Why This Book Was Written

I, Peregrinus, the least of all the servants of God, remember the counsel of Scripture: “Ask your fathers, and they will tell you; your elders, and they will explain it to you.” And again: “Bend your ear to the words of the wise.” And once more: “My son, do not forget these instructions, but let your heart keep my words.” Remembering these counsels, I say, I, Peregrinus, am convinced that it will be of no small use, and, given my own feeble powers, certainly most necessary, that with the Lord’s help I should put in writing the things I have truly received from the holy fathers. For then I will have something ready at hand which, by constant reading, can make up for the weakness of my memory. [a]

I am moved to this not only by the fruit I may expect from my labor, but also by the season of the time and the fitness of the place. By the season of the time, because time seizes on everything human, and so we in turn ought to snatch something from it that will profit us toward eternal life. This is all the more so because a certain dreadful expectation that the judgment of God is drawing near urgently demands greater earnestness in religion, while the subtle craftiness of new heretics calls for no ordinary care and attention. I am moved also by the fitness of the place. I have left behind the throngs and crowds of the cities, and I live in the seclusion of a monastery on a remote country estate, where I can follow without distraction the Psalmist’s counsel: “Be still, and know that I am God.” Besides, this suits the purpose for which I took up this life. For at one time I was caught up in the many and wretched storms of worldly warfare. But now at last, under Christ’s guidance, I have cast anchor in the harbor of religion, a harbor that is always the safest for everyone. I came here so that, freed from the gusts of vanity and pride, and winning God’s favor by the sacrifice of Christian humility, I may escape not only the shipwrecks of the present life but also the flames of the world to come. [c]

But now, in the Lord’s name, I will set about what I have in view. That is, I will record, with the faithfulness of a reporter rather than the presumption of an author, the things our forefathers handed down to us and entrusted to our keeping. In what I write I will keep to this rule: I will by no means touch on everything that might be said, but only on what is necessary; and I will write not in an ornate and polished style, but in simple, ordinary language, so that most things may seem hinted at rather than set out in detail. Let those who are confident of their ability, or who are moved by a sense of duty, cultivate elegance and polish. For me it will be enough to have provided a Commonitory, a reminder, for myself, such as may help my memory, or rather guard against my forgetfulness. With the Lord’s help I will try to correct this same Commonitory and make it more complete little by little, day by day, by calling to mind what I have learned. I mention this at the outset so that, if what I write should happen to slip out of my hands and come into the hands of holy men, they will not be quick to find fault with anything in it, when they see the promise that it will yet be corrected and made more complete. [f]