羅馬書講道集 第 24 章

'And this, knowing the season, that it is now the hour for us to awake out of sleep.'

Since he had enjoined all that was needful, he urges them once more toward the working of good deeds by way of that which presses upon them.

'For the season of judgment,' he says, 'stands at the very doors.'

just as he also wrote to the Corinthians, that 'the time that remains is short';

and again to the Hebrews, 'Yet a little while, how little, how little, and he that cometh will come, and will not tarry.'

But there he said these things to raise up those who were toiling, and to comfort them in the sweats of their repeated trials; whereas here it is to rouse those who are asleep.

For indeed this word is useful to us for both purposes.

But what is it that he says, 'It is now the hour for us to awake out of sleep'? That is: the resurrection is near, near is the fearful judgment, near is the day that burns like an oven;

and it is high time henceforth that we be rid of our slothfulness.

'For now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.'

Do you see how he already sets the resurrection before them? For as time advances, he says, the season of the present life is being spent, while the age to come draws nearer.

If, then, you are prepared, and have done all that he enjoined, the day becomes for you a day of salvation;

Yet he exhorts them for the present not from the grievous things but from the good things, and by this he releases them from an over-attachment to the things that are present.

Then, since it was likely that in the beginning and at the outset they would be more zealous, their longing being at its height, but that as time went on all their zeal would wither away, he says that on the contrary one must do the opposite: not to grow slack as time advances, but rather to be at one's height.

For the nearer the king approaches, so much the more must one make ready;

the nearer the prize is, so much the more must one rouse oneself for the contests;

since the runners also do this;

when they come near to the end of the course and to the taking of the prize, then they exert themselves the more.

For this reason he said, 'Now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.'

'The night is far spent, and the day is at hand.'

If therefore this one is coming to its end, and that one draws nigh;

let us henceforth do the works of that one, not of this one.

For indeed this happens also in the affairs of daily life;

and when we see the night hastening on toward dawn, and hear the swallow singing, each of us rouses his neighbor, even though it is still night;

but since it is now departing, we henceforth make haste, saying to one another, 'Day has come,' and we do all the things of the day, clothing ourselves and shaking off our dreams and thrusting away sleep, that the day may find us prepared, and that we may not, when the sunbeam has risen, only then begin to rise and stretch ourselves.

What, then, we do in that case, let us do this also in the present case;

let us strip off our fancies, let us be rid of the dreams of the present life, let us put away deep sleep, and let us put on virtue in place of garments;

for indicating all these things he said, 'Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light.'

For indeed the day calls us to battle-array and to combat.

But do not be afraid at hearing of battle-array and arms.

For in the case of material full armour, to be armed is a heavy and unwelcome thing; but here it is a thing to be desired and worthy of prayer;

wherefore he shows you to be brighter than the sunbeam, sending forth much lightning, and he establishes you in safety;

What then? Is there no necessity to make war? There is indeed a necessity to make war, yet not to be worn out and to toil;

for this is not a war, but a dance and a festal assembly.

Such is the nature of these arms, such is the power of the Commander.

And just as a bridegroom comes forth adorned from the bridal chamber, so too does he who is fenced about with these arms;

for he is at once a soldier and a bridegroom.

And having said that 'the day is at hand,' he does not even allow it to be merely near, but already sets it upon us;

for he says, 'Let us walk becomingly, as in the day.'

And from the very things by which the many are most strongly moved, from these he also draws them on—namely, seemliness of conduct;

for great weight has for them the account taken of the opinion held by the many.

And he did not say, 'Walk ye,' but, 'Let us walk,' so as to make the exhortation inoffensive and the rebuke light.

not forbidding drinking, but drinking without measure;

not the enjoyment of wine, but the accompaniment of drunken revelry;

just as therefore he sets down what follows also with the same measure, saying:

'Not in chamberings and wantonness.'

For neither does he here do away with intercourse with women, but with fornication.

For it is the occasions of the passions that quench desire and wrath.

Wherefore he does away not with these alone, but also with their very sources.

For nothing so kindles desire and inflames anger as drunkenness and drunken revelry.

