To the Same, Letter 83

as those who know them and those who do not, those who have learned of their affairs by the events themselves and those who have learned by report; they also have countless numbers who sympathize with them, who struggle alongside them, who wish them well—everyone! But those who plot against them are hated by so many and by far more: they are accused, slandered, rebuked, put to shame, cursed by thousands, and those who desire to see them punished and in torment are countless. And these things belong to this life; but who could ever represent by words what is to come in the hereafter? For if the one who causes a single person to stumble is judged worthy of such punishment that it would be better for him to have a millstone hung about his neck and to be drowned in the sea (Luke 17:2), consider what heavy penalties these will pay in that terrible judgment, and what punishments they will endure for having—as much as in them lay—shaken the whole world, overturned so many churches, and caused such a peaceful state of affairs to be disturbed by creating scandals everywhere. But those who have suffered such things from them, shining with their virtuous deeds, their sufferings, their crowns, their rewards, and with great boldness, will stand alongside the martyrs, alongside the apostles, alongside the noble and exalted men. They will see them being punished, but they will not be able to deliver them from their torments; even if these men should offer prayers, they will not help them at all. For if the man who passed by the single Lazarus endured such punishment and met with no solace (Luke 16:19-31), what will they suffer who persecuted and caused so many to stumble? Reflecting therefore on all these things, and gathering whatever else of a similar nature can be drawn from the Holy Scriptures, you will prepare a secure bulwark for yourselves and, for those who are still weaker, medicines from these accounts; stand firm and immovable, and wait for the good things that await you. For absolutely, absolutely a reward is prepared for you, not merely equal to your labors, but one that is immense, far exceeding the labors by a great interval. For such is our benevolent God: out of his great generosity, he strives to surpass those who desire to do or say some good thing with his own gifts and rewards; may we attain these things in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.

To my most reverend and God-beloved lord, Bishop Innocent, John in the Lord greetings.

^A 1. Even before our letter reached you, I believe your reverence had heard of the lawlessness perpetrated here. For the gravity of these evils has left almost no part of the world ignorant of this miserable tragedy. The report of what has happened has reached the very ends of the earth, causing weeping and lamentation everywhere. But since it is not enough to weep, but one must also take corrective action and consider how this most grievous storm of the Church might be stilled, we have deemed it necessary to persuade my most honorable and reverend lords, the bishops Demetrius, Pansophius, Pappus, and Eugenius, to leave their own churches and entrust themselves to the sea, and to undertake so long a journey, that they might hasten to your love and clearly explain everything, so that the correction might be prepared as quickly as possible. To them we have joined our most honorable and beloved deacons, Paul and Cyriacus; and they themselves will, in the form of a letter, briefly explain to your love the things that have occurred.

For Theophilus, who was entrusted with the oversight of the Church in Alexandria ^B—after certain persons had petitioned the most pious Emperor against him, and he had been commanded to arrive alone—gathered with himself a multitude of Egyptian bishops, not a few; he arrived as if wishing to show from the beginning that he had come for war and battle. Then, having stepped into the great and God-beloved Constantinople, he did not enter the church according to custom and the law that has prevailed from of old; he did not meet with us, nor did he share in speech, nor in prayer, nor in communion. But, stepping down from the ship and bypassing the threshold of the church, he went away and lodged somewhere outside the city, and having...

eech, nor in prayer, nor in communion. But, stepping down from the ship and bypassing the threshold of the church, he went away and lodged somewhere outside the city, and having guests who had arrived before him to stay with us—for there were lodgings and everything else necessary, well-equipped—neither they nor he himself would comply with our wishes. Seeing this, we were deeply troubled in spirit; and although we could find no reason for such unjust enmity, we nevertheless performed for them the offices it was right for us to show, and frequently implored him to join with us and say for what reason he was stirring up such a great war from the outset and bringing discord into such a great city. But when he would not explain his reasons, and his accusers were pressing me, the most pious Emperor called us and ordered [us] to go to the place where he was staying, to hear there the charges being brought against him. ^A For they alleged incursions, murders, and many other things. Knowing the laws of the fathers, and deferring to the man with honor, and possessing letters from him on this matter [stating] that business in each province must be conducted there, and not be drawn outside their borders, we vehemently refused to take on the judgment of the case. Furthermore, he, as if striving to add a heap to his earlier attempts, called my archdeacon with great authority; and as if the church were already widowed and had no bishop, he brought all the clergy over to himself through him. Churches were becoming deserted day by day, as clerics were abducted from each church and instructed to accuse us and produce libels against us. After this, he called us to judgment as well, although the charges brought against him had not yet been cleared—a thing that was most contrary to all canons and laws. ^B But knowing that we were not coming to a judgment (for otherwise we would have come six hundred times) but to an enemy and a foe, which the things done both before and after sufficiently declare, we sent to him bishops—Demetrius, bishop of Pisinunt, Eulysius of Apamea, Lupicinus of Appiaria—and priests, Germanus and Severus, and answered with the modesty befitting our character: that we did not avoid judgment, but an open enemy and a manifest foe. For he who, without even having received libels, acted in such a way from the very beginning, and withdrew himself from the prayers and communion of the Church, and moreover suborned accusers, drew the clergy to himself, and desolated the church—how could he be considered fit to ascend the judgment seat, which is in no way suitable for him? For it is not appropriate that those who are in Egypt should judge those who are in Thrace, and especially one who is himself guilty, an enemy, and a foe. ^C But he, reverencing none of these things, was panting with great frenzy to accomplish what he had conceived in his mind.

Yet when we protested that we were ready to clear [ourselves] of the charges and to declare our innocence, just as we are innocent, before a hundred or a thousand bishops, he did not agree; but although we were absent, and were appealing to a synod, and were seeking a legitimate judgment, and were shunning not a tribunal but manifest enmities, he nevertheless received the accusers, absolved those whom I had excommunicated, and accepted libels from those who had not yet purged themselves of their own crimes; and he ordered proceedings to be recorded, all of which were forbidden by the laws and canons. And what need is there to say many things? He did not cease to do and contrive everything until he expelled us by force and power from the city and the Church, even when evening was already advanced, and the whole people were following us. Therefore, dragged by force and abducted by the Curiosus of the city in the middle of the city, and thrown into a ship, I sailed through the night, because I had appealed to a synod and a just judgment. Who could hear these things without tears, even if he had a heart of stone? ^D

Chrysostom’s behavior after his first exile, and what he suffered. Violent incursion into the Church.

[GREEK COLUMN] ^A ...he refrained from the letters, but remained at home, putting forward as a pretext the unrest of the populace and the untimely zeal of certain ones who were ostensibly supporting him; even though, before the imperial letters, this very populace had showered him with myriad insults. But we are not investigating these matters now, but desiring to show that he was found committing wickedness, we have spoken these things. But not even after these things did we remain quiet; rather, we pressed on, demanding that a tribunal be held for inquiry and response; for we said that we were ready to prove that we ourselves were blameless, and that they were the ultimate transgressors. For there were some Syrians among those who had once been with him, who were left behind here and who had done everything in common with him; and we approached them, ready to stand trial, and ^B often we importuned them regarding this, demanding that the records be given to us, or the books of accusations, or that the nature of the charges be made known, or the accusers themselves; and we obtained none of these things, but were again cast out of the Church. What further could I recount of subsequent events, which surpassed every tragedy? What speech will represent these things? What ear, without shuddering, will receive them? For as we were bringing these things forward, as I mentioned before, a multitude of soldiers, on the great Sabbath itself, as the evening of the day was pressing in, entered the churches, cast out by force the entire clergy who were with us, and the sanctuary was surrounded by weapons. And women, having stripped for baptism in the houses of prayer, ^C at that very moment fled naked because of the fear of this cruel assault, not even being permitted to put on the modesty proper to women; and many, having received wounds, were cast out, and the baptisteries were filled with blood, and the holy waters were reddened by the blood. And the cruelty did not stop even there. But having entered where the holy things were stored, the soldiers—some of whom, as we learned, were uninitiated—saw everything inside, and the most holy blood of Christ, as in such a tumult it happens, was spilled upon the garments of the aforementioned soldiers; and everything was dared as in a barbarian captivity. And the populace was driven into the wilderness, and all the people were spending time outside the city, and in such a festival the churches were empty of the people, and more than forty bishops who were in communion with us, along with the people and the clergy, were driven out in vain and for nothing; and wailings, and dirges, and fountains of tears were everywhere in the squares, in the houses, in the wildernesses, and every part of the city was filled with these calamities; for because of the excess of the lawlessness, not only those who were suffering, but even those who endured no such thing suffered along with us—not only those of the same faith, but even heretics and Jews and Greeks; and as if the city had been captured by force, so everything was in tumults and disturbances and wailings. And these things were dared against the judgment of the most pious Emperor, with night falling, with bishops instigating these things, and in many places acting as generals, who were not ashamed to have camp-doctors ^D leading the way instead of deacons. When day came, the whole city was migrating outside the walls under trees and groves, like sheep scattered, celebrating the festival.

4. It is possible for you to calculate all the subsequent events; for as I have already said, it is not possible to go over everything that happened in detail in speech. The difficult thing is that such and so many evils have not even now received a resolution, nor is there even a hope of resolution; but the evil is extended day by day, and we have become a laughingstock to the many—or rather, no one laughs, even if someone is a transgressor ten thousand times, but all mourn, as I said, the culmination of evils, this new lawlessness. What might one say about the disturbances of the remaining Churches? For the evil did not stop there, but reached even as far as the East. For as when a foul current has been poured out from the head, the remaining parts are corrupted, so also now, as if from the fountain of this great city, with the evils having begun, the way of the disturbances has advanced everywhere, and clergy everywhere have risen up against bishops, and bishops against bishops, and peoples have been divided from peoples, and others are about to be, and everywhere there are the birth pains of evils, and the overthrow of the whole inhabited world. Having learned all these things, my most honored and most pious lords, show the courage and zeal appropriate to you, so as to restrain such lawlessness as has entered the Churches. For if this custom should prevail, and it become possible for those who wish to go into foreign parishes from such distances, and to cast out whom anyone might wish, to do what they wish by their own authority, know that everything will be lost, and a kind of undeclared war will overrun the whole inhabited world, with everyone striking and being struck by everyone. In order, therefore, that such confusion may not seize the whole world under the sun, be persuaded to send letters, and ordain that things done so lawlessly in our absence, and from one side, without us having declined judgment, should have no force, just as indeed they have none by their own nature; and that those who have so acted lawlessly, when convicted, should be subjected to the penalty of the ecclesiastical laws; and that we, who have not been caught, not convicted, not shown to be blameless, may enjoy your letters continuously, and the love and all the other things we enjoyed before. But if those who have so acted lawlessly wish even now to practice the charges, for which they unjustly cast us out—with no records given to us, no books of accusations, no accusers having appeared—a tribunal having been seated that is impartial, we will both be judged, and we will defend ourselves, and we will demonstrate ourselves to be blameless of the charges brought against us, just as indeed we are; for the things now done by them are outside of all order, and against all laws, and against all ecclesiastical canons.

