制度與會談錄 第 2 章 第 14/15 段

That there is no labor which can be compared to the promised blessedness. XIII. The tradition of the elders concerning the attainment of purity. XIIII. That the help of God is granted to those who labor. XV. From whom we ought to learn the way of perfection. XVI. That we cannot even approach the very labor of obtaining perfection without the mercy and inspiration of God. XVII. Various testimonies by which it is evidently shown that we can accomplish nothing pertaining to our salvation without the help of God. XVIII. That not only in our natural condition, but also in the daily dispensation, we are fortified by the grace of God. XVIIII. That this faith concerning the grace of God has been handed down by the ancient fathers. XX.

Concerning him who because of blasphemy was handed over to a most unclean spirit. XXI. The example of Joash, king of Judah, by which it is shown what he deserved because of pride. XXII. That every proud soul is subjected to spiritual wickednesses to be deluded. XXIII. That perfection cannot be attained except by the virtue of humility. XXIIII. Whom spiritual pride assails, and whom carnal pride. XXV. A description of carnal pride, or what evils it brings forth in the mind of the monk. XXVI. That whoever is ill-founded slips daily into a worse state. XXVII. An exposition of the vices which are generated through the disease of pride. XXVIII. Concerning the pride of a certain brother. XXVIIII. The signs by which carnal pride is recognized to be in the soul. XXX.

That one grown lukewarm through pride desires to be set over others also. XXXI. In what manner we can conquer pride or attain to perfection. XXXII. In what manner pride, the plunderer of all the virtues, can be extinguished by true humility. XXXIII. Remedies against the disease of pride. The eighth combat, which is the last, is for us against the spirit of pride. Although this disease is last in the conflict of the vices and is placed last in order, yet in origin and time it is first—a most savage beast, more monstrous than all the foregoing, tempting above all the perfect, and devouring with a more grievous bite those who are now placed, as it were, at the very consummation of the virtues.

Of this there are two kinds: one, that by which we have said the spiritual and the loftiest are assailed; the other, which embraces even beginners and the carnal. And although both kinds of pride inflame a man with harmful haughtiness against God as well as against men, yet the former is referred especially to God, while the second pertains properly to men. Its origin and remedies we shall pursue, God granting, so far as we can, in the later parts of this little book. Now it is our purpose to discuss briefly that first kind, by which, as we have said, the perfect are especially tempted.

There is, then, no other vice which so exhausts all the virtues and so despoils and strips a man of all righteousness and holiness as the evil of pride—like some general and pestilent disease not content to weaken a single member or part of him, but striving to corrupt the whole body with destruction, and to cast down and slaughter with a most grievous ruin those already set at the very summit of the virtues. For every vice is content with its own bounds and limit, and although it saddens the other virtues too, yet it aims principally against one, and especially oppresses and assails that one.

And that this very thing which we have said may be more clearly understood: gluttony—that is, the appetite of the belly or the craving of the palate—corrupts the strictness of temperance; lust defiles chastity; anger lays waste patience; so that sometimes a man given over to a single vice is not utterly deprived of the other virtues, but, with only that virtue cut off which succumbs to the vice that fights against it from the opposite side, he can retain the rest at least in part.

But this vice, when it has taken possession of the unhappy mind, like some most savage tyrant who, having captured the loftiest citadel of the virtues, utterly demolishes and overthrows the whole city—leveling and mingling with the ground the once lofty walls of holiness with those of the vices—thereafter grants no image of liberty to remain to the soul made subject to it; and the wealthier the soul it has taken captive, the heavier the yoke of servitude by which it subdues it, stripping it by a most cruel pillaging of all its resources of virtue.

And that we may recognize the power of its most grievous tyranny: that angel who, on account of the excess of his splendor and beauty, was named Lucifer, we find cast down from heaven by no other vice than this, and from that blessed and lofty station of the angels fallen down to the nether regions, wounded by the dart of pride. If, then, a single elation of heart could roll down from the heavenly places to earthly ones so great a virtue, adorned with the prerogative of such great power, how great is the vigilance with which we, surrounded by the frailty of the flesh, ought to take heed—the greatness of his ruin shows us. And in what manner we may avoid the most pernicious poison of this disease, we shall be able to be instructed, if we trace out the causes and origin of that ruin itself.

For maladies can never be cured, nor remedies applied to grievous ailments, unless first, by keen inquiry, their origins and causes are investigated.

