To a Certain Stylite of Thessalonica

TO A CERTAIN STYLITE OF THESSALONICA

Of the same, concerning one who strives beyond measure to appear upon a column in Thessalonica, near the seaside area. And would that it had been granted to him to understand clearly what is being said! For then the man would not, it is clear, have made the ascent with such disdain. ^A

1. The name "column" (στύλος) wishes to signify a meaning similar to that of a "stele" (στήλη), because the designation of both comes from "standing." It stands, however, apart from the other, even if in another way it is near. For a "stele" might at some time also have engravings of letters, from which the term "to publish" (στηλιτεύειν) has been derived; but a "column" was not invented for this purpose, but rather for a support. And indeed, the former is also appropriate to call a "statue" (ἀνδριάντι). At any rate, we speak of "stelae of kings" and "statues," as if it were the same thing, to say it this way or that. But one would not call a statue a "column." Now, both terms have differences between them in this way, and not only these, ^B but also if one might wish to apply them otherwise to any task; for this consideration is secondary to us. It is possible, however, to find them seeming to coincide in the same thing. At any rate, the geographer from Amaseia, calling them "stelae" and "small columns," seems to put them into one category. But if the "column" does not stand necessarily to support—as the "pillar of fire" seems to show, upon which nothing was placed to be carried, but this has been altered, and the "pillar of fire" is not the primary term—it nevertheless seems, according to the proper meaning of the word "column," to have been erected for support, and to have a prop placed beneath the object situated above it. If this is so, it itself would not be an end in itself; for the "stele" is rather of such a nature. And that which is placed upon the "column" is more purposeful, whether that be a dwelling or something else. ^C

2. Therefore, concerning the "column" and the one named before our eyes, we must observe for what reason it has been erected conspicuously, and what and of what sort is that which is held up, or rather, what is being established and made firm. Now, that a man is being carried, and that this "column" has been set to hold up a Nazirite, we all see, of course, and it is agreed; and it is also clear for whose sake it has been raised on high. But I do not wish our vision to terminate in the sight here, but to extend further into insight. And this will be ours if we define what is seen more theoretically. For thus, according to a loftier apprehension, the sought-after truths will be grasped. ^D

3. There is, therefore, in theory a "column" that is a ladder, having the capacity to lead to heaven the one who yearns for God; and those who run up it with dedication, and ascend without hindrance and without looking back, one might auspiciously call angels of God. But those who descend from it sinfully, those who are far from...

^A imitating Simon, are cast headlong, and, what is worse, are ranked as those who fall like Lucifer. Such then is this column: an arduous summit of the good, and those who study to ascend it climb towards the pinnacle of virtue, as if through a rough road of one’s harsh life, and where the ascent is great; but those on the other hand who roll down from it—among whom may none of those enrolled to the Most High God descend—easily slip into the abyss of Tartarus.

δ'. The “Mountain” and this “column,” from which help from God comes to him who raises his eyes there, in which also, as on some mountain, the pure man sacrifices his son patriarchally within himself, and is reckoned worthy to offer sacrifice to God.

ε'. Also a “mast” is observed on such a mountain, which, if once taken into the soul, would not let the human vessel of salvation be carried outside, nor wander wherever it happens, when it traverses the sea of life by its own manner, whether by favorable or other winds.

ς'. This “Hill,” having the banner of virtue, which there is no way the adversaries will not fear; which, if it should incline or turn aside from the straight path according to reason, or if having slumped it should descend from the height, would not differ from the mountains and hills which are humbled according to the Scripture.

^B ζ'. The “Treasury,” this column, built safely above and having departed from things below, and not easily beset, where the treasure according to the Spirit is stored—virtue, than which nothing precious is worthy; which indeed is gathered by God, according to him who said it, and is sealed in His treasures.

η'. “Nest,” this which is seen, in which those who walk the air are nourished apostolically, and are ready for flight to the things above, and are distinguished from many sparrows according to the saving word.

θ'. This “Tower of strength” from the face of the enemy, the terrible warrior, who, devising engines of war, brings them against such men for their ruin. May this be a tower of strength, constructed from the cornerstones of truth into firmness, and finished into virtue; or even a “tower of ivory,” from which he who is a lover of things divine is gladdened; not, however, to be finished into ^C a tower of Chalane, built in vain against heaven, nor to be made according to the elevation of him who, having neglected the “study of death” for philosophy, was puffed up, and then leaped down into death.

ι'. Not only is this column a “tower of strength” and a “saving refuge,” but also a “fortified city,” and this not only lying on a mountain, and such as not to be hidden because it is conspicuous, but also reaching to heaven because of the height observed in it, so that it is fitting to say that he who dwells about it is a “citizen of heaven.”

ια'. Even if, for the sake of the kinship in the meaning of the terms, we might bring this column to the same, to the “pillar,” it could also be called a “statue of endurance,” ^D which is borne upon this “pillar.”

^A 12. This column presents a flame to those sailing far upon the sea, carrying light within, him who with David psalms: “A lamp unto my feet, Thy divine law, and a light unto my paths”; and approaching the Father of lights, and to the light which he has by nature, adding the light from God for himself. 13. Stirring up here the spark of the meaning, and kindling the shining light, he terms this a “pillar of fire,” a far-shining “pillar,” because of its height; a “torch,” because of the service to God of the spiritual man enclosed within it; and the mention of the “pillar” also provides David as material for meditation. 14. But if one, further augmenting the “stylite” light, should bring it to the sun in which the Most High has placed His tabernacle, dwelling and walking in it, then surely he will also reckon this “pillar” as the “house of the sun,” more venerable than the sensible sun which the disciple studying philosophy deems lower; for this sun of ours shall not be inaccessible, nor will it know its setting. It will shine light, though, in a way not according to the sensible sun, but even when carried up from the earth it will shine with the light of its works evangelically, most brightly before men; and when it has set beneath the earth, like the visible disc, and is overshadowed in the grave, it will allow the rays of its good works to shine upon the earth no less than before, so that by this means, having driven away the night of forgetfulness, it may make the light of good remembrance to shine eternally, which light makes that day for those who are truly just an imitation of the eternal day, showing itself to be a child of both day and light. ^C 15. Nor is this “pillar” only such a house, but it is a most venerable house of the “sun of righteousness,” of God, because it is also a “house of prayer”; for if it were not this, it would be the den of some soul-robber, a hole for an adder, or a lair for a dragon; just as, in the manner of a snail carrying its house, he would adhere within to everything, if he had drawn in that moisture of life; but in the manner of a pearl, if he is disposed more tightly and for spreading light widely, he is enclosed therein. 16. If the pillar is to be ranked among such honorable houses, it would not appear discordant, but most harmonious, and we would call it a companion of all the divine virtues; and it will be well reckoned as that tabernacle consisting of a single roof, while the roof above it will be called the high heaven, for which the ascete ^D makes his ascent, passing from glory to glory, in which God is sung to be exalted, whose glory is above all the earth. And blessed is he who seeks such houses, and not the lower and earthly ones, which, the more they are raised up on high, the more they reproach our humility. For they always ascend above us, and it is permitted to say, as to all grand construction and height erected on high throughout the earth, that they are nothing other than prisons and tombs, called by milder names such as porticoes, palaces, and prideful designations; all of which one might better call graves of the living, according to the Scripture saying: “Their houses are their sepulchres”; and not forever, but for a time that is for the most part brief

and ^A in number easily comprehended; and even if they should surpass the tomb ^B of Mausolus, much less do they measure up in political magnitude to the tomb of Cyrus among the Persians.

