馬太福音講道集 第 4 章

'So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations;'

'and from David until the carrying away into Babylon are fourteen generations;'

'and from the carrying away into Babylon unto Christ are fourteen generations.'

He divided all the generations into three parts, showing that not even when their forms of government were changed did they become better, but whether under aristocracy, or under monarchy, or under oligarchy, they were in the same evils;

and neither when demagogues, nor priests, nor kings governed them, did they gain anything more in respect of virtue.

But for what reason, in the middle portion he passed over three kings, while in the last, having set down twelve generations, he said they were fourteen? The former point I leave to you to inquire into;

for it is not necessary to solve everything for you, lest ye grow slothful;

but the second point we ourselves will state.

For here it seems to me that he places both the period of the captivity in the rank of a generation, and Christ Himself, joining Him to us from every side.

And he well recalls that captivity also, making clear that not even when they had gone down thither did they become more self-controlled;

so that from every side His coming might appear necessary.

Why then does Mark not do this, someone asks, nor trace the genealogy of Christ, but utter everything concisely? It seems to me that Matthew began the work before the others;

wherefore he also sets down the genealogy with accuracy, and dwells upon the pressing matters;

but Mark came after him, wherefore he took the shorter road, inasmuch as the things had already been spoken and were plain to the nation to which the Jewish people gave the greater heed.

For this reason this manner of prefaces was necessary among them.

But if ever signs were also wrought, they were wrought for the sake of the barbarians, that many might become proselytes, and for a demonstration of the power of God, whenever their enemies, having taken them captive, supposed that they had prevailed because the gods among themselves were strong;

as in Egypt, whence also a great mixed multitude went up;

and afterwards in Babylon, the events concerning the furnace and the dreams.

And signs also came to pass when they were by themselves, in the wilderness, just as also in our own day;

for indeed among us too, when we were coming out of error, many wonders were displayed;

when true religion was being planted.

But if they also occurred afterwards, they were few and scattered;

as, for instance, when the sun stood still upon him who undertook these things.

How then does Luke both trace the genealogy and do this at greater length? Inasmuch as Matthew had prepared the way, he wishes to teach us something more than what had been said.

And each one likewise imitated his own teacher;

the one imitated Paul, flowing more than the rivers;

the other imitated Peter, who was careful of brevity.

And why, pray, did Matthew at the outset not say, as the prophet did:

'and, The word which came unto me'? Because he was writing to men of right disposition, and such as gave close heed to him.

For indeed the wonders that had come to pass cried aloud, and those who received them were exceedingly faithful.

But in the case of the prophets, neither were there so many wonders proclaiming them, and the throng of false prophets abounded greatly, checking the course and again driving it back.

And one may see this to have come to pass in our own case also.

For indeed in our own generation, in the time of Julian, who surpassed all men in impiety, many strange things came to pass.

For when the Jews were attempting to raise up again the temple in Jerusalem, fire leaping out from the foundations hindered them all;

And when he displayed his drunken outrage against the sacred vessels, both the treasurer and that man's uncle who bore the same name — the one, eaten by worms, gave up the ghost, while the other was rent asunder through the midst.

And the failing of the springs when the sacrifices were being offered there, and the famine that fell upon the cities together with the king himself — this was a very great sign.

For it is God's custom to do such things:

when evils have increased, and He beholds His own people afflicted, while the adversaries are drunk with the excess of their tyranny against them, then it is that He displays His own dominion.

This He did also in Persia, in the case of the Jews.

That, therefore, it was not simply nor by chance that he divided the ancestors of Christ into three sections, is plain from what has been said.

Consider too from where he begins and where he ends:

from Abraham to David;

from David to the deportation to Babylon;

from this to Christ Himself.

For indeed, in beginning he set the two in succession, both David and Abraham, and in summing up he made mention of both alike.

For, as I said before, it was to them that the promises had been made.

But why then, just as he made mention of the deportation to Babylon, did he not also mention the going down into Egypt? Because those they no longer feared, but at these they still trembled;

and the one was ancient, but the other was recent and but lately come to pass;

and there they were carried down not on account of sins, but here they were carried away because of transgressions.

But if one should also attempt to render the interpretations of their very names, he will find much contemplation arising even from this, and much that contributes to the New Testament;

as for instance, from Abraham, from Jacob, from Solomon, from Zerubbabel;

for it was not simply that these names were laid upon them.

But lest we should seem to weary you by making our discourse too long, let us pass these things by and go on to the more pressing matters.

