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For this cause have I sent unto you Timothy,
who is my beloved and faithful child in the
Lord, who shall put you in remembrance of my
ways which be in Christ Jesus.
CONSIDER here also, I entreat, the
noble soul, the soul more glowing and keener
than fire: how he was indeed especially desirous
to be present himself with the Corinthians,
thus distempered and broken into parties. For
he knew well what a help to the disciples his
presence was and what a mischief his absence.
And the former he declared in the Epistle to
the Philippians, saying, (Phil. ii. 12.
kai om. in rec. text.) "Not as in my
presence only, but also now much more in my
absence, work out your own salvation with fear
and trembling." The latter he signifies in
this Epistle, saying, (ver.
18.) "Now some are puffed up, as though I
were not coming to you; but I will come." He
was urgent, it seems, and desirous to be
present himself. But as this was not possible
for a time, he corrects them by the promise of
his appearance; and not this only, but also by
the sending of his disciple. "For this," he
saith, "I have sent unto you Timothy."
"For this cause:" how is that? "Because I
care for you as for children, and as having
begotten you."
And the message is accompanied with a
recommendation of his person: "Who is my
beloved and faithful child in the Lord." Now
this he said, both to shew his love of him, and
to prepare them to look on him with respect.
And not simply "faithful," but, "in the
Lord;" that is, in the things pertaining to
the Lord.
Now if in worldly things it is high praise for a
man to be faithful, much more in things
spiritual.
If then he was his "beloved child," consider
how great was Paul's love, in choosing to be
separated from him for the Corinthian's sake,
And if "faithful" also, he will be
unexceptionable in his ministering to their
affairs.
"Who shall put you in remembrance." He said
not, "shall teach," lest they should take it
ill, as being used to learn from himself.
Wherefore also towards the end he saith, (1
Cor. xvi. 10, 11.) "For he worketh
the work of the Lord, as I, also do. Let no
man therefore despise him." For there was no
envy among the Apostles, but they had an eye
unto one thing, the edification of the Church.
And if he that was employed was their inferior,
they did as it were support (sunekrotoun) him
with all earnestness. Wherefore neither was he
contented with saying, "He shall put you in
remembrance;" but purposing to cut out their
envy more completely,--for Timothy was
young,--with this view, I say, he adds,
"my ways;" not "his," but "mine;" that
is, his methods, (tas oikonomias.) his
dangers, his customs, his laws, his
ordinances, his Apostolical Canons, and all
the rest. For since he had said, "We are
naked, and are buffered, and have no certain
dwelling place: all these things," saith he,
"he will remind you of;" and also of the laws
of Christ; for destroying all heresies.
Then, carrying his argument higher, he adds,
"which be in Christ;" ascribing all, as was
his wont, unto the Lord, and on that ground
establishing the credibility of what is to
follow. Wherefore he subjoins, "Even as I
teach every where in every church." "Nothing
new have I spoken unto you: of these my
proceedings all the other Churches are cognizant
as well as you." Further: he calls them
"ways in Christ," to shew that they have in
them nothing human, and that with the aid from
that source he doth all things well.
And having said these things and so soothed
them, and being just about to enter on his
charge against the unclean person, he again
utters words full of anger; not that in himself
he felt so but in order to correct them: and
giving over the fornicator, he directs his
discourse to the rest, as not deeming him worthy
even of words from himself; just as we act in
regard to our servants when they have given us
great offence.
Next, after that he had said, "I send
Timothy, lest they should thereupon take things
too easily, mark what he saith:
Ver. 18. "Now some are puffed up, as
though I were not coming unto you." For there
he glances both at them and at certain others,
casting down their highmindedness: since the
love of preeminence is in fault, when men abuse
the absence of their teacher for their own
self-will. For when he addresses himself unto
the people, observe how he does it by way of
appeal to their sense of shame; when unto the
originators of the mischief, his manner is more
vehement. Thus unto the former he saith, "We
are the offscouring of all:" and soothing them
he saith, "Not to shame you I write these
things;" but to the latter, "Now as though
I were not coming to you, some are puffed
up;" shewing that their self-will argued a
childish turn of mind. For so boys in the
absence of their master wax more negligent.
This then is one thing here indicated; and
another is that his presence was sufficient for
their correction. For as the presence of a lion
makes all living creatures shrink away, so also
does that of Paul the corrupters of the
Church.
