哥林多前書講道集 第 37 章

'Let your women keep silence in the churches.'

'For it is not permitted to them to speak, but to be in subjection, as also the law says.'

Having cut off the disturbance that came from the tongues, and that from the prophesyings, and having enacted a law, that no confusion should arise—that those who speak with tongues should do so in turn, and that those who prophesy should be silent when another begins—he next proceeds in orderly fashion also to the tumult that arises from the women, cutting off their unseasonable freedom of speech, and very seasonably.

For if to those who have the gifts it is simply not permitted to speak—not even when they wish, and that though they are moved by the Spirit—much more is it not permitted to those women who chatter idly and to no purpose.

For this reason, with much authority he stops their idle chatter, and taking the law along with him,

he thus stitches up their mouths.

For here he does not merely exhort, nor give counsel, but even commands with severity, reading out on behalf of these things an ancient law.

For having said, 'Let your women keep silence in the churches,' and, 'It is not permitted them to speak, but to be in subjection,' he added, 'as also saith the law.'

And where does the law say this? 'Thy turning shall be unto thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.'

Do you see Paul's wisdom, what a testimony he brought forward, one that bids them not merely to keep silence, but to keep silence with fear, and with fear so great as that with which a bondwoman ought to hold her peace? Wherefore he too, having said that 'it is not permitted them to speak,' did not add, 'but to keep silence,' but set down something greater than keeping silence, namely, to be in subjection.

But if this holds in the case of husbands, much more does it hold in the case of teachers and fathers and the common assembly of the church.

And if they are neither to utter a word, he says, nor even to ask a question, for what purpose then are they present? That they may hear what is fitting, and learn at home from their husbands the things about which they are in doubt.

'But if they wish to learn anything, let them ask their own husbands at home.'

For it is not merely that speaking is not permitted them, he says, simply and absolutely, but they are not even to ask a question in the church.

But if they may not even ask a question, much more is it unlawful for them simply to speak.

And why then did he place them under so great a subjection? Because the woman is in some sense a weaker being, and easily swayed and light-minded.

For this very reason he set the men over them as teachers, benefiting both parties.

For he both rendered the women orderly, and made the men earnest, seeing that they were bound to deliver over to the women, with much exactness, whatever they had heard.

Then, since they thought to make themselves conspicuous by speaking in public, he again turns the discourse to the contrary point, saying:

'For it is a shame for a woman to speak in the church.'

For first he established this from the law of God, then from common reason and from custom; just as also, when he was discoursing with them about the hair, he said:

'Doth not even nature itself teach you?' And everywhere you may find this to be his manner, that he shames them not only from the divine Scriptures, but also from common custom.

And besides these, he shames them also from what all men hold and from what has everywhere been established as a pattern, which he has here set down, saying:

'What? Did the word of God go forth from you? Or did it come unto you alone?' For he brought forward the rest of the Churches as keeping this rule, both cutting off the tumult that comes from innovation, and by the vote of the many rendering his word the more readily acceptable.

'Who shall remind you of my ways which are in Christ, even as I teach everywhere in every Church;'

and again, 'For God is not a God of confusion, but of peace, as in all the Churches of the saints;'

and here, 'What? Did the word of God go forth from you? Or did it come unto you alone?' That is to say, You are neither the first nor the only believers, but the whole inhabited world.

This also he said when writing to the Colossians: 'Even as it is bearing fruit and increasing in all the world,' speaking of the Gospel.

And he does this in yet another way for the exhortation of his hearers, as when he says that their affairs are foremost and are manifest to all.

For writing to the Thessalonians he said:

'For from you the word of God has sounded forth, and in every place your faith toward God is gone forth;'

and to the Romans again, that 'Your faith is proclaimed throughout the whole world.'

For both things are sufficient to urge on and to arouse: both to be praised by others, and to have others as partakers of one's judgment.

'What? Did the word of God go forth from you? Or did it come unto you alone?' For neither could you say this, he says, that 'We became teachers of the rest, and it would not be just for us to learn from others;'

nor, that 'Here alone did the matters of the faith come to a stand, and it is not needful to receive examples from others.'

Do you see by how many arguments he shamed them? He brought forward the law, he showed the shamefulness of the thing, he

set the rest of the Churches in the midst.

Then he sets down last of all that which is strongest of all, saying that 'God enjoins these things even now through me.'

'If any man thinketh himself to be a prophet or spiritual, let him take knowledge of the things which I write unto you, that they are the commandments of the Lord.'

'But if any man is ignorant, let him be ignorant.'

And for what reason did he add this? To show that he does not use force, nor is he contentious; which is a mark of those who wish not to establish their own opinions, but to look to what is profitable for others.

'But if any man is contentious, we have no such custom.'

But he does not do this everywhere, but where the sins committed are not exceedingly great, and even then rather with a view to shaming;

since when he is discoursing about other matters, he does not speak thus, but how? 'Be not deceived:'

'neither fornicators, nor effeminate, shall inherit the kingdom of God:'

and again, 'Behold, I Paul say unto you, that if ye be circumcised, Christ will profit you nothing.'

