On the Duties of the Clergy 1.21–1.28

Let anger be guarded against, or, if it cannot be guarded against beforehand, restrained; for indignation is an evil enticer to sin, which so disturbs the mind that it leaves no room for reason. The first thing, then, if it can be done, is that tranquillity of character be turned into nature by a kind of habit, affection, and purpose. Then, since this impulse is usually so fixed in nature and character that it cannot be torn out or avoided, let it be checked by reason, if it can be foreseen. Or if the mind has been seized by indignation before it could be foreseen and provided against by counsel, so as not to be seized, consider how to conquer the impulse of your mind and temper your anger. Resist anger if you can; give way if you cannot; for it is written: “Give place to wrath.” Jacob dutifully gave way to his angry brother, and, instructed by the counsel of Rebecca, that is, of patience, he preferred to go away and live abroad rather than inflame his brother’s indignation, and to return when he thought his brother appeased. And so he found such great grace with God. Then with what courtesies, with what great gifts, did he reconcile his brother to himself, so that his brother did not remember the blessing snatched from him but remembered the satisfaction offered! So if anger has forestalled and seized your mind and risen up against you, do not leave your place. Your place is patience, your place is wisdom, your place is reason, your place is the calming of indignation. Or if the obstinacy of someone answering back has moved you and his perversity has driven you to indignation, if you cannot calm your mind, restrain your tongue. For thus it is written: “Keep your tongue from evil, and your lips from speaking deceit.” Then: “Seek peace and pursue it.” See that peace of holy Jacob: first calm your mind; if you do not succeed, put a bridle on your tongue; then do not neglect the effort at reconciliation. The orators of the world took these things from ours and put them in their books; but the thought belongs to him who said it first. Let us, then, avoid anger or temper it, lest it make an exception in our praises or an aggravation in our faults. It is no small thing to calm anger; it is not less than not to be moved at all. The one is our doing, the other nature’s. Indeed, impulses in children are harmless and have more charm than bitterness. And if children are quickly moved against one another, they are easily calmed and run back to one another with greater sweetness. They do not know how to deal with one another craftily and artfully. Do not despise these children, of whom the Lord says: “Unless you are converted and become like this child, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.” So the Lord himself, that is, the power of God, like a child, when he was reviled did not revile in return, when he was struck did not strike back. Prepare yourself, then, so that like a child you do not hold on to an injury, do not practise malice: let everything proceed from you innocently. Do not consider what comes back to you from others. Keep your place; guard the simplicity and purity of your heart. Do not answer an angry man according to his anger, or a fool according to his folly. One fault quickly strikes out another. If you rub stones together, does not fire break out? Let the pagans, who usually exaggerate everything in words, extol the saying of the philosopher Archytas of Tarentum, which he said to his bailiff: “O wretch, how I would punish you, if I were not angry!” But David had already restrained his armed right hand in his indignation. And how much more is it not to revile in return than not to take vengeance? And Abigail by her entreaty had called back the warriors ready for vengeance against Nabal. From this we notice that we ought not only to yield to timely intercessions but even to be delighted by them. He was so delighted that he blessed her who intervened, because he had been called back from his eagerness for vengeance. He had already said of his enemies: “For they turned iniquity upon me, and in anger they were troublesome to me.” Let us hear what he said when troubled in anger: “Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will fly and be at rest?” They provoked him to anger; he chose tranquillity. He had already said: “Be angry and do not sin.” The moral teacher, who knew that a natural affection should be bent by the reason of teaching rather than rooted out, teaches morals; that is: be angry where there is a fault at which you ought to be angry. For it cannot be that we are not moved by the unworthiness of things; otherwise it would be judged not virtue but sluggishness and slackness. Be angry, then, in such a way that you abstain from fault. Or thus: if you are angry, do not sin, but conquer anger by reason. Or certainly thus: if you are angry, be angry with yourselves, because you have been moved, and you will not sin. For he who is angry with himself because he was quickly moved ceases to be angry with another; but he who wants to prove his anger just is inflamed the more and quickly falls into fault. Better, according to Solomon, is he who restrains his anger than he who takes a city; for anger deceives even the brave. We ought, then, to take care not to fall into disturbances before reason has composed our minds; for anger or grief or fear of death often unnerves the mind and strikes it with an unforeseen blow. Therefore it is fine to forestall them by reflection, which exercises the mind by turning things over, so that it may not be roused by sudden emotions but grow gentle, bound by a kind of yoke and reins of reason.

