Letters 267–311

… virgin, respecting her faithfulness and helping her in her bodily weakness, and therefore stretching out your hand and caring for her in everything, you will do something generous and worthy of your Reverence, and, I will add, of our friendship. You and we both want this: that justice be done to our daughter Eugenia by your Reverence, and that you do not overlook her being wronged by her heirs. And she would be wronged, it seems to me, if she were deprived of any of what was left to her nursling by the nurse whom she brought up with every care, and who left her little in place of the much she had promised and hoped for. [Letter 160. To the same] What I thought just I have written. If anything else, and not this, has occurred to you (for I am persuaded it has occurred to you rightly), we will accept that too. Otherwise we would be wronging and transgressing against piety itself, bringing to you, as one who judges justly, those who come to us, but no longer abiding by what you judge; which it is the custom of very wretched people to do toward many … more uneducated

us, as men who take over a case that is no concern of ours, let him persuade us of this, and we will acquiesce. But now I fear it is not so. For, in the first place, the things of Christ are not divided, nor is Christ; nor does kindness have boundaries. And even if one were to suppose them divided, I know two who are burdened in this matter, your Reverence and ourselves, if justice should be overlooked; for those being judged are under the care of both. And there is fear that the truth may be swept away by the plausibility of arguments. For this reason, judge with me, and judge before me, and fight for our weakness, so that we may not be forced, with our body in such a state, to contend more hotly for the truth, with God and with the help of your prayers.

…; and, to put it briefly, the oath for us is the assurance given by the one who asked and was satisfied. Nor is it enough to claim to have been forced, as an excuse (for the force was the law that bound him); nor to prevail later in court; for going to law at all is perjury. This we persuaded our brother George too: not to make excuses for sins, nor to invent arguments as advocates for the offence, but to acknowledge the oath that was written down, and to weep before God and your Reverence over the sin, even if before he thought otherwise, deceiving himself. These things, then, we discussed with the man ourselves; and you, plainly, discussing them more carefully, will bring him to further compunction, as a great physician of souls; and, treating him with the canon for as long as seems good, you will then add the kindness of shortening the time. The measure of the time is the measure of the compunction.

… has an end. We have yielded to envy; we live as philosophers in quiet with God; we keep company with ourselves in our prayers; we have been freed from the tossing and tumult in the midst of things. But do you play the man for us and be strong, and contend for the Trinity as far as you can. And let the meek man be a fighter, as you saw us doing; for I do not want monkeys to be well thought of while lions keep quiet. And pray much for us, who are very weary, that we may have a peaceful departure, being already inclined toward it. [Letter 165. To the same] I hear that you are bearing your suffering unphilosophically, and I did not approve; for one must write the truth, especially to a friend and a man who lays claim to nobility of character. For I hold, as I persuade myself, very rightly on these matters. I praise neither utter insensibility nor excessive emotion; the one is inhuman, the other unphilosophical. One must walk the middle way, appearing more philosophical than those who are quite uncontrolled, and more human than those who philosophize beyond measure. If I were writing to someone else, perhaps I would need longer words, and would have partly to sympathize, partly to exhort, and perhaps partly to rebuke. For to share the grief is enough for consolation, and the sick man needs treatment from one who is well. But since I am addressing an educated man, it is enough to say this: become yourself again, and the man of the books you have lived with, in which there are many lives, many characters, many pleasures and smooth times, and many, as is natural, misfortunes and rough times. God weaves these together, it seems to me, so that neither what grieves may be without healing nor what gladdens without discipline, and so that, seeing the instability and unevenness in these things, we may look to him alone. These things, then, we apply to your suffering as a rule and a measure. If you know of anyone who was praised among those who gave way excessively to grief, or who achieved anything by grieving, make use of your grief and enjoy your mourning (no one grudges misfortune its lament);

but if such a man is blamed and censured, then the proverb says, “He who wounded will heal,” but now it is right to say, “he who was wounded.” For us it is shameful in other respects too, and against our law, to imitate the many in such things; since the Word makes us higher than present things, and persuades us to run past them as shadows and riddles, and to consider neither what grieves nor what gladdens to be truth, but to live elsewhere and look there, and to know vice as the only grievous thing, and virtue and intimacy with God as the only sweet one. Sing these things as a charm over yourself, and you will be easier; or rather, I know that you have already sung them and will sing them, even if we do not write.