Having then named all the ancestors, and ended with Joseph, he did not stop there, but added:

showing that it was on her account that he traced this man's genealogy also.

Then, lest on hearing 'the husband of Mary' you should suppose that He was born by the common law of nature, see how he corrects this by what he adds.

You have heard, he says, of a husband; you have heard of a mother; you have heard of a name given to the child;

therefore hear also the manner of the birth.

Now the birth of Jesus Christ was in this wise.

Of what birth are you speaking to me? tell me;

seeing that you have already told of the ancestors.

But I desire to speak also of the manner of the birth.

Do you see how he roused up the hearer? For as one about to say something more novel, he promises to tell the manner as well.

And observe the most excellent sequence of what has been said.

For he did not at once come to the birth, but first reminds us of how many generations He was removed from Abraham, how many from David, from the deportation to Babylon; and by these things he casts the careful hearer into an examination of the times, showing that this is He —

that Christ who was proclaimed through the prophets.

For when you have numbered the generations, and learned from the time that this is He, you will easily receive also the miracle that came to pass concerning the birth.

For since he was about to utter something great — that He was born of a Virgin — before numbering the time he casts a shadow over what has been said, by saying 'the husband of Mary,' or rather he even cuts short the account of the birth itself;

and then he numbers the years besides, reminding the hearer that this is He whom the patriarch Jacob declared would come when the Jewish rulers should at length fail;

whom the prophet Daniel foretold would come after those many weeks.

And if one should be willing to reckon down these years, spoken of in the number of weeks by the angel to Daniel, from the building of the city unto His birth, he will see these agreeing with those.

How then was He born? tell me. When His mother Mary had been betrothed.

He did not say 'a virgin,' but simply 'a mother,' that the word might be the more readily received.

Wherefore, having first prepared the hearer to expect to hear something of the usual sort, and having held him fast by this, he then astounds him by bringing in the marvellous fact, saying that 'before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Spirit.'

before she was brought into the house of the bridegroom;

for it was the custom among the ancients, for the most part, to keep those betrothed in the house, seeing that even now one may see this being done;

and Lot's sons-in-law also were within, with him.

So she too was within, with Joseph.

And for what reason did she not conceive before the betrothal? In order that, as I said from the beginning, what was taking place might for a while be overshadowed, and that the Virgin might escape every evil suspicion.

For when he who above all others ought to have been jealous appears not only not exposing her to public shame nor dishonouring her, but even receiving her and ministering to her after the conception, it is quite plain that, unless he had clearly persuaded himself that what was born was of the Spirit's working, he would not have retained her and rendered all the other services.

And most fitly indeed did he set down the words, 'She was found with child';

which is wont to be said of things marvellous, and coming to pass beyond all hope, and unlooked for.

Do not therefore go further, nor seek anything more than what has been said, nor say:

And how did the Spirit work this of a virgin? For if, when nature is at work, it is impossible to explain the manner of the forming, how shall we be able to tell these things when the Spirit is working wonders? So that he might not weary the evangelist, nor trouble him by continually asking these things, having named the One who wrought the miracle, he was rid of the matter.

For I know nothing more, he says, save only that what was born came to pass of the Holy Spirit.

Let them be ashamed who busy themselves in prying into the generation from above.

For if no one can explain this birth, which has ten thousand witnesses, and was proclaimed so many ages before, and was made manifest and handled, what excess of madness do they leave behind who busy themselves and meddle with that ineffable generation? For neither Gabriel nor Matthew was able to say anything more, save only that it was of the Spirit;

but how it was of the Spirit, and in what manner, none of these explained;

nor think that you have learned the whole, in hearing 'of the Spirit';

for indeed there are many things of which we are still ignorant, even while learning this;

as, for instance, how the Infinite is in a womb;

how He who upholds all things is carried in the womb by a woman;

how the Virgin brings forth, and remains a virgin.

How, tell me, did the Spirit frame that temple? how did He take not all the flesh from the womb, but a part of it, and cause it to grow and gave it shape? For that He came forth from the flesh of the Virgin, he made plain by saying —

and Paul, 'made of a woman';

stopping the mouths of those who say that Christ passed through as through some conduit.

For if this were so, what need of the womb? If this were so, He has nothing in common with us;

but that flesh would be some other kind, not of our lump.

