fall asleep, but is not able to. At last he becomes impa- tient; he says: "What good does it do to lie here if I can- not sleep?" He gets up again, yet not to work, for now he can neither work nor sleep. For if it is true that one rises up so refreshed from the rest of sleep that it is sometimes almost tempting to stay in bed and not get up, then truly, after a vain attempt to sleep, it is in another sense diffi- cult to get up; truly, after a vain attempt to sleep, one gets up even more tired.
The difficulty for the older person, which doubtless is also the advantage of authority and maturity, is that 2l6 he has a two-fold task: he must work to find the task and to get it definitely established, and then he must work to discharge the task. And that which makes it difficult con- sists exactly in getting the task clearly in mind, or in establishing what the task really is. Perhaps men are after all not so unwilling to spend time and industry, nor are they incapable— if only it could become indubitably clear to them what their task is. But the trouble is that the communication of this cannot in any decisive sense fall to one's lot from without; it must come through the person concerned himself. The adult is indeed authoritative, he is to be his own master. But it is the Lord and Master who will assign the task, as the parents and superiors do with respect to the child; hence the adult is at one and the same time master and servant; the one who is to command and the one who must obey are one and the same. That the one commanding and the one obeying are one and the same is undeniably a difficult relationship; it can so easily happen that the servant in- trudes in the consideration of the task and, conversely, that the master pays too much attention to the complaint of the servant over the hardships involved in performing his task. Alas, then confusion enters, so a man, instead of being his own master, becomes unstable, doubtful, fickle; he runs from one thing to the other, he tears down and builds up and begins from the beginning, he is tossed about by every gust, yet without moving from his place; moreover, the relationship at last becomes so preposter- ous that his whole strength is exhausted in hitting upon ever newer innovations in the task— like a plant which runs to seed, so he runs wild in fussy reflections or in unfruitful desires. In a certain sense he expends much time, much industry, much energy, and it is all as if THE NARROWNESS IS THE WAY 217 wasted, because the task is not established, because there is no master, for he should indeed be his own master. When a team of horses must pull a heavy load, what can the driver do for them? Of course, he cannot himself pull it, and the mediocre driver can whip them, as can anyone, but the competent driver, what can he do for them? He can help them to get headway in pulling the wagon by concentrating their whole strength in a single moment and in a single start. If, on the contrary, the driver causes a misunderstanding, if he curbs them so that the horses think that they should merely be ready to pull together at a given signal— but the driver meant that they should pull now; or if he pulls on the reins unevenly, so that one horse thinks that it is to pull, the other, that the driver is merely holding it in so that they will start together: aye, then the wagon does not move, even if the horses have plenty of strength. But as one, not without a certain distress, sees this sight, sees that there is strength enough, but that the one who is master, the driver, wastes it: so one sees, not without distress, when a man behaves in a similar way. He does not lack strength, and a man never really does, but he wastes it; he who should be master (and that is certainly himself), demoralizes his energy— such a man works with scarcely one-third of his strength expended in the right place, and with more than two-thirds applied in the wrong place, or against himself. Now he stops the work in order to begin re- flecting on it from the beginning, now he works instead of reflecting, now he foolishly pulls on the reins, now he wishes to do both things at once— and in spite of all this he never moves from the place; in spite of all this, life comes, as it were, to a standstill; he cannot get the task so firmly fixed that it is established, while he may break 2l8 away from this labor and have his strength ready to per- fect the task. The task does not become a burden, but he has plenty to do with the burdensome: bungling through the task in order if possible to get it established. If this is the case, then naturally he never comes to bear the bur- den; he cannot even once get it established; at the mo- ment, so to speak, he will turn his back in order to take up the burden, it is as if the burden fell off, and he must again pile it up. Alas, when one observes human life, one must frequently say with sadness: "They do not themselves know what energies they have; they more or less prevent themselves from learning, because with their many energies they work against themselves."
Let us then consider more carefully the subject of this discourse. The sufferer is in affliction: now for it. If he can only get the task established, then he will surely suc- ceed in holding out; if he immediately knows definitely what the task is, then much is already gained. But doubt will if possible prevent this; it wishes slyly to draw all his strength away from him, and to let it serve in the wrong place, in discovering what the task is, or in a thousand inventions with respect to what it might be. If this happens, if doubt triumphs, if it fools him into striving where he should not strive, then must he suc- cumb to affliction.
