And therefore first the very properties of the names and words must be treated, and it must be discussed what difference there is between prayer and supplication and intercession; then likewise it must be examined whether they are to be offered singly or together; thirdly it must be investigated whether the very order which is thus arranged by the Apostle's authority instructs the hearer in anything further, or whether this distinction is to be taken simply and is to be thought to have been arranged by him in that way indifferently. Which seems to me quite absurd. For it is not to be believed that the Holy Spirit uttered anything through the Apostle in passing and without reason. And therefore, in the same order in which we began, let us, as the Lord shall grant, go over each point again.
'I exhort therefore, that first of all supplications be made.' Supplication is an imploring or petition concerning sins, whereby each one, pricked with compunction either for present or for past offences of his own, entreats pardon. Prayers are those by which we offer or vow something to God, which in Greek is called euchē, that is, a vow; for where it is said in the Greek, 'tas euchas mou tō kyriō apodōsō,' in the Latin one reads: 'I will pay my vows to the Lord'—which, according to the property of the word, can be so expressed: 'I will render my prayers to the Lord.' And that which we read in Ecclesiastes, 'If you have vowed a vow to God, defer not to pay it,' is likewise written in Greek: 'ean euxē euchēn tō kyriō,' that is:
'If you have prayed a prayer to the Lord, defer not to pay it.' This is fulfilled by each one of us thus. We pray when, renouncing this world, we promise that, being dead to all deeds and to worldly conversation, we will serve the Lord with the whole intention of the heart. We pray when, worldly honour being despised and earthly riches spurned, we promise that we will cleave to the Lord in all contrition of heart and poverty of spirit. We pray when we promise that we will show forth perpetually the purest chastity of body and unshaken patience, or when we vow that the roots of anger, or of the sadness that works death, are to be utterly rooted out from our heart.
And when, dissolved by sloth and running back to our old vices, we by no means fulfil these, we shall be guilty regarding our prayers and vows, and it will be said of us: 'It is better not to vow, than to vow and not to pay.' Which according to the Greek can be rendered: 'It is better for you not to pray, than to pray and not to pay.' In the third place are set intercessions, which we are wont to send forth for others also, while we are established in fervour of spirit, asking either for our dear ones, that is, or for the peace of the whole world; and, to speak in the very words of the Apostle, when 'we make supplication for all men, for kings and for all who are in high station.'
In the fourth place then are set thanksgivings, which the mind—whether when it calls to mind God's past benefits, or when it contemplates the present, or when it looks forward to what and how great things God has prepared in the future for those who love him—renders to the Lord through unspeakable transports. With which intention also more copious prayers are sometimes wont to be sent forth, while, beholding with purest eyes those rewards of the saints laid up in the future, our spirit is incited to pour forth unspeakable thanks to God with immense joy of spirit.
Out of which four kinds, although occasions of rich supplications are sometimes wont to be generated (for both from the kind of supplication which is born of compunction for sins, and from the state of prayer which flows from confidence in offerings and the fulfilment of vows on account of purity of conscience, and from intercession which proceeds from the ardour of charity, and from thanksgiving which is generated from the consideration of God's benefits and of his greatness and lovingkindness, we have very often known most fervent and fiery prayers to come forth—so that it is established that all these kinds which we have named are found useful and necessary to all men, so that in one and the same man the varied affection may now send forth pure
and most fervent supplications), yet the first seems to pertain more peculiarly to beginners, who are still gnawed by the stings and the memory of their vices; the second, to those who now stand in spiritual progress and in the pursuit of virtues by a certain sublimity of mind; the third, to those who, fulfilling the perfection of their vows by works, are moved to intercede for others also, from consideration of their frailty and from zeal of charity; the fourth, to those who, the penal thorn of conscience now plucked from their hearts and now secure, reviewing with purest mind the bounties and mercies of the Lord—which he either bestowed in the past, or grants in the present, or prepares for the future—are caught up with most fervent heart to that fiery prayer which by the mouth of men can neither be comprehended nor expressed.
Sometimes, however, the mind which advances into that true affection of purity, and has now begun to be rooted in it, is wont—conceiving all these things together and equally, and flying over all things after the manner of a certain incomprehensible and most ravenous flame—to pour forth to God unspeakable prayers of the purest vigour, which the Spirit himself, interceding with groanings unutterable, sends forth to God while we are unaware; conceiving, that is, so much in the moment of that hour, and pouring it forth ineffably in supplication, as it is able—I will not say to run over with the mouth, but not even with the mind itself to recall at another time.
