Letters 3.36–3.74

To Chaeremon, Zosimus, Maron and Eustathius. Even if you do what you do because you do not expect judgment, you ought at least to know this: that vice, even without any further punishment, is punishment, and virtue, even without crowns, is a crown. Indeed, from those who are punished even here, the account of the coming judgment is trustworthy and true and acknowledged by all. But if vice has so driven you into frenzy and madness as to remove this from your thinking, still (to pass over the fact that many have paid the penalty even here) do not think it a small punishment to be mocked and hated by all here, nor a small crown to finish life here with decency and dignity and praise. [Letter 3.37] It seems to me most absurd to make much of the points on which the wise outside and the holy Scriptures differ, and little of those on which they agree. For the account of the judgment, though it is reasonable and just and befits rational beings, and is acknowledged both by us and by them, draws only a few to do what they ought. For most people (and let no one think I say this in anger) do what they do as though there were no judgment and no providence presiding and watching what is done, as on a moonless night. But the disputed doctrine, though unpersuasive, captivates most. For they neglect a strict way of life but sharpen their tongues beyond what is fitting; they have no concern for chastity, but babble about unbegotten matter and other things which neither contribute much to salvation when known nor harm the uneducated when unknown. Let them learn, then, first to raise the account of the judgment which both we and they acknowledge, and to hold to an upright life. For it is most absurd to be silent on the points where they agree and to harp up and down on those where they differ. [Letter 3.38] To Serenus. In common and incurable evils pity has no portion. For all, lamenting their own sufferings, have no leisure to pity their neighbours.

To Chaeremon the deacon. I say that the polluted man ought not to open his mouth about doctrines, nor indeed about anything else, until he has been cleansed by sincere repentance. For if God said to the sinner, "Why do you recount my statutes?", much more did he silence the man so disposed who dares to search into doctrines. For doctrines are as far above statutes as heaven is above earth and soul above body. Stop, then, being defeated in your life while contending about doctrines, lest you bring defeat on the doctrine too. For many are accustomed to vote on what is said according to the reputation of those who say it.

To Theodore the scholasticus. Your brother, admirable friend, is admired for his character, and you for your eloquence; he for rightness of judgment, you for skill of tongue; he for moderation of manners, you for weight of diction; he as one laden with fruit, you as one luxuriant with leaves. If this is so, emulate your brother, so that you may be esteemed on both counts. For he does not need your advantages as much as you need his.

To the same. Some who admire you for sharpness of mind and skill of tongue charge you with being quarrelsome, unapproachable and difficult. For whereas you ought to condescend to those beneath you, you do not even give way to those above you. If, then, this is so, do not outrage an excellent education by perversity of disposition; but mix kindness with your natural gifts and gentleness of manners with skill of speech, so that you may be celebrated on both sides.

To the same. I would define as wise in speech the man who can set out his thought clearly, not the one who with oversubtle and lofty words overshadows even what is clear. The one brings what was hidden to light; the other hides even what is plain to all in darkness. So the one, since he seeks the benefit of his hearers, is much praised; the other, since he reaches for his own glory, goes without honour. [Letter 3.43] To Paul. It is no wonder that those inflamed by envy do not become better even through kindnesses. Rather they are provoked by favours, since they know that they have needed goodness.

To Serapion the bishop. Since the proofs of hidden matters have two starting points (every proof and belief begins either from sense perception or from clear understanding), I too must use one of these or both to put to sleep your anger, which, as you wrote, is boiling from the depth of your heart. But since judgments made by reasoning are not equally easy or simple for everyone (for one who wants to hunt out something unclear must be intelligent and trained from early youth in studies that sharpen the reason), it is better to begin from experience and from what happened to the Master, Christ. For both the unlearned and the very intelligent can follow these. Why, then, are you indignant that Eusebius, the supposed bishop, is, as you wrote, drunk against the whole church and directs his drunken insolence not only against everyone but even against you, who have often been his benefactor? Be patient, my friend. Setting aside proof from reasonings and syllogisms, I would make my proof from the Lord's sufferings. Indeed, what was done to him by the accursed Jews was unbearable and beyond all pardon; but let it be granted that it was bearable. What would you say of the avenging spirit Judas, who was counted in that divine company and in the circle about the King, who received authority over demons and diseases and death, and who from inglorious and obscure became so brilliant and renowned? Did he not betray the one who had been the cause of so many goods to him? For that untamed beast (for so it is right to call those who do not become better even by kindnesses), sated with the Saviour's forbearance, turned that surfeit against him. Try, then, to soothe and tame the fire of your anger with these charms; for it yields to those who sing them over it.

