Letters 2.151–2.179

[Letter 2.153, continued: …stathius.] One of the men worthy of mention and remembrance, adorned with nobility and good character, met me and reported with tears that some men who care not a little for virtue, sitting together by themselves, said things like this about you: "What secret and shameful passions will these men shrink from committing in secret, who behave so shamefully in the open? How would they respect the divine oracles, who do not even blush at fables? What hidden evils would they not commit, who even pride themselves on those that are plain to see? How could they be brought to their senses by any excess of rebuke, who laugh even at those who are self-controlled? How would they stop when they are reproved, who mock those who reprove them? … How would they fear judgment, who by their works proclaim that it does not exist? How will they obey Christ, who proclaim Epicurus by what they do?" When I heard this, I was struck to the soul. You would do well to consider how you may wipe out this mockery. You will wipe it out if you acknowledge your fault; you will acknowledge it if you are persuaded that the sacred Scriptures are true; you will be persuaded if you continually enjoy them; you will enjoy them if you learn their meaning; you will learn it if you sit at the feet of those who are wise according to God; you will sit at their feet if you flee vice; you will flee it if you fear the punishments that hang over it; you will fear them if you believe that God exists; you will believe if you recover from such great madness; you will recover if you emulate those who have recovered; you will emulate them if you lay hold of virtue; you will lay hold of it if you fall in love with the kingdom; you will fall in love with it if you consider visible things to be temporary; you will consider them so if you learn their nothingness; you will learn it if you observe how perishable they are; you will observe this if you look at them with impartial eyes; you will look so if you hold fast to heavenly things; you will hold fast to them if you make the eye of the soul more clear-sighted; and you will make it so if you accustom it to look continually to God.

To Ophelius the scholasticus. Clarity mixed with dignity makes what is said not unclear to the hearer. [Letter 2.155] The celebrated Timothy the reader, worthy of every praise, lived so rightly that no one could say that he was admired but not loved. He reaped both alike: admiration from his love of virtue, love from his avoidance of what is burdensome to others. Because of the orderliness of his mind he seemed older than those of his age and a contemporary of his elders, able to admonish the former and giving the latter nothing to correct. [Letter 2.156] They say that you have built a splendid house beyond all wonder, but have neglected your soul as something utterly worthless and of no account. Know, then, that you are not taking good counsel. The house, even though silent, will be a herald of your greed in times to come; but the soul will undergo the fearful punishments. [Letter 2.157] To Martinian, Zosimus, Maron, Eu…

[Letter 2.157, continued: …stathius.] What oracle, excellent men, or what word of the Saviour has not come to pass, that you should set aside the one about the judgment? If those failed, let this one not be believed either. But if all of them have come to pass, why do you not deign to believe this one? For what has happened guarantees the outcome of what will be. And if you wish, we will not refuse to bring forward briefly some of the oracles; all of them, perhaps, it is neither possible nor easy for us to bring forward. He said that Jerusalem would be taken, and it was taken. He said that that famous temple would be pulled down, and it happened. He said that the apostolic preaching would prevail, and it has prevailed. He said that he would be more revered by children than their fathers, sweeter to fathers than their children, and more longed for by wives than their husbands, and the event followed. He said that the Jews would be scattered, and they have been dispersed everywhere like runaways and slaves deserving the whip. He said that the Church would be warred against but not conquered, and clear and splendid are its trophies on land and sea. He said that what the woman who poured the ointment on his feet had done would be made known, and the deed has escaped no one. He said that as much earth as the sun looks upon, so much the preaching would take hold of, and it has taken hold of it; there is no nation and no remotest region that has not heard it. He said that he would make the fishers of fish fishers of men, and to this day the net is hunting. He foretold the cross and his death, [and that the divine nature would come down to our condition,] and this has been fulfilled. He spoke of the resurrection and the ascension, and they happened. But if I try to bring forward all the oracles, I could not stop even if I wished. He, then, who said all these things and brought them to completion, will he not be believed when he has spoken about his most glorious second coming and his impartial judgment? And who among those not lacking mind and sense will tolerate that? If those oracles had not come to pass, let this one not be counted worthy of belief either. But if all have reached their fitting end, why is this one alone disbelieved? Nor will this be passed over, which is no small thing but in my judgment the greatest: the very things for which he is disbelieved, his accomplishing so great a dispensation, performing such new signs, healing passions through his passion and putting death to death through death, received their proof through the facts. For if he were a mere man, he would not after death have subdued all, driven the swarms of countless gods out of the world, muzzled the famous oracles, ordained fishermen as teachers of all under the sun, and tamed savage and inhuman tribes. But his foretelling that there will be a judgment, a thing agreed upon by most of the wise and the most famous of them, just and consistent, befitting rational beings, fitting divine providence, and offering a defence regarding the things here that seem to many to happen unevenly, is, I know not how, disbelieved. If the things that were disbelieved came to pass, by what device will what is believed not come to pass? If he was not refuted where he went against opinion, he would be worthy of belief where he agrees with it. If things that surpass rational inquiry have happened, much more will what accords with reason happen. For after what has happened beyond reason, what is reasonable and consistent will follow.

