與狄奧多西辯論 第 1 章 第 8/10 段

and that he might receive from the Judge and Savior of all an equal recompense for what he practiced here beforehand.

For a pure disposition toward those who have grieved them is necessary for both, for their own advantage;

for the sake of all things — though not according to the meaning conveyed at this point, but according to the force of the remaining words, which run as follows:

'And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.'

and he will be handed over, by a just judgment, both to temptation and to the evil one;

so that he may learn to be cleansed of offenses, by taking away his own reproaches against others.

By 'temptation' here he means the law of sin;

which the first man did not have when he came into being;

and by 'the evil one' he means the devil, who kneaded this law into the nature of men, and who, through deceit, persuaded man to transfer the soul's desire from what was permitted to what was forbidden, and to turn to the transgression of the divine commandment;

the result of which was the casting off of the incorruption that had been given by grace.

Or again, by 'temptation' he means the soul's voluntary complicity with the passions of the flesh;

and by 'the evil one,' the manner that, through operation, completes the passionate disposition;

from neither of these does the righteous Judge exempt the one who does not forgive his debtors their debts;

even if he asks for this merely in bare words through prayer;

but He permits such a one to be defiled by the law of sin, and abandons the one who is harsh and unyielding in gnomic will to be mastered by the evil one;

as one who has preferred the passions of dishonor, of which the devil is the sower, above nature, of which God is the creator.

And indeed, He does not restrain the one who voluntarily disposes himself along with the passions of the flesh, nor does He deliver him from the manner that, through operation, completes the disposition toward them;

because, having judged nature to be inferior to passions that have no true subsistence, he has, through his zeal for these things, been ignorant of nature's true reason.

according to which one had, once moved, to know what is the law of nature, and what is the tyranny of the passions that came to be established — supervening by gnomic choice, not by nature;

and to acquire and preserve the one law, safeguarded by the natural operations, while driving far away that of the gnomic will, and by reason to keep nature, standing in itself, pure and blameless, free from hatred and division;

and again to establish the gnomic will as a companion to nature, introducing absolutely nothing of what the principle of nature does not warrant;

and on this account to remove all hatred, and every division from one's natural kinsman, so that, saying this prayer, one may be heard, and may receive from God a twofold grace instead of a single one: both the forgiveness of past transgressions, and protection and redemption regarding what is to come;

not being permitted to come into temptation, and not being allowed to be enslaved to the evil one, for the sake of one thing: readily forgiving one's neighbors their debts.

Therefore let us too — that, going back a little, I may briefly go over the force of what has been said — if indeed we wish to be delivered from the evil one and not to enter into temptation, believe God, and forgive our debtors their debts;

For if, he says, you do not forgive men their sins, neither will your heavenly Father forgive you;

so that we may not only receive forgiveness for what we have transgressed, but may also conquer the law of sin, not being abandoned to enter into its trial;

and may trample the evil serpent, begetter of this law, from whom we entreat to be delivered;

with Christ, who conquered the world, generaling us, and arming us with the laws of the commandments, and lawfully, through the putting away of the passions, binding nature to itself through love;

and moving our desire insatiably toward himself, who is the bread of life, of wisdom and of knowledge and of righteousness;

manifesting, by our conduct of life, in an aptly imitable manner, the heavenly good-pleasure;

and from there again leading us up to the highest ascent of divine things, toward the Father of lights, and making us partakers of the divine nature, by the participation according to grace of the Spirit, according to which we may be named children of God — that very...

[Hearken, Nilus,] — the very author of this grace, and, according to nature, Son of the Father: him, whole, do we, whole, immaculately embrace, without circumscription;

from whom, and through whom, and in whom we have and shall have our being, and our moving, and our living.

And let the aim of our prayer, looking to this, be the mystery of deification, so that we may know from what sort of persons into what sort of persons the kenosis of the Only-begotten through the flesh has made us;

and from where, to where, he raised up, by the power of a loving hand, those who had received the lowest place of all the universe, into which the weight of sin had thrust us down;

and let us love the more him who has so wisely prepared this salvation for us;

and by what we do, let us show the prayer fulfilled, and let us appear proclaiming God truly, according to grace, as Father;

but let us not, through the passions of dishonor, be plainly shown to have as father of our life the evil one who ever attempts to lord it tyrannically over nature, nor unwittingly exchange life for death;

since each of the two, of the things that belong to him —

namely, God, and the devil — is by nature accustomed to make impartation to those who draw near;

the one, granting eternal life to those who love him;

the other, working death in those who draw near, by the instigation of voluntary temptations.

The one is pleasurable, the other painful;

and the one is voluntary, the other involuntary.

And the one is the begetter of sin, into which — according to the teaching of the Lord — we have been commanded to pray not to enter, as he says:

"And lead us not into temptation."

And, "Watch and pray, that you may not enter into temptation;"

the other, the punisher of sin, chastises the sin-loving disposition through the involuntary infliction of pains;

which if anyone endures — and especially one not pierced by the nails of wickedness — he shall hear the great James expressly crying out:

"Count it all joy, my brethren, when you fall into various temptations, for the testing of your faith produces endurance;"

"and let the trial have its perfect work."

And the evil one maliciously manages both temptations, the voluntary and the involuntary;

the one, by sowing and inciting the soul with the pleasures of the body, contriving to remove the desire from divine love;

and the other he sophistically demands, wishing to corrupt nature through pain, so that he may force the soul, cast down by the weakness of its sufferings, to move its reasonings toward blasphemy of the Creator.

But we, having come to know the devices of the evil one, let us pray against the voluntary temptation, so that we may not remove our desire from divine love;

but let us nobly endure the involuntary temptation that comes upon us by God's permission, so that we may appear to have preferred, above nature, the Creator of nature.

And may it be that all of us, calling upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, be redeemed from the present pleasures of the evil one, through participation in the substantial realization — in visible form — of the good things to come, which has been made manifest to us in Christ himself our Lord, who alone, together with the Father and the Holy Spirit, is glorified by all creation.

In God, counsel and volition are the same.

"Reason," he says, "being by nature free from praise and blame, renders passionless the one who chooses to live by reason alone;"

and when this reason has become separated from material things, the one who is gentle by settled disposition perceives neither those who praise nor those who blame as if he were affected by them.

By "unequal dispositions" he means the movements of both spiritedness and desire, which shape the soul toward themselves;

of which the disciple of Christ must be free;

neither slipping toward pleasures through the diffusion of the blood around the heart, nor being driven mad with anger through the seething of the blood around the heart.

Namely, of the Greek and Jewish discourses;

of which in Christ there is absolutely none.

For the doctrine of Christ is equally free from polyarchy, and from a monarchy circumscribed in a single person.

For not according to generation, or procession, that is, manifestation...

How can one forgive debtors their debts?

Divine justice is fittingly applied to the dispositions of our souls, becoming for us of such a kind as we have made ourselves toward one another;

and rendering God to us to be such as we ourselves have already disposed ourselves to be toward those who share the same sufferings as us.

"The principle of nature," he says, "becomes also the law of nature, when it receives the gnomic will in concord for the operation of the natural powers."

And the life of all who have conducted themselves according to God is profitable and beneficial;

inasmuch as it exhorts to virtue, and whets one toward the imitation of what is good;

but that of the divine Maximus, the confessor, in as much as he is great and renowned in all respects, by so much is it more effective for anointing one unto courage, and most excellent of all for benefiting the soul.

For that man had not only a life surpassing nature, but also delightful discourse, and a noble and unrivaled contest;

whose mere memory alone is known to bring much delight, and instills a great love of virtue into souls that love God. Whence also the present discourse, being about to speak the things concerning him, both wishes and greatly desires to set forth into the midst and present each of the things done by him;

so that it itself might become more pleasant by the memory of these things, and might lay up great favor for those who hear;

but it has no way either to comprehend all things together, or to utter, of the things it does comprehend, the praise owed for them, since even the least of the things accomplished by this wondrous man happens to be beyond the power of speech.

Therefore, that it is neither easy for discourse, nor readily accomplished, to go through absolutely everything — this too I think I may reasonably pass over;

being in no way at all blamed for the omission;

since not even any other of those before us, as far as we ourselves are aware, applied himself to absolutely all the deeds of the man, evidently because he saw the undertaking to be difficult and hard to attain. So then, in order that we may not appear to be entirely passing over so great a subject, and lest — because it is not possible for us to attain the whole — we should omit the whole, which I think would be inexpedient, and not free from blame;

it is therefore necessary for me to bring forth the present discourse, even though I know it to be very slight, and to fall far short of the actual deeds.

For thus I might both fulfill what falls to me, and discharge to you the debt — you, who, if anything else, exact without excuse the discourse concerning him.

And if the discourse should, in the meantime, also recall to mind certain other things done at that time, this is nevertheless not at all outside the discourse, nor beyond what is fitting;

but let us, then, as far as possible, narrate from the beginning the things concerning this holy man, on whose account we have already undertaken this discourse.

To Maximus, then, the divine and confessor, his fatherland was the first and great of cities, Constantinople;

which tradition also knows to call New Rome.

And his parents were nobly born from of old, and in worldly renown second to few;

for whom piety was their special distinction, and their inclination and devotion toward virtue,

so that they might thereby bring upon themselves distinction rather from this than from their lineage.

These same parents, having brought this blessed man into the light, and having brought him, while his body was still quite young, to the divine washing, so that he might receive purification from infancy, permitted him none of the things that give pleasure to the young, nor allowed his mind to occupy itself with such infantile and childish matters;

lest his unformed and tender nature be drawn toward laxity and softness of character;

but forming this noble child by sterner and more manly discipline, they instilled in him a strong inclination toward the good, and persuaded him to incline wholly toward virtue.

He himself, having obtained a favorable nature, and having received such an upbringing, even while still young had within him the first sketches of virtue, like certain shadows and outlines depicting, not dimly, what was to come;

and he had more precise forms and features of this virtue, as his age advanced further and his mind acquired a settled steadiness;

at which time one could see that his reason, his understanding, and everything together were directed in him toward what is better and more perfect.

And when he attended teachers, being concerned, as is fitting, with every kind of education, what need is there even to say how much knowledge he gathered for himself within a short time?

having most diligently practiced grammar and the rest of general education, and having reached the very summit of rhetoric and the art of speaking, and having listened to philosophy so studiously that he allowed no one to draw even slightly near him,

For employing a diligence that rivaled his natural talent, he was proficient in all subjects, and exceptionally so;

and he made use of each of these, which not infrequently contributed to his advancement toward better things.

But philosophy and the discourses arising from it he cherished and loved more greatly, and set it before all the rest.

For he knew that it was both knowledge and science of beings, that it occupied itself with contemplation and with practice, that it treated of nature and the cosmos, and that it simply imparted everything else besides;

to this he devoted the greater part of his effort, and kept it always in mind;

yet not in a haphazard or unreasoned manner;

but having set aside and cast far away the sophistic part of it, and whatever pertains to deception and false reasoning, he approved and made his own the part concerned with reasoned discourses and doctrines, and other logical methods and demonstrations.

For what had he to do with a false premise, and the weaving of spurious syllogisms, and such a conclusion, and whatever else corrupts true wisdom?

For it was far from being the case—one might even say—that he ever cared for such a thing, or that it was tolerable for him to incline his mind even a little toward anything that others wrongly labor at.

Indeed, all held him in wonder, possessing as he did such knowledge, such virtue, and yet more moderation and humility still;

whom indeed nothing that exists ever puffed up, nor persuaded to think more highly of himself—not the glory of his lineage, not his surpassing excellence in learning over all others, not the height of his virtue, nor anything else at all among all things;

but he was so devoted to moderation that he regarded this alone as the dignity and boast of his life, and took more pride in it than if someone had granted him all human glory together at once.

But indeed it was not possible for this admirable man, living in such a way, to remain hidden, nor for the common benefit not to become manifest also to others;

even though he did many things daily so as to flee empty glory, and not be caught up in the vicissitudes of life;

for he considered even coming into close contact with these things a great obstacle to virtue.

But even though he himself both intended and acted in this way, nevertheless he was caught even against his will;

the emperor then reigning (this was Heraclius), having summoned him to the palace with every goodwill, and having appointed him first secretary of the imperial records;

and he made use of him, as befits so great a man and one of so great a house, in all matters at hand, and possessed him as minister and helper in the noblest affairs.

For this man was most sagacious in discerning what was needed, most skillful in offering counsel, and most fittingly ready in extemporizing speech;

in whose company both the emperor himself and those about the palace took great delight, and were continually amazed at the man.

But he himself, accounting these things—philosophy aside—small: glory, and wealth, and honor, and whatever pertains to excessive ambition—

and especially seeing the faith then being subjected to innovation, in that the doctrine of the Monothelites was grievously ravaging the Church, left everything behind, considering that to associate with such people was, as it were, a defilement of the soul;

and he zealously turned to the solitary life, since he had long desired to live in quietude, giving himself to the monastery on the opposite shore, which is named after Chrysopolis, then flourishing in philosophy;

and there, having his hair shorn, and putting on the garment of hair-cloth;

he who indeed from that time continually wore down his body, employing not only fasting and other hardship already, but also devoting himself to standing all night and to intense prayer, thereby raising up the uprightness of his soul, drawing his mind away from matter, and loosening the bond even before its dissolution.

