Letters 1 part 30/32

Then again, when we privately counsel our friends what is best, even if we seem unpersuasive to those we counsel, we are not angry;

then in matters where it is not the counsel of men but the judgment of God, shall we be vexed at being passed over in favor of the judgments of God? If then it is given by men, why must one ask it of us, rather than take it for oneself? But if it is from the Lord, one ought to pray, not to be indignant, and in prayer not to ask for one's own will, but to leave what is expedient to God who dispenses it.

May the holy God avert every trial of grievous matters from your house, and grant to you yourself and to all who belong to you a life free from sickness and harm, in every prosperity.

TO TIMOTHY THE CHOREPISCOPUS. To write all that I think seems to me neither fitting to the measure of a letter, nor otherwise suited to this kind of address; yet to pass over it in silence is well-nigh impossible for me, my heart being inflamed with righteous anger against you.

I shall therefore take a middle course, writing some things and passing over others.

For I wish to take hold of you, in the manner that is fitting, with the frankness of friendship.

Is that Timothy, whom we have known from boyhood to employ such intensity toward rectitude and a well-ordered life that he was blamed for excess in these very things, now—having abandoned all consideration of what he must do in every way to draw near to God—looking instead to what such-and-such a person thinks about you, hanging your life upon the opinion of others, pondering how you may not be useless to your friends nor a laughingstock to your enemies, and fearing the disgrace that comes from the many as though it were something terrible, not realizing that, while you wear yourself out over these things, you are unwittingly neglecting the life that ought to come first? For that it is not possible to succeed at both together—the affairs of this world and the citizenship according to God—holy Scripture is full of what it has taught us on this, and nature herself is likewise full of such examples.

It is altogether impossible to think two thoughts at the same time.

And in perceptions of sense, it is impossible to receive and distinguish two sounds falling upon the ears simultaneously and at the same time, even though we have two organs of hearing opened to us.

And eyes, unless both are directed together toward some one visible object, cannot perform their proper function accurately.

These, then, are examples from nature; but to recount to you what comes from the Scriptures is no less ridiculous than, as the saying goes, "to bring an owl to Athens."

Why then do we mix things unmixable—the turmoil of public affairs and the practice of piety—instead of standing apart from the tumults and from having and giving trouble to others, becoming masters of ourselves, and confirming by our deeds the goal of piety we long ago set before us, and showing to those who wish to do us harm that it is not in their power to grieve us whenever they wish? This will come to pass once we show ourselves free of every handhold.

So much, then, for that.

May it be granted that we come together at some point and take more careful counsel concerning what is beneficial for our souls, lest, absorbed in care for vain things, we be overtaken by the necessary departure when it comes upon us.

As for the things sent by your love, I rejoiced exceedingly; they were most pleasant even by their own nature, but the addition of the sender multiplied the pleasure many times over.

As for the things from Pontus, the soothing balms and the wax, please receive them gladly when we send them;

For we are in great longing, especially now that we have heard you have been honored with the great honor, the immortal garment which, encompassing our humanity, has blotted out death in the flesh, and the mortal has been swallowed up in the garment of incorruption.

Since, then, the Lord through his grace has made you his own, and has estranged you from all sin, and has opened the kingdom of heaven, and has shown you the paths that lead to that blessedness there, we exhort you—a man who surpasses the rest so greatly in understanding—to receive this grace with due consideration, and to become a faithful guardian of the treasure, keeping with all care the safekeeping of the royal deposit entrusted to you, so that, preserving the seal inviolate, you may stand before the Lord shining with the brightness of the saints, casting no spot or wrinkle upon the pure garment of incorruption, but preserving sanctification in all your members, as one who has put on Christ.

For as many of you, it says, as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. Let all your members, then, be holy, so that it may be fitting for them to be covered by the holy and radiant garment.

TO JULIAN. How has your body fared this intervening time—have you fully recovered the use of your hand? And how do the rest of the affairs of life go for you—do they proceed according to your wish, as we pray and as is owed to your resolve? For those whose mind is prone to change, it is not at all strange that their life too should be unsettled;

but for those whose resolve is fixed, ever steadfast and the same, it follows that they should conduct their life in harmony with their purpose.

For indeed it is not granted to the helmsman to make a calm sea whenever he wishes;

yet life would be altogether easy, if we should silence the tumults that rise up within us from the passions, and set our mind higher than the things that assail us from without.

For indeed neither losses nor illnesses nor the other hardships of life will touch the man of earnest purpose, so long as he keeps his mind journeying together with God, looking ahead to what is to come, and rising lightly and nimbly above the storm that is stirred up from below.

Since indeed those who are violently gripped by the cares of life, like fat birds carrying their wings to no purpose, are dragged down somewhere below along with the beasts they tend.

But as for you, we have been permitted to see you, caught up in your affairs, only to the extent that men passing one another on the open sea see each other.

Nevertheless, since it is possible to know the whole lion from a single claw, we consider that from that brief experience we have come to know you sufficiently.

Hence we count it a great matter that you should hold our affairs in esteem, and that we should not be absent from your thoughts, but should be continually present with you through remembrance.

The more continually you do this, the more you will gratify us.

TO FESTUS AND MAGNUS. It is fitting, I suppose, that fathers should have forethought for their own children, and farmers care for their plants or seeds, and teachers concern themselves for their pupils, especially when, by natural aptitude, they show hopeful signs of becoming better than themselves.

For the farmer too rejoices in his labor when his ears of grain ripen for him, or his plants grow; and pupils gladden their teachers, and children their fathers, the former by advancing in virtue, the latter in growth.

But we have for you a care so much the greater, and a hope so much the better, as piety surpasses every art, and all living creatures and fruits together; and we pray to see it, once rooted by us in your souls while still tender and pure, and nourished, advance to full maturity and to fruits in their season, your own love of learning cooperating with our prayers.

For be well assured that both our good will toward you and the cooperation of God rest upon your own resolves; and when these are directed toward what is needful, God, being called upon as fellow-worker, will be present even uncalled, and every man who loves God will be self-moved toward teaching.

For invincible is the zeal of those able to teach something useful, when the souls of the learners are purged of all obstinacy.

Therefore not even separation of body is a hindrance, since he who created us, out of the abundance of his wisdom and love for mankind, did not confine our mind within the bounds of our bodies, nor the power of words within the tongue, but gave besides a further gift of time to those able to benefit others, so that they can pass on their teaching not only to those far distant, but even to those born very much later.

And experience confirms this word for us, since both those who lived many years before now teach the young, their teaching being preserved in writing, and we too, though so far separated in body, are ever united in mind and hold converse with each other readily, our teaching hindered neither by land nor by sea, if only there be on your part any care for your own souls.

Since, then, what was spoken by us were not mere words, but teachings that ought to come forth into deed—for the benefit of you who received them, and for the rest of us who proposed the counsel, and for the glory and praise of Christ, whose name has been called upon us—for this reason I have sent our most beloved brother, that he might learn who is eager, rouse who is sluggish, and make known to us who is resistant.

For great is our desire both to see you gathered together, and to hear concerning you that you do not love a life without witness, but rather that all of you welcome being guardians of one another's exactness and witnesses of good deeds accomplished.

For thus each will receive a complete reward both for himself and for the progress of his brother—which reward it behooves us to furnish one another, both in word and in deed, through constant fellowship and exhortation.

Above all we exhort you to remember the faith of the Fathers, and not to be shaken by those who, in our absence and quiet, attempt to lead you about, knowing that neither exactness of conduct, if not illumined by faith in God, is by itself profitable, nor a right confession, if bereft of good works, will be able to present us before the Lord; but both must be present together, so that the man of God may be complete, and our life may not, through what is lacking, go limping.

For it is faith that saves us, as the Apostle says, working through love.

TO ELEUTHERA. Conjecturing your disposition toward us, and recognizing the zeal you have for the work of the Lord, we took courage, as we did once before, treating you as a daughter, and made further use of the mules, using them sparingly indeed as if they were our own, yet nonetheless prolonging their service.

This, then, needed to be communicated to your reverence, so that you may know that what is done is a proof of disposition.

At the same time, through this letter, we remind your modesty to remember the Lord, and, keeping ever before your eyes the departure from this world, to order your life with a view to your defense before the Judge who cannot be deceived, so that you may have boldness on account of your good works before him who is about to reveal the secrets of our hearts on the day of his visitation.

We salute through you the most noble daughter, and I beseech that she spend her time in the study of the sayings of the Lord, so that her soul may be nourished by good teaching, and that her understanding may increase in growth and greatness rather more than her body does by nature.

