希伯來書講道集 第 11 章

For when God had made the promise to Abraham, since He could swear by no one greater, He swore by Himself, saying:

'Surely blessing I will bless you, and multiplying I will multiply you.'

And thus, having been long-suffering, he obtained the promise.

men swear by the greater, and the oath is for confirmation, an end of all their strife.

Having laid hold of the Hebrews nobly, and sufficiently frightened them, he first comforts them with commendations, and secondly—which is even more forcible—with the assurance that they will assuredly obtain the things hoped for.

And he draws his exhortation not from things present, but again from things past;

which indeed the more persuaded them.

For just as in the matter of punishment he frightens them the more by those examples, so also in the matter of the rewards he encourages them by these, showing the custom of God;

and this is, not to bring in speedily the things promised, but after a long time.

And He does this, both bringing forth the greatest proof of His own power, and leading us on to faith, that those who live in affliction, and receive neither the promises nor the rewards, may not lose heart amid their toils.

And passing over all the rest, although he had many whom he might mention, he brought Abraham into the midst, both because of the dignity of the person, and because this had especially befallen him.

And yet at the end of the epistle he says that all these, having seen the promises afar off and greeted them, did not receive the promises, that they should not be made perfect without us.

For when God had made His promise to Abraham, he says, since He had no one greater by whom to swear, He swore by Himself, saying:

'Surely, blessing I will bless you, and multiplying I will multiply you.'

And thus, having patiently endured, he obtained the promise.

How then does he say at the end that 'They did not receive the promises'?

But here he says that 'Having patiently endured, he obtained the promise.' How did he not receive it? And how did he also obtain it? He is not speaking of the same things here and there, but he makes a twofold encouragement.

Some things He gave here after a long time, but the others yonder He has not yet given;

and thus, having patiently endured, he obtained the promise.

Do you see that it was not the promise alone which accomplished the whole, but also his patient endurance? Here he strikes fear into them, showing that often a promise is thwarted through faintheartedness.

And this he showed by means of the people;

for since they were fainthearted, on this account they in no way obtained the promise;

but the opposite he shows by means of Abraham.

Then, toward the end, he does something even more;

for he shows that even those who patiently endured did not obtain, and yet even so they are not vexed.

For men swear by one greater than themselves, and the oath is for them an end of all dispute for confirmation;

but God, since He had no one greater by whom to swear, swore by Himself.

Who then is He that swore to Abraham? Was it not the Son? 'No,' someone says.

Whence do you say this? For most surely it was He Himself;

When therefore He Himself swears the very same oath, 'Amen, amen, I say unto you,' is it not plain that it is because He has no one greater by whom to swear? For as the Father swore, so also the Son swears by Himself, saying, 'Amen, amen, I say unto you.'

Here he reminds them of those oaths of Christ, which He continually spoke: 'Amen, amen, I say unto you, he that believes in Me shall never die unto eternity.'

What does this mean: 'And the oath is for them an end of all dispute for confirmation'? It means: by this every wrangling of dispute is dissolved;

not of this or that dispute, but of every one.

God ought indeed to have been believed even without an oath.

'Wherein God,' he says, 'willing more abundantly to show unto the heirs of the promise the immutability of His counsel, interposed with an oath.'

Here he includes the faithful also;

for this reason he also mentions this promise, which was made in common toward us.

Again here he says that the Son became a mediator between men and God.

'That by two immutable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie.'

Of what and of what? Of both the speaking and the promising, and of adding an oath to the promise.

For since among men this matter of the oath seems to be more trustworthy, on this account He added it too.

Do you see that He does not regard His own dignity, but how He may persuade men, and He endures things unworthy of Himself to be said concerning Himself? That is, wishing to give full assurance.

And in the case of Abraham he shows that the whole was of God, not of that man's patient endurance, seeing that He even endured to add an oath;

if, that is, by that which men swear, God also swore by that same thing, that is, by Himself.

But they swear as by one greater, whereas He does not swear as by one greater;

for it is not the same thing for a man to swear by himself and for God to do so;

for man has no authority over himself.

You see then that this was said not so much with reference to Abraham as with reference to us.

'We,' he says, 'who have fled for refuge have strong encouragement to lay hold of the hope set before us.'

And here again: having patiently endured, he obtained the promise.

And he did not say, 'Since He swore.'

But what kind of oath it was, he made clear by saying, 'to swear by one greater.'

But since the race of men is unbelieving, He condescends to the same level as ourselves.

As therefore He swears for our sakes, although it is unworthy of Him not to be believed;

so also He said, 'He learned from the things which He suffered,' since men consider this to be more worthy of belief, namely, to come to knowledge through experience.

