Letters 2.94–2.123

To Isidore the presbyter. Not to repent after stumbling is deadly; to despair is deadlier. The one springs from carelessness, the other from insensibility. As much as insensibility is worse than carelessness, so much more grievous is despair than carelessness. For despair is an incurable evil, while carelessness will go on to healing, since the one belongs to a corrupted judgment, the other to miscalculation and deceit. Why, then, do you accuse us of negligence for not writing letters to the wretched Zosimus, drowned as he is in the two most grievous evils, carelessness and insensibility? We have not been negligent, excellent friend; urged often by many on his account, we have worn ourselves out admonishing that implacable beast with words, with exhortation, threat, promise and punishment. And, it seems, we were unaware that we were washing an Ethiopian and striving to force a demon in human form to gentleness. Knowing, then, that nothing in our power has been or will be omitted, grant him your prayers; perhaps he may somehow recover from such madness. Pardon would justly be granted to those who are not trained into greater offences by kindness; but punishment ought to follow those who are not helped by kindness. So much for that. And since you wrote that you wish to ask about prophetic sayings but do not dare, I reply that I would be displeased with you if I saw you keeping silent about what you wish to ask. [Letter 2.96] To Timothy the reader. You seem to have obeyed the divine Paul and to attend to reading. So I too will try to clarify the question you put forward. You said: "If King Belshazzar died that very night, how did Scripture say, 'And Belshazzar spoke, and they clothed Daniel in purple, put the gold chain around his neck, and proclaimed concerning him that he was third ruler in his kingdom'?" I think, then, that the divine sentence was inscribed on the wall when it was already dark (this is shown by "opposite the lampstand"); the king was greatly troubled and paralysed with fear; the queen, driven out of her reckoning by the king's paralysis, neglecting her usual and fitting decorum, burst into the banquet while it was still night; the divine oracle was interpreted by the most wise Daniel, and he was at once honoured with the purple and the necklace, in the presence of the whole army and those in authority (for the prizes of wisdom had clearly been set out); and the proclamation was made before those present that he would be third in the kingdom, that is, after the king and the queen. And if someone says that this should have been done in a crowded marketplace and not in the palace, we would say that, above all, what is done in the palace is ratified everywhere; for the most divine vote ratified within naturally prevails everywhere. And perhaps it is more likely that it was also set down in writing. What was done in the palace, which was all but about to be done before all, or rather was already fulfilled by the judgment of the one who ordered it, the historian set down as done. And so Darius the Mede too, who succeeded the tyrant, being ignorant of nothing that had happened, counted him worthy of the highest honour. [Letter 2.97] To Alypius. Perhaps you do not know that a difficulty is never solved by a difficulty; rather we are accustomed to take the proof of what is disputed from what is agreed. [Letter 2.98] To Leontius the bishop. Many people long for virtue but shrink from walking the road that leads to it; others do not even think that virtue exists. One must persuade the former to lay aside their sluggishness, and teach the latter that virtue is truly virtue. [Letter 2.99] To Aphrodisius the presbyter. Since, as you wrote, a certain Jew, full of ignorance, has given you trouble by condemning as exaggeration the divine evangelist who said, "I suppose that not even the world itself could contain the books that would be written," it is necessary to bring forward from the Old Testament, which he too accepts and regards as divine, the things said there by hyperbole, so that he may know that the evangelist also, following that old Scripture, wrote what he wrote. Let us learn, then, what is written. Of the cities of the Canaanites: "Cities walled up to heaven"; of their land it is said: "A land flowing with milk and honey"; and of those who sail: "They go up to the heavens and go down to the depths." Let that rustic sage interpret these, then, not fleeing to a spiritual sense or trying to allegorize, but stating the facts themselves. If he cannot (for he must say either that they were said by hyperbole or that they need interpretation), why, bearing proof of the utmost ignorance against himself, did he think to attack the evangelist, who, even if he seemed to use hyperbole, restrained it by saying "I suppose"? There the hyperbole is unmixed; here it is tempered. He did not let it go simply, but restrained it; and one who restrains his hyperboles does two things: he shows his own longing and he holds to the truth. And it is likely that it was not even said by hyperbole. For it was not said that Jesus did many other signs in this world, but that he did them, without limitation. And there are other works of his older than the world, which cannot be handed down in writing or in books, not only because of their number and greatness but because they are beyond word and thought. Who will be able to describe the nature of the heavenly hosts, their order, their good arrangement, their rhythm, their harmony, their love, their peace, and all the rest that cannot even be numbered? And if someone took the saying as referring to the greatness and height of the doctrines, he would not miss the truth. The apostles wrote what they could contain, as Peter, the chief of the choir, clearly declared in his Acts: "What we could contain, we wrote"; but the world did not contain even what was written. The lover of money did not contain the word about poverty, nor the lustful the word about chastity, nor the greedy the word about justice, nor the cruel the word about humanity, nor the angry the word about gentleness. If, then, the world did not contain what the apostles perhaps contained (and Christ cries, "My word finds no room in you," and Paul, "Make room for us"), how would the world have contained what perhaps not even the apostles contained? He calls "world" the crowd excited about worldly and earthly things, of which it was said, "And the world did not know him." The world spoken of does not contain them, not for lack of room but for lack of character; not because of the number of writings but because of the greatness of the matters.

To Paul. Why, man, ignorant of what concerns you, do you seek what is above you? And why do I say "what concerns you"? Explain to me one of the things that lie at hand, and then I will not blame you for busying yourself with what is above you. Fire, from which the arts spring, leaps out not only from iron, bronze and stones, but also from water and wood. Explain the wonder to me, then. Does it lie within the wood? Then how does it not consume it? But it does not lie within it; how, then, is it born from it? If, then, no one can say how fire, without which human beings contrive almost nothing worth mentioning (for it is a help against cold, a remedy against darkness and a fellow worker in every art and science), lurks in materials without consuming them, yet, when it leaps out, consumes the very materials that bore it, stop meddling with things that are neither attainable nor, if they were attainable, could contribute anything great to virtue. For what will it contribute to virtue to meddle with the course of the sun, the circle of the moon, the position of the stars, the shape and size of the earth, and all the other things in which the would-be wise busied themselves, missing the truth and true wisdom and spending their lives in idle talk?

To Hermogenes the bishop. [To approved priests.] Under your good rule, most holy one, neither does the rich man hold the power of money to the ruin of others, nor is the man who lives with poverty deprived of an equal hearing because he is poor. Rather, the one fortified by an abundance of just dealings is considered to possess the treasure of truth, while the one who lacks them, even if he has the treasures of Croesus, is judged poor. Neither the power of speech draws your impartial wisdom away from right judgment, nor does an orator's cleverness outwit the truth; your soul stands unswerving, awarding pure justice to those who come before you. Being such in your verdicts, you have surpassed yourself in humanity even more than you have outstripped others in justice. And so the cities that are ruled by tyranny bewail themselves, and one of them is the city of the Pelusiots. Experiencing the opposite, they call those under you blessed and themselves wretched. For among them a man deserving countless punishments, if he has money, is admired and fought over; while one who flourishes in virtue, if he is poor, is not only counted among the dishonoured but is plotted against. In judgments, where the gold tips the scale, there the vote inclines; justice is wronged, and injustice prevails and runs riot. Pray, then, either that such destroyers may repent or that their subjects may be set free.

To Ammonius. Since excessive friendship seems not to be beyond suspicion, let it be mixed with the fear of God, so that both may flourish in us, the fear of God and the longing for friends: the one banishing evil suspicions, the other giving birth to love, the mother of all good things. For when we have our longing mixed with the fear of God, all good things sprout in us.

To Theodore the scholasticus. [That faith without works does not save a man.] It is not the one who beats off the truth by cleverness and power of speech, wise friend, who deserves praise, but the one who states it simply. So I too will tell you plainly what you wish to learn. The wrestling bouts have been made easy by the divine visitation so that we may win by contending, not so that we may misuse the greatness of grace as an occasion for carelessness. [Letter 2.104] To Serenus. [On boasting.] Do not let your victory over an enemy train you in boasting. For many who were maddened by boastfulness, as if they had been setting up trophies all the time, who prided themselves on them, thought they would never be worse off and expected never to be caught, saw their seeming success turn plainly to the worse.

[Letter 2.105] To the same. For many, early successes have been the cause of untold evils. Having set up one or two trophies beyond their worth, since their daring had turned into hope, they were lifted up by unexpected success, threw themselves into greater undertakings, and ended in extreme danger even for their first achievements. One must therefore take counsel in a more human way: when succeeding, keep in view what deserves pity, reckon with the swift turns of fortune, and neither think nor speak beyond measure; and when failing, learn human weakness, and not expect one's affairs to be fixed and immortal, as for God. [Letter 2.106] Do not think, excellent friend, that you can catch by a sudden raid what is caught with difficulty and with countless sweats and contests. Rather, making your prelude with toil and prayer, advance to the hunt for the meanings of sacred Scripture, which whet our understanding to greater sharpness.

