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JOHN CASSIAN
THE TWELVE BOOKS
ON THE INSTITUTES OF THE COENOBIA
AND THE REMEDIES
FOR THE EIGHT PRINCIPAL FAULTS
BOOK V
OF THE SPIRIT OF GLUTTONY.
CHAPTER I.
The transition from the Institutes of the monks to the struggle against the
eight principal faults.
This fifth
book of ours is now by the help of God to be produced. For after the four
books which
have been
composed on the customs of the monasteries,
we now propose, being strengthened by God through your prayers, to approach
the struggle against the eight principal faults, i.e. first, Gluttony or the
pleasures of the palate; secondly, Fornication; thirdly, Covetousness, which
means Avarice, or, as it may more properly be called, the love of money, fourthly,
Anger; fifthly, Dejection; sixthly, "Accidie,''(4) which is heaviness
or weariness of heart; seventhly, <greek>kenodoxxa</greek> which
means foolish or vain glory; eighthly, pride. And on entering upon this difficult
task we need your prayers, O most blessed Pope Castor, more than ever; that
we may be enabled in the first place worthily to investigate the nature of
these in all points however trifling or hidden or obscure: and next to explain
with sufficient clearness the causes of them and thirdly to bring forward fitly
the cures and remedies for them.
CHAPTER II.
How the occasions of these faults, being found in everybody, are ignored by
everybody; and how we need the Lord's help to make them plain.
AND of
these passions as the occasions are recognized by everybody as soon as they
are laid open
by the teaching
of the elders, so before they are revealed,
although we are all overcome by them, and they exist in every one, yet nobody
knows of them. But we trust that we shall be able in some measure to explain
them, if by your prayers that word of the Lord, which was announced by Isaiah,
may apply to us also--"I will go before thee, and bring low the mighty
ones of the land, I will break the gates of brass, and cut asunder the iron
bars, and I will open to thee concealed treasures and hidden secrets"(1)--so
that the word of the Lord may go before us also, and first may bring low the
mighty ones of our land, i.e. these same evil passions which we are desirous
to overcome, and which claim for themselves dominion and a most horrible tyranny
in our mortal body; and may make them yield to our investigation and explanation,
and thus breaking the gates of our ignorance, and cutting asunder the bars
of vices which shut us out from true knowledge, may lead to the hidden things
of our secrets, and reveal to us who have been illuminated, according to the
Apostle's word, "the hidden things of darkness, and may make manifest
the counsels of the hearts,"(2) that thus penetrating with pure eyes of
the mind to the foul darkness of vices, we may be able to disclose them and
drag them forth to light; and may succeed in explaining their occasions and
natures to those who are either free from them, or are still tied and bound
by them, and so passing as the prophet says,(3) through the fire of vices which
terribly inflame our minds, we may be able forthwith to pass also through the
water of virtues which extinguish them unharmed, and being bedewed (as it were)
with spiritual remedies may be found worthy to be brought in purity of heart
to the consolations of perfection.
CHAPTER III.
How our first struggle must be against the spirit of gluttony, i.e. the pleasures
of the palate.
AND SO the first conflict we must enter upon is that against gluttony, which
we have explained as the pleasures of the palate: and in the first place as
we are going to speak of the system of fasts, and the quality of food, we must
again recur to the traditions and customs of the Egyptians, as everybody knows
that they contain a more advanced discipline in the matter of self-control,
and a perfect method of discrimination.
CHAPTER IV.
The testimony of Abbot Antony in which he teaches that each virtue ought to
be sought for from him who professes it in a special degree.
For it
is an ancient and excellent saying of the blessed Antony(4) that when a monk
is endeavouring
after the
plan of the monastic life to reach the heights
of a more advanced perfection, and, having learned the consideration of discretion,
is able now to stand in his own judgment, and to arrive at the very summit
of the anchorite's life, he ought by no means to seek for all kinds of virtues
from one man however excellent. For one is adorned with flowers of knowledge,
another is more strongly fortified with methods of discretion, another is established
in the dignity of patience, another excels in the virtue of humility, another
in that of continence, another is decked with the grace of simplicity. This
one excels all others in magnanimity, that one in pity, another in vigils,
another in silence, another in earnestness of work. And therefore the monk
who desires to gather spiritual honey, ought like a most careful bee, to suck
out virtue from those who specially possess it, and should diligently store
it up in the vessel of his own breast: nor should he investigate what any one
is lacking in, but only regard and gather whatever virtue he has. For if we
want to gain all virtues from some one person, we shall with great difficulty
or perhaps never at all find suitable examples for us to imitate. For though
we do not as yet see that even Christ is made "all things in all," as
the Apostle says;(1) still in this way we can find Him bit by bit in all. For
it is said of Him, "Who was made of God to you wisdom and righteousness
and sanctification and redemption."(2) While then in one there is found
wisdom, in another righteousness, in another sanctification, in another kindness,
in another chastity, in another humility, in another patience, Christ is at
the present time divided, member by member, among all of the saints. But when
all come together into the unity of the faith and virtue, He is formed into
the "perfect man,"(3) completing the fulness of His body, in the
joints and properties of all His members. Until then that time arrives when
God will be "all in all," for the present God can in the way of which
we have spoken be "in all," through particular virtues, although
He is not yet "all in all" through the fulness of them. For although
our religion has but one end and aim, yet there are different ways by which
we approach God, as will be more fully shown in the Conferences of the Elders.(4)
And so we must seek a model of discretion and continence more particularly
from those from whom we see that those virtues flow forth more abundantly through
the grace of the Holy Spirit; not that any one can alone acquire those things
which are divided among many, but in order that in those good qualities of
which we are capable we may advance towards the imitation of those who especially
have acquired them.
CHAPTER V.
That one and the same rule of fasting cannot be observed by everybody.
AND so on the manner of fasting a uniform rule cannot easily be observed,
because everybody has not the same strength; nor is it like the rest of the
virtues, acquired by steadfastness of mind alone. And therefore, because it
does not depend only on mental firmness, since it has to do with the possibilities
of the body, we have received this explanation concerning it which has been
handed down to us, viz.: that there is a difference of time, manner, and quality
of the refreshment in proportion to the difference of condition of the body,
the age, and sex: but that there is one and the same rule of restraint to everybody
as regards continence of mind, and the virtue of the spirit. For it is impossible
for every one to prolong his fast for a week, or to postpone taking refreshment
during a two or three days' abstinence. By many people also who are worn out
with sickness and especially with old age, a fast even up to sunset cannot
be endured without suffering. The sickly food of moistened beans does not agree
with everybody: nor does a sparing diet of fresh vegetables suit all, nor is
a scanty meal of dry bread permitted to all alike. One man does not feel satisfied
with two pounds, for another a meal of one pound, or six ounces, is too much;
but there is one aim and object of continence in the case of all of these,
viz.: that no one may be overburdened beyond the measure of his appetite, by
gluttony. For it is not only the quality, but also the quantity of food taken
which dulls the keenness of the mind, and when the soul as well as the flesh
is surfeited, kindles the baneful and fiery incentive to vice.
CHAPTER VI.
That the mind is not intoxicated by wine alone.
THE belly
when filled with all kinds of food gives birth to seeds of wantonness, nor
can the mind,
when
choked with the weight of food, keep the guidance and
government of the thoughts. For not only is drunkenness with wine wont to intoxicate
the mind, but excess of all kinds of food makes it weak and uncertain, and
robs it of all its power of pure and clear contemplation. The cause of the
overthrow and wantonness of Sodom was not drunkenness through wine, but fulness
of bread. Hear the Lord rebuking Jerusalem through the prophet. "For how
did thy sister Sodom sin, except in that she ate her bread in fulness and abundance?"(5)
And because through fulness of bread they were inflamed with uncontrollable
lust of the flesh, they were burnt up by the judgment of God with fire and
brimstone from heaven. But if excess of bread alone drove them to such a headlong
downfall into sin through the vice of satiety, what shall we think of those
who with a vigorous body dare to partake of meat and wine with unbounded licence,
taking not just what their bodily frailty demands, but what the eager desire
of the mind suggests.
CHAPTER VII.
How bodily weakness need not interfere with purity of heart.
BODILY weakness is no hindrance to purity of heart, if only so much food is
taken as the bodily weakness requires, and not what pleasure asks for. It is
easier to find men who altogether abstain from the more fattening kinds of
foods than men who make a moderate use of what is allowed to our necessities;
and men who deny themselves everything out of love of continence than men who
taking food on the plea of weakness preserve the due measure of what is sufficient.(1)
For bodily weakness has its glory of self-restraint, where though food is permitted
to the failing body, a man deprives himself of his refreshment. although he
needs it, and only indulges in just so much food as the strict judgment of
temperance decides to be sufficient for the necessities of life, and not what
the longing appetite asks for. The more delicate foods, as they conduce to
bodily health, so they need not destroy the purity of chastity, if they are
taken in moderation. For whatever strength(2) is gained by partaking of them
is used up in the toil and waste of car. Wherefore as no state of life can
be deprived of the virtue of abstinence, so to none is the crown of perfection
denied.
CHAPTER VIII.
How food should be taken with regard to the aim at perfect continence.(3)
AND so
it is a very true and most excellent saying of the Fathers that the right
method of fasting
and abstinence
lies in the measure of moderation and
bodily chastening; and that this is the aim of perfect virtue for all alike,
viz.: that though we are still forced to desire it, yet we should exercise
self-restraint in the matter of the food, which we are obliged to take owing
to the necessity of supporting the body. For even if one is weak in body, he
can attain to a perfect virtue and one equal to that of those who are thoroughly
strong and healthy, if with firmness of mind he keeps a check upon the desires
and lusts which are not due to weakness of the flesh. For the Apostle says: "And
take not care for the flesh in its lusts."(4) He does not forbid care
for it in every respect: but says that care is not to be taken in regard to
its desires and lusts. He cuts away the luxurious fondness for the flesh: he
does not exclude the control necessary for life: he does the former, lest through
pampering the flesh we should be involved in dangerous entanglements of the
desires; the latter lest the body should be injured by our fault and unable
to fulfil its spiritual and necessary duties.
CHAPTER IX.
Of the, measure of the chastisement to be undertaken, and the remedy of fasting.
THE perfection then of abstinence is not to be gathered from calculations
of time alone, nor only from the quality of the food; but beyond everything
from the judgment of conscience. For each one should impose such a sparing
diet on himself as the battle of his bodily struggle may require. The canonical
observance of fasts is indeed valuable and by all means to be kept. But unless
this is followed by a temperate partaking of food, one will not be able to
arrive at the goal of perfection. For the abstinence of prolonged fasts--where
repletion of body follows--produces weariness for a time rather than purity
and chastity. Perfection of mind indeed depends upon the abstinence of the
belly. He has no lasting purity and chastity, who is not contented always to
keep to a well-balanced and temperate diet. Fasting, although severe, yet if
unnecessary relaxation follows, is rendered useless, and presently leads to
the vice of gluttony. A reasonable supply of food partaken of daily with moderation,
is better than a severe and long fast at intervals. Excessive fasting has been
known not only to undermine the constancy of the mind, but also to weaken the
power of prayers through sheer weariness of body.
CHAPTER X.
That abstinence from food is not of itself sufficient for preservation of
bodily and mental purity.
Is order to preserve the mind and body in a perfect condition abstinence from
food is not alone sufficient: unless the other virtues of the mind as well
are joined to it. And so humility must first be learned by the virtue of obedience,
and grinding toil(1) and bodily exhaustion. The possession of money must not
only be avoided, but the desire for it must be l utterly rooted out. For it
is not enough not to possess it,--a thing which comes to many as a matter of
necessity: but we ought, if by chance it is offered, not even to admit the
wish to have it. The madness of anger should be controlled; the downcast look
of dejection be overcome; vainglory should be despised, the disdainfulness
of pride trampled under foot, and the shifting and wandering thoughts of the
mind restrained by continual recollection of God. And the slippery wanderings
of our heart should be brought back again to the contemplation of God as often
as our crafty enemy, in his endeavour to lead away the mind a captive from
this consideration, creeps into the innermost recesses of the heart.
CHAPTER XI.
That bodily lusts are not extinguished except by the entire rooting out of
vice.
FOR it is an impossibility that the fiery motions of the body can be extinguished,
before the incentives of the other chief vices are utterly rooted out: concerning
which we will speak in their proper place, if God permits, separately, in different
books. But now we have to deal with Gluttony, that is the desire of the palate,
against which our first battle is. He then will never be able to check the
motions of a burning lust, who cannot restrain the desires of the appetite.
The chastity of the inner man is shown by the perfection of this virtue. For
you will never feel sure that he can strive against the opposition of a stronger
enemy, whom you have seen overcome by weaker ones in a higher conflict. For
of all virtues the nature is but one and the same, although they appear to
be divided into many different kinds and names: just as there is but one substance
of gold, although it may seem to be distributed through many different kinds
of jewelry according to the skill of the goldsmith. And so he is proved to
possess no virtue perfectly, who is known to have broken down in some part
of them. For how can we believe that that man has extinguished the burning
heats of concupiscence (which are kindled not only by bodily incitement but
by vice of the mind), who could not assuage the sharp stings of anger which
break out from intemperance of heart alone? Or how can we think that he has
repressed the wanton desires of the flesh and spirit, who has not been able
to conquer the simple fault of pride? Or how can we believe that one has trampled
under foot a wantonness which is ingrained in the flesh, who has not been able
to disown the love of money, which is something external and outside our own
substance? In what way will he triumph in the war of flesh and spirit, who
has not been man enough to cure the disease of dejection? However great a city
may be protected by the height of its walls and the strength of its closed
gates, yet it is laid waste by the giving up of one postern however small.
For what difference does it make whether a dangerous foe makes his way into
the heart of the city over high walls, and through the wide spaces of the gate,
or through secret and narrow passages?
CHAPTER XII.
That in our spiritual contest we ought to draw an example from the carnal
contests.
"ONE who strives. in the games is not crowned unless he has contended
lawfully."(2) One who wants to extinguish the natural desires of the flesh,
should first hasten to overcome those vices whose seat is outside our nature.
For if we desire to make trial of the force of the Apostle's saying, we ought
first to learn what are the laws and what the discipline of the world's contest,
so that finally by a comparison with these, we may be able to know what the
blessed Apostle meant to teach to us who are striving in a spiritual contest
by this illustration. For in these conflicts, which, as the same Apostle says,
hold out "a corruptible crown"(3) to the victors, this rule is kept,
that he who aims at preparing himself for the crown of glory, which is embellished
with the privilege of exemption, and who is anxious to enter the highest struggle
in the contest, should first in the Olympic and Pythian games give evidence
of his abilities as a youth, and his strength in its first beginnings; since
in these the younger men who want to practise this training are tested as to
whether they deserve or ought to be admitted to it, by the judgment both of
the president of the games and of the whole multitude. And when any one has
been carefully tested, and has first been proved to be stained by no infamy
of life, and then has been adjudged not ignoble through the yoke of slavery,
and for this reason unworthy to be admitted to this training and to the company
of those who practise it, and when thirdly he produces sufficient evidence
of his ability and prowess and by striving with the younger men and his own
compeers has shown both his skill and valour as a youth, and going forward
from the contests of boys has been by the scrutiny of the president permitted
to mix with full-grown men and those of approved experience, and has not only
shown himself their equal in valour by constant striving with them, but has
also many a time carried off the prize of victory among them, then at last
he is allowed to approach the most illustrious conflict of the games, permission
to contend in which is granted to none but victors and those who are decked
with many crowns and prizes. If we understand this illustration from a carnal
contest, we ought by a comparison with it to know what is the system and method
of our spiritual conflict as well.
CHAPTER XIII.
That we cannot enter the battle of the inner man unless we have been set free
from the vice of gluttony.
WE also
ought first to give evidence of our freedom from subjection to the flesh.
For "of whom a man is overcome, of the same is he the slave."(1)
And "every one that doeth sin slave of sin."(2)And when the scrutiny
is the of the president of the contest finds that we are stained by no infamy
of disgraceful lust, and when we are judged by him not to be slaves of the
flesh, and ignoble and unworthy of the Olympic struggle against our vices,
then we shall be able to enter the lists against our equals, that is the lusts
of the flesh and the motions and disturbances of the soul. For it is impossible
for a full belly to make trial of the combat of the inner man: nor is he worthy
to be tried in harder battles, who can be overcome in a slight skirmish.
CHAPTER XIV.
How gluttonous desires can be overcome.
FIRST then we must trample under foot gluttonous desires, and to this end
the mind must be reduced not only by fasting, but also by vigils, by reading,
and by frequent compunction of heart for those things in which perhaps it recollects
that it has been deceived or overcome, sighing at one time with horror at sin,
at another time inflamed with the desire of perfection and saintliness: until
it is fully occupied and possessed by such cares and meditations, and recognizes
the participation of food to be not so much a concession to pleasure, as a
burden laid upon it; and considers it to be rather a necessity for the body
than anything desirable for the soul. And, preserved by this zeal of mind and
continual compunction, we shall beat down the wantonness of the flesh (which
becomes more proud and haughty by being fomented with food) and its dangerous
incitement, and so by the copiousness of our tears and the weeping of our heart
we shall succeed in extinguishing the fiery furnace of our body, which is kindled
by the Babylonish king(3) who continually furnishes us with opportunities for
sin, and vices with which we burn more fiercely, instead of naphtha and pitch--until,
through the grace of God, instilled like dew by His Spirit in our hearts, the
heats of fleshly lusts can be altogether deadened. This then is our first contest,
this is as it were our first trial in the Olympic games, to extinguish the
desires of the palate and the belly by the longing for perfection. On which
account we must not only trample down all unnecessary desire for food by the
contemplation of the virtues, but also must take what is necessary for the
support of nature, not without anxiety of heart, as if it were opposed to chastity.
And so at length we may enter on the course of our life, so that there may
be no time in which we feel that we are recalled from our spiritual studies,
further than when we are obliged by the weakness of the body to descend for
the needful care of it. And when we are subjected to this necessity--of attending
to the wants of life rather than the desires, of the soul--we should hasten
to withdraw as quickly as possible from it, as if it kept us back from really
health-giving studies. For we cannot possibly scorn the gratification of food
presented to us, unless the mind is fixed on the contemplation of divine things,
and is the rather entranced with the love of virtue and the delight of things
celestial. And so a man will despise all things present as transitory, when
he has securely fixed his mental gaze on, those things which are immovable
and eternal, and already contemplates in heart--though still in the flesh--the
blessedness of his future life.
CHAPTER XV.
How a monk must always be eager to preserve his purity of heart.
IT is like the case when one endeavours to strike some mighty prize of virtue
on high. pointed out by some very small mark; with the keenest eyesight he
points the aim of his dart, knowing that large rewards of glory and prizes
depend on his hitting it; and he turns away his gaze from every other consideration,
and must direct it thither, where he sees that the reward and prize is placed,
because he would be sure to lose the prize of his skill and the reward of his
prowess if the keenness of his gaze should be diverted ever so little.(1)
CHAPTER XVI.
How, after the fashion of the Olympic games, a monk should not attempt spiritual
conflicts unless he has won battles over the flesh.
AND so
when the desires of the belly and of the palate have been by these considerations
overcome,
and when
we have been declared, as in the Olympic
contests, neither slaves of the flesh nor infamous through the brand of sin,
we shall be adjudged to be worthy of the contest in higher struggles as well,
and, leaving behind lessons of this kind, may be believed capable of entering
the lists against spiritual wickednesses, against which only victors and those
who are allowed to contend in a spiritual conflict are deemed worthy to struggle.
For this is so to speak a most solid foundation of all the conflicts, viz.:
that in the first instance the impulses of carnal desires should be destroyed.
For no one can lawfully strive unless his own flesh has been overcome. And
one who does not strive lawfully certainly cannot take a share in the contest,
nor win a crown of glory and the grace of victory. But if we have been overcome
in this battle, having been proved as it were slaves of carnal lusts, and thus
displaying the tokens neither of freedom nor of strength, we shall be straightway
repulsed from the conflicts with spiritual hosts, as unworthy and as slaves,
with every mark of confusion. For "every one that doeth sin is the servant
of sin."(2) And this will be addressed to us by the blessed Apostle, together
with those among whom fornication is named. "Temptation does not overtake
you, except such as is human."(3) For if we do not seek for strength of
mind(4) we shall not deserve to make trial of severer contest against wickedness
on high, if we have been unable to subdue our weak flesh which resists the
spirit. And some not understanding this testimony of the Apostle, have read
the subjunctive instead of the indicative mood, i.e. , "Let no temptation
overcome you, except such as is human."(5) But it is clear that it is
rather said by him with the meaning not of a wish but of a declaration or rebuke.
CHAPTER XVII.
That the foundation and basis of the spiritual combat must be laid in the
struggle against gluttony.
WOULD
YOU like to hear a true athlete of Christ striving according to the rules
and laws of the
conflict? "I," said he, "so run, not as
uncertainly; I so fight, not as one that beateth the air: but I chastise my
body and bring it into subjection, lest by any means when I have preached to
others I myself should be a castaway."(6) You see how he made the chief
part of the struggle depend upon himself, that is upon his flesh, as if on
a most sure foundation, and placed the result of the battle simply in the chastisement
of the flesh and the subjection of his body. "I then so run not as uncertainly." He
does not run uncertainly, because,(7) looking to the heavenly Jerusalem, he
has a mark set, towards which his heart is swiftly directed without swerving.
He does not run uncertainly, because, "forgetting those things which are
behind, he reaches forth to those that are before, pressing towards the mark
for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus,"(8) whither
he ever directs his mental gaze, and hastening towards it with all speed(9)
of heart, proclaims with confidence, "I have fought a good fight, I have
finished my course, I have kept the faith."(1) And because he knows he
has run unweariedly "after the odour of the ointment" a of Christ
with ready devotion of heart, and has won the battle of the spiritual combat
by the chastisement of the flesh, he boldly concludes and says, "Henceforth
there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous
judge, will give to me in that day." And that e might open up to us also
a like hope of reward, if we desire to imitate him in the struggle of his course,
he added: "But not to me only, but to all also who love His coming;"(3)
declaring that we shall be sharers of his crown in the day of judgment, if
we love the coming of Christ--not that one only which will be manifest to men
even against their will; but also this one which daily comes to pass in holy
souls--and if we gain the victory in the fight by chastising the body. And
of this coming it is that the Lord speaks in the Gospel. "I," says
He, "and my Father will come to him, and will make our abode with him."(4)
And again: "Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my
voice and open the gate, I will come in to him and will sup with him, and he
with me."(5)
CHAPTER XVIII.
Of the number of different conflicts and victories through which the blessed
Apostle ascended to the crown of the highest.
BUT he
does not mean that he has only finished the contest of a race when he says "I so run, not as uncertainly" (a phrase which has more particularly
to do with the intention of the mind and fervour of his spirit, in which he
followed Christ with all zeal, crying out with the Bride, "We will run
after thee for the odour of thine ointments;"(6) and again, "My soul
cleaveth unto thee:"(7) but he also testifies that he has conquered in
another kind of contest, saying, "So fight I, not as one that beateth
the air, but I chastise my body and bring it into subjection." And this
properly has to do with the pains of abstinence, and bodily fasting and affliction
of the flesh: as he means by this that he is a vigorous bruiser of his own
flesh, and points out that not in vain has he planted his blows of Continence
against it; but that he has gained a battle triumph by mortifying his own body;
for when it is chastised with the blows of continence and struck down with
the boxing-gloves of fasting, he has secured for his victorious spirit the
crown of immortality and the prize of incorruption. You see the orthodox method
of the contest, and consider the issue of spiritual combats: how the athlete
of Christ having gained a victory over the rebellious flesh, having cast it
as it were under his feet, is carried forward as triumphing on high. And therefore "he
does not run uncertainly," because he trusts that he will forthwith enter
the holy city, the heavenly Jerusalem. He "so fights," that is with
fasts and humiliation of the flesh, "not as one that beateth the air," that
is, striking into space with blows of continence, through which he struck not
the empty air, but those spirits who inhabit it, by the chastisement of his
body. For one who says "not as one that beateth the air," shows that
he strikes--not empty and void air, but certain beings in the air. And because
he had overcome in this kind of contest, and marched on enriched with the rewards
of many crowns, not undeservedly does he begin to enter the lists against still
more powerful foes, and having triumphed over his former rivals, he boldly
makes proclamation and says, "Now our striving is not against flesh and
blood, but against principalities, against powers, against world-rulers of
this darkness, against spiritual wickedness in heavenly places."(8)
CHAPTER XIX.
