“Use a Little Wine.” (Homilies de Statuis, Xxi., Preached at Antioch, Tom. Ii., P. 2.)8
Since, therefore, we melt down the gold of the Apostle’s mines, not throwing it into the furnace, but putting it by in the understanding of our soul, not enkindling a flame, but the fire of the Spirit, let us pick up diligently even the tiny shavings. For if the word is brief, its power is great. If the special worth of pearls lies not in their bulk but in their beauty, so is it in the reading of the Divine Scriptures. On the one hand, secular education has a care for much that is trifling, is full of silly talk to its pupils, and sends them away empty-handed, without gain small or great. It is not so with the grace of the Spirit, but just the contrary. By a few words it brings asceticism before all, and often one word is sufficient for the provision of a whole lifetime.
Since we have this wealth before us, let us rouse ourselves, and receive these words with a pure mind. And I am prepared to show that this word (of St. Paul to St. Timothy) contains a great deal. This advice has seemed to many superfluous and trifling, and they make some such remark as, ‘Might not Timothy have known himself how much wine he was to take, without waiting to be told it by his master?’ Now, as the master not only gave the order, but enforced it by letter, as on a metal slab, in the epistle which he wrote to him, was he not ashamed to establish a rule for such things in writing to his disciple? Learn, then, that this advice, far from being superfluous, was necessary and most useful. It is not Paul’s doing, but the grace of the Spirit. I am speaking not only of its having been said, but also of its having been made emphatic in writing, and published by this same epistle to all future generations. I shall come presently to this proof. Together with the remarks I have noted, some people question another and a not less important point, asking themselves why God allowed a man of so great courage, whose bones and body put forth devils, to fall into this great bodily weakness; for he was not merely ill, he was always and persistently ill with illnesses following close upon each other, so as to leave him no breathing time. How do we know this? From Paul’s own words; for he did not say, because of thy infirmity, nor thy infirmities alone, but to show that they were constant he said, thy frequent infirmities. Let as many as are given up to a long sickness, and are in great distress and weariness, listen to this. Our enquiry does not concern itself only with the fact that, being a holy man, he was sick, or that he was so thus constantly, but that he was entrusted with the concerns of the world. If he had been one of those dwellers on the mountain heights, or bound fast to a tent in the desert, and thus leading a life without business, the question would be less puzzling; but exposed to view as he was, with the cares of churches so great upon him, traversing entire cities and countries, and the whole world itself, with so much readiness, that he should have been given up to the powerlessness of illness, this it is which is the most perplexing of all to a man without reflection; for if not for himself, he wanted his health for others. He was an excellent general: he had waged war, he said, not against unbelievers only, but against demons and the devil himself. All his enemies were fiercely assailing him, dispersing his army, and taking it captive. This man could lead thousands to the truth, and he was sick. If no further harm than this had been done to our work by that illness, a man says, that alone was sufficient to make believers grow more careless and negligent. If soldiers see their general confined to bed, they grow careless and less eager for battle; so it was much more natural that the faithful of those days, seeing the master who worked signs so great constantly ill and weak in his body, should suffer, humanly speaking, at the sight. This is not all; but enquiries go on to something else, and ask again why neither he cured himself, nor his master, who saw him thus prostrated, cured him either; whereas they were raising the dead, and casting out demons, and conquering death with authority, they did not cure this one sick body; and whilst in life and in death they were showing forth a wonderful power in other bodies, they did not restore this ailing stomach. And, what is more, Paul was not ashamed, after wonders so great as he had shown forth, by a mere word writing to Timothy, of advising him to try the remedy of wine-drinking. Not that drinking wine is bad. Far from it. This is what heretics assert; but that he deemed it not beneath him that the cure of one sick member could not be affected without this help. He was so far from being ashamed of this that he made it clear to all succeeding generations. Do you see how deeply we have gone into the matter: how that which appears a small thing gives rise to endless questions? Let us, then, add the explanation, for we have gone into it thus deeply in order to rouse your minds and establish them in security.
