約伯倫理 第 356 章

Verse 6: My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut by the weaver. The time of the flesh is fitly compared to a web. By a very congruous likeness the time of the flesh is compared to a web, because just as the web advances by threads, so mortal life advances by single days; but the more it advances toward increase, the more it tends toward the cutting, because, as we also said above, when the times received pass away, those to come are shortened, and of the whole space of life those that come become the fewer, the more numerous are those that have passed. For the web, bound within and above, is knit to two beams that it may be woven; but the more it is rolled up below when woven, so much the more is it unfolded above for weaving;

And from whatever a thing multiplies toward its increase, from that same source what remains grows less. Just so, without doubt, we roll up the seasons of our life as though beneath us the parts already spent, and unfold from above the parts yet to come; for the more the things past come to be, the less the things future begin to be. But since not even a weaver's web suffices to represent our span of time — for the swiftness of our life outstrips even its haste — it is rightly said now: 'My days have passed more swiftly than the web is cut off by the weaver' (Job 7:6). For the web has the slowness of gradual progress, whereas the present life has no delay in its failing away. For in the web, while the workman's hand is fixed to it, the coming of its finishing is drawn out;

but in this life, because we ceaselessly consume time that is always coming to an end, we arrive at the goal of our journey even while resting, and we go on along the course of our passage even while sleeping. Therefore the elect, because they perceive that the moments of the present life run their course in haste, in no way fix the intention of their heart upon this journey of such great swiftness. Whence it is fittingly added at once (same place): 'And they are consumed without any hope' (Job 7:6). 27. The elect ponder death even when in health; the reprobate do not, even when it is upon them. The mind of the reprobate is bound by so great a love toward the days of the present life that it always longs to go on living here, so that, if it could, it would wish never to bring the course of its living to an end.

For they scorn to think upon the things to come; they place all their hope in things that pass away; they desire to possess nothing but what passes on. And while they think excessively upon transient things and in no way hope for things that abide, the eye of the heart is closed with such insensible blindness that it is by no means directed toward the eternal light. Hence it comes to pass that often the body is already shaken by affliction, and near-approaching death cuts off the strength of the vital spirit, yet they do not cease to care for the things that are of the world. And now the Avenger drags them off to judgment; and yet they themselves, occupied with anxious arrangement of transient affairs, think of nothing else but how they may yet go on living in this world.

They make arrangements about everything they must leave behind as though they still possessed it, because their hope of living is not broken even when life is ended. Now they are dragged to judgment by the sentence, and yet they still cling by their care to the things they must have. For to a hardened mind death is believed to be far off, even when it is felt. And thus the soul is loosed from the flesh in such a way that, holding itself back toward things present with immoderate love, while it is being led to eternal punishment, it does not even know whither it is being led; and forsaking the things it would not love with a limit, it suddenly finds without limit the things it never foresaw. But on the contrary, the mind of the righteous is stretched toward the intention of eternity, even when the present life happily accompanies it.

It enjoys great health of the flesh, and yet the mind is not held back by trust in it. No moment of death has yet burst upon it, and yet it daily beholds death as though present. For because life slips ceaselessly away, hope of living is utterly cut off from it. Well therefore is it said of the days that pass away: 'They are consumed without any hope.' As if it were openly said: I have not set the confidence of my mind in the present life, because everything that passes I have despaired of even while treading it underfoot. Whence also there is fittingly added at once: