Epistulae

tormenting my chastity. And the act of fornication I escaped, but I defiled my own virginity in the intention of my heart. And I have heard many soul-beneficial words; yet among none of the teachers did I find virtue worthy of their words. After this again I heard countless tragic songs clothed in broken melodies. Again I heard a sweetly sounding cithara, the clapping of leaping dancers, the voice of jesters, much folly and buffoonery, the roar of an innumerable crowd. I saw the tears of the plundered, the pains of those led away by tyranny, the wailing of the tortured. And I saw, and behold it was not a spiritual festival, but a wind-stirred and agitated sea, eager to cover all together with its waves. Tell me, O evil thought, and demon of temporary pleasure and vainglory, what benefit to me is the sight and hearing of these things, when I am able to help none of the wronged, nor to defend the powerless, nor to correct the erring, being permitted, but perhaps about to destroy even myself as well? For just as a little clear water is obliterated by a great storm of wind and dust, so what we think we do well in life is covered over by the multitude of evils. For the tragedies are like stakes driven into the hearts of those who live in cheerfulness and joy, so as to darken the purity of psalmody. And the wailings and lamentations of wronged men are brought on by their own kind, so that the endurance of the poor may be shown. What then is the benefit to me, or rather the harm to my soul?

Therefore I am migrating to the mountains like a sparrow. For like a sparrow I was rescued from the snare of the hunters. For I dwell in this wilderness, O evil thought, in which the Lord sojourned. Here is the oak of Mamre, here is the heaven-bearing ladder and the encampments of angels that appeared to Jacob, here is the wilderness in which the people, purified, received the law and thus entered the land of promise and saw God. Here is Mount Carmel where Elijah, dwelling, pleased God. Here is the plain where Ezra, withdrawing, by the command of God brought forth all the divinely inspired books. Here is the wilderness where the blessed John, eating locusts, preached repentance to men. Here is the Mount of Olives, to which Christ ascended to pray, teaching us to pray. Here is Christ, the friend of the wilderness. For he says: "Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in their midst." Here is the narrow and straitened road that leads to life. Here are teachers and prophets, wandering in deserts and mountains and caves and the hollows of the earth. Here are apostles and evangelists and the eremitic life of monks. These things, then, I have willingly undertaken, that I might receive what has been promised to the martyrs of Christ and to all the other saints, that I might speak without falsehood:

Because of the words of your lips I kept hard paths." For I have known the God-beloved Abraham obeying the voice of God and migrating to the desert, and Isaac being oppressed, and Jacob the patriarch living as a stranger, Joseph the chaste being sold, the three youths, the inventors of continence, contending with fire, Daniel being cast a second time into the den of lions, Jeremiah the outspoken being condemned to a pit of mire, Isaiah the seer of hidden things being sawn asunder, Israel being taken captive, John the reprover of adultery being beheaded, the martyrs of Christ being put to death. And why should I speak at length, when even the Savior Himself was crucified for us, so that by His own death He might give us life and anoint and draw us all to endurance? To Him I hasten, and to the Father and the Holy Spirit. I strive to be found genuine, having judged myself unworthy of the goods of the world. Yet not even I exist for the world, but the world for me. Therefore, reflecting on these things within himself and diligently accomplishing them according to what was said to you, strive for the truth until death. For Christ also became obedient until death. And the Apostle says: "See that there is never in any of you a heart evil enough to depart from the living God, but exhort one another and build up one another until the 'today' is spoken." For "today" signifies the whole time of our life. Thus, then, living, brother, you will save yourself, delight us, and glorify God unto the ages of ages. Amen.

Admonition to the Young. Learn, you who are a monk and a faithful man and a worker of piety, and be taught evangelical polity, slavery of the body, humble mind, purity of thought, annihilation of anger. When pressed into service, add for the Lord's sake; when robbed, do not go to court; when hated, love; when persecuted, endure; when slandered, exhort. Be dead to sin, be crucified to God; transfer all your care to the Lord, so that you may be found where there are myriads of angels, festivals of the firstborn, thrones of apostles, presidencies of prophets, scepters of patriarchs, crowns of martyrs, praises of the righteous. Desire to be numbered among those righteous ones in Christ Jesus our Lord. Glory to him for the ages. Amen. To a Monk Who Has Fallen. We do not say rejoice, because there is no rejoicing for the impious. For disbelief still surrounds me, and such a great error and the great undertaking which you have done does not enter my heart, if indeed, as it appears, it is already so to all. For I marvel how such great wisdom was swallowed up, how such great precision was dissolved, whence such great blindness was poured around, how you, having considered nothing at all, wrought such and so great a destruction of souls. For if this is true, you have delivered both your own soul to the abyss and have relaxed the tension of all who hear this impiety. You have rejected the faith, you have missed the mark of the good struggle. Therefore I grieve for you. For what priest hearing will not lament? What churchman will not be cut to the heart? What layman will not be gloomy? What ascetic will not mourn?

Perhaps even the sun grew dark at your fall, and the powers of the heavens were shaken at your ruin. Even the senseless stones wept at your madness, and even your enemies lamented because of the excess of your lawlessness. O great hardness, O terrible cruelty! You did not fear God, you did not respect men, you did not regard friends, but you shipwrecked everything together, you were stripped of everything together. Therefore I again grieve for you, wretched one. You who proclaimed to all the vigor of the kingdom, you fell from the kingdom. You who instilled in all the fear of teaching, you had no fear of God before your eyes. You who preached holiness, you are found polluted. You who prided yourself on poverty, you are discovered to be a money-grubber. You who displayed the punishment of God through your instruction, you yourself procured punishment for yourself. How shall I lament you? How shall I grieve for you? How did the morning star, rising early, fall and shatter on the earth? The ears of every hearer will ring with both. How did the Nazirite, shining more than gold, grow darker than soot? The precious son of Zion, how did he become a useless vessel? He whose memory of the divine

It was spoken of by all from the Scriptures: today his memorial perished with a crash. The sharp-witted perished sharply. The many-witted wrought a manifold sin. For those who were benefited by your teaching were harmed by your ruin. Those who lent their ears to your discourse stopped their ears at your ruin. But I, mourning and gloomy and relaxed from every side, eating ashes as if bread and having cast a sack upon my wound, go through such praises for you—or rather, composing funeral orations—and I remain without consolation and without remedy, because consolation is hidden from my eyes, and there is no plaster to apply, neither oil nor bandages. For my wound is painful. From where shall I be healed? If, then, any hope of salvation still remains for you, if any brief memory concerning God, if any desire for future goods, if any fear of the punishments stored up for the unrepentant, quickly come to your senses, lift your eyes to heaven, come to awareness, cease from your wickedness, shake off the drunkenness that has poured over you, rise up against the one who cast you down. Prevail to rise from the ground. Remember the Good Shepherd, that pursuing, he will rescue you. Even if it be two legs or a lobe of an ear, leap away from the one who wounded you. Remember the mercies of God, that he heals with oil and wine. Do not despair of salvation. Take up the memory of what has been written, that the one who falls rises, and the one who turns away turns back, the one who is struck is healed, the one caught by a beast survives, the one who confesses is not cast out.

The Lord does not desire the death of the sinner as much as his return and living. Do not, as though fallen into a depth of evils, despise yourself. It is a time of forbearance, a time of patience, a time of healing, a time of correction. Have you slipped? Rise up. Have you sinned? Be still. Do not stand in the way of sinners, but leap away. For when you turn back and groan, then you will be saved. For health comes from labors and salvation from sweats. See then that you do not, wishing to keep agreements with some, transgress the agreements with God which you confessed before many witnesses. Do not then, on account of some human considerations, hesitate to come to me. For I, taking up my dead, will lament, I will tend, I will weep bitterly over the ruin of the daughter of my race. All receive you, all will share your struggle. Do not lie down, remember days of old. There is salvation, there is correction. Take courage, do not despair. There is no law condemning death without mercy, but grace postponing punishment, awaiting correction. The doors are not yet closed, the bridegroom hears, sin does not rule. Wrestle again, do not shrink, and have pity on yourself and on all of us in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom is glory and power now and always unto the ages of ages. Amen. TO A MONK WHO HAS FALLEN. A twofold fear has struck the folds of my mind from the matter concerning you. For either some unsympathetic manner, having taken the lead, casts me into a charge of misanthropy, or again, wishing to sympathize and to be softened toward passions, it wrongly changes me.

Therefore, as I am about to write this letter of mine, I have braced my hand, numb with thoughts, but I have not been able to change my face, perplexed by the dejection over you, so great is the shame poured over me on your account that even the closing of my mouth immediately falls, my lips turning to lamentation. Alas, what shall I write or what shall I consider, caught at a crossroads, if I call to mind your former vain way of life, when wealth and that base little reputation surrounded you? I shudder: when crowds of flatterers followed you, and the temporary enjoyment of luxury with manifest danger and unjust means, and when on one side the fears of magistrates fanned your thought of salvation, and on the other the tumults of public affairs shook your household, and the constriction of evils tossed your mind toward the one able to help you; when little by little you practiced looking around for the Savior, bearing the fears for your benefit, yet rescuing and protecting you, mocking him in your times of ease; when you trained yourself for a change to a dignified manner, casting away your perilous abundance, renouncing the care of your house and the company of your spouse. And wholly uplifted, like a stranger and wanderer changing fields and cities, you hastened to Jerusalem, where I myself, spending time with you, counted you blessed for your athletic labors, when you passed the weekly cycles fasting, philosophizing to God, and at the same time avoiding the company of men by turning aside in speech, and applying to yourself quiet and solitude, you shunned the tumults of public life.

You were piercing your body with a rough hair-shirt and constricting your loins with a hard belt, persistently crushing your bones. Hollowing out your flanks with privations, you loosened them down to the spinal regions, and you refused the use of a soft bandage, while from within you drew in your flanks like cupping-glasses and forced them to adhere to the renal areas; and having drained away all the fat of the flesh, you dried up the channels of the lower belly nobly, and having compressed the stomach itself with fasts, you overshadowed the rib-regions, like some projection of a roof, with the parts around the navel; and with the whole instrument contracted, during the night hours, as you made confession to God, you smoothed your beard sodden with the channels of tears. And why need I recount each detail? Remember how many holy mouths you kissed, how many sacred bodies you embraced, how many people cherished your hands as undefiled, how many servants of God, like worshippers, ran beneath you, entwining your knees. And what is the end of these things? A slander of adulterous rumor, flying swifter than an arrow, wounds our ears, piercing our vitals with a sharper sting. What artful variety of the Sorcerer has led you into such a disastrous fall? What intricate nets of the devil, having constricted you, have proved the energies of virtue immobile? Where have the narratives of your labors gone for me? For is it worthy to disbelieve?

And how shall we not accept even the formerly hidden things as credible from the evident ones, when you confined souls that had fled to God with dreadful oaths, since the superfluous part of the yes and the no has been assigned to the devil with careful observance? Thus you have become both a guarantor of pernicious perjury and, by debasing the character of asceticism, you have referred the shame back to the Apostles and to the Lord Himself. You have disgraced the boast of chastity, you have defamed the profession of temperance, we have become a tragedy of captives, our affairs are being dramatized for Jews and Greeks. You have divided the resolve of monks, you have led the more precise into fear and cowardice, still marveling at the power of the devil; you have converted the indifferent into a zeal for licentiousness. You have undone, as far as it depended on you, the boast of Christ: "Take courage," he says, "I have conquered the world and its ruler." You have mixed a cup of blasphemy for the fatherland; truly you have brought the Proverbs to fulfillment: "Like a deer shot in the liver." But what now? The tower of strength has not fallen, brother, the remedies of conversion have not been defamed, the city of refuge has not been closed. Do not remain in the depth of evils, do not surrender yourself to the Manslayer. The Lord knows how to set the broken upright. Flee not far, but run back to us. Take up again youthful labors, dissolving the low and slimy pleasure with second successes. Look up to the day of the end, which has drawn so near to our life, and know how

The rest—children of Jews and Greeks are driven together toward piety, and do not simply deny the Savior of the world, lest that most dreadful sentence overtake you: "I do not know who you are." To a Fallen Virgin. Now is the time to cry out that prophetic saying and to speak: "Who will give water to my head and a fountain of tears to my eyes, that I may weep for the wounded of the daughter of my people?" For even if these are enveloped in deep silence, and lie once for all stupefied by the calamity, and deprived by the fatal blow even of the perception of the suffering itself, yet we at least must not pass by so great a fall without tears. For if Jeremiah judged those wounded in body in war worthy of countless lamentations, what would one say to such a disaster of souls? "Your wounded," he says, "are not wounded by the sword, and your dead are not dead in war." But I bewail the sting of true death, grievous sin, and the fiery arrows of the Evil One, which have barbarously consumed souls together with bodies. How greatly would the laws of God groan, beholding such a pollution on earth, they which always forbid and cry out, long ago: "You shall not covet the wife of your neighbor," and through the holy Gospels: "That everyone who looks at a woman to desire her has already committed adultery with her in his heart," and now they behold the bride of the Master being adulterated without fear. And the spirits of the saints themselves would groan.

Phinehas the zealot, because it is not now possible for him to take the spear in his hands and bodily avenge the defilement; and John the Baptist, because he cannot leave his abode above, as he then left the desert, and run to denounce the lawlessness, and, if he must suffer, lay down his head rather than his freedom of speech. Rather, if for us, according to blessed Abel, he himself, though dead, still speaks and cries out now and has cried out more loudly than then concerning Herodias: "It is not lawful for you to have her." For even if John's body, as is necessary for nature, received the divine decree and his tongue is silent, "But the word of God is not bound." For he who, when the marriage of a fellow servant was being annulled, carried his freedom of speech to the point of death, what would he suffer beholding such an outrage concerning the holy bridal chamber of the Lord? But you, having broken the yoke of that divine communion, and having fled the undefiled bridal chamber of the true King, and having fallen shamefully into this dishonorable and impious corruption, since you have no way to escape this bitter accusation, nor is there any means or device for you to conceal the terrible thing, you proceed headlong into audacity. And since, being impious, having fallen into a depth of evils, you then despise, you deny the very covenants with the Bridegroom, crying out that you are not a virgin, nor ever made a promise, you who received many tokens of virginity and displayed many. Remember the good confession which you made before God and angels and men.