17. But that we, ^B having wandered away from the pillar as if in some labyrinth, might not be trapped in the inextricable snare of those treacherous burrows, we must again look upward and consider the pillar—and in another way according to a definite rationale. This high-treading one is a watchtower, raised for good and salutary for those who are beset by enemies, to whom the understood sword is gleaming. And the memory of History evokes for us certain "Hermes-heaps" (cairns); these are piles of stones, heaped together to a moderate height, suggesting a reminder of some ancient Hermetic murder, which old lore retells. And the stones are said to have been placed ^C against the murderer—as if they were also thrown at him—and they are gathered not in anger, but quietly, and are piled up in great peace. Yet they are sanctified as a penalty for murder, and the evildoer pays a kind of justice through them.

18. But this discourse mixes something of sportive play with its earnestness, and casts a shadow, not ugly, but dim, as if in a shade. Yet these things of ours represent well, according to our ability, the light of truth. For this very mass of stones is built against the murderer of souls, raised for his destruction. And so it is permitted to us here to say, paraphrasing the most sacred scripture: “Whoever has not sinned (that is, has not fallen from the steadfast hope and faith in God), let him cast a stone at him.” Let him strike down the robber who has produced the soul-destroying sin; and let him perform such ascensions to God, and ordain a divine edifice.

19. But we must leave behind these such lowly hills of earth. We must again grasp the lofty column according to the proposed path. This—a “lofty rising”—is also something wondrous, not that of a sea which winds blowing swell up, and which they lift from a lowly and underlying plain into rising mountains; but the rising of ascetics, who have nothing of the sea below, except that they do not possess the salty heat of sweats due to virtue; rather, they sail towards the abundance of goods from God. And moved by the divine Spirit, they cannot be poured out among the lowest things, but tend toward the heights, being about to approach the Divinity.

20. But to such a wondrous elevation it is also opportune to compare from the opposite side the saying: “Wondrous is the Lord in the highest,” namely in those who are thus elevated, who walk in the air, who despise the earth, and who do not lie about their loftiness. For they themselves are worthy of admiration, thus lifting themselves up and shining in wondrous works. And the Lord is wondrous in them as in His saints, whom they glorify with their own members and torments, making wondrous in them His own wills; who, as saints, ascending to God and thus in the highest ^D

^A state (as they themselves look upon our affairs from above), this pillar is for them a kind of heaven for him who rules over his passions; against whom they seem to shoot, not impossibly, but rather with ease and with most excellent aim, they who shoot straight toward understanding, and for whom the heavenly things are set as the goal, and as many as are directed toward the prize of the upward calling. From such a heaven, the man who has mastered those who creep upon the earth—and who is in this sense a lord—looks down upon the earth and sees the sons of men, no longer being simply that man who is so by birth, or (to say the same thing) by the inclination toward the earth, as some philosopher once put it; but, having become a son of the most high God by participation, he does not look back at such people as sons of men who remain intent upon material things.

^B 21. Here, I think, it is good to say that such an elevation even renews the youth of the ascetic, like that of an eagle. For by lifting the spiritual elder into high-flight, it gives him the power from there to swoop down most terrifically upon the immaterial—save that they are flesh-eating, or rather soul-devouring—birds, attacking with keen sight, so that nothing is hidden and nothing escapes him, but he rushes upon all such with the vigor of youth, striking fear into them. Thus, indeed, the pillar has been contemplated as a kind of wondrous height.

22. But that we might descend from these higher images and describe this thing from another point of view (for it is a varied matter), it is also a prison, into which the ascetic, withdrawing himself, shuts himself away from external distractions, distinguishing between body and soul, and condemning both by a kind of domestic law (for our law is not in accord with the [merely] just, but that itself is reason and greater than the law), and he pronounces sentences in the likeness of that final punishment which no one shall escape if they have lived without virtue.

23. This pillar, furthermore, may be understood ^C as an athletic platform, or a martyr’s stage, upon which the unconstrained athlete has ascended—or rather, he descends of his own will into the great arena against his own flesh, acting violently, and struggles gloriously, and schemes to cast down the opposing demon.

24. One might also call this pillar, in evangelical terms, a “furnished upper room,” in which God, having reclined by participation, finds rest; or, to say the same thing, ceases from every work that is purely appropriate to the earth. For in other ways He always works in a manner more worthy of God, performing things that are pleasing to God.

25. And if this upper room is also paved with stones, upon which, as is likely, the temperate one sleeps—which the structure of such a building suggests to the mind—this ^D “lithostrotos” (paved floor) would also be something not lacking in solemnity, and more beautiful than the theater famous in the history of the Gymnosophists, who, pursuing the shadow of virtue,

had no hesitation about lying down and resting upon strewn stones.

26 It appears that the column is not unlike that paved floor, or rather a bed imitating God, a bed which those who crucify and mortify their members according to God prepare for themselves. For, striving toward the things that are above by the contempt of earthly things, they slay the alien man within themselves, and renouncing evil desires, they become partners in another life.

27 Moreover, what prevents one from seeing even in that column a tomb, especially because of the mysteries accomplished in it: the ascetic’s funeral shroud, the mortuary covering, the burial granted to the dead, the sacred hymns chanted for the dead; all of which indicate that he who is placed on the column is dead and buried.

28 ^B But just as this column is outlined and dimly depicted by way of a sketch and a primary drawing; so a wise man, taking the given basis, will proceed more clearly, and having once found such a foundation, will bring the work to its perfect peak. From there it is easily provided for us without labor, and such is the man rising up here, and having ascended to the title of stylite. For if the column is such as the descriptive discourse has hitherto posited, and he who is upon the column is truly, according to the aim of the contemplation from beginning to end, a great and lofty thing of man, and not, as with the many, mean and base. For being essentially distributed according to those things by which the column is defined, it would be contemplated as a manifold good: one in discourse according to the column, but otherwise multiplied logically by its actions.

29 ^C For he would appear angelic through the ladder we see, ascending in thoughts toward God, and keeping no relation to earthly things at that time, but soaring overall to the Most High, and acting supernaturally according to the mind, to which nothing of the lower things pertains by nature; yet descending again as if into the depths with his deeds, in which he is associatively present with those below, and with the benefits which he conveys into the soul for those who encounter him in imitation. So that by this discourse this column might be sought from God as a sign both in depth and height, and might be given from there to the ascetic, who preserves in another way the symbol of the "ladder." For it, indeed, having an upward trajectory, does not in any way depart from the things of the earth, and he who stands upon the column does not entirely separate himself from earthly things as he ascends to God, until, released from the flesh, his spirit flies aloft entirely to Him. ^D There is no way he could be entirely rid of things regarding the earth, although ascending to God, until his mind, released from the flesh, shall take flight entirely toward Him.

30 As the stylite will be considered in the manner of an angel. And consequently he does not ascend to the peak of the virtues, but immediately shows that he has ascended, and he does not force his ascent through rugged paths (for that is peculiar to athletes and buffoons), but he encounters the easier way than that which those who have crossed the rugged paths tread, and who have reached the highest regions; they cast out with quiet and fear that by which the weak are terrified, having proceeded along a trodden and level path of love, and, which is the same thing, they have drawn near to God. There

^A the meadows of true delights flourish, and the virtues perform their dances, no longer buffeted by the evils of life, nor mixed with thorny sins, but purely fruitful, and to all wickedness unmixed, and genuinely undefiled and uncorrupted.

