腓立比書講道集 第 10 章

'Finally, my brethren, rejoice in the Lord;

to write the same things to you, to me indeed

is not grievous, but for you it is safe.'

'Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of the concision.'

'For we are the circumcision, who worship God in the spirit, and rejoice in Christ Jesus, and have no confidence in the flesh.'

Dejection and anxieties, when they strain the soul beyond measure, deprive it of its own strength.

For this reason Paul also raises up the Philippians, who were in great dejection.

Now they were in dejection because they did not know how Paul's affairs stood;

they were in dejection because they supposed that he had already died — on account of the preaching, on account of Epaphroditus.

Concerning all these things, then, giving them full assurance, he adds:

'Finally, my brethren, rejoice.'

Ye have, he says, no longer any occasion for dejection;

You have Epaphroditus, for whom you grieved;

you have Timothy; I too am coming; the Gospel is being furnished to you.

What then is lacking to you? Rejoice.

Now the Galatians he calls children, but these he calls brethren.

For whenever he wishes either to correct something or to display tender affection, he calls them children;

but whenever he converses with greater honour, he calls them brethren.

'Finally, my brethren,' he says, 'rejoice in the Lord.'

Well did he say, 'In the Lord,' not according to the world;

for it is not possible to rejoice in this world.

These afflictions, he says, that are according to Christ, have joy in them.

'To write the same things to you, to me indeed is not irksome, but for you it is safe.'

Do you see how he does not introduce the exhortation at the outset, but when he had praised them much, when he had admired them, then he does this, and again he praises them?

For this saying seems to be rather burdensome;

wherefore he casts a shade over it from every side.

But of whom does he speak as 'dogs'? Here there were certain men whom he hints at in all his epistles, foul and contemptible Jews, greedy of base gain and lovers of power, who, wishing to draw away many of the faithful, kept proclaiming both Christianity and Judaism, corrupting the Gospel.

Since therefore they were hard to discern, on this account he says:

Once the Gentiles were called this, but now those men are.

Why? Because just as the Gentiles were strangers both to God and to Christ, so now these men also have become, and hence he sets forth their shamelessness and their brazenness, and their great estrangement from the children.

For that the Gentiles were once called dogs, hear what the Canaanite woman says:

'for even the little dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from their masters' table.'

But that they might not have even this claim, since these too are dogs of the household table, he adds that from which he further estranges them, saying, 'Beware of the evil workers.'

And admirably did he say, 'Beware of the evil workers;'

for they do indeed work, he says, but unto evil, and their work is far worse than idleness, since they tear up what has been rightly established.

'Beware,' he says, 'of the concision.'

The matter of circumcision was held in reverence among the Jews, seeing that even the Law gave way to it, and the Sabbath was of less account than it.

For in order that circumcision might take place, the Sabbath was broken;

but that the Sabbath might be kept, circumcision was never broken.

And consider with me the economy of God:

this ordinance, more venerable than the Sabbath, is found to have been [not] passed over at certain times.

Whenever therefore it itself is set aside, much more is the Sabbath.

For this reason Paul cuts asunder its very name, and says:

And he did not say that circumcision is an evil thing, that circumcision is superfluous, lest he should wound the men, but he manages the matter more wisely, drawing them away from the thing while gratifying them in the word, or rather being more zealous even in the thing itself.

But it is not so in the case of the Galatians.

For since the disease was great there, with bared head thereafter and with much authority he brings on the cutting;

but here, since they had done no such thing, he grants them the pleasure that comes from the appellation;

and those men he casts out, and these too.

'For we are the circumcision.'

How? 'Those who worship God in spirit, and put no confidence in the flesh.'

He did not say that we test that circumcision and this one, which is better, but he did not even impart the name to it;

but what does he say? That circumcision is concision.

Why? For they do nothing else than cut up the flesh.

For when the thing done is not lawful, it is nothing else than a cutting and a mangling of the flesh.

Either therefore for this reason he so named it, or because they were attempting to cut up the Church.

