羅馬書講道集 第 12 章 第 2/2 段

How then does he say, 'I had not known sin, but by the Law'? Not speaking of ignorance in general, but of the more exact knowledge.

For if this were said concerning the natural law, how could what follows have any reason? 'For I,' he says, 'was alive without the Law once.'

For neither Adam, nor any other man whatsoever, ever appears to have lived without the natural law;

for at the same moment that God was fashioning him, He also implanted that law in him, setting it beside all nature as a secure fellow-dweller.

And apart from these things, he nowhere appears to have called the natural law a commandment;

but this Law he calls both a commandment, and just, and holy, and a spiritual law.

But the natural law was not given to us from the Spirit;

for indeed barbarians and Greeks and all men have this law.

Whence it is plain that he is discoursing, above and below and everywhere, concerning the Mosaic Law.

Wherefore he also calls it holy, saying:

So that the law is holy, and the commandment holy, and just, and good.

For even if the Jews became unclean after the law, and unjust and grasping, this does not annul the excellence of the law, just as their unbelief does not do away with the faithfulness of God.

So that from all these things it is plain that he is discoursing about the Mosaic law.

'Was then that which is good made death unto me?' he says. 'God forbid!'

'But sin, that it might appear sin' —

that is, that it might be shown how great an evil sin is: the slothful choice, the impulse toward what is worse, the very deed itself, and the corrupted disposition;

for this is the cause of all evils.

And he magnifies it, displaying the surpassing greatness of Christ's grace, and teaching from what an evil He delivered the race of men — an evil that grew worse even through medicinal remedies and increased through the very things that would have restrained it;

'That sin, through the commandment, might become exceedingly sinful.'

Do you see how everywhere he interweaves it with this? And by the very things wherein he accuses sin, he again shows more greatly the excellence of the law.

For it was no small thing he accomplished in showing how great an evil sin is, laying bare all its venom and setting it forth in the open;

for this he indicated when he said:

'That sin, through the commandment, might become exceedingly sinful.'

That is, that it might appear how great an evil, how great a ruin, sin is;

and this was shown through the commandment.

From these things too he shows the superiority of grace over the law —

the superiority, not the conflict.

For do not look at this, that those who received it became worse, but consider that other point: that the law not only was unwilling to lead vice to any greater intensity, but was even zealous to cut out the vice that already existed.

It had the power — crown that man, indeed, for his purpose;

but worship still more greatly the power of Christ, in that it made to vanish an evil so manifold and so hard to combat, and, cutting it out by the roots, tore it up utterly.

But when you hear of 'sin,' do not suppose it to be some subsistent power, but the wicked deed, ever coming into being and passing away, which neither existed before it was done, and after it is done again vanishes.

For it was on this account that the law also was given;

and a law is never given for the abolition of what belongs to nature, but for the correction of the wicked deed that proceeds from choice.

And this the lawgivers outside the Church also know, and so does the whole nature of men.

For they only restrain the evils that arise from slothfulness; they do not undertake to cut out the things that are allotted to nature;

for the things of nature remain unmoved — which I have often said to you in other discourses as well.

Therefore, laying aside these contests, let us again exercise ourselves in the moral discourse;

or rather, this part too is one of those contests.

For if we cast out vice and bring in virtue,

then by these very things we shall clearly teach that vice is not evil by nature; and those who inquire whence come evils we shall be able easily to silence, not by words only but by deeds as well, since we share the same nature with them, yet are freed from their wickedness.

For let us not look at this, that virtue is laborious, but at this, that it is possible to be accomplished;

and if we are diligent, it will be to us both light and easy.

But if you speak to me of the pleasure of vice, speak also of its end;

for this ends in death, just as virtue leads us by the hand into life.

Or rather, if you please, let us examine each of them even before its end;

for we shall see that vice has much anguish, but virtue pleasure.

For what, tell me, is more painful than a wicked conscience? And what more pleasant than a good hope? For nothing, nothing is so wont to cut and press us down as an evil expectation;

and nothing so upholds us, and all but makes us fly, as a good conscience.

And this one may learn from the things that take place among us.

For of the beggars that pass along the narrow street, conscious to themselves of nothing wicked, and of those who dwell in prison awaiting condemnation — even should the latter enjoy food without number, they live in greater pain;

for the expectation of dreadful things does not allow them to perceive the pleasures at hand.

And why do I speak of prisoners? For the toiling craftsmen, who spend the whole day in labors, are far better disposed than those who live abroad in wealth yet are conscious to themselves of wicked things.

And it is on this account too that we count the gladiators wretched;

for although we see them in the taverns drunk, luxuriating, gorging themselves, we yet say they are more miserable than all, because the calamity of the expected end is far greater than that pleasure.

But if to them this life seems sweet, call to mind the saying which I continually speak to you: that it is no wonder if one living in vice does not escape the bitterness and grief of vice.

For behold, a thing so accursed seems desirable to those who pursue it.

