Letter 1025: Gregory, to John of Constantinople, Eulogius of Alexandria, Gregory of Antioch, John of Jerusalem, and Anastasias, Ex-Patriarch of Antioch. A paribus. When I consider how, unworthy as I am, and resisting with my whole soul, I have been compelled to bear the burden of pastoral care, a darkness of sorrow comes over me, and my sad heart sees nothin...
Pope Gregory the Great→John of Jerusalem|c. 590 AD|gregory great
Church council; Travel & mobility; Military conflict
Book I, Letter 25
To John, Bishop of Constantinople, and the Other Patriarchs [the five senior bishops of the Christian world].
Gregory to John of Constantinople, Eulogius of Alexandria, Gregory of Antioch, John of Jerusalem, and Anastasius, ex-Patriarch of Antioch. An identical letter to each.
When I reflect on how I was pressed into this role — against my will, resisting it with everything I had — a shadow falls over me and I can barely see my way forward. What is a bishop supposed to be? Someone who intercedes for the sins of his people. With what confidence can I stand before God and plead for others when I'm not even sure of my own standing with Him?
Think about it in ordinary human terms: if someone asked me to approach a powerful man I had no real relationship with, I'd have to say, "I can't intercede for you — I don't know him." And I'd be right to hesitate. So how much more audacious am I to set myself up as an intercessor for a whole people before God, whose friendship I can't claim through any merit of my own?
There's something worse still: when someone out of favor tries to intercede with an angry person, it often makes things worse. I genuinely fear that because my own failures are now added to those of my people, the patience God has so far shown them may run out.
But when I push that fear down and turn my mind to the pastoral work itself, the sheer scale of what the role demands stops me cold. Consider what a bishop is supposed to be: pure in thought, exemplary in action, knowing when to speak and when to stay silent, genuinely close to everyone in compassion, yet also lifted above everyone in contemplation — humble among those who are living well, but utterly unbending toward serious wrongdoing. When I try to examine these requirements one by one, I feel the weight of every single one.
[Gregory here summarizes passages from his own Pastoral Rule on the duties of a bishop — covering the need for purity of thought, leadership by example, wisdom about when to speak and when to stay silent, and the delicate balance between compassion and authority.]
There's a trap I keep coming back to: vices disguise themselves as virtues. Stinginess looks like thrift. Extravagance looks like generosity. Cruelty looks like righteous zeal. Weakness looks like kindness. Without both discipline and mercy — each tempering the other — a bishop fails. Discipline without mercy becomes harshness. Mercy without discipline becomes negligence.
And here's the particular problem with my situation: in this city, whoever is called "Pastor" is so buried in external business that it's often impossible to tell whether he's functioning as a shepherd or as a secular official. No one in this role can escape worldly obligations entirely — but someone has to be careful not to be crushed by them. I can't seem to find that balance.
So, most holy brothers, I am asking you — by the Judge who is to come, by the assembly of the angels, by the Church of the firstborn whose names are written in heaven — hold me up with your prayers as I stagger under this. Before it breaks me.
As Scripture says, "Pray for one another, that you may be healed" (James 5:16). I offer the same in return. When we support each other through prayer, we hold hands as we walk across ice. Through this gift of mutual charity, each of us stands firmer because we lean on each other.
And since "with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation" — let me state my faith plainly. I receive and venerate the four great Councils exactly as I do the four Gospels:
The Council of Nicaea [325 AD], which overthrew the teaching of Arius [who denied that Christ is fully God].
The Council of Constantinople [381 AD], which refuted the errors of Eunomius and Macedonius [who denied the full divinity of the Holy Spirit].
The First Council of Ephesus [431 AD], which condemned Nestorius [who effectively divided Christ into two separate persons, one human and one divine].
The Council of Chalcedon [451 AD], which rejected Eutyches and Dioscorus [who blended Christ's divine and human natures into one and denied the reality of his humanity].
These four Councils are the four-cornered foundation of Christian faith. Anyone who doesn't stand on them is building outside the structure, regardless of how admirable their life may otherwise be.
