Institutes & Conferences 1 part 29/44

And therefore, if you weigh by the deep scrutiny of the heart with what mind that is done which is accomplished by each one, and from what inmost affection it proceeds, you will see that the virtue of patience and gentleness can by no means be fulfilled by a contrary spirit—that is, by impatience and fury. For our Lord and Saviour, instructing us in the profound virtue of patience and gentleness—that is, that we should not display it only with our lips, but store it away in the inmost sanctuaries of our soul—gave us this formula of Gospel perfection, saying:

'If anyone strike thee on thy right cheek, offer him the other also' (there is understood, without doubt, the right cheek—for what other right cheek can be taken except, so to speak, on the face of the inner man?), desiring by this to extirpate utterly every kindling of anger from the deep recesses of the soul—that is, that if thy outer right cheek has received the assault of the striker, the inner man also, through the assent of humility, may present his right cheek to be beaten, suffering together with the passion of the outer man, and in a manner succumbing and subjecting his body to the injury of the striker, lest at the beating of the outer man the inner man be moved even silently within himself.

You see, therefore, that they are far distant from Gospel perfection, which teaches patience to be preserved not in words, but in the inner tranquillity of the heart, and commands it to be kept by us, when anything adverse befalls, in such a way that we not only keep ourselves free from the disturbance of anger, but also, submitting to their injuries, compel to placidity those who are moved by their own vice, once the satiety of their striking is spent, overcoming their fury by our gentleness. And thus we shall fulfil also that apostolic word: 'Be not overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.'

That this cannot be fulfilled by those is most certain, who with that spirit and swelling utter words of gentleness and humility so as not only not to mitigate the conceived conflagration of fury, but rather to make it blaze up the more, both in their own and in the brother's aroused feeling. Who nevertheless, even if they could in some way themselves remain gentle and placid, not even so would they seize any fruits of righteousness, since, vindicating for themselves the glory of patience to their neighbour's loss and thereby wholly alien from that apostolic charity, which 'seeketh not the things that are its own, but the things of others.' For it does not so covet riches as to make a gain for itself from a neighbour's loss, nor does it desire to acquire anything at the cost of another's nakedness.

It is indeed to be known generally that he plays the stronger part who subjects his own will to his brother's will, than he who is found more obstinate in defending and holding to his own determinations. For the former, supporting and bearing with his neighbour, holds the place of the healthy and strong; the latter, of the infirm and in a manner ailing, whom it is necessary so to soothe and cherish that sometimes it is even wholesome that something be relaxed, even from things necessary, for his quiet and peace. In which, indeed, let no one believe that he has diminished anything of his own perfection, even if by condescending he has given up something of his proposed strictness; but on the contrary let him know that he has gained much more for the good of longsuffering and patience. For it is an apostolic precept:

You who are strong, bear with the weaknesses of the infirm; and: Bear one another's burdens, and so you shall fulfil the law of Christ. For a weak man never sustains another who is weak, nor can one who is himself sick in like manner tolerate or heal the languishing; rather it is he who is not himself subject to weakness who bestows a remedy upon the weak. For it is rightly said to such a one: Physician, heal thyself.

This too must be noted: that the nature of the weak is always of this kind—that they are indeed quick and ready to hurl insults and to sow quarrels, yet they themselves are unwilling to be touched by even the slightest suspicion of injury; and while, riding roughshod with unconsidered licence, they heap reckless abuse upon others, they are not content to endure even the smallest and lightest thing. And therefore, according to the aforesaid opinion of the elders, a stable and unbroken charity cannot endure except among men of the same virtue and purpose. For it must inevitably be torn asunder at whatever time, however great the caution with which it is guarded by the other party. GERMANUS:

In what, then, can the praiseworthy patience of a perfect man consist, if he is unable always to bear with the weak? JOSEPH: I did not say that the virtue and endurance of one who is strong and robust must be overcome, but that the utterly bad condition of the weak man—nourished by the forbearance of one who is sound, and each day sliding into worse—will engender causes on account of which either he himself ought no longer to be borne with, or else, judging his neighbour's patience to be a mark and disgrace of his own impatience, he chooses at some point to depart rather than be forever sustained by another's magnanimity.

