羅馬書講道集 第 12 章

'I speak after the manner of men, because of the weakness of your flesh.'

'For just as you presented the members of your flesh as slaves to uncleanness and to lawlessness unto lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness unto sanctification.'

Since he had demanded much strictness of life, bidding them be dead to the world, and to have died to wickedness, and to remain unmoved toward the working of sins, and he seemed to be saying something great and burdensome, transcending human nature;

wishing to show that he demands nothing excessive, nor even so much as it behoved one who had enjoyed so great a gift to render, but something very moderate and light, he establishes it from the contraries, and says, 'I speak after the manner of men';

as if he were saying: from human reasonings, from the things that come to pass in ordinary custom;

for the appellation of 'human' indicates that which is moderate.

For indeed elsewhere too he says:

He has taken hold of nothing that is not human;

that is to say, something measured and modest.

For just as you presented your members as slaves to uncleanness and to lawlessness unto lawlessness, so now present your members as slaves to righteousness unto sanctification.

And yet the difference between the two masters is great; nevertheless I demand an equal measure of servitude.

Indeed it would have been fitting to render far more, and by so much the more as this mastery is greater and better than that one;

yet, on account of your weakness, I demand nothing more.

And he did not say, 'of your resolve,' nor 'of your zeal,' but 'of your flesh,' making his exhortation less burdensome.

And yet the one is uncleanness, the other sanctification;

the one is lawlessness, the other righteousness.

And who is so wretched and miserable as not to bring even so much zeal to the service of Christ as he brought to that of sin and of the devil? Hear then what follows, and you will clearly know that we do not render even this little.

For since, stated thus simply, it did not seem credible or acceptable, and no one could bear to hear that he does not serve Christ as much as he served the devil, by what follows he establishes it and makes it credible, bringing that former servitude into the midst and telling how they served.

'For when you were slaves of sin,' he says, 'you were free in regard to righteousness.'

And what he means is this:

when you lived in wickedness and impiety and the uttermost evils, you lived with such obedience that you did nothing good at all.

For this is what it means, 'You were free in regard to righteousness';

that is, you were not subject to it, but wholly estranged from it.

For you did not apportion the manner of your servitude between righteousness and sin, but gave yourselves wholly over to wickedness.

Therefore now also, since you have passed over to righteousness, give yourselves wholly to virtue, doing nothing at all of vice, so that you may display at least an equal measure.

And yet it is not only that the difference between the masters is great, but the difference of the servitude itself is also great;

which very thing too he unfolds with much clarity, showing what they served then, and what they serve now.

And he does not yet speak of the harm that comes from the deed, but for the present only of the shame.

'For what fruit,' he says, 'had you then in the things of which you are now ashamed?' For such was that servitude, that even the very remembrance of it now brings shame.

But if the remembrance puts to shame, much more does the practice.

So that now you have gained doubly, both being freed from the shame, and having learned in what state you were;

just as then you were doubly harmed, both doing things worthy of shame, and not even knowing to be ashamed—which was greater than the former;

yet nonetheless you continued in servitude.

Having then shown abundantly the harm of what took place then from the shame, he proceeds to the matter itself.

What then was the matter? 'For the end of those things is death.'

For since shame does not seem exceedingly grievous, he comes to what is utterly fearful—I mean death;

and yet what had been said before would have sufficed.

For consider how excessive was the vice, seeing that even when freed from punishment they could not be freed from the shame.

'What reward then,' he says, 'do you expect from the deed, when from the mere remembrance—and that too when you have been freed from punishment—you cover your face and blush, and this while being in such great grace? But the things of God are not of this kind.'

'But now,' he says, 'having been freed from sin, and having become slaves to God, you have your fruit unto sanctification, and the end everlasting life.'

Of those things the fruit is shame even after the deliverance, but of these the fruit is sanctification;

and where there is sanctification, there is much boldness of speech.

Of those the end is death, but of these everlasting life.

Do you see how some things he shows to be already given, while others lie in hope? And from the things given he confirms those others as well, confirming life from sanctification.

For lest you should say that everything lies in hope, he shows that you have already reaped fruit;

first, the being freed from the wickedness and from such evils, the very memory of which brings shame;

second, the being made a slave to righteousness;

third, the enjoying of sanctification;

fourth, the attaining also of life—and a life not temporary, but everlasting.

'But nevertheless, even though these things be so,' he says, 'serve at least in equal measure.'

