提摩太前書講道集 第 7 章

That we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and dignity.

For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour, who wills that all men should be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth.

If He wills that the wars common to all be dissolved, along with the battles and the tumults, and for this reason exhorts the priest to make prayers on behalf of kings and rulers, much more ought private persons also to do this.

For there are three kinds of wars that are the most grievous:

one is this common kind, when our soldiers are warred upon by barbarians;

the second, when, even in time of peace, we war against one another;

the third, when each man wars against himself.

And this indeed is the most grievous of all.

For that war from the barbarians will be able to do us no great harm;

for what, tell me? It slew and killed, but it did no injury to the soul.

But neither will the second be able to harm us at all, unless we ourselves are willing.

Though they war against us, it is in our power to be peaceable;

for hear the prophet saying, 'In return for my love they slandered me, but I gave myself to prayer;'

and again, 'With those who hated peace I was peaceable;'

and again, 'When I spoke to them, they warred against me without cause.'

But the third it is not possible to escape without peril.

For when the body rises up in revolt against the soul, and stirs up grievous lusts, and arms the pleasures of the body, of anger, of envy, it is not possible, unless this war be dissolved, to obtain the promised good things; but he who does not suppress this tumult must of necessity fall and receive wounds, that death which begets the death in Gehenna.

We have need therefore each day of much care and forethought, that this war may neither be stirred up within us, nor, once stirred up, may remain, but may be suppressed and lulled to sleep.

For what profit would there be, when the whole world enjoys deep peace, but you are at war with yourself? This peace it is that we must have;

if we have this, nothing from without will be able to harm us.

And to this the common peace also contributes not a little;

for this reason he says, 'That we may lead a tranquil and quiet life.'

But if anyone, when there is quiet, is troubled, he is exceedingly wretched.

You see that he speaks of this peace, which I call the third? Therefore, having said, 'That we may lead a tranquil and quiet life,' he did not stop there, but added, 'in all godliness and dignity.'

But to be in godliness and dignity is not possible, unless that peace be accomplished.

For when questioning thoughts trouble our faith, what peace is there? When spirits of wantonness assail, what peace is there? For lest you should think that he speaks simply of that life which all men live, having said, 'That we may lead a tranquil and quiet life,' he adds, 'in all godliness and dignity;'

since it is possible even for Greeks to lead a tranquil and quiet life, and you might find the licentious, the luxurious, and the self-indulgent living this life.

In order therefore that you may learn that he does not mean this life, he adds, 'in all godliness and dignity.'

For that life has treacheries and battles, the soul being each day wounded by the tumults that are in the thoughts.

And that he wishes to signify this life, is plain from what he adds, and plain also from his not saying simply 'in godliness,' but with the addition of 'all.'

For in saying this, he seems to require not only that conduct which comes from doctrines, but also that which is made secure by one's manner of life;

for in both godliness must be sought.

For what profit is there, if being godly in faith one is ungodly through one's life? For that it is possible to be ungodly through one's life, hear this blessed man again saying elsewhere:

'They profess to know God, but by their works they deny Him;'

and again, 'He has denied the faith, and is worse than an unbeliever;'

and again, 'If anyone who is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, such a one does not honour God;'

and again, 'He who hates his brother knows not God.'

You see how many are the forms of ungodliness? For this reason he says, 'in all godliness and dignity.'

For not the fornicator only is undignified, but the covetous man also might be called undignified and licentious;

for indeed this too is a lust no less than that of the body.

He then who does not chastise it is called licentious;

for it is because of not chastising desire that men are called licentious.

So that I for my part would call the irascible man licentious too, and the malicious, and the money-lover, and the crafty, and everyone who is in sin, to be licentious and undignified and wanton.

'For this is good and acceptable,' he says, 'in the sight of God our Saviour.'

What is this? To pray for all: this God accepts, this He wills.

'For He wills,' he says, 'that all men should be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth.'

If He wills that all men be saved, then it is fitting to pray for all.

If He Himself has willed that all be saved, then you too must will it; for it belongs to such as these to pray.

For to pray belongs to men of this kind.

Do you see how from every side he has persuaded the soul to pray even for the heathen? And showing how great a gain is born from this, he says, 'That we may lead a quiet and peaceable life.'

And what is far greater than this: that this also is pleasing to God, and that in this respect we become like Him, in that we will the same things that He wills.

These things are enough to shame even a wild beast.

Do not therefore be afraid to pray for the heathen;

He Himself wills this.

Only fear to pray against them.

But if we ought to pray for the heathen, then plainly for heretics also;

for we must pray for all men, not persecute them.

And this is good in yet another way, from the fact that we share in the same nature;

and God too praises and accepts the goodwill and the tender affection we have toward one another.

'If then the Lord Himself wills to give,' someone says, 'what need is there of prayers from me?' This contributes much both to them and to you: it draws them toward love, and again it does not permit you to become brutalised.

And these things are enough to draw them toward the faith.

For many men, through their contentiousness toward one another, have fallen away from God.

This he now calls the salvation of God, who said, 'He wills that all men should be saved';

since this too is truly salvation;

for apart from this the other salvation is nothing great, but is only the name and appellation of salvation.

'And to come,' he says, 'to the knowledge of the truth.'

The truth of what kind? The faith that is in Him.

And indeed he had said before, 'Charge them that they teach no other doctrine';

but that no one should regard them as enemies, nor weave quarrels out of this, he says:

'He wills that all men should be saved, and come to the knowledge of the truth.'

Then, having said this, he added:

'For there is one God, and one Mediator between God and men.'

He said, 'to come to the knowledge of the truth,' showing that the world is not in the truth.

'For there is one God,' showing that there are not many, as some suppose.

He said that He sent both a Mediator and a Son, showing that He wills all to be saved.

What then? Is the Son not God? Assuredly He is.

How then does he say 'One'? In contradistinction to the idols, not to the Son;

for his discourse was concerning truth and error.

Now the mediator must have communion with both of those between whom he is mediator;

for this is the property of a mediator: to have communion with each of the two between whom he is mediator, holding to both.

But if he holds to the one, while being separated from the other, he is no longer a mediator.

If then He does not partake of the nature of the Father, He is not a Mediator, but is separated from Him.

For just as He partakes of the nature of men, since He came to men, so also He partakes of the nature of God, since He came from God.

For since He became the middle point of two natures, He must be near to both natures.

For just as the midpoint of any place is near to both places, so also the midpoint of the natures must be near to both natures.

Just as, therefore, He became man, so also He was God.

A mere man could not have become a mediator;

for he would have needed also to converse with God;

God alone could not have become a mediator;

for those between whom He mediated would not have received Him.

Just as there he says, 'One God the Father, and one Lord Jesus Christ,' so also here, 'One and one.'

For since he was discoursing about polytheism, lest anyone should seize upon the number 'two' as an argument for polytheism, he set down 'One and one.'

Do you see how the Scripture uses its words with great precision? For 'one and one' makes two;

yet we will not say this, even though reasoning suggests it.

But what not even reasoning suggests, this you say: that if He begat, He suffered.

'For there is one God,' he says, 'and one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave Himself a ransom for all, the testimony in its own times.'

What then? For the heathen also, tell me? Yes.

And though Christ even died for the heathen, will you not endure even to pray for them? 'How then,' he says, 'did they not believe?' Because they were not willing;

but His part was accomplished.

The Passion is a testimony, he says.

'For He came,' he says, 'to bear witness to the truth of the Father, and was slain.'

So that not only does the Father bear witness to Him, but He also bears witness to the Father.

'For I am come in My Father's name,' He says;

and again, 'No one has ever seen God';

and again, 'That they may know Thee the only true God.'

Even unto death, therefore, He bore witness.

And the phrase 'in its own times' means 'at the fitting times.'

'Unto which I was appointed a herald and an apostle (I speak the truth, I do not lie), a teacher of the Gentiles in faith and truth.'

Since then Christ suffered on behalf of the Gentiles, and I too was set apart as a teacher of the Gentiles, for what reason do you not pray for them? Here he fittingly shows his own trustworthiness by the words 'unto which I was appointed a herald,' that is, 'I was set apart';

for the apostles were altogether reluctant toward this.

Then he added, 'a teacher of the Gentiles in faith and truth.'

But do not suppose, because you heard 'in faith,' that the matter is a deception;

for he says also, 'in truth.'

But if it is truth, then it is no lie.

Do you see how the grace has been spread abroad? For among the Jews the prayers were not offered for such people; but now the grace has been extended to all.

For this reason also he said that he had been set apart as a teacher of the Gentiles, hinting at the grace that had been poured out everywhere throughout the world.

'Who gave himself,' he says, 'as a ransom.'

How then was he delivered up by the Father? Surely, then, it came about through his own goodness.

He was about to punish them;

but instead of them he gave his own Son, and sent us as heralds, that we might proclaim the cross.

These things are enough to draw all men, and to display the love of Christ.

For truly great and unspeakable are the things which have been shown by God toward us.

He offered himself in sacrifice for his enemies, for those who hated him, for those who turned away from him.

Which no one would do even for friends, nor for children, nor for brothers—a Master for slaves; and he did it not as a master such as slaves are, but as God for men, and for men who were not even of good repute.

For if they had been of good repute, if they had been well-pleasing, it would not have been so marvellous;

but now this is what astounds every mind—to die for such ungrateful and thankless creatures.

For what does not happen from men toward their own kinsmen, this came about from God toward us;

and having enjoyed such great love, we still put on airs, and do not love Christ.

He offered himself in sacrifice for us;

but we overlook him when he lacks even necessary food, and when he is sick and naked we do not visit him.

Of how much wrath are these things worthy, of how much punishment, of how much hell-fire? For if there were nothing else, this alone at least—that he deigned to make the sufferings of men his own, and to say, 'I hunger and I thirst'—was it not enough to move all men? But, O the tyranny of riches!

or rather, O the wretchedness of those who have willingly enslaved themselves to it!

It is not those things that have great strength, but we who are utterly enfeebled and enslaved, we who are lowly and earthbound, we who are fleshly, we who are without understanding;

for their strength is not great.

For what can it do, tell me? It is deaf and without feeling.

If the devil is nothing—that foul demon, so wicked and stirring up all things—what power then have riches? If you see silver, reckon it to be tin.

But you cannot? Then reckon this, which is the truth—that it is earth.

But do you not even accept this reasoning? Consider that we too shall perish, that many of those who possessed it gained almost no benefit from it, that countless men who boasted in it became ashes and dust, that even now they pay the uttermost penalty—being found far poorer than those who lived amid earthenware and glass, and those who feasted on ivory couches being often more destitute than those on the dunghill.

Sights? But many other things can delight more than these.

For indeed the flowers, and the pure air, and the sky, and the sun delight far more.

For this metal has much rust, so that many have even declared it to be black;

and this is clear from the impressions that turn black;

but in the sun there is nothing black, nor in the sky, nor in the stars.

There is far more enjoyment in these flowers than in that colour.

It is not, then, the metal that delights, but covetousness, injustice;

this it is that delights the soul, not the silver.

Cast this out of the soul, and you will see that what seems precious is baser than mud;

since those in fever, even if they see filth, long after it as if it were springs of water;

but those who are healthy as they ought to be often do not even desire water.

Cast out the disease, and you will see things as they truly are.

And that you may learn that I am not lying, I can point to many who have done this.

Quench the fire, and you will see that these things are cheaper than flowers.

Is gold beautiful? But it is beautiful for almsgiving, beautiful for the relief of the poor, not for useless use—that it should be hoarded within, that it should be buried in the earth, that it should be hung about hands and feet and heads.

For this reason it was found: not that we should fetter the image of God with it, but that we should loose those who are bound;

for this end use the gold;

loose him who is bound, do not bind her who is free.

For why, tell me, do you prefer the most worthless thing of all? Is it, because it is gold, that it no longer makes a chain? Does the material make the chain? Whether it be gold or iron, it is the same;

and yet this one is even heavier than that.

But what makes the matter seem light? Vainglory, and being seen by all in her bonds—for which she ought rather to be ashamed.

For that this is true—bind her, and leave her in a wilderness where no one beholds her, and she is weighed down by the bond and thinks it burdensome.

Let us fear, beloved, lest we hear those terrible words, 'Bind him hand and foot.'

Why do you now do this to yourself, woman? No prisoner is bound hand and foot.

Why do you also bind your head? Is it not enough for hands and feet? Why do you also cast about your neck a thousand bonds? I pass over the anxiety that comes from these things, the fear, the agony, the strife with your husband on their behalf, if ever you should have need of them, the death you undergo if ever any of them should be lost.

Are these things, then, pleasure, tell me? That another may delight his eyes, do you subject yourself to bonds and anxieties and dangers and vexations and daily strife? Is not this worthy of every accusation and condemnation? Let us not, I beseech you, let us not do these things, but let us loose every bond of injustice, let us break our bread to the hungry;

let us do all the other things that can secure for us boldness before God, that we may attain the good things promised in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father together with the Holy Spirit be glory, might, and honour, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.