These things, therefore, we judge must be observed above all by those who desire to keep inviolate the affection of fellowship: first, that the monk, when provoked by any injuries whatsoever, should keep tranquil not only his lips but also the very depths of his breast; yet if he should perceive that these have been even slightly disturbed, let him restrain himself in complete silence and diligently observe what the Psalmist recalls: I was troubled, and I spoke not; and: I said, I will keep my ways, that I sin not with my tongue. I set a guard upon my mouth, while the sinner stood against me.

I was dumb, and was humbled, and kept silence even from good things—and, not considering his present state, let him not utter those things which turbulent fury suggests for the moment and an exasperated mind dictates; but rather let him call to mind the grace of past charity, or let him look forward in his heart to the restoration of peace to be repaired, and, even in the very time of agitation, let him contemplate that peace as though about to return at once. And while he reserves himself for the sweetness of a concord soon to come, he will not feel the bitterness of present quarrels, and so he will answer chiefly in such a way that, once charity is restored, he can neither be made guilty by himself nor rebuked by another; and thus he will fulfil that prophetic saying: In wrath thou wilt be mindful of mercy.

We ought therefore to restrain all the motions of anger and to moderate them by the governing power of discretion, lest we be swept by headlong fury into that which is condemned by Solomon: A fool pours forth all his anger, but a wise man dispenses it by degrees—that is, the fool is indeed inflamed to avenge himself by the disturbance of wrath, but the wise man little by little attenuates and expels it by the maturity of counsel and moderation. Of like sort is that which is said by the Apostle: Not avenging yourselves, dearly beloved, but give place to wrath—that is, in no way strive after vengeance under the compulsion of anger, but give place to wrath, that is:

Let not your hearts be so confined by the straits of impatience and faint-heartedness that, when the violent storm of agitation rushes upon them, they cannot sustain it; but be enlarged in your hearts, receiving the adverse waves of anger in those outstretched bosoms of charity, which beareth all things, endureth all things: and thus let your mind, enlarged by the breadth of long-suffering and patience, have within itself the wholesome recesses of counsel, into which the most foul smoke of anger, being in a manner received and dispersed, may forthwith vanish. Or else it must certainly be understood thus:

we give place to wrath whenever we submit with a humble and tranquil mind to another's agitation and, in a manner professing ourselves worthy of any injury, yield to the raging of his impatience. But those who so incline the sense of apostolic perfection as to suppose that they give place to wrath who withdraw from one who is angry, seem to me not to cut off the tinder of dissensions but to nourish it. For unless a neighbour's anger is at once overcome by humble satisfaction, one who flees provokes it rather than turns it aside. Like to this also is what Solomon says: Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry, for anger resteth in the bosom of fools; and: Be not quick to run into a quarrel, lest thou repent at the last:

for he does not blame haste in a quarrel or in anger in such a way as to approve slowness in the same. Likewise this too must be accepted: A fool declares his anger in the very same hour, but a prudent man conceals his shame. For he does not decree that the shameful passion of anger is to be concealed by the wise in such a way that, while blaming the swiftness of anger, he does not forbid its slowness; but rather, if through the necessity of human weakness it should rush in, he judged that it should for that reason be concealed, so that, while for the present it is wisely covered over, it may be forever destroyed. For this is the nature of anger, that when deferred it languishes and perishes, but when brought forth it blazes up more and more.

Our breasts, therefore, must be enlarged and widened, lest, being narrowed by the straits of faint-heartedness, they be filled up by the turbulent surges of anger, and we be unable, according to the prophet, to receive that exceeding broad commandment of God with a narrow heart, nor able to say with the prophet: I ran the way of thy commandments, when thou didst enlarge my heart. For that long-suffering is wisdom, we are taught by the most evident testimonies of Scripture: For a long-suffering man is abundant in prudence, but the faint-hearted is very foolish. And therefore, of him who laudably asked the gift of wisdom from the Lord, the Scripture recalls: And God gave Solomon wisdom and prudence exceeding much, and largeness of heart as the sand of the sea that is innumerable.

This too has been most often confirmed by many experiences: that those who have entered into a bond of friendship at the outset of a conspiring agreement have in no way been able to preserve an unbroken concord—either because they strove to retain it not out of desire for perfection nor by the command of apostolic charity, but out of earthly love and through the necessity and chain of a pact; or because that most cunning enemy, in order to make them transgressors of their own oath, hastens the more swiftly to burst the bonds of their friendship. Most certain, therefore, is that opinion of the most prudent men: that true concord and an indivisible fellowship cannot stand except among men of amended morals and of the same virtue and purpose.

