書信集 第 1 章 第 15/32 段

...to seek out what had been omitted, behold, we now write with confidence, and we shall continue writing hereafter, praying the holy God that the recompense for the honor you have shown us may be given to you.

But on behalf of the Church you anticipated our entreaties, having done everything that we ourselves would have asked.

And you do this not to gratify men, but God, who has honored you — who has given you good things in this present life, and will give others in the age to come, in return for your having walked in his way in truth, having kept your heart unswerving in the rectitude of the faith from beginning to end.

TO VICTOR, EX-CONSUL. As often as it is given to us to meet with letters of your excellency, so often do we give thanks to God, because you continue both to remember us, and to diminish, through no slander whatsoever, the love which once, by most upright judgment or by good custom, you were pleased to take up.

We pray, therefore, to the holy God, that you too may continue in the same disposition toward us, and that we may be worthy of the honor you show us through your letter.

TO ASCHOLIUS, MONK AND PRESBYTER. You have done well, both in initiating correspondence with us according to the law of spiritual love, and in summoning us, by your good example, to like zeal.

For indeed the friendship of the world requires eyes and personal encounter,

so that from there the beginning of acquaintance might come about;

but those who know how to love spiritually do not employ the flesh as the go-between of their friendship, but are led to spiritual union through the fellowship of faith.

Thanks, then, be to the Lord, who has comforted our hearts by showing that love has not grown cold in all, but that there are, somewhere in the inhabited world, those who display the mark of discipleship to Christ.

And so it seemed to me that your case resembles stars shining out, here and there, in different parts of the sky amid a cloudy night — whose brightness is delightful, but whose unexpectedness is surely more delightful still.

Such indeed are you also, the luminaries of the Churches — altogether few and easily numbered in this gloomy state of affairs, shining through, as it were, in the murky darkness, possessing, besides the delight that comes from virtue, also the added charm that comes from the rarity of finding you.

Your letter has made your disposition known to us sufficiently.

For although it was small in the number of its syllables, yet by the soundness of its thought it gave us sufficient proof of your resolve.

For your zeal on behalf of the most blessed Athanasius is the clearest proof of being sound in the greatest matters.

In return, then, for the joy your letter brought, we owe much thanks to our most honored son Euphemius, for whom I myself pray that all help may be his from the Holy One; and I ask you to join us in prayer that we may soon receive him back, together with his most decorous wife, our daughter in the Lord.

And be persuaded, you yourself also, not to let your joy stop at its beginnings, but by every occasion that presents itself to write, and to increase your disposition toward us through frequent correspondence, and to inform us how matters stand with the Churches under you, in accordance with our agreement; and to pray concerning affairs here, so that great calm may come to us as well, our Lord having rebuked the wind and the sea.

In answering the many charges written in the letter — the first and only one — which your nobility deemed worthy to send us, I am at a loss, not for lack of a just defense, but because, amid the multitude of accusations brought forward, it is difficult to choose which are the more pressing, and from which we ought first to begin our remedy;

or perhaps because, following the order in which they were written, we should meet each one methodically in turn.

Those setting out from here for Scythia we have not, up to this day, come to know;

nor did any of our household remind us, so that we might send greetings through them, although we make it a matter of great concern to address your honor on every occasion.

But to forget you in our prayers is impossible, unless we should first forget the work to which the Lord has appointed us.

For you surely remember, being faithful by the grace of God, the proclamations of the Church — that we make supplication also for the brothers who are away on journeys, and for those tested in military campaigns, and for those who speak boldly for the name of the Lord, and we offer our prayers for those who display spiritual fruits in the holy Church;

among whom, whether reckoned by the occasions or included among all, we believe your honor too is comprehended.

But how could we personally forget you, having so many things that move us to remembrance — such a niece, such nephews, kinsfolk so good and so loving toward us, a household, servants, friends — from whom, even if we should not wish it, we are of necessity reminded of your good resolve? Now concerning this matter, brother So-and-so has brought us nothing burdensome, nor has any judgment injurious to him been issued by us.

Turn, then, your grief against those who related falsehoods, releasing both the chorepiscopus and myself from all blame.

But if the advocate So-and-so is pursuing some lawsuit, he has public courts and laws.

I ask, then, that you have no blame on this account.

Whatever good deeds you yourself do, you are storing up as treasure for yourself; and the relief you provide to those persecuted for the name of the Lord, this too you are preparing beforehand for yourself against the day of recompense.

You will do well also if you send relics of martyrs to your homeland, if indeed, as you have written to us, the persecution there is even now making martyrs for the Lord.

