帖撒羅尼迦前書講道集 第 9 章

But concerning the times and the seasons, brethren, you have no need that anything be written to you.

For you yourselves know accurately that the day of the Lord comes just as a thief in the night.

Nothing, it seems, is so curious and greedy for the learning of hidden and veiled things as the nature of man.

And this is wont to happen to it whenever it has a mind imperfect and not yet brought to maturity.

For among children too the more simple do not cease to wear out both nurses and tutors and fathers by the frequency of their questions, in which there is nothing else but, 'When is this?' and 'When is that?'

And this happens both from being pampered and from having nothing to do.

Now our mind is eager to learn and comprehend many things already, but most of all the time of the consummation.

And what wonder if we suffer this? For even those holy apostles themselves suffered it most of all, and before the Passion they came and said to Christ:

Tell us, when shall these things be, and what is the sign of your coming and of the consummation of the age? And after the Passion and the resurrection from the dead they said to him:

Tell us, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?

And they asked him nothing before this.

But afterwards it was not so. For when they were counted worthy of the Holy Spirit, not only do they themselves not ask, nor fret at their ignorance, but they even restrain those who are sick with this unseasonable curiosity.

Hear then what things the blessed Paul now says:

But concerning the times and the seasons, brethren, you have no need that anything be written to you.

Why did he not say that no one knows? Why did he not say that it has not been revealed, but, 'You have no need that anything be written to you'? Because in the former way he would rather have grieved them;

but in this way he consoled them by saying it thus.

For by the words, 'You have no need,' he did not permit them to inquire, as being superfluous and unprofitable.

For what, tell me, is the gain? Let us suppose the consummation to be after twenty years, after thirty, after a hundred;

what is that to us? Is not the consummation for each man the end of his own life? Why are you meddlesome, and in travail over the common end? But what we suffer in other things, this we suffer in this also.

For just as in other matters we leave our own concerns and are anxious about the affairs of others, saying:

So-and-so is a fornicator, so-and-so an adulterer, that man committed robbery, another did wrong; but of his own affairs no one takes any account of anyone, but everyone is more concerned about others than about his own household;

so also here, each one leaving off being anxious about his own end, we wish to learn the common dissolution.

For what have you in common with that? If you order this end of yours well, you will suffer nothing dreadful from that one.

For this reason Christ did not tell it, because it was not expedient.

And how was it not expedient, he says? He himself who hid it knows why it was not expedient;

for hear him saying to the apostles:

It is not for you to know times or seasons, which the Father has set within his own authority.

They heard these things in the case of Peter the chief, as seeking to learn things greater than themselves.

Yes, he says, but it was possible in this way to stop the mouths of the Greeks.

How, tell me? Since those men, he says, declare this world to be a god;

but if we knew the time of the dissolution, we should have stopped their mouths.

For which is it that stops their mouths — to learn that it is dissolved at some time, or to learn when it is dissolved? If you wish to stop their mouths, say this to them, that it shall have an end;

if they are not persuaded by this, neither will they be persuaded by that.

Hear Paul saying:

For you yourselves know accurately that the day of the Lord comes just as a thief in the night;

not the common day only, but also that which is proper to each;

for this one imitates that, since it is like it and akin to it.

For what that one does all at once, this does in part;

and the time of the consummation took its beginning from Adam, while the end of the life of each of us is an image of the consummation, and one would not err in calling it a consummation.

For when tens of thousands die every day and all await that day, and before it no one rises again, is it not the work of that day? But if you wish to learn why it is hidden, and why it comes just as a thief in the night, I will tell it, as seems to me to be well.

No one would ever have cared for virtue throughout all his life, if it were plain and not hidden;

but knowing his last day, and having done ten thousand dreadful things, and then coming to the laver at the last, he would so have departed.

For if now, when the fear of uncertainty shakes the souls of all, all men, having consumed all their former life in wickedness, give themselves to baptism at their last breath;

even if they were very much persuaded about this, who would ever have cared for virtue? For if, even with fear impending, many departed without illumination, and not even this fear taught them while living to care for the things that seem good to God;

if this fear too were taken away, who would ever have become temperate? And who would have been equitable? There is no one.

And again another point: great is the fear of death that now holds men, and the love of life;

but if each one knew that tomorrow he would certainly die, he would refuse nothing in the way of daring before that day, but would slaughter whomever he wished, and would work ten thousand dreadful things, taking vengeance on his enemies.

For a defiled man who has despaired of life here takes no account even of him who wears the purple.

He then who is persuaded that he must certainly depart, will both take vengeance on his enemy, and having first set his own soul at rest, would so receive his end.

Shall I mention yet a third point too? Those who love life, and greatly long for the things here, would be destroyed by despondency and grief.

For if any of the young knew that he would meet his end before old age, just as the most sluggish of beasts, when they are caught, become still more so, expecting their end, so would this man too be disposed.

Not even those noble men themselves would have had any reward.

For if they had known that after three years they must certainly depart, and that before those years it was not possible, what reward would they have had, in braving dangers? For someone would have said to them, that Since you are confident concerning the three years, for this reason you give yourselves over to perils, knowing that otherwise you cannot depart.

For he who at every peril expects to die, and knows that he will live if he does not risk himself, but will die if he dares such things, brings forth the greatest proof of his own zeal and of his contempt for the life here.

And I will make this plain to you by an example:

Tell me: if the patriarch Abraham had known beforehand that he would not slay his son, but still offered him up, would he have had any reward? And what of Paul: if he had foreknown that he would not die, and yet despised the dangers, where would his marvel be? For in that case even the most sluggish of men would enter into the fire,

if only he had found some trustworthy guarantor of his safety.

But the three young men were not of this sort;

rather, what? Hear them as they speak:

'O king, there is a God in heaven who will deliver us out of your hands and out of this furnace;

but if not, be it known to you that we will not serve your gods, nor worship the golden image which you have set up.'

Do you see how many are the gains, and more numerous than these, that come from not knowing the hour of our end? For the present, let it suffice to have learned these things.

For this reason He comes as a thief in the night;

so that we may not give ourselves over to wickedness, nor to slothfulness, nor let Him cut short our reward.

'For you yourselves,' he says, 'know perfectly.'

Why then do you busy yourselves, if you are already persuaded? But that the future is uncertain, learn from what Christ said:

and that He said it for this very reason, listen to what He says:

'Watch therefore, for you do not know at what hour the thief comes.'

For this reason Paul too said:

'But when they say, Peace and safety, then sudden destruction comes upon them, as travail upon a woman with child, and they shall by no means escape.'

Here he hinted at the same thing which he also said in his Second Epistle.

For since these were in afflictions, while those who warred against them were in ease and luxury, and since he himself consoled their present hardships with the doctrine of the resurrection, while those others reviled them, speaking out of their ancestral notions, and said:

'When will it be?' (which is also what the prophets said:

'Woe to those who say, Let it come quickly, let God hasten the things He will do, that we may see;

and let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel come, that we may know.'

'Woe to those who desire the day of the Lord' (for he does not simply speak of those who desire it, but of those who desire it out of unbelief);

and, 'The day of the Lord is darkness,' he says, 'and not light.')

And see how he consoles them:

Let them not make the fact that these men live in prosperity a proof that the judgment is not coming;

for in this very way indeed it does come.

It is worthwhile to inquire into this also:

if Antichrist is to come, and Elijah too is to come, how is it that 'when they say, Peace and safety, then sudden destruction comes upon them'? For these events do not permit the day to be unknown, being as they are signs of its coming.

But it is not this time that he is hinting at—I mean the time of Antichrist—nor does he say that that day will be a sign of Christ's coming; rather, that Christ will have no sign, but will come all at once and unexpectedly.

'And yet,' one might say, 'to the woman with child it does not come without warning;

for she knows that after nine months the birth will take place.'

Yet in fact it comes altogether without warning;

for some women have given birth at seven months, others at nine;

and moreover the very day and hour of the birth are uncertain.

It is with reference to this, then, that Paul says these things;

for the signs of the birth-pangs are not many;

at any rate, many women, having no forewarning, have given birth even on the roads and outside their homes.

And here he hinted not only at the uncertainty, but also at the bitterness of the pain.

For just as that woman, while playing and laughing and foreseeing nothing at all, is suddenly seized by unspeakable throes and is cut through by her pangs;

so also those souls, when that day comes upon them.

Then, showing that he is not saying these things about them, he added:

'But you, brethren, are not in darkness, that the day should overtake you as a thief.'

Here he means the dark and unclean life.

For just as the vile and wicked among men do all things by night, escaping the notice of all, and shutting themselves up in darkness.

For tell me: does not the adulterer watch for the evening, and the thief for the night? Does not the grave-robber carry on all his business in the night? What then? Does not the day overtake them as a thief? Does it not come upon them too without warning? But they foresee it? How then does he say, 'You have no need that anything be written to you'? Here he speaks not with respect to the uncertainty, but with respect to the calamity;

that is, He will not come for their harm.

For to them also He will indeed come without warning, yet He will involve them in nothing grievous.

