Letter 474: What does it mean to be a Christian, Markos?
Isidore of Pelusium→Markos|c. 412 AD|Isidore of Pelusium|To Markos (recipient)|AI-assisted
monasticism
To Markos
Why is it, you asked, that wine does not affect all who drink it in the same way, but makes some genial and others hot-tempered, some friendly and others quarrelsome, some gentle and others savage? Well then, since you compel us to reason about nature too, I think these things come about either from the disposition of the body, the causes of such symptoms being either increased or diminished by the wine, or from those motions of the soul that are hidden from the many. For since wine is, of liquids alone, a shaper of character, it is blended in a certain way with the dispositions of those who use it. For whatever character it is brought to bear upon, it brings out passions of that same kind, not manufacturing what does not exist, but laying bare what is concealed. For having stripped off the feigned character, it reveals what was hidden. Hence this very thing has passed into a proverb, with many saying: "In wine there is truth." For those who seemed to plume themselves on a reputation for gravity it has often shown to be blurters-out of secrets, and it has brought them to speak the very thing that would be better left unspoken; while those who, out of hatred of wickedness, had often been turned aside into anger, it has exposed as being in fact mild and gentle, doing away in the one case with the reputation for gravity, and in the other with the cause assigned to the anger. For it does not manufacture the things that are not, but publishes abroad the things that are, yet were concealed.
I greatly marvel how a disease so tyrannical and untamed [the habit of meddling in and condemning others' affairs], devoid of pleasure yet bringing forth punishment, has mastered every age, subdued every rank, and ruined all good order. For each man, passing over his own faults, which are very great and often beyond pardon, busily pries into his neighbors' faults, which are lesser, and often even deserving of pardon; and he grieves when reckoning up his own concerns, but exults when discussing the affairs of others, and spends his own time in meddling with the affairs of others and condemning them. For himself he provides even defenses that do not exist, but toward his neighbors he sits as a bitter and inexorable judge, even though they may appear to be rich in reasonable defenses. Those, therefore, who wish to devise a cure for such a disease must turn the eye of the soul away from others' transgressions to their own, and accustom the tongue to speak censoriously not against their neighbors but against themselves. For this brings forth righteousness (for "declare you your sins first, that you may be justified" [Isaiah 43:26]), whereas the other gives birth to a greater condemnation. For it is a terrible thing, and beyond all folly, that those who commit great faults should rebuke those who do nothing wrong, or only small things.
Why is it, you asked, that wine does not affect all who drink it in the same way, but makes some genial and others hot-tempered, some friendly and others quarrelsome, some gentle and others savage? Well then, since you compel us to reason about nature too, I think these things come about either from the disposition of the body, the causes of such symptoms being either increased or diminished by the wine, or from those motions of the soul that are hidden from the many. For since wine is, of liquids alone, a shaper of character, it is blended in a certain way with the dispositions of those who use it. For whatever character it is brought to bear upon, it brings out passions of that same kind, not manufacturing what does not exist, but laying bare what is concealed. For having stripped off the feigned character, it reveals what was hidden. Hence this very thing has passed into a proverb, with many saying: "In wine there is truth." For those who seemed to plume themselves on a reputation for gravity it has often shown to be blurters-out of secrets, and it has brought them to speak the very thing that would be better left unspoken; while those who, out of hatred of wickedness, had often been turned aside into anger, it has exposed as being in fact mild and gentle, doing away in the one case with the reputation for gravity, and in the other with the cause assigned to the anger. For it does not manufacture the things that are not, but publishes abroad the things that are, yet were concealed.
I greatly marvel how a disease so tyrannical and untamed [the habit of meddling in and condemning others' affairs], devoid of pleasure yet bringing forth punishment, has mastered every age, subdued every rank, and ruined all good order. For each man, passing over his own faults, which are very great and often beyond pardon, busily pries into his neighbors' faults, which are lesser, and often even deserving of pardon; and he grieves when reckoning up his own concerns, but exults when discussing the affairs of others, and spends his own time in meddling with the affairs of others and condemning them. For himself he provides even defenses that do not exist, but toward his neighbors he sits as a bitter and inexorable judge, even though they may appear to be rich in reasonable defenses. Those, therefore, who wish to devise a cure for such a disease must turn the eye of the soul away from others' transgressions to their own, and accustom the tongue to speak censoriously not against their neighbors but against themselves. For this brings forth righteousness (for "declare you your sins first, that you may be justified" [Isaiah 43:26]), whereas the other gives birth to a greater condemnation. For it is a terrible thing, and beyond all folly, that those who commit great faults should rebuke those who do nothing wrong, or only small things.
AI-assisted translation - This translation was produced with AI assistance and has not been peer-reviewed. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek below for scholarly use.