To Eutonius the deacon. The mind, like an absolute king, must send fearsome thoughts, fenced with arms on every side, down to the gates of the senses, to meet the enemies in advance, to ambush them and to shut them out, and not first allow them entrance and afterwards take on a doubtful battle, which often turns the other way and hands the trophy to the opponents. This is why the saving word threatened to punish the one who looks licentiously, while other lawgivers punish only the act: so that the war might not become hard to win and impossible to fight, but easy and manageable.

To Zosimus the presbyter. Many people, or rather, so to speak, all people, have both excellences and defects; they pride themselves on the one and hide their faces over the other. But you, as they say, are full of defects and destitute and naked of good deeds. That you are overcome by the belly and subdued by the passions that follow the belly is no wonder, for these mostly follow it; whoever rules the belly will be able to rule intercourse too. But since they say that every other defect too dances in you, and call you a storehouse of vice and a treasury of shamelessness, this seems a wonder beyond all amazement. For there are some who are cruel but chaste, or greedy but moderate, or licentious but gentle. But they mock you for going through all of them. They say that you arm your tongue against the lovers of virtue; that you wallow in shameful gains and are proud of it; that you shelter all who were ever notorious for lust and glory in it; and that you raise your brow above your temples, when for deeds that it is not lawful even to mention you ought to keep it lowered. In short, every limb of your body displays the carelessness and the arrogance of your soul; and though the one is the opposite of the other, they insist that both have run together in you. If, then, they speak the truth, repent here, so that you may not do it uselessly there.

To Mark. Why, you said, does wine not affect all who take it alike, but makes some kindly and others angry, some friendly and others quarrelsome, some gentle and others beastly? I think, then (since you force us to discuss natural philosophy), that this happens either from the state of the body, because the causes of such symptoms are increased or diminished by the wine, or from movements of the soul that are hidden from most people. For since wine alone among liquids forms character, it mixes in a way with the characters of those who use it. To whatever character it is applied, it reveals corresponding passions, not creating what is not there but stripping bare what is hidden. For it strips off the feigned character and brings to light what lay concealed. Hence it has become a proverb, as many say: "In wine is truth." It has often shown that those who seemed to pride themselves on a reputation for dignity were blabbers of secrets, and made them say what were better left unsaid; and it has shown that those who often turned to anger out of hatred of wickedness were mild and gentle, removing from the one the reputation for dignity and from the other the charge of anger. For it does not create what is not there, but publishes what is there but hidden.

To Eustathius the deacon. [On those who leave their own offences alone and meddle with those of others.] I greatly wonder how a tyrannical and savage disease, which has no share in pleasure but is in labour with punishment, has mastered every age, subdued every rank and ruined all decorum. For each person, passing over his own failings, which are very great and often beyond pardon, busies himself with those of his neighbours, which are smaller and often deserve pardon. He grieves when he reckons up his own, but exults when he discusses those of others; he spends his own time meddling with and condemning other people's affairs; for himself he provides even excuses that do not exist, while over his neighbours he sits as a bitter and inexorable judge, even if they seem rich in reasonable excuses. Those who wish to devise a cure for such a disease must turn the eye of the soul from the offences of others to their own, and accustom the tongue to speak accusingly, not against their neighbours but against themselves. For this gives birth to righteousness ("Tell your sins first, that you may be justified"), while that begets greater condemnation. For it is a terrible thing, beyond all absurdity, that those who fail greatly should rebuke those who offend in nothing or in little.

To Zeno the deacon. [On ascetic discipline.] Do not compare yourself, dear friend, with those who received the divine preaching joyfully but did not send the seed down into the depth of their mind. Becoming shallow-planted and shallow-rooted, they withered quicker than a word, bearing no ripe fruit and becoming the prey of temptations. Compare yourself rather with those that are deep-rooted, many-rooted, many-stalked and fruitful, whose ears, luxuriant and laden with grain, are heavy-headed and bowed, and at the season of harvest all but call the reapers' sickle upon themselves. For they know well that Christ has commanded the angels to carry such as these to the heavenly inheritance, to feast with him, to reign with him and to share in unending joy. [Letter 2.112] Since the eye steers the whole body, brightens and adorns the face, and is the lamp of all the members, it is set as in a royal place, having been allotted the upper station and presiding over the other senses. As the sun is in the world, so is the eye in the body. And as the sun, if one imagines it put out, would throw everything into confusion, so too, if the eye is put out, feet and hands and almost the whole body are useless. Why have I said this? Because the teacher too is the eye of the body of the Church. If, then, he is full of light, that is, gleaming with the rays of the virtues, the whole body will be full of light, governed by him and receiving fitting care; but if he is dark, that is, doing deeds worthy of darkness, almost the whole body is darkened. For even if some of the members in the ranks are healthy, doing what befits them and in no way harmed by the teacher's wickedness, still they are not strong enough, since the harm consumes the vital parts, and the wickedness provokes the rest to imitate their leader, accuses the healthy, and contrives in every way to throw them too into sickness. That is why it is said, "If, then, the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!" As if one should say to a Church that has a leader with tyrannical desires: if the one who ought to help and enlighten does not even bear to be enlightened, but banishes those who choose to help, what would those under him not do?

To Zosimus the presbyter. [On poverty.] Even if, because of the folly and greed of the many, the achievement of poverty seems to have become impossible, and you do not believe that anyone achieves it, yet there are such people, and I know some. If you yourself do not know them, it is no wonder: drunk with love of money, you naturally do not know those who are purely sober. But at least emulate those who practise self-sufficiency, who live from just labours and are content with their own toil. Or do you not see even these shining out and flashing like lamps? Emulate these for the time being, and stop throwing your defiled and insatiable hands on other people's property and money; and so you will be able to see those others too. For now, when you hear of them, you will not believe, but will even call them nonsense and mock them, sick as you are with an incurable madness. But if you come to moderate health, you would easily see those who are purely healthy, and sometimes you would even have them as guides and leaders on this best road.

To Carpus the presbyter. [On those who loathe the virtuous.] The most perverse and accursed man seems to me to be not the one who hates someone who has wronged and insulted him (for pardon often follows such a man), but the one who hates and mocks someone who is better than he and praised by all. The former, even if he has not climbed to the summit of philosophy, at least seems to have a reasonable cause for his hatred. The latter, with no cause at all, makes war not so much on a man as on virtue, and tries to tear all good things up from their foundations. If Eustathius does this, either he must be stopped from his defilement or expelled as accursed. For there is one virtue: always to flee the outrageous man, especially when he thinks nothing shameful except chastity.

To Dorotheus. [On circumcision.] Who will vote that the pure Mind erred about what is fitting? Who would dare go so far beyond all daring as to accuse Wisdom of stumbling? Yet one would reasonably think so if Wisdom had fashioned the other animals fittingly, but made man alone, whom it had chosen to appoint king and ruler of all things on earth, weighed down with a superfluous burden, which it afterwards commanded to be removed by circumcision. If this cannot be said (for who is so foolish and so lacking in natural sense as to charge the divine knowledge with lack of skill?), it kept the fitting form in man too. That it fashioned him fittingly is shown by sculptors, stonecutters, modellers and painters, who follow the original formation and prefer its comeliness to what was imposed later for some reason. Let those who admire circumcision beyond measure, then, seek its purpose. If it signifies the circumcision that is in secret, let them heighten their wonder, and then applaud those who without circumcision circumcise their desires. But if it was given them as a sign so that they should not mix with the nations, like a bridle and a brand for unruly and arrogant horses, let them not pride themselves on what pillories their lack of discipline. For if Abel, Enoch, Noah and Abraham were approved before circumcision was seen or spoken of, it is not a ground of approval but rather a seal of approval. Let him, then, who has the wealth of virtue have the seal too. But he who laments the most extreme poverty incurs ridicule, carrying the seal but lacking the wealth. And let the one who prides himself on it hear this too: if the achievement is yours, think as you think, and we will not dispute it; but if it was done at an age too young to know (for which we too give thanks, since we were spared a profitless pain), why do you pride yourself on what belongs to others? For each one may rightly pride himself on his own labours, not on signs that others put on him.

To Paul. [On feasts.] Honour virtues; do not court prosperity. The former are an immortal thing, the latter is easily quenched. So much for that. But know that God, both of old and now, bound the memorials of his benefits to the feasts, so that those who celebrate, keeping their memory fresh, might turn not to drunkenness but to thanksgiving and virtue.