Remember the holy company and the sacred chorus of virgins, the assembly of the Lord and the Church of the saints, the aged grandmother in Christ who is now young again and flourishing in virtue, the mother in the Lord who vies with her and strives to break the power of custom by some strange and unaccustomed labors, and the sister likewise, who imitates them in some things and in others ambitiously seeks to surpass them, outshining the ancestral achievements with her virginal advantages, and who, as she thought, was earnestly summoning you, the sister, to the contest for equal things both in word and in life. Remember these things and the angelic dance around God with them, and the spiritual life in the flesh and the heavenly polity on earth. Remember the undisturbed days and the illuminated nights, the spiritual songs and the melodious psalmody, the holy prayers, the chaste bed, the temperate table, and the virginal procession. Where now is that dignified habit of yours, where the orderly demeanor and the simple dress befitting a virgin, where the beautiful blush of modesty, where the comely pallor blooming from temperance and vigil, shining more gracefully than any good complexion? How many tears did you perhaps shed in prayers for keeping your virginity unsullied? How many letters did you write to the saints, through which you begged them to intercede for you, not that you might obtain a human marriage, or rather this dishonorable corruption, but that you might not fall away from the Lord Jesus? How many gifts of the Bridegroom did you receive? Why need I even mention the honors from His people for His sake? The living together with virgins?

the processions with them? The greetings from the virgins? The praises for your virginity? The virginal blessings? The letters addressed to you as a virgin? But now, having received a slight breeze of the aerial spirit, which is now active in the sons of disobedience, you have denied all those things, and you have exchanged that precious and much-contested possession for a brief pleasure, which for a time greases your throat, but later you will find more bitter than gall. At this, who would not say, grieving: "How has a faithful city of Zion become a harlot?" And how would not the Lord himself declare to one of those now walking in the spirit of Jeremiah: "Have you seen what the virgin of Israel has done to me? I betrothed her to myself in faith and incorruptibility, in righteousness and in judgment and in mercy and in compassions, as I promised her through the prophet Hosea. But she loved strangers and, while I, her husband, am alive, she is accounted an adulteress and is not afraid, having become the wife of another." And what then of the bridegroom, the divine and blessed Paul, both that ancient one and this new one, under whose mediation and teaching you left your mother's house and were joined to the Lord? Would not each, deeply affected by such great evil, say: "The fear that I feared has come upon me, and what I dreaded has met me; for I betrothed you to one husband to present you as a pure virgin to Christ"? And I was always afraid that somehow, as the serpent deceived Eve in his cunning, so your thoughts might one day be corrupted.

For this reason, I was always trying with countless incantations to calm the turmoil of the passions, and with countless guards to preserve the bride of the Lord, and I would constantly go through the life of the unmarried woman, because only the unmarried woman cares for the things of the Lord, so that she may be holy in body and spirit. And I would expound the dignity of virginity, and, addressing you as a temple of God, I would give, as it were, a wing to your zeal, lifting you up toward Jesus, and I would help with the fear of the terrible thing against falling, saying: "If anyone destroys the temple of God, God will destroy him." And I would also add the security from the prayers, if somehow your body and soul and spirit might be preserved blamelessly at the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ. But all these efforts of mine for you have been in vain, and the outcome of those sweet labors has turned bitter for me, and I must groan again where I ought to rejoice. For behold, you have been deceived by the serpent more bitterly than Eve. Not only have your thoughts been corrupted, but along with them, your very body; and that dreadful thing, which I hesitate to speak and cannot keep silent (for it is like a fire burning in my bones, and I am weakened on all sides and cannot bear it), you have taken the limbs of Christ and made them the limbs of a harlot. This alone among all evils is incomparable, this is a novel audacity in life. "For go through the islands of Chettieim and see; and send to Kedar and consider carefully whether such things have happened, whether nations will exchange their gods, and they themselves are not gods." But the virgin exchanged her glory for her shame. The

The heaven shuddered at this, and the earth trembled even more violently. Now too the Lord says: "The virgin has done two evil things: she abandoned me, the true and holy bridegroom of holy souls, and fled to an impious and lawless corrupter of both soul and body. She withdrew from God, her savior, and made her limbs slaves to impurity and lawlessness. She forgot me and followed after her lover." It would have been better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck and he were thrown into the sea, than that he caused the Lord's virgin to stumble. What insolent slave has raged so far as to throw himself upon his master's bed? What robber has been driven to such a pitch of madness as to lay hands on the very offerings of God—not lifeless vessels, but living bodies with a soul dwelling within, made in the image of God? Who has ever been heard of, in the middle of a city and at high noon, daring to paint the forms of unclean swine on a royal image? A man who breaks a human marriage dies without mercy on the testimony of two or three witnesses. How much worse a punishment, do you think, will be deemed fitting for one who has trampled on the Son of God, corrupted the bride betrothed to him, and insulted the spirit of virginity? "But she wanted it," he says, "and I did not force her against her will." Indeed, the wanton mistress herself raged after the chaste Joseph, but her madness did not overcome his virtue, nor, when her hands forced him, was he compelled to lawlessness. "But that was her destiny," he says, "and she was no longer a virgin.

And if I had not wished it, she would have been corrupted by another. For even the Son of Man, it is said, had to be betrayed, but woe to the one through whom he was betrayed; and scandals must come, but woe to the one through whom they come. Upon these things: "Does not the one who falls rise again, or the one who turns away return?" Why did the virgin turn away with a shameless turning, although she heard Christ the bridegroom speaking through Jeremiah: "And I said after she had committed fornication all these things: return to me, and she did not return. Is there no resin in Gilead, or is there no physician? Why did healing not come for the daughter of my people?" You would find many remedies for evil in divine Scripture, many medicines from destruction to salvation: the mysteries of death and resurrection, the words of fearful judgment and eternal punishment, the teachings of repentance and remission of sins, those countless examples of return: the drachma, the sheep, the son who consumed his patrimony with prostitutes, the one who was lost and found, the dead one who revived. Let us use these aids against evil, through these let us heal our own soul. Take into consideration the last day (for you will not live in this age alone) and the distress, the choking, the hour of death, the pressing judgment of God, the hastening angels, and the soul in these things terribly troubled, bitterly scourged by a sinful conscience, pitiably turning back to things here, and the inexorable necessity of that long departure.

Picture in your mind the final catastrophe of the common life, when the Son of God comes in his glory with his angels—"For he will come and will not be silent"—when he comes to judge the living and the dead and to give to each according to his deed; when that trumpet, sounding something great and fearful, awakens those sleeping from eternity, and those who have done good will go forth to a resurrection of life, and those who have done evil to a resurrection of judgment. Remember the theophany of Daniel, how it brings the Judgment before our eyes. "I was watching," he says, "until thrones were set and the Ancient of Days sat down, and his garment was white as snow, and the hair of his head like clean wool, and his wheels were blazing fire. A river of fire flowed before him. A thousand thousands ministered to him and ten thousand myriads stood by him. He sat in judgment, and books were opened"—the good, the evil, the manifest, the hidden, the deeds, the thoughts, all at once clearly revealing everything to the hearing of all, both angels and men. In the face of these things, what must those who have lived wickedly be? Where then will that soul sink, which suddenly appears before the eyes of so many spectators, full of shame? And with what body will it endure those endless and unbearable torments, where there is unquenchable fire and an immortal worm punishing, and the dark and dreadful abyss of Hades, and bitter lamentations, and terrible wailing, and weeping, and gnashing of teeth, and the horrors have no end?

There is no escape from these after death, no thought or device to slip away from the bitter torments. It is possible to flee them now. While it is possible, let us lift ourselves up from the fall and not despair of ourselves, if we turn away from evils. Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. "Come, let us worship and fall down before him and weep before him." The Word calls and cries out, summoning us to repentance. There is a way of salvation, if we wish. Death swallowed mightily, but know well that God has again removed every tear from every face of those who repent. The Lord is faithful in all his words. He does not lie when he says: "If your sins are like scarlet, I will whiten them like snow; if they are like crimson, I will whiten them like wool." The great physician of souls is ready to heal your affliction. Those are his words; that sweet and saving mouth said: "Those who are strong have no need of a physician, but those who are ill. I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners, to repentance." The Lord wishes to cleanse you from the pain of the wound and to show you light from darkness. The good Shepherd seeks you, leaving behind those that have not strayed. If you give yourself over, he will not hesitate nor disdain you, the lover of mankind, to carry you on his own shoulders, rejoicing that he has found his lost sheep. The Father stands and awaits your return from error. Only turn back, and, while you are still far off, running up he will fall upon your neck and embrace with friendly kisses the one already cleansed by repentance.

And he will clothe you in a garment, the first, having stripped off the old man together with his deeds, and will place a ring on hands washed clean of the blood of death, and will put sandals on feet that have turned from the evil path to the course of the Gospel of peace. And he will proclaim a day of gladness and joy to his own, both angels and men, and will celebrate your salvation in every way. "For I tell you, amen," he says, "that joy arises in heaven before God over a single repentant sinner." And if someone among those who seem to stand firm should object that you were received too quickly, the good Father himself will plead on your behalf, saying: "There must be rejoicing and gladness, because this daughter of mine was dead and has come back to life, and was lost and has been found." To the companion Gregory: "Who will give me wings like a dove?" Or how may my old age be renewed, so that I might be able to cross over to your love and both give rest to the longing I have for you and relate the sorrows of my soul and find through you some consolation for my afflictions? For at the falling asleep of the blessed Eusebius the bishop, no small fear seized us, lest those who have long been lying in wait for the Church of our metropolis and wish to fill it with heretical tares, now seizing the opportunity, should uproot the piety sown with much labor in the souls of men by their own wicked teachings and cut apart its unity, which they have done in the case of many Churches. Since also letters have come to us from the

of the clergy, entreating not to be overlooked at such a time. Looking around, I recalled your love and right faith and the zeal you always have for the Churches of God. And for this reason I have sent the beloved Eustathius the fellow deacon to beseech your reverence and to urge you on in all the labors for the Churches, and to set the present matter in order, both to give rest to my old age by this meeting and to restore to the right Church its renowned piety, by giving her together with us (if indeed we are deemed worthy to join you in the good work) a shepherd according to the will of the Lord, able to guide his people. For we have before our eyes a man whom you yourselves do not ignore; if we are deemed worthy to obtain him, I know that we shall acquire great confidence before God and shall confer a very great benefit upon the people who have summoned us. But I entreat you again and again, setting aside all hesitation, to come and to anticipate the difficulties arising from the winter.

To Eusebius, bishop of Samosata. We have only just now been able to find a deacon to carry a letter to your reverence, since those among us have so cowered before the winter that they cannot bear even to put the smallest part of their heads out of their rooms. For we have been buried under such a mass of snow that, overwhelmed in our very houses, we have been lurking in our dugouts for two months already. You will therefore certainly forgive us, knowing both the timidity of Cappadocian character and the sluggishness of our bodies, if we did not write sooner, nor even bring to the attention of your honor the matters from Antioch, which you have surely long since learned, as is likely, and which it is stale and cold to report; nevertheless, considering it no small matter to communicate even what is known, we have sent the letters brought by the reader. So much for that. Constantinople has had Demophilus for a long time now, as these very men will report and as has certainly been proclaimed to your holiness. And some pretense of orthodoxy and piety concerning him is unanimously rumored by all who arrive, so that even the divided parts of the city have come together and some of the neighboring bishops have accepted the union. Our own people have proved no better than our hopes. For immediately after your departure, they set upon us, said many grievous things, did many things, and finally withdrew, confirming the schism for us. Whether anything better will come of it and whether they will cease from their wickedness is unclear to all except God. Such are the present circumstances.

The rest of the Church is stable by the grace of God, and prays together with the spring to see you again in our midst and to be renewed through your good teaching. As for me, my body is no better than usual. To Arcadius the bishop. I gave thanks to the holy God upon reading the letter of your reverence, and I pray both that I myself may be worthy of the hope you have in us, and that you may receive the full reward for the honor you pay us in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. We rejoiced greatly that, having taken up a concern befitting a Christian, you have raised up a house for the glory of the name of Christ and have truly loved, as it is written, the seemliness of the house of the Lord, preparing for yourselves the heavenly dwelling that is reserved in the place of rest for those who love the name of Christ. If we are able to procure relics of martyrs, we pray to contribute ourselves to your zeal. For if a righteous man is to be for an eternal memorial, we shall evidently be partners in the good memory that will be given to you by the Holy One.

To Innocentius the Bishop. To whom else was it fitting to instill courage in the timid and to awaken the sleeping, than to your piety of our Lord, who made known your perfection in all things also in this, by condescending to come down even to us the humble, as a true disciple of the one who said, "There I am in your midst," not as one reclining, but "as one who serves." For you deigned yourself to serve us your spiritual joy and to take up our souls with your honored letters and, as it were, to embrace our childishness with your own greatness. Pray, therefore (we beseech your good soul), that we may be worthy both to receive the benefits from you great ones and to acquire a mouth and wisdom to dare to respond to you who are led by the Holy Spirit, of whom we hear that you are a friend and true glorifier, we confess great grace for your firm and unwavering love for God, praying that our portion be found among the true worshipers, in whom we are persuaded your perfection also is, and of the great and true Bishop who filled the whole world with his own miracle, we beseech the Lord. To Bosporius the Bishop. How do you think my soul was pained by the hearing of that slander which some of those who do not fear the Judge poured over me, who will destroy all who speak falsehood? So that the whole night I remained almost sleepless over the words of your love, so deeply did the grief touch my heart.