For this one, clothed with divine brightness and shining preeminently among the other supernal powers by the bounty of the Creator, believed that he possessed the splendor of wisdom and the beauty of the virtues—with which he was adorned by the grace of the Creator—by the power of his own nature, and not by the benefit of that One's munificence; and being elated on this account, as though for the perseverance of this purity he had no need of divine aid, he judged himself to be like God, as though he, like God, needed nothing—trusting, that is, in the faculty of free will, believing that through it all things would be abundantly supplied to himself which pertained to the consummation of the virtues or to the perpetuity of the highest blessedness.

This thought alone became for him the first ruin; on account of it, being forsaken by God whom he believed he did not need, he was suddenly rendered unstable and tottering, and both perceived the infirmity of his own nature and lost the blessedness which he had enjoyed by the gift of God. And because he loved the words of downfall, in which he had said, 'I will ascend into heaven,' and a deceitful tongue, by which he said either of himself, 'I will be like the Most High,' or of Adam and Eve, 'Ye shall be as gods'—therefore God shall destroy him unto the end, He shall pluck him out and cause him to migrate from his tabernacle, and his root from the land of the living.

Then the righteous, seeing his ruin, shall fear, and shall laugh over him, saying (which is also most justly directed against those who trust that they can accomplish the highest good without the protection and help of God): 'Behold the man that made not God his helper, but trusted in the multitude of his riches, and prevailed in his vanity.' This is the cause of the first ruin and the chief origin of the disease, which again, through him who had been cast down from himself, creeping into the first-formed man, germinated the weaknesses and materials of all the vices. For while he believed that by the liberty of his will and his own industry he could acquire the glory of Godhead, he lost even that glory which he had obtained by the grace of the Creator.

And so, by the examples and testimonies of the Scriptures, it is most manifestly proved that the stain of pride, though later in the order of conflicts, is nevertheless earlier in origin and is the beginning of all sins and crimes; and that it does not, like the other vices, extinguish only the virtue contrary to itself—that is, humility alone—but is likewise the destroyer of all the virtues together; and that it tempts not only the middling and the small, but especially those who stand at the very peak of fortitude. For thus the prophet records concerning this spirit: 'And his food is choice.' Therefore blessed David, although he guarded the secrets of his heart with such great circumspection that he boldly proclaimed to Him from whom the hidden things of his conscience were not concealed:

'Lord, my heart is not exalted, nor are mine eyes lofty; neither have I walked in great matters nor in things too wonderful for me'—unless I was humble in my thoughts; and again: 'He that worketh pride shall not dwell in the midst of my house'—yet knowing how difficult this watchfulness is even for the perfect, he does not presume upon his own industry alone, but praying, implores the help of the Lord, that he may be able to escape unwounded the dart of this enemy, saying: 'Let not the foot of pride come to me,' trembling and fearing lest that befall him which is said of the proud: 'God resisteth the proud'; and again:

'Everyone that exalteth his heart is unclean before God.' How great is the evil of pride, that it deserves to have as its adversary not an angel, not the other powers contrary to it, but God Himself! For it is to be noted that he by no means said of those who are entangled in the other vices that they have the Lord resisting them—that is, 'the Lord resists the gluttonous, the fornicators, the wrathful, or the avaricious'—but only the proud. For those vices are turned back only upon each of the offenders themselves, or upon their partners, that is, they seem to be committed against other men; but this one reaches properly all the way to God, and therefore is especially worthy to have Him as its opponent.

Therefore God, the Creator and Physician of the universe, knowing that pride is the cause and beginning of maladies, took care to heal contraries by contraries—namely, that those things which had fallen through pride might rise again through humility. For that one says, 'I will ascend into heaven'; this One says, 'My soul is brought low even to the ground.' That one says, 'I will be like the Most High'; this One, 'though He was in the form of God, emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant, and humbled Himself, being made obedient even unto death.' That one says, 'I will exalt my throne above the stars of God'; this One says, 'Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart.' That one says, 'I know not the Lord, and I will not let Israel go'; this One says, 'If I should say that I know Him not, I shall be like you, a liar;

but I know Him and keep His commandments.' That one says, 'The rivers are mine, and I made them'; this One says, 'I can of my own self do nothing, but my Father who abideth in me, He doeth the works.' That one says, 'All the kingdoms of the world and their glory are mine, and to whomever I will I give them'; this One, though He was rich, became poor, that by His poverty we might be made rich. That one says, 'As eggs that are left are gathered up, so have I gathered the whole earth: and there was none that moved a wing, or opened the mouth, or chirped'; this One says, 'I am become like a pelican of the wilderness: I have watched, and am become as a sparrow alone upon the housetop.' That one says, 'With the sole of my feet I have dried up all the streams of the banks'; this One says:

