羅馬書講道集 第 20 章

'I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, well-pleasing to God, which is your reasonable service.'

Having discoursed at length concerning the loving-kindness of God, and having shown His unutterable care and His ineffable goodness which cannot even be searched out, he now sets forth this very thing, in order to persuade those who have received such benefits to display a manner of life worthy of the gift.

And though he is so great and so exalted, he does not decline to entreat;

and this not for things which he himself was to enjoy, but for things which they stood to gain.

And why do you marvel if he himself does not decline to entreat, seeing that he even

sets before them the mercies of God? For since, he says, we have countless good things from this source, from the mercies of God, revere them, be moved by respect for them.

For they themselves put forward the supplication, that you may display nothing unworthy of them.

Through these very things, then, he says, I beseech you—through the very things by which you were saved;

just as if someone, wishing to make a man who had received great benefits feel shame, should bring forward his very benefactor as a suppliant.

And what is it that you beseech, tell me? 'To present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, well-pleasing to God, which is your reasonable service.'

For since he said 'a sacrifice,' lest anyone should suppose that he was bidding them slaughter their bodies, he quickly added 'living.'

Then, distinguishing it from the Jewish sacrifice, he says, 'holy, well-pleasing to God, which is your reasonable service';

for that other was bodily, and not very well-pleasing.

'For who has required these things at your hands?' He says. And in many other places He is seen to reject them.

Yet it was not this sacrifice, but even while that one was being offered, it was this that He sought.

Wherefore He also said, 'The sacrifice of praise shall glorify Me';

and again, 'I will praise the name of my God with a song, and this shall please God better than a young bullock that puts forth horns and hoofs.'

And in another place, casting it out, He says:

'Shall I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats?' He added, 'Offer unto God the sacrifice of praise, and pay your vows unto the Most High.'

So here too Paul gives command:

'Present your bodies a living sacrifice.'

'And how,' one asks, 'could the body become a sacrifice?' Let the eye look upon nothing evil, and it has become a sacrifice;

let the tongue speak nothing shameful, and it has become an offering;

let the hand do nothing lawless, and it has become a whole burnt offering.

Or rather, these things are not enough, but we also need the active working of good deeds, that the hand may do almsgiving, the mouth may bless those who insult us, and the ear may give itself continually to divine hearings.

For the sacrifice has nothing unclean; the sacrifice is a firstfruit of the rest.

Let us too, then, offer as firstfruits to God our hands and feet and mouth and all the rest;

such a sacrifice is well-pleasing, whereas that of the Jews was even unclean.

'For their sacrifices,' He says, 'are unto them as the bread of mourning.'

That sacrifice presented the slain victim as dead;

but this one renders the slain victim alive.

For when we have put our members to death, then shall we be able to live;

for this is the new law of sacrifice.

And therefore the manner of the fire also is strange and marvellous.

For it needs no wood nor material laid beneath it, but our fire lives of itself, by its own power, and it does not consume the victim but rather gives it life.

This is the sacrifice which God sought from of old;

wherefore the prophet also said, 'A sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit.'

And the three children too offered this sacrifice, saying:

'There is neither ruler, nor prophet, nor place to offer the firstfruits and to find mercy; but in a contrite soul and in a spirit of humility may we be accepted.'

Consider how in each single word he has employed great exactness.

For he did not say, 'Make your bodies a sacrifice,' but, 'Present them.'

as if he said, 'Henceforth have nothing in common with them;'

for they too who present war-horses have nothing further in common with them.

You then also have presented your members to the war against the devil and to that fearful array of battle;

do not drag them down to private and menial services.

And by this he shows yet another thing, namely, that we must also make them approved, if indeed we are to present them.

For it is not to any of the men of earth, but to God Himself, the King of all, that we present them, not that He may merely wage war, but that He may also have the King Himself seated upon them.

For He does not refuse to be seated upon our members, but even greatly desires this;

and what a king would not choose to do towards a fellow-servant of ours, this the Lord of the angels chooses.

Since then it is both to be presented and is a sacrifice, remove every blemish;

for if it has a blemish, it can no longer be a sacrifice.

For neither can an eye be sacrificed that looks upon unchaste things, nor a hand be presented that snatches and overreaches, nor feet that walk crookedly and go up into theatres, nor a belly that is a slave to gluttony and

kindles the lusts of pleasures, nor a heart that harbours wrath and unchaste desire, nor a tongue that utters shameful things.

Wherefore we must scrutinize our body on every side for blemishes.

For if those who offered the ancient sacrifices were commanded to examine everything, and were not permitted to offer an animal that was crop-eared, or bob-tailed, or mangy, or that had the scab;

much more must we, who offer not irrational sheep but ourselves, display greater exactness and be pure on every side, that we too may be able to say, according to Paul:

'For I am now being poured out as a drink-offering, and the time of my departure is at hand.'