Ver. 19. And therefore he goes on, "But
I will come to you shortly, if the Lord
will." Now to say this only would seem to be
mere threatening. But to promise himself and
demand from them the requisite proof by actions
also; this was a course for a truly high
spirit. Accordingly he added this too,
saying, "And I will know, not the word of
them which are puffed up, but the power." For
not from any excellencies of their own but from
their teacher's absence, this self-will
arose. Which again itself was a mark of a
scornful mind towards him. And this is why,
having said, "I have sent Timothy," he did
not at once add, "I will come;" but waited
until he had brought his charge against them of
being "puffed up:" after that he saith, "I
will come." Since, had he put it before the
charge, it would rather have been an apology for
himself as not having been deficient, instead of
a threat; nor even so (outws so the King's M
S. outos the rec. text.) would the statement
have been convincing.
But as it is, placing it after the accusation,
he rendered himself such as they would both
believe and fear.
Mark also how solid and secure he makes his
ground: for he saith not simply, "I will
come:" but, "If the Lord will:" and he
appoints no set time.
For since he might perhaps be tardy in coming,
by that uncertainty he would fain keep them
anxiously engaged. And, lest they should
hereupon fall back again, he added,
"shortly,"
"And I will know, not the word of them that
are puffed up, but the power." He said not,
"I will know not the wisdom, nor the signs,"
but what? "not the word:" by the term he
employs at the same time depressing the one and
exalting the other. And for a while he is
setting himself against the generality of them
who were countenancing the fornicator. For if
he were speaking of him, he would not say,
"the power;" but, "the works," the corrupt
works which he did.
Now why seekest thou not after "the word?"
"Not because I am wanting in word but because
all our doings are 'in power.'" As therefore
in war success is not for those who talk much but
those who effect much; so also in this case,
not speakers, but doers have the victory.
"Thou," saith he, "art proud of this fine
speaking. Well, if it were a contest and a
time for orators, thou mightest reasonably be
elated thereat: but if of Apostles preaching
truth, and by signs confirming the same, why
art thou puffed up for a thing superfluous and
unreal, and to the present purpose utterly
inefficient? For what could a display of words
avail towards raising the dead, or expelling
evil spirits, or working any other such deed of
wonder? But these are what we want now, and by
these our cause stands." Whereupon also he
adds, Ver. 20. "For the kingdom of God
is not in word, but in power." By signs,
saith he, not by fine speaking, we have
prevailed: and that our teaching is divine and
really announces the Kingdom of Heaven we give
the greater proof, namely, our signs which we
work by the power of the Spirit. If those who
are now puffed up desire to be some great ones;
as soon as I am come, let them shew whether
they have any such power. And let me not find
them sheltering themselves behind a pomp of
words: for that kind of art is nothing to us.
Ver. 21. "What will ye? Shall I come
unto you with a rod, or in love and a spirit of
meekness?"
There is much both of terror and of gentleness
in this saying. For to say, "I will know,"
was the language of one as yet withholding
himself: but to say, "What will ye? Must I
come unto you with a rod?" are the words of one
thenceforth ascending the teacher's seat, and
from thence holding discourses with them and
taking upon him all his authority.
What means, "with a rod?" With punishment,
with vengeance: that is, I will destroy; I
will strike with blindness: the kind of thing
which Peter did in the case of Sapphira, and
himself in the case of Elymas the sorcerer.
For henceforth he no longer speaks as bringing
himself into a close comparison with the other
teachers, but with authority. And in the
second Epistle too he appears to say the same,
when he writes, "Since ye seek a proof of
Christ speaking in me."
"Shall I come with a rod, or in love?"
What then? to come with a rod, was it not an
instance of love? Of love it was surely. But
because through his great love he shrinks back in
punishing, therefore he so expresses himself.
Further; when he spoke about punishment, he
said not, "in a spirit of meekness, but,
[simply,] "with a rod:" and yet of that too
the Spirit was author. For there is a spirit
of meekness, and a spirit of severity. He doth
not, however, choose so to call it, but from
its milder aspect (apo twn krhstoterwn].)
And for a like reason also, God, although
avenging Himself, has it often affirmed of Him
that He is "gracious and long-suffering, and
rich in mercy and pity:" but that He is apt to
punish, once perhaps or twice, and sparingly,
and that upon some urgent cause.
Consider then the wisdom of Paul; holding the
authority in his own hands, he leaves both his
and that in the power of others, saying.
"What will ye?" "The matter is at your
disposal."