For he who, even before this more exact life, was accustoming himself to struggles and labors, and pursuing the philosophical way of life, would hardly, after entering fully into these disciplines, have chosen or done anything different.

Indeed, having many fellow ascetics, he surpassed them all, and had wondrously won the first place over all.

who indeed were so overcome by his virtue that they even sent a joint delegation to him, earnestly begging him to preside over them and to take up the leadership over them;

for a short while before, they had lost their own abbot.

But he, pushing away the office as though it were some burdensome encumbrance, was unyielding regarding their request and firm in his resolve;

neither yielding to their words, nor giving way to their entreaties.

But when he saw them pressing more insistently, and even adding a measure of force, he was persuaded with difficulty, and accepted the office of oversight;

considering it not so much a position of rule as an accountable ministry.

From this, indeed, he became even more full of concern, and was anxious about everything;

not looking only to his own affairs, nor merely to how he himself might live most excellently;

but how he might profitably guide the life of those under him, and lead them to lay hold of a better way of conduct.

For he perceived within himself that for those who pursue virtue by themselves alone, it is altogether possible, as seems fit to them, to choose the greater or lesser among the things to be done;

and one might forgive such persons for not doing the great things.

But for the one entrusted with the guidance of souls, and who relaxes even a little of his exactness, there will be no ordinary danger, both for himself and for those under him;

who ought not only to be excellent, but also always to advance beyond what has gone before;

if indeed he is going to lead those under his hand, by his own example, toward what is better, since they look upon his life as an archetype, and are thereby led either toward virtue, or, on the contrary, toward vice.

Considering these things, Maximus was consumed in soul;

he further wasted away what remained of his flesh;

he was overwhelmed with anxious cares for his disciples;

and at one time delivering his teaching gently and without sting;

and at another time bringing it forth stern and unpleasant, according as he saw each one disposed either by habit or by nature.

And he himself was thus disposed toward those under him, and with such a disposition he carried out the oversight of them.

But when he saw, as we said above, that the heresy of the Monothelites was then extending more and more toward completion, and was terribly increasing day by day at the hands of the champions of impiety;

he groaned and was seized with the heaviest grief, pitying most of all even those who committed these unlawful acts;

but he did not know what he himself might do, since the evil had thus poured out beyond measure, and had all but seized the whole East and the West.

Wherefore, amid such great evils, he found this alone to be beneficial, both for himself and for the situation:

for since he knew that elder Rome remained free of such defilement, as did the church in Africa, and that in other places and in the surrounding islands there as well;

leaving the affairs here, he journeyed there, in order to lend support to the true doctrine, and to join with the orthodox there;

having accomplished so great a journey not without exertion, nor without toil and hardship;

yet nevertheless he reckoned all these as less than his noble zeal;

perhaps having also taken counsel, concerning his departure, with the monks who were with him;

and even if the separation from them was heavy and scarcely bearable, yet he had no other course but to do what had been resolved, since the moment pressed him hard and permitted only his departure.

But indeed our narrative, having run ahead of itself, has omitted to relate what came in between, and whence this wicked and abominable opinion took its origin—the opinion that so disturbed the Church, and dragged many down into a like fall.

It is therefore necessary to discourse a little concerning it;

and then thus to add to our account whatever else follows on the subject.

When Heraclius held the scepters of the empire, and Sergius administered the throne of Constantinople;

at first Heraclius himself, and as many as were around the palace and as many as held office and dignity, happened to assent to the orthodox faith;

confessing and proclaiming two natures, and likewise two energies and wills, in the divine and human [natures] of my Christ;

After many trophies won against the enemies, and that famous, glorious feat of arms against the Persians, when the right doctrine was changed, the affairs of the Churches also began to change along with it;

no small portion of the people also having turned to the opposite side.

The cause of the emperor's change was that Athanasius, the one called patriarch of the Jacobites;

a deceiving impostor of a man, and most skilled of all at confounding the truth.

For this man, approaching Heraclius while he resided in Hierapolis of Syria, and insidiously and maliciously working his way into his favor, and enticing him besides with promises — namely that he would also accept the council of Chalcedon, or that he professed the two natures united according to hypostasis (for Heraclius had a desire, as the facts showed, to bring both Athanasius himself — to whom he also promised to give the throne of Antioch — and all the others, no doubt, whom he saw not agreeing, into union with that council) —

though, out of simplicity and levity of mind, in addition to drawing no one over to his side, he only smeared himself with the false doctrine.