How then is He of the root of Jesse? and how a rod? how a son of man? how

is Mary His mother? how of the seed of David? how did He take the form of a servant? how did The Word become flesh? and how does Paul say to the Romans —

'Of whom is Christ according to the flesh, who is God over all'? That, then, He is of us and of our lump, and of the virgin womb, is plain from these things and from many others besides;

do not then, you also, inquire, but receive what has been revealed, and do not busy yourself with what has been kept silent.

Now Joseph her husband, being a just man, he says, and not willing to make her a public example, was minded to put her away privily.

Having said that it was of the Holy Spirit, and without intercourse, he establishes the statement from yet another quarter as well.

For lest anyone should say, 'Whence is this evident? Who saw, who ever heard of such a thing coming to pass?' — and lest you should suspect the disciple of inventing these things to gratify his Master — he brings in Joseph, who by what he suffered contributes to the credibility of what has been said, all but declaring by what he reports:

'If you do not believe me, and are suspicious of my testimony, believe the man.'

'For Joseph,' he says, 'her husband, being a righteous man'.

By 'righteous' he here means the man virtuous in all things.

For righteousness is indeed also the not being covetous;

but there is also righteousness in the sense of virtue as a whole;

and it is especially in this latter sense that the Scripture employs the term 'righteousness' in his case, as when it says:

'A man righteous and true';

and again, 'And they were both righteous.'

'Being righteous, therefore' — that is, kind and forbearing — 'he was minded to put her away privily.'

For this reason he tells of what happened before Joseph's knowledge of the matter, so that you may not disbelieve what came to pass after he came to know.

And yet such a woman was liable not only to public exposure, but the Law also commanded that she be punished.

But Joseph remitted not only that greater penalty, but also the lesser one, namely the disgrace.

For not only did he not wish to punish her, but he did not even wish to expose her.

Do you see a man of true wisdom, delivered from the most tyrannical of passions? For you know how great a thing jealousy is.

For this reason also he who knew these things clearly said:

'For the wrath of a man is full of jealousy;

he will not spare in the day of judgement';

and, 'Jealousy is cruel as the grave.'

And we too know of many who have chosen rather to give up their very life than to fall under a suspicion of jealousy.

But here there was not even any suspicion, for the swelling of the womb convicted her.

Nevertheless he was so pure from passion, that he was unwilling to grieve the Virgin even in the smallest matters.

For since to keep her within his house seemed to be a transgression of the Law, while to make a public spectacle of her and bring her to judgement would have compelled him to deliver her over to death,

he does none of these things, but now already conducts himself above the Law.

For it was fitting that, now that grace had come, there should henceforth be many signs of a lofty manner of life.

For just as the sun, even before it has shown its rays, illumines from afar with its light the greater part of the world;

so also Christ, when about to rise from that womb, even before He came forth, lit up the whole world.

Wherefore also, even before the birth-pangs, prophets leaped for joy, and women foretold things to come, and John, not yet come forth from the belly, leaped from within his mother's womb.

Hence this man too displayed great wisdom;

for he neither brought a charge against her, nor reproached her, but only sought to send her away.

When, therefore, matters were in this state, and everything was in perplexity, the angel comes, resolving all the difficulties.

But it is worth inquiring why the angel did not speak before this, before the man had conceived this thought, but comes only after he had deliberated;

for it says, 'While he thought on these things, the angel comes.'

And yet He brings the good tidings to her even before she conceived — which itself again presents another difficulty.

For even if the angel had not told him, why did the Virgin keep silence, when she had heard from the angel, and, seeing her betrothed troubled, did not resolve his perplexity? Why, then, did the angel not speak before he was troubled? For it was necessary first to resolve the earlier difficulty.

Why, then, did he not speak? So that Joseph might not disbelieve, and suffer the same as Zacharias.

For when the thing is already visible, faith thereafter is easy;

but when it has not yet even taken its beginning, it is not so.

then what was said would be readily accepted.

For this reason the angel did not speak from the beginning;

and the Virgin also kept silence for the same reason.

For she did not think she would be believed by her betrothed, in announcing so strange a thing;

but rather that she would provoke him the more, as though she were covering up a sin that had been committed.

For if she herself, who was to receive so great a grace, suffered something human, and says:

'How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?' — much more would he have doubted;

and especially hearing it from a woman who was under suspicion.

For these reasons the Virgin says nothing to him, but the angel, when the occasion called for it, presents himself.

'Why, then,' one may ask, 'did he not do this in the case of the Virgin also, and bring her the good tidings after the conception?' So that she might not be in confusion and great disturbance.

