馬太福音講道集 第 20 章

「Moreover when ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance.」

「For they disfigure their faces, that they may appear unto men to fast.」

Here it were fitting to groan aloud and to lament bitterly.

For not only do we imitate the hypocrites, but we have even surpassed them.

For I know, yea I know, many who not only fast and make a display of it, but who do not even fast and yet put around themselves the masks of those who fast, and who put forward an excuse worse than the sin itself.

「For that I may not offend the multitude,」 he says, 「I do this.」

What sayest thou? It is a divine law that commands these things, and dost thou make mention of an offence? And in keeping it dost thou think that thou art causing offence, but in transgressing it that thou art removing offence? And what could be worse than this absurdity? Wilt thou not cease from becoming worse than the hypocrites, and working a double hypocrisy? And when thou considerest how great is the excess of this wickedness, wilt thou not be ashamed at the force of this expression? For neither did He say simply that they act the hypocrite, but wishing to lay hold of them yet more severely, He says:

「For they disfigure their faces,」 that is to say, they corrupt them, they destroy them.

But if this is a disfiguring of the face—to appear pale for the sake of vainglory—what should we say concerning those women who corrupt their faces with paints and pigments, to the ruin of licentious young men? For the former ruined themselves,

but these ruin both themselves and those who look upon them.

Wherefore we must flee both this and that ruin by a great margin.

For He commanded not only not to make a display, but even to be earnest in remaining hidden;

which very thing He also did before.

And in the case of almsgiving He did not set it down simply, but having said, 「Take heed that ye do it not before men,」 He added, 「to be seen of them;」

but in the case of fasting and prayer He determined no such thing.

Why ever so? Because almsgiving it is altogether impossible to conceal;

but prayer and fasting, it is possible.

Just as, then, when He said, 「Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth,」 He was not speaking about hands, but about the necessity of escaping all men's notice with all exactness;

and having commanded to enter into the inner chamber, He did not by all means, nor primarily, enjoin us to pray there only, but again hinted at the same thing;

so also here, having commanded to anoint ourselves, He did not lay it down as a law that we should by all means anoint ourselves;

since we should all be found transgressing this law, and before all others those who have been most earnest to keep it—the throngs of the monks, who have taken possession of the mountains.

It was not, therefore, this that He enjoined;

but since it was the custom of the ancients to anoint themselves continually when they were glad and rejoicing (and this one may clearly perceive from David and from Daniel), He said 「anoint,」 not that we should by all means do this, but that through all things we should be earnest to conceal this possession with great exactness.

And that thou mayest learn that this is so, He Himself, having demonstrated by deeds this very thing which He enjoined by words, and having fasted forty days, and having fasted secretly, neither anointed Himself nor washed;

yet nevertheless, though He did not do even these things, He accomplished the whole thing most of all without vainglory.

This very thing then He also enjoins upon us, both bringing the hypocrites into the midst, and turning away His hearers by a twofold admonition.

And by this appellation—I mean that of 「the hypocrites」—He hinted at yet another thing.

For not only because the thing is ridiculous, nor only because it entails the utmost loss, but also because it shows such deceit to be but temporary, does He lead them away from the evil desire.

For the hypocrite appears splendid only so long as the theatre is in session;

or rather, not even then in the eyes of all.

For the greater part of the spectators know who he is that is playing whom.

Nevertheless, when the theatre has broken up, he is more plainly unmasked before all.

This same thing, then, the vainglorious too must by all means endure.

For even here they are manifest to the greater number, that they are not this which they appear to be, but only wear a mask;

but they shall be far more thoroughly detected afterward, when all things are laid bare and opened up.

And from another quarter again He leads them away from the hypocrites, by showing that the injunction is a light one.

For He does not intensify the fasting, nor command a greater one to be displayed, but only that the crown arising from it be not lost.

So that what seems to be burdensome is common to us and to the hypocrites;

but that which is very light—namely, when we have laboured, not to lose the reward—this is what I command, He says;

adding nothing to our toils, but gathering up our rewards for us with all security, and not suffering us to depart uncrowned, as He does those.

And they are not willing to imitate even those who wrestle in the Olympic games, who—though so great a populace is seated and so many rulers—desire to please the one who awards them the victory, and this though he be far inferior to them;

but thou, though thou hast a twofold ground for displaying thy victory to Him—both that He Himself is the Judge who awards it, and that He incomparably surpasses all who are seated in the theatre—dost display thyself to others, who not only in no way profit thee, but even do thee the greatest harm.

