Against the Opponents of the Monastic Life

MONITUM ON THE THREE FOLLOWING TREATISES

It is a well-examined matter that these three treatises, which are now in question, should be placed among the earlier fruits of our Chrysostom; and it seems no less conspicuous that they were published before he was chosen as a presbyter. It is necessary now to establish the year. It is quite certain that Chrysostom was induced by a friend to perform this task when, by the public authority of the magistrates, the monks were suffering extreme hardships, being violently abducted from their seats and cells, dragged into the forum, beaten, and thrust into prison. Furthermore, this dire vexation of the monks, having occurred so openly by the decree of the prince, seems to be attributable only to the time of the Emperor Valens, who, having fallen into the heresy of the Arians, raged against all Catholics. But with the death of his brother Valentinian, a pious and Catholic prince, since nothing further retarded his mind from being hostile toward holy men, he proceeded to such a point of madness that he ordered all monks to be expelled from their seats and drafted into the military. Valentinian died in the year of our Lord 374, and thus these three books of the holy doctor can fit the year 375 or 376. However, the illustrious Tillemont thinks that this rationale of chronology can be attacked with several arguments. For, he says, the first book was published when it was still permitted to sacrifice to demons; but in the last years of Valentinian and Valens, such sacrifices were prohibited by these same emperors, whence it follows that Chrysostom wrote these before the year 374, in which Valentinian died, or at the latest in that very year 374. Another difficulty emerges, he says, from the words of Chrysostom, who says that this vexation of the monks was introduced under pious emperors, ^A εὐσεβῶν, which praise surely seems unable to fit Valens, an Arian emperor hostile to the Catholics. Finally, what seems a far graver difficulty, he says, is when Chrysostom, regarding the curbing of the morals of children, introduces Paul admonishing parents with these words: *Fathers, educate your children in the discipline and correction of the Lord* (a), and proceeds thus: *For if we are commanded to watch over their souls as those who must render an account, much more the father, who begat, who educated, who always remains with them at home*; if indeed this Chrysostom speaks from himself and in his own person, it was necessary that he at least have been a presbyter, who would be accountable for rendering an account for souls; but if it be said that Chrysostom here speaks in the person of Paul, necessary it is that a great force of reasoning be brought in: however, whatever that force may be, Tillemont prefers to admit it rather than to believe that Chrysostom was a presbyter at that time. (a) Eph. VI, 4.

But to me these arguments seem entirely light: for as to what is brought forward first, that the first book was written when it was still permitted to sacrifice to demons, this relies upon one passage, no. 2, where concerning the agitators of the monks these things are read: *But what, if you learn things even more wonderful than these, that the authors of these things wish to appear pious, and call themselves Christians, and many of them are even initiated; nay, some of them, with the devil vehemently breathing into them, dared to say with their accursed tongue that they would depart from the faith and offer sacrifices to demons: for they were being suffocated seeing men who were free, noble, and possessing a life full of delights, being led to this hard manner of life.* I do not see, however, what can be inferred from the statement of such a furious man, who, as is argued from the sequence, boasts that he will do those things which he was in no way about to do, merely in the manner of one making threats: unless perhaps when we hear certain desperate men vowing themselves to demons, we might thence argue that this is permitted by public laws. Otherwise, when emperors issued certain laws, they did not immediately prevail everywhere and in all parts of the empire: and often it was necessary that provision be made for the firmness of a prior law by a new law, as you may often see in the Theodosian Code. Furthermore, concerning that which is said, that the word ^B εὐσεβὴς does not befit Emperor Valens, who was openly an Arian, Chrysostom attributes more—even than he does to the emperors of that time—in the first book, no. 2, where he says: *Our (emperors) desire and wish for things entirely contrary, as I myself persuade myself. Wherefore I am filled with great astonishment that you say that among emperors who pursue a pious religion, ^C ἐν εὐσεβείᾳ ζώντων, this cannot be done with impunity even in the middle of cities:* and in the second book, no. 9: *Nor think that these things happen because the emperors practice a pious religion, ^D βασιλέων ὄντων εὐσεβῶν: for even if the empire should fall, and those ruling should lapse into infidelity:* I would wish you to note here and elsewhere frequently in Chrysostom,

εὐσεβῶν

ἐν εὐσεβείᾳ ζώντων

ἐν εὐσεβείᾳ ζώντας

ὄντων εὐσεβῶν

εὐσεβεῖς

εὐσεβῆ

AGAINST THOSE WHO OPPOSE THE MONASTIC LIFE

^A When the Hebrews, having returned from their long captivity, desired to raise up the temple in Jerusalem which for many years had lain leveled to the ground, certain barbarian and inhuman men, neither fearing God, to whom they had raised the temple, nor moved by that human catastrophe from which their victims had only lately and with difficulty recovered, nor restrained by the fear of the punishment divinely ordained for such wicked deeds, first endeavored by themselves to stop the builders. When they accomplished nothing, they sent letters to their king, slandering that city as being rebellious, fond of innovation, and warlike, and persuaded him to grant them the power to prevent the construction. Having obtained this authority, they attacked the men with a large force of cavalry and forced the work to be interrupted for a time. Exulting in this victory, over which they should have mourned, they imagined that this was the end of their machinations. But this was merely the prelude and beginning of the evils that were soon to overwhelm them. For the work was completed and attained a most glorious end. Then they learned, and through them everyone else learned, that they were not fighting against men—not against a Mithridates or anyone else who might oppose men setting out to do something good—but rather against God Himself, by whom through them honor was being paid. But he who declares war on God can never have a successful outcome in that war; indeed, at the beginning of his wicked act he may perhaps suffer no harm—if he does not suffer, it is because God is calling him to repentance and allowing him to regain his senses, as if from a certain drunkenness. But if he persists in his madness, gaining nothing from such kindness and patience of God, he will at least heavily benefit others, warning them by his own punishment never to wage war against God, as no one can escape that invincible hand. Such disasters, then, at once overwhelmed them, to such an extent that they obscured all other calamities by the magnitude of the tragedy. ^B For after the killings and the infinite slaughters—which the hands of the then-oppressed Jews perpetrated—the earth was soaked with the blood of the slain to a great depth, and much mud was generated from that gore. From the bodies of horses and men mixed together, and from wounds touching one another, such a mass of worms boiled forth that while the land was covered by the multitude of corpses, these corpses were in turn covered by the worms. Anyone who had seen that field would surely have said that they were not bodies lying beneath, but very many springs, pouring forth this race of insects most copiously; to such a degree did that huge abundance of worms gush forth from that rottenness, more violently than any flood. And this happened not for ten or twenty days, but for a very long time. And those things which occurred to them here were of such a nature; but those which await them in the future are far more bitter than these. For not for a thousand years, or ten thousand, or twice or thrice that amount, but for infinite ages will their resurrected bodies endure unspeakable tortures and pains. Both of these things were known by the blessed Isaiah, and known by the beholder of wonderful visions, Ezechiel; they distributed the punishments of such men between themselves, the one describing the torments of the present age, the other those of the future.

^C I have mentioned these things not without cause, but because someone approached and brought a report full of bitterness, trouble, and massive insult against God. For he says that there are men today who dare to commit the same things that those barbarians once did—nay, far more iniquitous; for they are driving away from all sides those who are the guides to our philosophy, and with many added threats they forbid anyone from ever teaching any other man even a single thing of this kind. Upon hearing this, I immediately cried out, and I repeatedly questioned the reporter as to whether he was speaking in jest. "Away with that thought!" he said. "For I would never joke about these things, nor would I say them, and I have honored the author of these words, and I have often prayed that it would not be so—at least by hearsay would I not wish to accept it." Then, indeed, groaning more bitterly, he cried out, "Truly, the things dared by those who followed Mithridates and all those others were lighter, in so far as this temple is far more venerable and holy." "But tell me," I said, "from what cause, and looking to what end do they cast stones into the height, and to what..."

clouds do they shoot their arrows, and war against the God of peace? Samas, and the Pharathaei, and the princes of the Assyrians, and all those barbarians—as one can see even from the very names—were far removed from the Jewish way of life 46 and did not wish to see men increasing as they dwelt beside them, for they thought the power of those men would henceforth overshadow their own authority. But these men, with what liberty of theirs diminished, with what freedom being cut off, and having which of the rulers as their confederates, have dared these things? For those men had the Persian kings desiring the same things as themselves; while our men, as I persuade myself, both desire and pray for the very opposite. Whence I am filled with much perplexity, that while the kings are living in piety, such things as you speak of are dared in the midst of the cities." But he says: "If you learn what is even more paradoxical than this—that even those who see these things wish to be considered pious, and call themselves Christians, and many of them are even among those already initiated—and some one of these very men, having had the devil breathe into him, dared to say with that impious tongue of his that he would even depart from the faith and offer sacrifice to demons; for seeing free and noble men, capable of living in luxury, being choked as they are led to this harsh way of life. Having heard this, I was struck a more painful blow, and imagining all the evils that would come from this, I lamented for the whole world and said to God: 'Take my soul from me, and deliver me from my necessities, and relieve me of this fragile life, and remove me to that place where no one else will say, nor I hear, any such thing.' For I know that after I depart from here, the outer darkness will receive me, where there is much weeping and gnashing of teeth; but it is more pleasant for me to hear of gnashing teeth than of such words sounding forth. But seeing me mourning vehemently, he said: 'But not now is the time for these things; for you will never be able to restore the lost and perishing with these tears; for I do not think the evil will stop. It is necessary to see how we may extinguish the fire and stay the plague, this being our part; and if you would be persuaded by me, leaving aside these lamentations, work a discourse that contains an exhortation to those who are sick and seditious, for their own salvation and for the common salvation of all men. And I, having received this book, will place it in the hands of the sufferers instead of any other medicine; for I have many friends who are sick with such things, and they will endure for me to approach them once, and twice, and often, and I know that they will quickly be rid of the plague.' You, I said, 'measure our strength according to the measure of your love; for I have no strength of words to use for such a subject, and I am ashamed to use for such a cause not just any others, but all Greeks, both those who are and those who are to be, whom the idle 47 iniquity of life always compels me—not less than their false dogmas—now to instruct in our own evils. For if any of them perceive that there are some men among Christians so alienated from virtue and philosophy that they not only withdraw from the labors for it, but do not even endure discourse about them, and do not even stop their madness there, but if any other person advises and discourses on these things, they drive him away from every side; if they perceive these things, I fear lest they might think us not to be men, but wild beasts and human-shaped monsters, and certain avenging demons, and enemies of common nature, and bring this verdict not only against those under indictment, but against our entire race.' And having laughed, he said: 'You are jesting in saying these things; for I will tell you now that which is more opportune for this, if you fear lest they might learn from your words what all have already learned long since through deeds. For just as when some evil spirit has filled the souls of all, so all mouths are full of these things; and if you enter the marketplace, you will see, and in the physicians' shops, and in every part of the city where those who wish to do nothing are accustomed to sit together, much laughter is stirred up from everyone. And the subject of this laughter and this comedy is the narratives of the things wrought against the holy men. For just as some warriors who have completed many battles and set up trophies rejoice in recounting their own acts of prowess, so too these men gloat over their own acts of daring; and you will hear one saying: "I was the first to lay hands on so-and-so, the monk, and I inflicted blows"; and another: "I found the cell before the others"; "But I," says another, "provoked the judge more than the others"; another counts the prison and the terrible things in the prison, and the dragging of those holy men through the marketplace, as part of a panegyric; and another, some other thing. Then all guffaw at these. And these things happen in the assemblies of the Christians; but the Greeks laugh both at them and at those laughed at by them—at the former for what they did, at the latter for what they suffered; and everything is filled with a kind of civil war, or rather, these things are far more grievous than that. For when those who have waged that war ever recall it later, they curse those who stirred it up many times, and they attribute everything that happened in it to some evil demon; and those men are ashamed more than others, in proportion as they have done more than others in it; but these men even pride themselves on their acts of daring. And not only this, that this war is more impious than that one, nor that it is waged only against holy men who have injured no one, but also that it is against men who know how to do harm to no one, but are prepared only to suffer.' 3. Stop, I said, stop; for we have had enough even of these narratives, if I am not to expire entirely; but make me leave having at least some small strength. For as for you, whatever you have commanded will certainly come to pass; only do not add any other narrative for us, but go and pray that the cloud of despondency be scattered for me, and...

that I may obtain some assistance from God, who is being assailed, for the healing of those who assail Him. He will indeed grant this without doubt, since He is kind and wills not the death of the sinner, but that he should be converted and live. Having dismissed him, I proceeded to write this.

^A For if this were the only evil at hand—that the holy and admirable men of God were being dragged away, torn to pieces, hauled to trials, scourged, and suffering the other things I have narrated above—and no harm were to rebound from this onto the heads of those who have perpetrated such things, I would be so far from being grieved by what is being done that I would even laugh at them most heartily. For even as infants, whenever they strike their mothers without causing them danger, provoke the most abundant laughter, and cause them all the greater pleasure, the more vehement the anger with which they do it—so that they break into laughter and are almost bursting—yet if, while the infant does this continuously and with increasing force, it should happen that the mother is wounded, either by a needle fastened to the girdle of the mother’s tunic or by a bodkin attached to the mother’s breast intercepting the hand of the one striking: then, certainly, then letting go of the laughter, the mother is seized with a greater pain than he who was struck; and for the time being she treats the wound, but for the future she forbids with strong threats that she might do such things, so that she might not by chance suffer the same things again. We, therefore, would have done likewise if we were to look upon such childish anger as if it were a blow from infants that would not bring upon them a great destruction.

^B But since, after a little time has elapsed—even if, being possessed by rage, they do not perceive it now—they will weep, wail, and lament, not with such weeping as infants do, but in the outer darkness and in the unquenchable fire, let us do today what the mothers do, with only this difference: that we might address such infants not with threats and insults, as they do, but with gentleness and much mildness. For since there is no harm to the holy men from this, but rather a greater reward and increased boldness, if we were to mention the good things that are to come, you would perhaps laugh greatly, given that you are accustomed to laughing with such a laugh; but as for the present things, even if you were addicted to laughter a thousand times over, you would not deny the faith; nor, even if you wished, could you, since the facts themselves cry out to the contrary.

^C Hear all of you about Nero (for the man was famous for his profligacy, the first and only one to devise in the beginning of his reign certain new modes of indecency and baseness). This Nero, when he was accusing the blessed Paul in the time in which he was reigning—making the same accusations against him that you yourselves make against these holy men; for when he had persuaded his concubine, whom he was infatuated with, to embrace the teaching of the faith, he removed her from his impure consorting through his exhortations—he was charging him with such things, I say, and calling Paul a corrupter, a seducer, and by similar names that you bring forward now. He first threw him into bonds, and when he could not persuade him to stop giving instructions to the girl, he eventually put him to death. What, then, was the harm in this to the one who was evilly treated, and what the advantage to the author of the crime? Or rather, what was not the advantage to the slain Paul, and what was not the harm to the slaughtering Nero? Is not the one celebrated everywhere in the world as an angel? For I am speaking only of present things; and he, indeed, is spoken ill of by all as a corrupter and a savage demon? Even if you do not believe it, it is necessary to record it for the sake of those who do believe; although, from the things that are at hand, you yourselves ought to have believed them as well; but in whatever spirit you receive these things, they shall be told by us and will not be hidden.

^D What, then, will those things be? That miserable man, squalid, sad, filled with shame and darkness, with averted eyes, will be led away to where the worm does not die and the fire is not quenched; but the blessed Paul will stand with great boldness before that throne of the King, shining with splendor, and clothed in such glory that he is not inferior to the angels or the archangels, and he will receive such a reward as is fitting for a man to receive who has surrendered his body and soul for God and for His will. For thus the situation stands: great is the retribution prepared for those who have done good things, but it is greater and more abundant whenever those who do good things have undergone dangers and much ignominy. Even if the good work is equal in him who performs it without labor and in him who performs it with labor, the honors and crowns will not be equal. For even in war, he who has erected a trophy is crowned, but much more so he who bears wounds before him, through which the trophy was erected. And why do I speak of the living, when even those who have only given this proof of virtue, that they bravely fell in war, and bestowed no further benefit upon their own, are celebrated throughout all of Greece as saviors and patrons? Yet you are ignorant of these things, being always given over to laughter and pleasures. But if Gentiles, who hold to nothing sound, could observe this, and pursued with the highest honors those who died for them, having achieved nothing more, how much more will Christ do this, who always and everywhere surpasses those who undergo dangers for His sake with most generous gifts and rewards? For He has appointed the greatest rewards not only for persecutions, or scourgings, or prisons, and slaughters, but also for insults and abusive words. "Blessed," He says, "shall you be when men shall hate you, and when they shall separate you, and shall reproach you, and cast out your name as evil, for the Son of man’s sake. Be glad in that day and leap for joy; for behold your reward is great in heaven" (Luc. VI, 22, 23). If, therefore, both suffering and being spoken ill of increases the reward to those who suffer and are spoken ill of, he who prevents them from suffering and being spoken ill of does not aid them, but rather aids those who do and say evil. For he has harmed them the more, since he cuts off that greater reward, and takes away from them the matter for joy and leaping for joy. Wherefore, for the sake of these latter, it would perhaps have been better to be silent and to omit these things, which indeed prepare for them great riches of good things and greater boldness, since we are members of one another; and even if they deny the grace again, one must not be so disposed—one must not provide for one, and neglect the other. Both the one who is honored and the other are worthy of praise.