TO ELEUTHERA. Judging it altogether incumbent upon me, both because of the seniority of my age and because of the genuineness of my spiritual disposition, to visit your incomparable nobility both in bodily presence and, when absent, not to be lacking, but to supply what is wanting by letters—since I found a fitting bearer of a letter for your reverence in this woman—through her I address you, chiefly to urge you on to the work of the Lord, that the holy God, having brought you honorably through the days of your sojourning, may render you worthy also of the good things to come, in all piety and reverence.

...having first and foremost the reward of the Lord, and then also giving rest to us, who in the bowels of Christ fulfill toward you the measure of love.

But that deception has taken hold of you, I marvel—that you have believed some irrational power to reside in water, and that too when no testimony confirms the rumor.

There is therefore no one among those who used it who has received into his body, whether small or great, of that good which he hoped for from it—unless perhaps some spontaneous relief has occurred to someone, of the kind that naturally happens to people even while sleeping or engaged in other activities in life.

But the one who does away with love persuades the more simple-minded to attribute such spontaneous occurrences to the nature of the water.

That our word is true, you may learn from experience itself.

TO THE CENSITOR. You wrote to me—though I knew it already—that you are ill-disposed toward the oversight of public affairs.

For indeed it is an old saying, that those who pursue virtue do not gladly cast themselves into positions of authority.

For the things proper to physicians, these I see also belong to rulers.

For they see terrible things and undergo unpleasant experiences, and reap their own griefs from others' misfortunes—those, that is, who are true rulers; whereas whatever is mercenary among men, looking to money and infatuated with that kind of glory, accounts it the greatest of goods to obtain some power from which they will be able to do good to friends, defend themselves against enemies, and acquire for themselves the things they eagerly pursue.

Whence should this be true of you? You who, though your civic power was so great, willingly withdrew, and though it was in your power to rule a city as though it were a single household—

but you chose the unofficious and quiet life, deeming it worthier of pursuit neither to have troubles nor to cause them for others, more than the rest esteem it honorable to be difficult and contentious.

But since the Lord has willed that the land of the Iborites should not fall into the hands of profiteering men, nor that the assessment be conducted as in a slave market, but rather, as is just, that each be registered fairly, accept the task—even if it is otherwise burdensome—as one that can nevertheless prove for you a means of gaining good repute with God.

And neither cower before power, nor despise poverty, but present to those under your administration an impartiality of judgment more unswerving than any balance-scale.

For thus your zeal for justice will become manifest even to those who trust you, and they will admire you above the rest.

Or even if it should escape their notice, it will not escape our God, who has set before us great prizes for good works.

For in that matter there was no need either to suffer or to say anything gloomy; but pitiable are those who have been disappointed in the hopes they placed in it.

And truly it is a thing worthy of many tears and groans, to have sent forth a child in the very flower of his age for training in letters, and now to receive, in silence, this long and hateful silence.

But these things at once moved us, as human beings, and we shed a sudden tear and let out an untutored groan from the depths of our heart, when the affliction suddenly encompassed our reason like some cloud.

But when we came to ourselves and looked closely with the eye of the soul at the nature of human things, we made our apology to the Lord for the way our soul, carried away, was affected by the event, and we admonished ourselves to bear these things with moderation, seeing that they have been allotted to human life by God's ancient decree.

The lad is gone, in the very prime of livable age, distinguished among the companies of his peers, beloved by his teachers, able by mere conversation to draw even the most savage into goodwill, quick in his studies, gentle in character, composed beyond his years — and though one should say more than this, one would still say less than the truth; yet he was, after all, a man born of a man.

What then ought the father of such a son to consider? What else but to recall that his own father too has died? What wonder, then, that one born of a mortal should become the father of a mortal? But that it happened before its time, before he was sated with life, before he reached the full measure of his age and made himself known among men and left behind a succession of his family — these things, as I persuade myself, are not an increase of the affliction but a consolation for what has occurred.

God's ordinance deserves to be thanked, in that he did not leave orphaned children on earth, and did not leave a widow given over to long affliction, or one who would go on to live with another husband and neglect her former marriage.

As for the fact that the boy's life was not prolonged in this world — who is so ungrateful as not to reckon this the greatest of goods? For a longer sojourn here is an occasion for more evils.

He did no evil, he wove no deceit against his neighbor, he was not compelled into association with bands of evildoers, he was not entangled in the evils of the marketplace, he did not endure the compulsion of sins — no falsehood, no ingratitude, no covetousness, no love of pleasure, none of the passions of the flesh that are wont to arise in undisciplined souls.

