For in a manner, whereas in the other kinds of vices, and indeed the graver and more harmful ones, we are wont to fall more indifferently and are not so easily pricked in their commission, in this our conscience is more particularly humbled; and through this illusion it is stung by the recollection also of neglected passions, evidently understanding itself made unclean by natural incitements—it which, while it was more unclean by spiritual vices, was ignorant of the fact—and, at once recurring to the amendment of its former sloth, it is admonished likewise that it ought not to trust in the successes of past purity, which it perceives it has lost by declining ever so little from the Lord, nor that it can possess the gift of this purification save by the grace of God alone; the very experiences of the matter in a manner teaching us that, if we delight to attain integrity of heart perpetually, we should study continually to possess the virtue of humility.
That the elation over this purity would be more pernicious than all crimes and outrages, and that on account of it we shall obtain no profit from any integrity of chastity whatsoever, those virtues are witnesses of which we made mention above, which, though they are believed to have had no such titillations of the flesh, were, on account of elation of heart alone, cast down by perpetual ruin from that sublime and heavenly station.
We should therefore be utterly without remedy in our lukewarmness, inasmuch as we should have no indicator of our negligence seated either in our body or in our own consciences; nor should we strive ever to attain to the fervour of perfection, but should not even keep the strictness of frugality or of continence, did not this titillation of the flesh, increasing, humble us and beat us down, and render us anxious and intent against the purgation of the spiritual vices as well.
Finally, in those who are eunuchs in body we discern that this lukewarmness of soul is for the most part present, because, as though absolved from this carnal necessity, they think themselves to need neither the labour of bodily continence nor the contrition of heart; and, relaxed by this security, they never hasten to seek in truth or to possess perfection of heart, nor even the purgation of the spiritual vices. Which state, departing from the carnal quality, is made 'animal' (natural), which is without doubt a worse degree. For it is this which, passing from the cold to the lukewarm, is marked out by the Lord's voice as more detestable. GERMANUS:
Concerning the usefulness of the struggle which is stirred up between flesh and spirit, it has, as far as it seems to us, been evidently expounded, so that we believe it has in a manner been made palpable to our very hands. And therefore we desire this account too to be likewise opened to us: what difference there is between the carnal and the animal (natural) man, or in what way the animal man can be worse than the carnal. DANIEL: According to the definition of Scripture there are three states of souls: the first carnal, the second animal (natural), the third spiritual. Which we read designated in the Apostle thus. For of the carnal it is said: I gave you milk to drink, not meat; for ye were not yet able. But neither indeed are ye now able, for ye are yet carnal; and again:
For where there is among you envy and contention, are ye not carnal? Of the animal (natural) man also it is thus recorded: But the animal man perceiveth not the things that are of the Spirit of God, for it is foolishness unto him. But of the spiritual: The spiritual man judgeth all things, yet he himself is judged of no man; and again: Ye who are spiritual, instruct such as are of this sort in the spirit of meekness.
Therefore we must hasten, so that when by renouncing we have ceased to be carnal—that is, when we have begun to be separated from the manner of life of worldly men and to cease from that manifest pollution of the flesh—we may strive with all our might straightway to lay hold of the spiritual state; lest perchance, flattering ourselves that we seem according to the outer man to have renounced this world or to have forsaken the contagions of carnal fornications, as though we had by this laid hold of the height of perfection, we thereafter become more remiss and slower toward the cleansing of the other passions, and, detained between the two, are unable to attain the degree of spiritual progress—thinking that it abundantly suffices us for perfection that we seem in the outer man to be set apart from the manner of life of this world and from its pleasures, or that we are free from carnal corruption and intercourse; and thus, being found in that lukewarm state which is judged most wretched, we may know that we are to be spewed out of the Lord's mouth, according to His sentence who speaks thus:
I would that thou wert hot or cold. But now thou art lukewarm, and I will begin to spew thee out of my mouth. And not undeservedly does the Lord declare that those whom He had already received into the bowels of His charity, being harmfully made lukewarm, are to be spewed out with a certain convulsion of His breast—those who, though they could in a manner have afforded Him wholesome sustenance, chose rather to be torn away from His bowels; being made so much the worse than those who were never brought as food to the Lord's mouth, by how much what we cast forth, compelled by nausea, we detest as the more odious. For whatever is cold, even when received into our mouth, is turned into warmth and is perceived with a health-giving sweetness.