For he was purer than any sacrifice;

wherefore he even called himself a drink-offering.

And this will come to pass, if we do away with the old man, if we put to death our members that are upon the earth, if we crucify the world to ourselves.

So shall we no longer need either knife, nor altar, nor fire;

or rather, we shall need all these, yet not such as are made with hands, but all shall come to us from above—both the fire from above and the knife—and the breadth of heaven shall be our altar.

For if, when Elijah offered a visible sacrifice, a flame borne down from above consumed everything—the water, the wood, and the stones;

much more shall this be so in your case.

And even if you have something fluid and worldly clinging to you, yet if you bring your sacrifice with a right mind, the fire of the Spirit coming down will both consume that worldly element and perfect the whole offering.

But what is 'reasonable service'? The spiritual ministry, the manner of life that is according to Christ.

As, then, one who ministers in the house of God and is consecrated, whatever sort of man he be, becomes at that time more reserved and more grave;

so we too must be disposed throughout our whole life, as those who serve and are consecrated.

And this will come to pass, if every day you offer sacrifices to Him, and become a priest of your own body and of the virtue that is according to the soul;

as, for instance, when you offer self-control, when almsgiving, when gentleness and long-suffering.

For in doing these things you offer a reasonable service, that is, one having nothing bodily, nothing gross, nothing perceptible to sense.

Having then exalted the hearer by these titles, and having declared each man to be a priest through his own flesh, through his manner of life, he tells also the way by which it is possible to accomplish all these things aright.

What then is the way? 'Be not conformed,' he says, 'to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.'

For the fashion of this world is grovelling and worthless and temporary, and has nothing lofty, nothing lasting, nothing upright, but all things distorted.

If then you wish to walk uprightly, do not mould yourself according to the fashion of the present life;

for nothing in it is abiding or firmly established.

Wherefore he also called it a 'fashion';

and elsewhere again, 'For the fashion of this world passes away.'

For it has nothing enduring nor fixed, but all things are temporary.

Wherefore he said, 'to this world';

by this indeed signifying its perishable nature, and by the word 'fashion' its unsubstantial character.

For whether you speak of wealth, or of glory, or of bodily beauty, or of luxury, or of any other of the things that seem to be great, it is a fashion only, not the reality of a thing; a display and a mask, not any abiding substance.

But do you not be conformed to this, but be transformed, he says, by the renewing of your mind.

He did not say, 'Change your fashion,' but, 'Be transformed,' showing that the things of the world are a fashion;

but that of virtue is not a fashion, but a certain true form having a natural beauty, that needs not the outward paintings and fashions which appear and perish together in an instant.

For indeed all these things are dissolved before ever they appear.

If then you cast away the fashion, you will quickly come to the form.

For nothing is weaker than vice, nothing so easily grows old.

Then, since it is likely that being men we sin every day, he comforts the hearer, saying: 'Renew yourself every day.'

What we do in the case of our houses, ever repairing them as they grow old, this do also in your own case.

Have you sinned today? Have you made your soul old? Do not despair, nor sink down;

but renew it by repentance and tears and confession and the working of good deeds;

and never cease from doing this.

And how shall we be able to do this? 'That you may prove the things that are excellent, what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God.'

Either he means this: 'Be renewed, that you may learn the things that are profitable and the will of God;'

or that: 'You are able to be thus renewed, if you learn the things that are profitable, and whatever God wills.'

For if you see this, and learn to discern the natures of things, you have laid hold of the whole way that is according to virtue.

'And who,' he says, 'is ignorant of the things that are profitable and what is the will of God?' Those who are agog after present things; those who reckon wealth a thing to be envied and despise poverty; those who pursue positions of power; those who gape after outward glory; those who reckon themselves great when they raise splendid houses, and purchase costly tombs, and possess herds of slaves, and carry about a great swarm of eunuchs.

These men are ignorant both of the things that are profitable for them and of the will of God;

For indeed these two things are one and the same.

For God wills the things that are profitable to us;

and the things which God wills, these also are profitable to us.

What then are the things which God wills? To live in poverty, in lowliness of mind, in the contempt of glory, in self-restraint, not in luxury; in affliction, not in ease; in mourning, not in dissipation and laughter; and in all the other things which He has laid down by law.

But the majority even regard these things as ill omens; so far are they from thinking them to be profitable and the will of God.

For this very reason they will never be able even to come near the labours undertaken for the sake of virtue.

