Letters 4.76–4.93

To Heron the presbyter. [On the saying, "The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed."] Skill in interpretation presents what is said with clearer images and, as it were, brings what is hidden before the eyes; through it the hearers are held as by a lyre, especially when the inquiry is not about familiar or well-worn matters but about things unclear to most people, and when the wisdom of the speakers is evident, which makes the desire of the hearers plain as well; for what is not very familiar draws one on. I said this because you asked, "What does it mean that the kingdom of heaven is likened to a grain of mustard seed?" The word of the divine preaching is small when it is sown, smaller than the doctrines ever spoken by those reputed wise, and it is announced in the briefest words, not only because it is concise but also because its diction is plain. But when it is cultivated it grows and spreads, and is found to surpass all the words ever admired, since it brings forth truth and does not adorn falsehood; and nothing is greater than truth. That is why those who pride themselves on the name of philosophy bid a long farewell to their own doctrines, seek the shade of God, and take refuge in it. How many Pythagoreans who had been teachers of conceit and arrogance have become disciples of the Word! How many Platonists, lowering the eyebrow raised by fine speech, have settled under its shade! How many Aristotelians and Stoics, despising the wisdom on which they prided themselves, have been glad to be ranked among those who obey! [Letter 4.77] [On the virtue of Joseph.] The Egyptian woman loved the young man; the young man loved chastity. So she, hunting him, did not succeed in her hunt, though she spread every net of the chase; but he succeeded in his, rising above all her nets. For on her side the enemy was contending; on his, the lawgiver of chastity. [Letter 4.78] To Arsenuphius the reader. [On the virtue of Joseph.] I rejoice greatly that you rejoice in the narratives about Joseph. For one who proclaims the chaste plainly loves chastity; we usually praise those kinds of virtue to which we are most genuinely disposed. But since you love purity, consider this too: how virtue is a thing made to rule, even if the one who practises it falls into slavery. He ruled his brothers in his father's house, because his father loved his character. He ruled also in his Egyptian slavery, though he had been sold; for by the decorum of his ways he had the goodwill of the man who bought him, which divine grace poured into him. He ruled his mistress too, or rather pleasure, which has ruled many young men like a king. He ruled also in prison, though accused of adultery; for he had the goodwill of the chief jailer, who entrusted him with charge over those confined there, to whom, I think, he had also been sent as a physician of their misfortunes. For how would a cruel and implacable man, who traffics in other people's misfortunes (and almost all jailers are such), have entrusted the prison to the gentlest and meekest of men, who made no profit from it, but healed with kind words and gentle exhortations the pains of those thrown in, whether justly or unjustly? But here too divine grace is plain, which crowns virtue everywhere. He ruled in the palace, when the tyrant of Egypt changed his tyranny into a kingship; for he yielded everything to him except the name. He ruled his brothers a second time, when, unrecognized as a brother, he was bowed down to as a king. He ruled Egypt too: when it was about to perish by famine, he nourished, by divine foresight, the land that nourishes other lands. He ruled himself as well, which is the greatest rule, showing himself lofty in lowly circumstances and lowly in lofty ones; unenslaved and free in the most shameful circumstances, and most eager and unhesitating in what was fitting. For neither in his father's house nor in the Egyptian's was he lifted up to recklessness when he saw himself loved by all; nor did he expose her lust, though he had his own beauty as a credible witness of her passion and his master's goodwill fighting on his side. And his master, when the accusation was pregnant with slaughter, did not even scourge him, but threw him into prison. If anyone thinks he showed this philosophy because he could not take revenge, let him consider that not even when he reigned did he take revenge on her. So neither when slandered did he expose her, nor, when he fell into the prison and was entrusted with charge over those there, did he become proud and trample on the others; rather he lightened the burden of their grief as far as he could, reasoning perhaps from his own case, since he had been thrown in unjustly, about theirs as well. For all are accustomed to judge others from their own case, and he above all, who everywhere gave proofs of virtue, tested like gold in the fire, and showed its marks as his own. And why do I say "in the prison"? There even those who are not very insensitive acquire some humility and gentleness, born either of conscience or of the place; but he did not prove otherwise even in the kingship. There too he displayed the same meekness, feeding the Egyptians, stretching out a saving hand to those who came from everywhere, and not only not taking revenge on his brothers, but even doing them good. O virtue, which showed a slave high-minded and a king humble! O virtue, which marked its own signs everywhere! Unhumbled in misfortunes, gentle in eminence! Neither defeated by licentiousness nor resentful at slander! Treating all royally, but pleasure as a tyrant! Even when it was compelled to tell its own story, it blushed to tell the truth, lest it seem to place the crown of chastity on itself! For he exposed neither his brothers' plot nor the Egyptian woman's passion, but said: "I was indeed stolen out of the land of the Hebrews, and here I have done nothing evil, but they have put me into this pit." Rightly, then, the lawgiver and president of chastity awarded him the crown, making him admired by the ancients and celebrated by later generations.

