The wine-like sea
wordlessly sloshed and sightlessly foamed. The artful forms of rock
and cliff, harbingers of land, were, but for gentle caress of silver
moonlight, wrapped in midnight's arcane embrace. To the eye, all was
absent. But it was a familiar circumstance for Minoan sailors.
Hailing from Crete, nearly two thousand years before any 'Paul' or
any 'Titus' would touch toe to their land of labyrinths, they'd taken
to this sea as to a home, a playground, a birthright. They were
masters of these waves. But how to master what's lost to sight? How
to tame what shrouds its shrewdness? How to find your way in
midnight when all is nothing and nothing is all?
The secret, they'd
learned, is not to look down or ahead. For overhead, above the open
water of the wine sea, there were black seas staring down at them.
And the black seas were luminous. A swarm of light, floating on the
upward abyss. But no seething randomness winged its way there. No,
the Minoans in their ship lifted up their eyes to signs and shapes,
patterns and pointers, “for on every hand signs in multitude do the
gods reveal to man,” they muttered. It was midnight. All around
was obscure. But above were all the charts they needed, and in their
hearts and on their tongues the poems that reminded them how to read
their celestial cartography. Their 'map' was no parchment woven and
written by human hands. Their 'map' was the stars.
Such was sailing in the
heyday of the Minoans. Such, too, was sailing in the days Paul
pressed precariously around Crete's southmost coast. Sailing was yet
the same a few years later when Titus commanded, if not a fleet of
ships on the Cretan waters, then a fleet of churches on the Cretan
culture. And that was no easy sailing. Cretan culture, as we've
heard in recent weeks, had plenty of corruption. It was a
'post-truth' culture, splintered and fractured like ours; naught
could be known, naught could be trusted, naught was sacred, naught
was serious. The institution of slavery had sabotaged the moral
compass of countless lives. The noxious stew of frivolous arranged
marriages and normalized sexual harassment and domestic violence had
stunk up the place, making family life scarcely tolerable and too
often loveless. Throughout all Greece, drinking was a problem,
especially among the elderly – many a playwright toyed with the
caricature of the old drunk – but Crete took it to an art form:
people there could get so proud of their drinking habits that they'd
literally boast and brag about it on their tombstones!
And to all that, Paul
tells Titus, give 'em the words what'll make 'em well – you know,
the healthy teaching, just what the Great Physician ordered: “As
for you,” Paul writes him,
“speak the things that are fitting to healthy teaching”
(Titus 2:1). In this letter, which Paul wrote to Titus there and
then but God preserved for us here and now, Paul is obsessed with
healthy teaching – the kind of instruction that nourishes the soul
on what's good and beautiful and, most strange to Cretan ears,
emphatically true. It's the kind of instruction that never goes
stale, never gets moldy and crusty. And it's the kind of instruction
that puffs up the rich dough of the gospel to its full size and
brings out all the flavors.
But
why is it so important to hear healthy teaching? Because healthy
teaching, healthy instruction, promotes healthy ways of spiritual
living; and healthy ways of living, seen by the world around you,
illustrate what's so healthy and delicious about this healthy
teaching. But, to put it another way, Paul is laying out the map,
the star-chart, by which we're to sail this church; and the
definition of a good journey, a healthy journey, is one that ventures
through dark times by navigating according to these stars, this
chart.
What
healthy teaching have we received? We'll discuss these words in
greater depth next week, but listen to the sweet sounds of next
week's passage. “The grace
of God has appeared”
– in other words, God is not wrathful, God is not sore, God is not
angry with you! God is not dismissive of you! God is not
contemptuous of you, nor does he ignore you! All those are the
opposite of this word, 'grace.' In Jesus Christ, God looks on you
with favor! So it's in Jesus Christ, in whom God's grace swirls like
a hurricane of blessing, that you must be. For “the
grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation
for all people”
(Titus 2:11). No one is outside its reach; no one is too heavy with
sin to get swept up in the grace-hurricane, no one is too light with
insignificance to be hurled to a higher plane in it. And only the
grace of God can save us, rescue us. No ritual, no social network,
no accreditation or accomplishment could bring salvation down or
raise salvation up; salvation is brought by God's grace alone. So we
must just trust that God's favor has
appeared, that salvation has
been brought, in this Jesus. God's favor saves, and saves entirely;
any 'Jesus-plus' program will inevitably be weighed down by tying
grace to less lofty things.
