論神的治理 第 1 章

PREFACE. To the holy bishop Salonius, Salvian sends greeting in the Lord. Almost all men who have thought it belongs to the cultivation of human duty to hammer out some work of language by the zeal of their talents, have labored with special care on this: that, whether they clothed with their pen matters useful and worthy or useless and unworthy, they should merely illuminate the mere sequence of things with the brilliance of words, and by their speaking kindle light for the very subjects they wished to speak of. And so to this side very many writers of worldly concerns, of either kind of literature, betook themselves, not sufficiently considering upon how commendable subjects they were spending themselves, provided only that whatever they said they either sang in polished and charming verse or narrated in brilliant oration.

For all in their writings pleaded only their own causes, and, consulting more their own praises than the benefit of others, they strove not to be reckoned wholesome and salutary, but scholarly and eloquent. And so their writings are either swollen with vanity, or infamous with falsehood, or filthy with the foulness of words, or vicious with the obscenity of subject matter; so that truly, since—chasing only the praise of their talents—they spent their care on such unworthy matters, they seem not so much to have illuminated their talents themselves as to have condemned them.

But we, who are lovers of matter rather than of words, pursue the useful rather than the applaudable, and do not seek that the empty ornaments of the ages be praised in us, but that the wholesome profits of things be praised; in our little writings we wish there to be not allurements but remedies, which, forsooth, may not so much please the ears of the idle as profit the minds of the sick, being about to carry back from both a great fruit through heavenly gifts. For if this saving remedy of ours shall have healed the not-good opinion of some concerning our God, the fruit will be no small one, in that I shall have profited many. But if this does not come to pass, this very thing perhaps will not be unfruitful, that I have attempted to profit.

For the mind of a good pursuit and a pious vow, even if it has not found the effect of the work begun, nevertheless has the reward of the will. From here, then, let me begin. I. God is said by certain persons to be careless of human actions and, as it were, neglectful of them, inasmuch as He neither guards the good nor restrains the wicked, and therefore in this age the good are for the most part wretched, the wicked happy. Indeed, to refute this, since we deal with Christians, the divine word alone ought to suffice. But because many have in themselves something of pagan unbelief, they will perhaps be delighted also by the testimonies of pagans—of chosen and wise ones.

We prove, therefore, that not even those thought this concerning carelessness and neglect, who—being without the true religion—could by no means know God, because they did not know the law through which God is recognized. Pythagoras the philosopher, whom philosophy itself looked up to as, so to speak, its own master, discoursing on the nature and benefits of God, spoke thus: A soul passing and diffused through all the parts of the world, from which all living creatures that are born take life. How then is God said to neglect the world, which by this very fact He surely loves enough, in that He extends His very self through the whole body of the world? Plato and all the schools of the Platonists confess God to be the governor of all things.

The Stoics testify that He, in the place of a pilot, ever remains within that which He governs. What could they have felt more rightly and more religiously concerning the affection and diligence of God, than to say that He is like a pilot? Understanding this, surely: that just as a sailing pilot never removes his hand from the helm, so God never wholly withdraws His care from the world; and just as that pilot, catching the breezes and avoiding the rocks and gazing up at the stars, is all at once wholly devoted to his work in the duty as much of body as of heart, so likewise our God neither turns away from the totality of all things the office of His most worthy vision, nor removes the governance of His providence, nor takes away the indulgence of His most kindly love.

Whence also that example of mystical authority, by which Maro wished to prove himself no less a philosopher than a poet, saying: For God goes through all lands and the tracts of the sea and the deep heaven. Tullius too: "Nor indeed can God Himself," he says, "who is understood by us, be understood in any other way than as a certain mind, free and unbound and separated from all mortal admixture, perceiving and moving all things." Elsewhere too he says: "Nothing is more excellent than God: by Him therefore the world must necessarily be governed. God is therefore obedient or subject to no nature: He Himself therefore governs all nature—unless perhaps we, forsooth the wisest, should so feel as to believe that He, by whom we say all things are governed, at once both governs and neglects."

Since therefore all men, even those without religion, compelled by nature itself and by a certain necessity, have said that all things are both perceived and moved and governed by God, how do certain persons now think Him careless and neglectful, who both perceives all things by His subtlety, and moves them by His strength, and governs them by His power, and guards them by His kindness? I have said what the chiefs of both philosophy and eloquence have judged concerning the majesty and governance of the supreme God. And I have brought forward the most noble masters of each most excellent art for this reason, that I might more easily show that either all others felt the same, or at least dissented without any authority.

And indeed I cannot find any who have differed from the judgment of these, apart from the ravings of the Epicureans or of certain Epicurizers, who, just as they joined pleasure with virtue, so joined God with carelessness and torpor, so that it appears that those who so feel pursue not only the sense and opinion of the Epicureans, but also their vices. II. I do not think that to prove now a matter so plain we ought even to use divine testimonies in this place, especially since the sacred discourses so abundantly and evidently contradict all the propositions of the impious, that, while we satisfy their subsequent calumnies, we may also more fully refute even those things which have been said above.

They say, then, that all things are overlooked by God, because He neither restrains the wicked nor protects the good, and therefore that in this age the condition of the better is decidedly worse: that the good are in poverty, the wicked in abundance; the good in weakness, the wicked in strength; the good ever in mourning, the wicked ever in joy; the good in wretchedness and abjection, the wicked in prosperity and dignity. First, then, from those who either grieve or accuse that this is so, I ask this: whether they grieve about the holy—that is, about true and faithful Christians—or about the false and impostors.

If about the false, the grief is superfluous which grieves that the wicked are not happy, since assuredly whoever are wicked become worse by success in affairs, rejoicing that their zeal for wickedness turns out well for them; and therefore for this very reason they ought to be most wretched, so that they may cease to be wicked—men who vindicate for their most shameless gains the name of religion, and hold forth for their most sordid dealings the title of sanctity: whose wickednesses, forsooth, if their miseries be compared, they are less miserable than they deserve, because, placed in whatever miseries, they are nevertheless not so miserable as they are wicked.