To Arsenuphius the reader. [On the Apostle: that "This man is a chosen vessel to me."] "This man is a chosen vessel to me," Christ says of Paul when he entrusted the apostolic preaching to him. For he would not have taken the Church for which he poured out his precious blood and handed it over to a teacher who was not going to bring virtue to match the grace; nor would he have given this testimony if he had seen that his eagerness did not match the greatness of the task. For he wanted the preaching to run everywhere, braced not only by the word but also by the character of those who preached. Signs can admit an evil suspicion; but an upright life stops the mouth of the devil himself. So let those who will take no thought for an upright life not imagine that the preaching prevailed by signs alone. For the life of the preachers worked together with what was done and said, giving no handle to anyone. If, then, the life of teachers now rivalled the apostolic way of life, perhaps signs would happen too; and even if they did not, it would be enough for the enlightenment of those who saw it.

To Nemesius the magistrianus. [On "All that the Lord has said we will do and hear"; and on "The natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit"; and on "A bad tree cannot bear good fruit."] You perhaps think the saying strange, since it was spoken by Jews, who neither said nor did anything right; but I, since the lawgiver did not blame them for it, think it was well said, "All that the Lord has said we will do and hear," because what we must do while learning, we learn by doing. Those who are learning anything else rightly hear first and then do; but those who undertake first to put the divine commandments into practice learn from the practice, since it is not speech so much as practice that gives birth to knowledge. For truly the one who practises virtue is taught virtue by the practice itself, and learns, in a way, that it is most useful, most fitting, and most protective, and that it has been legislated for our benefit. Enough about this. As for "A bad tree cannot bear good fruit," it does not abolish repentance, but satirizes persistence in a habit of vice. While it is bad it cannot bear good fruit; but once changed to virtue it will bear it. If the Saviour's word were about trees, let your view prevail; but if it is about men, and he used an example (for what nature is to them, choice is to us), let the supposition be overturned. What kind of tree does Peter seem to you? Good? Then how did he deny? Bad? Then how do all land and sea sing his contests and trophies? And what kind was Judas? Bad? Then how was he thought worthy of the apostolic honour? Good? Then how did he betray? But if I brought into the open all the changes that have happened in men, I would without noticing bring in a multitude of words. So, leaving those for you to gather from the Scriptures, I shall go on to interpret the Apostle's saying. "The natural man," even if he "does not receive the things of the Spirit," yet will receive them; for he did not say, "He will not receive," but "He does not receive." And again, "He cannot know"; and he did not say, "He will not be able." Just as if someone saw red-hot iron and said, "It cannot be cold" (yet it will be able to), so it is with these sayings: the one is in the present tense, the other in the future.

To Athanasius. [That it was not to our advantage to have knowledge of all things.] I think this too is wise, which you call unreasonable. For if all things were clear, where would we use our understanding, since there would be no inquiry? And if all things were unclear, we would likewise have given up, since there would be no discovery. But as it is, through what is clear, what is unclear is also in some way grasped. And if it escapes us, even so it benefits us by checking our conceit.

To Eulogius. [On the incomprehensible.] Things within reach are easily hunted, since they need no great effort; things hard to reach, though more laborious, can still be caught; but things beyond reach, which cannot be caught in any way, only bring toil to those who dare to go out and hunt them; and those who at any time try to hunt what is beyond all hunting miss their goal.

To Lucian. To do wrong is bad; to vote unjustly is worse. The one leaves the person wronged a hope of help; the other takes even this away, confirming the wrong. So let us neither do wrong, nor, if we are found to be judges, vote unjustly.