「Yet not even this do I forbid,」 He says.

「But if thou desirest to make a display even to men, wait, and I will furnish thee with this too, with greater abundance and much gain.」

For now this very thing tears thee away from the glory that comes from Me, just as, on the other hand, the despising of these things binds thee to it;

but then thou shalt enjoy all things with all security, reaping no small fruit, both before those rewards and here, in that thou hast trampled underfoot all human glory.

and hast been set free from the grievous bondage of men, and hast become a genuine worker of virtue.

Whereas now, being thus disposed, if thou shouldest come to be in solitude, thou wilt be destitute of all virtue, not having those who behold thee.

And this is to insult virtue itself, if indeed thou wouldest pursue her not for her own sake, but for the sake of the rope-maker and the coppersmith and the great throng of the marketplace, that even the wicked, and those who are far removed from her, may admire thee;

and thou callest her very enemies to the display and the beholding of her;

just as if one should choose to be chaste, not for the beauty of chastity, but that he might make a display to harlots.

So thou too, then, wouldest not have chosen virtue, except for the sake of the enemies of virtue;

whereas thou oughtest even on this very account to admire her, that she has even her enemies for her praisers;

yet to admire her, as one ought, not for the sake of others, but for her own sake.

Since we too, when we are loved not for our own sake but for the sake of others, count the thing an insult.

This same thing, then, reckon also in the matter of virtue;

and neither pursue her for the sake of others, nor obey God for the sake of men, but obey men for God's sake;

since, shouldest thou do the contrary, even though thou seemest to pursue virtue, thou hast provoked God to anger in like manner as he who does not pursue her at all.

For just as that man disobeyed by not doing, so also do you disobey by doing unlawfully.

Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth.

For since He had cast out the disease of vainglory, He seasonably now introduces also the discourse concerning freedom from possessions.

For nothing so disposes men to love money as the love of glory.

It is for this reason, then, that men devise their droves of slaves, their swarms of eunuchs, their horses adorned with gold, their tables of silver, and the other things yet more ridiculous;

not that they may satisfy any need, nor that they may enjoy any pleasure, but that they may make a display before the multitude.

Above, then, He said only that one must show mercy;

but here He shows also how much one ought to show mercy, by saying, Lay not up treasures.

For since it was not possible from the outset to bring in all at once the discourse concerning the contempt of riches, because of the tyranny of the passion, He divides it up little by little, and setting it free, instils it into the mind of His hearers, so that it may become readily acceptable.

For this reason, first He said, Blessed are the merciful;

and after this, Be well-disposed toward thine adversary;

and after that again, If any man will sue thee and take thy coat, give him thy cloak also;

but here what is far greater than all those things.

For there indeed He said, If thou seest a lawsuit pressing upon thee, do this;

for it is better for one who possesses nothing to be freed from strife than for one who possesses to be contending.

But here, setting down neither an adversary, nor one who goes to law, nor making mention of any other such thing, He teaches the contempt of riches by itself and for its own sake, showing that He makes this a law not so much for the sake of those who receive mercy as for the sake of the one who gives;

so that even if there be no one who wrongs us and drags us to the tribunal, even so we may despise our possessions, bestowing them upon those in need.

And not even here has He set down the whole matter, but even here He speaks gently, although in the wilderness He had displayed the contests concerning these things with much excess.

But nevertheless He does not set this down, nor bring it into the midst;

for it was not yet the time to unveil it;

but for the present He examines their reasonings, preserving in His words concerning these matters the rank of a counsellor rather than of a lawgiver.

For having said, Lay not up treasure upon the earth, He added;

Where moth and rust doth consume, and where thieves break through and steal.

For the present He shows the harm of the treasure here and the benefit of that treasure there, both from the place and from the things that spoil it.

And He does not stop even at this point, but brings in yet another consideration.

And first He exhorts them from the very things which they most dread.

Do you fear lest your money be consumed if you give alms? Nay, give alms, and then it shall not be consumed;

and what is more, that not only shall it not be consumed, but it shall even receive a greater increase;

for indeed the things in the heavens are added thereto.

But for the present He does not say this, but sets it down later.

But for now, that which was most able to exhort them,

this He brings into the midst, namely that their treasure remains for them unconsumed, and He draws them on from both sides.

