On the Priesthood 3 part 2/3

for you know how far we fall short even of these.

But even if these things had been achieved by us with exactness, not even so, with our present sluggishness, could they have availed us anything for that oversight.

For to a man shut up in some little cell and caring only for his own affairs, these things would afford much benefit;

but for one parceled out among so great a multitude, possessing private cares for each of the ruled, what trustworthy gain could it contribute toward their advancement, unless he happen to have a vigorous and most robust soul? And do not be amazed if, alongside so much endurance, I seek another test—that of the courage in the soul.

For to despise foods and drinks and a soft bed we see to be no labor at all for many, especially for those of a more rustic disposition and reared so from earliest age, and for many others too, since both their bodily constitution and their habit ease the harshness in those toils;

but to bear insult and abuse and burdensome words, and the mockeries of inferiors—both those uttered idly and those with cause—and the reproaches made rashly and in vain by both rulers and ruled, is the part not of many, but of one or two perhaps;

and one might see those who are strong in those former things so dizzied at these as to grow more savage than the fiercest beasts.

we shall most of all bar such men from the precincts of the priesthood;

for that the presider neither chokes himself off from food nor goes unshod would in no way harm the common body of the Church, but fierce wrath works great calamities both upon the one who has it and upon those near him;

and against those who do not do those things no threat is laid up from God, but against those who simply give way to anger, Gehenna and the fire of Gehenna have been threatened.

Therefore, just as one who loves empty glory, when he lays hold of the rule over the many, supplies greater fuel to the fire, so too the one who, even by himself and in dealings with a few, cannot master his anger, but is easily carried away, when he is entrusted with the leadership of a whole multitude, like some beast goaded on every side and by countless points, can never himself live in peace and inflicts countless evils upon those entrusted to him.

For nothing so muddies the purity of the mind and the clearness of the understanding as disordered anger, borne along with great violence.

'For this,' it says, 'destroys even the prudent.' For just as in some night battle, the eye of the soul, darkened, cannot distinguish friends from foes, nor the dishonorable from the honorable, but treats all in turn after one fashion, and, even if it must incur some harm, easily endures everything in order to fulfill the soul's pleasure.

For the kindling of anger is a kind of pleasure, and it tyrannizes the soul more grievously than pleasure, throwing its whole sound condition into utter confusion, up and down.

For it readily lifts one to arrogance, and prepares one for untimely enmities and irrational hatred, and to give offense lightly and rashly and continually, and forces one to say and do many other such things, while the soul is dragged along by the great rush of the passion and has nowhere to plant its own strength so as to stand firm against so great an onset.

But I will no longer endure you playing the ironist further;

for who does not know, he says, how far you are from this disease? JOHN: 'What then,' I said, 'O blessed one, do you wish to lead me near the pyre and to provoke the beast that is at rest? Or are you unaware that we achieved this not by our own virtue, but by loving stillness? And that one so disposed, finding it a welcome thing while remaining by himself and dealing with only one or two friends, is able to escape the conflagration from there—much less when he has fallen into the abyss of so many cares? For then he drags down with himself not only himself, but also many others, to the precipice of destruction, and renders them more sluggish about the practice of gentleness;

for the multitude of the ruled is by nature wont, for the most part, to look upon the manners of the rulers as upon some archetypal image, and to conform themselves to those.

How, then, could anyone allay their inflammations while himself swollen with them? And who would quickly desire to become moderate among the many, while seeing the ruler given to anger? For the faults of priests cannot be hidden, but even the smallest quickly become manifest.

For an athlete too, so long as he stays at home and grapples with no one, can pass unnoticed, even if he happens to be very weak, but once he strips for the contests, he is easily exposed;

and among men, those who live this private and untroubled life have solitude as a screen for their own sins, but when brought into public view, they are compelled to strip off their quietude like a garment and to display their bare souls to all through their outward movements.

Therefore, just as their good deeds have profited many, calling them to an equal zeal, so too their faults have rendered men more careless about the working of virtue, and prepared them to be slack toward the labors on behalf of what is excellent;

wherefore the beauty of his soul must shine forth on every side, that it may be able both to gladden and to enlighten the souls of those who behold.

