THE origins of monasticism predate Constantine’s Edict of Toleration. Nevertheless, most scholars of Christian antiquity agree that there was some connection between Constantine’s conversion to Christianity and the subsequent rapid growth of monasticism. By ending the persecutions, Constantine and his successors are thought to have invited into the Church persons with less religious ardor than that which was possessed by Christians of the preceding era. The rise of monasticism is seen as an attempt by a rigorous faction within the religion to return to the challenge that the early Christians faced. As the fifth-century author John Cassian understood it, the spread of monasticism was a revival of the purity of the ancient Church.1

    As a consequence of the widening divide between lay and monastic Christians, a distinction emerged in the patterns of spiritual direction.’2 By spiritual direction, I mean the modus operandi by which religious authorities (in both lay and monastic communities) sought to advance the spiritual condition of those under their care.3 This involved both [:]

[1] the criteria by which they selected their successors and

[2] the specific techniques that they used to achieve their pastoral goals.4

Like many things in early Christianity, there was significant variation in the approaches to spiritual direction.

    To present monastic and lay communities as distinct entities is risky. At that time, there were theological, social, and even economic interactions between the two groups. What most distinguished monks from lay Christians in late antiquity was the extent of their askesis ‒ asceticism. 5 In early Christianity, asceticism was a method of self-control developed by individuals to root out desire for those things that brought “worldly” pleasure (e.g., food, sex, wealth, and fame) _[p.2] and to redirect their energies toward the worship of God.6 As early as the New Testament, Christian authors had encouraged their readers, married and unmarried alike, to adopt ascetic disciplines (e.g., almsgiving, fasting, and the temporary cessation of sexual activity). By the fourth century, a monk’s askesis would have been different from his lay coreligionists’ in both degree and kind. A monk would be permanently chaste, theoretically poor, and likely to live apart from lay Christians, either by himself or among a group of other professed ascetics. Complicating this distinction is the fact that in the fourth century we also find the first attempts by Christian authorities to standardize and regulate the ascetic practices of lay Christians—further evidence of the close links between the monastery and the “parish.”7

    These links, however, should not keep us from examining how monastic life at this point differed from parish life, specifically in its charismatic as op-posed to institutional conceptions of both authority and spiritual direction. As we will see, there was a plethora of opinions about leadership and pastoral care. One of the more useful ways to understand the diversity of opinion and trace the evolution of the ideals is by conceptualizing along the lines of an ascetic/monastic and a lay paradigm.8

    In recent years, scholars have documented the rise of ascetics to positions of authority in the broader Church. Among other things, these studies have emphasized the emergence of an ascetic discourse that linked the qualifications for leadership to self-denial and have shown how the episcopate eventually came into the hands of former monks. In short, these studies have demonstrated that lay communities either came to adopt or were forced to accept asceticism as a legitimate qualification for authority.9

    One important aspect of the “asceticizing” of the lay Church that has been neglected by historians is the extent to which the monastic and lay communities had developed distinct conceptions of spiritual direction. The central questions of the present study derive from the encounter of these two pastoral traditions. To what extent did ascetic notions of pastoral care affect the lay Church as monastic leaders gained greater authority? Or, more bluntly, What happened when monks became bishops? Did the new clerics conform to the patterns of pastoral care that were already operating in the lay Church, or did they bring with them the traditions that they had learned in the ascetic community? And if they tried to impose new patterns of super-vision on the laity, were their pastoral initiatives met with resistance?

     _[p.3] Specifically, this book explores the careers and ideas of five influential Christian authorities: Athanasius, Gregory Nazianzen, Augustine, John Cassian, and Pope Gregory I. Each of the five spent time in an ascetic environ-ment; each was a member of the clergy; each left a literary record of his pastoral anxieties and policies; and each was well known (if not well liked) by other late ancient clerics. These are the authors who shaped the medieval pastoral traditions of the East and the West. Each of the five struggled to balance the tension between his ascetic idealism and the realities of the lay Church. Each offered different (and at times very different) solutions to that tension. The diversity in their models of spiritual direction demonstrates both the complexity of the problem and the variability of early Christianity.

[1.1.1] IT is well known that the number of monks and monasteries grew exponentially during the fourth century.10 We can contrast the intense life of professed ascetics, many of whom isolated themselves from society, with the progressively institutionalized, imperial, and less rigorous practice of married Christians who continued their various urban and rural lifestyles. To accommodate the increasingly differentiated pastoral needs of these communities, patterns of spiritual direction evolved along two distinct trajectories.

The first focusing on the lay community and directed by the clergy, emphasized doctrinal instruction, the distribution of charity, and the celebration of the sacraments.

In contrast, the second, which was developed in a monastic setting, took a more personal and interactive approach through the spiritual father/spiritual disciple relationship, typically stressing the specific activities of one’s renunciation.

