Letters 1 part 1/55

Of our holy father and confessor Theodore, hegoumenos of the Stoudites: a selection from his various letters, of the first and second exile. To Plato, his spiritual father. What shall we say to you, O our sweetest father, we who have been orphaned for God's sake from your holy heart? What gentle or joyful word shall we speak? For we shall not speak words of lament and grief, chafing at this seeming exile — which we have been taught by you not to reckon as exile at all, since we are sojourners of the whole earth — but to reckon as exile, and as a far casting-off, only the falling away from God through the transgression of any commandment of his whatsoever.

Wherefore indeed we rejoice and are glad, that though we are unworthy of heaven and earth, yet together with you, our holy father, we have been counted worthy to suffer these things for his commandment's sake, and to be deprived of your bodily presence;

for otherwise you are always with us, father, seen and conversed with by us.

For how else should we live, unless we were kept safe and unharmed from the evil one under the shelter of your holy prayers, each one of us separated and set apart alone? Yet we have all been kept safe, and preserved, and made firm.

And though we endured some little hardship on the road, some even falling ill, yet he who said, 'Look at the birds of heaven and the lilies of the field,' and who is truthful in his promises, brought us safely through beyond our hope, setting us down here, and inclining to compassion the hearts of the men present toward our hardship — most of all that of the archbishop.

One care, then, remains to us, and unceasing meditation with earnest and unworthy supplication: that you be strengthened, our much-longed-for father, and remain in the decrees of the confession made for the truth of God, unswerving and unmoved, in no way frightened or wavering at the attempts of those who assail you, seeking to overturn the contests for piety that have, by the grace of God, been built up in you;

for the report has resounded everywhere, and has put nearly every soul to shame, and has raised up a horn of salvation among Christians, and has removed reproach from the monastics.

And I know that everyone of sound mind would say that Christ lives in us and reigns, and is obeyed all the more, above the men whom he formed — not that he might be disobeyed, but that he might be glorified by them.

You know all things, then; you know what is needful; you have no need of our reminder;

yet you commanded beforehand that we should write in this way.

Therefore do not fear, father, man, or the afflictions of men.

You know that the saints, having reckoned these things a dream and a shadow, were made wonderful in heaven and on earth.

A little longer, I beg, let us labor; let us endure yet a little, and the good race will be finished for us;

and the crown has been woven, and the eternal reward is being prepared, and you will be called a friend of the heavenly King, and a partaker with the saints, and a confessor among men.

Yes, yes, I beg and beseech you, my fatherly heart, be a stronghold to us, an endurance, a steadfastness;

For if you, father, stand firm, we, your unprofitable children, are strengthened, we are made courageous, and we shall bear nobly whatever befalls us, by the power of God and your prayers;

for the permission comes from God, who thus in every way is well pleased in our affairs, and who himself gives the power.

Do not, then, be terrified, O father, at the artful contrivances of those who attempt to bend you away from the truth.

Whatever kind of man he may be who counsels contrary to what is set down in the divine Scripture, he speaks from his own heart and recounts the commandments of men;

and concerning such men, citing the apostle's words, it says that even if he is an angel from heaven, let him be anathema.

And where shall we assign the saying, 'My priests set aside my law, and profaned my holy things'? Which, being prophetic, the Theologian, having taken it up in his great Apologia, adds, speaking thus:

'They made no distinction between the profane and the holy, but all things were common to them.'

And how many other things could be said, if one wished to hear them! Let those, then, who pervert the truth of God with false words cease, and let them take heed to themselves.

For as for us, since the commandment is manifest, and threatens the eternal fire for its transgression, we will not yield to human fears or pains — no, by the contests fought for virtue! — but even if it is necessary to shed our blood, we will pour it out with joy, God strengthening us through your holy prayers.

Be courageous, then, you also, brother, my lord Euthymius;

let us not be separated from one another, my light and my heart, lest for the sake of a brief and transient comfort we lose the blessed life.

Do not take delight in present pleasures and grow weak before hardships, O brother; do not turn your back.