For we too have depending on us both sides of
the alternative; both falling into hell, and
obtaining the kingdom: since God hath so willed
it. For, "behold," saith he, "fire and
water: whichever way thou wilt, thou mayest
stretch forth thine hand" (Ecclus. xv.
16.) And, "If ye be willing, and will
hearken unto me, ye shall eat the good of the
land; (Is, i. 19,) but if ye be not
willing, the sword shall devour you."
But perhaps one will say, "I am willing;
(and no one is so void of understanding as not
to be willing;) but to will is not sufficient
for me." Nay, but it is sufficient, if thou
be duly willing, and do the deeds of one that is
willing, But as it is, thou art not greatly
willing.
And let us try this in other things, if it seem
good. For tell me, he that would marry a
wife, is he content with wishing? By no
means; but he looks out for women to advance his
suit, and request friends to keep watch with
him, and gets together money. Again, the
merchant is not content with sitting at home and
wishing, but he first hires a vessel, then
selects sailors and rowers, then takes up money
on interest, and is inquisitive about a market
and the price of merchandise. Is it not then
strange for men to shew themselves so much in
earnest about earthly things, but that when they
are to make a venture for heaven, they should be
content with wishing only? rather I should
say, not even in this do they shew themselves
properly in earnest. For he that wills a thing
as he ought, puts also his hand unto the means
which, lead to the object of his desire.
Thus, when hunger compels thee to take
nourishment, thou waitest not for the viands to
come unto thee of their own accord, but omittest
nothing to gather victuals together. So in
thirst, and cold and all other such things,
thou art industrious and duly prepared to take
care of the body. Now do this in respect of
God's kingdom also, and surely thou shall
obtain it.
For to this end God made thee a free agent,
that thou mightest not afterwards accuse God,
as though some necessity had bound thee: but
thou, in regard of those very things wherein
thou hast been honored, dost murmur.
For in fact I have often heard people say.
"But why did He then make my goodness depend
on me?" Nay, but how was He to bring thee,
slumbering and sleeping, and in love with all
iniquity, and living delicately, and pampering
thyself; how was He to bring thee up to
heaven? If He had, thou wouldest not have
abstained from vice. For if now, even in the
face of threatening, thou dost not turn aside
from thy wickedness; had he added no less than
heaven as the end of thy race, when wouldest
thou have ceased waxing more careless and worse
by far? (keirwn pollw. pollwn Bened.)
Neither again wilt thou be able to allege, He
hath shewed me indeed what things were good but
gave no help, for abundant also is His promise
to thee of aid.
"But," say you, "Virtue is burden"some
and distasteful; while with vice great
"pleasure is blended; and the one is wide and
"broad, but the other strait and narrow."
Tell me then, are they respectively such
throughout, or only from the beginning? For in
fact what thou here sayest, thou sayest, not
intending it, in behalf of virtue; so potent a
thing is truth. For suppose there were two
roads, the one leading to a furnace, and the
other to a Paradise; and that the one unto the
furnace were broad, the other unto Paradise,
narrow; which road wouldest thou take in
preference? For although you may now gainsay
for contradiction's sake, yet things which are
plainly allowed on all hands, however
shameless, you will not be able to gainsay.
Now that that way is rather to be chosen which
hath its beginning difficult but not its end, I
will endeavor to teach you from what is quite
obvious. And, if you please, let us first
take in hand the arts. For these have their
beginning full of toil, but the end gainful.
"But," say you, "no one applies himself to
an art without some one to compel him; for,"
you add, "so long as the boy is his own
master, he will choose rather to take his ease
at first, and in the end to endure the evil,
how great soever, than to live hardly at the
outset, and afterwards reap the fruit of those
labors." Well then, to make such a choice
comes of a mind left to itself, (orfanikhs
dianoias) and of childish idleness: but the
contrary choice, of sense and manliness. And
so it is with us: were we not children in mind,
we should not be like the child aforesaid,
forsaken (orfanw) as he is and thoughtless,
but like him that hath a father. We must cast
out then our own childish mind, and not find
fault with the things themselves; and we must
set a charioteer over our conscience, who will
not allow us to indulge our appetite, but make
us run and strive mightily. For what else but
absurdity is it to inure our children with pains
at first unto pursuits which have laborious
beginnings, but their end good and pleasant;
while we ourselves in spiritual things take just
the contrary turn?
