NOTES for Ti1 2:1-8

As we can see, for Paul the goal of Christian life is "the knowledge of the truth." Such is also God's will for every person: God does not want anyone's destruction; He is not trying to assign people to some circles of hell or heavenly dwellings. He only wants each one to know the truth, and therefore to become living truth himself. In Paul's time the expression "to know the truth" had a quite specific meaning: it referred to the knowledge of God, and therefore to the way of the Torah, outside of which no knowledge of God is possible. The fullness of truth is possible for a person only when he himself becomes its embodiment, a living Torah.

This is the Christian's chief task, and it is not worth trading it away for anything else. That is why the apostle advises prayer that the outward life of Christians be, as far as possible, peaceful and calm: after all, the person carried away by outward events, especially war or politics, usually has little time left for spiritual work. Yet the mentioned goal of Christian life would remain unattainable if the Savior Himself had not "bought back" everyone who is ready to trust Him, as Paul usually puts it figuratively.

Speaking of "ransom" or "redemption," the apostle has in mind the fact that the Messiah not only brought the Kingdom into the world, but also made it possible for every seeker to enter it, regardless of what a person may have done in his former life. Indeed, a consciously committed sin, or more precisely its consequences, takes a person captive, and a sinful person cannot free himself from that captivity. The point here is not that someone is deliberately holding him, but that human nature itself, corrupted by the fall, weakens him and prevents him from living a full spiritual life.

In particular, this is also manifested in a person's becoming, as people usually say in such cases, a "slave of circumstances." More precisely, one should speak of those chains of cause and effect that a person generates by his own sinful actions and that then completely determine his further existence. In Hindu and Buddhist tradition such dependence was usually called karmic, and the corresponding patterns were called the law of karma, but people knew about them always and everywhere, even if they called them something else.

It is from this dependence that Jesus frees a person, taking his place in the chain of causes and effects created by his sins and, accordingly, taking upon Himself the consequences of the sins the person has committed. There is, however, one obligatory condition: the person himself repents of the sin committed and completely renounces it. Then it is no longer he who will have to deal with the consequences of what has been done, but his Savior, who in a sense buys him out of the slavery to sin in which the person found himself. And then the possibility opens to a person to become a living Torah and enter the Kingdom: for now the power of sin and of the evil in which the world lies ceases to be absolute over him. This means that the possibility appears of liberation from the bonds of the world's evil. And of salvation as well.

Paul speaks of the need to pray for those representatives of authority under whose rule those seeking the Kingdom could live, in the apostle's own expression, "quietly and peaceably," in order to devote themselves to the main thing that makes up the goal and meaning of their life (vv. 1-7). Apparently this call was connected with the moods of political messianism that were fairly widespread in the circles around the Synagogue, at the center of which stood the ideas of holy war and of establishing the messianic Kingdom by force. Of course, the Kingdom itself was also understood within the framework of such views as a reality not so much spiritual as political. Paul, it is clear, speaks decisively against this political messianism.

At first glance it may appear that Paul's call presupposes complete political indifference and unconcern toward everything connected with public life. But on closer examination this turns out not to be entirely so: Paul calls for prayer for those in power so that the Church, leaving politics aside, may peacefully do its main work: witness to Christ and to the Kingdom so that the Kingdom may spread ever more broadly in the world, transforming it. A power that consciously opposes the Church quite obviously does not fit such a definition.

But the main point is elsewhere: in speaking of abstaining from participation in political life, the apostle wanted above all to remind both Timothy himself and the Ephesian church that the Kingdom, in the Savior's words, is "not of this world," so it is in no way determined by a concrete political situation and does not depend on it. There is no sociopolitical order about which the Church could say, "This is our government"; there is only one about which it could say, "This government does not hinder us." And Paul does not tire of reminding them of the otherworldliness of the Kingdom, so that none of the Christians will be tempted to mistake for it some new religious utopia like the one that seduced many of his fellow believers and kinsmen, leading in A.D. 70 to catastrophe for both Judea and the whole Jewish people.

Reading the news every day, we readily understand how important the prayer for others of which the apostle Paul writes is. Especially prayer for “those in authority,” those who make decisions affecting the destinies of peoples and perhaps of all humanity. It truly depends on them whether we will lead an earthly life that is “quiet and peaceful in all godliness and purity.” And we should not think that politicians of good will do not and cannot exist. The Gospel of Luke speaks precisely of such a person “in authority,” one who loves the people and whom Jesus Himself holds up to others as an example. World history offers other examples as well: holy kings, tsars, princes... A recent example is King Baudouin of Belgium... Let us pray together for the Holy Spirit to work in the hearts of those rulers whom our peoples deserve.

Continuing the theme of a "quiet and peaceable life," Paul speaks about what it should be filled with: prayer and good works (vv. 8-10). Such a way of life would be quite acceptable for any religious person, regardless of the religion he professes. The only exception might be those bearers of the spirit of militant religiosity who accept no one but themselves and consider it their duty to wage holy war against the whole world until the complete triumph of their religion. But the point is not only that the spirit of peaceful religiosity was personally closer to Paul than the spirit of militant religiosity. In any case, the image of Paul when he was not yet either Paul or an apostle testifies rather to the opposite: he did not adopt either the spiritual calm or the religious breadth of his teacher Gamaliel, the Gamaliel of the Book of Acts. But when, after the meeting on the Damascus road, Paul understood what the Kingdom was, he also understood something else: religion is not the main thing in a person's life; it is not religion that makes him righteous, and it is not religion that saves.

The Christian's main task, as the apostle sees it, is not the spread of a new, final, and absolutely true religion, but witness to the Kingdom. But one cannot bear witness to it by words alone: one must show seekers that the Kingdom is not a beautiful dream, but a reality already accessible now to those who want to be joined to it. How could the Kingdom be demonstrated to those who do not yet know anything about it? Answering this question, Paul points to the Church's prayer gatherings as the place where the Kingdom can be seen with one's own eyes. But if those who presented themselves in the prayer gathering as examples of an inhabitant of the Kingdom were no different from pagans the rest of the time, the witness could hardly be considered complete. And the good works the apostle mentions became a manifestation of the same life of the Kingdom in everyday life. Hence also the requirement of hierarchy and order in church gatherings about which Paul speaks, forbidding women to be church preachers, "to teach," vv. 11-15. This is connected, of course, not with any inferiority or second-class status of women, as some readers of the Bible think today, but with the calling given to woman by God and, accordingly, with the ministries entrusted to her by God, among which church preaching is not included.

And the point here is not church discipline as such, but what stands behind it, provided that the Church is living a normal spiritual life, one that is not distorted or perverted: the order proper to the life of the Kingdom, determined not by external laws, but only by God's providence for each of its inhabitants and, accordingly, by each person's calling. In that case even outward order becomes not something self-important and often self-sufficient, but a witness, a witness to the Kingdom that determines this order.

The apostle Paul is one of those specific people against whom feminists raise objections. “How can this be? What he says is simply demeaning.” The problem is that, in his own language, the apostle explains a simple fact: men and women differ greatly in their constitution and divine calling. One can react to this in different ways. One can be indignant and outraged. One can refuse to believe in God because of it. Yet the differences between men and women are a fact that must be taken into account, if only because the paths by which we go to God and the callings He lays upon us depend on who we are.