Which, if they be neglected as small and light, corrupt the beams of the virtues, and after this pour in with a most copious shower of vices, through which, on the winter's day—that is, in the time of temptation, when the assault of the devil comes on—the mind is driven out of the dwelling of the virtues, in which, forsooth, once keeping circumspect diligence, it had rested as in the possession of its own house. And so, having learned these things, we received an infinite delight of spiritual food, so that from this conference we were filled with a greater joy of mind than we had before been affected with sadness over the death of the saints.
For not only were we instructed concerning the things about which we were hesitating, but we also came to know, under the questioning of that inquiry, those things which, by reason of the slenderness of our understanding, we had not even known to ask about. Of the chastity of Abbot Serenus. The question of the aforesaid elder concerning the state of our thoughts. Our answer concerning the changeableness of the soul. The elder's disputation on the state of the soul and its virtue. On the perfection of the soul, drawn from the likeness of the centurion in the Gospel. On perseverance in the guarding of thoughts. A question on the mobility of the soul and the assault of the heavenly wickednesses. An answer concerning the help of God and the power of free will. A question concerning the conjunction of the soul and the demons.
An answer, in what manner unclean spirits are joined to human minds. An objection, whether unclean spirits can be inserted into or united with the souls of those whom they fill. An answer, how unclean spirits hold dominion over the possessed. That spirit cannot be penetrable to spirit, and concerning the incorporeal God alone. An objection, on what ground demons ought to be believed to see through the thoughts of men. An answer, what demons can and what they cannot do in the thoughts of men. A comparison, whereby unclean spirits are taught to recognize the thoughts of men. On this, that not each single demon inflicts all the passions upon men. A question, whether among the demons an order of assault and a discipline of alternation is observed.
An answer, in what manner the agreement of the demons concerning the assault by alternation subsists. On this, that the contrary powers are not of one strength, nor is the faculty of tempting placed within their own choice. On this, that the demons contend with men not without their own toil. On this, that the power of doing harm is not placed within the choice of the demons. On the diminished power of the demons. By what means the demons prepare for themselves an entrance into the bodies of those whom they are about to seize. On this, that those who are possessed by vices are more wretched than those possessed by the demons themselves. On the death of the seduced prophet, and the infirmity of Abbot Paul, which he merited for his cleansing. On the temptation of Abbot Moses.
On this, that those who are delivered over to unclean spirits ought not to be despised. An objection, why those who are vexed by unclean spirits are separated from the Lord's communion. An answer to the question proposed. On this, that those are more wretched who do not deserve to be subjected to these temporal temptations. On the diversity of pursuits and wills which are exercised among the aerial powers. A question, whence so great a difference of the heavenly wickednesses has arisen. A postponement concerning the resolution of the proposed question.
Desiring to bring home to the minds of the studious a man of the highest holiness and continence, and a mirror of his own name, Abbot Serenus, whom we have admired with a singular veneration above the rest, we judge that we cannot fulfil our desire otherwise than if we attempt to insert his conferences into our little books. Into him, above all the virtues which shone forth by the grace of God not only in his action and manners but even in his very countenance, the gift of chastity was so infused by a special benefit that he no longer felt himself disturbed even by the natural incentives themselves, even in sleep.
But how, with the grace of God assisting, he came to this pre-eminent purity of the flesh—since it seems above the condition of human nature—I think it necessary first to explain.
This man, then, indefatigably persisting in nightly and daily prayers, in fastings also and vigils, for the sake of the inner chastity of heart and soul, when he had seen that he had obtained the desires of his prayers, and that all the heats of carnal concupiscence had been extinguished in his heart, kindled as it were by the most sweet taste of purity, blazed up into a greater thirst by his zeal for chastity, and began to devote himself to yet more intense fastings and supplications, that the mortification of this passion, which had been granted to his inner man by the gift of God, might reach even to the purity of the outer man—so far that he should no longer be assailed even by that simple and natural motion which is aroused even in little children and sucklings; namely, by the experience of the gift he had obtained,
—which he knew that he had obtained not by the merit of his labours but by the grace of God—being more ardently animated to obtain this likewise, believing that God could much more easily pluck up by the roots these stings of the flesh, which even the industry of human art is sometimes wont to remove from certain persons by potions or medicines or by the cutting of iron; since he had bestowed by his own gift that purity of spirit which is more sublime, and which it is impossible to attain by human labour or effort.