TO EVAGRIUS, PRESBYTER. So far was I from being vexed at the length of the letter that it even seemed short to me, on account of the pleasure of reading it.

For what report is sweeter to hear than the name of peace, or what more befitting a priest, and more pleasing to the Lord, than to take counsel for such things? May the Lord, then, grant you the reward of peacemaking, since you have so nobly resolved and so earnestly applied yourself to a matter so blessed.

But as for us, honored friend, consider that, so far as our resolve and prayer to see one day that day on which all who are not divided from one another in mind may fill the same assembly, we yield first place to no one in this earnest endeavor.

For indeed we would truly be the most absurd of all men, if we took delight in the schisms and rendings of the Churches, and did not reckon the union of the members of the body of Christ as the greatest of goods.

Yet know that, however great our desire remains, our power falls just as far short.

For your perfect understanding is not ignorant that maladies strengthened by time require, first, time for their correction, and then a strong and more vigorous treatment, if one is to reach their depth so as to remove, root and branch, the sicknesses of those who are ailing.

You know what I mean, and, if I must speak more plainly, there is no fear in doing so.

...once it has taken root, no single man is able to remove it, nor a single letter, nor a short time.

For it is impossible for suspicions and the frictions arising from disputes to be utterly removed, unless some trustworthy person mediates for peace.

And if the gifts of grace flowed upon us abundantly, and we were powerful, both in word and deed and in spiritual gifts, to overawe those who are opposed, we ought to have made bold to undertake so great a matter.

But perhaps not even then would you have advised us to undertake the correction alone, since there is, by the grace of God, a bishop, to whom the care of the Church belongs in the first place;

who is unable himself to come to us, while for us, meanwhile, to travel is not easy on account of the winter — rather, altogether impossible — not only because my body has grown weary from long illness, but also because, a little later, the crossings of the Armenian mountains become impassable even for those in the full vigor of youth.

But I shall not refuse to signify these things to him by letter.

I do not, however, expect that anything of note will result from the letter, judging both from the man's exactness and from the very nature of letters, since a message sent in writing is not naturally capable of clearly overawing.

For much must be said, and much must be heard in reply, and the objections that arise must be resolved, and the underlying suspicions countered — none of which the written word can do, lying idle and lifeless, scattered on the paper.

Nevertheless, as I said, I will not shrink from writing.

Know, however, most truly reverent and greatly longed-for brother, that, by the grace of God, I have no personal quarrel against anyone.

For I have not busied myself to find out the charges for which each person either is, or is called, liable.

So it is fitting that you attend to our mind in this way: as of one who is able to do nothing out of partiality, and who has not been forestalled into slander against anyone.

Only, would that it might be the good pleasure of the Lord that everything be done in a churchly and orderly manner.

And yet what had been discussed between us was not of this sort, if I remember anything.

But as for the brothers from that place, if any one of them chooses to undertake the labor on behalf of the Churches, he clearly knows both to whom he will go, and for what purpose, and by whom he is to be furnished with letters, and letters of what sort.

For I, looking around on every side, see no one with me.

And I pray to be numbered among the seven thousand who have not bent the knee to Baal.

Yet those who lay their hands on everyone are seeking our life too.

Not, however, on this account will we fall short at all in the diligence owed to the Churches of God.

TO ANTIOCHUS. How grievously, do you suppose, did I bear having missed meeting with you during the summer? And yet not even our meeting with the others was such as to bring us to satiety; still, even to see in a dream the things one longs for brings some consolation to those who love.

But you do not even write, you are so indolent, that I cannot but attribute your absence to any other cause rather than to your being sluggish about journeys undertaken for love's sake.

But let this matter rest for us here.

Pray for us, and entreat the Lord not to abandon us, but, just as he brought us through the trials that have already come upon us, so also to deliver us from those we anticipate, unto the glory of his name, in which we have set our hope.

Since my sins have stood in opposition to me, so that I have not been able to bring to fulfillment the longstanding desire I had of meeting with you, I console myself for this separation, at least, by letter.

And we exhort you not to cease remembering us in your prayers, so that, if we live, we may be counted worthy to enjoy your company, but if not, through the help of your prayers we may depart from this world with good hope.

We commend to you the brother who is in charge of the camels.

TO EUPATERIUS AND HIS DAUGHTER. How much joy the letter of your good and orderly character brought me, you yourself can surely conjecture from what has been written.

For what could be sweeter to a man engaged in prayer, always conversing with those who fear God, and sharing in the profit that comes from them, than such letters, through which the knowledge of God is sought?