These things concerning friendship the blessed Joseph expounded in a spiritual discourse, and more ardently incited us to guard the perpetual charity of fellowship. ON MAKING DEFINITE RESOLUTIONS. THE CHAPTERS. Of the vigils which we endured. Of the abbot Germanus's anxiety over the recollection of our promise. What seemed good to me in this matter. The abbot Joseph's question and our reply as to whence the anxiety had arisen. The abbot Germanus's explanation why we would either prefer to remain in Egypt or be drawn back to Syria. The abbot Joseph's question, whether greater progress would be conferred upon us in Egypt than in Syria. The reply concerning the difference in the institutions of each province.

That perfect men ought to define nothing absolutely, or whether they can rescind things once defined without sin. That it is very often more profitable to break resolutions than to fulfil them. Our question concerning the fear of the oath given in the coenobium of Syria. The reply, that it is the purpose of the one acting, not the outcome of the business, that must be considered. That good outcomes have not profited malignant authors, nor have evil deeds harmed the good. Our reply, what cause compelled us to the oath. The old man's discussion, that the order of an action may be changed without fault, provided the effect of good zeal be attained. The question, whether it be without sin that our knowledge affords the weak an occasion of lying.

The reply, that the truth of the Scriptures is not to be altered on account of the offence of the weak. That the saints have profitably used a lie as if it were hellebore. The objection, that only those used a lie with impunity who lived under the Law. The reply, that the licence of lying, which was not permitted even in the Old Testament, was nevertheless probably employed by many. That the apostles too judged a lie to be often useful and truth harmful. Whether a hidden continence ought to be revealed to those who ask, without a lie, and whether things once refused ought to be accepted. The objection, that continence indeed ought to be concealed, but things refused ought not to be accepted.

The reply, that the obstinacy of this definition is irrational. How the abbot Piamun preferred to conceal his continence. The testimonies of the Scriptures concerning changed definitions. That holy men cannot be obstinate and hard. The question, whether it be contrary to the aforesaid opinion that saying: I have sworn and am resolved. The reply, in what things an immovable definition must be held, and in what, if need be, it must be rescinded. In what manner things to be concealed ought to be committed. That nothing pertaining to the use of the common life is to be defined.

When, therefore, the preceding conference was finished and the silence of night had likewise intervened, and we had been led by the holy abbot Joseph to a separate little cell for the sake of rest, and by his discourse—kindled as it were by a fire in our hearts—had passed the whole night sleepless, we went out of the cell and, withdrawing about a hundred paces from it, sat down in a more remote place. And so, when the opportunity for private conversation was afforded us in familiar fashion, even in the nocturnal darkness, as soon as we sat down the abbot Germanus, groaning heavily, said: What are we to do?

For we see ourselves bound by an immense difficulty and by a most wretched condition—we whom both reason itself and the manner of life of the saints effectively teach what is more wholesome for progress in the spiritual life, yet the promise given to the elders does not allow us to choose that which is expedient. For we might have been formed to a more perfect life and purpose by the examples of such and so great men, had not the compact of our promise compelled us to hasten back at once to the coenobium. And if we return thither, no opportunity will thereafter be granted us of coming back here again.

But if, on the other hand, remaining here we prefer to fulfil our desire, what shall we do about the fidelity of our oath, which we know we gave to our elders in promising a most speedy return, so that we might be permitted even in passing to go round about the saints and monasteries of this province?

And when, thus burning, we could in no way find what ought to be determined concerning the state of our salvation, we bore witness with groaning alone to the necessity of our most hard condition, accusing the tenderness of our brow and detesting the inborn bashfulness in us, by the weight of which we had been so overpowered that, even against our own advantage and purpose, we could not otherwise have resisted the entreaties of those who held us back, save by promising a most speedy return; weeping, that is, that we had laboured under the vice of that shame of which it is said: There is a shame that brings sin. Then I:

Let counsel—nay rather, the authority of the old man, to whom we ought to bring our anxieties—bring a compendious remedy to our distresses; and whatever shall be defined by his judgement, let it, as a divine and heavenly response, set a term to all our tumults. And this, indeed, we should in no wise doubt is to be granted to us by the Lord through the mouth of this holy man, both on account of his merit and on account of our faith. For by his gift both the credulous have frequently obtained wholesome counsel from the unworthy, and the incredulous from the saints, the Lord bestowing it either on account of the merit of those who answer or on account of the faith of those who consult.