He departed with his soul stained by not one of these blemishes, but went forth pure to the better lot.

It was not the earth that hid the beloved one, but heaven that received him.

God, who administers our affairs, who ordains for each the boundaries of his times, who brought him into this life, is the very one who has also translated him from it.

We have, in the extremity of misfortunes, a school of instruction in that renowned utterance of the great Job:

The Lord gave, the Lord has taken away;

as it seemed good to the Lord, so it has come to pass.

Blessed be the name of the Lord for ever... A LETTER OF CONSOLATION. As for the state we were thrown into on hearing of this calamity, no words could suffice to convey its vividness to you — reckoning, on the one hand, the loss which the whole community of the devout has sustained in losing the patroness of its own order, and, on the other, considering into what dejection the former brightness of your gravity has fallen, beholding in our mind's eye a household blessed by all now brought to its knees, and a union that had grown together through the utmost harmony dissolved more swiftly than a dream.

We became so devoted to you that at every hour we had your affairs upon our tongue.

And when we came to be intimately acquainted with that blessed soul, we were truly persuaded that the word of Proverbs was confirmed in your case, that a wife is fitted to her husband by God.

So fittingly disposed to one another were you,

that, as in a mirror, each of you displayed beforehand in yourself the character of the other.

And even if one were to say much, he would not attain to even the smallest fraction of what is deserved.

But what must we suffer in the face of a law of God that has long prevailed — that he who has entered into existence should, in due time, again depart, and that every soul, having rendered to life its necessary service, should then be released from the bonds of the body? We are neither the first to have suffered this, admirable sir, nor the only ones; but the very things our parents and grandparents and all our forebears have experienced, these we too have come to experience.

And the present life is full of such examples.

But you, who so far surpass the rest in virtue, ought, even in the midst of these sufferings, to keep the nobility of your soul unbowed — not chafing at the present loss, but rendering thanks to the Giver for the gift you had from the beginning.

For to die is common to all who share the same nature, but to have lived with a good wife has belonged only to the few blessed according to God — so that even the very grief felt at this separation is, to those who reckon rightly and with gratitude, one of the gifts that come from God.

For we have known many who received the dissolution of an ill-matched union as though it were the laying down of a burden.

Look up at this heaven and the sun, and survey all the creation round about, for these things, great and vast as they are, will a little later no longer appear.

From all this, draw the conclusion that, being part of a dying creation, we have received what falls to us from our common nature; since marriage itself is a consolation for the fact of dying.

But if we grieve that she departed before us so soon, let us not begrudge her that she was not for long filled with the troubles of life, but rather, like the grace of flowers, that she left us while we still longed for her.

Above all, let the doctrine of the resurrection console your soul, seeing that you are a Christian and conduct your life in hope of the good things to come.

You ought, then, to think of it as of one who has gone ahead on a road which we too must eventually travel.

And if it is that she went before us, this is not a thing worthy of lamentation.

For it may be that, a little later, our own case will be more pitiable, if by being prolonged further we should become liable to more punishments.

But let our reasoning shake off the burden of grief and take up instead the concern for how we ought henceforth to please the Lord.

TO THE WIFE OF BRISO. A LETTER OF CONSOLATION. What need is there to say how greatly we groaned at the news of the calamity concerning that best of men, Briso? For surely there is no one with a heart so stony that, having come to know that man, and then hearing that he was suddenly snatched away from among men, did not reckon the loss of that man a common loss to life itself.

But immediately our grief gave way to concern for you, as we reasoned that, if the event was so heavy and hard to bear for those far removed from close kinship, how must your soul — naturally so good and, because of the gentleness of your character, so readily inclined to compassion, and thus so susceptible to suffering — have been affected, so as to feel, as it were, a kind of severing in two at the separation from your yoke-fellow?

But such, and even greater, are the griefs; what then is the consolation for what has happened? First, the ordinance of our God that has prevailed from the beginning, that he who has come into being must without exception depart from life at the appointed time.

If, then, human affairs have been so ordered from Adam down to us, let us not be indignant at the common laws of nature, but let us accept God's dispensation toward us, who ordained that that noble and unconquered soul should depart from life not with his body wasted by disease nor withered by age, but should end his life in the prime of his years and in the splendor of his achievements in war.

