提摩太前書講道集 第 17 章

'These things teach and exhort.'

'If any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the doctrine which is according to godliness, he is puffed up, knowing nothing, but doting about questionings and disputes of words, whereof cometh envy, strife, railings, evil surmisings, perverse wranglings of men of corrupt minds, and destitute of the truth, supposing that godliness is a means of gain.'

'From such withdraw thyself.'

'But godliness with contentment is great gain.'

For we brought nothing into this world;

and it is plain that neither can we carry anything out.

A teacher needs not only authority, but also much gentleness; just as he needs not gentleness only, but authority as well.

And all these things the blessed Paul teaches, at one time saying,

'Command these things and teach them,' and at another, 'Teach these things and exhort.'

For if physicians exhort the sick, not that they themselves may attain to health, but that they may free those others from their infirmity and raise up such as lie prostrate,

much more ought we to use this disposition of gentleness toward those we teach, exhorting them.

For not even to be their servant does the blessed Paul refuse, saying,

'For we preach not ourselves,' he says, 'but Christ Jesus, and ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake';

and again, 'All things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos.'

And he performs this service with eagerness;

for it is not servitude, but something better than freedom.

'For that one,' he says, 'is a slave who commits sin.'

'If any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the teaching which is according to godliness, he is puffed up, knowing nothing.'

So then it is not from knowing that one comes to be lifted up

into arrogance, but from not knowing.

For he who knows the words that accord with godliness, that man above all knows also to be moderate;

he who understands the wholesome words is not diseased.

For what inflammation is in bodies, that is arrogance in souls;

and as there we say that the inflamed part is not healthy, so neither here do we say the boastful are.

So then it is possible for one who knows something to know nothing;

for he who knows not the things he ought to know, knows nothing.

And that pride comes from knowing nothing is plain from this:

Christ emptied Himself;

he therefore who knows this will never think highly of himself;

for a man has nothing, except from God;

'For what hast thou that thou didst not receive?' He Himself washed the feet of the disciples.

He who knows this, how shall he be lifted up? For this reason He says, 'When ye have done all things, say that We are unprofitable servants.'

The publican was approved from humility alone, while the Pharisee perished from boastfulness.

The man puffed up, therefore, understands none of these things.

Christ Himself again says,

'If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil;

but if well, why smitest thou Me?' But being diseased, he says, about questionings.

So then to question is to be diseased.

For when the soul is fevered by reasonings, when it is storm-tossed, then it questions; but when it is in health, then it does not question, but receives the faith.

But from questioning and word-battles nothing is to be found.

For the things which faith alone promises, when questioning takes them in hand, it neither shows them nor allows them to be understood.

For neither, if a man having shut his eyes wishes to find something of the things sought, will he be able; nor again, if with these open he buries himself and turns away from the beam of light, and there seeks, will he be able to find anything.

So without faith nothing is found, but of necessity strifes are begotten.

From which come blasphemies, evil surmisings.

That is, evil opinions and doctrines from the questionings.

Then we suspect concerning God what we ought not, whenever we fall into questionings.

that is, leisure or occupation.

Or he means this: mutual frictions;

just as the mangy among sheep, being rubbed against, fill the healthy ones also with disease, so also do these wicked men.

'And being destitute,' he says, 'of the truth, supposing that godliness is a means of gain.'

Do you see how many things he says word-battles beget? sordid gain, ignorance, arrogance;

for ignorance begets arrogance.

'From these,' he says, 'withdraw thyself.'

He did not say, 'Close with them,' but, 'Withdraw thyself,' that is, turn aside.

'For a heretical man,' he says, 'after a first and second admonition reject.'

He shows that they have this ignorance itself not so much from ignorance as from slothfulness.

For when will you be able to persuade men who contend for the sake of money? You will not otherwise persuade such men, unless you give again; and not even so will you fill up their desire.

'For the eye of the covetous man,' he says, 'is not filled with his portion.'

One must therefore turn away from them, since they are past correction.

But if to him who has great necessity of contending he counsels not to close with them nor to grapple, much more does he so counsel us who are being taught, who are in the rank of disciples.

And having said that they suppose godliness to be a means of gain, he added:

'But godliness with contentment is great gain,' not when one has money, but when one has it not.

For lest he fall into despondency because of poverty, he raises him up and sets him upright;

'They suppose,' he says, 'that it is a means of gain.'

For it is indeed, but not in that way—rather in a greater.

Then, having first cast down that gain, he then exalts this.

For that this gain is nothing is plain from its remaining here, and not changing its place with us, nor journeying abroad with us.

Whence is this plain? Because we came into this life having nothing;

therefore we shall depart having nothing;

for naked came our nature into being, and naked shall it depart.

We have no need, therefore, of superfluous things;

if we brought in nothing, neither shall we depart having anything.

But having food and covering, with these we shall be content;

and such things as suffice to nourish;

to be clothed with such things as ought only to cover us and to hide our nakedness, nothing superfluous;

and even a common garment is able to accomplish this.

Then he exhorts them by considerations drawn from things here below.

