Letter 8: (Written to S. Basil shortly after his Ordination as Priest, probably toward the end of a.d. 362.) I approve the beginning of your letter; but what is there of yours that I do not approve?
Gregory to Basil.
I approve the beginning of your letter -- but then, what is there of yours that I do not approve? And you stand convicted of having written just as I might have, for I too was forced into the rank of the priesthood. I was never eager for it.
We are trustworthy witnesses to each other, if ever any men were, of our love for a humble and lowly philosophy. But perhaps it would have been better if this had not happened -- though I hardly know what to say, as long as I remain ignorant of the purpose of the Holy Spirit. Since it has come about, however, we must bear it. At least so it seems clear to me, especially when we consider the times, which are bringing so many heretical voices down upon us. We must not put to shame either the hopes of those who have entrusted us with this office, or our own lives.
Human translation — New Advent (NPNF / ANF series)
Related Letters
(An attack had been made in Gregory's presence on the orthodoxy of Basil in respect of the Deity of God the Holy Ghost; and in this letter he gives his friend an account of the way in which he had defended him. Unfortunately Basil was not pleased with the letter, taking it as intended to convey reproach under the guise of friendly sympathy.) Fro...
Had you been for a long time considering how best you could reply to my letter about yours, you could not in my judgment have acquitted yourself better than by writing as you have written now. You call me a sophist, and you allege that it is a sophist's business to make small things great and great things small. And you maintain that the object ...
Are you living at Athens, Basil? Have you forgotten yourself? The sons of the Cæsareans could not endure to hear these things.
(Perhaps about a.d. 357 or 358; in answer to a letter which is not now extant.) I have failed, I confess, to keep my promise. I had engaged even at Athens, at the time of our friendship and intimate connection there (for I can find no better word for it), to join you in a life of philosophy.
Will you not give over, Basil, packing this sacred haunt of the Muses with Cappadocians, and these redolent of the frost and snow and all Cappadocia's good things? They have almost made me a Cappadocian too, always chanting their I salute you. I must endure, since it is Basil who commands.