To Orion the monk. Who would miss the truth in calling you a most straight rule of friendship? For you are simple in tongue, simpler in purpose, simplest in life. [Letter 3.46] [Why the law ordered lepers, or others suffering involuntary diseases, to be outside the sacred precincts.] Punishing the incontinence of parents, most wise friend (for many have intercourse with their wives when they are no longer being purified, thinking that woman was formed for pleasure alone and not for the begetting of children), the lawgiver barred from the sacred precincts those born of impure intercourse, so that, if not willingly, at least unwillingly, the parents might be chaste and compel themselves to live decently, since the punishment would pass to those to be born of them. For what could be more painful to parents than to see the children whom they pray to see more esteemed and brilliant than themselves sharing neither in public nor in sacred assemblies? This penalty, then, he imposed on them as necessary and immediate, so that by fear of punishment they might punish their licentiousness; for bodies formed from impure blood are easily caught by such diseases. And many have paid another penalty even here, some openly, some secretly, and there they will certainly pay it. For he who did not spare dishonour to those born of them because of their parents' incontinence will not leave unpunished those who themselves sinned.

To the same. If those who keep company with Eusebius must fall into one of two things, either being hated or sharing in his incontinence (since he drives away the chaste and loves those who know how to behave shamefully), I would advise you to flee the company of these men, lest you catch something of the pestilential disease. [Letter 3.48] I do not approve, you self-carved statue of modesty, of the man who appears very humble while a private person but, when in office, fancies himself greater than human nature. For I consider this to belong truly to an ignoble, unmanly and petty soul. Rather, while a private person, let him be lofty, and when declared a ruler, gentle and moderate, and so escape the diseases that lie in wait on each state: in the one, abjectness; in the other, arrogance.

To Palladius. When you have kept away from vice, then you may rightly consider virtue. For if you rub that off, then it will be possible to consider how you may lay hold of virtue. But before the beginning and the foundation have been rightly laid, I think it superfluous to discuss the end and the finishing touch.

To Theodore the Augustalis. Even if someone were a king, had wealth flowing round him, were full of good cheer, possessed invincible power, and were praised and called blessed by all, as one abounding in all that seems good, he ought to consider what was a little before and what will be a little after, and not be lifted up to insolence. But if all these cannot come together (for good cheer does not always go with wealth, since wars sometimes spoil one's ease; nor, even if delight and wealth concur, will security be added, when one of those in office is plotting tyranny; for mostly either plots grow up within or wars are fanned from without), for what reason do we proceed to arrogance on the strength of one of the apparent goods and think ourselves above everyone? [Letter 3.51] The verse "How shall we sing the song of the Lord in a foreign land?" seems to me to have a twofold interpretation. First, because it was not permitted to keep the Passover or the other feasts outside Jerusalem; which is why some were accused of having celebrated them outside the law. Next, because their freedom of speech had been quenched by the captivity, they said: "How can we recount the wonders done in Egypt, in the desert and in Palestine, those against the Ethiopians and against the Assyrian, when a hundred and eighty-five thousand were destroyed without war or battle, when we are disbelieved because of the captivity in which we now live as prisoners?" For since events had taken away the boldness of their words (for they were reproached as boasting in vain of God's benefits, being refuted by the facts), they all but said what the three young men in the furnace said: "We cannot open our mouth"; that is, we cannot speak boldly of our ancient glories; "shame and reproach have come upon your servants." For the disaster quenched our boldness. So when we are reproached we remain speechless. For we shall not be believed if we sing of trophies while we are humbled and in slavery.

To Isaiah the soldier. Do not, because your affairs are going with the current, proceed to arrogance as though you will suffer nothing terrible; but considering that affairs tend to change into their opposite, keep your pride in measure, and do not go beyond the bounds of humanity. For Justice watches what is done, and those who thought they would be above punishment she has brought to punishment through the very means by which they thought to escape.