[1.1.2] For simplicity, I will refer to these pastoral traditions as the clerical and the ascetic traditions. Such a characterization is not perfect. I am not suggesting that the pastoral initiatives that I associate with the clergy were employed only by ordained priests or that every cleric endorsed them. Likewise, I am not implying that every ascetic Christian (and indeed there were great variations among ascetic communities in late antiquity) understood spiritual direction to comprise the same elements. But if we carefully examine both the criteria for authority and the techniques of religious formation, we find different patterns for how spiritual direction operated in the lay and ascetic communities._[p.4]

[1.2.1] THE difference between the clerical and ascetic models is most visible in their understanding of authority and the selection of new leaders. Whether Nicene, Arian, or another sect, most people who self-identified as Christians in the fourth century would have acknowledged the authority of the clergy. The pastoral epistles that were attributed to St. Paul made provisions for the ordination of bishops and deacons, thereby establishing criteria for their election and identifying many of their responsibilities. In the letters of Ignatius of Antioch (who was martyred in Rome in the early years of the second century), we find an emphasis on the authority of the bishop. For Ignatius, the bishop who professed the apostolic faith could discern right from wrong and isolate orthodox truth from heretical teaching.11 While one recent commentator has suggested that scholars often overstate Ignatius’s advocacy of a mono-episcopacy (potentially a later development), it is certain that the bishop of Antioch expected the laity to obey the clergy.12

[1.2.2] Between the second and the fourth centuries, the theory of apostolic succession emerged to legitimize the authenticity of episcopal teaching and power. Though initially employed to marginalize unacceptable theological positions, apostolic succession cemented the notion that the orthodox clergy possessed the grace of the Holy Spirit.13 As such, the bishop who was rightly ordained was mystically endowed to serve as Christ’s agent among the faithful. By the fourth century, there was little denying that authority lay with the episcopate, but the question at that time was which episcopate (i.e., Nicene or Arian).

[1.2.3] It was the rite of ordination that served as the source of pastoral and spiritual authority in the cleric-oriented model. Writing near the close of the fourth century, St. John Chrysostom connected the authority of the priesthood to ordination. “The work of the priest is performed on earth but is recognized in heaven. And this is only proper, because no man, no angel, no archangel, no other created power, but the Holy Spirit itself arranged this succession and persuaded men to make apparent the ministry of angels, though they remained in the flesh.”14 Through the sacraments, especially baptism and the Eucharist, Chrysostom reasoned, bishops and priests conferred salvation upon the whole Christian body15 And they alone possessed the ability to bind and loose (cf. Matt. ,6:,9).16 The link between the sacraments and episcopal authority _[p.5] went back to at least the third century and probably earlier. The third-century Church order known as the Didascalia Apostolorum offers a clear connection: “[B]ut honor the bishops, who have loosed you from sins, who by the water regenerated you, who filled you with the Holy Spirit, who reared you with the word as with milk, who bred you up with doctrine, who confirmed you with admonition, and made you to partake of the holy Eucharist of God, and made you partakers and joint heirs of the promise of God.’17 By presiding over the sacraments, the clergy both functionally and symbolically asserted its leadership within the Christian community.

[1.2.4] Though most clerics agreed that ordination was the foundation of their authority, the criteria by which they selected new candidates varied considerably at times. According to 1 Timothy, a bishop “must be blameless, the husband of one wife, temperate, sober, of good behavior, hospitable, able to teach, not given to wine, not violent, not greedy for money, but gentle, not quarrelsome, not covetous; one who rules his own house well, having his children in submission.”18 When Ignatius wrote to Polycarp, he added the criterion of orthodoxy to this list of moral qualifications.19

[1.2.5] The Didascalia records a more lengthy analysis of the criteria for episcopal election. Many of its injunctions are an expansion of the moral requirements listed in 1 Timothy. But by the third century the very nature of clerical service had changed: the bishop now controlled the community’s finances and also had the ability to excommunicate those whom he deemed to be in violation of the Church’s standards.20 As Claudia Rapp notes, it is probably for this reason that the text takes such great care in establishing the moral and ascetic qualifications of the bishop.21

[1.2.6] The Didascalia requires that the bishop be able to explain every aspect of the faith to his flock, including the potentially difficult task of harmonizing the Hebrew Scriptures with the Gospels.22 He must also perceive the distinct needs of individuals and provide the appropriate pastoral instruction (whether it be doctrinal information, admonition, or consolation).23 To help ensure these qualifications, the text establishes a minimum age of fifty for episcopal election and recommends that the candidate be a man of good education (though exceptions for both requirements are anticipated).24

[1.2.7] After Constantine’s conversion, the issue of education became increasingly important for some Christian authorities. One reason was the perception that the theological debates that had emerged in the fourth century _[p.6] e.g., over Donatism and Arianism) were more dangerous than those of preceding eras. Because Christian emperors often enforced theological positions as a matter of imperial policy, bishops quickly learned that one faction could be rewarded and another punished according to the ability of each to sway the emperor to its side. Also fueling the interest in higher educational standards was a shift in the demographics of believers. It was during the fourth century that a sizable percentage of the curiales (the landowning provincial aristocracy) first entered the Church and assumed roles among the clergy.25 These men had the benefits of education and wealth. Not only did they use these gifts to their advantage, but many came to perceive them as indispensable prerequisites for pastoral leadership.

