II Thessalonians 3:6-13 is part of a larger section, 3:6-16, with the theme of exhortation. It expands upon the exhortation in I Thessalonians 5:14, in which Paul and his team advise the leadership to admonish the idlers while be patient. Paul and his team remind their readers that they have learned how they ought to live and to please God by the example the team has set for them (I Thessalonians 4:1).
This passage becomes the third example of exhortations to the Thessalonian community about the role of working in Christian congregational discipline.[1] The first two examples come from I Thessalonians, and they prepare the way for the more pointed remarks of II Thessalonians 3:6-13.
First, in 1 Thessalonians 2:9, Paul, Silvanus and Timothy write, “You remember our labor and toil, brothers and sisters; we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you while we proclaimed to you the gospel of God.” Here we see that Paul’s conception of his own work (as a tentmaker, Acts 18:3) is a part of his self-perception as an apostle. He does not peddle his message for money, like so many sophists of his day and ours. He does not even accept free sustenance of food and drink while preaching the gospel in the cities of Asia Minor. Rather, he demonstrates his love for his new converts by not burdening their material resources.
Second, in 1 Thessalonians 4:9-12, the authors again raise the issue of proper industriousness in the community, but here they do not use themselves as a model for imitation. Instead, they appeal to the love-commandment, which guides all ethical decisions in Pauline ecclesiology. In this section, the authors are responding to some inquiry about the limits of agape in the Thessalonian community — we can infer this by the formula, “concerning love of the brothers and sisters, you do not need to have anyone write to you” (1 Thessalonians 4:9; cf. 1 Corinthians 7:1; 8:1). The community may have wondered whether the love-commandment included the mandate to support financially those who did not want to work. Alternatively, they may have been involved in commerce with outsiders of questionable moral rectitude, so that the exhortation toward self-sufficiency was simultaneously a push for purity in the community. In response to these inferred concerns, the authors encourage the Thessalonians “to aspire to live quietly, to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we directed you” (4:11). Furthermore, in 5:14, the authors entreat them to “admonish the idlers” (ataktouV), demonstrating that they considered this lack of industry a problem worth nipping in the bud.
II Thessalonians 3:6 contains the statement of the problem Paul and his team with some in this community. The seemingly little problem of idleness has increased in its seriousness and its danger to the community. 6 Now we command you, beloved, referring to the whole church rather than just its leaders, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, as founders of the community we are the only ones who have the right to make such a command, to keep away from believers who are living (περιπατοῦντος) in idleness (ἀτάκτως, or laziness and disorderliness) and not according to the tradition that they received from us. The author does not give a reason for the practice.
In this passage, Paul begins the conclusion of his second letter to the Christian community at Thessalonica. Much in tone and substance has changed in the passage of time between the first and second epistles. Paul's encouragement at the positive reports of the Thessalonians' faithfulness in the first letter has turned to concern regarding the idleness of some in the community. They have misunderstood Paul's early and unbridled missionary passion. It is apparent that due to Paul's enthusiastic certainty concerning the proximity of the coming day of the Lord (I Thessalonians 5), many believers questioned the use of working for a living at all.
Having addressed the panic and fear that had assaulted some Christians who were convinced by the rumors, Paul now turns to another related result - idleness. There is a definite military sound behind Paul's "commanding" language. It is likely that these misinformed believers also used their identity as Christians - chosen ones of the coming Lord - to envision themselves as "above" menial labor. He simply means he did not depend wholly on others for his livelihood.
Some persons in the community had reworked and reshaped Paul's teaching (his "tradition"), most probably by a variety of contemporary first century perspectives. There were several philosophic traditions that praised the blessings of leisure. For example, the philosophy of Epicurus (4th-3rd century B.C.), stressing tranquility and personal happiness, still held its sway in the empire of the first century (see Acts 17). While there is much that would distinguish the formal Epicurean from the Christian, hybrid forms of the varying philosophical and cultic expressions were common. Thessalonica was at the midpoint of the Egnatian Way, the main thoroughfare to Rome from the Eastern provinces. Whatever philosophical fad or tradition of the empire that was in vogue certainly would find a home in the cities along such a route. Some in the community may have heard stories of the first disciples leaving their work to follow Jesus. Hence, the rejection of a job might have been seen as an imitation of an earlier Christian tradition: Jesus called his disciples to leave their work and follow him (Mark 1:17)! Whatever the antecedent, what was implied was that work was not part of the faithful response to Jesus Christ, nor a proper way to prepare for the Parousia. When Paul had written that Christ was coming soon in the first letter, he had primarily meant this as a word of comfort amid hardship. However, some people reinterpreted his confidence about the end time to promote an attitude of idle waiting for the second coming. Therefore, at the end of the second letter, Paul reconsiders what it means to live faithfully in the interim between resurrection and the Parousia. He challenges his readers, both historic and contemporary, to do the same. What Paul has heard is that there are some who are requesting and receiving handouts of food from those who are working and who may or may not have extra provisions. It is almost certain that those requesting handouts are not the poor and needy but those who are claiming a higher status of faithfulness and therefore claiming positions of leadership. Paul calls them busybodies (v. 11), folks with too much time on their hands. Of course, the so-called busybodies might claim in defense their leisure as a sign of their philosophical and theological sophistication.