For this reason, having first said, 'Not in reveling and drunkenness,' he then added:

'Not in chamberings and wantonness, not in strife and envy.'

And he did not even stop here, but having stripped us of the wicked garments, hear how he then adorns us, saying:

'But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ.'

He no longer said 'works,' but raised them up to something greater.

For when he spoke concerning vice, he said 'works';

but when concerning virtue, no longer 'works,' but 'arms,' showing that virtue sets him who has it in all safety and in all splendor.

And not even here did he stop, but carrying the discourse to something yet greater—which was far more awe-inspiring—he gives us the Master Himself as a garment, the King Himself.

For he who has clothed himself with this One possesses in sum the whole of virtue.

And when he says, 'Put ye on,' he bids us clothe ourselves with Him on every side;

just as elsewhere he says, 'If Christ be in you';

and again, 'That Christ may dwell in our inward man.'

For indeed he wishes our soul to be a house for Him, and Him to be wrapped about us as a garment, so that He may be all in all to us, both within and without.

For indeed He Himself is our fullness (for He is 'the fullness of Him that filleth all in all');

and He is way and husband and bridegroom ('For I have espoused you to one husband, that I may present you a chaste virgin');

and root and drink and food and life ('For I live,' he says, 'yet not I, but Christ liveth in me');

and apostle and high priest and teacher and father and brother and joint-heir, and partner of the tomb and of the cross ('For we were buried with Him,' he says, 'and have become planted together in the likeness of His death');

and suppliant ('For we are ambassadors on Christ's behalf');

and advocate with the Father ('For He maketh intercession,' he says, 'for us');

and house and indweller ('For he that abideth in me, and I in him'), and friend ('For ye are my friends');

and foundation and chief cornerstone;

And we are His—His members, His tillage, His building, His branches, and His fellow-workers.

For what does He not desire us to be, joining and knitting us to Himself in every possible way? And this belongs to one who loves us exceedingly.

Be persuaded, therefore, and rising up out of sleep put Him on; and having put Him on, yield your flesh to Him as something easily managed and obedient to the rein.

For this is what he hinted at when he said, 'Make no provision for the flesh, to fulfil its lusts.'

For just as he did not forbid drinking, but drunkenness, nor marrying, but licentiousness,

so neither did he forbid making provision for the flesh, but making provision for its lusts—that is, going beyond what is needful.

Since—that he does indeed bid us provide for it—hear what he says to Timothy:

'Use a little wine for your stomach's sake and your frequent infirmities.'

So then here too make provision, but with a view to health, not to wantonness.

For it would no longer be provision when you kindle the flame, when you make the furnace fierce.

But that you may learn yet more clearly what it is to provide for the flesh unto lust, and may flee such provision, consider the drunkards, the gluttons, those who deck themselves out in fine garments, the effeminate, those who lead a

soft and dissolute life; and you will understand what has been said.

For those men do all things, not that they may be in health, but that they may leap and frisk about, that they may kindle desire.

But you who have put on Christ, cut away all those things and seek this one thing only: that you may keep your flesh in health.

And provide for it up to this point, but no further; rather, spend all your zeal upon the care of things spiritual.

For thus you will be able to rise up out of this sleep, not being weighed down by these manifold lusts.

For the present life is a sleep, and the things in it differ in nothing from dreams.

And just as those who sleep talk nonsense in their sleep and often see nothing wholesome, so also do we;

or rather, our case is far worse.

For he who has done or said something shameful in a dream, on being released from sleep, is also released from the shame and pays no penalty;

but here it is not so; rather, both the shame and the punishment are undying.

Again, those who are rich in a dream, when day comes, are convicted of having been rich in vain;

but here the conviction often comes upon a man even before the day, and before he departs thither these dreams have flown away.

Let us then shake off this evil sleep.

For if the day overtakes us sleeping, an undying death will succeed;

and even before that day we shall be an easy prey to all the enemies here, both men and demons;

and if they wish to destroy us, there will be none to hinder them.

For if those who were awake were many, the danger would not be so great;

but since here and there one or a second, having lit a lamp, is awake—as it were in the deepest night while the rest are sleeping—for this reason we have need of much watchfulness, much safeguarding, that we may not suffer things beyond remedy.