[1.2.8] Men like Gregory Nazianzen and Augustine of Hippo believed that an educated clergy could not only articulate a response to the challenge of heresy but also minister more effectively to their congregations. As we will examine in chapter 3, Augustine identified rhetorical expertise as the single most important skill possessed by a Christian leader because the priest communicated doctrinal information through public speaking.26 For him, the surest way to guarantee that the faithful would receive adequate teaching was to employ men already trained in public speaking.

[1.2.9] Though a candidate was typically not barred by humble origins, bishops in the post-Constantinian period were increasingly drawn from the nobility, particularly the curiales.27 In part, this was the natural consequence of Constantine’s conversion—he enabled other members of the Roman elite to join the religion. It could also be a result of Constantine’s establishment of the episcopal court system, which provided an alternative legal venue for Christians who feared persecution from pagan judges.28 Since every bishop was required to preside over legal cases, it became necessary to consider judicial competence as a prerequisite for episcopal election. By employing the judicial talents of the curiales, the Church utilized the resources of the Roman administrative system. However, the extent to which the curiales-turned-priest was required to abandon the privileges of his noble life was a matter of debate and varied widely.

[1.2.10] There is ample evidence of Christians trying to enforce a more rigorous asceticism on the clergy than that prescribed by 1 Timothy. This was true of both the pre- and post-Constantinian period. The Didascalia, for example, requires that the bishop “be scant and poor in his food and drink, that he _[p.7] may be able to be watchful in admonishing and correcting those who are undisciplined. And let him not be crafty and extravagant, nor luxurious, nor pleasure-loving, nor fond of dainty meats.”29

[1.2.11] Part of the anxiety about moral and ascetic purity stems from the perceived connection between the cleric’s sanctity and his ability to bind and loose sin. It took time for catholic Christians to arrive at the conclusion that the sins of the priest should not negate the effectiveness of his sacraments. In the third century, we find uneasiness regarding the connection between a bishop’s holiness and his purgative powers. The Didascalia posits that a bishop who fails to live up to the standards of the episcopate jeopardizes the entire community.30 And in his Commentary on the Gospel According to Matthew (Commentaria in Evangelium secundum Matthaeum), the great Alexandrian teacher Origen (d. ca. 254) casts doubt on the ability of a sinful cleric to offer effective spiritual leadership. Commenting on Peter’s ability to bind and loose, Origen interprets that prerogative as belonging to anyone who is a “Peter” in the eyes of God (i.e., whoever meets the standard of Peter’s faith and life).31 Accordingly, judicial authority (i.e., the ability to punish and forgive sin) is linked to the same qualifications 32As Rapp observes, Origen provides for a scenario in which there are two kinds of bishops, those according to man and those according to God. There is overlap between them, but there are also bishops who ultimately lack spiritual authority.33 The Alexandrian notes, “[A]nd if anyone who is not a Peter, and does not have the same stature as Peter, thinks that what he binds on earth will be bound in heaven, and what he looses on earth will be loosed in heaven, such a one is demented and does not understand the meaning of the Scriptures—and being demented, has fallen into the trap of the devil.”34 In short, Origen offers a tacit acknowledgment of the authority of the bishop in the Church, but he cautions that the dignity of the episcopate guarantees neither virtuous living, spiritual knowledge, nor an effective pastoral ministry. For our purposes, Origen’s critique demonstrates that there was a faction within the Church (in the era preceding Constantine) that questioned the extent to which ordination guaranteed a successful pastoral ministry.

[1.2.12] By the fourth century, the monastic communities of Egypt and elsewhere understood ascetic experience (and not ordination) to be the standard for leadership. For example, the monastic author Ammonas insisted that authority derived from ascetic progress made in isolation.35 _[p.8]

This is why the holy fathers also withdrew into the desert alone, men such as Elijah the Tishbite and John the Baptist. For do not suppose that because the righteous were in the midst of men it was among men that they achieved their righteousness. Rather having first practiced much quiet, they then received the power of God dwelling in them, and then God sent them into the midst of men, having acquired every virtue, so that they might act as God’s provisioners and cure men of their infirmities. For they were physicians of the soul, able to cure men’s infirmities.36

[1.2.13] Writing to his disciples, Ammonas hoped that they too could come to know the mysteries of the Godhead. This knowledge, however, came “only to those who had purified their hearts from every defilement and from all the vanities of the world and to those who had taken up their crosses and fortified themselves and been obedient to God in everything.”37 Consequently, only a few select leaders possessed an intimate knowledge of the divine and were therefore able to assist others.38

[1.2.14] Ammonas differentiated between those who possess spiritual authority and those who do not. What distinguished Ammonas and ascetics like him from Christians living in the world was that, for him, ordination had no part in the formula of authority. In fact, he never mentions the clergy or ordination in any of his extant letters to disciples.

