal crown to obtain, look upon the prison as our
training-ground, that we may be led to the arena of the
judgment-seat well disciplined by every kind of discomfort:
because virtue is built up by hardness, but
by softness is overthrown” (Ad Mart., iii). It will be
observed that Tertullian passes by an easy transition
from training for military service to training for athletic
contests. The whole passage is little more than a
graphic amplification of what St. Paul writes to
Timothy.
5. But military service implies, what athletic contests
do not, vigilant, unwearying, and organized opposition
to a vigilant, unwearying, and organized foe. In many
athletic contests one’s opponent is a rival rather than
an enemy. He may defeat us; but he inflicts no
injury. He may win the prizes; but he takes nothing
of ours. And even in the more deadly conflicts of the
amphitheatre the enemy is very different from an enemy
in war. The combat is between individuals, not armies;
it is the exception and not the rule; it is strictly
limited in time and place, not for all times and all
places; it is a duel and not a campaign,—still less a
prolonged war. Military service is either perpetual
warfare or perpetual preparation for it. And just such
is the Christian life: it is either a conflict, or a preparation
for one. The soldier, so long as he remains in
the service, can never say, “I may lay aside my arms
and my drill: all enemies are conquered: there will
never be another war.” And the Christian, so long as
he remains in this world, can never think that he may
cease to watch and to pray, because the victory is won,
and he will never be tempted any more. It is for this
reason that he cannot allow himself to be “entangled
in the affairs of this life.” The soldier on service
avoids this error: he knows that it would interfere
with his promotion. The Christian must avoid it at
least as carefully; for he is always on service, and the
loss of promotion is the loss of eternal life.
Observe that St. Paul does not suggest that Christians
should keep aloof from the affairs of this life,
which would be a flat contradiction of what he teaches
elsewhere. The Christian is to “do his own business,
and to work with his hands, that he may walk honestly
toward them that are without, and may have need of
nothing” (1 Thess. iv. 11, 12). He has a duty to perform
“in the affairs of this life,” but in doing it he
is not to be entangled in them. They are means, not
ends; and must be made to help him on, not suffered
to keep him back. If they become entanglements
instead of opportunities, he will soon lose that state of
constant preparation and alertness, which is the indispensable
condition of success.
The same thought is brought out in the second
metaphor by the word “lawfully.” The athlete who
competes in the games does not receive a crown, unless
he has contended lawfully, i.e., according to rule
(νομίμως, νόμος). Even if he seems to be victorious,
he nevertheless is not crowned, because he has violated
the well-known conditions. And what is the rule,
what are the conditions of the Christian’s contest?
“If any man would come after Me, let him deny
himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me.” If we
wish to share Christ’s victory, we must be ready to
share His suffering. No cross, no crown. To try to
withdraw oneself from all hardship and annoyance, to
attempt to avoid all that is painful or disagreeable, is
a violation of the rules of the arena. This, it would
appear, Timothy was in some respects tempted to do:
and timidity and despondency must not be allowed to
get the upper hand. Not that what is painful, or distasteful,
or unpopular, is necessarily right; but it is
certainly not necessarily wrong: and to try to avoid
everything that one dislikes is to ensure being fatally
wrong. So that, as Chrysostom says, “it behoves
thee not to complain, if thou endurest hardness; but to
complain, if thou dost not endure hardness.”
Chrysostom and some modern commentators make
the striving lawfully include not only the observance
of the rules of the contest, but the previous training
and preparation. “What is meant by lawfully? It is
not enough that he is anointed, and even engages,
unless he complies with all the regulations of training
with respect to diet, temperance, and sobriety, and all
the rules of the wrestling-school. Unless, in short,
he go through all that is befitting a wrestler, he is not
crowned.” This makes good sense, if “is not crowned”
be interpreted to mean “is not likely to be first,”
rather than “does not receive the crown, even if he is
first.” A victorious athlete is rightly deprived of the
reward, if he has violated the conditions of the contest:
but no one ever yet heard of a victor being refused the
prize because he had not trained properly. Moreover,
there are enough examples to show that “lawfully”
(νομίμως) does sometimes include the training as well
as the contest.
But this does not seem to be St Paul’s meaning. In
the first similitude he takes no account of the time
which precedes the soldier’s service, during which he
may be supposed to be preparing himself for it. The
Christian’s life and the soldier’s service are regarded as
co-extensive, and there is no thought of any previous
period. So also in the second similitude. The
Christian’s life and the athlete’s contest are regarded
as co-extensive, and no account is taken of anything
that may have preceded. Baptism is entering the lists,
not entering the training-school; and the only rules
under consideration are the rules of the arena.
No doubt there are analogies between the training-school
and Christian discipline, and St. Paul sometimes
makes use of them (1 Cor. ix. 25, 27); but they do
not seem to be included in the present metaphor.
But it is about the third similitude that there has
been most discussion. “The husbandman that
laboureth must be the first to partake of the fruits:”
not, as the A. V., “must be first partaker of the
fruits;” which seems to imply that he must partake
of the fruits before he labours. What is the meaning
of “first”? Some commentators resort to the rather
desperate hypothesis that this word is misplaced, as it
sometimes is in careless writing and conversation: and
they suppose that what St. Paul means is, that “the
husbandman, who labours first, must then partake of
the fruits,” or, more clearly, “the husbandman, who
wishes to partake of the fruits, must first of all labour.”
The margin of the A. V. suggests a similar translation.
But this is to credit the Apostle with great clumsiness
of expression. And even if this transposition of the
“first” could be accepted as probable, there still
remains the fact that we have the present and not the
aorist participle (κοπιῶντα
and not κοπιάσαντα). Had
St. Paul meant what is supposed, he would have said
“The husbandman who has first laboured,” not “who
labours first.” But there is no transposition of the
“first.” The order of the Greek shows that the
emphatic word is “labours.” “It is the labouring
husbandman who must be the first to partake of the
fruits.” It is the man who works hard and with a will,
and not the one who works listlessly or looks despondently
on, who, according to all moral fitness and
the nature of things, ought to have the first share in
the fruits. This interpretation does justice to the
Greek as it stands, without resorting to any manipulation
of the Apostle’s language. Moreover, it brings the
saying into perfect harmony with the context.
It is quite evident that the three metaphors are
parallel to one another and are intended to teach the
same lesson. In each of them we have two things
placed side by side,—a prize and the method to be
observed in obtaining it. Do you, as a Christian
soldier on service, wish for the approbation of Him
who has enrolled you? Then you must avoid the
entanglements which would interfere with your service.
Do you, as a Christian athlete, wish for the crown of
victory? Then you must not evade the rules of the
contest. Do you, as a Christian husbandman, wish to
be among the first to enjoy the harvest? Then you
must be foremost in toil. And the Apostle draws
attention to the importance of the lesson of self-devotion
and endurance, inculcated under these three impressive
figures, by adding, “Consider what I say; for the
Lord shall give thee understanding in all things.”
That is, He has confidence that His disciple will be
enabled to draw the right conclusion from these
metaphors; and having done so, will have grace to
apply it to his own case.
Timothy is not the only Christian, or the only
minister, who is in danger of being disgusted, and
disheartened, and dismayed, by the coldness and
apathy of professing friends, and by the hostility and
contempt of secret or open enemies. We all of us
need at times to be reminded that here we have no
abiding city, but that our citizenship is in heaven.
And we all of us are at times inclined to murmur,
because the rest for which we so often yearn, is not
given us here;—a rest from toil, a rest from temptation,
and a rest from sin. Such a sabbath-rest is the prize
in store for us; but we cannot have it here. And if
we desire to have it hereafter, we must keep the rules
of the arena; and the rules are self-control, self-sacrifice,
and work.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE POWER OF A BELIEF IN THE RESURRECTION
AND THE INCARNATION.—THE GOSPEL OF ST.
PAUL.
“Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, of the seed of David,
according to my gospel: wherein I suffer hardship unto bonds, as a
malefactor; but the word of God is not bound. Therefore I endure
all things for the elects’ sake, that they also may obtain the salvation
which is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory.”—2 Tim. ii. 8–10.
These words are a continuation of the same subject.
They are additional thoughts supplied to the
Apostle’s beloved disciple to induce him to take
courage and to bear willingly and thankfully whatever
difficulties and sufferings the preaching of the gospel in
all its fulness may involve. In the three metaphors
just preceding, St. Paul has indicated that there is
nothing amazing, nothing that ought to cause perplexity
or despondency, in the fact that ministers of the word
have to encounter much opposition and danger. On
the contrary, such things are the very conditions of the
situation; they are the very rules of the course. One
would have to suspect that there was something
seriously amiss, if they did not occur; and without
them there would be no chance of reward. Here he
goes on to point out that this hardship and suffering is
very far from being mere hardship and suffering; it has
its bright side and its compensations, even in this life.
Throughout this section it is well worth while to
notice the very considerable improvements which the
Revisers have made in it. One or two of these have
been already noticed; but for convenience some of the
principal instances are here collected together.
“Suffer hardship with me,” or “Take thy part in
suffering hardship,” is better than “Thou therefore
endure hardship,” which while inserting a spurious
“therefore,” omits the important intimation that the
hardship to which Timothy is invited is one which
others are enduring, and which he is called upon, not
to bear alone, but to share. “No soldier on service”
is better than “No man that warreth,” and “if also a
man contend in the games” is more definite than the
vague “if a man also strive for masteries.” The ambiguity
of “must be first partaker of the fruits” is
avoided in “must be the first to partake of the fruits.”
But perhaps none of these corrections are so important
as those in the passage now before us. “Remember
that Jesus Christ of the seed of David, was raised from
the dead, according to my gospel,” gives quite a wrong
turn to St. Paul’s language. It puts the clauses in the
wrong order, and gives an erroneous impression as to
what is to be remembered. Timothy is charged to
“remember Jesus Christ;” and in remembering Him
he is to think of Him as one Who is “risen from the
dead,” and Who is also “of the seed of David.” These
are central facts of the Gospel which St. Paul has
always preached; they have been his support in all his
sufferings; and they will be the same support to the
disciple as they have been to the master.
“Remember Jesus Christ.” Every Christian, who
has to endure what seem to him to be hardships, will
sooner or later fall back upon this remembrance. He
is not the first, and not the chief sufferer in the world.
There is One Who has undergone hardships, compared
with which those of other men sink into nothingness;
and Who has expressly told those Who wish to be His
disciples, that they must follow Him along the path of
suffering. It is specially in this respect that the
servant is not above his Lord. And just in proportion
as we are true servants will the remembrance of Jesus
Christ help us to welcome what He lays upon us as
proof that He recognizes and accepts our service.
But merely to remember Jesus Christ as a Master
Who has suffered, and Who has made suffering a condition
of service, will not be a permanently sustaining
or comforting thought, if it ends there. Therefore St.
Paul says to his perplexed and desponding delegate,
“Remember Jesus Christ as one risen from the dead.”
Jesus Christ has not only endured every kind of
suffering, including its extreme form, death, but He has
conquered it all by rising again. He is not only the
sinless Sufferer, but also the triumphant Victor over
death and hell. He has set us an example of heroic
endurance in obedience to the will of God; but He has
also secured for us that our endurance in imitation
of Him shall be crowned with victory. Had Christ’s
mission ended on Calvary, He would but have given
to the world a purified form of Stoicism, a refined
“philosophy of suffering;” and His teaching would
have failed, as Stoicism failed, because a mere philosophy
of suffering is quickly proved by experience to
be a “philosophy of despair.” Renan remarks with
truth, that the gospel of Marcus Aurelius fortifies, but
does not console: and all teaching is doomed from the
outset, which comes to a groaning and travailing
humanity without any consolations to bestow. What
is the thought which through long centuries has
wrung, and is still wringing millions of human hearts
with anguish? It is the thought of the existence and
not only the existence but the apparent predominance,
of evil. Everywhere experience seems to teach us that
evil of every kind, physical, intellectual, and moral,
holds the field and appears likely to hold it. To allow
oneself to be mastered by this thought is to be on the
road to doubting God’s moral government of the world.
What is the antidote to it? “Remember Jesus Christ
as one risen from the dead.” When has evil ever
been so completely triumphant over good as when it
succeeded in getting the Prophet of Nazareth nailed
to the tree, like some vile and noxious animal? That
was the hour of success for the malignant Jewish
hierarchy and for the spiritual powers of darkness.
But it was an hour to which very strict limits were
placed. Very soon He Who had been dismissed to the
grave by a cruel and shameful death, defeated and disgraced,
rose again from it triumphant, not only over
Jewish priests and Roman soldiers, but over death and
the cause of death; that is, over every kind of evil—pain,
and ignorance, and sin. It was for that very
purpose that He laid down His life, that He might take
it again: and it was for that reason that His Father
loved Him, because He had received the commandment
to lay it down and take it again from His Father
(John x. 17, 18).
But “to remember Jesus Christ as one risen from
the dead” does more than this. It not only shows us
that the evil against which we have such a weary
struggle in this life, both in others and in ourselves,
is not (in spite of depressing appearances) permanently
triumphant; it also assures us that there is another
and a better life in which the good cause will be
supreme, and supreme without the possibility of disaster,
of even of contest. We talk in a conventional
way of death as the country “from whose bourne no
traveller returns:” but we are wrong. We do not
mean it so; yet this saying, if pressed, would carry
with it a denial of a fact, which is better attested than
any fact in ancient history. One Traveller has returned;
and His return is no extraordinary accident or
exceptional and solitary success. It is a representative
return and a typical success. What the Son of Man
has done, other sons of men can do, and will do. The
solidarity between the human race and the Second
Adam, between the Church and its Head, is such, that
the victory of the Leader carries with it the victory of
the whole band. The breach made in the gates of
death is one through which the whole army of Christ’s
followers may pass out into eternal life, free from
death’s power for evermore. This thought is full of
comfort and encouragement to those who feel themselves
almost overwhelmed by the perplexities, and
contradictions, and sorrows of this life. However
grievous this life may be, it has this merciful condition
attached to it, that it lasts only for a short time; and
then the risen Christ leads us into a life which is free
from all trouble, and which knows no end. The
miseries of this life are lessened by the knowledge that
they cannot last long. The blessedness of the life to
come is perfected by the fact that it is eternal.
Once more, to “remember Jesus Christ as one risen
from the dead,” is to remember One Who claimed to be
the promised Saviour of the world, and Who proved His
claim. By its countless needs, by many centuries of
yearning, by its consciousness of failure and of guilt,
the whole human race had been led to look forward to
the coming of some great Deliverer, Who would rescue
mankind from its hopeless descent down the path of
sin and retribution, as a possibility. By the express
promise of Almighty God, made to the first generation
of mankind, and renewed again and again to patriarchs
and prophets, the chosen people had been taught to
look forward to the coming of a Saviour as a certainty.
And Jesus of Nazareth had claimed to be this longed
for and expected Deliverer, the Desire of all nations
and the Saviour of the world. “I that speak unto thee
am He” (John iv. 26). By His mighty works, and
still more by His life-giving words, He had shown that
He had Divine credentials in support of His claim:
but not until He rose again from the dead was His
claim absolutely proved. It was the proof which He
Himself volunteered. “Destroy this temple and in
three days I will raise it up” (John ii. 19). “There
shall no sign be given but the sign of Jonah the
prophet: for as Jonah was three days and three nights
in the belly of the whale, so shall the Son of man be
three days and three nights in the heart of the earth”
(Matt. xii. 39, 40), and then return again to the light
of day as Jonah did. He had raised others from the
dead; but so had Elijah and Elisha done. That proved
no more than that He was a prophet as mighty as
they. But no one before Jesus had ever raised Himself.
If His Messiahship was doubtful before, all doubt
vanished on Easter morning.
