On the Priesthood, Book 3

1. Chrysostom: As for the charge that I insulted those who honored me, what I have already said should be enough to prove that in avoiding this office I had no wish to shame them. But now I will try, as best I can, to show that I was not puffed up by arrogance of any kind. If I had been offered the choice of a generalship or a kingdom and had then made this decision, anyone might naturally have suspected me of this fault. Or rather, everyone would have found me guilty, not of arrogance, but of senseless folly. But when what is offered to me is the priesthood, which surpasses a kingdom as far as the spirit differs from the flesh, will anyone dare to accuse me of disdain? Isn't it absurd to charge with folly those who reject small things, but, when someone does the same with matters of supreme importance, to exempt him from the charge of insanity and accuse him of pride instead? It is as if someone accused a man of insanity, not pride, for looking down on a herd of oxen and refusing to be a herdsman, yet said that a man who turned down the empire of the world and the command of all the armies on earth was not mad but swollen with pride. But this is certainly not how things are, and those who say such things harm me no more than they harm themselves. The mere idea that human nature could despise this dignity is evidence against the accusers of how they themselves regard the office. If they did not think of it as something ordinary and of little account, such a suspicion would never have entered their heads. Why has no one ever dared to entertain such a suspicion about the dignity of the angels, and to say that arrogance is the reason human nature would not aspire to the rank of the angelic nature? It is because we think great things about those powers, and this does not allow us to believe that a man could imagine anything greater than that honor. So one could more justly indict my accusers themselves for arrogance. They would never have suspected this of others if they had not first belittled the matter as something of no account. But if they say that I did this to win glory, they will be shown to be openly fighting against themselves and falling into their own trap. For I do not know what better arguments they could have looked for than these if they had wanted to clear me of the charge of seeking empty praise.

2. For if this desire had ever entered my mind, I should have accepted the office rather than avoided it. Why? Because it would have brought me a great deal of glory. Someone my age, who had only recently given up secular pursuits, suddenly being judged by everyone so admirable as to be promoted to honor ahead of people who have spent their whole lives in work of this kind, and winning more votes than all of them—this might have led everyone to expect great and marvelous things from me. But as it is, most of the Church does not even know my name. So even my refusal of the office will not be known to everyone, but only to a few, and I am not sure that even all of these know it for certain. Many of them probably imagine either that I was not elected at all, or that I was rejected after the election as unsuitable, not that I avoided the office of my own accord.

3. Basil: But those who do know the truth will be surprised. Chrysostom: And look—these are the very people who, according to you, falsely accuse me of seeking empty praise and of pride. Where, then, am I supposed to hope for praise? From the many? They do not know what actually happened. From the few? Here again the matter is twisted to my disadvantage. After all, the only reason you have come here now is to find out what answer should be given to them. But what am I to say about these things now with any certainty? Wait a little, and you will clearly see that even if everyone knew the truth, they ought not to condemn me for pride and love of glory. And besides this there is another consideration: not only those who would venture this, if there are any such people (which I, for my part, do not believe), but also those who suspect it of others, will put themselves in no small danger.

4. For the priestly office is indeed carried out on earth, but it ranks among heavenly institutions, and that is entirely natural. For it was not a man, or an angel, or an archangel, or any other created power, but the Paraclete Himself who established this calling and persuaded men, while they still live in the flesh, to represent the ministry of angels. That is why the consecrated priest ought to be as pure as if he were standing in heaven itself in the midst of those powers. The things used before the dispensation of grace were certainly fearful and deeply awe-inspiring: the bells, the pomegranates, the stones on the breastplate and on the ephod, the sash, the miter, the long robe, the gold plate, the holy of holies, the deep silence within. But if anyone examines the things that belong to the dispensation of grace, he will find that, small as they are, they are fearful and full of awe, and that what was said about the law is true here as well: “what has been made glorious has no glory in this respect, because of the glory that surpasses it.” For when you see the Lord sacrificed and laid upon the altar, and the priest standing and praying over the victim, and all the worshipers reddened with that precious blood, can you still think that you are among men and standing on the earth? Aren't you instead carried straight up to Heaven, and, casting every carnal thought out of your soul, don't you contemplate the things in Heaven with a disembodied spirit and pure reason? Oh, what a marvel! What love of God for humanity! He who sits on high with the Father is at that hour held in the hands of all, and gives Himself to those who are willing to embrace and grasp Him. And everyone does this through the eyes of faith! Do these things seem to you worthy of contempt, or such that anyone could become arrogant toward them? Would you like to learn the surpassing holiness of this office from another miracle as well? Picture Elijah with the vast crowd standing around him, the sacrifice laid on the altar of stones, and all the rest of the people hushed in deep silence while the prophet alone offers prayer; then the sudden rush of fire from Heaven onto the sacrifice. These are marvelous things, filled with terror. Now pass from that scene to the rites celebrated today. They are not only marvelous to see but surpassing in terror. There stands the priest, bringing down not fire from Heaven but the Holy Spirit. And he prays at length, not that some flame sent down from on high may consume the offerings, but that grace descending on the sacrifice may through it enlighten the souls of all and make them shine more brightly than silver refined by fire. Who can despise this most awesome mystery, unless he is stark mad and out of his senses? Or don't you know that no human soul could have endured that fire in the sacrifice, but all would have been utterly consumed, if the help of God’s grace had not been great?

