Epistola Paraenetica Ad Valerianum Cognatum

Saint Eucherius, Bishop of Lyon, Paraenetic Letter to His Kinsman Valerianus, on Contempt for the World and Secular Philosophy. Those who are bound together by the bond of love are well bound by the bond of blood. Thus we too may rightly glory in this very gift of God, since charity no less than kinship ties us, and two relationships draw us together into one affection, one of which we received from the parents of our flesh, the other we have taken up ourselves. This twofold bond, by which we are connected (being allied on one side by birth, on the other by love), has compelled me to write to you at somewhat greater length, so that I might commend to your mind the cause of your soul, and assert that true blessedness, capable of eternal things, is the work of our profession. For since I love you as much as myself, I necessarily desire that you, as my other self, should attain the highest good. And indeed you do not shrink from a profession of holy life, even by your pious disposition, for you have anticipated in many things, by a precocious felicity of character, what the sacred teachings instruct, so that you seem to me to have taken possession of certain religious duties, as it were, through a provident nature, by the indulgence of our Lord and God already shown toward you in this. It is by His grace that divine doctrine can partly find its own goods in you, and partly bestow them.

Although you are raised to the highest peaks of worldly rank by your father and father-in-law, and are surrounded by illustrious titles from both sides, I nevertheless covet for you the far superior heights of honor, and I call you not to earthly dignities, but to heavenly ones; not to the honor of the age, but to that of the ages. For this glory is certain and indelible: to glory in eternity. Therefore, I will speak to you not of the wisdom of this world, but of that secret, hidden wisdom which God predestined before the ages for our glory (1 Cor. 2). I will speak to you with great zeal, having provided very little for myself, but having considered more what I wish for you than what I am able to do for myself. The first duty of a man who has been established and brought into the light, my dearest Valerianus, is to know his own author, and having known him, to receive him; and to devote his life—that is, the divine gift—to divine service and worship. So that what he has received by the gift of God may be completed by devotion to God, and that what he unworthily took from the same may be rendered back to him in subjection. For we are guided by sound opinion to consider that, just as we were brought forth by him, so we belong to him. Hence, whoever understands that our Creator, in fashioning man, made us both for himself and for himself, perceives his intention plainly and magnificently. Next, it is best to give principal care to the soul, so that what is prior in utility may not be posterior in consideration.

Among us, the first concerns should hold what are considered first, and the highest parts of care should claim for themselves the salvation which is highest. This should occupy us for its own protection and defense, no longer merely first, but alone. Let it overcome everything by that zeal with which it surpasses everything. We owe the highest observance to God, then the greatest to the soul; and yet this is so that, although both are preeminent, one cannot be observed without the other, as it seems. Thus, whoever has satisfied God has necessarily already consulted the soul; and again, whoever has consulted the soul has necessarily already satisfied God. Thus, concerning each of the highest among us, the matter is settled by a useful and compressed summary: so that if someone has diligently fulfilled one, he has contributed both, because by the ineffable divine kindness, usefulness itself becomes a sacrifice to God. Much use of treatments is devoted to the body; much effort is given to this work in hope of healing. Does the soul not deserve medicine? And if various aids are applied to the body through the pursuit of preserving health, it is not right, however, for the soul to lie excluded, as it were, and, as if neglected, to waste away from its own diseases, and to be alone exiled from its own remedies; indeed, more should be conferred on the soul if so much is provided to the body.

For if some have rightly said that the flesh is a servant and the soul the master, we ought not to place the master in a lower position and prefer the servant by unjust right. The better part justly demands greater attention, because all our care must be directed to where the more abundant dignity of our substance resides. It is not fitting that in this honor of our concern we should subject ourselves to the worse. For the flesh, prone to vices, drags us down to the earth, as if to its own origin (Gen. 8); but the soul, coming from the Father of lights, strives upward, as is the way of iron in fire. This in us is the image of God; this is the precious pledge of the divine gift. Let us guard this with all our might, with our utmost strength; if we rule and preserve this, we protect God's deposit (2 Tim. 1). For what place is there for building, unless you have laid the foundations? Salvation is the foundation for one who intends to build up other benefits. Moreover, how can anyone add what follows, if he has not even possessed the first? How will he increase by the growth of what succeeds, if he fails in the beginnings of what precedes? How can he think to have a share in blessedness, when he is negligent of salvation? Lacking life, how can he abound in a happy life? Or what good is it, if he adds to his foods, but has no means to care for the soul? Concerning this, our Lord Jesus Christ says: For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but suffers loss to his own soul (Matt. 16)?

