Letters 2.124–2.140

[Letter 2.124, continued: …stathius.] [To priests.] Since the divine Paul, the vessel of election, the steward of Christ's thoughts, who set land and sea in order and persuaded barbarians to live wisely, declared that those who neglect their own are worse than unbelievers, saying, "If anyone does not provide for his own, and especially for his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever," for this reason I too have come forward to write to you. What do you think "provide" means here? The supply of food? I think it means the care of the soul. And if you contradict me, what I have said will be confirmed all the more. For if, concerning the body, he said that one who does not hold out necessary food is crueller than the unbelievers, where will the one stand who neglects the greater and more necessary thing, I mean the care of the soul? Be persuaded, then, and recover from your madness. [Letter 2.125] [To those who blame a man for fleeing the priesthood.] The episcopate, both the name and the thing, being divine and higher than every way of life and every rank, befits only a few: those who think it a father's care, not a tyrant's independence. But since some have changed it into an office of rule, or rather, if one must speak frankly, into a tyranny, know that, although this conspicuous and much-contested office now, if ever, casts a violent passion for itself into people and readily gives itself to those who love it, all who think rightly take little account of it. For they consider it to belong to those who are paying a penalty, not receiving an honour. For mostly such men rule some and are slaves to others, command some and serve others, do harm to some and favours to others, press upon some and lie prostrate before others; they are feared by the one group and hated by the other. Do not wonder, then, if Hierax the presbyter, a man of sense, fled the thing like a most grievous disease. [Letter 2.126] [On not causing scandal.] Fear above all, dear friend, to scandalize anyone. For the good is somehow drunk among men: even when no one shakes it, it barely stands.

