Exhortation to the Greeks 12.118

Let us flee, then, from custom; let us flee it like a dangerous headland, or the threat of Charybdis, or the Sirens of myth. It strangles the human being, turns him from the truth, leads him away from life; it is a snare, a pit, a trench; custom is a greedy evil. “Keep the ship clear of that smoke and wave.” Let us flee, shipmates, let us flee this wave; it belches fire; it is a wicked island heaped with bones and corpses, and on it sings a lovely harlot, Pleasure, delighting in vulgar music: “Come here, much-praised Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans; bring your ship to land, so that you may hear a diviner voice.” She praises you, sailor, and calls you much-sung, and the harlot claims for herself the glory of the Greeks. Let her feed on the dead; a heavenly spirit comes to your help. Pass by Pleasure; she beguiles. “Let no woman with trailing robes deceive your mind, coaxing with wheedling words, seeking your nest.” Sail past the song; it works death. Only be willing, and you have conquered destruction; bound to the wood, you will be freed from all corruption. The Word of God will be your pilot, and the Holy Spirit will bring you to anchor in the harbors of heaven. Then you will behold my God, and be initiated into those holy mysteries, and enjoy the things hidden in heaven, kept for me, “which neither ear has heard, nor have they entered into the heart” of anyone. “And indeed I seem to see two suns, and a double Thebes,” said someone raving in Bacchic frenzy for idols, drunk with undiluted ignorance. I would pity him in his drunken madness and invite one so out of his mind to a sober salvation, since the Lord too welcomes the repentance of a sinner …