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 CaesareaCæsarius, brother of Gregory|c. 367 AD|basil caesarea
friendshipgrief deathillnessmonasticismproperty economicsslavery captivity
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.

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

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