Letter 20: I too do not write often to you, but not more seldom than you do to me, though many have travelled hitherward from your part of the world. If you had sent a letter by every one of them, one after the other, there would have been nothing to prevent my seeming to be actually in your company, and enjoying it as though we had been together, so unint...

From: Basil of Caesarea To: Leontius the Sophist [a prominent Greek rhetorician and teacher, one of Basil's educated friends] Date: ~363 AD Context: A teasing letter about their mutual failure to write, ending with a gift of Basil's first theological work. I don't write to you very often, I'll admit — but no less often than you write to me, even though plenty of people have traveled here from your part of the world. If you'd sent a letter with every single one of them, it would have felt like we were practically together, so steady was the stream of arrivals. But not one letter. Why don't you write? For a Sophist, writing should be effortless. If your hand is tired, you don't even need to write it yourself — someone else can take dictation. You just need your tongue. And even if there's no one around to listen, a Sophist's tongue will talk to itself. Honestly, the tongue of a Sophist and an Athenian is about as likely to stay quiet as the nightingales when spring gets them singing. In my case, the mountain of responsibilities I'm buried under might excuse my silence. And the fact that constant exposure to plain, everyday speech has probably ruined my style makes me hesitant to write to Sophists like you, who are bound to be exacting and unforgiving unless they hear something worthy of their wisdom. You, on the other hand, should seize every chance to make your voice heard abroad — you're the finest speaker among the Hellenes I know, and I think I know the best of them. There really is no excuse for your silence. But enough of that. I'm sending you my writings against Eunomius [Eunomius of Cyzicus, a leading Arian theologian who argued that the Son was completely unlike the Father — Basil's Against Eunomius, written ~363–365, was his first major theological work]. Whether they're a student exercise or something a bit more serious, I leave to your judgment. You personally don't need them anymore, but I hope they'll be a useful weapon when you encounter stubborn opponents. I say this not because I'm confident in the strength of my argument, but because I know you well enough to trust that you can make something powerful out of even modest material.

ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA To Leontius the Sophist. I too do not write often to you, but not more seldom than you do to me, though many have travelled hitherward from your part of the world. If you had sent a letter by every one of them, one after the other, there would have been nothing to prevent my seeming to be actually in your company, and enjoying it as though we had been together, so uninterrupted has been the stream of arrivals. But why do you not write? It is no trouble to a Sophist to write. Nay, if your hand is tired, you need not even write; another will do that for you. Only your tongue is needed. And though it does not speak to me, it may assuredly speak to one of your companions. If nobody is with you, it will talk by itself. Certainly the tongue of a Sophist and of an Athenian is as little likely to be quiet as the nightingales when the spring stirs them to song. In my own case, the mass of business in which I am now engaged may perhaps afford some excuse for my lack of letters. And perhaps the fact of my style having been spoilt by constant familiarity with common speech may make me somewhat hesitate to address Sophists like you, who are certain to be annoyed and unmerciful, unless you hear something worthy of your wisdom. You, on the other hand, ought assuredly to use every opportunity of making your voice heard abroad, for you are the best speaker of all the Hellenes that I know; and I think I know the most renowned among you; so that there really is no excuse for your silence. But enough on this point. I have sent you my writings against Eunomius. Whether they are to be called child's play, or something a little more serious, I leave you to judge. So far as concerns yourself, I do not think you stand any longer in need of them; but I hope they will be no unworthy weapon against any perverse men with whom you may fall in. I do not say this so much because I have confidence in the force of my treatise, as because I know well that you are a man likely to make a little go a long way. If anything strikes you as weaker than it ought to be, pray have no hesitation in showing me the error. The chief difference between a friend and a flatterer is this; the flatterer speaks to please, the friend will not leave out even what is disagreeable. About this page 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/3202020.htm>. Contact information. The editor of New Advent is Kevin Knight. My email address is feedback732 at newadvent.org. (To help fight spam, this address might change occasionally.) Regrettably, I can't reply to every letter, but I greatly appreciate your feedback — especially notifications about typographical errors and inappropriate ads.