For those who do not so much as know this very thing—what virtue actually is—but instead admire vice in its place, and shut up within themselves the harlot instead of the chaste woman, when will they ever be able to depart from the present age? Therefore, before all else, our judgement concerning things must be rightly ordered;

and even if we do not pursue virtue, let us at least praise virtue;

and even if we do not flee from vice, let us at least condemn wickedness, so that for the present we may keep our votes uncorrupted.

For thus, advancing along the road, we shall be able also to lay hold of the works themselves.

For this reason he too bids us be renewed: 'That ye may prove what is the will of God.'

And here he seems to me also to be striking at the Jews, those who cling to the Law.

For the old polity too was indeed the will of God;

yet not as a primary will, but conceded on account of their weakness;

whereas the perfect and well-pleasing thing is the new polity.

For indeed, when he called it a reasonable service, he named it so in contradistinction to that former one.

'For I say, through the grace given unto me, to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith.'

Having said above, 'I beseech you through the mercies of God,' here again he says, 'through the grace.'

See the humility of the teacher; see his subdued disposition.

Nowhere does he say that he is himself worthy of credit for such exhortation and counsel;

but at one time he takes the mercies of God along with himself, and at another the grace.

'For it is not my own word that I speak,' he says, 'but that which is from God.'

And he did not say, 'For I say unto you through the wisdom of God,' 'for I say unto you through the legislation of God,' but 'through the grace';

continually reminding them of the benefits, so as to make them more grateful, and to show that in this way too they are bound to obedience to what is said.

Not to this man and that man only, but also to ruler and ruled, to slave and free, to unlearned and wise, to woman and man, to young and old;

for this law is common, since it is also the Master's.

In this way too he makes his discourse free from offence, setting forth his teachings before all, even before those who are not liable to reproof, so that those who are liable may more readily accept such rebuke and correction.

And what is it that you say, tell me? 'Not to think of oneself more highly than one ought to think.'

Here he brings in the mother of good things, humility of mind, imitating his own Teacher.

For when He had gone up into the mountain, and was about to weave His ethical discourse, He began from this very point first, and laid these foundations, speaking thus:

'Blessed are the poor in spirit.'

So he too, now passing over from the doctrinal matters to the more ethical ones, taught virtue in general, having demanded from us that wonderful sacrifice;

and being about to describe it in its particulars, he begins, as it were from the head, with humility of mind, and says, 'Not to think of oneself more highly than one ought to think';

for this is the will of God.

'But to think soberly.'

And what he says is of this kind:

We have received understanding, not that we should use it for arrogance, but that we should use it for soberness.

And he did not say, 'unto lowliness of mind,' but 'unto soberness';

meaning here by 'soberness' not the virtue that is contrasted with wantonness, nor being freed from licentiousness, but being watchful and sound in mind;

for indeed this too is called 'soberness' (sōphrosynē), from having one's mind (phrenes) sound (sōas).

Showing therefore that he who does not act with moderation cannot even be sober-minded—that is, be settled and sound—but that such a man raves and is beside himself, and is more frenzied than any madman, he called humility of mind 'soberness.'

'According as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith.'

For since the bestowal of the gifts of grace lifted many up into arrogance, both among these and among the Corinthians, see how he makes plain the cause of the disease, and little by little draws it out from beneath.

For having said that one ought to think soberly, he added:

'According as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith,' here calling the gift of grace 'faith.'

And by saying 'hath dealt,' he both consoled the one who had received the lesser portion, and restrained the one who had enjoyed the greater.

For if God dealt it out, and the achievement is not yours, why do you think highly of yourself?

But if anyone should say that here 'faith' is not being called the gift of grace, this too again shows him more forcibly humbling the boasters.

For if faith is the cause of the gift of grace, by which the miracles are wrought, and this too is from God, whence do you think highly of yourself? For indeed, had He not come and been made flesh, neither would the things of faith have gone forward.

So that all good things have their beginning from thence.

And if He Himself gives, He knows how to apportion;

for He Himself made all, and He cares alike for all.

And just as the giving came from His love for mankind, so also did the measure of how much to give.

For surely, having displayed His goodness in the chief matter—which is the giving of the gifts of grace—He was not going to betray you in the measure.

For if He had wished to dishonour you, He would not have given at all in the first place;

but if He was zealous to save and to honour you (for it was on this account that He came and distributed so many good things), for what reason are you troubled and agitated, and have misused your understanding unto folly, disgracing yourself worse than one who is a fool by nature? For to have become a fool by nature is no charge against a man;

but to have become a fool through one's understanding both is deprived of pardon and brings the greater punishment.

Such are those who think highly of themselves on account of wisdom, and fall into the uttermost arrogance.

For nothing makes one so foolish as does arrogance.