535 S. JOANNIS CHRYSOST. ARCHIEP. CONSTANTINOP. ^A And what do I say of ecclesiastical canons? Neither in the courts of the gentiles, nor in the tribunals of the barbarians have such things ever been attempted: indeed, neither Scythians nor Sauromatae have ever judged that one party should be sentenced, while the one accused is absent, and is avoiding not judgment, but enmity, and is calling upon thousands of judges, and is protesting before the whole world that he is not guilty, that he will refute the accusations, and that he will demonstrate his innocence in all things. Since you understand that all these things are so on the part of my lords, our most reverend fellow-bishops, I beseech you to grant what they shall request. By doing so, you will not only do us a favor, but the whole body of the Churches, and you will receive a reward from God, who deigns to do everything for the peace of the Churches. Always farewell, and pray for me, most reverend and holy lord. ^B

TO INNOCENT, BISHOP OF ROME, JOHN SENDS GREETING IN THE LORD

Our body is held in one place only; but the wing of love flies around the entire world. Therefore, although we are separated by so great a distance of travel, we are nevertheless not absent from your piety; rather, we are present with you daily: for with the eyes of love we see that fortitude of yours, your sincere affection, your unchangeable constancy, and that great, perpetual, and stable consolation which you bring to us. For the more the waves rise higher, and the more rocks lie hidden, and the more vehement the storms become, by so much the more does your vigilance increase. Neither the great length of the journey, nor the duration of time, nor the difficulty of affairs has rendered you more sluggish; but you persistently imitate the best pilots, who are then most vigilant when they see the waves being roused, the sea swelling, and the great roar of the waters and the deepest darkness of night descending. For this reason, we owe you many thanks, and we surely desire to send frequent letters to you, a thing which would be our greatest consolation. But because the solitude of this place denies us this, and they are not easily able to come to us—not only those who go in that direction, but not even those who dwell in the vicinity—both because this place in which we reside is situated far off and in the remotest borders, and because robbers beset those roads on every side, we beseech you that our prolonged silence may cause you to sympathize with us, rather than to judge us guilty of negligence. For that our silence did not arise from incuria is clear from the fact that, after a long space of time, having encountered the venerable and beloved priest John and the deacon Paul, we do not cease to write and to give you thanks, because you have declared a greater benevolence toward us than a father. For if all things had been settled and corrected in your piety, and all scandals removed, the Churches would be enjoying a tranquil and sincere peace; and all things would clearly be well, and the laws would have been vindicated and the violated constitutions of the fathers avenged. But since in reality nothing of the sort has happened, as those who initiated these earlier things strive to heap up new crimes upon them, I truly do not wish to recount in detail all that has been done in the meantime, since the narrative would exceed the bounds not only of a letter, but even of history. However, I pray for your vigilance, that although they have filled all things with tumults, and have labored with ^C incurable diseases incapable of repentance, since you have nevertheless resolved to cure their diseases, do not yield to evils, nor despair, having considered the magnitude of such a work. For this struggle is almost for the whole world, for the Churches cast down and prostrate, for the peoples dispersed, for the clergy harassed, for bishops in exile, for the constitutions of the fathers violated. And therefore, again and again, and most often, we entreat your diligence, that the greater the storm is, the greater the effort that should be applied. We indeed await the future, so that things may be corrected somewhat further. But if that does not happen, you have your crown prepared before the merciful God, and those who are afflicted with injustice will receive no small consolation from the fervor of your love: for even though we have been spending our third year now in exile, in famine, pestilence, war, continuous sieges, incredible solitude, daily death, and by Isaurian swords, your stable and constant affection and trust console us not insignificantly, and your beneficent and sincere love wonderfully delights our heart. This is our wall, this is our security, this is our harbor without waves, this is a treasure of countless goods, this is the cause of joy and wonderful pleasure. Even if we were to be driven again into a place more desolate than this one is, we shall leave having from this no small consolation for our afflictions. ^D

TO THE BELOVED BROTHER JOHN, INNOCENTIUS

If even the innocent ought to await all good things and seek mercy from God, yet letters of encouragement have been sent by us, who exhort to patience, ^A through Cyriacus the deacon; so that the outrage may not have more power to oppress than a good conscience has to hope. For you, the teacher and shepherd of so many peoples, need not be taught that the best men are always and perpetually put to the test, to see if they remain in the vigor of patience and do not succumb to any labor or trouble; and indeed, a clear conscience is a most firm thing against all things that happen unjustly: which, unless one overcomes them by enduring, provides proof of an evil reputation. One ought to endure all things, trusting first in God, and then in one’s own conscience; since especially the good and virtuous man is able to be exercised unto patience, but not to be conquered, ^B because the divine Scriptures guard his mind: and divine readings, which we deliver to the peoples, abound with examples; which have confirmed that almost all the saints were afflicted in various ways and repeatedly, and were tested as if in some examination, and thus came to the crown of patience. May that conscience itself comfort your love, most honorable brother, which in calamities is wont to be the consolation of virtue. For as the Lord Christ looks on, the conscience, having been cleansed in the harbor of peace, shall stand.

INNOCENTIUS THE BISHOP

From the letters of your love, which you sent through Germanus the presbyter and Cassianus the deacon, I learned with anxious care of the scene of evils which you have placed before your eyes; and by reading them repeatedly, I perceived with how many hardships and labors the faith struggles; which thing only the consolation of patience can heal; for our God will shortly grant an end to such great tribulations, and it will be profitable to have endured these things. ^C But indeed, we have recognized in the beginning of your letter, while praising your purpose, that necessary consolation, containing many testimonies prompting to patience; for the comfort which we owed to send to you, you have forestalled in your own letters. For our Lord is accustomed to provide such patience to those who are suffering, so that even while they are in tribulations, the servants of Christ may comfort themselves, reflecting with themselves that the things which they themselves suffer have already happened to the holy men before. And we also are able to offer ourselves consolation from your very letters; for we are not alien to suffering with you, since we too are afflicted in your affliction. For who would be able to bear the crimes done by those who ought especially to have been students of the serenity of peace and of concord ^D itself? Now, in a reversed manner, innocent priests are thrust out from the headship of their own Churches. This, our brother and fellow-minister John, your bishop, has first suffered unjustly, having received no hearing: no charge is brought, nor is he listened to. And what is the forbidden intent? Lest a pretext for judgment arise. Or is it sought that others be put in the places of living priests, as if those who originate from such a transgression could be considered to have done anything rightly or justly? For we have never known such things to have been dared by our predecessors; but rather it has been forbidden, since no authority has been given to anyone to ordain another into the place of one who is living. For an invalid ordination cannot take away the honor of a priest; 524 since he who is unjustly substituted cannot even be a bishop. We write concerning the observance of the canons, that it is necessary to follow those which were defined at Nicaea, to which alone the Catholic Church ought to adhere and to acknowledge. But if others are brought forward by some, which differ from the canons at Nicaea, and which are proven to have been composed by heretics, let these be rejected by Catholic bishops. For things found by heretics are not to be attached to Catholic canons; for they always wish to undermine the counsel of those at Nicaea through contrary and illicit deeds. Not only, therefore, do we say that these ought not to be followed, but rather that those [authors] together with the dogmas of heretics and schismatics are to be condemned, just as was done before at the Council of Sardica by the bishops who were before us. For it is better that things wrongly done be condemned, than that those things which were done against the canons should obtain any firmness, most honorable brothers. But what shall we do in the present against such things? A conciliar judgment is necessary, which we have long since said must be convened: for it alone is what can calm the agitations of such storms: that we might attain which, it is useful for the present to postpone the healing to the will of the great God and of Christ our Lord Himself. All things, therefore, which have been disturbed by the envy of the devil for the testing of the faithful, shall be calmed; we ought not to despair of the firmness of faith from the Lord. For we also are considering much how an ecumenical council might be assembled, so that by the will of God the turbulent movements may be calmed. Let us wait, therefore, for the time being, and being fortified by the wall of patience, let us hope that all things will be restored by the help of our God. All things, moreover, which you stated you are undergoing, we have learned by complete inquiry—even though they came at different times, namely Demetrius, Cyriacus, Eusysius, and Palladius, who are with us—when our fellow-bishops ran to Rome before.

EXAMPLE OF A SACRED IMPERIAL EDICT OF HONORIUS, SENT TO THE PRINCE OF THE EAST, ARCADIUS.

^A Although, regarding the matter of the woman’s image, which was carried about the provinces as a novel spectacle and spread through the whole world by the gossip of our detractors, I have already given warning in other letters so that remorse for such an act might cool the envious rumor, and the public tongue might have nothing left to attack in the conduct of others; and although we have also expressed with pious affection our sense of pain over the ruin of the expiring Illyricum, and why you would not acknowledge these losses to the state, and why they were reported by the testimony of others rather than by the letters of your own piety: nevertheless, it is not right that we should hide from your serenity what has recently occurred in divine matters, not without fear of public danger, which the ever-ready rumor—that herald of evils—has not kept silent. And, as the nature of men, which is always excited to slander by new events, usually behaves, when the opportunity for disparagement was offered, it exercised its malice in this season of cruel loquacity.