So we ought not to be aggrieved that we have been separated from such a man, but rather give thanks to the Lord that we were deemed worthy of union with such a man — a man whose loss almost the whole Roman Empire has felt, whom even the Emperor recalled to mind, whom the soldiers mourned, and whom those in the highest offices lamented as though he were their own true son.

Since, then, he has left you the memory of his own virtue, consider that you have a sufficient consolation for your suffering.

Furthermore, I want you to know this too: that whoever does not succumb to afflictions, but bears the weight of grief through hope in God, has a great reward from God for endurance.

For neither are we permitted, by the ordinance of the Apostle, to grieve for those who have fallen asleep as those outside do.

Let your children also be, as it were, living images consoling you for the absence of the one you long for.

So let the occupation of rearing your children draw your soul away from griefs, and, being concerned about how you may spend the rest of your time pleasing to the Lord, you will devise for your thoughts a worthy occupation.

For the preparation of our defense before our Lord Jesus Christ, and the eagerness to be found numbered among those who love him, is sufficient to overshadow grief, so that we may not be swallowed up by it.

May the Lord grant to your heart the consolation of the good that comes from his Spirit, so that we too, on hearing news of you, may be set at ease, and that you may be a good example of a virtuous life to all who share your rank and age.

TO THE COUNT OF THE PRIVY PURSE. The men of this district have, I think, through some false slander, persuaded your Honor to impose upon these people a tax of mares.

Since, therefore, what is being done is unjust, and for that reason ought to displease your Honor, and is also grievous to us on account of the close relationship we have with those who have been wronged, we have hastened to entreat your Kindness not to allow the insolence of those attempting this injustice to proceed further.

TO ABURGIUS. This is the man on whose behalf I spoke to you before, through the deacon.

Since, then, he has come bearing this letter from us, let him depart having obtained from you what he desires.

For on every occasion his tongue speaks of you:

in the commemoration of the orthodox, in hospitality to ascetics, in every virtue, this man ranks you first.

And if anyone mentions teachers, he will not tolerate placing others before you;

as for those able to refute the plausibility of heresy, he would not choose to count anyone else before you, testifying that your virtue is, in every respect, unrivaled and beyond contest.

And it costs him no great effort to persuade others when he says these things.

This man, then, on returning to you, asked for a letter — not that he might commend himself to you through us, but that he might do me a service, by furnishing me an occasion to address my beloved ones.

May the Lord reward him for his good intention.

And do you also, with your prayers and your good disposition toward all, bestow upon him whatever favor lies within your power.

And let us know also how matters stand with the churches.

TO THE GOVERNOR OF SEBASTEIA. I perceive that your Honor gladly welcomes our letters, and I know the reason.

For being a lover of goodness and ready for beneficence, since we on each occasion furnish you with material capable of receiving the generosity of your disposition, you hasten to our letters as containing occasions for good works.

So now another occasion has come, one able to receive the marks of your dexterity in all things, and at the same time bringing along a herald of your good deeds.

For men who have set out from Alexandria, moved by a necessity fitting and common to the whole nature of mankind, owed to those who have departed, beg for your patronage — that by public decree they be permitted to remove the body of a kinsman who ended his life in Sebasteia during the sojourn of the army, and further that fitting assistance be furnished them from the public post, so that through your generosity some relief may be found for their long wandering.

That these things will pass on even to great Alexandria, and that the wonder of your Honor will there be of service to those there, is plain to your understanding, even should I not say it.

And we, in addition to the many favors we have already received, shall count this favor also among them.

The cause is folly and perversity of character, which pays no heed to the counsels of others, but trusts only its own opinions and the reasonings that occur to it.

And what occurs to them is what they take pleasure in, and what they take pleasure in is what they wish.

But he who considers advantageous whatever he wishes is not a reliable judge of what is just, but is like the blind being led by the blind.

From this he easily stumbles into losses, and has experience as the teacher of what is truly advantageous.

This, then, is the suffering that awaits the man who is joined in partnership with the person now in question.

And lawsuits before magistrates do not bring even victory without loss.

Be a helper, then, O dear friend, above all to both parties in the suit (for this is a pious thing), by preventing their access to the governor and becoming, in his stead, their judge.

But if one of the two disobeys and contests the verdicts, join forces with the one who is wronged, and add your own weight in support of him who seeks to obtain justice.