Ian Drummond ⎮  Summer 2011

What does it mean to intercede on someone else’s behalf? In day-to-day life, we might think of a person intervening for his friend in a dispute, a professor intervening for her student, or a parent for his child. Theologically, we may think of it in terms of intercessory prayer (e.g., Fr. Brian’s insightful post on general intercession in the Daily Office). Priests, for instance, are in the business of intercessory prayer. Should they, though, be in the business of stepping between (literally what “intercession” means) when the state is involved? To beg clemency in the legal system for a criminal, for instance? For an innocent one, no doubt, but what about for a guilty person? Does clemency always mean the same thing in all cases, or does it depend on the repentance of the individual? I want to consider in this essay whether it is the Church’s duty to intercede with the state on behalf of the guilty. Our guide will be St. Augustine, particularly in several letters that he wrote 1600 years ago.1

“Neither Do This Nor In Any Way Permit It”

I want to consider a particularly brutal attack and the reaction by one of the great doctors (teachers) of the Church, St. Augustine. Exactly 1600 years ago, in the year 411, a group of Donatists murdered a Catholic priest and tore out the eye and cut off the finger of another. But perhaps we should back up just a bit: By the early fifth century, the Church in North Africa was deep in its struggle with the Donatist sect of Christianity. Arising in response to the persecutions of an earlier era, Donatus and his followers held that the church was called to be a pure institution, and thus believers who had recanted their faith (particularly clergy) during the final “Great Persecution” under Diocletian in the late third century should not be readmitted to the communion. Popular in some circles (as many strict pure church movements are today), the Donatist church survived another hundred years and proved a potent issue for the region’s greatest bishop, St. Augustine.2

Back to the homicide and eye-gouging cum finger-severing. The Donatist ne'er-do-wells (how many times have you heard that phrase?) with a penchant for pugnacity (or that one?) were referred to the local magistrate, a man named Marcellinus. He was a friend of Augustine (who notably was the one to invite him to write The City of God), and thus on the side of Roman Catholic orthodoxy. Augustine wrote to him, saying that he was aware that those Donatist clergy charged with the crime had been examined by Marcellinus and had even confessed. And then the bishop of Hippo writes this regarding the criminals:

          There is for me the greatest worry, that your highness might decide that they should be punished with such severity of the law that they will suffer the very crimes that they themselves committed. Therefore I implore you by the faith you have in Christ, by the mercy of our Lord Christ himself, that you neither do this, nor in any way permit it.3

When I first read this letter, I did a double-take -- on whose side was this saint? I might have expected (though not hoped for) an exhortation to uphold the law against these heretics to the highest degree. Indeed, Augustine elsewhere noted that “people often, when convicted enemies are dealt with leniently, challenge too mild a sentence.”4 But he does just the opposite -- he begs clemency for a group of heretical thugs who have murdered and mutilated two of his priests.

He acknowledges that it would be easy to ignore their capital punishment, since their arrest and sentence were a matter for the state, not the Church. This is a criminal matter, then, outside the judicial bounds of Augustine’s ecclesiastical sphere. And yet he is compelled to intercede on behalf of these Donatists, urging Marcellinus to not inflict “reciprocal punishment.”5 Significantly, Augustine is equating the severe punishment of the state with retaliation by the Church. In other words, if the state were to act within its normal purview, such a punishment would be, for Augustine, an act of Christian retaliation. He prefers a minimal punishment, namely using legal coercion to turn the offenders from their path and administering the “medicine of repentance.”6 The state, then, becomes an extension of the Church, used here for spiritual purposes. Clemency in this matter means not an appeal to remove the consequences for committing the crime, but to lessen the punishment inflicted on the guilty.

Augustine further urges Marcellinus directly: “Hate iniquity, remember to observe humanity.”7 Here, then, is the fundamental grounding of his position. It is the thieves’ humanity that Augustine is interceding to protect -- their humanity, created good, but ever in need of urging, correcting, and refining. We all need directing, and indeed the guiding of Christians is one of the primary duties of the Church. Far from letting offenders off the hook (or giving a villain “freedom to offend,” as Augustine put it), he urges the magistrate to “exhibit the will to heal the wounds of sinners.”8

Augustine wrote a second letter to Apringius,9 proconsul of Africa, brother of Marcellinus, and a Christian, regarding the same matter of these Donatists, writing very directly: “I beg you, a Christian to a judge, and I admonish you, a bishop to a Christian, that this not happen.”10 Augustine then turns to Scripture, in particular Romans 13, to consider whether his intercession is appropriate, for the judge “does not bear the sword without cause,” and the state authorities are “avengers on those who do evil.” For though “the cases of the state and the church are separate,”11 the role of the Church, and thus its servants, is still to intercede on behalf of the accused. The ultimate “aim of our intercession,” he concludes his letter to Apringius, is that the vicar should “give the enemies of the Church time to live and so be able to repent.”12

“Any Crime Whatsoever Should be Forgiven?”

Augustine saw Marcellinus and Apringius as servants of the Church in public positions, and he exhorts them as friends, as brothers in the faith, and finally as their bishop. This discussion of intercession raises many questions for us today. The boundaries between Church and State were so different 1600 years ago, was the intercession he advocated appropriate today? Priests are in the business of declaring forgiveness in the spiritual dimension, but should they also be busy writing letters to governors on behalf of confessed condemned criminals? Should we be seeking blanket pardons, or trying to discern “degrees” of repentance? Though a great gulf separates our world from Augustine’s, broadly speaking I would answer “yes” – this sort of intercession is an aspect of the priestly office, then as now. Now that we have explored a particular case, we can pull back a bit and consider larger issues at play.

First, the broadest question: Is it legitimate for a bishop or priest to intercede in strictly temporal affairs? In a series of letters exchanged with a man named Macedonius, vicar of Africa charged with enforcing anti-Donatist imperial decrees, Augustine addresses this very question. Macedonius asks the question that many of us are probably asking:

          You say that it is your priestly duty to intercede for the guilty, and that if you do not obtain a pardon, you have failed, as if you have failed in your duty. I doubt very much whether this notion comes from religion. For if sins were so prohibited by the Lord… then in what possible way can we contend that, on account of religion, any crime whatsoever should be forgiven?13

We can all easily agree that the Church, and by extension its priests and bishops, should forgive sinners in a spiritual capacity, but surely it goes too far to extend that to the realm of the state? Macedonius is asking, as we all may be of Augustine, if we seek to remove the temporal consequences of sin, what judicial incentives will anyone have to avoid vice? If potential criminals know that their local bishop will write an appeal for clemency to the governor, does that not mean that the Church is essentially becoming an accessory to the crime?

Augustine is not claiming that punishment by the state is wrong per se. Far from it, for “all powers of the king [i.e. uses of institutionalized force] have their own ways, causes, reasons and uses... There is certainly much value in holding in check human audacity by the threat of law.”14 Quoting Romans 13:1-8 in its entirety, he concludes that the Apostle’s words demonstrate the value of a state judicial system that punishes vice. “In this way,” he concludes, “the judge’s punishment will be feared, and the intercessor’s religion will not be condemned.”15 In other words, there is a legitimate role for both the judge and the priest to function, always on behalf of the condemned.

Second, where does the issue of the criminal’s repentance come into play? Augustine is not naïve, “for who does not know many abuse divine indulgence and leniency unto their own destruction?”16 We do not know any details about the Donatists whom we considered previously, but Augustine does address the need for repentance at some length in his letter to Macedonius, using a straightforward test case of theft. If a convicted thief claims to have repented, is able to return the stolen property and yet chooses not to, then the repentance is clearly not genuine and thus a priest is under no religious obligation to seek clemency. On the contrary, the “medicine of repentance is in no way to his benefit.”17 Thus the sinner will most benefit from the hand of the law, rather than of the Church, for “both chastisement and pardon have a place in the successful reform of human life.”18

Third, what about the cultural gulf separating our modern era and Augustine’s? Even though there was a separation between the Church and the state in his time, they were much more closely linked, and so are his admonitions to judicial officials really to serve as a paradigm for us? Augustine specifically notes that he would still argue the cause of the Catholic Church even with a judge who was not a Christian, so that the “sufferings of the Catholic servants of God… should not be soiled with the blood of their enemies.”19 Augustine sees his role as a bishop to advocate for those condemned in the state judicial system, regardless of the religious convictions of their judges. If the ultimate goal, as we have noted, of temporal punishment is to bring about the repentance of sinners, then perhaps we could consider this an aspect of the bishop’s vow to “defend those who have no helper.”20

Common Humanity, Common Weakness

We are all bound in a common humanity. If we do not carefully distinguish between crime and perpetrator, then we are all lost. “Hate the sin, love the sinner,” as the phrase goes in modern pop theology. Sin destroys our humanity, whereas repentance restores it. If we are to say that we love one another, we should hate the sin that so infects each of us. Macedonius was in the position to effect just such a change in the Donatist convicts, for whom Augustine was pleading. As the bishop wrote, “if you take action against the crime in order to liberate the human being, you bind yourself to him in a fellowship of humanity rather than injustice.”21 To accede to Augustine’s exhortations to mercy would be to carry out the Church’s longing for the sinner’s repentance; to do otherwise would only revisit retaliatory violence on the offenders. Far from setting up Christians as perpetually naive to the cunning villain who will break the law again and again, he points us to Paul’s words: “Do you not know that for forbearance of God is leading you to repentance?”22 Indeed, because we are bound by our common humanity, we are also therefore bound by our “common weakness”23 in our susceptibility to sin. God is patient with all of us, within and without the Church. Indeed, how can we liken “God’s patience and mercy towards sinners”24 to anything in this life?

As a nascent province in the Anglican Communion, one that is often derided in the mainstream media and religious press as being more concerned with theological issues than with people, I’d like to offer four suggestions for applying Augustine’s lessons in our modern world.

First, how can a priest be prepared to intercede? Part of parish priestly ministry in our modern world is being acquainted with the plethora of support structures available – mental health professionals, crisis pregnancy centers, family assistance programs, etc. – and connecting them with one’s parishioners. This list of services should include various offices and people within the judicial system – local police and parole officers, attorneys, even judges. Recall that Augustine was able to plead with Apringius not just as his bishop, but also his friend and brother in Christ. An attempt at intercession will be heard more easily if brought by a priest who is known and respected.

Second, for whom should a priest intercede? Augustine’s great lesson, as we’ve seen, is that the Church should intercede on behalf of its enemies for the sake of the witness of the Gospel. Most of us would take it for granted that one’s priest might help us if we were trapped in a legal mess, because of course we think of ourselves as good parishioners. But let us keep in mind that Augustine was urging a lighter sentence for the enemies of the Church. While always concerned for the individual, it can be easy to forget that everything one does is also a witness either for or against the Church. Might an Anglican priest today, then, seek to intercede on behalf of one not on her side? Perhaps for a Muslim, an atheist, or a homosexual? I suspect that doing so out of genuine concern for a person’s humanity would produce a much greater witness than simply “looking out for our own.”

Third, when should a priest intercede? I am not suggesting that a priest should look up the local court docket and begin writing letters of appeal on behalf of all accused persons within the geographical realm of her parish. However, it behooves the priest to be aware of the legal goings-on within her sphere of influence, both within and without of the actual parish. The case Augustine dealt with involved priests under his jurisdiction, and so it clearly involved him, but that direct “chain of command” need not limit the modern priest, since we live in a world of multiple overlapping jurisdictions.

Fourth, how should a priest intercede? This is a much trickier question, and as we noted earlier, a great cultural gulf separates our era from Augustine’s. The penal system of today bears little resemblance to that of Late Antiquity. Long-term imprisonment, for instance, is a relatively modern innovation, and the penitentiaries of today, few would argue, are much concerned with the repentance (hence the term) of social misfits. However, though Church officials have less sway in our modern secular culture than in the fifth century, there is still much that can be done on an individual’s behalf. Before stepping in, or rather as a first step, the priest should know all that he can about the case in question, though I don’t think it is necessary that he personally know the parties involved (we do not know, for instance, Augustine’s personal level of familiarity with any of the parties in the Donatist case). What the priest does need to be well acquainted with are the ins and outs of the legal system and the particulars of how best to help the accused (or convicted) party. A simple appeal to a judge or governor for the sake of the Church, as Augustine made, will not go very far today. However, with overcrowded prisons and falling revenues, state officials are more open to creative solutions, particularly for non-violent offenders. Offering possible alternatives to imprisonment that demonstrate true repentance have a stronger chance of being listened to now, and priests have an opportunity to show God’s mercy in a context outside the normal ecclesiastical world.

To conclude: Our common humanity and common put us all under God’s judgment, and yet we also live in a society in which He ordains the temporal authorities with the power of the sword. We have considered in this essay whether the Church is called to a ministry of intercession on behalf of the guilty, and we have answered that yes, it is. Augustine saw the two forces of temporal justice and priestly intercession as equally necessary, balancing each other. We all, priests and bishops included, are commonly human and commonly weak, ever facing the patient calls of our Lord to repentance. The Church must be in the business of interceding for the “bad” people, for, as Augustine dryly notes at the end of his letter to Macedonius, “if none of the bad ever found God well disposed, then no one good would exist.”25

1 Many of his letters are available in English as regular HTML pages at New Advent, and the best edition of the letters we will look at is in a volume edited by E.M. Atkins and R.J. Dodaro. E.M. Atkins and Robert Dodaro (eds.). Augustine: Political Writings (Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought). England: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Letters 152-155 from this edition are available on a San Francisco State University graduate course web site at http://bss.sfsu.edu/mwilliams/hist710/readings/augustine_epp_152-153-154-155.pdf.

2 An insightful and very readable study on Augustine’s fight with Donatism (and Pelagianism) is provided by R.A. Markus, The End of Ancient Christianity. England: Cambridge University Press, 1990 (1997). See particularly chapter 4, “Augustine: a defence of Christian mediocrity.”

3 Letter 133.1. All translations are mine, unless otherwise noted. All Latin text is taken from the Patrologia Latina.

4 Letter 134.4.

5 Letter 133.3.

6 Letter 153.20.

7 Letter 133.2.

8 Letter 133.2.

9 Letter 134.

10 Letter 134.1.

11 Letter 134.3.

12 See Augustine’s further appeal to Marcellinus in Letter 139. Among additional urgings for mercy, he asks that his letters be read during the judicial proceedings, and if nothing else, to arrange for the offenders to be imprisoned rather than executed. He elaborates similar sentiments regarding a different case in Letter 100.

13 Letter 152.2.

14 Letter 153.16.

15 Letter 153.19.

16 Letter 153.4.

17 Letter 153.20.

18 Letter 153.19. Transl. Atkins and Dodaro.

19 Letter 134.3.

20 BCP, “The Ordination of a Bishop,” page 518.

21 Letter 153.3. Transl. Atkins and Dodaro.

22 Letter 153.7, quoting Romans 2:4.

23 Letter 153.10.

24 Letter 153.8.

25 Letter 153.26. Transl. Atkins and Dodaro.