Letter to Valerian on Contempt of the World 19–27

And to come down to these matters: do you think that all those once foreign peoples, that is, nations and kingdoms, passed under Roman dominion and law, and that a great part of the human race passed into one people, for any other reason than that faith, poured through one nation as medicine through one body, might penetrate more easily, and, taken in at the head, might spread swiftly through the members? Otherwise it would not have run so through peoples crowded together and differing in rites and languages, nor have passed so far through the obstacles of ever new stages. Indeed blessed Paul, spreading the faith through this same people, writes that from Jerusalem as far as Illyricum he has filled all things with the gospel of Christ. But when could that have happened among nations either countless in number or barbarous in savagery? Hence it is that now the earth, from the rising and the setting of the sun, from the north and from the sea, resounds with Christ; that all the sides of the world run together to life, while the Thracian receives the faith, the Libyan the faith, the Syrian the faith, the Spaniard the faith. It is therefore a great proof of divine kindness that under Caesar Octavian, when Roman possession reached its summit, then God gave himself to the earth. And so, to bring forward your own learning to you: since it is now about the one thousand one hundred and eighty-fifth year from the founding of this kingdom, anyone who is a capable champion can show that whatever was added to the Roman empire, either under that ancient rule of the kings or under the twin administration of the consuls that followed, was all prepared for the coming of Christ and provided for the spreading of the faith.

We will return to our purpose. “Do not love the world,” it says, “nor the things that are in the world,” because all these things allure our sight with treacherous colours. Let that power of the eyes, given for light, not be applied to error; and while it lies open to the uses of life, let it not admit the causes of death. The desires of the flesh, as the apostle excellently says, war against the soul; all their array is drawn up for our ruin and destruction; when they rise against us they keep unsleeping watch, just like foreign enemies, while they acquire for themselves as much strength as they take from us. Thus far I have discoursed of the inextricable allurements of the treacherous world, of honours and wealth, as though the world were still flourishing, pleasant with its flatteries. But whatever the face of those things, once polished with shadowy splendours, it has now grown old, and all its painted brilliance has perished. The world now hardly has even the power to deceive. That image of things, comely enough to deceive, has perished. Formerly it sought to seduce us with true brightness, and could not; now it is almost unable to corrupt us even with false display. It lacked solid goods; see, it now lacks even perishable ones. It is no longer adorned by things beautiful for a time nor strengthened by things that will last hereafter; unless we deceive ourselves, the world can hardly deceive us.

But why do we hesitate to bring out the stronger points? We speak of the world's wealth as scattered, when the world itself, sinking toward its end, is being driven through its last stretches. How much greater and graver is this, that the world itself will not last long? Why do we recall its worn-out property and furniture? Not undeservedly is it pressed toward failure, its strength consumed by age, and deprived of its supports, since it now sinks, tottering under its burden, into old age. The last age of the world is full of evils, as old age is of diseases. These things have been seen, and are seen now for a long time, in this white-haired age: famine, pestilence, devastation, wars, terrors. These are its sicknesses in its last years. Hence are often seen those signs in the sky, and earthquakes, the changed order of the seasons, monstrous births among living creatures: all these are portents of a time still going on, but now failing. And this is confirmed not by the words of our weakness only, but also by the utterances of apostolic authority. For there one reads: “Upon us the ends of the ages have come.” Since this was said long ago, why do we delay, what are we waiting for? That day presses upon us, now not ours only but the world's. Every hour warns that the time of the due dissolution is at hand, when, with a double danger, a twofold end and a twin peril threaten one death for all. The mortality of the world now lies upon me, wretch that I am, as though my own were not enough to terrify me. Why do we soothe our fears? There is no room for security when the end hangs over us without distinction, the end of each one and then of all. All the more pitiable, then, is the condition of men in this, I will not yet say the end of the world, but even in this failing of its affairs: men who store up for themselves no hope of future joys, since they do not enjoy the pleasantness of present ones. They do not take the pleasure of the briefer life, and they cannot hope for that of the everlasting. They do not use temporal goods; they will not, they will not, use eternal ones. Here there is little of possession, there nothing of hope. This state of man is altogether to be grieved over and pitied, unless perhaps he makes of this bitterest condition a fitting necessity; unless for this very reason he corrects himself toward the better remedies for his own good and strives for the prayers of a sounder counsel; especially since the affairs of the present time are so torn apart that whoever loses the advantage of the one future age has lost that of both.

