Introduction
Introduction
Bishop Handley Moule confessed that he found it difficult to read Paul’s second letter to Timothy ‘without finding something like a mist gathering in the eyes’.1 Understandably so. It is a very moving human document.
We are to imagine the apostle, ‘Paul the aged’, languishing in some dark, dank dungeon in Rome, from which there is to be no escape but death. His own apostolic labours are over. ‘I have finished the race,’ he can say. But now he must make provision for the faith after he has gone, and especially for its transmission (uncontaminated, unalloyed) to future generations. So he sends Timothy this most solemn charge. He is to preserve what he has received, at whatever cost, and to hand it on to faithful men who in their turn will be able to teach others also (2:2).
In order to grasp the letter’s message and feel its full impact, it is necessary to understand the background against which it was written. Four points need to be made.
1. This is a genuine letter of Paul to Timothy
The genuineness of the three Pastoral Epistles was almost universally accepted in the early church. Allusions to them occur possibly in the Corinthian letter of Clement of Rome as early as c. AD 95, probably in the letters of Ignatius and Polycarp during the first decades of the second century, and certainly in the works of Irenaeus towards the end of the century. The Muratorian Canon, which dates from about AD 200, ascribes all three letters to the apostle Paul. The only exception to this testimony is the heretic Marcion who was excommunicated in AD 144 in Rome. But he had theological reasons for rejecting these (and other) New Testament letters, and Tertullian expressed surprise that he had omitted the Pastorals from his canon. Eusebius in the fourth century included them among ‘the fourteen epistles of Paul’ which ‘are manifest and clear (as regards their genuineness)’, the fourteenth being the Epistle to the Hebrews which (he added) some rejected as not Pauline.2
This external witness to the authenticity of the Pastoral Epistles continued as an unbroken tradition until in 1807 F. Schleiermacher repudiated 1 Timothy, and in 1835 F. C. Baur rejected 2 Timothy and Titus as well. Since then scholars have ranged themselves on each side of the debate, and the Pastorals have had both powerful critics and doughty champions. For an elaborate critique the reader is referred to P. N. Harrison’s The Problem of the Pastorals (1921), and for a careful defence of the traditional Pauline authorship to the commentaries by William Hendriksen (pp. 4–33) and Donald Guthrie (pp. 12–52 and 212–228). The issues can only be sketched here.
The right place to begin is to recognize that in the first verse of each of the three letters the writer advances a clear and solemn claim to be the apostle Paul. He goes on to refer to his former persecuting zeal (1 Tim. 1:12–17), to his conversion and commission as an apostle (1 Tim. 1:11; 2:7; 2 Tim. 1:11) and to his sufferings for Christ (e.g. 2 Tim. 1:12; 2:9, 10; 3:10, 11). More than that, the personality of the apostle seems to permeate these letters. Handley Moule wrote of 2 Timothy: ‘The human heart is in it everywhere. And fabricators, certainly of that age, did not well understand the human heart.’3 Hence even those who deny the Pauline authorship of these letters tend to believe that the writer has incorporated genuine Pauline fragments in his work.
The first ground on which the Pauline authorship of the Pastorals is questioned is historical. It is argued that since they mention visits by Paul to Ephesus and Macedonia (1 Tim. 1:3), Crete and Nicopolis (Tit. 1:5; 3:12), Troas, Miletus and Rome (2 Tim. 1:17; 4:13, 20) which cannot be reconciled with Luke’s record in Acts of the apostle’s journeys, therefore these must be the author’s fabrication or at best genuine visits which he has ingeniously misplaced. But if the apostle was released from his Roman imprisonment and then resumed his travels (as he expected and tradition says), before being re-arrested, it is perfectly possible to reconstruct the order of events (as we shall soon see) without any need to accuse the author of fiction or romance.