'Can I not pray to my Father, and He will presently give me more than twelve thousand legions of angels?' If we have discerned the cause of the chief ruin and the foundations of our salvation—by whom and in what manner either the former was cast down or the latter arose—we may be taught, by the example either of that one's ruin or of this One's, in what manner we ought to avoid so dreadful a death of pride. And so we shall be able to escape this snare of the most wicked spirit in such a way as this: if, in each of the virtues in which we perceive that we have made progress, we say that apostolic word: 'Not I, but the grace of God with me,' and: 'By the grace of God I am what I am,' and that it is God who worketh in us both to will and to accomplish according to His good will, since the very Author of our salvation also says:

'He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing'; and: 'Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it; except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain'; and: 'It is vain for us to rise before the light, for it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy.' For no one's will or course, however fervent and eager, can be so fit that a man surrounded by the flesh warring against the spirit should be able to attain so great a reward of perfection and the palm of integrity and purity, unless he be protected by the divine compassion, so that he may deserve to arrive at that which he greatly wills and toward which he runs.

For every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights. For what hast thou that thou didst not receive? And if thou didst receive it, why dost thou glory as if thou hadst not received it? For if we recall that thief also, who for a single confession was brought into paradise, we shall understand that he obtained so great a blessedness not by the merit of his own running, but received it by the gift of a merciful God.

Or if we call to mind that two so grievous and so monstrous crimes of King David were blotted out by a single word of penitence, here too we shall not see that his labor's merits were equal to obtaining pardon for so great a crime, but that the grace of God superabounded, which, having received the occasion of true penitence, consumed so great a mass of sins under the full confession of a single word.

Examining also the beginning of the calling and salvation of mankind—by which we are saved not from ourselves nor from our works, according to the Apostle, but by the gift and grace of God—we shall be able clearly to perceive how the sum of perfection is not of him that willeth nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy, who by no means makes us to be victors over the vices in return for the merit of our labors or our running, nor lets us mount to so lofty a summit of integrity—with the flesh which we bear subdued—in return for the equivalent industry of our will.

For no affliction of this body and no contrition of heart can be worthy to lay hold of that true chastity of the inner man, so as to attain—by bare human labor, that is, without the help of God—so great a virtue of purity, innate to the angels alone and native to heaven; because the accomplishment of every good flows from the grace of Him who has bestowed upon our slight will and our brief and small running, with multiplied bounty, so great a perpetuity of blessedness and immensity of glory.

For all the length of the present life, when you have looked toward that perpetuity of future glory, vanishes; and all sorrows, in the contemplation of that immense blessedness, are put to flight, and, thinned away to nothing like smoke, melt and nowhere appear, like ashes.

Wherefore it is now time that we bring forward the judgment of the fathers in the very words in which they hand it down—namely of those who depicted the way of perfection and its quality not by the boasting of words, but rather possessing it in reality and in work and in the power of the spirit, handed it down by their own experiences and by most certain examples. They say, then, that no one can be cleansed to purity from the carnal vices, unless he has understood that all his labor and effort cannot suffice for so great an end of perfection, and unless, instructed not so much by the teaching of one who hands it down as by his own feeling and virtue and experiences, he acknowledges that it cannot be grasped except by the mercy and help of God.

For to lay hold of rewards of purity and integrity so magnificent and so exalted, however great a labor of fastings, vigils, reading, solitude, and withdrawal may be expended, it cannot be worthy so as to obtain these by the merit of one's own industry or sweat. For one's own labor and human industry will never compensate for the divine gift, unless it be granted by the divine compassion to him that desires it. And I say this not that I should strive, by emptying out human efforts, to call anyone back from industry and the intent of labor, but plainly and most constantly I define—not by my own opinion, but by that of the elders—that perfection cannot indeed be grasped at all without these, yet that by these alone, without the grace of God, it can be consummated by no one.