And this leads St. Paul on to the second point which
his downcast disciple is to remember in connexion
with Jesus Christ. He is to remember Him as “of
the seed of David.” He is not only truly God, but
truly man. He was risen from the dead, and yet He
was born of flesh and blood, and born of that royal
line of which Timothy, who “from a babe had known
the sacred writings,” had many times heard and read.
The Resurrection and the Incarnation;—those are the
two facts on which a faltering minister of the Gospel
is to hold fast, in order to comfort his heart and
strengthen his steps.
It is worth noting that St. Paul places the Resurrection
before the Incarnation, a fact which is quite lost
in the transposed order of the A. V. St. Paul’s order,
which at first sight seems to be illogical, was the usual
order of the Apostles’ preaching. They began, not
with the miraculous birth of Christ, but with His
resurrection. They proved by abundant testimony
that Jesus had risen from the dead, and thence argued
that He must have been more than man. They did
not preach His birth of a virgin, and thence argue that
He was Divine. How was His miraculous birth to be
proved, to those who were unwilling to accept His
mother’s word for it? But thousands of people had
seen Him dead upon the Cross, and hundreds had seen
Him alive again afterwards. No matter of fact was
more securely established for all those who cared to
investigate the evidence. With the Resurrection proved,
the foundations of the faith were laid. The Incarnation
followed easily after this, especially when combined
with the descent from David, a fact which helped to
prove His Messiahship. Let Timothy boldly and
patiently preach these great truths in all their grand
simplicity, and they will bring comfort and strength
to him in his distress and difficulty, as they have done
to the Apostle.
This is the meaning of “according to my gospel.”
These are the truths which St. Paul has habitually
preached, and of the value of which he can speak from
full experience. He knows what he is talking about,
when he affirms, that these things are worth remembering
when one is in trouble. The Resurrection and
the Incarnation are facts on which he has ceaselessly
insisted, because in the wear and tear of life he has
found out their worth.
There is no emphasis on the “my,” as the Greek
shows. An enclitic cannot be emphatic. The Apostle
is not contrasting his Gospel with that of other
preachers, as if he would say, “Others may teach
what they please, but this is the substance of my
Gospel.” And Jerome is certainly mistaken, if what is
quoted as a remark of his is rightly assigned to him by
Fabricius, to the effect that whenever St. Paul says
“according to my Gospel” he means the written
Gospel of his companion St. Luke, who had caught
much of his spirit and something of his language. It
would be much nearer the truth to say that St. Paul
never refers to a written Gospel. In every one of the
passages in which the phrase occurs the context is
quite against any such interpretation (Rom. ii. 16;
xvi. 25; cf Tim. 1. i. 11). In this place the words
which follow are conclusive: “Wherein I suffer hardship
unto bonds, as a malefactor.” How could he be
said to suffer hardship unto bonds in the Gospel of
St. Luke?
A word of protest may be added against the strange
and impossible theory that the third Gospel and the
Acts of the Apostles were written by St. Paul himself.
If there is one thing which is certain with regard to
the authorship of the Books of the New Testament,
it is that the Acts was written by a companion of St.
Paul. Even destructive critics who spare little else,
admit this of portions of the Acts; and the Book must
be accepted or rejected as a whole. Moreover, it is
admitted by both defenders and assailants that the
writer of the Acts did not know the Epistle to the
Galatians; and it is highly probable that when he
wrote he had not seen the Epistles to the Romans and
to the Corinthians.It is not credible that a writer who was very familiar with the
incidents and persons mentioned and alluded to in Gal. i. 17; ii.
1–5, 11–14; Rom. xv. 19, 28; xvi. 1–3, 23; 1 Cor. i. 11–16; v.
1; xi. 30; xvi. 15; 2 Cor. ii. 12; vii. 5; xi. 24; xii. 3, 7, 18, should
make no mention of them or reference to them. The silence respecting
Titus would be most extraordinary if the Apostle himself were the
author of the Acts. See Bishop Lightfoot’s article on the Acts in the
new edition of the Dict. of the Bible.
How then can he have been St.
Paul? And why should the Apostle write sometimes
in the third person of what Paul said and did, and
sometimes in the first person of what we did? All this
is quite natural, if the writer is a companion of the
Apostle, who was sometimes with him and sometimes
not; it is most extraordinary if the Apostle himself is
the writer. And of course if the Acts is not by St.
Paul, the third Gospel cannot be; for it is impossible
to assign them to different writers. Moreover, not to
mention other difficulties, it may be doubted whether,
more than two years (Acts xxviii. 30) before the death
of St. Paul, there would have been time for “many” to
“have taken in hand to draw up a narrative concerning
those matters which have been fulfilled among us”
(Luke i. 1), and then for him to have collected material
for the third Gospel and to have written it, and then,
after an interval, for him to have written the Acts.
All the arguments in favour of the Pauline authorship
of the third Gospel and of the Acts are satisfied by the
almost universally accepted view, that these two works
were written by a companion of the Apostle, who was
thoroughly familiar with his modes of thought and
expression.
The preaching of this Gospel of the Resurrection and
the Incarnation had caused the Apostle (as he here tells
us) to suffer much evil, as if he had done much evil,
even to the extent of a grievous imprisonment. He is
bound as a malefactor; but his Gospel “is not bound,”
because it is “the word of God.” He perhaps changes
the expression from “my Gospel” to “the word of
God” in order to indicate why it is that, although
the preacher is in prison, yet his Gospel is free;—because
the word which he preaches is not his own,
but God’s.
“The word of God is not bound.” The Apostle is
imprisoned; but his tongue and his companion’s pen
are free. He can still teach those who come to him;
can still dictate letters for others to Luke and the faithful
few who visit him. He can still, as in his first Roman
imprisonment, see that what has befallen him may
“have fallen out rather unto the progress of the
gospel; so that his bonds became manifest in Christ
throughout the whole praetorian guard, and to all the
rest” (Phil. i. 12, 13). He has been able to influence
those whom, but for his imprisonment, he would
never have had an opportunity of reaching,—Roman
soldiers, and warders, and officials, and all who have to
take cognisance of his trial before the imperial tribunal.
“The word of God is not bound.” While he is in
prison, Timothy, and Titus, and scores of other evangelists
and preachers, are free. Their action is not
hampered because a colleague is shut up. The loss of
him might have a depressing and discouraging effect on
some; but this ought not to be so, and he hopes will
not be so. Those who are left at large ought to labour
all the more energetically and enthusiastically, in
order to supply whatever is lost by the Apostle’s want
of freedom, and in order to convince the world that
this is no contest with a human organization or with
human opinion, but with a Divine word and a Divine
Person.
“The word of God is not bound,” because His
word is the truth, and it is the truth that makes men
free. How can that of which the very essence is
freedom, and of which the attribute is that it confers
freedom, be itself kept in bondage? Truth is freer
than air and more incompressible than water. And
just as men must have air and must have water, and
you cannot keep them long from either; so you cannot
long keep them from the truth or the truth from them.
You may dilute it, or obscure it, or retard it, but you
cannot bury it or shut it up. Laws which are of
Divine origin will surely and irresistibly assert themselves,
and truth and the mind of man will meet.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE NEED OF A SOLEMN CHARGE AGAINST A CONTROVERSIAL
SPIRIT, OF DILIGENCE FREE FROM
SHAME, AND OF A HATRED OF THE PROFANITY
WHICH WRAPS UP ERROR IN THE LANGUAGE OF
TRUTH.
“Of these things put them in remembrance, charging them in the
sight of the Lord, that they strive not about words, to no profit, to
the subverting of them that hear. Give diligence to present thyself
approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed,
handling aright the word of truth. But shun profane babblings: for
they will proceed further in ungodliness, and their word will eat as
doth a gangrene; of whom is Hymenæus and Philetus; men who
concerning the truth have erred, saying that the resurrection is
passed already, and overthrow the faith of some.”—2 Tim. ii. 14–18.
We here enter upon a new section of the Epistle,
which continues down to the end of the
chapter. It consists in the main of directions as to
Timothy’s own behaviour in the responsible post in
which he has been placed. And these are both positive
and negative; he is told what to aim at, and what to
avoid.
As to the meaning of “these things,” of which he
is to put his flock in remembrance, it seems most
natural to refer the expression to the “faithful saying”
with which the previous section closes. He is to
remind others (and thereby strengthen his own courage
and faith), that to die for Christ is to live with Him,
and to suffer for Christ is to reign with Him, while
to deny Him is to involve His denying us; for, however
faithless we may be, He must abide by what He
has promised both of rewards and punishments. The
fact that the Apostle uses the expression “put them
in remembrance,” implying that they already know it,
is some confirmation of the view that the “faithful
saying” is a formula that was often recited in the
congregation; a view which the rhythmical character
of the passage renders somewhat probable.
Having reminded them of what they already know
well, Timothy is to “charge them in the sight of the
Lord, that they strive not about words.” This phrase
“charge them in the sight of the Lord” is worthy
of notice. The Apostle twice uses it in addressing
Timothy himself. “I charge thee in the sight of God,
and Christ Jesus, and the elect angels, that thou
observe these things without prejudice” (1 Tim. v. 21);
and “I charge thee in the sight of God, and of Christ
Jesus, Who shall judge the quick and dead, and by His
appearing and His kingdom; preach the word” (2 Tim.
iv. 1). The word for “charge” (διαμαρτύθεσθαι)
indicates the interposition (διά) of two parties, and
hence comes to mean to “call heaven and earth to
witness;” in other words, to “testify solemnly” or
“adjure;” and from this latter meaning it easily
becomes employed for a solemn charge or exhortation.
In translating, it would be quite legitimate to insert an
adverb to express this: “solemnly charging them in
the sight of God.” In dealing with these pestilent
disputes and perilous opinions Timothy, both for his
own sake and for that of his hearers, is to remember,
and to remind them, in Whose presence he is speaking.
God’s eye is upon both preacher and congregation;
and in pleading the cause of truth and sobriety the
preacher is in fact pleading before the Divine tribunal.
This will make the teacher wary in his words, and
will lead his hearers to listen to them in a spirit of
sobriety.
It has been debated whether St. Paul has in his
mind those “faithful men” to whom Timothy is to
commit the substance of the Apostle’s teaching (ver. 2),
or whether he is not now taking a wider view and
including the whole of the disciple’s flock. It is
impossible to determine this with certainty; and it
is not a question of much moment. One thing is clear;
viz., that the whole section is applicable to ministers
throughout the Church in all ages; and the words
under consideration seem to be well worthy of attention
at the present time, when so many unworthy topics
and so much unworthy language may be heard from
the pulpit. One is inclined to think that if ministers
always remembered that they were speaking “in the
sight of God,” they would sometimes find other things
to say, and other ways of saying them. We talk
glibly enough of another man’s words and opinions,
when he is not present. We may be entirely free
from the smallest wish to misrepresent or exaggerate;
but at the same time we speak with great freedom and
almost without restraint. What a change comes over
us, if, in the midst of our glib recital of his views and
sayings, the man himself enters the room! At once
we begin to measure our words and to speak with
more caution. Our tone becomes less positive, and
we have less confidence that we are justified in making
sweeping statements on the subject. Ought not something
of this circumspection and diffidence to be felt
by those who take the responsibility of telling others
about the mind of God? And if they remembered
constantly that they speak “in the sight of the Lord,”
this attitude of solemn circumspection would become
habitual.
“That they strive not about words.” The spirit of
controversy is a bad thing in itself; but the evil is
intensified when the subject of controversy is a question
of words. Controversy is necessary; but it is a necessary
evil: and that man has need of searchings of heart
who finds that he enjoys it, and sometimes even
provokes it, when it might easily have been avoided.
But a fondness for strife about words is one of the
lowest forms which the malady can take. Principles
are things worth striving about, when opposition to
what we know to be right and true is unavoidable.
But disputatiousness about words is something like
proof that love of self has taken the place of love of
truth. The word-splitter wrangles, not for the sake of
arriving at the truth, but for the sake of a dialectical
victory. He cares little as to what is right or wrong,
so long as he comes off triumphant in the argument.
Hence the Apostle said in the first Epistle, that the
natural fruit of these disputes about words is “envy,
strife, and railings” (vi. 4). They are an exhibition of
dexterity in which the object of the disputants is not
to investigate, but to baffle; not to enlighten, but to
perplex. And here he says that they are worse than
worthless. They tend “to no profit:” on the contrary
they tend “to the subverting of those who listen to
them.” This subversion or overthrow (καταστροφή) is
the exact opposite of what ought to be the result of
Christian discussion, viz., edification or building up
(οἰκοδομή). The audience, instead of being built up in
faith and principle, find themselves bewildered and
lowered. They have a less firm grasp of truth and a
less loyal affection for it. It is as if some beautiful
object, which they were learning to understand and
admire, had been scored all over with marks by those
who had been disputing as to the meaning and relation
of the details. It has been a favourite device of the
heretics and sceptics of all ages to endeavour to provoke
a discussion on points about which they hope to place
an opponent in a difficulty. Their object is not to
settle, but to unsettle; not to clear up doubts but to
create them: and hence we find Bishop Butler in his
Durham Charge recommending his clergy to avoid
religious discussions in general conversation, because
the clever propounder of difficulties will find ready
hearers, while the patient answerer of them will not do
so. To dispute is to place truth at an unnecessary
disadvantage.
“Give diligence to present thyself approved unto
God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed.” In
the previous section St. Paul exhorted Timothy to be
ready to suffer for Christ: here he charges him to
work for Him; and in the language which he uses he
indicates that such work is a serious matter;—“Give
diligence.” The word which he uses (σπουδάζειν) is
one which scarcely occurs in the New Testament except
in the writings of St. Paul. And the corresponding
substantive (σπουδή) is also much more common in
his Epistles than it is elsewhere. It indicates that
ceaseless, serious, earnest zeal, which was one of his
chief characteristics. And certainly if the proposed
standard is to be reached, or even seriously aimed at
abundance of this zeal will be required. For the end
proposed is not the admiration or affection of the
congregation, or of one’s superiors, nor yet success in
influencing and winning souls; but that of presenting
oneself to God in such a way as to secure His approval,
without fear of incurring the reproach of being a
workman who has shirked or scamped his work. The
Apostle’s charge is a most wholesome one: and if it is
acted upon, it secures diligence without fussiness, and
enthusiasm without fanaticism. The being “approved”
(δόκιμος)
implies being tried and proved as precious
metals are proved before they are accepted
(δέχομαι) as
genuine. It is the word used of the “pure gold” with
which Solomon overlaid his ivory throne (2 Chron. ix.
17). In the New Testament it is always used of
persons, and with one exception (James i. 12) it is used
by no one but St. Paul. He uses it of being approved
both of men (Rom. xiv. 18) and of God (2 Cor. x. 18).
The single word which represents “that needeth
not to be ashamed” (ἀνεπαίσχυντος) is a rare formation,
which occurs nowhere else in the New Testament.
Its precise meaning is not quite certain. The more
simple and frequent form (ἀναίσχυντος) means “shameless,”
i.e., one who does not feel shame when he ought
to do so. Such a meaning, if taken literally, would be
utterly unsuitable here. And we then have choice
of two interpretations, either (1) that which is adopted
in both A. V. and R. V., who need not feel shame, because
his work will bear examination, or (2) who does
not feel shame, although his work is of a kind which
the world holds in contempt. The latter is the interpretation
which Chrysostom adopts, and there is much to
be said in its favour. Three times already in this letter
has the Apostle spoken of not being ashamed of the
Gospel. He says “Be not ashamed of the testimony
of our Lord, nor of me His prisoner.” Again, “I suffer
these things; yet I am not ashamed.” And again of
Onesiphorus, “He oft refreshed me, and was not
ashamed of my chain” (i. 8, 12, 16). Does he not,
therefore, mean here also, “Present thyself to God as
a workman who is not ashamed of being in His service
and of doing whatever work may be assigned to him”?
This brings us very close to what would be the natural
meaning of the word, according to the analogy of the
simpler form. “If you are to work for God,” says
Paul, “you must be in a certain sense shameless.
