Letter 105
To his Brother
I should be altogether lacking in sense, if I did not show myself
very grateful to the inhabitants of Ptolemais, who consider me worthy of an honour to
which I should never have dared to aspire. At the same time I ought to examine, not to the
importance of the duties with which they desire to entrust me, but merely my own capacity
for fulfilling them. To see oneself called to a vocation which is almost divine, when
after all one is only a man, is a great source of joy, if one really deserves it. But if,
on the other hand, one is very unworthy of it, the prospects of the future are sombre. It
is by no means a recent fear of mine, but a very old one, the fear of winning honour from
men at the price of sinning against God.
When I examine myself, I fail to find the capacity necessary to raise
me to the sanctity of such a priesthood as this. I will now speak to you of the emotions
of my soul: for I cannot speak to any one in preference to you who are so dear to me, and
have been brought up with me. It is quite natural that you should share my anxieties, that
you should watch with me during the night, and that by day we should search together
whatever may bring me joy or turn sorrow away from me. Let me tell you, then, how my
circumstances are, although you know in advance most of what I am going to say to you.
I took up a light burden, and up to this moment I think I have borne it
well. It is, in a word, philosophy. Inasmuch as I have never fallen too far below the
level of the duties which it imposed upon me, people have praised me for my work. And I am
rgarded as capable of better things still, by those who do not know how to estimate in
what directions my talents lie. Now, if I frivolously accept the dignity of the position
which has been offered to me I fear I may fail both causes, slighting the one, without at
the same time raising myself to the high level of the other. Consider the situation. All
my days are divided between study and recreation. In my hours of work, above all when I am
occupied with divine matters, I withdraw into myself. In my leisure hours I give myself up
to my friends. For you know that when I look up from my books, I like to enter into very
sort of sport. I do not share in the political turn of mind, either by nature or in my
pursuits. But the priest should be a man above human weaknesses. He should be a stranger
to every sort of diversion, even as God Himself. All eyes are keeping watch on him to see
that he justifies his mission. He is of little or no use unless he has made himself
austere and unyielding towards any pleasure. In carrying out his holy office he should
belong no longer to himself, but to all men. He is a teacher of the law, and must utter
that which is approved by law. In addition to all this, he has as many calls upon him as
all the rest of the world put together, for the affairs of all he alone must attend to, or
incur the reproaches of all. Now, unless he has a great and noble soul, how can he sustain
the weight of so many cares without his intellect being submerged? How can he keep the
divine flame alive within him when such varied duties claim him on every side? I know well
that there are such men. I have every admiration for their character, and I regard them as
really divine men, whom intercourse with man's affairs does not separate from God. But I
know myself also. I go down to the town, and from the town I come up again, always
enveloped in thoughts that drag me down to earth, and covered with more stains than
anybody can imagine. In a word, I have so many personal defilements of old date, that the
slightest addition fills up my measure. My strength fails me. I have no strength and there
is no health in me. I am not equal to confronting what is without me, and I am far from
being able to bear the distress of my own conscience. If anybody asks me what my idea of a
bishop is, I have no hesitation in saying explicity that he ought to be spotless, more
than spotless, and in all things, he to whom is allotted the purification of others.
In writing to you, my brother, I still have another thing to say. You
will not be by any means the only one to read this letter. In addressing it to you, I wish
above all things to make known to every one what I feel, so that whatever happens
hereafter, no one will have a right to accuse me before God or before man, nor, above all,
before the venerable Theophilus. In publishing my thoughts, and in giving myself up
entirely to his decision, how can I be in the wrong? God himself, the law of the land, and
the blessed hand of Theophilus himself have given me a wife. I, therefore, proclaim to all
and call them to witness once for all that I will not be separated from her, nor shall I
associate with her surreptitiously like an adulterer; for of these two acts, the one is
impious, and the other is unlawful. I shall desire and pray to have many virtuous
children. This is what I must inform the man upon whom depends my consecration. Let him
learn from his comrades Paul and Dionysius, for I understand that they have become his
deputies by the will of the people.
This is one point, however, which is not new to Theophilus, but of
which I must remind him. I must press my point here a little more, for beside his
difficulty all the others are as nothing. It is difficult, if not quite impossible, that
convictions should be shaken, which have entered the soul through knowledge to the point
of demonstration. Now you know that philosophy rejects many of those convictions which are
cherished by the common people. For my own part, I can never persuade myself that the soul
is of more recent origin than the body. Never would I admit that the world and the parts
which make it must perish. This resurrection, which is an object of common belief, is
nothing for me but a sacred and mysterious allegory, and I am far from sharing the views
of the vulgar crowd thereon. The philosophic mind, albeit the discerner of truth, admits
the employment of falsehood, for the light is to truth what the eye is to the mind. Just
as the eye would be injured by an excess of light, and just as darkness is more helpful to
those of weak eyesight, even so do I consider that the false may be beneficial to the
populace, and the truth injurious to those not strong enough to gaze steadfastly on the
radiance of the real being. If the laws of the priesthood that obtain with us permit these
views to me, I can take over the holy office on condition that I may prosecute philosophy
at home and spread legends abroad, and allow men to remain in their already acquired
convictions. But if anybody says to me that he must be under this influence, that is the
bishop must belong to the people in his opinions, I will betray myself very quickly. What
can there be in common between the ordinary man and philosophy? Divine truth should remain
hidden, but the vulgar need a different system. I shall never cease repeating that I think
the wise man, to the extent that necessity allows, should not force his opinions upon
others, nor allow others to force theirs upon him.
No, if I am called to the priesthood, I declare before God and man that
I refuse to preach dogmas in which I do not believe. Truth is an attribute of God, and I
wish in all things to be blameless before Him. This one thing I will not dissimulate. I
feel that I have a good deal of inclination for amusements. Even as a child, I was charged
with a mania for arms and horses. I shall be grieved, indeed greatly shall I suffer at
seeing my beloved dogs deprived of their hunting, and my bow eaten up by worms.
Nevertheless I shall resign myself to this, if it is the will of God. Again, I hate all
care; nevertheless, whatever it costs, I will endure lawsuits and quarrels, so long as I
can fulfill this mission, heavy though it be., according to God's will; but never will I
consent to conceal my beliefs, nor shall my opinions be at war with my tongue. I believe
that I am pleasing God in thinking and speaking thus. I do not wish to give any one the
opportunity of saying that I, an unknown man, grasped Theophilus, knowing the situation
and giving me clear evidence that he understands it, decide on this issue concerning me.
He will then either leave me by myself to lead my own life, to philosophize, or he will
not leave himself any ground on which hereafter to sit in judgement over me, and to turn
me out of the ranks of the priesthood. In comparison with these truths, every opinion is
insignificant, for I know well that Truth is dearest to God. I sear it by your sacred
head, nay, better still, I swear by God the guardian of Truth, that I suffer. How can I
fail to suffer, when I must, as it were, remove from one life to another? But if after
those things have been made clear which I least desire to conceal, if the man who holds
this power from Heaven persists in putting me in the hierarchy of bishops, I will submit
to the inevitable, and I will accept the token as divine. For I reason thus, that if the
emperor or some ill-fated Augustal had given an order, I should have been punished if I
disobeyed, but the one must obey God with a willing heart. But even at the expense of
God's not admitting me to his service, I must nevertheless place first my love for Truth,
the most divine thing of all. And I must not slip into His service through ways opposed to
it-- such as falsehood. See then that the scholastici know well me sentiments, and that
they inform Theophilus.