希伯來書講道集 第 32 章

For you have not come to a mountain that can be touched, and that burned with fire, and to blackness and darkness and tempest, and to the sound of a trumpet, and to the voice of words, which they that heard begged that no further word be spoken to them (for they could not endure that which was commanded:

'Even if a beast touch the mountain, it shall be stoned':

and, (so terrible was the sight,) Moses said, 'I am exceedingly afraid and trembling'):

but you have come to Mount Zion, and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to myriads of angels, to the festal assembly and Church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of a new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, which speaks better than that of Abel.

The things pertaining to the temple were indeed marvellous, the Holy of Holies;

but again those things too that took place at Mount Sinai were fearful—the fire, the darkness, the blackness, the tempest.

'For God appeared,' he says, 'in Sinai through fire and tempest and blackness.'

The New Covenant, however, was given with none of these things, but was delivered by Christ in bare discourse.

See, then, how he makes his comparisons even of these things;

and fittingly he placed them later.

For when he had persuaded them through countless arguments, when he had also shown the difference of each covenant, then at last, as of something already condemned beforehand, he readily lays hold of these matters as well;

and what does he say? 'For you have not come to a mountain that can be touched, and that burned with fire, and to blackness, and to darkness, and to tempest, and to the sound of a trumpet, and to the voice of words, which they that heard begged that no further word be spoken to them;'

'for they could not endure that which was commanded:'

'even if a beast touch the mountain, it shall be stoned.'

These things were fearful, he says, and so fearful that they could not even bear to hear, so that not even a beast dared to go up.

But they are not such as the things that came afterward;

for what is Sinai compared to heaven? And what is the fire that can be touched compared to the God who cannot be touched? 'For our God,' he says, 'is a consuming fire.'

That the things which then took place on the mountain were full of terror is clear from what they said:

'Let not God speak, but let Moses speak to us.'

'For they could not endure,' he says, 'that which was commanded:'

'Even if a beast touch the mountain,'

'it shall be stoned'; and, (so terrible was the sight,) Moses said:

'I am exceedingly afraid and trembling.'

What wonder is it, if he speaks of the people suffering such things, when he who himself entered into the blackness where God was, says, 'I am afraid and trembling'? 'But you have come to Mount Zion, and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to the festal assembly of myriads of angels, and to the Church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of a new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, which speaks better than that of Abel.'

See through how many things he showed the surpassing excellence of the New over the Old.

For instead of the Jerusalem below, there is the heavenly one;

'For you have come,' he says, 'to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem';

'And to Jesus,' he says, 'the Mediator of a new covenant';

and instead of the people, all the angels;

'And to the festal assembly of myriads of angels,' he says.

And whom does he call firstborn, when he says, 'And to the Church of the firstborn'? All the choirs of the faithful.

And these same ones he also calls 'the spirits of just men made perfect.'

What is it that he says, 'To the blood of sprinkling that speaks better than Abel'? For did the blood of Abel speak? Yes;

and how? Hear Paul saying, 'By faith Abel offered to God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, through which he obtained witness that he was righteous;'

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

This also God shows when he says:

'The voice of your brother's blood cries out to me.'

Either, then, it is possible to say this, or that even now it is still celebrated in song;

but not in such a way as that of Christ;

for this cleansed all, and sends forth a voice more brilliant and more distinct, inasmuch as it has the greater testimony borne through deeds.

'See that you refuse not him that speaks.'

'For if those did not escape, who refused him that spoke on earth, much more shall not we, who turn away from him who speaks from heaven.'

'Whose voice then shook the earth;'

'but now he has promised, saying:'

'Yet once more I will shake not the earth only, but also heaven.'

And the phrase 'Yet once more' signifies the removal of the things that are shaken, as of things that have been made, so that the things which cannot be shaken may remain.

Wherefore, receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us have grace, by which we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear.

'For indeed our God is a consuming fire.'

Those things were fearful, but these are far more marvellous and more brilliant;

for here there is no darkness, nor blackness, nor tempest, as there was there.

