To Leander, Bishop of Seville, on the Weight of Office and the Pallium

Gregory to Leander, bishop of Spain. [a]

I have received your holiness’s letter, written with the pen of love alone. For what the tongue put onto the paper had taken its color from the heart. Good and wise men were present when it was read, and at once their hearts were stirred. Each of them began to take hold of you in his heart with the hand of love, because in that letter the sweetness of your nature was not heard but seen. One by one they were all set on fire, and all admired; and the very fire of the hearers showed how warm the speaker had been. For unless torches are burning themselves, they will not kindle others. We saw, then, with how great a love your mind was aflame, since it set others alight too. Your life, indeed, which I always remember with great reverence, they did not know; but the loftiness of your heart was plain to them from the lowliness of your language. [b]

As for my life, this letter of yours speaks of it as worthy of imitation by all. But may what is not as it is said to be become so because it is said to be so, so that one who is not in the habit of lying may not be found to lie. In reply to this, however, I say briefly the words of a certain good woman: “Do not call me Naomi, that is, beautiful; call me Mara, for I am full of bitterness” (Ruth 1, verse 20). For indeed, good man, I am not today the man you knew. For I confess that in advancing outwardly I have fallen far inwardly, and I fear that I am among those of whom it is written, “You cast them down while they were being lifted up” (Psalm 73, verse 18). For he is cast down while he is lifted up who rises in honors and falls in conduct. For I, following the ways of my Head, had resolved to be the scorn of men and the outcast of the people, and to run in the lot of him of whom the psalmist again says, “He has set the ascents in his heart in the valley of tears” (Psalm 84, verses 5 and 6): that is, that I should rise inwardly all the more truly as I lay outwardly all the more humbly in the valley of tears. But now a burdensome honor weighs me down, countless cares clamor around me, and when my mind gathers itself for God, they split it with their attacks as if with swords. My heart has no rest. It lies flat in the lowest place, weighed down by the load of its thoughts. Very seldom, or not at all, does the wing of contemplation lift it up high. My sluggish soul is numb. With worldly cares barking all around it, it is already almost stupefied, and is forced now to deal with earthly things, and now even to manage the things of the flesh; and sometimes, worn down by sheer distaste, it is compelled to settle some matters in a way that brings guilt with it. Why should I say more? Overcome by its own weight, it sweats blood. For unless sin were meant by the name of blood, the psalmist would not say, “Deliver me from blood guilt” (Psalm 51, verse 14). But when we add sin to sins, we also fulfill what is said by another prophet: “Blood has touched blood” (Hosea 4, verse 2). For blood is said to touch blood when sin is joined to sin, so as to multiply the load of wickedness.

But in the midst of all this I implore you, by Almighty God, to hold me up with the hand of your prayer, for I have fallen into the billows of turmoil. For I sailed, as it were, with a fair wind when I led a quiet life in a monastery; but a storm, rising suddenly with gusting waves, caught me in its tumult, and I lost the good fortune of my voyage; for in losing my rest I suffered shipwreck. Look, now I am tossed in the waves, and I am looking for the plank of your intercession, so that, since I have not been found worthy to reach port rich, with my ship whole, I may at least, after my losses, be brought to shore with the help of a plank.

Your holiness writes that you are afflicted with the pains of gout, and I too am grievously worn down by continual suffering from it. But comfort will be close at hand if, under the scourges we suffer, we call to mind whatever faults we have committed. Then we will see that they are not scourges but gifts, if by the pain of the flesh we purge the sins we committed for the pleasure of the flesh. Further, we have sent you, with the blessing of the blessed Peter, prince of the apostles, a pallium, to be used only in the celebration of mass. In sending it to you I ought to give you much advice about how you should live; but I hold back my words, since in your way of life you run ahead of what I would say. May Almighty God keep you under his protection and bring you to the rewards of the heavenly homeland with many fruits of souls. As for me, this short letter bears witness to how much business and how much weakness weigh me down, for in it I say little to one whom I greatly love.