Christ, then, rejoiced, seeing you struck for his sake;

do not grieve him, my beloved, nor the angels who rejoiced greatly, nor our lord and father, nor our reverend mother who travails to bring us forth also by the Holy Spirit, nor all your brethren — especially me, whom you say you love as a gift.

We are three brothers according to the flesh; let it be so also according to the spirit.

Let us not dishonor the honorable and divinely-ordained number; let us give ourselves to suffer for God's commandment, that we may live forever.

We have great grief, father, also concerning our other dear brothers, as to how the Lord has disposed of them.

For this we pray, as sinners, that he himself may become their caretaker, their steward, their guide, presiding over their affairs as he knows, commands, and wills;

for indeed we shed bitter tears on their account, and their countenances are ever set before our eyes, as we entreat their prayer for the help of our sluggishness.

Nevertheless, pray, O father, for all of us: that we may obtain endurance, good fortune, protection from God and help against the temptations of the devil; and, whatever pleases God, concerning our seeing you or our brothers again in the flesh;

we beg, and make bold on our part to greet our dear brother, if indeed he is with you, or also any other brother of ours, whoever he may be, whom you happen to inform.

And together with me, the lord deacon and our father greets your holy soul, as does my good brother and your child, the steward, and the rest of our honorable and much-longed-for brothers.

Pray for us, father, fervently and unceasingly, as you bid us do;

for we have nothing else to say.

[To the same] I now write for the second time to my lord and father;

I do not know whether you received the letter.

In that letter, then, whatever the occasion demanded and was within our power, we spoke, though unworthily; and now too, whatever falls to hand and God grants for the benefit of my humble soul, or also — I dare say it — for the consolation of your magnanimity, O father, we shall address to you.

...your children (and that I speak the truth, the facts have shown it, on your behalf, the true shepherd, who has laid down his life for his own sheep), so that we might not turn aside anywhere from the truth, having chosen, indeed readily, even to pour out our own blood.

This, then, is the oversight of a true shepherd, which convicts those falsely named, and shows itself truly worthy before God the Father and the Chief Shepherd.

The things, then, that have been graciously given to me on your account, I offer back to you in some small measure;

and you are reaping, as a good farmer, from the seeds that were sown by you with much care and without stint, fruits which — I know not how to put it — are meager in what they bear.

What, then, shall I still say that is fitting and acceptable to your holy soul, my sweet father? Who has separated me from your ever-longed-for face, from your sweet-spoken company, from your salvation-working guidance? You are my light, the ever-shining lamp for the dark thoughts of my soul, the staff supporting the feebleness of my heart, the turning-away of despondency, the anointing of eagerness, glad tidings, joy, festival, glory.

Without you, even the sun is gloomy to me.

I would rather gaze upon your countenance than look upon the very air itself.

Nothing on earth was sweet to me when your company was absent.

For what is more desirable than a true father, especially one understood in relation to God? A child who loves his father, and is truly genuine, knows this.

What need is there of many words? Let me tell what I used to suffer:

that often, even when I had not set out with the intention of coming to your holy cell, imperceptibly, as though someone were drawing me, I would find myself coming into your presence — so that, when you often asked, 'Why have you come?', I would be at a loss how to answer, my salvation hanging so entirely upon you.

And who does not run toward the light? But I give thanks to God, through whom I was torn away from you by the hands of those who had trampled his law, and who had arisen from among men of like kind.

May the Lord my God not reckon the sin against them, but may he draw them to a recognition of their audacious deed, so that they may restore our father to us, and that they themselves may be found blameless in this matter.

They shut you up, as we have learned, in a small dwelling, but thereby they proclaimed you an inhabitant of heaven.

They kept guard, but did not perceive what they were doing;

for it was a treasure of the confession of God.

And from this they might come to know, if only they would see, that they have made you known to men as one of honor, as saving to the world, and as an object desired by many to behold.

You have received dishonors and insults together with Christ;

they scattered your sheep, because they struck you the shepherd, as they struck Christ.

