Letters 4.30–4.57

To Dometius the count. [On the same.] The very thing you think, my good friend, to be proof that the preaching is not divine shows it to be divine and supernatural. To pass over Plato, as beyond your hearing, who said that eloquence is unworthy of philosophers and that ambition for it belongs to boys at play (in the passage where he introduced his teacher saying, "For it would surely not befit me, gentlemen, at this age, to come before you fashioning speeches like a youth"), I shall bring forward as witness Homer, whom you have always on your tongue, who says: "I am self-taught; and a god planted in my mind all kinds of paths of song" (that is, granted voices). If, then, the poet whom you deify stands surety, or rather is truly a hostage for what we now say, and declared that those who proclaim divine things ought to be neither pupils of mortal men nor experienced in such learning, why do you disbelieve that the message of the divine preaching was proclaimed through unlettered and unlearned men taught by an ineffable wisdom? But, I think, you will disbelieve no longer; for what you thought a deficiency you have found to be an advantage.

To Asclepius the sophist. [A rejoinder worth hearing against a Greek, on the resurrection of the Saviour.] I remember once silencing, in a few words, a clever Greek who was disputing with me and who had a very great reputation among many for power of speech. When he brought up the sufferings and the cross and poured out broad laughter, I answered him gently, "From where can you show that he was crucified?" All the hearers were astonished and wondered what I meant to establish by saying this; and he answered, as one about to carry off the victory without effort, "It is written in the Gospels." At once I retorted: "Then it is also written in them that he rose and went up into the heavens. If, then, you believe the Gospels, believe them when they say both the one and the other. If not, you act most absurdly, admitting the one and throwing out the other. Surely you do not keep your ears wide open and very sharp for insults, but blocked against the splendid and divine things? Especially since your so-called gods were defeated by the one who was crucified. If, then, he was crucified, it is clear that he also went up into the heavens. But if you strike out the splendid things, do not bring forward the shameful ones either; for the one depends on the other and does not allow itself to be separated." When this was said, such applause broke out that both he and I blushed: I, because the praise was beyond my worth; he, because he was bound by his own words. Having reported this, I think I have answered clearly what your intelligence sent me.

To Dorotheus, most illustrious. [On the glory of the precious cross.] It is right to call the celebrated cross the support and the splendour not only of earth but also of heaven. For it upheld the whole creation, bestowing joy on those above the world and freedom on those on earth, and joining together what had been separated.

To Theodore the scholasticus. [On the way of life.] If you were willing to read the holy Scriptures with good sense and attention, you would be moved not only to love of the divine philosophy, but also to desire for its very teachings, from which the way of life that befits heaven takes its foundation.

To Paul. [On the same.] Just as it is not the cloak and the staff that show the philosopher, but his frankness and his way of life, so it is not dress and words that show the Christian, but a character and a life that match right reason.

To Heron the scholasticus. [On bestiality, which the lawgiver mentioned; and on "Depart from me, all you who work lawlessness."] Just as the fabled union of different kinds produced monstrous bodies, a Minotaur and centaurs (the one feasted on Attic children, the others carried off other men's wives), so the company of the worst men produces monstrous and absurd characters, which all but imitate the outrages of the centaurs. That is why the Psalmist drove such men as far away as possible, saying, "Depart from me, all you who work lawlessness." For the harm their company produces is not small: it reaches the very soul, than which nothing is more precious. If, then, as some say, the myths were actual deeds (which is why the lawgiver decreed what you wished to learn about, forbidding intercourse with animals and punishing with death those who have it, so that monstrous bodies should not be born and tragedies sprout), let the lawgiver's foresight be admired. But if, as others say (and I am rather persuaded of it myself), the myths signify the mixing of various characters (for nothing, they say, of what happened from the beginning has been allowed to be lost), even so let people guard against the company of the wicked. That it does the greatest harm is shown by the saying, "Bad company corrupts good morals," and it is shown also by Amnon, the eldest son of the Psalmist, and Absalom, his younger son, who lived shamefully and ended their lives pitiably. The one fell in love with his sister by the same father, and, ashamed to couple his own nature with itself, he shared his passion with one of his supposed friends. That man not only did not quench the passion or turn him away from the abomination, nor say, "Do not bring new tragedies into life," but even invented a way for him to commit the abomination. When he had committed it, he paid the ultimate penalty: the brother of the outraged sister by the same mother pursued the outrager and had him slaughtered by his servants. So Amnon ended his life shamefully and pitiably. And the one who exacted the penalty from him, whether from lust for tyranny or from a grudge against his father (because his father had not only failed to avenge his daughter's outrage but had turned away from the avenger, and even when entreated would not receive him into his presence, until later the general's cleverness arranged it), rose up against his father, and was persuaded by the one who counselled him badly both to overturn the ordinances of nature and to outrage the laws of intercourse. So great an evil is the company of the worst men. But neither he nor his counsellor escaped the inescapable justice; they paid the penalty. So that we may neither do nor suffer anything like this, let us flee the company of the accursed.

