哥林多前書講道集 第 11 章

'But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you, or by man's day;

yea, I judge not mine own self (for I know nothing against myself;

yet am I not hereby justified);

but he that judgeth me is the Lord.'

Along with the other evils, I know not how there crept into human nature the disease of officiousness and of untimely meddling;

which Christ also chastised when He said,

'Judge not, that ye be not judged';

which, unlike the rest of sins, has no pleasure in it at all, but only chastisement and punishment.

For indeed, though we ourselves are laden with countless evils, and bear beams upon our eyes, we become exact examiners of our neighbour's sins, which differ nothing from a mote;

just as this also was happening in Corinth.

For they mocked and cast out devout men, dear to God, on account of their want of eloquence, while they approved those laden with countless evils, on account of their fluency of tongue.

Then, like judges presiding on the bench, they rashly passed such verdicts as these:

'This man is worthy; this one is better than that one;

and this one is inferior to that, and that one better than this';

and forsaking the lamenting of their own evils, they became judges of others, and thereby kindled grievous wars once more.

He therefore, doing away with this disease, see how prudently he corrects them.

For since he had said, 'Moreover it is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful,' and this seemed to give them occasion to judge and scrutinise each man's life,

and this was aggravating the faction;

in order that they might not suffer this, he led them away from such wrangling, saying:

'But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you';

again advancing the discourse in his own person.

But what does he mean by, 'With me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you, or by man's day'? I count myself, he says, unworthy to be judged by you;

and why do I say by you? Even to be judged by any other person whatsoever.

But let no one condemn Paul for arrogance, if he says that no one among men is worthy to cast the vote concerning him.

For first of all, he says these things not for his own sake, but wishing to snatch others away from the oppressiveness of those men;

and then he did not stop the matter even at the Corinthians, but cast even himself out of this judgement, saying that to pass such verdicts is beyond his own competence;

and besides what has been said, one must also examine the subject on account of which these things were spoken;

for he knows in many places to speak also in a lofty manner.

But this is not of pride nor of arrogance, but of the best stewardship;

since even now he said these things not exalting himself, but restraining others, and hastening to invest the saints with dignity.

That he was of the very humble, hear what he says, bringing forward the testimony of his enemies about this into the midst:

that 'His bodily presence is weak, and his speech contemptible';

and again, 'And last of all, as unto one born out of due time, he was seen by me also.'

But nevertheless, this humble man—when the occasion called for it—observe to what height he raised the minds of the disciples, not teaching pride, but implanting a sound frame of mind.

For discoursing with these very men, he said:

'And if the world is judged by you, are ye unworthy to judge the smallest matters?'

For just as the Christian must be far from arrogance, so also far from flattery and from an ignoble frame of mind.

For neither, if someone should say, 'I count riches as nothing, but all things present are to me a shadow and a dream and children's playthings,' shall we charge him with arrogance;

since then we should be accusing Solomon too of arrogance, who philosophised about these things and said:

'Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity.'

But God forbid that we should call true wisdom by the name of arrogance.

So then, to despise these things is not madness, but greatness of soul—even though we see kings and rulers and potentates clinging fast to them;

but the poor man who lives wisely often looks down upon them, and on this account we shall call him not arrogant, but magnanimous;

just as, on the other hand, we shall not call the man who clings vehemently to them humble-minded and moderate, but weak and mean-spirited and slavish.

For indeed, if some son were to despise the things befitting his father, but to admire the things of slaves, we should not praise him as humble-minded, but reproach him as ignoble and slavish;

but we should have admired him for despising those things and making much account of his father's.

For it belongs to arrogance to reckon oneself better than one's fellow-servants;

but to pronounce the true verdict concerning affairs is not of arrogance, but of wisdom.

For this reason Paul also, not exalting himself, but humbling others and restraining those who were setting themselves up, and persuading them to be moderate, said:

'But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you, or by man's day.'

Do you see how he healed them too? For he who hears that Paul despises all men alike, and deems himself worthy to be judged by none, will no longer be pained thereafter, as though he alone had been cast out.

For if he had said 'by you' only, and then kept silence, this might perhaps have been enough to sting them, as being despised;

but as it is, by adding, 'Nor by man's day,' he brought consolation to the wound, giving them companions in the being despised.

But this very thing again he heals, saying:

'Yea, I judge not mine own self.'

See how what is said is not of arrogance;

he says that he himself suffices for such exactness of scrutiny.

Then, since this word too seemed to be that of one greatly exalting himself, this also he corrected, saying:

'Yet am I not hereby justified.'