This man, then, as has been said, Athanasius having subtly won over by various means, settled him — already somewhat wavering — into doubt concerning the twofold energies and wills of the two natures;

on account of which he also persuades him to refer the matters that had been decided to Sergius of Constantinople;

and [declaring] that whatever should seem good to them, that he too would concur with.

For the perverse man knew that both of them held fast to the one energy and the one will.

When Heraclius summoned Cyrus to himself, and by letters informed the patriarch about the matters that had been decided, he found both of them alike cherishing the monothelite doctrine, and moreover agreeing, without any hesitation, to think the same things as Athanasius;

then indeed he became wholly of the opposite party — of the "will-less" will, one might rather say, than of the "mono-thelite" one.

And indeed he quickly also communicated to the bishop of Rome the things that had been made dogma;

as though he thought he would be doing wrong if he did not also fill those everywhere on earth with his own leaven, and impart to them the pestilent heresy.

But this divine man [the bishop of Rome], plainly recognizing that what came from him [Heraclius] was deceit;

and being indignant at the base false doctrine, not only refutes and overturns the things proposed, by counter-writings and powerful counter-arguments;

but also encompasses with anathema those who hold and cherish those doctrines.

But this profited Heraclius nothing, inasmuch as he had received the evil not superficially, but deeply;

who shortly afterward hastened also to fill Alexandria with this same pollution, sending the like-minded Cyrus there as bishop, so that Alexandria too might think the same things and be ruined.

Indeed Cyrus, having come to speak with Theodore, bishop of Pharan, who strongly sided with the Monothelites, then made with him the so-called "water-tinted" union;

and I think this signifies a faded and watery dye, as it were mixed together and indiscernible, preserving neither of the two colors purely;

so that it might be entirely possible for them too, in whichever way they might wish, to muddle, confound, and blend together the energy that was being made into dogma;

making it neither single nor double, nor — which would indeed be the true thing to say — even "neither of the two," such that what it truly is could be either conceived or named.

But these men — as they themselves at least imagined, and as they persuaded those who had been deceived — having ratified the one energy and the one natural will, gave occasion to both the Jacobites and to those of the party of Theodosius to boast themselves against our faith, and to hold up the council of Chalcedon to laughter and mockery;

who also, with malicious intent, alleged that Chalcedon itself was seen to follow their own teaching, and to hold fast to the one nature;

and this, they said, was clear from the fact that it also professes the one energy;

which, as they claim, it would not otherwise have done, had it not been overawed by the true doctrine, and come to a more complete understanding of it.

But since, at that time, Sophronius was entrusted with the throne of Jerusalem, a man shining forth in piety and virtue;

there gathered around him as many as were of the priesthood and orthodox, denouncing along with him, and encompassing with anathema, those who glorified one natural energy in Christ and one will;

while praising and proclaiming those who, alongside the two natures, confessed and upheld also the twofold energies together with the corresponding wills.

This holy man, wishing also to set forth more fully still what had been expounded, made known his views on these matters, severally, also to John of Rome (for that was his name), and to Sergius of Constantinople, and indeed also to Cyrus of Alexandria;

the latter [two], rebuking and greatly reproaching them for their doctrine;

but the other — John — as was fitting, praising, and crowning him with countless encomia.

When the emperor Heraclius gave ear to these things, he fell into fear and anguish;

being inwardly agitated and shifting within himself, and not knowing to what he might exchange the newly-innovated doctrine;

being ashamed, perhaps, of the recency of the change, and the sudden shift to the opposite position.

Indeed, he broke away from both parties — I mean those professing the two energies, and those professing the one;

this the detestable Sergius also suggested to him, knowing him to be pliable in all things and easily led;

and besides, fearing lest he should see him wholly torn away from their own faction, and for this reason permitting the emperor to act, in a rather clumsy manner, according to his own will.

Hence, indeed, Heraclius, delighting in what had happened as in an unexpected windfall, confirms the absurdity both by written formularies and by the so-called Edict;

which, when those who held the views of Severus saw it thus set down in writing, they cast mockeries at it, not only at home and among themselves, but even in taverns and public baths, uttering these things with unrestrained mouth: "Formerly the Chalcedonians, holding the views of Nestorius (so they called us, even though we had in fact rejected the teachings of that man), have now sobered up and abstained from thinking wrongly, having been united with us, through the one energy, into the one nature of Christ;

but now, having condemned what was rightly held, they have lost both, confessing in Christ neither two natures nor one."

One could then see confusion and turmoil in the Churches, because both shepherds and peoples had turned foolish, both rulers and the ruled;

there being none who understood, nor any who sought after the Lord.