馬太福音講道集 第 59 章

And while they were abiding in Galilee, Jesus said to them:

The Son of Man is about to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill Him, and on the third day He will rise again.

For lest they should say, Why do we tarry here continually? He speaks to them again concerning His passion;

which, when they heard, they did not even wish to look upon Jerusalem.

Observe, then, how—even though Peter had been rebuked, and Moses and Elijah had conversed with Him about it and had called the matter His glory, and the Father had sent forth a voice from above, and so many signs had come to pass, and the resurrection was at the very doors—

(for He said He would not remain long in death, but would rise again on the third day)—not even so did they take it well, but they were grieved;

and not simply so, but exceedingly.

Now this came to pass because they still did not understand the meaning of the things that were spoken.

Which very thing Mark and Luke, hinting at it, declared;

The one says, 'They understood not that saying, and were afraid to ask Him';

the other says, 'It was hidden from them, that they should not perceive it, and they feared to ask Him concerning that saying.'

And yet, if they did not understand, how were they grieved? Because they did not fail to understand everything;

rather, that He would die they knew, since they heard it continually;

but what manner of death this was, and that it would swiftly be undone and work ten thousand good things—this they did not yet clearly know;

nor yet what this resurrection was;

for indeed they clung exceedingly to their Teacher.

'And when they had come to Capernaum, they that received the didrachma came to Peter, and said,

Does not your Teacher pay the didrachma?' And what were these didrachma? When God slew the firstborn of the Egyptians, then He took the tribe of Levi in their stead;

then, since the number of that tribe was less than the number of the firstborn among the Jews, in place of those lacking to make up the number He commanded a shekel to be brought in;

and in another way too, from that time forward a custom prevailed, that the firstborn should bring in this tribute.

Since therefore Christ was a firstborn, and Peter seemed to be first among the disciples, they come to him.

For, as it seems to me at least, they were exacting the tax in each city;

wherefore also they came to Him in His own country, since Capernaum was reckoned to be His native city.

And Him indeed they did not dare to approach, but Peter;

and not even him with much vehemence, but rather with moderation.

For not as accusing, but as inquiring, they said,

'Does not your Teacher pay the didrachma?' For as yet they had not the fitting estimate concerning Him, but were disposed toward Him as toward a mere man;

yet they rendered Him a certain reverence and honor, because of the signs that had gone before.

What then does Peter say? 'Yes,' he says;

and to them indeed he said that He pays it;

but to Him he did not speak, perhaps blushing to converse with Him about these matters.

Wherefore the gentle One, who knew all things clearly, anticipating him, says,

'What thinkest thou, Simon? The kings of the earth, of whom do they take tribute or tax? Of their own sons, or of strangers?' And when he had said, 'Of strangers,' He said,

'Then are the sons free.'

For lest Peter should suppose that He was speaking from having heard it from them, He anticipates him, both showing this very thing, and giving him confidence, since he had hesitated to speak of these matters first.

Now what He says is of this sort:

'I am free from paying the tax.'

For if the kings of the earth take not from their own sons, but from

others—much more must I be exempt from this exaction, being the Son and King not of an earthly king, but of the King of the heavens.

Seest thou how He distinguished the sons from those who are not sons? And if He were not a Son, then in vain did He bring forward the example of the kings.

'Yes,' says one, 'a Son, but not a genuine one.'

But if not a Son, then neither genuine, nor His own, but an alien;

and if an alien, then neither does the example possess its proper force.

For He is discoursing not about sons simply, but about the genuine and true ones, and those who share with their begetters in the kingdom.

Wherefore also, by way of contrast, He set down the aliens, calling aliens those not begotten of them;

but their own, those whom they had begotten of themselves.

But do thou consider this also with me, how He confirms even from hence the knowledge that had been revealed to Peter.

And He did not even stop here, but through His condescension He makes plain this very thing, which was a mark of much wisdom.

For indeed, having said these things, He says,

'But that we may not cause them to stumble, go to the sea and cast a hook, and take up the first fish that comes up, and you will find in it a stater.'

'Take that, and give it to them for me and for you.'

Observe how He neither refuses the tribute, nor simply commands that it be given, but first having shown that He was not liable to it, then He gives it;

the one thing, that those men might not be caused to stumble;

For neither does He give it as one who owes it, but as one setting right their weakness.