To the same. [From the Epistle of James, on the saying, "The tongue is a fire, the world of unrighteousness."] The divine writing, excellent men, does not agree with what you have understood, but quite disagrees. For you said that the tongue is moved and thrown into disorder by fate. The sacred oracle says the opposite: that the time of our life is thrown into confusion by the tongue. For time is wheel-shaped, revolving into itself. There is nothing like hearing Scripture itself. What does it say? "The tongue is set among our members, setting on fire the whole body and staining the wheel of our life." It did not say that the wheel stains the tongue, but that the tongue stains the wheel, that is, time, which is wheel-shaped. For it blames our choice and checks our rashness, through which our life becomes rough and falls into countless irregularities. That is why it added, "and set on fire by Gehenna." It would not have added this if the tongue moved involuntarily. That it called time a wheel because of its wheel-like and circular shape (for it rolls back into itself), the Psalmist guarantees, calling it a crown and saying to God, "You will bless the crown of the year of your goodness." Here too time is rightly called a crown from its circular shape. If, then, you wish not to incur ridicule, do not bring forward as agreeing with your wishes an oracle that contradicts them; rather, choke the tongue with countless bridles.

To Orion the monk. We were pleased, more than your friends or certainly no less, that your Understanding has bidden farewell to the affairs of life and stripped for the contest of the divine philosophy. And we believe that, with the divine aid working with you, you will win proclamations and crowns.

To Nilus. I have often wondered at those who make God's long-suffering a provision for vice. When such kindness governs, vice ought not to grow; rather, those who have obtained mercy and pardon, respecting the benefaction, ought to abstain from vice and hold fast to virtue. But they dare what should not be dared. Let them know, then, that they will not escape justice; for the divine oracle cries, "He will render to each according to his works."

To Aphrasius the presbyter. Even if our wrestling is not against blood and flesh, we must still learn the rules of the athletes from those who wrestle against blood and flesh. They not only strip (for stripping is the beginning of the contest), but also cut off their hair and anoint themselves with oil, so that they may not be caught by the hair, and so that by the oil they may make their opponent's hands slip; and so they go into the contest. So we too, if we long to be crowned, must strip off the old man with his deeds, cut off what is outward and spend it on alms, and, naked of every care and without a tunic, go up into the stadium of virtue to contend in the Olympic games of the soul. But if we do none of these things and yet think that we are contending, and pride ourselves on it, first we will be laughed at here by the sensible, and then there we will learn exactly that we deceived ourselves, when we are led away not only without a crown but to pay the penalty.

To Athanasius the presbyter. Since you wrote that you wonder how the priesthood of Zosimus, who seems to be a presbyter, terrible as it is, does not seem terrible to the one who lawlessly ordained him, I would answer that you are rightly indignant, from a character that hates evil and loves good; no one will dispute that. But I thought it right to advise you of this too: keep your tongue clean of abuse. For even if he deserves countless deaths, as you wrote, since he was not improved even by the honour but used the priesthood as a weapon of vice and dares what should not be dared (for which, unless he acknowledges his fault, he will be required by the impartial Judge to pay the severest penalties; for God is not unjust), still you ought not to defile your own mouth by mocking his defiled deeds.

To John the scholasticus. [On philosophy.] If your opponent at law provokes you to fight, it is better not to answer. But if, as you say, this is impossible for you, since you have not chosen the highest philosophy, mix your rebuke with philosophy, saying to him the orator's words: "I fear that, in saying what befits you, I may fall into words that do not befit me." So you will both be moderately philosophical and exact justice from him.