This
grace arrived, “training
us to renounce impiety and worldly passions”
– it's because
we are rescued by this grace through faith, that therefore we must
abandon the things from which he rescued us. We dare not seek to
tread those pathways, cling to those lifestyles, imitate those idols,
ruminate in our ruin, any longer. The grace of God not only trains
us in renouncing these, but also trains us “to
live self-controlled, upright, and pious lives in the present age”
(Titus 2:12), and promises a “blessed
hope”
on the horizon (Titus 2:13). We have been saved from
one way of living, for
another way. We have been saved from
our soul-sickness for
abundant spiritual health. We have been saved from
lostness for
clear navigation. To exhibit good character, spiritual health, is
not a 'Jesus-plus' program. It is not a prerequisite to be saved; it
is what we are saved for, the terraforming in the hurricane's wake,
the effervescence bubbling up from our faith's embrace with grace.
Spiritual health and life transformation are what we are saved for,
because it's just what the life of Jesus in us does.
So
as we hear the words of today's passage, take notice that Paul is
spelling out what kind of life this healthy teaching should lead to
for each demographic under Titus' care. It's the kind of life that
the lively life of Jesus lives in us, works in us; it's the kind of
life that answers the deepest needs and quiets the darkest suspicions
of the age we live in, just as it did for them then.
He
first turns his attention to the older men. And healthy living for
older men, unlike everything Cretan culture tells them, means being
'sober.'
The word Paul uses cuts them off from the favored pastime of Cretan
elders; but in other writers, the word also got applied to an empty
vessel set aside for sacred use, like our offering plate or our
communion tray, all polished and clean and ready for service. That's
what the older men of the church need to be: unstained with
addictions, emptied of inward clutter, and polished up for a holy
purpose (Titus 2:2).
Paul
also wants Titus to tell them to be 'dignified'
or
'serious'
– to be respectable, venerable. It's the word you might use for an
experienced general leading the troops: he isn't hasty to make his
move, but he's firm and decisive when he sees the right time. That's
what the older men of the church need to be: thoughtful, dignified,
not readily swayed by passing fads, not impulsive, but decisive in
the deciding hour (Titus 2:2).
And
Paul adds that they need to be 'self-controlled'
– we'll hear that word a lot here, but it more literally means
'safe-minded,'
well-regulated, kept within safe bounds where life can flourish.
It's when the mind doesn't get all wacky and bent out of shape; no,
it stays in all the parameters for how a God-graced mind is supposed
to work, and keeps itself running as well as can be, safely, where
there's space for the kind of thinking God likes to eavesdrop on, the
kind of thinking that's a sign of life (Titus 2:2).
Paul
tosses in the familiar trio of theological virtues, the ones that
last when all things fall apart. You remember them, I'm sure, from 1
Corinthians 13: faith, hope, and love, though of course “the
greatest of these is love”
(1 Corinthians 13:13). The older men of the church, Paul says, need
to be “healthy
in faith”
– they need to have a deep trust in God, a profound reliance on
Jesus Christ, an active relationship unburdened by sickly ideas or
pointless doubts; they need to know they're at home in the hurricane
of grace. But they need also to be “healthy
in love”
– deeply attached to God and to God's people formed in and around
Jesus, attentive to the Father and the Son, but also to the Spirit
and the Bride. Paul calls them to a deep attachment to God's people,
not their own private projects. And finally, in the place of hope,
Paul elaborates and urges them to be “healthy
in endurance”
– like a veteran sailor, experienced in weathering life's storms
and pressing onward toward the final port. If you have health in
those three theological virtues, you've got all the parts of a whole
soul put together well; you're a full and flourishing Christian. And
that's what Paul tells Titus to have the older men be (Titus 2:2).
Today,
we might say that rules out going wild on a midlife crisis. It rules
out getting too goofy and doddering around. It cuts the strings on
addictions, whether to alcohol or opiates, and unhoards hoarded
life-junk. Instead it models a strong faith, the wisdom of life
experience, a fervent love for God's people, and a well-regulated
life. And that matches the map. It matches the map because Jesus
was all those things. And God's grace in Jesus cuts away all those
hindrances, freeing our older men – and the rest of us – to
faith, hope, love, and life.