'For even if the Master is exceedingly superior, and the difference of the servitude is great, and of the rewards for which you serve, yet for the present I demand nothing more.'

Then, since he had made mention of weapons and of a king, he keeps to the metaphor, saying:

'For the wages of sin is death;

but the free gift of God is everlasting life in Christ Jesus our Lord.'

Having said 'the wages of sin,' in the case of good things he did not keep the same order.

For he did not say, 'The reward of your good deeds,' but, 'the free gift of God,' showing that they were not delivered by their own resources, nor received a debt due to them, nor a recompense and repayment for labours, but that all these things came about by grace;

so that herein too lies the surpassing greatness, not only that He delivered them, nor that He transferred them to better things, but that He did so while they neither toiled nor laboured;

and not only that He delivered them, but that He gave things far greater, and gave them through His Son.

And all these things he threw in because he had discoursed concerning grace, and was about henceforth to overthrow the Law.

For lest both these things should make them more slothful, he interposed in the midst the matters concerning strictness of life, everywhere rousing his hearer to the pursuit of virtue.

And when he calls death 'the wages of sin,' he again strikes fear, and secures them against the things to come.

For by the very things through which he reminds them of former days, by these same he makes them thankful, and more secure against all that may come upon them.

Having therefore here brought to a close the discourse on morals, he passes again to matters of doctrine, speaking thus:

'Or are you ignorant, brethren—for I speak to those who know the Law?'

For since he had said that we died to sin, he here shows that not only does sin not have dominion over them, but neither does the Law.

And if the Law does not have dominion, much more does sin not.

And to make his argument the more agreeable, he makes this plain by a human example.

And he seems to say one thing, but he lays down two proofs of the point before him: one, that when the husband has died, the wife is no longer subject to the law of the husband, nor is there anyone to hinder her from becoming another man's wife;

and the other, that here not only has the husband died, but the wife also;

so that she enjoys a twofold freedom.

For if, when the husband has died, she is freed from his authority, when she herself is also seen to have died, much more is she set free.

For if one thing occurring frees her from the authority, much more do both concurring.

Being then about to enter upon the demonstration concerning these things, he begins with praise of his hearers, saying, 'Or are you ignorant, brethren—for I speak to those who know the Law?'

That is, 'I speak of what is very generally acknowledged and clear, and they know all these things with exactness.'

'That the law has dominion over a man for as long a time as he lives.'

He did not say 'over the husband,' nor 'over the wife,' but 'over the man,' which is the name common to either of the two beings.

For he that is dead, he says, is justified from sin.

The law, then, is laid down for the living, but for the dead it issues no more commands.

Do you see how he has shown the freedom to be twofold? Then, having hinted at this in the preface, he carries the argument forward in his exposition by way of the woman, speaking thus:

For the woman that is under a husband is bound by law to her living husband;

but if her husband dies, she is loosed from the law of her husband.

So then, while her husband lives, she shall be called an adulteress if she be joined to another man;

but if her husband dies, she is free from the law, so that she is no adulteress though she be joined to another man.

He keeps turning this about continually, and with great exactness;

because he has full confidence in what is being established by him.

And he sets, in the place of the husband, the law, and in the place of the woman, all those who have believed.

Then he brings in the conclusion not according to the premise;

for what would have followed was to say:

Wherefore, my brethren, the law shall not have dominion over you.

But he did not speak so; rather, in the premise he hinted at this;

yet in the application, so as to make the argument free of offense, he introduces the woman as having died, saying:

Wherefore, my brethren, you also were made dead to the law.

and since that too, once it has come about, affords the same freedom, what hinders him from showing favor to the law, when nothing is thereby harmed in the matter? For the woman that is under a husband is bound by law to her living husband.

Where now are those who slander the law? Let them hear how, even when he has fallen upon necessity, he does not tear down its dignity, but discourses greatly concerning its authority, seeing that while it lives the Jew is bound, and those who transgress it and forsake it while it lives are called adulterers;

but if he has let it go once it has died, it is nothing to marvel at;

for even among men, one who does this is not blamed.

But if her husband dies, she is loosed from the law of her husband.

Did you see how in the illustration he shows the law to have died? But he does not do this in the application.

So then, while her husband lives, the woman shall be called an adulteress.

See how he dwells upon the accusations against those who transgress the law while it lives.

But when he has laid it to rest, then with all security he shows favor to it in the interest of faith, thereby doing no harm.