To Peter the monk. [On "If possible, so far as it depends on you, living at peace with all men."] There is, wise friend, both a holy war and a peace more grievous than any truceless battle, as in the words, "I was jealous of the lawless, seeing the peace of sinners." For robbers make treaties with one another, arming themselves against those who do no wrong; wolves herd together when they thirst for blood; the adulterer is at peace with the woman with whom he commits adultery, and the sexually immoral man with the woman with whom he commits sexual immorality. So do not think that peace is everywhere a good thing; for it is often harsher than any war. When someone is at peace with those who bark against providence, and makes treaties with those who, useless in their own lives, lie in wait for the common life and ruin it, he has pitched his tent somewhere far away from the bounds of peace. That is why Paul said, "If possible, so far as it depends on you, living at peace with all men"; for he knew clearly that there are cases where it is not possible.

To Eutonius the deacon. [Similar.] One should not be at war with those who refuse peace, but rather, so far as our part goes, be at peace even with those who refuse it, provided piety suffers no harm. And this is what the divine Paul urged, saying, "If possible, so far as it depends on you, living at peace with all men." Since he knew exactly the nature of things, and knew that many do not decline to be always at war with lovers of virtue, he required what falls to us, in case, while we do everything, others should declare an undeclared war, either campaigning against piety or opposing virtue.

To Peter. [On what is written: "Do everything with counsel."] Those who are led more by anger come, for the most part, to a grievous end; but those who are led by understanding, and treat their bodies as its instruments, do not miss the glory that belongs to the noblest deeds. And this is what the author of Proverbs said: "Do everything with counsel"; for thoughtlessness is perilous.

To Nemesius. [On the same.] One who wishes to reap pure cheerfulness must first deliberate, and only so come to speaking and acting. For since what has been said or done cannot easily be called back, one who obeys the author of Proverbs when he says, "Do everything with counsel," and does not wish to scourge himself night and day with regret, must show the exhortation in his deeds.

To Isidore the bishop. [On the three books of Solomon: Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs.] Since you wished to learn about the order of the three books of Solomon, know that the first teaches moral virtue; the second shows the vain toil of those excited about worldly things; and the third, the love for divine things of the soul that has been trained in these. That is why one is placed first, the next second, and the last third. One who has set his moral life right by becoming a disciple of the author of Proverbs, and has trampled on the illusion of worldly life by attending the Preacher's school, would not, on coming to the Song of Songs, slip into carnal and human love, but would be given wings toward the undefiled and divine Bridegroom, who pronounces blessed those who are wounded by love. I advise the young, therefore, not to touch the third writing until they have achieved what is in the other two. For it is absurd, or rather reckless and against the mystic ordinances, for those not worthy even of the porch to leap into the inner sanctuary. In the temple the outer parts were open to all; the sacred parts within, enclosed by the cordon, though they could be entered, were closed to the many who were unholy and profane; and the parts within that were holier than the holy, the Holy of Holies, not even those of blameless life were permitted to enter, but only the high priest, who had of course consecrated himself and shaken off every mortal stain. So too the young must be disposed toward these books: first, to be made bright by moral virtue; then, to condemn the nothingness of worldly things; and so to touch what is out of reach for the many. For those who ought to stay outside the vessels of purification, if they insist on rushing in recklessly without being initiated into the divine rite, will pay the ultimate penalty. [Letter 4.41] [On not doing almsgiving before men.] I wonder at your folly, which was only to be expected. For I do not think you have reached such senselessness as to think that those who show mercy but make a display of it are worse than those who show no mercy at all. I will say what my opinion is about this. The merciful man in the proper sense is the one who does good without parading the misfortunes of those who receive it. If someone does it for the sake of the good itself, he has a greater reward than one who does it for a reward; if for the divine reward, he will be placed in the second rank; and if he does it for praise, he will have that for which he did it. But one who does not do what he ought, either for the sake of the good itself, or for the divine reward, or for human praise, seems to me not even a man, but an accursed demon. Why then, when you have heard the divine oracles commanding us not to do our almsgiving before men, do you, who cannot bear to do any good even for vainglory, accuse those who do it from love of honour? As much as one who practises chastity for the sake of human glory is better than one who is not chaste even for that, so much is one who does good from love of glory better than one who does no good at all. For the one respected men; the other respected neither men nor God.