By no means, therefore, should one grieve for these, that they are not rich and happy; and much less for the holy, because, however wretched they may seem to the ignorant, they nevertheless cannot be anything other than blessed. It is superfluous, moreover, that anyone should think them wretched, whether by weakness, or poverty, or other things of this kind, in which they trust themselves to be happy; for no one is wretched by another's perception, but by his own. And therefore they cannot be wretched by anyone's false judgment, who are truly blessed by their own conscience; for none, as I think, are more blessed than those who act according to their own mind and their own wish. They are humble, the religious—this they will; they are poor—they delight in poverty; they are without ambition—they spurn ambition;

they are without honor—they flee honor; they mourn—they yearn to mourn; they are weak—they rejoice in weakness. For "when I am weak," says the apostle, "then am I powerful." And not without reason does he so judge, to whom God Himself thus speaks: "My grace is sufficient for thee; for strength is made perfect in weakness." By no means, therefore, is this affliction of infirmities to be grieved over by us, which we understand to be the mother of virtues. And so, whatever it may be, whoever are truly religious must be called blessed, because amid however hard, however harsh things, none are more blessed than those who are what they wish to be.

Although there are wont to be some who, pursuing base and obscene things, even if they are blessed according to their own opinion—because they obtain what they wish—yet in the thing itself are not blessed, because what they wish they ought to have been unwilling to wish. But the religious are for this reason more blessed than all, because they both have what they wish, and better things than what they have they cannot possibly have at all. And so labor and fasting and poverty and humility and weakness are not burdensome to all who endure them, but to those unwilling to endure. For whether these things be heavy or light, the mind of the endurer makes them so. For just as nothing is so light that it is not heavy to him who does it unwillingly, so nothing is so heavy that it does not seem light to him who carries it out gladly.

Unless perhaps we suppose that to those ancient men of old-time virtue—the Fabii, the Fabricii, the Cincinnati—it was burdensome that they were poor, who were unwilling to be rich, since forsooth they conferred all their zeal, all their endeavors, upon the common advantages, and enriched the growing strength of the republic by their private poverty. Did they endure that frugal and rustic life then with groaning and grief, when they took their cheap and rustic food before the very hearths at which they had cooked it, and were not permitted to partake of it except toward evening? Did they take it ill that they did not, with a greedy and rich conscience, hoard up talents of gold, when they even restrained the use of silver by laws?

Did they then think it a penalty of allurement and greed that their purses were not stuffed full of golden coins, when they judged a man of patrician rank unworthy of the senate-house because he had wished to be rich to the amount of ten pounds of silver? They did not, I suppose, despise a poor manner of dress in those days, when they wore a garment rough and short, when they were summoned from the plough to the fasces, and, in the very robe of consular dignity that was to invest them with distinction, they wiped away the sweat-soaked dust with those imperial togas which they were about to assume. And so in those days those poor magistrates possessed a wealthy commonwealth, whereas now a rich office makes the commonwealth poor.

And what madness, I ask, or what blindness is it, that men should believe private riches can stand firm while the commonwealth is destitute and begging? Such, then, were the ancient Romans of old, and thus in their day they despised riches though they knew not God, even as now those who follow the Lord scorn them.

And yet why do I speak of those men, who out of concern for enlarging the empire brought their contempt of their own resources to the service of the public wealth, and, though poor in private, nevertheless abounded in the common riches; when even certain Greeks, followers of wisdom, without any regard for public advantage, stripped themselves of nearly all use of their household property out of eagerness to attain glory, and not only this, but even raised the summit of their teaching to the point of despising pain and death, declaring, indeed, that the wise man is blessed even in chains and torments? So great did they will the power of virtue to be, that a good man can never fail to be blessed.

If, then, those men are not counted wretched even by certain wise men now, men who reaped no fruit of their labour save only present praise, how much more ought religious and holy men not to be counted wretched, who both receive the delights of present faith and shall obtain the rewards of future blessedness? One of those men of whom we complain once said to a certain holy man who held rightly according to the rule of truth—that is, that God governs all things and, as far as He knows it needful for the human race, tempers His moderation and His guidance—he said: "Why, then, are you yourself sick?" This, of course, was said with the following sense and judgment, namely:

If God, as you suppose, governs all things in this present life, if God dispenses all things, by what reason is a man whom I know to be a sinner healthy and strong, while you, whom I do not doubt to be holy, are infirm? Who would not marvel at a man of so profound a heart, who reckons the merits and virtues of religious men worthy of such great recompense that he thinks in this present life the flesh and the bodily vigour of the saints ought to be their reward? I answer, then, not in the name of one religious man only, but of all: You ask, then, whoever you are, by what reason holy men are infirm? I answer briefly: holy men make themselves the weaker precisely because, if they were strong, they could scarcely be holy.

For I think that all men without exception are made strong by food and drink, but weak by abstinence, dryness, and fasting. It is no wonder, then, that those are weak who reject the use of those very things by which others are made strong. And there is a reason why they reject them, since Paul the apostle says of himself: "I chastise my body and bring it into subjection, lest perhaps, when I have preached to others, I myself should become a castaway." If even the apostle thinks that weakness of body is to be sought for himself, who wisely avoids it? If the apostle fears strength of the flesh, who reasonably presumes to be strong? This, then, is the reason why men devoted to Christ are weak and wish to be so.

But far be it from us to think that, by that argument by which we trust they are the more loved, religious men are neglected by God. We read that Timothy the apostle was very weak in the flesh. Was he then neglected by the Lord, or because of his infirmity did he not please Christ, who chose to be weak for this very purpose, that he might please Him? And the apostle Paul himself, though Timothy laboured under excessive infirmities, nevertheless permitted him to take and sip only a very little wine: that is, he wished him to have such regard for his infirmity as would not, however, allow him to attain to strength. And why so? Why, beyond doubt, save because, as he himself says: "The flesh lusts against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh"?

"For these," he says, "are contrary the one to the other, so that you may not do the things that you would." Not without prudence did someone say in this place that, if because of the resisting strength of the body we cannot do the things we desire, then we must be weakened in the flesh so that we may do the things we long for. "For weakness of the flesh," he says, "sharpens the vigour of the mind, and when the limbs are afflicted, the strength of the body is transferred into the virtues of the soul. The marrow does not burn with base flames, hidden incentives do not kindle a mind ill in health, the wandering senses do not run riot through varied delights, but the soul alone exults, rejoicing while the body is afflicted, as though an adversary had been subdued." This, then, as I have said, is the cause of infirmity in religious men:

and that this is so, you too, I think, no longer deny. But there are perhaps, you say, other and greater matters—namely, that they suffer many harsh and bitter things in this life, that they are taken captive, that they are tortured, that they are slain. It is true: but what shall we do with the fact that the prophets too were led away into captivity, and the apostles also endured torments? And surely we cannot doubt that they were then most of all the care of God, when they suffered these things for God's sake. But perhaps you say that by this very fact you all the more prove your point—that God neglects all things in this world and reserves the whole for the judgment to come, since the good have always suffered all evils and the wicked have done them. This is not, indeed, an unbelieving assertion, especially because it confesses that there will be a judgment of God.

But we say that the human race is so to be judged by Christ, that nevertheless even now we believe God governs and dispenses all things as He deems reasonable; and we affirm that He will so judge in the future, that we nevertheless teach He has always judged even in this world. For while God ever governs, He ever also judges, since governance itself is judgment. In how many ways would you have us prove this? By reason, or by examples, or by testimonies?

If by reason: he is so devoid of human understanding and so estranged from that very truth of which we speak, who does not recognize and see that this most beautiful work of the world, and the inestimable magnificence of things above and below, is governed by the same One by whom it was created, and that the Maker of the elements will also be their Governor; who, that is, with the same power and majesty by which He founded all things, likewise moderates them by the same providence and reason—especially since even in those things which are administered by human action nothing at all subsists without reason, and all things thus draw their preservation from providence, just as the body draws its life from the soul;

and therefore in this world not only empires and provinces, and civil and military affairs, but also lesser offices and private households, and finally the very flocks and every least kind of domestic animal, are held together by nothing but human ordering and counsel, as though by a certain hand and helm. And all these things, without doubt, by the will and judgment of the most high God: namely, that by that example the whole human race might govern the particular parts and members of things, even as He Himself governs the sum of the whole mundane body. But in the beginning, you say, of created things these were established and disposed by God; yet, once the universe of things had been accomplished and perfected, He removed from Himself all care of earthly things and sent it away:

fleeing labour, perhaps, He banished it from His place, and, shunning the trouble of weariness, or being occupied with other business, He abandoned a part of things because He could not attend to the whole. God, then, you say, removes from Himself the care of mortals. And what, then, is our reason for divine religion? What cause is there for worshipping Christ, or hope of propitiating Him? For if God neglects the human race in this world, why do we daily stretch out our hands to heaven? Why with frequent prayers do we seek the mercy of God? Why do we hasten to the houses of the Church? Why do we make supplication before the altars? For we have no reason for praying, if the hope of obtaining is taken away. You see, then, how foolish and empty is the assertion of this persuasion:

for if it is accepted, absolutely nothing of religion is preserved. But perhaps you take refuge in this, and say that we worship God out of fear of the future judgment, and that we labour at all this worship of present duties in order that on the day of the future judgment we may deserve to be acquitted. What, then, does the apostle Paul mean when he daily commands in the church and bids us continually to offer to our God prayers, supplications, petitions, and thanksgivings? And all this for what cause? For what, indeed, save, as he himself says, "that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life in all chastity"? He bids us make supplication and pray to the Lord for present things, as we see, which surely He would not bid us do unless He were confident that He could be prevailed upon.

How, then, does anyone suppose God's ears open for the obtaining of the good things of the time to come, but closed and stopped up for present things? Or how do we, making supplication in the church, beg present welfare from God, if we think we are not to be heard at all? No vows, then, are to be made by us for our safety and prosperity. Nay rather, that the modesty of our supplication may commend the voice of the petitioner, we should perhaps say: "Lord, we do not ask for the prosperity of this life, nor make supplication for present goods; for we know that Your ears are closed to these entreaties, and that You do not lend a hearing to prayers of this kind, but we ask only for those things which are to come after death."

Granted, then, that such a petition does not lack utility: how does it stand to reason? For if God removes His care from regard of this world and closes His ears to the prayers of petitioners, then without doubt He who does not hear us for present things does not hear us for future things either—unless perhaps we believe that Christ, according to the diversity of prayers, either grants or refuses His ears, that is, that He closes them when asked about present things and opens them when asked about future things. But no more need be said of these matters; for they are so foolish and so frivolous that we must beware lest the very thing that is said for the honour of God should seem to be an injury to God.

For so great is the reverence due to sacred majesty, and so awe-inspiring, that not only ought we to shudder at those things which are said by them against religion, but even those things which we ourselves say on behalf of religion we ought to speak with great fear and discipline. Therefore, if it is foolishly and impiously believed that the divine goodness despises the care of human affairs—well then, He does not despise it; and if He does not despise it, He governs; and if He governs, by that very fact that He governs He judges, since there can be no governance unless there be continually judgment in the governor. But perhaps someone may think it too little that reason declares this, unless it be proved by examples.

Let us see in what manner God governed the world from the beginning, and we shall thus show that He has always governed all things in such a way that we may at the same time teach that He has also judged. For what does Scripture say? "God, then, formed man of the slime of the earth, and breathed into him the breath of life." And what afterward? "He placed him," it says, "in the paradise of delight." What next? He gave him, that is, a law, imbued him with precepts, and shaped him by instruction. But what followed after these things? Man transgressed the sacred commandment, underwent the sentence, lost paradise, and received the penalty of damnation. Who in all these things would not see both God the Governor and God the Judge? For He established Adam innocent in paradise, and expelled him guilty.

In the establishing there is ordination, in the expulsion there is judgment. For when He placed him in the place of delight, He ordained; but when He expelled him guilty from the kingdom, He judged. This, then, concerning the first man, that is, concerning the father. What of the second, that is, of the son? "It came to pass," says holy Scripture, "after many days, that Cain offered of the fruits of the earth gifts to the Lord. Abel also offered of the firstlings of his flock and of their fat. And the Lord had respect to Abel and to his gifts, but to Cain and to his gifts He had not respect." Before I speak of the more evident judgment of God, I think that even in the things we have already mentioned there is a certain censure of judgment;

for in this, that God accepts the sacrifice of the one and rejects that of the other, He most evidently passed judgment both on the righteousness of the one and on the iniquity of the other. But this is little. Cain, then, paving the way for his coming crime, drags his brother into the wilderness, and with the solitude abetting him carries out the deed—most impious and at the same time most foolish, who believed it enough for the perpetrating of the greatest wickedness if he avoided the sight of men, though about to commit fratricide with God as witness. Whence I think that there was already in him then that opinion which is now in many, namely, that God does not regard earthly things and does not see the deeds of wicked men.

Nor is it doubtful, since after the crime had been committed and he was confronted by the word of God, he answered that he knew nothing of his brother's murder. So far did he deem God ignorant of his deed, that he believed the most savage wickedness could be covered by a lie. But he found it otherwise than he had thought. For God, by whom he supposed his crimes were not seen while he was killing, he perceived did see when he was condemned. Here now I wish to ask of those who deny that human affairs are now either regarded by God, or governed, or judged, whether in the things we have mentioned all things are the reverse.

For I think that He is present who is at the sacrifice, and He governs who chastises Cain after the sacrifices, and He is solicitous who seeks the slain from the slayer, and He judges who condemns the impious murderer with just retribution. In which indeed this too is not amiss, namely, that we should not now wonder that holy men suffer certain hardships, when we see that already then God allowed the first of the saints to be slain even through the greatest wickedness. By what reason indeed He permits this, it belongs neither to human weakness to know by full inquiry, nor to discuss at this time. Meanwhile it is enough to prove that all things of this kind come to pass not through God's negligence or carelessness, but are permitted by counsel and dispensation.

But we can by no means call that unjust in which we cannot deny that there is a divine judgment, since the highest justice is the will of God; for that which the Godhead does is not on that account unjust, because man is not able to grasp the force of divine justice. But let us return to our purpose. We see, then, in the things that have been said, that nothing was done through God's carelessness, but that of these things divine disposition ordained some, patience endured some, and sentence avenged some. But perhaps some think we have not sufficiently proved these things we say, since it is by a few instances: let us see whether we can make this very thing manifest also by all.

When, then, the multitude of the human race had grown and multiplied, together with its iniquity, "God, seeing," says holy Scripture, "that there was much malice of men on the earth, and that all the thought of the heart was bent upon evil at all times, it repented Him that He had made man on the earth, and being touched inwardly with grief of heart, He said: I will destroy man whom I created, from the face of the earth." Let us consider how in all these things both the solicitude of the Lord and His severity alike are indicated. For first He says "God seeing"; second, "touched inwardly with grief of heart"; third, "I will destroy," He says, "man whom I created."

In this, then, that God is said to see all things, His care is shown; in this, that He grieves, the terror of one angered; in this, that He punishes, the severity of one who judges. "It repented God, then," says holy Scripture, "that He had made man on the earth"—not that God is subject to this emotion, or lies open to any passion, but the divine word, in order to instil in us more fully the true understanding of the Scriptures, speaking as it were to us with human affection, under the name of a repenting God demonstrated the force of one angered; for the anger of the Godhead is the punishment of the sinner. What, then, followed after these things? "When," it says, "God had seen that the earth was corrupt, He said to Noah:

"The end of all flesh is come before me; the earth is filled with iniquity from before them, and I will destroy them together with the earth." And what afterward? "All the fountains of the great deep," it says, "were broken up, and the floodgates of heaven were opened, and there was rain upon the earth forty days and forty nights." And a little after: "All flesh that moved upon the earth was consumed." And thereupon: "Noah alone remained, and they that were with him in the ark." Here now I wish to ask of those who call God heedless of human affairs, whether at that time they believe He either cared for earthly things or judged them? For I think He not only judged, but judged in a twofold manner;

for both in preserving the good He proved Himself a devoted rewarder, and in condemning the wicked He proved Himself a severe judge. But perhaps these things, in the eyes of fools, because they were done before the flood—that is, as though in some other age—seem to have less authority: as though either there were then another God, or afterward He willed not to have the same care of the world. I could indeed by divine gift prove what I say through the several generations after the flood, but the vastness of the matter forbids it, and yet certain sure and greater instances suffice; for since the God of greater and of lesser things is beyond doubt one and the same, that surely is to be understood in lesser things which is proved in greater.

Therefore, when after the flood God had blessed the generation of men, and that very blessing had begotten an immense multitude of men, the Lord speaks to Abraham from heaven, and bids him leave his own land and seek a foreign one. He is called, he follows, he is led, he is settled; from poor he becomes wealthy, from unknown powerful, from lowly most excellent by his sojourning, most distinguished in dignity. But lest these things, which had been given him by God, should seem to have been of gift only and not of merit, he who rejoiced in prosperity is proved by adversity. For there follows toil, peril, fear: he is harassed by migration, wearied by exile, afflicted with insult, deprived of his wife; God bade his son be offered to Him, the father offered him, and, so far as pertains to the resolve of his heart, sacrificed him.

