馬太福音講道集 第 53 章

And Jesus, going out from there, withdrew into the parts of Tyre and Sidon.

And behold, a woman of Canaan, coming out from those borders, cried out to Him, saying:

Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David;

my daughter is grievously vexed with a demon. (1)

But Mark says that He could not be hidden, having come into the house.

But why did He go off at all into these parts? When He had done away with the observance of foods, then also He opens a door to the Gentiles, henceforth advancing along the way;

just as, then, Peter also, having first been commanded to loose this law, was sent to Cornelius.

But if someone should say, How then, when He said to the disciples, 'Go not into the way of the Gentiles,' does He admit this woman? First we would say this, that what He commanded the disciples, to that He Himself was not also bound;

and secondly, that He did not even go there in order to preach;

which indeed Mark also, hinting at it, said, that He both hid Himself, and was not concealed. For just as not to run to them first was in the sequence of things,

so to drive away those who came to Him was unworthy of His lovingkindness.

For if it was needful to pursue those who fled, much more ought He not to flee those who pursued.

See, at any rate, how the woman is worthy of all beneficence.

For she did not even dare to come into Jerusalem, fearing and accounting herself unworthy.

For that, had this not been so, she would have come there, is plain both from her present vehemence, and from her going out of her own borders.

And some, interpreting allegorically, say that, when Christ went out from Judaea, then the Church dared to come to Him, she also having gone out from her own borders.

For 'Forget,' it says, 'thy people, and thy father's house.'

For indeed Christ went out from His borders, and the woman from her borders, and thus they were able to meet one another.

For behold, it says, a woman of Canaan, having come out from her own borders.

The evangelist brings an accusation against the woman, in order that he may display the miracle and may proclaim her the more greatly.

For indeed, when you hear that she was a Canaanite woman, call to mind those lawless nations, who overturned from their very foundations even the laws of nature.

And having called them to mind, consider also the power of Christ's coming.

For those who had been cast out, lest they should pervert the Jews, these very people proved themselves so much more fit than the Jews that they even went out beyond their own borders and drew near to Christ, while the Jews were driving Him away even as He came to them.

Having therefore come near, she says nothing else but, 「Have mercy on me,」 and by her crying out she draws a great crowd about her as onlookers.

For indeed it was a piteous sight, to behold a woman crying out with such deep feeling—and a woman who was a mother, and pleading on behalf of a daughter, and a daughter so grievously afflicted.

For she did not even dare to bring the demon-possessed girl into the sight of the Teacher;

but leaving her to lie at home, she herself makes the supplication.

And she tells only the affliction, and adds nothing more, nor does she drag the Physician into her house, as that nobleman did, saying,

「Come and lay Your hand,」 and, 「Come down before my child dies.」

But she, having recounted the calamity and the severity of the disease, puts forward the mercy of the Master, and cries out with a loud voice,

and she does not say, 「Have mercy on my daughter,」 but, 「Have mercy on me.」

「For she is insensible of her disease;

but it is I who am suffering countless dreadful things, I who am sick with full awareness, I who—

am driven to madness while yet in my right mind.」

「But He answered her not a word.」

What is this strange and unexpected thing? The Jews, though ungrateful, He leads onward; those who blaspheme, He exhorts; and those who tempt Him, He does not let go;

yet this woman, running to Him and beseeching and imploring, though nurtured neither in the Law nor in the Prophets, and showing forth such great reverence—her He does not even deem worthy of an answer.

Whom would this not have offended, seeing what happened to be contrary to His reputation? For indeed they had heard that He went about the villages healing;

yet this woman, when she came, He repels.

And whom would the affliction and the supplication not have moved to compassion, which she made on behalf of a daughter so grievously afflicted? For she came neither as one who was worthy, nor as one demanding a debt owed; but she begged to be shown mercy, and merely lamented her own calamity as a tragedy—and yet she is not even deemed worthy of an answer.

Perhaps many of those who heard were offended;

but she was not offended.

And why do I speak of those who heard?

For indeed I think that even the disciples themselves felt something at the woman's calamity, and were troubled and grieved.

