Letters 4.204–4.221

To Isidore the deacon. [On "Unless your righteousness exceeds," and what follows.] When the first-formed man, from the very starting line, so to speak, of the divine commandment, disregarded it and preferred the deceit of the one who contrived to destroy him utterly, his body then became not only mortal but also subject to passion. Many defects sprouted, and the horse became heavy and hard to rein. Since, then, this inglorious inheritance, heavier than any loss, was passed down to all, and this detestable abundance was increased by the negligence of our will, Christ came here and made the body lighter for us through baptism, rousing it with the wing of the Spirit; and for this reason greater contests and prizes than those of the ancients were set before us. For he wants us to be pure not only of murder but also of anger; not only of adultery and sexual immorality, but also of the licentious look; not only of perjury, but also of swearing truly. He commands us to love our enemies along with our friends; in all other things too he has made the course longer; and he has threatened unquenchable fire to those who disobey, showing that these things are not left to the generosity of the competitors, as are poverty and virginity (for there he urged, "If you wish to be perfect," and "Let him who can receive it receive it"), but that he wants them accomplished in every case, for they are among the things that are necessary. That is why he said what you wished to learn: "Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees" (that is, unless you surpass those who were approved in the Old Testament, for I am not now speaking of those who will pay the penalty, as far as heaven differs from earth), "you will not enter the kingdom of heaven." For prizes rightly follow contests. They, living a moderate kind of life, received land and long life as their reward: "Honour your father and your mother, that it may be well with you, and that you may live long on the land which the Lord your God gives you." But for us who run the double course of the gospel, heaven and the good things in it are laid up.