'But those who desire to be rich,' he says,

He did not say simply, 'Those who are rich,' but, 'Those who desire' to be so.

For it is possible for one who possesses wealth to manage it well, to despise it, and to distribute it among the poor.

It is not such men, then, that he censures, but those who covet.

'But those who desire to be rich,' he says, 'fall into temptation and a snare of the devil, and into many foolish and hurtful desires, which drown men.'

Well did he say, 'They drown them,' so that they cannot even come up again to breathe.

'For the love of money is a root of all evils, which while some coveted after, they were led astray from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.'

Behold, he sets down two things; but that which seems to them the more grievous, this he has here placed last, namely, 'with many sorrows.'

And these things cannot be learned otherwise than by dwelling near the rich, and seeing how much they lament, how much they bewail.

'But you, O man of God,'

For all men indeed are God's, but the righteous are so in a special sense, not only according to the principle of creation, but also according to that of appropriation.

If you are a man of God, he says, do not seek superfluous things, which do not lead you to God;

but 'flee these things, and pursue righteousness.'

He did not say, 'Withdraw from them, and approach,' but, 'Flee, and pursue righteousness,' so as not to be grasping.

'Godliness,'—that is, soundness of doctrine;

'faith,' which is opposed to questioning;

'love, patience, meekness.'

'Fight the good fight of faith; lay hold on eternal life,'

'to which you were called, and confessed the good confession in the hope of eternal life before many witnesses.'

That is, Do not put to shame that boldness of confession;

why do you toil unprofitably? And what kind of temptation and snare does he say that those who desire to be rich endure? For it leads them astray from the faith, surrounds them with dangers, and makes them more faint-hearted.

'And foolish desires,' he says.

For how is a desire not foolish, when men keep idiots, when they keep dwarfs—not out of love for mankind, but for amusement; when they shut up fish in their courtyards, when they rear wild beasts, when they busy themselves about dogs, when they adorn horses and care for them no less than for their own children? All these things are foolish and superfluous, nothing necessary, nothing useful.

'Desires,' he says, 'foolish and hurtful.'

What kind are hurtful? When men are inflamed with unnatural lusts, when they covet their neighbour's goods, when they wrestle with luxury, when they crave drunkenness, when they thirst for slaughter and the destruction of others.

And many, from such lusts, have even attempted tyranny, and perished.

Truly such a man toils for things unprofitable, or rather even hurtful.

And well did he say, 'They were led astray from the faith;'

for the love of money does not allow them to see the way, drawing their eyes towards itself, and little by little pilfering them away.

For just as a man walking along a straight road, but having his mind fixed on something else, indeed walks on, yet unwittingly passes by many a time that very city to which he was hastening, his feet being dragged along aimlessly and in vain;

such a thing also is the love of money.

'And pierced themselves through with many sorrows.'

Do you see what he hinted at by the word 'pierced through'? What he wishes to make plain through this vivid expression is this:

the desires are thorns, and just as with thorns, from whatever side one takes hold of them, they bloody the hands and inflict wounds;

so also from these desires the same thing will befall the man who has fallen among them, and he will encompass his soul with pangs.

How many cares, how many sorrows do those who have surrendered themselves to these things possess, tell me? It is impossible to tell.

Therefore he says, 'Flee these things, and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness.'

Here he praises his boldness and his manliness;

for, he says, with boldness you made confession before all.

And he reminds him also of his catechetical instruction;

'Lay hold,' he says, 'on eternal life.'

There is need, then, not of confession only, but also of patient endurance, so as to abide continually in the confession, and, reasonably, of vehement struggle and countless sweats, so as not to be overturned;

for many are the stumbling-blocks, many the hindrances.

Therefore the way is strait and narrow.

On every side, then, one must be girded up; on every side one must be light-equipped for the journey;

countless pleasures appear on every side, drawing the eyes of the soul—the pleasures of bodies, of riches, of luxury, of indolence, of glory, of anger, of power, of the love of rule; and they appear to have brilliant and desirable faces, able to draw away those who are agitated, those who do not vehemently love the truth;

for she indeed is austere, and has nothing delightful about her.

Why is that? Because she promises all her pleasure in the age to come;

but those pleasures hold out at once honours, delights, reposes—not true ones, but painted over with a false colour.

If, therefore, anyone be vulgar and soft and unmanly, he will cling to those pleasures, being unstrung for the toils undertaken on behalf of virtue.

So also in the outward contests, he who does not vehemently love the crowns is free from the very first to give himself up to feasts and drinking-bouts;

such at least is what the cowardly and unmanly among the boxers do;

but those who look to the crown bear up under countless blows;

for they are nourished and roused up by the hope of the things to come.

Let us therefore flee the root of evils, and we shall flee them all.

'The love of money,' he says, 'is a root'—Paul uttered it, or rather Christ through Paul.

And the very experience of affairs bears witness to it.