For it was likely that, not knowing the certainty, she might have devised some untoward thing concerning herself, and come to the noose or the sword, being unable to bear the shame.

For the Virgin was indeed wonderful, and Luke shows her virtue, saying that when she heard the salutation, she did not straightway pour herself out, nor accept what was said;

but she was troubled, seeking what manner of salutation this might be.

But she who was so exact and careful would surely have been beside herself with despondency, reckoning up the shame, and not expecting, whatever she might say, to persuade any of her hearers that what had happened was no adultery.

So that these things might not come to pass, the angel came before the conception.

For it was needful that that womb, upon which the Maker of all set foot, should be free from all disturbance,

and that the soul which was counted worthy to become the minister of such mysteries should be delivered from all commotion.

For these reasons He speaks to the Virgin before the conception, but to Joseph at the season of the birth-pangs;

which many of the simpler sort, not perceiving, have said to be a discrepancy, because Luke says that the good tidings were brought to Mary, while Matthew says to Joseph, not knowing that both took place.

And this it is necessary to observe throughout the whole history;

for thus we shall resolve many things that seem to be discrepancies.

The angel, then, comes while Joseph was troubled.

For both on account of what has been said, and so that his true wisdom might be made manifest, He deferred His coming.

But when the work was about to come to its issue, He then at length presents Himself.

'But while he thought on these things, an angel appears to Joseph in a dream.'

Do you see the man's forbearance? Not only in that he did not punish her, but in that he did not even tell anyone, not even her who was under suspicion, but reasoned within himself, striving to hide the cause even from the Virgin herself.

For he did not say, 'He wished to cast her out,' but 'to put her away';

so gentle and forbearing was the man.

And while he was pondering these things, the angel appears in a dream.

And why not openly, as to the shepherds and to Zacharias and to the Virgin? The man was exceedingly faithful, and had no need of this vision.

For the Virgin, inasmuch as she was receiving tidings of something very great, even greater than what was told to Zacharias, and that before the event, had need also of an extraordinary vision;

and the shepherds, inasmuch as they were of a ruder disposition.

But this man, after the conception, when his soul had at last been seized by an evil suspicion and yet stood ready to be transferred to kindlier hopes should anyone appear to guide him toward this, readily receives the revelation.

For this reason the good news is brought to him after the suspicion, so that this very fact might become for him a proof of what was spoken.

For the fact that he had told no one, but heard the angel speaking the very things he had pondered in his mind, furnished him with an indisputable sign that the speaker had come from God;

for it belongs to Him alone to know the hidden secrets of the heart.

And so the man's high-mindedness is displayed, and the timely word contributes to his faith, and the account becomes free of suspicion, showing that he had suffered only what it was natural for a man to suffer.

How then does the angel assure him? Listen, and marvel at the wisdom of the words spoken.

"Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife."

At once he reminds him of David, from whom the Christ was to come, and does not allow him

to be thrown into confusion, having recalled, by the naming of his forefathers, the promise made to the whole race.

For with what purpose did he call him son of David? "Do not be afraid";

and yet elsewhere God does not act thus, but when someone was purposing concerning a woman what he ought not, God employed His word more sharply and with a threat;

and yet even there the matter was one of ignorance;

for that man too took Sarah without knowing;

for great was the magnitude of the things being dispensed, and great too the distance between the two men;

wherefore neither was there need of rebuke.

And by saying "Do not be afraid," he shows that Joseph was afraid lest he give offense to God by keeping an adulteress, so that, had this not been so, he would not even have thought of putting her away.

Through everything, then, he shows that the angel has come from God, bringing forward and setting before him all that he had thought and all that he had suffered in his mind.

And having spoken her name, he did not stop there, but added, "your wife" — he would not have called her so had she been corrupted.

Here he calls the betrothed "wife";

just as Scripture is also accustomed to call the suitors "sons-in-law" even before the marriage.

And what does "to take" mean? To keep her within;

for already in his mind she had been released.

"This one who has been released," he says, "keep her, whom God, not her parents, hands over to you;

and He hands her over not for marriage, but for dwelling together, and He hands her over through my voice.

Just as Christ afterward also handed her over to the disciple, so now also to Joseph.

Then, having also hinted at the matter, he did not name the evil suspicion, but more reverently and more fittingly did away with it too by the cause of the birth-pangs, showing that on account of the very thing he had feared and wished to put her away, on account of this very thing he would rightly both take her and keep her within — resolving his anguish out of the abundance of his reasoning.

