ORATION XXVI. ON HIMSELF.
A ... that there be no grapes. You see how great this collection is; and for this reason, strive to make the threshing floor more abundant for us, and the winepress more full. Tell also of our calling, and our incredible journey, which we undertook not to enjoy luxury and delights, but so that we might be companions in misfortune; that having shared in the hardships and the bitterness, we might also one day come to share in the glory. You have this people, favorable in their prayers, this companion of our journey; this flock, I say, narrow indeed in number, but not at all narrow in piety: whose narrowness I revere more than the amplitude and breadth of others. B These things says the Holy Spirit: with this you shall pass through fire, and quiet the rage of wild beasts, and render rulers mild and gentle. Thus depart, thus set out, and return to us again, extraordinarily rich, a second time crowned with laurels, and hereafter singing with us the song of victory, now and in the time to come in Christ Jesus, our Lord, to whom is the glory for ever. Amen.
ADMONITION ON ORATION XXVI.
I. The designs of Maximus, whom we saw publicly praised by Gregory in the preceding oration, did not remain hidden for long. Soon the fire erupted from the ashes, and "that Egyptian specter," as Gregory calls him, too quickly produced the venomous "offspring of an asp." For, burning with envy and ambition, he was led to such impiety and audacity that he sought to transfer to himself the dignity of the Constantinopolitan see, once the legitimate pastor had been driven from the throne. Therefore, he first chose as his partner in crime one of the clergy of Gregory, who was equally a participant in the household, table, and intimate familiarity of the Theologian. Both ungrateful and factious men summoned from Egypt—or rather, bought with money—men who were seditious and ready for any crime. By their service, and with the addition of bishops sent by Peter of Alexandria himself, who might secretly consecrate Maximus, they invaded the church by night. These horrible things, though carried out until light, were not yet finished when they came to the notice of the clergy. As soon as these matters were publicized, the whole city roared with indignation. Magistrates, citizens, foreigners, and even the heretics themselves flocked to the church. Moved by unanimous indignation, they cast out the consecrated and the consecrators with the greatest shame and dishonor; nor did they become any wiser after such disgrace. For, persisting in their most wicked purpose, they entered the house of a certain flute-player and performed their unspeakable work.
II. Meanwhile, Gregory was suffering from a disease, not in the suburbs, as Billius and Baronius supposed, but in Constantinople, as is gathered from his *Poem on His Own Life*. When he heard the series of so many and such great crimes, suddenly struck with deep mental anguish, he considered flight; and he entered the sacred temple of Anastasia, as if to bid a final farewell to the entire Christian congregation. But moved by the constant prayers and tears of the whole flock, he finally promised that he would not leave. However, to restore his weakened mental and physical strength, he withdrew for a short time to a nearby villa, from where, not long after, he returned and delivered this oration. Baronius wrongly calls this an "Invective against Maximus." The learned man also conjectures that this is the very "book of vituperations" which Jerome mentions. But both the inscription itself and the purpose of the orator argue against this opinion. For this oration cannot be that book, in which Maximus is not even mentioned. We do not deny, however, that in several places here Maximius and his followers are incidentally and covertly indicated and lashed by Gregory; but it does not follow from this that this is the *Invective against Maximus*. And certainly, if the book of which Jerome speaks differs from those things which Gregory wrote against Maximus in his *Poem on His Own Life*, it is permissible to affirm that this [book] no longer exists, since no trace of that book survives anywhere.
