以賽亞書註釋 第 5 章

Chapter 5. 'Now will I sing to my beloved a song of my well-beloved concerning my vineyard.'

Having struck fear by the sorrowful things and gladdened by the good, and having wrought a varied treatment, he leads the discourse back again to another beginning—a beginning resembling the prelude of the prophecy.

For just as at the outset he proclaimed the benefactions of God that had been done for them, saying:

'I have begotten sons and raised them up'—and then, bringing forward and adding the transgressions dared by them, that:

'But they themselves have rejected me'; and that:

'But Israel has not known me, and my people has not understood me';

so too here, with different words but with the same thoughts, he sets forth the same things as before.

But for what reason, when he is about to accuse, does he call the accusation a 'song'? For Moses indeed fittingly did this with Miriam, inasmuch as he was about to sing a hymn of victory, and fittingly, beginning thus, he said:

'for he is gloriously glorified; horse and rider he has cast into the sea.'

And Deborah too, after that marvelous trophy and that astonishing victory, fittingly weaves that triumphal ode, offering up praise to God.

But this man, being about to accuse and needing a vehement discourse and a soul not relaxed but strained tight, promises to sing to us, and he calls the charges a 'song.'

And not he alone, but that great Moses too—who then sang the triumphal ode—when accusing the Jews, made the charges into a long song, saying:

'Do you thus requite the Lord? This people is foolish and unwise.'

And, composing many accusations, he laid it down by law that they should say these things while singing;

and even to this day we too sing and say these things.

For what reason, then, do they make the accusations into an ode? Because they employed spiritual wisdom and wished to instill much profit into the souls of their hearers.

For since nothing is so useful as to be continually mindful of one's faults, and nothing makes memory so lasting as melody does—lest, shrinking back and drawing away because of the excess of the accusations, they should flee from continually calling to mind their own sins—by the melody of the song he stealthily filched away the shame that comes from remembrance and consoled the unbearable despondency, and made them into songs, so that, compelled by the longing for the melody to utter them continually, they might be continually mindful of them, and being continually mindful, might have in the perpetual recollection of their sins a certain teacher of virtue.

At any rate, you know that even now the other books are not familiar to most people even by name;

but the composition of the Psalms all bear upon their lips, and these very odes;

so that, as is shown by the facts themselves, it is manifest how great the profit that comes from melody is.

For this very reason, then, he himself also says:

'Now will I sing to my beloved a song of my well-beloved concerning my vineyard.'

'A song to the beloved vineyard,' he says;

'I will sing concerning the beloved one himself.'

'For I both sing to him,' he says, 'and the theme of the song is about him and his affairs.'

But if, being about to accuse, he calls him 'beloved' and 'well-beloved,' do not be amazed.

For this too is a most weighty resource for accusation: that, having been loved and having enjoyed such great goodwill from God, not even so did they become better.

This, at any rate, another prophet also hinted at, saying:

'Like a cluster of grapes in the wilderness I found Israel; like an early fig on a fig tree I saw their fathers.'

showing their desirableness and loveliness through these fruits;

and he is desirable and lovely not on account of his own virtue, but on account of the goodness of God.

And what he says is of this sort: that I so loved, as one might love upon finding a cluster of grapes in the wilderness, or as one might love an early fig on a fig tree.

For even if the comparisons are unworthy of God, yet they are suited to the gluttony of those men.

But they, he says, though they had enjoyed so great a love, became estranged and went in to Baal-peor.

So here too he calls him beloved and dear, showing that God displayed everything that was His own, not because they had made the beginning, but because God took the lead.

But they, even after these things, did not show themselves worthy of the benefaction; rather, they displayed all the contrary.

'The beloved had a vineyard on a horn, in a fertile place.'

By the name of the vineyard he indicated all His providence and care concerning them.

Yet he does not stop at this point, but goes on to enumerate the other benefactions as well:

and first he does this from the situation of the place:

'on a horn, in a fertile place'—by the one he was praising the nature of the soil, by the other its situation:

which very thing David also said in his psalm, that 'Jerusalem—the mountains are round about her, and the Lord is round about His people.'

For He walled her about, he says, even by the situation of the place;

yet He was not content with this, but He Himself became for her the greatest wall:

which indeed this prophet too hints at when he says:

'On a horn,' signifying both the impregnability and the unconquerableness of the place, and above all the help that comes from God, by a metaphor drawn from the horn of the ox.