To Theophilus. Above all, if someone were asked by a man who dares to slander the truth, "Are all things possible for God?", and answered "Yes", and the other then added, "Then evil things too", it would be not the one who answered but rather the one who asked who would deserve to be laughed at for ignorance. For evil things are not counted among the things possible to God. Where God is named, the good follows firmly. No one of sound mind would think that evil things are possible for God, nor would anyone call the inability to do evil weakness. For weakness, properly speaking, is the doing of evil. That is why Paul, who knew this most precisely, called sins weaknesses, saying, "For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly." And the Psalmist's word guarantees this: "Their weaknesses were multiplied," he says, that is, their sins. Nor will anyone be thought to have sense who raises against the one who says "All things are possible for God" the following objection. What is it? They are accustomed to babble and say: "Is it possible for God, then, to make what has happened not to have happened?" For such a thing is again useless, and nothing useless is ascribed to the divine power. The slanders against such a statement are superfluous and have been shown to be so; but so that they may not be able to stir them up and corrupt the ears of those who hear, if we are asked whether all things are possible for God, let us answer: "Those that befit him"; and every useless inquiry is dissolved. For he can do all things, but he wills what is best. [Letter 2.118] [On ingratitude.] Do not blame the one who seemed to have acted wisely, but the one who was not brought to his senses even by such forbearance. The one, thinking that a man about to be caught in the act would turn to shamelessness, willingly gave him the chance to escape notice; the other, thinking the wise act foolish, because he seemed not to have been caught, fed his shamelessness, repaying his benefactor with insults. [Letter 2.119] [On the nature of animals.] Since I know that you thirst for something new to hear and will not leave off until you learn, I will tell you briefly, even if what you asked seems to lie beyond the bounds of human thought. Of animals, those that chew their food bear live young, while those that swallow it whole lay eggs. Some are content with their first birth pangs, as bringing their young to completion; others stir up a second: when the time calls for the change of the eggs into living creatures, by brooding them for fixed days they impart a natural power, so that what they formerly bore lifeless receives life. For the seminal principles placed in natures by the Creator from the beginning lie smouldering, and, if they are fanned, they tend to be kindled like sparks in fuel as time makes them grow. So one must marvel at what happens, and refer the wonder to the all-wise Creator. For these things display not the animals' own forethought for their preservation (their nature is governed by impressions, not by reason), but the forethought of the nature that governs the whole. The animals do nothing by understanding; but that nature, being the creator of many kinds, gives each its impulses for the fulfilment of what serves the whole.

To Ausonius the corrector. [To governors.] To the supplications of those besieged by poverty or by the powerful, admirable friend, keep your ears open and wide as a highway, by your gentleness guiding even those who speak haltingly onto the road of speech; but to the fabrications of slanderers and informers keep them shut and inaccessible, checking with a stern look their eagerness to say what is worse. [Letter 2.121] [On priests.] I would not blame Zosimus and Palladius, Maron and Eustathius, and the others you listed, who have so danced away piety and outraged the priesthood, as much as Eusebius, who gave them all their occasion. For had he not sold them the priesthood, as you say, they would not have run aground in such vice. For even if they were very bad before their ordination, it is not the same thing for a layman to sin and for a priest, as is clear from the law: it commands as great a sacrifice to be offered for a priest who sins as for the whole people. If the sin were not of equal weight, it would not have ordained the same sacrifice. The sin becomes greater not by its nature but by the dignity of the one who commits it. For he who regulates others, if he stumbles, makes the stumble greater because of his dignity. If, then, the one who gave the seed is the cause of the plants, Eusebius would rightly deserve to be lamented more than they. [Letter 2.122] [On those who pursue the priesthood badly.] I welcome your divine zeal, because you are indignant at seeing the priesthood outraged by Eusebius, who bears that name as a contradiction of piety. By the same means by which, unworthy of the priesthood, he somehow revelled his way into it, he also hands it out to anyone who comes along, regarding the divine ministry as a cheap and trodden thing. But since these things belong to the divine and impartial Judge, who now is long-suffering in order to lead those who stumble to repentance, but afterwards will not bear what is done and will fix unbearable punishments, let us look after ourselves and keep quiet. If there were any gain from speaking out boldly, I would yield to no one, though I have often been plotted against for it. But since it is a time for silence, let us await the Judge.

To Maron. Do not keep offending in the expectation of obtaining pardon, but procure your safety by not offending. For many who did much in the expectation of pardon missed the pardon, neither acknowledging their fault nor being forgiven. [Letter 2.124] To Martinian, Zosimus, Maron, Eu…