For as we say that human efforts cannot lay hold of it by themselves without the help of God, so we declare that it is only to those who labor and toil hard that the mercy and grace of God is conferred, and—to speak in the words of the Apostle—is imparted to those who will and who run, according to that which is sung also in the eighty-eighth psalm in the person of God: 'I have laid help upon one that is mighty, and have exalted the chosen one out of my people.'

For we say, according to the Savior's saying, that it is indeed given to those who ask, opened to those who knock, and found by those who seek, but that our asking and seeking and knocking are not worthy unless the mercy of God grants that which we ask, or opens that at which we knock, or causes that which we seek to be found. For He is ready, when only the occasion of good will is offered to Him by us, to confer all these things. For He desires and awaits our perfection and salvation more than we do. And so far did blessed David know that the outcome of his work and labor could not be obtained by his own industry alone, that with repeated prayer he begged to obtain from the Lord the direction of his works, saying:

'And direct the works of our hands upon us, yea, the work of our hands direct Thou'; and again: 'Confirm, O God, this that Thou hast wrought in us.' Therefore, if we wish to arrive at the true consummation of the virtues in effect and in work, we ought to yield to those masters and guides who, dreaming of it not by empty-worded disputation, but grasping it in reality and by experiences, are able likewise to teach us also and to direct us toward it, and to show us by a most certain path the way in which we may arrive at it—those who bore witness that they had come to this rather by faith than by the merit of their labors.

To these, moreover, the purity of heart they had acquired conferred this chief benefit: that they recognized themselves more and more to be weighed down by sins (for so much did the compunction for their faults increase in them day by day, as the purity of mind had advanced), and continually drew sighs from the depths of their heart, because they felt that they could by no means avoid the blemishes and stains of faults which were branded upon them through the manifold minutiae of their thoughts. And therefore they proclaimed that the wages of the future life were to be hoped for not by their works and merit, but by the mercy of the Lord, granting themselves nothing amid such great circumspection of heart in comparison with others—inasmuch as they ascribed this very thing not to their own industry, but to the divine grace:

not flattering themselves over the negligence of those beneath them and the lukewarm, but rather, by the contemplation of those whom they knew to be truly free from sin and already enjoying eternal blessedness in the kingdom of heaven, they sought after perpetual humility; and thus, by this consideration, they at once shunned the ruin of elation and always found both something to strive toward and something to grieve over, understanding that they could not, with the burden of the flesh opposing them, attain to that purity of heart which they desire. Therefore, according to their traditions and institutions, we ought so to hasten toward it, giving heed to fastings, vigils, prayers, and contrition of heart and body, lest we empty out all these by the inflating of this disease.

For we must believe not only that we cannot possess perfection itself by our own industry or labor, but that we cannot even accomplish these very things which we exercise for its sake—that is, our labors and efforts and studies—without the help of the divine protection and His inspiration and the grace of chastisement and exhortation, which He is wont to pour into our hearts mercifully, either through another or through His own self, visiting us. Finally, let the Author of our salvation instruct us as to what we ought, in each and every thing we do, not only to feel, but also to confess. 'I can,' He says, 'of my own self do nothing; but the Father who abideth in me, He doeth the works.'

When He, in the person of the man He had assumed, declares that He can do nothing of Himself, shall we, who are ashes and dust, imagine that in the things which pertain to our salvation we have no need of the Lord's help? Let us, then, also learn, perceiving in each single thing both our own weakness and His aids, to cry out daily with the saints: 'I was thrust at that I might fall, but the Lord upheld me. The Lord is my strength and my praise, and He is become my salvation'; and, 'Unless the Lord had helped me, my soul had almost dwelt in hell. If I said, My foot is moved: Thy mercy, O Lord, helped me. According to the multitude of my sorrows in my heart, Thy consolations have rejoiced my soul.'

Seeing also our heart strengthened in the fear of the Lord and in patience, let us say: 'And the Lord became my firm support, and He brought me forth into a broad place.' Perceiving too that knowledge is increased in us by the growth of our works, let us say: 'For Thou lightest my lamp, O Lord; my God, enlighten my darkness. For in Thee I shall be delivered from temptation, and in my God I shall leap over the wall.' Then, feeling that we have gained the strength of endurance and are directed along the path of the virtues more easily and without toil, let us add: 'God, who hath girt me with strength, and made my way immaculate; who hath made my feet like the feet of harts, and set me upon high places; who teacheth my hands to war.'