For it has recently been reported that at Constantinople, on the most sacred day of venerable Easter, when religious practice had gathered almost all the people of the neighboring cities into the same place to be celebrated under the stricter presence of the princes, the Catholic churches were suddenly closed, and the priests were thrust into confinement; so that at that very time, when by the prince’s indulgence the dreary dungeons of criminals are unbarred, a cruel prison might enclose the ministers of the holy law and peace. And, with all the mysteries thrown into confusion in the manner of war, some were even killed in the very sanctuaries of the church, and such violence raged around the altars that even venerable bishops were led into exile, and human blood—which it is sinful to even mention—defiled the heavenly sacraments ^B.

Upon suddenly discovering these things, I confess that I was troubled. For who, in a crime so bloody, would not fear the offense of God Almighty? Or in what way could anyone think that this was outside the extreme danger that faces the Roman world and all mortals? Since the very author of our Empire, and the Almighty God who is the Governor of the State which He has entrusted to us, is believed to be angered by such deadly and detestable crimes—you, holy brother and lord, ^C and venerable grandson of Augustus—since even if anything were being discussed among the prelates regarding a cause of religion, it ought to have been an episcopal judgment; for to them pertains the interpretation of divine matters, and to us pertains the observation of religion. But be that as it may, if a more sovereign concern has presumed to arrogate to itself some authority over mystical and Catholic questions, did the aroused indignation have to proceed even to the exile of priests, even to the slaughter of men, so that where pure prayers, where sincere vows, where unblemished sacrifices are offered, there the sword—which should not easily be brandished even against the throats of criminals—would draw itself?

By events themselves, finally, it is taught what the Divine Majesty felt regarding these matters. This was, first of all, a judgment of the present warning—and would that it were the only one. For human trepidation, conscious of so great a crime committed, makes us fear that something even graver—which may God Almighty avert!—might follow the experience of such a terrible punishment. I hear that the most holy Church, exposed to the resources of so many Emperors and noble with precious adornments, has burned, along with the most august prayer of the suppliant Princes; and that unique light of the Church of the city of Constantinople has, while God did not veil it, crumbled into ashes. For it seems that He abhorred the defiled mysteries and turned His eyes away from that place which blood had already stained, so that no one could beseech the heavenly piety under bloodstained altars. Buildings also, noble with no less splendor, were consumed by the excitement of the raging fire as the flame spread wide; and the ornaments which had been fashioned to decorate the public face of the city by our ancestors were burned up, as if in the funeral of the world. Therefore, although, having been frequently harassed by injuries, I ought to have remained silent and not so faithfully advised my most close brother and partner in the kingdom; nevertheless, preferring before the stimulus of silent pain the bond of blood, I exhort and urge that these things, if it be possible, be corrected by the amendment of conduct in the future, and that the divine wrath, as far as it is revealed, be appeased by the zeal of our prayers.

Receive from me the highest token of simplicity. For this reason I thought it necessary to insinuate this to your clemency, lest my very silence should make me suspected by anyone as if I were in secret agreement, or lest anyone should believe that I grant consent to such deeds; and so that, since I frequently warned that they should not happen, I might not grieve after they have been committed. For who could remain devoid of pain who remembers himself to be a Christian, seeing such great turbulence suddenly introduced into religion, such that the entire state of the Catholic faith must necessarily fluctuate? There was a cause among the bishops which, having been collated and brought to a council, ought to have been resolved; with legates sent on both sides to the priests of the eternal city and of Italy, the sentence was expected by the authority of all, to formulate the rule of discipline.

TO THE BISHOPS, PRESBYTERS, AND DEACONS WHO HAVE BEEN IMPRISONED FOR PIETY.

^A Blessed are you for the prison, for the chains, and for the cause of these bonds: blessed, I say, and thrice blessed, and more often than that. You have hung the whole world upon yourselves by the love you have inspired, and have made even those who are far away your lovers. Throughout the earth and the sea, your triumphs, your courage, your unshaken resolve, and your indomitable spirit are sung. Nothing of what is considered terrible has struck you with fear: not the tribunal, not the executioner, not the showers of tortures, not the threats pregnant with countless deaths, not the judge breathing fire from his mouth, not the enemies gnashing their teeth and devising myriad forms of conspiracy, not the many slanders, not the shameless accusations, not death appearing daily before your eyes. Rather, the cause of these things was enough for you to find consolation. Therefore, all men openly crown you and proclaim you; not only your friends, but even your very enemies—those, indeed, who plot against you; even if they do not say so openly, if one should open up their conscience, he would find great admiration for you even among them. For such is virtue, that it is admired even by those who fight against it; and such is vice, that it is condemned even by those who pursue it.

And these things are here, but what of those in heaven? What words will be able to describe them? Your names have been inscribed in the book of life; you have been numbered with the holy martyrs. I know these things clearly—not by having ascended into heaven, but by having learned them from divine oracles. For if that man who stood by a marriage being conducted unlawfully, and was unable to correct the lawlessness but only to rebuke it—the fruit of the barren woman, the citizen of the wilderness—because he lived in the dungeon for this reason and was beheaded ^B and is a martyr, and the first of the martyrs, you who stood by the laws of the fathers and by the institutions which were being transgressed, and by the priesthood which was being insulted and treated lawlessly, and have suffered so much for the sake of the truth and for the sake of ending shameless slanders—consider how great a reward you will receive. "It is not lawful for you to have the wife of Philip your brother," said that generous and sublime man, and it was enough for him for unspeakable boldness.

Say also to yourselves: "Our bodies are set before us for punishments, for torments, for tortures; waste, consume these with whatever punishments you wish; we do not choose to slander, but to die ten thousand times." But you have not been beheaded, yet you have suffered things far more grievous. For it is not the same thing in the short moment of time to lay down one's head, as to struggle for so long a time with such pains, fears, threats, imprisonments, abductions, tribunals, the hands of executioners, the shameless tongues of sycophants, insults, revilings, and taunts. For this too is a very great form of athletic contest, and the blessed Paul places it in the order of the great contests, speaking thus: "Call to mind the former days, in which after you were illuminated you endured a great fight of afflictions" (Heb. 10. 32). Then, describing the contest, he laid this down, saying thus: "Partly, whilst you were made a gazingstock both by reproaches and afflictions; and partly, whilst you became companions of them that were used so" (Ib. v. 33). And if those who were companions fought, much more did those who endured them. For you have endured not one, not two, not three, but many deaths in your resolve, even if not by experience.

Rejoice, therefore, and leap for joy; for this the Lord of the heavens commanded—not only not to feel pain or to fall, but also to leap for joy and be glad when they cast your name out as evil (Matth. 5. 12). If, then, one must rejoice at slander, when also so many things are added—slanders, blows, tortures, whetted swords, prisons, chains, abductions, being led about, and so many hosts of enemies—consider how great the reward is, and where the summit of the recompense is. Rejoice, therefore, leap for joy, be manly, be strengthened. Consider how many you have anointed through what you have suffered, whose spirits you have raised up, whom you have steadied when they were wavering—not only those present, but even those absent, not only through the sight of what you have endured, but even through hearing alone, and have greatly profited those who are far away.

Continuously carry about that apostolic saying: "That the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come that shall be revealed in us" (Rom. 8. 18). Look forward to the swiftest release from these temptations and a perfect deliverance, and pray continuously for us. For even if we are separated from you by the length of the road and have been parted from you for a long time, yet as if present and living with you, we so embrace you; we so kiss the dear head of each one of you, receiving you as victors with open hands, and expecting from this source a very great profit for us from the great love you have for us. For if those who love you have to wait for a great reward, consider how great will be the requital for you who have shone forth in such contests.

ADMONITION CONCERNING THE EPISTLES OF SAINT JOHN CHRYSOSTOM TO OLYMPIAS AND TO MANY OTHERS

We have not yet been able to attain to the true order of the epistles of Saint John Chrysostom; for the order which the Morellian editions present does not exhibit the correct sequence, either of the times or of the persons to whom the epistles are sent. In the very best and most ancient Coislinian manuscript, the order of the epistles does not agree with the published versions, and it itself exhibits a disturbed sequence, such as we have given in the *Bibliotheca Coisliniana*, p. 565. Moreover, other royal or Vatican manuscripts do not agree with this one, nor with the published editions. Savile arranged all the epistles in alphabetical order, so that their sequence is drawn from the names of the persons to whom the epistles are directed; which order, even if it carries with it some usefulness, is not, however, to be adopted. If we could have established a certain and indubitable chronological order for the epistles, this would certainly have been the true and most useful method of arrangement; but that can be accomplished by no art: for, just as there are certain epistles which seem altogether to have preceded others, so in the greatest part of the others you would search in vain to discover which was sent earlier and which later. For which reason, it seemed best to keep the order established by Jacques Billi and Fronton du Duc: from which this advantage accrues, that the numbers of the epistles, cited six hundred times by the writers of the past and present century, are found to be the same, and it is easy to approach the epistles located in their accustomed place. Jacques Billi Prunæus, Abbot of Saint-Michel-en-l'Erm, was the first to provide 173 of John Chrysostom’s epistles, having prefixed this short preface.

TO THE CANDID READER, GREETINGS

That you now have Saint John Chrysostom in this book of epistles for the first time in an expanded form, most excellent reader, you owe to the most learned man Jacques Cujas, who, out of his great courtesy and devotion to the republic of letters, kindly lent me a Greek manuscript. Although in these epistles there are many of the same subject matter, which perhaps for that reason might be able to cause some weariness to a fastidious reader, the utility of the others, and especially of those which were written to Olympias, will, as I hope, easily compensate for whatever trouble this may be. I would wish that you take our little work in good part, and pour out prayers to God for my salvation. Farewell.