For if for us to live is Christ, then consequently our speech too ought to be concerning Christ, and our thought and every practice ought to depend upon his commandments, and our soul ought to be conformed to his likeness.

I rejoice, then, to be asked about such matters, and I rejoice together with those who ask.

For us, then, in a word, the faith of the Fathers who assembled at Nicaea has been preferred above all those devised afterward, in which the Son is confessed to be consubstantial with the Father, being of the same nature as him who begot him.

For 'Light from Light,' and 'God from God,' and 'Good from Good,' and all such things were confessed by those holy men, and are attested also by us now, who pray to walk in their footsteps.

But since the question now raised by those who are ever attempting some innovation—passed over in silence by the ancients on account of its being beyond dispute—has been left unformulated (I mean, of course, the matter concerning the Holy Spirit), we add our word concerning this, following the sense of Scripture: that as we are baptized, so we believe; and as we believe, so we give glory.

Since, then, baptism has been given to us by the Savior into the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, we render a confession of faith that corresponds to baptism, and likewise a doxology that corresponds to the faith, glorifying together with the Father and the Son the Holy Spirit, being convinced that he is not alien to the divine nature.

For that which is estranged in nature would not share in the same honors.

As for those who say the Holy Spirit is a creature, we pity them, as falling, through such an utterance, into the unpardonable ruin of blasphemy against him.

For that creation is distinguished from divinity requires no argument for those who have been trained even a little in the Scriptures.

For creation is in servitude, but the Spirit sets free;

creation stands in need of life, the Spirit is that which gives life;

creation has need of teaching, the Spirit is that which teaches;

creation is sanctified, the Spirit is that which sanctifies.

Whether you speak of angels, or archangels, or all the supramundane powers, it is through the Spirit that they receive their holiness.

But the Spirit itself possesses holiness by nature, not having received it as a grace, but as consubstantial with itself;

whence also it has, in a special way, obtained the appellation of 'Holy.'

That, then, which is holy by nature—just as the Father is holy by nature and the Son is holy by nature—we do not permit ourselves to separate or divide from the divine and blessed Trinity, nor do we accept those who readily number it together with creation.

Let these things, as it were in summary, be said sufficiently to your piety.

For from small seeds you will, with the cooperation of the Holy Spirit, cultivate the greater part of piety.

As for the present, grant pardon to this brevity.

Nor would I have written at all in the first place, had I not judged it a greater harm altogether to refuse the request, than to grant it imperfectly.

He indeed, when asked by someone whether it was lawful for him to take in marriage the sister of his wife who had died, did not shudder at the question, but bore the hearing of it calmly, and most readily and zealously cooperated with him in his licentious desire.

Now if the letter were with me, I would have sent it itself, and it would have sufficed for you both to defend yourself and to defend the truth.

But since the one who had shown it took it back again, and paraded it about as though it were some trophy against us—since we had forbidden this from the beginning—claiming that he holds the authority in writing, I have now written to you, so that we might come against that spurious argument with a doubled hand, and leave it no strength, that it may not easily be able to harm those who happen upon it.

First, then—and this is the most important point in such matters—there is the custom prevailing among us, which we are accustomed to put forward as having the force of law, because these ordinances have been handed down to us by holy men:

if anyone, overcome at some time by the passion of impurity, falls into an unlawful union with two sisters, this is not to be regarded as marriage at all, nor is he to be received into the fullness of the Church, before the two are separated from one another.

So that, even if nothing further could be said, the custom alone would suffice as a safeguard against this evil.

But since the one who wrote the letter attempted, by a spurious argument, to introduce so great an evil into life, it is necessary that we too should not withhold the aid that comes from reasoned argument;

and yet, in matters that are exceedingly clear, the presumption already held in each person's mind is stronger than any argument.

"It is written," he says, "in Leviticus:"

To this I shall say, first of all, that whatever the Law states, it states to those who are under the Law, since otherwise we would also be subject to circumcision, and the Sabbath, and abstinence from certain foods.

For surely we shall not, if we find something that coincides with our own pleasures, subject ourselves to the yoke of the Law's servitude;

while if something among its precepts appears burdensome, then we flee to the freedom that is in Christ.

We were asked whether it is written that one may take a wife in addition to her sister.

We said—what is safe and true for us to say—that it is not written.

But to reason out, by consequent inference, what has been passed over in silence, is the part of one who is legislating, not of one who is merely stating what the law says; since otherwise it would be possible for anyone who wished to be so bold as even to take the sister while the wife is still living.