For while her husband lives, he says, the woman shall be called an adulteress, if she be joined to another man.

Wherefore, my brethren, you also—

Now that the law has died, you are not judged for adultery, though you are joined to another man.

But he did not speak so; rather, how? You were made dead to the law.

If you have become dead, you are not under the law.

For if, when the husband has died, the woman is not liable, much more is she, having herself died, released from him.

Did you see Paul's wisdom, how he showed that the law itself wills this—namely, to depart from it and to be joined to another man? For it does not forbid, he says, being joined to another husband when the former has died.

For how could it, seeing that even while the husband lives it permits her to take a bill of divorcement? But this too he does not set forth, since it was rather a charge against the women;

for even though it was permitted, still it was not free from blame.

For when one has his victory from what is necessary and approved, he does not seek out what is superfluous;

This, then, is the marvel: that the law itself releases us from the charges when we have departed from it;

so that it is its own will that we should become Christ's.

For indeed it too has died, and we too have died, and in a twofold way the claims of its authority have been abolished.

But he is not content with these things alone; he adds also the cause;

for he did not simply set down the death, but again brought in the cross that wrought these things, and by this too making us debtors.

For he does not simply say, You were released, but, Through the death of the Master.

For you were made dead, he says, to the law through the body of Christ.

And he exhorts them not only from this, but also from the surpassing excellence of the second husband;

That you should be joined to another, even to him who was raised from the dead.

Then, lest they should say, What then, if we are unwilling to be joined to a second husband? for the law does indeed not make the widow an adulteress if she enters into a second marriage, yet it does not compel her to marry;

in order, then, that they should not say this, he shows that even from what has already been done for us, we ought to be willing;

which he also sets forth more plainly elsewhere, saying:

and, Be not slaves of men;

and again, One died for all, that they who live should no longer live to themselves, but to him who died for them.

This, at any rate, he hinted at here also when he said:

Then he further exhorts them with the better hopes, saying:

That we should bring forth fruit unto God.

For then, he says, you bore fruit unto death, but now unto God.

For when we were in the flesh, the passions of sins, which were through the law, wrought in our members to bring forth fruit unto death.

Did you see the gain of the former husband? And he did not say, When we were in the law, everywhere sparing to give the heretics a handle;

but, When we were in the flesh—that is, in wicked deeds, in the fleshly life.

For he does not mean this, that before this they were in the flesh, but now, having become bodiless, they went about.

But in saying this, he neither says that the law is the cause of sins, nor does he free it from odium;

for it held the rank of a bitter accuser, laying bare the sins;

by enjoining more upon him who is willing to obey in nothing, it makes the transgression to abound.

For this reason he did not say, The passions of sins that come to be under the law, but, that are through the law; and he did not add, coming to be, but simply, through the law—that is, those made manifest or made known through the law.

Then, so that he might not accuse the flesh either, he did not say, which the members wrought, but which were wrought in our members;

showing that the origin of the wickedness is from elsewhere—from the reasonings that set it in motion, not from the members that are set in motion.

For the soul held the rank of the craftsman, while the nature of the flesh was as a lyre, sounding just as the craftsman compelled.

Therefore we must reckon the discordant strain not to the latter, but to the former before the latter.

But now, he says, we have been discharged from the law.

Do you see how here again he spares the flesh and the law? For he did not say that the law was abolished, nor that the flesh was abolished, but that we were abolished.

And how were we abolished? By the old man that was held fast by sin having died and been buried;

for this is what he showed by saying:

Having died in that in which we were held fast.

It is as though he said: The bond by which we were held fast has been put to death and dissolved, so that he who held us captive—that is, sin—holds us no longer.

But do not sink down, nor grow the more negligent;

for you were set free from bondage, not that you should serve again, and not in the same manner, but that we should serve in newness of the Spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter.

But what is it that he says? For it is necessary now to disclose this, so that when we come upon the passage we may not be thrown into confusion.

For when Adam sinned, he says, his body also became mortal and subject to suffering, and received many natural defects, and the horse grew heavier and harder to rein in;

but Christ, when He came, made it lighter for us through baptism, raising it up with the wing of the Spirit.

For this very reason the lists of combat are not the same for the men of old and for us, since even then the course was not so easy.