"For not only," he says, "is she free from unlawful union, but she conceives above nature."

"Therefore do not merely release your fear, but rejoice all the more;

for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit."

Paradoxical is what has been said, transcending human reasoning, and higher than the laws of nature.

How then will the man inexperienced in such narratives believe? "From the things past," he says, "from the revelations."

For on this account he uncovered all that was in his mind — what he had suffered, what he had feared, what he had purposed to do — so that from those things this too might be confirmed;

or rather, he draws him on not from the things past alone, but also from the things to come.

"She will bear," he says, "a son, and you shall call His name Jesus."

"For do not, because it is of the Holy Spirit, suppose that you are estranged from the ministry that pertains to this dispensation.

For although you contribute nothing to the birth, but the Virgin remained untouched, nevertheless that which is a father's own — without any harm to the dignity of virginity — this I give to you: to bestow the name upon the one born;

for although the offspring is not yours, yet you shall display a father's part concerning Him."

"For this reason I even make you kin to the one born at once, through the giving of the name."

Then, lest again from this someone should suspect him to be a father, hear how carefully he sets down what follows.

He did not say, "She will bear to you," but simply, "She will bear," leaving it indefinite;

for she was not bearing to him, but to the whole world.

For this reason too the angel came bringing the name from heaven, and thereby showing the birth to be wondrous, in that it was God who sent down the appellation from above through the angel to Joseph.

For neither was this a mere trifle, but a treasure of countless good things.

Wherefore the angel also interprets it, and holds out kindly hopes, and by this draws him toward faith.

For toward these things we are wont to be more inclined;

wherefore also we are the more disposed to believe them.

Having therefore established faith from all sides — from the things past, from the things to come, from the things present, from the honor shown toward Him — he timely brings in the prophet also, who casts his vote in agreement with all these.

But before bringing him in, he proclaims beforehand the good things that were to come upon the world through Him.

The riddance and abolition of sins.

"For He Himself," he says, "will save His people from their sins." And here too he indicates the paradox.

For he brings the good news not of sensible wars, nor of barbarians, but of what was far greater than these — the deliverance from sins;

which had never before been possible for anyone.

"And for what reason," one may ask, "did he say 'His people,' and not add 'and the nations' as well?" That he might not for the present alarm the hearer.

For to the one who hears with understanding, he hinted at the nations as well.

For His people are not the Jews only, but also all who come to Him and receive the knowledge that is from Him.

And consider how he opened up to us also His dignity, by calling the Jewish nation His people.

For this shows nothing other than that the one born is the Child of God, and that his discourse concerns the King of the powers above.

For neither does the forgiving of sins belong to any other power, save to that Being alone.

Since therefore we have enjoyed so great a gift, let us do all things, so as not to outrage so great a benefaction.

For if even before this honor the things done were worthy of punishment, much more so after this unspeakable benefaction.

And I say these things now not casually, but because I see many, after baptism, continuing more careless than the uninitiated, and possessing no distinguishing mark of their manner of life.

For this reason it is not possible, whether in the marketplace or in the church, quickly to know who is the believer and who the unbeliever — unless one should chance to be present at the time of the mysteries, and see some being sent out and others remaining within.

But it ought to be not by the place, but by the manner, that one is recognized.

For outward dignities are naturally made evident from the outward tokens that surround them;

but our things ought to be recognized from the soul.

For the believer ought to appear such not from the gift alone, but also from the newness of his life.

The believer must be a light of the world, and salt.

But when you give light neither to yourself, nor bind fast your own corruption, from where shall we henceforth know you? That you have set foot upon the sacred streams? But this becomes for you provision for punishment.

For the greatness of the honor becomes an increase of punishment for those who choose to live unworthily of the honor.

For the believer ought to shine forth not from what he received from God alone, but also from what he himself has contributed, and to be recognized on every side — from his walk, from his glance, from his bearing, from his voice.

I have said these things not for display, but that we may order ourselves rightly for the benefit of those who behold us.

But as things now stand, from whatever direction I seek to recognize you, everywhere I find you appearing as the very opposite.

For if I wish to gauge you from your place of resort, I see you passing whole days in horse-races and theatres and lawless doings, in wicked gatherings in the marketplace, and in the company of corrupted men;

and if from the fashion of your countenance, I see you perpetually cackling with laughter and dissolute, like some grinning and shameless harlot;

and if from your garments, I see you disposed no better than those upon the stage;

and if from your attendants, you drag about parasites and flatterers;

and if from your words, I hear you utter nothing sound, nothing needful, nothing that holds our life together;

and if from your table, the accusation from that quarter will appear even greater.