Therefore, no reason of economy can stand if it is established that loss comes to the soul. Where there is damage to salvation, there is certainly no profit; for what profit is taken, unless the seat of taking is preserved unshaken? And so let us hasten, while there is time, to that true profit, to that holy and desirable commerce (Gal. 6). A few days can yield eternal life; yet those days, even if they possessed unharmed and uncontaminated blessedness of life, would still be considered of little worth because they are few. For nothing is great in substance that is small in time; nor is anything that is confined within a narrow end extended with long joys. The brief advantages of this world have brief utility. Rightly, therefore, even the good of a short life would seem to be preferred to the advantage of perpetual life, because the former would be temporal, the latter eternal happiness; because it would be fragile to enjoy brief goods, safe to rejoice in perpetual ones. But in fact eternal life is most blessed. For what can be called more happy than eternal life? This short life, however, is so very short that it is most wretched; it is pressed on all sides by the discomforts of surrounding sorrows; and it is wearied by failing evils, while it is tossed about by the injuries of accidents. For what is so untrustworthy, so changeable, so calamitous as the course of this life?

This is full of labor, full of anxiety, full of cares, and also full of dangers; and, torn by uncertain chances, it is disturbed by the afflictions of the body, distressed by the anguish of the mind, and made uncertain by the whirlwinds of perils. What utility, what reason is there, not to seek eternal goods, but to pursue temporal ones, even evil ones? Do you not see how, even in this life, any prudent person, for a place or a field in which he thinks he will remain longer, provides abundantly with expenditures for its use? And where one will be for a short time, he provides little; where for a longer time, he procures more? For us also, because in the present time is very brief, with straits pressing upon us, and in the future there will be ages, let us augment eternal life with suitable resources, and equip the brief one with suitable provisions, lest by a perverse foresight we devote the greatest care to a short time, and brief care to the greatest time. And I hardly know what ought to drive us more quickly or more effectively toward this most blessed life: whether the advantages of the future life, which are promised, or the disadvantages of the present life, which are seen. From that side, those things entice us most gently; from this side, these things drive us out vehemently. Therefore, since even the worst things support the better part, if we are not lured by goods, let us be driven out by evils. For the encouragement of better things, the best things harmonize with the worse, and different things concur to the same utility. For, while some things invite us, others put us to flight, both alike urge us toward the better.

For if some famous and wealthy man were to summon you to adopt you into the place of his children, would you not go through the difficulties of things set against you, and, conveyed by any journey, however long and remote, would you not hasten? God, the ruler of the universe and Lord of all things, calls you into adoption, imparting to you (if you wish) that sweet name of son, by which He calls His own only-begotten (Rom. VIII, Gal. IV, Eph. i), and are you not kindled, not hurried, not urged, so that swift death may not snatch away such a great condition by a speedy encounter? And to obtain this, will you not penetrate the trackless solitudes of the earth, or the uncertain distances of the far-off sea? When you wish, this adoption of yours is with you. Surely this matter will not hold us sluggish and idle, for that reason, because it is as ready as it is great? The more harshly will dissemblers experience this condition. For it is as much more destructive to the unwilling as it is ready for the willing. Certainly, it is the desire for life that has entangled us with the delight of the present thing. Therefore, loving life, we urge you toward life. It is a true reason for persuading, when it is demanded that we obtain from you what you desire. For the life which you love, we act as ambassadors among you (II Cor. v, 20; Eph. VI, 20); and this life, which you all love as small, we suggest that you love the eternal one. How we love it I do not know, if we do not desire that this life, which we love, be as beautiful as possible.

Therefore, that which, though narrow, pleases, should please more if it can be perpetual; and what has value for us when it has an end, should be above value for us if it can be without end. It is right, then, to have looked forward from the lesser life to the greater, so that a passage to the other may be built for us through this one—a passage which it is certainly not fitting for the companion to obstruct with indirect and harmful counsels. Let it not oppose, so as to hinder, so as to harm. For it is absurd and contrary that love of life should bring harm to life. Therefore, whether you think this life should be despised or embraced, in either case my cause is easy. For if it is spurned, there is one reason for spurning it: that a better life may be sought. And if it is loved, then all the more is that life to be loved which is greater. Yet I would have wished you to regard this life as a trial, to judge it most troublesome and disturbed by uncertain hardships (as indeed it is), and to spurn and reject it along with its occupations.

Let that interminable chain of worldly business be broken, and that one lifelong labor born of many necessities. Let us break the bonds of empty cares, whose interlocking links succeed one another, in which our occupation always, as it were, begins anew. Let those causes be removed—both empty and clinging to one another—in which, as long as life lasts, the zeal of mortals, while business is constantly being undertaken, is never finished. The tireless pursuit of such things has rendered this already short and narrow life even narrower. Through them come now empty joys, now bitter griefs, now anxious desires, now suspicious fears. Finally, let all those things be cast aside which make this present life short in occupation and long in sorrow. Let us repudiate the untrustworthy life of the world, suspect on both sides, where both high and low are equally unsafe. The lowly are crushed by humility; the lofty totter on their height. Place your status wherever you will—neither in the lowest nor in the highest is there rest here: both conditions escape the harsh lot of the whirlwind. The lesser is subject to insult, the greater to envy.