Indeed, according to Solomon, "Slander humbles a man," and no one is so insensible as not to suffer in soul and be bowed down to the ground when falling among mouths facile for falsehood. But it is necessary to endure all things, to bear all things, casting our own defense upon the Lord, who will not overlook us, because "He who slanders a poor man provokes his Maker." Those who have composed this novel drama of blasphemy against us seem utterly to disbelieve the Lord, who declared that we shall give account even for an idle word on the day of judgment. But I—tell me—did I anathematize the most blessed Dianius? For this they reported of us. Where or when? In whose presence? On what pretext? In bare words or in writing? Following others or myself taking the lead and authoring the audacity? O the shamelessness of those who utter everything lightly! O the contempt for the judgments of God! Unless, perhaps, they will also add to their fiction this tragic touch, that I was once out of my mind, so as to be ignorant of my own words. For being in possession of my own reason, I know that I have done no such thing, nor ever intended it from the beginning. Rather, I am conscious of this in myself, that from my earliest youth I was nurtured in affection for him, and I looked to the man as one venerable to behold, as magnificent, and as possessing so much of the sacred in his appearance.

Since I still had his company, I then came to know him from the goods of the soul, and rejoiced in his society, learning the simplicity, nobility, and liberality of his character, and all the other qualities peculiar to the man: the gentleness of his soul, the combination of magnanimity and mildness, the seemliness, the freedom from anger, the cheerfulness and approachableness blended with dignity. So I counted him among the most illustrious in virtue. Concerning the last events of his life (for I will not conceal the truth), we grieved over him with an unbearable grief, along with many in the fatherland who fear the Lord, at the subscription of the creed brought by those around George from Constantinople. Then, that man, who by his gentleness of character and fairness endured to satisfy all with paternal bowels, having already fallen into the illness by which he departed from life, summoned us and said, with the Lord as witness, that he had subscribed to the document from Constantinople, but had chosen nothing in denial of the faith set forth at Nicaea by the holy Fathers; nor did he hold otherwise in his heart than as he had received from the beginning, but he even prayed not to be separated from the portion of those blessed bishops, the three hundred and eighteen who proclaimed the pious teaching to the world; so that we, having dissolved all the division of our hearts, might approach communion and cease grieving. Such, then, are our relations with the man.

If anyone claims that we have been aware of some blasphemy against him, let him not whisper slavishly in a corner, but let him stand forth openly and refute with frankness. The canonical letters: As much as a painful rumor previously distressed us, ringing in our ears, so much did the most God-beloved bishop, our brother Bosporius, delight us by relating the more favorable aspects of your piety. For he said that, by the grace of God, all those rumors were fabrications of men who did not accurately know the truth concerning you. He added that he also found among you unholy slanders against us, of such a sort as would be uttered by those who do not expect to give account even for an idle word before the Judge on the day of his just retribution. So I gave thanks to the Lord, both because I myself was healed of the harm regarding you, which, as it seems, I had admitted from the slander of men, and because I heard that you have rejected the false suppositions about us, from what you heard our brother confirm; who, in presenting his own case to you, also demonstrated ours entirely. For the disposition of faith is one in both of us, since we are also heirs of the same Fathers who once proclaimed the great herald of piety at Nicaea; of which all other things are to be learned without slander, but the term homoousios, having been badly interpreted by some, there are those who have not yet accepted; whom one might justly blame, and yet again deem them worthy of pardon.

Not to follow the Fathers and to set their voice as more authoritative than one's own opinion is worthy of accusation, as being full of self-will. But again, to hold this same voice suspect because it has been slandered by others—this somehow seems to free them moderately from the accusation. For in fact those who assembled against Paul of Samosata slandered the expression as not being of good omen. For they said that the term "homoousios" presents a concept of substance and of things derived from it, so that the substance, being divided, gives the appellation "homoousios" to the things into which it was divided. This notion has some reason in the case of bronze and the coins made from it, but in the case of God the Father and God the Son, no substance is observed as older or superior to both; for this is beyond impiety even to think or utter. For what could be older than the unbegotten? And from this blasphemy the faith in Father and Son is also destroyed; for things subsisting from one are siblings to each other. And since at that time there were still those who said that the Son was brought into being from non-being, in order to cut off this impiety as well, the term "homoousios

They have addressed them. For the Son's connection to the Father is timeless and without interval. And the preceding words also make clear that this is the intention of these men. For having said "Light from Light" and that the Son was generated, not made, from the substance of the Father, they added to these the term "homoousios," demonstrating that whatever account of light one might assign to the Father, this same account will also apply to the Son. For true light in relation to true light, according to the very concept of light, will admit no variation. Since, therefore, the Father is unoriginate light, and the Son is generated light, but each is light and light, they rightly said "homoousios" in order to represent the equal honor of the nature. For things that are siblings are not said to be homoousios to one another, as some have supposed, but rather when both the cause and that which has its existence from the cause are of the same nature, they are called homoousios. And this term also corrects the evil of Sabellius; for it abolishes the identity of hypostasis and introduces the complete concept of the persons; for a thing is not homoousios to itself, but one thing to another; so that it is correct and pious, both distinguishing the particularity of the hypostases and presenting the unalterable character of the nature. And when we are taught that the Son is from the substance of the Father and is generated, but not made, let us not fall into the corporeal notions of passions. For the substance was not divided from the Father into the Son, nor did it flow forth and generate, nor did it project like plants their fruits, but the manner of the divine generation is ineffable and inconceivable by human reasonings.

It is indeed characteristic of a lowly and fleshly mind to liken the eternal to the perishable and temporary, and to suppose that, as bodily things are generated, so God generates in like manner, when one ought rather to take the opposite starting points for piety, namely, that since mortal things are thus, the Immortal is not thus. Therefore one must neither deny the divine generation nor defile one's own mind with bodily concepts. Now the Holy Spirit is numbered with the Father and the Son, and for this reason is above creation, and is ranked as we have been taught in the Gospel by the Lord who said: "Go and baptize in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." But he who sets something before the Son or calls the Father older resists the ordinance of God, is alien to sound faith, and does not preserve the manner of doxology he received, but devises a novel expression for himself to please men. For if something is higher than God, it is not from God. For it is written: "And the Spirit is from God." But if it is from God, how is it older than that from which it is? And what madness is it, when there is one unbegotten, to say that something else is higher than the unbegotten? But it is not even prior to the Only-begotten; for there is nothing between Son and Father. And if it is not from God, but is through Christ, it does not exist at all. So innovation concerning the rank entails the denial of its very existence and is a rejection of the whole faith. Therefore it is equally impious to bring it down to the level of creation and to set it above the Son or the Father, whether in time or in rank.

What I have heard is sought by your reverence is this: but if the Lord grants that we come together in the same place, perhaps we might say something more about these matters, and we ourselves might find some assurance from you concerning what we seek. To the Chorepiscopi: The absurdity of the matter about which I write, that it was even suspected and spoken of at all, filled my soul with pain, but for the moment it seemed to me unbelievable. Therefore, let the letter concerning it be received by him who is conscious of it as a remedy, by him who is not conscious as a precaution, and by him who is indifferent—which I pray is not found among you—as a solemn protest. What is it that I say? Some say that certain of you take money from those being ordained, and that you conceal it under the name of piety. But this is worse. For if someone does evil under the guise of good, he is worthy of double punishment, because he both does what is not good and uses, so to speak, good as a co-worker to accomplish the sin. If these things are so, let it not happen in the future, but let it be corrected, since it is necessary to say to the one who receives the money what was said by the Apostles to the one who wished to give, so that he might purchase participation in the Holy Spirit: "May your money be with you for destruction." For the one who wishes to buy through inexperience is more tolerable than the one who sells the gift of God. For a sale has taken place, and what you received freely, if you sell it, you will be deprived of the grace as if sold to Satan. For you introduce trafficking into spiritual things and into the Church, where we have been entrusted with the body and blood of Christ. These things must not happen thus.

I will explain the stratagem. They think they are not sinning because they do not take beforehand, but take after the ordination. But to take is to take, whenever it occurs. I therefore urge you: set aside this revenue, or rather this approach to Gehenna, and do not, by soiling your hands with such gains, render yourselves unworthy of celebrating the holy mysteries. Forgive me. First I disbelieved, then, being convinced, I now threaten. If anyone after this letter of mine does any such thing, he will withdraw from the altars here and will seek a place where he can resell the gift of God which he buys. For we and the Churches of God have no such custom. I will add one thing and then stop. These things happen because of love of money. And love of money is both the root of all evils and is called idolatry. Therefore do not prefer idols to Christ for the sake of a little silver, nor again imitate Judas, betraying a second time, for a bribe, the one who was once crucified for us. For the places and the hands of those who receive these fruits will be called Akeldama.

To the Chorepiscopi. It greatly distresses me that the canons of the Fathers have now disappeared and all precision has been driven from the Churches, and I fear that, as this indifference gradually advances, the affairs of the Church will fall into complete confusion. Those who serve the Church were formerly received by the custom prevailing in the Churches of God only after being tested with all exactness; and their entire conduct was scrutinized—whether they were not abusive, not drunkards, not prone to quarrels, whether they disciplined their youth so as to be capable of achieving sanctification, without which no one will see the Lord. And this was examined by the presbyters and deacons living with them, and they reported to the chorepiscopi, who, after receiving the votes of those who truly testified and informing the bishop, would then enroll the servant in the order of the clergy. But now, first, you have thrust us aside and do not deign to refer matters to us, but have vested the entire authority in yourselves. Then, being negligent of the matter, you have permitted presbyters and deacons to introduce into the Church whomever they wish from an unexamined life, through partiality, whether from kinship or from some other friendship, the unworthy. Hence, many servants are counted in each village, but no one worthy of the service of the altar, as you yourselves testify, being at a loss for men in the elections. Since, therefore, I see the matter now proceeding to an incurable state, especially now, when most are in fear

of the levy, presenting themselves for service, I have necessarily come to renew the canons of the Fathers, and I write to you to send me the list of each village of those serving, and by whom each has been introduced, and in what manner of life he is. Keep the list also yourselves, so that your records may be compared with the documents deposited with us, and that no one may be allowed to enroll himself whenever he wishes. Thus, after the first indiction, if any have been introduced by presbyters, let them be cast back among the laity. But let an examination of them be made by you from the beginning, and if they are worthy, let them be received by your vote. Cleanse the Church by driving away those unworthy of her, and henceforth examine those who are worthy and receive them, but do not count them before referring to us, or know that he who is received into service without our consent will be a layman. To the Presbyter Gregory. I have read your letter with all patience, and I marvel how, when you could have defended yourself to us briefly and easily by your actions, you deign to persist in the things of which you are accused, and attempt to cure the incurable with long words. Neither first nor alone, O Gregory, have we legislated that women should not cohabit with men. But read the canon issued by our holy Fathers at the Council of Nicaea, which plainly forbade the keeping of subintroductae. Celibacy has its dignity in this, in being separated from association with women.

If someone, while professing the name, does in fact the things of those who live with women, it is clear that he is pursuing the dignity of virginity in title, while not abstaining from the shameful pursuit of pleasure. Therefore, you ought to have yielded to our demand all the more readily, in proportion as you claim to be free from every bodily passion. For I am not persuaded that a man who has reached seventy years of age lives passionately with a woman, nor did we define what we defined as if some improper act had occurred, but because we were taught by the Apostle not to place a hindrance or stumbling block before a brother. And we know that what is done soundly by some will become an occasion for sin for others. For this reason we ordered, following the ordinance of the holy Fathers, that you be separated from the woman. Why then do you accuse the chorepiscopus and recall old enmity? And why do you blame us as having easily receptive ears for admitting slanders, rather than blaming yourself for not being willing to desist from your habit with the woman? Therefore, expel her from your house and place her in a monastery. Let her be with virgins, and you serve among men, so that the name of God may not be blasphemed because of us. As long as you do these things, the myriads of letters you write will avail you nothing, but you will end your days idle and will give account to the Lord for your idleness. But if you dare, without correcting yourself, to cling to the priesthood, you will be an anathema to the whole people, and those who receive you will be excommunicated in every Church.

To Pergamius. I am by nature prone to forgetfulness, and the multitude of my occupations has come upon me, intensifying this natural infirmity. Thus, even if I do not remember having received a letter from your nobility, I am persuaded that you have written to us; for you would certainly not speak falsely. But the fault for not having replied lies not with me, but with the one who did not demand the responses. Now, however, this letter has come to you, both fulfilling an apology for what has passed and giving a beginning for a second address. So, when you write to us, do not think of yourself as having begun a second round of correspondence, but as having discharged what was owed by the present letter. For even if our reply is a response to your prior letters, yet by exceeding more than double in the measure of each, it will fulfill the order. Do you see what sort of subtleties idleness compels us to devise? But you, best of men, cease to offer great accusations in small words—accusations that have no excess of wickedness, indeed; for forgetfulness of friends and contempt arising from power together contain all that is terrible. For either we do not love according to the Lord’s commandment, and do not possess the character imposed upon us; or we have been filled with empty pride and arrogance, puffed up, and fall into the inescapable judgment of the devil. So, if you held such thoughts about us when you used these words, pray that we may flee the wickedness you have discovered in our manner; but if your tongue came to these words by some unexamined habit, we will console ourselves and ask your goodness to add testimonies from the facts.