To Lampetius the bishop. [To the Ephesians: what is meant by "having abolished the law of commandments in decrees."] The superiority of the Gospel to the law is great. For the law confines love of humankind to fellow tribesmen alone, but the Gospel extends it to foreigners also. The one commands to love friends; the other urges to love even enemies. The former legislates as for children; the latter sets out sublime decrees as for philosophers. And this is what you wished to learn: "having abolished the law of commandments in decrees." He abolished it not by overturning it, but by including it in a greater philosophy. For in not looking licentiously, not committing adultery is above all included; and in not being angry, not murdering is included.

To Zosimus the presbyter. If you do not sing a recantation even now that you have come to deep old age, when will you repent? Respect at least the name of old age (geras), which is said to come from "loving the earth" (ges eran). Since, then, your body will soon be dissolved into earth, and your soul at the resurrection will undergo with it the bitterest punishments (for Justice thirsts for the punishment of those who have despised her), acknowledge defeat. For even if you do not have time enough to heal so many wounds, still this will procure you no small comfort amid those terrors. [Letter 3.55] I think that you were not deceived, but that you wished of your own accord to play the sophist with the truth. But if you were really deceived and missed the truth, now that you have learned, sing a recantation. For your brother, giving a reasonable cause and not alleging a pretext, acknowledged defeat.

To the children of Dorotheus. Even if your opponent at law rushed upon you, meaning to take you by assault and subdue you, but was caught, missed the victory, and has taken on the posture of a suppliant, you should respect the law concerning suppliants, so that your victory may be more secure and your fame celebrated.

To Isidore the scholasticus. True brevity with clarity is not the omission of proofs, but the refusal of whatever contributes nothing to the subject in hand. For just as one should not put in what is outside the subject as superfluous, so it is necessary to omit nothing that serves to establish it. Do not, then, if a contentious and demonstrative argument comes your way, blame its length; but consider this, that it was not possible to make the question clear otherwise than by using a long circuit. If the task is to declare, let the speech be brief; if to prove, it must be extended in length, but must avoid all excess and repetition.

To Apollonius the bishop. [To the Hebrews: an interpretation of "who, being the radiance of his glory and the imprint of his hypostasis."] If the one who describes the divine generation were to follow human passions in everything (which it is not even right to say), he would deserve to hear: "If you imagine passion in the begetting, I may do so in the creating. For if I follow human weakness, I do not know of anything being created without passion." But if, in a manner more worthy of God, he accepts what is fitting and rides past what is discordant, he ought to understand that, since the mortal begets with passion, the immortal begets without passion, just as in creating, the one creates with toil and the other without labour. The divine Paul, understanding this and as if inspired, swimming above all earthly examples, defined the Son as "the radiance of the glory" and "the imprint of the hypostasis" of the Father, showing by the first example that he is co-eternal and by the second that he subsists in himself.

To Zosimus the presbyter. With what eyes will you still look at your friends, if indeed you have friends, after plotting against a man who was your benefactor and friend? He, as I learned, kept company with you without fear, thinking he had an indisputable pledge against suffering anything from a plot in the greatness of his goodwill and his kindness. But you have surpassed the very beasts in savagery and cruelty (for there are some among them that know gratitude to their benefactors), and you even pride yourself on the evil. When, then, will you stop sinking your own soul, laying on it the necessity of being borne continually downward?

To Eutonius the deacon. The one who throws away the right moment for action will fall short in the hunt for good things. For who would approve of a farmer who, when he could plough and sow so as to have a field of fine ears, is idle and lounges out of doors? Who would approve of a vine-dresser who, when he could tend the vine so as to have it rich in clusters and the wine-press drunk, waits to live on the labours of others? Who would approve of a sailor who, when he should sail in season to increase his trade, stays in harbour and wallows in taverns? No one, surely. If, then, this is so, who would approve of a Christian seeking crowns in the season of contests? For the things here are the occasion for contests and crowns, the things there for rewards and honours. Let us not, then, betray the right moment, lest there we repent to no purpose.

To Maron, Palladius, Zosimus and Eustathius. Many among the Greeks who laid claim to glory alone, perhaps expecting nothing after their departure from here, or rather condemning vice and thinking the affairs of this life nothing, practised virtue, became renowned, and are in everyone's mouth. But I am greatly astonished why you are moved to depart from vice neither for the sake of glory, nor of judgment, nor of reputation, nor of reward, nor of any other of the things that compel even the utterly callous to do some good.

