Chapter 13. Of Vows, by Rash Promising of Which Each Man Has Miserably Entangled Himself

It is truly a thing to be lamented, that the Church, for whom liberty was purchased with the inestimable price of the blood of Christ, has been so oppressed with cruel tyranny, and almost overwhelmed with a huge heap of traditions: but in the meantime every man's private madness shows, that not without most just cause there has been so much permitted of God to Satan and his ministers. For they thought it not enough, neglecting the commandment of Christ, to bear any burdens whatever were laid upon them by false teachers, unless they did also each man procure for himself several burdens of his own, and so with digging pits for themselves should drown themselves deeper. This was done while they strived in devising of vows, by which there might be added to the common bonds a greater and stricter binding. Since therefore we have taught, that by their boldness which have borne rule under the title of pastors in the Church, the worship of God has been corrupted, when they snared helpless consciences with their unjust laws: here it shall not be out of season to join another evil which is near to it, that it may appear that the world according to the perverseness of his own disposition, has always, with such obstacles as it could, put away the helps by which it should have been brought to God. Now, that it may the better appear that very grievous hurt has been brought in by vows, let the readers keep in mind the principles above set. For first we have taught, that whatever may be required for the framing of life godly and holily, is comprehended in the law. Again we have taught, that the Lord, that he might thereby the better call us away from devising of new works, has enclosed the whole praise of righteousness in the simple obedience of his will. If these things be true, it is easy to judge that all feigned worshippings, which we invent for ourselves to deserve the favor of God, are not acceptable to him however much they please us. And truly the Lord himself in many places does not only openly refuse them, but also grievously abhors them. Hereupon arises a doubt of those vows which are made beside the express word of God, what account is to be made of them, whether they may rightly be vowed by Christian men, and how far they bind them. For the same which among men is called a promise, in respect of God is called a vow. But to men we promise those things either which we think will be pleasant to them, or which we owe of duty. Therefore there ought to be a much greater heedful observation in vows which are directed to God himself, with whom we ought to deal most earnestly. In this point superstition has in all ages marvelously ranged, so that men without judgment, without choice, did by and by vow to God whatever came in their mind, or into their mouth. Hereupon came those follies, yea monstrous absurdities of vows among the heathen, with which they did so insolently mock their gods. And I would to God that Christians also had not followed this their boldness. It ought not indeed to have been so: but we see that in certain ages past nothing has been more usual than this wickedness, that the people each where despising the law of God did wholly burn with mad greediness to vow whatever had pleased them in their dream. I will not hatefully enforce, nor particularly rehearse how heinously and how many ways herein men have offended: but I thought good to say this by the way, that it may the better appear, that we do not raise question of a needless matter, when we discuss vows.

Now if we will not err in judging which vows be lawful, and which be wrongful, it behooves us to weigh three things: that is to say, who it is to whom the vow is made: who we are that make the vow: last of all, with what mind we vow. The first point has respect to this, that we should think that we have to do with God, whom our obedience so much delights, that he pronounces all will-worships to be accursed, how gay and glorious soever they be in the eyes of men. If all voluntary worships, which we ourselves devise without commandment, be abominable to God, it follows that no worship can be acceptable to him but that which is allowed by his word. Therefore let us not take so great liberty to ourselves that we dare vow to God that which has no testimony how it is esteemed of him. For whereas that which Paul teaches, that it is sin whatever is done without faith, extends to all actions, then truly it chiefly has place when you direct your thought the straight way to God. But if we fall and err even in the smallest things, (as Paul there disputes of the difference of meats) where certainty of faith shines not before us: how much more modesty is to be used, when we attempt a thing of greatest weight? For nothing ought to be more earnest to us than the duties of religion. Let this therefore be the first consideration in vows, that we never come to the vowing of anything, but that conscience have first certainly determined that it attempts nothing rashly. But it shall then be free from danger of rashness, when it shall have God going before it, and as it were informing it by his word what is good or unprofitable to be done.

In the other thing which we have said to be here to be considered, this is contained, that we measure our own strengths, that we have an eye to our vocation, that we neglect not the benefit of liberty which God has given us. For he that vows that which either is not in his power, or disagrees with his vocation, is rash: and he that despises the bountifulness of God, whereby he is appointed Lord of all things, is ungrateful. When I say thus, I do not mean that anything is so set in our own hand, that standing upon confidence of our own strength we may promise the same to God. For it was most truly decreed in the Council at Arausium, that nothing is rightly vowed to God but that which we have received of his hand, forasmuch as all things that are offered him are his mere gifts. But since some things are by God's goodness given us, and other some things by his equity denied us: let every man (as Paul commands) have respect to the measure of grace given to him. Therefore I do here mean nothing else, but that vows must be tempered to the measure which the Lord prescribes you in his giving: lest if you attempt further than he permits, you throw yourself down headlong with taking too much upon yourself. As for example: when those murderers, of whom mention is made in Luke, vowed that they would taste of no meat till Paul were slain — although the device had not been wicked, yet the rashness itself was not to be suffered, that they made the life and death of a man subject to their power. So Jephthah suffered punishment for his folly, when with headlong heat he conceived an unadvisèd vow. In which kind, unmarried life has the chief place of mad boldness. For sacrificing priests, monks, and nuns, forgetting their own weakness, think themselves able to keep unmarried life. But by what oracle are they taught that they shall have chastity throughout all their life, to the very end whereof they vow it? They hear the word of God concerning the universal state of men: It is not good for man to be alone. They understand, and I would to God that they did not feel, that sin remaining in us is not without most sharp pricks. With what confidence dare they shake off the general calling for all their life long: whereas the gift of continence is more often granted for a certain time as opportunity requires? In such stubbornness let them not look for God to be their helper: but let them rather remember that which is said — You shall not tempt the Lord your God. And this is to tempt God, to endeavor against the nature put in us by him, and to despise his present gifts as though they nothing belonged to us. Which they not only do: but also marriage itself, which God thought it not against his majesty to institute, which he has pronounced honorable in all men, which Christ our Lord has sanctified with his presence, which he vouchsafed to honor with his first miracle, they dare call defiling, only to advance with marvelous commendations a certain unmarried life of whatever sort it be. As though they themselves did not show a clear example in their life, that unmarried state is one thing, and virginity another: which their life yet they most shamelessly call Angelic, doing herein truly too great injury to the Angels of God to whom they compare whoremongers, adulterers, and somewhat else much worse and filthier. And truly here need no arguments, when they are openly confuted by the thing itself. For we plainly see, with how horrible pains the Lord does commonly take vengeance of such arrogance, and contempt of his gifts by too much trust in themselves. I spare for shame to speak of the more secret faults, of which even this that is already perceived is too much. It is out of controversy that we ought to vow nothing, that may hinder us from serving of our vocation. As if a householder should vow, that he will leave his wife and his children and take other charges in hand: or if he that is fit to bear office, when he is chosen, does vow that he will be a private man. But what is meant by this, that our liberty should not be despised, has some difficulty if it be not declared. Therefore thus in few words I expound it. Since God has made us Lords of all things, and has so made them subject to us that we should use them all for our benefit: there is no cause why we should hope that it shall be an acceptable work to God if we yield ourselves into bondage to the outward things which ought to be a help to us. I say this for this purpose, because many do hereby seek praise of humility, if they snare themselves with many observations, from which God not without cause willed us to be free and discharged. Therefore if we will escape this danger, let us always remember that we ought not to depart from that order which the Lord has ordained in the Christian Church.

Now I come to that which I did set in the third place: that it is much material with what mind you make a vow, if you will have it allowed of God. For since the Lord regards the heart, not the outward show, it comes to pass that the self same thing, by changing the purpose of the mind, does sometime please him and is acceptable to him, and sometime highly displeases him. If you so vow the abstaining from wine, as though there were any holiness in it, you are superstitious: if you have respect to any other end which is not evil, no man can disallow it. But in my judgment there be four ends, to which our vows shall be rightly directed: of which for teaching's sake I refer two to the time past, and the other two to the time to come. To the time past belong those vows, whereby we do either testify our thankfulness to God for benefits received: or to crave the turning away of his wrath, we ourselves do punish ourselves for the offenses that we have committed. Let us call the first sort, if you will, the exercises of thanksgiving, the other of repentance. Of the first kind we have an example in the tithes which Jacob vowed, if the Lord did bring him home safe out of banishment into his country. Again in the old sacrifices of the peace offerings, which godly kings and captains, when they took in hand righteous war, did vow that they would pay if they had obtained the victory, or at least when they were oppressed with any great distress, if the Lord had delivered them. So are all those places in the Psalms to be understood which speak of vows. Such vows may at this day also be in use among us, so often as the Lord has delivered us either out of any calamity, or from a hard sickness, or from any other [reconstructed: danger]. For it is then not against the duty of a godly man, to consecrate to God his vowed oblation, as a solemn token of his acknowledging, lest he should seem ungrateful toward his goodness. Of what sort the second kind is, it shall suffice to show with one only familiar example. If any by the vice of gluttony has fallen into any offense, nothing prevents but that to chastise his intemperance he may for a time forsake all dainty meats, and may do the same with a vow adjoined, that he may bind himself with the stricter bond. Yet I do not so make a perpetual law to them that have likewise offended: but I show what is lawful for them to do, which shall think such a vow profitable for themselves. I therefore so make such a vow lawful, that in the mean time I leave it at liberty.

The vows that are applied to the time to come, partly (as we have already said) do tend to this end that we may be made the warier: and partly that as it were by certain spurs we may be pricked forward to our duty. Some man sees himself to be so inclined to some certain vice, that in a thing which otherwise is not evil he can not temper himself from falling forthwith into an evil: he shall do nothing inconveniently if he do for a time by vow cut off from himself the use of that thing. As if a man know that this or that apparel of body is perilous to him, and yet enticed with desire he earnestly covet it, what can he do better, than if in putting a bridle upon himself, that is in charging himself with necessity of abstaining from it, he deliver himself from all doubting? Likewise if a man be forgetful or slow to necessary duties of godliness, why may he not by taking a vow upon him both awake his memory and shake off his slothfulness? In both I grant that there is a form of childish schooling: but even in this that they are helps of weakness, they are not without profit used of the raw and imperfect. Therefore we shall say that those vows are lawful which have respect to one of these ends, specially in outward things, if they both be upheld with the allowance of God, and do agree with our vocation, and be measured by the power of grace given us of God.

Now also it is not hard to gather what is generally to be thought of all vows. There is one common vow of all the faithful, which being made in Baptism we do confirm and as it were establish by Catechism and receiving of the Supper. For the Sacraments are as charters, by which the Lord delivers to us his mercy and thereby everlasting life, and we again on our behalf do promise him obedience. But this is the form or indeed the sum of the vow, that forsaking Satan we yield ourselves into service to God, to obey his holy commandments, and not to follow the perverse desires of our flesh. It ought not to be doubted but that this vow, since it has testimony of the Scripture, indeed and is required of all the children of God, is both holy and profitable to salvation. And it makes not to the contrary, that no man in this life performs the perfect obedience of the law which God requires of us. For since this form of covenanting is comprised within the covenant of grace, under which is contained both forgiveness of sins and the Spirit of sanctification: the promise which we there make is joined both with beseeching of pardon and with craving of help. In judging of particular vows, it is necessary to keep in mind the three former rules, whereby we may safely weigh of what sort every vow is. Neither yet think that I so commend the very same vows which I affirm to be holy, that I would have them to be daily. For though I dare teach no certain rule of the number or time: yet if any man obey my counsel, he shall take upon him none but sober and for a time. For if you oftentimes break forth into making of many vows, all religiousness will with very continuance grow out of estimation with you, and you shall come to a bending readiness to fall into superstition. If you bind yourself with a perpetual vow, either for great pain and tediousness you shall undo it, or being wearied with long continuance you shall at one time or other be bold to break it.

Now also it is plain with how great superstition in this behalf the world has in certain ages past been possessed. One man vowed that he would abstain from wine: as though abstaining from wine were of itself a worship acceptable to God. Another bound himself to fasting, another to abstaining from flesh for certain days, in which he had with vain opinion feigned to be a singular holiness above the rest. And some things also were vowed much more childish, although not of children. For this was held for a great wisdom, to take upon them vowed pilgrimages to holier places, and sometimes either to go all their journey on foot, or with their body half naked, that by their weariness the more merit might be gotten. These and such other, with incredible zeal of which the world has a while swelled, if they be examined by those rules, which we have above set, shall be found not only vain and trifling, but full of manifest ungodliness. For however the flesh may judge, God abhors nothing more than feigned worships. There are beside this those pernicious and damned opinions, that hypocrites when they have such trifles think that they have gotten no small righteousness: they repose the sum of godliness in outward observations: they despise all other that are less careful of such things.

To reckon up all the particular forms is nothing to the purpose. But forasmuch as the monkish vows are had in greater reverence, because they seem allowed by the common judgment of the Church: of those it is good to speak briefly. First, lest any should by prescription of long time defend monkery, such as it is at this day, it is to be noted that in old time there was in monasteries a far other order of living. Such as were disposed to exercise themselves to greatest severity and patience went there. For what manner of discipline they say that the Lacedemonians had under the laws of Lycurgus, such was at that time among the monks, indeed much more rigorous. They slept upon the ground: their drink was water: their meat was bread, herbs and roots: their chief dainties were in oil and chickpeas. They abstained from all delicate diet and trimming of body. These things might seem above truth, if they were not written by witnesses that saw and proved them, as Gregory Nazianzene, Basil, and Chrysostom. But with such introductions they prepared themselves to greater offices. For, that the colleges of monks were then as it were the seedplots of the order of ministers of the Church, both these whom we have now named are a proof plain enough, (for they were all brought up in monasteries and from there called to the office of Bishops) and also many other singular and excellent men in their time. And Augustine shows that this was also used in his time, that monasteries yielded clerks to the Church. For he speaks thus to the monks of the Isle of Caprarea: But you brethren we exhort in the Lord, that you keep your purpose and continue to the end: and if at any time our mother the Church shall require your travail, do you neither with greedy pride take it upon you, nor with flattering slothfulness refuse it: but with a meek [reconstructed: heart] obey to God. Neither prefer you your own quiet leisure above the necessities of the Church: to whom if no good men would have ministered in her travail, you should not have found how you should have been born. He speaks there of the ministry, by which the faithful are spiritually born again. Also to Aurelius: There is both occasion of falling given to themselves, and most heinous wrong done to the order of the clergy, if forsakers of monasteries be chosen to the soldiership of the clergy: when even of those that remain in the monastery, we use to take into the clergy none but the most approved and best. Unless perhaps as the common people say, he is an evil piner but a good fiddler: so it shall also be jestingly said of us, he is an evil monk, but a good clerk. It is too much to be lamented, if we lift up monks into such a ruinous pride, and think clerks worthy of so great reproach, whereas sometimes even a good monk does not make a good clerk, if he has sufficient continence, and yet lacks necessary learning. By these places it appears, that godly men were wont with the discipline of monks to prepare themselves to the government of the Church, that they might the fitter and better instructed take so great an office upon them. Not that they all attained to this end, or yet tended toward it, when for the most part they were unlearned men: but such were chosen out as were fit for it.

But chiefly in two places he paints out to us the form of the old monasticism. In the book On the Manners of the Catholic Church, where he sets the holiness of that profession against the slanders of the Manichees: and in another book, which he entitled On the Work of Monks, where he inveighs against certain degenerate monks, which began to corrupt that order. I will here so gather a sum of those things which he says, that so near as I may I will use his own words. Despising (says he) the enticements of this world, gathered into one most chaste and holy life, they spend their time together, living in prayers, readings, and disputations, not swelling with pride, not troublesome with stubbornness, not wanton with enviousness. None possesses anything of his own, none is burdensome to any man. They get by working with their hands those things with which both their body may be fed, and their mind may not be hindered from God. Their work they deliver to them whom they call deans. Those deans, despising all things, with great carefulness make account thereof to one whom they call Father. These Fathers, not only most holy in manners, but also most excellent in godly doctrine, high in all things, do with no pride provide for them whom they call children, with great authority of them in commanding, and great willingness of the other in obeying. They come together at the very last time of the day, every one from his dwelling, while they be yet fasting to hear that Father: and there meet together to every one of these Fathers at the least three thousand men (he speaks chiefly of Egypt, and of the East). Then they refresh their body, so much as suffices for life and healthfulness, every man restraining his desire, not to take largely even of those things that they have present, very spare and vile. So they do not only abstain from flesh and wine, so much that they may be able to tame their lusts, but from such things which do so much more greedily provoke appetite of the belly and throat, however much they seem to others to be, as it were, cleaner, by color whereof the filthy desire of exquisite meats, which is not in flesh, is wont to be fondly and foully defended. Whatever remains above necessary food (as there remains often much of the works of their hands and pinching of their fare) is with greater care distributed to the poor, than it was gotten by them that do distribute it. For they do in no wise toil that they may have abundance of these things, but they by all means endeavor that that which they have abounding may not remain with them. Afterward when he has recounted the hardship, whereof he himself had seen examples both at Milan and elsewhere: among these things (says he) no man is forced to hard things which he cannot bear: no man is charged with that which he refuses: neither is he therefore condemned of the rest, because he confesses himself to want strength in following of them: for they remember how much charity is commended: they remember that all things are clean to the clean. Therefore all their diligence watches, not to the refusing of kinds of food as unclean, but to tame lust, and to retain the love of brothers. They remember, food for the belly, and the belly for foods, etc. Yet many strong do abstain for the weak's sake. Many of them have no need to do thus: but because it pleases them to sustain themselves with baser diet and nothing sumptuous. Therefore they themselves, which being in health do forbear, if consideration of their health compels, when they are sick do take without any fear. Many drink no wine, and yet they think not themselves defiled with it: for they most gently cause it to be given to the fainter, and to them that cannot get the health of their body without it: and some which foolishly refuse it, they do brotherly admonish that they be not with vain superstition sooner made weaker than holier. So they diligently exercise godliness: but they know that the exercising of the body pertains but to a short time. Charity is chiefly kept: to charity the diet, to charity the speech, to charity the apparel, to charity the countenance is fitted. They meet and conspire into one charity. To offend it is accounted as heinous as to offend God. If any resists charity, he is cast out and shunned. If any offend charity, he is not suffered to abide one day. Forasmuch as in these words, as in a painted table, that holy man seems to have set out what manner of life monasticism was in old times, although they were somewhat long, yet I was content to interlace them here: because I saw that I should have been somewhat longer if I had gathered the same things from various sources, however much I studied for brevity.

But my purpose here is not to go through this whole matter, but only by the way to point out, not only what manner of monks the old church had, but what manner of thing the profession of monks was at that time: so as the sound-witted readers may judge by the comparison, what face they have who allege antiquity to maintain the present monkery. Augustine when he depicts to us a holy and true monkery, would have to be absent all rigorous exacting of those things which by the word of the Lord are left to us at liberty. But there is nothing that is at this day more severely required. For they count it a mischief that can never be purged, if any do never so little swerve from the prescribed rule in color or fashion of garment, in kind of meat, or in other trifling and cold ceremonies. Augustine stoutly maintains, that it is not lawful for monks to live idle upon other men's. He denies that there was ever in his time any such example of a well ordered monastery. Our men set the chief part of their holiness in idleness. For if you take idleness from them, where shall be that contemplative life by which they boast that they excel all other men, and approach near to Angels? Finally Augustine requires such a monkery, as should be nothing but an exercise and help to the duties of godliness which are commended to all Christians. What? When he makes charity the chief, yes and almost only rule thereof, do we think that he praises a conspiring, by which a few men being bound together, are severed from the whole body of the church? But rather he wills them with their example to give light to others to keep the unity of the church. In both these points, there is so much difference of the monkery at this present, that a man can scarcely find anything more unlike, I will not say contrary. For our monks not contented with that godliness, to the study of which alone Christ commands those that are his continually to apply, do imagine I know not what new godliness, by meditation of which they may be more perfect than others.

If they deny this, I would know of them why they vouchsafe to give to their own order alone the title of perfection, and take away the same from all the callings of God. Neither am I ignorant of that sophistical solution, that it is not therefore so called because it does contain perfection in it, but because it is the best of all other to attain perfection. When they are disposed to boast themselves before the people, when to snare unskillful and unaware young men, when to maintain their privileges, when to advance their own dignity to the reproach of others, then they boast that they are in the state of perfection. When they are so nearly driven that they can not defend this vain arrogance, then they flee to this starting hole, that they have not yet attained perfection, but that they are in the same state in which they aspire to it above others. In the meantime that admiration among the people remains, as though the only monkish life were angelic, perfect, and cleansed from all fault. By this pretense they make most gainful markets, but that same moderation lies buried in a few books. Who does not see that this is an intolerable mockery? But let us so reason with them, as though they gave no more to their profession than to call it a state of attaining perfection. Truly in giving it this name, they do as by a special mark make it differing from other kinds of life. And who can abide this, that so great honor should be given away to an ordinance that is nowhere by any one syllable allowed: and that by the same all other callings of God, which are by his own holy mouth not only commanded, but also commended with notable titles of praise, are by the same accounted unworthy? And how great wrong (I beseech you) is done to God, when I know not what new found thing is preferred above all the kinds of life ordained by himself, and praised by his own testimony?

But go to, let them say that it is a slander which I have before said, that they are not contented with the rule prescribed by God. Yet though I hold my peace, they themselves do more than enough accuse themselves. For they openly teach, that they take upon them more burden than Christ laid upon his: because truly they promise to keep the counsels of the Gospel concerning loving their enemies, not coveting of revenge, not swearing, etc., to which things Christians are not generally bound. Wherein what antiquity will they show forth against us? This never came in any of the old fathers' minds. They all cry out with one voice that there was no one little word at all uttered by Christ, which ought not necessarily to be obeyed. And without any doubting they do everywhere teach, that these very same things by name were commandments, which these good expositors triflingly say, that Christ did but counsel. But forasmuch as we have before taught that this is a most pestilent error, let it suffice here to have briefly noted that the monkery which is at this day, is grounded upon the same opinion, which all the godly ought worthily to abhor: which is, that there should be imagined some more perfect rule of life, than this common rule which is given by God to the whole church. Whatever is built upon this foundation, can not be but abominable.

But they bring another proof of their perfection, which they think to be most strong for them. For the Lord said to the young man that asked him of the perfection of righteousness, If you will be perfect, sell all that you have and give it to the poor. Whether they do so or no, I do not yet dispute: but grant them that for this present. Therefore they boast that they are made perfect by forsaking all of theirs. If the sum of perfection stands in this, what does Paul mean when he teaches, that he who has distributed all his goods to the poor, unless he has charity, is nothing? What manner of perfection is this, which if charity be absent, is brought with man to nothing? Here they must needs answer, that this is the chief indeed, but not the only work of perfection. But here also Paul cries against them, who does not hesitate to make charity the bond of perfection, without any such forsaking. If it is certain that between the master and the disciple is no disagreement, and the one of them clearly denies the perfection of man to consist in this that he should forsake all his goods, and again affirms that perfection is without it: we must see how that saying of Christ is to be taken. If you will be perfect, sell all that you have. Now, it shall be no dark sense, if we weigh (which we ought always to mark in all the preachings of Christ) to whom these words are directed. A young man asks, by what works he shall enter into everlasting life. Christ, because he was asked of works, sends him to the law, and rightly: for it is the way of eternal life, if it be considered in itself, and is no otherwise unable to bring salvation to us but by our own perverseness. By this answer Christ declared, that he teaches no other rule to frame life by, than the same that had in old time been taught in the law of the Lord. So did he both give witness to the law of God, that it was the doctrine of perfect righteousness: and therewith did meet slanders, that he should not seem by any new rule of life to stir the people to forsaking of the law. The young man being indeed not of an evil mind, but swelling with vain confidence, answered that he had from his childhood kept all the commandments of the law. It is most certain that he was an infinite space distant from that to which he boasted that he had attained. And if his boasting had been true, he had wanted nothing to the highest perfection. For we have before showed, that the law contains in itself perfect righteousness: and the same appears hereby, that the keeping of it is called the way of eternal salvation. That he might be taught to know how little he had profited in that righteousness, which he had too boldly answered that he had fulfilled, it was profitable to shake out a familiar fault of his. When he abounded in riches, he had his heart fastened upon them. Therefore because he felt not this secret wound, Christ lanced him. Go (says he) sell all that you have. If he had been so good a keeper of the law as he thought he was, he would not have gone away sorrowful when he heard this word. For whoever loves God with all his heart, whatever disagrees with the love of him, he not only takes it for dung, but abhors it as bringing destruction. Therefore whereas Christ commands the covetous rich man to leave all that he has, it is all one, as if he should command the ambitious man to forsake all honors, the voluptuous man all delights, and the unchaste man all the instruments of lust. So consciences that are touched with no feeling of general admonition, must be called back to the particular feeling of their own evil. Therefore they do in vain draw this special case to general exposition, as though Christ did set the perfection of man in forsaking of goods: whereas he meant nothing else by this saying, than to drive the young man that stood too much in his own conceit, to feel his own sore, that he might understand that he was yet a great way distant from perfect obedience of the law, which otherwise he did falsely take upon him. I grant that this place has been evil understood of some of the fathers, and that thereupon grew this coveting of willful poverty, whereby only they were thought to be blessed, who forsaking all earthly things, did dedicate themselves naked to Christ. But I trust that all the good and not contentious men will be satisfied with this my exposition, so that they shall no more doubt of the meaning of Christ. However, the fathers thought nothing less, than to establish such a perfection, as has since been framed by the cowled Sophisters, thereby to raise up a double Christianity. For that doctrine full of sacrilege was not yet born, which compares the profession of monkery to Baptism, and even openly affirms, that it is a form of second Baptism. Who can doubt that the fathers with all their heart abhorred this blasphemy? Now as touching that last thing, which Augustine says to have been among the old monks, that is, that they applied themselves wholly to charity: what need I to show in words that it is most far from this new profession? The thing itself speaks, that all they that go into monasteries, depart from the Church. For why? Do not they sever themselves from the lawful fellowship of the faithful, in taking to themselves a peculiar ministry and private administration of Sacraments? What is it to dissolve the communion of the Church, if this is not it? And (that I may follow the comparison which I began to make, and may once conclude it) what have they in this behalf like to the old monks? They although they dwelt separately from other men, yet had not a separate Church: they did partake of the sacraments together with others: they appeared at solemn assemblies: there they were a part of the people. These men, in erecting to themselves a private altar, what have they else done but broken the bond of unity? For they have both excommunicated themselves from the whole body of the Church, and have despised the ordinary ministry, whereby the Lord willed to have peace and charity kept among his. Therefore how many ministries there are at this day, I say that there are so many assemblies of schismatics, which troubling the order of the Church, are cut off from the lawful fellowship of the faithful. And that this departing should not be secret, they have given to themselves diverse names of sects. Neither were they ashamed to boast of that, which Paul does so detest that he cannot sufficiently amplify the heinousness of it. Unless perhaps we think that Christ was divided among the Corinthians, when one gloried of one teacher, and another of another: and that now it is done without any injury to Christ, that instead of Christians we hear some called Benedictines, some Franciscans, some Dominicans: and that they are so called, that they themselves when they covet to be separately known from the common sort of Christians, do with great pride take these titles to them for the profession of their religion.

