Institutes & Conferences 1 part 20/44

Yet this can in no other way be attained, unless through the untiring continuance of labour—not the labour of avarice, but of labour dedicated to the sacred uses of the monastery—all cares and anxieties whatsoever of the present life have first been renounced, so that we may thus be able to fulfil that apostolic command: 'Pray without ceasing.' For he prays very little who is accustomed to pray only at that time when the knees are bent. But he never prays who, even with knees bent, is distracted by any wandering of the heart. And therefore, such as we wish to be found when praying, such we ought to be before the time of prayer.

For the mind must needs, at the time of its supplication, be shaped by its preceding state, and, as it prays, either be raised to heavenly things or plunged into earthly ones by those thoughts in which it had lingered before prayer. Thus far Abbot Isaac, to us who were astonished, unfolded his second conference on the quality of prayer.

Wondering greatly at his teaching concerning the meditation of that aforesaid verse, which he had handed on to be retained by beginners as in the place of a first instruction, and most tenaciously desiring to cultivate it, inasmuch as we believed it to be compendious and easy, we found it, by experience, considerably more difficult to observe than that our former pursuit, whereby we had been wont before to run at random here and there through the whole body of the Scriptures with varied meditation, without the bond of any perseverance.

It is established, therefore, that no one at all is excluded from perfection of heart on account of unskillfulness in letters, nor does rusticity stand in the way of attaining purity of heart and soul, which lies most compendiously within reach of all, if only they have preserved a sound and whole intentness of mind toward God by the continual meditation of this verse. Z = Sessorianus 55, seventh–eighth century. Pi = Corbeiensis, afterwards Sangermanensis, now Petropolitanus O. I. 4, seventh–eighth century. T = Sangallensis 576, ninth century. O = Parisinus 2170, ninth century. qu = the codex of Prosper, Vindobonensis 397, tenth century. Prosp. or Pr. = Prosper against the Collator (Migne, vol. 51).

Although the virtue of your perfection, whereby you shine in this world with wondrous brightness like some great luminaries, many of the saints who are instructed by your example can scarcely rival, yet you, O holy brothers Honoratus and Eucherius, are so aflame with the praise of those sublime men, from whom we first received the institutes of the anchoritic

life, that one of you, presiding over a mighty monastery of brethren, desires that his congregation—which is daily taught by the beholding of your holy manner of life—should be trained also by the precepts of those fathers; while the other, that he might be edified even by the bodily sight of the same men, wished to penetrate into Egypt, so that, leaving this province as though numbed with the chill of Gallic cold, he might fly across, like a most chaste turtledove, to those lands upon which the Sun of righteousness looks most nearly, lands overflowing with the ripe fruits of the virtues.

Of necessity the virtue of charity wrested this from me, that, providing for the desire of the one and for the labour of the other, I should not shun so abrupt a peril of writing, provided that both an added authority might accrue to the former among his sons, and the necessity of so perilous a voyage might be spared to the latter.

Accordingly, since neither those institutes of the coenobia, which we wrote in twelve little books to the bishop Castor of blessed memory in what language we could, nor the ten conferences of the fathers dwelling in the Scetic desert, which at the bidding of the holy bishops Helladius and Leontius we set forth as best we might, could satisfy your faith and fervour, now—so that the plan of our journey too may be known—I have believed that I should consecrate to you seven conferences, written in a like style, of three fathers dwelling in another desert, whom we saw first of all; that by them those things which in our former little works were perhaps somewhat obscurely comprehended, or passed over, concerning perfection, may be supplied.

But if these too cannot satisfy the holy thirst of your zeal, seven other conferences, which are to be sent to the brethren who dwell in the Stoechades islands, will, I think, fulfil the desire of your ardour. ON PERFECTION. CHAPTERS. A description of the town of Tennesus. Concerning bishop Archebius. A description of the desert in which Chaeremon, Nesteros, and Joseph dwelt. Concerning Abbot Chaeremon and his excuse concerning the teaching requested. Concerning our reply against his excuse. The proposition of Abbot Chaeremon, that vices are conquered in three ways. By what steps one may ascend to the height of charity, and what stability there is in it.