31. I wish to be raised up to the contemplated mountain ^B and to ascend to the hill neighboring it, and to become a sharer of the "treasury," just like the "treasure" hidden within, for the sake of enrichment, and to fly to the "nest," and to stand upon the "tower," and to map out the "city" that has been contemplated, and to apply the sight of the "column" to light and fire for illumination, and to contemplate the "sun," and to apply the theory to all other things more broadly, as much as has been fulfilled for us by the "column" passage. But I slacken much of the impulse, seeing the hearers snatching ^C at it, and almost carrying the thoughts on their lips. Therefore, it will not be necessary to insist upon these things or to prolong the discourse, but to bring the theory forward for the time being as is appropriate.

32. Do you hear, O Stylite, what the "column" is, and what is that which is upon it? You have therefore from this wherewith to understand to what end these things are, and there is no need for much labor of our lungs, as they say. See, you who seem to be standing, lest you fall ^D; see, lest you fall from high purpose. You have promised an angelic way of life. It is necessary, therefore, to manifest a way of life and constancy consistent with angelic virtue, and divine intrepidity, and to guard against weakness of mind, and even more strongly against ruin. You have ascended upon a blessed summit. It is necessary, therefore, that the summit in virtues be held by you. This mountain holds you, elevating you to God, and it surpasses all mountains and hills; do not cling to the errors of life, but put on a generous spirit and lead others upward; so that with divine zeal, you who are elevated, you may draw to yourself if not all (for perhaps you could not), at least many who, looking upon your good works, will desire to be lifted up to the things above. You have been harvested for God, just like some priceless treasure. Hide yourself, therefore, lest the soul-snatcher rob you and bury you where the divine talent cannot increase. The discourse has indeed contemplated the ascetic "column" as a "nest," but it hesitates to dwell entirely upon this term because of the perfect man in it, who is not to be considered as the imperfect and wingless, to be compared to birds that fly through the clouds, as the Scripture says, or to royal eagles, as we said above. Therefore, O our eagle, bear yourself royally and do not be ashamed of virtue, spreading your wings wherever fate may have carried you, and not giving yourself to the winds, but flying toward God, pursue a fruitful hunt.

33. You hold the rank of a "soldier," stationed upon the "tower of strength" that has been contemplated, and being a debtor to suffer evil, so that as a good man you may please Him who has enlisted you, to speak apostolically. Put on, therefore, power, and arm yourself against every treachery and the engines of war. And indeed I know that you are fully able to protect [yourself...

with the breastplate you have firmly put on, and with the rest of the iron that encircles you. But I seek to behold in you the breastplate of the great Paul, and all the rest of his panoply. Put this on above all, put this on; and the enemy of souls will depart, delivering himself to the Harpies. For while this iron being worn is good, and arrows against the most wicked fighter are forged from it, yet it suffices for nothing to make the soldier within it invincible if he casts away the apostolic equipment. But why do I say it does not suffice? I should have said that without it, the ascetic loses his works, and what is topmost is dragged to the earth, and what is light is pulled down, and he is cast to the earth, ceasing his flight on high. ^B

34. Many has iron stirred up in the battle against the intellectual enemy; many it has made blunt and encumbered, having surrounded them with weapons, having cast them into shackles, fetters, and stocks: those whom one would justly pity if they are navigating the sea of life, which is so terribly tempestuous, surging uncontrollably, and threatening danger; and whereas they ought to be carried over it with unencumbered limbs, they are instead wearing the weight of iron. Iron, indeed, is not a burden that plunges those who are truly strenuous straight down, but is ordained as a saving and sacred anchor; but for those who are otherwise disposed, it becomes like lead in violent waters, sinking those held by it. Therefore, such iron is not of necessity either dulling to the keenness of ascetic works, nor is it light, nor does it halt the upward flight and bring one down to the earth; nor is it harmful, but it wavers in a way—and according to the power among the wise, it has perhaps fallen out thus or otherwise, balanced by the scale of the will. ^C

35. I bring forth to those present a convenient matter that occurred recently, for some to recall (for many know it), and for others to whom it is unknown, as a new thing. A divine monastery, not built for splendor, because it was not venerable even in name, is washed by this gulf of ours which is before our eyes, a little before the walls of the city, which the rising morning sun looks upon. This holy house was nourishing a certain man who feigned to be an ascetic, not so much adorned by the blackness of his garments as concealing his hypocrisy beneath them. And iron bound him, some girding his loins, some laid upon his shoulders, and some around his arms. Such was he, and he would walk about, deceiving many, bound in iron, paying, as I suppose, this divine penalty for some crime, and appearing as a debtor for such attire. A certain occasion arose, and matters concerning him were strange, and they needed to be attended to; and behold, a wonder. The iron was loosed of its own accord—though it was worth many such bonds—and the iron lay upon the ground; and the other people’s loads, a heavy weight, lay upon the ascetic’s shoulders, as I suppose in the shop of a certain tavern-keeper, who invites the weary to himself that they may be refreshed. Keeping this exchange as the reward for the ascetic’s exercise and virtue, he was receiving ^D especially this price of hypocrisy, and went away rejoicing himself, while leaving tears to the master of the things deposited. How much better, therefore, to be dressed magnificently, in a splendid cloak, and to be whole, than to be thus girded with iron and performing infinite evils! And now among us...

^A that iron is preserved, becoming a dignified spectacle, indeed a provision of laughter for the many, but of conversion for the good. For it will lie as a triumph of hypocrisy, convicting feigned virtue, and holding up as an example the man who is not good, perhaps not even having been cast aside by the base painter of virtue, but having himself escaped the treacherous man, so that he might not be rendered useless; being a seal of a virtuous life, and a symbol of a rougher way of living, yet trafficking the blessedness of virtue in a counterfeit man, and pimping, as it were, for vice, and leading many base lovers into it—or rather, leading good men, who have become zealots of it, into being enslaved to desire, and deluded by the appearance of baseness that is held out before them.

36. Let no one be of this sort, let no one be so burdened; ^B but carrying the wing of unsuspiciousness, let him be taken up light, and ascend to God, knowing that while a life without iron and simple is fine, yet the iron that arms is also fine, if it be carried well, and having become polished by simplicity it shines, and has not cast itself into the form of the type. ^C 37. For what use is it to waste time in stories, as if I were to turn the vanity of iron-wearing? And why must I remind one of ancient customs and nations, in which you find the military, burdened with arms throughout life, in church, at banquets, on the roads, and everywhere? As if the weight of the panoply were so easy for them and a habitual covering, just like any clothing, for those exercised by the constancy of habit? And why must I tell more, as many even beyond arms carried stones worthy of mention as a burden, which they ought to have cast away at the right moment to engage in a work more noble and lighter, as if one were not armored, but simple, or even half-naked? Why then should I busy myself with such arguments, where it suffices to say, cutting short the long, that I do indeed love and greatly love such iron, reflecting with myself that no war is more easily finished than that war which is taken up for the judgment of iron; and does spiritual war not best require this iron? He who carries it with right reason is considered, like a chosen dart, destined for God, lifted up by the wing of intellectual elevation, while as a dart he is sharp, carrying the iron with him among dangers as he kills enemies, and thus like a winged arrow, vibrated at the opportune moment and twisted against the devil, he is brought forth into the flying arrow of the day. Thus, indeed, I exceedingly love the carrying of iron; but I say that one must not despair that salvation is to be sought in another way. For many battles and the slaughter of enemies could be accomplished without iron. For in fact, stones have aided many and have erected countless trophies, both publicly and privately. ^D

