希伯來書講道集 第 22 章

'Through faith we understand that the ages were framed by the word of God, so that the things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.'

'By faith Abel offered to God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, by which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God bearing witness of his gifts;

and by it, being dead, he yet speaks.'

The matter of faith requires a noble and vigorous soul, one that surpasses all the things of sense, and passes beyond the weakness of human reasonings.

For it is not otherwise possible to become a believer, unless a man lift himself above the common habit of mind.

Since therefore the souls of the Hebrews had been enfeebled, and though they had begun from faith, yet by reason of their circumstances—I mean their sufferings and afflictions—they were now growing faint-hearted and small-souled and were being shaken, first of all he exhorted them from their own experience, saying: 'Call to mind the former days.'

from the Scripture which says, 'But the just shall live by faith';

then from reasonings, having said, 'Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.'

But now again from the forefathers, those great men, those admirable ones, all but saying:

If, where good things were close at hand, all were saved by faith, much more shall we be.

For when the soul finds a partner in the same things, it is at rest and takes breath.

This too may be seen coming to pass in the matter of faith, and this too in affliction.

'That I may be comforted together with you by the mutual faith which is in one another.'

For the human race is exceedingly distrustful, and cannot have confidence in itself, and is fearful concerning the things it decides upon;

since it has, and has much, anxiety for the opinion of the many.

What then does Paul do? He exhorts them from what went before, and, before these things, from the common notion.

For since faith was at that time slandered as being a thing incapable of proof, and rather a matter of deception, on this account he shows

that the greatest things are accomplished through faith, and not through reasonings.

And how does he show this, tell me? By saying, 'Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.'

It is plain, he says, that God made the things that are out of things that are not, the things that appear out of things that appear not, the things that subsist out of things that had no subsistence.

But whence is it plain that He also made this by a word? For reasoning suggests nothing of the kind, but rather the contrary: that the things not seen come from the things which appear.

For this reason especially the philosophers say that nothing comes out of things that are not, being men of the soul (natural men), and yielding nothing to faith;

yet they too are caught nevertheless, whenever they say anything great and noble, for they entrust it to faith;

as, for instance, they say that God is without beginning and unbegotten;

for reasoning does not suggest this, but the contrary.

But observe for me also their great folly.

They say that God is without beginning;

which is far more wonderful than the making of things out of what is not.

For to say that God is without beginning, that He is unbegotten, neither begotten by Himself nor by another, is more perplexing than to say that God made the things that are out of things that are not.

For here there are many things that are credible;

as, for instance, that He made something, that the thing made had a beginning, that it was made at all;

but there, the being self-existent, unbegotten, having neither beginning nor time—do not these things need faith, tell me? Yet he did not set down this, which was far greater, but the lesser, saying:

'Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God.'

Whence then, sayest thou, is it plain that God made all things by a word? For reasoning does not suggest this, nor was anyone present when these things came to be.

For the perception of it is a work of faith.

Wherefore also he thus said, 'Through faith we understand.'

What do we understand by faith, say? That the things which are seen were not made of things which appear;

Having spoken of what is common, he next exercises the point in the case of particular persons.

For indeed a glorious man is worth as much as the whole world.

This at least he also hinted at afterwards.

For since he had set it in the case of persons, a hundred or two hundred, then saw the number to be small in quantity, he next says:

'By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain.'

Observe whom he places first: the one who suffered grievously, and that too from a brother whom he had in no way wronged, but was envied on God's account.

For ye also, he says, have suffered the same things at the hands of your own countrymen.

At the same time he also shows that they too are grudged and envied.

That man honored God, and died for the very things wherein he honored Him, and had not yet obtained the resurrection;

but his eagerness was manifest, and the things on his part were done, while the things on God's part had not yet been brought to him.

And by 'a more excellent sacrifice' here he means the more honorable, the more splendid, the more necessary.

And we cannot say, he says, that it was not accepted;

for He did accept it, and said to Cain:

'Hast thou not sinned, if thou hast rightly offered, but not rightly divided?'