To Mark. [Why the Apostle ranked the drunkard and the reviler with those who have committed the greatest sins.] You said you wondered how the Apostle could rank the drunkard and the reviler with adulterers and those who have prostituted themselves. I say, then, that if he had said that they will pay the same penalty as those, one would have to look for a solution. But if he said that they, like those, will fall from the kingdom, why does the saying seem a riddle to you? For it is one thing to say that they will lie outside all honour and glory, and another to say, "They will pay the same penalty." He did not say, "They will pay an equal penalty," as you perhaps supposed, not having understood the saying, but "They will not inherit the kingdom of God." From the glory, he says, they will be shut out in every case; but they will be judged according to the number, the kind, and the size of their sins. For great is the exactness of the divine court.

To Hierax, most illustrious. [What is meant by Elijah's being fed by a raven.] Know, wise friend, that the fount of goodness, wishing to wipe away the prophet's just indignation against the Jews (for he had brought on a famine, so that restraint might chasten the satiety that was giving birth to insolence), arranged for him to be fed by a raven, a bird that hates its young, which gives birth to them but does not feed them. That is why the Psalmist, although the whole creation by natural reason looks to the Creator ("The eyes of all," he says, "hope in you, and you give them their food in due season"), made mention of ravens, saying, "Who gives the beasts their food, and the young of the ravens that call upon him." Divine providence feeds all things, he says, but especially the young of ravens, which are neglected by their parents: small creatures flying about their nests become their food. God all but advised Elijah not to give too much rein to his indignation, and not to appear more inhuman than the kindness of the bird that hates its young: "It feeds you at my command; but you, wholly given over to indignation, have overlooked the claims of kindness."

To Daniel the presbyter. [What "The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge" means.] Know, my good friend, that "The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge" is not a pronouncement of Scripture, but the verdict of the judgment of the impious Jews. For since they sinned more than their forefathers and thought they were paying the penalty for them, they said this. But the divine and incorruptible Judge, showing that they were being punished not for others but for themselves, said: "As I live, says the Lord, this proverb shall no longer be spoken" (the proverb that they had invented, deceiving themselves and their hearers). "For each shall die in his own sin. For the soul that sins, it shall die."

To Hierax and Dionysius, presbyters. [From Daniel: on the chaste Susanna.] When those incontinent lovers, drowned in desire, came upon the most chaste Susanna (for licentiousness and drunkenness had taught them to behave outrageously), then indeed she who was counted among the disciples taught the supposed teachers the divine and incorruptible judgment. When desire had prescribed murder, and passion would not admit reason, she cried out, eager to keep the treasure of her chastity whole and untouched. When she had achieved what she wished, and they had failed to obtain what they ought not to have obtained, they brought an indictment, one which they themselves deserved to have brought against them; but the unexpected verdict turned the charge back upon themselves. If, then, Eusebius too, as you have written, is puffed up with the dignity of a teacher, dares what is not lawful, and will not even tolerate counsel, parading up and down the dignity of the episcopate, not that of virtue, do not lose heart. For the wages fitting for all that is done will be exacted, either here or there.

