Sermon 355

SERMO 355

On the Morals of Clerics, First Sermon

Good conscience and good reputation.

Because of this, I wanted and requested yesterday, that today your charity might gather more frequently, for this is what I am about to say. We live here with you, and for you we live: and our intention and desire is that with Christ we may live with you endlessly. I believe, however, that our conduct is before your eyes; so that we may perhaps dare to say, though we are very much unequal to him, what the Apostle said: Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ. And therefore I do not wish for anyone to find an occasion for living poorly from us. For we foresee good, says the same Apostle, not only before God but also before men. For ourselves, our conscience suffices for us: for you, our reputation ought not to be stained, but to flourish among you. Hold what I have said, and distinguish. There are two things: conscience and reputation. Conscience is for you, reputation is for your neighbor. He who, confident in his own conscience, neglects his reputation, is cruel: especially being placed in this position, of which the Apostle says, writing to his disciple: In all things present yourself as an example of good works.

Let there be poor people in the monastery. How Augustine arrived at the episcopate. Monastery established near the episcopate.

Therefore, so as not to detain you longer, especially since I am speaking while sitting, and you are laboring by standing: but you all know, or almost all of you know, that we live in that house which is called the bishop's house in such a way that, as much as we are able, we imitate those saints of whom the Book of the Acts of the Apostles speaks: "No one said that anything was their own, but they held everything in common." Because perhaps some of you are not so diligent in examining our lives to know this as I wish you to know it; I will briefly say what this is. I, whom you see, by the grace of God, your bishop, came to this city as a young man: many of you know that. I was seeking to establish a monastery and to live with my brothers. For I had renounced all worldly hope, and I did not wish to be what I could have been: however, I did not seek to be what I am. I chose to be an outcast in the house of my God rather than dwell in the tents of sinners. I separated myself from those who love the world: but I did not equate myself with those who are in authority over the people. Nor did I choose a higher place at the table of my Lord, but a lower and more humble one: and it pleased Him to say to me, "Ascend higher." I so greatly feared the episcopate that, since my reputation was already gaining some importance among the servants of God, I would not go to a place where I knew there was no bishop. I avoided this, and groaned as much as I could, to be saved in a lowly place, rather than be endangered in a lofty one. But, as I said, a servant should not contradict his Lord. I came to this city to see a friend, whom I thought I could gain for God, so that he might be with us in the monastery; I felt secure because the place had a bishop. I was apprehended, made a presbyter, and through this step, I arrived at the episcopate. I brought nothing, I came to this Church with nothing but the clothes I was wearing at that time. And because I planned to be in the monastery with the brothers, with my intent and will known, the blessed memory of old Valerius gave me that garden where the monastery now is. I began to gather brothers of good intent, companions in poverty, having nothing as I had, and imitating me: so that just as I sold my small property and distributed to the poor, they who wished to be with me would do the same, so that we might live from a common fund; and our common and abundant estate would be God Himself. I arrived at the episcopate: I saw that it was necessary for the bishop to show continual kindness to everyone who came or passed by: for if the bishop did not do this, he would be called unkind. But if this custom were placed aside in the monastery, it would be improper. And I wished to have in this bishop's house a monastery for clerics. Behold how we live. No one is allowed to have anything personal in common society. But perhaps some do. No one is allowed: if any have, they do what is not allowed. Yet I think well of my brothers, and always well-believing, I disregarded such inquisition: because this inquiry seemed to me similar to suspecting them ill. For I knew, and I know, all who live with me know our purpose, know the rule of our life.

Concerning January.