For the occasion for the merits of the others is provided to them, even if they are not affected by evils; but for those people, unless they desist from this struggle, no hope of salvation remains. Therefore, leaving them aside, I beg and implore you to obey those who exhort you, and not to push the sword against yourselves, nor to kick against the pricks, nor, while thinking you are hurting men, to grieve the Holy Spirit of God. For I know and am convinced that you will praise this opinion of ours, even if not now, then later; but I want you to do this now, so that you do not do it in vain afterward. Since that rich man, when he was here, considered the prophets, the law, and the exhortation from them to be a kind of fable and nonsense; but when he had departed there, he so admired their admonition that, when he saw that he could not be benefited by his praises, he begged the patriarch to send one from Hades to report to those on earth—fearing just this: lest they themselves ^C should suffer the same thing, and having laughed at the divine Scriptures, then admire them when they could derive no benefit from their admiration. And yet he did not do anything as great as you are doing. For he did not share his own things with Lazarus, but he did not prevent others who wished to share, nor did he drive them away as you do now. And you have concealed him not only by this cruelty, but also by another. For as it is not the same thing for one to do no good, and to prevent others who wish to do it, so too it is not the same thing to be in need of bodily food, and, while one is lying in a great famine of philosophy, to prevent him from being fed by others. Wherefore you have doubly surpassed that cruel rich man, by both preventing others from quenching the hunger and by displaying this inhumanity while the soul is strangling. This the Jews once did ^D, and they prevented the apostles from speaking to men the things that lead to salvation. But you are even worse than them. For they, having taken up the position of enemies, did all those things; but you, having assumed the mask of friends, show the things of enemies; for those men then scourged and insulted the holy apostles and covered them with evil reputation, calling them deceivers and impostors. But such vengeance overtook them, that no calamity can henceforth be equal to their disasters. For they were the first and alone of all men under the sun to suffer such things, as no one else ever did. And a trustworthy witness of these things is Christ, saying thus: "There will be great tribulation, such as has not been from the beginning of the world until now, nor ever shall be" (Matt. 24.21). Now, to go through all their sufferings is not for the present time, but a few out of many it is necessary to tell. I will speak not my own word, but that of a Jewish man who recorded their history accurately. What then does he say? Since he narrated the burning of the temple and reported those new ^A calamities: The things concerning the temple, he says, were in these straits; but of those perishing from famine in the city, the multitude was infinite, and indescribable things happened. For in every house, if any shadow of food appeared, there was war, and dearest friends went to hand-to-hand combat, snatching away the miserable provisions of the soul. There was no confidence in the lack of food, even for the dying, but the robbers searched even those who were breathing their last, lest anyone, having food hidden under their garment, should feign death for himself. Those who were gaping with need, like mad dogs, were reeling and wandering, striking against the doors in the manner of drunkards, and out of desperation they would break into the same houses twice or three times in one hour. Hunger drove them to put everything under their teeth, and even gathering things not fit for the filthiest of irrational beasts, they bore to eat them; at the last they did not even abstain from belts and shoes, and having stripped off the leather of their shields, they chewed them. And food for some was even fragments of old hay; for some, gathering the fibers, sold a tiny weight for four Attic drachmas. And what is the need to speak of the shamelessness of famine regarding inanimate things? For I am going to reveal a deed of it such as has not been heard of either among Greeks or among barbarians, terrible to speak of and incredible to hear. And I, lest I should seem to be fabricating wonders for the men of the future, would gladly have spared the calamity, if I did not have infinite witnesses of the things that happened in my own time; besides, I would have set it down as cold ^B gratitude to my fatherland to suppress the history of the things it has suffered. A certain woman of those inhabiting the region beyond the Jordan, Mary by name, of the father Eleazar, of the village of Bethezoba—this implies "house of hyssop"—distinguished by birth and wealth, having fled with the rest of the multitude into Jerusalem, was besieged with them. Her other property the tyrants had plundered, as much as she had packed from Peraea and brought into the city; but the remnants of her treasures, and if anything worth eating was devised, the soldiers would break in daily and snatch it away. Great, then, was the indignation that came upon the woman, and she often abused and cursed the plunderers, provoking them against herself. But since no one, either provoked or pitying her, would destroy her, and to find any food was difficult in other ways, and by now it was impossible to find any anywhere, and the famine was passing through her bowels and marrows, and her anger burned more than the famine, taking her wrath as a counselor along with necessity, she proceeded to nature itself, and, snatching up her child (it was a suckling infant) ^C, she said: "Wretched infant, in war and famine and sedition, for what will I keep you? Among the Romans there is slavery, even if we live under them; but the famine anticipates even slavery, and the factions are more grievous than both. Be, then, a food for me, and an Erinys to the factions, and a myth for history, the only thing missing for the calamities of the Jews." And saying these things at the same time, she kills her son, then, having roasted him, she eats half, and the rest she covered and kept. Immediately the faction members were there, and, having snatched the smell of the unlawful meal, they threatened that if she did not show what had been prepared, they would kill her immediately. She, having said that she had kept a fair portion for them, uncovered the remnants of the child. Terror and a delirium of the mind immediately came over them, and

being in this one matter only more timid, they scarcely allowed the meal ^A to the mother. The fame of such a crime immediately filled the whole city, and each one, setting the calamity before his own eyes, shuddered just as if he had done it himself. Those who were tortured by hunger sought death, and called those blessed who had departed before hearing of and seeing such evils. Quickly this calamity was reported to the Romans. Some of them did not believe, others felt pity, but the majority were carried to greater hatred of the race.

§ 6. And they suffered many things more grievous than these, not only because they had crucified Christ, but also because, after these things, they forbade the apostles to speak those things which pertained to our salvation. The blessed Paul, blaming this, prophesied these evils for them, saying, "The wrath has come upon them to the end" (1 Thess. 2:16). And what, they say, do these things have to do with us? For we are not drawing them away from the faith, nor from the preaching. But what, I ask, will faith confer of benefit, if life is not pure? But perhaps you are ignorant of these things, to whom all our matters are unknown. I, however, will enumerate for you the sentences of Christ: I would like you to observe whether it is never required to give an account of one’s life, and whether penalties have been set only for faith and dogmas. ^B For when He had ascended the mountain, seeing the countless multitude flowing around Him, after other warnings, He said: "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father." And again, "Many will say to me in that day, 'Did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name cast out demons, and in your name do many mighty works?' And then I will confess to them: 'Depart from me, you who practice lawlessness: I do not know you'" (Matt. 7:21-25). He said that one who hears His words and does not do them is like a foolish man building his house upon the sand, who prepares it to be easily destroyed by rivers, rain, and winds. And again, when He was preaching in another place: "Just as," He said, "the fishermen, when they have drawn the net, cast out the bad fish, so it will be in that day, when the angels cast all who have sinned into ^C the furnace" (Matt. 13:47). Speaking also of the dissolute and unclean men, He said: "They will go there, where the worm does not die, and the fire is not extinguished" (Mark 9:42). And again, "The King," He said, "made a marriage feast for his son, and when he had seen a man clothed in sordid garments, he said to him: 'Friend, how did you enter here not having a wedding garment?' But he was speechless. Then he said to his servants: 'Binding his hands and feet, cast him into the outer darkness'" (Matt. 22:2). To the unchaste, as has been said, and the flagitious, He threatens these things. The virgins also, who were excluded from the bridegroom's chamber, suffered these things on account of cruelty and inhumanity. Others, again, for the same reason go into the eternal fire, ^D which has been prepared for the devil and his angels. And these, too, who speak rashly and without cause will be condemned. For "by your words," He says, "you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned" (Matt. 12:37).

Are we, therefore, seen by you to fear for our life in vain, and to have great regard for that part of philosophy which institutes morals? I certainly do not think so, unless perhaps you maintain that Christ said all these things and more than these rashly. For we are not encompassing everything here; but if I were not loath to extend the discourse at greater length, I would have shown from the prophets and from the blessed Paul and from other apostles how much care God has put into this part. But I think these are sufficient; nay, not only all those things, but even a small part of them. For when God brings something forth, even if He says it once, it must be accepted as if He had said it often.

§ 7. But you say, who would be able to accomplish these things, which, unless they are accomplished, bring such punishment? I would indeed myself wish, no less than you, nay much more, and I have often desired that the necessity for monasteries be removed, and that only the best laws and rights prevail in the cities, so that now no one would have any need to flee to the solitude. But since all things have already been turned upside down, and the cities themselves, in which there are tribunals and laws, have been filled with great iniquity and wickedness, while the desert produces the richest fruits of philosophy; surely those are not rightly called into crime by you, who, desiring to deliver others from this storm and tempest, snatch them away and lead them to a tranquil harbor; but rather those who have made the individual cities so inaccessible and unsuitable for philosophy, that those who wish to achieve salvation are compelled to follow solitudes. For tell me, if someone at midnight, having seized a torch, had burned down a large house filled with people, so that he might lie in wait for those sleeping inside, would we say that he is wicked—the one who would wake the sleepers and lead them out of the buildings—or he who from the beginning had stirred up the fire, and had brought both them and the one leading them out into such necessity?

What, therefore, if someone, seeing a city oppressed by tyranny, laboring under sickness, and stirred up by seditions, were to persuade those whom he could to leave the city and betake themselves to the vertices of the mountains, and were to bring to them aids for their withdrawal: whom would you call into crime? The one who had transferred men tossed by tempests from such turmoil into tranquility, or the one who had prepared these shipwrecks? For beware of thinking that human affairs are now in a better state than a city oppressed by tyranny; but they are in a far worse one. For not a human being, but a certain most wicked demon, like a savage tyrant, occupying the whole world with his entire phalanx, rages against human souls; from there, as if from a citadel, he sends forth for human beings daily detestable and wicked commands, not only dissolving marriages, not [only] sending or taking away money, nor perpetrating wicked slaughters, but things far graver than these.

[329 A] The soul once joined to God, he who leads it away from communion with Him, and delivers it to his own impure satellites, and forces it to lie down with them—these, once they have laid hold of it, consort with it so shamefully and abusively as one would expect of evil demons, who vehemently and frantically desire our destruction and disgrace. Having stripped it, as it were, of all the garments of virtue, and having clothed it with the rags of wickedness, filthy, torn, and foul-smelling, and presenting it as more disgraceful in its nakedness, and having filled it with all their own impurity, they do not cease to parade their insults against it. For they know no satiety of this polluted and lawless intercourse; but as drunkards, when they are surfeited with much wine, then burn the more, so these also are then most frenzied, leaping upon it more violently and ^B savagely, as they abuse it most, piercing and biting it from every side, and pouring out their own venom into it; nor do they desist until they have transferred it to their own condition, or have seen it stripped of the body. What tyranny, therefore, what captivity, what devastation, what enslavement, what war, what shipwreck, what famine could be graver than these things? Who is so cruel and wild, who so foolish and inhumane and unsympathetic and unfeeling, as to be unwilling, as far as lies within his power, to deliver from that possessed frenzy and insult the soul suffering such things, and is content to watch it suffer so? But if this belongs to a pitiless and stony heart, what shall we call, tell me, those people who, beyond watching it, do something far greater than this, who are eager to leap into the midst of the dangers, and not only do not refuse to place their hands into the very throat of the beast, but endure both stench and dangers, that they may drag the already swallowed souls out from the very gullet of the demon, not only not praising them, nor accepting them, but even driving them away from everywhere and fighting them?

8. What then, he says? Have all who inhabit the cities perished and are they battered by storms, and must one leave the cities, and having deserted them, move to the desert, and inhabit the peaks of the mountains? And do you command and legislate these things? Away with such a thought! For, on the contrary, as I said before, I both wished and pray that we might enjoy such peace, and that the tyranny of these evils should be dissolved to such a degree, that there would be no necessity not only for those in the cities to take to the mountains, but even [to bring] those who inhabit the deserts, like refugees after a long interval of time, back to their own city. But what am I to suffer? I fear that, in my zeal to restore them to their country, I may, instead of this, deliver them into the hands of the evil demons, and in wishing to ^C deliver them from desert and flight, I may cause them to fall away from all philosophy and stillness. But if you think that the multitude of those in the city [as a reason] will shame me and terrify me, as if I would not endure to condemn the whole world, ignoring the decision of Christ, I will stand by this answer of yours along with it. For you will not endure anything so filled with daring as to look back at the verdict of the One who is about to judge us at that time. What then does He say? "Narrow is the gate, and straitened is the way, that leads unto life, and few are they that find it" (Matt. 7. 14). And if those who find it are few, so much the more [few] are those who are able to reach its end. For indeed not all who have set foot on the way have had the strength to reach its end; but some have been shipwrecked at the very beginnings, others in the middle, and many even at the very harbor. And again He says that many are called, but few are chosen. Since, therefore, Christ declares that the greater part is of destruction, and that salvation is limited to the few, why do you fight against me? For you do the same as if, when we were discussing the events of the time of Noah, you were to marvel that all had perished, while two or three men alone escaped such a torment, expecting thereby to stop our mouth, as if we did not dare to condemn the multitude. But we will not be persuaded of this, nor will we prefer the many to the truth. For the present things are no less than those which happened then, but even much more polluted, inasmuch as hell is threatened against them, and the things of wickedness are not even so cut off. For who, tell me, does not call his brother a fool? And this makes one liable to the fire of hell. Who has not looked with intemperate eyes at a woman? And this is already deemed adultery; and the adulterer on the other hand is necessarily fated to fall into that same hell. Who has not sworn? And this [comes] entirely from the evil one; and that which is from the evil one is itself entirely for punishment. Who has never envied a friend? And this makes one worse than even the heathens and the tax-collectors; and that there is no escaping punishment for those worse than them, is surely evident to everyone. Who has driven all wrath from his heart, and has forgiven the sins of all who have committed offenses against him? But that he who has not forgiven must necessarily be delivered to the torturers, not one of those who have heard Christ will deny. And who has not served mammon? But he who has served him must necessarily forgo the service of Christ; and having denied that, he must necessarily deny his own salvation. Who has not spoken evil secretly? And the Old [Testament] commands that these be killed and slaughtered. But what is the consolation for our own evils? That all, as if from some signal, have slipped into the pit of wickedness, which itself is the greatest proof of the prevailing disease, when this brings us consolation for evils, which ought to be the subject of greater sorrow. For having many partners in sins does not deliver us from the charges, and from the punishments. And if anyone has despaired over the things mentioned, let him wait a little, and then he will despair more, when we say things far graver than these, such as perjuries. For if to swear is diabolical, what punishment will it bring us, to even trample upon oaths? If to call someone a fool draws [one toward] hell, what would it not do, to shame one's brother with ten thousand insults, who has often done nothing wrong? If to bear a grudge is alone worthy of punishment, how much torment does it have, to even take action? But let us not [speak] of these yet, but let these things be kept for their own proper place.

For to omit other things, does not this very fact, which impelled us to write these things, suffice of itself to indicate the plague of the present disease? For if not to be affected by the consciousness of past sins, but to commit crimes without any pain, is the extreme limit of wickedness, where, pray, shall we rank these new legislators, the authors of this recent and most absurd law, who repel as teachers of virtue—and with greater confidence than others repel wickedness—those who wish to amend sins, and oppose them more bitterly than those who have actually sinned? Indeed, they not only do not endure them willingly, but they even accuse them, crying out in a way, both by words and deeds, that one must cling tenaciously to iniquity and never return to virtue; so that it is necessary to punish not only those who apply themselves to it, but even those who dare to utter a voice in its favor.

AD INFIDELEM PATREM, BOOK TWO

^A Satisfactory, indeed, are these things, and even capable of causing shock and trembling, even if one were to utter that prophetic saying regarding them: "The heaven was astonished at this, and shuddered exceedingly," and likewise: "Stupor and horrible things have been done in the land" (Jer. 2:12 and 5:30); he would say all such things fittingly. And what is far graver than these is that not only do some strangers, having no right of kinship with those who are being counseled, feel such indignation and find it burdensome, but even their own blood relations and parents have learned to grow angry over these matters. And yet, I am not unaware that there are many who are not particularly astonished that fathers do this; but they say that they are suffocated and inflamed with anger when they see those who are neither fathers, nor friends, nor relatives, nor in any other respect close—indeed, often unknown to those who begin to philosophize—suffering this very thing, and grieving more than the parents themselves, attacking and accusing those who were the authors of this plan to them. But to me, the opposite seems a matter for wonder. For that those who are held by no right of guardianship or friendship should be distressed at the goods of others should not seem a wonder, as they are partly seized by envy and partly, because of their own malice, think the ruin of others to be their own happiness—miserably and unhappily, indeed, yet thinking it so. But that those who have begotten, who have nurtured, who pray in their daily vows to see their children more illustrious than themselves, who for this reason do and suffer everything—that they should be seized as by some drunkenness, to be suddenly changed and distressed by the zeal for philosophy undertaken by their sons; that is what I admire the most of all, and that I consider to be a suitable argument that all things are corrupted and lost. ^B No one would say this happened in past times, not even when error ruled openly. Once indeed it happened in a Greek city, but one which tyrants were occupying; yet not even then did any of the parents—as now—but those who had occupied the citadel; nor indeed all, but the most wicked among them, summoned Socrates and ordered him to desist from the doctrine of philosophy. But that man, a tyrant, an infidel, and savage, who was plotting everything to overthrow the republic, and who gloried in the misfortunes of others, knowing that nothing could so much overturn the best state of a republic as such a command, dared these things. But these people, who are believers and live in well-constituted cities, and who wish for the welfare of their own children, dare to speak these same things that that tyrant said regarding his own subjects, and are not ashamed. Wherefore, these who are so indignant are more worthy of astonishment than those others. Therefore, I also, leaving those aside, will address these who have the greatest care of their sons, or rather, who should have had it but do not, gently and with the greatest moderation; wishing to obtain from them that they should not take it ill nor be indignant if someone says that he knows what is expedient for their sons better than they themselves do. For it is not sufficient to have begotten a son for a parent to be able to give the child appropriate training; but procreation contributes much to the love of offspring, while for their suitable education and discipline, neither procreation nor love is sufficient. ^C For if this were the case, no man could know what is more useful to a son better than a father, since there is no one who can love a son more than he. But in fact, fathers confess by their deeds that they are ignorant of this; when they bring them to teachers, when they entrust them to tutors, when they employ countless counselors, in order to know to what life’s calling their son should be entrusted. And this is not a miracle, but that when they consult about their sons, they embrace the opinion of others, often rejecting their own. Do not, therefore, let them take it ill if we say that we know better what is convenient for them; but unless we prove this by certain reasoning, then let them accuse, then let them assail with reproaches as arrogant, as corruptors, and enemies of all nature. By what reasoning shall we know who it is that sees what is fitting, and who it is that seems to know it but does not know it at all? If we allow my words to be brought to trial as if they were certain objections, compelling a confrontation, and permit these things to be examined by incorrupt judges. The law of the contest orders us to enter the battle against the Christian, and to fight with him only, and it demands nothing more from us. "For what is it to me to judge those who are outside?" (1 Cor. 5:12) says the blessed Paul. But because it often happens that many of those who are being drawn toward heaven, infidels...

^A only with these would our contest lie, although it is more difficult and has more handles; for "the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit," for they are "foolishness unto him" (I Cor. II, 14). It is the same as if one were to persuade a man who did not wish to be convinced that the kingdom of heaven exists. Nevertheless, even though our words are thus hemmed in, I would have wished that my contest were with these alone. For with the believer we have many rights, yet the excess of shame obscures the pleasure from the abundance of what is right. I am ashamed when I am forced to contend with him also on these matters, and I fear lest the Hellene might have this as a just accusation to bring against me; for as regards the others, by the grace of God we shall easily overcome him, and if he should wish to be grateful, we shall quickly turn him not only to the love of this life, but even to the desire for the very doctrines from which this life has its foundation. For I am so far from fearing the contest with him that I will first make it harder by my speech, and then I will grapple with him. ^B Let it be assumed that this father is not only a Hellene, but also wealthier than all men and conspicuous, and endowed with great power; let him have many fields, many houses, and ten thousand talents of gold; let him be of the most royal city and of the most illustrious lineage, and let him have no other children, nor hope to have any in the future, but let him be tossed by this alone; let him also be in high hopes, and let him expect soon to ascend to the same authority, and to appear more brilliant than he, and to eclipse all others by his worldly goods. Then, in the midst of these hopes, let someone approach and discourse to him about this philosophy, and persuade him to laugh at all those things, to put on a coarse cloak, to leave the city to flee to the mountain, to plant there, to irrigate, to carry water, and to do all the other things that monks do, which are thought to be both base and shameful. Let him also be barefoot, let him sleep on the ground, and let this noble youth, who was previously living in such luxury and honor and had such hopes, become thin and pale, and be clothed in a garment more contemptible than those of his own servants. Have we given the accuser sufficient handles, and have we constructed the antagonist sufficiently?

If not sufficiently, we shall provide him with other pretexts. After these, let him set in motion every machine to change his son’s mind, and all in vain, as if the boy were standing upon a rock, and as if he were above the rivers, the rain, and the winds. Let such a man lament and produce tears so as to inflame all the more the anger against us, and let him continuously complain to everyone he meets: "I planted, I reared, I labored throughout all his age, doing and suffering everything that usually happens as a result of child-rearing. I had good hopes; I discussed with tutors; I invited teachers; I spent money; I often kept watch while caring for his decorum and his education, so that he might not be lacking in any of his ancestors, so that he might appear more brilliant than all. I expected him to share my old age, and as time went on, I was planning about a wife and marriage, about authority and power. But suddenly, like some thunderbolt or tempest falling from somewhere, ^C it sank a ship laden with many cargoes, having traversed a long sea, and sailing before a fair wind, and when it was already at the very harbor, a little before its mouth; and it did not merely cause the fear of extreme poverty, but also of a pitiful death and destruction, lest the storm might fall upon the head of him who had become rich with such things. Thus it has befallen me now. For the accursed ones, the corrupters and deceivers (let them be called this as well, we shall not differ) have snatched from me the support of my old age, as some pirate-captains, and have led him away to their dens, and have so enchanted him with their incantations that he would rather stand bravely before the sword, fire, wild beasts, and any evil whatsoever, than return to his former prosperity. And the most difficult thing is that, having persuaded him of these things, they pretend that they are looking out for his own interest better than we! The houses are desolate, the fields are desolate; the farmers are full of gloom and shame, and the servants as well; the enemies are cheerful over my misfortunes, while my friends cover their faces. But I have no judgment left, except to set fire and burn everything—houses, fields, herds of oxen, and flocks of sheep. For where will these be of use to me now, since he who would have used them is not here, but has become a captive and serves among savage barbarians in a slavery more bitter than any death? I have clothed all my servants in black, I have sprinkled my head with ashes; I have set up choirs of women and commanded them to lament more severely than if they were seeing a dead body. Forgive me for doing this: my grief is greater than that. I seem to be troubled by the light, and I am annoyed by the rays themselves, when I take into my mind the figure of that miserable child of mine, when I see him clothed more dishonorably than those base rustics and sent off to more base works. When I dwell upon his stubbornness, I am burned, I am torn, I am shattered."