To Heron the scholasticus. [On "They profess to know God, but deny him by their works."] You are in danger, wise friend, of not knowing what everyone knows; for you wrote, "What does 'They profess to know God, but deny him by their works' mean?" That everyone knows this, not only those nourished on the sacred oracles but also those who have never read them, Demosthenes testifies, saying, "All speech, if it lacks deeds, appears something vain and empty." The lawgivers outside the faith, too, punish those tried for impiety not on the basis of words but of deeds. And Christ, setting before us two sons of one father, blamed the one who, told to go into the vineyard and work, promised but did not go, and approved the one who did not promise but worked. For intentions are better judged not by words but by deeds. For example, you profess that God exists: you said well, for he exists. But the word counts for little without the testimony of works. If, while professing that God exists, you do what someone would do who thought there was no God, how will the deed not refute the word, and your character cancel your speech? So profess that God exists by what you do; let both word and character proclaim it, and let your hearers be persuaded. But if you stop at words and neglect to do what is right, I see no argument that will be able to persuade your hearers without your doing what is fitting. [Letter 4.86] To Paul. [On "An eye for an eye," and what follows.] You are in danger of not knowing that even those parts of the law that seem inhuman breathe gentleness. For the law that an eye is to be put out for an eye is not cruel and inhuman: taken at face value it is full of justice, and when understood it is full also of love for humankind, as I said. It rightly decreed this so as to chasten the one who intends to do harm by the fear of suffering it, and to check vice.

To Panhellenius. [From Exodus: "Let each ask of his neighbour articles of silver and gold," and the rest.] The very thing that you say was put forward by the man who disputed with you breathes the highest justice. Since the Egyptians had not paid the Hebrews their wages for serving them a long time, the fount of justice arranged for it to be exacted from them against their will. That is why he said, "Let each woman ask of her neighbour and of the woman who lodges with her articles of silver and gold." If he had ordered this for people who had not served, someone might perhaps have thought it unjust. But since he commanded them to make those who had taken away their freedom pay with money, I would say not only that the Egyptians were not wronged, but that not even an equal penalty was exacted. For how are loss of money and loss of freedom equal? For freedom, those who now have it are willing not only to give up their property but even to die.

To Zoilus the presbyter. [On forgetfulness.] Even the divine Paul, though rich in spiritual gifts, gave no small effort to reading. That is why he wrote to his illustrious pupil, "Attend to reading." For it is terrible, above all for one who has tasted divine wisdom, to be deprived of it, when not only is nothing added to memory, but what is there is destroyed by forgetfulness. This faculty above all, unless it is cared for every day, tends to depart, since it does not tolerate idleness, negligence, and excuses. Not knowing this, or rather cloaking their own ignorance, most people mock lovers of learning and the wise, not knowing that wisdom rejoices most in wise pupils.

To Philitrus. [On what is written in the law, "You shall not pity the poor in judgment."] Chastising both the insatiability of power and the meddlesomeness of poverty, the lawgiver decreed, "You shall not pity the poor in judgment," not teaching inhumanity but checking villainy, so that the poor should not abuse their poverty to meddle. And if he forbade pity even for the poor man, who is fighting poverty, a beast hard to tame, much more did he chastise the insatiability of the rich. [Letter 4.90] To Alypius. [On reading. Against the Greeks. On the grace of the divinely inspired Scriptures and the benefit that comes from them.] Even for those who hold that reality goes no further than this world, the end of life is, I think, more tolerable than ignorance during life. If that is so for them, much more for us, who have our goal in eternity and ought to sharpen our understanding every day from the divine oracles. [Letter 4.91] [On the same.] People's desires concerning literature are of many kinds. Some love to write Attic in the old manner; others put plain speaking before Atticism, saying, "What is the gain from writing Attic, when what is said is hidden as in darkness and needs others to bring it to light?" Others delight in epic poetry; others in the solemnity of tragedy, others in the glibness of comedy, and others in the elegance of rhetoric. But even these do not agree. Some approve the loftiness of Plato, others the solemnity of Thucydides; some the plainness of Isocrates, others the force of Demosthenes, for they think he has fed on all the arts of speech and surpasses everyone in force, sharpness, feeling, and combat. Some love the style of Lysias, clear to all and familiar; others that of Isaeus, more forensic than Isocrates and loftier than Lysias; others the clarity and brightness of Aeschines. With so many disagreeing, I cannot say how any writer could please them all. So let those who look to glory write as they please. But the sacred and heavenly oracles, since they were spoken and written for the benefit of all humanity, were blended with clarity. By this, those who delight in the other virtues of speech (and they are few) suffer no harm, once they understand what was revealed; while all who are occupied with farming, crafts, and the other business of life are benefited by its clarity, learning in an instant what is fitting, just, and profitable. For divine instruction has been cut down to such brevity that it declares each person's own wish to be the standard of virtue: "All things whatever you wish that men should do to you, do you likewise to them; for this is the law and the prophets." What are the dialogues of Plato beside this excellence, brevity, and clarity, or the tablet of Homer, or the codes of the lawgivers, or the books of Demosthenes, or the reversals of tragedy, or the plots of comedy? Let those who mock the plainness of the words judge rightly, and they will cast an incorruptible vote. How many dialogues did the most eloquent Plato write, wishing to show what justice is, yet he said nothing clear and persuaded no one, and even lost his own freedom before he died? How much did Aristotle write, opposing Plato and satirizing his doctrines? But he too achieved nothing, except to beget a battle of words for life. How much did the Stoics write, barricading themselves against Aristotle? But their doctrines too were extinguished. Let them compare the clarity of the divine oracles with the so-called wise, then, and stop babbling, and accept the divine phrasing of the oracles, which looks not to ambition but to the benefit of the hearers.

