For just as we do not listen against Christ to those who say that His body was stolen from the sepulcher by the disciples, so we ought not to listen against His Church to those who say that it exists only among the Africans and a very few associates of the Africans. For the Apostle says that true Christians are members of Christ. As, therefore, we do not believe that the dead flesh of Christ perished from the sepulcher by anyone's theft, so we ought not to believe that His living members perished from the world by anyone's sin. It is not, therefore, difficult—since Christ is the head and the Church the body—to see both commended together in the Gospel: both the head against the calumnies of the Jews, and the body against the accusations of the heretics. For what is read:
It behooved Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day—this is against those who say that the dead one was taken away from the sepulcher; but what follows: And that repentance and remission of sins be preached in His name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem—this is against those who say that the Church is not in the whole world; so that in one brief chapter and in a few words both the enemy of the head and the enemy of the body may be repelled, and, if one attend faithfully, be corrected. For we grieve all the more that our brothers hold these enmities, the more it is established that they hold, together with us, those same Scriptures in which these most manifest testimonies are contained.
For the Jews, who deny that Christ has risen, at least do not accept the Gospel; but these brothers of ours are bound by the authority of both Testaments, and yet they wish to accuse us concerning the Gospel that has been handed down, and are unwilling to believe it when it is recited.
But now perhaps, having undertaken the care of this conference, they have more diligently searched the Holy Scriptures, and, because in them they have found innumerable testimonies by which the Church is promised to be in all nations and in the whole world—just as we see it beginning to be rendered and presented in the Gospel and in the apostolic epistles and in the Acts of the Apostles, where the very places and cities and provinces are read through which it grew, beginning from Jerusalem, so that from there it might spread even into Africa, not by migrating but by growing—but have not found any testimony of the divine oracles where it is said that it would perish from the remaining parts of the world and remain only in Africa in the party of Donatus, and have seen how absurd it is that for that which was to perish so many divine testimonies should be recited.
But for that Church which, as they suppose, was to have been pleasing to the Lord, no testimony of it can be found. Perhaps pondering these things, in order to end the vain and ruinous enmities that are contrary to eternal salvation, they have wished all to assemble at the place of our conference—not that a new tumult may arise, but that the old discord may be ended.
For that too, by which they are wont to be gravely provoked against us—namely, that the kings of the earth, who so long beforehand were foretold as about to serve Christ the Lord, establish laws against heretics and schismatics for the sake of Catholic peace—we believe that they have at some time reflected is not to be blamed, because the ancient kings also, not only of the Hebrew nation but even foreigners, restrained all the peoples of their kingdom with the most threatening precepts, that no one should either do or even say anything against the God of Israel, that is, the true God; and the forefathers of these men sent the very case of Caecilianus, whence this dissension arose, to the emperor Constantine through the proconsul Anulinus, by accusing—which surely they seem to have done for no other reason than that the emperor Constantine might decree something by royal authority in favor of those who had won against those who had been defeated; and that whole case they were able—and perhaps did, by the necessity of the conference itself—by searching the public archives, to find had long ago been settled after the ecclesiastical judgments by which Caecilianus was absolved, that emperor also judging, to whose examination they both at first sent the whole matter and afterward brought it through.
There too they could have found the case of Felix of Aptunga, the ordainer of Caecilian, whom in their own council they had called the fountain-head of all evils, proved to be clear, when Aelianus the proconsul heard it by the command of that same emperor.
And yet, if they had considered this—and it would have been easy—and had noticed in the Holy Scriptures that the Church of Christ was foretold to be mingled with tares and chaff and bad fishes right up to the time of the harvest, of the winnowing, and of the shore, they could surely have reflected that, even if Caecilian and his fellow bishops had had a bad cause, they could in no way have prejudiced the Christian world, which God promised so long beforehand to the few who believed and has now rendered up before the eyes of many—unless perhaps a sinning man availed more against the Church than a swearing God availed for the Church, and iniquity in what it lost availed more than truth in what it promised. How foolish and impious it is to think such things they have perhaps by now perceived;
they also reflected that the Maximianists, condemned by themselves as the condemners of Primian, they had taken care to have driven even out of their basilicas by the earthly powers, and there, by their own more recent example, they learned more certainly that it is no sin if the Church requests something of this sort from such powers against its own rebels;
and inasmuch as they afterwards received back some of those they had condemned—to whom, while they condemned them, they nonetheless granted a delay, along with very many others established in the same fellowship of schism, and whom they declared to have remained unpolluted in communion with the sacrilegious offshoot of Maximian—and inasmuch as they did not dare to annul and repeat a baptism given whether by the condemned or by their associates, though given outside in schism: by all this they have surely judged sufficiently that the things they were saying against us stand condemned by their own example, and this is to be believed.
Let them now understand how unworthy, how intolerable it is that, while they sit in episcopal chairs together with these men and together even with Primian himself—both his condemners and those condemned in his cause—so that there may be peace within the party of Donatus, the Christian world should be defamed on account of Caecilian, so that the unity of Christ may not live in peace. Perhaps reflecting on all these things and moved by the fear of God, they have all wished to be present at the place of the conference, not with a view to tumult but to peace.
For as to their saying that they were all present for this reason—that their number might appear, since their adversaries had often falsely alleged them to be few—if this was ever said by our side, it could most truly be said of those regions where the number of our fellow bishops, clergy, and laity is far greater, and especially in the proconsular province; although, apart from consular Numidia, in the other African provinces too they are most easily surpassed by our number—or at any rate, in comparison with all the nations among whom the Catholic communion is spread abroad, we most rightly declare them to be very few indeed. But now, if they had wished their number to become known, would it not more orderly and quietly
become known through their signatures, which you admonished them by edict to append at your bidding and in your sight? What then do they mean by desiring that all be present at the place of the conference? For if they are not intent on peace, what will they not throw into confusion if they speak—or what will they do there by keeping silent? For even if there be no shouting, the mere whispering of the many will make a noise great enough to hinder that conference.
But what is it that they thought fit to put in their notice—that they had justly demanded that all be present, because all were summoned to come—as though a few could be chosen who ought to be present, except by all who had come, so that in your presence they might subscribe to their selection, and thus in the few all might be represented, since by all the few had been chosen? Either then a tumult is being planned by them, or peace.
Of these we desire the one and guard against the other; and therefore, lest perchance—which God forbid—that which we guard against should be prepared rather than that which we desire, we consent that all those be present, provided nonetheless that from our side only so great a number be present as has seemed sufficient to your honour, so that if anything tumultuous should break out through the crowds, it may rightly be charged only to those in whose party there was present, for a matter that must be conducted by a few, an altogether superfluous multitude. But if—which we long for with all our prayers, which we ardently seek, which we humbly beseech of the Lord—that great multitude shall be needed for the making of unity, then, when they are willing, we shall all be present, and with the help of Him who grants this we shall eagerly hasten to so great a good, saying:
'You are our brethren'—no longer to those who detest us, but to those who, their hatred now ended, embrace us—that the name of the Lord may be honoured and may appear to them in gladness, as we now experience together with them how good and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell in unity. [And in another hand:] We desire, son, that you fare well in God. [Again in another hand:] I, Aurelius, bishop of the Catholic Church of Carthage, have subscribed. [Likewise:] I, Silvanus, of the primatial see of the province of Numidia, have subscribed. 130. AUGUSTINE, BISHOP, SERVANT OF CHRIST AND OF THE SERVANTS OF CHRIST, TO PROBA, THE DEVOUT HANDMAID OF GOD, GREETING IN THE LORD OF LORDS.
Recalling that you asked, and that I promised, to write something to you about praying to God, now that, by the gift of Him whom we entreat, the time and opportunity have been granted, it has become fitting that I should at last discharge my debt and, in loving zeal, serve you in the charity of Christ. But how greatly your very request delighted me—in which I recognized how much care you take for so great a matter—I cannot express in words. For what business ought to have been greater for your widowhood than to persist in prayers night and day, according to the Apostle's admonition? For he says: 'She that is a widow indeed, and desolate, has hoped in the Lord and continues in prayers night and day.'
Hence it may seem wonderful that, though according to this world you are noble, rich, and the mother of so great a family, and therefore, though a widow, yet not desolate—how it is that the care of praying has taken possession of your heart and especially claimed you for itself, unless because you prudently understand that in this world and in this life no soul can be secure. Accordingly, He who gave you that thought is surely doing what He did when His disciples were saddened and despairing that anyone could be saved—after they had heard from Him that it is easier for a camel to enter through the eye of a needle than for a rich man into the kingdom of heaven—He answered by a marvellous and most merciful promise that what is impossible for men is easy for God.
To Him, therefore, for whom it is easy that even a rich person should enter the kingdom of heaven, breathed into you the pious solicitude about which you thought I should be consulted—namely, in what manner you ought to pray. For He, while He was yet here in the flesh, sent the rich Zacchaeus into the kingdom of heaven; and, glorified by resurrection and ascension, afterwards, by imparting the Holy Spirit, made many rich men despisers of this world and, once the desire of riches was ended, richer than before. For how would you so strive to pray to the Lord, unless you hoped in Him? And how would you hope in Him, if you hoped in the uncertainty of riches and despised that most wholesome precept which the Apostle utters:
'Charge the rich of this world not to be high-minded nor to hope in the uncertainty of riches, but in the living God, who gives us all things abundantly to enjoy; let them be rich in good works, ready to give, to share, to lay up for themselves a good foundation for the time to come, that they may lay hold on the true life.' You ought therefore, for love of this true life, to reckon yourself desolate even in this world, in whatever felicity of it you may find yourself. For just as there is that true life, in comparison with which this life—which is so much loved, however pleasant and prolonged it may be—is not even to be called life, so also there is a true consolation, which God promises through the prophet, saying:
'I will give them true consolation, peace upon peace'—without which consolation, whatever earthly consolations there may be, there is found in them desolation rather than consolation. For riches and the summits of dignities and other things of this kind, by which mortals think themselves happy who are yet strangers to that true happiness—what consolation do they bring, since it were more excellent for one not to need them than to excel through them; things which, once attained, torment more by the fear of losing them than, while coveted, by the ardour of attaining them? Men are not made good by such goods, but, being made good from another source, by using them well they bring it about that these things are goods. There are therefore no true consolations in these things, but rather there, where there is the true life. For a man must needs be made blessed from the same source whence he is made good.
But good men are seen to afford no small consolations even in this life. For if poverty pinches, if grief saddens, if bodily pain disquiets, if exile brings distress, if any other calamity vexes—let good men be at hand, who know not only to rejoice with those who rejoice, but also to weep with those who weep, and know how to speak wholesomely and to converse: those bitter things are greatly softened, heavy burdens are lightened, adversities are overcome. But He works this in them and through them, who by His Spirit makes men good.
On the contrary, if riches flow round about, if no bereavement befall, if there be health of the flesh, if one dwell unharmed in one's native land, and yet evil men dwell alongside, among whom there is none in whom trust may be placed, from whom deceit, fraud, angers, discords, and treacheries are not endured and feared—do not all those things become bitter and hard, and is there nothing joyful or sweet in them? So in any human affairs whatever, nothing is friendly to a man without a friendly man. But how far can such a one be found, about whose mind and morals there is in this life a sure security? For just as no one is known to another as he is known to himself, so not even is anyone so known to himself as to be secure about his own conduct on the morrow.
Accordingly, although many are known by their fruits, and some indeed gladden their neighbours by living well, while others sadden them by living badly, yet, on account of the unknown and uncertain things of human minds, the Apostle most rightly admonishes us that we judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come and illuminate the hidden things of darkness and make manifest the thoughts of the heart, and then shall each one have praise from God.
In these shadows, then, of this life, in which we are pilgrims away from the Lord, so long as we walk by faith and not by sight, the Christian soul ought to reckon itself desolate, lest it cease to pray and to fix the eye of faith upon the word of the divine and holy Scriptures, as upon a lamp set in a dark place, until the day dawn and the day-star arise in our hearts. For a certain ineffable fountain of this lamp is that Light which so shines in the darkness that it is not comprehended by the darkness—for the seeing of which hearts must be cleansed by faith. For 'blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God'; and: 'We know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.'
Then shall there be true life after death and true consolation after desolation. That life shall deliver our soul from death, and that consolation our eyes from tears; and, since there shall then be no temptation, therefore it follows in the same psalm: 'my feet from falling.' Moreover, if there be no temptation, then there is no prayer; for it will no longer be the expectation of a good promised, but the contemplation of a good rendered. Hence he says: 'I will please the Lord in the land of the living,' where we shall then be, not in the desert of the dead, where we now are. 'For you are dead,' says the Apostle, 'and your life is hidden with Christ in God; when Christ, your life, shall appear, then shall you also appear with Him in glory.'