To Athanasius the presbyter. I sing what is called a recantation. For I missed the mark, or, to put it more truly, my judgment, not finding you such as I tried to praise you for being. But this is not my fault; the charge belongs to your change, which has inclined to the worse. For since I both believe those who praise and applaud those who are praised (for I have a certain leaning toward the good), I believed those who praised you. For I wish everyone to be esteemed. But you, by changing, have refuted yourself, not me. Yet if I despaired, I would not be writing this. But since I expect an excellent change, I both write and urge you to bring yourself back to your former virtue.

To Theopompus. [On the Arians and Eunomians.] Nothing is so proper to the divine nature as eternity. The one, then, who says that the Son is later than the Father, from whom he shone forth without beginning, does away, as far as in him lies, with the very thing that characterizes the pure essence. For it is above both number and time; it does not admit "before" and "after," nor does it accept "first" and "second"; for it is inaccessible to these names, by which created things are characterized, as to all others.

To Paul. I have learned that you, acting wisely, willingly gave him the chance to remain unnoticed. But the excellent Chaeremon, deposed by Ammonius and somehow ordained by Eusebius, thinking he had not been found out, did not blush, but even repaid your philosophy with nonsense. Do not, then, be vexed if a man who cares neither for virtue nor has the fear of God in his breast has armed his tongue against your gentleness; rather expect a crown for this too.

To Nilus the deacon. Truth adorns all arts and sciences; if it is absent, they have no grace of order. For the philosophy of the Greeks, which professes to seek the truth, has fallen away from it. Rhetoric cares only for skill and elegance. Grammar boasts that it teaches experience of words. If, then, these are adorned with the truth, they ought to be desired by the sensible; but if they are armed against it, they deserve to be dishonoured.

To the same. [How "If your eye or your hand causes you to stumble" is to be understood.] The Gospel oracle is not unreasonable but full of mind and reasoning. For while mastering desire is great, and both seems and is so, it is greater to take forethought that one may not be caught by the disease. To establish this very point Christ said, "Everyone who looks at a woman to desire her has already committed adultery with her in his heart," not declaring an adulterer the man who saw in passing and suddenly, was wounded, drew out the arrow and treated the wound. For he did not say, "the one who saw," but "the one who looks": the one who has drawn the passion to himself by premeditation, nurses it in himself, continually visits the woman he saw, busies himself with another's beauty, and through continual gazing in a way enjoys the pleasure. You, then, managing your own affairs securely, rightly shudder at the oracle and ask that it be explained to you, and you disbelieve those who have come to such insensibility as to say that looking does the onlooker no harm. I approve of you for caring for your own salvation. Of them I say that safety is better than dangerous ambition, and that to rank the divine oracles above one's own reasonings is both pious and most just. And if anyone is not persuaded, let him listen at least to the writer of proverbs, who said before the Gospel oracle: "Do not fix your eye on her, but leap away, do not linger in the place"; and to the all-virtuous writer, who says at one point, "By the beauty of a woman many have been led astray," and at another, "Do not study another's beauty." He did not say, "Do not see" (for that happens of itself), but "Do not study," doing away with deliberate contemplation, curious looking, gazing with desire. "For from this," he says, "affection is kindled like fire"; that is, shameful love is born from it. And even to those outside, who did not care much for this strictness, this seemed both reasonable and true. And Socrates (for I will cite their examples too, since they train for chastity), seeing someone kiss a handsome youth, said, "This man would easily turn somersaults onto swords and leap into fire," meaning the one who dared to kindle such a blaze in himself by the kiss. Diogenes, seeing a young man adorned more wantonly than befits a man, said, "If it is for men, you are unfortunate; if for women, you do wrong." For by adornment men hunt women, and women and effeminate men hunt men. Agesilaus prevented a handsome boy whom he loved from kissing him. Alexander would not even bear to see the wife of Darius, thinking it shameful, having conquered men, to be defeated by a woman. And if one must use not only Greek but also barbarian examples, I will not refuse to do this either. Cyrus, king of the Persians, did not dare even to see Panthea, who had been set apart for him and was attested to have extraordinary beauty; and he advised the man who looked at her continually and said he suffered nothing terrible not to look at her continually. "For fire," he said, "burns those who are near, but beauty burns even those who stand far off." And he did not lie. For the man who said he was stronger than pleasure was caught. And since he could not persuade her (for she was chaste), he threatened to use force on her, until she informed Cyrus. Cyrus, recognizing that, shut up with an invincible beast, he had suffered what he suffered, made it known to the man who had boasted that he was harmed in nothing by looking: "If you persuade the woman, well and good; but if you use force, I do not allow it." If, then, the Gospel oracle, the writer of Proverbs, the composer of Wisdom, and the Greek and Persian examples agree on this, one must guard with all one's strength, bridle the eyes, and refrain from curious and licentious gazing, since it strikes at the vital parts. For the greatest evil flows into the soul from it: seizing its vital parts first and driving out reason, it makes the whole soul belong to the passion.