For the sins of ordinary men, as though done in some darkness, destroy

those who commit them alone;

but the fault of a man conspicuous and known to many brings common harm to all, both rendering those who have collapsed more supine toward the sweat for good things, and provoking to arrogance those who wish to give heed to themselves.

And apart from these things, the slips of the lowly, even if they come into the open, strike no one a noteworthy blow;

but those who sit at the summit of this honor are, first, conspicuous to all; and then, even if they stumble in the smallest things, the small appears great to others;

for all measure the sin not by the magnitude of what was done, but by the dignity of the one who erred.

And the priest must be fenced about, as with certain adamantine weapons, by intense earnestness and unremitting vigilance over his life, scanning on every side lest someone, finding a bare and neglected spot, strike a deadly blow;

for all stand around ready to wound and to cast down—not only enemies and foes, but also many of those who feign friendship.

Such souls, then, must be chosen as the grace of God showed forth the bodies of those holy ones to be, once in the Babylonian furnace;

for not vine-twigs and pitch and tow are the fuel of this fire, but something far more grievous than these, since neither is that perceptible fire here in question, but the all-devouring flame of envy encircles him, rising on every side and going over and searching out his life more exactly than the fire then searched the bodies of those children.

Whenever, then, it finds even a small trace of stubble, it quickly fastens upon it, and consumes that rotten part, while all the rest of the building—even though it happen to be brighter than the sun's rays—it scorches and darkens entirely with that smoke.

For so long as the priest's life is well-fitted on every side, it remains impregnable to plots;

but if he happen to overlook some small thing, as is likely for one who is a man and crossing the much-wandering sea of this life, none of his other good deeds avails him to escape the mouths of accusers, but that small slip overshadows all the rest, and all wish to judge the priest not as one clothed with flesh nor as one allotted a human nature, but as an angel freed from the rest of weakness.

And just as with a tyrant: so long as he holds power, all shudder at him and flatter him, because they cannot bring him down, but when they see that power waning, those who were friends a little before, casting off their hypocritical honor, suddenly become enemies and foes, and, having learned all his rotten points, set upon him to depose him from the rule—so too with priests: those who a little before, while he held power, honored and courted him, when they find some small handle, prepare themselves vehemently, intending to cast him down not merely as a tyrant, but in a manner harsher even than that.

And just as the tyrant fears his bodyguards, so this man too trembles most of all at those near him and ministering alongside him;

for none others so desire his office, nor know his affairs so well as these;

for being close at hand, if anything of the sort should happen, they perceive it before the others, and could easily both be believed when they slander, and, by making small things great, catch the one they falsely accuse.

For that apostolic saying has been reversed:

'And whether one member suffers, all the members rejoice;

or whether one member is glorified, all the members suffer'—except where someone, with much piety, is able to stand firm against all.

Into so great a war, then, do you send us out? And did you think our soul would suffice for a battle so varied and manifold? Where and from whom did you learn this? For if God has revealed it, show me the oracle, and I am persuaded;

but if you have none, and bring your verdict from human opinion, then cease at last from being deceived;

it is just that we should be persuaded concerning our own affairs by ourselves rather than by others, since no one knows the things of a man except the spirit of the man which is in him.

For that we should have made both ourselves and those who chose us a laughingstock, had we accepted this office, and with much loss should have returned to this state of life in which we now are, even if not before, yet now at least I think I have persuaded you by these words.

For not envy alone, but the desire for this office, far more vehement than envy, is wont to arm the many against the one who holds it.

And just as money-loving children are burdened by their fathers' old age, so too some of these men, when they see the priesthood prolonged over a long time, since it is unholy to do away with him, are eager to depose him from the office, all desiring to take his place and each expecting the rule to fall to himself.

That the desire of love of rule must be cast out of the soul of the priest. Do you wish me to show you yet another kind of this conflict, full of countless dangers? Come, then, and peep into the public festivals, at which it is the custom most of all to make the elections of ecclesiastical offices, and you will see the priest pelted with as many accusations as there are people in the multitude of the ruled.