This is the true life which the rich are bidden to lay hold of by good works; and there is the true consolation, by which consolation now even a widow who is desolate—even one who has sons and grandsons and piously governs her household, acting with all her own that they may place their hope in God—nonetheless says in prayer: 'My soul has thirsted for you; how manifoldly has my flesh thirsted for you, in a land desert and without a way and without water'—which is this dying life, with however many mortal consolations it be frequented, by however many fellow-travellers it be accompanied, with however great an abundance of things it be heaped up. For you know indeed how uncertain all these things are; and in comparison with that promised felicity, what would they be, even if they were not uncertain?
This I have said because you, a widow rich and noble and the mother of so great a family, sought my discourse about prayer, so that even with your own who remain and attend upon you in this life, you might feel yourself desolate, since you have not yet laid hold of that life where there is true and certain consolation, where shall be fulfilled what was said in the prophecy: 'We are satisfied in the morning with your mercy, and we have rejoiced and been delighted in all our days; we have rejoiced for the days in which you humbled us, for the years in which we saw evils.' Before, therefore, that consolation comes, with however great a felicity of temporal goods you may abound, in order that you may persist in prayers night and day, remember that you are desolate.
For the Apostle did not grant this office to just any widow, but to one who 'is a widow indeed,' he says, 'and desolate, who has hoped in the Lord and continues in prayers night and day.' But as to what follows, beware most vigilantly: 'She, however, who lives in pleasures, is dead while living.' For a person acts in those things which he loves, which he seeks after as a great thing, in which he believes himself blessed. Wherefore, as Scripture said of riches: 'If riches abound, set not your heart upon them,' this too I say to you of pleasures: 'If pleasures abound, set not your heart upon them.' Do not on that account esteem yourself greatly, because they are not lacking, because they are abundantly at hand, because as from a most bounteous fountain of earthly felicity they flow.
Look down upon these things altogether within yourself, and despise them, so that you seek nothing in them beyond sound bodily health. For this is not to be despised, on account of the necessary uses of this life, before this mortal shall put on immortality—that is, true and perfect and perpetual health, which is not, failing through earthly infirmity, restored by corruptible pleasure, but, persisting in heavenly firmness, is quickened by eternal incorruption. For the Apostle himself says: 'Make no provision for the flesh in its lusts,' because we bear care of the flesh, but toward the necessity of health. 'For no one ever hated his own flesh,' as he likewise himself says.
Hence it is that he also admonishes Timothy, who, as it appears, was too severe a chastiser of his body, to use a little wine on account of his stomach and his frequent infirmities. These pleasures, then—in which if a widow acts, that is, if by delight of heart she clings and dwells, being alive she is dead—many holy men and women, guarding against them in every way, have cast away riches as though they were the very mothers of pleasures, by dispersing them among the poor, and have rather stored them up in another manner in heavenly treasures. But if you, bound by some duty of piety, do not do this, you know what account you render to God concerning these things. For no one knows what is done in a man, save the spirit of the man which is in him.
We ought not to judge anything before the time, until the Lord come and illuminate the hidden things of darkness and shall make manifest the thoughts of the heart; and then shall each one have praise from God. Yet it pertains to your widow's care that, if pleasures abound, you set not your heart upon them, lest by rotting in them there die that which ought to be on high, that it may live. Reckon yourself in that number of whom it is written: 'Their hearts shall live for ever and ever.' You have heard in what manner you should pray; hear also what you should pray for, about which you especially thought I should be consulted, since you are troubled by what the Apostle says: 'For we know not what we should pray for as we ought,' and you feared lest it should hurt you more not to pray as one ought than not to pray at all. This, then, can be said briefly thus:
Pray for the blessed life; for this all men wish to have. For even those who live most wickedly and dissolutely would in no way live thus, unless in that manner they thought themselves either to be, or to become, blessed. What else, then, ought one to pray for, save that which both the evil and the good desire, but at which none but the good arrive? Here perhaps you may now ask what this blessed life itself is. On this question the many talents and leisures of the philosophers have been worn away, who nonetheless were the less able to find it, the less they honoured its fountain and gave it thanks. First, then, consider whether we should assent to those who say that he is blessed who lives according to his own will. But far be it that we should believe this to be true. For what if he should wish to live wickedly?
