LETTER I (circa 1120)
To the Canons Regular of Horricourt
Their praises inspire him with more fear than satisfaction. They ought not to put any obstacle in the way of the religious profession of certain regular canons of S. Augustine, whom he has received at Clairvaux.
To the Superior of the holy body of clerics and servants of God who are in the place which is called Horricourt, and to their disciples: the little flock of the brothers of Clairvaux, and their very humble servant, Brother Bernard, wish health, and power to walk in the Spirit, and to see all things in a spiritual manner.
Your letter, in which you have addressed to us an exhortation so salutary and profitable, brings us convincing proof of your knowledge and charity, which we admire, and for which we thank you. But that which you have so kindly prefixed by way of praise of me is, I fear, not founded on experience, although you have thus given me an excellent occasion to practise humility if I know how to profit by it. Yet it has excited great fear in me, who know myself to be far below what you imagine. For which of us who takes heed to his ways can listen without either great fear or great danger, to praises of himself so great and so undeserved? It is not safe for any one to commit himself to his own judgment or even to the judgment of another; for He who judgeth us is the Lord (1 Corinthians iv. 4.). As to the brothers concerning whose safety we recognize that your charity has been solicitous, that we should return them to you unharmed; know that by the advice and persuasion of many illustrious persons, and chiefly of that very distinguished man William, Bishop of Châlons, they have taken refuge with us, and have begged us with earnest supplication to receive them, which we have done. Though they have quitted the rule of S. Augustine for that of S. Benedict in order to embrace a stricter life, yet they do not depart from the rule of Him, who is the one Master in heaven and in earth; nor do they make void that first faith which they promised among you, and which, indeed, they promised, first of all, in baptism. They being such, therefore, and having been so received, we are far from thinking that your sense of right will be injured by our having received them, or that you ought to take it ill if we retain them; yet if they desist from their resolution during the year of probation which the Rule requires, and desire to return to you, be assured that we shall not detain them against their will. In any case, most holy brethren, you would be wrong to resist, by an ill-considered and useless anathema, the spirit of liberty which is in them; unless, perchance (which may God avert!), you study more to promote your own interests than those of Jesus Christ.
LETTER II (A.D. 1126)
To the Monk Adam
1. If you remain yet in that spirit of charity which I either knew or believed to be with you formerly, you would certainly feel the condemnation with which charity must regard the scandal which you have given to the weak. For charity would not offend charity, nor scorn when it feels itself offended. For it cannot deny itself, nor be divided against itself. Its function is rather to draw together things divided; and it is far from dividing those that are joined. Now, if that remained in you, as I have said, it would not keep silent, it would not rest unconcerned, nor pretend indifference, but it would without doubt whisper, with groans and uneasiness at the bottom of your pious heart, that saying, Who is offended, and I burn not (2 Cor. xi. 29). If, then, it is kind, it loves peace, and rejoices in unity; it produces them, cements them, strengthens them, and wherever it reigns it makes the bond of peace. As, then, you are in opposition to that true mother of peace and concord, on what ground, I ask you, do you presume that your sacrifice, whatever it may be, will be accepted by God, when without it even martyrdom profiteth nothing (1 Cor. xiii. 3)? Or, on what ground do you trust that you are not the enemy of charity when breaking unity, rending the bond of peace, you lacerate her bowels, treating with such cruelty their dear pledges, which you neither have borne nor do bear? You must lay down, then, the offering, whatever it may be, which you are preparing to lay on the altar, and hasten to go and reconcile yourself not with one of your brethren only, but with the entire body. The whole body of the fraternity, grievously wounded by your withdrawal, as by the stroke of a sword, utters its complaints against you and the few with you, saying: The sons of my mother have fought against me (Cant. i. 5). And rightly; for who is not with her, is against her. Can you think that a mother, as tender as charity, can hear without emotion the complaint, so just, of a community which is to her as a daughter? Therefore, joining her tears with ours, she says, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me (Isa. i. 2). Charity is God Himself. Christ is our peace, who hath made both one (Eph. ii. 14). Unity is the mystery even of the Holy Trinity. What place, then, in the kingdom of Christ and of God has he who is an enemy of charity, peace, and unity?
2. My abbot, perhaps you will say, has obliged me to follow him—ought I then to have been disobedient? But you cannot have forgotten the conclusion to which we came one day after a long discussion together upon that scandalous project which even then you were meditating. If you had remained in that conclusion, now it might have been not unfitly said of you, Blessed is the man who hath not walked in the counsel of the ungodly (Ps. i. 1). But let it be so. Sons ought, no doubt, to obey a father; scholars a teacher. An abbot may lead his monks where he shall please, and teach them what he thinks proper; but this is only as long as he lives. Now that he is dead, whom you were bound to hear as a teacher and to follow as a guide, why are you still delaying to make amends for the grave scandal that you have occasioned? What hinders you now to give ear, I do not say to me when I recall you, but to our God, when He mercifully does so by the mouth of Jeremiah, Shall they fall and not arise? Shall he turn away and not return? (Jer. viii. 4.) Or has your abbot, when dying, forbidden you ever to rise again after your fall, or ever to speak of your return? Is it necessary for you to obey him even when dead—to obey him against charity and at the peril of your soul? You would allow, I suppose, that the bond between an abbot and his monks is by no means so strong or tenacious as that of married persons, whom God Himself and not man has bound with an inviolable sacrament—as the Saviour says: What God hath joined together let no man but asunder (S. Matt. xix. 6). But the Apostle asserts that when the husband is dead the wife is freed from the law of her husband (Rom. vii. 2), and do you consider yourself bound by the law of your dead abbot, and this against a law which is more binding still, that of charity?