John Chrysostom, Letters

laying up for you beforehand these crowns, undecaying and never fading. 134. To Diogenes. I would have paid a great price to see your grace, my most wonderful lord, and you yourself know this even before this letter, since you also know clearly the affection which we have for your wonderfulness. But since this is not possible—for the distance of the road is great, and we are not at liberty to move wherever we might wish, and the fear of Isaurian raids is at its peak every day—I entreat your nobility, that which is the greatest comfort to us for both the desolation here, and the hardship, and all other affliction, to grant us this more continuously, as far as is possible: to constantly receive letters, bringing the good news of your health, and that of your whole house. For not even this is easy for us to have in great abundance, because no one travels quickly from there to here. But nevertheless, even if what we have asked is difficult, be so good as to make an effort, as far as is possible, and to send letters continually reporting to us about your well-being. And so that you may know our situation, we are enjoying freedom from business, much quiet, a bright calm, and moderate health, being disturbed only by this: that we are separated from you who love us. But your understanding is sufficient to console even this pain which I have mentioned. Grant us then this favor, so that even sitting at so great a 52.693 distance we may be able to delight in this sweet and warm and genuine love of yours. 135. To Theodotus the deacon. I myself am not unaware that you would have long been with us, if the fear of the Isaurians had not walled us off. For one who endured to run here in the frost that freezes everything, and in so much snow, much more so, when spring appeared and there was great calm in the air, would you not have endured to remain there. For I know the sweetness, and kindness, and warmth of your disposition, its sincerity, the soul full of much liberty. Therefore I myself am not just a little disheartened, that in such a most mild season of the year, you bring upon us no ordinary winter of despondency by being separated from us for so long a time. And I say these things not to draw you here, even if you yourself should wish it ten thousand times—for everything is filled with many wars, and you will know this through those arriving there from here—but so that you may learn that not even we, although enjoying much quiet and freedom from business, can be here without grief, separated from your honorableness, and that having learned this, you may write to us continually, not only through those who go from us to you, but