Elsewhere, however, He makes light of the stumbling, when He was discoursing about foods;

teaching us to know the occasions on which we must have regard for those who are made to stumble, and those on which we must make light of it.

And by the very manner of the giving He again shows Himself.

For why does He not command it to be given out of stored-up funds? In order that, as I said, in this also He might show Himself to be God of all things, and that He rules even over the sea.

For indeed He had shown this already, both when He rebuked the sea, and when He commanded this same Peter to walk upon the waves;

and now too He shows this very same thing, though in another manner, affording much astonishment in this also.

For it was no small thing, from those depths, to foretell that the fish which was to pay the tribute would fall in first, and, as though casting His command like a net into that abyss, to bring up the one carrying the stater;

but it was of divine and ineffable power, both to make the sea thus bring gifts, and on every side to display its subjection, both when in its raging it fell silent, and when in its wildness it received His fellow-servant, and now again, when for His sake it makes settlement with those who demand it.

'And give it to them,' He says, 'for me and for you.'

Did you see the surpassing greatness of the honor? Behold also the wisdom of Peter's disposition.

For Mark, who was this man's disciple, does not appear to have written down this chapter, since it displayed the great honor shown toward him;

but while he himself also wrote of the denial, he passed over in silence the things that made him illustrious, perhaps because his Teacher deprecated the telling of great things about himself.

'For me and for you,' He said, since he too was a firstborn.

And just as you were amazed at Christ's power, so also marvel at the disciple's faith, that in a matter so impossible he thus obeyed.

For indeed it was exceedingly impossible according to nature.

Wherefore also, requiting him for his faith, He joined him to Himself in the payment of the tribute.

'At that hour the disciples came to Jesus, saying,'

'Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?' The disciples experienced something human;

wherefore also the evangelist indicates it, saying, 'At that hour;'

that is, when He had preferred him above all.

For indeed one of the two, James or John, was also a firstborn, yet He did nothing of the kind on their behalf.

Then, being ashamed to confess the feeling they had experienced, they do not say openly, 'Why did You prefer Peter above us?' and, 'Is this man greater than we?' for they were ashamed;

'Who then is greatest?' For when they saw the three preferred, they experienced nothing of the kind;

but when the honor came to rest upon the one, then they were grieved.

And not this only, but also many other things

gathering together, kindled the passion.

and, 'Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah;'

and here, 'Give it to them for me and for you;'

and seeing his other great boldness of speech, they were provoked.

But if Mark says that they did not ask, but were reasoning among themselves, this is in no way contrary to the other account.

For it is likely that they did both this and that, and that earlier, on another occasion, they experienced this, once and again, but then both spoke it out and reasoned about it among themselves.

But do not you regard the accusation alone, but consider this also;

first, that they seek none of the things of this world;

and then, that afterwards they put away this passion also, and yield the first places to one another.

But we are not even able to attain to their shortcomings, nor do we seek who is greater in the kingdom of heaven, but who is greater in the kingdom of the earth, who is more wealthy, who is more powerful.

What then does Christ do? He uncovers their conscience, and answers to the passion that moved them, not merely to their words.

For having called a little child to Him, it says, He said:

Unless you turn and become as this little child, you shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.

For you, He says, are inquiring who is the greater, and are contending about the first places;

but I declare that whoever does not become more lowly than all is not even worthy of the entrance into that place.

And well does He also bring forward the example;

and He does not merely bring it forward, but also sets the little child in the midst, putting them to shame by the very sight, and persuading them to be lowly and unfeigned in this way.

For the little child is pure from envy, and from vainglory, and from the craving after the first places;

and it possesses the greatest virtue, namely simplicity and guilelessness and lowliness.

Not manliness then alone is needful, nor prudence, but also this virtue, I mean humility and simplicity.

For indeed, even in the greatest matters the concerns of our salvation go lame when these are not present with us.

The little child, whether it be insulted, or beaten, or honored, or glorified, neither is vexed and envious on the one account, nor is lifted up on the other.

Do you see how again He calls us forth to the achievements that are according to nature, showing that it is possible to accomplish these things by our own choice, and how He muzzles the wicked madness of the Manichaeans? For if nature is evil, why does He draw the examples of virtue from thence? But it seems to me that He set in the midst a little child that was truly a little child, free from all these passions.

For such a little child is delivered from madness, and from the frenzy for glory, and from envy, and from contentiousness, and from all such passions; and though it has many virtues—simplicity, humility, freedom from meddling—it is not lifted up on account of any of these;

which is a matter of twofold virtue, both to possess these things, and not to be puffed up over them.