Wherefore He too requires that we be pure not from murders only, as the ancients were, but even from anger;

nor from adultery only, but He commands us to be delivered even from an unchaste glance;

nor from perjury only, but to be free even from oaths altogether; and He enjoins us to love our enemies together with our friends;

and in all other things too He made the courses longer, and, should we not obey, He has threatened hell besides, showing that the things required are not, like virginity and voluntary poverty, matters of the ambition of those who strive, but are by all means to be accomplished.

For indeed they belong among the necessary and pressing things, and he who does them not pays the uttermost penalty.

Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven.

And he who sees not the kingdom shall by all means fall into hell.

For this reason Paul also said:

For sin shall not have dominion over you;

for ye are not under the law, but under grace.

That we should serve in newness of the Spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter.

For there is no letter that condemns—that is, the old law—but a Spirit that helps.

For this reason, among the men of old, if anywhere someone appeared practising virginity, it was a matter of great astonishment;

but now everywhere throughout the inhabited world the practice has been sown abroad;

and death then but few men scarcely despised, yet now in villages and cities alike there stand countless throngs of martyrs, made up not of men only, but of women also.

Then, since he had said these things, he resolves an objection that again arises, and in resolving it he establishes what he intends.

For this reason he does not even introduce the solution as of primary purpose, but as arising from a counter-statement, so that by the necessity of the resolution he may seize an occasion to say what he wishes, and may render the accusation less burdensome.

For since he had said, In newness of the Spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter, he added:

What shall we say then? Is the law sin? God forbid.

For indeed before this he had said that The passions of sins, which were through the law, wrought in our members;

and, Sin shall not have dominion over you;

for ye are not under the law, but under grace;

and that, Where there is no law, there is no transgression;

and, The law entered besides, that the offence might abound;

and, The law works wrath.

Since therefore all these things seemed to bring a charge against the law, as one correcting the suspicion arising from them, he sets down also the objection, and says:

What then? Is the law sin? God forbid.

Before the demonstration he forbade it, winning over the hearer, and healing the one who was being offended.

For thereafter, having heard it and being assured concerning his disposition, the hearer joins with him in inquiring into what seems to be perplexing, and does not hold the speaker in suspicion;

wherefore he has set down that objection by anticipation.

For he did not say, What then might I say? but, What shall we say? as of a deliberation and judgment set forth, and of a common assembly of the Church convened, and as though the objection appeared not from himself, but from the sequence of what had been said and from the truth of the matters.

For that the letter kills, no one will gainsay, he says;

and that the Spirit gives life, this too is manifest, and no one would contend against it.

If then these things are agreed, what should we say concerning the law? that it is sin? God forbid.

Do you see how he sets the adversary alongside himself, and, assuming the dignity of a teacher, proceeds to the solution? What then is the solution? Sin indeed it is not, he says.

But I had not known sin, except through the law.

What the law is not, he set down by way of counter-statement, so that by doing away with this, and thereby granting a concession to the Jew, he might persuade him to accept the lesser point.

But what is the lesser point? That I had not known sin, except through the law.

For I had not known lust, he says, except the law had said.

Do you see how by little and little he shows the law to be not only an accuser of sin, but even quietly its establisher? Yet he declares that this comes about not through its own fault, but through the fault of the senseless Jews.

For indeed he was eager also to stop the mouths of the Manichaeans, who accuse the law.

For having said that I had not known sin, except through the law, and I had not known lust, except the law had said,

Thou shalt not covet, he added:

But sin, taking occasion by the commandment, wrought in me all manner of lust.

Do you see how he freed it from all charges? For sin, taking occasion, he says—not the law—increased the lust, and the contrary of what the law wished came to pass;

which was a mark of weakness, not of wickedness.

For when we desire something and are then hindered, the flame of the desire is kindled the more.

But this is not owing to the law;

for it indeed forbade, so as to lead away;

but sin—that is, your own slothfulness and your wicked purpose—used the good thing for the contrary end.

But this is no charge against the physician, but against the sick man who used the medicine badly.

For not for this cause did He give the law, that it might kindle the lust, but that it might quench it;

yet the accusation belongs not to it, but to us.

For neither, if one who does not permit a man in a fever, and craving cold drink unseasonably, to gorge himself thereon, should thereby increase the desire for that deadly pleasure, would he justly be blamed;

for it was the physician's part only to forbid, but the abstaining belonged to the sufferer.

For what of it, if sin took its occasion from the law? For many even of the wicked increase their own wickedness out of good injunctions;

since the devil too in this way destroyed Judas, casting him into the love of money, and making him steal the goods of the poor;

yet it was not the being entrusted with the money-box that wrought this in him, but the wickedness of his purpose.