III. Scholars assign this oration to approximately the middle of the year 380 at Constantinople. A wonderful love of the shepherd for his sheep displays itself from the very beginning. "I longed for you," he says (n. 1), "my sons, and I was sought for by you with an equal longing... For those whose spirit is common, their affection is also common... Wherefore I could not bear to be away from you any longer." Nor indeed did the sole motive of mutual love impel Gregory to a swift return. He still feared (n. 3) for his beloved flock, both the voracity of the "wolves" and the snares of the "thieves," and the madness of the "dogs," who had already, though with futile effort, burst in upon the shepherds and had attempted to seize, slaughter, or scatter the sheep. Then he demands from the flock a reckoning of faith and doctrine (n. 5); he demands not only "mutual" love, but also "interest"; nor only the "talent," but also the "gain of the talent"; lest perhaps anyone, with the talent buried and hidden in the earth, falsely accuse the creditor of being "hard and harsh." Hence he shows that faith without works is dead, and demands from his hearers whether they have diligently practiced good works; and having clearly discussed various duties of the Christian life, he himself also renders an account of all the things he has pondered while away. To achieve this, he places before his eyes a wide and magnificent model of the true philosopher, and the same theme which Chrysostom later treated in his oration, "No one is hurt except by himself (9)," he himself demonstrates admirably with words and examples.
ORATION XXVI
*In himself, when he had returned from the country, after the events perpetrated by Maximus.*A I. I longed for you, my sons, and I was sought for by you with an equal longing. For I have this conviction; and if it is necessary to interpose an oath on this matter, I swear, brothers, by your boast which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord. For the Holy Spirit, by whose power and inspiration we have come to you, has established this form of oath for me, so that we might prepare for the Lord a chosen and peculiar people. Consider the magnitude of the faith, I beseech you. For I convince myself, and I exert myself on your behalf. And this is nothing wonderful. For where the Spirit is common, the passion is also common; and to those for whom the suffering is equal, the belief is also equal. For he who has not felt something would not even believe another who asserts it; but he who has felt it is the more ready for agreement, an invisible witness of an invisible passion, a fitting mirror of a foreign form. B Therefore, I could not bear to be away from you any longer, although I otherwise bore these present circumstances with difficulty and a troubled mind; and not only those things which cities bring—namely the popular multitude, the tumults, the marketplace, the spectacles, the surfeits, the insults, those who lead and those who are led, those who fine and those who are fined, those who grieve and those who are grieved, those who weep, those who rejoice, those who marry, those who bury, those who are praised, those who are slandered, the fuel of wickedness, the dross of the world, and the rapid changes, just as in the Euripus and the winds—but also even these, now, which are more august and more precious, those around the sanctuary.
A Since we appear to hold the position of authority over these, and are in the number of those who approach God, I fear lest we approach unworthily, and, like stubble before a fire, be unable to endure the power of the fire.
II. However, I have returned to you; and though I had departed from you against my will, I have returned not against my will, but with a thoroughly eager spirit and with spontaneous feet—the Spirit, indeed, driving me on, like some river that is forced with difficulty along the ascent, but rolls with extreme speed along the downward paths and declines. B And truly, for those who labor with desire, even a single day is like an entire human life. For the case of the patriarch Jacob seems to me to be ordered differently: he, who in serving Laban the Syrian for fourteen years for the sake of his two daughters, was not in the least broken by labor. "For all those days," he says, "were to him as one day, because he loved them." Perhaps this was because the object of his desire was before his eyes, or because labor is light to love, even if the delay brings with it some pain. For it is thus ordered by nature: that we desire more sluggishly those things which we can enjoy easily and freely, as one of the ancients said. I myself, at any rate, while I was present, was barely perceiving the force of this affection; but when I was separated from you, I began to recognize desire—that sweet tyrant—and this is nothing new. C For if even a cowherd is so much grieved over one calf that has wandered from the herd, and a shepherd over one sheep missing from the ten, and a bird over the nest that it left for a short time, that the former, having taken up their pipes and ascended to some lookout, fill [the pipes] with sighs and call back, as if they were rational, those that have wandered off—and if they obey, they rejoice more than over all the others combined, for which they had no such concern—while the latter flies to the nest with a chirping sound, and falls upon its chicks, and cherishes them with its wings; how great, then, must be the affection of a good shepherd for his rational sheep, and especially for those for whose safety he has risked some danger, since he even adds this to the intensity of his love? D
III. For my part, I fear the heavy wolves, lest, observing our darkness, they should tear apart the flock with their rapacious and violent doctrines. For untimely...
A seasons are what they watch for, B lacking as they do the strength to act openly. I fear the thieves and robbers, lest, leaping over the sheepfold, they should either shamelessly despoil it, or steal by deceit, so as to sacrifice, and kill, and destroy, snatching away their plunder and devouring souls, as one of the prophets has said. I fear the window, lest someone, finding it unbarred, as was the case with some of our people yesterday or the day before, should enter then like one of us, only to plot against us like a stranger. For many and various are the stratagems of the one who works such things; and no architect of any varied art is as skilled a craftsman of wickedness as our adversary. Now, too, I am struck with fear by the dogs, who burst by force into the class of shepherds; and what is very absurd, they have contributed nothing at all to the administration of the pastoral office, except that they have shaven off the hair which they had shamefully taken pains to adorn and nourish; they have neither remained in the rank of dogs, nor have they become shepherds, except to tear, and scatter, and break down the labor of others. Since it is always easier to weaken and destroy than to preserve; and man is born for labor, as Job says, and a ship is built, and a house is constructed, but to kill, or to overthrow, or to set on fire, anyone can easily do. And therefore, let not those who have incited the dogs against the flock boast too insolently even now, for they cannot produce a single little sheep that they themselves have brought or preserved. For they have not learned to do good, while they have zealously cultivated wickedness. But if they disturb the flock, this is the same as a small storm can do, or a slight disease, or a beast suddenly rushing in. Let them, therefore, who boast in their own shame, stand; and having ceased from their wickedness, if they are able, let them worship, and fall down, and weep before the Lord who made them, and be joined to the flock, all those who are not entirely incurable. C IV. I am this timid and circumspect pastor, and for this reason, I am accused of caution as if it were cowardice. For I am not a pastor of the number of those who eat the milk, and clothe themselves with the wool, and slaughter the fat, and wear out the sheep with labor, or sell them, and say: Blessed be the Lord, for we have become rich; D who feed themselves, and not the sheep, if you remember the voices of the prophets by which they inveigh against evil shepherds; but I am of those rather who can say with Paul: Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is scandal
scandalized, and I burn not, and have concern? A For I do not seek what is yours, but you. And: I became scorched by the heat of the day, and by the frost of the night oppressed, as the voice of the shepherd-patriarch says, whose are those marked sheep, and those which learned to conceive—having meditated upon it—at the troughs thereof. Thus, then, and for these reasons did I come to you, and thus do they stand. But since I have arrived, let us give an account to one another of what we have accomplished in the interval. For it is good to think that we are required to render an account not only of word and action, but of every time, and of its very moment, instantaneous and most minute. Do you, therefore, report to me your labor, and I, in turn, will place in the midst that which I, in quietness communing with myself, have philosophized.
B V. What contemplation of sublime things, either received from me have you kept, or from yourselves have you brought forth, whether concerning theology or concerning the other doctrines which I have set before you many times and in many ways? For I seek not only the loan, but also the interest; not the talent only, but also the gain of the talent; lest someone, having hidden and buried that which was entrusted to him, should furthermore falsely blame the lender as hard and harsh, and covetous of others' goods. And what praiseworthy action have you brought forth—either so secretly that not even your left hand knows it, or even openly, so that your light may shine before men, C that from the fruit the tree may be shown, and the teacher may be known through his disciples, and someone of those who observe our ways (and they are many, some out of goodwill, others also out of curiosity) may say that God is truly in you, not only being preached soundly, but also being worshipped and adored? For just as action without faith is not acceptable (since many practice virtue for the sake of glory, or being so disposed by nature), so faith without works is dead. And let no one deceive you with empty words of those who readily concede all things to all men, for the sake of one thing—that they may embrace impious dogmas and pay a base wage D for a base matter. Show, therefore, your faith by your works, the fruitfulness of your land, lest we have sown in vain, or if there be among you a handful, from which flour might be made, and one worthy to be brought into the granary, so that we may cultivate you more readily for the future. Who brings forth the hundredfold fruit? Who the sixtyfold? Who finally the thirtyfold? Or who, conversely, having advanced from the thirty to the sixty (for we have this order also in the Gospels), has ended in the hundred; that advancing, as Isaac, he may become great, going from strength to strength, and singing the songs of the Steps, and placing ascents in his heart?