To these 173 epistles, Fronton du Duc added sixty-eight from a manuscript codex of the Jesuit College in Antwerp, and he appended the seventy-ninth from a transcript of Joannes Sambucus, in which it followed the 178th. Although there are not a few things in these epistles where almost the same things are repeated, it must nevertheless be acknowledged that this body of epistles is to be counted among the most noble of ecclesiastical monuments: from this we extract the most accurate information concerning that great schism of the Eastern Church and the exile of Chrysostom, where the holy man suffered every dire thing, dragged about, and afflicted with such great evils that his adversaries, who did not dare to bring death upon him with the sword, inflicted it by means of the burdens and torments they imposed. The order of the epistles, as we have said, is so disturbed that it can scarcely, or hardly at all, be restored: but for the convenience of the reader, it has been sufficient for us to annotate, at the beginning of each epistle, the time as much as was permitted, and often only by conjecture. The seventeen epistles to Olympias, which are placed before the rest, are the longest and most elegant of all,

and, as Photius says (Cod. 86), the most useful. Some of them are consolatory and hortatory, composed in the manner of homilies, while others are very suitable for weaving together the history of his own tribulations. On the subject of this Olympias, Henry Savile writes as follows in his notes, p. 851: "Olympias—to whom these epistles, sweeter than honey dripping from the comb, are addressed—was the niece of Ablabius, who was praetorian prefect under Constantine the Great, being the daughter of Anysius, a count of the second rank. Whether she was the niece of Ablabius through his daughter Olympias, who first married the Augustus Constantius and then Arsaces, king of Armenia—whom Cardinal Baronius thinks for a third time married Anysius, and from whom she (our younger Olympias) was born—I would not say for certain. It seems likely to me that the authors of those times, being effusive enough in their praises of this woman, would not have remained silent about such great glory, had she been the daughter of that same Augusta and queen. Olympias had another sister, as is clear from the letter of Nazianzen to their father, Anysius, which begins, 'Behold, a second son-in-law for you,' and [she had] Theodosia, sister german of the great Amphilochius, as her guide and instructor in virtue during her tender years. Being of marriageable age, she was given by her father in marriage to Nebridius, one of the prefects. Nazianzen, having been invited to this wedding, excused himself to Anysius by a letter beginning, 'I feel the accusations,' etc., saying that, being gouty, he could neither conveniently attend the wedding nor would it be fitting; however, he sent an excellent poem, which is extant in Vol. 2, p. 132 of the Paris edition, as an epithalamium, or rather a moral exhortation to the new bride. From this it appears that these nuptials were celebrated before the conclusion of the Council of Constantinople, at which time Gregory had left his bishopric and retired into Cappadocia; and perhaps it was during the council itself—that is, in the year 381, in the consulship of Syagrius and Eucherius—since Gregory writes that a large number of bishops attended those nuptials, 'and there were present many bishops,' who, it was proper, should have flocked to the royal city on the occasion of the council. She lived in this marriage for twenty months, that is, until the year 383, in which Nebridius died. Thus, in the very flower of her youth, and amidst an abundance of all things, she was widowed of her husband, and she persevered most constantly in that same resolve of perpetual widowhood until her death; nor could she be moved by the prayers or threats of Theodosius the Great, the Emperor, who, because she was adorned with beauty, wealth, and a crown of all virtues, sought with the greatest force to betroth her to his kinsman Elpidius, a Spaniard. Offended by this refusal, the Emperor, before he set out against the tyrant Maximus—which occurred in the year 388—commanded the prefect of the city to find some pretext to hold all her property until she had completed her thirtieth year. She is said to have borne this plundering of her fortunes with a spirit so noble, and so virile for her sex, that she seemed even to consider the injury brought upon her by the Emperor as something welcome, remaining, as I said, in that same tenor of widowhood. For whoever reads with discernment that part of the second letter written to her by our John (see below, col. 559, no. 4 sqq.), will admit with Baronius that the claim of her perpetual virginity is fabulous. After his return from the war against Maximus—that is, in the year 391—Theodosius, having understood the constancy of Olympias, ordered that her possessions be returned to her. From that time she opened her home as a common lodging for all the bishops, monks, priests, and ecclesiastical men who came there. Among others, she donated money and estates to the great Amphilochius, to Optimus the bishop, to Peter the brother of Basil, and to Epiphanius the bishop of Cyprus; she also embraced Theophilus, Antiochus, Acacius, and Severianus with every kind of liberality and munificence. Thus, she was made a deaconess by Nectarius himself, the bishop of Constantinople; and she closed the eyes of both Nectarius and the bishop Optimus with her own hands when they were dying. How dear she was to John after Nectarius, and how dear John was to her, these epistles declare. And indeed, after the exile of John, she was dragged to judgment and accused, among other supporters of John, of the burning of the church of St. Sophia; though she replied most steadfastly to the inquisitors, she was nevertheless fined a not inconsiderable sum of gold and, leaving Constantinople, withdrew to Cyzicus to await milder times. These facts, and much more than these, the reader will find recorded about this divine woman in the writings of Gregory Nazianzen, Palladius, Sozomen, Ammianus, the Menologies, George of Alexandria, and other biographers. Although the things said here concerning the origin of Olympias are involved in some difficulties which it is not the present task to solve; but what Savile says, that Olympias married Nebridius in the year 381, in the consulship of Syagrius and Eucherius

cannot possibly stand. For as Tillemont nicely observes, Nebridius died about twenty months after taking Olympias to wife; but if he married her in the year 381, he must have passed away in the year 383, at the very latest. And yet the law is addressed to him in the Theodosian Code on the 29th of June in the year 386, and thus the year of Olympias's nuptials must be sought elsewhere. Let it be assumed, therefore, as is thought, that Olympias married in the year 384. 526 The order of the letters to Olympias, as well as of all the others that follow, has been disturbed: those who collected these letters have observed no chronological order, as anyone will notice who peruses the notes of time placed at the beginning of each letter. That order, whatever it is, varies quite a little between the published editions and the manuscripts: for instance, the letter which is placed fourth to Olympias in the editions of Morel is located sixteenth in the edition of Savile and in some manuscripts; in the others, the series is identical. After the letters to Olympias, Savile places all the remaining ones in alphabetical order according to the names of those to whom the letters were sent. This very order we also reproduce here with the names expressed in Latin.

Acacius the presbyter, one: CCVII. Adolia, six letters: 1. XXXIII. 2. LII. 3. LVII. 4. CXXXIII. 5. CLXXIX. 6. CCXXXI. Aetius, one: CXCVI. Agapetus, three: 1. XX. 2. LXXIII. 3. CLXXV. Alexander the bishop of Corinth, one: CLXIV. Alphius, four: 1. XXI. 2. XXXV. 3. XLIX. Alypius, one: CLXXXVI. Amprucia the deaconess, three: 1. XCVI. 2. CIII. Anatolius the prefect, one: CCV. Anatolius the bishop of Adana, one: CXI. Anthemius, one: CXLVII. Antiochenus the bishop, one: CCXXXIII. Antiochus, one: CLXXXIX. Anysius the bishop of Thessalonica, one: CLXII. Anysius and other bishops, one: CLXIII. Aphthonius, Theodotus, Chaereas the presbyters and monks, two: 1. LXX. 2. XCIII. Arabius, two: 1. XLVIII. 2. CXXI. Artemidorus, one: CLXXVII. Asellus the bishop, one: CLI. Asyncritia, four: 1. XL. 2. LXXVII. 3. XCIX. Aurelius the bishop of Carthage, one: CXLIX. Basilius the presbyter, one: XXVIII. Bassiana, one: CX. Bassus the bishop, one: CX. Brison, two: 1. CXC. 2. CCXXXIV. Callistratus the bishop of Isauria, one: CC. Candidianus, one: XLII. Carteria, four: 1. XVIII. 2. XXXIV. 3. CCXXVII. Carterius the duke, one: CCXXXVI. Castus, Valerius, Diophantus, etc., six: 1. XXII. 2. LXII. 3. LXVI. 4. CVII. 5. CXXX. 6. CCXXII. Chalcidia, four: 1. XXXIX. 2. LXXVI. 3. XCVIII. 4. CV. Chalcidia and Asyncritia, three: 1. XXIX. 2. LX. 3. CCXLII. Chromatius the bishop of Aquileia, one: CLV. Claudianus, one: CXCV. Constantinus the presbyter, two: 1. CCXXI. 2. CCXV. Cyriacus, Demetrius, Palladius, Eulysius, one: CXLVIII. Cyriacus the bishop, three: 1. LXIV. 2. CXXV. 3. CCII. Cytherius, one: LXXXII. Daniel the presbyter, one: CXCIX. Diogenes, four: 1. L. 2. LI. 3. CXXXIV. 4. CXLIV. Domnus the bishop, one: XXVII. Elpidius the bishop, six: 1. XXV. 2. CXIV. 5. CXXXI. To the bishops, five letters: 1. CLII. 2. CLIII. 4. CLIV. 5. CLXXXI. To the bishops who had come from the West, three: 1. CLVII. 2. CLVIII. 3. CLIX. To the bishop who had come from the West, one: CLX. To the bishops who had come with the Westerners, three: 1. CLXV. 2. CLXVI. 3. CLXVII. To the bishops and presbyters placed in prison, two: 1. After the letter of Honorius above p. 526. 2. CLXXIV. To the bishops, presbyters, and deacons included in prison, one: CXVIII. Evethius, one: CLXXXII. Eulogius the bishop, one: LXXXVII. Euthalia, two: 1. XXXII. 2. CLXXVIII. Euthymius the presbyter, one: CCXVIII. Faustinus, one: LXXXIV. Firminus, one: LXXX. Gaudentius the bishop of Brescia, one: CLXXXIV. Gemellus, four: 1. LXXIX. 2. CXXIV. 3. CXXXII. Gerontius the presbyter, one: LIV. Harmatius, one: LXXV.

TO MY LADY, THE MOST VENERABLE AND RELIGIOUS DEACONESS OLYMPIAS, JOHN THE BISHOP, GREETING IN THE LORD.