What does 'the hope set before us' mean? From these things, he says, we conjecture the things to come;

for if these came to pass after so long a time, certainly those also will.

So that the things which happened toward Abraham give us assurance also concerning the things to come.

'Which we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and entering into that within the veil;'

'where the forerunner has entered for us, even Jesus, having become a high priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek.'

While they are yet in the world and have not yet departed from this life, he shows that they are already among the things promised;

for through hope we are already in heaven.

Or rather, by hope you have already obtained it.

And he did not say, 'We are within,' but 'It itself entered within;'

which was both truer and more persuasive.

For just as the anchor, being fastened to the ship, does not allow it to be tossed about, even though countless winds beat upon it, but being made fast, renders it steadfast;

And see how exceedingly fitting an image he found;

for he did not say 'foundation,' which was unsuitable, but 'anchor.'

For that which is amid the surge, and does not seem to be very firmly settled, stands upon the water as upon land, and is tossed and yet not tossed.

For in the case of those who are exceedingly strong and given to wisdom, Christ fittingly set down that saying:

'Who built his house upon the rock;'

but in the case of those who are despairing and are bound to be borne up through hope, Paul appropriately set down this.

For the tempest and the great storm shake the vessel;

but hope does not allow it to be tossed about, even though countless winds beat upon it.

So that if we had not this, we should long ago have been sunk beneath the waves.

And not only in spiritual matters, but also in the affairs of this life one may find the great strength of this;

as, for instance, in trade, in agriculture, in military service;

for unless a man sets this before him at the very outset, he would not so much as put his hand to the work.

And he did not simply say 'anchor,' but 'sure and steadfast;'

in order to declare the unfailing certainty of those who rest upon it for salvation.

'Entering into that within the veil.'

What does this mean? It means, penetrating into heaven.

Then he added faith as well, that there might not be hope only, but a hope exceedingly true.

For after the oath he sets down yet another thing, the demonstration that comes from the facts themselves, namely that 'Jesus has entered in as a forerunner on our behalf.'

Now a forerunner is the forerunner of certain persons, just as John was the forerunner of Christ.

And he did not say simply, 'He entered in,' but, 'Where a forerunner has entered in on our behalf,' as though we too were bound to attain to it.

For the distance between the forerunner and those who follow ought not to be great;

since otherwise he would not even be a forerunner.

For the forerunner and those who follow must be on the same road;

and the one goes ahead, while the others come up close behind.

'According to the order,' he says, 'of Melchizedek, having become high priest forever.'

Behold yet another consolation, seeing that our high priest is on high, and far better than those among the Jews, not only in manner, but also in place, in tabernacle, in covenant, and in person.

And this too was said with reference to that which is according to the flesh.

Those, then, of whom he is priest, ought also to be exceedingly better;

and as great as is the distance between Aaron and Christ, so great

is the distance between us and the Jews.

For see: on high we have the victim, on high the priest, on high the sacrifice.

Let us therefore offer up such sacrifices as can be presented upon that altar;

no longer sheep and oxen, no longer blood and the savor of burnt fat;

all these have been done away, and in their stead has been introduced the reasonable worship.

And what is the reasonable worship? The things done through the soul, the things done through the spirit. ('God is spirit,' he says,

'and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth');

such things as need no body, no instruments, no places;

and these are, for instance, gentleness, self-control, almsgiving, forbearance of evil, long-suffering, humility of mind.

These sacrifices one may see prefigured from of old even in the Old Testament.

For 'Offer,' says David, 'to God a sacrifice of righteousness';

'I will sacrifice to you a sacrifice of praise';

'A sacrifice of praise shall glorify me';

'A sacrifice to God is a broken spirit';

'What does the Lord seek from you, but to hearken to Him? Whole burnt offerings and offerings for sin you did not delight in.'

'Behold, I have come to do your will, O God';

'To what purpose do you bring me frankincense from Sheba?' And another says:

'Take away from me the sound of your songs, and I will not listen to the melody of your instruments';

but instead of these, 'I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.'

Do you see with what sacrifices God is well pleased? Do you see how already from of old some had departed, and others had come in to take their place? These, then, let us bring near.

For those belong to wealth and to those who possess it, but these to virtue;

those are from without, these from within;

those even any ordinary person could perform, but these only few.

And by as much as a man is better than a sheep, by so much is this sacrifice better than that;

for here you offer up your own soul as the victim.

There are also other victims, the true whole burnt offerings, the bodies of the holy martyrs;

there both soul and body are holy;

those give off a great fragrance of sweet savor.

You too can, if you will, offer up such a sacrifice.

For what if you do not burn your body with fire? You can do so with another fire;

such as the fire of voluntary poverty, the fire of affliction.

For when it is possible to live amid luxury and lavishness, yet to take up instead a toilsome and bitter life, and to mortify the body—is this not a whole burnt offering? Mortify your body and crucify it, and you too shall receive the crown of this martyrdom.

For what the sword accomplishes there, let willing zeal accomplish here.

Let not the love of money kindle nor hold you fast, but let this unseemly desire be burned up and quenched by the fire of the Spirit, and be cut in pieces by the sword of the Spirit.

This is a good sacrifice, needing no priest, but only him who offers it;

a good sacrifice, wrought below indeed, but straightway taken up on high.

Do we not marvel that of old the fire descending consumed everything? It is possible even now for a fire to descend far more wonderful than that, and to consume all that is set before it;

or rather, not to consume it, but to carry it up into heaven;

for it does not turn them to ashes, but presents them as gifts to God.

Such were the offerings of Cornelius;

for 'your prayers,' he says, 'and your alms have gone up for a memorial before God.'

Do you see a most excellent pairing? Then are we heard, when we ourselves also hearken to the poor who come to us.

'Whoever stops his ears,' it says, 'so as not to hear the poor, his own supplication God will not hear.'

'Blessed is he who considers the poor and needy;

in an evil day the Lord shall deliver him.'

And this is no other than that day, which becomes an evil one for sinners.

What is meant by 'he who considers'? He who understands what a poor man is, who learns thoroughly his affliction;

for he who has learned his affliction will surely and straightway have compassion on him.

When you see a poor man, do not pass him by, but straightway consider what you would be, if you were he;

what would you not have wished all men to do? 'He who considers,' it says.

Consider that he is free like you, and shares the same nobility with you, and possesses all things in common with you;

yet this man, who has nothing less than you, you often do not even treat as equal to your dogs.

For they are filled with bread, but he has often gone to sleep hungry;

and the free man has become less honored than your slaves.

'But these render us a service,' you say.

What sort of service, pray, tell me? That they serve you well? If then I show that this man too renders you a service far greater than theirs, what will you say? For he will stand by you in the day of judgment, and will deliver you from the fire.

What such thing do all your slaves do? When Tabitha died, who raised her up? Was it slaves who stood around her, or the poor? Yet you are not willing even to treat the free man as equal to your slaves.

Bitter is the frost, and the poor man lies cast upon the ground, clad in rags, half-dead with cold, his teeth chattering; and by his very look and posture he is enough to move you to pity.

But you, warmed and flushed with drink, pass him by.

And how do you expect God to deliver you when you are in calamity? Often, too, you say this:

"If it were I, and I had someone who had sinned greatly against me in my power, I would forgive him; and shall not God forgive?" Do not say this. For you too overlook the man who has in no way wronged you, whom you are able to relieve, and yet you neglect him.

But if you deal thus deceitfully with such a one, how shall God forgive you who sin against Him? Are not these things deserving of hell? And what wonder is it? A body, often dead and senseless, no longer able to perceive the honour, you wrap about with countless garments, of varied hues and interwoven with gold;

but the living man, who suffers pain, who is cut to the heart, who is tortured, who is racked by hunger and cold, you overlook; and you gratify vainglory more than the fear of God.

But at once there come accusations against the one who approaches you:

"Why does he not work?" one says. "And why is he fed while remaining idle?" Tell me: do you yourself have what you have because you worked, and not rather because you received a paternal inheritance? And even if you do work, is that a reason to reproach another? Do you not hear Paul saying, "But you, in doing good, do not grow weary"? For after saying, "He who will not work, let him not eat," he added this.

"But he is an impostor," one says.

What are you saying, O man? For the sake of a single loaf and a garment do you call him an impostor? "But he sells it at once," one says.

And do you administer all your own affairs well? What then? Do all become poor from idleness? None from shipwrecks? None from lawsuits? None from theft? None from perils? None from sicknesses? None from some other misfortune? But if we hear someone lamenting such things and crying aloud, gazing up naked to heaven, with unkempt hair and clothed in rags, at once we call him the impostor, the cheat, the dissembler.

Are you not ashamed? Whom do you call an impostor? Give nothing, but do not accuse the man.

"But he has something," one says, "and he is only putting on an act."

This is an accusation against you, not against him.

He knows that he is dealing with cruel men, with beasts rather than with human beings, and that even if he utters a piteous word, he draws no one to himself;

and for this reason he is compelled to put on a more pitiable appearance for himself, that he may break your soul with compassion.

