Letter 169: You have undertaken a kindly and charitable task in getting together the captive troop of the insolent Glycerius (at present I must so write), and, so far as in you lay, covering our common shame. It is only right that your reverence should undo this dishonour with a full knowledge of the facts about him. This grave and venerable Glycerius of yo...
Basil of Caesarea→Cæsarius, brother of Gregory|c. 367 AD|basil caesarea
Slavery or captivity; Economic matters; Trade & commerce
From: Basil, Bishop of Caesarea
To: Gregory [Gregory of Nazianzus, his closest friend]
Date: ~367 AD
Context: Basil recounts the outrageous behavior of the deacon Glycerius, who abandoned his post, gathered a group of young women into an unauthorized convent under his personal control, defied all authority, and finally absconded with some of them in the night.
My dear Gregory,
You have taken on a generous and charitable task in rounding up the runaway flock of the insufferable Glycerius (I must call him that for now) and, as far as you could, covering up our shared embarrassment. It is only right that you should know the full facts before trying to undo the damage.
This grave and dignified Glycerius of yours was ordained by me as deacon of the church at Venesa, to serve under the presbyter and look after the practical work of the church. The man is impossible in other respects, but he does have a natural talent for manual labor. No sooner was he appointed than he neglected every duty, as though there were nothing to do. Instead, on his own authority and by his own initiative, he gathered together a group of unfortunate young women -- some who came to him of their own accord (you know how susceptible the young are to this sort of thing) and others who were dragged in unwillingly. He then adopted the title and manner of a patriarch, and began playing the man of dignity overnight.
His motive was not piety but survival -- he wanted a livelihood, the way other men take up a trade. He has all but destroyed the entire church, scorning his own presbyter (a man venerable in both character and years), scorning his chorepiscopus [a rural bishop subordinate to the main bishop], and treating me as though I were nobody at all -- filling the town and clergy with constant disorder and turmoil.
When his chorepiscopus and I mildly rebuked him -- not harshly, just firmly enough that he would not treat us with open contempt or stir the younger clergy into similar defiance -- he responded with something truly outrageous. He rounded up as many of the young women as he could and fled in the night.
Consider the timing. A feast was being celebrated. Crowds had gathered, as was natural. And in the middle of all that, he bolted. I am sure you find this as painful to hear as it is for me to tell.
ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA
Basil to Gregory.
You have undertaken a kindly and charitable task in getting together the captive troop of the insolent Glycerius (at present I must so write), and, so far as in you lay, covering our common shame. It is only right that your reverence should undo this dishonour with a full knowledge of the facts about him.
This grave and venerable Glycerius of yours was ordained by me deacon of the church of Venesa to serve the presbyter, and look after the work of the Church, for, though the fellow is in other respects intractable, he is naturally clever at manual labour. No sooner was he appointed than he neglected his work, as though there had been absolutely nothing to do. But, of his own private power and authority, he got together some wretched virgins, some of whom came to him of their own accord (you know how young people are prone to anything of this kind), and others were unwillingly forced to accept him as leader of their company. Then he assumed the style and title of patriarch, and began all of a sudden to play the man of dignity. He had not attained to this on any reasonable or pious ground; his only object was to get a means of livelihood, just as some men start one trade and some another. He has all but upset the whole Church, scorning his own presbyter, a man venerable both by character and age; scorning his chorepiscopus, and myself, as of no account at all, continually filling the town and all the clergy with disorder and disturbance. And now, on being mildly rebuked by me and his chorepiscopus, that he may not treat us with contempt (for he was trying to stir the younger men to like insubordination), he is meditating conduct most audacious and inhuman. After robbing as many of the virgins as he could, he has made off by night. I am sure all this will have seemed very sad to you. Think of the time too. The feast was being held there, and, as was natural, large numbers of people were gathered together. He, however, on his side, brought out his own troop, who followed young men and danced round them, causing all well-disposed persons to be most distressed, while loose chatterers laughed aloud. And even this was not enough, enormous as was the scandal. I am told that even the parents of the virgins, finding their bereavement unendurable, wishful to bring home the scattered company, and falling with not unnatural sighs and tears at their daughters' feet, have been insulted and outraged by this excellent young man and his troop of bandits. I am sure your reverence will think all this intolerable. The ridicule of it attaches to us all alike. First of all, order him to come back with the virgins. He might find some mercy, if he were to come back with a letter from you. If you do not adopt this course, at least send the virgins back to their mother the Church. If this cannot be done, at all events do not allow any violence to be done to those that are willing to return, but get them to return to me. Otherwise I call God and man to witness that all this is ill done, and a breach of the law of the Church. The best course would be for Glycerius to come back with a letter, and in a becoming and proper frame of mind; if not, let him be deprived of his ministry.
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Source. Translated by Blomfield Jackson. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 8. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1895.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3202169.htm>.
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From:Basil, Bishop of Caesarea
To:Gregory [Gregory of Nazianzus, his closest friend]
Date:~367 AD
Context:Basil recounts the outrageous behavior of the deacon Glycerius, who abandoned his post, gathered a group of young women into an unauthorized convent under his personal control, defied all authority, and finally absconded with some of them in the night.
My dear Gregory,
You have taken on a generous and charitable task in rounding up the runaway flock of the insufferable Glycerius (I must call him that for now) and, as far as you could, covering up our shared embarrassment. It is only right that you should know the full facts before trying to undo the damage.
This grave and dignified Glycerius of yours was ordained by me as deacon of the church at Venesa, to serve under the presbyter and look after the practical work of the church. The man is impossible in other respects, but he does have a natural talent for manual labor. No sooner was he appointed than he neglected every duty, as though there were nothing to do. Instead, on his own authority and by his own initiative, he gathered together a group of unfortunate young women -- some who came to him of their own accord (you know how susceptible the young are to this sort of thing) and others who were dragged in unwillingly. He then adopted the title and manner of a patriarch, and began playing the man of dignity overnight.
His motive was not piety but survival -- he wanted a livelihood, the way other men take up a trade. He has all but destroyed the entire church, scorning his own presbyter (a man venerable in both character and years), scorning his chorepiscopus [a rural bishop subordinate to the main bishop], and treating me as though I were nobody at all -- filling the town and clergy with constant disorder and turmoil.
When his chorepiscopus and I mildly rebuked him -- not harshly, just firmly enough that he would not treat us with open contempt or stir the younger clergy into similar defiance -- he responded with something truly outrageous. He rounded up as many of the young women as he could and fled in the night.
Consider the timing. A feast was being celebrated. Crowds had gathered, as was natural. And in the middle of all that, he bolted. I am sure you find this as painful to hear as it is for me to tell.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.