Is it not then a joyful thought that it is true that afflic- tion is the way? For then it is indeed immediately clear what the task is. Doubt wishes to make the sufferer won- der if it might not still be possible for the affliction to be taken away, and he still continue to walk on the same way— without affliction. But if affliction is the way, then it is indeed impossible for it to be taken away, and the way still remain the same. Doubt wishes to make the THE NARROWNESS IS THE WAY 219 sufferer wonder if it were not possible that he had mis- taken the way, that the fact that there is affliction might not mean that he is on the wrong road. But when the affliction is the way, the fact that there is affliction on the way cannot possibly signify that he has gone wrong; on the contrary, this is the sign that he is on the right way. Doubt wishes to make him wonder if it would not be pos- sible to go another way. But when affliction is the way, then it is indeed impossible to walk on some other way. Consequently, there can be no doubt as to what the task is; not one single moment, not the least bit of strength, is to be used in additional reflection; this, that afflic- tion is the way, establishes the task, makes it certain what the task is. And truly, however hard the affliction may be, no affliction is still so hard as this affliction of restless thoughts in a doubtful and irresolute soul.
The sufferer then holds out; he goes forward in afflic- tion on the way of perfection— but the affliction becomes harder and harder. Now that is as it should be. But if only the task is established, then much is already gained; and far be it from us to help to circulate the lying reports, that little by little it becomes easier on the narrow way, that it is only the beginning that is narrow. The relation is precisely reversed, it becomes harder and harder. We can easily make sure of this, if we only pay attention to men and wish to see. There is perhaps very rarely found a man who has not at some time made a beginning in will- ing the good, but most men fall away just when it appears that the way is becoming'harder instead of easier. If a man has advanced so far that all illusions about wishing the good to a certain degree, about the good to a certain degree having a worldly reward, disappear; if he really becomes earnest in wishing the good, only then does the 220 220 way really become hard, and from now on harder and harder. One is always correct in saying this, lest one de- ceive men by fabulous stories, entice them one moment in order in the next moment to make them even more impatient. But that which contains no deceit, the ever- lasting certainty is: that affliction is the way. So there must not be one single moment, not one bit of strength used in further reflection: the task is established, affliction is the way.
If anyone then wishes to make the sufferer believe that others walk the same way so easily, so carefree, without afflictions, while he walks in tribulation, then the task is again established; the sufferer has but one answer: the affliction is the way. Far be it from us, too, this hypocrit- ical talk about things being so different in life, so that some travel on the same way without tribulation, others in tribulation. For it is indeed possible that some walk without affliction, but truly, he does not walk on the same way without affliction as the one who walks in affliction, for the affliction is the way. There is a certain worldly prudence which does not like to break absolutely with the good, but also dislikes exceedingly to renounce ab- solutely the good days and worldly advantage of effemi- nacy; this prudence is really very resourceful in the kind of invention, that it is so different— not in life, for in that there is no untruth, that it is so different on the way of perfection. Let us recall what was explained at the beginning of this discourse, that in the spiritual sense the way is this: how it is traveled. Lo, when a poor wayfarer, whose feet are possibly sore, wincing at every step, almost drags himself forward on the way: then there is, even if it is never right for him to be envious, nevertheless, much good sense in the thought of envy- THE NARROWNESS IS THE WAY 221 ing the rich who ride by him in comfortable carriages. For the highway is completely indifferent to the distinc- tion of how one travels it, and too it is undeniably pleasanter to drive in a comfortable carriage than to walk so oppressed. But in the spiritual sense the way is: how it is traveled; and then it would certainly be a strange thing if on the way of affliction there was the difference that there were some who walked on the way of affliction without afflictions. Thus the task is again established; the sufferer at once knows definitely what the task is, for the affliction is the way. If someone travels without afflictions, then so be it; then he merely goes on another road, which is his own affair. But doubt cannot lay hold on the sufferer and make him doubtful by the thought that others walk on the same way without afflictions.
