Saint Titus

In that episode we see Titus doing quiet but very hard work: walking straight into a broken relationship, standing patiently among people who were angry and hurt, listening, calming them, and helping them trust each other again.

The Letter to the Galatians tells how Titus once went up to Jerusalem with Paul and Barnabas. At the time a fierce debate had broken out among the Church’s leaders over whether Gentile converts had to keep the Jewish law. Though he was Greek, Titus was not compelled to be circumcised. This took place in the late 40s of the first century.

Titus’s flesh-and-blood presence turned an abstract theological debate into something very concrete. Standing before the Apostles was not a theory about the law but a real brother: a man who believed in Christ, who prayed with them, shared their meals, and was ready to give himself for their common mission.

He did not have to make himself a cultural copy of others to be accepted as a member of the household. The Savior’s grace had opened the door wide and given him his full place in the great family of the Church.

Titus was given a delicate task: to go as a messenger into the heart of the storm. Paul was eager to meet him in Troas to hear the news. Though a door for preaching had opened there, he could not rest because his brother had not come, so he left the work and crossed into Macedonia to look for him.

Scripture keeps no record of the conversations Titus patiently held on that journey. We do not know how he broached the subject, how many harsh words he had to swallow, or how long he waited for hearts to change. But the result makes one thing clear: he did not shirk a hard task to spare himself trouble.

Paul introduced the co-workers traveling with Titus and gave careful instructions that the relief money be handled openly, honorably in the sight of the Lord and of others, as if he foresaw the gossip that can arise when money gets mixed up with matters of faith. A whole community’s generosity had to be guarded with complete honesty, so that the trust of the poor, who had given their small coins, would never be betrayed.

For Titus, the communion of the Church took a very concrete form: donated coins carefully counted, passing from those who had enough into the hands of those in need. Those who do charity work or keep the parish accounts today can find an example in him: loving the poor is not just a passing burst of feeling, but also the duty of keeping clean hands and taking care with every figure.

The letter charges him to set in order what remained unfinished and to appoint elders in every town on the island. Ancient tradition regards him as the first bishop of the Church there.

The letter also pays close attention to the character of those who lead the community: not arrogant, not quick-tempered, not given to drink, not greedy for dishonest gain, but hospitable, loving what is good, self-controlled, upright, and holding firmly to sound teaching. Caring for a parish, it turns out, has always been bound up with concrete things like relationships between generations, family life and the duties of daily work, not just sermons from a high pulpit.

At the end of the letter, Titus is asked to join Paul in Nicopolis once someone else arrives to take over his work. The Second Letter to Timothy later mentions him going to Dalmatia. These scattered traces sketch a man always ready to set out when his mission called, never shrinking from hardship, never clinging too long to a familiar place.

In Vietnamese parish life, the name Titus is probably much rarer than Peter or Paul. But what he did is very familiar and still needed today: stepping in to settle a parish quarrel, rebuilding unity in a divided Catholic village, guarding trust in the community’s works of charity.

Many people remember Paul only for his stirring sermons and great letters. But if we read more slowly, we see behind those letters the quiet, weary footsteps of people like Titus, who crossed mountains and rivers to bring love and peace to their brothers and sisters.