The affliction is not superhuman. No, if it were so, then would the way be blocked, and affliction would not be the way. The Apostle Paul says: "No temptations have befallen you except the human; but God will make both the temptation and the escape such that you may be able to bear it." But has God not made the tempta- tion bearable when from eternity He has arranged it so that the affliction itself is the way? Then the affliction is made endurable once for all. And how can it be better assured that there is always a good way out of tempta- tion, than when the affliction is itself the way? For then the affliction is always a way out, and a good way out of the affliction.
228 The superhuman temptation will tower high above a man; like the precipitous mountain which leads the way- farer to despair, so the superhuman temptation will frighten the sufferer, transform him into a creeping thing, compared with the magnitude of the temptation. As a natural force belittles human effort, so will the superhuman temptation, strutting haughtily, proudly mock the poor sufferer. But, thank heaven, there are no superhuman temptations, there is only a lying fable, in- vented by a timorous or a cunning individual, who wishes to shift the guilt from his own shoulders, to dimin- ish his own guilt by magnifying the temptation, to justify himself by making the temptation superhuman. The Scriptures say exactly the opposite; they not only say that there is no superhuman temptation, but they say in another place, where the discourse concerns the horror, in expectation of which men's hearts shall fail them from fear, they say to the believer: "When this happens, then lift up your heads." Consequently, the temptation has no superhuman magnitude; on the contrary, when the affliction is most terrible, the believer is taller by a head, a head taller, aye, he is indeed a head taller, as he rises above the affliction. And when the affliction is the way, then is the believer also above the affliction; for the way on which a man goes certainly does not go over his head; no, when he walks on it, then he plants his foot on it.
Thus there is a perpetual joy contained in the thought that the affliction is the way. The sufferer immediately knows definitely what the task is; he can immediately begin on it with all his might; no doubt can come sneak- ing in between the way and the affliction, for they are eternally inseparable; and therefore it is eternally certain that this way must lead to something, for here no afflic- THE NARROWNESS IS THE WAY 229 tion can obstruct the way, which is always passable, as the affliction is never superhuman.
It must certainly never be forgotten, it must again be said here in conclusion, that the second point still re- mains: how the sufferer is to walk on the way of afflic- tion. Oh, but if it is true that it will be of little use to a man with a cold heart to cling to a dead understanding: truly the understanding which keeps a man happy and warm in affliction will also strengthen him for the next step: to walk rightly on the way of affliction. And that with a sure spirit, without doubt in the belief that the affliction in which a man finds himself is the way; is it not also the way to walk rightly on the way of affliction!
X THE GLORY OF OUR COMMON HUMANITY IF IT is true that the sorrow of concern, especially the longer and the more deeply it penetrates into the soul, or the longer it penetrates profoundly into the soul, also establishes itself more firmly: then it is indeed profitable to consider some diversion for the troubled soul, although not in the sense that the world frequently and foolishly enough recommends— the wild restlessness or the noisy stupefaction of vain diversions. If then the concerned one feels himself forsaken and yet, through a self-contradiction in his sorrow, does not desire sympathy, because this confining and restricting presses too closely upon him, so that he winces almost as much from the sym- pathy as from the pain: then if one leads him out into an environment where there is nothing to remind him of his sorrow— not even sympathy, where sympathy is, as it were, and yet is not; an environment which has the touch- ing nearness of sympathy, in so far as it is sympathy, and also the soothing remoteness of sympathy, in so far as it is not sympathy.
This is the way the Gospel read leads the concerned individual out into the field, into surroundings which will include him in the great common life, which will gain for him the great fellowship of existence. But since the concern has now established itself firmly within him, it is evident that something must be done to get his eyes and mind diverted from it.
For this there are two exercises which the Gospel recommends. For if the concerned "beholds the lily" at THE GLORY OF OUR COMMON HUMANITY 231 his feet, then he looks down at it; and when he looks down at the lily, he does not see his concern. It is of course pos- sible that in his sorrow he usually walked with bowed head, looked down and saw his concern; but if he looks down in order to see the lily, then he looks away from his concern. And if, according to the account in the Gospel, he looks at the bird in the air, then he looks up at it, and if he looks up at the bird, then he does not see his own concern. Of course it is possible that in his sorrow he also sometimes looked up when he sent a concerned sigh up to God, and followed it with a glance of concern; but if he looks up in order to see the bird in the air, then he is looking away from his concern.