There are some men who set public opinion at defiance,
in order that they may follow their own depraved
desires. The Christian minister must be prepared
sometimes to set public opinion at defiance, in order
that he may follow the commands of God.” The vox
populi, even when taken in its most comprehensive
sense, is anything but an infallible guide. Public
opinion is nearly always against the worst forms of
selfishness, dishonesty, and sensuality; and to set it
at defiance in such matters is to be “shameless” in
the worst sense. But sometimes public opinion is very
decidedly against some of the noblest types of holiness;
and to be “shameless” under such circumstances is a
necessary qualification for doing one’s duty. It is by
no means certain that this is not St. Paul’s meaning.
If we translate, “A workman that feeleth no shame,”
we shall have a phrase that would cover either interpretation.
“Handling aright the word of truth,” or “Rightly
dividing the word of truth.” There is some doubt
here also as to the explanation of the word rendered
“handling aright” or “rightly dividing” (ὀρθοτομεῖν).
Once more we have a word which occurs nowhere
else in New Testament. Its radical meaning is to
“cut aright” or “cut straight,” especially of driving a
straight road through a district, or a straight furrow
across a field. In the LXX. it is twice used of making
straight or directing a person’s path. “In all thy
ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy
paths;” and “The righteousness of the perfect shall
direct his way” (Prov. iii. 6; xi. 5). The idea of
rightness seems to be the dominant one; that of cutting
quite secondary; so that the Revisers are quite
justified in following the example of the Vulgate (recte
tractantem), and translating simply “rightly handling.”
But this right handling may be understood as consisting
in seeing that the word of truth moves in the right
direction and progresses in the congregation by a
legitimate development. The word, therefore, excludes
all fanciful and perilous deviations and evasions,
such as those in which the false teachers indulged, and
all those “strivings about words,” which distract men’s
minds and divert them from the substance of the
Gospel. It may be doubted whether the word contains
any idea of distribution, as that the word of truth is to
be preached according to the capacity of the hearers,—strong
meat to the strong, and milk to those who are
still but babes in the faith. We may feel sure that the
expression has nothing to do with the cutting up of
victims in sacrifices, or with cutting straight to the
heart of a thing, as if the word of truth had a kernel
which must be reached by cleaving it down the middle.
Yet both these explanations have been suggested.
Clement of Alexandria and Eusebius use the substantive
derived from St. Paul’s verb (ὀρθοτομία) in the
sense of orthodoxy; which seems to imply that they
understood the verb in the sense of handling aright
(Strom., VII. xvi.; H. E., IV. iii.).
Once more (1 Tim. vi. 20) the Apostle warns his
disciple against “profane babblings.” He is (according
to St. Paul’s graphic word) to make a circuit in order
to avoid such things, to “give them a wide berth”
(περιίστασο; comp. Tit. iii. 9). These empty profanities,
with their philosophic pretentiousness, had
done much harm already, and would do still more; for
the men who propagate them would certainly go still
greater lengths in impiety; and they must receive no
encouragement. Their teaching is of a kind that will
spread rapidly, and it is deadly in its effects. It “will
eat as doth a gangrene.”
The substitution of “gangrene” for “cancer” is an
improvement, as giving the exact word used in the
original, which expresses the meaning more forcibly
than “cancer.” Cancer is sometimes very slow in its
ravages, and may go on for years without causing
serious harm. Gangrene poisons the whole frame and
quickly becomes fatal. The Apostle foresees that
doctrines, which really ate out the very heart of
Christianity, were likely to become very popular in
Ephesus and would do incalculable mischief. The
nature of these doctrines we gather from what follows.
They are preached by the kind of people (οἵτινες) who
miss their aim as regards the truth. They profess to
be aiming at the truth, but they go very wide of the
mark. For instance, some of them say that it is quite
a mistake to look forward to a resurrection of the body,
or indeed to any resurrection at all. The only real
resurrection has taken place already and cannot be
repeated. It is that intellectual and spiritual process
which is involved in rising from degrading ignorance to
a recognition and acceptance of the truth. What is
commonly called death, viz., the separation of soul and
body, is not really death at all. Death in the true
sense of the word means ignorance of God and of
Divine things; to be buried is to be buried in error.
Consequently the true resurrection is to be reanimated
by the truth and to escape from the sepulchre of
spiritual darkness; and this process is accomplished
once for all in every enlightened soul. We learn from
the writings of Irenaeus (Hær., II. xxxi. 2) and of
Tertullian (De Res. Carn., xix.) that this form of error
was in existence in their day: and Augustine in a letter
to Januarius (lv. iii. 4) shows how such false notions
might have grown out of St. Paul’s own teaching. The
Apostle insisted so frequently upon the fact of our
being dead with Christ and raised together with Him,
that some persons jumped to the conclusion that this
was the whole of the Christian doctrine of the resurrection.
The resurrection of the body was a great
stumbling-block to Greeks and Orientals, with their low
notions of the dignity of the human body; and therefore
any interpretation of the resurrection which got
rid of the difficulty of supposing that in the world to
come also men would have bodies, was welcome. It
was calamity enough to be burdened with a body in
this life: it was appalling to think of such a condition
being continued in eternity. Hence the obnoxious
doctrine was explained away and resolved into allegory
and metaphor.
Of Hymenæus and Philetus nothing further is
known. Hymenæus is probably the same person as is
mentioned in the first Epistle with Alexander, as
having made shipwreck of the faith, and been delivered
unto Satan by the Apostle, to cure him of his blasphemies.
We are told here that much mischief had
been done by such teaching: for a number of persons
had been seduced from the faith. “Some,” in the
English phrase “overthrow the faith of some,” conveys
an impression, which is not contained in the Greek
(τινων), that the number of those who were led astray
was small. The Greek indicates neither a large nor a
small number; but what is told us leads to the conclusion
that the number was not small. It is probably
to this kind of teaching that St. John alludes, when he
writes some twenty or more years later than this, and
says, “Even now there have arisen many antichrists”
(1 John ii. 18). Teaching of this kind was only too
likely to be popular in Ephesus.
It is by no means unknown among ourselves. At
the present time also there is a tendency to retain the
old Christian terms and to deprive them of all Christian
meaning. Not only such words as “miracle,” “Church,”
“catholic,” and “sacrament” are evaporated and etherealized,
until they lose all definite meaning; but even
such fundamental terms as “atonement,” “redemption,”
and “immortality.” Nay it is quite possible to find
even the word “God” used to express a Being which
is neither personal nor conscious. And thus language,
which has been consecrated to the service of religion
for a long series of centuries, is degraded to the
unworthy purpose of insinuating pantheism and
agnosticism. This perversion of well established
phraseology is to be condemned on purely literary
grounds: and on moral grounds it may be stigmatized
as dishonest. If Hymenæus and Philetus wish to
deny the resurrection, let them also surrender the
word which expresses it. They have abundance of
words wherewith to express mental and moral enlightenment.
Let them not so handle a word of truth as to
make it suggest a lie.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE LAST DAYS.—THE BEARING OF THE MENTION
OF JANNES AND JAMBRES ON THE QUESTION OF
INSPIRATION AND THE ERRORS CURRENT IN
EPHESUS.
“But know this, that in the last days grievous times shall come.
For men shall be lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, haughty,
railers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy.... And like
as Jannes and Jambres withstood Moses, so do these also withstand
the truth; men corrupted in mind, reprobate concerning the
faith.”—2 Tim. iii. 1, 2, 8.
In the first chapter the Apostle looks back over
the past; in the second he gives directions about
the present; in the third he looks forward into the
future. These divisions are not observed with rigidity
throughout, but they hold good to a very considerable
extent. Thus in the first division he remembers
Timothy’s affectionate grief at parting, his faith and
that of his family, and the spiritual gift conferred
on him at his ordination. And respecting himself
he remembers his teaching Timothy, his being deserted
by those in Asia, his being ministered to by Onesiphorus.
In the second chapter he charges Timothy to be willing
to suffer hardships with him, and instructs him how
to conduct himself in the manifold difficulties of his
present position. And now he goes on to forewarn
and forearm him against dangers and troubles which
he foresees in the future.
There are several prophecies in the New Testament
similar to the one before us. There is that of St. Paul
to the Ephesian Church some ten years before, just
before his final departure for the bonds and afflictions
which awaited him at Jerusalem. “I know that after
my departing grievous wolves shall enter in among
you, not sparing the flock; and from your own selves
shall men arise, speaking perverse things, to draw
away disciples after them” (Acts xx. 29, 30). The
Epistles to Timothy show that this prediction was
already being fulfilled during the Apostle’s lifetime.
There is, secondly, the prophecy respecting the great
falling away and the revealing of the man of sin,
which is somewhat parallel to the one before us
(2 Thess. ii. 3–7). Thirdly, there is the similar prediction
in the First Epistle to Timothy (iv. 1–3). And
besides these three by St. Paul, there are those contained
in 2 Peter ii. 1, 2 about the rise of false
teachers, and in the First Epistle of St. John
(ii. 18 and iv. 3) about the coming of antichrist. Those
in 2 Thessalonians and 2 Peter should be compared
with the one before us, as containing a mixture of
present and future. This mixture has been made the
basis of a somewhat frivolous objection. It has been
urged that the shifting from future to present and
back again indicates the hand of a writer who is
contemporary with the events which he pretends to
foretell. Sometimes he adopts the form of prophecy
and uses the future tense. But at other times the
influence of facts is too strong for him. He forgets
his assumed part as a prophet, and writes in the
present tense of his own experiences. Such an
objection credits the feigned prophet with a very small
amount of intelligence. Are we seriously to suppose
that any one would be so stupid as to be unable to
sustain his part for half a dozen verses, or less, without
betraying himself? But, in fact, the change of
tense indicates nothing of the kind. It is to be explained
in some cases by the fact that the germs of the
evils predicted were already in existence, in others
by the practice (especially common in prophecy) of
speaking of what is certain to happen as if it were
already a fact. The prophet is often a seer, who sees
as present what is distant or future; and hence he
naturally uses the present tense, even when he predicts.
The meaning of the “last days” is uncertain. The
two most important interpretations are: (1) the whole
time between Christ’s first and second coming, and (2)
the portion immediately before Christ’s second coming.
Probability is greatly in favour of the latter; for the
other makes the expression rather meaningless. If
these evils were to come at all, they must come between
the two Advents; for there is no other time: and in
that case why speak of this period as the “last days”?
It might be reasonable to call them “these last days,”
but not “last days” without such specification. At
the present time it would not be natural to speak of an
event as likely to happen in the last days, when we
meant that it would happen between our own time and
the end of the world. The expression used in 1 Tim.
iv. 1 very probably does mean no more than “in future
times; hereafter” (ἐν ὑστέροις καιροῖς). But here and
in 2 Pet. iii. 3 the meaning rather is “in the last days;
when the Lord is at hand.” It is then that the enemy
will be allowed to put forth all his power, in order to be
more completely overthrown. Then indeed there will
be perilous, critical, grievous times
(καιροὶ χαλεποί).
The Apostle treats it as possible, or even probable,
that Timothy will live to see the troubles which will
mark the eve of Christ’s return. The Apostles shared,
and contributed to produce, the belief that the Lord
would come again soon, within the lifetime of some
who were then alive. Even at the close of a long life
we find the last surviving Apostle pointing out to the
Church that “it is the last hour” (1 John ii. 18),
obviously meaning by that expression, that it is the
time immediately preceding the return of Christ to
judge the world. And some twenty years later we find
Ignatius writing to the Ephesians “These are the last
times (ἔσχατοι καιροι). Henceforth let us be reverent;
let us fear the longsuffering of God, lest it turn into
a judgment against us. For either let us fear the
wrath which is to come, or let us love the grace which
now is” (Eph. xi.). Only by the force of experience
was the mind of the Church cleared so as to see the
Kingdom of Christ in its true perspective. The warning
which Jesus had given, that “of that day or that
hour knoweth no one, not even the angels in heaven,
neither the Son, but the Father,” seems to have been
understood as meaning no more than the declaration
“in an hour that ye think not the Son of man cometh.”
That is, it was understood as a warning against being
found unprepared, and not as a warning against
forming conjectures as to how near Christ’s return
was. Therefore we need not be at all surprised at St.
Paul writing to Timothy in a way which implies that
Timothy will probably live to see the evils which will
immediately precede Christ’s return, and must be on
his guard against being amazed or overwhelmed by
them. He is to “turn away from” the intense wickedness
which will then be manifested, and go on undismayed
with his own work.
“Like as Jannes and Jambres withstood Moses, so
do these also withstand the truth.” The Apostle is
obviously referring to the Egyptian magicians mentioned
in Exodus. But in the Pentateuch neither their number
nor their names are given; so that we must suppose
that St. Paul is referring to some Jewish tradition
on the subject. The number two was very possibly
suggested by the number of their opponents:—Moses
and Aaron on one side, and two magicians on the other.
And on each side it is a pair of brothers; for the
Targum of Jonathan represents the magicians as sons
of Balaam, formerly instructors of Moses, but afterwards
his enemies. The names vary in Jewish
tradition. Jannes is sometimes Johannes, and Jambres
is sometimes either Mambres or Ambrosius. The
tradition respecting them was apparently widely
spread. It was known to Numenius, a Platonic
philosopher of Apameia in Syria, who is mentioned
by Clement of Alexandria (Strom., I. xxii.), and quoted
by Origen and Eusebius as giving an account of Jannes
and Jambres (Con. Cels., IV. li.; Præp. Evang., IX.
viii.). In Africa we find some knowledge of the
tradition exhibited by Appuleius, the famous author of
the Golden Ass, who like Numenius flourished in the
second century. And in the previous century another
Latin writer, Pliny the Elder, shows a similar knowledge.
Both of them mention Jannes as a magician
in connexion with Moses, who is also in their eyes
a magician; but Pliny appears to think that both
Moses and Jannes were Jews.Est et alia Magices factio a Moyse, et Janne, et Jotape Judæis
pendens (Plin. Hist. Nat., XXX. ii.).
Si quamlibet emolumentum probaveritis, ego ille sim Carinondas,
vel Damigeron, vel is Moses, vel Jannes [al. l. Johannes], vel Apollonius,
vel ipse Dardanus, vel quieunque post Zoroastren et Hostanen
inter Magos celebratus est (Appul., Apologia, 544, p. 580 ed.
Oudendorp).
It is highly improbable
that any of these writers derived their knowledge
of these names from the passage before us; in
the case of Pliny this would scarcely have been possible.
His Natural History was published about A.D. 77, and
at that time the Second Epistle to Timothy must have
been known to but few, even among Christians. The
author of the apocryphal Gospel of Nicodemus very
possibly did derive his knowledge of the names from
St. Paul; yet he may have had independent sources of
information. He represents Nicodemus as pleading
before Pilate that Jannes and Jambres worked miracles
before Pharaoh; “but because they were not from
God, what they did was destroyed.” Whereas “Jesus
raised up Lazarus, and he is alive” (chap. v.).
One of the ablest of English commentators on these
Epistles remarks upon this passage, “It is probable
that the Apostle derived these names from a current
and (being quoted by him) true tradition of the Jewish
Church.” And in a similar spirit a writer in the
Dictionary of the Bible thinks that it would be “inconsistent
with the character of an inspired record for a
baseless or incorrect current tradition to be cited.”
Let us look at the phenomena of the case and see
whether the number and the names appear to be
trustworthy or otherwise, and then consider the question
of inspiration. To drag in the latter question in
order to determine the former, is to begin at the wrong
end.