These differences which I have hitherto rehearsed between the old monks and the monks of our age are not differences in manners, but in the profession itself. Therefore let the readers remember that I have rather spoken of monkery than of monks, and have touched those faults, not which stick in the life of a few of them, but which cannot be severed from their very order of living itself. But what difference is in their manners — what need I particularly to declare? This is certain, that there is no degree of men more defiled with all filthiness of vices: nowhere more are factions, hatreds, affections of parties, ambitions hotter than among them. Indeed in a few monasteries they live chastely, if it be to be called chastity where lust is so far kept down that it be not openly evil spoken of: yet a man shall scarcely find every tenth monastery which is not rather a brothel than a holy house of chastity. But what honest sparing is in their diet? Swine are none otherwise fattened in sties. But lest they should complain that I handle them too ungently, I go no further. However, in those few things which I have touched, whoever knows the thing itself will confess that there is nothing spoken in an accusing manner. Augustine, when according to his testimony monks excelled in so great chastity, yet complains that there were many vagabonds, which with evil crafts and deceits wiped simple men from their money, which with carrying about the relics of martyrs did use filthy merchandising, yes and in place of the relics of martyrs did show forth the bones of any other dead men, and which with many such wicked doings slandered the order. As he reports that he saw no better men than those who have profited in monasteries, so he laments that he has seen no worse men than those that failed to profit in monasteries. What would he say if at this day he saw all monasteries to swell, and in a manner to burst with so many and so desperate vices? I speak nothing but that which is well known to all men. Yet does not this dispraise pertain to all without any exception at all. For as there was never rule and discipline of living holily so established in monasteries, but that there remained some dross much unlike the rest: so I do not say that monks are at this day so run out of kind from that holy antiquity, but that they have yet some good men in their flock. But they lie hidden, a few and scattered in that huge multitude of naughty and wicked men: and they are not only despised, but also lewdly railed at, and sometimes cruelly handled by others, which (as the Milesian proverb is) think that there ought to be no place for any honest man among them.

By this comparison of the old and present monkery, I trust I have brought to pass that which I purposed, that it may appear that our cowled men do falsely pretend the example of the first Church for defense of their profession: since they no less differ from them than apes from men. In the meantime I do not hesitate to declare, that even in that old form which Augustine commends, there is something which little pleases me. I grant that they were not superstitious in exacting the outward exercises of rougher discipline, but I say that there was not lacking too much affectation and wrongful zeal. It was a fine thing, forsaking their goods, to be without all earthly carefulness: but God more esteems care to rule a household in a godly manner, when a holy householder being loose and free from all covetousness, ambition, and other desires of the flesh, travails to this purpose to serve God in a certain vocation. It is a fine thing to play the philosopher in wilderness far from the company of men: but it agrees not with Christian gentleness as it were for hatred of mankind to flee into desert and solitariness, and besides to forsake those duties which the Lord has chiefly commanded. Although we grant that there was no other evil in that profession, yet this truly was no small evil, that it brought an unprofitable and perilous example into the Church.

Now therefore let us see what manner of vows they be, with which monks at this day are professed into this goodly order. First, because their mind is to institute a new and feigned worshipping to deserve God's favor: I conclude by the things spoken before that whatever they vow is abominable before God. Secondly without any regard of God's calling, without any his allowance, they invent for them such a kind of living as pleases themselves. I say that it is a rash and therefore an unlawful enterprise: because their conscience has nothing whereupon it may uphold itself before God, and whatever is not of faith, is sin. Moreover when they bind themselves to many perverse and wicked worshippings, which the monkery at this day contains in it, I affirm that they are not consecrated to God, but to the devil. For why was it lawful for the Prophet to say, that the Israelites offered their children to devils and not to God: only for this that they had corrupted the true worship of God with profane ceremonies: and shall it not be lawful for us to say the same of monks, which with their cowl do put upon themselves a snare of a thousand wicked superstitions? Now what sorts of vows are there? They promise to God perpetual virginity, as though they had bargained with God before, that he should deliver them from need of marriage. There is no cause why they should allege, that they do not make this vow but trusting upon the grace of God. For since he pronounces that he gives it not to all men, it is not in us to conceive a confidence of a special gift. Let them that have it, use it. If at any time they feel themselves to be troubled of their flesh, let them flee to his help by whose only power they may resist. If they prevail not, let them not despise the remedy that is offered them. For they by the certain word of God are called to marriage, to whom power of continence is denied. Continence I call, not whereby the body is only kept clean from whoredom, but whereby the mind keeps chastity undefiled. For Paul commands not only outward wantonness, but also the burning of the mind, to be avoided. This (say they) has from furthest time of memory been observed, that they which would dedicate themselves wholly to the Lord, should bind themselves to the vow of continence. I grant indeed that this manner has also been of ancient time received: but I do not grant that that age was so free from all fault, that whatever was then done must be taken for a rule. And by little and little this unappeasable severity crept in, that after a vow made there was no room for repentance. Which is evident by Cyprian. If virgins have of faith dedicated themselves to God, let them continue modestly, and chastely without any feigning. So being strong and steadfast let them look for the reward of virginity. But if they will not or cannot continue, it is better that they should marry than with their delights fall into the fire. What reproaches would they now spare to tear him with, that would with such equity temper the vow of continence? Therefore they are departed far from that ancient manner, which will not only admit no moderation or pardon if any be found unable to perform his vow: but they do without all shame pronounce that he sins more grievously if he remedy the intemperance of the flesh with taking a wife, than if he defile both his body and soul with whoredom.

But they still enforce the matter, and go about to show that such a vow was used in the Apostles' time: because Paul says that the widows which having been once received into the public ministry did marry, denied their first faith. But I do not deny to them, that the widows, which bound themselves and their services to the Church, did therewith also take upon them the bond of continual unmarried life: not because they reposed any religion therein as it afterward began to be used: but because they could not bear that office but being at their own liberty and loose from the yoke of marriage. But if, when they had once given their faith, they looked back to new marriages, what was this else but to shake off the calling of God? Therefore it is no marvel that with such desires he says that they wax wanton against Christ. Afterward to amplify the matter he says, that they do so not perform that which they have promised to the Church, that they do also break and make void their first faith given in Baptism: in which this is comprehended, that every man should answer his calling. Unless perhaps you had rather understand it thus, that having as it were lost all shame they did from there forth cast away all care of honesty, did give forth themselves to all wantonness and unchastity, and did in licentious and dissolute life resemble nothing less than Christian women: which sense I like very well. Therefore we answer, that those widows which were then received to public ministry, did lay upon themselves a bond to continue unmarried: if they afterward married, we easily perceive that that happened to them which Paul speaks of, that casting away shame they became more wanton than became Christian women. That so they not only sinned, in breaking their faith given to the Church, but swerved from the common law of godly women. But first I deny that they did profess unmarried life for any other reason, but because marriage agreed not with that ministry which they took in hand: and I deny that they did bind themselves at all to single life, but so far as the necessity of their vocation did bear. Again I do not grant that they were so bound, but that it was then also better for them to marry, than either to be troubled with the prickings of the flesh, or to fall into any uncleanness. Thirdly I say that that age is appointed of Paul, which is commonly out of danger: specially since he commands them only to be chosen, which contented with one marriage have already shown a token of their continence. And we do for no other reason disallow that vow of unmarried life, but because it is both wrongfully taken for a service of God, and it is rashly vowed of them to whom power of continence is not given.

But how was it lawful to draw this place of Paul to nuns? For there were created deaconesses, not to delight God with singing and with mumbling not understood, and live the rest of their time idle: but that they should execute public ministry toward the poor, that they should with all study, earnestness, and diligence, endeavor themselves to the duties of charity. They did not vow unmarried life, to yield thereby any worship to God because they abstained from marriage: but only because they were thereby the more unencumbered to execute their office. Finally they did not vow it, either in the beginning of their youth, or yet in the middle of their flowing age, that they might afterward learn too late by experience into how great a headlong downfall they had thrown themselves: but when they seemed to have passed all danger, then they vowed a no less safe than holy vow. But (not to enforce the first two points) I say it was not lawful to have women received to vow continence before the age of 60 years: inasmuch as the Apostle admits only women of 60 years old, and commands the younger to marry and bring forth children. Therefore neither that release made of 12 years, and then 20, and afterward of 30 years can be any way excused: and much less is it tolerable, that poor maids, before that they can by age know themselves, or have any experience of themselves, are not only trained by fraud, but constrained by force and threatenings to put on those cursed snares. I will not tarry upon confuting the other two vows. Only this I say: besides this that they be entangled with not a few superstitions, (as the matter is nowadays) they seem to be made to this purpose, that they which vow them should mock both God and men. But lest we should seem too maliciously to shake up every small parcel, we will be content with that general confutation which is set above.

What manner of vows are lawful and acceptable to God, I think is sufficiently declared. Yet because sometimes unskillful and fearful consciences, even when they dislike or disallow any vow, do nevertheless doubt of the binding, and are grievously tormented, when they both dread to break their faith given to God, and on the other side they fear lest they should more sin in keeping it: here they are to be helped, that they may free themselves out of this distress. But, to take away all doubt at once: I say that all vows being not lawful, nor rightly made, as they are nothing worth before God, so ought to be void to us. For if in contracts of men those promises only do bind, in which he with whom we contract would have us bound: it is an absurdity, that we should be driven to the keeping of those things which God does not require of us: especially since our works are no otherwise right, but when they please God, and when consciences have this testimony that they please him. For this remains certain, whatever is not of faith, is sin. By which Paul means, that the work which is taken in hand with doubting, is therefore faulty, because faith is the root of all good works, by which we are assured that they be acceptable to God. Therefore if it be lawful for a Christian man to go about nothing without this assurance: if by fault of ignorance they have taken anything in hand, why should they not afterward give it over when they be delivered from errors. Since vows unadvisedly made are such, they do not only nothing bind, but are necessarily to be undone. Indeed what if they are not only nothing esteemed, but also are abominable in the sight of God, as is shown above? It is needless to discourse any longer of a matter not needful. This one argument seems to me to be enough to pacify godly consciences and deliver them from all doubt: that whatever works do not flow out of the pure fountain and be not directed to the lawful end, are refused of God: and so refused that he no less forbids us to go forward in them, than to begin them. For hereupon follows, that those vows which proceed of error and superstition, are both of no value before God, and to be forsaken by us.

