To Domnion

Your letter sounds like love and reproach at the same time. Love belongs to you; thanks to it you fear for us even that which is not dangerous; reproaches belong to those who do not love and, seeking an opportunity to sin, slander their brother and their mother's son and set a stumbling block (Psalm 49:20). You write that a monk wandering and shouting in the streets, at crossroads, at the crossroads, at the crossroads, a hook-maker, cunning only to deprive someone of another's honor, trying to extract a twig from the eye of his neighbor with the beam of his own eye—you write that this monk is floundering against me, and with a dog's tooth biting, tearing, crushing the books I have written against Jovinian. You write that this dialectician of your city and the adornment of the Plautus family has not read Aristotle's Categories, nor On Interpretation, nor the Analyst, nor even Cicero's Rhetoric, but among the uneducated and at feasts with women he weaves senseless syllogisms and seems to unravel our sophisms by cunning arguments. So foolish am I, that I did not hope to know all the above without the help of philosophers, and I preferred the end of the style by which what was written to be erased, to the end by which it was written. In vain also did I review Alexander's comments; in vain did the learned instructor introduce me to logic through Porphyry; and, to say nothing of human knowledge, I had Gregory of Nazianzus and Didymus as my catechists in the Holy Scriptures; it was useless for me to become acquainted with the Hebrew language and to study the law, the prophets, the Gospel and the Apostle every day from my youth to the present age.

There has been found a man who is perfect without a teacher (a spirit-bearer and self-taught) who surpasses Tullius in eloquence, Aristotle in arguments, Plato in wisdom, Aristarchus in education, Chalcanter in many writings, Didymus and all the scholars of our time in knowledge of the holy books. He needs only a subject for reasoning, and, like Carneades, he can reason both ways, that is, both in favor of the truth and against the truth. The world was saved from danger, and hereditary or judicial disputes were saved from the abyss because this man, having left the square, found himself in the bosom of the Church. Who can be innocent when he does not want to? And what criminal will not be saved by his speech when he begins to lay out the case on his fingers and stretch the web of his syllogisms? He has only to kick, fix his eyes, wrinkle his brow, shake his hand, stroke his beard — by this alone he will throw a fog before the eyes of the judges. Why should I be surprised if I, who had long been absent and without practice in the Latin language, had become half Greek and barbarian, was overcome by this man, the wittiest and strongest in Latin? Jovinian was also overwhelmed by the mass of his eloquence, although he was not absent. (Good Jesus! What a man this Jovinian is! His works can only be understood by one who sings exclusively for himself and for the Muses.) Please, most dear father, persuade this monk not to speak contrary to his podvig, so that, promising chastity with his clothes, he does not undermine it with words; so that, being a virgin or an abstinent (he knows this), he would not equate married men with virgins, and not argue in vain for so long with a most eloquent husband. I hear, moreover, that this monk makes the rounds of the cells of widows and maidens and philosophizes among them about sacred subjects with an air of solemnity. What does he teach women in secret in their bedroom? Is it so that they know that it is all the same whether they are a virgin or a married woman, so that they do not waste their blossoming age, so that they eat and drink and go to the bath, take care of cleanliness and do not neglect ointments? Or, on the contrary, does it teach chastity, fasting and non-washing of the body? Of course, he teaches that which is full of virtue. So let him admit in society what he says at home. And if he teaches the same things at home as in society, then he should be removed from communication with maidens. I am amazed that a young man, a monk who is eloquent in his own opinion (from whose lips flow love speeches, whose graceful speech is sprinkled with comic salt and gaiety), is not ashamed to go round the houses of nobles, to exchange greetings with matrons, to turn our religion into a battle and the Christian faith into a verbal debate, and at the same time to take away the honor of his neighbor. If this young monk thinks I am mistaken, for we all sin much. Whoever does not sin in word is a perfect man (James 3:2), then he should have either rebuked me in writing, or asked me, as did the learned and glorious man Pammachius, to whom I answered as far as possible, and in a rather extensive letter explained what and in what sense I had said. Pammachius, at least, imitated your modesty, for you, too, having selected from my work those passages which seemed tempting to some, arranged them in order, with a request that I either correct or explain them, and did not consider me so mad that in the same book I would speak in favor of marriage. and against marriage.

Let my adversary spare himself, spare me, spare the name of the Christian. Let him know that his monasticism consists not in talking and pacing, but in silence and solitude. Let him read the words of Jeremiah: "It is good for a man when he bears the yoke in his youth; he sits alone and is silent, for He has laid it on him (Lamentations 3:27-28). And if my adversary has taken the censor's rod over all writers, and thinks himself a scholar because he has understood Jovinian (according to the proverb: it is better for the tongue-tied to understand the words of the tongue-tied), then, according to the judgment of Attilius, we confess: you write everything. Even Jovinian himself, who writes illiterately, will quite justly say the following: "If I am condemned by the bishops, it is not lawful; I do not want this or that person to speak against me, who can suppress me with his authority, but cannot bring me to reason. Let my husband, whose language I understand, write against me; If I defeat him, I will win over all of them at once. I know very well (believe my experience) "what he is like when he rises on his shield, with what swiftness he throws a spear" (Aeneid, 10). He is brave, affectionate and stubborn in arguments, and his head is full of cunning schemes. Often from night to evening he shouted against us in the streets; And he has the sides and strength of an athlete, and his body is graceful and strong. He seems to be secretly a follower of my teachings. In addition, he never blushes, does not reflect on what he says and how much he says, and has acquired such a fame of eloquence that his words are repeated by shaggy people. How many times in society did he force me to overeat and bring me to cholera? How many times did he spit and leave spat upon? But these are all simple things that any of my followers can do. I invite my opponent to write books — to leave a memory for posterity. Let us converse in writing, and let the silent reader judge of us; as I lead a crowd of disciples, so let the Gnaphonics or the Formionics be called by the name of my opponent."

It is of no importance, my dear Domnion, to talk in the corners and in the dwellings of charlatans and to say unfoundedly: "This one has said well, and this one has said evil; this one knows the Scriptures, and this one is delirious; the one is eloquent, and this one is completely wordless." Who judges all those by whose sentence he has earned that right? Only jesters and people who are always ready for strife tend to rattle against someone everywhere at the crossroads and collect curses, not incriminating points. Let my adversary reach out, take up the style, trouble himself, and put what he can into writing. Let him give us an opportunity to respond to his eloquence. I know how to bite myself, if I want, I can hurt myself. And we learned to read and write: "And we often put our hands under the ferula" (Juvenal). And of us it may be said, "He has hay on his horns; run on" (Horace). But I rather want to be a disciple of Him Who said: I have given My back to them that smite, and My cheeks to them that smite; He did not hide My face from mockery and spitting (Isaiah 50:6); Being reviled, He did not reproach each other (1 Pet. 2:23), and after being scolded, crossed, scourged, and cursed, in conclusion He prayed for those who crucified, saying: Father, forgive them! Forgive them, for they know not what they do (Luke 23:34). And I forgive the erring brother: I know that he has been deceived by the cunning of the devil. In the circle of women, he seemed to himself learned and eloquent. When my works reached Rome, he was afraid to meet in me a rival, and cut short my spreading fame, so that there would be no one on earth who was pleasing to his eloquence, except those whose power he did not spare but yielded, whom he did not respect, but feared. The experienced man wanted, like an old soldier, to strike down both fighters with one blow of the sword and show the people that the Scriptures had exactly the meaning he wanted. Let him deign to send us his speech, and not by reproach, but by admonition, to correct our chattering. Then he will understand that the square is one thing, and the study is another, it is another thing to discuss the dogmas of the Divine law among the spindles and baskets of maidens, and another thing among learned men. Now he freely and shamelessly declares to the people about me that I condemn marriages, and speaks strongly against me, and, in the midst of pregnant women, the cries of babies and wedding beds, he is silent about what the Apostle says, only to arouse hatred towards me. And when he begins to write, bumps into me, and either offers something of the Scriptures himself, or listens to what I have to offer, then he will sweat, then he will think it over. Epicurus away, Aristippus farther away, the swineherds will not come, the pig will not grunt.

And we, father, do not sword with a weak hand Arrows and iron, and from our wound Blood flows. Aeneid, 12

If my adversary does not want to write, but thinks to get away with only curses, then let him at least hear the echo of my voice from so many lands, rivers, and peoples that divide us: "I do not condemn marriage, I do not condemn marriage." And in order that my adversary may hold my thought more firmly, I will add: I want all those who, perhaps, for fear of the night, cannot sleep alone, to enter into marriage.

To Nepotianus. On the Way of Life of Clergy and Monks

My dear Nepotianus, in your letters coming from across the sea, you ask me, and often ask, to briefly set forth to you the rules of life, how one should walk the right path of Christ, without being carried away by various vicious enticements, who, having left the service of this world, has become either a monk or a cleric. When I was still a youth, one might say almost a youth, and in the midst of the harsh desert I curbed the first impulses of the age of passion, then I wrote a letter of admonition to your grandfather St. Heliodorus, full of tears and complaints, so that he could see the agitated state of the soul of his comrade who had remained in solitude. But in that letter, in my youth, I did not express myself with the proper seriousness, the rhetoric was fresh in my memory, and I embellished some of it with scholastic flowers. And now my head is already white, my face is streaked with wrinkles, my chin is drooping like that of bulls, and "cold blood is already flowing around my atria" (Virgil. Georgiki, 22); and in another place the same poet said: "Everything takes away time, even cheerfulness takes away." And a little later: "Now I have forgotten so many songs, and even the voice of Maerin leaves me" (Virgil. "Bucolics", 8).