[Letter 2.127] To Cyril the bishop. [That one must not neglect admonition or despair of anyone; and that if some who are admonished remain uncorrected, the fault is not that of those who admonish but of their own choice, especially when the admonishers leave nothing undone.] It belongs to your understanding and authority, best of all men, to restore by the purity and zeal of your power the Church at Pelusium, worn out by the vices of its rulers. All the injustice and outrage it has suffered, plundered and insulted by wicked and criminal men, to whom one would not entrust even a herd of irrational animals, let alone rational human beings, for whom Christ came here and shed his own precious blood, it is not for the present occasion to tell, or rather for any occasion. For even if the occasion demanded it, what they have contrived surpasses all speech. Yet a few things must be said at present, which it is not safe from punishment to pass over in silence even for those who wish to. But you seem, admirable one, to be demanding the narrative already. So I too will stop my preliminaries and proceed in my account to the drama, having said only this: do not measure what has happened by words (for we would not find words equal to the deeds, since every tongue is defeated by the truth of the facts), but survey what has been staged with the sleepless eyes of the mind. That God has been blasphemed, the city ravaged, the priesthood sold and the Church tyrannized (the earnest being banished, while those who ought not even to set foot on its threshold were admitted and entrusted with its divine and secret mysteries; for they did not think they had been entrusted with souls, but that they had inherited a family tyranny); that they took no account of the poor, plundered the church's money and spent it on their own ambitions; that they took vengeance, even to blood, on those who dared to utter a word for virtue; and all such things, I will pass over, showing that I have been carried into these words against my will. But what has now been contrived, since silence is not without danger even for one who wishes to keep it, I will narrate as best I can, briefly and dimly (I would not say clearly). Martinian, who was ordained presbyter to the ruin of the most divine worship (if one ought to call presbyter a man who used the name of the priesthood to be able to commit the greatest crimes, beyond pardon): I cannot say from whom he was descended or from what city he came (that he was a slave, and ran away after living his early youth impiously, though it is true, I will pass over; for I have not come to speak ill of him, but to show how he wronged the Church). He came, then, to the city of the Pelusiots, living in extreme poverty and helped by many, putting on the habit of a monk and feigning a chaste life, and he hunted for the clerical office, which is a ministry but seems a position of rule. But when the celebrated Ammonius, full of divine wisdom, the bishop of this city, saw through his hypocrisy with the most clear-sighted eyes of his mind and left him not even a hope of the thing, he, realizing that he was spending his time in vain since the one in charge was very wise, decided to weave these nets elsewhere. When he was caught there too and failed in his hope, he at last learned that that all-wise man had fallen asleep and gone into the heavenly places, and that Eusebius had been ordained; and he flew back to the city of the Pelusiots, thinking he could easily manage Eusebius's shrewdness, not to say his folly. And indeed he very quickly reached his goal. One must not be long-winded; and that he who supplied the seed is the cause of the plants, surely no one is unaware. Having obtained ordination, then, and touched the sacred mysteries with defiled hands, he gave birth to the disease he had long been in labour with. Thinking life unlivable for himself unless he could also appropriate the money of the poor, he promised to leave to the Church everything he might acquire, and, baiting the bishop with these hopes, he persuaded him to appoint him steward as well. Having taken over the stewardship of the Church, this accursed man, who had not even been brought up as a free man, so treated it as not even a barbarian war would have done: he ruined it, wiping out every mark of its beauty that looked to virtue. Using tricks and devices, villainies and perjuries in handling its affairs, he did nothing straightforward or just; defining villainy as good sense, he fastened upon those who had chosen to live freely and reverently, calling lovers of truth simpletons and those who handled affairs criminally intelligent, those who lived wisely fools and the hucksters men of action. And he did not say these things without doing them; rather, he hid his words behind his deeds, appropriating the church's money, selling ordinations, driving out the lovers of virtue and gathering together those who did the same as he. For he thought that he would have no other safety here (of judgment he took no account at all) unless he banished every form of virtue. And he did this having made the bishop, I know not how, subject to him. For the bishop had been so enslaved to him (let the truth be told frankly, for I could not do otherwise), as if he had been ordained a cheap slave bought with money, to do whatever Martinian ordered. Martinian drove him to such madness (the crowning evil and the chief point of the tragedy will now be told), baiting him with those promises which the bishop now loudly proclaims, parading his own folly, and either forcing or persuading him (I do not know what to say, so extreme is the absurdity), that he even signed in the church's accounts that the wronged Church was in Martinian's debt. For he thought he would not otherwise securely hold what he had improperly acquired unless he showed the Church to be indebted to him: not expecting to claim back what he had stolen, but seeking not to have it claimed from him by the Church. When the wretched city perceived that he was contriving this (for it was not hidden; I will not tell how, because of the enormity of what was done, he was even accused of sorcery, and caught in shameful and outrageous offences), it often rushed to kill him, yet it restrained its impulse. Accused and charged by everyone, he slandered the bishop to all and all to the bishop: arming the bishop against the lovers of virtue, so as to quench everyone's frankness, and telling the people that it was the bishop himself who sold ordinations, plotted against the chaste and appropriated the Church's goods: "For he takes gold and signs the church accounts." He said this thinking by these devices to quench people's anger at what he was doing. When some reported this to the bishop himself, they achieved nothing more, since he said, plausibly enough, that he could do nothing without accusers. But when accusers appeared, believing that he meant it, many of them, trustworthy and able to prove their case, not even then did he proceed against him; so that, every pretext now refuted, he was reasonably suspected by all of being a partner in what was done. For above all, even if that man had promised ten thousand times to bring to the Church everything he acquired from his shameful gains, the bishop ought not to have handed over to him all the church's resources and scandalized countless souls by what was done. And if he was baited by the promises, he ought not to have left him unaudited. And if he had to audit him, he ought to have done so precisely, examining the accounts with some wise and experienced men; for he says that he himself is inexperienced in these things, as in other good things. But if he signed the accounts in a corner, sharing them with no one, he was clearly not deceived (as he loudly cries, thinking in this way to wipe off the condemnation), but has criminally mishandled the church's affairs and sold off the whole Church with them. Martinian, like a man who had bought, and bought unlawfully, decided to use what he had acquired still more unlawfully, hastening to cure evil with evil. Having pocketed all the church's money, or, as he himself said, having shared it with the one who entrusted him with the stewardship and gave occasion for such a tragedy, he recently sent gold ahead to Alexandria, hunting for a bishopric, he who could not even manage himself. Your Holiness, learning this, though you ought to have deposed him, threatened him by letter and affirmed that if he attempted the same things again, the man who brought such disgrace on the most divine religion would be deposed throughout the whole Egyptian diocese. But now, despising both the letters and the threats, he has set out for Alexandria, as I learn, wooing a bishopric for himself and ruining your reputation, as though you ordained for money. It belongs, then, to your magnanimity (by what name could I worthily address you?) to reserve the exact penalty for his offences for the impartial court (for he cannot pay the punishment he deserves here), but to be moved, first, to defend the Church that has been lawlessly treated, and second, to help your own reputation, by putting your threats into effect and deposing him. For if, which I do not believe, besides suffering nothing of the kind, he were even ordained, the secret that is whispered about will be found to be true. Then it belongs to you to send him here with some reverent bishops to whom gain is hateful, to give account of the church's revenues and pay back what he owes; and, if he has given anything to the bishop (for the bishop says that he has not received anything but was deceived), to prove it. For it is not in doubt that you will make the episcopate inaccessible to the protagonist of the drama, who either stole together with him or signed without consideration, or else, pardoning him, will ordain a steward who will not allow him to sin beyond pardon; and that, showing the clever villainy of the third actor to be foolish, you will annul what he says is owed to him (for where would such wealth come from to a man who suffered extreme poverty and made his money from the Church's revenues?). [Letter 2.128] [On flattery.] I learn that flatterers hang on your tongue, swearing that a thing is best of all even if you choose to admire one of the most outrageous evils, and quickly reviling even virtue itself if you malign it. If, then, you will not obey us, at least obey Isocrates, who advised hating flatterers as one hates deceivers; for both, when they are trusted, wrong those who trust them.