38. If, then, even the one sufficient in hand, David, shone forth with such a weapon against a great enemy, if that is the case, let the iron-wearing ascetic know that he does a good work; but let him abstain from judging the rest, and from speaking and thinking lofty things, lest he carry the iron only outwardly and shine on the surface, but rather let him carry it into the depths of his soul, and thus be bowed down in humility, nay, armored on all sides—

so that he might prevail over those who war against him. But even so, you occupy the place of a soldier who is a guardian of the tower, O high-minded man, and you must be fashioned according to that role; and not only this, but you have also been allotted to inhabit the heavenly city, and this one, which is fortified. Therefore, do not become a citizen of the kind that the holiest Gospel condemns, nor wander into deserts, in which someone might falsely claim to possess a civic life, both gentle and philanthropic, in accordance with God; rather, keep this city in perpetual, impregnable, immovable, and permanent strength, so that you do not circumscribe the good within yourself alone, causing it to become desolate and, by your death, casting into the earth what is most excellent. But the zeal inspired by God will extend it throughout the whole earth, even to those who come after. For to what purpose would you survive the city, yet not leave a blessed memory to those who will succeed you—while the memory of the just is in benediction, but conversely, that which is worthy of contempt is like a sepulcher, soon covered over with empty dust, a thing of which not one stone worthy of remembrance should remain? The citadel, however, will be preserved, and will always stand, if the Lord, when invoked, guards it, so that you who act as guard may not watch in vain. For thus, the one who ascends will not lose it. ^B

39. Be this, then, as I have said, and since you are a lighthouse, do not extinguish the light, nor allow those who are tending toward you to wander straying in the darkness, lest by running into jagged rocks and shoals, when it is time to sail, they fall into the deep abyss and no longer consider those things here to be the beacon of a lighthouse, but rather see a furnace of fire that consumes men. But do not make the fiery column of contemplation contemptible, so that it might be overwhelmed as if by shifting sand, nor allow it—because of opposing winds—to be scattered and left unguarded and extinguished, leaving travelers going through the darkness to wander, lest they perhaps become easy prey for their pursuers, and instead of a saving fire, the punishing fire of Gehenna be kindled. You appear as the sun in that dwelling: therefore, shine from above and burn as much as is necessary, but dispense life to those who must live according to God. This place of yours has been seen to be the house of God: because there is a certain God in it, that is to say, one who contains God within himself and is a participant in God by reason of the similarity of his form. Whoever calls [him] God leaves no room to think of anything better or higher; and by naming the one who possesses God within himself, he has placed the living God closer. It entirely behooves us, if this is how matters stand, to call this dwelling a holy temple and a miraculous edifice, deservedly so on account of the just and holy man who inhabits it—for God is just and holy, whose likeness the ascetic in this temple depicts within himself. ^{C D}

40. If you have thus been raised to God by contemplation, there is no need for any wandering, nor to look directly at virtue itself in sequence, [to know] that the pillar is seen as the dwelling place of virtue. For a man full of divine gifts, and thus full of God, whose virtue covers the heavens, is surely all virtue, conceding little to the flesh. Therefore, let those who see you think that they are seeing virtue itself; so that, by being fashioned according to such an image, they may be led to the ultimate archetype. Established as a looker-out in this watchtower—

^A, you must by no means fall asleep unto death, lying down upon it and being carried off into a very deep slumber, but you must guard yourself, lest you fall under the hand of the enemies, along with all those who trust in your watch.

41. It has come to pass that you have been lifted up ^B, and not simply so, but as if to the height of heaven, becoming worthy of a dignity of lordship that befits a perfect man, such as the one who was seen a moment ago to be divinely inspired. Do not, therefore, wish to become groveling, or to hear from somewhere that you must descend, or that you must otherwise ascend downward, regarding those things where you have tread—upward on the pillar, but downward in your concern for the things of the earth. "You have been commissioned to despise the earth; you have been lifted up," as David would say, as one "chosen from among the people of God." You are now treading the ether, elevated above earthly things. Do not make useless the wing by which it is possible for you to fly. You are heavenly, not only because you are a heavenly plant (for this is what every man is, as some have philosophized), but also because, having been uprooted from the earth, you strive to become a plant of paradise. Hold fast, then, to the heavenly, while looking down upon the opposing abyss of Tartarus. Preserving all these things, acquire that which is elevated in the marvelous, that which is heavenly, that which is primary; and do not cast away any of such examples, so that you may be raised to the ultimate perfection.

42. If, however, the defining discourse arrives through many symbols and has led you to a divine dignity ^C, and perhaps this too seizes you toward pride on account of your preeminence, yet hold in your reasoning not only him who was caught up to the third heaven, while remaining below in humility, but also the "prison" into which the theory in this discourse has led and confined you. And by this discourse, cast yourself downward, even if someone’s eyebrow is lifted in pride; and while ascending until you are closer to God in heaven through the nearness of virtue, descend also to the abysses with sincere humility. Say also yourself: "I am a worm, and not a man," so that if someone retorts that this is not what you are, but a heavenly man—as if you were to justify yourself by claiming this exalted state—you would not hasten to be brought down to something most base. Therefore, through the primary and the lofty, you are exalted, but again, through strict judgment, descend into humility. For judgment and imprisonment are in a certain way linked at the doors of houses ^D, nor is any prison conceived of without the sentence of a crime.

43. And here I would also deem it necessary that the imprisonment be entire and complete, so that one is not enclosed in one part, while in another part—and that the most sovereign one—the prisoner is left free and wanders wherever he wishes. For would such a one be what he is if he were indeed built into his body as if into a pillar, but with his appetites pasturing himself in freedom? Since, if he had the lightness of desires with which to be winged, he would have flown along with them, and would rarely have haunted this little cell of his. You must be enclosed, then, O man—you, your whole self, in body of course and in soul, and especially in soul—so that you may be wholly enclosed as if into the soul of a monk, in simplicity of complete integrity

^A setting together the composite of your nature toward a whole-souled victory in virtue, and regarding the column, as much as possible, as an analogous body for the inner man, for the whole soul.

44. But if it is absolutely necessary for some desires ^B to be sent outside the column, I ask that these be held in due measure, and very reasonably, and in a way worthy of the inner narrowness and restraint of the ascetic; so that, just as a good mistress sends out prudent maids wherever there is need, so too may your soul make use of the more useful ministers of desires. For shall the stylite not also have desires? And certainly, since he is not soulless, he will crave food, he will crave drink, and both in due need; he will desire the meeting of persons with whom it is necessary that he converse; there will be in him an aspiration for other things, as many as constitute a good man; but the man is not to be blamed for these things.