And we too speak of 'concision' in the case of those who do this at random and simply and without skill.

'For if,' he says, 'circumcision must be sought, you will find this one among us.'

'Those who worship God in spirit;'

that is, those who worship spiritually.

For tell me, which is better, the soul or the body? It is clear that the soul is.

Then that circumcision too is not better, but this one alone is circumcision.

For so long as the type stood, he with reason advanced it by comparison, writing, 'To be circumcised as to the uncircumcision of your heart.'

Thus also in the Epistle to the Romans he does away with it, saying:

'For he is not a Jew who is one outwardly, neither is that circumcision which is outward in the flesh; but he is a Jew who is one inwardly, and circumcision is that of the heart, in the spirit, not in the letter.'

And thereafter he even deprives it of the name: 'Neither is it circumcision,' he says.

For the type also, so long as the truth is about to come, is called by this name;

but when the truth has come, it is no longer so called.

Someone was sketching the outline of a king, drawing him in shadow-work;

so long as the colours are not laid on, he is not called a king;

but when they are put on, the outline is hidden by the reality and no longer appears;

and then we say, 'Behold the king.'

And he did not say, 'For in us is the circumcision,' but, 'We are' it;

for this is a man, the circumcision that is virtuous; this is truly a man.

But in the case of those men he did not speak thus, but, 'Beware of the concision;'

for they were thereafter in perdition and in wickedness.

Then, making clear that circumcision no longer takes place in the body but in the heart, he says:

'And putting no confidence in the flesh, although I have confidence, even in the flesh.'

What does he mean here by 'confidence' and 'in the flesh'? Boasting, boldness, a matter of pride;

and well did he add this.

For if, being of the Gentiles, he had accused circumcision — and not circumcision only, but also those who handled it out of season — he would have seemed, as one deprived of the nobility of Judaism, to be running it down as one who knew not its honourable things nor had partaken of them;

but now, being one who has partaken and yet accuses, he accuses not on this ground, as one who had no share, but as one who has condemned it, not through ignorance, but rather through full knowledge.

See then what he says also in the Epistle to the Galatians, when fallen into the necessity of speaking great things about himself, how even so he displays humility of mind:

For he says, 'You have heard of my former manner of life in Judaism.'

And again here: 'If anyone else thinks he has grounds for confidence in the flesh, I have more.'

He did not say this at the outset, but only after saying 'if anyone else,' thereby showing the necessity, showing that he spoke on their account.

'If you are confident,' he says, 'I too am more so.'

'I say this now, since I had kept silent.'

And observe how inoffensive his reproofs are;

for by not doing this by name, he gave even those men room to retrace their steps.

And he spoke well in saying 'thinks,' either as of those who do not possess such great confidence, or as of that confidence not being truly confidence at all;

for all these things belonged to necessity, not to deliberate choice.

And first he sets down that which they most prided themselves on, the matter of circumcision;

he showed both things, that he was neither a proselyte nor descended from proselytes.

For from the fact of being circumcised on the eighth day, he was no proselyte;

and from the words 'of the stock of Israel,' he was not even of proselyte parents.

But lest you should suppose that 'of the stock of Israel'

meant of the ten tribes, he says, 'of the tribe of Benjamin';

so that he was of the more approved portion;

for the priestly offices fell by lot within this tribe.

From this he shows that he was no proselyte, but from of old among the esteemed Jews.

For it was possible to be of Israel, yet not a Hebrew of Hebrews.

For many had by then even corrupted the matter, and were uninitiated in the language, mingling with other nations.

Either this, then, or he shows from here his great nobility of descent.

He comes at last to the things that belong to his own deliberate choice;

for all those former things were not matters of choice.

For to be circumcised was not his own doing, nor the being 'of the stock of Israel,' nor the being 'of the tribe of Benjamin';

so that even in these respects he has the greater advantage, even though very many shared these things with him.