And as he was persisting untiring in the petition he had begun, with continual supplication and tears, an angel, coming to him in a nocturnal vision and as it were opening his belly, tearing away and casting out from his bowels a certain fiery tumour of the flesh, and restoring all his entrails to their places as they had been, said: 'Behold, the incentives of thy flesh have been cut off; and know that thou hast obtained this day the perpetual purity of body which thou hast faithfully asked for.' Let it suffice to have said this briefly concerning the grace of God, which was specially granted to the aforesaid man.
But concerning those virtues which he possessed in common with the other supreme men, I think it superfluous to record anything, lest this narration, being special about his name, should seem to take away from others that which was singularly proclaimed about him. This man, then, being kindled with the highest desire for his conference and instruction, we took care to see in the days of Lent. And when he had asked us, in most tranquil address, about the quality of our thoughts and the state of the inner man, and what the dwelling of the desert for so long a time had contributed to us toward its purity, we assailed him with these complaints:
'The reckoning of the times and the dwelling of solitude, from the contemplation of which thou concludest that we ought to have attained the perfection of the inner man, has contributed to us only this: that we have learned what we cannot be; yet it has not made us to be what we strive to be. For we do not find that we have attained by this knowledge either a fixed stability of the desired purity or any strength of firmness, but only increases of confusion and shame.
For whereas, in every discipline, one is trained and advances by daily study to this end, that, passing from timid rudiments to a sure and stable skill, he begins to know the things which at first he either knew but ambiguously or was wholly ignorant of, and, advancing with a firm step (so to speak) in the quality of that discipline, is versed in it perfectly and now without any difficulty—on the contrary I, labouring in the study of this purity, find that I have made this progress only: that I know what I cannot be. From which I feel nothing else results to me than that toil is undergone with so great a contrition of heart that the material for tears is never wanting, and yet I do not cease to be what I ought not to be.
And therefore, what has it profited to have learned that which is highest, if, once known, it cannot be laid hold of? For when we have felt the direction of the heart to be reaching toward its appointed goals, the mind, insensibly rolled back thence, slips down to its former wanderings with a yet more violent onrush, and thus, occupied with daily distractions, is incessantly led away into countless captivities, so that the desired correction is now almost despaired of by us, and this observance seems superfluous.
Indeed, when the soul, having strayed off at every single moment in slippery wanderings, is brought back to the fear of God or to spiritual contemplation, before it is made firm therein it again vanishes more fleetingly; and when, like men awakened, we have caught it deviating from the intention set before it, and, bringing it back to that contemplation from which it had departed, wish to bind it with the most tenacious intention of the heart as with certain chains, in our very effort it slips away, swifter than an eel, from the recesses of the mind.
For this reason, worn out by daily observances of this kind, and yet perceiving that no strength of stability has thereby accrued to our heart, we are led by our brokenness into despair and to this opinion: that we come to believe these wanderings of the soul belong to the human race no longer by our own fault, but by a fault of nature. SERENUS: It is a mark of dangerous presumption, before matters have been rightly examined and gathered up by sure reasoning, to define hastily concerning the nature of anything whatever, and to draw a conjecture from the consideration of one's own frailty, rather than to pronounce a verdict from the condition and quality of the discipline itself or from the experience of others.
For if someone ignorant of swimming, knowing that the weight of his own body cannot be borne up by the fluid of the waters, should wish from the experience of his own inexperience to define that no one at all, girded about with solid flesh, can be sustained by liquid elements, his opinion is not therefore to be judged true simply because he seemed to have brought it forth according to his own experience—since it is proved by most certain reasoning and by the undoubted testimony of the eyes that this is not only not impossible, but is even very easily done by others. The mind (nous), then, is defined as ever-moving and much-moving. This too is described in other words in the book that is called the Wisdom of Solomon: 'and the earthly dwelling weighs down the mind that ponders many things,' that is:
'and the earthly habitation weighs down the mind that ponders many things.' This mind, therefore, by the condition of its nature can never remain idle, but of necessity—unless it has provided beforehand where to exercise its movements and in what to be continually occupied—by its own mobility it must run about and flit through all things, until, made accustomed by long exercise and lasting habit (at which you say you labour in vain), it may learn and discover what materials it ought to prepare for its own memory, around which it may wheel its untiring flights and acquire the strength to abide there, and thus prevail to thrust out the hostile suggestions of the enemy by which it was distracted, and to endure in that state and quality which it desires.