For with men who are awake and in the light, even if some entry of a robber occurs, he will be able to do no harm;

so it is also with those who live rightly;

but He departs after stripping bare of everything those who are asleep, those who put their confidence in the things here.

Then yet another thing on their behalf:

'For you are all,' he says, 'sons of light and sons of the day.'

And how is it possible, he says, to be sons of the day? Just as men are sons of perdition, sons of hell.

For this reason Christ too said to the Pharisees:

'Woe to you, for you go about the sea and the dry land to make one proselyte;

and when he is made, you make him a son of hell.'

'For which things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience'—that is, upon those who do the deeds of hell, those who do the deeds of disobedience.

Just as, then, those who do the things pleasing to God are sons of God, so too those who do the deeds of the light are sons of the day and sons of light.

'We are not of the night nor of darkness.'

'So then let us not sleep, as do the rest, but let us watch and be sober.'

'For those who sleep, sleep in the night;

and those who are drunk, are drunk in the night;

but we, being of the day, let us be sober.'

Here he shows that to be in the day is a matter of our own choosing.

And in the present case—I mean with respect to this natural day and night—it is not in our power, but the night comes even against our will, and sleep steals upon us even when we do not wish it;

but with respect to that other night and that sleep, it is no longer so; rather, it is possible to be awake perpetually, it is possible to keep perpetual day.

For to close the eyes of the soul and to bring on the sleep that comes of wickedness is not a matter of nature, but of the will.

'But let us watch,' he says, 'and be sober.'

For it is possible, while awake, to be asleep, by doing nothing good;

for this reason he added, 'And let us be sober.'

For indeed, if one is awake in the day but is not sober, he will fall into ten thousand troubles. So then sobriety is the heightening of wakefulness.

'They that sleep,' he says, 'sleep in the night; and they that are drunken are drunken in the night.'

By drunkenness here he means not only that which comes from wine, but also that which arises from all evils.

For wealth too is a drunkenness of the soul, and so is the desire of riches, and the love of bodies, and whatever else you may name: it is a drunkenness of the soul.

But why did he call vice a sleep? Because, first, such a man is inactive toward virtue;

and next, because he imagines everything and sees nothing that is true, but is full of dreams, and often of absurd things;

and if he should see anything good, it has nothing firm nor fixed in it.

Such is the present life:

it is full of dreams and phantoms.

Wealth is a dream, and glory, and all such things.

He that sleeps sees not the things that are and truly subsist, but the things that are not.

Such is vice, and the life spent in vice:

it sees not the things that are—that is, the spiritual things, the heavenly things, the things that abide—but the things that flow away and fly off and quickly leap away from us.

But it is not enough to be awake and sober; one must also be armed.

For even if a man be awake and sober, yet has no weapons, the robbers quickly overpower him.

When therefore we ought both to be awake and sober and armed, but we are unarmed and naked and asleep, what shall hinder him from thrusting in the sword? Wherefore, to make this plain also—that we have need of weapons—he added:

'But let us, who are of the day, be sober, having put on the breastplate of faith and love;'

'and for a helmet, the hope of salvation.'

'Of faith and love,' he says.

Here he hints at a life joined with right doctrines.

See how he has shown what it is to be awake and sober: it is, he says, to have the breastplate of faith and love.

By faith he means not the ordinary kind, but the fervent, the sincere, the faith that makes those who are shielded by it invincible.

Just as nothing can quickly cut through the breastplate, but it is as an invisible wall to the breast,

so also do you draw faith and love around your soul, and none of the fiery darts of the devil will be able to fix itself in it.

For where the power of the soul is forearmed with the weapon of love,

all who plot against it contrive their schemes in vain and to no purpose.

For neither wickedness, nor enmity, nor envy, nor flattery, nor hypocrisy, nor anything else will be able to reach such a soul.

And he did not simply say 'love,' but bade us put it on as a strong breastplate.

Then, having thus spoken, he adds:

'And for a helmet, the hope of salvation.'

For just as the helmet guards the vital part in us, encompassing the head and covering it on every side,

so also hope does not allow the reasoning power to fall away, but sets it upright like a head, permitting nothing from without to fall upon it.

And so long as nothing bears it down, neither does it slip;

for he that is fenced with these weapons can never fall.

'For there abide,' he says, 'faith, hope, love, these three.'

Then, having said, 'Put on and gird yourselves,' he himself now furnishes the weapons, and shows whence faith and hope and love might be born, and how the weapons might become stronger, adding and saying:

'For God appointed us not unto wrath, but unto the obtaining of salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us,'

So that He called us not to this end, to destroy us, but to save us.

