Letters 3.194–3.221

To Taurus the prefect. Vice, of evil name and ill repute, prevails when tyranny holds sway; but virtue wins when kingship orders affairs. For tyranny looks to its own advantage, kingship to that of the ruled. [Another letter] [On the grace of holy baptism.] Since your magnanimity has written wishing to learn for what reason infants are baptized, though they are sinless, I thought it necessary to write back. Some, then, belittling it, say that they are washed of the defilement transmitted to nature through Adam's transgression. I believe that this too happens, but not this only (for that would be no great thing); rather, that many other gifts far exceeding our nature are given. For nature received not only as much as it needed for the destruction of sin, but was also adorned with divine gifts. For it was not only freed from punishment and stripped of all wickedness, but was also born again from above (a divine regeneration, beyond reason, devised as if by some machine), was redeemed, sanctified, brought into adoption, justified, became co-heir of the Only-begotten, was made one body with him through participation in the holy mysteries, and is counted as his flesh; and as the body to the head, so it is united to him. The divine Paul, the steward of Christ's thoughts, having considered this, said at one time, "And he gave him as head over all things to the church," that is, above all the other gifts, he gave her this: that Christ is her head; and at another, "Much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and of the gift and of righteousness reign in life." He did not say "grace," but "abundance of grace," showing that we received not only a medicine matching the wound, as some petty people think who have no sense of God's munificence, but also beauty, honour, glory and dignities far exceeding our worth. Do not, then, friend, think that baptism only removes sins, but that it also produces adoption, divine kinship, and countless other goods, both those mentioned and those omitted. For the King of all not only ransomed the captive nature, but also raised it to the highest honour. [Another letter] We must not make God's unsurpassable patience an occasion for carelessness, lest we be caught sinning beyond pardon on both counts: by having been careless without reason, and, still more without reason, by having despised his goodness.

To Theognostus the presbyter. That, if the accursed Eusebius had not cut off the impulses of the renowned Timothy toward the good, he would have made him a man known and celebrated throughout the world, I think your understanding does not doubt. But that even so he did not end his life without glory, but sung by all for the noblest things, learn from me. And if I must say something wonderful, perhaps those who are trained for virtue and become crowned victors are not so esteemed as those who are hindered and not allowed even to think what virtue is, let alone do it, and yet show themselves its genuine lovers. For this is a naked test of their mind. [Another letter] The letter you wrote to me accuses you of surpassing humility. And if you deny it, the very sentence you composed, wishing to learn something from me, will convict you. For you said: "Teach me too, the last of all and as one untimely born, why God through Isaiah said that he would make the scarlet sins of those who repent white as wool, and the crimson ones white as snow." Admiring your humility, and that you have bound on like a diadem Paul's greatest distinction (for he too said that he was one untimely born, though he reshaped those who had been miscarried and was in labour a second time with those who had not kept the divine features), I will go briefly to the interpretation. I say, then, that he promised to heal the extremes moderately and the middle ones extremely.

To Peter the monk. One must not, blessed friend, go over everything with shameless and unrestrained eyes, but put modesty on them as a bridle, so that we may not later pay the penalty of wicked desire, which even here tears and scourges the mind worse than executioners, silts up the harbour of nature (I mean sleep), and makes it always toss at sea and labour. That is why the Saviour, freeing us from troubles and superfluous labours, and wishing us to run the course of chastity without them, threatened an extraordinary punishment against those eager to look curiously: first, checking the root of the passion; next, so that we might not be wounded by the arrow of sight and prepare for ourselves a disease hard to cure or even incurable. For the one who does not look will overcome desire not only more purely but also more easily.

To Lampetius the bishop. [Concerning the affairs of Zosimus.] I too am greatly pained at what is happening wrongly, but I do not let my reason be turned aside. [Letter 3.201] To Theodosius the bishop. That those who have done the same things do not pay the same penalty here confirms the doctrine of the general judgment. That not all are kept for there rouses the duller and more careless, as men who will certainly pay the penalty there even if they escape here. For if no one will be punished there, for what reason were some punished here? That the just, abounding in every virtue, have endured many terrible things here shows the crowns prepared for them there. And that some of them were honoured even here was done for the sake of those who love sin, lest, thinking virtue the cause of evils, they flee it all the more.

