Letter 3: 1. That God gives more than we ask Him for, Ephesians 3:20 and that He often grants us things which eye has not seen nor ear heard, neither have they entered into the heart of man, 1 Corinthians 2:9 I knew indeed before from the mystic declaration of the sacred volumes; but now, dearest Rufinus, I have had proof of it in my own case. For I who f...

To Rufinus the Monk That God gives more than we ask of him, and that he often grants us things "which eye has not seen nor ear heard, neither have they entered into the heart of man" -- I knew this before from the sacred Scriptures. But now, my dearest Rufinus, I have living proof of it. I who thought it wildly optimistic even to hope for an exchange of letters that might counterfeit your presence in the flesh -- I now hear that you are penetrating the remotest corners of Egypt, visiting the monks, making the rounds of God's family on earth. If only the Lord Jesus Christ would transport me to you the way Philip was transported to the eunuch, or Habakkuk to Daniel! With what a fierce embrace I'd seize your neck, how passionately I'd kiss the mouth that has so often shared with me in folly and in wisdom alike. But since I'm unworthy -- not of having you come to me, but of going to you -- and since my wretched body, fragile even when healthy, has been smashed by one illness after another, I'm sending this letter in my place, hoping it will haul you here to me, caught in the net of friendship. The first hint of this incredible news came from our brother Heliodorus. I wanted to believe it but didn't dare, especially since he'd only heard it secondhand and the sheer strangeness of the report undermined its credibility. My hopes seesawed and my mind wavered -- until an Alexandrian monk, previously sent by the faithful devotion of his people to the Egyptian confessors (martyrs already in spirit if not yet in fact), arrived and made me take the story seriously. Even then, I admit, I still hesitated: he didn't know your name or your homeland, though what he said lined up with the earlier rumor. Finally the truth broke through in full force, as a steady stream of travelers confirmed it: Rufinus is at Nitria. He has reached the community of the blessed Macarius. At that point I abandoned all my doubts and then -- only then -- genuinely cursed being ill. If my wasted, broken-down body hadn't held me back, neither the summer heat nor a dangerous sea voyage would have slowed the headlong rush of my affection. Believe me, brother: I look forward to seeing you more than a storm-battered sailor looks for his harbor, more than parched fields ache for rain, more than an anxious mother perched on the curved shoreline strains her eyes for her son. After that sudden whirlwind tore me from your side, ripping apart the bonds of friendship that held us together -- "The dark storm-cloud hung above my head; on every side, nothing but sea and sky" -- I drifted, not knowing where to go. Thrace, Pontus, Bithynia, the length of Galatia and Cappadocia, Cilicia too with its blistering heat -- each in turn broke me down. At last Syria presented itself as a secure harbor to a shipwrecked man. Here, after enduring every conceivable form of illness, I lost one of my two eyes: Innocent, the other half of my soul, was snatched away by a sudden fever. The one eye I still possess, my everything, is our Evagrius -- on whom my constant infirmities have landed as yet another burden. We also had with us Hylas, the servant of the saintly Melania, who by his spotless conduct had wiped out the stain of his former servitude. His death ripped open a wound that hadn't yet healed. But since the apostle forbids us to mourn for those who sleep, and since my overwhelming grief has been softened by the joyful news that has since reached me, I recount this so that if you haven't heard it, you may learn it, and if you already know, you may rejoice with me. Your friend Bonosus -- or to speak more accurately, mine as much as yours -- is now climbing the ladder Jacob saw in his dream. He is bearing his cross, giving no thought to tomorrow, never looking back at what he has left behind. He sows in tears to reap in joy. As Moses once raised the serpent in the wilderness as a sign, so Bonosus does it in reality. This is a true story, and it puts to shame the fabricated wonders of Greek and Roman literature. Here