No one presumes to teach an art till he has first, with intent meditation, learned it. What rashness is it, then, for the unskillful to assume pastoral authority, since the government of souls is the art of arts!
Unlike
our three other friends, Gregory did not have the opportunity to interact with
his fellow Doctors. Born around AD 540, he already had five centuries of
Christian history before him. Even so, his story is not so unlike that of those
who preceded him.
Raised
in an Italian family of means and prominence, Gregory received the benefits of
comfort, stability, education, and opportunity. Like Ambrose, he pursued a
career in politics, and by 573 he had achieved the position of prefect of Rome.
When his father died, however, Gregory chose to sell his property and take up
the life of a Benedictine monk, converting six family estates into monasteries.
Gregory
soon found favor in the eyes of several popes as Benedict I ordained him as a
deacon of Rome and later Pelagius II commissioned him as an ambassador to
Constantinople. Tired of such public endeavors, he returned to his Roman
monastic life in 586, although he was promptly elected abbot and called upon as
an adviser to Pelagius until the Pope’s death four years later.
In
keeping with the style of Ambrose and Augustine, Gregory found himself the
elected successor to the papacy against his will. But the voice of the clergy and
the people of Rome won out, and on September 3, 590, he was consecrated Pope
Gregory.
By
this point, Rome was far from its glory days, and the city itself had fallen
into disrepair after floods, famine, and epidemics wrought their havoc. Gregory
therefore took responsibility for more than the city’s religious state, and
among other tasks, he repaired the aqueducts, replenished the grain supply, and
fed the poor. With the once mighty Empire now in ruins, the papacy took steps
to regain control of the situation and here achieved power and prestige beyond
that which it had formerly experienced.
But
Gregory influenced more than the humanitarian needs of his own city. In the
course of his fourteen-year pontificate, he made peace with the warring Lombards,
sent missionaries to England, and promoted the advancement of Benedictine
monasticism. Still, his rule was not free from flaws. An avid proponent of
Augustine’s teachings, Gregory twisted his speculations into certain truth
(compare this, perhaps, to a modern-day teacher or pastor advocating the
thoughts of C.S. Lewis as unarguable certainties). Among these
speculation-truths are counted the doctrines of purgatory and
transubstantiation--doctrines that persisted and morphed in the following
centuries until coming to a crisis during the Reformation.
Beyond
the actions and accomplishments of his life, what more has Pope Gregory I (or,
Gregory “the Great”) left us?
Words.
Many, many words.
Although
his writings are by no means speculative or original, Gregory does provide us with
works that are “clear and powerful propounders of the practical orthodox
tradition.” His letters, commentaries, sermons, and books reflect on the moral
and practical side of church doctrine and theology more than on scholarly
pursuits.
Out
of his many works, let’s take a quick look at one book he wrote early in his papal
career: Regula Pastoralis, or The Pastoral Rule. Composed as a set of
instructions for bishops, it advises that those who would pursue clerical
office ought to “let fear temper the desire,” but when one is selected, he ought to “let his life commend it” and practice
what he preaches. The volume goes on to address the virtues necessary for a
good pastor, the methods of ministering to a diverse congregation, and a
reminder that pastors be aware of their own weaknesses. Such detailed
instructions confirm Gregory’s belief that “the government of souls is the art
of arts,” and that Christian leadership is never to be taken lightly, for the
flock and the little ones are of great value.
Let
me once more conclude by asking, “What makes Gregory ‘Great’ today?”
1) Gregory’s
Pastoral Rule gives modern readers a
chance to put things in perspective and realize that we have more in common
with our Christian forerunners than we might think. The temptation towards
seeking the prestige of office has in no way diminished since his pontificate
one thousand years ago, and human nature has not risen above the “hidden
delight in self-display.” We often like to think we’ve risen above the sins of
the past, yet here we see the struggle of leadership throughout the ages.
2) On
a similar note, Gregory was acutely aware of his own flaws. “I direct others to
the shore of perfection,” he writes, “while myself still tossed among the waves
of transgressions.” Here again we find a man who did not consider himself
saintly or great but who affirmed his identity as a sinner saved by grace. He
writes, therefore, not out of a spirit of superiority but out of empathy and
experience. Such humility is admirable, especially in light of the position he
held, a position, no less, whose power and authority was greatly elevated by
his rule. Regardless of your rank, are you able to recognize your own
short-comings, or would you rather dwell solely upon your successes and
accomplishments? Human nature prefers the latter, but might not true humility
and “greatness” lie most fully in the former?
I
direct others to the shore of perfection, while myself still tossed among the
waves of transgressions. But in the shipwreck of this present life sustain me,
I beseech you, by the plank of your prayer, that, since my own weight sinks me
down, the hand of your merit may raise me up.
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