Letter 33

UnknownAlethius, (brother of Florentius)|c. 417 AD|paulinus nola
From: Paulinus, bishop of Nola
To: Alethius, bishop (brother of Florentius)
Date: ~417 AD
Context: Paulinus thanks Alethius for a letter delivered by the monk Victor, and responds to a request for spiritual writing with characteristic self-deprecation.

My blessed and venerable brother Alethius,

Thanks be to God, who has made the fragrance of his grace in you known to me through the eloquence of your letter. It came to me through our dear brother in God, Victor — a man whose service to God consists in serving the bonds of brotherly love. Year after year he makes the long journey between us, tirelessly carrying letters across the vast distances that separate us, offering the physical labor of his devout travels in the service of spiritual affection. Through this brother and fellow servant in the Lord — a man we share as a kindred spirit — I received a gift as sweet as it was unexpected: your letter. In it, the good treasure of your heart [Matthew 12:35] was made plain, and rightly did I rejoice at the blessing of your greeting, for in the mirror of your most pure words I could see the inner man, and I recognized how much help the Lord is providing me through you.

But in the tasks you have asked me to undertake — generous as your estimation of my poverty is — you have shown the holy confidence of a perfectly pure love. Yet you were led astray, I think, by the reputation of the Lord's work in me, and you assumed that because God has inspired in us the desire for our own redemption, we must also possess a wealth of talent and eloquence. A noble desire, deceived by generous hopes and empty opinions. For where would I find enough water to match your thirst, or a cup worthy of your lips? Where would I find enough bread to feed you? You will only go hungrier for having asked — you who hunger for the bread of light and life found in the Gospel, yet come knocking in the dead of this world's night at the meager pantry of a drowsy, impoverished friend. You who thirst for rivers of living water [John 7:38] are scratching at a dry little vein and trying to squeeze moisture from pumice. Either there is no spring within me at all — just the dryness of ignorance — or if there is one, it runs bitter with the taste of my failings. But may your prayers and letters, generously and often bestowed, cause whatever is within me to overflow and grow sweet — sweetened by the wood of your faith and the pleasantness of your words. Then, like a prophet's rod striking the rock of my heart, the word of God which you, as a good servant, draw from your faithful lips may cause even my stony interior to pour forth something useful.

Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.

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