That there should be a pair of brothers to oppose
a pair of brothers, has been pointed out already as a
suspicious circumstance. The jingling pairing of the
names is also more like fiction than fact. Thirdly, the
names appear to be in formation, not Egyptian, but
Hebrew; which would naturally be the case if Jews
invented them, but would be extraordinary if they
were genuine names of Egyptians. Lastly, Jannes
might come from a Hebrew root which means “to
seduce,” and Jambres from one which means “to
rebel.” If Jews were to invent names for the Egyptian
magicians, what names would they be more likely to
fasten on them than such as would suggest seductive
error and rebellious opposition? And is it probable
that a really trustworthy tradition, on such an unimportant
fact as the names of the enchanters who
opposed Moses, would have survived through so
many centuries? Sober and unbiassed critics will
for the most part admit that the probabilities are very
decidedly against the supposition that these names are
true names, preserved from oblivion by some written
or unwritten tradition outside Scripture.
But is it consistent with the character of an inspired
writer to quote an incorrect tradition? Only
those who hold somewhat narrow and rigid theories
of inspiration will hesitate to answer this question in
the affirmative. No one believes that inspired persons
are in possession of all knowledge on all subjects. And
if these names were commonly accepted as authentic
by the Jews of St. Paul’s day, would his inspiration
necessarily keep him from sharing that belief? Even
if he were well aware that the tradition respecting the
names was untrustworthy, there would be nothing
surprising in his speaking of the magicians under their
commonly accepted names, when addressing one to
whom the tradition would be well known. And if (as
is more probable) he believed the names to be genuine,
there is still less to surprise us in his making use of
them to add vivacity to the comparison. Nothing in
God’s dealings with mankind warrants us in believing
that He would grant a special revelation to an Apostle,
in order to preserve him from so harmless a proceeding
as illustrating an argument by citing the incorrect
details which tradition had added to historical facts.
And it is worth noting that nothing is based upon the
names; they occur in what is mere illustration. And
even in the illustration it is not the names that have
point, but the persons, who are supposed to have borne
them; and the persons are real, although the names
are probably fictitious. Still less are we warranted in
believing, as Chrysostom suggests, that St. Paul by inspiration
had supernatural knowledge of the names.
As we have seen, the names were known even to
Gentiles who cannot well have derived their knowledge
from him; and why should he have received a revelation
about a trifle which in no way helps his argument?
Such views of inspiration, although the product of a
reverential spirit, degrade rather than exalt our conceptions
of it. The main point of the comparison between
the two cases appears to be opposition to the truth.
But there is perhaps more in it than that. The
magicians withstood Moses by professing to do the
same wonders that he did; and the heretics withstood
Timothy by professing to preach the same gospel as
he did. This was frequently the line taken by heretical
teachers; to disclaim all intention of teaching
anything new, and to profess substantial, if not
complete, agreement with those whom they opposed.
They affirmed that their teaching was only the old
truth looked at from another point of view. They used
the same phraseology as Apostles had used: they merely
gave it a more comprehensive (or, as would now be
said, a more catholic) meaning. In this way the unwary
were more easily seduced, and the suspicions of the
simple were less easily aroused. But such persons
betray themselves before long. Their mind is found
to be tainted; and when they are put to the proof
respecting the faith, they cannot stand the test
(ἀδόκιμοι).
There is nothing improbable in the supposition that
St. Paul mentions the magicians who withstood Moses
as typical opponents of the truth, because the false
teachers at Ephesus used magic arts; and the word
which he uses for impostors (γόητες) in ver. 13 fits in
very well with such a supposition, although it by no
means makes it certain. Ephesus was famous for its
charms and incantations (Ἐφέσια γράμματα), and
around the statue of its goddess Artemis were unintelligible
inscriptions, to which a strange efficacy was
ascribed. The first body of Christians in Ephesus had
been tainted by senseless wickedness of this kind.
After accepting Christianity they had secretly retained
their magic. The sons of the Jew Sceva had tried to
use the sacred name of Jesus as a magical form of
exorcism; and this brought about the crisis in which
numbers of costly books of incantations were publicly
burned (Acts xix. 13–20). The evil would be pretty
sure to break out again, especially among new converts;
just as it does among negro converts at the present day.
Moreover we know that in some cases there was a very
close connexion between some forms of heresy and
magic: so that the suggestion that St. Paul has pretensions
to miraculous power in his mind, when he
compares the false teachers to the Egyptian magicians,
is by no means improbable.
The connexion between heresy and superstition is a
very real and a very close one. The rejection or
surrender of religious truth is frequently accompanied
by the acceptance of irrational beliefs. People deny
miracles and believe in spiritualism; they cavil at the
efficacy of sacraments and accept as credible the
amazing properties of an ‘astral body.’ There is such
a thing as the nemesis of unbelief. The arrogance
which rejects as repugnant to reason and morality
truths which have throughout long centuries satisfied
the highest intellects and the noblest hearts, is sometimes
punished by being seduced into delusions which
satisfy nothing higher than a grovelling curiosity.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE PERILS OF RATIONALISM AND THE RESPONSIBILITIES
OF A LIFELONG CONTACT WITH TRUTH.—THE
PROPERTIES OF INSPIRED WRITINGS.
“But abide thou in the things which thou hast learned and hast
been assured of, knowing of whom thou hast learned them; and that
from a babe thou hast known the sacred writings, which are able to
make thee wise unto salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.
Every scripture inspired of God is also profitable for teaching, for
reproof, for correction, for instruction which is in righteousness:
that the man of God may be complete, furnished completely unto
every good work.”—2 Tim. iii. 14–17.
For the second time in this paragraph the Apostle
puts his faithful disciple in marked contrast to the
heretical teachers. A few lines before, after comparing
the latter to the Egyptian magicians, he continues,
“But thou (σὺ δέ) didst follow my teaching.” And in
the passage before us, after saying that “evil men and
impostors shall wax worse and worse,” he continues,
“But abide thou (σὺ δὲ μένε) in the things which thou
hast learned.” Here there is a double contrast; first
between Timothy and the impostors, and secondly
between his abiding in the truth and their going away
from it, and so from bad to worse, first as deceivers
and then as being deceived. They begin by being
seducers and end in being dupes, and the dupes (very
often) of their own deceptions; for deceit commonly leads
to self-deceit. Such a result may well act as a warning
to Timothy and those committed to his charge of the
peril of trifling with the fundamentals of religious truth.
The articles of the Christian faith are not like the
commodities in a bazaar from which one can pick and
choose at pleasure, and of which one can take three or
four without in any way affecting one’s relation to the
remainder, or reject three or four, without in any way
affecting the security of one’s hold upon those which one
decides to take. With regard to the truths of religion,
our right to pick and choose has very strict limits.
When the system as a whole has presented its credentials
to the reason and the conscience, and these have
decided that the bearer of such credentials must be the
representative of a Divine Being, then the attempt to
pick and choose among the details of the system
becomes perilous work. To reject this or that item,
as being mere fringe and setting rather than a constituent
element, or as being at any rate unessential, may
be to endanger the whole structure. We may be
leaving an impregnable position for an exposed and
untenable one, or be exchanging a secure platform for
an inclined plane, on which we shall find no lasting
resting place until the bottom is reached. And this
was what the men, against whom Timothy is warned,
had done. They had left the sure position, and were
sometimes sliding, sometimes running, further and
further away from the truth.
In other words, there is a right and a wrong use of
reason in matters of faith. The wrong use is sometimes
spoken of as “Rationalism,” and (adopting that
term as convenient) the following clear statement,
borrowed from another writer, will show in a striking
way where it was that St. Paul wished Timothy to
part company with the principles of his opponents.
“As regards Revealed Truth,” wrote J. H. Newman in
1835, “it is not Rationalism to set about to ascertain,
by the exercise of reason, what things are attainable by
reason, and what are not; nor, in the absence of an
express Revelation, to inquire into the truths of
Religion, as they come to us by nature; nor to determine
what proofs are necessary for the acceptance of a
Revelation, if it be given; nor to reject a Revelation on
the plea of insufficient proof; nor, after recognising it
as Divine, to investigate the meaning of its declarations,
and to interpret its language; nor to use its doctrines,
as far as they can be fairly used, in inquiring into its
divinity; nor to compare and connect them with our
previous knowledge, with a view of making them parts
of a whole; nor to bring them into dependence on each
other, to trace their mutual relations, and to pursue
them to their legitimate issues. This is not Rationalism.
But it is Rationalism to accept the Revelation,
and then to explain it away; to speak of it as the Word
of God, and to treat it as the word of man; to refuse
to let it speak for itself; to claim to be told the why and
the how of God’s dealings with us, as therein described,
and to assign to Him a motive and a scope of our own;
to stumble at the partial knowledge which He may give
us of them; to put aside what is obscure, as if it had
not been said at all; to accept one half of what has been
told us, and not the other half; to assume that the
contents of Revelation are also its proof; to frame some
gratuitous hypothesis about them, and then to garble,
gloss, and colour them, to trim, clip, pare away and
twist them, in order to bring them into conformity with
the idea to which we have subjected
them.”“Rationalism in Religion,” in Tracts for the Times, republished
in Essays Critical and Historical, vol. i. p. 32.
Timothy is to abide in those things which he has
“learned and been assured of.” He has experienced
the result which St. Luke wished to produce in Theophilus
when he wrote his Gospel: he has attained to
“full knowledge of the certainty concerning the things
wherein he had been instructed” (Luke i. 4). And he
is not to allow the wild teaching of his opponents,
thoroughly discredited as it is and will be by equally
wild conduct, to shake his security. Not everything
that is disputed is disputable, nor everything that
is doubted doubtful. And if the fruits of the two kinds
of teaching do not fully convince him of the necessity
of abiding by the old truths rather than by the suggestions
of these innovators, let him remember those from
whom he first learnt the truths of the Gospel,—his
grandmother Lois, his mother Eunice, and the Apostle
himself. When it comes to a question of the authority
of the teachers, which group will he choose? Those who
established him in the faith, or those who are trying to
seduce men away from it?
There is a little doubt about the word “of whom
thou hast learned them.” The “whom” is probably
plural (παρὰ τίνων); but a reading which makes it
singular (παρὰ τίνος) is strongly supported. The
plural must include all Timothy’s chief instructors in
the faith, especially the earliest, as is clear from the
nature of the case and from what follows. If the
singular is adopted, we must refer it to St. Paul, in
accordance with “the things which thou hast heard
from me ... the same commit thou to faithful men”
(ii. 2). It is possible that the words just quoted have
influenced the reading in the passage under consideration,
and have caused the substitution of the singular
for the plural.
But there is a further consideration. There is not
only the character of the doctrine on each side, and the
fruits of the doctrine on each side, and the teachers of
whom Timothy has had personal experience, and about
whose knowledge and trustworthiness he can judge;
there is also the fact that from his tenderest infancy he
has had the blessing of being in contact with the truth,
first as it is revealed in the Old Testament, and then
as it is still further revealed in the Gospel. The responsibilities
of those who from their earliest days
have been allowed to grow in the knowledge of God
and of His government of the world, are far greater
than the responsibilities of those who have had no
opportunity of acquiring this knowledge until late in
life. Old habits of thought and conduct are not extinguished
by baptism; and the false opinion and
vicious behaviour of many of those who are vexing, or
will hereafter vex, the Church in Ephesus, may be
traced to influences which had become dominant in them
long before they came into contact with God’s revealed
law. No such allowance can be made for Timothy.
He has had the inestimable privilege of knowing the
sacred writings from his earliest childhood. It will be
his own fault if they do not “make him wise unto
salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.”
The expression “sacred writings”
(ἱερὰ γράμματα)
occurs nowhere else in the New Testament. The
usual expression is “the scriptures”
(αἱ γραφαί); and
once (Rom. i. 2) we have “holy scriptures”
(γραφαὶ ἅγιαι).
Here both substantive and adjective are
unusual. The adjective occurs in only one other
passage in the New Testament, a passage which throws
light upon this one. “Know ye not that they who
perform the sacred rites, from the sacred place get
their food?” (Speaker’s Commentary, on 1 Cor. ix. 13.)
And just as in that passage “the sacred rites” are
the Jewish sacrifices, and “the sacred place” the
Jewish Temple, so here “the sacred writings” are the
Jewish Scriptures. It is utterly improbable that any
Christian writings are included. How could Timothy
have known any of these from infancy? Even at the
time when St. Paul wrote this farewell letter, there
was little Christian literature, excepting his own Epistles;
and he was not likely to speak of them as “sacred
writings,” or to include them under one expression with
the Old Testament Scriptures. The suggestion that
Christian writings are included, or are mainly intended,
seems to be made with the intention of insinuating that
this letter cannot have been written by the Apostle, but
by some one of a later age. But would even a writer
of the second century have made such a blunder as to
represent Timothy as knowing Christian literature from
his childhood?
With the use of the substantive “writings” (γράμματα)
in this passage, should be compared the use of the
same word in Christ’s discourse at Jerusalem after the
miracle at the pool of Bethesda, where he shows the
Jews how hopeless their unbelief is, and how vain their
appeal to Moses, who is really their accuser. “But if
ye believe not his writings (γράμματα), how shall ye
believe My words?” The Jews had had two opportunities
of knowing and accepting the truth; the writings
of Moses, and the words of Jesus. So also Timothy
had had two sets of instructors; the holy women who
had brought him up, whose work had been completed
by the Apostle, and the sacred writings. If the
authority of the former should seem to be open to
question, there could be no doubt of the sufficiency of
the latter. They “are able to make him wise unto
salvation through faith which is in Christ Jesus.”
It must be observed that the Apostle uses the present
tense and not the past (δυνάμενα) in expressing the
power of the sacred writings in communicating a saving
wisdom to him who uses them aright. This power
was not exhausted when the young Timothy was
brought to the ampler truths of the Gospel. However
far advanced he may be in sacred knowledge, he will
still find that they are able to make him increase in the
wisdom which enlightens and saves souls.
But Scripture confers this life-giving wisdom in no
mechanical manner. It is not a charm, which has a
magical effect upon every one who reads it. The most
diligent study of the sacred writings will do nothing
for the salvation of a man who does not prosecute his
researches in something more than the mere spirit of
curious enquiry. Therefore St. Paul adds, “through
faith which is in Christ Jesus.” It is when this is
added to the soul of the enquirer that the sacred
writings of the Old Covenant have their illuminating
power; without it, so far from leading to the salvation
won for us by Christ, they may keep those who study
them away from the truth, as in the case of the Jews
to this day. The pillar of fire becomes a pillar of
cloud, and what should have been for wealth becomes
an occasion of falling.
“Every scripture inspired of God is also profitable
for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for instruction
which is in righteousness.” This is the Revisers’
rendering. Besides one or two smaller changes, they
have made two important alterations of the A. V.
(1) They have substituted “every scripture” for
“all scripture,” without allowing the old rendering
even a place in the margin. (2) They have inserted
the “is” (which must be supplied somewhere in the
sentence) after instead of before “inspired by God;”
thus making “inspired by God” an epithet of Scripture
and not something stated respecting it. “Every scripture
inspired by God is also profitable,” instead of “is
inspired of God and profitable:” but they allow the
latter rendering a place in the margin.
This treatment of the passage appears to be very
satisfactory, so far as the second of these two points
are concerned. Certainty is not attainable in either.
Yet, as regards the second, the probabilities are greatly
in favour of the Apostle’s meaning that “inspired
scripture is also profitable,” rather than “scripture is
inspired and profitable.” But, with regard to the first
point, it may be doubted whether the balance is so
decidedly against the translation “all scripture” as to
warrant its exclusion. No doubt the absence of the
article in the Greek (πᾶσα γραφή,
and not πᾶσα ἡ γραφή)
is against the old rendering; but it is by no means conclusive,
as other instances both in the New Testament
and in classical Greek prove.See the quotations given in Alford’s note on πᾶσα οἰκοδομὴ in
Eph. ii. 21, which might be increased, if necessary: e.g. πᾶν σῶμα,
in Arist., Nic. Eth., I. xiii. 7, which must = “the whole body.”