And though it is bold to say so, yet it is his own voice: 'If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you,' and all the other sayings which bring the same experience of suffering to those who follow him;

for if indeed we suffer with him, as the great Paul says, it is that we may also be glorified together with him.

But to me, the prodigal and unworthy one, through your holy prayers, O righteous father, the merciful Lord has granted consolation, and to be with you in spirit;

for I am always as one seeing you, and as one conversing with you, and as one receiving your prayer, and as one being sheltered, and as one giving and receiving words for the establishment of the confession which you have confessed.

And I seem to hear your voice speaking, and to hear these words:

'Humble Theodore, we indeed suffer but a little, since God brings a good hope.'

These things are my consolation, these my refreshment.

Do not be afraid, father, on account of me, your servant, altogether cast away;

for indeed I am a defilement of heaven and earth, and colder in devotion than every man.

Yet I dare to say, unworthy as I am, that I am full of hope, looking upward, strengthened by your intercession, not disapproving of what I have suffered, but rather blaming myself that I did not suffer manfully and reasonably, and that what I have undergone is little and worth nothing when compared to the life-giving sufferings of the saints.

For I have had occasion to read of many martyrdoms, recorded in twelve books, so that my heart was struck, and I do not even dare to say that I have suffered anything for Christ's sake.

And what is sweeter, father — I remind you as a servant — than to suffer for his sake? Look upward, father, behold the Lord, contemplate the angelic hosts before the Godhead, gaze intently upon the sacred choirs.

He will proclaim you a faithful servant and keeper of his commandments, and, what is greater, a confessor.

Then where will he send you? Not into the eternal fire, which receives those who are disobedient to his law, but into the place that receives the living, and immortal rest, and boundless, joyous, godly gladness.

'Enter,' he says, 'into the joy of your lord.'

The eyes of us all look toward you; we all take courage, since you stand firm.

May the help of God be with you all the more, fortifying you, empowering you, strengthening you, making you manly and brave.

You who fear God, do not fear what man has done to you, or perhaps may yet do.

You have trusted in the Lord; you are Mount Zion; you shall never be shaken.

For you have as your indweller the architect and maker of the Jerusalem above.

Flee the venomous, deceit-willed voices of those who, like serpents, steal upon you and wish to lead you away from the life-giving tree of truth; and give heed, once you have been made strong in the truth and bound fast by the many testimonies of holy Scripture — and sometimes also of pious men — unto utter immovability, so that you too may win the praise of that saying:

'He who does these things shall never be shaken.'

All the brothers are well: my lord the deacon, my father, my sweet brother — who is now, all the more deservedly, longed for — and the rest, my beloved and honored ones, who are your children; pray, father, for all of them together with me.

They are all faring well; the only thing they long for is your health in the Lord, and whatever they suffer they bear easily.

Of course we also grieve and are distressed and vexed and grow listless, and we are troubled by evil thoughts (for it is impossible to pass through the afflictions of this life untouched), but through your hope and your prayer we grow strong.

But pray for me, father, for I am learning the holy Isaiah by heart; and let me know whether you wish me to read rather than to write.

{To the Same} The tears well up before the words come, my heart trembles, my hand shakes as I write, I am pulled in every direction, and I am unable to bear the pain.

O, how shall I bear, father, father, your Christ-imitating sufferings? O, how shall I bear your lofty and holy humility? How shall I meet you by replying in a fitting manner? And where shall I turn, and from where shall I find a beginning for my letter? Do you then, O father, write such things to me? To me, a worm and mire and prodigal, does the father send words befitting a son? Do you, who ought to be entreated, take on the posture of a suppliant? What then shall I, wretched as I am, say in reply? And how shall I humble myself before my righteous father? Yet I received your holy letter, O father, in unworthy hands, as though it were tablets written by God.

I heard your written voice, as if one were hearing the voice of an angel or an apostle, and it crushed my heart, and tears burst forth, and I wept and lamented — not a lamentation of Jeremiah over sufferings brought on by those who hate God, but a certain sweet and loving lament for a father, and one truly of thanksgiving to God.