5. For if anyone considers what a great thing it is for a human being, surrounded by flesh and blood, to be able to draw near to that blessed and pure nature, he will clearly see how great an honor the grace of the Spirit has granted to priests. It is through them that these rites are celebrated, and others in no way inferior to these, in terms of both our dignity and our salvation. For people who live on the earth and make their home there have been entrusted with administering the things of Heaven, and have received an authority that God has not given to angels or archangels. It was not said to them, “Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in Heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in Heaven.” Those who rule on earth do have authority to bind, but only the body, whereas this binding takes hold of the soul and reaches into the heavens. What priests do here below, God ratifies above, and the Master confirms the sentence of His servants. Indeed, what has He given them but every kind of heavenly authority, when He says, “Whose sins you remit, they are remitted, and whose sins you retain, they are retained”? What authority could be greater than this? “The Father has committed all judgment to the Son”? But I see the Son placing all of it in the hands of these men. For they have been raised to this dignity as if they had already been carried up to Heaven, had risen above human nature, and had been freed from the passions to which we are subject. Moreover, if a king gave one of his subjects this honor, authorizing him to throw into prison whomever he pleased and to release them again, that man would become an object of envy and respect to everyone. Yet the one who has received from God an authority greater by as much as heaven is more precious than earth and souls more precious than bodies seems to some people to have received so small an honor that they can actually imagine that one of those entrusted with these things would despise the gift. Away with such madness! For it is plain madness to despise so great a dignity, without which we cannot obtain either our own salvation or the good things that have been promised to us. For if no one can enter the kingdom of Heaven unless he is reborn through water and the Spirit, and whoever does not eat the flesh of the Lord and drink His blood is shut out from eternal life, and if all these things are accomplished only through those holy hands—I mean the hands of the priest—how will anyone, without them, be able to escape the fire of hell or win the crowns reserved for the victorious?

6. These are truly the ones entrusted with the labor pains of spiritual childbirth and the birth that comes through baptism. Through them we put on Christ, are buried with the Son of God, and become members of that blessed Head. So it would be more just for us not only to fear them more than rulers and kings, but also to honor them more than our parents. For our parents brought us into being from blood and the will of the flesh, but priests are the authors of our birth from God, that blessed regeneration which is true freedom and sonship by grace. The Jewish priests had authority to free the body from leprosy—or rather, not to free it, but only to examine those who had already been freed—and you know how fiercely the office of priest was contested in those days. But our priests have received authority to deal not with bodily leprosy but with spiritual uncleanness—not to declare it removed after examination, but actually and completely to take it away. So those who despise these priests would be far more accursed than Dathan and his company, and would deserve more severe punishment. For although those men laid claim to a dignity that did not belong to them, they nevertheless had a high opinion of it, and they showed this by the great eagerness with which they pursued it. But these people, now that the office has been better ordered and has developed so greatly, have shown an audacity that surpasses theirs, though it shows itself in the opposite way. For aiming at an honor that does not belong to you does not involve the same amount of contempt as despising such great blessings; the latter exceeds the former as much as scorn differs from admiration. What soul, then, is so base as to despise such great blessings? None at all, I would say, unless it were one driven by some demonic impulse. For I come back once more to where I started: not only in punishing but also in benefiting, God has given priests a power greater than that of our natural parents. The two differ as much as the present life differs from the future one. Our natural parents bring us into this life only, but priests bring us into the life to come. Our parents could not keep death away from their children or fend off the attacks of disease, but priests have often saved a sick soul, or one on the point of perishing, obtaining a milder punishment for some and keeping others from falling altogether, not only by teaching and warning but also by the help they bring through prayer. For they have authority to forgive sins not only at the time of regeneration but afterward as well. “Is anyone sick among you?” it says. “Let him call for the elders of the Church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise him up; and if he has committed sins, they will be forgiven him.” Again, if their children come into conflict with powerful men of high rank in the world, our natural parents cannot help them; but priests have reconciled not rulers and kings but God Himself, when His anger has often been provoked against them. Well, after all this, will anyone dare to condemn me for arrogance? For my part, I imagine that after what has been said, such religious fear will fill the souls of my hearers that they will no longer condemn for arrogance and rashness those who avoid the office, but rather those who come forward of their own accord and are eager to obtain this dignity for themselves. For if men entrusted with governing cities have sometimes, when they happened to lack good judgment and vigilance, destroyed those cities and ruined themselves as well, how much strength, do you think, both of his own and from above, must the man need to avoid sinning whose task is to adorn the Bride of Christ?

7. No one loved Christ more than Paul; no one showed greater zeal; no one was counted worthy of more grace. Yet even with all these great advantages, he is still full of fear and trembling about this government and about those he governed. “I am afraid,” he says, “that somehow, as the serpent deceived Eve by his cunning, your minds may be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ.” And again, “I was with you in fear and in much trembling.” And this was a man who had been caught up to the third Heaven and made a sharer in the unspeakable mysteries of God, who had endured as many deaths as he had lived days after he became a believer—a man, moreover, who would not use the authority Christ had given him for fear that any of his converts might be offended. If, then, he who went beyond the commands of God and never sought his own advantage, but always that of those he governed, was always so full of fear when he considered the greatness of his government, what will become of us, who in many ways seek our own interests, who not only fail to go beyond the commandments of Christ but for the most part break them? “Who is weak,” he says, “and I am not weak? Who is offended, and I do not burn?” That is what the priest ought to be like—or rather, not only that, for these are small things, nothing compared with what I am about to say. And what is that? “I could wish,” he says, “that I myself were accursed from Christ for my brothers, my kinsmen according to the flesh.” If anyone can say such a thing, if anyone has a soul that rises to such a prayer, he could rightly be blamed if he ran away. But if anyone falls as far short of such excellence as I do, he would deserve to be hated not for avoiding the office, but for accepting it. If the business at hand were the election to a military command, and those with the right to confer the honor dragged forward a brassworker or a shoemaker or some such craftsman and put the army in his hands, I would not praise the poor man if he did not run away and do everything in his power to avoid plunging into such obvious trouble. If it is enough simply to bear the name of pastor and to take up the work haphazardly, and there is no danger in this, then let anyone who likes accuse me of seeking empty praise. But if the one who takes on this care must have great understanding, and, even before understanding, great grace from God, upright conduct, purity of life, and superhuman virtue, then don't deny me your forgiveness if I am unwilling to perish uselessly and for no reason. Moreover, if someone in charge of a full-sized merchant ship, packed with rowers and loaded with costly cargo, were to put me at the helm and tell me to cross the Aegean or the Tyrrhenian Sea, I would shrink back from the proposal at once. And if anyone asked me why, I would say, “So that I don't sink the ship.” Well then, where the loss involves material wealth and the danger extends only to bodily death, no one will blame those who exercise great caution. But where those who are shipwrecked are destined to fall not into the ocean but into the abyss of fire, and the death that awaits them is not the one that separates the soul from the body, but one that, along with this, sends it off to eternal punishment—am I to incur your anger and hatred because I did not plunge headlong into so great an evil?

