Chapter 18: A Man of Integrity. I can't help but notice that a striking number of your converts here are totally on fire for the Lord. Secundinus commented to Patrick one day. Yes, through God's grace they are. But it would be a mistake to imagine that all of our converts are exemplary Christians. Even the apostles had plenty of backsliders, lukewarm Christians, and false brethren among their converts. It's no different here. What do you do when people backslide? Secundinus asked.
I refuse to water down Christ's standards in order to make Christianity fit into pagan Irish culture. When men and women return to fighting, drunkenness, and licentiousness, I rebuke them severely. If they don't repent, I excommunicate them without hesitation. It sounds like you're a strong disciplinarian. I am, but so were the apostles. And you'll have to be one, too, or else you'll see your work here destroyed by Satan. Never wink at sin. At the same time, always temper your discipline with love and mercy.
Remember, the purpose of discipline is to save souls, not to vent anger. I have to admit that I'm rather surprised that the Irish submit to your excommunications, Auxilius remarked as he examined a scrape on his leg. I would have thought that they would threaten you, or at least refuse to accept it. Well, I have to admit that Irish culture has helped me a lot. In Ireland, the most powerful persons are not the kings, as you might expect. Really? Who are they, then? Secundinus inquired. The Druids, Patrick replied.
The Druids are the lawmakers and judges of all disputes. If a man doesn't accept their judgments, even if he's a king, he and his entire family will be banned from all religious rites and sacred functions. But you're not a Druid, Auxilius observed. So how does that help you? Well, as a somewhat natural thing, the Irish give me and other Christian leaders the status that Druids enjoy in their society.
This has greatly facilitated the spread of the gospel, since the Irish are used to submitting to their religious leaders. When I have to excommunicate someone, it's not something strange to the Irish. Of course, I always try to be fair-handed in my discipline, treating wealthy and poor alike. One Saturday afternoon, Patrick was elated to see a delegation of British clergy standing outside his hut. He embraced them all warmly and invited them in. He was particularly surprised to see Quintus among the group.
Did you receive our letter? Quintus asked. Yes, I did. It arrived just a few days ago. Auxilius brought it to me. I was so happy to hear that you were coming to visit and would be bringing some supplies for the work here. Yes, we've heard that you've had a limited amount of success here, Quintus commented. A limited amount? Patrick responded. Why? The floodgates have opened. The Irish are flocking to the church by the thousands. Oh, but the credit doesn't go to me. It's God who's doing everything.
I see, Quintus said dryly. That night, Patrick and his companions enjoyed a simple meal with the delegates from Britain. How are things in Britain these days? Patrick asked, with a look of concern on his face. Secundinus and Auxilius have filled us in on what the Saxons have treacherously done. Has there been any change? As a matter of fact, there has. Britain finally has a hero, someone who can defeat the Saxons, Quintus announced proudly. What's his name? Patrick asked curiously. Coroticus.
Patrick shook his head. I don't think I've ever heard of him. Who is he? He rules a small kingdom on the west coast of Britain, one of the presbyters explained. He and his soldiers have met the Saxons in battle several times and have soundly defeated them each time. It looks like he has delivered us from the hands of our enemies. You mean he's driving the Saxons out of Britain? Patrick asked in astonishment. No, they're too strong for anyone to do that. But Coroticus has halted their advance.
What's more, he's entered into a peace treaty with the Scots and the Picts. As a result, the people on the west coast of Britain are filled with a new spirit of hope. Now, if Coroticus can just do something about these cursed Irish devils who continue to harass us from the sea. After communion the next morning, an Irish king walked up to the front of the church with an ornate wooden box filled with jewels of all sorts. He then placed it on the altar.
Patrick was standing by the altar, and he immediately picked the box up and handed it back to the king, speaking to him in Gaelic. What was that all about? Quintus asked a few minutes later. That was Mac Fiaich, an Irish king. I excommunicated him last month for adultery. So what were the jewels for? One of the presbyters queried. He wanted to make a gift of them to the church, but I refused them. I've made it an absolute policy that I do not accept gifts or alms from excommunicated Christians. What?
Quintus exclaimed. You mean you turned down a generous gift like that? Why? That gift would have provided you with the funds to carry on your mission. The other presbyters all nodded their heads in agreement. Let me remind you, Quintus continued crossly, that Britain can't finance your work indefinitely. I could tell that this king—what did you say his name was? Mac Fiaich? Yes. Well, this Mac Fiaich was obviously offended.
Years ago, I had seriously questioned whether you had the wisdom to take on a work as important as this. Now I can plainly see that you don't. Turning down funds that God has provided for your work. I'm going to report this to the bishops back in Britain. Please try to understand, Patrick urged Quintus and the others in a conciliatory tone. I appreciate your concerns. However, I well know that gifts from sinners come with a price tag.
If I accept gifts from excommunicated kings, eventually the church here will come to rely upon those gifts to finance its ministry. Before long, we'll be bending our teachings in order not to offend such people. We accept gifts from excommunicated persons in Britain, Quintus retorted frostily. Are you saying that you know better than we do? I pass no judgment at all on what you do in Britain. I'm only saying this is what I believe is best for the church in Ireland.
We'll talk more about this some other time, Quintus replied stiffly and then turned and walked out of the church, followed by the other British clergymen. The next day, the group of British presbyters spoke to Patrick again. We've discussed this among ourselves, and we've decided that you must change your policy here concerning gifts from excommunicated persons. We feel that when they give gifts to the church, it shows their repentance. To refuse their gift is the same as refusing to forgive them.
What about the poor who can't give such gifts? Patrick replied. Am I to have a double standard here between the rich and the poor? Do you really think you know more about governing the church than we do? Quintus countered, his face flushed with anger. We've decided you must go and apologize to King, what's his name, at once, and we'll accompany you. Perhaps he's still willing to make his gift to the church. I'm sorry, but I can't do that, Patrick replied resolutely.
Apparently, you don't understand us, Quintus insisted, raising his voice. We're not asking you to apologize to the king. We're ordering you to do so at once. Patrick stood silently for a moment, staring Quintus in the eye. The entire time I was in Britain, I obeyed my clergy. For twenty-five years, while thousands of these poor Irish people were dying daily without Christ, I remained in Britain because the leaders of the church said I couldn't go. But now God has opened the door for me to minister here.
You no longer have any standing to order me to do anything. Since when do a group of presbyters presume to order a bishop to do anything? Patrick glared at the presbyters in exasperation. Huh, pulling rank on us? Is that it? Quintus shot back testily. No, God has pulled rank on you. With that, Patrick turned his back and walked away. The next day, when the delegation of British clergy were about to leave, Patrick quickly came over to them. Listen, I want to apologize for the way I spoke to you yesterday, he began.
You've come all the way from Britain to see me, and I'm afraid I haven't been a very good host. Please forgive me. I'd love to have you stay longer. Let's not quarrel. So then you changed your mind about the king? One of the men asked. No, I'm truly sorry, but I can't do what you've asked. But let's not allow that to put a wall between us. I genuinely do respect your counsel and try to follow it whenever I can. Some of the men came forward and warmly embraced Patrick, apologizing for what had happened.
But not Quintus. He simply stared icily at Patrick. Finally, he broke the silence. Turning to Secundinus and Auxilius, he said, We can't order you to come back with us. However, in light of what has happened, we feel that's what you should do. We simply cannot recommend your staying here any longer to work with Patrick. God can well use you in Britain. We must leave at once, or we'll miss our boat. Thank you for your concern, Secundinus replied.
However, this is where I believe God has called me to work, so I'm going to stay. Auxilius quickly indicated that his sentiments were the same. With that, the British delegates turned and left. Patrick's eyes sadly watched the delegates disappear into the gray Irish fog. I'm sorry that our meeting had to be like this, he said, turning to Secundinus and Auxilius. You probably think me a stubborn old man. To the contrary. We've seen firsthand that your policy on gifts is right, Secundinus interjected.
In Gaul, the church often accepts gifts from ungodly kings and queens. After that, the church is afraid to ever excommunicate or rebuke them. I believe it will eventually be the undoing of the church in Europe.