St. Timothy Sunday-2026
Isaiah 42:1-7
Psalm 30:1-5
2 Timothy 1:1–8
John 10:1–10
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
This is the day when we celebrate our patron saint, Timothy. And the great thing about St. Timothy is . . . well, what do we really know about him? We mainly know him because he received a couple of letters. 1st Timothy, and then—hold onto your hats—2nd Timothy. Okay, we know a little more than that. Most importantly, we know that he was a companion to St. Paul. And that counts for a lot. Because we know from our own lives that having companions, friends, supporters, that is what makes great figures able to do great things.
Paul writes that no one was more helpful to him than Timothy. And he was with Paul when he wrote some of his most important letters. Around the year 64, Paul left Timothy in Ephesus, to become Bishop of the church there. 30 years later, when Timothy was around 80 years old, he interrupted a procession in honor of the pagan goddess Diana, and then . . . well that leads me to the next thing I want to talk about.
As you can see, on St. Timothy Sunday, we surround ourselves with the color red. If you look on the front of your bulletin, you’ll see red. And all the paraments are red, as is this chasuble. And I encouraged you to wear red to mark the day. So why all the red? Well, we use two colors to honor saints in the church. Typically, we use white when they died a natural death. And we use red when they were killed or martyred for their faith.
When Timothy broke up that pagan procession by preaching the gospel, he was beaten to death with clubs and stones. And, again, if you look at the logo on the cover of your bulletin, you’ll see the club and stones. You’ll also see them on the cushion where the priest kneels. And you’ll see this logo at the top of our email newsletter each time. The red background with the club and stones is the sigil of St. Timothy. The red tells you he was martyred, and the attributes of stones and a club tell you how he died.
Which might naturally lead you to ask, what’s with all the blood and violence and death when we’re gathered on what should be a happy occasion? Like if we’re not careful, we’ll end up celebrating suffering and death. And, well, if you think about it, that’s kind of how we are. We’ve always been this way. From the medieval public executions, to the unthinkable violence of the Protestant Reformation, and every genocide throughout history. We see it today with people cheering over the death of Charlie Kirk and Renee’ Good. Like it or not, we are people who celebrate death and suffering, as long as it happens to the “other side.”
But here’s the thing. If you take a close look at the statues on our Altar—which I encourage you to do—you’ll see that the things that stand out in the statues of Timothy and Cecilia are the very things that killed them. With Timothy, he’s got a silver club dangling off his arm, as he stands on a pile of stones. In the case of Cecilia, she joyfully plays her violin while the silver sword from her beheading glistens at her feet.
This is a common feature of iconography. Many of the saints of the Church can be identified by attributes of the very things that killed them. St. Andrew and his X shaped cross, St. Catherine and the broken wheel, St. Lawrence and a grill, St. Sebastian and the arrows. The very things that you would expect to be hidden away in shame are brought to the forefront. Their shame becomes their glory. In essence, we do this to show that the saints have victory over the things that the world calls powerful. And the message of defiance is passed on to us: We must not cower from the things that seek to destroy us. We must not be compliant in the face of evil.
And here’s a current example. Our government has sent murderous thugs into an American city where our fellow citizens have been beaten, assaulted, kidnapped, and in at least two cases murdered in cold blood. Our natural tendency is to look away, or to make excuses. To have thoughts like, “I’m sure they had it coming,” or even, “This is what happens when you break the law.” But in case you haven’t made the connection by now, St. Timothy—the Bishop of Ephesus—was breaking the law when he stopped that pagan procession by preaching the gospel, and he was beaten to death with clubs and rocks. And I have no doubt that some patriotic Ephesians said, “Well, he had it coming. He should have stayed home and complied.
We can’t go on like this as a nation. I have clergy friends in Minneapolis who were arrested for protesting at the Minneapolis airport on Friday. And I can tell you if this were going on in my city, I would be among them. Because we can’t go on like this. Our own elected government, beating and murdering Americans because some people don’t like their words and signs goes against everything Jesus preached, and everything our country was founded on. And we have the sigil of St. Timothy to remind us where this path leads. Clubs and stones with a blood red background, embroidered on the priest’s kneeler. We can’t go on like this.
The church must make a stand. As Bishop Jolly recently said, “Not because we are fearless, but because God is faithful.” Not because of us, but because of God. The God who loves every single person, beaten and executed in the name of politics and division. There is no us and them. There is only other beloved children of God. Redeemed by the blood of Jesus, and called into community to announce good news in the face of violence and hatred.
And here is an example where we see most clearly what I have been talking about: in the symbol of the cross itself, on which the Son of God gave up his life. 2,000 years ago the cross was considered the ultimate symbol of shame. The most agonizing and humiliating way to be put to death. The loud-and-clear announcement that the empire was in charge, and people were insignificant obstacles to political goals. No one in their right mind would glorify this humiliating sign of defeat. No ordinary religious movement would be stupid enough to exalt the instrument of torture on which their leader died.
But that’s what makes faith in Jesus different from every other religion that ever existed. Where others would hide and diminish the defeat of death at the hands of oppressors, death is not the last word for us. We give the cross a place of prominence on our Altars and in our lives. Because it is through the death and resurrection of Jesus that we are reminded that our story is still being written.
As we honor St. Timothy today, we can see that what matters is not what Timothy did, but what God has done. For Timothy, for me and you, and for every person who dies at the hands of an angry mob or a brutal regime. “Not because we are fearless, but because God is faithful.” I plead with you today to stand up against violence and bloodshed, because we cannot go on like this. As St. Timothy took a stand for the gospel, may God inspire us to do the same.
Amen
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