8. Please don't do this, I beg and plead with you. I know my own soul, how weak and puny it is. I know the magnitude of this ministry and the great difficulty of the work. For more stormy waves batter the soul of the priest than the gales that stir up the sea.

9. And first of all there is that most terrible rock of craving empty praise, more dangerous than the rock of the Sirens, about which the mythmakers tell such marvelous tales. Many were able to sail past that one and escape unharmed, but this one is so dangerous to me that even now, when no necessity of any kind is driving me into that abyss, I cannot keep clear of its snare. And if anyone were to put this charge in my hands, it would be just as if he tied my hands behind my back and handed me over to the wild beasts living on that rock, to tear me to pieces day after day. Do you ask what those wild beasts are? They are rage, despondency, envy, strife, slanders, accusations, lies, hypocrisy, intrigues, anger at those who have done no harm, pleasure at the misconduct of fellow ministers, sorrow at their success, love of praise, desire for honor (which more than anything else drives the human soul headlong to destruction), doctrines designed to please, servile flattery, degrading fawning, contempt for the poor, currying favor with the rich, senseless and harmful honors, favors that bring danger both to those who give them and to those who accept them, a base fear fit only for the lowest of slaves, the end of plain speaking, a great show of humility but a banishment of truth, the suppression of exposure and rebuke—or rather their excessive use against the poor, while no one dares open his mouth against those who hold power. For all these wild beasts, and more besides, breed on that rock I have described, and those they have once captured are inevitably dragged down into such deep servitude that, even to please women, they often do many things better left unmentioned. The divine law has indeed excluded women from the ministry, but they try to force their way into it; and since they can accomplish nothing on their own, they do everything through others. And they have gained so much power that they can appoint or remove priests at will. Things are in fact turned upside down, and you can see the proverb come true: “The ruled lead the rulers.” And I wish it were men doing this rather than women, who have not been given a commission to teach. Why do I say teach? The blessed Paul did not allow them even to speak in the Church. But I have heard someone say that they have gained such great freedom of speech that they even rebuke the prelates of the Churches and scold them more harshly than masters scold their own servants.

10. And let no one suppose that I lay all these charges against everyone. For there are some—indeed many—who rise above these entanglements, and they outnumber those who have been caught by them. Nor would I hold the priesthood responsible for these evils; far be such madness from me. Sensible people do not say that the sword is to blame for murder, or wine for drunkenness, or strength for violence, or courage for recklessness. Rather, they lay the blame on those who misuse the gifts God has given them, and they punish them accordingly. Certainly the priesthood could justly accuse us if we do not handle it properly. For it is not itself the cause of the evils I have mentioned. We are, since we have done all we could to defile it with so many pollutions, by entrusting it to ordinary men who readily accept whatever is offered them, without first getting to know their own souls or considering the seriousness of the office. And once they have taken up the work, blinded by inexperience, they overwhelm the people entrusted to their care with countless evils. This is exactly what very nearly happened in my case, had God not quickly delivered me from those dangers, mercifully sparing His Church and my own soul. Tell me, where do you think such great troubles in the Churches come from? I, for my part, believe their only source is the thoughtless and random way in which prelates are chosen and appointed. The head ought to be the strongest part, so that it can regulate and control the foul vapors rising from the rest of the body below. But when it happens to be weak in itself and unable to repel those pestilent attacks, it becomes even weaker than it really is, and ruins the rest of the body as well. And to keep this from happening now, God kept me in the position of the feet, which was the rank originally assigned to me. For there are a great many other qualities, Basil, besides those already mentioned, that the priest ought to have and that I do not have, and above all this one: his soul ought to be completely purged of any lust for the office. For if he happens to have a natural attraction to this dignity, then as soon as he attains it, a stronger flame is kindled, and the man, taken completely captive, will endure countless evils to keep a secure hold on it, even to the point of using flattery, or submitting to something base and degrading, or spending large sums of money. I will not speak now of the murders with which some have filled the Churches, or the devastation they have brought on cities in their struggles for this dignity, for fear that some people might find what I say unbelievable. But I think one should be so cautious in this matter as to avoid the burden of the office; and once one has entered on it, if any fault is committed that warrants removal, one should not wait for the judgment of others but should anticipate it by removing oneself from the dignity. That way one might well win mercy from God. But to cling to it against all propriety is to forfeit all forgiveness—or rather, to kindle God's anger by adding a second error more offensive than the first.