To Agathon the presbyter. [What is meant by "Priests, speak to the heart of Jerusalem."] Since a word, when it is bereft of action, reaches no further than the ear, while one animated by action, being swift and effective, goes deep and touches the soul, for this reason God commanded what you wished to learn: "Priests, speak to the heart of Jerusalem." For those who speak to the ears are many, but unworthy of the priesthood; those who speak to the heart are few, but deserve to be crowned with the dignity of the holy ministry. [Letter 3.203] To Eutonius the deacon. If, having committed bearable and easily healed sins, we suffer something hard here, we wipe off the sins. If we have committed inhuman sins, too great for pardon, then if we pay the penalty here we shall pay it there too, but more lightly; and if we escape here, we shall undergo there undiluted and comfortless punishment. And if you think these are mere assertions, the divine Scriptures will guarantee them. Of those who sin curably the Apostle said, "When we are judged, we are disciplined by the Lord, so that we may not be condemned with the world." Of those who have stumbled incurably, who have paid the penalty here and will pay it there, the Judge himself said, "It will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah," as of those who paid here and will pay there too, but more gently. And of those who undergo comfortless and undiluted punishment, he says, "It will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah than for that city," namely the one that drove away the divine heralds. For by comparing those who paid the penalty here with those who did not, and saying that the former will pay more gently, he showed the punishment of those who did not pay here to be unpardonable and most grievous.

To Isidore the deacon. Those who have chosen to guard human nobility must, considering nature's swift change, restrain excess of joy and give themselves over neither to violent grief nor to joy. The one, unless mixed with reason and bridled by prudence, leads to death; the other, unless handed over to the reins of the change that is to be expected, will throw one headlong and make one fall from what is fitting.

To Nilus the grammarian. In wars, when very few fighting for their country meet many, sensible people do not expect them to win, but admire them if they do not fall ingloriously; and if they inflict more harm on their opponents than could be expected, they rank them equal with the heroes. For they consider the one noble, the other beyond nature. And not because the latter is impossible do they let the former go; they honour it as brilliant and renowned. For they were defeated, forced by numbers, not overcome by courage. And those who judge the art of oratory think the same about lawsuits, for they consider the truth hard to hunt down. For they say: "If it happens that the foremost orator is ranged with the side that seems weaker, shall we not be content if he comes near victory, but blame him unless he carries off the victory? Shall we not be glad if by his skill he overshadows the great rottenness of his case, gives some strength to what seems weak, and increases the labour for his opponents at the outset? Shall we not think it enough if he puts some fear of the verdict into those who hoped to carry it at a rush, but call him most simple unless he overturns everything?" And how is this not absurd? For the orator will say: "I was buried, my good man, by the facts; yet I myself wounded my opponent much, though he trusted that he would hold the victory without toil. The defeat came from the inequality of our resources; that the victory was not swift came from my art; so I prevail by the unexpected labour." Why have I gone through this? Because those who seem to be wise judge matters not by the outcome but by the intention. They often proclaim those who seemed to be defeated, and do not think the victors worthy of praise. For the former left nothing undone of what ought to be done, even if they achieved none of what they intended; the latter have often won to their own harm. You too, then, will do better and more humanely if you do not confuse things, but separate these from each other and test each by itself, the intention and the end; and neither praise the one who won unjustly, nor blame the one who was wronged for his defeat, nor define prosperity as virtue or misfortune as vice. If the one who dares but does not succeed had been bound by necessity to win the trophy, he would have incurred blame. But if you find the same man using an excellent judgment but not meeting a good end, do not blame him, with whom it is right to share his grief. But this has been said to you, who know nothing beyond what is seen. For we, who by the eyes of faith see the life to come exactly, rightly despise the wars, trophies and proclamations of this world, since they are dissolved together with the present life; but we fight that war which is waged against the wicked demons and the passions of the flesh, and we say that the one who masters these by unsleeping skill is the victor, even if he seems to have left this life without glory. For obscurity here gives birth to immortal glory, and voluntary poverty gives birth to heavenly wealth. For then good things will appear, when grievous things come to an end.

To Arabianus the bishop. The kingdom of God seems to some to be higher and loftier than the kingdom of heaven, to others the same, named sometimes from God who reigns, sometimes from those over whom he reigns, the heavens. Which of them has touched the truth would be for your wisdom to judge.

