March 13, 2013

Gregory I (the Great)

Dear People of Christ Church:

The ancient Roman god Saturn, we learned last week, ruled over a long-lost earthly paradise, but had priests who maundered and gloomed their way through life. By contrast, the late-Roman pope Gregory I (590-604) was surrounded by priests and monks who were happy enough, if not quite as trustworthy as their ancient cousins, and to whom he gave song. However, he ruled over a tempested land and church that were never far from want or war. Gregorius Anicius, as he was known, was from the Roman aristocracy, but being that is his day was not what it once was. They might've had villas on the finest hills in the city, but they were still just across or up the street from the ruins of the old imperial palaces, the Circus, or the Colosseum. Though Gregory's family had estates near the city and in Sicily, and retired to them when things got rough, Italy itself lived in an uneasy peace between the Eastern Roman Empire under Justinian and the Germanic tribes who thought it theirs for the taking. Living there, I think, would've been a bit like living in modern Lebanon or Korea. Peace there might be, and from time to time strong rule, but menace was never far away.

In the late Roman empire, and in the kingdoms that replaced it, the way up in life meant having land, influence in the church-or both, since one tended to beget the other. Struggles for church control, as nasty as they can be, are less hard on a people than are civil wars. In those days, little got done if the church didn't do it, and family was still what mattered most. Gregory's great-great grandfather had been pope, and his dad was a minor functionary in the ecclesiastical government of Rome. Gregory played his hand well, eventually becoming the pope's ambassador to Constantinople. There, he learned two important things: 1) the theological/political disputes between Latin and Greek Christianity were irritating and getting worse, and 2) the empire was about to abandon Italy, again, to the northern invaders. Longing to retire the monastery which he had founded in his former family home, he was, instead, elected pope after his mentor, Pelagius II, died.   

Contemplative, intellectual types with a love of prayer, writing and good music can make good church leaders, at least if they put their back into it. Gregory did. As he built up the muscles for administration, diplomacy, conflict resolution and effective management, though, those he had for culture, curiosity and wonder seem to have atrophied. His relief efforts for those made homeless by the invading Lombards still serve as models for church efficiency and transparency. He had the church sell what it had to and grow what it could so that the refugees could have what they needed. He made sure that everyone who could contribute to this effort did so. (Fans of relieving those suffering in and near Syria right now, just to give one example, might take notice.) Busy with such works of large-scale mercy, Gregory did not long suffer those who got in his way or whom he considered frauds or fools. What creative skills remained to him went into such things as updating the sluggish, undulating Ambrosian chants of the 4^th century into the more melodic Gregorian style and into making liturgy both more interesting and more carefully crafted. He had a thing for blondes, and, not least because of that, sent missionaries to convert the then quite blond, and still quite pagan, English.

These were the days when converting a people meant having them trade internecine warfare and near-constant violence for relative peace and fair-to-good government by church officials and housebroken nobility. It was not paradise, not by long shot, but it beat refugee camps, slavery, and famine. Though those who beat swords into ploughshares could still die on others' blades (see under: "Vikings" and "Attila") the arc of Gregory's world and ministry bent towards peace and justice.

St. Gregory (he was that, too) said once: Non enim pro locis res, sed pro bonis rebus loca amanda sunt - "Things are not to be loved for the sake of a place, but places are to be loved for the sake of their good things." He said this to Augustine, on his way to convert Kentishmen and other Englanders, and it is well worth taking to heart today. We love good things because of what they are, not because of where they are. We love certain places because there are good things in them, but we do not love a thing simply because it happens to be in a certain place. It is like that with people, virtues, and all that is good in life. "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," as Juliet once said, and also about her Romeo. Goodness goes with the good where, and as, they go.

Blessings,

Fr. Christopher