146Father in heaven! You hold all the good gifts in your gentle hand. Your abundance is richer than can be grasped by human understanding. You are very willing to give, and your goodness is beyond the understanding of a human heart, because you fulfill every prayer and give what we pray for or what is far better than what we pray for. Give everyone his allotted share as it is well pleasing to you, but also give everyone the assurance that everything comes from you, so that joy will not tear us away from you in the forgetfulness of pleasure, so that sorrow will not separate you from us, but in joy we may go to you and in sorrow remain with you, so that when our days are numbered and the outer being is wasting away,147 death may not come in its own name, cold and terrible, but gentle and friendly, with greetings and news, with witness from you, our Father who is in heaven! Amen.
148In the world’s capital, in proud Rome, where all the splendor and glory of the world were concentrated, where everything was procured whereby human sagacity and rapaciousness tempt the moment in the anxiety of despair, everything to astonish the sensate person, where every day witnessed something extraordinary, something horrible, and the next day had forgotten it upon seeing something even more extraordinary—in far-famed Rome, where everyone who in any way believed himself able to capture public attention hastened as to his rightful stage, prepared everything in advance for his reception so that he, although intoxicated with self-confidence, might shrewdly avail himself of the scantily allotted and begrudged propitious moment—there lived the Apostle Paul as a prisoner, there he wrote the epistle from which our text is taken. He was brought here as a prisoner, a stranger to all, and yet he brought with him a teaching, of which he witnessed that it was divine truth, communicated to him by a special revelation,149 and the unshakable conviction that this teaching would be victorious over the whole world. If he had been an insurgent who agitated the people and made the tyrant tremble, if he had been taken to Rome as a captive so that the ruler could satisfy his desire for vengeance with Paul’s suffering, could have him martyred with the choicest tortures—yes, then probably for a short time his fate would have shaken everyone in whose breast human feelings were not yet dead, by its horror would have incited the lustful and inquisitive mob for a moment—indeed, the tyrant’s throne might have been overthrown! But Paul was not treated in this way. He was too insignificant for Rome to fear him; his foolishness was too naive for the powers to arm themselves against him. Who was he, then? A man who belonged to a despised people, a man who did not even belong to them any longer but had been cast out from them as an offense—a Jew who had become a Christian, the most lonely, the most abandoned, the most harmless man in all Rome. He was treated as such. His imprisonment was not strict, but he was a prisoner, and he who brought with him that conquering conviction was now assigned the solitude of imprisonment as his sphere of action and the soldier who was ordered to guard him every day.
In the capital city of the world, in tumultuous Rome, where nothing could withstand the unbridled power of time, which swallowed everything as quickly as it made its appearance, [III 298] which consigned everything to forgetfulness without leaving a trace—there lived the Apostle Paul, an insignificant man, in solitary confinement, quiet and unobtrusive, not consigned to being forgotten, since there was no one in the enormous city who knew or cared about his existence. But while everything around him was rushing on in futility, more swiftly than a shadow, for him the conviction stood firm that the teaching he professed would be victorious over the whole world—over the whole world, from which he at present was separated, and the only person he saw was the soldier who guarded him.
When a person who is guilty suffers and bears his punishment patiently, he is not commended for it; but if he is innocent and suffers patiently, then he is commended.150 This is beautiful to contemplate, pleasing to hear, fine to profess—but it is hard to do. Yet by the help of God the person who at heart is devout and fears God will prepare his soul in humility until it rejoices in God again and is calm in the Lord. Then he will rescue himself in patience, even though it would be extremely hard for him to have his expectancy vanish as a dream, to see himself, who wanted to win the whole world, end up by being a prisoner, not even succumbing in the struggle but fading away like a mirage. If there were any who had placed their faith in him and hoped for him, he will remember them, and his soul will not be unacquainted with the painful concern whether they also will abandon him. From his prison he will perhaps write to them, “Do not forsake me now when I am forsaken by all; keep your confidence in me, as you did formerly; do not forget me now when I am forgotten by all.”151 Perhaps he would move their hearts; perhaps some individual would come to him and, if allowed, visit the imprisoned man, grieve with him, comfort him, and be built up by him. It is beautiful to talk about this; the very thought moves the heart of every better person.
But Paul was an apostle. Even though distressed, he nevertheless was always happy; even though he was poor, he always made many rich; even though he had nothing, he nevertheless possessed everything.152 From his captivity, he writes to the distant congregation, “Therefore I ask you not to lose heart over the hardships I am suffering for you, which are your glory.”153 He who himself might seem to need comfort is quickly, as it were, on good terms with God, happy in hardship, undaunted in danger, not occupied with his own [III 299] suffering but concerned for the congregation, and he thinks about his own hardship only insofar as it might cause the congregation to lose heart.
If someone had found peace and tranquillity in his adversity, then the sorrow that others might lose their bold confidence and faith over his misfortunes would perhaps awaken in him new disquietude. Yet the fear of God within him will prevail, and he will trustingly commit those he loves to God’s hand. It is touching to speak of this; every better person certainly feels that this quiet submission is worthy of aspiration. But Paul was an apostle, and he writes from his captivity, “The hardships I am suffering for you are your glory.”
He who has a teaching to commend to people and who strives to win them surely has a witness to which he unhesitatingly directs the single individual. But when this witness fails, then he no doubt perceives that power has been taken from him, and although it is very hard, he nevertheless becomes reconciled with God in his heart. He may sorrow as one abandoned by the bridegroom and by joy,154 but also as one who did not run aimlessly,155 who does not forget that higher than saving others is saving one’s own soul, subjugating the unruly mind to the obedience of faith, keeping the straying thoughts in the bonds of love by the power of conviction. It is beneficial to speak of this, and any honest person certainly confesses that it is blessed to put one’s own house in order this way when one has served one’s time with the great work and has been assigned the lesser.
But now Paul! Did he live in the favor of the mighty so that it could commend his teaching? No, he was a prisoner! Did the wise hail his teaching so that their reputation could guarantee its truth? No, to them it was foolishness.156 Was his teaching capable of quickly supplying the individual with a supranatural power, did it offer itself for sale to people through legerdemain? No, it had to be acquired slowly, appropriated in the ordeal that began with the renunciation of everything. Did Paul, then, have any witness? Yes, indeed—he had every human witness against him, and in addition he had the concern that the congregation would lose heart or, worse yet, be offended at him, because offense surely is never closer than when truth is oppressed, when innocence suffers, when injustice is sure of its victory, when violence is on the increase, when ignorance does not even need to use power against the good but, careless and unconcerned, remains ignorant of its existence. But does Paul, forsaken by the witness, despair? By no means. Since he had no other witness to appeal [III 300] to, he appeals to his hardships. Is this not like a miracle? If Paul had not otherwise effectively demonstrated that he had the power of miracle, is this not a demonstration? To transform hardships into a witness for the truth of a teaching, to transform disgrace into glory for oneself and for the believing congregation, to transform the lost cause into a matter of honor that has all the inspiring force of a witness—is this not like making the cripples walk and the mute speak!
What gave Paul the power for this? He himself had a witness; he was no doubter who in his innermost being retracted the strong thoughts. He had a witness superior to anything in the world,157 a witness that witnessed all the more powerfully the more the world went against him. Was he a weak man, then? No, he was powerful. Was he wavering? No, he was steadfast; he was mightily strengthened by God’s spirit in his inner being.158
Therefore what the apostle desires for every individual in the congregation is what he himself was, what his whole life demonstrates. Even if the situation in his day was different, even if struggle and conflict made it more necessary but also perhaps more difficult to attain this strengthening in the inner being, nevertheless for all ages and in all circumstances it remains the one thing needful for a person, to save his soul in this inner strengthening. After all, every person in all ages does indeed have his struggle and his spiritual trial, his distress, his solitude in which he is tempted, his anxiety and powerlessness when the witness slips away. So let us ponder more closely:
Strengthening in the Inner Being.
Only a thoughtless soul can let everything around it change, give itself up as a willing prey to life’s fickle, capricious changes, without being alarmed by such a world, without being concerned for itself. How unworthy and nauseating such a life is, how far such a life is from witnessing to the human being’s high destiny—to be the ruler of creation. 159If the human being is to rule, then there must be an order in the world; otherwise it would be mockery of him to assign him to control brute forces that obey no law. And if he is to rule, then there must be a law within him also; otherwise he would be incapable of ruling; either he would disturbingly interfere, or it would be left to chance whether he ruled wisely or not. If this were the case, then the human being would be so far [III 301] from being the ruler of creation that creation might wish instead that he did not exist at all. Therefore, just as soon as a person collects himself in a more understanding consideration of life, he seeks to assure himself of a coherence in everything, and as the ruler of creation he approaches it, as it were, with a question, extorts an explanation from it, demands a testimony.
Only the person who has abandoned his soul to worldly appetites, who has chosen the glittering bondage of pleasure and has not managed to extricate himself from its light-minded or heavy-spirited anxiety, only he is satisfied to let the creation bear its witness so that he can shrewdly and prudently use it in the service of the moment. And since the human being is the ruler of creation, it obeys even the unworthy authority. How doleful is such a perdition that does not even think it is living thoughtlessly but instead thinks that it understands everything and in its heart’s aberration thinks it is turning everything to its advantage. When he sees the red sunset in the evening, he says, “Tomorrow will be a beautiful day.” But when he sees the early morning sky red and darkening, he says, “Today there will be a storm,” for he knows how to judge the sky, the weather, and the wind.160 Therefore, he says, “Today or tomorrow I will go to this or that city and stay there a year and bargain and reap profits.”161 When he cultivates his soil intelligently, he counts on a rich yield. His eyes gleam at the sight of the rich crops, at what he may have thoughtlessly called the blessed fruit. He hastily builds his barns larger, since it is easy to predict that the old ones cannot hold this abundance. Then he is secure and happy, praises existence, and goes to bed, but then the text reads: This night I will require your soul from you.162 —His soul from him; is that not asking too much? I wonder if he would understand it. Nothing is said of the rich crops or of the newly erected barns, but what is mentioned is perhaps something he forgot in all this—that he has a soul. —But the person who reflects on life with any earnestness at all readily perceives that he is not the lord in such a way that he is not also a servant, that it is not his superior intelligence alone that distinguishes man from the animals.
Only the person who cravenly runs away from every more profound explanation, who does not have the courage to assume the responsibility of the master by submitting to the obligation of a servant, who does not have the humility to be willing to obey in order to learn how to rule and at all times is [III 302] willing to rule only insofar as he himself obeys—only he fills time with perpetual deliberations that take him nowhere but only serve as a dissipation in which his soul, his capacity for comprehending and willing, vanishes like mist163 and is extinguished like a flame. How doleful is such a self-consuming, how far from witnessing by his life, from giving expression in his life, to a human being’s exalted destiny—to be God’s co-worker.164
165Through every deeper reflection that makes him older than the moment and lets him grasp the eternal, a person assures himself that he has an actual relation to a world, and that consequently this relation cannot be mere knowledge about this world and about himself as a part of it, since such knowledge is no relation, simply because in this knowledge he himself is indifferent toward this world and this world is indifferent through his knowledge of it. Not until the moment when there awakens in his soul a concern about what meaning the world has for him and he for the world, about what meaning everything within him by which he himself belongs to the world has for him and he therein for the world—only then does the inner being announce its presence in this concern.
This concern is not calmed by a more detailed or a more comprehensive knowledge [Viden]; it craves another kind of knowledge, a knowledge that does not remain as knowledge for a single moment but is transformed into an action the moment it is possessed, since otherwise it is not possessed. This concern also craves an explanation, a witness [Vidnesbyrd], but of another kind. If in his knowledge a person could know everything but knew nothing of the relation of this knowledge to himself, then, in his effort to assure himself of the relation of his knowledge to the object, he probably would have demanded a witness, but he would not have comprehended that a completely different witness is required, and then the concern would still not have awakened in his soul. As soon as this awakens, his knowledge will prove to be comfortless, because all knowledge in which a person vanishes from himself, just as 166any explanation provided by knowledge of this kind is equivocal, explains now this and now that, and can mean the opposite, just as any witness of this kind, precisely when it witnesses, is full of deceit and riddles and only engenders anxiety.167 168How, indeed, would a person through this knowledge be sure that his prosperity is God’s grace, so that he dares to rejoice in it and safely devote himself to it, or that it is God’s wrath and is only deceitfully hiding the abyss of perdition from him so that his downfall might be all the more terrible? How would a person through this knowledge be sure that adversity is heaven’s punishment, so that he can allow himself to become crushed by it, or that it is God’s love, which loves him [III 303] in the ordeal, so that he, dauntless and confident in the distress of temptation, may reflect upon love? How would a person through such knowledge be sure that he was placed high in the world and entrusted with much because in him God loved his chosen instrument, or that it was because he was supposed to become a proverb to people, a warning, a terror to others? His knowledge can certainly assure him that everything is going well for him, that everything accommodates itself to him, that everything happens as he wishes, that everything he points to is given to him, that everything goes wrong for him, that everything fails, that every horror he is apprehensive about comes upon him the very next moment, that he is more highly trusted than anyone else—but more this knowledge cannot teach him. And this explanation is extremely equivocal, and this knowledge is extremely comfortless.
169In this concern, the inner being announces itself and craves an explanation, a witness that explains the meaning of everything for it and its own meaning by explaining it in the God who holds everything together in his eternal wisdom and who assigned man to be lord of creation by his becoming God’s servant and explained himself to him by making him his co-worker, and through every explanation that he gives a person, he strengthens and confirms him in the inner being. In this concern, the inner being announces itself—the inner being that is concerned not about the whole world but only about God and about itself, about the explanation that makes the relation understandable to it, and about the witness that confirms it in the relation. At no moment does this concern cease; the knowledge gained is not an indifferent knowledge. For example, if a person were to have in mind deciding this matter once and for all and then being finished with it, so to speak, the inner being would only be stillborn and would vanish again. But if he is truly concerned, then through God everything would serve for strengthening in the inner being, because God is faithful and does not leave himself without witness.170 But God is spirit171 and therefore can give a witness only in the spirit; it is in the inner being. Any external witness from God, if such a thing could be thought of, can just as well be a deception.