But here, since his discourse was concerning silence, he does not press the matter very vehemently, but rather draws them on by this very means.

Then, doing what he is ever wont to do, he brings back the discourse to the former subject, from which he had digressed to say these things, saying:

'Wherefore, my brethren, desire earnestly to prophesy, and forbid not to speak with tongues.'

For this too is his custom: not merely to work out the matter before him, but also, from that matter, to correct whatever seems to him in any way kindred to it, and then again to return to the former subject, so as not to seem to fall away from his theme.

For indeed when he was discoursing about the agreement at the tables, having passed on to the communion in the mysteries, and having shamed them from thence, he returns again to the former topics, saying:

'Wherefore, when ye come together to eat, wait one for another.'

So here too, then, having discoursed about good order in the spiritual gifts, and about the need neither to be vexed in the lesser gifts nor to be puffed up over the greater, and then having gone forth from thence to the seemliness befitting women, and having established it, he returns to the subject before him, saying again:

'Wherefore, my brethren, desire earnestly to prophesy, and forbid not to speak with tongues.'

Do you see how unto the end he preserved the distinction, and how he showed the one to be exceedingly necessary, but the other not so? Wherefore concerning the former he says, 'Desire earnestly,' but concerning the latter, 'Forbid not.'

Then, correcting all things as it were in summary, he adds, saying:

'But let all things be done decently and in order;'

again smiting those who wished to behave unseemly without cause, and to gain the reputation of madness, and who did not keep their own proper order.

For nothing so builds up as good order, as peace, as love; even as, on the other hand, their opposites dissolve.

And one may see this not only in spiritual matters, but also in all other things.

For whether in a choir, or in a ship, or in a chariot, or in an army, if you throw the order into confusion, and cast the greater things out of their proper place and bring the lesser into the rank of those, you destroy everything, and thus things are turned upside down.

Let us therefore not destroy the order, nor put the head below and the feet above.

And this comes to pass when we cast down the right reasoning below, and set the desires, and wrath, and anger, and pleasure over the rational faculty;

whence comes much surging, and much tumult, and an unbearable tempest, since all things are held fast in darkness.

And, if you will, let us first examine the unseemliness that arises from this, and then the loss.

How then shall this become clear and exceedingly well known to us? Let us bring forward into the midst a man in such a condition, one in love with a harlot and held fast by an unnatural lust, and then we shall behold this laughable spectacle.

For what could be more shameful than a man lodging at the doors before the harlots' houses, being buffeted by a harlot woman, and weeping and lamenting, and disgracing his own glory? And if you wish also to see the loss, consider for me the spending of his money, the dangers about the uttermost matters, the war against his rivals, the wounds, the blows that come from such conflicts.

Such also are those who are held fast by the lust of money;

or rather, they behave still more unseemly.

The former are busied about one body;

but the covetous meddle in like manner with the substance of all men, both of the poor and of the rich, and are in love with things that do not even exist, which is above all a sign of the absurdity of the passion.

For they do not say, 'I wished to have such a one's substance, and only such a one's,' but they wish even the mountains to be gold, and the houses, and all things that are seen, and they advance on to yet another world;

and this they suffer without limit, and nowhere do they leave off their desire.

What discourse could set before us the tempest of those reasonings, the waves, the gloom? And where there are such waves and such a tempest, what pleasure could there be? There is none at all, but tumult and anguish and murky clouds bringing, instead of rain, much despondency;

which is wont indeed to happen also in the case of those who are in love with another's beauty.

For this very reason those who are not at all in love are in greater pleasure than those who are in love.

But to this indeed no one would gainsay.

But as for me, I would rather say that the man who loves yet restrains his desire lives in greater luxury than the one who continually enjoys the harlot.

For even if the demonstration is more difficult, nevertheless in this case too it is necessary to venture boldly upon the argument.

For it becomes more difficult, not because of the nature of the matter, but because there are not hearers worthy of this philosophy.

For what, tell me, is more pleasant to the lover—to be despised by the beloved, or to be honoured and to look down upon her? It is plain that this latter is.

Whom then, tell me, will the harlot honour more—the man who is her slave and has already become her captive, or the man who soars above her nets and flies higher than her snares? It is clear to everyone that she honours the latter.

And about whom will she be more eager—the one who has fallen, or the one who has not yet fallen? Assuredly the one who has not yet fallen.

And who will be more longed for—the one already won over, or the one not yet caught? The one not yet caught, of course.

But if you do not believe it, I will furnish the proof from your own experience.

For which woman would a man love more—the one who easily yields herself and gives herself over to him, or the one who refuses and causes him trouble? It is plain that he loves the latter;

for from this the desire is kindled all the more.

So then, in the case of the woman also, this very same thing will hold true;

and they will honour and admire more the man who despises them.

And if this is true, that other point is likewise true—that the one who is more honoured and more loved enjoys the greater pleasure.

Since a general too leaves a city that has once for all been taken, but presses on with all diligence against the one that still stands and holds out;

and a hunter keeps the beast he has caught shut up in the dark—just as the harlot keeps her lover—but pursues the one that flees.

