論真福（八福講道） 第 1 章 第 5/6 段

For the addition of 'without cause' shows the seasonable use of wrath is often fitting, whenever the passion boils up for the chastisement of sin.

This kind of anger the word of Scripture testified of beforehand in the case of Phinehas, when by the slaying of the transgressors he propitiated the threat of God that had been stirred up against the people.

Again He passes with His remedy to the things offended in through pleasure, and takes away from the heart the improper desire of adultery through the precept.

So too you will find the Lord in what follows setting all things right one by one, standing firm with His legislations against each of the forms of evil.

He forbids the beginning of unjust hands, in that He does not even allow one to defend oneself.

He sets a bound beyond the passion of covetousness, by commanding that one strip oneself for him who takes away, and hand over even what is left.

He heals cowardice, being commanded to hold death in contempt. And in short, through each of the precepts you will find, after the manner of a plough, the ploughing word digging up the wicked roots of sins from the depth of our heart, through which it is possible to be cleansed of the thorny fruitfulness.

Therefore through both He benefits our nature: both in the things wherein He promises the good, and in the things wherein He sets before us the teaching toward that which lies before us.

But if the pursuit of good things seems to you toilsome, compare it with the opposite life, and you will find how much more toilsome evil is—if you look not to the present, but to what comes after.

For he who has heard of Gehenna will no longer be separated from the pleasures of sin by any toil or diligence;

but the fear alone, coming to be in his reasonings, will suffice to banish the passions.

Rather, it is well, having apprehended that which is understood together with what is passed over in silence, thereby to take a more vehement desire.

For if blessed are the pure in heart, altogether pitiable are those who are defiled in mind;

because they look toward the countenance of the adversary.

And if the divine character itself is imprinted upon the life lived according to virtue, it is clear that the life lived according to vice becomes the form and countenance of the adversary.

But indeed, if according to various conceptions God is named after each of the things conceived as good—light, and life, and incorruption, and whatever is of such a kind—

[then the adversary is named after] death and corruption, and whatever is of the same kind and family as these.

Therefore, having learned by what means both vice and the life according to virtue are given form, and authority for either of these lying before us according to the self-determination of the will, let us flee the form of the devil, let us put off the wicked mask, let us take up the divine image, let us become pure in heart, that we may become blessed, when the divine image has been formed in us through a pure manner of life, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory unto the ages of ages.

'For they shall be called sons of God.'

Of the sacred tabernacle of the testimony, which the lawgiver constructed for the Israelites according to the pattern shown him by God on the mountain, all things, each and every one, were holy and sacred—as many as were enclosed within by the surrounding hangings;

but the innermost part among these was inaccessible and untrodden, called the Holy of Holies;

this intensifying coinage of a name showing, I think, that that place too did not partake of holiness on an equal footing with the others;

but that, by as much as the consecrated and holy differed from the common and profane, by so much was that inaccessible place more sacred and purer than the holy things around it.

I think, then, that in the same manner, of the beatitudes here set before us on this mountain, all things, each and every one, are sacred and holy—

as many as the divine word constructed in what went before;

But that which now lies before our contemplation is, in truth, a sanctuary unapproachable, the very Holy of Holies.

For if to see God has no surpassing measure of good beyond it, then to become a son of God is assuredly above all felicity.

For what invention of words, what significance drawn from names, could comprehend the gift of so great a promise? Whatever one may conceive in the mind, that which is signified is assuredly beyond it.

If you should call good, or precious, or lofty that which is set before us through the promise of this beatitude, that which is signified is more than the impression conveyed by such names.

The attainment surpasses prayer, the gift surpasses hope, the grace surpasses nature.

What is man when judged in relation to the divine nature? Whose word among the saints shall I cite, by which the human is set at naught? According to Abraham, earth and ashes;

for one says, 'All flesh is grass';

according to Ecclesiastes, vanity;

according to Paul, wretchedness.

For by the names with which the Apostle designated himself, by these the whole of humanity is bewailed.

But what of God? How shall I tell what He is, whom it is not possible to see, nor for the hearing to contain, nor for the heart to grasp? By what utterances shall I proclaim that nature? What example of this Good shall I find among things known? What new words shall I coin to signify the ineffable and unutterable? I have heard the God-inspired Scripture setting forth great things concerning the transcendent nature;

but what are these compared with the nature itself? For as much as I was able to receive, so much did the word declare, not as much as that which is signified truly is.