Does not the day seem to be bright now? Do we not all think that we are awake and sober? Yet nevertheless (and perhaps you will laugh at what is said—but I will say it all the same), we all resemble those who are sleeping in deep night and snoring.

And if it were possible to behold an incorporeal essence, I would have shown you how the greater number are snoring, while the devil breaks through the walls, slaughters those who lie there, and steals away the things within—doing everything with impunity, as in deep darkness.

Or rather, if it is impossible to behold this with the eyes, let us sketch it out with words, and consider how many are weighed down by evil lusts, how many are held fast by the grievous stupor of licentiousness, quenching the light of the Spirit.

It is for this reason that they see one thing instead of another, hear one thing instead of another, and give heed to nothing of what is said here.

But if I lie in saying these things, and you stand awake, tell me: what has taken place here today, unless you have heard it as though it were dreams? And indeed I know that some will say—

for I do not say these things against all;

but you who are guilty of what has been said, who have come in here to no purpose, tell me: what prophet, what apostle discoursed to us today, and concerning what?

But you would not be able to tell;

for indeed you discoursed of many things here as in a dream, without hearing the true realities.

And let these things be said by me to the women also;

for among them too the sleep is deep.

For he who sleeps utters nothing, whether evil or good;

but he who is awake as you are casts forth many words, and that to the hurt of his own head—reckoning up interest, framing calculations of loans, mindful of shameless huckstering, planting thick thorns in his own soul, and never allowing the seed to peep forth even a little.

But arise, and pluck up these thorns by the roots, and shake off your drunkenness;

and by drunkenness I mean not only that from wine, but also that from the cares of this life, and along with these that which comes from wine as well.

And these things I urge not upon the rich only, but also upon the poor, and most of all upon those who get up their convivial drinking-parties.

For this is not luxury nor relaxation, but chastisement and punishment;

for luxury is to speak no shameful thing, but to utter what is seemly, to be satisfied, not to be burst asunder.

But if you count this a pleasure, show me the pleasure in the evening;

and as yet I say nothing of the harms that come from it, but for the present I discourse to you concerning the pleasure that withers away straightway;

for no sooner is the drinking-party broken up than the gladness has flown away.

But when I mention also the vomiting, and the heaviness of head, and the countless diseases, and the captivity of the soul, what will you say to these? Are we bound to behave unseemly just because we are poor? Now I say these things not to forbid your meeting together, nor your dining in common, but to forbid your behaving unseemly, and desiring that luxury be luxury indeed, and not chastisement, nor punishment, nor drunkenness, nor revelling.

Let the Greeks learn that Christians above all know how to take their delight, and to take their delight with decorum.

For 'Rejoice,' he says, 'in the Lord with trembling.'

And how is it possible to rejoice? By saying hymns, by making prayers, by introducing psalms in place of those unseemly songs.

Thus will Christ also be present at your table, and will fill the whole feast with blessing, when you pray, when you sing spiritual songs, when you invite the poor to share in what is set before you, when you establish much good order and self-restraint over the banquet;

so will you make the place a church, singing praise to the Lord of all in place of the unseasonable shouts and acclamations.

And do not tell me that a different custom has prevailed, but set right the things that are amiss.

'For whether you eat,' he says, 'or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.'

For indeed it is from such tables that your evil lusts come, hence your acts of licentiousness, hence wives are held in contempt among you, while harlots are held in honour;

hence the overthrow of households, and the countless evils, and everything has been turned upside down; and forsaking the pure fountain, you run to the sewer that is upon the mire.

For that the harlot's body is mire I ask no other witness, but you yourself who wallow in the mire—if you do not blush for yourself, if you do not consider yourself unclean after the sin.

Wherefore, I beseech you, flee fornication, and its mother, drunkenness;

Why do you sow where it is not possible to reap? or rather, where even if you reap, the fruit brings you much shame? For even if a child be born, it both shames you and is itself wronged through you, becoming base-born and of ignoble stock.