Two principal things, I think, are what most hold men bound in worldly affairs and, having captivated them by seductive pleasures, constrain them with alluring love: the pleasure of wealth and the dignity of honors. Of these, the former should be called not pleasure but poverty, the latter not dignity but vanity. These two, entangling with interlocking knots, hinder the step, a deceptive and intertwined alliance. They inspire deadly vices in human hearts with flattering desires, and weary the minds of mortals with facile delight. For what is more pernicious than these riches (to speak of them first), which are rarely amassed except with injustice? Such an administrator takes this thing, such a guardian keeps it. For "the root of all evils is covetousness" (1 Tim. 6:10). So great is the fellowship, almost even of name, between these two things, vices and riches. Are not these riches a kind of material for insults? Whence one of our own says: "For what else are riches but pledges of injury?" Do they not, as if set out as prizes for the wicked, provoke the eyes and minds of factious men, and in a way display and invite proscriptions themselves? But suppose these things do not happen; can we be certain whither they will migrate after us, wandering and fleeing? "He hoards," it says, "and does not know for whom he gathers them" (Ps. 38:7).

But even if an heir comes from your own loins, does not the heir often intercept the inheritance, and the accumulated wealth is consumed either by a poorly raised son or a badly chosen son-in-law? What pleasure do these riches have in themselves, whose possession is wretched and whose transmission is uncertain? Where are you being swept, devious and headlong love of men? Do you know how to love those things that come to you, and do you not know how to love yourself? What you love is outside; what you desire is external to you. Rather, return to yourself, so that you may be dearer to yourself than your possessions are. Certainly, if someone not ignorant of affairs should approach you, you would prefer that he love you yourself rather than those things that are with you; and you would choose that he direct his affection toward your life rather than toward your wealth. You wish this man to keep faith with you, not with your possessions. What you would wish another to grant to you, grant this yourself to yourself, who are the most faithful to yourself. Let us love ourselves rather than our own. And let these words have been said against wealth.

In the honors of this world, to say nothing of other things, what dignity can be esteemed in matters when, to this dignity, good and evil men alike ascend through ambition, and a single honor embraces men of unequal merit, and dignity no longer distinguishes the worthy from the unworthy, but confuses them? Thus, that which ought to prefer better men to worse has begun to equalize them; and in a novel way, there is almost nowhere less distinction between the best and the worst men than in honor. Is it not a greater honor to prefer to be among good men in such a state of honor, and to be esteemed more by one's own character than by indiscriminate honors? And these very honors (however they may be) how fleeting, how transitory are they? We have recently seen men conspicuous in honor, seated on the heights of high dignities, and having extended their patrimonies throughout the world with wealth spread everywhere. Their desires had overcome their successes, their vows had surpassed their resources. But I recall only private fortunes. Even kings themselves, exalted by great power, shone with gems on their coverings; marvelous to say, they gleamed with woven metals, their diadems glittered with distinct trees, the palace hall gleamed, furnished with courtly refinements, and roofs shone with gilded beams; their wills were called the rights of men, their words were called laws. Who can take refuge above the human pinnacle in temporal happiness? Behold, that ambition of theirs is nowhere, their most abundant wealth has vanished, the very masters of such great riches have passed away (Job 14; Wisdom 5).

The recent and renowned kingdoms among us are now but a kind of fable; all those things which were great here are now nothing at all. Nothing, I think—nay, I know for certain—did they take with them from those riches, honors, and kingdoms, except (if there was any in them) the substance of faith and piety. This alone accompanies them, destitute of all other things; this alone, inseparable and, as it were, faithful, attends them as they depart. They are now sustained by that aid; they now rest in those riches, in those honors alone. They now count these things among their benefits. Therefore, if we are captivated by honors and riches, let us be roused by true riches, true honors. Each best man transfers earthly honors and earthly riches into heavenly honors, heavenly riches: thither, indeed, where there is the ultimate and unconfused distinction of good and evil; where what we once obtain we always hold; where, if there is any place for obtaining, there will be none for losing.