How greatly they excel who through the affection of charity turn away from vices. That charity not only makes sons out of servants, but also confers the image and likeness of God. That the perfection of charity is to pray for one's enemies; and by what token a soul not yet purified is known. A question, why he called the affection of fear and hope imperfect. A reply concerning the diversity of perfections. Concerning the fear which is generated from the greatness of charity. A question concerning the consummation of chastity. The deferring of the requested exposition.

While we were dwelling in a monastery of Syria, and after the first rudiments of the faith had, by some measure of gradual growth, begun to make us long for a fuller grace of perfection, we resolved at once to set out for Egypt and, penetrating even to the most remote desert of the Thebaid, to visit very many of the saints whose glory report had spread throughout every land—if not with the aim of rivalling them, at least out of a desire to know them. And so, after completing our voyage, we came to a town of Egypt named Thennesus.

Its inhabitants are so encircled on every side by the sea and by salt marshes that, since land is lacking, they devote themselves to trade alone, and by maritime commerce procure their wealth and livelihood; so that, when they wish to erect buildings, the very soil is not at hand unless it be brought from far off by ships.

There, since God, favouring our desires, had granted us upon our arrival the coming of that most blessed and eminent man, Bishop Archebius—who, snatched from the company of the anchorites and given as bishop to the town of Panephysis, guarded throughout his whole life the purpose of solitude with such strictness that he relaxed nothing of the tenor of his former humility, nor flattered himself on account of the honour laid upon him (for he did not testify that he had been called to that office as one worthy of it, but complained that he had been driven, as unworthy, from the discipline of the anchoretic life, in that, though he had abode in it for thirty-seven years, he had by no means been able to attain to the purity of so great a profession):

This man, then, when he had received us in the aforesaid Thennesus (whither the business of choosing a bishop there had brought him) piously and most kindly, and had learned of our desire—by which we longed to seek out the holy fathers even in the more distant parts of Egypt—said: 'Come, see meanwhile the elders who dwell not far from our monastery, whose antiquity in bodies now bent, and whose holiness, shines forth even in their very aspect, so that the mere sight of them can confer great instruction upon those who behold them; from whom you may learn—not so much by words as by the very example of a holy life—that which I grieve to have lost and which, now that it is lost, I can no longer impart.

And I believe that my own poverty will in some measure be relieved by this endeavour, if for you who seek it I shall at least point out where you may more conveniently procure that gospel pearl which I myself do not possess.' So, taking up staff and wallet, as is the custom for all monks there setting out upon a journey, our guide himself led us to his own city, namely Panephysis; whose lands—nay, the greater part of the adjoining region, once most fertile (since from it, as report has it, all things were furnished for the royal table)—the sea, driven forth by a sudden earthquake and overpassing its bounds, had overwhelmed, and thus, with nearly all the villages fallen in ruin, had covered the once rich lands with salt marshes; so that what is spiritually sung in the psalm:

'He turned rivers into a desert, and the springs of waters into thirst; a fruitful land into saltness, for the wickedness of them that dwell therein'—might be thought to have been foretold, according to the letter, concerning that region. In these places, then, many towns set in this manner upon higher mounds, with their inhabitants put to flight, that flood made, as it were, into islands, which afford to the withdrawing saints the solitude they desire; and in these three elders dwelt—namely Chaeremon, Nesteros, and Joseph, the most ancient of anchorites. And so blessed Archebius chose first to lead us to Chaeremon, since he was both nearer to his monastery and more advanced in age than the other two.

For although in spirit he had passed beyond the hundredth year of his life, alert still, his back had been so bent by the antiquity of age and the constancy of his prayers that, as though reduced again to earliest infancy, he went forward with his hands lowered and stretched out to the very ground. Beholding, then, both his wondrous countenance and his gait alike (for although all his limbs were now failing and mortified, he had by no means lost the austerity of his former strictness), when we humbly begged for a discourse and instruction, and protested that the cause of our coming had been nothing but a longing for spiritual instruction, he, sighing heavily, said:

'What instruction,' said he, 'can I confer upon you, when the weakness of old age, even as it has relaxed my former rigour, so also has taken from me the confidence of speaking? For how should I presume to teach what I myself do not do, or instruct another in that which I know I now practise either less, or more lukewarmly? For this reason I have never, up to this age, permitted any of the younger men to dwell with me, lest by my example another's strictness be relaxed. For the teacher's authority will never be effective unless he fixes it in the hearer's heart by the accomplishment of his own deeds.' At this, being pierced with no small confusion, we thus replied:

'Although the very difficulty of this place, or even the solitary life itself, which even robust youth scarcely endures, ought to suffice us for every instruction—things which, even were you silent, instruct and prick us abundantly enough—yet we beg that, laying aside your silence a little, you would rather deign to pour into us those things by which we may embrace this virtue which we see in you, not so much by imitation as by admiration. For even if our lukewarmness, revealed to you, does not deserve to obtain what we seek, yet the labour of so great a journey ought at least to obtain it—the journey by which we have hastened hither from the rudiments of the monastery at Bethlehem, out of desire for your instruction and love of our own progress.' Then blessed Chaeremon said:

'There are three things,' said he, 'which make men refrain from vices: namely, either the fear of hell or of present laws; or the hope and desire of the kingdom of heaven; or the love of the good itself and the love of the virtues. For we read that fear thus abhors the contagion of evil: The fear of the Lord hateth evil. Hope, too, excludes the assault of all vices: For all they that hope in him shall not offend. Love, likewise, does not dread the downfall of sinning, because charity never falls, and again: Charity covereth a multitude of sins. And therefore the blessed Apostle, comprehending the whole sum of salvation in the consummation of these three virtues, says: And now there remain faith, hope, charity, these three.

For faith is that which, by the fear of the judgement to come and of punishments, makes us shun the contagions of vices; hope, that which, calling our mind away from present things, despises all bodily pleasures in expectation of the heavenly rewards; charity, that which, kindling us with the ardour of mind to the love of Christ and to the fruit of spiritual virtues, makes us detest with utter hatred whatever is contrary to them. And although these three seem to tend to one end (for they urge us to abstain from unlawful things), yet they are separated one from another by great degrees of their own excellence.

For the two former belong properly to men, to those who, tending toward progress, have not yet conceived an affection for the virtues; the third belongs specially to God and to those who have received in themselves the image and likeness of God. For He alone works those things that are good, moved by no fear, prompted by no grace of reward, but only by the affection of goodness. For all things, as Solomon says, the Lord hath wrought for himself. For under the plea of His own goodness He lavishes all abundance of good things upon the worthy and the unworthy, since He can neither be wearied by injuries nor be moved with passion by the iniquities of men, ever remaining, that is, perfect goodness and an unchangeable nature.

If anyone, therefore, tends toward perfection, he will, advancing by degrees, ascend from that first grade of fear which we have called properly servile—of which it is said: When you have done all things, say, We are unprofitable servants—to the higher path of hope, which is now likened not to a slave but to a hireling; because he awaits the reward of recompense, and as though secure concerning the absolution of sins and penal fear, and conscious of his own good works, though he seem to seek the reward of a bargain, yet he has not been able to attain to that affection of a son, who, confiding in the liberality of his father's indulgence, doubts not that all that is his father's is his own.

To which even that prodigal, who together with his father's substance had also lost the name of son, dares not aspire, saying: I am no more worthy to be called thy son. For after those husks of the swine, whose fill was denied him—that is, the filthy foods of vices—since, having returned into himself and being pricked with a saving fear, he had now begun to shudder at the uncleanness of the swine and to dread the punishments of dire famine, as though now made a servant, and now thinking of the reward, of the standing of a hireling, he covets and says: How many hired servants of my father abound with bread, and I here perish with hunger! I will therefore return to my father and will say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee; I am no more worthy to be called thy son;

make me as one of thy hired servants. But the father, running forth to meet him, received that voice of humble penitence with a greater tenderness than had been uttered, and, not content to grant lesser things, without delay passing over both grades, restored him to the former dignity of sons. We too, therefore, must hasten, that ascending by the indissoluble grace of charity to that third grade of sons, who believe that all that is their father's is their own, we may deserve to receive the image and likeness of that heavenly Father, and, in imitation of that true Son, may be able to proclaim: All things whatsoever the Father hath are mine. Which the blessed Apostle also professes concerning us, saying:

All things are yours, whether Paul, or Apollo, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present, or things to come; all are yours. To which likeness the Saviour's precepts also summon us: Be ye, he says, perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect. For in those two former grades the affection of goodness is sometimes wont to be interrupted, when the vigour of the soul, relaxed by some lukewarmness or gladness or delight, withdraws either the present fear of hell or the desire of things to come.

And there is indeed in those grades a certain step of progress, moving us so that, while we begin to shun vices either through the fear of punishments or the hope of rewards, we may be able to pass over to the grade of charity; because, it says, fear is not in charity, but perfect charity casteth out fear, for fear hath punishment; and he that feareth is not perfect in charity. Let us therefore love, because God first loved us. Not otherwise, then, shall we be able to ascend to that true perfection, unless—even as He first loved us for the sake of nothing else but our salvation—so we too love Him for the sake of nothing else but His love alone.

Wherefore we must strive to ascend, with the perfect ardour of mind, from this fear to hope, from hope to the love of God and to the love of the virtues themselves, so that, passing over immovably into the affection of the good itself, we may retain that which is good, as far as is possible to human nature. For there is much difference between him who, by the fear of hell or the hope of future recompense, extinguishes in himself the fires of vices, and him who, by the affection of divine charity, shudders utterly at wickedness and uncleanness itself, and possesses the good of purity only out of love and desire of chastity, no longer looking to the recompense of the future promise, but delighting in the consciousness of the present good, does all things not from consideration of punishments, but from delight in the virtues.

For this state can neither, in the absence of the testimony of all men, abuse the occasion of sin, nor be violated by the secret delights of thoughts, since, retaining to the very marrow the affection of virtue itself, whatever is contrary to it, it not only does not receive in the heart, but even detests with the utmost horror. For it is one thing, being delighted with the present good, to hold vices in hatred, or the contagions of the flesh; another, with a view to future recompense, to bridle unlawful concupiscences; and one thing to fear present loss, and another to dread future punishment. Finally, it is far greater to be unwilling to depart from the good for the sake of the good itself, than not to yield consent to evils for fear of evil.

For in the former the good is voluntary; in the latter it is, as it were, forced, and as though violently wrung from one unwilling, either by fear of punishment or by desire of rewards. For he who, under the plea of fear, abstains from the allurements of vices, will, when the obstacle of fear is removed, return again to that which he loves, and on this account will not continually retain the stability of the good, nor will he ever rest even from assault, since he cannot possess a firm and perpetual peace of chastity. For where there is the unquietness of wars, there cannot but intervene the perils even of wounds.

For it is necessary that anyone set in conflict, however great a warrior he be and however bravely he fight, inflicting frequent deadly wounds upon his adversaries, should nonetheless sometimes be grazed by the enemy's blade. But he who, having overcome the assault of vices, now enjoys the security of peace and has passed over into the affection of virtue itself, will retain the state of that good whose he now wholly is, because he believes nothing more ruinous than the loss of inward chastity. For he judges nothing dearer or more precious than present purity, whose grievous penalty is either the destructive transgression of the virtues or the venomous contagion of vice itself.

To this man, I say, neither will the reverence of human presence add anything of honesty, nor will solitude diminish it; but everywhere carrying about with him always the arbiter and conscience not only of his deeds but even of his thoughts, he will above all strive to please Him whom he knows can neither be circumvented, nor deceived, nor escaped. And if anyone, presuming upon the help of God, not upon the labour of his own effort, has deserved to possess this state, he will begin to pass from the servile condition, in which there is fear, and from the hireling's desire of hope, in which not so much the goodness of the Giver as the reward of recompense is sought, into the adoption of sons, where now not fear, not desire, but that charity which never falls perpetually perseveres.

Concerning which fear and charity the Lord, rebuking certain men, showed what befits each person: The son honoureth the father, and the servant feareth his master; and if I be a father, where is my honour? And if I be a master, where is my fear? For it is necessary that he who is a servant should fear, because if, knowing his master's will, he does things worthy of stripes, he shall be beaten with many stripes.

