objective ( finis) necessitates those things which lead to that end, and since performance is the end of the office of preaching, the person who assumes this office is obliged to execute it properly. Proper execution is impossible, however, unless there is an adequate disposition of life and learning on the part of the preacher. The preacher, therefore, must have sufficient learning for his teaching. Anyone who neglects such diligent preparation sins, anyone who despises it sins more gravely, and anyone who lazily and thoughtlessly assumes the office sins most gravely. To hold the office without performing it is of no value and ambitious, to perform it without the right disposition is presumptuous, to be unwilling to acquire that disposition is idle and slothful, to carry out the activity without the proper disposition is thoughtless and dangerous, whereas to neglect and contemn the performance of the office and conceal one’s talent is damnable and a great loss. Raymond’s comments are absolutely typical of his time.
Moreover, the schoolmen clearly defined the kind of knowledge necessary for the preacher. He should not impose scholastic subtleties on his audience; indeed, academic theology and pastoral theology were firmly distinguished. St. Thomas Aquinas speaks of the “doctrine of preaching, which pertains to prelates,” as opposed to “scholastic doctrine,” with which prelates do “not greatly concern themselves.”9 According to the vita which Bernard Gui published shortly after Aquinas’s canonization (1323–25), the angelic doctor put this theory into practice: “To the ordinary faithful he spoke the word of God with singular grace and power, without indulging in far-fetched-reasoning or the vanities of worldly wisdom or in the sort of language that serves rather to tickle the curiosity of a congregation than do it any real good.” In his sermons, Gui continues, Aquinas always used the vernacular; “subtleties he kept for the schools” (note the assumption that subtleties do not belong in the vernacular).10 Roger Bacon (who entered the Franciscan order at Oxford probably around 1257) made the same point in a characteristically combative way by declaring that it is the job not of the academic theologians but of the prelati to explain the articles of faith and morals to the people and to preach to them. “Indeed,” he declares, “we know for certain and see everywhere that one simple brother, who never heard a hundred theology lectures, [or] if he heard them still did not care, preaches incomparably better than the greatest masters of theology.”11 Another way to make the same point was to distinguish between two fundamental kinds of theological teaching, one confined to the élite clergy and the other deemed appropriate (by that clergy) to the populace at large. Hence Bernard Gui’s remark that “to the people” St. Thomas “gave solid moral instruction suited to their capacity; he knew that a teacher must always suit his style to his audience.”12
In sum, to preach was to address oneself directly and publicly to a congregation in order to instruct its members in the basics of Christianity and to encourage them to act well; it implied a “prelacy” in the sense of a cure of souls.13 The teaching of academic theology, on the other hand, did not have as its end the moral improvement of the listeners, but rather their acquisition of knowledge. Hence, a quaestio included in Thomas of Chobham’s Summa de arte praedicandi14 can state that, although sinners should not preach, they may be permitted to “read” (i.e., lecture on) the sacred page.15 Thomas argues that the preacher, because of his office, is bound to the cure of souls, and therefore he owes his flock his devotion. A lecturer or master in a school, by contrast, is not responsible for the cure of the souls of his audience. Therefore, if he is a sinner, he is not depriving his listeners of anything because, in the first place, he does not owe them his devotion—and so in his lecturing activity he does not sin mortally. Furthermore, lecturing is not the purely spiritual work that preaching is; the officium lectoris is not primarily conducive to the cure of souls but rather to the instruction of the students of some science. Here the roles of the praedicator and the lector are conceived of as being distinct, each office having its special procedures and objectives.
The issues relating to the personal character of the preacher and the attributes (conditiones) which he should possess were much more problematic and produced a rich harvest of quodlibets. In order to catch something of the flavor of those debates we may turn to Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, MS Lat. 3804A, a collection of notes made by a student at the University of Paris around 1240–50.16 Here are some of the subjects being lectured on at that time, which formed part of the education of the budding preacher:
Whether or not it is sinful to preach with temporal reward as a secondary consideration.
Whether or not it is sinful to preach in a state of mortal sin, having full awareness of that fact.
Whether or not it is sinful to fail to practise what one preaches.17
Whether or not a fat man (pinguis) sins by preaching about hunger.
Whether or not the mercenary man sins by preaching, and if he is to be valued and tolerated.
Whether or not the preacher who knows that he will scandalize everyone by his preaching, acts badly by preaching to them.
Whether or not vainglory, which is a venial sin, deforms preaching, and makes it a venial sin.
The Pardoner’s implicit quaestio, whether or not a sinful preacher can perform a proper act of preaching, is very much at home in this company of quodlibets, its terms of reference being similar or even identical. It is this intellectual context of scholastic debate, as instigated by the Paris schools, reflected in preacher’s aids and manuals, and exacerbated by the Lollard controversies, in which many of the problems raised by the Pardoner originated and essentially belong. In order to define the common parameters more exactly we may briefly examine three discussions which have been preserved in fuller form than those recorded fragmentarily in the student’s notebook.
The Sinful Preacher: Secrecy, Scandal, and Skill
The first is by the Carmelite theologian Gerard of Bologna, who in 1295 considered the question, is it better to preach and do the opposite of what you preach, than to be silent?18 After all, man learns better by example than by word. Gerard is adamant that, in absolute terms and with regard to the lesser evil, it is better that an evil preacher should be silent. The act of preaching is indecent in one who acts in a manner contrary to his teaching, and to preach in this way is presumptuous. But what of the person, such as a bishop or curate, who ex officio has the duty of preaching? This is a very difficult matter, Gerard declares, because such people are expected to preach and yet, if they live wicked lives, they preach indecently and unlawfully. In the Cura pastoralis we read that any man who keeps divine doctrine to himself is accursed, yet elsewhere in the same work St. Gregory attacks those who “investigate spiritual precepts with shrewd diligence, but in the life they live trample on what they have penetrated by their understanding,” thereby polluting the clear water of truth for their flocks.19 It appears from this, says Gerard, obviously relishing the puzzle, that in such a case it is bad to preach and it is also bad to be silent.
Gerard attempts to find a way out of the difficulty by making a distinction according to whether the preacher’s sin is notorious or secret. If the sin is unknown to the listeners, and they actually want preaching and are willing to listen, then it is better, or at least less evil, to preach than to be silent, since the audience is not scandalized or provoked to sin, being ignorant of the preacher’s sin. On the other hand, this action seems definitely bad in as much as the preacher is not rightly and reverently teaching the word of God, such teaching requiring a good life and good works of the preacher. If, the preacher’s sin being concealed, the people do not greatly require preaching, it is better, or less evil, to be silent because in this way no offense is given. Similarly, if the preacher’s sin is public knowledge, and the people do not want his preaching or are unwilling to hear it, then silence is the best policy. But if the sin is public knowledge and the people want preaching and are willing to listen, then it is difficult to see which is the best course of action and which is the worse. That such