^D Having said these things, let him also be seen prostrate at the feet of those who hear him, let him sprinkle ashes upon his head, let him defile his face with dust, and let him implore—oh, how well the accuser is prepared to make all those who hear him reach out their hands—let him pluck out his white hair. Soon we shall inflame everyone, and persuade them to cast those who have done such things over a precipice. For this reason, I led the argument to the pinnacle of accusations, so that this person, having been thus constructed and having been defeated by us by the grace of God, none might happen to have a case against the rest. For this one, who possesses all these things at once, having been silenced, he who does not possess everything at once (for it is not possible that all these things should coincide) will easily yield the victory to us thereafter. Therefore, let this man say these things and more than these. But I shall request those who are judging not to pity this old man now, but only when we show him mourning for his son—having suffered no evil, but having partaken of great goods, and goods beyond which it is not possible to find others. For then he would be truly worthy of pity and tears, being unable to discern the good fortune of the boy, but being so far from it that he laments as if over the greatest evils.

^A What then shall be the beginning of our discourse? We shall begin with wealth and riches themselves, since this is what he laments most of all, and it seems to him most terrible if wealthy children are drawn into this life. ^B Tell me then, do we call everyone blessed—and most fortunate—who is always burning with thirst, and who, before he has drained his first cup, is already in need of another, and who always persists in this state; or do we call him blessed who, being established above that necessity, remains forever without thirst, and is never driven to such a draught? Is not the former like one gripped by a fever, who is pressed by the most violent necessity, even though he might be able to draw deep draughts from fountains, while the latter is free with a true liberty, and healthy with perfect health, and surpasses human nature itself? ^C What then, if someone who loves a woman were to be with her constantly, yet burn with greater fire after the intercourse; but another stood free from this madness, and were not even troubled by this evil in his dreams—which of the two would seem to us happy and blessed? Would it not be the latter? And who would be the miserable and most wretched one? Would it not be he who is held by this vain love, who can never be extinguished, nay, who is even more inflamed by the remedies devised for it? But if, beyond these things that have been said, he were to call himself blessed because of the ^D disease itself, and if he were not willing to be set free from that necessity—as is the case with the person now under discussion—would he not be even more miserable and unhappy for this reason, since he not only is sick, but does not even know that he is sick, and therefore neither wills to be set free, and even laments for those who have been liberated? Let us therefore refer this discourse to the possession of wealth, and we shall see who is miserable and wretched. For among those loves, this desire is more vehement, and this is closer to madness; therefore it is capable of bringing greater pain, not only because it has sharper goads, but because it is unable to yield to any devised consolation, and is more powerful than all those others. For those who love drink and bodies are more likely, after they have enjoyed them, to rejoice in being sated, than are those who are borne along by the insane love of riches. Wherefore it was necessary to portray those others with our discourse, because the proof and test of them does not appear immediately; but of this disease, we are able to provide many examples from actual things. ^A Therefore, tell me, I ask you, do you lament your son because he is liberated from such madness, from such a desperate disease, and because he is not held by an incurable love? Because he has been rescued from this war and conflict? “But he would never have suffered this,” you will say, “nor would he have desired many things, but would have been content with present goods.” Truly you speak against nature itself, so to say; but let it be so, let it be granted to you that he would not have wished to add anything to what he had, nor to be held by any desire of this kind: I will show that even so, he moves in greater peace and pleasure now. For what shall we judge to be lighter—to be entangled in such cares, and to be bound to such custody and servitude, and to fear lest some part of one's property should perish—or to be freed from these shackles? Let it be granted that he does not seek other burdens; but it is much better to despise those already imposed. ^B For if, as is acknowledged, to be in need of few things is the greatest good, to be outside all such use of things will surely be a greater happiness. For he who neither thirsts nor loves (for nothing hinders us from returning to the same examples) has been shown to be far more blessed, not only than those who always thirst and always love, but even than those who suffer this for a brief time and satisfy their desire, as one who has not fallen into the experiment of this necessity. I will question you again: if it were permitted to tower above all in riches, and yet to be free from those evils which riches are accustomed to bring, would you not choose a thousand times over to enjoy this happiness, in such a way that you would suffer no envy, no calumnies, no cares, nor anything else of that kind? If, therefore, I show you that your son has all these things, or rather that he is far richer now, will you finally put an end to lamenting so bitterly? That he is freed from cares and other evils which are accustomed to follow wealth, you yourself will not deny; therefore, it is not necessary for us to argue with you on this point. But you ask how he is richer than you, who possess so many things. We shall teach you this, and we shall demonstrate that you, who think that he is now living in extreme poverty, suffer this very thing if you are compared with him. For I shall draw an argument from the things that are in your hands, and from those which will arrive after this life. You, therefore, are master only of the things you possess; he, however, is master of all things that are in the whole world. If you do not believe it, come, let us take you to him, ^C and let us persuade him that, descending from the mountain—or rather residing there—he should command one of those who are very wealthy and at the same time religious to send him as much weight of gold as you yourself would choose. Or, because he would not suffer that, let him command him to give it to someone in need. And you will see the rich man obeying and bestowing it more readily than one of your own stewards would do. For this man, when he is ordered to spend something, does it sad and groaning; on the other hand, the other one, when he does not spend, ^D is then anxious lest he might have offended in something, because nothing of this kind is commanded to him. I could certainly show you many; not of the more illustrious, but of the lowly ones, too, who are gifted with such great power. And you, indeed, if your stewards should consume what was entrusted to them, you have no one else from whom to ask, but immediately through their wickedness your riches will be changed into poverty. But from your son, nothing of this kind is to be feared. For if he should fall into poverty, he will command again to another; and if he also should suffer a similar thing, he will turn himself to another; finally, the sources of the fountains will be depleted before anyone fails to obey your son as he commands. But if you were in agreement with us in religion, I would have told you many similar and great things; but because you profess yourself a gentile, not even from this source will examples be lacking. Hear (in Plato) what Crito says to Socrates:

“My money is surely thine, as I indeed think, quite enough; but if, because thou hast care for me, thou thinkest thou must abstain from my property,

^A And Cebes, and many others. Therefore, as I was saying, do not, out of fear of these things, grow weary of saving thyself; nor let that be a hardship to thee which thou didst mention in court—that, having departed, thou wouldst not know what to do with thyself. For in many places, wherever thou mayest arrive, they will welcome thee. But if thou desirest to go into Thessaly, I have friends there who will hold thee in high regard and will provide for thy safety, so that thou wilt lack nothing of what is found in Thessaly. What is pleasanter than this abundance? But these things are said as if to a man concerned with worldly life; if, however, we should wish to examine wealth more philosophically—thou, perhaps, will not follow the argument, but it is necessary for me, for the sake of the judges, to speak. For such is the wealth of virtue, so much pleasanter, so much more desirable than the wealth among you, that those who possess it would never wish to receive the whole earth in its stead, even if it were to become gold together with the mountains, the sea, and the rivers. And if it were possible for this to come to pass, thou wouldst have learned from experience itself that these are not empty boasts, but that having found something much greater and more abundant, they will despise the former, and would never exchange it for this. And why do I say "exchange"? They would not even choose to receive it along with the other. And yet, if someone were to offer you the wealth of virtue along with money, you would receive it ^B with open hands; so much do you acknowledge that it is great and marvelous; but they would not choose your wealth along with their own; so well do they know that it is a thing to be despised. And this again I will make clear from your own examples. For how much money dost thou think Alexander would have given to Diogenes, if he had been willing to accept it? But he was not willing; yet the other strove and did everything so that he might once be able to reach even his wealth.

5. Art thou willing to see thy poverty from another angle, and the abundance of thy son? Well then, go and take away ^C his cloak, which is the only thing he has, and lead him out of his hut, and pull down his shelter: and even so thou wilt not see him distressed or grieving, but he will even be grateful to thee for these things, inasmuch as thou art pushing him further toward philosophy. But if someone were to take away only ten drachmas from thee, thou wouldst not cease to wail and lament. Who then is wealthy, he who is stung by trifles, or he who despises all things that exist? And do not do this alone, but drive him out of the entire region also, and thou wilt see him laughing at these things, as if at a child playing. But if someone were to drive thee out of thy fatherland alone, thou wouldst suffer most terrible things, and thou wouldst not be able to bear the misfortune. But he, since the whole earth and sea are his, will move from these places as easily and painlessly as thou journeyest through thine own fields; or rather, even more easily. For while it is permitted to thee to walk through thine own, yet it is necessary to go through others’ lands as well; but he will journey through all of his own land; and streams, rivers, and springs provide him drink from everywhere in abundance, and herbs and plants are his food, and bread is also to be found in many places. For I do not yet say to thee that he despises the whole ^D earth, having

heaven as his city.

^B or found in magnitude here, as it is in heaven. For by comparing the royal life with the solitary, and weighing the hopes of each against the other, you imagine that your son has fallen from the very heavens. Therefore, the first thing to be learned is this: that solitude does not make a man ignoble, nor does the royal life make him bright and illustrious. And before we come to arguments, I will release you from this suspicion by examples—examples, I say, not from our own world, but from yours. ^C Perhaps you have heard of Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily, and likewise of Plato, the son of Ariston. Which, then, tell me, was more distinguished? Which is celebrated and sung of by the mouths of the many? Is it not the philosopher more than the tyrant? And yet that man held the whole of Sicily ^D and lived in luxury, surrounded by great riches and swarms of bodyguards, and passed a long life with all the other trappings of power. But the latter passed his time in the garden of the Academy, planting and grafting, eating olives, and setting a most humble table, empty of all that vain splendor.

And this is not so very wonderful; but the fact that he became a slave, and was sold by the judgment of the tyrant, was so far from making him appear viler on that account, that he seemed worthy of admiration even to the tyrant himself. Such a thing is virtue! Not only by the things it does, but also by what it suffers unworthily, it does not allow itself, nor those who exercise it, to remain hidden and concealed. What, then, of his teacher, Socrates? How much more illustrious was he than Archelaus? For the latter, being king, lived in great wealth; but the former passed his time in the Lyceum and had nothing besides one cloak, which he used in winter and summer, and in all the seasons of the year. He always appeared barefoot and spent the whole day fasting, content with bread alone; and this was his side-dish and his meal. Nor did he provide even this table from his own things, but received it from others, living in extreme 66 poverty. And yet he was so much more illustrious than the king himself, that, though often invited by him, he was unwilling to leave the Lyceum and go to his wealth. And from the very reputation that prevails now, it is apparent which things are better. For the names of the latter are known to many; those of the former, to no one.

Again, that other philosopher from Sinope (Diogenes) was so much richer than these and countless other kings, even though clothed in tattered rags, that Alexander, the son of Philip of Macedon, leading his army against the Persians, when he saw him, dismissed everyone, went to him, and asked if he needed anything and if he had any orders. He, however, replied that he needed nothing. Are you satisfied now with examples, or shall we mention others? Verily, these men were more illustrious not only than those who were prominent in royal courts, but even than the kings themselves, since they chose a private and quiet life and were unwilling to yield in any way to the administration of the state.

Virtue makes us more illustrious than riches. But you will discover that even in the administration of the state itself, those who were equipped with riches, luxuries, and faculties were not the ones who were bright, but rather those who lived in poverty, simplicity, and a moderate life. Among the Athenians, Aristides, whom the city buried after his death—how much more illustrious was he than Alcibiades, who excelled in wealth, luxury, power of speech, bodily strength, nobility, and all other things—by as much as a marvelous philosopher is higher than some base little boy. Among the Thebans, Epaminondas, when called to the assembly, could not come because he was seeing to the washing of his own garment and had no other to wear; yet he was more distinguished than all the generals who had gathered there. So do not boast of solitude or the royal life to me. For brilliance and splendor do not consist in places, nor in garments, nor in dignity, nor in power, but in virtue and philosophy alone.

I shall examine the matter from your own son. For we shall find him to be not only now more illustrious, but even more honored by the very same things by which you say he is vile and ignoble. For if you wish, we will persuade him to descend from the mountain and burst into the forum. You will see immediately the eyes of the whole city turned to him, and all pointing him out with wonder and amazement, as if some angel had descended from heaven. Does anything else seem to you to be glory? Certainly he will be more illustrious than not only those who spend their time in royal courts, but even than the one who is crowned with the diadem, with that vile and torn garment. For he would not be an object of such admiration to all if he were covered in golden garments—nay, even if he were adorned with the purple itself and the very crown, and if he reclined on silk, and were carried by mules, accompanied by a gilded crowd of bodyguards—as he is now, covered in filth and grime, clad in a coarse garment, accompanied by no attendant, and walking with bare feet. For those royal trappings are both established by laws and accepted by custom; wherefore, if anyone were to say with admiration that the emperor is dressed in a golden garment, we would not only not admire it, but even laugh, since he would be saying nothing new. But if anyone announces regarding your son that, having despised his father's wealth, having trampled upon the pomp of the world, and having become superior to worldly hopes, he has retreated into the desert, clad in a vile and foul tunic: all will immediately run together, wonder, and praise his greatness of soul. Certainly, when emperors are assailed by countless curses, their golden garments profit them nothing, so far are they from making them marvelous; but this man, even by his very garments, provides many opportunities for admiration, so that this kind of dress makes him far more spectacular than a royal one would; for from that, no one admires an emperor, but this dress is an object of admiration and amazement to all. "What," you will say, "do the opinion and praises of the mob confer upon me?" Verily, glory is nothing else. But, you reply, I am not held by the desire for this; I seek power and honors. But those who praise will also honor. If you desire power and prefecture, we shall find that this is no less present in these men than the former. This, which we can confirm with examples, we shall examine from your son himself, coming to a more convenient way of consoling you, and we shall examine the matter from none other than your own son. What do you say is the argument of ultimate power? Is it not that

one is able to retaliate against those who cause injury, and able to requite those who confer benefits? Yet, one would not see this entire power realized even in the case of a king; for he has many who cause him injury whom he cannot punish, and many who do him good whom he cannot easily requite. For in wars, he has often desired to punish enemies who have done him countless evils, but has not had the strength to do so; and he has not had the power to requite friends who have exhibited great deeds of valor, for they were snatched away prior to the recompense, having fallen in the very war itself. ^A What then, if I were to demonstrate that your son possesses another power, far greater than this, which as the argument has shown, even kings do not enjoy? And let no one perhaps suppose that we are speaking of the good things in the heavens—things about which you are skeptical, and of which we have not forgotten our promises—but rather, we shall provide proof from the things happening here. For if it is the greatest power to be able to punish those who cause injury, it is far greater than this to find such a state of life wherein not even if one wished would one be able to cause pain. That this is greater than that will be manifest and clear to us, if we bring our discourse to another example. For tell me, what is better: to be so experienced in the ways of war that no one who wounds us can escape unwounded, or to possess such a body that no one, even if he performs ten thousand deeds, is able to strike that body? It is surely clear to everyone that the latter is both more powerful and more divine than the former; and not only this, but also that which is far superior to it. And what is this? To know the medicines by which all wounds are healed. Since there are, then, three modes—one of being able to punish those who do wrong, ^B another, higher one, of knowing how to heal one's own wounds (for this does not necessarily follow from the former), and a third, of being vulnerable to no human being, which is indeed even beyond human nature—we shall demonstrate that your son possesses this.

7. And that these are not empty words, and that we have found another power greater than this great power in the meantime, is clear. For one will see that there are those who not only cannot, but do not even wish to injure others; so that the means for his security are doubled. What, then, could be more divine than this life, in which no one either wishes to do evil, nor, if he wished, would be able to do so? And this is especially true when the "not wishing" does not arise from an inability, as happens in many cases, but from finding no reason to do so. For if this were the case in itself—I mean the "not being able"—it would not be of such great account; for hatred would have been born toward those who wished but were not able to do wrong, and even this is not a small mode of blessedness. Let us, therefore, examine this very point first, if you agree. For tell me, who will ever wish to injure one who has nothing in common with men—neither for the sake of contracts, nor land, nor money, nor possessions, nor anything else whatsoever? Over what territory will he contend with him? Over what slaves? Over what glory? Fearing what? Being bitten by whom? For we are moved to injure others either by envy, or by fear, or by anger. But this man is superior to all such kings. ^C For who will envy one who laughs at all these things for which others are torn apart and are anxious? Who will be angry if he has suffered no wrong? Who will be afraid, suspecting nothing? Consequently, that some will not wish to do wrong is clear from this; and that even if they should wish, they would not be able, this also is equally clear from that. For he has no pretexts, nor the handles whereby anyone could lay hold of him; but just as an eagle flying on high would never be caught in a sparrow's trap, so too is this man. For from where will anyone be able to injure him? Wealth he has not, that one might threaten the loss of it; a homeland he does not have, that one might threaten exile; for glory he does not strive, that one might lead him into dishonor; there is one thing remaining: death. But here, most of all, one will not be able to injure him at all, but will rather confer the greatest benefits. For it sends him to another life, the one he longs for, and for the sake of which he does and pursues all things; so that this is a release from toils, and not a punishment, but a cessation of labors and a rest. Do you wish to learn also another mode of his power, far more philosophical than this? For even if someone performs ten thousand terrible things to him, even if he scourges him, even if he binds him, the body is struck due to its nature, but the soul remains unstruck due to its philosophy. For it is not caught by anger, nor mastered by hatred, nor conquered by enmity. And this is not yet a great thing, but that which is far more admirable than this: just as he loves his benefactors and those who have protected him, so he loves those who have performed such things, and so he prays that all good things may be theirs. And yet, what so great a thing would you have given him if you had made him king of the world ten thousand times over, and extended the kingdom over ten thousand years? Of what royal purple is this possession, of what authority, of what glory is it not more precious? What would he not have surrendered in order to obtain such a soul? ^D It seems to me that it would capture even those who are strongly attached to their bodies with the desire for this life. Do you wish to see from another angle the power of the man, more admirable and most sweet, from a lower part, but to you most sweet? For the things said demonstrate him to be unconquerable and invulnerable; but that he will also preside over others, and establish them in great security, this perhaps you seek to learn. This then is indeed the first leading, to lead others into the same zeal, and thus to make them strong; but if they do not wish to, but choose this more human and earthly life, and in this too you shall see him possessing power greater than the one who is wealthy, for the very reason that the one who possesses nothing possesses more. For who will speak with greater authority to a king and rebuke him? You, who possess so much, and are therefore accountable to the servants of that man, and trembling on behalf of all things, and offering him countless pretexts if he should wish to injure you in anger, or this man who is superior to the hands of that king? For those who have become free from all worldly affairs have spoken with kings with great authority. And whom will the one who is in power, and moving about in the royal courts, yield to and heed more: your wealthy self, whom he suspects often does many things for the sake of money, or him who has one subject for his commands, namely, philanthropy toward others? Whom will he honor and admire, regarding whom he could suspect nothing base, or him who is even humbler than his own servants?