But that which has once been cast off by the vice of pernicious lukewarmness, we cannot—I will not say, put to our lips—but even look upon from afar without vast horror. Most rightly, therefore, is he pronounced to be worse; because the carnal man, that is, the secular or heathen man, more easily approaches to a saving conversion and to the summit of perfection, than he who, having professed to be a monk, yet not seizing the way of perfection according to the rule of discipline, has once departed from that fire of spiritual fervour.
For the former, humbled at least by bodily vices and feeling himself unclean through carnal contagion, being at some time pricked in heart, will run to the fountain of true purification and to the summit of perfection; and shuddering at that most icy state of unbelief in which he is, kindled with the ardour of the spirit, he will fly the more easily to perfection. But he who, as we have said, having begun with a lukewarm start has begun to abuse the name of monk, and yet has not seized the way of this profession with the humility and fervour that he ought, once infected with this wretched plague and in a manner dissolved in it, can neither of himself thereafter savour perfect things nor be instructed by another's admonitions. For he says in his heart, according to that sentence of the Lord:
Because I am rich and increased with goods, and have need of nothing. To whom that also which follows will consequently be fitted: But thou art wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked. In this made even worse than the secular man, in that he knows himself neither wretched nor blind nor naked, nor worthy of amendment, nor in need of anyone's admonitions or instruction; and on this account he does not admit even any exhortation of the saving word, not understanding that by the very name of monk he is weighed down and pressed low in the opinion of all; whereby, while he is believed by all to be holy and is venerated as it were a servant of God, it is necessary that in the future he be subjected to a more vehement judgement and punishment. Finally, why do we linger longer on things which are sufficiently ascertained and proved to us by experience?
Frequently we have seen men come from the cold and carnal—that is, from the secular and pagan—to spiritual fervour; from the lukewarm and animal (natural) we have seen it not at all. Whom also we read that the Lord thus detests through the prophet, so that spiritual men and teachers are commanded to depart from admonishing and teaching them, and by no means to expend the seed of the saving word as it were on barren and unfruitful land occupied by harmful thorns, but, despising it, rather to cultivate new land—that is, to transfer toward the pagans and seculars all the tillage of doctrine and the earnestness of the saving word—which is thus read: Thus saith the Lord to the man of Judah and to the inhabitant of Jerusalem:
Break up for yourselves fresh ground, and sow not among thorns. Finally—which it is shameful to say—we behold very many to have renounced in such a way that they are proved to have changed nothing more of their former vices and manners than only their rank and secular garb. For they are eager to acquire moneys which they did not even possess before, or at any rate do not cease to retain those which they had had, or—what is more lamentable—even desire to increase them under this pretext, that they contend it to be just that they ought thence always to feed either their own servants or brethren; or at any rate they reserve them under the guise of gathering a community, which they presume that they, as abbots, are able to establish.
Whereas, if in truth they sought the way of perfection, they would rather strive to accomplish this with all their might: namely, that, stripped not only of moneys but also of former affections and of all distractions, they should place themselves, single and naked, under the command of elders, so as to bear the care not only of no others, but not even of themselves. But on the contrary it comes about that, while they hasten to preside over the brethren, they themselves are never made subject to elders; and beginning from pride, while they desire to instruct others, they merit neither to learn themselves nor to do the things that ought to be taught: who, according to the sentence of the Saviour, must needs, being blind leaders of the blind, fall together into the pit.
Of which pride, though it be of one kind, yet its species is twofold: the one which continually imitates seriousness and gravity, the other which is dissolved by unbridled licence into foolish guffaws and laughter. And the former indeed rejoices in taciturnity, but the latter disdains to be constrained by silence and is not ashamed to blurt out anywhere even incongruous and inept things, while it blushes to be judged inferior to the rest or more unlearned. The one, out of elation, seeks the office of the clergy; the other despises it, as judging it either unsuited or unworthy of its former dignity or of the merits of its life and birth. Which of these is to be pronounced the worse, let the judgement of each man discuss and weigh.
