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 [73] . 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 ton chrestoteron.) 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.
[5.] 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 shalt 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? (cheiron pollo. pollon 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.
[6.] "But," say you, "Virtue is burdensome 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, (orphanikes 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 (orphano) 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 ton methuonton 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 manner of iniquity? And how can these things be pardonable?
[7.] "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, (St. Matt. 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. i. 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.
[8.] But if you 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 (katakopseie) 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.