哥林多前書講道集 第 36 章 第 2/2 段

What do you say? You do not know what the words spoken are? For this very reason you ought to have paid attention.

The obscure rouses your soul—far more so; whereas if it were clear, you would have run past it.

For on this account not all things are clear—lest you grow slothful—nor all obscure—lest you despair.

And that eunuch, that barbarian, said none of these things, but even though encompassed by a throng of so many affairs, and being on the road, he held a book in his hands and was reading, though he did not understand what he was reading;

but you, though you have an abundance of teachers, and have others who read to you, put forward pretexts and excuses to me.

You do not know the things spoken? Then pray that you may learn;

or rather, it is impossible to be ignorant of everything.

For indeed many things are of themselves plain and clear;

or rather, even if you were ignorant of all things, even so you ought to keep silent, lest you drive out those who are attentive—so that God, receiving your quietness and reverence, may make even the obscure things plain.

But you cannot keep silent? Then go out, lest you become a harm to others as well.

For indeed there ought always to be one voice in the church, as though it were a single body.

For this reason the reader too speaks alone;

and even he who holds the office of bishop endures to sit in silence;

and the psalm-singer sings alone;

and even though all respond, the voice is carried as from a single mouth;

and he who preaches, preaches alone.

But when many speak many and diverse things, why do we trouble you to no purpose? For not even if you deem that we trouble you not to no purpose—while we are speaking about matters so great—would you be conversing about things that in no way concern you.

For these reasons there is much perversity in you, not only in your manner of life, but even in your very judgment of matters;

and you gape after superfluous things, and, forsaking the truth, you pursue shadows and dreams.

Or are not all present things shadow and dreams, and worse than a shadow? For before they appear, they fly away, and before they fly off, they cause much tumult and more than the pleasure they give.

And even if a man, having gotten ten thousand riches here, should bury them, when the night has passed he departs hence naked—and very rightly so;

since even those who grow rich in a dream, when they have risen from their bed, have none of the things they seemed to have while sleeping;

so also is it with the covetous;

or rather, not so, but even much worse.

For he who grows rich in a dream neither has the riches which he imagined himself to have, nor does he rise up having taken any other harm from that fancy;

but this man is deprived of the riches, yet departs having been filled with the sins that come from riches, and, having fancied himself in wealth, he beholds the evils that come from wealth no longer in fancy, but in the very reality of things;

and the pleasure came to pass in dreams, but the punishment that comes from the pleasure no longer befalls as a dream, but in the very experience—or rather, even before that punishment, here also he pays the uttermost penalty, in the very gathering rubbing upon himself countless despondencies, anxieties, accusations, slanders, tumults, and disturbances.

In order, then, that we may be delivered both from the dreams and from the evils that are not in dreams, let us choose almsgiving instead of covetousness, love of mankind instead of rapine.

For thus shall we attain unto both the present and the future good things, by the grace and love toward mankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, honor, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages.