哥林多後書講道集 第 6 章

'Do we begin again to commend ourselves? Or do we need, as some do, letters of commendation to you, or from you?'

That which was likely to be objected to him by others—namely, 'You are exalting yourself'—this he himself has set down beforehand, anticipating it;

and yet, though he had used so great a correction before, and had said, 'Who is sufficient for these things?' and, 'We speak out of sincerity';

nevertheless he is not content with those things.

For such was his character:

he stood far removed from seeming to say anything great about himself, and fled from it with great abundance and excess.

But do you, I pray, consider from this also the abundance of his wisdom.

That which was gloomy—the afflictions, I mean—he so exalted, and showed to be splendid and illustrious, that this very contrast rose up for him out of what had been said.

And he does the same thing toward the end also.

For after enumerating ten thousand perils, insults, straits, necessities, and all such things, he added, saying, 'We commend not ourselves, but give you occasion of glorying.'

And he sets it down again there vehemently, and with fuller consolation.

For here the words are those of love—'Do we need, as some do, letters of commendation?'—but there the words spoken are laden with a certain lofty spirit, uttered of necessity and profitably and with indignation.

'For we do not again,' he says, 'commend ourselves, but give you occasion of glorying.'

And, 'Do you again think that we are making a defense to you? We speak before God in Christ.'

'For I fear, lest by any means, when I come, I should not find you such as I would, and that I should be found by you such as you would not.'

For lest he should seem to be courting the reputation of flattery, as though longing for the honor that comes from them, he says these things: 'I fear, lest by any means, when I come, I should not find you such as I would, and I too be found by you such as you would not.'

But these words are spoken with much reproach;

yet at the beginning it was not so, but more gently.

But what is it that he says? He had spoken concerning the trials and the perils, and that everywhere he is led in triumph by God in Christ, and that the whole world knows these triumphs.

Since therefore he had uttered great things concerning himself, he raises an objection against himself, saying:

'Do we begin again to commend ourselves?' And what he means is this:

Perhaps someone will object to us, 'What is this, O Paul? Do you say these things concerning yourself, and exalt yourself?' Therefore, resolving this suspicion, he says that 'This is not what we desire—namely, to boast and to exalt ourselves;'

but we are so far from needing letters of commendation to you, that you yourselves serve us instead of a letter.

'For you are our epistle,' he says.

What does 'You are' mean? If we needed to be commended to others, we would bring you forward into the midst instead of a letter;

which also in the former Epistle he was saying:

'For the seal of my apostleship are you.'

But here he does not speak so, but with a certain irony, so as to make his word more forceful:

'Unless we need letters of commendation?' And hinting at the false apostles, he added:

'As some do, letters of commendation to you, or from you to others.'

Then, since what had been said was severe, he softens it by adding and saying:

'You are our epistle, written in our hearts, known by all;'

'being made manifest that you are an epistle of Christ.'

Here he testifies to them not only love, but also good deeds, seeing that they are able to display to all men, through their own virtue, the dignity of their teacher.

For this is the meaning of 'You are our epistle.'

What letters commending us and making us worthy of respect would have accomplished, this you accomplish, both by being seen and being heard.

For the virtue of disciples is wont to adorn the teacher and to commend him more than any epistle.

'Written in our hearts.'

That is, one which all men know;

so do we carry you about everywhere, and hold you in mind;

as if he were saying, You are our commendation to others;

for indeed we have you continually in our heart, and to all men we proclaim your good deeds.

Not therefore, because you are our commendation even to others, do we need letters from you;

but also, because we love you exceedingly, we do not need commendation to you;

for it is toward those who are strangers that one needs letters;

but you are in our mind.

And he did not say simply, 'You are,' but 'Written;'

that is, you cannot even fall away.

For just as men reading from letters, so, knowing from our heart, all men know our love, which we have toward you.

If therefore letters exist for this purpose, that they may show that so-and-so is my friend and may enjoy freedom of access, your love suffices to accomplish everything.

For whether we go to you, we need no others to commend us, since your friendship goes before us;

or whether we go to others, again we need no letters, since that same love stands instead of these.

For we carry the epistle about in our hearts.

Then, lifting them up to something yet greater, he even calls them an epistle of Christ, saying:

'Being made manifest that you are an epistle of Christ.'

And having said this, he thereupon takes an occasion and a starting point from here to examine the things of the Law.

And in another sense too he here says that they are an epistle;

for higher up he spoke of them as commending;

but here as an epistle of Christ, as having the law of God written within them.

For the things which God willed to make manifest to all and to you, these have been written in your hearts.

And we prepared you, so that you might receive the writing.

Just as Moses carved the stones and the tablets, so we have carved your souls;

wherefore he says, 'Ministered by us.'

But in this respect they had equality;

for those tablets too were written by God, and these by the Spirit.

Where then is the difference? 'Written, not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God;'

'not on tablets of stone, but on tablets that are hearts of flesh.'

And by as much as the distance is between the Spirit and ink, and a tablet of stone and one of flesh, by so much is the difference between these and those;

and consequently also between those who ministered these things and him who ministered those to them.

For this very reason, since he had uttered a great thing, he quickly checks himself, saying:

'And such confidence we have through Christ toward God;'

and again he refers the whole to God;

'for of these things,' he says, 'Christ is to us the cause.'

'Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to reckon anything as from ourselves.'

Behold again yet another correction.

For indeed he possessed this virtue above all in a surpassing degree—I mean humility.

Wherefore, whenever he says anything great concerning himself, he uses all diligence, so as vehemently to soften what has been said by every means;

which he does here also, saying, 'Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to reckon anything as from ourselves.'

That is: I did not so say 'We have confidence' as though part were ours and part God's;

but I ascribe and reckon the whole to Him.

'For our sufficiency is of God, who also made us sufficient as ministers of a new Covenant.'

What is 'He made sufficient'? He made us able and fit.

And this is no small thing—to have brought such tablets and epistles to the whole world, far greater than the former ones.

Not of the letter, but of the spirit.

What then? Was that Law not spiritual? How then does he say, 'We know that the Law is spiritual'? Spiritual indeed it was, yet it did not furnish the Spirit.

For Moses did not bring the Spirit, but letters.

But we have been entrusted to bestow the Spirit.

Therefore he works this out further, saying:

'For the letter kills, but the spirit gives life.'

He says these things not without purpose, but hinting at those who took great pride in Jewish things.

By 'letter' here he means the Law, which punishes those who transgress;

but by 'spirit' he means the grace which through baptism gives life to those who were deadened by their sins.

For having stated the difference arising from the nature of the tablets, he does not dwell upon it, but passing it by, he elaborates rather on that point by which he could most win over his hearer, namely from what is advantageous and light.

'For it has no toil,' he says, 'and it bestows the greater grace.'

For if, when discoursing concerning Christ, he especially sets forth those things which belong rather to His loving-kindness than to His worth, and which are bound up with one another,

how much more, in the matter of the covenant, does he do this of necessity.

What then does 'the letter kills' mean? He had said, 'on tablets of stone, and on tablets that are hearts of flesh,' but he did not yet seem to be speaking of any great difference.

So he added that the one was written with letter or ink, but this one with the Spirit.

Neither did this greatly rouse them.

So then he goes on to say what was enough to give them wings, namely that the one kills, but the other gives life.

And what is this? Under the Law, the one who has committed sin is punished;

but here, the one who has committed sin comes forward and is baptized, and becomes righteous;

and having become righteous, he lives, being set free from the death of sin.

If the Law seizes a murderer, it destroys him;

but grace, if it seizes a murderer, enlightens and gives him life.

And why do I speak of a murderer? The Law took a man who had gathered sticks on the Sabbath, and stoned him; and

this is what 'the letter kills' means.

Grace takes countless murderers and robbers, and by baptizing them frees them from their former evils;

this is what 'the spirit gives life' means.

The one makes the man it catches dead out of living;

the other fashions the guilty man living out of dead.

'For come to me,' he says, 'all you who labor and are heavy laden;'

and He did not say, 'I will punish you,' but, 'I will give you rest.'

For in baptism our sins are buried, our former deeds are blotted out, the man is made alive, and, as upon a tablet, all grace is inscribed upon his very heart.

Consider then how great is the worth of the Spirit, when its tablets are better than the former ones, when it displays something even greater than the resurrection itself.

For this deadening was more grievous than the former one, from which He also delivers, and by as much as the soul is better than the body;

and this life which the Spirit gives is established through that former one;

but if He is able to bestow this greater one, much more the lesser;

for the former the prophets accomplished, but this one no longer.

For no one is able to forgive sins, except God alone.

No, nor did the prophets furnish even that former one apart from the Spirit.

And this is not the only marvel, that He gives life, but that He also granted others to do this.

'For receive,' He says, 'the Holy Spirit.'

Why? For was it not possible apart from the Spirit? But God, showing that this belongs to the supreme authority and to that royal essence, and that He has the same power, says this also;

wherefore He also adds, 'Whosoever sins you remit, they are remitted, and whosoever sins you retain, they are retained.'

Since then He has made us alive, let us remain living, and not go back again to our former deadness;

for Christ dies no more.

'For in that He died, He died unto sin once for all;'

and He does not wish us always to be saved by grace, since then we shall be empty of all things;

wherefore He wishes that something also be contributed by us.

Let us then contribute, and let us keep the soul alive.

And what the life of the soul is, learn from the body.

For we say the body then lives, when it walks with a sound gait;

but when it lies dissolved by disease, and moves contrary to order, even though it seem to live or to walk, such a life is more grievous than any death.

And if it utters nothing sound, but the words of the deranged, and sees one thing instead of another, again such a one is more pitiable than the dead.

So too the soul, when it has nothing sound, even though it seem to live, is dead;

when it does not see gold as gold, but as something great and precious; when it does not think upon the things to come, but is dragged along the ground; when it does one thing instead of another.

For whence is it plain that we have a soul? Is it not from its activities? When then it does not perform its own works, has it not died? For instance, when it does not care for virtue, but plunders and transgresses the law, whence can I say that you have a soul? Because you walk? But this belongs even to the irrational beasts.

But because you eat and drink? But this belongs even to the wild beasts.

But because you stand upright on two feet? This rather shows me that you are a beast in human form.

For when you have all else that belongs to a man, but no longer the upward-rising of the soul, you the more disturb and terrify me, and I the more account the thing that appears to be a monster.

For if I saw a beast speaking with a human voice, I would not on that account say it was a man, but rather on that very account a beast more monstrous than a beast.

Whence then shall I be able to learn that you have the soul of a man, when you kick like the asses, when you bear malice like the camels, when you bite like the bears, when you plunder like the wolves, when you steal like the foxes, when you are crafty like the serpents, when you are shameless like the dog? Whence shall I be able to learn that you have the soul of a man? Would you have me show you a soul dead and a soul living? Let us bring our discourse back again to those men of old, and, if you please, let us set in the midst the rich man in the story of Lazarus, and we shall know what the deadening of the soul is.

For that man too had a dead soul, and this is plain from what he did;

for of the works of the soul he did none, but only ate and drank and lived in luxury.

Such also are they now who are unmerciful and cruel;

for these too have a dead soul, just as

For all its warmth that comes from love toward one's neighbor has been consumed, and it is more dead than a lifeless body.

But the poor man was not such; rather, standing at the very summit of philosophy, he shone forth;

and wrestling with continual hunger, and not even having a supply of necessary food, not even so did he utter anything blasphemous against God, but bore all things nobly.

And this is no small work of the soul, but the greatest proof of its vigor and health.

But when these things are not present, it is plain that it has perished through being deadened.

Or shall we not call that soul dead, tell me, upon which the devil advances, striking, goading, biting, kicking, while it perceives none of these things, but lies deadened, and when its substance is taken away it feels no pain, but he leaps upon it while it remains motionless, like a body from which the soul has departed, perceiving nothing? For when the fear of God is not present with exactness, that soul must needs be such, and more wretched than the dead. For the soul is not dissolved, like the body, into gore and ashes and dust, but into things more foul than these—into drunkenness and wrath and covetousness, into unnatural lusts and unseasonable desires.

But if you wish to see its foul stench more exactly, give me a pure soul, and then you will see clearly how noisome this shameful and unclean thing is.

For at present you will not be able to perceive it;

for so long as we are accustomed to the stench, we do not feel it;

but when we are nourished with spiritual words, then we shall come to know that evil;

and yet to many this seems a matter of indifference.

And I am not yet speaking of hell;

but, if you please, let us examine the things of the present, and consider not the man who does shameful deeds, but the man who utters shameful words — how ridiculous he is, and how he first of all disgraces himself;

just as one who lets forth some filthy mire from his mouth, so does he defile himself.

For if the stream is so unclean, consider what the fountain of this mire must be;

for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.

But I grieve not for this reason alone, but because to some this does not even seem to be among the things that are amiss.

From this all evils grow, when we both sin and do not even think that we are doing wrong.

Do you wish, then, to learn how great an evil it is to utter shameful words? Consider those who hear, how they blush at your unseemliness.

For what is more worthless than a man of foul speech? What more dishonorable? For such men thrust themselves into the rank of buffoons and of harlot women;

or rather, those women blush more than you do.

How can you teach a woman to be chaste, when by these words you train her to lapse into wantonness? It is better to let forth rottenness from your mouth than a shameful word.

Yet as it is, if your mouth smells foul, you do not even partake of the common food;

but though there is so great a stench in your soul, do you dare to partake of the Mysteries, tell me? And if someone took an unclean vessel and set it upon your table, you would drive him off, beating him with sticks;

yet when it is God who is upon His own table (for our mouth, when filled with thanksgiving, is His table), and you bring forth words more abominable than any unclean vessel, do you not think, tell me, that you provoke Him? And how can this be otherwise? For nothing so angers the Holy and the Pure One as these words;

nothing makes men so reckless and shameless as speaking and hearing such things;

nothing so unstrings the sinews of chastity as the flame kindled by these words.

God has placed sweet ointment in your mouth;

but you lay up words more foul than a corpse, and destroy your very soul, and render it motionless.

For when you revile, this is not the voice of the soul, but of wrath;

when you speak shameful things, it is not she who has spoken, but licentiousness;

when you slander, it is envy;

when you plot against another, it is covetousness.

For these things are not of her, but of her passions and her diseases.

Therefore, just as corruption belongs not simply to the body, but to death and to the affliction that is in the body;

so likewise these things too belong to the passions that supervene upon her.

For if you wish to hear the voice of a living soul, hear Paul saying:

and, Godliness is great gain;

and, The world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.

Hear Peter saying, Silver and gold have I none;

but what I have, that I give you;

hear Job giving thanks and saying, The Lord gave, the Lord has taken away.

These are the words of a living soul, of one exercising its proper activity.

If the Lord will give me bread to eat and a garment to put on;

so also Joseph: How shall I do this wicked thing, and sin before God? But not so that barbarian woman; rather, as one drunk and raving, so she spoke, saying, Lie with me.

Knowing these things, then, let us emulate the living soul, and flee the deadened one, that we may also attain the life to come;

which may it be granted us all to share, by the grace and lovingkindness, and so forth.