What then? Must we not sit in judgement upon ourselves and our sins? Assuredly we must indeed do this, whenever we sin;

But Paul did not say this.

For 'I am conscious of nothing in myself,' he says.

What sin, then, was he going to judge, being conscious of nothing in himself? Yet he says that he is not thereby justified.

What, then, shall we say of those who have their conscience filled with countless wounds, who are conscious of no good thing in themselves but rather of the very opposite? And why is it that, even if he is conscious of nothing in himself, he is not thereby justified? Because it might happen that some sins had indeed been committed by him, and yet he himself did not recognize them as sins.

From this consider how great is the exactness of the coming judgment.

It is not, therefore, because he counted himself beyond reproach that he says he is unworthy to be judged by those men, but in order to silence those who were doing these things without reason.

Elsewhere, at any rate, even when the sins were not manifest, he permits others to judge, since the occasion demanded it.

For 'Why do you judge your brother?' he says;

'or you also, why do you despise your brother?' For you were not appointed to this, O man, to judge others, but to prove your own works.

Why, then, do you seize the rank of the Master? To judge belongs to Him, not to you.

'So then, do not judge anything before the time, until the Lord comes, who will both bring to light the hidden things of darkness and make manifest the counsels of the hearts;'

'and then each one's praise will come to him from God.'

What then? Ought not teachers to do this? They ought, indeed, in the case of manifest and acknowledged sins, and that too at the fitting time, and then with grief and inward pain, and not, as those men were then doing, out of vainglory and arrogance.

For here too he is not speaking of acknowledged sins, but of preferring this man to that, and of making comparisons of lives.

For He alone knows how to judge these things with exactness, He who is to judge our secret things, discerning what deserves greater and what lesser punishment and honor;

but we do these things according to whatever comes to hand.

For if, he says, in the very things wherein I myself have sinned, I know nothing clearly, how should I be worthy to cast a vote concerning others? And how, being unable to know my own matters with exactness, shall I be able to judge the matters of others? But if Paul experienced this, much more do we.

For he said these things, not to show himself beyond reproach, but to show that even if there were such a man among them who had sinned in nothing, not even he would be worthy to judge the lives of others;

and that if this man, who is conscious of nothing in himself, says he is accountable, much more are those who are conscious of countless things in themselves.

Having thus silenced those who were making such judgments, he now travails, straining to break forth in his indignation and come upon the fornicator;

and just as, when a storm is coming on, certain dark clouds run before it, and then, when the crash of thunder occurs and makes the whole sky one cloud, thereupon the rain bursts all at once upon the earth;

For though he might have dealt with the fornicator with much indignation, he does not do so, but first with fearful words he beats down the man's swelling pride;

since the thing that had happened was a double sin: fornication, and, worse than fornication, the not mourning over the transgression that had been committed.

For he does not so much mourn over the one who has sinned, as over the one who has sinned and does not repent.

'For I shall mourn,' he says, 'over many,' not simply over those who have sinned before, but over those who have not repented of the licentiousness and uncleanness which they practiced.

For he who, after sinning, has made use of repentance is worthy not of mourning but of blessings, having passed over to the choir of the righteous.

For 'declare your iniquities first, that you may be justified.'

But if, after sinning, he is shameless, he is not so much to be pitied for having fallen as for lying still after his fall.

And if not to repent of sins is grievous, then to be even puffed up over sins—of what punishment is that worthy!

For if he who exalts himself over his good deeds is unclean, he who suffers this over

sins—what pardon shall he obtain? Since, then, such was the fornicator, and had wrought his soul so bold and unyielding through sin, of necessity he first casts down his conceit.

And he does not put the charge first, lest he should become brazen, as though accused before all the rest;

nor yet last, lest the man should think that his own case was a mere side-issue;

but having first instilled much fear in him by his boldness of speech toward others, he then proceeds against him, in his rebuke of others already shaking down his madness beforehand.

For these very words—'I am conscious of nothing in myself, yet I am not thereby justified;'

and 'He who judges me is the Lord, who will both bring to light the hidden things of darkness and make manifest the counsels of the hearts'—it is not casually that he touches upon both that man and those who were rallying to his support while despising the saints.

For what of it, he says, if certain men appear outwardly virtuous and admirable? That Judge is not a judge of outward things only, but He also brings the secret things into the midst.

For two reasons, then, or rather three, our judgment is not exact:

one, that even if we are conscious of nothing in ourselves, we nevertheless need One who convicts our sins with exactness;

another, that the greater part of what happens escapes and is hidden from us;

and third, besides these, that many of the things done by others seem good to us, but do not proceed from a right intention.