For neither did He say only that, If thou give alms, it is preserved, but He also threatened the contrary, that, If thou give not, it perishes.

And behold His unspeakable wisdom.

For neither did He say that, Thou dost leave them behind for others;

since this too is pleasing to men;

but nevertheless He alarms them from another quarter, showing that they do not even attain to this;

for even if men do them no wrong, there are those who assuredly wrong them, the moth and the rust.

For though this ruin seems very easy to be caught, yet nevertheless it is irresistible and not to be restrained;

and whatsoever thou mayest devise, thou wilt not be able to check this harm.

What then? Does the moth consume gold? Even if not the moth, yet thieves do.

What then? Have all men been plundered? Even if not all, yet the greater part.

For this reason, then, He brings in yet another consideration, which I mentioned before, saying:

Where a man's treasure is, there is his heart also.

For even though none of these things happen, He says, thou wilt undergo no small harm, being nailed to the things below, becoming a slave instead of a free man, falling away from the things of heaven, and being able to conceive nothing lofty, but all thy thoughts being of money and interest and loans and gains and base huckstering;

than which what could be more wretched? For such a man will be in a worse plight than any slave, drawing upon himself a most grievous tyranny, and betraying the most vital thing of all, the nobility and the freedom of man.

For however much one may discourse with thee, while thy mind is nailed to thy riches, thou wilt be able to hear nothing of the things that concern thee;

but like a dog fastened to a tomb, bound by the tyranny of riches more grievously than by any chain, barking against all who approach, thou hast this one work continually, to keep safe for others the things that lie stored up;

than which what could be more wretched? Nevertheless, since this was too lofty for the understanding of the hearers;

and neither was the harm of it easily discernible to the many, nor its gain apparent, but it required a more philosophic mind to perceive both these things together;

He set it down after those plainer sayings, saying:

Where a man's treasure is, there is his heart also;

and He makes it plainer again, carrying the discourse from things intelligible to things perceptible to the senses, and saying:

The lamp of the body is the eye.

And what He says is of this kind:

Bury not gold in the earth, nor any other such thing whatsoever;

for thou art gathering them together for the moth and the rust and the thieves.

And even if thou escape these harms, the enslaving of thy heart and its being nailed to all the things below, this thou wilt not escape;

For wheresoever thy treasure is, there is thy heart also.

Therefore, just as one who lays up in heaven reaps not this fruit alone, the obtaining of the rewards laid up for these things, but even from here already receives his recompense, being transported thither, and minding the things there, and being anxious for the things there;

for where thou hast laid up thy treasure, it is evident that thou dost also transfer thy mind thither.

So if thou do this upon the earth, thou wilt suffer the contrary.

But if what has been said be obscure to thee, hearken to what follows:

The lamp of the body is the eye.

If therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light;

but if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness.

But if the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!

He carries the discourse on to things yet more perceptible to the senses.

For since He had made mention of the mind, as being enslaved and led captive, and this was not easily discernible to the many, He transfers the teaching to the things outside and lying before the eyes, that from these they may form a conception concerning those things also.

For if thou knowest not, He says, what harm to the mind may be, learn it thoroughly from the things of the body:

For what the eye is to the body, this the mind is to the soul.

As, therefore, you would not choose to wear gold and to be clothed in silken garments while your eyes were maimed, but rather you reckon the soundness of these more to be desired than all such abundance—for if you lose and destroy it, the rest of your life is of no profit to you—

for just as, when the eyes are blinded, the greater part of the activity of the remaining

members is gone, since their light is quenched—so also, when the understanding is corrupted, your life will be filled with countless evils.

As, therefore, in the body we aim at this—that the eye be sound—so also in the soul we should aim to keep the mind sound.

But if we maim this—which ought to furnish light even to the rest—whence shall we thereafter see clearly? For as one who removes the spring also dries up the river, so he who obliterates the mind renders turbid all his conduct in this life.

Therefore He says, 'If the light that is in you be darkness, how great is that darkness!' For when the pilot is sunk beneath the waves, and the lamp is quenched, and the leader is taken captive, what hope thereafter remains for those under his charge?

For this reason, then, forbearing now to speak of the plots that arise on account of wealth, the fights, the lawsuits—

(for He had hinted at these above when He said,

'Your adversary will deliver you to the judge, and the judge to the officer')—having laid down as certainly befalling that which is harsher than all these, He thus leads them away from the wicked desire.