For indeed such a common proverb has arisen concerning those who take refuge in some secure place.

For since the bull is the strongest of all animals, and the strongest part of the animal itself is the horn,

on account of its being hard to overpower, the many are accustomed to say this;

and Scripture too often calls those who are in security 'the horn of the unicorn.'

'On a horn,' then, he means here 'in security, on high'—which is what he said at the beginning:

'A land flowing with milk and honey.'

'And I set a hedge around it, and I fenced it with stakes.'

By 'hedge' he means either the wall, or the law, or His own providence.

For indeed the law was set about them more securely than a wall.

'And I fenced it with stakes,' that is, I made the safeguard strong.

For since a hedge is often easy to assail, I threw around them, he says, yet another alliance for defense.

'And I planted a Sorek vine.'

He continues in the metaphor, which must not be interpreted according to the letter, but, knowing its aim, one must be content with that.

By 'Sorek' here he means a true and noble vine, not one of the base plants, nor of the inferior sort, but of the approved and foremost kinds.

'And I built a tower, and a winepress in the midst of it.'

Some say that the 'tower' is the temple, and the 'winepress' the altar, inasmuch as there were gathered the fruits of each one's virtue, and all the offerings and sacrifices;

yet I, as I said before, will now also say, that one must attend to the aim of the metaphor;

of all things it wishes to say this, that I fulfilled everything on my own part, I displayed all diligence.

I did not wear them out with toils, I did not crush them with labors, I did not bid them build, nor dig, nor plant, but I handed over the work already completed.

And I did not halt the works of my loving-kindness merely at this point, but:

'And I waited for it to produce a cluster of grapes,' and I awaited the fitting season of fruit-bearing, using much long-suffering.

He indicates their unfruitful life, its harshness, its hardness.

Of what pardon, then, would they be worthy, who after so great a care rendered such fruits to the vinedresser? 'And now, O man of Judah and you who dwell in Jerusalem, judge between me and my vineyard.'

Great indeed is the abundance of the just claims, when He seats the very culprits as judges over the things done by Him and over the things done by them.

I do not speak of the things of old, he says, but even today I am ready to plead my case.

Thus I never cease fulfilling what is mine, just as you never fulfill what is yours.

'What more shall I do to my vineyard, that I have not done for it?' The things I did, he says, are these; yet I am not content with what has been done, nor do I say that I bestowed many benefits, but if I did not bestow every benefit, if I did not do everything—after which there was nothing further left to do—this I require you to declare: you who have enjoyed them and are witnesses of what was done and have learned these things by experience, not some strangers and foreigners.

'because I waited that it should produce a cluster of grapes, but it produced thorns.'

The construction seems to be rather obscure, wherefore it is necessary to make it clearer.

'What ought I to have done, and did not do?' Because they sinned in such ways, what have they to allege in their defense—as though they had transgressed in such things on account of certain things having been neglected? 'Now therefore I will declare to you what I will do to my vineyard.'

Since He had won the victory and exposed their ingratitude, then at last He goes on to add the verdict as well, and He tells these things which He is about to do—not that He may condemn them, but that by the fear of the threat He may make them more reasonable.

'I will take away its hedge, and it shall be for plunder;

and I will pull down its wall, and it shall be for trampling.'

I will remove my alliance, he says, I will strip them of my help, I will make them desolate of so great providence; and they shall come to know it through the opposites of the things they formerly enjoyed, when they lie exposed as spoil to all.

'And I will let my vineyard go, and it shall not be pruned nor dug.'

Again I say that he is employing the metaphor.

But if anyone should wish to examine it more keenly, he means the care that comes from teaching, that comes from the commandments.

For they shall not enjoy the same things as before: they shall not have teachers, nor rulers, nor prophets in like manner correcting them and caring for them.

For just as those who tend the vine dig it and prune it, so those who correct souls threaten, alarm, teach, reprove;

but they shall be in destitution of these things, he says, having been carried off into a foreign land.

'And thorns shall come up upon it as upon waste ground;

and I will command the clouds not to rain rain upon it.'

He means either the desolation of the city, or their own desolation and that of each one's soul;

and by 'clouds' here some understand the prophets, inasmuch as they receive the rain from above and transmit to the people the things spoken.

But not even these, he says, shall do their accustomed work.

For even if here and there one or a second went along with them, yet the body of the prophets was then silent.