To Paul. [On Judas the traitor.] You seem to wonder how Christ did not persuade the traitor to regard virtue as good, though Judas often heard about virtue in their gatherings, or rather there was never a time when he did not hear on its behalf. But I wonder how, knowing the definition of free will, you could wonder at this. For human salvation is brought about not by force and tyranny but by persuasion and gentleness. That is why each person has authority over his own salvation, so that both those who are crowned and those who are punished may justly undergo what they have chosen. [Letter 2.130] [On almsgiving.] One must have a merciful soul, my friend. For whoever has such a spring will gush out all good things. If he has money, he will give it away; if he sees anyone in misfortune, he will weep; if he meets someone who is mistreated, he will hold out a hand; and he will leave out nothing that lies in his power.

To Antiochus. [A comparison of virtue and vice.] Vice has both separated human beings from God and divided them from one another. One must therefore flee it headlong and pursue virtue, which both brings us to God and joins us to one another. The definition of virtue and of philosophy is to be without pretence, together with understanding.

To Eutonius the deacon. Even if Zosimus, who seems to be a presbyter, is drunk with his tyranny against you and behaves outrageously, consider what was staged by the Jews against the Master, when even the earth itself shook and trembled, seeking a place to flee so as not to see the drama dared against God, though it touched only his flesh; and bear it nobly.