45. And thus indeed the heavenly man appears to be, and for this reason seems to excel. Meditate on ^C the "prison," and become low in humility; and, reflecting that you are wholly enclosed, think according to such a man. But do not by any means fall into idleness from this point on, reflecting that, according to the contemplation of a moment ago, you are an athlete, and an "athletic" arena lies before you, where it is necessary for you to be energetic and to be seen as skillful. Be an athlete of this contest for the sake of the prizes in hope. Here it is necessary for you to leap even over the barriers and to excel, because it is also apostolic "to be in labors exceedingly." For thus you will cast down the adversary, who sits against the symmetries of the virtues, and, being of base excess, ^D he detests equalities. And may it happen to you to win, and to obtain the prizes of the martyrs, but do not be lifted up even so, nor be exalted by the not-to-be-praised uplifting and pride. For even if you be a fellow-guest with the richest giver of the feast according to the philosophy "in the upper room," yet this banquet is later, when the luxury and enjoyment stored up for the righteous shall be revealed.

46. Now also call to mind the marks according to God, the signs of being crucified, and the death, and above all the tomb, into which that contemplation of the column ended in imitation of life, whose life's limit is also the tomb. Have this as an object of memory, in which reason has placed you, and, so to speak, buried you. For although we who remain below behold you as one taken up, and already a heavenly man, yet we remind you that, even if you have fixed your head in heaven, you still walk upon the earth, O heaven-walker. And as you have been buried in this heaven in another way, we call out to you: "Ascend and finish your course"; not, however, as if you should remain and be a corpse, even if you are dead to the passions in another way, but that you may appear raised up according to a more divine pattern, and watchful for good works.

47. But so that, if the excellence of the column is likened to a tomb, we may again speak of it reverently in another way, let us consider it very accurately, as of those living according to God and the road to virtue

^A Many indeed are the modes of life and the paths of the journey are manifold, but the life according to the column appears the most manifest of all. For the life according to God is divided in two: into that which is simpler and habitual to the majority, and more civil and common, and into the other, which one might call either innovative, or extraordinary, or alienated. The former does not abound much in variety and singularity, whereas the latter is divided into many more novel forms.

48. A part of this life are those who, for the sake of Christ, who is Wisdom itself and whose understanding has no number, have renounced the wisdom and prudence that seem to be according to the age; of this life are the naked, who have cast off all care along with their clothing; of this life are those who have no concern for their hair, because it belongs to the abundance and softness according to the world; of this life are those who “lie on the ground” and are “unshod,” ^B about whom one of the wiser men has aptly unfolded, calling those who sleep on the ground those who nevertheless fly upward to the highest things; of this life are those who are covered in dirt and buried in this clay, so that by washing off the earthen image, they may become pure in heart; of this life are those who keep silence, either throughout their life or for as long as it may seem fit to them, and being, therefore, celebrated, they have exchanged the silence of this silence—not for being silent, but for being carried about with praises; of this life are the cave-dwellers, who reveal the depth of contemplation according to the spirit in this life; the iron-clad soldiers of God; of this life are those who live like trees, who are the summits of the tree of life, who blossom in virtues, the beautiful fruits of the spirit; then the column-dwellers, who endure the life according to us and set aside fictitious things for the brazen column reaching to heaven and the Atlantean statues; of this life (to leave the others to accomplish their own [deeds] according to the inspiration from God) are also those buried in asceticism. ^C

49. Furthermore, there is a triple manner of these: for some bury themselves entirely in the earth, thus approaching the name of burial (for is not the one who is underground almost buried?); others, while walking on the earth, shut themselves up in a very small lodging, manifesting that they too have been buried invisibly. The third is this lofty tomb: and he who is placed and indeed buried in it, surpasses the rest of the men of virtue, placing himself high upon it, and thus giving all to look up at him, so as to fall under the eyes of all, and to be hidden from no one, and thence showing himself to be most manifest and worthy of sight, not indeed as one to be concealed and kept in darkness, nor as a lamp hidden under a bushel, although in another way that column would want to hide the ascetic like a bushel—which it cannot do, for the brightness shines through and reveals the one enclosed. ^D

50. Therefore, such a man would reasonably strive to be, just as he appears, better than the rest, and not only of those habitual and more common [people] and the majority who tread the road of virtue, but even of all those who offer to those who chance upon them a spectacle both unusual and, as was said above, singular. For he will not entirely deny being...

wise according to God and prudent, in that he exercises himself in this way and has chosen the better part. Nor would he who reveals himself in this manner choose to humble himself to such a point that he appears a fool, and he will strive to surpass the naked man, so that the latter might not boast of having stripped himself for the contest he contemplates, and of being difficult to grasp by the adversary, and of following in the footsteps of the virtuous Joseph, who, having been stripped of the garment, was clothed in temperance. But this man, having been clothed with the [*] pillar [*] and covered with garments, does not possess the dignity of the one who is naked. Therefore, the [*] stylite [*] will strive to demonstrate his own nakedness most clearly through poverty, and through not playing the master on the [*] pillar, [*] but rather being imprisoned like a condemned man and living like those who endure severe hardship. And the same man will also refute those who are hairy and neglect their hair, as if it were no great thing if someone despises the growth of hair and, without effort, allows the human flesh to grow thick, and does not oppose the fact that it grows of its own accord. For better than this is truly the stripping away that pertains to this life, and the contempt for earthly things, through which the possession of heavenly things, sought with much effort, succeeds in its desired end; an example of which is the standing on the column on high—the very thing which we acknowledge to be the prize of victory of Him who descended from above, so that He might draw all men to Himself; which he who is exalted ^B upon the [*] pillar [*] accomplishes more earnestly, struggling to lift up not only with his soul, but also to lift up his body.

51. Sleeping on the ground and unwashed feet and the filth upon the entire ^C body are fine things, which some are even said to be marked by, and they are designated and proclaimed by such lives. But this man, who is buried, can say that he does not walk through the crossroads, dragging filth from them, and that he has a way of sleeping on the ground that is more excellent, remaining perpetually buried. I would not deem it worthy for the one who stands on the [*] pillar [*] to keep silent, but rather that he should excel even those men who have such a desire, for he who stands on the [*] pillar [*] must also be a teacher. For what use will he be to this life, keeping himself apart from below and not even revealing his life from above? And in another way, the [*] pillar [*] must be interpreted as a type of teacher’s platform or dais, upon which the [*] stylite, [*] standing upright, will pour forth good words. He will thunder divine things from on high and will send down his teaching to those listening below, so that he himself, as in a [*] pillar of cloud, [*] of this seen, lofty retreat, may be said to speak to them. For in another way, too, the [*] stylite [*] seems to have set himself to this in the likeness of the first and greatest teacher, the Savior Christ. For He, when the time was right, withdrew to the sea, so that He might teach the crowds at leisure outside the pressure of the press; and this man too, withdrawing himself from the worldly ^D crowd, keeps to himself for the sake of the unhindered nature of his teaching, which has now also become famous. And thus, the [*] stylite [*] will do well to look down upon those who are silent, yet he will guard against Pharisaical boastfulness and speaking loftily for the sake of preeminence, lest he hear from somewhere: “Be silent, be muzzled.”

