THE EPISTLES OF THE MOST BLESSED THEOPHYLACT, ARCHBISHOP OF BULGARIA
EPISTLES XX
Interpreted by Bonifacio Finetti of the Order of Preachers.
I. — Without a name. A
That man is no longer the same; he denies again. I have not yet ascended to Achrida, and yet, unhappy in my affections, I already desire the city that holds you. For from afar a certain lethal breath has reached me, such as truly exhales from the Plutonian chasms. To Empedocles, then, victory brings forth heads deprived of necks; but this principacy of infidelity has poured forth thousands upon thousands of necks without heads. For who of the Achridians is not a neck without a head, knowing how to revere neither God nor man? I, however, have been condemned to dwell with such monsters. And, what is more grievous, there is no hope that these necks will ever be joined to a head, or to any superior virtue; just as, otherwise, the love of the aforementioned wise man of Agrigentum brought imperfect heads to perfection. But for me the wings of better hopes have completely fallen away; and the eagle whose seat is upon the scepter of Jove now walks on foot—alas!—and sticks fast in the mire, and drags out its life with frogs. These, regarding it as also bothersome to themselves, and it being unworthy of the fortune they enjoy if they do not insult the bird of Jove in every way, climb up onto its back, as they are filled with mud and stench; and while climbing, they cry out something dissonant and inharmonious, worthy, of course, of their muddy souls. They seem, then, to be singing some kind of triumphal paean. Yet for the eagle, neither the beak nor the sharpness of the talons has been dulled, but it still has the power to tear and to rend flesh. But considering it a greater injury brought upon itself if it should take notice, and C of the insults of those others by looking only at the rays of the sun, steadily and clearly, and as it were to its own eyes B nature has fitted each...
LETTERS XX FROM VATICAN CODEX
and it befits him—whoever this sun may be—to be made a witness of the suffering; and to be indignant is for him to feel shame, and to show it a thing of resentment that such things should be trifled with by such persons. And then, O most philosophical and most gracious of men, by the pure rays of this sun, which it itself irradiates daily, and by which you yourself—who beget eagle-like chicks—are illuminated: does the eagle, A which suffers such insults, desire in vain to live with you, the blessed ones, where the sky is spread out in greatest serenity and cloudless, having been snatched away from the mud and the mire? I do not think, you will say, that you would be condemned to the swamp of evils here, and to the frogs born of it. Nor, in fact, do I have anything else that I might imprecate upon you that is more painful than the habitual gout. Do I seem to you to be dallying in my delights, while I play in such a way? Yet, by the Word, you fill me with so many graces, and you so soothe me and are remembered in the very letters to you, that this very thing is signaled, and I am released from all sorrow at that time, and carried toward your graces with ease, B by other graces. But may God, the true giver of grace, one day grant me complete release from the evils here, or consolation, and to you a perfect deliverance from the implacable beast, or rest. For we are not the only ones to have swerved from the path that leads according to Him, nor is it to us alone that He has dealt the undiluted cup of the fall.
II. — To John, Sebastos, brother of the Augusta.
Who, my most revered protector, would have given me leisure for words, as much as is my desire, so that I might adapt my tongue to the glory of your noble exploit? Who would have assembled for me a chorus of rhetoricians, so that, having become the leader of them, as I once was, and having given them the theme of the melody, I might perform C the oratorical dance together with them? For you are the "Helper in tribulations" which have found us too much; you have been revealed to us by Him who sent help to you "from the sanctuary," and fortified you. You "crushed the heads of the dragons upon the waters"; you have broken the head of the dragon; and although it may still stir its tail with life, and seem to live to those who do not judge rightly, we, however, who have received from you—you who have received "the power to tread upon all the power of the enemy"—the gift of life, laugh at him who "boasts up to the measureless," and said: "By my hand I shall seize the whole world, and I shall blot out the sea, and take away all as if they were abandoned eggs." But truly, "You did not forsake those who seek You, O Lord." "You looked down from heaven and saw the sons of the dead, and had pity on us," and upon the "son of man, whom You strengthened for Yourself, and upon the man" whom You sent forth at Your right hand; and You multiplied Your magnificence upon the August D.
and teaching his hands for war, and his fingers for battle, thou hast broken the arms of the sinner; and having broken the iron bars, thou hast brought forth the prisoners with strength; and thou hast said to the iniquitous, "Do not behave iniquitously," and to those who provoke to anger, "Do not lift up the horn." A But you see, O most august one, how the gifts of God which are in you are to be hymned with the very words of God, as far as is possible; since it is not fitting that things which are superior to man be diminished by human eloquence. Continue, therefore, to imitate the divine goodness, and never desire evil for anyone, but rather exercise your beneficence toward all, especially toward those whom you pitied from the beginning, such as we are. You will certainly confer the highest benefit upon us if you deign to embrace our kinsmen and relatives in Euripus with your kindness, and make it manifest to all who are in Greece that the archbishop is considered by you, the most august helper of all, as worthy of some greater consideration. Fulfill, therefore, my joy by helping them in all things; and may God exalt and glorify you more and more, you who by your own goodness glorify Him daily in return: and your enemies shall lick the dust. B
III. — To Machetarius.
If C God is love, as the beloved disciple of Christ taught by divine inspiration, I rightly judge that letters which proceed from love are not a descent from God, but an ascent to God; and that they are that ladder which Jacob saw, having the words of union in place of the angels, and above all, or rather before all, the Lord resting upon it. Therefore, you ought not to attribute the reason for my not writing to a desire to preserve the union with the better good that is inviolate; but rather, knowing that by how much the more firmly we bind the love between us with such conversations as we are able to have, by so much the more are we joined to God, use my letters for this purpose: that it may at some time be said that there is a golden chain hanging from heaven between us, which conveys back to me your own writings, bestowing them upon those who ascend by it. For in such barbarian regions there is no one who wishes to teach me any good thing; and any small flow of wisdom that descends to us seems to be the very fountain of nectar. Wherefore, I beseech you, do not suffer us hereafter to be parched in this desert, untrodden, and waterless land; for of such a kind is that to which we have been condemned, even though we appear D to the common people to be blessed and glorious. And indeed I am reckoned blessed in the marketplace, but when I open my doors, I am most unhappy. And these things, indeed, I have never ceased to lament; yet I have not hitherto attained any consolation. For thus, I believe, it has pleased the true Consoler, that His descent to us should be deferred for a while, so that He may either test our affection, or show us not worthy of His grace; as for those who are the genuine associates of Christ, you know that even...
tῆς ἐλπίδος θάττον ἐπέπνευσεν. Εφ' οἷς δέ με ἠξί- A ωσας, ἀνάσχου μικρὰ νουθετηθῆναι ὁ πολλοῖς νο- μοθετῶν· ἐπειδὴ καὶ τοῦτο σοφία, μέτρα γινώσκειν τελούσης καὶ τελουμένης τάξεως. Μὴ θέλε πρὸς τὰ θεῖα παρεμβάλλειν σαυτόν, μηδ' ἀνθρώπου ψυ-χῆς εἶναι δοκιμαστής, ζώου φύσει εὐμεταβόλου, κατὰ τὸν σὸν εἰπεῖν Πλάτωνα· ἀλλὰ τὸ μέχρι τούτων ἔσο φίλος, τὸ δ' ἐνδοτέρων βλέπε καπνῷ καὶ πυρὶ σκε-πόμενον, καὶ τῇ φλογίνῃ ῥομφαίᾳ δορυφορούμενον. ᾿Αλλὰ βαβαὶ σοῦ τῆς φιλοσόφου ψυ-χῆς! ὡς ἐδέξω τὴν νουθεσίαν, ὡς ἠρυθρίασας, ὡς ηὐ-λαλήθης τὰ θεῖα, ὡς ἔφριξας! Οὕτως οὖν ἔχε, καὶ τηροίη σε Κύριος πάσης κακύνσεως ἀνώτερον καὶ κακώσεως.
Δ'. — Τῷ πατριάρχῃ.