Again exiles, again fears, the envy of the Philistines, the rapine of Abimelech—many evils indeed, yet consolations equal to them: for although he is afflicted by very many, yet he is avenged concerning all. What then? In all these things which we have recounted, is not God both inspector and inviter and leader, and solicitous and sponsor and protector and rewarder and prover and exalter and avenger and judge? Inspector indeed He is, when out of all He chooses the one whom He saw to be better; inviter, when He calls; leader, when He brings him to unknown places; solicitous, when He visits him at the oak; sponsor, when He promises things to come; protector, since He shielded him among barbarous nations; rewarder, since He enriched him; prover, since He willed to try him with hardships;

exalter, since He made him more powerful than all; avenger, since He avenged him upon his adversaries; judge, since in taking vengeance He judged. And God at once subjoins to this history, saying: "The cry of Sodom and Gomorrah is multiplied, and their sin is grown exceedingly grievous." "The cry," He says, "of Sodom and Gomorrah is multiplied." Beautifully did He say that sins have a cry in themselves; for great, beyond doubt, is the cry of sinners, which ascends from earth to heaven. But why does He testify that the sins of men, as it were, cry out? Namely, because God says that His ears are beaten by the cries of sinners, that the punishment of the sinning may not be deferred.

And truly it is a cry, and a great cry, when the mercy of God is overcome by the cries of sinners, so that He is compelled to punish those who sin. The Lord shows, then, how unwillingly He punishes even the gravest sinners, saying that the cry of Sodom had ascended to Him. This is to say: My mercy indeed persuades me to spare, yet the cry of sinners compels me to punish. When, therefore, He had said these things, what followed? Angels are sent to Sodom, they set out, they enter; they are cherished by the service of the good, they are outraged by the injury of the wicked; the shameless are blinded, the upright are saved. Lot with his pious affections is led out of the city; the city with its impious inhabitants is burned up. Here I ask, whether God burned the wicked out of judgment or without judgment?

He who says the Sodomites were punished by God without judgment charges God with injustice; but if He destroyed the wicked with judgment, He judged. He judged indeed, and judged even, as it were, after the likeness of the future judgment, for since it is manifest that for the punishment of the wicked Gehenna will burn in the future, and that heavenly flame consumed Sodom and the cities near it. In the present, then, God willed to declare that judgment which is to come, when He sent Gehenna from heaven upon the impious people, as the apostle also says, that God "condemned the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah with overthrow, making them an example to those who should act impiously"—although that very thing which was done there had more of mercy than of severity.

For that He deferred the punishment so long was of mercy; that at length He punished, of justice. And therefore, when God sent the angels to Sodom, He wished to prove this to us: that He would punish even the wicked unwillingly; namely, that, when we read what the angels had suffered from the Sodomites, and saw the monstrousness of their crimes, the foulness of their offences, the obscenity of their lusts, God might surely prove to us that He Himself had not wished to destroy them, but that they themselves had wrung it out that they should perish. I could bring forward countless instances, but I fear lest, while I strive sufficiently to prove the matter, I should seem to have woven a history. Moses in the desert,

as he pastures the flock placed there, sees the bush burning, hears God from the bush, receives commands, is exalted with power, is sent to Pharaoh; he comes, he speaks, he is despised, he prevails. Egypt is smitten, Pharaoh's disobedience is scourged. And indeed not in one manner only, namely, that the sacrilegious one might be the more tormented by the diversity of the punishment. And what at last? Ten times he rebels, ten times he is scourged. What then do we say? I think that in all these things you may recognize that God both cares for human affairs and judges them. In Egypt indeed, at that time, it is established that God's judgment was not simple only but manifold; for as often as He smote the rebelling Egyptians, so often did He judge. But after these things which we have said, what followed?

Israel is let go; the Passover having been celebrated, it despoils the Egyptians, and departs rich. Pharaoh repents, gathers an army, comes upon the fugitives, is joined to their camp, is separated by the darkness. The sea is dried up, Israel marches through, and is freed by the dutiful forbearance of the waves. Pharaoh follows, the sea is rolled back over him, and he is destroyed as the wave covers him. I think it now not obscure that in these things which were done there is a judgment of God—and indeed not only a judgment, but also moderation and patience: for it was of patience that the rebelling Egyptians were often smitten, of judgment that the stubborn in their obstinacy were condemned to death. Therefore, after this order of things done, the nation of the Hebrews enters the wilderness victorious without war.

It makes a journey without a road, a traveller without a way, with God going before, honoured by divine companionship in arms, mighty by heavenly guidance, following the moving pillar—cloudy by day, fiery by night—taking on suitable variations of colour according to the variation of the times, namely, that it might both distinguish the light of day by a golden dimness, and illuminate the darkness of night with clear brightness by its flaming splendour.

Add to this fountains suddenly born, add waters medicinal, whether given or transformed, keeping their appearance while abandoning their nature; add the springs of the mountains laid open by bursting streams, add fields dusty with gushing torrents, add flocks of birds brought into the camps of the travellers; God, in His most indulgent lovingkindness, serving not only the needs of men but even their delights; food given for forty years by the stars that daily ministered, the heavens continually dripping with sweet food, flowing not only for sustenance but even for luxury.

Add men who in no part of their limbs felt the increase and decrease of human bodies—nails not grown, teeth not worn down, hair always the same, feet not chafed, garments not torn, shoes not worn out—an overflowing honour of men, even to the dignity of their humble clothing: add to this God descending to the earth for the office of instructing the nation, God the Son adapting Himself to earthly sight, the common folk of a countless multitude admitted into fellowship of divine intimacy, flourishing in the honour of sacred friendship.

Add to this thunders, add lightnings, the terrible sounds of heavenly trumpets, the fearful crash of all the air on every side, the heavens bellowing with sacred blasts, fires and mists and clouds full of God, the Lord speaking close at hand, the law resounding from the divine mouth, letters, characters, and pages inscribed by the finger of God, a volume of stone, a people learning and God teaching, and, with men and angels almost mingled together, one school of heaven and earth. For thus it is written, that when Moses had brought back the words of the people to the Lord, the Lord said to him: "Even now I will come to you in the darkness of the cloud, that the people may hear me speaking to you." And a little after: "Behold," it says, "thunders began to be heard and lightnings to flash, and a very thick cloud to cover the mountain."

And again: "And the Lord came down upon Mount Sinai, on the very top of the mountain." And thereupon: "And He spoke with Moses in the sight of all, so that the pillar of cloud stood at the door of the tabernacle, and they themselves stood and adored at the doors of their tents. And the Lord spoke to Moses face to face, as a man is wont to speak to his friend." Since these things are so, does not God seem to have care of man, bestowing such great gifts, granting such great things, making a lowly little man a partaker of His discourse, and admitting him, as it were, into fellowship of sacred companionship, opening to him His palms full of immortal riches, feeding them with the cup of nectar, and nourishing them with heavenly food?

What greater care, I ask, could He show them for their governance, what greater affection could He display, than that, while they still lived the life of the present age, they should already possess the very appearance of the blessedness to come? 10. But perhaps someone will answer at this point that God once had such care for men, yet now has it not at all. On what grounds do we believe this? Perhaps because, like them, we do not eat manna daily, seeing that we reap fields full of wheaten harvests? Because we do not catch quail that thrust themselves into human hands, seeing that we devour every kind of bird, cattle, and beast? Because we do not receive with open mouths the waters leaping from the rocks, seeing that we brim our wine-cellars with the produce of our vineyards?

I add something further: that we ourselves—we who say that those men were then in God's care while we are neglected by God—if we could accept the things of the past in exchange for our present goods, would utterly reject the choice of that condition. For we would not wish to lose what we now have in order to possess the things they then enjoyed—not because we now have better things than that people then had, but because even they, who were fed daily by the ministry of heaven and of God, still preferred the old gluttony of the belly to their present goods, being downcast, of course, at the vile remembrance of fleshly foods, and sickening with a most fetid longing for onions and garlic—not that what they had used before was better,

but because what is now done by us was then done by them. They loathed the things that were, and longed for the things that were not; and we the more praise those things that then were rather than these that now are—not because, if the power of choosing were given, we would always prefer to have those—but because it is a familiar vice of the human mind always to desire more the things that are lacking; and because, as the poet says, others' things please us, and our own please others more. There is added also this, which is well-nigh universal to every man: that he is ever ungrateful to God, and by this inborn and as it were native evil all men bind one another in turn, so as to detract from God's benefits, lest they should acknowledge themselves to be debtors. But enough of this.

Now let us return to the order of the argument we began some time ago—although, as I think, we have already proved in no small measure the things we set forth; yet let us add still something more, if it please. For it is better to prove a thing more than is necessary than perhaps less than the matter demands. 11. The people of the Hebrews, once freed from the yoke of Pharaoh, transgressed at Mount Sinai and were straightway struck by the Lord for their error. For thus it is written: 'The Lord therefore struck the people for the error of the calf which Aaron had made.' What greater or more evident judgment could God pass upon sinners than that punishment should at once overtake the offenders? And yet, although the whole people was guilty, why was not condemnation sent upon all?

Because, of course, the merciful Lord struck one part with the sword of His sentence, that He might correct another part by the example, and might prove to all at once both His censure in restraining and His mercy in forgiving. For it was censure that He chastised, and mercy that He spared—though each in unequal measure: for indeed more was then granted to mercy than to severity.

And that surely because, since the most indulgent Lord ever shows Himself more inclined to compassion than to vengeance, although in then restraining a part of the Jewish host the divine censure did assign something to judgment and severity, yet mercy claimed for itself the greater portion of the people—specifically indeed by this special and peculiar compassion toward the countless multitude of that time, lest, of course, the punishment should consume all whom guilt embraced. But toward certain persons and families, as we read, the censure of God is inexorable, as in that passage where, when the people rested on the Sabbath, the man who had presumed to gather wood is put to death: for although the deed itself of the man seemed harmless, yet the observance of the day made him a criminal;

or when, as two men were quarreling in strife, one was punished with death because he had blasphemed. For thus it is written: 'And behold, the son of an Israelite woman, whom she had borne to an Egyptian man among the children of Israel, quarreled in the camp with a man of Israel; and when he had blasphemed the Lord and cursed Him, he was brought to Moses.' And a little after it says: 'They put him in prison, until they should see what the Lord would command,' who spoke to Moses, saying: 'Bring forth the blasphemer outside the camp, and let all who heard him lay their hands upon his head, and let all the people stone him.' Is this not the present and manifest judgment of God—a sentence pronounced by heavenly deliberation as it were according to the form of a human tribunal?

First, he who had sinned was seized; second, he was brought as it were to the tribunal; third, he was accused; then he was cast into prison; finally he was punished by the authority of the heavenly judgment—and moreover not merely punished, but punished under testimony, so that it might appear that justice, not mere power, condemned the guilty man, the example, of course, availing for the amendment of all, so that no one afterward might commit what the whole people had avenged in one man. By this reasoning, therefore, and this judgment, God does all things now and has always done, namely, that whatever individuals have suffered might avail for the correction of all. Such also was that case, when Abihu and Nadab, men of priestly blood, were consumed by heavenly fire:

in whom, surely, God willed to show not merely a judgment but a present and impending judgment. For thus it is written that, when fire had gone out from the Lord and devoured the burnt offering, Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, took their censers, placed fire in them and incense upon it, offering before the Lord strange fire, which had not been commanded them; and fire went out from the Lord and devoured them, and they died before the Lord. For what else did He will to show than His right hand stretched out over us and a sword continually threatening—He who at once punished the error of these men in the very act, and the crime of the sinners was scarcely accomplished before punishment avenged their sin.