For this reason He brought it forward, and set it in the midst;

and He did not shut up His discourse at this point only, but carries this exhortation yet further, saying:

And whoever shall receive such a little child in My name receives Me.

For not only, He says, if you yourselves become such, shall you receive a great reward;

but even if you honor others who are such for My sake, I appoint the kingdom as the recompense of the honor shown to them.

Or rather, He sets down that which is far greater, saying, He receives Me.

So exceedingly desirable to Me is that which is lowly and unfeigned.

For here by a little child He means the men who are thus simple and lowly, and cast aside by the many, and easily despised.

Then, making His word yet more readily received, He establishes it not from the honor alone, but also from the punishment, adding and saying:

And whoever shall cause one of these little ones to stumble, it were profitable for him that a great millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were sunk in the depth of the sea.

For just as those who honor these for My sake, He says, have heaven—nay rather, an honor greater than the kingdom itself;

so also those who dishonor them (for this is what causing to stumble means) shall pay the uttermost penalty.

But if He calls the insult a cause of stumbling, do not wonder;

for the fainthearted have been made to stumble in no ordinary degree by being overlooked and insulted.

Therefore, heightening and magnifying the charge, He sets forth the harm that comes from it.

And no longer does He indicate the punishment from the same things, but shows its unbearableness from things familiar to us.

For whenever He especially desires to lay hold of the grosser sort, He brings forward examples perceptible to sense.

Wherefore here also, wishing to show that they shall undergo great punishment, and to reach the senseless madness of those who spurn them, He brought into the midst a sensible chastisement, that of the millstone and the drowning.

And yet it would have been consistent with what went before to say:

He that does not receive one of these little ones does not receive Me;

which would have been more bitter than any punishment;

but since, for the exceedingly senseless and gross, this—though it be a fearful thing—did not so reach them, He sets down the millstone and the drowning.

And He did not say that a millstone shall be hanged about his neck;

but, It is profitable for him to undergo this, showing that another evil more grievous than this awaits him;

and if this is unbearable, much more is that other.

Do you see how from both sides He made the threat fearful, on the one hand rendering it clearer by comparison with a familiar example, and on the other, by the surpassing greatness that follows, causing it to be imagined as far greater than what is seen? Do you see how He tore up by the very roots the mindset of pride? how He healed the ulcer of vainglory? how He taught men nowhere to be in love with the first places? how He persuaded those who long for the first places everywhere to pursue the lowest rank? For nothing is worse than pride.

This very thing drives men out of their natural senses, and clothes fools with the appearance of glory;

or rather, it makes them exceedingly senseless.

For just as if a man, being three cubits tall, should strain to be higher than the mountains, or even should suppose himself to be so, and should stretch himself up as though overtopping their summits, we shall seek no other proof of his folly;

so also, whenever you see a man puffed up with pride, and reckoning himself better than all men, and counting it an insult to live among the multitude, seek no longer any other proof to behold of that man's madness.

For such a man is far more ridiculous than those who are fools by nature, inasmuch as he himself willingly fashions this disease.

And not only in this is he wretched, but also because he falls without any sense of pain into that very pit of wickedness.

For when will such a man recognize his sin as he ought? when will he perceive that he is doing wrong? For the devil, having taken him like an evil and captive slave, goes off, and drags and carries him about, buffeting him on every side and casting him into countless outrages.

For it leads them on to such folly, as to persuade them even to be high-minded against their own children and wives, and against their own forefathers.

But others, on the contrary, it prepares to be inflated because of the distinction of their forefathers;

than which what could be more senseless, when from opposite causes they are alike inflamed—these because they had mean fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers, and those because they had illustrious and distinguished ones? How then might one abase the swelling of either? Toward the former, by saying:

Go up further beyond your grandfathers and great-grandfathers, and you will perhaps find many cooks, and donkey-drivers, and hucksters;

but toward these, those who are puffed up because of the meanness of their forefathers, the contrary again, that: You too, going up higher than your forefathers, will see many far more illustrious than yourself.

That nature indeed runs this course, come, let me prove it to you also from the Scriptures.

Solomon was a king's son, and the son of an illustrious king;

but this man's father was of mean and obscure stock, and his grandfather on the mother's side likewise;

for otherwise he would not have given his daughter to a mere common soldier.