And hence it is that one placed in whatever measure is sometimes found to send forth pure and intent prayers; because even from that first and humble order, which is concerned with the recollection of the judgment to come, he who is still established under the penalty of terror and at the very brink of examination is so pricked toward good things, that he is filled with no less alacrity of spirit from the richness of supplication than is he who, surveying and running over the bounties of God through the purity of his heart, is dissolved with unspeakable joy and gladness. For, according to the sentence of the Lord, he begins to love more, because he knows greater things forgiven to himself.
Nevertheless, those kinds of supplication are rather to be sought by us, through the progress of our life and the consummation of the virtues, which are poured forth either from the contemplation of the good things to come or from the ardour of charity; or at least—to speak more humbly and according to the measure of beginners—which are generated for the acquisition of whatever virtues, or for the extinction of any vice. For otherwise we shall in no way be able to arrive at those loftier kinds of supplication which we have mentioned, unless our mind has been advanced, step by step and gradually, through the order of these petitions. These four kinds of supplication the Lord also deigned to inaugurate for us by his own example, that in this too he might fulfil that which is said of him:
which Jesus began to do and to teach. For He assumes the form of supplication when He says: 'Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me'; or that which is sung in the psalm in His person: 'My God, my God, look upon me: why hast thou forsaken me?' and other things like these. It is prayer when He says: 'I have glorified thee upon the earth; I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do'; or this: 'And for them do I sanctify myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth.' It is intercession when He says: 'Father, those whom thou hast given me, I will that where I am, they also may be with me, that they may behold my glory which thou hast given me'; or assuredly when He says: 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.' It is thanksgiving when He says:
'I thank thee, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hidden these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them to little ones. Even so, Father, for so it was pleasing before thee'; or assuredly when He says: 'Father, I give thee thanks that thou hast heard me. And I knew that thou hearest me always.' Yet although our Lord distinguished these four kinds of supplication as to be offered separately and at different times, according to the manner which we have set forth, He nonetheless showed by His own examples that they can also be comprehended together in one perfect supplication, namely through that prayer which we read that He poured forth most abundantly toward the end of the Gospel according to John.
Since it would be too long to run through the whole of its text, the diligent inquirer will be able to be taught from the very sequence of that reading that these things are so. The Apostle also, in his Epistle to the Philippians, plainly expressed these four species of supplication, though placing them in a somewhat altered order, and showed that they ought sometimes to be offered together in the ardour of a single supplication, saying thus: 'But in every prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.' By this he wished to instruct us more particularly in this: that both in prayer and in supplication thanksgiving ought to be mingled with petition.
These kinds of supplication, therefore, are followed by a state yet more sublime and lofty, which is formed by the contemplation of God alone and by the ardour of love, whereby the mind, dissolved and cast into His love, converses most intimately with God as with its own father, with a special affection of devotion. That we ought diligently to seek this state, the form of the Lord's Prayer instructs us, saying: 'Our Father.' When, therefore, we confess with our own voice that the God and Lord of all is our Father, we profess indeed that we have been admitted from the condition of servitude into the adoption of sons, adding thereupon:
'Who art in heaven,' so that, shunning with all abhorrence our sojourn in this present life, in which we dwell on this earth as pilgrims and which separates us very far from our Father, we may rather hasten with the highest longing toward that region in which we confess that our Father dwells; and that we may admit nothing of the sort which, rendering us unworthy of this our profession and of the nobility of so great an adoption, would deprive us like degenerate offspring of our paternal inheritance and cause us to incur the wrath of His justice and severity. Advanced into this order and rank of sons, we shall straightway burn with that devotion which belongs to good sons, so that now we may expend all our affection not for our own advantage, but for the glory of our Father, saying to Him:
'Hallowed be thy name,' testifying that our desire, our joy, is the glory of our Father, having become imitators of Him who said: 'He that speaketh of himself seeketh his own glory; but he that seeketh the glory of him that sent him, the same is true, and there is no unrighteousness in him.' Indeed, the chosen vessel, filled with this affection, wishes even to be made anathema from Christ, provided that a manifold family be gained for Him, and that unto the glory of his Father the salvation of the whole people of Israel may increase. For he freely wishes to perish for Christ, who knows that no one can die for life. And again, 'We are glad,' he says, 'when we are weak, but you are strong.'