11. But no one will hold up under the strain forever, for the eager desire for this honor is a fearful thing, truly fearful. And in saying this I am not contradicting the blessed Paul but am in complete agreement with his words. For what does he say? “If anyone desires the office of a bishop, he desires a good work.” Now I have not said that it is a terrible thing to desire the work, but only the authority and power. And I think one ought to drive this desire out of the soul with all possible earnestness, not allowing the soul to be gripped by such a feeling in the first place, so that one can act freely in everything. For whoever does not desire to be seen holding this authority does not fear being removed from it, and not fearing this, he will be able to do everything with the freedom that befits Christians. Those, however, who fear and tremble at the thought of being removed endure a bitter servitude filled with all kinds of evils, and are often forced to offend both God and man. The soul ought not to be affected this way. Rather, just as in war we see noble-hearted soldiers fight willingly and fall bravely, so those who have attained this stewardship should be content either to be consecrated to the dignity or to be removed from it, as befits Christians, knowing that removal of this kind brings its reward no less than carrying out the office. For when someone suffers something like this in order to avoid submitting to something improper or unworthy of this dignity, he brings punishment on those who wrongfully remove him and a greater reward on himself. “Blessed,” says our Lord, “are you when men revile you and persecute you and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for my sake; rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in Heaven.” And this is indeed the case when someone is expelled by those of his own rank, whether out of envy, to win the favor of others, out of hatred, or from any other wrong motive. But when someone happens to receive this treatment at the hands of opponents, I don't think a word is needed to prove how much they benefit him by their wickedness. We must, then, keep watch on every side and search carefully in case some spark of this desire is secretly smoldering somewhere. For it is very much to be hoped that those who are free from this passion at the start will also be able to avoid it once they have come into this office. But if anyone harbors this terrible and savage monster within himself before he obtains the honor, there is no telling into what a furnace he will throw himself after he has attained it. Now I had this desire to a high degree (and don't imagine that I would ever tell you anything untrue just to run myself down); and this, together with other reasons, alarmed me not a little and led me to run away. For just as people in the grip of physical passion for another person suffer more severe torment from their passion as long as they are allowed to be near the objects of their affection, but drive away the frenzy when they get as far away as possible from what they desire, so too, when those who desire this dignity are near it, the evil becomes unbearable; but when they stop hoping for it, the desire dies out along with the expectation.

12. This one motive, then, is no small one, and taken by itself it would have been enough to keep me from this dignity. But as it is, another must be added that is no less weighty than the first. And what is it? A priest ought to be sober-minded and sharp in discernment, with countless eyes looking in every direction, since he lives not for himself alone but for so great a multitude. But that I am sluggish and slack, barely able to work out my own salvation, even you yourself would admit, though out of love for me you are especially eager to hide my faults. Don't talk to me in this connection about fasting and keeping vigils or sleeping on the ground and other hard disciplines of the body. You know how deficient I am in these things. And even if I had practiced them carefully, with my present sluggishness they could not have done me any good for this position of authority. Such things might be of great help to a man shut up in a cell and concerned only with his own affairs. But when a man is divided among so great a multitude and enters individually into the private concerns of those under his direction, what real help can he give toward their improvement unless he has a robust and extremely vigorous character?

13. And don't be surprised if, alongside such endurance, I look for another test of strength in the soul. To be indifferent to food and drink and a soft bed is, as we see, no hard task for many people, especially for those who live a rough life and have been raised that way from early youth, and for many others as well, since bodily training and habit soften the severity of these laborious practices. But insults, abuse, coarse language, and jeers from inferiors, whether spoken wantonly or justly, and rebukes uttered pointlessly and idly by both rulers and ruled—this is what few can bear; in fact, only one or two here and there. And you can see men who are strong in the former exercises so completely upset by these things that they become more furious than the most savage beasts. Such men especially we should keep out of the precincts of the priesthood. For if a prelate did not shun food or did not go barefoot, no harm would be done to the common interests of the Church; but a furious temper causes great disasters both to the one who has it and to those around him. And there is no divine threat against those who fail to do the things just mentioned, but hell and hellfire are threatened against those who are angry without cause. So just as the man who loves empty praise adds fuel to the fire when he takes on the government of many people, so the man who cannot control his anger when alone or in the company of a few, but is easily carried away by it, would, if entrusted with the direction of a whole multitude, be like some wild beast goaded on all sides by countless tormentors: he would never be able to live in peace himself, and he would do incalculable harm to those committed to his charge.

