[517] falling into human errors, and approaching A unworthily, he is deemed worthy of such great condemnation. He who sins regarding the liturgy itself, and immediately insults the Lord’s body itself and denies it, invalidating the tradition and trampling upon him who delivered it—what charges and what punishment would he not be deserving of, and by how much worse? B Are the things said not full of horror? Is there any new kind of crime, prevarication, or impiety left which could be added to this boldness of wickedness? But deliver us, O Lord, through thy mercy from such imposture and madness—all those who do not rightly confess that the bread and wine consecrated by us are the perfect body and the precious blood of thy Christ.
ANNO DOMINI MCXCII. EUSTATHIUS THESSALONICENSIS METROPOLITA. NOTITIA.
(Fabric. Biblioth. Gr. ed. Harles, t. XI, p. 282. — Subjiciuntur notae quas addidit Opusculorum Eustathii editor, D. Theoph. Lucas Fridericus Tafel in libro De Thessalonica ejusque agro, p. 351).Eustathius Cpolitanus (a), monk of Saint Florus (b), or of that monastery which was near the house of the Holy Florus and Laurus in the city of Constantinople. For so I prefer, with Bauduri, to interpret the words regarding *the one at Florus*, in Demetrius Chomatenus, rather than with Du Cange, as *deacon at the house of Florus* (c). Then [he was] master of the petitions, master of rhetoricians (d), hence deacon of the Great Church of Constantinople (e), and, having been designated bishop of the church of Myra, [he became] archbishop, [namely] of Thessalonica, of distinguished virtue and C [learning].
(a) Where Eustathius was born, Fabricius has nowhere shown. For it is one thing to prove, another to assert. But he was by family and parentage a Constantinopolitan, which will be revealed through me. Eustathius in his account of the city of Thessalonica captured by the Latins, number 55: “We, therefore, having anticipated the plundering of the city, all who were children of Constantinople with us, were sent away (A.D. 1185.—of their own, etc.).” Eustathius’s family was monastic, as was the case with other clerics. (b) Demetrius Chomatenus in his response, etc. (Leunclavius, *Jus Græco-Rom.* vol. I, p. 517): “For that most wise Eustathius of the one at Florus, being a deacon of the Great Church and master of rhetoricians,” etc. What else will the Great Church be than that great [temple of] Sophia? That same thing seemed to me to be the case regarding the monk from the monastery of Saint Florus. What you will not have is the explicit naming of the church (i.e., monastery). For it is unknown to no one in Byzantine matters that churches and monasteries derived their names from their founders and from saints. What, then, is that: “churches *next to* Saint Florus”? At the end of this exposition I note that Eustathius was educated in Constantinople, and indeed in the monastery of Saint Euphemia. See his epistle 30: “And my good companions of old, the clerics of my benefactress, the holy Euphemia.” (c) The title of this office or court dignity, concerning which see Du Cange, s. v., is this: “He who is over the petitions.” You have an example of a supplication in Eustathius himself, epistle 17: “To the same, having been made [one] over the petitions.” “You have, behold, my all-venerable master, the first petition of Eustathius; and I happily inaugurate for you the office,” etc. (d) This office (namely, of professor of rhetoric), which Eustathius held at Constantinople, he himself refers to in epistle 45: “But to reproach [one] for being puffed up because we arrived at the sophistic rank, do not [accuse me] of being [so] still,” etc. (e) Eustathius alludes to his Constantinopolitan diaconate in epistle 34: “Proof is my fellow-servant and sometime fellow-deacon,” etc. While performing that office he wrote his Pindaric commentaries, the inscription of which is: “Of the same, [written] while still among the deacons, a prologue to the Pindaric commentaries.” To the same life of Eustathius, he adds other [works] of the highest D [labor].
EUSTATHIUS, METROPOLITAN OF THESSALONICA, flourished in the time of Manuel, Alexius, Andronicus, and Isaac Angelus Comnenus, being still alive in the year 1194. He is celebrated with great praise by Nicetas Choniates in his *Annals*, book VIII, pages 238 and 334, and by Michael Psellus in unpublished letters (some of which Du Cange cites in his *Greek Glossary*). Upon his death, Euthymius and Michael Choniates delivered funeral orations, the manuscripts of which are at Oxford in the Bodleian Library, codex Barocc. CXXI. Euthymius, among other things, celebrates the collection of letters which he claims to possess, written by Eustathius's own hand. Du Cange examined the letters of Eustathius to Psellus in the Royal codex, as noted on page 1296 of his *Greek Glossary*. Regarding his published, most abundant, and most learned commentaries on Homer, I have spoken in book II, chapter 3, as well as regarding the commentaries on Dionysius Periegetes, which he inscribed to the son of John Ducas and Andronicus Camaterus (concerning whom see above, page 286, old ed., book IV, chapter 2). In the same Barocci codex that I mentioned a little while ago, there are many more works of Eustathius as yet unpublished, such as an *Oration to the Emperor Manuel Comnenus*, and a *Supplication to the same Emperor* in the name of the city of Thessalonica, when it was suffering from drought. There is also a *Lament on the death of his brother*. In the catalogue of manuscripts in the Escorial library, I observed that an oration is mentioned, delivered by Eustathius, Archbishop of Thessalonica, to those who were in the temple of St. Demetrius at the beginning of the indiction in the year 6702 (A.D. 1194). Allatius cites Eustathius’s *Commentaries on the Canones or Hymns of St. John Damascene* in his *De consensu utriusque Ecclesiae*, pages 613–614, and in his *Diatriba de Georgiis*, page 319 et seq. (1).
The writings of the man are owed, namely the Homerica, the Dionysiaca, and the Aristophanea. Regarding the latter, see his own preface to the Pindarics, chapter 35. Of which church in Constantinople he was deacon, is not sufficiently clear. I would suspect the Sophian, matching the statement of Demetrius Chomatenus cited above: where it signifies nothing other than the chief of all the churches of the Byzantine realm, namely the Sophian or Hagia Sophia of Constantinople. Finally, I note that the title of the Eustathian commentaries on Dionysius, according to Bernhardy (p. 67), is exhibited thus: … whereupon it seems that one must insert the words: "For what will be?" Lastly, the order in which Eustathius was placed in his Constantinopolitan honors appears to be a matter of deeper investigation. (a) He certainly lived until the year 1192. Cf. Eustathius’s *Allocution to Isaac Angelus* after the flight of the Serbs.
EUSTATHIUS, METROPOLITAN OF THESSALONICA, ORATION ON PSALM XLVIII
A The oration of our Holy Father Eustathius, Metropolitan of Thessalonica, on that passage: "He labored into the age, and shall live unto the end." This didactic discourse treats also of alms, and humility, and fasting, and washing, and prayer, and the rest of the virtuous conduct.
1. It is not possible, brothers, for anyone among you who is slack or languid, or not entirely awake to what is good, to find anywhere a praise that is pleasing to God, or anything else of beauty. For we know that nothing of those things which are desirable in this life is granted to men without labor and study, not even those things which serve to nourish the body, since food and sustenance do not come to men freely or spontaneously. For other animals are accustomed to graze and grow fat on fodder that grows spontaneously, provided by the bounty of nature—but man, the finest animal in the world, the work of God, destined for the labor of…
divine works, man, I say, was not created for listlessness, but is destined for constant motion. When he lives rationally, he will always labor, and he will be soaked in sweat, and he will strive to do good; and in this way he will reach his desires, not simply through himself alone, but with God as his helper.
B 2. So far is it from the case that, because man is set as lord over the things on earth, he ought to be permitted to languish and surrender himself to leisure and cease from good labors, that by this very fact he ought to be urged all the more to pursue what is beautiful and to apply himself to the virtue by which the dominion divinely granted to him is adorned. For it has been handed down, and it cannot be denied, that he who enjoys greater authority is entangled in very many cares: wherefore even the emperor had need of such study and meditation and labor, that he could not sleep even for a whole night.
3. Therefore, if every human being, and especially the zealous man, is lord of the things on earth, let him consider and meditate on being master of himself alone—that is, as the old proverb says, to care for no one else—and of the others whom God has set under him; and let him not wish to become a possessor of virtuous things without labor, being deceived by vain hope like those who trust in dreams and imagine that things desired are already present to them. But rather, let him turn his mind to that ancient philosopher who, in order to mock those who desire to enjoy good things but refuse to acquire the desired objects through labor, devised a certain fable about ease. He said there was once a time when the victim was living, but cooked and roasted meats ran effortlessly to the tables of men living happily in blessed dwellings; furthermore, torrents of sweet liquids flowed at the beck and call of those who desired them; delicious birds also, flying to the guests at the tables, cast themselves entirely into their mouths, ready for eating; and finally, fish cooking themselves, once they were toasted by the fire on one side, would of their own accord turn themselves to the other side, and having thus become ready to season the table, and being lifted up, they tumbled onto the tables; and so the feasters of that time lived in luxury without any labor.
D 4. That wise man set these things forth, speaking wittily against the Ascræan muse (as one might astutely understand), since she, in the way a skilled craftsman knows how to smelt gold and draw it into various forms, represented the ancient race of men as though it were golden. And this was, indeed, from the beginning. Afterward, however, he demoted it to silver, and said that for those who lived then, death was sweet, like sleep, and followed upon a life that was pleasant and devoid of labors and pains. But while that wise man charmingly related this fable and soothed the ears with dreams of every kind of luxury, he did not poorly, I think, mock those who gape in vain, and who, through empty longing, open their bosoms and stretch out their hands.
B
5. We must struggle, then, my brothers, and labor, and toil, and sweat for good things, so that we may not in any other way, but by this way alone, succeed in accomplishing what is good. And while I could bring forward as a witness the saying, "Nothing succeeds without labor," I cite it as something external, not wanting to be wordy to such an extent. Having countless other things (not, as some boastful man might say, to vomit them forth, but to bring them forward conveniently), I omit them, declining to be untimely ambitious. But having opportunely culled from the sacred treasury of Scripture a holy sign—in which the great prophet, the most holy David, delineated the divine mind, even as if on a Sinaitic tablet—I shall read to you the words concerning the man beloved of God, saying, "He has labored unto the age, and he shall live unto the end." That is to say, he did not labor only when he had the ability, but throughout his whole life; for "age" is accepted in a deeper sense to denote the time of any human life. Therefore, such a one will find an end of living well and happily, just as if someone, having labored miserably in tilling the earth or navigating the sea and having acquired through such toils the necessities of life, should lack something of what he needs for the future, especially when burdensome old age C descends, when sweet labors fail and the hardships of troublesome old age begin, when, in fact, we have passed the eightieth year, as David sings. For then he who has labored during this "age"—that is, during his whole life, first the youthful, then the prime of life, and next the elderly, after which the sinews of those who labor are relaxed—he will live unto the end, through those things for which he previously labored, having stored them up for a future life, not like ants, which labor from year to year to live, but as it beseems a man living in the manner of a lord or king, and as someone who has been established in this exalted state by God Himself.
6. But we must add to the ways by which he who has labored unto the age shall live unto the end, those [ways] of beneficence and true friendship. For he who labors with the love of God, and does so continuously, and thus provides for himself the things from God—who gives nourishment to all flesh D—and also he who distributes from his own resources to those in need, according to his ability, and who also provides to his friends what is appropriate, will find from this source, in his old age, support for his life, because those very people to whose needs he had previously ministered will pay back the necessities and, as far as possible, will perform their duty toward him, and will show themselves honest and return thanks. But if, perhaps, the memory of the good deed should slip from their minds, yet God, who distributes abundantly, and who is the arbiter of friendship and the rewarder of our good works, will not permit him not to live unto the end, as the Prophet declared, but He will reward [him] and…
and add to the principal, as if also paying back interest. For the man who is diligent throughout the entirety of his life, which is precarious and, so to speak, opportune and fleeting, and who pays what he owed to the most wealthy and most truthful Master, God, and who brings to fruition the laborious work of his life, will rest at the end. And this timely labor shall not result in any evil for him, as if it were a blow, but he will live without any labor—since toil is not attributed to the pure life, but [is] the labor of health.
B 6. Thus, having traversed the exposited Psalmic passage in a humbler manner, I wish to process it in another, higher way. For the former interpretation that was proposed is not poor; yet, because it is of this world, the second one, which is separated for the world to come and clings to eternal life, would not be wanting in a virtuous sense. "And he labored," he says, "unto the age, and he shall live unto the end." And for the time being, it must be anticipated that we are about to understand "age" now, not the one here for us—those who are mortal by body—the age of our life, the one measurable without labor, the one easily numbered, the one that is both indefinite and yet made finite, the one that is temporal, even if it were extended nearly to a thousand years; but [rather] the latter one, the truly infinite, the immeasurable, the one that is nothing compared to us who are short-lived humans here, the one not commensurate with the world but fitted only to God, and extended together with that infinity which belongs to Him; the future, the eighth, the unceasing and interminable one, and for this reason called the "end," entirely most persistent, and beyond which and after which there is no other end, so that one might say there is not even an end, just as one would rightly say that the kingdom of God will not have an end.
C 7. These things having been thus presumed, we must apply ourselves to the exposited Davidic utterance in this way as well. "He labored," he says, not simply, but the man of virtue, looking as if to a set goal, that infinite age, not looking to the one here, which is clearly finite, and thus laboring only for the life below and the labored goods that come from it; but directing and forming himself only toward that latter one and only toward the things that are there. How does he accomplish this? By measuring this narrow age against that most wide one, and the temporal life, which is here, against that unceasing life there; and thus setting worldly things alongside the supramundane, and exchanging the former for the latter. Therefore, also laboring for such an age, he shall live unto an unceasing end—or to speak fittingly, and properly, and truly—towards the most complete, and as we might say, the most perfect [end]. And such is this, and may it be that this also is well.
8. If, then, the good must be added to twice in a fitting manner, it must also be applied a third time, and a third explanation of the Davidic utterance must be given, which lies somehow in accord with the previous one, and it must be said in the first place that it is mysteriou
mysterious, which we have received concerning the eternal retribution of the good things of life and the recompense for the sins committed while we live here. For it has been debated why God punishes eternally there him who commits limited sins in this world. To the solution of this question the most wise Psalmist of God hints in the passage just mentioned, and at least indirectly and according to the sense, puts forward an explanation against which no Christian will firmly attempt to contend. The sense of the Psalmist, however, is this: the man who is good and studious of virtue, on account of a life, albeit very short, consecrated to virtue, shall attain to eternal goods, inasmuch as he has mortified his flesh with labors and struggles, because of an unshaken hope for the life there. And thus with a philosophic disposition and communion, as from the opposite of this theme, he solves that controversial problem, supposing that the just man is busied in the present age of human life, not as chance may have brought it (for this would be of barely any value), but most laboriously, and with long-enduring and continuous and exclusive and, if I may so say, unique and eternal labor, insofar as he struggles throughout his whole life without intermission.
10. For he did not labor, he says, with certain intervals, at one time and another, but once did he labor unto eternity, that is, in a manner proportionate to the age measured out to him here on earth. Since, therefore, he lived this entire age of his in a way pleasing to God, he shall justly live even "unto the end," B that is, forever, and even to the depth of an infinite age, whose limit is infinity. And that the man himself is universally a permanent end, and has no rest as some other thing, is of a nature to be perfected, to be secondary to Him, existing as an age of ages, the limit of which no one could even conceive, and the end of ages before it, yet without rest; thus ending the others, just as if he himself laid a seal upon them. And this indeed is becoming to God, namely, to restore grace worthy in return for grace to him who truly and always loved Him, and to render an infinite age for the age of this world in which His servant labored, an age, I say, infinitely raised above human things, and proper to Him, by the law of friendship which commands that the goods of friends be common.
11. Now, if this is so C (and it cannot be otherwise), it will follow by demonstration from the opposite that a man who has not labored for the age, nor lived unto the end like the holy man, but [has lived] a life altogether different and contrary to his, will be in the opposite state regarding the quality of life. For if that one lives eternally in good things because the soul is immortal, the rest of them, the sinner namely, will live in a different way, indeed in things not good, yet eternally, because the same soul is not subject to death. And the sense, to be brief, is such as this: The just man labored for his whole life in this world, therefore he will live there in joy, D enjoying eternal happiness with God; but he who did not compose his life and morals in the same way, will indeed live in any case, yet otherwise,
A entangled in excessive labors and suffering severely in that he is subjected to punishments, and in that he sees the just man not participating in a life of the same length as his own, but rather existing in the good things in which the angels rejoice. So much so that, as far as it depends on him, he would not even wish to enjoy a long life, but would prefer the death of the soul over an everlasting punishment. Consequently, the enjoyment and the punishment, concerning which the discourse has just been, will justly be eternal. And just as he who served as a dispenser of virtue in his life, while the world contained him, will always exist there delighting in things transcendent, so also he who is an outcast, by whom things should not have been (done), suffering always and wretchedly there, will not, I think, even dare to cast an eye toward the place of delight. For the retribution there will be made similar to the entire time one has spent here; but the time here is eternal, therefore the time there is also eternal.
12. And the analogous eulogy is of this meaning: he who has labored for an age will live for an age, so that the labors of the age which God, foreknowing, assigned here to the good man, will be set aside for an age of retribution for the life of that same man. And conversely, of necessity, the man who has been negligent in the whole of this age will indeed live in the age there, but not in the same way as the just man, but will be reckoned as a corpse of that age. B And one might say of him, "How well it would have been if that man had not been born into the world!" And one will add, having collected this from the most holy Gospel concerning both these men—the one who labored throughout the age and will live in the end in the abundance of good things, and the one who went astray in the opposite way—that justly the one who was faithful over a few things here will multiply into an ineffable state of things there, while he who acted wickedly over those few things in this life will be established over nothing.
13. But let us return from this good—I would not call it a digression, but as it were a fork in the road—to the proposed point of virtuous conduct. We must give ourselves to these things, and one must toil as is appropriate for human beings (since there is no relaxation and yielding, nor does anyone sleeping raise a trophy... but he who is working... and managing peaceful affairs accomplishes what is good). And one must toil not simply so that we may live according to the flesh—for we will do this even against our will, and even if it were not our desire, we would surely have to labor, lest hunger also become a burden to us C if we remain idle—but so that we may also please God, and that we ourselves and our works may be blessed immediately. Let this toil be a fellow-laborer with worldly toils toward the pleasing of God, being appropriate to that one, singular end toward which we cannot cease throughout our life. And let no one of those who are in the world, and who look to a wife and the turmoil of affairs, say to brothers who have become situated outside the world and this life that he is not able to apply himself to the labors practiced for the sake of God. For such a person will be proven to be of ignorant judgment and one who does not pay attention to what we are saying. For we chastise relaxation among you; we do not command the intensity. Relaxation D
A we avoid, but we are not forcing the unbending; from sleep as if to a very soft state we arouse him, we do not drive away him who is resting. Therefore, allow the monks to struggle and contend bravely; you, however, pursue the virtuous good loosely, as far as you are able.
14. Those voluntary ones lift up the yoke of the Lord, which is sometimes heavy, placed upon them; in the same way, you also carry that which, as our Savior himself said, is light and beneficial; and thus, like them, though proportionally, you too shall be blessed. Waiting, that I may speak with David, they wait for the Lord, B as unshakable columns leaning upon his commandments: do you also do the same, as firm little columns, and as with them, so will the Lord be present with you. They labor even to sweat, moistened as if in a bath, and they wet their beds with tears; but for each of you to whom such divine moisture has not been granted (for we know that those gushing and falling like rain through compunction are gifts of God), instead of salutary sweat, a cup of cheerful water poured through you into the mouth of a poor man for the refreshment of his inner self will suffice. And if some wine is also added C to gladden the heart of such a man, then, my brother, you will no longer have need to aspire to the highest peak of virtue in such a way as to pray with sweat. For that sweet cup of almsgiving is reckoned to you in place of bitter sweat, and thus the drink which you have liberally mixed will accurately compensate for the sweat, and the mercy with which you have moistened an indigent brother, and the gentle eye looking upon him and expressing the joy of humanity, will be reputed to have the force and virtue of tears.
15. But if besides this visible fountain, that lower one, I mean, the mouth, sends forth a consolatory word, and at the same time with the word a tear bursts forth, which, as it has not been wiped away by the hand, descends into the bosom, and from there as well promises consolation to the brother, then the virtue of such a man is conspicuous and to be praised in three kinds of goods, namely, a gentle look, a mild conversation, and a beneficent action. When you possess these three, I do not know of what sweats and tears those can still boast who occupy themselves with perpetual prayers and frequently prostrate themselves, D so that they even wish to move you to bend your knees, so that you may become in part like them. And what of him who beyond measure... provoking to temperance him who has been instructed by us? It is fitting in every way to bend your knees, religious brother, as much as you can; but when you are not able, offer your prayers to God erect, not bending the knee, according to that most holy man, of whom it is said: "That servant of God stood in the calamity, and he propitiated, and the evil ceased," and he remained tied and twisted in such sadness until satiety; moreover, his Mosaic hands, not supported on the ground, where the prophet was fatigued, represented by the figure of the future miracle of the cross, erected toward heaven, and thus they drew down divine aid through prayer.
A 16. Mime also the masters here, none of whom, with face fixed upon the earth, benefited those who learn while teaching. Remember also that saying: "Jesus stood in a level place, and a great multitude of his disciples was around him"; he did not, therefore, bend his knees. And even though there is much profit in the bending of the knees, and in the shedding of sweat, and in the flowing of drops of blood themselves and tears, and in the weariness even to the numbing of the limbs, yet I, knowing God and his power, by which he bestows all good things upon men, and does nothing in vain, but adapts them in part to the strength and in part to the weakness of men, I say that those things which you cannot attain, I set down as supreme virtue. But as for how many and what kind of things are relegated to those great struggles and labors and toils, I assign them to the account of symmetry, which most men of our time aim at, and especially those who are secular, and who necessarily happen to be in the midst of the tumult and business of everyday life. These I urge toward good works appropriate to the present time, and reminding them of the bowing of the knees, concerning which our discourse was B lately, I say also that he who bends his soul, and inclines his carnal focus, and makes the supposedly conspicuous pride lack luster, so that he may live as it were in hiding, and not pursue what is conspicuous, but in all things around him humbles his high-brow and airy conceit down to the earth—that man would have no need of the bending of the knees, throwing his whole self down to the earth in humility, and already considering himself as like a worm, not even worthy to appear above the earth.
17. Let the humbling of the knee, therefore, be an antidote for you, O brethren. And since the bowing down to the earth is a symbol of humility, when you are not able to perform it, humble yourselves with your whole soul; but considering otherwise that the bending of the knees to the earth is a bodily act that hinders you from walking, strive to progress in every other way, in the various paths of virtue. For God will account this to you as a good, no less than if you had bent your knees, since rising and resting is more natural and more effective and more useful for the active life; furthermore, if a man bends himself well, he should also stand upright better in order to please God; finally, a noble movement is superior to immobility, and it is better to turn oneself readily in any direction than to stand fixed in the same place on one foot.
C 18. Furthermore, if you are not able, O brother living in the world, to fast, eat with moderation, so that you may not pass your time in sloth. Just as one fire is that which serves the uses and conveniences of men, and another is that which devours the mountain forest (for the one is useful, but the other, being of no use at all, consumes the trees), so too, food consumed in moderation preserves a man, providing him with the warmth appropriate to nature; but when accepted immoderately, it kindles into the flame of pernicious passions, by which one who is intemperate in luxury is delivered over to eternal fire. By bathing, strip yourself of filth, even if otherwise, as they say, brick...
doing so, and furthermore applying yourself to washing for the preservation of health, lest your body, as a servant who is unwell, becomes useless to you. For I say to you, just as washing is not forbidden, but rather even redounds to the praise of those who are cleaner, lest they become loathsome to some, so too is it with bathing. And I say this not as one who abhors those who do not wash, but as one who judges that [lack of washing] to be good due to the constancy of labor and the continuous disregard for good health, while I approve of this [bathing] because of that saying: "Wash yourselves, be clean." [19.] If I had read somewhere, "Become filthy, so that you may be unclean," I would never have washed.
Furthermore, since life draws you to itself, so that you are not able to be engaged in perpetual prayers to the Lord God of all, offer Him at least B some annual, or to speak more accurately, hourly fruits—whenever the occasion presents itself—just as David somewhere says that he will praise the Lord at all times. For if faithful royal servants are indeed always present to that King himself, yet are not prevented from living for themselves as well, but take leisure in their own time and eat, and drink, and sleep, and perform certain tasks necessary for them, and the good king is not only not angry, but even kindly encourages them to do these things, much more does God indulge such good things to His worshippers, regarding the means of each; just as He who grudges not that there are doors affixed to most holy temples, which are opened at the time of psalmodies and the celebration of sacred rites, but in turn are closed when there is no longer time for performing such things. For of necessity in these matters as well, a certain rest from the perpetual and as if infinite singing of hymns is conceded, and the salutary labor of those who worship God cannot but be interrupted. And thus, in general, it will be best to maintain C the mean in all things.
[20.] One must work, therefore, and again I say this, in a matter which requires rest and relaxation. For just as you could not rightly say that one who has not first stood up has sat down, neither can you say that one who has not labored has been raised up, or that one who has not toiled has rested. But if a passion should follow this good labor—which some say is a distress, provided it is according to God and is wise, that is, according to the law of God and the rational law—then one who acts in such a way might perhaps fall into what is lawless. For we have learned that there is a labor which, having conceived, brings forth iniquity; and such a labor is that of those who are aggrieved and, as it were, pained and mentally tortured because they have not inflicted some harm upon their brothers. For indeed there are some, O brothers in Christ, who have come to be, from the diametrically opposite position, D those who say, "Today I have not reigned, for I have done nothing good," whereas these, on the contrary, saying: "On this day we have not lived, for we have not appeared terrible to our countrymen and...">
A inaccessible and unapproachable." Now these, being frenzied and harboring a savage madness within, are in truth not men, but beastly—I hesitate to say demonized, for they, and they alone, have a great burden and heavy grief and anger that they cannot always strike down whichever person they may wish.
21. May God, while leading them to punishment, preserve us free from such men, and may He grant that no one of us be led away with them, nor labor entirely in vain, producing nothing whatsoever that is useful to this age nor congruous to that final, everlasting, and eternal one, according to the will of God, in such a way that we bring forth nothing at all that is in the least bit good and profitable. For if we labor thus in vain here, we are cast out of eternal goods, and if in this life we are miserably afflicted with the care of trivial things and those of little account, we are alienated from the most worthy and divine things. For we do not even consider ourselves worthy to gather in the temple of God, as we are anxious about foolish things, and otherwise distraught about many matters; we are very eager to be worldly, but lazy about becoming inhabitants of paradise, not reflecting that, while passing through such a life, we neither give the share to the seven, according to what is divinely written, nor do we allot even a mite to the eight. B
22. Therefore, I pray that those who enter the sanctuary of God, and who always count themselves worthy of such a good, neither labor against men nor exert themselves against their countrymen—seeing that it is in vain and for nothing that one might labor even against those who are simply strangers, unless perhaps those enemies of God or the king have fallen away—nor that they labor against those who are guilty of nothing, who are fellow-believers (to call them plainly, fellow-Christians); but that each one should hate such a labor and say, "This is a toil before me," cutting off and severing the fellowship according to the Spirit, and, so to speak, pulling apart the divine integrity of the members. "Nevertheless," he says, "this suffering will be a trial to me, C because I do not come into the sanctuary of God; but from then on, as if preparing to descend into the arena, through which I shall put to flight and drive away the demons that pursue me, I shall cast off this troublesome payment of taxes... to those who flee to God, and, being illuminated by God, as by the super-resplendent sun, I shall cast off such a shameful and abominable stain."
23. If, then, we become such through the love of neighbor and harmony, which God delivers through the holy Scriptures, and through spiritual unanimity and tranquility—which he who does not love is tossed about by wicked spirits—and if we choose to be burdened, as servants of God, with that which He, as a Father, clearly lays upon us, and to labor as He commands: then He who has taken away our sins, and wishes us to bear our burdens spiritually, will not allow us to be driven around in vain and worn out like those who are burdened with things D not pleasing to Him. But since His burden
is of great humanity, He notices the slightest movement, and on the scales of judgment, if He sees even an iota or one grain weighing in favor of our good, He tilts it toward our benefit and places it in the treasury worthy of His scales. As often as we have been tripped up by the wicked adversary and have fallen or been cast down and then risen again, He prevents him from mocking us further, and places us in safety from his snares. So now, therefore, B since you have been formed again and have rightly returned to your senses in your labor—not laboring simply, but as the man of God is appointed to do—He will not let you be unnecessarily burdened and worn out in the struggle of sin, but rather He will refresh you. May we all, O brothers, become thus acceptable to God through His benevolent mercy. Hear us, O Lord Savior, who are blessed unto the ages. Amen.
BY THE SAME ORATION DELIVERED AT THE BEGINNING OF THE YEAR
1. God Himself truly blesses every year, O brothers, and such a blessing does not appear to be a mere gift, but a reciprocal return. For God, when blessed by us, returns a blessing upon our affairs. Yet God is blessed by men not only through the glorifications of hymns and other means by which they give Him thanks, but especially by the good actions of life, the aim of which takes its beginning from God and returns back to Him; and thus he magnifies and glorifies Him, while the soul of the one who does what is best, and of those who look towards Him and are improved by imitating him, is suffused with joy and gladness. C 2. And so that this may appear more clearly, I must speak at greater length. The first creation of the world and the liberal offering of earthly goods that was then reserved for man—as for a king—even before he was created, this was a pure and simple gift. For God had not yet received any good thing from men which He might repay with liberality, but He gave of His own accord. And perhaps He would continue to give even to this day, according to His supreme wisdom, if an innate evil will, the mother of all sins, had not crept in and prevented it. But now...
A for that reason God no longer gives so spontaneously, but prefers to have us render back according to a certain reciprocity convenient to Him.
3. Yet it is necessarily fitting for the Good to give good things, and to receive such in return. For an evil giver takes pleasure both in giving and receiving, to whom the name "good" is falsely applied; but a good man would not wish, nor even would a human who has B any involvement in affairs, to be stained—much less the all-good Lord, from whom and through whom is every good. Let us, therefore, all be Christians, and labor as much as is in our power, not to receive simply from God, but to render back. But he receives a return who has also given beforehand. And such a person possesses what is given with honest conviction and a good conscience, inasmuch as he has what is given to him not as a gift, but as a reward; especially when he considers that to brute animals, which lack reason, all things that seem good to God are bestowed freely, and therefore, without sowing or plowing, they receive the nourishment they need, granted by God. But it is not fitting for a human to receive in this same way; rather, it should be by a kind of covenant, yet not such as usually passes between merchants, but in proportion to how a human ought to be considered in relation to God—that is, as man is most destitute, and God most rich.
4. For what could a human give to God that is worthy? How could he strike a bargain for equality? All things are given to us freely from Him, even if we strive to give beyond our C powers. Nothing is a counterweight, nothing is equal. As a grain is to the heaven, so do our affairs stand in relation to the divine; and as nothing is to the universe, so are our affairs to heavenly gifts. And yet, I do not propose that proverbial saying: "Give something, and receive something," but "Give something commensurate, and receive the incommensurate," or rather, "Give the small, and receive the highest." What is that small? A right mind that loves the truth; an unpolluted tongue; to not gnash teeth at the innocent; to not gather in the mouth the pollutions of blasphemies; to love sincerely; to love truly; to hate dissimulation and those who indulge in it; to not be contaminated by abominable things, whether people or deeds; to not serve falsehood; to not speak evil of the innocent; to not craftily compose one's face to simulate friendship; to punish those whom God decrees to be punished; to not do injury to those who trust in God, who does not accept D a person in judgment; to not sell justice for money received; to not admit those who provoke to injustice—not to mention to separation from the Church, and especially those of the clergy, which, however detestable, is accustomed to happen at this time.
5. For by saying this, I put it to the hearers to understand that the Church is also ill. And indeed, O friends, this holy body is truly ill, and primarily in some of its fingers. For there is no reason for me to blame its other venerable members. But I call these fingers, not those that in the manner of God cast out demons (as...
indeed, how could those of the Idaean Dactyls be such?); but rather those who write what is not permitted, and who set themselves up as scribes against us: whose first author is a disordered mind, then a tongue acting as a midwife, bringing forth in various ways, now casting them into the air, and now wrapping them in books; and nourishing them against us, of what kind? Of what sort? Of those who have either harmed or are harming? Allow me to speak with confidence in God, against us who have treated them well both publicly and privately; publicly, because they themselves became participants in the goods granted to the entire sacred clergy; privately, because both they and their sons—which is the most important thing to consider—have received special benefits. B
6. Listen, O heaven, and give ear, O earth. Some of those deemed worthy of blessed memory, who preceded our humility (I say some, not all), bequeathed money to the entire council of venerable priests, one in one way and another in another: this man to the clergy of the Holy Sophia of the Word of God, that man to the Great Church of our most holy Lady the Mother of God, another to the priests of the temple of the great martyr who protects our city and exhales sweet odors, whose miracles rely upon the ointment that ever flows, so that the ointment relies upon the miracles. In memory of that distribution of legacies, various solemnities are celebrated, one more significant than the other, and those who arranged them are extolled with joyful acclamations. And this is good. For if there were anything reprehensible in it, I would not have praised it; but that I have praised it, the deeds themselves have shown. For when two solemnities at the greatest of the holy churches of this metropolis were yet to be celebrated, I truly undertook that praiseworthy office in honor of God and his saint. Since, therefore, the ecclesiastical fingers ought to have offered me thanks with their writings, they move the quill against me. C
7. Where, indeed, will there be for me a praiseworthy memorial like those who preceded me, each one of whom I surpass with such grace? He knows what I say, the expenditure on the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, and indeed that of the Great Second Day. But yet, even if we are despised by men, do you, O God the Savior, deign to grant us that which we endeavor after with all zeal, and this will suffice for every solemn commemoration. And you too, present day, from which the annual crown begins anew, bear witness to us of what we have done in the most famous temple of our holy, fragrant one, that it itself may testify that we have paid what is, as it were, our tribute, occurring in the month of March at the beginning of spring. And this too is of God and of his saint and great martyr, who renders us healthy and holy. D
8. O remaining glorious solemnities, in which we have taken small coins that could scarcely fill a palm, scattered hither and thither, and have made them seem like greater ones, so that they have filled both hands even more than the reaper who is commemorated in the Psalms. What shall I say of the gatherings and the
A spiritual assemblies, of the guests who, though not blood relations, were yet of the same earthly origin, whom I, wretch that I am, seemed to have as companions—not insofar as they drank with me, but insofar as they were my commensals according to the Holy Spirit? I pass over the rest in silence, lest anyone, holding them of little account, should deem me a miser and a churl, someone who would split hairs, as the saying goes. I am silent, too, regarding any other expenses incurred or being incurred for incidental matters, for ornaments, and the like, in which I confidently affirm that God takes delight. For thus there will be those who say that these things do not pertain to us Fathers, a position that seems no different than if a steward were to make certain expenditures for the master’s house, and fellow-servants were to deny that any expenses should be made except those that serve for their own benefit. Now, in truth, the head of the household would in no way rejoice at such language; rather, in my opinion at least, he would praise the steward.
B 9. But now that I have summoned the heavens and the earth to hear, it is my pleasure to append the following words of that prophetic saying. And indeed, that I have produced children, there is no reason to say (for who am I compared with the nature of God and those who, by their likeness to Him, have become almost gods?), but those procreated carnaly by others and, as it were, abandoned, I have heaped with the goods by which life is adorned, and yet I have been despised by them. Others, however—I do not say that I have exalted and promoted them—nevertheless, to the benefits that they had already received from other archbishops, I have added even greater ones; wherefore I consider their ingratitude not to be fortuitous, but to have proceeded from a hostile mind, and to be reckoned among the greatest calamities.
C 10. But these, inasmuch as they bear the image of God, and though created beautiful in the beginning, have later been corrupted by their own vain and senseless obstinacy, I entrust to God, the most wise and excellent Creator, that according to His patience He may direct them and lead them back to a respectability and virtue pleasing to Him, and thus, in place of the blessings by which He is celebrated by them, He may deign to bless the beginnings of the year with His own benediction.
D 11. But I also address the people of God now present, and simultaneously exhort those who at this moment lend an ear to our words. For among them are men who, moved I know not whence, pretend to convert us to what is good, as if we were sinners, and therefore carry themselves as our masters, though they teach absolutely nothing; indeed, whatever we do or say, they find fault with even our very breath, as the proverb has it. To the whole assembly of God, therefore, we address words of blessing, invoking upon it, to be sure, that which we just mentioned. And first, indeed, we call to their memory from what state unto what state our affairs have been brought.
12. How great have the benefits of the good God been but a short time since, which, as if in books, adhere to your minds, so that they might be read by the multitude! Nor am I ignorant of them. The fruits of the earth abounded like the sand; the bread of…
A that strengthens [the heart]; wine that gladdens the heart; the seasonable rain; that heavenly milk, or second manna; the temperate wind, which moves every plant as if for exercise; the mild winter; the pleasant summer (these seasons, which are wont to grieve us by their excess, the one by cooling, the other because it warms to excess); the fertile spring, and all-productive, and sweet to the temperate [disposition]; the late-autumn season, the fruits of which (whence it also has its name) abound in better things. Among these shines forth the honeyed fig, and the beautiful cluster, which is also a kind of nurse, so to speak, offering each of its berries, as much as a teat, as a provider of food and drink.
13. For that winter of ours was a certain provider of future goods, through which the year is named most fertile; it cleaved the earth, in the bosom of which the crops were stored, lying hidden like infants soon to come into the light, until the opportune time should arrive; and furthermore, it opened the trees to receive moisture and rendered them fit for bringing forth fruits in their own time, and did many other things, like a father who provides skillfully for the nurturing of his children. At the same time, both crops and plants received life from the rain sent from heaven, and from the cold snows and ice and frosts appropriately given. For the rain softens and opens the inner parts of the earth, and thus renders the earth rich and strong for the growth B and prosperity of the crops; but the snows and the rest, of which I spoke just now, restrain and bind those fruits with fixed boundaries, so that they might not rush forth to the light at an untimely season and be corrupted, as is wont to happen in miscarriages and premature births. Since, therefore, the winter had been useful to the earth in such a way, it also showed itself mild toward the sea, neither raging cruelly against the fish of the sea, nor utterly swallowing up ships and sailors.
14. Such, therefore, to speak in passing, were those winters. But spring, the all-nourishing mother of those who manage us, of which we are the foster-children, which first shone forth with the creation of the world, [the queen] of the annual vicissitudes, as someone rightly philosophized, the leader among the seasons, in enjoyment the most sweet, and in mixture the most excellent—it produced those [goods] and those alone in all our things, as many as God caused to shine upon it, and the sophists praised with words, those myriads: some of which C the outer courtyard held, but others the inner sancta of the most divine house.
15. Then summer brought forth for us the beautiful abundance of every fruit, such as those who labor around the earth pray for, and as many as otherwise attend to them. But the autumn—yet even it desired to vie with the seasons that preceded it, so far as it was able. And it not only gave the good things belonging to it, among which the beautiful clusters of grapes are preeminent, but also strove to equal the fruit-season before it, by ripening fruit itself, and providing pleasure, so far that the autumn seemed to be deceiving [us in its name]. It also stole something D of the summer's majesty. For the all-seed harvest from it...
extending its abundance for a long time, also filled the threshing floors, and made the storehouses full through the crushing of the sheaves, provided that there was any empty space. For the majority had even their vessels thoroughly searched, yet they held the great bounty of the earth. The then-fading autumn had something against the spring as well, acting youthfully. For, because of its double fertility, some of the plants began to bloom, and then, also promising fruit, it gave, as it were, a sign to those who looked upon them. Yet it was overcome, however, by the rest of the abundance, [namely] the excessive weight of the must. A
16. Such were the things for us before this, when God was both blessed and was blessing, and receiving, he gave in return. But now everything is the opposite, which is truly what is said. For the seasons belie their own, respective operations. And the winter season, having abandoned the humidity proper to it—on account of which winter is named for "pouring down" it so abundantly upon the earth—has been transformed into drought. And instead of mud and marshes, by which the earth is held fast and remains heavy below, it is broken up into dust—one might rightly say, summer dust—or it is divided into atoms. The air for the most part wishes to be tempered toward a spring or even a summer-like state; but whenever it even considers being winter, it then overextends itself, and becomes a burden not only to the sky, as someone said, but it also confounds the entire mass between it and the earth, and thus deprives the whole [universe] of its name, "cosmos" [order]. For how could the whole be called "cosmos," where the ultimate lack of order boasts itself? B And even the sea itself, at that time, strips off its life-giving and friendly nature toward the world, rising up to the heavens, and by its fissures revealing the naked abyss, so that those who sail upon it are thought to be cast down into Hades—this is something confessed by all—while the animals in it not only find it impossible to linger freely for our benefit, but they do not even have a place where they might dive and live in safety. And so, the sea, too, has become raging, no longer being what it was ordered by God to be. Upon the earth, other evils are inflicted, as men are reluctant to exist if such things happen in this way; and other animals do not behave differently themselves (consequently, they do not even appear to those who seek them, but hide themselves from the sight of men, some in one way and some in another); and of the plants—the large ones, the medium ones, and those that creep upon the earth—[both] those that grow naturally, and those that are forced by skill to be torn away from the mother earth, so that such a winter lies about its mildness, when it even shows a certain gentleness, and [it manages] neither to truly moderate the wintry wildness, nor to make the mildness true. For where is there mildness in that which causes total destruction? C D
17. Surpassing such a bitter winter, the sweetness of spring is itself deprived of its pure sweetness. For since the winter has compressed and packed the earth so that it could not recover into the sprouting of grass, even the spring season has nothing that it might nourish; and if it has any, it is entirely weak.
and withered and likely never to reach perfect maturity. Or even if it should finally arrive at a fruit to be eaten, the fruit is most meager, or it lacks marrow, and so it miserably deceives the farmer in the good hope he conceived; what is more, the zephyrs themselves, blowing at that time, seem to be in some weakness and labor, preventing them from strengthening the crop as is fitting.
18. Summer follows, leaving the farmers’ hands empty of sheaves, since it warms the earth in vain, or even burns it to such a degree that those who cultivate it are consumed by the heat of sadness. Finally, autumn succeeds, exhibiting nothing of its accustomed beauty, but offering only a slight taste and exciting desire. It departs at last, not—as in the fable of Tantalus—being lifted on high. For his autumn was seen rising on high, but to us, the very conception of it in our imagination is barely granted, let alone the sight. And just as with other things, so also is the grape harvest sterile, so that a bold man might say that the tears of the vinedressers and the drops of must are equal in quantity. Yet this calamity brings some good with it, since it removes from men the incentive to drunken inebriation. It would be better, however, if wine were abundant for the gladdening of the souls of the sober. C
19. Why should I even speak of the winds, which differ little or nothing at all from typhoons? These winds are destructive, evil spirits themselves, useful to men for nothing; nay, if they were to strike into the earth with such impetus vertically, they would without a doubt carry off men and other living creatures and bodies. But as it is, rushing straight forward, even so they bring destruction to whatever they encounter.
20. Another evil, too, is the hailstorms, which are extremely hostile to all earthly produce. For that they fall with impetus upon the vines and affect them badly, and strike down and crush the fruits of trees, and finally destroy the crops by their impact—one could hardly call such a thing any sort of good; but they are even hurled like slingshots against strong animals, and these, once struck, fall; they cast down even men in some places, falling upon them.
21. Whence then do all these things come to us, if not from our own sins? For God surely has never repented of the things He has brought upon us, nor does He forget to confer benefits upon us. To suppose, however, that the connection of the elements has changed, and that nature, as if aged, now lacks its vigor, would be ridiculous. The demonstration of what we have said is near at hand, so that we do not need to linger on remote matters, nor to expend great effort in seeking arguments from elsewhere. We sowed last year, some of us, here and there, a field that we might make a test of the soil. And one field indeed returned the accustomed yield and something more; another doubled the crops; a third gave more, and not simply so, but gave an extraordinary amount. To me, therefore, a small piece of land gave back, for three measures, fifty-nine. And
A that land, worn out by frequent plowing and sowing, is yet not tireless. Our earth, therefore, has not been rendered barren by age or in any other way invalidated, but because it has the power to bring forth both good and numerous fruits, it is made sterile by the evil within us. We do not produce fruit, but thorns. We do not furrow our soul with the plow of conscience, neither deeply nor even on the surface. How then, even if we do sow something, will it rot, just as nature B causes seeds to pass into decay, and then flourish and bring forth the fit fruit by which man can be nourished? We hide our own good things, and the earth also hides its own. We play where it is not fitting, and we suffer evils—not indeed as we deserve, but in some measure. We do not wait where we ought to wait. And so, food is not given to us at an opportune time. "God opened his hand" to fill every living thing with blessing. But now let us pray that, with God turning his face away, we may never be condemned to suffer those things which we have not sought from him. God seems to withhold his mercy in his wrath; and what sort of wrath is this!
22. I omit investigating and searching into each person’s affairs with undue curiosity. If, however, anyone wishing to justify himself should say that he knows nothing by which God is provoked to anger, let him come forward. But if it should indeed happen that I, perhaps, neither know this man nor understand if he has sinned in any way, let him fear lest someone, knowing him and his conduct, should spring forth and convict him—not only, though he himself may think it, as one who is not righteous, but as one who is C even worthy of punishment. As for me, I seem to myself to be sinning even now, because many will mock my teaching, since I, abounding in no good thing, nevertheless teach others.
23. And would that this were not so! For disciples ought not to scrutinize the life of a good teacher, but rather to ponder his teaching in their mind and act according to it, if indeed he teaches rightly and well. Now, however, if you wish, I can point out with my finger this person and that who mock me, although, as the saying goes, they refrain their tongues, while they sneer and mouth between their teeth: "What is this grand high priest babbling about?" Laugh then, O miserable ones, laugh and indulge yourselves in mockery, and stop your ears, and proceed along your accustomed path D which will finally lead you with headlong speed into disaster.
24. I will remind you again of the duplicity in us, by which, when we meet one another, we use beautiful words and offer greetings, but, having gone a little way, we defile each other with the filth of slander. What is easier, O man, than to be freed from this vice? You hate someone and wish him ill. Do not therefore greet him, nor bid him hail, but when you meet him, keep yourself aloof. But while you greet him in such a vain manner and bow your head
A in such idle fashion, offering words of joy to one whom you hate, you lie in a manner that is not fitting. For what is the necessity?
25. Furthermore, I would remind you of the slanders in which we delight more than in the sweetest honey. What profit arises for us from these? You have grounds to accuse your neighbor. Stand against him, speak, plead your case. And either convict him and hand him over to the law to suffer the prescribed penalties, or, if you have been proven wrong, keep silent. For by slandering you accomplish nothing, and you earn only the reputation of being a babbler, appearing to bark like a dog. Indeed, dogs also chatter uselessly into the air when they have no one to bite.
26. I also bring to mind the terrible deeds attempted against the Church of God. A few days ago, a certain money-changer of our city—whom I shall mention briefly (for I will not recount his impious deeds committed long ago)—when his wretched slave had taken refuge in the Great Church of God among us, rushed in like a Latin siege-engineer, of the kind we ourselves have, alas, experienced. He dragged that miserable little human being out, B not from the courtyards of the church, not from the vestibule or the eaves of the temple, but from the very middle of the church, and carried him off home, a wolf carrying off a lamb. And not considering that he had snatched him from the hands of God, he tore the hair from his head—not simply, but as if he intended to deprive him of his very sanity—and then handled his whole body most cruelly and afflicted him with countless stripes. And whom did this great hero strike? Why, the one who, because of his tender age, could scarcely walk with a steady foot. C After he had treated the little slave in this way and had, so to speak, consumed his very soul, he descended to his feet, which he tended no less (would that someone else were to tend him in the same way!) by adorning them with iron chains. Then the cruel fellow-servant even suspended the wretched slave, so that he could not even touch the ground, and thus committed things that are unlawful. Finally, he wrapped him in sackcloth, in which, in my opinion, not even the Ninevites—but rather those who sin more grievously—should have been wrapped. And thus, O pitiable child, he sinned against you, because you dared to run to God. But who, O executioner of a boy, could worthily punish you, who so impudently—if it is permitted to confess the truth—have offered violence to God Himself? For when your rabid anger so drove you, you did not spare even God, whose hand you saw grasping the boy. You sinned, O slave, in that you did not run to the ancestral tomb of your master. D For then, in truth, the impious man would have spared you. What man would you not assault in the manner of a robber, O most impudent one, you who thus attack divine things? Whom among mortals will you revere, O most foolish one, who have no regard for God? The columns of the holy emperors offer security if anyone takes refuge at them. But you, O shameless one, have not blushed to seize by force a suppliant of God! As for what you have vomited forth against the pitiable priests of God, even if a wicked man might burst asunder while hearing such things, let them speak...
A who have heard from the plunderer, regarding these things at which some, being reverent, will weep, while others, being scorners of divine things, will laugh; and I fear that some of the ecclesiastics, whom the temple of God received from the market and consecrated, are, I suspect, loath to exercise their priesthood, yet desire to trade as before. And yet, that most divine tax-collector, upon being called to discipleship and received by our Savior Christ, did not return again to his former ways. Therefore, those of our number who have become holy ought not to return to the former impurities to which they were accustomed. O most holy Church of God, were you then destined to be insulted by such a man! I wish that this might be the end, and not rather the beginning, which I fear most of all. Regarding these matters, there are some who are so soft in soul and so generously inclined to bear such injuries that, even when approached, they try to appease B them and soothe them with sweet-sounding words, and this in a matter which in its atrocity surpasses the story of the Sphinx and of Scylla—both of whom snatched men, not like the Harpies of legend, but to deliver them to a miserable death. Why are you babbling, O wretched ones? I would greatly desire that an Oedipus or an Ulysses might now be found who could destroy such an evil. For that Sicilian Scylla used to snatch those sailing by into the deep and deprive them of life; and that Sphinx from Thebes used to bring men from the crossroads and feast upon them upon the walls. But this Macedonian beast, not from profane places, but from the very midst of the divine temple, snatched the man who had fled thither and treated him most cruelly. Behold, I have laid before you, O brothers, this recent injury, a new insult C against God, a manifest crime, an impious indifference, which you cannot deny, nor can you oppose to it the phrase, “Whence is this evident?” or the saying, “The man is being slandered,” or the words, “Let it be proven.” If some have measured a period of time longer than what has passed until now, I cannot claim that you would not deny the present ecclesiastical disgrace. But now there is no room to gainsay, nor to offer a denial. O, what kind of man has risen up against an ecclesiastical prerogative! What shall we do if something greater comes from somewhere? Such a person enjoys your patronage, O humanitarian mediators, although you are enemies of violence; therefore, let him be justified! As for the rest, I cannot but promise that I shall shed tears very often over this matter. It is not enough for us, miserable as we are, that we inflict countless evils upon one another, but now we even do violence to God, so that, struck with terror, He might—even against His will—grant us the prosperous D beginnings of the year, even though we have become mighty against God Himself, so that, I suspect, He might, through fear, bless for us the crown of the year!
27. But do you, O Lord, O Lord, raise us up—us, who are not merely stumbling, not merely wavering, not merely falling, nor who have only just fallen, but who have long been lying prostrate, and who not only prolong our fall but even deepen it. Bless us, so that, having thus become partakers of your blessing and therefore pleasing to you, through your kindness the cycle of the year might also be blessed. Otherwise
A for me, as I see it, it is not possible for this to happen. To us, indeed, it is impossible because of our perversity. But to you alone it is possible, as you are omnipotent and a friend of mankind. Extend tolerance to us, even though we are unworthy of that tolerance. Lead the impetuous. Bring back those who wander. Rectify the perverse. Advance and teach those who have turned themselves toward a childish and reprobate mind. Strengthen the dissolute, confirm the weak, illuminate the foolish, and grant prudence to those whose minds are captured. Instruct us, so that we do not wait for a demonstration regarding the things in which we are being trained. For often we ask among ourselves: "Whence is it demonstrated that we are sinning?" O the ignorance! We are not being judged, brethren, we are not being refuted, we are not being inquisitively examined; we are merely being admonished for our instruction. But an admonition is not always B necessarily designed to heal a crime that has already occurred; sometimes it ought also to prevent one, just as certain medicines do. If, therefore, upon my admonishing you, you become exasperated, O brother, and do not lend me a tranquil ear, but demand demonstrations, you awaken suspicion that you have sinned beforehand. Why then do you betray yourself? Why do you provoke an accusation against yourself? You have heard an admonition; venerate [God] and be silent, so that you may appear to be free from sin.
28. These things, then, O Savior, thus accomplish in us, and put a stop to this insult C just now leveled against the Church, and that impudent assault upon her—that reckless, irrational, uneducated, lawless, and most scourging-worthy act of sacrilege. Or is this not a matter of such sacrilege that even the ill-omened Afratas ought to recognize it? For in other cases, sacrilege is accustomed to be committed secretly and in the dark. But here there is nothing hidden or concealed; rather, in full light and in the sight of men, he who was offering prayers to God was violently dragged away—sacrilegiously snatched (from the temple, of course) and led off as if by a wild beast gnashing its teeth and foaming like a boar. Before our eyes are still fixed the evils brought upon us during the D sacking of the city, the authors of which were primarily the Africans arriving from Sicily. Indeed, this wretched Afratas seems to me to be one of those Africans who laid hands even upon the holy churches. Would that we might never see those others in the future, O our Savior, God, and Redeemer and Liberator! But this man, may we see him both become better himself, and making others better. You know how to form [us] in mercy and in rebuke; you know how to convert in various ways. So, if he is finally brought to cherish divine things, we shall depart, even though we are oppressed by calamities and by foolish men like him, if any such are still to be found. For I pray that no other person like him may emerge; and all your servants who worship you pray with me for this, whose prayers may you hear—blessed unto the ages of ages. Amen.
[LATIN COLUMN]
1083 INDEX TO ZONARAS’ ANNALS. [...] repentance of three things, 622. Scholarly learning of Constantius, b 33. Morals of Constantius Chlorus, 643. His death, 591, 595. Constantius is urged by a dream to punish Magnentius, b 16. Constantius comes is named emperor, b 40. Constantius Chlorus on the same day both conquered and victor, 641. Son-in-law of Maximian Herculius, ibid. Constantina, daughter of Tiberius, marries Maurice, b 74. Edict of Constantine the Great for the Christians, b 2. Sayings of Constantine II, b 11. Praises of Constantine, ibid. Death of Constantine Junior, b 12. Death of Constantine, son of Heraclius, b 87. Torture of Patriarch Constantine, b 111. Piety of Constantine towards bishops, 10. Second marriage of Constantine, son of Leo, b 118. Tutors of Constantine, son of Leo the Philosopher, b 183. Praises of Constantine, son of Leo, b 194. The fleet of Constantine, son of Leo, is defeated by the Hagarenes, 195. Plots of Constantine, son of Leo, against Patriarch Polyeuctus, b 196. Constantine, son of Leo, recovers his voice by a miracle, b 135. Constantine, son of Leo, sends dung to the Bulgarians instead of gold, b 119. Constantine, son of Leo, is designated emperor, b 181. Constantine, son of Leo, avenges two conspiracies, b 194. Constantine, son of Leo, shows gratitude to both friends and enemies, ibid. Morals, marriage, and children of Constantine, brother of Basil, b 228. Death of Constantine, b 11. Division of the kingdoms of the sons of Constantine III, ibid. Divine Constantine understands that he is being aided by omens, b 3. Constantine prefers to be ill than to be cured by crime, b 4. Constantine left Christianity free, ibid. Constantine does not deny an audience to the Jews, b 5. Constantine conquers the Sarmatians and Goths, b 6. Constantine Pogonatus cuts off the noses of his brothers, b 90. Constantine Pogonatus, ibid. Constantine rules after driving out his mother Irene, b 117. Constantine Charon is killed by Bardas Phocas, b 211. Constantine M. kills Leo, 376. Takes a Sarmatian alive, ibid. Constantine M., why he spoke of his brothers, ibid. Constantine M. attacked by the plots of Galerius Maximinus, 645. Constantine Chlorus, emperor of the West and Africa, 643. Constantine summoned by the Romans against Maxentius, b 2. Constantine alone possesses the state, b 18. Constantine Copronymus is saluted as emperor by his father, b 106. Constantine Artaseras, b 118. Constantine the Eunuch, 181. Constantine the leader, assuming the throne, loses his head, 183. Constantine the chamberlain is captured, b 188. Constantine, leader and son of Andronicus, b 151. Constantine Diogenes routs the Patzinaks, b 229. Constantine Diogenes is thrown into chains, b 230. Constantine Diogenes casts himself down, 232. Constantine Dalassenus neglects imperial marriage offers, 230. Constantine, Domestic of the Eastern legions, bh 237. Constantine, governor of Antioch, ibid. Constantine Monomachus marries Zoe, b 247. Constantine Ducas marries Helena, b 289. Constantine Ducas, son of Alana, is deprived of the royal insignia, b 297. Constantine Ducas dies before the marriage, b 299. Constantine, brother of Basil, loses the East, b 231. Constantine Ducas is thrown into prison, b 236. Custom and the persuasion of religion overcome even the fear of death, 122. A reminder of ancient custom has some power in persuasion, 108. Consulate instituted by L. Junius Brutus, 333. Perpetual consulate of Augustus, 536. Dignity of the consulate diminished by the power of the people, 631. One of the consuls created by the people, 344. Treachery of Contostephanus, b 220. Stubbornness against a more powerful person is dangerous, 178. Minds are irritated by insults, 68. Banquets are most pleasing to men, 165. Banquets continued over many days, 178. 9000 guests at the wedding, all presented with golden goblets, 195. Not to be invited to a banquet is a cause of offense, 80. Prosperity should be managed for fear of scarcity, 29. Coponius, 266. Bulgarian triumph of Copronymus, b 110. Copronymus’s crusade against the monks, b 111. Fleet of Copronymus against the Bulgarians, b 110. Praises of Copronymus, b 106. An oath, b 111. Death, b 113. Three wives and children, 1084. Cruelty towards monks and nobles, b 411. Copronymus, b 102. Copronymus asks whether Mary should be called Christ-bearer, b 110. Copronymus recovers the kingdom, b 107. Copronymus burns the relics of the martyrs, destroys monasteries, b 113. Destruction of the city of Coptos, 640. Heart of a modest person is a mark, 126. Corana sedition, 41. Coras is burned with 250 living men, 42. Corcyra handed over to the Romans, 390. Macerated hides, food, 606. Destruction of Corinth, 470. Corinthians sold under the crown, Coriolanus attacks Rome with the Volscians, 343. Capture of Corioli, ibid. Dry hide trodden upon in the middle, 194. Cornelia Orestina seized by Gaius, 554. Meeting of wife Cornelia with Pompey, 487. Cornelius (Cn.) consul captured by the Boii, 387. Cornelius (Cn.) treats matters in Sicily, 393. Cornelius (P.) subdues Sardinia, 401. Cornelius (L.) Lentulus advises the second Punic war, 408. Cornelius Dolabella defends Sicily, 426. Cornelius Lentulus, praetor, oppresses Carthaginian hostages and slaves, 446. Cornelius Cethegus, consul against the Gauls, 446. Cornelius Cinna plotted against Caesar, 494. Cornelius Sabinus, plotter against Caligula, 560. Cornelius Faustus Sulla, brother of Messalina, 568. Cornelius, bishop of Antioch, 598. Cornelius, bishop of Rome, 626. Cornificius, 517. Horn is a sign of a family, 130. Horn signifies sometimes a king, sometimes a kingdom, 131. The eleventh horn will not last long, 129. Horn in the middle of the eyes, 131. Ten horns, 121. Two horns are the Persian and Median kingdom, 131. Maurician crown fatal to Leo Copronymus, because of the omen of crows, b 57. Precious crown of Maurice, b 78, placed upon Cyrus by the royal virgin, 168. Inverted crown brought to the sacrificer, 506. Honor of wearing crowns, 196. Military crowns, 353. Appearance of the body more august, no common commendation, 315. Body of the beast to be burned, 129. Corsica, 387 and 402. Corsura island, 393. Crows nourish Elijah, 90. Crows as guides on the road, 188. Crows fall dead before Alexander, 195. Two crows as signifiers of Antony and Lepidus, torn apart by the eagle of Augustus, 500. Crow does not return to the ark, 19. Crow, gaping, is mocked, 181. Corvinus as a surname, 369. Corvinum, city of the Aequi, 345. Chorus holds Attic medimni, 241. Whetstone split by a razor, 327. Cosmas, patriarch, b 290. Cosmas departs from the patriarchate, 629. Cosmidium, a place, b 189. Three ribs or three wings signify parts of the world, 126. Cothon, a type of cup, 148. Siege of Cothon, a part of Carthage, 468. Cottian Alps, b 11. Cottian Alps, 643. Quail in the camps of the Hebrews, 36. Cotys the Thracian, 459. Crabati, b 227. Crabati or Serbs attempt Bulgaria in vain, b 288. Cranite mountains, 177. Crassus plunders the Jerusalem temple, 226. Death of Crassus the sacrilegious, ibid. Death of Crassus, 482. Crassus, eager for the aristocrats, 475. Crassus and Pompey reconciled by Caesar, 481. M. Crassus subdues the Getae and Mysians, Craterus, lover of kings, 191. Craterus fights poorly with the Hagarenes, b 140. Cause of creation, 25. We easily believe what we suspect, 171. Severity of creditors is dangerous, 338 and 340. Crete occupied by the Hagarenes, b 139. Defection of Crete and Cyprus suppressed, b 298. Cretans abandon Perseus, Crinitas, or cirnitae (comets), b 148. Pride of Crispus against Heraclius, b 83. Crispus, son of Constantine, is killed innocently by his father through the fraud of his stepmother Fausta, b 6. Crispus, prefect of Cappadocia, b 82. Crispus pays the penalty for his pride, b 84. Crispina, wife of Commodus, 597. Killed by the same, 598.
A altogether unaware, he drank from the same fountain from which David drank, and once he himself had partaken, he gave to those mortals to drink who thirst for the things of God. That which I have meditated upon and devised with all my strength since my last oration is as follows. The month of February, now drawing to a close, has completed its eighth and ninth day; and the evening which brought forth the present day celebrated him whom I shall call either the interpolated and intercalary martyr of Christ, or the victor who by force took possession of the kingdom of heaven, Nicephorus; or rather, that man to whom, while he was idle and as it were passing by, the treasure of salvation fell in his way. He also stood forth as a refuter of the memory of injuries, an active teacher of repentance, and a most brilliant herald of the love of God. For when he had found the wretched Sapricius rushing toward a victory, as they say, to shout in triumph over the common enemy, the devil, and had seen the crown of victory fluttering over that man’s head (a story known to you who have read the sacred histories), he himself, at that very moment, obtained from God the prize set before the eyes of Sapricius, having anticipated him, as happens in the contests of athletes, and having left him to fall into the snares of the devil. It was marvelous to see then how great a machine the evil spirit had devised against this Sapricius. For although he had professed himself a friend to God and, by his resolve, had set his soul apart from the tyrant in accordance with the evangelical sayings, the devil snatched him away in a moment of time, having dragged him off with the cord of B "resentment," not having foreseen that for the one who had cast himself away, there was another martyr of God to take his place; but he concerned himself with ensuring that two good men should not be won over to the Universal King—the one who had martyred himself for Him, and the other who became the heir of his prayers.
3. C And it is possible for the learned here to ask why the Lord withdrew from Sapricius, since Sapricius had held himself to be close to and bound to God, and God never acts in that way. For He does not desert those, to use the words of David, who seek Him; He stands near even to those who call upon Him; and, what is more and even more marvelous, He is found and meets in encounter even those who do not seek Him. He who might undertake to resolve such a question would have to do so in this way (it seems to me), brethren: that the burdensome Sapricius showed a feigned purpose for martyrdom, superficial and not from the inmost depths of his whole heart, but rather hesitantly; wherefore he did not approach so holy a matter with the frame of mind that was fitting. For he did not look strictly to the love of God, but, gazing upon vain glory, he ran to the contest of martyrdom; he waited until the renowned but empty fame of praise should ring out around him, D as a martyr who possessed no kindness, no confidence in himself. Captured by such a prize (for it was not him whom truth alone had enticed), he rushed to martyrdom and the laying down of his life. I will add one more thing: just as a man who supports another with his testimony so that he may profit himself cannot rightfully demand thanks from him, since he already holds the price of his benefit—whether he has filled his hand with forbidden money, or something else.
A What profit has he furnished for himself? In such a way Sapricius, and anyone else who followed after having proceeded to martyrdom for a fleeting cause of glory, and who, in order by some ostentation to profess himself a martyr of God, sought a famous glory for himself, was destitute of divine aid and was placed in the number of hypocrites, whom God, the truth of all, holds in utter abomination.
B 4. It should be supposed, therefore, that Sapricius became odious to God, because he did not offer himself to Him for a pure sacrifice, but entertained a certain more theatrical phantom. For God would not have permitted, at that time of salvation, that a thought of a haughty man, who was approaching with a wicked deliberation he had assumed, should rise up in his heart. No, He would have closed them off from him, so that he could not even knock at the doors, let alone have every wicked thought. And in such a way, not only would the athlete not have yielded the martyr’s crown to the hated Nicephorus, but he would have received him as a fellow-martyr, and having been fashioned for the reception of eternal life, he would have done a good thing. For it is probable, since he was already and nearly by necessity about to be seized by the then-ministers of the tyrant, that the truly philanthropic and brotherly and God-turning—and therefore brotherly-loving holy Nicephorus—was being led off to the tyrant’s headquarters; at which time, as he was being slaughtered, if Sapricius had also been prepared in such good fashion to gain a god-worthy prize, God would have accepted two most precious talents donated instead of one, and he himself having entered into the heavenly kingdom, would have most eagerly brought Nicephorus in along with him.
C 5. The question established above might be solved in this way. Yet it occurs to me now to consider how great an evil "rancor" is, and what it is by nature, and how it is properly defined. And it pleases me to say that "rancor" is not just the persistence of evil for the sake of any random revenge—which all anger wishes to have, wishing to retaliate against the one who has caused pain, as the ancients say, the wise—but "rancor" is shown to be a permanent anger, or a demonic desire for revenge, which is not merely for retaliatory pain, as they say, but, as it appears, even for an inexorable death, after which the dead person will no longer feel pain. Having such a passion, then, Sapricius was entirely toward the beloved Nicephorus, and by himself having cast off brotherly love, he seemed always to desire to harm the God-beloved Nicephorus, and even to put him away from among men, as in saying: "When shall he die and his name perish?" But in his mind, he was meditating and praying and inviting his own heart, to see when he might find a dug pit into which he might cast the object of his hatred and cause him to vanish, and in other ways he was naturally bringing a deadly wrath upon him. And he would have done something of this kind long ago, if he had been able. But since he did not have the strength—as the peaceful Nicephorus, who was in God, was more powerful and was skillfully flying over his snares—he kept his gall hidden. D
INDEX IN ZONARAE ANNALES.
principatu, 572. Galbæ cædes, 291, 572, 578. Galbam imperaturum prædixit Tiberius, 549. Galea per portam Plutoniam elata, 601. Galeagra Syracusanorum, 425. Galgalia castra, 47. Galieni interitus et mores, 635. Galieni uxor ab uno milite defensa, 634. Galieni frater et filius Romæ occisi, Galienus Valeriani filius, 629. Galionus imperator Alemanos et Herulos vincit, 633. Galilea subacta ab Herode, 95. Galilææ speluncæ, ibid. Galilæi Herodianos submergunt, 233. Galilei a Cumano male tractati, 286. Galilæorum factio, 265. Galla secunda Theodosii uxor, 35. Gallerii Maximiani interitus, 646. Gallerius Maximinus imperator Orientis, 643. Persas vincit, 642. Gallia Caesari in quinquennium decreta, 481. Gallia Circumpadana, ibid. Galliæ ad Aureliano recuperata, juxta Alpes consederunt, 355. Galli Romam in vasuri coer- centur, 446. Romam oppugnant, 355. Galli secundum profligati a Romanis, 360. Galli stipendiarii ab Hamilcare occisi, 386. Galli a Romanis conducti, 398. Galli duo in foro defossi, 403. Galli subacti, 447. Galli supra Rhenum, milli interventu dirimitur, 358. Gallorum mancipia non empta, 402. Gallorum jusjurandum de Capitolio, 404. Gallorum in Italiam irruptio, 455. Gallus imperator Barbaris tributum promittit, Christianos persequitur, male perit, 628. Gallus se cum S. Pompeio conjungit, 517. Gallus, 529. Ad Augustum de- ficit, 517. Gallus aureis compedibus vinctus, 564. Gallina alba in Livia sinum demissa, 515. Γαμβρὸς ἐπ' ἀδελφή, 646. Gauges Phison, 17. Gangis latitudo et profunditas, 191. Garidas Joannes, 187. Garizinus mons, 483. Garizinium templum, asylum impiorum, 54. Jovi consecratur, 205. Gastria monasterium, 144. Gaulanitis occupata ab Israelitis, 43. Gausamela, 189. Gaza, 58. Gaza Persica Damasci direpta, 188. Gazæ portæ ablatæ a Samsone, 54. Gazophyllacii opes, 302. Gedeonis vocatio, prodigia, delectus, stratagema, som- nium, 51. Gedrosia recreat Alexandrum, 195. Gelboe mons, 70. Gelimer Hildericho occiso Vandalorum regnum in Africa occupat, 65. Gelimeri in captivitate risus, 66. Gelimeri petitio et deditio, ibid. Genesius et Valerius, Eudociæ imperatricis fratres, 11. Gellæ populi, 491. Generosa indoles imperium aspernatur, rationibus mo- vetur, 185. Generosi animi tyrannorum impiis edictis non cedunt, 205. Genius malus Bruti, 507. Gens rebellis alio transfertur, 110. Gentis internecio divinitus mandata, 62. Gentianorum quinta in Africa seditio, 641. Gentius Scodrensis victus a Romanis, 460. Geometria ab Abraamo tradita Ægyptiis, 22. Geon Nilus, 17. Georgius Maniaces Edessam capit, 232. Gerebus, 175. Germani interitus, 8. Germani oraculum de Ana- stasio, 108. Germani Romanis formidabiles, 481. Ger- mani Romanos cadunt, 541, 542. Germani victi a Maxi- mino, 621. Germani patriarchæ castratio, 410. Germanicia recepta a Copronymo, 108. Germanici obitus, 548. Germanicus Drusi filius ab Augusto adoptatus, 541. Germanicus Tiberio formidabilis recusat imperium, 546. Germanio Hierosolymitanus episcopus, 612. Germanorum 80000 cæsa a Casare, 481. Germanus Botaniatæ servus, 27. Germanus Tiberii gener, 393. Germanus patricius, socer Theodosii, Mauricii filius, 78. Gerson Mosis filius, 35. Gessius Florus Judaica seditionis auctor, 267. Gessius Florus Albini successor, 289, 291. Geta Severi filius, 217. Ejus cædes, 613. Getæ, 531. Getha rex, Davidis socer, Absalonis avus, 75. Getica olim, post Dacia, 631. Giezis minister et discipulus Elisæi, 99. Giezis una 1096 cum muneribus etiam Neemanis lepram accipit, 100. Γίνεται 'Αρχελάῳ ἀντὶ τοῦ γαμεῖται, 265. Gizerichus Vandalus ab Eudoxia accersitus, Romam di- ripit, 49. Gizerichus Basiliscum vincit, 51. Gizeri- chus, 65. Gladiatorii ludi a Nerva sublati, 584. Gladiatoriis ludis factus crudelior Claudius Cæsar, 562. Gladius largitor consulatus, 483. Gladius quaestor inexhaustus, 613. Glaphyra ad patrem Archelaum remittitur, 253. Glaphyra Alexandro, Jubæ et Archelao nupta, 244, 261, 265. Glaphyra Salomæ infesta, 245. Gleba intra sulcum conjectæ, 316. Gloriam antecedit dejectio, 180. Gloriatio intempestiva alienat animos, 78. Gobryas Assyrius ad Cyrum deficit, 153. Gobryas vel suo interitu libertatem redemptam cupit, 172. Goeleon, 187. Golias, 63. Goliæ cædes, 65. Goliæ gladio utitur David, 66. Gomares Galatæ, 21. Gondaris, 65. Gondigisclus Vandalorum rex, ibid. Gordiani obitus, et controversia de eo, ejusque filio, 622, 623. Gordiani III, victoria Persica et cædes, 624. Gordianus imperator creatur ab Africanis exercitibus, 621. Gordius Hierosolymitanus episcopus, 612. Gothi Belisario regnum deferunt, 69. Gotholia Jorami uxor, Achabi filia, 102. Gotholia Da- vidicum genus exstirpat, 104. Gotholiæ cædes, ibid. Gotholia Judææ præeses, 116. Gothoniel Judex Israelitarum, 49. Gracchus in Lucania perit, 23. Græcia sub Romanis felix, 471. Græci ab Jovan, 20. Græci ignis inventio, 90. Græci duo in foro defossi, 425. Græcis libertas a Flaminio data, 447. Grando, 35. Grando in hostes Israelitarum illata, 47. Grando et imber in Sisaram actus, 51. Granicum (ad) pugna, 166. Grati animi cura Persarum regibus, 180. Gratia et pe- cunia corruptelæ judicii, 97. Gratiam referre non posse, extrema calamitas, 191. Gratianus, 30. Gratianus per Andragathium occisus, 35. Gratianus Valentinianum collegam asciscit, 33. Gratiani pietas, ibid. Gratus Sabino fert opem, 262. Gregorii Magni poemata, 25. Gregorius Nazianzenus Constantinopolitana Ecclesia cedit, 37. Gregorius contra Macedonianos docet, 36. Gregorius qui et Tiberius, Sergii opera imperator salu- tatus occiditur, 102. Gregorius Leonem Iconomacum anathemate notat, 105. Gregorius papa cum Francis pacem facit, 121. Gregorius Thaumaturgus Origenis auditor, 623. Gryphes duo aurei, 158. Gundamundus, 65. Gutta sanguinea: in vexillo satellitum, 525. Gylas Hungarus Christianus, 195. Gymnesia insulæ, 436. Gymnosophistæ, 194. Gyres, 159. H Hæreditas in eadem tribu manet, 47. Hæreditates sunt expedita ditescendi ratio, 146. Hæretici non rebaptizandi, 629. Hagio Longobardiæ dux, 177. Hamilcar ad Lyparam classe victus, 390. Hamilcar Barchinus in Siciliam missus, 386. Hamilcar in Sicilia grassatur, 387. Hamilcar proditionem arte compescit, 396. Hamilcar Romanorum benignitate abutitur, 400. Hamil- caris interitus, 402. Hamilcaris Carthaginensis et Gallo- rum tumultus, 445. Hamilcaris (successor) novam Cartha- ginem condit, 402. Hammon Jupiter falsus Alexandri Magni pater, 183. Hammonii prophetæ barbarismus, 188. Hanaballianus, sive Hanniballianus, Constantini Magni frater, 644. Hannibal Gisconis filius, 386. Classe a Cn. Duillio victus, causam dicit, 389. Ejus interitus, 390. Hannibal Hamil- aris filius secundi belli Punici auctor, 406. Hannibal capti- vos Romanos duntaxat occidit, 412. Captivos omnes occi- dit, 444. Hannibal suis diffidit, 412. Uti victoria nescit, lal et Mago Italia excidunt, 439. Hannibal a Carthaginen- sibus accusatus, 443. Ab eisdem irrisus, 415. Hannibal in Africa a Scipione vincitur, 442. Masinissam vulnerat, 416. [index: entries preserved]having adorned himself with the fragrances so as to be pleasing to God, to be exalted to God, and that the other might be relegated to a place whence a persistent stench of rot exhaled; it was fitting that the one who had concealed his mind—inasmuch as it was wicked—should fall away, and that the other, who as a guardian of virtue had hidden nothing, should be preferred to him. If it is true, as we have learned, that the foolishness of the world is valued by the all-wise God, how would He not have taken up the one who was wise in Christ, preferring him to that man who was made foolish by the demon and who always chose for himself those who attached themselves to him and belonged to him as if to a sophist of wickedness? And how would God, the true light, not have preferred the day-shining Nicephorus to one who was in a demonic night and deep darkness? It was altogether necessary that he who was acting not under the influence of God, but was being worked upon by the demon, should fall away from God, because it was not possible for one and the same person to be consecrated both to God and to Satan, especially since he had deceitfully inclined the whole balance of his reasoning toward the demon; whence the most zealous Nicephorus snatched the good that was in the hands of the "collector of wrongs," and having in this way gained the advantage, he was sanctified. A B
8. It is possible also to say that, having sat as if in wait and having watched for the false martyr, he did not rob or plunder that man’s good trade, but rather, when it was openly cast aside by that foolish merchant, he greedily accepted that precious prize, that ready-made wealth by which it is possible to obtain the heavenly kingdom—a welcome windfall, a "gift of an enemy" to use the proverbial expression, a good gift and one most beneficial, not one that is hard to give, as if it were of no use, but a grace, a favorable grace, a saving defense, which the mindless false martyr was unable to discern. He did something similar to one who defends himself against an enemy, just as if one were to load a noble man who was suffering from hunger with edible goods, for the relief of his body, or were to enrich one otherwise in need by bestowing upon him wealth, by which we human beings are burdened, yet rejoice. And there was at that time occasion for the saint to give thanks to the enmity for having received such a gift from it, which had brought him to God through the envious Sapricius, and by which, as if by a ladder, he was raised up to the Lord. And he could have said that the detestable and accursed Sapricius had not acted for his own sake, but had brought the matter to one whom he had unjustly hated, Nicephorus; for he, having submitted himself for the wages of the work which Sapricius had already performed, was himself the laborer of the eleventh hour, who received the rest of the work as an intact reward—which could not have happened otherwise. For Sapricius, by mixing whatever good he had done with a fame ill-gotten, had taken up the remaining burden, and thus had gained a double reward, C D and he, after the successor had been brought, was to receive.
9. The sluggish vine-dresser, Sapricius, had planted a vineyard, as a farmer, and what was planted took root, and brought forth leaves, and produced fruit; and the sour grapes, having already passed beyond their raw state, were now ripe enough for the vintner. But when
the planter had fallen asleep, and the beasts of the forest coming forth had put to flight him who ought to have guarded the vineyard, then the ever-watchful Nicephorus ran before A him, as the planter did not wish, and trod the winepress as was meet, and pressed out the wine of salvation, and having drunk that beautiful draft of the Gospel, he rested in the kingdom of heaven. Another matter also may be represented by this parable. For this Sapricius, when he had put his hand to the plow and had exerted much labor in divine charity, as it appeared, and afterward had turned and looked back, was no longer a branch grafted into the kingdom of heaven. At the beginning, he confessed the Lord before men, since he was still being aided from heaven to show himself noble under torture; but later he denied the same Lord before men, having abjured the faithful charity of God. Wherefore the Lord denied him before his angels, and enrolled the aptly named Nicephorus into the angelic B order. And the bishopric, which he was about to attain—being sluggish in faith and hostile to charity—another received, through which bishop those things should be provided for us for which we would call upon him, as we ought to be merciful, we who instead of diabolic hatred repay divine charity, who "overcome evil deeds with good deeds," who bring the immoderate force of viperous wrath back to righteousness; since God quickly hears, and looks upon, and saves the man who is in harmony with these precepts, but as for the one who behaves otherwise, as soon as he is no longer more sharply provoked, he quickly strikes and destroys him, just as he also destroyed this Sapricius, unworthy of mercy and condemned to eternal hatred. Whence it came to pass C that he who had been the greatest hater was in the same manner held in hatred; he who, having neglected his duty, had separated his love from divine love and had dedicated it to a demon, his leader, and to the lord of this demon, Satan—he basely turned his back, basely withdrew, and accounted God as nothing. 10. Wherefore, brothers, as was meet, I felt great wonder at these two men, of whom the one seemed to me to die for the Christian faith, and the other to fall away from charity; the former, a participant in the struggle, to be despised, the latter, having scarcely entered upon the way, to be received by God; the latter, indeed, crowned with a wreath to ascend to the heights, but the former to be cast down beneath the underworld, and, because he had loved life more than death, to meet a miserable D death, and that by most just right, since he was devoid of love. But whoever is such a man is nothing, as the most holy Scripture declares, even if from other sources he appears to be great in virtues. And just as food not seasoned with salt becomes inedible, so also does God account a life with which charity is not mingled as being of as little worth as hatred. Therefore, the persistent hatred, which lies so deep, inwardly destroys the soul with cold embraces, while outwardly it stands as a pernicious bulwark, under which diabolic snares are set, and—as it lies in wait—it is then most especially mindful of murder, because the one who is hated has come seeking
forgiveness and compassion and pardon?
A 11. It must be guarded against, then, and the hater must be left alone in this manner, and one must remain in a restraint of the hands and a bending of the knee, and one must keep quiet, and one must place hope in God alone, the author of charity, and thus draw the friend from above, and in other ways, moreover, labor to bring the same to a more perfect clarity. For who, approaching a man plunged into hatred and one who has expanded his enmity, and who then ostensibly seems to repent, would believe that he has indeed returned to his senses, and that he will not lie in wait to strike for the better? For it is not possible for us to know this with certainty from the outset, unless God himself, by a revelation, provides the assurance, where the one who has hated is seen not only to have excluded himself from paradise, but also to desire willingly to withdraw from God himself, provided only that he might possess the power to injure the one he hates. How, therefore, would one believe a person so filled with hatred to be approaching as a friend, and not rather as one planning treachery?