What, then, do you say—that so-and-so has committed no sin, and that this one is better than that one? For this cannot be pronounced, not even concerning one who is conscious of nothing in himself;

for He who judges the secret things is the One who judges with exactness.

Behold, at any rate: neither am I conscious of anything in myself;

yet not even so am I justified;

that is, I am not acquitted of the accountings nor of the accusations.

For he does not say this, that 'I am not ranked among the righteous,' but that 'I am not clean from sin.'

'For he who has died has been justified from sin.'

And we do many good things, indeed, but not from a right intention.

For we praise many, not wishing to make those men illustrious, but to sting others through them.

And the thing done is good (for he who acts rightly is praised), but the intention is corrupted;

for it proceeds from a satanic disposition.

For not rejoicing with the brother, but desiring to cast down the other, has someone often done this.

Again, someone has committed a great sin;

another, wishing to trip him up, says that he has done nothing, and pretends to console him in his sinning, taking refuge in the common lot of nature;

but he does this not often to forgive, but wishing to make him more careless.

Again, one often rebukes, not so as to convict and admonish, but so as to parade and dramatize his neighbor's sin.

But the counsels themselves men do not know, while He who searches the hearts knows them exactly, and will then bring all those things into the midst.

'Who will bring to light the hidden things of darkness and make manifest the counsels of the hearts.'

When, therefore, even in being conscious of nothing in ourselves we cannot be clean of accusations, and when in the good we do, if we do it not from a right intention, we are liable to punishment—consider how great among men is the deception concerning judgments.

For all these things are not attainable to men, but only to the eye that never sleeps;

and though we deceive men, we shall never elude Him.

'Darkness is round about me, and walls;'

'who sees me?' For He who alone fashioned our hearts Himself knows all things, since darkness shall not be dark with Him.

And the sinner says well: 'Darkness is round about me, and walls.'

For unless there had been darkness in his mind, he would not, having cast out the fear of God, have acted with impunity.

For unless the ruling faculty be first darkened, sin cannot enter in with impunity.

'Who sees me?' For there is One who pierces even to soul and spirit, of joints and marrow;

but you do not see yourself, nor are you able to cut through the cloud;

but as though having a wall set round you on every side, thus you are unable to look up toward heaven.

For which sin do you wish us to examine first? And you will see that it comes about in just this way.

For just as robbers and burglars, whenever they wish to seize something precious, first put out the lamp and then do the deed,

so also in the case of those who sin, the corrupted reasoning does the same.

For indeed within us there is a light, the faculty of reason, ever burning.

But if the spirit of fornication, coming upon it violently and with great rush, quenches that flame, it forthwith darkens the soul and overpowers it, and straightway plunders all that was stored up within.

For whenever the soul is seized by a licentious desire, then that desire, like a cloud and mist over the eyes of the body, so overtaking beforehand the foresight of the understanding, permits it to see nothing further—neither precipice, nor Gehenna, nor fear; but, thenceforth tyrannized by that plot, the soul becomes easily overcome by sin.

And like a windowless wall raised before the eyes, it does not allow the ray of righteousness to shine upon the understanding, since the unseemly reasonings of desire have walled it in on every side;

and then thereafter the harlot woman confronts him, standing and appearing before his eyes, before his understanding, before his thoughts;

and just as those who are blind, even if they stand at high noon beneath the very midst of heaven, do not receive the light, because their eyes are shut fast;

so also do these: even if countless saving doctrines resound to them from every side, having their soul preoccupied by this passion, they stop up their hearing against all such words.

And those who have well taken the trial of it know this.

But may it never be that you should know it from the experience itself!

And it is not this sin alone that does these things, but every inordinate love.

For let us transfer, if it seems good, our discourse from the harlot woman to riches, and we shall see here too a thick and unremitting darkness.

For there, inasmuch as the beloved is but one and shut up in one place, the passion is not so vehement;

but in the case of riches, which appear everywhere—in silversmiths' shops, in inns, in goldsmiths' shops, in the houses of the wealthy—love blows vehemently.

For whenever the sick man beholds with desire lackeys prancing about in the marketplace, horses bearing gold trappings, men adorned with costly garments, much darkness is poured over him.

And what need is there to speak of houses and silversmiths' shops? For I think that such men, even if they see wealth in a painting or an image, are torn and enraged and driven mad;

so that from every side darkness gathers upon them.

For even if they look upon a royal image, they do not admire the beauty of the precious stones, nor the gold, nor the purple robe, but they waste away with longing.