For truly the things you have written, righteous father, are worthy of praise, worthy of being recorded, and manifest tokens of your wholehearted devotion to God.

Therefore, O father, you have strengthened our resolve, you have given sinew to our hearts;

Your courage exceeds all hope, your boldness exceeds all expectation.

You appeared to us as someone other than the one we knew, wholly transformed in God;

Fear of the imperial power did not cast you down, nor did seductive flattery soften you;

you did not choose to enjoy a passing pleasure, preferring instead to risk yourself for the truth of God.

the good shepherd, who laid down his soul for the sheep, who is now also a prisoner in confinement, like an apostle of Christ.

O that chamber, in which you are carried and led about, as a precious and useful vessel for the Master, God!

I embraced that ground on which the feet of my lord and father walk;

Would that I might venerate the keys and bolts set against you, as guarding a treasure of piety!

But rather I wished to kiss that precious mouth which confessed the word of truth, and those holy hands lifted up in prayers holy and well-pleasing to God.

Where has that sweet face of mine now flown away? Where has that saving voice fallen silent? Behold, I am a pitiable orphan and utterly desolate, having no father, having no shining light of mine — the physician and nourisher of my humble soul — unprotected, undefended against those who war against me invisibly.

I have become like a raven in the wilderness, like a sparrow alone upon the housetop, straining my eyes each day, looking here and there and gazing all around, and nowhere is the face I long for;

and I still cannot adequately give tragic voice to my suffering.

Yet I give thanks, and give thanks exceedingly, that for the sake of God's law I have been deemed worthy of these things, that I have been made a son of such a father.

Perhaps I may even think myself a king today because of you, holy father, if only your prayer would keep me safe;

for I fear my own sin and profligacy.

But know for certain that by your holy prayers I am strengthened and made steadfast, even though I am very easily overcome;

and not I alone, but all of us are one, united in mind and soul with you, choosing to suffer together even unto death; and do not be afraid at all on our account.

Well done, O father, well done! Well done, O excellent helmsman, zealot of piety, imitator of the saints!

You have truly contended magnificently, you have striven vigorously and youthfully; I know that your spirit is with the martyrs.

Such, then, is the state of these things, even though it does not yet fully match my desire, nor your worth, as it ought.

But since you bid me to relate to you, word for word, from the day on which we underwent that painful separation, the journey and what happened to us along the way, I am not equal to the task, yet I shall carry out what has been commanded me most willingly.

On that very day, then, on which you, O father, set out by your own choice upon the road toward death, we too set forth on the journey into exile, mounted upon whatever animals were at hand.

And being untried at the beginning of such an ordeal, we were somewhat in despondency;

for we came upon certain villages, being made a spectacle before people of every appearance and age;

and our ears rang on both sides with tumult and shouting, both when setting out and when stopping, while those leading us procured the necessary provisions.

But as we went further on, having grown accustomed to it, we bore the hardships more easily.

What distressed us more was the illness of the father, my lord the deacon.

And thus, grieving and overwhelmed as by a flood, we made our way through the journey.

From Kathara to Libiana, then to Leukai, and thence to Phyraion.

There something both painful and worthy of note happened to us:

for, appearing suddenly from a distance, nine of the leading brothers, like scattered sheep, gathered around us weeping and breaking our hearts;

and the one leading us would not even allow us to speak with them; but looking upon each other pitiably, seeing and being seen, and uttering a few last words to one another, we finally parted with tears.

Then, having put in at Paula, we found your much-longed-for sister together with the lord Sabas, meeting secretly and remaining together the whole night;

having spoken what was fitting and embraced one another as those condemned to death, we parted, groaning and lamenting.

One could see there hearts torn and convulsed with anguish, as nature was overcome — in a manner befitting God.

From there we rested at Loupadion, being treated with kindly compassion by our host, and we made use of a bath because of our bruises (for some of these, from the journey, had become difficult to heal), and we put in at Tilis;

There Abba Zacharias, together with Pionios, caught up with us, weeping out of fervent devotion and wishing to journey with us, although they were not permitted.

