Content:

Graham Neville’s version of St John Chrysostom’s Six Books on the Priesthood to English readers of the twentieth century was published in 1964 by S.P.C.K. in Great Britain and subsequently reprinted in 1984 by St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, New York. The original translation by T.A. Moxon was published by S.P.C.K. in Great Britain in 1907. It was felt by some Orthodox Church leaders that the British Publication was highly appropriate for a scholastic audience and perhaps not sensitive enough to the needs of English speaking Orthodox readers. This is the reason behind the few simplifications that I have attempted to make. Though I do not consider these changes to be perfect, I can only hope that I will be forgiven for any serious errors.

In 391 St. John Chrysostom sat down in Antioch to write his six books on ‘Priesthood’ (390/91 CE). He was highly influenced by Gregory, and he built upon his ideas about the function of the priest as teacher and shepherd, describing in more detail the difficulties, perils and temptations he encounters in his service. But he also added new themes that were not touched in Gregory’s treatise. In discussing the responsibility of the priest for the souls of his flock and his liturgical and sacramental functions, Chrysostom found in them a reason to ascribe to him an awesome dignity, a high honor, and even a character which is different from human:

Chrysostom sees that the role of priests in the sacraments of reconciliation, baptism and Eucharist makes our salvation dependent upon them:

John Chrysostom reaches the conclusion that the authority of the priests over the Sacraments of Baptism, Reconciliation, and Anointing is a reason for them to be more feared and honored than kings and Jewish priests and to be more loved than parents:

Only three decades separate the two earliest patristic treatises on priesthood; yet they speak in two different languages, express two different attitudes, and even use two different theologies. We can explain this only in part by the enthusiasm of Chrysostom early in his career as a priest in the great city of Antioch. A casual look at the Christian literature of the time shows that some of his description of the glamor, dignity and authority of the clerical office was commonplace.

In his farewell address to his congregation at Constantinople in 381, St. Gregory Nazianzen says,

St. Gregory of Nyssa, in his sermon on Epiphany in 383, illustrates how the ordaining words of the bishop can transform the character of the priest since they represent the same divine Word which changes the water of Baptism, the bread of the Eucharist and the stones when consecrating an altar,

"The power of that divine word bestows a special dignity on the priest, and the blessing separates him from the ranks of the people. Yesterday he was but one of the crowd, but now he has been appointed to govern and preside, heal and instruct. Outwardly he looks like he did before, but inwardly he is transformed by an invisible power and Grace."(8)

It appears that the great triumphs that Christianity enjoyed over the Pagans and the Aryan heretics by the ascent of Theodosius to the throne in 378 have bolstered the power, influence and honor of its leaders. This does not only appear in the tone of the patristic writings of the period, but also in the actions of the Church leaders. History gives us several examples. In 390, St. Ambrose of Milan excommunicated Theodosius after his massacre of thousands of Thessalonians when they had killed an army commander. The Emperor, stripped of the ensigns of royalty, had to appear in the midst of the church of Milan, and humbly solicit, with sighs and tears, the pardon of his sins. Theodosius was restored to communion after a delay of eight months. (9) The great temple of Serapis at Alexandria was destroyed in 391 under the direction of its Archbishop St. Theophilus. (10)

In a few decades, St. Isidore of Peluse would lament the loss of the ancient values of priesthood. He writes to a bishop, " It is not long since the Church had splendid teachers and approved disciples, and it would be so again if bishops would lay aside their tyranny and show a fatherly interest in their people..." Writing to an ambitious deacon, he says, " The episcopate is a work not a relaxation; a solitude not a luxury; a responsible ministration not an irresponsible dominion; a fatherly supervision not a tyrrannical autocracy."(11)

The evolution of the teaching of the early Church on Priesthood between Gregory and Chrysostom can be attributed to a combination of factors, a change of times and the enthusiasm of a young priest. Although it may have been a basis for further abuse of power by the clergy of the Middle Ages in the West, and of the Scholastics’ definition of a priest as one who has the power to celebrate the Eucharist and forgive sins, Chrysostom is not the one to blame. His teaching must be taken as a whole, and more weight should be given to his later writings. Two years after writing Priesthood (c.393), he says in his homily on Second Corinthians:

"But there are occasions in which there is no difference at all between the priest and those under him; for instance, when we are to partake of the awful mysteries; for we are all alike counted worthy of the same things: not as under the Old Testament [when] the priest ate some things and those under him others, and it was not lawful for the people to partake of those things whereof the priest partook. But not so now, but before all one body is set and one cup. And in the prayers also, one may observe the people contributing much. For in behalf of the possessed, in behalf of those under penance, the prayers are made in common both by the priest and by them; and all say one prayer. (12)... Again when we exclude from the holy precincts those who are unable to partake of the holy table, it behoveth that another prayer be offered, and we all alike fall upon the ground, and all alike rise up. (13) Again, in the most awful mysteries themselves, the priest prays for the people and the people also pray for the priest; for the words, "with thy spirit," are nothing else than this. The offering of thanksgiving (14) again is common: for neither doth he give thanks alone, but also all the people. For Having first taken their voices, next when they assent that it is "meet and right so to do," then he begins the thanksgiving (15). ...The Apostles frequently admitted the laity to share in their decisions. For when they ordained the seven, and Matthias they first communicated with the people, both men and women. (Acts 1: 15 & Acts6: 2, 3.). Here is no pride of rulers nor slavishness in the ruled; but a spiritual rule ... For so ought the Church to dwell as one house; as one body so to be all disposed; just as therefore there is one Baptism, and one table, and one fountain, and one creation, and one Father.

Why then are we divided, when so great (6) things unite us; why are we torn asunder? .... For in this way will he that is greater be able to gain even from him that is less. For if Moses learnt from his father-in-law somewhat expedient which himself had not perceived (Exod. 18: 14- 27), much more in the Church may this happen."(16)

I had many genuine and true friends, men who understood the laws of friendship and faithfully observed them. But out of this large number, there was one in this group who excelled all the rest in his friendship for me, striving on leaving as far behind him as possible those who regarded me with indifference. He was one of those who were constantly at my side as we were engaged in the same studies and employed the same teachers. We had equal eagerness and enthusiasm for our studies and shared the same high ideals as a result of our common interests. Not only when we were attending school, but also even after we had left it, we found ourselves of the same mind when we had to decide what course of life would be best to choose. In addition to this, there were other bonds which held this accord unbroken and secure. Regarding the greatness of our fatherland, neither of us could boast more than the other, nor was I burdened with riches while he lived in poverty, but on the contrary, our means corresponded as closely as our tastes. Our families were also of the same class and everything was in keeping with our disposition.

But when the time came to pursue the blessed life of monks and the true philosophy, our balance no longer remained even. His scale rose upwards, while I, still entangled in the lusts of this world, dragged mine down, weighting it with youthful vanities, thereby forcing it to stay on a lower level. From that time on, our friendship remained as firm as ever but our intimacy was broken as our interests had changed and we no longer spent the same time together.

As soon as I began to emerge a little from the flood of worldliness, he received me with open arms. Yet we could not maintain our former equality, for he had got the start of me, and having displayed his great eagerness, he rose again above my level and soared to great heights. Being a good man, however, and placing a high value on my friendship, he withdrew from all the rest of his friends and spent all of his time with me.

He had desired to do this before, but had been prevented, as I had explained, because of my frivolous conduct. For it was impossible for a man who attended the law-courts, and was thrilled by the pleasures of the stage, to often be in the company of someone who was glued to his books and never even set foot in the market-place. When these hindrances were removed and he had brought me into the same condition of life as himself, he gave free vent to the desire that he had conceived long before. He would not leave me alone for one moment, and persistently urged that each of us should abandon our homes and share a place together. He succeeded in persuading me and the arrangements were in hand.

But the continual lamentations of my mother hindered me from granting him the favor, or rather from accepting it from him. For when she perceived that I was meditating this step, she led me to her private room and sat me on the bed where she had given birth to me. She burst into tears and then spoke words more touching that her tears: "My child," she said, "it was not the will of Heaven that I should long enjoy your father’s virtues. His death followed soon after the pangs which I endured at your birth, leaving you an orphan and me a widow before my time, with all the burdens of widowhood, which only those who have borne them can properly understand. For no words are adequate to describe the stormy condition which a young woman faces who, having just left her father’s house without any experience of the world, is suddenly compelled to shoulder cares too great for her age and sex. For, as I know too well, she has to correct the laziness of servants and be on the watch for their misconduct, to repel the schemes of relatives, and to bear with dignity the threats of public officials and their rudeness over the harsh imposition of tax rates. And if the departed one should have left a child, even when that child is a girl, she will cause great anxiety to her mother, although free from much expense and fear. But a son fills her each day with ten thousand alarms and many anxieties, to say nothing about the expense she must incur if she wishes to bring him up as a gentleman. Still, none of these thoughts persuaded me to enter into a second marriage or introduce another husband into your father’s house. No, I remained patient in the midst of the storm and uproar, and I did not shun the iron furnace of widowhood. My foremost help was the grace from above, and I found great consolation in those terrible trials by gazing continually at your face and treasuring in you a living image of my dead husband. So while you were still a baby and had not yet learned to speak, at a time when children give the greatest delight to their parents, you afforded me much comfort. Nor can you reproach me that, although I bore my widowhood bravely, I reduced your patrimony which I know has been the fate of many orphans. Besides keeping the whole of it intact, I did not omit any expense needed to give you an honorable position, even spending for this purpose some of my own fortune and from my marriage dowry.

"Yet, do not think that I am saying these things as a reproach to you. But in return for all these benefits, I ask for just one favor: do not plunge me into a second widowhood nor revive the grief which is now laid to rest, but please be patient until my death. It may be that I shall depart before long. The young indeed look forward to a distant old age, but we who have grown old, have nothing to wait for but death. When you have committed my body to the ground, and my bones have been mingled with your father’s bones, then set sail for a long voyage on whatever sea you choose. Then, there will be no one to hinder you. But as long as I am alive, be content to live with me. Do not oppose God in vain by overwhelming me with these calamities, for I have never caused you any harm."