Nevertheless, there is
the further fact that in the New Testament “the scripture”
generally means a particular passage of Scripture
(Mark xii. 10; Luke iv. 21; John xix. 24, 28, 36, 37;
Acts viii. 32, 35). When Scripture as a whole is
meant, the word, is commonly used in the plural, “the
scriptures” (Matt. xxi. 42; Mark xii. 24; John v. 39).
In the passage before us the meaning is not seriously
affected by the change. It matters little whether we
say “the whole of scripture,” or “every passage of
scripture.”
“Every scripture inspired by God is also profitable
for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for discipline
(παιδεία) which is in righteousness:” i.e., is of use
both for doctrinal and for practical purposes, for informing
both faith and conduct. It is because it is
“inspired by God,” because God’s Spirit breathes
through the whole of it, making every passage of it to
be a portion of a living whole, that Scripture possesses
this unique utility. And if the Apostle can say this of
the Old Testament, much more may we affirm it of the
New Testament. From the two together, everything
that a Christian ought to believe, everything that a
Christian ought to do, may be learned.
But while this declaration of the Apostle assures
us that there is no passage in Holy Writ, which,
when properly handled, does not yield Divine instruction
for the guidance of our minds, and hearts, and
wills, yet it gives no encouragement to hard and fast
theories as to the manner in which the Spirit of God
operated upon the authors of the sacred writings.
Inspiration is no mechanical process. It is altogether
misleading to speak of it as Divine dictation, which
would reduce inspired writers to mere machines.
There are certain things which it clearly does not
do.
1. While it governs the substance of what is written,
it does not govern the language word by word. We
have no reasons for believing in verbal inspiration, and
have many reasons for not believing in it. For no one
believes that copyists and printers are miraculously
preserved from making verbal mistakes. Is it, then,
reasonable to suppose that God would work a miracle
to produce what He takes no care to preserve. Of the
countless various readings, which are the words which
are inspired?
2. Inspiration does not preserve the inspired writers
from every kind of mistake. That it guards them from
error in respect to matters of faith and morality, we
may well believe; but whether it does more than this
remains to be proved. On the other hand it can be
proved that it does not preserve them from mistakes in
grammar; for there is plenty of unquestionably bad
grammar in the Bible. Look for instance at the Greek
of Mark vi. 8, 9; Acts xv. 22; xix. 34; Eph. iv. 2;
Col. iii. 16; Rev. vii. 9; etc., etc. And it may be
doubted whether inspiration preserves the inspired
writer from all possibility of error as regards matters
of fact, as to whether there were two men healed or
only one; as to whether the healing took place as
Christ entered the city or as He left it; as to whether
the prophecy quoted comes from Jeremiah or Zechariah,
and the like. Can there be any reasonable doubt that
St. Matthew has made a slip in writing “Zechariah
the son of Barachiah” instead of “Zechariah the son
of Jehoiada”? And is there any honest method of
bringing St. Stephen’s speech into complete harmony
with statements in the Old Testament respecting all
the facts mentioned? Must we not suppose that there
is error on one side or the other? If, as is quite
certain, inspiration does not make a man a grammatical
scholar, or give him a perfect literary style, ought we
to conclude that it will make him a faultless historian
or chronologer? A Divine Revelation through a series
of inspired writers has been granted in order to save
our souls. We have no right to assume that it has
been granted in order to save us trouble. Those
saving truths about God and our relations to Him,
which we could never have discovered without a revelation,
we may expect to find set forth without taint of
error in the sacred writings. But facts of geology, or
history, or physiology, which our own intelligence and
industry can discover, we ought not to expect to find
accurately set forth for us in the Bible: and we ought
to require very full evidence before deciding that in such
matters inspired writers may be regarded as infallible.
St. Luke tells us in the Preface to his Gospel that he
took great pains to obtain the best information. Need
he have done so, if inspiration protected him from all
possibility of mistake?
3. Inspiration does not override and overwhelm the
inspired writer’s personal characteristics. There appears
to be no such thing as an inspired style. The style of
St. John is as different from that of St. Paul as the
style of Bishop Butler is from that of Jeremy Taylor.
Each inspired writer uses the language, and the illustrations,
and the arguments that are natural and
familiar to him. If he has an argumentative mind, he
argues his points; if he has not, he states them without
argument. If he has literary skill, he exhibits it; if he
has none, inspiration does not give it to him. “No
inspiration theory can stand for a moment which does
not leave room for the personal agency and individual
peculiarities of the sacred authors and the exercise
of their natural faculties in writing” (Schaff, Apostolic
Christianity, p. 608).
What inspiration has not done in these various
particulars is manifest to every one who studies the
sacred writings. What it has done is scarcely less
manifest, and is certainly much more generally recognized.
It has produced writings which are absolutely
without a parallel in the literature of the world. Even
as regards literary merits they have few rivals. But
it is not in their literary beauty that their unique
character consists. It lies rather in their lofty spirituality;
their inexhaustible capacities for instruction and
consolation; their boundless adaptability to all ages
and circumstances; above all, in their ceaseless power
of satisfying the noblest cravings and aspirations of the
human heart. Other writings are profitable for knowledge,
for advancement, for amusement, for delight, for
wealth. But these “make wise unto salvation.” They
produce that discipline which has its sphere in righteousness.
They have power to instruct the ignorant,
to convict the guilty, to reclaim the fallen, to school all
in holiness; that all may be complete as men of God,
“furnished completely unto every good work.”
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE PARADOXICAL EXULTATION OF THE APOSTLE.—HIS
APPARENT FAILURE AND THE APPARENT
FAILURE OF THE CHURCH.—THE GREAT TEST
OF SINCERITY.
“But be thou sober in all things, suffer hardship, do the work of
an evangelist, fulfil thy ministry. For I am already being offered,
and the time of my departure is come. I have fought the good fight,
I have finished the course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is
laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the
righteous judge, shall give to me at that day: and not only to me, but
also to all them that have loved His appearing.”—2 Tim. iv. 5–8.
St. Chrysostom tells us that this passage was
for a long time a source of perplexity to him.
“Often,” he says, “when I have taken the Apostle
into my hands and have considered this passage, I
have been at a loss to understand why Paul here speaks
so loftily: I have fought the good fight. But now by
the grace of God I seem to have found it out. For
what purpose then does he speak thus? He writes to
console the despondency of his disciple; and he therefore
bids him be of good cheer, since he was going to
his crown, having finished all his work and obtained a
glorious end. Thou oughtest to rejoice, he says; not
to grieve. And why? Because I have fought the good
fight. Just as a son, who was sitting bewailing his
orphan state, might be consoled by his father saying to
him, Weep not, my son. We have lived a good life;
we have reached old age; and now we are leaving
thee. Our life has been free from reproach; we are
departing with glory; and thou mayest be held in
honour for what we have done.... And this he says
not boastfully;—God forbid;—but in order to raise up
his dejected son, and to encourage him by his praises
to bear firmly what had come to pass, to entertain good
hopes, and not to think it a matter grievous to be
borne.”
Chrysostom’s explanation is no doubt part of the
reason why the Apostle here speaks in so exalted a
key. This unusual strain is partly the result of a wish
to cheer his beloved disciple and assure him that there
is no need to grieve for the death which now cannot be
very far off. When it comes, it will be a glorious
death and a happy one. A glorious death, for it will
crown with the crown of victory struggles in a weary
contest which is now ending triumphantly. And a
happy death; for Paul has for years had the longing “to
depart and be with Christ, which is far better.” The
crown is one which will not wither; for it is not made of
olive, bay, or laurel. And it is not one of which the
glory is doubtful, or dependent upon the fickle opinions
of a prejudiced crowd; for it is not awarded by a
human umpire, nor amid the applauses of human
spectators. The Giver is Christ, and the theatre is
filled with angels. In the contests of this world men
labour many days and suffer hardships; and for one
hour they receive the crown. And forthwith all the
pleasure of it passes away. In the good fight which
St. Paul fought a crown of righteousness is won, which
continues for ever in brightness and glory.
But besides wishing to console Timothy for the bereavement
which was impending, St. Paul also wished
to encourage him, to stimulate him to greater exertion
and to a larger measure of courage. “Be thou sober in
all things, suffer hardship, do the work of an Evangelist,
fulfil thy ministry. For I am already being poured out
as a drink-offering, and the time of my departure is at
hand.” That is: You must be more vigorous, more
enduring, more devoted; for I am going away, and
must leave you to carry on to perfection that which I
have begun. My fighting is over; therefore do you
fight more bravely. My course is finished; therefore
do you run more perseveringly. The faith entrusted
to me has been preserved thus far inviolate: see to it,
that what has been entrusted to you be kept safe. The
crown which righteousness wins is waiting now for
me: so strive that such a crown may await you also.
For this is a contest in which all may have crowns, if
only they will live so as to feel a longing for the appearing
of the righteous Judge who gives them.
But there is more in this passage than the desire to
comfort Timothy for the approaching loss of his friend
and instructor, and the desire to spur him on to
greater usefulness, not merely in spite of, but because
of, that loss. There is also the ecstatic joy of the
great Apostle, as with the eye of faith he looks back
over the work which he has been enabled to perform,
and balances the cost of it against the great reward.
As has been already pointed out in an earlier
passage, there is nothing in this touching letter which
is more convincingly like St. Paul than the way in
which conflicting emotions succeed one another and
come to the surface in perfectly natural expression.
Sometimes it is anxiety that is uppermost; sometimes
it is confidence. Here he is overflowing with affection;
there he is stern and indignant. One while he is
deeply depressed; and then again becomes triumphant
and exulting. Like the second Epistle to the Corinthians
this last letter to the beloved disciple is full of
intense personal feelings, of a different and apparently
discordant character. The passage before us is charged
with such emotions, beginning with solemn warning and
ending in lofty exultation. But it is the warning, not
of fear, but of affection; and it is the exultation, not of
sight, but of faith.
Looked at with human eyes the Apostle’s life at that
moment was a failure,—a tragic and dismal failure.
In his own simple but most pregnant language, he had
been “the slave of Jesus Christ.” No Roman slave,
driven by whip and goad, could have been made to
work as Paul had worked. He had taxed his fragile
body and sensitive spirit to the utmost, and had
encountered lifelong opposition, derision, and persecution,
at the hands of those who ought to have been his
friends, and had been his friends until he entered the
service of Jesus Christ. He had preached and argued,
had entreated and rebuked, and in doing so had rung
the changes on all the chief forms of human suffering.
And what had been the outcome of it all? The few
Churches which he had founded were but as handfuls
in the cities in which he had established them; and
there were countless cities in which he had established
nothing. Even the few Churches which he had
succeeded in founding had in most cases soon fallen
away from their first faith and enthusiasm. The
Thessalonians had become tainted with idleness and
disorder, the Corinthians with contentiousness and
sensuality, the Galatians, Colossians, and Ephesians
with various forms of heresy; while the Roman Church,
in the midst of which he was suffering an imprisonment
which would almost certainly end in death, was treating
him with coldness and neglect. At his first defence
no one took his part, but all forsook him; and in his
extremity he was almost deserted. As the results of
a life of intense energy and self-devotion, all these
things had the appearance of total failure.
And certainly if the work of his life seemed to have
been a failure with regard to others, it did not bear
any resemblance to success as regards himself. From
the world’s point of view he had given up much, and
gained little, beyond trouble and disgrace. He had
given up a distinguished position in the Jewish Church,
in order to become the best hated man among that
people of passionate hatreds. While his efforts on
behalf of the Gentiles had ended for a third time in
confinement in a Gentile prison, from which, as he saw
clearly, nothing but death was likely to release him.
And yet, in spite of all this, St. Paul is exultingly
triumphant. Not at all because he does not perceive,
or cannot feel, the difficulties and sorrows of his
position. Still less because he wishes to dissemble
either to himself or others the sufferings which he has
to endure. He is no Stoic, and makes no profession of
being above human infirmities and human emotions.
He is keenly sensitive to all that affects his own
aspirations and affections and the well-being of those
whom he loves. He is well aware of the dangers both
of body and soul which beset those who are far dearer
to him than life. And he gives strong expression to
his trouble and anxiety. But he measures the troubles
of time by the glories of eternity. With the eye of
faith he looks across all this apparent failure and
neglect to the crown of righteousness which the
righteous Judge has in store for him, and for thousands
upon thousands of others also,—even for all those who
have learned to look forward with longing to the time
when their Lord shall appear again.
In all this we see in miniature the history of
Christendom since the Apostle’s death. His career
was a fore-shadowing of the career of the Christian
Church. In both cases there appears to be only a
handful of real disciples with a company of shallow
and fickle followers, to set against the stolid, unmoved
mass of the unconverted world. In both cases, even
among the disciples themselves, there is the cowardice
of many, and the desertions of some. In both cases
those who remain true to the faith dispute among
themselves which of them shall be accounted the
greatest. St. Paul was among the first to labour that
Christ’s ideal of one holy catholic Church might be
realized. Eighteen centuries have passed away, and
the life of the Church, like that of St. Paul, looks like a
failure. With more than half the human race still not
even nominally Christian; with long series of crimes
committed not only in defiance, but in the name, of
religion; with each decade of years producing its
unwholesome crop of heresies and schisms;—what has
become of the Church’s profession of being catholic,
holy, and united?
The failure, as in St. Paul’s case, is more apparent
than real. And it must be noted at the outset that our
means of gauging success in spiritual things are
altogether uncertain and inadequate. Anything at all
like scientific accuracy is quite out of our reach, because
the data for a trustworthy conclusion cannot be
obtained. But the case is far stronger than this. It
is impossible to determine even roughly where the
benefits conferred by the Gospel end; what the average
holiness among professing Christians really is; and
to what extent Christendom, in spite of its manifold
divisions, is really one. It is more than possible that
the savage in central Africa is spiritually the better for
the Incarnation of which he knows nothing, and which
his whole life seems to contradict; for at least he is
one of those for whom Christ was born and died. It is
probable that among quite ordinary Christians there
are many whom the world knows as sinners, but whom
God knows as saints. And it is certain that a belief
in a Triune God and in a common Redeemer unites
millions far more closely than their differences about
ministers and sacraments keeps them apart. The
Church’s robe is tattered and travel-stained; but she is
still the Bride of Christ, and her children, however
much they may quarrel among themselves, are still one
in Him.
And where the failure of St. Paul and of those who
have followed him can be shown to be unquestionably
real, it can generally be shown to be thoroughly intelligible.
Although Divine in its origin, the Gospel has
from the first used human instruments with all the
weaknesses,—physical, intellectual, and moral,—which
characterize humanity. When we remember what this
implies, and also remember the forces against which
Christianity has had to contend, the marvel rather is
that the Gospel has had so large a measure of success,
than that its success is not yet complete. It has
had to fight against the passions and prejudices of
individuals and nations, debased by long centuries of
immorality and ignorance, and strengthened in their
opposition to the truth by all the powers of darkness.
It has had to fight, moreover, with other religions,
many of which are attractive by their concessions to
human frailty, and others by the comparative purity
of their rites and doctrines. And against them all it
has won, and continues to win, man’s approbation and
affection, by its power of satisfying his highest aspirations
and his deepest needs. No other religion or
philosophy has had success so various or so far reaching.
The Jew and the Mahometan, after centuries of intercourse,
remain almost without influence upon European
minds; while to Western civilization the creed of
the Buddhist remains not only without influence, but
without meaning. But the nation has not yet been
found to which Christianity has been proved to be
unintelligible or unsuitable. To whatever quarter of
the globe we look, or to whatever period of history
during the Christian era, the answer is still the same.
Multitudes of men, throughout eighteen centuries,
under the utmost variety of conditions, whether
of personal equipment or of external circumstance,
have made trial of Christianity, and have found
it satisfying. They have testified as the result of
their countless experiences that it can stand the wear
and tear of life; that it can not only fortify but
console; and that it can rob even death of its sting
and the grave of its victory by a sure and certain hope
of the crown of righteousness, which the righteous
Judge prepares for all those who love, and have long
loved, His appearing.