And Eve too, having prepared Adam to eat of the tree, cast him out of paradise;

yet neither there was the tree the cause, even though through it the occasion came about.

But if he uses somewhat vehement language concerning the law, do not marvel;

for Paul takes his stand toward the pressing need, not indeed leaving even to those who otherwise suspect his words a handle to lay hold of, yet making great haste to set right the matter at hand.

Therefore do not examine the things said here in a bare fashion, but add also the theme on account of which he is led to say them, and take into account the Jewish madness and their vehemence.

the contentious dispute which he was hastening to dissolve.

He seems to breathe out much against the Law, not that he might slander it, but that he might relax the vehemence of these men.

For if it be a charge against the Law that through it sin took its occasion, this will be found to happen in the New Covenant as well.

For indeed in the New Covenant also there are countless laws, and these concerning matters far greater;

and one might see the same thing coming to pass there too, and that not in the case of desire only, but in the case of every kind of wickedness whatsoever.

For 'If I had not come and spoken to them,' He says, 'they would not have had sin.'

Therefore from this source sin took its occasion, and the greater punishment as well.

And again, Paul, discoursing concerning grace, says:

'Of how much worse punishment, do you think, shall he be counted worthy who has trodden underfoot the Son of God?' Therefore even the worse punishment has its occasion from this source, namely from the greater benefit.

And the Greeks too, he says, are on this account without excuse, in that, though honoured with reason and having learned the beauty of the creation, and being able through it to be led by the hand toward the Creator, they did not use the wisdom of God unto its proper end.

See how everywhere occasions for the greater chastisement of the wicked arise out of good things.

But surely we shall not on this account accuse the benefits of God; rather, these we shall admire the more even after these things, while we shall censure the disposition of those who have used good things toward the contrary ends.

This same thing, then, let us do also in the case of the Law.

But this indeed is easy and simple.

How is it that he says, 'I had not known lust, except the Law had said'?

For if a man had not known lust before he received the Law, whence came the Flood? Whence were the Sodomites burned up? What then does he mean? The intensified lust.

For this reason he did not say, 'It wrought in me lust,' but 'all lust,' hinting here at its vehemence.

'And what,' one may say, 'is the gain of the Law, if it increased the passion?' None, but rather much harm;

yet this is no charge against the Law, but against the slothfulness of those who received it.

For sin wrought this, though through the Law;

yet this was not what the Law was earnestly seeking, but rather the very opposite.

Sin therefore became stronger, and exceedingly so;

but neither is this again a charge against the Law, but against their perverseness.

'For without the Law sin is dead;'

that is, not so plainly recognised.

For those before the Law also knew that they were sinning, yet they learned it more exactly after the giving of the Law.

For this reason too they were liable to a greater accusation.

For it was not the same thing to have nature as an accuser, and to have, along with nature, the Law also openly proclaiming all things.

'And I was alive without the Law once.'

When, tell me? Before Moses.

See how he is earnest to show that the Law weighed down human nature both by what it did and by what it did not do.

'For when I was alive without the Law,' he says, 'I was not so condemned.'

'But when the commandment came, sin revived, and I died.'

This indeed seems to be an accusation of the Law;

but if one should examine it accurately, it will appear to be even an encomium of it.

For it did not bring into being a sin that was not there, but showed one that was hidden;

which very thing is a praise of the Law, seeing that before it they sinned without perception, but after it had come, even if they reaped nothing else, this at least they learned accurately, namely that they were sinning;

which would be no small thing toward deliverance from wickedness.

But if they were not delivered from wickedness, this is nothing against the Law which did all for this end, but the whole accusation belongs to the disposition of those men, which was corrupted beyond all hope.

For it was not according to reason, this thing that came to pass, namely to be harmed by the things that were profiting.

'And the commandment which was unto life, this I found to be unto death.'

He did not say, 'It became death,' nor 'It brought forth death,' but 'I found,' thus interpreting the strange and paradoxical character of the absurdity, and turning the whole matter upon their own head.

For if you are willing to see its aim, it led unto life, he says, and for this end it was given;

but if death resulted from it, the charge belongs to those who received the commandment, not to that which was leading unto life.

And this very thing he makes clearer also through what follows.

'For sin, taking occasion through the commandment, deceived me, and through it slew me.'