To Olympius, presbyter and scholasticus. I would not deny, my friend, that I would have valued above many gifts and the greatest renown having succeeded in persuading them about what I wrote earlier. But I did not suppose that I would be thought blameworthy if some, hearing what is best, did not pay attention and deprived themselves of the benefit of my words; I simply expected that each person would either lay the blame on those who were not persuaded, or rebuke neither me nor them. But since you have gone so far as to blame me (having nothing else to say, and even extolling everything else, but thinking you have one strong point, that I was not able to persuade), I must write to you about this and not bring the charge on myself by silence. For it would be absurd for you to dare to write what is not fitting, while I hesitated to write back what is just. If you had said it but not written it, I would have kept quiet. But since you have put in writing what I have not kept silent about either, your wisdom gains the appearance of rightly blaming me. I would wish to put nothing bitter or contemptuous into my proofs; for I have not come to speak ill of others, but to show that I myself have not done wrong. If I am compelled by necessity itself to say anything of the kind, the blame must be reckoned to the nature of the facts, not to the intention of the writer. I shall begin from what you yourself wrote. If I wrote often, as I say, and as was fitting, and in the way that was fitting, to Eusebius and Martianus, Zosimus and Maron, urging them to depart from vice and lay hold of the life of virtue, and then I did not persuade them, whose is the accusation? You seem to me to blame me in word, but in fact to satirize them. A chorus that does not obey its leader is out of tune; one who does not obey his physician is wretched; but the leader and the physician dwell outside of blame. Of those who were most able in speech and won the greatest reputation for wisdom, there is no one who escaped this, not because of his own weakness, but because of the boundary set by free will, as I said. Was it, then, their fault, or because the hearers are masters of the outcome, through the boundary of free will? That is why the account of the judgment stands firm. And why speak of men, when one can take the first of the examples from the Saviour himself? When the Jews, and the one who bore their name, the ones refusing to believe and trying to kill him, the other attempting to betray him, the Word used such words with them (though they were not men, but more able by nature to bend the nature of stones), at one time restraining them by arguments of justice, at another checking their wickedness by the threat of punishments. What then? Did he persuade them? Not at all. Why? Because the hearers must be masters of being persuaded or not. If you had lived at that time, would you have gone to God the Word and accused him: "You did not save Judas"? Yet, though he spoke, he did not save him; but I think everyone would have indicted you for derangement and the utmost lack of education. For it belongs to the teacher to leave out nothing that leads to persuasion, and to the hearers to be persuaded or not. The present case differs in nothing from that, if I, who did not persuade, am to bear the blame for those who were not persuaded. If Greeks or Jews should object to this (for one must look round at objections with countless eyes and overturn them), to the former we shall say: "Why did Zeus, as Homer says, not save his dearest from dangers, but only gave counsel?" To the latter: "Why did God, who spoke in the Old Testament through Moses and the other prophets, not save them, but, when he was disobeyed, pursued them with punishments?" For when someone pays the penalty, he is punished and at the same time shows that he did not obey the lawgiver; or rather, the lawgiver himself foresaw that he would not persuade all to be good. For one who lays down laws about punishment plainly knows that he will not restrain the wicked. Whatever defence they make for this will be said also in the case of Judas. The proof ought to have stopped here; for every example that might be given after this is less than this one. What wonder is it that this happens to a man, when it touched the Word himself? But so as not to seem to have hunted for a fair-seeming excuse for ease, I shall not hold back from men either. Why, then, was Moses, who revealed sacred things, stoned; Isaiah, who beheld the seraphim, sawn in two; Jeremiah shut up in a pit of mire; Peter put to death, and Paul beheaded? Was it not because not all paid attention to their words and exhortations? And if you say they suffered this because they had no experience of rhetorical or syllogistic speech, I shall turn to those outside, who had the greatest reputation for speech, cleverness, and persuasion. Why did Plato, the treasure of the Greeks, lose even his freedom? Was it not because he could not persuade a single tyrant? Why did Pythagoras, who prided himself greatly on his wisdom, leap away from the company of Phalaris? Was it not because, even after so much teaching, that man was still a tyrant? Why did Socrates, who surpassed all the wise men of his time, die condemned to hemlock? Was it not because people do not bear those who correct them? And since you are perhaps inferior to Aristotle, hear what he says: "Neither will the orator persuade in every way, nor will the physician heal; but if he leaves out none of the possible means, we shall say that he has his science adequately." How was Pericles convicted, who used to overpower orators at ten feet and on whose lips, moreover, as the comic poet says, a kind of persuasion dwelt? He would not willingly have been fined if he had been able to persuade. How was Themistocles, celebrated for the power of his nature and for improvising what was needed, punished with exile? And how did Demosthenes, who showed the same things to be possible and again impossible (to pass over everything else, and to say nothing of his defeats and of the affair of Harpalus's money), not convict Meidias, who had done him so many wrongs? That he wanted to convict him, and so wrote the accusation with all his strength, is clear. Why then did he not convict him? Was it not because he thought his words weaker than the power of his enemies? For he did not sell the conviction for a price, as Aeschines said; the orator's greatness of soul does not admit the charge of base gain; nor would one who, after his victory, let his guardians off the paternal estate have taken money shamefully for an outrage to his own head. Rather, judging his enemies stronger than his speech, and reckoning that his art would make no showing against their violence, he set aside the calamity decently, thinking it better to seem to have given way through mildness than to be defeated by the verdict of the jurors. Yet to undergo this through fear is the same as giving Meidias up and being unable to convict him; or rather it makes the defeat more conspicuous. For the one would have meant that his speech did not prevail with the jurors; the other means that he had this reputation even in the judgment of the man who wrote it. If, then, such a speech did not give the orator hope of persuading, so that he did not expect to persuade, how is it not terrible, most clever friend, that each of those men should be judged by his intention, and the disobedience of some not be counted harm or disgrace to others, while in my case the matter is turned into something new and revolutionary? I have not written this out of a desire to enjoy praise; you know how I despise it. If I loved praise, I would have counted up those whom I did persuade to embrace virtue, who are many and well approved. I wrote it to show that, whether one persuades or not, it is the intention of the one who gives counsel that must be examined, and that he must not be judged by the outcome of affairs, of which he is not master.

To Theodosius the deacon. [On the saying, "Who does not know that the city of the Ephesians is temple-keeper of the great Artemis?"] Since you wished to learn the meaning of what is found in the Acts of the Apostles, "Who does not know that the city of the Ephesians is temple-keeper of the great Artemis and of the image fallen from heaven?", know that this is not the voice of Scripture but of the town clerk of the Ephesians; and I consider it superfluous to interpret charlatans' tales, about which I think the Psalmist too said, "The lawless told me idle tales, but not like your law, O Lord."