52. Being shut up in a cave is common, so what of the stylite?

^A For the cave covers the ascetic within, so that he possesses virtue without witnesses, and such a one verifies the saying, "Live unnoticed." But to go unnoticed obscures the light of life as it passes through this place. The stylite, however, is superior to the dweller in the caves, as he transmits useful things to a greater number of people. And having many witnesses of his life, he cannot fall into the error of an unexamined path of life. These very things, moreover, cause the “clod-dwellers” to draw closer to the cave-dwellers, and they are established as more lowly than the stylites. But those who are girded with iron, desiring to manifest themselves to the world, and changing place after place, and publicly displaying their iron bonds—even they themselves would have nothing greater than the stylite, because of their theatricality and the fact that they are not entirely free from the desire to show off. For the stylite himself, having hidden himself away like a bee, works in secret to produce the honey of virtue, participating in which, as many as wish to extract the honey acquire an ineffable sweetness.

53. For the same purpose, those who are “on the trees” and “those who are in the open air on the columns,” ^B even if they arrive at the same state by the similarity of their elevation, still in some respects remain inferior to those who dwell on the top of a column. For these latter of necessity do not go unnoticed, being exposed as a spectacle—a quasi-inevitable way—to those looking up. Whence a long beatitude accrues to them, and all admiration is compared to the complete exposition before the eyes. Many praises are bestowed upon such a man. But the upright stylite, no one would notice, not even if he is alive; whence he is for the most part bereft of being praised, because he is observed by few. For there, he makes God his debtor in his own favor, He who sees in secret and rewards in the open. ^C

54. Perhaps, too, it will be suspected by some regarding those who are “tree-tended” and “snow-covered” that the entire good of the lofty struggle is not voluntary, and that the whole action is not from the heart’s intention; for they blush if, when seen by all, they do not perform the good, but rather move in a direction opposite to their profession; at which time there will also be fear for many, lest such men receive their reward here. Or this, indeed, does not befit good men, but those having the practice of asceticism hypocritically. We, however, are not now considering such “tree-dwellers” and “pillar-dwellers,” since even the stylite, if he were suspected of doing good to please men and as a miracle for the, eyes (which is not even examined, because he is not looked upon without labor), he is nevertheless suspected—by way of another manner—by ^D suspicious men, who allow themselves the ease of conceiving that there is some relaxation even inside the “pillar.”

55. But these things, which cause many to stumble, must thus be cast out from these spiritual men. It will, however, still be a difference for them, in that those others enjoy the air directly to their fill, and commune with the sun, even if it is in the open air; but he has even the sun measured out to him, as though through a chimney-vent, or otherwise as if from a watchtower

that he may contemplate the divine rays more subtly and accurately, or as if having found that spiritual hole in the rock, he does not only behold the posterior parts of God, but also gazes upon Him face to face. And some indeed count it a privilege to be seen living; but he hides himself, as though blushing before witnesses; becoming wholly absorbed in the concealment of his dwelling, he obscures the visible part of the column's arrangement, made humble, for he is buried within it.

56. But if the cold of the night and the heat of the day are cast upon me in these places, let one consider the narrowness of the small dwelling, the contracted and confined opening; and having made the comparison, let him not, thinking it over, attribute to the Stylite a condition ^B inferior and too humble relative to what is just. He that is enclosed has raised himself far above the rest of those who dwell on the earth, in the elevation of his life as much as in his lodging. For he who is below is in the company of those inhabiting the earth, and has his consolations, if I may say so, at hand, whenever he chances upon the need of anyone, and is more humane; but the Stylite is far from men, and what he has sought comes up to him only tardily.

57. But let this suffice for now. For one may proceed further and give himself more fully to individual points. But if one should wish, in a more penetrating and limitless manner, to extol the life of the Stylite over every other life and to show it as necessarily exalted above all others, he will say that for every person living according to virtue, especially the Stylite, the battle ^C against base desires is difficult. For those who dwell on high, far from the earth, cannot approach those things in which they might delight, even when they most wish to. And this removes a great part of the worthlessness, nor does license remain for the senses to be more easily expanded by the doors of the passions to overly rash desires. Nor does the enervating luxury, which those living in carnal delights possess, reach him who dwells on high; nor does any other vile thing create juvenile affections in his hearing, such as might be able to burst into him without effort. Nor can the allurements of smell easily draw him, happening upon him by chance and, as they say, ^D dragged in through the nostrils, nor do the rest of the allurements of the senses prevail in plotting against him who has established his house on high, and removed himself from inferior perturbation, and has removed himself from amusements, and is no longer of the earth (for he stands above it), nor of the air (for it is dense), but is partaker of nature only in a small degree, and in so far as it is holy to live according to the flesh. But thus, indeed, the true Stylite presents to our eyes a venerable thing. And if he should have a complication of another life that is unusual, whether of a single one, so that the beauty is twofold, or of several ways of life, the beauty will thus be composite of many things, then a series of virtues and good works, and a gathering together of things stored up, and as in an inaccessible treasure house, the station in the column.

58. See then, you too, O elevated man, you have this form of the newer life, and iron around you is befitting and venerable, for it always carries the nature of its own burden. For it weighs heavily upon the ascetic and, from patience in enduring labors,

^A abducts him. It was not, therefore, for ^B him to bend his knee frequently while unarmed. You must, therefore, fulfill this yourself by breaking your pride, casting your earthly wisdom to the ground, and consecrating the prostration of your soul through the bending and contrition of your knees. For if this pillar is a symbol of exaltation and ascension, it is certainly a symbol of submission to God, and not to anything else, whatever anyone may say of it.

59. But listeners, as soon as I mentioned the symbol, a certain logical reasoning came to mind, as if it were a conclusion newly deduced, and not without elegance. For the science of symbols is divided into three parts. Thus, some remain in the symbols themselves, proceeding no further, and not returning from the sensible image to the intelligible archetype; such is the Jewish nation, who sit in the shadow, unwilling to look upon the sun of truth. For example, when ordered to abstain from eating the hare, the Jew does not draw back the veil of the symbol and contemplate the shining pearl within it, but, pursuing the rabbit from afar, he no longer investigates the meaning of the letter, nor does he recognize from it what it might provide as a symbolic lesson; he does not flee the indifferent lubricity that dominates in that animal, nor does he consider the distinction of its cloven foot, which is far removed from simplicity and which holy prudence and fear have no need of. Thus, these men float on the surface of symbols and do not seek after anything more profound. Some, however, study the letter of the symbol little or not at all, but leaving the outward trumpet to those who wish to sound it, they themselves grasp only the truth hidden in the riddle, practicing wisdom (the Christian tribe); and being strenuously exercised in good, and not dividing their path of life into deceits and frauds, they allow the hares forbidden in the law to come to them, and thus, picking out the marrow of the symbolic letter, they do not fix their attention on the letter so much as on its ^C immortal reality. And thus these men, caring little for the thickness of symbols, finely cut and dissect the letter therein, and attain to the inward contemplation. Others, however, keep both by their observance, maintaining the symbol and the thing of which it is the symbol.

60. We have been commanded, therefore, in our morning races, to hallow our worship to the King of kings, God, as the sun rises. This is a symbolic husk. We believe, indeed, that this same King is the Sun of righteousness for us, if we look toward Him and, knowing Him as God, approach Him in worship, bowing our head and our knee. This is the fruit of the symbol; and we keep both, worshipping where we have been commanded and holding fast the purpose of what is done. Thus also with that which says: "Wash yourselves, be clean," hearing this and being ordered to put on a clean festival garment, we perform the washing, which is indeed sensible and involves the change of visible clothing, but we also keep our spiritual selves clean, purifying both those things that are within and those that are without. ^D

^A

61. But that we may also draw into this contemplation some of the things newly seen, we all know what kind of breastplate the great Paul bids us wear; but this Stylite ^B of ours bears also the one perceived by sense, keeping both absolutely, for he surely does not keep only one. These things, then, are set forth symbolically, and are devised both in action and in spirit.