A presbyter named Januarius also came to us. What he seemed to have honorably, by distributing it, he almost spent but did not: a certain amount of money remained to him, which is silver, that he said was for his daughter. His daughter, with God's favor, is in a monastery of women, of good hope. May the Lord govern her, so that she may fulfill what we hope for her, in His mercy, not by her merits. And because she was underage and could not do anything with her money—even though we observed the brightness of her profession, we feared the mockery of her age—it was decreed that the silver itself was to be kept as if for the girl, so that when she reached legal age, she would do with it what would befit a virgin of Christ, when she could best do so. While awaiting this, he began to approach death; as long as he seemed to consider it his right, not his daughter's, he made a will. The presbyter, our colleague, I say, living with us, living off the Church, professing a communal life, made a will, appointing heirs. Oh, the sorrow of that society! Oh, the fruit born, not of the tree that the Lord planted! But he wrote the Church as an heir. I do not want these gifts; I do not love the fruit of bitterness. I sought him for God; he had professed brotherhood, he should have kept to it, he should have demonstrated it. Did he have nothing? He would not have made a will. Did he have something? He would not have pretended to be our poor comrade as if he were poor for God. This causes me great sorrow, brothers. I say to your Charity, on account of this sorrow, I have decided not to accept that inheritance for the Church. What he left belongs to his children; they may do what they wish with it. For it seems to me that if I accept it, I will be a participant in this deed, which displeases me and causes me grief. I wanted this not to remain hidden from your Charity. His daughter is in a monastery of women; his son is in a monastery of men. He disinherited them both: her with praise, him with a testimonial, that is, with blame. However, I have instructed the Church not to accept those portions that belong to the disinherited except when they reach legal age. The Church preserves this for them. Then he sent a dispute among his children, which I strive in. The girl says: It is mine; you know that my father always said so. The boy says: Believe my father, for he could not lie while dying. And what an evil is this contention! But if the boys themselves are servants of God, we quickly settle this dispute among them. I listen to them like a father, and perhaps better than their father. I will see what is between them, and as the Lord wills, with faithful and respected brothers, with God's favor, from among your number, that is, from this congregation, I will hear their cause, and as the Lord grants, I will settle it.

Augustine does not accept the inheritance of Januarius.

Nevertheless, I ask you, do not reproach me, because I do not wish the Church to receive this inheritance. First, because I detest the action; second, because it is my principle. Many praise what I am about to say, but some also reproach it. It is very difficult to satisfy both parties. You have just heard when the Gospel was read: We sang to you, and you did not dance; we lamented to you, and you did not weep. John the Baptist came neither eating nor drinking, and they say: He has a demon; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say: Behold, a glutton and a wine-drinker, a friend of tax collectors. So, what do I do among those who prepare to reproach me and gnash their teeth at me if I accept the inheritances of those who disinherit their children in anger? Again, what will I do to those whom I sing to, and they do not wish to dance? They say: Behold why no one donates anything to the Church of Hippo; behold why they do not make it an heir upon dying: because Bishop Augustine, in his goodness—indeed they bite by praising, caress with their lips, and fix their teeth—gives everything away, does not accept it. Clearly, I accept, I profess to accept good offerings, holy offerings. But if someone is angry with his son and disinherits him upon dying, if he were alive, would I not placate him? Should I not reconcile him with his son? How then, could I desire peace with his son, whose inheritance I seek? But clearly, if he does what I have often urged: has one son, let him think of Christ as another; has two sons, let him think of Christ as a third; has ten sons, let him make Christ the eleventh, and I will accept. Therefore, because I have acted thus in certain matters, they now want to change my goodness or the praise of my reputation in another direction, so that they may reproach me in a different way, who do not wish to accept the offerings of devout men. Let them consider how many I have received. What need is there to count them? Behold, I say one: I received the inheritance of Julian's sons. Why? Because he died without children.

Why Boniface did not accept the inheritance.

Boniface, that is Fati, I refused to accept the inheritance: not out of mercy, but out of fear. I did not want the Church of Christ to be a shipping company. Indeed, there are many who profit from ships. However, if there were one temptation, if the ship sailed and wrecked: would we then hand over people to be tortured to investigate the sinking of the ship, as is customary, and would they be tortured by a judge after being saved from the waves? But would we hand them over? By no means is this appropriate for the Church. So should she pay the fiscal burden? But from where would she get it? It is not allowed for us to have an income. It is not fitting for the bishop to reserve gold and to turn away the hand of the beggar. Daily so many ask, so many lament, so many poor plead; we leave many sad because we do not have what to give to all; and would we keep an income for the sake of a shipwreck? Therefore, I did this avoiding it, not bestowing it. No one should praise it, but no one should blame it either. Certainly, when I gave to the son what the angry father took away while dying, I did well. Let those who wish praise, and those who do not wish to praise, abstain. What more, my brothers? Whoever wants to make the Church the heir instead of a disinherited son, let him seek another who will accept it, not Augustine: indeed, with God's favor, may he find no one. How commendable was the deed of the holy and venerable bishop Aurelius of Carthage, and how he filled with those who know, the mouth with praises of God! Some, when they had no sons nor hoped for any, donated all their possessions to the Church, reserving the usufruct for themselves. Sons were born to them, and the bishop returned to the unsuspecting what they had donated. The bishop had the power not to return it, through the right of the court, not through the right of heaven.