Do you see how everywhere he lays hold of sin, freeing the Law from every accusation? Wherefore he added, saying:

'So that the Law is holy, and the commandment holy and just and good.'

But, if you please, let us bring also into the midst the discourse of those who pervert these interpretations;

for thus what is said by us will be clearer.

For some say that here he is not speaking these things concerning the Law of Moses, but some say concerning the natural law, and others concerning the commandment given in Paradise.

And yet everywhere Paul's aim is to give this Law its rest, whereas toward those others he has no argument at all;

for it was this that the Jews, dreading and shuddering at, made them contentious against grace.

But the commandment in Paradise he nowhere appears to have called a law, neither he himself nor anyone else.

But that this may become clearer even from the very words that have been spoken, let us go through the expressions, carrying the argument back a little higher.

For having discoursed to them accurately concerning the manner of life, he added, saying:

'Or do you not know, brethren, that the Law has dominion over a man for as long a time as he lives? So that you were made dead to the Law.'

Therefore if these things were said concerning the natural law, we shall be found not having a natural law;

and if this be true, we are more senseless than the irrational beasts.

But this is not so, it is not so.

For concerning that which is in Paradise it is not even necessary to contend, lest we take upon ourselves a superfluous war, stripping ourselves for battle against things already agreed upon.

How then does he say, 'I had not known sin, but by the Law'? Not speaking of ignorance in general, but of the more exact knowledge.

For if this were said concerning the natural law, how could what follows have any reason? 'For I,' he says, 'was alive without the Law once.'

For neither Adam, nor any other man whatsoever, ever appears to have lived without the natural law;

for at the same moment that God was fashioning him, He also implanted that law in him, setting it beside all nature as a secure fellow-dweller.

And apart from these things, he nowhere appears to have called the natural law a commandment;

but this Law he calls both a commandment, and just, and holy, and a spiritual law.

But the natural law was not given to us from the Spirit;

for indeed barbarians and Greeks and all men have this law.

Whence it is plain that he is discoursing, above and below and everywhere, concerning the Mosaic Law.

Wherefore he also calls it holy, saying:

So that the law is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and good.

For even if the Jews became unclean after the law, and unjust and grasping, this does not annul the excellence of the law, just as their unbelief does not do away with the faithfulness of God.

So that from all these things it is plain that he is discoursing about the Mosaic law.

'Was then that which is good made death unto me?' he says. 'God forbid!'

'But sin, that it might appear sin' —

that is, that it might be shown how great an evil sin is: the slothful choice, the impulse toward what is worse, the very deed itself, and the corrupted disposition;

for this is the cause of all evils.

And he magnifies it, displaying the surpassing greatness of Christ's grace, and teaching from what an evil He delivered the race of men — an evil that grew worse even through medicinal remedies and increased through the very things that would have restrained it;

'That sin, through the commandment, might become exceedingly sinful.'

Do you see how everywhere he interweaves it with this? And by the very things wherein he accuses sin, he again shows more greatly the excellence of the law.

For it was no small thing he accomplished in showing how great an evil sin is, laying bare all its venom and setting it forth in the open;

for this he indicated when he said:

'That sin, through the commandment, might become exceedingly sinful.'

That is, that it might appear how great an evil, how great a ruin, sin is;

and this was shown through the commandment.

From these things too he shows the superiority of grace over the law —

the superiority, not the conflict.

For do not look at this, that those who received it became worse, but consider that other point: that the law not only was unwilling to lead vice to any greater intensity, but was even zealous to cut out the vice that already existed.

It had the power — crown that man, indeed, for his purpose;

but worship still more greatly the power of Christ, in that it made to vanish an evil so manifold and so hard to combat, and, cutting it out by the roots, tore it up utterly.

But when you hear of 'sin,' do not suppose it to be some subsistent power, but the wicked deed, ever coming into being and passing away, which neither existed before it was done, and after it is done again vanishes.

For it was on this account that the law also was given;

and a law is never given for the abolition of what belongs to nature, but for the correction of the wicked deed that proceeds from choice.

And this the lawgivers outside the Church also know, and so does the whole nature of men.

For they only restrain the evils that arise from slothfulness; they do not undertake to cut out the things that are allotted to nature;

for the things of nature remain unmoved — which I have often said to you in other discourses as well.

Therefore, laying aside these contests, let us again exercise ourselves in the moral discourse;

or rather, this part too is one of those contests.