But so that it does not seem that I am giving testimonies only from pagan literature, learn the mysteries of the Divine books. David, once a warlike man, having reached the age of 70, could not warm himself from the coldness of old age. In all the borders of Israel, they are looking for the virgin Abishag Shunammite, so that she would sleep with the king and warm the body of the old man (see 1 Kings ch. 1). If you look only at the dead letter, will it not seem to you that it is either a buffoon's invention or an Attelan comedy? The stiffened old man wraps himself in clothes and can only warm himself in the arms of a girl. Bathsheba was still alive, and Abigail and the other wives of David and the concubines mentioned in the Scriptures were still alive. All are rejected as cold; In the arms of the maiden alone, the old man warms up. Abraham was much older than David, and yet he did not seek another wife during Sarah's lifetime. Isaac was twice David's age and never got cold with his old Rebekah. Not to mention the ancient antediluvian men, who lived 900 years and, having not only senile, but almost already decaying limbs, did not seek the embrace of maidens. And Moses, the leader of the people of Israel, having lived 120 years, did not exchange Zipporah for another.

Who is this Shunammite woman, a woman and maiden so ardent that she warmed the cold, so holy that she did not arouse lust in the one who was warmed? Let the wisest Solomon explain to us the pleasures of his father, let the man of peace tell us about the embrace of a warrior. Acquire wisdom, acquire understanding; do not forget this, and do not shrink from the words of my mouth. Do not leave her, and she will keep you; love her, and she will protect you. The main thing is wisdom: acquire wisdom, and with all your possessions acquire understanding. Esteem her highly, and she will exalt you; she will glorify you if you cling to her; He will put a beautiful wreath on your head, He will bring you a magnificent crown. (Proverbs 4:5-9).

All bodily virtues betray the elderly: only wisdom increases, everything else weakens; fasting, vigilance, almsgiving, lying on the ground, traveling, receiving strangers, protecting the poor, constancy in prayer, tirelessness, visiting the sick, handicrafts for giving alms — in short, everything that is done with the help of the body, with the weakening of the body, decreases.

And the old age of those people who have spent their youth in honest studies and have studied day and night in the law of the Lord, the old age of such people is more learned in gatherings, more experienced in life, wiser in the course of time, and produces the sweetest fruits of the teachings of old age. That is why the Greek sage Themistocles, they say, when, having lived 107 years, he noticed the approach of death, said that he was sorry to part with his life at a time when he had just begun to be intelligent. Plato died at the age of 81, engaged in literature. And Socrates spent 99 years in scientific and literary works. Not to mention the other philosophers: Pythagoras, Democritus, Xenocrates, Zeno, and Cleanthes, who were already famous for their wisdom in their old age. I appeal to the poets – Homer, Hesiod, Simonides, Stesichorus, who in extreme old age and at the approach of death sang their swan song, surpassing themselves. Sophocles, when he was accused of madness by his own sons because of his extreme old age and negligence about domestic affairs, he read before the judges the tragedy "Oedipus" which he had just written, and presented such a brilliant proof of wisdom in his decrepit age, that the tribunal of strict judges turned into a theater of applause. It is not surprising that Cato, a former censor, a most eloquent Roman, was not ashamed to learn Greek in his old age and did not despair of success. It is not without reason that Homer also says that from the tongue of Nestor, the old man was already decrepit, speech flowed sweeter than honey. The mystery of the very name (of the maiden of David) Abisag – means the breadth of the wisdom of the elders. For the word Abisag means "my father is abundant" or "my father's cry." The verb superfluo (to excess, to be superfluous) has a double meaning; here it is taken in the best sense and means virtue, which multiplies in the elders their abundant and fruitful wisdom. And sometimes the word superfluous means as if unnecessary. If we take Abisag in the second sense, then the word rugitus (wail) means the actual sound of the waves of the sea and, so to speak, a shudder coming from the sea. This means that in the elders dwells the mighty thunder of Divine speech, which surpasses the human voice. And the word Shunammite in our language means purple, scarlet; this signifies both the warmth of wisdom and the burning in the Divine reading: both the Mystery of the Lord's Blood and the heat of wisdom are indicated. For this reason, in the Book of Genesis (38:27-30), the grandmother imposed purple on the hand of Perez, who, from dividing the barrier that separated the two peoples beforehand, received the name of Phares, that is, the separator. And the prostitute Rahab, in the image of the Church, dangled through the window a thread containing the mystery of blood, so that at the destruction of Jericho her house would be saved. That is why in another place the Scriptures speak of holy men thus: These are the essence... who came out of warmth to the house of Father Richab (1 Chron. 2:55). And our Lord says in the Gospel: I have come to bring fire down upon the earth, and how I would that it had already been kindled! (Luke 12:49). This fire, kindled in the hearts of the disciples, and impelled them to say: Did not our hearts burn within us when He spoke to us on the way, and when He explained the Scriptures to us? (Luke 24:32).