I equally honor the Fifth Council [553 AD], which rejected a letter falsely attributed to Ibas, convicted Theodorus of splitting the one Mediator between God and man into two persons, and refuted the writings of Theodoritus against the blessed Cyril as the theological recklessness they were.
Those whom these Councils condemn, I condemn. Those whom they honor, I honor. They were established by universal consent of the Church: whoever tries to release what they have bound, or bind what they have released, is not overturning the Councils — he's overturning himself. And whoever holds the faith of these Councils — peace to him from God the Father, through Jesus Christ His Son, who lives and reigns as God, consubstantial with the Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, forever and ever. Amen.
Book I, Letter 25
To John, Bishop of Constantinople, and the Other Patriarchs.
Gregory, to John of Constantinople, Eulogius of Alexandria, Gregory of Antioch, John of Jerusalem, and Anastasias, Ex-Patriarch of Antioch. A paribus.
When I consider how, unworthy as I am, and resisting with my whole soul, I have been compelled to bear the burden of pastoral care, a darkness of sorrow comes over me, and my sad heart sees nothing else but the shadows which allow nothing to be seen. For to what end is a bishop chosen of the Lord but to be an intercessor for the offenses of the people? With what confidence, then, can I come as an intercessor for the sins of others to Him before Whom I am not secure about my own? If perchance any one should ask me to become his intercessor with a great man who was incensed against him, and to myself unknown, I should at once reply, I cannot go to intercede for you, having no knowledge of that man from familiar acquaintance with him. If then, as man with man, I should properly blush to become an intercessor with one on whom I had no claim, how great is the audacity of my obtaining the place of intercessor for the people with God, whose friendship I am not assured of through the merit of my life! And in this matter I find a still more serious cause of alarm, since we all know well that, when one who is in disfavour is sent to intercede with an incensed person, the mind of the latter is provoked to still greater severity. And I am greatly afraid lest the community of believers, whose offenses the Lord has so far indulgently borne with, should perish through the addition of my guilt to theirs. But, when in one way or another I suppress this fear, and with mind consoled give myself to the care of my pontifical office, I am deterred by consideration of the immensity of this very task.
For indeed I consider with myself what watchful care is needed that a ruler may be pure in thought, chief in action, discreet in keeping silence, profitable in speech, a near neighbour to every one in sympathy, exalted above all in contemplation, a companion of good livers through humility, unbending against the vices of evil-doers through zeal for righteousness. All which things when I try to search out with subtle investigation, the very wideness of the consideration cramps me in the particulars. For, as I have already said, there is need of the greatest care that the ruler be pure in thought, etc. [A long passage, thus beginning, and ending with beyond the limit of order, is found also in Regula Pastoralis, Pt. II. ch. 2, which see.]
Again, when I betake myself to consider the works required of the pastor, I weigh within myself what intent care is to be taken that he be chief in action, to the end that by his living, he may point out the way of life to them that are put under him, etc. [See Reg. Past., Pt. II. ch. 3, to the end.]
Again, when I betake myself to consider the duty of the pastor as to speech and silence, I weigh within myself with trembling care how very necessary it is that he should be discreet in keeping silence and profitable in speech, lest he either utter what ought to be suppressed or suppress what ought to be uttered, etc. [See Reg. Past., III., 4, down to keep the unity of the faith.]
Again, when I betake myself to consider what manner of man the ruler ought to be in sympathy, and what in contemplation, I weigh within myself that he should be a near neighbour to every one in sympathy, and exalted above all in contemplation, to the end that through the bowels of loving-kindness, etc. [See Reg. Past, Pt. II. ch. 5, to the end.]
Again, when I betake myself to consider what manner of man the ruler ought to be in humility, and what in strictness, I weigh within myself how necessary it is that he should be, through humility, a companion to good livers, and, through the zeal of righteousness rigid against the vices of evil-doers etc. [See Regula Pastoralis, Pt. II. ch. 6, down to towards the perverse; there being only a slight variation, not affecting the sense, in the wording of the concluding clause.] For hence it is that Peter who had received from God, etc. [See Reg. Past., Pt. II. ch. 6, down to dominates over vices rather than over his brethren.] He orders well the authority he has received who has learned both to maintain it and to keep it in check. He orders it well who knows how both through it to tower above sins, and with it to set himself on an equality with other men.