There are two kinds of impulses, that is, of thoughts and of appetite: the one belongs to thoughts, the other to appetite; not confused, but distinct and unlike. Thoughts have the task of seeking out the truth and, as it were, grinding it out; appetite drives and rouses to doing something. So, by the very kind of their nature, thoughts pour in the tranquillity of calm, and appetite stirs up the impulse to act. Let us, then, be so formed that the thought of good things may enter the mind and appetite obey reason (if we truly wish to direct our mind to keeping that seemliness), lest the desire for anything shut out reason; but let reason examine what befits virtue. And since we have said that it belongs to the preservation of seemliness that we know what measure there is in deeds and words, and the order of speaking comes before that of doing, speech is divided into two: familiar conversation, and the treatment and discussion of faith and justice. In both one must take care that there is no disturbance; but let speech be conducted gently and calmly, full of kindness and grace, without any insult. Let obstinate contention be absent from familiar conversation; for it tends to stir up empty questions rather than to bring anything useful. Let there be discussion without anger, pleasantness without bitterness, admonition without harshness, exhortation without offence. And as in every act of life we ought to beware lest an excessive movement of the mind shut out reason, but should keep a place for counsel, so also in speech it is fitting to keep that rule, so that neither anger nor hatred is roused, nor do we show any signs of our desire or our sloth. Let such speech, then, be chiefly about the Scriptures. For what ought we to speak of more than of the best manner of life, exhortation to observance, and the keeping of discipline? Let its beginning have reason and its end measure. For tedious speech rouses anger. And how unseemly it is that, while all conversation usually brings an increase of grace, it should have the blemish of offence! The treatment of the teaching of the faith, of instruction in self-control, of the discussion of justice, of exhortation to diligence, should not always be one and the same; but as the reading has offered it, it must be taken up by us and, as far as we can, pursued: neither too long nor too quickly broken off, lest it leave weariness behind or betray and incur sloth. Let the discourse be pure, simple, clear, and plain, full of gravity and weight; without affected elegance, yet not lacking in grace.

Besides, secular men give many precepts about the method of speaking, which I think we should pass over, such as the discipline of jesting. For although jokes are sometimes decent and pleasant, they are foreign to the rule of the Church; for how can we take up what we do not find in the holy Scriptures? We must take care even in stories, lest they bend the gravity of a stricter purpose. “Woe to you who laugh, for you will weep!” says the Lord; and do we seek matter for laughter, so that, laughing here, we may weep there? I think that not only excessive jokes but all jokes are to be avoided; unless perhaps it is not unseemly for speech to be full of sweetness and grace. As for the voice, what shall I say? I think it enough that it be simple and pure; to be musical belongs to nature, not to effort. Let it, indeed, be distinct in the manner of its pronunciation and full of manly vigour, so that it avoids a boorish and rustic sound; not so as to affect a theatrical rhythm, but so as to keep a sacred one.

Enough has been said, I think, about the method of speaking; now let us consider what befits the conduct of life. We see three things to be regarded in this kind. First, that appetite should not struggle against reason; for only so can our duties agree with that seemliness. For if appetite obeys reason, what is becoming can easily be preserved in all duties. Second, that we may not seem, by a zeal greater or less than the matter undertaken requires, either to have taken up a small matter with great display or to have abandoned a great one with lesser effort. Third, I think I must not pass over the moderation of our pursuits and works, and also the order of things and the fitness of times. But the first is, as it were, the foundation of all, that appetite obey reason; the second and third are the same, that is, moderation in both. For with us the consideration of a liberal appearance, which is held to be beauty, and of dignity, has no place. There follows the order of things and the fitness of times. And so there are three things, and let us see whether we can show them perfected in any of the saints. First, father Abraham himself, who was formed and instructed for teaching the generations to come, when he was commanded to go out from his country and his kindred and his father’s house, did he not, though bound by the affection of manifold ties, nevertheless show an appetite obedient to reason? For whom would the charm of his own land, his kindred, and his own house not delight? This man too, then, was soothed by the sweetness of his own people, but the consideration of the heavenly command and of an eternal reward moved him more. Did he not consider that his wife, weak for labours, tender to injuries, beautiful enough to rouse the