It belongs to him both that it be given, and that everything which is given; for, according to the Apostle, every good gift comes down from above, from the Father of lights, from whom both the will is bestowed and the accomplishment supplied. Since penance is not to be obtained by name only, but must be carried out in deed, penance is no idle name, since it derives its toilsome title from the quality of the work. For he cannot be called penitent who commits things to be repented of, but rather he who wipes away his past sins or stains by humility of heart, subjection of body, assiduity in good works, persistence in prayers, continuance of groanings, contrition of breast, outpouring of tears, that he may be able to say with the prophet:
'Remember not our old iniquities'—surely not the daily ones—and that other word: 'I have laboured in my groaning, every night I will wash my bed, I will water my couch with my tears'; and again: 'I roared from the groaning of my heart'; and again: 'For I will declare my iniquity, and I will think upon my sin.' Let our crimes therefore be here before us, that they may not be able to stand against us in the day of judgment; and let us deserve, set here, to say also that other word with confidence: 'I acknowledge my transgression, and my injustices I have not covered. I said: I will declare against myself my injustices unto the Lord, and thou hast forgiven the impiety of my heart.'
It is certain that, in the measure that you are displeased with yourself concerning your former conduct, in that same measure you will please the Lord; and in the measure that you please yourself, you will without doubt displease him who says: 'For he scattereth the bones of them that please themselves.'
And therefore, like most severe censors, let us ourselves more strictly avenge our own faults upon ourselves; let us in a manner become our own torturers and judges through the various torments of the body, so that in that time of just examination the King's sentence may have nothing in us to condemn, since it has already corrected us here by the discipline of a more chastened life; for the just and merciful judge does not judge the same thing twice—that is, he will show himself gentle to the one whom he finds here to have been severe upon himself in making satisfaction for his sins, and kind to the one whom he recognizes to have been strict toward himself in this life, according to that Gospel saying: 'He that loseth his soul for my sake shall find it'; or that other: 'Blessed are you that mourn now, for you shall laugh.'
For everything that is done in this world is brief, whether good or evil, as you have already proved by experience, just as the Lord either permitted or willed. And therefore we ought to be steadfast in enduring afflictions for the love of God, since, if weeping tarry until the evening, then in the morning gladness shall follow. So let us now sow in tears what we shall then reap in joys. Let these few things, spoken to strengthen your faith for the comfort of exhortation, suffice—which, though I do not do them myself, yet I exhort that you also may do them. For I know that a reward is appointed for exhortation, since we read: 'Weep with them that weep'; and lest perchance you should say in the judgment:
'I looked for one to grieve together with me, and there was none; and for comforters, and I found none.' But seek out in the divine Scriptures, from which these things have been culled, the more perfect and greater means, if you wish either to complete what you have begun or to attain to what has been promised. To you who seek thus the Lord will give both knowledge and strength alike, that you may both understand what you read and guard what you have understood. For the Father of orphans and the judge of widows, when he sees you hope thus much from him, will both grant to your wards protection with fatherly affection, and lead you by the recompense of the Judge to your reward. XVI.
To the holy and apostolic lord, and the patron and pope to be cultivated before all others with a more particular devotion and affection in Christ the Lord, bishop Aeonius, Ruricius the bishop. A little while ago I received the letter of your holiness, in which you also took it so much to heart to admonish me more affectionately concerning my failure in duty, saying: 'Nothing is more excellent than charity.'
Which I affirm to be most true; and according to the Apostle I say that charity is perfect and sublime which proceeds from a pure heart and a good conscience and faith unfeigned—which, according to the same Apostle, is patient, is kind, which is not puffed up, is not envious, seeks not the things that are its own, does not 'rejoice over iniquity, but rejoices together with the truth, believes all things, hopes all things'; and hence it is that it never falls. It is patient, because, fixed in God, it stands immovable against the temptations or storms of the world. It is kind, because it delights in the advancement of its neighbours. It is not puffed up, because it is not proud toward the humble. It is not envious, because it knows not how to envy an equal.
It seeks not the things that are its own, since according to the Lord's word it sets even the least before itself and earns the advantages of others by its own disadvantages. It rejoices not over iniquity, because it knows not how to be glad save in the prosperity of the brethren. But it rejoices together with the truth, because it honours a friend with sincere, not feigned, love, nor mocks him with false flattery, but celebrates him with true honour. It believes all things, because it trusts in the divine commands and promises; and therefore it hopes all things, because it does not doubt that great things will be repaid to it for the least, perpetual for the perishable, eternal for the temporal. It never falls, because humility cannot have a fall, since it always has ascent; and although it ever meditates on lofty things, yet it does not presume to dwell among the heights.