Paul
turns his attention to the older women next, and he goes right out
and says that what he's saying to them amounts to basically the same
thing. They aren't to be 'slanderers'
with sharp tongues – literally, they aren't to be devils! That was
a temptation for older women in Crete, I suppose, to gossip and
tongue-wag and criticize and tear down others. But that's like
getting inspired when Satan shows up on career day. Instead, the
older women should find ways to build each other up. And just as
Paul told the older men to be sober, so he urges the older women not
to be “slaves
to much wine”
– something that's sadly becoming fashionable today again, just as
in those days. No, they should be sober and free (Titus 2:3).
What's
more, Paul asks them to be “reverent
in behavior,”
your translation might read, or “reverent
in the way they live,” or
– even closer still – “in
behavior as becometh holiness.”
Paul's talking about a demeanor, a deportment, settled habits that
create an overall bearing for life; but it's one that isn't out of
place when the place is holy. If the older men are to be like sacred
vessels – the plates and tools of temple service, polished for
God's purposes – the older women are directed to be just like
priestesses: conducting their overall life according to the purity
and dignity of the temple. As such, Paul calls them to be “teachers
of the good,”
able to illuminate and illustrate what's really worthwhile in life,
and not the frivolities of fashion or the gripes of gossip or the
harshness of harping, but the good, the beautiful, the true. Paul's
call to the older women is: Live your whole life as priestesses in
the rooms of a gilded temple. That's no place for gossip,
bitterness, cattiness, destructive criticism and competition; such a
temple is a hospital for healing others and, in fact, for passing
along this teaching, this lifestyle, this ordination to a higher hope
(Titus 2:3).
Paul's
attention veers later to the younger fellows – the 'new men.' He
calls on Titus to especially be an example for them, being just a few
years out of that category himself. And, first things first, the
younger men need to be “self-controlled,”
safe-minded and well-regulated, just like the older men – even if
it might be quite a challenge for those whose blood still runs so
hot! But they have to keep that under control, release steam in safe
ways in the bounds God has drawn for our good (Titus 2:6). Like
Titus, they need to be devoted to good works – they can use the
benefits of their youth to the advantage of others, being industrious
with what energy they have before time takes its toll. Like Titus,
they need to follow a pattern of “incorruptibility
and dignity”
– to imitate the character of Jesus, to learn from the older men
how to handle themselves under pressure, to not goof around but
instead to be thoughtful and steady. And like Titus, they need to
turn away from shattered chatter and spoilt speech, from meaningless
mouthings and muddy murmurings, and instead get practice with “sound
speech that cannot be condemned,”
with healthy words that are good and beautiful and true (Titus
2:7-8). Not much of that fits with dominant youth culture today –
but let's not pretend the seeds weren't sprouting forty, fifty, sixty
years ago, either. But with healthy words of goodness and beauty and
truth, and a thoughtful and steadfast mind, and reining in the
passions of youth, and diligently offering good works with their
youthful energy, Paul has another style of youthfulness on the offer.
In
between, he talks to the younger ladies – the 'new women.' In
Cretan culture, it couldn't be assumed that, just because a girl was
married to a man, that therefore she was drawn to him, affectionate
toward him, satisfied with him, even at first, much less as the years
tallied up. It couldn't be assumed that her husband and children
took pride of place, which was the Greek and Roman ideal. In
practice, though, moralists usually said that women should tolerate
and respect their husbands, and all men in general; but Paul goes
further and wants to see them actually be lovers of husbands, lovers
of children – to be committed to their families and to cultivate
the warmth of God in their homes (Titus 2:4).
So,
too, he wants them to be 'homemakers'
– not bound to the home, though in the first century it might seem
like it, but governing the house well and productively. Paul asks
them to be 'pure,'
free from stain, just like the sacred vessels and sacred priestesses,
and to be 'good,'
or kind, in the most full and basic sense. He doesn't tell them to
allow themselves to be beaten into submission under their husbands;
but as a strategic move, he counsels them to voluntarily submit to
their own husbands' direction, precisely so that God's good news of a
grace-hurricane wouldn't be thought to capsize the family dinghy.