'For the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts is the house of Israel, and the man of Judah is a beloved new plant.'

'I waited that it should do judgment, but it did lawlessness; and not righteousness, but a cry.'

Since he had made much use of metaphor through the names—speaking of a vineyard and a tower and a winepress and a hedge and digging and the pruning of a vine—lest any of those then present should foolishly suppose that the things spoken were about a literal vineyard, he quickly

at the end interpreted the whole.

'For the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts is the house of Israel.'

For my discourse is not about plants, he says, nor about lifeless earth, nor about stones and walls, but about your own people.

'And the man of Judah is a beloved new plant';

since it had something more than the ten tribes, and the temple was there nearby, and the rest of the service, and it flourished more than the others, and the tribe was more royal and more powerful.

And he said 'beloved,' again reproaching them, that toward so ardent a Lover they had become such as they were.

For such is the law of those who love: not even in the very accusations to conceal the excess of their own affection.

From this we learn yet another, and no small, thing.

And what is this? It is the matter of when and which passages of the Scriptures one ought to interpret allegorically;

and that we are not ourselves the masters of these rules, but that we must follow the very meaning of the Scripture and so make use of the allegorical method.

But what I am saying is this.

The Scripture just now spoke of a vineyard, a hedge, a winepress;

yet it did not leave the hearer free to fit what was said to whatever objects or persons he wished, but going on further it interpreted itself, saying:

'For the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts is the house of Israel.'

And Ezekiel again, when he calls a great eagle with mighty wings that comes into Lebanon and crops off the top of the cedar, he too does not leave the interpretation of the allegory to rest upon the judgment of the hearers, but he himself declares what he means by the eagle and what by the cedar.

And this same prophet again, proceeding further, brings up a certain violent river against Judea; and so that it might not be permitted the hearer to fit what was said, according to his own judgment, to whatever person he wished, he told also who this king was whom he had called a river.

And everywhere in the Scripture this is the rule: whenever it speaks allegorically, it also gives the interpretation of the allegory, so that the unbridled desire of those who wish to allegorize may not simply and at random go astray and be carried off in every direction.

And why do you marvel if it is the prophets who do this? The writer of Proverbs also does the same.

'Let the hind of love and the colt of thy favours company with thee;'

'and let the fountain of water be for thee alone.'

He interpreted for what reason he said these things: namely, concerning a lawful and freeborn wife, turning one away from touching a harlot and a stranger.

So then this prophet too here declared what he said the vineyard was;

Then, after he had told their charges, he told the punishments;

and again, toward the end, he sets forth the vindication, saying:

'I waited that it should do judgment, but it did iniquity and not righteousness, but a cry.'

'For it is justly,' he says, 'that I demand satisfaction.'

'For I waited that it should do judgment' — that is, righteousness;

but they displayed the opposite: iniquity and injustice and a cry.

By 'cry' here he means covetousness, unjust anger, unreasoning wrath, quarrels, and contentions.

'Woe unto them that join house to house and draw field near to field, that they may take away something of their neighbour's.'

Having said that it made a cry — that is, covetousness, rapine — he tells also the form of the injustice, filled full with much wickedness.

And again he begins with lamentations, showing the magnitude of the sins and pointing out those who are sick with incurable maladies.

And one may see these very things ventured even now by those who use their wealth wickedly, who devise their neighbourhoods not for safety but for a plot against those near them, and, like fire advancing along a road, so they consume all their neighbours round about.

'Shall ye dwell alone upon the earth? For these things were heard in the ears of the Lord of Hosts.'

He shows, therefore, that they toil to no profit, and in vain, and to no purpose.

For since chastisements and punishments are not so wont to draw back such men as is the learning clearly that they will not enjoy the fruits of their rapine, he brings this threat upon them, saying that they will indeed toil and be wretched and reap the sin, but will fall short of the enjoyment.

'For the unsleeping eye,' he says, 'does not keep quiet over what is done.'

Now the words 'were heard' do not mean, as at that time, that these matters

had become known to him — no, he says this, but rather as of the judgment now following close upon their heels and the requital coming to pass.

'For if there be many houses, great and fair ones shall be for desolation, and there shall be no inhabitants in them.'

For such is covetousness:

whenever it heaps more upon those who already have, it also drives them out of what they had before.

And this indeed he hints at here too, saying that whenever you build splendidly and make all things your very own, then you will also be removed from what you had before.

