以弗所書講道集 第 2 章

'In whom also we have obtained an inheritance, being predestined according to the purpose of Him who works all things according to the counsel of His own will, that we should be to the praise of His glory, we who first hoped in Christ.'

'In whom you also, having heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, in whom also having believed you were sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise, which is the pledge of our inheritance, unto the redemption of the purchased possession, unto the praise of His glory.'

Everywhere Paul was eager to show, as far as was possible for him, the ineffable love of God toward us.

For that it is not possible to do so with exactness, hear what he himself says.

'O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!'

'How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out!'

Yet nonetheless, as far as it is possible, he does show it.

What then is it that he says, 'In whom also we have obtained an inheritance, being predestined'? Higher up he had said, 'He chose us.'

But since an inheritance is a matter of chance, not of deliberate choice nor of virtue—

for it belongs to ignorance and to happening upon something, and often passing over the virtuous, it brings forward into the midst those who are worthy of no account—

'Being predestined,' he says, 'according to the purpose of Him who works all things.'

We did not obtain the inheritance simply, just as neither were we chosen simply.

This too he says when writing in the Epistle to the Romans.

'To those who are the called according to His purpose.'

'Whom He called, these He also justified.'

'And whom He justified, these He also glorified.'

Having first said, 'To those who are the called according to His purpose,' wishing at the same time to make clear their distinction over against the others, he also spoke of an 'inheritance,' so as not to take away free will.

So then he sets it down rather as something belonging to blessedness.

For an inheritance is not a matter of virtue, but rather, as one might say, of chance.

When the inheritance had come to pass, He chose us.

But the whole point is that, having been predestined out of His deliberate purpose—that is, having chosen us for Himself—He set us apart.

As it were, He saw us as having received the inheritance before ever we came to be.

For wonderful is the foreknowledge of God, which knows all things before their coming into being.

But consider how everywhere he is at pains to show that the matter was thus fashioned not out of any change of mind but from the beginning, so that you should have nothing less than the Jews in this respect; and for this reason he does everything on behalf of this.

How then does Christ Himself say, 'I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel'? And again He said to the disciples, 'Do not go into the way of the Gentiles, and do not enter a city of the Samaritans'? And Paul himself again said, 'It was necessary that the word of God should first be spoken to you.'

'But since you thrust it from you and judge yourselves unworthy of eternal life, behold, we turn to the Gentiles.' For these things are said so that no one should suppose this to have come about merely by the way, as a secondary matter.

'According to the purpose,' he says, 'of Him who works all things according to the counsel of His will.'

That is, He did nothing afterward as an afterthought, but all things.

Thus He Himself brings about the end 'according to the counsel of His will.'

So that it was not because the Jews would not give heed that He therefore called the Gentiles, nor under compulsion, nor set in motion by them.

'That we should be,' he says, 'to the praise of His glory, we who first hoped in Christ.'

'In whom you also, having heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation.'

See how everywhere he makes Christ the cause of all things, and nowhere the name of an assistant or of a servant.

Just as elsewhere too he says when writing to the Hebrews, that 'Having of old spoken to our fathers in the prophets, in these last days He has spoken to us in the Son.'

'The word,' he says, 'of truth.'

No longer that of the type, nor that of the image.

'The gospel of our salvation.'

And well does he call it a gospel of salvation, hinting on the one hand at the Law, and on the other at the punishment to come.

For the preaching is nothing else than a gospel of salvation, in that those who deserved to perish He no longer allows to perish.

'In whom also having believed you were sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise, who is the pledge of our inheritance.'

Again, the being sealed is a proof of much providential care—not merely the being set apart, nor the being allotted an inheritance, but also the being sealed.

For just as if someone were to make plain those who had fallen to his lot, so also God set them apart to believe, and sealed them to inherit the things to come.

Do you see how, as time went on, He makes them wonderful? For as long as they were in the foreknowledge, they were manifest to no one.

But when they were sealed, they became manifest—yet not as we are.

For, save for a few, they shall be manifest.

The Israelites too were sealed, but by circumcision, just as also cattle and irrational beasts are.

We too have been sealed, but as sons, by the Spirit.

What is the meaning of 'by the Spirit of promise'? Either that we received it according to promise.

For there are two promises: one through the prophets, and the other from the Son.

'I will pour out from My Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.'

And hear again Christ saying:

'And you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you shall be My witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the uttermost part of the earth.'

'And yet,' one might say, 'He ought to have been believed on as God.'

But he does not rest his firm argument on this ground; rather he examines the matter as concerning a man, just as in the Epistle to the Hebrews, saying:

'That by two immutable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we might have strong consolation.'

So too here he makes the things already given a proof of the promise of the things to come.

For this reason he also calls it a pledge.

For the pledge is a part of the whole.

He purchased what is ours—our salvation—and gave us a pledge in the meantime.

Why, then, did He not give the whole at once? Because neither have we wrought the whole.

He too gave a pledge; and when we have shown our faith through works, then He adds the whole.