Why Augustine changed his plan.

Indeed, let your Charity also know that I have told my brothers, who remain with me, that whoever has something, let him either sell it and distribute it, or give it, or make it common: let the Church have it, through which God feeds us. And I gave a postponement until Epiphany, for those who either have not divided it with their brothers and left what they have with their brothers, or have not yet done anything with their property, because the legal age was awaited. Let them do with it what they want: as long as they are poor with me, let us together wait for the mercy of God. But if there are those who do not want it, who perhaps do not want it: certainly, I am the one who had decided, as you know, to ordain no cleric, except one who wants to remain with me: so that if he wants to deviate from the purpose, I would rightly take away the clerical state from him, because he would be deserting the promise of the holy society and the begun companionship; behold, in the sight of God and you, I change counsel: those who want to have something of their own, for whom God and His Church are not enough, let them stay where they want and where they can, I do not take away the clerical state from them. I do not wish to have hypocrites. Is it not known to be evil? It is evil to fall away from the purpose; but it is worse to pretend the purpose. Behold, I say: he who deserts the already taken up society of communal life, which is praised in the Acts of the Apostles, falls: he falls from his vow, he falls from the holy profession. Let him observe the judge, but God, not me. I do not take away the clerical state from him. As much as it is a danger, I have placed before his eyes: let him do what he wants. For I know that if I tried to degrade someone doing this, he would not lack patrons, he would not lack defenders, even here among bishops, who would say: What evil has he done? He cannot endure this life with you: he wants to remain outside the bishop, to live from his own means, should he therefore lose the clerical state? I know how much evil it is to profess something holy and not fulfill it. "Vow," he says, "and pay to the Lord your God," and: "It is better not to vow, than to vow and not pay." She is a virgin: if she has never been in a monastery, and is a sacred virgin, it is not permitted for her to marry. She is not compelled to be in a monastery; but if she has begun to be in a monastery, and has deserted, and yet is a virgin, she falls halfway. Likewise, a cleric has professed two things, both holiness and the clerical state: in the meantime holiness — for God imposed the clerical state upon his shoulders through His people: it is more a burden than an honor, but who is wise and understands these? — indeed, he professed holiness: he professed the society of living communally, he professed how good and pleasant it is for brothers to live together in unity. If he falls from this purpose, and remains outside as a cleric, he too falls halfway. What is it to me? I do not judge him. If he keeps holiness outside, he falls halfway; if he bears simulation inside, he falls completely. I do not wish him to have the necessity of pretending. I know how men love the clerical state: I do not take it from anyone unwilling to live communally with me. He has God, who wants to remain with me. If he is ready to be fed by God through His Church, to have nothing of his own, but either to distribute to the poor or to put it into the common, let him stay with me. If he does not want this, let him have liberty: but let him see whether he can have eternal happiness.

He promises a following discourse.

Let this now suffice for your Charity. What I will do with my brothers - for I hope for good that all will willingly obey me and I will not find any holding something, unless for some necessity of religion, not for the occasion of greed - what therefore I will do, after the Epiphany, I will declare to your Charity in the will of the Lord; and how I will settle the dispute between the two brothers, sons of the presbyter Januarius, I will not keep silent from you. I have spoken much, forgive the loquacity of old age, but [the] timorous infirmity. I, as you see, have now grown old through age; through bodily infirmity I have long been aged. Yet if it pleases God what I have said just now, He gives strength, I will not forsake you. Pray for me, that as much as there remains soul in this body, and whatever strength is present, I may serve you in the word of God.