For if we cast out vice and bring in virtue,

then by these very things we shall clearly teach that vice is not evil by nature; and those who inquire whence come evils we shall be able easily to silence, not by words only but by deeds as well, since we share the same nature with them, yet are freed from their wickedness.

For let us not look at this, that virtue is laborious, but at this, that it is possible to be accomplished;

and if we are diligent, it will be to us both light and easy.

But if you speak to me of the pleasure of vice, speak also of its end;

for this ends in death, just as virtue leads us by the hand into life.

Or rather, if you please, let us examine each of them even before its end;

for we shall see that vice has much anguish, but virtue pleasure.

For what, tell me, is more painful than a wicked conscience? And what more pleasant than a good hope? For nothing, nothing is so wont to cut and press us down as an evil expectation;

and nothing so upholds us, and all but makes us fly, as a good conscience.

And this one may learn from the things that take place among us.

For of the beggars that pass along the narrow street, conscious to themselves of nothing wicked, and of those who dwell in prison awaiting condemnation — even should the latter enjoy food without number, they live in greater pain;

for the expectation of dreadful things does not allow them to perceive the pleasures at hand.

And why do I speak of prisoners? For the toiling craftsmen, who spend the whole day in labors, are far better disposed than those who live abroad in wealth yet are conscious to themselves of wicked things.

And it is on this account too that we count the gladiators wretched;

for although we see them in the taverns drunk, luxuriating, gorging themselves, we yet say they are more miserable than all, because the calamity of the expected end is far greater than that pleasure.

But if to them this life seems sweet, call to mind the saying which I continually speak to you: that it is no wonder if one living in vice does not escape the bitterness and grief of vice.

For behold, a thing so accursed seems desirable to those who pursue it.

But not on this account do we call them blessed; rather, on this very account we count them wretched, because they do not even know into what evils they have fallen.

And what would you say of the adulterers, who for a little pleasure endure unseemly bondage, expense of money, continual fear, and simply the life of Cain — nay, rather far harder than his — dreading things present and trembling at things to come, suspecting friends and enemies, both those who know and those who know nothing? And not even when they sleep are they released from this agony, since their wicked conscience frames for them dreams full of many terrors and so affrights them.

But the chaste man is not such; rather, he passes his present life in much ease and freedom.

Set, then, over against the small pleasure the many waves of these fears, and over against the brief toil of self-control the calm of a continual life, and you will see that the latter is sweeter than the former.

But the man who wishes to plunder, tell me, and

to lay hands on other men's goods — does he not undergo ten thousand toils, running about, flattering slaves, free men, doorkeepers, threatening, menacing, playing the shameless one, going sleepless, trembling, in agony, suspecting everything? But the man who despises wealth is not such; rather, he too enjoys much pleasure, living in security and with all safety.

And if one should go through the other parts of vice as well, he will see much tumult, many reefs.

And what is the greater thing: that in the case of virtue the laborious things come first, and after these the pleasant;

so that in this way too the toil is lightened;

but in the case of vice it is the reverse:

after the pleasure come the anguishes and the punishments;

so that from this side too the pleasure is made to vanish.

For just as the man who awaits crowns perceives none of the burdensome things present,

so the man who after the pleasure expects punishments cannot reap pure gladness, since fear throws everything into confusion.

Or rather, if one should examine accurately, even before the punishment that is laid up for these things, one might find much anguish arising in the very daring of the vice.

And if it seems good, let us examine this in the case of those who seize other men's goods, or of those who by any means whatsoever heap up wealth;

and setting aside fears and dangers and trembling and agony and anxiety and all these things, let us suppose there is someone growing rich without trouble, and confident about the safekeeping of his possessions — which is impossible, yet nevertheless let it be granted for the sake of argument;

what pleasure, then, will this man reap? That he has heaped up much? But this very thing, on the contrary, does not permit him to be glad;

for so long as he desires yet more of what belongs to others, the torments are intensified.

For desire, when it comes to a stand, then affords pleasure;

since even we who thirst refresh ourselves then, when we drink as much as we wish;

but so long as we thirst, even if we should drain all the springs dry, the torment becomes greater to us; and even if we should drink up ten thousand rivers, the punishment is harsher.

And you too, therefore, if you take the things of the world and yet still desire, have wrought yourself a greater punishment, in proportion as you have tasted the more.

Do not, then, imagine that any pleasure accrues to you from surrounding yourself with many possessions, but rather from having no wish to be rich;

for if you set your heart on being rich, you will never cease to be scourged.