Πῶς ἐτόλμησας, φαίη ἄν τις, πρὸς τὸν δεσπότην παῤῥησιάσασθαι, ἄνθρωπος τοσούτων ἐνιαυτῶν τὰ σαυτοῦ χείλη τῇ φυλακῇ τῆς σιωπῆς ἐκκλεισάμενος, καὶ μηδὲν μή μικρόν, μὴ μέγα τῷ εὐεργέτῃ φθεγξάμενος, ὃν ἔδει στόματι, καὶ πνεύματι, καὶ γράμματι κατασπάζεσθαι, καὶ διὰ πάντων ὡς ἔνεστιν ἁγιάζεσθαι; ὅτι τοι μὴ δεσπότης μόνον, ἀλλὰ καὶ πατὴρ, καὶ πατέρων οἰκειότατος καὶ φιλοστοργώτατος. Εἴπερ ἐγὼ μὲν ἡ ψυχή, ταύτην δέ μοι ὁ πατριάρχης ἐκτήσατό τε, καὶ ἔπλασε κτίσιν καὶ πλᾶσιν ἡμερινὴν καὶ σωτήριον, καὶ πρός γε ὅτι μετριοπαθεῖν ταῖς ἡμετέραις ἀσθενείαις, καὶ φύσιν ἔχει καὶ ἄσκησιν. Τάχα μὲν καὶ αὐτὸς πει-ρασθεὶς, καὶ μαθών, ἐξ ὧν ἔπαθε, τὰ ἡμέτερα, ἵνα μὴ λέγω τι πλέον (εἰ γὰρ ἐν τῷ ὑγρῷ ξύλῳ τοιαῦτα γέγονεν, ἐν τῷ ξηρῷ τί οὐ δράσουσι ;)· τάχα δὲ καὶ τῷ μεγαλείῳ τοῦ νοῦ περιλαμβάνων ἃ μὴ αὐτοπαθήσας, ἐπέγνωκεν. Οὐ γὰρ ἀγνοεῖ τοὺς (φεῦ! C πῶς ἂν εἴπω ;) τῶν ἀρχιερατευόντων νῦν σκόλοπας, καὶ τὰς ἀκάνθας, αἷς ἐμπαγείσαις, εἰς ταλαιπωρίαν ἐστράφημεν· ὅτε οὐρανῷ μὲν στηρίζει τὴν κεφαλήν ἡ τῶν ἁμαρτωλῶν καύχησις, χήραν καὶ ὀρφανὸν ἀποκτιννύντων, καὶ φονευόντων πάντα καὶ ἀγενῆ καὶ προσήλυτον. Οὐκ ἔστι δὲ ὁ βοηθῶν, ἢ ὁ ἐξαι-ρούμενος· ἀλλ᾽ ἄγεται καὶ φέρεται πάντα, μὴ ὄν-τος λυτρουμένου μηδὲ σώζοντος· καὶ ἐμπαῖκται μὲν ἡμῶν κυριεύσουσιν. Οἱ πράκτορες δὲ ἡμῶν καλαμῶνται τὰ τομώτερα δρεπάνου κατάλοιπα. Πάν-τες ἡμῖν ἐφιστάμενοι νεώτεροι τὴν ἡλικίαν ὁμοῦ καὶ τὸ φρόνημα, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὴν ἀδικίαν ἀεὶ νεώτεροι, οὐ γηρῶντες, ἢ παρακμάζοντες, ἀλλ᾽ ἑκάστοτε πλεον-εξίας εἶδος προσεξευρίσκοντες, καὶ τὸ στρεβλὸν πνεῦ-μα τοῖς ἐγκάτοις αὐτῶν ἐγκαινίζοντες, καὶ μήτε νουθεσίαις, μήτε φόδῳ ἀνθρώπων ἀνακοπτόμε-νοι, ἀλλὰ πρός τι κραταιότερον ἀφορῶντες, ᾧ τὴν κακίαν εὑρύνται καὶ τὴν ἀδικίαν ἀνατρέφονται, καὶ ῥωννύονται. Κάν τις βασιλέως ἐπιμνησθῇ, καὶ
καὶ A τῆς μαχαίρας, ἣν εἰς φόβον τῶν κακοποιῶν ἐκ Θεοῦ φορεῖ, καταγελῶσιν ἑώλου τοῦ λόγου, καὶ τοῦ λέγοντος καταδιῶσιν εὐήθειαν· μὴ εἰδότες ὡς πάλαι ταύτην αὐτοῖς ἀμβλείαν πεποίηκεν ἡ ὑπόκρισις. Ἤδη δὲ καὶ τὴν περιεργίαν τούτου βαρέως ἀντιπερι-σπᾶν μηχανώμενοι, ἰδίας αὐτῶν συμφορὰς τεκταί-νουσιν, ἵνα μὴ σχολάζων ἀπὸ τῶν οἰκείων εὖ κειμέ-νων, περιεργάζηται τὰ ἀλλότρια, καὶ ὥσπερ τι ῥεῦμα παρασύρον αὐτοὺς ἀνθελκύοντες, μετοχετεύ-ουσιν ἄλλοθεν. Καὶ οὕτως ἄγουσι στησάμενοι τρό-παιον, καὶ ἐγκαυχῶνται ἐν κακίᾳ οἱ δυνατοὶ, καὶ οἱ σοφοὶ τοῦ κακοποιεῖν. Οὕτω τὴν τοῦ Θεοῦ μοῖ-ραν κατασοφίζονται, μονονουχὶ καὶ αὐτοὶ κατὰ τὸν Φαραὼ λέγοντες· «Σχολάζετε, σχολασταί ἐστε, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ἑορτὴν ἐπινοεῖτε τῷ λαῷ καὶ ἀνάπαυσιν.» B Ἐντεῦθεν ἔργα βαρύτερα καὶ ἐργοδιῶκται πικρό-τεροι, καὶ κληρικοὶ μὲν γυμνούμενοι καὶ τραχηλιζό-μενοι, πάροικοι δὲ ἀριθμούμενοί τε καὶ ἐξονυχιζόμε-νοι, καὶ γῆ διαμετρουμένη τοῖς τῆς ψύλλης πηδή-μασιν, ἵν’ ἡμῖν ὄντως νῦν ἀκάνθας καὶ τριβόλους ἐξανατέλλῃ· καὶ πάντα ἐρευνώμενα καὶ ζυγοστα-τούμενα, ἄχρι μερισμοῦ σαρκῶν καὶ ὀστέων ἱκνούμενα τῆς ἀλογίας ταύτης, καὶ ὁ τῶν νεφρῶν καὶ καρδιῶν ἐτασμὸς Θεῷ νῦν κοινούμενος πρὸς τοὺς πράκτορας, ἵνα μηδέν τι πλέον ἔχῃ τῶν «κοσμοκρατόρων» ὁ παντοκράτωρ, μηδὲ τῶν «ἀρχόντων τοῦ αἰῶνος τούτου» ὁ τοῦ «μέλλοντος αἰῶνος Πατήρ.» Οὕτω προσώτερον κεχωρήκασι, καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ τὰ ἐν χρήμασι θεῖα ταῖς ἁρπαγαῖς βεβηλοῦν, καὶ ἐπὶ τὸ τὰ θεῖα ἰδιώματα ἐξιδιοῦσθαι προέβησαν, καὶ ὁ ἐν αὐτοῖς μύρμηξ λέων ἐγένετο, κατὰ τὸ μέγα παρὰ τῷ Ἰὼβ αἴνιγμα. Ἐπὶ τούτοις λαμβάνουσι μὲν καὶ τὸ ἀνέλεγκτον, ἢ προηγουμένως σφίσιν αὐτοῖς μνηστευόμενοι τὸν κυκεῶνα τῶν πραγμάτων ἐκέ-ρασαν. Προσλαμβάνουσι δὲ καὶ τἄλλα μειλίγματα, κἀπειδὰν λάβωσι, προσερεθίζονται, καὶ δεδίττονται ἀεὶ τοὺς ἅπαξ δόντας, ὡς ἀεὶ διδόναι δεδωημένους· κἂν μὴ λάβωσιν, ἀγριαίνουσιν. C Ἀξιοῦσι γὰρ μηδὲ πένεσθαι τὸν ἐπίσκοπον, ἀλλὰ φύεσθαι μὲν αὐτῷ τὰ ἐκ τῆς γῆς ἄσπαρτα καὶ ἀνήροτα· ἕλκεσθαι δὲ αὐτῷ τοὺς ποταμοὺς χρυσὸν ἀτεχνῶς ἄπυρον· ἵππους δὲ καὶ ἡμιόνους αὐτῷ τὰς κύνας τίκτειν, καὶ πάντα εἶναι τῷ τοῦ Θεοῦ λειτουργῷ καινὰ, ἢ εἰ μὴ εἶεν, μηδὲ λειτουργὸν εἶναι Θεοῦ, ἀλλ’ ἀνίερον καὶ παμ-βέβηλον, καὶ τὸν θεῖον (11) ὑβριστὴν ἐκ τοῦ κόρου, καὶ προσπαθῆ τοῖς οἰκείοις καὶ προικοδότην, καὶ τίνος γὰρ οὐ χείρω καὶ τῶν δαιμόνων; Οὐ γὰρ φρίττουσιν ἐφ’ οἷς αὐτοὶ κατὰ Χριστιανῶν μαίνονται τῇ λύττῃ τῆς πλεονεξίας ὑποκινούμενοι, ἀλλὰ ταῖς τῶν ἐπισκόπων κατηγορίαις ὡς σφετέραις συνηγορίαις ἐρείδονται, ὥσπερ ἐπάθλου τινὸς αὐτοῖς κειμένου, εἰ τὰ τῶν Ἐκκλησιῶν ἐπιτρέψαντες, ἔτι καὶ τοὺς προ-εστώτας κατασπιλώσαιεν. Τοῦτο μὲν ἴσως κατά
the action, so that nothing is left unattempted by them, and that the shepherd might not be left alone when his flock is being plundered; but that the head might be recognized as one with the body, not only by its feeling the pain of the other members, but also by its own not being exempt A from the fracture. And thus it suffers doubly: both from the wound of the other members, which it takes into itself through compassion, and from those things which it receives in itself through direct impact. "For this reason I weep," says Jeremiah, "for this reason" (as you yourself are not unaware) "I have become mute." For I am not so great-souled that I can easily shake off such great burdens and cheerfully apply myself to my duties. But you concede that I stand much lower than the height of these evils; for is my strength the strength of stones? "Wretched man that I am!" and my soul is wasted away like a spider, and I stand in need of relief. B For this reason I have again loosed the bonds of my tongue, trusting that you will not repel these forceful words, since you know that I have been silent. Knowing, however, that I shall be easier for it, through the relief of the things that trouble me, and—the greatest thing—that I shall be set free from these things through your holy prayers, or I shall be tried less, or at least I shall be strengthened to bear them courageously. Do not, therefore, neglect to pour forth your more efficacious supplications to the good Master, knowing (as you also teach us) that you will thereby be bestowing a great benefit upon the injured, and an even greater one upon those who injure; for the injury to the latter is greater because of their injustice, considering that it strikes at their souls. And indeed, if it were a matter C of the advantage of only one side, the Master would be ready to accomplish that; but since it is a great, and especially a spiritual, gain that will come to both sides, how would He not move every argument and exhaust every form of petition that compassion can use, so that the good might be poured out and travel to where the many are to be benefited? These things, O wise and pure dwelling-place of the Spirit, are perhaps more than the measure of an epistle, but less than a tragedy, yet in comparison with the events themselves, it cannot be said how far they fall short. May the Lord grant, through your intercessions for all, O all-holy Master, D that the cup of bitterness may either be entirely removed, or tempered, or at least be drunk by us more easily.
V. — To the Roman
You have almost deafened my ears, good John, my most illustrious son in the Lord, by recounting your reports with such great applause. For although you show me a certain good in him, I do not know it quite clearly; yet his words make you that cloud that once rained gold upon the Rhodians. So that, if I did not know your great prudence and that you are therefore a stranger to falsehood, I would not have yielded to the novelty of such praise; for they surpass the current
of the race—I do not know whether I should call it iron or earthenware—the excellence. Whence, therefore, hast thou appeared to us in this present night of wickedness, a A star shining bright, according to the phrase of Pindar? Whence, O blessed one? Loose the bonds of my perplexity. But the solution is at hand. It is that benefactress of men, philosophy, which humanizes even the brutal or savage men, no less than Circe restored the companions of Odysseus from swine, by applying to each his own proper medicine; philosophy, I say, as she is humane and kind, has fashioned this habit within thee, and has planted a heavenly plant in a foreign field, the earth, according to the dictum of thy Plato and mine. Hold fast, therefore, to the goodness by which thou drawest near to God, and holdest thy head resting in heaven, even though thou still walkest upon the earth. For this is what it is to be a true philosopher. For he does not merely trifle B to me about sublime and heavenly things, nor does he explain to me roasting and broiling and the like, nor does he magnificently boast of a greater alpha, and then, when it is necessary to perform some task and to descend to that which is of use to us, surpass in rusticity even that Sarabus, the Athenian merchant of old. For that is the mark of a person who neither knows things as they are—otherwise he would be diligent about things that truly exist—nor of one who exercises himself in the meditation of death. But thou art certainly not such a one; so may God the Word, the true Wisdom of God, shed upon thee ever more and more the light of knowledge, and keep thee C above every stain and wickedness.
VI. — To Mermenopoulos.
Regarding me, however, there is no consideration. Thou understandest: I know well this comic hemistich. Assuredly, thy faculty, which has been allotted to do good to many, is ignorant of its own purpose in my case, and deprives me alone of thy benefits. For upon all others it instills nectar through thy tongue; but me it has left utterly dry. This is truly that "Alibant" of the poets. Whom, therefore, shall it appoint as its advocate? How shall it not be refuted by all, D when I provoke all against it? Or is it perhaps all the more bold against me because, living among barbarians, I have become a rustic and a boor? But, O wonderful faculty of judgment! Being instructed by thy laws, we trust not in words but in deeds; and these, in truth, have never become rustic in me. Either, therefore, sprinkle my tongue also a little, and instill some of the nectar, or sharpen it still more for thine own defense; for I shall not take this in such a way as not to accuse thee of violated friendship. For I am equipped with a sharp defender, namely, my works; and even if my servant be weak, and my horses slow, yet Diomedes knows how to save Nestor.
VII. — To Lord Michael Panthecnes.
A You ask how my affairs are? Not very well; for it would be more temperate to say that. An internal fever is smoldering, and it is already beginning to turn to malignancy. Dry and expectorationless coughs are troubling me, and I have a long-standing pain in my side. But the summit of my evils are the inexplicable and inconsolable anxieties regarding matters of the people in general, matters of the Church in general; there is nothing here that is not of this kind. What is more, things from far away also strike me. For even though I reside at Achrida, I am pierced from Glavinitza, and from Vidino, or Stlanitza—endure, you yourself, even for a short time the injury of these barbarian names, so that you may not always indulge in the delights of Greek banquets. And another arrow has been fixed in my heart from elsewhere, and there is no Paeon anywhere, or at least the secondary one, Machaon or Podalirius, to draw out the arrow, suck out the blood, and sprinkle gentle medicines upon it (20), but it remains fixed and constantly B generates heavy and sharp pains. And I am in such a state—yet know that you have not heard even a thousandth part of my troubles. For even this is added to the other evils by which I am distressed, that I am not even permitted to express how badly I fare. But may you be in a happier state, so that I may not, by being saddened by common troubles—since I am a participant in common evils—suffer a doubled ill, according to that saying of the wise Sophocles. May the Lord, who alone is the dispenser of life, and who breathes into dry bones and provides them motion, grant us also some mitigation of our annoyances, and to you, rest in all joys.
VIII. — To Lord John of Serblia.
C But you, my good man, struggle so much on behalf of my words, lest they be convicted of falsehood, that you are eager to confirm them with deeds themselves. For you are always being accused by me as negligent, and you have always rejected such an appellation, just as Autolycus would not even [reject] Ulysses. But, O blessed one, friendship is not cultivated in such a way; rather, what you would wish to happen to yourself, the same you must wish for him who thinks he is loved by you. If, therefore, those things which you accepted to do have been completed, it is well; but if not, I shall hold it in the place of the greatest favor if you do not, in addition, lose the documents of proof entrusted to you. But I, vain man, was asking another thing of you: namely, that after the decree regarding the people of Vodena has been passed, you should make this known to Lord Gregory Taronites, and request from him a document directed to the person acting in Berrhoea, prescribing what must be done by him. If the decree has already been passed, your request regarding this still remains; but if not, see to it that by being so hasty, you do not run the risk of blundering: for we have learned from the proverb that haste is dangerous. May the Lord keep you from every snare of the devil and from negligence regarding good works. D
Variæ lectiones et notæ. (20) Ex Homero Iliad. iv, v. 219.
IX. — To the Panthechnes.
Sane, the people of Achrida hear my song just as an ass hears the lyre A. Thus, indeed, do I abound in words and am more talkative than I ought to be. But if these people knew who Hippocrates was, they would have summoned even him to me, that he might free me from this madness by compounding medicines. But now, I at least have this much benefit from the ignorance of my Libethrians, that they do not cause me distress out of their pharmacopoeia. Do you, however, love wisdom, and be loved by her, and through her be guarded, superior to every malice and wickedness. Those who have been greeted by you greet you in return, each one as if pouring his very soul into the greeting.
X. — To the Lord Nicephorus the Chartophylax.
Even if the enemy deals maliciously in the sanctuary of God B, showing himself always more and more active—so that he now seems more energetic than himself, most honorable Lord and our Father, ever disposing ascents of malice—yet the Lord of hosts is with us, destroying his exaltations and rendering his wicked plottings vain. And how, indeed, would He not be with us, who, because of your holy words and prayers, and on account of His own goodness, has become intimate with us, unworthy as we are? But do not cease to exert your efforts so that He may remain in those to whom you have introduced Him, that is to say, so that, remaining with us all the days we have—illumined, of course, by the light of your words and prayers, until the present evil age is ended in us—He may keep us free from the night of evil deeds.
XI. — To the Bishop of Citrus.
We have both been silent for a long time, most holy brother and lord. But C of your own silence, you yourself know, and will explain to us, the cause. As for me, the first thing that restrained my lips was the passage, or invasion, or whatever I should call it, of the Franks, which so drew and dragged us all into itself that we were no longer in possession of ourselves. We were, indeed, so intoxicated by that bitter cup that we suffered a monstrous alienation of mind, or rather—to borrow words from our own books—by drinking the dregs reserved for sinners, we were troubled, we were shaken like one drunk, and all our wisdom was devoured D. And for this reason I was dumb and was humbled, and I kept silent from good things, those dealings which would have pleased me most of all with your holiness. This, therefore, was one chain upon my tongue. The other was that I have not found, up to this point, a genuine messenger. For the many are indeed quick to receive letters, but to carry and—
as a bent hand; but in delivering them, and to him to whom they are written, they are sluggish and as if maimed. But now, since we have become accustomed to the vexations of the Franks, we bear our evils more lightly than before (for time is the most suitable master of all things), and hence we have begun to be somewhat our own selves again; and since we have found a suitable courier (namely, the most reverend monk, subordinate to the most holy Father, Lord Simeon), I will no longer hold my lips constrained; but with mind, word, and letter, I will address and embrace you, B the priest of the highest mind and word, and the one who leads me from the letter to the spirit, and I inquire how your sacred and sanctified body fares. And if the tempter of the Lord does not gape at it, may it pass by it no more than a stone flung by a thrower; may it indeed be in the best state. But if it does harass you even from the left side, yet use against this too, according to your Paul, the armor of righteousness, and through your infirmity show the power of God being perfected in you, and manifest the life of Jesus in your mortal and corruptible body. For as much as the outward man perishes, so much C is the inward renewed, and shows Jesus living within. I will tell you, if you wish, that all my affairs, both bodily and spiritual, are adverse to me. This only of good remains to me: confidence in your prayers, which, if you offer them for me constantly and even more fervently than usual, I do not doubt that you will turn my affairs in another direction. Since, therefore, you are a servant of a most humane Lord who loves his brethren exceedingly, show humanity and brotherly love toward me, that even He may, in heaven, both for other things and for this very cause, repay you with a perfect reward, and even now keep you from all evil.
XII. To Lord Gregory the camalarius.
It is time for me, most venerable brother, to use the prophetic word: Woe is me, for fire has devoured the beautiful things of the wilderness! For what is more beautiful than the house of God? What is more pleasant, or what is more comely than the beloved tabernacles of God, and the place of His glory? Woe is me for my sins! Perhaps they have set on fire D with flame the sanctuary of God. Who will give to my head water, and to my eyes a fountain of tears? And I will bewail the contrition of the daughter of my people, I mean, of this city, this wretched one, the gourd of Jonah (which, when it had scarcely appeared, vanished), and, what is more worthy of tears, the Mother of my people, the Church of God. Who is so adamantine in soul, who so hard in heart, that he is not consumed even by this spectacle, or by the mere hearing of the thing? Why this, O Lord (for I will contend with Thee in judgment), why hast Thou repelled and destroyed us? Thou hast shown to not the people alone, but also to the priests...
hard things; Thou hast made us drink the wine of contrition, and Thou hast left Thy house desolate, and hast caused the sound of hymns to cease from it. And there shall be everyone who passes by, he shall hiss at it; and Thou hast insulted the diadem of beauty, and hast cast down the crown of glory and praise! How these things, O Lord? How hast Thou chastened us—not in judgment, but in anger—and how has Thy wrath been sharp and alien to Thy own people, and in taking vengeance, hast Thou avenged and brought to an end? For formerly the altar of Elias B (31) Thou didst consume with heavenly fire and didst scatter the dust, that Thou mightest glorify the Righteous One; but now Thou hast delivered Thy holy altar to fire, not for our glory, but for our humiliation. We have sinned, but Thou art long-suffering; we have acted unjustly, but Thou repentest over the evils of men; but Thou art one who passes over iniquities, and overlooks sins. How then hast Thou poured out for us the whole dregs of the unmixed gall? But, alas, how I have been carried away by the passion! I have been beside myself, and I think the infliction to be a calamity without consolation. But things are not so; for He who chastens is a Father, and those who are chastened are children. Rise up therefore, most holy brother. When else wilt thou show that stability from the mind, and that greatness of soul which characterizes thee? If we ourselves grieve so, and are softened by those who fall, when shall we heal the pain of others? How shall we anoint them for courage, when we ourselves have fallen irreparably? How C shall we lift others from their fall? Do not be so affected, O minister of the mighty God, who ought to be able to do all things in Christ who strengthens thee, and to be powerful, so as to support the weak according to Paul, thy teacher. It would indeed have been desirable that what happened had not happened. Who would deny it? But since it seemed good to God, who has resisted His will? Perhaps also what has happened is better. It is not necessary, therefore, to consider how we may provide fodder for our grief (for grief grows of itself, and needs no additional care), but how we may pull it up and destroy it. For in the diseases of the body, it is a woman's task to beat the breast, to wail, and to be torn; but it is the physician's task to repress these actions and to think of resolving the disease. But you say, the cure of the passion is difficult, and especially in these evil times, which have such a scarcity of works and resources. And where is He who can create all things by a word? He Himself will speak, and they shall be; He will command, and they shall be created. I will remind you of the ancient and divine history. That temple, the D famous one, the great wonder of the world, which Solomon had built for God in Jerusalem,
was being burned and laid waste under Nabuzardan. A Afterwards, when the people of the captivity had been released, God urged everyone to the rebuilding of the divine house; but human weakness, reckoning with itself, did not venture upon the work, regarding it as difficult to accomplish. Haggai the prophet, therefore, moved by God, puts the faint-hearted to shame and shatters the weakness of their unbelief, and promises greater and more seemly things. "The latter glory of this house," says he, "shall be greater than the former, says the Lord Almighty." Consider that these same things are being spoken to you now by the same Spirit; let these be to you like dew from the Lord as a remedy for your great despondency. How intensely you desired to see a more beautiful and delightful temple! But now this, now that intervening impediment deterred you from taking up the work. What, then, do you know? Perhaps the wise steward of our affairs has so arranged your circumstances that what was at first a matter of spontaneous choice has now become one of necessity, and the work you desired is no longer to be building from the ground up, but B building upon an existing foundation. He, therefore, who has designed this, will also make easy what is difficult, and will make possible what is impossible. For is He wise indeed, but not powerful? Or powerful, but not good? Or perhaps He possesses all these, but does not care for His own glory? But clearly, none of these things can be said. Therefore, as one who is wise, He has provided what was better; and as one who is good, He has not neglected what was ours; and if, as good, He will make what He has provided good and useful, surely, as one desiring to be glorified, He will do it the more quickly. But consider, besides, that this evil has been ordained by Him for your testing, namely, that you might show the readiness of your mind in its healing, and perform the other things which your own capacity has granted you. For the Lord knows that we often do not venture upon good works of our own accord; for this reason, He sometimes even compels us, though unwilling, to do good. And this is what I observed in the Gospels, that some were compelled to enter into the feast. O sweet tyranny! O violence that sets free! O Father, who seems to bite but kisses! O bowels that are consumed while burning, and thus pour forth a copious dew! Let us not, therefore, provoke Him further, if it is well to wail before the scourge, nor, like murmurers against that which is most light, invite a second and perhaps heavier one upon ourselves; but let us show that we have been held by Him as sons, through this, that we approach Him as our Father. We shall approach in this way if we brush aside our sorrow as the offspring of another father—namely, of darkness and confusion—and stretch out to God the hands of our hope, and lay hold of His hands of aid and support. These things from us, O priest of the divine Word and our brother; but you will have acquired more from yourself, by which, soothing and as it were charming away your sorrow, you shall become dear to yourself and to others, strengthened by the grace of the Paraclete against all despondency.
XIII. — To the Patriarch.
Who is more blessed than we at this moment, when we have been blessed by the Lord's letter, C when our mind has been hallowed,
B and our eyes and tongue and hearing have been purified, and we have understood, and read, and heard what was written? For we were in a bad state, and in great danger, most holy master, as we were overcome by the present adversity, and swallowed up by the deep waters. But the hand of your letter has saved me from faint-heartedness and from the storm, and has led me up from the abyss, and pulled me out of the mire of the clay that was there, imitating your Jesus toward the disciple who was sinking. For you set us in order (O, that sweet tongue for him!) not to be troubled by the things that are happening, but to stand firm and unyielding, and to keep the stability required in unstable times. And your admonition, lofty and intense, is a word that consecrates consolation; but it also brings with it divine power, gently touching the heart, making it burn like that of Cleopas of old, and rendering your exhortation effective. What have I besides this little letter, if not long and diffuse speeches, and wisdom striking the hearing with empty noise, offspring of the air like their father, and melting away along with the flowing stream? Do not cease, therefore, to help us in this way, and to irrigate a soul scorched by lack of water, which the ox and the ass tread today, which things you must understand; for I am ashamed to explain the meaning of my obscure language myself. But the duty of your apostolate had almost escaped me already, although it is a great document, and one that is by no means C perfunctory, for my folly. For you have recalled to memory, with the ointment with which we were anointed from the sanctuary, those things which are called "anointed," and which equal in number the elders of the Apocalypse: for which reason more is demanded of us to be offered to the Lord than of others; and that we should present prayers as incense, standing before God not only for our own needs, but also for those of the people. And what did you wish to teach me by their cylindrical shape, and their length like a staff, and their straightness? Is it not that I should not be entirely addicted to the earth, but that I should touch it with only a small part of me (just as some holy stones are rolled along by the prophets)? And by the latter, that equity which the countenance of the Lord beholds, and which those who possess are holy, and furthermore the works of shepherding and confirming, which are the proper characters of an archbishop, you have signified to me? And what was I reminded of by the remaining four fragrant signs, D from the grace that is in you, if not that I should take up my cross, and mortify the members that are upon the earth? For the cross is, and is called, the symbol of these things and the fixation of our actions. I, therefore, have conceived these things by reasoning from the objects you sent. But if you wished to indicate something more sublime, and more splendid and higher for my sickly eyes, as is likely, reveal it yourself, my eyes, you who are an eyewitness of the Word and a minister, so that possessing your grace more perfectly, I may contemplate the wonders, together with...
wishing for our misery that it might be softened from the days of evil, having become the author of the state of our forgiveness. A
XIV. To Pacurianus
I have long lamented my own lot, most venerable son to me in the Lord, and called it a cruel and wretched one, because in bearing me along, it cast me into this extremity where envy and hatred thrive, and a swarm of other vices, where the voice of reason is hated, more than ointment is by dung beetles. Now, however, I am moved to show it gratitude for providing this settlement among these Barbarians, through which I have acquired you as a listener; a thing which, though prized by many of the whole in the great city, could scarcely have fallen to the lot of a few. And for me, the die has been cast more fortunately than for Plato. For he, having sailed to Dionysius, that he might rein in a youth of good and amenable disposition with the bridles of reason and conjoin philosophy with kingship—and that he might add to the power of doing great things the will to do the best—fell so far short of his hopes that Dionysius, though having never before committed an offense against philosophy, after Plato’s instruction concerning the just and the fair, outraged it with the foulest of insults. B Those who do not ignore Pollin and Annicorius know of this outrage. But I, without crossing the vast sea or navigating the deadly Charybdis, while dwelling in this little house, enjoy your greatness of mind, and with you providing the hearing, a Lydian steed drives my chariot. So much more fortunately do I fare than Plato. Therefore, we shall in no way fear that popular Briareus, but, opposing his hundred hands with the right hand of justice, we shall through this create power. For we do not necessarily demand of you, O object of my discourse most venerable, that you make concessions regarding what is just; but we make this a voluntary matter for you, and we propose it rather than impose it. But there is another thing we inexorably demand of you: namely, that you do not allow, for the sake of any gain whatsoever, any innovation to be introduced against that which is just. For, to explain to you what is unknown to most: we men live either according to the just, or beyond the just, or above the just. By the first we are preserved as men; by the alternative we are transformed into beasts; by the third we are rendered like to God. C You would indeed be most beautiful, therefore, if you were to paint your own soul with the divine colors of the life that is above the just. And this you ought to perform in this office in which you are set, if you are able or willing to be superior to those sent by the emperor. But if you cannot, or do not wish to perform so great a thing, we certainly do not, by force... D
compellemus alis destitutum per aera volare. A At least, we shall demand that you walk in a human manner; and if you are not prompt to do this yourself, we shall even urge you with the goads of our words. But if you maintain this middle course, I will confidently say that you will walk with a royal gait; for this is what the emperor himself desires. Nor will that Briareus dare to stretch out his hands against [you], however audacious he may be; and you will deservedly surpass all others, and, being mindful of your nobility, you will abandon and cast away beastly turpitude and a shameless life, things that are ill-born and unworthy of human nature. But you see how I ask for moderate things from you, so that from this you might learn to observe moderation yourself in the commands which you impose upon your subjects. May the Lord, who guides them along the path of justice and lifts up those who desire to rise sublimely above what is merely just, He who entrusts to us the greatest authorities and rewards even the moderation observed within them with greater dignities, make you wiser and grant you understanding in every way, and keep you superior to every wickedness and malice.
XV. — To the Bishop of Semnona.
B I embrace and greet you, dear head to me, most honorable brother; but not only this, I also ask that you pour forth prayer for our lowliness, so that, having been delivered from the wicked present age, I may be refreshed at some time with a holier and more appropriate refreshment for Christians. For the rest, being overwhelmed by both private and public evils, I have no source from which to grant myself any rest. Thus, for a certainty, Satan has overcome all those who administer public affairs. And now we can aptly recite that [saying] of the Apostle, yet not in the sense in which he spoke it, but in another which the present circumstances suggest, namely: C *For not without cause does each of these bear the sword;* but [so that he may] slaughter, destroy, and deprive one of liberty. Therefore, they are neither sluggish nor weak in their work; but as if hoping to deserve better from someone if they should do more harm to Christians, thus one vies with another to anticipate and surpass [the others] in doing evil. On account of these things, and above these things, we invoke your prayers, that they may render the sword of these men somewhat blunter; or rather (since a sword, the blunter it is, the more time it consumes while cutting, and therefore causes more pain), that they may break it completely. Pray, therefore, with both hands, as the saying goes, D and God will grant rest to His lot.