A
VI. For I seek fruit that flows unto your account. The profit is yours, not mine: though it is mine too, because it is yours, since the benefit reflects back from you to us, just as we see happens in the reflection of solar rays. Have you fed the poor? Have you shown hospitality? Have you washed the saints' feet? Even if you were indulging the belly which is destroyed, have you also done this, so as to have your delights set in the divine commandments? For indeed, no delights are better than these, nor more lasting or stable for those who wish to spend their life in delights. Have you, according to your means, refreshed some of those who serve the altar and are beautifully destitute (for allow me to say this), so that, with less distracted minds, they might more [devotedly] attend to the altar, and having become partakers of your goods, they might in turn confer their own upon you? It is surely shameful that we should have to ask for these things and you should not bestow them. Nor for this reason did I have this admonition, that it might be done unto me (for it is better for me to die than that my boasting should be made void, and the reward of the Gospel I have preached should perish for me, if I should reap the harvest of my labors here. For the preaching of the Gospel is of necessity; but munificence and praise lie in this, that we perform this office gratuitously); but [it is] that you might learn to do well by Christ, by doing so also to one of the little ones. For because He who took upon Himself for my sake all things that I am, sin excepted, in the same way also accepts the least things of mine unto Himself—whether you provide a roof for the poor, or visit one cast into chains, or go to the sick, or finally, what is the most trivial thing, if you soothe the tongue of a man oppressed by thirst with only a cold cup of water, which the rich man in the flame of torment begged for from the poor Lazarus, and for the pleasures and delights of this life, and for the contempt of the hungry and ulcerous Lazarus, he brought back this reward, that he begged Lazarus there and did not obtain his help. B
VII. These, then, are the things we require of you; and I know that it is not in the least a cause of shame to you that we ask for an account of your life, nor will it be, when you have to render it on that final day, to which all our affairs are gathered, according to the Jerusalemite [custom], to whom those who were appointed to sing hymns, as they ascended, used to sing these very songs. Now these songs treat of the ascent and return of the Jews from Babylon to Jerusalem. Whence, in a mystical sense, those who advance in virtue are said to sing the songs of the Steps. C D
the statement: "And I come to gather your counsels and your deeds, and, Lo, a man, and his work is with him." And as for our own affairs, what we bring to you from the desert—for Elias also willingly philosophized on Carmel, and John in the desert, and Jesus Himself was wont to assign His works to the crowds, but His prayers to the retreat and the deserts—what does He determine by this? As I think, that it is necessary to be quiet at times, so as to commune with God without disturbance, and to lead the mind back a little from those things that lead us astray. For He Himself had no need of retreat (for He, being God and filling all things, had nowhere to withdraw to), but [it was] that we might learn both the time for action and for higher occupation. What, then, is the fruit of my retreat? For I desire, like a good merchant who seeks profit from every source, to offer you some saleable goods from this [experience] as well.
B VIII. I was walking thus by myself, with the day already drawing to its close. The walk was along the shore; for I am accustomed to dissolving and relaxing my labors with such diversions, since a bowstring that is always kept taut cannot endure but needs to be loosened a little, if it is to be tightened again and not become useless to the archer, nor unhelpful at the moment of need. I was walking, therefore, and while my feet carried me forward, C my gaze was on the sea. But it was not a pleasant sight, although it is otherwise most pleasant when it is purple with calm and plays softly and gently upon the shores. But what then? (For I gladly use the words of Scripture): with a great wind blowing, it was stirred up and roared; and as for the waves, as is wont to happen in such movements, some, rising from afar and gradually reaching a crest, then diminishing, ended at the shore; others, falling upon the nearby rocks and being repelled, were scattered into frothy and fine spray. D There, pebbles and seaweed, and whelks, and the lightest of shellfish were pushed out and spat forth; and some were snatched away again as the wave receded. But the rocks, meanwhile, remained as unmoved and unshaken as if no force at all were being applied to them, save that they were beaten by the blows of the waves.