For far worse than to dwell in prison is it that the mind should be enslaved to this disease;

and the one does not by any means always come to pass, but the other is bound up as an inseparable inheritance with the desire for riches.

Wherefore He sets it after that other, inasmuch as it is harsher and altogether comes to pass.

For God, He says, gave us a mind, that we might scatter ignorance, that we might have right judgment of matters, and that, using it against all things grievous and hurtful as a kind of weapon and light, we might abide in safety.

But we betray the gift for the sake of things superfluous and unprofitable.

For what profit is there in soldiers wearing gold, when the general is dragged away captive? What gain in a ship adorned, when the pilot is sunk beneath the waves? What advantage in a body well-composed, when the eyes are cut out of their sight? As, therefore, if a man should cast into sickness the physician who ought to be in health so as to cure diseases, and bid him lie upon a silver bed and in a golden chamber, there would be no profit to the sick—

so, if having corrupted the mind that is able to loose the passions, you set it beside a treasure, not only have you profited nothing, but you have inflicted the greatest damage, and have injured the whole soul.

Do you see how, by the very things men most desire, He everywhere leads them away from wickedness by these very things, and brings them back to virtue? For what is it, He says, for the sake of which you desire riches?

Is it not that you may enjoy pleasure and luxury? Yet this, above all, will not be yours from thence, but rather the very opposite.

For if, when our eyes are cut out, we perceive none of the pleasant things because of the calamity that comes thence, much more shall we suffer this in the perversion and maiming of the mind.

And for what reason do you bury it in the ground? That it may be kept in safety? But here again, on the contrary, He says—

As, therefore, He drew away the man who fasts and gives alms and prays unto vainglory—from those very things which he most desires—to the not being vainglorious;

(for wherefore, He says, do you thus pray and give alms?

loving the glory that is from men? Do not, then, pray thus, He says, and then you shall obtain it in the day to come;)—so also the lover of money He took captive from those things about which he was most earnest.

your money to be kept safe, and to enjoy pleasure? Both these will I furnish you, and with much abundance, if you lay up your gold there, where I bid you.

More clearly, indeed, in what follows did He show the injury to the mind that comes thence, when He made mention of the thorns;

but for the present even here He hinted at this not casually, showing that he who rages after these things is darkened.

And just as those who are in darkness see nothing clearly, but whether they behold a rope, they think it a serpent, or mountains and ravines, they are dead with fear—

so also these men hold in suspicion those very things which are not fearful to such as see;

or rather, not poverty only, but even any loss whatever that befalls.

For indeed, even if they lose some little thing, they grieve and are cut to the heart more than those who lack necessary food.

and, though wealthy, some have even come to the noose, being unable to bear such a day of misfortune.

And to be insulted and to be wronged seems to them so unbearable that on this account also many have been torn away from the present life.

For wealth has made them soft toward all things, except its own service.

For when it bids them serve it, they dare even murders and scourgings,

and reproaches, and every kind of shame.

Which is the extreme of misery: in those things wherein one ought to practice self-mastery, to be softer than all;

but in those things wherein one ought to be more reverent, to become again more shameless and more reckless.

For indeed the same thing happens to these men as would befall one who had spent all his substance upon things not needful.

For such a one, when the season of necessary expenditure comes upon him, having nothing to contribute, suffers irremediable evils, all his goods having been evilly spent beforehand.

And just as those on the stage who know those wicked arts endure, in these, many strange and perilous feats, but in other useful and necessary matters are the most ridiculous of all—

for indeed those who walk upon a stretched rope, displaying such great courage, whenever any of the necessary matters demands daring and courage, cannot so much as conceive of any such thing, nor endure it—

so also do the wealthy: daring all things for the sake of money, for the sake of self-mastery they cannot endure to bear any such thing, small or great.

And just as those handle a business both perilous and unprofitable,

so also these endure many dangers and precipices, but arrive at no useful end, and endure a twofold darkness, being maimed by the perversion of the mind on the one hand, and on the other suffering a thick mist from the deceit of their cares.

Wherefore neither can they easily see clearly.

For he who is in darkness, so soon as the sun appears, is delivered from the darkness;

but he whose sight is maimed, not even when the sun appears.

For neither, when the Sun of Righteousness has shone and exhorts, do they hear, wealth having shut up their eyes.