also through those from there who undertake the journey and arrival here. And we are very grateful to you, my most honorable lord, both for the thought and the care which you have concerning the disturbances here. For every day the matters of the siege here are intensified, and we are sitting in this fortress as in a trap. Indeed, even in the middle of the night, beyond all hope and expectation, a band of three hundred Isaurians overran the city, and would have almost captured us too. But the hand of God quickly turned them away even without our noticing, so that we were not only out of danger, but also out of fear, and when day came, we then learned what had happened. For these reasons, rejoice and be glad, and do not cease beseeching God to establish us in all safety, and to deliver us from the illness that is upon us. For even if we have been freed from being in a critical condition, nevertheless remnants of the illness still remain with us, constantly reminding us of the illness. And we have written these things not to cause you grief, but to rouse you more earnestly to prayers on our behalf. I commend my lord the most honorable reader Theodotus to your piety, so that as far as possible you may become a haven to him in all things. For there are many things, as we have learned, that grieve him. 136. To Theodotus the reader. Do not weary yourself seeking an apology for departing from here so quickly, on account of the weakness of your eyes, and on account of the frost

τούτων σοι τοὺς ἀκηράτους ἐκείνους καὶ μηδέποτε μαραινομένους προαποτιθεμένη στεφάνους. ΡΛ∆ʹ. ∆ιογένει. Πολλοῦ ἂν ἐπριάμην ἰδεῖν σου τὴν ἐμμέλειαν, δέσποτά μου θαυμασιώτατε, καὶ τοῦτο οἶσθα καὶ πρὸ τῶν γραμμάτων αὐτὸς, ἐπειδὴ καὶ τὸ φίλτρον οἶσθα σαφῶς, ὃ περὶ τὴν σὴν ἔχομεν θαυμασιότητα. Ἀλλ' ἐπειδὴ τοῦτο οὐκ ἔνι καὶ γὰρ τῆς ὁδοῦ πολὺ τὸ μέσον, καὶ οὐδὲ κύριοι κινεῖσθαι, ὅπουπερ ἂν ἐθέλωμεν, ἐσμὲν, καὶ τῶν Ἰσαυρικῶν ἐφόδων καθ' ἑκάστην ἡμέραν ὁ φόβος ἀκμάζει, παρακαλῶ σου τὴν εὐγένειαν, ὅπερ μέγιστον ἡμῖν εἰς παραμυθίαν ἐστὶ καὶ τῆς ἐρημίας τῆς ἐνταῦθα, καὶ τῆς ταλαιπωρίας, καὶ τῆς ἄλλης πάσης θλίψεως, τὸ συνεχῶς γράμματα δέχεσθαι, εὐαγγελιζόμενα τὴν ὑγείαν τὴν σὴν, καὶ τοῦ οἴκου σου παντὸς, τοῦτο χαρίζεσθαι ἡμῖν συνεχέστερον κατὰ τὸ ἐγχωροῦν. Οὐδὲ γὰρ τοῦτο ῥᾴδιον μετὰ πολλῆς ἡμᾶς ἔχειν τῆς δαψιλείας, διὰ τὸ μηδένα ταχέως ἐκεῖθεν ἐνταῦθα ἀφικνεῖσθαι. Ἀλλ' ὅμως, εἰ καὶ ἐργῶδες ὅπερ ᾐτήσαμεν, ἀλλ' ὡς ἂν οἷόν τε ᾖ σπουδὴν ποιήσασθαι παρακλήθητι, καὶ συνεχῶς πέμπειν ἐπιστολὰς ἀπαγγελλούσας ἡμῖν τὰ περὶ τῆς ῥώσεως τῆς σῆς. Ἵνα δὲ καὶ τὰ ἡμέτερα εἰδέναι ἕχῃς, ἀπραγμοσύνης ἀπολαύομεν, ἡσυχίας πολλῆς, λευκῆς τῆς γαλήνης, ὑγείας συμμέτρου, τούτῳ θορυβούμενοι μόνον, τῷ κεχωρίσθαι