Learn, monastic, faithful man and worker of piety; Learn the life of the Gospel, the enslavement of the body, a humble way of thinking, purity of thought, the eradication of anger in yourself. Thou who is subject to rebuke, add for the Lord's sake; deprived of it, do not sue; hated, love; persecuted, endure; blasphemy, pray. Be dead to sin, crucify yourself to God. Entrust all your care to the Lord, that you may have a place for yourself where there are thousands of angels, the triumphs of the firstborn, the thrones of the apostles, the presidency of the prophets, the sceptres of the patriarchs, the crowns of martyrs, the praises of the righteous. Desire to be numbered among these righteous men, in Christ Jesus our Lord. To Him be the glory forever and ever. Amen.

41 (44). To the fallen monk

(Depicting to the fallen monk first the gravity of sin, then God's mercy, he invites him to her)

I do not greet you with the word "rejoice," because "there is no joy in the wicked" (Isaiah 48:22). I still remain in my unbelief, and such incongruity and great plan fulfilled by you do not come into my heart, although this is the real truth, as everyone already knows. I wonder how so much wisdom has been absorbed, how such austerity of life has been reduced to nothing, whence such blindness has flowed, how, without thinking of anything at all, thou hast brought about such a ruin of so many souls.

For if this is true, then thou hast given thy soul over to the abyss, and hast brought to paralytic all who have heard this wickedness. You have rejected the faith, you have left the good fight unfinished. Therefore, I grieve for you. And what priest will not weep when he hears this? What servant of the Church will not be saddened? What layman does not complain? What ascetic does not shed tears? Probably, the sun was eclipsed at your fall, and the Powers of Heaven wavered at your destruction. And the senseless stones shed tears for your folly, and your enemies felt pity for the excessiveness of your iniquity. What a great blindness! What terrible cruelty! Thou didst not fear God, nor did thou respect men, nor were thou ashamed of thy friends; but all of a sudden you have been ruined, you have suddenly become deprived of everything. Therefore, I grieve for you again, wretched one. You, who proclaimed the power of the Kingdom to all, have deprived yourself of the Kingdom. You, who inspired the fear of teaching in everyone, yourself did not have the fear of God in your eyes. You, who preached holy things, turned out to be abominable. You, who boasted of your lack of acquisitiveness, are yourself convicted of stealing money. You, who by your reasoning suggested the idea of punishment from God, prepared for yourself the punishment. How shall I pay you? How shall I grieve for you? "How did the dawn of the morning dawn fall, and was crushed on the earth?" (cf. Isaiah 14:12). "To everyone who hears there will be a noise in both ears" (1 Samuel 3:11). How did the Nazarene, who shone more than gold, become blacker than soot? How did the honorable son of Zion become a vessel of no use? In whom everyone marveled at the remembrance of the Divine Scriptures, his memory perished with a noise! The mind that was distinguished by its swiftness perished so instantly! A man with a vast mind committed such a complex sin! Those who used your teaching have suffered harm from your destruction. Those who inclined their ears to thy conversation have barred their ears when they hear of thy destruction. And I weep, lament, I am all exhausted; I eat ashes like bread, and, throwing sackcloth over my wound, I compose such praises to you, or rather, composing a funeral oration, I remain inconsolable and unhealed, because the consolation is hidden from my eyes: "There is no plaster to apply, lower than oil, lower than obligation" (Isaiah 1:6), so painful is my wound! How can I be healed?

Therefore, if there is still any hope of salvation in you, if there is in you any small remembrance of God, and any desire for future blessings, and whatever fear of punishment observed by the impenitent, then sober up quickly, lift up your eyes to heaven, come to your senses, abandon your wickedness, shake off the drunkenness in which you are now, resist him who has brought you to the fall. Strengthen yourself to get up from the ground.

Remember the Good Shepherd, Who, coming after you, will take you away, even if there are only "two legs, or ears of the ear" (Amos 3:12). Jump away from the one who wounded you. Remember the mercies of God, Who heals with oil and wine. Do not lose hope of salvation. Bring to mind what is written that "he who falls rises and turns away" (cf. Jeremiah 8:4), that he who is stricken is healed, that he who is caught by beasts is saved, that he who confesses is not rejected, because the Lord "does not desire the death of the sinner, but that he should be converted and live" (cf. Ezek. 18:32). Do not give yourself over to negligence, as one who has fallen "into the depths of evil" (Proverbs 18:3). Now is the time of reprieve, the time of long-suffering, the time of healing, the time of correction. Have you crawled? "Arise." Have you sinned? "Cease, do not stand in the way of sinners, but flee from it. When you are converted and arise, then you will be saved, because health is acquired by labor, salvation is later. Therefore, if you wish to keep the covenants with others, see to it that you do not break the covenants with God which you have made in the presence of many witnesses.

