Letter 228: 1. I thought that by sending to your Grace a copy of the letter which I wrote to our brother and co-bishop Quodvultdeus, I had earned exemption from the burden which you have imposed upon me, by asking my advice as to what you ought to do in the midst of the dangers which have befallen us in these times. For although I wrote briefly, I think th...

Augustine of HippoAnastasius|c. 423 AD|augustine hippo
arianismbarbarian invasionimperial politicsproperty economicsslavery captivity
Barbarian peoples/invasions; Theological controversy; Imperial politics

Augustine to Bishop Honoratus, greetings.

You have asked me the most difficult practical question a bishop can face: when the barbarians approach, should the bishop flee?

I have thought about this for a long time — longer than you might expect, because the question is not hypothetical for us in Africa. The barbarians are not a distant threat. They are here. And the time may come — sooner than any of us would like — when every bishop in Africa must answer this question not in theory but in fact.

Here is what I believe.

A bishop may not flee if his people cannot flee. The shepherd who abandons the flock when the wolves come is no shepherd. Christ said so explicitly, and the saying admits of no exceptions: "The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired man, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and runs" [John 10:11-12].

But — and this is important — a bishop may flee if his people have already fled, or if the barbarians are seeking him specifically and his departure would actually protect his people by removing the target. In this case, fleeing is not cowardice but prudence. A bishop is more useful alive than dead, and there is no virtue in seeking martyrdom when no one benefits from it.

What a bishop may never do is abandon a community that still needs him. If even one sheep remains, the shepherd stays. The sacraments must be administered. The dying must be comforted. The living must be strengthened. And if the bishop must die doing these things, then he dies doing what he was ordained to do.

I say this knowing that I may soon face this choice myself. The Vandals have crossed into Africa. Their advance is relentless. The cities that stand in their path will face siege, destruction, and massacre. The bishops in those cities will face the question you have asked me.

My answer, for myself, is this: I will not flee. I cannot. My people cannot flee, and I will not leave them. If the Lord takes me, he takes me at my post. And if that is how I die, it will be the one thing in my life that I did not get wrong.

Farewell, brother. Pray for all of us.

[Context: This letter was written in the final years of Augustine's life, as the Vandal army under Gaiseric swept through North Africa. The Vandals — Arian Christians who were hostile to Catholic clergy — would besiege Hippo itself in 430 AD. Augustine died on August 28, 430, during the siege, at the age of 75. He did not flee. His library and his writings survived the sack of the city and were preserved, eventually becoming the intellectual foundation of medieval Western Christianity.]

Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.

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