incitements of insolent men, could not be taken along without the greatest danger? And yet he judged it wiser to undergo everything than to excuse himself. Then, when he went down into Egypt, he advised her to say that she was his sister, not his wife. Notice how great his appetites were. He feared for his wife’s chastity, he feared for his own safety, he suspected the lusts of the Egyptians; and yet the reasoning of carrying out his devotion prevailed with him. For he considered that by God’s favour he could be safe everywhere, but that if the Lord were offended he could not remain unharmed even at home. Reason, then, conquered appetite and made it obedient to itself. When his nephew was captured, not terrified nor disturbed by the peoples of so many kings, he renewed the war; when he had won the victory, he refused his share of the spoil, of which he himself was the winner. When a son was promised to him, though he considered the spent strength of his own body, already as good as dead, the barrenness of his wife, and his extreme old age, he believed God even against the course of nature. Notice how all things agree. Appetite was not lacking, but it was held down; his mind was equal to the things to be done, treating neither great things as cheap nor lesser things as great; there was moderation in his affairs, order in things, fitness of times, measure of words. First in faith, outstanding in justice, vigorous in battle, not greedy in victory, hospitable at home, attentive to his wife. His holy grandson Jacob too delighted to live safe at home; but his mother wanted him to go abroad, to give place to his brother’s anger. The soundness of counsel conquered appetite. An exile from home, a fugitive from his parents, he everywhere kept a fitting measure in his affairs and preserved fitness in times. He was so accepted at home by his parents that the one, moved by the ripeness of his obedience, gave him the blessing, and the other inclined to him with dutiful love. He was preferred even by his brother’s judgment, when he thought he should yield his food to his brother: he certainly enjoyed food according to nature, but according to dutiful love he gave it up when asked. A faithful shepherd to the master of the flock, a diligent son-in-law to his father-in-law, tireless in work, sparing at table, first in making amends, generous in repaying. So he calmed his brother’s anger, so that he gained the favour of the one whose enmity he feared. What shall I say of Joseph, who certainly had a desire for freedom and yet bore the necessity of slavery? How submissive in servitude, how constant in virtue, how kind in prison, wise in interpretation, moderate in power, provident in plenty, just in famine, adding the order of praise to things and fitness to times, dispensing equity to the peoples by the moderation of his office! Job too, blameless in prosperity and adversity alike, patient, pleasing and acceptable to God, was racked with pains but consoled himself. David too, brave in war, patient in adversity, peaceable in Jerusalem, gentle in victory, grieving in sin, provident in old age, kept the measures of things and the turns of times through the notes of each age, so that he seems to me to have poured forth to God, no less by his manner of life than by the sweetness of his singing, a most sweet and immortal song of his merit. What duty of the principal virtues was lacking to these men? Of these they placed first prudence, which is occupied in investigating the truth and instils the desire for fuller knowledge; second justice, which gives to each his own, does not claim another’s, and neglects its own advantage to guard common equity; third fortitude, which stands out both in war by loftiness of mind and at home, and excels in bodily strength; fourth temperance, which keeps measure and order in all that we judge must be done or said.

Perhaps someone may say that these things ought to have been put first, since the kinds of duties arise from these four virtues. But it belongs to art first to define duty and then to divide it into definite kinds. We avoid art, as foreign to us; we set forth the examples of our forefathers, which bring neither obscurity to understanding nor trickery to treatment. Let the life of our forefathers, then, be for us a mirror of discipline, not a commentary of cunning; a reverence for imitating, not an astuteness in disputing. In holy Abraham, then, there was first prudence, of whom Scripture says: “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him for righteousness.” For no one is prudent who does not know God. Indeed, “the fool said there is no God”; for a wise man would not say it. For how is he wise who does not seek his maker, who says to a stone: “You are my father”? who says to the devil, as the Manichaean does: “You are my maker”? How is the Arian wise, who prefers to have an imperfect and degenerate maker rather than a true and perfect one? How are Marcion and Eunomius wise, who prefer to have an evil God rather than a good one? How is he wise who does not fear his God? For “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” And elsewhere you have: “The wise do not turn aside from the mouth of the Lord, but discuss it in their confessions.” At the same time, when Scripture says, “It was reckoned to him for righteousness,” it