XVI. — To the Bishop of Vidini.
Indeed, your circumstances are distressing, most honorable brother, and they move every heart. Who would deny it? *Without were fightings, within were fears,* and there is no one to help, or who fights alongside. The enemies sound forth and lift up their head, and they place the carcasses of [your] servants as food for the birds of the heaven; they pour out blood
[EPISTOLA XV ET XVI]
A they pour out their blood round about our city, and there is none to bury them. And friends and neighbors stand afar off; and even if they approach, they stand by B more cruelly, preparing the deadly hook. For since love has everywhere grown cold, a man's enemies are those of his own household. These things can indeed sting the soul more than can be expressed; nevertheless, if we consider that every head is in pain, and every heart in sorrow, surely this universal communion of calamity may be some consolation to us. For tell me, who has rest in these evil times? No one, as I believe. And if there were anyone so blessed as to have no personal trouble (which seems impossible), yet, if he were willing to obey the law of Christ, he must make the griefs of others his own; since we have it among the commandments to weep with those who weep. But if he is insensible to the common and brotherly suffering, he is rather to be wept over, as being more wretched than all those who are suffering the extremity of these evils. For if those who mourn are blessed, and woe is pronounced upon those who laugh, consider what end we must predict for such a person. Do not, therefore, lose heart, as if you alone were enduring hardships. You have bitter exactors? But they are not more bitter than those in these parts, who take one out of five children into slavery, in much the same way as beasts of burden are accustomed to be quintupled or tithed. You have Romans worrying you from without? But what if they are compared to those who descend upon us from the city, the Achridenses? They, for whom entering the city is a delight and a crown, carry off everything and pillage it, while there is none to rescue or save. For who can resist the men of the city? You have wicked Castrenses? But these are children compared to our own Bulgarian C Castrenses; or rather, that I may not be ashamed to state the magnitude of the wickedness that is in our Castro, who are the most wicked among you compared with our boorish Mocreni? I have framed these things in a figure regarding those in Agris, a place you know well (having long dwelt in this valley of tears), that I might explain for you by synecdoche the whole from a part. Therefore, there is one healer and physician of all these things, whom if we give ourselves up to sadness more than is reasonable, we will not at all render him more propitious, but shall only provoke him the more. But if we pray, and invoke his aid with tears, I am confident that we shall find the bowels of his mercy moved toward us.
D
XVII. — To the Bishop of Triaditza.
This old man came to meet us, most holy brother, as we were entering the church, along with
A princes, both ecclesiastical and lay. Sobbing in old-man fashion and full of commiseration, he set forth to us his affairs from beginning to end: how, namely, you had conceived anger against him around the month of July; how, coming to us in your absence, he had narrated those things, and how much he had suffered on that account; and how we, through your charity, having used no formal judgment or greater authority, asked only this in a humane and brotherly way, that you should kindly embrace the old man and correct whatever had been done against him by you that was troubling; and how you yourself had promised to show him all benevolence in the future, both in word and deed. Yet you were so far from fulfilling the promise, that, being unable to bear the weight of such kindness towards him, contrary to the promise made, he fled to our powerful and holy emperor, having despaired of the care to be provided by the archbishop, or rather, clearly recognizing that it was not only useless for healing, but uniquely potent for exacerbating his wounds; and how he reached the height of that majesty and received B remedies that were indeed efficacious on the part of the giver, yet your hand had rendered them useless. Furthermore, he was cast out by you from all the borders of Triaditza and finally forbidden from the sacred ministry. Having explained all these things, he asked us again that we should once more make trial of your charity toward us: saying that he knew indeed that no good—unless perhaps greater evils—would result from his repeated journey to us, except that it would close off every path of reproach and condemnation of himself. But those who, as I said, were standing by, taking this whole matter ill, said it was unworthy that our petition for the injured old man, which had expressed itself with only benevolence as a mediator acting at the seat of power, should be contemned. And indeed, what soul, they added, even were it Pharaonic, would not have been moved by a power which, restraining itself at the same time, sets against it only charity, and does not command as if condemning, but softens as if beseeching? They added also that now one ought to proceed C more severely against this insult, so that the injurer might at last learn not to loosen all the reins to the liberty of sinning, and not to think more highly than one ought to think, but to remember that God is the God of order and not of confusion and disorder, and that the supernal virtues themselves are subject one to another, and observe the measure of grace which they have obtained, and which He either so established or so illuminates: nay, that even the rebellious powers themselves cohere by a certain mutual order (whence also their firmness flows, although they are otherwise disordered and incomposite), which is manifest from the fact that Paul sets both the princes of this air and D principalities and powers. And I said that it was necessary for this insult to be pursued not only for the sake of this old man, [index: entries preserved]
A but also for the sake of many others in general (for, they said, the bishop seems to have displayed such arrogant and violent behavior toward not a few others), all of whom it is proper to check by the example made of the old man. For it would be an extreme act for someone—even if he were among the less devout, and not as easily worthy of belief, or even suspected of some crime—who was afflicted by his own bishop, to flee to the archbishop, when I saw one who is so devout and so worthy of frugality suffer such and so many things for having fled to the archbishop. For as much as a military commander might be embittered toward those who have defected to the enemy, once he has them in his power again, just so much did this good and gentle bishop act harshly B toward him who had taken refuge with the archbishop. And they asked me further: 'What would your beloved bishop of Triaditza have done, if you had handed over someone to him for punishment?' 'Clearly, he would have honored him with the highest honors in his power.' For he would surely have lavished more and heavier favors upon one condemned by you, since he afflicted far more grievously the man recommended by you, so that he might heal what he had previously suffered. Yet how have you yourself treated the enemies of the truth, the enemies—if we may say—of your own self, those worthy of the serpents that destroyed the murmurers in the desert? C Not joyfully, not paternally, not, to sum up, evangelically, as you learned from the Teacher, who even for those who crucified him prayed to the Father. But as we smiled quietly at these things, 'We understand,' they said, 'why you bear this insult so patiently and gladly: you are in love, along with the Emperor, with this strenuous man, as if he were a brother who insults you.' I, however, in order to calm them with the words that were appropriate (for I spoke the very words of the Gospel: 'Does our law judge a man unless it first hears from him and knows what he is doing?') D did not at that moment believe that you had treated the old man contrary to what you had promised me. For this would truly be an insult; but that you would wish to inflict an insult upon us, we shall not easily be persuaded, unless we think you have become insane. We have therefore judged it opportune to write again to your Holiness concerning this matter, so that, taking pity on the old age of the monk and sparing his state, and looking to these times in which they magnify gnats into camels, you may allow the old man to breathe out his soul in his monastery, as it flutters only upon the edges of his lips; and that if there be any revenues, he may harvest and manage them himself, as one intending to render an account for these to the common Judge of all. Just as we too, to whom the administration of ecclesiastical affairs has been entrusted, do not judge it just to be subject to human accounts, unless [index: entries preserved]
bear, and are a stumbling block to many: A claiming and asserting that we should await God alone as the exactor of accounts, and being thus persuaded themselves, they wish to persuade others. But if, while we are indulgent toward ourselves, we are rigid judges of others, it is to be feared that we may be numbered among those who bound heavy and unsupportable burdens, but would not move them with their own finger, and that it may be said to us: "You are grown old in evil days, condemned by your own lips"; or: "You wicked servant, out of your own mouth you are judged"; and again: "You do not forgive a little, when much has been forgiven you." These, most honorable brother, are the seeds of the Word cast by us, the laborers; would that you, like good soil, as we hope and desire, might not prove stony and thorny, but might bring forth for us the fruit of obedience, and so be recognized as a perfect disciple of Christ, who descended from heaven not to do his own will, but the will of the Father who sent him. B But if you should ignore us even now, you know whom you are ignoring through us, before whom even the most fearful account is to be rendered. You will ignore him if first you do not restore to the monk his monastery, as the emperor has decreed, and if you do not release him from the bond of interdiction. The accusations you have against him, you shall bring before the synod, in which you are to participate. You certainly ought to attend this, both on account of the pending judgment of the bishop of Lipania, which must be completed by those who brought it, of whom you are one, C and also on account of the votes, which especially await you, as I have written before; and then you shall accept what is determined by the brotherhood after the examination. For you will grieve Him who, as He Himself said, is ignored through us. Nevertheless, you will also find there that the canons do not look upon you with a placid countenance, nor are they such as can be lightly esteemed; rather, they knit a cloud of wrath and portend something violent and impetuous—whether this be a rain of a new kind, such as Moses and Aaron once brought upon the hardened king, or simply hail. For he who despises goodness treasures up for himself wrath, as we have learned. For immediately indeed, since you have bound this man with lack of liturgy and have made him excommunicated, He who spoke through the Fathers assembled D in the Council of Carthage—the Holy Spirit—has cast the bond of excommunication upon you also, unless you, becoming a just penitent, shall release the unjust bond. Knowing this well, may your prudence so conduct itself in this matter that no root of bitterness may remain to sprout up again. May He who gave us counsel, saying: "Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls," may the God of peace be with your spirit.