To the same. Since, being a lover of learning, you want to be learned in many things, I will tell you this too, so as not to seem to disappoint you. Those among the Greeks who made the wooden images, wishing to instil fear in those who saw them, used to say that the image had been sent, or had flown down, from heaven from Zeus, and was superior to every human hand. That is why they called it "fallen from Zeus" (diopetes) and a heavenly image (bretas); and bretas comes from "resembling a mortal" (brotos). But it was not so; rather, by exiling or killing the sculptors, so that no one could say that the image was made by hands, they let this rumour wander in people's ears; and it deceived the city of the Ephesians too. That is why their clerk said this to them. Some say that it was said of the statue of Artemis: "that is, of the great Artemis." That it is true that the sculptors were either killed or exiled is attested by what happened recently in Alexandria by Egypt. Ptolemy gathered craftsmen to make a statue of Artemis, and after the work he ordered a great pit to be dug, contrived a couch of leaves over it, hid the trick, and ordered them to dine. As they dined they fell into that chasm and died, paying a just penalty, it seems to me, for undertaking to fashion images to deceive those who would come upon them. Yet he did this because he wished to put the craftsmen out of the way, so that the so-called god might seem not made by hands; he even called it "undefiled by hands." But it did not go unnoticed. When the deed came to light, the city repaid those who had died in this way with laments every year.

To Heron the scholasticus. [On reading, against the Greeks. On the grace of the divinely inspired Scriptures and the benefit that comes from them.] Do not despise, my friend, the honey-sweet hearing of the divine Scriptures. For this is a stratagem of the devil, who does not let us see the treasure, so that we may not gain its wealth. He says that hearing the divine thoughts is nothing, so that he may not see action arising from the hearing.

To Theologius. [On "An eye for an eye," and what follows.] The lawgiver of both covenants is one; but the law forbade only actions to the Jews, who were hard to rein, while the Gospel, laying down doctrine as for philosophers, checks in advance the thoughts from which actions grow, as the springs of evil, not only punishing sins exactly once they have happened, but surely preventing them from happening. If you like, let us exercise ourselves on the words themselves; nothing is like hearing Scripture itself. "It was said," it says, "to those of old: An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you, do not resist the evil man." The one sets equality of suffering as the measure of justice, allowing the wronged to do as much as they suffered, and checks evil in advance by the fear of suffering the same; this interpretation reaches the deep mind of the lawgiver. The other, by the mildness of the one who suffers, stops the progress of wickedness toward worse. For since the retaliation of the wronged had been justly defined, and legislated so that nothing terrible would be done, it became an imitation of like deeds: each did what he complained of having suffered; and this was not an end of what went before, but a provocation of more grievous evils, as one was provoked again and acted, and the other strove to retaliate a second time, knowing no limit of evils and finding in retaliation not an end but a beginning pregnant with greater misfortunes. They fell into a truceless strife and forced the wisdom of the law, which was set to abolish faults, into a provision for wickedness. Since so many evils were being born, the Gospel quenched the beginning like a fire and stopped evil's rush forward.

To Nemesius. [On the saying, "Do not turn aside to the right or to the left." And that virtue is achieved by toil.] Since liberality is the mean between prodigality and stinginess, magnanimity between arrogance and abjectness, and piety between superstition and impiety, wise men, defining the vices as next-door neighbours to the virtues, gave the middle ground to the virtues; and to me too the middlemost road seems best for all the virtues. And this is what you wished to learn: "Do not turn aside to the right or to the left." Walk on the royal road. For since deviations from the virtues end in vice (for many who wished to be thrifty have fallen into stinginess, or, wishing to be generous, into prodigality), they rightly defined the middle as not only better but also most royal.

To Adamantius. [What is meant by the saying in the song of Habakkuk, "His virtue covered the heavens."] Since the mind cannot conceive what is beyond mind, nor speech express what is beyond speech (for the divine oracles affirm that this is so, saying, "The glory of the Lord hides speech," that is, the Master's glory is greater than and higher than all speech; and it did not say "the nature, from which the glory comes," but "the glory," which comes from the essence), let all human nature give way before the greatness of the matter; let it not pry into the essence, but worship the dignity; and let the whole host of angels, archangels, and powers above give way too. For it is to this that the saying you wished to learn looks: "His virtue covered the heavens." It shows that the account of the divine essence is greater than the whole multitude of angels and the holy orders.

To Varsenuphius. [On "Learn to do good."] Since many who urge the greatest things cannot bear to do even small ones, but, philosophizing in words, incur shame in their deeds, it was said, "Learn to do good." So whoever does not want to have reproaches and undergo punishment must have a life that agrees with his word.

To Thomas the monk. [Ezekiel. What is meant by the words, "They rejected my ordinances and did not walk in my laws."] Since you asked why God said through Ezekiel, "They rejected my ordinances and did not walk in my statutes," I shall use a brief interpretation. Not only, he says, were they found impious, but they were also shown to be wicked toward their neighbours. For the statutes are divided, by a general division, into these two, the service of God and love toward one's own kind; that is why two tablets were written. The multitude could err in the first through ignorance of what is better and through the deceit of those who wished to cheat them, since the divine is invisible and opinion about it much divided; so he added the second, which is plain to all. For there is no one who does not know that murder, adultery, greed, and their kindred are evil and deserve punishment. Since he was reproaching the Jewish people for impiety, then, lest they plead ignorance, or say that they deserved pardon as people led astray by some clever men in such matters, he convicts them of injustice toward their own kin and puts them outside all pardon, since they did not abstain even from what the common nature of mankind condemns, but went headlong into lawlessness. So through what was plainly transgressed he showed that what seemed unclear had also been transgressed wilfully and maliciously.

To Hermias. [On what is written in the Wisdom of Jesus: "Do not seek to become a judge."] Since it is neither easy to track down justice, nor, once it is caught, not to betray it (for some do not find it through sluggishness, while others hunt it down by sharpness of mind but betray it through servile passions, corrupting it through fear, cowardice, money, friendship, or enmity), the counsellor rightly advised, "Do not seek to become a judge."

To Thomas the monk. [On "Let your loins be girded."] Since you wish to learn the greatest and most divine things briefly, know that the Saviour said, "Let your lamps be burning," so that, practising virtue, we may have both the spoken word and the inner word always shining, in the soul and on the tongue. For the inner word gives light to us, the outer to others. But let the lamp of teaching be given life, watered, and nourished by the virtue of the Father, so that it may not be dark and without light.

To Ischyrion. [On the saying, "Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes," and that this does not contradict "Woe to you, scribes."] Since you perhaps thought that some contradiction lies in the holy Gospels, you wrote that the Saviour said to the Pharisees, as people destitute of virtue, "Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites," but to the apostles, "Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven." I write back that "exceeds" must be understood as said of the righteousness which they would be expected, or rather ought, to have had. For it is not those who exceed people who are pitied and lamented that would deserve to reign, but those who far surpass the approved under the law and have lived a way of life that befits heaven.

To Peter. [On "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up."] Since you thought that some contradiction had been written in the Gospel, and asked why it called false witness the report of what he said about the destruction and raising of the temple (for it is written, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up"), I say that they were speaking of the sanctuary, but he of his body. If you say this is implausible, since they never knew it, nor did his disciples until he rose from the dead, I would say that, even if they did not know it, not even so did they testify truly. For he promised to do one of the two things, not both. Destroying fitted them, raising fitted himself: "You destroy, and I will raise." For destroying belonged to anyone, but raising to God.

To Valentinus the presbyter. [On "Do not be anxious how or what you will speak," and on "Always ready to give a defence."] Since you said you wondered how the Saviour said, "Do not be anxious how or what you will speak," while one of the apostolic choir exhorted, "Always ready to give a defence," know that there is no contradiction: the one is said of martyrdom, the other of teaching. When one is in a gathering of friends, we too are commanded to take care; for it is absurd not to know what we profess to teach. But when there is a fearful court, crowds and raging executioners, and fear on every side, he promised to give his own help. For it was a very great thing that men who differed little from fish in their speechlessness, with tyrants seated, governors and generals standing by, swords drawn, and all those things allied against them, should come in bound and bowed to the ground and be able to break into speech. So rightly the one enjoy the help of God, while the others are taught not to give themselves up to the sleep of ignorance; for the disciples of wisdom ought to be wise.

