The older man also thus easily imagines that what he has to do with the world is actuality; but God teaches him to understand that all this is used only for his education. So God is the Teacher; His love combines the greatest mildness with the greatest strictness. It is as it is in nature where heaviness is also lightness. The celestial body floats easily in the infinite—sustained by the force of gravity; but if it leaves its orbit, if it becomes too light, then the lightness becomes heaviness, and it falls heavily—because of its lightness. So is God’s strictness mildness in the lover and the humble, but to the hard of heart his mildness is severity. The fact that God has wished to save the world, this mildness is to the one who will not accept salvation the greatest severity, an even greater severity than if God had never wished it, but wished only to judge the world. Lo, this is the synthesis of the severity and the mildness; the fact that in everything you lay hold on God, the greatest mildness and the greatest severity.

If you will therefore listen carefully, you will yourself hear the severity in what must very definitely be called the Gospel. Thus when it was said to the centurion from Capernaum, “Be it unto you according to your faith,” no more joyful tidings can be imagined, no gentler, more merciful word! And yet what was it that was said? It was said, “Be it unto you as you have believed.” If we wish to apply these words to ourselves, we must say, “It will be to you as you believe; if you have the faith for salvation, then are you saved.” How mild, how merciful! But is it now also certain that I have faith?—for the fact that the centurion believed, I still cannot offhand transfer to myself, as if I had faith because the centurion had it. Let us imagine that someone asked Christianity, “Is it now absolutely certain that I have faith?” Then would Christianity answer, “Be it unto you according to your faith” —or I wonder what Christ would have thought of the centurion, if instead of coming to Him in faith, he had come to Him in order thus privately to find out whether he had faith! “Be it unto you according to your faith,” that is to say, it is everlastingly certain that it will be to you as you believe, that Christianity vouches for. But the fact as to whether you, just “you,” have faith, is certainly not a part of the Christian doctrine and preaching, so it should tell you that you have faith. When the timid, anxious doubts arise, lest you perhaps do not have faith, then Christianity repeats the words unchanged, “Be it unto you according to your faith.” How severe! You learn to know from the story about the centurion that he had faith. That has really nothing to do with you. And then you get to know the Christian fact, that it happened to him according to his faith—but you are not the centurion. Let us imagine that someone should say to Christianity, “It is quite certain that I have been baptized, but is it also absolutely certain that I have faith?” Then would Christianity reply, “It is to you according to your faith.” The centurion, although not baptized, believed; therefore it happened to him according to his faith; only through his faith does the Gospel become a Gospel. Had the centurion, although he did come and ask Christ for help, still been somewhat irresolute in his soul as to how far Christ would be able to help him, and Christ had still said the same words to him, “Be it unto you according to your faith,” then what? Would it then be a Gospel? No, not for the centurion, for it would be a judgment upon him. This “be it unto you” comes so swiftly, but it holds so powerfully this next phrase, “as you believe.” Using these words as a text, one can equally well preach severity or mildness; for there is also severity in these words, the Christian severity which has not hesitated to exclude the timorous from the kingdom of God, or perhaps better, has not hesitated to teach that the timorous exclude themselves, so that, consequently, just as little as one enters into the kingdom of God through defiance, just as little does he cowardly and effeminately whine his way in.

But in these times where concerning political and economic relations, so much is said about security and safety, this is finally carried over into Christianity, and baptism is allowed to be the assurancewhich is no doubt right enough, if you really believe the assurance that “it is to you as you believe.” If one had the right to make baptism the assurance as a matter of course, then it would certainly be all over with severity. But God is not mocked, nor can He be cheated. He is too highly exalted in heaven for it to occur to Him that a man’s exertion should in any way render him deserving. Yet He requires it; and then one thing more, that the man himself shall not presume to believe that it is something meritorious. But God is also too highly exalted in heaven childishly to play the good God with a cowardly and abandoned man. It is everlastingly certain that it will be to you as you believe; but the assurance of faith, or the assurance that you, just you, believe, you must acquire in every moment by the help of God, hence not in any external manner. You must have God’s help in order to believe that you are saved through baptism. You must have God’s help in order to believe that in the communion your sins are graciously forgiven. For certainly the forgiveness of sins which is promised, is also promised to you, but the preacher has no right to say to you that you have faith, and yet it is promised to you only if you have faith. It is to you according to your faith. But everything in you which is of flesh and blood and connected with the earthly and the fearful, must despair, so that it is not possible for you to get an external certainty, a certainty once for all, and in the easier way. Lo, this is the conflict of faith in which every day may give you the opportunity to be tested. The Gospel is not the law; the Gospel will not save you through severity but through mildness; but this mildness will save you, it will not deceive you, therefore there is severity in it.