Yet nevertheless, though troubled, they did not dare to say;

but, 「The disciples came and asked Him, saying,

Send her away, for she cries out after us.」

For we too, when we wish to persuade someone, often say the very opposite.

「I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.」

What then did the woman do, when she heard these things? Did she keep silence and withdraw? Or did she give up her earnestness? By no means;

but as for us, whenever we do not obtain our request, we withdraw, though on this very account we ought rather to press on the more.

And yet whom would that word, then spoken, not have driven to despair? Indeed, even the silence was enough to cast her into hopelessness;

but the answer did so all the more.

For to see even those who were her advocates rendered helpless together with herself, and to hear that the very thing was impossible to be done, cast her into unspeakable perplexity.

But nevertheless the woman was not at a loss;

but when she saw that her patrons availed nothing, she put on a noble shamelessness.

For before this she did not even dare to come into His sight;

for 「She cries out,」 it says, 「after us;」

but when it was likely that she, being in perplexity, would go even farther off, then she comes even nearer, and worships, saying,

What is this, O woman? Surely you do not have greater boldness than the apostles? Surely you do not have more strength? 'Boldness and strength,' she says, 'by no means; on the contrary, I am even full of shame;

but nonetheless I put forward this very shamelessness in place of a suppliant's plea. He will be moved to respect my boldness.

And what is this? Did you not hear Him saying, 'I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel'? 'I heard,' she says, 'but He Himself is Lord.'

For this reason she did not even say, 'Entreat and beseech';

What then does Christ do? He was not content even with this, but heightened her perplexity, saying again:

'It is not good to take the children's bread and give it to the little dogs.'

And when He deemed her worthy of a word, then He rebuked her more severely than by His silence.

And He no longer transfers the reason to another matter, nor does He say, 'I was not sent';

but by however much she intensified her supplication, by just so much did He Himself intensify His refusal.

And He no longer calls them sheep, but children, and her a little dog.

What then does the woman do? From His very own words she weaves her defense.

'For if I am a little dog,' she says, 'I am no stranger.'

Rightly did Christ say:

The woman plays the philosopher, and displays all endurance and faith, and this while being insulted;

but those men, though cared for and honored, repaid Him with the opposite.

'That the food is necessary for the children,' she says, 'I too know;

yet not even I am shut out, though I am a little dog.'

'For if it were not lawful to take at all, then neither would it be lawful to share in the crumbs;

but if one ought to share even in a little, then not even I am shut out, though I be a little dog;

rather, in this very way I most of all have a share, if I am a little dog.'

For these reasons Christ deferred;

for these reasons He kept refusing the gift, that He might display her wisdom.

For if He had not been about to give, He would not afterward

have given, nor would He have silenced her again;

but it was as He does in the case of the centurion, saying:

'I will come and heal him,' that we might learn that man's reverence, and hear him saying:

'I am not worthy that You should come under my roof';

and as He does in the case of the woman with the flow of blood, saying:

'I know that power has gone out from Me,' that He might make her faith manifest;

and as in the case of the Samaritan woman, that He might show how she did not withdraw even when reproved;

for He did not wish so great a virtue of a woman to be hidden.

So that what He said was not the mark of one insulting, but of one drawing forth, and uncovering the treasure laid up within.

But do you, along with her faith, observe also her humility.

For He indeed called the Jews children;

but she was not content with this, but even named them lords;

so far was she from being grieved at the praises given to others.

'For even the little dogs,' she says, 'eat of the crumbs that fall from their masters' table.'

Do you see the woman's understanding, how she did not dare even to contradict, nor was stung by the praises given to others, nor was indignant at the insult? Do you see her firmness? He said, 'It is not good';

but she said, 'Yes, Lord';

He called them children, but she called them lords;

He called her a little dog, but she went on to add the very work of the little dog.

Do you see this woman's humility? Now hear the boastful speech of the Jews.

'We are Abraham's seed, and were never in bondage to anyone.'

And again, 'We have been born of God.'

But not so this woman; rather, she calls herself a little dog, and calls those others masters.

And for this very reason she became a child.

What then does Christ say? 'O woman, great is your faith.'

For it was on this account that He deferred, that He might call forth this word, that He might crown the woman.

And what He says is of this sort:

'Your faith is indeed able to accomplish even greater things than these;

nevertheless, be it done to you as you desire.'

This word is akin to that voice which said,

'Let the heaven come to be,' and it came to be.

'And her daughter was healed from that hour.'

Do you see how she too contributed no small thing to her daughter's healing? For this reason Christ did not say, 'Let your daughter be healed,'

but rather, 'Great is your faith; be it done to you as you desire';

that you may learn that these words were not spoken idly nor by way of flattery, but that great is the power of faith.

At any rate, He entrusted the exact testing and demonstration of her faith to the outcome of the events.

Her daughter, then, was healed straightway.

But consider for me how, when the apostles had been worsted and had accomplished nothing, this woman prevailed.

So great a thing is perseverance in prayer.

For indeed He wills rather to be entreated by us on behalf of our own concerns, guilty though we are, than by others on our behalf.

And yet those men had greater boldness of access;

but this woman displayed great steadfastness.

And through the outcome He both made His defense to the disciples concerning the delay, and showed that it was justly that He did not yield when they made their request.

'And Jesus, departing from there, came beside the sea of Galilee;

and having gone up onto the mountain, He sat down there.'

'And great crowds came to Him, having with them the lame, the blind, the maimed, the deaf,

and they cast them down at His feet;

and He healed them, so that the crowds marveled, seeing the deaf speaking, the maimed made whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing;

and they glorified the God of Israel.'

At one time He goes about, at another He sits waiting for the afflicted, and leads even the lame up onto the mountain.

And no longer do they so much as touch His garment, but they mount up to the higher place, being cast down at His feet;

and they displayed their faith in twofold measure, both by going up onto the mountain while lame, and by needing nothing else but only to be cast down at His feet.

And great and marvelous was the wonder, to see those who had been carried now walking, and the maimed no longer needing any to lead them by the hand.

For indeed both the multitude of those being healed and the ease of the healing astounded them.

Do you see how He healed the woman with so much delay, but these straightway? Not because these were better than she, but because

for this reason in her case He defers and delays, displaying her firmness of purpose;

but to these He grants the gift straightway, stopping the mouths of the unbelieving Jews, and cutting off every excuse of theirs.

For the greater the benefit anyone receives, the more liable he is to punishment if he proves ungrateful and is not made better even by the honor. For this very reason the rich too are punished more than the poor when they are wicked, because not even amid abundance did they become gentle.

For do not tell me that they gave alms.

For if they did not give in proportion to the worth of their substance, not even so will they escape.

For almsgiving is not judged by the measure of what is given, but by the liberality of the disposition.

But if these pay the penalty, much more will those who are agitated over superfluous things—those who build three-storeyed and four-storeyed houses, yet despise the hungry; those who are careful about covetousness, but careless about almsgiving.

But since the discourse has fallen upon almsgiving, come then, let us today take up again that discourse which, three days ago, I made concerning kindness to mankind but left unfinished.

You remember, when the other day I was discoursing about extravagance in footwear, and about that vain toil, and the effeminacy of the young men—then it was that our discourse, starting from almsgiving, fell aside into those charges.

What then were the matters set in motion at that time? That almsgiving is a certain art, having its workshop in heaven, and for its teacher not a man but God.

Then, while inquiring what is an art and what is not an art, we fell into the matter of vain toils and mischievous crafts, among which we also made mention of this craft of the shoemakers.

Do you then recall it? Come then, today also let us take up again what was said at that time, and let us show how almsgiving is an art, and better than all arts.

For if it is proper to an art to terminate in something useful, and nothing is more useful than almsgiving, it is quite plain that this is both an art and better than all arts.

For it does not make shoes for us, nor weave garments, nor build houses of clay;

but it procures eternal life, and snatches us from the hands of death, and makes us splendid in each of the two lives, and builds the mansions that are in the heavens, and those eternal tabernacles.