It is truly one and the same kind of disobedience to violate the elder's command, whether for the sake of pressing on with work or from a desire for leisure; and it is equally ruinous to overthrow the statutes of the monastery for sleep as for wakefulness; and to transgress the abbot's precept in order to read is just as much a fault as to despise it in order to sleep; nor is there any less kindling of pride in neglecting a brother for the sake of fasting than for the sake of a meal—except that those vices are more pernicious, and further removed from remedy, which seem to emerge under the appearance of virtues and the image of spiritual things, than those which are openly begotten for the sake of carnal pleasure.
For the latter, being as it were openly displayed and manifest ailments, are both reproved at close quarters and healed; but the former, so long as they are hidden under the pretext of virtues, remain uncured and make those whom they have deceived sicken more dangerously and more hopelessly. For consider how ridiculous it is that we see some men, after that first fervour of renunciation—by which, forsaking either their household affairs or their vast wealth and worldly service, they betook themselves to the monasteries—so bound up with such zeal in those things which cannot be wholly cut off, and which in this manner of life cannot but be possessed, however small and worthless they be, that their care for these surpasses the passionate attachment they once had for all their former possessions.
To such men it will surely profit little to have despised greater riches and possessions, since they have transferred to small and trifling things the very affection on account of which those riches ought to be despised. For by retaining, in regard to cheaper materials, the vice of covetousness and avarice which they cannot exercise upon precious objects, they prove that they have not cut off but merely exchanged their former passion. For being bound by excessive attachment in their care of a mat, a basket, a small cloak, a book, and other like things—however worthless—they are held by the very same craving as before; and these they guard and defend with such rivalry that they are not ashamed to be stirred up against a brother for their sake, and—what is more shameful—even to quarrel over them.
Among these, still labouring under the sickness of their former covetousness, some are not content to possess, according to the common number and measure, even those very things which the use of the body or necessity compels a monk to have; in this too betraying the avarice of their heart, since either they are more eager than the rest to have those things which it is necessary to use, or, exceeding the measure of due care, they guard more privately and more attentively, and defend from the handling of others, those things which ought to be common to all the brethren.
As though the guilt lay only in the difference of metals and not in the very passion of covetousness itself; as though it were unlawful to be angry over great things, but to have done this very same thing over cheaper things were without fault; and as though we did not cast away the more precious materials for this very purpose, that we might more easily learn to despise the meaner. For what difference does it make whether a man exercises the disturbance of covetousness upon ample and magnificent riches or upon meaner objects, except that he is to be judged more reprehensible in this, that one who has spurned the greatest is now bound by the least? And therefore this renunciation does not attain to perfection of heart, because, while it has the resources of a poor man, it has not cast off the will of a rich man.
Our coming to the cell of Abbot Sarapion, and inquiry concerning the kinds and assault of the vices. Abbot Sarapion's discourse on the eight principal vices. On the two kinds of vices and their fourfold mode of operation. A recapitulation concerning the passion of gluttony and fornication and their cure. How our Lord alone was tempted without sin. On the manner of temptation by which the Lord was assailed by the devil. On the consummation of vainglory and pride without any bodily agency. On avarice, that it is beyond nature, and what difference there is between it and the natural vices. On anger and sadness, that among the supervening vices they are for the most part (not) found.
On the concord of six of the vices and the kinship of two that stand apart from them. On the origin and quality of each vice. In what respect vainglory is useful. On the manifold assault of all the vices. On the manner of establishing warfare against the vices according to their own mode of attack. That we can do nothing against the vices without God's help, nor ought we to be exalted in victory over them. On the meaning of the seven nations whose lands Israel received, and why in one place seven, in another many nations are said to be. A question on the comparison of the seven nations and the eight vices. A reply, how the number of the eight nations is made up according to the eight vices. Why one nation indeed is commanded to be forsaken, but seven to be destroyed.
On the nature of gluttony, compared to the likeness of an eagle. On the persistence of gluttony, disputed against the philosophers. Why God foretold to Abraham that ten nations were to be conquered by the people of Israel. How it is profitable to us to possess the lands of the vices. That the lands from which the peoples of the Canaanites were driven out were assigned to the seed of Shem. Diverse testimonies concerning the meaning of the eight vices. That when the passion of gluttony has been overcome, labour must be expended to obtain the other virtues. That the order of the battles is not the same as that set down in the catalogue of the vices. In that assembly of the most ancient elders there was a man named Sarapion, adorned above all with the grace of discernment, whose conference I think it worth while to commit to writing.