Although not only this was accomplished in this matter, but also many other things—for since in those men it was not an impious mind but an over-heedless rashness that was then punished, the Lord assuredly declared with what punishment those would be worthy who should venture anything in contempt of the Godhead, when even those were struck by God who had sinned only through inconsiderateness of mind; or how guilty they would be who should act against the command of their Lord, when even those were so smitten who had done what was not commanded.

Further still, by this too God willed to provide for our correction through the censure of a salutary example, that all the laity might understand how greatly they ought to fear the wrath of God, when He snatched not the sons of the priest from present punishment—neither did the merit of their parent rescue them, nor did the privilege of sacred ministry defend them. But why do I speak of these, whose inconsiderateness in a manner touched God and overflowed into an injury against heaven? Miriam speaks against Moses and is punished—and not merely punished, but punished after the manner of a judgment. For first she is summoned to judgment, then she is accused, third she is scourged. In the rebuke she receives the force of the sentence, but in the leprosy she suffers the expiation of a criminal;

although a chastisement of this kind humbled not Miriam only but also Aaron, because, though it was not fitting that the high priest should be disfigured by leprosy, yet the Lord's chastisement scourged even him—and not this only, but in the punishment which Miriam suffers, Aaron too is restrained as though a sharer in the fault; for Miriam is afflicted with punishment that Aaron might be chastened with confusion. Moreover, that we might recognize the form of the divine judgment to be inexorable in certain cases, not even at the intercession of him who had been injured did He relent. For thus we read that the Lord said to Aaron and Miriam: 'Why then were you not afraid to speak against my servant Moses?' And He departed in anger. And behold, Miriam appeared white with leprosy as snow; and Moses cried to the Lord, saying:

'I beseech Thee, Lord, heal her.' The Lord answered him: 'If her father had spit in her face, ought she not at least to be covered with shame for ten days? Let her be shut out from the camp seven days, and afterward she shall be called back.' Let these things, then, which we have said suffice concerning this kind of division and this part of the discourse; for it is endless to argue about all cases, which it would be far too long even to enumerate without argument. Yet let us add still something more. 12. The Hebrew nation is grieved to have departed from Egypt—it is struck; then it laments to be wearied by the labor of the journey—it is afflicted; it craves flesh—it is scourged.

And because, eating manna daily, it desires to fill the gluttony of its belly with enticements, it is indeed sated with its longed-for craving, yet even in that very satiety is tormented. 'For while the food,' says the Scripture, 'was yet in their mouths, the wrath of God rose upon them and slew very many of them and hindered the chosen of Israel.' It rebels against Moses—it is destroyed; Korah reviles—he is overwhelmed; Dathan and Abiram murmur—they are swallowed up. 'For the earth was opened,' it says, 'and swallowed Dathan and covered the congregation of Abiram.' Two hundred and fifty men also, as the sacred word testifies, princely men who at the time of council were called by name, rose up against Moses. And when they had stood against Moses and Aaron, they said:

'Let it suffice you, for all the multitude are holy, and the Lord is among them: why do you lift yourselves up above the people of the Lord?' And what after this? 'Fire,' it says, 'went out from the Lord and slew the two hundred and fifty men who were offering incense.' But though such great things were being done, the heavenly care availed nothing. Chastisement was most frequently applied, but amendment did not follow. For just as we, when we are constantly scourged, are not corrected, so too they, when they were most frequently struck down, were not amended. For what is written? 'And all the multitude of the children of Israel murmured the next day against Moses and Aaron, saying: You have killed the people of the Lord.' And what afterward?

At once fourteen thousand seven hundred men were struck down and consumed by divine fire. Since, then, the whole multitude of the people had sinned, why was not vengeance taken upon all? Especially since out of that sedition of Korah which I mentioned above, no one escaped. Why there did God will that the whole assembly of sinners be slain, but here only a portion? Because, of course, the Lord, full both of justice and of mercy, grants much to His mercy through forbearance and to His severity through discipline. And therefore there He furnished discipline, that the punishment of all the guilty might avail for the correction of all; but here He granted to His mercy, lest the entire people should perish.

And yet, although He acted so mercifully, because chastisement so often repeated upon a part of the people availed nothing, in the end He condemned them all to death—a matter which ought to avail both for our fear and our amendment at once, namely, lest we who by their example are not corrected at all should perhaps be punished by their end. For there is no doubt what was done concerning them. For when the whole Hebrew nation had gone out of Egypt for this purpose, that it might enter the land of promise, save two holy men only, no one entered. For thus it is written: 'The Lord spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying: How long does this most wicked multitude murmur against me? As I live, says the Lord, as you have spoken this day in my hearing, so will I do to you:

in this wilderness shall your carcasses lie.' And what afterward? 'Your little ones,' He says, 'of whom you said that they would be a prey to the enemy, I will bring in, that they may see the land which displeased you: your carcasses shall lie in the wilderness.' And what then? 'All,' it says, 'died and were struck down in the sight of the Lord.' What is there that is not in all these? Do you wish to see a ruler? Behold, He both corrects the present and disposes the future. Do you wish to see a stern judge? Behold, He punishes the guilty. Do you wish to see one just and merciful? Behold, He spares the innocent. Do you wish to see in all things a judge? Behold, everywhere there is judgment. For both as judge He accuses and as judge He rules: as judge He pronounces sentence, as judge He destroys the guilty, as judge He rewards the innocent. 1.

Let these examples, then, which we have given suffice, by which our God is proved throughout to be a most solicitous beholder, a most loving governor, and a most just judge. But perhaps someone among the less instructed thinks: if all things are now done by God as they were then done, why is it that the wicked prevail and the good are afflicted, and whereas then the wicked felt wrath and the good felt mercy, now the good seem in some measure to feel wrath and the wicked to feel favor? A little later I will answer these things. For now, since I promised to prove these three things—namely the presence of God, His governance, and His judgment—by these three means: that is, by reason, by examples, and by testimonies; and since we have already satisfied the requirement by reason and examples, it remains that we should demonstrate them by testimonies;

although the very examples we have given ought to be held as testimonies, since that is rightly called a testimony by which the truth of things is proved. Which, then, of those three things stated above ought first to be proved by the sacred testimonies—the presence, the governance, or the judgment? The presence, I think; for he who is either to rule or to judge must without doubt be present, so that he may either govern whatever it is or be able to judge. The divine word, speaking in its volumes, thus says: 'In every place the eyes of the Lord behold the good and the evil.' Behold, you have Him present; behold, beholding; behold, in every place and watching through His sight.