Therefore we ought not to ascribe this wandering of our heart either to human nature or to God its Creator. For the sentence of Scripture is true: that 'God made man upright, but they themselves have sought out many thoughts.' The quality of these, then, depends on us, for 'a good thought,' it says, 'draws near to those who know it, and a prudent man will find it.' For whatever is subjected to our prudence and diligence so that it may be found, if it is not found, is without doubt to be reputed to our sloth or imprudence, not to a fault of nature. With this sense the Psalmist also agrees, saying: 'Blessed is the man whose help is from thee, O Lord: he has disposed ascents in his heart.'
You see, therefore, that it lies within our own jurisdiction to dispose in our hearts either ascents, that is, thoughts reaching up to God, or descents, that is, thoughts rushing down to earthly and carnal things. For if these were not within our power, neither would the Lord have rebuked the Pharisees: 'Why do you think evil in your hearts?' nor would he have given command through the prophet, saying: 'Take away the evil of your thoughts from before my eyes,' and: 'How long shall harmful thoughts abide in you?' nor, in the day of judgment, would the quality of these be required of us as much as our works, as the Lord threatens through Isaiah:
'Behold,' he says, 'I come to gather their works and their thoughts together with all nations and tongues.' And so that in that terrible and fearful examination we might not even deserve to be condemned or defended by their testimony, according to the sentence of the blessed Apostle who speaks thus: 'and their thoughts among themselves accusing or even defending one another, in the day when God shall judge the secrets of men according to my Gospel.'
The figure, then, of this perfect mind is most beautifully signified by that evangelical centurion, whose virtue and constancy—by which he was not led away by whatever thoughts assailed him, but according to his own judgment either admitted the good or drove out the contrary ones without any difficulty—is described under this figurative signification: 'For I too am a man set under authority, having soldiers under me; and I say to this one: Go, and he goes; and to another: Come, and he comes; and to my servant: Do this, and he does it.'
If, therefore, we too, contending manfully against disturbances and vices, are able to subject them to our jurisdiction and discernment, and as warriors to extinguish the passions in our flesh, and to bring the unstable cohort of our thoughts under the command of reason, and by the saving standard of the Lord's cross to drive from the borders of our breast the fiercest squadrons of the adversary powers—then for the merits of such great triumphs we shall be advanced to the rank of this spiritual centurion, whom we read in Exodus also mystically designated through Moses: 'Appoint for yourself commanders of thousands, and centurions, and captains of fifty, and captains of ten.'
And so we too, exalted to the summit of this dignity, shall have this power and virtue of commanding, whereby we shall not be led away by thoughts we do not want, but shall be able to linger and cleave to those in which we spiritually delight—commanding indeed the evil suggestions, 'Depart!' and they will depart; but to the good we shall say, 'Come!' and they will come. To our servant also, that is, to the body, we shall likewise enjoin those things that pertain to chastity or continence, and it will serve without any contradiction, no longer stirring up in us the hostile goads of concupiscence, but rendering full service to the spirit. What kind of arms this centurion's are, or for what exercises of battle they are prepared, hear the blessed Apostle proclaiming:
'The weapons of our warfare,' he says, 'are not carnal, but mighty toward God.' He said what kind they are, that is, not carnal nor weak, but spiritual and mighty toward God. Then he indicates in what conflicts they are to be exercised: 'unto the destruction of fortifications, purging thoughts and every height that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, and taking captive every understanding unto the obedience of Christ, and being ready to avenge all disobedience, when first your obedience shall have been fulfilled.'
Since to run through these one by one belongs, as it is necessary, so also to another time, I wish only to disclose to you the kinds and properties of the arms with which we too, if we wish to fight the battles of the Lord and to serve among the evangelical centurions, ought always to advance girded. 'Take up,' he says, 'the shield of faith, in which you may quench all the fiery darts of the most wicked one.' Faith, therefore, is that which, receiving the most burning darts of the lusts, mortifies them by the fear of the future judgment and by belief in the heavenly kingdom. 'And the breastplate,' he says, 'of charity.'