Moreover, the virtue of humility ought to be so maintained that the rights of government be not relaxed; lest, when any prelate has lowered himself more than is becoming, he be unable to restrain the life of his subordinates under the bond of discipline; and the severity of discipline is to be so maintained that gentleness be not wholly lost through the over-kindling of zeal. For often vices show themselves off as virtues, so that niggardliness would fain appear as frugality, extravagance as liberality, cruelty as righteous zeal, laxity as loving-kindness. Wherefore both discipline and mercy are far from what they should be, if one be maintained without the other. But there ought to be kept up with great skill of discernment both mercy justly considerate, and discipline smiting kindly. For hence it is that, as the Truth teaches Luke 10:34, the man is brought by the care of the Samaritan, etc. [See Reg. Past., Pt. II. ch. 6, down to manna of sweetness.]
Thus, having undertaken the burden of pastoral care, when I consider all these things and many others of like kind, I seem to be what I cannot be, especially as in this place whosoever is called a Pastor is onerously occupied by external cares; so that it often becomes uncertain whether he exercises the function of a pastor or of an earthly noble. And indeed whosoever is set over his brethren to rule them cannot be entirely free from external cares; and yet there is need of exceeding care lest he be pressed down by them too much. Whence it is rightly said to Ezekiel, The priests shall not shave their heads, etc. [See Reg. Past., Pt. II., ch. 7, to the end.]
But in this place I see that no such discreet management is possible, since cases of such importance hang over me daily as to overwhelm the mind, while they kill the bodily life. Wherefore, most holy brother, I beseech you by the Judge who is to come, by the assembly of many thousand angels, by the Church of the firstborn who are written in heaven, help me, who am growing weary under this burden of pastoral care, with the intercession of your prayer, lest its weight oppress me beyond my strength. But, being mindful of what is written, Pray for one another, that you may be healed James 5:16, I give also what I ask for. But I shall receive what I give. For, while we are joined to you through the aid of prayer, we hold as it were each other by the hand while walking through slippery places, and it comes to pass, through a great provision of charity, that the foot of each is the more firmly planted in that one leans upon the other.
Besides, since with the heart man believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation, I confess that I receive and revere, as the four books of the Gospel so also the four Councils: to wit, the Nicene, in which the perverse doctrine of Arius is overthrown; the Constantinopolitan also, in which the error of Eunomius and Macedonius is refuted; further, the first Ephesine, in which the impiety of Nestorius is condemned; and the Chalcedonian, in which the pravity of Eutyches and Dioscorus is reprobated. These with full devotion I embrace, and adhere to with most entire approval; since on them, as on a four-square stone, rises the structure of the holy faith; and whosoever, of whatever life and behaviour he may be, holds not fast to their solidity, even though he is seen to be a stone, yet he lies outside the building. The fifth council also I equally venerate, in which the epistle which is called that of Ibas, full of error, is reprobated; Theodorus, who divides the Mediator between God and men into two subsistences, is convicted of having fallen into the perfidy of impiety; and the writings of Theodoritus, in which the faith of the blessed Cyril is impugned, are refuted as having been published with the daring of madness. But all persons whom the aforesaid venerable Councils repudiate I repudiate; those whom they venerate I embrace; since, they having been constituted by universal consent, he overthrows not them but himself, whosoever presumes either to loose those whom they bind, or to bind those whom they loose. Whosoever, therefore, thinks otherwise, let him be anathema. But whosoever holds the faith of the aforesaid synods, peace be to him from God the Father, through Jesus Christ His Son, Who lives and reigns consubstantially God with Him in the Unity of the Holy Spirit for ever and ever. Amen.
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Source. Translated by James Barmby. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 12. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1895.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/360201025.htm>.
Contact information. The editor of New Advent is Kevin Knight. My email address is feedback732 at newadvent.org. (To help fight spam, this address might change occasionally.) Regrettably, I can't reply to every letter, but I greatly appreciate your feedback — especially notifications about typographical errors and inappropriate ads.
