Why a Monk with Money Cannot Stay

So, having money to provide for his wanderings, with which he has fitted himself, as it were, with wings, and being now quite ready for his move, he answers every command insolently. He behaves like a stranger and a visitor, and whatever he sees that needs improving he despises and treats with contempt. Though he has a supply of money secretly hidden away, he complains that he has neither shoes nor clothes, and is indignant that they are given out to him so slowly. And if it happens that, by the superior’s arrangement, some of these things are given first to one who is known to have nothing at all, he is inflamed still more with burning rage and thinks he is despised as a stranger. He is not content to turn his hand to any work, but finds fault with everything the needs of the monastery require to be done.

Then he deliberately looks for occasions to take offense and be angry, so that he may not seem to have left the discipline of the monastery for a trivial reason. And not content to leave by himself alone, in case it should be thought that he left through his own fault, he never stops corrupting as many as he can by secret talks. But if harsh weather holds up his journey and travels, he stays the whole time in suspense and anxiety of heart, and never stops sowing and stirring up discontent. For he thinks he will find comfort for his departure, and an excuse for his fickleness, only in the bad character and faults of the monastery.