you have a young man educated alongside us in all the polished accomplishments of the world, a man of abundant wealth and social standing second to none among his peers -- yet he abandons his mother, his sisters, his beloved brother, and settles like a new gardener of Eden on a perilous island, the sea roaring around its reefs, its rough crags, bare rock, and desolate appearance making it more terrifying still. No farmer, no monk lives there. Even little Onesimus -- you know the one -- whose affectionate company he used to enjoy like a brother's, has not followed him into this tremendous solitude. Alone on the island -- or rather not alone, because Christ is with him -- he beholds the glory of God, which even the apostles saw only in the wilderness. He sees no walled cities, true, but he has enrolled his name in the city that matters. Sackcloth disfigures his limbs, but dressed like that he'll be all the sooner caught up to meet Christ in the clouds. No lovely stream supplies his needs, but from the Lord's own side he drinks the water of life. Paint this scene before your eyes, dear friend, and with every faculty of your mind picture it fully. When you grasp the magnitude of the fighter's struggle, then you'll be able to praise his victory. All around the island the furious sea roars, and the overhanging cliffs along its winding shores echo with the crash of waves. No grass softens the ground; there are no shady groves, no fertile fields. Sheer precipices surround his fearsome dwelling as though it were a prison. But he -- unbothered, unafraid, armed from head to foot with the apostle's armor -- now listens to God through reading the Scriptures, now speaks to God in prayer. And perhaps, while he lingers on his island, he sees visions like those John once saw on Patmos. What traps, do you think, is the devil now setting for him? What strategies is he cooking up? Perhaps, remembering his old tricks, he'll try hunger. But the answer has already been given: "Man shall not live by bread alone." Perhaps he'll dangle wealth and fame. The reply: "Those who desire to be rich fall into a trap," and "All my boasting is in Christ." He may come when fasting has exhausted the body, and rack it with disease. But the apostle's cry will drive him off: "When I am weak, then I am strong," and "My strength is made perfect in weakness." He'll threaten death. The response: "I desire to depart and be with Christ." He'll hurl his fiery darts, but they will land on the shield of faith. In short: Satan will attack, but Christ will defend. Thanks be to you, Lord Jesus, that in your service I have one who can pray to you on my behalf. You to whom all hearts are open, you who probe the secrets of the mind, you see the prophet shut up in the belly of the fish in the middle of the sea. You know, then, how he and I grew up together from tender infancy to vigorous manhood, nursed by the same women, carried in the arms of the same attendants. You know that after studying together in Rome we shared the same house and the same meals on the half-savage banks of the Rhine. You know it was I who first began to seek to serve you. Remember, I beg you, that this warrior of yours was once a raw recruit alongside me. I keep before my eyes your own declaration: "Whoever teaches and does not practice shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven." May he enjoy the crown of virtue. May his daily martyrdoms earn him a place following the Lamb in white robes. "In my Father's house are many mansions," and "one star differs from another star in glory." Grant me the strength to raise my head to the level of the saints' heels! I willed it, but he carried it through. So pardon me for failing to keep my resolve, and reward him according to what he deserves. I've probably gone on too long, saying more than the brief compass of a letter normally allows. But that's always what happens when I have to speak in praise of our dear Bonosus. However -- to return to my starting point -- I beg you not to let me slip entirely out of your sight and out of your mind. A friend is long sought, hard to find, and harder still to keep. Let those who want to be dazzled by gold ride around in splendor, their very luggage glittering with silver. Love can't be bought, and affection has no price tag. The friendship that can end was never real. Farewell in Christ.