Is he not proved to be the more wretched the more easily his evil will is fulfilled? Deservedly this opinion was rejected even by those who philosophized without the worship of God. For a certain most eloquent man among them says: 'But behold, others, not indeed philosophers, yet ready for disputation, all say that those are blessed who live as they themselves will. This is indeed false; for to will what is not fitting is itself the most wretched thing; nor is it so wretched not to attain what you will, as to wish to attain what you ought not.' How do these words seem to you? Were they not spoken by Truth itself through whatever man? We can therefore say here what the Apostle said of a certain Cretan prophet, when his opinion had pleased him:
'This testimony is true.' He therefore is blessed who has all that he wills and wills nothing that is not fitting. But if it is so, consider now what things men may will not unbecomingly. One wishes to marry; another, bereaved of marriage by widowhood, thenceforth chooses to live continently; another wishes to experience no cohabitation, not even in marriage itself. And if one of these is found to be better than another, yet none of them can we say wills anything unbecomingly; so also to desire children—namely, the fruit of marriage—and, for those who have been conceived, life and salvation: with which vow widowed continence too is for the most part occupied; for even if, marriage being spurned, they now no longer desire to beget children, yet they desire that those whom they have begotten should live unharmed.
From all this care virginal integrity is exempt; yet all have dear ones, male and female, for whom they may not unbecomingly wish even temporal welfare. But when men have attained this welfare in themselves and in those whom they love, shall we then be able to call them already blessed? For they have something which it is not unbecoming to will; but if they have not other things, greater and better and fuller of usefulness and comeliness, they are still far from the blessed life. Does it please us, then, that above this temporal welfare they should wish for themselves and their own honours and powers? Certainly, if it be to take counsel through these for those who live under them—not for the sake of these very things, but for the sake of something else that comes to be good thereby—it is fitting to will them;
but if it be for the sake of vain pomp of self-exaltation and superfluous, or even harmful, display of vanity, it is not fitting. Wherefore, if they wish for themselves and their own also a sufficiency of necessary things—of which the Apostle thus speaks: 'But godliness with sufficiency is great gain; for we brought nothing into this world, and neither can we carry anything out of it; but having food and covering, with these we are content. For those who wish to become rich fall into temptation and a snare and many foolish and hurtful desires, which plunge men into destruction and perdition;
for the love of money is the root of all evils, which some coveting have erred from the faith and entangled themselves in many sorrows'—this sufficiency, then, whoever wills it and wills nothing beyond, wills not unbecomingly; otherwise he wills not sufficiency itself, and therefore wills not fittingly. This did he desire and for this did he pray who said: 'Give me neither riches nor poverty; but appoint for me the things that are needful, sufficiently, lest, being filled, I become a liar and say, «Who sees me?»—or, being made poor, I steal and forswear the name of my God.'
You surely see that this sufficiency too is not sought for its own sake, but for the health of the body and for a station befitting a person's rank—a station in which one may not be unsuited to those with whom one must live honourably and in the discharge of duty. And so, in all these things, the safety of a man and friendship are sought for their own sake; but a sufficiency of necessary things is wont to be sought, not for its own sake, but for the sake of the two things above—when it is sought becomingly. Now safety consists in the very life and health and integrity of mind and body. Likewise friendship is not to be bounded by narrow limits; for it embraces all to whom love and affection are due, although it inclines more freely toward some, more hesitantly toward others;
but it reaches even to enemies, for whom also we are bidden to pray. So there is no one in the human race to whom love is not due, even if not for the sake of mutual charity, yet for the sake of the fellowship itself of a common nature. But these delight us much and justly, by whom in turn we are loved in holiness and chastity. When these things are had, we must pray that they may be held; and when they are not had, that they may be had. Is this the whole, and are these all the things by which the sum of the blessed life is gathered together? Or does Truth teach something else, which is to be preferred to all these?
For both that sufficiency and that very safety, whether one's own or one's friends', so long as it is temporal, must be cast away for the attaining of eternal life—although perhaps the body may, yet a mind is by no means to be esteemed sound which does not set eternal things before temporal. For life is not lived profitably in time, save for the acquiring of the merit whereby one may live in eternity. To that one life, then, in which one lives with God and of God, the other things—those which are profitably and becomingly desired—must without doubt be referred. For in this we love our very selves, if we love God; and by the other precept we truly love our neighbours as ourselves, if we lead them, as far as in us lies, to a like love of God.