For just as those who breathe the air, each according to the capacity within himself, one takes in more, another less of the air;

yet he who has held much air within himself has not made the whole element to be within him, but even he took from the whole as much as he was able, and it remains the whole;

so also the theologies of Holy Scripture, set forth to us by those borne along in inspiration by the Holy Spirit, are, in relation to the measure of our understanding, exalted and great and beyond all magnitude;

yet they do not attain to the true magnitude,

of Him who truly is. For it was but a part of the divine energy that the prophetic word displayed in such lofty declarations;

but the very power from which the energy proceeds—not to speak of the nature from which the power proceeds—it neither spoke of nor attempted to speak of.

Nay, it even rebukes in its word those who liken the Divine by means of certain conjectures, treating of this matter as though from the person of God:

'To whom have you likened Me?' says the Lord.

The like counsel Ecclesiastes also lays down in his own words: 'Be not hasty to utter a word before the face of God;

for God is in heaven above, and you are on the earth below';

showing, I think, through the distance of the elements from one another, by how great a measure the divine nature is exalted above earthly reasonings.

Yet with this thing, so great and of such kind, which it is not possible to see, nor to hear, nor to reckon, man—who has been reckoned as nothing among existing things, the ashes, the grass, the vanity—is made kin, being taken up by the God of all into the rank of a son.

What can be found worthy of thanksgiving for this grace? What utterance, what thought, what movement of reflection, by which one might hymn the surpassing measure of the grace? Man goes forth beyond his own nature: from mortal becoming immortal, from perishable incorruptible, from ephemeral eternal, and altogether becoming god out of man.

For he who has been counted worthy to become a son of God will assuredly have in himself the dignity of the Father, and becomes heir of all the Father's good things.

How great are the gifts from the treasuries of things unspeakable!

Almost to equality of honour with Himself does He, out of His love for man, raise the nature that had been dishonoured by sin.

For if He bestows upon men kinship with that which He Himself is according to nature,

what else does He promise through this kinship than a certain equality of honour? Such, then, is the prize.

But what is the contest? 'If you make peace,' He says, 'you shall be crowned with the grace of this theme.'

It seems to me that even the work for which so great a reward is promised is itself another gift.

For what, toward the enjoyment of the things eagerly pursued in life, is sweeter to men than a peaceful life? Whatever pleasant thing in life you may name, its being pleasant has need of peace.

For though there be all things that are prized in life—wealth, good health, a wife, children, a house, parents, servants, friends;

land and sea, each enriching with its own products;

parks, hunting grounds, baths, wrestling schools, gymnasia;

places of luxury and of youthful sport;

and all things that are the inventions of pleasure;

let there be added to these the pleasant spectacles and the musical entertainments;

and whatever else there is by which life is made sweet for those who live in luxury.

If all these should be present, yet the good of peace be lacking, what profit is there in those things, when war cuts short the enjoyment of the good things? Therefore this peace is both pleasant to those who partake of it, and sweetens all the things prized in life.

But even if we should suffer some misfortune, as belongs to the human lot, while at peace, the evil, being mingled with good, becomes more bearable to those who suffer it;

but when war grips our life, we become in a manner insensible to such occasions of grief.

For the common calamity surpasses in painfulness the sufferings of each individual.

And just as the physicians say concerning bodily afflictions, that if two pains should fall together at once in one body, only the more severe one comes to be felt;

and the pain of the lesser evil somehow escapes notice, being stolen away by the onset of the prevailing one;

so the evils of war, surpassing in their grievousness, make each individual insensible to his own particular misfortunes.

The dead trodden underfoot, the wounded left behind, and all the bitter calamities that are found among the sufferings of war—can he who is in the midst of these ever bend his reasoning toward the memory of anything that gladdens? And if some memory of pleasant things should chance to steal upon the soul,

does not the recollection of things most dear, stealing upon the reasoning in the time of dangers, become an added burden of misfortune? Therefore He who gives you the reward, if you should be delivered from the evils of war, has bestowed on you two gifts.

For one gift is the prize;

and the other gift is the contest itself.

So that even if nothing were laid up for such a one in the way of hope, peace of itself, for its own sake, would be more worthy of all zeal to those at least who have understanding.

In this, then, one may recognize the surpassing measure of His love for man: that He has bestowed the good recompenses not through toils and sweat, but in a manner through comforts and gladness of heart;

if indeed the chief of things that gladden is peace, which He wills to be present to each in such measure that not only should each himself possess it, but out of the great abundance should also distribute it to those who have it not.