This indeed is that which, surrounding and fortifying the vital parts of our breast, blunts the opposing blows thrown against the deadly wounds of the disturbances, and does not permit the darts of the devil to penetrate to our inner man; for 'it bears all things, endures all things, sustains all things.' 'And the helmet of the hope of salvation.' The helmet is the protection of the head. Since, then, Christ is our head, we ought always to fortify it with the hope of future goods, as with an impregnable helmet, in all temptations and persecutions, and above all to guard his faith unharmed and whole. For it is possible for someone maimed in other members, though weakened, to survive somehow; but without a head no one is granted even a brief span of life.
'And the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.' For it is 'more piercing than any two-edged sword, and reaches even to the divisions of the soul and spirit, of the joints also and the marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intentions of the heart'—dividing, that is, and cutting off whatever it finds in us that is carnal or earthly. Whoever is fortified with these arms, always defended from the darts and devastation of the enemy, will not be led away as a captive and subject, bound to the hostile land of thoughts, dragged off in the chains of the plunderers, nor will he hear through the prophet: 'Why hast thou grown old in a foreign land?' but, like a triumpher and victor, will stand fast in whatever region of thoughts he wills.
Do you also wish to recognize the very strength and fortitude of this centurion, by which he bears these arms which we have said are not carnal but mighty toward God? Hear the King himself gathering strong men to the spiritual warfare, by what levy he marks and tests them. 'Let the weak,' he says, 'say, I am strong'; and: 'Let him who is patient be a warrior.' You see, then, that none but the patient and the weak can fight the battles of the Lord—by that weakness, without doubt, in which that evangelical centurion of ours, being grounded, spoke with confidence: 'For when I am weak, then am I strong,' and again: 'For strength is made perfect in weakness.' Of which weakness one of the prophets says: 'and he that is feeble among them shall be as the house of David.'
The patient man also will fight these battles—by that patience, namely, of which it is said: 'Patience is necessary for you, that doing the will of God you may receive the reward.' Yet that we ought and are able to cleave to the Lord we shall also grasp by our own experience, if we have our wills mortified and the desires of this world cut off; and we shall be taught by the authority of those who, conversing with the Lord, confidently say: 'My soul hath cleaved after thee,' and: 'I have cleaved to thy testimonies, O Lord,' and: 'But for me it is good to cleave to God,' and: 'He that cleaveth to the Lord is one spirit.' We ought not, therefore, wearied by these wanderings of the soul, to be relaxed from this pursuit; for 'he that tilleth his own land shall be filled with bread':
'but he that followeth idleness shall be filled with poverty.' Nor let us be broken by ruinous despair from the aim of this observance, for 'in every solicitous man there is abundance the more. For he that is soft and without pain shall be in want,' and again: 'The man in labours labours for himself and does violence to his own destruction'; moreover, 'the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away.' For no virtue is perfected without labour, nor is it possible for anyone to ascend to that stability of mind which he desires without a great contrition of heart. For 'man is born to labour.'
He who would be able to come to the perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, must of necessity be always vigilant with greater intentness and toil with unceasing solicitude.
To the fullness of which measure, however, no one will attain in the future otherwise than he who, having meditated beforehand and been imbued with it in the present, has tasted it in advance while still placed in this world; and who, marked out as a most precious member of Christ, has possessed in this flesh the pledge of that joining by which he may be able to be coupled to his body—desiring one thing only, thirsting for one thing only, always directing toward the One not only all his acts but also his thoughts, so that what is said to belong to the future, concerning the blessed converse of the saints, he may already hold as pledged in the present, that is, that God may be to him all in all. GERMANUS: Could perhaps this restlessness of mind—
—might in some measure be restrained, if so great a number of adversaries did not besiege it and unceasingly drive it toward things it does not want, or rather toward that whither the very mobility of its own nature snatches it. Since so innumerable, so powerful, and so terrible enemies drive it about, we would believe it impossible to resist them, especially from this frail flesh, were we not roused to this opinion by your words as by heavenly oracles. SERENUS: That adversaries continually lie in wait for us, none who have experienced the battles of the inner man can doubt. But we say this—that they are opposed to our progress in such a way that we believe them to be only inciters of evils, not also compellers.