And whence is it plain that this is His will? 'He gave His Son for us,' he says;

so greatly does He desire us to be saved, that He gave His Son—and gave Him not simply, but unto death.

From these considerations hope is born.

For do not despair, O man, in drawing near to God, who spared not even His Son for your sake;

do not renounce hope because of present evils.

He that gave the Only-Begotten, that He might save you and deliver you from hell—what will He henceforth spare for your salvation? So that we ought to hope for all good things.

For not even if we were going before a judge who was about to try us, and who had displayed such love for us as to slay his own son, should we be afraid.

Let us then hope for good and great things;

for we have received the sum of them, if we believe.

For we have seen the pattern;

for it is the utmost folly not to love Him who has been so disposed toward us.

'That whether we wake or sleep,' he says, 'we should live together with Him.'

'Wherefore comfort one another, and build up each one the other, even as also ye do.'

And elsewhere again: 'Whether we wake or sleep.'

But he means one kind of sleep there, and another here;

for here he signifies bodily death, but there the negligence in our manner of life.

Fear not the dangers: even if we die, we shall live.

Do not despair because you are in peril;

for He would not, unless He greatly burned with love for us, have given His Son.

For He too Himself died.

Whether therefore we die or live, we shall live with Him.

It matters nothing to me whether I live or die;

for with Him we shall live.

Let us therefore do all things for the sake of that life; let us work all things with our eyes fixed on it.

Vice is darkness, beloved; it is death, it is night; we see none of the things we ought, we do none of the things that befit us.

Just as the dead are unsightly and foul-smelling, so also the souls of those in vice are full of much uncleanness;

their eyes are closed, their mouth is shut fast, they lie motionless upon the bed of vice;

nay rather, they are more pitiable than those who have suffered these things.

For the latter are dead to both, but the former are insensible toward virtue, while alive toward vice.

If one strike a dead man, he does not feel it;

but just as a piece of dry wood, so also the soul, having cast away life, is in truth dry;

it receives ten thousand wounds every day, and feels none of them, but is disposed insensibly toward all.

One would not err in comparing them to madmen, to the drunken, to those out of their wits.

All these things does vice possess, and it is more grievous than them all.

The madman finds much pardon from those who look upon him; for his malady is not of the will, but of nature alone.

for his malady is not of the will, but of nature alone.

But he who lives in vice, from what shall he obtain pardon? Whence, then, comes vice? Whence come the many who are wicked? Whence, do you ask? Tell me yourself: whence comes the malignancy of diseases? whence frenzy? whence heavy sleep? Is it not from carelessness? If natural diseases take their origin from the will, how much more do those which spring from the will itself.

Whence comes drunkenness? Is it not from the intemperance of the soul? Does not frenzy come from an excess of fever? And does not the fever come from the elements within us being in excess? And does not the excess of the elements within us come from carelessness? For whenever, whether by deficiency or by excess, we push any of the elements within us into disproportion, we kindle that fire.

Again, if, when the flame has been kindled, we persist in making light of it, we work against ourselves a pyre which we are not even able to quench.

So too it happens with vice.

When it has begun and we do not check it nor cut it off, we can no longer even reach its end, but it grows greater than our strength.

Therefore, I beseech you, let us do everything, so as never to slumber.

Do you not see the guards, that often, having given themselves up but a little to sleep, they gained nothing from all their long watch? For through that little moment they ruined the whole, granting to him who wished to steal a wide license.

For just as we do not see the thieves as clearly as they see us, so also the devil above all men stands ready and lies in wait and gnashes his teeth.

so also the devil above all men stands over us and lies in wait, and gnashes his teeth.

Let us not say, 'This matters nothing, that matters nothing.'

Whence we did not expect it, we have often been despoiled.

whence we did not expect it, there we perished.

Let us watch all things carefully; let us not be drunken, and we shall not fall asleep;

let us not live in luxury, and we shall not slumber;

let us not rage after outward things, and we shall continue in sobriety.

Let us order ourselves aright on every side.

And just as for those who walk upon a stretched rope it is not possible to be careless even a little;

for the little thing works a great evil;

for having lost his balance he is straightway cast down and perishes;

so neither is it possible for us to be careless.

We walk a narrow road, hemmed in by precipices on either side, one that does not admit two feet together.

Do you see how much exactness we need? Do you not see those who travel roads that are precipitous on both sides, how they make secure not their feet only, but also their eyes? For if a man should chance to look elsewhere, even though his foot stand firmly, his eye, made dizzy by the depth, has cast the whole man down.

But one must give heed to oneself and to one's step;

neither to the right, nor to the left.