And the houses shall stand having no inhabitants, but sending forth a voice brighter than any trumpet against those who at the first had plundered them, the intensified desolation appearing in place of some trophy.

'For where ten yoke of oxen labour, it shall yield one measure;'

'and he that sows six artabae shall make three measures.'

From the city he carries his discourse to the desolation of the countryside, so as to strike the hearer with dread from every side.

'For neither shall the houses,' he says, 'contain their inhabitants, nor shall the earth display its own power.'

For from the beginning, on account of Adam's sin, it brought forth thorns and thistles;

and after him, on account of Cain's transgression, it displayed a yield far less than his labours and than its own strength.

And in many other places one may see it being chastised on account of the sins of men.

And why do you marvel if transgression maims its offspring and the birth-pangs of men, when even for our sake it became corruptible, and for our sake again it becomes incorruptible? For since it received its very being for our sake and for our service, so also its being thus or otherwise takes its origin and root from this same source.

So indeed it was also in the case of Noah.

When the nature of men had run aground into the uttermost wickedness, all things were thrown into confusion — seeds and plants and the kinds of irrational creatures, and earth and sea and air, and mountains and glens and hills, and cities and walls and houses and towers;

and all things, in a word, were then hidden beneath that fearful flood.

And when the race had again to increase, the earth received back its own good order and returned once more to its former comeliness.

And one may see this happening even in particular cases, on account of the honour shown to men.

For the sea both vanished and appeared again; the sun was bridled together with the moon and forsook its own course; fire displayed the properties of water, and earth those of the sea, and the sea those of the earth;

and all things, to speak simply, were transformed for the benefit of men.

And since man is more precious than all things, and all that has come into being is for his sake, therefore also now, since the people of the Jews sinned, God restrains the birth-pangs of the earth, and after many toils and sweats does not permit her womb to bear its accustomed yield, that from this also they may learn that it is not the skill of farming hands, nor oxen and plough, nor the nature of the earth, nor any other such thing, but the Master of all these, who both pours out all things with a lavish hand and again, whenever he wills, draws all things back.

'Woe unto them that rise early in the morning and pursue strong drink, that tarry late;'

'for the wine shall consume them.'

For with harp and lute and timbrels and pipes they drink their wine;

but they do not look upon the works of God, and they do not consider the works of his hands.

Having accused them of much covetousness, he now sets down the root of the evil.

And this was drunkenness, which becomes the occasion of countless evils, and especially when it is ventured with such excess.

Consider, then, how precisely he holds them up to ridicule.

For he says that the whole day is spent upon this.

For it is not when it is fitting to take a meal that they do this, he says, but making the whole time a time of drunkenness, and from the very outset of the day — when they most of all ought to have been attentive — giving themselves over to much unmixed wine, and thereafter, even against their will, remaining in the sickness until evening.

For once they have been plunged down into the abyss of intemperance and have fallen away from what is according to nature,

and have fallen out of their senses and delivered their soul captive to the wicked tyranny of drunkenness, then, like a ship without ballast and bereft of pilot and sailors, it is carried simply and at random, dragged about everywhere by the disordered surge of the waters;

in this same manner these men too, being submerged beneath the drink.

'Woe unto them that rise early in the morning and pursue strong drink.'

For they did not satisfy a need, nor did they wait, when a craving arose, to fill the want, but they made this their business and their study — to be perpetually drunk.

By 'strong drink' here he means the juice of the palms, which they contrived, by crushing and pounding the fruit, to transform into the nature of wine.

And such a thing is stupefying and productive of drunkenness.

But those men suspected none of these things, everywhere pursuing pleasure alone.

'For the wine shall consume them.'

For such is the nature of drunkenness:

as it advances it grows, and it makes the thirst yet more grievous.

Then he adds yet another accusation, no less than the former, saying:

For with harp and lyre and timbrels and pipes they drink their wine.

This another prophet also lays to their charge, saying:

Those who drink the strained wine and anoint themselves with the finest ointments, who clap their hands to the sound of the instruments.

They reckoned these things as abiding, and not as fleeting.

For this is a sign of the utmost insensibility and of a soul that has been dissolved: to turn one's own house into a theatre and to give oneself over to such songs.

For what drunkenness does by darkening the mind, this music does by softening the vigour of the understanding, breaking down the manliness of the soul, and drawing it out to greater licentiousness.