And so, do not hesitate, according to some human calculations, to come to me, because, having restored my dead man, I will weep, I will nurse, I will weep bitterly for the crushing of the daughter of my race. Everyone will receive you, everyone will work with you. Do not lose cheerfulness, remember the days of old. Salvation is possible, correction is possible. Go for it, don't despair. There is no law that condemns to death without mercy, but there is grace that postpones punishment and awaits correction. The doors are not yet locked, the Bridegroom hears, sin does not yet reign. Renew the struggle, do not delay, be merciful to yourself and to all of us in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory and dominion both now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

42 (45). To the fallen monk

(A certain man, having renounced a large possession, entered monasticism, but after a very pious life he fell into fornication and other iniquities. St. Basil, who once lived with him in Jerusalem, shows him the greatness of sin and temptation, then, reassuring him with God's mercy, calls him to podvig by the example of Jews and pagans who are led to piety)

The thought of you pierces the bowels of my heart with a twofold fear. Or some state of lack of compassion leads me to the guilt of hating people; or again, when I want to be compassionate and soften to misfortune, it produces an unkind change. Wherefore, intending to write this letter, though I have strengthened my numbing hand with the help of reason, yet I have not been able to change my face, which is troubled by sorrow for thee, and I am so ashamed of thee that my lips immediately clench to weep. Alas for me! What shall I write or discuss, left at the crossroads? If I recall to my memory your original vain behavior, when wealth surrounded you and this creeping glory on earth, then I am horrified. When you were accompanied by a multitude of flatterers, and the momentary pleasure of luxury with obvious danger and unrighteous gains; and on the one hand, the fear of your superiors scattered your thoughts of salvation, and on the other hand, the disturbances of the people threw your house into confusion, and the continuity of calamities involuntarily turned your thoughts to Him Who is able to help you; when little by little you began to think about the Saviour, Who both strikes you with fear of your own benefit, so He delivers and covers you, although you laugh at Him in time of safety; when you began to exercise yourself in the acquisition of honest morals, looking with contempt at your miserable wealth, renouncing the care of your home and cohabitation with your spouse; and having soared wholly on high, like a pilgrim and a wanderer, passing through villages and cities, I came to Jerusalem, where I also lived with you, delighting my ascetic labors; when, spending whole weeks in fasting for God, thou didst accustom thyself to wisdom, as if fleeing from the treatment of men, and at the same time adapting silence and solitude to thyself, avoiding social disturbances, covering thy body with coarse sackcloth, and tightening thy loins with a stiff girdle, thou didst patiently break thy bones: from the refusal to eat thou didst bring the empty intestines to such a thing, that they clung to the backbone parts, and though he renounced the gentle sling, yet his stomach, which shrank like a pumpkin, made him cling to his kidneys; and, having exhausted all the fat of the flesh, courageously drying up all the paths in the lower parts of the body, shutting up the womb by frequent sojourn without food, made the ribs, like a given roof, shade the surface of the womb, and with the exhaustion of the entire bodily composition, confessing to God in the hours of the night, softened the irrigated brada with streams of tears... And why should I describe all this in detail? Remember how many holy lips you have drawn to your kiss, how many sanctified bodies you have touched with your embraces, how many have clasped your hands as undefiled, how many servants of God have flowed to your knees as worshippers?

And what is the end of all this? Rumors accusing us of fornication, flying faster than arrows, pierce our ears, tearing our inward parts with an even sharper sting. What inexhaustible trick of the charmer has brought you to this fatal fall? What cunning snares of the devil, having entangled you, have made null and void the suggestions of virtue? What is the use of the stories of your labors now? Or should we not believe this either? And how can you not give faith to that which has been hidden for a time on the basis of what is apparently clear, if you have bound by terrible oaths the soul flowing to God, when everything that is greater than "it" and "neither" is directly attributed to the devil (cf. Matt. 5:37)? That is why you have subjected yourself to the responsibility of disastrous perjury, and at the same time you have humiliated the character of asceticism, you have brought dishonor to the Apostles and the Lord Himself, you have shamed the praise of purity, and you have ridiculed the vow of chastity. The subject of the sad tale was we for the captives; both Jews and Greeks represent us at the spectacles. In the thoughts of the monks you have made a division; He brought the stricter ones into fear and timidity, made them even more amazed at the power of the devil; and in the indifferent he instilled a passion for intemperance. You, for your part, have nullified even the praise of Christ, Who says: "Be of good cheer, I will overcome the world" (John 16:33) and the prince of peace. To the solution for the fatherland the cup of infamy; he fulfilled what was said in Proverbs: "As a deer is wounded by an arrow in the pit" (Proverbs 7:23) But what now, brother? The pillar of the fortress has not yet fallen, the healing of conversion has not been desecrated, the city of refuge has not been shut up. Do not remain in the depths of evil, do not give yourself over to a murderer. The Lord knows how to raise up the broken. Do not run far, but flow to us. Take upon thyself again the labors of youth; By new good deeds destroy in yourself the creeping and filthy love of voluptuousness. Lift up your gaze to the day of death, which has already drawn so close to our life, and understand that at last Jews and Gentiles are being brought to piety, and do not completely deny the Savior of the world. Let not this most terrible sentence befall you: "I do not know you whence I am" (Luke 13:27).