To Timothy the reader. "Eye for eye and tooth for tooth" was, I think, legislated for the Jews by the most gentle Nature, not so that they should be unforgiving and bitter toward those who wrong them, as the Manichaeans think, who disparage the Old Testament, but so that, through fear of suffering what they do, they would refrain from daring it. And this is just, reasonable and consistent. The divine calm, looking to gentleness and goodness and training people for it, checked offences in advance by fear of punishment, through having ordained that the doer be requited. For if there is no doer, there will be no one requiting either. Let them see, then, the depth of the lawgiver's wisdom, and not hastily accuse it of cruelty and inhumanity. For what is said in the Gospels, "If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also," is not contrary to it, but greater and better, and the definition of the highest philosophy. The former was legislated so that people should not do harm at all (for men thirsting for blood would not have listened to a command to suffer gladly); the latter has been taught so that they might suffer willingly. The comparative mode does not push the things compared into opposite ranks, but shows superiority and inferiority within the same rank. It is good not to do any evil, but better also to suffer willingly. Marriage is good, but virginity is better. The moon is beautiful, but the sun is better. As, then, with the moon beautiful and the sun better, the Creator is one, so of the Old and the New Testament there is one lawgiver, who legislated wisely, suitably and fittingly for the times.

To the same. Virtue, and good character too, bring no shame on equal rank; but you must not long for what is impossible, but, letting it go, pray for what is reasonable. For even Moses the revealer of sacred things and the divine Paul in some matters did not obtain what they asked; rather they were taught that they had not asked well.

To Nemesius. [On "Man, being in honour, did not understand."] "Man, being in honour, did not understand; he was compared to the senseless cattle and became like them": holy Scripture said this not as a tirade against human beings or to disparage the rational race, but even very sparingly. For if we examine it precisely, he is in danger of resembling not only cattle but also untamed beasts; or rather, the lover of shameful passions even surpasses them. And what is wonderful and paradoxical is this: each beast is a slave to one defect, but he who seems to be a man gathers all of them together and travels farther than their irrationality. And so that you may not think my words exaggerated, let us test the facts themselves impartially. When someone leaps like a bull, kicks like an ass, neighs after women like a stallion mad for mares, is gluttonous like a bear, fattens his body like a mule, bears grudges like a camel, rages like a lion, snatches like a wolf, strikes like a scorpion, is treacherous like a snake, keeps the venom of wickedness like a viper, and gathers money, or rather sins, as the beetle gathers its dung, how can anyone count this beast-minded creature among human beings, when he sees in him not the marks of the gentle nature but the stench of some Scylla, Chimaera or Hydra, as the outsiders' myths have it? If you say, "What, then, must be done?", I would answer that the spiritual mirror must be handled continually: I mean the divine Scriptures, which contain both the history of good men and the saving laws set by God. For this mirror not only shows ugliness, but also transforms it, if we wish, into irresistible beauty. [Letter 2.136] To Timothy, most illustrious. [To governors.] Nothing, best of men, is more profitable than piety. It preserves their subjects even for victorious emperors. Looking to it, then, try to steer the ship of government so that, as far as it lies with you, those you govern may remain untouched by storms. If the task has its toils, it also has its joys. And if you say, "Not at the same time," I would answer: no, that is not possible. For since, being at war, they would not bear to be reconciled, they were joined together at their heads. For where toils come, joys follow afterwards. [Letter 2.137] That the wicked man prospers, and that the reasonable man, full of praises that reach the limit, falls into the most extreme hardships, is truly hard to guess and hard to grasp, and lies beyond the measures of humanity and very far from them. One must yield to the divine judgments. And if we wish to think rightly, we will ascribe the knowledge of the dispensation to the pure Mind alone, and proceed to what lies at hand, which even so is found by us only with difficulty. But since you think one must defend the argument as far as possible, we have defended it as we could: if you read the discourse we wrote To the Greeks, you will learn the solution of the problem. [Letter 2.138] [On "I became to the Jews as a Jew," and what "not being without law toward God but under the law of Christ" means.] If I were not firmly persuaded that your understanding would fill up what our tongue lacks, I do not think I would have written this letter. What, then, is it that you wished to learn? For what reason the Apostle said, "To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews; to those without law as one without law, not being without law toward God but under the law of Christ, in order to win those without law." This needs precise examination above all, until the truth hidden in it comes clearly to light. But it shall be said briefly. He became to the Jews as a Jew when he purified himself in the temple and offered sacrifice; and when he circumcised Timothy and sent him to the Jews as a teacher, abolishing circumcision by circumcision. That is why he did not say "a Jew" but "as a Jew." To those without law he became as one without law when, addressing the Athenians, he did not argue from the prophets or from the law, but made his exhortation from an altar, subduing them by their own beliefs. That is why he did not say "without law" but "as without law." As for "not being without law toward God but under the law of Christ," he said it either as making no difference (for in one substance there is no difference; wishing to show this elsewhere, he said, "He who eats, eats to the Lord, and gives thanks to God"); or, if you think this forced, I think it means that he lived not only according to the law that some ascribe to the Father, which, because of the condition of the learners and not because of the dignity of the lawgiver, was fitted rather to infants and to the elements, but also according to Christ's heavenly and perfect law. It is as if he said: not lawless according to the old law, but also within the law according to the Gospel; not outside the law, but also inside grace; not without experience of milk, but also experienced in solid food; not untrained in the wrestling school, but also shining at the Olympic games. "I did not commit adultery, because of the law; but neither did I look licentiously at a woman, because of the Gospel. I did not commit murder, because of fear; but I also mastered anger, because of love." For the one who kept the old law was not without law toward God, and the one who keeps the new is under the law of Christ. He said this not as assigning the law to the Father and the Gospel to the Son, but with an eye to the suspicion and opinion of the many. For all that is the Father's is the Son's, and all that is the Son's is the Father's.