[1.2.15] While ascetic experience was the most important criterion for Ammonas, like most ascetics he did not believe that it was the lone basis for spiritual leadership. Only those who had also displayed obedience and maintained a powerful prayer life were suited to lead others. Ammonas reminded his readers that he had been a disciple of St. Antony the Great. Ammonas’s own rise to the rank of spiritual father was directly related to his subordination to such a holy master.39

[1.2.16] Discernment (διάκρισις / diakrisis in Greek and discretio in Latin) was another marker of spiritual authority in the ascetic community. In many of his letters, Antony writes that he prays his disciples may receive the gift of discernment in order to understand better the difference between good and evil and thereby offer themselves more completely to God.40 He also relates that he knows of men who pursued asceticism for many years but whose lack of discernment eventually led to their spiritual demise 41Going a step further, Ammonas identifies _[p.9] discernment as the spiritual gift that separates the average monk from the elder. “Now, therefore, my beloved, since you have been counted to me as children, pray both day and night that this gift of discernment may come upon you, which has not yet come upon you since you came to the ascetic way. And I too, your father, will pray for you that you may attain this stature, to which not many of the monks have come—save a few souls here and there.”42 How does one attain discernment? For both Antony and Ammonas discernment comes as a result of ascetic progress, trial, and prayer.43 To these prerequisites, Ammonas adds isolation. “If you want to come to this measure . . . withdraw yourselves from [others] or else they will not allow you to progress.”44

[1.2.17] Within the various ascetic communities of late antiquity, discernment (or the discernment of spirits) was understood to comprise a variety of spiritual gifts.45 In early texts (e.g., Origen), it involved the ability to differentiate between good and evil spirits. With time, the gift of discernment was also believed to empower a spiritual father to learn the spiritual needs of individual disciples. I will say more about discernment in the pages that follow. For now, let us note that the possession of διάκρισις / diakrisis was another important indicator of spiritual authority for members of the ascetic community.

[1.3.1] WITHIN most ascetic communities of the late ancient period, a dynamic relationship existed between a spiritual father and his disciples 46A monk’s advisor was not always the abbot of his community, and in the fourth century he was rarely ordained.47 Both Basil of Caesarea and the Egyptian monk Pachomius, two important organizers of monastic communities, envisioned societies of lay monks that were too large for a single abbot to serve as the only spiritual counselor. They divided the responsibility of supervision among several experienced elders who worked under the watchful eye of the abbot.48 Ideally, advisor and advisee communicated regularly; the novice confessed his sins to his mentor, while the mentor encouraged, taught, and reprimanded the novice as necessary.49

[1.3.2] Although a thorough comparison is beyond the scope of the present study, the spiritual father/spiritual disciple model that became so active in the ascetic communities of late antiquity was, in many ways, informed by the traditions of teaching and the care of souls that existed in the philosophical schools of _[p.10] classical world. As Pierre Hadot has observed, the philosophical dialogue that occurred in the Socratic schools (and elsewhere) was designed as a “spiritual exercise” practiced for the improvement of the self.50 In many ways, the same was true of spiritual direction in the Christian ascetic community. Though adapted in a context very different from the philosophical school, the spiritual father of the desert tradition, like the Socratic, Platonic, or Epicurean philosopher, was principally concerned with the advancement of his disciples’ souls.

[1.3.3] Naturally, in the desert Christian communities of the late antique East much of the spiritual father’s instruction was concerned with the discipline of askesis. The Apophthegmata Patrum (a collection of sayings of the Syrian, Palestinian, and Egyptian elders, arranged alphabetically by their names) is predominantly concerned with the desert monk’s praxis. These sayings originated as an elder’s response to specific questions or circumstances. Individual monasteries or groups of monks transcribed these teachings for future generations, which eventually circulated the sayings among communities.51 As Benedicta Ward notes, the disciples did not seek a theological axiom or a dialogue with their elders. Rather, they wanted teaching that they could apply to their life and their askesis.52

[1.3.4] Beyond rudimentary instruction concerning renunciation, the spiritual father was believed to possess a kind of mystical teaching that could not be revealed to everyone or through texts. Ammonas notes in one of his letters that he hopes to visit his disciples so that he can share with them what he is unable to write. “When I come to you I will tell you about the Spirit of joy, and how you should obtain it. And I will show you all of its riches, which I cannot entrust to paper.”53 To receive this teaching, Ammonas instructs his readers to prepare themselves through askesis and prayer. To this, Ammonas will add his own prayers.54 The spiritual rewards, the elder promises, are well worth the effort. “You will become free from every fear, and heavenly joy will overtake you; and so you will be as men already translated to the kingdom while you are still in a body and you will no longer need to pray for yourselves but for others.’’55