And yet even in those earthly things it is not
quite plain that the end will be good and
pleasant: since before now untimely death, or
poverty, or false accusation, or reverse of
fortune, or other such things, of which there
are many, have caused men after their long toil
to be deprived of all its fruits. What is
more, those who have such pursuits, though they
succeed, it is no great gain which they will
reap. For with the present life all those
things are dissolved. But here, not for such
fruitless and perishable things is our race,
neither have we fears about the end; but greater
and more secure is our hope after our departure
hence. What pardon then can there be, what
excuse for those who will not strip themselves
for the evils to be endured for virtue's sake?
And do they yet ask, "Wherefore is the way
narrow?" Why, thou dost not deem it right
that any fornicator or lewd or drunken (kai twn
mequontwn] inserted from the King's MS.)
person should enter into the courts of earthly
kings; and claimest thou for men to be let into
heaven itself with licentiousness, and luxury,
and drunkenness, and covetousness, and all
mariner of iniquity? And how can these things
be pardonable?
"Nay," you reply, "I say not that, but
why has not virtue a "broad way?" In good
truth if we be willing, its way is very easy.
For whether is easier, tell me; to dig through
a wall and take other men's goods and so be cast
into prison; or to be content with what you have
and freed from all fear? I have not however
said all. For whether is easier, tell me; to
steal all men's goods and revel in few of them
for a short time, and then to be racked and
scourged eternally; or having lived in righteous
poverty for a short time, to live ever after in
delights? (For let us not enquire as yet which
is the more profitable, but for the present,
which is the more easy.) Whether again is it
pleasanter, to see a good dream and to be
punished in reality; or after having had a
disagreeable dream to be really in enjoyment?
Of course the latter. Tell me then, In what
sense dost thou call virtue harsh? I grant, it
is harsh, tried by comparison with our
carelessness. However, that it is really easy
and smooth, hear what Christ saith, (S.
Mat. xi. 30.) "My yoke is easy, and My
burden is light." But if thou perceivest not
the lightness, plainly it is for want of
courageous zeal; since where that is, even
heavy things are light; and by the same rule
where it is not, even light things are heavy.
For tell me, what could be sweeter and more
easily obtained than the banquet of manna? Yet
the Jews were discontented, though enjoying
such delightful fare. What more bitter than
hunger and all the other hardships which Paul
endured? Yet he leaped up, and rejoiced, and
said, (Col. 1. 24.) "Now I rejoice
in my sufferings." What then is the cause?
The difference of the mind. If then you frame
this as it ought to be, you will see the
easiness of virtue.
"What then," say you, "does she only become
such through the mind of those who pursue her?"
She is such, not from their mind alone, but by
nature as well. Which I thus prove: If the
one had been throughout a thing painful, the
other throughout of the contrary sort, then with
some plausibility might some fallen persons have
said that the latter was easier than the former.
But if they have their beginnings, the one in
hardship, the other in pleasure, but their
respective ends again just opposite to these;
and if those ends be both infinite, in the one
the pleasure, in the other the burthen; tell
me, which is the more easy to choose?
"Why then do many not choose that which is
easy?" Because some disbelieve; and others,
who believe, have their judgment corrupt, and
would prefer pleasure for a season to that which
is everlasting. "Is not this then easy?"
Not so: but this cometh of a sick soul. And
as the reason why persons in a fever long after
cool drink is not upon calculation that the
momentary luxury is pleasanter than being burned
up from beginning to end, but because they
cannot restrain their inordinate desire; so also
these. Since if one brought them to their
punishment at the very moment of their pleasure,
assuredly they never would have chosen it. Thus
you see in what sense vice is not an easy thing.
But if yon will, let us try this same point
over again by an example in the proper subject
matter. Tell me, for instance, which is
pleasanter and easier? (only let us not take
again the desire of the many for our rule in the
matter; since one ought to decide, not by the
sick, but by the whole; just as you might show
me ten thousand men in a fever, seeking things
unwholesome upon choice to suffer for it
afterwards; but I should not allow such
choice;) which, I repeat, brings more ease,
tell me; to desire much wealth, or to be above
that desire? For I, for my part, think the
latter. If thou disbelieve it, let the
argument be brought to the facts themselves.