Every effort of the mind must be directed to the hope of the future; and so that you may grasp it more fully and plainly, I will not refuse to open it up by way of an example. If someone offered a man five copper denarii today, but promised five hundred gold pieces tomorrow, and gave him the choice whether he would rather take the copper now or the gold later, is there any doubt that he would choose those great gifts, with a little delay? You too, having examined the terms of this brief life and of the eternal one, should not choose to take cheap things when you can hope for precious ones. It is not worth as much to have taken small things as to wait for great ones. But if we both see and take everything fragile that is in the world (and hope takes its name from hoping), it is plain that hope is by no means possessed in this age, in which we enjoy the things we look upon. “For hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he sees?” Therefore whatever hope is mixed with human affairs must be sought in the future; otherwise it cannot even be called hope, if it is not hoped for.

So we follow a reality of hope that is plainer in the future, rather than experiencing the hope of reality in present things. See, the things brought right up to the gaze of our eyes we do not see clearly, as if our sight were overpowered; but we look much more surely at things presented at a distance, as with eyes set free. So, beyond doubt, it has turned out almost the same with present and future things. For present things, as if thrust into the eyes, are not seen rightly; future things, as if drawn back from the eyes, are seen most plainly. Nor do we presume this confidence in the future on an uncertain authority, but on our Lord Jesus Christ, the truest guarantor of truth, who promises the righteous an endless kingdom and the ample rewards of a most blessed eternity; who also, by the unspeakable sacrament of the flesh he assumed, being at once man and God, reconciled man to God, and by the great and hidden mystery of his passion absolved the world of its guilt. And so he was manifested in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, appeared to angels, was preached to the nations, believed in the world, taken up in glory; for which reason God exalted him, so that all things now in heaven and on earth, in the sea and in the depths, confess that the Lord Jesus is in glory, King and God before the ages.

Why not reject those precepts of the philosophers to whose reading you apply your effort and talent, and turn your mind to drinking in the studies of Christian teaching? There too you will find matter on which to exercise your eloquence and talent; and it will soon be clear to you how little these precepts of ours, that is, of piety and truth, owe to those precepts of the philosophers. For in those precepts of theirs there is either a shadow of virtue or false wisdom; but in these, perfect righteousness and solid truth are contained. Hence one may say that others have usurped the name of philosophy, but we its life. For what kind of precepts for living can be given by them? They do not know the cause. Not knowing God, and turning away from righteousness at the very beginning, they are carried in consequent error into everything else. So it comes about that the end of such studies is vanity. If any among them define more honourable things, they serve boasting in this, they labour for it: so with them abstinence from vices is not free of vice. These, then, are those, as it is written, who mind earthly things. Hence it is plainly shown that they do not see true righteousness, true wisdom. Will anyone from that school of Aristippus see the truth, who by his own nature differs nothing from swine or cattle, since he places happiness in bodily pleasure, whose god is his belly and whose glory is in his shame? Will he teach what is honourable and just, in whose school the prodigal, the unchaste and the adulterer play the philosopher? But let another occasion be reserved for speaking against the philosophers; I will come to the things for which I am speaking with you.