[1.3.5] For many authors, an important component of the elder/disciple relationship was the absolute authority of the spiritual advisor. For example, Basil of Caesarea insisted that a monk abandon his own will and submit to his superior. He wrote: “[The novice] does not make the choice of what is good _[p.11] or useful, since he has irrevocably relinquished the disposal of himself to others.”56 When some of Ammonas’s disciples suggested that they might move to another place, he sternly warned them that they should do nothing without his approval, noting, “[I]f you go out, acting on your own authority, God will not work together with you.”57 Identifying the spiritual father as the oracle of God’s will in the life of the disciple, he added, “[D]o not go away until God permits you. I am aware what is God’s will for you; but it is difficult for you to recognize the will of God. Unless a man denies himself and his own will, and obeys his spiritual parents, he will not be able to recognize God’s will; and even if he does recognize it, he needs God’s help in giving him the strength to carry it out.”58 In short, subordinates were not to question the instruction of their superiors, nor were they to act of their own accord. By the beginning of the seventh century, the virtue of obedience so dominated ascetic literature that John Climacus claimed that a truly obedient monk would find salvation even if his spiritual father led him into heresy.59

[1.3.6] With the authority of leadership came duty and accountability. Antony frequently acknowledged his responsibility to pray for his disciples and to extend spiritual love to them.60 Ammonas, likewise, noted that a spiritual father was expected to pray continuously for those in his care.61 For his part, Basil warned that any spiritual father who failed to correct the vice of his disciples would pay for their sins at his own judgment.62 With this in mind, many authors warned of the difficulty associated with spiritual direction. As we will see in chapter z, Gregory Nazianzen concluded that spiritual direction was so difficult it was the “art of arts and science of sciences.”63

[1.3.7] As noted, one of the things that separated an elder from ordinary monks was the possession of discernment. For some ascetic authors such as Antony, discernment was a tool sought by a monk for his own enlightenment. In the context of spiritual direction, however, it was the key supernatural gift that enabled effective guidance. Discernment empowered the elder to recognize demons and angels and to understand the spiritual challenges of his disciples. It was believed that individual monks had specific needs.64 According to Basil, the discerning elder would offer the precise admonition and/or instruction that could lead his disciples to salvation.65 As we will see in chapter 5, Pope Gregory I believed that Benedict of Nursia could discern whenever one of his monks tried to deceive him. As a result, the saint was better prepared to offer the necessary spiritual medicine. Although a conception of discernment _[p.12] operated beyond the confines of the Christian ascetic community (e.g., it was understood differently by the Greco-Romans), in the hands of the ascetic elder it assumed an unprecedented pastoral importance.66

[1.3.8] Other pastoral techniques of the ascetic community included οἰκονομία /oikonomia (known in Latin as condescensio) , the internalization of the spiritual battle, and the use of the saintly exemplar. οἰκονομία /oikonomia refers to a spiritual father’s temporary adjustments to prescribed reprimands. By the fourth century, the Church had established fixed punishments for many specific sins, but the spiritual counselor had the authority to increase or lessen the weight of the penalty, depending on the attitude of the sinner and his ability to withstand it. The goal was to avoid a punishment that did more harm than good. To be sure, the Pauline corpus provided a basis for οἰκονομία /oikonomia, and it was almost certainly employed by some of the clergy, but it was in the monastic environment that its pastoral application developed most completely. For example, Basil of Caesarea established a systematic method of discipline for his monastic community at Pontus. There, an initial infraction generated a reproach; a pattern of misbehavior led to excommunication.67 The spiritual father, however, was encouraged to season his correction of subordinates with discernment.68 The pastoral goal of disciplinary action was to return the sinner to proper conduct. If necessary, the elder was to amend the rules, and he was expected to determine the spiritual challenges faced by his disciples, identifying the most constructive path to recovery—a path that would often require a temporary “bending” of the rules.

[1.3.9] The spiritual contest was very much internalized in ascetic literature. The legislative enjoinders found in Scripture (e.g., do not kill, do not steal, do not commit adultery) presented a moral imperative. However, through the process of intensive self-reflection, ascetics of the fourth century began to identify sin where it had gone unnoticed in the previous age. For example, they scrutinized the vices (i.e., inner depravations that led to spiritual or physical sin) and created a catalog of spiritual antidotes for their prevention—fasting prevented gluttony, charity assuaged greed, humility protected against pride. There is evidence of these concerns as early as the letters of Antony and Ammonas, but Evagrius of Pontus’s identification of eight λόγισμοί /logismoi and John Cassian’s transportation of these ideas to the West best characterize the ascetic’s intensive analysis of personal vice and virtue.