And what wonder if the chosen vessel wishes to be made anathema from Christ for the glory of Christ and for the conversion of his brethren and the privilege of his nation, when the prophet Micah also is willing to be made a liar and estranged from the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, provided that the people of the Jewish nation might escape those plagues and the ruins of captivity which he had foretold by his prophecy, saying: 'Would that I were not a man having the Spirit, and that I rather spoke a lie'? To say nothing of that affection of the lawgiver, who did not refuse to perish together with his brethren who were also about to perish, saying: 'I beseech thee, O Lord, this people hath sinned a great sin: either forgive them this trespass, or if thou do not, blot me out of thy book which thou hast written.'
Now that which is said, 'Hallowed be thy name,' can also fittingly be taken in this way: the sanctification of God is our perfection. And so, when we say to Him, 'Hallowed be thy name,' we say this in other words: 'Make us such, O Father, that we may be worthy either to understand how great thy sanctification is, or to grasp it, or assuredly that thou mayest appear holy in our spiritual manner of life.' This is then effectually fulfilled in us, when men see our good works and glorify our Father who is in heaven.
The second petition of a most pure mind longs that the kingdom of its Father may come even now, that is, either that whereby Christ daily reigns in the saints (which happens thus, when, the dominion of the devil being driven from our hearts by the extinction of foul vices, God begins to rule in us through the good fragrance of virtues, and, fornication being vanquished, chastity reigns in our mind, tranquillity having overcome fury, and humility having trodden down pride); or assuredly that which at the appointed time is generally promised to all the perfect and the sons of God, in which it shall be said to them by Christ:
'Come, ye blessed of my Father, possess the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world'; longing, expecting, and, as it were, with fixed and intent gaze desiring it, and saying to Him: 'Thy kingdom come.' For he knows by the testimony of his own conscience that, when it shall appear, he will presently be a partner in it. For none of the guilty will dare to say or wish this, since he will not even wish to see the judge's tribunal, being one who knows that at His coming there is straightway to be repaid, not a palm or rewards according to his merits, but punishment. The third supplication of sons is: 'Thy will be done, as in heaven, so on earth.' There can now be no greater prayer than to desire that earthly things may be deemed worthy to be made equal to heavenly.
For what else is it to say, 'Thy will be done, as in heaven, so on earth,' than that men may be like the angels, and that as the will of God is fulfilled by them in heaven, so also those who are on earth may do not their own will, but His universally? This too no one will be able to say with true affection except him alone who believes that God dispenses all things which are seen, whether adverse or prosperous, for our benefit, and that He is more provident and solicitous for the salvation and advantage of His own than we ourselves are for ourselves. Or assuredly it is to be taken thus: the will of God is the salvation of all, according to that sentence of the blessed Paul: 'who will have all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.'
Of which will the prophet Isaiah also, in the person of God the Father, says: 'And all my will shall be done.' Therefore, when we say to Him, 'Thy will be done, as in heaven, so on earth,' we pray Him in other words that as those who are in heaven, so all who dwell on earth may be saved, O Father, by the knowledge of thee. Then: 'Give us this day our supersubstantial bread' (that is, 'epiousion'), which another Evangelist called 'daily.' The former word signifies the quality of its nobility and substance, whereby, namely, the sublimity of its magnificence and sanctification surpasses all substances and all creatures; the latter, indeed, expressed the property of its very use and usefulness.
For when it says 'daily,' it shows that without it we are not able to lay hold of the spiritual life for a single day. When it says 'this day,' it shows that it is to be received daily, and that yesterday's supply of it does not suffice, unless it be likewise bestowed on us today also. And our daily need of it admonishes us that we ought to pour forth this prayer at all times, since there is no day on which it is not necessary for us, by the eating and receiving of this bread, to strengthen the heart of our inner man; though that which is said, 'this day,' can also be understood of the present life, that is: 'While we dwell in this world, grant us this bread.'
