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Summer 2003

Secrets of the Saints
Bishops Extraordinary

By: William Myers

Perhaps one of my favorite movies, at least for this week, is “Brother Sun, Sister Moon,” a movie about the life of Saint Francis of Assisi. Among my favorite characters is Bishop Guido, whom the movie portrayed as the ultimate stereotype of medieval bishops. Picture, then, Assisi circa 1208 where the young Francis has just thrown all of his father’s rich, embroidered fabrics into the streets to the poor. Bishop Guido’s own extravagant dinner is interrupted by the presence of Pietro (and several townspeople), who has just dragged his son to the palace for judgment. On hearing of the interruption, Bishop Guido instructs his servants to “tell them I am out, tell them I am praying!” However, the growing crowd will not be put off. As he stands on the cathedral steps, Guido scolds Pietro for interrupting him while he is saying his office! Such was the lifestyle expected of bishops, one of luxury and privilege. They were expected to perform the necessary liturgical functions, give sentence to any cases brought before them, “hobnob” with the nobility and always justify their actions.

These are not the men I want to introduce you to, as they are better left to history. There are a select few bishops, though, whose witness shines forth through centuries and cultures. Some of these men inspired The Radical Tradition by Gilbert Markus. They are the subject of my writing. They used their office and talents to help the outcast and the poor; and were committed to justice as a guiding principle. Their example, courage, and moral conviction lead them to defy their society, their king, and even their church.

Saint John Chrysostom (347 – 407) was the earliest of this group of most exemplary pastors. His story is not as well known in the Western Church as that of his contemporary, Saint Augustine of Hippo, but it is one that all Christians need to know. Forsaking opportunities as an orator in Antioch, John chose instead a life of austerity and penance. Despite his dedication to his hermetical vocation, ill health forced him to return to Antioch. Subsequently John became a deacon and a marvelous preacher. He was an especially adamant about the abject condition of a number of people in the otherwise prosperous city. He was touched by their poverty and moved to advocate on their behalf. “Do you wish to honor the Body of the Savior? Do not despise it when it is naked. Do not honor it in church with silk vestments while outside it is naked and numb with cold. He who said, ‘This is my body,’ and made it so by his word, is the same who said, ‘You saw me hungry and you gave me no food. As you did it not to the least of these, you did it not to me.’ Honor him then by sharing your property with the poor. For what God needs are not golden chalices but golden souls.”1 After eleven years as a priest John, refusing the position of Patriarch of Constantinople, was effectively lured to a graveyard, kidnapped, and smuggled to Constantinople where he was forcibly consecrated. The patriarchal office did not bring about a transformation in John's character. With his new position, he began to preach to a wider and more powerful audience about the extravagance and immorality of the wealthy, as well as their duty to serve and help the poor. This angered many of the nobility, especially Empress Eudoxia, who readily believed such sermons were directed to her. Twice exiled by the Empress Eudoxia (with the support of Theophillus, Patriarch of Alexandria, and other clergy) John died near Komana during his second exile.

John was an ardent believer in justice who sold off many of the church’s - and his own - possessions in order to serve the poor. John used his position to advocate for those who had no other intercessor among the powerful. He knew his responsibility was primarily to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which brought him into direct opposition with both the church and state.

Bishop Wulfstan of Worcester (circa 1008 – 95) was a poor monk who was elected Bishop of Worcester, an appointment that he vehemently attempted to prevent. There is a story that Wulfstan instructed his steward to send out invitations to the local population for the great feast on Easter, and the steward did just that: he sent out invitations to the local dignitaries and to the wealthy population. Imagine everyone’s surprise when Wulfstan arrived at the feast accompanied by as many of the local poor as he could find. Taking into his care the children of local nobility, he had them serve the table and wait on the poor so that they might learn humility. This was a virtue Wulfstan knew well. It was said that he had little more knowledge than was necessary to perform his duties as bishop; a fact that his detractors, including King William, tried to use to his detriment. Though not a theologian or a polished academician, Wulfstan understood his role as pastor. He knew that it called on him first to be a servant, and he served his flock with great vigor and love. His love for people and his commitment to the Gospel extended beyond his own home. He traveled extensively, especially to decry the practice of selling those who could not pay their debts into slavery to Ireland. In Bristol, the diocese of another bishop, Wulfstan stayed for several months at a time condemning the practice. He eventually won over the inhabitants. Wulfstan was among the very few clergy of his day who considered slavery an immoral practice, and he persevered in his cause despite a real absence of ecclesiastical support in his opposition to slavery.