Although its conversation is held in heaven, yet it itself seems to cleave to earthly things—lofty in deed, but lowly in mind—having whereof it may glory in the Lord, and yet not be exalted in the world. These things, because you bade me, I have ventured to write, not for our own learning, but for your condescension. But it is yours to instruct us with words and ever to summon us to this same charity by examples; for love, which before acquaintance has been mutually begun and fostered between absent persons by epistolary speech, ought to be increased, not diminished, by bodily sight, and to grow by the gaze, what began by address. XVII. To the sublime and ever magnificent lord, brother Taurentius, Ruricius the bishop.
The affection of a solicitous heart demands that the utterance of a less skilled speaker be brought forth, nor does it blush at the reproach of rusticity, provided it fulfil the command of charity, as the holy Apostle says: 'Perfect charity casteth out fear'; for it is far better to love one's neighbour sincerely than to preach perfectly, since indeed many more are found in the world endowed with the charm of eloquence than perfected in the vigour of love—because, as that which is good is rare, so is that which is eternal arduous. For, according to the Lord's word, sloping and well-trodden is the way that casts down into Gehenna, but narrower and more difficult is the way that raises up to glory. And what cause is there, save that many walk that way, and few this?
And therefore, since the term of the present age is now at hand and the day of old age everywhere near—as our shorn hair also teaches and befits us—let us not in our old years meditate youthful deeds, nor let the lust of adolescence reign in a worn-out body and a decrepit heart; concerning which, at the time of judgment, in that dread examination of the eternal reckoning—when he who is the witness and judge of all mortals shall not only weigh merits and deeds, but shall also scrutinize words and desires, and according to his promise shall give to some a reward for the offering of a cup of cold water, to others a punishment for the levity of an idle word—he may declare us guilty, even if not from the pleasure of a perpetrated crime, at least from the will of concupiscence; for 'whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath already committed adultery with her in his heart.'
And it behoves us to observe this likewise with regard to all other things, so that, the weak parts of desire of this body being cut off, we may enter into the kingdom maimed and yet whole, with such members—rather than be cast, sound yet lost, into the everlasting fire.
When all these things have been wholesomely treated and duly considered, while a respite is granted, let us turn away from evil and unceasingly work good; let us forget the things that are past, despise the present, desire the things to come; let us forget them in our deeds, but remember them in our consciences, that every sin may die for us in life and live in penance; let us now sow in weeping what afterward we may reap in joy, since the time of this life is a time of labour, but the day of recompense is a time of harvest, when without doubt that shall appear to each one in the sprouting blade which he now scatters in the seed, as one of the saints says: 'My justice shall answer me tomorrow'—calling 'tomorrow' assuredly the day of resurrection.
These things, most excellent brothers, we have ventured to write to your unanimity confidently—not by pontifical authority, but by brotherly affection, with charity dictating—whereby we might prove to you, or toward you, not the talent of a dictator, but the affection of a true brother. Bidding you health, therefore, I ask that, as you have deigned to promise, you send us by the bearer of this letter, without delay, the book of holy Augustine 'On the City of God'; by reading which, while you edify us on earth, you may prepare for yourselves dwellings of that same City in heaven—to which, nevertheless, we cannot come otherwise than by ascending the steps of charity, since charity itself is the more eminent way, which both unites us, set here, to God, and, having laid us up, leads us to God; concerning which the prophet also testifies:
'They went from virtue to virtue; the God of gods shall be seen in Zion.' Wherefore let us here sharpen the eyes of the heart with the salve of good works, that there we may be able to see God, since according to the Gospel, 'Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God.' And accordingly the gaze of the inner man must here be prepared, that there our vision may not be dulled. XVIII. To the holy and most blessed lord, and to be cultivated by me with particular devotion and affection in a special manner, pope Sedatus the bishop, Ruricius the bishop. You blame me rather often and very frequently reproach me that I have not until now written to your beatitude, inseparable from me in Christ the Lord.
Would that the means of doing were such as is the will of writing, so that the charity which is conceived in the heart might be merited by the mouth! But where utterance is lacking, the affection is silenced; and content within the recesses of the breast is its own conscience that it is not blameworthy in love, even if in the rendering of duties it does not perceive itself to be equal; because it trusts that, just as it itself perceives the love of a brother within itself by inference, so too a loving brother can likewise know it from his own love—since by nothing do we better measure the secrets of others' hearts than by contemplation of our own inmost places. For we believe ourselves to be loved by another just so much as we love him with charity.
I have obeyed, therefore, your request, I have obeyed your command, so as to send you writings woven together with whatever kind of words; which, if you love us simply, as I trust, you will either at once destroy—lest what is dear to you should begin to be despised by others, since love and hatred do not hear with equal judgment—or else you will keep them to be read by you alone, so that, as often as the fire of charity for seeing us is kindled in you, you may temper your longing by converse with them. Moreover, that you might more fully know the sincerity of our love toward you, we have presumed to inflict an injury upon your ears, because we are certain that those who love do not so much desire to hear eloquent things as strong ones, not so much pleasurable as true.
Wherefore we trust that neither the length of our page may bring satiety to your piety, nor our rustic speech weariness, knowing that the more abundantly you ruminate upon us, the more ardently you will hunger. XVIIII. To his holy patron, Sedatus, Ruricius his client, obeying fatherly admonitions, sings together his thanks and renders greeting—whom with caressing prayers he begs in fear, lest perchance the slight song should displease, being less than the judgment of so great a master. Do you gladly run back over this with your eyes; do you, holy hands, frequently turn this over; while you read this again, remember me. Let my tongue ever recall and sing me, and let your mind hold me, let slumber retain me, let your lips ever resound me, who am yours.
These do you lay up in your tender heart; these, while sitting beneath your roof and while taking the road, these amid the cups while reclining at the couch, and at sparing feasts and sweet foods, do you recite—shut up in the cave of the breast and the marrow of the heart—with singing mind. So may God, the bestower of all good things, Christ reigning with the everlasting Father, granting worthy hymns to the Holy Spirit, grant that we may both see each other's faces and render in living words those things which now weary the depths of the breast. XX. To his undivided and ever magnificent son, lord Rusticus, Ruricius the bishop. Our common friendship makes for me a disquiet from others, and from you to me; for those who trust that I can do with you—I will not say much, but everything—flee for their own security to our little church.
Whose groanings I cannot but compassionate, and whose prayers I cannot but obey, so that I may more attentively supplicate your power—for their guilt indeed, but likewise for your own profit. And do not wonder that I said their guilt pertains to your profit, since their pardon becomes your indulgence, just as the indigence of the poor is known to be the abundance of those who give. For this shall be repaid to us in the judgment, which we have bestowed in the world, the Lord himself saying: 'Forgive, and you shall be forgiven; give, and it shall be given to you'; and again: 'If you forgive men, your Father will also forgive you your sins.'
Hence we plainly recognize that our God has placed his sentence within our own judgment—he who, the merciful and just hearer of our prayers, has prescribed to his own power out of our leniency, so that in a manner he might not hold the right of severity over those whom he has not perceived here to be greedy for vengeance; because what he himself is, this he desires us also to be. He is merciful; he seeks the merciful, saying: 'Be perfect, as also your Father is perfect.' Daily he grants pardon to those who sin and supplicate; therefore he also asks indulgence from sinners. Whence also in his own Lord's prayer, by his teaching, we say: 'Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors.'
By which most stern words we bind ourselves with chains, unless we fulfil what we promise, since also through the prophet he speaks thus: 'Man holdeth anger against man, and seeketh healing from the Lord.' Wherefore, on behalf of Baxo, who has taken refuge at the church of Userca, I come as an intercessor, hoping that, first for the fear of God, then for our intercession, you may deign to spare him; by whose absolution you can both take away the confusion in us and procure for us a reward. XXI. Ruricius the bishop to Capilluto his son, greeting.
Your rather frequent illness is unwelcome to me, which also seems to me to be a divine admonition, whereby our Lord, out of his most lavish piety, prefers to chastise sinners rather than to destroy them; so that those whom the long age of their years has not convinced, infirmity may at least convict, that they may lay aside the cloak of the world and put on the garment of the church, which is the sackcloth, the token of contrition; for 'a contrite and humbled heart God does not despise.' For he goes to heaven who dashes himself to the ground, since 'he that exalteth himself shall be humbled, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.' Whence that perfect penitent also says: 'My soul hath cleaved to the pavement; quicken me, O Lord, according to thy word.'
What is 'according to thy word,' if not 'according to thy promise'? For he who, smitten with compunction, has bewept his sins before thee in the world, thou wilt lead into the kingdom, where he may thereafter sing in security: 'The Lord hath heard, and hath had mercy on me; the Lord is become my helper. Thou hast turned my mourning into joy for me; thou hast cut my sackcloth, and hast girded me with gladness.' Whence I urge your piety that what you have purposed you may, with God's help, do more speedily, since death does not delay, the Lord himself saying: 'Delay not to be converted to God, nor put it off from day to day; for his wrath shall come suddenly, and in the time of vengeance he shall destroy thee.'