EP. I

1. Come now, I will once again alleviate the ulcer of your despondency and scatter the thoughts that gather this cloud. For what is it that disturbs and grieves your mind, and makes you so anxious? Is it because the tempest that has taken hold of the Churches is fierce and dark, and has turned everything into a moonless night, and is intensified day by day, and brings forth, as it were, bitter shipwrecks of labor, and the ruin of the world is growing heavier? I know this, and no one will deny it; and if you wish, I will fashion an image of what is happening, so as to make the tragedy clearer to you. We behold the sea being churned up from the very abyss, with sailors floating dead upon the waters, others sinking below the surface, the planks of the ships being dissolved, the sails being rent asunder, the masts being snapped, the oars escaping from the hands of the sailors, the pilots sitting on the decks instead of holding the rudders, clasping their hands to their knees, and wailing at the desperation of their plight, crying out sharply, mourning, and lamenting—nothing but darkness everywhere, deep and sunless and gloomy, so that one cannot even see those nearby, and the roar of the waves is great, and sea-monsters are attacking those sailing from all sides. Rather, how long shall we pursue things that are immovable? For when I seek an image for the present evils, my speech, overcome, retreats. Nevertheless, seeing even these things, I do not despair of a better hope, contemplating the Governor of this whole, who does not overcome the storm by art, but dissolves the surge by a nod. But if He does not do so from the beginning, nor immediately, it is His custom not to dissolve troubles at the outset, but when they have grown and come to their peak, and have been despaired of by the majority, then He works wonders and creates paradoxes, both exhibiting His own power and exercising the endurance of those who fall into them. Therefore, do not be cast down. For there is but one thing, Olympias, that is terrible—temptation, sin alone; and this word I have not ceased to repeat to you constantly. All other things are a fable—whether you speak of plots, or hatreds, or deceits, or slanders, or insults, or accusations, or confiscations, or exiles, or sharpened swords, or the sea, or the war of the whole world. For whatever these things may be, they are transitory and perishable, and they occur in a mortal body, and they do not harm the watching soul in the least. For this reason, the blessed Paul, wishing to show the worthlessness of both the good and the grievous things of this present life, indicated the whole in one word, saying, "For the things that are seen are temporary" (2 Cor. 4:18). Why, then, do you fear things that are temporary, which flow past like river currents? For such are the present things, whether they be good or grievous. Another prophet compared all human prosperity not to grass, but to another, more worthless matter, calling it all together "the flower of grass" (Is. 40:6). For he did not assign even a part of it—such as wealth alone, or luxury alone, or power, or honors; but, having encompassed all things that appear to be brilliant among men with the one name of "glory," he thus brought in the image of grass, saying, "All the glory of man is as the flower of grass."

2. But, you say, this misfortune is terrible and heavy. But see this, too, compared to another image, and despise it as well. For, comparing insults, and abuses, and reproaches, and the jeers of enemies, and plots to a garment that has grown old and wool that has been eaten away, he said, "Fear not the reproach of men, and be not overcome by their contempt, for as a garment they shall be worn out, and as wool they shall be eaten away by the moth" (Is. 51:7, 8). Let nothing, therefore, that is occurring disturb you, but leaving off calling upon this person and that, and running after shadows (for this is what human assistance is), call upon Jesus, whom you serve, to nod but once; and everything is resolved in a single moment of time. But if you have called upon Him, and it was not resolved, such is God's custom, not to dissolve the terrible things from the outset (for I will resume the former argument), but when it has reached its peak, when it has grown, when almost nothing is left of the malice of those fighting, at that point to change everything suddenly into calm, and to lead the very matters to unexpected states. For He is not only able to do such good things as we expect and hope for, but even much more, and infinitely greater. Wherefore also Paul said: "Now to Him who is able to do above all things, far more than we ask or think" (Eph. 3:20). For could He not have prevented the three children from falling into that temptation from the outset? Yet He did not...

gain for themselves a profit. And for this reason, He allowed them to fall into the hands of barbarians, and the furnace to be stoked to an incredible height, and the king's wrath to be inflamed more fiercely than the furnace, and them to be bound very tightly hand and foot and cast into the fire. But when all who were watching them had given them up as dead, then at length, suddenly and beyond all expectation, the power of God, that most excellent Artificer of miracles, revealed itself and shone forth in a pre-eminent way. For the fire was constrained, while those who were bound were loosed; and the furnace was transformed into a temple and a fountain and a dew, and it appeared more majestic and august than the royal court; and the nature of the hair overcame that all-consuming substance which masters even iron and stone and, in short, all matter. ^A And that most harmonious choir of the saints stood there, calling upon both of those created things for this miraculous concert, and they sent up hymns of thanksgiving to God, for the fact that they were bound, for the fact that, so far as it lay with their enemies, they were burned, for the fact that they were cast out from their fatherland, for the fact that they were carried off as captives, for the fact that they were stripped of their liberty, for the fact that they were bereft of cities and homes and were exiles, for the fact, finally, that they dwelt in a foreign and barbarian land; for this is the mark of a grateful soul. ^B And after the wickedness of the enemies had been fully accomplished (for what more could they attempt beyond death?) and the virtue of the athletes had been fulfilled, and the crown was woven, and the rewards for them were collected, and no further splendor remained to be added to the glory of the name, then at last the evils were dispelled; and he who had kindled the furnace and had condemned them to such a grievous punishment, the same man extols those holy athletes with miraculous praises and proclaims the miracle performed by God, and sends letters filled with great praise to every part of the world, recounting what had happened and showing himself to be a witness to the divine miracles, worthy of belief. For since he was himself an enemy and an adversary, for that reason what was written was beyond all suspicion even among enemies. ^C Hast thou seen what He wrought beyond the expectation of men? Hast thou seen His kindness and His care? Do not, therefore, be disquieted or troubled, but for all things steadfastly give thanks to Him, and praise Him, ask, and supplicate Him as a suppliant; even if six hundred tumults, six hundred perturbations and storms arise before thine eyes, let nothing of these trouble thee. For the Lord is not forestalled by the difficulty of things, even if all things have fallen into total ruin. For He is able both to rouse those who are lying low, and to call back those who are wandering into the way, and to correct those who have suffered a stumble, and to deliver and make upright those who are covered with countless sins, and to grant life to the extinguished, and to provide greater splendor to things that have been destroyed, and to renew those things which have contracted age. For since He brings it about that things which were not come to be, and brings it about for those things which were in no way visible that they should exist, ^D much more will He amend those things which exist and which have been made. But are there many who are perishing, many to whom scandal is given? But many such things have often happened, which nevertheless afterwards obtained such healing as was proper; unless, perhaps, some have remained stubbornly in an incurable malady even when things have changed. But why dost thou afflict thy soul and cast it down on that account, because this one has been cast out, that one introduced? Christ was being led to the cross, and Barabbas the robber was being requested, and the corrupted mob was crying out that the homicide should be preserved rather than the Savior and the author of so many benefits. How many men dost thou think these things caused to stumble, how many men did they lead to ruin? But it is better to repeat the discourse from higher up. Was not He who was fixed to the cross, immediately as He came into the light, forced to migrate, and with His whole house banished from His very swaddling clothes to a foreign land, being led off into the region of the barbarians, separated by such a long interval of journeying? For which cause also a great flood of blood was poured out, slaughters and massacres occurred, and every tender age was cut down just as in battle and in the battle-line, and infants were torn from the breasts and butchered, and while they still had milk in their throats, the iron was driven into their gullet and neck. What can be imagined more grievous or bitter than this tragedy? And these things were being perpetrated by him who was seeking to kill Him: and yet God in His long-suffering, when such a tragic crime was being designed and such a flood of blood was flowing, allowed it—allowed it, I say, when He could have prevented it, displaying in an ineffable wisdom such great equanimity and long-suffering.

Chapter 3.

[GREEK COLUMN] 553... a glutton and a wine-bibber, a friend of tax collectors and sinners. And when He spoke with the harlot, they called Him a false prophet. For if He were a prophet, they said, He would know what kind of woman this is who is speaking to Him. And daily they whetted their teeth against Him. And it was not only the Jews who fought against Him in this way, but not even those who were considered to be His brothers were sound towards Him, but rather the war against Him was fanned among His own kin. 552 Behold, then, how even they were corrupted, from the fact that the Evangelist afterwards added: For not even His brothers believed in Him. ^A 4. But since you have mentioned many who were scandalized and led astray, how many of the disciples do you think were scandalized at the time of the cross? One betrayed Him, others fled, one denied Him, and when all had withdrawn, He was led away bound alone. How many, therefore, who had previously seen Him working wonders—raising the dead, cleansing lepers, casting out demons, causing loaves to spring forth, and performing other miracles—do you think were scandalized at that time, seeing Him led away alone and bound, surrounded by base soldiers, followed by Jewish priests who shouted and stirred up trouble, with all His enemies having taken Him captive alone in their midst, while the traitor was present and for the moment exulting? And what of when He was scourged? It is likely that a vast multitude was present. For it was a renowned festival that gathered everyone together, and it was the metropolis that received the drama of lawlessness, and at mid-day too. How many, therefore, do you think were present then and were scandalized, seeing Him bound, scourged, streaming with blood, examined by a governor’s tribunal, and not one of the disciples present? And what of when those various, continuous, and repeated mockeries took place against Him—at one time crowning Him with thorns, at another casting a cloak upon Him, at another putting a reed in His hand, at another falling down and worshipping Him, stirring up every kind of mockery and laughter? How many do you think were scandalized, how many troubled, how many disturbed, when they struck Him on the cheek and said, Prophesy to us, Christ, who is it that struck You? And they led Him and led Him around; the whole day they were consumed in this—in taunts and insults and mockery and laughter in the midst of the Jewish theater! ^B And what of when the servant of the high priest struck Him on the cheek? What of when the soldiers divided His garments among themselves? And when He was led up to the cross naked, having the lashes on His back, and was crucified? For not even then were those wild beasts softened, but they became even more manic, and the tragedy intensified, and the mockery increased. For some said: He who destroys the temple and in three days builds it up. Others said: He saved others, ^C He cannot save Himself. Others said: If You are the Son of God, come down from the cross, and we will believe You. And what of when they insulted Him by offering Him gall and vinegar to drink? What of when the robbers reviled Him? And what of that which I said before, that horrific and most lawless act, when they said that that robber and house-breaker, full of countless murders, was worthy to be asked for rather than Him, and having received their choice from the judge, they preferred Barabbas, wanting to heap not only crucifixion but also an evil reputation upon Christ? For they thought they could establish from this that He was worse than the robber, and so lawless, that He could be saved neither by philanthropy nor by the dignity of the festival. For they did everything for this purpose—so as to slander His reputation. It was for this reason that they crucified the two robbers with Him. But the truth was not shadowed, but shone all the more. They even brought an accusation of tyranny against Him, saying: Everyone who makes himself a king is not a friend of Caesar; imputing a charge of tyranny against Him who had nowhere to lay His head. And they also slandered Him concerning blasphemy. For the high priest tore his garments, saying: He has blasphemed; what further need do we have of witnesses? And the death—what kind was it? Was it not violent? Was it not of those condemned? Was it not of the cursed? Was it not the most shameful? Was it not of those who had committed the most extreme crimes, and were not even worthy to breathe out their soul upon the earth? And as for the manner of the burial, was it not filled with grace? For someone came and requested His body. Thus, not even he who buried Him was of His own kin, of those who had been benefited, of the disciples, of those who had enjoyed such boldness and ^D salvation, as all had become fugitives, all had fled. And that evil reputation, which they manufactured by means of the resurrection, saying: His disciples came and stole Him, how many did it scandalize, how many did it trip up for the time being? For indeed the report prevailed at that time, even though it was fabricated and bought with money; yet nonetheless it prevailed among some, after the seals, after such great manifestness of the truth. For the multitude did not know the account concerning the resurrection, since not even the disciples themselves understood: For they did not even know, he says, at that time, that He must rise from the dead. How many, therefore, do you think were scandalized during those days? But nonetheless the long-suffering God endured, ordering all things by His own wisdom and ineffable counsel. 5. Then, after those days, the disciples were again hiding, lying low, fleeing, fearful,

