提摩太前書講道集 第 18 章

I charge you before God who gives life to all things, and before Christ Jesus, who before Pontius Pilate witnessed the good confession, that you keep the commandment without spot and blameless until the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ;

which in its own times the blessed and only Sovereign shall show, the King of those who reign, and Lord of those who lord it, who alone has immortality, dwelling in unapproachable light, whom no one of men has seen, nor is able to see; to whom be honor and everlasting might.

Again he calls God to witness, having done this a little before, at once both increasing the fear and making the disciple more steadfast, and showing that these injunctions are not human, so that, receiving the charge as from the Master Himself, and always having the witness in mind from the moment he heard it, he may keep his understanding shaken awake by the remembrance.

'I charge you,' he says, 'before God who gives life to all things.'

Here there is both an encouragement in the face of dangers, and a reminder of the resurrection.

'And of Christ Jesus,' he says, 'who witnessed before Pontius Pilate.'

Again the exhortation is drawn from the Teacher.

'As He did,' he says, 'so you also ought to do.'

For this reason He bore witness, that we might tread in His steps the good confession;

which he does also in the Epistle to the Hebrews, saying:

'Looking unto Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.'

And again, 'For consider Him who endured such gainsaying of sinners against Himself, lest you grow weary, fainting in your souls.'

This too he now does toward the disciple;

as if he were saying, 'Do not fear death;'

'For you are the servant of God, who is able to make all things alive.'

But what good confession does he mean? That which, when Pilate questioned Him, 'Are you then a king?', He answered, 'For this I have been born.'

And again, 'I came to bear witness to the truth.'

Either then he speaks of this, or of when, being asked whether He was the Son of God, He said, 'You say that I am the Son of God.'

And He witnessed and confessed many other things.

'That you keep the commandment without spot and blameless until the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ;'

that is, until your own end, until your departure.

But he did not put it so; rather he said, 'Until the appearing,' that he might the more rouse him to action.

What does it mean, 'That you keep the commandment without spot'? That he contract no stain, neither on account of doctrine nor of manner of life.

'Which in its own times,' he says, 'He shall show, who is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who alone has immortality, dwelling in unapproachable light.'

Of whom are these things spoken? Is it of the Father? Is it of the Son? Assuredly of the Son.

'Which in its own times He shall show, the blessed and only Sovereign.'

And this too, again, is said for consolation, that he might not marvel at, nor dread, the kings of this present world.

That is, at the fitting seasons, at those that are due.

So that he should not be vexed that it has not yet come to pass.

And whence is it plain that He will show it? From His being Sovereign.

Therefore He will show it, the Blessed One, blessedness itself.

And he says this to make plain that there is nothing grievous there, nothing unpleasant.

As for the word 'Only,' he has said it either by way of distinction from men, or on account of His being unbegotten.

Which we ourselves also often say of men whom we wish to set apart.

'Who alone has immortality,' he says.

What then? Does the Son not have it? Is He not immortality itself? And how could He not be, being of the very same essence with the Father? 'Dwelling,' he says, 'in unapproachable light.'

Is the light one thing, and He that dwells in it another? Then is He also comprehended within a place? Away with the thought!

It was not that we might conceive this, but that he might set forth the incomprehensibility of the divine nature, that he said He dwells in unapproachable light, thus speaking of God as it was possible for him to do.

Do you see too, when the tongue would utter some great thing, how it grows faint? 'Whom no one of men has seen,' he says, 'nor can see.'

Just as, then, no one has seen the Son, nor can see Him.

'To whom be honor and might everlasting.'

He has here spoken of God well, and of necessity.

For since he had brought Him forward as a witness, he discourses much concerning the Witness, so as the more to put the disciple to shame.

This only can we say, this only can we do: not to busy ourselves curiously as to who He is.

If then His might is everlasting, do not be afraid.

Even though it come not to pass now, honor is His forever, might is His forever.

'Charge those who are rich in this present world not to be high-minded.'

Well did he say, 'In this present world.'

For there are also others rich in the world to come.

He gives this exhortation knowing that nothing so breeds conceit and folly and arrogance as riches.

Then straightway he pulls them down, saying:

'Nor to set their hope upon the uncertainty of riches.'

For from this comes their folly.

Whereas he that hopes in God is not lifted up.

Why do you hope upon that which is suddenly removed? for such is wealth.

And how do you hope in that in which it is not possible to be confident? But how, he says, will they be able not to be high-minded? If they see that this thing is unstable, insecure.

If they see that the hope which comes from God is greater than wealth;

If they see that of this very thing also God is the author.

'But upon God,' he says, 'the living God, who gives us all things richly to enjoy.'

Well did he say, 'All things richly,' hinting at the yearly changes of season, the air, the light, the water, and all the rest.

Do you see how richly He supplies, and with great abundance? If you seek wealth, seek that which abides, which is secure, which comes from good works.

This too he himself declares, saying: 'To do good, to be rich in good works, to be ready to distribute, willing to communicate';

the one belongs to money, the other to love.

By 'willing to communicate' he means affable, gracious.

'Laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come.'

But where the foundation is secure, there is nothing unstable, but all things are secure, immovable, fixed, abiding.

'That they may lay hold,' he says, 'on eternal life.'

For the practice of good works is able to procure for us the enjoyment of that life.

'O Timothy, keep that which is committed to your trust.'

It is not your own; you were entrusted with what belongs to another.

'Avoiding,' he says, 'the profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of knowledge falsely so called.'

