Augustine in His Own Words (continued)
The Bishop 83 me: "Move up higher" (Lk 14:10). So much did I fear the office of bishop that, since I had begun already to get a certain weighty reputation among the servants of God, I would not go near any spot where I knew there was no bishop. I kept up my guard against this. I did whatever I could to find salvation in a humble position rather than in the risky hazards of a high one. But, as I said, a slave ought not to contradict the Lord. I came to this city in order to see a friend, whom I was thinking I could gain for God, that he might come to be with us in the monastery. It seemed as though it were safe, because the place had a bishop. I was grabbed and made a presbyter. And from that rank, I came to the office of bishop.
I brought nothing with me. I came to this church only with the clothes I happened to be wearing. And because I was working on setting up a monastery with the brethren, old Valerius of blessed memory, learning of what I wanted and planned, gave me this garden where the monastery is now. I began to bring together good brothers, my partners in poverty, having nothing just as I had nothing, and imitating me. In the same way that I sold my poor little piece of land and handed out the proceeds to the poor, so did those who wished to live with me, that we might live from what was held in common. The great and highly productive estate we held in common was God Himself.11
Leave of Absence
No sooner had Augustine been ordained than he begged for a leave of absence. Why? To study Scripture. He had been baptized only four years earlier, and there was, as yet, nothing like a seminary or divinity school for the training of clergy. Everything was learned on the job. In requesting a leave, Augustine offers perspectives on how he had once viewed clergy and how he viewed them now. He suggests that his ordination was God's just revenge for his earlier outspoken critiques. From Letter 21:
(1) First of all, I beg your religious Prudence to consider that there is nothing in this life, and especially at this time, easier or more agreeable or more acceptable to people than the office of bishop or presbyter or deacon, if it is performed carelessly or in a manner to win flattery; but in God's sight there is nothing more wretched, more melancholy, or more worthy of punishment. On the other hand, there is nothing in this life more difficult, more laborious, or more dangerous than the office of bishop or presbyter or deacon, but noth-
11. S. 355.2 (PL 39:1569–70); my trans. Note the citation of Acts 4, a hallmark of Augustinian monastic spirituality. See below for excerpts from Augustine's monastic rule.
ing more blessed in the sight of God, if he carries on the campaign in the way prescribed by our Commander. Neither in childhood nor in youth did I learn what that way was, but just as I was beginning to learn, I was constrained as a punishment for my sins—I can think of no other reason—to accept the post next to the helmsman before I had even learned to handle an oar.
(2) I think my Lord wanted to correct me because, without adequate virtue and experience, I had dared to reprimand what was there being done before I had experienced the misdeeds of many sailors. But after I had been plunged into the midst of things, I began to realize the rashness of my reprimands— although even then I had considered it a most dangerous duty. That was the cause of those tears that some of the brethren noticed me shedding when I was newly ordained; and knowing the cause of my grief, they tried to comfort me, with good intentions, no doubt, but with words that left my inner wound untouched. I have since learned much, very much, more than I expected, not because I have seen any new waves or storms which I had not previously seen or heard or read or thought of, but because I had not known the extent of my skill and strength in avoiding or overcoming them, thinking I was of some use. Then the Lord laughed at me and willed to show me myself in action.
(3) If He did this, not as a punishment, but out of mercy—which I earnestly hope, now that I know my weakness—then I ought to study all His remedies in the Scriptures and, by praying and reading, so act such that strength sufficient for such perilous duties may be granted to my soul. I did not do this before, because I did not have time, but as soon as I was ordained, I planned to use all my leisure time in studying the Sacred Scriptures, and I tried to arrange to have leisure for this duty. Truly, I did not know what I needed for such a task, but now I am tormented and weighed down by it. If I have learned by experience what someone who administers the Sacrament and the Word of God to people needs—and I do not lay claim to what I do not possess— do you, Father Valerius, give me a command which will be my destruction? Where is your charity? Do you truly love me? Do you truly love the Church itself, what you wish me to minister to? I am sure you love both the Church and me, but you consider me fit, while I know myself better. And I should not have known myself if I had not learned by experience.
(4) Perhaps your Holiness may say: "I should like to know what is lacking in your training." So much is lacking that I could more easily tell what I lack than what I have. I venture to say that I know and hold with firm faith all that is necessary for my own salvation. But how am I to make use of this for the salvation of others? "Not seeking that which is profitable to myself, but to the many, that they may be saved" (1 Cor 10:33). Perhaps there are—I should say there undoubtedly are—some instructions in the Sacred Books which