And just as that lovesick man, even if he beholds an image of the woman he loves, is riveted to the lifeless thing;

so also this man, seeing a lifeless image of wealth, suffers the same thing, only more so, inasmuch as he is held fast by a more tyrannical passion;

and thereafter he must either remain at home, or, having ventured into the marketplace, retire homeward after receiving countless blows;

for many are the things that grieve his eyes.

And just as that man sees nothing other than the woman, so also this man runs past the poor and everything else, that he may not so much as receive any comfort;

but he fixes his eyes intently upon the wealthy, drawing from the sight of them much and vehement fire into his own soul.

For it is a fire that grievously devours him who falls into it; and even if Gehenna were not threatened nor punishment, these present things themselves were punishment—to be tormented without ceasing and never to find any end of the malady.

And these things alone would have sufficed to persuade a man to flee the sickness;

but nothing is worse than folly, which contrives to make a man cleave even to things that bring despondency and no gain whatsoever.

Wherefore I exhort you to cut out the passion at its beginning.

For just as a fever, when it first assails, does not greatly inflame the sick with thirst, but as it increases and raises its flame, makes them thirst incurably;

and even if one give them their fill of the drink by which one quenches it, yet it only kindles the furnace all the more;

so also it happens in the case of this passion;

if, when at the outset it is driving its way into our soul, we do not hinder it nor shut the doors, then having entered it thereafter works incurable harm in those who have received the malady.

For indeed both good things and evil, when they tarry longer within us, become more powerful.

And in all other matters as well one may see this coming to pass.

For a plant, when just now set in the earth, is easily plucked up;

but when it has rooted over a long time, no longer so, but it requires much leverage;

and a building, while newly put together, is easily overturned by those who disturb it;

but once it is well set, it gives much trouble to those who attempt to pull it down;

and a wild beast, having made its haunt in a place for a long time, is with difficulty driven out.

To those, then, who have not yet been held fast by the passion, I exhort them not to be captured;

for it is easier to guard against falling in than, having fallen in, to withdraw.

But to those who have been held fast and cast down, if they be willing to give themselves over to the physician, that is, to reason, I promise much hope of salvation by the grace of God.

For if they call to mind those who suffered and fell into the malady and yet recovered, they will have good hopes for deliverance from the sickness.

Who, then, fell into this malady and was easily delivered from it? That well-known Zacchaeus.

For what could be more covetous than a tax collector? Yet all at once he became a lover of wisdom and quenched the whole fire.

For indeed this man too was a tax collector, living in continual rapacity.

But this man too all at once stripped off the injury, and quenched the thirst, and passed over to a spiritual trafficking.

Considering these, then, and such as they, do not you either despair.

For if you are willing, you will be able speedily to recover.

And if you wish, according to the practice of physicians, we will also prescribe to you with exactness the things that must be done.

It is needful, then, before all else, to accomplish this: not to despair of nor to give up hope of one's own salvation;

and after this, to look not only upon the examples of those who succeeded, but also upon the sufferings of those who persisted in it.

For just as we called to mind Zacchaeus and Matthew, so also must we reckon with Judas, and Gehazi, and Achan, and Ahab, and Ananias, and Sapphira;

that through the former we may cast out despair, and through the latter we may cut off sloth, lest the soul become supine toward the exhortation of the things prescribed;

and that we may train ourselves to say what the Jews then said when they came to Peter:

"What must we do that we may be saved?" And let them hear what they must do.

What, then, must be done? To know the worthlessness of these things, and how wealth is a fugitive and thankless household slave, and how it wraps its possessors in countless evils;

and let us continually chant such words to them.

And just as physicians comfort the sick who ask for cold water, saying that they will provide it, and making excuses about a spring and a vessel and the right time and many such things (for if they refuse point-blank, they cause them to be maddened by their frenzy);

so also let us do toward the lovers of money;

and when they say, "We wish to grow rich," let us not straightway say that wealth is an evil, but let us assent, and say that we too wish this—yet at the fitting time, yet true wealth, yet the wealth that has undying pleasure, yet the wealth that is gathered for you and not for others, and often even for enemies;

and let us bring the discourse concerning the love of wisdom into the midst, and say that we do not bid you not to be rich, but not to be rich in an evil way;

for it is possible to be rich, but without covetousness, without rapine and violence and being ill spoken of by all.

And having first softened them by these words, let us not yet discourse concerning Gehenna;

for the sick man does not straightway endure such words.