But not on this account do we call them blessed; rather, on this very account we count them wretched, because they do not even know into what evils they have fallen.

And what would you say of the adulterers, who for a little pleasure endure unseemly bondage, expense of money, continual fear, and simply the life of Cain — nay, rather far harder than his — dreading things present and trembling at things to come, suspecting friends and enemies, both those who know and those who know nothing? And not even when they sleep are they released from this agony, since their wicked conscience frames for them dreams full of many terrors and so affrights them.

But the chaste man is not such; rather, he passes his present life in much ease and freedom.

Set, then, over against the small pleasure the many waves of these fears, and over against the brief toil of self-control the calm of a continual life, and you will see that the latter is sweeter than the former.

But the man who wishes to plunder, tell me, and

to lay hands on other men's goods — does he not undergo ten thousand toils, running about, flattering slaves, free men, doorkeepers, threatening, menacing, playing the shameless one, going sleepless, trembling, in agony, suspecting everything? But the man who despises wealth is not such; rather, he too enjoys much pleasure, living in security and with all safety.

And if one should go through the other parts of vice as well, he will see much tumult, many reefs.

And what is the greater thing: that in the case of virtue the laborious things come first, and after these the pleasant;

so that in this way too the toil is lightened;

but in the case of vice it is the reverse:

after the pleasure come the anguishes and the punishments;

so that from this side too the pleasure is made to vanish.

For just as the man who awaits crowns perceives none of the burdensome things present,

so the man who after the pleasure expects punishments cannot reap pure gladness, since fear throws everything into confusion.

Or rather, if one should examine accurately, even before the punishment that is laid up for these things, one might find much anguish arising in the very daring of the vice.

And if it seems good, let us examine this in the case of those who seize other men's goods, or of those who by any means whatsoever heap up wealth;

and setting aside fears and dangers and trembling and agony and anxiety and all these things, let us suppose there is someone growing rich without trouble, and confident about the safekeeping of his possessions — which is impossible, yet nevertheless let it be granted for the sake of argument;

what pleasure, then, will this man reap? That he has heaped up much? But this very thing, on the contrary, does not permit him to be glad;

for so long as he desires yet more of what belongs to others, the torments are intensified.

For desire, when it comes to a stand, then affords pleasure;

since even we who thirst refresh ourselves then, when we drink as much as we wish;

but so long as we thirst, even if we should drain all the springs dry, the torment becomes greater to us; and even if we should drink up ten thousand rivers, the punishment is harsher.

And you too, therefore, if you take the things of the world and yet still desire, have wrought yourself a greater punishment, in proportion as you have tasted the more.

Do not, then, imagine that any pleasure accrues to you from surrounding yourself with many possessions, but rather from having no wish to be rich;

for if you set your heart on being rich, you will never cease to be scourged.

For this is a longing that has no fulfillment, and the further along the road you advance, the more you stand removed from its end.

Is this not therefore a riddle, a derangement, and the utmost madness? Let us then withdraw at the very first from these evils;

or rather, let us not lay hold of such a desire at all;

and even if we do lay hold of it, let us leap away from the very outset;

which is what the writer of Proverbs enjoins, speaking concerning the harlot woman:

'Leap away, do not tarry, and do not draw near to the doors of her house.'

This same thing I too say to you concerning the love of money.

For if you fall in by little and little, entering the sea of that madness, you will scarcely be able to come back again;

and just as in whirlpools, though you struggle ten thousand times, you will not easily prevail,

so too, and far more grievously, once you have fallen into the depth of this desire, you will destroy yourself together with all that you have.

Wherefore, I beseech you, let us guard the beginning, and let us flee the small evils;

for from these the great ones are born.

For he who has learned to say at each single sin, 'It is nothing beside this,' will by little and little lose everything.

This it was that brought in wickedness, this that opened the doors to the robber, this that cast down the walls of the city—the saying at each single thing:

So too in the case of bodies the greatest maladies increase, when the small ones are despised.

Esau, had he not first surrendered his birthright, would not have become unworthy of the blessings;

and had he not made himself unworthy of the blessings, he would not have gone on to desire fratricide.

Cain, had he not lusted after the first place, but yielded it to God, would not have come to have the second place;

and again, having the second place, had he heeded the admonition, he would not have travailed with murder;

and again, having wrought the murder, had he come to repentance when God called him, and not answered shamelessly, he would not have endured the terrors that followed.

If these men, from such heedlessness, came by little and little to the very bottom of wickedness, consider what we shall suffer—we who are called to greater arenas—if we do not attend to ourselves with strict care, and, forestalling the sparks of evil before the pyre be kindled, do not extinguish them.

Do you swear falsely continually? Do not stop merely at this, but take away also the swearing itself, and thereafter you will need no labor;

for it is far harder for one who swears not to perjure himself, than not to swear at all.

Are you insolent and abusive and given to blows? Write for yourself a law neither to be angry nor to cry out at all, and together with the root the fruit also is taken away.