14. For nothing clouds the purity of reason and the clarity of the mind's vision so much as undisciplined anger rushing along with violent force. “For anger,” someone says, “destroys even the prudent.” The eye of the soul, darkened as in some battle at night, cannot tell friends from enemies or the honorable from the unworthy, but treats them all alike, one after another; and even if some harm must be suffered, it readily endures everything in order to satisfy the soul's pleasure. For the fire of anger is a kind of pleasure, and it tyrannizes over the soul more harshly than pleasure does, completely overturning its healthy order. It easily drives people to arrogance, untimely hostilities, and unreasonable hatred; it constantly makes them ready to commit wanton and senseless offenses, and forces them to say and do many other things of that kind, since the soul is swept along by the rush of passion and has nothing to fasten its strength on so as to resist so great an impulse. Basil: I won't put up with this irony of yours any longer. Who doesn't know how far removed you are from this weakness? Chrysostom: Then why, my good friend, do you want to bring me near the pyre and provoke the wild beast when it is calm? Don't you realize that I have reached this condition not through any innate virtue but through my love of retirement? And that when someone with this temperament keeps to himself, or associates with only one or two friends, he can escape the fire that this passion produces, but not if he has plunged into the abyss of all these cares? For then he drags not only himself but many others with him to the brink of destruction, and makes them more careless about any concern for gentleness. The mass of people under government generally tend to regard the conduct of those who govern them as a kind of model and to make themselves like them. How, then, could anyone put a stop to their fury when he himself is swelling with rage? And who among the multitude would immediately want to become moderate when he sees the ruler irritable? For it is completely impossible for the faults of priests to stay hidden; even trivial ones quickly come to light. In the same way, an athlete, as long as he stays at home and competes with no one, can disguise his weakness even if it is very great, but when he strips for the contest he is easily found out. So for some who live this private and inactive life, their isolation serves as a veil to hide their faults; but when they have been brought into public, they are forced to take off this cloak of seclusion and lay bare their souls to everyone through their visible actions. Therefore, just as their good deeds benefit many by stirring them to equal zeal, so their shortcomings make people more indifferent to the practice of virtue and encourage them to be lazy in their pursuit of what is excellent. That is why his soul ought to shine with beauty on every side, so that it can gladden and enlighten the souls of those who look at it. The faults of ordinary people, committed as if in the dark, ruin only those who commit them. But the errors of a man in a prominent position, known to many, do common harm to all, making those who have fallen more listless in their efforts toward good, and driving to despair those who want to take care of themselves. And apart from this, the faults of insignificant people, even when they are exposed, do no harm worth mentioning to anyone. But those who occupy the highest seat of honor are, first of all, plainly visible to everyone, and if they go wrong in the smallest matters, these trifles seem great to others. For everyone measures the sin not by the size of the offense but by the rank of the offender. So the priest ought to be protected on every side by a kind of armor of adamant—by intense earnestness and constant watchfulness over his way of life—so that no one finds an exposed and neglected spot and deals him a deadly wound. For everyone around him is ready to strike him and bring him down: not only enemies and adversaries, but many even of those who profess to be his friends. So the souls of men chosen for the priesthood ought to be endowed with the kind of power that the grace of God gave to the bodies of those saints who were thrown into the Babylonian furnace. Brushwood, pitch, and tow are not the fuel of this fire, but things far more dreadful. For it is no material fire they are subjected to; rather, the all-devouring flame of envy surrounds them, rising up on every side, attacking them, and putting their life to a more searching test than that fire was to the bodies of those young men. So when it finds even a little bit of stubble, it quickly fastens on it and consumes that unsound part completely, while all the rest of the structure, even if it is brighter than the sun's rays, is scorched and blackened by the smoke. As long as the priest's life is well ordered in every respect, it is safe from plots. But if he happens to overlook some small thing, as is natural for a human being crossing the treacherous ocean of this life, none of his other good deeds help him escape the mouths of his accusers; that one little slip overshadows all the rest. And everyone is ready to pass judgment on the priest as if he were not a being clothed in flesh, or one who had inherited a human nature, but an angel, freed from every kind of weakness. Everyone fears and flatters a tyrant as long as he is strong, because they cannot bring him down; but when they see his affairs going badly, those who were his friends a short time before drop their hypocritical respect and suddenly become his enemies and opponents, and, having found all his weak points, attack him and remove him from power. It is the same with priests. Those who honored him and courted his favor a short time before, while he was strong, eagerly prepare to remove him as soon as they have found some small pretext—not as a tyrant only, but as something far more dreadful than that. And just as the tyrant fears his bodyguards, so the priest dreads most of all those closest to him and his fellow ministers. For no one else covets his dignity so much or knows his affairs so well as they do. If anything happens, being close at hand, they notice it before others; and even if they slander him, they can easily be believed, and by blowing trifles out of proportion they take their victim captive. For the apostle's saying is turned upside down: “whether one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; or one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it”—unless, that is, a man is able by his great discretion to stand his ground against everything. Do you, then, want to send me out into so great a war? And did you think my soul would be equal to a contest so varied in its character and form? Where did you learn this, and from whom? If God assured you of it, show me the oracle, and I will obey. But if you cannot, and you are judging by human opinion alone, please free yourself from this delusion. For in what concerns my own affairs, it is fairer to trust me than others, since “no one knows the things of a man except the spirit of man that is in him.” That I would have made myself and those who elected me ridiculous if I had accepted this office, and would have come back with great loss to the way of life I now lead, I trust I have now convinced you by these remarks, if I had not done so before. For not only malice, but something much stronger—the lust for this dignity—tends to arm many people against the one who holds it. And just as greedy children are burdened by their parents' long life, so some of these people, when they see someone holding the priestly office for a long time—since it would be wicked to kill him—hurry to remove him from it, all of them wanting to take his place, and each expecting the dignity to pass to himself.