Or rather, He gave yet another honour—His own blood—and again He promised another.

Just as, when there is a war, nations give hostages to nations,

so also God gave His Son as a pledge of peace and of the covenant, and the Holy Spirit that is from Him;

for those who truly partake of the Spirit know that He is the earnest of our inheritance.

Such was Paul, having even now already tasted of the things there;

wherefore he pressed on and travailed to depart from the things here, and he groaned;

for he saw with other eyes, having transferred his whole mind thither.

You have no share in those realities;

therefore you also fall short of understanding the words.

If we all partook of the Spirit as we ought to partake, we should behold both the heavens and the state of things there.

But of what is it an earnest? Of the redemption, of the acquisition;

for the pure redemption then comes to pass.

For now indeed we still move about in the world, and many human things befall us, and we are mingled with all;

but the pure redemption is when there are neither sins, nor human passions, nor are we mingled with all—then it is.

For even now we have departed from these things;

for our commonwealth is not upon the earth;

and even now we are outside the things here;

for even now we are sojourners.

'Unto the praise of His glory.'

Why ever so? Because it is sufficient to give full assurance to those who hear.

For if, he says, He did these things on our account, it would not have been beyond doubt;

but if for His own sake, and in order to display His goodness, he sets down as a kind of testimony the reason why these things could not have come to pass otherwise;

which very things also we see said up and down concerning the Israelites;

'Do it for us for Thy name's sake';

and again God Himself said it;

and Moses said, 'Do it for us for Thy name's sake,' even if for no other reason.

For this gives the hearers full assurance and lifts them up, when they learn that on account of His own goodness He will assuredly do what He promises.

But let us not be slothful when we hear this;

for even if He does it for His own sake, yet nevertheless He also requires that which is from us.

For if He says, 'Them that honour Me I will honour, and they that despise Me shall be despised,'

let us consider that He also seeks that which is from us.

It is a praise of His glory to save His enemies—yet those who, after being made friends, remain friends;

since, if they should return again to their former enmity, all would be in vain and to no purpose.

For there is no other laver, nor any second reconciliation, but a certain fearful expectation of judgment, and a fiery jealousy that shall devour the adversaries.

For if we should expect, while ever being at enmity with Him, to be counted worthy of pardon from Him, we shall never cease being at enmity and growing effeminate and becoming worse, and being blinded though the Sun of Righteousness has come.

Do you wish to receive the ray that opens your eyes? Make them beautiful, healthy, keen of sight.

He has shown you the true light;

if you again flee from it and run to the darkness, what defence will there be, what pardon? None thereafter;

for this is a sign of unspeakable hatred.

For when you did not yet know God, in being at enmity with Him you had some sort of pardon;

but since you have tasted of His kindness and of the honey, if you again forsake it and return to your own vomit, you bring forth nothing else but signs of great hatred and contempt.

'No,' he says, 'but I am constrained by nature;

I do love Christ, but I am constrained by nature.'

If you endure necessity and force, you will have pardon;

but if you fall through slothfulness, no longer.

Come then, let us examine this very thing—whether sins come about from necessity and force, or from slothfulness and great negligence.

What necessity is there for this, what force? Force indeed would be to murder.

For who among us would choose to plunge a sword into his neighbour's throat and to stain his right hand with blood? Not a single one.

Do you see that, on the contrary, it is rather a necessity and a force to abstain from sin? For God implanted in our nature a love-charm, so that we should love one another;

for, He says, 'Every living creature loves its like, and man loves his neighbour.'

Do you see that we have from nature the seeds towards virtue? But the things of vice are contrary to nature;

and if these rather prevail, this is a proof of our great sluggishness.

But what of committing adultery? What necessity leads to this? 'Yes,' he says, 'the tyranny of desire.'

Why, tell me? For is it not possible to use one's own wife and to put a stop to the tyranny? 'But some passion,' he says, 'seizes me for my neighbour's wife.'

But passionate love is no matter of necessity;

no one loves by necessity, but by choice and willingly.

The mere act of intercourse, then, may perhaps be a necessity;

but to love this woman or that is not a necessity;

nor is the matter one of desire for intercourse, but of vainglory and insolence and luxury beyond all measure.

For which, tell me, is according to reason—to have her who is betrothed to you, who is the partner of your child-bearing, or her who is unknown? Do you not know that familiarity begets friendships? So that it is not a matter of nature.

For desire was given for the sake of marriage, for the sake of child-bearing;

it was granted, not for adultery nor for corruption.

The laws also know how to make allowance for sins committed of necessity;

or rather, there is no sin at all that comes about of necessity, but all come from insolence.

For God did not so fashion our nature as to have a necessity of sinning;

since, if this were so, there would be no punishment.

For of things done by necessity and force not even we ourselves demand an account, much less God who is so loving toward mankind and good.

But what then? Is stealing a matter of necessity? 'Yes,' he says.

Poverty rather compels a man to work, not to steal.

Poverty, therefore, produces the very opposite.

For stealing belongs to idleness, whereas poverty is wont to beget not idleness but a love of labor.