[We came] to Parion, being in communion with the bishops there, yet also, with humility, admonishing those who had taken oaths.

Then to Horkos, and from there to Lampsakos;

where, finding some men of Herakleia, we rested for three days, being unable to sail.

Then, setting sail, we put in at Abydos, and were shown pious mercy by the governor there;

and having stayed there eight days until the Sabbath, we sailed off to Eleous, and having remained there a week's time because of the impossibility of sailing, when a favorable wind blew we sped to Lemnos within nine hours.

Here my account is arrested by the piety of the bishop of this place;

for as no other could have done, he received us, consoled us, and provided us with supplies.

Sailing, then, from this place in fear because of the neighboring nation, we crossed over, with a rushing north wind blowing, in twelve hours, a sea of a hundred and fifty miles, anchoring at Kanastron, within the borders of Thessalonica; then to Pallene, the coastal parts of the gulf; then to Embolos.

From there, having mounted animals again, on the Sabbath day, the feast of the Annunciation, at the third hour, we were brought into the city.

for it is necessary not to pass over this either.

For one of the eminent men, sent ahead by the prefect, was waiting with soldiers at the eastern gate, and when we arrived they met us standing upright in silence;

And after we had entered, they closed the gates and led us through the marketplace, parading us before the eyes of those who had run together to see it, and having led us away they brought us in to the ruler.

For after we had fallen down, he showed us a kindly countenance and spoke gracious words to us, and sent us on to the archbishop, once we had first prayed in Hagia Sophia.

And in the oratory beside him, once he had made his prayer, the most holy one received us and warmly embraced us, speaking to us as was fitting, and immediately kept us there and refreshed us with both a bath and food.

On Monday, early in the morning, they took us away, and having granted our request to pray at Saint Demetrius, they separated us all from one another, after we had already prayed together and embraced one another.

And leading the two of us brothers up to the place where I now am, they tore us apart, after we had kissed one another with streaming tears, so that even some of the onlookers were stirred with compassion.

Thus stands our situation, O father;

and now I, the humble one, am here, dragging out a painful and much-groaning life.

But the blessings from your holy hand we have received, as possessing the power of the Holy Trinity;

and we keep them as an amulet of protection, setting them before our eyes, as though kissing your right hand.

Again tears, again my inward parts are churned;

for I wish to bring this discourse to a close.

O father, why have you forsaken me? But you have not forsaken me.

How then have you gone far from me? But you are in me.

Where then shall I still be able to see you? How shall I behold you? Where shall I hear your sweetest and saving voice? When shall I become your table-companion? Where shall I enjoy your holy fellowship, or ever again read the Scriptures in your hearing, or sing before your face, or be corrected by you, or be rebuked, or be remembered by you — forming with you that dear, familiar habit of feasting together, eating, drinking, conversing, standing, sitting, and reclining together?

What has befallen me? I call men to witness, I call also the heavenly powers to be my advocates, that it was the law of God, one eternal commandment, that separated you from me.

For this reason I rejoice and utter a voice of praise to God; I have received all things in overflowing abundance; I exult; I shall be orphaned no longer; I shall not lament, nor shall I utter anything unworthy.

May you also receive the words above, father, as devout offerings;

for they are tokens of my longing for you — though indeed I shall still weep — yet acceptable tokens nonetheless.

But you, O thrice-blessed father, rejoice and be glad.

The prizes have been woven for you; the place of rest has been prepared.

Your zeal matches that of your fathers; your imprisonment cries out the truth.

The righteous one has been bound as though he were troublesome; the pious in their devotion are grateful for it, those who share his zeal grow more fervent, having beheld so excellent a prelude.

They are buffeted by their own thoughts, and have their own conscience as a bitter accuser.

For even enemies know how to admire a man's virtue, as the great Gregory says, once anger has subsided and the deed is tested purely on its own merits.