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ideoque, dumtempushabemus, conuertamuraddominum, utnoncumhocmundodamnemur, quiasinedubioillimisericorsdeussuumpraestatauxilium, quemcircapraeceptasuacernitadtentum. XXII. RURICIUSEPISCOPUSEUFRASIOEPISCOPO. GratiasagosincerissimaeinChristodominogermanitatiuestrae, quodperlatotaedioaduosnostroconfestimnoslitterisuestrisuisitaretantihabuistis, qui, duminfirmitatisnostraesollicitudinemgeritis, sanitatemuestripectorisadprobatis, quia, sicutipsimeliusnostis, finispraeceptiestcaritasdecordepuroetconscientiabonaetfidenonficta, et, quiuisitatinfirmum, indilectionefirmatur.
And therefore, while we have time, let us be converted to the Lord, that we may not be condemned together with this world, since without doubt the merciful God grants his help to him whom he sees to be attentive about his precepts. XXII. Ruricius the bishop to Euphrasius the bishop. I give thanks to your most sincere brotherhood in Christ the Lord, that, when our weariness was reported to you, you took it so much to heart at once to visit us by your letters—you who, while you bear solicitude for our infirmity, prove the soundness of your own breast; for, as you yourself know better, 'the end of the commandment is charity, from a pure heart and a good conscience and faith unfeigned,' and 'he that visiteth the sick is strengthened in love.'
Whence I hope the more particularly that you may aid with prayers him whom you seek out with words. Therefore to the returning bearers of letters I render back the mutual office of well-wishing; and, as the rumour reached you, I signify that I have been sufficiently afflicted according to the divine compassion, not according to my own merits, since he himself, who feeds with tears in measured portion, has set, according to his own piety, a limit to the chastisement on account of our weakness, lest our infirmity should fail under the correction of his hand. And therefore, by his propitious compassion, I report that I am now in better case.
Sending you consolation by the bearer page of your grief, I arrange, by the reading of it, that you who are compassionate to our labours for charity's sake may also be partakers, in the name of God, of the joy over health regained. Pray for me. XXIII. To his most devoted and ever magnificent lord, Verus, Ruricius the bishop. Having reread the letter of your piety, I gave thanks to God, because I learned by its report that you had recovered before you had been made ill. That this should befall you so frequently I trust to be from God propitious rather than offended, since 'whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.'
Therefore the diligent and gentle admonition shows you to be received into the divine discipline, since fatherly clemency prefers, through manifold inconveniences, to correct a negligent son rather than to punish a sinning one; it prefers to draw the wavering and doubtful to its service by the reins of pious moderation, rather than to restrain by a sharper lash one who is straying and slipping through the precipices of the world. For he himself is the most indulgent father of the household, who lays down his soul for his sheep. He himself is the good shepherd, who prefers, solicitous, to carry back the lost sheep upon his own shoulders to the Lord's sheepfolds, rather than, strict, to call it back with urging goads.
He himself is the loving father, who, to the wickedly prodigal son and the squanderer of the substance committed to him, returning to him even though late, not only does not impute his former crimes, but even multiplies the lost rewards—while he cherishes him in his arms, soothes him with kisses, enriches him with gifts, confirms him with teaching—not so much indignant at his departure as gladdened at his return.
For he himself took up in himself the effects and affections of all these names, so that, as the Apostle says, in many and various ways he might instruct us by words, train us by teachings, draw us by benefits, form us by examples, reconcile us by his prayer, redeem us by his passion, give us life by his death, bestow immortality, justify us by his resurrection, bear us up by his ascension, and, having reconciled us through his own blood, restore us to that grace of the Father from which we had fallen. For he himself is our propitiation before the Father, ceaselessly pleading to his own loving-kindness: 'Father, I pray not only for these, but for those also who will believe in me through their word. Father, I will that, where I am, they also may be with me.'
'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.' He himself cries out to us daily through his apostle: 'Do not love the world, nor the things that are in the world. For whoever loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him, because all that is in the world is the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of human life, which is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passes away and its lust; but he who does the will of God abides forever, just as God also abides forever.' He himself in the Gospel invites us with endearments, draws us with gifts, urges us with exhortation, saying:
'Come unto me, all you who labor and are heavy laden,' and the rest—so that, as though submitting our necks to a yoke by his saving precepts, we may yoke ourselves to his saving chariot of humility and lowliness, and thus dare to follow him who calls us back, to hear him who cries out, in no way to spurn him who entreats us, lest afterward we feel him judging.
In which judgment, as he himself in the Gospel deigned to forewarn and teach, when he shall sit upon the throne of his majesty, when he will weigh not only merits and deeds but also examine words and idle talk—whomever he then shall see here neglecting his saving precepts and despising with proud mind his most wholesome admonitions, him he will not only shut out, with the foolish, from the gate of the heavenly kingdom, but will also assign his portion with the unbelievers, so that with those whose company he keeps in this age he may have his lot for eternity. XXIV. TO HIS SON CONSTANTIUS, BISHOP RURICIUS.
Although I have come to know that you are given over to Bacchus, to concerts and various music, and indeed also to choirs of girls, nevertheless, because it is good now and then to take breath from these things while youth boils most fiercely, and rather to give leisure to the Lord than to Liber, and to devote effort to one's parents than to songs, I urge you that tomorrow, which will be the fourth day of the week, you meet me fasting at Briva—earlier, however—which I scarcely believe you will do. XXV. ANOTHER OF THE SAME. You had promised me something else, with God as witness: that you would worship him, not Janus, of which crime you also wish me to be a partaker, so that I should supply delicacies for the cultivation of this error and pour oil upon the fire—which you should know profits neither of us. But perhaps you say: you made a promise.
With what face will you exact promises from me, when you yourself have violated the sacred oaths? On what ground will you give pardon to my promise, as long as I know you to be enslaved to this passion—lest we seem to confirm a deed whose pact we condemn, and become a stumbling block to one to whom we ought to be an example? XXVI. RURICIUS TO HIS DEAR APOLLINARIS, GREETING. Since out of mutual love you ever deign to take care for our affairs, I report to your solicitous devotion and devout solicitude that we have undertaken a business returning to us not small indeed, but—God being favorable—delightful, which could profit us greatly if either intelligence followed our intent or talent followed our intelligence. For the blind man waits in vain for the rising of the sun.
For the sun indeed always rises for those who see, but for those who do not perceive its radiance, it is always hidden as if by clouds. For our Sollius, our lord and common father, whom I had said I had given to your sublimity to be transcribed, I have received back to be read.
His reading, as it restores to me an old affection, so, on account of the obscurity of its words, does not kindle my wit—although, after so long a span of time, we sometimes rouse with our sighs and with sighing breaths that little spark of love which still somehow glows amid the embers of forgetfulness, and at times water it with sweet tears; yet that little flame, drenched by such a shower, the more it is wet, the more it is set ablaze, because through the abundance of tears the flame of longings and affections grows, and does not fail.
This work, therefore, if the Lord grants himself a favorer to your devout decision, I hasten to peruse with you present and to become a disciple from a master—since I am not ashamed even at this age, nor does it irk me, to seize the diligence of a disciple, provided I may attain the discipline of the longed-for art. For anyone ought first to learn before he teaches, since he prematurely usurps the haughtiness of a teacher who has not first taken up the service of a disciple. For what is more just than that you yourself should be the interpreter of your father's eloquence, you who can bring forth all that he wrote, not so much from the parchment of a codex as from the page of your heart?
That you are his sons you prove not only by the nobility of your lineage, but also by the flower of your eloquence and by every kind of virtue—goods which nature conferred upon you no less than learning; for a stream bursting forth from a spring, though it gains by flowing and acquires fullness by running, yet owes both its name and its merit to its author, from whom it takes its appellation. And if divine mercy had willed him to survive until this time, even as he then rejoiced at your imitation of him, so now would he rejoice at your perfection, seeing his hope arrive at its reality, and not envy as his equal the one whom he had wished to be better. XXVII. ANOTHER OF THE SAME.
Although through the deacon Justus I have not deserved to receive letters of your kindly heart and eloquent mouth, by which my wit might be instructed and my desire fed, nevertheless I, who prefer to be judged an affectionate rustic rather than an impious townsman, have not allowed the opportunity of writing to perish—being one who would not wish, I will not say the occasion of writing, but not even of seeing you, to slip away for the space of a single hour. And therefore I greet you most warmly and ask that, without common loss and to the profit of us both, you ever deign, when opportunity is offered, to enlighten us with your letters; for what you spend on us in affection you do not expend, what you bestow you do not lose, and what you transmit to us on paper you retain with yourselves in your heart.
XXVIII. RURICIUS TO HIS DEAR OMMATIUS, GREETING. I have so departed from your devotion that I have not utterly withdrawn from you. I have shown myself to you in that same part of the inner man in which I remained with you. I know that I have remained in that very place from which neither the ancient deceiver could exclude me, nor any recent reconciler. Wherefore I admonish you also with that saying of the most wise Solomon: 'My son, do not forsake an old friend, for a new one will not be like him. A new friend is new wine; it will grow old, and you will drink it with pleasure.' And therefore let us grow old in friendships and be renewed in affection from day to day.