Therefore Abel both rightly offered and rightly divided.

But nevertheless, in return for these things, what recompense did he receive? He was slain by a brother's hand;

and the condemnation which the father underwent because of sin, this the son who had done rightly received first, and he suffered things so much the more grievous inasmuch as it was from a brother, and he was the first.

And these things he accomplished with his eye on no one;

for on whom did he look, and thus honor God? On his father and his mother? But they had insulted him in return for his benefits.

But on his brother? But this one too dishonored him.

So that from himself he found out the good.

And he who was worthy of such great honor, what then does he suffer? He is put to death.

Then he adds yet another commendation, saying:

'By which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts;'

'and by it, being dead, he yet speaketh.'

And how else was he witnessed to be righteous? It is said that fire came down and took up the sacrifices;

for instead of saying, 'The Lord looked upon Abel and upon his sacrifices,' it says, 'And He set them on fire.'

He, then, who had both by words and by deeds borne witness to the righteous man, and seeing him slain on His own account, did not avenge but permitted it.

But your case is not such;

for how should it be, seeing that ye have both prophets and examples, and exhortations

beyond number, and signs and wonders that have taken place? So that that was truly faith.

For what wonders did that man see, that he should believe there would be some recompense of good things for him? Did he not choose virtue from faith alone? What is the meaning of, 'And by it, being dead, he yet speaketh'? That he might not cast them into great despair, he shows that Abel enjoyed a recompense in part.

How? The care taken on his behalf, he says, is great;

for this he hinted at by saying, 'And he yet speaketh';

that is to say, He slew him, but did not slay together with him his glory and his honor;

therefore neither shall ye die.

For by how much the more grievous things one suffers, by so much the greater is the glory.

How then does he yet speak? This is a sign both of his living, and of his being sung, admired, and called blessed by all;

for he who exhorts others to be righteous, speaks.

For speech does not accomplish so much as does that man's suffering.

Just as the heaven speaks merely by being seen, so too does that man speak merely by being remembered.

Not even if he had proclaimed himself aloud, not even if he had possessed ten thousand tongues and were still alive, would he be so admired as he now is.

That is to say, these things do not come to pass without retribution, nor simply, nor do they pass away unheeded.

By faith Enoch was translated, that he should not see death;

and he was not found, because God had translated him;

for before his translation he had this testimony, that he had pleased God.

But without faith it is impossible to please Him;

for he who comes to God must first believe that He is, and that He becomes a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.

This man displayed a faith greater than Abel's.

How so? Because, although he came after him, yet the things that had befallen that man were sufficient to have turned him away.

How? God foreknew that he would perish;

he was honored by Him, yet He did not defend him.

And yet not even this cast Enoch into slackness;

he did not say to himself, 'What need is there of toils and dangers? Abel honored God, and He did not defend him.'

For what profit came to the departed one from his brother's punishment? And what benefit could accrue to him from that quarter? Let us grant that God exacts a grievous penalty;

what is that to the one who was slain? Enoch said no such thing, nor did he entertain such thoughts, but, passing over all this, he knew that if God exists, He is by all means also a rewarder;

and yet as yet they knew nothing about the resurrection.

But if those who as yet knew nothing about the resurrection, and moreover saw here the very opposite, nevertheless so pleased God,

how much more ought we? For those men neither knew anything about the resurrection, nor had any examples to look to.

This very thing, then, made him to please God—that he received nothing in return.

He knew that God is a rewarder.

Whence? For as yet He had not even repaid Abel.

So that reasoning suggested one thing, but faith the contrary of what was seen.

'Even you, then,' he says, 'if you see yourselves receiving nothing here, be not troubled.'

But how was Enoch translated by faith? Because the cause of his translation was his pleasing God, and the cause of his pleasing God was faith.

For if he had not known that he would receive recompense, how would he have pleased God? And without faith it is impossible to please Him.

How? For if one believes that God is, and that there is recompense, he will have the rewards.

From this, then, comes the pleasing of God.