If we see someone approaching in respectable attire, "This man is an impostor," one says, "and he approaches thus in order to seem to be of noble birth";

and if we see him in the opposite attire, this one too we revile.

What then are they to do? O the cruelty!

"And for what reason," one says, "do they bare their mutilated limbs?" For your sake;

if we were merciful, they would have no need of these devices;

if they could persuade us at the first appeal, they would not have contrived so many things.

Who is so wretched as to be willing to cry out so much, to be willing to disgrace himself, to be willing to lament publicly together with his wife stripped bare, to strew ashes upon himself together with his children? How much worse are these things than poverty itself! Yet for these things they are not only not pitied, but even accused by us.

Shall we then still be indignant that, when we beseech God, we are not heard? Shall we then still be vexed that we do not prevail when we pray? Do we not shudder, beloved? "But I have often given," one says.

But do you yourself not eat continually? And do you drive away your children when they often ask of you? O the shamelessness!

Do you call a poor man shameless? And you, who plunder, are not shameless;

but he, who begs for bread, is shameless? Do you not consider how great is the necessity of the belly? Do you not do all things for its sake? Do you not for its sake neglect spiritual things? Are there not set before us heaven and

the kingdom of heaven? Yet you, in dread of the belly's tyranny, endure all things, and you do not despise it. This is shamelessness.

Do you not see old men who are maimed? But O the folly!

"So-and-so," one says, "lends out so many gold pieces;

and so-and-so lends out so much, yet he begs."

You are telling tales and nonsense fit for little children;

for those little ones are always hearing such tales from their nurse.

I am not persuaded, I do not believe it, God forbid.

Does a man lend out at interest and yet, being in abundance, go begging? For what reason, tell me? And what is more disgraceful than begging? It is better to die than to beg.

How long shall we be so harsh? What then? Do all lend out at interest? Are all impostors? Is no one truly poor? "Yes," one says, "and there are many."

Why then do you not help those, since you are so exact a scrutinizer of their lives? These are pretexts and excuses.

"Give to everyone who asks of you, and from him who wishes to borrow from you do not turn away";

stretch out your hand; let it not be drawn back.

We were not appointed as scrutinizers of men's lives, since otherwise we should pity no one.

Why, when you entreat God, do you say:

"Do not remember my sins"? So then, even if that man is exceedingly sinful, reckon this also in his case, and do not remember his sins.

It is a time for loving-kindness, not for exact scrutiny;

and if you are not willing, send him away, but do not raise doubts and difficulties.

Why are you wretched and miserable? Why do you neither pity him yourself, nor allow those who are willing to give? For when someone hears from you that this man is a cheat, that that one is a hypocrite, that another lends out at interest,

he gives neither to these nor to those;

for he suspects all to be of this sort.

For you know that we readily suspect evil things, but good things we no longer do.

Let us become merciful, not simply so, but as our Father who is in heaven;

He feeds even adulterers, and fornicators, and sorcerers;

and why do I say this? even those who have every kind of wickedness.

For in so great a world there must needs be many such;

yet nevertheless He clothes them all;

no one ever perished of hunger, except one who did so willingly.

So let us become compassionate;

if a man is in need and in distress, help him.

But now we have come to such a pitch of unreasonableness that we do this not only in the case of the poor who walk through the narrow lanes, but even in the case of men who lead the monastic life.

"So-and-so is an impostor," one says.

Was I not saying just now that if we give to all indiscriminately, we shall always be showing mercy;

but if we begin to pry and investigate, we shall never show mercy? What are you saying? Because he asks for a loaf of bread, is he an impostor? If indeed he were asking for talents of gold and silver, or costly garments, or slaves, or anything else of the kind, one might reasonably call him a cheat;

but if it is none of these, but food and covering, which belong to the philosophic life, is this the mark of a cheat, tell me? Let us cease from this ill-timed meddlesomeness, this satanic, this ruinous curiosity.

For if he says that he is enrolled among the clergy, or names himself a priest, then pry and investigate closely;

for there the unexamined communion is not without danger;

for the peril concerns great matters;

but if he asks for sustenance, examine nothing;

for you are not giving, but receiving.

Consider, if you will, how Abraham displayed his hospitality toward all who came to him.

If he had been over-curious about those who took refuge with him, he would not have entertained angels;

for perhaps, not thinking them to be angels, he would have thrust these away along with the others;

but since he received all, he received angels as well.

For does God give you the reward from the very lives of those who receive it? No, it is from your own free choice, from your own generosity, from your great love of humankind, from your goodness.

Let this be present in you, and you shall attain all good things;

which may it be granted us all to attain, by the grace and love toward mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honour, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.