So that this too springs from slothfulness.

For tell me, what is more troublesome, what more unpleasant, than to prowl about wakeful through the nights, to break through walls, to walk in the dark, to carry one's very life in one's hands, to be arrayed for murder, to tremble and to die of fear — or to attend to one's daily labors and to enjoy security together with freedom from dread? This latter is the easy course;

and because this is the easy course, the greater number practice it rather than the other.

Do you see that virtue is according to nature, but vice contrary to nature, just as health and disease are? And what necessity, what compulsion, could lying and perjury have? None at all, nor any constraint; but of our own free will we come to this.

We are disbelieved because we so choose;

for it was in our power to be believed on account of our character rather than by reason of our oaths.

For tell me, why do we not trust some men even when they swear, yet reckon others trustworthy even without oaths? Do you see that oaths are nowhere needed? 'If so-and-so says it,' one declares, 'I believe it even without an oath.'

So then the oath is superfluous, and is rather a proof of distrust than of trust.

For readiness to swear does not allow a man to keep the reputation of being reverent.

So that he who most constantly makes use of the oath has nowhere any necessary need of the oath;

but he who nowhere uses it enjoys of himself the benefit of its use.

Is there, after all, any need of an oath in order to be believed? None whatever;

for we see that those who do not swear are the ones the more believed.

But what then? Is being insolent a matter of necessity? 'Yes,' one says;

'for anger drives one on, and inflames, and does not permit the soul to be at rest.'

It is not of anger, O man, but of littleness of soul, to be insolent;

for if it were of anger, all men when angered would not cease from insolence.

We have anger, not that we may insult our neighbors, but that we may turn back those who sin, that we may rouse ourselves, that we may not be sluggish.

Anger is set within us as a kind of goad, that we may gnash our teeth against the devil, that we may be fierce toward him — not that we may stand against one another.

We have weapons, not that we may make war upon our own selves, but that we may use the whole panoply against the enemy.

Are you prone to anger? Be so against your own sins; rebuke your soul, scourge your conscience, be a severe judge and a bitter magistrate to your own transgressions.

This is the gain of anger;

for this reason God implanted it in us.

But is plundering a matter of necessity? By no means;

for what necessity, tell me, is there to plunder? What compulsion? 'Poverty makes me do it,' one says, 'and the fear of lacking necessities.'

For this very reason, then, you ought not to plunder;

for wealth of that kind is not secure.

But you do the very same thing as if someone, being asked why he was laying the foundations of his house upon sand, should reply, 'Because of the frost, because of the rain.'

For that very reason, then, you ought not to have laid them upon sand;

for the rain and the storms and the wind quickly overturn them.

So that if you wish to be rich, do not be covetous.

If you wish to hand on wealth to your children, acquire a righteous kind of wealth, if indeed there be any such;

for this abides, and stands secure;

but that which is not of this kind quickly perishes and is destroyed.

You wish to be rich, tell me, and you take what belongs to others? And yet this is not wealth, but rather the holding fast of what is one's own;

but he who holds what belongs to others could not be rich;

since in that case even those who sell silks, taking the garments from others, would be called both wealthier and richer than all;

and yet for the time being they are theirs, but nevertheless they are not counted rich for them.

Why so? Because they hold what belongs to others.

For even if the garments happen to be theirs, yet the price is not theirs;

and even if the price be theirs, still this is not wealth.

But if goods given in trade do not make men rich, because we quickly part with them, how can things gotten by plunder make men rich? And if you altogether desire to be rich (for the thing is not one of necessity) —

wishing to enjoy a longer share of what? A longer life, perhaps? And yet such men quickly become short-lived.

For often they pay the penalty of their plundering and covetousness by an untimely death, and by not enjoying their possessions but only a little of them, and by departing into hell after having received them;

and often, having bred diseases from luxury and from toils and from anxieties, they have perished.

I could wish to learn for what reason wealth is so eagerly pursued by men.

And yet for this very cause God set a measure and a limit to nature, that we might have no necessity of seeking after wealth; for instance, He commanded the body to be clothed with one garment, or even a second, and there is no need of superfluity for covering.

For what purpose then the ten thousand garments, and those moth-eaten? There is a fixed measure of the belly, and what is given beyond this of necessity destroys the whole living creature;

for what purpose the herds and the flocks and the slaughterings of meats? We need but one roof;

for what purpose the enclosures and the costly parts of dwellings? That vultures and jackdaws may lodge there, do you strip the poor bare? And of how great a hell are these things not worthy? Many men often, in places they have never even seen, fashion buildings flashing with columns and precious stones (for what have they not contrived?), and neither did they themselves enjoy them, nor did any others;

for the desolation of the place does not allow them to go there;

and even so they do not desist.

Do you see that these things are not even done for the sake of gain? But of all these the cause is folly and unreason and vainglory;

which I beseech you, let us flee, that we may be able to flee the other evils as well, and may attain the good things that are promised to those who love Him, in Christ Jesus our Lord.