Leave now those general maxims of theirs in which you take such delight, briefly collected from every kind of discussion, and turn to the studies and writings of our own. There, best of men, you will fill your heart with manifold instruction. There, to impress faith upon you, this will be said to you, if not in these words, at least in this sense: “Whoever does not believe the word of God does not understand it.” There you will be admonished: “Fear the Lord, because you call him Lord; love him, because you call him Father.” There you will learn the true sacrifices, hearing: “The most acceptable sacrifices to God are righteousness and mercy.” There this will be suggested to you: “If you love yourself, love your neighbour; for you will give nothing more to your own advantage than what you bestow on others.” There you will be taught to think no cause so worthy that a man's death becomes just for you. There you will be warned against what is unlawful: “Resist lust as a most bitter enemy, who delights to insult the conquered even with the shame of the body.” There, so that you do not covet, you will be taught this: “It is better not to want what you do not have than to have what you want.” There, so that you are not angry, this will be impressed upon you: “He who is angry when provoked is not angry only when he is not provoked.” There too you will hear of enemies: “Love him who does not love you, for hardly anyone fails to love one who loves him.” There this will often be repeated to you: “He stores up treasure well who divides it among the needy; for he can no longer lose what he has placed by giving.” There you will also be urged to happier things, when it is said: “The fruit of faithful marriages is continence.” There you will learn what must be distinguished, when you hear: “The evils of this world are common to the just and the unjust.” There this will be offered for you to hear: “It is a greater sickness for the soul to languish with vices than for the body with diseases.” There, to commend peace, this will be pronounced to you: “For the impatient, likeness of character is a cause of discord.” There, so that you do not follow the wicked, you will hear this: “Both the wise man and the fool instruct the prudent: the one teaches what is to be imitated, the other what is to be avoided.” There these things too are set forth: “Many things profit those who do not know it; therefore God's kindness is no less in what is hidden than in what is open.” There you will be admonished: “Give thanks to God no more in prosperity than in adversity; and when things go well, confess that you have not deserved it.” There even more remote things will be opened to you, when this is preached: “That there is no fate, let the nations ask their own laws, which surely punish only the will behind the deeds.” There you will hear this also enjoined to guard purity: “If you wish to be truthful, you will not be suspicious; for we suspect only what we do not know.” There you will also hear of higher things: “He whose mind is fixed on God, when he is tickled by passions, rolls down from heaven to earth.” There these too will be recalled to you: “Since here the wicked sometimes receive good things and the good are afflicted with evils, those who do not believe in God's future judgment judge God unjust (God forbid).” There it will be suggested to you: “Even in your secret places, do not do what you would want men not to know, nor think what you would want God not to know.” There it will be said to you against all fraud: “It is more unhappy to deceive than to be deceived.” There these perfecting precepts will be given to you against boasting: “Flee vanity the more, the better you become. For the other vices grow by vices, vanity by virtues.” And these few things from our studies have been sampled here and there, and briefly.

But if you approach the very fountains of sacred eloquence as a searcher, there you will marvel at the inner things no less than the outer. For Scripture, shining from within like every most precious gem, draws the eyes of those who consider it down into its deep brilliance. To this accustom the eye of your mind, dim though it be, by no means shrinking from it; with this inward and healthful food learn to feed the hunger of the soul. We do not doubt that, through the work of the merciful Lord, it will come about that, seeking what is ours and setting aside what is yours, you will disdain empty things and desire solid ones. It is most imprudent, when God has done so many things for us, that we should have done nothing for ourselves; and when he in his works has looked to human advantage, that man should be unwilling to provide for himself. And we do provide for ourselves if we give ourselves back to the worship and love of God. For true blessedness is to spurn the blessedness of the world, and, neglecting earthly things, to burn for divine ones. Therefore from now on direct all your words and deeds to God or for God's sake. See that innocence is always your companion, and it will be your guardian. Innocence is faithful. It is a great thing to follow virtue, and to contribute something to it for our own part. Nor need we fear that the mind cannot free itself, through a better life, from the things that have grown into it by habit. He to whom we offer ourselves to be healed and protected gives strength to our desire. But how could anyone grasp even by estimation the reward of the goods to come? See, divine munificence, as we perceive, has granted to all alike the use of most precious light. It is given to the devout and the impious to look upon the common sun; creation keeps its service to all with kindly offices; the possession of the whole world is shared without distinction by good and bad.

Since, then, God gives such splendid things here to the just and the unjust alike, what must we think are the things he reserves for the just? Let us consider: he who gave so much, how much will he restore? He who is so great in his gifts, how great will he be in his rewards? If the kindness of the giver is so beyond estimation, what will that of the rewarder be? Unspeakable are the things God has prepared for those who love him; rightly and plainly so, for it is truly immeasurable how great the things he will repay to the good, who bestows such great things on the ungrateful. Turn your eyes about, and from the sea of your business look out toward the harbour, as it were, of our profession, and turn your prow. This is the one harbour into which we may be brought back from all the tossing of the restless world, which we may seek, weary, amid the onrushing whirlwinds of the world; here all must flee who are troubled by the storm of the roaring world. Here is the most faithful anchorage and sure rest. Here the wide recess, shut off from the waves, lies silent. Here a gentle calm and a clear sky smile. When you have been carried here, your ship, after its empty labours, will be safely held, fixed on the anchor of the cross. But the page of my writing, now too long, demands a limit. Receive the force of the heavenly precepts, gathered tightly and briefly into a sum, to the honour of God. These are all the commands: pardon me, and recognize me.