IX. From this I perceived that I had gained some benefit for philosophy, and (as I am accustomed to referring and directing all things to myself, and especially if I happen to encounter any of the things that occur)
I did not receive what was before my eyes in an offhand or negligent manner; rather, this spectacle resulted in instruction for me. For was I not saying, A “Is not our life and all human affairs like the sea?” (for there is much bitterness and instability even in this), and are not the temptations that beset us—and all unexpected things—like the winds? It seems to me that the most admirable David observed this too, saying, “Save me, O Lord, for the waters have entered unto my soul,” and, “Deliver me from the depths of the waters.” And again, “I have come into the depths of the sea, and a storm has overwhelmed me.” As for those being tempted, some appeared to me to be swept away and torn apart like objects most light and devoid of spirit, unable to withstand even the slightest impact of adverse circumstances; for they possess neither strength nor stability, nor the weight of a prudent and sensible mind that struggles against fortuitous events. Others, however, seemed to be like the rock—worthy of that Rock upon whom we stand and whom we worship—all those who use philosophical reasoning and, having risen above the lowliness of the many, bear all things with an unshaken and unyielding spirit. Those who are shaken by such things they either laugh at or pity (the former out of the nobility of a philosophical mind, the latter out of humanity and compassion). But they themselves judge it to be disgraceful to despise grave and harsh things when they are absent, or not even to consider them grave, and yet to succumb when they are present, B acting, as it were, as if these things were not fleeting but firm and stable; and to philosophize out of season, only to appear devoid of philosophy when there is need: just as if someone were to consider himself the most excellent of all athletes while never stepping down into the stadium, or a captain of distinguished repute were to boast magnificently of his skill in calm weather, only to let go of the rudders when a storm has arisen.
X. Since, then, I have once fallen into these remarks, I have proposed another image for myself, one highly appropriate to present circumstances. Perhaps you will take me for a delirious old man and a storyteller if I set this forth to you as well; I will set it forth, however, since11 Scriptures also are accustomed to use such examples for the clearer explanation of matters. There is a certain tree in myths which flourishes when it is cut and contends against the iron; and, if one must speak in a new way about a paradoxical thing, it lives by death, and by being cut it grows, and it increases by being consumed.
A Such is the fable and the autonomy of the creature; but to me it seems clear that the philosopher is something of this sort. He flourishes in his passions, and makes the painful things the material of virtue, and prides himself on the contrary things; neither being lifted up by the right-hand weapons of justice, nor bent by the left-hand ones; but he is the same, not always remaining in the same state, but being found even more approved, as gold in the furnace. Let us examine it thus: Is he of noble birth? He will set his probity of character against the splendor of his lineage, and will bring it forward to be looked upon from the opposite side. Thus he will be famous by a double title, namely, both by the images of his ancestors and by his own virtue being inspected. Is he born of an obscure and ignoble family, as far as the statue and the clay are concerned (if, indeed, there is any great difference between clay and clay)? He will bring forward in exchange the nobility that is understood, and which each person fashions for himself toward the worse or the better; but the other, which is merely sown or written, he will disregard as worthless and counterfeit. For there is a triple kind: the one, which has its origin from above, in which we are all equally noble, since we were created according to the B image of God 3; the second, which comes from blood—I do not know if anyone can be called noble by reason of this, since it is bound up with corruption; and the third, which is recognized by virtue or vice, of which we partake more or less, according as I think we either preserve the image or corrupt it. The one truly wise and philosopher will love this nobility. For as to the fourth kind of lineage, I will then deem it worthy of account, namely that in documents and decrees, when I might also admire beauty C in colors, and show respect to a monkey that has been ordered to be a lion.