But the works of God they do not regard, and the works of His hands they do not consider.

He means either His miracles, or the contemplation of creation.

But how could they become beholders, who make the day into night, and in the night are in no better state than the dead? How shall they be able to see the sun rising, and the bright beauty of the heaven, and the varied choir of the stars at eventide, and all the other order and ministry of creation, when they have been deprived of both their outward and their inward eyes? No small wrong, therefore, do they suffer in this, that they depart from the present life without having beheld the wonders of God, buried the whole of their time in the darkness of drunkenness.

Therefore My people have become captive, because they did not know the Lord.

Again he announces what is to come as though it had already happened, and brings punishment upon this transgression.

For drunkenness itself is sufficient to stand in place of every punishment: bringing tumults upon the soul, filling the understanding with gloom, making it captive, glutting them with countless diseases both from within and from without.

Paul also knows this, that wickedness becomes a punishment in itself:

And receiving in themselves the recompense of their error which was due.

But since this too belongs to their want of feeling—to be punished and yet not perceive it, to be sick and not even know that they are sick—he brings on also the punishment from without, saying:

Therefore My people have become captive, because they did not know the Lord.

And a multitude of dead men has arisen through famine and thirst for water.

Observe how, even in the punishment, there is much admonition, and how the deepest incision is not brought on all at once.

For He did not immediately bring on the captivity, but first famine and drought, so that, remaining at home, they might become better, and might not, sick with an incurable disease, draw upon themselves the army of the barbarians.

But since they did not yield, nor gain any profit from this, He proceeds at last to bring on them the uttermost punishment.

Yet nevertheless, before those punishments, He first raises up this one and magnifies in His discourse the punishment of the famine, saying:

Hell has enlarged its soul;

not as though hell had a soul, but he personifies the threat, wishing to make the discourse more emphatic and to lodge an intense fear in the mind of the hearers.

And it opened its mouth, so as not to cease;

as though telling of some wild beast, and one near at hand,

bringing before them the very image of the events.

And what is yet more grievous: that it not only opened its mouth, but also remains gaping and takes no satiety of those who are buried within it.

And down into it shall go the honourable and the great and the rich, and her pestilent ones.

Then, that you may learn that what took place was not according to any natural sequence, but that the blow was sent from God and the sentence brought down from the heavens, He declared that those in eminence, those in power, those who threw all things into confusion and turned the affairs of the Jews upside down—that these should go down there.

And He fittingly calls them pestilent, inasmuch as they did not keep their wickedness within themselves, but passed the disease on to others as well.

For such is the nature of a plague:

when it begins from a single body, proceeding on its way it feeds upon the rest of the multitude.

And he that rejoices in her.

He that lives in luxury, he that leaps for joy, he that supposes he holds his good things unshaken—he too shall fall and shall be taken.

And man shall be brought low, and the man shall be dishonoured.

And the lofty eyes shall be brought low.

And the Lord of Hosts shall be exalted in judgment.

Behold again the providential care of God.

For He does not work utter destruction, nor does He snatch away the whole of their people from their midst, but leaves some, so that by the punishment of those who have departed they may become better.

Hinting at this, then, he said, They shall be brought low—that is, those who remain, those who are left behind.

And the Lord of Hosts shall be exalted in judgment, and the holy God shall be glorified in righteousness.

He sets down two good things: both that those men shall be delivered from their inflammation and shall become better, and that God shall be marvelled at by all;

He shall be exalted and shall be glorified;

through this very chastisement, through the punishment.

In judgment? Through the vindication.

And they that were scattered shall feed like bulls, and lambs shall eat up the desolate places of those who were taken away.

Here he hints at the fewness of those who were left, and the intensified desolation of the land.

Woe to those who draw on their sins as with a long cord, and their lawless deeds as with the thong of a heifer's yoke.

Let the things which God will do draw near with speed, that we may see;

and let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel come, that we may know.

While the prophets threatened continually and foretold fearful things, the false prophets, speaking so as to please and relaxing the tension of the people, kept asserting that the words of the former were false, but their own were true.

Many, therefore, being deceived, disbelieved even those very words.

Then, since the prophecies were not spoken and fulfilled at one and the same moment—

for it was the very nature of prophecy to foretell long beforehand the things that were to come to pass—

since, then, the prophets spoke continually of the famines, the plagues, the wars, but did not display them in actual deeds, for the time being the many among the deceived, taking the delay of time as an occasion for unbelief, said:

If you speak the truth, let the events draw near;

show us in deeds the counsel of God.

