Letters — Letter 48 — To Basil

Shortly after the events described above, Basil decided to strengthen his own position by creating a number of new bishoprics in the disputed province. He consecrated Gregory to one of these, Sasima, very much against…

Letter 48 — To Basil

Source: Translated by Charles Gordon Browne and James Edward Swallow. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series , Vol. 7. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. ( Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1894. ) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3103b.htm>.

(Shortly after the events described above, Basil decided to strengthen his own position by creating a number of new bishoprics in the disputed province. He consecrated Gregory to one of these, Sasima, very much against Gregory's will. Gregory felt that he had been treated unfairly and did not attempt to hide his reluctance.)

(Shortly after the events described above, Basil determined to strengthen his own hands by creating a number of new Bishoprics in the disputed Province, to one of which, Sasima, he consecrated Gregory, very much against the will of the latter, who felt that he had been hardly used, and did not attempt to disguise his reluctance. See Gen. Prolegg. p. 195.)

Stop saying that I am uneducated, uncouth, and unfriendly, not even worthy to live, just because I have dared to be aware of how I have been treated. You yourself would admit that I have done nothing wrong in any other way, and my own conscience does not accuse me of being unkind to you in either great or small matters—and I hope it never will. I only know that I realized I had been deceived—too late, admittedly, but I did realize it—and I blame your throne for suddenly lifting you above yourself. I am tired of being blamed for your faults and having to make excuses for them to people who know both our former and our present relationship. Of everything I have to endure, this is the most ridiculous or most pitiable: that the same person should both suffer the wrong and bear the blame—and that is my present situation. Different people blame me for different things according to each person's preferences, disposition, or the extent of their ill will toward me. But the kindest ones reproach me with contempt and disdain, saying that you toss me aside after using me like the most worthless vessels, or like those wooden frames on which arches are built, which are taken down and discarded once the building is finished. Let them be and say what they please—no one will curb their freedom of speech. As for you, as my reward, pay off those blessed and empty hopes that you devised against the critics who accused you of insulting me under the pretense of honoring me, as if I were foolish and easily deceived by such treatment. Now I will plainly speak my mind, and you must not be angry with me. I will tell you exactly what I said at the moment of the injury—not in a fit of anger or so bewildered by what had happened that I lost my reason or didn't know what I was saying. I will not take up arms, nor will I learn military tactics, which I did not learn in former times when the occasion seemed more suitable, when everyone was arming themselves and in a frenzy (you know the weakness of the weak). Nor will I face the warlike Anthimus, even though he is an untimely warrior, since I am unarmed and unwarlike, and therefore more exposed to wounds. Fight him yourself if you wish (for necessity often makes warriors even of the weak), or find someone else to fight when he seizes your mules, guards the pass, and like Amalek of old, blocks the way against Israel. Give me peace above all things. Why should I fight over suckling pigs and chickens, which aren't even mine, as if they were souls and canons? Why should I deprive the Metropolis of the celebrated Sasima, or lay bare and reveal the secret of your intentions, when I should be helping to conceal it? Then be a man and be strong and draw all parties to your own conclusion, as rivers draw the winter torrents, without regard for friendship or intimacy in goodness, or for the reputation such a course will bring you. Devote yourself to the Spirit alone. I will gain only this from your friendship: that I will learn not to trust in friends or to value anything more than God.

Do leave off speaking of me as an ill- educated and uncouth and unfriendly man, not even worthy to live, because I have ventured to be conscious of the way in which I have been treated. You yourself would admit that I have not done wrong in any other respect, and my own conscience does not reproach me with having been unkind to you in either great or small matters; and I hope it never may. I only know that I saw that I had been deceived — too late indeed, but I saw it — and I throw the blame on your throne, as having on a sudden lifted you above yourself; and I am weary of being blamed for faults of yours, and of having to make excuses for them to people who know both our former and our present relations. For of all that I have to endure this is the most ridiculous or most pitiable thing, that the same person should have both to suffer the wrong and to bear the blame, and this is my present case. Different people blame me for different things according to the tastes of each, or each man's disposition, or the measure of their ill feeling on my account; but the kindest reproach me with contempt and disdain, and they throw me on one side after making use of me, like the most valueless vessels, or those frames upon which arches are built, which after the building is complete are taken down and cast aside. We will let them be and say what they please; no one shall curb their freedom of speech. And do you, as my reward, pay off those blessed and empty hopes, which you devised against the evil speakers, who accused you of insulting me on pretence of honouring me, as though I were lightminded and easily taken in by such treatment. Now I will plainly speak out the state of my mind, and you must not be angry with me. For I will tell you just what I said at the moment of the suffering, not in a fit of anger or so much in the sense of astonishment at what had happened as to lose my reason or not to know what I said. I will not take up arms, nor will I learn tactics which I did not learn in former times, when the occasion seemed more suitable, as every one was arming and in frenzy (you know the illness of the weak), nor will I face the martial Anthimus, though he be an untimely warrior, being myself unarmed and unwarlike, and thus the more exposed to wounds. Fight with him yourself if you wish (for necessity often makes warriors even of the weak), or look out for some one to fight when he seizes your mules, keeping guard over a defile, and like Amalek of old, barring the way against Israel. Give me before all things quiet. Why should I fight for sucking pigs and fowls, and those not my own, as though for souls and canons? Why should I deprive the Metropolis of the celebrated Sasima, or lay bare and unveil the secret of your mind, when I ought to join in concealing it? Do you then play the man and be strong and draw all parties to your own conclusion, as the rivers do the winter torrents, without regard for friendship or intimacy in good, or for the reputation which such a course will bring you. Give yourself up to the Spirit alone. I shall gain this only from your friendship, that I shall learn not to trust in friends, or to esteem anything more valuable than God.