“Who have loved and do love His
appearing.”The somewhat unusual word here used for Christ’s second
coming (ἐπιφάνεια) has been condemned as un-Pauline; but it occurs
2 Thess. ii. 8, and the cognate verb φανεροῦν is found Col. iii. 4.
Cf. 2 Tim. i. 10; iv. 1; Tit. ii. 13; 1 Tim. vi. 14.
That is the full force of the Greek perfect
(τοῖς ἠγαπηκόσιν),
which expresses the present and permanent
result of past action; and therein lies the test
whereby to try the temper of our Christianity. St.
Paul, who had long yearned to depart and be with
Christ, could not easily have given a more simple or
sure method of finding out who those are who have a
right to believe that the Lord has a crown of righteousness
in store for them. Are we among the number?
In order to answer this question we must ask ourselves
another. Are our lives such that we are longing for
Christ’s return? Or are we dreading it, because we
know that we are not fit to meet Him, and are making
no attempt to become so. Supposing that physicians
were to tell us, that we are smitten with a deadly
disease, which must end fatally, and that very soon,—what
would be our feeling? When the first shock
was over, and we were able to take a calm view of the
whole case, could we welcome the news as the unexpected
fulfilment of a long cherished wish that Christ
would deliver us out of the miseries of this sinful world
and take us to Himself? The Bible sets before us the
crown of righteousness which fadeth not away, and
the worm which never dieth. Leaning upon God’s
unfailing love let us learn to long for the coming of
the one; and then we shall have no need to dread, or
even to ask the meaning of, the other.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE PERSONAL DETAILS A GUARANTEE OF
GENUINENESS.
“Do thy diligence to come shortly unto me: For Demas forsook
me, having loved this present world, and went to Thessalonica;
Crescens to Galatia, Titus unto Dalmatia. Only Luke is with me.
Take Mark, and bring him with thee: for he is useful to me for
ministering. But Tychicus I sent to Ephesus. The cloke that I left
at Troas with Carpus, bring when thou comest, and the books,
especially the parchments. Alexander the coppersmith did me
much evil: the Lord will render to him according to his works: of
whom be thou ware also; for he greatly withstood our words.”—2
Tim. iv. 9–15.
“Salute Prisca and Aquila, and the house of Onesiphorus.
Erastus abode at Corinth: but Trophimus I left at Miletus sick.
Do thy diligence to come before winter. Eubulus saluteth thee,
and Pudens, and Linus, and Claudia, and all the brethren.”
vv. 19–21.
It would scarcely be exceeding the limits of
legitimate hyperbole to say that these two passages
prove the authenticity and genuineness of the
Pastoral Epistles; that they are sufficient to show
that these letters are an authentic account of the
matters of which they treat, and that they are genuine
letters of the Apostle Paul.
In the first of these expositions it was pointed out
how improbable it is that a portion of one of these
letters should be genuine, and not the remainder of
it; or that one of the three should be genuine, and not
the other two; and a fortiori, that two of the three
should be genuine, and not the remaining one.
The passages before us are among those of which
it has been truly said that they “cling so closely
to Paul that it is only by tearing the letter to pieces
that any part can be dissociated from that
Apostle.”Salmon’s Historical Introduction to the New Testament, p. 426,
3rd ed., to which the writer of this exposition is under great
obligations. The book should be in the hands of every student of
the N. T.
The internal evidence is here too strong even for
those critics who deny the Pauline authorship of the
Pastoral Epistles as a whole. Thus Renan and
Weisse are disposed to admit that we have here
embedded in the work of a later writer portions of a
genuine letter of the Apostle; while Ewald, Hausrath,
and Pfleiderer accept not only these verses, but
the earlier passage about Phygelus, Hermogenes, and
Onesiphorus as genuine also. Similar views are
advocated by Hitzig, Krenkel, and Immer, of whom
the two first admit that the Epistle to Titus also contains
genuine fragments. And quite recently (1882)
we have Lemme contending that only the central
portion of 2 Timothy (ii. 11 to iv. 5) is an interpolation.
These concessions amount to a concession of the
whole case. It is impossible to stop there. Either
much more must be conceded or much less. For, (1)
we cannot without very strong evidence indeed
accept so improbable a supposition as that a Christian
long after the Apostle’s death was in possession of
letters written by him, of which no one else knew
anything, that he worked bits of these into writings
of his own, which he wished to pass off as Apostolic,
and that he then destroyed the genuine letters, or
disposed of them in such a way that no one knew that
they had ever existed. Such a story is not absolutely
impossible, but it is so unlikely to be true, that to
accept it without clear evidence would be most uncritical.
And there is not only no clear evidence;
there is no evidence at all. The hypothesis is pure
imagination. (2) The portions of this letter which are
allowed by adverse critics to be genuine are precisely
those in which a forger would be pretty sure to be
caught tripping. They are full of personal details,
some of which admit of being tested, and all of which
can be criticized, as to whether they are natural
and consistent or not. Would a forger be likely to
risk detection by venturing on such dangerous ground?
He would put into the letter those doctrines for which
he wished to appear to have St. Paul’s authority;
and, if he added anything else, he would take care not
to go beyond vague generalities, too indefinite to be
caught in the meshes of criticism. But the writer of
this letter has done the reverse of all this. He has
given an abundance of personal detail, such as can be
found in only one other place in the New Testament,
and that in the concluding portion of the Epistle to the
Romans, one of the indisputable writings of St. Paul.
And he has not been caught tripping. Hostile
writers have subjected these details to the most searching
criticism; and the result, as we have seen, is that
many of them are constrained to admit that these
portions of the letter are genuine productions of the
Apostle. That is, those portions of the Epistle which
can be subjected to a severe test, are allowed to be
by St. Paul, because they stand the test; while those
which do not admit of being thus tested are rejected,
not because there is any proof of their being spurious,
but because critics think that the style is not like the
Apostle’s. Would they not be the first to deride
others for such an opinion? Supposing that these
details had contained absurdities or contradictions,
which could not have been written by St. Paul, would
they not have maintained, and reasonably maintained,
that it was monstrous to surrender as spurious
those sections of the letter which had been tested and
found wanting, and to defend as genuine the other
sections, which did not admit of being tested?
Let us look at the details a little more closely.
Besides St. Paul and Timothy, twenty-three Christians
of the Apostolic age are mentioned in this short letter.
A considerable number of these are persons of whom
we read in the Acts or in St. Paul’s other letters; but
the majority are new names, and in most of these cases
we know nothing about the bearers of the names
beyond what is told us here. Would a forger have
given us this mixture of known and unknown? If he
ventured upon names at all, would he not either have
given us imaginary persons, whose names and actions
could not be checked by existing records, or else have
kept closely to the records, so that the checking might
tell in his favour? He has done neither. The new
names do not look like those of imaginary persons,
and the mention of known persons is by no means
a mere reproduction of what is said of them elsewhere.
“Demas forsook me, having loved this present
world.... Take Mark and bring him with thee: for
he is useful to me for ministering.” A forger with the
Acts and the Epistles to the Colossians and Philemon
before him would have made Mark forsake Paul, and
Demas be commended as useful to him; for in the
Acts (xv. 38) Paul had to condemn Mark for slackness,
and in the Epistles to the Colossians (iv. 14) and to
Philemon (24) Demas with Luke is waiting on the
Apostle in his imprisonment. And yet how natural
that the Apostle’s condemnation should rouse Mark
to greater earnestness, and that the Apostle should
recognize that earnestness in this farewell letter? And
how consistent with human frailty also that Demas
should have courage enough to stand by St. Paul
during his first Roman imprisonment, and yet should
quail before the greater risks of the second! That the
Apostle’s complaint respecting him means more than
this, is unlikely. Yet some have exaggerated it into
a charge of heresy, or even utter apostasy. We are
simply to understand that Demas preferred comfort
and security away from Rome to the hardship and
danger of a Roman prison; and therefore went to
Thessalonica. Why he selected that town we are not
told, but there being a Christian community there
would be one reason.
“Titus to Dalmatia.” Why should a forger send
Titus to Dalmatia? The Pastoral Epistles, whether
a forgery or not, are all by one hand, and seem to
have been written within a short time of one another.
Would not a forger have sent Titus either to Crete
(Tit. i. 5), or to Nicopolis (Tit. iii. 12)? But if Titus
went to Nicopolis, and failed to find Paul there, owing
to his having been meanwhile arrested, what more
probable than that he should go on into Dalmatia?
The forger, if he had thought of this, would have
called attention to it, to ensure that his ingenuity was
not overlooked.
“But Tychicus I sent to Ephesus.” The meaning
of the “but” is not quite clear. Perhaps the most
probable supposition is that it indicates the reason why
the Apostle needs a useful person like Mark. “I had
such a person in Tychicus; but he is gone on a mission
for me to Ephesus.” How natural all this is! And
what could induce a forger to put it in? We are told
in the Acts that Tychicus belonged to the Roman
province of Asia (xx. 4), and that he was with St. Paul
at the close of his third missionary journey about nine
years before the writing of this letter to Timothy.
Three or four years later we find Tychicus once more
with St. Paul during the first Roman imprisonment;
and he is sent with Onesimus as the bearer of the
Epistle to the Colossians (iv. 7) and to the Ephesians
(vi. 21). And we learn from the sentence before us, as
well as from Titus iii. 12, that he still enjoys the confidence
of the Apostle, for he is sent on missions for him
to Crete and to Ephesus. All these separate notices of
him hang together consistently representing him as
“the beloved brother,” and also as a “faithful minister
and fellow-servant in the Lord,” whom St. Paul was
accustomed to entrust with special commissions. If
the mission to Ephesus mentioned here is a mere copy
of the other missions, would not a forger have taken
some pains to ensure that the similarity between his
fiction and previous facts should be observed?
“The cloke that I left at Troas with Carpus, bring
when thou comest, and the books, especially the
parchments.” Here the arguments against the probability
of forgery reach a climax; and this verse
should be remembered side by side with “Be no longer
a drinker of water, but use a little wine for thy
stomach’s sake” in the First Epistle (v. 23). What
writer of a fictitious letter would ever have dreamed of
inserting either passage? To an unbiassed mind they
go a long way towards producing the impression that
we are dealing with real letters and not with inventions.
And this argument holds good equally well, whatever
meaning we give to the word (φελόνη) which is
rendered “cloke.” It probably means a cloke, and is
a Greek form of the Latin penula. It appears to have
been a circular garment without sleeves, but with
a hole in the middle for the head. Hence some
persons have made the astounding suggestion that it
was a eucharistic vestment analogous to a chasuble,
and have supposed that the Apostle is here asking, not
for warm clothing “before winter,” but for a sacerdotal
dress for ritualistic purposes. But since Chrysostom’s
day there has been a more credible suggestion that the
word means a bag or case for books. If so, would the
Apostle have mentioned both the book-bag and the
books, and would he have put the bag before the
books? He might naturally have written, “Bring the
book-bag,”—of course with the books in it; or, “Bring
the books and the bag also.” But it seems a strange
way of putting the request to say, “The book-bag that I
left at Troas with Carpus, bring when thou comest;
the books also, especially the parchments,” as if the bag
were the chief thing that he thought about. It seems
better to abide by the old rendering “cloke;” and,
if this is correct, then it fits in well with “Do thy
diligence to come before winter.” Yet the writer in no
way draws our attention to the connexion between the
need of the thick cloke and the approach of winter:
and the writer of a real letter would have no need
to do so. But would a forger have left the connexion
to chance?The striking parallel to this request afforded by that of William
Tyndale is pointed out in Farrar’s St. Paul, ii. p. 571. Tyndale writes
from his prison in the Castle of Vilvorden to ask, “idque per Dominum Jesum,”
for warmer clothing, and above all for his Hebrew
Bible, grammar, and dictionary.
Whether Alexander the coppersmith is the person
of that name who was put forward by the Jews in the
riot raised by Demetrius (Acts xix. 33), is not more
than a possibility. The name Alexander was exceedingly
common; and we are not told that the Jew in
the riot at Ephesus was a smith, or that Alexander
the smith was a Jew. In what way the coppersmith
“showed much ill-treatment” to the Apostle, we are
not told. As St. Paul goes on immediately afterwards
to speak of his “first defence,” it seems reasonable to
conjecture that Alexander had seriously injured the
Apostle’s cause in some way. But this is pure conjecture;
and the ill-treatment may refer to general
persecution of St. Paul and opposition to his teaching.
On the whole the latter hypothesis appears to be
safer.
The reading, “The Lord will render to him”
(ἀποδώσει), is shown by an overwhelming balance of
evidence to be preferable to “The Lord reward him
(ἀποδώη) according to his works.” There is no malediction.
Just as in ver. 8 the Apostle expresses his
conviction that the Lord will render (ἀποδώσει) a crown
of righteousness to all those who love His appearing,
so here he expresses a conviction that He will render
a just recompense to all those who oppose the work of
His kingdom. What follows in the next verse, “may
it not be laid to their account,” seems to show that the
Apostle is in no cursing mood. He writes in sorrow
rather than in anger. It is necessary to put Timothy
on his guard against a dangerous person; but he
leaves the requital of the evil deeds to God.
“Salute Prisca and Aquila.” A forger with the
Apostle’s indisputable writings before him, would
hardly have inserted this; for he would have concluded
from Rom. xvi. 3, 4, that these two well-known helpers
of St. Paul were in Rome at this very time. Aquila
was a Jew of Pontus who had migrated from Pontus
to Rome, but had had to leave the capital again when
Claudius expelled the Jews from the city (Acts xviii. 2).
He and his wife Prisca or Priscilla then settled in
Corinth, where St. Paul took up his abode with them,
because they were Jews and tent-makers, like himself.
And in their workshop the foundations of the Corinthian
Church were laid. Thenceforward they became
his helpers in preaching the Gospel, and went with him
to Ephesus, where they helped forward the conversion
of the eloquent Alexandrian Jew Apollos. After much
service to the Church they returned once more to
Rome, and were there when St. Paul wrote the Epistle
to the Romans. Either the persecution under Nero,
or possibly missionary enterprise, induced them once
more to leave Rome and return to Asia. The Apostle
naturally puts such faithful friends, “who for his life
laid down their necks” (Rom. xvi. 3), in the very first
place in sending his personal greetings; and they are
equally naturally coupled with the household of Onesiphorus,
who had done similar service in courageously
visiting St. Paul in his imprisonment (ver. 16). The
double mention of “the household of Onesiphorus” (not
of Onesiphorus himself) has been commented upon in
a former exposition (see No. XXVIII.).
Of the statements, “Erastus abode at Corinth: but
Trophimus I left at Miletus sick,” no more need be
said than to point out how lifelike and natural they
are in a real letter from one friend to another who
knows the persons mentioned; how unlikely they are
to have occurred to a writer who was inventing a letter
in order to advocate his own doctrinal views. That
Trophimus is the same person as the Ephesian, who
with Tychicus accompanied St. Paul on his third
missionary journey (Acts xx. 4; xxi. 29), may be
safely assumed. Whether Erastus is identical with
the treasurer of Corinth (Rom. xvi. 23), or with the
Erastus who was sent by Paul with Timothy to
Macedonia (Acts xix. 22), must remain uncertain.
“Eubulus saluteth thee, and Pudens, and Linus, and
Claudia.” With this group of names our accumulation
of arguments for the genuineness of this portion of
the letter, and therefore of the whole letter, and therefore
of all three Pastoral Epistles, comes to an end.
The argument is a cumulative one, and this last item
of the internal evidence is by no means the least
important or least convincing. About Eubulus, Pudens,
and Claudia we know nothing beyond what this
passage implies, viz., that they were members of the
Christian Church in Rome; for the very bare possibility
that Pudens and Claudia may be the persons of
that name who are mentioned by Martial, is not worth
more than a passing reference. But Linus is a person
about whom something is known. It is unlikely that
in the Apostolic age there were two Christians of this
name in the Roman Church; and therefore we may
safely conclude that the Linus who here sends greeting
is identical with the Linus, who, according to very
early testimony preserved by Irenæus (Hær., III. iii.
3), was first among the earliest bishops of the Church
of Rome. Irenæus himself expressly identifies the
first Bishop of Rome with the Linus mentioned in the
Epistles to Timothy, and that in a passage in which
(thanks to Eusebius) we have the original Greek of
Irenæus as well as the Latin translation. From his
time (c. A.D. 180) to the present day, Linus, Anencletus
or Anacletus or Cletus (all three forms of the name
are used), and Clement have been commemorated as
the three first Bishops of Rome. They must all of
them have been contemporaries of the Apostle. Of
these three far the most famous was Clement; and a
writer at the end of the first century, or beginning of
the second, inventing a letter for St. Paul, would be
much more likely to put Clement into it than Linus.
Again, such a writer would know that Linus, after the
Apostle’s death, became the presiding presbyter of the
Church of Rome, and would place him before Eubulus
and Pudens. But here Linus is placed after the other
two. The obvious inference is, that, at the time when
this letter was written, Linus was not yet in any
position of authority. Like the other persons here
named, he was a leading member of the Church in
Rome, otherwise he would hardly have been mentioned
at all; but he has not yet been promoted to the chief
place, otherwise he would at least have been mentioned
first, and probably with some epithet or title. Once
more one asks, what writer of fiction would have
thought of these niceties? And what writer who
thought of them, and elaborated them thus skilfully,
would have abstained from all attempt to prevent their
being overlooked and unappreciated?
The result of this investigation is greatly to increase
our confidence in the genuineness of this letter and
of all three Pastoral Epistles. We began by treating
them as veritable writings of the great Apostle, and
a closer acquaintance with them has justified this
treatment. Doubts may be raised about everything;
but reasonable doubts have their limits. To dispute
the authenticity of the Epistles to the Corinthians,
Romans, and Galatians is now considered to be a sure
proof that the doubter cannot estimate evidence; and
we may look forward to the time when the Second
Epistle to Timothy will be ranked with those four great
Epistles as indisputable. Meanwhile let no student
of this letter doubt that in it he is reading the touching
words in which the Apostle of the Gentiles gave his
last charge to his beloved disciple, and through him
to the Christian Church.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE APOSTLE FORSAKEN BY MEN BUT STRENGTHENED
BY THE LORD.—THE MISSION TO THE GENTILES
COMPLETED.—THE SURE HOPE, AND THE
FINAL HYMN OF PRAISE.
“At my first defence no man took my part, but all forsook me:
may it not be laid to their account. But the Lord stood by me and
strengthened me; that through me the message might be fully
proclaimed, and that all the Gentiles might hear: and I was delivered
out of the mouth of the lion. The Lord will deliver me from evil
work, and will save me unto His heavenly kingdom: to whom be the
glory for ever and ever. Amen.”—2 Tim. iv. 16–18.
There is a general agreement at the present time
that Eusebius is in error, when, in a well-known
passage in his Ecclesiastical History (II. xxii. 2–7),
he refers this “first defence” and the “deliverance
out of the lion’s mouth” to the first Roman imprisonment
and the release which put an end to it, probably
A.D. 63. The deliverance does not mean release from
prison following upon acquittal, but temporary rescue
from imminent danger. Eusebius makes a second
mistake in this chapter which is the result of the first
error; but an avoidance of the second would have
preserved him from the first. He says that the Apostle
shows in the Second Epistle to Timothy that only Luke
was with him when he wrote, but at his former defence
not even he. Now during the first Roman imprisonment
St. Paul was not alone, and one of the persons
who was with him was Timothy himself, as we see
from the opening of the letter to the Philippians. It
is, therefore, highly improbable that the Apostle would
think it worth while to tell Timothy what took place
at the trial which ended the first imprisonment, seeing
that Timothy was then in Rome. And even if Timothy
had left Rome before the trial came on, which is not
very likely, he would long since have heard what took
place, both from others and from the Apostle himself.
It is obvious that in the present passage St. Paul is
giving his disciple information respecting something
which has recently taken place, of which Timothy is
not likely to have heard.
The value of the witness of Eusebius is not, however,
seriously diminished by this twofold mistake.
It is clear that he was fully convinced that there were
two Roman imprisonments; one early in Nero’s reign,
when the Emperor was more disposed to be merciful,
and one later; and that he was convinced of this on
independent grounds, and not because he considered
that the genuineness of the Pastoral Epistles would be
untenable without the hypothesis of a second imprisonment.
Another confirmation of the view of Eusebius is
found in the statement respecting Trophimus, that Paul
had left him sick at Miletus. It is impossible to place
the Apostle at Miletus with Trophimus prior to the first
imprisonment. Consequently some who deny the second
imprisonment, and yet maintain the genuineness of this
letter, resort to the desperate method of making the
verb to be third person plural instead of first person
singular (απέλειπον or
απέλιπον), and translating
“Trophimus they left at Miletus sick.”
“At my first defence no man took my part, but all
forsook me.” He had no patronus, no advocatus, no
clientela. Among all the Christians in Rome there was
not one who would stand at his side in court either
to speak on his behalf, or to advise him in the conduct
of his case, or to support him by a demonstration of
sympathy. The expression for “no one took my part”
(οὐδείς μοι παρεγένετο) literally means “no one came
to my side,” or “became present on my behalf.” The
verb is specially frequent in the writings of St. Luke.
And the word which is rendered “forsook” (εγκατέλιπον)
is still more graphic. It signifies “leaving a person in
a position,” and especially in a bad position; leaving
him in straits. It is almost the exact counterpart of
our colloquial phrase “to leave in the lurch.” St. Paul
uses it elsewhere of those who with him are “pursued,
but not forsaken” (2 Cor. iv. 9). And both St. Mark
and St. Luke, following the LXX., use it in translating
Christ’s cry upon the cross: “Why hast thou forsaken
Me?” Hence it signifies not merely desertion (καταλείπειν),
but desertion at a time when help and support
are needed.
What is the meaning of the “all”? “All forsook me.”
Does it include Luke, whom he has just mentioned as
being the only person with him? And, if so, is it
meant as an indirect reproach? Some would have it
that we have here an indication of the spurious character
of the letter. The forger is unable consistently to
maintain the part which he has assumed. In writing
“all forsook me” he has already forgotten what he
has just written about Luke: and he forgets both
statements when a few lines further on he represents
Eubulus, Pudens, Linus, Claudia, and others as sending
greetings.
But, like so many of these objections, this criticism
turns out, when reasonably examined, to be an argument
for the genuineness of the letter. These apparent
inconsistencies are just the things which a forger could
and would have avoided. Even a very blundering
forger would have avoided three glaring contradictions
in about thirty lines: and they are glaring contradictions,
if they are interpreted as they must be interpreted
for the purposes of this criticism. “Only Luke is
with me.” “Every one has forsaken me.” “All the
brethren salute thee.” Any one of these statements,
if forced to apply to the same set of circumstances,
contradicts the other two. But then this meaning is
forced upon them, and is not their natural meaning:
and these are just the apparent inconsistencies which
the writer of a real letter takes no pains to avoid,
because there is not the smallest danger of his being
misunderstood.
“All forsook me” is exactly a parallel to “all that
are in Asia turned away from me” (see pp. 321, 322.)
The “all” in both cases means “all who might have
been expected to help.” It refers to those who could
have been of service, who in many cases had been
asked to render service, by being witnesses in Paul’s
favour and the like, and who abstained from doing
anything for him. The Apostle’s “first defence”
probably took place some weeks, or even months,
before the writing of this letter. From our knowledge
of the delays which often took place in Roman legal
proceedings, there would be nothing surprising if a
whole year had elapsed since the first opening of the
case. It is quite possible, therefore, that at the time
when it began St. Luke was not yet in Rome, and
consequently had no opportunity of aiding his friend.
And it is also possible that he was not in a position to
render any assistance, however anxious he may have
been to do so. There is no reason whatever for
supposing that the Apostle includes him among those
for whom he prays that God will forgive them their
desertion of him, even as he himself forgives it.
Nor is there any contradiction between “Only Luke
is with me,” and the salutations sent by Eubulus and
others. There were various members of the Church
in Rome who occasionally visited St. Paul in his
imprisonment, or at least kept up a certain amount
of communication with him. But Luke was the only
outsider who was with him, the only one who had come
to him from a distance and been both able and willing
to remain with him. Others both in Rome and from
other Churches had paid visits to the prisoner; but
they had been unable or unwilling to stay with him.
Luke was the only person who had done that. Therefore
the fact that various Roman Christians were ready
to send greetings to Timothy is in no way inconsistent
with the special commendation bestowed upon St. Luke
for being his friend’s sole companion in prison.
For the cowardly or unkind abstention of the rest
the Apostle has no stronger word of condemnation than
“may it not be laid to their account.” No one knew
better than himself how weak-hearted many of these
disciples were, and how great were the dangers of his
own position and of all those who ventured to associate
themselves with him. It was otherwise in his first
imprisonment. Then Nero was not quite the monster
that he had since become. At that time the burning
of Rome had not yet taken place, nor had the cruel
outcry against the Christians, of which the conflagration
was made the occasion, as yet been raised. It was
quite otherwise now. To be known as a Christian
might be dangerous; and to avow oneself as the
associate of so notorious a leader as Paul could not
fail to be so. Therefore, “May it not be laid to their
account” (μὴ αὐτοῖς λογισθείη).
This is the very spirit which the Apostle himself years before had declared to
be a characteristic of Christian charity; “it taketh not account of evil”
(οὐ λογίζεται τὸ κακόν): and of God
Himself, Who in dealing with mankind, “lays not to their account their trespasses”
(μὴ λογιζόμενος αὐτοῖς τὰ παραπτώματα
αὐτῶν).1 Cor. xiii. 5; 2 Cor. v. 19.
“But,” in contrast to these timid friends, “the Lord
stood by me and strengthened me.” Christ did not
desert His faithful servant in the hour of need, but
gave him courage and strength to speak out bravely
before the court all that it was right that he should say.
The contrast which the Apostle here makes between
the many who forsook him and the One who stood by
him reminds us of a similar contrast made by the Lord
Himself. “Behold, the hour cometh, yea is come, that
ye shall be scattered, every man to his own, and shall
leave Me alone: and yet I am not alone, because the
Father is with Me” (John xvi. 32). In this respect
also the saying remains true “A servant is not greater
than his lord” (John xv. 20); and Apostles must expect
no better treatment than their Master received. If
they are deserted by their disciples and friends in the
hour of danger, so also was He. But in each case
those who are deserted are not alone, because, although
human help fails, Divine support is always present.
“The Lord” in this passage, both here and a few
lines further on, means Christ rather than the Father.
This is in accordance with St. Paul’s usage. “Lord”
here has the article (ὁ κύριος): and when that is the
case it commonly means Jesus Christ (comp. ii. 7, 14,
22; iii. 11; iv. 14, 22; 1 Tim. i. 2, 12, 14; vi. 3, 14;
1 Cor. iv. 5; vi. 13; vii. 10, 12, 34; etc., etc. In Titus
the word does not occur). Where “Lord” has no
article in the Greek (κύριος) St. Paul usually means
God and not Christ. Some would assert that, excepting
where he quotes from the Old Testament (e.g.,
1 Cor. x. 26), this usage is invariable; but that is probably
too sweeping an assertion. Nevertheless, there
is no reason for doubting that in this passage “the
Lord” means Jesus Christ. We may compare our
own usage, according to which “our Lord” almost
invariably means Christ, whereas “the Lord” more
commonly means God the Father.
The word for “strengthen” (ἐνδυναμοῦν) means
literally “to infuse power into” a person. It is one of
which the Apostle is rather fond; and outside his writings
it occurs in the New Testament only in the Acts and
in Hebrews, once in each (Rom. iv. 20; Eph. vi. 10;
Phil. iv. 13; 1 Tim. i. 12; 2 Tim. ii. 1). It is worth while
to compare the passage in which he speaks to Timothy
of Christ having given him power to turn to Him and
become His servant; and still more the passage in
which, during his first Roman imprisonment, he tells
the Philippians “I can do all things in Him that
strengthened me.” The same thing was true in the
second imprisonment.
The special purpose for which Christ stood by His
Apostle and put strength and power into him is stated.
“That through me the message might be fully proclaimed,
and that all the Gentiles might hear.” Those
who follow Eusebius in the mistake of supposing that
the “first defence” refers to the trial which ended in
St. Paul’s release after the first imprisonment, understand
this proclamation of the message to the Gentiles
as referring to the missionary work which St. Paul
was enabled to do during the few years of interval
(c. A.D. 63–66) before he was again arrested. But if the
proclamation of the message took place in consequence
of the Apostle’s release, then it would have been placed
after, and not before, the mention of deliverance out
of the mouth of the lion. It is not said that he was
delivered in order that through him the message might
be proclaimed, but that he was strengthened in order
that it might be proclaimed. And the special strengthening
by Christ took place in reference to the first hearing
of the case in court, when all human friends forsook
him, while Christ stood by him. It was in court,
therefore, that the proclamation of the message was
made, and that through the instrumentality of the
Apostle the preaching of the Gospel reached its culmination
(τὸ κήρυγμα πληροφορηθῇ).
This was the climax;—that
in the metropolis of the world, in open court,
before the imperial tribunal, the Gospel proclamation
should be made with all solemnity and power. It is
quite possible that this event, which the Apostle of the
Gentiles regards as the completing act of his own
mission and ministry, took place in the forum itself.
Here Tiberius had caused a tribunal to be erected for
causes which he had to hear as Emperor. But Claudius
sometimes heard such cases elsewhere; and his successors
probably followed his example. So that in the
reign of Nero we cannot be certain that such a case as
St. Paul’s would be heard in the forum. But at any
rate it would be held in a court to which the public had
access; and the Roman public at this time was the
most representative in the world. The Apostle is fully
justified, therefore, in the language which he uses.
This opportunity and power were granted “in order
that through me the message might be fully proclaimed,
and that all the Gentiles might hear.” In that representative
city and before that representative audience he
preached Christ; and through those who were present
and heard him the fact would be made known throughout
the civilized world that in the imperial city and
before the imperial bench the Apostle of Christ had
proclaimed the coming of His Kingdom.
And the result of it was that he was “delivered out
of the mouth of the lion.” This was a second consequence
of the Lord’s standing by him and strengthening
him. He was enabled to speak with such effect, that
the sentence of condemnation, which had been feared,
was for the present averted. He was neither acquitted
nor convicted; but the court, being unable to arrive at
a satisfactory decision, granted an extension of time
(ampliatio); that is an adjournment. In technical
phraseology the actio prima ended in a verdict of non
liquet, and an actio secunda became necessary; and as
this second trial might have a similar result, the amount
of delay that was possible was almost boundless.
To ask who is meant by the lion is a futile question.
Whom did the Psalmist mean by the lion, when he
prayed “Save me from the lion’s mouth”? (Ps. xxii. 21.)
He meant no one by the lion; but by the lion’s mouth
he meant some great and imminent danger. And that
is what we must understand here. All kinds of gratuitous
conjectures have been made by those who have
insisted on identifying the lion;—the lion of the
amphitheatre, to whom the Apostle might have been
thrown, had he been condemned; the Emperor Nero,
or, as he was possibly in Greece at this time, his
prefect and representative Helius; or, the chief accuser;
or again, Satan, whom St. Peter describes as “a roaring
lion.” All these are answers to a question which
does not arise out of the text. The question is not,
“Who is the lion?” but, “What is the meaning of
the lion’s mouth?” And the answer to that is, “a
terrible danger,” and especially “peril of death.”