For we know that it will be bestowed even in the world to come on those who shall have merited it from thee; but we ask that thou mayest bestow it on us this day, because unless one has merited to receive it in this life, he will not be able to be a partaker of it in that life. 'And forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors.'
O the ineffable mercy of God, which not only handed down to us a form of prayer and established for us a discipline of conduct acceptable to Him, and, by the necessity of the handed-down formula in which He commanded that He should always be prayed to by us, at the same time tears up the roots of anger and sadness; but which also granted an occasion to those who ask, and unlocks for them a way whereby they may provoke the merciful and kindly judgment of God toward themselves to be pronounced, and in a manner grants a power whereby we may temper the sentence of our Judge, binding Him to the pardon of our offences by the example of our own remission, when we say to Him: 'Forgive us as we also have forgiven.'
And so, secure in the confidence of this prayer, each one will ask pardon for his own transgressions, provided he has been forgiving toward his own debtors—that is, toward his own, not toward the debtors of his Lord. For some of us are wont, which is worse, to show ourselves placid and most merciful toward those things which are committed to the injury of God, however great crimes they may be, but to be found harsh and inexorable exactors of the debts of even the very smallest offences against ourselves. Whoever, therefore, does not forgive from his heart the brother who has offended against him, will by this prayer obtain for himself not indulgence but condemnation, and by his own profession will demand that he himself be judged more severely, saying: 'Forgive me as I also have forgiven.'
And when this shall have been requited to him according to his own petition, what else will follow than that by his own example he be punished with implacable wrath and an unremitting sentence? Therefore, if we wish to be judged mercifully, we too ought to be merciful toward those who have offended against us. For only so much will be forgiven us as we have forgiven those who have harmed us by any malice whatsoever.
Dreading this, some, when this prayer is sung together by the whole congregation in church, silently pass over this passage, lest by their own profession they seem to bind themselves rather than to excuse themselves; not understanding that in vain do they contrive to put forward these evasions before the Judge of all, who wished to show beforehand in what manner He would judge His suppliants. For while He is unwilling to be found harsh and inexorable toward them, He designated the form of His own judgment, so that just as we desire to be judged by Him, so we should judge our brethren, if they have offended against us in anything; because judgment is without mercy to him who has not shown mercy. Then follows:
'And lead us not into temptation,' concerning which no small question arises. For if we pray that we may not be allowed to be tempted, then whence will the virtue of steadfastness be tested in us, according to that saying: 'Every man who has not been tempted is not approved,' and again: 'Blessed is the man that endureth temptation'? Therefore, 'lead us not into temptation' does not sound as this, that is: 'that thou mayest not permit us ever to be tempted,' but: 'that thou mayest not permit us, when placed in temptation, to be overcome.' For Job was tempted, but he was not led into temptation. For he did not ascribe folly to God, nor with impious mouth as a blasphemer did he enter into that will of the tempter to which he was being dragged.
Abraham was tempted, Joseph was tempted, but neither of them was led into temptation, because none of them yielded consent to the tempter. Then follows: 'But deliver us from evil,' that is, 'do not permit us to be tempted by the devil above that which we are able, but make with the temptation also a way of escape, that we may be able to bear it.' You see, therefore, what kind of standard and form of prayer has been set before us by the Judge Himself, through whom that prayer is to be entreated—in which there is contained no petition for riches, no mention of honours, no demand for power and strength, no mention of bodily health or of temporal life. For the Creator of eternal things wishes nothing perishable, nothing base, nothing temporal to be implored of Him.
And so, whoever, passing over these everlasting petitions, would rather ask of Him something transitory and perishable, will inflict the greatest injury upon His magnificence and munificence, and will incur the offence rather than the propitiation of his Judge by the cheapness of his prayer. This prayer, therefore, although it seems to contain the whole fullness of perfection, inasmuch as it was either initiated or established by the authority of the Lord Himself, nevertheless raises those who are His own to that loftier state which we mentioned above, and leads them by a more eminent step to that fiery prayer known or experienced by very few—nay rather, that I may speak more properly, ineffable prayer—which, transcending all human sense, is distinguished by no sound of the voice, I will not say, nor
by any motion of the tongue, nor by any pronunciation of words is it distinguished; but which the mind, illumined by the infusion of that heavenly light, does not delineate by human and narrow speech, but, with senses massed together, pours forth abundantly as from a most copious fountain and belches forth ineffably to God, uttering in that briefest point of time so many things that the mind, when returned into itself, can neither easily express them nor run through them. This state our Lord also similarly figured by the form of those supplications which He is described as pouring forth either alone, withdrawing on the mountain, or silently, when, placed in the agony of prayer, He poured forth even drops of blood by an inimitable example of intentness.