Great is the abyss of vice, mighty are the precipices, deep below is the darkness, narrow is the road;

let us give heed with fear, let us walk with trembling.

No one traveling such a road is dissolved in laughter, nor weighed down with drunkenness, but travels such a road in sobriety and attentiveness;

no one traveling such a road carries with him any of the superfluous things;

for it is a welcome thing, being lightly girded, to be able to run through it;

no one fetters his own feet, but lets them go free and unencumbered.

But we, binding ourselves with countless cares, and carrying countless burdens of this life, gaping and dissipated—how do we expect to walk the narrow road? He did not simply say that it is narrow, but with astonishment.

This we also do in the case of things that are exceedingly marveled at.

And again He says, 'Strait is the way that leads unto life.'

For when we must render account of our words and thoughts and deeds and of all things, it is indeed narrow.

But we make it narrower still, by broadening and widening ourselves and letting our feet sprawl.

For the narrow road is difficult for everyone, but especially for him who is pampered; whereas he who wastes himself away will not even perceive the straitness;

so that he who has practiced being afflicted will not even be exasperated at being pressed.

let none expect to behold heaven amid ease;

Let no one, living in luxury, hope to travel the narrow road;

Let no one, walking the broad road, hope for life.

When therefore you see such a one reveling in baths, in a costly table, or in a train of attendants, do not count yourself wretched as one not sharing in these things, but rather groan for that man, because he travels the road that leads to perdition.

For what profit is there in this road, when it ends in affliction? And what harm from that straitness, when it comes to rest and ease? Tell me, if one man, being invited to the palace, should walk through afflicting and precipitous alleys, while another, being led away to death, should be dragged through the midst of the marketplace, whom shall we call blessed, whom shall we bewail? Not the one walking through the broad way? So also now: let us not count the luxurious blessed, but those who are not luxurious;

these press on toward heaven, those toward hell.

And perhaps many of them will even laugh at the things spoken by us;

but I for this very reason lament and mourn all the more, that they do not even know at what they ought to laugh, and over what they ought most of all to grieve;

but they confound and confuse and throw all things into an uproar.

For these things I lament them.

What say you, O man? You who are about to rise again, and to render an account of the things done by you, and to undergo the final judgment—of these things you make no account, but you practice gluttony and drunkenness, and on top of these you laugh? But I lament you, knowing the evils that await you, the punishment that shall receive you in turn;

and for this reason I lament most of all, because you laugh.

Mourn with me, lament with me your own evils.

Tell me, if one of your household should die, do you not turn away from those who laugh at the death, and count them enemies, while you love those who weep and mourn with you? Then, when your wife lies dead before you, you turn away from him who laughs; but when your soul has been put to death, you turn away from him who weeps, and do you yourself laugh? Do you see how the devil has disposed us to be enemies and foes to our own selves? Let us at length come to our senses, let us open our eyes, let us keep watch, let us lay hold of eternal life, let us shake off the deep sleep.

There is a judgment, there is punishment, there is a resurrection, there is an examination of the things done;

The Lord comes in the clouds. 'A fire shall be kindled before Him, and round about Him a mighty tempest,' it says;

a river of fire is drawn along before Him, a worm that dies not, unquenchable fire, outer darkness, gnashing of teeth.

And though you be displeased at these things ten thousand times over, I will not cease from speaking.

For if the prophets, being stoned, did not keep silence, much more must we bear enmity, and not speak to please you, lest, having deceived you, we ourselves be cut asunder.

There the punishment is immortal, without consolation;

'Who will pity a charmer that is bitten by a serpent?' it says. When we do not pity ourselves, who will pity us, tell me? If you should see someone driving a sword through himself, would you ever be able to spare him? By no means.

much more, when it is in our power to do rightly, and we do not do rightly, who will spare us? No one.

when we pray to God, saying, 'Have mercy on me, O Lord,' let us say to ourselves also, and let us have mercy on ourselves.

We ourselves are masters of whether God shows mercy to us;

He Himself has granted us this.

If we do things worthy of mercy, if we do things worthy of the loving-kindness that comes from Him, God will have mercy on us;

but if we do not have mercy on ourselves, who will spare us? Have mercy on your neighbor, and you shall be shown mercy by God Himself.

How many every day come forward saying, 'Have mercy on me,' and you do not even turn toward them? How many are naked, how many are maimed, and we are not moved, but pass by their supplications? How then do you deem yourself worthy to be shown mercy, when you yourself do nothing worthy of mercy? Let us become compassionate, let us become merciful;

so that thus we may please God, and may attain the good things promised to those who love Him, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father together,

and to the Holy Spirit be glory, might, and honor, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.