defined in terms of a statement or action which provides the occasion for the ruin of others. Because the audience condemns a preacher of this kind his preaching does not profit them.20 According to St. Gregory, “No one does more harm in the Church than he who, having taken the title or rank of holiness, acts evilly.”21 Jerome’s attack on those who fail to practice what they preach is then cited. It is clear, therefore, that if someone’s life is despised his preaching will consequently be condemned, as Gregory says. Yet, continues Gerard, hammering home the point once more, it is also evil that such a preacher should be silent because he has the pastoral care of the people and is supposed to teach them, especially since they want preaching and are willing to listen. The obvious solution, of course, is that the sinner in question should renounce his evil life and thus preach in the appropriate manner. If this is not done, there is no obvious solution. This matter is difficult to determine in disputation, Gerard admits; the particular circumstances of place and time must be considered, and each case should be judged on its merits. But, in conclusion, he offers one general recommendation. If, all circumstances having been considered, it seems that the flock would come to greater peril through their preacher’s silence than through his preaching, then it would appear to be less evil for him to preach. If, however, the people would not suffer much from his silence, then perhaps it would be less evil to be silent and worse to preach.
Our second discussion, part of a quaestio included in Thomas of Chobham’s Summa de arte praedicandi, is of special interest because of its clear definition of the problem rather than for any solution it offers.22 The topic is, whether to preach in a state of mortal sin is itself a mortal sin or not. Three arguments are marshaled in favor of the proposition. It would seem that by no means should such a person preach, since scriptural authority condemns that kind of behavior. For example, in Psalm 49:16–17 God says to the wicked, “What right have you to recite my statutes, or take my covenant on your lips? For you hate discipline, and you cast my words behind you.” Second, since only the person who is without sin can cast the stone (as John 8:7 teaches), only the good man can cast the stone of preaching. Third, David, after his sin with Bathsheba, did not judge or teach until the prophet Nathan assured him that his sin had been forgiven (II Kings 12:13); hence no-one should preach until he knows that his sins have been forgiven by God. The first argument against the proposition is of particular interest to readers of the Pardoner’s Tale. Just as a man who is in a state of mortal sin may give alms and pray and do other good works, by the same token he can preach and direct the people to good works. Unfortunately, Thomas of Chobham fails to pursue the full implications of this startling yet apparently reasonable idea, being content to offer a version of an argument which we have seen Gerard of Bologna handle with far greater penetration. Distinctions are drawn between preaching ex officio and preaching in special circumstances, and between sins which are public knowledge and those which are secret. The sinner who, not required to preach by virtue of office, actually does so out of devotion or owing to the wish of another, does not sin by preaching, providing that his sinful state is concealed. If, however, his sin is manifest, then, irrespective of whether he is preaching ex officio or not, he sins mortally on account of the scandal he creates.
The implications of the above-mentioned disturbing idea that the sinful preacher is to be valued are, however, fully explored in our third and last major excursus, this being (in my view) the most substantial and challenging of all the thirteenth-century discussions relating to the officium praedicatoris. It forms part of the prologue to Henry of Ghent’s Summa quaestionum ordinariarum, first written circa 1275–76 and edited toward the end of his career, in 1289. Henry’s quaestio on whether or not a sinner can be a teacher (doctor) of theology23 displays an acute awareness of the relative demands of technical proficiency and skill in preaching on the one hand, and the purity of the preacher’s life on the other. Here Henry brings to bear the apparatus of Aristotelian causality (particularly the theory of instrumental causality) and Aristotelian psychology (particularly the theory of habitus or stable mental condition). He begins by marshaling two arguments in favor of the proposition that the doctor of theology need not be a just man. First is the story of the man who did not walk with Christ. The apostles wished to prohibit him from teaching, but Christ said, “Forbid him not,” on the grounds that “he that is not against you is for you” (Luke 9:50). Insofar as he did not remain with Christ he was evil, but if it was not permissible for him to teach theology he should have been prohibited. The second argument in favor is found in Philippians 1:15–19, where Paul says that some of his brothers who are announcing the message are doing it just out of rivalry and competitiveness (whereas the rest preach Christ with the right intention). The fact that they were evil is emphasized by the Glossa ordinaria.24 And yet, the Apostle rejoiced in their teaching: “But what then? So that by all means, whether by occasion or by truth, Christ be preached: in this also I rejoice, yea, and will rejoice” (v. 18). Two arguments against the proposition are then offered. First, only those who are illuminated by the light of wisdom, obey the precepts of God, and strongly suggest them to others are suitable for the high office (magisterium)of doctor. Second, to teach without acting condemns the teacher, as Chrysostom says concerning Matthew 5:19 (“He that shall do and teach, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven”).25
Henry begins his own response with a crucial distinction. Someone may be said to be a doctor in two different ways: because he is capable of teaching or because he has the office of teaching (officium docendi). In the first sense, one is a doctor by dint of his state or condition (habitus) of knowledge and consequent ability to teach. Such a habitus is not dismissed by the act of sinning, any more than it is acquired by virtuous action—though it may be said (following Averroes in his commentary on Book vii of Aristotle’s Physics)26 that the habitus of virtue disposes one to the acquisition of knowledge. In the passage under discussion Aristotle had explained that knowledge can be acquired only when the soul settles down from the restlessness natural to it. Commenting on this passage, Thomas Aquinas (writing at Paris in 1271) noted that understanding, i.e., speculative thought, and prudence, i.e., practical reason, come to the soul through the rest and abating of corporeal motions and sensible affections.27 The obvious inference is that moral virtue, whereby the restless passions are controlled, is therefore in a sense conducive to intellectual virtue. Through its practice are created the best possible conditions in which knowledge can be acquired. To adopt a metaphor used by Averroes, the process involved is like polishing metal so that it might become a mirror and receive light.28
But Henry is far more interested in the idea that the state of knowledge, once it actually is acquired, is there to stay, and cannot be lost through immoral behavior. In this sense, a man who is evil and a sinner can be called a doctor of the science of theology, for he is able to have correct doctrine just like the righteous man, and indeed he may he better educated than the righteous man in respect of the relevant habitus of knowledge. Thus he is a doctor of another person by dint of his possession of the habitus of this science, and may be compared to the craftsman (artifex) who practices his skill in accordance with the habitus of that art. Aristotle is quoted as saying that it is not necessary for the craftsman to be morally virtuous in order to exercise his craft.29 In order that an artisan might make good knives, Henry elaborates, he requires not moral virtue but mere proficiency in the art of knife making. The “perfection of the art” of knife making is simply— good knives. The inference is that the good doctor (on Henry’s first definition) does not have to be a morally good man.
The second sense in which someone may be said to be a doctor relates to the audience’s reception of the teacher rather than his mental state and personal abilities. On this definition, a teacher is someone who holds the office of public teaching (officium publice docendi). For this, the approval of the taught is essential. Here the analogy is with the doctor of medicine rather than with the craftsman. No matter how experienced (peritus) a medical doctor was in his profession, or however good were the medicines he dispensed, he would not be acceptable to his patients if he was not disposed to make them well. So, if he were irascible, and thereby provoked all his patients to anger, which inevitably would endanger