II. 8. Or if you wish, let him accomplish ^A nothing through others, but everything through himself; let us bring someone who is suffering and in distress to him—or rather, not to you, but to the emperor himself—so that we may see who is better able to provide for him. Let someone be brought first, for example, who has suffered the most grievous loss of all; suppose, for instance, a man who had an only son and has lost him in the very bloom of youth. Neither a prince, nor a king, nor anyone else will be able to comfort this man, much less you; for you cannot give him back anything resembling what he has lost. But if you bring him to your son, the latter will immediately lift him up from his very appearance, his demeanor, and his dwelling, and will convince him to hold human affairs as nothing; then, by his discourse, he will easily dispel the entire cloud of sorrow. From your house, ^B however, that man would bring back a more bitter grief. For when he sees it devoid of all evils, filled with such great prosperity, and having a successor present, he will be agitated by greater grief. Conversely, he will become calmer and nearer to philosophy through the other, for when he sees your son despising such great wealth, such great glory, and such great splendor, he will be less pained by the death of his son. For how could he be tormented because he lacks an heir to his goods, when he sees another man contemning all these things? Together with this, he will listen more readily to one speaking on philosophy when he confirms his words by his deeds. You, indeed, if you should even dare to open your mouth, will only fill him with immense despondency, inasmuch as you philosophize while surrounded by foreign evils. But your son, instructing him by the facts themselves, will persuade him with ^C no effort that death is nothing other than sleep; for he will not enumerate many fathers who have suffered the same, but will show himself daily pondering death in his body and always prepared for the same. By this, he will make the doctrine of the resurrection more credible and will send him away, having relieved him of the greatest part of his sorrow; and his words, supported by the very facts, will be far more effective for alleviating the pain of the soul than [those of] his drinking companions and parasites. And thus, he will heal this man.

9. But let another be brought to him also, if you wish, who has lost his eyes from a continuous disease; what help will you be able to bring him? But that man, showing that this is not a grave matter, enclosed in a small cell, and hastening toward another light, while considering the present life—if it be compared to that one—to be of no great moment, will instruct him to bear his calamity with ^D fortitude. Will you lead those who have suffered loss to philosophize? By no means; rather, you will be troublesome to them, for we are accustomed to notice our own sad affairs more carefully in the successes of those near us. But your son will more easily revive these people as well. I omit the help of prayer, which is far greater than all these things, and I omit it because my discourse at present is with you. But if you desire to be honored on account of your son, and not to be held in contempt (for it is likely that you desire this), I know not how you could attain it more abundantly than by having a son who transcends human nature, and who is held in the highest esteem throughout the whole world, and who, with such splendor, has no enemy. For endowed with your power, he might have been honorable to many, but odious to very many; but this man—all who honor him do so with pleasure. For if some of the lowest rank, born of base rustics and laborers, having entered this philosophy, have been so venerable to all that no one among those who shone with the highest dignities felt ashamed to go to their hut and be a companion in their conversation and table—and indeed, they were so affected as if they had obtained the greatest of goods, which was true—how much more will they do this when they see a youth born of an illustrious family, of splendid means, and of such great hope, to have turned himself to that virtue! Therefore, what you complain of most—that he has crossed over from those goods to these—is what makes him most worthy of being looked upon, and induces everyone to turn their eyes toward him, not as to a man, but as to an angel. For they will not suspect concerning your son what they are accustomed to suspect about others—namely, that he chose this way out of a desire for honor or money, or wishing to become someone notable from a humble station; for these things, even if they were said about others—and though they be false and unjust—will not even be able to offer room for suspicion in your son.

10. Nor should you think these things happen because the emperors cultivate pious religion; for even if the empire should collapse and the rulers fall into infidelity, then the virtues of your son would shine even more brightly. For our affairs do not conduct themselves in the manner of the Gentiles, nor do they follow the decrees of rulers, but consist in their own virtue, and they shine most when they are most attacked; for a soldier is indeed esteemed in time of peace, but he is far more esteemed when war is encroaching. Therefore, with Gentiles ruling, he will be famous with greater honor. For those who reverence your son now will do so much more when they see him struggling, using greater confidence, and having many opportunities to act in a glorious manner. Do you wish that we also examine the things that concern you, or does that seem superfluous? For he who is so gentle and mild toward others, so that he offers no one a handle for complaint, will hold his father in much higher honor, and will cherish him far more than if he had been in a secular magistracy. For if he had attained a great empire, it is uncertain whether he would have held his father in contempt; but now he chooses a life by which, being more glorious than the emperor himself, he will be the most humble of all toward you. For such is the philosophy held among us, that it brings things that appear contrary—namely, modesty and loftiness—into one soul. And indeed, in the secular world, as one desiring money, he might perhaps have desired your death; but now he prays that your life be prolonged as long as possible, so that he may be given from this also more glorious crowns. For the reward proposed to us for honoring our parents is not small; but we are commanded to regard them as our masters, to cultivate them in word and deed, provided that piety and religion are harmed in nothing. For what, as it is said, will you repay them for what they have been to you? Consider, therefore, him who in all other things...

is now more illustrious, more pampered, more powerful, and more free, and more your servant than before, with such great magnanimity—why, tell me, do you lament? Is it because you do not tremble every day, lest he fall in war, lest he offend the Emperor, lest he be caught by the envy of his fellow soldiers? Or do not fathers fear ^A even these things, and more than these, regarding their most reputable sons? For just as those who place a child in a high place are forced to tremble lest he fall, so also are those who bring their sons to high authority. But you say, the belt and the chlamys and the herald’s voice possess some pleasure. And for how many days do these endure, tell me? For thirty, and a hundred, and so long? And what after these? Is it not as a dream, not as a fable, ^B not as a shadow that all those things have passed away? But now, for him, the things of honor [remain] until the end, or rather even after his departure, and much more then; and no one will take this authority from him, since he was ordained not by men, but by virtue itself. But you wished to see him wearing costly garments, and carried on horseback, and having a multitude of servants, and feeding parasites ^C and flatterers. Why did you desire these things? Was it not that you were providing him pleasure through all these? If, therefore, you listen to him saying—for you will perhaps not believe us—that of those living in luxury and fornication and music and parasites and flatterers and the rest of the folly, he considers this life so much sweeter that he would choose to die ten thousand deaths repeatedly, if one were to order him to abandon this ^D pleasure and leap to that other, what will you say to these things? Do you not know how much pleasure a life without troubles possesses? Perhaps no one among men knows it, since he has not yet tasted it purely. But when brightness is also added, and these incompatible things once again come together, security and good repute, what could be better than this life? But why, he says, do you discuss these things with me, since I am far removed from philosophy? Why, then, do you prevent your son from becoming close to it? It is enough that the damage stops with you. Do you not consider it a very great damage when, having arrived at extreme old age, since you have harvested nothing good during your youth, you are vexed by your old age? And yet for this reason, he says, we are vexed, because our youth benefited us greatly. What great things? Show me, old man, that you possess those great things; for if he possessed them, and they had remained durable, he would not have lamented so much as though he were destitute of all these things; but if they flew away and withered, what great things are those which are so quickly extinguished? But not so will your son experience this, but if ever he should come to a long old age, you will not see him distressed by these things as you are, but rejoicing and glad and exulting; for his good things are then blossoming more. ^A Your wealth, even if it possesses ten thousand good things, has restricted them to the first age; but this [spiritual wealth] is not so, but it remains also in old age and goes onward even after death. For these reasons you, seeing your substance increasing in old age, and having many justifications for glory and luxury, are vexed, since your age is not sufficient for the enjoyment; for this reason you shudder at death, and are then truly most wretched ^B when you are most esteemed. But he will rest most when he grows old, as one hastening to come into a harbor, and having youth always blossoming, and never hastening toward old age. But you wished your son to enjoy such luxury, by which he would have repented ten thousand times and felt pain when he became old. But may it not be that even your enemies should ever enjoy such things. And why do I speak of old age? For in one day the things of that pleasure are extinguished; or rather not in a day, ^C nor in an hour, but in a small and momentary snap of the fingers. For what is pleasure? Is it not to be gorged, and to be served with Sybaritic tables, and to consort with shapely women just like some swine wallowing in mud?

10. But let us not yet go into that; let us examine pleasure for a while, if it is not something cold and worthless, and if you will, first that which seems to be the sweeter, that of luxury. Therefore, show me the time for this, and how much part of the day it might occupy for you; as much, perhaps, as is not even seen clearly. For as soon as one has been filled, he has extinguished the pleasure; and even before the fullness, it passes more quickly than a stream, disappearing toward the very throat, and not even sufficient to go down with the food; for as soon as it passed the tongue, it also destroyed its strength. And I am silent about the remaining evils, and how much winter arises from this luxury; for not only is he who has not indulged in luxury sweeter, but also lighter, and he will be more easily disposed than he who is torn apart by fullness; for, it says, sleep is of health in a moderate belly (Eccli. 31. 24). What need is there to speak of diseases, nausea, calamities, and expenses made in vain? How many accusations, how many plots, how many assaults from such banquets spring up! But is it sweet to consort with harlot women? And what pleasure could there be with such shame? But especially, let us not examine this here for a while, neither the fights from lovers, nor the wars from rivals, nor the accusations; but let there be someone enjoying that wantonness with authority, and let him have neither a rival, nor be despised by his mistress, and let him spend money as if from springs—although it is not possible for all these things to have happened anywhere, but it is necessary that he who is not going to have a rival must exhaust all his substance, winning over all the others in ambition, and that he who does not wish to be in want must be despised by the harlot and be spat upon as well. Notwithstanding, let there be none of these things, but let all things proceed according to his mind; where do you have to show us the pleasure from these things? For it does not appear even in the time of the intercourse itself, but the one who has fulfilled the intimacy has also extinguished the pleasure, and the one who is in the intercourse is not in pleasure, but

is agitated by movement, by a stinging spur, and by furious and vehement fervor. ^B But our pleasure is not of this kind, God forbid; rather, it keeps the soul void of every disturbance and induces no agitation, but preserves a certain pure and whole joy, and one that is glorious, having no end, and is far more powerful and vivid than yours is. For that ours is more enjoyable than yours is clear: for fear can cast away your pleasure; for if the Emperor threatens death by letter, the greater part of men would abstain from such pleasure. But ours, even if one were to inflict death six hundred times, not only will he not persuade one to despise it, but he will be mocked; to such an extent is our pleasure more violent and at the same time sweeter than yours, and there is absolutely no comparison between the two.

Do not, therefore, envy your son, since he is transitioning from fleeting goods, which do not even exist, to those which are and remain; nor should you mourn him who is to be called most blessed; rather, that man is to be mourned who is not like this, and who in the present life is whirled about as if in a whirlpool. And so that we may come to the point: for even though you are a pagan, you will nevertheless accept this argument of ours. You often hear of Cocytus, and the Pyriphlegethon rivers, and the wave of the Styx, and Tartarus as distant from the earth as heaven is distant from earth, and many modes of punishment. For even if the Greeks were not able to describe these as they truly are, ^C as they were moved by their own reasonings and by the poorly received traditions of our people, yet they obtained a certain image of judgment. And you will find both poets, and philosophers, and orators, and every class of writers philosophizing about this matter. You hear also of the Elysian Plain, and the Islands of the Blessed, and meadows, and myrtles, and a thin breeze, and a most sweet fragrance; and also choirs living there, clothed in white robes, dancing, and singing certain hymns: and, in sum, that a retribution after death is laid up for the evil and the good according to their merits.

With what state of mind, therefore, do you think they live, those who dwell upon such thoughts—whether the good or the evil? Are not the others, even if they spend their present life without sadness and with the greatest pleasure, always stimulated as if by a certain lash of conscience and by the expectation of future evils? The good, truly, even if they are troubled by countless evils, according to Pindar, have a hope by which they are refreshed, which does not allow them back to feel the present evils. So, in this respect too, this pleasure is greater. For it is much better to begin from temporary labors and to end in infinite rest, than to have tasted briefly of things which seem most pleasant, only to fall into most bitter and grievous evils.

But since, in addition to this, it is admitted that that life is also more enjoyable, are not they, as I was saying in the beginning, to be pitied who lament over such blessings? ^D Truly, your son is not worthy of mourning, but of applause and crowns, for he has retreated to a tranquil life and a safe harbor. But very many fathers, whose sons are occupied in the present age, reproach you; and others, when they see him, sympathize with your lot, while others mock. Why do you not mock and deplore them more? For one must not look at whether they mock us, but whether they do so rightfully and justly: and if the matter is so, even if they do not laugh, let us mourn; but if they do so unjustly, even if everyone laughs, we must still deem them blessed and mourn the others, as being the most miserable of all, and no better than the insane. For it is the part of the insane, and of those laboring under such a disease, to mock those things which are worthy of many praises and crowns.

For tell me, I ask you, if everyone were to laud and call you blessed because your son admired the insanity of dancers and charioteers, would you not take that as a cause for derision? What then? If, when you are bringing forth a noble deed worthy of praise, they were to laugh and reproach you, would you not say they were mad? But let us do this now: let us not permit the verdict on your son to be rendered by the opinion of the multitude, but by a diligent examination of the facts: and you will see that those mockers are parents of slaves rather than of free men, if their offspring are compared to your son.

The story of a certain solitary whose father was a pagan

Now furthermore, darkened by sorrow, you will not even be able to look at these things; but when you have settled your mind, and your son has exhibited great virtue, you will no longer have need of the speech of others, but you yourself will say these things and even more to others. And I do not prophesy these things to you rashly, but I have experienced what I speak. For I had a friend who had a father who was an infidel, rich, illustrious, and famous in every way. He first incited the authorities, threatened chains, and left him stripped of all things in a foreign land, in want even of necessary food, thinking in this way to lead him back to the life of the age; but after he saw that he would yield to him in nothing, being overcome, he at last played a palinode, and now he holds his son in honor, and venerates him more than if he were his own father: and though he has other sons, men of high standing, he judges them not even worthy to be slaves of this man; he himself also is now far more illustrious because of his son. We shall see these things also in your son. But that I do not lie, you will see from the facts themselves. Wherefore, I will make an end of speaking, asking only this, that you wait for one year, or even less. For our virtue has need of no many days, seeing that it pullsulates by divine grace: and you will see all things that have been said fulfilled in the deeds themselves; and you will not only praise what has been done, but, if you are willing to rouse yourself ever so slightly, you will quickly be his emulator, having as a teacher in virtue your son.

TO FATHER FIDELIS: BOOK THREE

1. ^A Come now, let us teach a faithful father that he should not contend against those who urge his son to pursue what is pleasing to God. Although this discourse threatens, as it were, to become superfluous for us, and the opposite of what I said before threatens to happen. For previously I said that the law does not compel me to strip for battle against the Greek in this struggle, but that the Apostle Paul, by commanding only that we judge those within, has left us free from the battle against those without. ^B But now, as it seems, we are not even exempt from these struggles; for if even before this it seemed shameful to converse with a Christian about these things, much more so is it now. For how shall a faithful man not collapse, being in need of exhortation concerning those things about which even an unbeliever would have nothing to say against us? What then? Shall we be silent because of this, and say nothing? By no means. For if there were someone who would guarantee the future and make it clear to us that no one would hereafter dare such things, we ought indeed to keep silence and grant forgiveness to the past; but since we have no reliable guarantor for these things, the exhortation of arguments is ^C henceforth necessary. For if it finds those suffering from this disease, it will perform its work; but if no one falls into this weakness, then that which we pray for has happened. For even for physicians, after they have prepared medicines for the sick, it is a matter of prayer that the sufferer not even need them; and we, therefore, pray that none of our brothers has need of this exhortation; but if it should happen—which may it not—the second voyage, according to the proverb, will not escape them. Let even the faithful man be fashioned for us in this respect like the unbeliever, and let everything be similar to him, except for his belief ^D regarding the Divinity; and let him lament similar things and grovel at the feet of all, and let him put forward his gray hair, and old age, and solitude, and let him say all those things, and let him move to anger, as much as he wishes, those who are judging. Nay, rather, for this one also, our judgment is no longer among men; for he has heard all that those filled with the divine Spirit have philosophized among us concerning the terrible and fearful judgment seat, that which is after our departure from here. And before all other things, he must be reminded of that day, and of the river of fire flowing, of the never-extinguished flame, of the vanishing sun, of the darkened moon, of the falling stars, of the heavens being rolled up, of the powers being shaken, of the earth trembling and boiling over from everywhere, of the fearful and successive sound of the trumpets, of the angels running through the inhabited world, of the thousands standing by, of the myriads ministering, of the armies arriving together with the Judge himself, of the sign shining before him, of the throne being set, of the books being opened, of the unapproachable glory, of the fearful and terrible voice of the Judge, sending some into the fire prepared for the devil and his angels, and barring others from the doors, notwithstanding the long labor of virginity, and commanding his ministers—some to bind the tares and cast them into the furnace, others to bind the hands and feet of certain others and cast them into the outer darkness, and deliver them to the incurable gnashing of teeth; and for one, he demands a very harsh and cruel punishment for the sake of lustful eyes alone, for another for the sake of untimely laughter, for another because he condemned his neighbor without examination, for another because he complained; for that a penalty also exists for these things is what one can hear the very One who is to bring the torments saying and threatening. To this Judge, it is necessary for all of us to depart from here, and to see that day on which all things shall be naked and laid bare—I do not mean deeds, nor only words, but the very thoughts themselves.

2. ^A For we shall render an account then even for things that now seem small; so much does the Judge require with the same precision both our own salvation and that of our neighbors. For this reason, Paul everywhere exhorts everyone not to seek his own interest, but that of his neighbor; for this reason, he also severely rebukes the Corinthians, because they did not foresee, nor take care of the one who had committed fornication, but overlooked his wound festering; and writing to the Galatians, he said: "Brothers, if a man is caught in any trespass, you who are spiritual, restore such a one." And to the Thessalonians also, he had previously urged these same things, saying: "Therefore, exhort one another, just as you also do," and again: "Admonish the unruly, comfort the faint-hearted, support the weak." For lest someone say: "What does it matter to me regarding the care of others? Let him who is perishing perish, and let him who is being saved be saved; none of this matters to me; I am commanded to look to my own affairs"—lest someone say these things, removing this beastly and inhuman concept, he built around it these laws, commanding many of his own things to be overlooked so that he might establish those of his neighbors, and he decrees this as a rule of life to be everywhere. And writing to the Romans, he commands that great care be taken of this part, setting the strong over the weak like fathers, and persuading them to be concerned for their salvation. But here he says these things in the order of exhortation and counsel; elsewhere, however, he shakes the souls of his hearers with great intensity; for he says that those who neglect the salvation of their brothers sin against Christ himself, and tear down the construction of God. And he said these things not from himself, but having learned them from the Teacher. For the Son of God…