XI. Is he young? He will act manfully against the passions, and will reap this advantage from youth, that he does not suffer the things of the young, but shows the prudence of an elder in a flourishing body; and he will rejoice in the victory more than those who are crowned at Olympia; for he will win in the common theater of the whole world, and a victory that is not bought. Does he incline toward old age? But he will not grow old in his soul; he will accept his dissolution as the appointed time of necessary freedom; he will happily move toward the things that follow this life, where there is no one immature, nor any old man, but all are perfect in spiritual age. Has he reached a time of life? D His beauty will shine in return with beauty, that of the soul with that of the body. Has the flower of his youth passed without being harmed? He inclines toward himself, and does not even know he is being looked at. Is he ugly in his outward appearance?
A But he is fair in what is hidden, like a blooming rose within its bud, which is not blooming to the eye, but is most fragrant. Is he fair in beauty beyond the sons of men? He does not even grant time for the exterior to be looked at, turning the spectator toward the inward man. Does he enjoy good health? He will use his health for the best; he will admonish, he will rebuke, he will speak boldly with words, he will keep watch, he will sleep on the ground, he will fast, he will mortify his flesh, he will contemplate earthly and heavenly things, and with all zeal he will practice dying. Does he suffer from illness? He will fight; and if he is overcome, he will win by having attained no longer to fight. Is he rich? He will make it his study to lessen his wealth; he will make the poor a participant in his goods, as a steward of another's property, so that the other may be helped by the reception, and he himself may be united to God, having nothing save the cross and his body. Is he poor? He will have God instead of riches, and he will mock the rich, as those who, although they increase their wealth daily, are yet always poor, because they are in need of more, and drink so that they may be inflamed with greater thirst.
XII. Is he vexed by hunger? B He will be fed with the birds, whose life is without sowing and ploughing; he will live with Elias at Zarephath. The cruse of oil shall not fail, and the jar of flour shall not diminish; the one will always spring forth, and the other will produce richly, so that the hospitable widow may be honored, and the one who nourishes may be nourished. Is he troubled by thirst? Fountains and rivers will supply him with drink, and indeed a drink that does not intoxicate, nor is it measured. But if all should fail due to extreme drought, perhaps a torrent’s water will quench his thirst. Will he be cold? This also happened to Paul; but for how long? There is also a covering of rock; let Job persuade you, using these words: "Because they lacked clothing, they were covered by the rock." Consider now the more perfect things. Will he be lacerated by curses? He will conquer by not answering curses with curses. Will he suffer persecution? He will endure. Will he be blasphemed? C He will entreat. Will he be oppressed by false accusations? He will pray. Will he be struck on the right cheek? He will offer the other also; if he had a third, he would have presented that too, that he might better teach his smiter to be long-suffering, instructing by deed what he could not by word. Will he be reproached? Christ also was. He will be honored by the communion of the passion. Even if he is called a Samaritan, even if he is accused of having a demon, he will accept everything with God. Many things will yet remain, even if he suffers many things—vinegar, gall, crown of thorns, reed scepter, purple robe, cross, nails, thieves crucified with him, D those passing by insulting. For one must possess God all the more, in that one is insulted more.
A XIII. Nothing is stronger than philosophy, nothing more impregnable. All things will yield before a philosopher gives in. He is a wild ass in the desert, as Job says, loose and free, laughing at the clamor of the city, not hearing the tax-collector's complaint. He is a unicorn, an animal living by its own laws. Will he wish to serve you? Will you tie him to a manger? Will he be led under a yoke? If he is barred from all the pleasures of earth, he has wings prepared for him like an eagle; he will betake himself to the house of his master; he will fly up to God. To sum it all up: these two things cannot be overcome, God and an angel; the third is the philosopher, immaterial in matter, uncircumscribed in a body, celestial on earth, indifferent to passions, in all things easily suffering himself to be overcome, except in greatness of soul, by the very fact that he allows himself to be overcome, he overcomes those who think themselves his superiors. And since B our discourse has depicted for us a philosopher—from which point I began—come, let us examine our own affairs by this standard (for I also deem myself to have the Spirit of God, even if I do not deny that I am vulnerable to some of the things that I have mentioned, and can be overcome by them); so that if those who are hostile to me and wage war against me find me interior, they may at least obtain pardon for their attempt, if not for their will; but if they find me more excellent and exalted than those who have decided to harass me with war, may they either depart from their wickedness or at least devise a newer way of injustice (for we despise the present one), and not be accused of folly along with wickedness, as lawless men C acting in vain, and not even knowing what they are striving to do, lest otherwise they incur the mark of madness and stupidity in addition to wickedness, as if they knew how to inflict injury, while they are applying themselves to it with the greatest zeal.