But when we have spoken of the fragile possession of temporal goods, something must also be said about the condition of this brief life itself. What is this, I ask, what is this? Nothing do men see so daily as death; nothing do they so forget as death. The human race is driven by a swift mortality in its decline, and every posterity of succeeding ages runs its course by law. Our fathers have passed away, we shall depart, those who follow will come after; just as the waves from the deep, with others and still others coming upon them, break upon the farthest shores, so successive ages dash against the end of death. Let this consideration surround us day and night, let this memory of our condition resound about us. Let us think that the end of the journey we owe is already about to come; it will draw nearer to us the more it has delayed. Let us hope for the day as near; we do not know it to be far off. Let us prepare, as it is written, our ways for the departure (Malachi 3:4). If we think on these things, if we meditate on them, we shall not fear death by fearing it. Blessed are those who have already reconciled yourselves to Christ. No great fear of death harasses those who already desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ (Philippians 1); who await the last day of this life, already prepared, already calm, in silence. For it does not matter much when they end the temporal life, who pass into the eternal.

Let not the crowd of the negligent persuade us to neglect life, nor let us be led by the errors of others to the ruin of our own salvation. What will the multitude avail us in that judgment of God, where each will be judged individually, where the examination of merits, the deed of each, not the populace, will acquit? Let the ill-advising consolations of peril cease, let them cease. Surely it is better to have prolonged life with fewer than to have lost it with many. And so, let not the mere number of sinners draw us into carelessness about sins, nor let this—that others take too little thought for themselves—become for us a kind of authority. I beseech you, always regard another’s fault as a reproach, never as an example. But if it pleases you to turn your eyes to examples, look rather to that side where, though they are fewer, they are yet abundant in their own part. Look, I say, to that side where are those who wisely understand for what purpose they were born; and certainly, while they live, they plead the cause of their own life. They who are distinguished by useful work and outstanding in excellent virtue cultivate the present life and sow the future. Nor are examples of these lacking—not only abundant ones, but great ones as well. For what nobility of the world, what honors, what dignity, what wisdom, what eloquence, what learning has not already betaken itself to this service of the heavenly kingdom? What sublimity does not already submit itself, with surrender, to that light celestial yoke?

And indeed, it is beyond all error and ignorance for anyone to neglect the business of their own salvation. I could also, were it not too lengthy, recount by name many from countless numbers—how many illustrious men in the world have pursued this stricter observance of divine worship and this way of life. Yet, lest I omit all their examples entirely, I will briefly append a few in passing. Clemens, of ancient senatorial lineage and also from the stock of the Caesars, filled with all knowledge and most skilled in all the liberal arts, crossed over to this path of the righteous; and thus he flourished so excellently in it that he also became the successor to the prince of the apostles. Gregory, a priest from Pontus, foremost in the world in philosophy and eloquence; but later greater and more excellent in virtues, so much so that (as the testimony of our history relates concerning him, among other remarkable signs of his merits) a mountain is reported to have receded and a lake to have dried up through his prayers and petitions. Another holy man, likewise of the same name, Gregory, equally devoted to letters and philosophy, yearned for this heavenly philosophy. And it seems by no means to be passed over in silence, what pertains to the matter: that when Basil, previously familiar to him through secular studies and still devoting himself to the profession of rhetoric, entered his lecture hall, he seized him by the hand and led him away from the school, saying: "Leave those things aside and devote yourself to salvation.

And afterwards each memorable priest left, indeed, in the books of our Church, the illustrious monuments of their genius. Paulinus also, bishop of Nola, a singular and blessed example of our Gaul, once rich in the wealth of his intellect and the most abundant fountain of eloquence, so migrated into our sentiment and purpose that he even sprinkled all parts of the world, as it were, with his speech and works. Hilarius recently, and now in Italy the bishop Petronius, both ascended from that most full, as they say, seat of worldly power—one into the name of religion, the other into the priesthood. And when shall I unroll from that volume of multitude the most famous in eloquence: Firmianus, Minutius, Cyprianus, Hilarius, John, Ambrose? They had said, I believe, what one of our own says, when he roused himself from the world into this more blessed life, as if by this goad: they had said, I believe, "What is this? The unlearned rise up and seize heaven, and we with our teachings—behold where we wallow in flesh and blood" (Matthew 11)? Had they said that? And therefore they themselves afterward laid hands upon the kingdom.

Having set forth in part those whom a greater fervor of our faith possessed, who had fulfilled the philosophy, eloquence, and honors of the age, I come now to the kings themselves and to that head of the world. Nor shall I now think to commemorate all those earlier men devoted to religion and of royal dignity: only those illustrious to me—David in piety, Josiah in faith, Hezekiah in humility—will be brought forth from the memory of venerable annals. Some also from more recent times have arisen, and in this storm of ours, princes who have come nearer to the recognition of the true king, and have been granted to approach that highest Lord of lords with the utmost contrition of heart; an attentive reverence for the divine majesty has also been exhibited by both sexes from the court. These, I think, are rather to be set forth for emulation, whose examples, while they have salvation for the future, have authority from the present. You see how even the days and years, and all these ornaments of the sky, preserve the word and command of God with unwearied observance, and maintain the service of his precepts with unremitting law. Shall we, for whose uses these things are fabricated, into whose eyes they are thrust, we who are not ignorant of the heavenly commandments nor unaware of the divine will, pass over the precept of God with a deaf ear?