Therefore let us frame all our discourse concerning these matters from present things, and let us say: Why do you wish to grow rich from covetousness? That the gold and silver may be laid up for others, but for you there be curses and

countless accusations? And that the man who has been defrauded be gnawed by the need of necessities, and lament, and draw down upon you countless accusers, and, when evening overtakes him, go about the marketplace, meeting all men in the narrow lanes, and being at a loss, and not even able to take courage concerning the night? For how could he thereafter sleep, gnawed by his belly, lying awake, besieged by hunger, though often there be frost and rain pouring down? And you indeed return washed from the bath, warmed by soft garments, glad and rejoicing, and running to a sumptuous supper made ready;

but that man, driven everywhere throughout the marketplace continually by the frost and the hunger, goes about stooping and stretching out his hands;

and not even daring, without fear, to address a few words for his necessary sustenance to the man who is filled and at his ease, but often, being reviled, he departs.

When therefore you go home, when you recline upon your bed, when the lamp shines bright about the house, when the table is ready and plentiful, then call to mind that wretched and miserable man, who wanders about like the dogs in the alleys, in the darkness and the mire; and this too, when often, on leaving that place, he goes not to a house, nor to a wife, nor to a bed, but to a pallet of straw, even as we see the dogs raging all night long.

And you indeed, if you see even some little drop falling from the roof, overturn the whole house, calling your servants and setting everything in motion;

but that man, lying in rags and straw and mire, endures all the frost.

What wild beast then would not be broken down by such circumstances? Who is so savage and inhuman as not to be made gentle by these things? And yet there are some who have come to such a pitch of cruelty as even to say that they suffer what they deserve.

For whereas one ought to pity, and weep, and help to relieve their misfortunes, these men on the contrary accuse them cruelly and inhumanly.

For what do they deserve to suffer, tell me? because they wish to be fed and not to starve? No, he says, but because they are idle.

But do you not, without working, live in luxury? Nay, do you not often perform a work more grievous than any idleness, by plundering, and using violence, and grasping after more? It were better if you too were idle with such idleness as this;

for such idleness is better than covetousness.

But as it is, you even trample upon the misfortunes of others, being not only idle, nor only pursuing an occupation more grievous than idleness, but also accusing those who are in distress.

But let us relate to them also the misfortunes of others: the untimely orphanhoods, those who dwell in the prison, those who are torn apart in the law courts, those who fear for their very life, the unexpected widowhoods of women, the sudden reversals of the wealthy; and by this fear let us soften their minds.

For by these narratives concerning others we shall persuade them assuredly to fear the same things concerning themselves also.

For when they hear that so-and-so's son was the child of a covetous and rapacious man, that such a one's wife, the wife of one who had done many tyrannical deeds, after her husband's death endured countless terrible things, since those who had been wronged came against both the wife and the children, and a common war was raised on every side against that man's household — even if a man be more insensible than all others, expecting himself also to suffer the same things, and fearing for his own lest they too endure the like, he will become more temperate.

And our life is full of many such narratives, and we shall not be at a loss for such a means of correction.

But when we say these things, let us not say them as exhorting nor as counselling, lest the discourse become too burdensome, but rather in the manner of a narrative;

and from some other train of thought let us always come round to such a discussion, and continually lead them into these narratives, permitting them to speak of nothing else but these:

how the house of so-and-so, once splendid and conspicuous, has fallen;

how it is so desolate that all that was in it has come into the hands of others;

how many lawsuits were instituted day by day over this property, how many troubles;

of that man's heirs, some died begging, and some dwelling in the prison;

and let us say all these things as pitying him who has departed, and as making light of things present, that both by fear and by pity we may soften the hardened mind;

and when we see them subdued by these narratives, then at length let us bring in among them also the discourse concerning Gehenna, not as terrifying these, but as pitying others;

and why need one speak of things present? For our concerns do not stop even at these, but a more grievous punishment shall receive such men — a river of fire, and a venomous worm, and darkness without end, and undying torments.

If we charm them with these narratives, we shall correct both ourselves and them, and shall speedily deliver them from their sickness, and in that day we shall have God as our praiser, even as Paul also says:

'And then shall each man have his praise from God.' (1 Cor. 4:5)

For the praise that is from men both flows away, and often it comes not from a good disposition;

but that which is from God both abides continually and shines forth clearly.

For when He who knows all things before their coming to be, and who is beyond passion, praises, then indeed the proof of virtue is beyond dispute.

Knowing these things, therefore, let us do such things as to be praised of God, and to attain the greatest good things;

which may it be granted us all to attain, by the grace and love toward mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, honour, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.