Angels sing your praise, men call you blessed, Christ has received you, he has opened for you the gates of the kingdom of heaven forever.

{To Nikephoros, Abbot} When the reply had been given to us by the lord deacon, my true and much-longed-for nephew, we wished at once to write to you.

But since it was a wintry season, and second thoughts restrained me, I judged it good not to give an answer too quickly.

But when, together with the question, they also demanded a written reply, why should I still hesitate over this very matter, and not simply say what presents itself to me? First I will say this, and may you accept it from me, most honored one: as you yourself also know, I have set forth my own life to many as an example of much wickedness;

and there is hardly a fault one could name in which I myself have not had a share, and which I have not also passed on to others.

But since I learn of the love of God for mankind, and that he raises up even the one who has been brought down to the very depths of wickedness and stretches out a hand toward repentance, I fled from despair and resolved to support myself a little toward what is right.

For this reason, as God who knows hidden things is aware, I cut myself off both from the company of my kinsfolk and from the customary intimacy of my friends according to the flesh, and from anything else whatsoever, with only the power of God assisting my weakness in all things.

And now, what you sought to learn from me, the unlearned one, stands as the lord deacon has told you.

This we did not pronounce or maintain without due judgment, but having been confirmed and strengthened through the searching and joint examination of the God-inspired Scripture, and moreover also through inquiry of those from whom we ought to inquire.

And indeed the truth stands thus: the divine law openly forbids it, not through the divine Paul alone, but also through other theologian fathers, who clarify this very point, make it plain, and declare their agreement with the apostolic injunction.

How then shall I unreasonably be indifferent, and not rather set myself apart and withdraw from the things that harm my wretched soul, whatever danger may attend it, seeing that the foremost of the Fathers cries out and says that if anything is contrary to a commandment, or does injury to the commandment, it must in no way be tolerated, even if it holds out the promise of life or the threat of death? I forbear to mention how many other testimonies exist besides, which do not permit us to be led away even in the very smallest matter outside the commandment — especially since we hold also, once again, the injunction of the Great Basil, that all things handed down by the Lord through the Gospel and the Apostles must be kept without any omission.

These things I have taken courage to reveal to you, as to a father and one beloved;

since we too, as God who knows the heart is witness, neither proclaim it abroad (for we are not men of eminence) nor bear hostility toward it.

On the contrary, we hold the emperor and most pious sovereign enshrined in our heart with love, and all my kinsfolk likewise, being one who loves his own, as you know, and we remember him both in the divine liturgy and pray for him both privately and publicly.

And we are in communion with the Church, and may it never be that we should be torn apart from her.

Forgive me, the sole sinner;

I have chosen to mourn my sins in this corner, and not to be entangled with those who are in the world.

What offense is this? Grant me this, my most beloved nephew (for I know that you are able) — both to remain quiet here and to keep my distance from whatever person may come along;

make the rough places smooth, and level whatever causes roughness.

And become the arbiter of our peaceful life and the shield-companion of our quiet, so that, if there is anything of use to us in this, you may judge it justly and reasonably.

{To Stephen the Asekretis} Yesterday, since we had the good fortune to share in your illustrious presence, after some other conversation — the very occasion of your arrival here — we somehow came to speak of scriptural questions, and, caught up in much perplexity, we parted from one another without having reached any persuasive conclusion on these matters.

And we, O master, speaking as untrained laymen, shall certainly not respond in a manner equal to your present wisdom;

but so that we might not bring judgment upon ourselves by falling silent about what ought to be said (for it is written, 'You shall surely reprove your neighbor, and you shall not bear sin because of him'), and especially since, by reproving a wise man, we shall rather be loved the more for it, we thought it necessary to address to you what is fitting.

My lord, to speak briefly, setting aside the many questions and objections, you said that it is not fitting for the presiding leader, that is, the chief shepherd, apart from matters of the faith, when concerning the other commandments of the Lord he does something forbidden either out of ignorance or willingly, to be reminded of it by anyone; whereas we said that indeed he ought to be, but by those who excel others in knowledge and understanding.