And to these indeed, the aforementioned supports of the world, it was once commanded what they should observe in the ages: but to us, the commands of the divine law are repeated through so many volumes, that at least in this, which is attributed to man himself, he may learn to obey the will of the author and to attend to his precepts: because all that, when it provides service, also provides an example. And yet, if some are unwilling to return to their author, can they for that reason avoid their Lord? Or by what means can they flee, who turn themselves away from God? Let them hear, holy David, let them hear you saying: Whither shall I go from your Spirit, and from your face whither shall I flee? If I ascend into heaven, you are there: if I descend into hell, you are present: if I take my wings at dawn, and dwell in the farthest parts of the sea, even there your hand will lead me, and your right hand will hold me (Ps. 138). Therefore, whether they wish it or not, they are subject to the Lord of the universe, and if they remove themselves in will, they do not withdraw in right. They are indeed absent in affection, but he is present in dominion: thus, what is most improvident and most uncontrolled, they wander enclosed, live outside the consideration of the Lord, and within his power. And if each man pursues a fleeing servant with a threatening search, and the assertor of his right follows him as he turns away; why does he not render to the heavenly Lord his own right over himself, and as soon as possible give himself into his servitude by a voluntary offering, a judge as fair to himself as he is in himself? Why are we fixed in the delightful sight of present things?

Why should we dwell so much on these things that we see? Do we live only by these eyes, and do we carry our eyes only for this one use? We also live by our ears, so that we may be eager for the promises. Great affections draw us through this part of the body as well. Let us await with fervent vows and more urgent desires what is promised, what is proclaimed. That faithful author, that author himself, impresses the faith of the promises upon us. We strive for the best things that are promised. Although if we wish to use even our eyes well and profitably, we are also largely carried away by desire for the future through them: if we turn back the admiration we derive from contemplating the world upon the author of such a great machine. Or if we think how great a splendor of light may meet our eyes in the future, since now such a great one insinuates itself: how magnificently the eternal form will shine in everlasting things, since now it is so beautiful in perishable things. Therefore, we ought not to press the services of our limbs toward the worse part; rather, let them be suitably tempered for both lives; and let them so guard the use of the temporal that they do not reject the service of the eternal. But if this diversion and love helps us, and delight stimulates the sense itself, this is clearly the love of the highest pleasure; it is not only what can be most abundantly loved, but also what ought to be most greatly loved: a pleasant, glorious, unique, eternal good.

Our God, I say, for whom you could burn with as great a fire as it is pious; if in the place of former desires, precious longings again succeed. If the dignity of so magnificent a thing ever captivated you in any way, nothing is more magnificent than He. If something, as if suited to glory and accommodated to it, ever seized you, nothing is more glorious than He. If you were led by the sight of splendid, shining things, nothing is brighter than He. If you were drawn by the beauty of fair things, nothing is more beautiful than He. If you thought you embraced truth in anything, nothing is more true than He. If you believed generosity was to be esteemed in anything, nothing is more munificent than He. Do you marvel at what is pure and simple? Nothing is more sincere than His goodness. Are you solicited by the abundance of flowing things? Nothing is more copious than that abundance. Do you love something as faithful? Nothing is more steadfast than His faith. Do you love something as advantageous? Nothing is more advantageous than the love of Him Himself. Is there anything that attracts you by the appearance of either severity or delight? There is nothing, in that greatness, in that condescension, either more terrible or more gentle. In adversity, kindness is required; in prosperity, sweetness: it is unique, from Him, either joy in happy times or solace in sad ones. Therefore, it is most fully reasonable that you love Him, in whom you have everything, above all. Riches, and whatever those things are that now hold you with their delights, are not only contained within Him, but are also held from Him. Let love, hitherto scattered, henceforth be rendered to divine vigils.

Still wandering in its affections, let chaste charity now be brought back to sacred use: and correct and direct that love, which has strayed through opinions, by restraining its error, and transfer your love to God: because whatever you now love is His; His, I say, it is His. For He is so great that those who do not love Him act unjustly, yet still they can love nothing but what is His. But I would have the just arbiter consider whether it is fair to love the work, while the craftsman is neglected and abandoned, the creator of all things; to rush headlong and indiscriminately into the desires for this thing; when surely God ought to have been enticed to love of Himself, even through this very affection for His works. And now man, perversely, turns only to the desires and services of such unworthy creations, and with incongruously divided affections, he is a seeker of the art, a deserter of the artist, and embraces the appearance whose author he does not admire. And what have we said of that great multitude of His sweetness? Or what have we uttered of the sweetness of such great and ineffable good, of the holy and profound treasury of His charity? Or when, in any matter concerning Him, can anyone attain the dignity of the thing itself by speaking? Therefore, let us consider that loving Him is no longer merely pleasurable, but also necessary. For it is impious not to love Him, to whom you cannot repay even when you have loved. It is most unjust that you should be unwilling to give to Him what you can give, to whom, even if you wished, you could not repay.

What shall we repay to the Lord for all that He has repaid to us (Ps. 115)? What shall we repay, even for this alone, that through faith He gave salvation to man, and established that the means by which He would spread hope throughout the world and life to mortals should be as easy as possible to accomplish? And to descend to these matters, do you think that all those external things of old, that is, nations and kingdoms, yielded to Roman dominion and authority for any other reason, and that a great part of the human race passed into a single people for any other reason, than that the faith, once infused, might more easily penetrate, like a medicine through a single body, through a single people, and that, once introduced into the head, it might quickly diffuse itself through the limbs? Otherwise, it would not have brought together so many peoples, diverse in rites and languages, nor would it have passed so far through the obstacles of ever-new stages. Finally, the blessed Paul, disseminating the faith through this same people, writes that he filled everything from Jerusalem to Illyricum with the Gospel of Christ (Rom. 15:10). But when would this have happened among nations either countless in number (Cicero, Pro Marcello) or barbarous in savagery? Hence it is that now the earth, from the rising and setting of the sun, from the north and the sea, resounds with Christ; that all the corners of the world hasten to life; while the Thracian receives the faith, the Libyan receives the faith, the Syrian receives the faith, the Spaniard receives the faith. Therefore, this is a great proof of divine mercy, that under Caesar Octavian, when the Roman possession held its summit, then God gave Himself to the lands.

Therefore, to use your own words before you, when the one hundred and eighty-fifth year above the thousandth is now turning from the beginning of this kingdom, whatever either under that ancient rule of kings or under that subsequent twin administration of consuls accrued to the Roman empire, all of it can be shown, if anyone is a suitable advocate, to have been prepared for the coming of Christ and provided for the spreading of the faith. We shall return to our subject. "Do not love the world," it says, "nor those things that are in the world" (1 John 2), because all these things flatter our sight with deceptive colors. That power of the eyes, attributed to light, should not be applied to error; and although it is open for the uses of life, it should not admit the causes of death. The desires of the flesh, as the Apostle excellently says, war against the soul (1 Peter 2:11); and every one of them is arrayed for our ruin and destruction, they keep a vigilant station when they rise up against us, in the manner of external enemies indeed; while they acquire as much strength for themselves as they subtract from us. Thus I have so far discoursed about the inextricable allurements of the ensnaring world, about honors and riches, as if the world flourished with its pleasant blandishments. Whatever the appearance of those things, once polished with shadowy lusters, has now grown obsolete, and all counterfeit splendor has perished. The world now scarcely has this, that it deceives. That image of things, once beautiful even for deceiving, has perished.

Before, it could not truly seduce us with its splendor; now it almost cannot corrupt us even with false display. It lacked solid goods; behold, it now fails even in its fleeting ones. Neither do things that are fair for a time adorn it, nor do things that will endure confirm it for the future; unless we deceive ourselves, the world can almost no longer deceive us. But why do we conceal and fail to bring forth what is stronger? We speak of the scattered riches of the world, when the world itself, verging on its end, is driven in its final spaces. How much greater and more serious is this, that the world itself will not last long? Why do we recall its worn-out resources and furnishings? Not undeservedly, it is pressed into decline, its strength consumed by age, and it is abandoned by its own supports, as it succumbs to the burden of a tottering old age. The last age of the world is filled with evils, just as old age is filled with diseases. Famine, pestilence, devastation, wars, terrors have been seen and are still seen in this hoary century. These are its own infirmities in its final years. Hence are often seen those signs in the sky, earthquakes, changes of seasons, monstrous births of animals: all these are portents of a time still proceeding, but already failing. And this is confirmed not by the words of our own weakness, but by the utterances of apostolic authority. For there it is read: "The ends of the ages have come upon us" (1 Cor. 10).

Since this has already been said long ago, why do we delay, why do we wait? That day presses upon us, now no longer ours alone, but also of the age. Every hour warns that the time of that due dissolution is at hand, when with double peril an alternating end and a twin crisis threaten one death for all. The mortality of the world now weighs upon me, wretched as I am, as if my own were not enough to terrify me. Why do we fondle our fears? There is no place for security when the end hangs over us indifferently, of each one and hence of all. The more so is this the case, not to say in this end of the age, but even in this decline of its affairs, the pitiable condition of men: who store up for themselves no hope of future joys, while they do not enjoy the delight of present things. They do not grasp the pleasure of a shorter life, nor can they hope for an eternal one. They do not use temporal goods, nor will they use eternal ones. Here they have too little, there no hope at all. Truly this state of man is to be lamented and pitied; unless perhaps it makes a fitting necessity out of a most bitter condition; unless for this very reason it corrects itself toward better remedies for its own advantage, and strives toward the vows of a more wholesome counsel; especially since the state of present time is so torn asunder that he who loses the benefit of one future age has lost both.

All the mind’s intention must be directed toward hope of the future; and that you may, as I hope, grasp it more fully and clearly, I will not refuse to open it up, even under the condition of some example. If someone today were to offer you five denarii of bronze, but promise five hundred gold ones for tomorrow, and give you the choice whether you would prefer to take the bronze now or the gold later, is there any doubt that you would prefer those great gifts, with but a small delay? You too, having considered the condition of this brief life and of eternal life, should not choose to take cheap things when you can hope for precious ones. It is not worth as much to have taken small things as it is to wait for what is great. But if all this fragile thing that is in the world we both see and grasp (while hope, indeed, takes its name from “hoping for”), it is clear that hope is by no means possessed in this world, in which we enjoy the things we behold. For hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees (Rom. 8:24)? Therefore, whatever hope is mingled with human affairs must be sought in the future; otherwise, it cannot even be called hope, if it is not hoped for.

Therefore, we pursue a more evident hope of a thing in the future than we experience hope of a thing in the present. Behold, those things which are brought before our very eyes we do not perceive absolutely, as if with oppressed sight; but we gaze much more certainly upon those things which are offered from afar, as if with unimpeded eyes: so it has nearly come to pass that there is no room for doubt concerning present and future things. For present things, as if thrust into the eyes, are not rightly discerned; future things, as if withdrawn from the eyes, are perceived most clearly. Nor do we presume this confidence in future things from an uncertain author, but from our Lord Jesus Christ, the truest guarantor of truth, who promises the just an unending kingdom and the ample rewards of most blessed eternity; who also, through the ineffable sacrament of assumed flesh, being both man and God, reconciled man to God; and through the great and hidden mystery of the passion, absolved the world from guilt. And so he was manifested in the flesh, was justified in the spirit, appeared to angels, was preached to the nations, was believed by the world, was taken up in glory: for which reason God exalted him, so that all things now confess, in heaven and on earth, in the sea and in the abysses, that the Lord Jesus is in glory, King and God before the ages (Phil. 2).

Why do you not reject those precepts of the philosophers, to the reading of which you devote your effort and talent, and turn your mind to imbibing the studies of Christian doctrine? There too you will find where your eloquence and talent may be exercised; and soon it will be clear to you how much these precepts of ours, that is, of piety and truth, are to be preferred to those precepts of the philosophers. For in those precepts of theirs, either virtue is shadowed or wisdom is false; in these, however, consummate justice and solid truth are contained. Hence it is permissible to say that others have usurped the name of philosophy, but we have the life. For what precepts of living can be given by these men? They do not know the cause. For, being ignorant of God and deviating from the very beginning of justice, they are carried into subsequent error in all other matters. Thus it happens afterwards that the end of such studies is vanity. If any among them define more honorable things, they serve this boastfulness, they labor for it; thus among them abstinence from vices is not empty of vices. They are, therefore, as it is written, those who savor earthly things (Phil. 3:19). From this it is clearly shown that they do not see true justice, true wisdom. Or will someone from that school of Aristippus see the truth, who differs in his talent not at all from swine or cattle, since he places happiness in bodily pleasure: for whom the belly is God, and glory (Ibid.) in his private parts? Will this man, among whom the prodigal, the shameless, the adulterer philosophizes, teach what is honorable and just?

But let another place be reserved for speaking against the philosophers; I will come to those matters for which I speak with you. Now set aside those general maxims of theirs, in which you take delight, briefly gathered from every kind of disputation, and turn to the studies and writings of our own. There, my excellent friend, you will satisfy your breast with manifold instruction. There, to inculcate faith, though not in these very words, yet this will be said to you: The Word of God, he who does not believe, does not understand. There, you will be admonished: The Lord, because you call him Lord, fear; because you call him father, love. There, you will learn true sacrifices, hearing: The most acceptable sacrifices to God are justice and mercy. There, this will be instilled in you: If you love yourself, love your neighbor; you will give nothing more to your own advantage than what you bestow on others. There, you will be commanded: Think no cause so worthy that the death of a man becomes just for its sake. There, against unlawful things you will be warned: Resist lust, as a most bitter enemy who rejoices to insult the vanquished, even with outrage to the body. There, that you may not covet, you will be taught this: It is better not to want what you do not have, than to have what you want. There, that you may not become angry, this will be impressed upon you: He who becomes angry when provoked is then only not angry when he is not provoked. There also, concerning enemies, you will hear: Love the one who does not love, because scarcely anyone does not love the one who loves. There, this will be repeated to you often: He stores a treasure well who distributes it to the needy.

For he will not be able to lose what he has placed by giving. There also you will be persuaded of more fortunate things, when it is said: The fruit of faithful marriages is continence. There you will learn to discern things, when you hear: The evils of this world are common to the just and the unjust. There this will be offered for you to hear: It is a greater sickness for the soul to languish with vices than for the body with diseases. There this will be pronounced to commend peace to you: For the impatient, similarity of character is a cause of discord. There, lest you follow the wicked, you will hear this: The prudent man is informed by both the wise and the fool; the one teaches what is to be imitated, the other what is to be avoided. There also these things are uttered: Many things benefit those who do not know them; therefore God’s kindness is no less in what is hidden than in what is revealed. There you will be admonished: Give thanks to God no more in prosperity than in adversity; and when things are prosperous, confess that you have not deserved them. There even more recondite things will be opened to you, when these are proclaimed: That fate does not exist—let the nations or their own laws inquire; which certainly do not punish unless the will of the doers is involved. There you will hear, for preserving purity, that even these things are commanded: If you wish to be truthful, you will not be suspicious. For we do not suspect except what we do not know. There also you will hear this about more sublime matters: The mind fixed on God, when it is titillated by passions, falls from heaven to earth.

There also these things will be recalled to you: When here the wicked sometimes obtain good things, and the good are afflicted by evils, those who do not believe in the future judgment of God judge God unjustly (which may it not be). There it will be suggested to you: In your secrets, do not do what you wish men not to know; do not even think what you wish God not to know. There it will be said to you against all fraud: It is more wretched to deceive than to be deceived. There also, against boasting, these conclusive things will be enjoined upon you: Flee vanity all the more, the better you become. For other vices grow from vices, but vanity grows from virtues. And these few things, indeed, have been briefly and selectively tasted from the studies. But if you, as a searcher, approach the very sources of sacred eloquence, you will marvel not at the outer things more than at the inner. Thus Scripture, while it shines within, like every most precious gem, sends the eyes of those contemplating it into a deep radiance. Accustom yourself, never shrinking, to this as you sharpen the edge of your mind; learn to feed the hunger of the soul with this inner and wholesome food. Through the work of the merciful Lord, we do not doubt that it will come to pass that, as one eager for our own things and a dissembler of yours, you will disdain empty things and desire solid ones. It is most imprudent, when God has done almost so many things for us, that we ourselves have done nothing for ourselves; and when He, in His works, has looked to human advantages, that man is unwilling to consult for himself. But we do consult, if we render ourselves into the worship and affection of God.

True blessedness, indeed, is to spurn the blessedness of the world, and, having neglected earthly things, to burn with divine passion. Therefore, even now direct all your words and deeds to God or for the sake of God. Obtain that she may always be your companion, and she will be your guardian. Innocence is already faithful. It is a great thing to follow virtue, and to contribute something to it ourselves according to our human capacity. Nor should we fear that the mind, through a better life, cannot free itself from those things which have become ingrained by custom. That same one to whom we offer ourselves to be healed and protected supplies strength to our affection. But whence? so that anyone might be able to comprehend, even by estimation, the reward of future goods. Behold, divine munificence, as we see, has granted the common use of the most precious light to all. The pious and the impious are given to behold the same sun; all creatures keep their service with benign offices for the good and the bad; the whole world is an undivided possession of both good and evil.

Since here, therefore, God bestows such splendid things equally on the just and the unjust, what must be thought those which He reserves for the just? Let us consider: He who has given so much, how much will He restore? He who is so great in gifts, how great will He be in rewards? If the kindness of the giver is so inestimable, what of that of the rewarder? Ineffable are the things which God has prepared for those who love Him, plainly and manifestly right, because it is truly immense how great a return He will make to the good, who bestows such great things upon the ungrateful. Cast your eyes about, and from the sea of your affairs look out, as into a certain harbor of our profession, and turn the prow. This one harbor is that into which we may be borne back from all the tossing of the fluctuating world, which we, weary, may seek amid the rushing whirlwinds of the world; to this all must flee who are harassed by the storm of the roaring world. Here is the most faithful station and sure rest. Here is a deep recess, shut off from the waves, silent. Here is a calm tranquility, a serene brightness. When you have been brought here, your ship, after vain labors, will be safely held, founded here upon the anchor of the cross. But now the more lengthy page of writing demands a limit. Take, for the honor of God, the force of the heavenly precepts collected tightly and briefly into a summary. These are all the commandments: forgive, and acknowledge me.