The second argument is literary. Critics reject the Pauline authorship of the Pastorals on the ground that much of their vocabulary is absent from the other ten letters attributed to Paul (and some from the whole New Testament), while many characteristic Pauline expressions in those ten letters are absent from the Pastorals. There are plenty of ‘Paulinisms’ in the Pastorals, however, both of style and of language, and the changes of time, situation and subject-matter are sufficient to account for the peculiarities. ‘Great souls are not their own mimes,’ as E. K. Simpson justly comments.4
The third and theological argument takes various forms. Some claim that the God of the earlier Pauline letters (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) and the grace-faith-salvation-works syndrome have become subtly changed and no longer ring true. But there can be no doubt that the Pastorals set forth the electing, redeeming initiative of ‘God our Saviour’ who has given his Son to die as our ransom and to rise again, and who now justifies us by his grace and regenerates us by his Spirit, in order that we may live a new life of good works. Others urge that the prevalent heresy which lies behind the Pastorals—its denial of the resurrection, its love of asceticism, its ‘myths’ and its ‘genealogies’—is the developed Gnosticism of the second century, perhaps of Marcion himself. This conjecture ignores, however, the Jewish aspects of the heresy (e.g. Tit. 1:10, 14; 3:9; 1 Tim. 1:3–11) and its evident similarities to the Colossian heresy to which the apostle has already addressed himself a year or two previously.
The fourth argument is ecclesiastical, namely that the church structures envisaged in the Pastorals are those of the second century, including the monarchical episcopate to which Bishop Ignatius of Antioch referred in his letters. Some critics go further and find the whole atmosphere of the Pastorals too ‘churchy’ for Paul. Ernst Käsemann5 quotes Martin Dibelius as having once said that the Pastoral Epistles ‘mark the beginning of the bourgeois outlook in the church’. He adds that he cannot himself regard as Pauline letters in which the church has become ‘the central theme of theology’, ‘the gospel is domesticated’ and Paul’s image is ‘heavily daubed by church piety’.6 One can only reply that this is an extremely subjective judgment. Paul’s earliest letters already give evidence of a high doctrine of the church and the ministry, and Luke tells us that it was his policy to ordain elders in every church from his first missionary journey onwards (Acts 14:23). That he should have developed this further in the Pastorals, with instructions about the selection and appointment of ministers, the worship of the church and the maintenance of doctrine, is entirely understandable. But the church and ministry he describes are still recognizably the same, and there is no monarchical episcopate or threefold ministry yet, because ‘bishops’ and ‘elders’ are still the same order.
Consequently, the conclusion of many scholars is still that the arguments which have been advanced to deny the Pauline authorship of the Pastoral Epistles—historical, literary, theological and ecclesiastical—are not sufficient to overthrow the evidence, both external and internal, which authenticates them as genuine letters addressed by the apostle Paul to Timothy and Titus.
2. The Paul who wrote it was a prisoner in Rome
He describes himself as ‘our Lord’s prisoner’ (1:8), and this was his second Roman imprisonment. He was not now enjoying the comparative freedom and comfort of his own hired house, in which Luke takes leave of him at the end of the Acts and from which he seems to have been set free, as he expected. Instead, he was incarcerated in some ‘dismal underground dungeon with a hole in the ceiling for light and air’.7 Perhaps it was the Mamertine prison, as tradition says. But wherever he was, Onesiphorus succeeded in finding him only after a painstaking search (1:17). He was certainly in chains (1:16), ‘wearing fetters like a criminal’ (2:9). He was also suffering acutely from the loneliness, the boredom and the cold of prison life (4:9–13). The preliminary hearing of his case had already taken place (4:16, 17). Now he was awaiting the full trial, but was not expecting to be acquitted. Death appeared to him inevitable (4:6–8). How had this come about?
It seems that, after being released from his earlier imprisonment (the house arrest in Rome described at the end of Acts), Paul ‘again journeyed on the ministry of preaching’.8 He went to Crete where he left Titus behind (Tit. 1:5), and then to Ephesus where he left Timothy behind (1 Tim. 1:3, 4). He may well have gone on to Colosse to see Philemon, as he had planned (Phm. 22), and he certainly reached Macedonia (1 Tim. 1:3). Of the Macedonian cities he visited, one will have been Philippi (Phil. 2:24). From Macedonia he addressed his first letter to Timothy in Ephesus and his letter to Titus in Crete. He told Titus his intention to spend the winter at Nicopolis (Tit. 3:12), a town in Epirus on the west (Adriatic) coast of Greece. Presumably he did this, and presumably, as he requested, Titus joined him there. If the apostle was ever able to fulfil his great ambition to evangelize Spain (Rom. 15:24, 28), it must have been in the following spring that he set sail. Clement of Rome in his famous letter to the Corinthians (chapter 5) said that Paul had ‘come to the extreme limit of the west’. He may have been referring only to Italy, but an allusion to Gaul or Spain—and even Britain (as some have suggested)—seems more likely.