[1.3.10] Another expression of this interiorization of the spiritual life is heightened concern about demonic activity.69 Recurring references to demonic activity _[p.13] characterize ascetic literature from the fourth century and beyond. Antony’s physical battles with invisible demons and Evagrius’s identification of the eight λόγισμοί /logismoi with demonic assault are prime examples of the spiritual anxieties underlying ascetic literature.70 Pastorally speaking, the identification of demonic activity reinforced the need for ascetic action. By linking hunger to the demon of gluttony or sluggishness to the demon of sloth, ascetics fostered a self-perpetuating world of spiritual conflict full of suspense and danger. The threat of demonic influence reinforced the need for self-examination, and the detection of vice or the evidence of demons reaffirmed the need for askesis and spiritual supervision. The elder did more than instill order and regulate abstinence. He was the only one capable of protecting the average monk from inner temptations as well as external spiritual foes.

[1.3.11] A final example of the methods of spiritual direction in the ascetic community is that of the saintly exemplar. The circulation of ascetic sayings and vitae in late antiquity provided a paradigm of instruction that was easily communicated to a multitude of audiences. After a monk confessed his sins or doubts to his mentor, the elder was able to offer encouragement and/or instruction through the exemplar. The Apophthegmata is the best example of this, but as we will see in chapter 4, John Cassian’s Conferences (Conlationes) functioned in a similar way. By exhorting a disciple to either a holy saying or pious act, the spiritual counselor could solve any crisis. If a monk suffered from despair, then there was an account to rebuild his confidence. If he suffered from gluttony, then there were dozens of anecdotes to scare him into temperance. These accounts provided practical spiritual advice that reinforced the ascetic imperative—the wide circulation of the lives and sayings of the saints was due, in part, to their pastoral practicality.71

[1.4.1] GENERALLY speaking, the “parish” clergy of the early fourth century busied themselves with a different type of pastoral ministry that was dominated by the sacramental, doctrinal, and administrative responsibilities of their office. By this time, the sacramental roles of the clergy had been firmly established. As John Chrysostom noted near the close of the century, the priest could literally confer salvation through baptism and the Eucharist— a quality (according to Chrysostom) that placed the priest in a position superior to the angels.72 _[p.14]

[1.4.2] Also by this time, confession and penance had begun to emerge as important “sacramental” functions of the clergy.73 Even before Constantine, the Didascalia provided some detail about the bishop’s role in investigating, disciplining, and counseling the sinners of his community.74 However, the text also acknowledged that the bishop was unlikely to be familiar with every lay person and consequently that the latter should use the deacons as a mediator.75 According to the Didascalia, however, the deacons did not possess the ability to bind or loose sin.76 As a result, the text did not provide for the type of intimate spiritual relationship that we find in the ascetic community between a spiritual father and his disciples. While some clerics who were unaffiliated with organized asceticism may have cultivated a relationship with members of their flock (a relationship that would have mirrored the more intensive pattern of the ascetic community), there is little evidence from our sources for such a scenario. Not until the second half of the fourth century (when men like Gregory Nazianzen, Basil of Caesarea, and John Chrysostom rose to the episcopate) do we find an endorsement of the ascetic notions of spiritual fatherhood penetrating the lay Church.

[1.4.3] For many members and advocates of the cleric-oriented approach to spiritual direction, doctrinal instruction was the most important of the cleric’s many pastoral responsibilities. The great influx of converts during the fourth century prompted the call for an articulate, well-trained clergy who could disseminate the teachings of the faith to a large and diverse audience. The priest was expected to convey the doctrinal truths of orthodox teaching to the faithful through either catechism, the public homily, or private consultations. It was not enough for the cleric to understand the tradition—he had to be able to communicate it effectively. Interestingly, every hierarch that commented on the subject during the fourth and fifth centuries bemoaned the paucity of quality preachers.

[1.4.4] An essential component of instruction involved the proper understanding of the Scriptures. Many bishops from the fourth century onward devoted an immense amount of time to public exegesis. John Chrysostom provides an excellent example of this. Over five hundred exegetical sermons on various books of the Old and New Testaments survive, clearly demonstrating his moniker as the “golden-mouthed.” At least three of our authors, Athanasius, Augustine, and Gregory I, understood the public explanation of Scripture (i.e., preaching) to be the cornerstone of a bishop’s pastoral ministry. Through _[p.15] preaching, they hoped not only to promote an orthodox understanding of the Scriptures but also to shape Christian behavior.77

[1.4.5] It was the administrative responsibilities that seem to have caused the most headaches for the early clergy. Our sources describe with embittered detail the time and resources that clerics spent caring for the poor and sick, supervising widows and virgins, and building churches and hospitals.78 By the close of the fourth century, these rather obvious pastoral tasks expanded to include many civic responsibilities that had been previously performed by the Roman curiales and other administrative officials.79 Participating in the institution of the episcopal court was seen by many bishops to be an enormous burden.80 Moreover, in those regions that were unsettled by the barbarian movements, the ransoming of captives and care of prisoners became important clerical roles. As we will read in chapter 5 , by the close of the sixth century the papacy had become so ingrained in the civic administration of Italy that Pope Gregory I found himself arranging for lumber shipments, rebuilding the city’s defenses, and negotiating with hostile forces.