To Asclepius the bishop. The lot above the world, flowing with all good things and inaccessible to everything grievous, barren of despondency and mother of all delight, surpassing tongue, ear and mind, prepared for those who have lawfully finished the contest of the present life, does not allow even a sense of the grievous things here. That is why their leader cried, "The sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." For if the president of the games overcomes the labours by the repayment of rewards with much to spare, and instils as much gladness as those who inherit the heavenly lot are likely to have, it is no wonder if they count the distresses of the world as nothing.

To Peter the monk. I greatly wonder how wild beasts, savage by nature, often become tamer by enjoying human skill, while man, who changes their natural savagery into a tameness against nature, turns his own natural gentleness into a savagery against nature, making the wild tame but himself, the tame, wild. He tames the lion and makes it gentle to the hand, but makes his own anger wilder than a lion. And there are two very great obstacles in that case: being deprived of reason and being the most spirited of all; yet by the abundance of the wisdom given by God to man, he masters even nature. Why, then, does the one who conquers nature in wild beasts betray in himself, together with nature, the good of his own choice? For the one who grants the lion what is beyond nature does not keep even what is according to nature for himself; but striving to bring untamed beasts into human nobility, he brings himself down from the throne of rule and drives himself into their madness. Do not stop chanting this to the man about whom you wrote. Perhaps, having tamed his untamed anger, he will make peace at last with the gentlest flock of the lovers of virtue.

To Chaeremon the deacon. Desire for Christ is weaker in us because desire for gold has become stronger, and all our power is spent on this cruel, tyrannical and insatiable passion. So that, if we drive it out of ourselves, he will inflame us more strongly, carry us away with holy frenzy, drive us out of all the affairs of this life, and settle us in the heavenly country.

To Zosimus the presbyter. Since you do something like an incurable disease that has gained licence to spare nothing it desires, bidding farewell to the physicians and feasting on the things that rouse destruction, for this reason your return to chastity seems difficult. But if you stop the luxury that drives one mad into erotic frenzies (for it is the root and mother of licentiousness), the flame of licentiousness too will be quenched. For when the fuel is removed, the fire that grows and comes to a head from it will plainly be extinguished. But if you yourself supply fuel to the fire, how will it cease and stop? If you yourself rouse the beast when it is quiet, who will tame it when it is stirred up and raging? Considering this, then, and what is akin to it, stop living in luxury all the time.

To Eustathius the presbyter. One should write enmity on water, so that it vanishes quickly, but friendship on bronze, so that it is kept firm and unmoved for ever. And if the man who you say is at odds with you does the opposite, let this not trouble you, as though you would be harmed in respect of your crowns. For we were commanded not to avoid being hated (this is not in our power, and perhaps it is impossible; for the best are in every way hated by the base, which is why the saints too endured it), but not to hate people, only the vice in them.

To Paul. People often dare things too great for pardon and punishment for the sake of money and office, and to avoid yielding any of them. Wishing to acquire them, they acquire them through countless evils; and fearing to lose them, they undertake much more grievous things. For thinking that losing them is more terrible than never acquiring them, they contrive harsher things. One must therefore master the passions at their beginnings, so that we may not be found at the end sick incurably.

To Palladius the deacon. Humankind, for the most part, tends to be sober in adversity and to run riot in prosperity. And this is shown most clearly by what the Hebrews experienced. They passed through the Red Sea and suffered nothing dangerous; but when they came into the land, they were shipwrecked.

To Lampetius the bishop. The mind reasoning about the divine essence and authority must, in a manner worthy of God, with greatness, or rather beyond nature, piously and usefully, and as far as possible, express through the tongue to the hearers, if need calls, things hard to hunt down and hard to express, or rather inexpressible, maintaining from the works of Providence that he is, not prying into what he is. For the one is attainable and can be grasped; the other unattainable and not to be hunted down.

To Heron the scholasticus. Those who overshadow the truth by the art of words seem to me much more wretched than those who have not grasped it. The latter, falling short in the hunt through slowness of mind, are perhaps pardonable. But the former, having hunted it down by sharpness of mind but malignantly hiding it, sin beyond pardon.