And if this like for like holds good even in relation to what most definitely may be called the Gospel, how much more then when Chyris-tianity itself proclaims the law. It is said, “Forgive and you will also be forgiven.” However, one might succeed in misunderstanding these words so that he imagined that it might be possible even for him to get forgiveness although he did not forgive. Truly that is a misunderstanding. The Christian meaning is: forgiveness is forgivingness; your forgiveness is your forgivingness; your forgivingness to another is your own forgiveness; the forgiveness you grant, that you get, not conversely, the forgiveness that you get, that you give. It is as if Christianity would say: “Pray to God humbly and believingly for your own forgiveness, for He is merciful as no man is. But if you wish to make a test of how you forgive, then observe yourself. If you sincerely and with all your heart forgive your enemy (but if you do this, remember that God can see it), then you also dare hope for forgiveness, for it is one and the same thing; God forgives you neither more nor less nor otherwise than as you forgive your debtors. It is only an illusion to imagine that one has forgiveness while one is slow to forgive others. No, there is not a more exact agreement between heaven above and its image in the sea, which is exactly as deep as it is high, than there is between forgiveness and forgivingness. It is also an illusion for a man to believe in his own forgiveness, if he will not forgive; for how could a man in truth believe in forgiveness whose own life is an argument against there being forgiveness! But one imagines that one personally has a God-relationship, and, on the other hand, with reference to another man, that he has a relationship to that other man, instead of see-1 ing a God-relationship in everything. Therefore the fact of accusing another man before God is to accuse himself, like for like. If, humanly speaking, a man actually suffers wrong, then let him notice that he goes too far in accusing the guilty before God. Oh, that a man is so ready to deceive himself, is so ready to delude himself with the idea that a man might personally have, as it were, a private relationship to God. But the relationship with God is like a relationship with a public official. You cannot talk confidentially with a magistrate about that which is his business—but God’s business is to be God. If a servant, whom you perhaps feel a regard for, has committed a crime, a theft, for example, and you do not know what you ought to do about it, then you do not refer the matter privately to the superior sitting magistrate; for in his private capacity he does not understand anything about a theft; he immediately has the guilty apprehended and the case begins. And thus also, if you wish to pretend that you were quite outside the matter in question, and now privately wish to complain to God about your enemies: then God makes short work of it, and lays a charge against you; for before God you are yourself an offender—the fact of accusing another is an accusation against yourself. You think that God might, as it were, take your part; that God and you together might turn against your enemy, against the one who wronged you. But this is a misunderstanding. God looks impartially upon all and is the whole, while you only wish to make Him a part. If you apply to Him in His capacity as judge—moreover as a favor on His part, He warns you against doing this, for He knows what will follow as a matter of course, how severe it will be for you. But if you do not wish to have this said to you, if you refer to Him in His capacity as judge: then it does not help you because you think it is another He will judge; for you yourself made Him into your judge, and He is, like for like, at the same moment your judge, that is, He judges you also. On the other hand, if you do not undertake to accuse anyone before God, or to make God a judge, then is God the gracious God.

Let me illustrate the above by an incident. There was once a criminal who had stolen some money, among the rest a hundred dollar note. He wished to change this, and therefore he offered it to another criminal who lived in the same house. He accepted the note, went into the next room as if to get change, came out again, innocently greeted the waiting visitor as if he now saw him for the first time: in short, he defrauded him out of the hundred dollar note. The first man became so enraged at this, that in his indignation he reported the matter to the legal authorities, telling how shamefully he had been swindled. The other was naturally arrested, and arraigned as an impostor. Alas, in the trial, the first question the magistrate asked was how the accuser had obtained the money. So there were two cases. Of course the first man was wholly right in thinking that he had been swindled; he would now be the honest man, the good citizen, who reported the matter to the authorities in order to secure his rights. Oh, but the judge does not deal with matters in his private capacity, or with an isolated case one chooses to bring before him; nor does he always give the case the turn which the accuser and informer gives: the magistrate looks deeper into the matter. And so with the God-relationship. As soon as you accuse another man before God, then there are immediately found to be two cases; just when you come to lay information about the other man, God begins to consider how you are connected with the case.

