P. David Vopřada
I have been dedicating a lot of time lately to the writings and thoughts of Saint Ambrose of Milan († 397), one of the four great Western teachers of the ancient church, as I study them. Again and again, however, I discover how closely the figure of this Milanese bishop aligns with the teachings of the most well-known Carmelite saints, especially Saint Teresa of Jesus. The first link between them is Jesus himself—where the saint of Avila places Jesus at the center of her life, for Ambrose, Jesus is the center of the history of salvation, the center of Christian life, Christ is everything. When I visited the only surviving Ambrosian monastery near northern Italy's Varese this June, where a community of hermits lives, I was once again convinced that the Ambrosian motto "omnia Christus est nobis", "Christ is everything for us," stands at the heart of his understanding of Christian life.
Many of Ambrose's images, which he uses to describe how a Christian progresses on their journey to God, cannot but evoke a sense of familiarity for readers acquainted with the works of Teresa and John of the Cross. In this light and from this perspective, the reader can finally understand why, in the Middle Ages and the early modern period, Christians held this Milanese bishop in such high esteem—namely, for his spiritual teaching, which not only describes the path that a Christian must walk to join Christ and ultimately be united with him but also continually inspires his listeners and readers to embark on this journey, to surrender to Christ, to let Christ truly become everything for them.
A similar, almost "Carmelite" chord is struck by the images presented in Ambrose's book On Duties (De officiis), which he dedicated to his clergy. Here the Bishop wants to remind God's servants which virtues should characterize their ministry and what role the heart, one's inner self, should play in their life with God. Ambrose, however, is not a theorist; he addresses specific people through concrete images that easily explain his teaching and capture the hearts of his listeners, helping them to become enthusiastic about a certain life attitude. Among the figures that Ambrose favors, two prophets, whom the Order of Brothers of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel invokes, occupy an important place: Elijah and Elisha. It is precisely with the images in which Elisha appears that I wish to engage in this humble contribution.
The Just Prophet of God's Generosity
The first of the virtues we encounter in the aforementioned work concerning the figure of Elisha is justice. In his portrayal, Ambrose seeks to show that there is no situation in which a person is justified in renouncing justice. Even in extreme situations, such as war, it is not permissible to betray the word entrusted to us. If we betray fidelity and do not persevere in obedience to the word given to us, we offend against justice (off. I 29, 140). What is the foundation of this justice? Ambrose finds it in fidelity (Latin fides), which also represents faith (also fides). The heart of the just deliberates on faith/fidelity. One who blames oneself for sin establishes their justice on faith/trust. However, a person's justice can only be evident if they speak the truth, faithfully keeping what has been entrusted to them—in faith, in trust (off. I 29, 142).
The key biblical story on which Ambrose will demonstrate that one can act justly and humanely at any time is the account of the Assyrian king's campaign against the Israelites in 2 Kings 6:8–23. Elisha repeatedly warns the Israelite king about the Assyrian invasion and reveals the place where the Assyrians plan to attack Israelite territory. The Assyrian king discovers that the Israelites are able to prepare for his attacks not thanks to their spies but due to the knowledge granted to God's prophet. He then decides to capture Elisha and besieges the city of Dothan, where the former disciple of Elijah is staying. The frightened servant Gehazi rushes to Elisha with the news that they are surrounded by an enemy force; Elisha first opens Gehazi's eyes through prayer so that he can see the invisible horsemen and fiery chariots that protect Elisha, thus freeing the young man from fear. He then prays for the Lord to strike the Assyrians with blindness and leads the blind into Samaria, the capital of northern Israel, where their eyes are opened again. The Israelite king then asks the prophet whether he should kill the enemies, but Elisha protests: after all, the Israelite king did not capture them by his own power, so their lives do not belong to him. He therefore requests that the king prepare a feast for them and send them home.
Ambrose states that Elisha acts in this way to inspire gratitude in the Assyrians and thus make them more human (off. I 29, 140). This, too, he succeeded in: the Assyrian warriors no longer troubled Israel with their invasions. Just actions, even in situations characterized by a lack of humanity, become a means to make oneself and another, even an enemy, more human, to lead them to a state of gratitude (off. I 29, 139).
In Elisha's story, Ambrose shows that the more honorably a person behaves, the more so if they live in Christian faith in God. Even non-Christians can behave honorably and know that they must not entirely trample on another's rights. However, Elisha's justice surpasses that of pagans: while the Spartans and Athenians during the Peloponnesian War took certain considerations regarding the enemy due to their former alliance (during the battle against the Persians), Elisha behaves justly and honorably even toward his enemies, to whom he is not indebted in any way. Elisha, however, does not merely uphold "human rights" but shows mercy toward his enemies; he cultivates mercy toward them (off. III 14, 87). He acts with an attitude that belongs to the Lord—that God defeated the Assyrians, that He would have mercy on them and show them compassion—and therefore Elisha cannot pretend that it is he who deceives the Assyrians. At the same time, he can demonstrate the Lord's mercy, which leads the enemy to gratitude and right action. Elisha's glory, therefore, does not lie solely in the defeat of his enemies, but the prophet shines through his just and honorable actions, which speak to the witnesses of this event about the power of the Lord. And it is here that he is a prophet: he lets one see—at a glance not noticed—the actions of the Lord.
Elisha's actions towards his enemies are generous. Generosity is yet another virtue that the Milanese bishop highlights in his character. Ambrose wants to show his listeners that God is not stingy, does not act miserly, and does not demand from a person anything that they cannot give. One who is ready to follow God, to abandon everything, and who gives with all their heart everything they own is blessed. Generosity, for Ambrose, does not merely signify a spiritual attitude: the generosity of specific individuals toward those in need represented his only alternative for how certain needy people could survive in the harsh environment of the late Roman Empire. The wealthy who converted often had the habit of giving all their possessions to the poor. The well-known case of the wealthy Roman matron Melania, who at such a moment freed several thousand of her slaves, which caused a significant social upheaval: the slaves suddenly had no way to use their freedom and make a living, and they begged their former mistress to take them back as slaves.
In such a situation, however, Ambrose instead advises that the inner attitude of the donor is crucial and that it is better to distribute one’s wealth to the poor in portions than to rid oneself of it in a single gesture. Elisha is for him something of an exception: at the moment when God endowed him with a prophetic mission, Elisha could rightfully in the sign of generous acceptance of this calling kill his oxen and feed the poor with everything he owned (off. I 30, 149). Elisha is able to give everything wholeheartedly—just like the widow from the gospel (Luke 21:1–4)—and to completely dedicate himself and become a prophetic sign. Elisha's generosity for the needy is a prophetic act: Ambrose wants to emphasize that one who acts generously and gives with all their heart is a prophet for their surroundings—for friends and enemies alike.
The Legacy of Virtue and the Call to Martyrdom
It seems to me that Ambrose was very interested in intergenerational relationships. He considered friendship between the old and the young a beautiful thing, believing that both groups can support each other: the older generation serves as a witness and source of knowledge for the younger, while the young provide comfort and joy for the elderly (off. II 20, 100). For a young person, it is beneficial to see the example and wisdom of a mature man whom they follow. The relationship between the two generations is, however, balanced for Ambrose, as it is based on virtue, which he demonstrates through the example of the apostles Peter and John. Although they were not of the same age, the age difference did not hinder their friendship since they were equal in virtues and wisdom. The same goes for other pairs that Ambrose offers as examples of such relationships, whether it be Moses and Joshua, Abram and Lot, Barnabas and Mark, Paul and his disciples Silas, Timothy, and Titus, or indeed Elijah and Elisha (cf. off. II 20, 100).
A strong example of such an intergenerational friendship, based on virtue, is found in Ambrose with two martyrs of the Roman Church, St. Sixtus and St. Lawrence. Martyrdom symbolized the ideal of Christian life for Christians at the end of the 4th century. Martyrs were highly revered figures who inspired believers to ever-new conversions and full dedication to Christ. Ambrose often speaks of martyrdom and calls his church community to act in the example of martyrs and in fellowship with them. He lets both martyrs, Pope Sixtus and his deacon Lawrence, speak in a fictional dialogue. Sixtus, before his death, turns to Lawrence with words that closely resemble the biblical narrative of Elijah's mantle and ascension. He says to him: "I do not leave you here, nor do I abandon you, son, but you will face more complicated struggles than I" (off. I 41, 206). Sixtus prophesies to Lawrence that he too will follow him on the path of martyrdom in three days, thus supporting him: "It would not be fitting for you to win under the guidance of your teacher, as if you needed his help. Why do you ask to partake in my martyrdom? I leave you all my inheritance. What do you need my person for? Students who are still weak go before their teacher; those who are already strong and no longer need education come after him to win without him. Similarly, Elijah left Elisha. I bestow upon you the inheritance of my virtue" (ibid.).
Ambrose emphasizes here that a student must learn to "walk" without the assistance of their teacher. They must grow in virtue so that they can fight their own battles, demonstrate their strength and take on their life challenges. A good teacher does not raise their students to follow them blindly but to stand on their own feet and grapple with their own lives, thus truly maturing. St. Lawrence was, even in antiquity, a more popular martyr than his bishop Sixtus. And their names are still uttered today in the Roman Canon during the celebration of the Eucharist. Upon St. Lawrence, who stood on his own two feet and was crowned with martyrdom, we can praise God, who is capable of endowing man with so many abilities, virtues, and strength. Sixtus's greatness, on the other hand, lies in his ability to give his disciple the trust that he will handle his fight well. He acted courageously. The courage not to fear does not relate only to our own battles but also to letting those entrusted to us walk on their own, with great confidence in their own strength and in the Lord's power, in which they too will manage their battle. The teacher then does not need to fear that their student will be weak, as neither did Elijah fear when his student Elisha requested a double share of his spirit’s inheritance.
The Prophet of Redemption, Full of Hope
Ambrose highlights Elijah's disciple also for his great trust in God's intervention. When the Assyrian king Ben-Hadad attacks Samaria (2 Kings 6:24–7:20), a great shortage and hunger ensue, causing Samaritans to begin eating their own children. The Israelite king walks in sackcloth (as a sign of penitence and supplication), but he has already lost trust that the Lord can help. However, the prophet Elisha becomes a thorn in his side, as he continues to trust that the city can be saved and that the shortage will cease. For this reason, and perhaps also because he previously let the Assyrians depart in peace, the Israelite king decides to have Elisha killed. The royal cupbearer then threatens Elisha with death, but the prophet announces the end of the siege, liberation, and the end of the shortage; however, the cupbearer sees no reason to believe him, and thus the prophetic word turns against this man's disbelief, which will be punished. By the Lord's decree, the besieging Assyrians succumb to panic in their camp when they hear the noise of a large Israeli army, and they flee. Four lepers, who accidentally discover that the attackers have vanished and left behind a camp full of provisions, do not keep this news to themselves but inform the city. The scarcity and danger have passed, but only the cupbearer, who did not believe in the Lord's word, is trampled to death by the rushing crowd at the city gate (off. III 20, 119–121).
Elisha thus serves as an example for Ambrose of a prophet who trusts in the Lord even in situations that seem hopeless, when it appears that the Lord is not acting and that there is no reason to rely on Him. Thus he becomes a prophet of hope, who hopes for redemption from the Lord and fills those who, out of desperation, begin to act unjustly and inhumanly, with hope. This hope and openness to God's mighty action remain with Elisha despite threats from royal authority. It can be said that in this way, Elijah’s disciple truly surpassed even his teacher Elijah in courage and trust in God, who, in a similar situation, succumbed to despair, and although he glimpsed God's action, he fled before Jezebel when she threatened him.
The Vast House of One's Heart
A theme that seems to be closest to Carmelite spirituality in Ambrose's spiritual teaching is his conviction that the place where a person encounters the mystery of God is their own heart, their inner self. This is not a completely unfamiliar theme even to pagans, as the Milanese bishop himself recalls: even the general Publius Cornelius Scipio, known as Africanus and victor over Hannibal in the Second Punic War (236–183 B.C.), was able to understand that he is never alone, even when he is alone, and that he is never less active than in moments when he is inactive. For Christians, however, according to Ambrose, this is nothing new: they have learned to converse with their hearts. And to walk in it as in a spacious house, believers have learned much earlier, from King David (off. III 1, 1). Dwelling in one’s own heart and heart prayer are for the Christian a great treasure. Moses, although outwardly inactive, was active within his heart: though he was silent, he cried; though he didn't move a muscle, he fought and triumphed over enemies. He was so inactive that others even supported his hands, yet he was as busy as they were. With his inactive hands, he triumphed over an enemy that those who fought him with a sword could not vanquish (off. III 1, 2).
It is remarkable how significant a role the prophets Elijah and Elisha play in this Ambrose’s teaching. Elijah accomplished little outwardly, yet a single word from him ceased the rain, and it did not rain for three years and six months. Again he spoke, and the jar of flour was never depleted, and the jug of oil never ran out throughout the period of famine (off. I 1, 4). We have already mentioned Elisha's actions in the war against the Assyrians: he did not overcome them by military might, but by something else—his connection with the Lord. Elisha did not need to run around and rouse the army, yet he was able to uncover all the enemy's plots and be present wherever needed—with God's help (off. I 1, 5). When the Assyrian king wanted to capture him, Elisha again did not save himself through flight or force, but through prayer—and God heard him and struck the enemy with blindness.
Elisha's example of a contemplative life, however, does not serve Ambrose as an excuse to withdraw from the world. Ambrose distinguishes himself from the practices of wealthy aristocrats, whether Christians or pagans, who would travel to the countryside and rest in solitude away from their concerns and constant contact with others, or remain in the city but have nothing to do with others, closing their doors behind them and leaving others to their fate. Elisha acts differently: when he is in the wilderness, he parts the flow of the Jordan; when he is on Carmel, he helps heal a barren woman, so she gave birth to a son, whom he later resurrected from the dead; during times of shortage, he eliminates poison in a soup made from gourds (2 Kings 4:38–41). He feeds a multitude with just a few loaves and still has leftovers, helps find a lost axe head, heals the leprous, calls for rain, and transforms drought into fertile times. Elisha therefore does not seek solitude for its own sake, but in his solitude and for his inner life, he becomes someone who not only can achieve much but, above all, who does these things for the benefit of others. By dwelling in his own heart, he is able to give himself entirely for others—thus literally acquiring the likeness of Christ, as revealed by the nature of the first chapters of the 2 Kings. Elisha's actions are described in a style very similar to the narratives of the gospels.
And this is important for Ambrose: the meaning of Christian life is not to close oneself in one’s own interior but to walk in justice in connection with God. Justice then is a virtue that I cannot practice solely by myself, but I attest to it in my relationships with others. If these relationships are just, they become a service to those for whom one dedicates oneself. And if the just person is united with Christ, what can separate him from His love? This relationship with Him, experienced in the vast house of one's heart, is thus a true wealth for the Christian, allowing for the possibility of possessing the entire world. Elisha then becomes an example of a person who lives justly with the Lord in their own inner self and acts on His word.
Thus the circle closes: Elisha draws his virtue not only from his relationship with his teacher, who was an example for him and allowed him to grow but primarily from his dwelling in the vast house of his own heart, where he learned to converse not only with himself but especially with God. It is no wonder that this trait of his personality was referred to by the ecclesiastical tradition of late antiquity and the whole Middle Ages, and that this Carmelite prophet ultimately became a key figure for all those who have ever somehow dwelled with God on Carmel.