62. But if it be necessary to mix something sweet and our own, which is not of such a kind, but yet not altogether unacceptable to those who are guests and fond of hearing, many of the external symbols have their place in such an account. To "not eat the heart," then, was once a symbolic saying; and he who heard it at that time would do so (for he would abstain from heart-eating), while also keeping the inner instruction that was made manifest. And this was, not to deliver oneself over to sorrows and so, being consumed within, to waste away. Again, one heard, "With a sword, do not stir up fire," or, "Do not foster a white cock at home": that is, not to kindle ^C glowing anger with provocative and exasperating—and, so to speak, cutting—words, and not to use in the house noisy servants who bring forward, from within, dark and mysterious counsel. Both these things they did, and they did not evade the symbols, nay, they became primarily addicted to the letter of the symbol.

63. And that I may not, by having many things yet to say, prolong and weary the hearers, such are the three symbolic parts: the keeping of the symbol by itself, or, to say the same thing otherwise, the identity of the enigma; the assumption of the letter ^D symbolically in itself, and the use of both together. To the third division belongs the purpose of the column. For the symbol itself is found to be one of elevation and height. The Stylite, having wiped away the precision of figural contemplation, will always be in the place above, and will treat it in a way of stretching up more divinely, as if into heaven, and being elevated on high, and ascending to that which is beyond all. Not, however, that he stretches himself up otherwise, or is high-minded, or—as it were—upon the tips of his toes (for that is a small thing), but rather that he walks as if upon heaven in his purpose, and from thence deems nothing of those who are according to him. For if one is to be despised, it is not men, O brother, neither those who live the same life, nor the rest; but the things around the earth are to be despised—those which you have left behind, those to which you have said farewell, those from which you have withdrawn.

64. And reflect also upon the column, as one that lifts up, and reflect also upon the iron that weighs down below. Let that be a symbol of the mind set on things above; and think in this way. But the iron is of humility; and cast yourself down in this way, not so as to crawl upon the earth in thoughts according to the flesh, lest perhaps someone might not ineptly mock you, as if the ascetic iron, like a magnet, were to drag the things of this life to itself. This column is illustrious, not because it is high (for what is great about that which by nature stands out?), but because, according to meditations upon high things, it lifts up and leads toward God. And the pyramids in Egypt, famous in history, [are] costly and long-shadowed because of [their] height; and the observatory of Eudoxus at Cnidus, whence he observed the stars; and the hanging gardens of Babylon, and

the foolish vanity of the Colossus of Rhodes standing in much bronze, and whatever else the ancients considered worthy of a spectacle; all these, as people say, are prodigies for the foolish. But to us who think according to God, and who meditate in our minds on a few such things, the great prodigy is the high-crowned summit of the pillar, not because it rises up to a great length, but because it lifts up that which is burdened below and earthly, and leads it on high to God Himself, as if it were a celestial elevation.

65. It behoves the ascetic, therefore, to give back something himself to such a ^B pillar, so that here grace may beget grace, and just as the pillar lifts him on high and elevates him for veneration, so, in return, the pillar may be repaid by him in the place of recompense. And this will happen if the ascetic makes the place famous through good works in a continuous succession, so that, with equal zeal, another like him may follow after him, and again after him a third, and thus they may ascend this pillar perpetually. What then do I say here? Become a second Elijah, O stylite, and when the time comes to be taken up, leave behind a disciple who is no stranger to the miraculous, so that he, having run the same course and become a participant of heaven, may in a similar way make the wonderful things illustrious, and thus that beautiful thing previously announced by this discourse may be lasting. For we do not doubt that we might traverse again the harvests of thoughts among the many, in which we surely contend that fruits abounding in ears of corn will sprout, which are delightful to the soul.

^C 66. But thus, in a simple and summary manner, has the discourse been devised concerning the pillar, as we have done according to our strength. But that which we see among us has something even more venerable, and from this it invites the ascetic standing upon it to a greater struggle. For it is not hidden anywhere so that it might be unknown or come to the knowledge of only a few. It is planted openly before this city, to which not only those who are noble by nature and in whom innate goodness shines, but also people from everywhere, betake themselves. And the ascetic who is here must, I might almost say, appear as a universally beautiful thing. Men of this land flow together here, not only those who are well-born, but also those of the other class, and not only those who are learned, but also those of the rest of life, and not only the sensible, ^D but also those who have fallen; to speak plainly, the whole race and men from everywhere. This stylite ought to hold himself out to all these, as is also required, and to say the whole thing, according to the Apostolic manner. For he will become all things to all men, that he might gain all for the glory of God. He will not flatter when it is not necessary, so that he may not traffic in the truth; nor, on the other hand, will he be savage toward everyone, lest he be accused of being ill-timed in his boldness; nor will he shower everyone with praises (for he would be a captor of souls if he did so); nor will he hail down injuries from that height (for such a disposition is beastly). Perhaps, indeed, he might say such a word that, by uttering it, he might put a famous man to shame, and already he would have condemnation as a master of blasphemy. But I truly know that he will not be deaf to gifts for those who are more fervent about the men around him, who, practiced in almsgiving, stretch out their hands to those whom they [consider] good.

offering the firstfruits of life to them as if they were tithing to God what they had acquired.

^B 67. Therefore, the stylobate shall not be a storehouse for such firstfruits or gifts, so that the stylite might not perchance conceive the idea of tearing down his storehouses to build larger ones, but rather he will pour out a full accumulation into another [receptacle] (I mean the bosom of the poor). And like a conduit, the rain of beneficence coming from God will flow in from there, and from there it will flow out and irrigate all those who are not growing fat in abundance, but are crushed by the hardships of poverty. I, for my part, did not wish for this ^B stylite to become cavernous, hollow, or void, nor to be a place or, as one might say, a city of a battlemented region, which we have already considered spiritually, nor to be perforated like a pipe, even if the discourse led him to such a contemplation in another way; but [I wanted him] to be full of himself throughout, and solid and complete, and to have nothing hollow, empty, or treacherous, so that he might imitate the things similar to him, the pillars and the trees, on which the ascetics who take their name from them [dwell], and [I did not want him] to widen out into some cavities and bellies; lest this hollow part should contain something, and a more bloated accumulation and [a] loss of apostolic [purity].

68. For what need is there for this man built into his station, especially since he is almost dead, and has thus condemned and punished himself? For if this ^C stylite is regarded as a tower, in which you stand as if in some watchtower, and yet also as a city, and indeed as a fortress, all of which are receptive and were appointed to contain something within—but those things are by a certain analogy. For what the tower is to the soldiers upon it, and the city to those who guard it sleeplessly, and the refuge to those appointed to protect it, that are the columns to the ascetics standing upon them. Truly, however, the column, according to the discourse at the beginning, supports, contains, and provides a seat for the one who stands upon it. But for it to be perforated and to have a deep cavity closed off by barriers, those who wish to find fault would not call [this] free of malice.