conferred on him the grace of another virtue. Our people, then, were the first to define prudence as consisting in the knowledge of the truth. For which of the philosophers was before Abraham, David, and Solomon? Then they defined justice as looking to the fellowship of the human race. Indeed David says: “He has scattered, he has given to the poor; his righteousness endures for ever.” “The just man is merciful, the just man lends.” To the wise and just man the whole world is full of riches. The just man counts common things as his own and his own as common. The just man accuses himself before others. For he is just who does not spare himself and does not allow his hidden things to lie hidden. See how just Abraham was. In old age he had received a son through the promise; when the Lord asked him back for sacrifice, he did not think he should refuse him, though he was his only son. Notice here all four virtues in one deed. It was of wisdom to believe God and not to put the love of a son before the command of the Maker; it was of justice to give back what had been received; it was of fortitude to restrain appetite by reason. The father led the victim, the son asked questions; the father’s affection was tried but not conquered. The son repeated the name of father; he pierced his father’s heart, but did not lessen his devotion. The fourth virtue, temperance, is added too. The just man kept the measure of piety and the order of carrying it out. Indeed, while he carries what is needed for the sacrifice, while he kindles the fire, while he binds his son, while he draws the sword, by this order of sacrificing he merited to keep his son. What is wiser than holy Jacob, who saw God face to face and merited the blessing? What more just than he who divided what he had acquired with his brother by offering gifts? What braver than he who wrestled with God? What more modest than he who so deferred to modesty in places and times that he preferred to cover his daughter’s wrong with marriage rather than avenge it, because, being placed among strangers, he judged that one should consult for love rather than gather hatreds? How wise was Noah, who built so great an ark! How just, who, kept as the seed of all, alone of all became both the survivor of the past generation and the author of the future, born for the world and for all rather than for himself! How brave, to overcome the flood! How temperate, to endure the flood! When he should enter, with what moderation he should live, when he should send out the raven, when the dove, when he should take them back as they returned, when he should seize the opportunity of going out—he knew.

So they hold that in investigating truth that seemliness must be kept: that we seek with the greatest zeal what is true, not take false things for true, not wrap true things in obscurity, and not occupy the mind with superfluous or tangled and ambiguous matters. What is so unseemly as to worship wood, which they themselves do? What is so obscure as to treat of astronomy and geometry, which they approve, and to measure the spaces of the deep air, and to enclose heaven and sea too in numbers; to leave aside the causes of salvation and seek out errors? But Moses, who was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, did not approve these things; he judged that wisdom loss and folly, and turning away from it he sought God with the deepest affection; and so he saw him, questioned him, and heard him speaking. Who is wiser than he whom God taught, who by the power of his work made void all the wisdom of the Egyptians and all the powers of their arts? He did not hold unknown things for known and rashly assent to them. Let those learn that these two faults are to be avoided in this most natural and honourable matter who judge it neither against nature nor shameful to adore stones and to seek help from images that feel nothing. The more excellent a virtue wisdom is, the more I think we must strive to attain it. So, that we may think nothing against nature, nothing shameful and unseemly, we ought to devote these two things, time and diligence, to the consideration of things for the sake of examining them. For there is nothing by which man excels the other living things more than that he shares in reason, seeks the causes of things, and thinks he should search out the author of his race, in whose power lies the power of our life and death, who rules this world by his nod, to whom we know an account of our actions must be rendered. For nothing profits more for an honourable life than to believe that he will be our judge whom hidden things do not deceive, whom unseemly things offend, and whom honourable things delight. It is in all men, then, according to human nature, to investigate the truth, which draws us to the pursuit of knowledge and learning and pours in the desire of inquiry. To excel all in this seems fine, but it belongs to few to attain it, who, by turning over thoughts and examining counsels, spend no small labour so that they may come to that blessed and honourable living and draw near to it by works. “For not everyone,” he says, “who says to me, Lord, Lord, will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the things I say.” For as to pursuits of knowledge without deeds, I am not sure that they do not entangle one even more.