'But that man enjoys his desire,' someone says, 'while this man does not enjoy it.'

But not to be put to shame, nor to be enslaved to her tyrannical commands, nor to be led about by her like a slave and dragged around—struck, spat upon, thrust down upon the head—do you count this a small pleasure? Tell me.

For if anyone were to examine these things carefully, and were able to gather together their insults, the accusations, the constant fits of rage—those springing from the soul, those arising from wantonness—the hatreds, and all the rest, which only they who suffer them know, he would find that every war affords more truces than the wretched life of these men.

What sort of pleasure, then, do you mean? Tell me;

the one that comes from the act of union, that fleeting and brief pleasure? But at once war overtakes it, and waves, and frenzy, and the same madness again.

And these things we have said as one might say them in conversing with licentious young men, who cannot at all endure to hear discourses concerning the Kingdom and hell;

but when we bring these very matters forward, it is not even possible to tell how great is the pleasure of those who live chastely, when a man pictures to himself the crowns, the prizes, the fellowship with the angels, the proclamation before the whole world, the boldness of speech, and those good and immortal hopes.

'But the act of union has a certain pleasure';

for this is what they continually keep harping on;

'and the chaste man cannot endure perpetually to be at war with the demand of nature.'

But one would find the very opposite to be the case;

for this violence and turmoil is rather to be found in the fornicator.

For there is much agitation in his body, and he is in a worse plight than any sea tossed by waves, never taking his stand against desire, but ever hurled about by it—like those possessed by demons, and continually shattered by evil spirits.

But the chaste man, like a noble champion, continually striking her down, reaps the finest pleasure, sweeter than ten thousand such pleasures, being forever adorned by this victory, by a good conscience, and by his splendid trophies.

And if after intercourse the former rests a little while, this would amount to nothing;

for again the storm comes on, and again the waves.

But the man of true wisdom does not even allow this turmoil to gain a beginning, nor the sea to rise up, nor the wild beast to roar.

And even if he does endure some violence in restraining such an impulse, still even he is continually assailed and goaded, and cannot bear the sting;

and it becomes something like a man holding in with the bridle a wild and raging horse that strains against him, and mastering it with all his skill;

whereas the one who gives way, so as to flee this toil, is dragged along by it and carried everywhere.

Even if these things have been spoken more plainly than was fitting, let no one blame me;

for I do not wish to adorn myself with the dignity of my words, but to make my hearers dignified.

For this reason the prophets too spared none of such expressions when they wished to cut off the licentiousness of the Jews, but assailed them even more nakedly than we now do in what we have said.

For a physician too, when he wishes to remove a gangrenous sore, does not consider how to keep his hands clean, but how he may rid the patient of the putrefaction;

and the man who wishes to raise up the lowly is himself first brought low;

and he who is eager to slay the man plotting against him stains himself with blood along with that man, and this makes him more glorious.

Since if one sees a soldier returning from the war defiled with gore and blood and brains, he will not hate him, nor turn away on this account, but will rather admire him.

So let us also do the same: when we see someone returning bloodied after slaughtering his own lust, let us admire him the more, and share with him in the battle and the victory, and let us say to those who are in love: Show us the pleasure that comes from desire.

For the chaste man has the pleasure that comes from victory, but you have it from no source at all.

And if you should say the pleasure from intercourse, still his is clearer and more lasting.

For you have from your enjoyment something brief and not even visible, but he, from his conscience, has a gladness that is greater, continuous, and sweeter.

For the company of a woman cannot keep the soul untroubled and give it wings as philosophy can.

This man, then, as I said, thus plainly shows us the pleasure;

but in your case I see the despondency that comes from defeat, while, though I wish to see the pleasure, I do not find it.

For what moment do you wish to be the time of pleasure?

The time before the act of union? But there is none;

for it is a time of madness, of frenzy, and of derangement.

For the gnashing of the teeth and the being beside oneself is no mark of pleasure;

and if it were a mark of pleasure, it would not have produced in you those things which people in pain endure.

For those who box and are struck also gnash their teeth, and women in the throes of childbirth, torn apart by their pangs, do this very same thing.

So that this is not pleasure, but rather derangement and uproar and turmoil.

But is the time that follows the moment of pleasure? Nay, neither is this;

for neither should we say that the woman who has given birth is in pleasure, but rather in the release from her pangs;

and this is not pleasure at all, but rather weakness and exhaustion;

and great is the interval between these two things.

What, then, is the time of pleasure? Tell me.

And even if there is one, it is so brief as not even to appear.

So, though we have striven ten thousand times to detect and lay hold of it, we have not been able.

But the pleasure of the chaste man is not like this; rather it is broad and manifest to all;

or rather his whole life is in pleasure, his conscience crowning him, the waves stilled, no

turmoil arising from any quarter.

Since, then, this man is rather in pleasure, while the lover of pleasure is in despondency and turmoil, let us flee licentiousness and cleave to chastity, that we may also attain the good things to come, by the grace and lovingkindness of God, and so forth.