moving from place to place, they were hiding; and after fifty days, when they began to show themselves and work miracles, not even thus did they gain security. For even after those signs were performed, infinite offenses occurred ^A among the weaker: in that they themselves were being scourged, the Church was being troubled, and with them driven out, the enemies in many places were superior and stirring up tumult. For when they had attained great boldness and freedom of speech because of the miracles, then again the death of Stephen brought on a severe persecution and scattered everyone, and threw the Church into tumult and trouble: and again the disciples began to be in fear, again in flight, and again in the greatest anxiety and anguish. ^B Yet even so, the affairs of the Church were always increasing, as they were flourishing through signs, as they had bright beginnings. And one man was being let down through a window, and thus escaped from the hands of the governor; and an angel led others out, and thus delivered them from chains; and others, again, who were vexed and harassed by those who were flourishing in wealth and power, were being cared for in every way by the bazaar-people and artisans—the purple-dyers, namely, and the tent-makers, and the tanners, those dwelling in the furthest recesses of the cities and by the shore and the sea. Often, indeed, they did not even dare to appear in the middle of cities; or if they did dare, the hosts certainly dared not receive them. And thus, through trials and recreations of spirits, matters were woven, and those who had been offended not long before were later healed; and those who had wandered were led back into the way; and what had been prostrate and leveled to the ground was built up more magnificently. For this cause, although Paul had contended in prayers that the Gospel might progress through quiet alone and tranquility, the most wise and most skillful God did not grant the disciple’s request, nor, though he was often asked, did He yield to his prayers, but used these words: *My grace is sufficient for thee; for my power is made perfect in weakness* (2 Cor. XII, 9). If, therefore, you now wish to weigh the successes against the hardships, if you do not see many signs and ^C miracles, you shall nevertheless see many things not unlike miracles, which are indeed clear proofs of God’s great providence and help. But lest you hear everything from us without labor, I leave this part to you, that you may accurately and diligently collect everything, and compare it with the troublesome and bitter things, and thus, distracting your mind with a noble occupation, you may avert yourself from sadness and anguish: for hence you shall perceive the greatest consolation. Pray, give my most earnest greetings to your whole blessed house. May God grant that you are always in firm bodily health and a joyful and cheerful spirit, my most venerable and religious lady. If you wish to write me a longer letter, let me know of this, and do not deceive me; namely, that you have laid aside all sadness of mind, and lead your life in tranquility. For in this is situated the remedy of my letters, that they may produce for you great joy of mind: and you shall receive frequent letters. But do not write to me again that you receive great consolation from my letters: for I know that well enough; but [receive] as much as I desire, so that you are neither troubled in mind nor shed tears, but live tranquilly and with joy.

To the same Epist. II

^D [a] The first letter that came was indeed sufficient to calm your inflammation; but because the bitterness of sadness afflicted you in a greater manner, therefore I thought it necessary to add another letter to the former, so that you might perceive copious and abundant consolation, and your health might now be in safety. Come, therefore, I will also brush away from elsewhere the dust which you have contracted from sadness of mind. For I believe it has been turned into dust from the ulcer and the most grievous tumors. But not even so must the care of your health be deserted: for dust also, unless one repels it with the greatest care, brings destruction to the most excellent part of all, namely, infecting the transparency of the pupil, and troubling the whole eye of the one who is mourning. Lest, therefore, this also happen here, let us tear out the remnants of evil with the greatest care and zeal. But you also, rouse yourself, and offer your hand to us. For just as it is accustomed to happen in those who are of a sick body, that if the physicians indeed perform what belongs to their duty, they themselves however do not fulfill their parts, the gain of health is interrupted: in the same way, the matter is accustomed to be in the soul also. Wherefore, lest this happen, for that prudence which is required of you, take pains that you also fulfill your parts: so that on both sides a huge utility may arise. But perhaps you will say, I desire that indeed, but I cannot, nor, even though using great contention, am I equal to repelling the dense and dark cloud of sadness. These are mere excuses and mere pretexts: for I know the nobility of your mind, the strength of your pious soul, the magnitude of your prudence, the power of your wisdom, and I know it is enough for you to command this raging sea of sadness, so that all things may be rendered tranquil. But so that you may be able to achieve that more easily, let us compare those things which are of our part. By what reasoning, therefore, will you be able to effect that? Namely, if you consider with yourself all those things which are contained in the previous letter (since many things were commemorated by me in it, which look to this argument), and besides this, do that which I now command you. It is pernicious to be broken in mind for others' sins. — What then is this? When it has been brought to you that one of the Churches has perished, another is tossed by a tempest, another is overwhelmed by savage waves, another is even affected by most grievous disasters, another has accepted a wolf for a shepherd, another a robber for a governor, another an executioner for a physician, although it is permitted to grieve;

by most grievous disasters, another has accepted a wolf for a shepherd, another a robber for a governor, another an executioner for a physician, although it is permitted to grieve; yet only so far as to impose a limit upon grief. For if in those matters in which we ourselves transgress, and for which we are about to render an account, it is by no means necessary, nor even safe, but rather most destructive and harmful, to grieve with ^A excessive vehemence, much more is it superfluous and vain, and besides this, Satanic and ruinous to the soul, to be softened and broken down over the transgressions of others.

2. And that you may understand that these things are so, I will tell you an old story. A certain Corinthian, having enjoyed the sacred waters and having been cleansed by the mystery of baptism, and having partaken of that most awesome table, and having participated in all the mysteries among us without exception (many say that he even held the rank of a teacher), after this sacred rite, and after having attained to the possession of all those ineffable goods, and holding the first rank in the Church, fell into a most grievous sin. For having looked with wicked eyes upon his father's wife, he did not stop at this base and impious desire, but he also carried his licentious intention into action; and what he dared was not merely fornication, but adultery, or rather something far more grievous than adultery. Therefore, the blessed Paul, having heard of this, and not having any name suitable to bestow upon the sin, indicates the magnitude of the transgression in another way, saying: *It is actually reported that there is immorality among you, and of a kind that is not named even among the Gentiles* (1 Cor. 5:1). He did not say, "It is not committed," but, "It is not even named," wishing to show the excess of that transgression. And he delivers him to the devil, and cuts him off from the entire Church, and does not even allow him to share in a common table. ^B For he says that one should not even eat with such a person; he breathes much fire, demanding the ultimate penalty from him, using Satan as an executioner for this purpose, and through him cutting his flesh. Yet Paul, who cut the man from the Church, who did not allow him to share in a common table, who commanded all to mourn on account of him (for *you have become arrogant,* he says, *and have not rather mourned, that he who has done this deed might be removed from among you* [1 Cor. 5:2]), who drove him away from everywhere like some pestilence, who shut him out from every house, who delivered him to Satan, who demanded such a penalty from him—when he saw that he had grieved and repented of what he had done, and was singing a recantation through his deeds, he so shifted his own position, that he commanded those to whom he had ordered these things to do the opposite. For he who said, "Drive him out, turn away, mourn, and let the devil take him," what does he say now? *Reaffirm your love for him,* he says, *lest such a one be swallowed up by excessive sorrow, and we be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his designs* (2 Cor. 2:7, 11). Do you see how it is Satanic to grieve immeasurably and for the ^C work of that snare to exist, which makes the saving medicine a poison through immoderation? For it truly becomes a poison, and hands the man over to that one, whenever it falls into immoderation; wherefore he also said, *Lest we be outwitted by Satan.* What he means is this: The sheep was full of much mange; it was alienated from the flock, it was severed from the Church; but it corrected the disease, it became such a sheep as it was before; for such is the power of repentance. It has therefore become one of our flock. Let us draw him to ourselves entirely, let us receive him with open hands, let us embrace him, let us fold him in our arms, let us unite him to ourselves. For if we are unwilling to do this, then the devil outwits us, not taking his own, but taking one who has become ours through our own negligence, and, through the immoderation of despondency, plunging him down and henceforth making him his own. Wherefore he also added, *For we are not ignorant of his designs,* that he is accustomed to trip up those who are not watching, even through those things which are beneficial, when these things are not done as they ought to be.

