well-distanced, yet we hold your sweet, fervent, and sincere love as our greatest delight.
CXXXV. To Theodotus the Deacon.
I am not unaware, for my part, that you would have long been with us had not the fear of the Isaurians walled off the path. For one who endured to run hither when all things were freezing with cold and such heavy snow, would much more have been unwilling to remain there once spring had appeared and there was so much calm in the air. I know the sweetness, the gentleness, and the fervor of your disposition, its sincerity, and your soul, which is filled with great nobility. Therefore, I do not grieve without cause that, in this mildest season of the year, you cause us no small winter of despondency by being separated from us for so long. And I say this not in order to drag you here, even if you yourself wished it a thousand times (for all things have been filled with many wars, A and one might say this through those arriving here from that place), but so that you may know that even we, though we enjoy much silence and lack of business, cannot be without sorrow here while separated from your honor; and having learned this, you may write to us constantly, not only through those coming here from your side, but also through those who happen to be on the road and arriving here. We owe you great thanks, my most honorable master, both for your care and for the concern you have for the disturbances here. For the siege here intensifies with every day, and we sit in this fortress as though in a trap. Indeed, even in the middle of the night, against all hope and expectation, a band of three hundred Isaurians B raided the city and nearly captured us as well. But the hand of God quickly turned them away, even without our perceiving it, so that we escaped not only the dangers but even the fear, and only when day broke did we learn what had occurred. Because of this, rejoice and be glad, and do not cease beseeching God that He may place us in total safety and deliver us from the illness that hangs over us. For even if we have been freed from being in danger, still, remnants of the illness remain for us, constantly reminding us of the sickness. We have written these things not to cause you grief, but so as to stir you up more earnestly to offer prayers on our behalf. I entrust my most honorable lord, the reader Theodotus, to your piety, so that you may, as far as possible, become a harbor to him in all things. For there are many things, as we realize, that cause him grief.
CXXXVI. To Theodotus the Reader.
Do not weary yourself seeking an apology for your quick departure from here, taking refuge in your eye ailment and the cold, and attributing your departure to these things. For we count you as present, and as being with us no less than before, according to the principle of love, and we expect that we shall one day enjoy the sight of you face to face. C Let none of these things disturb you. For even if the winter led you away to Armenia, it did not cast you out of our soul, but we carry you in our mind continuously. And if the war of the Isaurians had not walled off every road and placed us in a scarcity of those to carry our letters, we would have sent you frequent snowfalls of epistles. Now, indeed, we have kept silent with our tongue for the time that has passed, but never with our intention; rather, we are always concerned for you and your affairs, and, for our part, we have written constantly. Knowing this, then, consider that you are with us, and that you are spending time with us in Armenia. And if anyone tries to plot against you and do you harm, become higher than the arrows from these things; since it is not suffering harm, but doing harm, that is truly suffering harm. For we admire you even more for this very reason, and we praise your steadfastness and your bravery, in that even when such a storm is splashing over you, you stand higher, having become superior to the disturbances from these things. Remain, then, with much pleasure, sailing this calm and waveless sea. And do not be surprised if I call the sea "waveless" while you are mindful of many plots. For I do not bring this verdict from the intention of those who disturb, but from the quietness according to virtue. And what is it that I say? This great and lofty life, which is stretched toward heaven, seems in the nature of things to be difficult, but through the bravery and zeal of those who pursue it, it becomes extremely easy. And this is the most wonderful thing about this philosophy, D that when the sea is raging, one who pursues it genuinely and fervently sails with power and with much calm; and, that while many disturbances are rising from everywhere, he harvests pure silence, and while ten thousand arrows are being sent from everywhere, he stands unwounded, receiving the javelins but suffering nothing from them. Knowing these things, then, and continuously philosophizing in these matters, harvest the unfading pleasure, awaiting the crowns that are laid up for you by God for these noble labors; and write to us constantly, when you are able, declaring things about your health and the state of your soul and body; and spend all your leisure time on the reading of the divine Scriptures, as much as specifically the weakness of your eyes permits, so that if ever a fair opportunity comes for us to instill their insights into your noble soul, we may do so with much ease. For the knowing of the letters contained therein will be able to contribute not a little to this, whenever you are about to receive the insights in them.
CXXXVII. To Theodotus the Deacon.
Cease accusing us of tardiness, lest you find yourself trapped by the charge. For you have received as many letters from us as you have sent, and except for one, you have received them like a snowfall of writings; you have spoken thus, thinking to rouse us to writing by at least your persistence. It is possible to love even without writing; however, I did not cease writing, and...