It is also said of Wulfstan that when priests were charging fees for baptisms, he stood at the church doors the entire day to baptize any who requested the sacrament. Wulfstan knew his episcopal duties well, and legend says that he conferred the Sacrament of Confirmation to 3,000 people in one day. Also a model for his clergy, he was one of the few Saxon bishops to retain his see after the Norman invasion. Despite the hatred between the two groups, Wulfstan was respected by all people for his generosity and fairness. The good bishop died in 1095, well into his 80’s, and was canonized 108 years after his death.

Another English saint, Saint Hugh of Lincoln, was born in Burgundy in 1140. Hugh was inspired by the example of his mother, Anna. He grew up emulating her compassion, washing the feet of lepers and caring for the poor and diseased. After her death, Hugh accompanied his father, William, to the Augustinian Monastery of Villard-Benoît. It was there that he was ordained a deacon at the age of 19.2 On a visit to the Carthusian house of Grande Chartreuse, however, Hugh found his real calling. He transferred there to live a life of great austerity. God had other plans for Hugh, though. King Henry II, in penance for the murder of St. Thomas Becket, established a new Carthusian monastery in England and wanted Hugh to become the prior. Hugh refused to accept until the king compensated the poor whose land he had confiscated for the building of the monastery, which Henry eventually did. The king was in the habit of keeping dioceses vacant for as long as possible in order to collect their revenue, but eventually circumstances required an appointment. Henry was obliged to fill the Diocese of Lincoln, and Hugh was the choice of the council of Eynsham Abbey in 1186. Initially Hugh refused the position but was obliged by obedience to the prior of Grande Chartreuse to accept the election. Upon his arrival, Hugh realized the toll that the 18-year vacancy had taken on the diocese and immediately began reforms.

In his new role as bishop, Hugh--true to character--set about visiting the poor and lepers. He would have the indigent brought to his house to feed, clothe, and bathe them. It was still customary, as in St. Wulfstan’s time, for the clergy to charge fees to their parishioners, but Hugh condemned this practice. The bishop himself would bury the poor, a duty that he was honored to perform. Hugh’s love extended not only to the poor, but also to anyone disenfranchised, including non-Christians. At a time when Jews were being persecuted throughout Christendom Hugh threatened excommunication to any Christian that would dare harm a Jew. He also threatened Galfrid, the king’s chief forester of Selwood, with excommunication when he bullied and even hunted the poor. The king was displeased by this show of opposition to the crown (whether right or wrong) and called Hugh to appear at Woodstock Castle. King Henry ordered that no one should speak to Hugh when he arrived. Hugh eventually broke the silence with a joke about how much Henry resembled his French relatives, an act that served to open communication between the two. The foresters eventually repented and the issue resolved itself. Hugh had trouble with King Richard, as well. Richard demanded that the bishops provide money and manpower for his war in France. Hugh refused. After a legal battle, the bishop won the fight and threatened anyone who touched the property of Lincoln with excommunication. It was becoming evident that God (and the courts) favored Hugh and no one dared bother him or his holdings. King Richard later said of Hugh that, "if all the prelates of the church were like him, there is not a king in Christendom who would dare raise his head in the presence of a bishop." Hugh's position was often uncomfortable, frequently tenuous, and sometimes potentially dangerous. Nevertheless, Hugh had protection--the faithful protection of a pet swan. The swan, rumored to have been ferocious at one point, was tame around Hugh and accompanied him wherever he went.

Hugh, after 2 years of chronic illness, became gravely ill during the national council in London. He was anointed on the nineteenth anniversary of his episcopal consecration. When he died on November 15, 1200, his funeral boasted two archbishops, fourteen bishops, two kings, one prince, one hundred abbots, and the Jewish population of Lincoln. The entire Lincoln Ghetto mourned the passing of their protector.3 After numerous miracles, he was canonized by Pope Honorius II, 20 years after his death. His bodily relics were venerated until King Henry VIII’s removal of them in 1540, but his true relics are the memory of his eager defense of the downtrodden and his uncompromising demand for justice and equality.

Saint Anthony (1390 – 1444), Archbishop of Florence, is the last of our reforming saints. When Anthony first attempted to enter the Dominican Order at the age of fifteen, Blessed John Dominici instructed him to read the Decretum Gratiani and to come back in one year. When Anthony returned, Dominici was amazed: Anthony had committed the entire document to memory! It should come as no surprise, then, that Anthony became a canon-lawyer, known throughout all of Italy for his intelligence and fairness. He was elected by Pope Eugenius IV, in 1445, to become Archbishop of Florence, an appointment which he argued against due to his “incapacity, ill-health, and advancing years.”4 He was forced to accept the post under pain of excommunication. When he arrived after his consecration, he immediately began reorganizing the archdiocese. He reduced the chancellery bureaucracy to only six people and all of the archiepiscopal possessions were given to the poor. Anthony owned nothing of value and his only transportation was a mule (which he later sold to provide money to the poor).

Florence was never known for its tolerance for the less powerful or influential members of the city, and the ruling Signoria, along with the Medici family, often imposed heavy burdens upon the poor of the city. For instance, everyone was required to lend the city money that the city was not required to pay back. This law served to cripple the political enemies of the ruling class. Anthony, though, always ceaselessly cared for the poor, even allowing his land to be dug up so that the poor might grow food to sell. He established homes for orphans and the abandoned, and used his vast intellect to condemn all who ignored the plight of the poor. Anthony was an economist and he made sure that business was fair for all, condemning inferior products and exaggerated prices. He was truly ahead of his time, and he succeeded in relieving the debts and hardships of the poor in innovative and modern ways. Anthony supported the first program of public assistance, whereby the working class should support those who, because of some impediment, could not support themselves. He also utilized interest-free loans for the poor so that they might escape their poverty and he condemned any form of desire for profit.
Regarded as a saint during his lifetime Anthony was known for many miracles, including healing the sick. Florence, besieged by plagues and earthquakes, was deserted by all who had the means to escape, but Anthony stayed with his flock to comfort them and share in their sorrows. After one plague, famine struck the city and Anthony was obliged to ask Pope Nicholas V for assistance; but it was known that the pope never refused Anthony anything he requested. His complete lack of selfishness was remembered, even until modern times, and his intercession is particularly invoked within the city that he loved so dearly.

All of these saints, John Chrysostom, Wulfstan of Worcester, Hugh of Lincoln, and Anthony of Florence were exemplary bishops. They certainly did not “fit the mold” or live extravagant lives, as Bishop Guido was portrayed to have done. Rather they were more comparable to the “misfit” Francis brought before the bishop for judgment. In all of these shepherds, one can see similarities, namely their all adamantly forsaking lives as “career clergy”, their commitment to justice, and their genuine humility. Alike as they were, all of the pastors I have mentioned were unique and each left an indelible mark on his own respective church. They truly lived the gospel calling and loved to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable” of their times. I can only mimic the words of King Richard when speaking of Hugh when I say that if all the prelates of the Church were like these men, then no one would dare raise his head in the presence of a bishop.

“For a bishop as God’s steward must be blameless, not arrogant, not irritable, not a drunkard, not aggressive, not greedy for sordid gain, but hospitable, a lover of goodness, temperate, just, holy, and self-controlled, holding fast to the true message as taught so that he will be able both to exhort with sound doctrine and to refute opponents.” (I Timothy 7:10)