For when faith is not present, knowledge is not present either;

when something is begotten out of one's own reasonings, there is no knowledge.

Or perhaps he says this because certain persons at that time called themselves Gnostics, as knowing something more than the rest.

'Which,' he says, 'some professing have erred concerning the faith.'

Do you see how again he bids us not so much as to engage with such men? 'Avoiding,' he says, 'the oppositions.'

So then there are oppositions to which one ought not even to make answer.

Why? Because they cast a man out of the faith, because they do not suffer him to stand firmly nor to be fixed.

Let us then not cling to this, but to faith, the rock that cannot be broken.

For neither floods nor winds, though they beat upon us, shall be able to do us any harm;

for we stand upon the rock unshaken.

So also in this present life, if

we choose that which is truly the foundation, we stand again, suffering nothing dreadful.

He that chooses that Wealth shall suffer nothing dreadful; he that chooses that good repute, that glory, that honor, that pleasure;

all those things are secure, there is no change;

all things here are altered and lie subject to change, all things are transformed.

For what is it you desire? Glory? 'His glory,' he says, 'shall not descend after him';

and oftentimes it does not even abide with him while he lives.

But the things of virtue are not such; rather, they all abide.

He that is here glorious from his office, when another has succeeded to the office, has become of no account, and one of the ruled;

the rich man, either when robbers set upon him, or slanderers and plotters, has suddenly become poor.

But things are not so with us.

If the self-controlled man gives heed to himself, no one will be able to strip him of his self-mastery.

No one will reduce to a private station the man who rules and masters himself, nor make him a subject.

That this rule is greater than that other one, learn from the examination itself.

For what profit is there, tell me, in ruling whole nations, and yet being a slave to the passions? And what harm is there in ruling over no human being, and yet being superior to the tyranny of the passions? This is freedom, this is rule, this is kingship and dominion.

The other is slavery, even though a man should wear ten thousand diadems.

For when a multitude of masters rules over him from within—I mean the love of money, the love of pleasure, anger, and the other passions—what profit is there in the diadem? Greater is the tyranny of the passions, when not even the crown has power to deliver him from this subjection.

It is as if a man had become king among barbarians but was in servitude, and then those barbarians, wishing to make his rule appear the greater, should take away neither the purple robe nor the diadem, but along with these should command him to carry water, to cook, and to perform all the other menial services—so that to them belonged the greater honour, but to him the shame.

So also now, more barbarously than any barbarian do these passions deal with us.

For he who despises these will laugh even at the barbarians;

but he who bows beneath them will suffer things far more dreadful than at the hands of the barbarians.

The barbarian, when he prevails greatly, tortures the body; but these passions torment the soul, mangling it on every side.

The barbarian, when he prevails greatly, delivers a man over to this present death; but these deliver him over to the death that is to come.

So that he alone is free who possesses freedom from within, just as he alone is a slave who bows beneath the irrational passions.

No master, even though he be exceedingly harsh, lays down such savage and cruel commands.

'Bring shame upon your own soul,' it says, 'to no purpose and in vain; give offence to God; disregard nature herself; though it be your father, though your mother, have no reverence, but stand against them.'

For such are the injunctions of the love of money.

'Sacrifice to me,' it says, 'not calves, but men.'

And the prophet indeed says, 'Sacrifice men,'

for the calves had failed;

but this passion does not say that; rather, while calves are at hand, it says, 'Sacrifice men, slaughter those who have done no wrong;

even though you have been benefited by him, kill him.'

Again: 'Be an enemy; go about as the common foe of all, even of nature herself, and of God;

gather gold, not that you may enjoy it, but that you may guard it, that you may make your torment the greater.'

For it is not possible that the lover of money should also be one who enjoys it;

for he is afraid lest his gold should be diminished, lest his treasures should grow poor.

'Keep watch,' it says, 'hold all in suspicion, both servants and friends;

if you see a poor man perishing with hunger, give him no share, but, if it be possible, strip off even his skin.'

'Swear falsely, lie, take oaths, accuse, slander; and though you must enter into fire, do not decline it; though you must undergo ten thousand deaths, though you must be destroyed by hunger, though you must wrestle with disease.'

Does not the love of money lay down these very laws? 'Be bold and shameless, without conscience and reckless, defiled and depraved, thankless, unfeeling, friendless, implacable, without natural affection, a slayer of your own father, a wild beast rather than'—

'Surpass every serpent in bitterness, every wolf in rapacity; go beyond even the ferocity of that beast's nature;

and though you must come to the wickedness of a demon, do not decline it.'

Does it not say these things, and is it not obeyed? But God says the contrary:

'Be a friend to all, be gentle, beloved by all; give offence to no one to no purpose and in vain; honour your father, honour your mother; enjoy a good reputation; be not a man, but an angel;

utter nothing shameless, nothing false, nor even conceive such a thing in your mind;

succour those in need; do not force yourself into troubles by seizing what is another's; be not insolent nor reckless.'

Is not hell then just? Is not the fire fitting, and the worm that never dies? How long shall we thrust ourselves over precipices? How long shall we walk upon thorns? How long shall we pierce ourselves through with nails, and even give thanks for it? We submit ourselves to cruel tyrants, and reject the gentle Master, who lays upon us nothing burdensome, nor barbarous, nor grievous, nor unprofitable, but all things useful and gainful, and bestowing on us great benefit.

Let us then at length rouse ourselves, gather ourselves together, brace ourselves, and love God as we ought, that we may be counted worthy of the good things promised to those who love Him, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honour, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.