XIV. For what, I beseech you, can they actually harm me, once they have tried everything? Let us look at all the things by which a man can be injured by men. Will they call me unlearned? I know this one wisdom, which consists in the fear of God (For it is written: "The beginning of wisdom is the fear of the Lord; and the end of the discourse, hear the whole; fear God" [Prov. 1:7; Eccle. 12:13]. These are the words of that wisest Solomon. Let them therefore prove me devoid of fear, and they shall have conquered). D As for other wisdom and learning, I have partly passed them by, and partly I hope to take them up—and even, relying on the help of the Holy Spirit, I have hope. Will they throw poverty in my teeth, my veritable riches? For I would that I might be set free even from these rags, so that I might run naked and escape the thorns of life; would that I might also lay aside the heavy…
A garment as quickly as possible, that I might receive a lighter one. Will they call me an exile? How humbly do these men, truly insulting and hostile to strangers, think of us! For is my country restricted, O men, to one to whom the whole earth, and yet no land, is a fatherland? But are you not a guest and a sojourner? I do not commend your dwelling-place, if you are so minded, lest you fall away from the true fatherland, to which all the conversation of this life must be referred. Will you not reproach me with my old age and the infirmity of my health as a disgrace? But that you may understand something of my mysteries, this is not entirely the work of this corporeal mass and nature; my reason has also consumed something—for I am pleased to boast a little. Neither do you provide a pleasant spectacle for me, being so vigorous and corpulent. And I would that some grayness and pallor had also been poured upon you, that you might at least gather some belief and reputation for prudence and philosophy.
XV. What besides? Will they abolish the episcopate and cast me from the thrones? And from which ones, pray, did I ever ascend with a ready and cheerful mind, either now or before? Or am I accustomed to proclaim those who ascend as blessed? B Do you make them agreeable and pleasant to me, by ascending so unworthily? What? Did not even those things which happened recently declare my mind to you? Or were those things also a sort of delight and a joke, and a testing of your love and desire for me? Crafty men are easily led to suspect and to speak of others the vices that belong to themselves. But what of that oppression? What of those imprecations which we have publicly composed against ourselves? What of those tears, which moved even you to mercy, although otherwise, on account of the struggle, we were almost hated? Will they take away from us the dignity of the primary seat? Who, gifted with any sense, has ever admired this? But now, as it seems to me, he is most prudent, whoever flees it. For because of this, all our affairs are tossed and shaken; because of this, the ends of the earth are ablaze with suspicion and war, and that, too, with an obscure and ignoble one; because of this, there is a danger that we who were created by God might be subjected to men, and lose that great and new name. C Would that there were not even any primacy of a seat, nor any preference of place, and tyrannical prerogative! That we might be known by virtue alone. But now this right, and left, and middle side, and the higher and lower rank, and to walk in front, and to walk together, have produced many collisions for us in vain, and have pushed many into the pit, and led them away to the region of the goats; not only of the common people, but also of the shepherds, who, though they were masters of Israel, were ignorant of these things.
XVI. What then? Will they keep me from the altars? But I know another altar, of which the things we now see with our eyes are the figures: upon which no chisel, nor hand, nor iron, nor any instrument of D craftsmen has ascended or been heard of, or any other thing.