To Rufinus the Monk. Written from Antioch, 374 A.D., to Rufinus in Egypt. Jerome narrates his travels and the events which have taken place since his arrival in Syria, particularly the deaths of Innocent and Hylas (§3). He also describes the life of Bonosus, who was now a hermit on an island in the Adriatic (§4). The main object of the letter is to induce Rufinus to come to Syria. 1. That God gives more than we ask Him for, Ephesians 3:20 and that He often grants us things which eye has not seen nor ear heard, neither have they entered into the heart of man, 1 Corinthians 2:9 I knew indeed before from the mystic declaration of the sacred volumes; but now, dearest Rufinus, I have had proof of it in my own case. For I who fancied it too bold a wish to be allowed by an exchange of letters to counterfeit to myself your presence in the flesh, hear that you are penetrating the remotest parts of Egypt, visiting the monks and going round God's family upon earth. Oh, if only the Lord Jesus Christ would suddenly transport me to you as Philip was transported to the eunuch, Acts 8:26-30 and Habakkuk to Daniel, with what a close embrace would I clasp your neck, how fondly would I press kisses upon that mouth which has so often joined with me of old in error or in wisdom. But as I am unworthy (not that you should so come to me but) that I should so come to you, and because my poor body, weak even when well, has been shattered by frequent illnesses; I send this letter to meet you instead of coming myself, in the hope that it may bring you hither to me caught in the meshes of love's net. 2. My first joy at such unexpected good tidings was due to our brother, Heliodorus. I desired to be sure of it, but did not dare to feel sure, especially as he told me that he had only heard it from some one else, and as the strangeness of the news impaired the credit of the story. Once more my wishes hovered in uncertainty and my mind wavered, till an Alexandrian monk who had some time previously been sent over by the dutiful zeal of the people to the Egyptian confessors (in will already martyrs ), impelled me by his presence to believe the tidings. Even then, I must admit I still hesitated. For on the one hand he knew nothing either of your name or country: yet on the other what he said seemed likely to be true, agreeing as it did with the hint which had already reached me. At last the truth broke upon me in all its fullness, for a constant stream of persons passing through brought the report: Rufinus is at Nitria, and has reached the abode of the blessed Macarius. At this point I cast away all that restrained my belief, and then first really grieved to find myself ill. Had it not been that my wasted and enfeebled frame fettered my movements, neither the summer heat nor the dangerous voyage should have had power to retard the rapid steps of affection. Believe me, brother, I look forward to seeing you more than the storm-tossed mariner looks for his haven, more than the thirsty fields long for the showers, more than the anxious mother sitting on the curving shore expects her son. 3. After that sudden whirlwind dragged me from your side, severing with its impious wrench the bonds of affection in which we were knit together, The dark blue raincloud lowered o'er my head: On all sides were the seas, on all the sky. I wandered about, uncertain where to go. Thrace, Pontus, Bithynia, the whole of Galatia and Cappadocia, Cilicia also with its burning heat, one after another shattered my energies. At last Syria presented itself to me as a most secure harbor to a shipwrecked man. Here, after undergoing every possible kind of sickness, I lost one of my two eyes; for Innocent, the half of my soul, was taken away from me by a sudden attack of fever. The one eye which I now enjoy, and which is all in all to me, is our Evagrius, upon whom I with my constant infirmities have come as an additional burden. We had with us also Hylas, the servant of the holy Melanium, who by his stainless conduct had wiped out the taint of his previous servitude. His death opened afresh the wound which had not yet healed. But as the apostle's words forbid us to mourn for those who sleep, 1 Thessalonians 4:13 and as my excess of grief has been tempered by the joyful news that has since come to me, I recount this last, that, if you have not heard it, you may learn it; and that, if you know it already, you may rejoice over it with me. 4. Bonosus, your friend, or, to speak more truly, mine as well as yours, is now climbing the ladder foreshown in Jacob's dream. Genesis 28:12 He is bearing his cross, neither taking thought for the morrow Matthew 6:34 nor looking back at what he has left. Luke 9:62 He is sowing in tears that he may reap in joy. As Moses in a type so he in reality is lifting up the serpent in the wilderness. Numbers 21:9 This is a true story, and it may well put to shame the lying marvels described by Greek and Roman pens. For here you have a youth educated with us in the refining accomplishments