For he who comes to God must believe that He is—not what He is.

But if the fact 'that He is' has need of faith, and not of reasonings,

is it possible to comprehend by reasoning 'what He is'? If the fact that He is a rewarder has need of faith, and not of reasonings,

how is it possible to embrace by reasoning the things pertaining to His essence? For what manner of reasoning will be able to attain unto these? For some assert that things that exist are borne along of their own accord.

Do you see that, unless we have faith concerning all things—not concerning the recompense alone, but also concerning the very being of God—everything is lost to us? And many inquire where Enoch was translated, and why he was translated, and why neither he nor Elijah died, and whether they are still alive, and how they live, and in what condition they are.

But it is altogether superfluous to inquire into these things.

For that this man was translated, and that that man was taken up, the Scriptures have declared;

but where they are, and how they are, they have not further added;

for they say nothing beyond what is necessary.

For this indeed came to pass—I mean the matter of the translation—straightway from the very beginning, so that human nature might receive hope of the

abolishing of death, and of the overthrow of the devil's tyranny, and that death should be undone;

for he was translated not as a dead man, but so that he should not see death.

For this reason he added, 'He was translated alive, because he had pleased God.'

For just as a father who has threatened his son wishes indeed at once to relax the threat when he has made it, yet forbears and endures, in order meanwhile to chasten and admonish him, letting the threat remain in force;

so also God—to speak, as it were, in human fashion—did not forbear, but straightway showed that death is undone.

And first He allows death to come upon the righteous man, wishing through the child to make the father afraid.

For, wishing to show that the sentence is truly firm, He subjected to punishment not the wicked at once, but even the one who had pleased Him—I mean that blessed Abel;

and almost immediately after him He translated Enoch alive.

And He did not raise up that one, lest they should straightway take courage, but He translated this one alive—through Abel striking fear, and through this one giving zeal to please Him.

So that those who say that all things are borne and carried along of their own accord, and who look for no recompense, do not please God—even as neither do the Greeks.

For to those who diligently seek Him by works and by knowledge He becomes a rewarder.

Since, then, we have a rewarder, let us do all things, so as not to be deprived of the rewards that attend virtue;

for indeed it is worthy of many tears to overlook such a recompense, to despise such a requital.

For just as to those who diligently seek Him He becomes a rewarder, so to those who seek Him not He becomes the contrary;

'Seek,' He says, 'and you shall find.'

But how is it possible to find the Lord? Consider how gold is found—with much toil.

'With my hands,' he says, 'by night, before Him, and I was not deceived.'

That is to say, just as we seek that which is lost, so let us seek God.

Do we not fix our mind upon it? Do we not question everyone? Do we not undertake a journey abroad? Do we not promise money? For instance, suppose one of us has a son who is lost;

what do we not do? What land, what sea do we not traverse? Do we not reckon money and houses and all things as secondary to the finding of him? And if we find him, we hold him fast, we grip him tightly, we do not let him go.

And when we are about to seek, we set every means to work, so as to find the thing sought;

how much more, then, ought we to do this in the case of God, seeking Him as one of the necessary things? Nay rather, not thus, but far more.

But since we are weak, seek God at least as you seek your money, or your son.

Do you not journey abroad for this? Have you never gone abroad for money's sake? Do you not busy yourself about everything? Is it not when you have found it that you then take courage? 'Seek,' He says, 'and you shall find.'

For the things sought have need of much care, and most of all in the case of God;

for many are the hindrances, many the things that cast a shadow, many the things that impede our perception.

For just as the sun is manifest, and lies open in the midst for all, and we have no need to seek it;

yet if we bury ourselves, and turn everything upside down, we have need of much toil in order to look upon the sun;

so indeed also here: if we bury ourselves in the depth of evil desires, in the darkness of the passions and of the affairs of this life, we scarcely see clearly, we scarcely lift up our heads.

He who is buried below, the more he looks upward, so much the more does he draw near to the sun.