For this reason He said that both the good and the evil are considered by Him: to prove, of course, that nothing is neglected by Him whom He showed to search out all things. And that you may grasp this more fully, hear what the same Holy Spirit testifies in another place of the Scriptures: 'The eyes of the Lord,' it says, 'are upon those who fear Him, to deliver their souls from death and to feed them in famine.' Behold why the Lord is said to look upon righteous men—surely to preserve, to protect. For the gaze of the favorable Godhead is the gift bestowed upon human converse. For elsewhere too the same divine Spirit: 'The eyes of the Lord,' it says, 'are upon the righteous, and His ears are unto their prayers.' See with what kindness the Scripture says God deals with His own.

For in this, that it says the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, the affection of Him who beholds is shown; but in this, that His ears are ever ready at their prayers, the bounty of Him who hears is demonstrated—although by that which it says, that the divine ears are ever at the prayers of the righteous, not merely God's hearing but as it were a certain obedience of God is signified. For how are the divine ears at the prayers of the righteous? How, unless that they always hear, unless that they always hearken, unless that they promptly grant what is heard, unless that they immediately concede what is hearkened to? Ever, then, are the ears of our Lord ready to hear the prayers of the saints; ever are they attentive.

How blessed we should all be, if, as promptly as we read that God gives us a hearing, we ourselves were willing so promptly to hear God! But perhaps you say that this, that God is read to look upon the righteous, avails little for the case, because it is not a general regard of the Godhead, but one granted only to the righteous by a special kindness. Now indeed the sacred word has already testified above that the eyes of the Lord behold the good and the evil. But if even now you wish it to be proved more fully, consider what follows; for this is added: 'But the face of the Lord is upon those who do evil, to cut off the memory of them from the earth.' You see without doubt that you cannot complain that God does not look also upon the unjust,

since you understand that the vision of the Lord is indeed general upon all men, but made diverse by the disparity of merits. For the good are looked upon that they may be preserved, the evil that they may be destroyed; and having a share in these latter, you yourself who deny that men are looked upon by God—understand clearly not only that you are seen by the Lord, but also acknowledge beyond doubt that you shall perish. For since the face of the Lord is upon those who do evil for this end, that He may cut off the memory of them from the earth, it is necessary that you who perfidiously deny that you behold the face of God should know the wrath of Him who beholds by your destruction. Concerning, then, the presence and the gaze of God, these things suffice.

2. Let us now see whether He who regards also rules—since the very reason for regarding contains in itself the cause of governing, because He does not regard for this end, that having beheld He should neglect—He who by that very fact is understood not to neglect, because He deigns to regard; especially since the sacred word above testified that the evil are looked upon by God unto destruction, the good unto salvation. By this very thing, surely, the administration of the divine governance is demonstrated; for this is to rule by a just governance and to treat each individual man according to the diversity of merits. But receive nonetheless a fuller testimony on this matter. The Holy Spirit says to God the Father in the psalm: 'Thou that rulest Israel, give heed.' 'Israel' is interpreted 'seeing God':

and since Christians indeed see Him with faith and heart, those who faithfully believe—although God is the governor of all—yet governance is said to be granted by God specially to them who deserve to be ruled specially by the Godhead. Whence you too, whoever you are, if you are a Christian, it is necessary that you believe yourself to be ruled by God. But if you think yourself not at all governed by God along with the rest of Christians, it is necessary that you recognize yourself to be outside all Christians. But if, as we have already said above, you rather seek that which pertains to all men, not that which pertains to Christians alone—behold, the sacred volume evidently says that all things are ruled daily by the nod of the Godhead, and that all things are unceasingly governed by God;

'For He Himself,' it says, 'loves counsel and discipline. For there is no other god whose care is over all. Since Thou art therefore just,' it says, 'Thou disposest all things justly, and with great reverence Thou disposest us.' Behold, you have God ever disposing, ever governing—although in that passage of Scripture not only sacred governance but also human dignity is declared. For in this, that it says 'Thou disposest us,' the power of the divine governance is shown; but in this, that 'with great reverence,' the summit of human dignity is displayed. Elsewhere too in the prophet: 'Do I not,' He says, 'fill heaven and earth?' And why He fills all things He Himself declares: 'Because I am with you,' He says, 'to save you.'

For behold, the Lord shows not only His governance and His filling, but also the power and benefit of that very filling; for the filling of the Godhead has this fruit in itself, that it saves the things which it fills. And therefore in the Acts of the Apostles the most blessed Paul says: 'In Him we live and move and are.' Without doubt He is more than a governor of life, in whom is the very motion of the living. For he did not say that we are moved by Him, but in Him—teaching, of course, that the substance of us all is implanted within the sacred powers, since in Him assuredly we live, from whom we derive this very thing that we are. But the Savior Himself too in the Gospel: 'Behold, I,' He says, 'am with you all the days, even to the consummation of the age.'

He said not only that He is with us, but even that He is with us all the days. Do you, O most ungrateful man, say that He who is with us without ceasing has neither care nor regard for us? What, then, does He do with us? Is He with us for this end, that He should not regard, that He should neglect? And how do both agree in Him, that He who grants His presence to piety should bestow neglect upon impiety? 'For behold, I,' He says, 'am with you all the days, even to the consummation of the age.' Excellently indeed do we interpret the affection of God, if we slander Him as continually neglecting us, when He Himself testifies that we are continually not forsaken by Him.