How can one better describe the fact of the concern having established itself in a man's soul, than by saying that it is as when the eye stares? When the eye stares then it looks fixedly before it, it constantly sees one thing, and yet it does not really see that, because, as science explains, it sees only its own seeing. But then the physi- cian says: "Move your eye." And so the Gospel says: "Divert your mind, look down at the lily and refrain from staring at your concern; look up at the bird and stop staring at your concern." If, then, the tears stop while the eye is looking down at the lily, is it not as if it were the lily that dried the tears! When the wind dries the tears from the eyes that are following the bird, is it not then as if it were the bird that dried the tears! Even if the loved one sits by and wipes away the tears, if the concerned one still continues to weep, is this then really to dry the tears? But the one who causes the concerned to stop weeping, he dries the tears.
This is what we venture to call a godly diversion, not as the vain and worldly diversion excites impatience and 232 fosters the concern, but as the diversion which diverts, soothes and persuades, the more devoutly the concerned yields himself to its influence. Human ingenuity has in- vented a great many things to amuse and divert the mind, and yet the law for this kind of invention mocks the fruit- less striving by the self-contradiction of the diversion. The art itself is at the service of impatience; more and more impatiently it learns to compress the multitude of diversions into a short-lived moment: the more this in- genuity increases the more it works against itself, since it appears that as the ingenuity increases, the diversion con- stantly lasts for a shorter and shorter time. Let us take an example, where the vain and worldly diversion shows it- self as slight and self-contradictory as it is. Fireworks indeed delight the eye and divert the mind when the elaborate, blazing ephemerality is lighted in the darkness of the night. And yet, if it lasts merely one hour the spec- tator grows weary; if but one brief moment intervenes before each new ignition, then the spectator grows weary. The task of ingenuity is therefore to speed it up faster and faster; the highest, the most perfect performance consists in burning the whole display in a very few minutes. But if the purpose of the diversion is to while away the time, then the contradiction appears clearly, that the diversion, when it represents the most perfect art, may only while away a few moments— the more fearfully it becomes precisely evident how long the time is. One pays money then for admittance to a tension of impa- tience in having to await the beginning of the entertain- ment, and in the same moment it is over. As those antic flames blaze and immediately vanish into nothing, so must the soul be of him who knows only such diversions: THE GLORY OF OUR COMMON HUMANITY 233 in the moment of diversion he despairs over the length of time it takes.
Ah, how different are the godly diversions! For have you ever seen the star-lit heavens, and have you ever found any more authentic spectacle! It costs nothing, so there is no prompting of impatience; it does not say, "To- night, not later than ten o'clock sharp." Oh, no, the heavens wait for you, even if in another sense they do not wait for you— as the twinkling stars shine in the night, so have they shone unchanged for thousands of years. As God makes Himself invisible, alas, because of that there are many who perhaps have never really noticed Him: so the starry heaven makes itself, as it were, insignificant; alas, perhaps that is the reason why there are so many who have never really seen it. The divine Majesty dis- dains the visible, the false obviousness; the solemnity of the starlit heavens is more than unostentatious. Oh, but if you stand quietly, if you perhaps went out there with- out any particular motive, where year out and year in, unappreciated, it is visible; if accidentally you were to pause and turn your glance upward— you would still find it true that its persuasiveness increases with every mo- ment; more and more movingly it draws you away from the temporal; what is to be forgotten sinks into deeper and deeper oblivion with every moment you continue to observe the starry heavens. O godly diversion! You do not disloyally and treacherously call yourself a diver- sion, while with empty noise and driving impatience you are still in a covenant with boredom, into which you plunge men deeper and deeper— through the diversion; no, you are in a covenant with the eternal, and therefore only the beginning is difficult; when it is made, then the 234 quiet of the diversion increases and in it the persuasive- ness.