ὑμῶν τῶν ἀγαπώντων ἡμᾶς. Ἀλλ' ἱκανὴ ἡ σύνεσίς σου καὶ τοῦτον παραμυθήσασθαι τὸν πόνον, ὃν εἶπον. ∆ίδου δὴ ταύτην ἡμῖν τὴν χάριν, ὥστε καὶ ἐκ τοσούτου ἡμᾶς καθημένους 52.693 διαστήματος δύνασθαι ἐντρυφᾷν καὶ ταύτης τῆς γλυκείας σου καὶ θερμῆς καὶ γνησίας ἀγάπης. ΡΛΕʹ. Θεοδότῳ διακόνῳ. Οὐδὲ αὐτὸς ἀγνοῶ, ὅτι πάλαι μεθ' ἡμῶν ἔμελλες εἶναι, εἰ μὴ τῶν Ἰσαύρων ὁ φόβος διετείχιζεν. Ὁ γὰρ ἐν κρυμῷ πάντα πηγνύντι, καὶ χιόνι τοσαύτῃ δραμεῖν ἐνταῦθα ἀνασχόμενος, πολλῷ μᾶλλον τοῦ ἤρους φανέντος, καὶ πολλῆς τῆς κατὰ τὸν ἀέρα γαλήνης οὔσης, οὐκ ἂν ἠνέσχου μένειν αὐτόθι. Οἶδα γὰρ τὸ γλυκὺ, καὶ προσηνὲς, καὶ θερμόν σου τῆς διαθέσεως, τὸ εἰλικρινὲς, τὴν πολλῆς γέμουσαν ἐλευθερίας ψυχήν. ∆ιὸ καὶ αὐτὸς οὐχ ὡς ἔτυχεν ἀθυμῶ, ὅτι ἐν τῇ οὕτως ἡμερωτάτῃ τοῦ ἔτους ὥρᾳ, χειμῶνα οὐ τὸν τυχόντα ἡμῖν ἐπάγεις ἀθυμίας, τοσοῦτον ἡμῶν χωριζόμενος χρόνον. Καὶ ταῦτα λέγω οὐχ ἕλκων σε ἐνταῦθα κἂν μυριάκις αὐτὸς θέλῃς πολλῶν γὰρ ἅπαντα πολέμων ἐμπέπλησται, καὶ τοῦτο εἴσῃ διὰ τῶν ἐντεῦθεν ἐκεῖσε ἀφικνουμένων, ἀλλ' ἵνα μάθῃς ὅτι οὐδὲ ἡμεῖς, καίτοι γε ἡσυχίας καὶ ἀπραγμοσύνης πολλῆς ἀπολαύοντες, ἀλύπως δυνάμεθα εἶναι ἐνταῦθα τῆς σῆς κεχωρισμένοι τιμιότητος, καὶ τοῦτο μαθὼν συνεχῶς ἡμῖν ἐπιστέλλῃς, μὴ μόνον διὰ τῶν παρ' ἡμῶν ἐκεῖσε ἐρχομένων, ἀλλὰ καὶ διὰ τῶν ἐκεῖθεν ἁπτομένων τῆς ὁδοῦ καὶ τῆς ἐνταῦθα ἀφίξεως. Πολλὴν δέ σοι χάριν ἴσμεν, δέσποτά μου τιμιώτατε, καὶ τῆς φροντίδος, καὶ τῆς μερίμνης, ἣν ἔχεις ὑπὲρ τῶν ἐνταῦθα θορύβων. Καὶ γὰρ καθ' ἑκάστην ἡμέραν ἐπιτείνεται τὰ τῆς πολιορκίας τῆς ἐνταῦθα, καὶ ὡς ἐν παγίδι, τῷ φρουρίῳ τούτῳ καθήμεθα. Ἤδη γοῦν καὶ μέσων νυκτῶν παρ' ἐλπίδα πᾶσαν καὶ προσδοκίαν, στῖφος Ἰσαύρων τριακοσίων τὴν πόλιν κατέδραμον, καὶ μικροῦ ἂν καὶ ἡμᾶς εἷλον. Ἀλλ' ἡ τοῦ Θεοῦ χεὶρ ταχέως αὐτοὺς καὶ μὴ αἰσθομένων ἡμῶν ἀπέστρεψεν, ὡς μὴ μόνον τῶν κινδύνων, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῦ φόβου ἐκτὸς γενέσθαι, καὶ ἡμέρας γενομένης, τότε μαθεῖν τὰ συμβάντα. ∆ιὰ ταῦτα χαῖρε καὶ εὐφραίνου, καὶ μὴ παύσῃ τὸν Θεὸν παρακαλῶν, ὥστε ἐν ἀσφαλείᾳ ἡμᾶς καταστῆσαι πάσῃ, καὶ ἀπαλλάξαι καὶ τῆς ἐπικειμένης ἡμῖν ἀῤῥωστίας. Εἰ γὰρ καὶ τοῦ σφαλερῶς ἔχειν ἠλευθερώμεθα, ἀλλ' ὅμως μένει ἔτι λείψανα τῆς ἀῤῥωστίας ἡμῖν, συνεχῶς τῆς ἀῤῥωστίας ἀναμιμνήσκοντα. Ταῦτα δὲ ἐπεστάλκαμεν, οὐχ ἵνα λυπήσωμεν, ἀλλ' ἵνα σε σπουδαιότερον πρὸς τὰς ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν διεγείρωμεν εὐχάς. Τὸν κύριόν μου τὸν τιμιώτατον τὸν ἀναγνώστην Θεόδοτον παρακατατίθεμαί σου τῇ εὐλαβείᾳ, ὥστε κατὰ τὸ δυνατὸν ἐν ἅπασιν αὐτῷ γενέσθαι λιμένα. Πολλὰ γάρ ἐστιν, ὡς ἔγνωμεν, αὐτὸν τὰ λυποῦντα. ΡΛʹ. Θεοδότῳ ἀναγνώστῃ. Μὴ κάμνε ζητῶν ἀπολογίαν τοῦ ταχέως ἐντεῦθεν ἀποδημῆσαι, ἐπὶ τὴν τῶν ὀφθαλμῶν ἀσθένειαν, καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν κρυμὸν