Where, then, is the 'more'? Chiefly indeed in this very thing—in not being a proselyte, in being of the most approved tribe, and in being from of old descended from forefathers, things which not many possessed;

but since all these were not matters of choice, he comes to the things that do belong to choice, where the 'more' resides.

'As to the law a Pharisee, as to zeal persecuting the Church.'

He says this because it is not enough to show that 'more' by that one thing alone;

for it is possible to be a Pharisee and yet not a very great zealot.

Since it is possible to be reckless, or to do this for the sake of a love of power, and not out of zeal for the law—which is exactly what the chief priests did;

but rather, 'as to righteousness under the law, having become blameless.'

'If, therefore, in nobility of birth, and in zeal, and in conduct, and in life I surpassed all men, for what reason did I forsake those honored things?' he says—for no other reason than that I found the things of Christ to be greater, and far greater. Wherefore he added: 'But whatever things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ's sake.'

Paul, then, cast away a manner of life so scrupulously exact, begun from his earliest years, so great a nobility of birth, so many dangers, so many plots against him, labors, and diligence, and counted as loss what had before been gain, that he might gain Christ;

yet we do not even despise money in order to gain Christ, but choose rather to fall from the life to come than from present things;

and yet this is nothing other than loss.

For tell me, let us examine one by one the concerns of wealth, whether each is not a kind of loss, entailing unspeakable toil but no gain whatever.

For what, tell me, is the benefit from the many and costly garments? What profit do we reap when we are wrapped in them? None, but we are only the losers.

How so? Because even the poor man, wearing what is cheap and threadbare, in the heat bears the scorching no worse than you—indeed he bears it more easily;

for threadbare garments, worn by themselves, allow the body more freedom;

but newly-made ones, even if they be finer than a spider's web, are not the same.

And you, because of your excessive pomp, have two little tunics, and three, and often a mantle and a girdle and trousers;

but no one blames him for wearing but a single little tunic;

so that he bears the scorching more easily.

From this we see the rich sweating, while the poor suffer none of these things.

When, therefore, cheap garments—those sold for next to nothing—supply him the same use, or even a better one, while those that compel one to pay out much gold do the very same thing, is not the great superfluity a loss? For it has contributed nothing more in terms of use and service; rather, more gold has been drained from you, while it renders the same use and service;

you the rich man bought it perhaps for a hundred pieces of gold or even more, but the poor man for a little silver.

Do you see the loss? But pomp does not allow you to see it.

Will you have us examine this same principle also in the matter of the gold ornaments which they put on horses and women? For among its other effects, wealth also makes people foolish.

For they deem their women worthy of the same honor as

their horses, and the adornment of both is one and the same;

and they wish to appear more splendid by means of the very same things by which their teams of horses are adorned, and by which the leather of the curtains is embellished, in which they are carried.

Tell me, what is the gain in decking out a mule or a horse with gold? And the woman loaded with such a mass of gold and precious stones, what has she the more? 'But the gold does not wear out,' she says.

Indeed, those skilled in these matters say that even this does happen—that in the baths and in many places both the stones and the gold lose much of their value. But be it so, and let it suffer no harm;

what is the gain, tell me? And again, when it is lost and perishes, is it not a loss? And again, when it draws upon one envy and plotting, is it not a loss? For when it profits nothing the woman who wears it, but inflames the eyes of the envious, and rather stirs up robbers, does it not become a loss? And tell me, when it is possible for the husband to use these things for some profitable enterprise, but he cannot because of his wife's extravagance, and is forced to go hungry and be straitened while he sees her decked in gold, is not the thing a loss? For riches were so named for this reason, not that we should use them thus, like the display-cases of the goldsmiths, but that we should accomplish some good work by means of them.

When, therefore, the craving for gold does not let go its hold, is not the whole thing a loss? For he who dares not use them, as though they were another's, has not used them, and there is nowhere any use at all.

And what of it, when we build houses splendid and great, and adorn them with columns and marbles and porticoes and promenades, setting up idols and carved images everywhere? Many indeed even summon demons by means of these;

but let us not examine these things.

