The more magnificent and sublime the discourse of a teaching unknown to us has opened the arduous way of the loftiest renunciation, and, as though the mist of our eyes were removed, has shown its summit hidden in heaven, by so much the greater weight of despair are we pressed down. For measuring its immensity by the smallness of our own strength, and comparing the exceeding lowliness of our ignorance with the infinite loftiness of the virtue displayed, we perceive that our littleness not only cannot advance to that height, but can even fall away from that which it is. For, oppressed by the weights of excessive despair, we in a manner slip down from the lowest to lower things.
One thing, therefore, a single and unique safeguard, can bring healing to our wounds: that we learn something about the goal of penitence and, above all, about the sign of satisfaction, so that, being sure of the remission of our former sins, we may also be encouraged to scale the heights of the perfection spoken of. PINUFIUS:
I am indeed greatly delighted by the abundant fruits of your humility, which I perceived with no careless estimation when I was once received into the dwelling of that little cell; and I rejoice exceedingly that what is prescribed by me, the lowest of all Christians, perhaps only with freedom of words, you receive with such admiration that, while you fulfil these things (if I am not deceived) no less earnestly than they were spoken by us, and while, as I recall, the weight of what was said is almost matched by the labour of your work, you nevertheless so conceal the merit of your virtue as though no breath of those things which you daily practise had ever reached us.
But because this very thing is most worthy of the highest praise—that you testify these institutions of the saints to be as yet unknown to you, as though you were still beginners—we will set forth as briefly as we can what you diligently ask of us. For it is necessary that, beyond our capacity and strength, we obey the command of your ancient friendship. Now concerning the prayer for penitence, or its worth, many have published much not only in words but also in writings, showing how great is its usefulness, how great its power, and how great its grace, so that even when God is offended by past crimes and is already about to inflict a most just penalty for such great sins, it in some way (if it may be said) stands in the way and, as it were, checks the right hand of the avenger even against his will, if I may so speak.
But I do not doubt that all these things are so well known to you, whether from your natural wisdom or from your untiring study of the sacred letters, that from them came the first planting of your conversion. In short, being anxious not about the character of penitence, but about its end and about the sign of satisfaction, you inquire with a most shrewd question into that which has been passed over by others. Therefore, that your desire may be satisfied with all brevity and conciseness of statement, the full and perfect definition of penitence is this: that we should never again commit the sins for which we do penance, or by which our conscience is stung. But the sign of satisfaction and of pardon is to have expelled the very affection for them also from our hearts.
For let each one know that he is not yet absolved from his former sins so long as, while he is bent upon that satisfaction and those groanings, either the image of the deeds he did, or the picture of like crimes, plays before his eyes, and not (I will not say) the delight, but even the mere recollection of them assails his troubled mind. And so let him who keeps vigil for the sake of satisfaction then recognise that he is absolved from his crimes and has received pardon for his past deeds,
when he in no wise feels his heart drawn on by the enticements of those same vices or grazed even by their imagination. Wherefore a certain most truthful examiner of penitence and witness of pardon dwells within our conscience, who discloses to us the absolution of our guilt before the day of judgement and its verdict, while we still tarry in this flesh, and reveals the end of satisfaction and the grace of remission. And that these very things which have been said may be expressed more significantly: only then are we to believe that past defilements of vices have been remitted to us, when the desires and passions of present pleasures have alike been driven from our heart. GERMANUS:
But whence can there be born in us that so holy and salutary compunction of humiliation, which is described in the person of the penitent thus: 'I have made known my sin, and my injustice I have not hidden. I said: I will pronounce against myself my injustice to the Lord'—so that we may deserve also to say effectually what follows: 'And thou hast forgiven the impiety of my heart'? Or how, prostrate in prayer, shall we be able to rouse ourselves to tears of confession, through which we may deserve to obtain pardon of our offences, according to that word: 'I will wash my bed every night; I will water my couch with my tears'—if we thrust out from our hearts the memory of our sins, which on the contrary we are commanded to keep tenaciously, since the Lord says:
'And I will not remember thy iniquities; but do thou remember.' For this reason, not only working but also praying, I strive purposely to recall my mind to the remembrance of my sins, so that, being more effectually inclined to true humility and contrition of heart, I may dare to say with the prophet: 'See my humiliation and my labour, and forgive all my sins.' PINUFIUS: Your question, as has already been said above, was proposed not about the character of penitence, but about its end and about the sign of satisfaction; and to it, as I think, a fitting and consistent answer has been given.