…, in which, if we are not found too ignorant or unmanly, …, many may put us to the test. [Letter 167. To Helladius] See, here is a reminder of our friendship for you: our sweetest son Nicobulus, the first of those in our family for whom we take pains. You will do us a favour by introducing him to the more serious teachers; you will do us a greater one by shaping his character toward virtue. This will happen if he is urged to be often near you, and, most of all, if he knows that he is not overlooked; for the eye of an educator is a silent teaching. You owe us, if it is not tiresome to say so, both spiritual things, as a high priest to high priests, and literary things, as a man of letters to lovers of letters.

… , and of the common harbour of all who fear the Lord. Others enjoy your good things; to me only the memory is left, and envy of those who share them. So that you too may share in our good things, I introduce to you our most honoured brother and fellow presbyter Sacerdos; when you see him, I know you will say, “Gregory truly is a lover of all that is good.” [Letter 170. To Palladius] That I often dare to write is due not to our boldness but to your gentleness. For we have no surfeit of conversing with you by letter, since we cannot do so otherwise, God having so ordered our affairs. To our most honoured son and fellow presbyter Sacerdos (whom we have loved, and love, exceptionally), who lives as a true philosopher and is united to God by his way of life, and who has set out on behalf of his own people for the city made great by you, I do not know what greater favour we could do than to make him known to your goodness. [Letter 171. To Amphilochius] Having scarcely recovered from the pains of our sickness, we have run to you, the agent of our healing. For the tongue of a priest that speaks wisely of the Lord raises up the sick. Do, then, the better thing in your priestly ministry, and loose the greatness of our sins, as you lay hold of the sacrifice of the resurrection. For waking and sleeping your affairs are on my mind; you have become for us a good plectrum and a harmonious lyre, and have made your dwelling in our souls; by writing countless times you have trained our souls toward knowledge. But, most God-fearing one, do not hesitate to pray and intercede for us, when by a word you draw down the Word, when with a bloodless cutting you sever the Lord's body and blood, having your voice for a sword.

[Letter 172. To Helladius] I was pleased with your letter; how could I not be, that you remember even the dead? And since tokens of the feast came with it, the favour is greater. But add to what you give what you ask for: pray for us, if it is profitable, that we may again be reminded of the feast and remind others; if not, that we may be transferred there and receive, or see, the true feast, where is the dwelling of all who rejoice. For we have had our fill of the twists and turns of life. [Letter 173. To Postumianus]

… authority, receiving it not as a gift of fortune, as most would say, but as a prize of virtue, so that the office too may become more honoured and the emperor be praised for his judgment of you. Even these things are small; I will add something of ours too. You were first initiated into piety, and then you received office. For I remember your words, and the wonder of them still rings in my ears. If to these you add remembering your friends too (and you will, I know; I judge this from the past), we shall admire you the more. This is the limit of human happiness, or rather blessedness. That what lies beyond Gades cannot be crossed by men, we believe Pindar when he philosophizes. And since, having obtained great things, you are a debtor for great things, and God first made you ours and then, doing us good, set you over us, and since at the same time it is absurd not to ask the greatest things of so great a man, accept this advice from me. Think nothing so befits your office (since again a synod of bishops is gathering, I do not know why or how) as that the Churches should be brought to peace under you and through you, even if you must rebuke the factious more severely. If I seem to anyone superfluous, having withdrawn from affairs but not laid down my care, do not you wonder at it. For we did not yield piety, as we did thrones and arrogance, to those who wanted them; but now we are the more to be trusted, as I think you too think, since we serve nothing of our own but only the common good.

… as you see. And I would not have adorned my style, be well assured (for it is not my way), if I did not set great store by your friendship, and if it did not seem necessary to rouse you to write, like a colt at the starting line. You would be spurred to it most if you considered who I am, to whom I write, and whose son you are, and that sons should inherit their father's friendship as well as his property. Besides, it is well to reckon this too: that you are in your prime as a philosopher, while we are fathers of philosophers, and you must show your virtue to us, as noble athletes do to their trainers. Let me say something greater than what has been said. Not small are the hostages of philosophy we have with you: you are educating our blood, the blood of our nearest kin. You know whom I mean: the sons of our most genuine and most honoured son Nicobulus. Whenever you help them, think that you are remembering us, who are inferior to no one else, if one must believe those who say so, at judging speeches, testing diligence, and making good teachers more distinguished by our praises.

… we who do not put much before you and your learning. What shall we say has happened to you regarding us, my admirable friend? What is the reason you do not write? We will not accuse you of contempt, nor of idleness, nor of having nothing to write. It is not like you to suffer such things. Are you perhaps bearing a grudge over the iambics which that wretched Valentinus spat at you, and that with your consent? For it was not the part of a rhetor and a clever man to retaliate, when someone had first dared to write such iambics. But, “Achilles, tame your proud anger” … , and move your pen again for us, your ash spear; do not seem, having suffered small things, to respond with greater, in the episcopal manner. Ride, hunt, walk as you please; for my part we will write nothing more, nor jest. And enough of this; so highly do we value your friendship. So much for jesting, and so far. But what is no longer for jesters but for those very much in earnest: we again entrust to you our sweetest son Nicobulus. Receive him from us as from us, granting the work of rhetoric to his father and that of the sophist to us. For I know that for you … . To the admirable sophists you will leave only the frown and the fight over the bigger fee. How do things stand with your virtue? And have you made any progress in the things of God? which we think befits you more than anything.

For these are the things we like to ask about and to hear; the rest let us bid farewell, however it may be. And yet, even if we wished these other things too to go well, we would wish it for one reason only: that you may have things to despise, and may philosophize the more over greater things. Receive these greetings from us, and be to the good Nicobulus such as we hope. If we ask more, satisfy our insatiability, generous as you are. … There was an old law at Athens, and, as I say, a very good one: when the young reached manhood they were led to the crafts, and led in this way. The tools of each craft were set out in public, and the young were brought to them; and whatever each happened to delight in and run to, that craft he was taught; since what is according to nature generally succeeds, and what is against nature fails. What does the story mean for me? I say that you too, being suited for philosophy, should not neglect it, nor accustom yourself to something else that is not your own rather than hold to that toward which you incline, not only because it is the best, but because it is more natural to you. Not to force the stream of a river the proverb too teaches, and poetry, that one who knows horsemanship should not wish to sing; lest something happen, lest you fail both in horsemanship and in

But what is this suitability? As it appeared to me on consideration: first, your character, the calm and artless quality of your disposition, unsuited to these twists of life. Then the good nature and loftiness of your soul, and its readiness for contemplation. Third, your care of the sick and your bodily weakness; since this too seems to Plato no small help toward philosophy. And you are of such an age that the passions are already declining. And you seem to me not to be bent by poverty but rather to take pride in it. And you know how to feel shame, which is not like the rhetors. Nor is your voice foul, nor have you become wicked, nor are you a man of the marketplace, nor have you, to put it briefly, any of those marks by which Democritus, better at demagoguery than Aristophanes, portrays the market man. But though you are called a rhetor, you belong to the rhetors in everything rather than in character. Do not, then, be willing to throw away as much philosophy as you have already gained, nor hold the second place in second things rather than the first in the greatest. And even if we granted you the first place here, do not consent to be best among jackdaws when you could be an eagle. How long shall we be puffed up by small things that creep on the ground, and play among youngsters and fictions, and be carried away by applause? Let us move away from here; let us become men; let us throw away dreams, run past shadows, and leave to others the pleasures of life, which are more painful. Let envy and time and fortune manage others, toss them about and play with them. Let what they call the instability and unevenness of human affairs go to perdition: thrones, dominions, riches, splendours, exaltations, falls, this cheap and contemptible little glory, by which

one would be more disgraced in being exalted than in being laughed at: the toys and shows of this great stage. But let us lay hold of the Word, and choose to have God in place of everything, the only lasting good and truly ours, so that we may have good repute here too, for those who are still small and seek it, or at any rate that from there; since the prize of virtue is to become god, and to be illumined with the purest light, the light contemplated in the threefold Monad, whose rays we now have in measure. Toward this go, advance, take wing in your mind, lay hold of eternal life, stop nowhere in your hopes until you come to the highest object of desire and blessedness; and you will praise us, I know well, a little now, and a little later more abundantly, when you see yourself in what we promise, and find these things to be not an empty fancy nor fictions of the mind, but the truth of realities.