Are you lecherous and dissolute? Set yourself again a boundary, so as not to look upon a woman, nor to go up into the theater, nor in the marketplace to busy yourself with the beauty that belongs to others.

For it is far easier at the beginning not even to see a comely woman, than, having gazed upon her and admitted the desire, to cast out the tumult that arises from it.

For the contests are lighter at their outset;

or rather, we have no need of a contest at all, if we do not open the doors to the enemy, nor receive the seeds of wickedness.

For this reason Christ also chastised the man who looks lustfully upon a woman, that He might deliver us from greater labor, commanding us to cast out the adversary before he becomes strong—when he can also be cast out with ease.

For what necessity is there to have needless trouble, and to grapple with the adversaries, when it is possible without grappling to set up the trophy, and before the wrestling to snatch the prize? For it is not so great a labor not to see beautiful women, as it is a labor to restrain oneself when seeing them;

or rather, the former would be no labor at all, but much sweat and toil come after the seeing.

When therefore the labor is less—or rather, when there is no toil or labor at all—and the gain is greater, why are we eager to plunge into the sea of ten thousand evils? For he who does not look upon a woman will not only more easily, but also more purely, prevail over such desire, just as he who does look is delivered, both with greater labor and with a certain stain, if indeed he is ever delivered at all.

For he who has not looked upon the comely countenance is pure also of the desire that springs therefrom;

but he who has desired to look, having first cast down his reason and defiled it ten thousand times, then—if indeed he casts it out—casts out the stain that comes from the desire.

For this very reason Christ also, that we might not suffer these things, forbids not murder only, but also anger;

not adultery only, but also the unchaste glance;

not perjury only, but also swearing altogether.

And not even here does He halt at the measure of virtue, but, having laid down these ordinances, He goes on to what is yet greater.

For having withdrawn us from murders, and having commanded us to be clean of anger, He commands also that we be ready to suffer ill, and to be prepared to suffer not only as much as the plotter wishes, but to go beyond even further, and to overcome the excess of his madness by the abundance of our own philosophy.

For He did not say, 'If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, bear it nobly and be still,' but added to this also the offering of the other;

for 'Turn to him,' He says, 'the other also.'

For this is the splendid victory: to grant him more than he wishes, and by the lavishness of one's own long-suffering to overpass the bounds of his wicked desire.

For thus indeed you will dissolve his madness, and receive from the second act the reward of the first, and dissolve the anger you had over the first.

Do you see that everywhere we ourselves, not those who act upon us, are lords of not suffering ill? Or rather, we have the authority not only of not suffering ill, but even of faring well;

which is what is most marvelous of all, that not only are we not wronged, if we are sober, but we are even benefited, and through the very things wherein we are wronged by others.

Has such a one insulted you? You are lord to make this insult your own praise.

For if you return the insult, you have heightened the shame;

but if you bless the one who has insulted you, you will see all who are present crowning you and proclaiming your praise.

Have you seen how through the things wherein we are wronged we are benefited, if we will? This is so with money, this too with

blows, this too in all other things one may see coming to pass.

For if we requite them with the contrary, both for the things wherein we suffered ill and for the things wherein we do good, we weave for ourselves a double crown.

When therefore someone comes and says that 'So-and-so has insulted you, and goes on speaking ill of you before all,' praise before those who tell you the one who insulted you;

for thus, even if you wish to avenge yourself, you will be able to take satisfaction.

For those who hear, even if they are exceedingly foolish, will praise you, but will hate that man as more savage than any wild beast, because he, though in no way wronged, has caused grief, while you, though even ill-treated, have requited with the contrary.

And all that was said you will thus be able to show to be stale and lifeless.

For he who is stung furnishes, by his very pain, a proof that he is conscious of the truth of what was said;

but he who has laughed it off, by this very act has, in the presence of those there, freed himself from all suspicion.

Consider then how many good things you gather from this;

first, you free yourself from tumult and disquiet;

then—or rather, let this be set down first—even if you have sins, these too you will strip off, just as the publican, who meekly bore the accusation of the Pharisee.

Besides these, by such exercise you make your soul given to true wisdom, and you will enjoy ten thousand praises from all, and will strip off all the suspicion concerning what was said.

And if you also desire to avenge yourself on that man, this too will follow in abundance, since God chastises him for what he has spoken, and, even before that chastisement, your own true wisdom becomes to him a mortal wound.

For nothing is so wont to sting those who insult us as our laughing, when insulted, at their insults.

As therefore from being truly wise so many good things will come, so from being small-souled all the contrary will befall.

For we both shame ourselves, and seem to those present to be liable to the things spoken against us, and fill our soul with tumult, and gladden our enemy, and provoke God, and add to our own sins.

Having therefore considered all these things, let us flee the pit of small-souledness, and run down to the haven of long-suffering, that both here we may find rest for our souls, even as Christ also declared, and may attain the good things to come, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, might, and honor, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.