^A wishing to teach that this offense is necessary, and that he awaits great evils who wishes to cast down this building, said: "Whosoever shall scandalize one of these little ones, it is better for him that a millstone be hanged about his neck, and he be cast into the depths of the sea" (Matt. 18:6). And he who had brought the talent, not because he had neglected anything of his own, but because he had neglected the salvation of his neighbor, is punished with that penalty. ^B So that, even if we regulate our life well, it is of no benefit to us, for that sin is sufficient to plunge us into the depth of hell. For if there is no argument capable of freeing those who have not wished to provide bodily aid to their neighbors, even if they have attained to virginity, but they are to be cast out from the bridegroom's chamber; how is it that he who has omitted that which is far greater—for by far greater is the care of the soul—why shall he not deservedly suffer all evils? For God created man not that he should be sufficient for himself alone, but that he might be of service to many others. For this reason, ^C the apostle Paul calls the faithful "luminaries" (Phil. 2:15), indicating that they must be useful to others; for a luminary, as long as it lights only itself, is not a luminary. Therefore, he says that those who neglect the salvation of their neighbor are worse than even the Gentiles, using these words: "But if anyone does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his own household, he has denied the faith, and is worse than an unbeliever" (1 Tim. 5:8). For what do you wish to be understood in this place by the word "provide"? Perhaps the distribution of necessities? Indeed, I think he signifies the care of the soul itself. But if you dispute this, my opinion will remain even stronger. For if he says these things about the body, and he who does not provide this daily food has condemned him to such punishment, and says he is worse than the Gentiles; in what place, then, shall he be established who neglects that which is greater and more necessary? ^D 3. Come then, let us reason about the magnitude of our sin, and, ascending little by little, we shall show that among all sins, the neglect of children is the preeminent one, and carries the malice to its very peak. Therefore, the first degree of malice, iniquity, and cruelty is to disdain one's friends—but let us bring the discourse down to lesser things; for that was something which I know not how had almost escaped me; that former law given to the Jews does not permit one to neglect even the beasts of one's enemies, whether they have fallen or gone astray; but it orders one to lead them back, and to raise them up. Therefore, the first degree, ascending from the lowest, of malice and cruelty, is to neglect the beasts and cattle of one's enemies when they are suffering harm: the second, higher than that, is to provide for one's enemies themselves in a negligent manner; for by as much as a man is superior to brute animals, by so much is this sin greater than that. The third is to disdain brothers, even if they should be strangers: the fourth, to despise even one's relatives: the fifth, when we neglect them even as not only their bodies, but their souls also are perishing: the sixth, when we neglect not only relatives, but even our own children as they are perishing: the seventh, when we do not even seek others who might be able to care for them: the eighth, when we even hinder and prohibit those who set out to do this of their own accord: the ninth, when we not only prohibit those people, but even attack them. Therefore, if the first, second, and third degree of this malice is followed by such great punishment, and that which surpasses them all—in which you are, namely, the ninth—what kind of fire is destined for it? Nay, not only the ninth, nor the tenth, but you may even rightly and deservedly call it the eleventh. Why this? Because this sin is not only by nature greater than those mentioned above, but it is heavier by reason of time. What does that mean, "by reason of time"? Because for us, doing the same sins as those who were under the Law, not equal punishments are owed, but far heavier ones, by as much as we have obtained a greater gift, have been imbued with a more perfect doctrine, and have been affected with greater honor. Since, therefore, by nature and by reason of time, this crime is most grievous, consider what a flame it will kindle upon the heads of those who dare to perpetrate it. And that I do not reason about this rashly, I will bring an example from the matter itself, so that you may know that, even if we regulate all our own affairs correctly, if we neglect the salvation of our sons, we shall pay extreme penalties. What I am about to bring to you, I do not offer from myself, but it lies in the divine Scriptures. There was a certain priest among the Jews, a moderate and upright man, by the name of Heli. He had two sons: whom, when he saw them declining into vices, he did not restrain, he did not coerce; or rather, he did indeed restrain and coerce, but not with the diligence and care that was right. Now, these were the crimes of those men, fornication and gluttony. For they ate, he says (1 Reg. 2:16), the sacred meats before they were sanctified, and before the sacrifice was offered to God. Upon finding these things out, the father did not punish them with a penalty, but tried to recall them from this wickedness with words and admonitions, and frequently addressed them with these words: "Do not, my sons, do not do so: for it is no good report that I hear of you, that you make the people not serve the Lord. If a man should sin against a man, they shall pray for him to the Lord; but if a man should sin against the Lord, who shall pray for him?" (1 Reg. 2:24). The weight and reverence of these words is indeed great, which could call a man endowed with reason to a better state of mind: for he brings forth the crime, and shows it to be fearful, and denounces the imminent punishments as intolerable and horrendous. Nevertheless, because he did not display everything that ought to have been done, he perished together with them. For he ought to have added threats, to remove them from his sight, to punish them with stripes, and to insist against them much more heavily and harshly. Because, therefore, he did none of these things, he made God his enemy and theirs: and that he might foolishly spare his sons, he lost both their salvation and his own. Hear, then, what God says to him; or rather, not anymore to him, for He did not judge him worthy of a response any longer, but as a servant who had gravely offended Him, he signified the future evils to him through another. So great was the wrath of God then. Hear, therefore, what He says to the disciple about the master, if indeed He was speaking to the disciple and to another prophet, and to all others rather than to him, about his future calamity, to such an extent did He turn away from him at the end. What, therefore, does He say to Samuel? He knew that his sons were cursing God, and he was not admonishing them; not so, however, for he had certainly admonished them, but God did not accept this as an admonition, to such an extent did He disapprove of it, because it lacked vehemence. Therefore, if we provide for our sons, but not as much as

is necessary, this is not provision, just as the admonition of Eli was not. Having stated the crime, He brings the punishment with great anger: For I have sworn, He says, to the house of Eli, if the iniquity of the house of Eli shall be expiated, either by incense or by sacrifices, forever. ^A Do you see the intense indignation and the inexpiable punishment? He says he must be destroyed, and not him alone, nor his sons, but his entire household with him, nor will there be any remedy that will heal this wound. And yet, except for his negligence toward his sons, God had nothing else to reproach in that venerable man at that time, but in all other respects he was admirable, and his philosophy can be seen not only from other things, but also from the events that occurred in this calamity. ^B For first, since he heard all these things, and saw himself having reached the final punishment, he did not fret, he was not indignant, he did not say anything like what many are likely to say: "Am I the master of the will of others? I must give account for my own sins; but the sons have reached the age of maturity, and they would be the ones justly punished alone." He neither said nor thought any of these things; but as a faithful servant, knowing only one thing, how to bear easily what came from the Master, even if it happened to be painful, he spoke words full of great philosophy: "The Lord," he says, "will do what is good before Him." ^C And it is possible to perceive his virtue not only from this, but also from elsewhere. For when war overtook the Jews, since someone came and reported the disasters in the war and how his sons were slaughtered shamefully and miserably in the battle, he remained quiet while hearing these things; but when that man added to this slaughter the capture of the Ark by the enemies, then indeed, the old man, darkened by grief, fell from his seat backward near the gate, and his back was broken, because he was old and heavy and honorable, and he himself judged Israel for twenty years. If they do not demand much exactitude of the priest, the old man, the honorable one, the one who for twenty years presided flawlessly over the race of the Hebrews, who lived in such times, yet nothing was enough to excuse him, but because he did not look after his sons with accuracy, he perished miserably, and the sin of this negligence, like a wild and great wave, overwhelmed all those things and hid all his accomplishments—what judgment will seize us, who live in times that demand much greater philosophy, and who fall short of his virtue, and not only do we not preside over our sons, but we plot against and fight those who wish to do so, and we are disposed toward our offspring more cruelly than any barbarian? ^D For the cruelty of those people stops at slavery and the uprooting and trafficking of the fatherland and the evils of the body, but you enslave the very soul itself, and having bound it like a captive, you hand it over to evil and wild demons and to their passions. For when you neither provide any spiritual advice yourselves, nor allow others who wish to do so, you are doing nothing other than this. And let no one say to me that many who neglected their sons more than Eli suffered nothing like Eli—for many often indeed suffered even more grievous things than these, and because of this very sin. For whence are untimely deaths? Whence are grievous and continuous diseases, both to us and to the children themselves? Whence are losses, whence are hardships, whence are insults, whence are the ten thousand evils? Is it not from neglecting the sons when they are wicked? And that this is not a conjecture, the sufferings of the old man are enough to confirm; but I shall tell you also a word of a wise man among us regarding these things; for one discoursing about children says something like this: "Do not rejoice in ungodly sons; if there is not a fear of God with them, do not trust in their life. For you will groan with untimely mourning, and you will suddenly know their destruction." Many indeed, as I said, have suffered many such things; and if some have escaped, yet they will not escape to the end, but to the harm of their own head; for when they go, they will pay a more bitter penalty there. For why, he says, are not all punished here? Because God has appointed a day on which He is about to judge the world; and this day is not yet here. And besides, if this were happening, our whole race would have been consumed and destroyed beforehand. But so that neither this happens, nor many become more slothful by the delay of the judgment, God, taking some who are liable for sins and punishing them here, teaches the rest through them the measures of the punishments laid out for them, so that they may know that if they do not pay the penalty here, having gone there they will pay a penalty that is certainly more grievous. For we must not be insensitive just because He does not send a prophet now nor foretell the punishment, as in the case of Eli; for it is not a time for prophets, or rather, He sends even now. And whence is this clear to us? "They have Moses and the prophets," He says. For the things said to them were spoken no less to us, and He speaks not only to Eli, but to all who commit the same sins as him, through him and his sufferings. For God is no respecter of persons, nor does He, having overthrown the one who sinned less in such a way along with his whole house, leave those who have committed more grievous sins unpunished.

4. Laws of Educating Children Given by God

^A And he instructs them in many ways to lead them toward the knowledge of God. But he also suggests many things to the children regarding those who begat them, honoring those who are well-disposed and punishing the ungrateful; in this way, he makes them dearer to their parents. For if someone were to establish us as masters of anyone, he would impose upon us, through that honor, the greatest necessity not to neglect him; indeed, if nothing else, the fact that all his interests lay in our hands would be enough to make us compassionate, since we would never be brought to betray what has been entrusted to us. But when, after this, he also becomes angry and indignant—even more so than the children who have been insulted—and adds grievous punishments, he draws them much more to their duty. This is what God Himself has accomplished. ^B To these things, he has added a third bond of nature; or, if you prefer, even a primary one. And as for those fathers who might scorn his admonitions regarding the upbringing of children, he has added the necessity of nature. And lest this bond, becoming weaker through the injuries of the children, should be ruptured, He firmly established it—both its own and the parents' retribution—in this way rendering them subject with the greatest care, and exciting the love of the fathers toward their children.

Nor is this all; but he has also bound us to them with the greatest diligence in a fourth way. For he does not only punish children who are ungrateful to their parents, and embrace the good; he does the very same to the parents themselves, strictly punishing the neglect of their children, and honoring and praising their care and solicitude. For instance, he punished that elder for such negligence, although he was otherwise illustrious, and he honored the patriarch no less for this than for his other concerns. For when he recounted the many and great gifts that he promised to give to him, and added the cause, he appended this: "For I know," he said, "that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the ways of the Lord God, to perform righteousness and judgment" (Gen. 18:19). ^C I mention these things now so that we may learn that God will not take it calmly if those are neglected who are of such great concern to Him. For He Himself cannot act so much for their salvation, and yet take no notice if they are neglected. He will not, therefore, overlook it, but will be indignant and will be vehemently angry, as has been demonstrated by the very facts themselves. For this reason, the blessed Paul constantly admonishes, saying: "Fathers, bring up your children in the discipline and instruction of the Lord" (Eph. 6:4). For if we are commanded to keep watch over their souls as those who must render an account, much more so the father, who begat, who reared, and who ever dwells with him in the house. For just as he cannot flee to excuse or pardon in his own transgressions, so neither can he in those things which his children have committed. And the blessed Paul declares this again (1 Tim. 3:4). For when he was enacting a law as to what sort of men those should be who approach the leadership of others, along with all the other things that necessarily must be in them, he also demands the care of children, as if there were no longer any remaining hope of pardon if they should be perverse; and rightly so. ^D By our own resolve we are made either good or evil. For if vices were in men by nature, one might deservedly flee to an excuse; but since we are made good or evil by our own resolve, what excuse could he possibly offer who permitted the one whom he loves most of all to be perverted and become evil? Or that he did not wish to make him good? But no father would say this, since nature presses upon him, stirring him up to this duty. But perhaps he could not? Neither can this be said; for since he received him tender and as the first and only one in his own power, having been entrusted to him, and with him always dwelling in the house, he could easily and with no trouble moderate him. Therefore, children turn out perverse for no other reason than that fathers are insane regarding the comforts of the present life. For since they look only to those things and deem nothing to be preferred to them, they are forced to neglect both their own souls and those of their children. I would say that these fathers—and let no one think, however, that I am speaking out of anger—are more wicked than the murderers of children. For those separate the body from the soul, but these hand over both soul and body to the fire of Gehenna. Furthermore, it is necessary by natural law to undergo that death, but it was possible to avoid this one, had not the negligence of the fathers brought it upon them. Added to this, the coming resurrection will be able to quickly destroy the death of the body, but nothing will soothe the perdition of the soul; for salvation will not receive it, but it will necessarily pay those immortal penalties. Therefore, we would not be wrong to say that such fathers are worse than the murderers of their children. It is not so cruel a crime to sharpen a sword and arm the right hand and plunge it into the throat of one's son, as to destroy and corrupt the soul; for there is nothing equivalent to this crime.

5. Various degrees of salvation

Does he who inhabits a city, and has a home and a wife, not be able to be saved? Truly, there is not one way of salvation, but many and various. This, indeed, Christ states indefinitely, proclaiming that there are many mansions with the Father; Paul, however, writes with a certain distinction: "There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for star differs from star in glory" (1 Cor. 15:41). He does not stop at the difference here, but shows that in these very things there is a great variety, as great as is fitting to occur in such a great number of stars. "For," he says, "star differs from star in glory." Consider, therefore, descending from the magnitude of the sun to the last of the stars, into how many degrees of dignity it behooves you to descend. How is it not absurd that if you bring a son to the palace, you do nothing but strive and suffer, and induce him to do the same, so that he may be able to be at the king's side, and for that reason avoid nothing—not expense, not dangers, not death itself—but when celestial warfare is proposed for our consideration and pursuit, you do not grieve if he should obtain the last place, and be the very lowest of all? But, if it seems good to you, let us also look at this: whether one who is involved in the midst of worldly things can obtain that lot. The blessed Paul, indeed, has offered a brief judgment on this, and declared that those who have wives can only be saved if...

^A they remain as if they had them not, and do not become abused by the world. But we, if you please, let us inquire into this. Can you say, or did you ever hear a son remind you, or did he observe for himself that even if he swears while being truthful, he still offends God? What of the fact that the one who bears a grudge cannot be saved? “The ways of those who bear grudges,” he says, “are unto death” (Prov. 12: 28). But what of the fact that God has so dishonored the slanderer that He has debarred him even from the reading of the divine words? And what of the fact that He cast out the arrogant and abusive from the heavens, and delivered him to the fire of Gehenna? Or that He punished the one who looks with licentious eyes as if he were already an adulterer? But this sin, which is ready to hand for all—the judging of one's neighbors—and brings upon the one who does it a more grievous punishment, have you ever counseled him to flee this, and have you read to him the laws of Christ concerning these things? Or do you not even know that these things exist at all? How then will the son be able to rectify them, when the father who ought to teach him does not even know the laws? And would that this were the only evil—to counsel them nothing of value; it would not be so great a matter. But now you also push them toward the opposite. For one cannot hear the fathers speaking to their children when they exhort them to study the sciences, but only these same words: “So-and-so,” he says, “was humble and of humble origins; he gained power through his education, attained the highest offices, acquired much wealth, took an affluent wife, built a splendid house, and is now formidable to all and illustrious.” Another, he says, “So-and-so was educated in the Latin tongue, is illustrious in the imperial palaces, and manages and controls everything within.” And another points to another, and all point to those who are well-regarded on earth; but of those in heaven, no one makes mention even once; indeed, if another should attempt to speak of them, he is driven away as one who is overturning everything. ^C 6. Since, therefore, from the beginning you hum these things into them, you are teaching them nothing else but the very root of all evils, instilling two most tyrannical passions: I mean that of money, and the one more lawless than it, that of empty and vain glory. And each of these is, by itself, capable of overturning everything. But when they both descend together into the soul of the young man, which is still tender, like certain torrents joined together, they destroy all the good things, accumulating so many thorns, so much sand, so much refuse, as to make his soul fruitless and barren of all goodness. And the accounts of those outside would testify to us concerning these things; for one of these passions, even not joined to the other, but by itself, one called the acropolis and the other the head of evils. If, even separated, one is an acropolis and one is a head, when it takes on the more grievous and much more powerful one—I mean the mania for glory—and falling with it, the soul is rooted and the young man's soul is preoccupied, who will be able to lever out this disease from now on? And especially when the fathers do not only work to have these wicked plants shaken, but even do and say everything so that they become stable and firm? Who, then, is so senseless as not to despair of the salvation of a child who is instructed in such things? For it is desirable that a soul enjoying the opposite of these things might escape wickedness; but when money is the prize everywhere, and wicked men are proposed for emulation, what hope of salvation is there? For it is necessary that those who love money—and are envious, malicious, inveterate swearers, perjurers, bold, abusive, thieves, shameless, rash, ungrateful—should be full of all evils. And a trustworthy witness of these things is the blessed Paul, who called the love of money the root of all evils in this life (1 Tim. 6: 10). And before him, Christ made this very thing manifest, declaring that it is not possible to serve God for the one who serves that passion (Matt. 6: 24). When, therefore, from the beginning the young man is led into this servitude, when will he be able to become free? When will he be able to withstand the swell, when everyone is pushing him, everyone is drowning him, and subjecting him to the great necessity of being submerged? For if, with no one troubling him, and if with many reaching out a hand, he were able to rise, look around, and wash off the brine ^D of wickedness, would that not be desirable? For if, after a long time of being charmed by divine songs, he might be strong enough to drive away the diseases that have befallen him, should one not praise him and crown him thousands of times? For a habit is a terrible thing; it is a terrible thing for it to take hold of and capture a soul, especially when it has pleasure as its ally, while that toward which we are rushing and struggling to shift our course provides us with many toils. Because of this, God also took the children of the Hebrews—since they had to put off the ancient habit of evils, I mean that in Egypt—apart into the desert, and separated them as far as possible from those who were corrupting them, as in some monastery, the desert, He was molding their souls, putting in motion every path of healing, both the harsher and the more gentle, and leaving out nothing at all of what was needed to be prepared for the healing of them. And not even then did they escape wickedness, but in the midst of the manna they were seeking onions and garlic and all the evils that were in Egypt. Such a great evil is habit! Then, the Jews were enjoying such great care from God, and having such an excellent and noble leader, and being instructed by fear and threats, and by benefits and punishments, and in every way, and seeing such miracles, yet they did not become better; but you, as to your son, while he is young, living in the midst of Egypt, or rather in the middle of the devil's battle line, hearing no one counsel anything useful, seeing everyone leading him toward the opposite, and above all his own parents who begat and raised him, do you think he will be able to escape the snares of the devil? From where? From the things you counsel? But you are calling him toward the opposite, not allowing him to remember philosophy even in his dreams, but by turning the present life and its comforts up and down, you are preparing him to be tossed by the waves even more severely. But perchance from his own self? In the first place, the young man is not capable by himself for the attainment of virtue; but if, after all, he does bring forth something noble, it will be quickly choked off before it can sprout by the downpours of words from you. For just as a body, not enjoying healthy foods but being nourished by unhealthy ones, cannot suffice even for a short time, so also a soul, 359 when it is instituted and steeped in these things, is not able to stand for any time...

but it must needs be that, being slack and flaccid, and held fast by wickedness as if by some pestilence, it should in the end be cast down into Gehenna and to destruction.

7. Parentes sæpe contrariam evangelicæ disciplinam filiis tradunt.

But if you say that this is not so, and that it is possible for one who moves in the midst of worldly affairs to accomplish all virtue, and you do not speak in jest, but in earnest, do not, I pray, begrudge teaching me this new and unheard-of discipline; for I would not wish to assume so much labor for myself for nothing, nor to go without so many good things. But I cannot in any way learn this; for you do not permit it. You oppose this judgment in both your words and your deeds, and you teach the contrary, so that, as if you were studying on purpose to destroy your sons, you thus command them all those things which, for those who practice them, it is impossible to attain salvation. Consider the matter more deeply. Woe, He says, to them that laugh (Luke 6:25); yet you offer them many occasions for laughter. Woe to the rich; yet you strive in every way that they may be wealthy. Woe when all men shall bless you; yet for the sake of popular aura you often pour out all your possessions. Again, he who insults his brother is liable to Gehenna, yet you consider those to be weak and cowardly who bear in silence insults heaped upon them by others. Christ bids us scorn fights and disputes; yet you take care that they be always occupied in these evils. When the eye causes offense, He bids us often to pluck it out; but you reconcile to yourselves as friends those who are most able to provide you with money, even if they teach the most extreme wickedness. He does not permit a wife to be dismissed, except for the sole cause of adultery; yet you, as long as it is possible to acquire wealth, teach them to despise this commandment. He forbids all swearing; yet if you see anyone keeping it, you even laugh at him. He who loves his soul, He says, shall lose it (John 12:25). ^B If you do not remit, He says, to men their sins, neither shall your heavenly Father remit to you (Matt. 6:15); yet you reproach them when they do not wish to take vengeance on those who have harmed them, and you instruct them so that they might be able to perform this promptly. Christ taught those who are lovers of glory that they do all things in vain, whether they fast, or pray, or give alms; yet you leave nothing undone so that they may attain it. But what is the need to enumerate everything, when the things mentioned above are enough to bring upon you countless Gehennas; and not only all together, but each one separately? And yet you, heaping them all together and imposing an intolerable burden of sins, thus send them into the river of fire. When will they be able to obtain salvation, bringing such fodder for the fire? And it is not only this that is grievous, that you teach things contrary to the commandments of Christ, but that you cloak vices with noble appellations: calling the constant attendance at hippodromes and theaters "urbanity," wealth "liberty," the love of glory "magnanimity," audacity "confidence," prodigality "humanity," and injustice "fortitude." Then, as if this deception were not enough, you call virtue itself by contrary names: calling temperance "rusticity," modesty "timidity," justice "imbecility," contempt of pride "a servile spirit," and ^C the endurance of injuries "weakness," as if you feared that if your sons heard the true definitions of these things from others, they might flee such destruction. For it is no small thing to help in the aversion of vices if their own, plain names are brought forward; but this has such strength to strike the souls of those who sin, that most people, often distinguished by the foulest vices, do not willingly bear to be called by them, but are so fierce and indignant as if they were suffering the most bitter things. If anyone calls an adulterous woman or a defiled youth by their most disgraceful acts, he becomes an irreconcilable enemy, as one who has inflicted a great injury. And you may see not only these, but even the miser, the drunkard, the arrogant man, and finally all who have committed the most grievous deeds, not so much pained or grieved by the deed itself and the opinion of the crowd, as by the names of their wicked acts. Furthermore, I have known many to be mended in this way, who became more moderate through such reproaches. But you have removed this solace and remedy; and what is more grievous, you give these lessons to them not only by words, but also by example and by deed, while you build splendid houses, buy the richest lands, and add other magnificent trappings, shading their souls as if with a certain mist. Whence, then, could I be persuaded that they are able to obtain salvation, when I see them being called to those things which Christ declared would certainly lead to perdition for those who do them? When I see you neglecting their soul as if it were something of less value, but taking care of those things which are truly superfluous as if they were necessary and paramount? For you do everything so that your son may have a slave, a horse, and most beautiful clothing; but you do not even wish to consider that he himself should be virtuous: and while you extend this zeal to wood and stone, you judge the soul not worthy even of the least part of your concern. But so that some statue may be erected in the house to be admired, or the roof may be golden, you undergo all labor: yet for the soul, the most precious of all statues, to be made golden, you wish to take no care.