B 12. I imitate, O friends, some person—let us suppose it is Sapricius. I wish plainly to be reconciled; I run to him, I, Nicephorus, as in a hypothesis; I embrace his knees, so that he might inscribe me among his faithful friends. But he perhaps will not be so pleased; rather, if he finds a stone or a piece of wood anywhere, he snatches it up against me. Nay, he will add swords, if there happen to be those who have died in this manner. How, therefore, shall I not be cautious? How shall I not fear? Whence will come my boldness to join with Sapricius in conversation, unless it be that I have not been urged by God alone, moving me, as He himself knows how to ordain such things? Therefore, if anyone has received a sound mind from God, would he hesitate to run forward and grasp the suppliant, and to appease the enemy who has appeared, not by mere coincidence, but by internal meditation, and one that is active and indeed deadly, unless God had dulled the edge of the one who was about to capture him?
C 13. If, therefore, anyone should happen upon such an enemy, and if he should encounter him, he ought to retreat—to reverse, so to speak—and to hesitate in his caution, lest, thinking he has found a harbor, he be driven onto a reef to his own destruction; and such a person, I believe, would not be blameworthy, nor faint-hearted in the face of danger, if he were to see that most bitter of enemies approaching him, and, seeing him speaking without deliberation, pass him by while holding himself back. For from whence would he be able to take confidence so as not to despair, to come for a peace treaty—not indeed in a hurry—in order to avoid a great evil? And the matter can be estimated in this way: a lion is terrible when he encounters one. But just as no audacity would be required if one were to meet it while it was confined in a prison and bound in chains, thus, if it were loosed and rushing toward one, anyone would flee as quickly as possible, provided his feet were not frozen by terror. D By the same token, an enmity with deep roots is to be avoided, and the leonine enemy in accordance with it. Let him have, therefore,
A a care to do as one would who, with a bare foot, should step into a fire; for in such a way must one approach such an enemy for the sake of establishing a peaceful friendship, and flee as one would from a fire that burns what is near it, should he move toward one. For it is the same—insofar as it brings confusion to the soul—to rush blindly into a matter which, after experience, we dread, and to look upon that thing which is rushing forward upon us.
14. It is necessary, therefore, as it seems from what we have just said, to pray that no one should be the first to occupy you with stubborn hatred. But if someone should fall into such an evil, let him at that moment be humbled and silently yield, falling down before the common Abyss, God, and, bending his knees, stretch out his hands to Him; finally, take care B that the one who did the injury first should not, when the occasion arises, vent his anger if he meets you. Wherefore, it must be gathered from those things which we have considered before, that the removal of the stumbling-blocks of enmity and the establishing of peace is the highest and supreme good for all men, and especially for Christians, from whom God accepts neither gifts nor any other offering unless they practice charity; and this applies as well to all those things in life.
15. But if someone, after he has persisted in hatred and has provoked and terrified and harmed, and has shown absolutely no sign of friendship, then announces that he has indeed transformed into a faithful friend who promotes peace and pretends to be a man of peace, one must be cautious not to enter into friendly society with such a man until he has given proof of his loyalty in himself, C placing in the middle a suitable pledge by which one may be joined to the other, so that two separated men may enter into the union of the Holy Spirit. Otherwise, it is rightly to be feared that in an untimely meeting, the one approaching may, by a crafty method, harm the man whose friendship he purports to seek, and the injury will be to no healthy end for the one suffering.
16. Moreover, one must be terrified of the man who returns not in simplicity, but is more bitter than is reasonable. For by what guarantee will the man who, with God as his author, zealously seeks again the friendship he had once discarded, be assured that he will encounter an enemy who is suddenly placable, who will embrace and kiss the returning friend—not kill and devour him, having miserably slaughtered him? It happened in the example lauded above that he who had sought a return to friendship was saved by martyrdom, D while he who had turned away the returning one perished through Satan. And the matter is always the same, nor ought we to trust that if we have fallen thus, we shall be saved. For that is a very rare event, nor is such a thing found elsewhere. I omit to say that it happens naturally and commonly that both, having fallen together, perish together, and from this the demon experiences greater joy.
17. Therefore, one must be cautious in such things, and pay attention most of all. For many "devise evils," according to the one who said so, to whom it is not very fitting to apply the words, "they shall not sleep unless..."
A they have done evil," but rather, as it is said, "they shall not live unless they have killed"—which is what Sapricius desired above all—or even more sharply: "It is not for them to breathe unless they have drained blood,"—I do not mean the blood of men, but the stinging fly, the dog-fly, until they themselves are led away to Beelzebub, whose name signifies, by the interpretation of the teachers of sacred things, "the one who sucks up the fly."
18. Behold then, following from such a fact, another B tree has occurred to us, a strange one, of which we did not record the memory beforehand; what fruits it bore, we do not know by accurate knowledge, having received them through hearsay. But this we know most accurately, that at the time when it was about (and this was Sapricius) to be a generous server of the table of God through the bearing of fruit, it was cut down, so as to be burned with fire. For since, when compared with the palm of God, it did not possess—if I may speak as if of corporeal nature—a marrow equally sweet to the taste, it was cast into the eternal fire.
19. But if it is necessary (and it would not be out of place) to examine this theory of trees, it is possible for us to reflect here not inappropriately on a second, immediately C amazing tree, the holy Nicephorus, until such time as the heart of that prior tree was cut away, that tree of hate-for-the-brother, and thus (to use the words of David) "heavy-hearted," and loving vanity; it did not show itself so green or lofty that there was much talk about it. But afterwards, when the axe had penetrated the bark of this beautiful and rotting tree, Nicephorus in a moment of time was seen reaching the heights of heaven, putting forth flowers, and bearing fruits in which God delights. The departure of Sapricius, on account of which he was removed from God and from His paradise, was the cause why Nicephorus D exhibited himself as a plant precious to God, and thus from the ruin of one, the salvation of the other arose.
20. Behold, then, two trees have just appeared to us, worthy of wonder and amazement; the first, before anyone could, as they say, blink, a typhoon-like wind, to speak rashly, tore up, along with the fruits it bore, and the Harpies carried it off; or rather, to speak more congruously, the earth gaping open swallowed it up, torn away and rushing to destruction. The second, as if it had come forth from that dead one, appeared immediately, and fulfilled its due growth, and bore fruits pleasing to God. The one was seen by God, to whom divine love had led him; the other perished through the most evil enemy of the human race, that we might learn how great are the wonders of the Lord, and how foul are the works of that rebellious servant, who loves no human being, not even those whom he has enrolled as most faithful to himself, but wishes them all to become partakers of his punishment, far otherwise than God, who desires that all should be saved.
21. Therefore, concerning what we are just saying, one might refine the argument, saying that these two men, with those equal to them,
were caught up in the wheel of life, one being received—Nicephorus, who had been anointed—and the other left behind to lie in Tartarus; so that it might be said that, from this useless tree that had been hewn down, there sprouted up the great Nicephorus, a tree of life, taking the place of Sapricius—the tree that was worthy of being cut down. For he was not a tree planted by the running waters of God, as he was not one who lived a life worthy of the most holy baptism, by the grace of which he was meant to yield his fruit at the time when he both ought to have done so and was able.
22. B Therefore, one must gather from what has been said that it is a work of extreme prudence to resolve scandals according to the Gospel, while being cautious that one does not, by an untimely approach to those who are scandalized, bring harm either to oneself or to another to whom one has offered an approach for the sake of holy peace. For we certainly do not have reason to trust that, if we fall, we shall be saved. This is something that did not happen to the great martyr Nicephorus by chance, but was granted by the grace of God, who, having removed His most wicked priest—as he was judged unworthy of the kingdom of heaven—graciously accepted the holy layman as heir to such a great good. And he did not find this blessing neglected, as they say; for he had procured the work of salvation with skill and method. C For it did not escape him that if, not without the knowledge of Satan’s ministers, he were to return to grace with the martyr, he would be seized and led away to suffer terrible things for the sake of the faith in Christ. But having foreseen such things, he pondered with himself that one of two things would necessarily happen: either he would succeed in gaining the friendship of his enemy, and thus he would become an heir to the martyr’s prayer and be saved; or, failing in his hope, he would endure whatever else might happen in God. And indeed, for him thus prepared for an untroubled state, the great good from God came to pass, and he readily took up the crown of Sapricius, having surpassed the unworthy man.
23. D Therefore, Nicephorus carried off a double crown: one for charity, because he had forgotten his hatred; the other for his martyrdom. And both were placed upon his head at the time when the sword was applied to his throat; and having taken up the cross of Christ, he followed Him according to the Gospel. But this is what Sapricius—who did the good deed ill—refused to do, for though he had taken up the cross in his adherence to the right path, he did not follow behind the Savior Christ, the God of love, in a way that truly followed Him, because he did not even love his neighbor. And this, moreover, was not because of any burden or impossibility of result, but because of an ease than which nothing could be more simple. For that man, though filled with hatred and for that reason a servant of the prince of evil, needed only to say from the bottom of his heart: "God have mercy on you, brother," and immediately he would have stood before God as a crown-bearer, instead of contending at length under the pretext of love for God—whom it seems he had never seen in any way—and then, being led away to his perfection, hesitating to impart it
A to him who was entreating him, kneeling, and bowing down to do obeisance, but instead, yielding to the demon who was insidiously whispering that now was the time to hold his enemy at a distance, he incurred a curse. Because he had entered upon this path of malediction, he preferred this life to eternal life, suffered shipwreck at the harbor, and though already close to the gates of paradise, he strayed from the gates, as they say, by allowing his enemy, Nicephorus, to run in ahead and behold the glory of God there. Indeed, he fell away from the ladder reaching to heaven, because, as Nicephorus, through divine love, had been transformed into an eagle seeking the heights, so he, being given over to earthly things and in a manner becoming earthbound, was drawn down to the things beneath as if to his pasture, and cleaved so closely to them that he could not even look straight up at heaven. B Even the executioners could not but wonder how Sapricius, already given over to punishment, was repaying the pledges of friendship—not like a good man, but like a pestilential one, and after the example of demons, by desiring the death of Nicephorus, who loved Christ. They were distressed that this wicked man was repaying friendly words with curses and prayers with insults; and that, while he seemed to love the Lord God, he so excessively hated his fellow servant. But the King of heaven, who had Himself taken up the fire from that kindled wrath, withdrew from Sapricius, and, shaking His head, rejected him in the place of Nicephorus, by which nod he who had been devoted to death was saved, while he who had devoted [another] was transferred into eternal fire.
24. Therefore, brethren, keep in memory that you should fix in your minds that this C tree, so strange, was deservedly cut away to the roots by the axe of the divine garden and rightly cast out into the eternal fire, which is prepared for the demon and his angels. And when such a deed as this has been impressed upon the tablets of your minds, count as an acceptable man everyone who seeks prayer, concord, and communion without turmoil, and love—whence comes communion—and consensus in public affairs, and charity, and compliance, and modesty, and courtesy, and cheerfulness, and security; who will neither dissimulate nor lay snares; who will conduct the affairs of his life as much as he is able; who will provide aid if there is need, will be merciful, and will give of his own; who will enter into a peaceful society with his brothers, will extend an innocent right hand, and will be sincere by the very nod of his head. He who appears ingenuous in speech D and cultivated in his dealings, who will neither trip up one who is running alongside nor vex his companions, but, as becomes a Christian, will show himself affable in conversation and simple in his conduct; who will add nothing beyond "yes" and "no," and will utterly abhor any injured truth; who is dutiful in civil matters, harmless in public ones, and found to be free of fraud in the conduct of business; who for money lent will exact either no interest or at least a very moderate amount, so that the one who has borrowed may provide for himself an easy living from the remainder and not be unbecoming to the Son of God. In like manner also you, as trees of God, grow and abound with fruits, as many, so also pleasant, sweet, and delightful, through love, according to which, as beloved new plants to God, you are consecrated and rise upward to the glory of Him on high. And be you such by a word of perfection, as human
are the cause of why those newly planted by God become holy, and fly upward into His glory. But now depart, the sermon being finished, such as those men of God whom the holy Baptist is accustomed to place near God, so that they may enjoy His paradise.
25. But if any man, being short-sighted regarding the future, is fearful, lest he might have some Sapricius lurking as an enemy, and dreads lest, if he should encounter him, he might not be sent up to God, but rather slip down into Hades and perish, do not reproach such a man for his foolish and senseless cowardice; rather, pray with your whole heart that this new Sapricius may again be destroyed through the method of Nicephorus, which I have set forth in these present matters. For thus A if, from the Adamic blessing which has been granted—by which paradise is also inhabited, and divine trees are cultivated into fruit-bearing growth and become pleasing to God—all things shall be good, and the help of God shall be with us; He who incessantly works towards the repentance of each person to such an extent that He even saves us, against our wills, in many things for His own glory, being all-good and a lover of souls, and for this reason worthy of praise for ever. Amen.
BY THE SAME, ON THE HOLY GREAT LENT, ORATION II
B The same Metropolitan of Thessalonica, preparatory oration for the holy Great Lent.
1. I know well, brothers, that for the sake of spiritual commerce, and by the rule of the profit that comes from this toward God, you hasten even now to this divine workshop of virtue, to exchange—or rather, to transact—merchandise, such as a man who manages the things of God is accustomed to do, whose role it is to be a zealot, an imitator, and furthermore a disciple, but above all a teacher, the evangelical householder who, having sold all that he possessed, bought the precious pearl. And thus it is that you come to this divine temple, intending to receive from us, as if from the wealthy, things useful for your ready commerce, so that, having been enriched with such things as loans, you may diligently exercise your spiritual trade, and acquire in great abundance those things that are dear to God and to His servants. As for me, even if I do not abound in divine assets, yet being a lover of C gain in a becoming manner, and unwilling to let the sacred talent lie idle in the fields, but seeking rather to administer it usefully like a good money-lender, and to reap from it for myself a suitable return, D as one not fearing the accounting
A of those who are not cautious in their calculations, if I do not require interest or half-interest, but much more than these for my profit, I would not so easily be persuaded to hand over what you ask. Yet I shall endeavor that if not immediately, at least after a short time, I might receive it, and that a benefit be superadded for me to the principal sum lent, as if it were the principal of a loaned sum, burdening you with heavy necessities if you do not perform this. And this is for me the commandment which they take upon themselves who hold divine exhortations as nothing.
B 2. If, therefore, you willingly wish to receive what you seek, your journey has been well and successfully completed; but if you have come to the spiritual treasury in a turbulent state, you knock at the door in vain. And behold, I, the administrator of the spiritual treasury, say to you, as it is written: "I do not know you." But I perceive that you are ready, if what is sought is lent to you, to bring back the principal not long after, in fair weight, which is according to justice, and to bring no small superabundance of the interest from thence.
3. And not only that, but I shall open for you what is the treasury that is with me, and I bring forth coins that are neither counterfeit, C nor engraved with any other image than the royal one, but are well-tested; and you shall receive them, and by trading you will profit, not the so-called Sardian electrum, nor Indian gold, nor any other thing of terrestrial confusion, around which the men of this earth are agitated, but the kingdom of heaven itself. I bring to your mind, moreover, that the gold and silver set before you, and, in a word, the loan itself, is not mine, but that of the great God himself, who says that these things are of his own treasury: "Mine is the gold," he says, "and mine the silver," and whatever else is consequently joined to these. And bringing this to your mind, I exhort you not to defraud me of my good hope, nor to deceive one who lends such great things, lest you make me also liable to the greatest Master, as if I had squandered his things, and you yourselves remain not blameless and innocent. For that person is known to be very greedy of gain, and therefore he sows everywhere and among many, and does not wish even the smallest particle of what is lent to fall in vain, or even one iota of the agreements that pertain to the lender to be abrogated.
D 4. Since, therefore, you are pleased also in this matter, and strive to keep both yourselves and me without blame when the great logotheteion and the most terrible audit of the Master's loans takes place, and of our conduct and every other dispensation in life, behold, receive what you seek. They are themselves images of the royal character, not depicting certain mortal figures, such as most of the minerals of the earth represent, but the form of God himself, who is superior to all things: to which character itself, adhering, we learn the type, and become according to the image of the prototype. Sacred are these riches and possessions, or as without
I might say commonly, sacred business: these loans are divine gems, which, if we call them ecclesiastical coins, although it may be good for the sake of precise expression, still it is not entirely clear. But they are rather to be called legal prescripts, as that is more evident and more appropriate. They are saving characters, and certainly not like those damnable ones, of which it is pronounced that they turn men away from God and attach them to the demon. What is it that I do not say, which is above all things to be venerated? God fashioned these, God formed them; whose work also are those tablets written by the finger of God, concerning which it is to be observed that, if He judged those tablets worthy to be placed in the ark—to signify profoundly that the counsels of the later divine manifestation were then hidden—yet He set these forth in the manifest, because the sun of truth has finally shone forth from that ancient shadow.
5. Furthermore, whatever of this loan is from God Himself, speaking in the Law and in the Gospels, and whatever is from His servants, in many ways and by the gift of diverse spiritual wisdom, is to be placed as gold, which rings true, with which no dross is mixed. For those who dig the scriptural texts and find these metals, consecrate the golden participation to God, because it does not receive rust and therefore is not easily corrupted; but they relegated silver to a secondary, though still divine, material. Whatever, indeed, are works of art, or, if I may so say, coins of foreign—though correct—minting, neither shining with the golden or fiery brilliance, nor offering the whiteness of silver, which we attribute to God, the Father of lights, these things are to be accepted by you as other metals; nor are they useless or vain matters before God, just as the wise have perceived in divine things, who themselves, dealing with such metals and selling them to good merchants, have received much utility. B
6. Receive therefore with careful reflection, regarding the loan and the interest, the things set forth by the stewards of God's treasury, which we distribute; and first have the talent of charity, which, though often handed down to you, I know not whether you have received any fruit from it—whether because it was infused and hidden, and so falsely simulated gold; I speak of charity, not fabricated, but sincere, truthful, not curious, not adulterated, which is not in outward appearance or form, but internal, and rooted in the soul, so that no violence of storm can sweep it away from the divine garden that is in us C; not that charity that smiles outwardly but in the heart meditates how to lacerate a friend; the charity which God grants and loves, which is from the whole mind, heart, and soul; through which He produced all things in the world; through which He is united to us, teaching us so to be united to one another, as if we were parts and members of God, coapted into one coherence and fellowship. D
7. For you who have engaged in this, the whole company of the virtues will be present, as we have elsewhere clearly shown by our own demonstrations. It itself, no otherwise than as the principle,
A will produce in you the exercise of every good work. Whoever possesses it, possesses a truly most precious thing. No sooner has one spoken of charity, than all goodness is in harmony with it. When charity enters the soul, the entire remaining company of the virtues enters with it. If, however, it is excluded from there, it is manifest that that soul is deprived of every good.
8. Union with the Son is charity, since it also contains the execution of His commandments. "For if you love me," He says, "you will keep my commandments." B It procures familiarity with the Father, according to that saying: "He will be loved by my Father." It is a divine exultation and true joy, according to this: "If you loved me, you would rejoice." This mother of all virtue, just as no other occasion for us has lacked demonstrations, has truly shown itself easily, manifestly, and incontrovertibly. It is the first link of the golden chain of virtues, the gateway of the course toward virtue, the beginning of the ascent to heaven, the foundation of peace, the tranquility of the soul, the banisher of wars; and so much so, that if it reigned throughout the world, nowhere would there be discord, the mother of war; C nor could one raise a voice, and in place of an abundance of arms, we would be given an abundance of plows, nor would smiths be sparing in providing iron, while minutely forging it for slaughters. The mother-earth would have, so to say, gratitude for her children, because they would not often agitate and dissect her to find iron metals, by which her own ends are corrupted, D while only the right ends of charity [tend] toward life, and towards the works in conformity with which life is sustained. What, then, are these? The civil society of men, councils, laws, schools, every art and science, marriages, commerce, assemblies, and whatever else is useful, over which divine worship presides.
9. The gift of nature is charity, and in it, after God, it is observed, through which the newborn are surrounded by love and solicitude, not only in humans, but also in other animals, so that death would be chosen by the parents rather than the bereavement of their dearest offspring. A certain charity appears also in plants, and those who have observed this in palms, so to speak, have recognized both sexes. It seems that in the formation of man there is a humor of affection pertaining to the blood, by which, when it leaps forth, the face of those who are ashamed reddens into beauty. For in every way such affection adheres to charity, insofar as charity and delight are joined; and when, speaking universally, we say that like rejoices in like, here too, I think, we mean charity. For does not joy pertain to affection? And he who delivered this, "All things desire to be," spoke of a certain charity through desire.
10. Who, then, is so beastly as to cast away this common good from himself and wish to be alone, in order to show that he is neither civil nor social nor
A even human? For mildness is to be loved, and thus to love in return; whence it is manifest that he who does not love is not even mild. If this be so, how could he be a human being in the proper sense, and not merely in outward form—the form which, in the old wives’ tale, the nature of the jesting ape, desiring to attain, failed in its attempt? Lovers have something social about them; but he who is not such a one is well called "solitary"; nor would it be a bad joke to assert that the solitary person is rustic. For even snakes are tamed, and many such occur in biblical histories; and not a few are seen even today to be tamed. Who, then, could be so inhuman that he would wish to be worse than serpents themselves?
11. Love is to be desired even by those who act wickedly B in the things in which they commit crimes; for they do love, one being prone to lust, another, who has once wished to be a man of blood, to murder; another, who has associated with theft, to theft; and others to other base things, six hundred thousand such. But I speak here of a love that is not peculiar, not pleasing to God, not perfect, but perverse and contrary to virtue. For as there is a double charity, so there is a double love. One man loves according to the law which God gave—and this we teach along with God; another, however, loves as the adversary suggests, setting up a law opposed to God. So also he who simply corrupts this meaning loves in a way beyond what has been said. But this is not properly charity; for it would not be reprehensible. A transgressor of the law also loves the transgression of this kind; C but he would not properly be said to have charity: for malice, deformed, gestures before the beautiful, leading around its own depravity under a venerable name, and by this name contradicting God, who, according to the great David, indeed loves justice, but hates iniquity—he certainly does not love. Yet these things demonstrate that charity is a thing altogether lovable, inasmuch as the perverse, ashamed of their own name, hide themselves under the name of charity, and endeavor to draw it to themselves, although they cannot. Each one of them is like the image of a cat bearing an saffron-colored garment that does not fit it; or like the jesting ape, wishing to be illustrious, wrapping itself in a tunic variegated with flowers; whence, I suppose, they proverbially and falsely call him "beautiful."
12. Furthermore, we who are sound of mind love in a divine way D marriage, which God established in the beginning, and He himself joined most holily, and He himself blessed; for it remained according to that union of our first parents until death, and that beautiful duality was not joined unlawfully, from which even until now the kinship of brotherhood is preserved among us and held in honor. But others love otherwise, and not according to such a marriage—those who, not wisely, overstep the boundaries of others, indeed break through them, or otherwise dig a ruin for themselves. That former love is indeed blessed, and therefore holy, and its end is dear to God, the fruit of the womb is pleasant, the race is luminous, the progeny noble. But the second, which is not according to ma-
matrimony, although it be named matrimony, yet it diverges otherwise, portending illegitimate, and dark, and unchaste, and adulterous offspring, and whatever origins and names proceed not from lawful marriage. But that marriage is sacred, which is according to the laws, which is civil, which is pleasing to God. B
13. A long time now has passed (for for six years it troubles me, what is done outside the law, both as regards the beginning, and as regards those things which follow it through men, who, loving what is external in man, hate their own soul, deviating through a baneful inclination either into a gregarious and indistinct mixture, or into the Platonic jest, whose design was that all things should be common, or even following the ancient custom of the Scythians. For they say that among the Scythians nothing was private, except a cup and a sword — therefore there is not one day in which men and women do not run to me, lamenting their quarrels and the wars of matrimony, by the bond of which God has joined them. The man is separated from his wife, and either clings to a concubine, or whinnies into the lawful bed of others; and I, for the most part, listen and speak melancholically, and the separated spouse mocks and derides me, with his accomplices aiding him in the mockery. And the venerable [bishop] of Thessalonica, he to whom many salutations are due, is there almost spat upon and struck upon the cheek! And, I do not think, then (unless the Lord, the lawgiver of matrimony, threatens such things for mockery) that again from the other side a man appears, pursuing his wife with clamors, as if she were separated, and that not only apart, far from him, in a different place—one of deadly pasture, indeed, but which seems to him sweet, and concerning water, which seems to him of refreshment—but also produces her, where God has not permitted. And here also I become angry and importunate to no good end: whence, infirm and despairing of the correction of many, I use against such a disease remedies not only spiritual, but also more human, and in all things I seem barely tolerable. C
14. Therefore, brethren, why do we not rightly love either ourselves or God, the author of charity? This is the worst of evils. For grant that the Church is to be despised: why, however, does not each person love himself, which is seen even in the brute animals, which love themselves, as appears daily? For they flee persecutors, avoid wounds, and repel hurtful things. Yet all these are proper to those who love themselves, and are signs of the love of life. D
15. Come then, you too, husband of a wife, love what is yours, and do not, deserting your spouse and thus diminished by half, wander about wherever the desire of the soul drives you, lest you fall into unforeseen evils, which it is not given to escape. You too, woman, having turned away from your own husband and having inclined toward another, learn not to cut off your own lordly head, in order to set up another, which, for lack of blessing, can neither be joined nor associated. For not any...
man should think—and I say this under oath—that he shall escape the wrath of God,7 present or future, if he separates what God has joined, and thus renders useless that beautiful union through which, according to divine blessing, the seed ordained to multiply life is intended.
16. But that which none the less consumes me, and wears away my life, and not only sucks and draws out the flowing stream of vital blood, but almost tears me apart, are the forecourts, or as it were the outer sanctums, of marriages—the preliminaries of unions. For since there is a venerable rule established here, that matters preceding marriages should be looked into and kept in mind in a holy manner, so that nothing may hinder one from walking the straight path and so that crooked ways may be blocked, there are some who, being carried away by the torrent of their own peculiar desire, cast themselves into an abyss of inconsistency, ceasing both to care and to anticipate in vain; but as for them, they couple lovers like herd animals, to whom neither reason, nor law, nor human custom applies. B
17. And I recently saw my own fellow citizens dare an iniquity of this kind, which I had not until today seen, nor had I learned of it in any other way, whether in this place or elsewhere. For having taken hold of a certain man and woman who were arguing whether they should be blessed, they led them not far from the city, and having deceived a simple and ignorant priest, they stole the divine blessing, and joined together these animals without God, and without the accustomed yoke and canonical tie—for thus I like to call the written instruments by which people are joined in marriage. When these facts came to my knowledge, I encountered such "yoke-fellows" and reproached their union; alas! what great impudence I experienced from these ignoble dealers in matches! For after they had shouted violently and neglected nothing in their threats, these new "canonists" cited a recent piece of legislation, saying: "Since we had knocked once or twice and found the minister of sacred things not listening, we went elsewhere to seek what we desired," saying something similar, so to speak, to this: "With the dough mixed and the bread prepared, C finding the oven unsuitable, we ran to another." Men truly worthy of the oven of fire mentioned in the psalms!
But these people also stumbled into something much worse, or at least something absolutely illicit. For in the morning the betrothal was performed, and immediately the hidden marriage was consummated. This abominable thing was snatched by them in an hour; thus, in an act made against all regulation, they set up a trophy before the city; thus they acted with youthful haste against the imperial novella, and accelerated the guilt, before the canon could stand in their way. And the wretches actually thought that they could hide from God, who penetrates with His eye into the very abyss, and if there be anything deeper than that! And they thought they could escape the eye to which nothing is hidden! But He who looks down from heaven both saw them, and sees them, and is indignant. D
A 18. I am ashamed to say what follows. But it almost escaped me: convicted, he was hotter in such evil than is fitting for a man, and being pressed by the children surrounding the church to the point of suffocation, he opened his rational mouth into a wide and deep chasm; and, eagerly extending his hands, with one finger touching the lower row of teeth and with the other the upper, he showed that he wanted to tear them apart and thus, more than naturally, enlarge the upper yawning gulf, so that he might vomit forth from it rivers of priestly sins. And having indicated this much by an enigma, he forthwith shut the doors of blasphemy. Yet this great man despised the humble lot of God, manifestly boasting that, had the leader not compelled him, he would scarcely have deigned to appear before the ecclesiastics. Thus haughty against the Church, this man was not accurately possessed of a beautiful name; thus conspicuous, he is to us until now an obscure man.
B 19. Thus do those who seem to be of God love those who are truly of God; thus is charity adulterated; thus is the Church honored by those among us who are dogmatic, who indeed boast that they honor and revere the Church, and belong to it, and are prepared to die for it, yet while they hold the ecclesiastics for nothing, they also hold ecclesiastical matters for nothing, philosophizing that there is no need for anything on earth—yet there are both ecclesiastics on earth, and things pertaining to them. What then, they say, account should be had of men and things of the churches, for which men and which things God has no need? O abject philosophers! O ignorant ones! O senseless and dull-hearted, having nothing sound in you! Since, according to the speaker, cities and ships are nothing if they are destitute of the men existing in them, then the temple and Church of God, as regards the divine clergy and the matters that pertain to them, are superfluous!
C 20. And you, O you who philosophize on marriage, reckon yourself with your house, and conclude that everything is within it; and you speak the truth. And the man who throws stones against a wall that belongs to you, you rebuke a little; but the one who has dared the throw against yourself, you judge and condemn. But us, the Church, you deprive of such justice; and while honoring the Church with your words, you insult her with your actions, declaring the Church to be venerable, but not the ecclesiastical tribe in like manner. You are ignorant, therefore, of what the Church actually is. You do not seem to me to consider that, to speak precisely, the temple is one thing, and the Church another. For that is an artificial construction, set apart for God; but the latter is a holy assembly, men called of God, sheep called by the name of God. D We have pity on those who think like you, O man; we pity your levity, we marvel at your untimely presumption; we censure those things by which you grieve God.
21. Yet not so do the ignorant lie about charity. But we, to those who know what kind of good it is, see that we set it forth—
A in the manner of a negotiation, as has been spoken before, that you also might be enriched and bring us profit, examining that which is from God and testing it as though it were the good money-changer himself—and then B comparing it with that which is from the demon, and while indeed avoiding the latter, testing the divine—and embracing the divine. For just as there is no communion of light with darkness, so neither is there of charity, which is according to the all-good Lord, with that which comes from the all-wicked demon.
22. Having therefore proposed to you for the sake of charity a good that is golden, and I would almost say similar to the sun, I shall add for equal utility other materials of this kind. By placing these in your bosom and exchanging them as is right, you will also gain salvation through them. I have no desire to contend, nor can I offer a guarantee that I have a coin to offer you more precious and beautiful than a coin of charity purified sevenfold. For all things, whatsoever I propose to you for reception, are mixed with such gold. Although some of the proposals may appear to be of bronze, yet they too are mixed with the gold of charity, and therefore they possess a splendid dignity.
23. You have also from us another talent C that leads to mercy, and this towards me before others. For you would not be merciful if, while you pity an elder whom you encounter somewhere—a needy, begging man—not just simply but for the sake of communication, and that a generous one, when the will of the soul is compunctious; yet regarding me, a decrepit elder, indeed lacking in all virtue but not unworthy of receiving mercy, you trouble me in all ways, not considering that "inasmuch as you do not do a good deed to the least of me, you do not to God." And thus you should first show mercy to me, your petitioner and unrewarded minister, in those things in which it is fitting, even if I am otherwise inconvenient, in those things where impossible ministries are not required of me. Then also pity the other brothers, as much as possible, for the love of God. To this talent, superimposing a consolation in sorrows when any brother is inconsolable, I demand something similar in the things that concern me; and I, God granting it, am rich in such consolations.
24. But there are nonetheless some measurers D regarding whom I fare badly; they are sharp thorns to us, rendering the divine meadow sterile, bitterness associated with honey, vinegar by which the spiritual moisture is deprived of its proper fruits. These would believe themselves to be happy if we were to die, and would think they had reached heaven in flight, if Tartarus had us. To whom I myself would say that it would not be for their praise if what they vow against us were to be fulfilled. For they ardently desire to see evil rushing upon us and immediately casting us down to death—which would that they might not see! But may it be granted both to us and to them to live, that they indeed may strike and wound, as they now do rejoicing, in vain, while we, on the other hand, wonder
A at their inactivity; and further, if by any chance the great Physician of souls might at some late hour grant them to return to their senses, and thus be restored to salvation. If, indeed, they carry hope of this, living as they now live, the poor wretches are acting foolishly; and being deceived by vain hope, they put their trust in the copper coins of a distribution, if ever they might show mercy to any, as though they were earning salvation from that source.
25. B And let this be proposed to you by me for the time being in this way. Behold, I suggest to you yet another talent, useful and dear to Christ God, which is: "to be of good judgment in the conduct of life," to which it appears that there is immediately joined being "indulgent." For it is impossible for the one to subsist without the other. And you will grasp these things artistically by such a rule as this: Consider, brethren, that not everyone who stumbles on the road is to be blamed. For he who wanders elsewhere with his eyes, and suffers a stumbling-block for this reason, is mocked; but he who has staggered because of the slipperiness of the road should not be altogether reprimanded, but should be judged with indulgence by those who judge rightly. This short discourse, this easy-to-grasp parable, this concisely formed argument will easily lead you to judge well, and immediately to grant indulgence, where it is necessary. For in a similar way, a man in his life will not always be happy, as if blameless on the road, and walking according to the Lord’s law; but there will be where, shaken, he will bend, and will stumble, and indeed will fall. And a man of good judgment and thus prudent will not quickly trample upon the one who has fallen, and heap up material for accusation against one lying prostrate, and bury him; but he will adjudicate, having regulated the matter according to the passion, C with a spirit of wisdom and understanding; and he will investigate the cause, having measured it by the quality of the person and the life associated with him, and by fortune, and by the contingency of time, and in a word, by all things to which a living man is subject; and having weighed all things, he will indeed administer the matter according to the direction of the law, if he is in charge of order and justice. But there is no reason why he should not be treated moderately, from the fact that he himself is a Christian, or as regards refined manners a Greek, or [not] formed in savage barbarity.
26. D And thus indeed it is when the judgment proceeds according to the world; but if it is according to the spirit, I for one would not persuade myself that such a one should not abound more in discernment and indulgence, handling the matter scientifically as God will suggest—unless, perhaps, the sin has proved to be against God Himself. For then it is not permitted either to discern or to be indulgent. And yet, even in such cases, discernment—and the indulgence that accompanies it—often has freedom of speech, as he who holds the primacy in knowledge according to the spirit demonstrates methodically. Or is there anything else that has allowed the Hebrew race to dwell with the Christian society, and to reside together, and to obtain mercy, and in a certain manner to live together? For whom it is permitted to worship as is pleasing to them, and to have a share of all necessary things, of the former things abundantly, but of the latter as far as is permitted. And indeed, if discernment were not present...
A and forgiveness following, there would be for us neither the Jewish tribes, nor indeed the evil [among] Christians, and what is greater, not even the atheists. If, therefore, [we] nourish such people (and there are thousands of them) without harassment, and with Christian forgiveness, why then do we exclude the good brothers among us, the upright Christians, from such a good twofold blessing, from this B godly union, from this fraternal love in Christ, I mean that which exists according to discernment and forgiveness?
27. Noah, the father of the second world, was once inebriated and, having cast aside sobriety and being not in control of himself, lay buried in a deep sleep, lying on the ground indecorously. From this, with parts exposed that ought not to have been, he was mocked, not by many, but by a certain one, to whom it was not fitting, and who was himself foolish. But those who were wise did not curiously attempt to see what was not allowable; but they even hid [what was] exposed in an improper manner. Indeed, they were blessed by both the one lying there, because he was outside the wine, and by God Himself, who is the most just C of all.
28. And I must consider the matter also in this way. That great man was inebriated; he lay indecorously; he was mocked by someone. Having been awakened from sleep, he recognized that one and cursed him, but he blessed those unlike him. And the blessing was great and beautiful, and God, assenting from above, permitted him to be great again, illustrious even until now, and to be so in the future forever. But as for the others whom that great one blessed, He ordained that they remain blessed and D worthy of good memory forever; but against the cursed one, He Himself cast His vote.
29. Why do You judge in this way, O Lord? You let the drunkard go. And not only that, but You also fulfill his wishes, and You bless those whom he blessed, but You judge that the miserable one, upon whom he cast a curse, must be cursed. "Yes," He says, "so I have acted, and I have done so with the most wise judgment, not merely adhering to that great person, but also to his good disposition and the other gifts that made that man just." The man did not have a habit of wine; but then he approached this liquid from the grape, as if from a certain springing fountain, just as one approaches water; and drinking the wine, as if it were a harmless drink, he experienced what wine is born to do. But when this descends through the esophagus in measure, it clearly produces gladness of heart, but it produces a paralyzing numbness when, after it descends beyond measure, and then rises again, having seized the citadel of the man, it reigns tyrannically. Thus, a man who has once been captured by the wine-sleep has become a drunkard; but, although he is inebriated, the nickname resulting from drunkenness does not adhere to him. So, on the contrary, he who has once done something prudently, not according to knowledge but entirely unwillingly, is not called prudent by those who judge correctly; nor indeed does he who has once at some time by accident dared something manly receive the name of a brave man.
And the most rigorous avenger A of all may, if it should happen, be the most unjust of all. Yet he is again iniquitous if, after that one single act, he persists in adhering to his former ways. And certainly that Noah of mine, though he was to some small degree shaken and troubled by wine in the beginning, rose again from his fall and, being established like a solid rock, no longer wavered nor fell; nor did that manly, divinely-inspired intention of his fail him. But being checked by a commendable measure, he was not moved a second time toward a fall, but toward a support, just as his nature was ordained and constituted according to its first origin. Therefore, he was not inscribed among the drunkards, but guarded the gift of prophecy inspired in him from above, even until the end, and he has been numbered among my ancestors.
B 30. See, brothers, how God himself, who is judge above all—for He is also above God—judges and discriminates, and how He discerns, not toward severity, but toward philanthropy, indeed out of love. Why then do we not, as far as it is possible, liken ourselves to such a judge, but instead judge and pronounce judgment toward harshness, and in most matters, in which we neither should nor, in any other way, ought to, we stumble frequently? But there is some circumstance at hand that helps us, to which the one judging can look, so as not to be compelled to condemn his brother, nor to be carried away to speak evil of him. Why then do we C ponder uselessly, those of us who throw stones at the innocent and stone the blameless, against that most philanthropic saying of the One who said: "He who has not sinned, let him cast a stone at the sinner"? Or rather, why do we want to strike down those who have not sinned against us at all, doing harm to them in no way, but rather adorning them with crowns—whether for the sake of patience, or because they suffer both insults and other things for which such a man is deemed blessed in the holy Gospels?
31. Penetrate, you who sail skillfully D through the hierographic sea, and grasp more insightfully the meaning of the Gospel word: "He who has not sinned, let him cast a stone at the sinner." It is a mystery truly stunning; and there is no other judgment that can be equaled to the one here manifested. And rightly so. For God is above all, and above mind and things, and God's judgment is above all. He undertook the sin upon His shoulder here, He who takes away the sins of the world, He who is all-pure, He who is all-light, so that the person for whom He spoke might be shown mercy. "He who has not sinned," He says, "let him cast a stone at her." And yet, the hearers, stubborn judges that they were, surely had it in them to say: "Since you, who have not sinned, are commanded to cast a stone at the offender, do you, as the sinless Son of God, cast the first stone and slay the transgressor." But knowing that He would stop their mouths, He responded to them immediately and firmly by saying: "And look, I, God, as the sinless One, do not cast a stone for slaughter, just as I will not strike out a tooth for a tooth," nor will I gouge out an eye for an eye; but rather I will heal the disease of the
one who has sinned more gently, because I am not even a shadow like you. They became silent, A and the weight of helplessness, like a stone, was cast upon them. And behold, here is the stone of the Gospel for you—I venture to say it confidently—and a pearl, both a kind of stone and a pearl, which you should trade as an evangelical, precious item for profit.
32. Now there was here a victorious argument for the Savior against those severe judges, B drawn from the greater to the lesser. "For if I," He says, "who am without sin, do not cast a stone at the sinful woman, surely then neither do you; and those who are nothing before Me because of the sin in you, will you engage in the action of stoning? You will, then, clearly grant forgiveness with discernment, as I now myself manifestly begin to give you law, being flesh-bearing, I who from eternity have used such discernment for the common salvation, and My apostles and heralds, having received it from Me, will legislate." Such is this divine talent, pertaining to judgment and indulgence, C through which there will be much, or—one might say—even an infinite gain for you, if one were to calculate further than the infinite.
33. But it seems to me, from what I perceive as I look on, that most of us are inept at handling such a good because of the pettiness in us, and at times because of a lack of examination in accidents, and also because of suspicion and levity—for I hesitate to say because of envy. For from such causes as these, D the lack of discernment is for the most part produced, the result of which is implacability in those who are not accustomed to act spiritually even where it is appropriate, but who are always found among severe accusers. Being cruelly exasperated and blinded by anger, and therefore seeing poorly, they not only curiously scrutinize beams more than they should, but even if there should happen to be a brotherly speck of dust, they exaggerate it as if it were Mount Olympus. And when they judge thus, they consider the person who spits for any natural necessity to be spitting insultingly, and they judge blindly that the one who simply clears his throat is clearing it in hostility; and they take the dripping of aromatic oils to be a pouring out of mire. "That person passed by us and did not greet us: therefore he did an injury, or at least he is contemptuous." "He met us and did not speak, did not laugh, nor even smile: therefore he is our enemy." "Such a person welcomed and embraced so-and-so, but did not remember us: therefore such a person is hostile, not hospitable, nor affable." "Someone slightly offended by us speaks against us: therefore he is a slanderer, litigious, and contentious." "The priest, struck by us yesterday on the cheek and then put to flight, and today asked to turn the other cheek, backs away and refuses to present his cheeks to receive a resounding slap, while we applaud and rejoice and laugh: therefore such a man is a transgressor of the evangelical commandment and mindful of injuries." We speak, and he listens: therefore he is deceitful, and for that reason watchful.
A We attempt to cause damage—for it must be assumed one must speak thus—but he resists and stands his ground; therefore he is violent, not a lover of the brethren, and contrary to the Gospel. For otherwise, he would have yielded to one wishing to take his cloak by giving up his tunic as well. We lay snares, but he foresees them, and thus escapes destruction; therefore he is curious and overly circumspect. We threaten, we terrorize, we frighten; but he despises this, or perhaps opposes threats with threats; therefore he is fierce. We stretch the bow, we whirl the sling, we hurl a javelin and an arrow, but he is protected by a breastplate and perhaps calls upon some assistant; therefore he is bold and turbulent. He disputes a judgment, having suffered calumny; therefore he is a contradictor. We cast lightning against him, but he, closing his eyes, is not terrified, but even after the lightning finds for himself some remedy for his sight; therefore he is meditative and speculative. B Often hearing harsh things, he remains mute; therefore he is subdolous and dissimulating.
34. What do you say, you such judges? Do you not know that all these things are indiscriminate, and sentences of a reckless mind, in which there is no knowledge according to science? Come then, I will ask those who are, as is said, opinionated, and if they can, let them answer and free themselves from the indiscriminate judgment by which they are convicted. Is it possible, O good sirs, for someone to be prohibited by nature, for the sake of judging—or rather, condemning—from spitting or clearing the throat? If, however, you, O such a one, judge that this disposition happens against your will, this is a lack of discretion on your part, just as if someone were doused with perfumes but were believed to be anointed with dung, or if someone simply failed to offer a greeting and were judged to be doing so out of insult and mockery. C But what further necessity is there for a man, from wherever he might be, to speak to those he meets in vain and uselessly, and to laugh at an untimely hour? But as for him who gives to one who gives, and does not give to one who does not give, whence would he have just reproach? Certainly not, if indeed he has deliberative discernment. Most of all, therefore, he would be mocked who gives simply and as it happens, as being either excessively ostentatious, or officious, or busy-bodied. But who, having suffered an injury, would not speak with wisdom, if he is wise?
35. But one must by all means patiently endure and remain silent when insulted, and especially the priest (you speak of God’s forbearance), D just as he who is struck should not turn away from the one who wrongs him. Shall we, as the indiscriminate wish, grant our ears to those who speak—those ears upon which nature has placed no gates—and, when harmed, be grateful; but when surrounded by snares, shall we voluntarily fall into the hands of exterminators to our destruction? But we would be fools to do so, and even to be mocked by those reckless ones, if we were to present ourselves as such, as stupid or insane. Enduring threats and wars, shall we not be armored with a breastplate, shall we not be protected by mail, shall we not take up possible help, but with hands bound, and, as is said, bowed in tortoise-fashion, shall we fall headlong? But let us consider the slaughter
A of the head. And we might be condemned, or ourselves be B self-slayers, if the slanderer is to be greeted honorably as one who speaks the truth. The matter is not easy for all. Nor, indeed, shall we guarding ourselves in every way against those who attack us, and being evil-spoken of, reply out of necessity by cursing, and prattle like harlots the things which are neither proper nor permitted. Nor does this belong to wise men, so long as one is guided by right reason.
36. I exhort, therefore, those who are without discretion to desist from writing and judging as they please, and to endeavor instead to imitate painters who fashion precise characters—which it is certain are not counterfeit—and diligent and consequently upright judges, so that God may also encounter them with similar judgments. For if we desire, conjecturally and according to some surmise and suspicion, to impose upon the dispositions of those known to us, drawing from poorly understood principles, and we do not bring with us the discretion to forgive, there will depart from us whatever is social, and consequently whatever is political, and whatever is founded in mutual love; and in the end, it will behoveth each one of us, so as not to be among men, to seek solitude, to wander somewhere with the crows, or at least not to be in the world, but to migrate across the Ocean.
37. And these things indeed concern those who are better known, who have also tasted of common salt, and in other ways have arrived at a more intimate acquaintance. But if anyone, having no foundation or beginning of acquaintance, and not knowing a man’s life or his virtues or his evil deeds, judges a man, neglects inquiry, condemns him, and immediately wishes to impose a reckoning upon him, I have no argument to make to such a person, nor do I present the talent just proposed to such a man. For he is entirely ignorant of how to discern, and is not even sound in his senses; therefore he would not produce any profit for me, nor through me for my Lord, whose treasurer I am. But let him look for another money-changer: as for me, I shall expend the treasure of God C into the hands of those who know how to cling to Him and to do His will, and not intently to pursue evil judgment, so that that gift might even be esteemed as divine and therefore not to be rejected.
38. I have another talent to set before you, namely that of fasting, which we are beginning—our primordial nurse, the noble sprout which the first paradise brought forth, and to which, had the ancestors of our race clung firmly, they would not have been expelled from there, and through which the human race returns to that place again, if it only wills it. For this fast struggles to bring back into Eden the sons of Adam, that it might dwell with them there where they were first established; but D especially into heaven itself, where it has the greatest share, into which it exalts those who, through love for it, aspire to the elevation that is proper to it, that is, the celestial.
39. For where else is there intellectual apatheia, the goal of fasting, if not in heaven and among the most holy orders dwelling there? Or does anyone think there is a different purpose
to fasting,
other than to [keep] the mind...A render the fasting ones unimpeded, and to make them free from passions, even if those within us scarcely achieve moderation in passions? For fasting in a way makes one like the angels, in that, through an angelic life, it proposes to refine the mind of the one fasting down to its very essence, even if he, for the most part, has a natural contrariety to such a proposal of fasting, through the downward-tending and earthy nature of the body. Fasting, therefore, is native to both paradise and heaven, and these two places are its natural havens, dear to God, resting places for souls, and inaccessible to demons. For this reason, fasting desires to establish in both of these places those who rightly rejoice in it, and [who do so] according to a correct purpose, which is successfully achieved only through love.
40. For not even the beautiful metal of fasting is unmixed with the golden discoveries of love; but even this good is mingled with it, just as it is with those things that precede it. And we all know, as many as have the capacity to know, that through fasting love is generated in us, not only that [kind] which is, so to speak, B inherent, but also the transitive, or to express it otherwise, that which is self-affecting and that which is other-affecting. I call "inherent" and "self-affecting" love that which is contained within the faster himself and only in him. Such is he who dwells alone in hope in God, and lives in the desert, where the Lord alone visits him. For such a man has love abiding in him as a solitary, and he alone experiences this perfecting affect, not extending the rays of virtue for the illumination of others—just as the sun does not, while it is hidden under the earth.
41. Such is the inherent and self-affecting love, to speak in a typical and coarse way; but the transitive and other-affecting [love] does not limit its own good to some one person, but extends it, distributing it to the community, as much as is possible. And so, the faster who does not escape notice, and who has not proposed to live as an anchorite, and thus seeks not only C not to be hidden from men, but even, if it were possible, to be hidden from the sun itself—yet chooses to manifest both himself and the light that is within him in the darkness of life, and thus to be conspicuous—strives toward that which is more divine in virtue and which draws closer to God. For indeed, God is not content to gather His own good into Himself, compressing, constricting, and narrowing it, but extends and unfolds it; and thus He multiplies His benefits as each occasion requires, for He has not ceased [to act] because He once worked, but continues to act even now.
42. Thus, then, fasting is a golden mixture of other virtues and of love itself, through which, for some of the fasting, passionlessness is produced, and for others, moderation of passions. And that is a most blessed achievement, when someone D becomes so brave and invulnerable against passions that the turbulent and strong reason does not dare to assault him, nor does the devil who presides over such things find footing against him. For such a man is so disposed toward the passions, as if he were unaware of what evil is, and as if he were not a man subject to passions.
A And in this way he is truly most blessed; yet the second man is also blessed, who struggles and is buffeted, but is not cast down; who boxes against the passions of the soul, but overcomes and rules, just as Samson did the lion, and who treads upon the asp and the basilisk, and does not belie the man who is truly brave, winning virtue by force, as they say, and wrestling like an athlete, yet never failing. The former is truly a king over the passions, the latter a viceroy. Therefore, the former has no account to give; for of whom could an account be asked who does nothing displeasing to God? But this latter man might perhaps have accounts to render to such a king, as it were, if he does not quickly gain the victory, or if he transgresses the law of the contest when not acting according to discernment—that discernment in which, not hitting the mark, those who fast are sometimes corrected by the canons. B Yet it is love for the brethren that brings such discernment to perfection even in them. For by regulating himself through this, in regard to both himself and those around him, he will emerge as an invincible athlete, sometimes yielding a little, sometimes applying force; and thus he too seizes the good, so that he who is without passion, on account of his simplicity, is ignorant of what sin or sinning might be, while he who has moderation in the passions knows with scientific knowledge, through the rule of the good, what is not good, yet seizes the kingdom of heaven by force.
43. With this matter thus established for us, I add the talent concerning prayer, and the talent concerning the most complete mercy. For we proposed something brief above regarding the small coin of this. Of these two talents, the one tends toward God Himself, to whom good prayers show us the way to ascend; but the other tends toward His brethren, who seem to us to be the least, but who stand otherwise before God, through whom our own prayers are also ferried across to Him. C
44. I am declaring to you a priestly mystery, in which, when we pray in private while performing the divine liturgy, we call upon God, through the remembrance of the most good Lord, to be also mindful of those who remember the poor, so that the hour of that prayer, taking them up, may present to God—before His most holy throne—as many of the brethren as are mindful of Him. But those who are not such do not draw near there. Therefore, such brethren of God are doorkeepers, trusted patrons, and servants of God. We must, therefore, make use of them as mediums in matters concerning salvation; not gratuitously, but according to the retribution that comes from God. For whatever the brethren receive, they also share with God; from this, He bestows grace in return, constrained by His own law toward remuneration. It is manifest, moreover, that love, which brings such good things to pass, has its part in these matters as well. D
45. No prayer, therefore, is sanctified for those who do not love, nor indeed is mercy. But it must be understood, brethren, that I am proposing to you mercy—not just any kind, but that which is canonical, that which comes from righteous labor, and
A And not from an odious abundance, not from thefts, not from robberies, not from accusations and slanders, and never from illicit usury. For almsgiving from such sources is as unacceptable to God as that from the wages of a harlot. For upright and accurate mercy greatly pleases the merciful God, who desires mercy and not sacrifice, or anything else, or even the sacrifice of praise, since praise also accompanies all manner of mercy. But many of us offer praises that are foreign to mercy.
B 46. But why should I bring forth to you in detail this matter, or that, or another, and the rest of the countable talents of God in addition to these? Come, I will entrust to you the whole treasury of our greatest King, God Himself, the storehouse in which all sacred wealth is laid up and sealed, from which you, as faithful servants, may gather whatever you wish to bring forth for a loan; and by taking from it, you yourselves will satisfy a desire acceptable to God, and you will leave the treasury of God as full as it was before. For this is the most marvelous thing of all: indeed, all who thirst for divine things draw from thence, and those who hunger according to God are fed; yet the storehouse of the treasure is always full, and to those wishing to take from it, it is offered full. The guardian and steward of such a most wealthy treasure, which perfectly encompasses all riches, is, in the last place, the throng of the divine evangelists and the rest of the most divine apostles and holy heralds; but before them is the great king and forefather of God, David, to whom such hidden riches have been entrusted by God, not so that he might dispense them to the sun, where they would be transparent because they are incommunicable, but so that, keeping them safely, he might make them desired by those who wish for them. For the men of the great King, God, who desire David and the Lord who made him reign, pant after them completely.
C 47. But what is this treasure, both small and great, both brief and innumerable, which is in quantity constrained and circumscribed, but in quality most great and blessing the whole world by the generosity of the goods flowing from it? Lo, perceive it with all attention and diligence, that you may conceive it briefly and grasp it perfectly as the gain of the kingdom of God itself; and having gathered your thoughts, and, if I may so say, turning the linear extensions of the soul into a circle, and thence methodically rolling them up as if in imitation of heaven, in which God sits above all things and does whatever He wills, look into the great storehouse where the fullness of all virtues is preciously preserved. And this D honorable, or rather most venerable, treasury of precious things is such: "Decline from evil, and do good." (Ps. xxxvi, 27) Small is its
A circumlocution; yet its capacity is of an ineffable complexity. One thing appears to be a divine precept, but it is the equivalent of all things. On it hinges every virtue; it is, so to speak, a valley into which the streams of every good flow. I wish to call it a vein of gold, and in so saying I would not be speaking of anything exalted. It is, therefore, the purest vein of every scriptural gold-mine, requiring neither fire, nor bellows, nor a melting furnace for its testing. It is a Lordly receptacle that carries within itself all good things, a vessel of every divine precept, a thing which one might call a universal nursery of spiritual life.
B 48. But it must be explained to you briefly, O people of God, by what reason God has inspired [this]: "Turn away from evil, and do good" (Ps. XXXIII, 15). Behold, O divine people, this is a wealth beyond telling; take it as a loan. Behold a sea: sail across it, you who seek profit in divine things. Behold a fountain: draw from it. And if it appears small, because it is uttered briefly, taste it nevertheless, so that you may know that you would sooner grow weary of drinking than it would not only fail, but even diminish. "Turn away from evil," He says; not from this or that, or from one, two, three, four, or many [evils], but, in one word, from all. And if the phrasing, thinned by brevity, divides the name of "wealth," we must not here proclaim a philosophical brevity, which conceives of infinity and divides the whole in such utterances. It is said similarly here: "Turn away from evil," turn away from all wickedness. For the flight from one evil has no praise where similar evils encroach, just as the emptying out of mire [does not suffice] when another [flood of mire] flows in. "Turn away," He says—He says this as if regarding a road on which the traveler does not have a place of rest where he wishes. "I am walking, therefore," he says, "not toward virtue, but along a road leading to evil." Turn away, which is to say, break off from that straight and narrow line, and, turning back, follow the road that leads to good. And thus, surely, you will be saved.
49. But this turning is brought about by activity according to virtue, by activity according to love befitting and pleasing to God, by activity according to righteous deeds, by activity according to being free from malice, by activity according to temperance, justice, acting manfully against diabolical warfare, C truthfulness, mercy, equity, providing help to the needy—which is itself a kind of mercy; not to be bustling about fruitlessly and curiously when the work at hand requires simplicity; to sign agreements in truth as if before God; to preserve indelibly in a truthful soul whatever is written, and thus not to place the sign of the Cross in vain, and in some way to say, as [was said] of old: "Take him, crucify him" (John XIX, 15)—those brothers whom we deceive with the venerated sign of the Cross; not to inflict loss, whether by new injustice, or by not returning what has been entrusted, whether by title of loan or deposit, or for any other need.
A And to use neither that which is another's, nor that which is private, and—which is altogether more grave—that which is dedicated to sacred things.
50. This is what is meant by sacrilege. For one ought to bear in mind the temples among the Greeks—how many they devoted to demons. Those who knew this, even when they cast their eyes upon them, did so only for a simple viewing or out of wonder; they did not set their feet therein, but passed by reverently and, as they themselves thought, in a manner appropriate to sacred things. Had they acted otherwise, they would have been liable to the death then prescribed by law. And this is even greater: flocks of animals wandered and were raised freely in such groves, and these too were inviolable; and a man would sooner have eaten his own flesh than have laid a hand upon them.
51. B But now we seem to engage in theosis if we steal ecclesiastical property. Much of this sort of talk is among us: "Why do God and the saints of God have need of such things, since they neither sow, nor reap, nor eat, nor drink?" And if these things exist for the sake of others, so that the needy, they say, might be supported by them, "Behold, we are poor; shall we not take them and be nourished?" O wretched brothers of this sort! Do you not see that you are mocking God and divine things? Do you not consider that you are setting yourselves up as greater than God? For if you have bestowed something of your own upon friends, or kinsmen, or any other acquaintances, you neither wish nor are able to take it back and possess it again—both so that you do not appear deceitful, fickle, and wavering, and because you fear the law that punishes such things and the fine imposed by it. C Yet when you seize those things which have been gifted to God and His saints, you do not fear to provoke them to anger, nor do you show reverence for His most just vengeance; but, using the kindness of God as a kind of invincible shield, you shoot arrows against His priests and sacred things. Let us pray that we do not provoke Him again. For if that should happen, then by the very works themselves you will learn the nature of His indignation, who, just as He does not love thieves, neither does He love robbers. "The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof." Let each one, therefore, possess only what he has received from God, lest, by being unjust, he fail to experience the blessing.
52. But as we were saying, the turning away from evil also constitutes an irreproachable manner of life, and immunity from slandering, and from blasphemy, and the blessing given in times of need, and not bearing false witness, and rejoicing with those who rejoice in good things, and weeping with those who have cause to weep, and not acting savagely or punishing those who have committed offenses in an intolerable manner; but further, to offer helpful advice to those who are in need of it, and thus to lead them away from the abyss of destruction into which the less prudent fall.
53. A most notable turning away from evil is the method of mutual lending. D First, indeed, that which is handed down by God, according to which even he is praised who has not given his money at usury; and second, the legal one. He who lends neither according to the former, nor according to the latter, even if he is burdensome
A And yet I say, confident in the truth, that it is accursed and unspeakable. For I ponder how usurers—since there are many types of "offspring" (for not only humans give birth, but every animal, except for the species of vultures; nay, it is said that even the earth brings forth offspring, and the sea; the mind, too, brings forth natural fruits; and, in general, the name of "offspring" or "usury" is widely applied)—have appropriated this term for themselves in a singular way, specifically for that miserable usury of theirs. Nature knows nothing of it, nor does human integrity, and God, indeed, forbade it. Therefore, this call is common and loud and clear among them: "Give me my usury." Of what kind, O usurer? That which you bore, or she whom your handmaid bore, or your daughter, or your ox, or your horse? "No," he says, "but the offspring of my silver." But is your silver a living thing, man, so that it can even give birth? "You seem to be mocking me," he says, "O debtor. But give me my usury." And if this remark of the usurer is not weightier, it is at least more ridiculous, as he claims to be deprived of what he seeks: "The usuries have destroyed me," meaning because they are not paid. Therefore, O usurer, this is clearly not a good of the Lord for you. For the Lord does not destroy, but enriches with greater additions, and makes happy and honorable; but this "offspring," as you call it, destroys. It destroys you as regards your soul, and the one subjected to you as regards his life—may it never be! But when someone, restrained by shame from calling it "offspring" or "usury," calls it a "convenience," finding for himself this place of ambiguity—then someone, having let out a laugh B that is surely most grave, and then adding certain words taken from the most holy David, will say: "What convenience is in your silver, in that it sends you down to destruction?" O deceitful usurer, how long will you be like this? For I call you "deceitful" rightly and consistently, linking such things to the great prophet and king, who, in the passage where usury is discussed, thus rebukes: "Usury and deceit are manifestly practiced in the squares," since usury is everywhere accompanied by deceit. In a similar way, too, do those who provide it for a "convenience" lie outright regarding divine charity in their illicit practice.
54. But since I have exhorted [others] many times before regarding such evil and achieved nothing, but rather have even increased the evil, and the labor pains of my soul have brought forth a magisterial usury as an unformed offspring into the light; to You alone, O Lord, who are powerful and almighty, I entrust that You cause this massive usury to miscarry—this D demonic production, this offspring of greed, which crudely hates brothers, which is an enemy of God, and which is hated by God and hateful to God.
55. Furthermore, in addition to the things said, he also avoids evil who denies the slanderer, who repels the calumniator, and who does not investigate the lives of men without necessity, nor matters not pertaining to him, neither according to the spirit nor according to the flesh; who does not practice deceit in business, who does not reduce the rule to servitude, who does not trample upon the laws, who does not merely allow his elder and superior to hold the first place, and to him...
A He yields his seat, but does nothing that is not respectful toward him; indeed, he is silent when the other speaks, obeys him when he speaks of good things, and acts with discernment when he makes a mistake. Furthermore, he turns back anyone who is in any way wandering, as far as he is able, and leads him to the right path; he answers questions correctly and not out of hypocrisy—which the true light, the Truth itself, God, hates, but the prince of darkness greatly loves because of its likeness to himself.
B 56. For is not every hypocrisy—apart from that which is taught logically—something dark? Is it anything other than a vain simulation of the good? It is an instrument of deception, a fabricated beauty, a statue of malice; dirty, paltry, and adulterated within, but appearing very beautiful without—not jaundiced in color, but resplendent with a certain dim, golden brightness. It is a pit adorned with flowers for the destruction of those who fall into it; an image of a soul committing fornication; malice dissembled, showing a nature utterly similar to the devil; it is an incarnate lie, a harbor bristling with sharp, submerged rocks in the sea; it is a beautiful snare, a beast with a laughing face, whose grinning look clashes with the sharp edge of its teeth. It mocks righteousness, for it always uses a crooked movement and, for the most part, as the Psalmist says, walks in a circle like the wicked. It is a hidden intriguer against charity, in that it is humble, as the proverb says, and like a lurking viper, it drains the man dry. It is a fox full of guile, deceiving the simple and, for the most part, the most gullible of all, since it pretends to be resting like a corpse. In the common way of speaking, this is both everything and nothing: the former in terms of its arts, the latter in terms of its works. For it wishes to be something divine and holy, but it ends up a wicked demon, ignorant of what the good of righteousness is; or, at any rate, it knows it, but does not practice it.
57. The hypocrite is a false man, and he might even be called possessed, or a demon-man. We know how the famous Argus, who saw all things, is fashioned to be such; but the hypocrite carries something else that is alien. For he lies with his whole body: with the bowing of his head, C with the glance of his eyes, with his sweet smile, his laughter, his kiss, his speech, and his spittle—he himself worthy of being spat upon; in a word, with his whole face, with his deep bowing, the locking of his kisses, the movement of his hands, his hair, his generosity—if perhaps he pities a beggar—with the bending of his knees as if in prayer, and with his entire gait. For neither when he walks with dignity does he do so in truth, nor when he rushes, pretending to help someone, does he act according to truth. But as for things pertaining to the belly and the parts connected to it, let them be passed over in silence, O soul, so as not to defile such a beautiful creation, and so as not to lie about this beautiful human being.
58. I think I have now clearly demonstrated that he who does nothing out of hypocrisy avoids such malice of soul,
A but acts according to the truth. For there is nothing in common between the sun and darkness, nor between truth and hypocrisy; rather, the opposition between them is direct, knowing no compromise. He truly turns far away from evil who neither divides friends, but instead negotiates peace even with enemies. For the former is a deed of man, while the latter belongs to God, the Life-giver, the God of unity; and in the same category must be placed one who does not stir up enmity, nor does he animate or inflame the spark of hatred, as if toward a conflagration.
59. Why, then, forgetting myself and the power that is in me, do I attempt to describe the select portions of the treasure presented here, by which one might avoid malice? Take this treasure for yourselves, and as you go about it, increase it and seek what is useful to you. You will find nothing at all that is not to your profit, to your spiritual utility, and to every good. Join with this: "Turn away from evil," also the connected talent, which bears the divine and truly royal seal: "and do good." For, according to the sacred explanation, it is not sufficient to turn away from evil, unless one is also exercised in good works.
60. I do not say this, however, for a simple and undivided sentiment; but I distinguish it thus: He who is already devoted to the virtues, and is filled with all good things, B but still has, as a human being, some small partition of malice, and turns away from such evil, it would suffice for him to act thus; then he would not hear these words: "And do good." For he has already done it; and once he has already done it, he will not cease to acquire something further, as though having already attained other goods; but perhaps from that exhortation: "One thing is lacking to you," he inquires into this, from which the former malice, as if enclosed by some wall, is separated, and he is, as it were, naturally established in good at the same time as the turning away from evil. But if someone who is not rich in good things casts off the harmful malice through which he is poor and destitute of every good, turning away entirely from evil, he has the necessity of adding to such a divine talent a second one also, C lest, being destitute of good, he be an imperfect human being—a hollow divine vessel, a house of God unpolished, formless matter, a good that is not beautiful, and therefore not desirable; but to speak accurately, one who is indeed an alumnus of every virtue, but abstains from one particular virtue because of the malice that hinders him. Then, he who has declined from evil and has clung to the newly acquired good, has the struggle and necessity not only of simply doing good, but also of doing it continuously, so that he may not easily and quickly be deprived of such a good, but by strengthening it for perseverance, from being recently imperfect, he may become a solid possessor of virtue. But it is to be said otherwise that every man who turns away from evil immediately also does some good. What sort? This very thing, indeed, to turn away from evil.
61. As for me, here, altering this prophetic and royal currency—not after the manner of a counterfeiter, D but by a change that is also pleasing to the supreme King, God,
A I consider it also in another way, not discordant with my own will. And I persuade myself, according to an interpretation which is indeed different, yet one that renders better even those who are timid like me, that we must flee from an evil man just as from an evil thing; and then one must strive either to make him, through conversion, achieve the good, or at least, for my own sake, do the good of withdrawing from him, lest I myself also be corrupted with him. For consorting with the wicked is accustomed for the most part to end not well. In these things, moreover, one can see this: "Do." B For He did not say, "Speak good," or "Teach," or "Think," or anything of that sort, but, "Do good." This, indeed, is acknowledged to be the ultimate intended end of all speech, doctrine, and reflection. But that withdrawing from evil and doing good is not itself separated from charity, the sweet and wise and holy king says, immediately subjoining this: "Seek peace, and pursue it" (Ps. XXXIII, 15). For as if someone were suggesting: "Give me the method, O royal preceptor, whereby I may accomplish both the avoidance of evil and the concurrent performance of good," he immediately teaches skillfully that by peace—or, that is to say, by charity—such good is to be accomplished. For peace is a solid segment of charity, not less than friendship, as is easily proven to one who considers it according to the truth.
B 62. If, therefore, there is no fleeing from evil and no doing of good otherwise than through peace, both the other kind and that which is within each one of us, according to which every spirit-born passion is reduced to servitude and thus subjected to the queen, reason; it must be sought if perhaps it is hidden. And certainly, if we seek, we shall find. "For everyone who seeks, finds" (ibid.), as we learn in the truth. If, however, after we have sought and found, we cannot grasp it for many reasons, of which we refrain from making mention, lest we affect our benevolent listeners with weariness and annoyance without necessity; C then at least we shall pursue it as it flees, which is to say: we shall run with haste toward it, our course being made light by Him who holds in His hands the prize of the heavenly calling, who gives peace to us who invoke His name. For certainly He who once said, "Peace be unto you" (Luc. XXIV, 36), and this: "My peace I give unto you" (Joann. XIV, 27)—namely, to my own—would not hide from us the peace that is sought, but will command it to come to us, provided that we invoke God, provided that we ask as suppliants, provided that we become worthy to attain peace, which is most dear to God; of which they who are partakers are blessed, but also they who are the authors of it are called blessed at the same time, as adopted sons to God. "For blessed," He says, "are the peacemakers, for they themselves shall be called sons of God."
C 63. I, indeed, and those who are with me, think in this way regarding the peace of God which consists in charity, and regarding men who are peaceful in accordance with this. I know, however, that there are some who are otherwise disposed and who become angry if they see some who are canonically reconciled to each other and loving God and spiritually...
A cultivating peace. They brandish their swords, cutting down such harmonies; they are not squeamish about stirring up disturbances, agitations, quarreling, commotion, vengeance, and sometimes even punishment. They seem to delight in blood and seek to exercise freely upon the children of God the ancient flagellations of the Lacedaemonians, the senseless torments of Mithras, the deadly games played by the Celts in their drunkenness, and the trials of the Scythians—people cast high into the air and then, as they fell, transfixed by upright spears. But to those who act in this way, the things belonging to peace appear—or so it seems—in a meaning contrary to the common, established, and correct understanding, and contrary to the divinely delivered Davidic word concerning peace. For such people do indeed seek peace where it might perchance be found; and, tracking it down, they find it among those who cultivate it, but they do not allow it to remain with them. Rather, they pursue it in a different way—not so that it might be grasped and preserved, but so that it might vanish from the earth—and they exult in the ambiguous duality of their "pursuit," as if triumphing over it through sophistry. For "to pursue" is something read in Scripture regarding love, but most often regardings hatred. Thus, those are blessed by God whom some heap with reproaches and persecute for His sake. But let such hatred, which is pleasing to them, be the lot of those who rejoice with the devil, the leader of enmity; as for us, let us have peace among ourselves, as God commands, and let us cultivate it with our whole soul.
B 64. Let us pray, furthermore, that even greater power from God may come to our most potent sovereign, so that he may exercise it fully and perfectly in the world for the common salvation. For even if some people often do not care to notice the dangers by which he is surrounded, yet when they descend to reflect, they know them accurately. He has, indeed, true and perpetual help and relief from heaven. For how could he not be enriched by this, he who was chosen directly by the Wisdom of God, whom he loved, and who was raised to the kingdom, and adorned at once with a royal crown and the trophies of which we are the first fruits? It befits us, however, whom he has liberated—after God—and by whom we live, to willingly contribute our own part in common through prayers, the hearing of which God will surely not refuse. For we know both what prayer is, and that God cannot turn away from a just prayer. For if He, as we believe, accepted inanimate C incense in the ancient law, and accepts the incense that befits the saints among us now (for He accepts it as a symbol of divine mysteries), would He not accept a prayer that is customarily directed to Him, being rational and animate, and proceeding from truth and a correct conscience?
65. Let us reasonably pray now for a timely wound, so that, just as that burden of servitude was once removed from us—with God D willing it from above, and yet...
A compelling that oppressor through our obedience, and thereby eliciting good for us—so now B that yoke, which delights in blood (you know what I mean), that barbaric yoke, that yoke which is always servile elsewhere but now shamelessly dares to fasten itself like a collar upon necks that have nothing in common with servitude—may God remove it from these unaccustomed necks, broken and shattered, and let him who has suffered such an evil forget what a yoke is, casting it instead into the pyre, such as the slaughter of servitude creates. C For the God of that freedom of ours is the same God now, just as the Lord is the same. This would come to pass now according to this good, if we but willed it, not in a great length of time, but more quickly; or if not, then in the blink of an eye, or with the speed of lightning, as they say, even before one can think or pray for it. And God can do this even more quickly than we hope. And this may be inferred from those sufferings of ours in our captivity. For if then, when no hope appeared, and no three-month deadline had been fulfilled, we were nonetheless delivered from those D great evils, which no one could even calculate: how much more will there be short relief here for those who do not fare well, provided that we are deeply contrite, and with open mouths—and thus filled with God—we cry out to Him those things that move Him to propitiation? For thus He will incline His ear toward us, and will care for all with benevolence, and those who act unjustly in their yokes, who are not sons of men, but by their own wildness and irrationality only feign the human, He will scatter by the inclination of the heavenly balance; and thus He will restore our primitive goods in the fatherland, to His own glory and praise, which is to the ages of ages. Amen.
BY THE SAME ON THE HOLY LENTEN SEASON ORATION III
D A preparatory oration by the same Eustathius of Thessalonica for the holy and great Lenten season, according to custom.
1. "Blessed is he who has done and taught." This saying puts forward two meanings, of which the first is this: Blessed is he among men who first has done, and then has taught in words what must be done for a similar work, as if it were necessary
A for him who has been taught to do good to teach others also; for whose virtue the recompense is partly human, partly from God, and for the most part from both. For he who has not yet done it, but is teaching it in act—like some wise man in word B only—might justly be afraid, lest someone say to him: "Have you ever done yourself what you now teach?" And thus he would be ashamed, having covered his face. And this is one meaning of the proposed text. The second is this: Blessed is he who has done, and in that sole act has taught others also to do a similar good.
2. Of these two meanings, the one set forth first befits man in the simple sense, as it is the form of an art according to which one cannot otherwise teach, unless he has first practiced and learned to do what is to be taught. But the latter C meaning, according to which anyone by doing immediately educates and instructs and makes some people knowledgeable—while teaching nothing in words, but remaining silent regarding matters belonging to methodical discipline—is something more divine, and not according to the art practiced by man, but it is archetypal, and arose with the primitive world, and is therefore primitive, and thus most honorable. For from the beginning God made and thus taught; when He first created the angels, fashioned the earth, established the heavens, and amidst these disseminated many and various things which can scarcely be beheld: from these D finished works, every man who came after could have been fashioned, even if he had heard nothing at all from teachers. But since the glorious things of the world, concerning which and through which God is praised, were not able to teach man—who was wandering aimlessly, however it might happen, and not turning himself toward Him who had made and thus taught, so that according to his powers he might be fashioned after the image of Him in imitation—then the Creator, sparing the clay from above, descended to earth, and putting on the speaking animal for the salvation of its own kind, He became the fulfillment of the aforementioned first meaning: both by personally doing the things that make the true man better, and by teaching them, and by setting Himself as the exemplar of human perfection. And thus, every one who does and who teaches solely through the act would seem to take precedence, according to what is more divine, over him who both does and teaches, whether he leads into works, and then adds the doctrine to them, and adds to those who are being taught: "As you see me doing, so also do you." And thus, for the most part, our field of conduct is plowed and planted fruitfully through the dispensation both of the one who does and the one who teaches.
3. Thus, with the two meanings of "Blessed is he who has done and taught" having been established, I observe something even more paradoxical in the second. For it is possible for some good to be done by a man, without his having any doctrine immediately, so that through it one might ascend to the things that are before the ages, to the true blessedness, to the happiness of the immortal God; since that blessed and immortal One, above those things which come to us from there
A is, because it is something altogether its own, for which no one was being taught, but He was alone in His own operations. And behold, this is some eternal operation, one that does not teach, to which the human mind—nay, not even the angelic—is sufficient to attain.
4. Yet someone will nevertheless demonstrate it in a dim image, which will subsequently manifest the ascetics as imitators of such a good: who, insofar as is possible for men, are expressed as similar, and having entered into spiritual corners, and hidden in caves and fissures of the earth, and living in solitude upon the mountains, and thus doing the things that are pleasing to the immortal God, they teach no one B openly, unless perhaps from them, against their will, some river gushes forth as from an invisible fountain, or brilliance shines out as a ray from the sun—that one indeed flowing with a teaching in its course, the other illuminating with its splendor. For they propose to themselves to remain hidden, practicing things according to God and studying to please Him alone, and thus doing good: yet they cannot be hidden, like lamps covered by a bushel, but, with God revealing, they shine forth in various ways: for neither can the sun, walking over the earth, hide itself, unless innumerable clouds, interposing, veil its light.
5. And behold also this third divine teaching among men; for let His most divine C and eternal archetype be excepted. Moreover, a fourth is conceived, contrary to him who indeed does good, but does not speak in a magisterial way according to what someone speaks as good, while doing nothing of the kind, but rather urging others to better things, while being contrary in those things which he himself does to those things which he speaks. And this tradition of doctrine is manifested by that greatest mystagogue who said: “All things, whatever they may say to you, do; but do not do according to their works.” 14
6. Four, therefore, of these having been set forth by us thus far: one, because things of virtue are done privately, with one looking on so that there might also be teaching; second, D however, by another manner, of one acting separately, in that good things are not indeed done, but others are taught them; third, however, in that works pleasing to God are indeed done, and thus in some way doctrine is handed down without a voice, but there is no vocal enunciation of teachings; and fourth, and more perfect, for the most complete discipline of virtue, in that due things are done, and by the tongue the things to be done are set forth with purpose; because, otherwise, others might be drawn to virtue, and thus the servants of God might be multiplied, and, by the teacher as leader, they might be enrolled as soldiers against the demons—(this remaining fifth: neither to do nor to teach, is to be contumeliously rejected from human affairs, and most especially from divine ones. For it is evident that it befits none of theirs, but is appropriate to the race that is according to the demon). And one must map out in yet another way that
A in such matters is the sixth: to do, yet to be unable to teach, because of the indocility of the disciples. For this itself is excluded from blessedness; since he is blessed who speaks to attentive hearers, but such is not the condition of him who speaks to the unattentive, like one who plays the lyre for a rock. Having thus explained these things, then, we say that the thing posited above, and thus first in the aforementioned matters, is proper to the holy men who live in solitude; those who, purifying themselves down to the very mind, and as it were gathering together what is spiritual within themselves, and touching upon the earth and earthly matters by points so fine as to be almost invisible, concern themselves with nothing else but God alone, caring most accurately for what is conducive to salvation, and, as one might not absurdly say, being sparing in the plainest manner in matters of virtue; not reckoning ancestry, not considering B tribe, not acknowledging lineage in their discourse, not counting wealth, nor public affairs, just as they do not wealth, nor fame, nor the whole world itself; but on the contrary, living in solitude for the sake of perfection, and as those put to flight from evil, they flee, so that they may save themselves, content if by the sole flight from the world they may present themselves to God as perfect men; believing that they themselves incur no charge thereby if they do not assist others by the law of human society. For they laudably judge that every man is sufficient unto himself for salvation, if he wishes, and is in need of no extraneous example, or leading, or direction; because God, without respect of persons, has bestowed upon us the dominion of the soul and its own riches, and to all equally, as a father happy in his offspring and loving his children, He has instilled the ambrosia and nectar of dominion, from which we have the strength to live immortally, if we have the will.
7. Now these ascetics of the solitary life also reason alongside this, those who live apart from the defiled, and who act in this way, yet do not teach, but rather throttle and circumscribe in themselves whatever pertains to teaching. And that, just as one who is ruled healthily by eyes directed towards perception is in no need of a guide to walk, so neither should he who has obtained a mind, and is thus illuminated by God, seek from elsewhere the leading towards the good. It is He whom God has dispensed and continues to dispense throughout one's life, unless each person shrouds and blinds himself, cutting off the light, and thus hiding by passions that most divine sun which is in man. C
8. And thus D, then, such athletes against demons are unknown to men but known to God alone; they become agents and makers of virtue, since for the most part the places where those who have withdrawn reside are like subterranean veins of gold, which flee from being dug and stamped into human coinage, because they do not lie on the surface, but plunge or hide themselves in the depth of the earth so as not to be seen. But for those in whom the good does not lie in the depth of the soul, but surfaces on the tongue alone, it floats superficially, and thus appears manifest; such men teach others while leaving themselves rudely and
A imprudently, as they are themselves cymbals or bells or flutes, each of which indeed emits a sound and perhaps for the sake of pleasure, but does not understand what it is that it sends forth; such men would not seek out a desert or any other secret place. For how could those who desire to shine with their tongue, who frequent the marketplace to be greeted, and who struggle before any work to be called Rabbi, and who reduce the small practice of virtue while performing in the dark, and who deliver their speech alone to the theater, act in such a way?
B 9. And yet they do not draw upon themselves complete vituperation, any more than they do good, since they do not perhaps divide things accurately, but are certainly involved in a sort of middle ground, and someone might not ineptly say that they bring to us a worthless container, but one entirely empty of good coin. For those who reject what is chief in virtue, the praiseworthy action, usurp a praiseworthy locution; and they are lovers of beautiful speech, just as those birds that have learned to speak softly according to a man, and in this alone simulate men, but as to speaking otherwise, they themselves abhor the sweetest honey, which he who has tasted knows what honey is, yet they name honey, and explain its nature, and set forth its notion to their hearers, and thus lead them to love honey, and in this at least they also seem to have some measure of praise. Pigs, as it is said, though they be workers of honey, abstain from it, and fashion from elsewhere what is in men—a desire for pleasant speech concerning sweetness; or, subdued by jaundice, they see and speak according to the truth concerning the honey which they themselves flee; C and, not accustomed to proceed straight, like twisted crabs, they nevertheless interpret what rectitude is by its nature; and although they are poorly disposed in their sight, perhaps like moles, they nevertheless love the light, and lead others to it, and are therefore worthy of attention.
10. Therefore, our Savior, who acting in truth and teaching accurately, and knowing that there is some utility in simple good doctrine, even if it could be emitted from irrational mouths, delivered that wicked priests teaching good things according to God should not be rejected. For it is manifest even up to the modern pious, that no one rightly promoted to be a teacher would dare openly to preach that which is not good, nor to teach heterodox things, even if he were the worst of all men: for it is known to no one among those who listen rightly that what is D pleasing to God is hidden, but that the straight way to what is good lies open to all the people, and is trodden by all, as a very broad path for those who see rightly. But all who are greater in number see by the grace of God, through whom common opinions and dogmas protect the divine commandments.
11. Therefore, the wicked man is not to be cast out for these reasons, if he indeed deposits the dross and the rot of decay in the depth of his heart, so that they neither sadden the sight, nor emit a foul-smelling odor,
A nor act imprudently, inasmuch as they are themselves cymbals, or bells, or flutes, each of which emits a sound—perhaps for pleasure—but does not understand what it is that it bellows; tales would not seek out a desert or some other secret place. For how would they act thus, who desire to shine with the tongue and frequent the marketplace to be greeted, and who take pains to be called Rabbi *before* [doing] the work, and reduce the exercise of virtue to a shadow, and deliver only their speech to the theater? And yet they do not even acquire that [virtue] completely; they wrap themselves in a portion of it at least; and someone B might aptly say that they bear a worthless purse, yet one entirely empty of any good coin. For they reject the chief part of virtue—the praiseworthy action—and adopt a laudable manner of speech; and they are lovers of beautiful speech, just as those birds that are skilled at speaking softly after the manner of men, and to this extent they simulate humans. And to say it otherwise, they themselves loathe the sweet honey, the taste of which the one who has tasted it knows, or knows what honey is; yet they still name "honey," and they explain its nature, and set its definition before their listeners, and thus induce them to yearn for the honey; and in this at least they seem to have something of praise. Swine, it is said, while being workers who abstain from honey, simulate from elsewhere the desire that dwells in men, by means of an agreeable speech about sweetness; or, subdued by jaundice, they see and speak according to the truth about the honey which they themselves avoid; and, not being accustomed to proceed straight, like crooked crabs, they nevertheless interpret rectitude as it is by nature; and while they are ill-disposed in their vision, perhaps like moles, they love the light nonetheless and lead others to it, and on this account they are worthy of attention. C Which our Savior also—who made and taught accurately, and knew that there is some benefit in a simply good teaching, even if it were to be uttered by irrational creatures—did not permit us to reject bad priests, provided they teach things according to God. For it is manifest to those who are pious even until today, that no one would dare, if he were promoted openly as a teacher, to preach things that are not good or to teach heterodoxy, even if he were the worst of all men; for it is known to none of those who hear aright that the things which please God are hidden; but that the straight road to the good lies open to all and is trodden by all, as a very broad and open path for those who see aright. For the greater number see by the grace of God, D through which common ideas and dogmas protect the divine commandments. Nor is a bad man to be rejected on account of these things, if he indeed deposits the dross and the rot of decay in the depth of his heart, so that they neither sadden the sight, nor emit a foul-smelling odor.
ON THE HOLY FORTY DAYS, ORATION III
it gushes forth, if any sweet fountain of water is gathered within; for even those hot baths that erupt from the earth, though in the hollows far beneath the ground where they bubble up they might not naturally be wholesome, yet when they stream forth into the outer air, they become accessible and healthful.
12. Permit the one who speaks what is good to speak, just as [you would] a child who is reading in the holy places, like those children carrying palms; and do not only permit this, but also praise and incite him, so that by lingering on such words, remaining busy, and having his mind applied to nothing else but speaking what is right, he may abstain from doing evil for at least some period of time. Perhaps he might even correct himself, perceiving at some point that he is bringing forth a word, if one may say so, worthy of praise from an unworthy mouth. For who knows if he himself might be sanctified by the frequency of holy speech, having followed it, and thus become habituated to virtue? And he will add himself to the disciples [of others] as a kind of divine first-fruits, and will form a God-beloved heap, which from this one grain had been accumulated toward perfection. Or what prevents a man thus teaching divine and praiseworthy things, welcomed by all his listeners and accepted in every way, from feeling shame at being a liar and from renouncing the being of two minds at all times when it is not appropriate, and from feeling weary that his tongue should shine, while his soul remains in darkness; and from uttering words by which he deserves to be crowned, while producing works for which the penalty would be the cutting off of his very head?
13. We have also a history that hands down that it is not right to blame one who speaks virtuous things, even if his opinion is different regarding other matters. And as for that later holy man, who having stumbled regarding the secure faith was nevertheless of necessity brought forward as a great teacher—having confirmed that he would himself think whatever he might think, but [also] that he would not pervert the Church of God, but teach the truth—I would not dwell on his story at any greater length. But I would add this to my discourse because it is very useful for the present [occasion]: that even that man, who was not good within, but was thoroughly knowledgeable in a heresy that is not praised, yet in outward matters was good, was corrected by another teacher after some time; and reducing his duality—which was in a matter where it ought not to have been—to unity, as was fitting, he departed as a friend and ally to God, having been improved by his tongue, and having poured out, as if through some bucket, the inward filth by which the good water of his teaching was being rendered useless. But if anyone objects that the former [man] was able to benefit in this way from a good tongue, but that it is impossible for another to turn out that way, he speaks merely by chance, and because of the paradox of this assumption he would perhaps defend an empty and insupportable thesis. For he does not wish to oppose an opinion that is impossible and not brought to a conclusion witnessed by evidence. Come, therefore, all you wise men from the outside, whose doctrines, although they are alien regarding matters of the faith, are nevertheless studied by the God-fearing with careful selection, since they contain a thousand things that are correctly stated, and bringing them forth,
A requiring no special understanding for the thing itself: likewise, one must also reason concerning him who is of evil character, but speaks words of virtue, and thus well-disposes the listener. The flute, and the rest of the musical instruments, bring joy, though they themselves know nothing, and are artificially arranged by others for the sake of pleasure; let him therefore also delight, who is in such a B position as an expounder of teachings, even if he is poorly disposed regarding things that pertain to the soul. For perhaps God, in His merciful concern, has restrained half of the iniquity, disposing his mouth to speak wisdom; and in due time, He will guide him to cure his heart and conscience as well. But even if we do not wish to expect anything of this kind from him, at the very least we shall marvel at him, according to the command of God, like the ass that spoke. Let us also consider that perhaps he speaks those things which he indeed desires to bring into the act of virtue, but cannot, because of evil habit; hence it is likely that he teaches the better things with his whole soul, and thus wishes, by the goodness of his words, to compensate for what is vicious in himself. And so, a priest is not entirely to be rejected who, though not in the goodness of his soul or of the works pertaining to it, speaks of divine things, teaching as is right. But he who does good, yet does not speak with his tongue what is appropriate, he too wins much praise for this very act alone. For having judged once and for all that the deed is more effective than the word, and perceiving that teaching about them is as if leavened C by zealous deeds, he has embraced only that which is the more effective; and by doing, he simultaneously teaches; and by himself performing the blessed things in living according to virtue, he thus blesses God in his life, to speak in the words of the Psalm, and others he instructs, whether seen or heard. For truly, the intelligent student, formed by doctrinal works, needs few or no additional teachings on the virtues in the exercise of these things.
17. We know that most arts also prosper through deeds in those who are learning; for the one being trained keeps his eyes fixed upon the teacher, and is directed toward the work according to him. And if he should happen to fall short of perfection, then he does find instruction that corrects him in a way of teaching. Frequent experience provides both students and teachers as craftsmen, from whom nature had taken away the teachers' voices, they being deaf from birth; and yet they taught, and the others learned, not by uttering and receiving words, but by instructing and being instructed through deeds; which one might not inappropriately call the substance of words, or ineffable words, or living thoughts. I omit mentioning the signs of nodding or shaking the head in the temple of Ammon, and perhaps elsewhere, D from which those consulting the oracle learned what they desired without a voice. Other proofs are also celebrated through various actions by the ministry of hands, without speech. And this is manifest from that fact, as the whole can be demonstrated by one example.
18. A certain king of old, suffering grievous things at the hands of insurgents, and devising a method of assistance, sent to a man...
A he sent to a wise man, asking him to teach him by what method he might firmly establish his rule. And the royal envoy insisted, seeking a written reply, so that he might quickly return to the one who had sent him. But while he remained urgent, causing much bother, the wise man hesitated to provide the writing, fearing, I suppose, that if he were to reveal the mysterious instruction in writing in any way whatever, he might harm the one who had questioned him; so he took the messenger as his companion. And since it happened to be the height of summer, he entered a deep field of grain and, drawing a sword, he cut down those of the stalks that stood taller than the rest. Having done this, he withdrew and went back home, remaining as he was before. The royal messenger was worried again, demanding the same thing as before. But since the wise man would neither speak nor act, the man sent by the king rebuked him, muttering that he was not being treated well if he were not deemed worthy of a word, having traveled such a long way in haste, only to be frustrated in his expectation. B Then the tireless solver of the royal difficulty, just as he had done previously in the cutting of the stalks, was now laconic in his verbal explanation: "Go," he said, "and report what you have seen." And having said this, he closed the book of his discourse. The man who heard him indeed distinguished the wise man from those who are truly wise, considering him to be of unsound mind; but he was utterly mistaken in his judgment. For his master, the king, looking into the depth of the work reported to him, beheld the keen and profound instruction of the wise man, and the revelation, made manifest by the hand, of the teaching hidden within the discourse; and he understood that the cutting down of the stalks that rose above the others was a lesson on the necessity of removing those among the citizens who haughtily exalted themselves in their pride and thus stood out. And having perceived this, and acting accordingly, he ensured the safety of his kingdom for himself, having learned the desired instruction not by word from himself, but by the deed of the wise teacher.
ιθ’. It is therefore manifest, so that we may not dwell longer on such matters, that we may be taught good things even when we behold virtuous actions, and that he who does good in silence is worthy of praise, and in the very act of working says, as it were, to those who are looking on: "As I do, so also do you." C Thus, according to the holy Gospel, those who see good works in others glorify God; and thus the apostolic light shines before men, with good works kindling and revealing the lamp of this light. Let us also call to mind here the sacred images, from which we also learn many things, not by words, but by the remembrance of the works which the archetypes of the images performed according to God.
κ’. These things having been thus considered, we must move on to the one who does, and yes, also teaches. The former is a praiseworthy work, the latter belongs to the doctrinal standard. And he himself is entirely blessed, through two instruments, which we possess as most effective from the all-wise craftsman, God, D perfecting himself as an image of Him, and a house, and a temple, and whatever else of this kind is best in name,
A to speak most accurately, they describe the man who is truly, and perfectly, and beyond all progression, blessed. And we find a sustainer of this kind, if we imitate the supercelestial teacher; who, while acting in other ways before the ages—in a manner that no one could grasp through human reason—afterwards, upon setting his hand to the creation of the world, immediately at that time infused doctrine into the minds of men, a doctrine that comes from his very works, those things beyond praise, those magnificent, rational, and supra-rational things. For some things teach us about the heavens, others about the earth, and others about the entire fullness that lies in between them. For the men of that age were entirely taught by this, that just as in the creation itself, so also in the things within it, some things are superior and others occupy an inferior place; and it is fitting that those things among men which are sublime and splendid should be venerable and untouchable by those who are more humble (since things above are also like this), while those that are below and humble and not resplendent should love the order that has been allotted to them and be circumscribed by their own proper limits. And the mind from thence conceives that the things lying above, and which are therefore more venerable than the things below and humble, B do not rise up and shine forth in vain or by chance, nor from themselves, but from some stronger and omnipotent author, who indeed placed the heaven in the highest, and set the earth, the mother of all, beneath as if by way of a union, so that the one might irrigate it, and it might produce its own fruits; but he also magnificently dispensed inextinguishable celestial lamps, that we might always live in light, illuminated by the sun by day, and by night—C but also possessing the multi-faceted lights, rising so faintly, apart from the moon, that we are not called out to constant agricultural or other active labor, so as to weary those who could not sustain an uninterrupted task, but rather that we might be able to stay awake through the grace of such lights, and rest through the intervention of the night.
21. These things, then, they were taught, and through the midst of these, other and more numerous and better things; and they were also taught further that, since men possess mind and reason, and possess this mark more happily than any other animal, being endowed by another, better Spirit, and by a Reason that surpasses all, the Author of all things that are in the world, they are enriched with such goods, as if by an inheritance belonging to them; which they ought also to seek always, as a noble child seeks his own father. And thus they received the hidden teaching which the world submitted to their view and, as was fitting, to their contemplation. D
22. But since this practical teaching from God found no men having their mind toward Him, but they misunderstood the primary Mind, who also created the angelic spirits, and those mortals who are a little lower than the angels, and the majority, driven by demons, were turned into madness, and not only went insane in other ways, but also exalted created and corruptible things into gods, fighting against God; then
A then, having pity on the madness of those for whom he had made all things and had made them well, he added doctrine to the first creation. And joining himself to this manifold method, he sends out many of his servants as teachers of the divine will, among whom, besides others, were the wise and various prophets of both kinds. Nor did the female sex escape being useful here for divine doctrine, but many were taught by it.
B 23. But when the law of sin still prevailed and the customs arising from it were not thereby abolished, but every doctrine, both written and unwritten, was ineffective, then, without mutation or descent from above into humble things, he descended and participated in human affairs as became God, and sat upon the throne of magisterial glory; and from infancy down to perfect age, continuing to do and to teach, he fulfilled those things which are for our salvation. Having performed this most blessed task, from which the privilege of happiness passed to all others who, receiving his place, act and teach apostolically, in both of whom both things are observed, even if they occasionally appear as if coming through one another. Every execution of good terminates in the doctrine of those wishing to emulate it; and every doctrine of good looks toward its execution, so that operation ends in doctrine, and doctrine in operation, and thus finally both proceed from each other. For indeed that property is a guardian, where each passes into the other by mutual exchange and perfects the man according to God. C
24. Positing now, therefore, this fact, that he pairs both these good things, namely, to do and to teach, we must also consider that one who is entirely different, he who neither does nor teaches any good thing; for he would not even be a brute animal, or one of the other species, which themselves are in a way assimilated to reason, in that on account of the wonders observed in them, they are summoned by the Psalmist to the praise of God. But such a one would more aptly represent a human being who is either stony or insane, who neither do nor teach anything, but only excite pity because they are estranged from their natural formation. Much more miserable than these are those imitators in whom there is the greatest malice and in general an evil disposition. But even more unhappy—indeed, the worst of all—are those who are so estranged from the form that tends toward the good that, while they do and teach absolutely nothing pleasing to God, they slip into what is least worthy, doing and suggesting things D hateful to God, and are no longer men, inasmuch as they have been transformed into most evil demons, doing bad things and teaching perversities.
25. Since matters are therefore in this state (and I have not, I think, failed to divide them correctly), come then, let us examine ourselves, ascending from the last to the former things, and let us see in which division we who now teach are to be ordained. That we should be hissed at as having fallen into the ultimate of malice, I will not say. Confident
A for I reject this accusation. For no one—neither he who tore his garments, nor he who bared his head, nor he who hardened his brow, nor he who lost his sense of shame—could reproach us, nor indeed throw away the evil which must be cast off, namely that we have handed down in our actions or in our words a doctrine viciously depraved by the devil, nor that we have neither done nor taught anything good in those matters which concern us here, whether for reasons of negligence or sloth, or for some other cause that anyone might devise. But if someone, with a diabolical mind, were carried to such great audacity against our manifestation, behold the time; let he indeed open his mouth, but we shall plug the gap with the stoppers provided by God, by which He makes even the mouths of lions slow to devour those who trust in Him.
26. B But as this twofold baseness of ours is rejected—the place of which was assigned in the foregoing, and also that which is placed after it in the sixth number, according to which the system of doctrine is absent from the teacher (for I refrain from recalling that further)—we shall necessarily fall into the fourth, as we promised, and we shall inquire whether, by doing or teaching something good, we have not stirred up the shame of those who are entrusted to us for discipline. And I indeed think that I have done much and set forth much for instruction; and whoever wishes to be my adversary, let him sharpen his tongue, just as a sword, for the open field, and I shall blunt it, not by breaking it into three or four parts—God providing the power—but by attenuating it even into atoms; for it is not granted to me to be His useless servant, so that I should be imperfect in all things, and entirely useless in these present matters. But if I firmly contend in the struggle that I partake of a twofold good—namely, to do and to teach—I would not entirely yield to any adversary C claiming I have no share with those who act and thus teach while acting. For where there is the twofold, there also is the simple. Therefore, if I have done and taught, what man of sane mind would wish me to be deprived of the glory of doing, since I follow one and hold firmly to the other as it accompanies me? But if someone, explaining the duality set forth just now, subjects our affairs to reason, as if we do not join the two together for the good (teaching the good, but not doing it), let him ascend also to a struggle of this kind, and regard me as a priest covered on all sides by all evil arts, but teaching good things; and I indeed shall desist from the conceded proposition that I teach and am taught good things at the same time, if the time of my life is extended. But let him himself demonstrate the malice in my works, so that he may reduce the perfect good in me to half. And if you are not able to oppose, you have taken upon yourself the darkness; but if you are able to do things which make for a demonstration, then the sacred Gospel will bring forth judgment against you, and will reproach you for diverse reasons, as well as for the fact that you ought to do all things that I teach, but not imitate my D works. For it prescribes to you to argue, and to rebuke, and to exhort, and thus to apply those things which lead to my correction, yet not
A in a serpentine manner, and in such a way that demons rejoice. I think, moreover, that right reason condemns you from another source as well, if not just yesterday or the day before, or a little while ago, but from the very beginning, when I obtained this sacred lot, up to the present day, you calumniate me without proof, me who am the minister of the mysteries of God, and priest, and high priest, and sacrificer, and mystagogue of God among you, and according to the spirit, father, and teacher, and sanctifier in God; and you provide business and clamors and disturbances, and you act injuriously, and you feign brotherhood, and you separate yourself from the sacred communion, and you cannot endure to tread the same ground as us, nor breathe the same air; and if you happen to meet us, you turn sideways and avert your path, and you separate yourself from us, and thus you let B sinners fashion [demons] upon your back, and your loins be filled with illusions. Stop a little, look, speak openly, cast away what troubles you, condemn, take up justice, and then do what you wish: for if you win, you will make us better; but if you are defeated and recognize the truth, you will emerge better, having returned to your senses. Otherwise, live for yourself, alienating us from a madness that completely overturns the mind.
27. Verum etiam hoc ibi posito, C indeed, we shall not have need of long speeches for the first matter, which was that it is good to act even without tradition of doctrine. For if we show what we have done and do, at the same time this very thing is in some way demonstrated, at least as much as that can fall under demonstration. God indeed knows, and so do the guardians of all, the angels, every evil deed, but not everyone, I think, among mortals. For if most deeds performed holily and not outside the rule escape the perception of the multitude and therefore their knowledge, much less would those things which are gravely sinful and worthy of darkness, and having shame as their companion, and the cause of disgrace, become manifest, even to those who are not of the *same house, nor share the same roof, nor the same table.
28. D Indeed, thus I feel regarding these things—perhaps correctly, but perhaps also deceived. You, however, O dear audience, O brothers in Christ, O servants of God just as I am, O sagacious in intellect, and apt at judging what has been rightly done, through the virtues to which I have testified to you, through God Himself who is above every virtue, judge and declare and teach me in which of the enumerated places I am to be placed: so that, with my place known, I may be established in a certain stability of knowledge or ignorance, as I now firmly believe that according to my power I have done and do, and according to my strength, I have taught and teach. I think that it is not far off that I also am a man of God, just as each one of you; and thus thinking, I judge it worthy by necessity that, by analogy with my humanity, I should therefore always encounter the same symptoms. What do I say? I wish that when I bless some, I am not cursed,
A nor when I do not steal, be stolen from; nor when I do not plunder, be plundered; nor when I do not trip others up, be tripped up; nor when I do not wrestle, be thrown to the ground. I do not steal, nor do I abstract anything belonging to another; I demand, therefore, that others also commit no such transgression, neither regarding other things, nor regarding my own—and I say "my own" not undeservedly, for God has supplied them to me for my stewardship. I rebuke those who furtively snatch away what belongs to God and his saints, and I myself ask for rebuke if I too have acted foolishly in a similar cause. I am attacked by many with malicious boundaries: whose inheritance of them all, pray, have I ever conspired against?
29. Therefore, I wish with all my soul that what I have said should neither be attacked slandersomely, nor disparaged, because I have not imprinted any such wound upon my own soul. B For I define even these things as spiritual wounds which come from slanders and detractions, and as wounds not of those who suffer them, but much more of those who inflict them. For they who have suffered slanders and detractions have a crown from God, the rewarder of the contests of virtue, whether they have been caught in the nets of malice or have escaped them. But they who have practiced slander and reproach, if, robbed of their crowns, they could no longer be objects of ridicule for their disgrace as if anointed with pitch—this, however, is not the heavy part. But that is miserable and truly worthy of tears, that they are wounded within, the conscience indeed torturing them, while their breasts are lacerated as if they had accomplished nothing pleasing to themselves. And concerning such people, it is well said that the darts directed against the innocent were retorted upon themselves, and their own swords entered into their own hearts; for what they themselves cast were considered like the darts of children, and perhaps did not even strike; but what justice retorted against them penetrated to the interior of the heart and deepened the wounds.
30. Furthermore, I wish that when I speak of just things, I should not be despised, but heard. C For I am not here a common or ignoble man, but I hold the primary seat for teaching; and the citizens of this place obtain the opportunity of learning under me as their master. This is a gift of the divine Spirit, who appointed me to such a work, by the grace of which I am also considered an apostle of God. Moreover, an apostle, just as every elder, is not judged unworthy of attention, but those who are gathered in assembly first listen to him; then, if they recognize that the words are for some utility and benefit, they listen, and learn with docility, and send away the speaker in peace. D Why, therefore, do I not also obtain such a good? I teach, and you ought to learn; I act as an ambassador, listen, and pay attention to what must be done; I have been sent, observe. But if the words spoken do not please, doubt them, and let the arguments and the solutions be weighed accurately on a scale; and thus let our discourse run freely; or, if any suspicion of falsehood is submitted to the spiritual coin-tester, each one of you has in the spirit a Lydian stone, and through it can test what kind of purity there is in such-like cogitations. And thus, indeed, well
A shall stand the matters of either the embassy or the discipleship. But before such a thing happens, it is a vain crowd that frets itself either against a teacher or against an angel. I have not been sent, O people, as a flatterer here, so as to offer soft words to everyone, suited only for soothing and dissolving. For this is a trait of dancers and stage-players; but to speak more loftily, it renders God inimical to such a teacher. For every flatterer lies, and nothing in common has lies with God; therefore, just as the liar is not, so neither is the flatterer a lover of God.
31. I myself remember, not from long ago, but from long times past, of an impious flattery published in the greatest of cities, when a certain cunning flatterer, having dared a thousand strange things, finally inscribed the one being flattered even as a son of God; at that time when the lamp from Attica, guiding the patriarchal rudders, was illuminating that man, great indeed in dignity, in lineage, and in speech—if one has learned of the ancient Hicanatus, who presided over this dukedom—yet [a man] pusillanimous, because he used to place faith B in those who deified him and would assent to them, but otherwise also foolish, inasmuch as he did not perceive that he was being devoured by a flatterer, a wily beast.
32. The flatterer habitually fashions the plunderer as a benefactor, the one who looks toward the vindicator as a righteous judge, the usurer as one who bestows ground, the interest-greedy one as a great giver, the insulter as a praiser. To gather all things into one, he is drawn toward an extraordinary antonomasia, by which depravities might be honored with the names of virtues. What could ever be worse than this, or woe to those who underlie such things? Those who inherit this are also those who falsely and improperly call C bitter "sweet" and darkness "light." Oh, how many and what kind of, and how great are the evils that come from flatterers! An abscess is upon [the one being flattered] and, once burst, it reeks abominably; and the flatterer says the wound smells of fragrant nard. The one who is weak, and such that he is tripped up against a blowing wind, he extols into boldness; and after having persuaded him to be a firm rider upon a horse, when he has fallen, he does not blame him but faults the cloak for the fall. And if the body has suffered a wound from there, he blames the tunic, as being rough, and thus having ground away the flesh; and if blood has flowed out, he holds up as a pretext the tension of a limb, D through which the blood burst out from the ruptured vein. Born from men, the flatterer is not transformed into some good animal, but into a raven. For is it not equally malicious to call a flatterer (*colax*) and a raven (*corax*), according to one who long ago rightly conjectured this, and with correct stammering, affectionately called the flatterer by the voice of a raven? It is a great reproach to wash away with water a stain appearing on the face, lest the natural beauty of the form be ruined, yet to endure a flatterer who dirties not only the outer man, but also the inner. For does not the flatterer also destroy the soul itself, rubbing on foul colors, with which, when anointed, he [proceeds to]...
is destroyed—the good man? He who speaks with adulation serves the demon, who himself also, fawning with blandishments, smears over sins with cosmetics, and pretends to embellish them as if they were the beauty of virtues, inscribing them with good names. B
33. May such a thought never seize me, that I should basely flatter my teacher and deceive and trick him. God is a faithful witness for me regarding those with whom I constantly converse, that I find a friend who knows not how to flatter, but how to reprove. And I love such a man, and "in this I am wise," according to the testimony of the all-wise proverb-writer. Therefore do you also, every one of my friends, perform the good from within yourselves; this is the first thing. Do also the thing from the other side, as is likely; and do not, fleeing the reproof which the wise man loves, desire to be flattered and thus be deformed.
34. But since, as I said, I have not been sent to flatter, but it remains for me to be an instrument of uprightness, the duty of such a man is to speak the truth regarding the events that occur, which are various and innumerable, of which long time is the father, bringing forth artful deeds and thoughts; C he who has delayed to enumerate these may hereafter be confident that he can count the stars and the very sand. And thus, for the most part, every man will administer the truth purely and without concealment, just as it is, but especially the learned man, and even more so he who is established in the priesthood, and most of all, he who is of preeminence, the high priest. But when some event occurs, such a man will praise a hearer, either an individual or a people, for the increase of some good; and this is not adulation. For there is a vast difference between flattering and praising spiritually—as much as between truth and falsehood, and between earnest effort and play. For the spiritual praiser abides in truth, while he who praises out of adulation acts falsely. Now the praise that I am currently setting forth is a discourse D that blesses those who live in accordance with virtue. And it is either brief or weighty, according to the master's judgment, just as, conversely, a reproof is a discourse opposed to such praise, censuring him who does not cultivate virtue. One must also aim at this at the proper time—the one who teaches by the Spirit, striving now to awaken a pious and holy desire with honey and other sweeteners, and now to restore that which is diseased to health with medicinal bitters and other harsh treatments; to the former of which the aforementioned praise is proportionally poured out, while to the latter, reproof.
35. These things having been set forth beforehand, I have, by bringing them together, fully gathered that it is not permitted for me to flatter you who are mine, whom I wish to benefit, whom I wish to compose for the good, whom I wish to lead to truth. For I fear lest, by blandishing in teaching and thus lying, I might fight against God. For I might indeed blandish at some time; but when to someone
I hiss, as it were at a wild horse or an untamed beast; to which must be added those inescapable enemies, if they should burst forth from somewhere. And certainly I—that time of captivity was once an abominable one—did not want to flatter, and for that reason God was by my side; for I was loved because I spoke the truth in a straightforward manner. But if ever I did stir up bile in those masters, behold, the fire was quickly extinguished, quenched by dew from above.
B 36. Moreover, I further desire that both I and you should be wise. We shall be such not with great labor, not by the accumulation of books, over which eyes grow weary, not by the austerity of teachers, whose hands imprint painful welts, not by the idleness of sleep, through which much harm is brought to the sleepless, not by the weariness of feet from journeys, not by expenses of the sort that those who serve greedy teachers pay, not by a thousand other such things, which an education according to wisdom involves; but we need only to will and to assent, and immediately we shall have acquired all wisdom.
37. The rebuke, being loved by us, makes us wise in this way: “Rebuke,” it says, “a wise man, and he will love you,” taking hence an opportunity to become even wiser. O teacher who is easy of access! How manifest, how fervent! O one unapproachable by gifts! He both teaches and heals at the same time: the former, by the way he prescribes salutary remedies; the latter, because he cleanses the soul of its cachexia. The same person both leads down into a deep abyss and raises up to heaven: the former, when he humbles one out of repentance; the latter, when he raises one through the purity of repentance to the most high Lord. But if someone who is sinning C attempts to cast away from himself such a rebuke, let such a person tremble, fearing lest he himself one day be placed in a fearful state, considering just rebukes to be welts upon himself.
38. O sinner that I am, and whoever else is like me. Why, being seared in conscience, we who know that we are sinners, do we bristle at the cautery that comes from the Word? I praise those suffering from disease who are aware that they are sick and endure being burned for the sake of health. He who is visibly squint-eyed, if he hears that his eyes are good, judges that he is being mocked and reproaches the one who seems to be praising him. And so too with the one who is club-footed, if he were told that he walks straight. The same is also true regarding other bodily defects. But we, of whom I am the first, darkened by sins, when we hear that we are light and shining like the sun, why do we not realize D that we are being mocked? Yet we want to keep hearing it for praise. But if the squint-eyed and the lame, and whoever else suffers from a physical deformity, are moved to anger when they hear a mockery, and if someone thinks that for this reason the one being rebuked, being so enraged, is rightly indignant as if having suffered an injury, let him know that he does not think rightly. For it is not the same thing to be mocked and to be rebuked. For mockery plays, strictly speaking, while rebuke acts seriously and corrects.
39. We therefore do not even in a teaching manner rebuke...
A in a reproachful way, nor out of insolence, but for the correction of a fault and the raising up of a fall, whether we are caught in mockery or we are rebuking. But just as those who lead back those who have turned aside from the straight path unto it, and who teach them about their wandering, and who point out the most purposeful way of standing fast, do not attack them, nor treat them with contempt, nor shower them with abuse; so too those who rebuke for the sake of exhortation do not perform any hurtful act, but rather accomplish a work pleasing to God, placing those who have strayed from them onto the path of right laws and the straightness of the canons.
40. To what end for me are these things? So that we all ought to rebuke one another, and be rebuked by one another spiritually and fraternally, and thus not walk as blind men in this life, but diligently fulfill that journey which is according to God, and thus become wise, according to the saying: “The Lord gives sight to the blind” 17; who, surely, as if dwelling in darkness in this life, are rightly guided by God, and complete their journey toward the splendid lamp of lights, whose excellence are the wicks, that is, the teachings of spiritual rebukes.
41. Furthermore, I call upon the citizens who are with me to act with manly nobility, and I introduce the reflection that those ignorant and untimely threats, this untimely gnashing of teeth, these vain heats of the tongue, should be dismissed, keeping in mind the proverb that “it is for men to act, but for women to speak.”
42. I, therefore, have been withered away, being so frequently struck by thunderbolts of threats, and these the greatest ones against me, my brothers. O you, one, two, three, or more, who are overly fervent in anger, but cold towards charity, and perhaps dead towards love, let me live for the short time that I am to live, or take me from life more quickly. Cease lying in wait for my heel, knowing that it is a primary matter in causing destruction to cling to the heart, to tear the viscera, and to lick the blood. Consider that it is already sixteen years that you have been sharpening your teeth against us. How long will you endure such labors? Behold, after the greatest judge, I mean the heavenly one, the greatest among those upon the earth is to be brought into his cause—that wicked high priest who flays you, who harms, who does injury, who robs, who does every sort of evil. And he will remove the great stone of stumbling, and you will thus walk uprightly. Let there be some grace from you also, so that through you, from the land of the Romans, Eustathius—the author of all evils—may be blotted out. Denounce me, the hidden evil; reveal me, the destruction not manifest to all. You will find favor with God and men by removing from this holy place him whom you judge to be cursed. I do not say these things to shame you all, brothers. For I know perfectly well that, just as there are countless enemies, so there are others who love God, who love the Church, who love the high priests—in a word, those who in God love their brothers;
A whom I also beseech to pray for this city for better things, so that not even here may our affairs be afflicted by a very few evil men. God, most holy King, and divine King, look upon us and strengthen us when we are shaken, so that we may stand in safety, appearing, or else, having fallen, may we lie in a state from which there is no rising. For we desire one of two things: either to live well or to die well, just as we also are men, both subject to feelings and afflicted by circumstances. Having said these things—to which no one could say that a dense instruction, for the sake of which we were usefully gathered here, was not woven in—I shall be silent henceforth, until I may learn from you decisively into which of the proposed categories you might place us: perhaps as useful, as some wise man said, or perhaps as useless. Then, having heard, we shall speak, whether sparingly or more freely. B
43. In the meantime, however, I proclaim to you as is customary that you prepare yourselves for the approaching sanctification of the fast, in those ways in which I, your flatterer, have proposed to you. For I have nothing better or more perfect to tell you than these. Let the seasoning of the fast that pleases God be for you not only stinting of food and firm temperance, which are easy for most, but also, and especially, mercy toward the poor practiced according to one's strength; for the all-merciful God will not reject even this, He who places the greatness of alms not only in the quantity, but also in the little that corresponds to one's powers, and even in the very least of all, if this very thing be given cheerfully and with discernment. C But what is reckoned as useful salt in these things, let not even that be missing.
44. That thing is love, a good that is also easily obtained, if we but wish to look up and touch, yet difficult to obtain if we close our eyes and search; concerning which, although we have poured out countless words, I do not know if we have moistened souls dry of affection, and opened them to fruitfulness. If this is missing, we shall labor in vain, even while praying, and fasting, and kneeling, and keeping watch, and offering mercy, and shedding tears; for it is impossible that God, who is charity itself, should accept anything from those who despise charity and thus contemptuously reject help from Him. They are wicked who do not have charity; but the protector of kind affection does not follow the wicked. They who do not love are unjust; but upon the unjust the Sun of justice does not shine. Nothing good is found in those who do not have charity; but God is the author of all good things. D There is, therefore, no fellowship for such people with God. Charity is a helper, it succors, it assists in the struggle, it works zealously. One who has charity labors wholeheartedly for the sake of the beloved and lays down his own soul for them; he suffers all things, he does all things, he sustains all things.
45. What would one gain while living, or what use is he in life? Look at the first and only and greatest example of those who are now, the almighty Lord, who, loving the world, as if he himself were appointed a god after the supercelestial One, having the essence as if for himself,
A assigns labors for our sake, and judges he was born for this, that he might labor for the world, and that labors should not be obstacles to him throughout life, neither by day, nor by night, nor in winter, when it even freezes the very moisture in living limbs, nor in scorching summer; so that it is difficult to see him spending leisure from the actions done for our sake, I do not say for resting, but not even for a little breathing. Behold, for even now winter was shutting us into our houses, driving us as if into the recesses of dens, and each of us, as if standing under Tartarus, was living in the cold, and we were troubled by numbness; and we had an aversion even to protruding into the air, which is, so to speak, domestic, which surrounds the courtyards; and we were inventing pleasant coverings for our feet, and luxurious greaves, and garments heavy with wool. Many, indeed, were nursing a sweet fire, by which the wintry cold was being cast out from the human body; but he who was softer, in order to bear such pressures, would find a bath-house as a rival to the sharp air surrounding him outside. And by such methods we were repelling the severity of the air. But the master, accustomed now from long since, and from small, after his infant swaddling clothes, to become familiar with the horrors of such conditions, and, as someone wittily said, having long ago known that his forehead in its entirety belonged to the training for endurance in bearing such injuries of the winds, when the time of constancy arrives, equipped or fortified with nothing, except the B heat for any work for God, and the zeal with which he was burning for him, so that he was inflamed even against the injustice of his enemies; deeming as nothing the threats and blows such as the winter raised to the highest degree, he runs most ardently; and he rushes into the midst of enemies of an alien mind and alien tongue, and proceeds successfully to extraordinary deeds, for which recently the gospels were read in church, and they themselves are a demonstration of the charity flowing from there; through which he also takes us as participants in such celebrations—he who not only turns the enemies into perpetual flight and overturns whatever is proper to them for battle, but has also rendered their land desolate of inhabitants, and has subjected them to us in servitude, of which they are truly worthy and bear the name for it.
46. Such is the imperial love towards us, such creates C zeal for us—and for those D who look to us—in the master; thus he, both teaching the best things by words, of which charity is the head, seals his teaching also with deeds, setting himself forth as an archetype of virtue in all things. Him let us also imitate here, as much as possible, since he, fashioned as an image of all good, proposing to himself the greatest, our Savior, for imitation, and expressing in his mind the gratuitous death of that one for our sake, delivers himself over to death for us. Therefore, he would indeed rejoice entirely, learning that we also are loving toward each other in what is good, since our teacher and monarch, who is knowledgeable in every good thing, also teaches us...
It is typical of a generous teacher to rejoice in those things in which his disciples excel. On the contrary, however, he would perhaps be afflicted if he himself incurred the dangers of war for our sake, which bring deaths along with them, while we rise up against one another in fighting, and thus become killers of men for no good reason. A
47. Let us, in addition to these things, also reflect upon the culmination of the proposed stadium of fasting, I mean the world-saving Pascha, the Lord’s resurrection—our own resurrection from many falls, as it were—as well as the most manifest seal of the common and final and fearful day. Let us contemplate with a yearning mind this desirable day of the Lord, upon which we have a timely end in view: that of receiving this very King of all and Savior hospitably into our soul, having, that is, cleansed ourselves beforehand and swept clean in each person the house of the mind of all refuse. B
48. Let us also consider in another way, as we have said elsewhere, how the great Prince, the King of all, God, might dwell within us together with his own companions, if your houses are so filled with vile substances and vessels that no dwelling-place is granted to him. But especially let us further consider this: if we have indeed cast out all foreign matter from the spiritual house, with which we had dishonorably adorned ourselves, and have made ourselves pure and purged, but have allowed just one seat to remain within for the adversary of the just, right, unbought, and unfeigned love—namely, enmity—how could we receive Love himself, the Lord, into our house? I think it is impossible. C
49. Let us therefore first drive out from among us the enemy of such a King, I mean irrational hatred, and also his army: the traps, the slanders, the dissimulation in matters where it is not fitting, the crooked character, the multi-curved windings, the evil-tongued lie, the hypocrisy in friendship, the leonine seizures, the aquiline clamors against those to whom we do injury, and in addition to these things, the fearful thunderings and lethal lightning-bolts hurled against humble brothers, and all the other things through which hatred, the adversary of the love that is according to God, marshals its troops. Once this many-headed plague has been removed from us, every beneficial thing will enter in its place. Wicked hatred is a cloud, standing before the sun of righteousness and not allowing it to shine upon us. It is a squall, or rather, to speak more accurately, a most violent typhoon, churning our sea from the depths and taking away from us the divine tranquility, our peaceful way of life, and our secure state. It is roughness, destroying every smooth and straight path by which we advance successfully toward God. It is a dark prison, shutting up [the soul] so that no one could glory, and not only blocking off and not allowing those whom it has taken inside to live humanly, but even depriving those whom it encloses of light. D
50. Why say much more in a parabolic and enigmatic way? Wicked hatred is a work of the demon, from which entirely
those who belong to God must abstain. A But I speak of unregulated hatred, distinguishing it from that other which is even reckoned to David for glory. For he hates those whom it was not fitting to love; and these are those who occupy themselves with words of hatred and wage war without cause. Nor does he hide such a mind of his, but even chants the thought, calling it "perfect hatred" to hate those whom he also claimed were become enemies to him. Now, such Davidic hatred would be that which duly pours into the soul within the house, and appears irreproachably on the outside. For when that which is in us is completed, composed of the manifest and the mentally hidden, the Psalmist’s "perfect hatred" would be well interpreted as that which remains within and goes forth into outward things, B and growing so much through both, it stirs up hatred befitting those above—God—as also David, and Elijah, and Phinehas, and the great Moses, and the rest of the zealots, the enemies against the wicked. But let us abstain from another kind of hatred in offenses against one another, if we are Christians, reserving it against the disciples and fighters of the wicked serpent, and against that one himself, who, keeping up his enmity against the human race, would deservedly have it rebounding back upon himself from there.
51. May God firmly establish this hatred against the author of malice and the perpetual enemy within us, and strengthen us to always overcome that partition of separation, which, by overthrowing it, we shall enter into the beloved dwelling, C from which the wicked one ever wishes and strives to keep us away. This, however, is a beloved dwelling—the most beloved of all, as one might say—located in paradise, because we are with God, and in God, and beside God, by the grace of the all-ruling all-holy Trinity, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.
OF THE SAME: ORATION IV FOR HOLY LENT
Introductory Oration of the same for Holy Lent.
A 1. I do not find it easy to see, brethren, how I am to adapt my words for you today. For the reason for our present assembly is threefold, and I cannot easily give guarantees that I shall be sufficient for all three, as I myself desire and as the gravity of the matter demands. For it is evident that you have come not only for the sake of the prayer B for which this gathering has been accustomed to assemble from of old, that you might run the spiritual stadium like athletes and, having reached the starting line, might possess not only what is customary but, if it be possible, might even go beyond the set marks and outstrip one another in contests that are in the highest degree pleasing to God; since the divine word, saying, “In labors more abundantly” C (II Cor. XI, 23), teaches us, not that every excess is good, but only that which is free from sin and from reproach. Therefore, the assembly of this day exists not for prayer alone, as has been said, but also for the teaching which the most divine Fathers have handed down to us through both written laws and deeds.
2. The third reason for our meeting—which the nature of the times has brought forth—is consolation, a word to soothe the soul; for, as I think, you yourselves require this, if it is permitted for me to make a conjecture from my own situation to yours. For I myself, in these calamities, desire a remedy of consolation and to find a way by which, with God granting it, our healing may become easier for us and not lead to an intolerable sorrow. But why do I say that the third is the only one I need, when I should have had to confess that I have need of all three, and that my soul clamors for their attainment? For I myself implore your prayers even more than before, and the strengthening teaching, that I might not decline from the ways of the Lord; yet I do not steady my steps, because I do not limp with one foot only, but I am deflected at both knees, that is, both in words and in deeds. Then, I seek consolation for the same reasons for which you yourselves seem to be imploring the Comforter. Thus, you yourselves know how you are implicated in my affairs; but God, who has already inspected the whole matter, has long since led you to the three good things which are the objects of my prayers.
3. As for me, as I said before, I am not entirely well-provided D with what I have, for my wealth has departed, and I no longer have my former state, neither do I...
nor the disposition whereby I might glory in speaking toward my goal. Indeed, even my mental state is changed from what it was previously, and my expression of what is spoken is now something new and is not capable of being expanded into fullness. And this affliction has its reason. For when a flowing spring is blocked, it follows that the outflow must also cease; and in another way, when the source that generates becomes exhausted, it is not possible for the things generated to flourish. And yet, setting this forth in advance, I promise to offer a prayer that is very necessary, and not at all discursive, because listeners do not seek out such things for great expansion. For even a few words are sufficient to satisfy the desire of the one praying and the one receiving the prayer, and it would never be appropriate for prayer in such circumstances to be excessively business-like.
6. But as for matters pertaining to prayer, I have already summarized them in brief; the doctrine followeth, and it too is threefold. Yet in each B point, there are the same difficulties. First, indeed, the penury of words vexes me—I who from the cradle have been trained otherwise—and then, that from ancient times the worship and doctrine of sacred things has grown old along with us. Therefore, many, I believe, have handled such good matter, exhorting toward fasting, just as cargo ships, laden with many goods, have crossed the sea. They say that the newest song is very pleasing to men; but when a song has been sung again and again, if the field of the mind is entirely furrowed, I fear to set to work. The listeners anticipate the eloquent speaker and cause him to blush, while their ears wander. For by nature we are so constituted that for the most part we close our ears to familiar things, C and we withdraw from the church in which matters well-known to us are set forth, saying: "We know all these things, and we do not wish to be wearied by such discourses." What follows from this? The orator labors in vain to charm his listeners; for he speaks as a resounding cymbal. This is for me the second reason why I dread to speak.
5. But the third, and a greater and more violent cause, consists in the law and discourse of the consolatory sort. For how could I console others, I who am sorrowful in my soul even to the point of death? How shall I tune my voice to the sweet measures of consolation, I who, because of my groaning, cannot utter words? How shall I, who am myself afflicted, bring a remedy for the sorrows of others? Shall I not deservedly hear that saying: "Physician, heal thyself?" This is the third cause for me. Therefore, D as if constricted by this threefold cord, I am reduced to silence; yet I do not yield: for having pondered many things in my retirement, I hasten to this assembly. I pursue the matters cited with the greatest reverence, as befits an aging father; but compelled by necessity, I measure the three proposed chapters, as far as it may be profitable: for verbosity and the resonance of words in this place avail nothing. I will arrange the subjects themselves by an easy and expeditious path, and thus I will proceed to the end of the meeting; I will take my beginning, indeed, from the nature of things.
ON S. QUADRAGESIMA ORATION IV
A 6. God, as He is before the ages and above all ages, in that He made the ages, is to be spoken of as existing without beginning before the beginning, to be conceived of with a right mind, to be praised with a pure heart and mouth; though He cannot be adequately comprehended by the intellect. He Himself was always as He is, and shall be, and He had no need of any of us, nor will He have. For if He had had any need, He would have fashioned us closer to Him, not before the ages, but with the ages; surely He would not have made us in the last age, but many ages before. His own substance suffices for Him; He possesses within Himself an infinite and inexhaustible treasure; He lacks nothing that befits the divine goodness, and He abounds in all riches. Later, He assumed our form, not for His own sake, but for us, that He might in some way fill us with His divinity, having joined us by adoption to Him who is God by nature.
7. While the mother earth was drawing down to herself men who were tending too sluggishly toward heaven, God set before us guardians, namely, the choirs of incorporeal angels, so that those secondary luminaries might illuminate the way of salvation and by their service increase the divine brightness. A living fire has been placed within us which by its nature can be kindled and inflamed for the illumination of the world, which can make us divine victims and sacrificers, and direct us like incense in honor of God.
B 8. But the opposing spirit desires to crush this fire; now he blows from opposite directions so as to scatter the sparks of the divine flame, now he does not allow it to be ignited; he extinguishes this burning and illuminating fire, for he breathes vehemently from the place where chaos and tartar are, against the higher world, where there is deep darkness and the rigor of cold. But the Splendor of the Father of lights, the Sun of righteousness, as soon as He appeared on earth and sent forth His rays, immediately threw into confusion the author of our unhappiness; just as He had previously expelled Lucifer, depriving him of both his name and his power, so He drove the violent spirit so far away C from us rational beings that the unclean one could not invade us, nor even pass into the swine for their destruction without permission.
9. Where there was voluntary depravity, which we are masters of, just as He did to the wicked Satan of old, so He did not let go of us even after our salvation was recovered; he pushed us toward evil works, by which the King of the kingdom, God, is angered; then, as many of us as were not entirely bereft of mind, lifting our eyes to that most high mountain whence our salvation would come, called upon the Leader from the highest stronghold as a helper against the earthly and abject enemy. He, having come with other celestial auxiliaries, handed over the sacred Books, which we, using as strong shields, can defend ourselves with against the arrows of the enemy. D For He inscribed His name upon them, which could be perceived by the adversaries, to strike fear into them, and added besides the divine commandments; when these were proclaimed, the perfidious race, like wicked servants, and the evil demons, were accustomed to flee. They are
the teachings of A the apostles and other heralds, given by divine inspiration; when these are sounded forth, the soldiers of God take courage, leap upon the demons, strike them, and cast them down, using not only the commandments themselves as shields but as every form of weapon.
10. If, therefore, things are so (and they could not be otherwise), I command you, soldiers of God, to run to such a breastplate and to collect the suitable weapons from the divine Scriptures, which are set before you for reading, which you possess, which you have tested for knowledge, and by which you have many times overcome the enemies who hate mankind. And thus I free myself from saying more. For those very divine syllables will teach you and will assist in every work by which you are guided toward the spiritual stadium set before you.
11. And so, I send you to the great military commanders, whose tactics are according to the Spirit, whose divine strategic methods and trumpets cast down the walls which the architects of wickedness built up through us—or rather, through the cooperation of the teacher of malice, brought to nothing. But if you do not lack these, yet in the present crisis of affairs, grasp other armor. Come to us as smiths of arms, and we shall impart to you what you need for this struggle. Indeed, I refuse nothing; rather, as much as I can, I will advise you not to gird yourselves with old-fashioned apparatus. For where a linen corslet replaces a shield, and instead of a formidable sword one girds oneself with a framea, they will certainly be C distant by an immense amount from cataphracted soldiers. The armor, therefore, that I am calling for will be held as spider webs by those who know of austere arms that serve for security. And behold, I myself exhort you to the battle, I who have learned military affairs thoroughly, although I am an old man as regards the vigor of the body, and have lost the sharpness of my intellect (if I had any originally); I certainly advise that before every war, you proceed to offer prayers appropriate to the matter.
12. Let us all here, then, be in fear, D as unless God assists us in every serious work, it is impossible to succeed. Most serious of all, and indeed most pleasing to God, is the struggle now set before us, which is fasting, for which the present discourse has now been established for the high priests throughout the earth. Let us therefore pray that the supreme distributor of prizes may stand on our side in these struggles; he who will not deny the well-deserved reward to us when we have struggled well; and when by some fated chance we have fallen from our purpose, he will not deprive us of the gifts of victory, nor will he allow us to fall with disgrace. And it is not in vain that I added "by some fated chance." For it is not a question here of bodily exercise or the weight of flesh with which those who struggle theoretically are surrounded, being as they are men of flesh, and perhaps falling due to the weight of their body.
A Yet a skillful art is required, one which spiritually regulates and leads us to strength, through which, in most cases and without exertion, by art and divine wisdom we cast down the one who thinks lofty thoughts against us, the one who is very robust, yet otherwise most weak. On the one hand, if we grow slack and become flaccid, we fall; but on the other hand, if we are vigilant and each of us fires ourselves up into a combative courage, we cast down the enemy. There is no need for any of us to be taught such athletic art; for we have all been taught sufficiently, we have been thoroughly tested, we know exactly, and each of us is able to be a trainer, an autonomous general, a self-appointed helmsman, a natural teacher, a guide from our own hearth, and a self-taught interpreter.
13. B Since it is the custom, during every Great Fast, just as in every war, for an assembly and instruction on it to take place (for it is a kind of war, and a very deliberate one at that, the struggle now set before us alongside the leader of the dark ranks), and since this holy gathering has been assembled—and it is not possible not to offer what is appropriate, to the extent of our strength—we necessarily devise for you, before all else, as the rule of instruction desires to regulate, that you take to mind the ends of the fast into which we are now being led. For this having been discovered (and its door is entirely manifest, and there is no need to track it for long), we shall not speak at length, nor shall you labor, but you will quickly grasp what is desired. To say the same thing: you will accomplish the divine will; or to put it most solemnly, you will draw near to God Himself, and as you vie with one another in the time of the C most venerable Resurrection, you will meet Him and address Him, and you will hear the "Rejoice," and all the other gifts relating to the Resurrection of God, and the discourse to those who love Him, and to those who love His discipleship and have considered it desirable to be joined to Him.
14. D Now the purpose of the fast, into which we are just now embarking, does not consist in that which most people do: muzzling the lips so that the contents of the storehouse might not quickly become empty, nor avoiding the grinding of necessary food by the mills of the teeth, lest life itself be diminished. For to those who are trained to fast in such a way, the matter is a business transaction and a discovery of profit. And such people, if it so happens, obtain health, and they do not even wear down their teeth; but for the most part, their outer bag is full as they carry the natural-given bellows empty. There is no virtue in such people. Therefore, there is no proclamation from us now for such a fast—one that is both wicked and causes emaciation to no purpose—but we proclaim instead a fast that includes food, luxury, and satiety, the most novel thing of all. For I urge you, throughout the entire period of fasting, to eat and drink—and even more than before, if possible, even to the point of being full—but also to hasten to store up, if you are able, so that we may not seem to be doing anything new, nor that we may be inclined toward fasting just now, as if the slave body
A should be mistreated. But since such a command also entails labor (for he who eats and drinks much and makes money also toils), I am here contriving for you a "laborless" way.
15. The matter, however, stands thus: throughout life, load-bearing animals have been devised, as have people, some as servile stock, others as those who toil for a wage, through whom masters lead a life without labor. Something of this sort I suggest that you also do. It is to hire for yourselves the poor and needy for such a task: those who bear the burdens that are salvation for us, the laborers of God, those who for a very small wage perform tasks worth everything, those who appear to us in the likeness of God—those whose good God claims as His own, those taught to carry such burdens, those who bring relief if we, being weary and heavy-laden, draw near to them. Let us entrust our own matters to them; let us commit to them those things of ours which, after careful consideration, we determine to be superfluous. For truly I tell you, when they are clothed, we ourselves neither labor under excess, nor do we shiver. For God warms us, kindling for the wicked the consuming fire—to whom also the eternal fire roars—while to the good He is warmth itself, since the Sun of Justice also philosophizes [on this]. When they eat what is provided by us, we ourselves are satisfied, not only because it is not right for us to expect to live by bread alone, but because, paradoxically, the greatest Provider of sustenance makes up for what is lacking in a way we might not understand; just as, conversely, He assigns to the uncharitable the ravenous hunger which a certain Erysichthon or Harpocrates or another person similarly renowned might suffer, or the *seleucis*, the most gluttonous among birds, to which anyone who eats alone to the point of satiety must be compared. Moreover, when our poor brothers are gorged with drink, we have a remedy for thirst, and this not only according to the body—as God provides a manifold rain upon us and refreshes us, so that we are not scorched by the heat, nor is a drop of cooling water required when disease invites it, nor are we exhausted by sweating and thus expelling the internal humor from within so as to need an external influx like an antidote—but also otherwise, like the famous Samaritan woman, we shall experience our soul bedewed by divine water, without which even those who cross the salt sea of life are thirsting.
16. C And so, while we provide the poor with clothing and access to food of both kinds, in serving whom we justly labor, we do not deprive ourselves of the necessities of life, as many think, who look only toward unreasoning sensation. But here is the most marvelous thing: the good from that source flows back to us, returning not in a way that, by counterbalance, empties them while filling us, but flowing through us to them and back again through them to us, and the useful thing surges back and forth. And thus, by way of recompense, we indeed feed, give drink to, and clothe them with things that are small and of little account and appear little in bodily stature; but those things are exchanged for us, and...
added to the heap A many times over, because of the Master of the house who guarantees them, who writes down the mercy shown to a needy beggar as a loan to Himself. They add to those things that are visible, things that are perceived by the mind. Nay, moreover, these same people cause treasures for us to be multiplied, whenever we lavish on them even a small coin or other brass obol. For we are made wealthy by the all-wealthy God, when we provide even such a thing to our brothers. For He is a Father, and the highest of all fathers, and He does not endure that we should be impoverished for our brothers' sake, nor that our own poverty should be remedied by theirs; but by giving something, we receive back more. Indeed, we are found faithful over a few things; we are appointed over many; and B at the same time, better things flow in, even a ten-thousand-fold increase.
17. And behold, I have devised for you a fast and a want, which is a cause of luxury and wealth, so that not only might there be said to be luxurious Sabbaths, but also this luxurious fast: a wasting away that makes fat, an emptying that fills, a want that creates wealth.
18. And that we may also approach these same things in another way, such a fast appears, to those who view it simply, to be a single good, and thus easily apprehended or easily bounded. But the truth of the matter is otherwise. For upon this divinely-planted root and from this noble stem, ten thousand zealous C branches spring up, offering fruits of all the virtues, and perfecting them for spiritual enjoyment. Straightway, the man who fasts thus appears to have practiced love before all other things, and is depicted as a lover of brothers (for being such, he would not be merciful); but before this, he is viewed as a lover of God. For he assigns the things of God to God’s own, or, to speak accurately, to God Himself, who has declared: "Whatever you do to one of these least brothers and servants, it is done to Him." D For we, who are merely temporary masters, do not deem our slaves worthy of possessing their own property, but appoint that the things which are theirs should be ascribed to ourselves, even if they have ten thousand things. But the greatest Master, God, does not justly claim this from Himself, and not for His own sake—He to whom the earth belongs and all the fullness thereof—but for our sake, so that being faithful and entrusting to Him both ourselves and everything that is ours, we may be loved as those who are grateful and hold faith, and are worthy of the Master, and may become His adopted sons and gods.
19. Charity, therefore, has grown up with such a fast, which charity we have often put on stage, adorning it with a more stately procession and angelic brilliance, and furthermore, in imitation, a divine one. For he who, being in the flesh, fasts by casting off the superfluous things, and those of which there is no profit at all, decides to be carried above the earth; and he reckons that nothing that attaches to it belongs to him, but, leaving all things below, he reaches for the things above. And if this is the case, he altogether emerges as a contemplative instead of a bodily man, as, in place of
A action, he transfers his life to the contemplation itself, through which, as the very etymology of the name signifies, God is seen and apprehended. For what else would a sensible man do, once he has fully prepared himself to be outside the turmoil of life and not to labor over things unworthy of consideration, unless he ends up finding some better work and discerning the choice of what is superior? He will not sit with folded hands like a statue, or, reclining, resume an idleness befitting brute beasts, proclaiming himself a man while in reality being a deceiver of men; rather, in accordance with the sequence of reason, he will entrust the management of his affairs B to such agents (I mean the poor, our brothers and fellow-servants here), who themselves will crawl and toil and live, and in this way provide for him the things that are better, while he himself occupies himself with something more suited to him, as a man already renowned and great, and not fitting to be involved in lowly affairs. And he will imitate ambitious craftsmen—some of whom one might see as base—who, having gained significant wealth from their trades and having, as it were, been enlightened by what provided them with great riches, subsequently become haughty and, having held the wealth-producing art that fostered them in contempt as something useless, and having cast away the gain derived from it, and—as it is said—having despised the sun, hang their formerly useful tools in smoke and dust, or rather in darkness; but having dyed their own mud not with a simple color, but with a golden one, and having put a heavenly beauty upon their head, and decorating what is above it in another way, they renounce their former craft and embrace a royal lifestyle. For while they begin to pursue a purer life, they have begun to be kings.
20. Since, therefore, the high-minded faster follows the example of others, and has once and for all determined in himself not to be troubled by many and vulgar activities, but to be intent upon one, the chief one, which the King of all, God, loves, he will renounce every other solemn way of life as far as is practicable, choosing to be only of those things whose performance will not cause him to lose the good portion he has chosen. For it is impossible that a man—even if he has reached the highest pinnacle of virtue—should, especially in these times, cease to be at least to some extent a participant in the turmoils of life. For we are, as can easily be seen, stuck to the earth, not only creeping like reptiles, nor C like underground and blind moles digging through the soil, but even refusing to live and walk upright upon the earth, and not even striving to say farewell to the art by whose help we work at nefariously shameful things and value earthly things above heavenly ones.
21. Wherefore he who, as was said above, embraces the part of an imitator, and acts as those who, in place of their crafts, pursue royal manners and are eager to be regarded as kings because they prefer royal authority to the humble condition of an artisan, so that—which is not surprising—he will be in the hands of God while he lives, in which state he also desires
to be fashioned as a man. To put it more clearly: if each of us cleanses himself of all those things which, it is unnecessary to say, do not contribute to nature, nor yet constitute our formation and human composition, or perfect it, or preserve it.
B 22. For instance, I say: sight is given to you, O man, as a pair. See, therefore, without hindrance; but do not look askance, and frequently close your eyes. For does not nature itself command this, by prescribing that the eyelids move up and down frequently, not only so that the most delicate surface of the pupil and the surrounding area may be moistened and remain from becoming dry, and that the sight may not be harmed by being kept open too rigidly; but also for a symbolic mystery, that the eye ought not always to gape wide open—as is said of the lion and the hare, and whatever else is accused of a fixed, unblinking glare—but C at times to be closed voluntarily like a gate, lest some thieving thought, entering in more like a brigand, not merely steal away, but also plunder the treasure of the soul, which is from God; which indeed enters in abundantly when we, the masters of the house of the body, live prudently, the architect of which house is celebrated by the philosophers as God? And we can see, as God desires, when we look upon things that are level—or the same as saying, toward rectitude—which those who are, as one might sharply say, squint-eyed, do not possess. We speak of rectitude as the unswerving progress of every bodily part perceived according to the spirit, and that which shoots straight toward the goal; D a quality which not only the eye is praised for having, nor the foot, which is praised when it stands in the rectitude that is according to God, nor the heart, which the Lord makes good in those who possess it, according to the holy Psalmist, but above all and in all things the mind, which presides over such things and presents a straightforward character, which neither looks aside while squinting, nor indeed in any other manner by which one might be said to look askance.
23. For one must regard these things with a divine discrimination, and at the same time, the one who looks in this way must be free from looking upon that which is manifold. But if any visible things are set before someone, upon which it is not right for the prudent man to look, he should, by looking down at that moment, turn away his sight, lest through the eyes he also grasp the entire man—as if with an evil rope—and drag him down from his height according to God, and lower him toward the abyss of perdition; at that moment, such a person has closed his eyes, and returns from blindness to sight, and does not incur the rebuke of Holy Scripture, which formerly mocked the blind with derision. For one must contemplate things with an equal eye.
A And while seeing, he sees, and he shall by no means see any other than what the most holy Scripture mocked in those of old, who were considered to have insight. For he sees with that most opportune eye which is loved by Him who sees in secret and rewards openly; but with the other eye, in one place he [truly] sees, and in another he does not see at all.
24. It is, however, a mystery of nature, B noted not by all, but only by those who have learned to search out its depths. The matter is as follows. The visual ray, spread out into breadth, and coursing far and wide, meets with many, indeed with a multitude of things in its path. Yet it does not see them with a single glance, nor does it claim their full knowledge for itself; but where it continuously insists upon one certain thing, whither it aims, it will reach it; then the keen observer will perceive the difference between the act of looking and the act of glimpsing. For where the cone of visual spirit plants its sharp point, it touches the object and takes hold of it for the sake of vision, and accurately distinguishes and successfully judges it by the critical sight of the mind. But that which does not touch with such precision, so as to cut it small and send it inward for judgment, if [the visual ray] does not abandon that [initial focus] and shift, having been carried off and cast upon another body, it will see it only as something else. And this is clearly true in all such cases. Therefore, the discerning faster who distinguishes what he sees, so that that which is looked upon arouses in him not only admiration but also pleasure, must beware lest he dwell upon it too much, and press too hard upon what he sees, in order to impress it more upon his soul; but by contracting the sense of vision, he will create a greater space for himself, and with eyes closed, he will affect his passion less by injuring it. Such a man, as we have already seen, will see more or less; for he will see as God prescribes, or he will not see, as the adversary [persuades].
25. Now, let us investigate another method C of proceeding. Let some arduous task, which pertains to the intellect or to the pure life, be proposed to the faster, which he may scan with pure eyes, as nature intends, and let him turn himself away from other spectacles; for from this, the eye is converted to that which it ought to heed. By this method, therefore, sight is duly composed and never sins; and this is the true way of contemplating natural things. Hence also, that we may withdraw the soul from other things, we shall similarly direct the sense of smell by attributing pleasant odors to the sweet-scented apostles of the heavenly Word, the preparation of which odors requires long study, which indeed we have done at another time. But the Creator, the kindly author who fashioned the ear, will also grant it rectitude as He wills, who wishes to expel everything that is harmful to the chastity of the ears, and who detests all the vain talk D by which the first-formed man was forced to leave Paradise, that is, his fatherland, as an exile. The same [God] will also order the sense of taste, lest it tend toward that which is not lawful, and so, being contaminated, [the man] becomes unworthy to declare the justice of God, having fallen into ruin through moist humors and the vices of the soul. Thus, he also who lives in exile scorns the condemnation which the devil, having received his name from this,
A has brought upon him. Divine chants, too, will sanctify it, proceeding from there and charming the hearers, and not least the soul of the one chanting itself, and joining in with the great David in that beautiful hymn. And good teaching, springing up from there, ends in a similar sanctification.
26
Furthermore, it is a beautiful work of the mouth, as is the blessing and the non-blasphemy arising from it. For to trace things back to the whole, the creator of every good instrument is good, as is the goal, even if a base depravity of souls renders them useless by misusing them as one ought not. Therefore, the organ of sight, and that of smell, and that which ministers to the hearing, and that which is intended for taste—which is also B ordained for speech—the one who made them is both wise and good, and they themselves were made very well for a good purpose. And so, whoever preserves them for a higher goal, toward which nature commanded them to be fashioned, neither censures nature, but honors the craftsman and maker; and he is deemed a good worker. But he who is not so disposed is made akin to the demon who contrived their misuse—which may no good Christian be, O benevolent Lord!27
And may this, then, be the object of our prayer to God, the giver of righteous prayers. But as the four senses—sight, smell, and indeed hearing and taste—are completed in their approach toward virtue, as has been set forth, by God, there shall also follow the correction of touch, that difficult matter within us, that which is hard to wrestle with, spread throughout the entire body, and C widely sown. Although to many it might seem to be limited to two fingers, the middle and the index, due to its precise measurement of the pulses—yet in truth, according to those who have most wisely investigated, it extends throughout the entire creation, as if implanted within it. Therefore, none of the aforementioned senses has escaped it, even if the mode of contact peculiar to each is observed in them—being intangible, yet still falling under a tactile affinity. And touch itself is another burdensome evil, unless one discerns its use by nature according to the law of God. The theory which we have previously set forth will assist us in the correctness of such discernment. For the acropolis within us by nature, strongly fortified as has been taught, will secure also the things beneath it, and will establish our affairs in the whole city of the God of hosts; and it will not permit the enemy demon to boast against it, or, to tell the truth, even to besiege it from anywhere outside, because he will not even be able to approach it or build towers against it.28
But this discourse of mine—yet let the following things wait for a short time D —has brought to memory the state and disposition presently within us. Do Thou, O God Most High, King of all, keep safe, as Thou Thyself knowest, our universal acropolis, the sovereign, and make it strong, so that no siege or boastful arrogance may approach us, lest we, most miserable ones, be utterly destroyed.29
And let this much be interposed for now.A My discourse, as the warmth in the soul has boiled over, is not out of season. But what I was saying—that concerning the "acropolis within us," which nature constructed as ordained, but God joined together and strengthened, and provided well for those things appointed above it, after the manner of a certain generalship and command, the rest will also be well-ordered. For when the eye sees straight and commands, touch also will surely obey in what it needs to handle. If the instrument of tasting rightfully judges and teaches us how the anointing of unguents is to be administered, taste itself will properly perform its function. The hearing sense, where it leads us as is fitting in matters of its own kind, brings this about so that the sense of touch makes fewer mistakes, and the judge, especially in performing its duty, will guard itself. Moreover, for taste, in those things that pertain to it, certain rules are prescribed, which it is not lawful to transgress audaciously; and behold, here too the lowest are mixed with the highest, and the most excellent work of God, the whole man, the prudent faster, sings in harmony with the divine psalter and satisfies both ears and mind when it is played by the craftsman. B
30. Since these things have been prepared for us thus in accordance with what we foreannounced, we must also regulate our instruction in another way, so that, I believe, the holy assembly among us will not be burdened. A serious undertaking is set before us from now until the end, to which the divine canon has ordained the days of fasting. By "serious" we mean that which is according to virtue, not at all that which is aimless. But every virtue is concerned with a mean, which the moral sage knows how to distinguish accurately; and this very thing is both the mean and is so called. We must therefore aim for this as much as possible, if we wish to excel in matters of virtue. And this good and manifold thing will be for us, because He who is the Mediator between God and men has made Himself a mean also for us in this. And we shall be enabled by it, as the word will straightway outline. Let us aim, brothers, at the divinity and the mean, according to which both the visible and the invisible are contemplated in us; and having considered, let us conceive an idea of the mean that is rational, and let us observe how some, having struggled to scale the mean that is human in our case, have forced themselves not to remain merely men, but to be completely deified and to be pressed upward to an angelic height and to become heavenly. But many others have brought man down to where he ought not to be, C and they did not desire to be even earth, but cast themselves down as if into Tartarus. Thus, therefore, having weighed the matter, let us embrace the mean in these things; and because we are not gifted with wings to fly, by which we might be able to be lifted into the high air, let us busy ourselves with being earthly creatures, just as nature itself commands.
31. The ox does not lie, that is, it does not act against what it is, nor does it impose upon the habits of the horse; the horse, moreover, does not violate that for which it has been brought into being. The sheep remains mild throughout its life. The goat follows its own accustomed way of grazing. Each of the others, there is no way that the natural principle D
A let us remain human also, and if we are not consoled by others simply, let us feel shame before the Creator, by whose hand we were fashioned, so that we might not offend God. For we were fashioned according to the image of God; let us not, then, disfigure the divine image despicably. We were placed in paradise from the beginning, then cast out; yet let us exert every effort to return there, for we bear this separation with difficulty. Whereas other creatures refuse to put on the features of humanity, let us place our human nature, with which we have been endowed, in a place of honor. We have God as the moderator of all; we know him who defected, I mean the devil. Let us not, therefore, also be rebellious, but let us stand on the side of God. Let us not stand with the heir of Tartarus, but let us follow him who leads us into heaven. Let us place before our eyes the place of intellectual bliss and the place of punishment; the former is proposed for upright men, the latter awaits sinners. Which is better, to fall from heaven or to ascend to it? This was the lot of the morning star, that one is ours, if we so wish. It is easier to stand with God than to fail from his holiness. For God bestows prosperity upon man through his love and makes him like himself, while someone adheres to the demon because God has abandoned him, when neither the hissings of the flesh restrain desire, nor do they tame the bit of the recalcitrant nature.
B 32. More than this, God extends his arms and receives us as if into a harbor. The demon opens his mouth as if to kiss, and devours—not as a dragon or lion, or as some Charybdis, but as Tartarus itself. God speaks and acts; the adversary makes promises and does not keep them. He who is good by nature cultivates truth; he who is wicked deals in deceit. Let the soul, which is of divine origin and not of the earth which tends downward, prevail in us. Let us abandon the body and embrace the parts of the soul. If not, the flesh will be subordinated to the life-giving soul, and not vice versa. Why do we pursue silt, neglecting the spiritual heat by which we are contained? Why do we covet the offscourings which are dispersed by a light wind? Why do we not strive to be men of God and of his desires, like the great Daniel? Why are we followers of riches that degrade us, that make us bloodthirsty, that render us brigands and C worthy of every evil?
33. Woe to us, because we make the house of God a den of thieves, where it was fitting for God to dwell and walk, but instead it is transformed into foul stables, filled with evil-smelling filth. Woe to us, because the most precious instrument in us, the tongue, serves not with golden words but with adulterated and brazen ones, so that we curse like a bell, or at least utter futilities—in a word, doing those things for which it would be better to be without a tongue altogether. Why do we render our tongues empty, and why do we cultivate those things that could bring splendor to our house? But D with such
people, this is impossible to utter entirely, so as to insist upon it. For the sense of smell, while perhaps not wholly unmanageable in other respects (for who among us is so lavish, and so soft and flowing in his way of life, as to bathe himself in perfumes and find a wicked misuse for them?)—yet there underlies it another kind of madness and perversion of nature, one occupied not with smelling, but with tracking and searching for footprints, by means of which, once we have found a person, we tear him apart like a wild beast. We also make such perverted use of our eyes that we presume to have a sharpness of vision like that of Lynceus, or that of the all-seeing one of proverb, whom ancient lore depicted as entirely covered with eyes. B And I am not speaking of the viewing of beauty or a curious scanning of others, but of that which casts an envious eye upon the affairs of others, and thus commits an injustice by depriving them. Someone cries out over a vineyard, another shouts over the theft of a house, another because his little field is being encroached upon; and there are many other such offenses of the eyes. And thus, we are made most sharp-sighted in the things that we desire; yet where right reason invites us to look, the will refers the visible object to hatred, or fear of punishment, or the cost of a pittance. But by overcoming our innate blindness (if one chooses to use that term), we acknowledge no small virtue, even if we look with squinting eyes. When we have occupied a place for the sake of exploration—whether a salutary one, if it be for friends, or a pernicious one, if for enemies—in the salutary case, indeed, we see what is good; but in the pernicious case, we do not behold things as God wills. So also, if we do not, for the sake of imitation, refer ourselves to the angels, seeing the face of the Father of lights perpetually—as we say with the Gospel—we become children worthy of darkness, where God does not turn His eyes upon us, because we do not reverence His word. For He said that He seeks to look upon such people, just as He does upon those who are meek and tranquil, and those who know how to observe: "Let him who thinks he stands take heed lest he fall."
34. And so these things stand thus. But if one must turn to the hearing, we do not even preserve it as is fitting; rather, we readily give up our ears to praises, and rattles, and melodic muses, and witticisms, and by now, perhaps, even to blasphemous words, and we set them before flatterers so that they might, if they wish, D pierce them with depraved discourses and broaden them for shameful hearing. We are fastidious about the word of the Lord, whence a famine presses upon us, accompanying the famine of hearing the divine words. By "word of the Lord," I mean not only that which is read in the holy Gospels and the apostolic writings—if indeed the Apostle Paul speaks as the Lord’s, as he himself declares, and those who are with him follow suit—but also that which is found in other divine heralds and teachers. For they are all the mouth of God, just as is the prophetic chorus. And therefore, the word from the mouths of such men is the word of the Lord; and not only that, but any speech similar to the Lord’s discourses, from whatever lips it may be uttered. Thus, that person, indocile to the word of the Lord, has stopped up his ears, and the evangelical sentence is rightly decreed against him too;
A and he comes to the same condemnation, of whatever sort the person is who is also dismissive of the most holy Gospels.
35. Let no haughty person, puffing himself up and disdaining to receive a necessary word from low-born lips, stand in my way. For every divine utterance which has proceeded out of a human mouth has sanctified that mouth; wherefore, as coming forth from a more divine spirit, it is holy, and renders the very air through which it passes worthy of honor; in the same way, the ears through which life enters [are also sanctified]. If, therefore, a soul lifted up into another state inhabits such a divine word, it has become full of itself and sanctified; but if it is not conformed in this way, it has indeed something to fear, lest it be placed among objects of abomination. B A beautiful object is a golden chalice, in which a priest mingles the precious blood. But if the salutary mystery were performed in a vessel of glass, or wood, or clay, is there any Christian who would reject that sacrifice? May no one, O Lord, do this! So also, a mouth that treats divine books and discourses with contempt will not readily prove its own nobility. Did not Balaam’s ass, endowed with a human voice, borrow speech from what it heard? Shall a man, then, who has used due speech, fulfill the function of an irrational brute? The speaking serpent is not to be listened to by the exiles of Eden; but a man, whoever he may be, should be heard when he speaks of the new inhabitants of Paradise.
36. I divide humanity into many groups, of which each one speaks of divine things; but he who C will not hear, let him not be heard, so that God also may not heed him. I set all holy men in a special place, intending to pass on to more lowly ones. Some slave is in distress, and in the midst of the torments of men, he invokes the mercy of God himself. Who is so hard-hearted as not to hear the wretched man or to deny him mercy? A laborious soul is in straits because a man is cheated of his wage and rejects the wretched suppliant, so that it might be said to him: "Look, friend, [take] your wages!" Wretched, therefore, is he who stops his ears to the word of God. For it is God’s word that forbids us to do injury to him who is deprived of his own. A boy is beaten, D but he is improved thereby; the blows are not grievous, and his mouth remembers God and begs for pardon. A master is, therefore, foolish who, when about to introduce vile discipline, drives a precious soul into exile. A certain orphan, deprived of his fortune, calls upon a guardian to offer up a prayer to God. A wicked son is, therefore, one who casts such a brother out of his sight, who, even if he has been deprived of his earthly father, has not, however, lost the Father of lights and of orphans. Advanced age, weakened by infirmities and already near to death, speaks of unbearable ills and bears the Ancient of Days upon its lips, and through Him attempts to provoke mercy. A mouth stripped of teeth resounds with divine hymns. Therefore, he who does not heed the soul fears neither God, nor death, nor does he earnestly hope for old age. For if the hope of old age were to shine upon him, [resembling the habits of…]
he would love that which is akin to his condition. And I think that even such a man might hear from somewhere, "May he not arrive at such an age," but rather be harvested prematurely. A Let us suppose someone is also drunk, having the foundations of his body's house shaken, and being unable to stand upright due to his brain, his feet, and his head, which are poorly off. Let whatever is hateful be removed from his mouth; let his tongue, polluted with filth, be cleansed; let the things seen be doubled and thus poorly retained. But let the mind of such a man be healthy, and let his wandering tongue utter necessary things in a faint voice, as we see no one doing. Whoever, therefore, makes little of what is heard, when he begins to recover and is not entirely drunk, becomes very haughty. B Regarding what is seen, let them be overlooked, and in this way let them be disregarded. But let the mind, nevertheless, be strong in such a person, and let his tongue, though stumbling, murmur the necessary things, just as we have seen many such people. At any rate, he who slights what is heard—I hesitate to say it—if indeed he has awakened to sobriety and is not drunk, has much arrogance.
37. But where shall I henceforth proceed further with arguments from lesser things, and not summarize the discourse? As if, indeed, one ought to lend one's ears to such persons, and even more so, above all, to those who are superior and better than these. Thus we know how to honor our greatest head, God, if we govern the senses within us toward a virtuous end, and toward that goal at which those who live according to God aim. C I am drawn by my discourse to divide man by race, and I distinguish broadly between the Greek, who is like us, and the barbarian. No one would refuse to hear and obey a speaker of the Greek language, where it is necessary. But the barbarian, even he, while speaking things not to be disregarded, is condemned by those who judge us. For, seeing that he is not understood by us when he speaks barbarically, he desists from his native speech, pointing his finger toward heaven, he commends us to the heavenly God, and thus he practices theology by intimating that the Most High listens to his prayers. If, therefore, we obey, we recover divine mercy; if we do not obey, we fall into the abyss of destruction.
38. If anyone here interrupts, complaining that the discourse has brought itself to Greek and barbarian as far as justly lamenting is concerned, let him complain through me, recalling that, just as we are fellow slaves, so too are we of the same race, born of one Father, the God who made us, and one mother, I mean the earth, from which we were fashioned. D I will indeed admit his objection, warning only that we are talkative in discussing many other things, proposing doubtful questions, and questioning God Himself as to why He did this and not that; even if He Himself does not mock, nor sneer (for these are for others), but pities us who are immersed in vain things. Regarding these, I will advise as briefly as I can, so that we may not fight against God, and, meaning to correct God, presume that we are legislators, and, pulling wherever we wish, having become masters from the servants of the Lord, we domineer over authority itself.
A 39. Nor is it worthy of human wisdom to inquire for what reasons God has enriched some stranger, or brother, or neighbor, or another person living nearby with earthly goods, B filling their houses with delicious things that shine like the sun, making fields fertile with produce, filling barns, everywhere planting the seed of prosperity, adding zealous manservants and maidservants, and heaping upon them domestic animals and every kind of well-being, while me, being in no way inferior to him, He has diminished in everything and made emptier than a husk, deprived of all things?
40. C But let no one who raises such doubts accuse God of confusion. For perhaps, from the lowest places (for the Lord from above despises such discourse), thou shalt hear a voice: "Whence knowest thou, my good fellow, that thou art not unlike him whose wealth thou enviest? For it is not that thou art unworthy and he is very worthy, nay, he is worthy of more than he possesses." But know that since this consumes thy soul (for every comparison offends one who is humbled), thou art being weighed in the same balance as thy brother. D Even if we assume that thou art found to be of greater importance and worth, yet God, the great distributor of life who measures all things justly, has ordained that the brother should be rich, but thou, poor and miserable. Why then dost thou challenge the Lord and Father, and recount His creation? dost thou place Him in the position of a Lord? And how, being a servant, dost thou call the Lord to account? Yet thou callest Him Father. How then dost thou dare, for thy shamelessness, to despise His excommunication? Implore divine aid; do penance, expiate thy sins with thy prayers, especially those poured out to His saints, and where there is need, He will share wealth with thee and make thee truly blessed. If, however, while supplicating and doing what is thine to do according to thy strength, thou remainest in the same fortune, consider that on account of thy sins or something else, He does not wish thee to be a participant in wealth. Now, indeed, to have thy wish granted would profit thee nothing; but the time shall come when the meadow of life will bloom, and thou shalt be able to gather the most abundant fruit. Or dost thou not see trees full of fruits and fruit-bearing; others every year, some everywhere fruit-bearing, others everywhere sterile, shedding their leaves and suffering the baldness of their natural foliage? This is not empty or in vain, but according to the reason of nature. For when fruits are destined to be of use to men or to other creatures, full flowers and visually beautiful things appear, and leaves grow green toward the fruit; but if the fruit is gone, the leaves also fall to the ground. For they return, as it were, into the roots of the mother, and residing there, they gradually revive into the new spring when they run back as through channels, and act according to the peculiar gift of nature, as in the year that has passed. See, therefore, that thou too be not subjected to a similar law, and where the tree from which the flowers and fruit are visible, as leaves and whatever comes from a good tree, are born, it will profit thee nothing, and
ne, if you should ever wish to gather them, all things might elude you, because the time is not opportune. But look to this also, that you do not produce thistles on barren branches, or in briars and wild pear trees (for on account of this you indeed bear fruit, but not that which is due and which resists the grasping of hands). Does God not make man small, and diminish him who is not born to produce fruits, B or who indeed produces fruit, but wounds with stinging those who wish to touch them? Pour out prayers to God, and hope in him, and he himself will act. Fulfill his will, and he will favor you. Sprinkle your dry lip, burning with thirst, and spiritual and sensible manna will rain upon you from heaven. Do you not know the rod that flourished and germinated by the mere word of God’s servants, and raised six hundred men from death? Yet you, a plant once flourishing, now sick with depraved desires, which came from Paradise, are you unable to nurture, to amplify by grafting, and to render fruitful? Cease asking from God, and he himself will give to you of his own accord. You did not ask God that you might be conceived in your mother’s womb, and yet she conceived you. To come forth from the womb into the light, to be nourished, to proceed to where you now stand, was not of your will, and yet all these things happened, even while you were unwilling. Therefore, the rest also will be given to you, provided you do those things after which the rest will be added and will be established as on a firm foundation. We do not know what we are to return to the Lord, yet he has given to us, whose duty it is to refer all things to him as received from him. What, then, do you wish to ask from your creditor? The Lord gave a reward to you, his servant, to whom he owed nothing; do not, therefore, act impudently and weary him with your prayers, lest you lose what you possess and obtain the lot of the useless servant. The Father has designated us heirs; he is not, therefore, in the necessity that you wish to attribute to him. Great Job once possessed things; but he lost everything, nay, he lost even himself. For he flowed away, dissolved into pus, and yet he did not rashly accuse God, did not ask for the return of his goods, nor said that he had lost anything, but acknowledged in God the power both to give and to take away. C Therefore, because of his gratitude, he did not seek a greater happiness. But I am afraid lest God, wearied by your prayers, might give you, or rather restore to you, what you ought not to have desired. For since you gave to God that which was not equal, you must also recover that which you should not have wished for. Job, amidst dire torments, said nothing incongruous to God; you, however, having suffered nothing similar, blaspheme him. Therefore, you will receive from him what will be in no way pleasing to you, unless divine charity takes away the evil things from you. But if you murmur and complain because of your vexations, I ask you: about what lost thing are you complaining? You will surely say that you lack nothing that is suitable to human nature. All good things are at hand for you. You need not fear that you might fall into sickness. You are able to perform all human works, from that early age which creeps on the ground and hardly moves of its own accord. Look at yourself—clothed and established on firm columns, I mean your feet, walking about. Furthermore, you have everything that a man needs for walking and for other operations; whether you are regarded as a man or as a simple animal, you are rich. Why, therefore, [do you ask] the Lord D
most generous, the most glorious Master, and not allow him to be disposed in a kingly way, and to give as much as he wishes according to his own compassion? "Who are you to judge another man’s servant?"—someone might hear who presumes to give orders to another’s servant. How, then, do you yourself not fear that you might one day hear: "Whence have you appeared, that you demand an account from your Master?"
B 41. Come, let me summarize my argument for you, which seems to contradict itself but in reality arrives at the same point. Nothing of what is within us is equal, and yet again, nothing of what is within us is unequal. I wish to answer this spiritually. For just as God distributes duties to each individual according to their strength—taking away from some, while heaping good things upon others—so equity acts within us in a more divine manner, and each person hears: "Friend, you have what pertains to you." And thus, let him who has few things learn to possess them with the highest justice. For to say "equal" and "just" is the same thing, as it tends toward forming a fellowship with equity. Thus, all things are to everyone equal and unequal, and the account stands either according to the appearance for the unlearned who need to be taught something, or according to number, so that our affairs appear thus intermixed with equality and inequality, and so that we might call the adjustment of our life an equal inequality, or vice versa. C Remain, therefore, brother, in the state in which you have been placed, and knowing that you are a debtor to God, pray and hope. Do not blame the helmsman who skillfully steers our vessel, until we call at the port of life; nor envy your brother, his fellow-passenger, if the shipmaster has assigned him a more opportune place. For why should envy be practiced, when the accusation ascends all the way to the Lord? The brother has nothing of his own, nothing peculiar, except what God has bestowed upon him. While, therefore, you envy your brother, you have unknowingly blasphemed God and in a way waged war against him. How greatly, then, do you sin, by thus judging the censure of God and almost prescribing to him what he ought to do? Do you not see that you are blaspheming outright if you doubt whether the inhabitants of Olympus live without fear or with sorrow? D It behooves you, therefore, to discern those things which are yours, whether they be pleasant or bitter, and thus by weighing the causes, to bring consolation to yourself. Concerning those things which are occurring now, finally, it is not fitting for me to say more; for with God are judgments, the depth of which is incomprehensible.
B 42. However, this theory of consolation will be a discourse ready to hand, as we promised previously. In our own region, which is extensive, and among our fellow-tribesmen, some are steeped in luxury and wide prosperity, some are heavily burdened with grief, others are in an abyss, and others, though not yet to that degree, are nonetheless—for the most part—tossed about in the same, or by something approaching and imminent, or by a distance which it is not possible to observe steadily. Those who have become part of the abyss should weep; C but let those who are not yet [there], and who are not yet in the dregs and the depths, offer prayers for themselves and have others from elsewhere, as do those who are not at the surface, and those who tremble thus or so in their fear—let them, along with their prayers, also give thanks to the God who is always living and is the cause of our life.
B 43. And let this be held by us as a common, persistent reminder. But let us now examine with precision, as is proper, where those who are vexed by cares and solicitude and are altogether sad should be placed; for they are, God willing, separated from our society—for we have no account of dregs or of an abyss or of immersion. Yet we will never be without fear, although most think otherwise. It would be the same as if one were to transfer the sound of thunder from afar to the proximity of one’s ears. Why, therefore, do we deliver ourselves to excessive sorrow?
C 44. By saying this, I do not wish to abolish care and solicitude for the future time; rather, I only caution that we should not be excessively afflicted, but that we should observe a limit in this matter as well. For why should I uproot care in you, when I know that fear is for most a salutary thing? How can I affirm that sorrow will always be absent from those to whom a place of lamentation has been assigned, who do not know a life exempt from cares, to whom the earth brings forth thistles and foliage? By what reproach, therefore, shall we not be worthy if, in our sorrow, we forget the example of God? For there is no better teacher than sorrow. When one is burdened D with care, the memory of God returns. Is someone vexed? You will immediately hear him praying: "Lord, help," or "Lord, have mercy on me"; and already the saints of God are stirred by these cries. If, on the contrary, we are for some time without troubles, we cease to invoke God, and his saints and the hymns written in their honor are neglected; for the tongue then sings filth, provokes the wrath of God, and corrupts us who sing it.
45. Therefore, I do not teach you not to grieve (for that is impossible; and it is fitting to teach only what is possible), but to immerse yourselves in grief that is reasoned and directed only at what is necessary, and at the same time to be solicitous, to search for the remedy that might drive away cares, and with which a man who is afflicted might heal the fatal bite. This remedy, however,
A is God, the dispenser who heals every infirmity of the body. Let us therefore place all our hope in Him, and we shall be healed, and we shall rejoice at being delivered from every evil. For what else is there to do regarding things that are not within our power, or rather regarding those very things which do depend upon us? When we are in straits and in fear, we can approach whomsoever we wish in prayer, but it is not expedient to approach just anyone, but rather the most powerful. Now, this is the God of hosts; let us therefore implore the help of Him who has the power to bring just prayers and good hopes to fruition. God alone is strong; therefore He will accomplish it easily. Furthermore, the same God is also long-suffering; wherefore He diminishes our sins and grants us pardon, provided that our prayers proceed from the whole soul and whole mind and a pure mouth; for God does not wait until we have expressed our desires; for while you are still speaking, He is already present. For He wishes that he who prays should approach Him rationally and while doing good. Would a good king, yet one less beneficent, say: "Today I have not reigned, for I have not done any good"? But God, does He not always act beneficially, since that is His peculiar nature, B being goodness itself and the King of the universe? And so, accepting your prayers, He will turn them to your advantage in the time of danger and fear. Evil lingers: He will destroy it; it approaches: He will drive it away. But if it has already arrived, and is already clinging to the skin, yet with a divine breath He has weakened the dart and cast it back. And finally, He fixes it backward into the heart of the archer; for such is the heavenly helper to those who call upon Him.
C 46. I will tell you something else for your consolation that is most persuasive and most beneficial. Lift up your souls in spirit to our divinely-inspired emperor, and find comfort, and look forward to his help. For he will succor us through his royal works and divine providence, especially if we bend God with our prayers and we ourselves cooperate and direct the spear against the whole hostile troop that thirsts for blood. Moreover, he will provide consolation against temptations. You well know that from the time he began to reign D unto this very day, he has not ceased—I will not say to labor—but he has not given rest to his eyes or his eyelids, but has exposed himself to dangers where the concern was not for a peaceful, but for a violent death. What then, when he carries the whole world upon his shoulders and receives blessings in the faith which he places in God, is his reward (for he trusts, even though he has suffered countless evils, that He has restored both flesh and soul); shall we, who are in a state of obedience and who are commanded to follow him, not imitate his virtue according to our strength and capacity, by which we obtain divine help? For we do not wish to work by following his example. For a similar duty does not lie upon us, and even if it did, we would not perform it in a similar way. This I warn you of: do not succumb at all to fear and despair. Place before your eyes the waves
A that were crested against him, which he drove back by steering skillfully; how many storms he dissolved, with God scattering and leading them away; what kinds and how many beasts he brought down that were leaping upon us, with God assisting him there as well. We must take heart, therefore, that the same God who will humble the waves and the tempests—which are currently cresting against us and hanging over the Roman land—and the roaring, terrifying beasts, will reduce some to stillness, cause others to scatter and disappear, and crush the teeth of others; and thus He will provide a peaceful state. Some, I think, remember our words, how often I have spoken to the public ear of the character of the empire. And that was, that it seems God has fashioned our emperor to be thoroughly and completely an untiring athlete, and one who conquers through all things, so that he, too, might have reason to glory, being a worker of God, and eating his own bread by the sweat of his brow B for the sake of the divine calling. Let this now also fill us with good hopes, as we consider that He who is always the same will not, God willing, be changed in the present circumstances.
47. Furthermore, consider that history which I collected and set forth, recounting how the ancient of times brought forth that famous Hercules, a subject of much discourse. And it was suitable for him, or rather it was his lot, to be constantly engaged in the most burdensome contests, yet also to be constantly illumined by victories. Therefore, in no contest did he ever fall behind. And if, perchance, stones and other missiles were thrown at him, causing him pain, and he suffered other labors, such as he who undertakes difficult tasks is wont to suffer, yet he did not succumb, nor even fall, nor prove inferior, nor was he deprived of excelling over all. These things I said as I drew a comparison to the imperial activity, measuring the rewards to the toils. I also added to this history a proverb, saying in a questioning manner: "Has the emperor also been born on the fourth?" For indeed, that Hercules, having been brought to birth around the fourth of the month, and being well-versed in contests, yet not conquered, gave rise to a proverb. According to this, people apply the saying "born on the fourth" to such men, for those who wonder at their deeds. Let us pray, therefore, that the emperor may now also be strengthened for our sake, so as to restore to us our ancient peace. And thus, our prayer and our confidence, being heard by God, will drive away the sorrow of excessive misfortune, and we shall be comforted.
48. Let us pray, however, not merely for outward formality and a show of prayer, lifting up hands and uttering cries, while neglecting the more essential parts of praying, through which prayers are known to be lightened before God. What these essential things are, you know better from elsewhere than each knows his own name, as they say; yet by adding a few things myself, I will conclude the discourse.
49. When we are about to stand for prayer, D we should be disposed as if we were about to appear before a great emperor; and if we present ourselves as such, it is not
A that God will not hear us. He who stands as a suppliant before an emperor, and is present, and makes his request, admits nothing of the current life into his mind; but, having closed all the doors of the soul, so that nothing from the outside can slip into it, he causes his mind to be alone and to be by itself and to speak only those things that pertain to his petition. He does not think of his spouse, nor of his sweet children, nor of wealth, nor of possessions; more than that, such a one goes out of himself, and acts according to no sensation. He hears nothing of what is around him; for even if they thunder with words, he does not turn his eye to anyone, and in no way does he expand his faculty of sense; but he narrows it, being concerned with one and only that one, the emperor, and he is measured as one to one, and becomes alone with the alone. We know that many in such states are pulled by the hair, and though they may resist, they do not perceive by whom they are being pulled. They even suffer blows, and B not even so do they turn, but remain as they are, like stones being struck. How then could such people be affected by insults? For they are deaf to every other sound, looking only for the imperial pronouncement.
50. And so, therefore, we too ought to pray, setting aside at least that short hour for God; and thus we will accomplish what we seek. Those virtuous actions which we have preceded in performing will certainly speak around our prayers, and above all others, almsgiving, and that, provided it happens with cheerfulness. For we know that "a cheerful giver is loved by God." Since, indeed, he who does not give alms in this way, but with a harshness difficult to approach, is like those nurses who, smearing the nipple with bile, wean the infants. For in this way he who shows mercy with bile makes the begging poor man shun him. C For he will not come for a second petition.
51. Nature itself will speak for our prayer, if we duly guard the divine aspect of our creation both in the strictly unique, and in the image (both these are certainly one, because it is both from one and toward one); furthermore, if we manage to multiply this unity that is in us in another way, considering the nature of the derivative composition, and not only dividing ourselves into a quaternion by the aid of elemental and general virtues, but also in another, more civic and worldly way; if we become heaven by the ethereal ascents of the mind and by the illuminations according to the stars, upon which angels walk, and from which Lucifer, having lost his light, voluntarily fell; and then at the same time earth, in imitation of D the creation of the world, according to which heaven and earth were created before all things. And we become earth, not in the sense of being prone, humble, and removed from pride, but by imitating the modesty of mother earth, rejecting every haughtiness and empty spirits alienated from God; and finally, let us be fertile earth, and in no way stony, which rejects the divine seed and fosters the leaf that suffocates the divine seed.
B 52. By such considerations we shall also be able to extend ourselves into a great and wide sea through alleviating and doing good, and thus to nourish living creatures—not only small ones, which require little expenditure, but also large ones, which have need of more substantial food. We shall be able to grant the bitter brine to those who desire to indulge in it—which gave rise to a rather bitter man being nicknamed 'Halmion'—but the sweet brine, which corresponds to the divine salt, from which also comes the proverb "to have no brine" applied to the most unpleasant of men, and as it were, those who are self-important; to whom also, in some cases, the term "unsalted" is attached.
53. In a similar way, we shall also prepare ourselves for the air, or even for the ether—both being luminous, vivifying, fragrant, and pure—since the soul is not clouded, and heavenly spirits ascend through the spiritual ladder, and for other reasons which we define concisely; but you are in error. Therefore, do not follow a deeper doctrine in matters which you are able to teach others, since there is no need to search for a candle, a beacon, or a lamp, while the solar light of the sacred Scriptures shines in the air and illuminates our path; nor, like those who have not yet learned the way in which one must walk, can we approach the greatest Master with the words: "Show me, O Lord, the way wherein I should walk." For we all surely know where we must walk, and from where we should turn aside, being persuaded that a right way is action according to God, to which is opposed that from which we turn aside from virtue, according to Him who commands to do good and to turn aside from evil. We know where we must lodge and stay, and when we ought to proceed further on the way. For we shall lodge, dwelling in the love of God, and on the other hand, we shall delay our course when insidious thoughts beset us. There is not one single path of life open to us, but several, of which this one leads to good, that one to evil. It must be said, therefore, that just as in any path of vice we wander from virtue, so in whichever virtue we cultivate, we shall have God as a most rich host and a most just judge meeting us.
54. C After these conclusions, I fear lest our prayers should be received with difficulty, if not by the poor, then at least by those who defraud creditors, whom heavy pains afflict, just as, according to the Scriptures, women in labor are distressed because of their accursed birth. It is displeasing to God, contrary to nature, a savage and most voracious beast, against which we have most often barked with the manners of rabid dogs, and which we have not been able to drag from its cavern in which it is hidden (it is hidden in the souls of most), nor to prevent it from tearing and mangling the miserable poor.
55. Therefore, it has now seemed good to me to remain silent for a while. For I see that, to the extent that I...
A cry out to the usurers, they are so much the worse; and my precepts, by which I try to tame the ferocity of that beast as if by incantations, are held as empty clamor, by which it is actually incited to rush upon and harm those whom God has pitied and who are considered our brothers—just as rich sheep, whose milk and flesh and skin and wool the stewards turn to their own use, not even sparing those things that do not serve for food, but using them for the fertilizing of plants and trees. Are we not also in the condition of debtors? And well, if it is so. But now we are in a more iniquitous condition. For we open stables for the cattle, we grant them a fold in the fields, and we offer them what is needed for sustenance through the winter, sparing their milk; we set shepherds over them, we remove B plagues and other diseases from them, we open fields for them to graze in at the proper time, we strip off the wool when they are not cold—nay, the very wool itself falls off, and is torn by thistles unless one shears it quickly enough. But we do nothing of the sort for these miserable nurslings of God; nay, more, having no concern for them, we deport them, we squeeze them daily, we famish them, we strip them bare, we devour them, not like vultures eating carrion, but like the eagle C devouring Prometheus placed upon the rock, and thus we feast upon raw human flesh.
56. Remove, I beseech you, merciful Lord, these inhuman ways both from every Christian and from us, who, feasting on human flesh, renounce the gentleness that befits a human being. Grant us to understand that it is better to leave a brother to die in the article of death than to torment him with the tortures of hunger. Teach us to work according to our strength. For we can become gods, as You Yourself have said, who did not establish anything against our faculties or customs. Do not allow us to do any evil by obeying the demon, the master of perversity. Teach us to become heavenly, since You Yourself called us into heaven, and by Your coming caused us to ascend; D You who humbled Yourself that we might be exalted. Do not allow us to become inhabitants of the abyss, into which he who fell from heaven attempts to cast us, wishing to destroy the human race, and who multiplies evils so that more benefits might emerge, and that he might have more companions in wickedness.
57. I wished to teach even more, O brothers and friends, for the water of my hourglass has not yet run out. But because a limit must be observed by me, by adding very little I shall bring my speech to an end.
58. God has handled the sieve (in not too many years), through which He has judged us, who were indeed grain of God for the truth, but who had been mingled with the seed of the evil one of the world by the devil who asked for us, and had been mingled not well, as a good husbandman, and
A separating what was clearly confused, he restored us to that state in which we were. And behold, we are in a good state. Let us hasten, therefore, through intercessions, so that we may not again be indiscriminately colored with tares and weeds, through which we would bring to naught the bread-making according to the Spirit, the leaven that follows it, and the good dough upon it. Let us take care that we do not become rejected by the heavenly bread, and that we might not be unworthy of the fatted calf that is mystically hoped for, nor be allotted to the furnace of chastising fire, instead of what otherwise ought to be: namely, that we should be presented as wheat-bread at the table of the Master God, and become food, which He Himself loves to be offered, making us His own in His love for mankind through the goodness that is consubstantial with Him before the ages and unto all ages. Amen. B distincts by distinguishing them, those who are us—I mean the good, He made. Let us therefore strive with daily diligence, that we may not corrupt our field with darnel and weeds, nor lose our spiritual bread-making and thus the good leaven. Let us give diligence that we do not become rejected before the heavenly bread, nor unworthy of the fatted calf promised mystically, nor condemned to the burning furnace for the sake of punishment, but let us place mature loaves upon the table of God and the Lord, that we may be the wheat which He Himself loves to eat, embracing us lovingly through the goodness consubstantial to Him before the ages and unto all ages. Amen.
ON AMENDING THE MONASTIC LIFE.
A Ejusdem Eustathii Thessalonicensis vitæ monasticæ consideratio ad emendationem eorum qui ei nomen dederunt.
1. O strenuous monks, O true Nazirites, O anchorites! You who have left behind the cares of the world and of life, those dwellers in a corner for the sake of God, who have indeed departed from the world, but have approached God, exercising yourselves in solitary quiet for the works pleasing to God unto perfection, and ascending by contemplation to a worship more akin to God and thus equal to the angels, rejecting earthly servitude and so fleeing the prince of malice—blessed deserters who have run to the true Liberator, the Lord, and have exchanged earthly things for heavenly—O you, therefore, consecrated to God and, instead of citizens of the world, citizens of heaven, listen to me kindly, I who propose to speak to those among us who live differently from the established order, and to rebuke those themselves who deviate from the path which you chose: so that they may be conformed to my proposal, if by chance some of those who share my position should turn out to be better; B and to whom I shall not conceal this discourse, but by bringing it into the light, I shall either recall them from their folly or otherwise discharge my duty, and I shall argue and irreprehensibly exhort (for it is not permitted to rebuke them) as if one had not suitably torn out the bitter roots of those struck deeply, or prepared harsh medicines; and then, before all else, I shall bring back to their memory the goal for the sake of which they chose the lay commerce and the common worldly life; and I shall bring into desire the promises which they had pledged before the time of the second life, before the most holy assembly of those presiding, where they are ordained unto the great King, God, with the gathered assembly that is of God.
2. With these things premised, I say, what each mind has brought forth, and the promise which it has produced, bringing these into the knowledge before the men whom one custom has gathered, celebrating a feast for the salvation of the same mind, and above all for God and his angels, then I bring forward into explanation, most undoubtedly, both the lives and the methods of governing, of which the native monks become participators after their separation from the world; so that if indeed they work good things, and things worthy of your saints, for which the divine archetypes are engraved or written, C just as they emit expectation, bless them, and direct the works of their hands upon them, as the Psalmist says. But if, as if having forgotten that they are monks, they do all other things as is the proposal, or dis-
- A pense the correction which is fitting for them, abolishing what they have done: or otherwise labor for us, performing the work of an embassy for God, the serenity of the soul—because now we do not stand in an undisturbed state, since evil spirits trouble those whom we also see—the saving bosom, which alone, embracing the calm harbors for those who are reaching them from the sea of life, guarantees the things that save.
3. Let there be proposed, therefore, for our discussion that which they themselves proposed when from the beginning they contemplated becoming departed from life; and I shall have no need of a long discourse here, nor shall I waste time by extending myself beyond what is necessary. For just as, to speak a word, [was] the salvation of the soul and toward God, thus did this acquaintance remove them from the life which they had lately abandoned. For they condemned it, but chose the better, the apostolic, and because of this, the angelic [life]; and having come to it, they withdrew as into exile, like those about to dwell in a wilderness, B or rather, like those about to be restored to a land of promise; for the sake of which, as if God were calling them, they went out from their land and from their kindred, and came into a land and a life such as God points out to those who hold to the part of Abraham, and to as many as are worthy of him.
4. And such was for them the goal of their migration, for the sake of which one [left] both wife and children, another both property and every remainder of the commerce of life, as one might say, but in general all of them abandoned the will that is according to the world, and became of one and the same [mind]—that according to the chosen purpose—and having walked [in it], then also intending to set [their hands] to the works by which men who have formed such a plan are led into the straight path, and this not simply, and as it might happen, and as they themselves wished, did they set [themselves] to divine works. C For how could they have an excuse afterward for the things in which they stumbled, as if they themselves had attempted, they themselves had confirmed, they themselves had begun it, with no one reminding, no one teaching, no one pointing out the way, no one hindering; and therefore they do nothing wondrous if they have followed another way than [the original] purpose, nor ought they to render an account, because, having found difficulty in the things which they had planned and begun as inexpert, they desisted from going further in it, and having progressed a little bit, they drew back their foot, because they found the way rough? Therefore, they did not enter upon the monastic life without due consideration, but indeed with deliberation and counsel, after having been admonished and taught, and for the most part after surrenderings and pledges, D and these ones, which are full of dread, if they were merely spoken of; and the discourse, as it proceeds, will hint at them as much as shall be sufficient.
5. Since, therefore, the matters are thus, which such men both proposed and undertook—and they are in no wise otherwise—it must be set forth briefly what we observe among them today. And would that they be not far from the life which they chose: for even if this should happen, it will be necessary, after the arguments have been brought forward, to rise up, so that they do not admit these two grave things: that they themselves are outside the straight path, and that they, by their own examples, deter others who are fit to pursue it.
A 6. It is necessary, therefore, before we describe the life of the choir, both recent and modern, to set forth under what conditions they exchanged the secular life, and then to connect with the same line of reasoning those things which they do not fear to do after this accepted form, and thus bring the discourse to the proposed end.
7. But before all else, we shall make mention of the congregation among those inhabitants of the first rank, which was perfect and made others perfect, which the canon law requires to be set before the rest—indeed, before almost everyone—as a certain divine image. Such are the men of great and angelic habit, by that very fact truly great, and like angels, according to the precept of the rule, and the institution, and the B mystic initiation. For they, turning away from the earth, and being raised from it by the wings of the Spirit to God, began to consider human affairs from a divine elevation, provided that they will it; they yield place to the one and only divine order alone, and rise from their high seat before the pontiff; but they surpass the rest who are inferior in purpose and habit. For under heaven, among the divine orders of men, second after the heavenly ones, those who represent the image of the first and greatest pontiff of our salvation—men receiving the goods flowing from therein—cannot forbid each one from standing near him, just as he was ordered. Thence they immediately receive dignity; so that after these three luminaries, after that which is without doubt above the sun (which is God); after that which is like the sun, though less so than the angels (with which the pontiff shines); after the lunar, if I may so speak, which is to be seen in the perfect monk, all those who are inferior may shine according to God, as stars upon the earth: and they may illuminate with light, and, with vivid virtues, may lead more sluggish men, C like fertile earth, to produce fruit. The first fruits of this earth are such monks dedicated to God, and beside them, and in another way above them, the pontiffs: beside them, indeed, because they live by the same laws; above them, because of the loftiness of the pontificate. For it is a royal priesthood, by which they themselves are in every way blessed, as being inferior in every part to the superior. There will perhaps be those who, hearing these things, will be indignant, as can be conjectured from those things which we experience on every side; but they will not be worthy of praise, since they cannot give a reason for this annoyance, if anyone demands it of them.
8. For if all sanctification, whether in holy baptism, or that which is in the conversation of the rest of the life of the baptized, if all the degrees of holiness, and especially the tonsure itself, by which monks are consecrated to God, are not blessed in any other way, unless by the Holy Spirit judging D spiritually, and externally by the bishops, or by the priests whom the bishops appoint as workers of these sacred rites; how could anyone from among the monks, consecrated by priests within the mysteries, dare to contradict that he is not subject to the presiding pontiff, and is not less than he? And not only to him who has performed it to the letter and has thus consecrated him, but to whosoever,
A even if he be the lowest, if those who are not deep-thinking raise themselves up to their heads and wish to lead them away—assuming they are heads, but in reality being necks without a head, and thus establishing themselves in arrogance against their own creators—are contradictory to their author. For they do not consider that they themselves are indeed distinguished as Fathers in the hierarchical order, but that the Pontiff is the Father of Fathers; nor that they themselves, who merely preside at times, are shepherds, but that the Pontiff is the chief shepherd, to whom it has fallen to be above those who preside, and often the bishop of bishops; nor that those who have practiced even a little in monastic works would desire to ascend to the pontificate—not because they would be cast down from the peak of a mountain into a precipice, but because they would rise from earth to heaven.
9. But for what reason should I wander further and B not turn back to the proposed course? The matter at hand was the choosing of the perfect life and the consideration within it of the whole monastic life: which those who describe as illustrious monks among us after the first ones, labor in vain, as far as they themselves are concerned. But if I approach these first ones in order to organize the discourse well, it will teach all worldly orders, as they say, the great and the small, occupied with greater or lesser matters. One, indeed, is ordained to a greater station, another to a second place, and a third to those that are lower: no one will demand that we recount each of these individually, since there is no one who would call this opinion into doubt.
10. The monastic kind is an army, C and not just any, but one that is truly divine. A sacred host, the battle-line of God, chosen by the Lord; renowned in heaven, completely separated from the nobles of the earth for whom evils are kept, soldiers against the apostate and rebellious devil, imitators of angels, and therefore guardians not only of human souls but also of bodies, to which they bring health by removing the sins that often disturb the well-attuned harmony within us; they are vessels of virtue, if they are readily opened to it; receptacles of divine myrrh, when they do not reek foully; effigies of the apostles, when they are suited for carving out divine things; salutary paradises, inaccessible to the treacherous serpents through whom the devil wishes to speak with those who lend him an ear. This most beautiful battle-line, which another hierarch altogether surpasses, displays its own prelates who are distinguished by great virtues, who (to speak D absolutely) must in no way fail their own greatness and their own great character; the understanding of which I do not think ascends into the minds of all, nor do I think it is a perfect knowledge, such that it is understood at first glance.
11. Of the figures that are set forth in mathematics according to learning, the sphere seems to excel, whose line is drawn around, and by its own gyration enfolding everything within, and being conspicuous from its great appearance, it is rightly to be called a great figure on account of its own magnitude. In the same way, the monk, celestial in virtue and near to God, and worthy in some way of him who—
A is, as the argument proceeding hereafter will show, might be seen to be denominated a "great-habited" one, being called so by way of distinction, just as a sphere is distinguished from other figures, and likewise from those not of its own kind.
12. Let this be said briefly, and not altogether in vain, I think. It is likely that the most holy Fathers, who were skilled in philosophy, derived this divine greatness of the monk from elsewhere. For, since there were three states preceding those who were set over the instruction of logic, and since the first of them is seen to hold the primary place over those who follow, both for other reasons and because through it the others are perfected—that is, the second and the third, as the wise men show—perhaps from thence the monk took the name of "great habit." He therefore holds the first place among those who follow. These are: the mantellatus of the B minor order (for example) and after him the novice. This perfect one is honored in that, being skilled in teaching spiritual things both by acting and by instructing, if not by the bond of the syllogism, then at least by the grace of the Holy Spirit, he brings the lower orders to that perfection which pleases the one and wise God. But these matters, being as it were set aside for certain questions, had to be run through briefly for most monks: yet a third opinion must be stated, which all can grasp.
13. The common man, and indeed the majority of men, and to say it all, every worldly man, except the one strictly called a monk, would seem to be without a stamp, without a species, without a character, without distinction, without form, and without adornment C as long as they turn among earthly things. The cause of such an opinion is the varied, manifold, and ten-thousand-fold nature of life, and hence it is not easily defined. For someone uses the color of virtue while he lives an earthly life, but having been lifted up, he soon returns to his original color. Another rages tyrannically while he acts with power, and once that is lost, he returns unwillingly to clemency, changed from a wild to a human nature. Someone once donned liberality, but was soon transferred into another habit, who by a tragic writer might be called a "raptor of men." And on the contrary, we know of rapacious men who were liberal and afterwards ferocious, then foolish and arrogant, and those who have reverted to virtue. The Euripus of the world D sees a thousand such turnings, by which the secular man is seen to have more faces and more forms than Proteus, which it would be impossible to enumerate. The Euripus of life knows how to turn a thousand such windings, by which a person with many faces—and more polymorphous than Proteus—is, well, there is no saying.
14. And thus life, by reason of being many-figured, indefinite, and thus unstable, argues for one...
A who is of the noble animal, man, not to have any character at all. For indefiniteness seeks in some way to feign a deprivation. But when he, having set up the mirror of conscience, directs the intellectual eye toward it, and having gathered from that spiritual image, learns that the shape proper to a man is lacking in him, just as Nebuchadnezzar did when he fell away from his proper character, and in later times Tiridates (for why must one bring in the Circensian fables here?), then, indeed, being distressed, he ponders what he might do to form himself into some definite shape and establish the instability within him. And so, having ascended in his mind to the majesty of the sun, and further to that of the moon, and having admired the former for its shape that remains ever in the same state, but having condemned the phases of the moon because of the varied shape it shows on account of that [earthly] influence, he flees from the earth—which is the cause why, as the nearest body to the earth, spots appear in the moon's shape—and he rises above the earth.
15. And then, as if transformed from a hideous and formless infant of a bear into a beauty proper to himself, and enrolled into the cultivated people of God, to speak in the evangelical manner, and thus adorned and inscribed, he begins to hold a stable form and to be shaped into a perfect man; and especially to be fashioned B into the divine form, and, what is to be revered above all, to put on the face of God, according to the words of the Scriptures. He no longer walks as before, without a shape, in the night of life, which is subject to change; but on the contrary, he moves about honorably as in the day. For now he is worthy to be called a holy man of God, like Joseph, the lord's steward in the night, who by night and by day was of the same habit according to God, not changed thereafter into something alien, nor wavering, nor varied. And such a habit, a form renewed into what is fitting, is indeed holy, and most convenient for man, because it leads man away from many ancient shapes to a single one; yet he remains small. And why small? Because this man, clothed in the black vestment of God, has not yet received the truly great, nor has he reached the desired higher end; he has ceased to move in the plain, he has now reached the mountain, he creeps upon it with all his strength; he has gone out from the plain, and from the smoke emanating from it, C and is near to a purer air and a life-giving spirit, although he still looks down to the earth and the things concerning the earth, and revolves in his memory those former things, beneath which the true human shape lay hidden: and he now fears that, falling from his undertaking and cast down from on high, he might suffer worse things.
16. But when, having feared the fear—where fear was—he extends his wings in the morning, which he greets when he is sober, to supplications which God hears; and while he closes his eyes, and at the same time all sensation, so that he no longer desires in any way to be an earthly man, but D a heavenly one, and he will take a stand, having confirmed within himself that he has stepped upon the virtuous summit, and to leave behind the stagnant air of the region and the clouds surrounding it, and the tempests of every kind, to become an inhabitant of a region free of mist and ever serene.
A And indeed, the participants in such an aspiration—or rather, fruition—find that when one has been restored to God, having become an inhabitant of the highest place, from which the Lord looks down and surveys all the sons of men, and is in some way inclined toward Him, that person is also able to look upon men, as many as have need of his oversight, and to do all things that he desires—then, truly, having advanced a small distance, to an extent that could scarcely be numbered, he has become a partner in the great habit, resplendent in one shining and very great countenance, appearing under the appearance of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ, one of the incomprehensible Trinity, and likewise endowed much and uniquely with the rest of the spiritual information, and thus not failing in the assumption of the great habit—which would indeed happen (wonderful to say!) were it not that the holy Fathers judged it to differ from the maximum and unique appearance of God, to which, being incomparable from eternity, all others appear as shadows; for the very great uniformity according to God, and the shadowless reality, are what have been contemplated. B 17. Since the life of the great habit is thus, as has been said, in a triple conception, a refuge for good Christians, when they wish to hide from enemies casting missiles from on high, blessed indeed is he who has truly assumed the holy habit and appearance in it, who is divinely informed, and has stood as though in the form of God, and has rightfully received the greatness; who furthermore perfects men inferior to him under the great and first order, with philosophical words and other similar arguments, fulfilling what is lacking, according to the excellent method of the syllogism, by which one arrives at the knowledge of goods; and he also reaches out toward the imitation of celestial things, as will be clear from the things to be said below. Therefore, we shall call blessed the man of these three orders, on account of his ascent into monastic C perfection, flying even up to heaven. But miserable, and not once, but three times miserable, is the hypocrite who hides another kind of life under this appearance, who is said to be fleeing to God, yet in reality has not clung to Him at all, whether out of mockery, or out of fear, or out of avarice, preferring this good for the sake of gain; who, having faked the triple great habit already mentioned, has not even taken on the divine appearance in his mind, who leads an irrational life, is deceived by the master of malice, and falls like Lucifer from the heaven of the intelligent. It would have been better for him, as he was warned at the time of the tonsure, not to adhere to God than, having adhered to Him, to renounce Him: for the former might perhaps have had an excuse, but this latter ends in certain condemnation. 18. Come then, let us make a brief survey of the things that are laid down for those D who are trained for spiritual greatness, and who have thus promised to serve God; so that by comparing our actions to these things, we may learn whether they are similar to the point and to the perfect, who must fashion themselves toward the divine appearance. In this way, this brief exposition will succeed better. 19. And first, we take from this divine armamentarium
A for the spiritual war, for which those who are enrolled are being prepared. For when they are ceremonially clothed in the manner of armor, on the evening before, outside the temple entrances, the garments are prepared, sanctified, and have water sprinkled upon them so that they may become a lorica. On the next day, they are first clothed in these before the holy initiation, which begins in the morning and extends until the sun is high, so that in this way, in the evening, morning, and at midday, the wonders of God may be proclaimed. And when the mystery of this task is to be completed, spiritual songs and psalms begin, making manifest the joy of the soul (for song is something joyful, nor is any animal said to sing when it is sad); there follow as well beatitudes for those who have chosen to be fashioned thus according to God; and a condemnation of life is uttered, in song and also in the manner of the Gospel, as if from the mouth of the one about to be tonsured, as though he repents and is ashamed that he entangled himself in earthly and contemptible things and despised the heavenly. After these things have been performed, the monk, already most intimate with God, standing beside Him and having advanced entirely, is questioned at the threshold as to why he has approached, whether he promises to remain in the monastery and in the exercise until the end—which is to say, not only until he is whole and perfect, but also until death. Afterward, obedience, patience, submission, solitude, and other such things are again requested; and after he has promised, he is commanded to reflect on what he has promised, and to whom he has entrusted the promise, namely to God and to the angels, whose appearance he desires B. 20. It is announced to him that the angels are present, witnessing the things to which he himself testifies; and he learns that he who is thus renouncing commits himself to the cross and to death, and that from that moment he must be crucified and die to the world, just as the world must die to him, so that neither may he, having been lifted up on the cross from the earth on high, direct his mind toward the world, nor may the world, in an affectionate manner, cling to him who has thus been exalted, through those near to him, lest they disturb and cast down the one who is crucified. For immediately he is commanded to be separated from parents, brothers, and all kin, from the familiarity of friends, from worldly tumult, cares, and possessions to be acquired after the tonsure, from goods, pleasure, and glory—not just any, but the vain glory of this age—since only then will it be time to enjoy other pleasures according to God, among which the first place is held by the remembrance of God, and finding joy in this, and that glory by which God is magnificently glorified. Such are entirely the fruits that flow, as from a fountain, from the labor undertaken for God, for labors, as we know, bring forth glory. 21. Furthermore, he is admonished that his soul must also be denied. Which soul? That through which the "natural" man does not perceive the things of the Spirit; by denying which he takes up the cross to follow Christ. And again, the one who has approached God is exhorted, at that moment, not to desire the leisure that irrational cattle seek, nor
A negligence, nor delights. He is inflamed toward spiritual struggles, and also toward poverty: I mean specifically that which is of the Spirit; and he fasts from sin, or that which concerns itself with worldly abundance. Then he is led to a good sorrow, which he has conceived, as it was said, as a man crucified and dead, who from that point seeks to be dissolved, and says with tears: “Woe is me, for my sojourning is prolonged 1, and I am not delivered from this life!” And the splendor of hunger, thirst, nakedness, and injuries is shown to him, on account of their abundant reward in heaven, from which it is necessary for him to rejoice. It happens among these things that he can say: “Who then can be saved 2?” But when he hears the evangelist saying that things impossible with men are possible with God, he is silent willingly, prudently, and bowing his head. Thus, by consenting, he receives what is said, and is persuaded when he immediately hears that he has been elected by God and separated from this worldly life; when he hears, as if from the person of Him according to whom he is formed with joy, that he has been placed as a soldier into an angelic life, into a way of acting that is sublime and similar to B a heavenly polity.
22. Tremendous indeed are all these things, brother, but this word of the divine book of initiation brings me to even greater trembling; that such a one, being received, hears that he must immediately receive baptism, begin another life, and change the old, or, to speak more aptly, be reborn unto salvation, be cleansed from sins, and become a son of light. He hears even that Christ rejoices with the holy angels over his repentance, and kills the fatted calf, and from this hour is invited to walk worthily of his calling, to lay aside the love of vanity, and not to look back in the least, lest he become, he says, a pillar of salt, like the wife of Lot, or like a dog returning to its own vomit, or lest he be likened to a man putting his hand to the plow and looking backward, and being in no way fit for the kingdom of God. C
23. That holy book furthermore demands that the great-habited monk be a stranger to disobedience, contention, pride, discord, anger, clamor, blasphemy, detraction, idleness, impudence, private friendships, hidden eating, presumption, complaint, whispering, and to the pitiable thing of possessing something as one's own; and all goods in this world are called miserable by the Law, because he who is attached to them becomes worthy of pity, then the monk should not care to acquire even the vilest or smallest things: for this is what most truly befits the poor who possess almost nothing except themselves. If it is necessary for such ones to have anything (and they will certainly have it, as God grants), that will not be outside the standard of this book. For in place of possession, there have been granted to them things fitting for the holy: charity, silence, decency, piety, zeal D for the divine word, reading, works according to strength.
temperance, and patience even unto death.
24. With these things thus enjoined, the exhortation does not end with mere words; but the one being initiated is asked whether he promises to keep all these things, not trusting in his own virtue but in the divine, and whether he vows to remain in these promises until the end of his life, not by any strength natural to himself, but rather by the grace of Christ. And after he who is to be tonsured has answered, "Yes, Father," and thus has secured the spiritual treasure, the one tonsuring him invokes B the desired blessings; and placing a benedictory seal upon him, he prays, speaking those things which the one being tonsured must keep, while he lies upon the ground until the complete initiation, as if embracing mother earth in his prostration, from which he is soon to depart for a long journey; so that, having at some time been peacefully led out from the flesh, he may leave it behind below, cast down to the earth or returned to where it was taken from, and may fly off with a free mind to Him by whom he was called and to whom he was ordained.
25. And thus, from the beginning, men promised to embrace the discipline of God. But I am now to tell what the holy monks of our age—who appear to live much, but are in reality dead—devise afterward; they who first had determined to dwell in heaven, but, having changed their purpose, take delight in the earth; who were monks for a little while, but soon are not only doubled (not after the likeness of the twin Molionidae, C to whose strength and vigor it is impossible to attain; nor according to the double man of Plato, whose duality is described as monstrous, with two natures turning back upon each other; nor according to the famous Janus, who was doubled only by two faces), but are extended into a multiplicity through other ways, not worthy of praise. For when God commanded them, at the time they dedicated themselves as it were changed and renewed for the heavenly world, to increase and multiply—that is, by good deeds and the excellence of virtues, and also by producing many disciples who are not degenerate—they, on the contrary, having turned from on high to below and having been precipitated upon their heads, increase and multiply the things of their former life, striving to surpass mere laymen in acquired goods, and to gather up the former dung of worldly conversation, which is nothing when compared to the D future goods; then, having acquired immoderate goods, when they are in need of nothing and ought to be poor, they grow rich without any necessity, forgetful of the commandment: "Seek the heavenly kingdom, and the earthly shall be added unto you." For they do not allow these things to be poured forth spontaneously by God, and once poured forth to be brought back where it is necessary—and in that way reflected to the Author, by way of alms and other charitable giving—but they indulge such passion,
and they seize, and the things thus gathered they lay away, hoarding them in coffers and storehouses. B
26. And perhaps this might be excusable for those who are somewhat more simple, regarding perfection. But these men perform this so audaciously that no one who hears it can bear it. And with good reason. For to what end does such a man hoard, unless for a legitimate purpose? And having professed poverty, for what does he gather, if not for sin? For there, as we know by sight and hearing, there were laymen whose whole body was hidden on all sides by filth as by a cloak, and many parts of the body appeared so raw that they could not be looked upon. The belly, for the most part, was emaciated and void. Therefore, they used to shun the sun, they could not endure the eyes of the crowd for shame, and, being obscure, they were unknown in the world. But when, having left the century, they came into the desert and determined to draw near to God, they shone more purely; they were seen to put away their squalor with frequent baths of hot water, and thus they not only washed away their stains, but even forgot that they were persons of God—who had been sought after and had been found acceptable—and they clothed themselves in garments feigning the monastic habit; and they so distended their bellies that they no longer had the strength to bear their own natural weight, but placed it upon vigorous mules. And they who never disdained to walk on foot, now openly refuse the earth itself, as though honoring their mother in that way, and not daring to tread upon her, desiring rather to be raised above the earth; and so a Persian in the noble Xenophon would sooner use his feet for walking, or a Centaur would be separated from his horse, than these men would walk on their own feet. C
27. For perhaps such a one, as if playing at fulfilling his vow of dying to the world, as he was admonished and promised, strives to demonstrate it to others in different ways, and truthfully—namely, by an idleness of life that is impassive and does not move according to animal desires; but he lays himself, like some useless burden, upon beasts of burden, and thus is carried in the company of irrational animals, one hidden and another manifest. The wretch is deceived, nor does he think that a different equitation is to be practiced by him, according to the prophet—the waters, such as Scripture implies are to be understood, which stir up the waters. These waters act in many other ways, and are likened to the sea because they are abundant, great, and immense, and it is difficult for those to approach them to taste them who are unable or disdain to drink that water; the same waters, however, act in another way and leap up, and give eternal life. If this illustrious rider, this abbot, refrains from such water no less than from salt, he does not think of the equitation that sweeps through the waters depicted, and [does not think of how one] must not stir up the storm-tossed waves, the cloak, and the ebbing sea, which all...
A a worldly man experiences while sailing through the sea of affairs, but not he who has chosen a quiet and tranquil life.
28. O Elijah, who art caught up in a chariot, why dost thou not send down a voice from above, so that we may know how such men of God ought to ride, lest the spiritual path be rendered useless by traveling upon the earth? Or, having stepped out of thy fiery chariot and ascended above the world, dost thou care little for those who do not wish to emulate thy carriage? Yet, dost thou allow us to speak, if there is anything even from God that might occur to us to utter? And indeed, let us do so, O holy monk of God. Just as one should not always walk, but must sometimes rest; nor should one stand upright and inflexible through the entire span of life, but there are times when the body must be granted rest, not only upon the ground but, if necessary, even on a pallet and bed, and that with a covering; so too, the earth should not be trodden by foot continuously, but a chariot should also be used during certain circumstances, such as those that the wheel of life often brings about, turning from on high and wrapping our days in its circle. And I am not speaking of sickness, by which—in its many forms—the lowly body within us is placed upon a litter, but of other accidents on account of which it is necessary even for the greatest among monks to cease walking on foot at times. A long journey, of course, will compel him to ascend into a vehicle, as will a majesty that is pleasant and worthy of a holy man, lest he be mingled with the vulgar B and the uncouth, in a manner appropriate to a man of purity and one intentionally magnifying himself.
29. For in many places such things must also be observed on account of senseless people who, not being able to look into the inner man, wish to characterize him from external things. For this reason, that great monk should not be depicted as a monstrous figure, lest he be reviled by the ignorant; but if he refrains from this, there will not be wanting other ways to attract those he encounters. For indeed, he will be cheerful when it is the time, and will smile with serenity. What then? If he has attained this equanimity, will he still laugh? For I cannot approve of those who condemn laughter altogether among men, until I hear Him who says: "Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh." And that servant of God will behave in the same way, if anything pleasant C should happen to be seen by him; he will look with sweetness and gently incline his ear to those with whom he converses, and will behold a man with a benign countenance, according to the example of the pleasant beauty of our King.
30. Therefore, just as one is granted food at the proper time, and a cleansing bath, and clean clothing, so too a carriage should be granted to the great-habited monk for these reasons, so that he may make use of it, but not over-use it, or misuse it. And he himself will do this piously, remembering Him who, as it is written, ascended upon a colt upon which no one had sat, and triumphed amidst hymns in a stately procession over our common enemy, the devil; he will not do it otherwise, that is to say, with such D luxury as those who live lavishly, lest he be caught by this argument...
A and by the lack of discernment and by the indifference of those who—if one must express it so—are of the preceptive rank; and let those who are of the submissive rank be distorted, likening themselves to these base archetypes, and not skillfully, nor with precision, writing down spiritual things. For is not the philosophy and conduct of such lofty monks, according to the holy Fathers, true philosophy, they who within themselves image the One who is truly the Philosopher, who is truly the First and the Unsupposable? He who fashions the theories concerning him toward no other principle at all, except toward Him who is transcendent and without beginning; ascending to Whom, and grasping Him, and being inspired by Him, he restores himself to the requests and dignities and concepts through which he gathers theorems pleasing to God, reinforced by visions, by which he is illuminated, speaking directly to God in the B great and lofty manner according to Him; dismissing small and groveling things, and as if holding them for nothing; for not even the words and men fashioned according to them have attained perfection.
31. But here I look askance at the lesser-habited monks, whose heart is usually set on caring for horses and riding them, murmuring, complaining, and turning this way and that; perhaps to turn aside what concerns me, or perhaps, having unexpectedly encountered an instrument, they might use it against my lips for saying more than I should. But I, letting them rage in the manner of wild beasts, and ordering the discussion about them to be silent, return to my great monks, and I bring to their mind what they vowed to God, and what they demonstrate; things which are not varied, or diverse, or different, but in every way C contrary; as if they had not been asked about curing their vices and assuming virtue, but rather so that, having recognized the vanity, they might incline toward it, so that, having been admonished concerning the dangers to which the man of God is liable, they might fall into them, and, having made friends, might proceed together as one, and no longer take thought about these things; as if they feared that the divine armour which, having been taken up from the fortress of God, they put on—as the discourse indicated above—would not provide them safety, and they would not be able to extinguish the burning darts of the enemy; which, indeed, against the iron breastplate that is according to God, and against a solid shield, and furthermore against any strong rampart, are of little or no value; but against reeds, or hay, or the remaining heap, they can inflict fire and ruin and of a rampart they act for little or nothing, but against D 32. In this way, therefore, they seem to fear the spiritual weapons, and they do not seem to bring to mind those sacred psalms of the spiritual tonsure previously celebrated, through which, as if by trumpets and other instruments that rouse men to vigorous war, they each individually promised that they would willingly fight against the demon, and were enticed by the blessedness which the strong soldiers of God enjoy, as was said. Nor does such a monk consider the condemnation of life, at which, having heard it, he used to exult, and he himself condemned; but as if he repented because he had condemned some good thing
he returns to his former ways, and embraces them blandly; he acts not only humbly, as before, but more abjectly, if that is possible. Nor does he remember any longer what he was asked, or what he answered, when he was entering upon the holy initiation.
A 33. This interrogation, brother, looked especially to the cause of your arrival; it sought further whether, having applied yourself to a most great work, you would remain most strongly therein until the very end, if all things are to be said in a few words. And you pledged it ardently, with a sincere heart, as it seemed. Thus it was at that time. Many are the witnesses, not suffering a reproach of falsehood, especially those who draw near to the Omnipotent, whose voice every one desires to hear—namely, the angels of God; whom if anyone should dare to convict of falsehood, he would forthwith lift up his hands against God Himself. Nor had much time flowed by, when behold, the agreement was reckoned as nothing; otherwise, it was held with madness, not with right and sound reason. You do indeed obey, but not as you resolved, whenever someone invites you to divide coffers, to prepare the burial of an innocent man, or to other similar things. For are these not things that are done by you against men who deserved nothing? For I deem those works to be yours which are ordered by you. For thus you obey, as you ought not to have done. It was necessary to cast an eye rather than to hear and obey in this way. You refuse to be pressed to such a degree, that your blue eyes (4), in a beastly manner, snatch you away to press others, so that you may rejoice. For [as to] the cause of the glory which you rejected, under the appearance of contempt to which you have again renounced, and to which you set the humility of the sheep of God, you not only press or grind (which is [Gk: θλίβειν]), but B even constrict, suffocate, wound, buffet, chastise, and devise pressure with the aim that, by crushing and standing apart and inaccessible, you may be able to be enriched from the goods of others. These things you perform by a new counsel, and thus you lie about the poverty you had chosen, today indeed [it is] restrictive and evangelically pressing you, but afterwards [it opens] an immense plain, a space which you loved, which was otherwise being narrowed, [but] opening up there into an indescribable breadth.
34. Now I have a memory of narrowness here, not of that which is absolutely necessary, without which a human being cannot live, because a great monk has not been translated into a pure soul; but of that poverty which has nothing in common with superfluous abundance, since neither does poverty draw [one into] absolute indigence, nor C is it the same thing to be in straits or in delights: and therefore many who are not needy can be and are called poor, in those things which pertain to the world or to the Holy Spirit. For prosperous life and abundance are like a spring: and just as above a great and frequented place a small spring, irrigating a small meadow, has useless and meager waters; and on the contrary, if the city is fairly large, it is abundant in waters and will not dissipate such abundance even for necessary things: so also in the monastery D
A a meager and useless possession is a burden, especially when monks allow the surplus to vanish in vain; but for a very large monastery, both in its buildings and in the sacred items that fill them, a great abundance is beneficial, just as abundant pasture is to a large flock.
35. Someone might say concerning a small monastery: “Let the fountains of your water be yours alone, and do not drink of stolen sweetness;” and concerning the one that is excessively wealthy: “Let your fountains be diverted outside the straight path,” B which the Psalmist distinguishes from the pathless and thirsty [land]. For those who require regular irrigation, God has prepared a broad stream; for where abundant water ought not to have flowed, it would have been better if the foundations had not been laid in the beginning, or if, when elevated on high, they had been destroyed by earthquake, storm, and heavenly fire.
36. For why should those who know that the earth, which is wealthy in precious metals, does not contain them in its innermost parts [for nothing], but that some sprout up on the surface so as to be seen and gathered for the use of life, while it hides others, yet reveals them in another way to those who search more deeply, and thus grants them to miners for the common good, who receive the profitable things as a kind of seasoning for their labor—why should they add to and hoard up property in an evil way? And the bowels of the earth, filled with water, some C pour out their goodness to the surface, and thus lie open for common enjoyment; while the greater part, being confined in a hidden place, provides a treasure to those who dig wells, who skillfully draw them up and bring them to the light. And thus, O our monks, great in these matters—though not of yourselves great, but by the assumption of the great evangelical form—it might be said that, because of what is evident, you perhaps ought to abound beyond measure; but in another way, by no means. For only foresight for the future time, and that too, constant and God-beloved, teaches the wealthy man to set aside what will be useful and necessary in the days to come. This we have seen practiced especially in the greatest of cities by way of stewardship: D where leftovers that are pleasing to God, the remnants of a blessed abundance, are stored up in gospel baskets and in hampers. These are not divided uselessly when there is no pressing need, but when the time for distribution calls, all that has been gathered is poured out, whether to satisfy starving souls with bread and to feed them in days of famine, or to ransom those in captivity—that is, to draw them away from slavery and restore the captives to liberty—or to provide a substitute for the time that has mockingly turned against the monastery, or to accomplish some other virtuous deed.
37. By some such reasoning as this, aside from many others by which worldly affairs are governed, and by the Davidic [principle in the treasury], many [index: entries preserved]
A talents of gold have been hidden away. That famous purse is also celebrated, even if Judas, who carried it, was not to be praised. Nevertheless, the apostolic council of elders greatly loved alms that were given abundantly. Therefore, such abundance was granted, just as in churches there is a great number of sacred vessels and other things. But to stow them in the bosoms of monks so that they are hidden away—things that are impure and hateful to God—who could justify that? We see such bosoms among us, swollen to an immoderate degree at harvest time with collected sheaves (to speak with David), B and this in men who are worth a mere half-obol. 38. For do we not know men who weave low-valued cloth and with difficulty carry home daily a few coins as the reward for their labor, others who repair garments, or hammer copper, or set up tents, or others who handle hides of every kind, and others who stir up the sea for the smallest amount of barley, and many who are outright beggars, and because of that, evildoers? To these must be added men who, having stolen sacred and other things, have abandoned this city because it was troublesome, and have turned their eyes toward this mountain, or another one around us, where formerly virtue and dignity shown, but now the opposite—for under the guise of an altered soul and of being saved, they have received money; men who are either worthless or sinful, whose hands today, as was not said nor was it fitting, are filled. It was not fitting, indeed, because since they were poor the day before, it is necessary for them to become poorer; though it was not said—for as it has been said—on account of the C abundance of hands, their feet are carried into malice, and they labor in things that God hates. The marketplace sees these men more often than the ecclesiastical assembly; they would more willingly abandon the monastery than the streets. It was not fitting for them to feign solitude, but to lead a quietly peaceful life perseveringly, neither feigning tranquility nor, for that reason, engaging in more agitation than is fitting—a point made in jest. So, do not be clever about spiritual stillness, and do not make it a starting point for moving about; D rather, in disobeying [the need for peace], let calmness take precedence over every movement, so that I may speak with cheerfulness. 39. You were ordered to remain, O monk, and thus to be a philosopher, not to wander about like a Peripatetic. It is more divine to be settled; you were not chosen to be a traveler, and in a more worldly manner you have risen and departed from the world and those who are in it. Why, therefore, do you return to it again like a backslider? You were planted where you were appointed; and this planting of yours is the work of the right hand of God, to speak in the words of the Psalm; and the place is a monastery; and you are a monk; and the goal is to remain there. Why, therefore, having despised these things, and having so uprooted yourself, do you frustrate your spiritual guardianship, and deceive the husbandman to whom you have been entrusted? Remain, send down roots, ascend on high like a cypress, a cedar, and a pine, which were happily created to remain always green, and furthermore according to the friendly fruit[s]
likewise spread your roots, that through them there may be a continuous state, and you may be strengthened into a trunk; it will bloom with fitting shoots, namely men who emulate your virtue, and branches will rise up beside you, as will stems and twigs, and they, while first blooming with flowers as forerunners of fruit, will in season germinate foodstuffs for the soul. Trees that do not strike their roots deep, nor rise toward heaven, but rather are destined to crawl upon the ground, are deprived of all these things. Do not emulate them, O monk, in crawling on the ground, like a thistle that takes away the utility of the best garden herbs; it is not even comparable to the caper plant, whose branches and tips are useful for eating, and yet whose thorns make rough places impassable to a traveler not equipped with footwear suitable for the journey. B Consider this law given to farmers: to steady the better branch set into the earth, but to cause the lesser to move, so that in this way, nourished by the earth as by a mother, it may rise up straight and strong and produce fruit. And you, persevering, as if embedded in the earth through the forgetting of external things, and firm with your roots, ascend to the summit of virtue, and prepare a depth and an outstanding height, which may be altogether immovable.
40. For what is more ridiculous than to abandon the business of the city at the beginning, to be removed from the eyes of all friends and your other neighbors, to ascend the summit of virtue, to be sought and not found, and then, after a short time has elapsed, to return and appear to those who are not seeking, nay, not even thinking of you? Late, O man, you had come C to repentance; with your purpose quickly changed, you have turned back your foot, and with no honor you return from where you had happily come. Not so the idle horse, pastured in the meadows, imagining the former pastures and the pools where he once grazed untamed; he manifests an irrational fervor when he breaks his bonds and runs to where he previously grazed. You seem to be unaware, brother, that the sentences which one has gathered while conversing alone with God, he immediately loses when he frequents the public squares; and that solitary thoughts are expelled from the memory by worldly ones, and that, as with a changing of the guard, the ascetic who descends leaves his spiritual goods behind from on high, and sets them down as a camel does when it kneels; then he takes on D common cares, carrying them aloft; he casts away what is above all and accepts the least; he expands his belly for the sake of his soul; he is often filled with forbidden foods, which the sober loathe; and for the abstract images that he fashioned below, he forgets the image that his soul had formed in solitude through divine meditation.
41. You have ascended to the height, O shorn one, in spirit, and have thus become a man of God, when you came to the mountain. Why then, rolling back before you have fixed your seat, do you walk on the plain? You had become exalted; why do you end in humbleness? You were heavenly; why are you earthly? You had been translated from corruption to life, as if by a new creation; why
then, do you wish to be dissolved back into your former state? You were translated, as Enoch was taken up to God; remain, therefore, according to the will of God, who wishes you to remain until He comes, in whatever manner one may wish to understand that coming. It is no injury to you if we call you a penitent with such insistence; one who is called a penitent ought not to blush on account of that. You removed yourself from the world. Why, then, do you wish to be numbered among the inhabitants of your former place, and so in the end have no place, and hear this mockery: “Yet a little while, and the sinner shall not be; and you shall seek his place, and shall not find it?” B But indeed, the minor monks seem to be setting snares for us even now, having distracted us from their fathers and diverted the discourse toward general accusations, so that in such a common affliction the words of both sides might flow away, if possible, in such a way that the goal is not reached. But they shall not achieve what they have set before them.
42. For, having abandoned these common topics, behold, we return to the superiors alone, who by their own resemblance to them corrupt those they converse with, and—falsely calling their way of life solitary, even as it is communal, by virtue of their being idiosyncratic—they are instructors of this same training to disciples who are naturally inclined toward corruption. I bring to the mind of the fully-professed monk that he was taught to covet the angelic form, to the point that he was ordained into the very person of an angel. C But is this not also a great cause for shame for such men, who even surpass an angel, as we learn from the most holy ascetic writings—if they are willing—by augmenting the brief diminution of the psalmist even beyond equality? Hold this, therefore, O non-living and, by your intention, holy monk, and [consider]: if it is fitting for you, being so great, to be dragged down from immateriality into some base metal of earth, and not even to consider that, as the ancient story immediately joined the most just thing to the Abii because of their slight regard for the things of their time, be a magnet of life, drawing to yourself base iron; or like amber, lifting up chaff—to which worldly things are rightly compared, as they are in need of unquenchable fire. You were taught, O monk, that principalities and angels stand by, recording your professions. Accuse them, then, if you wish, by snatching away, and write in the agreement.
43. You learned also that you promised a cross and death. If, therefore, you are displeased, do not bear a cross any longer, but a bundle—or rather, a burden of merchandise—weighing you down toward earthly things, so that you may also be perceived as a peddler of trifles. D For in addition to merchandise, you also exercise loquacity, which, as was shown above, you had renounced. Do not, therefore, take up the cross, as we said, and do not die now, abandoning the world in order to merit eternal life; but indeed live, and exercise yourself in praises and dancing and delights; be strong against everything, give this change of yourself to death, and thus, if it is possible, possess everything alone by your lot.
A Moreover, you were catechized, apart from other things—things both great and easy—to flee contentions, and anger, and clamors, and idleness, and license, and partial friendships, and arrogance, and quarrels, and detraction, and private possessions. Answer then for yourself; and speaking words regarding these matters, if you can boast as the Apostle does, boast of one of these commandments kept by you; but if you fear to confess, behold, I do it for you. Having heard these things, either argue us of a lie, or turn yourself to act rightly, so that you may merit the help of God which you promised, from whom you must fear to fall away, while we receive the reward of your conversion. I see your anger ignited like a serpent's. For you do not only hiss, and infuse your poison with bites, or jactate that poison more often from your mouth, but you also turn your bosom to destroy those whom you openly constrain, and against whom you weave deceits, intending one thing through all things in light and in darkness—namely, the destruction of the innocent. I say innocent not only B of him who has done you no wrong at all, but even him who has provoked you, and, to absolve briefly, who has perpetrated the worst things against you. For whom could you not call innocent toward you, you, a man dead to the world in your simplicity, ignorant of right and left, nay, of life itself, a man who, being almost defunct of life, has nothing of which he may be deprived? Every man, therefore, and of whatever sort, is innocent as far as you are concerned. As for you, there is no doubt, for the poor man is despoiled by no one. To what, then, will your anger be directed, if not to the harmful serpent, who can punish those like you, and who prudently does not turn out to be innocent toward you? And if you seek proof of your anger, it will be at hand from its manifest ebullition.
C 45. I defer for now the detailed condemnation of you. For you are angry in a way that does not teach you, nor anyone else who has professed Christian perfection. But where anger dwells, and a man sent from earth is taught to be vainly impeded by it, it is manifest that vile dissension has fixed its tent there, which more often precedes and follows anger; or, to speak otherwise, it is consubstantial with anger, and totally the same. For no great anger exists without dissension, and no dissension without anger, unless it be a matter of a laudable dissension pleasing to God. For this is mixed with joy in God; there is nothing bitter or irascible in it. To these two vices, dissension and anger, clamor is coupled, among the sharper and less prudent. For others, more grave and silent—whom they call magnanimous—do not manifest dissension, but hide the D agitation and cover up the compressed anger. With you, therefore, anger, and dissension, and clamor are in agreement. But where these three vices rage, how could idleness—a great evil, and pernicious to monks—be absent? And where there is a tumult of many and diverse things (I say many things, and not without cause is it called a multitude), by what reason will the work appropriate to the monastic life be present there? For he who lacks
it, this great monk, is dead to works pleasing to God, and is idle and ineffectual.
46. You have also, brother, renounced A speech and freedom of expression—that which is untimely, indiscriminate, or, to say the same thing, the ill-judged speech which the wise, in their classification, call "untimely boldness." For freedom of expression is properly the boldness to utter every word and to speak to every man with courage, in accordance with the canon of virtue and the measure of moral knowledge, regarding the time, the person, the manner, and the quantity; so that, just as those who hear a harsh word for the sake of God are blessed, so too is he blessed who uses every word for the benefit of his hearers, sparing no honest word, even if he utters something harsh, so that he may also say: "If I had not come and spoken to them, they would have no sin," using such freedom of speech in the orderly sequence of instruction and correction. And our great God, Jesus Christ, when He spoke with freedom, weakened the hands of those who wished to kill Him. Therefore, the confessors and the rest of the martyrs were praised by God, who Himself, in His vengeance, acts "freely," as the Psalmist says.
47. Such is the praiseworthy freedom of speech, as the holy initiation B provides a divine and legitimate boldness to be held. Yet, if one belches forth anything that comes to mind to anyone at all, if one opens one's mouth with every word and uses untamed audacity—having neither the divine sentry set in place, nor the door of circumstance on one's lips—such a one is truly possessed by a demon, and keeps no measure, speaking forth heedlessly whatever occurs to him. Since this evil form of freedom is found in this great, audacious, irreverent, and brazen old man, who would deny that from the same source flow murmurs, complaints, lesser evils, and causes of dissension and anger—namely, those evils which lead to blows, and whose fruit is often slaughter?
48. You have also renounced, brother, as has been said, partial friendship, when you were enrolled with the angels, prepared to approach God, who is the governor of friendship. Consider, therefore, C attentively how private friendship differs from universal friendship, in correct judgment. Perhaps you think that something paradoxical has now been proposed to you. For if, where individuals are concerned, it is necessary to shun the small thing that special friendship is, how much more so where there is a question about the universal and the genus! But the matter, my brother, is not so; it holds in this manner.
49. Partial things are, in every case, hard to grasp, and are not easily brought to a conclusion, on account of the infinite nature that is in them, and the thousandfold D fragmentation resulting from it, and as it were
A to come into knowledge, or to be methodized toward B precision, or to be brought into science. But universal comprehension is defined, and by this very fact it arrives at knowledge, and is methodized, and is fashioned, and advances toward what is beneficial for life. For these reasons, therefore, you have been questioned, and have agreed in the presence of both God and the angels, not to hold to particular friendship, which tends toward the indefinite and the limitless, lest, chasing the unattainable, you toil in vain; but rather to be zealous for the charity which is defined, which comes together into one thing, and revolves around a single universality. And I do not call this general, lest I descend into an impossible precept, exhorting you to love all men simply and absolutely in such a way, which is not easier, but rather C more difficult than the particular and atomized friendship. I do not dare, therefore, to call it general, but most of all total. Such is the love of God, love toward God, according to God, and in God; whom if you love, you will not have particular love, nor (what will seem more wonderful) general, but more truly total. For if God is properly the whole, through whom the entire universe, whether in the world or above the world, has appeared, it is altogether total; and just as God’s love toward us all (who no longer calls His servants servants, but enrolls them as friends), so also the love of each of the faithful reflected back toward Him is total, because its object is entire, and its purity perfect.
ON AMENDING THE MONASTIC LIFE
ν. The pious man, therefore, clothed in the great habit of God, loving Him entirely, and having in this way a total love toward the brethren, immediately after his entrance possesses perfect friendship, as being general, and not particular. For he directs toward God every man loved by him, as being the source from whom he receives everything D that he might ask. And so henceforth he does not have a constrained and particular friendship, being disposed only toward this or that person; but he embraces according to Him all those who belong to God, those in the cities, those in the villages, those in the fields, those on the islands, to speak comprehensively, those everywhere on earth, wherever he may turn himself; so that, being himself also by intention God, he might be able to love according to the total love of God, soon also [having] the general and even the particular in a descent; by the same reasoning by which the Lord who loves all, loved the nations and also individual men, as can be seen in Moses, most beloved [by God], and in the man most closely assimilated to God on account of patience, Job of the land of Uz; whom God must be said to have loved truly with a particular love, or more truly a singular one. Such also was Elias, caught up alone in the chariot: and that man who was greatest among all who were "among those born of women," and who was loved more than the others, and, together with the others, was loved particularly as an elect one. For this particular friendship toward some did not indeed exclude the common friendship toward all. Tell me, Pharisee, you who magnify your fringes so greatly against us publicans,
A know whether you repudiate peculiar friendship, as we have said, if you have heard our words. Whether you understand this or not, I tell you that a perfect peculiar friendship has been repudiated by you from us. For you do not love your individual fathers, and thus you preserve neither universal nor general friendship. For he who, from the part of great importance consecrated to God and standing by Him against you, turns away, is he to be said to love the whole, when he hates a most significant part? For if a certain part, and that even a random one—not to speak of a more precious one—is withdrawn from the totality of the kind, not in its entire integrity, it would no longer be truly called general or universal.
51. Come, let me set out in another way, and by a clearer conception, what peculiar friendship is for you, and that not far from the truth. The learned know how a part is considered in relation to the whole, and so too a partial quantity in relation to a universal one. By this reasoning, therefore, you yourself, when asked whether you renounced peculiar friendship, declared it to be something renounced by you, and that universal friendship was to be followed. But such is that which proceeds from the whole mind; for if it is deficient in any respect, it will be a partial friendship. Truly, I call that whole soul one which does not frustrate its own admirable and triple nature in charity, which does not lose its triple faculty when it puts forth the flower of friendship.
52. What do I say? A true great-monk, just as every truly sincere Christian, must always be prepared to help his friends in all things whenever they are in need; to establish and direct all the voluntary thoughts of his own mind and theirs so that they accord with the commands of God; and to concur unto spiritual concord and unto the vanquishing of the demon, toward which God invites with a prize, so that together they may receive the reward from God. For the sake of which, he himself first being ordered, and having concordantly disposed within himself his virtue—whether that which is situated in reason, or that which moderates and rightly corrects the irascible, or that which instructs the concupiscible—then, assuming into himself as much as he can the person whose love he pursues in a monastic way; having been disposed in this manner, he will be carried toward the other man, as he promised at his tonsure. So that, while he joins his own reason, appetite, and passions, now reformed for God to those of his friends, and has rendered his friend in concord with him, he joins the discourse of friendship to this monastic discourse. And then, as if strengthened by a perfect discourse with his friend unto perfection, he produces a friendship not partial, but entirely total, being himself wholly joined spiritually to a whole friend, or brother, or son. For we are all these things to one another by the grace of God, being children of God if we think rightly: first, indeed, on account of the communion of that which is according to God B C D
A in love; second, because we have one great and primary Father in common; and third, because we beget one another in divine things, if, conceiving the fear of God, we groan and bring forth the spirit of salvation, each of us helping his neighbor: where he who helps may be considered a friend because of the excellence of his virtue, and he who is helped may be ranked as a son.
53. You have, B O brother, a second definition of partial friendship, and would that God might inspire you to preserve that universal friendship as well. Which I do not wish for in vain; for I see your brothers being loved in part, not to a great extent, but perhaps not at all. The cause is the discordant harmony of the three faculties of the soul, yours, indeed, and your brothers': for you do not bridle the irascible, as we said above, nor do you compose the concupiscible, as the rule demands; for the common reason in us is disturbed; and you do not remember that brotherhood, and friendship, and common life, and any communion whatsoever (I do not say only the spiritual, but any other at all), is absent where reasonable equality and, likewise, freedom of speech are missing. For things that are diverse and unequal are always disturbed, unless they be ordered by a reason that one might call a geometric C likeness preserved in things dissimilar, and most especially, a spiritual and apostolic one, the theory of which is: «Are all apostles?» and the rest (I Cor. XII, 29); which you know full well, O great monk, yet you do not wish to put into practice: for, had you been willing, it would have been necessary for each brother you chanced upon to be placed by you as was fitting, where he ought to be.
54. It is necessary, clearly, to assign the man who is practiced in virtue to the tasks of the monastery, and to set to that work the man who appears naturally gifted to perform these tasks prosperously; and he who does not bring such hope, to hand him over to the best worker in external matters, to whom, being yoked like an ox that knows not how to plow, he may learn to plow alongside. And when he has learned, he himself shall be set up as D a teacher of those who work; conversely, when he has turned out to be an ignoramus, so that he breaks the plow, shatters the wagon, and is useless, he shall be ordained to some other work from which the monastery may receive no harm. Nor is the untamed ox to be preferred and more honored than that skilled and wise one, so that you should observe the latter being condemned and the former being sent out; nor in this way, but when you see him dancing in the threshing floor, not threshing—so that it is not necessary for his mouth to be bound, but that he be seen snatching up sheaves here and there, not ceasing from eating food, and turning away with his horns if anyone approaches to prevent him from squandering the goods of the monastery.
55. And it had to be so, as we have said; but it does not come to pass. Why? Because, being driven from the threshing floor, [cont. ]
A and running to you, brother, having chewed on the greater part and sent it into his belly, and holding out one or two ears of corn to your lips, he beguiles your clemency, which loves that he should bring something choice for your discernment to judge—or he performs some other service. The same thing is done in every other ministry. The one who works the vineyard is praised if he is good, but the one who is active against the grapes—who is blamed, I think, because he does not have mercy on the humble vines burdened by heavy fruit, so that they are dragged down to the ground; but the one who is praised is the one who allows the shoots to rest, having removed the excessive weight, and leads them to blossom more hereafter. And if he brings some stolen good to the Father, this is adjudged to the salvation of the one who has confessed the sin and from the beginning disclosed it to the Father, and so, by stealing the blessing, he is admitted into paradise, and is held worthy of such prayers as Jacob [offered] when he fed the great father and patriarch and won his favor. B Furthermore, the cellarer who cares for the community of the brethren is not held by you to be very great. Yet it pains you if he places the small and the great in the same rank; and if he persists firmly in this, you will command him to cease his labors entirely. But if his successor, having learned the cause, has procured a choice fish, caring little or nothing for the brethren, and if they murmur, then he who served you is crowned, and the community is rebuked that, being such as it is, it makes itself equal to such a great man. The same excellence holds true for other matters. Others eat, and owe thanks for their sustenance to the earth alone; but you [owe thanks] also to the sea, from which you receive abundant feasts, such as the gluttons of the world do not even have. C Do you command others of this sort to be enumerated by me, or not? I think you would deny it. For when freedom has been granted, you will no longer be able to take it away, when your face is cast down out of shame. In this way you will not be able to preserve special friendship, neither in the monastery, nor much less outside of it: for he who is not ordered within, will scarcely manifest order in external affairs.
56. Furthermore, my master, I am investigating whether the evil of arrogance—which Holy Scripture links with pride and says is hated by God, who is the Supreme Good—has overcome you; this arrogance which other authors call an elation of mind, not an excellent or divine one, as is that certain divine elation which is fortitude, but rather an elation of a boaster, a most vain man, which is not common, as the word itself shows, according to which meaning some consider it an overflowing presumption. D For the name is said to be derived from being carried (for the arrogant man does not stand still, as if he were being carried around); or [it is derived from] flying around and moving unsteadily, for which reason men of this disposition are mocked for their precipitation. On this vice the Stagirite philosophizes, as do his disciples. The doctrine of all of them is concluded in this, that the arrogant man is elate
A with softness, and become talkative through elation. And they call the rash man one who does nothing rationally; and—so that all their opinion may be explained—one who utters trifles. They confound being arrogant and being insane, living without order and living softly; and they call softness a habit of the mind that is cast down and asleep, by which the body becomes languid or—what amounts to the same—is so excessively confident that it cannot stand firmly, but is cast down by softness as if by a disease. For a man living deliciously is too weak to walk on his own feet. Soft men are never seen walking firmly on their feet, unless they have others on both sides B supporting and upholding them, some designated for this purpose alone, others spontaneously, in whatever place they may be. And to speak with the ancients, the soft man is languid and trifling, and the rest of such things are inseparable from that infirmity which are attributed to that man. I indeed believe you would not confess this vice, but the thing itself argues against you, as you do not truly deny it. For constant luxuries, numerous baths, those who follow and precede in a manner that is not fitting, and other similar things are proofs of softness, and consequently of arrogance. For it has been proven that arrogance is not absent from softness, and that both feel as brothers to one another, and cannot but be joined.
C 57. And besides those things which have been said, you have renounced your own possession in your confession with God. I propose for your inspection not only the acquisition, but the *personal* acquisition, that if you happen to live irreprehensibly in regard to both, you may be blessed; but if otherwise, do not take it heavily when called to the reward, if you are accused.
58. And before we speak of this, you must be reminded that prior to this recent comparison, and the possessions acquired, you renounced D your paternal goods—not that you were asked to cast off some single thing, as if these three names, flowing together into one idea—the comparison, the paternal goods, and the new comparison—were synonymous; but you have cast off three evils which, while close to one another, are different in mode and time. And it may be rightly conjectured that the paternal goods hold the first place, the comparison the second, and the new comparison the third; so that what you have from the beginning, when you began to live, flowing to you from your ancestors or some other way, may be called patrimony or substance; for which you owe no thanks to yourself, but to those who bequeathed them by testament or otherwise gave them. So those who speak correctly are accustomed to say. Or even "patrimony" from "beginning," for someone enters upon a struggle, begins a work, namely, sets the beginning himself. But "comparison" is understood as that which follows this patrimony. For he who has labored after an easy inheritance, he has compared, or—what is the same thing—has possessed what is compared: and he has it until, with his hair spiritually shorn, he also shears the field of his former life, and lays aside even his secular sheaves, as if symbolizing the hair, and the man truly becomes poor, nor does he [rely on] paternal goods.
And then, so that one who remembers the things of old does not return again to them, he is further required to renounce immediately also the "post-acquisition," that is, the second acquisition after this, through which he again becomes worldly and looks backward, being "unfit for the kingdom of God;" and he becomes a very pillar of folly, if, as you have heard, the pillar of Lot’s wife is to be understood in the Scriptures as is delivered to us, on account of the salt which has lost its savor, which changes a paternal brother, no less than fertile land, into a barren salt-marsh.
49. Since these things are thus (for they cannot be otherwise)—I indeed wished, O our fathers, that you should abstain from at least one of the three aforementioned evils. But a good intention often fails B. For many before the tonsure, as I have experienced, were as concerned not to shave their heads as they were not to lay aside their paternal or acquired goods, if they had any; but they embraced the monastic life like sailors setting forth to sail with a heavy burden, stripped only of the hair of their heads, but weighed down by the remainder of the yoke of the world even after the tonsure. And how many are there who stripped themselves of their paternal and acquired goods, and later, touched by regret, took upon themselves a new and most evil acquisition? Woe, then, to the man who completes these three things, who, having set aside two things before the tonsure, added new ones and entangled himself in this triple chain of sin unto suffocation.
60. And today we find among us some such C kind of men, who have made a business out of the tonsure and practice it securely. For they profit because they do not eat meat and are content with little food, and they do not fear the powerful, who diminish their acquisitions by exacted taxes. They plant vineyards, they cultivate gardens, and they multiply herds of all kinds, and while they leave the sheep of God to wander—those who are otherwise lovers of animals and act without reason—they do everything through which they might aspire to be of the world; and not simply so, but as masters, so that they too might be heavenly plants, according to him who wisely observed this, but in another way, as if destined for heaven, but rooted in the earth. And indeed, for Lucifer, his having dwelt in heaven for a short time profited him nothing, seeing that he fell from on high to the depths.
61. Since then this discourse is thus established for us, tell me, O most magnificent one, whether you have cast off far away these three things—paternal, original, and recent goods—and whether you are not burdened by a load; D having the one when you crossed the spiritual threshold, and having subsequently acquired the other. And this is likely. For first riches, when brought together, carry with them not a little inclination toward acquiring other things. For when someone who is lowly and, as they say, wasted with thinness, has entered upon the monastic life, he becomes fattened, grows plump, and expands more than
A animal scraps—which is not understood concerning meat, but concerning newly acquired riches. How can he prove himself to be a monk, and not a fat ox or a calf?
62. There are indeed some note-worthy people among such as these who grow rich through business dealings. Yet my discourse should not touch them much, lest, upon hearing of things already committed, they might rejoice as if they were achievements. For this is what happens to a man who is not diligent in good: he who is rebuked for his actions is only inflamed toward desiring greater things. Let them complete what is permitted, let them parade their falsehood, and let them allow the heavenly branch of monastic life to flourish, until either they bring forth the fruits for which they were born—which, as God wills, they do not—or, being cut down by the axe, they are sent into the fire.
63. But you, sincere monk, B take care and learn to gather riches well even after the tonsure; and this not absolutely, but in the sense you heard previously in the sight of God, and just as the server, knowing full well what he was saying, requested, and just as you yourself know perfectly and those standing by heard. You did not hear of a simple new acquisition in the monastery and reject it, but this was also added: "private," meaning that which is your own: lest, having misunderstood the word of Solomon, "Have your water springs to yourself," you think that C what comes to you from anywhere after the tonsure is yours to possess privately; but that you should refer what is fitting to the common treasury of the monastery, and reserve for the common prosperity those receptacles for the community, and, being subject, bring what is yielded to the superior, so that he may act according to the rule, and your dignity may not be enriched by a new acquisition, as it was said to be unseemly. For this reason, it was forbidden for monks to acquire and accumulate without restraint; and thus you will avoid many of the evils of poverty. For the misery of riches is manifold, accompanied by envy, strife, confusion, boasting, empty pleasure, and similar glory, of all of which the true monk is devoid, just as he should be devoid of secret eating, for which he who has acquired private wealth cannot help being accused. For he who is convicted of the greater D falls into no small suspicion regarding the lesser, and it is more illegitimate to become rich than to eat in secret. Furthermore, the monk who collects for the sake of consuming will soon add something for the sake of pleasure; for a not insignificant part of enjoyment among worldly people is eating; but among monks, it is not simply eating, but secret eating—or what is the same thing, eating voluptuously—just as stolen water is said to be sweeter. Perhaps this holy merchant thinks he has one saving grace: that he is not entirely idle. He, not understanding that "No work brings shame," uses this to justify himself—that no work is forbidden to a monk, and therefore neither is enriching himself, insofar as this pertains to working. He clearly deceives himself,
however, in such a line of reasoning. For just as the term "active" is accustomed to be used of praiseworthy persons, so too is "worker"—to which "idle" is the opposite. For even if both the "doer" and the "evildoer" (who is so called for that very same reason) are named after "work" and "action," nonetheless fine phrasing, idiomatic speech, authoritative definition, and noble usage have assigned them to a good and high—and thus divine—meaning, just as they have for "action," "work," and "cause." A
64. On these matters it is superfluous to argue.
You will not, therefore, O covetous monk—you who are illicitly acquisitive, most energetic in your perjury, or rather, not "active" and "working" according to God—be judged as such by those who have understanding, as long as you remain in that state; rather, you will be judged a merchant, an idler, a tradesman, a profiteer, and in essence a worldly man—and everything else rather than one who wears the Great Habit. You already know, I suppose, what ought to be acquired, and not even that to excess. As for me, knowing well the great malice of illicit riches among worldly men such as you, I add something new and say with confidence: it is necessary at times that you become wealthy and overflow. This does not happen, as it were, by the machinations of craft, but by the grace of God toward those worthy of this reward, who, possessing nothing, possess all things. B What abundance is shown to us not only by the evangelical baskets and hampers, and the apostles' net, which was "full of great fish, a hundred and fifty-three," but also, in the records of both ancient and modern authors, by storehouses filled on the spot without labor or toil, and by the prophet’s jar of flour that relieved the famine, and the small vessel that poured forth oil everlastingly; and further, by the miracles seen even until today. For in our own generation, in the houses of those who are acceptable to God, there have been experienced receptacles that held wine and oil in such great quantity that they could scarcely be exhausted; in which, I believe, the liquid would never have failed had this miracle not been divulged by those drawing from them. C But when the mystery was brought to light by an account of thanksgiving, it was no longer permitted to remain; rather, the mysterious event ceased along with its proclamation, God having ordained this for the good of those who had experienced the favor, or those who heard of it—or, more likely, for both.65. That it is not forbidden to acquire according to right reason, and to acquire further, and even to "over-acquire" through frequent addition, the great Job has already shown, whom his many riches did not prevent from receiving this testimony from God Himself: that he approached God more closely than all the men of his time. And it occurs to me to confirm this statement with a recent example. D
A We remember Manuel, among the best of kings; we know also the magnificent, great city institution, the Petra, from which, according to the Psalm, waters flow that are salutary for those who wish to drink in an evangelical manner, and from which they suck honey who approach it from the bitterness of this life. Those who flee as hares into it become lions, terrible to diabolical beasts. This blessed king, then, surrounded by a thousand cares through which he managed the great affairs of the world, was at times even concerned with the smallest matters. Once, at an unusual hour of the night, he thought to carry out a noble marriage (for the nights themselves did not allow him to rest while he was watching over the world and driving himself, so that he might scarcely—or not at all—sleep), and he commanded the wedding to be celebrated. The place for the wedding was in the Blachernae, from which the Petra is not far distant; the time, however, was the beginning of the Great Fast, when cheeses are consumed. When the servants wondered that such a task was ordered of them at such a time—a task that required a sufficiently long interval—and when they asked the wise king how they might fulfill his orders, as nothing was prepared for the royal wedding except the words of blessing, he thought on these things as a prudent man, and, immediately remembering the Petra, said that all the preparation should be drawn from there. B And at once he delegated some men. Therefore, the servants ran immediately to the Petra and pounded upon the gates with such intensity that it no longer sounded like the noise of modest men. It was clearly a tumult. The gatekeeper cautiously rebuked them, and, having learned the cause of the tumult, ran back to report it to the superior. And he kindly ordered the royal wish to be fulfilled. The event followed the word. Bread of every kind was prepared, unleavened and leavened, peerless in its whiteness; not like that which is offered later, but compressed. A multi-formed pastry. Wine was at hand, not only sharp, but also sweet. Fruit was perfectly preserved. Brine from oil, various cheeses, fish seasoned by the sun, some fresh, many in vinegar. Nor was there a lack of collected fish roe: as many of each kind were placed opposite as if they were reddening atop two small bowls; so many black ones were heaped onto baskets. These had been brought from the south to other places, and the Tanais had brought them to the Euxine Sea. All these things were collected together, and, having been placed upon mules and other beasts of burden, were carried away. When these were laid out before the eyes of the king, he was struck with a propitious astonishment and marveled; and the wedding found all its equipment. C Hence, that most powerful king was cared for, and the King of kings, God, was glorified. The holy Forerunner himself was celebrated, who, just as he had previously loved his own lowliness, so later loved the increase of the Prodromic monastery. To this was to be added a royal remuneration for the goods acquired; and it was the fruit of benevolence and spiritual judgment—a price for the things used up, to be expended, if not upon the poor, at least upon another necessity and the divine will. You have seen, therefore, a new acquisition, and one within the monastery, more worthy of praise. It is to be acquired, then, and again D our king—for it is evident to us that the one who ruled the empire of the Greeks in the year 1147 is less praised by other authors than by our Eustathius—thought to draw all the remainder of the work from there. And immediately he sent men, and dispatched the swift couriers to the Petra. And the gates were struck more heavily, so as not to seem to be the beating of a suppliant. And thus there was an uproar. And the porter, having mocked them more cautiously, then learned the cause of the disturbance, runs back, and announces to the one presiding what was requested. And he gladly orders the fulfillment of what was pleasing to the imperial power. And as the word, so that action: "Prepared bread of every kind, foam-like and spongy, exceeding white." And after that, neither the like, nor even solid bread was lacking. The multi-type dough. Wine at hand, not only astringent, but also sweet. Abiding fruit. Abundant cheese. Fish, preserved, and others freshly salted, many also vinegared. Nor were there absent fish roe, collected in pairs, shimmering with a reddish hue, and black ones heaped in piles; of which the north brings some, and the Tanais, flowing into the Euxine, brings others. These things were gathered, and, being taken up on mules and the rest of the baggage, was carried out. And having come into the sight of that king, for him they treasured a blessed wonder, and he rejoiced; and they provided everything for the wedding. Thence the great king was cared for, and the all-king God was glorified; and the most holy Forerunner was glorified, having loved, as his ancient nudity, so also
the subsequent possession A of the Forerunner’s monastery through him. And following these immediately was the royal compensation through over-acquisition. This is a fruit of gratitude and spiritual discernment; a reward of exhaustion, even if not toward all, yet certainly into a necessary place and one otherwise acceptable to God. And behold, this also is a monastic over-acquisition, demanding much praise. Therefore, monks must acquire, and over-acquire, and super-acquire, as is necessary. Otherwise, it is better for them to perish miserably of hunger than to be clothed in uncanonical property.
67. B Having thus concluded the discourse concerning monastic acquisition, and the remaining things which you renounced, I am come to set forth also that reminder: that regarding those things you were commanded not to have, you not only have them, but you even intensify your persistence and habit regarding them; while those things you were instructed to hold onto with temperance, and to cling to firmly, you have released, following the command to keep—not even here keeping guard over the deposit you made in your tonsure before God, who, as you know, stands invisibly present. Listen, therefore.
68. A necessity lies upon you, O man, to possess brotherly love, to be peaceful, to be gentle, to devote yourself to the meditation and reading of the divine oracles, and to do other things that no one of the crowd knows you are obliged to do. Reveal, therefore, your brotherly love, where it lies within your soul. For we are not aware of it. Whatever you desire against a brother, you do, and that not lingeringly, but in the blink of an eye, lest repentance forestall you and restrain your violent impulse when you are angry against a brother. And I say "brother" to include anyone who has successfully entered into communion with you, as if you were attacking him with a sword. For in truth, he would not be living. I know not what you attribute to your intellect regarding the brother, when you indulge against him your concupiscible and irascible appetite, unless perhaps when you hold him down. For then you expend your whole intellect—that is, the judge—on this one alone; while you yourself, being in no way offended, turn the wheel of your critical balance against him. But he who despises the brotherhood in such a way, how shall he be called one who possesses perfect peace? For the end of peace is a mind without tumult. And how do I not have tumult, when he who has not repressed anger and concupiscence—which he settles in this way? One, indeed, the most savage beast in man; and the other, a creeping evil; since he has applied his intellect to these evils: by the repression of which alone the soul, and through it the whole man, would find peace.
69. D Here, he who is practicing a change of location from place to place, as if for the healing of a passion, imagines that he is at peace; but in reality, he finds the greatest tumult, since he is not permitted to engage in external works—by which every wicked thought is warded off—nor in internal ones, of which the head is the divine oracles being meditated upon, and thus known, and, to speak inversely, being read, and thus meditated upon practically and fervently; of which, indeed,
A a fire is kindled, as David says, not only is the great work of it to consume all material malice, but also to light the lamp within us through the Lord, who lightens not only the prophetic lamp, but every man, lifting his eyes toward Him; and not the bodily eyes only, but before them those of the soul, which we know to be properly the lamps of the body.
70. Refrain then, O great monk—and from being called a hesychast—so long as you belie the brotherly love. You grasp at what is evident, you quarrel, you insult, you blaspheme, you do all such things against a brother. How then do you love such a one? And how will you dare to say that you are gentle, being such as this? For gentleness is the voluntary surrender of one’s own right for the sake of peace; but he who unjustly seizes the goods of others, I cannot conceive how he could be gentle. B
71. Why should I dwell more on such things, when it is possible to sum up that you neither perform what you promised to do, nor abstain from the things you renounced? Whence even the most prudent purpose of the tonsure is inverted in your case. For you do the things you ought not, and you omit what you ought; for a man of dual substance, of body and soul, you become otherwise dual: an angel in promises, and a man in deeds; divine on the outside, hateful to God within; neither having become God, since you abandon the path you undertook, nor the angel toward whom you are formed, nor yet remaining a man according to the truth; alluring to those who look upon your face, and to be shunned by those who dwell within; sweet to the face, and bitter in the depths! Most beautiful as to the face, where the eye of man rests, and most foul as to the heart, where God the examiner looks; C splendid in clothing, and corrupt within. And so I know not whether you have even lost the hairs of your head, of which he who lives evangelically loses not even one.
72. Regarding these things I am struck with wonder, when I consider what those who leave the world, like you, promise before the sanctuary of the most divine temple, and with what and how many rites; and what things they fulfill after the perfect initiation. For they strip off the old man, and the power, when they put off worldly garments; and having cast away splendid vestments, they take up worn-out rags, by which the body that is prone to desire is quieted; they are wrapped not in linen garments, but in that roughness—and, one might say, that which is of hair, hence it is called the great hairshirt—and whose goads are similar to brier, thistles, and thorns; D and upon each covering a spiritual hymn is recited, according to the rite of initiation, for the blessing of the garment, with the invocation of the holy Trinity. For one in the sacred rites is called the tunic of justice and exultation, another the cloak of simplicity, and a third the helmet of hope for salvation; another the belt of temperance, and of strength, and of truth; and another a symbol of a peaceful disposition. Among these is also the sign of the cross. All these mysteries, so that they might be explained, would require an angelic mouth. And then the presentation of the book of the holy Gospels itself
A is another very great symbol, signifying by the common kiss the covenant that all those who are gathered around, and the one being tonsured himself, make to walk according to the Gospel, and commit themselves to fulfill with joy the Lord’s commands contained therein.
73. All these things have their place at the beginning, when the man who is departing from the world pledges to become like the angels and is enrolled in the flock of the Lord. He does not keep silent before the one tonsuring him; rather, with a loud and divine voice, he declares matters pleasing to God, being initiated into divine things, holy in his purpose, already innocent and altogether immaculate, acceptable to the angels and to be emulated by men. For B the crowning hair of the one being initiated into divine things, who stands before God as a priest, is offered to Him as a kind of first-fruit of our entire body, by Him who, if one may say so, reared him from childhood and now receives him into a more perfect guardianship.
74. And behold, into the sacred tent, these hairs of the prepared man are brought in, according to an ancient rite, to be of some spiritual use. Thus, when the shaved one lays aside an unnecessary burden from his head, it is indicated by this symbol that the monk ought to fly toward the high heaven with his head and the rest of his body; with a bare head, as they say, to resist the murderous devil; yet it is not shown thereby that all bodily superfluity must be discarded, and that nothing else hinders man, who is endowed with reason, from being united to God, lest perhaps it be said there regarding the proverb: C "A hair in the midst" (7); and at the same time it is taught that they, although carnal, are to be cut in a different manner than if they were lifted according to the vanity of the Greeks, that they might not weigh down and burden; but he also indicates that, as it is performed with solemnity, to which the dark garment is in harmony, if someone had to be shaved to a way of life, and to be more worldly, it were better not to be bald in this way, but to nourish locks of hair longer than Absalom, rather than to deceive the Holy Spirit, being mindful here also of the robbers who, according to the proverb, "Egyptianize," who in addition to a strange tonsure also darken their faces with black coloring, so that they might not be recognized; and furthermore the ones recorded as Acarnanians, among whom D the Curetes bore nothing solemn.
75. Moreover, he who is tonsured is in another way entirely like blessed Samson, who was renowned before his final tonsure, and is lauded at that time with psalms, whether because those standing around praise his salvation, or whether he is being led to better things, this seen thing being left to the earth, as those who leave the earth by death. Many torches are lit, and—as is noted by the scholiast on the passage—it is little short of absolute insanity, differing from insanity by only a hair. [alt-version omitted] Vessius distinguishes the Curetes into three kinds: Cretans, Phrygians, and Aetolians. The latter, since they were wont to wear longer hair, by which they were grabbed when they were at some point taken by enemies in battle, the enemies afterwards shaved them, whence they were called Curetes. Some derive the name of the Acarnanians from the same source.
leaving behind the things below. They also attach themselves A to that light which is from secular darkness, a light suitable for angels and men who have chosen to live like angels.
76. Such is, as we have said, the beginning of the great tonsure, which we have explained at sufficient length. But when time has passed, as much as destiny shall allot to each, and the devil, seeing those athletes prepared against him, attacks—as he knows how to scheme—first hurling arrows and darts from afar, following his custom or by laying traps; then also engaging in manifest battle face to face and joining conflict without fear; then it is possible to perceive (and we who understand see it manifestly) how greatly those monastics who battle for God differ. For they, mindful that they are soldiers, enrolled by God, from whom they also received their name; knowing full well what they ought to do, considering what they were commanded to do and what they promised; understanding from where they have departed and whither they have progressed, that they are no longer earthly men, nor are they fighting against flesh, but in battle against spirits of wickedness; considering also what blessings are to be hoped for after victory, and what great evils must be undergone by those who have yielded to enemies fighting from on high; suffering a thousand injuries, they endure and are wounded, and undergo every pain, so that their patience may be rewarded. Sometimes, indeed, by the will of God, they are not allowed to remain in such a state, so that they recognize that they are (only) men, and mindful of God, refer the whole glory of the victory to Him. But soon, raised up and standing (for these, when they fall, are not perturbed), they inflict wounds upon the ethereal enemies in turn; and by divine power (as you heard during the tonsure, O monk, beyond doubt not human) they drive the demons to flight, pressing them so that they dare not return or rise up. C Such is the strong virtue, and the knowledge of the glory gained through it; for it is impossible for a man so taught to forget it and lapse into contrary things. Such is the temperate virtue, and the learning of the good through it scientifically. For one having learned thus is no longer able to unlearn it and be dragged into another state.
77. Therefore, after the admirable and great tonsure, accepting the memory and the service offered to them (for the sake of discipline they accept the external tonsure and the laying aside of worldly garments), and burdened henceforth with no secular load, they proceed in the truth of God, whom many have put on, D whithersoever they are scattered throughout the earth and the world, even to uninhabitable places; the world is saved through them, as they are uniquely and always intent upon God, standing by Him like angels, not caring for the world except to remember us and pray for us. Nor are they solicitous about food which the earth provides, as if through it they might again be reckoned among earthly men, since God provides for them, distilling for them the nectar of the earth and adding His own ambrosia, and thus, without taking any food, sustains them for forty days, and for other periods of time, as those who have recounted the deeds of God have handed down.
78. The same God also guides ravens to provide food for those who serve Him in such a way. We must consider who these ravens are: those who are manifest and historical are the airy ones, because of their flight; but already even the earthly ones, inasmuch as many of the ascetics are fed by robbers, moved by God, just as wolves are by the snatching of lambs, and sometimes even by predators, whom their predatory voracity labels as ravens—God orchestrating this also for good, so that the ascetics might have this good food—a merit drawn, as it were, from the unworthy—and those who bestow it might perform a good deed, however much they are able, mindful indeed of almsgiving, because of which the demon who incites them would suffer, seeing in them the flame of a good fire, and they themselves should not completely forget that they are under God, and that by this manner others might also be incited to a similar zeal for mercy. For if almsgiving proceeds from such a disposition and a life like that of wild beasts, as if honey from the mouth of the devourer, according to the Scriptures, how much more shall the same good proceed from men directed by divine law, and how manifold shall it be?
79. And so, in this way, God guiding them, the great monks of God are fed even through ravens. If, however, they wish to prepare some food at home, they have little concern for the earth (for they do not disturb it, seeking sumptuous feasts, like those who are still nursed by their mother); but gathering herbs that grow spontaneously, and evangelical locusts, and the fruits of trees that happen to be at hand, they fulfill the needs of nature.
80. But what should one say of the kind of goodness that people in the world effect towards such men, inciting one another to good, when things are known to all and have no need of an account? For they are so filled by them that they help others, pouring out their own barns upon others from an abundance without labor—provided by God, without fields cultivated or sown—just like that good manna raining down from heaven, and bringing every delight to the table, as much as God blesses, and as much as is sufficient and more than necessary. C
81. Where, then, is there any trace of wickedness in those who live in such a way, which they have abjured, as has been said before? What is lacking of those virtues which these men—and they alone among monks—have professed, those who bind the "yes" to the "yes" and the "no" of their tonsure, not acting falsely? In them, and in them alone, truth dwells; in them the power of God works perfectly; they behold Christ standing by invisibly, just as they saw Him when they were tonsured, so also in the days that follow. They remember to whom they have approached, to whom they have been enrolled, and whom they have renounced. It is the property of these, and of these alone, to fulfill worthily and irreprehensibly the purpose of the great habit, through the prayer recited over them by the Church, and to behave piously and holily while nourishing in their souls the perfect fear of God. Such D
A persons have withdrawn from every worldly desire, and from those who are kin according to the flesh, that is to say, from men and the passions to which, being near to them, we are almost consubstantial by reason of the corruption contracted through evil habits. They have renewed the man of God, having put off the old man and put on the new, who has been created according to the image of God.
B 82. For such a monk, the door of repentance is opened according to the true promise of the tonsure; the easy yoke is lifted, and the light burden is borne. In the one who lives in this way, the most holy cross, when borne upon his shoulders, would portray Him who was carried by the Cyrenian; for it lifts him up from the earth and fastens him with the desire for God, and it strikes his flesh with the fear of the Lord, so that he appears crucified in sympathy with His death, and raises him up to the imitation of our Savior Jesus Christ. And after this immolation, he shall rise again by divine humility unto life eternal; and having been seen by the disciples who love him, and having wrought miracles, he shall be assumed unto the Father on high, he shall receive His goods, and his life flying away shall find rest for his soul, as he who tonsured him had spiritually vowed.
C 83. For such a one, the nuptial banquet of the tonsure, so to speak, is set forth; for him is revealed the bridal chamber not made by hands, and the garment woven from above from heaven is brought, and all other most beautiful mysteries are adapted, the explanation of which is preserved in the books of the saintly Fathers, who established them by revelation. It is proclaimed when spiritual athletes are offered to God, and it is heard by those present. These things, when observed, make the community better; but when not kept, they injure the one who instituted them, and scandalize the others—not with just any scandal, but with one that turns into the ruin of many, into a hardening of the heart incurable even to God Himself.
D 84. Such are those who honor the divine tonsure, and are honored by it. Such are they who are in the mountains, and in caves, and in fissures of the earth, and on pillars, and in enclosures, and whosoever else flees the world in a thousand diverse ways. This mode of life is truly filled with a Great City (Megalopolis), the beauty of the world, the beautiful and sweet eye of the earth, where virtue is joined to reason, and reason to virtue; if anyone were to remove this from the world, the world itself would no longer exist. Everything good is food for it, and if anything beautiful is seen anywhere, it is derived from there. It is truly a paradise, not now irrigated by four great rivers, but by a thousand, which flow out to other places, into rivers gushing forth, sweet and full. Its bowels, which are habitable, bear great men who are seen as pillars of light; below they shine forth, and they reach up to heaven by the example of a life holy and clearer than the sun. A greater circle surrounds this one, as a circle, or even as a pole
A of the heavens, containing the outer regions, which are manifold in their location and varied in their life according to God. Before them lies the channel of the Propontis, stretching from its entrance up to the mass of the Euxine, and beyond. There are also islands enriched by such goods, as many as the Propontis washes.
85. And such sheepfolds are full of myriads of sacred flocks from the scriptural herd, shorn in various ways in different places. All these belong to the right side of God, the Shepherd of shepherds. For there are no kids among them, destined for the left, to grow wanton. These are sheepfolds, though in a different sense, being nonetheless shelters for "lions," whom no wolf dares to assault. The archimandrites among them are all godlike soldiers, and they bear noble arms. By what manner? Against the secular world, when they endeavor to turn worldly things away from themselves and from the supporters of the world; and for the most part, for the sake of the world itself, they lead it back from an unordered state to one well-ordered and decent, as near to a perfect life as is possible. In them, matter is no longer found, except that which is fit for God, the fiery Head, B as it is written; to whom those who incline their material heads and are shorn according to the Gospel are blessed and perfectly sanctified.
86. They have another matter, though not one so honorable, namely, that which is subject to the passion of the flesh; or, to speak more accurately, which they had previously, but having recently burned it and laid aside this material state, being resolved into immaterial substances, they are devoted to God; and they place such matter as food for the fire and spiritual flame, like a vapor easy to kindle; since divine Wisdom in the Scriptures compares the Holy Spirit to the vapor of smoke—to a vapor, I say, suitable when offered as incense before the face of God, when someone praying is directed straight C on the path to God.
87. This matter, through which the light is kindled, leaping forth from the Father of lights by its likeness to Him, I shall signify by the waxen lamps of the great tonsured ascetics; which, if there is need again to inquire into them, one might call nuptial, if one considers the nuptials previously blessed by the priest. For the wax candles which are then lit, and which shine forth above every flame, are signs of this fire and light. For torches and other pieces of wood, which one might mention, and bitumen and fat and every kind of matter from which fire is kindled, whether it be easily produced and, so to speak, timelessly, or over a long duration, do not emit a light so brilliant as that which the wax displays. For the others add some sadness to D the brightness of the light; they afflict the senses with odor and stinging vapor, and they befoul the brightness of bodies with squalid smoke, as the poet would say. For wax, when kindled, offers nothing but a most harmless light; and he who kindles the wax, having usurped the old saying of the poets, "that one must sacrifice to the Muses without smoke," can himself say that he is kindling a fire devoid of smoke and entirely harmless. Truly, for wax sends forth a pure light, a light which at Athens to the sacred and perpetual fire
it is said, it serves. Wax is also peculiar in that it is composed of many good things, which are collected into containers of wonderful nature—due to the alveoli composed of six sides, it serves, and so it is a sign of perfection (since the number six is judged by philosophers to be the first among perfect numbers); and it provides beautiful honey stored in its own alveoli, which, when pressed out and extracted, gives health to kings and to the poor, and becomes a good for all.
88. Next, the receptacle, or wax, offers great utility (I mean the manifestation of light), so that we who use the honey collected within may rejoice; and having much healing within from the honey-vessels and the wax, we find it a remedy for the health of all, and a second sun against darkness of every kind, which the Creator of nature has granted as a good to none of the lower bodies. For there are many other sweet things in the world, and many lights, some emitting light spontaneously and perpetually, others shining for a time. There is no other such double advantage as is found in the honey-wax. For what equals the sweetness of honey? Who can worthily emulate the light of wax? Therein also lies a great mystery for those who live according to God. For wax, when kindled for the purpose of shining, is consumed entirely, and leaves no trace of itself after the burning, neither ashes, nor smoke, nor does it emit any foul odor. B In the same way, the spiritual man, consecrated by the tonsure, as he has promised, lights himself to shine, hastening with swift flight toward God, desiring to approach the first light, and, so to speak, to be joined to it; and emitting no trace of matter to leave behind a fetid odor, but rather to be accounted by God as an odor of sweetness, he is raised up, as a holy fruit, not from earthly conception, but to the thrice-pure and thrice-holy God.
89. Thus do the Megalopolites judge the nuptial waxes, as was said, to be noble. Thus they illuminate men weakened in sight, or those who are altogether blind. Thus they teach men to advance from the darkness, the Erebus, the gloom, or by whatever similar name the inferior life is called, to the light of the monastic life, as if from earth to the cloudless ether; those who do not attend to this stand still, and appear to lead a life in caliginous darkness—not like the Cimmerians, whom the sun is sometimes said to illuminate, but as those buried in the shade of death C in more obscure and tartarean darkness. Yet these same Megalopolites, great in spiritual life, display the black color of the monks in their garments and other vestments, and by this blackness they increase the splendor of their own light. For they understand and do not forget (Heaven forbid!) that it is not for the sake of the color—to which honor was destined for Vesta, whose care was entrusted to widowed women, by the name of Prytanitides, not to virgins— D
it being understood that the Fathers chose the blackness of the garment not for beauty, A for that which is cheap could have no plea for beauty. Rather, it was chosen for symbols befitting a divine life.
B 90. They understand that to the monks there is a blackness of garment so that, as if through the night, the stars of virtue shining within them may appear. For just as in the night the stars boldly shine forth, so also in those who are sacredly dressed in black, the light-like virtue directed toward truth ought to shine out. And otherwise, such blackness is a symbol of the fact that the ascetic devoted to piety ought to be hidden and not desire to be seen, so that, being holy before God in reality and not in mere appearance—he may also have cause to boast that "In the nights I lift up my hands to the holy things" (Ps. cxxxii, 2), chanting that because of the hidden and uncelebrated nature of his deeds. Furthermore, the garment that is entirely black also demands, in another way, that the monk be heavenly in his virtues, and thus approach God who is above the heavens. For indeed, according to those who philosophize correctly, the color of the heavens appears dark blue; and they reason that it appears so to the eyes of the beholders for their benefit, because of the state of middle-ground formed excellently by the union of extremes, so that it neither shines with a perfect whiteness nor is hidden by a dense blackness, and thus does not hurt the eyesight of our body.
C 91. Do you hear, great monk, what kind of heaven the true word urges you to be? You harm those who harm you, but not these alone; you also harm yourself when you look toward those things that concern you, whether you have become black to the extreme or shine forth unmixedly. For it is necessary that things in you be disposed in a middling way and thus virtuously, since every virtue is a mean. Temper yourself, therefore, in a manner pleasing to God; and while being darkened, as far as is necessary, and again being whitened, do the one, hiding the virtue within you and extending a saving shadow—not one of death—and immersing yourself in most divine thoughts, and being like the night in your outward appearance, when, being ill-humored, you grow wild against wickedness; and while hiding from the devil, and thus attempting to go unnoticed by him, and also finding rest from laboring for vain things. For the night-like nature of the monastic habit, which the night that imparts sleep to the senses has also obtained, even inclines toward this symbolically.
D 92. Such being the darkness in you, let them sing over you the song, "I am black, but beautiful" (Cant. 1, 4). For otherwise, that which is merely black is not beautiful, since it is an indication of death in bodily infirmities. Sometimes, however, it appears beautiful if some ornament is added. Thus, raven-black feathers are placed before black wool, not simply, but when they are compared beside other black things. In this way, therefore, and by this measure, be black. Similarly, be white, shining with virtue, emitting the light of truth, having broken through the dense cloud of hypocrisy; and thus, bright from thence
A to those who behold, and in all respects approaching the true light, from which he who keeps near can in no way remain in darkness, nor endure darkness, even if he were the blackest of all.
93. Consider also that what is displayed in you as black, and as a symbol of death, has been set before you, so that you may appear as dead in the body, but alive in the spirit, and ascending above the earth and all terrestrial things, [and] from earthly things [that are] highly valued by those on the plains. For your life is bitter, as you cannot deny. You have therefore renounced all the joys and pleasures of life and cheerfulness, when you spiritually laid aside your hair; for the head is said to flourish with its locks. Remember, therefore, that you have promised to give fruit in due season after the flowers, of which these are the messengers; and that it is not right for you to flourish again with hair after the holy tonsure. This is also indicated by the discarded flowery garments, and whatever else [one] who lives deliciously displays, having cast aside, along with inner things, those things also which are for the surface. B
94. Do not imagine, nor let the thought enter into your heart, that in any way a pious monk or a beneficial layman is to be recognized solely by black clothing; nay, [think] rather that this great garment—a sign of virtue—is changed into great hypocrisy, a beautiful face into the mask of a comedian, and that the simple, and those who have not yet understood your intent, are deceived by appearances. For thieves and robbers, perhaps by imitating the revered old man, deceive others—and especially when they take off the hair of their heads, and the skin is shorn, so that they might not be snatched away by their hair, and under the aspect of a revered monk, they work more easily in hiding, and thus are not hindered from doing evil in the daytime; for at night these people have the deep night as a covering for hiding, C to which the one who brings forward the blackness of the habit is likened, while he steals from the multitude; and by [that] deception leads them to ruin, perhaps of bodies, but especially of souls, which that shadowy darkness of hypocrisy steals—not Christian, but rather diabolical—and which must be fled by one who is truly a man of God.
95. For if there is any likeness of night, monastic blackness represents it. Yet [the monk] is also commanded to have light, to imitate the bright nights of the world, and to imitate them perfectly, so that of this human being clothed in black, whose spiritual night declares the day by divine harmony, it may be said: "Day unto day poureth forth speech," as becomes a rational animal, and as one speaking rational things, D as Job says; and then, "Night unto night manifesteth knowledge," which the scholarly man acquires [by] not only theory, but also practice, [as he is] one who inquires and finds God.
A For it would be fittingly understood that "As is the darkness thereof, so is the light thereof," meaning: as is the depth, and the mystical, the hidden, so also is the intellectual brilliance; so that the night may not be lightless, and thus lead astray those who are not well-learned in its ways from the right path. Would that the monastic night might also shine with a pillar of fire, so as to save those who are returning from the intellectual Egypt to the land of promise!
In a similar way, one who contemplates putting on a cloud—he who is truly a great monastic, so as not to appear or be seen by men—will not simply be a stormy and harmful cloud, but a "bright cloud," as it is written. Hidden by this, the sun of virtue does not shine forth immediately, but as if dwelling within it, at an opportune time, it inclines its radiant head, "as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber," from which flows a rain capable of giving life; so that such a monastic, consecrated from among the laity and the nobles, may be able to imitate the One who is to come "upon the clouds with great power and majesty."
97. By such a cloud, or rather by a sacred nebula, the all-pure Virgin was also B depicted; in a way indeed most sublime, but gradually prefiguring the true monastic to a likeness acceptable to God. Thus, and even better, in the city of the great Constantine, the inhabitants, clad in ample vestments for these same reasons—and plural and better others as well—are adorned with a black color; they don this spiritual black, having acquired that sacred obscurity as a refuge for themselves.
And they might teach you, O monastic great among us—and as you yourself gladly name yourself, "great person"—with reproof, that you should learn more and wiser things, namely, that you will be a cloud surrounded by ethereal darkness; if indeed not a bright one hiding its light, if not one flashing with lightning, then at least one bringing forth waters by which the earth is irrigated, not only the sensible [earth], but also the intellectual one, that is, man, so that there may be fulfilled in you the theory of water in the airy nebulas. For you too will be able to make the earth wet, like the Thesbite, for the sake of God who did all that He wills in heaven and on earth, and gives to His own faithful servants the power to perform the same.
98. The Megalopolitans will also teach you D that it is not in accordance with what is hidden, plotting in the depths, inward-dwelling, treacherous, and thus dark, invisible, and incomprehensible, that you have been compared to a cloud, but rather in accordance with the unassailable and thus unmanifested nature of the virtue within you; so that you yourself must be light itself, but around you there will be such a covering in imitation of God, around whom are clouds and darkness. Therefore, you will not be simply dark, but the gloomy will surround you, hiding the light of virtue; yet what is hidden will still break forth, shining in another way, even against your will, just as it happens with bright lamps. Such lights does the Father of lights, God, love—namely, good works, whose echo, like crashing thunder, resonates from afar; whose brilliance is seen
A in the world, shining before men; and whose odor does not reek of sulfur, but ascends with fragrance to heaven itself.
99. Shine, therefore, with this light. Then all will run to you, and, borrowing similar lights from you, they will kindle them, and, as if in battle array, they will make that ancient struggle of the lamps more illustrious through you. Soon, in the twinkling of an eye, you will manifest your light over the Nicomedian lights everywhere on earth. Yet, when you shine, restrain that savage, fiery heat by which empty clouds—those fearsome monks—burn whatever they encounter, and by which, according to the holy Isaiah, dry grass is consumed by fire. This fire, foster with material worthy of condemnation and burning, such as the material life provides in abundance.
100. But now, let us conclude the matter very briefly. You ought to be likened to a bright cloud, not to a flashing thunderbolt, as clouds appear which cast lightning—and to the man who does not speak the justifications of the Lord with David, but multiplies blasphemies and calumnies, however he wills, and thus sends forth hail and coals of fire, to speak with the Psalmist, by which the mortal plague of kindled wrath is described: Thus my old city magnifies and displays the black garments of the monks. Yet it is not true that the black color is wondrously superior to other colors, if one takes away from the monk the indication of apostolic character, evangelical likeness, and divine brilliance—things by which, in the obscurity of this black garment, heavenly light shines forth among upright men and gleams in the sight of men, even if the bushel of the body attempts to overshadow it. For if one takes away this heavenly light—which is solar, or rather more than solar—from the monk’s black garments, then it happens as with a coal emitting flaming fire, and then, quickly extinguished and reduced to blackness, like pitch, it has already lost the title of a useful coal, and only by its blackness preserves the memory of it for those who see it.
101. And perhaps it would be all too rash to believe this one color, namely the monastic, is the only one the King of kings, the Lord, delights in, whose works are all good; and to despise the rest of the colors such that, if even one is missing, a man is found unworthy to be admitted into paradise. Which paradise is neither to be spoken of nor even thought of as planted with black oaks, and ebony, and whatever other tree and substance that has a black core, and the whole of whose matter is stained with this color; and that it does not abound in trees, and fruits, and similarly produced flowers, in which shines forth an excessive whiteness acceptable to the angels of God. And if some sophist, in order to increase the great and sublime dignity of the black garment, compares the blue sky, the earth, and the black sea (for these things and that are indeed black), and...
then, leaving the greater elements, descends to the very smallest, among which are beautiful mirrors, the pupils of sweet eyes, and all other things similarly adorned by God with a black color in a wonderful way. He who would gainsay in this matter those who rightly think in this way, would justly be judged either to be deprived of sense or to be seeking punishment; but whoever should agree, would be judged to be endowed with good judgment.
102. Indeed, furthermore, judging correctly, and knowing also that every monk is symbolically colored in relation to such blacknesses, I desire to see in him the solemnities of such black bodies (namely, the celestial, the earthly, the marine, the eye, and the mirror), B so that the true monk might be seen to reflect the image of these goods ingrained in them (both the many and the diverse, the natural and the accreted, of the world and of the individual living being, those things suitable for creating decorum or for adding distinguished beauty, or for other utilities by which nature is perfected, and art, as the imitator of nature, appears to cooperate). The heaven, indeed, is such because of the thousands of goods within it, and it makes the emulator of God and the celestial one through itself; the earth, not indeed unadorned and formless, but excellently fecund and fructifying by the celestial dew; the sea, which brings many conveniences to men, and contains everything necessary, whose function is to nourish animals, largely because of our own greatness of soul, and small ones because of the simplicity of the soul; the eye, because it contemplates God; and the mirror, because it receives the words of God. Unless a monk appears such as this, but is merely clothed in black garments, he is proud of this apparel.
103. May the holy black garment not be assigned to me for such a purpose, C not so that it might be compared to chaos, or to Erebus, or to any property of the underworlds, than which nothing is blacker (for it is a joke to make such comparisons); but so that I might escape the outer darkness. And let the aforementioned monk himself fear lest reproaches croak against him, bringing many black things in such a way, and signifying no good thing befitting a great monk.
104. But let us now dismiss whatever men skilled in this matter have discoursed about regarding blackness; let us proceed to other things. And first, whiteness is not to be placed among the vile, both for other reasons and on account of the angel of the appearance of lightning at the resurrection of the Savior D of the world, shining in a white garment, of whom every monk is an imitator, even if he is clothed in black garments; and also because of Him who is covered with light as with a garment, according to whom the same monk has chosen to be conformed; finally, on account of the divine brightness on Tabor, if not above light, at least flashing above the sun. What then is above light? He who says: « I am the light of the world », the Father of lights, the principle
of light, from whom and through whom is once for all the illumination in us, both that of the senses and that of the mind; to which light the great ascetic, the wearer of black, is fashioned, as far as is possible for man, and by imitating it, makes his blackness shine with the light derived from it and reflected. For otherwise, just as the rays of the sun, which darken the face, cannot immediately transform those who suffer thus into true Ethiopians, or to put it another way, into false Ethiopians; so neither does a black garment alone make true monks, but rather apparent and false ones. These, adopting the simplicity of the monastic life in place of a more abundant existence, gain this: they spend little to acquire it, while they gulp down most of it into the abyss of their belly. This matter is to be stated otherwise. The tribes of the Germans are described as white, yet not such as those who are smeared with white lead. By the same reasoning, neither does a black garment accurately define the monastic life. For would the nation of the Melanchlaeni (Black-cloaks) then have been a monastery? Therefore, one must kindle a flame, and light, and heat in those who live in monasteries, so that, like coals of God, being kindled, they may be useful for emitting a good fragrance and become useful for sacrifice, as is fitting. If not, they are impostors of a real coal. B
105. Thus, then, the white color is favored by most, as being the most common, because it is also the sense of sight, which is perfected by light. But after the white and luminous color, we admire the red, or scarlet; and no less, or rather even more, the purple, because it signifies royal power, both on earth and in the heavenly realm; all the more so when it colors the rainbow with infinite beauty, showing nothing gloomy in blackness, even if otherwise the flower of purple is said to be odious. Therefore, it can be adapted into a sacred vestment for those who are not profitable to the Church. Thus, then, when a man, being of the world and amidst its tumult, shines with virtues and rules over his passions, he is appropriately adorned with such colors, though not with simple black. And he himself, for the same reason, when he sacrifices to God, shines like a flame of fire, as an angel, because the flame is close to the red color. C
106. Who then would you be judged to be, O monk, coming with nothing but a black robe and having nothing fiery or luminous? This man, clothed in red robes, will be considered the father of those whom he forms in virtue, and will be accounted an imitator of God the Father of all, and for this reason he will not be deprived of his garment among the common laity. Therefore, the abbot is also himself, as you are called, and furthermore a monk, as being a man of a holy dwelling, just as Christ the Savior, our Lord, often preached. Does not he who guards the ways of the Lord wait for the Lord? He dwells apart, relying on the best hope, and thus he possesses both lands, the one frequented by the beings above and the one trodden by us. Does not he who waits, wait indeed, and does not the Lord incline toward him to such an extent that He performs through him miracles, such as many we have seen? And if this one
B who wears red garments, and through virtuous beauty is turned red, wishes also to escape the eyes of men, and thus hides himself from the man-devouring beast, I do not believe that even here he will be surpassed by him who leads a life of black-robed devotion to God. For the latter is surrounded by a dark color, like the black humor of the cuttlefish; but the former, like the squid, escapes the destroyer with a red fluid, as is told in natural history.
107. But since the white color still draws me to it, on account of the brilliance associated with it, I look back again to that sight, and for the sake of those who love to hear, I will recount what I myself saw, when I was traveling around the greatest of cities, and with me the holy church there and the rest of a very great multitude. It was a time when the Mother of our Churches, Megalopolis, was being attended by the Father of fathers, the holy Eleutherius, who to this day is the great pontiff of Alexandria. Around him stood other Alexandrians of various colors; among whom were elders—monks, adorned with beautiful robes as with us. There was a certain man in white garments, of erect stature, dark in appearance, but august and worthy of being looked upon. For a pallium, he had a linen tunic, resplendent as light; in its gathered bosom, a thick and wide garment, according to our custom, was drawn in a straight line to the left shoulder. He covered his head with a covering of long, thin, and white cloth, wrapped around, even as is the custom of that people. Those who saw him wondered at the man. For he truly stood out from the number and above those standing by. And I, admiring him, C asked one of the men belonging to that great pontiff who this man was, so tall and clothed in white. I heard that he was the archdeacon of the Catholic Church of the Alexandrians, and that he was highly esteemed by the patriarch. What then? Shall I cast him out of the sacred congregation, O most glorious monk, because he did not have, as I do and as you do, a black robe, but one whiter than snow? By no means; but I would welcome his prayer as that of an apostolic man, even if you perhaps shrink from it. For he, to speak evangelically, was clothed like a lily, or as a bright pearl.
108. Yet this appeared to us at that time, perhaps resembling the beautiful robe of Jacob, which his mother Rebecca had put upon him to be blessed by his father. But you, who are conspicuous in nothing else but black garments, why is it that when you perform divine services and draw near to God, you are surrounded by red wool, and white for the most part, and you bear a holy neck-piece, flowered and adorned with gold, ending in long fringes? And what is greater, when you ascended to the hierarchical sublinity, which you pursued with such great ardor, for what D reason do you put on a sacred stole, bright and shining with pearls and precious stones, which…
A a canonical right has yielded to these material veils to obscure the mysteries, and you superadd this whiteness to your head, usurped then for the first time, and you shine forth joyfully? For many without a doubt are seen beside you as bishops and also white, as far as the head-covering is concerned. This could be called a white shoot grafted onto a black root. Then perhaps you would love a father who you formerly detested as yourself (nay, even more than yourself), since by placing the sign of the subject upon your head, you cast down the black that formerly held the leading role.
109. Moreover, I proceed with a spirited argument to the types of that divine tent, to which—not to mention the vestments that are hierarchical and magnificently distinguished—it added some crimson splendor, and to the rest of the sacred rite, distinguished by various colors. Among them, I gaze upon precious and multicolored stones, although whether they shine with perfect blackness I do not know. You hear and you also know, as if living in the world, the carbuncle stone, whose name, derived from its likeness, does not deceive. You have known the name. You are not unaware of the sapphire, not clothed in a dark color; nor the ligurian stone, which smiles sweetly at those who look upon it, and hides its blackness. It is beautiful, according to the sacred authors, concerning the leek-green stone, which is rightly believed to turn green for this reason. The divine stones are of an excellent pure color, which the Greeks transform into a wine-color. Gold is tinged with ochre, but it shines differently and gleams just like the sun: thus we marvel at the ochre, to which we paint the very pigment of gold, and every yellow color, indeed even the yellow bile created in man. If a fallen creation has formed it black within us, corrupt nature changes it; such things are not to be despised on that account, unless it deserves some blame for a time, if it causes the creation to be of less value. B Indeed, it has some excess of reproach in due time, if it will be ruined by the creature.
110. One can see in the heavens certain clouds turning red, and others putting forth a white color, which do not inspire fear to the same degree as black and dense clouds, which give birth to a storm and snow. Do not become like these clouds, O man of God, great monk, but have a spirit from God better than when you were conversing in the world; love your blackness as is fitting; but be enlightened more by its light, and like a black battle-line, do you, amidst the collisions of an harsh age, like an igniferous stone, emit sparks by which a flame pleasing to God may be kindled for the performance of the evening sacrifice—a sacrifice, I say, ascending on high, through the power of your flesh dead to sin; and evening, because it goes forth to the light from a hidden life, and consequently in some way nocturnal and at eventide.
111. On the other hand, receive the black of your attire as a sign of a modest and hidden life. For you remember, I suppose, that at your tonsure you bade farewell to loquacity,
A choosing openness, just as I have already said, so that in firmly renouncing this in your earthly life, you might find that which is towards God. Therefore, hide yourself for the most part, extinguishing your boastful spirit, so that having received the reward of your illumination here on earth, you may not fall into the dark shadows elsewhere. Consider also how a great cave appears black inside, because the interior air is not illuminated, as the rays of the sun do not reach, permeate, or pass through it. And know, likewise, that the world of the black habit among brothers has a similar character. For when a great monk has donned it, he ought no longer be easily seen in worldly conversation. You, therefore, are hidden, just as if in a cave, by this divine blackness. Why, then, in this cave—in that solitude and habitation—do you show yourself to the world, acting as if you were carrying your house around? Why do you triumph, as one who walks about arrogantly? You act as if something precious were hidden under furniture so that it might not be seen, only to then reveal it contrary to your initial resolve. Or what was the need for you to be hidden in the first place, if you wished to fall into the eyes of others in such a way? B
112. The black which appears on you is like a shell, and you ought to dwell within it, as befits such a man. It is like a husk around you; therefore, you should not think that the good consists in being seen, but rather in being hidden according to the inner man. It is like the bark; provide, therefore, for the fruit, which is most necessary, and for the sake of which the bark was made. You veiled yourself when you proposed to be hidden. Why do you appear? You have departed from the world: why do you seem to intrude? Let virtue reveal you, and thus you will not appear of your own will. For when you are manifested in another way, you do not differ from those who display their wares in the marketplace. You have hidden the fervor of the world as if under ashes, since you are devoted to God; keep it therefore to be stirred up at an opportune time; love, therefore, to be free. You have been crucified, just as you promised at the beginning at your tonsure. Where, then, when business affairs or men call to you, “Come down now from the cross,” C do not come down; on the contrary, wait until, when your spirit is released, you do not descend, but ascend, lest you become guilty of horrendous scandals. Do not wish to lead a double life, you who have vowed a single one.
113. The monastic life has been given as a condemnation of the world, D not an enticement; it is a departure from it, not a coming into it; it is a life of one resting, not of a merchant. But for you, to renounce the world is to be given over to license: your “yes,” which you uttered at your tonsure, has not turned out perfectly, and your “no” belies its negation; all things are exchanged as if by a kind of antiphrasis, and one thing is put in place of another. For when you were asked upon the holy threshold whether you consented to no longer engage in the worldly vanities which the questioner set before you, you promised by your speech, and in a truly affirmative manner. This was—for those speaking correctly—a negation. For from then on, as much
as we see, you have adhered more to the world; and since you have turned the negation into other questions—in which you were swearing oaths not to do these things, but you are performing the things forbidden, just as you promised "yes"—in this way you transpose the negation and the affirmation, having, I think, set yourself to do this from the very beginning, and, through a sophistical dialectic, having feigned both your speech and your upright conduct through a worthless deception. B
114. It would have been better, therefore, O man, to remain in the common divine law as a layman after birth, rather than to be separated and commit yourself privately to keep a more perfect life, and then not to keep what you privately promised in the sight of the holy angels and God himself. For that first beginning, after birth, was confirmed in a different way, when infants, knowing nothing, were marked with the holy baptism. But those who embrace the monastic life do not do so unwillingly; they are well aware of what they are doing and are consecrated to God—to whom who would dare to lie? Truly, a man of the common people would be more acceptable to God who keeps the promises made while he was still imperfect, and could not yet speak distinctly, nor, much less, had he developed his intellect, than one who himself has thought, himself has established, himself has conceived, himself has expressed, himself has transgressed, and himself has forgotten the promises, when he had pledged to converse among the angels and to be made their equal. C
115. But these things are yours, and his, and anyone else's—not on account of a place common to me, nor indeed of my own people, nor of any who err in their mental state and disposition. For those who are truly mine, and—to speak more plainly—my private ones (and you shall hear me speaking the truth, O most holy and equal-to-the-apostles king), are as far removed from you as the heights of the heavens are from the earth, and even as the east is from the west. Those ones are celestial in good deeds, equal to the sun in virtue, inhabitants of paradise, refulgent with divine light, wealthy without personal fortune, many even in extreme destitution, on account of which they possess God Himself. But you are men of the earth, and you are choked by its hirsute thorns and perpetual anxieties over things of no value. They labor to shine always, ignited by their own light, who always strive to rise, so that they may ascend from the lower things to the higher. D When they have arrived at the midday (for it is necessary for such suns that this should happen), they fear lest they should set, lest they should sink into the depths. And they indeed accomplish this, with God assenting, standing firm as the visible sun once did in Gibeon, an ancient miracle of the judge Joshua, and renewed in these last times by a certain great Father, through the invocation of the name of Jesus Christ, the greatest among us, whose invocation also graced this present Joshua with a similar prodigy.
[116.] Thus do my great monks, those inhabitants of both cities—that which is great below and that which is supreme in the heavens—imitate the rising of the sun as much as is permitted, A in a manner which is beyond speech and beyond all intellect. But whether you have ever risen, I do not know; but since the time I have been with you, you have been crossing the earth in a circle other than that which is prescribed, and you are always dwelling in the parts of the west; you are ignorant of the rising of the sun, which the pair, practice and theory—that noble duo through which a man of God ascends to heaven—know how to produce. The practice B is entirely different from the rule of life that prevails among you; the theory is altogether disparate, and in every way different from ours. For what you do, and what you think, ordinary men would not even imitate. For since every monastic action concurs in imitating God, who is always active and continues to work even now, you act in a different way, concerning yourselves with business matters—from which the exactor and the negotiator derive their names—and not with that of the "practical" man, as we have already described. For you cling to solitude only as much as vineyard-workers to their tents, or one who cares for cucumbers does to his fruit-garden. And C indeed, that is saying much. Usually, however, you strive to live as nomads, frequently changing one place for another, where you may inhale pure air and in that way live a long life.
117. You desire the most holy Church, I believe, as servants of Christ and fellow-servants of ours; but you are led away from that object of your desire by the labor with which you are so often occupied; you abandon the perfect work and indulge in vanity; you know nothing spiritual by which one might be numbered among the angels, and you busy yourselves with gross and heavy things by which the mind devoted to God is dragged down to the earth and ceases to ascend. D Hence the student who comes through you departs in place of dignity, intelligence, propriety, and good learning, having acquired nothing from the ascetic life except a certain secular knowledge, and that entirely vulgar, not noble; for example, to choose a few things from many: how and how much grain they should store, and at what time and at what price they should sell it; from where they might find other worthy, or rather cheap, goods to bring back, and thus make a profit from it; how also they might take gain from wine. Grape seeds must be saved for those beg- ging for alms, and even more so the bran; for such things are good for such people as sustenance in times of famine. The local parish is well-supplied with the goods of the earth; therefore, those in it must be taxed more heavily. Within, there are wealthy men from various sorts of commerce and other sources; their rent must therefore be increased. A brother who tends the monastic property becomes suspect of profiting from it; he must be changed cautiously, lest he eat alone. The servant is immediately required to render an account; and whether he has nothing, he is condemned as unskillful, simple, or insane, or if he is caught in manifest possession...
[faded—but forced in judgment, and is condemned as either simple-minded and foolish, or even idiotic, or as having something else hidden away; and perhaps, because he does not give when demanded, A he is trampled upon, and so his property is forcibly distributed, not to be credited to the accounts of the monastery, but to the Great Father and to those esteemed first among the monks after him.]
118. After this man has thus been dismissed from the stewardship, another man of action is sought—one who supposedly does not condemn the head or the rest of the company, nor force them into anger, into weeping, or into emptying out their charity. The desired brother is found (for such a man can never be lacking among them), and being taken aside, he is trained to pay attention, to obey, and to lay aside the love of money; then he is instructed by the father to live now a life that is innocent and worthy of the legate of the prelate in external matters; B that every gain arising from God (for one must use sparingly, he says, and not treat fortuitous goods as one's own) is to be offered to the common stock and laid down before the feet of the Fathers, and that one must not lie, not even about a single farthing, so that, if he escapes the evil of Ananias and Sapphira, at least he may not himself be crushed like his predecessor on account of extortion.
119. These are the advisors, of whom the great Father is the chief. The initiate, having agreed and cautiously inclined toward an obedience different from the spiritual and necessary obedience, departs; and after he has performed C the things it is just for him to carry out, he returns in time and delivers his rotten fruit to those to whom he had promised it, and thus he finds the goods of his own soul. For he is not trampled underfoot, but is rather taken up as a most beloved son. And he, having become a participant in the theft and robbery, and having followed this path repeatedly thereafter, is enriched with wealth. Soon another, most apt for this discipline, emulates him. And this doctrine, frequently repeated, has filled the father’s disciples with others who are not degenerate. And thus perish both he and the others, and the affairs of the monastery.
120. Furthermore, this also is assigned to a similar D portion of monastic practice among us. He is wealthy, they say—that is, he abounds in fields, houses, cattle, and other things in which worldly people think happiness consists. He must therefore be enticed by those services by which worldly people are charmed. And it happens thus. The deceitful monks coax the simpler man and entice him; after they have purified him with warm baths, which are devised as a kind of sprinkling in the manner of a mystical initiation to bring him into favor, they set before him pleasant foods and drinks. It was not, as someone might say, the case of Patroclus fictitiously, as they say, but the deceit of a nurse. Most [index: entries preserved]
of those who entice men in this way demand that their guests owe them favors. And yet, having treated them in some way, they then use even spiritual things as a lure—those who are indifferent use their supposed self-control; the gluttons, freedom from hunger and thirst in the name of virtue; those with unsettled souls, they claim, suffer sleepless nights because of the instability of the flesh. They philosophize piously, even arguing that a heavy stomach is as ill-suited for sleep as it is for running. They put forward for their own glory visions, ecstasies, and even miracles, and other such things, by which a more pious mind, a lover of divine things, is made to soar, escaping even from sleep, like those dreams that fly out from the ivory gates A.
121. But when, having charmed the listener, they induce him toward the tonsure by the snares of spiritual persuasion, and he objects regarding the difficulties of the monastic life and says that for this reason he fears the tonsure, at that time they hold out other lures, by which they soothe the one who is anxious about entering: they promise him holiness without labor, salvation without sweat, immediate proximity to God, the gate of paradise from which the flaming sword is absent, virtue to which one can attain without being overwhelmed by a river of sweat; a summer that requires no sowing or plowing, a spontaneous vintage, a voyage free from danger yet fruitful in profit, and whatever other enticement there may be. And when they have drawn the man in, having taught and persuaded him that the highest state is not to be acquired by labors, and they have caught the deceived one within their nets with all his abundance, possessions, and wealth B, then they reveal what kind of men they are in their knowledge, and what and how great are the sophistries they draw from it. For having emptied the newcomer’s bosom and filled their own desires, they let him graze freely—not casting, as they say, the dart of virtue—so that he may not convict them of being impostors while he himself is upright, but rather that he might be confounded alongside those who are like them. But if he should happen by chance to be grumbling in any way, then they frequently object to him: “Who are you, O man? What is your virtue? What profit is there from you?” and they threaten to strip him of the goods he enjoys; and they hold up the rule and the august appearance, by which each of the brothers is sent into poverty by those who are, by right, richer than they C.
122. But he, having been stripped of the other things he brought under his cloak, and agitated in the way that it was not right for those things to be abandoned, and (so to speak) held by the hair—for the tonsure prevents him from being able to flee so easily from his captors, who have, as it were, cast him to the ground by his hair—he remains, and henceforth gathers all malice. And being in such bad condition within, he is allowed by the most holy Father to indulge his passions and to practice worldly affairs openly in the solitary life. For he reaps, and gathers the vintage, and grinds, and treads the winepress, and erects granaries, and again amplifies other things; [with horses]
he makes an end, some for salvation, but others for trade. B He busies himself also with donkeys, of which he lets some go for breeding, while the greater number he utilizes for wood-bearing; these for a small profit cart burdens for some, and for others provide fuel for the fire, serving them here, but for the master serving for the eternal flame there. He abounds also in mules, by which he is able to fancy his own habit as composed of entirely unlike things: for they depress a noble animal by joining it with a base one, and he himself joins a sublime habit with a worldly one. He nurtures cattle also, part of which, when sold, brings gold and silver, and the other part serves for plowing. He has charge also of other herds, and thus by a multitude of cattle destroys his own rational life. But it is clear also from the young farm boys he buys, for that too is a business. But for what reason does he acquire girls, and those more numerous in proportion to the boys, so that they abound excessively? These things, therefore, this man, addicted to sin, cares for, and whatever else follows, with which a worldly man is entangled. This cenobite is devoted to usury, he seeks abundance by every means, so that when dying he may some time leave his soul to the enemy of our salvation, and to the monastery the forbidden possessions to be consumed in proverbial delights, to be sure, and certainly not in the delights of the brother who departed unhappily, and was reconciled by the venerable father, against the divine law. C
123. In this way do the practical wise men among us treat the wealthy one among themselves. But the poor man they usually take in, not at all willing, and resisting as much as possible, provided he possesses a dwelling place similar to a hut, situated in a suitable spot; alas, what evils do they machinate against him and through him! Against him indeed, in that they do not permit this man to lead a tranquil life among them, but they despise, make nothing of, look down upon him, and inflict other things such as poor and ignorant men suffer from masters led by haughty contempt. Through him also, when those who cling [to the monastery] lie in wait, [they consider] how they may find an apt time to usurp the vineyard near the hut, or the little field, or the dwelling, or the crops, with neighbors either suffocated or subjected like a devouring fire, they lie in wait, not that they may derive utility from it, but that they may not be rebuked for their crimes by making a solitude of their neighbors; and that they may appear not only wealthier, but also terrible, and may reduce all others into servitude, if it be possible. D
124. Such are the practical men among them. But the rest, namely the vulgar sort, and those whom a coarser filth covers, he [the author] might perhaps take as material for his scroll, from whose character we are far removed; we are not speaking merely out of anger, but rather for the correction of those of our own [monks]...
A, if indeed it is possible for them to be corrected. Such, then, to sketch it out in a type, is the "practice" of these great, vulgar monks—a practice that hates poets, singers, and counting, and has no beauty at all. The ancient and blessed kings of old, foreseeing this, as it seems, and seeing that it would be introduced into the monasteries they themselves had built, unless they provided some wise remedy—as was right—took counsel that this illegitimate practice, harmful to the monastic life, by which monks do not render themselves better, but rather harm those who detract or otherwise plot against them, should be thrust with ignominy far from the monastery, and that the one which is pleasing to God, useful to all, and which does not frustrate its own name, should be introduced in its stead. This the royal providence accomplished. Prefects from the world were appointed in the great monasteries, so that the ascetics might insist upon holy works in private, while the prefects might be troubled by many things; and, as if they were bulwarks set against the waves of the world, they might break them up, turn back those who had strayed, and preserve the monastery, if not inaccessible to those waves, at least unshaken by them, B if the matter were to be kept for the most part undisturbed.
125. There are those who, in such monasteries, have of their own free will placed themselves under someone great who is able in a manner pleasing to God, and they leave it to him to act as a champion, and to do and suffer everything that concerns laws and judges; while they themselves, keeping the peace, take care of their souls, insisting on the one work, namely the fulfillment of their directives. Such are they, and as many as are like them. But those who come to us from there for our testing—the "great ascetics" who are worldly leaders, agitated in spirit—they themselves deem nothing to be of value except external things, matter, the flesh, and in a word, the world. Thus, being filled with external goods, they remain empty of internal ones; they barely take in a few brothers from the many, and, as if driving nails into them for the holy Church, they themselves are fixed like tent pegs, now here, now there; in whose hands, instead of a psalter and the rest of the sacred books, are the devices of injustice and "horned" sophisms. Their fingers are suited to these calculations and fallacies, by which they even deceive the simple folk. And this to them is total contemplation, consistent with the aforementioned practice. For it is not possible there to set this aside privately and that aside privately; but they are mixed together, with base things addicted to practice, and the knowledge of these things to a contemplation that is in no way ingenious.
C 126. For besides other things, such a breed is also hostile to learning. For this reason, they receive any other man who comes to them for the tonsure; but when someone who is learned, a student of letters, imbued with wisdom, and full of the goods that flow from it, arrives at their thresholds—and they hear of this—they are at once filled with rage with all their might. Those who, taking up anger as their weapons, for their own part... D
A are unable to repel such a man like Laestrygonians from the threshold, they nevertheless attack him with insults instead of stones. And determining that a man of letters is useless to them (for they say the monastery has no need of men of letters), they open wide the gates to the uncultured, and allow them to dwell within the holy abodes, having sent far away the disciples of the Lord who, instructed in the Gospel, might bring forth new and old things into the kingdom of heaven. For they do not desire men from the workshops, from the fields, nor the crowds that fight with their fists, that wander about, that sell their hair for a morsel of bread B—people who covet the thread—but rather they think that the city which is open to us is one they ought to seek, and in it acquire the right of citizenship because of the wisdom, which teaches that human and divine things are united to God, by which men rightly and perfectly adhere to Him. But they themselves prefer ignorance and true insanity, perhaps aiming at that saying: "Because I have not known literature, I will enter into the mighty works of the Lord," and, poorly understanding the word of David, they often even utter with their lips, from the following verses: "The unlearned disciples," nor do they immediately add that which follows: "You have made learned, O Christ God."
127. Tell me, O contemplative monk, seeing that you are an illiterate man C (but why do I extend my speech in vain to you?), at least tell me, you who have learned a few things (for there is some knowledge in you), and who, in addition, live the life as we have described it—whom can you instruct in the good, as the Apostles do? Or will you indeed teach, but not in the way that God loves? As you will teach all other things, yet not how the monastery is to be kept. You teach your disciple to wander frequently along the public roads, to look inside the gates that are open and ready for those who gaze, to join with any layman for the sake of hospitality, to know perfectly the business of the marketplace, to become accustomed to baths which he did not frequent before, to taste wines, which are pleasant to the taste and which are not—and this often not for simple enjoyment, but so that he who until now had remained ignorant D of wine and its scent may now know it to serve you, the great Father. Furthermore, you teach him to fix his eyes upon things, to speak with boldness, to contradict, to be insolent, and to fight with insults—all these things being contrary to what you promised. You permit him to lift his hand toward nothing holy, and to use a staff—or rather a rod of iron—not for paternal guidance, but for the sake of plunder and evil.
128. Such are the things you will teach in return, O illiterate monk, things contrary to those which you yourself promised and pledged to keep.
A Since you are not a man of practice (for this is a divine expression, and one not at all befitting you), but rather a negotiator and a merchant; and since you are—I will not say a contemplative, but—a spectator of the forum, and that most frequently, as you neither take care of the nature of your speech nor of your deeds, nor do you deliberate on theology, nor reform the character of your disposition; you cast aside all books wherever they may fall, so that they might remain for you solitary and silent, and not be an impediment to those who see them; you distract your senses, which the words of God prohibit, and which I believe you therefore shut away and reject, lest a voice heard from them in a wondrous way might accuse your deeds that are contrary to them. And why do I say reject? You sell them, and you change this good into profit, as if you had heard the evil one crying out to you: B “Sell what books you have, and having distributed them as you wish, come, follow me.” By this discipline you seem to judaize, you who, though unable to sell this substantial and supersubstantial Word of God, hand over his words to negotiators for a price that is by no means fitting, but indeed paltry; just as bondmen and thieves, struck by fear, esteem precious and high-value persons and wealth as of little worth. Woe is me! Why, O illiterate man, have you made the library of the monastery equal to your own understanding? Why, you who do not know letters, have you emptied it of the instruments for teaching? Let the precious volumes be gathered in it: someone will come after you, either one instructed in letters or one desirous of learning, who, spending time in it, will be wiser from the very beginning; and another, fearing total ignorance, will find what he desires in the storehouse of books. And for what reason do you not attempt this? And you, having entered as a man of plain ignorance, why do you not desire to apply yourself to studies? C And when you have tasted of the hidden knowledge, and, as someone might say, the invisible, because it does not yet shine, you bring it into the light, and you make yourself—from unworthy, worthy; from insane, wise; from a mere human, a reasonable human, or in some other way endowed with reason? Learn, O man; and then either write or speak; so that men may congratulate you on your writings, when your book shall proceed into good memory, so that men may remember your discourse, whether it be a sententia or an interpretation. Let it also be said of you: Speak, old man, and let God, who gives wisdom and understanding, be praised through you. But if this good does not appear in you, nor an excellent practice, it remains that when you die you should lie as a common layman, or perhaps not even like him, since he neither stood before God by the covenant which you promised, D nor was he enrolled among monks as you were. 129. Know also that, while you are clothed in the divine rags by which a true monk is adorned, if you do not act according to this, but are occupied with profitable things, and consequently with vile, carnal, worldly, and—in a word—secular things, you are not living as a monk in a spiritual sense.
A But to speak more clearly, and to put it in a more laborious way, consider the case of a base artisan who, in the midst of the lowly tasks through which his fine garment might be soiled or worn away, dresses himself in rags, and thus carries out his craft more profitably. See, O great and humble one, what a monk is! And since you have not known him, neither by personal experience nor from a book (for how could you, since when you see it open you loathe it, and suppose that you are gazing into an abyss gaping before you?), hear it instead from a discourse not unlike the sacred "timbrels."
150. A monk is a citizen of heaven; for he does not dwell upon the earth, nor is he entangled with earthly affairs. He is ethereal in his manner of life, one who walks on air, surpassing the things of earth. He is king of the whole world, in that he is fashioned after the image of God, the King of kings—an image which all human beings are bound to preserve, and which he himself is bound to uphold B even more than others—remembering that when he was consecrated by tonsure, he was invited to this: that he might renew his likeness, defiled by worldly sweat, unto God once again through monastic works. A monk is also a painter of perfect virtue, according to which the souls of those who behold him are to be shaped. These he will depict toward perfection, if he has been perfectly instructed in this art, if he has learned to grind the spiritual colors, to mix them, to distinguish them, to arrange them with care, and to measure them, just as a painter knows how to compose them skillfully. Such is a man of learning, or of invention through practice; C one of these the monk obtains through wisdom, and the other through true practice, through which his eyes are opened (as happened to David) to understand the wondrous things of God, and from which come the incomprehensible mysteries of His wisdom. Without these, a great monk would be neither a painter pleasing to God, nor a true monk.
151. Furthermore, a monk is a judge, judging those who are adversaries; and judgment is the separation of soul from body, just as it has been decreed that what is composite in man must die. And this separation is held to be the work of philosophy, the goal of which once was to divide the body and soul that were united, and then to join together what had been divided; or, which is the same thing, to put to death that which was not living rightly, D and to bring back to life that which was dead. Whether a monk who boasts of his simplicity in not caring for letters, nor shining with the merit of things done excellently, will accomplish this—I do not know whether he will do so—such that he becomes a wise and holy judge, not judging according to laws that crawl upon the ground, but according to those written by the finger of God upon the fleshy heart, and in a manner similar to God who writes. But then—what a judgment the crowd of judges among us will deliver! For those who have heard Him have not learned that they themselves are judges, and, straining to be no longer under judges, they transform themselves—otherwise hypocrites—into condemners (if one may call them that). They do not fear to condemn anyone, after the example of those who were deemed worthy to judge the twelve tribes of Israel.
ON AMENDING THE MONASTIC LIFE
A 132. But the discourse shall reveal this more clearly as it proceeds. We, having returned to the definition of the monastic life, say that the monk is of the world, and therefore above the world. If, however, he is assimilated to worldly things, in what way will he be correctly called "above the world"? And for what reason would he—who is supposedly above the world—not become a laughingstock if he yet stands in need of the world? It is a thing to be reproved, where a man of the world is needed, like salt in need of insipid salt. But as for the monk, just as with every other man, it is reason that adorns him. You must seek, then, O most magnificent one—to address you according to your great habit, that through it you might become more "adorned"—for that reasoned discourse. For just as certain things are appropriate for certain bodies and circumstances, so too for true men—among whom is the true monk—there is nothing else but reason combined with active virtue. Having fallen away from this from the beginning, you who are ignorant of both letters and action, love in the second place those who are unlike you. And thus be in some way wise yourself (for it is a kind of wisdom to love the wise), and do not despise them excessively and impudently, having taken the title of "learned man" as an occasion for great injury. But if you are not a skilled man, nor do you love those who are, and you possess no ornament from your actions, reflect upon what rank among men you have attained. For certainly it is not among the praiseworthy (to say nothing harsher)—but this is not at all new, that a man is puffed up by nothing other than the self-love which nature has implanted in most men.
133. Further, to not think—but rather to judge with full assurance—that no one else is above you, and that you are not even second to anyone, to what C madness or arrogance shall I attribute this? For a sailor does not presume to manage the army's formation, and a soldier would be ashamed to be called a sailor; he who is devoted to the cultivation of fields does not boast of the builder's art; and he who builds confesses his ignorance of agriculture. And who has ever boasted himself a master of things he has not learned? No smith, no painter, no lyre-player, nor anyone else. And this is not all; but such men, when there is opportunity, admire other craftsmen who are like themselves, even if they are not very zealous in matters of great importance. You, however, being conspicuous neither in deeds nor in words, desire to be set before everyone; you choose to act, yet are unable to, and having fallen away completely from this, you now make nothing of discourse—nay, you cast it out of your life like refuse from a splendid house. Therefore, repelling all the learned, and condemning wisdom itself as proud and arrogant, you repel even the D high priests. Scarce marked by the tonsure, as a sheep of God assigned to the right side—not with the goats—you soon rise up against them with horns; and you no longer use sheep's horns, but, as if you were a black-skinned elephant, you strive before all else to carry off a vain victory over the superior order of men, so that in one leap, without labor, you might surpass the rest. Nor do you cease to bear arms against the ministry of the high priesthood, which is what makes a man like to God, which sanctifies all in God, which exists in God, and which is immediately after God the greatest thing in the world. For you are not ignorant that the high priest of our salvation
A reckons those who are called to be worthy, but not a lay-brother, nor even any monk at all.
134. Look up to the episcopate, if you are able and can, and if you happen to be placed in some post, observe and carefully examine what a high priest is. From the high priest you have whatever you possess. From that source it is permitted to you to minister to God in the liturgy. His authority is superior to yours. You have an obligation to keep for Him the good things given to you; for what is said by way of the gospel is said to all, as it is written. He also possesses many things that you, who are tonsured, lack. He anoints spiritually, consecrates to God, is an apostolic herald, and is instructed by canon law to exercise his manifold rule openly; he goes about seeking whom he may teach, and is compelled to accomplish this. You, however, have been ordered to remain differently, and to apply yourself as it were to one task. He has been ordained to judge, and therefore endures many things while he presides over the tumult of affairs and intrigues. But you, what you are not permitted to do, can you not say with confidence? He is placed there to vindicate justice, he cries out, he has no rest like a laborer; in the twinkling of an eye he rises if men in the marketplace are being subverted in any way by seculars. In a word, a bishop is vain who shuts himself away, rests in solitude, and cares nothing for the communion. For soon you hear from everyone: "Why then does he exercise the episcopate and not hide himself like the monks?"
135. Here is a manifest error of the monks. C For monks who cast their eyes toward these things, as I suppose, and who consider the sacred dignities, seeing in them nothing but glory, outward show, and the magnificence of life, pursue the episcopate bitterly, so that by this way they may emerge from the spiritual hole of the rock, beloved by those who contemplate God as Moses did; and leaving the nearby cavern, they walk boldly in the ways; they return to their former state without shame, neither summoned nor found where they were once hiding. For most are not even known by name, but with one leap they seize the encountered fortune, not in order to multiply their virtue by adding the priesthood to their ancient monastic goods, but in order to withdraw from their old goods—as being more burdensome—if they had anything above the world; or to draw away the opulence of the episcopate, as if it were not possible for a man who puts his hand to common affairs to follow perfect virtue.
136. Then indeed one may see the most ridiculous thing among them. For those who previously from a wooden hut and from nearby solitude were hurling darts against the bishops, now, being armed against monks of the same color, not only shoot from afar, but they wound or kill, or drive them from the monastery,
A not acting according to the canons, but abusing their episcopal dignity more savagely and fiercely. And those who in the monastic habit used to flatter princes, now cannot bear to be what they were, but are carried away by bitter fury: outwardly they address with sweet words the monks of the great habit, and as many as are revered among the lesser, but in their hearts they are turned away. Then it can be seen or said that virtue creates opposition to virtue, if indeed any virtue remains in them; and that the like does not rejoice in its like. Among them occurs this frequent questioning: "Why, being an old man yourself, are you soft, yet you press heavily upon those who are like you?" And from the other side this answer: "I am a bishop." Then only, as if in a brief reflection, they judge the pontificate to be superior to the monastic life, having previously deceived justice itself. Then the holy man, being twofold—that is, bishop and monk—forgetting what he used to think, now cries out: "What have we in common with a bishop?" He argues that the bishop is everything, both among monks and among all others; and boasting of the name of bishop, he solemnly consecrates that name to God, who inspects, sees, and examines all things, showing that malice is for the most part harmful to himself.
137. But for now, O still humble monk, before you even ascend to the height of the episcopacy, why in the world do you pretend to avoid the high priest who is set over you without any contradiction? Why do you flee from him? Why do you fear him? His yoke is light for you. Why then do you cast it off, having placed it upon an unruly neck? If it is heavy, be patient. Where is your patience, which you promised stood before God and his angels, and promised it even unto death? But he offends me with harsh words: do not "kick against the goad," B as the proverb counsels you. Walk straight on the path. What then? Does he press upon you too often? Endure it, then; and say so often, as a song translated for your use: "All men crush me, and no one is crushed." C To which sentiment the vessel of Anaxarchus is referred; and having thus obtained labors, you will find blessedness. Let there be for you, too, a "thorn in the flesh" sent from God, as it was for the apostle. And if you wish, add also what follows. for when you despair, you will surely hear that word: "My grace is sufficient for you," from whichever side you may hear it. You will be accused if, out of arrogance, without a divine command, you have crushed your own goad; or, to speak more correctly, it will be permitted to you otherwise, through patience, with the grace of God, to crush such a goad. For who will not overwhelm with stones the high priest who rages against the men of God? Who is in command, who is in power? What then? Shall the king D
A grow drowsy, upon whom you have such heavy grievances? The greatest of all, the whole of creation, will fight alongside you against him who treats you unjustly: fire will be kindled against him, he will be overwhelmed by the flood, the waves of the sea will rage against him, and every evil will come upon him.
138. These things would all come to pass for you, if you had suffered these evils for the sake of the truth, which is solemnly observed. But with you, these are empty pretenses, the wrappings of a wicked mind, and delusions of the ears. In truth, when moved by spite and pride, you presume to be numbered among the bishops. You consider it an intolerable injury when you hear that you are less well-known than the pontiff. You cannot bear that he should be praised more than you; you do not tolerate him being celebrated and placed after kings. You think it a disgrace to bow your head to the pontiff; you judge it intolerable if you must go out to meet him when he comes to you. You deem it an indignity if you must rise from your chair before him; and when you are neglected, you die of rage. You fear lest judgment should be exercised concerning your sins, or that you might otherwise fall into condemnation; and therefore you are mad in a wonderful way, striving to cast him out and to substitute for him one chosen by you. Thus you fall into uncertainty B as if agitated by the love of harlots, or as if you are receiving the one into the episcopacy from primary matter, and for a short time contemning the one, you admit the other; you love and you hate as the counsel of your soul desires, and from this you establish many fathers who are neither natural nor spiritual.
139. Wherefore, I ask you, wise monk, if you act in this way against the bishop who is near and a neighbor, whom the delimitation of the canons has placed over you, what will it be concerning another who corrects you spiritually? Or whom will you choose for yourself? What more will the pontiff have? He rejects you, if he wishes, he who has been taken up by you by adoption as a son. But if you [reject] your pontiff, what is the difference between you and him? He who, as a son, speaks justice to a father and contests with him, is deservedly rebuked. But to reject him, no one would dare even with their mouth. Yet you, a lesser father, deny the grandfather rightly so called. You desire to be considered like Melchisedech, longing to be without a father; woe to you, parricide monk, a king who does not feed. C
140. But I dismiss you, abandoning the spiritual yoke, and pursuing the errors beloved by you, because they cannot be reproved, as the great Solomon says. And what kind of person, then? One who is presumptuous, thinking vain thoughts, seeking not to be condemned for wicked deeds that appear notable, praying for all, even for his enemies, but refusing the commemoration of the high priest alone within the oblation, yet not attributing this to hatred; one with an unbridled tongue, caring nothing for boldness, not temperate, if the words spoken above, or others before them, are to be cited. For since you watched us in the manner of a raven, you cried out some things, and among them this: "Behold, I am ready," so that you might depose against the metropolitan. You have confessed yourself to be a vomiter in the dialogue
and let the name be set down for you as a brilliant epithet. But I dismiss you thus, casting you back onto your own vomit, so that it might be clear even in this way that you have returned to your ancient vomit, from which you ought to have abstained, as the tonsure commanded. B
141. Again, however, I turn the discourse toward a definition of the monastic life. A monk is, among other things, also a herald of God. But what good and God-befitting thing will an unlettered man proclaim, whom the discourse was considering just a short while ago? Unless, perhaps, only this: "Wash, father," and that: "Bless the hot water." And again, the true monk is he who, forming—or rather, re-forming—his soul in solitude, understands all the works of the Lord. And this understanding embraces both monastic theory and practice. For understanding, being a rational virtue and arriving at the same point as wisdom, makes manifest theory; while "all [His] works" signifies the practice. For one who has the practical virtue is also a man of action. I seek, therefore, among those of our own [monastic traditions], whether lettered or unlettered, the man who arranges his soul according to such an understanding and the works according to it; reminding him also that a human being could not understand what is divine unless he had learned, or were learning, by reading or by observing the divine commandments (for that is a certain method of learning); nor could he have the practical virtue, which is itself accepted as a kind of knowledge inspired by God and instilled by Wisdom itself, by God, into those who serve Him with works, whom, though simple, He Himself knows how to make wise. C
142. Furthermore, given that the monastic way of life is the art of arts and the science of sciences—which is indeed the definition of philosophy—the one who dwells in solitude in the hope of seeing and possessing God is truly a philosopher. But how will it be possible for someone to philosophize who neither knows letters sufficiently nor has reached the insight of spiritual practice? For he who is above all things, the monk who is a servant of God in the strict meaning of the name, is by that very fact a scholar. And if he is a servant, he therefore contemplates Him according to the saying: "Be still, and know," that is, [know] God. But how would someone know God having been blinded in both eyes—of which one directs [the soul] toward practice, and the other toward theory—between which there is but a brief interval, even less than the thinness of a hair? For truly, there is no perfect knowledge which does not concur with works, and that which does not illuminate works is blinded. And for the most part, it illuminates through the Scriptures, in which are found sacred dogmas, the interpretations of obscure words, and sacred histories; these are divine lights, signs of beauty, images of instruction, the light of good works, and stimuli of righteousness. D
143. I, for my part, wished that such men gathered secular histories, and maxims, and proverbs, from which lies...
A ancient and most holy Fathers used to glean themes for their meditation, framing those sweet books in which they deposited words sweeter than honey and the honeycomb, and thus served God in a way well-pleasing to Him. And I myself desired that the monks who appear among us were of such a kind; but because they make light not only of secular books, but even of our own, by which God and divine things are more deeply understood, I wish to reason with them, lest they continue to act so foolishly.
144. For what, O earth and heaven, was the matter I heard from a man of such a kind! I had learned that there existed somewhere a sacred book, which Gregory, who is also called the Theologian, breathing fire and shining with the elegance of his speech, had written. And the book possessed much distinction, and its fame was recounted among many, and it attracted those who heard of it, so that they beheld it with wonder; and when they saw its internal and external beauty, it was a delight and an object of admiration for both mind and eyes. Having therefore conceived a desire to see that work of the illustrious Gregory, I did not reach my goal: it was hidden, at least from me. Straightway, and sorrowfully, I inquired of the superior (he was a virtuous man, and one learned in letters) as to the place where this famous book might be. But he, B moving the index finger of his right hand as if in a circle, answered nothing. And when I pressed him, and again asked him with cheerfulness, he said that the book had been sold. "For what," said he, "was the use of it to us?" And as wrath began to kindle within me, and the day was already revealing itself, that venerable monk added the reason, and explained it thus: "For what reason, indeed, do we have need of such books?" But when I had transformed my wrath into a bitter laugh, I reproached him, saying: "Of what, then, will you have need, O monks worthy of the name, if you hold such books for nothing?" The man turned and left me, ashamed, and never again came before my eyes in my lifetime, burdened, I suspect, by my love of books.
145. You, C then, O monks, do you wish thus to despise the theologians, and indeed, surely, all those who resemble them? Are those who speak of God thus useless among you? O Faustus, O Dalmatus, O Theodore Studite, O Epiphanius of Cyprus, O you myriad such holy monks! Did you live in this way? Did you hold the theological tablets as nothing and throw them before the crows? O most holy Epiphanius, why then were you filled with such philosophy even to satiety, so that you would entreat God and suppliantly ask Him to diminish your excessive knowledge?
146. O capable monk, if even now some difficult ecclesiastical question arises somewhere, which is a matter of contention, and about which it is fitting that holy men should struggle—of whom your brothers are a member and a part—what will you yourself do then? D How will you speak, when you have removed from yourself, and, as it were, cut off your tongue and your lips, that is to say, the theological concepts, by which all
usually the perverted inquiries are solved and restored to the right path? To what end, then, do your mundane affairs profit you? For the sake of which, having been preoccupied for so much time, you have abandoned your study of the scriptures, and those higher, more sublime contemplations that are nearer to God; not only have you failed to conceive a love for such a good, but you were one of those who persecuted it, having known perfectly, according to your own boast, only this one trinity: the adoration in the church, your cell, and the table; and not knowing that these do not suffice for a true monk for the perfection of virtue, but that he has the greatest need of knowledge as well. And I do not speak only of divine knowledge, but also that derived from histories, as has been said, and other manifold kinds, through which one might be useful to those who encounter him. A
147. Or whence did those great saints of old attain their wisdom? Was it while they were wandering about in villages and cities, and measuring out the thoroughfares and lanes, and spending time in trivial pursuits and idle roaming? Or by cornering people and engaging in every sort of gossip? How is it that men who had not originally embarked upon such labors of wisdom were subsequently filled with a wisdom worthy of the apostles of God, and uttered a voice like thunder, heard even to the ends of the earth? Was it by wandering around the public squares, roaming aimlessly, mocking the people in the market-place, and winking with their eyes and gesturing with their lips, and staring at those they ought not? Or rather, by being intent upon reading books, receiving doctrine into their ears, and practicing manual labor? These things are hated by the lazy, who do not only walk upon the path of life as if upon thorns, according to him who said: “The path of the slothful is as a hedge of thorns,” B but they also cast aside their reason altogether; they have learned and know well nearly only one thing: to lower the covering of their head almost to their mouth in the market-place, for the sake of the appearance of being someone who conceals himself; and if any trifles offend them, at once to lift and raise the black veil above the forehead, and up to the very crown of the head, so that they may act insolently with open mouth, and wear a face like a harlot’s. And then, he who used to fix his eyes downward suddenly magnifies them, breathing fire; he appears terrible, excites them, disturbs his reason, and does everything by which he who has become accustomed to such ways feels no shame, but rather loves them.
148. What then shall we call you, O monk? Urban or solitary? A man of spiritual solitude C or of the tumult of the crossroads? Dwelling in the villages or in the desert? Truly by the latter name, I think; inasmuch as you have emptied the city frequented by you of good example. You ought to have been earthly in what is visible, but heavenly in what is hidden, which the Father of all, God, loves: “who sees in secret and rewards in the open.” But you rise up like a star, and are bowed down to the earth; you are pressed down like a mandrake, or some other tree ex- D
-Atract difficult to move. “To God,” they say, “or to Mammon.” For what else is there? In the same way, in truth, a monk must be entirely for the world or for the monastery. For a true monk cannot be divided into two parts.
149. The unit was something sacred among the ancient philosophers, because it stands in itself and has no division; it is posited as the principle of numbers and the cause of multitude, yet it is neither multicolored nor divisible. Therefore it is held as something divine, and is placed first among the series of goods by writers. Thus the unit was sacred. But the number two, the first of the numbers that follow, signifying division, as if separated from the beginning and the start of multitude, was called "audacity," not entirely seriously, but as if in jest. Henceforth philosophers called the misery of the body "double," as if our primordial unity were split into two parts: to suffer and to act. A monk, therefore, ought not to be a participant in both external and internal things, such that for the sake of a single life he is duplicated (which he did not promise), and then irrationally diffused into a multitude hateful to God.
B 150. But if perhaps, O monastic one, you offer us for your defense that beatitude, namely that evangelical Mary who always sat at the feet of Jesus, and that she needed a second entity, Martha, who was troubled, not about one thing, but “about many things,” and that in the same way the fraternity of monks must be divided into two parts; give me here at once your Mary, who has chosen the good portion which shall not be taken away from her; and when I see her, I will pardon the perturbation of your Martha. For otherwise, Martha alone will not be a monastery without blame. In some way, the house of Zacchaeus, and that of the great Matthew, were such; Zacchaeus was once alone, and Matthew was alone. But later, when they had abandoned this solitude, they filled themselves with virtues, and arising from the world, they attached their souls to God; and going out from it, they went forth casting their seeds toward a good end, which they obtained, having gathered a golden harvest. By what reasoning will you obtain this, you who barely labored for your belly in the world, and for that reason having condemned it, have passed to a better life, and who from that point have become greater in evil arts? What do you gain, O monk, by this change, being of the former rank? C It would be better for you to return to your former vomit and be subject to small evils than, as you approach a stainless life, to drag along filth not yet wiped away.
151. Give me a man who has profited from your monasticism. Do you nourish ascetic fathers? And though they are holy, are you their wicked leader? Is it in this way that you are a participant in their goods, as the aforementioned Martha was to Mary? See, therefore, into the torrent which is near you; if anyone...
A should carefully dig and wash away the silt, in the manner of a miner, he will choose out a tiny bit of golden or base silver dust; but the rest of the ore, perhaps, does not even glitter with little particles of copper or atoms of iron; but the whole is cast-off sand. But why do you not labor for such brothers, and distribute your own labors to the needy? And upon what poor people do you lavish things without dealing, you who are not only grasping after things for wealth, but, if possible, even snatching them away under the pretext of the monastery’s affairs? And you are always of a mind to gather, but no longer to scatter, as God commands those who are in the great city, apparently, and those who elsewhere are similar to them. For you do not obey Him when He speaks.
B 152. If, however, O prelate, it must be granted that monks can and ought to be troubled about many things and conduct themselves in the world; for what reason do you yourself take up this labor by your own hand, when you have other workmen? Why do you not yourself attend to those things, the care of which has been entrusted to you by God, and why do you not send forth ministers to perform these services for the common people? But frequently you go out with them, like a centurion; and with some monks ordered to follow in the rear, while others are placed at the front, do you yourself, in the midst, celebrate a triumph? And as you pass along the ways, do you break down doors? If they were of the powerful, perhaps it would be glorious, but they are the doors of common people for the most part, and by no means those of men of high rank. When their outer veil has been drawn back, many yokes remaining on the threshold indicate that an ascetic is within, performing spiritual exercises. C Do you not know that any ascetic is for the most part inaccessible, and therefore inaccessible to the crowd, or difficult to meet? And if at any time he is compelled to go out, he fears greatly, lest he should "triumph" amidst pleasures; he wraps himself in a certain darkness, lest he be seen by those of the world, he who presumes to be heavenly. Why, then (to speak of greater things), having made great promises to God, are you not sanctified by similar works? And in this way, being celebrated and become famous, do you not draw disciples and allure them with a great rope, namely, the bond of charity? So that there is no need for you to go out to others, but they themselves are attracted to you out of admiration, invoking you with zeal and saying: «When shall I come and appear before the presence of the holy monk?»
D 153. But why do I say these things to men for whom it would be more profitable to spend their time outside the monastery than to remain within? For when they are sent out from there, they are considered to have the license to do nothing at all. Yet they seem to do something, if nothing else, at least by baring their feet and perceiving things broadly with their senses; but while they remain in the asceterion, they persist in being completely idle unto death, as if they lacked hands and feet. For they do not know letters, since most have come from workshops or have practiced some other trade; and I do not speak of just anyone, but even of the more skilled craftsmen; many are even dwellers at crossroads, so that neither do they [have] book-cases for acquiring spiritual
spiritual transaction, or the hearing of a sacred reading, unless perhaps at the time of the communal meal, which you might call food served at a table, as if the words of God were being sliced up into morsels. B 154. This is indeed a good thing also for those who wish to learn and to remember, even if it is a secondary work compared to the primary one. But you, however, a certain vile animal well known, listen to things far different from this spiritual lyre; you suppress a modest reading with the noise of the banquet and with frequent blasphemies at the table, especially when your companions are absent from the dining room. For when friends are present, a deep silence adorns the table, with hypocrisy as mistress ministering and teaching this good. Among the aforementioned monks, as we have said, there is neither reading, nor the exercise of good works, from which they withdraw their hands as if from sordid things; I scarcely know if they fear, as if with pretense and fastidiousness, lest it be unseemly and unworthy of a monk where there is need to set one’s hand to work. Hence vain chatter, from which there is no spiritual profit, is frequent among them. But this also befits animals, to whom, lacking reason, that is innate by nature. For they, ordained to do nothing, are disposed in this way. Birds sing, such as are suited for it, while all animals of a different species emit either a clamor, or a croaking, or a chirping, or some other sound; others roar, others bellow; all are excited to a certain vain garrulity, if one must use this name. Following their example, idle monks speaking vanity perform a certain minor evil. When, therefore, some from the crowd dare not to praise these men for sanctity, or for intelligence, or for miracles, or do not extend long speeches of praise toward them: "O vain speaking," they shout, "and vengeance! O bitter war! O injuries!" or rather, "O battles, O treacheries, O slanders!" Neither is the king assaulted with insults, nor is God himself avenged. Thus are the modest monks, monks tranquilly as they determined.
155. What then, O monk? Will you be blessed? "Certainly," he says. "I am a father; and it is not permitted for sons to contradict a father." But, you who boast yourself a father, is it granted to a son to argue that a father is insane, if not for some other vice? D Since, therefore, you are acting insanely against the monastic canon, and thus you sin, why do you bear the accusation of insanity impatiently? You seem to be repelling accusers so that you might escape the insults toward the great pontifical father, or, in your own estimation, toward him who holds the place of God. I, however, say to you confidently: If not a bishop, who else will dare to speak with you? What right leaves you acting without a master, without a lord, without a principle, without a head, without reason, without order? No nation lacks a king; therefore, neither shall a people consecrated to God be without a leader. From this, God has taken away understanding, if in that way you are of an alien mind, you who, since you wish nowhere to be observed, do something similar, as if he were refusing gold when
mixed with copper, and therefore impure, the trial by fire. Indeed, not even the patriarch himself escapes this; but at a certain time, an account is requested of him for what he ought. And God himself, rendering an account with goodness, sustains those people who are his friends questioning him: “Why, Lord, do you do this or that?” in order that he may then convince them. Sometimes, also, mercifully turning, he inclines toward their wishes.
156. But you, however, are very great, and above all rendering of accounts, and for this reason you are exalted above God, you who plainly refuse to be observed apostolically. Since you are such, why, from the beginning, when you were hearing accounts, interrogations, and questions at your tonsure, did you not firmly confirm your heart, and, having become strong-minded, resist those who were frequently asking questions, lest by coming forward together they might lead you into irretrievable and troublesome nets; but instead submitted so easily, and responded having objected to nothing? Since, therefore, you consented from the beginning to be humbled, hear in the future what is profitable, even if against your will; be convinced, be wise, according to the counsel of Solomon. A Love being entire, if not like Prometheus, at least like Epimetheus.
157. B Remember, therefore, in these things, also how many of the irrational animals, when they err, are corrected by being admonished with clamors. By how much more will a man desire and seek this, and will be blessed when he has found it! Of this, six hundred examples can be collected from elsewhere as well; but the following will suffice. They say that the women of the Moors, when there were lions near some village, the men being absent C (for the region of the Moors abounds with such wild beasts), were accustomed to attack them with injuries and reproaches. What, then, does the royal lion, being so noble, not blush to come before invalid persons, to whom there is neither strength of hands nor anything virile? Having heard which, they say the lion is affected with shame, as if by the inspiration of a rational nature, bashfully turns D himself around, and returns to his own, bringing no harm. Why, therefore, you who have been taught to be a lion against worldly passions, not only do you not place a veil of modesty over your mouth, when you leave behind your customary modesty, when you cross over to worldly things, and are rebuked for this cause, but even, roaring like a lion, do you trample those who rebuke you, and wish to tear them apart? Yet you had learned not to repel injuries with injuries, and not to threaten while suffering evils.
158. Behold the book of the rule; take it and read, and condemn yourself. When you act without shame, O monk, consider that you are a shameless dead man. For you died in the tonsure. When you engage in reproaches, remember that, having been placed among the mute, you utter blasphemy: you were not taught to be so loquacious. Therefore cease.
A Allow such prodigies to be worked in you, lest you provoke to anger the most high Creator of miracles. You are instructed to beat your breast in repentance, not to pierce the heart for minor faults or those that are none at all; to pour forth tears from sorrow for sins, not to suppress them even to the point of tears; to chant, not to shout; to stand before God upright and watchful, not to limp on both legs; to bend your knees in prayer, not to break them like a robber—all of which we frequently see among us. Let your rod and your staff comfort those subject to you and as many others as you can, that they may live in peace. Embrace with your hands to manifest spiritual joy, do not grip to the point of suffocation.
B 159. These things have been said in common to those of the great habit and to those not like them. As for the rest, it remains to speak briefly to those who have not yet pledged themselves to perfection, for the sake of recollection only; for I do not think them ignorant of what they are about to hear. But first, the appellation of "monk" must be explained, as to what it signifies. It has pleased the wise, by careful inquiry, to understand these words—*monon* (only), *monon* (alone), and *monon* (solitude)—as having different meanings, as if they were homonyms, used indiscriminately, just as bread is used for preparing food. In the same way, one has a single tunic when it is not joined to another garment; for if one is added, as in a union, it is no longer a single tunic. By the same reasoning, someone is said to have a single mantle when it differs from the rest of the garments joined and placed near it. And similar things are to be said of six hundred other matters.
C 160. This definition of meaning is adapted to your own name, O monk, whoever you may chance to be. With this as a foundation laid before you, we shall admonish you, after a few words, that you are not to dwell upon it, but that to the foundation lying beneath you must add another structure. For the apostolic monk—which is the same as to say, the solitary—ought to live possessing nothing else than himself, without any thing of human life clinging to him, such as a wallet and purse—and indeed the smallest and most wretched of them, provided that among the simple it serves as some sort of admonition to put aside these things. For in the purses, treasures are deposited, and in the wallet, the remaining riches. For a wallet is a bag, D and by a bag is understood any receptacle of riches whatever. To you, therefore, O monk who are to be received (for it is with you that we must begin), it is necessary to be stripped. This is implied when it is said that the monk is to possess himself and himself alone. I say "to be stripped," not to keep nothing to be worn, nor to behave like a Brachman gymnosophist, just as someone having recently emerged from the belly of his mother (which good thing shone forth admirably among our holy Fathers), but to be content with necessary things and to surround yourself with nothing superfluous. And this garment, in a certain way not unlike nakedness, excludes any other clothing whatever, because it is sufficient, and because the aforementioned solitude must be retained, which is fitting for monks.
A 161. Most necessary is bread; likewise, a moderate amount of wine is on a par with it, and similarly, moderate simple fare. Having these, in one way you do not act as a monk in the world (for you have something joined to you in some fashion), but in another way you appear as a true monk. For you have separated from yourself what is superfluous and whatever is not necessary to be joined to one who occupies himself with a life of continence—not with excessive passion, so as to exceed even natural requirements. If, therefore, you are able to live in such a way (and you are entirely able), as you have chosen, live in the monastery from now on after your entry. But if you recognize that you will not be able to do so, depart. For time B has been ordained for you for this very consideration, so that you may remain confident, or depart if you are distrustful. But you have considered, and you have stood at the holy threshold, and you have been blessed among the sacred rites, and you have put on the apostolic garment. Remain, therefore, as an apostolic—and presently also an evangelical—monk. You shall remain in a two-fold manner: neither wandering in mind—as regards the better part of your nature—nor using your body according to your own free will. For, having been ordered to serve in a different way, you will go out, and again you will return a monk, such as you went out, unpolluted in mind and body. And if anything must be brought back upon your return, you will do this according to the example of a diligent bee, that is to say, you will gather and carry, wherever it may happen, some good—either a bodily christian gift toward the utility C of the monastery, or something spiritual, whether from holy discourses heard or from pious desires accepted into your mind. And thus, having gained some profit from outside, you may emerge greater on account of your going out. But without an order, it will not be permitted for you to take away even the most insignificant fluff.
162. Thus, then, has the name of monk been considered by us, and not, I think, far from right reason. But the same name may be inquired into under another respect. Among many people, "alone" properly signifies a certain excellence of nature or of number, and this is sometimes laudable, yet no one will deny that it is sometimes blameworthy. For one who is "alone" is found among the philosophers of old, and among those who are skilled in rhetoric, and in the same way among the just, or others conspicuous for fortitude. "Alone," on the other hand, is transferred by some to malice, over which the worst devil is set. He, therefore, who D is properly called a monk among worldly men, whoever he may be, is a solivagant, just as he is also called a solitary by a truthful name, and easily "alone"; certainly not on account of the malice from which, fleeing, he went out from the common crowd and from the community, and chose the monastery; but rather manifest on account of virtue. And, moreover, a monk is alone in divine sublimity, he who has approached God, who is truly alone in goodness, and is fashioned according to Him, and is marked, and taught to remain evangelically in Him, so that, having been cast outside, he might not suffer extreme evils. On account of
A which excellence of virtue the monk is preeminently so-named, having invested himself with this most divine dignity of the name.
163. Such is our second interpretation regarding the monk, who cannot be compared with others, nor judged, nor joined; and who for this reason exists alone according to the excellence of virtue, not of tyranny, so that he alone who is marked by the tonsure appears to dwell solitary on the earth, yet is not in the least oppressed by it, insofar as he does not walk in it. B The third conjecture of the meaning which we offer asserts that there is added to the name of "solitary" (monachos) the component of "grief" (achos), to show that he is alone and will be mournful on account regarding the mortified life of the tonsured; this indeed bends the monk toward humility, yet he will be judged and accused of rashness by those skilled in this matter.
164. When I have arrived at this point in the discourse, brother, I ask you whether these things have been established by me with precision. And since I thought C I heard that what was spoken was approved by you, I again ask you: what censure would one have who reproaches a novice monk, such a one who ought to have been of a certain character, but has turned out to be something entirely different? And I think this answer must be accepted: that he is to be praised who has mocked such a monk, and thus turned him away from pursuing vanity; and much more he who has done so to one experienced for a long time. Concerning these things I confess that I feel the same, who know well that those who act dissimilarly must follow the footsteps of the great monk, for I have been taught to D "beseech, reprove, and rebuke" those who are such in a spiritual manner.
165. Who, I pray, posssessing a throne of perception, and seeing the novice monks in our age who are burdensome, or otherwise of humble appearance, will be able not to be troubled in spirit, and not to condemn a man who is in some way great among them, who, when he sees imperfect disciples being carried away to destruction, does not restrain the untamed, but rather excites them with a goad, praises their hard and harsh speech, and is himself exalted by their fierce fortitude? For a commander of an army does not gain glory from soldiers who are untamed and stationed under him. And being caught by a desire for multiplying such disciples, even if he has heard at all times that they are most fallacious, if I may say so, proselytes in the saving tonsure, he does not judge their character, nor does he dispose them toward a more certain conversion; but as a commander of soldiers, a spiritual man, a man of peace, a man of charity, a man of God, he thus responds: that the monastery needs such ministers, just as a tyrant needs lictors, and he admits lost men as though they were such, and studiously trains them—those who ought to have remained without the tonsure through their whole life, even if they requested the tonsure, or even to be shorn like criminals; these he places in the front, nourishes in like manner as they were accustomed, and inflames them toward a greater ardor.
A And such men as these, when they approach the director of souls, are received, being called "active," "zealous," "agile," "efficient," and, as they themselves say, "vibrant." But those of a contrary disposition are expelled as useless, lest, like idle hornets, they be nourished in the monastery by the honeycombs of others. And having thus recruited such a throng, the leaders of these first-monks have organized an irregular rank, forming factions and thriving not only against their neighbors, but even against those who are further away. By such an arrangement, these lordly superiors win the day, having more easily completed their standing. Truly, for when sin is approved—as someone once said—a dense and compact army is gathered against virtue. By doing this among us, they provide an example of vain discord, passing on the imitation of it from some to others, through which malice, like a fire devouring all that surrounds it, creeping forward, performs extreme evils. For discord, having been fanned among the prelates—of whom not a few make a show of the great habit—acts like a torch, pointing out to those standing around the monks who are contending for a certain place against neighbors or others who are distinct—those whom the prelates observe, and against whom they wage war as if from a citadel.
B 167. Meanwhile, from this fire, such a thought C often occurs to the mind: "If Thessalonica nurtures monks so strenuous, who act against the canons and the laws, despise the high priest, and no one even raises a word against them, why do we sit idle, as if paralyzed in our limbs, using neither hands nor mouth?" And immediately, their irascible mind, if it had been asleep, is awakened, and, after arming themselves—as someone philosophized—with all the weapons of a formidable soldier or general (which they know how to contrive wickedly), they set out for some "holy" war. If, thereafter, any of the great monks among them, fit to lead, place them in ambush against men who are not at all unjust and who are expecting an attack, they draw up the rest in open front. If they are detected anywhere, those who were lurking in ambush rise up themselves, and standing against the enemy and arranging their line, they send in the lesser phalanx; and by this means they accomplish—if not everything they wished, because of the aid provided by God and the holy emperor—at least whatever they can. For such souls, prepared to die, do not retreat. This evil zeal has destroyed our affairs; having begun with us and been carried as far as the Myrtoan Sea, and then as far as the Malian Gulf, and further to the Ionian, it has thus encircled the western parts; or perhaps it traveled from there to us, like some pestilential evil D of the type related by the ancients as the Ethiopian plague.
168. O the army of these men in black cloaks! O the varied arrangement of their phalanxes! I pass over the light-armed infantry. But oh, the equestrian monks! They are almost like Centaurs, among whom this one thing alone is marvelous: that those who never mounted even an ass after their tonsure, skillfully manage untamed horses.
A taught by the devil that way of riding, in which their craving is always for an ascent that is not spiritual, but the opposite. For some indeed refuse to use mules, but desire to be carried about upon noble horses, swift and fleet-footed, which bring home victory in a race, and they are borne along faster than the winds where they have need to flee or pursue. Moreover, they load the right hand with heavy key-clubs, which are not even portable by men, and they inflict unbearable blows when some odious person happens to meet them. And when they have crushed the wounded man, they boast as if they had done a good deed, being defiled by the blood of their hand B (18); yet at the same time they are conquered by the enemy devil, who fights against them.
169. Among them, many carry bows and shoot arrows; and when they hit their mark, they guffaw. They, however, are mocked by the terrifying archer, who shoots from hidden places and prevails, even if his projectiles seem weak against the mighty ones of God. If those who promised to keep solitude were to follow the men who have pledged to have laymen as armed satellites, they would perhaps have this excuse regarding the need to protect their path. But the following dogs, which hunters urge on, refute that defense with their barking, and with their hands they seek to be participants in that hunt. And therefore, they are heavily mocked by those who look upon them traveling in such a way, if one is taken as a companion for a swift journey, and another is dissolved in sweat as he cuts the earth with a plow; another is worn out by sowing seeds, or another by digging for planting, and that one cultivating groves or clearing them in another way, and the others, similar to them, who are worn out in all ways, and thus, as is fitting, mortify the flesh—concerning whom neither man would complain, nor would God be angry. But those who are addicted to labor, who are called unto the sweats of virtue, even unto death, behold, they are carried about armed against men and beasts that are upon the earth, or that fly in the air. They are others like Hercules, nay, even greater than the ancients. And this is not undeservedly so. For he removed evil men, cruel beasts, and harmful birds from the world with much labor; and that not willingly, but unwillingly, and not being able to resist the one commanding. But these, because of unseemly pleasures, willingly attack the innocent, they who from the beginning had been raised above the world by spiritual counsel (for how could those who have been consecrated to God by the tonsure be worldly?), yet they themselves, who are God’s chosen (would that they were!), prefer their own wicked leaders. C D
170. Did you not know, O novice monk, that you also, after your tonsure—august indeed, but humble and not to be destroyed—were immediately consecrated to God? Therefore, the dog is aptly referenced: “You shall not give your holy things to dogs,”—that is, you shall not allow your holy consecration [index: entries preserved]
A to see corruption. You have already been enslaved, not by force, but willingly. The most venerable cross has been set before you, which you have imprinted upon your own countenance to be worshipped. Nor were the witnesses of your servitude absent, for whom a written record should not be overlooked. Angels bear in their hands the document of your subjection; for do not imagine that the holy mysteries of your entry are invisible to God and His angels. Why then do you not persist in the servitude that is pleasing to you, and remain with the Lord, but instead break the bridle? Why, as if you had forgotten your servitude, do you dare to wander about and stray? You left behind wealth for the sake of solitude: but rejoice, since you have found a Lord wealthier than the accustomed one, Who, counting you among His own, will not allow you to return to former riches—that is, earthly ones—but will draw you by the hand to His kingdom, and not to just any kingdom, but one like His own. You came forth from the poor: rejoice equally; for the King of kings will not allow you to be poor, but will even compel you to be enriched royally, if only you make your dwelling with Him. You arrived unknown! He will make you illustrious. If you are illustrious! He will make you more illustrious B. Great are your portions, O monk, for behold, you have been inscribed into the royal order. Woe, however, to him who would pull you down from there and snatch you away. Who would that be, if not the prince of darkness, Satan, if you do not firmly cling to God?
171. But in order that you may know that it is no longer possible for a man similar to yourself, who is consecrated to God, to cast off your holy cloak, seek to do so, and you shall learn by the very works themselves that not even by striving ten thousand ways can you be restored to the world according to the canons. For it is not possible—it is not possible—for one who has been dedicated to God as you have, to dare such an apostasy, except with a curse. Leave, therefore, the superior, when he commands you to speak things worldly and leading to sin. For you were not assigned as an absolute slave to him, but as a brother and fellow-servant, or rather, even more, as a disciple. And no disciple who knows Christ obeys a master who thinks contrary to Him. Nor does the slave of a good master, himself not being perverse, yield to his fellow-servant when he persuades him to things by which the master would be grieved. And a wise brother C would not be judged for not listening to a foolish brother who is inciting him against the common father. Therefore, you too, who are in the introductory stage, if you love our Father Who is in heaven, if you do not falsely pursue this painless servitude, and if you have your mind set upon the greatest Teacher, follow him who is correctly ordering you as a superior, just as a good slave would, at once being placed under him as a master and loving him as a mild father. But if, deviating from the right path, he leads you to the left, and into a way untrodden by the righteous, stop; and speak with reverence and liberty—I mean that liberty which no one rejects. Entreat him, and defend your cause spiritually. He will respect your liberty, your entreaties, and your justification. If he says that it is inopportunate for you to speak freely, answer that there is one liberty to which the great monk, upon being consecrated, has renounced, as has been shown before, and another kind of liberty—yours toward him. For the former is an indication of irrational audacity, but this latter is a precaution against evil D.
If he should again terrify you, bringing forward the text: A “Let the son who contends with his father die,” wishing to denounce as a parricide him who resists him, dismiss him as one speaking in the manner of the insane, not understanding what it is he says. For this is not the father whom it is forbidden for a son to contradict, nor are your words contentions against this father. But not even the greatest Father, when he commands, refuses to hear entreaties, nor does he condemn to death, nor does he repel; but he urges the one who pleads to be obedient, even when he has heard unjust things. Therefore, do not obey, nor be violently led to wicked works; but indignantly refuse, freely and truly. If the father persists again, depart from him as from a fire, and you will avoid ejection. And when you have resisted such a father, and have removed yourself from him—the guilty one of insanity—be a son of the first and only Father before all others, and hope in Him. And He Himself will help you, He to whom you offered yourself from the beginning, having left behind the desires of the world; B of which thing the deposition of the hair was a token—profitable indeed for a few things, but most desired by those who live in luxury in the world, and who take it hard when those [hairs] fall from their heads. And if it happens that they recover them, they rejoice as if they had found some treasure worthy of all honor. But the true monk, who looks upon those who conduct themselves in this way, is saddened by their vain joy.
172. If, therefore, O monk, you who are at the beginning and the first stages, wish to walk in the footsteps of those who set their course toward God, you have done well to lay aside your worldly hair as a good sign. But if, from the very entrance, having passed beyond the threshold of the way, you have turned aside and slackened your alacrity, you have been deprived of your hair in vain. For it were better for you to be burdened with it, like certain nations who are conspicuous for long and beautiful hair, and thus to present something venerable, than to cause shame to your soul by the way you act, and to your head by the deprivation of the hair. And indeed, many of you transgress in this matter as well, nourishing hair more than worldlings. At the start they seem like certain Curetes, and shortly thereafter, as history tells, they turn into Acarnanians; not, however, so as to let the hair trail down to the feet—which was a contempt of the world D among the ancients, when, covered with hair as a garment of the body, they fashioned a kind of natural tunic, from the top descending even to the feet, if not woven. Thus, the monks of our time, these lambs of God, are not so burdened with thick wool, but rather so that they may more elegantly adorn the black covering of their heads. Many, indeed, even artfully arrange their curled hair, providing that the shock of hair does not appear too thick and move those who look on to laughter. Therefore, it will be rightly said that a monk who does not renounce excessive hair will not renounce any other worldly thing.
A 173. Having spoken these things to you, the novice, in a brotherly way, I ascend for ease toward the higher one, who is no longer, like you, a mere soldier of God, but one who has now donned the breastplate, and having received a vow, has been formed through good works in Christ the Savior himself, and who has been marked at once—when in the name of the Holy Trinity he laid aside his superfluous hair as if in mourning—and has taken for himself the sacred mantle as a firm breastplate, and thus has become, as it were, the middle between God and men: God, that is, the man of the divine Great Habit; men, those who are still lower by reason of initiation, and who labor around the foothills of virtue. He, being placed in the middle and joining the extremes, touching both sides, is numbered among the novices much more than you; he magnifies the presbyterate, yet he is inferior to the perfection [of the Great Habit] by a long interval, and nonetheless possesses an extraordinary dignity. For he who is simply a mantled monk is without doubt a middle man. And I will almost say, by as much as he is surpassed by the greatest, by so much is he inferior to you. If he should attain the summit in some fraternity, he will not on that account be a middle man, touching with one hand, as it were, the highest things, and with the other receiving the lowly from initiation; but he transcends the common middle, comes to the highest, and by one step (he is inferior to the heavenly ones because of crafty machinations) flies, as if on two wings—that of his mantle and that of his authority—close to the Great-Habit monk. And then it is permitted to him to contend confidently with him regarding glory and dignity, if he loves such questions, and he finds probationary arguments by which he may obtain equality, of which the most valid is his preeminence in authority, by which he has taken up a heavy yoke, because it is full of business.
174. This sublime mantled hegumen, who ascends to heaven by another way, through the Great Habit—both the thing itself and the canonical law and the divine example demanding that such an one be a great man, and not to be lessened even slightly from an angel—is contemplated in that which serves as the human archetype, the Great-Habit monk. For he has been canonically fashioned after that angel. Such, then, is the man C who is called upon to appear and to be, he who is a minor-habit monk but a hegumen (who himself also has already been fashioned according to the Great [Habit], or rather, to speak more accurately, has been modeled in the divine character, even if not according to that grandeur), in the most famous of cities and in other places—most of whom we have known from histories, but some by sight—he fulfills the requirements; and after the second heaven, that is, the perfect monk, he himself is stretched out as a second, just as if he were rounded out after the unwandering sphere.
175. But among us, I am not able to clarify truly who and what kind he is. For he is boasted of as being above the first heaven, like the waters that are above the firmament, and he is judged to be the first of all men; but it is tested, like
the celebrated Aeginetic (or rather, Aégean) one, that he is neither second, nor third, nor any other at all. For he openly lies that he is a "great-habit" monk (where, I know not), like that one—to be transferred from a catechumen, as it is written, into a neophyte scholar, and by resting from works within seven days to be changed into a man entirely without sin, as if you had then put off the old man and put on the new, and were to be reformed into the image of God. But malice will never allow him to wake from his heavy sleep, from his wine-filled life and the drunkenness that ensues from it, and to rethink so that he might be saved through conversion and the formation of the great habit. To this alone the lesser monks approach, performing the worst deeds and heaping up malice to be purged at the time of the great habit, so that God, the author of this spiritual healing, might bestow graces upon this wicked man who has sinned in such a wretched state, so that He might be the more wondered at through him. And somehow such men, having acquired a privation of every good, B transact for their future state through the great tonsure, acting irrationally, and not understanding this: "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we shall die." Which is to say: Let us sin without hesitation; for tomorrow, having died to the corrupt and corrupting life and world through the great habit, we shall stand before God, no longer sinners, but like unto the angels.
176. And would that he attained what such men say! But who knows the fruit of the coming day, if it will not be miscarried? For the time being, however, he who is not yet such a one promises what we said, the state of the "great-habit" monk. He lies, with a solemnity of face, and a knitting of the brows, and a clouding of the sun that is in his eyes, and a craftiness of gaze, and a fixing of his eyes upon the ground, and a modulation of speech, and a pretext of humility, and the frequent saying of "Bless," and a deep prostration, and a behavior C as pious even in his very gait, showing himself to be the first among monks; and for the most part, he even surpasses that man, sending forth an impression; but otherwise, he is greatly inferior in how far he falls short and lowers himself. And what do I mean by "lower than him"? It must, in truth, be said that such a man should not be compared even with a novice monk, who, having pulled away at the first obstacle of the divine stadium, has begun to run a straight course toward God. For he refuses to touch monastic handiwork as much as a man who lacks hands. He sits entirely idle, and because of this, he meditates and reasons, as is natural, on all sorts of things, the majority of which incline toward passions, and those not praiseworthy.
177. For since desire is twofold, the one praiseworthy, according to which the most discerning man Daniel was called "a man of desires"; and the other blameworthy (and such is that of the idle, according to the one who correctly said, "The sluggard is in desires" D), it is not unlikely that a superior is tossed by the waves of evil desires,
when, having shut himself up inside his cell and leaving behind all external business, he remains in idleness. At which time thoughts also ascend to him and besiege him, rendering him worthy of the lamentation brought against those who in this way remain at rest: "Woe to him that is alone," it says, "for when he falls, he has no one to lift him up." A And such, in truth, is the superior who, living in idleness, neither helps other brothers who fall, lifting them up, nor does he devise for himself schemes by which, once having fallen, he might rise, and be raised up out of the pit into which he has tumbled.
178. And thus the father lives as a monk while in idleness. But when the brothers gather together, then one might see that man—who is just any ordinary person, and, as the proverb goes, "nothing holy," or to speak otherwise, a handsome head set upon a strong chin—of the kind that are often set over monasteries by us who wander and, so to speak, miss the mark. Therefore, one who might see the laughable victim as being nothing other than horns and a beard, could compare the one leading them—if one were to parody the kids—to be merely a haughty eyebrow and a beard. B Yet to such persons the name of "great monk" is subscribed. And what is more marvelous is that, along with the habit, they display not in reality but in appearance the "Great Habit," which is called "Great" for the sake of virtue, but which they display—someone might say—as a great hypocrisy. When, therefore, as has been said, a gathering of brothers takes place, then our superior, whoever he may be (and in truth he is not great), since manual labor is not required by necessity (for how would one who hates it when alone not be ashamed of working in the sight of many?), chooses to engage in conversation. C But the things spoken are not questions about the Scriptures, nor solutions to holy obscurities, nor passages from the holy Fathers, nor the interpretation of divine words, nor an account of holy disciplines, nor an exhortation concerning those things which the brothers ought to do so that they might be spiritual workers, nor about those things which must be avoided, nor any method for choosing good and avoiding evil, no discourse, no setting forth by which those who are already learned might become more learned regarding the principles previously taught, and others who are ignorant might begin and complete divine knowledge. D Therefore the superior's conversations are not of this kind, but are truly confused talk about any random thing. Beginning with vines, and harvests, and the collecting of taxes, and other such coarse matters—for when the elders do not have time for personal business, they fall into talking about olives, and figs, and the remaining fruits; he philosophizes, then, as to which vine gives good wine; which land is virtuous for producing many-fold; from where the brothers might get a greater return; which simpleton among the ministers is suitable for snatching, and what keeps the hand of the monks who are leading closed (for he is ashamed to insert himself clearly into the conversation). He teaches also about the olive, for instance, not that its expressed fluid is consecrated for royal and illuminating anointing, nor that, omitting holiness, it offers manifold health to those who use it,
A nor just that it alone presses out oil without combination or composition (for any other oil is combined with some addition: we speak of almond oil, for example, or nut, or sesame, but not oil simply); rather, that it alone provides a fat that is pleasant, elegant, and worthy to be set upon monastic tables. Concerning the dried fig he also discourses at length: not that the green fig is a substitute for honey, and that when dried it is not deprived of its sweetness; wherefore the wise call the fig-tree "sweet" by way of exception. Nor that we owe thanks to the leaves of this tree because they covered our first parents, nor does he bring forward other things wondrous and leading to gratitude; nor even that the dried fig is known to breed lice through lifelong misuse—a thing which, if mentioned as history, would have revealed the teacher's wide erudition; but rather that it is pleasant to eat of the fig, just as it is of the green one, and also when it is withered. And that it is good also for profitable possession; and how a collection of figs is a good thing, in which, since many are heaped together, it is not possible to select one and reject another, but all are consumed mixed together for the owner's profit. B Furthermore, the prelate instructs his companions on how one might store pears, either by dipping them in honey, or by hanging them in suitable, dug-up earth, as if they were better, or covered in sand so they may be kept. He also praises wild pears, on the grounds that they indicate good must—as one might say in Latin. For when they float, they manifest wine not mixed with water, but when they sink, they reveal fraud. Would that this elder understood the reason for this, and perceived therein a certain similarity to the oft-sung Rhine, the river of the Celts. For even there, the spurious is distinguished by floating or sinking, albeit in a different way. For there, legitimate offspring are distinguished by the fluid as they float, while those not born of marriage sink. C Here, however, the liquid indicates the genuine or the reverse by the sinking or rising of the pears. The learned prelate further explains in what temperate place other fruits and quinces must be hung to be preserved, in what kind of air pomegranates are to be balanced so they may be guarded, and in what way palea [chaff] preserves them so they will last. And soon he fervently reasons that the nature of chaff is apt for preserving all things; for it maintains the state of a warm body wrapped within it, and allows something cold, like snow, to be tightened in its proper nature. Soon, as if descending into a further consequence, he discovers his own opinion, namely that chaff is easy to find, and that a man capable of initiation is easier still, since, he says, chaff carefully preserves what is deposited D within it. He further considers pomegranates, not those holy pomegranates fashioned after their model; nor the wondrous Megabyzuses (19) whom the king of the Persians desired to have surrounding him according to the number of seeds of the pomegranate he happened to be holding in his hand at that time; for when another general asked the king what he wished to be multiplied as much as the seeds of the pomegranate, Darius replied that he wished there to be as many Megabyzuses.
A And he says that a man who knows how to deal in mysteries treats the chaff with a certain proverbial saying, since, he remarks, the chaff also defends, in a thrifty manner, that which is stored up within it intact. The same person further observes regarding pomegranates, not those priestly boys who represent them more intellectually, nor the marvelous Megabyzuses—whom the king of the Persians prayed might exist in such number as the grains of a large pomegranate, which he was handling at the time—nor that some wise man, elegant in his phrasing, glorified the edible parts of pomegranates as moist coals; nor that, along with a charcoal-like appearance within, they often glitter on the outside with flame-like color; but rather that, of the two juices found in them, the sour juice is better than the sweet one. For it is useful for women in labor for the longings of pregnancy, and is most pleasant for cooking. He also says that the rind is useful for them, for through it the writing ink is darkened to a deeper shade, just as it is by the green rind of walnuts. Furthermore, unable to set forth the merit of either kind of almond, he professes to love them for their variety: for a certain wit, having tasted one or two sweet almonds and being enticed by their sweetness, then began to scrape a bitter one and, by its bitterness, provoked the laughter of those standing by. B The same person also praises the arbutus berry, which provides a light food, and attempts to persuade his disciples to seek from it a state of intoxication while using wine sparingly. He skillfully compares these to red borders, on account of the many little heads blooming on them. He also compares them to the mushrooms of Pydna, but with this difference: that those are usually more swollen and have a rough, dark part, and are not perfectly spherical, whereas the arbutus berries are otherwise in size, color, and shape. And this Father speaks trifles about grape clusters, whatever happens to occur to him (and surely things worthy of such listeners do occur to him). And when he has celebrated all other fruits with such knowledge and eloquence as he can—having inserted some method for cultivating vegetables and having later discoursed upon fish, as he knows how to discourse—he then dismisses the assembly of the brethren, in which he had delivered a sermon not to be envied, which the dinner guests and the butchers would love, and in which he explained their duties as he knows how to explain them.
179. If at any time, when in the presence of other men who are great, at least in worldly terms, the time should come for him to speak, that man assumes all sorts of forms. And, first of all, after a short silence, as even Pythagoras would not have done, he manifests his profound virtue through this posture, showing himself—as the saying goes—to be a silent hero. D Afterward he brings forth something brief, squeaking like an owl, and with that clamor he brings forth wonders from his breast, unfolds his life in order—not, to be sure, things done before the tonsure (which he wishes to be remain veiled in mystery and honored with silence), but after the laying aside of his hair, so that he may thus serve the holy Father, and he praises him for his own good; and by the subsequent transformation he himself appears most holy, as if a participant in holiness; how he might continually serve him well, wishing that obedience be thus prepared for him; how his progress, perfection, and praises might be affirmed by that elder master, and the disciple be called to greater things for that reason; how, when he is dead, he himself might see visions through him and perform miracles.
Why are these things brought forward? To manifest his own theoretical and practical virtue, though he is neither, if one must use that term, since he is incapable of any knowledge or work. Finally, that most honorable man brings forward the dignities and honors heaped upon him by kings, patriarchs, and dukes, so that he may be praised and feared on account of them.
B 180. When, however, he speaks with arrogance, deciding that his auditor is being softened and has been made docile, he then exposes the misery of the monastery, accusing either a judge of seeking some good, or someone of having committed an injustice. And that unjust one is either a pontiff usually attacked from outside the body, or a neighbor causing bodily grievances. The former [the pontiff] is detested by him because he is difficult for him, overly demanding, meddlesome, wanting to contend over every duty, a scrutineer of the canons, and, to say it all, one who does not permit him to do whatever he wants. For these reasons the pontiff is accused. The neighbor, meanwhile, is detested because, by possessing some property near the monastery (whether a cornfield, or something else of that sort, or running water suitable for irrigation or for a mill), he is troublesome to the needy monastery, and neither wants to sell what he has, or, what is worse, to give it away. Furthermore, he is burdensome to the brothers if they object anything to him. When he has said these things, and has been considered simple and pleasing to God, he harms both—both the wretched pontiff and the poor neighbor.
181. How one should handle this, it is not the place here to explain in detail. This one thing must be noted: that one’s neighbor will not suffer as much from a barbaric incursion as he will from the holy Fathers. What dart flying from a prelate towards him does the pontiff not see? What sword striking from afar does he not fear will hit him? The dart (or calumny) is dipped in mortal poison—namely, in plausibility; the sword striking from afar is the lack of reverence before the eyes, through which a man trained to silence, tranquil, a disciple of Pythagoras, mute, takes on the mouth and voice of a C harlot, and like a flute inflated by the devil, utters reproaches against not just any lay Episcopal character, not just any holy man, but against the bishop himself, and at the same time is puffed up with a loud voice. In the church, with a hoarse throat, he then bellows the sharpest cries. And when he adds the humid to the dry spirit, he settles into a deaf drum or lower, down to barking: nor does he cease, until the path of chatter is cut off.
182. Such is our most laudable man when he emits his atrabilious fury against a man. But if he at any time attacks a woman with injuries, O depulsor of evils, O worst of mouths! O patience, a deluge of evils! D [alt-version omitted]
A Indeed, it can only be called the obscenity of a harlot, in which the man practiced in being a pettifogger does not wish to be surpassed. Not even nightingales respond to one another in such a way, nor do swallows clamor like this. And it is not fitting to compare such a commotion to the clamor of frogs, whose great voice the water surrounding their mouths suppresses. Does he not feel shame, he who has received from God the magnificent form of man, the divine image—namely, the mouth—to render it useless in himself, and to transform a paradise planted with trees into a thorn-thicket? Let him not be willing to agree with Solomon who says: "The health of the tongue is the tree of life" (Prov. 15:4); where that word, "health of the tongue," must be investigated and explored. For the evil of the tongue is truly the worst disease. But when it is healed, the tongue again becomes the tree of life, or, which is the same thing, of God, who said: "I am the life" (John 14:6), and who forbids even an useless word from being brought forth unseasonably, B concerning which it is necessary to speak to the detractor.
183. Just as there is a tree of palms, and of pears, and medlars, and the rest, so also a tongue that is healthy and speaks what is good shall be a tree of life; its roots are accounted to be in the soul, and the tongue as its trunk. Its fruits are lives—whether according to theology, or according to moral science, and whatever others there may be—but not the evil words which flow forth from it, among which is the "Naziraic" abundance (21) esteemed by many among us. When this is celebrated, if any of those standing by mocks, he will suffer serious consequences in other ways, and provokes the ascetic to indecent vituperation. If, however, a prelate, being an eyewitness or an earwitness, complains, then he will perceive how the monk defends himself and behaves like a madman. C For immediately, arming himself for injuries, he roars, he frets, he bellows, he dances, he mutters, he sends forth groans from the depths of his breast, he emits frequent breath from his nostrils—wishing even to seem "fire-breathing"—he draws his eyebrows together, he clouds his face, now dyed with paleness, again reddening like flame, suffering even a certain ashen hue in color, and somehow thus excelling in such changes, and for the moment stifling his manifest anger and speech. But when he has retreated to his cell, the things he says while raging in his heart turn against him alone and those like him; those things which he has thought and meditated upon and brings into the light are manifested in such a way.
184. The spiritual man begins from those things that are more bodily. D And indeed upon ecclesiastical vineyards he introduces animals that devour the mothers along with their fruits; he sends his flatterers—like certain crows—to cultivated trees, so that they might strip them of their fruit; and he brings a devouring flame into reed-beds and the remaining thickets. He hedges off country paths and the remaining roads from the men of the Church; this lover and creator of novelties orders them to cut a different new path, and by this [index: entries preserved]
ON AMENDING THE MONASTIC LIFE
A ...may take them, he exercises his malice upon those who will have need of it when he shall suffer the unquenchable flames. Regarding external affairs, he sets boundaries; he who possesses wide power, and who, being undefined, is not easily circumscribed. In houses, a man notorious and one who deserves to see dark things builds lookouts and tolerates thefts, having turned from the most eloquent Mercury into a thief. But he who lives in stupor and contempt also permits injuries and beatings, and moves every stone so that, after his victory, he may emerge formidable and inaccessible.
B 185. But these things relate rather to the body. Spiritual deceptions, however, and tricks and machinations are another kind of evil, acting no longer against the body, but against the Holy Spirit, and they attack the pontifical right. These men, while the name of the pontiff is cited during the sacred mysteries, hear it indeed, and necessarily so; for the open doors make it so that anyone who is not completely deaf hears what is said. But what they think of the relative discourse escapes no one. What is that? They will see men, without a doubt, who speak of them with neither a sincere mouth nor a good heart. And these very same people do not want the hand to be imposed upon them by their own bishop. For this reason, the great pontiff, the head, God, when He was to be raised to the priestly dignity, judged it a sacrilege to submit his head to a legitimate pontiff—he who in this matter was a man, who had learned the gift of the Holy Spirit, and who understood it. “Freely you have received, freely give” C; he who renders the crime of simony to hell, anathematizing it; who approaches the diocese of an external bishop, simple and candid, and who does not turn away such strangers; who does not want a too-curious monk to inquire who someone is, whose he is, and for what reason he has approached him. But the one approaching that bishop will produce as witnesses bishops who are perhaps unknown in that place but who nevertheless accept gifts in exchange for their testimony; or perhaps a prefect arrives from some monastery, of foreign tonsure, who after some time gives to the brothers a ready specimen of his own acquaintance, testifying before a strange bishop concerning his whole life, deceiving by his indolence both himself and his elector and the entire clergy, but subjecting the monks as witnesses to divine judgment. And so, with the priesthood thus craftily usurped, he assumes others at will who are privy to the crime, immediately associates monks from their own flock with himself, and in this way acts rashly, so that he does not cause other labors and expenses for the college of brothers. What testimony he received, such he renders to whomever he pleases; he renders a forged debt and presents a mutual phantom of virtue. If the brothers through a false game bring others after others before the eyes of the bishop, D
they are newly established in the monastery, not having been ordained, unholy in another way; those who were holy before this, are truly unholy; instead of church-goers, they are outside of every church. And yet, this leaderless shepherd of the flock, a man of the herd, unrestrained and without a shepherd, who has violated the royal seal, presides over the most fearful prayers and the most holy sacrifice offered upon them; and the rest join in the prayer, and pray together, and think that the ears of God are with them. But the matter is otherwise, if one is to pay attention to the holy Scriptures; and one must pay attention to them in every way. For I say confidently, that those places which the natural high priest does not oversee—whom one may also call the appointed, and apostolically self-grown, and genuine according to the ancient tradition, with which the opening also coincides—neither does the Lord oversee.
187. The cause of such monastic hatred against the high priests is the lack of accountability, which the monks fervently desire; the lack of investigation, to which they stubbornly cling; and indeed also their arrogance, and their diabolical haughtiness. For they suppose, surely, that if there were no high priests, they themselves would be everything in the world; and that no church would be subject to any others than those wearing black cowls over their entire bodies. Being such as these, and thus hating the high-priestly race—and with a hatred not common, but perfect, as the great Psalmist says, and causing enmity—and because of this, fleeing in fear from the wretched bishops, the wicked men themselves accuse them of bearing grudges.
188. O holy monk, if the bishop, being persecuted and in flight, bears a grudge, what then shall you be named—you who persecute him without cause and, as the Scripture says, fall upon him like darkness and great fear—if indeed one must name you? An enemy to the mind, if a name must be given. And where, pray, is any good thing found in you other than only what pleases you autonomously? I call God himself to witness: if you had turned toward good thoughts for the salvation of your soul for even one single day out of all the things you meditated upon with an evil mind against your bishop for a whole year, you would have become very like God. But now, as I see well, you have set as the one and only object of your life to resist the bishops, and to remain anti-episcopal, and, straightway, also un-episcopal. And remain such, if you wish, and manage such things to the end, and act in this way; so that, when you have eaten the fruits of your labors so wrought, you may alone drink of the things against you. Speak as much and whatever you wish, and against whomever you wish; for by such practice you will turn out to be a declaimer. Bless the high priests to their faces, that you too may receive a blessing. Repel far away the sanctification that comes from there, saying: "I sanctify myself"; and thus your sanctification will abound so as to pass on also to others who desire such a sanctification. Prepare a pleasant bath and summon your remaining friends and anyone passing by, so that in such...
A a wash you may wipe away from yourself the insults leveled at the pontiff. This repeated washing will give purification to mind and body. Set out lavish tables capable of holding many guests, and eat the pontiff mixed in with your food, and do not be satisfied, so that you may have nourishment and delicacies from him for many days. Multiply your encomiums upon him. For what mercy do you have for the servants of God, against whom you rave like a demoniac? Everywhere in the world proclaim him to be a wretch, a great wretch, to use a comic expression, the most wretched of all, so that you may remain pure. Tear him to pieces and drink wine. Sing songs against him. Because of your own heavy yoke, treat his yoke as light and worthless. Spit upon his teaching, which you will never be able to comprehend. In order that they may fear you, grow a beard, from which your dignity hangs. Immerse yourself in a head-covering descending as far as your nose, and thus show your B likeness to God, saying to him who approaches: "You shall see my face"; to which he might not absurdly respond to you: "No man shall see your face, and live."
Tell me, I pray, you who are the greatest enemy of bishops and most terrible among us, whether among so many monks living under you and with you, there might be found ten just men, as in the time of Abraham, or five, or three like yourself? Why then do you not answer the pontiff? Indeed, I deny that such a full number is to be found among our monks. For it is a joy if one is found, and thus solitary, unique, individual, a monk, being named differently from the monastery where he dwells, even if he might be sought again among the Megalopolitans, among whom a very small portion of monastic life is ascribed, and yet no one lives the decrepit life of the prodigal son, so that regarding them also that saying may be fulfilled: "None of them perished."
[C D] 190. But yet, late at some time, O my good master (for I hesitate to address you as father, until I see you worthy of such a salutation), be corrected. And first of all, accept the people governed by you, and since you are present to listen (provided you do not disdain to hear my voice), hear what perhaps we shall not be teaching, but will be calling to mind for those who are knowledgeable in such things.
191. Nothing prevents, O brethren, even those who have not yet attained the perfect form from being like the great monks in virtues, just as the stars—fixed stars, whence they also get their name—perform the double revolution which is prescribed for them. Therefore, the lesser monks can, through imitation, be compared, one to the sun, the other to the moon. What more? They can be compared to the celestial septenary which is opposed to the spiritual heaven, not so that they might enter into battle, but so that they might generate terrestrial creatures by which they may be brought to salvation by the Spirit
so that in this way those who are perfect in virtue, of which the number seven is the symbol, as discovered by wise men, might perfect those who are still in this life. And so it may be understood that even those who have not yet reached the great habit A can be fashioned toward the great-habited, just as those who generate life, wandering toward the life-bearing fixed stars.
192. Let these who are mantle-bearers be with God; but let those who follow after them shine, if not among the primary stars, at least among the minor ones (as indeed it is within their power to do this), so that all monastic matters may shine everywhere with a genuine light, and by the conditions appropriate to them, may draw others with a sweet voice: "Come to us and be illuminated." If, however, any of the mantle-bearers fears being called a wanderer, lest he be turned into Saturn, who is hostile to his own children, or lest he be equated with Mars, the commander of battles; or if he fears Aphrodite, and the vicissitudes of the Moon, and if he fears certain other things said with good omens and considers them trifles, I counsel him to strive to become like the sun, whereby he will make his life transparent to all, imitating supreme dignity and expressing the image of Mercury, by whose benefit he will act as the body of God and a herald of all things with reason and wisdom, even if he has never tasted the first elements B of scriptural knowledge.
193. Thus, therefore, let those who walk armored with the mantle fear nothing. For beaming with solar light, reasoning like Mercury where it is necessary, always philosophizing with a sound mind, and everywhere inquiring into the causes of things, and serving the Word who lacks a beginning, they will neither feed on raw flesh like Saturn, nor will they wage Martian wars, nor give themselves to Venus, nor otherwise embrace the mores of the world; but by living holily and reasonably, and in a manner befitting the divine will, they will appear in the eyes of others to be gods, as happened with Barnabas and Paul, one of whom they believed to be Mercury, the other Jupiter. And so, as we have said, the minor monks, whom the sacred mantle clothes—tightly bound, but not hanging down like a priestly pallium, and symbolically adorned, though this is not the place to expound upon it—will be great lights. The third order C is of those who are not armored with a breastplate, but are equipped with light arms, whom custom has made round like minor stars; there is no reason for them to fear lest they be placed under evil omens among the fixed stars after the example of certain stars named with less good fortune. For the first constellation represents the Dragon D; another represents both Bears; another Pegasus. Another refers to the Crab by a name little to be praised; add to this Sagittarius, of pernicious name. And for this reason those names themselves appear hateful. Nor do they love Capricorn on account of its ominous name. From these
A things and similar reflections—and there are many such—they consider the stellar order. Let them not then be afraid even B here, where there is no fear. For he who reasons thus, let him be a planet in another sense, not an errant star such as the stars are commonly called. For he does indeed err, but with no propriety, if he neglects the laws of the other stars and clings to empty names. For a wicked name has never harmed a man of proven virtue, just as a good name has never profited a man who is a sinner. Imitations, on the contrary, when expressed through actions, are pernicious to him who acts badly, or profitable to him, vice versa. If, therefore, a novice fears that because of the stellar sign of the Dragon he may himself become voracious, or gluttonous because of the Bears, or impeded because of Pegasus and suddenly carried aloft, or that he may walk with crooked steps like a Crab, when he cannot walk as it befits a man, and is forced to live like a brigand by C shooting with the bow like the one above, and to become savage or horn-headed as they say of Capricorn, such a man is possessed by the demon of fear, or suffers from black bile, unless he happens to wish to joke where it is not a matter for joking. Yet, let him nevertheless, if he wishes to turn to the healing of other, more auspicious stellar names, first take the Altar; for the monk who is moved to sacrifice himself to God and to be accomplished as an acceptable victim, inherits not a bad, but an entirely good stellar name, being called the Altar of God; or more commonly expressed, a censer, consecrated to God. Then, besides the Altar, let him have for the imitation of good names also the stars, the Twins, the memorial of love for one's brother, most ancient in history, according to which the god-loving [brothers] even yielded their life for one another. In addition to this, the Virgin, a name both most beautiful and pleasing to the angels; D he who imitates her example with sincere actions draws near to God Himself and is associated with John the Theologian, beloved by all. Add the Waterman, whose very name exhorts one to temperance, so that he may avoid the malice born of drunkenness and wine, and, accustomed to a sober life, may derive benefits from the names of the stars, and being prepared to practice them, will repress the fear within himself of the Dragon, of both Bears, of Pegasus, of the Crab, of the Archer, of Capricorn, and of all the rest; and he will remain entirely a divine star, resplendent in both good names and deeds. For a man who is consecrated to God as a victim through charity—such as the holy Gospel and the Old Testament describe—who exercises a purity worthy of a virgin and follows sobriety, has nothing of the Dragon or the Bear in him. For how would a man who loves his brothers and overcomes evil desires spew forth the poison of envy or devour his neighbor with a blasphemous mouth? He will certainly never let out a ferocious whinny, nor will he, transgressing the ways of the Lord, act crookedly without necessity while feigning brotherly love. For this reason, therefore, he will assume neither the form of the Archer—for which the name of the monster Chimera was invented to designate, to which not even a horned serpent could be compared.
B
194. But why do I speak of these astral signs? Although I could use them to extend my discourse at greater length, and not altogether ineptly or unskillfully, nevertheless, I shall moderate my speech here more prudently, so that the monks of the second and third order may not have a pretext to say that the hour of their salvation has not yet come; nor may they say, "Now we must indulge our nature, and now we must sin a little; for we are still small and immature, and to such as these sin is not imputed, nor is the law of perfection yet to be imposed upon them. Chastity will be required when we are of the greater orders and near to death, but for now we must live in luxury. We shall seek salvation later, so that this sensible life may precede an insensible death." Therefore, brothers, we must proceed from what we established above, as true monks bearing great lights; the second lights are those to whom the holy double mantle pertains; the third lights are the novices; and the fourth place will be occupied by the upright laity. Would that it were so, that the laity might not surpass the three ranks, being more upright than the rest, lest the highest be mixed with the lowest, or—in other words—the world be, as it were, regenerated. I greatly desire the glory of the laity, but even more so that of the monks, so that according to the Gospel all may be one. This will surely be, if the spirit of Christ dwells within us in good order. C And indeed, I sympathize with the monastic [ideal] as well, that all may be one according to this word, in an evangelical manner. And this will come to pass if the Christian duty proceeds among us in order, in the following way.
165. Every human being is indeed God’s man, because he is also God’s work, and that the most beautiful, the best, and the first, whose seed, acceptable to God, began from Adam, the first-created man. Among these creatures, whoever has abandoned the Lord’s fold should stay outside, just as they are outside this discourse of ours. But among the men of God living according to the Gospel, the laity, whom nature has known from the beginning, all are equally obliged to keep the faith acceptable to the King; for what He says, He says to all. All, as is evident, are addicted to the same worship. And whoever has been separated by the desire for a better life has been consecrated to God in a different way, and as if chosen from the entire flock, they have been marked with a new, Lordly, and royal seal after baptism; they are "cut off," not in the manner of the Pharisees, but—if it is permitted to say—according to the celebrated Essenes, whom the sweet Hebrew writer records, and to whom the monastic cenobium is better compared. D Among those initiated in these sacred things, some fulfill the patriarchate tribe, who, being participants in marriage and occupied with the procreation of children, pertain to the lay life; but the second branch of the division embraces others. These are the monks, who are again divided threefold, and that subdivision is split into the most perfect monks, the most imperfect, and the intermediate: or, to speak as the common people do, into monks of the great hab-
habit, and into those of the lesser habit for the sake of introduction, and into those A of the intermediate mantles. And just as marriage is a communion between a lay man and a priest, so the black external garment unites the monk and the priest, a garment different in some respects, which is not that of laymen (so that nothing may be left unsaid) but rather of Levites.
196. From these things it is evident that all Christians are, in a general way, ministers of God, but priests and monks are so specifically; and of these, monks more so, as they have altogether renounced every life, both the lay and the priestly, and have chosen something else beyond that, and not only chosen it, but have also added to the chosen good, and are under the necessity of always advancing according to the purpose for B which they were born, and of rendering to God what they vowed for their salvation. Therefore, if they complete a prosperous voyage, acting as they vowed, and—mingled in the battle—contend so that they do not appear inferior to the most wicked adversary, they rightly travel the path set before them. And while they are thus truly monks because they are separated from all other men, yet in another way they are not monks. For they draw the entire secular race to them by the likeness to themselves. And thus all become one through imitation and active emulation, so that monks are irreproachable in their lay life, and conversely lay people become monks; thus also the priests unite both, and, with those who seek virtue being best transformed toward each other, C all good things are in common, not after the fashion that pleased the ancients, but after a more divine way.
197. If, therefore, O monk, whoever you may be in the holy habit, you are disposed as we have sketched, you have stood upright, and you will be able to lift up others who are falling. But if you have failed in your purpose, you do not erect yourself as a statue to God, but incline toward a fall, threatening ruin. Therefore, stand upright, and love what is so weak before God. Abandon confidence, love of power, and thus cast away anarchy from you. Dismiss pride. I say pride, not that which is from knowledge, as someone might say, by which someone who knows that he is doing good works D considers himself good (for it is manifest that he who has perfectly known all things would have considered himself so much earlier), but the diabolical one. It is that by which someone, although he is nothing, thinks that he is everything. Such was that famous Battus, who thought himself to be Orpheus. Such was Thersites, when he wished to contend with the beautiful Achilles regarding beauty. Such a pride also led the famous Thamyris, or Amyris, to the loss of his sight. And why do I not mention the greatest of all? Because of this, Lucifer was cast down and thrown into darkness. Cast away such pride, my brother. For you have learned to presume, representing a form that you are not by nature. Stop also being overly ambitious, lest...
A you come near to being vain. For in another sense, ambition is a form of virtue. Why do you wish to show off more than is necessary? By the tonsure you have been hidden; do not, therefore, make yourself appear. For seeking to be seen is inconsistent with being hidden. You chose the rugged path; why then do you run along the smooth one, where there is danger and uneven ground? You have already chosen the hardship of life; therefore, you ought not to become effeminate.
198. Just as night is cast about you for things that are unknown to the world, you yourself have not been transformed into darkness. Do not, therefore, desire to seek darkness, so as to become a night in which the beasts of the forest will pass by you, and lion cubs roaring to devour — perhaps others, but you most of all. These are the bestial B passions agitated within you and rampaging through you by night. But if it is necessary for you to be "nocturnal" for a purpose, let this night quickly complete its course into a God-given day, in which the passionate beasts lie dormant, having no power to manifest themselves; and the man of truth goes out to his work. For the ancients defined the perpetual night on earth as Cimmerian. It is better to observe this maxim: "Live in obscurity," as you have received from an ancient and wise saying. And remain hidden, not only from others by veiling the virtue of your life, but also from yourself through the absence of pride and through humility—qualities without which a man is not even considered to be living. This is the night. "Let your light shine before men." C This is the day into which such a night terminates, causing the monk to show himself—not so simply, or at random and in vain in the world, that he might shine like a lamp holder placed in the houses of men, in kitchens, at tables, in social gatherings, in festivities, in feasting; but rather that he might be kindled by the Father of lights and, being ignited from there into a flame, might shine, be seen, and burn; and that his light, if not throughout the whole earth like the apostles, might at least be diffused through many places. This is what is accustomed to happen with lighted beacons, by which, shining from on high, the ambushes of enemies are uncovered, safe harbors are indicated, and dangerous shoals, crags, and reefs are avoided, and another, safer path is taken.
199. Have you not heard the great Master saying: "Let your light shine before men"? He D who, in fact, walks in narrow lanes and thoroughfares, and is tossed about in earthly tempests, where there is fear that violent, buffeting winds might extinguish the light in you—let your light shine, radiating from above, cloudless and unobscured. Thus, the disk of the sun does not cast itself down from on high, but drives its chariot in the heights, and sends forth life-giving rays, shining not only before men, but everywhere, as it was commanded, with majesty, and drawing the eyes of those who behold it upward, and is looked upon from every side. Thus also shines the moon, emulating the sun.
as one might say, together with all the other stars worthy of being beheld. A Do you likewise the same; and while you shine, maintain a continuous splendor; remaining on high, illuminate those below, that is, the night of our life, and enlighten those who are awake, and by the spur of virtue crying out: «Come and be enlightened,» makes them look up to you and do what is salutary; some things in many other ways, as they themselves know from nature, and some things through your light.
σ̓. If at any time there should be a need for the light that is in you to be seen in some place as a reflection, for example, in a house, or in a village, or in a marketplace, or at a festival, or on any other occasion, shine there with confidence to find the lost drachma of the Gospel, not indeed to fill up the measure with negotiable goods without being invited. B For this would be the act of a beggar, and, so to speak, of a base pauper who, for an angelic robe, might wrap a tattered one about himself, take up a wallet, cover his eyes, and feign being a beggar completely, and thus be a nuisance to everyone.
σᾰ̓. Philosophize here also concerning the Sun of Justice, who was before the sun, before the ages, who always exists and shines, by such reasoning having descended to earth, and having shone upon us, and having touched the dead with His finger, and found them, and taken them up, reclaimed them, and led them back to where He was Himself from eternity. If you desire to descend in the same way, so as to have others like you kindled with zeal like God, C descend and converse among us men. But if otherwise, begone, O worst of mortals, lest the Lord of all, pursuing you as you flee, inflict punishment upon those who have sheltered you. Reflect that you are an angel of light, even if you are clothed in a black garment, that you have promised to be present to the true light, and that you are to be judged by [your] word before God, as they say, you who have promised virtues of every kind.
σβ̓. You are in debt, and most especially you, O magnificent monk. Do not therefore delay the payment of your debt. You have promised, pay. You have said it, do it. You have pledged, make it sure. D Hasten not to be a liar to God, whom it is impossible to escape. A yoke has been laid upon you; do not kick against it, lest you be stubborn. For as a heavy one, it will strike you into a deep wound; but if you bear it lightly and pleasantly, it will be manifest that you are not untamed. On that account, there will be need of a goad and other punishment. You have been appointed a guardian of a blessed vineyard in your tonsure; persevere therefore in guarding the vineyard, and you will find a worthy reward. And especially you have been consecrated to a vineyard planted by the right hand of the Most High, whose branches and shade are praised very much by the Psalmist. Remain therefore as He wills who planted you; give flowers and fruits; fear the fire into which the useless branches of the Lord's vineyard, according to the Gospel, are cast. You wished to receive a reward from the great Master of the house, therefore labor always. It is not permitted to produce a midday meal, lest you remain idle in the time of your service.
You ought not to dine excessively and to excess, lest being laden you become neglectful of the work. It is not even permitted to rest throughout the night, on account of the common midday enemy, who knows no truce even at night. For he abounds with arrows flying by day and with business traversing in darkness. That one is always working evil; it is necessary that you also be always sober.
203. I know indeed, that hearing these things from us, you think that you are suffering terrible things, as if being insulted; if indeed you, who seem to be a teacher, then hear from others what must be done. But I would never be silent, even if you were to burst with anger; and not so much on account of you, the one, the exalted one, or on account of the two others like you, whom I permit to perish; but on account of the remaining brothers, whom, while you wish to deceive, you disturb the polity of God. B
204. Now, however, having added this one and suitable example for teaching, my speech will be finished. The Scythians once upon a time, being hostile to the Greeks, made a fierce assault against them, which was borne with difficulty. Therefore, those who were being harmed, both to avert the danger and to prepare reinforcements, bargained for a truce for some time, for as many days as the approval of both parties had ratified. And for the rest, the Greeks settled into security, having placed their trust only in the oaths, neither posting sentries nor keeping watch in the manner of soldiers. But the Scythians resorted to deceit. At an unseasonable hour of the night, therefore, not with the usual clamor, but suddenly rushing upon them, they slaughtered not a few of those who were sleeping securely. C And they would have perished, having trusted only to the oath, had not the Greek spirit resisted death. For quickly leaping up and arming themselves with full panoply, they barely, yet they did, prevail. But when the Scythians were argued against for perjury, they brought into the cause only days, saying that they in no way meant nights when they had formed the pact. Thus, having brought forward only days, they would have been unjustly condemned for perjury, by rushing in at the time of night.
205. Keep also this account, O exalted one, and having nobly grafted this wild story, reap the fruit also through it, since you yourself and the brotherhood that is with you have deceitful enemies besieging you in a circle. D Even if they do not strike you by day while you are sober—that is, openly—as if pretending to keep the treaty, yet they afflict you in another way, invisibly, as if rushing upon you by night with mortal darts. So that it is necessary for you to be always vigilant, greatly fearing the robber of souls, not knowing at what hour the deceitful one will come. You will do this by remaining among yourselves, and also by standing firm, and thus belying neither the monastic life nor the monastic name. Otherwise, however, being disposed as you are now disposed, it is not possible for you to perceive vigilance. Therefore, since the terrible archers strike you, sleeping both by day and by night, they do not
they shall not exhaust their quivers, rich in all malice, and therefore, as authors and inventors of evils against us, they shall not strike—though they strike as if unto death. May this not be, O God our Savior, who saves souls, lover of mankind, master of virtue, blessed unto ages of ages. Amen. A
OF THE SAME: DIALOGUS THEOPHILUS ET HIEROCLES
B A dialogue by Eustathius, Metropolitan of Thessalonica, in which he endeavors to persuade the holy brothers not to contumeliously address the most God-beloved [the most holy priest]. The dialogue is held between two, one of whom is named Hierocles from the word *hieron* (sacred), and the other Theophilus from *theô philon* (God-beloved), the names being given thus appropriately and congruently to the question at hand. Theophilus speaks first.
1. Theophilus. Is there, O Hierocles, any good fortune even in names?
Hierocles. Indeed, O Theophilus.
Theophilus. And how so, pray? For you seem to me to have answered beside the point.
Hierocles. How so? Thus. For a man is fortunate not only when he is occupied in the prosperity of life in reality, C but also when he is so called; or, as Pindar might say, when he bears a good name—for he calls the illustrious men of good name, speaking sharply. And behold: this is such a good fortune for a man, even in names, when they correspond to the facts, since a wise man has said that deeds are inherent in words. Consider this matter also in reverse: there is also an ill-faring in names, when a man who is good, and admitting nothing worse of himself, bears an ill-omened name, and finds neither abundant nor obscure glory, nor is celebrated by good reputation, but perishes as if in darkness.
2. Theophilus. You are being sophistical, O Hierocles, and you are D maneuvering around me; not by a straight path, but having found an ambiguity of the question handed over to you, you catch me and press me. But I myself did not ask whether it is possible for men to be fortunate even on account of a name, but whether a certain fortune has been allotted essentially to the very words themselves; for these I called names. Why, then, has a smile come upon you at this, O Hierocles? Are you again splitting the question into an ambiguity?
A Hierocles. It is not mockery, O lover of God, this smile; rather, the face here flushes with a pleasant hue in accordance with a friendly disposition of the soul. Be of good cheer, however, since you have asked the second time both uniquely and securely.
3. Theophilus. And what, then, do you say to this undivided question?
Hierocles. What else, but that I deny it? For I say that neither prosperity nor misfortune is inherent in words. For no word exists substantially; rather, happiness or unhappiness is attributed to certain substances.
Theophilus. How rightly you have spoken, O Hierocles!
Hierocles. Who then, O Theophilus, is your objective in proposing such problems? For surely you did not propose this without reason. B
Theophilus. I shall disclose to you the reproof with which I accuse some regarding the acceptance or rejection of names.
Hierocles. Regarding which ones?
4. Theophilus. Concerning many others, but especially regarding the words: “sacer” (sacred) and “Deo dilectus” (beloved of God). For it has greatly pleased various bishops and others to raise the word “sacred” and its supereminence to a high degree, yet to devalue utterly the word “theophile” (God-beloved) and its extension. Indeed, if anyone hears himself called “most sacred,” he thinks he is raised to heaven; but if he is called “God-beloved,” or “most God-beloved,” I do not doubt that he is suffused with shame, as if he had received a notable insult. And for this reason, I myself, wishing to expel the term “theophile” and to bestow the word “sacred” in its place, think I am doing well. C And I myself am indeed ashamed if I am called “Theophilus,” but not “Hierotheus,” or some other such name that is accepted by the majority; and I envy you because of the glory of the name “sacred” which you bear, and I pronounce blessed those who begat you, because they celebrated you with such a title. Furthermore, I ask you, you who have obtained such a great name, what I ought at last to feel about those names. For perhaps one of the appellations, namely that which sounds “sacred,” is fortunate, and because of this it is loved and draws greater desire; while the other, though splendidly composed and announcing friendship with God, does not draw friends after it, but is despised as if it were some deformed thing. I, however, consider the name of “friend of God” to be much more venerable and becoming than “sacred,” at least as far as clear speech is concerned. D I wish, however, for your vote to be added, so that I may thus attain the strength of my opinion.
5. Hierocles. Because I look down into the depth of the “sacred,” and I see through something that is not borne on the surface, but which the sharpness of one’s gaze demands.
Theophilus. What kind of thing is that?
Hierocles. This, O Theophilus. Names, or dictio-
6. Hierocles. In an infinite number of ways. But for the present, I wish to lead you from a very few examples to the whole. Those ancients established the term "to initiate" (μυεῖν) not to mean teaching simply, but to deliver in secret that which is proper to God and to those who are inspired by Him. And they called those "mystes" (initiates) to whom it happened to learn such teachings, and upon whom, if they were carried to profane ears, death had been pronounced by those who spoke them. Thus, to "initiate" was holy, as was to "perfect" and the "initiation" (τελετή) itself; and to shout "Evan," which is accompanied by the "Evius." Holy also was to "behold" (ἐποπτεύειν)—that is, to be admitted to witness sacred ceremonies—and to sacrifice, and to pray, and the "priest" (ἀρητήρ), and the "divine voice" (ὀμφή), and the "omen" (κληδών), and the "rumor" (ὅσσα), or as it is sometimes heard, B and the "wailing" (ὀλολύζειν). What then, O Theophilus? Will you ask for other such things to be set forth, or have these led you sufficiently to where you ought to be? 7. Theophilus. I have dipped into the meaning, as far as it was necessary, and I do not wish for more such things to be strung together. But what do these matter to me for the conception of the "sacred" (τὸ ἱερὸν) and the divine gravity that it carries with it? Hierocles. It is this very thing, O Theophilus, that the discourse presumes to demonstrate: that the name "sacred" (ἱερὸς) and whatever is cognate with it—to consecrate, to perform priestly functions, the sacrificial victim, and whatever else accords with these—is divine and mystical no less than the others. Theophilus. Make haste, then, O Hierocles, and having unfolded it, bring to an end the purpose of the discourse. For I am agitated and anxious until I see how you will establish what you proposed, and I am not able C to see clearly to the end. 8. Hierocles. Listen, O Theophilus. Two such venerable utterances have been handed down from the ancients, swift and clear in their resonance, even if otherwise they do not shine with clarity: *hie* (ἵε) and *ie* (ἰή). And the *hie* seems to command, much as "go to," "come," and "come on" do; and its meaning is "send." For this reason, the beginning of the word is breathed with an aspirate. But the *ie* (ἰή) is not like that at all; for it signifies no command, nor does it have a rough breathing. It is spoken under inspiration. A demonstration of the former is in *hie*, *pai* (ἵε, παῖ), which is "send"—either an auxiliary weapon, clearly, or some other assistive thing. From this comes not only *Heios* (Ἤιος), who thus D "sends" (εἰς), or to say the same thing, emits a cry for help—as if it were *Iēios* (Ἱήϊος) of four syllables—but also *hilaos* (ἵλαος), the one who "sends" (ἰεὶς) a more divine gaze. For since the verb "to see" (ὁρᾷν) has been transformed into "to gaze" (λάειν), *hilaos* would be, first of all, God, the All-Overseer, who would also be "propitious" (ἵληκοι) to the worthy and to us, and then also the one who is fashioned with the power of seeing God. And thus, in an ancient text, has the word *hie* been demonstrated as existing. But the sense of *ie* (ἰή) is broader among the ancients, and it appears in the *paian* (παιῶν); not as a transformative indication, if one considers it, of "O healer" (ὦ θεραπευτά), that he is called this *paian* who heals medically—and it seems to have promised cure, or...
that you might not wish us to speak at greater length, O Theophilus, that the word *hie-* (sacred) appears—and such a method does not displease the Fathers—to have drawn to itself *hieron* and the whole corresponding series? Do you understand us to be saying something good, or shall we cease speaking further, lest we be laughed at? A
Theophilus. The holy name as if from God.
Theophilus. You lead me on well, O Hierocles; and somehow, having now refined [my mind] and been inspired to speak strictly, I fall upon the idea that *hieron* (sacred) means that from which health (ῥῶσις) is sent.
Hierocles. You have hit the mark, O Theophilus, and having grasped the beginning, you have finished, as the proverb says. B But to speak with the frankness that is ungrudging, you have investigated this more profoundly than we. For we indeed thought that *hieron* descended from *hie-* (to send), just as *dieros* (vigorous) and *krateros* (powerful) and the like; yet you, by adding "health" to the word *hieron*, have penetrated the sense more deeply. But since things stand thus, I would wish you to continue to philosophize in this way, even if some are offended by this, namely the austere and the morose and those who despise earthly and lowly things and words, who do not want to tread even upon the tips of the ears of corn, but are carried like winged Pegasuses in the air, doing nothing for the grammar that labors at explaining words. C Plato himself, that most celebrated among philosophers, will assist you in this endeavor, for he, too, delighted in explaining words and observing in them the natural etymology according to the cycle of nature. You have, then, while having learned some things and discovered others yourself, a word appropriate to the divine nature, and one might justly say that a word which coheres with divine things and with God himself, as if innate and entirely proper, is derived from them; and hence holiness passes over to the priest and to his office, and most especially to him who holds the first place among them. And you surely know the first and great and truly highest priest, who is entirely merciful, entirely salvation, who dedicates us as holy to himself, and renders us participants in such a good both by calling and by deed. You now have a clear view, Theophilus, of what kind of priest there is, what kind of high priest, and what the other words of this kind are. D
10. Theophilus. You have exalted these things very much, Hierocles. You have indeed assigned *hieron* (sacred) to God and have left it to remain with him, and have made it intimate by closeness; but you seemed to say that *theophiles* (God-beloved) flows down from him, as if from a source, upon his friends.
Hierocles. It is so, O Theophilus. Therefore, let that priest into the ages, and the high priest, be most piously glorified: but as for the word *theophiles* (God-beloved), I do not know for the present in what manner of speech it is appropriate to God. For such things seem to be attributed to him in their own proper sense, but to men who are dear to him [the term] *theophiles*...
Theophilus*. Say no more, Hierocles, of discussing this matter. For I have already sufficiently understood that the word "holy" and "most holy" is an august and venerable and sacred term and one that is unique in its meaning, so that it cannot be doubted that this same word is spoken both of God and of those who are dear to God, and that it is never diverted into any other sense. This is why men desire to be named from "the holy."
*Hierocles*. See, Theophilus, how much that unexamined judgment lacks stability. For it is evident that those who are swift to judge do not walk with a firm step. So you, too, when you did not wish me to speak at greater length and investigate the matter more deeply, having used a swift judgment, did well to add what you did; yet you can scarcely say how the signification of the word admits of this. For that the holy (ἱερόν) cannot be divided and, as you say, is unique in its divine sense, is not agreed upon by everyone; yet why this is, I could not easily say. For from the beginning, when we began our conversation, that homonymy in the compound word deceived you, and now you have erred in a like manner regarding the usage of [the word] "holy" (ἱερόν). B
*Theophilus*. By what reasoning, Hierocles?
*Hierocles*. Because the word "holy" itself is not restricted to one single meaning, but, like a stream, it extends into many branches, as the grammarians are accustomed to say.
*Theophilus*. Since, therefore, O teacher, you see so clearly that which I am unable to discern, take me by the hand and show me the way forward along this path.
*Hierocles*. I will measure it out for you, friend, as in a summary, how far the word "holy" strays and in what places it finds rest, so to speak.
*Theophilus*. Explain these things quickly; for I do not have time to spare to attend to a longer speech.
*Hierocles*. Do not, my most excellent friend, urge me, but allow me to set forth what is necessary with a tranquil mind. But if some other business calls you away, there is no reason I should hold you.
*Theophilus*. I shall not depart so quickly, but I will remain under necessity, lest I repent of the time spent thus far in vain.
*Hierocles*. Hear then from "the holy" that it is multiplied by the way of homonymy, and it reveals one head which is truly so, and others that are attached to it, though C they illuminate something of their own besides.
*Theophilus*. Speak more clearly; for what you are saying now confuses my mind.
*Hierocles*. You know, Theophilus, that the sacrum os (ἱερὸν ὀστοῦν) is spoken of, which was held in great esteem in sacrifices?
*Theophilus*. I know it indeed, for it is most well-known.
*Hierocles*. But what is that? Is it spoken of in the same sense as a holy man? D
A *Theophilus*. Certainly not; for I would be demented if I were to think so.
14. *Hierocles*. But have you not also learned of a "holy" snake, most wretched of all things? *Theophilus*. Good God! I hate that creature; and I know of it only by hearsay, and I shudder at the very name of it. *Hierocles*. Will you concede that it is in no way divinely holy? *Theophilus*. I concede it. Why should I not? *Hierocles*. And do you recall the "holy disease"? *Theophilus*. I abhor even the mention of it, averting evil. *Hierocles*. Add further that mention is made of a "holy" fish; if you wish to deny it, the proof is at hand. *Theophilus*. I would scarcely dare to deny it.
15. *Hierocles*. Could that creature, then, O Theophilus, be on a par with the "holy" [object] we are discussing? *Theophilus*. I deny that as well. 15. *Hierocles*. Yet it happened that you received from history the "Herodotean holy" [fish], and furthermore the "holy headland" in the *Periegesis*, and the "holy village" in Caria mentioned by Polybius, and the various "holy islands" that circulate, and the "Holy Cities" (*Hieropolis*)? *Theophilus*. I acknowledge them, and I ask for pardon. *Hierocles*. Therefore you have a cause, not having judged from your own internal reasoning the multi-faceted nature of the term "holy" arising from homonymy. *Theophilus*. I understand, and I ask for pardon. But I am anxious to learn the boldness by which this most venerable name was applied even to crawling beasts; for such is the recent "holy" snake and the fish. And indeed, this "holy" fish—the finest of fish—seems to be flattered by the appellation of "holy," because it is large and delicious. For I know that the walls of cities are also called "holy," as a term of praise, since those who dwell within are protected by them. But how the most destructive serpent came to be marked with the name of "holy," I can hardly reconcile with such a favorable designation; and I do not at all understand by what logic or manner the "holy disease" is considered to be "holy" in a god-ordained way.
16. *Hierocles*. It seems to me, O Theophilus, that you have forgotten the nature of homonyms, of which one specific thing stands as the primary, defined, and essential reality, as it has received its nature; while those others which are different in kind, desiring to share in it, snatch that name, although they do not inherit the same definition. Look at the primary dog, and then at the rest, and you will understand what I mean. *Theophilus*. I look and see certain similarities common to all, propagating from that dog to the others. The dog of the sea, full of boldness and shamelessness, lives more after the manner of a dog than any other sea creature. The celestial dog, because of its lethal nature in the summer months, as Homer says, is deservedly and rightly called a dog, since it is utterly destructive, especially when it is seized by rabies. Finally, the philosophizing dog, while others...
A treat some men kindly and others with hostility like a dog, is even more worthy of the name of a dog. For the one suspended in the air is, regarding the extent of the resemblance, as far from the earth as heaven is from earth: yet the one in the sea cannot be called very close either. The philosopher, however, is near the primitive dog and approaches it more closely.
17. Hierocles. Well done, and these things too are acceptable; we must proceed along the same path to the holy man, from whom the holiest arises, and through gradation, all that is most holy, and let us see how, as it was said, the things surrounding him obtain a name like his body, yet do not refer to the soul at all, but only B hint at an obscure image. Walls, therefore, are called holy because they protect and preserve that which is in reality something divine, just as holy temples are honored as asyla, and the holy places of the Periegesis, and the holy citadel, and the Hierapoleis (holy cities), and others rejoice in the same sense. But the "sacred bone" appears to signify nothing of the sort, but some assert it is so called from sacrifices, others say this venerable name is to be derived from the wonderful structure of the bones, just as the designation of the "holy fish," a sense which you have already perceived. The serpent, however, for the sake of euphemism, is called holy by those who, that they may take no harm, attempt to appease it in this way; in the same way also an illness is called "holy," and like a wild beast, it is soothed C and treated gently, lest it happen to attack man with violence and cause the worst harm. Have you understood now, Theophilus, the complete sense in which a man is called holy and most holy, or will it be necessary to clarify the matter with other examples?
18. Theophilus. I have understood it with precision, and I love such men, and I prefer them to those who are loved by God and those who are most beloved by God.
Hierocles. Again you do not seem to me to have grasped the sense of the word perfectly, O Theophilus. For first of all you ought to have said "holy men" and "most holy men," so that you would not confuse diverse synonyms; then it should have been observed that a man "loved by God" is also very well designated by the name "holy." For whom God loves, how will he not be D sanctified or consecrated in His presence, even as he who prays to be guarded by the Lord, because he is consecrated, and therefore also a saint on earth of God, to whom the Lord makes known His wonderful will? In such men, therefore, simply and uniquely, the one loved by God is also holy and consecrated. But to summarize the matter differently, in a pregnant and proper and unique sense, and not according to an unapproved reasoning, but according to the common sense: the holy man and the most holy man and the priest and the high priest are specially removed from earthly things and mystically contemplate divine things, so that, with such
virtue they may stand out, and of necessity exist as those who love God and are beloved by God. But if any of the others is one who loves God (for so he will rightly be called), nothing holy A will be drawn upon him by that name; but having received that alone and having obtained it, being among those who are friends of God, holy ones, and priests and high priests, he will abstain from the holy name which belongs to them, even if he should appear as the greatest among men. Turn your gaze, therefore, to the most glorious peer of the Apostles among ecumenical emperors, the great Constantine, who, while being written to in letters addressed to him as "most beloved by God," yet when he himself wrote to others, called himself "reverend Augustus," but never once arrogated to himself the name of "holy," nor did he ever hear it from others. I think, O Theophilus, that we have sufficiently clarified the obscurities of your doubt, so that there is no longer any need to dwell upon them at greater length.
B 19. Theophilus. I have grasped the understanding, O Hierocles. For behold, I have inscribed in the tablets of my soul that a man is blessed not only if he is counted worthy to be termed "holy" and "most holy" in truth, but also if he is termed one who loves God and is "most beloved by God," even if some small distinction is still left between them. Therefore, a high priest is ridiculous (for I am afraid to note him more severely) who disdains the name by which one is taught to love God. For such a one appears to be held by no love for the holy, if he considers those things holy which are not acceptable to God.
Hierocles. I congratulate you, O Theophilus, that you have grasped the matter well. But now, as is customary to be done in such prayers, let us add the finishing touch, and let us see how the "holy" excels and is accepted in a wider sense than "beloved by God" (would that it were indeed beloved by God), since you would say rightfully and deservedly that that which is beloved by God is also holy, but not that everything holy is also beloved by God, unless only by nature, as someone before us accepted, saying: "This man is holy by nature," that is, in truth. C Now if the matter stands thus, and the holy man is necessarily considered as one who is beloved by God, I would say in turn that every one who is beloved by God is also holy. Therefore, he lives in vain who does not desire to be eminent in both and to be distinguished by both names. For one must apply oneself equally to both, or abstain from both. Everyone, therefore, who is endowed with a sound mind should pray to be worthy of both. For he who is not beloved by God would not be holy by nature, nor worthy of such a height; but he will fall from it as one not beloved by God, just as Lucifer too was cast down from heaven into a hateful "holy" state, such as is already related. For he either crawls as a serpent or moves D as that sacred fish, or he will be called by a sacred name in another way, like that terrible disease. For it is not permitted to joke in so grave a matter, or to say that the name of "holy" is attributed in vain to the one who is beloved by God, as to the hawk and to the "holy" bay of Aradus, and whatever other things are of this kind, which have nothing in common with holiness. For the emperor, who is most expert in divine sacred things, and therefore "Augustus," would hear the title "most beloved by God" in vain, if the illustrious [fullness] of holiness did not immediately accompany this title. I for my part, therefore, even if I should be accused of holding to a position, would not subsc-
to those who think otherwise. Do you accept these things, O Theophile, or not?
B Theophilus. And by all means; and now, having been brought to this conclusion, I am relieved, and I love myself, as I am closely united by the calling of God to a good neighbor, to one beloved by God. I rejoice no less that, besides our longstanding friendship in daily life, I am now also related to you by the calling, by turns and by participation. For it has now been established and accepted, and has already been given, that we come to the same point—the sacred and the beloved of God, and, following that, the most holy and most beloved of God; of which one shines upon me, and the other upon you most brightly. And for these things, being grateful to you, I go off to my secondary tasks, deeming this discourse with you preferable to all other works.
Hierocles. Go, O best of friends, and farewell. And when you call to mind those things which we have treated in haste, I ask you to grant us pardon if any points have been explained less clearly.
OF THE SAME
SUPPLICATION PRESENTED TO EMPEROR MANUEL COMNENUS IN THE NAME OF THE CITY OF CONSTANTINOPLE, WHEN IT WAS SUFFERING FROM DROUGHT.
C Of the most blessed Metropolitan of Thessalonica, when he was in the diaconate and teaching the rhetoricians, a supplication to the Emperor, Lord Manuel Comnenus, as if from the city, when it was suffering from drought.
1. Our petition is a bold one, and concerns a matter of the greatest importance. For what would not one suffer, upon seeing the city, the greatest of all, raising up suppliant hands to your imperial majesty? Its boldness is altogether pardonable, and it wins favor for us, since necessity acts as its advocate. For if the impending, or rather the already raging evil—or, to speak more truly, the one that has already reached the height of severity—could have been overcome by any one of those who are set over your inheritance, that is to say, over us, and whose duty it is to take counsel in adverse circumstances, then the city would surely have been doing something superfluous by adding itself and its own multitude of troubles to the countless other complications with which your royal and sacred dignity is surrounded at every hour, D and by increasing the mass of business.
A Nevertheless, it rightly wards off such an accusation, since every will and every endeavor and the art of the lofty imperial architecture of your divine power lies low, nor can it be said in any way how it has fallen. Since, therefore, it is not possible to contrive any other solution for the evil except through the divine and most powerful right hand of God, who reigns eternally over all, we flee to your most powerful hand, you who reign with Him as a terrestrial God, beseeching with a pure mind and free from any reproach Him who alone after God can save us. We already have pledges of hope, and we are persuaded that God, to whom we continually pour out prayers for your empire, which we believe are heard by Him, will speak even now for us good things in the heart of your sacred majesty, and will open wide its affections—even if they were already stirred from elsewhere to pity for our common destruction—for he who is wholly intent upon repelling the evil would bear it most bitterly if our supplication lacked effect, after we have brought forth many things suitable for ensuring belief, without deceit.
B 2. Now that city, which is great in other respects, but now truly a "Great City" on account of your most powerful strength, cries out through us, O greatest and most divine of emperors. All the other cities, the number of which it is not at all easy to calculate, and which from the most ancient time adorn the circle of the Roman Empire, and which—their multitude being beyond measure—your divine virtue has in some cases raised up again after they had once been overthrown, while others, known only by name and plunged into the depths of the earth, it has brought to light and restored to their former splendor, and others still, which were in no way survivors of their own ruin, it has miraculously brought forth again—all these cities, I say, fare well, and remain in the favor of fortune, and rejoice in things beyond the necessities of life, and in such great abundance that not one of those who have migrated from them could even recount them. Your city, on the other hand, which itself too used to labor under no inconvenience, but enjoyed every blessing as in a paradise of delight, is afflicted in the midst of its own prosperity for a short time. For it labors under drought in the very season of winter. Behold, it is the height of winter, and the earth—one might say it is scorched by summer suns such as burn the Troglodytes. And just as formerly the water used to be sent out in a splendid fashion through the middle of the city's streets as if returning from a journey, and all who beheld it were struck by the novelty of the thing, so now the very channels of the urban cisterns, which should be rumbling as they conduct the nourishing fluid to those drawing it, are unable to do so. And what kind of channels are these, which even in midsummer send out and overflow with a copious stream of drink, abundant for the multitude of those irrigating? Egypt, too, perhaps suffers such an affliction in winter; but for its inhabitants there is hope for the summer Nile, and, refreshing themselves with a few dews of the earth, when summer shines forth, they behold their land as a sea. But for us no such hope has dawned, we who have experienced the wasting evil. For your… D
A winter-Nilus—to speak after the poets—will henceforth be to this city, when summer comes, summer indeed, or rather, a baleful burning and an igneous heat. For the cooling water, that which produces life, refreshing soul and spirit, has failed; and that which was once well-tempered now stands in extreme danger of being utterly parched. A fountain used to rise, to speak according to Scripture, and irrigate the whole face of the land—not, indeed, the whole earth, but the whole face of this city, which excels all others. But now we know not how this fountain has slipped beneath the earth, so that it flows only in a thin vein; and the city, like those who dwell in arid regions, is sad and thirsty; and if the evil grows greater, it will truly be a desert, and all will undoubtedly call its inhabitants dead, as they are consumed by wasting away. B Already we have the sad spectacle before our eyes, and the city will lament the affliction of its citizens: those who are in good health of body will by no means be able to maintain that health because of the difficulty of the times, while others who are afflicted with disease and lack all refreshment will only with difficulty recover their health.
3. Therefore, the whole city pours forth its hearts in the sight of your most royal kindness, and we implore the outpouring of your mercy upon us, making our request with weeping and shedding hot tears. Extend your divine hand, and by your command lead the water C onto the land, not merely for a day, as Scripture says, but for all time, through which the strength of your empire may endure. "There is no water for the people to drink; give us water that we may drink." But that indeed said the murmuring and stiff-necked people to the servant of God, Moses, cursing their provider while the food was still in their mouths. Yet though they were such, they were nonetheless heard. We, however, are a docile people, servants well-trained in faith, a people mindful of benefits, most grateful, deeply understanding who is the lord, who is the savior, who is the provider (for otherwise we would be more stupid than the beasts in the prophet that know their masters and possessors); we therefore, D worthy not to be rejected, implore with the greatest desire.
4. Your mighty majesty once extended its powerful hands in that dire earthquake, and whatever this trembling earth cast down to the ground, your piety magnificently raised up, and supported with countless expenses and a profusion of gold that exceeded all measure. Therefore, the columns stand proclaiming such munificence written upon them, as do the divine temples from every part of the earth, which the trident of that calamitous disaster had shaken and cast down.
5. Be therefore, most beneficent of emperors, as you once were to those, a certain gold-flowing Pactolus, pouring forth much gold for expenses; so also to us, be a Nile that mitigates the summer heat, or rather, be both to us, pouring forth for your city both gold and living
A waters. The voracious throat of fire, not a long time ago, rushed into it with its whole mouth and almost swallowed it, and ravaging everywhere, it devastated its beauty. That which only lately possessed its own proper ornamentation, and its varied and magnificent finery, from which the violence of the fire has again stripped it, let it rejoice in being clothed [anew] by your dextrous hand.
6. Now, indeed, it suffers not because of water surging in tumid waves, nor because the measure overflows. May neither this nor that other happen, O Christ of kings (for who would desire it to perish either by fire or by water?), but now that the water has finally failed, be present, O emperor crowned by God, as a most ingenious helper, and imitating B even now the God with whom you reign, bring forth not winds that cool, but water to vivify the whole city from your treasuries. Truly, God had said to Gideon: "Bring down some of those who are more skilled in war, and there I will test them for you." But God has already tested us in the sight of your majesty, and we are all strong in the hands which we raise to God for you every day, and thus we struggle with the enemies as much as we are able. Would that we were led to water, not for the sake of a test, but for refreshment. How grievous it is that other cities are filled with perennial waters and grow rich in the glory derived from them—the Cydnus, the Tiber, which flow around cities on both sides, and other rivers friendly to cities—while your great city C pines away from a scarcity of water!
7. Let this royal water therefore come to us, dividing our city in two, and more justly named after you, the great emperor, than was the Choaspes after the king of the Persians, which ancient report truly called royal drink and royal water. For this you will grant, and you will make the abyss of your mercy flow forth eternally. That river, however, O emperor, received its name because the king rejoiced in drinking its water, although he himself took no care for the river. Behold, we also shall cry out with Elijah to your majesty, slightly changing the words: "The Lord lives, if there shall be a drop of water in these years, except according to the words of your mouth." Send forth a word from this, and, as David might say: "Waters shall flow." D
Address to Emperor Manuel Komnenos. When he was elected Metropolitan of Myra.
A Sanctissimi Thessalonicæ domini Eustathii allocutio ad potentem et sanctum imperatorem dominum Manuelem, cum nuper esset sanctissimæ Myrorum Ecclesiæ metropolita electus.
Up to this present day, O most radiant sun of the empire, thy rays have reached me through the light-bearing streams of the Jordan; and the radiance of thy splendor appeared to me such as one might see reflected in the purest of waters. But moreover, that sacred river leads us to another stream filled with thy benefits, that is, to the river of God, overflowing with divine waters springing forth from thence. And indeed, the fountain of baptism received within itself that Jordan manifestly poured forth, and shewed us in it the Savior Jesus, recalling the memory thereof. Our own oration’s flow hath brought hither that river which flows far and wide, and indeed in any season of the year—not like the Nile, which can bear ships only once each year and is open for navigation only at one time of the year; but the other is not so, in which the Savior King is manifest. And that was the applause of those rivers, B C ...
[Question.] Must one who has been elected and has accepted and embraced his election be transferred to another episcopal see? D [Answer.] This is not canonical, nor is it according to any written or unwritten ecclesiastical tradition; yet it happens often by order of the emperor, for the sake of some dispensation that is mutually advantageous. And this occurred in the days of the illustrious emperor, the Lord Manuel Porphyrogenitus Comnenus. For when that most wise Eustathius, who was at that time deacon of the Great Church under Phloros and Master of the Rhetoricians, had been elected to the Church of the Lycian Myreans, and had accepted and embraced the election, and was already prepared for his ordination, an imperial decree from that blessed emperor descended upon the synod, commanding them to receive Eustathius, who was petitioning to be excused from this, and to promote him instead to the illustrious metropolis of the Thessalonians, which was at that time vacant.
A Indeed, it was clear that the sovereign was being shown to be such. And this was, to speak in the language of the Psalms, a kind of applause of the rivers, and a source of delight for us. For we were glorifying the one at the Jordan, which provided the feasts, and likewise the one that celebrated the abundant flow of the royal trophies, as if rivers were clapping hands together. And in order that I might draw even more from the Davidic stream, one abyss was calling to another: that river of the abyss of mercy was calling this abyss of achievements unto a voice, no less thundering than a cataract to the ears and making it heard.
2. And this, for me, has until just now been a kind of law, and one that all were honoring, to approach the sun-like manifestation of your imperial achievements, entering into the inner sanctuaries, just as the priests of the ancient law approached God, so we too approached the sovereign, filled with the Spirit. B But now, the Jordan flows past me, and another river receives me, one which leaps forth from the graces of God as if from the fountains of the abyss; it is fragrant with oil both in reality and in name. It has been filled with wonders no less than with the waves of those rivers which are enriched by streams, and for that reason it is absolutely necessary that I be immersed in this river, lest from every side there be a confluence of the streams of my discourse into this royal river. And that I should always, as long as I live, be a part of the imperial trophies is nothing new; and it would be just, even if I were dead, for me to remain so, with the life-giving Spirit breathing upon me. But since that is not in our power, at least in the present, while I live, I shall not cease to speak. For I would be treating the graces with injustice if, after they had looked upon me so joyfully and smiled upon me so sweetly, and bestowed upon me the precious rewards of those ancient imperial festivals that return each year, I were to turn myself away and be weighed down by an inertia of speech—when it is even more necessary to be roused and to speak with sobriety. C And I should feel ashamed, too, toward my dear nursing mother, rhetoric, which, while I was still a child, and not yet even sprouting the down of adolescence, presented me as a royal orator, at the time when God first placed you upon this imperial height, and at that time opened the spring of eloquence, and afterward revealed it as even more vehement, flowing forth like that first one, yet more abundant—whether it is more beautiful or more copious than that aforementioned fountain, or whether it emanates just as indivisibly and tranquilly, and flows just as straight from its outlet and runs without circuitousness, I do not know. But here I apply to myself the evangelical curse, and I do not deem myself worthy to behold your majesty, which you have exalted by your noble deeds, D unless I should become that child of time past, when I welcomed you, the emperor, with eulogistic speeches—and remain in this gratitude through my whole life, even if, just as then I was stammering the letters of eloquence in a manner unworthy of the festivities, so too now, as an old man, I speak with a trembling voice. Should I not rightly be accused of the crime of ingratitude if I were to lock my tongue in my mouth, and refuse to raise my voice and hold discourse? For indeed, most beneficent of kings, you have raised me from the mire of affairs into the shining light, and have transformed my humble life into a golden Pactolus, and your open-market
A for courtroom eloquence you have adapted into an elegance of speech for me, and me, speaking humbly, you have exalted on high; that which in me was earthly, you have made heavenly, lifting it upon the pinions of Hermes, and you have polished my stuttering tongue, and have given the power of speech to a veritable infant, and in place of the name for which men who study letters consider it worthy to have some small care, you have brought forth for me a name above every name judged by those who surround me.
3. I judged that I ought not to be silent this year, but more copiously to address and publish the royal deeds. At present, what would an orator do, holding his stylus in his hand as if it were a javelin, dipped in ink instead of poison, ready to be cast at enemies and to be plunged into their blood; he who might see those men standing in amazement, and, without even being provoked, taking to flight? He would surely describe the stupendous royal virtue through which these things have come to pass, through which every cleverness of the enemy limps away and is rendered null, while the royal army B struggling against them exerts no effort at all, and soon, for this reason, the orator's stylus itself, at least insofar as it is brandished against the adversaries, grows sluggish.
4. O royal power, through which good things have been perfected for us! O most serene spring of royal authority, in which every good and fruitful tree has blossomed (whether from the air, or from the sea, or from the earth, or in one word from whatever quarter), and the King of all, Jesus, has erected a magnificent trophy against bloody and eternal death! Yet you, O salutary emperor, I would boldly say, have fought against that war, the scourge of mortals, and have cast down this deadly evil to the depths. And now the teachable world lives happily, and cries out against war, and the very zeal of the warriors desires peace. And indeed, nature acts and performs without tumult, C and everything is increased and made complete. But war, gnawing at life, does not remain within the bounds of anger; but, if one may so speak, it is transmitted beyond the ocean, surrendered to the Harpies, and no longer settles, interrupting the course of nature, like a heavy and monstrous stone; but it is broken, or rather snatched away from the midst of the sea. The Scythian bow rests, and the string stretched into empty space, and (as the poet might say) serving only for the experiment, whistles like a swallow. The horse is displayed for the amusement of the Italians alone, for the sake of exercise. But if those men rage at one another, let them arm themselves; let them contend, if they wish, and let them perish, provided that we have no part in these matters. Moreover, the sons of Hagar have already cast down their arms before the royal feet and have breathed out their souls. But their ferocity too has been tamed, and in place of the bow, D the plow is in their hands, and the earth is split into furrows; in place of the sword, the sickle by which grain is cut; in place of the war-horse, they impose the yoke upon the ox; they tread the ways, and trample the threshing floor with the feet of horses. And Mars, that raging pestilence, has ceased to dwell among them, but they wisely yield in honor of Ceres.
A And those who once in the past wandered broadly even over the Asian sea, and boasted of their maritime empire, have now not only removed themselves from the vicinity of the sea, but the majority do not even know it, save by name alone, having fled to remote inland territories from their previous habitations near the coast. When first Alexius, most illustrious among emperors, had repulsed them and banished the evil afar, then John, who rightly deserves to be called excellent among emperors, overwhelmed by his trophies, drove them further away and dislodged them from their neighboring possessions: thirdly, after them, the most powerful emperor—who has encircled with an ocean of achievements the land of their crimes—himself rose up more mightily and hurled himself upon them, so that the sea can now no longer be seen by them. And of these three waves, as it were, one turned away from the sea the confused rabble of Hagar; another banished it further; and the third drove it far from sight and transformed these masters of the sea into inhabitants of the continent, so that it is difficult for our sailors to recognize the face of an Ishmaelite, and for them, in turn, it is a most rare spectacle to see the sea, except for those who travel for trade and those who purchase pasture from the plains, making treaties for the sake of their beasts. B And an Ishmaelite who no longer knows the sea would now draw out many tales pleasant to the ear. You indeed have thus interrupted the flood of their insolence, and forced it to flow backwards, and as they say, upstream; yet hope soothes them that they might run, as they say, against the current and reach what is desired. Not so, indeed; but you frequently block their channels and drive them back with force to their very sources. Moreover, nothing would prevent this from happening quickly, had not that evil, which had been fervent from ancient times, erupted from deep abysses, and had the wave not spread broadly and occupied the whole land which we name for the risings of the sun.
5. But this will be when God grants it, He who fulfills all the petitions of your heart, and who with a mighty hand has seized the springs of this river, which you have already begun to force back and compel to recede. C Even now you contain that flood and force it to flow back, and to sink into the secrets of the earth, keeping the enemies off with walls, strengthening the roads with solid fortifications, and entrenching your people against them with an insurmountable rampart. It is a joy to see roads, formerly impassable to Christians, now well-trodden and wide open for travel; and not only for men, and those in arms, but also for those lightly equipped for the journey, and where the traveler’s sword is worn with difficulty and only for the sake of ornament. Now even women dare to attempt those roads, and even those who travel for pleasure, or those whom an ardent divine longing for the holy places makes travelers thither from the city. D If, therefore, an ancient king once made a river that had risen insolently, and was dragging beasts of burden into the deep and was terrible to men, fordable for a woman by minutely dividing it with countless incisions, and others indeed venerated and praised this royal deed; I, for my part, doubt those things, and I consider that the cut-up river was devoted to the Furies, and the sea scourged, as once suffered the Helles-
Hellespont. But I truly judge it to be a work worthy of great royal power, to have made a region, very large indeed, and situated at a most opportune time, but otherwise impassable and inaccessible to those wishing to traverse it—not because it was B deserted, or infested with beasts, or rugged with protruding rocks, or because a dense thicket blocked the travelers; but because it held obstacles for all on its paths, and bristled like grain with Ishmaelite weapons, and (if one may so say) was fenced about by an iron wall, and debarred us—to have made it passable for those wishing to travel through, even for those who are cowardly at the sight of combat and iron.
And what place will one ever find for a miracle like this by us, O most manly of emperors? Even we ourselves now venture upon this land, men girded with no iron except the pen-knife by which the reed is trimmed, and the writing smoothed and scraped away. We are indeed so persuaded that if any strange onlooker should ride through those regions, he will expel this evil, provided he but invoke your name. Nothing harmful will befall us, neither the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day. Those who tremble at the herald will fear him who is proclaimed. The royal name will be for us instead of a herald. We shall pass through as if to a festival, inviolate. We shall open our eyes and, looking around, we shall marvel at your works. We shall map out your victories. We shall travel around the places where your beautiful feet trod, laboring on our behalf and running not without danger. And this land will be for us in greater veneration C than the land in Europe which the Thracians held in honor, over which the king of the Persians walked when he marched against Greece. Thus, even here, you have driven away that which oppressed us. Thus you have freed us from all fear, and have filled with men that which was otherwise beast-ridden on account of the beasts from Ishmael. One might have called those wolves, which once upon a time leaped upon the Roman inheritance, rejoicing in the blood of Christians, and not rejoicing in vain, but seizing and devouring. Now, however, some have been driven out by arms, others have ceased to be, and others have laid aside their ferocity. But above all, from wolves you have changed them into men; and what the potion of Circe is said to do, this, in very truth, the fear of the emperor has now accomplished, but in reverse—not indeed by turning men into beasts, but by divinely converting those into these. And one single flock is gathered under one preeminent shepherd, the divinely inspired emperor, with the beasts nowhere to be found. D Therefore, there are not parts for us and other parts for the nations, but all things are ours. And you, on account of this, are an emperor invincible over all; and now war is bound through you, not with a bronze chain, according to the old saying about Mars, from which, if he were loosened, he would be freed after thirteen months, but with an unspeakable, inescapable, and indissoluble bond, so that not only with military weapons, as the saying goes, is the spider’s web woven, but the very name of war is abolished. What could the boastful Greeks say, who so extolled the victory of Antalcidas and the peace that followed, if they had known ours? Where such blessings of victory, as
A to course through the whole earth, and to have peace as a companion? It is sweet, indeed, when the sea has fled the winter and is spread out toward spring-time tranquility, brightening the surface, which is now without waves; but this spring of yours to us, and the release from winter warfare, and the serenity of peace, there is no degree of pleasure which they have not surpassed. O those past wars, in which you turned the entire enemy to irrevocable flight! O the storms that you have turned for us into clear skies! O those former martial earthquakes, which once undermined and shattered the very foundations of the Roman cities! But now our cities are B established on firm rock; such as had fallen have risen again in equal number, and those that feared to fall have been strengthened and propped up in safety; and ten thousand have been built anew with towers, where it was opportune. For you anticipate future events in these things with a keen eye. Thus you trip up the steps of the enemies; thus you measure out to them a narrow land; thus you contract their habitations. To have strewn the enemy’s fields with iron caltrops, so that their feet, being fixed, would deceive them, and to have sown the fertile fields with salt, so that the land that was previously fruitful might bear them sterility, and to have dug pits as traps for horses and men, and to have poisoned the waters—there is nothing noble in any of these things (for how is that which is fraudulent noble? How is that which is deceitful manly?), nor is it even heroic to destroy victims by a noose; for a short time brought these things to an end. But to have scattered Roman garrisons and cities filled with armed men throughout the entire land of the adversaries, this truly was a work worthy of military science. This has caused the fortified cities to overthrow the enemies no less than iron spikes. For it deceives their steps toward easy movement, C and is fixed in the land of the barbarians like a snare which they cannot avoid, so that they have no power to harvest the usual fruits from the earth. It also opens up as if into a very deep pit, so that it may drag them down to destruction. It is also poisoned like a lethal venom, by which you surround their lives with dangers and measure out for them but brief days. Such a warrior have they experienced you to be: ever-victorious, resourceful, very crafty, a besieger of cities and also their defender, you who can do all things with God strengthening you. Therefore they have laid aside their pride and have been brought into servitude to you. They know your illustrious deeds, they know your great works, and they themselves, having experienced them before all others, are not ignorant of the excellence of your achievements; and, in the manner of the kings of old—who, if I may so say, maimed—you have struck them through the very center of their hearts. D They have experienced your invincible hands; they have learned that you are wonderful in counsel above the sons of men, and powerful in war, and moreover unconquerable, with a soul flashing like lightning, a right hand thundering, prompt in advising, swift in riding and in drawing weapons, so that no one surpasses you. And this was the best order and consequence of nature. For him whom they saw as excelling among the first fruits of man, when the grace of physical vigor was not yet sprouting and blooming, nor did the meadow of his face yet flourish—what kind of man were they to expect him to be when God advanced him to the perfection of a man? Truly, altogether
A such a one as would chasten all their madness with wounds. Those men know these things, and the whole earth as well.
6. But I shall proclaim to them also the things of Europe, not because they do not know them. For how could they have escaped notice, where the fame of his triumphs has resounded throughout every land, and the whole world—so to speak—celebrated with hymns the fall of the European enemies, and the account of those barbarian slaughters traveled to the ends of the earth, echoing in the hearing of all? Just as men imagine during an earthquake—suspecting that the peaks of mountains have been brought down from their foundations and have begun to shake the nearby ground and to unsettle all that is held fast—so too here, B save that it was true, the haughty, surging pride of the European nations collapsed in tremors, and fear crossed over into Asia, and shook the foreign tribes, and the eye of the emperor, like that of God, looked upon both sides and made both this one and that one tremble. Therefore, those who inhabit that land which the sun looks upon as he first opens his eyelids do not ignore the noble deeds of the west. Indeed, there was no necessity to speak of such things to those who have already learned them; but the fervor of my loyalty to the emperor has forged my tongue into an articulate bronze, which knows not how to be silent, but speaks even to those who know, and does not go through the crowd. For who would not wish to revolve such things within himself throughout his life?
7. I shall therefore proclaim as well the other illustrious deeds of the European emperor, which time, drawing them forth from among countless others and, as it were, dictating them to me, shall grant me to recount; and indeed, also those against the Dalmatians, who, forgetting their most ancient independence and ferocity, have recognized their master and no longer look to their freedom. Yet they open their eyes freely, and, their fears having been dissolved (for they have experienced the emperor as a cheerful master), they are bound by that piety which befits servants—though otherwise they are free C and possess that which is in the Gospels for the good and faithful servant, and they receive kindness in return for their duties.
8. In addition to these things, I shall also proclaim those of the Paeonians, a very great nation, and one that has overstepped its ancient fame and old boundaries. I shall cry out that if any one were to guess, they would be seen as men who have just now learned of order, war, and martial weapons, rather than as experts in them. Thus they have unlearned how to raise their weapons against the Roman emperor; and those who were formerly unstable in their counsels and wavering—no less than the Ister that flows past them, which they relied upon as a rampart for their security—now stand fixed by the fear of the emperor, and in one prudent, stable, and auspicious will, which commands not that they should expose themselves to dangers, but that they should fall at the emperor’s feet, D and after their temporary confusion, be raised up again, and eat the good things of their own land. And still...
A they foresee their own heads being struck by those iron-studded clubs by which they were crushed; still the marks of those blows remain inscribed upon them. Therefore, the club is terrible to them even at the mere sight of it, even at the mere name of it. And (a truly wondrous thing!) while they sustain the sight of other weapons and look upon them and remain in their place, suffering nothing unusual from the sight, yet when they behold a club, they tremble. And if any Roman man travels among the Paeones, he is met with friendly shouts for carrying a sword, and girded with a blade he is thought charming and finds hospitality; he frightens no one if he carries a spear, but is looked upon with a steady gaze. But if he should display a club equipped with iron, or one that human ingenuity has whetted into sharp points, the Paeones shudder at that club-bearer and do not receive him as a guest; they look at him with grim eyes, gaze at the weapon, and turn themselves away, calling to mind how, just as briars sometimes prick those who pass by, so they, struck by the club, were laid low, although they were covered all over their bodies with armor of every kind, or if I may so call them, iron men; they could not be wounded or injured by weapons, but they fell when struck by those staffs, and were crushed by the blow like a shell, when, as one might say, that not-good flock was ruled by your power, like that of David, with an iron rod.
9. B These things, therefore, I will never cease to proclaim. I shall propose for a more extensive account how much the foaming Adria, that treacherous serpent living in both domains, that muddy frog—most of all (lest I seem to name the men by their misfortunes) how much the piratical tribe of the Adriads, that deceitful, malevolent race, indeed plotted, but remained in empty endeavor; and though it stirred itself greatly, it could achieve nothing, but labored in vain; it devised many things, but not only did it not reach its end, it even saw its machinations turned against itself, all of which Ancon returned upon them from every side.
10. These things, which we then celebrated with jubilant festivities, I cannot keep silent, nor the great whale, the new Typhoeus, and how it long wished to stir itself and produce a roar of waves and vomit its foaming surge against us, but could not accomplish these things. Truly C the emperor’s fear, like a thick mist falling upon the serpent, as it happens even to the heavier whales, forced the beast to remain in its own haunts. But when, some time before it thought to move itself from the West, led by insolent audacity, the sea-beast sent ahead its most contemptible fish—which first crossed the sea, shaggy with some scales or armor fitted for naval combat, and which displayed its back, with its head more audaciously raised, and in its joy danced in vain before the city nurtured by the sea, and swelled with arrogance. Yet soon the audacity of the leader of the way departed; the mist of cowardice arrived in its place, and settling more thickly, [forced it] to withdraw
having neither touched any prey nor fully restored itself to its proper state, to which it was dashed and broken here and there. What, O those present, would this beast suffer, finding itself so vexed from the moment it was seized by fear, if we were to add further those things which it has lost on our side? Truly, another Mount Etna would have been needed, under which this Typhon-like evil might be subdued. But time will teach what it will suffer, and will give us the occasion for much agreeable discourse.
11. To these [matters] I shall add something else worthy of admiration: those great ships which, not long ago unfinished, today our strait has displayed splendidly equipped. Indeed, the harbor was expanded and fortified for security, while those [ships] were engaged in a real Pyrrhic dance, and the resonance of the oars, being stirred, clamored loudly, sounding forth terrors by which, in time of need, they ward off enemies. I will measure their multitude, as being numberless, in myoparones, in swift ships, in triremes, and other types of equipped vessels. And to them even these will be a cause for wonder. B Indeed, time will strike them with even greater amazement when they learn that yesterday, while that place was arranged for the safety of those warships, they were empty of arms and other things which make for swifter courses, nor were they equipped with a naval force, nor adorned with that by which a ship is propelled or by which battle is engaged. Thus it was yesterday. But in the morning the day shone forth, and the imperial command came, and that out of necessity. The deficits of the triremes were repaired; the shipyards were emptied; and the soldiers stood ready, while the spectators stood mute. The Propontis showed nothing of its surface. Someone might say that our sea was similar to the great city, populous, just as that is with buildings, so this one with mobile houses. C It was therefore an image of a very great naval battle. The trumpet sounds, the rowing resounds, courses are unfolded, ship captains shout, weapons glisten, soldiers roar; in a word, nothing is lacking for combat except that the enemy does not stand opposite. To these prodigies, in my explanation, I will add that these battle lines are by no means alien or foreign forces, but this army is indigenous and for the greater part arisen from the continent, nourished by the greatest of cities, and they have never abandoned their fatherland, while the ships [came] from the nearest neighboring places, which a traveler might go around in a single day. Such things indeed do I say; but those hearing will be stunned, and they will marvel not only at the imperial foresight in these matters, but also at the great power. And from this improvised miracle of the prince, they will perceive the excellent works that were devised, and furthermore, from these sudden [deployments] they will recognize things prepared over a long time. What would not one right hand do, thus overcoming adversaries, if it should be compared to a hundred-handed one? D If a single wave rushing upon enemies should submerge them, what would they not suffer when overwhelmed by many bellicose waves from the emperor? These things they will bring upon themselves, and will utterly hiss away that nation which has willed to resist such an emperor, who at once nods and
has brought his act to pass; he has spoken, and what was commanded is accomplished. They will also judge those men to be ridiculous, who, while seeing the entire earth bowing down before the imperial power, nevertheless dare to trust themselves to the sea and set their hearts on ruling tiny islands, just as if the very name of the earth did not also incorporate the islands; so that from this result they are left either to perish in the depths—which is what they will indeed experience—since nothing is left for them A in that sea, nor even of the island itself, the place where our emperor, after God, is the monarch of the whole earth. B Nor indeed have they themselves been left unaffected by the evils from that source.
12. A portion of the narrative shall be placed here concerning the king of great renown, who hastened to us from Jerusalem, astonished both by hearsay and by deeds, having recognized from afar the wonder of the emperor, by whom he had been benefited and with whom he had been knit together; a man, moreover, who was oppressive to his enemies when attacking, and who, through the imperial hand and exertion, opened the deepest graves for that nation, as many as dared to covet the Life-giving Sepulchre. Having desired to behold the emperor, that he might thereby be strengthened against those who were devising plans hostile to God, he gave no thought to the roughness and great length of the journey, nor did he bring to mind the perils of the deep sea. But, setting aside both these things, provided only that upon arriving he might be able to worship in prayer, he nonetheless determined on the journey by sea, not because it was more pleasant C than traveling on foot (for who would prefer the abyss of Hades to solid ground, and the traversing of the veil of death to walking with a firm step?), but that he might more quickly enjoy that beloved sight. And so, having been freed from the circuits that the Issicus Gulf and its surrounding seacoast wind around, and cutting through that circulation with the favoring of the fleet both by winds and by hands hastening the voyage, he arrived and was himself sated with the nectar of conversations, with the ambrosia in [the emperor's] discourses, and with the rest of the imperial sweetness. He also experienced that manly vigor which shows a warrior to be most valiant even in deepest peace, in gymnastic horse-riding and other exercises, and in whatever repels the inhuman men, D the wild beasts of the mountains, into their lairs, so that they might not, by rushing in a frequent whirlwind, depopulate the region. Wondering at this, he departed as a herald of the imperial might, and thus spread abroad the power and terrified all the neighboring enemies, whom those offspring of Ishmael, recalling his memory, will, in my judgment, also wonder at. For neither were they themselves exempt from the evils stemming from him.
13. A miracle, which will be a wonder upon a wonder for them, is that not only did that king journey to us from the southern region, but another has also recently been sent by us to the northern parts of the Paeones, a prince ruling over a territory no smaller, if not indeed even greater, so that even kings might travel toward us, setting out to behold the emperor who commands all, and [to entrust] their own power to him.
A
14. I shall now call to mind how many Ishmaelites, how many other kings our city has seen cast down at your feet, had they not themselves swelled with a certain arrogance. For those A leaders of the Italians, not thinking good thoughts, showed themselves to be enemies, uplifted in their souls; as long as they had your right hand conjoined with them, and the light of good hope, like a pillar of most divine fire, illuminating them, and the fear of you moved against B the enemies, rushing on like a cloud and a darkness placed before the face of those pursuing them, they proceeded bravely, were introduced into the way, and passed through securely. But when they were left relying solely upon themselves, and there was no longer a pillar of light, and the cloud was absent, they did not advance as they went, but lamented to the very end; returning, however, they were tossed by misfortunes and were overthrown, and, deprived of your protection, they lay exposed to evils, strike by missiles as if by hail, and were repelled with much blood shed; a period of calamities which they suffered not from strangers, but from their own people, B just as once it happened to the ancestors of the Italians, when the power of the Romans, the wonder of kings, the great Alexius, was girded with arms.
15. But why do you open your ears to the name of Alexius, O sprout of the purple, showing an attentive ear to this royal voice, and rejoicing in the well-known C name? Rejoice both in the thing and in that name, and raise yourself up to the likeness of your grandfather; in one word, implant within yourself the image of your royal father’s virtues. That Alexius the Great was grateful, and worthy of envy. Full of graces, a most venerable grandfather, and such a one that those who wish to be formed according to the perfection of royal dignity may emulate him, as the most celebrated of kings. Your father, however, is the utmost sweetness, or rather, grace itself. But why do I flee to ancient things, when here there is present a most recent good, most D excellent and most powerful, flourishing with paternal, as it were, beautiful inheritances of virtue, with which the family abounds? But to you, O splendor of the purple, my speech properly pertains. For I will not place you, a great work of God, in the second place of discourse.
16. For I indeed, as I was saying, would not bring these things to the ears of the Ishmaelites, fearful lest I might raise their eyebrows at them. But I will call to mind how the one among them who bears the great name of Sultan (for give me leave to use the language suited to the listeners) also came across to us, and the city of Constantine saw him acting as an ambassador for himself, humbly entreating the Lord of the Earth for a pact, and hoping for his own happiness from the serenity of the Emperor, and not seeking it through another. For why should a wise man taste royal sweetness through the lips of others?
A Bringing these things to the memory of those men, I shall put to shame the barbarians, having humbled their pride, since you, O Emperor, are conducting such illustrious triumphs over them, and by your fear alone you lead before the public—as though they were parading themselves—those who were once most hostile; and that which no one until this generation had accomplished in the greatest wars, you have yourself brought to pass thus easily, and, so to speak, without labor.
17. But I say that this portion was easier and without labor, forgetting the totality of the circumstances. You labored at first. You waged war frequently. You fought for our sake. Your hands were heavy with weapons. You were wounded on our behalf. You wounded the enemies, to such a degree that it is not possible for them even to be numbered. The river of your sweat saw you being washed more pleasantly in it than Alexander was when he was submerged in the Cydnus. You reduced those who resisted to slavery. You brought low every enemy, every warrior. Because of this, everyone falls down before you even before meeting in battle (for why should they fight, when nothing awaits them but destruction?), and they submit themselves to your rule, and bind themselves to your triumphal chariot. And for what other reason do so many famous lords, scattered throughout the whole world, come to us continually and strive to live with us—men who do not have one lip, nor one tongue, but who, pondering with a prudent concord and deliberating among themselves, know well whom they should choose as their one and only master after God, thus yielding themselves to your illustrious triumphs and bearing witness to your victory over all, a victory that is divine?
18. C Nor will I here keep silent about Neeman, who at other times provided me with brilliant speeches, being unreachable, and not long ago also drew my gaze to himself in amazement; a man not of the stature which nature bestows upon men, but raised to greatness and conspicuous in appearance; a man who, before this, had practiced to be manly, and learned to resist, and leaped into war; but having been quickly taught the good—partly by fears, and for the most part by wounds—he now himself also contributes to the triumph. And he who was once a fugitive slave, and hidden from the sight of his master, would now choose to suffer every evil rather than be deprived of the sight of him. Indeed, he runs to behold the Emperor, as though from darkness to the sun, and he is received with kindness, and enters into the joy of his master. D And he who before was not permitted to tread upon his native soil, now walks through the queen of cities, rejoicing in that he enjoys the desired countenance of the Emperor, and he presents himself as a true witness of his own servitude, not to another, but to him. He surveys with his eyes those various ornaments which express your magnificent deeds, which the hands of painters have fashioned for remembrance, both the deeds of others, and himself stimulating the nation among whom he lived toward growth, here as an armed horseman, elsewhere brandishing a sword in his hand, often arranging the army in a manifest place and marshalling the forces, and finally treading down the conquered and rugged plain in flight,
A and all that which is steep, and indeed all that is enslaved. And these things drawn, the observer approves of all, and acknowledges in the assembly of the spectacle. There is one thing he blames in the painter, that he does not everywhere call him a slave in the sections of the trophies, nor is the name of the slave Neeman inscribed in the orations. Oh, the royal spirit, through which that great nation and its celebrated prince are so humbled and led into slavery! O royal benignity, through which the barbarians do not regard their former slaughters nor their wounds, but hasten with swift course to the benign lord! But especially, O mercy and beneficence, by which, compensating for hardships, they obtain a better lot and, full of the dangers of life, prefer secure concord, and deservedly judge that it is better to touch the hands of the master than to be worn down by lashes, B so that the good of beneficence far exceeds the evil of destruction.
19. These things, and thousands of things akin to these, are raised to the greatest height as much in multitude as in magnitude, and I myself proclaim aloud, (for how could I not?) not knowing how to be mute in such matters, and all who fall to my lot. For not even they themselves will be able not to speak with us, not only because of our command, but primarily because of the divine Spirit, which is consonant and, moreover, adjusts the voice into harmony. For it was fitting that all powers should indeed be filled from that virtue, and that tongues should glow with that fire of speech, so that, just as the world is filled with your exploits, so it should be filled with those proclaiming them, and no less than the trophies, the reports of the trophies should go out through the whole world, and the whole earth should be C filled as with your knowledge, so too with your praise.
20. But these things will hold me here longer than was proposed in my oration. I, however, because a short and small time has been measured out for me, wish to attend to other matters, if by chance a narrow space of time might be measured out and granted to me. And because the Jordan attracts the listeners to itself and, as if seducing, draws them on, and all run to it, I will attempt something august by which I may hold the assembly for a while. Let us therefore oppose to that beautiful and royal one another beautiful water, similar to it, and thus occupy the council. The listeners, indeed, standing by such a great matter and usefully thinking that they are learning and that the good is being doubled for them, will remain for so long; after these things, let them obtain the remaining good.
21. I set before you, therefore, you who are present, the precious royal ointment, and I judge that those D who partake of this will afterward be able to enjoy the Jordan. Both these things are holy, and to be valued highly, conspiring for sanctification, both the river of the Jordan, and the ointment of the present acceptance. The latter will not be blotted out by the former, because it does not [affect] only the exterior
A but also penetrates into the soul. And I deem it, most wise hearers, a very proper thing for me as well to be greeted with ointment, and for the good to come to me from the hearth, because the great alabaster jar of the ointment is already before my hands. And well for us, most wise auditory, that you have conceived of the myrrh-pourer, whom God, having prepared for the poor as a fragrance of sweet smell, has lavished upon us: the name desired by all and (as someone said) beloved by all, which I myself also excessively love, reverencing indeed those hands of the victorious Emperor, who is over all goods a pre-eminent ornament, that is to say, the people [who have] become the work of victory; and reverencing him who supplied this victory to the Emperor, carrying in his own name that which it can perform in act, and by conceiving which in the mind any person is sanctified. Being carried in the mouth, one is filled with honey, or simply by pronouncing it, one has brought forth a great victory. Some of the victors received surnames, and having been proclaimed leaders of armies, the one sign portended a great victory, and the other signified the good leadership of an army; B but that great Nicolaus—surely no one would say that he is to be called by an empty name.
22. Grant me, then, O most divine Emperor, those vials of aromatics—the jaws, namely, of the Spirit—to greet the chief of this assembly with ointments; and with these not trickling, nor such as men of Arabia, skilled in these matters, collect from reeds, but with your own—or, so to speak, divine—ointments, with which, being anointed, I might become worthy of approaching you, when, having been consecrated, I shall evoke your excellent, and truly faithful, heavenly, and most precious ointment. When this is stirred—if it is incumbent upon me to mix into this ointment any of the external sweetness—the fragrance will be diffused into earth and heaven: into heaven, indeed, through the high concepts in theology and the gifts sent forth from thence by God, from whom [comes] every perfect gift; but into the earth, because it is carried down to us and C is diffused into all the ends of the earth. For every soul that ministers in Greek tongues as well as that of the barbarians who are not ignorant of God has perceived this sweetness of yours, which the meadows of the Scriptures promised, which the excellent nature of the Emperor collected, and estimated by the weight of the Spirit, with the aid of the great Master of the household and the most excellent ruler of these, God, while the wise Artificer tempered it, so that all things are perfect at once, and the flame of the Father joined [it] into one tempering, and mixed [it] into divine sweetness—which, multiform and truly composed of many elements, is one in theology (in that flower of wisdom), one in the contemplation of divine things, one in matters concerning nature and character, and in short, in things concerning the investigation of things divine, and all that is according to man. And this, being firmly inscribed upon the soul, is not such that it can be erased or undergo a scratching out, nor can it flow away, nor slip into the perforated jar of the Danaids, but it is imprinted on the heart like tablets inscribed by God; which, on the one hand, is adapted from the earth to the constitution of human nature, but on the other is arranged, inscribed by the finger of God from heaven, so that for this reason your soul is D also an ark fashioned by God, not only because of the manna, the sweet nourisher of all
flesh, God, who walks and dwells in you through the manna; and not only because of the precious vessel which gold composed free from admixture—that is, your knowledge both of God and of divine things, and of those which are above us, knowledge that is pure, clear, burning, and purified sevenfold by the divine sevenfold gifts; but also because of the tablets inscribed by God, which your ark contained within, which are the knowledge of things inferior to God, both of our own affairs and of the rest that have received the name of terrestrial things. And that which the very finger of God inscribed in accurate and well-ordered fashion and deposited in you, being well-discerning of their natures and imprinting them upon your mind, which is adorned with all truths, and, according to David, thoroughly knowing the wonder of God's works—not simply, but B intensely—whence these tablets, as being concerning nature and arranged after heavenly theology, appearing somewhat lower and treating of terrestrial things in the manner of an earthly impression, are yet judged to be inscribed by the divine finger of God’s contemplation, on account of their immunity from any error.
23. Thus do I conceive the manna in you, thus the vessel, thus the intricate dignity; and for these reasons I set you forth as the ark of the divine testament, in Word. And that I may circumscribe the whole thought in a small space, and compress that ark into a narrow embrace: it bears divine manna, or whatsoever is most divine in knowledge, clear and penetrable by no error, such as the gold proposes to the mind, by which, as in a mirror, the most holy letters delivered to us represent the nature of God everywhere. It also bears the tablets, that is, the divine knowledge of other things, of all terrestrial C things, and of those which revolve around us; but this knowledge was not easily effaceable nor merely lightly written, but was firmly and most deeply inscribed. Thus you have conceived both divine and human matters in your mind; the former, indeed, as if hidden in gold, the latter as firmly and permanently inscribed, or, to put it otherwise, both of them indelibly branded onto a memory which knows not forgetfulness, to boast of.
24. Now I have said, in another way, that this divine ark of yours, the mind, holds manna and gold and tablets: not only the discourses concerning the most high Trinity, of which the triad of these stored treasures is the figure, and the heavenly manna, but also those concerning D the descent of the Word of God to us, taking on flesh from the clay, flesh like our own, outside of sin, to purge away defilement; of which the symbols are both the manna sent from heaven, and the purity of the gold, and the earthly formation of the tablets; both of which understandings—both of that concerning God adored in Trinity, and of that concerning the Word of God, one of the Trinity, made flesh from muddy material, our treasure—you cherish and carry with such great zeal and safely store in your soul, that no one, even the most expert in these matters of the most precious materials, would keep better watch over the custody of the treasure; and thus you have it by heart and
when need requires, you bring it forth without error, just as no one could easily produce their own name. And you desire and labor so much for those who are being plotted against, that no one could suffer so much even for their own soul.
25. A And each of us knows this, but the very stones which the great palace of highest wisdom bears also cry out: the holy tablets, upon which theological matters are laid. These stones shine with a bright whiteness and thereby reveal the whiteness of truth, and, glowing with beauty, they cast forth the reddish color of blood, and thereby manifest the wounds and the reddening of the primeval enemy of all. In these stones the pure dogmas of theology shine, and the doctrine concerning the incarnation of the Word is set straight, who from the red blood of a Virgin contracted for Himself an immaculate flesh; of these, the one stone is clearly shining, while this other reveals the reddish glow of blood, giving light; so that, just as long ago the fingers stained red with blood [prefigured] our salvation, so too now the divine impression of the fingers, because of the similarity of color, will clearly prefigure for us the Savior.
26. B Such an ark I behold in you, most divine Emperor, which is indeed drawn by oxen, not according to that typical one, nor as the eyes perceive, but rather most divine oxen: the apostles who plow the souls, upon whom first the yoke that binds those who are separated was placed. But the priests also carry it, those who are the excellent fathers of the blessed, upon whom you lay the firmness of your mind, and by meeting the enemies, you turn back the adversaries from us, the new Israel, the elect inheritance of God, and you clear the straight path of the faith, and you deem them worthy to approach, and you offer yourself to be touched by them. For it is not permitted for the unworthy to touch you, just as it was not permitted for them to touch that ark of the type; C yet it is not right to reduce you, like that one, to servitude, nor to carry you away into a foreign land. But you lead and conduct to God those who are strangers according to faith, and you bring the distant ones into the dominion of God, and you fill the sheepfold of God with sheep whom indeed God, the great shepherd, possessed, but who had not yet entered into His fold.
27. D Most divine and wise High Priest, there was a time when you too participated in this ark, when the war of spiritual discussion was thundering, when the two armies were drawn up on either side, and the ark was brought, and you (as was fitting) personally sustained it, and stood by it as it moved correctly. And all things were raised up, as God granted wisdom to the Emperor over all his enemies, just as David sings somewhere; and the opposing force fell. At that time, when you were an abyss of wisdom and spoke the things of God from singular knowledge of the word, the great Emperor himself shone with gifts of interpretation, or rather (that I may speak more aptly) he was as the mouth of God: not only did he make the worthy from the unworthy according to the holy Scripture, but he also spoke wisdom to his mouth and intelligence to the meditation of his heart.
κη'. A You, most divine high priest, even now do not cease to sustain this ark and lead it forth against the enemies, lifting up your hands for it to God, and setting it as an invincible defense against his adversaries, and causing the foreigners to cry out: "Who shall rescue us from this formidable and God-inspired emperor?" Such were the shouts that the ark of old once cast upon the foreign nations.
κθ'. B O ark, that keepest God and divine things within for an indelible memory! O world-saving ark, that hast most divinely contained the reasons of all things, so that I might also show here the other ark, through which we have often escaped, superior to the spiritual flood! O ark, treasure-house of forgotten memory, secure from guile! But what is this holy ark? These things are contained within: it reveals the sanctity of the tablets written by God, the golden vessel, and the heavenly manna. But the exterior does not have things like the interior. This would hardly be for a man even to conceive, who is alien to a perfect nature, nor does he delight in healthy ears. For truly, that ark of your royal mind is laden with the fruits of the Spirit, with which the heavenly husbandman has filled it, and reveals its whole splendor, so that by its grace it turns eyes toward itself, and ears rejoice to be attentive to the words brought forth from it, and as it were to turn both the eyes to grace, and the ears toward the things heard thence.
λ'. C As for the things which nature, best of emperors, has laboriously occupied itself with concerning you, and how great is its masterpiece in you, there will be another time for me to describe them. For distance will not, I suppose, make me so rustic that I should completely abandon the colors of eloquence by which I might trace the beauty of your eyes; the serenity of your appearance; the shining and heroic countenance; the entire symmetry of the "citadel" of the body, which the most high God has fortified for us for our safety; the breadth and solid strength of your chest, like that of a lion; the vigor of your hands, which I conceive not only as Davidic arms, prepared by God into a bronze bow when, stretched out against enemies, they cast forth death; but I further consider them as creating instruments, and with your fingers adapt D well-sounding psalteries—the tongues of your subjects—to which you yourself adapt your hands for the labors undertaken for our sake, and under the finger of God you skillfully distribute your own fingers to your deeds, and bring all things into harmony; and they themselves sing the songs of victory and acts of thanksgiving, and become psalteries harmoniously attuned.
λα'. These things, as I said before, will call for another time for me to describe, through which the eyes are drawn to look steadily upon the royal monument, and which also attract and suspend those who listen as if by their ears. But not even here must I speak at length, where the audience seizes the words, and in doing so wrongs the orator who is celebrating the festival—wronging him by their good actions, because with the fullness and many-voiced quality of their musicality they drown out the slender reed of our song, yet wronging him, nevertheless, because they obscure us entirely.
A 32. But I shall force the song, and I will recall at least one piece of what was heard, and I will bring to mind this great assembly of that royal catechist, which I had already admired in many ways before this, likening it to a sacred temple, when I saw him clothed in an apostolic mantle, radiant from thence with all things that nourish souls, filled with every good, a nourisher of the soul, a giver of life, a bestower of happiness. And I conceived of manna sent down from heaven, and raining down not upon this or that one among the nations, but upon all peoples everywhere, to whom the power of God has become known; all have become gatherers of this rain of manna, and running from elsewhere, they made it their work to assemble it, and vied with one another to distribute the good. And from this, not only as into some vessel and ark—his own soul—did B each one deposit it, but they also inscribed it in memorial books; so that not only Solomon might be praised for his wisdom, but also our emperor; and that we, being strengthened by him against visible enemies, might also receive from him strength against those who are without flesh.
33. And such things as these are what I have for the time being, and I think that to say other things is to invite approval for the most refined, that we might not be accused of sowing these same things again, as in Hesiod. But now I compare this catechist with a paradise of pleasure, in which are placed courage and alacrity that urge on to virtue, through which we might again recover the Adamic life from before the sin, that of the first creation; and there is placed also that which is in the well-being of philosophical contemplation, a life clearly the mother of those who live in God, that venerable name of Eve, C yet no serpent murmurs or hisses for destruction there. But action and contemplation come together into one, and with doubled strength they conspire against the deceiver, and cast the insidiator far from the paradise. There also the flaming sword is sharpened against them, resplendent, fiery, and altogether inaccessible; but to us the banquet of the royal discourses lies open. I gaze, too, upon the table of the sun, not such as history [alt-version omitted] has fashioned, laden with sensible dishes, but the table which the emperor, our sun, has set before those who feed on spiritual things. We saw and heard there that to which those before us had stumbled in their striving. He reigned, just as the emperor over every nation, so too this catechist over all literary matters, to which he has been assigned. I regarded him also as an ornament D of the royal diadem, for which there is no price that can be set. The words concerning the light-originating Trinity shone in it like milk-white pearls. The doctrine of the divine incarnation of the Word shone out as into the fire-glow of a coal, which in another manner Isaiah also saw as a coal. The clarity in the depth of the thoughts shone forth like a carbuncle, which knows how to set upon the night, casting forth radiance from its depth. You humbled yourself, eminent emperor, and brought down your highness to one of the multi-
-A-plied thoughts of the mind! O depth of thoughts, hiding the most high reasons as if in darkness! O light of words, illuminating the depth of thoughts with the clarity of expression! O fiery tongue of the Spirit, varied indeed, but adapted integrally to each soul, so that where the portent of the matter was greater, it offered there a greater miracle due to its singular tempering. For it was not permitted for the lettered to approach those utterances; yet they closed off the gathering to the novice; and again, they were wont to entice the unlearned man, yet he who was nurtured in letters retreated as if having gained nothing from there—and indeed, speech was not taken away from those for the sake of utility, but was withdrawn from these others. Yet nevertheless, grace shone forth with equal honor in every word, and every listener enjoyed the full measure of that grace. In which things we have an example of that tempering of forms, so difficult and yet praised by writers, by which the gravity and subtlety of thoughts are gathered into one, and graces agree with the sublimity of discourse. For just as there are some things which are at odds with each other, so that it is impossible for the roar of a lion to be in harmony with the song of a nightingale, so too can discourses not be at once severe in gravity and adorned with graces (for the one is argued to be a matter of arrogance, the other of humility), yet in that place these things difficult to temper were cleverly mixed together.
34. What then have you left for us, O most manly and most wise emperor, whether for rhetoricians or even (to say something for our own praise) for orators, when to you in these matters a nobler prize is due, both for your facility of thought, and for the easy exuberance and spontaneous elegance of elocution, which we, even laboring for a long time, have not yet been able to attain, whereas you have acquired them so without labor? And not only does this adornment in speech decorate you; but God has superadded to you, if I may so say, another ornament: a limpid voice, sweet diction, and a rounded phrase. But what the clarity of the voice of that orator praised by Homer may have been, I cannot say for certain, but looking upon you, chosen by nature above all others, I discern that it was present in you from the start. Indeed (to put it another way), limpidity raises the mind to an acute voice; but this is not something noble among voices, but is innate to the age of infants. B For an old man whom long time has led into a second childhood speaks with an acute voice, and a woman also will never lack that clarity of voice, because of which poetry called the Muses "shrill." Therefore, a shrill sound of voice is not a distinguished thing in speaking. But in my opinion, a clear voice and an acute one differ greatly from each other. I judge the one to be inferior, but I prefer the other. I hold the one to be neither manly, nor of perfect age, nor natural; but I hold this one to be perfect and manly (which indeed characterizes your voice), sounding forth from heaven with a thunderous C resonance, not indeed... D
A with a fierce and overly harsh sound, but with a simple and clear whistle, pleasantly turning the hearer toward you. Your speech emits a heroic tone. Your lips indeed, due to the sweetness of your thoughts, bring forth a harmony of the Muses; and the air, struck as if by thunder, has resounded with a magnificent, yet formidable, resonance. And one of the hearers, as if embracing your words with both [his faculties], will believe that he hears a divine voice and an angel speaking from heaven—by his hearing [perceiving] the clear voice, and by his mind [grasping] the sublimity of the thought; another, however, not penetrating into his mind but merely skimming the surface of the flow of speech, would say that he hears a peaceful thunder from on high. B We could bring in Stentor here; but I shudder at that man, who was heard roaring as much as fifty others; for I fear lest the hidden tale of the fifty [men] might undermine my address with the noisy phantom of Stentor. Why should I even mention Alcibiades, whose elocution was sweet, but whose stammering voice corrupted it? It pleased me to introduce, by way of similarity, the sound of Alexander, that greatest of kings, who indeed delighted his hearers, but had a certain natural defect. Here, however, is a voice excelling all those whom ancient wisdom designated for the sweetness of their speech. For it is not subject to any deficiency, so that there is no need for what has been resounded to the ears [of the audience] to be repeated; nor does it expand into bombast when it opens, whereby the sounds of the voice are scattered into something inarticulate. But one must speak, and the discourse must forthwith be heard as an audible clarity of utterance. Why say more? Your sound in vocal utterance is distinguished, and (as it is written) your speech is comely, and (to say it all) it is also royal. Thus, even in the smallest matters, God has magnified you, and has highly exalted all your affairs, adding a splendid increase.
C 35. We would not, O present company, put an end to our discourse on the imperial grandeurs, even with a concise address, were it not that the sweet murmuring of the flowing Jordan surpassed my own words, and it became necessary to restrain my speech, sealing it with the doors of silence. Truly, although the Jordan prevents me from speaking, and does so against my will, nevertheless I shall not cease to fix my discourses upon it, calling it by more august names: the most sacred, the most holy among rivers, and also naming it water leaping up unto salvation, a river, if not springing forth from the sensible paradise, at least transporting [men] into paradise. But how it is also royal water, I have stated at another time. Now, however, I shall add this: that the Jordan, being composed of two rivers both in fact and in name, befitted the God-man Emmanuel, not indeed by reason of a confused commingling (God forbid!), but by the union of natures.
36. Come then, O assembly, both you who sit upon the sacred dais and the rest, let us also share the flow of the discourse into one confluence of prayer,
and we, in this, shall both imitate the Jordan, which itself mingles both the current and the name from two rivers; and let us pray that, for the emperors, the advantages of the remaining entire life may be preserved as heavenly and perennial. A
OF THE SAME: FUNERAL ORATION FOR THE EMPEROR MANUEL COMNENUS
B The oration of the same upon the lord Manuel Comnenus, celebrated among the holy kings. Whether it has been handled less methodically, the literate shall discern. For since many have written otherwise, the present epitaph confesses a ruder style.
1. It was not permitted to me, who was expectantly waiting, to aspire to a crown of eloquence, or to celebrate such an emperor after death in such a way that the tongue, with tears suppressed, would not remain silent, or that in designating an excellent emperor with meager words, one might transgress against the rules of style; for, as to the dignity of a man truly Olympian, anyone who wished to celebrate him with worthy praises would need a long span of time, and there would be a danger that the intent might not be attained as is proper. But just as arduous labor in fulfilling an office conquers all things, thus there is a place where the words of the orator have carried the victory. For a mind that loves beauty will never imitate the tragedians in constructing scenic characters and expressing conversations to the life. But men of good will, to whom clear reasoning is available, light torches of eloquence for the deceased man, discharging a debt of congratulation and sanctification. C
2. Ignorant indeed and stupid would he be, and one who has not learned to be silent or to speak in an opportune place, and who does not know how to accommodate the fit time to these things. For any man can follow his master as an example in beautiful and honest things, so that if others dissent and prudently remain silent, he himself also might follow the example of the prudent and embrace the parts of those who speak in harmony, especially if a life formerly lived shows us a man who, when counsel was gathered concerning good things, would cast his vote among the first—to whom we shall be similar when we extol the virtues of the blessed emperor with praises. For we shall always and everywhere be ready for the occasion of celebrating him with praises. D
3. It would be most absurd of all, while he is still living, for there to be no urgency to excel in words, but when he has departed to where there are better things, to come behind in that former eagerness, where also
A that urgency is most required. For while men are living it is suspect whether the favor is genuine, because of the respect in one’s eyes; but when they have departed, then that honest judgment shines forth in its precision.
4. Since matters are thus, it is not for us to remain silent even now, but to speak; and in doing so, according to our usual custom, we shall not strictly obey the laws of rhetoric, for the ancients themselves sometimes transgressed their own laws and norms whenever it was permissible; yet to wander in writing does violence to logic. Therefore, he who constructs a panegyric will choose legitimate terms and will accommodate his manner of proceeding to the circumstances, following the structural outline that governs these matters; according to which no one will set forth a lineage from the beginning, unless he wishes to treat only of that. For there is no need in this place to calculate triple generations; he who does so, little mindful of himself, will not bring a protracted speech to an end; but a septenary perfection adorns this royal lineage. Even if it should be necessary to go through the dignities pertaining to it, it is itself enclosed by a limit; but those who praise according to art will flow as if into the infinite, and no space of time will be added beyond that which was predetermined; for in speaking, the strength and freedom of the writer are consumed, which he who writes with a pen does not require. B
5. Therefore, it must be said to those who are here observing the opportune moment that the kingdom did not come to the man being lauded without a foundation or without a root, for it is established upon firm foundations, the glory of ancestors, and like a tree flourishing from strong roots, it has sprouted up, whose shade has comforted the labors of those who ran to it soaked in sweat, and whose fruit has nourished all the natives. It seems, therefore, a pleasant thing that someone worthy was found who laid the foundations of the kingdom and delivered the seeds of a happy time to those who came after, and placed the beginning of a royal crown which afterwards rightly adorned so many worthy men and which subsequently obtained a double honor: first its own, and then that which history attributes to previous emperors, although the former honor regards the founder. But he who laid the foundations of the kingdom does not, however, inspire confidence for the future time; but he who follows the founder firms up the succession by adding his own virtues to those of his ancestors. C For he has examples to strengthen his mind, and, inflamed by zeal for imitation, he does not wish to seem inferior to his predecessors.
6. And what more? Lineage is not to be examined in detail here, where the record is above heroic deeds—the august nature of which may be understood by one who is well-advanced in learning, to the extent that it has been described in brief—but the rule of upbringing must be pursued, which indeed appears along with the lineage. D And...
A for those by whom the splendor of the family is increased, who shall grant the orator sufficient time, under the condition that the words uttered profit the listeners but little, while the greater part returns to himself, and thus, being struck with admiration and constrained by the activities of listening, they read philosophical books, commit them to memory, and fill their minds with the study of marvelous things? For from his very B swaddling clothes, the young man, in proceeding toward the maturity of virtues, insisted upon the footsteps of his ancestors; and by imitating the paternal character and composing his life according to good omens, he himself became an exemplar of good deeds and is proposed to posterity for imitation.
B 7. For we have truly seen the father, the emperor, proposing the best rules of discipline, and the son immediately obeying and composing his life according to them. For he indeed restrained the excessive impetuosity of the son, lest he should be carried beyond what is right by the ease of his disposition. Sometimes, however, in the delicate or childish hands of the youth (for why not?), even when the enemy was inferior in numbers and strength, he would engage in combat and return victorious; the father, while inwardly rejoicing at this, was inciting his son—who was most apt for virtue—toward it, while at the same time he was instructing him by chastising outsiders, and thus he accomplished through the royal disciple what he could not have accomplished through the example of enemies. But when the youth feared no one, the father, threatening and rebuking him with words, cast fear into the pupil, lest he should expose a shoot at such a tender age to winds that are wont to cast it from its position and prostrate it upon the ground; while the one who obeys the word and is in other respects no bad man is exalted in the struggle. But a sad battle deters and removes the good and those hardened by six hundred fights as quickly as possible, so that the help taken away did not profit them. In all matters, however, he warned the disciple to proceed at a slow pace toward acting and exercising virtues, so that having attained perfection, he might perform duties for the age; which indeed came to pass. C And he was quietly projecting his action, and, as it were, a progression by degrees in virtues according to a well-ordered increase, so that having advanced to perfection, he might be useful to the world; which also came to pass in fact later on.
8. But how, by the necessity of the discourse and the things described, can it be possible for me not to attain the whole, and to lose the object and the opportune moment of time, the end of which is an accurate narrative, apt for stirring up memory and admiration in the minds of the listeners and for bringing forth the fruits of gratitude? Therefore, by a methodical process, we must arrange these words, and as if by a water clock, we must measure the water of the discourse by the measure of time, lest it flow out more rapidly than is just, after the manner of waves.
9. Therefore, I must not even mention those signs which preceded and heralded the imperial election, lest by multiplying visions in the discourse and delving into hidden things, I might estrange the audience; since, moreover, there is no great need for such things, where what follows has turned out to be better. For there is no need of an oracle where, although the matter is great, D
A even if the great future events to which God inclines are not revealed beforehand in symbols, they have nevertheless turned out no less toward an end; for this is not because of the symbol—to which the symbol itself refers—but because the secondary thing is glorified in this, and that which preceded it as well.
10. But if every prologue is indeed good, where the competitive struggle presses, the prologue should be passed over in much measure; thus, then, let not that which is introduced symbolically consume our struggles, even if it drags with it much glory in another way, by which it disposes the emperor according to those things that are sanctified to God in the promises. For the things that are very old in such matters, and do not even belong to our own sacred court and assembly, are philosophized about in terms of dreams and visions; but as for these things among us, and all such things, God has revealed them to those who search out the prophecy, and has promised to say that which is set before [one].
B 11. Having therefore entrusted these things as well, and having rushed thus far, we shall apply ourselves to the matters that follow, to the extent of our ability. And ability for those such as us is measured by the ability to speak, with the resemblance of a sea-going ship, in order to conduct the arguments through the imperial blessings. For just as that ship, as it were in a straight line, cleaves the sea, drawing behind it only a few wakes, so that it is possible for myriads of other ships to run in the same way, and yet for the whole sea not to become navigable; so for us the abundance of speech will not be sufficient to cross the vast ocean of the emperor’s virtues, where numberless ships would not find a way out, just as the hundred-oared ship C among the poets, which abounds in the elements of eloquence.
12. And since such things are so, others guide their course as they please, favoring the fair wind; but us, the chorus of the emperor’s virtues constrains, of which we must by all means have a care. In this place, why should we not first honor prudence in all things, which seasons all things with its salt, the universal ornament which imprints the seal of utility upon human labors? If this prudence presides over the works of men, man walks in the light; but where it is lacking, the laborer runs through the darkness of things to be done, and, having avoided the light, a shadow rushes in with all the loss of stability.
13. The most sagacious emperor laid hold of this, D and not just restrictively, but most abundantly. For if there were need of a deed or a word, he never had a superior in action. By always adding his own deed to those of others, he obscured their works, as the rising sun obscures the brightness of the stars. In another way, then, he shows himself as clearly as possible, both by instructing in discipline those who felt the same as he did, and by spontaneously changing his counsel, and by persuading others about things to be done, by arguing, and by employing a persuasive genius, with the sole aid which he uses
A to persuade his hearers so that a plan once conceived might remain hidden until the time for action arrived, he would then, by remaking the deed, restore all things with that persuasive force in which he excelled, opening the treasure of his most rich mind, avoiding ambiguity of voice where the thoughts of his soul stood on roughly equal scales and there was doubt as to what should be done; but following the philosophical rule that chooses what is good and rejects in private what is not so, or even in accordance with the wisdom of the musician Timotheus, who sang learnedly before the initiates, but with a different song added, saying: "Thus I would wish my own to sing, and thus I would approve those singing."
B 14. Hence there are everywhere in the world tokens of imperial providence. And this one man magnificently distributed himself to the great regions, showing himself in action and governance, and displayed both his hands as instruments of activity, and the ardor of his prudence, and the sharpness of his genius. For in the greatest matters, where there was doubt, he brought the perseverance necessary to the task; and at his hands, the work generally pressed upon the thought; but what he achieved added depth to his mind, not being content, like most men, who are indeed prompt to think but are found less tested in action. It was his custom to produce tokens of fortitude, yet he esteemed nothing more highly than to bring forward wisdom, which we have found everywhere to be the best helper.
C 15. The Pythagorean discipline, therefore—or rather, to speak according to those who are wise in such things, this love—having entered in here and having driven out holiness from among the barbarians, prepared for us truces in war, by which our enemies were condemned to idleness. Indeed I see some singing sweetly with a light melody, by which fortitude generated peace and tranquility in the nations. For it is so, my friends; therefore begin a sharper song, and I will assist you. For fortitude and prudence are truly sisters, and they love to be joined together in the hands of the wise.
D 16. I have also in mind to say in what things the effects of prudence are discerned, and how great a head of discourse this is, which gives union to the imperial lineage from the high-born families everywhere, through which, as if through a most noble material, he wrought the composition of the imperial diadem, thus elevating its preeminent dignity and attaching these generous hands to the Roman majesty, which he will extend whenever there is need for a plurality of hands. The fruits of this excellent garment for us, and the good things which are before our eyes, with God as helper, O Queen, which
one, like the sun, has shone forth from the dawn, even if it is now obscured by a cloud—if one must dare to call such a black thing a cloud, in which the Sun of Justice, God, is more clearly seen; while the other, as if bathed nearby in the western ocean, has also shone with radiance. A
17. But let this be enough, lest the ocean of my rhetoric B burst forth and break a prosperous voyage. And as for the rest, who is more to be feared, who has been most skillful in setting enemies against one another, and establishing us in a tranquil state, and accomplishing this calm in peace? For he devised also this strategic method: to keep his own subjects bloodless amidst the raising of the greatest trophies, while hurling enemies against one another, and inciting the kin of the barbarians to wage war against them—that from this our own power might grow, and the enemy's might diminish, so that Enyalius would no longer be a common guest, nor a slayer of men for both sides—both for us and for those who go forth as adversaries—but that the destroyer of men would be allotted only to the enemies. C Thus were Persians against Persians made to fight by imperial methods; and we sang songs of victory in peace. Thus did Scythians lay Scythians low upon the earth, and we remained upright. Thus were many of the Western nations, suffering from the disease of arrogance, healed by being chastened; and the Roman people were astonished by those things, whereas, as one might not perceive, what was blameworthy in the mania for arms was healed. And the island Dragon, who wished to kindle the fire of his fierceness even above the craters of Aetna, was hindered not a little in his attack by the swords of the Emperor, and was for the most part engaged with domestic enemies whom the Emperor's arts had stirred up against him, as if he were hurling his own wisdom, sharp as a double-edged axe, from afar.
18. Furthermore, it was a work of imperial prudence not only to keep the subjects safe, but also to increase them as much as possible; and this is an increase of the evangelical talent, no less than an expansion of the divine inheritance. Certainly, if any other among those who have reigned in times past, our own Emperor has accomplished this by multiplying good things. For it would be difficult to cite a foreign tongue which he has not turned to our advantage; while some, sent to us in the name of colonists, found rest for themselves, others, expecting the gifts which the Emperor’s D munificence provided, became partakers of his enriching bosom, bringing back the reward of the primacy. And regarding the flow of riches that abounded for them, making an alien dwelling their fatherland, they judged that to be their fatherland in every instance where it was well for them to dwell. Ancient history records a certain city of slaves; and there it happened happily. For men whom nature willed to live freely, and gifted with firm sinews, and steeled with all fortitude, but who had been brought into servitude by a change of life, were led into the city of Constantine (for it frequently receives such guests, and organizes many into troops, cohorts, and battle lines)
A grieving, as it were, at that time for their masterly state, mindful like the Homeric horse of fodder and pastures and of those natural, not artificial, baths—which the barbarians are accustomed to use for the endurance of labors—and of those things which nourish the barbarian soldiers toward a softer character. And of these men, one eye looked toward home, the other looked toward flight; one hand performed servile tasks, the other wished to draw a sword against one who might be recalcitrant and resisting. Add to this that the masters, not the servants, were the captives, running here and there and protesting with dire outcries that they were plagued by so many evils from which they desired to be freed; which wish was then granted; and immediately pity flowed to both, to masters and servants, along with the royal liberalities, and the masters rejoiced that they were freed from evil servants. And so, in place of servitude, they were made soldiers from low-born men according to nature, which was pleasing to them, and they no longer languished all under the power of masters. But all who did not behave themselves liberally endured that servitude without honor, preferring a life with glory, perhaps led by a perverse disposition, perhaps because they despaired of being able to live otherwise. But those who wished to follow the camps, like soldiers who had previously been servants, obeyed, having been redeemed by public money and girded with the military belt. The inhabitants of the cities, therefore, having embraced the offered conditions of life, had successors and submitted themselves to the authority of the king, not like the Sparti most famous among the Greeks, whom fable says were born from the earth; but having been torn from their fatherland and transplanted into our region, they brought forth salutary fruits.
C 19. Further, after an interval of time, he brought more people from among those who had previously been enemies for the sake of vengeance against the Romans and transformed their ferocity into the mildness which we practice, and thus transformed our land into a paradise. And I do not name only the people of the continent, the descendants of Hagar, the Scythians, the inhabitants of Pontus, the dwellers by the Ister, and those upon whom the cold Boreas breathes, but all the fishermen of the Ocean, who gradually began to inhabit our cities as well. History is indeed full, but among other things it also records that Pompey the Great handed over an Eastern city for the pirates, whom he deemed worthy of that benefit, to inhabit. But if history deigns to record this good fortune of one city, who would not think a matter in which many cities participate worthy of recount? I would add also that no city on earth failed to be initiated into the love of the great city under the reign of the emperor, that most gentle governor. Each had an incentive for love, in that the emperor professed it to be chosen by him from among the other cities; moreover, all the rest depended on ours as a suburb depends on a great city, yet in such a way that they subsisted, while our own city today lies destroyed and of which no traces now remain.
20. In many of the councils that the empire convenes, you could see ambassadors, not just a few, but a multitude flocking in from everywhere, as if into a common territory, to set forth a system of doctrine for the others. This great city therefore beheld foreign guests, no one of whom any of our people knew even by name; for it was difficult to find a bilingual man to translate their language into our own. The purpose of their journey and embassy was to see the face of the emperor, to hear his voice, and to admire him while he was exercising himself in the gymnastic games, so that they might collect the things said of him. Thus also the wisdom of Solomon attracted many, even if not all gathered to praise him. B But in this our situation, many wondrous things offer themselves. Some of our legates have set out through fear of suffering harm, or because of a concern to find aid wherever it might be necessary, or compelled by want—the resources for which could be achieved—or through anxious care for the future time; all of which indicates that great and splendid deeds have been performed by the Emperor among us. But these things are external, and not of the same substance. However, that men should have come from afar to endure a harsh lot on the journey for the sake of watching and to change their fortune, this is not merely great, but full of astonishment. It is evident, in fact, that the great sound of thunder resounding over the things famously done by the Emperor has excited the emulation of others. C To have come from lands beyond our borders—strangers desiring to suffer hardships, such as those that accompany the length of a journey, and this for the sake of a spectacle and merely for a desired encounter—this is not, to speak simply, a great thing, but one to be divided into a myriad of wonders. For it is clear that the great roar of the thunder over the imperial feats has turned everything toward the speed of this interest.
21. But what do I mean when I speak of ambassadors adorned with crowns, D when it is possible to see supreme magistrates sent to us, either to bring tribute to the Emperor, or, after business had been concluded and they had seen the majesty of the Emperor with their own eyes, either to satisfy the curiosity of their eyes or to recount to their own citizens the things they had seen and heard? Of this order are the monarch of the Persians and the king of the Palestinians; that great one of the Alamani and the prince of all the German land, those who have rendered that road to us a marvelous one—for I hesitate to call it an impassable approach. For to enumerate the Paeonian, the Gepidian, the Scythian, and many such others—the list is vast—who (to sum it all up in a brief space) were brought to us by stupor, fear, and the search for aid. Or, rather, all these things, or some of them—stupor, at which they were astonished and stunned as they gathered to hear the reports; fear, lest it happen otherwise and they, having fallen, should be cast outside the imperial bowels; and thirdly, if any evil hung over them from anywhere, that it would not be easy to ward off that evil otherwise, unless this imperial right hand were to take hold of it.
22. Therefore, it was not to be wondered at that these things were new.
A nor that they drew to themselves the ears of those who might be moved; for they arrived from remote places. For fame flies on loose wings, and the rarity of those things which are spread by rumor is accustomed to attract the minds of the studious. But this is what added to his authority: when those strangers, having investigated, at length attained the truth, they cried out as heralds full of faith: "As we have heard, so have we seen"; and relying upon the miracles, they preserve a perpetual astonishment in their mind, especially when they extolled with praises an Emperor who shines not only from within, but also B externally.
23. He reached such a magnitude that, if anyone were to transcend it, he would be considered a giant. For nature formed him otherwise than [it did] the others, assigning him most valid and almost leonine bones, and even the extremities of his limbs, as those skilled in the science of nature judge, indicate virile strength; but the interposing parts of the body also confirm the same. Huc accedit [To this is added] the fact that his body is not burdened by the obesity of one who exercises his strength most often, so that thickness might be overcome by an intellectual man. Many things in him were indeed wonderful, but they were not monstrous. He did not curl his hair elegantly, but, content with a simple adornment of the head, he did not have hair worthy of greater display. For since divine wisdom has imparted more noble material to nature C bestowed upon creatures, it had little care for the hair, which did not gift even the lion, the king of animals, with a mane more bristly than is fitting.
24. The beauty of his color increased this elegance. For not a whiteness such as befits a woman colored his face, but [a color] tempered by manliness (as among the ancients) by contests and other gymnastic games, he exposes it most of all to the ardor of the sun. For he was not brought up in the shade, and his life is so far from having been consecrated to pleasures and wicked desires that it was always laborious with business; yet under the sun his countenance did not bear a feminine appearance, but one worthy of a strenuous man, because he was not prone to laughter, nor to [frivolous] alacrity, but was tempered with grace and beauty.
25. D When it was necessary for him to appear in public with decorum, the flower of beauty adorned him, when he was conspicuous for the gravity and dignity of his countenance; he was all radiant, his joyful eyes emitted a gravity worthy of Mars; in his countenance, a most felicitous serenity represented the level plain of a meadow, from which the lovers of these things could pluck pleasure.
26. And such was the king, when he was not disposed to anything provocative and the inner...
sea, which the Creator implanted within us, was not tossed by swells. But whenever, as often happens, something stinging and unpleasant emerged from somewhere, and it was necessary for the soul to call upon its own guard and defend itself, then his spirit would seethe, yet it would not boil over and foam like those who are fiery in their anger. Instead, the emperor would restrain himself, keeping his spirit in check (for there was every necessity that such a most august sovereignty should not be turned into play), and he was no longer the same man, but, depicting his innate character, with the prudence of a teacher he would lay aside the gentleness that was at that moment of no use to his disciples, and gird himself with an austerity which they themselves had provoked by their own sloth: for they sought cauterization, not gentle remedies. B 27. And it was possible to witness here another mixture, and a beautiful one at that. Even so, his cheerfulness did not shine with any dimness; rather, the spirit’s character colored the features of his face, just as lightning hides within, yet does not entirely withdraw itself from the view of the eyes. But anyone standing before that royal spectacle, being afraid (for it could not be otherwise, unless someone approached the lion, quiescent yet with eyebrows knit, entirely unafraid), and his vision being confused by that display, so that he sees only the outward appearance and does not penetrate into the inner radiance (for the mind, struck with wonder, fears to investigate what often escapes the mind, and dwells on the surface of its judgment), would prefer to die than to have the king angry with him, just as one would not wish to have God angry—whose wrath, although it is tempered with great love for mankind, is yet heavy for mortals on earth. Thus, such fear did the man who was constrained by this experience suffer, and the royal cheerfulness ran ahead and uplifted him as he was falling, and sweetened him before he had even tasted of bitterness, unless he had surely brought upon himself something that could not be cured. Indeed, in such cases it would be a foolish man who would suppress the spirited faculty, and by giving place to the opposite, cause things to run headlong over a precipice and bring many down to ruin in the imitation. 28. I praise such a spirit, because even the corrective `law, which emperors would be praised for practicing with moderation, but which, if they were to abolish it, they would not be slow to subvert the order of the whole. And the one who is praised was of such character and presence of mind, whenever some spirited vicissitude occurred regarding the administration of affairs. For war produced in him a different affection of the spirit, which his deeds, described by the most serious authors in their chronicles, portray. 29. There is also a time for elegance. For no one is completely unrefined throughout their whole life, even if one were another Timon; and yet no friendship ever rejects urbanity, just as civil government does not. There was indeed a time when the emperor was honey-sweet to all whom he met. Thus, he showered down manna from heaven, because from his royal loftiness...
A a constant serenity of face offered a different kind of sweetness. Manna, however, is that which multiplied the delights of his conversation; he who hungered after beauty enjoyed it with manifold pleasure. And indeed, he was pleasant in a way other than by his mere appearance, as he bedewed the gentle mind; but he who was a participant in reason would penetrate into the deepest philosophy, drawing out the marrow of his wisdom, and nothing of those things which came from him fell to the ground in vain, but went, so to speak, into the very bone. For he seasoned all his speech with the salt customarily used, and by investigating deep things, just as the disciples of the apostles and the supreme Master who sent them explained them, and then in the common manner as well.
B 30. Therefore, since I am now leading the chorus of wondrous things in this triumph, in accordance with my ability, it was not that a discourse needed to be introduced in which the emperor suggested nothing new to his listeners, but rather things for the divine mind to contemplate. And so I, who abound neither in learning nor am skilled in speaking—nay, rather, I lack deep knowledge—would not for this reason hesitate to comply with the royal command, since I could turn no advantage to my own use. That is indeed greatly pleasing to the Attic men, whose characteristic it is always to be learning something new—that is, to men polished in the elegance of diction, who add new things to ancient matters and are thus always greedy for hearing. And here, indeed, we might say with the poet, C that God adorns the form of the king’s words with glory, joining this precious pearl to his diadem.
31. Thus in conversation, whatever is beautiful is sweet, but in a varied way. For the vehicle of his thought, the most magnificent condiment of royal speech, brought a different kind of sweetness to his listeners, to whom he began to distribute it into thought—than which there is nothing better—and into oral expression, which is an ornament to his thoughts. This, too, is recounted with praise concerning the emperor and has been committed to writing: that in storing up, in proposing, and in conceiving the thoughts of others, he was as quick as a flying arrow, or as lightning, or as a bird that cuts through the air in swift flight. D As for that which in dialogues is concise, and in argumentation is copious, Calliope the poetess works this, falling like snow, especially where the material of the speech demands vehemence or gravity. Then the comparison with snow is indeed fitting: for the speech is copious at such a time, sliding down like snow, not without a certain awe and trembling, and is brought to us from on high with splendor and majesty. Thus the eloquence of the emperor, supported by experience, offers itself to us as the best teacher, but it is greater than what can be committed to memory. For to recount it as it deserves—that would not be possible.
A It is, rather, a book of memory inscribed by God himself, with the fingers of the Spirit guiding it. Indeed, the busy diligence of history knows well, and even before history, nature knows, the human constitution—both that which is easier to grasp but from which what is learned is also easier to lose, like the function of a pipe, which is subject to an effortless flow and outflow; and that which is difficult for what is heard to take up residence in, but which is relentless against forgetfulness. There is also a similarity in this to the narrow neck in vessels, which have content that is hard to pass through because of the tightness of the opening. Such are certain natures. B Here, however, it ran into a soul that was very easily traversed by the kinds of useful learning that befit it, and it could run out again, as it were, in the same way as for those hastening to flee from a labyrinth. Sight, let us say, or the view of faces, or even other things, imposed themselves upon it, things of which it was necessary to store a memory within the soul. And these things would easily slip inside for the leaving of an impression; but the key of preservation, once applied by the memory, kept the seal unassailed until such time as it was appropriate to unfold the storehouse of the soul. Then it would open quite easily; and as the imagination stirred, the clear reading was renewed for the memory, the likely things were gathered together, the circumstances were structured, and the knowledge was refined—having been recognized once, and then remaining for a long time thus in the repository of memory. For it had been sealed in the soul’s treasuries more divinely; and most of it was preserved from childhood even to the fullness of age: that place, that man, that time, such a conversation, the qualities of actions, and such like, the sketching of which renewed the most ancient impression of what was known.
33. Furthermore, there was another kind of memory in him, one that, while seeming to escape the wonder of remembering regarding recent things, was not the least bit novel or strange according to its continuous sequence. C He was just as capable in speaking as he was, as it were, in haranguing the public, and also in writing, and this he did almost without taking a breath, with a style fashioned at length and with dense thoughts. When the noble offspring of the royal mind had reached maturity and it was time for it to come to the light, the wise emperor (for it is proper to know those who excel among others in talent and virtues in this way) wished to do so, and to reveal himself even to those who had not otherwise known his character. D Having thus set forth the general purpose of the discourse, he would proceed from the very beginning to the end, going through his arguments, running through all the most critical points (what if he failed to include a few words?), he himself would proceed to a different task, while the discourse that had been announced he would bring forth swaddled, as it were, like a volume, and having presented it to those present, he allowed them to examine it; and having been unrolled, it would begin to be perused through reading. And that which was spoken was in no way different. This must, as one might say, happen in the case of every discourse (yet it does not happen so in all cases); but what is good is rare and occurs only in the fewest. For the mind is the same in both—in the discourse spoken to the crowd in an easy flow, and in that which abandons itself to be locked away in books. For forgetfulness would not dare, even here, not to boast over the many.
A
34. Furthermore, whenever, by some chance, he took a brief respite from being occupied with public affairs, he would devote his time to the great orators of antiquity, and not merely to geographers, chroniclers, and those who concern themselves with tactics—to use the common term—nor did he omit those who subtly investigate nature or occupy themselves with syllogistic rules and thereby apply themselves to the study of truth and the conduct of affairs; but above all, he was diligent in investigating divine matters and God Himself. B
35. When he had the purpose in mind to subdue adversaries by his own hands and counsels, and to draw those estranged from God toward Him by the persuasive force of his words, baptism flourished greatly through him, and divine zeal kindled the holy fire; hence our saving Jordan abounded for those to be baptized, and little labor fell upon the teachers of the gentiles, the king himself taking the greater part of this burden upon himself, declaring with a truly royal spirit that it does not befit a king to rule over bodies while lacking dominion over souls. C You will very easily perceive that neither is there any utility in an unfruitful field nor in a human body lacking a fertile soul. Moreover, it is the mark of a good steward to make the desert land habitable, and of a wise master, such as the one of whom we speak, to introduce God as a perpetual inhabitant into places empty of good and honest things. It is certain that many were listeners to his word, and more were converted to him through written mandates and sent to foreign nations, whom they recalled from the depravity of their morals to virtue; others, after having exhausted their labors, died abroad, blessed in their journey, blessed in their end, because, having saved souls, they bade farewell to business and together with the king became partakers of the profit. But you may also see here the signs of his future lot, and how with the divine name the name of apostle wonderfully agrees, insofar as he was sent by God to teach better things, and he himself, with the grace of the Holy Spirit, sent forth the propagators of that same doctrine. But he also fulfilled the office of the apostolate otherwise—not by propagating dogmas through others, but by sending forth his own voice consigned to books, just as the apostolic rule made the illustrious Paul the orator of the Church. D
A A short time ago, a certain Eastern wolf, a piece of Assyrian evil, roared with Babylonian chatter against the divine fold, uttering a baleful sound. To speak without a metaphor, a certain foreigner—wise if judged by himself, but babbling about our affairs as if in a drunken stupor—barked like a dog at all that is most divine; or rather, he kicked back like a horse, foaming at the mouth against his own master, whom he did not even acknowledge. Having meditated upon vanities, he piled up insipid arguments, and while he seemed to be weaving nets, he confounded everything. As if by a bill of divorce, he sought to cast away the knowledge that binds man closely to God and to secretly introduce in its place a pestilential creed. With a strong hand and a commanding eloquence, the Emperor demonstrated what he could say against our holy religion, and in his insanity, he attempted to build his own edifice upon sand and to tear down ours—against which the gates of hell shall not prevail. But the King, arriving immediately (for he could not sleep through such things), understood the situation, and in order to curb the impudence of the barbarians, he joined the fray himself, a good and holy leader, with soldiers who were themselves sufficiently experienced in such battles. Happily, they cast their darts at the beast; among them was the Emperor, well-equipped with a quiver, possessing many winged arrows. While the beast was not wounded in the heart by others, he pierced the very center of its heart. God, the overseer of this hunt, rejoicing in it after the manner of the Psalmist, was glad. And even now, that remarkable weapon is held in honorable hands and is viewed by curious eyes, and he who cast it is called blessed. Behold the testimony which pertains to his entire philosophy.
B 37. No small part of this wisdom consists in the ecclesiastical struggles that have passed, in which the king’s victories with God, and the eradication of those tongues which insult God, are found—those who rejected the sacrifice offered for the salvation of the world by the great High Priest and Victim, assigning it to the Father alone, as if disturbed by a scruple that the offering might displease the heavenly Trinity. Hence, foolishly attributing it to the Father, they deprived the Son (so far as they were concerned) of being a participant in our universal salvation, and placed the Holy Spirit in a position of nothingness, as if He were nothing, though He also shares in this. There lies the royal work, the holy book which the Church preserves among her sacred treasures, proclaiming the royal wisdom and his solicitude for the churches of God.
C 38. That entire dogmatic word had not yet been uttered when the most envious evil demon, because the Church of God had been forged into unity, having cast away all discord and coalesced into spiritual concord, declared the Father to be greater than the Son according to the Gospel. From this, obstacles and insolent fictions arose from those who walked less religiously in the way of the Gospel. D
not so as not to have run to the very end of the right path, but rather to have been unable at times to be set upon the most straight way and, completely turning aside from the royal road, to have cast themselves into the precipice of destruction, choosing by that very act to fall. A For when some confounded the clarity of the natures in the God-man Savior, in such a way that, being ignorant, they erred; and others waged war against the pure union, introducing dualism—there, too, the wise Emperor revealed the path leading to God, opening the Scriptures and leading through them into the paradise of truth. As for those, however, who refused to obey the One calling to salvation, those sons of perdition perished, conquered by their own insolence and misbelief. But those who enjoyed the right sense of the royal teaching—as being inspired by God and apostolic—who had turned aside for a little while from the straight path which God Himself established for His own, as regards the name, yet again converted and prudently retracing their steps, these, entering into partnership with us, gained the truth. And behold, these things are written in the book of both kingdoms—in the book, I say, of God’s kingdom and of the visible kingdom; wherefore there is not much for us to report B here.
39. To conclude these words by summarizing them, I shall state that he was so learned in sacred dialectics that he kindled the fire with divine zeal, and held it as his desire to be consumed by that fire, if he might be able to restore unity among those whom divine dogmas had divided. For he had confidence in his training in logic, which was best exercised by the instructor himself, and which the teaching of others fostered for exercises of this kind. C No one among the right-minded, however, would wish to claim that the most wise Emperor was ignorant of such things, unless he were also ignorant of him as a most illustrious commander and an excellent governor and a skilled physician; no one, I say, would set down one who is in any way perfect as not finding a partner for his own way of acting, in order that he might thus carry out what is worthy of knowledge, and so perhaps enter the right path of the arts. Therefore, the Emperor, being persuaded that he was great in both the carrying out of affairs and in their conception—for it is not fitting to attribute the faculty of sensing what is good to other animals, while denying this privilege to those who possess reason—lest his faculty of reasoning secretly descend into irrationality and be condemned, gave his mind to that precept given to all: "Know thyself," just as a man strong of hand in a duel, so too, as a disciple of wisdom in argument. Whenever he invited the public to plead the cause of the rupture of ecclesiastical union, he did not commit an injury through pride of knowledge, as happens to many whom the spirit of boasting lifts above the earth, but rather, lifted from there as if by a divine flight on high, and philosophizing about himself and
measuring himself by the canons of rectitude, resolved to attend to himself alongside the other divine warriors, if ever the time for a struggle should arise calling forth one skilled in the battle for God. B 40. And so it is with these things. For since the heavenly Paul was not only renowned for his elevation on high, but even while walking the earth he humbled himself, stepping below while holding his head toward heaven in such proximity to the Most High, in the same way the emperor was lifted up by the loftiest of philosophical speculations, yet he also extended himself magnificently toward those things which concern the earth and humanity, wisdom providing him this benefit. For to penetrate the depths of nature, to investigate the origins of things, and to probe the mysteries of creation, neither the keenness of the Asclepiadae nor any other learned person possessed the ability to explain with such clarity.
41. C He was dreadfully shrewd, even when dealing with superficial things and those encountered at a glance, in discerning what lay in the depths and in verifying them with a most wise standard of nature. And it was not a matter of conjecture, but of being in the truth itself; his words did not miscarry, nor did he base his evaluation on some mere probable opinion (and such it was, when understood), but on the simple truth. And he who was judged by him was never another than he seemed; he scrutinized the hidden mind, more than the superficial, and likewise the habits of the rest. And anyone seeing him here would have said that he peered into the hearts of men, as if nature itself opened its inner secrets to him from within.
42. D He once knew my own teacher in rhetoric to be suffering from a latent disease while he was presiding over the sophists; and his gaze indicated that for the man life would not be long. And to others the sign was unforeseen; but he, rejoicing in a greater keenness of eye, having seen the windows as it were laid open—through which the soul knows how to depart—predicted the not-distant end of the man. And he departed, not forgetful of the warning. The treatments for diseases follow the same order. For he did not merely discover useful and effective remedies—that which they have attributed to the ancient Prometheus, as a proud title, and which are termed "royal" by the needy and those who supply the costs (for public officials provide the costs to the poor as a free gift)—but alongside these recent discoveries, he did not neglect the older ones. As for the sick, to whom the sacred person of the emperor could not go to investigate the nature of the disease and expel the ailment according to the rules of art, they took care that their illness be reported to the emperor, who, from what was reported, concerning the remedies
to discern the malicious nature of the infirmity, and by the contrariety of the disease to skillfully extract oneself, but here he served by his hearing, while his mind, judging the treatment, directed it. He A investigated by question, learned the patient’s condition, diagnosed it, gave orders, and followed up regarding the cure; and mostly, even in the presence of death itself—and it was appropriate to say this—he would restore the sufferer from the deadly disease, so that he would almost inquire where the burial was taking place.
43. And what makes it even more worthy of admiration is this: though the worst disease was wasting him, undermining the earthly foundation, and even though it was doing terrible things, dragging down his nature and harming the outer man, the emperor within remained preserved, and was sufficient, in the entirety of his other excellences. Seeing some among those who came for a royal audience wasting away with a similar affliction, he would most thoughtfully guide them with therapeutic methods. He would chide the man who, through his own negligence, fell into such a state, but he would also organize him toward health. If, then, he benefited so well, and survives, while the leader of that good himself has departed, another might wonder at it. For we should not be driven to such madness as to think such things. Someone acts heroically and strikes down many of the enemy, yet eventually falls himself. And for that reason, the title of "virtuous" has not fallen down together with the man. Someone has steered a ship for a long time, and having saved countless people, has then been plunged into the salt abyss and perished. Yet he has not lost the glory of a good navigator. Thus, Asclepius B himself, the liberator from so many diseases, so many times crowned in this kind of victory, is by no means unable to succumb to death. Yet, no one will justly take away the crowns of that man, but will inherit the title of victor for all time.
44. Thus, then, even the one we celebrate, during the time he himself was suffering, was able to help those who were enduring similar things; yet, being called by the Better One, he departed, C having reason to be glorified by his concern even for the smallest details, because of the angels of each of us who stand before God. For to whom the Divine condescends to deal even in trifles, it is pleased by them—to the extent of letting down the chain of Providence from the heights down to the moon. But as for us, it is not fitting to diminish the Divinity by splitting it into many parts and stripping it of its dignity. For God wants other things in this instance, and does not allow Himself to be worshiped by us in a paltry way, or to be wickedly diminished under the pretext of glorification. Does he not act with a tyrannical impiety against God, who admits that He D reigns from heaven, but by sophistical argument asserts that He does not concern Himself with our affairs, and alienates from God the man who was fashioned to rule over all things on earth? For in this way, with God having been stripped of His majesty, the governance of the universe, providence over all or the smallest matters, and care and solicitude about the world would be detracted, all of which, however, become God, as the only wise One, who not only did not refuse to descend even to us, but wondrously put on humanity, and, like us, lives in the flesh, and—
A neither does he hesitate in descending, working as the Father does. And looking not only at lowly things—those which are on the surface—but also entering into the innermost parts, he is, just as he is to the ensouled world when he penetrates hearts and reasonings, so too is he to the remainder, when he sends forth his providential words even to the very roots of the earth.
45. B Being a king divine, he offered this pattern, not only bestowing himself upon the select and those magnificent in their deeds and words, but also distributing his care to those who were sunk into the depths, not descending humbly, but condescending in a divine manner. And one could see him in a heavy crowd and a thronging assembly, not only thundering forth in common to them in words in which it was necessary for all to share equally, but also conversing with them man-by-man, that is, according to whatever each might put forward, or where an intelligent turn of fortune might challenge the emperor as a human being. This method of his was attempted—if one might say so—by our city, which was like a heavenly state, and by all its surrounding regions; by this, all the Roman army, and the whole of Christendom, and as much as was beside it, were restrained—the obedient and, if any remained disobedient, those who wished to have autonomy but yielded in another way, and those who were bridled in their jaw as with reins and muzzles by the imperial countermeasures, and those restrained from erratic rushing and held back, as it were, from their brashness.
46. C And so, the emperor’s solicitude was in all things, penetrating from the highest to the lowest and in the middle, and present everywhere like a soul poured out; esteeming nothing small, he considered all things divine, so that one who saw all these things would proclaim the emperor to be in need of nothing, sufficient unto himself; yet those who were ruled by him had need of that rule which expels illegitimacy and ferocity and introduces the probity of morals. It is permitted to choose the preeminent men, to select the average, and after these, the six hundred with whom he conversed regarding things pertaining to daily life, regarding science, regarding the art of living, and regarding the study of letters.
47. D Indeed, in this place I do not much like to adapt the example of one who is radiant and who casts his own brilliance upon all those being illuminated, but rather I compare him to a wise teacher, whose discipline is bestowed for the common good, of which all have need, and whose office it is to distribute the concern to each—especially, then, that which was added to say of God, that he is all things to all men, which the great Paul also copied from him in imitation, for he also manages the convenient and beneficial in common, according to the portions of life, and furthermore, according to the souls of each.
A 48. Let the writings speak of this imperial virtue individually. For we have no desire to prolong our discourse into the infinite, since it is neither appropriate to speak briefly where hearers are not fully attentive, nor is it easy, given the such great abundance of things worthy of memory. In these matters, he was a restorer of the ancient condition, a restorer of the disturbed kingdom, a restrainer of the luxury that alienates one from virtue, and frugal of time. For he who wished to subdue everything was hungering for divine temples, and whatever else was adjacent or otherwise related to them; but the Emperor, thwarting his hope, kept him from—as they say—gaping in vain, and he restored, he built, he raised up what had fallen, he healed what had suffered, doing all things as much as possible against the gaping mouth of time, which devours whatever should not be destroyed.
B 49. Earthquakes sometimes disturbed such things and had the power to overturn them, and the earth would yawn at the foundations; but the imperial hand raised up the sacred ruins. And if the evil did not plot against the foundations, but left them alone even while they were harmed, and the Emperor applied his hand to what was visible, here it seemed a small thing for the imperial magnificence to make up for the deficiency of the building, unless he also filled the interior with blessings by means of sacred offerings. At certain times, a fire was also kindled, whether by chance or otherwise by malevolent design, and it sought to bring about destruction, consuming the mass of the building and devouring many things inaccessible to the multitude. But even then, the Emperor’s care anticipated the concern of the canons, and the temple that had been consumed was rebuilt. And one could not find even one evil so fiercely contested to reach its zenith that it was not quickly effaced.
C 50. Nor were these good works circumscribed for us alone; but the majority of the eastern regions were allotted them, and the expanse of Europe, and the islands were renewed, and thus, prophetically, they were brought back to the divine beauty that had departed from the holy places as if from a new source. And here, the wealth that was exhausted, while it might seem to have aimed in part at beneficence by the manner in which it was distributed—yet if one were to count the multitude of monasteries and divine temples that were built, D who could find the vast sums of money lavished in place of mere bounty? Our previous emperors, indeed, by bringing one or two beauties to light, seem to have accomplished a great thing, and truly they did. But he who considered that it was better to preserve the existence of what already is, and to have cast out danger from those things that survive—and besides that, possessed the whole work, striving with every effort and care so that nothing of the sacred works should be lacking, but that what was once the Lord’s property should remain for them until the end, having that as an exhortation to the memory of those who stir up memory. The King, therefore, followed by inheriting this grace especially, as the occasion demanded, adhered to it. And to the first, who...
had already acquired the name of the memorial tablet, time had been fading the things pertaining to him; but the king, coming second in time, both inscribed him again into memory, and inscribed himself as well—for it is not right that the youthful should pass unnoticed, and be surpassed by the one who preceded, and that the second place of memory should be carried off, where the old would not have stood firm, had the youthful not been added.
51. B And since it was necessary that one who was steeped in good imitations and was advancing toward the eternal should also become a participant in the completeness to be found in such things, he did not consider such an addition to his actions to be sufficient; rather, he completed a divine work—and that, not for the sake of vain display and arrogant pride, which one who thinks with ferocity might admire; and, studious of pleasing a man who was excessively given to a solitary life (for he delighted in such men, more than any other), he constructed a monastery, whose retreat in the desert was a solitary cell, while the beauty of his speech adorned it as a brilliant eulogy. The rule of governance in it might most fittingly be called worthy of angels. It is now filled with men marked by the best character, living almost without bodies, who are both said and believed to have the angel of light near them, and they themselves know it, and his word is frequently spread abroad, that he desired with great vehemence that these holy men of his should surpass all who lived in a similar manner. C And his desire had its effect. For he himself proved inferior to none of those who preceded him, as many as were resplendent in such goods, and who were men of desire according to him—I would say even according to God—who were bound to surpass all others. Therefore, they gave themselves to such great good, so far as their energy allowed them not to fail, and they strove to win in the stadium of virtue, as though becoming incomparable athletes. And there is no place for wavering, as, with God supplying the aid, they will not fall away from their good resolve.
52. Listen, I pray, to this: *Taste and see*, when the divine sweetness is offered to those who wish to partake of it. As soon as one who craves divine things has heard, D he at once eats and drinks the mixed wine, as the Solomonic wisdom knows how to prepare a feast; and, having consumed what was set before him, he is incited to greater desire, and cannot be sated by divine delights. Such, indeed, was he, truly blessed, and the beloved guest of the great Inviter. He tasted that it is beautiful to labor in such a way; and the manly condition of his soul did not extinguish the lamp, by whose light anyone proceeds along the straight path of such a life; but he kindled it further, fanning it with the divine Spirit and longing with his soul toward God, whence, being advanced, he practiced and studied other similar works. And he chose the places in a fitting manner, by judgment, and...
material affairs were fashioned by him with the skill of three arts, and he held first place in value, both making constructions and providing aid. He decided that tabernacles should be established for the Nazirites, for it is near to God to converse with Him, both on account of the divine equipment and because God desires to dwell and walk among those who purify themselves in divine equipment; but these [other buildings] he provided as a hostel for visitors, and for those laboring under wounds or other diseases. He indeed was so fervid with divine desire, having a burning heart within him, to see if by any chance he might behold what was desired. But when death hastened and he departed, bringing to God his longing and love of virtue as a work already perfect, he left to his son, the king, the task of bringing to a good end what were left behind, making himself the beginning of the good, and by providing a reason for emulation, made it complete in every number. B
53. It was part of this same restoration that some cities and fortresses were renovated from ancient destruction, while others were built—and to speak more aptly, newly created. Of Tiberius, it is testified to his good providence that he restored many cities that had been subverted by his acts of liberality. But he [the Emperor] accomplished this to such an extent that it is not easy for us to state it at present, unless we define a specific time by naming the places; yet the number that he established anew in opportune places is of a different scale, nor can it be compared as inferior to the rest. For they were not constructed just up to a hundred, or even twice that number, but above these; and by fortifying them, he repelled any enemy intending excursions, establishing continuous breastworks along the roads against the enemy, preventing them from proceeding, and striking fear of death into those forcibly holding the way through those things that stood behind, thus forcing them to remain at home and either to diminish their ferocity or to be broken by raging against one another. C
54. It is no less wonderful that in most of such works he himself acted as architect and discerned what would stand more securely, while he ministered much with his own hands to provide for the builders, and to carry as much as was useful. Yesterday his royal hands were weary, and tomorrow they will be weary again, either with an instrument laden with much iron, and which, apart from its nature for cutting, no one else would carry—a burden representing the ruin of a hostile crowd—or with an iron club bringing on rapid brazen sleep for those struck, or with a heavy spear, which the poetic magniloquence portrayed as the mast of a twenty-oared ship. This the royal hand sustained and carried. These were the works of the king yesterday and tomorrow; meanwhile, however, in his hands were many stones, such as a man can carry—stones of stumbling for the enemies of God; it would be best if labor ceased thus far. But he provided for more; these things were for the daytime, but the night was for matters of war. And the emperor gave to his labors and to his rest a time opportune for such fervor of a burning soul. D
remaining awake, not even bending his knee, and thus raising himself as a pillar of endurance; he who had easily practiced this throughout his life, exercising himself to be in every way enduring. A
55. For to speak generally, since patience is divided into many parts: one part being concerned with the body, which we are accustomed to call endurance of labor; another with the restraint of desires, which is temperance; and another with the tempering of every painful thing, which is the victory of wisdom, patience, and furthermore of gentleness—there is no part of patience in which the king did not have supreme glory, being master of himself even in this, because it was wrong for so great a prince to be equal to his inferiors. Therefore, he persisted in enduring all labors, bearing the cold as if he found the desire for a rightly composed breeze in the heat of a burning midday, and again, when exposed to the summer heats, bearing them patiently as if he were being B cooled by life-giving breezes. He endured thirst as the "Dipsi" mentioned in history could not, and as for hunger, he said it was not absurdly considered useful for an idle man, but inappropriate for a hardworking man, whom they know to nourish through diligent works, which renew the struggle of the soul.
56. He also restrained the needs of the belly, just as a statue, desiring for itself only as much as is enough for filling. For neither would the one cram in an excessive load, nor did he himself attempt to force feed his stomach with food and liquid beyond what is right, as those do whose God is their belly. Behold, the cause is the same for both. For that which is full does not admit what is yet being poured in, nor does that which is closed at the mouth allow further things to penetrate within. C
57. Thus he subdued desire, that most terrible flatterer, by granting it pardon. By acting as a king obedient to law, he expelled the tyrant. A bedding for him upon the roughness of the earth, not spread out from mid-tapestries—he had esteemed it so dear that it was an opportune thing for him in its time, because he could already pay the debt to his nature and his constitution. A treacherous sleep once surrounded the Homeric Zeus against his will, and the discourse is conjectured to demonstrate the violence of sleep, not only in those who live otherwise, but also in those who rule broadly. But sleep, even when called, did not obey him; for the care of useful things was superior. And having been poured out, it quickly leaped away, measuring itself as the king ordered, and giving way to the coming times of his works, and somehow fearing to be present D to one who always lives with fear—fearing, as it were, that the idle state of the senses might bring about a kind of death for one worthy of immortality, and that the architect of worldly order might put an obstacle to his fervent works.
A 58. Water was his favorite drink, [chosen] because he feared that living in luxury might lead to some crafty pursuit of temperant pleasure, with which a sweet reed might mix a certain composition; the juice [also] has an astringent quality, and sometimes the barley drink is faintly sharp. And if he had need of wine, he took it sour; and it was mixed with vinegar, and was thus unpalatable to most people. This was a mark of the royal chalice, not so much because the king took pleasure in the drink (for that which is unpleasant to the palate is not sweet), but, I believe, because he was moderating an excessive appetite. And I know of men who, for the sake of strict discipline, pour such a mixture for themselves, so that they might also overcome the inner enemy.
B 59. As for his upright posture, which was indeed a habit, just as a column—having been made steady and raising itself up—retains its straightness, and thus [he maintained] an honorable bearing, in so far as he sustained our affairs on high, he would then bend his knees to God for the sake of prayer; and in this way, by supplicantly bending his knees in prayer, he was worthily dedicated, rivaling the great righteous man of old, whose knee-callouses testified that he bent his knees frequently. And thus did he conduct his stature in [all his] noble achievements. For it was not fitting that he who bowed before God should not rise up against his enemies, nor that he who humbled himself from such a great height should not be exalted by God, and [thereby] receive the heavenly exaltation of glory as a reward for the virtue with which he cast himself down to the earth.
C 60. What followed, his manner of walking, was also itself a form of endurance. For he did not rest his fleshy feet in luxury, nor did he trust his speed to the lightness of a horse jumping [about]. But when there was need for those who were expert at running on foot, he would pass them by, not disdaining the infantry in the manner of the ancient, high-minded Persians, who saw fit to legislate that—except for walking about the house—the rest of one’s travel should be done on horseback; but rather, he approved of riding only for necessity and at times of triumph, using his own feet for the rest for the sake of fortitude.
D 61. Thus, the things which grieved most men and made them bitter in the contest, he would temper with the sweetnesses of virtue, through which he also secured [the ability to forgive] injuries, being sluggish by right reason to take revenge, and granting time to those who had turned themselves toward baseness to repent, setting before himself here the Savior Christ as an archetype of imitation, who is over all and provides for all things; he imitated His spontaneous action and His self-service in works, especially in the greatest ones. For he did not wish for the good to be accomplished by the hands of others, while he himself be credited with the noble deeds, nor to lend his ears to royal duties while casting his eyes elsewhere and throwing the work in front of him to the hands [of others].
62. Indeed, he would also expose himself to dangers where the army could not otherwise be saved; and, yielding himself even unto death, he managed [to ensure] the salvation of the rest. Hence he also held in high esteem, above all things, the wounds of the body
A rather than the splendors of the diadem, and he bore these as seals, engravement of his manliness. Now, one might well consider him a king, but this was a matter of succession, which God had paradoxically ordained for him, judging him worthy to be king—he who amongst great and handsome brothers was at that time small, though most handsome, and in the future, the greatest. But you would not find a leader anywhere, even if you searched, like that king. For every king (and we do not say this undeservedly) is a leader of leaders. To behold him as an excellent horseman, a foot-soldier, a duelist breathing fury, a champion in the front line, a most formidable besieger, one skilled in setting ambushes, and one most fervent in taking part in all other feats of war—these things are no longer woven into the chain of succession, even if they had been drawn down to him from his ancestors; rather, they arise frequently from training, from permanent habit, and from the composition of his limbs, which nature elaborated under God as the architect.
63. Now, he did not judge it necessary to be present in person at those battles which were too far beyond the borders, B since from the beginning and from the time when things were turbulent and esteemed ambiguous, there was a necessity for the king to be in the center, and to warm and quicken the surrounding parts by the word of his heart. Nor, if he did judge it fitting (and he judged with the fervor of his soul in all things), did he remain inexorable towards the lot of the senate or the rest. Assuredly, going forth from the queen of cities, he would divide his military force against the enemy, in some places splitting them, and in others moving through the middle, and he would send out the military from nearby and accomplish things, such as God granted him, who was working with him, favorable to his affairs. And if nothing new and great occurred, it was not for the royal envoys to return from there without having settled everything in the best way. For along with them, the emperor sent forth his plans, through which he achieved victories as if he were present himself. For there was no plan that did not succeed. If indeed, by the fault of the army, a battle went badly, or if the allies were not paid their wages as the commanders attempted, and the outcome of the battle was not cast for the best, the blame for this lay elsewhere, but the hand of the king was free from it.
64. And so, in this way, the extraordinary military campaign was managed. It would not be easy for anyone to enumerate many such things. For he himself undertook the greater part C of such works, not entrusting such brilliant and dangerous tasks to others. The Cilicians know these things, and the Armenian tribes, and the Assyrian race, and all that is illuminated by the first rays of the sun. But the Scythian ferocity was tamed not only by the father abundant in virtues, but by our own no less. He ran beyond the Ister in such a way that, as one who with impunity hunts wild beasts, he catches some and strikes others with extreme fear; and this not once. For that [feat] belonged to Alexander, who, having hardly prevailed in such an crossing, immediately fled without looking back; for you could not name a fortified place D that, pressing strongly with his men, the brilliant virtue of Alexander did not storm, who in such...
A a region refuted the miracles of Hercules. For he could not take Avernus (this is a crag stemming the river Indus, where it flows along its roots), although he labored three times, and as many times, they say, he was driven back; but Alexander, approaching once, took it by force.
65. And so, when our emperor has expended much labor in besieging many cities, such is the lot of war. Historians tell us that, as soon as he saw them, he destroyed those that should not stand, but allowed those to remain that were to be added to our own. To detail the number of these, as the annalists reviewing them one by one do, is the task of an entire volume. Two days once saw five cities reduced to servitude by the great Alexander; but of these, those who record such events do not precisely describe how he dealt with three of them. The other two wept for their citizens slaughtered to the last man. I do not know where I should begin the narration of these evils, nor do I know what great disaster deprived such men of their kingdom. Yet therein appeared trophies no whit smaller, and what was captured was spared and reserved for a better fate; and just as the discourse previously B weighed this with right judgment, the divine talent was increased. For how would they not henceforth cast away their lives for the Roman land—men who had met with death, but who had recovered their souls from the emperor, and were provided abundantly with all that suffices for life? To whom it was otherwise sufficient, for the provocation of battle, that the martial gift was not only the king's voice exhorting them to Enyalius, but also [the fact] that he himself ran ahead of others into the work, and snatched the crown first.
66. For in truth, C the rhetoric of Tyrtaeus’s verses, or the adaptation of Timotheus to melody, serves to enflame one for battle—the one being sung to incite one to war, so as to be able skillfully to provoke [men] to death; and Timotheus once singing to the great Alexander to stir his martial fury, and to persuade him to run to arms, as if war were present; and to be eager for the work, having the flash of lightning, and to become fire for the deed, consuming the material. These things are among those known to I know not whom. For indeed it is manifest to all D who have known the emperor that he excels in fortitude (for as many as were upon the earth—and indeed he knew the whole of the inhabited part of it—knew the one, and knew the other), the king is celebrated and brave everywhere on earth, and was encountered everywhere in the inhabited world. Who would momentarily turn his eyes away from these glorious deeds? All books are full of them; but who would ask or request books to be written now?
67. We must remember that great war, in which he alone surpassed all, as if reigning over them,
A acting in this way, saving himself from such a great, warlike storm, and gathering the rest into his own bosom as into a harbor of salvation. It was a happy coincidence that he who shone with the apostolic sermons of the Savior Christ might be likened to Hermes, not because of some very great similarity of image, but because no one among the Greeks was more zealous in honoring the apostle. But the barbarian race then surpassed Greek wisdom and fashioned for itself a more divine conception, and raised up the emperor to the place of an angel, and furthermore [invested him] with another, better nature, as if it had been incongruous to compare things that appeared monstrous [to the senses] with human works.
68. Nor is there time for us to dwell here any longer, but it is enough at least to have stirred up for the hearers the memory, which is not otherwise sleeping. For no one is so drowsy that he does not resist sleep in such matters. But at the time he was flourishing in age and strength, and his works were indeed the most great, [arising] from a body that was robust and well-obedient to its elemental temperament. But those [events] from just lately, by which the ancient city of Claudius appeared more beautiful—this is another wonder—that the works of the general were not [those of one] prospering and firmly established, but of one to whom it was rightfully granted to care for and look after himself, and to recall what health had been lost, when there was a struggle between nature and zeal: the former saying that he ought to spare himself, the latter that he ought B to die for the common good. And this last thing demanded too much, and the zeal prevailed against nature. The bed in which his infirmity was being treated was exposed to be seen by those looking on; but the horse bore the emperor, not fit for exercises—which alone was needed for a man so exhausted—but neighing for battle and inciting his rider to the contest, and again the general, the emperor, ran before the rest, breathing bravery as if he were proceeding not from sickness, but from long rest; and learning with few hands to prepare an attack against those with ten thousand hands, he proceeded all the more into fervor, [with his] confidence projected towards God; to which was joined the impetuosity that supported the burden [laid] upon us. And so, at the first assault, that which had occurred was perfected—a thing which no one among the brave in the front of battle would have even brought to mind—the fall of those who had dared to face the battle, the flight of those who had taken more thought for their lives, gathering into many thousands, [though they were] mutilated by the greater part of the army.
69. When we consider these things in our minds, and that we are bound in this sequence of events, C we cannot do otherwise than mourn for a long time; and while standing around the tomb, which includes the best of men, we are drawn to lamentations that will bring consolation to others. And we say, "To where, O common good of ours, have you departed? To where have you been circumscribed to our perception, you who filled all things with wonder, in which you acted manfully and gloriously, and [would have continued] to abound thereafter?" Until God, assenting to these words, shall grant that our excellent lion-born king may be strengthened in his claws, so that he may be able to subdue the beasts that rage against us. For thus far such things were governed by the royal roar and by the excellent and firm hope of the future. D
A And surely she who is your partner in both life and reign, and a participant in the highest wisdom, and—to sum it all up—in every way most suited to be the consort of so great a king, is also present with the young emperor, and knows all things by which the world is governed, enjoying as she does your instruction and example; observing your lessons in her deeds, she could not fail to direct the common good in every respect. But we indeed desired a royal mind and the blessings that flow from it; yet we also desired a warrior like you, such strong hands, a martial countenance against the enemy, a manly charge, and the shedding of blood, the course of which is opened by steel directed by royal hands.
A οα'. Behold, O greatest king, [my] sun. And now your moon sheds light upon those on earth—black, indeed, with the mournful gloom that has appeared, yet flashing with beautiful and light-bearing rays, emitting royal and divine charms. And may it continue to shine, not like stars that set late, but rather into an inner sanctuary, if it is permitted to pray for such things. May God grant that this sun also should advance for as long a time as possible, and that the good [he brings] may thus be multiplied for us, and that we may pass our days under both lights, which knows no succession other than that which is rightly composed by nature.
B οβ'. O tomb, that has hidden away the blossom of nature! O you that have constricted such breadth of prudence, that have enclosed the ever-mobile one! It was not fitting that such a rest from long labors should be brought to an end for the king. It was necessary that, having ceased his long toils, he should have remained in tranquility, wiped away his sweat, and finished a life more sweet, and then, wise and free from all sickness, should have tasted a changed lot of leisure. But he who yesterday was, as it were, struggling in the wars, and had relaxed only as much as he deserved to be crowned, he left behind the armies and powers upon the earth, but has attained to those on high.
C ογ'. O most powerful king, O most beautiful to behold, most excellent in action, and most pleasant to speak of: why have you hidden yourself, and why have you hidden away such good things? Revered is the tomb that contains such a man within it, to whom not even the whole world is a worthy equivalent. Bitter is this tomb, for taking away such sweetness from all. Now someone seeing it will run as if to a hive, intending to harvest the honey within; but he will go away having drawn out gall, pierced by the sting of bitterness and affliction; and he will eat tears. And he will mix his drink with these same tears, and not in measure. O holy stone of this tomb, you that hide within yourself the precious stone that brings fear to all!
D οδ'. For verily it was possible to see that, when running against the enemies, he at once struck them with fear and caused them to turn to flight—always moving toward those who were in the front. But if any did fall, that was the work of a royal hand, oak-cutting, like a forest before axes, the dense ranks of men of the barbarian army, who, though gaining a little breath anew, and having [their] plans and wounds altered—of which they carry deep scars into the depth—nevertheless do not at all rejoice to the end. It takes away...
from them the elations of their exultation, a great disturbance arising from the marvelous event, and likewise the departure of the archetype, A in whose likeness they themselves wished the ethnarchs who are among them to be depicted. It pleased [them] to employ individual judgments. And this judgment was excellent: that if such a leader had been set over them, they would not have suffered such terrible things; but they would have been victorious in every battle, and would have been inscribed as unconquered. They perceived, indeed, that the emperor did not spare his hands, nor did he govern the commonwealth having fallen into sloth; but that he mostly exposed himself to dangers, showing the strength of his hands and excelling as an ally to victories. Indeed, he often wished the mouth of war to gape for death even upon himself; and in this too, experience taught that the fortune of war always chooses and carries off the best of men. Therefore, dangers in rivers, dangers in invasions, dangers in ambushes, more in pitched battle, B not a few in sieges—to speak in one word, ten thousand dangers, of which the end is the same: death.
75. Since it was not right that [he], being of such a nature, should vanish being stained with blood, shedding much of another’s gore, lest any of the barbarians should mock these deeds as having been done newly, he falls according to nature, giving no one at all among them [grounds] to glory over him in perpetual triumph, and he sleeps a sleep which is long, indeed, yet from which one is awakened; [his] life having recently passed [is] illustrious, still more illustrious in its consummation, because he placed his life in a kingdom, of which it would have been a dire, not a small, exit.
76. But who would not here judge with wonder, that even while he was already measuring his life for a nature addicted to death, although it was not right for such a man to be bound by law, and while suffering division on account of the supernal calling, since the body is to be rendered C to the earth according to its nature, but the soul must ascend to the Most High, he feared lest he should not depart from life nobly, and lest at the end he should admit something vile and unequal to his past [deeds] in himself? An immense struggle, therefore, was brought forward, but nothing else among all things urged [him] to greater labor. Therefore, he struck down youthful beasts, designating that glory of Hercules by a charming name as a struggle, as in an exercise. But as his foot-vigor diminished, he performed these [tasks] again at frequent intervals. And while the illness urged [him] to stand tranquil, his hand did not abstain from noble deeds; and somehow shame encompassed him, lest he be seen as slothful in action, as often as he had need of an external stimulus.
77. And thus, what is desirable for all those D to whom it belongs to stand according to the rules of prudence towards [the] morning, sufficed even to the end, until [he] departed to the longed-for God, being master of himself unto the purely perfect; preparing embassies; sending where it was necessary; treating with legates from every quarter; speaking gravely in councils—which one might call [things said] from the royal bed, wishing to signify [it] more opportunely by proverbs than [as] things said from a throne; recalling to memory and unfolding
A strenuous actions—those which his royal mind had proposed, and indeed the ancient ones to which, as by way of example, he compared his own; discerning skillfully the principles by which cities are rightly governed; teaching as an apostolic man, should some doctrine perchance need to be examined; in divine judgments proceeding after the manner of David; immersing himself in divine sciences with subtle reasoning and zeal, and needing little the assistance of the body; managing wisely the things pertaining to himself; magnanimously ordering those things which follow after him; leading to an end those things which, having not finished, he had nonetheless brought to fulfillment in a kindly manner; advancing [others] to honors both publicly and individually; showering riches upon those who were in need as a thirsty land; setting golden seals upon suppliant letters, signing and confirming them, some anew, others for a greater assurance, among which was the concern and providence for the churches, which until recently the summit of the churches resounded with the sound of trumpets. To say everything: establishing solid foundations for the king, his son, who would succeed to the universal edifice, who as soon as he was wrapped in swaddling clothes, was at the same time encircled with a diadem and adorned from infancy with a royal crown, so that, being king throughout, he might bear in all his ages that beneficence suitable for kings, and might increase what is God-inspired, and might perfect the great king and child into a man of the greatest sort, most kingly—which also shines forth as a good message and token for us, from which there is no reason we should be unloosed or fall into the conjecture of unlucky things.
C 78. But this warmth in my discourse has led me somewhat beyond the subject before me. However, since he found for himself all things better, and was able to say even he himself that which is now finished, which is according to the goal and to the vital state, he casts aside that which is living, and becomes a participant in that which is not vital. And gold, imitating the sun, and the pearl, mimicking light, and fire-colored gems, and all those that surpass the beauty of all flowers, are reckoned as nothing. But the night-garment is chosen, which announces the coming day, of which if the dawn shall precede it, it will be in harmony with it, but of the night there shall be no succession. And giving himself to such a sign, he indeed rejects the exalted and delicate, luxurious bed, and wishing to be spread upon mats, he obtains what he desired. That final couch is prepared for himself by him who has often endured similar things; by which he exercised himself on our behalf, and descending into this depression in humility, he has been exalted to a summit which it is not lawful for the human race to surpass. And having philosophized, as a soul pure and godlike, leaving the body and knowing of its dissolution, and having spoken quietly, and having heard from those standing by as much as was necessary, he was loosed from the bond—or rather, truly, he has departed, having taken his leave, which is truly most blessed, and indeed most desirable to us all who are men. For to lie while breathing, and held in silence, and not even knowing how to think, this would truly be called dying; but to depart while speaking of those things which one might remember for good, and while thinking soundly,
and this should be called a departure, and a blessed one at that. And if it were death, it would be one that gained nothing from the intellectual realm, nor pilfered anything from the time of life, nor enclosed the mind in inactivity, nor laid snares for the reasoning faculty which guards the dominion, but rather one that, having departed, attacked the body A in its solitude and acted against it.
79. Thus, then, the king, having left a blessing from God to his queen-consort, and to the king his son, and to all others who surrounded the sacred tabernacle, was joined to the celestial hosts, and stood near the King of kings, God, toward whose service he always directed the kingdom. As for the city, you would not have called it a dwelling place of men possessed of speech; rather, they desired no longer to exist. For with the foundation torn away, they too lay prostrate; and having lost the light of life, they revealed the inner darkness outwardly, obscuring themselves, and pouring forth a rain—the most copious tears—befitting such a cloud. They gave themselves up entirely to oblivion, no longer seeing that place of the foundation which had recently been present: our kings, the most divine summit, who cause the house of dominion to rise for us. May the great Builder, God, keep them as they proceed firmly, He who not only builds cities—which, unless He Himself guards, in vain does the guard keep watch—but who also shapes the clay into solid work, and builds houses thus, both others among men, and especially the greatest ones, which have been built up for the shielding of every evil that can exist in the world (I mean the kings, in whom the summit consists), who are our kings, whose good deeds have already enriched us from the very beginning of the imperial course. May they indeed take from thence the starting point of every matter, but may they also take care for the further increase of the likeness to God through the talent of beneficence; which, as to good stewards, that [Divine] grace has proposed to them, wishing the good to be diffused more widely according to divine imitation, and for the benefits received and bestowed to be more numerous.
80. I have prolonged the discourse, O blessed king, as far as time allowed. For to say "as far as my capacity allowed" would not be proven true, since I have been B generous both with time and with the propriety of the discourse. Distant, therefore, be resentment.
OF THE SAME: EPISTOLARY LETTER TO THE THESSALONICANS
4. If I had been the first to send this edifying letter to you, O brothers, perhaps someone might have accused me of novelty. But since I am not the first to proceed along this path, but follow an ancient tradition...
A and am led by the zeal of those who have gone before me to do the like, I am confident that I shall find pardon for this imitation; and this is all the more so because other epistolary writings have been discovered to be fashioned in the same manner, both in form and in subject matter. For humans are beings that speak, and for this reason they are fond of words and mutually affectionate; when they reside together, they converse about things dear to them; but when they are separated by distance, their conversation is transmitted through messengers—sometimes those who are living and speak clearly, and sometimes those who are dead, but are yet apt for discourse through technical signs traced in black ink. And so, teaching you in this manner according to the law, as a divine father would his spiritual children from this distance—which God himself has ordained for us as sinners—first of all, I myself offer prayers, and I call upon you to do the same, that I may not speak in vain, but that, just as when I was present, so too even in my absence I may find a place for welcome hearing among you. B Furthermore, the things I speak are not at variance with those which I have already left for you to store up in your hearts, but are entirely consistent with and dwell upon the same themes. And this, in the manner of David, is for me a meditation on the justifications of the Lord—or, to express it the same way, on doctrines that are pleasing to God. For one could not reasonably be censured for pondering in one’s mind and expressing with one’s lips the justifications of the Lord, which in every way justify both the teacher and the one being taught: the former, as one who speaks the things of God; the latter, as one who is not disobedient. And thus I now speak to you, not immediately face to face as before, when I would teach and you would receive my words with your ears, and if ever something were less than clear, you could immediately ask me and seek and receive the solution from me—which was the law of our conversation that we had established for ourselves at that time—but I am constrained by necessity to send this teaching to you. And this necessity is twofold, concerning both you and me, so that we may equally become participants in salvation: I, by teaching what is good; you, by comporting yourselves according to it, through which virtue you achieved for yourselves a distinguished glory in years past. What then are my precepts, which are not different from the former ones? They are the entire subject of this epistle, in which justice itself also dwells; of which I pray that it not be held back by an ineffective torpor, but that, as the Scripture says, having rested a little, it may now be awakened and brought to you, the watchful.
C 2. Come then, O love most dear to God, O constitution of the whole world, O cause of all the good things that happen to men, O ornament of our nature, O mother of peace and of divine-pleasing ease and quiet, O good that is easily acquired without great toil by those who are studious of virtue and lovers of God, through whom laws have been established, and cities founded, and covenants entered into, and—to speak in one word—through whom the whole of life is ordered. O sweetest love, without whom a man is reduced to the likeness of a beast; without whom a teacher renders himself worthy of hatred; be present with me now as the spiritual seasoning of this feast, which I send forth to my dear guests. If, however, the remainder
of the train of virtues follows you, just as a mistress is followed by her dear A handmaidens, let these too stand by the feast and perform what is fitting, so that this spiritual food may prove a true good to us, altogether more excellent than that of the miller Eunostus, whom ancient legend held in high honor.
3. Attend then, O brothers, to what is to be said. And since this rational table and food are prepared for you by the hands of most beloved charity, as if by prudent cooks, sit down at it for the sake of God, to whom she minister, and partake of the feasts, so that you may become partakers of a sincere and genuine charity; but do not, because a libation of wisdom is not set before you, B be disgusted or mock. For even if a teacher is unwise and not at all sweet, yet love, by which even unlearned teachers are approached by those who desire to learn, will sweeten this cup, and by offering the wine of cheerfulness, it will abundantly provide what is sufficient to draw upon wisdom, to such an extent that what the world vomits out will utterly lack force and be disregarded, while moderation and temperance will lift the soul to an angelic life.
4. Charity, O brothers (for I do not want to ever part from it, but rather, though I may be troublesome, I will always summon it), if it dwells in you abundantly, requires above all things that he who truly wishes to be a man should be so before God and those who stand by Him, and then before the king. For whether bishops also ought to be loved by the presbyters, and by the C Christian deacons and by the whole clergy and people, you know, having learned this from the sacred pulpit in this church. And thus, consequently, charity toward all is also owed to one's neighbors.
5. Since these things are indeed so (and they are, in no other way, however much adversaries may babble and turn to contrary positions), you yourselves will easily understand by meditating and carefully observing all these things, that the most certain hope of salvation arises from them. But if by chance you have failed in one commandment of charity, do not at once cast away that hope, but strive to strengthen it again through repentance. Yet such repentance does not consist simply in feeling sorrow of soul, D but in making up for the defect of charity, and perfecting what is lacking to you in it, so that you do not love those whom you ought to love in any other way than as God has commanded, in all your soul and from all your soul, in all your heart and from all your heart, and in all your thought and from all your thought. Thus, of course, we are commanded to love.
6. By soul, I mean that which is the all in us, which is not born of the earth, and therefore does not return to the earth, but which arose from the inbreathing of God, to whom it returns if it has acted rightly; the soul, I say, which, although it does not altogether approach the nature of God, yet, if we are willing, we are deified by the divine likeness and all become sons of the Highest; and even if
A we die, we do not die as such, in that we have been adopted by Him into sonship. Not, indeed, as sons of men, nor, to speak absolutely, as men—manifestly of unjust mammon, or of base desires, or of wrath, or of blood, or of any such evil. By "heart," however, I mean that upon which calculations—according to the Gospel—arise, which indeed are sometimes diverse and not even compatible; and "mind" is that by which, if one is wise with God, he gathers up good things and brings his words to a conclusion according to the divine principles from above. But if one has sinned, he plays the sophist with himself and his hearers, and thus he is accounted not a disciple of self-wisdom, but a servant of the sophists of iniquity, and B keeps it; but where there is sin, he instructs himself and his hearers, and is reputed not a disciple of his own wisdom, but a servant of the master of perversity.
7. Now, here too, it seems to me not inappropriately that the phrase "in all" and "with all" do not converge into the same meaning, nor are they entirely and completely interchangeable; but rather that there appears a certain difference within them, yet one not clashing with orthodoxy, as happens in differing speech leading to one good. It is similar to those who, journeying by a straight path that is divided in two, nevertheless accurately arrive together at one good goal.
8. And it pleases me to indicate that "in all" C signifies the recondite character of love, that which is alone within the soul, which still escapes the many, which has not yet appeared, which dwells in the soul, hidden within as in some inner chamber, and has not yet appeared in action. Here I am led to further consider that, in these three good things—in the soul, in the heart, and in the mind—all the good within us is perfectly outlined, which also the great David remembers when he wishes all that is within him to be moved to bless the holy name of God. For by these "inward" things—these three, by which love is interwoven—if one is well disposed in his reasoning, he blesses the Lord of love, chanting a hymn in spirit, composed according to the harmony of the tripartite soul in love. And such is to love, as has been said, "in all soul, and heart, and mind."
9. But D "with all" seems to change the meaning along with the variation of the phrase. For this phrase appears to signify love that is forward-looking and thus external, erupting from within and according to the soul, just as from a good fountain a certain useful stream [flows] outward, both revealed and appearing from that which, so to speak, is in potentiality towards activity. For instance, he who calculates in his soul, and considers, and thus reasons rightly concerning a good friend, and devises, and makes himself ready for things that are for the pleasure of that person, and inwardly constructs good things that will be advantageous to the beloved—in his soul and in his heart and in his mind he loves him, bearing him within, but not shining forth the friendly affection openly, nor flashing it outward into evidence. But he who, when the occasion has fallen and requires a demonstration of love, provides the things necessary for the friend, acting either by speaking, or by doing some other thing through which he celebrates, in a ceremonial manner and
A showcases what sort of person he is in his intentions; by this he reinforces his god-given inspirations upon those who have renounced their opposition to perfect love; such a person loves with all his soul, and with all his heart, and with all his mind, bringing out, that is, what was previously stored away in his soul, and advancing and revealing it clearly—so that, on the one hand, his interior and inner love may correspond to a spark smoldering somewhere within, or even to a flame stifled by some sigh; while, on the other hand, the active expression of that same love may be likened to a flame that has leaned outward from within, and is leaping up and shining most brilliantly.
10. Since, therefore, love and charity have been thus regulated—charity which has been sown from above by God himself, like a husbandman, long ago in the world, so that it might produce abundant fruits fitting for divine storehouses—you also ought to abound in good fruits and exhibit a perfect harvest, not casting away even a whit of the grain to be food for the birds that devour it—that is, the demons who fly around the divine fields, contaminating them as much as they can, and bestowing every effort to root up this best and most fertile plant of charity, and with every exertion to overturn it utterly, planting in its place their own hatred most firmly; B and where they do not succeed in accomplishing this according to their desire, they at least endeavor to mutilate it and ensure it is not whole and perfect. And so, the truly wicked demon once rebelled against the charity that is felt toward God, and that rebellion produced heresy-leaders and their followers, to whom, indeed, as those devoted to destruction, God denies His own aid, so that virtue may not be compelled, so that the beautiful may not remain without a reward, and so that in this way sin may not be asserted to arise at all from some necessity. Furthermore, the same cunning of the evil demon incited many who had fallen away from an honest and docile natural disposition against the worshipers of God, and goaded them into furious attacks.
11. But the wicked one cannot accomplish these things always, nor toward the multitude. For since great sins are not easily committed by the wicked, and the sinners incur the greatest danger, and he himself is not altogether and absolutely persistent in such things, but rather, diminishing such wicked actions and reducing them to a small number, he attacks the unalarmed, and not only leaves the great, but even the smallest, since he cannot spread his nets of fraud against the former; but against the weaker ones, C who are destitute of all help or have little in themselves, he stretches nets of every kind. Such, indeed, are we—I who proclaim these things to you, and you who hear them—feeble and altogether powerless men, among whom not a few, imagining themselves to possess strength, are found to be utterly defenseless, even though we, lifted up by vain confidence, appear to ourselves to be equipped with an infinite store of weapons.
12. The god-hating hunter, the devil, having spread his nets according to his own design D against such people—and they are many, indeed, in every part of the world and truly numberless—since he sees the light-bearing love in us living and [original-script column: see facsimile]
A cultivating our souls, yet he is unable to perceive the presence of the True Light; he attempts to introduce a dark hatred, preaching it as something acceptable, and thus causing trouble for us all. Now, how he attacks others, those who have experienced it know. As for me, he even strives to deliver me to death; and he would have long since accomplished this, had not God openly defended my cause, who has willed me to remain alive until now, in case I, becoming conscious of myself, might turn back to Him, whom I do not blush, alas, to desert daily.
13. Behold, therefore, today I am driven into exile by hatred—and would that it were from among many and notable people! so that, knowing I was becoming odious to all, I might either defend myself or, having departed from their midst, lie hidden and appear nowhere. But now, men of no worth rise up against me and say to my soul: "There is no salvation for him, neither in his God, nor in the king." Hear, my God and my king, in whom I have placed my trust: in the former, indeed, from the beginning, both by His own nature and in accordance with nature; in the latter, however, after Him and for His sake. But you, my enemies, who B scarcely exceed the number of two—you, the upright laity whom I once knew, and the sacred men, easily countable and not to be made much of—if we were to be weighed together, I and you, truly we would not be balanced on equal scales.
14. And thus, then, I am driven into exile, as I should not be, through the hatred of men who are not good, who, being entirely devoid of humanity, incline toward the nature of wild beasts, and whose savagery my friends flee, struck with fear; I, I say, who once already, when I had fallen among those wild beasts, escaped them with difficulty. You, however, O brothers, since it is permitted to you to be humans and not beasts, friends and not enemies, divine angels and not wicked, pay heed to yourselves and C turn aside from the path of those who tend toward malice and do not walk a straight road, and who will always be the same, as far as one may conjecture. For those whom long-standing instruction and the practical discipline based upon it have not led to what we desire (and we desire, with God, divine love), who would guarantee that they would be changed in a single moment of time, so as to desist from their inveterate malignancy, since, where they appear wicked, they think they excel and attain glory thereby? Indeed, they apply themselves with the greatest zeal to D entice others also into a partnership of sin, so that, gathered as if into a legion, they may show themselves invincible—vile heads placed upon evil bodies—leaders of an army not beloved by God, and they themselves not good, with whom a man of God has nothing in common. Wherefore you too ought to turn away from every such society, knowing well that the enemies of love are held possessed by the devil. And they almost surpass the malice of the demon; for a man who is thus wicked is not simply wicked, but worse than the demon himself. For there are wicked thoughts which, although the demon may not have suggested them, a wicked man nevertheless does not refuse to put forward.
A 15. And here one must also consider the circumstances concerning the blessed Theodora, who feigned being a male, lived among holy men, and ended her life in the monastic state. For a wicked man could easily have diverted her and all the others who followed the same custom (and there were many of them) from the holy company, if he had prevented them from living among them and from the virtue consequent to that life. For by wickedly denouncing them, that women who had taken upon themselves a man's name were circling around the ascetics alone—as if heifers in the midst of a herd of bulls—he would have triumphed over these holy women unto their destruction. For those who, after their death, so greatly admired the way they had lived would not have permitted them to remain among them while they were alive. And such were the thoughts the wicked man entertained. But this man, most expert in malice, was unable to achieve anything of the sort there. Nevertheless, he attempted by other inventions—at least by means of a dream—to come upon these most venerable ascetics and to corruptly suggest thoughts concerning this one or that one or another holy woman, just as he once taught the wife of Pilate, suggesting the worst things, even though he was unable to carry them out. Yet he accomplished nothing of the sort, but, so to speak, that select band of holy women, as well as the monks living with them, escaped the awareness of the demon of malice.
B 16. And behold, it is possible from this point, as from many others, to conjecture that a wicked man sometimes contrives things even more craftily than the demon himself, so that one might dare to say that in such matters the demon is surpassed by the wicked man. Why, therefore, should one who is of such a kind, and who behaves insolently even toward the devil, not be shunned? "Thou," he says, "shalt crush his head"—that is, the serpent's—"and he," O man, "thy heel" (Gen. III, 15). But the wicked man, while I allow him to look at the heel he has been allotted, desires to aim at a head—of someone who is exalted on high with divine honors—in order to vaunt himself in this way. That great head, then, would be healthy indeed, not having been allotted a sound brain, if it did not recoil and guard itself from this wicked serpent; for even men of constant mind, as many as have experienced snakes that leap and fly like arrows, rushing toward the face, when they see such an aerial animal—as the flying one is wont to do most viciously—keep guard both for their face and for the rest of their head, not only with their hands, but with drawn weapons, by which the beast, as it approaches, is hacked to pieces. And while it is indeed severed from one integrity into parts, he who has remained vigilant remains safe and is inscribed among the prudent, having gained, in the preserved head, a certain salutary antidote against the serpent.
D 17. Therefore, flee from these things, so that you do not walk in the footsteps of their love—whether it be no love at all or a lying love—and beware of the diabolical detractions, which are for the most part very grave and frequent, and which ought not even to be named, because such things are unspeakable. By them, the organ of God, the beautiful mouth, becomes useless,
A the interpreter of the mind, by which the speaking animal is distinguished from God. It behoves you to consider here that by the blaspheming man, a loathsome mire is enclosed in the mouth; and that whoever having tasted anything bitter, if he is in sound health of taste, disgusted by the matter, does not only frequently spit and cast out the loathsomeness with his saliva, but also cleanses that beautiful vessel with water and sweet draughts.
18. Why, then, you demon-possessed slanderer, do you cram into your mouth the bitterness of blasphemies, the loathsomeness of which you yourself learn of at some later time? For when you blaspheme, you do not perceive it, as if you were beside yourself. But the one who is blasphemed knows the bitterness thereof best, if he does not hold your insults in contempt. Why do you open your lips and gape, not so as to eat, or to speak simply, or to teach and hymn God, and thus to vomit forth the humors B by which the soul suffers from a lethal plethora; but so as to disgrace yourself, the man of God, as a Christian, by biting and devouring—I do not say your equal, but one who is greatly your superior? Open your mouth according to the Scriptures, and draw in the divine Spirit absolutely, not indeed the evil spirit—for against such a one every sense must be precisely closed. "Open," he says, "thy mouth, and I will fill it." I shall need no delay of time, I shall show no hesitation; but at once, as if you were still speaking good things, I am present. Thus, when you open it, I shall fill it with the Spirit, and I shall feed you with the food of wisdom through the book, just as the prophets also mystically utter. For I am neither lazy, nor envious, nor do I hesitate in my thoughts. But you open, and at the same time I enter. Thus also I, opening my own door, invite both you and all to enter. I am not anxious C as to how I shall fill your mouth, once it is opened wide. And my disciples show this in another way, as many as have been led before tyrants; not after an interval of time, but in that very hour they receive mouth and wisdom, which no adversary who stands against them can contradict. But when you hear here of mouth and wisdom, do not heed the sounding voice inconsiderately, but ponder it more deeply: because he who is not disposed with a more divine mind toward those words, has neither mouth nor wisdom for drawing in the Spirit and for speaking, but is even harder of mouth than those horses which are called hard-mouthed, and indeed is unwise, nay, even irrational.
19. And such things clearly will the one who commands you to open your mouth say to you, for the filling of every good thing, D by which also one is nourished. And in another way, too, does the man who lives according to the truth live. However, he who remains an adversary to God fills it otherwise, making it replete with every depravity. Thus do the mouths of the heretics become full, thus were filled the mouths of those who crucified the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ; whose mouth at that time poured forth: "We have no king but Caesar;" and, "If you do not crucify him, you are no friend of Caesar," and: "Tolle, tolle, crucifige
A eum." Here we must observe the duplication of "Take, take," by which that wicked people increased the counterfeit talent that had been lent to them by their wicked master and usurer, the devil. For he indeed suggested to them once that they should become harmful in the exaltation of the Lord upon the cross; yet they, not burying the loan so as not to be thought slothful, multiplied it for the usurer, not saying "take" only once, but crying out redundantly: "Take, take," and thus proved themselves faithful servants to a most wicked slave who had apostatized from the common Master, and for this reason proved themselves more zealous than he in progressing toward evil. Since wicked men are in many things more clever than their teacher, the devil, and, having received a slight provocation from the master of malice, they become wiser, being advanced from a tiny beginning to great things, and in return producing a hundredfold fruit of malice from a faint seed. Often, moreover, such men, as we indicated at the beginning of the discourse, devise even more things than he—in a way not to be praised; and they scrutinize things that he would not even have thought of, as wicked reasonings arise in their hearts. And there is nothing new B in this, if we consider that the reasoning of the demons is neither perfect, nor pure, nor accurate, nor well-articulated, nor perspicacious, nor of any other nature, as is evident in many cases.
20. Let us refute this insulting coarseness, not ourselves yielding to insults, but blushing on behalf of the detractors, and broken with pity for those who, not to speak in the human manner as God commanded us, instead bark at their brothers, not according to knowledge, but according to all-manner of invention; and I set forth this teaching in another way. Behold, for the sake of discernment, I interrogate you concerning one of those who are praised and for this reason loved by the sensible, and one of those who are to be censured and for this reason shunned by those who think rightly: is praise something good? You will surely say that the matter is so; therefore, its contrary, blame, is an evil. Why then, leaving aside the good, do we apply our minds to the evil? What next? Is thanksgiving a good thing? I examine your souls, and I see them well-disposed toward this, and yet, on the contrary, denying that the ungrateful spirit is a good thing. Why then do the ungrateful not blush, imitating Judas, who inherited that foul name by special right? C But you might say, O ungrateful soul, that the grace was worth an obol. And weigh yourself with such a weight; you will likely find that it does not merely balance out against you, but pulls down the scale with a heavy weight. And thus, you who are (to be set down thus) "worth an obol" would not be annoyed, having an equal gift—and even more so, if you also reflect upon the all-wealthy Lord of the world, God, who was satisfied with two mites, and rejoiced, and did not despise, nor turn away the hand of the widow by which small gifts were offered to Him, not estimating the woman's small offering as a trifle, but blessing her simplicity and her grateful mind. D
21. A I further ask: which is more beautiful, to speak the truth or to lie? But here God, who is Truth itself, does not permit you to seek the answer; rather, He cries out from heaven in a clear voice; and you hear and believe that truth is set before your eyes, and that to lie belongs to the devil alone and, likewise, to his evil offspring. If, therefore, truth is good, why do we become [children] of a lie—and I do not mean by words alone, but especially by deeds? For let no one think that a lie is circumscribed only in words; rather, let them know that it is not least scattered even in the works of men. And B just as someone once observed with wit and accuracy that an impure man speaks mendaciously not only in words or writing, but also through nodding, by way of approval or denial, and suchlike; so also one must recognize that the vice of a lie has its place in false speech, and, if I may say so, in false action. For just as he lies who utters one thing with his lips while devising another within his soul, bringing forth speech discordant with the thoughts dwelling deep within—of which most base seed the first cultivator was he who plotted against our first parents—so also does one act who produces good things in appearance, while through this ostensible upright action he is contriving the most evil things for the future.
22. C And the disciple who loved, yet afterwards betrayed the most wise Master, was the one who first inaugurated such evil. And we, who become like that perverse teacher, imitate his simulations. For we also sometimes appear to love, and we prostrate ourselves before whoever we meet, and smile cheerfully, and provide a helping hand if there is need, and guide [the blind], and supply what is lacking; yet after a short time, forgetting all these things, we lie through those very deeds, ensnaring those who trust us just as birds, which hunters catch by placing lures before their nets. And so, by this wickedness, we lift up those whom we have revered, only to cast them headlong D into ruin; and those who have trusted in our smiles we treat as objects of ridicule. Those whom we were leading by the hand, we despise and twist, whether by binding their hands or otherwise dislocating them. The guidance we were providing we transform into error, turning away from the straight path; and those to whom we had added help where they were in need, we change, plunging them into the loss of their goods, with great force, and perhaps even into the loss of their lives. Thus, in everything we lie, not hitting the mark with our words, but acting crookedly in our deeds, so as to have the Davidic sentiment most truthfully confirmed regarding us, that "All men are liars."
23. And I know many who—perhaps even including myself—argue that, since David prophesied this with prophetic vision, it is impossible to escape the rigour of that statement, according to which we all must be liars. [These] follies
A of those who think thus—it is necessary to attend also to the case of Jonah, who, having announced destruction to the Ninevites as to those who were utterly evil, and having found them having repented and supplicated the Lord and called upon His mercy, even if his prophecy regarding the threatened total destruction was deceived, yet this was of no account before God. For what if the saint was grieved, he being but one, while many thousands of men were saved, and thus [they] multiplied holiness? David, the ancestor of God, might therefore certainly rejoice if, as we blush for the things in which we brilliantly lie, and as we are washed from the shadowy stain with which falsehood stains the angelic, fiery truth, even his prophecy were brought to the test and he himself were in some way found to be a deceiver in this, inasmuch as he is a man. I tell you also that David, speaking truly against us in this way, can say: Woe to us, for whom I become true.
24. But the discourse must return to where it veered off, and those who are liars in all things must be rebuked. Even their movements, and their obeisances, and the blinking of their eyes, and their very breathing are deceptive, and even their benefaction, from which deceit I know not who among us is exempt. For indeed, among the primary goods of life is to help those who are in need, to assist, to console, and to share what is superfluous both in other ways and through lending at interest. And we do this gladly. And we not only receive the brethren who come to us for such alms, but we even strive to search out those who carry their poverty in obscurity as far as we can; having found them, we embrace them, and we pour out upon them our alleged mercy. Yet that is a pitiless strangulation. For we do not allow them C to enjoy the alms, nor to eat and drink what is given for the necessities of life; but, permitting them to swallow down the gift, we immediately call those who have eaten to vomit, so that we may extract from within whatever has entered the stomach. This we call interest, adorning a base business with an honest name. And such a provision of food becomes a mother of famine, and from this, nutrition becomes evacuation, and fullness becomes a forced fast. And seeing the brother paling, we who have fed him cunningly, rejoice as if we had gained something from what he vomited. This is death-bearing aid, a path into the abyss, a pernicious nourishment, a reception that tends toward ruin, hospitality that reeks of robbery, harsh benefaction, a gift foreign to a gift, neither dear to God, who loves the one who has not given his money at usury, nor beloved by men.
25. Perish from life this falsely named beneficence, this pseudo-epigraphic good, this hateful (to God) kindness, this inhuman society, this-to-cities-ruinous acceptance of gifts, this fraudulent friendship, this sugar that is sweet at the beginning but afterwards inaccessible in its bitterness, this plaster that casts one headlong into Hades, this poisonous ointment, this honeyed D noose, this voluntary destruction,
A elaborately contrived death, this welcome danger, but above all the unforeseen ruin, the hidden chasm, the concealing snare—or, to comprise all in one word, this unhappy offspring, since it is a birth of the demon, by whom it was sown and conceived and, as it were, brought forth for a common evil.
26. But such lies among people who are not good—to whom God has given the opportunity to do much good, but whose base choice stands in the way of the straight path in life according to the will of God—are of this sort. Come, let me also set forth to you another evil, similar and laborious, from the demons, which for the most part is also discerned in words, but consequently is manifested by deeds. You say that you have an Archbishop at present, namely me; and you say well. For I am still here, even if I am unworthy of the dignity. And whatever sentiments you entertained regarding my predecessors, they indeed knew them, but you remember them. B But may God grant that he who now lives is not such as those new arbiters of mine—I mean the poor Leo, as he inscribes himself, whom, had the mill of the Church not nourished, he would have perished of hunger, an ant-lion without food—either think or foolishly dream him to be. Moreover, regarding those who by conspiracy—whether given to him from God or from elsewhere—treat of the business of the bishops of Thessalonica, of whom there is no reckoning to be exacted, namely, calculating his life, feeling, agitation, and entire physical composition: they do not conduct themselves so accurately regarding their own house and family as they laboriously pry into the administration of this Eustathius, malignantly investigating his life: what words he speaks, how he converses with those he encounters, what he thinks. They wish, I suppose, if it is possible, to examine even what he dreams and what he imagines. They accurately weigh his anger and his desire, C to see if each is regulated according to the canons or otherwise. And in general, they constitute as a slave—or rather, as a most insignificant thing—that father according to the spirit (I speak confidently), who is to be desired, even though they themselves designate him as a son, acting toward him with excessive authority, subjecting him to petty calculations, demanding that he do this and that as it pleases them, wishing to force him, insulting him, looking at him grimly, threatening, raging, and wishing, as they say, to drag him down to the ground and by the hair to the floor, doing everything through which the father may be changed into the slave, the free man into the footman, and the Greek into the barbarian, D and through which he who is learned may become ignorant, and—most evil of all—the great Archbishop may be held for a common man, and the leader of the people who is here may be held for a layman, if not in an extraordinary way, yet not the lowest.
27. So here, too, people lie, speaking of the Archbishop whom they assign to the lot of the impious, and whom, while they bless him in houses of prayer as Archbishop, they sing of in the public thoroughfares with loud, clamorous preludes—as they say, by shouting—whence the world, that is to say the things on earth and sea, correctly...
A mimics us as false and deceptive. And this, which we uttered another time in a broad manner and in word and mouth, the elemental constitution does not bring about of itself; but rather, when the times change, they either perform or undergo the things of one another, having turned, or rather, having been overturned into change, and thus are lying to us concerning the hopes we have in it, according to the likeness within us. For indeed, we too behave so poorly toward one another, as we ought not. I say "as we ought not" here, because men devise not a few lies not without some virtue, managing the lying with a sense of order. Hence, some are even praised at times if they have lied for a good purpose; but they are faulted again, if they do not truthfully state the case when it is proper. And this argument is also testified to by him who gave the maxim: "Where it is necessary for a lie to be told, let it be told." But that is both rare, and difficult to perceive, and not even easy to discern.
28. C I shall also set forth another paramount lie, which may God erase from the world, since it lies against God himself. For when we make a contract, such that we cannot allow it to be adulterated—"In the name of the Father," we say, "and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit"—and not only do we say this, but we also place at the head of these writings the adorable sign of the cross, the salvation of the world, sketching it with our own hands. Then, when it is necessary to bring into effect what has been chosen, and we are there seeking a loan perhaps or another debt-repayment due, we trample upon the contract—in which such fearsome things have been written beforehand—by swearing D that we neither marked the cross, nor wrote the contract, thus by this later oath invalidating both the preceding cross and that fearsome, sworn intention. And here it is for me to consider and tremble, if indeed our common Master, whom we invoked in the contracts, wills that we take up this cross and follow the Crucified, and we, by showing ourselves to be cross-deniers, if it may be called so, perish. O Christian man, if you state a simple word, you ought not to set it aside; and do you also lie while swearing? "I have sworn," he says, "and I have confirmed it" [*]. But you swear and cast it away as if it were nothing! You hold an oath in place of a net, and you produce it as a lure by which you wish to catch, not only the more simple-minded, but even those who have penetrated into the deep recesses of knowledge. And what more does the devil do, the father of the lie D (whose children, so to speak, are those who swear with deceit, inasmuch as they themselves, like him, beget lies), reserving their affirmations to mere words?
29. And there are indeed many even now, glorying and saying, each one of them, "My word is truly a word." But I, laughing at such people, wish my own to glory, each one of them, in the Lord, that "My word is not a word simply, but a work.
A a work that is such, moreover, to a much greater degree, if it is coupled with an oath. For while all speech strikes the air and, having agitated it in such a way, perishes immediately upon being heard, that which is written is not simply a disturbance of the air, but has already taken on a body, and, having passed from hearing into sight, becomes public as it is viewed, and appears on the tablet’s surface like a column inscribed; it cuts off the perjurer and makes the forsworn contemptible.
30. Why then do we not choose the better part? Why do we defile the word that is within us, and through it provoke to anger the great and primary Word, by whom we have received the power both to live and to speak and to think? Thereby we are in danger of causing the great good from thence to end in evil for us. For if, in speaking, we did not also possess reason, it would be no fault of ours, just as it is not for the irrational animals. And perhaps one who is not of sound mind would speak ill of the best of human gifts, intelligence, as if it were the worst. B
31. And what is worse in such cases is that, if we have lied sometimes not by our own will, we feel shame, and we repent, and we defend our cause most diligently and beg for pardon, so that we may not be convicted of a lie. But conversely, if we have knowingly fabricated lies and have devised falsehood as if it were some brilliant pursuit, we pride ourselves against the innocent, as if not even a three-fold victor in contests, having carried off a great prize of victory, nor even the great David himself so rejoiced or boasted when he had struck down the wicked Saul (Goliath), as we think great things of ourselves because through the cleverness of an oath we have outwitted a brother, when it is not permitted to covet the property of any stranger, much less that of a Christian like unto ourselves. C
32. All these things, and whatever else marks the character of a lie, show that they are liars, if not all men, at least those of us so disposed toward the truth. And how would that be human, or rather not a lie against humanity, if, abandoning worthier works, we sit idly and, so solicitous, are busy investigating the life of others—not to see who is good, who is praiseworthy, who is a lover of God, but who is a sinner? And what gain shall we report from this? To write down, to deride, to mock, to slander, to falsely accuse, and through all these things to play the man-eater; what could be more profane than this, and more hateful to God? D
33. And if one must approach the things of falsehood in another way, we lie in our walk, when our feet run into wickedness. Neither is our stance true, when we recoil, abandoning the stability that is in good things. We lie in our pleasures, when, extinguished, they do not harmonize with us. We lie in our griefs, when we are pained at heart about things we should not be. We lie in weeping, when we weep maliciously in the manner of a crocodile, because the power to devour our brothers completely is lacking to us. For indeed, the river crocodile, once it has overcome a man and pulled him entirely under, even up to the head, then learning that it is fleshless
and useless for eating, it wishes to weep, not out of pity, but because it earns little from the leavings. A We lie [when we say we have] the house of God within us closed, while for us the entrances and exits of the senses, which are the doors to it, lie open. Seeing, we do not see, nor shall we see. For we overlook those worthy of being looked upon. We are dull to the perception of a good fragrance, wallowing in the mud of life, and not preparing ourselves to be a divine scent, directed toward the Most High as incense. With hearing we hear, and do not understand. We lie even regarding taste, when we do not taste so that we might see that the Lord is good. Furthermore, the sense of touch is not itself devoid of sins, because with all our senses we grasp at what we ought not. I shall say something new to many: we lie also in regard to friendships and enmities—not that we should not be praised for the absence of evil, but because we do not perform even that according to a right rule, nor do we hate those whom we ought to hate. For there are, there are indeed those whom we ought to hate with a hate pleasing to God B and implacable, those whom David also deems detestable with a perfect hatred for their foolish hostility.
34. But here I must necessarily put an end to my discourse, because of the horror (for I shudder at this shark-like beast, enmity, just as I do at the demon himself who keeps it within his enclosures); I shall take up arms against it in another discourse, in which, having discharged arrows as the Holy Spirit directs—who fashions weapons against such evils—I shall take you as judges of such an undertaking. In the meantime, begin to offer me help in this labor through prayers and supplications to God the Most High, which, as you raise them to God, you will also use to shoot at the common enemy. C Let an intimate hope arise in you, therefore, that not much time will pass before I bring to you another discourse, God granting, full of doctrine, so that we may thus be of one accord with each other, although we are circumscribed by the boundaries of places, and discussing things dear to God, and being heard, and thus delighted, we may send up glory to the Word who is in the beginning and before the ages, whose glory, extended into the ages of ages, can never have an end. Amen.
The following volume contains other writings of Eustathius.