St. Ambrose

Last night, though Pete and I did not go to an All Saint's Day party planned by my boss, my dear husband found a way to make his presence known. After extensive Internet research on the saint assigned to us, St. Ambrose of Milan, he wrote his own comprehensive history.

I present it here for your review:

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Saint Ambrose: A revised and (the author hopes) more interesting fractured historical account of the Bishop of Milan: his life, ministry, and water ballet skills.

Birth

Saint Ambrose was born. Possibly, though this fact has been argued. 340 is the year which many in the Church believe is the year in which he was born (if at all). Of course, where he was born is a well settled fact. It was in Trier. Or Lyon. Or Arles. Regardless, you now have as much information as I have regarding his birth. It is presumed, though not conclusively documented, that he had a mother; this presumption arises since Mr. Saint Ambrose’s dad was fairly well off and the family could afford one.

Life

Historians enter heated arguments with each other about St. Ambrose’s life, sometimes permitting their rancorous disagreements to spill out into their own personal lives. Their venting often gets them in trouble with their cats, since they frequently yell, “Ambrose’s father was prefect, not perfect!” After these unseemly outbursts, they must usually purchase large quantities of expensive Asian fish with which to placate their offended feline who are terrified by such yelling. The irony, of course, is that Ambrose’s dad doesn’t really enter the picture. He was prefect, but not perfect. His imperfections do not appear to have harmed his prefecture; please disbelieve any fabrications or prefabrications seeking to pierce the fabric of solid truth woven tightly in this hasty history. His father was the prefect of Gaul, to be precise. While perfecting his galling prefecting, he (or rather), his presumed wife, bore three children: Saint Satyrus, Saint Marcellina, and Saint Ambrose. It is often thought that their childhood must have been idyllic, if not heavenly, with such names.

Ambrose was educated in philosophy, in oration, in the classics… and in Rome. He was in Rome because his father, having perfected his prefecting to the point where it could no longer be perfected any further, expired. His family felt Gauled, er, called, to the Eternal City, and continue there for the educational and spiritual benefit of the children. As Ambrose’s academic accomplishments started increasing, so did the number of politicians taking note of his political skills. While some would consider it a shame and disgrace, he decided to enter the legal profession. His oration during legal arguments was so compelling that he was soon sent by Emperor Valentinian to become the consular governor of Liguria and Aemilia. Basic gist: they thought he talked “real perty.” His residence was to be the northern Italian city of Milan. Milan, of course, is the Italian word for “My lawn… no trespassing.”

History recounts Ambrose a kind and gentle leader, which is good, since he, in fact, was kind and gentle. While the consular governor, the bishop of Milan died (prompting the immortal cry, “THERE’S A DEAD BISHOP ON THE LANDIN’!”). * It is interesting to note that at this point in time, Ambrose himself had not yet been baptized into the church, being a catechumen**, another Italian word meaning either “half cat, half human” or “gesunheit.” There was much concern regarding the death of the bishop, namely because of a schism in the faith at the time between the traditional beliefs held by Roman Catholics and beliefs being advocated by followers of Arian (who openly doubted the divinity of Jesus Christ). It was feared by the traditionalists in Milan that an Arian would be appointed to head the church in that city. This fear prompted civil unrest and pleas to the pontiff requesting immediate appointment of a bishop to the Milanese see by papal edict rather than through the usual method of election. Ambrose himself went to the basilica in an attempt to quell the impending violence brought on by the civil unrest. While offering an impassioned plea for unity and peace, the crowd started to call for Ambrose’s appointment to the episcopate! Ambrose, fully realizing his training not equal to the task, promptly did the only thing a self-respecting Frenchman would do. He fled. The crowd, unwilling to accept this as a refusal of their will, chased after him, and announced him their candidate for bishop. Valentinian, knowing Ambrose’s character, approved the Milano’s choice and confirmed his appointment. On December 7, 374, he was baptized and consecrated Bishop of the See of Milan.

Ambrose’s appointment immediately affected his life. He divested himself of his worldly goods (including his collection of “The Gladiators of Gaul” action figures) which prompted his brother, Satyrus, to quit his own job as a prefect and attempt to talk sense into him. Ambrose, however, was more interested in carrying out his ecclesiastical duties than his own physical comforts, and instead accepted Satyrus’ service as administrator of his physical affairs, permitting Ambrose to focus on his own spiritual training.

Ambrose stood firm in doctrine against the assaults of the Arians on the divinity of Christ, wrote liturgical hymns, preached, and, in general did a lot of good things which caused a lot of people in a lot of places to respect him. A lot. He is most famous for his role in the notorious Investiture Controversy, a remarkable achievement, mainly because it occurred 750 years after he died. Because of this, his role was limited, and he is well thought of for not having rendered an inflammatory edict about the matter.

As many people are aware, the Catholic Church and many other denominations practice baptism by sprinkling. Other denominations practice baptism by immersion. While this hasty history seeks not to settle the differences between the two in its short pages, it does wish to point out why Catholics practices baptism by sprinkling.

Ambrose was a Doctor of the Church. There was hardly a man who could have done more in his office, though he considered his life to have been spent doing too little. He titled himself the doctor who “did too little,” and is known as Dr. Doolittle, a self-effacing title and inside joke skillfully crafted into a public relations coup by his personal secretary, Paulinus. About this time, he, along with his friend Saint Monica (the famous “Ragin’ Harmonica” of the Milanese Jazz Scene) began ministering to Augustine, a Hippo. In fact, his masterful communication with Augustine so impressed his associates that his skills in bestiary communication have since become legendary, prompting a recent documentary starring Eddie Murphy in the role of Saint Ambrose’s Doctor Doolittle. Their ministrations to Augustine complete, all that remained was the Hippo’s baptism into the church. When the day came, Augustine, unfortunately, tripped over Ambrose’s miter, and fell into the baptistery, completely soaking himself but sprinkling all the bystanders with the baptistery’s wet contents. To this day, in honor of this kindly bishop and his famous baptizee, the Catholic church practices baptism by sprinkling.

Ambrose faithfully discharged his duties as the Bishop of Milan for 23 years, dying in 397. Despite my ignorant drivel, he remains one of the most respected and revered defenders of the divinity of Christ and of the Church. The basket of Milano cookies are offered for your mutual enjoyment and the memorial of Saint Ambrose, Bishop of Milan.

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*A thousand pardons, I confess to having viewed episodes of Monty Python’s Flying Circus.
** One who is being taught the principles of Christianity. English equivalent is “padawan.”

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Following the presentation of the document, Pete had supplied the party-goers with nine different varieties of Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies.

As for our own evening?

*grin*

We didn't miss the party. We attended a Japanese steakhouse showing of "Flying Knives and Dinner While You Watch" and ended the evening by reading ourselves to sleep.