"Of course, if you have reason to complain that I distract you with worldly cares and force you to attend to business, then pay no attention to nature’s laws, or education, or custom, or anything else, but then shun me as an enemy. On the contrary, if I do everything to provide leisure for your journey through this life, then let this bond, if nothing else, keep you by me. Even if you say that you have a thousand friends, not one will allow you to enjoy so much freedom as this, for there is no one who cares for your welfare as I do."

All this and more my mother said to me, and I repeated this to my noble friend. But far from being disheartened by these arguments, he was all the more insistent in his original requests.

While we were in this situation, he continually entreated me, and I kept refusing my assent. Suddenly, both of us were disturbed by a report that we were about to be promoted to the dignity of the priesthood. As soon as I heard this rumor, I was seized with alarm and bewilderment: with alarm, that I should be seized against my will, and with bewilderment, as I tried again and again to guess what could have entered the minds of men to form such a plan for us. For myself, I found nothing worthy of such an honor.

That noble friend of mine came to me privately, and thinking that I had not heard the rumor, begged that we might, in this instance as formerly, decide and act together. He said that he would readily follow whichever course I might pursue, whether to escape or to let ourselves be captured. Perceiving his eagerness, and considering that I would inflict a loss upon the whole body of the Church, if through my own weakness I should deprive the flock of Christ of a young man so good and so well qualified to govern, I abstained from disclosing to him the purpose which I had formed, even though I had never before concealed any of my plans from him. I now told him that it would be best to postpone our decision to another time, as it was not immediately urgent, and persuaded him not to worry about it. At the same time, I encouraged him to hope that, if such a thing should even happen to us, I would act in concert with him.

After a short time, when the one who was to ordain us had arrived, I remained in hiding. Basil, ignorant of this, was taken off on some other pretext. He submitted to the yoke, expecting from my promises that I would certainly follow him, or rather, thinking that he was following me. Seeing that he resented being seized, some of the people who were present deceived him by exclaiming how strange it was that the one generally considered to be the more hot-tempered (meaning me), had submitted to the decision of the Fathers, whereas he, who was considered a much more reasonable and submissive man, had shown himself hot-headed and conceited, unruly, restive and contradictory.

Having yielded to these remonstrances, and afterwards having learned that I had escaped capture, he came to me in deep dejection and sat by my side. Then he tried to speak, but hindered by his distress, was unable to express in words the violence to which he had been subjected. No sooner had he opened his mouth, than speech failed him, as grief cut his words short before they ever passed his lips. Seeing his tearful and agitated condition, and knowing that I was the cause, I laughed with joy, and taking his right hand, I made him embrace me. I praised God because my plan had succeeded as I had always prayed it might. But when he saw that I was delighted and beaming with joy, he understood that I had deceived him and was even more wounded and distressed.

When at last he had recovered a little from his agitation of mind, he said:

Even if you have washed your hands of me and have no further regard for me (though I do not know why), you should at least consider your own reputation. As it is, you have set every tongue wagging, and the world is saying that you have declined this ministry through love of vainglory, and no one will clear you of this accusation. As for me, I cannot even bear to go into the market place as there are so many who come up to me and reproach me every day. Whenever they see me anywhere in the city, all my intimate friends take me aside and cast the greater part of the blame upon me. They say that: "None of his plans could be kept secret from you, so you should not have concealed them but should have communicated them to us, and we would have been able to devise some plan for capturing him." I am too ashamed to tell them that I did not know that you had been plotting this trick for a long time, for fear that they should say that our friendship was a mere pretence. Even if it is so, as indeed it must be — you cannot deny it yourself after what you have just done to me — it is only right to hide our misfortune from the outside world and from those who have an indifferent opinion of us. I shrink from telling them the truth and how things really stand between us. I am compelled in future to keep silent, and stare at the ground, and avoid people who meet me. If I escape the condemnation on the former charge, I am judged as being a liar, as they will never believe that you placed Basil amongst those who are not permitted to know your secret affairs.

But this is of no great matter to me as it has seemed agreeable to you, but how shall we endure future disgrace? Some accuse you of arrogance and others of vainglory, while the more merciful accusers charge us with both of these offences and add that we have insulted those who have honored us. They say it would have served them right if we had treated them even more contemptuously. They passed over many distinguished and experienced men, and advanced mere youths, who only yesterday were immersed in the interests of the world and had never dreamed of obtaining such a dignity in order that they may, for a brief season, knit their eyebrows, wear dusky garments and put on a grave face. Those who have, from early manhood to ripe old age, diligently practiced self-discipline, are now to be placed under the authority of youths who have not even heard of the laws which ought to guide them in exercising their authority.

I am constantly assailed by persons who say such things and worse, and I am at a loss as to how to reply to them. I pray that you tell me, as I do not suppose that you took flight and incurred such hatred from such distinguished men without cause or consideration. You must have reached your decision after careful reasoning and circumspection, so I infer that you have some argument ready for your defense. Tell me, then, whether there is any good excuse which I can make to those who accuse you. I do not demand any satisfaction for the wrongs you have done to me, nor for your deceit and your treachery, nor for the advantage which you have derived from me in the past. I placed my very life in your hands, yet you have treated me with as much guile as if your concern was to guide against an enemy. And if you knew that this decision of ours was profitable, you should not have avoided the gain. If, on the contrary, you thought it harmful, you should have saved me also from the loss, as you always said that you esteemed me over others. But you have done everything to make me fall into the snare, even though you had no need of guile and hypocrisy in dealing with one who, in word and action, was always open and sincere towards you.

Nevertheless, as I said before, I do not accuse you of these things, nor do I reproach you for the lonely position in which you have placed me by bringing to an end those times together from which we derived no small pleasure and profit. All these things, I bear in silence and meekness, not that you have acted meekly in your transgression against me, but because, from the day that I cherished your friendship, I made a rule for myself that whatever sorrow you might cause me, I would never force you to apologize. You know yourself that you have afflicted no small loss on me, if at least you remember what was said about us repeatedly by strangers and by ourselves, that it was a great advantage for us to be of one mind and secure in our mutual friendship. Everyone said that our concord would be of great benefit to ourselves and to others. However, I never perceived how it could be of advantage to others, but I did say that we should at least derive this benefit from it, and that those who wished to contend with us would find us difficult to master. I never ceased to remind you of these things by saying that the time we live in are dangerous and that our enemies are many. Genuine love no longer exists and the deadly disease of envy has crept in its place. We ‘go about in the midst of snares and walk upon battlements of cities’.¹ There are many in our midst who stand ready to rejoice if misfortunes should befall us whereas it is difficult to find anyone to console us in our sorrow. Beware that by separating, we do not incur ridicule damage worse than ridicule. ‘A brother aided by a brother is like a strong city and a kingdom securely barred.’² Do not dissolve this genuine love nor break down the fortress.

I was continually saying such things and more, not suspecting anything like this, but thinking that our relationship was sound and that I was wanting gratuitously to heal the healthy. But is seems that I was unwittingly administering medicine to a sick man. Even so, I have not been fortunate enough to do any good and have gained nothing from my excess of forethought. Having discarded my advice all at once without giving it a thought, you have turned me adrift like a vessel without ballast on a boundless ocean, taking no heed of those cruel waves which I must encounter. If I happen to undergo calumny or mockery or any other kind of insult or menace which frequently occur, to whom shall I turn to for refuge, to whom shall I confide my distress, who will help me drive back my assailants and stop their assaults? Who will comfort me and prepare me to bear the ill-mannered conduct of others? There is no one since you stand aloof from this terrible strife and cannot even hear me cry. Can you now see what harm you have done? Now that you have dealt the blow, do you realize what a deadly wound you have inflicted upon me?

But let it all pass, for the past cannot be undone, nor can one find a path through pathless difficulties. What shall I say to the outside world, how shall I defend their accusations?

John: Be of good cheer, I replied, for I am not only ready to answer for myself in these matters, but I will try as well to explain those other matters you have excused me from explaining. If you like, I will make them the starting point of my defense. It would be stupidity on my part to think only of praise from the public and to try to silence their accusations. Indeed, it would be strange if I were to acquit myself in the eyes of my dearest friend that I am not wronging him, and were to treat him with indifference greater than the zeal which he has displayed towards me. By treating me with such forbearance, he has refrained from accusing me of the wrongs which he says he has suffered from me by setting his own interests aside.

What wrong have I done to you since I have decided to embark upon the sea of apology? Is it that I misled you and concealed my purpose? I did it for your benefit and for the benefit of those to whom I surrendered you, as you were both deceived.

For if deception is evil and we never have the right to make use of it, I am prepared to pay any penalty you like. If, on the other hand, you will never inflict punishment upon me, I shall subject myself to the same judgment pronounced by judges on criminals when they are convicted. If it is not always harmful, but becomes good or bad according to the intentions of those who use it, you must stop accusing me of deception and prove that I used this means for an evil end. As long as there is no proof, it would only be fair for those who wish to conduct themselves prudently, to abstain from reproaches and accusations, and even to give a friendly reception to the deceiver. A timely deception used with a right purpose has such advantages, that many persons have often had to undergo punishment for abstaining from fraud.

If you consider the history of famous generals who have enjoyed the highest reputation from the earliest times, you will find that most of their triumphs were achieved by this stratagem, and are more highly commended than those who conquer in open fight. For the latter conduct their campaigns with great expense of money and men, so that they gain noting by the victory, but suffer as much distress as those who have been defeated. Besides this, they are not even permitted to enjoy all the glory which pertains to the victory as no small part of it is reaped by those who have fallen, because in spirit they were victorious, and their defeat was only a bodily one. If they had not fallen when wounded, and if death had not come to stop them, there would have been no end to their prowess. But one who has been able to gain the victory by stratagem involves the enemy in ridicule as well as in disaster. Again, in the other case, both sides equally carry off the honors for valor, whereas in this case, they do not equally obtain those which are bestowed on wisdom. No, the prize belongs to the victors alone. What is more, they preserve, for their country, the joy of victory unimpaired. Abundant resources and multitudes of men are not like shrewdness of mind. When you use them continually in war, the supply becomes exhausted and fails its possessors, whereas the nature of wisdom increases the more it is used.