To Palladius the deacon. [On "If anyone aspires to the office of bishop."] You have not looked into the Apostle's meaning, which is hidden in the letter, but, seeing only the letter itself, you keep repeating up and down, "If anyone aspires to the office of bishop, he desires a good work," as though one ought to aspire to such a sacred rule. I have the means to show that the Apostle did not say it as you claim; still, granting it, I shall overturn your view. Suppose he did say something of the kind: why do you, who are ignorant of your own affairs and unable to rule even yourself, love such a rule, which is not only higher than kingship but also more laborious? Do you think it an authority that gives no account, and not a ministry that must render account? Even if you go beyond all madness, I would be mad myself if I were seen not trying to heal your affliction. For to me, blessed friend, even the "if anyone" is fearful and shakes my very soul from its foundations; for it shows the greatness of the office. If you ask how, I would say that he did not dare to command it, nor to urge it, nor to advise it; for he did not say, "Let everyone aspire to the office of bishop; he does well." Then perhaps some would have approved your love for the thing. But he left the desire for the priesthood hanging in the middle: he neither urges people toward it, lest he rouse the unworthy to an impossible task that exceeds every way of life and every dignity, nor holds them back from it, lest he make what is greater than any kingship something to be fled. Leaving the exhortation in suspense and making each the judge of his own mind, he himself commands neither desiring nor fleeing, all but crying out with his eyes, his brows, and his whole face, and implanting goads of fear in his hearers: "I do not hand over to human desires a matter that depends on the divine vote and ordination; but I exhort and solemnly testify that whoever desires this should know that he loves no ordinary thing. For the name of the episcopate signifies ministry, not ease." If you do not believe it, read what follows and you will know my meaning. For the bishop must abound in all the virtues and make the misfortunes of others his own. He lives not for himself but for those he rules, and his life is examined by countless eyes and tongues.

To Isidore the bishop. Since you have written asking why Paul did not say simply, "Live at peace with all men," but added, "If possible," I write back: because there are cases where it is not possible, when the matter is piety, or a just cause, or chastity, or, in short, any of the virtues. How will the pious man be at peace with the impious, the just with the unjust, or the chaste with the lustful, who often wants to corrupt not only other people's bloom but his own as well? If you think these are mere reasonings, look at Paul himself, whether he was at peace with everyone. And if you want to take the argument higher, look at Christ, whether he made peace with everyone. The rulers of the Jews were driven to such madness that they even nailed him to a cross. What, then, does "If possible" mean? "For your part," he says, "give no one a handle for enmity, and do not have an enemy with just cause and reason. If they are hostile without reason, smouldering with envy, this will not harm you." For not even Christ, who said, "They hated me without cause," commanded us not to have enemies (for that is not in our power), but not to do wrong, and not to sow a root of war, especially when piety suffers no harm. If the wicked hate the good, do not wonder. False apostles hated the apostles, and false prophets the prophets. Paul himself knew this clearly when he wrote, "Pursue peace with all who call on the Lord from a pure heart." So do not blame the one who has enemies, but the one who makes enemies for himself. If darkness does not agree with light (for that is not even possible), it is not the light's fault; if the impious man does not wish to embrace piety, it is not the pious man's fault; if the lustful man does not wish to practise chastity, it is not the chaste man's fault; if the unjust man does not wish to give up his injustice, it is not the just man's fault; the fault is theirs, who regard the virtues of their neighbours as a reproof of their own vice.

To Alypius the scholasticus. [On reading, against the Greeks; on the grace of the divinely inspired Scriptures and the benefit that comes from them.] Since, as you said, springs of words that lie idle wither a soul that wishes to be watered, I urge you, most eloquent friend, to open up above all those springs which abound in rich and everflowing streams and do not need to be watered from elsewhere. [Letter 4.222] [On "I am the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob," and on "I will defend this city to save it, for the sake of David."] Virtue, blessed friend, is a divine thing, dear to God, blessed, immortal, and not overcome by forgetfulness. It is celebrated among men and ever remembered by God, who says at one time, "I am the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob," and at another, "I will defend this city to save it, for the sake of David my servant." To such a degree of God's care and honour do those come for whom virtue is precious, even after they have died. If he proclaims them so here, with what gifts will he not repay them there?