To Dorotheus the reader. [On "Even though we have known Christ according to the flesh."] Perhaps since Christ called those who do his Father's will his brothers, and showed that kinship according to the flesh, without kinship according to the spirit, is of no account, I say, the Apostle too said, "Even though we have known Christ according to the flesh, yet now we know him so no longer"; as if to say: even though we who believed from among the Jews once took pride in our kinship with him according to the flesh, now we do not glory in this, but in the closeness of belonging to him, which we reap through virtue. That is why he also said, "Be imitators of me, as I also am of Christ"; as if he said: I take pride in imitating him rather than in kinship according to the flesh. [Letter 4.47] [That one must pull down the pride of those who err but do not think they err, and grant pardon to those who acknowledge their fault.] Know, my good friend, that no one will escape the most luminous and sleepless eye, not even if he does something in a corner. For all things are naked to it, even if they seem hidden. That is why those who sin and do not repent will be received by everflowing rivers boiling up with fearful fire, whose streams are flames surging for punishment. Let us therefore fear God, for he is fearful; and revere him, for he is good; let us ask of him what is fitting for him to give and profitable for us to receive, for to this he listens; let us acknowledge our faults when we stumble, for he is beneficent and receives those who genuinely repent; and let us by no means make light of him, for he is powerful and cannot be deceived, but let us love him ardently. For to those who long for him he is also gentle.

To Ammonius. [On "Rise, let us go hence."] So that we might not be held fast on earth by prejudice, a most grievous passion and hard to lever out, and be shut out from the heavenly rewards, the Saviour said, "Rise, let us go hence." For mixing his own power with the word he uttered, he freed his genuine disciples from the tyrannical passions and transferred them to the senate above the world.

To Orion. [On "If there is taste in empty words."] Know that, though the illness is strong, wrestling down my strength, driving me toward the end, and threatening to separate my soul and make my body a corpse, I have paid it little heed and have been eager to interpret now what you wrote. The saying "If there is taste in empty words" indicates, I think, one of two things: either that a false reproach goes no further than the hearing, since it does not touch the hearer's mind; or that speech must be seasoned with salt in moderation, so that it may be pleasant to the well-disposed and nourishing, and may lay hold of the minds of the hearers. The salt of words of exhortation is the testimony of the divine oracles, the fear of judgment, and the message of the kingdom: these make the exhortation stronger, more effective, and more nourishing, and offer food suitable and fitting not only for those with good stomachs but also for those with poor appetites. [Letter 4.50] [On what the people said to Herod: "The voice of a god, and not of a man."] Know that those who know you were not surprised at what you are acclaimed for; those who did not know you have come to know you; and those who envy you have been consumed still more by their disease and have paid a penalty greater than any you could exact from them. If, then, you wish to fill the first again with delight, to give the second a more exact knowledge, and to exact the penalty from the third, add to your own nobility of character. So much for this. But since you have written asking why, when others flattered Herod beyond his worth and said, "The voice of a god, and not of a man," it was he who paid the penalty, I say that it was because he did not rebuke them or brush off their impious and mad flattery. By accepting it he trained them in greater impiety. And it is likely that they too paid the penalty, if not at once, then later. And if they escaped here, they will not escape there.

To Theon. [On "to those who are called according to purpose."] Divine grace, mingled with human eagerness, saves a man. That is why he who had Christ speaking in him said: "It works together for those who are called according to purpose." For it was not the calling alone (for all were called, but did not obey), but also the purpose of those called that brought about their salvation. For the calling was not compelled or forced, but voluntary.

To Athanasius the presbyter. [That sin is worse than death. On "For the wages of sin is death," and "Let not sin reign in you," and again, "The sting of death is sin."] Sin is far worse than death. That is why Paul, who more than anyone was skilled at examining such things, called sin a queen and death its wages, placing death under it. A queen, not because of its dignity (for nothing is more shameful than sin), but because of the vehement obedience of those it has captured. If, then, the wages of sin is death, let not sin reign in you, for to those with sense it is more grievous than death. Indeed, if a choice were set before me, and it were possible, I would choose to die without sinning rather than to sin and not die. So much more terrible is the one than the other, in my judgment. For death will be extinguished by the resurrection, but sin will be punished even after the resurrection; so that one who sins but does not die (let it be said by way of supposition) would gain nothing, since even after the resurrection he will undergo punishment. And he made this clear by another vivid example, saying, "The sting of death is sin." Just as no one would fear a snake or a scorpion that had no teeth or sting through which to send its venom, so death too, unless it comes on account of sin, is to be accepted without fear; and if it comes for virtue's sake, all the more gladly. Do you not think this possible? Take as witnesses the martyrs, who embraced death as the prelude to immortality.