For this very same sophistry applies equally to that case.

"You shall not take a rival wife"—as though it had not forbidden taking one apart from rivalry.

He who thus pleads on behalf of this passion will determine that the disposition between the sisters is free of rivalry.

The cause, then, on account of which he forbade the cohabitation of both being thus removed, what will there be to prevent one from taking the sisters? But this is not written, we shall say.

But the sense of the consequent inference gives license equally to both cases.

One ought, however, to have run back a little to what precedes in the legislation, and so have been freed from these difficulties.

For it seems that the lawgiver does not comprehend every kind of sin, but forbids specifically the practices of the Egyptians, from among whom Israel departed, and those of the Canaanites, to whom they are removing.

"According to the practices of the land of Egypt, in which you dwelt, you shall not do;"

"and according to the practices of the land there, you shall not do, and you shall not walk in their ordinances." So that this kind of sin was, it seems, not then prevalent among the nations;

wherefore the lawgiver had no need to add a special guard against it, but was content with the untaught custom to condemn the abomination.

How then, having forbidden the greater, did he pass over the lesser in silence? Because it seemed that, for many who are lovers of the flesh, the example of the patriarch would harm them with respect to cohabiting with living sisters.

But what must we do? State only what is written, or work out further what has been passed over in silence? For instance, that a father and son ought not to make use of the same concubine is not written in these laws, yet it has been judged worthy of the greatest condemnation by the Prophet.

"For son and father," he says, "went in to the same maidservant." But how many other kinds of impure passions has the school of the demons devised, while the divine Scripture has passed over them in silence, unwilling to sully its own dignity with the names of shameful things, but has condemned impurities by generic terms instead? As also the apostle Paul says:

"But fornication and all uncleanness, let it not even be named among you, as is fitting for saints"—comprehending under the term "uncleanness" both the unspeakable acts of males and those of females.

So that silence does not, in every case, grant license to those who love pleasure.

But I say that this matter has not even been passed over in silence at all, but that the lawgiver has forbidden it very emphatically.

For the words, "You shall not go in to any near kinswoman of your flesh, to uncover their nakedness," are all-inclusive, and comprehend this kind of kinship as well.

For what could be nearer of kin to a man than his own wife—or rather, than his own flesh? For they are no longer two, but one flesh.

So that, through the wife, the sister passes into kinship with the husband.

For just as he will not take the mother of his wife, nor the daughter of his wife, because he may not take his own mother, nor his own daughter, so also he will not take the sister of his wife, because he may not take his own sister.

And this, conversely, holds also for the wife: she will not be permitted to cohabit with the kinsmen of the husband.

For the rights of kinship are common to both parties.

But I testify to everyone who is deliberating about marriage, that the form of this world is passing away, and the time has been shortened, so that even those who have wives should be as though they had none.

But if someone reads back to me the words, "Increase and multiply," I laugh at him for not distinguishing the times proper to each of the legislations.

A second marriage is a remedy for fornication, not a provision for licentiousness.

"If they cannot exercise self-control, let them marry," he says;

but let them not, even in marrying, transgress the law.

But there are those who do not even look to nature—those who blear their soul with the passion of dishonor, the soul that long ago distinguished the appellations of kinship.

By what kinship will they call the children born of this union? Will they call one another brothers, or cousins? For either term will fit them, on account of the confusion.

Do not, O man, make the aunt a stepmother to the little ones, nor arm her, who ought to cherish them in a mother's place, with implacable jealousies.

For the hatred of stepmothers alone pursues its enmity even after death.

Nay rather, other enemies make peace with the dead, but stepmothers begin their hatred only after death.

The sum of what has been said is this: if he is impelled toward this marriage by law, then the whole world lies open to him;

but if his eagerness for it is passionate, then for this very reason let him be all the more shut out from it, that he may learn to possess his own vessel in sanctification, not in the passion of lust.

Though I am eager to say more, the proper limit of a letter restrains me.

But I pray either that our exhortation may prove stronger than the passion, or that this abomination may never visit our region, but remain confined to whatever places it has already been dared.

Blessed be God, who in every generation chooses those who are well-pleasing to Him, and knows the vessels of His choosing, and employs them for the ministry of the saints; who even now, when you were fleeing—as you yourself say—not from us, but from the calling expected through us, has caught you in the inescapable nets of grace and brought you into the midst of Pisidia, that you might catch men alive for the Lord and draw up from the depths into the light those who had been taken captive by the devil to do his will.