If what the proverb says is true, that well begun is half done, then it is also true that establishing what the task is, is half the labor, aye, more than half. But since the affliction is the way, the task is also established; not even Satan himself is able to smuggle in a doubt as to what the task is. If doubt is to secure full scope, then the affliction must be brought into an accidental relation to the way. Thus if a wayfarer is speaking about a road and says: "This way is hard," then something accidental may be expressed by that, perhaps that there is another way which is easy, and which nevertheless leads to the same destination. Or the way may perhaps be easy at other times, but just at this time it is difficult. On the other hand, when affliction is the way, then every doubt about affliction being the task, is an attempt to go— on the wrong way, since there is only one single way, the way of affliction which the sufferer is on. The doubt con- cerning the task has its stronghold constantly in the idea 222 222 that there might be other ways, or that the way might be changed so that the affliction would be taken away. But when affliction is the way, then the affliction cannot be taken away without taking away the way, and there cannot be other ways, but only a wrong way.
Is this then not a joyful thought, joyful for the sufferer, who is on the way of affliction, joyful because it does not need even the slightest reflection as to whether the way is the right one, joyful because he can immediately begin on the task, begin with the concentration which has all its strength collected and ready to endure the affliction. For when affliction is the way, then it is surely not in a disconsolate sense the unavoidable, by no means; he could not indeed wish to avoid it, since it is the way. With this thought the sufferer is at once under full head- way to endure the affliction; he cannot so much as waste a moment or spare a glance to look about him; no, he is in affliction with all his might, joyful in affliction, re- joicing in the thought that the affliction is the way. That is, it is not really the task which gives strength, for the task is indeed that which is prescribed, for whose accom- plishment the one to whom the task is assigned must use his strength; and yet we may say that the task gives strength. If the parents know how to set a task with authority, if a driver knows from experience how to set the task, then it helps indescribably. And so too for adults, when the task is fixed with the authority of eternity, then it helps indescribably in performing the task. If a child is so unfortunate as to have a father who does not know how to command, or a horse is so unfortunate as to have a mediocre driver: then it looks as if the child and the horse do not have half the strength they actually possess. Alas, and when the adult, who is a sufferer, gives THE NARROWNESS IS THE WAY 223 his own soul into the power of the fickle and inconstant: then he is actually weaker than a child. But then it is also joyful that the affliction is the way, for then it is imme- diately established, and established immovably, what the task is.
The affliction is the way— and this constitutes the joy: that it is consequently not a characteristic of the way, that it is hard, but a characteristic of the affliction, that it is the way, so the affliction must consequently lead to something, it must be something practicable and appre- ciable, not superhuman. Each of these thoughts contains a more closely edifying determination of this joy, and therefore we shall pause to consider each separately.
It is not a distinguishing quality of the way that it is hard, but a distinguishing quality of the affliction that it is the way. The more closely the affliction and the way are connected with each other, the more firmly established also is the task. When it is said: the way is hard, then the latter is a closer determination of the way; there are two thoughts: the way— and the fact that it is hard. Then we say: "It is indeed true, the way is actually hard." But then there are still two thoughts, so it is as if the doubt were granted a little concession, as if it might here squeeze itself in between the way and the fact that it is hard; as if the doubt might still have something for itself, when it wishes to make the sufferer wonder whether it might not be possible that there could be a way without its being hard, or without being as hard as it presumably is; for doubt whispers: "The question must be solved thus, the way, and after that: it is hard." But if the affliction is the way, then must doubt expire, then it cannot possibly recover. One determination is not then superior to the other; the whole assertion does not split itself, for the apprehension, 224 224 into a noun and an adjective, no, they are one and the same: the affliction is the way, and the way is the afflic- tion; they belong together so exactly that doubt cannot even draw its breath between them, for they are one thought; they belong together so exactly that the rela- tionship between the affliction and the way is one of inseparability. A closer relationship can never exist. Take the affliction away and you take the way away; take the way away, then you take the affliction away. So exact- ly do they belong together, so firmly is the task estab- lished.
The affliction must lead to something. That is, one cannot draw an inference in this way: a way is hard, con- sequently it must lead to something. In so far as a way is a way, the inference is valid, that it must lead to some- thing, for as soon as it does not lead to something, it also ceases to be a way. The inference is valid in so far as the way is a way, but not because it is hard; this adjective makes it, for one who is not yet strong in the faith, almost, as it were, more doubtful whether the way can also lead to something. If, on the contrary, the affliction itself is the way, then the conclusion follows: it must lead to something. For here the inference is not drawn from the fact that it is hard, but from the fact that it is the way.