For the rest, what you said about the recollection of sins is useful enough and necessary, but for those who are still doing penance, so that they may proclaim it with the constant contrition of their breast: 'For I acknowledge my iniquity, and my sin is always before me'; and also this: 'And I will think about my sin.' Therefore, while we are doing penance and are still stung by the recollection of our sinful deeds, it is necessary that a shower of tears, arising from the confession of our faults, extinguish the fire of our conscience.
But when for anyone fixed in this humility of heart and contrition of spirit, and persevering in labour and groaning, the recollection of these things has been lulled to sleep, and the thorn of conscience has by the grace of the pitying God been plucked out from the marrow of his soul, it is certain that he has arrived at the end of satisfaction and at the merits of pardon, and has been cleansed from the stain of the crimes committed. Yet to that forgetfulness one does not arrive otherwise than through the blotting out of former vices and affections, and through perfect and entire purity of heart.
This, without doubt, none of those who through sloth or contempt have neglected to purge their vices will attain, but only he who, persevering with unbroken constancy in groanings and mournful sighs, has boiled away all the stain of former filth and by strength of soul and by deed has cried out to the Lord: 'I have made known my offence, and my injustice I have not hidden,' and: 'My tears have been my bread day and night'—so that he may deservedly hear in turn: 'Let thy voice cease from weeping, and thine eyes from tears; for there is a reward for thy work, saith the Lord.' Let that also be likewise addressed to him by the voice of the Lord: 'I have blotted out thy iniquities as a cloud, and thy sins as a mist'; and again:
'I, even I, am he who blot out thine iniquities for mine own sake, and thy sins I will no more remember.' And thus, loosed from the cords of his own sins, by which each one is bound, he will sing to the Lord with all thanksgiving: 'Thou hast burst my bonds; to thee will I sacrifice a sacrifice of praise.' For after that general grace of baptism and that most precious gift of martyrdom, which is obtained by the washing of blood, there are many fruits of penitence, through which one arrives at the expiation of crimes. For eternal salvation is not promised under that simple name of penitence alone—about which the blessed apostle Peter says, 'Repent and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out,' and John the Baptist, and the Lord himself:
'Do penance, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand'—but also through the affection of charity is the mass of sins overwhelmed: 'for charity covereth a multitude of sins.' Likewise also through the fruit of almsgiving is healing granted to our wounds, because 'as water quencheth fire, so alms quencheth sin.' So too through the pouring forth of tears is the washing away of offences obtained: 'for I will wash my bed every night; I will water my couch with my tears.' Finally he adds, showing that they were not poured out in vain: 'Depart from me, all ye that work iniquity, for the Lord hath heard the voice of my weeping.' And also through the confession of crimes is the washing away of them granted: 'for I said:
I will pronounce against myself my injustice to the Lord; and thou hast forgiven the impiety of my heart'; and again: 'Declare thou thine iniquities first, that thou mayest be justified.' Through affliction also of heart and body is the remission of the crimes committed likewise obtained: for 'See,' he says, 'my humiliation and my labour, and forgive all my sins'; and especially through amendment of conduct: 'Take away,' he says, 'the evil of your thoughts from before mine eyes; cease to do perversely, learn to do well; seek judgement, relieve the oppressed, judge for the fatherless, defend the widow. And come, and accuse me, saith the Lord; and if your sins be as scarlet, they shall be made white as snow;
though they be red like crimson, they shall be as clean wool.' Sometimes also through the intercession of the saints is pardon of offences obtained: for 'he who knows his brother to sin a sin not unto death, let him ask, and he shall give him life, for one sinning not unto death'; and again: 'Is any man among you sick? Let him bring in the presbyters of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord; and the prayer of faith shall save the sick man, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he be in sins, they shall be forgiven him.' Sometimes by the merit of mercy and of faith is the stain of vices boiled away, according to that word: 'By mercy and faith are sins purged.'