For when we were begging him to discourse somewhat on the assault of the vices, whereby their origins and causes might be more clearly laid open, he thus began: There are eight principal vices which beset the human race, namely: first, gluttony, which means the gorging of the belly; second, fornication; third, avarice, that is, covetousness or the love of money; fourth, anger; fifth, sadness; sixth, acedia, that is, anxiety or weariness of heart; seventh, vainglory, that is, boastfulness or vain glory; eighth, pride. Now of these vices there are two kinds: for either they are natural, as gluttony, or beyond nature, as avarice. But their operation is fourfold.
For some cannot be consummated without carnal action, as gluttony and fornication; but some are accomplished even without any bodily action, as pride and vainglory. Some take the causes of their arousal from without, as avarice and anger; but others are stirred up by inward movements, as acedia and sadness.
And that we may make these same things clearer, not only by discourse as brief as we can, but also by the testimonies of the Scriptures: gluttony and fornication, though they are naturally in us (for sometimes they arise even without any incitement of the mind, by the mere instigation and itching of the flesh), yet nevertheless they need matter from without in order to be consummated, and thus come to their effect by bodily action. For each one is tempted by his own concupiscence; then concupiscence, when it has conceived, brings forth sin; but sin, when it is consummated, begets death.
For neither could the first Adam have been deceived through gluttony, unless, having the matter of food at hand, he had used it unlawfully; nor is the second tempted without the enticement of some material thing, when it is said to Him: If Thou be the Son of God, command that these stones be made bread. That fornication too is not accomplished except through the body is plain to all, thus with God saying of this spirit to blessed Job: And his strength is in his loins, and his power in the navel of his belly.
Therefore these two in particular, which are fulfilled by the agency of the flesh, need beyond that spiritual care of the soul a bodily continence as well, in a special way; since to blunt the stings of these the intention of the mind alone does not suffice (as it is sometimes wont to do against anger or sadness and the other passions, which the industry of the mind alone knows how to overcome even without any affliction of the flesh), unless bodily chastisement also be added, which is accomplished by fasts, vigils, and the wearing-down of toil, and to these be joined a change of place; because, just as they are begotten by the vice of both, that is, of soul and body, so they cannot be overcome except by the labour of both.
And although the blessed Apostle pronounced all the vices generally to be carnal—since he numbered enmities and wraths and heresies among the other works of the flesh—yet we, in order more carefully to gather together their cures and natures, distinguish them by a twofold division. For of these we say that some are carnal, but some spiritual. And those indeed are carnal which pertain especially to the nurture and sense of the flesh, in which the flesh so delights and feeds itself that it even incites quiet minds, and sometimes drags them against their will to the assent of its own desire.
Concerning these the blessed Apostle says: Among whom also we all had our conversation in times past in the desires of our flesh, doing the will of the flesh and of the thoughts, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest. But we call spiritual those which, arising from the impulse of the soul alone, not only confer no pleasure upon the flesh, but even, afflicting it with the gravest ailments, feed only the sick soul with the sustenance of a most wretched delight. And therefore these indeed need but a simple medicine of the heart; whereas those that are carnal come to health only by a twofold cure, as we have said.
Hence it profits those who are eager for purity very greatly first to withdraw from themselves the very materials of these carnal passions, by which either occasion or recollection of these same passions can be engendered in a soul still sick. For it is necessary that for a twofold disease a twofold cure be applied. For from the body, lest concupiscence should attempt to break out into effect, the enticing forms and material must necessarily be withdrawn; and from the soul likewise, lest it conceive them even in thought, a more attentive meditation on the Scriptures, and an ever-watchful solicitude, and the withdrawal of solitude must be usefully applied.
But in the remaining vices human fellowship does no harm; nay rather, it even profits greatly those who truly desire to be rid of them, since amid the throng of men they are more readily reproved, and while, being more frequently provoked, they are made manifest, they come to health by a speedy medicine.