For all who have authority to confer the honor are then split into many factions, and one would see the council of the elders in agreement neither with one another nor with the very one who has been allotted the bishopric, but each standing by himself, one choosing this man, another that;

and the cause is that they do not all look to the one thing to which alone they ought to look—the virtue of the soul—but there are also other pretexts that procure this honor;

for instance, 'Let this man be approved,' says one, 'because he is of illustrious birth'; another, 'because he is clothed with great wealth and would not need to be supported from the revenues of the Church'; another, 'because he has come over from the enemy.'

And one is eager to prefer above the others the man who is well-disposed toward himself, another the one related to him by family, another the one who flatters him more;

but no one is willing to look to the fit man, nor to make any test of his soul.

And I am so far from holding these grounds to be trustworthy for the scrutiny of priests, that not even if someone should display great piety—that piety which contributes no small thing toward the office for us—would I dare straightway to approve him on this ground, unless along with the piety he chanced to have also much understanding.

For I know many who, having shut themselves up the whole time and worn themselves away with fasting, so long as it was permitted them to be by themselves and to care for their own affairs, were well approved before God and added day by day no small portion to that philosophy;

but when they came into the multitude and were compelled to set right the ignorance of the many, some were not even sufficient for so great a task from the very start, while others, forced to persevere, casting off their former exactness, both did themselves the greatest harm and profited others nothing.

But neither, if someone has spent his whole time abiding in the lowest rank of the ministry and has driven on to extreme old age, shall we, merely out of respect for his age, advance him to the higher office.

For what if, even after that age, he remains unfit? And I have said these things now not out of any wish to dishonor gray hair, nor to lay down a law that those who come from the ranks of the monks must by all means be barred from such oversight—for it has happened that many also, coming from that flock, have shone brilliantly in this office—but striving to show this: that if neither piety by itself, nor long old age, would be sufficient to show its possessor worthy of the priesthood, then much less would the aforesaid pretexts accomplish this.

But some add other grounds yet more absurd;

they enroll themselves in the order of the clergy by aligning themselves with the adverse party, while others do so out of wickedness, and lest, being passed over, they should work great evils.

Could anything be more lawless than this—when wicked men, full of countless evils, are courted for the very things for which they ought to be punished, and on account of which they ought not even to cross the threshold of the church, are for these very things promoted to the priestly dignity? Shall we then still inquire, tell me, into the cause of God's wrath, when we hand over things so holy and most awesome to be ruined by men, some wicked, others worth nothing? For when some are entrusted with the oversight of things that nowise belong to them, and others with that of things far greater than their own power, they make the Church to differ in nothing from the Euripus.

And I formerly used to laugh at secular rulers, because they make their distributions of honors not according to the virtue in men's souls, but according to wealth and number of years and human patronage;

but when I heard that this same irrationality had also burst its way into our own affairs, I no longer regarded the matter as equally dreadful.

For what wonder is it that worldly men, lovers of glory from the many and doing all things for the sake of money, should sin in such ways, when those who profess to have been freed from all these things are in no way better disposed than they, but, though they have their contest over heavenly things, deliberate over them as over acres of land or some other such matter, and, simply taking ordinary, common men, set them over affairs so great—affairs for the sake of which the only-begotten Son of God did not refuse to empty His own glory, to become man, to take the form of a servant, to be spat upon, to be struck, and to die through the flesh the death of reproach? And they do not stop even at these things only, but add others yet more absurd;

for not only do they approve the unworthy, but they also cast out the suitable.

For as though it were necessary to ruin the security of the Church from both sides, or as though the former pretext were not enough to kindle God's wrath, so they joined to it the second, which is no less grievous;

for I think it is equally dreadful both to bar the useful and to thrust in the useless;

and this happens so that the flock of Christ may be able to find consolation and to take breath from nowhere.

Are not these things worthy of countless thunderbolts? Are they not worthy of a Gehenna more fierce, not only of this one that has been threatened against us? Yet nevertheless He bears with and endures so great evils, He who does not desire the death of the sinner, but that he should turn and live.

How could anyone marvel enough at His loving-kindness? How could one be astounded enough at His mercy? Those of Christ corrupt the things of Christ worse than enemies and foes, yet the good One still deals kindly and calls to repentance.

Glory to You, O Lord, glory to You.

What an abyss of loving-kindness is with You! What riches of forbearance! Those who, on account of Your name, from base and dishonored have become honored and conspicuous, use the honor against Him who honored them, and dare the things not to be dared, and outrage the holy things, thrusting away and casting out the diligent, so that in great calm and with utmost security the wicked may overturn everything they wish.

And if you wish to learn the causes of this evil too, you will find them similar to the former ones;

for they have one root and, as one might say, one mother—envy;

but they themselves are not of one form, but differ.

For one says, 'Let this man be cast out because he is young'; another, 'because he does not know how to flatter'; another, 'because he gave offense to so-and-so';

and one, so that so-and-so may not be grieved at seeing the man he himself nominated rejected while this other is approved; another, because he is kind and fair-minded; another, because he is fearsome to sinners; another, for some other such cause;

for they are not at a loss for as many pretexts as they wish.

When they have nothing else, they can fault even what really exists, alleging that one ought not to be brought to this honor all at once, but gently and little by little;

and they could find as many other causes as they please.

But I would gladly ask you here: what, then, must the bishop do, contending against so many winds? How shall he stand against so many waves? How shall he repel all these assaults? For if he handles the matter with right reason, all become enemies and foes both to him and to those chosen, and do everything to contend against him, casting in dissensions day by day and heaping countless mockeries upon those chosen, until either they expel these or bring in their own men; and it becomes much like what would happen if a helmsman should have pirates sailing along inside the very ship that is under sail, continually and at every hour plotting against him and the sailors and the passengers.

But if he prefers gratifying them above his own salvation, receiving those whom he ought not, he will have God for an enemy instead of them—and what could be harsher than that? And his relations with those people will be more difficult for him than before, since they all work together with one another and become the stronger for it;

for just as when fierce winds fall upon one another from opposite directions, the sea that was till then at rest suddenly rages and rises into peaks and destroys those sailing upon it, so too the calm of the Church, having received corrupting men, is filled with storm and many shipwrecks.

Consider, then, what manner of man he must be who is going to hold out against so great a storm and to manage well so many hindrances to the common good.

For he must be both dignified and free from arrogance, both awe-inspiring and kindly, both authoritative and sociable, both impartial and obliging, both humble and not servile, both vehement and gentle, in order that he may be able with ease to contend against all these things, and to bring forward the fit man with full authority, even if all oppose, and to refuse with the same authority the unfit one, even if all are agreed, but to look to one thing only, the building up of the Church, and to do nothing for the sake of enmity or favor.

Do I seem to you to have declined the ministry of this matter with good reason? And yet I have not even gone through everything with you;

but do not grow weary of bearing with a friend, a genuine one, who wishes to persuade you concerning the things for which you bring charges;

for these things are useful to you not only for the defense on our behalf, but perhaps will also contribute no small gain toward the very administration of the matter.

For it is necessary that the one who is going to enter upon this way of life should first search out everything well, and so take up the ministry.

Why so? Because, if for nothing else, at least the not being taken by surprise—when these things befall—will be the advantage of him who knows everything clearly.

Concerning widows. Do you wish, then, that we go first to the care of widows, or to the guardianship of virgins, or to the difficulty of the judicial function? For in each of these the concern is different, and the fear greater than the concern.

And first, that we may make our beginning from what seems to be of less consequence than the rest, the care of widows seems to those who attend to them to bring concern only as far as the expenditure of money;

but it is not so; rather, here too much examination is needed, when one must enroll them, since to register them simply and at random has wrought countless terrible things.

For they have ruined households and torn apart marriages, and have often been caught in unseemly conduct—in thefts and petty trading and other such things.

And to have such women fed from the Church's funds brings both punishment from God and the utmost condemnation from men, and renders those who wish to do good more reluctant.

For who would ever choose to spend on those who slander the name of Christ the money which was offered to Christ

to give? On account of this, much and exact examination must be made, so that not only the aforesaid women, but not even those able to support themselves, may injure the table of the destitute.

And after this examination, another no small concern follows: that the means of their sustenance may flow to them all at once, as from springs, and never run dry;

for involuntary poverty is somehow an insatiable evil, given to complaint and ingratitude.

And there is need of much understanding and much zeal, so as to stop their mouths, removing every pretext for accusation.

Now the many, whenever they see someone superior to money, straightway declare him fit for this stewardship;

but I do not think that this magnanimity alone ever suffices for him; rather, he must indeed have it before all else—for without it he would be a destroyer rather than a protector, a wolf instead of a shepherd—but along with it he must seek another quality too, if he happens to possess it.

And this is the cause of all good things to men—forbearance—which, as into some calm harbor, moors and brings the soul safely in.

For the class of widows, both because of their poverty and because of their age and because of their nature, employs an immoderate kind of frankness—so it is better to put it—and they cry out unseasonably and find fault in vain and lament over the very things for which they ought to be thankful, and accuse over the very things for which they ought to be grateful.

And the presider must bear all things nobly, and be provoked neither at the unseasonable annoyances nor at the irrational complaints.

For it is just that this class should be pitied for their misfortunes, not insulted;

since to trample upon their misfortunes and to add to the pain caused by poverty the pain that comes from insult would be the extreme of cruelty.

Therefore a certain most wise man, having looked to both the avarice and the haughtiness of human nature, and having well learned that the nature of poverty is a terrible thing—able to bring down even the noblest soul and often to persuade it to be shameless about the same things—in order that no one, being asked by them, may be angered, nor that the one who ought to help, provoked by the constancy of their entreaty, may become an enemy, prepares him to be gentle and easy of access to the one in need, saying:

'Incline your ear to the poor man without grief, and answer him peaceably in gentleness.' And leaving aside the one who provokes—for what could one say to him who lies prostrate?—he addresses the one able to bear that man's weakness, exhorting him to set the poor man upright by the kindliness of his look and the gentleness of his words, even before the gift.

But if anyone does not take their things, yet heaps countless reproaches upon them and insults and is provoked against them, he not only fails to lighten the despondency that comes from poverty by his giving, but by his revilings makes the trouble even greater.

For even if they are forced to be exceedingly shameless on account of the necessity of the belly, yet nonetheless they grieve at this compulsion;

whenever, then, through fear of hunger they are compelled to beg, and through begging to be shameless, and through being shameless to be again insulted, a manifold power of despondency, bearing much gloom, sweeps down upon their soul.

And the one who cares for these women must be so long-suffering as not only not to increase their despondency by his vexations, but also to lull most of the existing despondency to rest through encouragement;

for just as that man who was insulted does not perceive the benefit from the money because of the blow that comes from the insult, so this man who has heard a kindly word and received the gift with encouragement rejoices the more and is glad, and the gift becomes double to him by reason of the manner.

And these things I utter not from myself, but from him who gave the former counsels;

for 'My child,' he says, 'do not mix blame with your good deeds, nor any grief of words with all your giving.'

'Does not the dew give relief from the scorching heat?' So

'Behold, a word is better than a good gift, and both are with the gracious man.' And the protector of these women must be not only fair and forbearing, but no less skilled in management; for if this is lacking, the funds of the poor again fall into the same loss.

For already someone entrusted with this ministry, having gathered much gold, did not himself devour it, but neither did he spend it on the needy except for a little, but buried the greater part and kept it, until a difficult time came upon him and delivered it into the hands of the enemy.

Therefore there is need of much forethought, that the resources of the Church may neither abound nor fall short, but that all that is gathered may be quickly scattered to the needy, while the treasures of the Church are stored up in the good purposes of the ruled.

And the reception of strangers and the care of the sick—how much expenditure of money do you think they need, and how much exactness and understanding in those who superintend them? For this expense must be in no way less than the one already mentioned, but often even greater; and the one who superintends must be somewhat resourceful, with reverence and prudence, so as to dispose those who have possessions to give of their own both generously and without grief, lest, in providing for the relief of the sick, he wound the souls of those who give.

And here one must display far more eagerness and zeal;

for the sick are somehow a hard-to-please and peevish thing.

And unless much exactness and care be brought to bear on every side, even that small thing overlooked suffices to work great evils upon the sick man.