Thus it is with everything in nature; it seems insig- nificant, and yet it is so infinitely right. If therefore you are going hastily on an important errand, and your way leads you along the sea shore— then take advantage of it! It is indeed true that no one calls to you, you hear no invitation, there is neither the voice of approval nor the thunder of cannon, as in human recreations; and yet, take advantage of it! Hasten, lest by pausing a moment you perhaps discover the persuasiveness in the uniformity of the swelling billows. And so, too, with the lily of the field and the bird in the air. If you are hurrying "to your fields, to your trade, to your wife"— and a bird flies past you, then do not watch its flight, for if your eye follows it, then you perhaps would pause too long watching the bird. If it is during working hours, when one must give attention to his work, if the harvest-hand whets his scythe briskly and swings it against the grain, then let him not look at the lily at his feet, lest it persuade him, so that both the lily and the harvest-hand remain standing.
But the concerned, he is not admonished; on the con- trary, the Gospel prompts him to go out into the field, and then to stand still, in order to observe the lily and the bird, so that the godly diversion may cause the staring eye to move, may divert the mind within which the concern has established itself. Consider the lily, see how it stands in loveliness at your feet; do not despise it; indeed it still waits for you that you may enjoy its beauty! See how it sways back and forth, shakes everything from it so that it may continue to be lovely! See how it sports with the wind, quivers with every movement, so that quiet again it may rejoice in its happy existence! See how gentle THE GLORY OF OUR COMMON HUMANITY 235 it is, always willing to jest and play, while by yielding it still triumphs over the most violent storm, and weath- ers it! Behold the bird in the air, see where it flies; per- haps it comes from far away, from far, far happier scenes —but then those indeed still exist; perhaps it flies away, far away, to far more distant regions— then let it take your concern with it! And it does it without noticing the bur- den, if only you continue to look after it. See where it now soars, it rests— in infinite space; hence it rests where no rest seems possible! See how it finds its way; and what way through all the adversities and afflictions of a human life is yet so difficult as the "mysterious way of a bird through the air"! Hence there is a way and a way to find, where no way seems possible.
However, as all diversion is intended not only to pass the time but also chiefly to give the concerned individ- ual something else to think of, we shall now consider how the concerned, who looks at the lily and the bird, dispels the mists by the aid of the godly diversion, gets something else to think of besides his own concern, and by forgetting his concern in the diversion he is led to consider: HOW GLORIOUS IT IS TO BE HUMAN "// then God so clothed the grass of the field...should he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith!" Con- sequently God clothes the grass, or the grass is clothed; the beautifully formed sheathes of the stalks, the fine veining of the blades, the lovely shades of blended colors, the whole wealth, if we may speak in this way, of ribbons and bows and pageantry— all this is part of the clothing of the lily, and it is God who clothes it in this way. "Should He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?" "Ye of little faith!" This is the mild approach of the admoni- 236 236 tion; thus it is said to the one who was in the wrong, when love does not have the heart to speak severely: with up- lifted finger it reproachfully says to him, "You of little faith," but it says it so gently that the reproach does not wound, does not grieve, does not dishearten, but rather uplifts and gives confidence. If a child aggrieved came to its parents and begged for something which the child had already and had had for a long time, but had not been aware of having, and therefore believed that it must beg in order to get it, instead of being thankful for having it: I wonder if the mother, mildly reproachful, would not say, "O my dear child, you will get enough tomorrow, you of little faith! That is, if you once come to under- stand better, then you will appreciate that you have it, that you have always had it, and that therefore it was a kind of ingratitude, although forgivable, moreover, suitable for a child, that you asked for what you had."
But if this is the meaning of the words, then the Gospel says not only that man is clothed like the grass of the field, but that he is clothed far more gloriously. By the aid of the added reproof (ye of little faith) it is really said: Should not God much more have clothed you? So the discourse is not about the new coat one wishes to have for Sunday, or about the new coat one so greatly needs, but about the ingratitude of being willing to forget how glori- ously man is clothed from the hand of God. Would there not be an incongruity in the discourse if the first state- ment was that the lily was more gloriously clad than Solo- mon, and the last, "Should not God much more clothe you?" Would it not be incongruous if the latter was to be understood as referring to some articles of clothing a man may need?
THE GLORY OF OUR COMMON HUMANITY 237 Let us, however, rightly consider this question. It is said that the lily is arrayed, but this is not to be under- stood in such a way that the lily's existence is one thing and the fact of having raiment something different; no its raiment is the fact of being lily. Understood in this sense, should not the human be far more gloriously clad? Or should he be permitted, out of concern for articles of clothing, absolutely to forget the first clothing. O ye of little faith! O ye ungrateful, with your imagined need! O ye concerned, even if your need is great, that you are ab- solutely willing to forget how God has clothed you. Learn from the ant how to be wise, but learn from the lily how glorious it is to be human, how gloriously you are clad, ye of little faith!
In the petty disquiet of the comparisons, the worldly concern always seeks to lead a man away from the el- evated calm of simple thoughts. Being clothed means then being human—and so to be well clothed. Worldly concern occupies itself with clothes and with the distinc- tions of dress: is it not then like the child who aggrieved comes and begs for what it has, and to whom the mother, mildly reproachful, says: "You will get enough in the morning, you of little faith!" The Gospel wishes first to remind even an indigent one that he must not complete- ly forget how gloriously he is clothed by God. And next, we are indeed very far from needy, not all in the more earnest and stricter sense, but, on the other hand, we are all perhaps only too inclined to be concerned about clothes, and ungratefully forget those first thoughts— and the first clothing. But by considering the lily, the con- cerned individual is reminded to compare his clothing with that of the lily— even if poverty has dressed him in rags.
238 238 Ought not then the invitation to learn from the lilies to be as acceptable to everyone, as the admonition is profitable to him! Ah, in the busy worldly life of the comparisons, those great elevating, simple first thoughts are perhaps forgotten more and more. One man com- pares himself with another; one generation compares it- self with another; and thus the accumulated multitude of comparisons really grows above a man's head. As everywhere ingenuity and busyness increase, there come to be in every generation more and more men who toil- somely labor throughout their whole life far down in the deep subterranean regions; aye, like miners, who never see the light of day, so these unfortunates never come to see the light: those elevating, simple, primary thoughts about how glorious it is to be human. And up above, in the high places of the comparison, there smiling vanity plays its false game, deceives the fortunate, so they get no impression of those elevated, simple first principles.
To be a ruler— aye, what a strife is not carried on about this in the world, whether it be to rule over kingdoms and countries, over thousands, or to rule over a single man— besides oneself, whom no one is greatly concerned in ruling over. But out in the field with the lilies, where every man who quietly and in solitude sucks the milk of those first principles is what he is according to the divine plan, he is ruler: moreover, there no one will be ruler! To be a prodigy! Ah, what strenuous efforts are not made in the world to attain this envied place, and how does not envy itself strive to frustrate them! But out in the field with the lilies, where every man is what God has made him, the wonder of creation: aye, there no one will be a prodigy! The better individual would certainly smile, the shrill laughter of the crowd would mock the THE GLORY OF OUR COMMON HUMANITY 2^Q fool who in such a sense could speak about being a ruler, and about being a prodigy.
And yet, what can the preacher really mean by those words: "that God separated the human in order to see whether he would regard himself as an animal." For the one who is not separated is willing to be soothed, con- soled, edified and uplifted by the absoluteness of those first principles; the one who is willing to reconcile him- self to disappearing and perishing in the insignificant ser- vice of the comparisons: he regards himself as an animal, whether in the comparative sense he was distinguished or humble. Therefore God singled out the human, made every man into this separate entity which is implied in the absoluteness of those first principles. The individual ani- mal is not singled out, is not unconditionally a separate entity, the individual animal is a number, and belongs under what the most celebrated pagan thinker has called the animal classification: the herd. And the human being who turns away in despair from those first principles to plunge into the herd of the comparisons makes himself into a number, he regards himself as an animal, whether in a comparative sense he becomes the distinguished or the humble However, with the lilies the concerned one is set apart, far away from all human or perhaps better inhuman com- parisons between man and man: moreover, the one who turned his back on the greatest city in the world, has not left such a varied herd, such a tremendously confused manifold behind him as the one who turned his back on the inhuman comparisons— in order humanly to compare his raiment with that of the lily.