And therefore our Lord Jesus Christ, although by the Apostle's sentence He is declared to have been tempted in all things according to our likeness, is nevertheless said to be without sin—that is, without the contagion of this passion—having by no means experienced the goads of carnal concupiscence, by which we needs are stung even unknowing and unwilling; for there was in Him no likeness of human sowing or conception, thus the manner of His conception being announced by the archangel: The Holy Spirit shall come upon thee, and the power of the Most High shall overshadow thee; therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.
For in those passions He too had to be tempted—possessing the uncorrupted image and likeness of God—in which Adam also was tempted while he still endured in that inviolate image of God, that is, in gluttony, vainglory, pride; not in those into which, after the transgression of the commandment, with the image and likeness of God violated, being now cast down by his own vice, he became entangled. For gluttony is that whereby he presumes to eat of the forbidden tree; vainglory that whereby it is said, 'Your eyes shall be opened'; pride that whereby it is said, 'Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.' In these three vices therefore we read that even the Lord and Saviour was tempted: in gluttony, when it is said to Him by the devil, 'Command that these stones be made bread'; in vainglory:
'If Thou be the Son of God, cast Thyself down'; in pride, when, showing Him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, he says, 'All these will I give Thee, if Thou wilt fall down and worship me'—that, being assailed by the same lines of temptation as he was, He might teach us also by His own example how we ought to conquer the tempter. And therefore that one is called Adam and this one Adam: the former first unto ruin and death, the latter first unto resurrection and life. Through the former the whole race of men is condemned; through the latter the whole race of men is set free. The former is fashioned from raw and untouched earth; the latter is begotten of the Virgin Mary. It was fitting, therefore, that He should take up its temptations, but not necessary that He should exceed them.
For He who had conquered gluttony could not be tempted by fornication, which proceeds from the abundance and root of the former—by which not even that first Adam would have been overthrown, unless before that generative passion he had, deceived by the enticements of the devil, admitted it. And for this reason the Son of God is said to have come not simply in the flesh of sin, but in the likeness of the flesh of sin; because, though there was in Him true flesh—eating, that is, and drinking and sleeping, receiving too the piercing of the nails in reality—yet the sin which He contracted by transgression He had not true, but imaginary.
For He did not experience the fiery goads of carnal concupiscence, which rise up in us, even against our will, by nature now administering them; but He took upon Himself a certain likeness of this by partaking of our nature. For when He fulfilled in truth all that belongs to our office, and bore all human infirmities, He was consequently thought to be subject to this passion also, so that through these infirmities He might seem to bear in His own flesh the very condition of this vice and sin. Finally, the devil tempts Him only in those vices in which he had deceived that first man, reckoning that this One too, as a man, might likewise be mocked in the rest, if he perceived Him overthrown in those by which he had cast down the former.
But, being confuted in the first contest, he could not bring against Him the second disease which sprouted from the root of the principal vice. For he saw that He had in no way taken up the initial cause of this sickness, and it was superfluous to hope for the fruit of sin from Him whose seeds or roots he perceived to have been in no wise received. Although, according to Luke—who places last that temptation in which it is said:
'If Thou be the Son of God, cast Thyself down'—this passion of pride can be understood, so that the earlier one which Matthew places third, in which, according to the aforesaid evangelist Luke, the devil, showing Him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time, makes promise, may be taken as the passion of avarice; namely, that after the victory over gluttony, not prevailing to tempt Him by fornication, he passed over to avarice, which he knew to be the root of all evils; and being overcome in this again, and not daring to bring against Him any of the vices which followed it—since he knew that these sprout from its root and kindling—he leapt over to the final passion of pride, by which he knew that even the most perfect, after all the vices are conquered, can be assailed; by which too he remembered that either he himself, when he was Lucifer, or many others, without any incitement of preceding passions, had fallen from the heavenly places.
According to this order therefore which we have named, which is described by the evangelist Luke, the very enticement and figure of the temptations, by which the most cunning enemy assails either that first Adam or this second Adam, most elegantly accords. For to the former he says, 'Your eyes shall be opened'; to the latter he shows all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. There he says, 'Ye shall be as gods'; here, 'If Thou be the Son of God.' And that we may treat, in the same order in which we set out, of the operations of the other passions also—the account of which the exposition of gluttony and of the Lord's temptation necessarily compelled us to break off—vainglory and pride are wont to be consummated even without any bodily agency.