of the world, with abundance of wealth, and in rank inferior to none of his associates; yet he forsakes his mother, his sisters, and his dearly loved brother, and settles like a new tiller of Eden on a dangerous island, with the sea roaring round its reefs; while its rough crags, bare rocks, and desolate aspect make it more terrible still. No peasant or monk is to be found there. Even the little Onesimus you know of, in whose kisses he used to rejoice as in those of a brother, in this tremendous solitude no longer remains at his side. Alone upon the island — or rather not alone, for Christ is with him — he sees the glory of God, which even the apostles saw not save in the desert. He beholds, it is true, no embattled towns, but he has enrolled his name in the new city. Garments of sackcloth disfigure his limbs, yet so clad he will be the sooner caught up to meet Christ in the clouds. 1 Thessalonians 4:17 No watercourse pleasant to the view supplies his wants, but from the Lord's side he drinks the water of life. Place all this before your eyes, dear friend, and with all the faculties of your mind picture to yourself the scene. When you realize the effort of the fighter then you will be able to praise his victory. Round the entire island roars the frenzied sea, while the beetling crags along its winding shores resound as the billows beat against them. No grass makes the ground green; there are no shady copses and no fertile fields. Precipitous cliffs surround his dreadful abode as if it were a prison. But he, careless, fearless, and armed from head to foot with the apostle's armor, Ephesians 6:13-17 now listens to God by reading the Scriptures, now speaks to God as he prays to the Lord; and it may be that, while he lingers in the island, he sees some vision such as that once seen by John. Revelation 1:9-10 5. What snares, think you, is the devil now weaving? What stratagems is he preparing? Perchance, mindful of his old trick, he will try to tempt Bonosus with hunger. But he has been answered already: Man shall not live by bread alone. Matthew 4:4 Perchance he will lay before him wealth and fame. But it shall be said to him: They that desire to be rich fall into a trap and temptations, 1 Timothy 6:9 and For me all glorying is in Christ. 1 Corinthians 1:31 He will come, it may be, when the limbs are weary with fasting, and rack them with the pangs of disease; but the cry of the apostle will repel him: When I am weak, then am I strong, and My strength is made perfect in weakness. He will hold out threats of death; but the reply will be: I desire to depart and to be with Christ. Philippians 1:23 He will brandish his fiery darts, but they will be received on the shield of faith. Ephesians 6:16 In a word, Satan will assail him, but Christ will defend. Thanks be to You, Lord Jesus, that in Your day I have one able to pray to You for me. To You all hearts are open, You search the secrets of the heart, You see the prophet shut up in the fish's belly in the midst of the sea. Jonah 2:1-2 You know then how he and I grew up together from tender infancy to vigorous manhood, how we were fostered in the bosoms of the same nurses, and carried in the arms of the same bearers; and how after studying together at Rome we lodged in the same house and shared the same food by the half savage banks of the Rhine. You know, too, that it was I who first began to seek to serve You. Remember, I beseech You, that this warrior of Yours was once a raw recruit with me. I have before me the declaration of Your majesty: Whosoever shall teach and not do shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 5:19 May he enjoy the crown of virtue, and in return for his daily martyrdoms may he follow the Lamb robed in white raiment! Revelation 14:4 For in my Father's house are many mansions, John 14:2 and one star differs from another star in glory. 1 Corinthians 15:41 Give me strength to raise my head to a level with the saints' heels! I willed, but he performed. Therefore, pardon me for failing to keep my resolve, and reward him with the reward of his deserts. I may perhaps have been tedious, and have said more than the short compass of a letter usually allows; but this, I find, is always the case with me when I have to say anything in praise of our dear Bonosus. 6. However, to return to the point from which I set out, I beseech you do not let me pass wholly out of sight and out of mind. A friend is long sought, hardly found, and with difficulty kept. Let those who will, allow gold to dazzle them and be borne along in splendor, their very baggage glittering with gold and silver. Love is not to be purchased, and affection has no price. The friendship which can cease has never been real. Farewell in Christ. About this page Source. Translated by W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 6. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1893.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3001003.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.