And for what reason did God then appear through fire? It seems to me that by those things he was hinting at the obscurity of the Old Testament, and the shadowed and veiled character of the Law;

and otherwise, that he might show that the Lawgiver ought to be fearful, and punitive toward those who transgress.

But what of the sounds of the trumpet? Fittingly, inasmuch as when some king is present.

This indeed will also come to pass at the Second Coming;

'For the trumpet shall sound,' he says, 'and we shall all rise.'

So that by the power of God the resurrection of all shall be.

And the sound of the trumpet signifies nothing else but this, that all must be raised up.

But then those things were perceptible—both sights and voices;

whereas all the things that come afterward are intelligible and invisible.

And the fire signifies this, that God is fire.

For 'our God,' he says, 'is a consuming fire.'

But the gloom and the darkness and the smoke, again, set forth what is fearful.

'And the house was filled with smoke.'

And what does the tempest mean? The human race was slothful; it needed therefore to be roused up by these things.

It was necessary, then, that it should be stirred up by such displays.

For no one was so dull as not to lift up his mind on high when these things were taking place and the Law was being given.

Moses spoke, and God answered him by a voice.

For it was fitting that the voice of God should be borne forth.

But since He was about to give the Law through Moses, on this account He makes him worthy of credence.

They did not see him because of the gloom, nor did they hear him because of his slowness of speech.

What then? God answers, uttering with a voice, just as one addressing a public assembly, and making what was ordained by the Law to be heard aloud.

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

'For you have not come to a mountain that can be touched, and that burned with fire, and'

'to the sound of a trumpet, and to a voice of words, which they that heard entreated,' he says, 'that no further word should be added to them.'

So then, they themselves became the cause of God's appearing through the flesh.

And what indeed did they say? 'Let Moses speak to us, and let not God speak to us.'

Those who make comparisons rather disparage those other things, in order that they may show these to be far greater.

But I, though I also esteem those former things as marvelous (for they are God's works, and a demonstration of His power), nevertheless show that our own things are also better and more wonderful than these.

namely, that being both splendid and greater, they are also more accessible and gentler.

This too he says when writing in the Epistle to the Corinthians:

'But we all, with unveiled face beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord'—and not as Moses, who put a veil upon his face.

'They were not counted worthy,' he says, 'of those things of which we were.'

For of what were they counted worthy? They saw darkness, gloom; they heard a voice.

But you also have heard a voice—not through gloom, but through the flesh.

You were not thrown into confusion nor into tumult, but you both stood firm and conversed with the Mediator.

And in another way too, He shows the Invisible through the darkness.

'And darkness,' it says, 'was under His feet.'

Then even Moses feared, but now no one does.

The people stood below then, but we are not below; rather, we are higher than heaven, near to God as sons, and not as Moses.

There it was a wilderness; here it is a city, and a festal assembly of myriads of angels.

Here He shows the joy and the gladness, in place of the gloom and the darkness and the tempest: 'And to the Church of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the Judge of all.'

Those did not draw near, but stood afar off, and Moses also.

Here he makes them afraid by saying, 'And to God the Judge of all.'

So then, not of the Jews only, nor of the faithful only, but of the whole world will He sit as Judge.

'And to the spirits of just men made perfect.'

He means the souls of those of good repute.

'And to Jesus the Mediator of a new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling.'

'That speaks better than that of Abel.'

But if the blood speaks, much more does He who was slain live.

'And the Spirit,' he says, 'speaks with groanings unutterable.'

How does it speak? For wherever it falls into a sincere mind, it rouses that mind up and makes it speak.

'See that you refuse not Him who speaks.'

'For if those did not escape, who refused Him that warned them on earth,'

Whom does he mean? To me it seems, Moses.

If, when they refused him who gave the Law on earth, they did not escape, how shall we escape Him who gives the Law from heaven? Here he shows, not that that One is another;

he does not show one and another, but rather that He appears fearful when He sends forth a voice from heaven.