XVIII. To the same, who refused to attend the synod, in the name of the synod itself.
The letter of your reverence, most honorable brother, was read to all of us who were gathered together, and regarding the...
conversion of the Armenians, we were not a little delighted. For if, as we have learned, there is joy in heaven even over one sinner who repents, how were we not to exult over the salvation of so many souls? We have prayed for them that they might have a stable perseverance in the good, so that they might not, like plants which are forcibly bent by someone’s hand, return again to their former state. But that you refuse to journey hither to us, we have grieved not a little, since your absence is the cause that the business is again deferred. For the opinion you sent in writing did not seem to us sufficient to supply the deficiency of your absence; as some of those who examined it more accurately have said, it was not straightforward, nor unambiguous, but tortuous and shifty, and very far removed from the straightforward Spirit, drawing near instead to the coils of the crooked serpent, upon whom the most vocal prophet of God pronounced the holy sword of God to be cast; A yes, and furthermore it seemed to be composed to the injury of the synod. For if, you say, you establish anything not contrary to the divine canons and the truth, to this pious opinion I also accede: as if we were to establish anything against the canons, or be adverse to the truth, or issue impious decrees. If this is so, how do you walk with us in the house of God, or approach the divine altar? For surely just as well, or even more than David, you could say with right and confidence: "I have hated the church of the malignant, and with the impious I will not sit, and with the lawless I will not enter." B Indeed, we know of opinions given with reservations, but in such reservations the honor due to the brethren is maintained, and those who draft such opinions do not sharpen their tongues like a serpent in such a contemptuous and haughty manner. Some, therefore, saw crookedness and insult in your opinion; we all, however, defined it as invalid and of no force, since it was not confirmed by the signature of your own hand. Some of the sharper ones also noted that you fell into a great contradiction in your letter without realizing it. For when you said in the beginning that it was impossible for you to undertake the journey C hither, because you must go to the city with the Armenians; later you said that you are waiting for him who is to record the matter, so that you might not leave your business in disorder. For if, because you ought to present the Armenians to our powerful and holy emperor and show him to them, you do not wish to come hither (although not only the canons, but other causes known to you would demand it), you certainly do not wait for him who is to record it in the acts. But if on his account you must delay there for some time, so that no temporal D detriment may befall your business on account of the documents...
A of the canons, or of other reasons known to you, it would have behooved you all the more to spend that time on ecclesiastical matters, where the benefit is more divine, and the harm more dangerous.
But as for the rest, nothing acts so much against itself as a mouth that has learned to tell lies and tries to cure falsehood with falsehood. Since, therefore, we have learned, brother, that you are deliberately postponing the synodical gathering, and seeking and inventing excuses (for that saying of Solomon is truly accurate: "He who wishes to separate himself from friends seeks excuses"), and B your intention—which, had there been no malice involved, you would simply and straightforwardly have reconciled—shows this, we impose upon you the penalty of suspension from sacred ministry, in the Holy Spirit, to whom you were in all ways a debtor to complete the judgment initiated in that very gathering. For you must necessarily choose one of two things: either that you did not begin the judgment according to the Spirit, or that you are not now legitimately absent from it. For it is also obvious that you could have already perfected the established rites for those who have turned to the orthodox faith. And if you had already performed them, you ought to have persuaded them to await this short time of your journey to us and your departure from us; for certainly those who were persuaded by you to receive the mystery (if indeed they were persuaded), in this also would have readily complied with your will; and furthermore, this would have served as a proof of the sincerity of their conversion to the grace of faith. And if that had been done, it would certainly have stopped the mouths of many who are able to say that the Armenians approach us not because they have come to know the truth, as you boast, but for another reason. C For the knowledge of the truth, while it produces many other good things, also disposes those who have attained it to tolerance and patience. Nevertheless, we consent and grant that you remain free for fifteen days after the reception of the present letter; within which interval of time, you will indeed be able to sign all the proselytes with chrism. But when those days have passed, you shall wear the imposed penalty of suspension from sacred ministry upon your neck.
But if it seems hard to you that your Church should lack episcopal ministry, consider that it is also hard for other Churches that, on account of your absence, they lack their own bishops; for know for certain that if you are not present, neither will the judgment regarding the bishop of Lipenius ever be completed, nor will the other widowed Churches receive their bishops; lest again the tongue that strikes in secret find an opportunity to send forth the calumnies which it dares not speak publicly and freely, D supplying them to our adversaries, so that those who are upright in heart may be shot at in the dark. And since some of the Bulgarian monks are sitting in council with us concerning some mat-
the brother of the monk and of the head of the monastery of Saint John, which is in the city, cried out against A it, saying that he had been restricted and was unable to receive any consolation from anyone, since your piety had forbidden all through a proclamation from even approaching this monk at all. If these things are true, they are altogether unworthy of episcopal kindness, and necessarily worthy of prompt correction, which must proceed from your honor—may the Lord preserve you in all goodness, truth, and righteousness, demonstrating the fruit of the Spirit.
XIX. — In the name of the archbishop to the same.
What the assembled brothers thought regarding your letter, in which you signified that you would not come B to the synod, has been declared to you in another letter. Now hear what I have to say to you privately, having read your most wise apology, which you made to our letter in which you treated of the expulsion of the monk and the inhibition of celebrating the sacred rites. You seem to me, brother, to have either not read that letter, or to have read it indeed, but with your mind intent upon other things perhaps more necessary and lofty, you have not grasped the meaning of the writer at all. For how are those things full of anger and bitterness, C which, as I suppose, exhibit all gentleness and moderation? Bring them forth, if you please, and read them to those who are able to understand, and you will certainly be convicted, either of not having understood, or of making an effort to slander me in everything. And indeed, what would you not say, where it is not so easy to refute you, since you cast a slanderous tongue upon letters that are so manifestly innocent? But as to the saying, *Evil communications corrupt good manners* (1 Cor. xv, 32), it was indeed fitting for Paul to say this to the Corinthians; but for you to say it to us is in no way fitting, and perhaps D not even pure, nor holy. For either you lie in calling us Fathers, and thus it is not obscured to whom you surrender yourself as a son—namely, to the father of lies, with whom God destroys all who speak lies (Ps. v, 7)—or you speak the truth, and then you speak evil of the Fathers, and are thus worthy of the punishment which is decreed in the law for parricides. But how did we give our ears to that monk, if we were so far from trusting him that we even silenced those who were urging us toward the appropriate punishment with that saying of the Gospel: *Does our law judge a man, unless it first hears from him, and knows what he does?* (John vii, 51). And how did we condemn you while absent, when we called you that you might be present at the synod and clear yourself? For to call an accused person to his own defense, I do not think is to condemn him. But neither have I ever learned that it is a condemnation to restore that which he held to one who has been driven from his pasture, so that [note: the following words complete the page transition] subsequently a place may be given for a judgment regarding his title.
A If, however, you have established new laws and you demand that we learn them, abandoning the former ones, we shall demand of you with greater right that you first polish your tongue, so that you do not move the schoolboys to laughter and mockery whenever they read your letters filled with solecisms; and only then become a law-giver and teacher to us. You seem to me not even to have understood at all the imperial rescripts which the old man brought; for you would not have written to us that it seemed good to our mighty and holy emperor that the monk should not have his own cell. For this is clearly comprehended in that venerable decree. But by the things which your candid heart imputed to the Master of Petitions—as if the monk, having been compelled by us, gave him many pieces of "Michael-stamped" money as though it were the price of redemption—you are preparing a justification for yourself against the emperor’s decision, which is the same as to say that it was fabricated. Another person, hearing this matter, would pronounce the opinion of the Great Gregory: "The evil man easily condemns even the good, but the good man does not easily condemn even the evil." But I, knowing that the Master of Petitions is most intimate with the emperor for no other reason than that, in investigating the royal will, he never misses the mark of it, would rather believe that you are sometimes telling the truth (for it is not necessary that you should always be lying) than that that man has fabricated any falsehood, especially since he knows that such a thing is not pleasing to our emperor, who himself is subject to the true God and King of all. But let that matter stand with you as you wish. However, it was surely not fitting that he alone should enjoy such good fortune as to escape the tongue of slanderers, which cuts down even the best men in the presence of the worst ears. Yet, since you have always been accustomed to slander us, you could not bring yourself, even this time, to abandon this base habit. B Therefore, you slander us again in your letter, saying that we commanded you to renounce your right of episcopacy over the monastery: this is a manifest fabrication similar to others, in the inventing of which you have long been practiced. For we did not demand that you withdraw from your episcopal right, but from an unjust grievance. And we define as an "unjust grievance" that which is not confirmed by judgment, but fortified by tyranny, and so grave that it has no alleviation; for you are still inflicting more and greater miseries upon the banished monk, depriving him of every bodily comfort, if indeed those things which his brother recounted to the bishops in public, not without tears, are not entirely false. C In truth, the clemency which your honor has now decreed against the wretched old man is nothing less than interdiction from fire and water, a punishment which was prescribed by the ancient laws only for those who have sinned in the greatest and most extreme manner. And as for the final part of your letter, how could I willingly let it pass unexamined? For you said that...
if I am angry at you, must you necessarily stay away from the synod, so as not to become a cause of even greater scandal? A But, O best of fellow-bishops, this very thing provokes our indignation: that you refuse to obey when called to the synod, just as you do in other matters. Therefore, you only multiply the scandal; and you are insensible to the fact that you are acting as if, when seeing a physician angry at you because you drank wine while feverish, you were to beg him earnestly never to prescribe a drink of water for you, lest he might find another, even greater occasion for anger. But O, the madness with which you have been afflicted, since you have dared to write such things to a man who spares your infirmity and even strives to cover it! As if I desired to persecute your utter madness and ignorance more harshly, even if you were to descend alive into the depths of hell. B Perhaps I am speaking like a madman; but you force me to speak in this way. I, in fact, was even surprised by your impropriety in this: that you did not utter a single word about the bond of exclusion from sacred ministry which the monk said you imposed upon him; for you knew what follows from that, and for that reason you passed over it in profound silence. Therefore, we will add nothing here beyond what we thought it necessary to write in our previous letter; for those things are canonical and beyond all reproach. I have written these things to you in a manner contrary to my custom, because I observed that your swollen fury is increased by gentleness. Hence, setting that aside for a while, I have given you a somewhat bitter fruit of fire to taste. But oh that you might one day recognize who and what great person you are, with the Lord giving you understanding in all things: that He may repress and dissolve this great madness which we know is ingrained in you; and that He may transform the ferocity and wildness by which the old priest and monk is still tormented, into the gentleness and indulgence which befit a pontiff, a monk, and one who is now an old man.
XX. — From the letter to Tibanius the Armenian.
It is a matter of great madness to make one nature out of the union of the created and the uncreated, the passible and the impassible, and whatever other things are, on the one hand, proper to human nature, and on the other, to the divine. For although the natures were united, the properties of each nature nonetheless remained unchangeable. How then is there one nature, even after the union, which still preserves its own differences? Is not iron united with fire? And yet it remains a heavy body, and one having the same figure as it did before—for example, round, or oblong, or laminar, etc.—even though it has become bright and hot from the fire. And how does the human will, united to the divine will and remaining unconfused, as even they themselves affirm, not introduce a binary number of wills, namely its own and the divine? Let them answer me: did the Lord assume a natural will, that is, a human volition? Yes, certainly; but He deified the
A deifying and the deified. But they say, “They were united.” And I say the same. But if they had been fused by being united, one might say that they had become a confused unity, or rather that neither remained. But since, upon the union being made, they retain their own properties, how are they not two? But, they say, the human will was governed by the divine will, so that when the divine willed, then natural human nature would will, for example, to eat or drink, or to do some other natural thing. And I think so too. But if, when the divine will gave consent, then the human would will, you see that there was a human will in Christ—namely, the one that willed those human things which the divine will permitted. Is it not written in the Gospel: *He wanted to be hidden and could not* (Mark vii, 24)? How then did He will? Divinely or humanly? It was for this reason that He could not, because God willed that the human will be made manifest. And how was it made manifest, if it were not in Christ substantially, truly, and without change? For these things were not done according to imagination: God forbid. The human will, therefore, was united to the divine will. And since this conjunction was made without change and without confusion, it is a consequence that there were two wills even after the union. For the union did nothing else but to glorify and brighten those things B which were formerly dishonorable and inglorious. And that which is glorified does not thereby fall out of its own nature, but is rather restored to its own nature: for abjection and ignobility are from sin, which is against nature, although union with God is not something natural to us, but is above nature. Therefore, by the fact that the natural will was glorified and was willing those things which God gave it to will, it did not perish. Wherefore, if that existed, and the divine will also truly existed in Christ, there are clearly two wills even after the conjunction, marked by their own differences: just as in the case of iron ignited by fire, the fire has that which is united to the iron, so that it may burn and shine; and the iron has its own weight, mass, and shape; and as regards their subsistence, the properties of the fire and the iron are not separated from each other; but when they retain their natural differences, they show that both the fire and the iron remain as natures even after the union.
THE LETTERS OF THEOPHYLACT, ARCHBISHOP OF BULGARIA, LXXV
A Joanne Meursio Græce editæ et a Vincentio Marinerio Valentino de Græcis Latinæ factæ.
Letter I
A I give special thanks to him who lacerated me with the calumny of a shameful disgrace, my all-venerable protector; for he was the most certain author of my receiving the desired letter of your greatness. And this is what that proverb means, that anger and bile have their own usefulness at times. For as soon as I took the letter into my hands, I said that word of Daniel in the den, to those lions that are not fasting: "For God has remembered me." Thus I considered that I had obtained a divine gift. And I did not put on the bright garment of joy for this reason only, that you converse with me, but because you have granted me full power to reply to you, and have opened my mouth, which before, as if bound by a certain chain, was unable to murmur or speak freely. But indeed, I am an impediment to those who handle and manage public affairs as if with their hands. I easily allow that I am rightly among the common people, I who have so dreaded that Briareus, that even when some portend something by the stars, B I… [so that it is signaled by the stars]. *For not all are led by the same sort of zeal.* And that which Abraham at one point forbade to God—that He should destroy and corrupt the just man together with the wicked and impious—happens perhaps because those who perform these acts are not illuminated by any Spirit of wisdom and judgment. But if I should have set myself against others as an adversary, I do not possess such insane zeal as to imitate Margites, so as to oppose my equals entirely. For, *Not even the wise and very strong Lycurgus remained for long,* and the rest of the epic. Let the younger ones weave these things together. But it seems this also belongs to the past winter, during which those who [slander me]...