“You are of a good father, dear child,” from what I hear about you. Only be lifted up, and prosper, and reign; and we will speak well of you, even if you do not yet profess philosophy. For we attend not so much to what you say as to what you do; since this very refusal to profess philosophy is very philosophical, as Dionysius the critic says of Lysias the orator, that his artlessness was very artful. [Letter 181. To Saturninus] Even if the height of your office is unapproachable, friendship is kind, and through it we have dared to bring you this request. To all the benefits you have done us add this too: be pleased to look kindly on our most learned son …, a man worthy of your virtue in life and in speech, and to grant him your protection in whatever he needs from your goodness. We will repay with prayers, the only way we can repay our benefactors.

…, nor are they so hostile toward us. But having asked much because of my own deadness, and at the same time fearing the burden of the Church being neglected, I asked of them this favour, which is not contrary to the canons and gives us relief: that a shepherd be given to the Church; and he has been given through your prayers, one worthy of your piety. Him I also place in your hands, the most venerable Eulalius, the most God-beloved bishop, in whose hands may I breathe my last. If anyone thinks that another must not be ordained while a bishop is living, let him know that he has no hold on us here. For it is plain to all that we were appointed not for Nazianzus but for Sasima, even if for a short time, out of respect for our father and for those who begged us, we accepted the presidency as strangers.

… of meeting, and much thanks to the one who granted it. As for writing to the other bishops about whom you wrote, I will leave it aside, for it is not yet the time. And at the same time my sickness makes me more hesitant about it; but what we write to you we write to them too, through you. Let my lord the most God-beloved bishop Helladius stop meddling in our affairs. For he investigates these things not with a spiritual but with a contentious purpose, not for exactness in the canons but to satisfy his anger, as is clear from the timing and from many who have been stirred up along with him without reason; for one must speak so and not give offence. For if I had been in such bodily health as to be able to preside over the Church of Nazianzus, for which I was proclaimed at the beginning, and not for Sasima, as some wrongly persuade you, I would not have been so wretched, nor so ignorant of the divine ordinances, as either to neglect the Church or to pursue the ease of life rather than the rewards laid up for those who labour for God and work with the talent entrusted to them. For what would be the profit of my many labours and great hopes if I took bad counsel about the greatest things? But since my body is in a bad state, as is plain to all, and I feared no burden from this withdrawal for the reason I have given, and I saw that the Church was clinging to us but was being harmed in vital matters and almost dissolved by my own dissolution, I asked my lords the most God-beloved bishops, I mean those of my own country, both before and now, to give the Church a head; and with God they have given one, worthy both of my desire and of your prayers. Know this yourself, then, most honoured lord, and teach the other bishops to accept and confirm it with their votes, and not to burden our old age by believing slanders. And let this also be added to the

letter: as for my lord the most God-beloved fellow minister Bosporius, if your inquiry finds anything wrong concerning his faith, which it is not even lawful to say (I pass over his long years and our testimony), judge it yourselves. But if the dispute over the parishes is manufacturing the charge of false doctrine, and the charge is new, do not be swept away by slanders, nor make them stronger than the truth, I beg you, lest you bring into despondency many who have chosen to do well. In health, in good cheer, and advancing in the things of God, may you be granted to us and to the Church, our common pride. [Letter 184. To Amphilochius] …

[Letter 185. To Nectarius] When others praise one or another of your qualities, and all, as in the marketplace, put forward your praises, I contribute what concerns me, and it is no less than any: that you deign to honour us and, like a beloved child, to console a father's old age. Therefore now too I have dared to bring this request on behalf of the most venerable and most God-beloved bishop Bosporius, ashamed that so great a man should need our letters, whose venerableness both his way of life and his years confirm; but no less ashamed to keep silent and say nothing on his behalf, when I have a voice, honour the faith, and know the man best of all. The dispute about the parishes you will no doubt settle yourself, according to the grace of the Spirit in you and the order of the canons. But let this not seem tolerable to your Reverence: that our affairs should be pilloried in the public courts. For even if the judges of such cases are Christians, as by God's kindness they are, what has the sword in common with the Spirit? And even if we grant this, how or where is it just for the question of the faith to be entangled with other disputes? Is the most God-beloved bishop Bosporius heterodox to us today? Are the grey hairs weighed in the balance today of a man who has brought back so many from error, given such proof of orthodoxy, and is the teacher of us all? No, I beg you, give no room to such slanders; but, if possible, reconcile what is divided, and let this be added to your praises; and if not, at least do not allow all of us to be insulted through such abuse, with whom he has lived and grown old, and whom you know to be exact heralds of the Godhead, in