For be well assured of this, that the present care has become for us an occasion of humility. So we will forget you only when we also are ignorant of ourselves. Do not, therefore, ever make your occupations a sign of character and ill-will. To Meletius the Bishop. If it were possible for your reverence to see the magnitude of the joy which you create in us whenever you write, I know that you would never have passed over any pretext for letters, but would have devised many ways to make your letters frequent, knowing the reward laid up by the compassionate Lord for the relief of afflictions. For everything here is filled with pain, and our only refuge from evils is the thought of your holiness, which is made more vivid to us by the communion of your letters, filled as they are with all wisdom and grace. So, when we take your letter in hand, we first look at its length and love it in proportion to its abundance. Then, as we go through it, we rejoice at every encounter with the discourse, and we are distressed as we approach the end of the letter. Thus everything you say in your letters is good. For from a good heart the abundance is good. And if we should be deemed worthy, through your prayers, while we are still on earth, of meeting you face to face and receiving from your living voice beneficial teachings, or provisions for both the present life and the future, we would judge this the greatest of goods and set it for ourselves as a prelude of God's favor.

And indeed we would have held to this impulse, had not our most genuine and in every way brotherly friends restrained us—whose intention, lest I publicize it in writing, I have related to brother Theophrastus, that he might report each detail to your perfection. To Brother Gregory: How could I contend with you in letters? How could I justly reproach your kindness in all things? Tell me, who falls into the same nets a third time? Who falls into the same trap a third time? Not even one of the irrational animals would readily suffer this. You brought me a single letter, as if from the most reverend bishop and our common uncle, deceiving me—I know not for what purpose. I received it as from a bishop, conveyed through you. For why should I not have? I showed it to many of my friends in great joy, and I gave thanks to God. The fabrication was exposed, the bishop himself having denied it by his own voice. We were put to shame by that affair; we wished the earth would open for us, having been enveloped in the reproach of trickery, falsehood, and deceit. A second letter was again delivered to me, as if sent to me from the bishop himself through your servant Asterius. That one too was false; the bishop himself testified before the most reverend brother Anthimus, as he reported to us. A third letter again was brought to us by Adamantius. How was I to receive what was sent through you and yours? I would have wished to have a heart of stone, so as neither to remember the past nor to perceive the present, in order to bear every blow with head bowed like the cattle.

But what am I to do with my own reasoning, which after a first and second attempt can accept nothing without examination? I have written this, taking aim at your simplicity, which, though otherwise becoming to Christians, I see as unsuited to the present time, so that at least for the future you may guard yourself and spare me, since—for I must speak to you with frankness—you are an untrustworthy mediator in such matters. However, whoever the senders may be, I have given them the appropriate answers. So whether you were testing me or truly sent the letter after receiving it from the bishops, you have the responses. But you ought to have been concerned with other things at present, being a brother and not yet forgetful of nature, nor regarding us as in the position of an enemy—since we have entered a life that wears down our body and also afflicts our soul by exceeding our strength. Yet, since you are so hostile, for this reason you should now be present and share in the affairs. For, it is said, let brothers be useful in times of need. But if the most reverend bishops truly accept a meeting with us, let them make known a specified place and time, and summon us through their own men. For just as I do not deem it unworthy to go to meet my own uncle, so too, if the summons is not made with the proper form, I will not endure it.

To the divine Gregory. I have been silent. But shall I always be silent, and shall I endure for longer to confirm against myself the most grievous penalty of silence, neither writing myself nor hearing you address me? For my part, having persevered up to the present in this gloomy resolve, I think it fitting for me also to say the words of the prophet: "I have persevered like a woman in labor," always desiring either a meeting or a word, and always failing because of my own sins. For I can conceive no other cause for what is happening, except that I am convinced that I am paying the penalty for old sins in the separation from your love, if indeed it is even holy to speak of separation in your case and in that of anyone at all, let alone in ours, for whom from the beginning you have been in the place of a father. But my sin now, like some deep cloud hanging over, has produced ignorance of all those things. For when I look and see that nothing else is accomplished by this than that it brings grief to me, how can I not reasonably attribute the present circumstances to my own faults? But whether sins are the causes of what has happened, let this be the end of my troubles for me; or whether there was some design being worked out, the object of zeal has certainly been fulfilled. For the time of this loss is not short. Therefore, no longer able to bear it, I have been the first to break the silence, urging that we remember both ourselves and yourself, who more than

As is natural for kinship, you have shown care for us throughout your life, and now you love the city for our sake, but not through us do you estrange yourself from the city. If there is any consolation in Christ, any communion of the Spirit, any bowels of compassion and pity, fulfill our prayer: set down here the gloomy things, give some beginning to the brighter things for the future, yourself leading others to the best, but not following another to what is not right. For no bodily characteristic has been thought so proper to anyone as the peaceful and gentle nature of your soul. It would be fitting, then, for such a one to draw others to himself and to provide for all who approach you, as if from the fragrance of some perfume, to be filled with the goodness of your character. For even if there is something resistant now, yet a little later it will recognize the good of peace itself. As long as slanders have room from the division, it is necessary that suspicions always increase for the worse. It is not fitting for those others to neglect us, but most of all for your honor. For if we are committing some error, we will become better when admonished. But this is impossible without meeting. If we are doing no wrong, why are we hated? These things I put forward as my own self-justification. But what the Churches would say on their own behalf, enjoying no good from our division, it is better to keep silent. For I have not used words to cause pain, but to stop the painful things.

Your understanding has certainly not escaped anything, but you yourself would devise in your mind and tell others things far greater and more perfect than what we conceive, since you saw the harms to the Churches before we did and are more grieved than we are, having long been taught by the Lord to despise none of the least things. Now the harm is not limited to one or two, but whole cities and peoples of our own share in the misfortunes. What need is there even to mention what sort of report about us will reach foreign lands? It would therefore be fitting for your magnanimity to yield contentiousness to others, or rather to remove it even from their soul, if possible, and yourself to overcome the painful things through forbearance. For to defend oneself is characteristic of anyone who is angry. But to be superior even to anger itself—this belongs to you alone and to anyone who resembles you in virtue. I will not say that the one who is angry with us directs his wrath against those who have done no wrong. Whether by presence, or by letter, or by summoning him to yourself, or by whatever means you wish, console our soul. For it is our prayer that your piety appear in the Church, and that you heal both us and the people together by your very sight and the words of your grace. If this is possible, it is best; but if something else seems good, we will accept that as well. Only be persuaded to make known to us what appears best to your wisdom.

To the divine Gregory. I gladly saw my brother before (for why should I not, since he is both my brother and such a man?), and now I have received him when he came to stay with the same disposition, having turned aside nothing of my own affection. For may nothing of such a kind ever happen that would make me forget nature and become hostile toward my own people. But I considered the man's presence to be a comfort both for the infirmities of the body and for the other pains of the soul, and I was greatly delighted by the letters brought through him from your honor; therefore I have long desired to come, for no other reason than that we too might not add some gloomy narrative to life, as if there were some division among those most closely related to each other, producing pleasure for enemies and misfortune for friends, and displeasing to God, who established the character of his own disciples in perfect love. Hence I necessarily speak in reply, urging you to pray for us and to care for the other matters as for your own people. Since we ourselves, through ignorance, do not have the understanding of the meaning of events, we have judged it right to consider as true that meaning which you yourself may deign to explain to us. It is necessary that the remaining matters also be defined by your great-mindedness: our meeting with each other, the suitable time, and the appropriate place.

If then your reverence deigns at all to descend to our lowliness and to impart to us some discourse, whether you wish the meeting to take place with others or by yourself, we will comply, having once for all resolved this for ourselves: to serve you in love and to do in every way what is written to us by your piety for the glory of God. As for the most reverend brother, we compelled him to tell us nothing from his tongue, because his word had not previously been attested by his deeds. To Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria. I have read the letters of your holiness, through which you lamented the governor of Libya, that man of ill-omened name. And we have lamented our own fatherland, that it is mother and nurse of such evils. We have also lamented the Libya neighboring yours, which enjoys our evils and has been given over to the bestial character of a man who lives together with cruelty and licentiousness alike. This then was the wisdom of the Preacher: "Woe to you, city whose king is young" (and here there is something even more grievous) "and whose rulers do not eat from the night," but in the middle of the day they indulge in licentiousness, raging after others' marriages more irrationally than beasts. For that man, the lashes await from the righteous Judge, to be measured back in equal measure to those he himself first inflicted on his saints. And our Church has been informed from the letters of your piety, and all will consider him an abomination, sharing with him neither fire, nor water, nor shelter, if indeed there is any benefit from a common and unanimous condemnation for those so possessed.

A sufficient monument for him is the very letter that is read everywhere. For we shall not cease showing it to all, both his intimates and friends and strangers. Certainly, even if the penalties do not immediately touch him, as in the case of Pharaoh, yet at some later time they will bring him a heavy and painful retribution. To the Church of Parnassus, Consolatory. Following an ancient custom that has prevailed through long tradition, and displaying to you the fruit of the Spirit, love according to God, we visit your reverence through this letter, sharing with you both the grief over what has happened and the concern for matters at hand. Concerning the sorrowful events, we say this much: that it is time for us to look to the Apostle's injunctions and not to grieve "as do the rest, who have no hope," nor yet to be without feeling toward what has happened, but to be aware of the loss while not being overcome by grief, blessing the shepherd for his end, as one who ended his life in ripe old age and rested in the greatest honors from the Lord. Concerning the remaining matters, we have this to advise: that it is fitting, laying aside all dejection, to come to yourselves and to rise up for the necessary care of the Church, so that holy God may attend to his own.

the flock, and would provide you with a shepherd according to his own will, shepherding you with knowledge. TO THE GOVERNOR OF NEOCAESAREA: "The wise man, even if he dwells far from the land, even if I never see him with my eyes, I judge him a friend," is a saying of Euripides the tragedian. So that, even if our meeting face to face has not yet granted us knowledge of your great nature, we say we are your friends and intimates. Do not judge this speech to be flattery. For we had a reputation as a mediator of friendship, loudly proclaiming your qualities to all men; and from the time, moreover, when we met with the most reverend Elpidius, we came to know you so much and were so utterly captivated by you, as if we had lived together for a long time and had knowledge of the good things in you through long experience. For the man did not cease recounting to us each of your qualities: the magnificence of your soul, the loftiness of your mind, the gentleness of your ways, your experience in affairs, your wisdom of judgment, the dignity of your life, your tempered cheerfulness, the power of your speech, and all the other things which he himself enumerated in his lengthy conversation with us, but which it was not possible for us to write, lest we extend the letter beyond measure. How then could I not love such a man? How could I restrain myself from indicating the emotion of my soul, even by crying out? Receive therefore the address, O admirable one, as offered to you from a true and guileless friendship; for our words are far from servile flattery. And count us among the number of your friends, showing yourself by continuous letters and consoling us for your absence.

To Hesychius: Many things from the beginning have united me to your honor: the common love for learning, which is widely spread by those who have experienced it, and the long-standing friendship with the admirable man Terentinus. But when the most excellent and all-fulfilling name of kinship for us, the most venerable brother Elpidius, came to speak and recounted each of the good things in you—being most capable, if anyone is, both to perceive a man's virtue and to present it in speech—he so kindled in us the desire for you that we pray you may one day come to our ancient hearth, so that we may enjoy the good things in you not only by hearing but also by experience. To Atarbius: And what end will there be of silence, if I, demanding the privileges of age, should wait for you to make the beginning of address to me, while your love wishes to persist even more in the harmful judgment of slander? But nevertheless, I, considering defeat in friendly matters to have the force of victory, confess to you that I yield the ambition of seeming to have prevailed in one's own judgment. And I myself have first come to writing, knowing that love endures all, bears all, nowhere seeks its own; therefore it never fails. For he who subordinates himself to his neighbor out of love is not humiliated. So that you also, at least henceforth, displaying the first and greatest fruit of the Spirit, love,

Cast off the sullen countenance of the angry which you reveal to us through your silence, and take up joy in your heart, peace toward the like-minded among the brethren, and zeal and care for the preservation of the Lord's Churches. For know that, unless we undertake a struggle for the Churches equal to that which the opponents of sound doctrine exert for their overthrow and complete annihilation, nothing prevents the truth from being swept away by the enemies and our also partaking of the judgment, if we do not, with all zeal and eagerness, in concord with one another and in God-inspired unity, show the due care for the union of the Churches. Therefore I exhort you: cast out from your soul the notion that you have no need of communion with anyone else. For it is not the mark of one who walks in love, nor of one who fulfills the law of Christ, to cut oneself off from fellowship with the brethren. For I also wish you to consider this, your good intention: that the evil of war, going around in a circle, may one day come to us as well, and even if we, along with others, partake of the injury, we will find no one to sympathize with us, because in the time of our prosperity we did not first lay down for the wronged the contribution of compassion.

To Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria. I consider no one so grieved by the present state of the Churches—or rather, to speak more truly, their confusion—as your reverence, when you compare the present with the ancient state and reflect how far these things have diverged from those, and that if matters continue to decline at the same rate toward the worse, nothing will prevent the Churches from being completely transformed into some other form within a short time. Often, when I have considered this by myself, I have thought that if the perversion of the Churches appears so pitiable to us, what kind of soul must that man have who has experienced the ancient stability and concord concerning the faith of the Churches of God? But just as the greater part of the grief surrounds your perfection, so we consider that the greater share of the care for the Churches also pertains to your wisdom. I myself have long known, according to the moderate understanding of affairs that resides in me, that I have recognized one path of assistance for the Churches in our region: the concord of the Western bishops. For if they were willing to show the same zeal that they have undertaken for one or two of those in the West caught in false doctrine, also for the diocese of our parts, then perhaps some benefit might come to the common cause, since those in power would be abashed by the trustworthiness of the multitude, and the peoples everywhere would follow them without contradiction. Who, then, is more capable of accomplishing this than your intelligence? Who is keener to discern what is necessary? Who is more practical in carrying out what is useful?

Who is more sympathetic to the affliction of the brethren? Who is more venerable to the entire West than your most reverend gray hairs? Leave some memorial to life worthy of your conduct, most honored Father. Adorn those countless struggles for piety with this one work. Send out some men from the holy Church under you, men powerful in sound teaching, to the bishops in the West; relate to them the calamities that have overtaken us; suggest a method of assistance; be a Samuel to the Churches; suffer together with the warring peoples; offer up peaceful prayers; ask grace from the Lord to leave some memorial of peace to the Churches. I know that letters are weak for advising on so great a matter. But you yourself do not need exhortation from others, any more than the most noble athletes need prompting from children, nor do we teach you as one ignorant, but we spur on the eagerness of one who is zealous. For the other parts of the East, perhaps you also need the cooperation of more people, and it is necessary to await those from the West. However, the good order of the Church in Antioch clearly depends on your piety, so that you may manage some, quiet others, and restore strength to the Church through concord. For that you ought, like the wisest of physicians, to begin your care from the most vital points, you yourself know more precisely than anyone. And what could be more vital to the Churches throughout the world than Antioch?

If it should happen that they return to concord, nothing would prevent them, as a strong head, from supplying health to the whole body. In truth, the infirmities of that city require your wisdom and evangelical sympathy; for it is not only divided by heretics, but also torn apart by those who claim to think alike. To unite these and bring them into one harmony of body belongs only to Him who, by His ineffable power, grants the return of sinews and flesh even to dry bones. Certainly the Lord works great things through those worthy of Him. Therefore, here again we hope that the ministry of such great matters befits your magnanimity, so as to calm the disturbance of the people, to put an end to partisan leadership, to subordinate all to one another in love, and to restore the ancient strength to the Church. To Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria. It seemed sufficient to me in my earlier letter to your reverence to indicate only this, that the entire part of the people of the holy Church of Antioch that is sound in faith must be led into one harmony and union, in order to show that it is necessary for the most God-beloved Bishop Meletius to unite what is now divided into many parts.

Since this same beloved fellow deacon of ours, Dorotheus, has sought a clearer recollection of these matters, we necessarily indicate that for the whole East it is a matter of prayer, and for us who are in every way united with him, it is desirable to see him governing the Church of the Lord, being irreproachable in faith and in life admitting no comparison with others, and, so to speak, presiding over the whole body of the Church, while the rest are like divisions of parts. Thus it is both necessary and beneficial from all sides that the others be joined to this man, as lesser rivers are joined to the great ones, and that some arrangement be made concerning the others, one befitting them, bringing peace to the people, and falling upon your wisdom and renowned sagacity and zeal. Certainly it has not escaped your unsurpassed prudence that already your like-minded ones in the West have agreed to these same things, as is shown by the letters brought to us through the blessed Silvanus. To Meletius, Bishop of Antioch. At first we intended to keep the most reverend brother Dorotheus, the fellow deacon, with us, so that at the conclusion of affairs we might send him and make known to your honor each of the things accomplished. But since, putting off from day to day, we have been prolonged for much time, and at the same time, as if in difficulties, some counsel has occurred to us concerning the matters at hand, we have sent

The aforementioned man is to reach your holiness and both report each matter himself and present our memorandum, so that, if what we have conceived should appear useful, it might be brought into effect through the zeal of your perfection. To speak concisely, the decision prevailed that this same brother of ours, Dorotheus, should cross over to Rome to stir up some of those from Italy to use the sea for our visitation, so that they might evade those who obstruct. For I have seen that those who are in power alongside the rulers neither wish nor are able to remind him about those who have been expelled, but consider it a gain that nothing worse occurs in the Churches. If, therefore, the plan should appear useful to your wisdom as well, you will deign both to compose letters and to dictate memoranda concerning what he must discuss and with whom. And so that the letters may have some credibility, he will certainly take along those of like mind, even if they are not present. Matters here are still uncertain, Euippius having arrived but as yet disclosing nothing. They threaten, however, some gathering of those of like mind with them from Armenia of the Tetrapolis and from Cilicia. To Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria. The opinion we have long held concerning your honor, time as it advances always confirms, and indeed even increases with the additions of particular events that occur.

While for most others it suffices that each one look to his own affairs, for you this is not enough, but your concern for all the Churches is as great as that for the one particularly entrusted to you by our common Lord, since you never cease discoursing, admonishing, writing, and from time to time sending forth those who suggest the best course. And now, from the sacred body of the clergy under you, we have received the most reverend brother Peter, sent forth, with great joy, and we have accepted the good purpose of his journey, which he displays, in accordance with the commands of your honor, bringing together what is opposed and uniting what is divided. Hence, wishing to contribute something ourselves to this zeal, we thought we would give the most suitable beginning to the matter if, as it were, we should run to the summit of all things, your perfection, and use you as both counselor and guide of our actions. Hence also we have sent brother Theodore, the deacon of the Church under the most honorable bishop Meletius, who is possessed of a good zeal for the correctness of the faith and himself desires to see the peace of the Churches, to your reverence, so that, following your suggestions (which you are able to make more secure by time, by experience of affairs, and by having the counsel of the Spirit beyond others), he might thus undertake what is being zealously pursued.

Whom you will of course receive and look upon with peaceful eyes, and having strengthened him with the aid of prayers and furnished him with letters, or rather also having yoked some of the zealous ones from there, you will lead him to the matters at hand. It seemed fitting to us to write to the bishop of Rome to examine the situation here and give his opinion, so that, since it is difficult for some to be sent from there by a common and synodical decree, he might take authority over the matter, selecting men capable of enduring the hardships of travel, capable by gentleness and firmness of character to admonish the perverse among us, and having used speech appropriately and economically, and having with them all the acts done after Ariminum, for the dissolution of what was done there under compulsion, and, with no one knowing this, to arrive noiselessly by sea among those here, in order to anticipate the awareness of the enemies of peace. That is also demanded by some from here, necessarily, as it also appears to us, that they banish the heresy of Marcellus as harsh and harmful and alien to the sound faith. For, up to now, in all the letters they send, while they do not cease to anathematize the infamous Arius up and down and to expel him from the Churches, they have brought no censure against Marcellus, who showed impiety diametrically opposite to him and impiously sinned against the very existence of the divinity of the Only-begotten and wrongly interpreted the appellation of the Word.

He grants that the Logos is said to be the Only-Begotten, having come forth according to need and on occasion, and then having returned to that from which he came, neither existing before the departure nor subsisting after the return. And proofs of this exist in the books of that unjust composition deposited with us. Yet they nowhere appeared to denounce him, even though they had as a cause that from the beginning, through ignorance of the truth, they received him into ecclesiastical communion. The present circumstances require that he be mentioned appropriately, so that those who wish for a pretext may not have one, from the fact that your holiness joins the healthy and those who falter toward the true faith, making them manifest to all; so that henceforth we may know the like-minded and not, as in a night battle, have no distinction between friends and enemies. We only ask that the aforementioned deacon be sent immediately on the first voyage, so that at least in the following year something of what we pray for may come to pass. And that, even before our words, you yourself will understand and take care, obviously, that when they arrive, if God wills, they not let the schisms be cast into the Churches, but rather drive together by every means those who think the same into unity, even if they find some having private grounds of differences with each other, so that the orthodox people may not be cut into many parts by being separated along with their leaders. For everything must be considered secondary to peace, and above all the Church of Antioch must be cared for, so that the orthodox faction in it may not be weakened by being divided over persons.

But of all these things you yourself will take care later, when, as we pray, with God's cooperation, you have taken upon yourself all those who entrust to you the settlement of the churches. The Untitled Discourse on the Synod: It is necessary and beneficial for us, and I know it will also appear pleasant to your Christ-loving disposition, to renew the laws of ancient love and the peace of the Fathers, that heavenly gift of Christ and salvation, which has withered with time, and to bring it back to its prime. For what could be more delightful than to see those separated by such a multitude of places bound together through the union of love into one harmony of members in the body of Christ? Almost the entire East, most honored Father (I call East the region from Illyricum to Egypt), is shaken by a great storm and tempest, as the heresy once sown by the enemy of truth, Arius, has now reappeared shamelessly and, like a bitter root, has produced a destructive fruit, prevailing henceforth because those in each parish who preside over the right teaching have, through slander and oppression, fallen from the churches, and the power of affairs has been handed over to those who take captive the souls of the simpler ones. We expected one solution to these things: the visitation of your compassion, and we have always been encouraged by the

The paradox of your love in the past time, and by a brighter report we were briefly strengthened in our souls, as though some visitation from you was to be ours. But when we were disappointed in our hope, no longer able to bear it, we came to the entreaty through our letter that you should rouse yourselves to our assistance and send some of those of like mind, either those who reconcile the divided, or those who bring the Churches of God back to friendship, or at least those who make the causes of the disturbance more evident to you, so that it may be clear to you henceforth with whom it is proper to have communion. In any case, we seek nothing new, but what is customary for the rest of the blessed and God-loving men of old, and especially for you. For we know, by the succession of memory, having been asked by our fathers and taught by letters still preserved among us, that Dionysius, that most blessed bishop, who excelled among you in correctness of faith and in the rest of virtue, visited our Church of the Caesareans through letters and exhorted our fathers through letters to send those who would ransom the brotherhood from captivity. But now our circumstances are more difficult and more gloomy and in need of greater care. For we lament not the destruction of earthly buildings, but the capture of Churches; nor do we see bodily slavery, but the captivity of souls being effected every day by those who champion the heresy.

Therefore, unless you now rise up to take action, a little later you will find no one to whom you can extend your hand, since all will have come under the domination of the heresy. To Gregory of Nazianzus. I received the letter of your reverence through the most venerable brother Hellenius, and having heard from him, who related to us plainly all that you intimated to us, you surely do not doubt how we were affected. Nevertheless, since we have judged the love for you to be superior to any grief, we received even these things as was fitting, and we pray to the holy God that the remaining days or hours may be preserved in our disposition toward you as in the past time, in which we were conscious of having left nothing undone, whether small or great, for ourselves. But if a certain person, now ambitious to peep into the life of Christians, and then thinking that associating with us brings him some dignity, fabricates what he has not heard and interprets what he has not understood, that is nothing wonderful. But this is wonderful and paradoxical: that he has as hearers of these things the most genuine of the brothers among you, and not only hearers but also disciples, as it seems. For even if it were otherwise paradoxical that such a one is the teacher, and such are those who tolerate him, and I the one who is disparaged, yet the perversity of the times has taught us to be vexed at nothing. For long ago, things more dishonorable than these have become customary to us because of our sins. Therefore, if I have not yet given to the brothers themselves proof of my own purpose concerning God, I have nothing to answer even now.

For those whom long time has not persuaded, how will a brief letter convince? But if those things are sufficient, let the slanders of the accusers be considered nonsense. Yet indeed, if we permit unbridled mouths and undisciplined hearts to speak about whatever they wish and have our ears ready for reception, we will not only receive the opinions of others, but others will also receive ours. And the cause of this is that which I long ago begged not to happen, and now, having forbidden it, I am silent—namely, that we do not meet with one another. For if, according to the ancient agreements and according to the care now owed by us to the Churches, we spent most of the year together, we would not have given passage to the slanderers. But you, if you please, let these matters be, and yourself be persuaded to labor with us in the struggle before us and to meet with us against the one who is marshaled against us. For either your mere appearance will check his attack, or you will break up those being assembled to overthrow the affairs of the fatherland, by making known to them that you, by the grace of God, are the leader of our assembly, and you will block every unjust mouth of those speaking lawlessness against God. And if these things happen, the events themselves will show who follows you in good things, and who shifts and betrays the word of truth through cowardice. But if the affairs of the Church are being betrayed, I have little concern to persuade by words those who value themselves as highly as men who have not yet learned to measure themselves.

For not long after, by the grace of God, the proof through deeds will refute the slanders, because we expect that for the sake of the word of truth we will perhaps suffer something even greater; but if not, we will certainly be driven out of the churches and our homelands. And if none of the hoped-for things come to pass, the judgment seat of Christ is not far off. So, if you seek the meeting for the sake of the churches, I am ready to run together wherever you summon; but if it is to dissolve the slanders, I have no leisure now to answer concerning these things. To Hesychius. I know both your love for us and your zeal for good things; therefore, needing to prevail upon the most beloved son Callisthenes, I thought that if I took you as a partner in the concern, I would more easily accomplish what is being pursued. The man has been grieved against the most learned Eustochius, and he has been grieved with a just grief. He accuses his servants of insolence toward him and of recklessness. We ask that this man be entreated, content with the fear with which he frightened both those who acted insolently and their masters, to end the quarrel by granting the favor. For in this way both things exist: both what is honorable among men and what is approved before God, if he is willing to blend forbearance with fear. Therefore, if you have any preexisting friendship and familiarity with the man, ask this favor from him, and, those whom you know in the city to be able to prevail upon him, take as partners in the concern, telling them that what is done will be especially gratifying to me. And send back the fellow deacon, having accomplished that for which he was sent.

I am ashamed, for when people take refuge with me, I am unable to be of any use to them. To Callisthenes. I gave thanks to God when I encountered the letter of your nobility, first because a greeting came to me from a man who chooses to honor us (for we consider the company of excellent men to be of great worth), and secondly for the joy of obtaining a good remembrance. Letters are a token of remembrance, and when I received them and understood the meaning in them, I marveled how, truly, in accordance with everyone's opinion, you have accorded us a fatherly respect. For to have relaxed the greater part of the vehemence of one who was inflamed and angered and rushing to avenge those who had grieved him, and to have made us masters of the matter, gave us joy as over a spiritual child. Therefore, what else remains for these things but to pray for good things for you? That you be most pleasant to friends, fearsome to enemies, and equally respected by all, so that even those who have omitted some of their duties, having perceived the gentleness in you, may reproach themselves for having sinned against such a one as you are. Since you have ordered the servants to be driven to the place where they displayed their disorder, I ask to learn the purpose for which your kindness seeks this. For if you yourself will be present and will exact the penalty for the audacities, the boys will be present. For what else must happen, if this is your judgment? But we do not know what further favor we will have received, if we do not suffice to deliver the boys from punishment.

But if your business on the highway detains you, who will receive people there? And who will defend them in your stead? But if it seems good to you for them to come into your presence, and this has been decided absolutely, order their appearance to take place as far as Sasima, and there show the gentleness and magnanimity of your character. For having taken those who provoked you into your hands, and having demonstrated in this the inviolability of your dignity, let them go unharmed, as we urged in our earlier letters, granting us the favor, and expecting from God the recompense for what you do. And I say this not as if the matter ought to be concluded in this way, but yielding to your impulse, and fearing lest some indigestible part of your anger remain, and just as with inflamed eyes even the gentlest remedies seem painful, so now my speech may exasperate you rather than calm you. Since the most proper course, which could bring you the greatest honor and suffice for me to boast among my own friends and contemporaries, would be for the vengeance to be entrusted to us. In any case, even if you have sworn to deliver them to punishment according to the laws, neither is the penalty imposed by us less for vengeance, nor is the divine law less honorable than the civil laws in force in life. But it was possible for them, having turned here to our laws, in which you yourself place your hope of salvation, both to free you from the necessity of the oath, and for them to fulfill a penalty commensurate with their offenses.

But again I am making the letter long. For, from my great eagerness to be persuasive to you, I cannot bear to pass over in silence anything that comes to mind, fearing that my request may be in vain if I have made my instruction incomplete. But, O most honorable and genuine nursling of the Church, confirm for me both the hopes I now have in you and the unanimous testimonies of all concerning your diligence and gentleness, and write to the soldier to depart from us quickly, who now has left nothing of annoyance or insolence undone, preferring rather not to grieve you than to have all of us as his own and friends. To Martinianus. What do you think I would value at how much the coming together of us with each other at the same place and associating with you at greater length, so as to enjoy all the good things in you? For, if it is a great thing for the testimony of education to see the cities and know the mind of many men, I think your company grants this through little effort. For what difference does it make to see many individually or one who has undertaken the experience of all together? Rather, I would say the difference is very great, in that it provides a knowledge of good things without toil and gathers a pure history of virtue, free from admixture with the worse. For whether it is excellent action, or speech worthy of memory, or the ways of life of men surpassing others, all these are in the treasury of your soul

It is stored up. So that not only for a year, as Alcinous did for Odysseus, but for my whole life I would pray to hear you, and that this would be long for me for that reason, even though I am ill-disposed toward it. Why then do I now write, when I ought to be present? Because my weary homeland is pressing me to return to her. For what she has suffered you do not ignore, O best of men: that in the manner of Pentheus, some Maenads, truly demons, have torn her apart. For they divide her and subdivide her, like bad physicians who make wounds more grievous by their own inexperience. Since, then, she is exhausted from being cut up, it remains to treat her as an invalid. The citizens have therefore written, urging us, and I must go, not as though I will be of any benefit to the situation, but to avoid the blame from my absence. For you know how those who are at a loss are quick to hope, and also quick, I suppose, to blame, always turning the causes toward what has been neglected. Yet for this very reason I was asking you to come with me and give counsel, or rather to be urged to think of something vigorous and befitting your own character, and not to overlook our homeland fallen to its knees, but to go to the Camp and speak with your frankness, that they should not think they have acquired two provinces instead of one; for they did not bring the other from some other inhabited world, but have done something similar to what someone would do if, having acquired a horse or an ox, then cutting it in two, thought he had two instead of one; for he neither made two, and he destroyed the one.

Tell those in power not to increase the kingdom in this way; for power lies not in numbers, but in deeds. For as it is, we think that some, perhaps from ignorance of the truth, others from unwillingness to give offense by their words, and still others from indifference, overlook what is happening. If it were possible for him to come to the Emperor, that would be best for the situation and fitting for your whole way of life. But if it is burdensome, both because of the season and because of his age, as you yourself said, having sluggishness as a companion within him, still, to write a letter is no trouble. So, by granting the help of letters to your fatherland, you will first be conscious that you have left nothing undone that was in your power, and then you will give sufficient comfort to those who are suffering, by the very appearance of sharing their pain. But would that it were possible for him to stand over the affairs and see the gloomy situation with his own eyes. For then, perhaps, moved by the very clarity of what is seen, you would utter some cry befitting both your magnanimity and the city's dejection. But do not disbelieve us when we tell you that we truly needed a Simonides or some such lyric poet, who knew how to lament clearly over sufferings. And yet, why do I say Simonides, when I should name Aeschylus, or if there is someone else like him, who, by vividly depicting the magnitude of a calamity, lamented in a loud voice? Those gatherings and speeches, the chance meetings in the marketplace of learned men, and all that formerly made our city famous—these have left us.

So that now one would less likely appear in the marketplace for education and learning than those formerly condemned to dishonor or with unclean hands in Athens. And in their place has been introduced the lack of culture of certain Scythians or Massagetae. There is a single voice of those demanding, those being demanded of, and those being flogged with whips. The porticoes on either side echo gloomily, as if uttering their own voice, groaning in sympathy with what is happening. The gymnasia are closed, and the unlit nights do not allow us to reflect, because of the struggle for life. For the danger is not ordinary: with the rulers removed, as if the supports fall, everything is carried down together. And what speech could reach the height of our evils? Some have gone fleeing, a part of our council, not the worst, preferring perpetual exile to Podandus. And when I say Podandus, think of the Laconian Ceadas, or if you have seen anywhere in the inhabited world a natural chasm, which some spontaneously call Charonian, breathing forth pestilential air. Consider the evil of Podandus to be like something of that sort. So of three portions: some flee, uprooted with their wives and hearths; others are led away like captives, most of the best in the city, a pitiful sight for friends, fulfilling a prayer for enemies, if indeed anyone ever cursed us so thoroughly. A third portion remains. These, unable to bear the loss of their accustomed life and at the same time proven too weak for the need, have despaired of life itself.

We urge you to make these things clear to everyone with your own voice and your own just frankness, which you have from your life, having plainly stated beforehand that, if they do not quickly change their minds, they will have no one on whom to show their philanthropy. For either you have become some benefit to the community, or you will have done what Solon did, who, being unable to defend them in their freedom when the acropolis was already occupied, put on his armor and sat before the doors, clearly indicating by his posture that he did not consent to what was happening. And I know this precisely, that even if someone now does not accept your opinion, a little later he will add the greatest renown for both goodwill and wisdom, when he sees events turning out according to your prediction. Of the many things that have made your character superior to others, nothing is so peculiarly yours as your zeal for your fatherland, as you justly repay her the rewards, from which you set out and became so great that your renown is known throughout the whole world. This fatherland, then, which bore and nurtured you, has fallen into the disbelief of old tales, and no one, not even among those very familiar with it, standing in our city, would recognize it. So utterly has it been transformed into complete desolation, many of its citizens having been taken from it earlier, and now nearly all having moved to Podandus.

Those who have been cut off, being left behind, have themselves fallen into complete despair, and they have instilled such despondency in everyone that the city now lacks even inhabitants and has become a terrible desolation, a pitiful sight to friends, but bringing great joy and cheer to those who have long been lying in wait for our downfall. Whose hand, then, is to reach out to us, or whose compassionate tear is to be shed for us? Is it not that of your gentleness, who would show sympathy even to a foreign city suffering such things, let alone to the one that brought you into the world? If, then, you have any power, display it now in our present need. You certainly have great influence from God, who has never abandoned you in any crisis and has given you many proofs of his own goodwill; only if you are willing to rouse yourself entirely to care for us and to use the power you now possess for the aid of your fellow citizens. To Sophronius, Master. The magnitude of the calamities that have befallen our homeland compelled me myself, upon arriving at the Camp, to describe to your magnanimity the gloom that grips our city, and to the rest of you who hold the greatest power over affairs. But since both my bodily illness and the care of the Churches detain me, for now I lament to your

I hastened to your magnanimity, knowing that neither a ship in the open sea, overwhelmed by violent winds, has ever been so suddenly destroyed, nor a city razed by earthquakes, nor one overwhelmed by waters, has ever gone to complete ruin as our own, swallowed up by this new order of affairs, has come to sudden annihilation. And our affairs have become a myth. For the polity is gone, and the entire civic constitution, abandoning residence in the city due to the despondency regarding the rulers, wanders through the countryside. Moreover, the distribution of necessities has also failed, and the city, which formerly prided itself on learned men and the other things with which cities flourish, has become a completely untimely spectacle, living in want. We considered one thing, as in dire straits, to be a consolation: to lament our sufferings to your gentleness and to beseech, if there is any power, to extend a hand to our city, which has sunk to its knees. As for the manner by which you might be timely in these matters, I myself cannot suggest it. But for you, on account of your wisdom, it is easy both to find and, on account of the power given you by God, to use what is found, is not difficult. AN EPISTLE WITHOUT TITLE CONCERNING THERASIUS This also we enjoyed from the good beginning of the great Therasius, that the visitation of your learning occurred to us continuously. But we were deprived of this same thing when we were bereft of the ruler.

But since the gifts once granted to us by God remain secure and dwell in each other's souls through memory, even if we are separated in body, let us at least write continuously and speak to one another of necessary matters, especially now, when winter has brought about this brief respite. And we hope that you will not fail the most admirable man Therasius, having judged it fitting to share in such concerns with the man—or rather, not gladly seizing a pretext that provides you with an opportunity to see your friends and be seen by them. Having much to say about many things, I have deferred it to our meeting, deeming it unsafe to entrust such matters to letters. AN EPISTLE CONCERNING HELPIDIUS Your good zeal on behalf of our most reverend companion Helpidius has not escaped us, how with your customary prudence you gave the governor an opportunity for benevolence. Therefore we now ask you to complete this favor through your letter, and to remind the governor by his own decree to station the man in our homeland, since he has been entrusted with nearly all the care of public affairs. Thus you will have many plausible pretexts to present to the governor, from which he will necessarily order him to remain in our homeland. As for the conditions here and how worthy the man is in his actions, you surely need no instruction from us, knowing it precisely by your own prudence.

To Eustathius, Bishop of Sebasteia. Even before receiving your letter, I knew the toil you have for every soul, and especially for our lowliness, because you have been set forth in this struggle; and having received the letter from the most reverend Eleusinius and having beheld his very presence, I glorified God, who has granted us such a champion and fellow defender, through spiritual assistance, in the struggles for piety. Let your unsurpassable piety know that up to now some attacks have been made against us by the great rulers, and these severe ones, both the prefect and the chamberlain having spoken with personal passion and on behalf of the adversaries; but for the present we have steadfastly endured every attack by the mercy of God, who grants us the cooperation of the Spirit and through it strengthens our weakness. To Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria. The more the ailments of the Churches advance to the worse, the more we all turn to your perfection, having believed that one consolation from the evils remains for us, your protection, which, both by the power of your prayers and by knowing how to suggest the best for affairs, is trusted by all alike who know your perfection even a little by hearing or experience to preserve us from this terrible storm. Therefore do not cease both praying for our souls and rousing us with your letters; if you knew how great is the benefit of these, you would never have passed over any occasion for letters to us that came your way.

letter, I was eager to see you and to enjoy the good things in you, and to add to the history of our life the meeting with your truly great and apostolic soul, we would certainly have considered ourselves to have received from the philanthropy of God a consolation counterbalancing the afflictions we have suffered throughout our whole life. To Innocentius, Bishop. As much as I rejoiced upon receiving the letter of your love, so much was I grieved that you have laid upon us a burden of care that exceeds us. For how could we, from such a distance, manage such a great administration? As long as the Church has you, it rests upon its own supports. But if the Lord should ordain something concerning your life, whom can I send from here as your equals for the care of his brothers? What you have sought through your letter, you do well and prudently, wishing while still alive to see the one who will after you steer the chosen flock of the Lord—which the blessed Moses both desired and saw. Since, therefore, the place is great and renowned, and your work is famous among many, and the times are difficult, needing a great helmsman because of the continuous storms and the waves rising against the Church, I did not consider it safe for my soul to act perfunctorily in the matter, especially remembering what you wrote, that you will stand before the Lord to judge me concerning the neglect of the Churches.

So that I may not enter into a judgment with you, but rather have you as a partner in my defense before Christ, having looked around in the council in the city, I selected the most precious vessel, the descendant of the blessed Hermogenes, who wrote the great and unbreakable faith in the great synod, a presbyter of the Church for many years already, stable in character, experienced in canons, precise in faith, living up to now in continence and asceticism, even though the vigor of his hard discipline has consumed his flesh, poor and having no means of livelihood in this world, so that he does not even have a sufficiency of bread, but earns his living by the work of his hands together with the brothers who live with him. It is my wish to send this man. If therefore you also have need of such a man, and not rather of some younger person suitable for being sent and for accomplishing worldly needs, deign to write to me quickly by the first opportunity, so that I may send you this man, who is chosen of God and suitable for the task, reverend to those who meet him and instructing those who oppose him with gentleness. I could have sent him immediately, but since you previously requested a man who is otherwise good and beloved by us, but far inferior to the aforementioned man, I wished to make my own opinion clear to you, so that, if you need such a man, you may either send one of the brothers to accompany him concerning the fasts, or write to us, if you have no one able to undertake the labor of the journey to us.

To Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria. When we look at the circumstances and observe the difficulties by which every good action is held back as if by some bond, we fall into complete despair of ourselves; but when we look again at your dignity and consider that our Lord has reserved you as a physician of the maladies in the Churches, we recover our thoughts and rise from the fall of despair to the hope of better things. Every Church is dissolved, as even your wisdom is not unaware. And you surely see the things everywhere, as from some high watchtower of the mind's contemplation, how, as in a sea where many sail together, under the force of the surge all are dashed against each other and the shipwreck occurs, partly from the external cause violently stirring the sea, partly from the turmoil of the sailors opposing each other and pushing one another... It is enough to leave the discourse at the image, since neither does your wisdom require anything more nor does the situation permit us frankness. And for these things, what pilot is sufficient? Who is trustworthy to rouse the Lord to rebuke the wind and the sea? Who else but the one who from childhood has struggled in contests for piety? Since now everything sound around us in faith is genuinely moved toward communion and union with those of like belief, we have come confidently to your call of forbearance to write to us all a single letter containing an exhortation of what is to be done.

at you, we are encouraged by the thought of your zeal. For thus they wish the beginning of the common discussions to come from you. But since perhaps they appear to you suspicious because of the memory of the past, do this, most God-beloved Father: send me the letters to the bishops, either through one of the faithful there or also through our fellow deacon Dorotheus, which I, upon receiving them, will not deliver until I have received their responses; but if not, "I shall have sinned against you for all the days of my life." Certainly this is no more worthy of fear for the one who originally said it to his father than for me now saying it to you, my spiritual father. But if this is absolutely forbidden by you, at least release us from the charge of the ministry, since we have come to this embassy and mediation sincerely and without artifice, out of a desire for peace and for our mutual union with those who are of one mind in matters concerning the Lord. To Censitor. For me, acquaintance with your nobility and face-to-face meeting have been very brief, but knowledge from hearsay, through which we are connected with many eminent persons, is neither slight nor contemptible. And if you also have some report about us from rumor, you yourself would know better. At any rate, your reputation among us is such as we have said.

Since God has called you to a work that displays philanthropy, through which it is possible for our fatherland, utterly razed to the ground, to be restored, I consider it fitting to remind your goodness, so that in hope of recompense from God you may deign to present yourself in such a way as to be deemed worthy of immortal memory and to become an heir of eternal rest by making the afflictions lighter for those who are oppressed. And since I also have some property near Chamanene, I ask you to oversee it as your own. Do not be surprised if I call the possessions of friends my own, for I have been educated in friendship along with other virtues and remember the one who wisely said, "A friend is another self." Therefore, the property belonging to this man, I entrust to your honor as my own, and I beg you, after examining the difficulties of the household, to give them consolation for past times and to make their dwelling choice for the future, which is now shunned and avoided because of the heavy burden of the tax imposed upon it. I myself will also endeavor, when I meet with your decorum, to discuss each matter more fully.

To the Governor. What I am about to write is almost unbelievable, but it will be written for the sake of truth: although I had every desire to converse with your excellence as frequently as possible, when I found this opportunity for writing, I did not seize the windfall, but hesitated and drew back. The paradox lies in this: that what I had prayed would come to pass, when it did come to pass, I did not accept. The reason is that I am ashamed to appear to write not purely for friendship's sake, but each time to serve some need. But this thought occurred to me (and I want you to consider it, so that you do not think we conduct our conversations more commercially than amicably): that the addresses of rulers ought to have some difference from those of private persons. For we should not approach a physician and an ordinary man in the same way, nor, clearly, a ruler and a private citizen, but we must try to enjoy from the one his art, from the other his authority, for our own purposes. Just as for those walking in the sun the shadow inevitably follows, even if they do not choose it, so too with conversations with rulers there follows some incidental benefit, the help of those who are suffering. Let the first cause of the letter be fulfilled by the very act of addressing your magnanimity; even if no pretext for writing were present, this itself should be considered a good capital. So be greeted by us, O best of men, and be preserved for the whole of life, exchanging offices for offices and at different times benefiting different people by your superintendence. For this is customary for me to do, and it is owed to you by those who have even slightly experienced your virtue in ruling.

After the prayer, receive also this supplication on behalf of the wretched old man, whom the imperial letter released from public duties—or rather, even before the Emperor, old age itself granted him the necessary exemption. And you yourself confirmed this grace from above, out of respect for his nature and, as it seems to me, out of concern for public affairs, lest something of common interest be endangered by a man whose mind is failing with time. But by another path, how again did you deceive him, O admirable one, leading him back into the midst? For by ordering his grandson, who has not yet completed his fourth year from birth, to share in the council, what else are you doing but bringing the old man back into public life through his descendant, as if from the beginning? But now we beseech you to take pity on both ages and to release both, on account of the pitiable circumstances that belong to each. For the one has neither seen his parents nor known them, but entered this life through the hands of others, orphaned of both from the swaddling clothes. And the other has been so preserved for life that no form of misfortune has passed him by. For he has seen the untimely death of his son, he has seen a house bereft of successors, and now he will see—unless you yourself devise something worthy of your own philanthropy—this consolation for his childlessness become the source of countless evils for him. For surely the child will not contribute to the councilors, nor assess the taxes, nor supply the soldiers with their rations, but again the gray hair of the wretched old man must be disgraced.

Grant then a grace that is both consistent with the laws and in accord with nature: that the one be permitted to be left alone until the age of manhood, and the other to await death on his bed. Let others put forward the continuity of affairs and the inexorability of necessity. For it is not characteristic of your character either to overlook those who are badly treated, or to disregard the laws, or to yield not to friends who supplicate you, even if human affairs had surrounded you. CONCERNING THE OATH THAT OUGHT NOT TO BE TAKEN. We do not cease, at every assembly, to protest, and privately in our encounters to discuss the same matters, so that oaths on public payments not be imposed by the collectors upon the rustics. It remained, even through this letter, to protest before God and men concerning the same things: that it is fitting for us to cease bringing death to the souls of men, and to devise some other methods of collection, but to allow men to keep their souls unwounded. We write these things to you, not as though you needed the exhortation from words (for you have from within yourself the motives for fearing the Lord), but so that through you all who are under your authority may be taught not to provoke the Holy One, nor to reduce a forbidden thing by evil custom to indifference. For there is no benefit to them from the oaths for the collections, and they add a confessed evil to the soul. For when men become accustomed to perjuries, they no longer urge themselves toward payment, but think that the oath has been devised for them as a weapon of deceit and an occasion for delay.

Whether, then, the Lord brings swift retribution upon the perjurers, they will have no obedient subjects, the guilty having been consumed by the punishment; or whether the Master, through forbearance, endures them—as I said earlier—those who have experienced the Lord's forbearance despise His goodness; let them not vainly commit lawlessness nor provoke God against themselves. We have said what befits us; the disobedient will see. To the Governor: I know that it is the greatest and foremost concern of your Honor to gratify justice in every way, and the second to benefit friends and to care for those who flee to the protection of your magnanimity. All these things, then, have come together in the present case. For the matter on behalf of which we are making this intercession is both just, and gratifying to us, whom you have deigned to count among your friends, and owed to those who invoke your steadfastness for aid in their sufferings. For the grain, which alone they had for

The necessary means of life, which the most beloved brother Dorotheus possessed, some men in Berisoi, who are entrusted with the administration of public affairs, have plundered, whether they came to violence on their own initiative or at the instigation of others. Yet in no way is the deed blameless for them. For how does one who is wicked from his own home do less wrong than one who serves the wickedness of others? And the loss to the sufferers is the same. We ask that he receive back what was taken from him, and that they not be permitted to shift the blame for their audacity onto others. And as valuable as it is to escape the necessity arising from the scarcity of grain, so highly shall we value the favor from your magnanimity, if you should deign to grant it. AN UNTITLED LETTER ON THE SAME MATTERS I marveled how, with you mediating, such great evil was dared against the fellow presbyter that the only means of livelihood he had was plundered. And the most terrible thing is that those who dared this shift the blame for what they have done onto you, whom it befits not only not to permit such things to happen, but to prevent them with all your might, especially against all, but at least against presbyters, and among them those who are of one mind with us and travel the same path of piety. If, then, you care at all to give us rest, quickly cause what has happened to be set right. For you can, with God's help, accomplish both this and even greater things than these, with whomever you wish. I have also written to the governor of the region, so that, if they are not willing of their own accord to do what is just, they may be compelled to do so by the action of the courts.

Untitled, on the demand for money. Your honor has understood better than anyone the difficulty of collecting the commercial gold, and we have no witness of our poverty like you, who from great benevolence have both sympathized with us and accommodated us up to the present in what was possible, never disturbing the gentleness of your own character's disposition from the disturbance of those pressing from above. Since, therefore, there remains for us from the entire weight a little more gold, and this must be collected from the collection to which we have urged the whole city, we ask your gentleness to extend the deadline for us a little, so that those outside the city may also be reminded. For the majority of those in office are in the countryside, as you yourself are not unaware. If, then, it is possible for so many pounds to be sent, for that much remains to us, we ask you to do this, and that will be sent later; but if there is absolute necessity for it to be transmitted all at once to the treasuries, as we originally requested, that the deadline be made broader for us. To Meletius, bishop. The good God, providing us with occasions for addresses to your honor, alleviates the intensity of our longing. For he himself is witness of the desire we have to see your face and to enjoy your good and soul-beneficial teaching. And now, through the most reverent and most zealous brother Dorotheus, the fellow deacon who is coming, we ask you first of all to pray for us, that we may not be a stumbling block to the people nor

impediment to your prayers for propitiating the Lord. Moreover, we remind you to deign to arrange everything through the aforementioned brother, and, if anything must be communicated to those in the West, because it is necessary that letters be necessarily carried to them also through our agency, to dictate the letters yourself. For we, having encountered Sabinus, the deacon sent by them, have written both to the Illyrians and to the bishops in Italy and Gaul, and to some of those who have written to us personally. It is reasonable that someone be sent from the common synod to carry a second set of letters, which you yourself order to be composed. And concerning the most venerable bishop Athanasius, knowing your complete prudence accurately, we remind you that it is impossible for anything to be delivered or done through my letters, unless he receives some means from you, who at that time deferred his communion. For he himself is said to be very eager to be united with us and to contribute according to his ability, but he is distressed that he was then dismissed without communion and that the promises still remain unfulfilled. How matters stand in the East has certainly not escaped the ears of your piety, and the aforementioned brother will relate everything more precisely in person. Deign to send him out immediately after Easter, because we await the responses from Samosata; accept his zeal and, having strengthened him with prayers, send him forth to the tasks at hand.

To the Most Holy Brothers and Bishops in the West. The good God, who always joins consolations to afflictions, has now also granted us, amid the multitude of our pains, to find some moderate consolation from the letters which our most honorable father the bishop received from your Rightness and transmitted to us, containing testimony of sound faith and proof of unassailed concord and harmony, so that they show forth shepherds who follow in the footsteps of the Fathers and tend the Lord’s flock with knowledge. All this gladdened us so much as to dissolve our dejection and produce a slight smile in our souls from this gloomy state of affairs in which we now find ourselves. And the Lord increased our consolation through the most reverend son and fellow deacon Sabinus, who, having accurately related the good things among you, nourished our souls, and having learned our circumstances clearly by experience, will report them to you, so that you may first of all strive together with us through earnest and diligent supplication to the Lord, and then also not refuse to bring whatever comfort is possible to the oppressed Churches. For here, most honorable brothers, the Church has grown weary and despaired in the face of the continuous assaults of the adversaries, like a ship in the midst of the sea tormented by the successive blows of the waves, unless some swift oversight from the Lord’s goodness should occur.

Just as we consider your mutual harmony and unity to be our own good, so we also urge you to sympathize with our divisions and not, because we are separated by the arrangement of places, to separate us from yourselves, but, because we are united by communion in the Spirit, to take us up into the harmony of one body. The things that oppress us are well known, even if we do not speak of them; for they have been poured out over the whole inhabited world. The doctrines of the Fathers have been despised, apostolic traditions have been held in contempt, the inventions of younger men are being introduced into the Churches; men now practice word-craft, not theology; the wisdom of the world takes the first place, having thrust aside the boast of the cross. Shepherds are driven out, and in their place are introduced grievous wolves, who tear apart the flock of Christ. Houses of prayer are empty of those who assemble for worship, while the deserts are full of those who lament. The elders grieve, comparing the old days with the present; the young are more pitiable, not knowing of what they have been deprived. These things are sufficient to move to sympathy those who have been taught the love of Christ, but when compared with the truth of the facts, the account falls far short of their worth. If there is any consolation of love, any communion of the Spirit, any compassion and pity, be moved to our assistance. Take up a zeal for piety, and deliver us from this storm.

Let that good proclamation of the Fathers be spoken among you with boldness, which destroys the ill-named heresy of Arius and builds up the Churches in sound teaching, in which the Son is confessed as consubstantial with the Father and the Holy Spirit is equally honored, both numbered and worshipped together, so that the boldness which the Lord has given you for the truth and the boast in the confession of the divine and salvific Trinity may be granted also to us through your prayers and your cooperation. The details the aforementioned fellow deacon will announce to your love. And we have agreed to all things done canonically by your honor, having accepted your apostolic zeal for orthodoxy. To Valerian, Bishop of the Illyrians. Grace to the Lord, who has given us to see the fruit of ancient love in your purity, who, though so far separated in body, have joined yourself to us by letter and, embracing us with your spiritual and holy longing, have instilled an indescribable affection in our souls. For we have learned by experience the force of the proverb, that "As cold water to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a distant land." For there is a terrible famine of love among us, most honored brother. And the cause is evident, that because lawlessness has multiplied, the love of many has grown cold.

For this reason your letter seemed to us of great value, and we reply to you through the same man, our most reverend fellow deacon Sabinus, through whom we also make ourselves known to you and urge you to be vigilant in your prayers on our behalf, that at some point the holy God may grant calm and tranquility to the affairs here and check this wind and sea, so that we may cease from the tossing and upheaval in which we now stand, ever expecting to be utterly overwhelmed. But this the Lord has granted us greatly in the present circumstances: that you are heard to be in precise harmony and unity with one another and that the proclamation of piety is announced among you without hindrance. For whenever (if indeed the time of this world is not yet closed, but days of human life still remain) it is necessary that faith be renewed for the East by you, and that you provide in due time the recompense for the good things you received from it. For the healthy part here, which champions the piety of the Fathers, has labored sufficiently, the devil having shaken it down by many and varied assaults of contrivances in his own cunning. But by your prayers, of those who love the Lord, may the evil and people-deceiving heresy of Arius’s false belief be extinguished, and may the good teaching of our Fathers who assembled at Nicaea shine forth, so that the doxology to the blessed Trinity may be fulfilled in harmony with the saving baptism.

To the most God-beloved and most holy brother co-ministers, the like-minded bishops throughout Italy and Gaul: Meletius, Eusebius, Basil, Bassus, Gregory, Pelagius, Paul, Anthimus, Theodotus, Vitus, Abrahamius, Iobinus, Zeno, Theodoretus, Marcianus, Barachus, Abrahamius, Libanius, Thalassius, Joseph, Boethus, Atreius, Theodotus, Eustathius, Barsumas, John, Chosroes, Isaces, Narses, Maris, Gregory, Daphnus, greeting in the Lord. A certain consolation is brought to pained souls even by a groan often sent up from the depth of the heart, and at times a tear that has fallen has dispersed much of the distress. But for us, not as much consolation as groan and tear have does the telling of our sufferings to your love possess; rather, a more favorable hope also warms us, that perhaps, if we were to declare to you the things that grieve us, we might rouse you to our assistance, which we long ago expected would come from you to the Churches throughout the East, but have not yet obtained, the God who administers our affairs in wisdom having surely arranged, according to his invisible judgments of justice, that we be prolonged for a longer time in these trials. For surely you have not been ignorant of our circumstances, most honored brothers, whose report has run even to the ends of the world, nor are you without sympathy towards like-minded brothers, being disciples of the Apostle who teaches that love for one's neighbor is the fulfillment of the law.

But, as we said, the just judgment of God has checked your momentum, meting out to us the affliction appointed for our sins to be fulfilled. But now at least we urge you to rise up both in zeal for the truth and in sympathy for us, having learned everything—even what previously escaped your ears—from our most reverend brother and fellow deacon Sabinus, who will be able to relate to you in person whatever escapes this letter. Through him we urge you to put on the bowels of compassion, to lay aside all hesitation, to take up the labor of love, and to count as nothing the length of the journey, domestic preoccupations, or any other human concern. For the danger is not for one church, nor are two or three caught in this harsh storm. For nearly from the borders of Illyricum to the Thebaid the evil of heresy is spreading. Its wicked seeds were first sown by the infamous Arius, and having taken deep root through many who diligently cultivated impiety in the interim, it has now sprouted its destructive fruits. The doctrines of piety have been overturned, and the institutions of the Church are in confusion. And ambitions of those who do not fear the Lord leap upon the presidencies, and from now on the prize of impiety is openly set before them as the presidency, so that the one who has blasphemed more grievously is preferred for the episcopacy of a people.

The priestly dignity is gone; the shepherds who tended the Lord's flock with knowledge have failed; the resources for the poor are constantly squandered on personal pleasures and distributions of gifts by those who love to rule. The precision of the canons has been obscured; license to sin is abundant. For those who have attained rule through human efforts repay the favor of their striving by indulging sinners in everything for pleasure. Righteous judgment has perished; everyone follows the desire of his own heart. Wickedness is boundless; the people are unadmonished; the leaders are without freedom of speech. For those who have acquired power for themselves through men are slaves of those who granted them the favor. And now vengeance, ostensibly for orthodoxy, has been devised as a weapon for some in their war against each other; concealing their own enmities, they pretend to be hostile for the sake of piety. Others, evading reproach for the most shameful acts, drive the people into contentious strife against one another, so that they may overshadow their own conduct with common evils. Hence this war is implacable, since those who have done evil things fear the common peace as something that reveals their hidden shame. At this the unbelievers laugh; the weak in faith are shaken; faith is uncertain; ignorance has flooded souls, because those who corrupt the word in malice imitate the truth. For the mouths of the pious are silent, while every blasphemous tongue is loosed.

The holy things have been profaned; the healthy among the people flee the houses of prayer as schools of impiety, and in the deserts they raise their hands to the Master in the heavens with groans and tears. What is happening in most of the cities has surely reached even you: that the people, with women and children and even the elderly, pouring out before the walls, celebrate their prayers in the open air, enduring all the hardships from the weather with great patience, awaiting help from the Lord. What lament is worthy of these calamities? What springs of tears will suffice for such evils? Therefore, while some still seem to stand, while a trace of the old order is still preserved, before the shipwreck completely overtakes the Churches, hasten to us, hasten now, yes we beseech you, most genuine brothers; give a hand to those who have fallen to their knees. Let your fraternal bowels be moved for us, let tears of compassion flow. Do not overlook half the world swallowed by error, do not allow the faith to be extinguished where it first shone. What then you will do to take hold of the situation and how you will show compassion for the afflicted, you will certainly not need to learn from us, but the Holy Spirit itself will suggest to you. Yet there is need of speed to save those who remain, and of the presence of more brothers, so that those who come may constitute a full council, so that, not only from the dignity of those who sent you, but also from your own number, you may have credibility for correction.

They will renew the faith written by our Fathers at Nicaea, denounce the heresy, and bring peace to the Churches by gathering those of like mind into concord. For this is indeed the most pitiable of all: that even what seems healthy has been divided against itself, and we are beset, it seems, by sufferings similar to those that once surrounded Jerusalem during the siege of Vespasian. For they were constrained at once by the external war and consumed by the internal sedition of their own people. For us, in addition to the open war of the heretics, the uprising of those who seem to share our belief has brought the Churches to the utmost weakness. For this reason especially we need your assistance, so that those who confess the apostolic faith, having dissolved the schisms they have devised, may henceforth be subject to the authority of the Church, that the body of Christ may become whole, with all its members restored to integrity, and that we may not only bless the good things among others, as we now do, but also see our own Churches recover the ancient boast of orthodoxy. Indeed, it is worthy of the highest beatitude that which has been granted to your piety by the Lord: to distinguish the counterfeit from the genuine and pure, and to proclaim the faith of the Fathers without any hesitation—a faith which we have received and recognized as formed from apostolic characters, assenting both to it and to all that has been canonically and lawfully defined in the synodal letter.

To the Patrician Caesaria, concerning communion. And to commune each day and to partake of the holy body and blood of Christ is good and beneficial, since He Himself clearly says: "He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life." For who doubts that partaking continuously of life is nothing other than living in many ways? We, however, commune on the fourth day of each week, on the Lord's Day, on the fourth day, and on the Preparation, and on the Sabbath, and on the other days, if there is a commemoration of some saint. But that in times of persecution it is necessary for someone, in the absence of a priest or minister, to take the communion with his own hand is by no means a heavy burden to demonstrate, since long custom has confirmed this through the facts themselves. For all the monks in the deserts, where there is no priest, keeping communion at home, partake of it by themselves. In Alexandria and in Egypt, each of those even among the laity, for the most part, has communion in his own house and partakes of it by himself whenever he wishes. For once the priest has completed the sacrifice and given it, the one who has received it as a whole, partaking each day, ought to believe that he partakes and receives it fittingly from the one who gave it. For also in the church the priest gives the portion, and the one receiving it holds it with full authority and thus brings it to his mouth with his own hand. Therefore it is the same in power, whether one receives a single portion from the priest or many portions at once.

To Helias, the Ruler of the Province. I myself was eager to reach your honor, so that I might not be at a disadvantage compared to those who slander me by my absence. But since bodily illness prevented me, attacking much more violently than usual, I necessarily resorted to writing. I, then, admirable sir, having met with your honor previously, was eager both to communicate to your wisdom all the affairs of my life, and also to make some speech concerning the Churches, so that no room might be left for subsequent slanders. But I restrained myself, considering it entirely superfluous and beyond the measure of ambition for a man burdened with such a multitude of affairs to add also cares beyond the necessary ones. At the same time—for the truth shall be spoken—I also hesitated for another reason, lest we might come to a necessity of wounding your soul by mutual contradictions, a soul which ought to reap the full reward of piety in pure reverence toward God. For in truth, if we turn you towards ourselves, we will leave you little leisure for public affairs, and we will do something similar to what would happen if someone were to burden a helmsman, who is steering a newly built ship in a great storm, by adding to the cargo, when it is necessary to remove some of the freight and lighten the load as much as possible. Hence it seems to me that the great Basil, having observed this meddlesomeness of ours, left us to manage the Churches by ourselves.

I wish, however, to ask those who trouble your guileless ears what worse condition the public affairs have in our hands, or what small or great part of the common weal has been diminished by our management of the Churches, unless one should say that it is a harm to affairs to erect a magnificent house of prayer to our God and a dwelling around it, the free one reserved for the chief, and the subordinate ones distributed in order to the servants of the divine, the use of which is common both to you the rulers and to those who accompany you. And what wrong do we do in building hostels for strangers, for those who may visit in passing and for those in need of some care due to illness, and in establishing for them the necessary comfort, the nurses, the physicians, the beasts of burden, the escorts? With these it is necessary that arts follow, both those necessary for living and those invented for a seemly conduct of life, again other houses suitable for the works, all of which are an ornament to the place and a source of pride to our ruler, the praise redounding to him. For you were not compelled to our superintendence even for this reason, as if you alone were sufficient by the greatness of your purpose to restore what has decayed with time, to settle the uninhabited places, and altogether to transform deserts into cities. Was it then more fitting to drive away and insult one who cooperates in these things, or to honor and cherish him? And do not think, O best one, that what comes from us is only words; for we are already at the work, procuring the materials for the time being.

Such then are the matters concerning the defense against the ruler. But what must be answered to the reproaches of the fault-finders—as is necessary for a Christian and a friend who has cared for our reputation—I must now pass over in silence, as being both too lengthy for the measure of a letter and otherwise not safe to entrust to lifeless writings. However, lest in the time before our meeting, being led astray by the slanders of some, you be compelled to abate any of your goodwill toward us, do as Alexander did. For they say that when one of his associates was making an accusation, he opened one ear to the accuser, but carefully blocked the other with his hand, indicating that one who intends to judge rightly ought not to be wholly carried away at once by what is first heard, but should preserve half of his hearing unimpaired for the defense of the absent party. To Eusebius, Bishop of Samosata. Having written earlier to your reverence for several reasons, and especially that we might meet each other, I failed in my hope, since the letter did not reach the hands of your honor, the blessed deacon Theophrastus having received my letters while I was necessarily away on some circuit, but not having forwarded them to your reverence, having been overtaken by the illness of which he died. Hence I have come so late to writing that I can hope for no benefit from this letter, the time having been entirely confined to a narrow space.

The most God-beloved bishop Meletius and Theodotus commanded us to go to them, making the meeting a demonstration of love and also wishing that some correction be made of the matters now causing distress. They appointed for us the time of the meeting as the middle of the coming month of June, and the place as the village of Phargamoun, notable for the fame of its martyrs and the large gathering of the synod held there each year. Since, after my return, upon learning of the repose of the blessed deacon and that the letters were lying idle with us, I could not remain inactive—because thirty-three days still remain for us before the deadline—I sent these letters in haste to the most venerable brother Eustathius, our fellow minister, so that through him they might be forwarded to your reverence and the responses might be quickly returned to us. For if it is possible or otherwise agreeable to you to come, we ourselves will be present; but if not, we ourselves, God willing, will pay the debt from last year.

a meeting, unless some hindrance from our sins again befalls us, but we will postpone the meeting with the bishops to another time. To Sophronius, Magister. And who is so patriotic as you, who honor the native land that bore and nurtured you as parents, praying for good things for the whole city in common and for each individual privately, and not only praying but also confirming the prayers through yourself? For you are able, with God, to do such things, and may you be able for the longest time, being so good. Yet in your time our fatherland has become rich, having a man entrusted with its care such as they say no other, among those who know the most ancient of our affairs, has previously ascended the ruling thrones, but quickly deprived of him by the insolence of some who made the man's freedom and flattery-free nature a pretext for war against him and fabricated slanders against him, escaping the ears of your perfection. Therefore we are all gloomy in public, having lost a ruler who alone could raise our city, already brought to its knees, a precise guardian of justice, accessible to the wronged, fearsome to the lawless, equal to both poor and rich, and, greatest of all, restoring the affairs of Christians to their ancient honor. For that he is the most gift-free of men we know, and grants nothing contrary to justice, we have passed over as lesser than the rest of the man's virtue. These things we testify late in the day, like those who mourn, consoling themselves, doing nothing useful for the situation.

Nevertheless, it is not without use that the memory of the man should be stored in your great soul, and that you should feel gratitude toward him as a benefactor of the land that bore him; and if anyone should attack him because of those who are vexed at not having been preferred over what is just, you should defend and champion him, making clear to all that you consider the man your own, deeming sufficient grounds for intimacy the good testimony about him and the experience of his deeds, which is not proportionate to the length of time. For what would not have been accomplished by another even in many years, these things have been achieved by him in a short time. And sufficient gratitude and consolation for what has happened will be ours if you present him to the Emperor and clear away the slanders brought against him. Consider that through our single voice the entire fatherland is speaking to you, and that it is the common prayer of all that something favorable be done for the man through your excellency. To the Council of Tyana. The Lord, who reveals deep things and makes manifest the plans of hearts, has given even to the humble understanding of what some consider difficult-to-see contrivances. Therefore nothing has escaped us, nor has any of the things done been hidden. But nevertheless we neither see nor hear anything other than the peace of God and whatever leads to it. For if others are powerful and great and confident in themselves, yet we, who are nothing and worth nothing, would never so far presume as to think that in isolation we could overcome the circumstances, knowing well that we need the assistance of each one of the brothers more than one hand needs the other.