He then is both this One and that One, but this One is fearful.

For he speaks not of a difference of persons, but of the gift.

Whence is this evident? From what he added, saying:

'For if those did not escape, having refused Him who warned them on earth, much more shall we not escape if we turn away from Him who warns from heaven.'

What then? Is this One other than that One? How then does he say, 'Whose voice then shook the earth'? For the voice of Him who then gave the Law shook the earth.

'Yet once more I will shake not the earth only, but also the heaven.'

And the phrase 'yet once more' signifies the removal of the things that are shaken, as of things that have been made.

So then, all things shall be taken out of the way, and shall be compacted anew from above into a better state;

for this is what he hints at in saying these things here.

Why then do you grieve, suffering in a world that does not abide, being afflicted in a world that soon passes away? If your rest were at the world's end, then indeed you ought to grieve as you look toward the end.

'That the things which cannot be shaken may remain,' he says.

And what are the things that cannot be shaken? The things to come.

Let us then do all things for the sake of this, that we may attain to those things, that we may enjoy those good things.

Yes, I beseech and entreat you, let us be earnest for this.

No one builds in a city that is about to fall.

Tell me, I pray, if someone were to say that after a year this city will fall, but that other one certainly will not, would you have built in

the one that is about to fall? So this too I say now: let us not build in this world;

it will fall a little later, and all things will perish.

But why do I say, 'it will fall'? Before its fall we ourselves shall perish and suffer dreadful things; we shall depart from these things.

Why do we build upon the sand? Let us build upon the rock;

for whatever may come upon it, that building remains impregnable, nothing will be able to overthrow it, and with good reason;

for that place is inaccessible to all such assaults, just as this place here is accessible;

for earthquakes and conflagrations and the assault of enemies take it away from us even while we live, and often destroy us together with it.

And even when it stands firm, then either disease carries us off the sooner, or, though we remain, does not permit us to enjoy it well;

For what pleasure is there where there are diseases, and false accusations, and envy, and plots? Or, if none of these things be troubling us, often, having no children, we are distraught and vexed, having none to whom we may hand over our houses and all the rest.

And thereafter we wear ourselves out, toiling as it were for others.

And oftentimes the inheritance has passed even into the hands of enemies, and that not only after we are departed, but even while we yet live.

What then is more wretched than to labor for one's enemies, and, that they may find rest, to be gathering up sins for oneself? And of this many examples are to be seen in the cities.

And I keep silent, that I may not grieve those who have been despoiled.

Otherwise I would have named even some of them by name, and I had many stories to relate, and many houses to point out to you which received as their masters the enemies of those who had toiled for them.

And not houses only, but slaves too and the whole inheritance have oftentimes come round into the hands of enemies.

But in the heavens there is nothing of these things to fear—lest another, the enemy of him who has died, should come and succeed to the inheritance.

For neither is there death there.

The tabernacles of the saints alone are there.

And among those holy ones there is exultation, joy, and gladness.

For 'the voice,' he says, 'of exultation is in the tabernacles of the righteous.'

They are eternal, having no end.

These do not fall down with time, nor do they change their owners, but they stand in perpetual prime—and fitly so.

For there is nothing there that is corruptible or perishable, but all things are immortal and undefiled.

Let us then pour out our wealth upon this building.

We have no need of carpenters, nor of laborers.

The hands of the poor build such houses—the lame, the blind, the maimed.

These build those houses.

And marvel not, seeing that these very ones procure for us a kingdom, and give us boldness before God.

For almsgiving is a certain most excellent art, and a protectress of those who practice it.

For it is dear to God, and stands near Him, readily asking grace for whomsoever it will—only provided it be not wronged by us.

And it is wronged whenever we work it out of rapine.

For if it be pure, it gives great boldness to those who send it up.

So great is its strength, that it makes intercession even for those who have given offense, and for those who have sinned.

It bursts asunder the chains, it looses the darkness, it quenches the fire, it puts to death the worm, it drives away the gnashing of teeth.

By it the gates of the heavens are opened with much freedom.

And just as when a queen enters, none of the guards stationed at the doors will dare to examine who she is and whence she comes, but all receive her at once,

even so also is it with almsgiving.

For it is truly a queen, making men like unto God.

'For you shall be,' He says, 'merciful, as your Father who is in heaven is merciful.'

It is winged and light, having golden wings, having a flight that greatly delights the angels.

'There,' he says, 'are the wings of a dove overlaid with silver, and her back parts in the greenish gleam of gold.'

For like a certain dove, golden and living, it flies, having a gentle countenance, a mild eye.

Nothing is better than that eye.

Beautiful too is the peacock, but beside her he is a mere jackdaw.

So beautiful and wondrous a bird is this.

She looks ever upward, she is encircled by the great glory of God.

She is a virgin having golden wings, arrayed,

having a white and gentle face.

She is winged and light, standing beside the royal throne.

When we are being judged, she suddenly flies up and appears, and delivers us from punishment, wrapping us about with her own wings.

This God desires rather than sacrifices.

Much does He discourse concerning it.

'He shall take up,' He says, 'the widow and the orphan and the poor.'

From it God loves to be named.

'Compassionate and merciful is the Lord,' says David, 'longsuffering and plenteous in mercy and true.'

And again another says, 'The mercy of God is upon all the earth.'

This saved the race of men.

For unless God had had mercy upon us, all would have perished.

This reconciled us when we were enemies; this wrought the countless good things; this persuaded the Son of God to become a servant and to empty Himself.

Let us then be zealous for this, beloved, through which we were saved.

Let us love this, let us prefer this before money, and even without money let us have a merciful soul.

Nothing so marks out a Christian as almsgiving.

At nothing do even unbelievers and all men so marvel, as when we show mercy.

For in many things we too have need of this mercy, and daily we say to God:

'According to Your great mercy have mercy upon us.'

Or rather, we do not begin first;

for He Himself has already shown forth His mercy toward us.

But, beloved, let us at least follow as second.

For if men have mercy on the merciful man, even though he have wrought countless sins—

Hear the prophet saying:

'But I,' he says, 'am like a fruitful olive tree in the house of God.'

Let us become such; let us become as an olive tree.

Let us on every side be laden with the commandments.

For it is not enough to be as an olive tree, but a fruitful one as well.

For there are some who, in showing mercy, give little—either once throughout the whole year, or each week, or bestowing whatever chances to come.

These are olive trees indeed, but not fruitful ones—rather, they are even withered.

For inasmuch as they show mercy, they are olive trees;

but inasmuch as they do it not liberally, they are not fruitful olive trees.

But let us become fruitful.

What I have often said, I say now again:

the greatness of almsgiving is not measured by the amount of what is given, but by the disposition of the giver.

It is good always to bring forward this example, so that not even the poor man may despair of himself, when he looks upon her who cast in the two mites.

Some brought even hair for the building of the temple, and not even these were rejected.

But if, having gold, they had brought hair, they would have been accursed;

yet if, having only this, they brought this, they were acceptable.

For this reason Cain also was blamed, not because he offered mean things, but because he offered the meaner of what he had;

'Cursed,' it says, 'is he who has a male in his flock, and sacrifices to God what is corrupt.' It did not speak simply, but 'he who has,' it says, 'and yet spares.'

If, then, someone does not have, he is freed even from accusations; rather, he even has a reward.

For what is cheaper than two obols, and more worthless than hair? And what is less than a cotyle of fine flour? Yet nevertheless these were held in as good esteem as the calves and the gold.

For a man is well accepted according to what he has, not according to what he has not;

and, 'As your hand has means,' it says, 'do good.'

Therefore, I beseech you, let us eagerly pour out what we possess upon the poor;

and even if it be little, we shall receive the same reward as those who lay down more—rather, a greater reward than those who lay down ten thousand talents.

If we do these things, we shall attain the unspeakable treasures of God—if we do not merely hear, but also do; if we do not merely praise, but also demonstrate it through our works.

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