745 being winged with good things, both to be in our own [places], and to pass our time with you, and we shall consider that all things are moving for us according to the current. B 746 upon [us] being brought—a storm of such magnitude having arisen—neither was anyone able to disturb you nor to harm you in any way; rather, even those who wished to do you evil, against their will, have become the authors of greater praises for you. For which things I ask you to rejoice and exult, and do not cease to pray to God, the one who brings it to perfection and changes it. For He will do it quickly, more than we ask or understand, through His own goodness (Eph. 3:20).
CCXXXIX. From the same to Valerius and Diophantus, priests.
For the most part, it behooved you to write even if I had not written; for such is the law of love: it does not suffer itself to be surpassed, but always strives to overcome those who are loved by the abundance of its affection. Yet, although I myself wrote once and twice, you did not think your letters worthy of being sent, but you kept a silence so long toward a man desiring to receive a snowfall of letters. And I say these things not accusing you—I am not so ignorant of my own measure—but because I am despondent and pained. For by as much as I desire your letters with great excess, by so much the more pain do I endure when I am deprived of them. Do you think that we have need of small consolation, separated from mother and sister, fallen from our fatherland, not being able to see a choir of such sincere friends, dwelling in a wilderness more grievous than any wilderness, besieged by the fear of the Isaurians? C Along with my own matters, I hear daily of the common evils, and how they sprout everywhere in the world, and increase from day to day with additions, and are laboring with certain grievous shipwrecks. Would that it were possible for me to express by word the tyranny of [my] despondency; then, even if we did not speak, you yourselves would have repented of your silence. And furthermore, it grieves me that you do not have recourse to the scarcity of letter-carriers to do this. Which is a sign... but I myself would say nothing harsh, but I leave it to you to know if these things are not of great negligence and of contempt toward us. But I care nothing for this, even if you despise, even if you look down upon our smallness; I seek only this alone, that you may be disposed [to send] the letters of your godliness, which have much consolation. For indeed both one and a second [messenger] have frequently arrived to us, and now my most honorable lord brother, Libanius, and you did not think us worthy of your letters. Do not, I pray, add another grief to my grief. For if, even after this letter, you should not wish to write to us, hindered by sloth or negligence, we shall not cease both to write and, along with writing, to lament and mourn because of your silence. For of this we are masters. D Nor is this a small thing for us in the way of consolation; rather, apart even from this, our greatest comfort is that, as far as the wilderness itself and the ends of the earth (for we are now near the very ends), a bright report of you is being spread abroad, bringing your accomplishments. For everyone proclaims you, admires you, crowns you, calls you blessed for the courage and firmness which you displayed through your works, fulfilling that scriptural [precept]: "Strive even unto death for the truth, and the Lord shall fight for you" (Eccli. 4:33). Lo, therefore, such waves having risen, and such a storm having stirred, neither was anyone able to disturb you nor to harm you in any matter; but even those who wished to do you evil, against their will, became the cause of it. For these things rejoice, I pray, and be glad, and do not cease to supplicate God, the one who brings [it to pass] and changes it. For He will do it quickly, beyond what we ask or understand, through His own goodness.
CCXL. From the same to Castus, priest.
How clearly it shines, and cannot remain hidden, the soul that has fervent love! This has happened in the case of your honor. For even not knowing that we have written to your reverence (although we have written), you yourself have done what was on your part, having written to us, and in this having displayed your sincere disposition, and having filled us with much joy and consolation. In order, therefore, that we may continually enjoy this pleasure and be gladdened, be exhorted to do this continually, whenever [the occasion] may arise. For we know that the matter is difficult, because not everyone easily arrives here; for this is the most desolate place in the world. But nevertheless, to those who love, even difficult things become easy. For if you should wish to be diligent and inquisitive, you will find those arriving from there for personal needs, and in total nothing will be lacking to one seeking on the road. Knowing these things, therefore, my most honorable master, send us frequent letters. For the matter has no difficulty, nor labor, but the joy from it makes us to be winged and becomes a subject of great comfort.
CCXLI. From the same to Cyriacus, priest.
And in this I have wondered at your fervent, sincere, and steadfast love, through which you showed that, not only when we were present, but even when we are absent, you have great regard. For you yourself said that we had not written to your honor, and this was not sufficient to cause you to keep silent; but even having thought that we had been silent, you sent three letters to us. We, however, wrote once, and twice, and thrice, and many times. And both were clearly shown: both your love, not having need of our letters, and our own gratitude. Since, therefore, [you] know how we are disposed toward your honor, that you abound in the capital of good things, in the bond of perfection (Col. 3:14), pour out this joy upon us. For as many letters as we receive, even if they are many in number, we do not receive satiety, because of being strongly disposed toward your honor.
CCXLII. From the same to Chalcidia and Asyncritia.
There is no need for you to make any excuse for not having arrived; for from [my] intention you have arrived to me, and you have nothing less among us than those who have arrived here. Wherefore I also have much thanks for you, knowing your sincere disposition, and for your absence I have much indulgence, both because of bodily infirmity, and the season of the year, and the fear of robbers. Do not, therefore, delay to write to us continually concerning the...