The goodness of the Lord does not end with this
welcome, but temporary deliverance. “The Lord will
deliver me from every evil work, and will save me unto
His heavenly kingdom.” Paul’s enemies are not likely
to be idle during the extension of time granted by the
court. They will do their utmost to secure a sentence
of condemnation at the second hearing of the case, and
thus get the man whom they detest removed from the
earth. Whether they will succeed in this or not, the
Apostle does not know. But one thing he knows;—that
whatever is really evil in their works against him
will be powerless to harm him. The Lord will turn
their evil into good. They may succeed in compassing
his death. But, even if they do so, the Lord will make
their work of death a work of salvation; and by the
severing of the thread which still binds Paul to this life
“will save him unto,” that is, will translate him safe
into, “His heavenly kingdom.”
It is utterly improbable that by “every evil work,”
St. Paul means any weakness or sin into which he
himself might be betrayed through want of courage and
steadfastness. Even if the lion’s mouth could mean
Satan, this would not be probable; for it would be
Satan’s attacks from without, by means of opposition
and persecution, and not his attempts from within by
means of grievous temptations, that would be meant.
What is said above about Alexander the coppersmith
shows what kind of “evil” and what kind of “works”
is intended in “every evil work.” The expression evidently
refers to the machinations of Paul’s enemies.
It is also highly improbable that “will save me unto
His heavenly kingdom” means “will keep me alive
until He returns in glory.” There was a time when
the Apostle expected, like most other Christians of that
day, to live to behold the second coming of Christ.
But what we have already seen in this Epistle shows
that in St. Paul’s mind that expectation is extinct. He
no longer thinks that he will be one of those “that
are alive, that are left unto the coming of the Lord”
(1 Thess. iv. 15, 17); that he will be among the living,
who “shall be changed,” rather than among the dead,
who “shall be raised” at the sounding of the last
trump (1 Cor. xv. 53). He does not repeat, what
seems almost to have been a familiar watchword among
the Christians of that day,—“Maran atha”; “the
Lord is at hand” (1 Cor. xvi. 22; Phil. iv. 5). On
the contrary, it is his own hour that is at hand: “I
am already being offered, and the time of my departure
is come.” He is fully persuaded now that he will not
live to see Christ’s return in glory; and he does not
expect that return to come speedily; for, as we have
seen, one of his chief anxieties is that there should be
a permanently organized ministry in the Churches, and
that provision should be made for handing on the faith
intact from generation to generation (Tit. i, 5; 2 Tim.
ii. 2). There can be little doubt, therefore, that when
the Apostle expresses a conviction that the Lord will
save him unto His heavenly kingdom, he is not expecting
to reach that kingdom without first passing through
the gate of death. What he is sure of is this,—that
the evil works of his adversaries will never be allowed
to prevent him from reaching that blessed resting place.
Christ’s kingdom is twofold; He has a kingdom on
earth and a kingdom in heaven. The saints who are
in the kingdom on earth are still exposed to many kinds
of evil works; and the Apostle is persuaded that in
his case such works will be overruled by the Lord to
further his progress from the earthly to the heavenly
kingdom.
“To whom be the glory for ever and ever. Amen.”
If what was said above about “the Lord” is correct,
then here we have a doxology which manifestly is
addressed to Christ. It is possible that in Rom. ix. 5
and xvi. 27 we have other examples, as also in Heb.
xiii. 21; but in all these three cases the construction is
open to question. Here, however, there can be no doubt
that “the glory for ever and ever” is ascribed to the
Lord Who stood by Paul at his trial and will deliver
him from all evil works hereafter; and the Lord is
Jesus Christ. As Chrysostom pointedly remarks without
further comment: “Lo, here is a doxology to the
Son.” And it is word for word the same as that which
in Gal. i. 5 is addressed to the Father.
With these words of praise on his lips we take our
leave of the Apostle. He is a wearied worker, a forlorn
and all but deserted teacher, a despised and all but
condemned prisoner; but he knows that he has made
no mistake. The Master, Who seems to have requited
His servant so ill, is a royal Master, Who has royal
gifts in store. He has never failed His servant in this
life, in which His presence, though but dimly reflected,
has always brightened suffering; and He will not fail
in His promises respecting the life which is to come.
The Apostle has had to sustain him, not merely Divine
truth wherewith to enlighten his soul, and Divine
rules, wherewith to direct his conduct; he has had also
a Divine Person, wherewith to share his life. He has
kept the faith in the Divine truth; he has finished his
course according to the Divine rules; yet these things
he has done, not in his own strength, but in Christ
Who lives in him. It is this gracious indwelling which
made the victory that has been won possible; and it
is this which gives it its value. The faith which has
been kept is faith in Him Who is the Truth. The
course which has been finished is according to Him
Who is the Way. And the life which has been shared
has been united with Him Who is the Life. That
union will never end. It began here; and it will be
continued throughout eternity in “the life which is
life indeed.” And therefore, with a heart full of thankfulness
to the Master Who has shared his sufferings
and will share his bliss, he leaves us as his last address
to Christ, “To Him be the glory for ever and ever.
Amen.”
INDEX.
Abecedarians, 70.
Acts of the Apostles not written by Titus, 207,
nor by St. Paul, 360-362.
Adornment, The nature of, 251, 252.
Alexander, 75, 76, 373,
413.
Ambrose, 230.
Anacletus, 416.
Ananias and Sapphira, 73, 75.
Anarchy in the Church, 73, 271.
Angels, 138.
Antinomian doctrine, 44, 49, 298,
299.
Apocalypse, 48, 68.
Apollos, 203, 208, 414.
Apostles, 69, 70.
Apostolic Constitutions, 126, 156, 232.
Appuleius, 379.
Aquila, 413, 414.
Aratus, 225.
Aristotle, 240.
Army, Roman, 345, 346.
Artemis, Temple of, 84, 198.
Article, The Greek, 89, 189, 392.
Asceticism, 44, 142, 143.
Athenagoras, 125.
Athleticism, 144.
Aurelius, M., 89, 257.
Augustine, 229, 373.
Authenticity of the Pastoral Epistles, 4-16,
33, 52, 55, 163,
169, 294, 295, 312,
322, 404, 406-417,
421.
Authority, Divine origin of, 273-275.
Avarice, Dangers of, 196-198.
Baptism, 284-293.
Basilides, 8, 42.
Bauer, 8, 10, 12,
33.
Blandina, 257.
Bodily exercise profitable, 143-145.
Bretschneider, 125.
Butler’s Durham Charge, 368.
Carpus, 11, 411.
Cathari, 126.
Celsus, 229, 253.
Cellini, 50.
Certainty, Nature of historical, 105.
Children, Care of, 256.
Chrysostom, 34, 56, 95,
101, 249, 349, 369,
382, 397, 429.
Circumcision of Timothy, 22.
Claudia, 415.
Claudius, 414, 425.
Cleanthes, 225.
Clement of Alexandria, 6, 97, 100,
228, 339, 373.
Clement of Rome, 5, 14, 97,
110, 416.
Clergy and laity from the first distinct, 109.
Cloke, 412.
Collection for Jewish Christians, 205.
Conscientious disobedience, 278.
Contentment, 192-196.
Continuity of doctrine, 336-340.
Controversial spirit, 367.
Controversial violence, 280.
Corinth, Case of incest at, 73, 265.
Corinth, Timothy at, 23, 24, 29.
Corinth, Titus at, 204-206.
Cosin, Bishop, 328.
Credner, 8.
Crete, The Church in, 212-215, 271.
Cynicism, Evils of, 29-31.
Cyril of Jerusalem, 341.
Davies, T. Ll., 301.
Deaconesses, 155, 158.
Dead, Prayers for the, 325-330.
Delivering to Satan, 74.
Demas, 409, 410.
Devil, Personality of the, 77-80.
Diogenes Laertius, 296.
Discipline necessary to the Church, 72, 73.
Divinity of Christ, 268, 269, 283,
429.
Divorce, 120.
Doctrinal statements in the Pastoral Epistles, 259, 282.
Doctrine, Continuity of, 336-340.
Doctrine of the Twelve Apostles, 69, 96, 108,
115.
Döllinger, 8, 129.
Doxology addressed to Christ, 249.
Dress of women, 101.
Ecstasy, 241.
Elders or presbyters, 67, 112, 115,
118, 165, 213, 217.
Elymas, 75.
Emotion in religion, 244-247.
Ephesus, Timothy at, 25, 84, 198,
265, 320, 323.
Epimenides, 224, 225.
Epiphanies of Christ, 260, 269.
Episcopacy, 107, 112, 114,
221.
Erastus, 414, 415.
Evans, T. S., 287.
Eunice, 21, 388.
Eubulus, 415.
Eusebius, 6, 14, 26, 37,
257, 371, 379, 415,
418, 419.
Ewald, 9, 407.
Excommunication, 74, 303.
Extempore prayer, 96.
Failure, Apparent, of the Gospel, 402.
Faith, Test of, 290.
Farrar, F. W., 412.
Flood, The, a type of baptism, 289.
Free will, 40, 41, 57.
Freedom of the Gospel, 362, 363.
Friendship of Paul and Timothy, 26-30.
Genealogies, 34, 35.
Genuineness of the Pastoral Epistles, 4-16,
33, 52, 55, 163,
169, 294, 295, 312,
322, 404, 406-417,
421.
Gessius Florus, 276.
Gladiatorial shows, 179, 347.
Gnosticism, its rapid progress, 37; its problem, 38;
its moral teaching, 44, 53, 151.
Godet, 34.
Gœthe, 79.
Golden ages of the Church, 264.
Grammatical errors in Scripture, 394.
Gregory the Great, 231, 232.
Gregory of Tours, 233.
Hadrian, 89.
Handling aright, 370.
Hands, Imposition of, 63, 64, 67,
166, 167, 315.
Hands lifted in prayer, 97, 98.
Hausrath, 9, 407.
Hegesippus, 6, 337.
Helius, 275, 427.
Heresy, Meaning of in New Testament, 296-299.
Heresy and magic, 383.
Heretical teachers, 53, 382.
Hermas, 108, 125.
Hermogenes, 319-323.
Hippolytus, 128.
Hitzig, 9, 407.
Hooker, 285, 286.
Husband of one wife, 118.
Huxley, 173.
Hymenæus, The punishment of, 74-76, 373.
Hymns, Ancient Christian, 134.
Ideal Church, 116.
Ignatius, 5, 10, 33,
69, 113, 114, 378.
Immer, 9, 407.
Imposition of hands, 63, 64, 67,
166, 167, 315.
Imprisonments of St. Paul, 13, 24, 28,
362, 401.
Imprisonment of Timothy, 24.
Incarnation, The, 44, 358, 359.
Inspiration of Scripture, 381, 393-396.
Intercession, 83, 86, 326.
Irenæus, 6, 112, 113,
294, 338, 373, 415.
Jannes and Jambres, 379-383.
Jerome, 230, 360.
Jewish Gnosticism, 33, 34.
Job, 76, 77, 192.
Julian the Apostate, 230, 231.
Justin Martyr, 6, 96, 119.
Kölling, 8.
Krenkel, 9, 207, 407.
Lambeth Conferences, 266.
Last days, 377.
Latin Fathers and Pagan culture, 227, 230,
232.
Laver of regeneration, 285-292.
Lemme, 9, 407.
Lightfoot, Bishop, 113, 227, 361.
Linus, 113, 338, 415,
416.
Lion’s mouth, 426.
Liturgical forms in New Testament, 83, 134.
Lois, 21, 388.
Lord, when used of Christ, 424.
Luke, 23, 27, 207,
209, 421-423.
Lystra, 21, 22, 24.
Magic, 383.
Mahometanism and slavery, 182.
Maine, 159.
Manumission of slaves, 181, 184, 248.
Marcion’s rejection of the Pastoral Epistles, 4, 5,
8, 10.
Mark, 409, 410.
Marriages, Second, 122, 125.
Mill, J. S., 39.
Milligan, 117.
Missions, 266.
Money, Love of, 193-198.
Montanus, 70, 115.
Mouth of the lion, 426.
Muratorian Canon, 6, 14.
Mystery, Meaning of in New Testament, 132, 135.
Nero, 14, 89, 275,
414, 419, 422, 426.
Newman, J. H., 39, 40,
233-235, 387.
Nicodemus, Gospel of, 380.
Numenius, 379.
Obedience, Duty of, 272, 275.
Onesimus, 411.
Onesiphorus, 313, 319, 320,
323, 414.
Ordination, 60, 63, 220,
314.
Origen, 125, 228, 229,
379.
Origin of the Christian ministry, 104-117.
Pastoral Epistles, Character of, 3, 4,
15, 16, 201, 309,
312.
Paul III., Pope, 50.
Pedanius Secundus, 179.
Persecution, 54, 275.
Peshitto, 6.
Pfleiderer, 8, 10, 11,
407.
Philetus, 373.
Phraseology of the Pastoral Epistles, 7, 26, 47,
52, 404, 424.
Phygelus, 319, 323.
Plato, 178, 240, 241.
Pliny the Elder, 379, 380.
Pliny the Younger, 83, 134.
Polycarp, 5, 338.
Polygamy, 119.
Prayer, Forms of, 96.
Prayers for the dead, 325-330.
Presbyters or elders, 67, 112, 115,
118, 166, 214, 217,
221.
Priesthood, The idea of, 117.
Prisca, 413, 414.
Prophecies on Timothy, 62-64.
Prophet, Meanings of the term, 65.
Prophets in New Testament, 66, 69; in the Primitive Church,
70, 96, 115.
Public worship, 95-102.
Pudens, 415.
Punishment of Hymenæus and Alexander, 74-76.
Rationalism, 387.
Red Sea, Passage of the, a type of baptism, 289.
Regeneration, Laver of, 285-292.
Religious emotion, the use of, 244-247.
Renan, 8, 11, 79, 276,
355, 407.
Resurrection, Belief in the, 355-359, 372.
Reunion of Christendom, 267.
Reuss, 11.
Revisers, Changes made by the, 32, 47, 59,
219, 268, 269, 285,
354, 371, 391.
Roman Church, Its neglect of St. Paul, 28, 400,
420, 421.
Salmon, 8, 113, 407.
Satan, Delivering unto, 74.
Satan, Personality of, 77-80.
Schaff, 395.
Schleiermacher, 78.
Second Advent, Nearness of the, 378, 428.
Second Roman imprisonment of St. Paul, 13, 28,
362, 401.
Second marriages, 122, 125.
Shamelessness in serving God, 370.
Slavery, 175-184,
248-250, 253-257.
Sobriety in religion, 241, 245.
Socialism, 185-187.
Solidarity of Christendom, 86.
Strauss, 79.
Superstition and heresy, 384.
Tatian’s rejection of 1 and 2 Tim., 8, 202.
Tertullian, 6, 10, 89, 90,
98, 101, 128, 166,
227, 294, 295, 300,
339, 346.
Thanksgivings for all men, 92.
Theophilus of Antioch, 6.
Threefold ministry, 221.
Tiberius, 425.
Tigellinus, 275.
Timothy compared with St. John, 19-21.
Timothy at Corinth, 23, 24, 29.
Titus compared with Timothy, 209.
Titus at Corinth, 204-206.
Titus in Dalmatia, 410.
Trinitarian doctrine, 283, 284.
Trophimus, 414, 415, 419.
Trullo, Council in, 155.
Tychicus, 410, 411.
Tyndale, 412, 413.
Verbal inspiration, 393.
Visible means an aid to faith, 291.
Washing of regeneration, 285-292.
Waterland, 293, 306.
Weiss, 7, 15.
Weisse, 9, 407.
Widows, 153-155, 158,
163.
Will, Freedom of the, 40, 41, 57.
Women, Social position of, 256.
Women’s dress, 101, 102.
Worship, Public, 95, 100.
Wordsworth, Bishop C., 134.
Zenas, 203, 208.
Zwickau prophets, 70.