3. If, then, over those things for which he himself has transgressed, and that such a transgression, Paul does not allow him to be carried away by much grief, but hastens and is eager, and does everything and employs every means so as to cut off the weight of despondency, declaring that immoderation is Satanic, and the greed of the devil, and a work of his malice and his wicked intentions—how, over the transgressions of others, and for which other people are to render an account, is it not the height of folly and madness to be so cut up and to grieve as even to bring such darkness, and confusion, and turbulence, and ineffable storm into the mind, and much noise there? But if you say the same things to me again, that "I wish to, but I have no strength," I will say the same things to you again, that these are pretenses and excuses; for I know the nerves of your philosophic soul. But that I may from another direction make your resistance and victory over this untimely and ruinous despondency easier for you, do this which I again command. Whenever you hear someone telling of this utter destruction, leap away quickly from these thoughts, and run to the consideration of that day, the fearful one, and meditate within yourself upon the judgement seat, the awesome one, the incorruptible Judge, the rivers of fire, those that are dragged before that seat and are seething with the most violent flame, the sharpened swords, the severe punishments, the hell that has no end, the sunless gloom, the outer darkness, the venomous worm, the chains that cannot be broken, the gnashing of teeth, and the inconsolable weeping, the theater of the world, or rather the ^D theater of both creations, [558] the upper and the lower. For *the powers of the heavens will be shaken,* he says (Matt. 24:29), Christ says. For even if they are conscious of nothing against themselves, nor are they about to render account, yet beholding the entire race of men, and the countless multitudes being judged, they do not stand there without fear. Such is the sight

there, and how great is the dread at that time. Reflect on these things, and those irrefutable proofs. For that Judge needs neither accuser, nor witnesses, nor proofs, nor arguments; but He brings everything as it was done into the midst, and before the eyes of those who have sinned. Then there will be no one present to rescue one from the punishment—no father, no son, no daughter, no mother, no other kinsman, no neighbor, no friend, no advocate, no giving of money, no abundance of wealth, no tumor of authority or power. But all these things are cast out like dust from the feet, and the one who is being judged, from the things done by him, is either acquitted or condemned. Then no one is called to judgment for things another has committed, but for what he himself has done. Having gathered all these things, therefore, and having heightened this fear, and set it against the satanic and soul-destroying sadness, stand your ground against it in the battle; in which, merely by appearing, you will be able to shatter and destroy it more easily than a spider's web. For it, ^A besides being vain and superfluous, also brings immense detriment and destruction; but that fear is necessary, and beneficial and useful, and has with it great profit and gain. But indeed, I have been swept away by the momentum of the speech, and have undertaken to counsel you, a thing not fitting for you—for to me and those who like me are weighed down and overwhelmed by a multitude of sins, this word is necessary; for it creates fear and rouses—but to you, flourishing in so many achievements of virtue, and already touching the very arch of the heavens, it could not bring even a tiny bit of fear. Therefore I will turn myself to another style of music, addressing you, and I will strike a different string; ^B since this fear cannot fasten onto you, unless it also fastens onto the angels. Let us therefore turn hither; and do you also turn yourself together with my discourse, and ponder within yourself the rewards for the things you have done rightly and with praise, the brilliant palms, the radiant crowns, the choir with the virgins, the holy bridal chambers, the bedchamber of the heavens, the seat with the angels, the confidence and familiar intercourse with the Bridegroom, that marvelous splendor, the good things that exceed all speech and understanding of the mind. Do not hold my words against me, therefore, because I have enrolled you in the choir of the virgins and the class of those holy ones, having lived in widowhood. For you have often heard me, both privately and in public, when I was explaining what the definition of virginity is, and contending that nothing would ever be an impediment to her being referred to the number and order of virgins, nay, that she would even surpass by a long interval those who had manifested a specimen of great philosophy in other matters. And for that cause Paul also, when he was describing a virgin, not only called her a virgin who was free from marriage and bridal intercourse, but also the one to whom those things that pertain to the worship of God were a care (1 Cor. 7:34). ^C And even Christ Himself, showing how much almsgiving, of which you have long held the primacy and obtained the crown, excels virginity, cast out half the part from the choir of virgins, because they had entered without this virtue, or rather because they did not possess it abundantly; for they did have oil, but more sparingly than was fitting. In contrast, those who had approached without virginity, because they were adorned with mercy, He received honorably, calling them the blessed of His Father, calling them to Himself, and bestowing upon them the inheritance of the kingdom, and proclaiming their virtues with the whole world watching (Matt. 25); and indeed, with the angels and the whole race of mortals present, He did not hesitate to call them the nurturers and hosts of Himself. This blessed voice you too will hear then; this reward you will attain most abundantly. Furthermore, since for almsgiving alone such great rewards, such great crowns, such great radiance, such great splendor, such great glory are received, if I should recount other parts of your virtue, what pardon could you obtain, when, while you ought to be keeping a feast, exulting, leading dances, and binding your head with a crown, you are instead, because one person is seized by madness and another has cast himself down, consuming yourself with anguish, and rendering your holy soul an easy encounter for the devil, whom you have not ceased to lacerate to this very day? For why should I mention your varied and manifold patience? What speech, what volume of history could be sufficient for me for this thing, if I should want to recount the calamities which you have endured from a tender age to this present time; that is, which you have received from your own and from others, from friends and from enemies, from those related by blood and those not touching you by any degree of kinship, from those flourishing in power and from the humble and abject, from those holding office and from private individuals, and finally from those who were counted among the clergy? For there is nothing of these which, if related one by one by someone, could not make a complete history. But if one should turn to other types of this virtue, and embrace in speech those afflictions which not others now, but you yourself have brought upon yourself, what rock, what iron, what adamant will he not find surpassed by you? For while you had received a body so tender and delicate, and accustomed to every kind of luxury, you have so besieged it with various afflictions, that now it is in no better state than if it had been entirely extinguished: for you have excited in it such a swarm of diseases, that it outdoes both the art of physicians, and the power and faculty of medicines, and every kind of cure, and you yourself exist in perpetual pains. ^D And as for the endurance and austerity regarding the table and the nightly vigils, what speech would one use? Although there is no longer cause for anyone to use the term "continence" or "endurance" regarding you; but another name much more excellent must be sought for these virtues. For we say a person is endowed with continence and endurance when they are vexed by some desire, and overcome it. You—

[561] …you have no one to overcome; for with such great force you breathed against the flesh right from the beginning, that you extinguished these desires of it, not by bridling the horse, but by hobbling it, casting it to the ground, and causing it to remain motionless. And at that time you achieved self-mastery, but now you have achieved freedom from passion. For the desire for luxury no longer molests you, and you have labor in holding it in check; but having once and for all caused it to disappear, and having rendered the flesh inaccessible to it, you have trained the stomach to enjoy only as much food and drink as is necessary so as not to die and bring upon yourself punishment. For this reason, I call this not fasting, nor self-mastery, but something greater than this. This can also be seen regarding your sacred wakefulness; for the desire for sleep, with that other having been extinguished, was extinguished along with it—for food is the nourishment of sleep. And you conquered it by another way as well, having from the beginning constrained nature itself, and having spent whole nights awake; yet later, by constant habit, you brought the matter into a state of nature. For just as for others it is natural to sleep, so for you it is to be awake. These things truly are marvelous and full of astonishment, even when considered by themselves; but if one were also to examine the time, that these things were being achieved at an untimely age, and the lack of those to teach you, and the multitude of those causing scandal, and that in a soul that had just deserted from an impious household to the truth, and that in a female body, and one otherwise delicate on account of the magnificence and luxury of your ancestors, how many oceans of wonders will he discover opening up in each of these things? For this reason, I will not even mention the others: your humility, your love, the remaining virtues of your holy soul. For just as I remembered these, and spoke their names, my mind caused ten thousand springs to gush forth again, and it struggles to tell of their forms, as of the previous one, even if only in part—or rather, only the subjects themselves; for that is something that seeks a very infinite discourse. But I will not suffer myself, so as not to fall from the subject I chose to complete, to be carried off into an infinite ocean. For if this were not incumbent upon me now—to uproot your despondency 341 from you—I would gladly have lingered on these words, and sailed an infinite ocean, or rather oceans, cutting through the multifaceted paths of each of your virtues, of which each path gave birth to an ocean again—whether in patience, or in humility, or in almsgiving, the multifarious kind, spread even to the very ends of the earth, or in love, which conquers ten thousand furnaces, or in wisdom, which is infinite and full of much grace, and has transcended the measures of nature. If anyone were to wish to go over the achievements born of these, he would do the same as if someone were to attempt to count the waves of the sea.

6. Therefore, having passed by these infinite oceans, ^B I will strive to show the lion by its claw, discoursing a little about your attire, about the garments worn simply and at random. For the achievement seems lesser than the others; but if one were to examine it precisely, he will find it to be very great, and one requiring a philosophical soul, and a soul that tramples upon all worldly things and is flying towards heaven itself. For this reason, not only in the New, but also in the Old Testament, when God was leading the human race through shadow and type, and the things of the commonwealth were being ordered more bodily, and there was not yet any discourse concerning heavenly things, nor mention of things to come, nor any riddle of the philosophy that now holds sway, but the laws were written for the Hebrews in a somewhat cruder and more fleshly way, with much vehemence forbidding the adornment of garments, He says these things through the prophet: *Thus says the Lord to the ruling daughters of Zion. Because the daughters of Zion are exalted, and have walked with a high neck, and with winks of the eyes, and in their walk dragging their tunics, and playing with their feet; and the Lord shall humble the ruling daughters of Zion, and will uncover their figure, and will take away the glory of their apparel. And there shall be to you instead of sweet scent, dust; and instead of a girdle, you shall be girded with a rope; and instead of the adornment of your head, you shall have baldness because of your works; and instead of a tunic of purple, you shall be girded with sackcloth; these things you shall have instead of adornment* (Isa. 3:16-18, 24). Did you see the unspeakable wrath? Did you see the most severe punishment and vengeance? Did you see the intensified captivity? From this, conjecture the magnitude of the sin. For the Lover of mankind would not have brought such a most severe punishment, had the sin that draws it upon itself not been much greater. But if the sin is great, it is evident that the achievement, which stands opposite to it, is also very great. For this reason, also when conversing with worldly women, Paul not only leads them away from wearing gold, but does not even allow them to put on expensive garments (1 Tim. 2:9). For he knows, he knows clearly, that this is a grievous disease of the soul, and one difficult to overcome, and it is the greatest indication ^C of a corrupted judgment, and one greatly needing a philosophical mind; and not only the worldly women, who have associated with men, and none of whom easily bore this exhortation, demonstrate this, but also those who seem to practice philosophy, and who have been chosen to belong to the choir of virginity. For many of them, having successfully fought against the tyranny of nature, and purely running the race of virginity, and imitating an angelic commonwealth in this, and demonstrating in a mortal body the preludes of the resurrection (For in that age, He says, *they neither marry, nor are given in marriage* [Luc. 20:35]), and having set themselves to competition with the bodiless powers, and struggling for incorruption in a corruptible body, and achieving through their deeds things that for many are not even bearable to hear, and warding off desire—just as one would a rabid dog constantly leaping upon one—and stilling the raging sea, and in wild [circumstances]

sailing with tranquility through the waves, borne by the surges of a sea that is stirred up quite violently, and standing in the furnace of natural desire, yet not being burned, but instead walking upon these coals of desire like mud, were nevertheless captured by this very desire in a very shameful and wretched way, and even when they had been able to achieve greater things, they were condemned by this.