8. In nefarium Sodomiticum scelus invehitur, quod tunc maxime obtinebat.

But I have not yet spoken the conclusion of evils, nor have I uncovered the head of the calamity; which I have often attempted to mention and grew red with shame, and often refrained from shame. What then is that? For it must now be dared and spoken. It would indeed be of great cowardice if, desiring to excise some evil, we did not dare even to mutter about it, as if silence would spontaneously cure the ailment. Let us not, therefore, remain silent, even if we must blush a thousand times. For a physician, when rot must be wiped away, will not hesitate to grasp the iron, and to insert his fingers to the very bottom of the wound. We, therefore, will not refuse to speak of these things, however grievous the rot may be. What then, finally, is this evil? A certain new and most wicked love has broken into our age: a most grievous and incurable disease has rushed in, a plague most terrible of all plagues. A new and intolerable wickedness has been devised. For not only have [written]

the laws of nature been overturned, but also the very practitioners of these acts ^B are unmade. Fornication is now but a small step toward wantonness; and just as in the midst of pains a more tyrannous passion that comes upon one conceals the sensation of the former, so too does the excess of this outrage make the intolerable—that is, the obscenity with women—appear no longer intolerable. For it seems desirable to be able to escape these nets, and the race of women is in danger of henceforth becoming superfluous, with the young men filling the roles of the former for one another. And this is not yet the most terrible thing, but that such filth is ventured with great boldness, and lawlessness has become the law. No one fears or trembles anymore; no one feels shame or blushes; rather, they even pride themselves on this laughter; and those who are temperate appear to be mad, and those who offer counsel seem to be wandering in their minds. And if those who are corrected happen to be weaker, they are beaten with blows; if they are more powerful, they are mocked, laughed at, and washed with countless taunts. There is no longer any profit from tribunals, or laws, or tutors, or fathers, or attendants, or teachers: for some they have managed to corrupt with money, while others look only to how they might receive their wages; as for the more reasonable ones, who care for the salvation of those entrusted to them, some are easily stolen away and deceived, while others fear the power of the profligates. For it would be easier for one suspected of tyranny to be saved than for one who attempts to lead those who have been corrupted to escape the hands of those defiled miscreants; thus, as if in a vast wilderness, in the midst of cities, males commit indecency with males. But if some have escaped these nets, they will with difficulty escape the evil reputation of those who are insulted by such things: first, because they are very few, and by this means would easily be hidden by the multitude of the wicked; second, because those foul and accursed demons [the profligates] themselves, not having any other way to avenge themselves on those who have despised them, strive to do harm in this way. For since they could not strike a mortal blow, nor reach the soul itself, they attempt to wound the ornament that wraps them from the outside, and to remove their entire good reputation. ^C Whence I have also heard many marveling, why even today another shower of fire has not been brought down, why our city has not yet suffered the fate of Sodom, being worthy of such a more grievous punishment, insofar as it has not even been brought to its senses by the disasters of those people. But although the land of those people has already for two thousand years been crying out more clearly than a voice to the entire inhabited world through the sight of it not to dare such things, they have not only become no more sluggish regarding this sin, but even more impudent, as if vying with God and striving to show through their deeds that they will add to these evils in proportion to the severity with which He threatens them. How then has nothing of the sort occurred, but the sins of Sodom are dared, while the fates of Sodom do not come to pass? Because another, more grievous fire awaits them, and a punishment having no end. ^D For since those people dared things far more foul than those who were destroyed by the flood—I speak of those who came after—no such rain has occurred since that time. And here again is the same cause: for why is it that those who were at the beginning, when there were no tribunals, nor the fear of magistrates hanging over them, nor any law threatening, nor a chorus of prophets to provide regulation, nor expectation of Gehenna, nor hope of a kingdom, nor any other philosophy, nor miracles capable of raising even stones—how is it that these men who enjoyed none of these things paid such a penalty for what they sinned, whereas those who have shared in all these things, and live in the midst of such great fear, both of divine and human tribunals, have not yet even today suffered the same things as them, being worthy of a more grievous punishment? Is it not clear even to a child that they are being kept for a more severe judgment? For if we are so angered and indignant, how could God—who more than all else cares for the human race, and who strongly turns away from and hates wickedness—suffer these things to be dared with impunity? This is not the case, it is not; but He will surely lay upon them His powerful hand, and the intolerable blow, and the pain of those tortures, which is so grievous that the sufferings at Sodom, when compared to these, may be thought of as mere play. For what barbarians have these not surpassed, what variety of beasts, through this shameless union? There is in some of the irrational animals a great frenzy, and an intolerable desire, differing nothing from madness; yet they do not know this kind of love, but stand within the limits of nature; and even if they rage a thousand times, they do not overturn the laws of nature. But these, who are supposedly rational and have enjoyed divine instruction, and who prescribe to others what should and should not be done, and who have heard the scriptures that descended from heaven, do not have relations so fearlessly with harlots as they do with the young. For as if there were neither human beings nor God's providence standing over them and judging what happens, but as if darkness had seized everything, and with no one either seeing or hearing these things, they dare everything, and with such madness. And the fathers of the boys who are outraged bear these things in silence, and do not bury themselves together with their children, nor do they devise any consolation for the evil. For if it were necessary to drag the sons away from this plague to a foreign land, if it were necessary to the sea, if to islands, if to an inaccessible land, if to the inhabited world beyond us, ought one not to have done and suffered everything so that these defilements would not come to pass? But if a place were infected and pestilential, would we not take our sons away from there, even if they were going to gain great things, even if they happened to be very healthy? But now, with such a contagion occupying everything, not only do we ourselves drag them into these pits, but we also drive away those who wish to deliver them as if they were destroyers. And how worthy of such great wrath, of such great thunderbolts, are these things, when we strive to cleanse their tongue through worldly wisdom, but as for the soul lying in the very mire of wantonness and rotting throughout, we not only overlook it, but even prevent it when it wishes to rise? Will anyone, then, still dare to say that it is possible for those who are in such evils to be saved? From where? For those who have escaped the madness of the profligates—and these are few—those tyrannical lusts, and those who ruin everything, those who...

^A avoid, while the majority do not escape, and are suppressed/detained even more vehemently by these very things and by the passions of profligate love.

Then, when we desire to hand them over to literary studies, we do not only remove those things which can hinder this instruction, but we also prepare those which can assist it; we provide tutors and masters for them, we spend money, and we grant them leisure from other business, and more frequently than trainers shouting at the Olympic games, we display the poverty which ignorance brings and the wealth which erudition produces, doing and saying everything, both in our own speech and that of others, so that we may lead them to the end of such great solicitude, and yet we do not often succeed in our wish. Yet we shall think that the probity of morals and the care for an honest life will come to them of its own accord, when there are so many and such great things that impede it? What could be more absurd than this, to pursue with such solicitude that which is easier to obtain at a great price, as if it were not permitted to obtain some other thing in another way, and to think that that which is far more difficult will come to us while we sleep, as if it were something of vile value and small moment? For the philosophy of the soul is so much more difficult and laborious than the instruction of letters, by as much as it is more difficult to act than to speak, and by as much as deeds are more laborious than words. ^B

9.

That philosophy is necessary, and the training of morals

What then, you will say, do our children need philosophy and more accurate instruction? For that, that is entirely what has ruined everything, that such a necessary thing, which contains our life, should appear to be superfluous and idle. Certainly, if anyone were to see a child suffering from a bad state of bodily health, he would never say: "What does he need good and firm health for?" but he would contrive everything so that good health might be restored to him, so that the disease might not return later. But when the soul is sick, they say there is no need for treatment—and having uttered these words, they dare to call themselves fathers. What then? they say; shall we all philosophize, and shall all things which pertain to the world go to ruin? Not at all, my excellent sir; it is not philosophy, but the lack of philosophy that has ruined and corrupted all things. Who, I ask, are they who corrupt the present state of affairs? Those who live moderately and uprightly, or those who invent new and wicked modes of luxury? They who strive to take the goods of all for themselves, or those who are content with their own? They who keep phalanxes of domestics and lead around crowds of flatterers, or those who consider that even one servant is enough for them? (for I am not yet speaking of the highest philosophy, but of that which most people can attain); those who are humane and mild, and do not care for the honor of the multitude, or those who demand honor more than all that is due, and afflict with innumerable calamities him who does not rise, who is not the first to greet, who does not bow down, and who does not display all the obsequiousness of slaves? Those who care to obey the rule of others, or those who love magistrates and prefectures, and gladly do and suffer everything concerning this matter? Those who say they are the best of all, and therefore think it is permitted for them to say and do everything, or ^C those who rank themselves among the last, and thus punish the brute power of vices? Those who build splendid houses and set out sumptuous tables, or those who are content with simple food and housing and seek nothing more? Those who furrow countless acres of land, or those who do not consider the possession of even one clod of earth necessary for themselves? Those who, adding usury to usury, approach the unjust path of any trade whatever, or those who tear up such unjust bonds and nourish the needy from their own faculties? Those who consider the vileness of mortal nature, or those who do not even wish to know this, but in their huge arrogance have ceased to think themselves men? Those who nourish harlots and pollute the marriages of others, or those who abstain even from their own wife?

Are not those men indeed like tumors to the body and winds raging at sea, who rise up against the right institution of the world, and by their intemperance cast those who could have attained salvation into the waves? Whereas these, like luminaries shining in the deep darkness, call those who are near to shipwreck in the midst of it to safety, and placing the torches of philosophy lit from high and far away, thus lead those who wish into a tranquil port? Are not, because of the former, seditions, wars, battles, the destruction of cities, chains, slaveries, captivities, murders, and innumerable evils of the age? ^D Not only those which are inflicted by men upon men, but also those which come from heaven, such as droughts, overabundances of rain, earthquakes, ruins, the submersions of cities, famines, pestilences, and all other things which are sent upon us from heaven?

10.

That laws and punishments are necessary for the republic

Therefore, there are those who overturn the republic and bring a plague upon the common good; these are the cause of innumerable calamities for others, who disturb those who desire a more quiet life, dragging them from everywhere and tearing them apart: on account of these there are tribunals, laws, fines, and various modes of punishments; and just as in a house where many lie sick and few are healthy, you might see many medicines and many doctors, so also in the whole world there is no nation, no city, where there are not many laws, many magistrates, and many punishments. For even the medicines themselves cannot by themselves raise up the sick, unless there be those present who apply them; now these are the judges, who compel the sick, whether they will or not, to receive medicine. Yet the disease has so prevailed that it overcomes the very art of the doctors, and has invaded the judges themselves; and the same thing occurs as if someone, seized by a fever, anasarca, and innumerable other more grievous infirmities, were not to overcome his own evils, but were to study to snatch from them others who labored under the same inconveniences. For the flood of wickedness, like a torrent, all barriers having been removed, has been poured out vehemently upon human souls. And what do I say concerning the overturning of right institution? There is danger, indeed, lest that plague, brought in by wicked men, might refute even those things which have been discussed by many concerning the providence of God; it proceeds so far, it increases, it strives to pervade all things, it overturns all things, and finally attacks heaven itself, the [thoughts] of men...

^A not now against their fellow servants, but even now arming against the Master himself who rules over all. For whence, tell me, does the popular talk about fate everywhere arise? Whence do the many attribute existing things to the irrational motion of the stars? Why do some worship fortune, why chance? Whence do they think that all things are carried along aimlessly and simply? Is it because of those who live decorously and moderately, or because of those whom you said steady the state, but I proved to be a common blight upon the inhabited world? Because of those, evidently. For no one is indignant because this person lives a life of philosophy, or because that person is decorous and moderate and sober, and disregards present things; but because this person is wealthy, because he lives luxuriously, because he is greedy and rapacious, because though he is wicked and full of ten thousand evils, he is brilliant and prosperous. These are what those who do not believe in God accuse and complain about; at these the many stumble, whereas on account of those who live decorously, not only would they not utter any of these words, but they would even condemn themselves for being led on to accuse the providence of God. And if all, or even the majority, intended to live thus, no one would have even conceived of these steps, nor would that culmination of evils have entered in: the seeking of "whence come evils?" For if evils did not exist nor appear, who would have been led to seek the cause of evils, and from this seeking to sprout ten thousand heresies? For indeed Marcion, and Manes, and Valentinus, and most of the Greeks took their beginning from this. But if all were philosophizing, it would not be possible to seek these things, but even if they had learned from nowhere else, they would at least have learned from this best way of life that we live under God the King, and that He administers and steers our affairs according to His own wisdom and intelligence; which indeed is moving even now, but is not easily apparent because of the great mist which these people have scattered over the entire inhabited world; but if this were not so, just as in steady mid-day and clear calm, the providence of God would have been manifest to all. For if there were no law-courts, no accusers, no false informers, no tortures and punishments, no prisons and penalties, no confiscations and fines, no fears and dangers, no enmities, no intrigues, no revilings and hatred, no famines and pestilences, nor any other of the enumerated terrors, but all lived with the propriety that is befitting, ^B who of all living would have disputed regarding the providence of God? There is no one. But now, it happens just as if, when a storm had overtaken a ship, the pilot were performing his own duty and saving the vessel, but the precision of his skill were not apparent to the passengers because of the confusion and the fear and the agony of the impending evils. Since God too is steering this whole [world] even now, but is not apparent to the many because of the storm of affairs and the confusion which these people, indeed, produce more than all else. So that they not only overturn the state, but also damage piety; and one would not be wrong in calling these men common enemies, who live against the salvation of others, sinking those who embark with them by filthy doctrines and impure lives.

11.

The life of the monks is compared to that of the angels

I would not have praised those who encouraged them to flee, but would have averted my gaze from them as enemies of the commonweal; for they, by hiding the lanterns and leading the luminaries out of the city into the wilderness, deprive the city of its greatest benefits. But if there is no one who can promise these things, what is the use of sending them to teachers, where they will learn vices before letters, and while they desire to attain the lesser, they lose the greater—namely, the strength and the whole inherent nature of virtue? What then? Shall we tear down all the grammar schools, they say? I do not say this at all, but rather that we should not destroy the building of virtue, nor bury a living soul. For if the soul is temperate, no harm will follow from a lack of letters; but if it is corrupt, it will be the greatest harm, even if the tongue is extremely sharp and polished; and the harm is all the greater, the more the power of discourse is increased. ^A For wickedness, when joined with the faculty of speech, is accustomed to produce much worse evils than lack of learning. "But what if, by going there," someone asks, "besides having a slower tongue, they also fall away from that virtue?" What indeed, tell me, if by remaining here, besides losing their soul, they gain nothing in the way of eloquence in the school? It is surely more fitting for me to say these things than for you. Why? Because even if the outcome of both is uncertain, it is more uncertain on your side. How and for what reason? Because the study of letters requires integrity of character, whereas integrity of character does not in turn require letters. We can exercise temperance without this learning, but no one can ever attain learning without integrity of character, since all his time is consumed in wickedness and licentiousness. Therefore, what you feared there must also be feared here; indeed, it is all the more to be feared here, as often as there is a straying from the goal, and as the issues at stake are greater. And there, one has to worry about only one thing, but here two things are proposed to be attained, so that you cannot get one without the other—letters, namely, cannot be had without temperance. But if you wish—though it is truly impossible—let us grant that it is possible; what good would befall us from this skill, if we were pierced with a lethal wound? Or what evil, truly, from a lack of learning, if we attain what is of greatest importance? ^B These things, indeed, are acknowledged not only by us, who laugh at that external wisdom and think it is folly, but even by the external philosophers themselves. Therefore, most of them did not care much for letters; others despised them entirely and remained unlearned, and by spending their whole lives in that part of philosophy which concerns character, they emerged most famous and renowned. For Anacharsis, Crates, and Diogenes took no interest in this; nay, not even Socrates, as some say, and one who could be a witness for us in this matter is he who far surpassed all others in this art, and who knew the things that concerned such matters far more accurately than the rest. ^C For when he had brought him into court to defend his cause, he introduces him in his apology to the judges as speaking thus: "But you shall hear all the truth from me; not, however, by heaven, O men of Athens, with elegant oratory, as with these men, adorned with words and names, but you shall hear me speaking in ordinary and common terms. For I believe that what I say is just, and let none of you expect anything else. For it is surely not fitting, O judges, at this age for one to come into your presence with words artfully arranged, like a stripling." By saying this, he shows that it was not out of negligence, but because he did not place great value on the matter, that he neither had learned it nor had used it. Therefore, eloquence is not the work of philosophers, nor even of men, but only the rivalry of youths at play, as it even seems to the philosophers themselves; and not only to other philosophers, but even to him who easily surpassed all others; for he does not permit a teacher to be adorned with that, since he deems such an adornment shameful and unworthy of a philosopher. ^D Verily, one might justly have said these things to an unbeliever; nay, rather even more so to a believer. For how would it not be absurd, when even those who seek the applause of the multitude, and can be famous in no other way than by external wisdom, think it is nothing, for us to admire it so much and prize it so highly that we despise things that are most necessary on account of it? To an unbeliever, indeed, these things are sufficient: but to a believer, both these and other examples from our own must be brought forward. What are these? Those great and holy men who were the first, when as yet there were no letters; and those who were after them, when there were letters, but not yet the skill of speaking; and those who followed these, when there were both letters and the skill of speaking.

