Letter 34: How could I be silent at the present juncture? And if I cannot be silent, how am I to find utterance adequate to the circumstances, so as to make my voice not like a mere groan but rather a lamentation intelligibly indicating the greatness of the misfortune? Ah me!

How can I stay silent right now? But if I speak, how do I find words that do justice to what's happened — not just a groan, but something that captures how bad this really is? Tarsus is lost. [Tarsus: major city in Cilicia, southern Turkey — Paul the Apostle's hometown, and a key hub connecting several provinces.] That alone is devastating. But what makes it worse is that a city positioned at the crossroads of Cilicia, Cappadocia, and Assyria [three major regions spanning modern Turkey, Syria, and Iraq] has been thrown away by the recklessness of two or three people — while the rest of you hesitate, deliberate, and look around waiting for someone else to act first. It would have been better to do what doctors do. (I've been sick long enough to have plenty of medical analogies.) When a patient's pain becomes unbearable, they numb it. Maybe we should pray for that kind of numbness, so we're not crushed by grief we can't endure. But I do have one consolation in all of this: you. Thinking of your kindness genuinely eases the weight. It's like when your eyes are strained from staring at something too bright — you look at something blue or green and they recover. That's what the memory of your friendship and care does for my soul. A gentle remedy that takes the edge off the pain. And I feel this even more keenly because I know that you, personally, did everything you could. If we judge things fairly, no one can lay this disaster at your feet. The reward God has stored up for your faithfulness is no small thing. May the Lord keep you for me and for his churches — for the strengthening of our lives and the care of souls. And may he grant me the joy of seeing you again.

ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA To Eusebius, bishop of Samosata. How could I be silent at the present juncture? And if I cannot be silent, how am I to find utterance adequate to the circumstances, so as to make my voice not like a mere groan but rather a lamentation intelligibly indicating the greatness of the misfortune? Ah me! Tarsus is undone. This is a trouble grievous to be borne, but it does not come alone. It is still harder to think that a city so placed as to be united with Cilicia, Cappadocia, and Assyria, should be lightly thrown away by the madness of two or three individuals, while you are all the while hesitating, settling what to do, and looking at one another's faces. It would have been far better to do like the doctors. (I have been so long an invalid that I have no lack of illustrations of this kind.) When their patients' pain becomes excessive they produce insensibility; so should we pray that our souls may be made insensible to the pain of our troubles, that we be not put under unendurable agony. In these hard straits I do not fail to use one means of consolation. I look to your kindness; I try to make my troubles milder by my thought and recollection of you. When the eyes have looked intently on any brilliant objects it relieves them to turn again to what is blue and green; the recollection of your kindness and attention has just the same effect on my soul; it is a mild treatment that takes away my pain. I feel this the more when I reflect that you individually have done all that man could do. You have satisfactorily shown us, men, if we judge things fairly, that the catastrophe is in no way due to you personally. The reward which you have won at God's hand for your zeal for right is no small one. May the Lord grant you to me and to His churches to the improvement of life and the guidance of souls, and may He once more allow me the privilege of meeting you.

[Πρός: Εὐσεβίῳ ἐπισκόπῳ Σαμοσάτων] Πῶς ἂν σιωπήσαιμεν ἐπὶ τοῖς παροῦσιν; ἤ, τοῦτο καρτερεῖν μὴ δυνάμενοι, ἄξιόν τινα λόγον τῶν γινομένων εὕροιμεν, ὥστε μὴ στεναγμῷ προσεοικέναι τὴν φωνὴν ἡμῶν, ἀλλὰ θρήνῳ τοῦ κακοῦ τὸ βάρος ἀρκούντως διασημαίνοντι; οἴχεται ἡμῖν καὶ ἡ Ταρσός. καὶ οὐ τοῦτο μόνον δεινόν, καίπερ ἀφόρητον ὄν· ἔστι γὰρ τούτου χαλεπώτερον πόλιν τοσαύτην, οὕτως ἔχουσαν εὐκαιρίας, ὥστε Ἰσαύρους καὶ Κίλικας, Καππαδόκας τε καὶ Σύρους δι’ ἑαυτῆς συνάπτειν, ἑνὸς ἢ δυοῖν ἀπονοίας ἀνθρώπων ὀλέθρου γενέσθαι πάρεργον, μελλόντων ὑμῶν καὶ βουλευομένων καὶ πρὸς ἀλλήλους ἀποσκοπούντων. κράτιστον οὖν, κατὰ τὴν τῶν ἰατρῶν ἐπίνοιαν (πάντως δέ μοι πολλὴ ἀφθονία, διὰ τὴν σύνοικον ἀῤῥωστίαν, τῶν τοιούτων παραδειγμάτων), οἳ ἐπειδὰν τὸ τῆς ὀδύνης μέγεθος ὑπερβάλῃ, ἀναισθησίαν τῶν πόνων ἐπιτεχνῶνται τῷ κάμνοντι, καὶ ταῖς ἡμετέραις αὐτῶν ψυχαῖς, ὡς μὴ ταῖς φορήτοις ὀδύναις συνέχεσθαι, ἀναλγησίαν τῶν κακῶν συνεύξασθαι. οὐ μὴν ἀλλὰ καίπερ οὕτως ἀθλίως ἔχοντες, μιᾷ παραμυθίᾳ κεχρήμεθα, πρὸς τὴν σὴν ἀπιδεῖν ἡμερότητα, καὶ ἐκ τῆς σῆς ἐννοίας καὶ μνήμης πραῧναι τῆς ψυχῆς τὸ λυπούμενον. ὥσπερ γὰρ τοῖς ὀφθαλμοῖς, ἐπειδάν ποτε συντόνως τὰ λαμπρὰ καταβλέψωσι, φέρει τινὰ ῥᾳστώνην πρὸς τὰ κυανὰ καὶ χλοάζοντα τῶν χρωμάτων ἐπανελθεῖν, οὕτω καὶ ταῖς ἡμετέραις ψυχαῖς, οἷον πραεῖά τις ἐπαφὴ τὸ ὀδυνηρὸν ἐξαιροῦσα, ἡ μνήμη τῆς σῆς πραότητος καὶ ἐμμελείας ἐστί· καὶ μάλιστα ὅταν ἐνθυμηθῶμεν ὅτι τὸ κατὰ σεαυτὸν ἅπαν ἐπλήρωσας. ἐξ ὧν ἱκανῶς καὶ ἡμῖν τοῖς ἀνθρώποις, ἐὰν εὐγνωμόνως τὰ πράγματα κρίνωμεν, ὡς οὐδὲν ἐκ τῆς σῆς αἰτίας ἀπόλωλεν ἐνεδείξω, καὶ παρὰ Θεῷ τῆς τῶν καλῶν προθυμίας μέγαν σεαυτῷ τὸν μισθὸν κατεκτήσω. χαρίσαιτο δέ σε ἡμῖν καὶ ταῖς ἑαυτοῦ ἐκκλησίαις ὁ Κύριος, ἐπʼ ὠφελείᾳ τοῦ βίου καὶ διορθώσει τῶν ψυχῶν ἡμῶν, καὶ καταξιώσειε πάλιν τῆς ἐπωφελοῦς συντυχίας σου.