You must allow me, before coming to the explanation in question, to say something about Timothy’s goodness and Paul’s care for him. What was kinder than he, who at so great a distance, and in a round of so much business, made the well-being of his disciple’s stomach his care, and told him clearly what to do for his restoration to health? And what could equal Timothy’s virtue? He so looked down on luxury and scorned a rich table as to grow weak from his extreme severity and excessive fasting. Listen to Paul’s words plainly showing that he was not this by nature, but that he had lost his strength of stomach through fasting and water drinking; for he did not merely say, Use a little wine, but saying in the first place, Do not still drink water, he added his counsel about drinking wine. The still was a proof that until then he had drunk water, and had so become weak. Who would not be struck with his mortification and severity of life? Timothy was taking heaven itself by storm, and pressing on to the height of virtue, and to this his master bears witness in the words: I have sent you Timothy, who is my beloved child and faithful in the Lord. Now, when Paul calls him his child, and his faithful and beloved child, these words sufficiently show all his worth; for the judgments of the saints are not given either out of love or hatred, but are free from all prejudice. If Timothy had been Paul’s child according to nature, he would not have been as enviable as he is now renowned, for whereas Timothy was nothing to him according to the flesh, through the attraction of piety he drew him into his sonship, preserving carefully in all things the characteristics of Timothy’s asceticism. Just as a calf yoked with a bull, so did Timothy bear the yoke with him all over the world, and made no difference as he grew older, but his ardour induced him to vie with the labours of his master. Paul, again, witnesses to this, saying: Let no one set him at nought, for he is doing the Lord’s work as I am myself. Do you see how he proclaims Timothy’s zeal as equal to his own? And that you may not think that favouring prompted him so to speak, he makes his listeners themselves witnesses of his child’s goodness, saying: You know what his test has been; how he has served with me in the Gospel as a child his father. You have had a proof by this of his virtue and of his tried spirit. Yet whilst Timothy was rising to these great heights of goodness, he did not presume of himself. On the contrary, he was in wrestling and fear. On this account he was diligent in fasting, and did not act as the majority of men do, who, having given themselves up to fasting, some for ten months only, others for twenty, suddenly break up everything. He did not suffer this, nor did he say anything of this kind within himself: ‘Why should I go on fasting? I have got the better of myself: I have conquered my desires, I have mortified my body, I have terrified demons, I have cast out the devil, I have raised the dead, I have cleansed lepers, the opposing powers hold me in fear, what further need have I of fasting and of the weakness which it brings?’ He said none of these things, nor were they in his mind; but the greater his abundance of good deeds, the more he feared and trembled, and this asceticism he had learnt from his master; for he who had been rapt into the third heaven and taken into paradise, who had heard ineffable words and had participated in mysteries so high, who had traversed the whole world as if with wings, said, in writing to the Corinthians: I fear lest, having preached to others, I myself should be cast out. Now, if Paul, who was able to say, The world is crucified to me and I to the world, is in fear after all these his wonderful deeds, how much more should we fear, and this should increase in proportion to the number of our good actions. For the devil storms and rages the more when he sees us ordering our lives with care. When he sees much goodness pressed together and an accumulation of merits, then it is that he sets himself to bring about a completer shipwreck. For a poor and abject man, even if he be supplanted and fall, does not so injure the common good. Now, when he who stands, as it were, gloriously on the heights of virtue, seen and known to all, the object of general admiration, falls into temptation, he effects great ruin and havoc, not only because he fell from a high place, but also because he made those who looked up to him more slothful. Just as in the body, when a member withers up, the harm is not great, yet, if the eyes fail or the head is injured, the whole body becomes useless, so is it with the saints and with those who do great things. When these are extinguished, when they admit any stain, they work immense harm to the whole body.
Now, Timothy had all this before him, and he fortified himself on all sides; for he knew that youth is hard to manage: unstable, easily deceived, unsteady, and that it needs a strong bridle; for it is a pyre which embraces all external things and is easily ignited. Therefore, he was careful to put a check upon it on all sides, and he tried in every way to quench this fire, and he drove the horse, which was unruly and refractory, with much spirit, until he had broken him in and made him obedient, and brought a strong hand to bear upon him, so that he listened to reason’s word of command: ‘Let my body be weak but not my soul,’ he said. ‘Let the flesh be bridled, and my soul in its course heavenwards not be impeded.’ Together with this, what we should especially wonder at in him was, that weakened down as he thus was, and fighting with weakness, he did not neglect God’s work, but was more active than those in full and robust health. He was seen with his master, now at Ephesus, now at Corinth, often in Macedonia, in Italy, everywhere by land and by sea, ever taking part in his toils and in his continual dangers, nor did his weakness of body get the better of his asceticism of spirit. This is zeal according to God, which makes high-soaring easy. Thus, they who are in good case and sound in body will gain nothing by it if their soul be cast down, and soft, and slothful; so the weak will not be harmed by their want of health if their soul be strong and alert. Now, this advice and counsel seem to some to warrant unlimited wine-drinking, which is by no means the case. If anyone would weigh the word carefully, he would find it is rather an exhortation to fasting. For consider, this advice of Paul’s was given not from the first and at the outset. It was given when he knew that Timothy’s whole strength was broken, and even then not unrestrictedly, but with a condition. He did not merely say, Use wine, but, a little wine, and this not because Timothy required the advice, but because we do. Therefore, in writing to him, he limits and restricts wine-drinking, telling him to drink as much as would overcome weakness, and restore health to the body; not what would encourage another complaint. Immoderate wine-drinking breeds complaints no less than excessive water-drinking, or rather much worse ones, both in soul and body. It incites the war of passions, and leads a tempest of foolish fancies into the mind, weakens and enervates strength of body. An abundance of water falling on the earth does not more persistently break up the soil than constant wine-drinking does bodily strength by weakening and wasting it. Let us, therefore, avoid both extremes, and take care of our health, whilst we keep it within due bounds. For wine was given us by God, not that we should be drunk with it, but that we should be temperate, that we should be made glad and not sorry. Wine rejoices the heart of man, the Scripture says. Now, you turn it into a course for despondency. Those who drink too much are sullen, and their reason is overclouded. Used with moderation, it is the best medicine. This will be a useful argument against heretics who attack what God has made. If it had been forbidden, Paul would not have counselled it, nor have said, Use wine. And not against heretics only is it good, but against our own simpler brethren, who, when they see certain men degrading themselves by drink, instead of blaming them, attack God’s gift, saying, Let there be no wine. Then we may answer them: ‘Let there be no drunkenness’. For wine is God’s, whilst drunkenness is the devil’s. It is not wine which makes inebriety, but intemperance. Do not slander God’s creature, but the madness of your fellow-man. Will you neglect to punish and correct the sinner whilst you despise the Benefactor?