歌羅西書講道集 第 2 章

For this cause we also, from the day we heard it, do not cease praying for you, and asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding;

that you may walk worthily of the Lord unto all pleasing, bearing fruit in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God.

'For this cause' — for what cause? Because we heard of your faith and love;

because we have good hopes, we are also of good courage to ask concerning the things to come.

For just as in contests we most of all rouse those who are near to victory,

so also Paul most of all exhorts those who have already achieved the greater part.

'From the day we heard it,' he says, 'we do not cease praying for you.'

We pray for you not one day, nor two, nor three.

Here he both shows his love, and gently hints to them that they had not yet arrived at the goal;

for the phrase 'that you may be filled' was declaring this.

And observe, I pray you, the discernment of this blessed man;

nowhere does he say that they had been deprived of the whole, but that they were falling short in every part;

for the phrase 'that you may be filled' declares this.

And again, 'unto all pleasing, bearing fruit in every good work';

and again, 'strengthened with all power';

and again, 'unto all patience and longsuffering.'

For the word 'all' bears witness that they too possess something of those who succeed, even if not the whole.

And 'that you may be filled,' he says, not 'that you may receive';

but 'that you may be filled' in that which is lacking.

Thus the reproof too became free of offence, and the commendation, being complete, did not suffer them to fall down and become supine.

But what is 'that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will'? That is, that you must be brought to Him through the Son, no longer through angels.

That you must indeed be brought near, you have known;

but this still remains for you to learn — and why He sent the Son.

For if it had been necessary to be saved through angels, He would not have sent the Son, He would not have given Him up.

'In all wisdom,' he says, 'and spiritual understanding.'

For since the philosophers were deceiving them, 'I wish you,' he says, 'to be in spiritual wisdom, not according to the wisdom of men.'

But if, in order to learn the will of God, spiritual wisdom is needed — so as to know what His essence is — there is need of unceasing prayers.

And he shows here that Paul had been praying from that time and had not yet accomplished it, and had not desisted;

for the phrase 'from the day we heard it' declares this.

But it brings much condemnation upon them, if being helped by prayers from that time they did not recover themselves.

'And asking,' he says — that is, with much earnestness;

for this the word 'you have known' shows.

But there is need also to come to full knowledge of something.

'That you may walk worthily of the Lord.'

Here he speaks concerning conduct and works;

for this too he does everywhere;

he always joins conduct with faith.

But how 'unto all pleasing'? 'Bearing fruit in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God.'

'Just as,' he says, 'He revealed Himself to you all at once, and just as you received so great a knowledge, so also show forth a manner of life worthy of the faith;

for this faith requires a great manner of life, and much greater than the old.'

For he who has known God, and has been counted worthy to be God's servant — nay rather, His son too — see how great a virtue he needs.

'Strengthened with all power.'

Here he speaks concerning trials and persecutions: 'We pray that you may be filled, being strengthened, so as not to grow weary, nor to despair.'

'According to the might of His glory.'

This is why I pray, he says, that you may take up such eagerness as befits those who are to give it according to the might of His glory.

'Unto all patience and longsuffering.'

In brief we pray, he says, that you may lead a virtuous life worthy of your calling, and that you may stand firmly, as is fitting for those who have been strengthened by God.

For this reason he does not yet touch upon doctrines, but dwells in the matter of conduct, wherein he had nothing to lay to their charge;

and having praised them for what was fitting, he then descends to accusation.

This he does everywhere;

for whenever he is about to write to any, having something to blame yet also something to praise, he first praises, and then descends to the charges.

For he first wins over his hearer, and frees his accusation from all suspicion, and shows that he himself desired throughout to commend them, but is forced by necessity into these words of reproof.

This he does also in the former Epistle to the Corinthians.

For having praised them exceedingly as loving him, he then, beginning even from the case of the fornicator, descends to accusation.

But in the Epistle to the Galatians it is no longer so, but the contrary;

or rather, if one examines it, there too the accusation proceeds from praise.

For since he had at that time nothing right of theirs to mention, and the charge was severe, and all had been corrupted, and being strong they were able to bear it, he begins from accusation, saying, 'I marvel';

so that this too is a form of praise.

And afterwards he praises them, not for their present state, but for what was past, saying that, 'If it had been possible, you would have plucked out your own eyes and given them to me.'

This 'being strengthened' refers to works.

'Unto all patience and longsuffering':

longsuffering toward one another, patience toward those outside.

For one is longsuffering toward those whom it is even possible to avenge oneself upon, but endures those whom one is not able to avenge oneself upon.

For this reason, in the case of God patience is never spoken of, but longsuffering in many places;

even as this same blessed one says, writing elsewhere:

'Or do you despise the riches of His kindness and forbearance and longsuffering?' 'Unto all.'

Not now indeed, but afterwards no longer.

'In all,' he says, 'wisdom and spiritual understanding.'

For in no other way is it possible to come to know His will.

And yet they thought they had His will, but the wisdom was not spiritual.

'That you may walk,' he says, 'worthily of the Lord.'

For this becomes the road to the most excellent way of life.

For he who has learned thoroughly the love of God toward mankind;

and he learns it thoroughly, if he sees the Son given up for us;

And moreover, we pray not only that you may learn this, but that you may also display it in works;

for he who knows without doing is destined even to be punished.

'That you may walk,' he says;

that is, always, not once only, but continually.

As walking is necessary for us, so also is living rightly.

And he always calls such a thing a 'walk,' and rightly so, showing that this is the life set before us;

but not the worldly life which is of that kind.

'That you may walk,' he says, 'worthily of the Lord,' and, 'In

every good work,' so as always to make progress, and nowhere to stand still;

and metaphorically, 'Bearing fruit and increasing in the knowledge of God,' that so you may be strengthened according to the power of God, as far as was possible for man.

He did not say 'power,' but 'might,' which is greater.

'By the might,' he says, 'of His glory';

because everywhere His glory prevails.

He has already comforted those who were in reproach, and again, 'that you may walk worthily of the Lord.'

He says this concerning the Son, that He prevails everywhere, both in heaven and on earth, because His glory reigns everywhere.

'Not simply,' he says, 'be strengthened,' but as is fitting for those who serve so mighty a Master.

At the same time he also touches upon the words of knowledge;

for this is to have gone astray, not to know God as one ought.

Or, 'so that you may make progress,' he says, 'in the knowledge of God.'

For if he who does not know the Son does not know the Father either, then rightly is this knowledge needed;

for there is no profit in life without this.

'Unto all patience and longsuffering,' he says, 'with joy giving thanks to God.'

Then, being about to exhort them, he does not make mention of the things laid up for them in the future, but this he hinted at in the beginning, saying, 'For the hope which is laid up for you in the heavens';

but here he makes mention of things that have already come to pass;

for the things that have already happened produce more conviction, and more effectively win over the hearer.

'With joy,' he says, 'giving thanks to God.'

We do not cease praying on your behalf, and giving thanks for your former state.

Do you see how he brings himself into the discourse concerning the Son? For if we give thanks with great joy, then great are the things being spoken of.

For it is possible to give thanks merely out of fear; it is possible also to give thanks while in grief, as Job gave thanks, though in pain;

wherefore also he said, 'The Lord gave, the Lord has taken away.'

For let no one say that what happened did not grieve him, nor that it did not cast him into dejection.

Nor let anyone rob the righteous man of his great praise.

But when things are of such a kind, then it is not on account of fear, nor merely on account of His lordship, but on account of the very nature of the things themselves, that we give thanks 'to Him who has made us fit for the portion of the inheritance of the saints in light.'

Such, he says, are the things given, that He not only gave, but also made us strong to receive them.

By saying then, 'To Him who has made us fit,' he showed the great weight of the matter.

For instance, if one who is of low estate should become a king, it is possible for him to give sufficiency to whomever he wishes;

and he is only able to do this much, to give the rank, but not also to make him fit for the office (and often such honor even makes the man ridiculous);

if however he both gives the rank, and makes him fit for the honor, and sufficient for the administration, then the thing is truly an honor.

This then is what he says here also, that God not only gave us the honor, but also made us strong to receive it.

For this is a double honor, both to give, and to prepare us fit for the gift.

He did not say simply, 'to Him who gave,' but, 'to Him who made us fit for the portion of the inheritance of the saints in light.'

That is, to Him who ranked us together with the saints.

But he did not say simply, 'to Him who ranked us,' but also, 'to Him who granted us to enjoy the very same things.'

For the portion is that very thing which each one receives.

For it is possible to be in the same city and yet not to enjoy the same things;

but to have the same portion and yet not to enjoy the same things is not possible.

It is possible to be in the same inheritance and yet not to have the same portion;

for instance, we are all in the inheritance, but we do not all have the same portion.

But here he does not mean this, but rather the portion together with the inheritance.

And why does he call it an inheritance? To show that no one obtains the kingdom by his own good deeds;

but just as an inheritance is a matter of good fortune rather than of merit, so indeed it is here also.

For no one displays such a manner of life as to be counted worthy of the kingdom, but the whole is of His gift.

As He says, 'When you have done all things, say, We are unprofitable servants;

for we have done that which was our duty to do.'

'For the portion of the inheritance of the saints in light.'

And it seems to me that he speaks at once both of things present and of things to come.

Then he shows of what things we have been counted worthy.

For it is not this alone which is marvellous, that we are counted worthy of the kingdom, but also who we were when we received it; this must be added.

This is the very thing he does also in the Epistle to the Romans, saying:

'For scarcely for a righteous man will one die;

yet perhaps for a good man some would even dare to die.'

'Who delivered us,' he says, 'from the power of darkness.'

The whole is His—both to give these things and those;

for nowhere is there any good deed of ours.

'From the power of darkness,' he says;

that is, from error, from the tyranny of the devil.

He did not say simply, 'darkness,' but, 'power';

for it held great power over us, and had dominion over us.

For grievous indeed it is even simply to be under the devil;

but to be under him with authority—this is more grievous still.

'And translated us,' he says, 'into the kingdom of the Son of His love.'

Not then only in the deliverance from darkness did He show His love toward mankind.

Great indeed is it even to have delivered us from the darkness;

but to have brought us also into a kingdom is far greater.

See then how manifold the gift becomes: that He delivered us when we lay in the very depths, that He not only delivered us but also transferred us into a kingdom.

He did not say 'cast out,' but 'delivered,' showing our great wretchedness, and their captivity.

Then also the ease of God's power;

as if one should move a soldier from place to place.

And he did not say 'led over,' nor 'transferred';

for the whole of that would have belonged to Him who transferred, not to him who was brought over;

but he said, 'translated,' so that this might be both ours and His.

'Into the kingdom of the Son of His love.'

He did not say simply, 'the kingdom of the heavens,' but he rendered the expression more august, saying, 'the kingdom of the Son';

for there is no greater encomium than this;

'If we endure, we shall also reign with Him.'

'He counted us worthy of the same things as the Son,' he says;

and not this only, but there is also the intensification, 'the beloved.'

The enemies, those darkened ones, all at once He translated somewhere—there where the Son is, into the very same honour as He.

And He was not content with this alone, but, to show how great the gift was, He was not content with saying 'a kingdom,' but added 'of the Son';

and not even with this, but also 'of the beloved';

and not even with this, but also the dignity of His nature.

For what does he say? 'Who is the image of the invisible God.'

But he did not come to this at once; rather he first inserted the benefit conferred upon us.

For lest, hearing that the whole was the Father's, you should suppose the Son to be excluded, he gives the whole both to the Son, and gives it also to the Father.

For the One transferred us, but this One furnished the cause.

For what does he say? 'Who delivered us out of the power of darkness.'

And this is the same as saying, 'In whom we have the redemption, the forgiveness of sins.'

For if we had not been forgiven our sins, we should not have been translated.

Behold again here the phrase, 'In whom.'

And he did not say 'ransoming,' but 'redemption,' so that we should no longer fall, nor become subject to death.