For what evil is not on account of money—or rather, not on account of money, but on account of the evil purpose of those who do not know how to use it? Since it was possible to use money for what is needful, it was possible even to inherit a kingdom by means of it;

but now the very things that were given for the succour of the poor, for the consolation of our sins, for winning God's approval and pleasing Him, these we have used against the wretched poor, or rather against our own souls, and to the provoking of God.

For one man has robbed another of his money and cast him into poverty, but himself into death;

and he wastes the one away here by poverty, but himself by everlasting punishment.

Is it then equal? What evil, then, is not on account of these things? Are there not acts of covetousness? robberies? lamentations? enmities? battles? contentions? Have they not stretched out their hands even against the dead? even against fathers and brothers? Have they not overturned the laws of nature, and the commandments of God, and, in a word, everything, being held fast by that desire? Are not the law-courts for the sake of these things? Take away, then, the love of money, and war has ceased, battle has ceased, enmity has ceased, strife and contention have ceased.

Such men ought to be driven out of the world like ravagers and wolves.

For just as certain contrary and violent winds, blowing upon a calm sea, overturn it from its very foundations, so that the sand at the bottom is mingled with the waves above;

so those who love money turn everything upside down.

The lover of money knows no friend;

but why do I say a friend? He does not even acknowledge God Himself;

For being held fast by that lust, he is out of his mind.

Do you not see the Titans advancing sword in hand? Those things are a mere feigning of madness.

But these men are not like that; they are truly mad and beside themselves.

And if you were to strip bare their soul, you would find it thus armed, holding not one sword nor two, but ten thousand; recognizing no one, but raging against all, leaping upon all and howling against all, slaughtering not dogs but the souls of men, and reaching up even to heaven itself.

By these men all things have been overthrown, all things utterly destroyed, through the madness for money.

For whom, whom I am to accuse, I do not know.

So does this pestilence hold all men in its grip, some in a greater share, some in a lesser, yet all alike.

And just as a fire falling upon a forest overturns and lays waste to everything, so also this madness has overturned the whole world.

Kings, rulers, private men, the poor, women, men, children—all alike are held fast by this evil.

As though a thick darkness were breathing over the world, no one comes to his senses.

But while accusations against covetousness are made by the thousands, both in private and in public, correction is nowhere to be found.

What then is to be done? How shall we quench the flame? For it is possible, even if it has been raised up to heaven itself.

We need only to will it, and we shall by all means prevail over the conflagration.

For just as it was made to grow by willing, so also by willing it shall be pulled down.

Was it not our own choice that made it? Then our choice will also be able to quench it.

But how shall the willing come to be? If we see its vanity and superfluousness—

that it cannot depart together with us to that place, since even here it abandons us;

that it itself remains here, but the wounds that come from it depart together with us;

if we see that there is great wealth yonder;

if we compare this wealth to that, it will appear cheaper than mire;

if we see that it has ten thousand dangers, that it offers a pleasure that is but for a season, a pleasure mingled with griefs;

if we consider well that wealth of eternal life, so shall we be able to despise this;

if we see that it profits us in nothing—not toward glory, not toward health, not toward anything else—but on the contrary even plunges us into ruin and destruction;

if you learn that here you are rich and have many under you, but when you depart yonder you will go away destitute and naked.

If we chant these things to ourselves continually, and hear them from others also, perhaps there will be some healing, some deliverance from this grievous chastisement.

The pearl is beautiful? But consider that it is sea-water, that formerly it lay cast within its bosom.

Gold and silver are beautiful? But consider that they both were and are earth and ashes.

Silken garments are beautiful? But they are the weaving of worms.

It is human supposition and preconception; the beauty is not in the nature of the thing.

For those things that have their beauty in their very nature need no one to teach us of it.

But you, if you see a bronze coin simply overlaid with gold color, first you marvel at it, calling it gold;

yet when those skilled in such matters teach you the deception, your wonder departs together with the deception.

Do you see that it does not have its beauty in its nature? Nor does silver either;

for if you see tin, you marvel at it as silver, just as you did the bronze as gold;

and there is need of those who teach what one ought to marvel at.

Thus our eyes do not suffice us for discernment.

But flowers are not such; they are far better than those things.

If you see a rose, there is no need of those who teach; but of yourself you know how to distinguish the anemone and the violets;

so also lilies, and every flower.

So then, what takes place is nothing other than preconception.

And that this ruinous passion is a matter of preconception—come, tell me: if it seemed good to the king to enact by law that silver be more precious than gold, would you not have transferred your wonder and your affection? So everywhere we are subject to covetousness and to mere supposition.

And that it is so: gold is prized also for its rarity, but not by nature;

there are fruits cheap among us, but precious in the land of the Cappadocians; and again, others more costly than those precious among us are found in the land of the Seres, whence come these garments.

And in spice-bearing Arabia and India, where the precious stones are, one may find many such things.

Thus such things are preconception, thus they are but human supposition;

and we do nothing by judgment, but simply and as it may chance.

Let us then at last come to our senses out of this drunkenness;

let us see what is truly beautiful, what is beautiful by nature—godliness, righteousness—that

we may attain the good things that have been promised, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honor to the Father, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.