|
1 COR. XI. 28.
But let a man prove himself, and so let him eat
of the bread, and drink of the cup.
WHAT mean these words, when another object
is proposed to us? This is Paul's custom, as
also I said before, not only to treat of those
things which he had proposed to himself, but
also if an argument incidental to his purpose
occur, to proceed upon this also with great
diligence, and especially when it relates to
very necessary and urgent matters. Thus, when
he was discoursing with married persons, and the
question about the servants fell in his way, he
handled it very strenuously and at great length.
Again, when he was speaking of the duty of not
going to law before those courts, then also
having fallen upon the admonition respecting
covetousness, he discoursed at length concerning
this subject likewise. Now the same thing he
hath also done here: in that having once found
occasion to remind them of the Mysteries, he
judged it necessary to proceed with that
subject. For indeed it was no ordinary one.
Wherefore also he discoursed very awfully
concerning it, providing for that which is the
sum of all good things, viz. their approaching
those Mysteries with a pure conscience. Whence
neither was he content with the things said
before alone, but adds these also, saying,
"But let a man prove himself:" which also he
saith in the second Epistle: "try your own
selves, prove your own selves:" (2 Cor.
xiii. 5.) not as we do now, approaching
because of the season rather than from any
earnestness of mind. For we do not consider how
we may approach prepared, with the ills that
were within us purged out, and full of
compunction, but how we may come at festivals
and whenever all do so. But not thus did Paul
bid us come: he knoweth only one season of
access and communion, the purity of a man's
conscience. Since if even that kind of banquet
which the senses take cognizance of cannot be
partaken of by us when feverish and full of bad
humors, without risk of perishing: much more is
it unlawful for us to touch this Table with
profane lusts, which are more grievous than
fevers. Now when I say profane lusts, I mean
both those of the body, and of money, and of
anger, and of malice, and, in a word, all
that are profane. And it becomes him that
approacheth, first to empty himself of all these
things and so to touch that pure sacrifice. And
neither if indolently disposed and reluctantly
ought he to be compelled to approach by reason of
the festival; nor, on the other hand, if
penitent and prepared, should any one prevent
him because it is not a festival. For a
festival is a showing forth of good works, and a
reverence of soul, and exactness of deportment.
And if thou hast these things, thou mayest at
all times keep festival and at all times
approach. Wherefore he saith, "But let each
man prove himself, and then let him approach."
And he bids not one examine another, but each
himself, making the tribunal not a public one
and the conviction without a witness.
Ver. 29. "For he that eateth and drinketh
unworthily, eateth and drinketh judgment to
himself."
What sayest thou, tell me? Is this Table
which is the cause of so many blessings and
teeming with life, become judgment? Not from
its own nature, saith he, but from the will of
him that approaches. For as His presence,
which conveyed to us those great and unutterable
blessings, condemned the more them that received
it not: so also the Mysteries become provisions
of greater punishment to such as partake
unworthily.
But why doth he eat judgment to himself? "Not
discerning the Lord's body:" i.e., not
searching, not bearing in mind, as he ought,
the greatness of the things set before him; not
estimating the weight of the gift. For if thou
shouldest come to know accurately Who it is that
lies before thee, and Who He is that gives
Himself, and to whom, thou wilt need no other
argument, but this is enough for thee to use all
vigilance; unless thou shouldest be altogether
fallen.
Ver. 30. "For this cause many among you
are weak and sickly, and not a few sleep."
Here he no longer brings his examples from
others as he did in the case of the
idol-sacrifices, relating the ancient histories
and the chastise-merits in the wilderness, but
from the Corinthians themselves; which also
made the discours, apt to strike them more
keenly. For whereas he was saying, "he eateth
judgment to himself," and, "he is guilty;"
that he might not seem to speak mere words, he
points to deeds also and calls themselves to
witness; a kind of thing which comes home to men
more than threatening, by showing that the
threat has issued in some real fact. He was not
however content with these things alone, but
from these he also introduced and confirmed the
argument concerning hell-fire, terrifying them
in both ways; and solving an inquiry which is
handled everywhere. I mean, since many
question one with another, "whence arise the
untimely deaths, whence the long diseases of
men;" he tells them that these unexpected
events are many of them conditional upon certain
sins. "What then? They who are in continual
health," say you, "and come to a green old
age, do they not sin?" Nay, who durst say
this? "How then," say you, "do they not
suffer punishment?" Because there they shall
suffer a severer one. But we, if we would,
neither here nor there need suffer it.
Ver. 31. "For if we discerned
ourselves," saith he, "we should not be
judged."
And he said not, "if we punished ourselves,
if we were revenged on ourselves," but if we
were only willing to acknowledge our offence, to
pass sentence on ourselves, to condemn the
things done amiss, we should be rid of the
punishment both in this world and the next. For
he that condemns himself propitiates God in two
ways, both by acknowledging his sins, and by
being more on his guard for the future. But
since we are not willing to do even this light
thing, as we ought to do it, not even thus doth
He endure to punish us with the world, but even
thus spareth us, exacting punishment in this
world, Where the penalty is for a season and
the consolation great; for the result is both
deliverance from sins, and a good hope of things
to come, alleviating the present evils. And
these things he saith, at the same time
comforting the sick and rendering the rest more
serious. Wherefore he saith, Ver. 32.
"But when we are judged, we are chastened of
the Lord."
He said not, we are punished, he said not, we
have vengeance taken on us, but, "we are
chastened." For what is done belongs rather to
admonition than condemnation, to healing than
vengeance, to correction than punishment. And
not so only but by the threat of a greater evil
he makes the present light, saying, "that we
may not be condemned with the world." Seest
thou how he brings in hell also and that
tremendous judgment-seat, and signifies that
that trial and punishment is necessary and by all
means must be? for if the faithful, and such as
God especially cares for, escape not without
punishment in whatsoever things they offend,
(and this is evident from things present,)
much more the unbelieving and they who commit the
unpardonable and incurable sins.
Ver. 33. "Wherefore when ye come together
to eat, wait one for another."
Thus, while their fear was yet at its height
and the terror of hell remained, he chooses
again to bring in also the exhortation in behalf
of the poor, on account of which he said all
these things; implying that if they do not this
they must partake unworthily. But if the not
imparting of our goods excludes from that
Table, much more the violently taking away.
And he said not, "wherefore, when ye come
together, impart to them that need," but,
which has a more reverential sound, "wait one
for another." For this also prepared the way
for and intimated that, and in a becoming form
introduced the exhortation. Then further to
shame them, Ver. 34. "And if any man is
hungry, let him eat at home."
By permitting, he hinders it, and more
strongly than by an absolute prohibition. For
he brings him out of the church and sends him to
his house, hereby severely reprimanding and
ridiculing them, as slaves to the belly and
unable to contain themselves. For he said not,
"if any despise the poor," but, "if any
hunger," discoursing as with impatient
children; as with brute beasts which are slaves
to appetite. Since it would be indeed very
ridiculous, if, because they were hungry they
were to eat at home.
Yet he was not content with this, but added
also another more fearful thing, saying, "that
your coming together be not unto judgment:"
that ye come not unto chastisement, unto
punishment, insulting the Church, dishonoring
your brother. "For for this cause ye come
together," saith he, "that ye may love one
another, that ye may profit and be profited.
But if the contrary happen, it were better for
you to feed yourselves at home."
This, however, he said, that he might attract
them to him the more. Yea, this was the very
purpose both of his pointing out the injury that
would arise from hence, and of his saying that
condemnation was no trifling one, and terrifying
them in every way, by the Mysteries, by the
sick, by those that had died, by the other
things before mentioned.
Then also he alarms them again in another way,
saying, "and the rest will I set in order
whensoever I come:" with reference either to
some other things, or to this very matter. For
since it was likely that they would yet have some
reasons to allege, and it was not possible to
set all to rights by letter, "the things which
I have charged you, let them be observed for
the present," saith he; "but if ye have any
thing else to mention, let it be kept for my
coming;" speaking either of this matter, as I
said, or of some other things not very urgent.
And this he doth that hence too he may render
them more serious. For being anxious about his
coming, they would correct the error. For the
sojourning of Paul in any place was no ordinary
thing: and to signify this he said, "some are
puffed up, as though I would not come to
you;" (1 COR. IV. 18.) and elsewhere
again, "not as in my presence only, but now
much more in my absence, work out your own
salvation with fear and trembling." (Phil.
ii. 12.) And therefore neither did he
merely promise that he would come, lest they
should disbelieve him and become more negligent;
but he also states a necessary cause for his
sojourning with them, saying, "the rest I
will set in order when I come; which implies,
that the correction of the things that remained,
even had he not in any case been desirous, would
have drawn him thither.
Hearing therefore all these things, let us both
take great care of the poor, and restrain our
appetite, and rid ourselves of drunkenness, and
be careful worthily to partake of the
Mysteries; and whatsoever we suffer, let us
not take it bitterly, neither for ourselves nor
for others; as when untimely death happen or
long diseases. For this is deliverance from
punishment, this is correction, this is most
excellent admonition. Who saith this? He that
hath Christ speaking in him.
But nevertheless even after this many of our
women are so foolishly disposed as even to go
beyond the unbelievers in the excess of their
grief. And some do this blinded by their
passion, but others for ostentation, and to
avoid the censures of them that are without: who
most of all are deprived of excuse, to my mind.
For, "lest such a one accuse me," saith
she, "let God be my accuser: lest men more
senseless than the brute beasts condemn me, let
the law of the King of all be trampled under
foot." Why, how many thunderbolts do not
these sayings deserve?
Again; If any one invite you to a funeral
supper after your affliction there is no one to
say any thing against it, because there is a law
of men which enjoins such things: but when God
by His law forbids your mourning, all thus
contradict it. Doth not Job come into thy
mind, O woman? Rememberest thou not his words
at the misfortune of his children, which adorned
that holy head more than ten thousand crowns,
and made proclamation louder than many trumpets?
Dost thou make no account of the greatness of
his misfortunes, of that unprecedented
shipwreck, and that strange and portentous
tragedy? For thou possibly hast lost one, or a
second, or third: but he so many sons and
daughters: and he that had many children
suddenly became childless. And not even by
degrees were his bowels wasted away: but at one
sweep all the fruit of his body was snatched from
him. Nor was it by the common law of nature,
when they had come to old age, but by a death
both untimely and violent: and all together,
and when he was not present nor sitting by them,
that at least by hearing their last words he
might have some consolation for so bitter an end
of theirs: but contrary to all expectation and
without his knowing any thing of what took
place, they were all at once overwhelmed, and
their house became their grave and their snare.
And not only their untimely death, but many
things besides there were to grieve him; such as
their being all in the flower of their age, all
virtuous and loving, all together, that not one
of either sex was left, that it befel them not
by the common law of nature, that it came after
so great a loss, that when he was unconscious of
any sin on his own part or on theirs, he
suffered these things. For each of these
circumstances is enough even by itself to disturb
the mind: but when we find them even concurring
together, imagine the height of those waves,
how great the excess of that storm, And what in
particular is greater and worse than his
bereavement, he did not even know wherefore all
these things happened. On this account then,
having no cause to assign for the misfortune, he
ascends to the good pleasure of God, and
saith, "The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken
away.:" as it pleased the Lord, even so it
happened "blessed be the name of the Lord for
ever." (Job ii. 21.) And these things
he said, when he saw himself who had followed
after all virtue in the last extremity; but evil
men and impostors, prospering, luxurious,
revelling on all sides. And he uttered no such
word as it is likely that some of the weaker sort
would have uttered, "Was it for this that I
brought up my children and trained them with all
exactness? For this did I open my house to all
that passed by, that after those many courses
run in behalf of the needy, the naked, the
orphans, I might receive this recompense?"
But instead of these, he offered up those words
better than all sacrifice, saying, "Naked
came I out of my mother's womb, and naked
shall I return thither." If however he rent
his clothes and shaved his head, marvel not.
For he was a father and a loving father: and it
was meet that both the compassion of his nature
should be shown, and also the self-command of
his spirit. Whereas, had he not done this,
perhaps one would have thought this self-command
to be of mere insensibility.
Therefore he indicates both his natural
affection and the exactness of his piety, and in
his grief he was not overthrown.
Yea, and when his trial proceeded further, he
is again adorned with other crowns on account of
his reply to his wife, saying, "If we have
received good at the hand of the Lord, shall we
not endure evil?" (Job ii. 10.) For in
fact his wife was by this time the only one
left, all his having been clean destroyed, both
his children and his possessions and his very
body, and she reserved to tempt and to ensnare
him. And this indeed was the reason why the
devil did not destroy her with the children, nor
asked her death, because he expected that she
would contribute much towards the ensnaring of
that holy man. Therefore he left her as a kind
of implement, and a formidable one, for
himself. "For if even out of paradise,"
saith he, "I cast mankind by her means, much
more shall I be able to trip him up on the
dunghill."
And observe his craft. He did not apply this
stratagem when the oxen or the asses or the
camels were lost, nor even when the house fell
and the children were buried under it, but so
long looking on the combatant, he suffers her to
be silent and quiet. But when the fountain of
worms gushed forth, when the skin began to
putrify and drop off, and the flesh wasting away
to emit most offensive discharge, and the hand
of the devil was wearing him out with sharper
pain than gridirons and furnaces and any flame,
consuming on every side and eating away his body
more grievously than any wild beast, and when a
long time had been spent in this misery; then he
brings her to him, seasoned and worn down.
Whereas if she had approached him at the
beginning of his misfortune, neither would she
have found him so unnerved, nor would she have
had it in her power so to swell out and
exaggerate the misfortune by her words. But now
when she saw him through the length of time
thirsting for release, and desiring the
termination of what pressed on him vehemently
then doth she come upon him. For to show that
he was quite worn down, and by this time had
become unable even to draw breath, yea, and
desired even to die, hear what he saith; "For
I would I could lay hands on myself, or could
request another and he should do it for me;"
And observe, I pray, the wickedness of his
wife, from what topic she at once begins:
namely, from the length of time, saying,
"How long wilt thou hold out?"
Now, if often even when there were no realities
words alone have prevailed to unman a person,
consider what it was likely he then should feel,
when, besides these words, the things
themselves also were galling him; and what, as
it should seem, was worst of all, it was a wife
also who spake thus, and a wife who had sunk
down utterly and was giving herself up, and on
this account was seeking to cast him also into
desperation. However, that we may see more
clearly the engine which was brought against that
adamantine wall, let us listen to the very
words. What then are these? "How long wilt
thou hold out? saying, Lo! I wait a short
time longer, expecting the hope of my
salvation." "Nay," saith she, "the time
hath exposed the folly of thy words, while it is
protracted, yet shows no mode of escape." And
these things she said, not only thrusting him
into desperation, but also reproaching and
jesting upon him.
For he, ever consoling her as she pressed upon
him, and putting her off, would speak as
follows: "Wait a little longer, and there
will soon be an end of these things."
Reproaching him therefore, she speaks: "Wilt
thou now again say the same thing? For a long
time hath now run by, and no end of these things
hath appeared." And observe her malice, that
she makes no mention of the oxen, the sheep or
the camels, as knowing that he was not very much
vexed about these; but she goes at once to
nature, and reminds him of his children. For
on their death she saw him both rending his
clothes and shaving off his hair. And she said
not, "thy children are dead," but very
pathetically, "thy memorial is perished from
the earth, "the thing for which thy children
were desirable." For if, even now after that
the resurrection hath been made known children
are longed for because they preserve the memory
of the departed; much more then. Wherefore
also her curse becomes from that consideration
more bitter. For in that case, he that
cursed, said not, "Let his children be
utterly rooted out," but, "his memorial from
the earth." "Thy sons and thy daughters."
Thus whereas she said, "the memorial," she
again accurately makes mention of either sex.
"But if thou," saith she, "carest not for
these, at least consider what is mine." "The
pains of my womb, and labors which I have
endured in vain with sorrow." Now what she
means is this: "I, who endured the more, am
wronged for thy sake, and having undergone the
toils I am deprived of the fruits."
And see how she neither makes express mention of
his loss of property, nor is silent about it and
hurries by; but in that point of view in which
it also might be most pathetically narrated, in
that she covertly refers to it. For when she
says, "I too am a vagabond and a slave, going
about from place to place, from house to
house," she both hints at the loss and
indicates her great distress: these expressions
being such as even to enhance that misfortune.
"For I come to the doors of others," saith
she; "nor do I beg only, but am a wanderer
also and serve a strange and unusual servitude,
going round everywhere and carrying about the
tokens of my calamity, and teaching all men of
my woes;" which is most piteous of all, to
change house after house. And she stayed not
even at these lamentations, but proceeded to
say, "Waiting for the sun when it will set,
and I shall rest from my miseries and the pains
that encompass me, by which I am now
straitened. "Thus, that which is sweet to
others," saith she, "to behold the light,
this to me is grievous: but the night and the
darkness is a desirable thing. For this only
gives me rest from my toils, this becometh a
comfort to my miseries. But speak somewhat
against the Lord, and die." Perceivest thou
here too her crafty wickedness? how she did not
even in the act of advising at once introduce the
deadly counsel, but having first pitifully
related her misfortunes and having drawn out the
tragedy at length, she couches in a few words
what she would recommend, and doth not even
declare it plainly, but throwing a shade over
that, she holds out to him the deliverance which
he greatly longed for, and promises death, the
thing which he then most of all desired.
And mark from this also the malice of the
devil: that because he knew the longing of Job
towards God, he suffers not his wife to accuse
God, lest he should at once turn away from her
as an enemy. For this cause she no where
mentions Him, but the actual calamities she is
continually harping on.
And do thou, besides what has been said, add
the circumstance that it was a woman who gave
this counsel, a wonderful orator to beguile the
heedless. Many at least even without external
accidents have been cast down by the counsel of
woman alone.
What then did the blessed saint, and firmer
than adamant? Looking bitterly upon her, by
his aspect even before he spake, he repelled her
devices: since she no doubt expected to excite
fountains of tears; but he became fiercer than a
lion, full of wrath and indignation, not on
account of his sufferings, but on account of her
diabolical suggestions; and having signified his
anger by his looks in a subdued tone he gives his
rebuke; for even in misfortune he kept his
self-command. And what saith he? "Why
speakest thou as one of the foolish women?"
"I have not so taught thee," saith he, "I
did not so nurture thee; and this is why I do
not now recognize even mine own consort. For
these words are the counsel of a 'foolish
woman,' and of one beside herself." Seest
thou not here an instance of wounding in
moderation, and inflicting a blow just
sufficient to cure the disease?
Then, after the infliction, he brings in
advice sufficient on the other hand to console
her, and very rational, thus speaking: "if we
have received our good things at the hand of the
Lord, shall we not endure our evils?" "For
remember," saith he, "those former things and
make account of the Author of them, and thou
wilt bear even these nobly." Seest thou the
modesty of the man? that he doth not at all
impute his patience to his own courage, but
saith it was part of the natural result of what
happened. "For in return for what did God
give us these former things? What recompense
did he repay? None, but from mere goodness.
For they were a gift, not a recompense; a
grace, not a reward.
Well then, let us bear these also nobly."
This discourse let us, both men and women,
have recorded, and let us engrave the words in
our minds, both these and those before them:
and by sketching upon our minds as in picture the
history of their sufferings, I mean the loss of
wealth, the bereavement of children, the
disease of body, the reproaches, the mockings,
the devices of his wife, the snare of the
devil, in a word, all the calamities of that
righteous man, and that with exactness, let us
provide ourselves with a most ample port of
refuge: that, enduring all things nobly and
thankfully, we may both in the present life cast
off all despondency, and receive the rewards
that belong to this good way of taking things;
by the grace and mercy of our Lord Jesus
Christ, with Whom to the Father, with the
Holy Ghost, be glory, power, and honor, now
and forever, world without end. Amen.
|
|