Let us then suppose one man desiring much,
another nothing. Which now is the better
state, tell me, and which the more
respectable? However, let that pass. For
this is agreed upon, that the latter is a finer
character than the former. And we are making no
enquiry about this at present, but which lives
the easier and pleasanter life? Well then: the
lover of money will not enjoy even what he has:
for that which he loves he cannot choose to
spend; but would gladly even carve
(katakoyeie) himself out, and part with his
flesh rather than with his gold. But he that
despises wealth, gains this the while, that he
enjoys what he has quietly and with great
security, and that he values himself more than
it. Which then is the pleasanter; to enjoy
what one has with freedom, or to live under a
master, namely wealth, and not dare to touch a
single thing even of one's own? Why, it
seemeth to me to be much the same as if any two
men, having wives and loving them exceedingly,
were not upon the same terms with them; but the
one were allowed the presence and intercourse of
his wife, the other not even permitted to come
near his.
There is another thing which I wish to
mention, indicating the pleasure of the one and
the discomfort: of the other. He that is
greedy of gain will never be stayed in that
desire, not only because it is impossible, for
him to obtain all men's goods, but also because
whatever he may have compassed, he counts
himself to have nothing. But the despiser of
riches will deem it all superfluous, and will
not have to punish his soul with endless
desires. I say, punish; for nothing so
completely answers the definition of punishment
as desire deprived of gratification; a thing too
which especially marks his perverse mind. Look
at it in this way. He that lusts after riches
and hath increased his store, he is the sort of
person to feel as if he had nothing. I ask
then, what more complicated than this disease?
And the strange thing is not this only, but
that although having, he thinks he has not the
very things which are in his hold, and as though
he had them not he bewails himself. If he even
get all men's goods, his pain is but greater.
And should he gain an hundred talents, he is
vexed that he hath not received a thousand: and
if he received a thousand; he is stung to the
quick that it is not ten thousand: and if he
receive ten thousand, he utterly bemoans himself
(katakopetai) because it is not ten times as
much. And the acquisition of more to him
becomes so much more poverty; for the more he
receives so much the more he desires. So then,
the more he receives, the more he becomes poor:
since whoso desires more, is more truly poor.
When then he hath an hundred talents, is he not
very poor? for he desires a thousand. When he
hath got a thousand, then he becomes yet
poorer. For it is no longer a thousand as
before, but ten thousand that he professes
himself to want. Now if you say that to wish
and not to obtain is pleasure, you seem to me to
be very ignorant of the nature of pleasure.
To shew that this sort of thing is not pleasure
but punishment, take another case, and so let
us search it out, When we are thirsty, do we
not therefore feel pleasure in drinking because
we quench our thirst; and is it not therefore a
pleasure to drink because it relieves us from a
great torment, the desire, I mean, of
drinking? Every one, I suppose, can tell.
But were we always to remain in such a state of
desire, we should be as badly off as the rich
man in the parable of Lazarus for the matter of
punishment; for his punishment was just this
that vehemently desiring one little drop, he
obtained it not. And this very thing all
covetous persons seem to me continually to
stiffer, and to resemble him where he begs that
he may obtain that drop, and obtains it not.
For their soul is more on fire than his.
Well indeed hath one said, that all lovers of
money are in a sort of dropsy; for as they,
bearing much water in their bodies, are the more
burnt up: so also the covetous, bearing about
with them great wealth, are greedy of more.
The reason is that neither do the one keep the
water in the parts of the body where it should
be, nor the other their desire in the limits of
becoming thought.
Let us then flee this strange and craving
(xenhn kai kenhn): a play on the sound of the
words,) disease; let us flee the root of all
evils; let us flee that which is present hell;
for it is a hell, the desire of these things.
Only just lay open the soul of each, of him who
despises wealth and of him who does not so; and
you will see that the one is like the
distracted, choosing neither to hear nor see any
thing: the other, like a harbor free from
waves: and he is the friend of all, as the
other is the enemy. For whether one take any
thing of his, it gives him no annoyance; or if
whether, on the contrary, one give him aught,
it puffs him not up; but there is a certain
freedom about him with entire security. The one
is forced to flatter and feign before all; the
other, to no man.
If now to be fond of money is to be both poor
and timid and a dissembler and a hypocrite and to
be full of fears and and great penal anguish and
chastisement: while he that despises wealth has
all the contrary enjoyments: is it not quite
plain that virtue is the more pleasant?
Now we might have gone through all the other
evils also whereby it is shewn that there is no
vice which hath pleasure in it, had we not
spoken before so much at large.
Wherefore knowing these things, let us choose
virtue; to the end that we may both enjoy such
pleasure as is here, and may attain unto the
blessings which are to come, through the grace
and loving-kindness,
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