To Hermogenes the bishop. [On what is written, "What profit is there in my blood?"] Love (if I must say all that is bitter to you) has gone: a precious, great and splendid thing, which the prophetic choir foretold, for which the Saviour came to dwell here, and which the apostles preached, sealing with their own blood what had been decreed. So, looking only to our own interests and leaving the common enemy alone, we arm ourselves against one another. And the one who was utterly defeated is in danger, strengthened by our division, of fighting back and winning. For he has fallen, even if he is rashly bold; but our carelessness and our war against one another have become sinews and strength to the fallen one, so that the achievement accomplished by the Saviour is in danger, as far as the careless are concerned (bold as it is to say, it will be said, since it is true), of being lost. Perhaps that is why he foretold through the Psalmist what you sought to learn: "What profit is there in my blood, when I go down to corruption?", that is, into the much-corrupted nature of human beings. For even if it signifies other things too (in a more moral sense it is taken of David, in a more natural sense of Adam), yet many saints thought that its aim looks to this also. "I," he says, "went down so far that many disbelieved because of my great condescension; I subdued the tyrant; and the beholder of the Seraphim cries out: 'Learn to do righteousness, you who dwell on the earth; for the ungodly one has ceased.' But you have betrayed, through your own carelessness, the achievement greater than every hope, the supernatural trophy beyond all wonder." What defence, then, will be left to you, what pardon, what mercy, when you are required to give account of this life, which I see lying only in the Scriptures, and nowhere else, and nowhere in deeds?

To Maron the presbyter. [To those who live unworthily of the priesthood.] Everyone greatly wonders how, running loose in your offences, neither obeying the bridle nor sobered by reproof, you mock the wretched Zosimus, whom you emulate most of all. If you did not do the same things as he, you ought to correct him, not mock him. But if you have become a more exact imitator of him than painters are, emulating what should not be emulated, why, thinking you are parading only his insensibility, do you publish your own as well? For those who hear think it just that both of you should be stoned, the one as master builder of the evils, the other as his genuine disciple. One of two things, then, you ought to do: either stop sinning, or stop mocking the man who does the same as you. For this is more terrible than terrible things. [Letter 2.141] [Similar.] If it is lawful to say it (and it is lawful to speak without lying when contending for the truth), the divine preaching is in danger of being overturned by the very men who seem to plead for it. For by doing the opposite of what they say, they have persuaded many to pay attention to what is said as to fables. They must therefore consider that the danger looks to them, and do everything to remain untouched by it.