172Then prosperity will serve such a person for strengthening in the inner being. We frequently hear people say that life is very deceitful, and however different individuals’ hopes and desires may be, a good many agree that the beautiful demand of the expectations is never fulfilled, even though all too many first [III 304] deceived themselves by seeking consolation in the fancy that once upon a time they did in truth nourish great expectations. Then they complain about the world, that it is a land of wretchedness; about time, that it is hard toil and futile inconvenience that bring a person no closer to his goal but take him further and further away; about people, that they are faithless, or at least lazy, lukewarm, and selfish; about themselves, that they, like everything else in life, do not turn out to be what they once thought they were; about the whole order of things here on earth, that every empty and external affair prospers, that the deed that is mighty in verbiage is crowned, the sentiment whose potency consists in platitudes is praised, the distress that proves itself by screaming finds sympathy, but that the honest effort wins nothing but ingratitude and lack of appreciation, that quiet, inward feeling meets nothing but misunderstanding, and deep, solitary grief meets nothing but abuse. Seldom is heard a more earnest voice that enjoins everyone to be open to life’s schooling and to allow oneself to be brought up in the school of adversity, a tested discourse that with all emphasis asks, “Is it the rich who are to be saved,173 is it the mighty who walk the narrow way,174 is it the happy who deny themselves, is it the learned and wise who accept the scorned truth?” 175This discourse, however, is ignored, but the complaint continues to sound—not only that the single individual has adversity in his life, but that all life is nothing but adversity, and that this makes all existence a dark saying that no one can understand.
But prosperity, it is easy to understand. And yet—Job was an old man and had grown old in the fear of God; he offered a burnt offering for each of his children whenever they went to a banquet.176 —“But prosperity is easy to understand”—and yet even the fortunate person cannot understand it himself. 177Look at him, that lucky one whom good fortune delighted to indulge in everything. He does not work, and yet he is a Solomon in magnificence; his life is a dance, his thought is intoxicated with wishful dreaming, and every dream is fulfilled; his eyes are satiated more swiftly than they crave, his heart conceals no secret desire, his hankering has learned to recognize no boundary. But if you were to ask him where it all comes from, he would probably answer light-mindedly, “I myself do not know.” Being light-minded, he probably would even be amused by his answer as a joke quite in keeping with everything else, but he would not comprehend or even suspect what he actually said and how he passed judgment on himself. The civil authorities see to it that everyone keeps what legitimately [III 305] belongs to him. When they find a person whose abundance and wealth astonish everyone, they demand from him an explanation of the source. But if he cannot explain it, he is suspected of not having obtained it by honest means, of not being in legitimate possession of it, of perhaps being a thief. Human justice is only a very imperfect semblance of divine justice. It keeps a watchful eye on every human being. If a person, in reply to its question as to the source of it all, has no other answer than that he himself does not know, then it judges him, then it turns out to cast suspicion on him that he is not in legitimate possession of it. This suspicion is not a servant of justice but is justice itself; it is this that accuses and judges and pronounces the sentence on him and guards his soul in prison so that it does not escape.
What, then, is required of the fortunate person? What else but a strengthening in the inner being? But he had no concern, no inner being; if it had ever existed, it had vanished and was blotted out. But the person in whose soul the inner being announces itself in that concern does not become happy when good fortune indulges him in everything. He is invaded by a secret horror of the power that is bent on capriciously squandering everything in this way; it makes him anxious about being involved with it. It seems as if in return it demanded of him something so terrible that he scarcely has a name for the anxiety over it. He would receive with thankfulness a much smaller portion if he might only know from whom it comes. But this is what the concern within him craves, this explanation, this witness. If he were placed on the top of a mountain to gaze out over all the kingdoms and countries of the world and were told, “This is all yours,”178 he would first want to know who had put him there, whom he was to thank. But if good fortune nevertheless goes on persecuting him, as he might say, his concern becomes greater and greater; but as the concern grows, his soul gains strengthening in the inner being. In this way, prosperity would become for him an occasion for concern to increase, and in this way prosperity would serve him for strengthening in the inner being because he who possesses the whole world and thanks God is strengthened in the inner being. 179Then he will rejoice in quite another way than that fortunate person does, because he who has the whole world and is as one who does not have it180 has the whole world—otherwise he is possessed by the world. Then he rejoices in all the good gifts, but he rejoices even more in [III 306] God and with God, who gave them. Then he feasts his eyes on the splendor of the earth, rejoices that the storerooms are full; then he enlarges his barns.181 Then he goes to sleep secure, and when he hears, “This night I will require your soul from you,” he understands this demand, is ready at once, and is better informed about his soul, which he will take along with him, than about all the magnificence he possessed and is now abandoning, all the magnificence he delighted in, and which day by day became for him a strengthening in the inner being through his thanksgiving.