Very often through the conversion and salvation of those who are saved by our admonitions and preaching, since 'he who shall cause a sinner to be converted from the error of his way shall save his soul from death, and shall cover a multitude of sins.' Through our own pardon and remission likewise we arrive at the pardon of our own crimes: 'for if you forgive men their sins, your heavenly Father will also forgive you your offences.' You see, therefore, how many approaches of mercy the clemency of the Saviour has laid open, so that no one desiring salvation may be broken by despair, when he sees himself invited to life by so many remedies.
For if you plead that on account of the weakness of the flesh you are unable to abolish your sins by the affliction of fastings, and cannot say: 'My knees are weakened by fasting, and my flesh is changed on account of oil, because I ate ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with weeping'—then redeem them by the bounty of almsgiving. If you have nothing to bestow on the needy (although necessity of want and poverty excludes no one from this work, since indeed the two mites only of that widow are preferred to the huge gifts of the rich, and the Lord promises that he will render a reward even for a cup of cold water)—then surely you can be purged by amendment of conduct.
But if you cannot attain the perfection of the virtues by the extinction of all vices, expend a pious solicitude for the benefit of another's salvation. But if you complain that you are also unfit for this ministry, you can cover sins by the affection of charity. In this too, if any sloth of mind has made you feeble, at least by prayer and the intercession of the saints implore remedies for your wounds, humbly bowed in the affection of humility. Finally, who is there that cannot say in supplication: 'I have made known my sin, and my injustice I have not hidden'? so that by this profession he may deserve to add also that:
'And thou hast forgiven the impiety of my heart.' But if, drawn back by shame, you blush to reveal these things before men, do not cease to confess them with constant supplication to him from whom they cannot be hidden, and to say to him: 'I acknowledge my iniquity, and my sin is always before me. Against thee only have I sinned, and done evil before thee'—to him who is wont both to heal without the publication of any shame, and to grant pardon of sin without reproach. After this so ready and sure aid, the divine condescension has bestowed on us yet another still easier, and has committed the very help of the remedy to our own choice, so that we may presume upon the pardon of our crimes according to our own disposition, saying to him:
'Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors.' Whoever, therefore, desires to attain the pardon of his own crimes, let him strive to fit himself to these instruments. Let no obstinacy of a hardened heart turn anyone away from the saving remedy and the fountain of such great mercy, because even if we do all these things, they would not be sufficient for the expiation of our crimes, unless the goodness and clemency of the Lord had blotted them out. And he, when he has perceived the services of a religious endeavour offered by us with a suppliant mind, follows up our slight and small efforts with an immense liberality, saying: 'I, even I, am he who blot out thine iniquities for mine own sake, and thy sins I will no more remember.'
To this state, therefore, which we have spoken of, whoever strives, he will attain the grace of satisfaction by daily fastings and by the mortification of heart and body, because, as it is written, 'without the shedding of blood there is no remission.' And not undeservedly. For 'flesh and blood cannot possess the kingdom of God.' And therefore whoever shall wish to hold back from this shedding of blood the sword of the spirit, which is the word of God, will without doubt be smitten by that curse of Jeremiah: for 'Cursed,' he says, 'is he that withholdeth his sword from blood.'
For this is the sword which, wholesomely shedding that ninth blood by which the matter of sins is enlivened, cuts away and severs whatever it finds concreted, carnal or earthly, in the members of our soul, and makes those things, mortified in their vices, live to God and flourish in spiritual virtues. And thus one will begin to weep no longer at the recollection of an old deed, but in hope of future joys, and, thinking not so much of past evils as of coming goods, will pour forth tears not from the grief of sins, but from the alacrity of that eternal gladness; and, forgetting the things that are behind—that is, the carnal vices—he will reach forward to the things that are before—that is, the spiritual gifts and virtues.
But as to what you said a little before, that you even purposely dwell again upon the memory of past sins—this ought by no means to be done; nay rather, if it steals in violently, let it be at once thrust out. For it greatly draws the mind away from the contemplation of purity, especially of him who abides in solitude, entangling it in the filth of this world and choking it with the stench of vices. For while you recall those things which you committed, according to the prince of this world, through ignorance or wantonness—granted that no delight steals in upon you set in this thought—yet the mere contagion of the old rottenness must needs corrupt the mind with a foul stench and shut out the spiritual fragrance of the virtues, that is, the sweetness of a good odour.
When, therefore, the memory of past vices has assailed the sense, one must recoil from it just as an honourable and grave man flees if he is accosted in public, either by the conversations or the embraces of a shameless and forward woman. And unless such a one hastily draws himself away from contact with her, and has admitted even the briefest delay of dishonourable talk, even though he reject the consent to shameful pleasure, he will nevertheless not escape the mark of infamy and reproach in the judgement of all who pass by. So therefore we too, when we have been led by a pestilent recollection to thoughts of this kind, ought quickly to depart from the contemplation of them and to fulfil that which is commanded by Solomon:
'But flee,' he says, 'delay not in her place, neither fix thine eye upon her'—lest the angels, seeing us wrapped up in unclean and base thoughts, be unable to say of us as they pass by: 'The blessing of the Lord be upon you.' For it is impossible for the mind to dwell upon good thoughts, when the ruling part of the heart has been rolled down to base and earthly gazings. For true is that saying of Solomon: 'When thine eyes have seen a strange woman, then shall thy mouth speak perverse things; and thou shalt lie as in the heart of the sea, and as a pilot in a great tempest. And thou shalt say: They struck me, but I was not pained; and they mocked me, but I knew it not.'
Having therefore forsaken not only base but also all earthly thoughts, the intention of our mind must ever be raised to heavenly things, according to the saying of our Saviour: 'For where I am,' he says, 'there also shall my minister be.' For it often happens that, while someone with a pitying affection dwells again upon either his own falls or those of others who are inexperienced, he too is grazed by a voluptuous assent to a most subtle dart, and closes with an obscene and harmful end a beginning that sprang up under the appearance of piety: 'for there are ways which seem right to men, but their last things come down into the depth of hell.'
Wherefore we must strive to rouse ourselves to praiseworthy compunction rather by the appetite for virtues and the desire for the kingdom of heaven than by harmful recollections of vices, because it is necessary that a man be choked by the most pestilent stenches of a sewer only so long as he wishes to stand over it or to stir up its mire. But let us know, as we have often said, that we have then at last made satisfaction for past sins, when the very motions and affections through which we committed the things to be repented of have been cut off from our hearts. Yet let no one believe that he can obtain this, unless he first, with all the fervour of his spirit, has cut down the very causes and materials on account of which he lapsed into those crimes:
so that, for example, if he has lapsed into fornication or adultery through a pernicious familiarity with women, let him with the utmost haste avoid even the very sight of them; or if he has been inflamed through an excess of wine and the immoderation of feasts, let him with the utmost strictness chastise the surfeit of enticing foods. And again, if he has fallen into perjury or theft or homicide or blasphemy, corrupted by the desire and love of money, let him cut away the material of avarice, the enticer of his deception. If he is driven into the vice of anger by the passion of pride, let him strike down the very tinder of arrogance by the supreme virtue of humility.
And thus, in order that each single sin may be extinguished, the cause and occasion through which or on account of which it was committed ought first to be cut away. For by this remedy of cures one arrives without doubt also at the forgetfulness of the crimes committed. But let this definition of the aforesaid forgetfulness be established only concerning capital crimes, which are also condemned by the Mosaic law; and as the affections for these are cast off or consumed through good conduct, so also does penitence for them receive an end. But for those slighter sins, in which, as it is written, 'the just man falls seven times and rises again,' penitence will never be lacking.
For either through ignorance, or through forgetfulness, or through thought, or through speech, or through surprise, or through necessity, or through the frailty of the flesh and the pollution of dreams, we frequently fall into them every single day, whether unwillingly or willingly; for which David also, praying to the Lord, beseeches purification and pardon, saying: 'Who understands his sins? From my hidden ones cleanse me, and from those of others spare thy servant.' And the apostle: 'For the good that I would, I do not; but the evil that I would not, that I do.' And for these the same man, wailing, cried out: 'Unhappy man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?'
For with so great an ease, as though by a natural law, do we slip into these, that, with however great circumspection and watchfulness they be guarded against, they cannot be fully avoided. Concerning these indeed, one of the disciples whom Jesus loved pronounces with an abrupt definition, saying: 'If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and his word is not in us.' Accordingly, for one desiring to reach the summit of perfection, it will profit little to have arrived at the end of penitence—that is, to abstain from unlawful things—unless he also, with untiring course, ever extend himself in those virtues by which one arrives at the signs of satisfaction.
