To Some Priests and Monks in Phœnicia, Who Were Instructing Heathens. (From Kucusus, A.D. 405. CXXIII., T. Iii., P. 663.)
Pilots, when they see the ocean stirred up from its depths, and a heavy storm and disturbance, not only do not desert the vessel, but show greater industry and more willingness by watching themselves and rousing the others. And physicians, too, when they see that the fever is active and very high, not only do not leave the sick man to himself, but then especially do all they can, and show a greater diligence and readiness both through others and through themselves so as to overcome the disease. Why do I say this? That no one of you through the disturbance which has taken place should desire to leave Phœnicia and to come here for quiet. The more the trials, the angrier the waves, the heavier the trouble, the greater the reason for your staying in readiness, and watchfulness, and diligence, showing forth more eagerness, so that your fine house may not fall, nor your labour be in vain, nor the fruits of your agriculture disappear. For God is able to quell the disturbance and to reward your patience. When things run smoothly our reward is not so great as it is for you now when there is much difficulty, great agitation, and when many are scandalised. Considering, therefore, the work done, and the labour surmounted, and the good works which you have accomplished, and that by the grace of God you have conquered impiety to a certain extent, that things in Phœnicia had come to improve, that your reward and crown are now greater, that God will remove obstacles before long and give you many compensations for your patience, stand fast and endure. Even now you should not want for anything, but it was my command that you should have the same plenty and abundance, whether in clothes, or shoes, or food, as the brethren. If I, who am in so much tribulation and affliction in a solitude of Kucusus, take your good deeds so much to heart, how much should you, who are enjoying great plenty, do your part, as far as necessity allows you. I repeat, then, let no one frighten you, for things gave good promise, and this you may ascertain from the answers sent by his Reverence the priest Constantine. If you remain, be there a thousand obstacles, you will overcome them all. There is nothing equal to patience and endurance; it is like a rock. In truth, those disturbances and plottings against Churches are like waves beating against a rock, dissolving in their own foam. Consider what the blessed Apostles suffered, both from their own people and from strangers; how during all their time of preaching they passed through temptations, and dangers, and plottings, and were consumed by prisons, and chains, and stripes, and hunger, and nakedness. Still, dwelling in those very prisons, they did not relinquish the stewardship entrusted to them. Blessed Paul, in his prison, scourged, covered with blood, fastened to the wood, in the midst of all this suffering, gave instruction, baptised his jailor, and left nothing unturned. Pondering on all this, according to my counsel, stand bravely and without flinching, with your hope on God and on His help, which is before everything, and be careful to let me have a detailed answer. On this account I have sent the priest John, that he may quiet your minds, and not suffer you to be disturbed by anyone. I have done my part, encouraging you by words, exhorting you by advice, and offering you plenty of necessaries, so that you may want for nothing.
To Studius, the Prefect of the City, on the Death of his Brother.
(From Kucusus, A.D. 404. Benedictine Edition, cxcvii., t. iii., p. 710.)
I know that you have understanding and can reason, and that before my letter reaches you you will have heard in meekness of your happy brother’s departure, for I would not call it death. Now, since we, too, must do our part, I invite you, my most honoured Lord, to show yourself as you are at this time; not that you should not grieve, for this is impossible, being a man clothed in flesh and looking in vain for such a brother, but that you should restrain your sorrow. You know the perishableness of human things, how worldly business is like flowing rivers, and how we should call blessed only those who depart this life with good hope. They go not to death, but from combat to rewards, from wrestlings to crowns, from a storm-tossed sea to a calm harbour. Pondering on these things, be consoled, since my own grief is not small, and we have a sovereign consolation in it—his goodness, which, I think, must offer you true solace. If the departed had been bad and full of evil, we ought to weep and mourn for him; but being what he was, after a life of mildness and goodness, as all the city knew it to be, fearing what was just, showing a fitting courage, independence, and fortitude, despising present things, a stranger to worldly cares, we should rejoice with him and with you that you have sent before you this brother, who may place the treasure which was his on his departure in a sure and safe place. Do not, then, my most honoured Lord, have any thoughts unworthy of yourself, or be broken by grief, but show now what you are, and let me see for my comfort that even my letter has done something for you. So, at our great distance from each other, I shall be proud to have overcome much of your sadness by a mere letter.