But if you should go up higher again from these mean folk, you will see the lineage more illustrious and more kingly.

So also in the case of Saul, so too in the case of many others, one might find this coming to pass.

Let us not then be high-minded on this account.

For what is high birth? tell me.

Nothing, but only a name empty of any real substance;

and this you will know in that day.

But since that day is not yet come, come, let us persuade you also from things present,

that there is no superiority from this source.

For should war come upon us, or famine, or anything else whatever, all these inflated pretensions of noble birth are put to the proof and exposed;

and if disease come on, or pestilence, it knows not how to distinguish the rich man from the poor, the honored from the dishonored, the well-born from him who is not such;

neither does death, nor the other changes of affairs, but all things rise up alike against all;

and, if one must say something marvelous, against the rich rather.

For by how much they are unpracticed in these hardships, by so much the more, when caught, do they perish.

And fear also is greater among the rich.

For these especially tremble before rulers, and before the populace no less than before the rulers, but even far more;

at any rate, many such houses have been overturned alike both by the wrath of the populace and by the threat of rulers.

But the poor man is delivered from both these billows.

So then, setting aside this kind of nobility, if you wish to show me that you are well-born, show me the freedom of your soul, such as that blessed man possessed—and that though he was poor—who said to Herod:

It is not lawful for you to have the wife of Philip your brother;

such freedom as he possessed who was of like sort before that man and of like sort after him, who said to Ahab:

It is not I who trouble Israel, but you and your father's house;

such freedom as the prophets had, such as all the apostles had.

But the souls of those who are slaves to wealth are not such; rather, like men who are under countless tutors and executioners, so they dare not even lift up their eye, nor speak boldly on behalf of virtue.

For the love of money, and the love of glory, and the love of all other such things, when they are seen to be terrifying to those who pursue them, make men slavish and flatterers.

For nothing so destroys freedom as to be entangled in the affairs of this life, and to be clothed about with the things that seem to be splendid.

For such a man has not one master, nor two or three, but ten thousand.

And if you please, let us even number these masters. Let us bring forward some one of those held in high repute at court; let him have wealth in abundance, and great power, and a distinguished country, and the illustriousness of ancestors, and let him be looked up to by all.

Let us then see whether this man is not of all men the most enslaved;

and let us set against him, not a slave simply, but a slave of a slave;

for many household servants also have slaves of their own.

This slave of the slave, then, has one master.

For what does it matter that he is not free? Yet he has but one master, and looks only to what seems good to that one.

For even if this man's master seems to rule over him, yet for the present he must obey one only;

and if his relations toward that one are well ordered, he will pass his whole life in security.

But this other man has not one master or two only, but many, and more grievous ones.

And first he is anxious about the emperor himself.

But it is not the same thing to have a lowly master, and an emperor whose ears are dinned by many, and who is at one time swayed by these, at another by those.

This man, even if he is conscious of no wrong in himself, suspects all: those who serve alongside him in the army, those set under his command, his friends, and his enemies.

But this man too, one might say, has his master.

And how is it the same thing to have one master and to have many who make him tremble? Nay rather, if one were to examine the matter closely, he will not find even one master.

How, and in what way? That first slave has no one who desires to cast him out of this servitude and to install himself in it, and therefore in this respect he has no one plotting against him;

but these others have no other aim than to unsettle the man who is more highly esteemed and more beloved by the ruler.

Wherefore he is compelled to flatter all: those greater than himself, those of equal rank, his friends.

For where there is envy and the love of glory, there not even the strength of sincere friendship has any force.

For just as those of the same trade cannot love one another exactly and genuinely, so neither can those of equal rank who covet the same things in the affairs of this life.

Whence also the warfare within is great.

You have seen a swarm of masters, and of grievous masters. Would you have me show you yet another master more grievous than this? All those below him strive to get ahead of him; those above him strive to prevent him coming near and outstripping them.

I promised to show you masters, but our discourse, as it went forward and pressed on, accomplished more than the promise, showing them to be enemies instead of masters; nay rather, showing the same men to be both enemies and masters.

For they are courted as masters, but are dreaded as enemies, and they plot against him as foes.

When therefore a man has the same persons both as lords and as enemies, what could be worse than this calamity? The slave, even if he is commanded, yet nevertheless enjoys care and goodwill from those who give the orders;

but these men are both commanded, and warred against, and are set one against another;

and this is worse than the conflicts in battle by as much as they stab in secret, and under the mask of friends carry out the deeds of enemies, and often win repute out of the misfortunes of others.