Like for like; in fact Christianity is so strict that it even maintains a rigorous inequality. It is written, “Why do you see the mote in your brother’s eye but do not know of the beam in your own eye?” A devout man has piously interpreted these words in this way: The beam in your own eye is neither more nor less than the seeing, the judging the mote in your brother’s eye. But the most severe like for like would certainly consist in being able to see the mote in your brother’s eye become the beam in your own eye. Still Christianity is even more severe: this mote,, or the looking at it judgingly, is a beam. And even if you do not see the beam, and even if no man sees it, nevertheless God sees it. Consequently a mote is a beam! Is not this a severity that transforms a mite into an elephant? Oh, if you consider that from the true Christian standpoint God is always present in everything, that everything revolves solely about Him, then you will no doubt be able to understand this severity; you will understand that seeing the mote in your brother’s eye—in God’s presence (and God is always present) is lese majesty. No doubt if you could choose a time and place for seeing the mote where God was not present! But in the Christian understanding this is what you must learn to realize, that God is always present; and if He is present He is also looking at you. In the moment that you are truly aware of God’s presence you certainly would not think of looking at a mote in your brother’s eye, nor would you think of applying this terribly strict standard—you who are yourself guilty. The fact is, that even if every better man for his own sake applies himself to thinking about God’s omnipresence as present (and nothing more preposterous could be imagined than to think of God’s omnipresence at a distance), then he frequently forgets God’s omnipresence in his relationship to other men, forgets that God is present in the relationship, is satisfied with a merely human comparison. So one needs confidence and quiet to discover the mote. What is now the fault? The fact that you yourself forget that God is present (and He is certainly always present) or that you forget yourself in His presence. How imprudent in God’s presence to judge as strictly as a mote is judged—Ilike for like; if you will be so severe, then can God overbid you—there is a beam in your own eye! The magistrate may well have regarded it as an impudence on the part of that criminal of whom we have spoken, that he should wish to play the part of an honest man who, pursuant to law and justice, prosecutes a criminal, alas, a criminal who will himself be prosecuted pursuant to law and justice: but God regards it as presumption that a man should wish to play the pure and judge the mote in his brother’s eye. How strict is not this Christian like for like! The Jewish, the worldly, the busy like for like is: as others do to you, see that you finally do the same to them. But the Christian like for like is: as you do to others, so God will do to you. From the Christian standpoint it does not concern you what the others do to you, it does not concern you personally; it is curiosity, an impertinence, a lack of sense to meddle in things which are as entirely irrelevant to you as if you were absent. You need only concern yourself with what you do to others, or with how you discover what others do to you; the direction is inward, essentially you have only to do with yourself before God. “This world of inwardness, this version of what other men call actuality, it is actuality. In this inward world the Christian like for like is native; it turns itself and wishes to turn you away from the external (yet without taking you out of the world), upward or inward. For from the Christian standpoint to love men is to love God, and to love God is to love men: what you do to men you do to God, and therefore what you do to men, that God does to you. If you are indignant at the men who wrong you, you are really indignant at God; for in the last analysis it is God who permits you to be wronged. On the contrary, if you accept with gratitude the injury from God’s hand “as a good and perfect gift,” then you will not be indignant at men. If you are not willing to forgive, then you really wish to do something else, you wish to make God hardhearted so that He should not forgive: how could this hard-hearted God then forgive you? If you cannot bear men’s offenses against you, how should God bear your sins against Him? No, like for like. For God Himself is really this pure like for like, the pure reproduction of what you yourself are. If you are angry, then is God angry at you; if mildness and mercy rule in your heart, then is God merciful to you. The infinite lover shows in that He will on the whole concern Himself with you, and that no one, no one so affectionately discovers even the least love in you as God does. God’s relationship to man is at every moment to make more infinite that which at any moment is in man. Echo, as you know, dwells in solitude. It attends exactly, oh, so exactly, to every sound, even the least, and reproduces it exactly, oh, so exactly. If there is a word which you would not like to hear said to you, then guard yourself in saying it, watch that it does not escape you in solitude, for Echo repeats it immediately and says it to “you.” If you have never been solitary, then you have never discovered that God exists; but if you truly were solitary, then you also learned that everything you say or do to another man, that God merely repeats, He repeats it with the intensification of infinity: the word of grace or of judgment which you express about another, that God repeats; He says the same word for word, about you: and this same word is for you grace or judgment. But who believes in Echo, when day and night he lives in the tumult of the city? And who believes that such an observer exists, who corresponds so exactly to the like for like? Who believes in it, if from earliest childhood he has been accustomed to live in tumult? If in the confusion he hears something about the Christian way, he is still unable to hear rightly; as the Christianly does not echo in his inner man, he does not discover the echo which is the Christian like for like. Here in the midst of life’s alarms he perhaps does not notice eternity’s or God’s repetition of the spoken word; he imagines that its reproduction would perhaps be in the external and in an outward manner. But the external is too dense a body to be the echo, and the sensual ear is too dull to catch el repetition of eternity. But whether a man discovers it or not, that same word is still said about him that he himself uttered. Such a man lives on then as one who does not know what is said about him. Now sedate it is just as well if a man is unconscious of what the town says about him; besides it might be untrue. Oh, but how does it help either for the moment or through the years, to be unconscious of what eternity says about him—if it is nevertheless the truth! No, like for like! We truly do not say that as if we meant that a man ultimately deserved grace. Oh, the fact that you learn from the first to lay hold on God is everything, is just that you simply have no merit. Test this merely by saying to eternity, “I have deserved,” then eternity answers, “You have deserved.,..” If you will have merit and have deserved something, then is it only punishment. If not believing you will appropriate to yourself another’s merit, then you get according to your merit. We do not say this as if we meant that it would be better if anyone day in and day out were to sit in the fear of death in order to listen to the repetition of eternity; we do not even say that it would be better than the pettiness which in these times makes use of the love of God to sell indulgences from every more dangerous and more strenuous conflict. No, but as the well-disciplined child has an unforgettable impression of the strictness, so must also the man who lays hold upon the love of God, if he does not wish “effeminately” or thoughtlessly to take it in vain, have an unforgettable fear and trembling, although he rests in the love of God. Such a one will certainly avoid speaking to God about another’s wrong to him, about the mote in his brother’s eye. For such a one will prefer to speak to God only about grace, in order that this fateful word “justice” shall not cause him to forfeit everything through what he has himself evoked, the strict like for like.

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