To Heraclides the presbyter. [That the devil gets the occasions of his strength from our carelessness.] You said that you wonder greatly how the devil masters most people even after he has been unnerved. But I do not wonder if that defiled one, being sleepless and letting no occasion or hour go by, prevails over us when we are careless and asleep. He will be able to destroy with himself those who are defeated, but he could not reign again in his first kingdom, which was overturned by the divine power. On the contrary, it would be a wonder if we, doing none of the things that befit victors, prevailed over one who moves everything against us. That many people fight on the enemy's side against their brothers, and that defeat plainly results from this, though it is true, I will pass over, lest it seem too bitter to those who do it. When, then, we fall through our own carelessness, are tripped up because he contrives against us everything that ought to be for us, and are scandalized because our brothers fight on his side and arm themselves against us, why do you wonder that we are defeated? And if you say, "What, then, must be done?", I will answer: since, although the devil has fallen, he is still rashly bold, we must keep awake, toil, run risks, call on the divine alliance, and do everything to conquer both the general himself and those who fight with him. But if we are willing to do none of these things and betray what Christ has achieved, we must blame ourselves, and not his strength, which the Saviour quenched but our carelessness has increased.

To Eudaemon the reader. Shadow and dream and smoke, excellent friend, and whatever else flies away more quickly, is what human life is rightly called. So one must not cling to it, nor think luxury to be luxury. For the greater part of life is spent without perception: the first age is full of much folly, and the age that goes toward old age withers all our perception, and small is the middle part that can enjoy luxury with perception. Or rather, not even that shares in it purely, since countless cares, toils and griefs spoil it. And even if it did enjoy it purely, which is impossible, the middle ought not to be master over the extremes; rather the two together should prevail over the middle. And when the middle too is troubled by countless storms, cares, dangers, plots, toils and the other things I now pass over, where, tell me, will you show me luxury?

To Ammonius the scholasticus. [Why Christ, going to the cross, rebuked the women who were lamenting.] You seem (by what name could I worthily address you?) not to follow common notions. For your writing to ask why Christ did not accept the women who suffered with him, but even rebuked them, is the greatest proof that common notions are not kept by you. Sympathy is an insult to one for whom the suffering is not against his will. Those who suffer unwillingly are rightly lamented; those who contend willingly are called blessed. For it is not the events but the intentions of the sufferers, when they are examined, that draw the one response or the other. That robbers and martyrs suffer the same things neither starts from one beginning nor looks to one end.

To Theophilus. [That stories of virtue, and constant remembrance of those who have shone in it, bring the greatest benefit.] You know that the best stories are wont to rouse the innate impulses in us that look toward virtue. If, then, this is so, let us neither say nor do anything out of tune with them.

(Addressee not recovered.) [On poverty.] Since the man who through comedy put a tragic brow on the people and made their vulgarity austere seemed to you the best adviser, since he wrote what by nature makes his hearers austere with great dignity, hear him saying: "Being poor is not a shameful thing" … regarding poverty as the mother of philosophy and of all knowledge and art … [Letter 2.169] … For this reason, in the Olympic games held in his honour, the contestants are crowned in this way. But in Christ's stadium the law of crowns is the opposite: it is laid down that the one who is struck, not the one who strikes, is crowned, so that the wonder may be made greater not only by the victory but also by the manner of the victory. For when what makes for victory among men is shown to produce defeat, then it is rightly believed to be a divine power, a heavenly stadium, an angelic theatre.

To Eustathius the presbyter. Since brilliant praise is being raised [rightly] for you by everyone, you would do well to keep watch so as to establish it firmly by what you do hereafter.

To Martinian, Zosimus, Maron and Eustathius. If there were someone (by what name can I call you so as to touch your insensibility?) who would guarantee the future and make it plain that none of you will ever again dare to do such things as you have done, I would gladly have kept quiet and granted the past to be forgotten. But since there is no adequate guarantor, admonition by this letter seemed necessary to me. If it finds you sick with the same disease, perhaps it will do its work; if it finds you recovered from your madness, then what I pray for has happened. For the best physicians, who reap a grief of their own from the misfortunes of others (for many of them practise the art only for gain), pray, once they have prepared their remedies, that the sick man may not even need them; so I too pray that none of you may need this admonition. But if it should happen (may it not!), you will get no second voyage. What, then, I thought it necessary to advise you, I will tell. I am compelled to say what I do not wish to say plainly: that, having fallen I know not how into the labyrinth of vice, you have outraged not only the divine laws but, as they say, the very laws of nature. For those who act outrageously against nature and its law rightly rage against one another as well. Desire is not easily checked when it lacks the bridle of the fear of God; like a horse that does not obey the bridle, or, more properly said, like a plague, it spreads over every age and ruins every family and every rank. It is not good to trouble the ears of dignified men; but to rebuke those who fearlessly do what is not lawful is most useful. For it would be great cowardice, when one is about to root out an evil, not even to attempt to utter a sound, as if silence would cure vice of itself. Still, even so, as far as I could, I have written in veiled terms, so that, brought to your senses, you may stop both the sins that seem to be according to nature and those that go beyond its bounds, lest you be required to pay penalties beyond all bounds. For in every way the manner of the punishment vies with the greatness of the offences, showing by comparison that what Sodom suffered was child's play. [Letter 2.172] Judgment, I think, is unmixed; but it is mixed according to the quality, quantity and magnitude of the sins. For to this aim above all looks what the Psalmist said: "A cup is in the hand of the Lord, full of a mixture of unmixed wine; all the sinners of the earth shall drink of it." That the cup here stands for punishment is also said to Jeremiah: "Take the cup of wrath, and make all the nations drink, and Jerusalem first." Those who say that the Psalmist prophesied about the mystical cup are refuted by Jews and Greeks and all who have no share in it; and not least by the sacred Psalmist himself, who said before these words, "God is judge: he humbles one and exalts another." [Letter 2.173] To Theodosius the presbyter. [Why the Lord wept over Lazarus.] Christ wept over Lazarus, image of philosophy, above all setting rules and limits for us in this as in other things, so that we may not be carried away in frenzy by grief. Those who saw it said, "See how he loved him." But since you said, "It did not befit one who foreknew that he would rise to weep (for we all weep for the dead, not for those we expect to rise again at once)," see whether the argument can reach exactness. He was a friend of the Saviour; and being his friend, he was certainly righteous, for he would not have been loved by the spotless Righteousness if he were not righteous (it knows how to love not by favour but by judgment). And being righteous, and having gloriously finished the stadium of this life, he was certainly in rest and honour. This man, then, whom he was going to raise for his own glory, he wept for, all but saying: "The one who has sailed into harbour I call back again to the high waves; the one already crowned I lead back to the contests."

To the same. Though there is much talk about virtue at almost every gathering, the many take little account of it, and the few much. Yet all proclaim it, not only its lovers but also its enemies; so great is its beauty. And vice is reviled both by its enemies and by its lovers; so great is its ugliness. But armed with the pleasure of the moment it wins esteem among many, beast-shaped though it is, above virtue, which flashes with divine beauty. One must know, then, that even if the pleasure of the moment seems stronger than what will profit later, it turns to a deadly end. It is better, then, to go from toils to rest than from pleasure to punishment. [Letter 2.175] [On what is written, "Wise as serpents and innocent as doves."] Prudence mixed with simplicity produces something divine: I mean the most perfect virtue. But if one is separated from the other, prudence falls into wickedness and simplicity ends in folly; the one is apt for doing harm, the other for being deceived. And for this reason the divine oracle did not present this through a single image; for among irrational animals there is no prudence together with simplicity, but some pursue wickedness and others simplicity. Instead it said, "Be wise as serpents and innocent as doves": not so that we may imitate the serpent's venom and striking (for the Jews are reviled as serpents and offspring of vipers), nor its treachery and deceit (for an example is not taken in every respect but in part; otherwise it would not be an example but an identity); but so that we may strip off the old man, that is, vice, like a slough, guard our faith as the serpent guards its head, and care little for the body. The rest we leave aside, and mix with these the simplicity of the dove: not so that we may take on its foolishness (for Ephraim is reproached as a silly dove without heart), but its artlessness and guilelessness. If you like, the argument will proceed through another example. Not only Christ is called a lion, but also the righteous man and the devil, though not in the same respect; for, as I said before, the example is not taken in every respect but only in the part that serves what is being said, and the rest is let go. Christ is a lion in respect of what is royal and invincible: "He lay down and slept like a lion." The righteous man, in respect of what is fearless and undaunted: "The righteous is confident as a lion." The devil, in respect of what is beastly and bloodthirsty: "Like a lion he walks about, seeking someone to devour." If, then, Scripture presented different images from one animal, and we do not confuse their meanings but give each what fits it, why do you wonder that Paul took the image of the clay, not to destroy free will, which he crowns everywhere, but not only to show the great readiness and obedience that man ought to have toward God, but also to heal the rage of those who dare to find fault with the pure knowledge that is beyond all word and thought?

To Isidore the deacon. If God put up with sacrifices and blood because of the infancy of humankind at that time, why do you wonder if he [also put up with] music played on the lyre and the psaltery, which, as some say, heals the passions of the soul, soothes grief, tames anger and lightens mourning through tears? For many, they say, who held back from weeping fell into various illnesses. [Letter 2.177] [What "Eir" means in Daniel.] Since you asked what "By the decree of the Eir is the word, and the question is the saying of the holy ones" means (for this, you say, Daniel left out of his interpretation), know this. The barbarian, through his excessive power and his thinking that his kingdom was invincible, fell into such arrogance that he thought himself beyond human things and ranked himself in a divine station; and he was about to be cut down, as the cutting down of the tree in the vision testified. Wishing to make him more sober not only by fear of what he saw but also by its form, God shaped the narrative as at a royal tribunal: the king pronounces the sentence, the general interprets it, that is, announces the verdict (for "decree" means interpretation), and the soldiers carry it out. By "Eir" he meant the one who made the proclamation of the sentence, as it were an archangel (for Eir is interpreted "wakeful"), and by "holy ones" the angels ordered to cut down the tree. Since they could not prevent the sentence (for it had been delivered with urgency and a shout), yet some hope of salvation appeared, since the roots remained, they "ask", that is, request to learn the appointed time. And he teaches them not only this but also the cause: "So that the living may know," he says, "that the Most High rules the kingdom of heaven …"

To Hermogenes the bishop. I know that you set out to admonish Zosimus, Palladius and Maron not to display cleverness of speech or to hunt the glory that comes from it, but out of goodwill and affection. If they, mocked as they are by everyone, think they are mocked by you alone and are ill-disposed toward you, do not be afraid. You have the divine alliance, shielding you and punishing them.

To Strategius the scholasticus. The boldness of the righteous in speaking for their own righteousness, admirable friend, was born not from boasting but from necessity: necessity forced them to come to it, so that they might not seem to suffer justly. None of them, when at ease, uttered such words; rather, one called himself earth, another ashes, another a worm. But when one of them was left in impossible trials, he was compelled to describe his own life, so as not to seem to suffer for wicked deeds. Fearing to acquire a bad reputation among many fools from what they suffered, or rather being reproached as suffering for sin, they were forced, as I said, to come to these words. For those without mind or sense are accustomed to slander a life on the basis of the misfortunes that befall it in this world, as the friends said to the noble Job: "You have not been scourged as your sins deserve." And the barbarians who saw the viper hanging from his hand thought holy Paul a murderer and a criminal; so they said, "This man is surely a murderer, whom, though he was saved from the sea, Justice has not allowed to live." And that loose-tongued Shimei called the Psalmist a man of blood when he was pursued by his son, passing this wicked verdict on him because of his misfortune. Do not, then, condemn all who are in misfortune yourself, but consider that some endure it for the sake of crowns. And if you wonder and are perplexed, we will bring you this verdict from heaven. What did he who holds power over all say to his own disciples? "In the world you will have tribulation." And to Job it was said: "Do you think I have dealt with you otherwise than that you might be shown to be righteous?" For whom the Lord loves he disciplines, "and he scourges every son whom he receives." Nor is this anything strange. The friends of kings are the very ones who most run risks in wars, receive wounds and are sent on journeys abroad; and these things above all give them boldness before the king and let them treat the one above them thereafter as an equal, since they have the wounds in their bodies as pledges of friendship. And if you say, "What, then, of those who are tripped up by these things?", I would answer that this happens through their own folly, not through the nature of the thing. For the recompense for labours is not here: here are the contests, afterwards the prizes. Let them not seek ease, then, in the time of the contests, nor confuse the times. "But I am weaker," you might perhaps say. But God has provided for you too, and has exacted penalties here from many of the wicked and rewarded some of the righteous. So if the righteous who are in affliction scandalize you, let those in ease and honour build you up; and if the wicked who prosper trip you up, let those under punishment and penalty set you upright.