Section 3

Therefore, the more distinguished he becomes in the present life, the more he needs this kind of training. If he spends his life in royal courts, there are many pagans there, many philosophers, and many people swollen with the glory of the present life, as though the place were full of people suffering from dropsy. A royal court is something like this: everyone is swollen and inflamed, and those who are not yet like that are eager to become so. Think, then, what a great thing it would be for your son to enter such a place like an excellent physician, equipped with instruments capable of reducing each person’s inflammation. He could approach each one and speak with him, restoring the diseased body to health by applying medicines drawn from the Scriptures and pouring out words of true philosophy.

For with whom will the monk converse—with the wall and the roof? With the wilderness and the valleys? With the birds and the trees? He therefore does not have so great a need of this sort of teaching. Yet he still makes it his task to attain it, not so much in order to instruct others as to instruct himself. Those who move about in the present world have a much greater need of this teaching, because they face more occasions for sin than the monk does.

And if you wish to know, such a person will be more useful even in the world itself. Everyone will respect him because of these teachings when they see him standing in the fire without being burned and having no desire for office. Then he will obtain authority precisely when he does not desire it, and he will be more respected even by the emperor. A person like this cannot remain hidden. Among many healthy people, one healthy person may pass unnoticed; but when one healthy person is among many who are sick, his reputation quickly reaches the emperor’s ears, and he may be set over many peoples. Knowing these things, then, “bring up your children in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.”

“But what if someone is poor?” Let him be poor. He will be no more insignificant than the person who moves in royal courts merely because he himself is not at court. He will be admired, and he will quickly attain an authority people grant freely rather than one bestowed by appointment. For if certain worthless pagan men—mere “dogs”—take up their cheap philosophy, or rather not even the philosophy itself but only its name, put on a threadbare cloak, grow their hair long, and thereby impress many people, how much more will the person who is truly a philosopher? If a false appearance, a mere shadow of philosophy, has such power to attract, what will happen if we love true and genuine philosophy? Will not everyone honor such people and confidently entrust houses, wives, and children to them?

But there is no such philosopher now—no, there is not. That is why it is difficult to find an example. There are such people among the monks, but no longer among those living in the world. That there are such monks I could show from many examples, but I will mention one among many. You surely know and have heard of—and some of you have even seen—the man I am about to name: the admirable Julian. He was a countryman, of humble condition and humble birth, with no experience at all of secular education, yet filled with an unaffected philosophy. Whenever he entered the cities, which happened only rarely, no such crowd gathered for the arrival of orators, sophists, or anyone else. But why say only this? Is not his very name still sung with greater glory than the names of all kings?

If this happened in the present world—the world in which the Master promised us no earthly good and said that we are strangers—consider how great the blessings laid up for us in heaven will be. If, where they were sojourners, they enjoyed such honor, how much glory will they enjoy where their true city is? If, where He promised tribulation, they received such respect, how great will their rest be where He truly promises honor?

But would you like us to show examples of people living in the world as well? At present we do not have such examples. Perhaps there are laypeople who are good, but they have not reached the highest philosophy. So I will give you examples from the saints of old. How many had wives and raised children and yet were in no way inferior—in no way inferior—to those just mentioned? Now, however, this is no longer common because of “the present distress,” as this blessed Apostle says. Whom, then, would you like me to name? Noah or Abraham? The son of one or the other? Or Joseph? Or would you like us to turn to the prophets—Moses, I mean, or Isaiah?