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Book I, Letter 25
To John, Bishop of Constantinople, and the Other Patriarchs [the five senior bishops of the Christian world].
Gregory to John of Constantinople, Eulogius of Alexandria, Gregory of Antioch, John of Jerusalem, and Anastasius, ex-Patriarch of Antioch. An identical letter to each.
When I reflect on how I was pressed into this role — against my will, resisting it with everything I had — a shadow falls over me and I can barely see my way forward. What is a bishop supposed to be? Someone who intercedes for the sins of his people. With what confidence can I stand before God and plead for others when I'm not even sure of my own standing with Him?
Think about it in ordinary human terms: if someone asked me to approach a powerful man I had no real relationship with, I'd have to say, "I can't intercede for you — I don't know him." And I'd be right to hesitate. So how much more audacious am I to set myself up as an intercessor for a whole people before God, whose friendship I can't claim through any merit of my own?
There's something worse still: when someone out of favor tries to intercede with an angry person, it often makes things worse. I genuinely fear that because my own failures are now added to those of my people, the patience God has so far shown them may run out.
But when I push that fear down and turn my mind to the pastoral work itself, the sheer scale of what the role demands stops me cold. Consider what a bishop is supposed to be: pure in thought, exemplary in action, knowing when to speak and when to stay silent, genuinely close to everyone in compassion, yet also lifted above everyone in contemplation — humble among those who are living well, but utterly unbending toward serious wrongdoing. When I try to examine these requirements one by one, I feel the weight of every single one.
[Gregory here summarizes passages from his own Pastoral Rule on the duties of a bishop — covering the need for purity of thought, leadership by example, wisdom about when to speak and when to stay silent, and the delicate balance between compassion and authority.]
There's a trap I keep coming back to: vices disguise themselves as virtues. Stinginess looks like thrift. Extravagance looks like generosity. Cruelty looks like righteous zeal. Weakness looks like kindness. Without both discipline and mercy — each tempering the other — a bishop fails. Discipline without mercy becomes harshness. Mercy without discipline becomes negligence.
And here's the particular problem with my situation: in this city, whoever is called "Pastor" is so buried in external business that it's often impossible to tell whether he's functioning as a shepherd or as a secular official. No one in this role can escape worldly obligations entirely — but someone has to be careful not to be crushed by them. I can't seem to find that balance.
So, most holy brothers, I am asking you — by the Judge who is to come, by the assembly of the angels, by the Church of the firstborn whose names are written in heaven — hold me up with your prayers as I stagger under this. Before it breaks me.
As Scripture says, "Pray for one another, that you may be healed" (James 5:16). I offer the same in return. When we support each other through prayer, we hold hands as we walk across ice. Through this gift of mutual charity, each of us stands firmer because we lean on each other.
And since "with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation" — let me state my faith plainly. I receive and venerate the four great Councils exactly as I do the four Gospels:
The Council of Nicaea [325 AD], which overthrew the teaching of Arius [who denied that Christ is fully God]. The Council of Constantinople [381 AD], which refuted the errors of Eunomius and Macedonius [who denied the full divinity of the Holy Spirit]. The First Council of Ephesus [431 AD], which condemned Nestorius [who effectively divided Christ into two separate persons, one human and one divine]. The Council of Chalcedon [451 AD], which rejected Eutyches and Dioscorus [who blended Christ's divine and human natures into one and denied the reality of his humanity].
These four Councils are the four-cornered foundation of Christian faith. Anyone who doesn't stand on them is building outside the structure, regardless of how admirable their life may otherwise be.
I equally honor the Fifth Council [553 AD], which rejected a letter falsely attributed to Ibas, convicted Theodorus of splitting the one Mediator between God and man into two persons, and refuted the writings of Theodoritus against the blessed Cyril as the theological recklessness they were.
Those whom these Councils condemn, I condemn. Those whom they honor, I honor. They were established by universal consent of the Church: whoever tries to release what they have bound, or bind what they have released, is not overturning the Councils — he's overturning himself. And whoever holds the faith of these Councils — peace to him from God the Father, through Jesus Christ His Son, who lives and reigns as God, consubstantial with the Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, forever and ever. Amen.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.