Беседа 15

About the life and morals of his clergy (1) 1. What I intend to tell you now is exactly what I asked you for yesterday, so that you would gather in larger numbers today. We live here with you and we live for you. Our intention and desire is that you and I can be together with Christ without end. I think that all our behavior is before your eyes, so that we also have the boldness, perhaps, to say what the apostle said, although we are far from equal to him: “imitate me, just as I imitate Christ” (1 Cor. 4:16). I don’t want anyone to find in us a reason for a bad life. “For we strive for good,” says the same apostle, “not only before the Lord, but also before men” (2 Cor. 8:21). As for us, our conscience is calm. As for you, our name should not be tarnished, but should have influence among you. Remember this and differentiate. Conscience is one thing, and hearing (fama) is another. Conscience is for you, hearing is for your neighbor. He who, relying on his conscience, does not take care of his name, is cruel (crudelic), especially when placed in such a place about which the apostle speaks in his letter to his disciple: “In everything show yourself an example of good works” (Titus 2:7). 2. However, I will not keep you on this for long, especially since I am speaking while sitting, and you are working while standing. You all know, or almost everyone, that living in this house, which is called the house of the bishop, we, as far as possible, imitate those saints about whom the book of the Acts of the Holy Apostles tells. “No one called anything of his property,” it says there, “his own, but they had everything in common” (Acts 4:32). But, taking into account that some of you may not be sufficiently informed about our life to know this as I would like you to know, I will tell you how what I briefly pointed out to you appeared (dico, quid sit, quod breviter dixi). I, whom you now see, by the grace of God, as your bishop, still a young man, came to this city, as many of you know. I was looking for a place to build a monastery for me, in which I could live together with my brothers. I abandoned all hope of this century, and what I could have been, I did not want to be. However, I was not looking for what I am now. I wanted to “better to be at the threshold of the house of God than to live in the tents of wickedness” (Ps. 83:11). I separated myself from those who love the present century, but I did not equate myself with those who preside over the people. I did not want to take the highest place at the table of my Lord, but wanted to be in the lowest, last place. But it pleased Him to say to me: “Go up.” I was so afraid of the episcopate that, since for some time rumors about me began to spread among the servants of God, I tried not to go where I knew that there was no bishop. I was afraid of this and, as far as I could, I took measures to better save myself in a low place, and not be exposed to danger in a high place. But, as I said, a slave should not resist his Lord. I came to this city in order to see a friend whom I wanted to acquire for the Lord so that he would live with us in the monastery, I came calm, because there was a bishop here. But being captured (apprehenus), I unexpectedly became a presbyter and then achieved the rank of bishop. I didn't bring anything here with me. I came to this church only with the clothes that I was wearing then. And since I had already decided to live with the brethren in the monastery, Elder Valery of blessed memory gave me the garden in which the monastery is now built. I began to gather to myself well-disposed brothers (boni propositi fratres), identical with me, having nothing, just as I had nothing, and imitating me, so that, just as I sold my small property and gave it to the poor, those who decided to live with me would do the same, in order to enjoy everything in common and so that the only great and most abundant wealth for us would be God Himself. I reached the rank of bishop. And then I saw that the bishop needed to show constant hospitality to everyone who came and passed by, which if the bishop had not done, he would have been known as unmerciful (inhumanus). And it would be indecent if this custom did not exist in the monastery, it would be indecent. That is why I wished to have with me in this house an episcopal hostel (monasterium) for clergy. This is how we live. No one in our society is allowed to have anything of their own. True, maybe some have. However, no one is allowed. If anyone has, he acts contrary to permission. I trust in my brothers and, always having good trust in them, did not allow myself to conduct a search; even asking, in my opinion, would mean thinking badly about them. I knew and know that everyone who lives with me knows the law of our life. 3. Presbyter Januarius also came to us, who, apparently, spent all his property by giving it away, but in reality did not do this. He had some property left, namely silver, which, according to him, belonged to his daughter. His daughter, by the grace of God, remains in a convent and shows good hopes (et bonae spei est). May the Lord guide her so that she will justify the hopes that we place on her, according to the mercy of God, and not according to her merits. And since she was still underage and could not give any use to her money (although we saw the feat of her service, however, we were afraid of the passions of age), it was done so that the silver was preserved as if for the maiden, so that, upon reaching her legal age, she would deal with it as befits the virgin of Christ, as she would find best. While they were waiting for this, he (Januarius) began