'Who is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.'

We are falling upon a question that is dear to the heretics;

wherefore, deferring it today, we must add it tomorrow, addressing it to your ears while they are at their keenest.

But if one must say something further, the Son's work is greater.

How so? For that other thing becomes impossible—to give a kingdom to those who remain in their sins—but this is easier;

What do you say? He Himself forgave you your sins; therefore He Himself also brought you near.

He has already laid down beforehand the root of the doctrine.

But for the present it is necessary, after saying that one thing, to bring the discourse to a pause.

And what is this? That having enjoyed so great a benefit, we ought ever to be mindful of it, and to turn over

continually within ourselves the gift of God, and to ponder both from what things we have been delivered, and what things we have obtained.

And thus we shall be thankful, thus we shall heighten our love toward Him.

What are you saying, O man? You have been called to a kingdom, to the kingdom of the Son of God, and you are filled with yawning, and you scratch yourself, and you grow numb? For if it were necessary to leap into ten thousand deaths every single day, ought you not to endure them all? Yet for the sake of a magistracy you do anything whatsoever, but when you are about to share in the kingdom of the Only-begotten, you do not fling yourself down upon ten thousand swords, you do not leap into fire? And this is not yet the dreadful thing, but rather that, when you are about to depart, you lament, and you cling fondly to the things here, being a lover of the body.

What then is this? Do you actually reckon death to be a thing of horror? Luxury is the cause of this, and soft ease.

For surely the one who lives a most bitter life would choose even to take wing and to be delivered from here.

But as it is, we suffer the very same thing as fledglings that have been coddled, wishing to remain forever upon the nest.

But the longer we remain, the weaker we shall become.

For the present life is a nest, glued together out of twigs and mud.

Even if you show me the great mansions, even the very palaces gleaming with abundant gold and precious stones, I shall reckon them in no way to differ from the nest of swallows;

for when winter comes upon them, all these will collapse of their own accord;

and by winter I mean that Day—not a winter to all.

Since God too calls that season both night and day at once—the one with reference to sinners, the other with reference to the righteous.

So I too now call it winter.

If in the summer we are not well nourished, so as to be able to fly when winter comes upon us, the mother birds will not take us up, but will let us be destroyed by famine, or perish when the nest falls.

For just as a nest—nay rather, even more easily than a nest—God will then take everything down, dismantling and refashioning all things.

But those who are without wings and unable to meet Him in the air, but were reared in so coarse a fashion as not to have the wing light, will suffer all these things which it is likely that those so disposed should suffer.

Now the nest of swallows, when it falls down, is quickly destroyed;

but we shall not be destroyed, but shall be punished perpetually.

Winter will that season then be—nay rather, more grievous than winter.

For torrents of water are not swept down, but rivers of fire;

darkness comes not from clouds, but a darkness that cannot be dispelled and is without light, so that one can see neither the heaven nor the air, but is more straitened than those buried in the earth.

Often we say these things, but we persuade no one.

And it is no wonder if we, mean men, suffer this in discoursing about such matters, seeing that even the prophets suffered these things, and that when discoursing not only about such matters,

but also about war and captivity.

And Zedekiah was rebuked by Jeremiah, yet he was not ashamed.

For this reason the prophets said:

Woe to those who say, 'Let what God will do draw near in haste, that we may see it; and let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel come, that we may know it.'

For neither did those in the days of the ark believe, but they believed when there was no longer any gain from faith;

nor did those in Sodom expect it, but they too believed when nothing more availed them.

And why do I speak of things to come? Who would have expected these things now happening in various places—the earthquakes, the destructions of cities? And yet these are more to be trusted than those—I mean than the ark.

Whence is it plain? Because those men had no other example to look to, nor had they heard the Scriptures;

but here countless such things have happened, both in our own years and in those before us.

But whence comes the disbelief of such things? From a soft soul;

they were drinking and eating, and for this reason they did not believe.

For whatever a man wishes, that also he supposes, that also he expects;

those who gainsay it are mere idle talk.