Moreover he that shall know this solution, shall have wherewith he may defend against the slanders of the wicked, them that depart from monasticism to some honest kind of life. They are grievously accused of breach of faith and perjury, because they have broken (as it is commonly thought) the insoluble bond by which they were bound to God and to the Church. But I say that there was no bond, where God does abrogate that which man confirms. Moreover, admitting that they were bound, when they were held entangled with not knowing of God and with error: now since they are enlightened with the knowledge of the truth, I say that they are therewith free by the grace of Christ. For if the cross of Christ has so great effectiveness, that it frees us from the curse of the law of God, with which we were held bound, how much more shall it deliver us from foreign bonds, which are nothing but the snaring nets of Satan? To whoever therefore Christ shines with the light of his Gospel, it is no doubt that he frees them from all snares which they had put upon themselves by superstition. However they want not yet another defense, if they were not fit to live unmarried. For if an impossible vow be a sure destruction of the soul, whom the Lord would have saved and not destroyed: it follows that we ought not to continue therein. But how impossible is the vow of continence to them that are not endowed with a singular gift, we have already taught, and experience speaks it though I hold my peace. For neither is it unknown with how great filthiness almost all monasteries do swarm. And if any of them seem more honest, and more modest than the rest: yet they are not therefore chaste because they suppress and keep in the fault of unchastity. So verily God does with horrible examples take vengeance on the boldness of men, which forgetting their own weakness, do against nature covet that which is denied them, and despising the remedies which the Lord had given them at hand, do trust that they can with stubbornness and obstinacy overcome the disease of incontinence. For what else shall we call it but stubbornness, when one being warned that he needs marriage, and that the same is given him of the Lord for a remedy, does not only despise it, but also binds himself with an oath to the despising of it?

It is truly grievous that the church — for whom freedom was purchased at the immeasurable price of Christ's blood — has been so oppressed by cruel tyranny and nearly buried under a vast heap of traditions. Yet in the meantime, every person's private foolishness shows that God has, with very good reason, permitted so much to Satan and his agents. It was not enough, apparently, for people to neglect Christ's commands and bear whatever burdens false teachers laid on them — each person also had to create his own additional burdens and thereby dig his own pit to fall into. This happened as people competed to devise vows by which they could add even greater and more binding obligations on top of the ones they already bore. Since we have already shown that through the boldness of those who ruled under the title of pastors, God's worship was corrupted by unjust laws that ensnared helpless consciences, it is fitting here to consider a related evil — so that it becomes plain how the world, according to its own perverse inclination, has always used whatever means available to push away the helps that would bring it to God. To make it clearer how seriously harmful vows have been, readers should keep in mind the principles we established earlier. First, we taught that everything required for living a godly and holy life is contained in the law. We also taught that the Lord, in order to draw us away from devising new works, has enclosed the whole substance of righteousness in simple obedience to His will. If these things are true, it follows easily that all invented forms of worship we devise to earn God's favor are not acceptable to Him — however pleasing they may appear to us. And indeed, God Himself in many places not only openly rejects such worship but deeply abhors it. This raises the question of what to think about vows made beyond what God's word expressly commands — whether Christians may rightly make such vows, and how far such vows are binding. What people call a promise toward each other is, in relation to God, called a vow. When we make promises to people, we promise either what we think will please them or what we owe them by duty. Far greater care, therefore, is required in vows directed to God Himself, with whom we must deal with utmost seriousness. Superstition has in every age run wild in this area — people, without judgment or discernment, vowed to God whatever came into their minds or onto their lips. From this came the follies — indeed the monstrous absurdities — of the vows among the pagans, by which they so shamelessly mocked their gods. Would to God that Christians had not followed their example. They should not have — but we see that in certain eras nothing was more common than this wickedness: the people everywhere, despising God's law, burned with a reckless eagerness to vow whatever pleased them in their imagination. I will not press the point harshly or catalog all the ways and means in which people have offended here. But I thought it right to say this in passing, so it may be clear that our discussion of vows is not an unnecessary matter.

If we want to judge correctly which vows are lawful and which are wrongful, three things must be weighed: to whom the vow is made, who we are who make it, and with what intention we make it. The first consideration requires that we remember we are dealing with God — whose delight in obedience is so great that He pronounces all self-invented worship to be accursed, however fine and impressive it may appear to people. If all voluntary worship that we devise for ourselves without His command is abominable to God, then no worship can be acceptable to Him except what His word approves. Therefore let us not take such great liberty as to dare to vow to God something for which we have no warrant from His word about how He regards it. Paul's teaching that whatever is done without faith is sin applies to all actions — but it applies with special force when one's aim is directed straight toward God. For if we fall into error even in the smallest things (as Paul argues in the case of differences in food) where certainty of faith does not guide us — how much more restraint is required when we are attempting something of the greatest weight? Nothing ought to concern us more earnestly than the duties of religion. Therefore let this be the first rule in making vows: never vow anything until conscience has first firmly determined that it is not acting rashly. Conscience will be free from the danger of rashness when God goes before it — when, as it were, His word informs it of what is good and profitable to do.

The second consideration we mentioned requires that we assess our own strength, keep our calling in view, and not disregard the gift of freedom God has given us. One who vows what is beyond his power, or contrary to his calling, acts rashly. One who despises the generosity of God — by which He has appointed us as stewards over His gifts — acts ungratefully. When I say this, I do not mean that anything is so thoroughly within our own capability that we may confidently promise it to God from our own strength. It was rightly decreed at the Council of Orange that nothing is rightly vowed to God except what we have received from His hand, since everything offered to Him is His own gift in the first place. But since some things are given to us by God's goodness and others are withheld by His wise design, let every person — as Paul commands — consider the measure of grace given to him. My point here is simply that vows must be calibrated to the measure the Lord prescribes through His giving. If you reach beyond what He permits, you will pull yourself down by taking on too much. For example: when those conspirators mentioned in Acts vowed to eat nothing until Paul was killed — even if the plan had not been wicked, the rashness itself was inexcusable, since they made another man's life and death subject to their own power. So Jephthah suffered for his folly when in reckless haste he made a thoughtless vow. Among all these, the vow of celibacy holds the foremost place as an act of reckless arrogance. Priests, monks, and nuns, forgetting their own weakness, imagine themselves capable of maintaining celibacy throughout their entire lives. But by what oracle have they been assured that they will have the gift of chastity to the very end of the life they vow it for? They hear God's word concerning the universal condition of humanity: 'It is not good for man to be alone.' They know — and would to God they did not feel — that sin remaining in us is never without sharp and persistent stings. With what confidence do they dare to reject the general calling for their entire lives, when the gift of continence is more often granted for a limited season as circumstances require? In such stubbornness, let them not expect God to be their helper — let them rather remember what is written: 'You shall not tempt the Lord your God.' And to tempt God is to strive against the nature He placed in us and to despise the gifts He has given as though they had nothing to do with us. Not only do they do this, but they dare to call marriage itself — which God did not think beneath His majesty to institute, which He has declared honorable among all people, which Christ our Lord sanctified with His presence, and which He honored with His first miracle — they dare to call it defilement, and do so only to exalt their brand of celibacy with extravagant praise. As though they themselves did not plainly demonstrate in their own lives that being unmarried is one thing, and being chaste is quite another. Yet they most shamelessly call their manner of life angelic — doing a profound injustice to the angels of God by comparing them with fornicators, adulterers, and things far worse and more vile. No arguments are needed here — the thing itself is a plain refutation. We see clearly with what terrible consequences the Lord commonly punishes such arrogance and such contempt for His gifts through self-reliance. I will spare the details of the more hidden sins — even what is already visible is more than enough. It is beyond dispute that we must vow nothing that would hinder us from fulfilling our calling. For example: if a householder should vow to abandon his wife and children and take on other burdens — or if a man suited for public office, when chosen, should vow to remain a private citizen. But what it means that our liberty must not be despised requires some clarification. Here is a brief explanation: since God has made us stewards of all things and has placed everything in subjection to us for our benefit, there is no reason to suppose it is acceptable to God when we bind ourselves in servitude to outward things that were meant to serve us. I say this because many seek the reputation of humility by entangling themselves in many observances — observances from which God has, for good reason, set us free. If we wish to avoid this danger, let us always remember that we must not depart from the order the Lord has established in the Christian church.

Now I come to the third point I mentioned: that the intention behind a vow matters greatly if it is to be acceptable to God. Since the Lord regards the heart and not the outward show, the very same action may please Him and be acceptable at one time, and deeply displease Him at another — depending on the purpose of the mind behind it. If you vow to abstain from wine as though there were some holiness in the abstinence itself, you are being superstitious. If you have some other legitimate purpose in mind, no one can rightly object. In my judgment, there are four proper ends to which vows may rightly be directed. For teaching purposes, I assign two of these to the past and two to the future. The vows relating to the past either testify to our thankfulness to God for benefits received, or they involve our own self-discipline as a response to offenses we have committed in seeking to avert His wrath. Let us call the first kind exercises of thanksgiving, and the second exercises of repentance. An example of the first kind is the tithe Jacob vowed if the Lord would bring him safely home from exile. Another example is the peace offerings that godly kings and commanders vowed to offer if they obtained victory in a just war, or when they were under great distress and the Lord delivered them. This is also the sense of all those passages in the Psalms that speak of vows. Such vows are still fitting for us today, whenever the Lord has delivered us from calamity, serious illness, or any other danger. At such times it is entirely appropriate for a godly person to offer a vowed gift to God as a solemn acknowledgment of His goodness — lest one appear ungrateful. One example is sufficient to illustrate the second kind. If someone has fallen into an offense through gluttony, nothing prevents him from temporarily giving up all rich food to discipline his excess — and he may add a vow to bind himself with a stronger obligation. I am not laying down a universal law for everyone who has similarly offended. I am only showing what is permissible for those who find such a vow personally beneficial. I therefore affirm such a vow as lawful, while at the same time leaving it as a matter of free choice.