[ζ] For the matter of virginity is so great, and it requires such great labor, that Christ, when He descended from heaven to make men into angels and to plant the heavenly mode of life here, did not even dare to command this or to prescribe it by law, but rather He legislated on dying—for what could be heavier than that?—and on being continually crucified, and on treating enemies with kindness; but He did not command virginity, but left it in the discretion and will of those who hear Him, saying, "He that is able to receive it, let him receive it" (Matt. XIX, 12). And the magnitude of the matter and the difficulty of these struggles and the sweat of these contests are great, and this place of virtue is indeed very steep and slippery: this is shown also by those who achieved many things in the Old Testament. For that great Moses, the head of the prophets, the sincere friend of God, who enjoyed such great boldness of speech that he obtained from God the rescue of six hundred thousand men liable to punishment, snatched from the stroke of the divine plague—that man, so great and so distinguished, commanded the sea, and divided the deep, and shattered the rock, and changed the air, and turned the water of the Nile into blood, and brought an army of frogs and locusts against Pharaoh, and transformed the entire creation, and displayed a myriad of other wonders, and provided many proofs of virtue; for he shone in both aspects; yet he could not even turn his eyes toward these struggles, but required marriage and the embrace of a wife and this kind of safeguard, and dared not entrust himself to the sea of virginity, fearing the waves thereof. And the patriarch too, that priest of his own son, was able to trample down the most tyrannical of natural passions, and he was able to put to death his son, and indeed his son Isaac, in the very flower of his age, in the very prime of youth, his only-begotten, his genuine son, given to him beyond all hope, and blooming with many virtues, upon whom alone he relied, and even in extreme old age; and he was able to take him onto the mountain in order to perform such a deed, and he built an altar, and gathered wood, and placed the victim upon it, and snatched the knife, and pressed the sword against the throat of the child. For he pressed it and drew blood, that adamant, or rather, firmer than any adamant. For he possesses this by the force of nature; whereas this man imitated that natural firmness and hardness by a philosophic choice, and displayed angelic impassibility through his actions. Yet nevertheless, he who was able to endure such a great and distinguished struggle, and to issue forth from the very limits of nature, dared not undertake the struggle of virginity; but he himself also feared this arena and embraced the consolation of marriage.

[η] Do you wish me to add Job to these? That righteous man, the lover of truth, the pious one, who abstained from every evil deed? (Job I, 1). This Job, therefore, crushed the face of the devil; being struck himself, not striking, he emptied the devil's entire quiver; and though assaulted by constant arrows from him, he endured every form of temptation, and each one to an immense degree. For those things which have the appearance of troubles in this life, and are truly troubled, these are, above all, poverty, disease, the loss of children, the attacks of enemies, the ingratitude of friends, famine, continuous bodily pains, insults, slanders, and evil reputation; all of which were poured out into one body and constructed against one soul, and what is even more grievous, they arrived unexpectedly. And what I say is to be understood thus: whoever is born of poor parents and brought up in such a house will easily bear the trouble of poverty, as he is exercised by usage and custom; but he who overflows with so much money and abounds in such wealth, and then suddenly slips into the opposite state, will not easily bear such a change; for to the inexperienced, who falls into it suddenly, it seems more bitter. And again: whoever is ignoble, and had obscure parents, and lives in perpetual contempt, is not very much disturbed by curses and insults; but he who, having previously enjoyed such great glory and being surrounded by everyone, and being celebrated in everyone's mouth, and proclaimed with great splendor, then falls into infamy and contempt, to him it must happen as to one who has become poor from being rich. In like manner, whoever is deprived of children, even if he loses them all, provided it is not at the same time, relieves the mourning which he takes from those who have died with the consolation of the survivors: and when that grief which the death of the former brought has been settled, if after some time it happens that another departs from life, this calamity becomes milder for him; for it does not strike a wound that is still recent, but one that has been settled and removed, which indeed takes away no small amount from the pain. But on the contrary, this man saw the entire chorus of his children snatched away in one point of time, and that too by a most bitter form of death. For this death was both violent and premature, and the time and place added no small heap to his grief; for it was at the time of a banquet, and in that house which was open to guests, and finally, the house became a tomb for them. For what new thing, which cannot be expressed in words, should I mention regarding that famine? Should I call it voluntary or involuntary? For I do not know by what name I should call it, and I find no name to impose upon such an unexpected calamity. For he abstained from the table set before him, and did not touch the foods which he saw. For the stench of the wounds by which his own body was afflicted oppressed every appetite, and poured trouble even upon the table itself. This is what he declared also in these words: "I see my food as a stench" (Job VI, 7). And the force of hunger indeed compelled him to taste the food offered; but a certain incredible stench, which proceeded from his own flesh, overcame the force of hunger. Therefore, as I have already said, I have no way to call it. Voluntary? But he was forced to eat the food set before him.

[The text begins with the continuation of the previous section, reflecting the internal struggle and suffering of Job.]

^A ...desire to taste. Coerced? But the food was at hand, and there was no one to prevent him using it. Now, how could I describe his pains, the springs of worms, the fluid flowing down, the reproaches of his friends, the contempt of his servants? For My servants did not spare me, he says, from the face of spittle; those trampling upon me, those leaping over me? For those whom I did not deem worthy of the dogs of my flocks, he says, these now have fallen upon me, and they rebuke me. Does it not seem to you that all these things are grievous? For they are indeed grievous. Shall I tell you the head of his evils, the colophon of his calamity, that which most of all choked him? The storm of unrest occurring within his own mind was what most of all suffocated him, and was unbearable; and his conscience, pure as it was, made the inward tempest all the more [violent], and darkened his reason, and disturbed his pilot. For those who are conscious of many sins in themselves, even if they suffer something terrible, have at least the means to find an explanation for what happens, by considering their own sins, and resolving the disturbance that arises from confusion. ^B Again, those who are conscious of nothing evil in themselves but are flourishing in good deeds, if they suffer something similar, knowing the doctrine of the resurrection and considering those rewards in store, they know that these happenings are but contests and subjects for countless crowns. But this man, being just and knowing nothing of the resurrection, was storm-tossed most of all by this, not knowing the cause of what he suffered, and, concerning the worms and the pains, was more deeply pricked by this very lack of understanding. And that you may learn that these things are so, when the philanthropic God deigned to tell him the cause of these contests—that *in order that you might be revealed as just, these things were permitted*—he breathed again as though he had suffered none of those painful things, and he revealed this by the things he uttered. And yet, even before learning the cause, he was in pain, but he bore it nobly, and after losing everything, he uttered that admirable voice: *The Lord gave, the Lord took away; as it pleased the Lord, so it came to pass; blessed be the name of the Lord forever* (Job 1. 21).

9. On the Difficulty of Virginity

9. But indeed, I appear to have been carried too far from the subject at hand, being enthralled by the love of this man; therefore, having added a few things, I shall return to the matters proposed. This man, then, so great and of such stature, who had trampled underfoot so many necessities of nature, did not dare himself to enter into this contest [of virginity], but he enjoyed the company of a wife, and became a father to so many children. Such is the difficulty of virginity; so high and great are its contests, and grievous its labors, requiring much fortitude. And yet, many of those who have stripped themselves for this contest have not mastered that passion, the desire for the adornment of dress, but have been captured and overcome even more than secular women. Do not say to me, "That gold is not worn, nor are silken and gold-woven garments put on, nor are jeweled brooches held." For this is the most grievous thing of all, and that which demonstrates the excess of their disease and the tyranny of the passion: that they have had the power and have contended and forced themselves, through those lowly garments, to surpass the adornment of those who wear gold and silken robes, and to appear more lovely as a result. This they do, as they think, pursuing a matter of indifference, but as the nature of the matter shows, it is a ruinous and harmful thing, and involves a deep abyss. Therefore, you must proclaim with ten thousand tongues, because of this matter, that while for virgins it has become hard to overcome, for the one living in widowhood it is so easy and light, as the truth of the facts itself has shown. For I do not marvel only at the ineffable lowliness of the attire, which surpasses even those who beg, ^C but also at the lack of affectation and the lack of artifice in the garments, the shoes, and the gait, all of which are colors of virtue, painting from the outside the philosophy stored within the soul. *For the adornment of a man*, he says, *and the laughter of his teeth, and the step of his foot, shall tell about him* (Eccli. 19. 27). For if you had not thrown to the ground and trampled upon the earthen thoughts of worldly imagination with excess, you would not have leapt forth to such a height of disdain for them, you would not have so victoriously conquered and driven away this most grievous sin. But let no one judge the discourse to be excessive if I have called this a most grievous sin. For if among secular and Hebrew women, and in that time, the transgression brought about such great punishment, in the case of those who ought to hold their citizenship in heaven, and to imitate the angelic life, and who walk in grace, what pardon could the same thing have if dared with even greater excess? For when you see a virgin constricted in her garments, dragging her tunics—which the prophet censured—breaking down in her gait, and through her voice, her eyes, and her dress, mixing the poisonous cup for those who look with longing, and digging the abyss ever deeper for those who pass by, and setting traps as a result, how then shall you call her a virgin, or rather, will you not number her with the women who play the whore? For they do not become a lure as much as these do, spreading out the wings of pleasure on all sides. For these reasons we bless you, for these reasons we admire you, that having been delivered from all these things, you have shown forth death [to the world] in this respect, not adorning yourself, but acting with vigor, not beautifying yourself, but arming yourself.