For no man could ever avoid any sin whatever that they might wish to brand into our hearts, if, as they have the faculty of suggesting, so also a violent faculty of compelling were at their disposal. Wherefore, just as in them there is an abundance of instigation, so in us the power of rejecting, or the liberty of assenting, has been granted. Yet if we dread their power and assaults, let us on the contrary reckon up also the protections and helps of God, of whom it is said: 'For greater is he that is in us than he that is in this world.'
His helps war on our behalf with a far more vehement strength than the multitude of them fights against us; for God is not only the suggester of good things, but also their promoter and impeller, so that sometimes he draws us even unwilling and unknowing toward salvation. It is established, therefore, that no one can be deceived by the devil except him who has chosen to grant him the assent of his own will. This Ecclesiastes has clearly expressed in these words: 'For because sentence is not speedily pronounced against those who do evil, therefore the heart of the sons of men is filled within them to do evils.' Hence it is manifest that each one sins in this: that against the assailing wicked thoughts he does not at once cast the rebuff of contradiction.
For 'resist him,' it says, 'and he will flee from you.' GERMANUS: What, I ask, is this so undiscerning and commingled fellowship of the soul with these wicked spirits, whereby they can thus—I will not say be joined to it, but be united to it—so that they may both address it imperceptibly and instil and breathe into it whatever they wish, and incite it to whatever pleases them, and see and survey its thoughts and movements; and so great a unity comes to be between them and the mind, that, without the grace of God, what proceeds from their incitement and what from our own will can scarcely be discerned? SERENUS: It is no wonder that spirit can be joined imperceptibly to spirit and exercise a hidden force of persuasion toward whatever things it pleases.
For there is between them, as between men, a certain likeness and kinship of substance, since indeed the definition which is taken from the nature of the soul may likewise be fitted to their substance also. But that they should be inserted into one another or united, so that the one could be capable of containing the other, is in every way impossible. For this is most rightly attributed to the Deity alone, which alone is an incorporeal and simple nature. GERMANUS: We judge that this is sufficiently contrary to this reasoning—namely, that which we see happen in the possessed, when, breathed upon by unclean spirits, they speak and do things they do not know.
How, then, should we not believe that their souls are united to those spirits, whose souls we see made as it were an instrument, and, forsaking their natural state, passing over to the movements and affections of those spirits, so that they now utter no longer their own voices and gestures, but the voices and gestures of those spirits? SERENUS: What is not contrary to our aforesaid definition is what you say happens in the energumens, when, seized by unclean spirits, they speak or do things they do not want, or utter with their voices things they do not know. For it is most certain that they do not sustain this infusion of spirits in one manner only. For some are so breathed upon that they in no wise understand the things they do or say; but some know and afterward remember.
This is not to be thought to happen by the infusion of the unclean spirit in such a way that, penetrating into the very substance of the soul and being as it were united to it and in a manner clothed with it, it sends forth speeches and words through the mouth of the sufferer. For it is by no means to be believed that this can be done by them. For it is grasped by manifest reasoning that this comes about not by any diminution of the soul, but by a debility of the body—when, namely, the unclean spirit, sitting in those members in which the vigour of the soul is contained and imposing upon them an unbearable and immense weight, overwhelms and cuts off its intellectual senses with a most foul darkness.
This we sometimes see happen also by the fault of wine or fever, or by excessive cold, and by other maladies coming upon us from without. Lest the devil, who had received power over Job's flesh, should contrive to inflict this upon blessed Job, he is forbidden by the command of the Lord, who says: 'Behold, I deliver him into your hands, only preserve his soul'—that is, only do not make him witless by weakening the dwelling of the soul, and do not overwhelm the intellect and wisdom of him who resists, by suffocating with your weight the ruling part, namely, of his heart.
For even if spirit is mingled with this dense and solid matter, that is, with the flesh—which can be done very easily—it is not on that account to be believed that it can be so united to the soul, which is likewise spirit, as to render it too likewise capable of receiving its nature. For this is possible to the Trinity alone, which so becomes the penetrator of every intellectual nature that it can not only encircle and surround it, but even glide into it and, as it were incorporeal, be infused into a body. For although we may declare that there are certain spiritual natures, such as the angels, archangels, and the other powers, and our very soul itself, or indeed this subtle air, yet they are by no means to be reckoned incorporeal.