The vows that look toward the future serve partly — as we have already said — to make us more watchful, and partly to spur us forward in our duty. A person may recognize that he is so prone to a certain vice that in something otherwise not wrong in itself, he cannot restrain himself from falling into sin. In that case, he does nothing inappropriate by temporarily cutting himself off from that thing through a vow. For example: if a man knows that a certain style of clothing is dangerous for him, and yet is strongly attracted to it — what could he do better than to put a bridle on himself, that is, to bind himself to abstain from it, thus freeing himself from the ongoing temptation? Likewise, if a person is forgetful or sluggish about necessary duties of godliness, why may he not by taking a vow both sharpen his memory and shake off his laziness? I grant that in both cases this is a somewhat childish form of discipline — but even as aids to weakness, they are not without benefit for those who are still raw and unformed in their faith. Therefore we may say that vows are lawful when they are directed to one of these ends — especially in outward matters — provided they are grounded in what God approves, fit with our calling, and are proportionate to the measure of grace God has given us.

It is now also not difficult to determine what should be thought of vows in general. There is one common vow of all the faithful — the vow made in baptism, which we confirm and as it were seal through catechism and participation in the Lord's Supper. For the sacraments are like documents by which the Lord conveys to us His mercy and thereby eternal life, while on our part we in return promise Him our obedience. The essence of this vow is this: that renouncing Satan, we give ourselves to God's service, to obey His holy commandments and not to follow the corrupt desires of our flesh. There can be no doubt that this vow, having the testimony of Scripture and being required of all of God's children, is both holy and beneficial for salvation. The fact that no one in this life renders the perfect obedience to the law that God requires does not change this. For since this form of covenant is part of the covenant of grace — which includes both the forgiveness of sins and the Spirit of sanctification — the promise we make there is joined with a plea for pardon and a request for help. In evaluating particular vows, the three earlier rules must be kept in mind, by which any vow can be safely weighed. Do not take my approval of certain vows as a commendation for making them daily. Though I would not presume to set a fixed rule about their number or frequency, if anyone follows my counsel, he will take on only sober, temporary vows. For if you frequently break forth in making many vows, all sense of reverence will wear away with repetition and you will drift into superstition. And if you bind yourself with a permanent vow, you will either suffer great pain and grief in breaking it, or you will grow weary over time and at some point allow yourself to breach it.

It is also plain how deeply the world has been possessed by superstition in this area in certain past ages. One man vowed to abstain from wine — as though abstaining from wine were in itself a form of worship acceptable to God. Another bound himself to fasting, another to abstaining from meat on certain days, imagining with vain belief that those days possessed a special holiness above others. And some things still more childish were vowed — and not by children. It was considered great wisdom to undertake vowed pilgrimages to holy sites, sometimes traveling the entire journey on foot, or with the body half naked, as though greater hardship would earn greater merit. All of these, and others like them — for which the world for a time burned with incredible enthusiasm — when examined by the rules we have set out above, will be found not only vain and trivial but full of manifest ungodliness. For however the flesh may judge, God abhors nothing more than invented worship. Added to this are the destructive and damnable beliefs that accompany such practices: hypocrites who perform these trifles imagine they have gained no small measure of righteousness; they place the whole substance of godliness in outward observances; and they look down on everyone who is less devoted to such things.

There is no point in cataloging every specific form. But since monastic vows are held in greater reverence — because they appear to have the approval of the church's general judgment — it is worth addressing them briefly. First, to prevent anyone from defending monasticism as it exists today based on long-standing custom, it should be noted that in ancient times the order of life in monasteries was very different. Those who were drawn to the most rigorous discipline and self-denial went there. The discipline the Spartans practiced under the laws of Lycurgus resembled what was practiced among the monks then — in fact, monastic discipline was considerably stricter. They slept on the ground. Their drink was water. Their food was bread, herbs, and roots. Their finest fare was oil and chickpeas. They abstained from all delicate food and bodily adornment. These things might seem exaggerated if they were not recorded by eyewitnesses such as Gregory Nazianzus, Basil, and Chrysostom. But through these disciplines they prepared themselves for more important responsibilities. For the monasteries of that time served as nurseries for the order of church ministers. The men just named are proof enough of this — all were raised in monasteries and called from there to the office of bishop — as were many other outstanding men of that era. Augustine also shows that in his day monasteries supplied clergy to the church. He writes to the monks of the island of Capraea: 'Brothers, we exhort you in the Lord to hold to your purpose and persevere to the end. And if at any time our mother the church requires your service, do not take it on with greedy pride, nor refuse it with flattering laziness, but obey God with a humble heart. Do not place your own peaceful leisure above the necessities of the church — to whose service, if no good men had been willing to give themselves in her labor, you would not have found where you could be spiritually born.' And to Aurelius: 'Both an occasion of falling is given to themselves, and a most serious wrong is done to the clergy, if those who have left the monastery are chosen for ordained service. For even from those who remain in the monastery, we take into the clergy only the most approved and best. Unless perhaps, as the common people say, a man is a bad fencer but a good fiddler — and so it might be jestingly said of us: he is a bad monk, but a good minister. It is much to be lamented if we exalt monks to such ruinous pride and think clergy worthy of such contempt — when sometimes even a good monk does not make a good minister if he has sufficient self-control but lacks the necessary learning.' From these passages it appears that godly men customarily used monastic discipline to prepare themselves for the governance of the church, so that they might take up so great an office more fittingly and with better preparation. Not all of them aimed at or achieved this end — since most were uneducated men — but those who were suited for it were selected.

But Augustine chiefly portrays the form of ancient monasticism in two places: in the book On the Manners of the Catholic Church, where he sets the holiness of that way of life against the slanders of the Manichaeans; and in another book entitled On the Work of Monks, where he reproves certain degenerate monks who had begun to corrupt the order. I will summarize what he says here, using his own words as closely as I can. 'Despising the enticements of this world,' he says, 'gathered into one most pure and holy life, they spend their time together, living in prayers, readings, and discussions — not puffed up with pride, not quarrelsome with stubbornness, not restless with envy.' 'No one possesses anything of his own. No one is a burden to anyone.' 'By working with their hands they earn what feeds the body without distracting the mind from God.' 'They hand their work to those they call deans.' 'Those deans, valuing nothing for themselves, carefully account for everything to one they call Father.' 'These Fathers — holy in conduct and excellent in learning, superior in everything — provide for those they call their children without any pride, exercising great authority in commanding and receiving great willingness in being obeyed.' 'At the very last hour of the day, all come together from their separate dwellings, still fasting, to hear that Father. At least three thousand men gather to each of these Fathers' — he is speaking chiefly of Egypt and the East. 'Then they refresh their bodies with only what is sufficient for life and health, each person restraining himself from even the things available, eating sparingly of plain food.' 'So they abstain not only from meat and wine, as far as is needed to control their desires, but also from the things that more greedily provoke appetite, however much such things may seem cleaner to others — under the cover of which the shameful craving for elaborate food, though not involving meat, is foolishly and foully defended.' 'Whatever remains above necessary sustenance — and much often remains both from their labor and their frugal eating — is distributed to the poor with more care than it was gathered by those who distribute it.' 'For they do not labor in order to accumulate — they do everything they can to ensure that whatever they have in abundance does not remain with them.' He then recounts hardships of which he himself had witnessed examples at Milan and elsewhere: 'In all of this, no one is forced to anything he cannot bear. No one is required to do what he refuses. Nor is he condemned by the others for acknowledging his own weakness in following their way — for they remember how greatly charity is commended, and they remember that to the pure all things are pure.' 'Therefore all their diligence is directed not to treating certain foods as unclean, but to subduing desire and maintaining love for one another.' 'They remember: food for the stomach, and the stomach for food.' 'Yet many who are strong do abstain for the sake of the weak — not that they need to do so, but because it pleases them to sustain themselves on simpler, plainer food.' 'Therefore they themselves, who when healthy choose to abstain, when ill take food without scruple if their health requires it.' 'Many drink no wine, yet do not think themselves polluted by it. They gently see to it that the weaker receive it, and those who cannot recover health without it — and those who foolishly refuse it they brotherly admonish, lest they make themselves weaker by vain superstition rather than holier.' 'So they diligently exercise godliness, but they know that physical exercise is of limited benefit.' 'Charity is kept above everything else. Diet, speech, clothing, and expression are all shaped to serve charity. They meet and unite in one love. To offend it is counted as grievous as offending God. If anyone resists charity, he is cast out and avoided. If anyone offends charity, he is not suffered to remain a single day.' Since in these words, as in a painted portrait, this holy man appears to have depicted what monastic life was like in ancient times — though the passage is somewhat long — I was content to include it here. For I saw that I would have been even more lengthy had I gathered the same material from various sources, however much I aimed at brevity.

