哥林多前書講道集 第 38 章 第 2/2 段

For many, along with poverty and maiming, wrestle also with a demon and wander in deserts;

and others again endure things yet more grievous than these.

For God forbid that we should suffer all things whatsoever it is possible to bear.

Ever reckoning these things, therefore, think of those who suffer the more grievous things, and grieve at none of thine own;

but when thou sinnest, then only groan, then weep;

I forbid it not, nay rather I urge it;

and even then with measure, considering that there is a return, there is reconciliation.

But dost thou see others living in luxury, and thyself in poverty, and another in splendid raiment and in distinction? Yet look not at these things alone, but at the sorrows that spring from them.

And in the case of thy poverty too, consider not the destitution only, but also the pleasure that comes of it.

For wealth has indeed a bright mask, but within is full of gloom;

and if thou unfold the conscience of each, in the soul of the poor man thou wilt see much freedom from fear and much liberty;

but in that of the rich, tumults, disturbances, waves.

But if thou art grieved at seeing him rich, he too is grieved far more than thou, beholding one richer than himself;

and just as thou fearest him, so also does he fear another, and in this he has no advantage over thee.

But dost thou grieve on seeing a ruler, because thou art a private man, and one of the ruled?

But consider the day of the succession, and

before that day, the tumults, the perils, the toils, the flatteries, the sleepless nights, all the miseries.

And these things we say to those who are unwilling to practise the higher wisdom;

for if thou knowest this, we shall be able to exhort thee from other and greater considerations;

but for the present it is necessary to discourse with thee from the grosser things.

Whenever, then, you see a rich man, think of the one richer than he, and you will see this man reduced to the same condition as yourself.

And after him, consider also the man poorer than yourself, and how many have gone to sleep hungry, and have lost their ancestral estates, and dwell in prison, and pray for death every single day.

For poverty does not beget despondency, nor does wealth beget pleasure; rather, it is reasoning that is wont to produce in you both the one and the other.

Consider the matter, beginning from below.

The dung-collector grieves and is pained that he has not been freed from this occupation, which is deemed wretched and disgraceful.

But if you free him from this and enable him to obtain the necessities of life in security, he will grieve again that he does not possess more than he needs.

And if you supply him with more, he will want it to be doubled once again, and on this account he will be pained no less than before.

And if you give him double, or even triple, he will again be despondent that he takes no part in public affairs.

And if you grant him this, he will consider himself miserable that he is not among those of the first rank in public life.

And when he has attained this honor also, he will lament that he does not rule.

And when he rules, he will lament that it is not over a whole nation.

And when he rules over a whole nation, that it is not over many nations.

And when over many nations, that it is not over all.

When he becomes a prefect, he will be grieved again that he is not also a king.

And if a king, that he is not the only one.

And if the only one, that he does not also rule over the barbarians, that he does not rule over the whole inhabited world as well.

And when he rules the whole inhabited world, why not also another world? And thus reasoning, advancing to infinity, never allows him to take delight at any time.

Do you see how, even if you make a king out of a lowly and poor man, you do not remove his despondency, unless you first correct the reasoning that is enamored of covetousness? Come, let me show you the contrary as well: that even if you bring a man of understanding down from on high to below, you will not cast him into despondency and grief.

And, if you wish, let us descend by the same ladder: bring the prefect down from his throne in thought, and strip him of that dignity.

For this man, if he is willing to reflect on the things I have said, will feel no pain thereby.

For he will not reckon the things of which he has been deprived, but the things he still possesses—the glory derived from his office.

But if you take away this too, he will consider the ordinary folk who have never risen to such an office, and his wealth will suffice him for consolation.

And if you cast him out of this as well, he will consider those who have only moderate means.

And if you take away his moderate means too, and give him only the necessary sustenance, he will be able to reflect on those who do not share even in this, but wrestle with unremitting famine and dwell in prison.

And if you should bring him into that house where those afflicted with incurable diseases are, calling to mind those in irremediable pains, he will see that he himself is in far better circumstances.

And just as that dung-collector, not even when made a king will reap any cheerfulness, so this man, not even when reduced to a prisoner will ever feel pain.

Wealth, then, is not the basis of pleasure, nor poverty the basis of despondency, but rather our own disposition, and the fact that the eyes of our mind are not pure, nor do they stand and remain in some place, but fly off into the boundless.

And just as healthy bodies, even if nourished on bread alone, thrive well and are vigorous;

while sickly ones, even if they enjoy a lavish and varied table, become so much the weaker;

so it is wont to happen also in the case of the soul.

The petty-souled could not be cheerful even amid a diadem and unspeakable honors;

but the wise, even in bonds and in chains and in poverty, enjoy pure pleasure.

Reflecting, then, on these things, let us ever look to those who are more lowly than ourselves.

For there is indeed yet another consolation, but one that is philosophic and surpasses the grossness of the many.

What is this? That wealth is nothing, poverty nothing, dishonor nothing, honor nothing, but they differ from one another only in a brief span of time and in words.

And along with this there is yet another, greater than it: to reflect on the things to come, both evil and good—the truly evil and the truly good—and from these to be comforted.

But since many of these people, as I said, stand far from such reasonings, on this account we were compelled to dwell upon those former arguments, that by a road we might lead to these things also those who have accepted the former.

Reckoning up all these things, then, let us order ourselves on every side, and never in these unexpected reverses shall we feel pain.

For not even if we saw rich men in a painting would we call them enviable, just as neither would we call the poor depicted there wretched and pitiable;

and yet those are more enduring than the rich among us;

for a rich man remains longer in a painting than in the very nature of things.

For the former has often lasted even a hundred years appearing thus, while this one, sometimes not even reveling in his possessions for a single year, has been stripped bare of everything all at once.

Reckoning up all these things, then, let us on every side fortify cheerfulness against senseless grief, that we may both pass the present life with pleasure, and attain the good things to come, by the grace and lovingkindness 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.