The need of deceit is found not only in war, but also in peace, in reference to the affairs of the state, and also in private life, in the dealings between husband and wife, father and son, between friends, and also children and parents. The daughter of Saul would not have rescued her husband out of her father’s hands except by deceiving him. And when her brother wanted to save from danger the very man she had rescued, he made use of the same weapons as she did.

Basil: None of this applies to me. I am not an enemy nor am I striving to hurt you, but just the opposite. I entrusted all my plans to your judgment, and always followed the path you told me to take.

John: But, my dear good friend, this is the very reason why I took the precaution of saying that it was a good thing to employ this kind of deceit, not only in war, but also in peace, and in dealing with our dearest friends.

As proof that deceit is beneficial not only to the deceivers, but also to the deceived, go to any physician and inquire how they cure their patients from disease. They will tell you that they do not rely only upon their professional skill, but sometimes they resort to deceit which helps them to restore the sick man to health. When the plans of physicians are hindered by the whims of their patients, and the obstinacy of the complaint baffles their counsels, it is necessary to put on the mask of deception as they do on the stage, in order to hide what is really taking place.

With your permission, I will relate to you one on of the many tricks which I have heard physicians devise. A man was suddenly overcome by a violent fever and his temperature kept rising. The patient rejected the remedies which could have allayed the fever but craved for a draught of pure wine. He passionately entreated all those who approached him to bring the wine and satiate this deadly craving. It would not only have inflamed his fever, but would have driven the unhappy man frantic. In this case, professional skill was baffled and at the end of its resources and quite useless. Deception stepped in and displayed its power in the way which I will now relate.

The physician took an earthen vessel straight out of the kiln and steeped it in wine. Then he drew it out empty and filled it with water. Next, he gave orders for the room where the patient was lying to be darkened with curtains so that the light might not reveal the trick. He then gave the vessel to the patient to drink from, pretending that it was filled with undiluted wine. Deceived by the smell, the man did not examine what was given to him, but convinced by the odor, and deceived by the darkness, he eagerly snatched the vessel. When he had drunk his fill, the feeling of suffocation was shaken off and he escaped the imminent peril.

Do you see the advantage of deception? If you were to collect all the tricks of physicians, the list would stretch interminably. You will find that it is not only those who heal the body who make use of this remedy, but those who treat the diseases of the soul. By this means, St. Paul won over multitudes of Jews.¹ With this intention he circumcised Timothy,² although he warned the Galatians in his letter that Christ would not profit those who were circumcised.³ For this cause, he submitted to the law,⁴ recognizing the righteousness of the Law but loss after receiving faith in Christ.⁵

Great is the power of deceit, provided it is not applied with a mischievous intention. In fact, action of this kind should not be called deceit, but rather good management, cleverness and skill, leading to ways where resources fail, and correcting defects of the mind. I should not call Phineas a murderer, although he slew two human beings with one stroke,⁶ nor Elijah, after he slaughtered a hundred soldiers and their captain ⁷ and the torrents of blood he caused to be shed by the destruction of those who sacrificed to devils.⁸ If we were to concede this and examine the deeds in themselves, not considering the intention of the doers, one could then condemn Abraham for murdering his son, ⁹ and accuse his grandson and his descendant of wickedness and deception. For the one got possession of the birthright¹⁰ and the other transferred the wealth of the Egyptians to the host of the Israelites.¹¹

But this is not the case — away with such an audacious thought! We not only acquit them of blame, but we also admire them because of these things, since God commended them for the same. He alone can justly be called a deceiver who performs the action for unjust ends. Often, it is necessary to deceive in order to obtain the greatest benefits, whereas the straightforward man does great harm to those he does not deceive.

1. Acts 21.20. 2. Acts 16.3. 3. Gal. 5.2. 4. 1 Cor. 9.20. 5. Phil. 3.7. 6. Num. 25.7-8.

I could have argued at greater length that it is possible to use the power of deception for a good end, or rather that it

is not right to call that kind of action deceit at all but an admirable kind of good management. But since I have already said enough, it would be irksome and tedious to lengthen my discourse on the subject. Now it is up to you to show that I have not employed this method to your advantage.

Basil: What kind of advantage have I derived from this good management or wise policy, or whatever you wish to call it, in order to persuade me that I have not been deceived by you?

John: What advantage could be greater than to be seen doing those things which Christ, with his own lips, declared to be proof of love for Him? Addressing the leader of the apostles, Christ said, "Peter, lovest thou me?"; and when he confessed that he did, the Lord added, "If thou lovest me, tend my sheep." The Master asked the disciple if He was loved by him, not in order to learn the truth — why should He who penetrates the hearts of men — but to teach us how great an interest He takes in the superintendence of these sheep. This being evident, it will likewise be manifest that a great and indescribable reward will be in store for him who labors for these sheep upon which Christ places such a high value. When we see anyone bestowing care upon members of our household or upon our flocks, we take this concern for them as a sign of love towards us, although they can all be bought for money. With how great a gift then will He give as a reward to those who tend the flock which He purchased, not for money or any such thing, but by His own death when He gave His blood for His flock’s ransom. Therefore, when the disciple said, "Thou knowest, Lord, that I love Thee," and invoked the beloved one Himself as a witness of his love, the Savior did not stop there but went on to describe the proof of love. He did not want to prove how much Peter loved Him, but how He loved His own Church. He desired to teach Peter and all of us that we also should bestow much zeal upon the same.

Why did God not spare His only-begotten Son but instead surrendered Him? It was to reconcile to Himself those who were His enemies and make them His chosen people.¹ Why did He shed His blood? It was that He might win these sheep which He entrusted to Peter and his successors. Those words of Christ, then, were natural when He said: "Who is the faithful and wise servant whom his Lord shall set over His household?"² Again, the words are those of one who is in doubt, yet the speaker did not utter them in doubt. On the contrary, just as He asked Peter whether he loved Him, not from any need to learn the affection of the disciple, but from a desire to show the exceeding depth of His own love. Now, also when He says, "Who then is the faithful and wise servant whom his Lord shall make ruler over his household? He speaks not out of ignorance for the faithful and wise, but as desiring to set forth the rarity of such a character and the greatness of this office. Observe at any rate how great the reward is: "He will set him over all that he hath."³

Will you, then, still contend that you were not rightly deceived when you are about to superintend the things which belong to God, and are doing what the Lord said to Peter so that he would surpass the rest of God’s apostles? For he said, "Lovest thou me, Peter, more than these? Tend my sheep." He might have said to him, "If thou lovest me, practice fasting, sleeping on the bare ground, and prolonged vigils; champion the wronged, be as a father to the fatherless and as a husband to their mother."⁴ In fact, setting aside all these things, what does He say? "Tend my sheep."

Many women or men under authority might easily perform the other things I have mentioned. But when someone is required to preside over the Church and is entrusted with the care of so many souls, then let womankind give way before the magnitude of the task, and indeed most men also. Bring before us those who far excel all others and who surpass the rest in spiritual stature, as Saul was in bodily stature above the Hebrew nation, or rather far more! Let us not look only "from the shoulder and upward"⁵ be the standard of inquiry, but let the distinction between shepherd and his sheep be as great as that between rational man and irrational creatures, not to say even greater, since matters of much greater importance are at stake.

He who loses sheep, either through the ravages of wolves or the attacks of robbers, or through murrain or some other accident, might perhaps obtain some indulgence from the owner of the flock. Even if he were called upon to pay compensation from the owner of the flock, the penalty would be only a matter of money. However, he who has human beings entrusted to him, the rational flock of Christ, incurs a penalty for the loss of the sheep which goes beyond material things, and risks not money but of his own soul. Moreover, he has a far greater and difficult struggle. His fight is neither with wolves, nor his fear with robbers, nor to consider how he may protect the flock from pestilence. With whom then has he to fight? With whom has he to wrestle? Listen to the words of St. Paul, "Our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, and against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in high places."⁶ Do you see the terrible multitude of enemies and their fierce legions, not armed with steel, but endued with a nature which is equivalent to a suit of armor?

Would you like to be shown another cruel and savage army lying in wait for his flock? This also you can behold from the same post of observation. For he who has discoursed to us concerning the others also points out these enemies to us speaking in such a manner as this: "These are the works of the flesh which are manifest: fornication, adultery, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulation, wrath, strife, back-biting, whispering, swellings, tumults,"⁷and more besides these. For he did not list them all, but left us to understand the rest from these examples.

Moreover, in the case of the shepherds of irrational creatures, those who want to destroy the flock when they see the guardian take flight, cease making war with him and are content to seize his animals. Even in this case, if they should capture the whole flock, they do not leave the shepherd unmolested but attack him all the more and with more daring, until they have either overthrown him or are beaten themselves. Again, the afflictions of the sheep are manifest, either by famine or pestilence, wounds or anything else that might distress them. This might be a great help towards the relief of those who are oppressed in these ways.

And there is yet another fact greater than this which facilitates release from this kind of infirmity. What is it? Those shepherds with great authority compel the sheep to accept the remedy even if they do not willingly submit to it. It is easy to bind them when cautery or cutting is required, and to keep them inside the fold for a long time whenever it is expedient, and to bring them one kind of food instead of another, and to cut them off from their supply of water. The shepherds may decide with perfect ease other remedies conducive to the health of their sheep.

In the case of human infirmities, it is not easy in the first place for a man to discern them, for no man "knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him."⁸ How, then, can anyone apply the remedy for the disease if he does not know its character and often is unable to understand it, even if he should happen to be sick with it himself? When it becomes apparent, it causes him yet more trouble, for it is not possible to treat all men with the same authority with which the shepherd treats his sheep. Here too, it is possible to bind and to restrain from food and to use cautery or the knife, but the decision to receive treatment depends on the will of the patient, and does no lie with the man who administers the medicine. This was also perceived by that wonderful man, St. Paul, when he said to the Corinthians, "Not that we have dominion over your faith, but are helpers of your joy."⁹ For Christians above all men are not permitted forcibly to correct the failings of those who sin. When secular judges have captured wrongdoers under the law, they show their great authority by preventing men from following their own devices. But in our case however, the wrongdoer must be made better by persuasion and not by force. The authority to restrain sinners has not been given us by law, and even if it were, we could not exercise our power since God rewards those who abstain from evil by choice and not by force. For this reason, much tact is needed so that our patients may be induced to submit willingly to the treatment prescribed by the priests, and also that they be grateful to them for the cure. If a man becomes restive when he is bound, as it is in his power to do so, he makes his sufferings worse. If he should pay no heed to the words which cut like steel, he inflicts another wound by his contempt, and the intention to heal becomes the occasion of a more serious disease. For it is not possible for anyone to cure a man by compulsion against his will.