15. Would you like me to show you yet another side of this conflict, full of countless dangers? Come, then, and take a look at the public festivals, when elections to church offices are usually held, and you will see the priest assailed with as many accusations as there are people under his rule. For all who have the privilege of conferring the honor then split into many factions, and you can never find the council of elders agreeing with one another or about the man who has won the bishopric. Instead each stands apart from the others, one preferring this man and another that. The reason is that they do not all look to the one thing that ought to be the only consideration, excellence of character. Other qualifications are put forward as recommending a man for this honor. For example, it is said of one, “Let him be elected because he belongs to a distinguished family”; of another, “because he has great wealth and would not need to be supported from the Church's revenues”; of a third, “because he has come over from the opposing camp.” One is eager to give preference to a man who is on close terms with him, another to a man related to him by birth, a third to a flatterer; but no one will look to the man who is really qualified or put his character to any test. Now I am so far from considering these things reliable criteria of a man's fitness for the priesthood that, even if someone showed great piety—which is no small help in carrying out that office—I would not dare to approve him on that account alone unless he also happened to combine good abilities with his piety. For I know many men who have kept themselves under constant restraint and worn themselves out with fasting, who, as long as they were allowed to be alone and attend to their own affairs, were pleasing to God and made no small progress day by day in this kind of learning. But as soon as they entered public life and were forced to correct the ignorance of the multitude, some of them proved incompetent for so great a task from the very start, while others, when forced to persevere in it, abandoned their former strict way of life and so did great harm to themselves without benefiting others at all. And if someone had spent his whole life in the lowest rank of the ministry and reached extreme old age, I would not promote him to the higher dignity merely out of respect for his years. For what if, having reached that age, he were still unfit for the office? I say this now not because I want to dishonor gray hair, nor because I am laying down a law to exclude entirely from this authority those who come from the monastic circle (for there are many examples of men who came from that body and shone brilliantly in this dignity). The point I am anxious to prove is this: if neither piety by itself nor advanced age would be enough to show that a man who had obtained the priesthood really deserved it, the reasons mentioned earlier would hardly do so. There are also people who put forward other pretexts that are even more absurd. Some are enrolled in the ranks of the clergy so that they will not join the opposition, and others because of their bad character, for fear that they might do great harm if they are passed over. Could anything be more contrary to right order than this—that wicked men, loaded with sin, should be courted for the very things for which they ought to be punished, and should rise to the priestly dignity for things that ought to bar them from the very threshold of the Church? Tell me, then, should we look any further for the cause of God's anger, when we expose such holy and awesome things to be defiled by men who are either wicked or worthless? For when some men are entrusted with the administration of things that do not suit them at all, and others with things beyond their natural ability, they make the condition of the Church like that of the Euripus. I used to laugh at secular rulers because, in handing out their honors, they are guided not by moral excellence but by wealth, seniority, and human distinction. But when I heard that this kind of folly had forced its way into our affairs too, I no longer regarded their conduct as so outrageous. For what is surprising about worldly people, who love the praise of the crowd and do everything for profit, committing these sins, when those who claim at least to be free of all these influences are no better disposed than they are, but, though engaged in a contest over heavenly things, act as if the question before them concerned acres of land or something of that sort? For they take ordinary men offhand and set them over the very things for whose sake the only-begotten Son of God did not refuse to empty Himself of His glory and become man, take the form of a servant, be spat upon and beaten, and die a shameful death in the flesh. Nor do they stop even there, but add to these offenses others still more monstrous. For they not only elect unworthy men but actually drive out those who are well qualified. As if they had to ruin the safety of the Church from both sides, or as if the first provocation were not enough to kindle God's anger, they have devised another just as destructive. For I consider it as outrageous to drive out useful men as to force in useless ones. And this is in fact what happens, so that the flock of Christ cannot find comfort in any direction or breathe freely. Don't such deeds deserve to be punished with ten thousand thunderbolts and a hellfire hotter than the one with which we are threatened [in Holy Scripture]? Yet these monstrous evils are endured by Him who does not desire the death of a sinner, so that he may be converted and live. How can anyone marvel enough at His lovingkindness or be amazed enough at His mercy? Those who belong to Christ destroy Christ's property more than enemies and adversaries do, yet the good Lord still deals gently with them and calls them to repentance. Glory be to You, O Lord! Glory to You! How vast is the depth of Your lovingkindness! How great the riches of Your forbearance! Men who, because of Your name, have risen from insignificance and obscurity to positions of honor and distinction use the honor they enjoy against the One who gave it. They commit acts of outrageous audacity and insult holy things, rejecting and driving out men of zeal so that the wicked can ruin everything as they please, in complete security and with total fearlessness. And if you want to know the causes of this dreadful evil, you will find that they are similar to those mentioned before. For they have one root and mother, so to speak—namely, envy—but it shows itself in several different forms. One man, we are told, must be struck off the list of candidates because he is young; another because he doesn't know how to flatter; a third because he has offended so-and-so; a fourth so that so-and-so won't be hurt at seeing the man he put forward rejected and this one elected; a fifth because he is kind and gentle; a sixth because he is feared by sinners; a seventh for some other such reason. For they are never at a loss for as many pretexts as they want, and when they have no other, they can even make a man's great wealth an objection. Indeed, they could come up with as many other reasons as they like why a man should not be brought suddenly to this honor, but gently and gradually. And here I would like to ask: “What, then, is the prelate to do, when he has to contend with such blasts? How will he hold his ground against such waves? How will he fend off all these attacks?” For if he handles the matter on upright principles, all those who are enemies and opponents both of him and of the candidates do everything to stir up conflict, provoking quarrels every day and heaping endless scorn on the candidates, until they have gotten them struck off the list or have brought in their own favorites. It is just as if some pilot had pirates sailing with him in his ship, constantly plotting every hour against him, the sailors, and the marines. And if he prefers the favor of such men to his own salvation and accepts unworthy candidates, he will have God for his enemy in their place—and what could be more dreadful than that? And yet his dealings with them will be more awkward than before, since they will all join forces with one another and so become more powerful than they were. For just as when fierce winds blowing from opposite directions collide, the ocean, calm until then, suddenly becomes furious and raises its crested waves, destroying those sailing over it, so too when the Church has admitted corrupt men, its once calm surface is covered with rough surf and strewn with shipwrecks.

16. Consider, then, what kind of man the one must be who is to hold out against such a storm and skillfully manage such great obstacles to the common good. He must be dignified yet free from arrogance, formidable yet kind, able to command yet sociable, impartial yet courteous, humble yet not servile, strong yet gentle, so that he can contend successfully against all these difficulties. And he must put forward with great authority the man who is properly qualified for the office, even if everyone opposes him, and with the same authority reject the man who is not qualified, even if everyone conspires in his favor. He must keep only one aim in view, the building up of the Church, and be moved in nothing by either hostility or favoritism. Well, do you now think I acted reasonably in declining the ministry of this office? But I have not yet gone through all my reasons with you; I still have some others to mention. And don't grow impatient listening to a friendly and sincere man who wants to clear himself of your accusations. For these points are not only useful for the defense you have to make on my behalf, but will also be of no small help for the proper administration of the office. For anyone who is going to enter on this path of life must investigate everything thoroughly before he puts his hand to the ministry. Do you ask why? Because someone who knows all these things clearly will have this advantage, if no other: he will not be caught off guard when they happen to him. Would you like me, then, to take up first the question of overseeing widows, or the care of virgins, or the difficulty of the judicial function? For each of these involves a different kind of anxiety, and the fear is greater than the anxiety. To begin with the subject that seems simpler than the others: the care of widows appears to cause anxiety to those who look after them only as far as spending money is concerned. But it is otherwise. Here too careful scrutiny is needed when they are to be enrolled, for endless harm has been caused by putting them on the list without proper discrimination. They have ruined households and broken up marriages, and have often been caught stealing and pilfering and in other disgraceful acts of that kind. Supporting such women from the Church's revenues brings punishment from God and severe condemnation from people, and it dampens the zeal of those who want to do good. For who would ever choose to spend the wealth he was commanded to give to Christ on those who disgrace the name of Christ? For these reasons a strict and exact scrutiny ought to be made, so that what is meant for the needy is not wasted, not only by the women already mentioned but also by those who are able to provide for themselves. And after this scrutiny comes no small anxiety of another kind: making sure of an abundant and unfailing flow of supplies, as from a fountain. For poverty that people are forced into is an insatiable kind of evil, full of complaints and ungrateful. Great discretion and great zeal are needed to stop the mouths of complainers and take away every excuse from them. Now most people, when they see someone who is above the love of money, immediately declare him well qualified for this stewardship. But I don't think this greatness of soul is ever enough by itself, although it ought to be possessed before all other qualities. Without it, a man would be a destroyer rather than a protector, a wolf instead of a shepherd. Nevertheless, along with this, another quality should also be required. That quality is forbearance, the cause of all good things in people, which drives the soul forward, as it were, and brings it into a calm harbor. For widows, because of their poverty, their age, and their natural disposition, are a class who indulge in unlimited freedom of speech (as I'd better call it). They make untimely clamor and pointless complaints and laments about things they ought to be grateful for, and they bring accusations about things they ought to accept contentedly. The overseer should bear all this in a generous spirit and not be provoked either by their unreasonable annoyance or by their unreasonable complaints. For these people deserve to be pitied for their misfortunes, not insulted; and to trample on their calamities and add the pain of insult to that which poverty brings would be an act of extreme brutality. For this reason one of the wisest of men, taking into account the greed and pride of human nature, and considering the nature of poverty and its terrible power to crush even the noblest character and often lead it to behave shamelessly in these very ways, instructs the giver to be friendly and approachable to the one who asks—so that he will not be irritated when accused, nor be provoked by constant pestering into becoming an enemy where he ought to bring help. He says, “Incline your ear to a poor man and give him a friendly answer with meekness.” And passing over the person who provokes anger (for what could anyone say to someone who has been overwhelmed?), he addresses the man who is able to bear the other's weakness, urging him, before he gives his gift, to set the one asking right by the gentleness of his face and the mildness of his words. But if someone, even though he does not take the property (of these widows), nevertheless heaps countless reproaches on them, insults them, and is exasperated with them, he not only fails to relieve the despondency produced by poverty through his gift, but makes the distress worse by his abuse. For even though they may be forced by the necessity of hunger to act very shamelessly, they are still distressed at being forced to. So when, out of fear of starvation, they are compelled to beg, and because they beg are compelled to set aside shame, and then are insulted for their shamelessness, despondency takes on a complex form, accompanied by deep gloom, and settles down on the soul. And the one in charge of these people ought to be so patient that he not only does not increase their despondency by his outbursts of anger, but also removes most of it by his encouragement. For just as a man who has been insulted, even though he enjoys great abundance, does not feel the benefit of his wealth because of the blow the insult has dealt him, so, on the other hand, the man who has been spoken to kindly, and whose gift has come with encouragement, is all the more delighted and joyful, and the gift is doubled in value by the way it is given. And I do not say this on my own authority, but borrow it from the one whose precept I quoted a moment ago: “My son, do not blemish your good deeds, nor use discouraging words when you give anything. Does not the dew relieve the heat? So a word is better than a gift. Look, is not a word better than a gift? But both are found with a gracious man.” But the overseer of these people ought not only to be gentle and forbearing but also skilled in managing property. For if he lacks this qualification, the affairs of the poor again fall into the same distress. Someone who was entrusted not long ago with this ministry and gathered a large hoard of money neither spent it on himself nor, with a few exceptions, used it for those who needed it, but kept most of it buried in the ground until a time of distress came, when it all fell into the hands of the enemy. Much foresight, therefore, is needed, so that the resources of the Church are neither overabundant nor deficient, but all the supplies provided are quickly distributed among those who need them, and the treasures of the Church are stored up in the hearts of those under her rule. Moreover, in welcoming strangers and caring for the sick, consider how much money must be spent, and how much precision and discernment is required of those in charge of these matters. For this expense often needs to be even larger than the one I just spoke of, and the person in charge of it must combine prudence and wisdom with skill in the art of raising support, so as to make the wealthy eager to outdo one another and ungrudging in their giving, so that, while providing relief for the sick, he does not vex the souls of those who supply their needs. But earnestness and zeal must be shown here to a far higher degree, for the sick are hard to please and prone to listlessness, and unless great precision and care are used, even a slight oversight is enough to do the patient great harm.