Wherefore also they endure a twofold darkness:

the one from themselves, the other from their not giving heed to the Teacher.

Let us therefore give heed to Him with exactness, that late at least, at some time, we may recover our sight.

And how is it possible to recover sight? If you learn how you were blinded.

How, then, were you blinded? By the wicked desire.

For just as a corrupt humour flowing over a pure pupil, the love of money made a thick cloud.

But it is easy for this cloud both to be scattered and to be broken, if we receive the ray of Christ's teaching;

if we hearken to Him exhorting and saying,

'Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth.'

And what, one says, do I gain more from the hearing, when I am held fast by the desire? Nay, above all, the continual hearing will be able to break down even the desire.

But if, then, you continue to be held fast, consider that the thing is not even a desire.

For what desire is it, to serve grievously, and to be subject to a tyranny, and to be bound on every side, and to spend one's time in darkness, and to be full of tumult, and to endure unprofitable toils, and to keep the money for others—and often even for enemies? Of what desire are these things worthy? Rather, of what flight and fleeing are they not worthy? What desire is it, to store up a treasure in the midst of thieves? For if you altogether desire money, transfer it thither where it can remain safe and unmolested.

For what you now do is not the act of one who desires money, but of slavery, and outrage, and loss, and perpetual pain.

But you—if some man should point out on the earth a place free from molestation, even if he should lead you out into the very desert, promising safety for the keeping of your money—you do not hesitate, nor draw back, but you even entrust it, and cast your money out there;

but when God, instead of men, promises you this, and sets before you not the desert but heaven, you accept the contrary.

And yet, though it be secured below ten thousand times over, you will never be able to become free from care.

though you lose it not, you will never be delivered from the anxiety lest you lose it.

But there you shall undergo none of these things;

and what is more, that you do not merely bury the gold, but even plant it.

For the same thing is both a treasure and a seed;

or rather, it is more than either of these.

For the seed does not endure forever, but this endures perpetually.

Again, the treasure does not sprout, but this one bears you immortal fruits.

But if you plead with me the length of time and the delay of the repayment, I too am able to show and to tell how much you receive even here and now;

and apart from these things, I will attempt to convict you from the affairs of everyday life itself, that you allege these excuses in vain.

For you build up many things even in the present life which you yourself are not going to enjoy;

and if anyone finds fault, by putting forward your children and their children, you think you have found a sufficient consolation for your superfluous labours.

For when, having come to extreme old age, you build splendid houses, from which you will often depart before their completion, and you plant trees which will bear their fruit only after many years;

[when you plant trees in a field, whose fruit will come after ten thousand years,] and you buy estates and inheritances, of which you will receive ownership only after a long time, and you toil at many other such things whose enjoyment you will not reap;

do you then do it for your own sake, or for those who come after? How then is it not the utmost folly, that here you fret not at all over the delay of time — and that too when you are destined, because of all this delaying, to fall away from the recompense of your labours —

yet there you grow numb because of the postponement, and that when it brings you all the more gain, and does not transmit the good things to others but conveys the gifts to you yourself? And apart from these considerations, the delay is not even long.

For the events are at the very doors, and we do not know whether even in our own generation all our affairs may reach their end, and that fearful day may arrive,

displaying to us the dread and incorruptible tribunal.

For most of the signs have been accomplished, and the Gospel has now been preached everywhere throughout the inhabited world, and the events of wars, and of earthquakes, and of famines have come to pass, and the interval is not great.

But you do not see signs? This very thing is itself the greatest sign.

For neither did those in the days of Noah see any prelude of that utter destruction, but in the meantime, playing, eating, marrying, doing all their accustomed things, they were thus overtaken by that fearful judgment.

And likewise those in Sodom, living in luxury and suspecting nothing of what was to happen, were consumed by the thunderbolts that were then hurled down.

Considering therefore all these things, let us turn ourselves to the preparation for our departure hence.

For even if the common day of the consummation should never come upon us, each one's own end is at the doors, whether one be aged or young;

and it is not possible, once we have departed hence, either to buy oil any longer, or, when we entreat, to obtain pardon, even were Abraham the one interceding, or Noah, or Job, or Daniel.

While therefore we have time, let us lay up beforehand for ourselves much boldness, let us gather abundant oil, let us transfer everything into heaven, that at the fitting season, and in that very hour when we most have need of them, we may enjoy all things, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.