Thus, this passage reveals a third attempt within the correspondence to the Thessalonians to deal with the situation, but at this point the problem has grown worse. The authors clearly address the problem with the “believers who are living in idleness” (II Thessalonians 3:6), namely, as we will soon discuss, those who are “mere busybodies, not doing any work” (3:11). The text implies that this lack of industry is a voluntary decision that they must reverse.
II Thessalonians 3: 7-10 point the prescription of the problem of idleness. 7 For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us, rather than those who presume leadership. Imitation was a form of honor and recognition of the teacher/founder of a school or community. For someone not to follow Paul's example was tantamount to dishonoring him. In dishonoring Paul, one was dishonoring what he preached. By dishonoring what Paul preached, one was dishonoring Christ. Here was the example Paul and his missionary team set: we were not idle when we were with you, 8 and we did not eat anyone’s bread without paying for it, and thus did not expect gifts and were not freeloaders. The concept of “eating someone’s bread” was a Semitic idiom for “earning a living,” as located especially in Genesis 3:19, where Adam is told, “By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread.”[2] This reference to a commonly accepted maxim manifests the authors’ emphasis on the “tradition” that the Thessalonians received from them (3:6). But with toil and labor we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you. Paul mentioned this in the first letter to the Thessalonians (2:9), as well as in his first letter to the Corinthians (I Corinthians 9:6-18). In I Corinthians, however, the concern is with defending his apostleship and his rights as one who proclaims the gospel.9 This was not because we as founders of the church do not have that right or apostolic authority (ἐξουσίαν) to demand a form of payment in kind, but in order to give you an example to imitate we labored for our daily bread. Paul could have invoked apostolic authority to ask for food. Paul was adamant that he would use this authority for exactly the opposite purpose in laboring for his own bread, in order that he might be an example for “orderly” and self-sufficient conduct. The authors build on their admonitions from their previous letter. Just as before, they remind the Thessalonians of their own work while they were present with them, but in this letter, they add a strong claim to authority. The authors claim that they possessed, as apostles, an authority that warranted material support from the Thessalonian community, but they did not make use of that right. A useful parallel can be made with the situation in 1 Corinthians 9, where Paul argues, “If we have sown spiritual good among you, is it too much if we reap your material benefits? ... Nevertheless, we have not made use of this right, but we endure anything rather than put an obstacle in the way of the gospel of Christ” (1 Corinthians 9:11-12).
10 For even when we were with you, we gave you this command: Anyone unwilling to work should not eat. Here is a rule for Christian work. There are mixed reviews about the origins of the proverb-like rule that Paul sates here. Some scholars suggest that it is a traditional Jewish saying, while others claim it derives from an established Greek provenance. He invokes the name of "the Lord Jesus Christ" to add undeniable weight and authority to his words. Paul does not invoke this rule anywhere else in the writings we have from him. Captain John Smith records his stern words to the idle Cavaliers of the Jamestown colony, using these words.