For there will be no flood any longer, nor will the punishment last only until death;

but death is the beginning of the torments for those who disbelieve that there is a judgment.

'And who,' he says, 'has come from there and told these things?' If you say this in jest, even so it is not well;

for one must not jest in such matters;

for we are not playing with playthings, but we play at our peril;

but if you are truly of this mind, and do not think there is anything after this, how do you say that you are a Christian? For I have no argument with those outside.

Why do you receive the bath of baptism? Why do you set foot in the church? For do we promise magistracies? All our hope is in the things to come.

Why then do you come forward, if you do not believe the Scriptures, if you do not believe Christ? I would not call such a man a Christian—God forbid—but even worse than the pagans.

In what respect? In this: that while reckoning Christ to be God, you do not believe Him as God.

For that impiety of theirs is at least consistent;

for he who does not reckon Christ to be God must of necessity not believe Him either;

but this impiety has not even consistency—to confess Him as God, and yet not to reckon Him worthy of belief concerning the things He said.

These are the words of drunkenness, of luxury, of wanton excess;

Not tomorrow, but the very moment you speak these things, you are already dead.

Shall we then differ in nothing from swine or from asses, tell me? For if there is neither judgment, nor recompense, nor tribunal, for what purpose have we been honored with such a gift—reason—and have all things made subject to us? Why do we rule, while they are ruled? See how from every side the devil presses on to persuade us to be ignorant of the gift of God.

He mingles the slaves with the masters;

just as some kidnapper or thankless house-slave forces the free man down into the same baseness as the one who has given offense.

And he seems to be doing away with the judgment, but he is doing away with the existence of God.

For such is the devil ever: he puts everything forward by craft, and not straightforwardly, so that we may be on our guard.

If there is no judgment, God is not just;

if God is not just, neither is there a God;

if there is no God, all things are borne along at random, virtue is nothing, vice is nothing.

But he says none of these things openly.

Do you see the mind of the satanic scheme—how it wishes to turn men into irrational creatures, nay rather into wild beasts, nay rather into demons? Let us therefore not be persuaded.

For there is a judgment, O wretched and miserable man.

I know whence you come to these words;

you have sinned much, you have given offense, you have no confidence, and you think that the nature of things also follows along with your words.

'For the present,' he says, 'let me not grieve my soul with the expectation of hell;

and even if there be a hell, I will persuade it that there is none.'

Why do you add sins to sins? If, having sinned, you believe that there is a hell, you will depart to pay the penalty for your sins only;

but if you also add this impiety, you will pay the uttermost punishment both for the impiety and for this reasoning;

and the consolation that came to you for a brief moment will become for you the occasion of a cold and unending punishment.

Why do you also urge others on to sin, by saying there is no hell? Why do you deceive the simpler sort? Why did you loosen the hands of the people? So far as it depends on you, everything has been overthrown;

the diligent will not become more diligent, but slothful;

nor will the wicked withdraw from their wickedness.

For do we obtain pardon for our own sins if we corrupt others? Do you not see how the devil set about to bring down Adam? Was pardon granted him for this? Rather, it became the occasion of a greater punishment.

For that we may be punished not only for our own sins but also for those of others, he contrives every device.

Let us not then imagine that dragging others down into the same destruction with ourselves will make the tribunal more lenient toward us;

on the contrary, this very thing will make it more severe.

Why do we thrust ourselves forward and destroy ourselves? This is wholly satanic.

O man, have you sinned? You have a Master who loves mankind;

entreat, supplicate, weep, groan, and put others in fear too, and beseech that they may not fall into the same faults.

If any servant in a household, being one of those who have given offence,

should say to his own child:

'My child, I have offended the master; do you take pains to please him, that you may not suffer the same things'—

will he not, tell me, find some pardon? Will he not bend and soften the master? But if, leaving these words aside, he says those other things—such as that the master will not render to each according to his desert, that everything is simply jumbled together, both the good and the bad, that there is no gratitude in this house—what mind do you suppose the master will have concerning him? Will he not indeed pay a greater penalty than for his own faults? And rightly so;

for there the passion will offer some defence, even if a weak one, but here there is none at all.

If then you will imitate no one else, at least imitate the rich man in hell, who said, 'Father Abraham, send Lazarus to my kinsmen, that they may not come into this place'—since he himself could not depart—so that they might not fall into the same sufferings.

Let us then depart from these satanic sayings.

'What then,' someone says, 'when the Greeks question us, do you not wish us to attend to them?' But by casting the Christian into perplexity under the pretext of attending to the Greek, you wish to confirm the satanic doctrine.

For since you yourself, reasoning about these matters with your soul alone, are not persuaded, you wish to bring in others as witnesses.

But if one must reason with a Greek, the beginning of the discussion is not here, but rather whether Christ is God and the Son of God, and whether the gods among them are demons.

If these things are established, all the rest follows;

but before laying the foundation, it is vain to discuss the conclusion;

before learning the first elements, it is superfluous and useless to proceed to the end.

The Greek disbelieves in the judgement, and he suffers the very same thing that you do;

since he too has many who have philosophized concerning these matters, even if they said this while severing the body from the soul;

yet nonetheless they set up a tribunal.

And so evident is the matter that scarcely anyone is ignorant of it; rather, even the poets and all men agree among themselves both concerning a tribunal and concerning a judgement.

So that neither does he disbelieve his own writers, nor does the Jew dispute about these things, nor does any man at all.

Why then do we deceive ourselves? Behold, you say these things to me;

but what will you say to God, who fashioned our hearts individually, who knows all that is in the mind, who is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword? For tell me truthfully:

do you not condemn yourself when you sin? Is there anyone among men who does not blame himself when he is slothful? And how could such great wisdom have arisen of itself, that the very one who sins condemns himself? For this belongs to great wisdom.

And will he who gave you such a mind simply let everything drift along unheeded? This then shall be a universal canon and rule:

no one who lives in virtue disbelieves the doctrine of the judgement, be he Greek or heretic;

no one who lives immersed in much wickedness, save a few, accepts the doctrine of the resurrection.

And this the Psalmist also says:

'Thy judgements are taken away out of his sight.'

Why so? 'Because his ways are profaned at all times';

'For let us eat,' he says, 'and let us drink.'

Do you see that it belongs to base men to say these things? From eating and drinking come these sayings that overturn the resurrection.

For the soul cannot bear—it cannot bear—the tribunal that arises from conscience;

and the same thing happens as with the murderer, who first lays it down for himself that he will not be caught, and thus commits the murder;

since, if his conscience were condemning him, he would not so quickly have come to the daring deed.

And so he both knows, and pretends to be ignorant, that he may not be tormented by conscience and by fear;

for otherwise he would have become too weak for the murder.

Just so also those who sin both know that to sin is an evil, and though daily wallowing in the same evils, they are unwilling to know it, even though their conscience is present.

But let us not give heed to those men;

for there will be, there most certainly will be a judgement and a resurrection, and God will not leave so many works to go for nothing.

Wherefore, I beseech you, abstaining from wickedness, let us hold fast to virtue, that we may receive the true doctrine in Christ Jesus our Lord.

And yet what is easier: to accept the doctrine of the resurrection, or that of fate? The one is full of injustice, of unreason, of cruelty, of inhumanity;

the other, of righteousness, distributing to each according to his desert;

and yet they do not accept it,

since no one who has understanding accepts that other one.

For indeed even among the Greeks, those who define pleasure to be the end, they accepted it;

but those who loved virtue did so no longer, but cast it out as irrational.

And if this is so among the Greeks, much more is it so also in the doctrine concerning the resurrection.

But consider with me how the devil devised two contrary things;

for in order that we might neglect virtue and that we might serve demons, he introduced necessity, and by means of each he persuaded men to both.

What defence then will he be able to give who disbelieves so marvellous a thing, and yet is persuaded by those who talk such nonsense? Let not then even this consolation nourish you, that you will obtain pardon;

but gathering ourselves together, let us rouse ourselves to virtue, and let us truly live to God, in Christ, and so forth.