約伯倫理 第 1138 章

Same place. — 'Nor let the multitude of places bend you down.' 79. From original sin arises the restless mutability of man. When he cannot be satisfied by the quality of things, he seeks at least to be satiated by their variety. — For we are bent down in as many places as we are stretched out in superfluous cares. For as a place is the bodily space of a body, so a place of the mind is each single intention of thought. And when this is driven hither and thither, if it is willingly occupied by some delight of thought, it is set as it were in a certain grove that it may rest. For as often as, overcome by weariness, we are led from thought to thought, we migrate as it were with a wearied mind from place to place. So many places therefore bend down the summit of the mind, as there are thoughts arising which dissipate the unity of good intention.

For the mind would stand upright, if it always adhered to the one thought to which it ought. The upright mind would stand, if it did not prostrate itself before innumerable masses with a fluid mutability. But while now it handles these things, now slips away to others, it is bent, as it were through a multitude of places, from the state of its rectitude; and while it extends itself through many things, it casts itself down from the one intention to which it ought to have adhered. Yet this habit of mutability has now, from the vice of the first transgression, come as it were into nature. For while the soul strives to stand in itself, it is somehow, even without knowing, drawn away from itself. For the human soul is removed from each single thing to which it is intent by an impelling weariness.

But while it greedily craves things to be thought upon, and suddenly loathes the things thought, it teaches that it depends from elsewhere, since, placed in whatever thing, it does not find rest. For it is suspended toward Him by whom it was formed. And because it was made to crave God alone, but everything that it craves below is less, rightly that which is not God does not suffice it. Hence it is that it is scattered hither and thither, and is removed, as we said, from each single thing by an impelling weariness. Greedy for delight, it seeks where it may pause, but the one thing which it could have possessed sufficiently, it has lost. Whence now it is led through many things, so that, because it cannot be satiated by the quality of things, it may at least be satiated by their variety. 80. The saints, by cleaving to God, remedy this anxiety. — But the saints

for this cause guard themselves with watchfulness, lest they be mutably dissolved away from their intention; and because they crave to be the same, they carefully bind themselves to the thought by which they love God. For in the contemplation of the Creator they are about to receive this, that they may enjoy the one perpetual stability of the mind. No mutability then dissipates them, because, namely, their thought perseveres ever undissimilar to itself. This therefore they now imitate by striving with labor, which afterward they receive rejoicing as a gift. To which immutability the Prophet had bound himself by the virtue of love, when he said: 'One thing I have asked of the Lord, this will I seek, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord' (Psalm 27:4). To this unity Paul had adhered by intention, saying:

'But one thing: forgetting the things that are behind, and stretching forth to the things that are before, I press toward the palm of the supernal calling of God in Christ' (Philippians 3:13-14). For if anything in their heart flows apart after a human manner, straightway a severe scrutiny restrains it; and when thought slips as it were childishly, it is soon reined in by a youthful coercion. Whence it comes about that they continually gather up the scattered mind, and, as far as they prevail, compose it in one thought. Because therefore the state of the mind is bent by the mutability of thoughts, rightly is it said by Elihu: 'Nor let the multitude of places bend you down.' 81. For those who are thus free for God, elation is to be guarded against.

— But often, while the mind of a just man stands in the very citadel of its intention, while it gathers itself up from all scattering of mutability, while it presses down whatever arises in it from above; it is touched by the very glory of its own rectitude, and is lifted up by the swelling of its own presumption. For he who does great things, although he may think humbly of himself, nevertheless knows that the things he does are great. For if he does not know them to be great, he doubtless keeps them not at all. And while he neglects to keep them, he either profits less in them, or utterly loses them. While therefore it is necessary that we both know and keep our good works, from the very knowledge of them an entrance of elation is opened, and to the heart of the worker a hand of fault is admitted, by which laying waste they may be snatched away.

But by a wondrous dispensation it is brought about that our Creator permits the mind, uplifted by prosperity, to be shaken by a sudden temptation, so that it may see itself more truly in its infirmity, and, from that height which it had assumed concerning its virtues, may descend, now better than itself, from the pride of elation. Whence also well is it now subjoined: