Virtue and Friendship
Ambrose begins Book III (you can read summaries of Book I HERE and Book II HERE) of his magnum opus Duties of the Clergy by extolling the importance of drawing wisdom and understanding from scriptural examples rather than from popular philosophical teachers, which was a big issue during his day. Rhetorical speakers of that time were sort of like the Tony Robbins, Jordan Petersons, and Christopher Hitchins of our day. You could make a good living back then (and now) by speaking creatively and confidently. Ambrose wanted the early church to stick to being motivated by scriptural truth and God-inspired wisdom that comes only from walking with the Holy Spirit.
As has now become a theme with him, he vigorously warns ministers against seeking financial gain from their service, urging them instead to seek to bless others. Our motivation to enter ministry should always be to help others, not to further our own reputation, sense of worthiness or bank account. He points out that true ministry is a life of difficult, selfless labor, not a shortcut to “fleecing the flock” and living the good life. In fact, Ambrose is adamant that a life of leisure isn’t for God’s servants: “We must think it a far more noble thing to labor for our country than to pass a quiet life at ease in the full enjoyment of leisure.”
I find this inspiring and aspirational. God created us to work, to labor for the good of his kingdom, indeed to seek first his kingdom (Matthew 6:3). There will come a time in every man and woman’s life when sloth is as great a temptation as lust and gluttony. Just because we have the means to retire doesn’t mean we should retire (and never from Kingdom service).
Ambrose keeps returning to the need to make sure no one—absolutely no one—can say they have been cheated by one of God’s servants, especially in business. Commerce is a part of life, but if you are selling a house or making a profit, no one should feel ill-treated by you. Our reputation matters far more than any monetary gain via any one transaction.
The pursuit of integrity needs to be internal, not external. We don’t live a virtuous life so others see it, but because we know it is right and what honors God: “We must never aim at anything but what is virtuous. The wise man does nothing but what can be done openly and without falseness, nor does he do anything whereby he may involve himself in any wrongdoing, even where he may escape notice. For he is guilty in his own eyes, before being so in the eyes of others; and the publicity of his crime does not bring him more shame than his own consciousness of it.”
Integrity means being motivated more by the fear of God than concern over our own reputation.
The message here is that Christians in general but also leaders in particular need to be very careful in business dealings and transactions. Virtue matters more than profit. Better to earn a little less with righteousness, than more with greed or deception. Ambrose keeps returning to this, to the point of being repetitive. It was clearly an issue of some importance in his day, and I’m convicted at how infrequently (i.e., almost never) I hear us preachers challenging shady business practices. I don’t think Ambrose would be shy about condemning strip clubs, but I think he’d put just as much effort into calling out sketchy check-cashing storefronts who charge 40% interest or multi-billionaires who underpay their workers.
When it comes to dealing with foreigners, Ambrose urges liberality, especially during a time of crisis or famine. “They who would forbid the city to strangers cannot have our approval…Beasts do not drive out beasts, yet man shuts out man.” When Ambrose writes this, I think, “He’s never watched the National Geographic Channel! Beasts eat each other alive!” But seriously, he urges mercy and compassion. “We do not allow our dogs to come to our table and leave them unfed, yet we shut out a man.” In all our policies, we should lean toward compassion. I don’t know how any Christian can deny this as the teaching of Christ. Applying it as a matter of government policy can be tricky; applying it as a matter of personal practice less so.
In the last chapter Ambrose celebrates friendship but in a way that once again showcases the importance of virtue. Rebukes, when warranted, are better than a “silent friendship.” A while back I was feeling a little sorry for myself, telling one of my closest friends that maybe it’s time I just shut up and retire. He gave me a holy “kick in the butt”: “Don’t you want to go down shooting?” That’s one of many reasons that he’s my closest friend. I want a rebuke when a rebuke is warranted.
Ambrose insists, however, that a virtuous friendship is one in which you defend your friend over the crowd’s disapproval. We shouldn’t worry about our reputation more than we do about our friend’s reputation. If an injustice is being done to them, we must defend them, for “nothing in the world is more beautiful than [friendship]. It is indeed a comfort in this life to have one to whom thou canst open thy heart, with whom thou canst share confidences, and to whom thou canst entrust the secrets of thy heart.”
Ambrose’s emphasis on virtue makes it clear that he’s not talking about excusing a friend’s misbehavior; instead, when we know our friend is in the right but the popular acclaim says otherwise, it is cowardly and horrific to be silent hoping that the same crowd won’t turn on us. This is eerily relevant in today’s cancel culture hysteria.
Of course, as we’ve come to expect with Ambrose, friendship and loyalty to Christ supersedes any human bond: “Faith may not be put aside for the sake of friendship. He cannot be a friend to a man who has been unfaithful to God.” Which means, we can’t really experience true friendship with someone who is in rebellion against God: “There can be no friendship between diverse characters.”
Ambrose, always so aware of class, notes that it is generally easier for the poor to have true friends, as people fawn over and flatter the rich. In a curious phenomenon, it can be very expensive spiritually to have a lot of money physically.
The modern caricature of a “famous clergyman” today is someone who is in it only for the money, a hypocrite who preaches one thing in public and lives another way in private, and a shallow person who has no true friends, only “yes men” and servile employees. Isn’t it fascinating that Ambrose, writing in the fourth century, dealt with the very same issues? That’s why Ambrose stresses over and over that clergy members earnestly pursue virtue, guard against the love of money, and value true friendship over reputation. And that’s also why I think every modern leader would do well to become familiar with this early bishop’s wise words. They are every bit as relevant today as they were in the fourth century.
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