“But prosperity is so easy to understand,” and yet not even the favored can properly understand it. Just look at the favored one whom nature equipped with all magnificence, to whom it gave power and sagacity and strength of mind and dauntlessness of heart and perseverance of will. Look at him! 182Why does he sometimes quake inwardly, he who made the whole world quake? Why does he sometimes blanch inwardly, he who dominated everything by his sagacity? Why does he sometimes feel powerless in his innermost being, he who intrepidly faced everything? Or is it not something to make one shudder in a period of quiet, to make one feel faint in an odd moment—to have power and not know for what purpose one has it! Civil justice keeps watch so that everyone stays within his bounds, so that each individual may serve the whole. When it discovers a man whose power is attracting everyone’s attention, it demands that he explain for what purpose he uses it, and if he is unable to do so, he is suspected of not being a good citizen but perhaps a thug. Human justice is only a semblance of divine justice, which also directs itself to the single individual and its scrutiny is more rigorous. If it meets a person who, on being asked for what purpose he has this power, can give no other answer than that he himself does not really know, then justice turns out to cast suspicion on him. Perhaps it does not take the power from him, since he may not have misused it yet, but the suspicion becomes an anxiety in his soul that awakens when he least expects it. What does such a person lack? What else but strengthening in the inner being?
But the person in whose soul the inner being announces itself in that concern does not rejoice when he discovers that he has power. He becomes uneasy, almost afraid for himself. With anxiety he ascertains how much he is able to do. But when he nevertheless cannot get rid of the power, his concern and the anxiety in his heart increase—until this concern engenders strengthening in the inner being. Then he knows not only [III 307] that he has power, but he also knows what that favored one did not know—to whom the honor is due and to whom it legitimately belongs. Then he rejoices every time his efforts are crowned with success, then he longs to reach the goal of his striving, but he rejoices even more in God, longs even more for the moment when he, with his God, will rejoice that they succeeded. Then his soul embraces the whole world, and his plans are far-reaching, but when in the stillness of the night he hears, “Make an accounting of your stewardship,”183 he knows what this summons means, he knows where he has the balance sheet, and even if there are deficiencies in it, he cheerfully leaves the world of thoughts and achievements in which he nevertheless did not have his soul, leaves the elaborately complicated and far-reaching work that from day to day had been the occasion for strengthening in the inner being.
“But prosperity is so easy to understand”—and yet at times it is not understood even by the person who is intimate with adversity. Just look at him! He had learned that there is distress in life; in cruel misfortunes, he had confessed to himself how weak and powerless a person is in his own strength. Yet he did not give up courage, he did not become despondent, he kept on working. Whether he achieved anything thereby, whether he progressed or retrogressed, whether he moved or stood still he did not know, because a great darkness had spread around him and it was like a continual night. Yet he exerted himself to the utmost of his strength. See! Then the sun of prosperity rose again, illuminated everything, explained everything, assured him that he had come a long, long way, that he had attained what he had been working for. Then he cried out in his joy, “It just had to happen this way, since a person’s efforts are not fruitless and meaningless toil.” 184With that he had spoiled everything and had received no strengthening in the inner being. He had forgotten his confession in the period of distress, forgotten that fulfillment is not more certain because it has come than it was when he had confessed that he could not count on attaining it through his own strength. Adversity he had understood, but prosperity he could not understand. Then the inner being went out, as it were, in his soul. Or if justice visited him and asked him for an explanation, would it be satisfied with his answer? He [III 308] could better have understood the Lord in the pillar of fire that once shone in the night, but when daylight came, he could not see the pillar of cloud.185 —But, on the other hand, the person in whose soul the inner being announces itself in that concern won a complete strengthening in the inner being when the day of joy triumphed over darkness, since to accept the joy without this concern about the witness would indeed be an abandonment of oneself in a delusion. But he accepted the witness with joyful thankfulness, because it came to one whom it did not find sleeping. And the inner being increased day by day in favor with God. And when in time the Lord called the servant away, he knew the way and left everything, and he took along only the witnesses, in which he had had his blessedness.
