To Nomus the Patrician

I have written you two letters, in fact I think three, without getting any answer. I had wanted to say nothing more, but to know my own place and the greatness of high office, and only to beg you to tell me the reason for your silence. Truly, I do not know what offense I can have given your excellency. We do wrong unwillingly as well as willingly, and sometimes we have no idea how we are doing wrong. So I beg your greatness to remember the divine laws, which plainly charge us, “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone,” and to be pleased to make clear to me where the annoyance began. Then I may either prove myself innocent, or, once I know where I went wrong, ask your pardon. Trusting the witness of my conscience, I hope for the first. Greatness of spirit adorns everyone, and not least those who, like your excellency, are trained in outside learning as well as instructed in divine principles. They hear the apostolic laws crying aloud, “Do not let the sun go down on your anger,” and they remember the words of Homer: [a]

I have written this not as though giving you information, but to remind a very busy man. And I do it remembering the law of the Lord, who says, “So if you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go on your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift.” In obedience to these words I have thought it right to greet your excellency through the most pious bishops, and to urge you to care for the peace of the churches. For they are indeed overwhelmed by a great storm. [d]