Since, then, they were making His long-suffering a pretext for unbelief, and were thereby adding to their sins both their disbelieving and their becoming, through that unbelief, more careless, the prophet fittingly laments over them, saying that just as with a long cord, so do you drag down upon yourselves the wrath of God, and increase your own wickedness.

For since you disbelieve the words that are spoken, it remains at last that the trial by deeds be brought upon you.

So that it is you who draw on the evils—you who disbelieve what is said.

Woe to those who draw on their sins;

that is, the recompense of their sins.

As with a long cord you drag from afar, he says, the penalty appointed for your sins; and as with the thong of a heifer's yoke their lawless deeds—a heifer being under the yoke—so as to signify the vigour, the eagerness.

Just as one might drag something with a strong thong, so do you, through your unbelief, drag down upon yourselves the wrath of God.

Then he tells also how they draw it on:

Let the things which God will do draw near with speed, that—

Which another prophet also lays to their charge, saying:

Woe to those who desire the day of the Lord!

And why do you seek this day? For it is darkness and not light, and thick gloom that has no brightness in it.

For those men too, in their unbelief, kept saying:

When will the day of punishment and retribution come? Woe to those who call the evil good and the good evil;

who put light for darkness and darkness for light;

who put the sweet for bitter and the bitter for sweet.

Again he discourses concerning the same people.

Since they used to insult the prophets and call them impostors, but honored the false prophets and turned the very order of things upside down, he laments over them on account of their corrupted judgment.

Woe, he says, to those who call the evil good, that is, false prophecy, and the good evil, that is, true prophecy;

who put light for darkness and darkness for light;

who put the sweet for bitter and the bitter for sweet.

For even if the prophets' words are burdensome, he says, yet nothing is sweeter than they, since by the threat contained in their words they ward off the actual experience that would come through the events.

And even if the words of the false prophets are sweet, yet nothing is more bitter than they, since by the charm of their words they bring on the threat that comes through deeds.

You see the prophet's wisdom, how he overturned their false supposition.

For since they paid no heed to the ones who spoke as though most bitter, but to those who seemed most agreeable and full of much sweetness, he declared that in fact the very opposite is the case:

great is the honey of the prophets, but great is the bitterness of the false prophets.

So too we must handle the discourse concerning light and darkness.

For the one group led them toward error, while the others guided them by the hand toward the truth;

and the one group, all but binding their hands, handed them over to the gloom of captivity, while the others did everything so as to lead them into the light of freedom.

Since then they held opinions about these matters that were contrary and unfitting, he fittingly corrects them, saying:

Those who put light for darkness and darkness for light.

Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and prudent in their own sight!

This too is no small fault, to consider oneself wise and to entrust everything to one's own reasonings.

For from this comes that other thing:

[I mean, the calling of the evil good, and the good evil, and what follows.]

This too Paul charged against the philosophers outside the faith, saying that, Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools.

For from this they became fools, and the proverbial saying again declares:

I have seen a man who seemed to himself to be wise;

but the fool has more hope than he.

This too Paul charges, again saying:

Do not be wise in your own conceits;

If anyone among you thinks he is wise in this age, let him become a fool, that he may become wise.

Let him not, he says, take delight in his own wisdom nor in his own reasonings, but having lulled these to rest, let him give over his soul to the teaching of the Spirit.

Since then among the Jews too there were certain such men, despising the prophets as though they were shepherds and goatherds, but wishing to be wise on their own—which became for them an occasion of arrogance and of despising what was spoken—he fittingly laments over them, saying:

Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and prudent in their own sight!

Woe to the mighty among you, who drink wine, and the men of power, who mix strong drink!

Do not marvel if, having a little before said so much against drunkenness, he again takes up the same discourse.

For since the sore was grievous and hard to yield, on this account it was necessary to keep applying the fomentation continually.

And it is grievous and hard to yield precisely because it does not seem to the many to be a sin, though it is more grievous than all sins and sprouts up countless diseases.

Those who drink wine, and the men of power, who mix strong drink.

The precipice is twofold: the tyranny of drunkenness and the excess of power.

For all men have need of sober reasoning, but most of all those who are in dignities and positions of power, lest, borne along by the swollen pride of office as by some torrent of unruly waters, they be hurled down over the cliff.