To Palladius the deacon. [First to Timothy, on "If anyone aspires to the office of bishop."] Those who have not understood the apostolic mind nor looked into the depth of its wisdom, thinking it free of danger to misinterpret the apostolic decrees, are in danger of falling into unreason. For what do they say, drunk with love of office? "It is written, 'If anyone aspires to the office of bishop, he desires a noble work.'" That it is written I would not deny; but that it is to be understood as they would have it I would reject. For even before the interpretation, what follows the words is terrible enough to check most people from such a desire. For it is not for all to be able to take hold of such an office, which is loftier even than kingship (for the one administers divine affairs, the other earthly ones), but for very few, who ought to differ from those they rule as much as shepherds from the sheep, to say nothing more. What then does he say? "A bishop therefore must be above reproach, sober, self-controlled, orderly, hospitable, able to teach, forbearing, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money, managing his own household well, keeping his children in submission with all dignity (for if someone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he care for God's church?), not a new convert, lest he become puffed up and fall into the condemnation of the devil." Which of these have the many achieved, of whom you yourself are one, that they long for a thing beyond their reach? Do they have a life above reproach? Is so much sobriety in them that they keep the soul's eye sleepless? Have they shone so in self-control that they not only keep their own minds sound but chasten even by their silence those who are stung and raging for unclean unions? Is so much orderliness in them that they can strike awe into onlookers by their gait, their look and their voice? For those allotted the episcopate must everywhere appear as a statue of all philosophy. Are they so hospitable as to invite even unknown poor people home to dine? Have they so achieved the teaching word by study that the grace from above has visited them, and springs of spiritual words dwell on their tongue? Do they shine with such gentleness as never to have been drunkenly insolent to anyone? Are they so free from love of money as to distribute even what justly belongs to them to the needy? Are they so forbearing as to bear those who insult and accuse them without cause? Do they have the other excellences that Paul described in sketching the best shepherd? What is it that has carried them away into such frenzied madness? For when they ought to be content to be ranked among those under authority (I say nothing of the fact that, by what they do, if anything that ought to be done were done, they would deserve to be banished even from that), they reach for what is beyond their reach, nourish in themselves a love of the episcopate, and put forward as witness the Apostle, who was eager to heal their deadly passion, as if he were pleading for their disease. My speech wished to rush against them; it was in labour to let go the reins, touch on more fundamental matters, and show that those who so outrage the holy Scriptures and make sport of what is not for sport would not even deserve to be counted among Christians; but under great constraint I held it back, as one pulls up with the bridle a horse rushing into the plain, and urged it to go to the interpretation of the text. What, then, did that divine man say, the many-eyed mind, who administered this office blamelessly? "If anyone aspires to the office of bishop." He did not say, "Let everyone aspire to the office of bishop." He did not prescribe, command or legislate it. But since he knew that most are drunk with love of office, not aiming at virtue but laying claim to rule, and not perceiving the sweat, labours, dangers, cares and sleeplessness of the episcopate (for on him hang all the needs of those under authority. And what are these? The testing of those who are ordained, the food of the hungry, the drink of the thirsty, the clothing of the naked, the protection of the wronged, the care of those who mourn their orphanhood, the support of widows, the punishment of wrongdoers, the refutation of those who try to rule lawlessly, the care of the sick, the correction of those scandalized by burning, the release of those in prison, the comfort of those in misfortunes, the chastening of those who stumble); since, then, the episcopate has all these contests, and many more than these, which I have left out so as not to lengthen my discourse by listing everything, and some thought it to be rule, ease and luxury, and, without examining their own affairs or considering the greatness of the office, leapt upon the thing, he checked their dangerous impulse and taught them not simply to take in hand a thing beyond the reach of most, saying, "If anyone aspires to the office of bishop, he desires a noble work." He did not say, "Let everyone aspire, for he does well" (that is what he would have said if he had wished to praise not the work but the one who longs for it), but "a noble work." For to pass over the fact that not only the wise among the gentiles but also the holy Scriptures call a difficult thing, hard to achieve, a "work," saying, "A faithful man is a work to find," I will state what is understood by all. The thing is a work, excellent friend, not ease; a care, not luxury; a ministry that must give account, not a rule free from scrutiny; a father's care, not a tyrant's independence; a steward's protection, not an authority that renders no account. I praise the work of the episcopate exceedingly, for it is divine; but I do not praise the longing for it, for it is dangerous. I do not say, "He does well"; for not even the very esteemed should nourish this longing in their souls, but should drive it out with all their strength. See the Apostle, experienced in this contest, drenched with countless sweats, familiar with wounds, blows, plots and deaths, so that none of those entrusted to him might perish as far as he was concerned: how he frightens and alarms those eager for office, who are inexperienced in these contests and look only to the honour, and all but shakes his head and cries: "If anyone aspires to the office of bishop, let him look at the labours and consider whether he can be equal to them. Let him see the dangers (for enemies, invisible and often visible, are massed against him), and not think only of the honour. Let him behold the deaths, and not the luxury. Let him consider the plots and the cares, and not incline to ease. Let him know that if anyone is brought to that throne, he is ordained to contend lawfully, not to live in luxury without danger." For the one who has taken hold of the honour alone and overlooked all the other duties that belong to the episcopate will here be struck by countless accusations, and sometimes even deposed from such a dignity; and there he will be cried down before the impartial Judge at that fearful tribunal: the hungry crying, "We did not even enjoy necessary food, but he lived in luxury, made money, and spent the rest on his own ambitions"; the naked saying, "He was harsher to us than winter"; the sick, "He proved heavier to us than the disease"; the orphans, "We enjoyed no protection"; the widows, "He did not lend us a word of comfort"; the prisoners, "He did not shed for us a tear of sympathy"; those in misfortunes, "He did not stretch out to us a healing hand"; and, in a word, all those for whom a bishop is ordained crying out against him. What do you think the impartial Judge will do? Will he not punish more severely the one who did not become better even by the honour? Surely it is plain to all. And if anyone disbelieves, I will read him the sentence: "For he will cut him in two and put his portion with the unbelievers." Considering this, then, let us not make sport of divine things. For we, who barely suffice for our own account, when we bring on ourselves the outcries of so many peoples, where shall we appear?