These words, then, having been received by the holy abbot Germanus with such alacrity as if I had brought them forth not from myself but by the Lord's prompting, we waited a little for the coming of the old man and the now imminent hour of the nocturnal office; and after we had received him with the customary greeting and the lawful number of prayers and psalms had been fulfilled, we sat down again in our accustomed manner on the same rush mats on which we had settled for rest. Then the venerable Joseph, observing us more downcast in spirit and conjecturing that this had befallen us not without cause, addressed us with that saying of the patriarch Joseph: Why are your countenances sad today? To whom we replied:

It is not, as those bound ministers of Pharaoh, that we have seen a dream and there is none to interpret it; but, I say, we have passed a sleepless night, and there is none to lighten the burden of our anxieties, unless the Lord should remove them through thy discernment. Then he, who resembled the patriarch both in virtue and in name, said: Is not the healing of human thoughts through the Lord? Let them be brought forth into the midst; for the divine clemency is able, according to your faith, to afford them a remedy through our counsel. To this GERMANUS:

We believed, he said, that we, filled abundantly by the sight of your blessedness not only with spiritual joy but also with progress, would return to our coenobium, and that the things we had obtained under your teaching were to be pursued by us after our return, even if only with slight emulation. For this too the love of our elders compelled us to promise them, since we believed we could in some measure imitate the sublimity of your life and doctrine in that coenobium. Whence, while we reckoned that all joy was to be conferred upon us from this, we are on the contrary consumed with intolerable grief, considering that under that arrangement we cannot obtain what we recognize to be salutary for us. On both sides, therefore, we are now hemmed in.

For if we should wish to satisfy the promise which we uttered—with Him as witness—before all the brethren in the cave in which our Lord shone forth from the hall of the Virgin's womb, we incur the utmost detriment of the spiritual life; but if, on the other hand, forgetful of our pledge and residing in these regions, we should wish to set those oaths after the advantage of our perfection, we dread the sheer perils of falsehood and perjury. Yet not even by this counsel can we relieve our anxieties—that, after the condition of our oath has been fulfilled by a most speedy return, we should again seek out these places with a swift return.

For although even a small delay is perilous and harmful to those tending toward progress in spiritual things and toward virtue, nevertheless we would discharge the pledge of our faith even by a lingering return, did we not know ourselves to be indissolubly bound not only by the authority but also by the charity of our elders, so that henceforth no power of returning to these places would in any way be granted us. To this the blessed Joseph, having interposed a little silence, said: Are you certain that a greater progress in spiritual things can be conferred upon you in this region? GERMANUS:

Although we ought to render the greatest thanks even to the teaching of those who taught us from our earliest years to attempt great things, and by the giving of their own good implanted in our inmost being an excellent thirst for perfection, yet if any credit be given to our own judgement, we count no comparison between these things and those institutions which we received there—to say nothing of the inimitable purity of your manner of life, which we believe is conferred upon us not only by the strictness of mind and purpose, but also by the patronage and benefit of these very places. Whence we do not doubt that this doctrine, which is here delivered in passing,

cannot suffice, unless the helps of dwelling here itself be also present to us, and the daily instruction of a long period should somehow shake off the torpor of our heart. JOSEPH: It is indeed sound and perfect and altogether befitting our profession, that we should effectively fulfil those things which we decree under some promise. For which reason a monk ought to define nothing abruptly, lest either he be compelled to fulfil what he incautiously promised, or, recalled by the consideration of a more honourable purpose, he prove a transgressor of his own promise.

But since our present purpose is to treat not so much of the state of health as of the cure of infirmity, we must inquire by wholesome counsel, not what ought to have been done by you in the first place, but how you may escape from the rock of this pernicious shipwreck. When, therefore, no bond confines us and no condition constrains us, in the comparison of favourable circumstances, with the choice set before us, let that be chosen which is of greater advantage; but when some adversity of losses stands in the way, in the comparison of harms let that be sought which is subject to lighter detriments.

Accordingly, as far as your own account has disclosed, since an ill-considered promise has brought you to that pass where a grievous loss of disadvantage must be undergone on either side, the arbitration of choice must incline to that part which either inflicts more tolerable losses or is more easily expiated by the remedy of satisfaction.

If, therefore, you believe that greater gains are to be conferred upon your spirit from this sojourn than are those which arose for us from the manner of life of that coenobium, and the condition of your promise cannot be fulfilled without the loss of immense advantages, it is better that you undergo this loss of a falsehood or of an unfulfilled promise—which, once past, cannot itself be repeated further nor generate other sins—than that you fall into that by which, as you say, the state of a more lukewarm life would afflict you with daily and interminable detriment.

For an ill-considered definition will be changed pardonably—nay rather, even laudably—if it passes over to the more wholesome part; and it is to be believed not a transgression of constancy but an amendment of rashness, whenever a faulty promise is corrected. All of which things can also be most clearly proved by the testimonies of the Scriptures—to how many it has turned out even fatally to have fulfilled their resolves, and, on the contrary, to how many it has been advantageous and wholesome to have shunned the same. Both of which the examples of the holy apostle Peter and of Herod most clearly attest. For the former, because he departed from the definition of the opinion which he had confirmed as it were by an oath, saying:

Thou shalt never wash my feet, he merited the immortal fellowship of Christ—being without doubt destined to be cut off from the grace of this blessedness, had he remained in the obstinacy of his own speech. But the latter, holding to the fidelity of an ill-considered oath, became the most bloody slayer of the Lord's forerunner, and by an empty fear of perjury plunged himself into damnation and into the punishments of perpetual death. In all things, therefore, the end must be considered, and according to it the course of our purpose must be directed; and if we should see it, upon the supervening of more wholesome counsel, veering toward a worse part, it is more right, the unfitting resolution being removed, to pass over to a better opinion than, by obstinately clinging to what has been determined, to be bound by graver sins.

GERMANUS: As far as concerns our desire—which was undertaken by us for the benefit of spiritual advantage—we would wish to be edified by the continuance of your fellowship. For if we should return to our coenobium, it is certain not only that we shall relapse from so lofty a purpose, but also that, on account of the mediocrity of the life there, we shall be shaken by many losses. But that evangelical command vehemently deters us: Let your speech be yea, yea; nay, nay: for whatsoever is more than this is of evil. For we believe that the transgression of so great a precept can be compensated by no righteousness, nor that a thing rightly ends which was once begun with an evil beginning. JOSEPH:

In all cases, as we have said, it is not the progress of the deed, but the will of the doer that must be regarded; nor must it be inquired at once what anyone has done, but with what intention he did it—so that we find some to have been condemned for those deeds out of which good things afterward arose, and, on the contrary, some to have attained the highest righteousness through blameworthy acts. And neither did the useful outcome of the matter profit him who approached the matter with a most wicked intention and willed to work not that advantage which followed, but something contrary; nor did it harm him to have begun blameworthily who, not out of contempt for God nor with a purpose of sinning, but with a view to a necessary and holy end, endured the necessity of a blameworthy beginning.

And that we may illustrate these very things by examples of the holy Scriptures: what more wholesome, what more useful could have been procured for the whole world than the saving remedy of the Lord's passion? And yet it not only did not profit, but even so far harmed the betrayer by whose ministry it is proved to have been accomplished, that it is absolutely pronounced concerning him: It were good for that man if he had not been born. For not according to that which came to pass is the fruit of his work to be requited to him, but according to that which he willed to do, or believed that he would accomplish. And again, what is more criminal than deceit and lying committed even against a stranger—not to say against a full brother or a father?

And yet the patriarch Jacob not only incurred no condemnation or reproof for these things, but was even enriched with the perpetual inheritance of blessing. And not undeservedly, because the one coveted the blessing destined for the firstborn not out of avarice for present gain, but out of faith in perpetual sanctification; while the other delivered up the Redeemer of all to death, not with a view to the salvation of men, but by the crime of avarice. And therefore to each of them the fruit of his working was ascribed according to the destination of his mind and the purpose of his will, by which neither the one determined to work fraud, nor the other salvation.

For that is justly requited to each one for the recompense of reward which he chiefly conceived in his mind, not that which thence emerged, whether well or ill, against the will of the doer. And therefore the most just Judge judged the presumer of such a lie excusable—nay, even praiseworthy—because without it he could not attain to the blessing of the firstborn, nor ought that to be called into crime which arose out of the desire of the blessing. Otherwise the aforesaid patriarch would have been not only unjust toward his brother, but also a deceiver of his father and sacrilegious, if, having another way by which to arrive at the grace of that blessing, he had preferred to seek out this one which was harmful and hurtful to his brother.