The lives of holy men

The story of a youth instructed by a monk

^A To this pedagogue I approached (for he happened to be among those who sat upon the mountains), and I endeavored to learn the pretext for why he, having embraced such wisdom, had lowered himself to the life of a pedagogue. He said that a small amount of time remained for him in this duty, and he recounted the whole matter to us from the beginning. To this child, he says, the father is hard and harsh and frantic over worldly affairs, but the mother is temperate, sober, and kind, looking only toward heaven. He, then, as one who has achieved much in wars, wishes to bring his son to the ancestral rank; but the mother neither wishes nor desires this, and in fact prays against it—rather, she prays and desires to see him shining in the monastic life. But she did not dare to say these things to the father; for she feared lest, suspecting this very thing, he might prematurely bind him with the chains of life and, having removed him from this pursuit, lead him to the belt, and provide for him all the slothfulness that follows from that, and make his subsequent correction impossible. She constructs another strategy: having called me to her house, and having shared all these things, and having taken the child's right hand, she places it into my hands. And when I asked for what reason she does these things, she said that this one strategy remained for us for the salvation of the child, if I should be willing and able, having taken the child in the capacity of a pedagogue, to come here; for she would persuade the father that an education in letters is useful to him even if he chooses a military life. If, therefore, I can prevail in this, she says, having him apart in a foreign land, with neither the father nor any of the household troubling him, you will be able to form him with great authority, and, as if he were living in a monastery, cause him to live thus. ^B "But consent and promise to act out this drama with me. The matter is not of trivial importance to me; the struggle and the risk are for the soul of my child. Do no disregard the one most dear of all to me who is in danger, but rescue him now from the traps, the storm, and the surging swell surrounding him on all sides. If you are not willing to bestow this favor, I call God now to be between us, and I testify that I have left nothing undone of what pertains to the salvation of this child’s soul, but I am clean from the blood of this child; but if it should happen that he suffers anything, as is likely for one who is young and living in such luxury and sloth, God will exact the soul of this child from you and from your hands." Having added these and more words than these, and having wept vehemently and pitifully, she persuaded me to undertake this business, and she sent me away with these instructions. And her strategy did not become vain; but in such a short time that noble man trained this boy, and kindled such a fire of this desire in him, that he suddenly cast everything aside, and ran to the desert, and stood in need of another bridle—one that could turn him back from that intense exercise to a measured one. For there was fear that by this zeal he might reveal the drama ahead of time, and stir up a harsh war against the mother, the pedagogue, and the monks everywhere. For if his father had perceived this flight, he would not have ceased moving everything to drive out those holy men, not only those who received him {the boy}, but all the others as well. ^C This boy, therefore, having taken him, and having said these things and more than these, I allowed the desire for this philosophy to remain, and I even intensified it, but I requested that he live in the city and hold fast to the pursuit of studies; for thus he would both benefit his peers most greatly, and escape the notice of his father. I deemed this to be necessary, not only for the sake of those holy men, nor for the mother, nor for the pedagogue, but for the child himself. For at the beginning, were the father to set upon him, it would be likely that the plants of philosophy would be shaken, being tender and just planted; but if a long time passes, and they should root well, I trusted strongly that not even any such thing occurring would be able to harm the son; which indeed happened, and I did not fall short of my hope. For when his father attacked later, after much time had passed, and having struck with a vehement rush, he not only did not cause the building to lean in the least, but showed it to be even stronger; and of those who were fellow students with him, many profited so much from his conversation as to come to the same zeal as him. For having at home the one who was always regulating him, just as a statue constantly enjoying the hand of the artist, so he received an increase day by day of the beauty of the soul. And what is wonderful, appearing outside, he seemed to differ in nothing from the many; for he had neither a savage and hardened character, nor an altered dress, but was common in his form, and in his gaze, and in his voice, and in all other things. Whence he was even able to take many of those who conversed with him inside his nets, having much philosophy hidden within. At home, if anyone saw him, he would have thought him to be one of those who sat in the mountains; for his house was arranged to the strictness of an entire monastery, having nothing beyond the necessities. And all his time was spent on the reading of holy books; ^D for being quick to take in lessons, he assigned to the education from without a small part of the day, but all the rest was devoted to continuous prayers and divine books, and he continued the entire day without food—or rather, not even one, nor only two, but even more. And nights as well helped him in these things, tears, and prayers, and such reading. All these things the pedagogue secretly reported to us; for the boy was unbearable if he ever sensed that any of these had been revealed. This {pedagogue} said, therefore, that he had even made for himself a hair shirt, and with this he had completed the strictness of the monks, and he praised God constantly, having found that one who was so light... [original-script column: see facsimile]

and to whom it was permitted to escape the cruelty, could not defend himself, but lies there and receives thousands of wounds, and makes others even weaker, and lets this man be cut to pieces in the midst, when he ought to have pulled him away from the battle. For even a general would be rightly punished who leads those who are able to fight away from the battle line, while ordering the wounded and fallen, who are a hindrance to the others, to remain in the midst all the time.

^B 13. But because many of the parents are pressing their sons in the desire to see them living in eloquence, knowing strictly that they will surely attain the goal of their words, and regarding this we are not contentious, nor do we say that he will miss the mark, but let us concede that they will obtain the fruit of their study and will reach the height. Let there be before us, then, a double choice: one to go to a schoolmaster to pursue learning, another to seek the wilderness to care for the soul; which is the better to choose, tell me, to prevail? For if both situations should happen, I also desire it; but if one must be left behind, it is better to choose the superior. Yes, you say, but from where will it be clear to us that he will persist and remain and will not fall? For many have fallen. But from where is it clear that they will not persist and remain? For many do persist, and indeed more than those who fall; so that one should be more confident for the sake of these, than afraid for the sake of those. And why do you not fear the same thing regarding the study of words, where it is most to be feared? For among the monks, from many, few have fallen; but in the schools of the liberal arts, from many, few attain skill. ^C And not from this only, but also for many other causes, one should be more afraid in this part. Since both the dull intellect of boys, and the ignorance of masters, and the negligence of attendants, and the carelessness of a father, and the lack of fees and rewards, and the difference of manners, and the wickedness of fellow students, and jealousy and envy, and many other things, disturb them from reaching the end. And not these things only, but after the end of their studies, other and more numerous obstacles occur. For after he has surpassed all these and escaped the obstacles and arrived at the very height of education, there are again other snares laid. For the hatred of a prince, and the envy [of those] in company, and the difficulty of the times, and the lack of friends, and poverty, often exclude him from the end. But among the monks, nothing is similar; but there is need of one thing only, namely, noble and excellent alacrity; which if it be present, nothing hinders [one] from reaching the end of virtue.

14. How the monastic life is more stable than the secular life.

How then would it not be unjust, where the hope of good things is manifest and near, to despair and tremble; but where another hope is contrary, most remote, and intercepted by many obstacles, not to despair, but rather to propose for oneself the greatest hope for a very difficult matter? ^D And in the study of words, not to consider the sad things that happen most frequently, but the good things that happen rarely; but regarding the state of the monks to do the opposite, and where there are many hopes of good things, to look only at the sad things; but where the matter concerns a contrary hope, to consider only the good things? Although there, it often happens that when all things that ought to conspire for a wish have happened, a premature death snatches the athlete away, after infinite sweats, not yet crowned; but here, even if that should happen in the midst of the contests, then most brilliantly and crowned he shall depart. Therefore if you fear the future, it is most to be feared regarding the study of words, where there are many things to hinder one from reaching the end. But you, while residing there, and sustaining long delays, do not look to the things placed in the middle—the expenses, the troubles, the uncertain event—but only look to the end; yet here, when the boy has not yet entered the vestibule, nor touched this most beautiful philosophy, do you immediately fear and tremble, and admit desperate thoughts? ^A And yet, you were saying a little before: "What then? Can he who occupies a city and a house not attain salvation?" Therefore, if you can attain salvation with a city, house, and wife, much more so without a wife and other such things. For it is not the act of the same person to trust that [salvation] can be acquired even if he is entangled in worldly business, but now, even if he has escaped from everything, to tremble and fear, as if he could not live properly without them. For if he who occupies a city can obtain salvation, as you say, much more can he who spends his time in the wilderness. Why then do you fear that he cannot here, whereas there you do not fear, where it would be more appropriate to fear?

15. But, you will say, it is not an equal crime for a secular person to sin, and for him who has once consecrated himself to God; for they do not fall from the same height, wherefore their wounds are not equal. You deceive yourself entirely if you think that one thing is required of a secular person, and another of a monk. The difference between them, indeed, is this: that one takes a wife, and the other does not; but for all other things, both are about to render a common account. For he who is angry with his brother without a cause, whether he be a secular person or a monk, offends God similarly; and he who looks at a woman to lust after her, in whichever state he may be, will be punished by the same penalty of adultery; ^B or rather, if one may add something by reasoning, the secular person who does this is less worthy of pardon. For it is not an equal crime for him who has a wife and enjoys this consolation, to be led away by the beauty of a woman, or for him who is entirely deprived of that help to be overcome by that evil. Again, he who swears, in whatever state he may live, is condemned in a like manner. For Christ, when He was establishing this and setting down the law, did not make this distinction, neither did He say, "If he who swears is a monk, the oath is from the evil One; if he is not a monk, it is not so"; but simply and once for all He said to all: "But I say to you, do not swear at all" (Matt. 5.34). And again when He says, "Woe to those who laugh" (Luke 6.25), He did not add, "to the monks," but simply thus He brought the law to all. And so He did also in all other great and wonderful precepts. For when He says (Matt. 5.3-12), "Blessed are the poor in spirit, the mourners, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who suffer persecution for righteousness' sake," and all the unspeakable things for His sake, hearing them from outside

^A nor does it attach the name of a layman or a monk; rather, this distinction has been introduced by the minds of men. But the Scriptures know nothing of these things, but wish all to live the life of monks, even if they should happen to have wives. Hear, then, what Paul also says; and when I say Paul, I speak again of Christ. This man, then, writing to men who have wives and are rearing children, demands of them all the exactness that is appropriate for monks. For, cutting away all luxury, both that in clothing and that in food, he writes these words: "Wives in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety adorn themselves, not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array" (1 Tim. 2:9); and again, "But she that liveth in pleasure is dead" (1 Tim. 5:6); and again, "Having food and raiment, let us be therewith content" (1 Tim. 6:8). What more than this could one demand of those who are monks? And instructing others in the restraint of the tongue, he again lays down precise laws, and such as it is a task for monks to accomplish. For he removes not only filthiness and foolish talking, but also jesting; he cuts off not only wrath and anger and bitterness, but also clamor from the mouth of the faithful. "Let all," he says, "bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice" (Ephes. 4:31). Do these seem small things to you? Then wait, and you shall hear things far greater than these, which he ordains for all regarding long-suffering. "Let not the sun," he says, "go down upon your wrath" (Ephes. 4:26). See that none render evil for evil unto any; but ever follow that which is good, both among yourselves, and to all men (1 Thess. 5:15). And again: "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good" (Rom. 12:21). Did you see how it mounts up to the very summit of philosophy and the intensification of long-suffering? Hear also what he ordains concerning love, the head of all good things; for having extolled it and spoken of its achievements, he showed that the same which Christ demands of the disciples, He demands of those in secular life. For as the Savior said that this was the final limit of love, that one lay down his soul for his friends, so also Paul hinted this same thing by saying: "Love seeketh not her own" (1 Cor. 13:5), and bids to pursue such a love. So that even if this alone had been said, it was a sufficient proof that the same things are demanded of those in secular life as of monks. For this is the bond and the root of much virtue; but now he also lays it out in detail. What, then, more than this philosophy could one seek? For when he orders one to be above anger, and wrath, and clamor, and the love of money, and gluttony, and luxury, and vainglory, and other secular things, and to have nothing in common with the earth, when he commands to mortify the members, it is evident that he requires of us the same exactness that Christ required of the disciples, and wishes us to be so dead to sins, as those who have already died and been buried. For this is why he says: "For he that is dead is justified from sin" (Rom. 6:7). And there is a point where he brings us even to the zeal for Christ through exhortation, not to that of the disciples only. For when he exhorts to love, he brings the examples from thence, and when to be long-suffering, and when to be moderate. When, therefore, he commands not only monks, nor only the disciples, but even ^B himself to be imitated, namely Christ, and sets the greatest punishment for those who do not emulate Him, whence did you say that that height was greater? For it is necessary for all men to ascend the same height; and this is what has overturned the whole world, that we think a greater exactness is required for the monk alone, and that it is permitted to others to live slothfully. For it is not so, it is not so, but we are all required, he says, to follow the same philosophy; and I would vehemently affirm, or rather not I, but He Himself who is about to judge us. But if you still marvel and are in doubt, come, let us draw for you once more from the same springs, so that the total corruption of your unbelief may be washed away. I will make the demonstration from the punishments of that day. The rich man was not punished more severely because he was a monk—it was not he who was a monk—but, if one must say something after discovering it, because, being a secular man and living in wealth and purple, he disregarded Lazarus in extreme poverty. Yet I will not say even this, nor that, but only that because he was cruel, for this reason he lay being punished more severely in the fire. And the virgins, because they failed in philanthropy, for this reason they were driven from the bridal chamber; and if some point must be made for ourselves, not only were the torments of punishment not intensified for them because of their virginity, but perhaps they even became milder because of it. For they did not hear, "Depart into the fire prepared for the devil and his angels," but only, "I know you not" (Matth. 25:41). And if anyone says this is the same as that, I will not gainsay it. For what I am striving to show now is that the life of monks does not make the punishments more grievous, but that those in secular life are liable to the same, since they commit the same sins as them. And he who was clothed in filthy garments, and he who demanded the hundred denarii, were not suffering what they suffered because they were monks; but the one perished because of fornication, and the other because of malice. And if one were to examine the others who were being punished at that time, he will see them bearing the punishment solely because of their sins. And one might find this not only in the punishments, but also in the admonitions. For when He says: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls" (Matth. 11:28); He is not speaking only to monks, but to the whole nature of men. And when He commands to travel along the narrow way, He does not extend the word only to these, but to all men; and to hate one's own soul in this world, and all other such things, He commanded to all alike. But when He does not speak to all and issue a law for all, He makes it clear to us. For when He was speaking about virginity, He added: "He that is able to receive it, let him receive it" (Matth. 19:12), neither adding "all," nor bringing this in the form of a command. So also Paul; for he appears everywhere to be imitating the Master, and regarding this...

^A point, I do not believe that even a very contentious or shameless person would henceforth deny that both the secular person and the monk must reach the same summit, and that both, should they fall, will receive the same wounds. Let us now examine which of them is more easily liable to fall. Indeed, there is no need here for investigation; for the man who has a wife will certainly maintain continence more easily, inasmuch as he enjoys much consolation; but in other respects the matter is not so clear. Yet in that regard, too, we see more of those who are married falling than of the monks. For not as many depart from the monasteries to marriages as do from the conjugal bed to harlots. But if, where the contests are easy for them, they fall so excessively, what will they do in other ^B passions, where they are more troubled than the monks? For desire indeed stings the latter more vehemently, since they have no association with women. The other things, however, can scarcely approach them, whereas they attack the seculars violently and cast them down from the very peak. But if, where the war breathes more fiercely, the monks prevail, in contrast to those who do not undergo this, it is evident that in other matters—where they are not troubled—they will stand firmly. For the love of money, and the desire for luxury, for power, and for all other such things, are more easily overcome by them than by seculars. If, therefore, we speak of this part of the war as being lighter—not that in which one falls after another in frequent succession, but that in which they are few and rare—it is ^C right to pass judgment on these matters in the same way. For not the man who is involved in the center of affairs, but he who resides in the mountains, will more easily overcome avarice. For the former will certainly be captured with little effort; whereas he who is seized by avarice must be numbered among the idolaters. And the monk will not despise his relatives and family if he has money, but will pour it out upon them lavishly; the secular, however, will not only despise them, but will also harm them no less than he would strangers. This is surely another kind of idolatry, far graver than the former. Is there any need to recount all the other things which, while they are more easily ^D overcome by monks, cast down the seculars with violence? Why then do you not fear, why do you not tremble, while living this life where you will be quickly captured by wickedness? Does it seem to you a small thing to be held by idolatry, and to be worse than the infidels, and to deny the service of God by one’s deeds, all of which those who are addicted to the secular life will endure more easily than the monks? Do you see that this fear is a mere fiction? For if there were cause for fear, it would certainly not be for those who flee the storms, nor for those who hasten to the harbor, but for those who are tossed about by the storm and tempest. For shipwrecks are to be feared sooner from that side, because the disturbances are more numerous, and they who ought to resist are more slothful. Here, however, there are not so many waves, but there is great tranquility and greater diligence from those who ought to fight against those things. Wherefore we draw them into the desert, not so that they may be clothed in sackcloth, nor so that they may strew ashes, but first and foremost so that they may flee from vices and choose virtue. What then? Will all who are married perish? Seculars are saved with greater difficulty. I do not say that, but that they are subject to greater labors if they wish to attain salvation, and that because of the imminent necessity. For the man who is unencumbered will run more easily than the man who is bound with chains. Therefore will he be gifted with greater rewards and more illustrious ^B crowns? By no means; for he imposes this necessity upon himself when it was permitted not to impose it. And so, since, as has been clearly demonstrated by us, we are subject to the same obligations as the monks, let us walk the easier path, and let us draw our children to it; let us not submerge them, nor cast them down into the chasms as if we were enemies and foes. For if any others were to do this, it would not be quite so grave. But when the parents themselves, who have received the experience of all secular affairs, who have learned by their own works that the pleasure of present things is altogether cold, are so insane as to drag others to those same things, because they themselves are now prevented by age from enjoying them—when they ought to have declared themselves wretched because of what they went through; they, on the contrary, being now close to death and to the tribunal, and the punishments assigned to them, yet cast others down; what excuse will be left to them, what pardon, what mercy? For they will pay the penalty not only for their own sins, but also for those things which they have dared against their children, whether they have been able to trip them up or have not been able. h 16. That he is truly a father who cares for the salvation of his son, and that we must not seek for grandchildren before we have ourselves become parents in Christ. You desire to see your children's children. And how [can you desire] that, when you are not yet yourselves fathers? For generation does not make a father; which parents themselves also admit, who, when they see their children having sunk into the extreme of wickedness, cast ^C them off and disown them as not their own; neither nature, nor generation, nor anything similar can hold them back. Let them not, therefore, deem themselves worthy to be called fathers of those to whom, according to the standard of philosophy, they are far inferior; but when they have generated them in this way also, then let them seek grandsons: for then only will they be able to see them. For they have children—they do indeed have—not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but born of God Himself (John 1:13). These children, moreover, would not bring grief to their parents for the sake of money, not for the sake of marriage, nor for any other such thing, but, being dismissed free from every care, they afford them greater pleasure than if they were their natural fathers. ^D For they are not generated and nurtured in the same way as the others, but much more excellently and splendidly; wherefore they afford the parents greater pleasure. I shall add this besides, that it is no wonder if those who do not believe in the resurrection grieve over these things, since this is the only consolation left to them. But we, who think of death as sleep, who have been taught to despise all present things, with what plea shall we be worthy, if we grieve over these things and desire to see children, and to leave them here, from whence we ourselves are hurrying to depart—and while here, we groan! And these things have been said for those who are more spirited toward the flesh and very much attached to the present life.

If, however, someone should say, “But what if they are lovers of the body, and are deeply addicted to this age?” I would say to them, first, that it is uncertain if children will even follow the marriage; second, that if they are born, the anxiety is greater: for we do not reap as much joy as we do grief from the daily cares, the agony, and the fears on their account. And to whom, you say, shall we leave the fields, the houses, the servants, and the gold? For I hear them lamenting even about these things. To him who is about to inherit them even before these things, and who will be a much safer guardian and master of them now than before. For then, there were many things that ruined them for them—for there were moths, and long time, and thieves, and informers, and envious people, and the uncertainty of the future, and the instability ^A of human affairs, and finally death itself, which would have deprived the son of these riches and these possessions. But now, he has deposited the wealth above all these things, having found a place that is inviolable, and where it is not permitted for any of those things mentioned to tread. For such a place is heaven, being inaccessible to any intrigue, and more fruitful than all the earth, providing with much abundance the fruits to those who have set aside their riches there, so that they may harvest them. So it was not these things that ought to have been said now, but if the child was going to be a man of the world, then one should lament and say these things: “To whom do we leave the fields, to whom the gold, to whom the rest of the riches?”