These are the Master's own words: "Narrow is the way which leadeth unto life"; and when He has said that, it is everlastingly established. Truly, we do not commend the fact that someone has gone astray in a multiplicity of thoughts; oh, but if that were the case, then will we gladly assist him with a more imperfect expression of the same thing, more imperfect, because it is only understood by one who was not unacquainted with doubt, and therefore is also only temporarily serviceable to him, until he again THE NARROWNESS IS THE WAY 225 learns the more perfect expression: to hold solely to the words of the Master. Certainly, the fact that the Master has said these words is still the most assured defense against doubt; for to believe it, in the sense of obedience, is still far more certain than the certain: that, in the sense of thought, it is impossible for the thought to doubt it. Alas, because it is impossible for thought, it does not fol- low from that that it is impossible for the thinking man; he can, for all that, despondently or defiantly, will to doubt. However, if it is not the Master's own word, that the affliction is the way, it is nevertheless His teaching, for does He not teach that affliction is profitable? So it is He, nevertheless, who vouches for the words. For this a man can do; he can clearly and with clear thoughts ex- plain what the thought implies, but he cannot vouch for the thought— only the authority can do that; and only He, who is the sole authority, can vouch for all authority. When it is said: "Narrow is the way which leads to eternal life," then the thought is this: well, it is true that the way is narrow, the affliction an obstacle, a hin- drance on the way; one must go through, but then it also leads to eternal happiness. Consequently, affliction is a barrier, a hindrance on the way, yet one must go through. But if the affliction itself is the way, what wonder then that one must go through, what wonder then that the affliction leads to something! Doubt will gladly deprive the sufferer of confidence, will let him stick in affliction, perish in the despondent, aye, the presumptuous thought, that he is forsaken of God, as if he had fallen into a way which could only circumscribe him, as if it were in a despondent sense that the Apostle said: "We are all ap- pointed to afflictions" (I Thess. 3:3), as if there were no purpose in the affliction, but we were merely destined 226 to affliction. If, on the contrary, the purpose of the afflic- tion is to be the way, then there is immediately a breath of air, then the sufferer breathes, then it must lead to something; for then the affliction itself is indeed prefer- ment. It is not a difficulty on the way, which, if I may speak in this way, makes a new relay necessary, but the affliction itself is a relay, the best relay; if one but lets it advise, then it helps one forward, for the affliction is the way.
Is this not joyful! How confidently the sufferer can breathe in this thought! He not only commits himself into the hands of God and goes to meet the affliction; no, he says: "The affliction itself is a sign to me that I am well advised, the affliction is my helper— for the affliction is the way." As long as the child still has a timid fear of the teacher, it can no doubt learn much; but when confidence has driven out the fear, and fearlessness has triumphed; then the higher instruction begins. And thus, too, when the sufferer, assured that the affliction is the way, has overcome the affliction; for is not this in the higher sense overcoming affliction, to be willing to believe that the affliction is the way, is the helper! The Apostle Paul says somewhere, "Faith is our victory," and in another place, "Yea, we are more than conquerors." But can one do more than conquer? Yes, if before the strife begins he has transformed the enemy into a friend. That is what it means to conquer in affliction, to overcome affliction, as one overcomes an enemy, assuming that the affliction is one's enemy. But it is more than conquering to believe that the affliction is one's friend, that it is not an obstacle on the way, but the way, not the hindering but the improving, not the discouraging but the ennobling.
The affliction must be something appreciable, prac- THE NARROWNESS IS THE WAY 227 ticable. What is it that can appear on a road and block it, so it becomes impassable? It is affliction. But when the affliction is the way, then is this way unconditionally passable. The sufferer can, if he so will, imagine the afflic- tion increasingly terrible; this makes no difference one way or the other— it is everlastingly certain that the afflic- tion is the way, and so it becomes impossible to imagine an affliction that can obstruct this way. Also one may see from this that the affliction may lead to something. For what could prevent a way from leading to something, what other than affliction. But if this cannot come as an obstruction on this way, then this way must eternally lead to something.
Wonderful! The way of affliction is the only one where there is no hindrance, for the affliction itself prepares the way instead of blocking it. But is not this good news! For what is more distressing than when a wayfarer must say: "Here there is no longer a path." And hence what is more joyful than that a wayfarer constantly dares say: "Here there is always a way!"