On the Priesthood, Book 2

1. I could prove at greater length that it is possible to use deceit for a good purpose, or rather that in such a case it shouldn't even be called deceit, but a kind of good management worthy of all admiration. But since what I've already said is enough to prove the point, it would be tiresome and tedious to drag out my discussion of the subject. Now it remains for you to test whether I haven't used this art to your advantage. Basil: And what kind of advantage have I gained from this piece of good management, or wise policy, or whatever you want to call it, that should persuade me that you didn't deceive me? Chrysostom: Tell me, what advantage could be greater than to be seen doing the very things that Christ, with His own lips, declared to be proofs of love for Himself? For He said to the leader of the apostles, “Peter, do you love me?” and when Peter confessed that he did, the Lord added, “If you love me, tend my sheep.” The Master asked the disciple whether he loved Him, not to get information (how could He need it, when He sees into the hearts of all people?), but to teach us how much He cares about the oversight of these sheep. Since this is plain, it will also be clear that a great and unspeakable reward is reserved for the one whose labors concern these sheep, on which Christ places such a high value. For when we see someone taking care of the members of our household, or of our flocks, we count his zeal for them as a sign of love for us; and yet all these things can be bought with money. How great a gift, then, will He give in return to those who tend the flock that He purchased, not with money or anything of that kind, but by His own death, giving His own blood as the price of the herd! That is why, when the disciple said, “Lord, You know that I love You,” and called on the very One he loved as a witness of his love, the Savior did not stop there, but added what was the token of love. For at that moment He did not want to show how much Peter loved Him, but how much He Himself loved His own Church, and He wanted to teach Peter and all of us that we too should devote great zeal to it. For why did God not spare His only-begotten Son, but handed Him over, even though He was the only one He had? It was so that He might reconcile to Himself those who were hostile to Him, and make them His own special people. For what purpose did He shed His blood? It was to win these sheep, which He entrusted to Peter and his successors. It was natural, then, for Christ to say, “Who then is the faithful and wise servant, whom his lord will make ruler over His household?” Again, these are the words of someone in doubt, yet the speaker did not say them in doubt. Just as He asked Peter whether he loved Him, not because He needed to learn how the disciple felt, but because He wanted to show the surpassing depth of His own love, so now too, when He says, “Who then is the faithful and wise servant?” He speaks not as one who doesn't know who is faithful and wise, but as one who wants to point out how rare such a character is, and how great this office is. Notice, at any rate, how great the reward is: “He will appoint him,” He says, “ruler over all his goods.”

2. Will you still argue, then, that you weren't rightly deceived, when you are about to oversee the things that belong to God, and are doing the very thing that, when Peter did it, the Lord said would enable him to surpass the rest of the apostles? For His words were, “Peter, do you love me more than these?” Yet He could have said to him, “If you love me, practice fasting, sleeping on the ground, and long vigils; defend the wronged, be a father to orphans, and take the place of a husband to their mother.” But in fact, setting all these things aside, what does He say? “Tend my sheep.” For the things I've already mentioned could easily be done by many even of those who are under authority, women as well as men; but when someone is required to preside over the Church and to be entrusted with the care of so many souls, the whole female sex must step aside before the magnitude of the task, and most men as well; and we must bring forward those who far surpass everyone else, and who soar as far above them in excellence of spirit as Saul towered over the whole Hebrew nation in bodily stature, or rather much farther. For in this case I won't make the height of shoulders the standard of measurement; instead, let the difference between the pastor and those in his charge be as great as that between rational human beings and irrational creatures, if not even greater, since the risk involves things of far greater importance. Someone who has lost sheep, whether through the ravages of wolves, or attacks by robbers, or a livestock plague, or any other disaster that strikes them, might perhaps receive some leniency from the owner of the flock; and even if the owner demanded compensation, the penalty would only be a matter of money. But the one entrusted with human beings, the rational flock of Christ, first of all incurs a penalty for the loss of the sheep that goes beyond material things and touches his own life; and second, he has to carry on a far greater and more difficult struggle. For he doesn't have to fight wolves, or fear robbers, or think about how to keep disease away from the flock. Who, then, does he have to fight? Who does he have to wrestle with? Listen to the words of St. Paul: “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” Do you see the terrible multitude of enemies, and their fierce squadrons, not clad in steel, but endowed with a nature that is itself the equal of a complete suit of armor? Would you like to see yet another host, harsh and cruel, besieging this flock? You will see this one too from the same lookout point. For the same man who told us about the others also points out these enemies to us, speaking in one place like this: “The works of the flesh are obvious, which are these: sexual immorality, adultery, impurity, lewdness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, discord, jealousy, rage, strife, slanders, gossip, arrogance, disorders,” and many more besides; for he didn't make a complete list, but left us to infer the rest from these. Moreover, in the case of the shepherd of irrational creatures, those who want to destroy the flock stop making war on him once they see the guardian run away, and are satisfied with seizing the animals. But in this case, even if they capture the whole flock, they don't leave the shepherd alone, but attack him all the more and grow bolder, never stopping until they have either overthrown him or been defeated themselves. Again, the afflictions of sheep are obvious, whether it is famine, or disease, or wounds, or whatever else distresses them, and this might go a long way toward relieving those who suffer in these ways. And there is yet another, greater fact that makes recovery from this kind of ailment easier. What is it? Shepherds have great authority to force the sheep to accept the remedy when they won't submit to it willingly. For it is easy to tie them up when cauterizing or cutting is needed, to keep them inside the fold for a long time whenever that is advisable, to give them one kind of food instead of another, and to cut them off from their water supply; and everything else the shepherds decide is good for their health, they carry out with great ease.

3. But in the case of human ailments, in the first place it isn't easy for a person to discern them, for no one “knows the things of a man except the spirit of the man that is in him.” How, then, can anyone apply the remedy for a disease when he doesn't know its nature, and often can't understand it even if he happens to fall sick with it himself? And even when it becomes obvious, it gives him still more trouble, for it isn't possible to treat all people with the same authority with which a shepherd treats his sheep. In this case, too, it is necessary to bind, to restrict food, and to use cautery or the knife; but whether the treatment is accepted depends on the will of the patient, not of the one who applies the remedy. That wonderful man (St. Paul) understood this too when he said to the Corinthians, “Not that we have dominion over your faith, but are helpers of your joy.” For Christians, above all people, are not permitted to correct the failings of sinners by force. Secular judges, when they have caught criminals under the law, show that their authority is great, and stop them, even against their will, from following their own schemes; but in our case the wrongdoer must be made better, not by force, but by persuasion. For no law has given us authority of this kind to restrain sinners, and even if it had been given, we would have no room to exercise that power, since God rewards those who abstain from evil by their own choice, not by compulsion. That is why great skill is needed to get our patients to submit willingly to the treatment prescribed by the physicians, and not only that, but to be grateful for the cure as well. For if someone who has been bound struggles against it (which he is free to do), he makes the harm worse; and if he ignores the words that cut like steel, he inflicts another wound through this contempt, and the intention to heal only becomes the occasion of a worse disorder. For no one can cure a person by compulsion, against his will.

4. What, then, should one do? If you are too gentle with someone who needs a severe use of the knife, and don't cut deep into someone who requires that treatment, you remove one part of the sore but leave the other. And if, on the other hand, you make the necessary incision unsparingly, the patient, driven to desperation by his pain, will often throw everything away at once, both the remedy and the bandage, and hurl himself headlong, “breaking the yoke and bursting the bonds.” I could tell you about many who have rushed into the worst evils because the full penalty for their sins was exacted. For when we apply punishment, we shouldn't merely make it proportionate to the size of the offense, but should rather keep in mind the disposition of the sinner, so that in trying to mend what is torn you don't make the tear worse, and in your eager efforts to restore what has fallen you don't make the ruin greater. For weak and careless people, mostly given over to the pleasures of the world, and having reason to be proud because of their birth and position, may still, if they are gently and gradually brought to repent of their errors, be delivered, at least partly if not completely, from the evils that possess them. But if someone were to impose the discipline all at once, he would rob them of this slight chance of improvement. For once the soul has been forced to cast off shame, it sinks into a callous state, and it neither yields to kind words nor bends to threats, nor is capable of gratitude, but becomes far worse than the city the prophet rebuked when he said, “You had the face of a prostitute, refusing to be ashamed before all people.” Therefore the pastor needs great discretion, and countless eyes to observe the condition of the soul from every angle. For just as many are lifted up to pride and then sink into despair of their salvation because they can't endure severe remedies, so there are some who, because they pay no penalty equal to their sins, fall into negligence, become far worse, and are driven to greater sins. So the priest must leave none of these things unexamined, but after a thorough inquiry into all of them, must apply the remedies he has as each case requires, so that his zeal does not prove to be in vain. And not only in this matter, but also in the work of knitting together the severed members of the Church, one can see that he has a great deal to do. For a shepherd of sheep has his flock following him wherever he leads them; and if any stray from the straight path, leave the good pasture, and graze in barren or rugged places, a loud shout is enough to gather them and bring back to the fold those who have been separated from it. But if a human being wanders away from the right faith, great effort, perseverance, and patience are required; for he can't be dragged back by force or compelled by fear, but must be led back by persuasion to the truth from which he originally turned aside. The pastor, then, ought to have a noble spirit, so as not to lose heart or despair of the salvation of those who have wandered from the fold, but to keep reasoning with himself and saying, “Perhaps God will give them repentance leading to the acknowledgment of the truth, so that they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil.” That is why the Lord, speaking to His disciples, said, “Who then is the faithful and wise servant?” For the one who disciplines himself secures only his own benefit, but the benefit of the pastoral office extends to the whole people. And someone who gives money to the needy, or otherwise helps the oppressed, benefits his neighbors to some extent, but falls short of the priest just as far as the body falls short of the soul. Rightly, then, did the Lord say that zeal for the flock was a token of love for Himself. Basil: But you yourself—don't you love Christ? Chrysostom: Yes, I love Him, and I will never stop loving Him; but I'm afraid of provoking the One I love. Basil: But what riddle could be more obscure than this? Christ has commanded the one who loves Him to tend His sheep, and yet you say you refuse to tend them because you love the One who gave this command? Chrysostom: What I'm saying is no riddle, but very clear and simple. If I were well qualified to carry out this office as Christ wanted it carried out, and then avoided it, my remark might be open to doubt; but since the weakness of my spirit makes me useless for this ministry, why should my statement be called into question? For I'm afraid that if I took charge of the flock when it was in good condition and well fed, and then ruined it through my lack of skill, I would provoke against myself the God who loved the flock so much that He gave Himself up for their salvation and ransom. Basil: You're joking. If you were serious, I don't know how you could have proved that I'm justly upset in any other way than by the very words you've used to try to dispel my dejection. I already knew that you had deceived and betrayed me, but now, when you've undertaken to clear yourself of my accusations, I see and understand much more plainly the extent of the evils you've led me into. For if you withdrew from this ministry because you knew your spirit wasn't equal to the burden of the task, I should have been rescued from it before you, even if I had happened to want it very much, let alone having entrusted the whole decision in these matters to you. But as it is, you've looked only to your own interest and neglected mine. I wish you had neglected it entirely; then I would have been quite content. But you schemed to make it easier for those who wanted to seize me to capture me. And you can't take refuge in the argument that public opinion deceived you and led you to imagine great and wonderful things about me. For I was not one of your wonderful and distinguished men, and even if I had been, you shouldn't have preferred public opinion to the truth. If I had never let you enjoy my company, you might seem to have had a reasonable excuse for letting public report guide your vote. But if no one has such a thorough knowledge of my affairs, if you know my character better than my parents and those who raised me, what argument can you use that will be convincing enough to persuade your hearers that you didn't deliberately thrust me into this danger? Tell me, what answer am I to give to your accusers? Chrysostom: No! I won't move on to those questions until I've settled the ones that concern you alone, even if you were to ask me ten thousand times to deal with these charges. You said that ignorance would earn me forgiveness, and that I would have been free from all blame if I had brought you into your present position without knowing anything about you; but that since I didn't betray you in ignorance, but knew your affairs intimately, I was stripped of every reasonable pretext and excuse. But I say exactly the opposite. In such matters careful scrutiny is needed, and anyone who is going to present someone as qualified for the priesthood ought not to be content with public report alone, but should also, above all and before anything else, investigate the man's character himself. For when the blessed Paul says, “He must also have a good report from those who are outside,” he doesn't do away with an exact and rigorous inquiry, nor does he give such testimony priority over the scrutiny required in such cases. For after much previous discussion, he mentioned this additional testimony, showing that in elections of this kind one must not be satisfied with it alone, but must take it into account along with everything else. For public report often speaks falsely; but when careful investigation comes first, there is no further danger to be feared from it. That is why he places the testimony of those who are outside after the other kinds of evidence. For he didn't simply say, “He must have a good report,” but added the words, “from those who are outside,” wanting to show that the man must be carefully examined before the report of outsiders is considered. Since, then, I knew your affairs better than your parents did, as you yourself admitted, I might deserve to be released from all blame. Basil: No, this is the very reason you couldn't escape if anyone chose to indict you. Don't you remember hearing from me, and often learning from my actual conduct, how weak my character is? Weren't you constantly taunting me about my faintheartedness, because I was so easily discouraged by ordinary worries?

5. Chrysostom: I do remember often hearing you say such things; I won't deny it. But if I ever taunted you, I did it in fun and not in earnest. However, I won't argue about these matters now, and I ask the same patience from you while I mention some of the good qualities you have. For if you try to convict me of saying something untrue, I won't spare you, but will prove that you say these things to put yourself down rather than to tell the truth, and I'll use no evidence but your own words and deeds to show that what I say is true. Now the first question I want to ask you is this: do you know how great the power of love is? For leaving aside all the miracles the apostles were going to perform, Christ said, “By this people will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another,” and Paul said that it is the fulfilling of the law, and that without it no spiritual gift is of any benefit. Well, I saw that this choice good, the distinguishing mark of Christ's disciples, the gift that is higher than all other gifts, was deeply planted in your soul and teeming with abundant fruit. Basil: I admit that the matter is of deep concern to me, and that I try very earnestly to keep this commandment; but that I haven't succeeded even halfway, you yourself would testify, if you would stop talking out of partiality and simply respect the truth.

6. Chrysostom: Well, then, I'll turn to my evidence, and now do what I threatened, proving that you want to disparage yourself rather than tell the truth. But I'll mention something that has only just happened, so that no one can suspect me of trying to obscure the truth by relating events long past, after a great lapse of time, since forgetfulness would then keep anyone from objecting to things I might say just to please you. When one of our close friends had been falsely accused of insolence and folly and was in extreme danger, you threw yourself into the middle of that danger, even though no one had called on you and the person who was about to be endangered hadn't appealed to you. That is what happened. But so that I can convict you out of your own mouth, I'll remind you of the words you spoke. When some people disapproved of this zeal, while others praised and admired it, you said to those who criticized you, “What can I do? I don't know any other way to love than to give up my life when it's necessary to save one of my friends who is in danger.” In this you repeated, in different words but with the same meaning, what Christ said to His disciples when He laid down the definition of perfect love: “Greater love,” He said, “has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” If, then, it is impossible to find greater love than this, you have reached its limit, and by both your deeds and your words you have crowned the summit. This is why I betrayed you; this is why I devised that plot. Do I convince you now that it wasn't out of any malice, or any desire to thrust you into danger, but out of a conviction that you would be useful in the future, that I dragged you into this course? Basil: So you think love is enough to correct one's fellow human beings? Chrysostom: It would certainly contribute a great deal to that end. But if you want me to produce evidence of your practical wisdom as well, I'll go on to do so, and will prove that your understanding surpasses your loving-kindness. At these remarks he blushed scarlet and said, “Let's drop the subject of my character now; that isn't what I originally asked you to explain. But if you have any fair answer to give to those who are outside, I would gladly hear what you have to say. So drop this pointless contest and tell me what defense I'm to make, both to those who have honored you and to those who are distressed on their behalf, believing them to have been insulted.”

7. Chrysostom: This is exactly the point I'm finally hurrying toward, for now that my explanation to you is finished, I'll easily turn to this part of my defense. What, then, is the accusation these people make, and what are their charges? They say they have been insulted and seriously wronged by me because I didn't accept the honor they wanted to confer on me. Now, in the first place, I say that no account should be taken of an insult shown to human beings when honoring them would force me to offend God. And I would tell those who are displeased that it isn't safe for them to take offense at these things, but does them great harm. For I think that those who rely on God and look to Him alone ought to be so devout that they wouldn't count such a thing as an insult, even if they happened to be dishonored a thousand times. But that I never went so far as even to think of daring anything of the kind is clear from what I'm about to say. For if I had in fact been driven by arrogance and vanity, as you have often said some people slanderously claim, then I would have to agree with my accusers that I was one of the most wicked people alive, having treated great and excellent men, who were moreover my benefactors, with contempt. For if people deserve to be punished for wronging those who have never wronged them, how much ought we to honor those who have freely chosen to honor us? No one could possibly say they were repaying me for any favors, small or great, they had received from me. How great a punishment, then, would someone deserve who repaid them in the opposite way! But if such a thing never entered my mind, and I declined the heavy burden with an entirely different intention, why do they refuse to forgive me (even if they won't go so far as to approve), and instead accuse me of having selfishly spared my own soul? For far from having insulted these men, I would say that I actually honored them by my refusal. And don't be surprised at how paradoxical my remark sounds, for I'll quickly supply its solution.

8. For if I had accepted the office, not everyone, but at least those who enjoy speaking evil, might have suspected and said many things about me, the one elected, and about them, the electors: for instance, that they had an eye to wealth, or admired a splendid rank, or had been induced by flattery to promote me to this honor. Indeed, I can't say whether someone might not have suspected that they had been bribed with money. Moreover, they would have said, “Christ called fishermen, tentmakers, and tax collectors to this dignity, whereas these men reject those who support themselves by daily labor; but if there is anyone who devotes himself to secular learning and is brought up in idleness, him they welcome and admire. Why, tell us, have they passed over men who have endured countless labors in the service of the Church, and suddenly dragged into this dignity someone who has never experienced labors of this kind, but has spent his whole youth in the empty study of secular learning?” They might have said these things and more if I had accepted the office; but not now. For every pretext for slander has now been cut away from them, and they can't accuse me of flattery, or the others of taking bribes, unless some people choose to act like outright madmen. For how could someone who used flattery and spent money to get the dignity have given it up to others when he could have had it? That would be just as if a man who had put a great deal of work into his land so that the grain field would be loaded with abundant produce and the presses would overflow with wine, after countless labors and great expense, were to hand the fruits over to others just when it was time to reap his grain and gather his grapes. Do you see that, even though what was said might be far from the truth, those who wanted to slander the electors would then have had a pretext for claiming that the choice was made without fair judgment and consideration? But as it is, I have kept them from opening their mouths, or even saying a single word on the subject. These, then, and more would have been their remarks at the start. But after taking up the ministry, I wouldn't have been able to defend myself day after day against accusers, even if I had done everything flawlessly, much less given the many mistakes I would surely have made because of my youth and inexperience. But as it is, I have also saved the electors from this kind of accusation, whereas otherwise I would have involved them in countless reproaches. For what wouldn't people have said? “They have entrusted affairs of such vast interest and importance to thoughtless youths; they have defiled the flock of God, and Christian affairs have become a joke and a laughingstock.” But now “all iniquity will stop her mouth.” For although they may say these things about you, you will soon teach them by your actions that understanding is not to be measured by age, and that gray hair is not the test of an elder—that a young man ought not to be absolutely excluded from the ministry, but only a novice; and the difference between the two is great.