69. But the more curious might call such things "bee-hives," in which some sweet and nutritious ^D ascetic anthology is stored. Others, calling the column an "ant-hill" of good things, will humble the great man within it, as if he were an "ant-man"; but it would have been nobler to call him an "ant-lion," because it is better to perish from starvation, which is what is told of the ant-lion, than to live thus, that is, to gather into a granary in the manner of an ant. Some, comparing the hollow column to a bone emptied of marrow, imagine it to be filled not with such emptiness, but with a certain sweet marrow; and many compare it to a honey-bearing reed, which, being interrupted by joints just like the stalk with its knees, is filled, according to them, with sweetness. But very few will think of anything good: and thus the hollow space of the column will be full of curses.

^A 70.

To a certain Stylite.

71. For it is for you a type of the life we live, by which to regulate those who encounter you. There is a storm around it, waves around it, shipwrecks around it. And now indeed it is spread out, serene and softly settled, and it would not yield to a flowering meadow in pleasantness; yet again, behold, it bristles and is stirred up more harshly, and as if into the abysses of Hades it is plunged. Our life suffers such things, and those who sail through it have experienced them. Teach, therefore, your disciples from this not to trust themselves to an unstable, much-disturbed, and dangerous thing, this life, ^C but to attend to themselves, and to navigate with fear, and always to look out for the saving harbors. The sea plays with the shores at times; thus also life smiles pleasantly at times, while otherwise plotting in the depths and hiding its difficulties. But in dancing, as if in a chorus, gently washing the shores and gradually taking away as much as is sandy, the sea casts down not only houses, if any stand by the shore, but also the very headlands, and secretly brings on destruction, and in a hidden way crafts this land-based danger. In the same way, life too, to those whom it seems to treat pleasantly, is in quietness good, and in a way that no one would perceive, it allows them to play, while it grants them tears. Teach, therefore, those who talk with you these things also, that they may remain unshaken against the things that befall them.

^D 72. This great mass of water also contains solid places, some uninhabited (and let these be a symbol of men who possess nothing, who are indeed washed by the waves of life, being violently agitated and striking against them, yet they will not give way, nor will they change from standing firmly), and others inhabited. These signify men who are wealthy, suffering nothing terrible, who see the deep being agitated, surging, and tumultuously roaring around them; yet they themselves live in the manner of princes among men, and are not dislodged from the right foundation. For such firm places, pour out long prayers to God, that they may remain constant, established upon the rock, and never be moved from their good state. To the rest, however, provide...

^A teaching, how it is not altogether difficult for some to be in life, and tossed by the sea thereof, yet to be secure and to keep an unshakable standing. For even this earth-shaking sea has taken in many places, which, as it upheaves, it cannot disturb.

73. Propose also the patient Job here, and those who are like him (and they are numberless) ^B as a testimony to your discourse. Before your eyes also lie the various fishermen, and from them you must take a likeness, that from on high you may cast the line of teaching, and fish for men apostolically, and draw forth from the saltiness of life tasty fish: those who carry the evangelical stater for the payment of the didrachma, and whom I might call fatter, who enjoy the fatness of life and are fit to be preserved with salt, and who warm the flesh—inasmuch as they provoke the moisture of the flesh to temperance and dryness.

74. The sea roars, and leaps upon its neighbor; it wishes to run down to the end, but it is restrained from its madness, and turns back upon itself—reverent—and learns not to overstep the set boundaries. Set this point of instruction against those who wish to seize the goods of their neighbors, and to mark out boundaries, and like an ulcer or insatiable hunger to covet what belongs to others. The sea is salty, yet from it is drawn abundant drinkable water. Teach many that all men can be good, and become sweet and potable in the uses of life, and yet, also, bitingly bitter and inaccessible. And here remind them how the lion is said ^C to be rapacious and roaring; but we also know how honey once came forth from the devourer. And the discourses of Greek wisdom: some led many to ruin, others to the opposite; and, to speak generally, just so, and in this way, every man can act according to a contrary disposition.

75. Consider also the sea foam: it is nothing, but perhaps the rebounding of a certain subtle spirit, which brings what appears diaphanous to a snowy white; apply this to the threats in life of those who are capable of no good; and teach that they are nothing but a spirit floating and airy, so that they have no power to move those who are firm, and to lead them away from their steadfast standing or their endurance.

76. The sea composed of sense-perception has pirates, but life has far more piratical dangers. ^D Therefore, rule your children according to the Spirit, either showing them a way of escape, or, if they have already fallen, teaching them to pay the uttermost farthing, and so remain outside the designs of the pirates and lead a calm life.

77. The sea we see also nourishes animals, that do not produce a voice, yet are edible; and of these, some have been created more manly and aggressive, while others are subjected to the guile of such as these. Life also has a rapacious and voracious element, yet it is also mute, having nothing just to say, but laboring at impossibilities, and drawing those who fall into the belly of ruin.

^A That demon alone, which you have mentioned as indicating something, you have overlooked, being held by one much stronger. Speak to me of things that make better, when I am in such a state. For if I have chanced to occupy the place of a teacher, yet I would not hesitate to be taught by you, when you have something to say, as one who is above all those who teach me. I have understood that it is possible to be an old disciple, mocked and knowing nothing, but in matters of justice, rustic and, so to speak, illiterate.

78. Tyrannically they dominate the visible sea, such as the wild beasts, the huge whales; if they happen to rush hither and thither, they devastate the sea they traverse. The ocean of life also has its beasts, the barbarous nations, the hostile ones, the men of blood, the enemies of God. ^B With much greater reason, therefore, offer your prayers here, so that the great fisherman, the divinely inspired king of the inhabited world, who casts his spiritual, unbreakable net most skillfully, and fishes for God, and draws to the shore as many as are edible according to the faith, may strike with a sure blow against such creatures, with the spiritual trident, in the strength of the power of the most High who judges in a threefold manner, in due season, and cast some away as dead, and drive others into places where the Lord does not watch. For he is accustomed to such things, and his hand is practiced in myriad such hunts, such as the recent one, in which the beasts of Hagar were gathered together at the same time, roaring wildly, and seeking to snatch, or rather, having already opened their mouths wide and wishing to fix their murderous teeth into the flock of God; and he himself, having run up quickly, like a heavy nightmare to those who are slumbering, appeared to them as a bad dream, and struck down those into a sleep from which they are not awakened. I refer to the recent trophies won around the city once celebrated by the ancients, which the hero of history, Claudius, named after himself. But as for that one, it died long ago, having suffered ruin, and having long since been torn apart by the hands of the Barbarians. ^C The royal virtue now restores the name of its former master and awakens its glory, so that that resurrection from the dead may renew the miracles before our miracle-working ruler; and especially to the places, he will give the great trophy, named after him who now, from the beginning, causes it to rise anew.

79. And this, indeed, happens to have been said by me thus far, because it is not fitting to regard matters of great importance as trivial. But you, ^D who look out from the pillar, surveying with the eyes of the mind the sea before you, fix in your soul this tower, which, like a rock, has been cast up here against the life-waves, not so as to strike those who are sailing and shatter them miserably, but so that they may fasten there the anchors of hope and thus be saved. Guard, therefore, that saving anchor, mindful that it is erected for such hopes. You know the work, and how it has been labored at; you know the director of the work, who serves the king, but is an arbiter of equal status, carrying the yoke of justice to such a degree that you would have nothing from which to accuse him. You know with what love he embraces you, being persuaded that it will turn out for his own benefit. Do not, therefore, reject such great hopes, nor cast away the glory set before you. Do not, ascending Father,