But our affairs are not of this kind;

but even if another fares ill, there are many who share his pain;

and if he is well esteemed, there are many who rejoice with him.

For 'whether one member suffers,' it says, 'all the members suffer with it;'

'or whether one member is glorified, all the members rejoice with it.'

And now he who gave this exhortation said:

'What is my hope or joy? Is it not even you?' And again: 'For now we live, if you stand fast in the Lord.'

And again: 'Out of much affliction and anguish of heart I wrote to you.'

And: 'Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is made to stumble, and I am not inflamed?' Why then do we still endure this tempest and the waves that come from without, and do not run to this calm harbor, and, letting go the names of good things, walk on to the very realities themselves? For glory and power and wealth and repute and all such things are, with those men, mere names, but with us realities;

just as, on the other hand, the painful things—death and dishonor and poverty and all such—are with us mere names, but with those men realities.

And if you please, let us first bring glory into the midst—that glory which is loved and longed for by all those men.

And I do not say merely that it is short-lived, nor that it is quickly quenched;

but even while it is in full bloom, show it to me then.

Do not strip from the harlot her paints and her cosmetic outlines, but bring her forth into our midst all adorned and display her to us, that even then I may expose her ugliness.

Well then, you will surely speak of the outward show, and the crowd of lictors, and the herald's voice, and the obedience of the populace, and the silence of the many, and how all who meet him are beaten, and how he is gazed upon by everyone.

Are not these the splendid things? Come then, let us examine whether these are not superfluous, and a mere useless fancy.

For in what respect is that man made better by these things—in body or in soul? For this is what a man is.

Will he thereby be taller, or stronger, or healthier, or swifter, or will he acquire sharper and clearer senses? But no one could say this.

Let us go on, then, to the soul, in case we may find some gain accruing to it there from these things.

What then? Will such a man become more temperate, more reasonable, more prudent as a result of this attendance? By no means, but altogether the opposite.

For what happens in the case of the body does not happen here as well.

For there the body gains nothing toward its own proper excellence;

but here the terrible thing is not only that the soul reaps nothing good, but that it even receives much vice from these things.

For thereby it is carried away into arrogance, and vainglory, and folly, and into wrath, and into countless such defects.

But he rejoices, one says, and delights in these things, and is made cheerful by them.

You have named to me the very crown of the evils, and that which makes the disease incurable.

For he who rejoices in these things would not readily even wish to be delivered from the ground of the evils, but by his pleasure has walled off from himself the road to healing.

So that this is precisely the terrible thing, that he does not even feel pain, but actually rejoices, while his diseases are increasing upon him.

For to rejoice is not in every case a good thing;

since thieves also rejoice when they steal, and the adulterer when he corrupts his neighbor's marriage, and the covetous man when he seizes plunder, and the murderer when he slays.

Let us not therefore look at whether he rejoices, but whether it be over something profitable;

and let us consider carefully, in case we should find such a joy as is

that of the adulterer and the thief.

For on what account, tell me, does he rejoice? Because of the reputation he has from the many, and the power to give himself airs and to be gazed at all around? And what could be more wicked than this desire and this absurd passion? But if it is not wicked, then cease mocking the vainglorious and washing them with countless jeers;

cease invoking curses upon the reckless and the contemptuous.

Surely then these men too are deserving of countless accusations, even though they have countless lictors.

And these things I have said concerning the more tolerable of the rulers, since we shall find the greater part of them sinning more grievously than robbers, and murderers, and adulterers, and grave-robbers, because of their not using their office rightly.

For indeed they steal more shamelessly than those men, and slaughter more brazenly, and give themselves to licentiousness far more lawlessly, and they break in—not through a single wall, but into countless estates and houses—having great facility for it from their authority.

And they serve a most grievous servitude, ignobly bowing beneath their passions, [and beating their fellow-servants without mercy,] and trembling before all who are privy to their deeds.

For he alone is free, and he alone is a ruler, and more kingly than kings, who is delivered from the passions.

Knowing these things, then, let us pursue the true freedom, and deliver ourselves from the wicked servitude;

and let us count neither the pomp of office, nor the tyranny of wealth, nor any other such thing as blessed, but virtue alone.

For thus shall we both enjoy security here, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and love toward mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, unto the ages of ages.