[1.4.6] Even the more traditional of the bishop’s administrative concerns were likely to absorb a great amount of his attention and bring him little satisfaction for his efforts. In urban environments, providing for the poor put the bishop into the businesses of fund-raising, property management, and administration. The same was true of the care of widows, which involved both financial support and spiritual outreach. In describing the anguish that accompanied the care of widows, John Chrysostom lamented: “Widows, as a group, owing partly to their poverty, partly to their age, and partly to their gender, indulge in an uncontrolled freedom of speech (this, I think, is what I will call it). The minister must bear it all politely and not be provoked by their annoying habits or their unreasonable complaints?”81

[1.4.7] Although monastic and lay life would remain distinct, by the fifth century some of the pastoral traditions that had originated with the ascetic community began to take root in the broader Church. A significant change had occurred. Among the many transformations for the Christian community during the fourth century, one of the most significant was the rise of professed ascetics to positions of episcopal power. This began in the second half of the fourth century and continued to gain momentum in the fifth and sixth centuries. For our purposes, this evolution in episcopal recruitment led to a sea change in the practice of spiritual direction in the lay Church because many of _[p.16] these ascetics brought with them the pastoral traditions that they had learned in a monastic setting. For several generations, however, that change was inconsistent, and many authors presented competing ideas about spiritual direction. It was precisely during this period of uncertainty that some of the most influential writers developed a new genre of Christian literature to navigate the choppy waters of post-Constantinian spiritual direction.

[1.5.1] THE second half of the fourth century witnessed a new development in Christian writing: the pastoral treatise. Gregory Nazianzen, Ambrose of Milan, and John Chrysostom separately authored substantial treatments of the subject. Their texts defined who should and who should not receive ordination, identified the priest’s practical responsibilities, and anticipated many of the priest’s pastoral challenges. Each of these men fit the model of the ascetic-bishop, and each struggled to resolve the tension between ascetic idealism and the realities of pastoral ministry.82 I believe that the pastoral treatise emerged, in part, to resolve that tension.

[1.5.2] Unlike any that preceded it, this genre provided its authors with the opportunity to explore in detail both the criteria for authority and the techniques of spiritual leadership. It also offered its authors sufficient flexibility to maneuver between their ascetic ideals and pastoral obligations. Unlike the Didascalia or other Church orders, which had issued specific qualifications for leadership and precise rules concerning discipline, the pastoral treatise enabled an author to offer nuanced ideas about spiritual authority and supervision. John Chrysostom, for example, could identify ascetic experience as a prerequisite for leadership, but he could also assert that a successful ministry was not guaranteed by renunciation alone.83 Likewise, Gregory Nazianzen could encourage his readers to moderate their correction of subordinates according to the needs of individual circumstance (something discovered through discernment).84

[1.5.3] Moreover, as we will see in chapter 2, Nazianzen used the pastoral treatise to express his deepest uncertainties about his ability to balance care for his flock with his own private meditation. His solution, a middle course between pastoral service and ascetic contemplation, instituted a new paradigm for clerical leadership that eventually came to dominate spiritual direction in the Middle Ages. It was the pastoral treatise that hastened the acceptance of this model. _[p.17] Not only did Gregory’s ideas inform subsequent authors of pastoral treatises (especially John Chrysostom and Pope Gregory I), but the pastoral treatise became the preferred genre for authors who embraced Gregory’s basic thesis to circulate their own ideas about spiritual direction.85

[1.5.4] For example, we find the earliest discussions of how to combine ascetic and clerical duties in the pastoral treatise. Ambrose, bishop of Milan from 374 to 397, understood the priest’s duties to include doctrinal instruction, the celebration of the sacraments, the support of the poor and widows, and the supervision of virgins. He also described the need to mentor inexperienced clerics. Referring to the ideal relationship of Joshua and Moses, Ambrose described the bond that a teacher and disciple shared, and he affirmed that spiritual authority could be transferred from the one to the other.86 Though not fully developed, Ambrose’s description of the experienced advisor was similar to the spiritual father/spiritual disciple pattern of direction that was developing in the ascetic community. The bridge between the ascetic and clerical patterns of direction was even more explicit in Nazianzen’s “Apology for His Flight” and Chrysostom’s On the Priesthood (De sacerdotio).87

[1.5.5] Although Ambrose, Nazianzen, and Chrysostom each included ascetic standards among their criteria for ordination (e.g., St. Ambrose even insisted on clerical celibacy), this first group of pastoral treatises does not show a whole-scale adoption of the ascetic model.88 John Chrysostom, for example, continùed to locate the soteriological role of the priesthood in the sacraments. And not everyone approved of the infusion of ascetic ideas into the realm of pastoral care. Many members of the clergy resisted the idea of bestowing authority solely on the basis of ascetic experience (e.g., John Chrysostom, Augustine, and Pope Siricius).89 But the pastoral treatise gave Nazianzen and others like him (in both the East and the West) the opportunity to explore the ambivalence of their pastoral intuitions. As the wide circulation of these texts suggests, pastoral treatises provided subsequent generations of clergy with a map for making the uncertain journey from monastery to parish.