“But prosperity is so easy to understand,” and yet frequently the unfortunate person does not understand it, either, or really know of what he speaks. One may speak cheerfully to a fortunate person; if what is said does not appeal to him, he can, of course, rejoice in his own good fortune and disregard the speaker. With the unfortunate person, it is another matter, lest what is said become a new torment if it does not appeal to him, lest he become more impatient if he thinks that the one speaking has himself experienced nothing, and feel it as a new indignity that someone who is unfamiliar with his suffering wants to comfort him. But whoever said it, it nevertheless remains true that the unfortunate person often does not understand what prosperity is. And yet in another sense, who understands it better than the unfortunate? Who would know how to speak about the delights of riches better than the one who lives on crumbs, who would describe power and might more glowingly than the person who sighs in bondage, who would portray the beauty of human society more ravishingly than the person who lives in solitude? But the one who would know how to describe it may not always have understood himself; but if he did not understand himself, how could he understand in a deeper sense what is outside him? But if, on the other hand, he understood himself or tried to understand himself, if he truly was concerned about understanding himself, if the inner being announced itself within him in that concern, then he will understand prosperity, then he will understand the significance of its being denied him, then he will not occupy himself with flights of fancy and fortify himself with dreams but in his adversity will be concerned about himself.
186 Then adversity will serve such a person for strengthening in the inner being. And how would it not be so? The inner being does [III 309] indeed announce itself in that concern, and adversity does indeed allow precisely the external, the visible, and the tangible to vanish and to be confused, but does it therefore always call the inner being into existence? Hardship does indeed make everyone concerned, but does it always make one concerned about God? Has not life more frequently affirmed the truth of those earnest words that are spoken by the same one who warned against prosperity and that therefore have the ring of profound meaning: “that hardships, too, are temptations.” Look at him, the concerned one! Look more closely at him—you hardly recognize him from the time he walked out into life very joyful, strong, and confident. His destiny in life was to him so clear and so desirable; his mind knew his ambition, and his heart was in it; his strength worked trustingly—and hope promised him success. There is a hope that is heaven’s fatherly gift to the child, a hope that grows with the child, a hope with which the young person goes out into life. This hope guarantees everything for him. Indeed, who but the Lord God in heaven gave him this hope? Should it not, then, be valid out in the wide world, in all the kingdoms and countries that belong to the heavenly king, who gave it to him! But this was not the case, and soon hardships had wrested from the stronger or tricked from the weaker his beautiful hope. Then everything became confused for him. No longer was there a sovereign in heaven; the wide world was a playground for the wild pandemonium of life; there was no ear that brought the confusion together in harmony, no guiding hand that intervened. No matter how a person could find consolation in life, hope was lost, so he thought, and hope remained lost. Then his soul grew concerned. And the more he stared down at the anarchy into which everything seemed to have disintegrated, the more power it gained over him, until it completely bewitched him; his mind reeled, and he himself plunged down into it and lost himself in despair. Or even though concern did not acquire such a seductive power over him, his soul nevertheless became aloof and alien to everything. He saw what others saw, but his eyes continually read an invisible handwriting in everything, that it was emptiness and illusion. Or he withdrew from people and murderously wore out his soul in cares, in gloomy thoughts, in the barren service of turbulent moods. What did such a person lack, what did he fail to win when he lost everything—what else but strengthening in the inner being?
187But the person who had this concern in his soul before the arrival of the concern that comes from the outside, the person whose soul was never satisfied by joy in such a way that it lost concern about the witness but was not overwhelmed [III 310] by the external concern in such a way that the possibility of joy vanished so long as he was still concerned about the witness—for him, the concern that came from the outside little by little became a friend. It joined the concern within him; it prevented him from being mistaken about life; it helped him to allow his soul to sink deeper and deeper into concern until it discovered the witness. Then little by little he became lighter and lighter; he gradually threw overboard the worldly weight of earthly desires and rested with the witness in God, blessed by the hope that he had won. So there is, then, a hope that Scripture declares is gained through experience.188 What experience might Scripture mean? Might it be the experience in which a person makes sure that he obtains everything for which he hopes? Scripture says that this experience is the fruit of spiritual trial. But the world cannot take away such hope, because it is acquired in tribulation and becomes strong through tribulation. Adversity helped him to gain strengthening in the inner being. The person who learned what he learned from what he suffered,189 and learned the good from what he suffered, gained not only the best learning but what is much more—the best instructor—and the person who learns from God is strengthened in the inner being. Then even if he lost everything, he would still gain everything, and Abraham possessed nothing but a burial place in Canaan,190 and yet he was God’s chosen one.