For it will not suffice for anyone to have abstained from the foul filth of the crimes which the Lord abhors, unless he also possess, by purity of heart and by the perfection of apostolic charity, that good fragrance of the virtues in which the Lord delights. Thus far the abbot Pinufius discoursed concerning the sign of satisfaction and the end of penitence. And although with anxious affection he entreated that we might rather choose to remain in his coenobium, yet, invited by the fame of the solitude of Scete, when he could not retain us, he sent us forth. ON THE RELAXATION OF PENTECOST. THE CHAPTERS. How Theonas came to the abbot John. The exhortation of the abbot John to Theonas and to the others who had assembled with him. On the offering of tithes and firstfruits.
That Abraham, David, and the other saints went beyond the commands of the law. That those living under the grace of the gospel ought to surpass the legal commands. That the grace of the gospel, as it bestows the kingdom of heaven on the perfect, so it pardonably sustains the weak. That it is placed within our own power whether we wish to stand under the grace of the gospel or under the terror of the law. In what manner Theonas exhorted his wife also to renounce the world. In what manner, when his wife did not consent, he flew away to the monastery. A satisfaction, lest we seem to persuade spouses to separations. An inquiry why in Egypt there is no fasting throughout all the days of Pentecost, nor are the knees bent in prayer.
An answer concerning the nature of those things which are good, or bad, or intermediate. What kind of good fasting is. That fasting is not the principal good. That the principal good ought not to be exercised for the sake of an inferior good. How the principal good is distinguished from the other goods. On the reason and usefulness of fasting. That fasting is not always fitting. An inquiry why we relax fasting throughout all the days of Pentecost. An answer. An inquiry whether the relaxation of the fast of abstinence does not harm the chastity of the body. An answer concerning the observing of the temperance of continence. On the time and measure of refreshment. An inquiry concerning the diverse observance of Lent. An answer, in that the fast of Lent is referred to the tithes of the year.
How we ought also to offer our firstfruits to the Lord. Why Lent is observed by many with a different number of days. Why it is called Quadragesima (Forty), although the fasting is only for thirty-six days. That the perfect go beyond the law of Lent. On the cause and beginning of Lent. An inquiry in what manner it ought to be understood that the apostle says: 'Sin shall not have dominion over you.' An answer concerning the difference between grace and the precepts of the law. On the fact that the precepts of the gospel are lighter than those of the law. In what manner one is proved to be under grace. An inquiry why sometimes, when we fast more intensely, we are more sharply pressed by carnal incitements. An answer, that this question ought to be reserved for a future conference.
Before we begin to unfold the words of this conference held with that most excellent man, the abbot Theonas, I think it necessary that I briefly touch upon the beginning of his conversion, because from this either the merit of the man or his grace will be able to appear more evidently to the reader. This man, then, while still quite young, was bound by the bond of marriage through the zeal and command of his parents. For while they provide for his chastity with religious diligence and fear the perilous fall of a slippery age, they believed that the impulses of youth, which must be forestalled, should be met with the lawful remedy of marriage. When therefore he had spent one year with his wife, he came to the abbot John, who at that time, chosen by the merit of his wondrous sanctity, presided over the almonry.
For no one is advanced to this rank by his own will or ambition, but he whom the assembly of all the elders has judged, by the prerogative of age and by the testimony of his faith and virtues, to be more excellent and more exalted than all. To this John, I say, the blessed one, when the aforesaid young man had at that time come with the zeal of pious devotion, bringing religious offerings among the other proprietors who vied in offering to the aforesaid elder from their substances the tithes or firstfruits of their crops, and when the elder saw that they had flocked to him with many gifts and desired to repay their devotion in turn, he began, according to the apostle, to sow spiritual things for them, of whom he reaped carnal gifts.
Finally, he thus framed a discourse of exhortation. I am indeed delighted, O sons, by the pious bounty of your gifts, and I gratefully embrace the devotion of this offering, the dispensation of which has been entrusted to me, because you faithfully offer your firstfruits and tithes—to profit the uses of the needy—as a sacrifice of good sweetness to the Lord; believing, namely, that by the offering of these, the fullness also of the fruits and of your whole substance, from which you have poured out these first portions to the Lord, is to be abundantly blessed, and that you yourselves, according to the faith of that commandment, are to be heaped up even in this world with the manifold abundance of all good things: 'Honour the Lord with thy just labours, and offer to him of the firstfruits of thy righteousness,