But who, endowed with however great experience, could sufficiently set forth the varieties and the very causes and origins of the compunctions by which the mind, inflamed and kindled, is roused to pure and most fervent prayers? A few of these, so far as by the Lord's illumination we shall be able for the present to recall, we will set forth by way of example. For sometimes a little verse of some psalm has furnished us, while chanting, an occasion of fiery prayer. At times the melodious modulation of a brother's voice has aroused the stunned minds of those present to intent supplication. We know also that the distinctness and gravity of one chanting has contributed much fervour even to the bystanders.
Moreover, the exhortation of a perfect man and spiritual conference has frequently raised up the affection of those lying prostrate to most abundant prayers. We know too that by the death of a brother or of any dear one we have been snatched no less to full compunction. The recollection also of our own lukewarmness and negligence has sometimes brought upon us a salutary ardour of spirit. And in this way there is no doubt that innumerable occasions are not lacking by which, through the grace of God, the lukewarmness and drowsiness of our minds may be roused. But in what manner, or by what modes, these very compunctions are brought forth from the innermost chambers of the soul, is a matter of no less difficulty to investigate. For frequently, through an ineffable joy
and alacrity of spirit, the fruit of most salutary compunction emerges, so that it even breaks forth into certain cries by the vastness of an unbearable joy, and the gladness of the heart and the greatness of exultation penetrate even the cell of one's neighbour. But sometimes the mind is hidden within the secret of a profound taciturnity in such great silence, that the amazement of a sudden illumination utterly shuts in all sound of the voice, and the astonished spirit either keeps all its senses within, or lets them go, and pours forth its desires to God with unutterable groanings. But at times it is filled with such abundance and grief of compunction, that it cannot otherwise dispel it than by the evaporation of tears. GERMANUS:
This affection of compunction my own littleness also does not wholly fail to know, at least in some part. For frequently, when tears have welled up at the recollection of my transgressions, I have been so quickened, the Lord visiting me with that ineffable joy of which you have spoken, that the very magnitude of that gladness dictated to me that I ought not to despair of pardon for them. No state, I think, is more sublime than this, if its restoration lay within our own choice. For sometimes, desiring to rouse myself with all my might to a like compunction of tears, and setting all my errors and sins before my eyes, I am unable to recall that abundance of weeping, and thus my eyes are hardened after the manner of some most flinty rock, so that no drop of moisture at all distils from them.
And therefore, as much as I rejoice together in that outpouring of tears, so much do I grieve that I cannot recover it when I wish. ISAAC: Not every outpouring of tears is drawn forth by one affection or one virtue. For that weeping flows in one way which is brought forth when the thorn of sins pricks our heart, of which it is said: 'I have laboured in my groaning; every night I will wash my bed: I will water my couch with my tears'; and again: 'Let tears run down like a torrent day and night: give thyself no rest, neither let the apple of thine eye cease.'
In another way flow those tears which arise from the contemplation of eternal goods and from the desire of that future brightness, for which even more copious fountains of tears break forth from an impatience of joy and from the vastness of alacrity, while our soul thirsts for the strong, living God, saying: 'When shall I come and appear before the presence of God? My tears have been my bread day and night,' crying out daily with wailing and lamentation: 'Woe is me, that my sojourning is prolonged,' and: 'My soul hath long been a sojourner.'
In yet another way do tears pour forth which proceed indeed without any consciousness of deadly crimes, but nonetheless from the fear of hell and from the recollection of that terrible judgment, with the dread of which the prophet, being smitten, prays to God, saying: 'Enter not into judgment with thy servant: for in thy sight shall no living man be justified.' There is also another kind of tears, which is generated not for one's own conscience, but for the hardness and sins of another; by which Samuel is described to have wept for Saul, and by which the Lord in the Gospel, or in former times Jeremiah, is described to have wept for that city of Jerusalem, saying thus: 'Who will give water to my head, and to my eyes a fountain of tears? and I will weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people.'