What, then, should one do? If you deal too leniently with one who needs deep surgery, and do not make a deep incision in the one who requires it, you remove one dart of the sore but leave the other. If, on the other hand, you make the required incision unsparingly, often the patient, in despair at his sufferings, will throw aside both remedy and bandage at once, and promptly throw himself down headlong, "breaking the yoke and bursting the bond."¹⁰ I could tell you of many who have run into extreme evils because the due penalty of their sins was exacted.

In applying punishment, it is not right to exact a penalty by proportioning it to the scale of the offence. It is better to keep in mind the disposition of the sinner, for fear that by wishing to mend what is torn, you make the tear worse, and in your eagerness to restore what is fallen, you could cause a worse fall. Those who are weak and careless and generally addicted to the pleasures of the world, and who take pride on their birth and rank, may, if gently and gradually brought to repent their errors, be at least partially delivered from the evils that possess them. For if anyone where to inflict the discipline all at once, he would deprive them of this slight chance of amendment. Once the soul has been forced to dispel shame, it becomes callous and neither yields to kindly words nor bends to threats. No longer susceptible to gratitude, it becomes far worse than that the city which the prophet reproached saying, "Thou hadst the face of a harlot; thou refusedst to be ashamed before all.¹¹

So the pastor needs much discretion, and a myriad of eyes to observe on every side the habit of the soul. For many are uplifted to pride, then sink into despair of their salvation, from their inability to endure bitter remedies, while others, who because they do not pay a penalty equivalent to their sins, fall into negligence and become far worse, and are led to commit greater sins. It is proper therefore for the priest to leave none of these things unexamined, and after a thorough inquiry into all of them, he must apply such remedies as he has considered appropriate to each case lest his zeal prove to be in vain. One can see that he has much to do, not in this matter only, but also in the work of knitting together the severed members of the Church.

The pastor of sheep has his flock following him wherever he may lead them. If any should stray off the straight path, and deserting the good pasture feed in unproductive or rugged places, a loud shout is enough to collect them and bring back to the fold those who have been parted from it. But if a man wanders away from the right path, great exertion, perseverance and patience are required. He cannot be dragged back by force, nor can he be constrained by fear, but he must be led back by persuasion to the truth from which he originally swerved. The pastor ought to be of a noble spirit so as not to despond or despair of the salvation of those who wander from the fold. He must continually reason with himself and say: "Peradventure God will give them the knowledge of the truth and they may be freed from the snare of the devil."¹²

That is why the Lord, speaking to the disciples, said:

"Who, then, is the faithful and wise servant?" He who disciplines himself compasses only his own advantage. However, the benefit of the pastoral function extends to the whole people. The man who dispenses money to the needy, or otherwise succors the oppressed, benefits his neighbors to some extent, but less than the priest, as the body is inferior to the soul. It is not surprising therefore when the Lord said that zeal for the flock was a token of love for Himself.

Basil: But you—do you not love Christ?"

John: Yes, I love Him, and shall never cease loving Him; but I fear lest I should provoke Him whom I love.

Basil: Could any paradox be more obscure? Christ commanded him who loves Him to tend His sheep, and yet you say that you decline to tend them because you love Him who gave this command!

John: What I said is no paradox, but is very clear and simple. If I were well qualified to administer this office as Christ desired it, and then shunned it, my remark might be open to doubt. Since the infirmity of my spirit renders me useless for this ministry, why does what I say deserve to be called in question? I fear that if I took the flock in hand when it was in good condition and well nourished, and then wasted it through my ineptitude, I may provoke against me God who so loved the flock that He gave Himself up for its salvation and redemption.

Basil: You speak in jest. For if you were in earnest, I know otherwise by means of these very words, whereby you have endeavored to dispel my despondency. I knew already that you had deceived and betrayed me, but now that you are trying to clear yourself of my accusations, I understand and realize more fully the extent of the evils into which you have led me. If you withdrew yourself from this ministry because you were conscious that your spirit was not equal to the burden of the task, you should have rescued me from it first, even if I had been full of eagerness for it, to say nothing of having confided to you the entire decision of these matters. As it is, you have looked solely to your own interest and neglected mine. If you had indeed entirely neglected them, then I should have been content, but you plotted to facilitate my capture by those who wished to seize me.

You cannot even take shelter in the argument that public opinion deceived you and induced you to imagine great and wonderful things concerning me. For I am not one of your famous and distinguished men, and even if this had been the case, you ought not to have preferred public opinion to the truth. If I had never permitted you to enjoy my company you might have seemed to have a reasonable pretext for being guided in your vote by public report. But since no one has such thorough knowledge of my affairs as you, and if you are acquainted with my character better than my parents and those who brought me up, what argument can you use which will be convincing enough to persuade those who hear you that you did not deliberately push me into this danger? Tell me, what answer shall I make to your accusers?

John: No, I will not proceed to those questions until I have resolved that which concerns you alone, even if you were to ask me ten thousand times to dispose of these charges.

You said that ignorance would have brought me forgiveness and freed me from all accusation if I had brought you into your present position without knowing anything about you. However, as I did not betray you in ignorance but was intimately acquainted with your affairs, I was deprived of all reasonable pretext and excuse. But I say precisely the reverse because in such matters careful scrutiny in needed. He who is going to present anyone as qualified for the priesthood must not be content with public report only but above all and before all, he should investigate the man’s character.

For when blessed Paul said, "Moreover he must have good testimony from them that are without,"¹he does not assign precedence to such testimony over the scrutiny required in such cases. For after much previous discourse, he mentioned this additional testimony to prove that one must not be content with this alone for elections of this kind, but must take it into consideration along with the rest. For it often happens that public report is false, but when careful investigation proceeds, no further danger need be anticipated from it. For he did not simply say, "he must have a good report," but added the words, "from them which are without," thereby wishing to show that before the report of those without, he must carefully examine the man himself. Since then, as I myself knew your affairs better than your parents, as you yourself also acknowledged, I might deserve to be released from all blame.

Basil: That is the very reason why you should not escape punishment if any one decides to indite you. Do you not remember hearing from me, and often learning from my conduct, the weakness of my character? Were you not perpetually taunting me for my faint heartedness because I was so easily dejected by ordinary cares?

John: I don’t deny that I remember often hearing such things from you, but if I ever taunted you, I did it in sport and not in earnest. However, I will not argue about these matters, and I claim the same degree of forbearance from you while I wish to mention some of the good qualities you possess. If you attempt to convict me of saying what is untrue, I shall not spare you, but will show that you say these things in self-depreciation rather than with a view the truth. I will employ no evidence but your own deeds to demonstrate the truth of my assertion.

The first question I wish to ask of you is this: do you know how great is the power of love? By omitting all the miracles which were to be performed by the apostles, Christ said, "Hereby shall men know that ye are my disciples if ye love one another."² And Paul said that love is the fulfillment of the law,³and that without it, no spiritual gift has any profit.⁴ This is the distinguishing mark of Christ’s disciples, the highest of all spiritual gifts, and I saw that this was deeply implanted in your soul and teeming with fruit.

Basil: I acknowledge indeed that the matter is one of deep concern to me, and I earnestly endeavor to keep this commandment. But I have not even half fulfilled it, as even you yourself can bear witness if you would abandon partiality and simply respect the truth.

John: Well, then, I shall turn to the evidence and shall now do what I threatened, providing that you wish to disparage yourself rather than to speak the truth. I will mention a fact that has just occurred in order to prevent anyone of suspecting me of attempting to obscure the truth. Because of the great lapse of time in relating long past events, oblivion might then prevent any objection being made to the things which I might say with a view to gratification.

For when one of our intimate friends was in extreme peril, having been falsely accused of insult and folly, you then flung yourself into the midst of the danger without having been summoned by any one or appealed to by the person who was about to be involved in danger. Such was the fact. But, to convict you from your own words as well, I will remind you of the words you uttered when some did not approve of this zeal while others commended and admired it. "For I do not know otherwise to love than by giving up my life when it is necessary to save any of my friends who is in danger." This repeats in different words, but with the same meaning, what Christ said to his disciples when he laid down the definition of perfect love and said: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."⁵If, then, it is impossible to find greater love than this, you have attained its limit. Both you, and your deeds and words, have crowned the summit. That is why I betrayed you. That is why I contrived that plot. Do I now convince you that it was not from malicious intent nor from any desire to thrust you into danger, but from a persuasion of your future usefulness that I dragged you into this course?

Basil: Do you then suppose that the power of love is sufficient to correct one’s fellowmen?

John: Certainly it goes a long way towards it. But if you want me to give examples of your wisdom as well, I will proceed to do so and will prove that your understanding exceeds your loving-kindness.

Basil: (At these remarks Basil blushed scarlet and said:) "Let my character be now dismissed for it was not about this that I originally demanded an explanation. But if you have any just answer to make to outsiders, I would gladly hear what you have to say. Wherefore, abandoning this vain contest, tell me what defense I shall make, both to those who have honored us and to those who are distressed on their account, considering themselves to have been insulted.

John: This is the point that I am finally anxious to come to. Now that my explanation to you has been completed, I shall easily turn to this part of my defense. What, then, is the accusation made by these persons, and what are their charges?

Basil: They say that they have been insulted and grievously wronged by us because we have not accepted the honor which they wished to confer upon us.

John: In the first place, I say that no account should be taken of the insult shown to men, seeing that, by paying honor to them, we should be compelled to offend God. I should also say to those who are displeased, that it is not safe to take offence at these things as it does them a great deal of harm. For I think that those who live in God and look to Him alone, ought to be so spiritually disposed as to not consider such a thing an insult even if they were dishonored a thousand times.

That I have not gone so far as even to think of daring anything of this kind is manifest from what I am about to say. For, if indeed, I had been induced by arrogance and vainglory to assent to my accusers, as you have often said some people slanderously affirm, I should have been one of the most iniquitous of mankind having treated my great and excellent benefactors with contempt. For if we deserve to be punished for wronging those who have never wronged us, how should we honor those who have spontaneously preferred to honor us? For no one could possibly say that they were requiting me for any benefits, small or great, which they had received at my hands. How great a punishment then would one deserve if one requited them in the contrary manner. But if such things never entered my mind, and I declined the heavy burden with quite a different intention, why do they refuse to forgive me, even if they do not approve, but accuse me of having selfishly spared my own soul? So, far from having insulted the men in question, I can say that I have even honored them by my refusal. Do not be surprised at the paradoxical nature of my remark for I shall supply a speedy solution to it.

If I had accepted the office, those men who take pleasure in speaking evil might have suspected and said many things concerning my election and about those who appointed me. For instance, they could have said that they regarded wealth and admired splendor of rank, or had been induced by flattery to promote me to this honor. Indeed, I cannot say whether someone might not have suspected that they had been bribed. Moreover, they would have said, "Christ called fishermen, tentmakers, and publicans 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, they receive and admire him. Why have they passed over those who have undergone much toil in the service of the Church, and suddenly drag into this dignity one who has never experienced any labors of this kind, but has spent all his youth in the vain study of secular learning?"

These things and more they might have said if I had accepted the office, but they no longer can. Every pretext for slander has been removed. They can neither accuse me of flattery, nor can they accuse the others of receiving bribes, unless some of them choose to act like madmen. For how could one who used flattery and expended money in order to gain the dignity have abandoned it to others when he might have obtained it? For this would be like a man who had bestowed much labor on his land in order that the cornfield might be laden with abundant crops and that his presses overflow with wine, and after innumerable toil and great expense of money, were to surrender the fruits to others just when it was time to reap his corn and gather in his vintage. Do you see that although what was said might be far from the truth, nevertheless, those who wished to calumniate the electors would then have had a pretext for alleging that the choice was made without fair judgment and consideration. But as it is, I have prevented them from uttering a single word on the subject. Such then, and more, would have been their remarks at the outset.

After undertaking the ministry, I would not have been able to defend myself daily against accusers, even if I had done everything faultlessly, to say nothing of the many mistakes which I inevitably would have made owing to my youth and inexperience. But now, I have saved the electors from this kind of accusation also, whereas in the other case, I should have involved them in innumerable reproaches. For what would people not have said? "They have committed 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 laughing stock." But now, "all iniquity shall stop her mouth."¹ For although they may say these things on your account, you will speedily teach them by your acts that understanding is not to be estimated by age, and gray hair is not the test of an elder, and that the young man should not be absolutely excluded from the ministry but only the novice, and the difference between the two is great.

Such then is the reply I should give in answer to the charge of insulting those who would have honored me. What I have already said might be sufficient to prove that in refusing this office, I had no desire to put them to shame. I will now endeavor to make it evident, to the best of my ability, to prove to you that I was not puffed up by arrogance.

If the offer of a generalship or a kingdom had been made to me, and if I had made the same decision, anyone might naturally have suspected me of this fault. I would have been found guilty by all men, not of arrogance but of senseless folly. But when the priesthood is offered to me, which exceeds a kingdom as much as the spirit differs from the flesh, will anyone dare to accuse me of disdain? Is it not preposterous to charge with folly those who reject small things, but when they do the same in matters of pre-eminent importance, they drop the charge of madness and substitute accusations of pride? It is like accusing a man of insanity and not of pride because he looked with contempt on a herd of oxen and refused to be the herdsman. Yet would they say that a man who declined the empire of the world, and the command of all armies of the earth, was not mad but inflated with pride.

This assuredly is not the case, and those who say such things injure themselves more than me. Merely to imagine that it is possible for human nature to despise this dignity shows the opinion of the office held by those who bring this charge. They did not consider it to be something of no great account, as such a suspicion would never have occurred to them. For why is it that no one has ever dared to entertain such a suspicion with reference to the dignity of the angels, and to say that arrogance is the reason why human nature would not aspire to the angelic rank? It is because we imagine great things concerning those powers, and this prevents us from believing that a man can conceive anything greater than that honor. Wherefore, it might be more just to accuse with arrogance those who have accused me of it. For they would never have suspected this of others if they had not previously depreciated the matter as being insignificant.

If they say that I have done this with a view to glory, they will be convicted of fighting openly against themselves and falling into their own snare. For I do not know what kind of arguments they could have sought in preference to these if they had wished to release me of the charge of vainglory. For if this desire had ever entered my mind, I should have accepted the office rather than decline it. Why? Simply because it would have brought me much glory. Would not all men be persuaded to anticipate great and marvelous things of me if such a young person as myself, having only just abandoned secular pursuits, should suddenly be deemed by all worthy of admiration by being advanced to such an honor by receiving more votes than those who have spent all their life in labors of this kind! But as it is, the greater part of the Church does not know me even by name. Even my refusal of the office will not be manifest to all but only to a few. I am not even sure that all of these know it for certain, but probably many of them either imagine that I was not elected at all, or that I was rejected after the election as being unsuitable, and not that I avoided the office of my own accord.

Basil: But those who know the truth will be surprised and admire your action.

John: And yet according to you, these are the people who falsely accuse me of vainglory and pride. From whom then can I expect praise? From the many? But they do not know the actual fact. Well then, from the few? Here again, the matter is misconstrued to my disadvantage. For the only reason you have come here now is to learn what answer you should give them. What shall I now say on account of these things? Wait a moment, and you will clearly perceive that even if all know the truth, they need not have convicted me of pride and love of glory. In addition to this, there is another consideration that there is great danger involved, not only for those who dare to take this attitude, but also in suspecting it in others.

The priestly office is discharged on earth, but it is ranked amongst the heavenly ordinances. And naturally so, for neither man, nor angel, nor archangel, nor any other created power but the Paraclete Himself instituted this vocation, and persuaded men, while still abiding in the flesh, to represent the ministry of angels. The consecrated priest, therefore, must be as pure as if he were standing in heaven itself, in the midst of those powers.

The symbols which existed before the ministry of grace were fearful and of great consequence such as the bells, the pomegranates, the stones on the breastplate and on the ephod, the girdle, the miter, the long robe, the plate of gold, the Holy or Holies, and the deep silence within. But if anyone should examine the symbols that belong to the dispensation of grace, he will find that, as small as they are, they are fearful and awe-inspiring. The statement concerning the Law is true here also: "The splendor that once was is now no splendor at all; it is outshone by a splendor greater still."¹For when you see the Lord sacrificed, and laid upon the altar, and the priest, standing and praying over the sacrifice, and all the worshippers being tinged with that precious blood, can you then think that you are still amongst men and standing upon the earth? On the contrary, are you not at once transported to Heaven, and casting out every carnal thought from your soul, are you not then, in spirit and with pure reason, able to contemplate the things which are in Heaven? Oh, the wonder of it! Oh, the loving-kindness of God to men! 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. All this is done with the eyes of faith! Do you think these things could be despised, or do they make it possible for anyone to be superior to them?

Would you like to be shown the exceeding sanctity of this office? Picture Elijah and the vast multitude standing around Him, and the sacrifice laid upon the stone altar, and all the rest of the people hushed into deep silence while the prophet alone offers up prayer. Suddenly, the rush of fire falls from Heaven upon the sacrifice. These are marvelous things, charged with terror. Turn, then, from this scene to the rites which are celebrated today. They are not only marvelous to behold but transcend terror. There stands the priest, not bringing down fire from Heaven, but the Holy Spirit. He makes prolonged supplication, not that some flame from on high may consume the offerings, but that grace descending on the sacrifice may thereby enlighten the souls of all, and render them more refulgent than silver purified by fire. Who can despise this most awe inspiring mystery unless he is mad and senseless? Do you not know that no human soul could ever have endured that fire in the sacrifice, but all would have been utterly consumed except for the powerful help of God’s grace?

Can anyone consider how great a thing it is for a man of flesh and blood to be able to approach that blessed and pure nature. He will then clearly see what great honor the grace of the Spirit bestows to priests. It is through them that these rites are celebrated and other rites no less inferior to these, both in respect to our dignity and our salvation.

For those who inhabit the earth and make their abode, they are entrusted with the administration of heavenly things and have received an authority which God has not given to angels or archangels. For has it not been said to them, "What things soever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound also in heaven; and what things soever ye shall loose, shall be loosed"2 They who rule on earth have authority to bind only the body, whereas this binding lays hold of the soul and penetrates the heavens. What priests do on earth God ratifies above and the Master confirms the sentence of his servants. God has given them all manner of authority for He says, "Whose soever sins ye forgive, they are forgiven, and whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained."³ What authority could be greater than this? "The Father hath given all judgement unto the Son."⁴ But I see that the Son has placed it all in their hands for they have been raised to this dignity as if they were already translated to Heaven, and had transcended human nature, and freed from the passions to which we are liable.

Moreover, if a king should bestow this honor upon any of his subjects, authorizing him to cast into prison whom he pleased, and then release him at will, he becomes the admiration and envy of all. But although the priest has received from God a greater authority, as Heaven is more precious than earth, and souls more precious than bodies, it appears to some to have received so slight an honor, that they imagine that someone entrusted with this gift will despise it. Away with such madness! It is sheer madness to despise such a dignity without which we cannot attain salvation or God’s good promises.

For if a man "cannot enter into the kingdom of Heaven except he be born again of water and the Spirit,"⁵and if he that eateth not the Lord’s flesh and drinketh not His blood is cast out of everlasting life,⁶as all these things can be accomplished only by means of the blessed hands of the priest, how can anyone, without their help, escape the fire of Gehenna or win those crowns which are reserved for the victorious? They are the only ones entrusted with spiritual travail and the birth which comes through baptism. Through them, we put on Christ and are united with the Son of God, and become members of that blessed Head. Wherefore, they might not only be more justly feared by us than rulers and kings, but also be more honored than parents, since these begot us "of blood and the will of the flesh." The priests are the authors of our birth from God, that blessed regeneration which is the true freedom and the adoption according to grace.

The Jewish priests had authority to release the body from leprosy, or to not release it, but only to examine those who were already released. And you know how much the office of priest was contended for at that time. But our priests have received authority to deal not only with bodily leprosy, but spiritual uncleanness, and not just to certify its cure but to actually cure it. Those who look down upon these priests are far more accursed than Dathan and his company, and deserve severe punishment. For the later, although they claimed to the dignity which did not belong to them, nevertheless had an excellent opinion concerning it, shown by the eagerness with which they pursued it. But the people we are considering have done just the opposite, at a time when the priesthood has been better regulated and enhanced. They have displayed an audacity which exceeds that of the others, although manifested in a contrary way. For there is not an equal amount of contempt involved in coveting an honor which does not pertain to one, and making light of it, but the latter exceeds the former as much as scorn differs from admiration. What soul then is so sordid as to despise such great advantages? No one, I should say, except the victim of some demonic impulse.

To return to the topic from which I digressed, God has bestowed a power on priests greater than that of our natural parents. The difference between the two differs as much as the present and the future life. Our natural parents bring us into this life only, but priests into the life to come. Natural parents cannot avert death from their offspring, or repel disease. But priests have often saved a sick soul, or one which was on the point of perishing, by making the punishment milder for some, and preventing others from ever incurring it, not only by instruction and admonition but also through helping them by prayer. They have the authority to remit sins, not only at the time of regeneration, but afterwards too. "Is any among you sick? 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 shall save him that is sick, and the Lord shall raise him up, and if he have committed sins, they shall be forgiven him."⁷ Again, our natural parents are unable to help their children if they come into conflict with the prominent and powerful in the world, but priests have often reconciled, not rulers and kings, but God Himself when His wrath has often been provoked against them.

Will anyone after this still dare to condemn me for arrogance? I think that after what I have said, such reverence will fill the souls of the hearers that they will no longer condemn those who avoid the office of arrogance and fear, but only those who seek it of their own accord and are determined to obtain this dignity for themselves.

If it is true that those who are entrusted with civic government have sometimes destroyed cities, and also ruined themselves through lack of discretion and vigilance, then how much strength and power from above must a man need to avoid sin, whose task is to adorn the Bride of Christ?

No man loved Christ more than Paul; no man exhibited greater zeal than he; and no man was endowed with more grace. Nevertheless, after all these great advantages, it is with fear and trembling for his authority that he governs those entrusted to him. He says, "I fear, lest as the serpent beguiled Eve, so your thoughts should be corrupted from the simplicity which is towards Christ."¹ And again, "I was with you in fear and in much trembling.² Yet he was a man who had been "caught up to the third Heaven"³and made "partaker of the unspeakable mysteries of God,⁴and endured as many "deaths"⁵as he had lived days after he became a believer. He was a man who did not want to use the authority given him by Christ in case any of his converts should be offended.⁶

If, then, he who went beyond the ordinances of God, and nowhere sought advantage for himself but only for those under him, and was always so full of fear when he considered the magnitude of his responsibility, what will become of those who seek their own advantage, and fail to go beyond the commandments of Christ and for the most part, transgress them? "Who is weak," he says, "and I am not weak? Who is offended and I burn not?"⁷ That is what a priest ought to be like, or rather, not just like that, for these are small things, and really nothing in comparison with what I am going to say.

And what is that? "I could wish," he says, "that I were anathema from Christ for my brethren’s sake, my kinsmen according to the flesh."⁸ If anyone can utter such a speech, if anyone has the soul capable of such a prayer, he might justly be blamed if he evaded the priesthood. But if anyone falls as short of that standard as much as I do, he deserves to be hated for accepting the office, and not for having avoided it.

If those who had the right of conferring a military honor were to drag forward a coppersmith, or a shoemaker, or some such artisan for election to a generalship, and entrust the army to his hands, I should not praise the wretched man if he did not flee, and do all in his power to avoid plunging himself into such a disaster.

If, indeed, it is sufficient to bear the name of pastor, and to undertake haphazardly the work in hand without risk, then blame me of vainglory if you like. If on the contrary, the man who accepts this responsibility needs great understanding, and before that, the great grace of God, an upright character and purity of life, and more than human goodness, then do not deprive me of forgiveness if I am unwilling to perish in vain without a cause.

Moreover, if anyone in charge of a full-sized merchant ship, fully equipped with rowers, and laden with valuable freight, were to station me at the helm and bid me to cross the Aegean or the Tyrrhenian Sea, I should recoil from the proposal at once. If anyone asked me why, I should say, "To save sinking the ship!" When the loss concerns material wealth, and the danger extends only to bodily death, no one will blame those who exercise great prudence. Where the fate of the shipwrecked is to fall, not into the ocean but into the abyss of fire, and what awaits them is not that which severs the soul from the body but it is the death which consigns both together to eternal punishment, shall I incur your wrath and hate because I did not plunge headlong into so great an evil? I pray and beseech you not to. I know how weak and puny my soul is. I know the magnitude of this ministry and the great difficulty of the work. More stormy billows vex the soul of the priest than the gales that trouble the sea.

First of all, there is the dreadful rock of vainglory, more dangerous than the Sirens’ rock of which the fable-mongers tell such marvelous tales. Many were able to sail past that and escape unscathed. But to me, this is so dangerous that even now, when no necessity of any kind impels me into that abyss, I am unable to stay clear of the snare. If anyone entrusted this charge to me, it would be the same as if he tied my hands behind my back, and delivered me to the wild beasts dwelling on that rock to rend me in pieces day by day. And what are those beasts? They are wrath, despondency, envy, strife, slanders, accusations, lying, hypocrisy, intrigue, anger against those who have done no harm, pleasure at the indecorous acts of fellow priests, sorrow at their prosperity, love of praise, desire of honor which drives the human soul headlong to perdition, doctrines devised to please, servile flatteries, ignoble flattery, contempt of the poor, paying court to the rich, senseless and mischievous honors, and harmful favors which endanger giver and receiver alike, sordid fear fit only for the basest of slaves, the abolition of plain speaking, much affectation of humility, banishment of truth, the suppression of convictions and reproofs, or rather the excessive use of them against the poor, while no one dares so much as to open his lips against those who yield power. For all these wise beasts and more are bred upon that rock of which I have spoken. And those people whom they have once captured are inevitably dragged down into such a depth of servitude, that even to please women, they often do many things which it is better not to mention.

The divine law has excluded women from the ministry, but they endeavor to thrust themselves into it, and since they can effect nothing for themselves, they do all through the agency of others. They have become invested with so much power that they can appoint or eject priests at their will. In fact, things are turned upside down, and the proverbial saying may be seen realized, "the ruled lead the rulers." It is bad enough if they were men but they are women who have not received a commission to teach. Why do I say teach? St. Paul did not even allow them to speak in Church.⁹ But I have heard someone say that they have obtained such freedom of speech, that they even rebuke the prelates of the Churches, and censure them more severely than masters would their slaves.

But let not any one suppose that I subject all to these charges, for there are many who are superior to these entanglements and exceed in number those who have been caught in them. Nor would I indeed make the priesthood responsible for these evils. God forbid that I should be such a fool! Wise men do not say that the sword is to blame for murder, nor wine for drunkenness, nor strength for outrage, nor courage for foolhardiness. No, they lay the blame on those who make an improper use of the gifts which have been bestowed upon them by God, and punish them accordingly. The priestly office might well accuse us of not handling it rightly. For it is not itself a cause of the evils already mentioned, but we, who as far as lies our power, have defiled it with so much pollution by entrusting it to commonplace men who readily accept what is offered them without having first acquired a knowledge of their own souls, or considered the gravity of the office. And when they come to exercise they ministry, they are blinded by inexperience, and they overwhelm with innumerable evils the people who have been committed to their care.

This is the thing that nearly happened to me, had not God speedily 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 originate? For my part, I believe that their only source is the inconsiderate and random way in which prelates are chosen and appointed. For the head ought to be the strongest part, in order to be able to regulate and control the evil exhalations which arise from the rest of the body as well. To prevent this coming to pass, God kept me in the position of the "feet" which was the rank originally assigned to me.

There are many other qualities, Basil, besides those already mentioned, which the priest ought to have, but which I do not possess. Above all, he must purify his soul of ambition for the office. For if he happens to have a natural inclination for this dignity, a stronger flame is kindled as soon as he attains it, and the man being taken completely captive will endure innumerable evils in order to keep a secure hold upon it. He will even resort to flattery, or submit to something base and ignoble, or spend large sums of money. I will not, at this time, speak of the murders with which some have filled the Churches with, or the desolation which they have brought upon cities in contending for the dignity, lest some persons should think what I say is incredible.

I believe that one ought to exercise so much caution in the matter as to shun the burden of the office, and when one has entered upon it, not to wait for the judgement of others, should any fault be committed which warrants deposition, but anticipate it and depose yourself from the dignity. In this way, a man may probably gain God’s mercy. But if he clings to a position for which he is not fit, he deprives himself of all forgiveness, and kindles the wrath of God by adding a second error more offensive than the first. But no one will endure the strain, for it is a terrible temptation to covet this honor. In saying this, I do not contradict St. Paul, but entirely agree with his words. For he says: "If any man seeketh the office of a bishop, he desireth a good work."¹ Now I have not said that it is a terrible thing to desire the work, but only the authority and power.

I think one ought to expel this desire from the soul with all possible earnestness, not permitting it at the outset to be possessed by such a feeling, so that he may always act with freedom. For he who does not desire to show that he is in possession of this authority, does not fear its loss either. Not fearing this, he will be able to act with the freedom which befits Christian men. But those who fear and dread deposition from this office endure a bitter servitude, filled with all kinds of evils, and are often compelled to offend both man and God.

But the soul ought not to be affected in this way. As in warfare, we see noble-spirited soldiers fighting willingly and falling bravely, so those who have attained to this stewardship should be content to be consecrated to the dignity or removed from it, as befits Christian men, knowing that such deposition earns a crown no less than the office itself.

For when anyone suffers anything of this kind because he will not submit to something which is unbecoming or unworthy of this dignity, he procures a greater punishment for those who wrongfully depose him and a greater reward for himself. "Blessed are ye," says our Lord, "when men shall reproach you and persecute you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely for my sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is your reward in Heaven."² This is surely the case when one is expelled by those of his own rank, either through envy, or with a view to please others, or through hatred, or from any other wrong motive. But when he gets this treatment from his enemies, I do not think any argument is needed to prove what great gain they confer upon him by their wickedness.

So we must be thoroughly on our guard and make a careful search to prevent any spark of this desire to be secretly smouldering somewhere. It is much to be desired that those who are originally free from this passion should also be able to avoid it when they have lighted upon this office. If anyone cherishes in himself this terrible and savage monster before he obtains the honor, there is no telling into what a furnace he will fling himself into after he has attained it. For my own part, I possess this desire to a high degree, and do not suppose that I would ever tell you what was untrue in self-disparagement. Combined with other reasons, this alarmed me and impelled me to take flight. For just as lovers of a human person suffer more severe torment from their passion as long as they are permitted to be near the objects of their affection, they throw off their frenzy when they are as far way as possible from these objects of desire. Also, when those who desire this dignity are near it, the evil becomes intolerable, but when they cease to hope for it, the desire is extinguished together with the expectation.

This single motive then is no slight one, and taken by itself, it would have sufficed to deter me from this dignity. As it is, there is another motive no less than the former. What is it? A priest ought to be sober minded, and penetrating in discernment, and possess a thousand eyes looking in every direction, for he lives not for himself alone but for a great multitude. But I am sluggish and slack, and scarcely able to bring about my own salvation, as even you should admit, who, out of love for me, are eager to conceal my faults.

Do not speak to me now of fasting and vigils or sleeping on the ground and other hard bodily discipline. You know how defective I am in these matters. But even if I had carefully practiced them, they could not, with my present sluggishness have been of any service to me with a view to this post of authority. Such things might be of great service to a man shut up in a cell and concerned only about his own soul. But when a man is divided among so great a multitude, and enters separately into the private cares of those who are under his direction, what appreciable help can be given to their improvement unless he possesses a robust and vigorous character?

Do not be surprised if, in addition to such endurance, I seek another test of fortitude in the soul. To be indifferent to food and drink and a soft bed is not a hard task to many, especially to those who have been brought up in this way from early youth, and to many others as well. For bodily discipline and custom softens the severity of these laborious practices. However, there are not many, only a few here and there, who can bear insult, and abuse, and coarse language and gibes from inferiors, spoken wantonly or deliberately, and rebukes made at random, both by rulers and the ruled. You can see men who are valiant in ascetic practices become so completely upset by these things as to become more furious than the most savage beasts. We should especially exclude such men from the precincts of the priesthood. No harm would be done to the common interests of the Church if a prelate did not loathe food, or go barefoot, but a furious temper causes great disasters both to him who possesses it, and to his neighbors.

There is no divine threat against those who fail to do the things referred to, but those who are angry without a cause are threatened with hell and hell fire.³ As, then, the lover of vainglory adds fresh fuel to the fire when he assumes direction of a whole multitude like some wild beast Goaded On all sides by countless tormentors. He would never be able to live in peace, and would cause incalculable evil to those people committed to his charge.

Nothing clouds the purity of the mind and the perspicuity of the mental vision as much as undisciplined wrath that fluctuates violently. Scripture says, "This destroys even the prudent."⁴ For the soul’s eye is darkened as in a nocturnal battle and cannot distinguish friend from foe, nor the honorable from the unworthy. It handles them all in turn the same way, even if some harm must be suffered, readily enduring everything in order to satisfy the pleasure of the soul. For a fire of wrath is a kind of pleasure and tyrannizes over the soul more harshly than pleasure, completely upsetting it’s healthy condition. It easily impels men to arrogance, to unseasonable enmities and unreasonable hatred, and it continually makes them ready to commit wanton and vain offences, and forces them to say and do many other things of that kind. The soul is swept along with the rush of passion, and has no base on which to fasten its strength and resist so strong an impulse.

Basil: I will not endure this irony of yours any longer. Who knows better than I how far removed you are from this infirmity?

John: Why then, my good friend, do you want to drag me near the pyre and provoke the sleeping beast? Do you not know that I have achieved this condition, not by any innate virtue, but by my love of retirement? When one who is so constituted remains contented by himself, or only associates with one or two friends, he is able to escape the fire which arises from his passion. However, if he has plunged into the abyss of all these cares, he drags not only himself, but also many others with him to the brink of destruction, and renders them more indifferent to all consideration for gentleness. For the mass of people under government are generally inclined to regard the character of their rulers as a model type, and to assimilate themselves to it. How then could any one put a stop to their outbursts, if he is himself swelling with rage? Who amongst the multitude would naturally desire to learn self-control when he sees that his ruler is hot-tempered?

The priest’s shortcomings simply cannot be concealed. On the contrary, even the most trivial ones soon become known. The weakest athlete can conceal his weakness as long as he remains at home and contends with no one; but when he strips for the contest, he is easily detected. For some who live this private and inactive life, their isolation serves as a veil to hide their defects; but when they are brought into public life, they are compelled to divest themselves of this mantle of seclusion, and to lay bare their souls to all through their visible movements. As, then, their right deeds profit many by challenging them to equal zeal, so their shortcomings make men more indifferent to the practice of virtue, and encourage them to indolence for the things that matter. Therefore, his soul ought to gleam with beauty on every side so that it may be able to gladden and to enlighten the souls of those who behold it.

The faults of ordinary men, being committed as it were in the dark, ruin only those who commit them. But the errors of a man in a conspicuous position, and known to many, inflict a common injury upon all, rendering those who have fallen more supine in their efforts for good, and driving to desperation those who wish to improve. Apart from this, the faults of insignificant men, even if made public, harm no one seriously. But they who occupy the highest seat of honor are visible to all, and if they err in the smallest matters, these trifles seem great to others, since everyone measures the sin, not by the magnitude of the offence, but by the rank of the offender.

The priest must be protected on all sides by steel armor, by intense earnestness, and perpetual watchfulness concerning his manner of life, lest someone discovering an exposed and neglected spot should inflict a deadly wound. For all who surround him are ready to smite and overthrow him, not only his enemies and foes, but many of those who pretend to love him.

Therefore, the souls of men elected to the priesthood ought to be endued with power as hardy as God’s grace once bestowed on the bodies of those saints cast in the Babylonian furnace.5 Brush-wood and pitch and tow are not the fuel of this fire, but something far more dreadful. It is no material fire to which they are subjected, but the all-devouring flame of envy encompasses them, rising up on every side and assailing them, rising up all round, and assailing them and searching their life more thoroughly than the fire did the bodies of those young men. When it finds a slight trace of stubble, it speedily lays hold of it and entirely consumes this unsound part, while all the rest of the fabric, even if it is brighter than the sunbeams, is scorched and blackened by the smoke.

For as long as the life of the priest is well regulated in every particular point, their intrigues cannot hurt him. But if he happens to overlook some trifle, as is natural in a human being traversing the treacherous ocean of this life, none of his other good deeds are of any avail in enabling him to escape the words of his accusers. That small offence casts a shadow over all the rest of his life. Everyone is ready to pass judgment on the priest, not as one clothed in flesh, not as one who possesses a human nature, but as an angel exempt from the frailty of others.

All men fear and flatter a tyrant as long as his power lasts because they cannot depose him, but when they see his power decline, those who were his friends a short time ago abandon their hypocritical respect, and suddenly become his enemies and antagonists. Having discovered all his weaknesses, they set upon him, and depose him from power. So it is with priests. Those who honored him and courted him when he was in power, eagerly prepare to dispose him as soon as they have found some little handle, not only as a tyrant, but something far more dreadful than that. As the tyrant fears his bodyguards, also does the priest dread most of his neighbors and fellow-ministers. For no others covet his dignity so much or know his affairs as well as these men. Being close to him, they learn before others of any faults that may occur. If they slander him, they easily command belief, and by magnifying trifles, they take their victim captive. For the apostolic saying is reversed: "And if one member suffereth, all the members rejoice; and if one member is honored, all the members suffer,"⁶ unless, by his great discretion, a man should be able to survive it all.

Are you, then, sending me forth into so great a warfare? Did you think that my soul was equal to such a complex and intricate battle? Where did you get the information, and from whom? And if God revealed this to you, show me the oracle and I will obey. But if you cannot do so, and are making a judgment from human opinion only, then deceive yourself no longer. For in what concerns my own affairs, it is fairer to trust me over others since "no man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of the man which is in him."⁷

With these arguments, I think I must have now convinced you, if not before, that I should have made both my electors and myself ridiculous by having accepted this office, and should have, with great loss, returned again to this condition of life in which I am now. For it is no only malice, but something far worse — the lust after this office — that is wont to arm many against the one who possesses it. Just as avaricious sons begrudge their fathers a long life, so when some of these men see the priestly office held by anyone for a prolonged period, they hasten to depose him as it would be wicked to murder him. Being desirous to take his place, everyone expects that the office will fall to him.

1. 1Tim. 3.1. 2. Matt. 5.11-12. 3. Cf. Matt. 5.22. 4. Prov. 15.1 (LXX).

Would you like me to show you yet another phase of this strife which is full of innumerable dangers? Come, then, and take a peep at the public festivals when it is generally the custom for elections to be made to ecclesiastical dignities. You will then see the priest assailed with accusations as numerous as the people whom he rules. For all who are qualified to bestow the honor are then split into many parties, and one can never find the council of elders of one mind with each other, nor with the one who has received the Episcopal office. Each man stands alone, one preferring this man and another that. The reason is that they do not all concentrate on one thing — spiritual worth — which ought to be the only object kept in view. There are other qualifications which influence appointment to this office. For instance, one man says, "Let this man be chosen because he belongs to a distinguished family"; another says, "Because he possesses a large fortune and would not need supporting out of the Church’s revenues"; another, "Because he is a convert from the other side." One man is anxious to give preference to a friend, another to a relative, a third to a flatterer, but no one will look for the best-qualified man or make a test of his character.

I myself am so far from thinking these things trustworthy criteria of a man’s fitness for the priesthood. Even if anyone manifested great piety, which is no small help in the discharge of that office, I should not venture to approve him on that account alone, unless he combined considerable intelligence with his piety. For I know many men who have exercised perpetual restraint upon themselves, and exhausted themselves with fasting, and who, as long as they were allowed to live alone and attend to their own needs, were acceptable to God, and every day made great progress in this kind of learning. Yet, when they entered public life, and were compelled to correct the ignorance of the multitudes, some of them proved at the outset that they were incompetent for so great a task, and others, when forced to persevere in it, abandoned their former strict standards, and inflicted great injury upon themselves and were not of the least use to others.

Again, if a man has spent all his life in the lower order of the ministry and has reached extreme old age, I would not, merely out of reverence for his years, promote him to the higher dignity. What if, arriving at that time of life, he should still remain unfit for the office? I do not say this out of disrespect for gray hairs, nor am I laying down a rule that we should absolutely exclude from this responsibility those who come from the monastic brotherhood. It has turned out that many who have issued from that body have shed luster upon this office. The point which I am anxious to prove is, that if neither piety of itself nor advanced age alone are sufficient to prove a man worthy of the priesthood, the reasons formerly alleged are hardly likely to do so.

There are men who bring forward other pretexts which are stranger still. Some men are enlisted in the ranks of the clergy to prevent them from siding with the enemy, and others on account of their evil disposition, in order to stop them from causing great mischief if they are overlooked. Could anything be more contrary to right rule than this — that corrupt men, laden with iniquity, should be courted for the very things for which they ought to be punished, and promoted to the priestly dignity for the very things for which they ought to be forbidden from crossing the threshold of the Church?

Tell me, then, do we need to look any further for the cause of God’s wrath when we expose such sacred and awe-inspiring things to be defiled by wicked or worthless men? When some men are entrusted with the administration of things which are not at all suitable to them, and others, with the administration of things quite beyond their powers, they make the condition of the Church like that of Euripus.

Formerly, I used to deride secular rulers because they distributed honors not on grounds of moral excellence, but on wealth, and seniority, and worldly distinction. When I heard that this kind of folly had forced its way into our affairs also, I no longer regarded their conduct as so atrocious. For why should we be surprised that worldly men, who love the praise of the multitude, and do everything for the sake of gain, should commit these sins, when those who claim to be free from all these influences are no better? Although they are in a contest for heavenly rewards, they act as if the question submitted for decision was one which concerns acres of land, or something else of the kind. They simply take commonplace men, and put them in charge of those things for which the only-begotten Son of God did not disdain to empty Himself of His glory, and to become man, and to take the form of a servant, and to be spat upon, and buffeted, and to die a death of reproach in the flesh.

Nor do they stop even here, but they add to these offences others still more monstrous. Not only to they elect unworthy men, but they actually expel those who are well qualified. As if it were necessary to undermine the safety of the Church in both ways, or as if the former provocation were not enough to kindle the wrath of God, they have contrived another reason no less serious. For I consider it as bad to keep out the useful as to bring in the useless. This in fact takes place so that the flock of Christ is unable to find consolation in any direction or draw its breath freely. Does this not deserve to be punished by a hail of thunderbolts and hell-fire hotter than that with which we are threatened? Yet these monstrous evils are borne patiently by Him who does not desire the death of a sinner, but rather that he should be converted and live. How can we marvel at His loving kindness for man, or be amazed at His mercy? Christians destroy the property of Christ more than enemies and adversaries, yet the good Lord still deals gently with them and calls them to repentance.

Glory be to Thee, O Lord! Glory to Thee! How vast is the depth of Thy loving kindness! How great the riches of Thy forbearance! Men, who through Thy name have risen from insignificance and obscurity to positions of honor and distinction, use the honor they enjoy against Him who bestowed it, and commit deeds of outrageous audacity. They insult holy things, rejecting and expelling men of zeal, in order that the wicked may have perfect freedom and full security to ruin everything at their pleasure.

If you want to know the causes of this dreadful evil, you will find that they are similar to those I mentioned before. They have one root and so to speak one mother — envy, and this is manifested in different forms. For we are told that one is to be struck out of the list of candidates because he is young; another, because he does not know how to flatter; a third, because he has offended so-and-so; a fourth, in case so-and-so should be hurt at seeing his nominee rejected and another man appointed; a fifth, because he is kind and gentle; a sixth, because sinners fear him; a seventh, for some other similar reason. They are at no loss to find as many pretexts as they want, and can even make a man’s wealth an objection if they have no other. Indeed, they are capable of discovering, gently and gradually, many other reasons why a man should not receive this honor.

But I should like to ask you now what the prelate ought to do when he has to contend with so many winds? How can he stand firm against such billows? How can he repel all these assaults? If he manages the business upon upright principles, all men become enemies and foes to him and to those whom he has chosen. They will provoke, with a view of contention, daily strife, and heap scorn upon the candidates until they either strike them off the list, or introduce their own men. It is like a captain having pirates sailing with him on board ship, and continually plotting hour by hour against him and the sailors and crew. If, on the other hand, he favors such men over his salvation by accepting unworthy candidates, he will incur God’s enmity in place of theirs. And what could be worse than that? His relations with them will be more difficult than before since they will all conspire together, and thereby become more powerful than before. When fierce winds coming from opposite directions clash with one another, the sea, which before was calm, suddenly rages and towers and destroys those who sail on it; so the calm sea of the Church is filled with surf and wreckage when evil men are accepted.

Consider, then, what qualities a man needs if he is to withstand such a tempest, and deal successfully with these obstacles to the common good. He ought to be dignified yet modest, impressive yet kind, masterful yet approachable, impartial yet courteous, humble but not servile, strong yet gentle, in order that he may successfully contend all these difficulties and promote with authority a suitable man for the office even though everyone should oppose him. He must keep one aim only in view, the building up of the Church. He must do nothing out of hostility or favor.

Well, then, do you think I was unreasonable in declining the ministry of this office? But I have not yet gone through all my reasons with you for I still have some others to say. So do not lose patience in listening to a friendly and sincere man who wishes to clear himself of your accusations. For what I say is not only of service to you in my defense, but will probably afford considerable help for the due administration of the office. For anyone who is about to enter upon this walk of life needs to investigate thoroughly beforehand all matters before he sets undertakes this ministry. And why? Because one who knows all difficulties beforehand will have the advantage of not being taken by surprise when they crop up.

Would you like me then to approach the question of the superintendence of widows, or of the care of virgins, or of the difficulty of the judicial function? For in each of these cases, there is a different kind of anxiety and the fear is greater than the anxiety.

In the first place, even though this ministry appears to be easier than the rest, the charge of widows seems to cause anxiety to those who take care of them so far as the expenditure of money is concerned. But this is not so. On the contrary, here also close scrutiny is needed when they are enrolled. Entering their names carelessly has led to untold troubles. For they have ruined households, and severed marriages, and have often been detected stealing and pilfering and committing other disgraceful offences like these. To support women like that from the Church’s funds provokes punishment from God, and extreme condemnation from men, and discourages those who want to do good. For who could ever choose to spend the money which he was commanded to give to Christ upon those who defame the name of Christ? For these reasons a long and precise scrutiny ought to be made to prevent those whom I have described, as well as those who can provide for themselves, from plundering the table of those who cannot.

After this scrutiny, there follows another bit anxiety — to see that the means for their support should pour in abundantly, like water from a spring, and never fail. For compulsory poverty is an insatiable kind of evil, querulous and unthankful. Great discretion and great zeal is required to take away all occasions for complaint and stop their tongues from wagging. When people see anyone superior to avarice, they at once point him out as suitable for this stewardship. But I do not think that honesty by itself is sufficient. Although it ought to be possessed prior to all other qualities, since without this a man will be a destroyer rather than a protector, a wolf instead of a shepherd. But you must look for the possession of another quality as well, and that is forbearance, the source of all human blessings, which guides the soul into a serene heaven.

For widows are a class who, both on account of their poverty, their age and natural disposition, indulge in unlimited freedom of speech — to call it no worse! They make unseasonable clamor and idle complaints and lamentations about matters for which they ought to be grateful, and bring accusations concerning things which they ought contentedly to accept. Now the superintendent should endure all these things in a generous spirit, and not be provoked either by their inopportune annoyance or their unreasonable complaints. For persons of this kind deserve to be pitied, not insulted for their misfortunes. It would be a mark of utter cruelty to take advantage of their misfortunes, and add to the pain of poverty the pain of insult.

That is why a very wise man, observing the avarice and pride of human nature, realized the nature of poverty and its terrible power to depress even the noblest character, and often teaches it to lose all shame on such matters. To prevent anyone being irritated when accused or provoked by continual importunity to become an enemy when he ought to bring aid, he instructs him to be gentle and accessible to the needy saying: "Incline thine ear to a poor man without grieving and answer him with peaceable words in meekness."¹ In the case of one who provokes a man in distress — for what can you say to someone who is overcome — he addresses the man who is able to bear the other’s infirmity, urging him, before he bestows his gift, to correct the suppliant by the gentleness of his countenance and the mildness of his words. If anyone, without having taken the property of these widows, loads them with innumerable reproaches and insults them and is exasperated against them, he not only fails through his gift to alleviate the despondency of poverty, but aggravates the distress by his abuse. Even if they are compelled by sheer hunger to act shamelessly, they are still hurt by this compulsion. When they are forced to beg because of the dread of famine, they are constrained to put off shame and are insulted because of their brazenness, and the power of despondency, which attacks them, casts a deep gloom over their soul.

Whoever is in charge of these persons should be so long-suffering so that far from increasing their despondency by his fits of anger, he actually removes the greater part of it by his sympathy. For just as a rich man who has been insulted forgets the benefits of his wealth on account of the blow of the insult, so on the other hand, the man who has been addressed with kindly words, and whose gift has been accompanied with encouragement, exults and rejoices all the more. The gift becomes doubled in value through the manner in which it was offered. I say this, not of myself, but on the