Those who justify the ungodly for the sake of bribes, and take away the just judgment of the just man from him.

The accusation is again twofold: to release the guilty and [to condemn] the guiltless.

The root of each sin is bribe-taking.

Therefore, as stubble is burned by a coal of fire and consumed by a kindled flame,

he sets before them the swiftness of the punishment and the ease of the chastisement, through the image disclosing their utter destruction.

For all these things—the flame and the coals and the stubble and what follows—have made this clear to us.

Their root shall be as chaff, and their blossom shall go up like dust.

The things that are fixed and firm shall perish, and the bright and radiant things shall be dissolved, shall depart and flow away.

For they were not willing to keep the law of the Lord of Hosts, but provoked the oracle of the Holy One.

And the Lord of Hosts was moved to anger with wrath against His people;

and He stretched out His hand against them and smote them.

And He was provoked against the mountains, and their corpses became as dung in the midst of the road.

And in all these things His anger was not turned away, but His hand is still uplifted.

Here he hints at a grievous war, one that will not even permit the bodies to be given over to burial—not so that those men might undergo punishment, but so that the living, in the calamities of others, might cut off something of their own wickedness.

And see how he made the word more grievous.

For he did not say that they were not buried, but that the dead lay cast out, more dishonored than any dung—which to the living seems the most horrifying thing of all and more grievous than death itself.

And what is worse, that not even when these things happened, he says, did they become more reasonable, but they persist in the same ways.

Since then they became no better, he again threatens them with that most grievous blow, the one from the barbarians.

Therefore He will raise a signal to the nations that are far off.

Lest the length of the way cast them into negligence, he says that it is as easy for God to bring them as it is for one who raises the signal to lead out those who are prepared and ready for the battle-line—which is just what happens in the case of racehorses.

For at the very moment the sign of release is raised, those horses immediately spring forth from the starting-gates.

Two things, then, the prophet here hints at: that it is easy for them to come when God calls, and that they would have come long ago, had not His great longsuffering held them back.

Then by his further explanation he shows the ease still more, saying:

And He will hiss for them from the end of the earth.

But do not marvel if, in discoursing about God, he has used such very crude expressions;

for he shapes his words to suit the dullness of the hearers, wishing to show one thing through all of them: that this is easy for God and that they will assuredly come.

And behold, swiftly, lightly they come.

They shall not hunger, nor grow weary, nor slumber, nor sleep.

These things are said by way of hyperbole.

For how could it be that men, who share the common lot of our nature, should neither hunger nor sleep? Rather, by all these words he sets forth the swiftness of the army, its readiness, its speed—the very thing I mentioned earlier.

Neither shall they loose the girdles from their loins, nor shall the thongs of their sandals be broken.

Whose arrows are sharp and their bows bent.

The hooves of their horses were counted as solid rock, the wheels of their chariots as a whirlwind.

They rage like lions, and stand ready like lions' cubs.

And he shall seize and roar like a wild beast, and cast forth;

and there shall be none to deliver them.

And he shall roar over them in that day, like the sound of a surging sea.

And they shall look up to the heaven above and down to the earth below;

and behold, harsh darkness, darkness in their distress.

Through all these things he swelled the discourse and heightened the fear, recounting each detail little by little—the matters concerning their resolve, concerning their strength, concerning their weapons, concerning their horses, concerning their chariots—so that by the multitude of the things said he might produce great anguish, and by the vividness of the images bring the events near to them.

Therefore he also compares them to lions, and not even here did he halt the illustration, but he even fashions the voice and the onrush of the wild beast, and

he continues in the metaphor and works the figure at great length.

And from there he leads the discourse on to the sea, saying that so great shall be the tumult, so great the turmoil, as would arise from a raging sea that stirs up its waves;

and he moves every device, magnifying the fear, so that they might have no need of the experience that comes through the events themselves.

And what is yet more grievous—that there shall not even be one to stand by them, he says, neither from the earth nor from the heavens;

but bereft both of the alliance from above and of the help from below, they shall be given over to their enemies.

And by darkness he here means that which comes upon them from the calamity—not as though the sun's ray were being extinguished, but because the disposition of those who suffer sees darkness instead of light in the very midst of noonday;

which is wont to befall those who are in pain and distress.

And that you may learn that the darkness was not of the nature of the air, but of their disposition, he added:

Harsh darkness in their distress.