'For blessed,' He says, 'are the peacemakers.'

And a peacemaker is one who gives peace to another;

but no one could furnish to another that which he himself does not possess.

He wills, therefore, that you first be full of the good things of peace, and then in this manner extend it to those who are in want of such a possession.

And let not the discourse overly busy itself with the contemplation of what lies in the depths;

for even the ready and obvious meaning is sufficient for us unto the acquisition of good.

The word bestows in brief the healing of many maladies, embracing, through this comprehensive and more general utterance, the particular cases. Let us first consider what peace is.

What else than a loving disposition of harmony toward one's kindred? What, then, is conceived as contrary to love? Hatred, wrath, anger, envy, the harbouring of grievances, hypocrisy, the calamity of war.

Do you see against how many and what kinds of maladies this single utterance is an antidote? For peace is set in equal opposition against each of the things mentioned, and by its own presence works the abolition of the evil. For as, when health takes hold, disease vanishes, and when light appears, darkness does not remain;

so also, when peace appears, all the passions that are constituted from its contrary are dissolved.

How great a good this is, I think the discourse need in no way itself set forth at length;

you have reckoned within yourself of what sort is the life of those who hold one another in suspicion and hatred, whose meetings are hard to bear, and to whom all things belonging to one another are abominable;

their mouths voiceless, and their glances turned away;

and the ear stopped against the voice of him who hates and of him who is hated.

Everything is dear to each of them which is not dear to the other;

and on the contrary, everything is hostile and hateful which is agreeable to the adversary.

Just as fragrant spices fill the surrounding air with their own sweet scent,

so too He wills that the grace of peace should overflow in you in abundance, so that your very life becomes a remedy for another's disease.

How great a good this is you would recognize more precisely by reckoning up the calamities of each of those sufferings that arise in the soul from an ill-disposed will.

Who could recount as they deserve the passions of anger? What discourse could portray the unseemliness of such a disease? You behold the sufferings of the demon-possessed appearing in those who are mastered by wrath.

Consider side by side the symptoms of the demon and of wrath, and what difference there is between them.

The eye of the demon-possessed is bloodshot and distorted, the tongue raves, the utterance is harsh, the voice sharp and like a dog's barking.

These are common both to wrath and to the demon: the shaking of the head, the frenzied movements of the hands, the trembling of the whole body, the restless feet—one and the same of the two maladies displayed through these.

The one differs from the other only in this: that the one is a voluntary evil, while the other befalls unwillingly those in whom it arises.

But to fall into calamity by one's own impulse—how much more pitiable is this than to suffer against one's will? Whoever saw the disease that comes from a demon assuredly had pity;

but the frenzy of wrath—he saw and at the same time imitated, counting it a loss not to surpass in his own passion the one who first fell ill.

And the demon, while it wrenches the body of the passion-stricken man, halts the evil at this point, flinging the madman's hands aimlessly against the air;

but the demon of wrath does not make the movements of the body idle.

For when the passion gains the upper hand, and the blood about the heart boils up—when the black bile, as they say, is scattered everywhere through the body from the wrathful disposition—then, pressed together by the vapors within, all the sense organs about the head are constricted;

the eyes are thrust out beneath the encircling of the eyelids, glaring bloodshot and serpent-like at what vexes them;

the inward parts are gripped with panting;

the veins along the neck swell out, and the tongue thickens;

and the voice, as the windpipe is narrowed, is willfully sharpened;

and the lips, by the undersowing of that cold bile, are stiffened and blackened round about, and become hard to move for their natural opening and closing, so that they cannot even hold back the spittle that gathers abundantly in the mouth, but cast it out along with the words, the forced utterance spitting forth its foam.

Then indeed one may also see the hands set in motion by the disease, and likewise the feet;

but these limbs are moved no longer in vain, as happens in the demon-possessed, but for harm against those who are locked together with one another through the disease.

For at once the assaults of those striking one another are directed against the vital sense organs.

And if in the grappling the mouth should draw near the body, not even the teeth remain unemployed, but like a wild beast they fasten upon whatever they come near.

And who could tell in detail the evils that have their origin in wrath? He, therefore, who prevents such unseemliness would rightly be called blessed and honorable, on account of the greatest benefaction.

For if he who separates a man from some bodily unpleasantness is honored through such a good deed,

how much more shall he who has freed the soul from this disease be reckoned among the sensible as a benefactor of life? For by so much as the soul is superior to the body, by so much more honorable than those who heal bodies is he who cures souls.

And let no one suppose that, of the evils wrought by hatred, I think the unpleasantness of wrath to be the most grievous;

inasmuch as the hidden is also more dangerous than the manifest.

For even among dogs we are more wary of those whose anger no barking announces beforehand, nor any onset upon the face, but who under a gentle and tame appearance lie in wait for us unforeseen and unguarded;

such is the passion that belongs to envy and hypocrisy, in which within, in the depth of the heart, hatred is nourished in secret like some fire, while the outward appearance is fashioned by hypocrisy into that of a friend.

And just as if fire were hidden under chaff, for a while it inwardly smolders and consumes what lies near it, yet no flame breaks out to view, but a certain acrid smoke, violently compressed within, forces its way through;

and if it chance upon some draft of air, then it is fanned into a bright and conspicuous flame;

so also envy inwardly devours the heart, like fire consuming a certain heap packed together like chaff;

and it hides the disease out of shame, yet is not able to conceal it altogether;

but like some acrid smoke, the bitterness from envy shows itself through in the symptoms about the countenance.

And if some calamity should touch the one who is envied, then he makes the disease manifest, making that man's grief into his own gladness and pleasure.

The hidden things of the passion are exposed, so long as it seems to lie concealed, through the manifest tokens about the face:

a fallen face, bones showing through in place of flesh.

And what is the cause of the disease? That a brother, or kinsman, or neighbor lives without dejection.

To make it a grievance that the man is not unfortunate—the man at whose prosperity he is pained;

judging the wrong done to him not from anything evil he himself has suffered at that man's hands, but from the fact that the other, doing no wrong at all, is in circumstances he desires for himself.

“What has befallen you, O wretched man?” I would say to him;

you clasp your fingers together;

you are distressed in your thoughts;

you groan with something deep and painful;

the enjoyment of what you possess is displeasing to you;

your ear is ready for slander against the man who prospers.

But if anything favorable is said of him, your hearing is stopped up against the report.

And being thus disposed in soul, why do you cloak the disease with hypocrisy? How is the mask of friendship shaped upon you through a feigned goodwill? Why do you extend to him fair-sounding greetings, bidding him rejoice and be in health, while in secret you invoke the opposite against his soul? Such was Cain, who raged with fury at the good repute of Abel;

envy from within urged on the murder, and the occasion became the executioner;

for assuming a friendly and affable manner, he led him far from the protection of their parents out into the plain;

then thus he unveiled his envy by the murder.

Blessed, therefore, are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.

Who are these? Those who imitate the divine love for mankind, who display in their own life what is proper to the divine activity.

The Benefactor and Lord of good things utterly abolishes and reduces to non-existence all that is alien and estranged from the good.

This activity He appoints as a law for you also: to cast out hatred, to end war, to make envy vanish, to banish strife, to abolish hypocrisy, to quench within the heart the resentment that smolders in it;

and in place of these to introduce all that is set opposite by the removal of their contraries.

For as, upon the withdrawal of darkness, light comes on, so also in place of each of these there enters in the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, kindness, longsuffering—the whole array of good things enumerated by the Apostle.

How then is the dispenser of divine gifts not blessed? He who imitates the gracious gifts of God? He who conforms his own good deeds to the divine munificence? Yet perhaps the blessing looks not to another's good alone;

but I think that he is properly called a peacemaker who brings the strife within himself, between the flesh and the spirit, and the intestine war of his nature, into a peaceful harmony, when the law of the body, which wars against the law of the mind, is no longer active, but, subjected to the better sovereignty, becomes a servant of the divine commands.

Or rather, let us not suppose that the discourse counsels this—that those who have set their life aright are to be conceived of as in a duality;

but when the middle wall of wickedness in the fence within us is removed, the two, grown together into one by their striving toward the better, become one.

He is believed to be uncompounded and without form when the human element also, through such peacemaking, comes to be outside its twofold composition, and returns exactly to the good, simple and formless and truly become one, so that the visible is the same as the hidden, and the hidden the same as the visible;

then is the blessing truly confirmed, and such men are properly called sons of God, blessed according to the promise of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory unto the ages of ages.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

The order of this lofty teaching of doctrines brings the present contemplation of the text up to the eighth step;

but I say it is well first to consider in our discourse this: what is the mystery of the eighth in the Prophet, prefixed in two psalmodies;

and what the blessing, and the legislation of circumcision, are—both observed by the Law according to the eighth.

Perhaps this number has some kinship with the eighth blessedness,

which, like the summit of all the blessings, lies at the very topmost point of the good ascent.

For there too the Prophet signifies the day of resurrection by the enigma of the eighth, and the purification indicates the return of defiled man to that which is pure and according to nature, and circumcision interprets the casting off of the dead skins which, when stripped naked after the disobedience, we put on instead of life;

and here likewise the eighth blessedness holds the restoration into the heavens of those who had fallen into slavery, yet were again called back out of slavery unto the kingdom.

For 'Blessed,' He says, 'are those who have been persecuted for My sake;'

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Behold the end of the contests waged according to God, the reward of labours, the prize of sweat:

to be counted worthy of the kingdom in the heavens.

No longer does the hope of good fortune stray about that which is unstable and subject to change.

For the earthly region belongs to things that turn and alter;

but of the things that appear and move in the heaven, we perceive none of them to be otherwise than in the self-same manner and unchangingly, but that all things in the heaven traverse their own course with sequence, order, and orderly succession.

Do you see, then, the surpassing greatness of the gift? that He bestows the greatness of the honour not among things that change—as would be the case if any fear of alteration were to disturb the more comforting hopes;

but rather, by saying 'the kingdom of the heavens,' He shows the unchangeableness and ever-selfsame character of the gift set before us in hope.

But that which occurs to me to be perplexed about from what has been said is this:

first, that He assigns to those who have been persecuted for His sake a reward equal to that of the poor in spirit, bringing both to the same standing.

For those whose prize is the same, their contests too are clearly equal;

next, how it is that, when He separates those on the right hand from those on the left and calls them to the kingdom of the heavens, He assigns other causes for such an honour. For there He brings forward compassion, liberality, and mutual love, yet nowhere makes mention either of poverty of spirit or of persecution for His sake;

and yet, at the ready level of thought, these seem widely distinguished from one another.

For what has poverty in common with being persecuted? Or again, what harmony have these with the effects of loving compassion? Someone has fed the needy, or clothed the naked, or received a sheltered wayfarer, or brought such tending as was possible to one who is sick and imprisoned;

what have these in common with being poor and being persecuted, according to the character of the practice? This one tends the misfortunes of others;

he stands in need of those who tend him—yet the end for all is the same.

For alike He leads to heaven both him who has become poor in spirit and him who has been persecuted for His sake, and those who have shown compassion toward their own kind.

What, then, do we say to these things? That all things hold together with one another, converging and breathing as one toward the single aim.

For poverty is well disposed to migration, and love of the poor is not estranged from poverty.

But it seems good to me first to search out the present saying;

and then in this way to consider the harmony and the meaning in the things that have been examined.

Blessed are those who have been persecuted for righteousness' sake.

Persecuted from where, and by whom? Now the ready sense points us to the arena of the martyrs and hints at the course of faith.

For the pursuit interprets the intense eagerness of the runner concerning speed;

or rather, it also intimates the victory in the running.

For it is not possible for a runner to conquer otherwise than by leaving behind him the one who runs with him.

Since, then, both he who runs toward the prize of the upward calling and he who is pursued by the enemy on account of the prize alike have at their backs—the one, his competitor, the other, his pursuer;

and these are they who accomplish the course of martyrdom, in the contests on behalf of godliness, being pursued yet not overtaken;

it seems that the summit of the blessedness set before us in hope He has, as it were, set forth like a crown in the final words.

For blessed indeed is it to be persecuted for the Lord's sake.

For estrangement from the evil one becomes the occasion of appropriation to the good;

and the Good, even beyond every good, is the Lord Himself, to whom the persecuted one runs up.

Therefore truly blessed is he who uses the enemy as a fellow-worker toward the good.

For since human life lies on the border between the good and the worse, just as he who has slipped from the good and lofty hope comes to be in the pit;

so he who has removed himself from sin and become estranged from corruption passes over to righteousness and incorruption.

So that of the persecution brought by the tyrants against the martyrs, the outward form, according to what appears at first sight, is painful to the sense-perception;

but the aim of what takes place surpasses all blessedness.

It would be better for us to discern the meaning of the discourse by way of examples.

Who does not know how much harder it has been judged to be plotted against than to be loved? Yet this thing that seems hard often becomes for many the cause even of good fortune in this life, as the account concerning Joseph shows;