(Written around the same time, in a more serious tone.)
(Written about the same time, in a more serious vein.)
What I wrote before about our stay in Pontus was a joke, not serious; what I write now is very serious. If only someone would place me back in those former days, as Job says, when I enjoyed being with you in our hard way of life; since voluntary hardship is more valuable than involuntary pleasure. If only someone would give me back those psalm-singing sessions and nighttime vigils and those visits with God in prayer, and that immaterial, so to speak, unbodied life. If only I could have back the closeness and unity of soul among the brothers who were made divine and lifted up by you. If only I could have the contest and encouragement toward virtue which we secured through written Rules and Canons. If only I could have the devoted labor in the Divine Scriptures, and the light we found in them through the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Or, if I may speak of smaller and less important matters, if only I could have the daily routines and experiences. If only I could have the gathering of wood and the cutting of stone. If only I could have the golden plane tree, more precious than that of Xerxes, under which sat not a king weakened by luxury, but a monk worn out by hard living, which I planted and Apollos—I mean your honorable self—watered, but God gave the increase to our honor, so that a memorial might remain among you of my diligence, just as we read and believe that in the Ark, Aaron's rod that budded remained. To long for all this is very easy, but it is not easy to obtain it. But you should come to me, and join with me in virtue, and work together with me, and help me by your prayers to keep the benefit we used to get together, so that I may not perish little by little, like a shadow as the day draws to its close. I would rather breathe you than the air, and only live while I am with you, either actually in your presence, or virtually through your image in your absence.
What I wrote before about our stay in Pontus was in joke, not in earnest; what I write now is very much in earnest. O that one would place me as in the month of those former days, Job 29:2 in which I luxuriated with you in hard living; since voluntary pain is more valuable than involuntary delight. O that one would give me back those psalmodies and vigils and those sojournings with God in prayer, and that immaterial, so to speak, and unbodied life. O for the intimacy and one-souledness of the brethren who were by you divinized and exalted: O for the contest and incitement of virtue which we secured by written Rules and Canons; O for the loving labour in the Divine Oracles, and the light we found in them by the guidance of the Holy Ghost. Or, if I may speak of lesser and slighter matters, O for the daily courses and experiences; O for the gatherings of wood, and the cutting of stone; O for the golden plane-tree, more precious than that of Xerxes, under which sat, not a King enfeebled by luxury, but a Monk worn out by hard life, which I planted and Apollos (I mean your honourable self) watered; 1 Corinthians 3:6 but God gave the increase to our honour, that a memorial might remain among you of my diligence, as in the Ark we read and believe, did Aaron's rod that budded. Numbers 17:8, 10 To long for all this is very easy, but it is not easy to attain it. But do you come to me, and conspire with me in virtue, and co-operate with me, and aid me by your prayers to keep the profit which we used to get together, that I may not perish little by little, like a shadow as the day draws to its close. I would rather breathe you than the air, and only live while I am with you, either actually in your presence, or virtually by your likeness in your absence.