By this charity, therefore, whosoever shall have attained to the image and likeness of God, will now delight in good for the pleasure of the good itself, and, possessing in a certain manner an affection of patience and gentleness like God's, will thenceforth be angry at no vices of sinners, but will rather implore pardon for their infirmities, grieving with them and having compassion; and remembering that he himself was for so long assailed by the goads of like passions until he was saved by the Lord's mercy, and that he was set free from carnal assault not by his own effort but saved by God's protection, he will understand that not anger but mercy is to be shown to those who err, singing to God that little verse with all tranquillity of heart: Thou hast broken my bonds;

to thee will I sacrifice the sacrifice of praise; and: Unless the Lord had helped me, my soul had almost dwelt in hell. And, abiding in this humility of mind, he will be able also to fulfil that gospel command of perfection: Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you. And thus we shall deserve to attain to that reward which is added, whereby we may not only bear the image and likeness of God, but even be called His sons: That you may be, he says, the sons of your Father who is in heaven, who maketh his sun to rise upon the good and the bad, and raineth upon the just and the unjust. Which affection the blessed John, knowing that he had attained it, says:

That we may have confidence in the day of judgement, because as He is, so are we also in this world. For wherein can weak and frail human nature be as He is, unless it always extend its serene charity of heart, in imitation of God, upon good and bad, just and unjust; and that it may work good for the affection of the good itself, attaining to that true adoption of the sons of God, concerning which the same blessed Apostle thus pronounces: Whosoever is born of God committeth not sin, for his seed abideth in him, and he cannot sin, because he is born of God; and again: We know that whosoever is born of God sinneth not, but the generation of God preserveth him, and the wicked one toucheth him not?

Which is to be understood as said not of every kind of sins, but of capital crimes only. From which whosoever will not draw himself out and cleanse himself, concerning him the aforesaid Apostle pronounces in another place that one ought not even to pray, saying: He who knoweth his brother to sin a sin not unto death, let him ask, and life shall be given to him who sinneth not unto death. There is a sin unto death: for that I say not that any man ask. But concerning those which are pronounced to be not unto death, from which even they who faithfully serve Christ, however great the circumspection with which they guard themselves, cannot be immune, it is thus said: If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us; and again:

If we say that we have not sinned, we make Him a liar, and His word is not in us. For it is impossible that any of the saints should not incur these small matters, which are committed through speech, through thought, through ignorance, through forgetfulness, through necessity, through wilfulness, through inadvertence. Which, although they be alien from that sin which is said to be unto death, yet cannot be free from fault and reproach. When, therefore, anyone shall have attained that affection of goodness and imitation of God which we have described, then, clothed with the bowels of the Lord's long-suffering, he will pray even for his persecutors, saying likewise: Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.

But it is a clear sign of a soul not yet purified from the dregs of vices, not to grieve with the affection of mercy over the crimes of others, but to hold the rigid censure of a judge. For how shall he be able to obtain perfection of heart, who has not that whereby the Apostle signified the fulness of the law could be consummated, saying: Bear ye one another's burdens, and so you shall fulfil the law of Christ; but neither does he possess that virtue of charity, which is not provoked, is not puffed up, thinketh no evil, which beareth all things, endureth all things? For the just man regardeth the lives of his beasts: but the bowels of the wicked are without mercy.

And therefore it is most certain that the monk lies subject to those same vices which he condemns in another with unmerciful and inhuman severity. For a rigid king shall fall into evils, and he that stoppeth his ears that he may not hear the weak, he also shall cry, and there shall be none to hear him. GERMANUS: Powerfully indeed and magnificently has this been discoursed concerning the perfect charity of God. Yet this troubles us: that, whereas you have preferred it with such great praise, you have said that the fear of God and the hope of eternal recompense are imperfect—when yet it seems that the prophet felt something far otherwise concerning them, saying: Fear the Lord, all ye his saints;

for there is no want to them that fear him; and again, in the keeping of God's justifications he confesses himself trained by the consideration of recompense, saying: I have inclined my heart to do thy justifications for ever, for the reward. And the Apostle says: By faith Moses, when he was grown up, denied himself to be the son of Pharaoh's daughter, rather choosing to be afflicted with the people of God than to have the pleasure of temporal sin, esteeming the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of the Egyptians; for he looked unto the reward.

How then are they to be believed imperfect, when both blessed David glories that he did the Lord's justifications with a view to recompense, and the lawgiver, looking to future rewards, is said to have spurned the adoption of royal dignity and to have preferred the most cruel affliction to the treasures of the Egyptians? CHAEREMON: According to the state and measure of each mind, the divine Scripture summons the liberty of our free will to diverse grades of perfection. For a uniform crown of perfection could not be set forth for all, since neither is there one virtue, nor will, nor fervour of all; and therefore the divine word has established, in a certain manner, diverse orders and diverse measures of the perfections themselves.