And though you leave him countless riches, he is without honour in the house, without honour in the city, without honour in the court of justice—both he who is born of a harlot and he who is born of a slave;

and you yourself are again without honour, both living and dead;

for even if you depart this life, the memorials of your shameful deed remain.

Why then do you bring disgrace upon everything?

Why do you sow where the field is eager to destroy the fruit? where there are many drugs to prevent birth? where there is murder before the birth? For you do not even allow the harlot to remain merely a harlot, but you make her also a murderess.

Do you see how from drunkenness comes fornication, from fornication adultery, from adultery murder? or rather, something even worse than murder;

for I know not even what to call it;

For it does not merely destroy the child once born, but even prevents its coming to birth at all.

What then? Do you insult the gift of God, and war against His laws, and pursue as a blessing that which is a curse, and make the storehouse of birth into a storehouse of slaughter, and prepare for murder the woman who was given for the bearing of children? For in order that she may always be serviceable and desirable to her lovers, and may draw more silver, she does not even shrink from doing this, heaping thereby a great fire upon your head.

For though the deed be hers, yet the cause of it becomes yours.

Hence also come idolatries.

For many women, in order to make themselves pleasing, contrive incantations and libations and love-charms and ten thousand other things.

Yet nevertheless, after such shameful conduct, after murders, after idolatries, to many the matter seems a thing of no consequence—yes, even to many who have wives.

And there the heap of evils is even greater.

For then sorceries too are set in motion—not against the harlot's womb, but against the wife who has been wronged—and countless plots, and summonings of demons, and necromancies, and daily wars, and truceless battles, and quarrels bred within the household.

Wherefore Paul also, having said, 'Not in chambering and wantonness,' added, 'not in strife and jealousy.'

—wars, the overturnings of households, wrongs done to well-born children, and countless evils.

That therefore we may escape all these things, let us put on Christ, and let us be with Him continually.

For this too is to put Him on: never to be parted from Him, and that He may be seen everywhere in us through our holiness, through our gentleness.

So too we say of friends, 'So-and-so has put on such a one,' meaning their great love and their unceasing fellowship.

For he who has put on a garment is seen as that very thing which he has put on.

Let Christ therefore be seen in us on every side.

And how shall He be seen? If you do the things that are His.

And what did He do? 'The Son of Man,' He says, 'has nowhere to lay His head.'

When food was to be partaken of, He made use of barley loaves.

When He had to travel, there were nowhere horses or beasts of burden, but He walked so far that He even grew weary.

When He needed to sleep, He lay upon a pillow at the stern.

When He had to recline, He bade them lie down upon the grass.

And in many places He passed His time alone, drawing no one after Him.

And having learned thoroughly the things upon the cross, and the things amid the insults, and all things in a word, be zealous to imitate them.

And thus you will have put on Christ, if you make not provision for the flesh, to fulfil its lusts.

For the thing has not even pleasure in it.

For these lusts in turn beget others yet more fierce, and you will never reach satiety, but will only work great torment for yourself.

For just as the man who is perpetually in thirst, though he have ten thousand fountains set beside him, gains nothing thereby, being unable to quench his malady;

so too is he who lives perpetually in lusts.

But if you keep within the bounds of need, you will never take on this fever, but all those things will depart—drunkennesses and wantonnesses.

Eat therefore only so much as to loose hunger; wear only such things as suffice to cover you; and do not deck out the flesh with garments, lest you destroy it.

For you thereby make it more effeminate, and mar its good condition, dissolving it by much softness.

In order, therefore, that you may have it as a good vehicle for the soul, that the pilot may sit securely at the tiller, and the soldier may wield his weapons with ease, make all things well-fitted.

For it is not the having much, but the needing little, that makes men impregnable.

For the one, even if he suffer no wrong, is afraid;

but the other, even if he be wronged, will be better disposed than those who have suffered no wrong, and for this very reason will be in greater cheerfulness.

Let us not then seek this—how no one may do us despite—but rather how, even should one wish to do us despite, he may not be able.

And this will come from no other source than from cleaving to what is needful, and not desiring more.

For thus shall we be able both to live in delight here, and to attain unto 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, honour, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.