For now, the abundance of ownership is such that ^B not even after the departure from here does one fall away from their lordship, but rather one then enjoys their profit most especially, when we depart from here. But if you wish to see him as a master even here, one might see this happening more with the monk than with the man of the world. For tell me, who is the more master? He who spends and gives with great freedom, or he who does not dare even to touch them on account of stinginess, but buries them, and refrains from his own things as if they were another’s? He who spends in vain and without purpose, or he who does this duly? He who sows the earth, or he who does this in heaven? He who is not allowed to give all of his own to whomever he might wish, or he who is released from all those who demand such contributions? For to the one who is farming and ^C engaging in business, many stand around from all sides, compelling him to pay taxes, and each demanding his own share; but to the one desiring to spend upon the needy, no one will appear from anywhere threatening such things; so that even here, this man is more the master. Or if he spends on harlots, and his belly, and parasites, and flatterers, and brings shame upon his own glory, and loses his salvation, and becomes ridiculous, do you say he is the master of what is spent? But if, to true glory and usefulness and what is pleasing to God, he spends them with much understanding, is he no longer so? Therefore, you would be doing something akin to this: as if you were to say that someone who is casting his own things into sewers is the master, but you lament for one who is doing this for necessary needs, as though he had no authority over what is being spent. ^D Nay, rather, one ought to compare such men not simply to those who spend, but to those who do so to the detriment of their own heads. For those expenditures make one more brilliant, more affluent, and more safe, but these are not only shameful and reproachful, but also liable to destruction in every way.

17. But what, you say, after marriage and children, is it not possible to take hold of this philosophy, having arrived at old age?

^A And since they are in the midst of the fray, you drag them into the center, as if the matter were already concluded and they had acquired strength, not allowing them to depart into the desert to be trained and to prepare themselves for the battle. It is as if someone, having the power to set up thousands of trophies, were to order him to meditate upon and learn the art of war in quiet, whereas the inexperienced man, who could not even look upon the battle, he would order to commit himself to the fight and would place only greater obstacles before him, because the task is difficult.

Beyond these things, one must also know this: that it is not permitted for someone after marriage to be his own master, but there is a necessity for one of two things: either to be in constant conversation with his wife—if she chooses—or, if she wishes to live in continence, to be dismissed and fall into adultery. ^B Why is there any need for me to mention other bonds of necessity, children, and cares for the household, which can blunt every eagerness of purpose and infuse much torpor into the soul? Therefore, it is far better to train him who is his own master and free from the earliest age, not only on account of these things that have been said, but no less so for the reason that will be mentioned soon. For he who approaches this philosophy toward the end of his life consumes all his time in trying to wash away the sins committed in his past life, and his whole study is expended on this; and it often happens that he does not have enough time, and he departs from this life carrying the remnants of his wounds. But indeed, he who strips himself from his earliest age does not squander his time on this, nor does he sit tending his wounds, but from the beginning he receives prizes. ^C And for that man, it is enough to enter the battle just to repair his losses; but this one, from the very beginning of the race, erects trophies and adds victories to victories, just like an Olympic victor who, from his earliest age, having progressed through the proclamations of victory all the way to old age, finally departs crowned with countless garlands on his head.

Of whose number, then, do you wish your son to be? Of those who can gaze upon the archangels themselves with great confidence, or of those who stand in the crowd and keep the last rank? For they will surely be allotted the last rank, if they are able to run through all the obstacles that I have just enumerated: if, indeed, neither a premature death snatches them away, nor they are hindered later by a wife, nor they have received so many wounds that even the whole time of old age is not enough to heal them, and if they keep their resolution firm and immovable. For when all these things have concurred, then they will barely occupy the last places. ^D Are you, then, willing for your son to be of the number of these, or of those who will shine in the front of the phalanx? Who, you will say, is so miserable that he would prefer those things rather than these for his children? But we follow custom, and we want them to be with us. This very thing I also understand, and I desire no less than you parents that they should return to their paternal home and repay their parents with the return of sustenance—a return for which they would never find the like. But let us not demand this from them now. For how would it not be absurd if, when we send them for the study of letters, we keep them far from their country for a long time; and if, in order that they may learn some mechanical art, or another of the baser sorts, we forbid them the entrance into their own home and bid them dine and sleep in the master’s house; but when they are about to approach not some human discipline, but celestial philosophy, we immediately pull them back before that which we desire has happened? And that one, indeed, who is taught to run along a stretched rope will be away from home for a long time; but those who are learning to fly from earth into heaven, shall we shut them in with their parents? What could be worse than this absurdity? Do you not see husbandmen, even if they are eager to reap the fruit of their labors, yet they never reap them before they are ripe?

On the need to dedicate oneself to virtue from an early age

Therefore, let us not drag our sons away from the sojourn of the desert before the time; but let us allow the disciplines to be impressed more deeply and the plants to be firmly rooted. Even if it should be necessary for them to be nourished in the monastery for ten, or even twenty years, let us not be troubled, nor let us be affected with grief; for as much as he is exercised longer in the gymnasium, by so much the more will he acquire strength. Nay, if you please, let us not define the time, but let the limit be only that which can bring the planted fruits to maturity; then let him return from the solitude, but not before. For that haste will profit us nothing, unless it be that he never reaches maturity. For he who is deprived of the food of the root before the time will certainly not be useful even when the time arrives. In order that this may not happen, let us bear that separation patiently; and not only let us not urge them, but if they wish to return prematurely, let us forbid them: for perfect gain will then accrue both to the father and the mother and the house and the city and the nation. If, however, he returns imperfect, he will be ridiculous, exposed to reproach, and harmful to others. Let us not, therefore, be the authors of such detriment. For when we send our sons abroad, we then only wish to see them when they have achieved that for the sake of which they departed; if they return earlier, we do not receive as much pleasure from their return as we do grief from the fact that they have returned in vain. Who, therefore, would not be of supreme stupidity, not to apply as much care in spiritual matters as in secular ones; and there, indeed, to bear the separation of children so philosophically that we wish it to be longer, if it is a question of something useful; but here, to be so soft and broken in spirit when they depart, that through this pusillanimity of ours we destroy many good things: and this, when we have more consolations, not only because they are betaking themselves to greater things and will completely attain the end, and there will be no obstacle to their hope, but also in what pertains to the separation itself? For if they set out on a long journey, it is not easy to visit them, especially when the parents have reached old age; but here it is allowed to visit them frequently. Let us do this, therefore, when they are not yet unto us

[...so that our joy may not be confined to the beloved children alone, but we ourselves, having reaped the greatest fruits, shall return to the house; and often we shall also remain with them, captured by the love of philosophy. ^A Then, therefore, let us summon them, when they have become strong and are able to profit others; then let us draw them, so that the light may become common, so that the lamp may be placed upon the lampstand. Then you shall see whose children you are, and whose children those are whom you call blessed; then you shall know the profit of philosophy, when they heal men suffering from incurable diseases, when they are proclaimed as common benefactors, patrons, and saviors, when they walk among men on earth as angels, when they are looked upon by all; or rather, whatever we might say, there is nothing like what can be seen from experience itself and from the deeds. ^B These things the lawgivers also ought to have done, if anything of what was necessary were being accomplished; not to threaten the young when they have become men, but to regulate and mold them while they are children; and there would have been no need of threats thereafter. But now, the same thing happens as if some physician should say nothing to a patient who is suffering, nor point out the means by which he will be delivered from the disease, but when he has already been corrupted and is in an incurable state, should then impose ten thousand laws. For even lawgivers instruct us only when we have already gone astray. But Paul is not so; but from the beginning, and in the first age, he sets over them instructors of virtue, preventing vice from entering. ^C For this is the best teaching: not to allow wickedness to prevail first, and then to seek how we might drive it out, but to do and strive for everything so that our nature might become inaccessible to it. Therefore, I exhort you not only to prevent others who wish to do this, but also yourselves to take a hand, and to save the ship, and to prepare it to sail with a following wind. For if we had all accepted this resolve, and were guiding them into virtue before all other things—considering this the primary work, and all other things as secondary—the good things would have been as numerous as those which I would now appear to be exaggerating by saying. But if anyone wishes to learn, he will know well by the deeds, and he will profess much gratitude to us, and much more to God before us, seeing the commonwealth of heaven blossoming upon the earth, and the accounts of the good things to come, and of the resurrection, already proven from this life, even among the unbelievers.

19. And that these are not mere boasts, it is clear from this: for when we speak to them of the way of life of those who are in the deserts, they have nothing to say against it, but they appear to insist and contend based on the scarcity of those who attain it. ^D If we had planted this fruit in the cities, and the order of good conduct had taken some law and beginning, and we had instructed our children to be friends of God before all other things, and taught them spiritual lessons instead of all other things and before all other things, all grievous things would have fled away, and the present life would have been delivered from ten thousand evils, and we would have all reaped from here what is said concerning the life to come, that "sorrow and pain and sighing fled away." For if neither the love of money nor of empty glory entered us, nor did we fear death, nor poverty, nor consider being treated badly to be a loss, but rather a great gain, and knew not how to bear malice nor to hate, we would never have been warred upon by our own passions, nor by those of others, but the race of men would have been close to the angels themselves. And who among men has accomplished these things, he asks? You are rightly skeptical, inasmuch as you dwell in cities and have not occupied yourself with the divine books; but if you had known those who are in the deserts, and those who were in the spiritual books of old, you would have learned that even the monks, and the apostles before them, and the righteous before them, displayed this philosophy with all precision. ^A And so that we may not contend with you, let us allow your son to be of the second or third rank from those; for neither will he thus enjoy small blessings. He does not manage to reach Peter, nor Paul, nor even to become close to them; shall we therefore deprive him also of the honor that follows them? For you do the same thing by saying these things, as if you were to say: "Since you cannot become a precious stone, let iron remain, and let it not become silver, nor gold." Why do you not hold this same reasoning also in external affairs, but the opposite? For when you send him to the learning of rhetoric, you do not expect that he will necessarily be seen among the best, but yet you do not on account of this lead him away from the diligence concerning these things, but you provide everything from yourself, deeming it acceptable if it happens that your son becomes fifth or tenth from the best in the power of rhetoric. And when men serve as soldiers for the king, do you not expect that they will necessarily ascend to the chair of the prefects? But yet you do not order them to loosen their belt, or not to set foot in the palace at all, but you manage everything so that they should never fall away from the life there, deeming it sufficient to see them numbered even in the middle ranks. ^B For what reason, then, there, even if it is not permitted to grasp the greater things, yet you toil and suffer for the lesser things, and even with the hope being uncertain in these, while here you are sluggish and pull back? Because you have great desire for those things, but not even a slight one for these; then, ashamed to admit this, you have invented excuses and pretexts; as if you truly wished it, none of these things would have hindered you. For it is thus: whatever a man happens to desire genuinely, even if he does not attain the whole, nor the highest, he would rather choose to attain the middle, or rather, even ten thousand times more, that which follows after. ^C For the lover of wine and the drunkard, even if it is not permitted to obtain the sweet and fragrant wine, will never scorn the cheapest; and the lover of money, again, even if someone provides him not with precious stones, nor gold, but silver, will acknowledge great gratitude. Such a thing is desire, a tyrannical thing and sufficient to persuade everyone who has been captured to both suffer and endure anything for the sake of it; so that if these words were not a pretext, you ought to have cooperated and labored together. For the duty of one who desires something to come to be is not to prevent it from happening, but to do everything so that it might come to be. For instance, those who enter into the Olympic games, knowing that...

only one out of such a great multitude will be the victor, work and toil regardless; although the situation is not the same here, not only because of the outcome of the contests, but because there it is necessary for only one to go away crowned, whereas here, the superiority and the lower condition do not lie in the fact that one goes away crowned and the other not, but that one receives a more splendid, the other a lesser, acclamation, yet all obtain one. ^A In sum, if we were willing from the beginning to train our children, and to entrust them to those wishing to educate them, it would be possible for them to stand in the first rank of the camp; for God would not scorn such eagerness and zeal, but would stretch out His hand and give aid to the molding of the image. For when that hand is at work, it is impossible for anything that is done to be lost; nay, it is impossible that the pinnacle of splendor and glory should not be reached, if only we were to follow what lies within our power. For if women were able to obtain from God that He should help them in the care of their children, we shall be able to attain this much more, if we wish. I will omit others, lest the discourse stretch out too long, and although I have many to bring forward, I will mention only one.

^B Anne was a Judean woman. She bore one child, though she was not expecting to bear another; for she had conceived him with difficulty and after many tears, since she was barren. But seeing her rival frequently insulting her for this reason, she did not even then do what you do, but once she had received the son, she kept him with her only for as long as it was necessary for him to be weaned. When he no longer required milk, she took him and straightway offered him to God, nor did she ever ask that he come to his father’s house, but he spent his time always in the temple of God. And if at any time she desired to see him, as a mother would, she did not summon the boy to her, but would go up to him with his father, keeping away from him, because he had been consecrated as a gift. And he grew up to be such a strong and great young man that, through his own virtue, he drew back God—who had turned away from the race of the Hebrews because of the wickedness poured out among them, and who was no longer providing oracles or showing any vision—and obtained from Him that He would provide those same things as before, and restore the prophecy that had flown away. ^C And he was able to do this, not when he was already of mature age, but while he was still a small child. For it says: "There was no vision that was distinct, and the word was precious" (I Kings III, 1). Thus, he was restoring the oracles. So great is the benefit of always yielding what we possess to God, and of withdrawing from all things—not only from money and possessions, but from our very children. For if we are commanded to do this in our soul, how much more so in all other things.

This indeed the patriarch Abraham did, or rather, something much greater; and therefore he received back his son with far greater glory. For then we have our children most of all, when we entrust them to the Lord. He will indeed rule over them far better than we, because He cares for them more. Do you not see this happening even in the houses of the wealthy? For there, you would not see those who dwell in the lowest place with their parents being so illustrious, nor endowed with such power; but those whom their masters have taken from their parents and appointed to their own service and made guardians of their property, enjoy greater benevolence from their masters, are held trustworthy, and are as much more brilliant than the slaves of the house as the masters are than their servants. ^D But if men treat their servants with such kindness and benevolence, how much more so will that infinite goodness, God? Let us, therefore, allow them to serve, not by bringing them into a temple as Samuel, but into heaven itself with the angels and with the archangels. For that those who have undertaken this philosophy will serve and minister with them is plain to everyone; where they will look out not only for themselves but also for you with greater confidence. For if certain parents have obtained some consolation for the sake of their children, much more will parents obtain this for the sake of their children. For here there was such a right of nature, but here also of upbringing, which is much greater than the right of nature.

And I will confirm both of these to you from the divine Scriptures. For God says that He will save the city for His own sake, and for the sake of David His servant, because Hezekiah—though he was a man endowed with virtue and piety—did not have enough confidence from his own deeds to be able to stand against so great a danger (IV Kings XIX, 34). And Paul, writing to Timothy about parents, said: "But they shall be saved through the begetting of children, if they continue in faith and love and sanctification with sobriety" (I Tim. II, 15). Job also—as the Scripture praised him in other respects, namely that he was just, truthful, and religious toward God—it praised in this same way for his care of his children; which consisted in this, not that he gathered gold for them, not that he made them glorious and illustrious, but in what? Hear the Scripture saying: "When the days of their feasting had been completed, Job would send and purify them, and rising up early he would offer sacrifice for them according to their number, and one calf for each for sin, for their souls." For Job said in his heart: "Lest by any chance my sons have thought evil in their mind against God" (Job I, 5).

21. Cohortation to parents to train their children in piety

let us do, so that we may leave to them the wealth of piety, which remains, and accompanies them in their migration, and is able to benefit them greatly not only here, but also there. For worldly wealth will neither accompany them, and here it will be ^A lost before them, and will often destroy those who possess it; but this wealth will stand firm both here and there, and will preserve with great security those who have acquired it. For it is as follows: he who prefers earthly things to spiritual will fall away from both; but he who desires heavenly things will certainly obtain those of earth as well. This is not my argument, but that of the Lord, who is about to grant these things. For, "Seek," He says, "the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you" (Matt. VI, 33). What could be equal to this honor? Attend, He says, to spiritual things, but leave all your own concerns to me. Just as if some affectionate father were to manage the care of his house and the oversight of his servants and all other matters, and should exhort his child to occupy himself with philosophy alone: thus also does God. Let us be persuaded, therefore, and seek the kingdom of God, and thus we shall everywhere see our children proved worthy, and we ourselves shall be glorious with them, and shall enjoy present things if we are in love only with the future and heavenly ^B ones. These things, to those of you who are persuaded, will bring a great reward, but to those who gainsay and are disobedient, will bring a heavier punishment. For it is not possible to take refuge in an apology, nor to say that there was no one to teach these things. Indeed, even before our words, this apology was nullified, since nature has an accurate criterion of good things and of those that are not such, and since this philosophy is proposed everywhere, and since the evils in this life are sufficient to drive those who are strongly in love with it into the wilderness. And even if we were silent, as I said, the grounds for an apology would have been nullified, but now much more so after these long discourses, and such great exhortation, and that from the reality of things, and the even clearer teaching from the divine Scriptures. And if it were possible to remain at home and not be utterly corrupted, but at least to obtain the lowest rank of salvation, even then we would not have escaped condemnation by hindering those who are hastening to advance to a more rigorous life, and by detaining in more worldly ^C affairs those who are eager to fly to heaven; but when not even this is possible, but it is necessary that they should utterly perish, and the danger concerns the most extreme outcomes, what pardon shall we have, and what defense, dragging upon ourselves heavier penalties not only for our own sins, but also for those committed by our children after this? For I do not think that they will be punished as severely for the sins they may commit later on, having been dragged down into this turbulence, as you will be, who have brought this necessity upon them. For if it is better for him who causes one to stumble that he be drowned in the sea with a millstone, what punishment and retribution will suffice for those who display such cruelty and harshness toward their children? Therefore I beseech you to remit this contentiousness, and to become fathers of philosophical children. For it is not possible to say that which I hear many pleading. What is this? "Knowing them to be unable to reach the end, we hindered them for this reason." For even if you knew this clearly, and the matter were not a mere conjecture—for many of those who were expected to fall stood firm—nevertheless, even if you knew it for certain, it was not right to drag them down. For if we caught some who were about to fall and tripped them up, this would not be enough for our defense; rather, this very thing is what most condemns us. For why did you not allow the fall ^D to be the result of his own sloth, but, seizing the fault beforehand, did you drag the whole thing onto your own head? Nay, rather, it was not right to even allow it to happen: for why did you not do everything so that your son would not fall? So that, since you knew exceedingly well that he would fall, for this very reason you would be worthy of greater punishment. For he who foreknows this should not cast him down, but reach out his hand, and show greater zeal so that he who is about to fall might stand firmly, whether he was fated to stand or not. For all our own duties must be fulfilled, even if others are not likely to reap any benefit from us. For what reason, and why? That the account may no longer be to us, but to them before God. Which He Himself also said when reproving the one who had produced nothing from his talent: "For you ought," He says, "to have deposited my money with the bankers; and I, coming, would have claimed it with interest" (Matt. XXV, 27). Let us be persuaded, therefore, by Him who gives this advice, so that we may also escape the punishment. For we cannot deceive God, as we can men, He who searches the hearts and brings all things into the light, and makes us accountable everywhere for the salvation of our children. For if he who did not deposit the money paid such a penalty, what will he suffer who also hinders those who desire to deposit it? For even if our children, having been rolled into the affairs of life through our counsel, nonetheless carry the assault bravely, and lay hold of the mountains again, the same punishment will lie upon those who wished to hinder them. For just as he who leads toward philosophy, whether he persuades or does not persuade, has his reward complete (for he did all that was in his power), so also he who wished to corrupt them, whether he captures them or does not capture them, will undergo the same judgment; for this man also fulfilled all that was in his power. So that even if you have no strength to trip up and pull down the noble spirits of your children, you will pay as great a penalty for the mere attempt as those who pulled them down from thence. Thinking on all these things, then, and leaving aside all excuses, let us make haste to become fathers of noble children, builders of Christ-bearing temples, caretakers of heavenly athletes, anointing them, raising them up, and working for their benefit on every side, so that we may share in their crowns there. But if you are contentious, the children, if they are noble, will come to this philosophy even against your will, and will enjoy all good things, but it will remain for you to have gathered a myriad of punishments for yourselves, and to praise our words then, when there is no benefit to you from the praises.