Letter 431: Theodore Studite, Letter 431; Greek heading: Ἀμμοῦν τέκνῳ.

Alas! From the very starting-line of this letter I send up a groan from the depths of my heart, and I mingle a tear with the ink at what I have heard concerning you, brother. For they say that you have cast off the holy garment of the monk and are living among laymen and going about with a woman. Oh, the pitiable report! Oh, my calamity! For your sin, child, is mine, according to the manner of a father's fellow-feeling. Where is the light of the understanding? Where is the wing of hope? Where is the shield of faith? Where is the discernment of the reasoning faculty? Where is the love toward God? Where is the flight from the world that begins here? Where is the abandonment of all things upon the earth? Where is the oversight of the monastery? Where is the contrite acceptance of your admission? Where is the grounding in the cenobitic [communal monastic] life? Where is the illuminating confession? Where are your good tears? Where is the reverent disposition? Where is the testimony given from the whole body of the brotherhood? Where is the confession made upon the sacred sanctuary-step? Where are the promises made before God and the angels as witnesses? Where is the radiant brightness of the habit [the monastic schema]? Where is the marriage understood in a spiritual sense? Where is the Lamb of God who was sacrificed for you? Where is the evangelical and brotherly rejoicing? Where is the most holy greeting from all? Where is the standing before the divine altar? Where is the divine partaking of the body and blood of Christ? Where is the whole radiant rite, the joy of angels? Where is the shining lamp? Where is the true vine? Where is the fruit-bearing planting of the Spirit? Where, for me wretched man, is my son, who was advanced ever more and more in good and shown useful to the brotherhood, the child of God, the dancer of the light, the citizen of the kingdom of heaven, the chosen vessel? How did he turn back to the things behind? How did the beloved one kick away? How was the enlightened one darkened? How did he shake off the weapons of chastity? How did he become the prey of the devil, taken alive by him for that one's will, having forsaken the good Bridegroom, the Lord of glory, the sovereign of all things? Oh, who would not groan from the depths? Who would not pity the man who has been deceived? Heaven, be astonished at this; earth, cry aloud the suffering. What has happened, brother? Were you not ashamed at least before those who see you? Did you not blush before the very air? Were you not disgusted at the stench of the all-accursed sin? Have you a mind? Are you indeed alive? Do you gaze upon the sun? Do you behold the moon? Do you see the stars? It is not, it is not possible to tell how great the sin is, how great the darkness, how great the irrationality (and would that the matter stopped there, for then the wretchedness would have some measure)—but rather that there is a judgment, brother, inescapable: eternal fire, outer and lightless darkness, gnashing of teeth, all the other places of punishment in which lies the rendering of account, and that without end unto the ages. And I have not yet spoken of the falling-away from the good things which you have procured for yourself. What is that good? To be with God, joy unspeakable, life unending, gladness everlasting, the delight of paradise, the illumination of the Holy Trinity, every other blessedness both spoken and conceived. Come, then, come, child, return to your senses, be called back, be made new again, throw off the cords of sin which the enemy has wound about you, be cut away from Eve [the woman who has drawn him into sin], draw near to the most forgiving and most loving Jesus. Plainly he cries out: Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened with your sins. He meets you, embraces you, takes you in, brings no charge concerning former things, holds the feast once again, saves the one who has lived as a prodigal. Yes, I beg you, child, listen, be set ablaze, wound the one who has wounded you. Come, then, come quickly to us sinners; I lay down my soul for you, I am the surety of your salvation, I will heal you with gentle remedies, I, wretched as I am, with God's help will embrace you beyond what I did before. Only run, only do not stand still any longer, but leaving Eve to amuse herself by herself (or, if indeed she will listen in a godly way, having placed her into a convent), present yourself to God and to us. I solemnly charge you, therefore, before God and the elect angels, that, hearing these things, you change yourself, hastening to us before the end overtakes you, before the inescapable sentence shuts itself against you.