Pastoral Rule, Dialogues & Letters 60

What I now relate I learned from the account of a certain fellow bishop of mine, who dwelt in the monastic habit for many years in the city of Ancona, and there led a life religious in no ordinary degree; to which also certain of our own, of now more advanced age, who are from those same parts, bear witness. For near that city is situated the church of the blessed martyr Stephen, in which a man of venerable life, Constantius by name, served in the office of sacristan; the fame of whose sanctity had spread far and wide to the notice of men, because this same man, utterly despising earthly things, burned with the whole striving of his mind for heavenly things alone.

But one day, when oil was lacking in that same church, and the aforesaid servant of God had nothing at all from which to light the lamps, he filled all the lamps of the church with water, and, as is the custom, placed a wick in the middle of them; these he kindled with fire that was brought, and thus the water burned in the lamps as if it had been oil. Consider therefore, Peter, of what merit this man was, who, constrained by necessity, changed the nature of an element. PETER: What I hear is very wonderful; but I should like to know of what humility he could be inwardly within himself, who was of such excellence outwardly. GREGORY: You fittingly ask about the soul amid these virtues, for it is a very great thing that the marvels which are done outwardly assail the mind inwardly by their temptation.

But if you hear one thing which this venerable Constantius did, you will more quickly recognize of what humility he was. PETER: Since you have told of that so great a miracle of his deed, it remains also that you edify me concerning the humility of his mind. GREGORY: Because the fame of his sanctity had greatly grown, many from diverse provinces anxiously thirsted to see him. But one day, from a far-off place, a certain peasant came to see him. And it happened by chance at that same hour that the holy man, standing on wooden steps, was busy trimming the lamps. Now he was very small, of a slight and despised form.

And when he who had come to see him inquired which one he was, and earnestly begged that he might be shown to him, those who knew him pointed out who he was. But since men of foolish mind measure merits by the quality of the body, seeing him small and despicable, he began to disbelieve altogether that this was he. For in the peasant's mind, between what he had heard and what he saw, there had arisen as it were a certain quarrel; and he reckoned that one so small could not be, in appearance, him whom he had held to be so great by reputation. And when it had been asserted to him by many that it was he indeed, he despised him and began to mock, saying: 'I believed him a grand man, but this one has nothing of a man about him.'

When the man of God Constantius heard this, at once joyfully leaving the lamps which he was trimming, he came down hastily, and rushed into the embrace of that same peasant, and out of excessive love began to clasp him in his arms and to kiss him, and to give great thanks that he had judged such things concerning him, saying: 'You alone have had open eyes concerning me.' From which thing it is to be weighed of what humility he was within himself, who the more loved the peasant that despised him. For what sort each one lies hidden within himself, an insult offered proves. For as the proud rejoice in honors, so for the most part the humble take joy in their own being despised.

And when they see themselves as vile even in the eyes of others, they rejoice for this reason, because they understand that judgment to be confirmed which they themselves held concerning themselves within their own selves. PETER: As I recognize, this man was great outwardly in miracles, but greater inwardly in the humility of heart. GREGORY: Of that same Church of Ancona a man of venerable life, Marcellinus, was also bishop, whose step gout had contracted with excessive pain, and his household would carry him in their hands wherever it was necessary. But one day, through the fault of carelessness, that same city of Ancona was set ablaze. And when it was burning fiercely, all ran together to extinguish the fire.

But as they threw water in rivalry, the flame so grew that it now seemed to threaten the destruction of the whole city. And when the fire had invaded the places nearer to it, and had now consumed no small part of the city, and no one was able to withstand it, the bishop, carried in their hands, came, and compelled by so great a necessity of the danger, commanded his household who bore him, saying: 'Set me against the fire.' Which was done thus, and he was placed in that spot where the whole force of the flame seemed to bear down. But the fire began in a wondrous manner to be turned back upon itself, as if by the bending back of its own onrush it cried out that it could not pass the bishop.

And so it came to pass that the flame of the conflagration, checked at that boundary, cooled down upon itself, and no longer dared to touch any part of the building. Do you weigh, Peter, of what sanctity he was, that a sick man should sit, and by praying press down the flames? PETER: I both weigh it and am astounded.