It is safe to assume that he later kept his promise to revisit Timothy in Ephesus (1 Tim. 3:14, 15). From there his itinerary seems to have taken him to the nearby port of Miletus, where he had to leave Trophimus behind ill (2 Tim. 4:20), to Troas (the port from which he had first set sail for Europe) where he stayed with Carpus and left his cloak and some books behind (2 Tim. 4:13), to Corinth where Erastus left the party (2 Tim. 4:20; cf. Rom. 16:23), and so to Rome. Somewhere on this journey he must have been re-arrested. Was it at Troas, explaining why he had no opportunity to collect his personal belongings together but had to leave them behind in Carpus’ house? Or was it only when he reached Rome? We do not know the circumstances. But we do know that he was again arrested and again imprisoned, that this time he had to endure great hardship, and that there was to be no escape. For the Neronian persecution was in full swing (AD 64). And the tradition is likely to be correct that Paul was condemned to death and then beheaded (as a Roman citizen would have been) on the Ostian Way about three miles outside the city. Eusebius quotes Dionysius of Corinth that Paul and Peter ‘were martyred both on the same occasion’, though he adds that Paul’s execution was by beheading and Peter’s (at his own request) by crucifixion ‘head-downwards’.9
Shortly before he died, during his further and more severe imprisonment, Paul sent this second message to Timothy. His execution seemed to him imminent, so that he was writing under its shadow. Although it was an intensely personal communication to his young friend Timothy, it was also—and consciously—his last will and testament to the church.
3. The Timothy, to whom the letter was addressed, was being thrust into a position of responsible Christian leadership far beyond his natural capacity
For over 15 years, since he had first been recruited in his home town Lystra, Timothy had been Paul’s faithful missionary companion. He had travelled with him throughout most of the second and third missionary journeys and had been sent during them as a trusted apostolic delegate on several special missions, e.g. to Thessalonica and Corinth (1 Thes. 3:1 ff.; 1 Cor. 4:17). He had then accompanied Paul to Jerusalem (Acts 20:1–5) and may have been with him on the perilous voyage to Rome. At all events, he was certainly in Rome during the first imprisonment, for the apostle bracketed Timothy’s name with his own when he wrote the prison Epistles to Philemon, the Philippians and the Colossians (Phm. 1; Phil. 1:1; 2:19–24; Col. 1:1).
It is not just that Paul had a strong affection for Timothy as a friend whom he had evidently led to Christ, so that he could call him his ‘beloved and faithful child in the Lord’ (1 Cor. 4:17). It is also that he had grown to trust Timothy as his ‘fellow-worker’ (Rom. 16:21) and his ‘brother and God’s servant in the gospel of Christ’ (1 Thes. 3:2). Indeed, because of Timothy’s genuine concern for the welfare of the churches and because of the loyalty with which ‘as a son with a father’ he had served with Paul in the gospel, Paul could go so far as to say ‘I have no one like him’ (Phil. 2:20–22). Among all Paul’s associates Timothy was unique.
It is not surprising, therefore, that when the first imprisonment was over Paul left Timothy in Ephesus as the accepted leader of the church, a kind of embryonic ‘bishop’. Wide responsibilities were given him: to combat the heretics who were troubling the church there, to order the church’s worship, to select and ordain its elders, to regularize the relief and ministry of its widows, to command and teach the apostolic faith, together with the moral duties which flow from it.10 And now still heavier burdens were about to fall on Timothy’s shoulders. For Paul was on the point of martyrdom, and then the task of preserving the apostle’s teaching intact would be his in yet greater measure. Yet, humanly speaking, Timothy was hopelessly unfit to assume these weighty responsibilities of leadership in the church.
For one thing, Timothy was still comparatively young. Paul had urged him in his first letter: ‘let no one despise your youth’ (1 Tim. 4:12). And in his second letter a year or two later he warned him to ‘shun youthful passions’ (2 Tim. 2:22). We do not know his precise age. If he had been about 20 years old when Paul enrolled him as a missionary associate, he would be in his mid-thirties now. This period of life was regarded as belonging to youth, ‘for there were only two recognized standards of age to the Greek or Roman, neos and gerōn, juvenis and senex, and the former of these conveyed no such juvenile implication as our term youngster … It was employed of adults in the full vigour of life and of soldiers of military age to the verge of forty.’11 Certainly the thirties would be a young age for such church leadership as had been committed to Timothy.
Next, Timothy was prone to illness. In his first letter to him the apostle referred to his ‘frequent ailments’, though without specifying what they were. He went on to recommend a tonic. For his stomach’s sake, he advised, he should give up drinking only water and try a little wine as well (1 Tim. 5:23).
Thirdly, Timothy was timid by temperament. He seems to have been naturally shy. If he had lived in our generation, I think we would have described him as an ‘introvert’. He evidently shrank from difficult tasks, so that Paul in writing to the Corinthians had to pave the way for his mission: ‘When Timothy comes, see that you put him at case among you.’ Again, ‘let no one despise him’ (1 Cor. 16:10, 11). Several times in this second letter which the apostle wrote him, he exhorted him to take his share of suffering and not to be afraid or ashamed, since God had not given us a spirit of cowardice (e.g. 2 Tim. 1:7, 8; 2:1, 3; 3:12; 4:5). These admonitions were evidently necessary. Paul knew Timothy’s weaknesses. He could not forget his tears when they had parted (2 Tim. 1:4). In Fairbairn’s words, Timothy was ‘disposed to lean rather than to lead’.12
This, then, was Timothy—young in years, frail in physique, retiring in disposition—who nevertheless was called to exacting responsibilities in the church of God. Greatness was being thrust upon him, and like Moses and Jeremiah and a host of others before and after him, Timothy was exceedingly reluctant to accept it. Is someone who is reading these pages in a similar situation? You are young and weak and shy, and yet God is calling you to leadership? This letter has a special message for all timid Timothys.
4. Paul’s preoccupation in writing to Timothy was with the gospel, the deposit of truth which had been revealed and committed to him by God
The apostle’s own career of gospel-work was virtually over. For 30 years or so he had faithfully preached the good news, planted churches, defended the truth and consolidated the work. Truly, he had ‘fought the good fight, … finished the race, … kept the faith’ (2 Tim. 4:7). Now nothing awaited him but the victor’s wreath at the winning post. A prisoner now, he would be a martyr soon.
But what would happen to the gospel when he was dead and gone? The emperor Nero, bent on suppressing all secret societies, and misunderstanding the nature of the Christian church, seemed determined to destroy it. Heretics appeared to be on the increase. There had recently been an almost total Asian apostasy from Paul’s teaching (2 Tim. 1:15). Bishop Moule goes so far as to write that ‘Christianity … trembled, humanly speaking, on the verge of annihilation’.13 Who, then, would do battle for the truth when Paul had laid down his life? This was the question which dominated and vexed his mind as he lay in chains, and to which in this letter he addressed himself. Already in his first letter he had pleaded with Timothy to keep safe the deposit: ‘O Timothy, guard what has been entrusted to you’ (1 Tim. 6:20). But since then the situation had worsened. So the apostle’s appeal became more urgent. He reminded Timothy that the precious gospel was now committed to him, and that it was now his turn to assume responsibility for it, to preach and teach it, to defend it against attack and against falsification, and to ensure its accurate transmission to the generations yet to come. In each chapter Paul returned to the same basic concern, or some aspect of it. Indeed, we may summarize the message of the letter in terms of a fourfold charge:
Chapter 1: The charge to guard the gospel.
Guard the truth that has been entrusted to you by the Holy Spirit who dwells within us (1:14).
Chapter 2: The charge to suffer for the gospel.
Take your share of suffering as a good soldier of Jesus Christ … Remember Jesus Christ … as preached in my gospel, the gospel for which I am suffering and wearing fetters like a criminal (2:3, 8, 9).
Chapter 3: The charge to continue in the gospel.
Evil men and impostors will go on from bad to worse, deceivers and deceived. But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have firmly believed … (3:13, 14).
Chapter 4: The charge to proclaim the gospel.
I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus …: preach the word, be urgent in season and out of season, convince, rebuke, and exhort, be unfailing in patience and in teaching (4:1, 2).
The church of our day urgently needs to heed the message of this second letter of Paul to Timothy. For all around us we see Christians and churches relaxing their grasp of the gospel, fumbling it, in danger of letting it drop from their hands altogether. A new generation of young Timothys is needed, who will guard the sacred deposit of the gospel, who are determined to proclaim it and are prepared to suffer for it, and who will pass it on pure and uncorrupted to the generation which in due course will rise up to follow them.