Adversus eos qui castigationes aegre ferunt

Of the Same Author, To Those Who Are Grieved by Reprimands. Truly divine and sacred is the Word of God, an exceptional possession, not accruing from elsewhere, but blended with nature, the most precious gift to man from the Creator, having come into him. For this reason, man is said to have been made in the likeness of God. By this, indeed, he differs from the other animals, and is distinctively characterized by this godlike advantage, while in other respects he has much in common with the beasts. For the form of the eyes, the shaping of the flesh, both on the surface and hidden in the belly, do not ennoble man, since participation in these is seen in land animals, aquatic creatures, birds, and in all animals simply. But this makes him ruler of all and shows him to be blessed; which God, possessing abundantly, has granted to us sparingly, so that we may first look to Him and recognize the giver of the Word as Word, and worship Him who has so well adorned us with His own grace. Through words we prevail over the strong, though weak in body, and we subdue all things, and command them to serve our needs. Thus we tame bulls and bring them under the yoke, and prepare them to cut the earth with plows; and we have the swift horse obedient by choking it with the bit; and we make the slow donkey swifter by goading it with clubs; and we force hard mules to draw wagons and carry burdens; and we skillfully manage the sprawling bulk of elephants and the size of camels according to our will.

From this we also traverse the depth, and with a small piece of wood through the art of navigation we travel over the ineffable expanses of the seas, and having no landmarks for that journey, when we hide the land, we are safely guided by the signs in the sky, and a star guides the sailor as it did the Magi. The shapes and configurations of the sky have been discovered, and the multitude of stars, and how each one is in size and distance, and the marking of the moon, and what the sun suffers at certain times when its ray is hidden. Already we even philosophize about the earth moving, how, when loosened from its natural foundations, it itself is shaken and disturbs its inhabitants along with what lies upon them. With observed signs we also observe droughts and predict rains, and applying reason to things that grow from the earth, we examine the natures of plants, and declare one salutary for the wounded, another suitable for sleep for the one who does not sleep, another curative for the liver, and another that calms the swellings of the spleen. I pass over the sciences, I leave aside the necessary arts, the whole varied cycle of pursuits for sustenance. But such an animal—wise, practical, active, mindful, being here and seeing elsewhere—because it is drawn away by various pleasures and different passions, is careless of one thing: of true life and its own salvation. And you who foresee the turnings of the air, do you not see the resurrection? You who know the changes of the years, do you not see the change of life?

You who demand an accounting from your own slave for what he does, you despise your judge and the Lord of authority. These things are not characteristic of a rational being, but rather pervert reason into folly. You do not practice justice, you do not learn virtue, you neglect prayer. And yesterday’s day made this clear. With what eyes do you look upon the Lord’s Day, you who have dishonored the Sabbath? Or do you not know that these days are sisters? If you insult one, do you not offend the other? Having mind and reason, you do not foresee what is fitting and beneficial, nor do you properly attend to the care of your own immortality, nor do you consider your own nature—who you are and what you can become—but you betray the gift of God and benefactor to your belly, to lusts, to idleness, and to sleep, so that it becomes useless, unprofitable, and vain for you. This is most shameful, characteristic of a childish mind, and worthy of grievous accusation. It would be a lesser evil if, not understanding what is beneficial from within and by ourselves, we were at least persuaded when another proposes what is useful. But this is not the case; rather, we are greatly vexed with our teachers, we bear their admonition with difficulty, and we are burdened by their advice. We feel nausea toward the education of good things, like those with a sickly appetite toward the dishes offered to them by physicians. And if a rebuke occurs, we become angry; if we hear a harsher word, we are indignant; if the doors of the church are closed to us by excommunication, we blaspheme. This is not the way of learners, nor the obedience of disciples, but the contentiousness of rebels and fighters.

The student ought to hold the rank of a child, one who desires a craft or a branch of knowledge from among external disciplines; but one who practices piety ought to be an infant with even greater addition, since the Lord also honored that age as obedient to the praises from himself. The child, then, does not step over the characters and lines which the teacher impresses upon the wax; nor does it innovate letters, acting with reckless authority to make novelties about the letters; but first it exercises its hand with the stylus on the teacher’s patterns; it does not call the letters by other names, but by those it heard; and in every way, in word and deed, it imitates the teacher’s tradition. If it should be lazy and be beaten with the leather strap, it does not grow bold against the blow, nor does it tear up the tablets and leave the teacher; but after shedding a bitter tear for a little while over the pain, it clings to its lessons and becomes more intense in its study, not more negligent. At another time, having been careless as a child, it is ordered to remain without food, and is condemned to hunger for its laziness. It stays in the schoolroom even alone, when the other children have withdrawn for lunch, keeping the command with great reverence. The Christian, however, does not act thus—the one who has heard, “Unless you turn and become as children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven”—but when he sees the priest correcting the fault more sternly in bearing and voice, he openly contradicts, mutters under his breath, and going about the marketplace and the streets, he reviles.

And if he is shut out from the church, he despises the prayer, cutting himself off from the people and the mysteries without pretense; or perhaps, even without being subjected to this punishment, he withdraws himself from the church because of his anger toward the bishop, and turns away from God and the Lord. One must say to such a person what was said to Paul when he was still Saul: "It is hard for you, man, to kick against the goads." Whether you have left God of your own accord, consider that one who separates himself from the sun lives his life in darkness and gloom; or if you have been cast out from the prayers as unworthy, recall your former state through repentance. Nothing false is written in the Gospels, nor does any prophecy of Christ have a mistaken outcome. Through Peter he gave to the bishops the key to the heavenly honors: know that if you are loosed, you are loosed, and if you are bound, you are bound fast with invisible bonds. If you had eyes for the substance of the soul, I would show you the form of a condemned man in the one who is excommunicated, his neck pressed by the heaviest chains, having no limb free or unconstrained. And would that the punishment were confined to this life! But now, if something human happens, and death suddenly appears like a thief in the night, know that the gates there are closed to you. They are diligent and not to be trifled with.