A Migne's own rendering of the text, but the whole work is of the mind, and by it we are raised up through contemplation. At this altar I shall stand, and upon it I shall offer acceptable things: a sacrifice and an oblation and whole burnt-offerings, better than those now offered, as much as the truth is better than the shadow. Concerning which it seems to me that the great David also philosophizes, saying: *And I will go in unto the altar of God, of Him who gladdens my spiritual youth* (Ps. XLII, 4). From this altar, no one who wishes to do so shall drive me away. Will they drive me out of the city? But not also from the one which is laid up in heaven. If those who hate us could accomplish this, they would indeed be waging war on us; but as long as they cannot do this, they are merely pelting me with drops of water, or striking me with the winds, or playing with dreams; for this is how I interpret their war. Will they take away my money? Whose? If it is my own, B let them also at the same time cut off the wings, which I have not put on. But if it is the money of the Church, this is the very thing for which the whole war is being waged. It is for this money that the thief, in his jealousy for the purse, betrays God for thirty pieces of silver—the most terrible thing of all. For it is for that sum that a man is worthy, not he who is being betrayed, but he who is betraying.
[XVII.] Will they exclude me from a house? Will they cut off my luxuries? Will they alienate my friends? Indeed, as you see, we have burdened quite a few [people], even though they were the ones who invited us (for we shall not be ungrateful). But if we have burdened them, it was rather by sparing them than by receiving from them. And if you seek the cause of this, a certain pious and God-loving house gave us rest, just like the house of the Shunammite [gave rest] C to Elisha,—a house related to me in body, related in spirit, and in every way generous; among whom this people also was established, yet stealthily clutching at the persecuted piety, not without fear nor without danger. May the Lord repay him on the day of retribution! But if we sought luxury, may those who hate us enjoy luxury at our expense; for I shall not pray for any other greater thing upon myself. As for my friends—some, I know well, will flee from us, even if not harmed (for they show themselves to be companions in suffering, who are afflicted by the same injustice); but the arrogance and contempt of others toward us, we have already, by long use, learned to bear with a calm mind. For of my friends and neighbors, D some have even openly drawn near and stood against me; while others, in the most humane fashion, have stood afar off, and in this night all have been offended. Peter even nearly denied me; and perhaps he does not even weep bitterly, so as to heal his sin.
A XVIII. I alone am bold, it seems, and full of temerity; alone I am of good hope in fearful things; alone I am steadfast, both set forth publicly and despised in private, and known to the East and West by the wars which are waged against me. O, the madness! If a camp should be set in array against me, my heart shall not fear; if war should rise up against me, in this I have hope. I am so far from considering any of the present things bitter or fearful, that, leaving myself aside, I lament those who have caused me trouble. O members of Christ once, members dear to me, although now corrupt, members of this flock which you betrayed while it was yet small, and even before you were gathered together. How have you been torn asunder, and how have you torn others, like tender calves let loose from their bonds? How have you raised altar against altar? How have you suddenly become a desolation and a waste? How have you yourselves been put to death by this division, and branded us with sorrow? How have you abused the simplicity of the shepherds for the dissolution and destruction of the flock? For I will not blame them for their inexperience, but I will accuse your wickedness. O Israel, who shall help thy corruption? What medicine can I find that has the power to form a scar? With what bandage shall I bind the wound? How shall I join the separated parts? By what tears, with what words, with what prayers shall I heal this breach? Or perhaps in this way?
C XIX. O holy, and adorable, and perfect Trinity, who art rightly joined to us and religiously worshipped, this is Thy work, Thine is the glory of accomplishing this matter. Oh that Thou mightest restore these men to us, who have until now been separated from us, that by this very separation they might be instructed towards concord and the desire for peace; and that Thou mightest render to us heavenly and unshakable goods in exchange for the toils and miseries of this life, and free from every dissension. But the primary and greatest thing for them is, that being illuminated by Thee more purely and more fully, we may know how Thou, being the same, art understood as Unity and found as Trinity; how the Unbegotten, and the Begotten, and the Proceeding, are one nature, three properties, One God, who art over all, and through all, and in us all; who art neither D placed in a higher nor lower rank, nor dost Thou decrease, nor dost Thou admit of division; Thou who art in part now apprehended, in part sought after, and sometimes, perhaps, shalt be perceived as great as Thou art, by those who have rightly sought Thee in this world through a life of integrity and contemplation: to whom be all glory, honor, and power unto the ages. Amen.