[2.1] IN the last few years, three impressive monographs have explored the relationship between asceticism, the episcopate, and authority in late ancient Christianity. Conrad Leyser, Andrea Sterk, and Claudia Rapp each offer insightful _[p.18] and provocative interpretations of authors and themes that are explored in this study. Though each targets different authors and asks different questions, collectively they seek to understand how ascetics gained and exercised authority within the Church during late antiquity. The present study focuses more precisely on the multifaceted transformation of spiritual direction that accompanied this rise of ascetics to positions of authority. However, there is some overlap between these studies and my own, and at times I offer different interpretations. As a result, a brief overview of these texts and their conclusions is in order.

[2.2] The first study to appear, in 2000, was Conrad Leyser’s Authority and Asceticism from Augustine to Gregory the Great. Focusing on the West, Leyser maintains that Augustine and John Cassian offered competing theories about the role of moral purity in the acquisition of temporal authority in that Augustine refused to grant authority to monks, while Cassian defined authority in terms of moral rectitude.90 Leyser devotes the majority of his study to subsequent authors who forged unique syntheses from these two models, culminating in Gregory, who, according to Leyser, “was able to harness the full force of ascetic detachment to the exercise of power in the world..”91 In many ways, the collective work of Robert Markus informs Leyser’s historical perspective. According to Markus, Christianity in the West underwent an “ascetic invasion” between the careers of Augustine and Gregory that led, in part, to what he calls the end of ancient Christianity.92 Leyser supplements that thesis through his use of discourse analysis and an examination of authority through discourse. For example, scholars traditionally interpret Pope Gregory I’s many protestations about his own leadership as either the ritual gesture of a civic magistrate or the authentic expression of an ascetic reluctant to take office. Leyser, however, reads Gregory’s declarations as a “rhetoric of vulnerability” central to his acquisition and continued exercise of authority.93 In effect, Leyser’s Gregory secured his position by calling attention to his inadequacies. Though the questions that Leyser puts to his texts are different from my own, the reader will find (in both studies) a Gregory who can effectively bridge the gulf between Augustine and Cassian.

[2.3] Andrea Sterk’s Renouncing the World yet Leading the Church: The Monk-Bishop in Late Antiquity grew out of a dissertation on Basil of Caesarea.94 Though she offers a careful analysis of other authors, she maintains that the model of the monastic bishop that came to dominate the Byzantine Church was _[p.19] the brainchild of Basil. Sterk argues that Basil’s monastic Rules (Regulae) and his ascetic Morals (Moralia) provided the keys not only for ascetic discipline but for leadership. She also notes that Basil raised at least three monks to the episcopate because he believed that only the “monk-bishop” could be trusted against the dual threats of heresy and the temptation of power. Interestingly, she also asserts that whether or not Basil was truly responsible for this integration, subsequent Byzantine hagiographers and canonists believed he was, and it was this received history that shaped later Byzantine notions of the episcopate.

[2.4] Claudia Rapp’s impressive monograph Holy Bishops in Late Antiquity: The Nature of Christian Leadership in an Age of Transition provides an excellent point of departure for my own study. She explores how three distinct types of authority (pragmatic, spiritual, and ascetic) coalesce in the episcopate in the late ancient Christian East. She argues that by the middle of the sixth century the episcopate in the East became more engaged with pragmatic (i.e., civic) authority than ascetic; consequently, she maintains, this led to both the increasing identification of Church with empire and the patronage of a bishop over his city.95 Leading to that conclusion, however, she demonstrates that men of very different backgrounds were able to exercise authority in both the Church and the polis. And she cautions that we should not haphazardly oppose monks to bishops—not only did bishops have access to ascetic authority, but many monks became clerics. It is in this nebulous world of the monk-bishop that the present study explores the transformation of spiritual direction. In other words, it seeks to answer how ascetics who came to wield episcopal authority resolved the tension between their ascetic idealism and the realities they faced in ministering to the laity.

[2.5] The chapters that follow explore the career and pastoral ideas of five influential Christian authorities of the early Church. Each chapter begins with a brief overview of the subject’s life. Each chapter then examines the individual’s criteria for spiritual authority and (where the evidence permits) his advice for subordinate ministers and his own methods of spiritual direction. As we will see, these authors drew differently from the ascetic and clerical traditions that they knew. They were not the only individuals to shape the pastoral traditions of the subsequent era; however, in selecting them, I strove to identify specific authors who not only cast a long shadow into the Middle Ages but also made an original contribution to the history of spiritual direction.96 _[p.20]

[2.6] To be sure, some readers will question my selection of authors. Why, for example, did I choose Nazianzen instead of Basil of Caesarea? Why did I not include John Chrysostom or Caesarius of Arles?97 I hope that the reasons for selecting these five will become evident in the pages that follow And like every scholar I hope that my work will, in some small way, inspire others to correct, complete, or improve upon my observations.