St. Timothy, whose liturgical memorial is celebrated on January 26, was the son and spiritual brother of St. Paul, an apostle who came from the hands of the Apostle, the prototype of the Bishop, and a martyr to inception. God himself tells us his story.
Newsroom (27/01/2025 16:14, Gaudium Press) Among the epics aureolated by penumbra, like that of Henoc, Melchizedek, or Elijah, emerges that of a man whose name is as well known to Christians as his story is ignored: Saint Timothy.
His life escaped the grasp of men. That’s why God himself took it upon himself to tell it, inscribing it in the Bible, the most sacred book of all. In the Acts of the Apostles, in the Pauline epistles, and even in the Apocalypse, here and there traces appear of this unknown but famous personality.
The first chapter of this odyssey is written, according to the Divine Author’s habit, with right letters on crooked lines.
Taken by St. Paul
In unison with Barnabas, St. Paul echoed in Iconium the dangerous name of the Crucified. even more dangerous, of the Risen One. The people, mobbed by the Jews, then rose to stone the preachers, who ran to Lystra, a town some forty kilometers away (cf. Acts 14:1-7). It was springtime in 40 AD.
In this small town in Lycaonia, they took as their headquarters the house of Eunice, a pious Jewish woman married to a Greek, whose hospitality was more than rewarded. In fact, of the whole city, the field that best received the seed of the Gospel was her son Timothy.
Prepared for grace with a thorough religious education (cf. II Tim 1:5), he was a fertile meadow for the Good News. And St. Paul, watering him with the water of Baptism, made the dwelling place of the Trinity fertile.
However, the Apostle was not to be given the joy of seeing the first shoots of the seed. On the verge of being worshipped in that city because of a miracle, he was almost stoned for refusing to be just another god in the Lycaonian pantheon. And so he left it to God to continue the book he had only just begun: this twelve-year-old Timothy.
From son to brother
About eight years later, when the Apostle was back in the region, he saw the fruits of his labors.
His labors. Not only that: he also found support for the new anguish that afflicted him. From that day on, two heralds of the Gospel would accompany St. Paul: Silas and Timothy (cf. Acts 15:40; 16:3).
Timothy, the “true son in the faith” (I Tim 1:2), now became “God’s brother and minister in the Gospel” (I Thess 3:2).
Thus began the golden age of his life. That of the gold refined in the crucible of living with the master and in the crucible of struggles. He left his paternal home to follow his spiritual father through Phrygia, Galatia, Mysia, and Troas; Samothrace, Neapolis, and Philippi (cf. Acts 16:6-12). This was the rhythm of the apostolic battle that awaited him from now on. From town to town, from success to disappointment, from hope to struggle, there they went, the soldiers of the Lord.
In the meantime, moral suffering was invigorating Timothy even more than bodily fatigue. In Philippi, Paul and Silas were imprisoned for casting out a demon; Timothy, however, remained outside the chains… (cf. Acts 16:23-24). Why shouldn’t he also deserve the honor of handcuffs and flogging?
God was drawing this epic, but now with red hot tears of blood from his soul: with loneliness.
Apostle out of the Apostle’s hands
This was not the only time St. Timothy was deprived of his inseparable friend. Many were the missions he undertook alone: he was sent to Macedonia for a delicate task (cf. I Thess 3:2), he brought the first of the letters to the Corinthians (cf. I Cor 4:17), he went to the aid of the Philippians (cf. Phil 2:19).
The great Apostle to the Gentiles, however, only parted company with his beloved disciple when circumstances didn’t allow him to do otherwise: “Since we could wait no longer,” he would write nostalgically, “we decided to stay alone in Athens, and send Timothy to you” (1 Thess 3:1-2). He urged the Corinthians to send him without delay: “Come to me, for I am waiting for you” (1 Cor 16:11)… Just before his martyrdom, he would implore his son in the faith directly: “Come to me as soon as possible” (2 Tim 4:9).
United in activity, they were even more so in charity. This is what Paul says about Timothy: “my co-worker” (Rom 16:21), “dear son” (II Tim 1:2), “man of God” (I Tim 6:11), “brother Timothy” (Col 1:1), “the good soldier of Jesus Christ” (II Tim 2:3) who “works just as I do in the Lord’s work” (I Cor 16:10).
Like St. Paul… He was therefore the “alter ego”, the “other me” of the great St. Paul. “There is no one like him,” he would add in the Epistle to the Philippians, ”so united with me in feeling, that with such sincere affection, he takes an interest in you. […] You know his unwavering faithfulness: like a son to his father, he devotes himself with me to the service of the Gospel” (Phil 2:20, 22).
He was the respite of the indefatigable, the refreshment of that fiery soul, the apostle who came from the hands of the Apostle.
The ultimate proof of love
The only time Timothy’s absence from the Acts of the Apostles surprises us is during St. Paul’s last journey. He follows his spiritual father on the ascent to the Holy Land; however, we know nothing of the omnipresent disciple now. He is not mentioned with Paul in Jerusalem, Caesarea, or even on the way to Rome. What is certain is that he appears as the co-author of the letters from the Roman prison: to the Philippians, the second to the Corinthians, to Philemon, thus making up the six letters he signed with St. Paul.
Symptomatic: after a period of discretion, the apprentice began to “co-exercise” the founder’s functions. It was a sign that he had already been fully trained by living with him and imitating him in everything: “You,” Paul would write to the perfect disciple, “have applied yourself to following me closely in my teaching, in my way of life, in my plans, in my faith, in my patience, in my charity, in my steadfastness, in my persecutions, in the trials that have come upon me” (II Tim 3:10-11).
It was then time for the ultimate mission. Moved by prophecies about Timothy’s vocation (cf. I Tim 1:18), St. Paul had already elevated him to the episcopal rank (cf. II Tim 1:6). Now he bequeathed him the most cherished portion of his inheritance: the church of Ephesus.
Imprisoned bishop
The famous city of antiquity, nestled by the Aegean Sea, was destined for greater glory in the Christian era. Our Lady, retiring from old Zion, would settle in this “heart of the disciples’ apostolate field” which was Ephesus.
She lived there with St. John from the beginning of the anti-Christian persecutions in Jerusalem until the end of her earthly life. It was there that Timothy met her when he accompanied the Apostle for three years of preaching (cf. Acts 20:31). From there she left for heaven. From there the first shots of Marian’s devotion spread. There, centuries later, she would be solemnly proclaimed as the Virgin Mother of God.
Amid these Marian accolades, the Ephesians would not lack the greatest of all honors: struggle, both inside and outside the community. Outside, paganism blasphemed the city’s notorious temple, persecuting those who opposed it with the cry: “Long live the Artemis of the Ephesians!” (Acts 19:28). Inside, there were plenty of “so-called teachers of the Law” (1 Tim 1:7) who stirred up trouble in Paul’s fields.
An internal and external battle, a worthy mission for St. Timothy. Not without reason, the master warned him: “Here is my advice to you, my son Timothy: […] fight the good fight” (1 Tim 1:18).
We know nothing of the Bishop’s first battles, except for the hatred he aroused. And, because of the extent of it, the painful blows he struck. In fact, during the period between St. Paul’s two imprisonments in Rome, Timothy was arrested and released (cf. Heb 13:23).
Away from his father, the Lord would not fail to compose the biography of his Timothy. In these paragraphs, he would do so through the feather of St. Paul.
Correspondence with his father
The close contact between the two continued through letters. However, we are left with only two letters addressed to his disciple.
The first letter outlines the ideal bishop and the standards with which he should shepherd his flock: “The bishop must be blameless, married only once, sober, prudent, orderly in his conduct, hospitable, able to teach” (1 Tim 3:2). Specifically to Timothy, St. Paul commands him to be respectful despite his young age of forty (cf. 1 Tim 4:12).
The second epistle, however, is more intimate and, we might almost say, confidential. It is often considered to be St. Paul’s testament. In it, the Apostle spills the secrets of his heart, whispering through the often thunderous plume: “I remember you always in my prayers, night and day. When I think of your tears, I long to see you and be filled with joy” (II Tim 1:3-4).
What were those tears? Certainly those of an unspeakable longing for the time when he felt in himself that springtime atmosphere of the early days of his vocation. “I urge you,” his father wrote, ‘to rekindle the flame of God’s gift’ (II Tim 1:6).
Only this could console and sustain the disciple from the moment he would no longer read those letters so strongly stamped on the parchment. Shortly afterward, his father and founder would ascend far beyond the third heaven (cf. II Cor 12:2)… without returning.
God was preparing the last stanza of his epic. Always on crooked lines.
Mary’s martyr
The world seemed empty because of Paul’s absence. Only his last piece of advice – “rekindle the flame” – was filling the void. It was perhaps on an occasion when he was meditating on it that a large scroll arrived in Timothy’s hands from the Isle of Patmos. St. John was sending him a book full of mysteries, which posterity would call the Apocalypse. In the manuscript, there were letters to each of the Angels of the seven churches of Asia. “Angel” here, like so many other apocalyptic expressions, has more than one meaning, and the one that certainly interested Timothy the most was that of Bishop. Especially when he realized that the first missive was addressed to the Angel – or Bishop – of Ephesus.
What a surprise! It sounded like the last words of St. Paul: “To the Angel of the church in Ephesus, write: […] I know your works, your labor, and your patience […]. You have persevered, you have suffered for my name and you have not lost heart. But I hold it against you that your first love has grown cold” (Rev 2:1, 3-4).
No, he wouldn’t allow himself to hear such an admonition from the Divine Judge again when he arrived in the afterlife. He redoubled his enthusiasm, inflamed his dedication even more, and multiplied his daring.
It is said that on January 22nd of the year 97, the vehemence of this fire, so new and so old, broke through the thresholds of his heart. It was a festive day for the Ephesians. Drunk on paganism and driven mad by pride, they displayed the idol of Artemis.
This goddess was a satanic forgery, a filthy counterfeit of the Virgin Mother of God. A sui generis deity, she was worshipped as the goddess of virginity and motherhood; both a virgin and the steward of fertility. Her shameless statue must have made Timothy’s soul vibrate with indignation. Certainly moved by the memory of Mary Most Holy, whom he had met in that city, he scolded the idolaters.
The reaction was hatred! They threw themselves on the Bishop and, with sticks and stones, raised him to the exalted status of martyr. The first of them, perhaps, to have the honor of shedding his blood for Mary.
God put an end to Timothy’s earthly story. In other words, he drew the cross on it.
“You are a letter from Christ”
Son and brother of St. Paul, apostle formed by the Apostle, prototype of the Bishops, martyr of inception and Marian devotion. So much greatness is immersed in the mists of his life, which only came to us because God revealed it!
This greatness came essentially from a disposition of the Saint’s soul: to offer his soul to God like a clean, pure book, empty of self. On the fine pages of unpretentiousness, the Divine Artist wrote an unimaginable epic, a true myth – a true myth! – that will be projected into eternity, a hymn of perpetual glory to the Creator.
St. Paul reminds us of this in an epistle also signed by St. Timothy: “You are a letter from Christ, written […] not on tablets of stone but on tablets of flesh, that is, in your hearts” (II Cor 3:3).
Text taken from Heralds of the Gospel Magazine no. 277, January 2025. By Ângelo Francisco Neto Martins.
Compiled by Dominic Joseph
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