But my purpose here is not to treat the whole subject — only to point out briefly what kind of monks the ancient church had, and what the monastic profession was at that time, so that thoughtful readers may judge by comparison what those look like who appeal to antiquity to defend present-day monasticism. When Augustine depicts for us a holy and genuine monasticism, he requires the complete absence of rigorous enforcement of things the word of the Lord leaves to our freedom. But there is nothing today more harshly enforced than precisely these things. They treat it as an unforgivable offense if anyone departs even slightly from the prescribed rules concerning the color or cut of the habit, the kind of food, or other trivial and hollow ceremonies. Augustine firmly maintains that it is wrong for monks to live in idleness at others' expense. He denies that any well-ordered monastery in his day practiced this. Our monks make idleness the chief substance of their holiness. For if you take away their idleness, where is the contemplative life by which they boast that they surpass all other people and approach the angels? In the end, Augustine demands a monasticism that is nothing other than a practice and support for the duties of godliness commended to all Christians. And when he makes charity the chief — indeed almost the only — rule of that life, does anyone think he is praising a private alliance by which a few men, bound together among themselves, are cut off from the whole body of the church? On the contrary — he wants monks to give light to others by their example and thereby maintain the unity of the church. In both of these respects, present-day monasticism differs so greatly that one can scarcely find anything more unlike it — I will not even say contrary. For our monks, not content with the godliness to which Christ commands all His people to apply themselves continually, imagine some new kind of godliness, through the pursuit of which they aim to be more perfect than others.

If they deny this, I would like to know why they give to their own order alone the title of perfection and deny it to all the callings of God. I am not unaware of their clever reply: that their order is not called perfect because it contains perfection within it, but because it is the best path for attaining perfection. When they want to impress the crowd, when they want to ensnare naive and unwary young people, when they want to defend their privileges, when they want to elevate their own dignity at others' expense — then they boast that they are in the state of perfection. When they are pressed so hard they can no longer defend this vain arrogance, they retreat to the escape hatch: they have not yet attained perfection, but they are in the state most conducive to aspiring toward it above others. Meanwhile, the popular admiration remains: as though the monastic life alone were angelic, perfect, and free from all fault. By this pretense they do very profitable business — but this 'modesty' lies buried in a few books. Who cannot see that this is an intolerable mockery? But let us reason with them as though they claimed nothing more for their profession than that it is a state of striving toward perfection. Even in giving it this name, they mark it out with a special distinction from other ways of life. Who can accept that such great honor is given to an institution that is nowhere approved by even a single word of Scripture — while at the same time, all the callings of God, which He not only commanded but commended with remarkable words of praise, are considered by comparison to be unworthy? What great wrong is done to God when some newly invented thing is preferred above all the ways of life He Himself has established and praised with His own testimony?

But let them say my earlier charge is a slander — that they are not content with the rule God has prescribed. Even if I say nothing, they accuse themselves more than adequately. For they openly teach that they take upon themselves a greater burden than Christ laid on all His people — specifically, they promise to keep the 'counsels of the Gospel' concerning loving enemies, not seeking revenge, not swearing, and the like, to which they claim ordinary Christians are not generally bound. On what ancient authority do they rely for this? This idea never entered the minds of any of the ancient fathers. They all declare with one voice that there was not a single word uttered by Christ that ought not to be necessarily obeyed by all. Without hesitation they teach everywhere that the very things these clever interpreters dismiss as merely counsel were in fact commandments. But since we have already shown that this is a most pestilent error, it is enough here to note briefly that present-day monasticism is built on the very opinion all godly people should rightly abhor — namely, the idea that there is some more perfect rule of life than the common rule God has given to the whole church. Whatever is built on that foundation cannot be anything but abominable.

But they bring another proof of their perfection, which they consider their strongest argument. The Lord said to the young man who asked about the perfection of righteousness: 'If you wish to be perfect, sell all that you have and give it to the poor.' I will not debate here whether they actually do this — let it be granted for now. They therefore boast that they are made perfect by renouncing all their possessions. But if perfection consists in this, what does Paul mean when he teaches that one who gives all his goods to the poor but has no love is nothing? What kind of perfection is this, which if love is absent amounts to nothing? They must respond here that renunciation is indeed the chief, but not the only, work of perfection. But Paul contradicts them again — he does not hesitate to call love the bond of perfection, entirely without any such renunciation. Since it is certain that there is no disagreement between the Master and His apostle, and since Paul plainly denies that human perfection consists in renouncing all possessions and affirms that perfection can exist without it — we need to examine what Christ's words actually mean. The sense will not be obscure if we weigh — as we always should in all of Christ's teaching — to whom the words are addressed. A young man asks what works will bring him into eternal life. Christ, since the question is about works, rightly points him to the law — for the law is the way of eternal life in itself, and is unable to save us only because of our own perverseness. By this answer Christ showed that He teaches no other rule for ordering life than what had long been taught in the law of the Lord — thereby both honoring the law of God as the doctrine of perfect righteousness, and answering slanders that He was drawing people away from the law with some new rule. The young man — not an evil person, but puffed up with vain confidence — answered that he had kept all the commandments from his youth. He was certainly infinitely far from what he boasted of having attained. Yet if his boast had been true, he would have lacked nothing for the highest perfection — for the law contains perfect righteousness in itself, as shown by the fact that keeping it is called the way of eternal salvation. To teach him how little he had actually progressed in the righteousness he so boldly claimed to have fulfilled, it was useful to expose a particular fault of his. He was rich, and his heart was fastened on his wealth. Since he did not feel this hidden wound, Christ lanced it. 'Go,' He said, 'sell all that you have.' Had he been as diligent a keeper of the law as he imagined, he would not have gone away sad at hearing this. For whoever loves God with his whole heart regards anything that competes with that love not merely as garbage but as something destructive. Therefore when Christ commands this greedy rich man to give up all his possessions, it is equivalent to commanding an ambitious man to give up his honors, a pleasure-lover to give up his indulgences, and an unchaste man to give up the tools of his lust. This is how consciences that feel no response to general admonition must be brought to feel the specific pain of their own particular sin. They are therefore wrong to draw this particular case into a general principle — as though Christ were making human perfection consist in renouncing possessions — when His only aim was to drive the young man who thought too highly of himself to recognize his own wound, so he might see that he was still far from the perfect obedience to the law he falsely claimed to have rendered. I grant that some of the fathers misunderstood this passage, and that from it grew a longing for voluntary poverty, so that only those were thought blessed who, renouncing all earthly things, dedicated themselves naked to Christ. But I trust that all fair-minded and peaceable readers will be satisfied with this explanation and will no longer doubt what Christ meant. In any case, the fathers' intention was nothing like the system later constructed by the hooded scholastics — a system designed to create a double Christianity. For that sacrilege-filled doctrine had not yet been born which compares the monastic profession to baptism and openly declares it a form of second baptism. Who can doubt that the fathers would have detested this blasphemy with their whole hearts? Now, as for that last point Augustine makes concerning the ancient monks — that they devoted themselves entirely to love — need I say in words how far removed present monasticism is from this? The very thing itself declares it: all who enter monasteries depart from the church. Why? Do they not separate themselves from the lawful fellowship of the faithful by taking upon themselves a private ministry and separate administration of the sacraments? If this is not dissolving the communion of the church, what is? And — to follow the comparison I began and bring it to a conclusion — what do they have in common with the ancient monks in this regard? The ancient monks, though they lived apart from other people, did not have a separate church. They shared the sacraments with others. They appeared at the public gatherings. They were part of the congregation. What have these present monks done by erecting their own private altars except break the bond of unity? They have both excommunicated themselves from the whole body of the church and despised the ordinary ministry through which the Lord willed peace and love to be maintained among His people. Therefore however many monastic orders there are today, I say there are that many assemblies of schismatics — ones that, by disrupting the order of the church, have cut themselves off from the lawful fellowship of the faithful. And lest this departure be hidden, they have given themselves various sectarian names. They were not even ashamed to boast of something that Paul denounces with the strongest possible language. Or perhaps we think that Christ was divided among the Corinthians when one gloried in one teacher and another in another — and that now no injury is done to Christ when, instead of being called Christians, some are called Benedictines, Franciscans, Dominicans — and they are so called precisely because, eager to be set apart from the common body of Christians, they take these titles to themselves with great pride as the designation of their religion.

The differences I have rehearsed between the ancient monks and the monks of our era are not differences in personal behavior — they are differences in the profession itself. Readers should therefore understand that I have been speaking about monasticism rather than about individual monks, and have addressed not faults that cling to a few people's lives but faults that cannot be separated from the very form of the institution itself. But what difference is there in their conduct — why should I need to catalog that in detail? This much is certain: there is no class of people more defiled by every kind of vice. Nowhere are factions, hatreds, party loyalties, and ambitions more intense than among them. In a few monasteries they live chastely — if it can even be called chastity when lust is suppressed only enough that it cannot be openly spoken of. Yet one will scarcely find one monastery in ten that is more of a holy house of chastity than a brothel. But what restraint is there in their diet? Pigs in their pens are fed no differently. But lest they complain that I treat them too harshly, I will go no further. Yet in these few things I have touched on, anyone who knows the reality will confess that nothing has been said in an exaggerated manner. Even in Augustine's day — when by his testimony monks excelled in great purity — he complains about the many vagabonds who, through evil schemes and deceptions, cheated simple people out of their money; who carried relics of martyrs around for filthy profit; who displayed the bones of random dead people in place of martyrs' relics; and who through many such wicked practices brought disgrace on the order. As he reports having seen no better men than those who truly benefited from monastic life, so he laments having seen no worse men than those who failed to benefit from it. What would he say if today he saw all monasteries swelling — nearly bursting — with so many desperate vices? I say nothing but what is well known to everyone. Yet this reproach does not apply to absolutely everyone without exception. Just as no rule and discipline of holy living in monasteries has ever been so perfectly established that no corrupt exceptions remained: so I am not saying that monks have so completely departed from their holy origins that there are no good men at all among them. But those good men lie hidden — few and scattered in that vast multitude of wicked men. They are not merely overlooked; they are mocked and sometimes cruelly mistreated by others who — as the Milesian proverb goes — believe there should be no place for any honest person among them.