to approach death and, swearing that the silver was his, made a will as about his property. The will, I say, was made by the presbyter and our accomplice, who is with us, living from the church, who recognized communion in property (communem vitam profitens), made a will, and appointed heirs. What a shame for this society! O fruit not born from the tree which the Lord planted! “But he bequeathed it to the church?!” - someone will say. However, I do not want such gifts, I do not like the fruit of bitterness. I looked for him for God, he recognized our union, said that he would keep it, cherish it, that he had nothing and would not make a will. Could he have anything? Didn't he consider himself an ally, as if he were God's beggar? This brings me great sorrow, brothers. I tell your love that as a result of such grief, I decided not to accept the inheritance left to the church. Let his children have what he left behind. Let them make of it what they want. It seems to me that if I accept this property, I will become a participant in a business that I do not like and about which I grieve. I didn’t want to hide this from your love. His daughter lives in a nunnery, and his son lives in a men’s monastery. He disinherited both: the one with praise, and the other with censure. I petitioned the church not to give them (the children of Januarius) the property left behind until they reached legal age. The Church agreed with this. Then he started a lawsuit between the children, the analysis of which causes me a lot of work (in qua laboro). The girl says: “This is mine; You know that’s what my father always said.” The son declares: “Let them believe my father, because when he died, he could not lie.” And what evil does this dispute alone represent? But if those children are worthy of the name of servants of God, we will soon end this dispute between them. I will listen to them like a father, and maybe even better than their father. I will find out, if the Lord wills, where the truth is, with the assistance of a few believing brothers from our midst, from among this people, who, by the grace of God, are respected, I will listen to their case and, as the Lord wills, I will finish. 4. However, I ask you, let no one reproach me for the fact that I do not want the church to accept his (Januarius) inheritance, first of all because I do not approve of his act, and then because this is my charter. Many praise me for what I say (dicturus sum), while others blame me. It is very difficult to please both. You just heard, when the Gospel was read, the following words: “We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance; We sang sad songs to you, and you did not cry. For John came neither eating nor drinking; and they say: he has a demon. The Son of Man came, eating and drinking; and they say, “Here is a man who loves to eat and drink wine, a friend of publicans” (Matthew 11:17-19). What should I do for those who are ready to reproach me and become angry if I accept the property of people who, in anger, disinherit their children? And again, what should I do with those for whom I play the flute, and they do not want to dance? Who say: “That is why no one gives anything for the Church of Ipponia, that is why those who die do not leave an inheritance to it - because Bishop Augustine, out of kindness (praising, they wound, caressing with lips, sharpening their teeth) gives everything to his own, accepts nothing.” But I accept, I accept good offerings, holy offerings. If someone is angry with his son and, dying, deprives him of his inheritance, shouldn’t I, if he were alive, have to reconcile and bring him closer to his son again? How could I do this if I wanted to receive his inheritance? However, if he does what I often advise, namely: if, having one son, he considers Christ to be the other; if there are two, he considers Christ to be the third; if, having ten sons, he recognizes Christ as the eleventh, then I accept. So, as I did in some cases, they now refer to my kindness, my gentleness, in order, on the other hand, to reproach me for not wanting to accept the offerings of pious people. But let them think about how much I took. Why else list this? I will point out at least one thing: I accepted the inheritance of a certain Julian’s son. Why? Because he died childless. 5. I did not want to accept Boniface’s inheritance, but not out of kindness, but out of fear. I did not want the church to be like a shipowner seeking profit. There are many who would like to acquire property even from shipping. However, there would be one danger if, for example, a ship was sailing and crashed. Will we continue to subject people to torment, torturing them about the reasons for the sinking of the ship, and is it really necessary to subject those who escaped the waves to judicial interrogation? But we wouldn't do that. Under no circumstances is it proper for the church to do this. Should she really take on more financial obligations (onus ergo fiscale persolveret)? But where would she pay the money? It is not permissible for us to strive to acquire treasures (Enthecam nobis habere non licet). It is not typical for a bishop to keep gold and turn away the hand of a beggar. Every day there are so many who ask, so many who sigh, so many helpless people around us, that we leave many without satisfaction, because we do not have enough to satisfy everyone, we do not have a treasury (enthecam). So, due to the danger of shipwreck, wanting precisely to avoid it, I did this, and not because of my kindness. Let him praise who wants, and let him spare who does not want to praise. Why wish for much, my brothers? Whoever wants, by disinheriting his son, to make the church heir, let him look for someone else, not Augustine. And may, by the mercy of God, he never find anyone like him. How praiseworthy was the act of the blessed Bishop of Carthage Aurelius, worthy of all respect, and how did he fill the lips of all who learned about it with praise to God? Someone, having no children and not hoping to have any, gave his property to the church, keeping part of it for his own use. Then his children were born, and the bishop returned to him, beyond his expectations (nec opinanti), what he had given for the benefit of the church. The bishop might not have returned it, but by earthly right, and not by heavenly right (sed jure fori, non jure poli). 