Wherefore also the prophet thus called the barbarian, saying, 'But the fool will speak folly.'

And that you may learn his folly even from his very words, listen to what he says:

'I will set my throne above the stars of heaven, and I will be like the Most High.'

'I will grasp the whole world in my hand as a nest, and I will take it up as eggs that have been left behind.'

What then could be more foolish than these words? And every piece of boastful speech straightway draws down upon itself this reproach.

And even if I should bring forward into the midst each single utterance of those who have lost their wits through pride, you would not be able to distinguish whether the words are those of one bereft of his senses or of a fool;

so completely is this one and the same defect.

For indeed another barbarian again says, 'I am a god, and not a man';

and yet another, 'Shall God be able to save you, or to deliver you out of my hands?' And the Egyptian too: 'I know not the Lord, and I will not let Israel go';

and the foolish man spoken of by the prophet is such a one, saying in his heart, 'There is no God';

and Cain too: 'Am I my brother's keeper?' Are you then unable to distinguish whether the words are those of men bereft of their senses, or of fools? For the...

Madness, falling away from due proportion and issuing from the mind (whence it is even called 'senselessness'), makes men both fools and boasters.

And if the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, then surely the beginning of folly is not to know the Lord.

If, then, to know is wisdom and not to know is folly, and if this ignorance arises from pride (for the beginning of pride is not to know the Lord), then pride is the uttermost folly.

Such a one was Nabal too, who—if not toward God, yet toward man—had through his madness become a fool;

but afterward he died of terror.

For whenever a man falls away from the measure of prudence, he becomes at once both cowardly and reckless, since his soul has grown weak.

For just as the body, when it has lost its balanced temperament and become ill-tempered, is prey to every disorder,

so also the soul, when it has lost its noble greatness and its humility, and has taken on a certain feeble condition, becomes both cowardly and reckless and senseless, and thereafter will be ignorant even of itself.

And he who is ignorant of himself, how shall he know the things above himself? For just as one seized with frenzy, when he becomes ignorant of himself, does not even know what lies before his feet,

and as the eye, when it is itself maimed, casts darkness over all the other members,

so it happens also in the case of madness.

Wherefore these are more wretched than the insane and than those who are fools by nature.

For like the former they stir up laughter, and like the latter they are offensive;

and they are beside themselves like the former, yet are not pitied like the former;

and they are deranged like the latter, yet are not pardoned like the latter, but only hated;

and having the defects of both, they are deprived of the indulgence granted to either, being ridiculous not only in their words but also in their very bearing.

For tell me, why do you crane your neck? Why do you walk on the tips of your toes? Why do you arch your eyebrows? Why do you puff out your chest? You cannot make a single hair white or black, yet you tread the air as though you were master of all. Perhaps you would even like wings to sprout on you, that you might not walk upon the earth;

perhaps you even long to be some monstrous prodigy.

For have you not now made yourself a monster, being a man yet attempting to fly? Or rather, both flying within and inflamed on every side? What shall I call you, that I may cast down your madness? Should I call you ashes and dust and smoke and powder, I would have named your worthlessness, yet I would not yet have accurately grasped the image I intended;

for I wish to set forth also their inflammation and their utter emptiness within.

What image, then, might we find fitting for them? To me they seem to resemble tow that has been set ablaze.

For that too, after the burning, seems to swell up and rise high;

yet at the slightest touch of a hand it all collapses, and appears meaner than any ashes.

Such also are the souls of these men;

for their empty inflation, and any chance assault that comes upon it, will be able to humble it and cast it down.

For the man of madness must of all necessity be also weak;

for such loftiness is not sound, but just as bubbles are easily burst, so also these men are readily destroyed.

And if you disbelieve, give me a man reckless and mad, and you will see him become more cowardly than one already fallen, and that at any chance turn of circumstance.

For just as the flame that rises from twigs is no sooner kindled than it turns to ashes, while the nature of solid timber is neither easily kindled nor readily quenched, but keeps the flame burning for a long while;

so also souls that are firm and steadfast are neither easily set ablaze nor easily quenched;

but these men suffer both these things in a single moment of time.

Knowing this, then, let us practice humility of mind.

For nothing is mightier than it; rather, it is stronger than rock and firmer than adamant, and it establishes us in greater security than towers and cities and walls, being loftier than all the devices of the devil;

just as, on the other hand, madness makes men an easy prey even to the most trifling of foes, being burst more easily than a bubble, as I have said, and torn more swiftly than a spider's web, and dissolved more quickly than smoke.

In order, then, that we may stand firm upon the solid rock, let us forsake that madness and choose this humility.

We shall find rest in the present life, and in the age to come we shall enjoy all good things, by the grace and lovingkindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, and so forth.