To Serenus the deacon. Those who sharpen the soul for virtue, being self-grown statues of divine philosophy, associate with the body only of necessity, and, content with necessities and hating the crowd of love of money as the source of all vice, are freed from countless evils. But those who unreasonably think man to be body only (some insist you are one of them, but I do not believe it), sick with the insatiable love of money, are tormented by never reaching satiety, and, goaded by endless desire and always thinking themselves in poverty, do what it is not right to do. They must therefore consider that even the greatest wealth is found to be poverty compared with boundless appetites, and that, compared with nature's sufficiency, poverty is wealth, and stop such madness.

To Zosimus the presbyter. Many mock you very severely and vehemently, and are believed by all. But I will say most briefly and most fittingly that you ought, even late in life, to recognize that the pleasures of the body bring countless punishments.

To Ursenuphius the reader. [Second Kingdoms: on Absalom, and on the multitude that died in the wrath of the plague when David numbered his people.] Absalom was punished by divine justice for having pretended to be a good judge in order to overthrow his own father, and for having won over the subjects by this flattery. For he was courting rule, gathering bodyguards and raising a lofty tyranny. Those who flocked to him and all but built up the tyranny (for they looked to the one coming into power and the other going to his end) were made to pay the penalty, if not at once (for David would have been grieved, deprived of his subjects, or rather of his royal dignity), yet a little later. For the plague fed on them, not creeping or advancing little by little, but devouring the whole nation at once, young and old. For even if he gave another cause for such a slaughter, the root of the punishment grew from that offence, and not long after bore fruit, that is, came into action, when the king too had to pay the penalty for numbering the people against the divine will. For while they were destroyed, in fact for their own sin and in word for the king's, he too was placed in the greatest misfortune. For he wished either to die gloriously or to live ingloriously, deprived of his subjects. If anyone disbelieves, let him hear him saying, "Let your hand be against me and against my father's house." For it was not that some were punished for another, as you thought; each received what was fitting. They paid for the sin committed a little before, he for the immediate one; the impartial verdict found a suitable moment in which it would punish them and exact the penalty from him as well.

To Auxonius the corrector. You ought alone, or above all, to take care that, as far as lies with you, those who have fallen into misfortunes may be relieved,

To Maron and Eustathius. I learn that, displaying every excess of evil, you think the deed smaller than the will, and, daring the undareable, you think yourselves timid and unmanly because you cannot show all your will through your deeds. If, then, the report is true, stop such a purpose, so that you may not be thought avenging spirits or demons in human form.