Asses are lost, that a king may arise for Israel.

But whereas he, being an Israelite, was given to Israel, you the land that nurtured you and raised you to such a height of virtue does not possess, but instead sees her neighbor adorned with what is her own ornament.

But since all who have hoped in Christ are one people, and those who belong to Christ are now one Church, even though it is called by different places, our homeland too rejoices and is glad in the dispensations of the Lord, and does not consider that it has lost one man, but rather that through one man it has gained whole churches.

May the Lord only grant that, whether present we may see, or absent we may hear of, your progress in the Gospel and the good order of the churches.

Be manly, then, and be strong, and go before the people whom the Most High has entrusted to your right hand.

And as a wise pilot at the helm, rising above every storm stirred up by heretical spirits, keep your judgment aloft, and preserve the ship unswamped by the salty and bitter waves of false doctrine, awaiting the calm which the Lord will bring, when a voice shall be found worthy to rouse Him to rebuke the winds and the sea.

But if you wish to visit us, who are now driven by long illness toward our necessary departure, wait neither for a fitting time nor for a summons from us, knowing that for a father's heart every occasion is fitting to embrace a beloved child, and that the disposition of the soul is better than any words.

But do not lament over a burden that exceeds your strength.

For if you alone were the one destined to bear this load, even then it would not be heavy, but altogether bearable.

But since it is the Lord who shares the burden with you: "Cast your care upon the Lord, and He will act." Only be exhorted to guard this one thing in everything: not to conform yourself to base customs, but by the wisdom given you by God, to transform what has been wrongly assumed into something useful.

For Christ sent you not to follow after others, but yourself to lead those who are being saved.

And we beg you to pray for us, that if we are still in this life, we may be counted worthy to see you together with your church;

but if we are at last commanded to depart, may we see you there in the presence of the Lord—her, flourishing like a vine in good works, and you, as a wise husbandman and good servant, giving to your fellow servants their portion of food in due season, receiving the reward of a faithful and prudent steward.

All who are with us greet your Piety.

May you be strong and of good cheer in the Lord, held in good repute for the gifts of the Spirit, and may you be kept safe in wisdom.

TO EUSEBIUS, BISHOP OF SAMOSATA. This same thing seems to me both to produce a reluctance to write, and again to show itself necessary.

For when I look to my own obligation to visit you in person, and reckon the benefit of meeting face to face, I am altogether inclined to disregard letters, as unable to fulfill even the semblance of a shadow in comparison with the truth.

But when again I consider that, having failed of the greatest and first thing, it is the sole consolation to address so great a man in writing, and to entreat him, as is my custom, not to forget us in his prayers, then I am led to judge the matter of letters as no small thing.

As for the hope of your coming, I myself do not wish to cast it from my soul, nor do I wish your Piety to despair of it.

For I would be ashamed if I did not show, through your prayers, such confidence as even to become young again from being old, should there be need of it—let alone becoming a little stronger from being weak and altogether failing, such as I now am.

As for the reasons why I am not already present, it is not easy to state them in words, being hindered not only by my present weakness, but never having possessed such power of speech as would clearly set forth so manifold and varied an illness.

Except that, from the day of Pascha until now, fevers, diarrhea, and disorders of the bowels, like waves overwhelming me, do not permit me to rise above them.

But what my present condition is, and of what sort, our brother Barachus could tell you—not indeed adequately to the truth, but at least so far as to bear witness to the cause of the matter.

But I am altogether persuaded that, if you would pray for us sincerely, all our difficulties would easily be resolved.

TO JOVINUS THE COUNT. I have seen your soul in your letter.

For indeed no painter can capture the outward form of a body so exactly as speech can portray the hidden secrets of the soul.

For indeed the speech in your letter has adequately portrayed to us the steadfastness of your character, the truthfulness of your honor, and the timeliness of your judgment in all things;

whence it also afforded us great consolation for your absence.

Do not, then, cease to make use of whatever occasion presents itself to write, and to grant us this converse from afar, since the weakness of my body now makes me despair of conversing with you face to face.

How great this weakness is, the most God-beloved bishop Amphilochius will tell you, who came to know it by having been with us for a longer time, and who is able in speech to set forth what he has witnessed.

I wish my own difficulties to be made known for no other reason than to obtain your pardon for the future, so that I may not be condemned for negligence, should I happen to fall short in visiting you.

And yet this loss stands in need not so much of an apology as of consolation.

For if it were possible to be together with your Reverence, I would have set this far above all the things that others eagerly pursue for themselves.