You see now that power rests wholly in myself: you must obey this now for a Law, that he that will not work shall not eat (except by sickness he be disabled) for the labors of 30 or 40 honest and industrious men shall not be consumed to maintain a hundred and fifty idle loiterers. And though you presume the authority here is but a shadow, and that I dare not touch the lives of any but my own must answer it: the Letters patents shall each week be read to you, whose Contents will tell you the contrary. I would wish you therefore without contempt seek to observe these orders set down, for there are now no more Councilors to protect you, nor curb my endeavors. Therefore he that offends, let him assuredly expect his due punishment.[3]
11 For we hear that some of you are living (περιπατοῦντας) in idleness (ἀτάκτως), mere busybodies (περιεργαζομένους), possibly referring to someone who appears to be working but not getting anything done, or even a micromanager or meddler, not doing any work (ἐργαζομένους), or in order to maintain the wordplay in Greek, “not keeping busy.” Even better rendering would be “they aren’t busy with anything except being busybodies,” which captures the spirit and semantics of the Greek text. Imaging a modern workspace, we might think of one who looks busy when the boss is around (a “poseur”), or someone who flits about a workspace commenting on or trying to participate in the work of everyone else. Both traits could exist in the same person, of course. The idlers were interfering in the business of others. 12 Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ, focusing on the positive result of the exhortation to work, to do their work quietly (ἡσυχίας), making it their goal as Paul had earlier ordered them in person, with the benefit that they will win respect from those outside the church and not having to depend on anyone else for what they need (I Thessalonians 4:11-2) and to earn their own living as earlier Paul urged in person (I Thessalonians 4:11 as well as in this passage). Paul's words here are a diatribe against the privileged few who were taking advantage of those who did labor. The church in Thessalonica is not only supposed to imitate Paul’s example of labor but also their words. These words strongly echo the themes of this passage. As a loving community, extending help to those in physical need is an obvious embodiment of that love. However, another dimension of that love is to recognize that we are agents of our lives. We have no right to what other people of earned. We certainly have no right to take advantage of their compassion, goodness, generosity, and decency. I do not want to minimize the importance of the advice Paul offers regarding our responsibility to work as part of our Christian witness in the world. Paul urges the Christian community then and now to maintain a normal lifestyle, being good citizens, helpful neighbors, committed spouses and parents, quiet and controlled believers. 13Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right (καλοποιοῦντες), thus acting responsibly, in order and in line with the tradition that had been handed down. Paul calls his community to a common-sense rightness of conduct and personal responsibility. The advice is so general that it can apply both to this particular situation and to the whole of Christian life. Note their continued attempts to bring their excitable, idle-handed brothers and sisters back into the fold.
Hence, at the close of the letter, Paul reasserts his authority. He calls for hard-working calm in the process of God's delivering the new age, judges those who claim any special privilege, dismisses the thinking of anyone who has been swept up in the cultural fads of the first century and admonishes those of high status who have too much time on their hands to return to their common sense. Paul also reminds those who have maintained the proper decorum of faithfulness not to regard those who are idle as enemies. Rather, those who follow Paul's tradition must set the example of living responsibly and faithfully so that, in time, those who have been "ashamed" might be one again.
One may wonder why this lengthy and adamant ethical exhortation concludes this letter to the Thessalonians. An answer to this question may lie in the realm of eschatology. While Paul may have written I Thessalonians to encourage and provoke apocalyptic fervor in a church apathetic about the coming day of the Lord, the purpose of II Thessalonians may be to calm down the ecstasy that such fervor might produce. If the “disorder” of such excitement is the ultimate source of the “idleness” of which this passage speaks, this letter has more to say about both eschatology and ethics than simply “keep awake and be sober” (I Thessalonians 5). Paul now supports ethical commands for responsible actions in the face of the disorder and idleness that too sharp a sense of the future might create. While II Thessalonians knows the day of the Lord is to come, it also underscores the responsibility that the church has in living together in unity and sufficiency in the present, working together, not in idleness, in “doing what is right” (II Thessalonians 3:13) for “the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ” (II Thessalonians 3:5).
I do not minimize the issue Paul raises here. For whatever their reason, some people in this Christian community had become idle. They were busy at being busybodies. They were working hard at meddling in the work of others. Such idleness does not seem to be one of the bigger sins. Not only that, but the antidote Paul offers is no big deal either. The antidote in this passage is work, being a good citizen, and doing the right thing. Given the weighty matters Paul considers in his letters, his advice here seems common and small.
Big problems arise from small problems;
The wise man takes care of all his small problems,
Thus he has no problems.
—Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching, Chapter 63
While not an absolute truth, this bit of wisdom is worth pondering. I hope you will do so with me. A book that has been meaningful to my spiritual journey is “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff.” I get the point. We often let trivial matters consume us to the point where we ignore the things that matter most. Yet, what shows up in the small stuff may well reveal much larger issues.
Let us consider a crime theory. James Q. Wilson of the Harvard Government Department coined the “Broken Window” theory of crime prevention. Trivial things matter, the Wilson theory goes, especially when it comes to infractions of public order. If a broken pane of glass goes unrepaired, people will shatter other panes, and then doors will be jimmied up and down the street. If graffiti on a train goes unremoved, more graffiti will follow, and so will robberies in the cars and stations. No tolerance for petty lawbreaking leads to fewer incidents of major lawbreaking. This “Broken Window Theory” has inspired police departments in New York and other urban areas to crack down on the small stuff to keep out the big stuff.
In his book Leadership, former New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani tells of how he applied the Broken Window Theory to crime. In the process, the city reduced murders from 2000 a year to fewer than 600. He started with “Squeegee guys” — the annoying people who used to run up to your car when you were sitting at a traffic light, wash your window with filthy water and rags, and then demand payment. Giuliani had them arrested for jaywalking and — surprise, surprise — a huge percentage of them turned out to be felons.