191Consider him, the person who was wronged. He complains not about life but about the people who corrupt everything and embitter what God made good. Consider him a bit more closely. You hardly recognize him from the time when, young and confident, he went forth into life full of expectancy, his countenance so open, his heart so warm, his soul in such a hurry to meet everyone; for him there was only delight and glory. But it did not remain that way. People’s deceit, as he thought, had soon tricked him out of his faith; people’s cunning had ridiculed his openness; people’s coldness and selfishness had vitiated his enthusiasm, people’s envy had plunged down his courage, his energy, his fervor, his proud striving, and his glorious achievement into the same wretchedness in which they themselves live. However one bears life, he thought, people are lost. Then everything became confused for him: there was no God who intended everything for good, but everything was left up to human beings who intended [III 311] everything for evil. But the more his soul stared down into the abyss of dark passions that arose in him, the greater was the power that the anxiety of temptation gained over him, until he himself plunged down into it and lost himself in despair. Or even though the pain did not sweep him off his feet in this way, he stood case-hardened among his fellow human beings; he saw the same thing that had happened to him repeat itself in others, but he felt no sympathy. Indeed, what good would it have done anyway, since he had no comfort to offer. Or he hid from people in order in solitude of soul to immerse himself in his bleak wisdom, to fathom the thought of despair in all its horror. Or he became bent like a reed, languishing in a slowly consuming sadness, an anxiety to himself and to everyone who witnessed how he was being snuffed out.
But the person in whose soul the inner being announced itself in that concern of which we speak, the person whose soul no human being’s love filled in such a way that the witness departed from his thoughts, that person probably never found people to be as that wronged person found them, and yet he perhaps found them to be different from what he had hoped and wished them to be. But even though the terrible thing happened, even though people rose up against him as assailants or deserted him as deceivers, even though the enemy persecuted him, even though the friend betrayed him, even though envy laid snares for his feet, what were they able to do to him? They could increase his concern; they could help him to drive from his soul every feeling through which he belonged to creation in such a way that he did not also belong to the Creator. But they could not prevent the concern about God that was present in his soul from seeking its object more deeply and inwardly. And one who seeks God always finds, and he who constrains a person to seek helps him to find. Then his soul in its concern sought more and more inwardly until he found the witness. The person who loves God is strengthened in the inner being, and the person who loved people, and only through this love learned, as it were, to love God, has had only an imperfect upbringing; but the person who loved God and in this love learned to love people was strengthened in the inner being. If someone denied him his love, then that person helped him to find God’s love, which is more blessed than anything that arose in a human heart;192 if some friend denied him comfort, then he helped him to find God’s comfort, which is beyond measure; if the world denied [III 312] him its approval, then it helped him to seek God’s, which passes all understanding.
193Consider him, the person who was tried, who was tested in the distress of spiritual trial. Perhaps you did not see him very often, because spiritual trial does not always come with visible signs. He was not tested in what we actually call adversity; people did not forsake him. On the contrary, externally, everything was beautiful and friendly. Yet his soul was in distress, and since this was not due to the external world, he could not seek people’s comfort either. Outwardly everything was going well, and yet his soul was in anxiety, devoid of trust and bold confidence. He did not seek peace and tranquillity in externals, and yet his heart continued to be troubled. Then the inner being within him drooped; it seemed to him as if his outward success were only for the purpose of preserving his inner suffering so that he would not find relief even in the tribulations of the world; it seemed to him as if it were God himself who laid his powerful hand on him, as if he were a child of wrath,194 and yet he could not come any closer to understanding or explaining how this could be. Then his innermost being rebelled within him, then he did what is related in an old devotional book: “he boasted that he was lost,”195 and that it was God himself who had plunged him down into damnation. Then the inner being within him froze.