Whence then, tell me, shall I be able to recognize you as one of the faithful, when all that has been said votes to the contrary? And why do I speak of the faithful? For I cannot even clearly learn whether you are a man at all.

For when you kick like an ass, and leap like a bull, and neigh after women like a horse;

and are gluttonous like a bear, and fatten your flesh like a mule;

and bear grudges like a camel;

and snatch like a wolf, and grow angry like a serpent, and sting like a scorpion, and are treacherous like a fox, and keep the venom of malice like an asp and a viper, and wage war against your brethren like that wicked demon:

how shall I be able to number you among men, when I do not see in you the marks of such a nature? For while seeking the difference between a catechumen and one of the faithful, I am in danger of failing even to find the difference between a man and a beast.

the difference, I say, between a man and a wild beast.

For what shall I call you? A beast? But the beasts are held fast by one only of these vices;

but you, having heaped all of them together at once, travel far beyond their irrationality.

But shall I call you a demon? Yet a demon is neither enslaved to the tyranny of the belly, nor is it enamored of money.

Since then you have more vices than both beasts and demons, how shall we call you a man, tell me? And if you cannot be called a man, how shall we address you as one of the faithful? And what is yet more grievous is this: that being in so evil a condition, we do not even consider the deformity of our soul, nor do we perceive its unsightliness.

But while sitting in the barber's shop and having your hair cut, you take the mirror and examine with all exactness the arrangement of your hair, and you ask those standing by, and the very man who cut it, whether he has well composed the locks about your forehead;

and though often an old man, you are not ashamed to rave over youthful fancies;

yet of our soul, which has become not only deformed, but even beast-shaped, and, according to the outside fable, a very Scylla or Chimaera, we perceive not even a little.

And yet here too there is a spiritual mirror, and one far better and more useful than that other;

for it does not merely show the deformity, but also transforms it into unspeakable beauty, if we are willing.

And this mirror is the remembrance of good men, and the record of their blessed life, the reading of the Scriptures, the laws given by God.

And if you are willing but once only to look upon the images of those holy men, you will see the unsightliness of your own mind; and having seen it, you will thenceforth need nothing else to be delivered from this foulness.

For to this end also the mirror is useful to us, and it makes the transformation easy.

Let no one, therefore, remain in the form of the irrational creatures.

For if the servant does not enter into his father's house, when you yourself have become also a beast, how shall you be able to set foot upon those forecourts? And why do I speak of a beast? Such a one is more grievous than any beast.

For those creatures, though wild by nature, having enjoyed man's skill, often become tame;

but you, who have changed their natural savagery into a tameness contrary to their nature, what defense will you have, when you have led out your own natural gentleness into a savagery contrary to your nature? and while showing what is wild by nature to be tame, you set up yourself, who are gentle by nature, as wild contrary to nature? and while you tame the lion and make it manageable, you render your own wrath fiercer than a lion? And yet in that case there are two hindrances: that the beast is deprived of reason, and that it is the most passionate of all creatures;

but nevertheless, by the abundance of the wisdom given you by God, you master even nature.

You, then, who in the case of beasts overcome even nature, how is it that in your own case you betray, along with nature, also the nobility of your free choice? And if I had bidden another man to make himself gentle, not even so would I have seemed to enjoin things impossible;

yet in that case you might have put forward the plea that you are not master of another's will, nor does the whole matter lie in your own power.

But now it is your own beast, and one of which you are entirely master.

What defense, then, have you, and what specious pretext will you be able to put forward, when you make a lion into a man, yet overlook yourself becoming from a man a lion? and while you bestow on it things above its nature, yet do not keep for yourself even the things according to nature? but strive to bring up wild beasts to our nobility, while you overthrow yourself from the throne of royalty and thrust yourself out into their madness? For suppose, if you will, that wrath too is a beast;

and as much zeal as others show about lions, so much show about yourself, and make such a reasoning tame and gentle.

For this too has grievous teeth and claws, and unless you tame it, it will destroy everything.

For not even a lion and a viper are able so to tear the vitals asunder, as wrath, doing this continually with its iron claws.

For it not only injures the body, but corrupts also the very health of the soul, devouring, tearing to pieces,

shredding all its power, and rendering it useless for everything.

For if one, nourishing worms in his entrails, will not even be able to breathe, all his inward parts being consumed by them, how, when we have so great a serpent as this gnawing away all that is within, namely wrath, shall we be able to bring forth anything noble? How then shall we be delivered from this ruin? If we drink a draught able to deaden the worms and serpents within.

And what, one asks, might be the draught that has this power? The precious blood of Christ, if it be received with boldness of confidence;

for this will be able to quench every disease, and along with this the diligent hearing of the divine Scriptures, and almsgiving added to the hearing;

for through all these things the passions that injure our soul will be able to be put to death.

For as things now are, we are disposed no better than the dead;

since it is not possible, while those passions live, for us also to live, but we must needs perish.

And unless we make haste to slay them here, they will assuredly slay us there;

or rather, even before that death, they will demand of us here too the uttermost penalty.

For each of such passions, being both savage and tyrannical and insatiable, and devouring us every day, never comes to a stand.

For their teeth are the teeth of a lion;

or rather, even far more grievous.

For the lion, as soon as it is glutted, also withdraws from the body that has fallen in its way;

but these passions neither are filled full, nor withdraw, until they have set the captured man near the devil.

For so great is their power, that the very servitude which Paul displayed toward Christ, despising for His sake both hell and the kingdom, this same they exact even from those they have captured.

For whether one fall into the love of bodies, or of money, or of glory, he thenceforth even laughs hell to scorn, and despises the kingdom, that he may accomplish the will of these passions.

Let us not, therefore, disbelieve Paul when he says that he so loved Christ.

For when some are found so enslaved to their passions, how shall that any longer seem incredible? For it is on this account that our longing for Christ is weaker, because all our power is consumed upon this lust, and we snatch, and are covetous, and are enslaved to empty glory;

than which what could be more worthless? For though you become renowned ten thousand times over, you shall be no better than the dishonored, but for this very reason all the more dishonored.

For when those who wish to glorify you and to make you illustrious laugh at you for this very thing, that you desire the glory that comes from them, how shall not the fruits of such zeal be turned into their opposite for you?

For the matter belongs to things that are censured.

For just as one who praises and flatters him that desires to commit adultery or fornication, by this very thing becomes rather an accuser than a praiser of him that desires such things;

so also him that desires glory, when we all praise him, we are rather accusers than praisers of those who wish to be glorified.

Why then do you draw to yourself the thing from which the opposite is wont to befall you? For if you wish to be glorified, despise glory, and you shall be more illustrious than all.

Why do you suffer the very thing that Nebuchadnezzar suffered? For he too set up an image, thinking to procure for himself, from the wood and the senseless form, an addition of good report, and the living one wished to appear more illustrious than the lifeless.

Did you see the excess of his madness? For while seeming to honor himself, he rather insulted himself.

For when he appears to trust in the lifeless thing rather than in himself and in the living soul within him, and on this account brings the wood to so high a place of precedence, how should he not be worthy of laughter, hastening to adorn himself not from his character, but from planks of wood? Just as if one, on account of the bench in his house and on account of the ladder that is beautiful, should think fit to pride himself rather on these than on his being a man.

This man many now imitate even among us.

For just as he from the image, so others from garments, and others from a house, and others from mules and carriages, and from the columns in their houses, deem it fit to be admired;

having lost the being of men, they go about gathering to themselves from elsewhere a glory laden with much laughter.

But the noble and great servants of God shone forth not from these things, but from the very things whence they least should have been expected to shine.

For being captives and slaves, young and strangers, and destitute of everything belonging to their own homeland, they then appeared far more august than he who was clothed with all these splendors.

And for Nebuchadnezzar neither so great an image, nor satraps, nor generals, nor countless armies, nor a multitude of gold, nor any other display sufficed for his desire and to prove himself great;

but for these men, stripped of all such things, philosophy alone sufficed, and it showed those who possessed none of these to be more resplendent than he who wore the diadem and the purple and was clothed with such things, by as much as the sun is brighter than a pearl.

For they were led into the midst of the whole world, being young and captives and slaves; and as soon as they appeared, the king straightway darted fire from his eyes, and generals and prefects and governors and the devil's whole theater stood round about, and the sound of pipes and trumpets and every kind of music, borne up toward heaven, resounded in their ears; and the furnace was kindled to an immense height, and its flame reached the very clouds, and all was filled with terror and amazement.

But none of these things dismayed them;

rather, laughing them to scorn as at children at play, they displayed their manliness and their calm forbearance, and, sending forth a voice more resplendent than those trumpets, they said:

"Be it known unto thee, O king."

For they did not wish to insult the tyrant even so much as by a word, but only to display their piety.

Wherefore they did not stretch out long speeches, but in brief they set forth all;

for "There is," he says, "a God in heaven able to deliver us."

Why dost thou show me the multitude? Why the furnace? Why the whetted swords? Why the fearsome spearmen? Higher than all these is our Master, and mightier.

Then, considering that it might come to pass that God should will and permit them to be burned, lest, if this should happen, they should seem to have spoken falsely, they add this also, saying: "But if it be not so, be it known unto thee that we do not serve thy gods."

For if they had said that on account of their sins He does not rescue them, then even should He not rescue them, they would have been disbelieved.

For this reason, here they keep silence about this;

but they speak of it at the furnace, putting forward their sins up and down.

But before the king, nothing of the kind; only that even if they were about to be burned, they would not betray their piety.

For they did what they did not for reward or recompense, but out of love alone;

and this though they were even in captivity and in bondage, and had enjoyed nothing of good.

For indeed they had fallen away from fatherland and freedom and all that they possessed.

Do not, I pray, speak to me of the honors they had in the royal courts.

For being holy and righteous, they would ten thousand times rather have begged at home, and enjoyed the good things in the temple.

For "I have chosen," he says, "to be cast aside in the house of my God, rather than to dwell in the tents of sinners;"

and, "Better is one day in Thy courts than thousands."

Ten thousand times, therefore, would they have chosen to be cast aside at home, rather than to reign in Babylon.

And this is plain from the very things they declare even in the furnace, being burdened by their sojourn there.

For even if they themselves enjoyed much honor, when they beheld the calamities of the others they were exceedingly stung;

which is above all the peculiar mark of the saints:

to prefer neither glory, nor honor, nor anything else, above the salvation of one's neighbor.

See, then, how, being in the furnace, they made supplication on behalf of the whole people.

But we, not even when at ease, make mention of our brethren.

And when they sought out the dreams, they had regard not to their own concern, but to that of the many;

for that they despised death, they afterward showed by many proofs.

And everywhere they put themselves forward, wishing to entreat God.

Then, since they deemed even themselves insufficient, they take refuge in the fathers;

yet they said that they themselves brought nothing more than a contrite spirit.

These, then, let us also emulate.

For even now there stands a golden image, the tyranny of mammon.

But let us give no heed to the timbrels, nor to the flutes, nor to the harps, nor to the rest of wealth's display;

rather, even if it be needful to fall into the furnace of poverty, let us choose it, so as not to worship that image, and there shall be a dew whistling in the midst.

Let us not, therefore, shudder when we hear of the furnace of poverty.

For at that time also those who fell into the furnace were shown to be more resplendent, while those who worshiped were destroyed.

But then all these things happened together;

whereas now some things will be here, and others there, and others both here and in the day to come.

For those who, in order not to worship mammon, have chosen poverty, will be more resplendent both here and hereafter;

but those who grow rich here unjustly will then pay the uttermost penalty.

From this furnace also Lazarus came forth, no less resplendent than those youths;

while the rich man, in the rank of those who worshiped the image, was condemned in hell.

For indeed the things spoken of are a type of those.

As, then, in that case those who fell in suffered nothing, while those who sat outside were snatched away with great violence;

so the saints, walking through the river of fire, will suffer nothing distressing, but will even appear radiant;

but those who worshiped the image will see the fire leaping upon them, fiercer than any wild beast, and dragging them within.

So that if anyone disbelieves in hell, let him, beholding this furnace, believe from things present in things to come, and let him not fear the furnace of poverty, but the furnace of sin.

For the one is flame and anguish, but the other is dew and refreshment;

and by that furnace stands the devil, but by this one, angels shaking off the flame.

Let the rich hear these things, they who kindle the furnace of poverty.

For they will in no way harm those men, since the dew comes to them;

but they render themselves an easy prey to the flame which they have kindled with their own hands.

At that time, then, an angel descended together with those youths;

but now let us go down together with those who are in the furnace of poverty, and through almsgiving let us make a dew, and shake off the flame, that we too may become partakers of their crowns;

that the voice of Christ may also scatter the flame of hell, the voice which says:

"I saw thee hungry, and ye fed Me."

For this voice will then stand by us in place of dew, whistling through the midst of the flame.

Let us go down, therefore, with almsgiving into the furnace of poverty;