It turns out that murderers and muggers tend to break a lot of little laws, too. Therefore, when you crack down on the little infractions — when you fix the broken windows — you end up catching criminals that otherwise would have gotten away. A critic of Giuliani said that arresting subway turnstile jumpers was a waste of police effort when they should be chasing drug pushers. Well, guess what? They discovered that drug pushers were part of the turnstile-jumping crowd.
Attacking small and petty problems is rarely a waste of time, according to Broken Window Theory. Instead, it helps you to manage the serious issues, and prevent the condition of your building — or your city — or your church -- or your self — from spiraling out of control.
We might apply this principle to spiritual life as well. Take the matter of sloth. It made the list of seven deadly sins. It seems like such a small matter. Yet, as Benjamin Franklin put it, “Trouble springs from idleness, and grievous toil from needless ease.” Our pride will lead us to secure our place in the world. We are the foundation of our lives, which leads to our anxious striving to secure the place we envision for ourselves in the world, usually some form of financial security or professional success. The other side of this anxious striving we find in the self-promotion and self-glorification of pride is the self-denial and self-renunciation of sloth. Both sins turn away from finding our worth, meaning, and purpose through our participation in God.[4] The desert fathers and mothers could refer to the demon of acedia, the noonday demon, as the sin that causes the most serious trouble of all sins. Acedia is a word of Greek origin that means, literally, “without care.” In the Latin tradition of the seven deadly sins, it comes down to us as tristitia or otiositas, sadness or idleness. But citing synonyms and translations will not do. For the monastic tradition, acedia or sloth is a complex spiritual state that defies simple definition. It describes a lassitude and despair that overwhelms spiritual striving. ... Medieval English writers often speak of acedia as wanhope, a waning of confidence in the efficacy and importance of prayer. Dante, on the fourth ledge of purgatory, describes those afflicted by acedia as suffering from lento amore, a slow love that cannot motivate and uplift, leaving the soul stagnant, unable to move under the heavy burden of sin. Across these different descriptions, a common picture emerges. The noonday devil tempts us into a state of spiritual despair and sadness that drains us of our Christian hope.[5] The reality is that we often think of sloth as a harmless form of physical laziness. Sloth is not simply laziness. Sloth is an inability to concentrate on serious matters. A close ally of sloth is despair. It neglects duty and refuses joy in what we do. Sloth and acedia refuse to see the grace in barren places. They cannot recognize the grace in good things. Persons who surrender to sloth and acedia are unable to rejoice in the gift of life and the beauty of the world God has created.[6]
Take the matter of what we say about each other. One cannot talk about nothing forever, so the talk finally degenerates into small rap about people. Some wonderful advice comes to us from the ancient Orient. We should test our words to see if they can pass through three golden gates:
1) Is it true?
2) Is it necessary? and
3) Is it kind?
All too often, how I handle the unimportant things in relationships and family reveal much larger issues. How about you?
Somewhere in our lives, we have important time decisions to make, and if we do not repair the broken windows, that is, clean up the nonproductive, ill-spent activities, the whole structure of our lives is going to crash and burn.
This catastrophe theory will emerge in broken relationships, a soured marriage, a barren spiritual life and a lack of time to do things that nurture both yourself, your family and community. “Brothers and sisters,” Paul concludes, “do not be weary in doing what is right” (3:13).
Where are the broken windows? What needs repair in your life? What have you been meaning to address in your life that for some reason you still have not gotten around to? What would a friend, a brother, or sister, or parent, or spouse, say are the broken windows in your life? Other people can often see the damage better than we can.
When we crack down on the small problems to keep out the big problems, we are doing our work quietly and faithfully and well. When we fix our broken windows so that our personal spiritual structure will remain attractive and healthy and strong, we are following Paul’s advice to “not be weary in doing what is right.”
[1] (Abraham J. Malherbe, The Letters to the Thessalonians [AB 32; New York: Doubleday, 2000], 456).
[2] (Earl J. Richard, First and Second Thessalonians [Sacra Pagina; Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 1995], 380).
[3] —Captain John Smith from the Colonial Williamsburg website. history.org. Retrieved May 23, 2019.
[4] Inspired by Shannon Craigo-Snell, “Pride and Sloth,” Presbyterian Outlook, March 2, 2015.
[5] Evagrius of Pontus, a fourth-century monk. R.R. Reno, Fighting the Noonday Devil (Eerdmans, 2011), excerpted in First Things, August/September 2003. firstthings.com. Retrieved May 23, 2019.
[6] --Kathleen Norris, "A case of soul-weariness: Plain old sloth," The Christian Century, January 11, 2003, 8-9.
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