6. And let your love also know this, that I said to my brothers who are with me, that if anyone has anything, let him sell it and give it away or donate it for common use. He has a church through which the Lord feeds us. I gave a respite only until the day of Epiphany (usque ad Epiphaniam) to those who either had not yet divided their estates with their brothers, or left what they had with their brothers, or did not do anything at all because they had not reached the legal age. Let them do as they want. In the meantime, let the poor remain with me, trusting in God’s mercy. If someone doesn’t want to, maybe there are some, but I previously decided, as you know, not to accept anyone into the clergy unless someone wants to live with me, so that if anyone wanted to deviate from his vow, then I would deprive him of the title of cleric (clericatum) for the fact that he betrayed what was promised and already begun by participation in the holy union; now, if anyone does not want this, then here I am, before the face of God and yours, changing the decision: whoever wants to have something of their own, for whom God and the church are not enough, let them stay where they want and where they can, I do not deprive them of the title of cleric. I don't want to have hypocrites. Who doesn't know that this is bad? It is bad to betray your vow, but it is even worse to keep your vow feignedly. So I declare, listen: whoever leaves the already begun union of a common life, which is praised in the book of the Acts of the Holy Apostles, betrays his vow, betrays his holy service. But let him have God as his judge, not me. I will not deprive him of the title of cleric. I have already pointed out to you how great the danger is from this. Let him do what he wants. I also know that if I wanted to demote someone who does this, he will not lack patrons, there will be no lack of supporters both here and among the bishops who will say: “What bad has he done? He cannot endure this life with you, he wants to remain outside the bishopric, to live on his own property, is this really why he should lose his title?” I know what evil it is to recognize something as holy and not fulfill it. “Do,” says the Scripture, “and pay vows to the Lord your God” (Ps. 75:12); and again: “It is better for you not to promise, than to promise and not keep” (Eccl. 5:4). A virgin, even if she has never been in a monastery, is holy, and it is not permissible for her to get married, even if she is not forced to spend her life in a monastery. If she wanted to live in the monastery and then left it, then, although she remains a virgin, she has already half fallen. So the cleric devoted himself to two goals: holiness and service in the clergy, but more than holiness. After all, for the sake of His people, God entrusted him with a ministry (in the clergy), which is more of a burden than an honor. But "he who is wise... and will he understand” this (Ps. 106:43)? So, he condemned himself to holiness, condemned himself to participation in a common life, recognized “how good and how pleasant it is for brothers to live together” (Ps. 133:1). And if he betrayed this vow, then, although living outside (the bishopric), he remains a cleric; however, he is half fallen. What do I care about that (Quid ad me)? I don't judge him. If he, living outside, lives holy, he only falls halfway. If, while living here (i.e. in the monastery), he becomes a hypocrite, then he will completely fall (totus cecidit). I don't want him to have to pretend. I know how much people value serving in the clergy, and I do not deprive anyone of this title, even if someone does not want to live with me. He has God who would like to stay with me. And if he is ready to receive food from God through His Church, if he is able to not have property, having distributed property to the poor or donated it for public use, let him live with me. Whoever does not want this, let him be free, but let him also think about whether he will be able to receive the bliss of eternity. 7. But this is enough for your love. What I do with my brothers, I will tell you. I have good hopes. They all willingly obey me. And I don’t think that any of them had anything, except for the sake of some pious need, but not at all as a result of low passion. So, what I will do after Epiphany, I will tell your love, if it is God’s will. And when I finish the dispute between the children of Presbyter Januarius, I will not hide it from you. I've already told you enough. Show mercy to garrulous old age and timid infirmity. As you can see, I am already old in age, but in body, due to its weakness, I have long been an old man. However, if God pleases what I have now said, may He strengthen my strength and I will leave you. Pray for me, so that as long as there is a soul in this body and as long as I have enough strength, I can serve you with the word of God. You might be interested in: