使徒行傳講道集 第 49 章

And it came to pass, that, when I had returned to Jerusalem, while I prayed in the temple, I fell into a trance, and saw Him saying unto me:

Make haste, and get quickly out of Jerusalem, for they will not receive thy testimony concerning Me. And I said:

Lord, they themselves know that I was imprisoning and beating in the synagogues those who believed on Thee;

and when the blood of Stephen Thy martyr was being shed, I also was standing by, and consenting to his slaying, and keeping the garments of those who slew him.

See how he thrusts himself into dangers.

And it came to pass, that, when I had returned to Jerusalem—

that is, After that vision I came again to Jerusalem.

And while I prayed in the temple, I fell into a trance, and saw Him saying unto me:

Make haste, and get quickly out, for they will not receive thee.

Observe, not even this is without attestation, but the testimony comes from the outcome.

He said: They will not receive thy testimony;

and yet, from reasoning, one would have supposed that they would certainly receive it.

For I was the one imprisoning and beating them, he says.

So that for this reason they ought to have received him;

wherefore he learns even this in the trance—that his testimony would not be received.

Here he establishes two things: both that they are without excuse;

for they were not persecuting him according to what was probable, nor according to reason;

and that Christ was God, prophesying things contrary to expectation, and not seeing merely what had come to pass, but foreknowing what was to come.

How then does He say, 'He shall bear My name before the Gentiles, and kings, and the children of Israel'? 'He shall bear it,' He said; He did not say that he would altogether persuade them.

Otherwise the Jews were in other places persuaded, but here they were not.

Precisely where they most ought to have been persuaded—since they knew his former zeal—there they were not persuaded.

'And when the blood of Your martyr Stephen was shed, I also was standing by, and consenting to his death.'

Observe again where the discourse ends—in the most forcible point.

For he shows that it was he himself who was the persecutor, and not merely the persecutor, but one who by countless hands was slaying Stephen.

He reminded them of a grievous act of bloodshed.

Then indeed above all they could not endure it, since this was what convicted them.

And already the prophecy was being fulfilled.

The zeal, then, was great, and the accusation vehement, and the witnesses of the truth of Christ were speaking with boldness.

But the Jews would no longer bear to hear the whole of his public address, but, greatly inflamed with wrath, they cried out.

'Depart, for I will send you far away unto the Gentiles.'

Now they listened to him up to this word, and then they lifted up their voice, saying:

'Away with such a fellow from the earth!'

And as they were crying out and throwing off their garments and casting dust into the air, the tribune commanded that he be brought into the barracks, giving orders that he be examined by scourging, so that he might know for what cause they were thus clamoring against him.

Now the tribune ought to have examined whether these things were so, or even those very men themselves;

but he, doing nothing further, gives orders to examine him by scourging.

'For he commanded that he be brought,' it says, 'into the barracks, saying that he be examined by scourging, so that he might know for what cause they were thus crying out against him.'

And indeed he ought to have learned from those who were clamoring, and to have asked whether they had any hold on any of the things that had been spoken;

but he simply uses his authority, and acts to gratify them;

for he was not seeking how he might do anything justly, but how he might quell their wrath, which was unjust.

But as they stretched him out with the thongs, he said to the centurion who stood by:

'Is it lawful for you to scourge a man that is a Roman, and uncondemned?' Paul did not lie—God forbid—in calling himself a Roman;

wherefore also the tribune, on hearing it, is afraid.

And why, one asks, was he afraid? Had it been lawful for you to do anything else, he would have feared lest he be convicted and pay a heavier penalty.

And observe, he does not say simply, but, 'Is it lawful for you?' Two are the charges: both the acting without a hearing, and his being a Roman.

Those who were deemed worthy to be so called had at that time a great privilege;

and not all obtained this;

for they say that it was from Hadrian's time that all came to be named Romans, but in old times it was not so.

Or else he called himself a Roman in order to escape the punishment;

for he would have become an object of contempt had he been scourged;

but now, by saying this, he casts them into greater fear.

For had they scourged him, they might even have perverted the matter, or even have put him to death.

Observe how God permits many things to happen also in a human way, both in their case and in that of the rest.

And the tribune, answering that 'With a great sum I obtained this citizenship,' shows that he suspected it to be a mere pretext that Paul called himself a Roman;

and perhaps he conceived this from the apparent lowliness of Paul.

And the centurion, when he heard it, went to the tribune and reported, saying:

'For this man is a Roman.'

And the tribune came and said to him:

'Tell me, are you a Roman?' And he said:

'I obtained this citizenship with a great sum.'

And immediately those who were about to examine him withdrew from him.

And the tribune also was afraid when he learned that he was a Roman, and that he had bound him.

'But I,' he says, 'was even born so.'

So then he was also of a Roman father.

What then comes of this? Having loosed him, he brought him down to the Jews.

Thus it was no falsehood to say that he was a Roman, since he even profited from it, being loosed from his bond.

On the next day, wishing to know the certainty—what he was accused of by the Jews—he loosed him, and commanded the chief priests and all the council to assemble;

and having brought Paul down, he set him before them.

And Paul, looking earnestly at the council, said:

He no longer addresses the tribune, but the multitude and the whole people.

And what does he say? 'Men and brethren, I have lived before God in all good conscience until this day.'

'I am conscious of nothing in myself wherein I have wronged you, nor of doing anything worthy of these bonds.'

What then does the high priest do? When he ought to have been pricked to the heart at the man's being unjustly bound to gratify them, he instead adds still more, and commands that he be struck;

which is also plain from what follows.

And the high priest Ananias commanded those who stood by him to strike him on the mouth.

Then Paul said to him:

'God is about to strike you, you whitewashed wall!'

'And do you sit judging me according to the law, and, contrary to the law, command me to be struck?' And those who stood by said:

'Do you revile God's high priest?' And Paul said:

'I did not know, brethren, that he was the high priest;

for it is written, You shall not speak evil of a ruler of your people.'

Now some say that, knowing this, he speaks with irony;

but to me it seems that he did not at all know that he was the high priest;

wherefore also he makes his defense as though there were an accusation, and adds:

'You shall not speak evil of a ruler of your people.'

For if he had not been a ruler, ought one simply to insult another? By no means, but rather to bear it even when insulted.

But it is worth inquiring how, when the same man elsewhere says, 'Being reviled, we bless; being persecuted, we endure it,' here he does the contrary, and not only reviles, but even calls down a curse. Away with the thought! He is seen to have done neither of these;

but to one who examines carefully, the words are of boldness rather than of wrath;

and besides, he did not wish to appear contemptible to the tribune.

For if he had refrained from scourging him on the ground that the man was about to be handed over to the Jews, the very fact of his being beaten by the servants would only have made that other more insolent.

For this reason he does not direct his words to the servant, but to the very one who gave the order, thus establishing his point.

And in saying, 'You whitewashed wall, do you also sit judging me according to the law?' he was all but saying to him this:

You who are yourself liable and deserving of ten thousand stripes.

Observe, then, how the people were struck with amazement at his boldness.

For when they ought to have overturned everything, they rather behave with drunken violence.

But he even reads out the law, since he wishes to show that he spoke these things thus not out of fear, nor because it was unworthy to hear, but because here too he was obeying the law.

And I am firmly persuaded that he did not know that the man was high priest, since he had returned after a long time and did not associate continually with the Jews, and since he saw that man too in the midst of many others.

For the high priest was no longer distinguishable, there being many and diverse persons present.

So it seems to me that he directed this too against them, showing that he obeys the law, and for this reason makes his defense.

But let us look at what has been said from the beginning.

'While I was praying,' he says, 'in the temple, it came to pass that I was in a trance.'

In order to make clear that it was not merely an apparition, for this reason he added, 'While I was praying.'

'Make haste and get out quickly,' he says, 'because they will not receive your testimony.'

Here he shows that he did not flee out of fear of their perils, but because they did not accept his testimony.

But why did he say, 'They themselves know that I was imprisoning'? Not that he was contradicting Christ—God forbid!—

but because he desired to learn the reason for so paradoxical a thing.

'Go,' he says, 'for I will send you far away to the Gentiles.'

Christ did not teach him what he must do, but only told him to depart, and he obeys.

'And they lifted up their voices,' he says, 'saying:'

'And indeed it is not fitting that you should live'—not this man who obeys God in all things.

'And shaking out their garments,' he says, 'they threw dust.'

They do this so as to make the uproar more violent, or else wishing to strike fear into the commander.

They do not state the charge, since they had nothing to say, but they suppose that they will overwhelm him by their shouting.

And yet it was from the accusers that he ought to have learned the matter.

'And the chief captain was afraid,' he says, 'when he learned that he was a Roman.'

So then it was no lie for Paul to say that he was himself a Roman.

'And he loosed him from his bonds,' he says, 'and having brought him down, set him before the council.'

This he ought to have done from the very beginning, neither to have bound him, nor to have wished to scourge him, but to have left him alone, since he had done no such thing as to deserve being bound.

'And he loosed him,' he says, 'and having brought him down, set him among them.'

This above all left the Jews at a loss.

'And Paul, looking intently at the council,' he says, 'said:'

Here he shows his boldness, his undauntedness.

But observe also the shamelessness of those men.

'And the high priest Ananias commanded them to strike him on the mouth.'

Why do you strike him? For what insolent thing did he say? Oh, the shamelessness!

'Then Paul,' he says, 'said to him:'

'God is about to strike you, you whitewashed wall.'

He exposes him as guilty of hypocrisy and lawlessness;

and for this very reason he is also brought low.

And he himself, being at a loss, dares to say nothing, but those standing by him, unable to bear his boldness—

thus they saw a man ready to die, and they did not restrain themselves.

'I did not know,' he says, 'that he is high priest.'

So then the rebuke was one of ignorance;

for if this had not been so, even if he had taken him he would have gone away and not kept silent, or else the chief captain would have handed him over to them.

Here he shows that he willingly suffers what he suffers;

and thus he makes his defense to them out of obedience to the law, not because he wished to make a display before them;

since he had utterly condemned those men.

It is for the law's sake, then, that he makes his defense, and not for the people's sake;

for to put to death one who had done no wrong, and that too an innocent man, was contrary to the law.

Therefore neither was what he said an insult—unless one were also to call Christ's words an insult, when He says:

'Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, because you are like whitewashed walls.'

But if he had said it before being struck, it would not have been from anger, but from boldness.

But they will say the reason, that he did not wish to be despised.

And indeed Christ in many places reproached the Jews when He Himself was reproached, as when He says:

'Do not think that I will accuse you.'

But this is not an insult—God forbid!

Observe, then, with how much gentleness he converses with those men.

'I did not know that he is high priest,' he says, 'of God.'

He said this, and did not stop there, but showing that he is not being ironical, he adds:

'You shall not speak evil of a ruler of your people.'

You see how he still acknowledges him even as a ruler? Let us then also learn gentleness, that we may be complete in both respects.

For much precision is needed, so as to learn what is the one and what is the other;

and precision is needed because vices stand close beside these virtues—beside boldness, rashness; beside gentleness, cowardice;

and one must look carefully around, lest anyone, while holding the vice, should seem to possess the virtue;

just as if someone, thinking he is consorting with the mistress, should unwittingly be keeping company with the maidservant.

What, then, is gentleness, and what is cowardice? When we do not defend others who are being wronged, but ourselves keep silent, this is cowardice;

but when we ourselves, suffering ill, bear it patiently, this is gentleness.

What is boldness? Again the same thing: when we contend on behalf of others.

And what is rashness? When we wish to avenge ourselves on our own behalf.

Thus magnanimity and boldness of speech go together, and again rashness and cowardice.

For he who feels no pain on his own behalf will scarcely feel pain on behalf of others;

and he who does not defend himself will hardly fail to leave others undefended.

For when our character is pure and free from passion, it receives strength.

Just as a pure body receives strength from a fever, so too the soul, if it be not corrupted along with the passions, receives strength.

A mark of great strength is forbearance;

for forbearance there is need of a noble, vigorous, and exceedingly lofty soul.

Or do you think it a small thing to suffer evil and yet not grow savage? And one would not err in calling the care exercised on behalf of one's neighbours a kind of manliness;

for he who has become so strong as to be able to overcome so great a passion will be strong enough also to venture against another.

For example, these are two passions, cowardice and wrath;

if you master wrath, it is plain that you will master cowardice too;

and you master wrath by being forbearing;

therefore if you master cowardice too, you will be courageous.

Again, if you do not overcome wrath, you have become rash;

and not overcoming this, neither are you able to overcome fear;

and it comes to the same thing as if a body were so weak and ill-tempered as to hold out against no hardship;

such a body is quickly overcome both by cold and by heat;

for the ill-tempered constitution is of this sort, but the well-tempered one withstands all things.

Again, magnanimity is a virtue, and standing close beside it is prodigality;

there is good management as a virtue, and being a good steward;

standing close beside it are stinginess and pettiness.

Come then, let us again gather the virtues together.

The prodigal, then, is not magnanimous.

How so? For he who is captured by ten thousand passions, how could he be great of soul? For this is not to despise money, but to be commanded by other passions;

just as if a man were commanded by robbers to obey them, he would not be free;

for the spending does not come from despising money, but from not knowing how to manage it rightly;

since, if it were possible both to keep those things and to enjoy them, he would have wished it so.

But he who spends his money as need requires, this man is magnanimous;

for truly great is the soul which is not enslaved to passion, which regards money as nothing.

Again, good management is a fine thing;

so too the best steward would be he who spends as need requires, and not simply without management.

But stinginess is not the same thing.

For the one spends everything as need requires;

but the other, even when necessary need demands it, will not touch the substance of his money.

The good steward, therefore, may be called the brother of the magnanimous man.

Therefore we shall place together the magnanimous man and the good steward, and the prodigal and the stingy man;

for both these suffer this from smallness of soul, just as those others owe theirs to magnanimity.

Let us not, then, call magnanimous the man who simply spends, but the man who spends as need requires;

nor call the good steward stingy and miserly, but only him who spares his money at the wrong time.

How much did that rich man spend, clothing himself in purple and fine linen? Yet he was not magnanimous;

for his soul was held fast by cruelty and by ten thousand pleasures;

and how could such a soul be great? Abraham was magnanimous, spending on the reception of strangers, slaughtering the calf, and, where it was required, sparing not only his money but not even his own life.

If, therefore, we see someone setting out a costly table, keeping harlots and parasites, let us not call this man magnanimous, but exceedingly small of soul.

For see to how many passions he is enslaved and subject: gluttony, unseemly pleasure, flattery;

and him who is held in the grip of so many, unable to escape even one of them, how could anyone call magnanimous? So that we shall then most of all call him small of soul, precisely when he spends the most;

for the more lavishly he spends, the more he displays the tyranny of those passions;

for if they did not strongly rule over him, he would not have spent so lavishly.

Again, if we see someone giving nothing to any of these, but feeding the poor and succouring the needy, while himself keeping a frugal table, this man let us call exceedingly magnanimous;

for it belongs truly to a great soul to despise its own ease and to take thought for the ease of others.

For tell me, if you should see someone despising all the tyrants, and counting their commands as nothing, but dragging out those who are tyrannized over by them

and those who suffer ill;

would you not count this a great thing? This very thing let us reckon here also.

If, then, we despise them, we shall be great;

but if we also draw out others, far greater;

for those who suffice not only for themselves but also for others are greater than those who do neither.

But if someone, commanded by a tyrant, should beat one of the subjects, drag off another, and outrage a third, shall we call this magnanimity? Certainly not;

and so much the more, the greater he is.

For here the soul lies before us as a thing noble and free;

but this soul the prodigal has commanded to be beaten by the passions;

shall we then call the man who beats himself magnanimous? By no means.

Let us learn, then, what magnanimity is, and what prodigality; what good management is and what pettiness; what forbearance is and what cowardice; what boldness of speech is and what rashness;

that, distinguishing these from one another, we may be able to pass the present life in a manner well-pleasing to the Lord, and to attain the good things to come, by the grace and loving-kindness of His Only-begotten, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honour, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.