17. But in the care of virgins, the fear is greater in proportion as the treasure is more precious and this flock nobler than the others. Already, in fact, a vast number of women full of countless bad qualities have rushed even into the company of these holy ones, and in this case our grief is greater than in the other. For there is the same difference between a virgin and a widow going astray as between a freeborn young woman and her female servant. Among widows it has become common practice to act frivolously, to insult one another, to flatter or to be impudent, to show themselves everywhere in public, and to wander around the marketplace. But the virgin has striven for nobler goals and eagerly pursued the highest kind of philosophy; she professes to display on earth the life that angels lead, and while still in the flesh she sets out to do the deeds that belong to the bodiless powers. Moreover, she ought not to make many or unnecessary outings, nor is it permitted for her to speak idle and careless words; and as for abuse and flattery, she should not even know them by name. For this reason she needs the most careful guardianship and the greater help. For the enemy of holiness is always ambushing and lying in wait for these women, ready to devour any one of them who slips and falls. There are also many men who set traps for them. And on top of all this there is the passionate nature of their own humanity, so that, generally speaking, the virgin has to arm herself for a twofold war: one that attacks her from outside, and another that presses on her from within. For these reasons the one who oversees virgins lives in great alarm, and the danger and distress are greater still if anything happens contrary to his wishes—God forbid. For if a daughter kept at home in seclusion causes her father sleepless nights, his worry about her robbing him of sleep, when the fear is so great that she might be childless, or pass the flower of her youth (unmarried), or be hated (by her husband), what will the man suffer whose anxiety concerns none of these things, but others far greater? For in this case it is not a man who is rejected but Christ Himself; nor is this barrenness merely a matter of reproach, but the evil ends in the destruction of the soul. “For every tree,” it says, “that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” And for one who has been repudiated by the divine Bridegroom, it is not enough to receive a certificate of divorce and leave; she must pay the penalty of everlasting punishment. Moreover, a biological father has many things that make guarding his daughter easy. Her mother, her nurse, and many female servants share in helping the parent keep the girl safe. She is not allowed to be constantly hurrying off to the marketplace, nor when she does go there is she compelled to show herself to any of the passersby, since the evening darkness hides one who does not want to be seen no less than the walls of the house do. And apart from this, she is spared every circumstance that might otherwise force her to meet the gaze of men. No worry about the necessities of life, no threats from oppressors, nothing of that kind reduces her to this unfortunate necessity, since her father acts for her in all these matters. She herself has only one concern: to avoid doing or saying anything unworthy of the modest conduct that befits her. But in the other case there are many things that make guarding the virgin difficult, or rather impossible, for the father. He cannot have her living in his house with him, since living together that way would be neither proper nor safe. For even if they themselves suffered no harm, but went on keeping their innocence unstained, they would have to give an account for the souls they had offended, just as if they had sinned with each other. And since it is impossible for them to live together, it is not easy to understand the movements of her character, to curb the impulses that are badly regulated, or to train and improve those that are better ordered and in tune. Nor is it easy to interfere in her habits of going out, for her poverty and lack of a guardian do not allow him to examine closely the propriety of her conduct. Since she is forced to manage all her own affairs, she has many pretexts for going out, at least if she is not inclined to be self-controlled. So the one who tells her to stay at home always ought to cut off these pretexts by providing for her independence in the necessities of life and giving her some woman to take care of managing these things. He must also keep her away from funerals and nighttime festivals, for that cunning serpent knows only too well how to spread his poison even by means of good deeds. And the young woman must be fenced in on every side and rarely leave the house during the whole year, except when compelled by unavoidable necessity. Now if anyone says that none of these things is properly a bishop's job to take on, let him be assured that the anxieties and the responsibility for what happens in every case come back to him. And it is far more advantageous for him to manage everything himself, and so be spared the complaints he would otherwise face because of the faults of others, than to stay out of the management and then have to fear being called to account for what other people have done. Moreover, the one who does these things himself gets through them all with great ease, but the one who is forced to do them by bringing everyone around to his opinion gains less relief from not working single-handed than he suffers in trouble and turmoil from those who oppose him and fight his decisions. However, I could not list all the anxieties involved in the care of virgins; for when they have to be entered on the list, they cause no small trouble to the one entrusted with this business. Again, the judicial side of the bishop's office involves countless vexations, a great deal of time, and difficulties greater than those faced by men who sit in judgment on secular affairs. For it is hard work to find exact justice, and once it is found, it is difficult to avoid destroying it. And this involves not only loss of time and difficulty but also no small danger. For before now, some of the weaker brothers, having plunged into lawsuits, have made shipwreck of their faith because they did not get the support they wanted. For many of those who have been wronged, no less than those who have done wrong, hate those who do not help them. They will not take into account the complexity of the matters in question, or the difficulty of the times, or the limits of priestly authority, or anything of that kind, but are merciless judges who recognize only one kind of defense: release from the evils that oppress them. And whoever cannot provide this, even if he offers countless excuses, will never escape their condemnation. And speaking of support, let me reveal another pretext for fault-finding. If the bishop does not make a round of visits every day, more even than the idlers around town, unspeakable offense results. For not only the sick but also the healthy want to be looked after—not because piety moves them to this, but in most cases because they are claiming honor and distinction. And if he ever happens to visit one of the richer and more powerful men more often, under the pressure of some necessity and for the common benefit of the Church, he is immediately branded as a fawner and flatterer. But why do I talk about support and visiting? Just from the way they greet people, bishops have to bear such a load of reproaches that they are often weighed down and overwhelmed by despondency. In fact, they even have to undergo scrutiny of the way they use their eyes. For the public rigorously criticizes their simplest actions, taking note of the tone of their voice, the look on their face, and how much they laugh. “He laughed heartily with so-and-so,” someone will say, “and greeted him with a beaming face and a clear voice, whereas to me he made only a brief passing remark.” And in a large gathering, if he does not turn his eyes in every direction while he is talking, most people declare that he is being insulting. Who, then, unless he is extremely strong, could cope with so many accusers, so as either to avoid being indicted at all or, if he is indicted, to escape? For he must either have no accusers at all or, if that is impossible, clear himself of the accusations brought against him; and if that again is not easy, since some people delight in making empty and wanton charges, he must stand up bravely against the dejection these complaints produce. The man who is justly accused can easily put up with his accuser, for there is no more bitter accuser than conscience. So if we have first been caught by this most terrible adversary, we can readily endure the milder ones outside us. But the man who has nothing evil on his conscience, when he is hit with an empty charge, is quickly roused to anger and easily sinks into dejection, unless he happens to have practiced beforehand how to put up with the foolishness of the crowd. For it is completely impossible for someone who is falsely accused without cause, and condemned, to avoid feeling some vexation and annoyance at such great injustice. And how can one describe the distress bishops go through whenever it is necessary to cut someone off from the full communion of the Church? If only the evil went no further than distress! But in fact the harm is not trivial. For there is a fear that the man, if he has been punished more than he deserves, may experience what the blessed Paul spoke of and “be swallowed up by excessive sorrow.” So the greatest precision is required in this matter too, so that what is meant to be beneficial does not become an occasion of greater harm to him. For whatever sins he may commit after such treatment, the anger provoked by each of them must be shared by the physician who so unskillfully applied his knife to the wound. What severe punishment, then, must be expected by one who has not only to give an account of the offenses he himself has committed on his own, but also incurs extreme danger because of the sins committed by others? For if we shudder at facing judgment for our own misdeeds, believing that we will not be able to escape the fire of the other world, what must someone expect to suffer who has to answer for so many others? To see that this is true, listen to the blessed Paul—or rather not to him, but to Christ speaking in him—when he says: “Obey those who rule over you, and submit, for they watch for your souls as those who must give account.” Can the terror of this threat be slight? It is impossible to say. But these considerations are enough to convince even the most skeptical and stubborn that I did not make this escape out of pride or a desire for empty praise, but simply out of fear for my own safety and regard for the seriousness of the office.