Letter 1
Faustus, bishop, to the most beloved and reverend Sidonius.
Your reputation arrived in Riez before your letter did, which is only proper — the fame of a writer ought to precede his correspondence, or what is the point of fame? And the letter, when it came, confirmed everything that reputation had promised. You write with the kind of skill that only careful practice produces, and with a lightness of touch that only real confidence allows.
I have been thinking about the relationship between literary style and theological truth — a problem that occupies anyone in our position, since we were formed in the classical tradition and now serve a faith that views ornament with some suspicion. My conclusion: the suspicion is misplaced, but only if the ornament is in the service of truth. A well-made sentence that states a falsehood is more dangerous than a clumsy sentence that states a truth, because it is more likely to be believed. But a well-made sentence that states a truth is simply a truth more likely to reach a reader.
We need both things. We need the truth that comes from careful theology — from thinking about what the faith actually requires us to say about God and about the human person. And we need the skill to say it in a way that a reader will remember and carry with them.
I would very much like to continue this conversation.
Your brother in Christ and in letters,
Faustus of Riez
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.