To Peter. Do not shadow-box, friend; do not quarrel over trivial things and harm yourself in the greatest and most vital ones; and do not imitate those who swallow the camel and strain out the gnat.

To Daniel the presbyter. [On "Blessed are you when men revile you," and what follows.] Not all insults come because of Christ; sometimes they come because of ourselves, when we do wrong or something else. And sometimes they come because of him, but are true and not invented. The highest standard of approval, then, requires two things: that the insults be false, and that they come because of him. If one of the two is lacking, the other will not be annulled or go for nothing (that would be absurd), but it will not reach the highest blessedness. If we are reviled for Christ's sake but the insults are true, the reward is cut down; if not for Christ's sake but they are false, again the reward is not the very highest. Each has a reward, but not as great as when both are joined. And in saying "for my sake" he does not present himself as lowly, or merely moderate, or of a creature's rank; for it would be arrogant for any such being to set itself as the goal instead of God, as if it were worth striving for through the greatest contests and the utmost dangers. [Letter 4.94] [On "Therefore do not judge before the time."] I know some who practise chastity out of desire for a different licentiousness; and others whose thoughts lean toward it by nature; some who beseech God for the sake of prosperity, and others who pursue purity for the sake of piety alone; some who look to injustice and have put on justice as a cloak for it, and others who have their judgment as the guide of their inclination toward justice. If, then, I, a mean man and slow of understanding, have been able to perceive that many have not fixed the roots of the good in virtue, but have honoured the good with an eye to something else, will the ineffable Wisdom, the inexpressible Understanding, which knows all things before they come to be, consent to give its verdict from the branches when the root is disposed the opposite way? I do not think so. Rather, it will bring the roots, beginnings, inclinations, and impulses of the soul to exact examination, and give its verdict from its own incorruptible judgment. I think the Apostle's passage that you put forward, "Therefore do not judge anything before the time," has been made clear. It plainly concerns either things that are unclear and not easily traced, or the indifferent foods, about which he spent many words when writing to the Romans. For about clear matters he both judged and commanded us to judge, and he expelled and ordered expulsion from the Church; but about unclear things he urged us to wait until the Lord comes. For it is absurd to snatch the Judge's dignity, to cast the vote without a trial, and not to entrust it to the rule of truth. [Letter 4.95] To Paul the presbyter. [On "Why not rather be wronged?"] If someone, as you have written, inflames his soul to madness with desire for other people's property, having resolved not only to do wrong but also to talk nonsense, saying, "It is written, 'Why not rather be wronged?'," let him hear, if he has ears and avarice has not stopped them: even if this was written for me, it was not written for you to defraud. So do not let the Apostle's exhortation become a pretext for greed; and do not think that, because he exhorted me to let myself be defrauded, room has been given you to do wrong. For being wronged brings me salvation, but defrauding brings you punishment. [Letter 4.97] To Martianus the presbyter. [Why Christ, going to the cross, rebuked the women who were lamenting.] Since you have written asking why Christ, as he went, or was led, to the cross, rebuked the women who were lamenting him (for even if what they did came from ignorance, it still bore a mark of good feeling), I say that since his passion was neither involuntary nor against his will, sympathy rightly seemed an insult to him. For sympathy is not pleasant or acceptable to one for whom the suffering is not a suffering against his will. [Letter 4.98] To Neilammon the monk. [If Christ had to suffer, why were those who crucified him punished?] Since you have written, "If Christ had to suffer, why did those who crucified him pay the penalty?", I say that "He had to suffer" shows his voluntary impulse toward the passion and the divine arrangement; it does not plead a defence for those who did it. For the plot of those accursed men did not agree with the divine will; rather, it strove to undo what God was arranging. So for those wretches the deed was impiety; for God it was a wise arrangement, and for men, freedom; for he turned even their wickedness to the benefit of the race, using the flesh of the viper to prepare an antidote. [On the synod at Nicaea.]