The first source of duty, then, is prudence. For what is so full of duty as to give zeal and reverence to the Creator? Yet this source flows also into the other virtues; for justice cannot exist without prudence, since to examine what is just or unjust belongs to no small prudence; the error either way is very great. For he who judges the just unjust, or the unjust just, is accursed before God. “Why does justice abound for the imprudent?” Solomon says. Nor again is there prudence without justice; for “piety towards God is the beginning of understanding.” From this we notice that the saying that piety is the foundation of all the virtues was borrowed rather than discovered by the wise men of this world. But the piety of justice is first towards God, second towards the fatherland, third towards parents, then towards all; and this too is according to the teaching of nature. For from the beginning of life, as soon as understanding begins to be poured in, we love life as God’s gift, we love our fatherland and parents, then our equals with whom we wish to be associated. From this arises love, which prefers others to itself, not seeking its own, and in which justice has its chief place. It is also inborn in all living things first to protect their safety, to avoid what harms, to seek what helps, such as food and hiding places with which to defend themselves from danger, rain, and sun, which belongs to prudence. It follows too that all kinds of living things are by nature sociable, first with those who share their kind and form, then also with others; as we see oxen delight in herds, horses in droves, and especially like in like; deer too with deer, and often joining themselves to men. And what shall I say of their eagerness to beget and of their offspring, or of the love of parents, in which there is a chief form of justice? It is clear, then, that these and the remaining virtues are akin to one another. For fortitude, which either protects the fatherland from barbarians in war or defends the weak at home or companions from robbers, is full of justice; and to know with what counsel to defend and help, and to seize the fitness of times and places, belongs to prudence and modesty; and temperance itself cannot know measure without prudence; to know fitness and to render according to measure belongs to justice; and in all these greatness of soul is necessary, and a certain fortitude of mind, and often of body, so that one may be able to fulfil what one wills.

Justice, then, relates to the fellowship of the human race and to community. For the principle of fellowship is divided into two parts, justice and beneficence, which they also call liberality and kindness. Justice seems to me loftier, liberality more pleasing; the one holds judgment, the other goodness. But the very thing the philosophers think is the first office of justice is excluded among us. For they say that the first form of justice is that one harm no one unless provoked by injury; this is made void by the authority of the Gospel; for Scripture wishes that there be in us the spirit of the Son of Man, who came to confer grace, not to inflict injury. Then they thought it a form of justice that one should treat common, that is, public things as public, and private things as one’s own. Not even this is according to nature; for nature has poured out all things for all in common. For God commanded all things to be produced so that there should be food in common for all and the earth should be a kind of common possession of all. Nature, then, produced common right; usurpation made private right. On this point they say the Stoics held that all things produced on earth are created for the use of men, but that men were born for the sake of men, so that they might be of use to one another. Where did they get this if not from our Scriptures? For Moses wrote that God said: “Let us make man in our image and likeness, and let him have power over the fish of the sea, and the birds of the air, and the cattle, and all creeping things upon the earth.” And David says: “You have put all things under his feet, sheep and all oxen, and the beasts of the field besides, the birds of the air and the fish of the sea.” So they learned from ours that all things are subject to man, and therefore think they were produced for man’s sake. That man too was produced for man’s sake we find in the books of Moses, where the Lord says: “It is not good for man to be alone; let us make him a helper like himself.” So woman was given to man as a help, to bear children, so that man might be a help to man. Indeed, before the woman was formed, it was said of Adam: “There was not found a helper like him”; for man could have help only from man. Of all living things, then, no animal was like him, and, to speak absolutely, no helper of man was found: a helper of the female sex was awaited. So, according to God’s will and the bond of nature, we ought to help one another, to vie in services, to put all advantages, as it were, in the middle, and, to use the word of Scripture, to bring help one to another, by zeal, by service, by money, by works, or in any way, so that the grace of fellowship may increase among us. Nor let anyone be called back from duty even by fear of danger, but let him count everything, adverse or prosperous, as his own. Indeed holy Moses did not shrink from undertaking grievous wars for the people of his fatherland, nor did he tremble at the arms of a most powerful king, nor fear the ferocity of barbarian savagery; but he cast aside his own safety to restore liberty to the people. Great, then, is the splendour of justice, which, born for others rather than for itself, helps our community and fellowship; it holds a lofty place, so as to have all things subject to its judgment, to bring aid to others, to give money, not to refuse services, to undertake others’ dangers. Who would not desire to hold this citadel of virtue, if avarice did not first weaken and bend the vigour of so great a virtue? For while we desire to increase our wealth, to amass money, to occupy lands with possessions, to excel in riches, we put off the form of justice and lose common beneficence. For how can he be just who strives to snatch from another what he seeks for himself? The desire for power too makes the manly form of justice effeminate. For how can he intervene for others who tries to subject others to himself, and how can he bring help to the weak against the powerful who himself aims at a power burdensome to liberty?