For this is a longing that has no fulfillment, and the further along the road you advance, the more you stand removed from its end.

Is this not therefore a riddle, a derangement, and the utmost madness? Let us then withdraw at the very first from these evils;

or rather, let us not lay hold of such a desire at all;

and even if we do lay hold of it, let us leap away from the very outset;

which is what the writer of Proverbs enjoins, speaking concerning the harlot woman:

'Leap away, do not tarry, and do not draw near to the doors of her house.'

This same thing I too say to you concerning the love of money.

For if you fall in by little and little, entering the sea of that madness, you will scarcely be able to come back again;

and just as in whirlpools, though you struggle ten thousand times, you will not easily prevail,

so too, and far more grievously, once you have fallen into the depth of this desire, you will destroy yourself together with all that you have.

Wherefore, I beseech you, let us guard the beginning, and let us flee the small evils;

for from these the great ones are born.

For he who has learned to say at each single sin, 'It is nothing beside this,' will by little and little lose everything.

This it was that brought in wickedness, this that opened the doors to the robber, this that cast down the walls of the city—the saying at each single thing:

So too in the case of bodies the greatest maladies increase, when the small ones are despised.

Esau, had he not first surrendered his birthright, would not have become unworthy of the blessings;

and had he not made himself unworthy of the blessings, he would not have gone on to desire fratricide.

Cain, had he not lusted after the first place, but yielded it to God, would not have come to have the second place;

and again, having the second place, had he heeded the admonition, he would not have travailed with murder;

and again, having wrought the murder, had he come to repentance when God called him, and not answered shamelessly, he would not have endured the terrors that followed.

If these men, from such heedlessness, came by little and little to the very bottom of wickedness, consider what we shall suffer—we who are called to greater arenas—if we do not attend to ourselves with strict care, and, forestalling the sparks of evil before the pyre be kindled, do not extinguish them.

Do you swear falsely continually? Do not stop merely at this, but take away also the swearing itself, and thereafter you will need no labor;

for it is far harder for one who swears not to perjure himself, than not to swear at all.

Are you insolent and abusive and given to blows? Write for yourself a law neither to be angry nor to cry out at all, and together with the root the fruit also is taken away.

Are you lecherous and dissolute? Set yourself again a boundary, so as not to look upon a woman, nor to go up into the theater, nor in the marketplace to busy yourself with the beauty that belongs to others.

For it is far easier at the beginning not even to see a comely woman, than, having gazed upon her and admitted the desire, to cast out the tumult that arises from it.

For the contests are lighter at their outset;

or rather, we have no need of a contest at all, if we do not open the doors to the enemy, nor receive the seeds of wickedness.

For this reason Christ also chastised the man who looks lustfully upon a woman, that He might deliver us from greater labor, commanding us to cast out the adversary before he becomes strong—when he can also be cast out with ease.

For what necessity is there to have needless trouble, and to grapple with the adversaries, when it is possible without grappling to set up the trophy, and before the wrestling to snatch the prize? For it is not so great a labor not to see beautiful women, as it is a labor to restrain oneself when seeing them;

or rather, the former would be no labor at all, but much sweat and toil come after the seeing.

When therefore the labor is less—or rather, when there is no toil or labor at all—and the gain is greater, why are we eager to plunge into the sea of ten thousand evils? For he who does not look upon a woman will not only more easily, but also more purely, prevail over such desire, just as he who does look is delivered, both with greater labor and with a certain stain, if indeed he is ever delivered at all.

For he who has not looked upon the comely countenance is pure also of the desire that springs therefrom;

but he who has desired to look, having first cast down his reason and defiled it ten thousand times, then—if indeed he casts it out—casts out the stain that comes from the desire.

For this very reason Christ also, that we might not suffer these things, forbids not murder only, but also anger;

not adultery only, but also the unchaste glance;

not perjury only, but also swearing altogether.

And not even here does He halt at the measure of virtue, but, having laid down these ordinances, He goes on to what is yet greater.

For having withdrawn us from murders, and having commanded us to be clean of anger, He commands also that we be ready to suffer ill, and to be prepared to suffer not only as much as the plotter wishes, but to go beyond even further, and to overcome the excess of his madness by the abundance of our own philosophy.

For He did not say, 'If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, bear it nobly and be still,' but added to this also the offering of the other;

for 'Turn to him,' He says, 'the other also.'