By this comparison of ancient and present-day monasticism, I trust I have accomplished my purpose: it is plain that our hooded monks falsely invoke the example of the early church to defend their profession, since they differ from the early monks no less than apes differ from people. At the same time, I do not hesitate to say that even in that ancient form that Augustine commends, there are things that do not fully please me. I grant that they were not superstitious in enforcing outward exercises of harsh physical discipline — but I say that an excessive zeal and misguided eagerness was not absent. It is a fine thing to renounce possessions and be free from all earthly anxiety. But God values more highly the godly governance of a household, where a holy head of family — free from greed, ambition, and the other desires of the flesh — labors in a definite calling to serve God. It is a fine thing to practice philosophy in the wilderness, far from human society. But it is not consistent with Christian love to flee into solitude as though out of hatred for other people — and besides, to abandon the duties the Lord has chiefly commanded. Even if we were to grant that there was no other fault in that ancient way of life, this alone was no small evil: it brought an unprofitable and dangerous example into the church.

Let us now examine what kind of vows monks make when they are professed into this noble order. First, since their intention is to establish a new, invented form of worship to earn God's favor, I conclude from what has been said above that whatever they vow is abominable before God. Second, without any regard for God's calling and without His approval, they devise for themselves a way of life that pleases themselves. I say this is rash and therefore unlawful — because their conscience has no ground on which to stand before God, and whatever is not of faith is sin. Furthermore, when they bind themselves to the many perverse and wicked forms of worship that today's monasticism contains, I declare they are consecrated not to God but to the devil. After all, why was the prophet able to say that the Israelites offered their children to demons and not to God — simply because they had corrupted the true worship of God with profane ceremonies? May we not say the same of monks, who by putting on the cowl place upon themselves a snare of a thousand wicked superstitions? Now what are these vows? They promise God perpetual virginity, as though they had made a bargain with Him beforehand to exempt them from needing marriage. They may argue that they make this vow only in trust in God's grace — but since God has declared that He does not give this gift to everyone, it is not within our power to presume upon a special gift. Let those who have it use it. If at any time they feel the stirrings of the flesh, let them flee to His help, by whose power alone they can resist. If they cannot overcome it, let them not despise the remedy He offers. For those to whom the power of continence is denied are called by God's certain word to marriage. By continence I mean not merely keeping the body from physical immorality, but keeping the mind from an unclean inward desire — for Paul commands us to avoid not only outward indecency but also the burning of the mind. They say this has been observed from the most ancient times — that those who wished to dedicate themselves wholly to the Lord bound themselves by a vow of continence. I grant that this practice is indeed ancient — but I do not grant that that era was so free from fault that everything done then must be taken as a rule. And little by little a merciless severity crept in, allowing no room for repentance after such a vow was made. This is evident from Cyprian: 'If virgins have in faith dedicated themselves to God, let them continue modestly and chastely without deception. Being strong and steadfast, let them look forward to the reward of virginity. But if they will not or cannot continue, it is better for them to marry than to fall into the fire through their desires.' What insults would they hurl at anyone today who would temper the vow of continence with such equity? They have departed far from that ancient spirit — refusing not only any moderation or allowance for those unable to keep their vow, but openly declaring that a person sins more grievously by remedying the weakness of the flesh through marriage than by defiling both body and soul through fornication.

They press the matter further, however, and attempt to show that such a vow was in use in the apostles' time — pointing to Paul's statement that widows who, after being received into the public ministry, remarried, had denied their first faith. But I do not deny that the widows who bound themselves and their service to the church thereby also took on the obligation of permanent celibacy — not because they placed any religious value in it as later became the practice, but because they could not bear that office while bound by the yoke of marriage. But if, after having once given their pledge, they looked back toward new marriages, what was this but abandoning the calling of God? It is no wonder, then, that Paul says that through such desires they were growing wanton against Christ. He further amplifies the point by saying they not only fail to fulfill what they have promised to the church, but also break and nullify their first faith given in baptism — which includes the commitment that each person should answer his calling. Or perhaps you prefer to understand it this way: that having lost all sense of shame, they had at that point cast aside all care for honorable conduct and given themselves over to all manner of wantonness and unchastity, living in a licentious and dissolute manner utterly unlike Christian women — an interpretation I find quite plausible. Therefore my answer is this: those widows who were then received into public ministry did place upon themselves an obligation to remain unmarried. If they afterward married, we can readily see that what Paul describes happened to them — that casting aside shame they became more wanton than became Christian women — and that in doing so they not only broke their pledge to the church but also departed from the common standard of godly women. But first, I deny that they professed celibacy for any other reason than that marriage was incompatible with the ministry they had undertaken. I deny that they bound themselves to a single life for any reason beyond what the necessity of their calling required. Second, I do not grant that they were so bound that it was not still better for them to marry, rather than be tormented by the stirrings of the flesh or fall into any kind of uncleanness. Third, Paul specifies an age at which women are generally past such danger — and in any case commands that only those be chosen who, having been married once, have already given evidence of their self-restraint. We disapprove of this vow of celibacy for no other reason than that it is both wrongfully treated as an act of service to God and rashly vowed by those who have not been given the gift of continence.

But how could this passage from Paul rightly be applied to nuns? The deaconesses were created not to entertain God with singing and muttered prayers no one could understand and then spend the rest of their lives in idleness — but to carry out public ministry to the poor, applying themselves with all earnestness and diligence to the duties of love. They did not vow celibacy in order to offer God a form of worship through abstaining from marriage — but only because celibacy made them less encumbered in fulfilling their responsibilities. And they did not vow it at the beginning of their youth or even in the middle of their active years, so that they would only learn too late, by experience, into what headlong ruin they had thrown themselves. Rather, when they had passed what appeared to be all danger — then they made a vow that was as prudent as it was holy. But without even pressing the first two points, I say it was not permissible to receive women to a vow of celibacy before the age of sixty — since the apostle accepts only women of sixty years old and commands the younger to marry and have children. Therefore neither the later lowerings of this threshold — to forty years, then twenty, then thirty — can be excused in any way. Still less tolerable is the practice of drawing poor young girls, before they have any knowledge of themselves by age or experience, not merely by deception but by force and threats, into putting on those wretched snares. I will not pause to refute the other two vows in detail. This much I will say: beyond being entangled with no small number of superstitions as things now stand, they appear designed so that those who make them may mock both God and people. But rather than appear too eager to examine every small detail with malice, we will be content with the general refutation already given above.

I believe it has been sufficiently established what kinds of vows are lawful and acceptable to God. Yet because uninformed and anxious consciences sometimes, even when they dislike or disapprove of a vow, still doubt whether they are bound by it — and are greatly tormented, fearing on the one hand to break their word to God and on the other fearing they will sin further by keeping it — they need help so they can free themselves from this distress. To remove all doubt at once: I say that all vows that are not lawful and rightly made are worthless before God and should therefore be treated as void by us. For if in human contracts only those promises bind that the contracting party actually wanted us to be bound by — then it is absurd to be compelled to keep things God does not require of us. This is especially so since our actions are only right when they please God and when our consciences have that testimony. For this remains certain: whatever is not of faith is sin. By this Paul means that a work undertaken with doubt is therefore faulty — because faith is the root of all good works, by which we are assured they are acceptable to God. Therefore if a Christian must not undertake anything without this assurance, and if by ignorance he has taken something on — why may he not give it up when he is delivered from error? Since vows rashly made are of this kind, they not only bind in no way but must necessarily be abandoned. And what if they are not merely worthless but actually abominable in God's sight, as has been shown above? There is no need to discuss the matter further. This one argument seems sufficient to quiet godly consciences and free them from all doubt: that whatever works do not flow from a pure source and are not directed to a lawful end are rejected by God — and so rejected that He forbids us to continue in them no less than to begin them. From this it follows that vows proceeding from error and superstition are both void before God and are to be abandoned by us.

Furthermore, one who understands this solution will have the means to defend against the charges of wicked people those who leave monasticism for an honest way of life. Such people are grievously accused of faithlessness and perjury, because they have broken what is commonly thought to be an unbreakable bond they made to God and the church. But I say there was no bond at all, since God himself nullifies what people confirm in such cases. Moreover, even if they were bound when they were ensnared in ignorance of God and in error — now that they have been enlightened by the knowledge of truth, I say they are thereby freed by the grace of Christ. For if the cross of Christ has such power that it frees us from the curse of God's own law, by which we were bound, how much more will it deliver us from foreign bonds that are nothing but Satan's snaring nets? To everyone, therefore, on whom Christ shines with the light of His Gospel — there is no doubt that He frees them from all the snares they had placed on themselves through superstition. Yet they have another defense as well, if they are not suited for celibacy. For if an impossible vow leads to the certain destruction of the soul — when the Lord wills us to be saved, not destroyed — then we must not continue in it. How impossible the vow of continence is for those who have not been given the special gift of it, we have already taught — and experience speaks plainly even if I say nothing. For it is well known with what filthiness nearly all monasteries swarm. And if some among them appear more decent and restrained than others — they are not thereby chaste, for they merely suppress and conceal the fault of unchastity. So indeed does God punish with terrible examples the arrogance of those who, forgetting their own weakness, covet against nature what has been denied them, and despising the remedies the Lord has placed readily at hand, trust that by sheer stubbornness and willpower they can overcome the disease of incontinence. For what else shall we call it but stubbornness — when a person, warned that he needs marriage and that God has given it to him as a remedy, not only despises it but even binds himself by oath to reject it?