To Zosimus the presbyter. Learning that, when you ought to run to repentance and ought to ask pardon for your offences, you are contending to add to your former deeds, stripping for new defilements, and always striving to hide the earlier by the later, I wept and said to myself: "Isidore, why do you labour in vain, sowing on rocks? Why do you hasten to help one who does not want to be helped? Why do you toil and stay awake, when the one for whose sake you stay awake makes it vain by not doing what is written? Stop labouring in vain, washing an Ethiopian white, carding wool into the fire, and boiling a stone." But when I had had my fill of blaming myself, good hope sprang up again, and it forced me, even unwilling, to write these letters once more. Consider, then, to what point of evil you have come, and be eager to run back to repentance.

To Theognostus the presbyter. I greatly wonder how those who do not restrain their conceit, and the self-esteem at having been thought worthy of precedence over the many, think more highly of themselves than is just, and no longer think fit even to yield, considering defeat by justice an outrage. [Letter 3.69] To Nilus. Since the height of humility is great, and the fall of arrogance great, I advise you to embrace the one and not fall into the other.

To Ophelius the grammarian. Not only do the shores roar, as Homer said and you wrote, when the sea belches out its foam; but land and sea alike cry out against the lawless deeds newly devised by Zosimus. For he has been carried to such insensibility, they say, as to consider the divine oracles mountebanks' tales, to regard those who urge him to his duty as triflers, and to revel insolently against every age and rank alike. Who, then, will not weep? Who will not lament, not only him, but also the one who dared to entrust the holy priesthood to him? For it is terrible that one of the common and obscure should be defiled by so many evils; but that one who has forced his way into the priesthood should be, is most terrible of all. We know this, then; hearing it continually, we lament; and we have not ceased admonishing him, nor shall we cease as long as we breathe. Do not try to teach us, as though we had not heard, what can be given neither to forgetfulness nor to silence. For some call to him as one half-dead, and others lament him as dead; but neither these nor those achieve anything; they only incur his laughter.

To Nilammon, deacon and physician. That God loves humankind I know very well. But that he also exacts the severest penalties from those who have despised his love for humankind, both the holy Scriptures proclaim and the facts bear witness. For who brought the flood? Who burned the land of Sodom with its inhabitants? Who visited Jerusalem? Who took the Jews captive and drove them round every part of the earth like runaways and whipped slaves? Let us not, then, sin trusting in his love for humankind alone; but, considering his justice too, let us acknowledge our faults, so that there too he may appear to us loving. For repentance of the will prepares for the Judge a reasonable way to show his love for humankind.

To Heraclius the bishop. Those who rule willing subjects seem to me truly to rule, especially when those ruled are conspicuous for virtue, on whose account ruling is something to be contended for. But those who think they rule the unwilling seem to me to resemble men undergoing punishment rather than exercising rule. [Letter 3.73] To Palladius. [That faith without works does not save a person.] You are in danger (what fitting name shall I call you?) of not knowing what is plain even to small children. Do not think that faith (if indeed one should call faith what your works refute) will be able to save you. For the faith that justified at the beginning demands deeds fitting to itself, without which it is impossible to be saved. For the one who has been received by grace ought to adorn himself also with virtues of his own, if he is not to be convicted of ingratitude as well.

To Theodosius the bishop. The definition of rule, you most exact touchstone of the science of ruling, is this: the one who does everything for the advantage of his subjects. For the one who has changed the good order of rule into tyranny and disorder, procuring labours for those he rules and hunting pleasures for himself, describes by his deeds not the definition of rule but that of tyranny.