On the Holy Spirit 30.76–30.79

To what, then, shall we compare the present state of things? It is surely like a naval war, which men fond of sea fights and of war have started out of old grievances, having nourished a great fury against one another. Look, I pray, in this image at the fleet bearing down fearfully from either side; then, when their anger has burst out beyond remedy, they close and fight it out. Suppose, if you like, that the fleet is also tossed by a violent squall, and that darkness suddenly falling from the clouds blackens everything in sight, so that there is no longer any distinguishing friends from enemies, their signals being unrecognizable in the confusion. Let us add to the image, for vividness, a sea swelling and churned up from the depths, a torrent of rain bursting from the clouds, and the fearful surf rising from the heaving waves; then, the winds from every side crashing together, the whole fleet dashed together; and of those in the line of battle, some turning traitor and deserting in the very midst of the struggle, while others are forced at the same time to push off the vessels driven upon them by the winds, to advance against those attacking them, and to slaughter one another in the faction that envy of superiority and each man's desire to prevail himself have produced. Imagine besides a confused and indistinct din filling the whole sea there, from the howling winds, the crashing of ships, the boiling surge, and the shouting of the combatants, who utter every kind of cry at what they suffer, so that neither admiral's nor helmsman's voice can be heard, but there is dreadful disorder and confusion, the extremity of their evils, through despair of life, giving them full license to do wrong. Add to them also some incurable disease of mad ambition, so that, as the ship is already going to the bottom, the passengers do not give way to one another in the contest for first place.

Pass now, I pray, from the image to the archetype of the evil itself. Did not the Arian schism at first, having separated into a faction opposed to the church of God, seem to stand alone by itself in the ranks of the enemy? But when, after long and bitter strife, they came against us in open conflict, then the war was split into many parts in countless ways, so that, both from common enmity and from private suspicion, the hatred became irreconcilable for all. And this tossing of the churches—is it not wilder than any surge of the sea? In it every boundary of the fathers has been moved, every foundation, and every stronghold of doctrine. Everything is shaken and tottering, poised on a rotten base; falling upon one another, we are overturned by one another. If the enemy does not strike first, the comrade at one's side wounds; if one falls stricken, his fellow soldier tramples on him. We share with one another only so far as to hate our opponents in common; when the enemies have passed by, we already see one another as enemies. Besides, who could count the multitude of shipwrecks? Some sank through the attack of enemies, others through the secret treachery of allies, others through the inexperience of those at the helm. Whole churches, crews and all, have been dashed against the hidden reefs of heretical guile and destroyed; and others, enemies of the saving passion, having seized the helm, have made shipwreck concerning the faith. And the disturbances brought on by the rulers of this world—what hurricane or tempest overturns the peoples more violently than these? A truly gloomy and dismal darkness holds the churches, since the lamps of the world, whom God set to enlighten the souls of the peoples, have been driven into exile. And the excess of their rivalry with one another, while fear of the dissolution of everything already hangs over them, takes away all perception of it. For private hostility counts for more than the common and public war, since the glory of overcoming opponents is preferred to what benefits all in common, by men for whom the immediate pleasure of ambition is worth more than the rewards laid up for hereafter. Therefore all alike, in whatever way each can, lift murderous hands against one another. A harsh cry of those clashing with one another in dispute, an indistinct and confused noise from ceaseless tumults, has now filled almost every church, as men twist the straight doctrine of piety into excesses and defects. For some are carried off into Judaism through the confusion of the persons, and others into Hellenism through the opposition of the natures; neither is the divinely inspired Scripture able to mediate for them, nor do the apostolic traditions arbitrate their reconciliation with one another. There is one rule of friendship: to speak to please; and a sufficient pretext for enmity: not to agree in opinions. Likeness in error is a surer bond of partisanship than any sworn conspiracy. Everyone is a theologian, even one whose soul is branded with countless stains. Hence innovators find a great supply of fellow partisans. So self-appointed men, eager for office, are dividing among themselves the government of the churches, having thrust aside the dispensation of the Holy Spirit. And now that the Gospel ordinances have been thrown into utter confusion through disorder, there is an indescribable jostling for the chief seats, as each of those who want to shine forces himself into the leadership. A dreadful anarchy has come rioting upon the peoples from this love of rule; hence the exhortations of those in charge are wholly ineffective and idle, since each, from the conceit born of ignorance, reckons that it is not his duty to listen to anyone but rather to rule others himself.

For these reasons I judged silence more profitable than speech, since no human voice could be heard through such tumults. For if the words of the Preacher are true, that "the words of the wise are heard in quiet," it would be far from fitting in the present state of things to speak about these matters. And that prophetic saying also holds me: "He who understands will keep silence at that time, for it is an evil time"—a time when some trip others up, some leap on the fallen, and others applaud; but there is no one who out of sympathy stretches out a hand to the one who has stumbled. And yet under the old law not even one who passed by his enemy's beast of burden fallen under its load was free of blame. But it is not so now. How could it be? Love has grown cold in everyone; the concord of brothers has been destroyed, and the very name of unanimity is unknown; loving admonitions have been done away with; nowhere is there Christian compassion, nowhere a sympathetic tear. There is no one who welcomes the one who is weak in faith; but such hatred has been kindled among fellow believers toward one another that each exults more in his neighbor's falls than in his own successes. And as in epidemics even those who live by the strictest regimen suffer equally with the others, being infected with the disease through contact with those who are sick, so now we have all become like one another, carried away into zeal for evil by the rivalry that has seized our souls. Hence the examiners of failures sit unforgiving and bitter, and the judges of good deeds are unfair and hostile; and so deeply, it seems, is the evil lodged in us that we have become more irrational than the irrational animals—since they herd with their own kind, while our fiercest war is with our own.

For all these reasons, then, I ought to have kept silence; but love drew me the other way, love that "does not seek its own" and resolves to overcome every difficulty of times and circumstances. The youths in Babylon also taught us, even when there is no one who sides with piety, to do our duty by ourselves. From the midst of the flame they sang hymns to God, not reckoning the multitude of those who set the truth at nothing, but sufficing for one another, being three. So neither did the cloud of enemies make us shrink; but, placing our hope in the help of the Spirit, we have proclaimed the truth with all boldness. For it would be the most outrageous thing of all if those who blaspheme the Spirit were so easily emboldened against the pious doctrine, while we, having so great a champion and advocate, should shrink from serving the doctrine that has been preserved to us from the tradition of the fathers by an unbroken succession of memory. What roused my zeal still further was the ardor of your unfeigned love and the gravity and quietness of your character, which assure me that you will not make public what is going to be said—not because it deserves to be hidden, but so that pearls may not be thrown before swine. So much for this. As for you, if what has been said is sufficient, let this be the end of the discussion of these matters. But if it seems deficient, there is no objection to your adding to your knowledge by persevering diligently in the inquiry and asking questions without contentiousness. For the Lord will grant, either through us or through others, the completion of what is lacking, according to the knowledge supplied by the Spirit to those who are worthy of him.