That the athlete of Christ, so long as he is in the body, is never without
a battle.
THE athlete
of Christ, as long as he is in the body, is never in want of a victory to
be gained
in contests:
but in proportion as he grows by triumphant
successes, so does a severer kind of struggle confront him. For when the flesh
is subdued and conquered, what swarms of foes, what hosts of enemies are incited
by his triumphs and rise up against the victorious soldier of Christ! for fear
lest in the ease of peace the soldier of Christ might relax his efforts and
begin to forget the glorious struggles of his contests, and be rendered slack
through the idleness which is caused by immunity from danger, and be cheated
of the reward of his prizes and the recompense of his triumphs. And so if we
want to rise with ever-growing virtue to these stages of triumph we ought also
in the same way to enter the lists of battle and begin by saying with the Apostle: "I
so fight, not as one that beateth the air, but I chastise my body and bring
it into subjection,"(1) that when this conflict is ended we may once more
be able to say with him: "we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but
against principalities, against powers, against world-rulers of this darkness,
against spiritual wickedness in heavenly places."(2) For otherwise we
cannot possibly join battle with them nor deserve to make trial of spiritual
combats if we are baffled in a carnal contest, and smitten down in a struggle
with the belly: and deservedly will it be said of us by the Apostle in the
language of blame: "Temptation does not overtake you, except what is common
to man."(3)
CHAPTER XX.
How a monk should not overstep the proper hours for taking food, if he wants
to proceed to the struggle of interior conflicts.
A MONK therefore who wants to proceed to the struggle of interior conflicts
should lay down this as a precaution for himself to begin with: viz.: that
he will not in any case allow himself to be overcome by any delicacies, or
take anything to eat or drink before the fast(4) is over and the proper hour
for refreshment has come, outside meal times;(5) nor, when the meal is over,
will he allow himself to take a morsel however small; and likewise that he
will observe the canonical time and measure of sleep. For that self-indulgence
must be cut off in the same way that the sin of unchastity has to be rooted
out. For if a man is unable to check the unnecessary desires of the appetite
how will he be able to extinguish the fire of carnal lust? And if a man is
not able to control passions, which are openly manifest and are but small,
how will he be able with temperate discretion to fight against those which
are secret, and excite him, when none are there to see? And therefore strength
of mind is tested in separate impulses and in any sort of passion: and if it
is overcome in the case of very small and manifest desires, how it will endure
in those that are really great and powerful and hidden, each man's conscience
must witness for himself.
CHAPTER XXI.
Of the inward peace of a monk, and of spiritual abstinence;
For it
is not an external enemy whom we have to dread. Our foe is shut up within
ourselves: an internal
warfare
is daily waged by us: and if we are victorious
in this, all external things will be made weak, and everything will be made
peaceful and subdued for the soldier of Christ. We shall have no external enemy
to fear, if what is within is overcome and subdued to the spirit. And let us
not believe that that external fast from visible food alone can possibly be
sufficient for perfection of heart and purity of body unless with it there
has also been united a fast of the soul. For the soul also has its foods which
are harmful, fattened on which, even without superfluity of meats, it is involved
in a downfall of wantonness. Slander is its food, and indeed one that is very
dear to it. A burst of anger also is its food, even if it be a very slight
one; yet supplying it with miserable food for an hour, and destroying it as
well with its deadly savour. Envy is a food of the mind, corrupting it with
its poisonous juices and never ceasing to make it wretched and miserable at
the prosperity and success of another. Kenodoxia, i.e., vainglory is its food,
which gratifies it with a delicious meal for a time; but afterwards strips
it clear and bare of all virtue, and dismisses it barren and void of all spiritual
fruit, so that it makes it not only lose the rewards of huge labours, but also
makes it incur heavier punishments. All lust and shifty wanderings of heart
are a sort of food for the soul, nourishing it on harmful meats, but leaving
it afterwards without share of the heavenly bread and of really solid food.
If then, with all the powers we have, we abstain from these in a most holy
fast, our observance of the bodily fast will be both useful and profitable.
For labour of the flesh, when joined with contrition of the spirit, will produce
a sacrifice that is most acceptable to God, and a worthy shrine of holiness
in the pure and undefiled inmost chambers of the heart. But if, while fasting
as far as the body is concerned, we are entangled in the most dangerous vices
of the soul, our humiliation of the flesh will do us no good whatever, while
the most precious part of us is defiled: since we go wrong through that substance
by virtue of which we are made a shrine of the Holy Ghost. For it is not so
much the corruptible flesh as the clean heart, which is made a shrine for God,
and a temple of the Holy Ghost. We ought therefore, whenever the outward man
fasts, to restrain the inner man as well from food which is bad for him: that
inner man, namely, which the blessed Apostle above all urges us to present
pure before God, that it may be found worthy to receive Christ as a guest within,
saying "that in the inner man Christ may dwell in your hearts through
faith. "(1)
CHAPTER XXII.
That we should for this reason practise bodily abstinence that we may by it
attain to a spiritual fast.
AND So
we know that we ought therefore to bestow attention on bodily abstinence,
that we may by
this fasting attain
to purity of heart. Otherwise our labours
will be spent in vain, if we endure this without weariness, in contemplating
the end, but are unable to reach the end for which we have endured such trials;
and it would have been better to have abstained from the forbidden foods of
the soul than to have fasted with the body from things indifferent and harmless,
for in the case of these latter there is a simple and harmless reception of
a creature of God, which in itself has nothing wrong about it: but in the case
of the former there is at the very first a dangerous tendency to devour the
brethren; of which it is said, "Do not love backbiting lest thou be rooted
out."(2) And concerning anger and jealousy the blessed Job says: "For
anger slayeth a fool, and envy killeth a child."(3) And at the same time
it should be noticed that he who is angered is set down as a fool; and he who
is jealous, as a child. For the former is not undeservedly considered a fool,
since of his own accord he brings death upon himself, being goaded by the stings
of anger; and the latter, while he is envious, proves that he is a child and
a minor, for while he envies another he shows that the one at whose prosperity
he is vexed, is greater than he.
CHAPTER XXIII.
What should be the character of the monk's food.
We should then choose for our food, not only that which moderates the heat
of burning lust, and avoids kindling it; but what is easily got ready, and
what is recommended by its cheapness, and is suitable to the life of the brethren
and their common use. For the nature of gluttony is threefold: first, there
is that which forces us to anticipate the proper hour for a meal, next that
which delights in stuffing the stomach, and gorging all kinds of food; thirdly,
that which takes pleasure in more refined and delicate feasting. And so against
it a monk should observe a threefold watch: first, he should wait till the
proper time for breaking the fast; secondly, he should not give way to gorging;
thirdly, he should be contented with any of the commoner sorts of food. For
anything that is taken over and above what is customary and the common use
of all, is branded by the ancient tradition of the fathers as defiled with
the sin of vanity and glorying and ostentation. Nor of those whom we have seen
to be deservedly eminent for learning and discretion, or whom the grace of
Christ has singled out as shining lights for every one to imitate, have we
known any who have abstained from eating bread which is accounted cheap and
easily to be obtained among them; nor have we seen that any one who has rejected
this rule and given up the use of bread and taken to a diet of beans or herbs
or fruits, has been reckoned among the most esteemed, or even acquired the
grace of knowledge and discretion. For not only do they lay it down that a
monk ought not to ask for foods which are not customary for others, lest his
mode of life should be exposed publicly to all and rendered vain and idle and
so be destroyed by the disease of vanity; but they insist that the common chastening
discipline of fasts ought not lightly to be disclosed to any one, but as far
as possible concealed and kept secret. But when any of the brethren arrive
they rule that we ought to show the virtues of kindness and charity instead
of observing a severe abstinence and our strict daily rule: nor should we consider
what our own wishes and profit or the ardour of our desires may require, but
set before us and gladly fulfil whatever the refreshment of the guest, or his
weakness may demand from us.
CHAPTER XXIV.
How in Egypt we saw that the daily fast was broken without scruple on our
arrival.
When we
had come from the region of Syria and had sought the province of Egypt, in
our desire to
learn the
rules of the Eiders, we were astonished at the alacrity
of heart with which we were there received so that no rule forbidding refreshment
till the appointed hour of the fast was over was observed, such as we had been
brought up to observe in the monasteries of Palestine; but except in the case
of the regular days, Wednesdays and Fridays, wherever we went the daily fast(1)
was broken:(2) and when we asked why the daily fast was thus ignored by them
without scruple one of the eiders replied: "The opportunity for fasting
is always with me. But as I am going to conduct you on your way, I cannot always
keep you with me. And a fast, although it is useful and advisable, is yet a
free-will offering. But the exigencies of a command require the fulfilment
of a work of charity. And so receiving Christ in you I ought to refresh Him
but when I have sent you on your way I shall be able to balance the hospitality
offered for His sake by a stricter fast on my own account. For 'the children
of the bridegroom cannot fast while the bridegroom is with them:'(3) but when
he has departed, then they will rightly fast."
CHAPTER XXV.
Of the abstinence of one old man who took food six times so sparingly that
he was still hungry.
WHEN one
of the elders was pressing me to eat a little more as I was taking refreshment,
and I said
that I could
not, he replied: "I have already
laid my table six times for different brethren who had arrived, and, pressing
each of them, I partook of food with him, and am still hungry, and do you,
who now partake of refreshment for the first time, say that you cannot eat
any more?"
CHAPTER XXVI.
Of another old man, who never partook of food alone in his cell.
WE have seen another who lived alone, who declared that he had never enjoyed
food by himself alone, but that even if for five days running none of the brethren
came to his cell he constantly put off taking food until on Saturday or Sunday
he went to church for service and found some stranger whom he brought home
at once to his cell, and together with him partook of refreshment for the body
not so much by reason of his own needs, as for the sake of kindness and on
his brother's account. And so as they know that the daily fast is broken without
scruple on the arrival of brethren, when they leave, they compensate for the
refreshment which has been enjoyed on their account by a greater abstinence,
and sternly make up for the reception of even a very little food by a severer
chastisement not only as regards bread, but also by lessening their usual amount
of sleep.
CHAPTER XXVII.
What the two Abbots Paesius and John said of the fruits of their zeal.
WHEN the
aged John, who was superior of a large monastery and of a quantity of brethren,
had come
to visit the
aged Paesius, who was living in a vast desert,
and had been asked of him as of a very old friend, what he had done in all
the forty years in which he had been separated from him and had scarcely ever
been disturbed in his solitude by the brethren: "Never," said he, "has
the sun seen me eating," "nor me angry," said the other.(4)
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The lesson and example which Abbot John when dying left to his disciples.
WHEN the
same old man, as one who was readily going to depart to his own, was lying
at his last
gasp, and the
brethren were standing round, they implored
and intreated that he would leave them, as a sort of legacy, some special charge
by which they could attain to the height of perfection, the more easily from
the brevity of the charge: he sighed and said, "I never did my own will,
nor taught any one what I had not first done myself."
CHAPTER XXIX.
Of Abbot Machetes, who never slept during the spiritual conferences, but always
went to sleep during earthly tales.
WE knew an old man, Machetes by name, who lived at a distance from the crowds
of the brethren, and obtained by his daily prayers.this grace from the Lord,
that as often as a spiritual conference was held, whether by day or by night,
he never was at all overcome by sleep: but if any one tried to introduce a
word of detraction, or idle talk, he dropped off to sleep at once as if the
poison of slander could not possibly penetrate to pollute his ears.
CHAPTER XXX.
A saying of the same old man about not judging any one.
The same
old man, when he was teaching us that no one ought to judge another, remarked
that there
were three points
on which he had charged and rebuked the
brethren, viz.: because some allowed their uvula to be cut off, or kept a cloak
in their cell, or blessed oil and gave it to those dwelling in the world who
asked for it: and he said that he had done all these things himself. For having
contracted some malady of the uvula, I wasted away, said he, for so long, through
its weakness, that at last I was driven by stress of the pain, and by the persuasion
of all the elders, to allow it to be cut off. And I was forced too by reason
of this illness, to keep a cloak. And I was also compelled to bless oil and
give it to those who prayed for it--a thing which I execrated above everything,
since that I thought that it proceeded from great presumption of heart--when
suddenly many who were living in the world surrounded me, so that I could not
possibly escape them in any other way, had they not extorted from me with no
small violence, and entreaties that I would lay my hand on a vessel offered
by them, and sign it with the sign of the cross: and so believing that they
had secured blessed oil, at last they let me go. And by these things I plainly
discovered that a monk was in the same case and entangled in the same faults
for which he had ventured to judge others. Each one therefore ought only to
judge himself, and to be on the watch, with care and circumspection in all
things not to judge the life and conduct of others in accordance with the Apostle's
charge, "But thou, why dost thou judge thy brother? to his own master
he standeth or falleth." And this: "Judge not, that ye be not judged.
For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged."(1) For besides the
reason of Which we have spoken, it is for this cause also dangerous to judge
concerning others because in those matters in which we are offended--as we
do not know the need or the reason for which they are really acting either
rightly in the sight of God, or at any rate in a pardonable manner--we are
found to have judged them rashly and in this commit no light sin, by forming
an opinion of our brethren different from what we ought.
CHAPTER XXXI.
The same old man's rebuke when he saw how the brethren went to sleep during
the spiritual conferences, and woke up when some idle story was told.
The same
old man made clear by this proof that it was the devil who encouraged idle
tales, and
showed himself
always as the enemy of spiritual conferences.
For when he was discoursing to some of the brethren on necessary matters and
spiritual things, and saw that they were weighed down with a sound slumber,
and could not drive away the weight of sleep from their eyes, he suddenly introduced
an idle tale. And when he saw that at once they woke up, delighted with it,
and pricked up their ears, he groaned and said, "Up till now we were speaking
of celestial things and all your eyes were overpowered with a sound slumber;
but as soon as an idle tale was introduced, we all woke up and shook off the
drowsiness of sleep which had overcome us. And from this therefore consider
who is the enemy of that spiritual conference, and who has shown himself the
suggester of that useless and carnal talk. For it is most evidently shown that
it is he who, rejoicing in evil, never ceases to encourage the latter and to
oppose the former."
CHAPTER XXXII.
Of the letters which were burnt without being read.
Nor do
I think it less needful to relate this act of a brother who was intent on
purity of heart,
and extremely
anxious with regard to the contemplation
of things divine. When after an interval of fifteen years a large number of
letters had been brought to him from his father and mother and many friends
in the province of Pontus, he received the huge packet of letters, and turning
over the matter in his own mind for some time, "What thoughts," said
he, "will the reading of these suggest to me, which will incite me either
to senseless joy or to useless sadness! for how many days will they draw off
the attention of my heart from the contemplation I have set before me, by the
recollection of those who wrote them! How long will it take for the disturbance
of mind thus created to be calmed, and what an effort will it cost for that
former state of peacefulness to be restored, if the mind is once moved by the
sympathy of the letters, and by recalling the words and looks of those whom
it has left for so long begins once more in thought and spirit to revisit them,
to dwell among them and to be with them. And it will be of no use to have forsaken
them in the body, if one begins to look on them with the heart, and readmits
and revives that memory which on renouncing this world every one gave up, as
if he were dead. Turning this over in his mind, he determined not only not
to read a single letter, but not even to open the packet, for fear lest, at
the sight of the names of the writers, or on recalling their appearance, the
purpose of his spirit might give way. And so he threw it into the fire to be
burnt, all tied up just as he had received it, crying, "Away, O ye thoughts
of my home, be ye burnt up, and try no further to recall me to those things
from which I have fled."
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Of the solution of a question which Abbot Theodore obtained by prayer.
WE knew also Abbot Theodore,(1) a man gifted with the utmost holiness and
with perfect knowledge not only in practical life, but also in understanding
the Scriptures, which he had not acquired so much by study and reading, or
worldly education, as by purity of heart alone: since he could with difficulty
understand and speak but a very few words of the Greek language. This man when
he was seeking an explanation of some most difficult question, continued without
ceasing for seven days and nights in prayer until he discovered by a revelation
from the Lord the solution of the question propounded.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Of the saying of the same old man, through which he taught by what efforts
a monk can acquire a knowledge of the Scriptures.
This man therefore, when some of the brethren Were wondering at the splendid
light of his knowledge and were asking of him some meanings of Scripture, said
that a monk who wanted to acquire a knowledge of the Scriptures ought not to
spend his labour on the works of commentators, but rather to keep all the efforts
of his mind and intentions of his heart set on purifying himself from carnal
vices: for when these are driven out, at once the eyes of the heart, as if
the veil of the passions were removed, will begin as it were naturally to gaze
on the mysteries(2) of Scripture: since they were not declared to us by the
grace of the Holy Spirit in order that they should remain unknown and obscure;
but they are rendered obscure by our fault, as the veil of our sins covers
the eyes of the heart, and when these are restored to their natural state of
health, the mere reading of Holy Scripture is by itself amply sufficient for
beholding the true knowledge, nor do they need the aid of commentators, just
as these eyes of flesh need no man's teaching how to see, provided that they
are free from dimness or the darkness of blindness. For this reason there have
arisen so great differences and mistakes among commentators because most of
them, paying no sort of attention towards purifying the mind, rush into the
work of interpreting the Scriptures, and in proportion to the density or impurity
of their heart form opinions that are at variance with and contrary to each
other's and to the faith, and so are unable to take in the light of truth.
CHAPTER. XXXV.