But the person in whose soul the inner being announced itself in that concern of which we speak did not relinquish the concern. Even if he did not find the explanation, he nevertheless did find the explanation: that he should wait for the explanation. He nevertheless did find the explanation, that God was testing him; he nevertheless did find the comfort, that when God tests the time of testing can certainly become very long, but that God can make up for everything because to him one day is as a thousand years.196 Then he became more calm in his distress. He did not flee the pain of spiritual trial; it became for him a confidant, a friend in disguise, even though he did not comprehend how, even though he strained his thought in vain to explain his riddle. But his calmness and humility increased in proportion to his concern, so that, however much he suffered, he always chose to remain with his spiritual trial rather than to be any other place in the world. Then at last the witness dawned in the full assurance of faith, because he who believes God contrary to the understanding is strengthened in [III 313] the inner being. For him the spiritual trial served as a strengthening in the inner being; he learned the most beautiful thing of all, the most blessed—that God loved him, because the one God tests he loves.197
For such a person, then, prosperity and adversity serve for strengthening in the inner being. But nobody can provide this strengthening for himself; indeed, the one who receives a witness is not the one who gives it. Paul also reminds us of this in our text,198 because the witness itself is a gift from God, from whom comes every good and perfect gift,199 the most glorious gift of all, a gift from the Father in heaven, from whom all fatherliness in heaven and on earth derives its name. These are the apostle’s words, and he ascribes the strengthening in the inner being to this fatherliness of God and ascribes it to him in such a way that God’s love shows itself as fatherly love in this very expression, the strengthening in the inner being. We call God “Father”; we rest happily and confidently in this name as the most beautiful, the most uplifting, but also the truest and most expressive of names, and yet this expression is a metaphorical expression drawn from earthly life, even though from the most beautiful of earthly relations. But if the expression is figurative, metaphorical, does it actually reach up to heaven to describe what it is supposed to describe, or does it not dwindle away the higher it ascends, like an earthly longing, which always speaks only obscurely. 200Yes, to one who looks at the external, the expression remains figurative and unreal; if he thinks that God gives the good gifts as a father gives them, but yet in such a way that it is the gifts that demonstrate, so to speak, that God is our Father, then he is judging externally, and for him truth itself becomes figurative. But the inner being looks not at the gifts but at the giver. For the inner being, the human distinction between what might be called gift and what language is not inclined to designate as gift vanishes in the essential, in the giver; for the inner being, joy and sorrow, good and bad fortune, distress and victory are gifts; for it, the giver is primary. Then the inner being understands and is convinced that God is a Father in heaven201 and that this expression is not metaphorical, imperfect, but the truest and most literal expression, because God gives not only the gifts but himself with them in a way beyond the capability of any human being, who 202can be present in the gift only in a feeling or in a mood, not essentially, cannot penetrate infinitesimally the total content of the gift, cannot be completely present in the whole gift, even less completely present in the least part of it. Therefore, if it ever seemed to you, my listener, as your thoughts emigrated from the paternal home, lost their way out in the world in order to rise to the conception of him, [III 314] the almighty God, Creator of heaven and earth as the common Father of all, that you nevertheless lost something thereby, namely, some of the preferential love that was yours in the paternal home, because you were but a child and he was your earthly father, your father alone, then we shall not deny that the metaphor might not seem to you to be entirely appropriate. 203But when you came to him, your earthly father, happy beyond measure because you had gained the whole world, and you surely found him happy (how could he not rejoice with the happy one,204 especially with the happy one who was dearer to him than all else), but still, precisely because he loved you, he was happy only on the chance that what you had gained would not become your ruin—and, on the other hand, happy because you had gained the whole world, you came to your heavenly Father, and he shared your joy completely, precisely because your rejoicing with him was an unfailing guarantee that what you had gained would serve you for good—or when in sadness and tears you came to your earthly father and you surely found him weeping (how could he not weep with the one who weeps,205 especially with the weeping one he loved more than all else), but still you could not really make yourself understandable to him, and so he grieved more because you were grieving than over that which grieved you—and, on the other hand, in sadness and with troubled soul, you came to your heavenly Father, who is the only one who has ears to hear what is said in secret and the fatherliness rightly to understand it—or when you, troubled and depressed, came to your earthly father and found him weak and wavering, without comfort for you, and his sorrow only increased your pain—and, on the other hand, crushed and shattered, you came to your heavenly Father and found him strong, and all the stronger the weaker you were, willing to help, and all the more willing the greater the distress then, my listener, the metaphor is not entirely appropriate either. Then you perceived that it is not because you have a father or because human beings have fathers, that it is not for this reason that God is called Father in heaven, but it is as the apostle says—from him all fatherliness in heaven and on earth derives its name. Therefore, even though you had the most loving father given among men, he would still be, despite all his best intentions, but a stepfather, a shadow, a reflection, a simile, an image, a dark saying about the fatherliness from which all fatherliness in heaven and on earth derives its name. Oh, my listener, have you grasped this blessedness, or, rather, has my discourse reminded you of what you possess better and more inwardly and more fully and more blessedly than I can describe it; or, rather, has my discourse disturbed for you [III 315] nothing of what you did possess, for what is more blessed than this thought, which no good fortune, no favor, no concern, no insult, no spiritual trial, neither things present nor things to come206 can wrench from a person but only serve to confirm and to strengthen.
207The very first, so they say, is the most beautiful, and the heart is attached to it: to the first person who welcomed him in the hour he was counted among the living, the first sky that arched over the place of his birth, to the first language that is called his mother tongue, to the first people who are called his ancestors, to the first teaching that expanded his soul, to the first peers who understood him, to the first idea that inspired him, to the first love that made him happy—blessed is the person who could truthfully say: God in heaven was my first love; blessed is the person whose life was a beneficent strengthening of this love; blessed is the person who, even though in his life he made the mistake of taking the outer instead of the inner, even though his soul in many ways was ensnared by the world, yet was again renewed in the inner being by turning back to his God, strengthened in the inner being.