danger and out of danger, who will not endure to take anything away from the one inaccessible Godhead. And pray for us, I beg you, who suffer greatly from sickness. I and all who are with me greet the brotherhood with you. In health, in good cheer, and of good repute in the Lord, may you be granted to us and to the Churches as their common support. … What would you have done if I myself had been present … ? Plainly you would have taken every care to free us from the harassment, if one must judge from the past. Grant us this now too through our most modest niece, who falls at your feet through us; respecting the age of the suppliant, respecting her character and her piety, which is not like that of most women; respecting, besides the rest, the woman's quiet life, and that she now has trouble from her own relatives; and above all respecting our request. The greater favour is the speed of the benefit we ask. For even the unjust judge in the Gospel granted the widow his kindness, but after much supplication and persistence. From you let there be speed, so that she may not suffer long from cares and hardships in a foreign land; even though I know very well that your piety will make even the foreign land her own.

… your words owed him a funeral speech, you whose art is speaking and writing. So much for the reproof; for those who reproach in friendship must not do so beyond the bounds of friendship. What you write about our sweetest son Nicobulus is very great and wonderful, enough to carry away a father's easy temper, which readily believes what it wishes. But we will accept it as true when the young man, giving us proof, is found not unworthy either of your promises or of our hopes. [Letter 188. To Stagirius] You are Attic in your learning? We are Attic too. You preside over the young? We over every age. You shape them for speaking? We for character. Many things are common to us; but one, in place of all and before all, our sweetest son Nicobulus, lies between us. By doing well by him you will show both your learning and our friendship, if you care about it. I think you do; for old athletes are honoured by young ones, so much so that in offering them the prizes of victory they are thought fair-minded about the laws of the contest.

… having imposed on ourselves the riskless prize. [Letter 190. To the same] “O Odysseus, how sorely you have struck me,” reproaching me with Stagirism, and … us most carefully. I praise your frankness in writing what you write; for it is better to speak out what grieves than to keep quiet as if we would not know. I too have a charge to bring. But so that I may keep the law of the courts, I will first make my defence, then accuse; and both with equal goodwill. My Nicobulus went to the good Stagirius, not at all by our wish (do not suppose that; I am not so forgetful either of Athens or of your friendship and companionship); but he set out of his own accord, his father so wishing; and he was entrusted to him by me through letters. What is unfriendly or inhuman in this? Now that you have the defence, receive the accusation too.

since it has become the custom to call fellow craftsmen rival craftsmen. For how long will this go on? And where shall we stop this sophistic abuse? Until what happens? Until death cuts us off from our wickedness? For a young man, overcome by ambition and seeking gain, to do these things, and moderately at that, has some excuse (for I will play Demosthenes a little for your sake); but at this age, and in this way, to butt and be butted like rams is altogether untimely and quarrelsome, not only because it is unseemly and quite illiberal, but also because the thing is so very easy: “Whatever word you speak, such will you hear in return,” like a stream flowing back (for I will use Homer again). … What wisdom is it, when one can be first in virtue, to be beaten by vice, or even to win, which is much worse? But I blame the judges too (the truth shall be told), because what they punish when they judge they praise when they listen. And not only that, but they also have many who join in the praise, who fan the vice and are so far divided by their partisanship. Whereas, if the charge is disbelieved, it ought not to be applauded; and if it is believed, it ought to be tried in public; or rather, if it is false, the accusers should be refuted, and if true, those against whom it is made; and not so lightly make sport of the greatest thing, the good name of the well-born. If, then, you will listen to me at all (for I am speaking to both of you), give up such speeches and censures, if for no other reason, out of respect for your grey hair, or out of weariness with such shameful things. Consider honouring the old advice that bids us practise virtue when we have enough to live on. You will not be plotting against yourselves, but you will be plotting against the hopes of the young,