To Dionysius the scholasticus. [On "Whatever you wish that men should do to you."] Approved are those who have been trained by the natural law and have done what is right; for nature has within itself an exact and incorruptible criterion of the virtues, which Christ too introduced by way of exhortation and counsel, saying, "All things whatever you wish that men should do to you, do you likewise to them." Then, showing that this is the rule both of piety and of love for others, he said, "For this is the law and the prophets." But since nature faltered and dimmed the features of virtue, the written law was also given. When that too was transgressed, the choir of the prophets was entrusted with the correction. And when it too gave up, saying, "We have healed Babylon, and she was not healed," he came who had placed the seeds of virtue in nature, taught through the law, and proclaimed through the prophets. When, then, the King of the heavens had come, doctrines befitting heaven were necessarily decreed, and a way of life suited to angels rather than to men was proclaimed in the holy Gospels, as in royal edicts. [Letter 4.54] To Paul the subdeacon. [On the same.] The ineffable Wisdom, so that we should not quarrel in asking what virtue is, fixed each person's own wish as the most perfect standard and said, "All things whatever you wish that men should do to you, do you also to them." If, then, you have the rule of the virtues within yourself, do not seek it from others, but use your own treasure.

To Harpocras the sophist. [That heresies grow from love of power or from preconceptions.] Love of power, the cause of all evils, which tries even to overturn what is established, has caused terrible wars to break out not only in our time but also among the ancients. The Pythagoreans, who practised silence, denounced those who prided themselves on eloquence. The Homerists disparaged the Platonists; the Platonists indicted the Homerists for impiety; the Aristotelians stripped for a fight against the Platonists; the Stoics barricaded themselves against the Aristotelians. As for the Epicureans, who dared to come to the aid of vice, it is most absurd even to mention them. The same happened in medicine. The Logicians pilloried the Methodists, and the Methodists barricaded themselves against the Logicians. The first said that diseases have many and various roots, and so they used various remedies, searching out the roots of illnesses and so stopping up the sources of the disorders; the others defined only two causes, constriction and flux, and so laid it down that one must either evacuate or restrain. And the Empirics mocked both. If I wished to tell also the quarrels of orators, poets, and historians with one another, much speech and much time would be spent. And no wonder. Where those who preened themselves on the name of philosophy did not hesitate to stir up a resounding war among themselves, the orators and the poets would hardly have cared for peace. They quarrelled even with the Socratics, who approved of self-control, justice, and temperance; and Plato, who satirized the poets in his dialogues, was satirized in turn by the Cynics, one of whom was Lucian, who composed his dialogues against almost everyone, both those I have mentioned and those I have passed over. The Platonists welcomed him because he had put on stage the gods invented by the poets; but the nurslings of the poets called him a blasphemer, for he satirized fiercely the gods they deified. Who, then, of those who champion the cause of the Greeks will dare to say that many heresies have been born among Christians, when he sees as many born among them too through love of power (for one must tell the truth)? If this were banished from among men, there is good hope that all would run together into the divine preaching with one voice and in right belief. [Letter 4.56] [On the same.] Heresies have been born, I think, either from love of power or from preconception, two passions hard to fight down. Some, not deigning or consenting to be among those who obey, have sown the seed of a newer teaching, not deigning to abide by what is established …

To Adamantius. [On the same.] Why do you wonder that after the Saviour's coming in the flesh many heresies were born (the devil sowed them, since he had heard clearly and expressly that all things will be brought to judgment and he will pay the penalty, so that he might have many to be punished with him), when even before his coming there were not a few heresies? For some men thought that God does not even exist; others that he exists but does not exercise providence; some that he exercises providence, but only over heavenly things; others not only over heavenly but also over earthly things, yet not over all of them, but only over the eminent, such as kings and rulers. Some declared that all things are carried along by chance, others by fate, others at random. Some thought it pious to worship idols, others to marry their mothers; some to sacrifice human beings, others to sacrifice animals; some to sacrifice oxen, others to slaughter camels; some to eat one another, others to eat grass. But if I were to bring everything into the open, I might perhaps not be believed, but I would not be refuted. If, then, the human race was always at strife with itself and did not hold the same opinions (for at times men, out of love of novelty or faction, disturbed what was established and legislated what seemed good to them), why do you wonder if now too, about a matter that is divine and beyond reason, they make a show of disagreeing, driven mad by love of power?