The gatekeepers of the kingdom see the soul bearing the signs of excommunication. As one accused by his hair and filth from the prison, they drive it away from the path that leads to the good; they will not allow it to see the ranks of the righteous and angelic joy. Then the wretched soul, reproaching itself much for its folly, wailing and lamenting and groaning, will continue cast into some gloomy place, like a corner, paying out endless and inconsolable lamentation for eternity. "Do not become," he says, "like a horse or a mule, which have no understanding; you will constrict their jaws with a muzzle and a bridle." The psalmist says this, softening the hard-hearted, and like oil, mollifying with exhortations. Therefore bend your neck, yield to the commands as to a yoke; the hard is broken, the yielding and bending is set straight; and experience with plants teaches you this. Do not, biting the bridle, rush toward the precipice or the abyss, but, having your neck turned by the hand of the rider, be directed onto the saving path. When you receive a censure, say from a reverent soul the Davidic, "It is good for me that you humbled me, so that I might learn your ordinances." Do not think that excommunication is a matter of episcopal arrogance; the law is paternal, an ancient canon of the Church beginning from the law and confirmed in grace. Consider Saint Paul sending out by letters the decisions of excommunication against those who are responsible, and healing the Corinthian youth with such a remedy, the one who was satanically mad for his stepmother.

For the Lord disciplines whom he loves, and he scourges the son whom he accepts." For the roots of discipline are not sweet, but bitter; yet later they put forth fruit sweeter than honeycombs. And for this reason, the one being trained needs to labor, and the one training needs both a blow and harshness. And in the Mosaic law, the four tens of legal stripes remain to this day, but not in the evangelical life—since for all there is reason, and mercy, and a rod, and exhortation, and a blow. For we do not strike you as a slave, but we discipline you as a free man; for your lineage is from Sarah the free woman, not from Hagar the slave. We respect you as a son of the free woman; we do not dishonor you as an offspring of the maidservant. For this reason, we grieve you with the reproaches befitting a free person when you err, not lacerating the body, but vexing the soul. But if we were to spare even this, how would we discipline you? The didactic word is difficult to handle, and the training of virtue is complex, and it seeks a varied economy of oversight, adapting itself to the characters of those under instruction. Is there someone obedient and easily guided in judgment? For him, the gentle and soft word is fitting. Another is harsh and intractable? He needs whips. What, then, shall we do, since we do not employ rods? Shall we leave him without care? Not so. But we will reshape the same word into another form suitable to the need at hand; and just as dishes, with a small addition of seasonings, change into opposite qualities, turning from astringent to sweet, and from sweet to astringent—

Thus also our discourse is transformed by the addition of figures for various needs, so that the nourishing element for each may be conceived. Do not, therefore, speak ill of me in corners, harshly naming the teaching office, nor make those who share in the sins partners in the reproaches against me, sitting to judge a bishop with the council of vanity. But I will not be disturbed in my soul, suffering anything new, if the harsher of my disciples are vexed. For this is a human passion, attendant upon life from beginning to end: the ruler is burdensome to the ruled in every respect, and to the polluted and lawless he is worthy of hatred. For he grieves by hindering sin; and this, along with external matters, the ecclesiastical history sufficiently teaches me. Who is a better shepherd than Moses? Who is a ruler so harmonious and gentle, becoming everything to the people—nourisher, general, priest, father himself, saving them in wars, supplying good things unsown and unplowed in the desert, judging harmoniously, guiding unerringly? Yet even he was rebelled against as unjust, insulted as harmful, murmured against as if he were a thief and embezzler, blasphemed as an ignorant general and a bad protector, and he was in danger of being driven even from the priesthood itself, when Dathan and Abiron and the sons of Kore, having broken off a seditious faction of the people with them, profane priests of the holy things contended to be, and handled the censers, and as yet not touching the holy things, and kindled the mystic fire, which before the incense consumed those who were censing.

And so offensive is the leadership of a people and the teaching profession that even the brothers of Moses did not spare him: but Miriam spoke ill of him, and Aaron reviled him, and the burdensomeness of authority provoked their natural goodwill and stirred up even his closest kin against the much-enduring man. But nothing came of this: for he was Moses, and he became no worse than himself; while they, for their offenses against the leader, were both required by God to pay the penalty and did pay it. What of those after him? Was not Isaiah, teaching piety, sawn in two? Was not Jeremiah, denouncing idolatry, pelted with stones, and did not pits and the punishments of stoners succeed him? Was not Zechariah attacked and killed between the temple and the altar? Our Lord himself—was he not, the shepherd, slaughtered for the sheep? Was he not, hated for those he taught, crucified? What cut off Paul’s head? What raised Peter onto the cross? What handed over each of the disciples to various tortures? Was it not the prevention of sin and the teaching of righteousness? For the friends and teachers of truth are always enemies of those disciples who are reproved. But we have not yet been beaten for the truth, nor have we yet risked our flesh. And what great thing is it if we are murmured against, we who are servants of the crucified one? As a father or mother, I receive your harshness and outbursts.