What is even the purpose of the golden ceiling? Does it not afford the same use to its owner as a house of moderate proportions? 'But it has great delight,' one says.

But only for a day or two; thereafter, no longer.

For if the sun does not amaze us because it is familiar to us, much more the works of art;

but we attend to them as to things of clay.

For tell me, what does a multitude of columns and the beauty of statues and gold scattered over the walls contribute to an excellent dwelling? Nothing, but it is a matter of effeminacy and insolence and superfluous pomp and folly.

But everywhere we ought to be among the things that are necessary and needful, not among the superfluous.

Do you see that the thing is a loss? Do you see that it is superfluous and profitless? For if it neither supplies greater use, nor delight (for in time it becomes cloying), it is nothing other than loss.

But vainglory, hindering us, does not allow us to see this.

So then, Paul forsook the very things he had reckoned to be gain;

and shall we not give up even the loss for Christ's sake? How long shall we be nailed to the earth? How long shall we not look up to heaven? Do you not see the aged, how they have no perception of the things that have passed away? Do you not see those who are dying—those in old age, those in youth? Do you not see those who in the midst of living are stripped of these things? Why are we glued to things unstable? Why are we bound fast to things insecure? How long shall we not lay hold of the things that abide? What would the old not give, if only it were possible to scrape away old age? Then, of how great irrationality is it not, to wish to return to one's former youth, and readily to give anything whatever for this, so as to become younger, yet when it is possible to receive a youth that never has old age—and a youth, moreover, far more spiritual, together with great riches—to be unwilling to give up even a little, but to cling to things that profit nothing for the present? It cannot rescue you from death, it has not strength to drive away disease, or to hold back old age, or any of those necessary things that come upon us according to the law of nature;

and still you hold on to them? What is the gain, tell me? From this come drunkenness, gluttony, pleasures unseemly and of every kind, harsh

masters, they stretch us all the more upon the rack.

These are the only things one can gain from wealth, and nothing else, because we are unwilling.

For if indeed we were willing, we should have inherited heaven itself by means of wealth.

'Then wealth is a good thing,' someone says.

It is not wealth that accomplishes this, but the free choice of the one who possesses it.

For that it is free choice which accomplishes it, consider the matter from this:

it is possible even for the poor man to inherit heaven.

For as I have often said, God does not regard the measure of what is given, but the free choice of those who give.

It is possible for one who is in poverty, and gives little, to carry off the whole reward.

For God requires things according to one's ability.

Neither does wealth procure heaven, nor poverty hell, but each of these is procured by free choice, whether good or wicked.

Let us therefore set this right, let us recover it, let us regulate it, and all things will be easy for us.

For just as the craftsman, whether he has an iron or a golden axe, works the wood alike—indeed rather more with the iron one—

so it is here too: virtue is more easily accomplished through poverty.

For concerning wealth Christ says, 'It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven.'

But concerning poverty He declared nothing of the sort, but rather the very opposite:

'Sell your possessions, and give to the poor, and come, follow Me'—since the following depends on free choice.

Let us not, then, flee from poverty as though it were an evil;

for it is a procurer of the kingdom.

And again, let us not pursue wealth as though it were a good;

for it destroys those who do not give heed.

But everywhere lifting up our eye to God, let us use for their proper end the things that have been furnished to us by Him—both bodily strength, and abundance of money, and all the rest.

For it is absurd that, being made by Him, we should render these things serviceable to others, and not to Him who made us.

Render these serviceable to Him, not to the devil.

And how will you render them to Him? By contemplating His creatures, and glorifying Him, and turning away from the sight of women.

Has He made you hands? Possess these for Him, not for the devil—not for rapine and covetousness, but for the commandments and good deeds, lifting them up in fervent prayers, and stretching out a hand to those who have fallen.

Has He made you ears? Render these to Him, not to broken-down melodies, nor to shameful hearings;

for 'Let all your discourse,' it says, 'be in the law of the Most High';

and again, 'Stand,' it says, 'in the multitude of the elders, and whoever is wise, cleave to him.'

Has He made you a mouth? Let it do nothing of the things that are not pleasing to Him, but let it sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs;

'that it may give grace,' it says, 'to those who hear'—for edification, and not for destruction; for commendation, and not for accusation; not for treacherous plots, but the very opposite.

He made you feet, not that you should run to wickedness, but to good things;

He made you a belly, not that you should burst it asunder, but that you should practice self-discipline;

He placed in you desire for the begetting of children, but not for fornication and adultery;

He gave you a mind, not that you should blaspheme Him, nor that you should be a reviler, but that you should praise Him;

He gave also money, that we might use it for what is needful;

and strength, that in this too we might be found using it for what is needful.

He made the arts, that life might be held together—not that we should separate ourselves from spiritual things, not that we should give heed to the vulgar crafts, but to the necessary ones;

that we might serve one another, not that we might plot against one another.

He gave a roof, that it might merely shelter from the rain—not that this man should adorn it with gold, while the poor man is destroyed by hunger;

He gave garments, that we might be covered, not that we might make a display, not that some should have much gold on these, while Christ perishes naked;

He gave a dwelling, not that you alone should have it, but that others also might;

He gave the earth, not that you, cutting off the greater part of it for yourself, should squander the good things of God upon harlots and dancers and mimes and flute-players and lyre-singers, but upon the hungry and the needy.

He gave you the sea, that you might sail, that you might not toil in journeying on foot—not that you should busy yourself with its depths, and bring up stones and such things from thence, nor make this your work.

'For what purpose, then,' someone says, 'the precious stones?' Nay, tell me rather yourself: for what purpose the precious stones, and how are those things so costly? Is it by their power? Is it by their usefulness? Rather, those which are not such are the useful ones.

For the latter at least contribute to building, but those contribute to nothing.

And these are stronger than those.

'But those,' he says, 'produce beauty.'

How? The effect is a matter of supposition.

Are they whiter? But they are not whiter than the exceedingly white marble—no, not even equal to it.

But are they stronger? Yet not even this could anyone say.

But more useful? But larger? No, not this either.

Whence, then, have they been so admired? From nowhere else than from supposition.

For if they are neither more beautiful (for we shall find others more conspicuous and whiter), nor useful, nor stronger, whence have they been so admired? Is it not from supposition alone? For what purpose, then, did He give them? He did not give them; rather, you supposed them to be something great.

'What then,' he says, 'of the fact that Scripture also admires these?' It is then speaking to your supposition.

Since a teacher too, in conversing with a child, in many places admires the same things as the child, whenever he wishes to draw it on and win it over.

Why do you seek beauty of garments? Clothe yourself with a garment and with shoes;

with these adorn yourself, in these be content.

David says that the judgments of God are 'to be desired more than gold and much precious stone.'

But where would these things have any account? These things, beloved, are not useful;

if they were useful, He would not have commanded us to despise them;

but the divine Scripture speaks in accommodation to our supposition.

And this too is a mark of God's loving-kindness.

'For what purpose, then,' someone says, 'did He give purple, and all such things?' These are works of the majesty of God.

For from other things also He willed to display His own wealth;

since He gave grain only,

but you make many things from this—cakes, various and manifold pastries, having much pleasure in them.

In another way too, it is vainglory that has devised all these things;

for it seemed good to you to set them forth above all things.

Since if some stranger or a farmer, being unacquainted with these things, should ask you, and, seeing you marveling, should say, 'Why do you marvel at these?'—what could you say? That it is beautiful to look upon? But it is not.

Let us therefore cease from such supposition, and let us cleave to the things that are truly real.

For these things have no true being, but simply pass away only, flowing by like a river that runs past.

Wherefore, I exhort you, let us set ourselves upon the rock, that we may both escape being so easily overturned, and may attain to the good things to come, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honour, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.