By clothing then must certainly be understood the fact of being human. A pagan has earlier been aware of this.
240 He did not know how to refer everything to God, but he believed it was the soul which, as he ingeniously says, like a weaver itself wove the body, the apparel of the man. And now in beautiful wonder he praised the ingenious creation of the human body, its glory, with which no plant and no animal can endure any comparison. In his thought he let it belong, as it were, to what is man's distinction: the erect walk, and when in thinking he im- itated it, then was his mind uplifted. He wondered over the ingeniousness of the human eye, and even more at its glance; for an animal has an eye, but only the human has a glance, the human who therefore, also, in the beauti- ful mother-tongue of wonder, is called the erect, yet so that there is indicated the two-fold meaning, first the fact that the human form is erect like the straight trunks of the trees, and next, that in this way the erect one directs his glance upward; even if the straight trunks of the trees rise higher, the erect one by means of his glance proudly lifts his head higher than the mountains. Thus the man stands erect— commanding, and therefore the fact of that wonder was deemed so glorious that the human was the only created thing which had hands, for the ruler indeed stretches forth his hand when he commands.
And so too that wondering pagan knew many ways in which to speak gloriously about the human's glorious rai- ment. Many have perhaps spoken more learnedly, more skilfully, perhaps more scientifically about it, but, strangely enough, no one has spoken more wonder ingly than that noble wise man, who did not begin by doubting everything, but, on the contrary, when he became older, when he had seen and heard and experienced much, real- ly began to wonder, to wonder about that simple first thought, which usually no one troubles himself over, THE GLORY OF OUR COMMON HUMANITY 241 not even the scholar and the scientist, for it still fails to interest those— as an object of wonder. But this discourse of wonder is still imperfect in so far as it refers the cloth- ing to the soul. Most imperfect, aye, the discourse is fool- ish, which absolutely forgets that solemn first injunction, so it takes as a matter of course and thoughtlessly the fact of being human for granted, as if it were nothing, takes it in vain, and immediately begins the foolishness about articles of clothing, about trousers and jackets, about pur- ple and ermine. But the discourse is also imperfect which does take notice of the first, but is not really aware of God. No, if the human is to compare himself with the lily, then he must say: "All that I am is due to my being human, that is my raiment; nothing is due to myself, but it is glorious."
How are we now to speak about this glory? We could speak a long time without finishing, but this is not the place for that. Let us therefore rather speak briefly and concentrate everything in one single word, the word which the Scripture itself uses with authority: God created man in His own image, and yet again, for the sake of brevity, merely understand that word about one thing.
God created man in His own image; ought it not to be glorious to be thus clad! The Gospel says, in order to praise the lily, that it surpasses Solomon in glory— ought it not to be infinitely more glorious to resemble God! The lily does not resemble God, no, it does not do that; it has a little sign upon it whereby it reminds of God; it has a testimony, as God has indeed left nothing created without a testimony to Himself, but the lily does not re- semble Him.
If a man sees his image in the mirror of the sea, then he himself sees his image, but the sea is not the man's image, 242 and when he goes away, the image is gone. The sea is not the image, and it cannot even retain the image. How does this happen except because the visible form, precisely through its visibility is powerless (precisely in the same way that the physical presence makes it impossible to be omnipresent), so it cannot reflect itself in another in such a way that this other retains the image when the form removes itself. But God is spirit, is invisible, and the image of the invisible is in turn invisible: thus the invisi- ble Creator reflects Himself in the invisibility, which is a spiritual determination, and God's image is precisely the invisible glory. If God were visible, aye, then there would be no one who could resemble Him or be His image; for no image of the visible exists, and among all visible things there is nothing, not even a blade of grass, which resembles another, or is its image; if such were the case, then the object itself would be the image. But since God is invisible, no one can visibly resemble Him. That is exactly why the lily does not resemble God, because the glory of the lily is the visible; and that is why the pagan still spoke imperfectly about the human, even when he spoke most perfectly about the glory of the human body,