Letter 116: You write seldom, and your letters are short, either because you shrink from writing or from avoiding the satiety that comes from excess; or perhaps to train yourself to curt speech. I, indeed, am never satisfied and however abundant be your communication, it is less than my desire, because I wish to know every detail about you. How are you as t...

You hardly ever write to me, and when you do, you keep it short. Maybe you don't like writing, or maybe you're afraid of boring me, or maybe you're just practicing being brief. Whatever the reason — I'm never satisfied. No matter how much you write, I always want more. I want to know everything about how you're doing. How's your health? How's your spiritual discipline going? Are you still committed to your original path, or have you changed course? If nothing had changed, I wouldn't need long letters. "I'm fine, hope you're fine" would have been enough. But I'm hearing things I'm almost embarrassed to repeat — that you've abandoned the way of life your blessed forefathers followed, gone over to your paternal grandfather's path instead, and would rather be a Brettanius than a Firminius. [Basil means Firminius has left his family's tradition of Christian asceticism to pursue a military career, following his grandfather Brettanius's example instead.] I desperately want to hear about this from you directly — what reasons could possibly have led you into this kind of life? You've said nothing, probably because you're ashamed of what you're planning. So let me be blunt: don't pursue anything that makes you feel ashamed. If this idea has taken hold of you, let it go. Come back to yourself. Say a permanent goodbye to soldiering, weapons, and the grinding life of the camp. Come home. Your forefathers before you understood that a respected position in your own city is more than enough for a comfortable, distinguished life. And I'm confident you can achieve that easily — you have natural talent, and frankly, not much competition. So here's what I need from you: if you never actually intended to join the army, or if you've already dropped the idea, write and tell me immediately. But if — God forbid — you're still set on it, don't bother writing. I'll find out soon enough on my own. I don't want a letter delivering that news.

ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA To Firminius. You write seldom, and your letters are short, either because you shrink from writing or from avoiding the satiety that comes from excess; or perhaps to train yourself to curt speech. I, indeed, am never satisfied and however abundant be your communication, it is less than my desire, because I wish to know every detail about you. How are you as to health? How as to ascetic discipline? Do you persevere in your original purpose? Or have you formed some new plan, changing your mind according to circumstances? Had you remained the same, I should not have wanted a great number of letters. I should have been quite satisfied with I am quite well and I hope you are quite well. But I hear what I am ashamed to say, that you have deserted the ranks of your blessed forefathers, and deserted to your paternal grandfather, and are anxious to be rather a Brettanius than a Firminius. I am very anxious to hear about this, and to learn the reasons which have induced you to take to this kind of life. You have yourself been silent; ashamed, I suppose, of your intentions, and therefore I must implore you not to entertain any project, which can be associated with shame. If any such idea has entered into your mind, put it from you, come to yourself again, bid a long farewell to soldiering and arms and the toils of the camp. Return home thinking it, as your forefathers thought before you, quite enough for ease of life and all possible distinction to hold a high place in your city. This, I am sure, you will be able to achieve without difficulty, when I consider your natural gifts and the small number of your rivals. If, then, this was not your original intention, or if after forming it you have rejected it, let me know at once. If, on the other hand, which God forbid, you remain in the same mind, let the trouble come self announced. I do not want a letter. 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/3202116.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.