Let us therefore shake off the dust, let us rend asunder the mist that lies upon us;

It is a certain dense and impenetrable cloud, and it does not allow us to look upward.

And how, one asks, is this cloud rent asunder? If we draw to ourselves the rays of the spiritual Sun, the Sun of righteousness; if we lift up our hands to heaven.

'The lifting up of my hands,' it says, 'is an evening sacrifice.'

if, together with our hands, we lift up our mind as well.

You who are initiated know what I mean.

and perhaps you also recognize what has been said, and perceive that at which I have hinted.

Let us lift up our understanding on high.

I myself know many men who all but hang suspended from the earth, stretching out their hands beyond measure, and grieving that it is not possible to be borne aloft, and in this way

praying with eagerness.

Thus I wish you to be always;

but if not always, yet at least frequently;

and if not frequently, yet at least sometimes, whether at the morning hours or at the evening hours.

For tell me, are you unable to stretch out your hands? Then stretch out your resolve as far as you will;

stretch this out even to heaven itself;

and if you wish to touch its very summit, or, ascending higher still, to walk about therein, it is permitted you;

for our mind is both lighter and loftier than any wing.

And when it receives also the grace from the Spirit, oh, how swift it is, how keen, how it ranges over all things, how it is neither borne down nor falls to the ground!

Let us fashion for ourselves these wings, for by them we shall be able to fly across the ocean of the tumult of this present life.

The swiftest of the birds fly unharmed over mountains and glens and seas and crags in a brief moment of time.

Such also is the mind;

when it is winged, when it withdraws from the things of this life, nothing can lay hold of it; it is higher than all things, even than the fiery darts of the devil.

The devil is not so good a marksman as to be able to reach that height, but what does he do? He does indeed let fly his darts;

but he does not hit the mark; rather the dart returns to him empty, and not only empty, but even upon his own head.

for that which is sent forth by him must by all means strike something.

Just as, then, that which is shot by men either strikes that at which it is aimed, or a bird, or a wall, or a garment, or a piece of wood, or cleaves through the very air;

so also the dart of the devil must by all means strike something; and if it does not strike him at whom it is aimed, it has assuredly struck the one who sent it.

And it is possible to learn this from many quarters, that whenever we are not struck, he himself is assuredly struck;

for instance, what I mean is this: He plotted against Job, but did not strike him; rather he himself was struck;

he plotted against Paul, but did not strike him; rather he himself was struck.

And everywhere it is possible, if we are watchful, to see this happening.

For whenever indeed he strikes, he is struck;

but much more so, when against him we have armed and fortified ourselves with swords and with the shield of faith, and keep ourselves in safety, so as to become impregnable.

Now the dart of the devil is evil desire.

It is fire, it is flame; it snatches away, it destroys, it burns up;

but let us quench it by long-suffering, by forbearance.

For just as red-hot iron, when plunged into water, loses its fire;

so anger, falling upon the long-suffering man, does the long-suffering man no harm, but rather benefits him, and he himself is the more strengthened.

For there is nothing equal to long-suffering;

such a man is never insulted;

but just as bodies of adamant are not wounded, so neither are such souls;

for they are higher than the darts.

The long-suffering man is lofty, and so lofty that he receives no wound from the shot.

But laugh not openly, lest you provoke him; rather laugh in your soul, for his sake.

For indeed in the case of children, when they strike us in anger, as though defending themselves, we laugh.

If therefore you laugh, there will be as great a difference between you and him as between a child and a man;

but if you grow savage, you have become a child;

for those who are angry are more senseless than children.

For tell me, if one looks upon a child in a rage, does he not laugh at it? This same thing may be seen to happen also in the case of the angry;

such men are also faint-hearted, and if faint-hearted, then also foolish;

for 'the faint-hearted,' it says, 'is exceedingly foolish.'

The foolish man, then, is a babe.

'And the long-suffering man,' it says, 'is great in understanding.'

This long-suffering, therefore, let us pursue, whence much prudence accrues to those who succeed in it;

that we may attain the good things promised to us, in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, honor, and adoration, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.