This it is that does not permit our lamps to be quenched, nor us to appear at the wedding with soiled garments, but it washes them and makes them cleaner than snow.

For 'Though your sins be as scarlet, I will make them white as snow.' It does not permit us to fall where that rich man fell, nor even to hear those fearful words, but leads us by the hand into the bosom of Abraham.

And yet of the arts that serve this life, each one when taken by itself has but a single accomplishment;

as, for instance, farming, to nourish; weaving, to clothe;

for neither does one alone suffice to contribute for us the things that come from itself.

And if you please, let us examine farming first.

For unless it has the smith's art, so as to borrow from it a mattock and a ploughshare and a sickle and an axe, and many more things besides;

and the carpenter's art, so as to fix a plough, and to fashion a yoke, and a wagon for threshing the ears of grain;

and the leather-worker's art, so as to make a strap;

and the builder's art, so as to build a stall for the ploughing oxen, and houses for the sowing husbandmen;

and the wood-cutter's art, so as to hew timber;

and the baker's art after all these—then it appears nowhere.

So too weaving, whenever it makes anything, calls many arts along with itself, so that they may lay hold with it of the tasks set before it;

and unless these come and lend a hand, it too stands, like that one, at a loss.

And each of the arts stands in need of another.

But whenever we must show mercy, we need nothing else, but need only the disposition.

And if you should say that it needs money, and dwellings, and garments, and shoes, read those words of Christ which He spoke concerning the widow, and cease from this anxiety;

for even if you are exceedingly poor, and one of the beggars, if you cast in two mites, you have accomplished the whole;

and if you give a barley-cake, having this only, you have come to the perfection of the art.

let us gain this knowledge, and set it in good practice.

For indeed it is better to know this than to be a king and to wear a diadem.

For this is not its only advantage, that it needs no other arts, but it is also effective in manifold matters, in many and all sorts.

For it both builds the houses that abide forever in the heavens, and teaches those who have practiced it aright how they may escape the immortal death;

and it bestows on you treasures that are never spent, but escape every harm—both that from robbers, and that from worms, and that from moths, and that from time.

And yet if someone had taught you only this for the keeping of wheat, what would you not have given, so as to be able to preserve your grain unspoiled for many years? But behold, this teaches you not for wheat only, but for all things, and shows how both your possessions and your soul and your body may remain unspoiled.

And what need is there to tell in detail all the achievements of this art? For this teaches you how you may become like God, which is the sum of all good things.

Do you see how its work is not one, but many? Without needing any other art, it builds houses, it weaves garments,

it prepares treasures that cannot be spent, it makes us prevail over death, master the devil, and it renders us like unto God.

What, then, could be more useful than this art? For the other arts, together with what has been said, are dissolved along with the present life, and when the craftsmen fall sick they are nowhere to be seen; they cannot preserve their own works, they require toil and much time and countless other things besides;

but this art, when the world passes away, then most of all shines forth;

when we die, then most of all does it shine bright and display the works it has wrought;

and it requires neither time, nor toil, nor any other such labour, but it works even while you are sick, and when you have grown old, and it journeys with you to the life to come, and never forsakes you.

This art makes you mightier than sophists and orators.

For those who win renown in those other arts have many who envy them;

but those who shine in this art have countless multitudes who pray for them.

And those others stand before the tribunal of men, pleading for those who are wronged, but often also for those who do wrong; whereas this art stands before the tribunal of Christ, not only pleading, but even persuading the very Judge to plead for the one on trial and to cast His vote in his favour;

and though he have sinned ten thousand times, it both crowns him and proclaims him aloud.

"For give alms," it says, "and all things shall be clean unto you."

And why do I speak of things to come? For even in the present life, if we were to ask men which they would rather be, many sophists and orators, or merciful and loving toward mankind, you will hear them choosing the latter.

For if eloquence be taken away, life will suffer no harm;

for indeed even before this art existed, life had held together for a long time;

but if you take away showing mercy, all things perish and are lost.