Their very own husbands, and the husbands of unchurched friends, were
to be astounded and impressed by how this subversive new teaching was
building a better home. But, in everything, the younger women were
to be “self-controlled,”
safe-minded. Paul has no patience for ancient misogynists who
thought women couldn't possibly be reasonable, women couldn't
possibly be sane, women needed to be controlled by men because they
couldn't control themselves. No! The younger women are called to be
every bit as 'safe-minded,' as 'well-regulated,' as the older and
younger men (Titus 2:5).
Now,
Paul was writing to Titus who was ministering to first-century
churches in Crete, filled with older Cretan men and older Cretan
women, younger Cretan men and younger Cretan women. That just looked
different than today, and in many cases it's good that things look
different now. If Paul wrote to a right-hand man dealing with
twenty-first-century American churches, I'd guess the instructions
for younger men and younger women would read a bit more similar,
because for generations it's been the norm now for women to work in
the public world just as men do. But Paul still teaches plenty.
Even in today's world, the younger women can be tenders of, and
contributors to, the home being what St. John Chrysostom called “a
little church.” And the character that makes a house into a home,
and a home into a little church, is the same that overflows into any
other arenas a young woman may feel called to conquer.
What
Paul is describing to Titus here is a healthy Christian community
birthed from the healthy teaching of the gospel. This is a community
flush with faith, aflame with love, steeped in grace. This is a
community working well, humming along, interacting productively
toward the greater ends of the organic whole. And each piece is
regulated well by a higher wisdom, is kept thinking the thoughts that
thinking is for. Each piece is pure in its own way – polished like
an empty vessel for the offering, elevated to the honor of
priesthood, pure, pure, pure, incorrupt in word and deed. Each piece
contributes what's distinctively, what's characteristically, its own;
and each piece avoids the pitfalls that dent and scratch analogues
that serve only worldly uses.
And
what's important to see here is that each piece in this temple, each
organ in this body, stands in a mentoring relationship; that's woven
into the fabric of what this healthy community is. That's part of
what makes it so healthy. The older women are told explicitly, for
example, to 'train'
the younger ones – it's part of that same word 'self-controlled':
they're to bring the younger ones into regulation. As we grow in
grace, we're to 'regulate' one another: help one another keep our
minds in the safe bounds of Jesus' wisdom where real life grows
(Titus 2:4). The Gospels have a different word for that: it's called
discipleship. But even here, expressed in other words, the basic
idea is the warp and woof of healthy community: it's where healthy
teaching gets passed on; where the inward and outward signs of
spiritual health get tested and encouraged, and where guidance and
regulation don't restrict our Christian freedom but channel it into
power. That's a healthy Christian community, the sort we need to be.
Because all of what Paul is saying could be rephrased as how Jesus
Christ would walk if he occupied your station in life – your age,
your sex, your employment. He is himself our Heavenly Sign, the
starry map up to which we gaze and in him behold the Way. Look on up
to him, and see just what Paul means.
When
we do this, it has results. One, Paul says, is that “an
opponent may be put to shame, having nothing evil to say about us”
(Titus 2:8). When we're all well-regulated and fit for God's temple,
when we all reflect back the Heavenly Sign above us, then the health
of our community, the soundness of our ship, the purposefulness of
our course, will all be unimpeachable. And not only that, but all of
this – from old and young, from man and woman, and from the richest
of rich (like people able to afford massive stores of wine, though
they shouldn't) down to the humblest manual laborer in poverty and
subjection (Titus 2:9) – all of this is so that our teaching about
the grace of God would be decorated – made appealing and inviting
to each other and to our neighbors and our neighborhoods – in
everything each one of us does, in all the ways we live and move and
have our being together in God our Savior (Titus 2:10). No matter
what age bracket you fall in, no matter whether you are a man or a
woman, no matter where you stand on society's ladder of success and
esteem, “in
everything you
may decorate the
teaching about God our Savior”
as displaying all the signs of the real health it really has. These
are the stars by which we steer. And so we sail onward for another
week, “setting
our minds on things above,”
the luminous Sign of Christ. Charting our way by him, we set sail.
Sail on, church. Sail on. Amen.
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