Having attained also that discernment by which, being strengthened, we may crush our adversaries, let us cry out to God: 'Thy discipline hath set me up unto the end, and Thy discipline itself shall teach me. Thou hast enlarged my steps under me, and my footsteps have not been weakened.' And because I am thus strengthened by Thy knowledge and power, let me confidently add what follows and say: 'I will pursue my enemies and overtake them, and I will not turn back till they fail. I will break them, nor shall they be able to stand; they shall fall under my feet.' Yet again, mindful of our weakness, and that we, encompassed with frail flesh, cannot overcome such bitter foes of the vices without His help, let us say:

'In Thee we will scatter our enemies, and in Thy name we will despise those who rise up against us. For I will not trust in my bow, and my sword shall not save me; for Thou hast saved us from them that afflict us, and hast put to shame them that hate us. But Thou also hast girded me with strength unto battle; Thou hast subdued under me all that rose up against me. And Thou hast given me the back of my enemies, and hast confounded them that hate us.' And thinking that neither by our own arms can we conquer, let us say: 'Take hold of arms and shield, and rise up to help me. Pour out the sword, and shut up the way against them that persecute me; say to my soul, I am thy salvation. And Thou hast made my arms like a bow of brass, and hast given me the protection of my salvation.'

'For our fathers did not possess the land by their own sword, neither did their arm save them; but Thy right hand, and Thy arm, and the light of Thy countenance, because Thou wast well pleased in them.' Finally, reviewing all His benefits with thanksgiving and with a solicitous mind, let us cry to Him from our inmost heart's affection over all these things: that we have fought at all, or have obtained from Him the enlightenment of knowledge or the discipline of discernment, or that He has equipped us with His own arms and fortified us with the girdle of strength, or that He has given us the back of our enemies and granted us the power to grind them to dust before the face of the wind: 'I will love Thee, O Lord, my strength.'

'The Lord is my firm support, and my refuge, and my deliverer. My God is my helper, and I will hope in Him. He is my protector, and the horn of my salvation, and my upholder. With praise I will call upon the Lord, and I shall be saved from my enemies.'

We should render Him thanks not only for these things—that He made us rational, or endowed us with the power of free will, or bestowed the grace of baptism, or granted us knowledge of the law and His help—but also for those things which are conferred upon us daily by His providence: namely, that He frees us from the snares of our adversaries; that He works together with us so that we may be able to overcome the vices of the flesh; that He protects us from dangers even without our knowing; that He guards us from the fall of sin; that He aids and enlightens us, so that we may be able to understand and acknowledge this very help of ours (which certain persons will interpret as nothing other than the law); that for our negligences and offences we are secretly pricked with compunction by His inspiration; that, visited by His condescension, we are most healthfully chastised; that we are sometimes drawn by Him to salvation even against our will; and finally, that He directs to better fruit our very free will, which is inclined more readily to vices, and turns it toward the way of the virtues by the visitation of His prompting.

This is, properly speaking, humility toward God; this is the sincere faith of the most ancient fathers, which even now endures unadulterated among their successors. To this faith the apostolic virtues, which have again and again been made manifest through them, bear indubitable witness, not only among us, but even among the faithless and the unbelieving.

For they, retaining with a simple heart the simple faith of the fishermen, did not conceive it in a worldly spirit through dialectical syllogisms and Ciceronian eloquence, but by the experience of a sincere life and by a most pure conduct, and by the correction of the vices, and—to speak more truly—by manifest tokens they grasped it as the very nature of perfection itself; without which neither piety toward God, nor the purging of the vices, nor amendment of morals, nor the consummation of the virtues, can be attained. I knew a certain one of the number of the brethren (whom I wish I had never known, since afterward he suffered himself to be preferred above me in the rank of my order), who confessed to a certain most approved elder that he was most grievously assailed by a sin of the flesh:

for, contrary to the use of nature, he was burning with an intolerable heat of lust, with a desire rather to suffer than to inflict shame. Then that elder, as a spiritual and true physician, at once perceived the inner cause and origin of this disease; and, sighing heavily, he said: 'By no means would the Lord have suffered you to be handed over to so wicked a spirit, had you not blasphemed something against Him.' When the man learned this, he straightway fell to the ground at his feet, and, struck with the utmost amazement, as though seeing the secrets of his own breast laid open by God, confessed that he had blasphemed against the Son of God with an impious thought.