And just as it is not possible to sail the sea when the harbours and havens have been silted up, so neither can this life hold together if you take away mercy and forgiveness and kindness toward mankind.

For this reason God did not entrust these things to reason alone, but sowed many portions of it also into the sovereign power of nature.

Thus fathers show mercy to their children, thus mothers, thus children to their parents;

and this not among men only, but also among all the irrational creatures;

thus brothers show mercy to brothers, and kinsfolk, and those who are near of kin.

For we have something even from nature that inclines us toward mercy.

Therefore we are indignant on behalf of those who are wronged, and when we see men being slaughtered we are moved with compassion, and when we behold mourners we weep.

For since God greatly desires this to be rightly done, He commanded nature to contribute much toward it, showing that this is a thing exceedingly earnest to Him.

Considering these things, then, let us lead both ourselves and our children and our kinsfolk into the school of almsgiving, and let man learn this before all else, since this too is what makes a man;

so that whoever does not possess this has fallen away even from being a man.

And why do you marvel that this makes a man? This is God's own.

"For be ye," He says, "merciful, as your Father."

Let us therefore learn to be merciful for all reasons;

but most of all, because we too stand in great need of mercy.

And let us not count ourselves even to be alive at that time when we show no mercy.

But by almsgiving I mean that which is pure from covetousness.

For if he who is content with his own and gives to no one is not merciful,

how can he who takes what belongs to others be merciful, even though he give ten thousand times? For if to enjoy merely one's own possessions is inhumanity, much more is it so to deprive others.

If those who have wronged no one are punished because they did not give a share, much more shall those be punished who even take what belongs to others.

Do not, then, say this: that one man is wronged, and another is shown mercy.

For this is the very dreadful thing: the man who is wronged ought himself to be the one who is shown mercy;

but as it is, you wound one set of men and then tend others whom you did not wound, when you ought to be tending those very people;

or rather, you ought not to wound at all.

For he is loving toward mankind, not who both strikes and heals, but who heals those who have been struck by others.

Heal, then, your own evils, not another's;

or rather, neither strike nor cast down (for this is the part of one who is toying), but raise up those who have been cast down.

For it is not even possible to cure the evil that springs from covetousness with an equal measure of almsgiving.

For if you have grasped by covetousness a single obol, you do not need an obol again for almsgiving in order to take away the sore that comes from covetousness, but a whole talent.

For this reason the thief, when caught, pays back fourfold;

but the one who plunders is worse than the thief.

And if the thief must give back fourfold what he stole, the plunderer must give tenfold and far more;

and one may be thankful even to be able in this way to make atonement for the injustice;

for not even then will he receive the fruit of almsgiving.

For this reason Zacchaeus says, 'I will restore fourfold whatever I have taken by false accusation, and I will give half of my possessions to the poor.'

But if under the Law one had to give back fourfold, how much more under grace;

if this applied to the thief, how much more to the plunderer.

For here, along with the loss, there is also great insolence.

So that even if you give back a hundredfold, you have not yet given the whole.

Do you see how I was not speaking in vain, when I said, 'Even if you seize an obol and pay back a talent, scarcely even so do you effect a cure'? And if, in doing this, you scarcely do so;

when you reverse the order, and plunder whole estates but bestow only a little, and not even upon those who were wronged, but upon others in their place, what defense will you have? What pardon? What hope of salvation? Do you wish to learn how great an evil you work by showing mercy in this way? Listen to the Scripture, which says:

'As one who slays the son before his father's eyes, so is he who offers a sacrifice from the goods of the poor.'

Having therefore engraved this threat upon our mind, let us depart;

let us have it upon our walls, upon our hands, in our conscience, everywhere;

so that at least this fear, being vigorous in our mind, may restrain our hands from daily murders.

For plundering is more grievous than murder, consuming the poor man little by little.

In order, then, that we may be pure from this defilement, let us practice these things both toward ourselves and toward one another.

For thus we shall be more ready for mercy, and shall receive pure rewards for it, and shall enjoy the eternal good things, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and might, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto the ages of ages.