A rebuke of the same old man, when he had come to my cell in the middle of
the night.
The same
Theodore came unexpectedly to my cell in the dead of night, with paternal
inquisitiveness
seeking what
I--an unformed anchorite as I was--might
be doing by myself; and when he had found me there already, as I had finished
my vesper office, beginning to refresh my wearied body, and lying down on a
mat, he sighed from the bottom of his heart, and calling me by name, said, "How
many, O John, are at this hour communing with God, and embracing Him, and detaining
Him with them, while you are deprived of so great light, enfeebled as you are
with lazy sleep!"
And since the virtues of the fathers and the grace given to them have tempted
us to turn aside to a story like this, I think it well to record in this volume
a noteworthy deed of charity, which we experienced from the kindness of that
most excellent man Archebius, that the purity of continence grafted on to a
work of charity may more readily shine forth, being embellished with a pleasing
variety. For the duty of fasting is then rendered acceptable to God, when it
is made perfect by the fruits of charity.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A description of the desert in Diolcos, where the anchorites live.
And so when we had come, while still beginners, from the monasteries of Palestine,
to a city of Egypt called Diolcos,(1) and were contemplating a large number
of monks bound by the discipline of the Coenobium, and trained in that excellent
system of monasteries, which is also the earliest, we were also eager to see
with all wisdom of heart another system as well which is still better, viz.:
that of the anchorites, as we were incited thereto by the praises of it by
everybody. For these men, having first lived for a very long time in Coenobia,
and having diligently learnt all the rules of patience and discretion, and
acquired the virtues of humility and renunciation, and having perfectly overcome
all their faults, in order to engage in most fearful conflicts with devils,
penetrate the deepest recesses of the desert. Finding then that men of this
sort were living near the river Nile in a place which is surrounded on one
side by the same river, on the other by the expanse of the sea, and forms an
island, habitable by none but monks seeking such recesses, since the saltness
of the soil and dryness of the sand make it unfit for any cultivation--to these
men, I say, we eagerly hastened, and were beyond measure astonished at their
labours which they endure in the contemplation of the virtues and their love
of solitude. For they are hampered by such a scarcity even of water that the
care and exactness with which they portion it out is such as no miser would
bestow in preserving and hoarding the most precious kind of wine. For they
carry it three miles or even further from the bed of the above-mentioned river,
for all necessary purposes; and the distance, great as it is, with sandy mountains
in between, is doubled by the very great difficulty of the task.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Of the cells which Abbot Archebius gave up to us with their furniture.
HAVING then seen this, as we were inflamed with the desire of imitating them,
the aforesaid Archebius, the most famous among them for the grace of kindness,
drew us into his cell, and having discovered our desire, pretended that he
wanted to leave the place, and to offer his cell to us, as if he were going
away, declaring that he would have done it, even if we had not come. And we,
inflamed with the desire of remaining there, and putting unhesitating faith
in the assertions of so great a man, willingly agreed to this, and took over
his cell with all its furniture and belongings. And so having succeeded in
his pious fraud, he left the place for a few days in which to procure the means
for constructing a cell, and after this returned, and with the utmost labour
built another cell for himself. And after some little time, when some other
brethren came inflamed with the same desire to stay there, he deceived them
by a similar charitable falsehood, and gave this one up with everything pertaining
to it. But he, unweariedly persevering in his act of charity, built for himself
a third cell to dwell in.(2)
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The same Archebius paid a debt of his mother's by the labour of his own hands.
IT seems to me worth while to hand down another charitable act of the same
man, that the monks of our land may be taught by the example of one and the
same man to maintain not only a rigorous continence, but also the most unfeigned
affection of love. For he, sprung from no ignoble family, while yet a child,
scorning the love of this world and of his kinsfolk, fled to the monastery
which is nearly four miles distant from the aforementioned town, where he so
passed all his life, that never once throughout the whole of fifty years did
he enter or see the village from which he had come, nor even look upon the
face of any woman, not even his own mother. In the mean while his father was
overtaken by death, and left a debt of a hundred solidi. And though he himself
was entirely free from all annoyances, since he had been disinherited of all
his father's property, yet he found that his mother was excessively annoyed
by the creditors. Then he through consideration of duty somewhat moderated
that gospel severity through which formerly, while his parents were prosperous,
he did not recognize that he possessed a father or mother on earth; and acknowledged
that he had a mother, and hastened to relieve her in her distress, without
relaxing anything of the austerity he had set himself. For remaining within
the cloister of the monastery he asked that the task of his usual work might
be trebled. And there for a whole year toiling night and day alike he paid
to the creditors the due measure of the debt secured by his toil and labour,
and relieved his mother from all annoyance and anxiety; ridding her of the
burden of the debt in such a way as not to suffer aught of the severity he
had set himself to be diminished on plea of duteous necessity. Thus did he
preserve his wonted austerities, without ever denying to his mother's heart
the work which duty demanded, as, though he had formerly disregarded her for
the love of Christ, he now acknowledged her again out of consideration of duty.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Of the device of a certain old man by which some work was found for Abbot
Simeon when be had nothing to do.
When a
brother who was very dear to us, Simeon by name, a man utterly ignorant of
Greek, had come
from the
region of Italy, one of the elders, anxious to
show to him, as he was a stranger, a work of charity, with some pretence of
the benefit being mutual, asked him why he sat doing nothing in his cell, guessing
from this that he would not be able to stay much longer in it both because
of the roving thoughts which idleness produces and because, of his want of
the necessities of life; well knowing that no one can endure the assault: made
in solitude, but one who is contented to procure food for himself by the labour
of his hands. And when the other replied that he could not do or manage any
of the things which were usually done by the brethren there, except write a
good hand, if any one in Egypt wanted a Latin book for his use, then he at
length seized the opportunity to secure the long wished for work of charity,
under colour of its being a mutual benefit; and said, "From God this opportunity
comes, for I was just looking for some one to write out for me the Epistles(1)
in Latin; for I have a brother who is bound in the chains of military service,
and is a good Latin scholar, to whom I want to send something from Scripture
for him to read for his edification." And so when Simeon gratefully took
this as an opportunity offered to him by God, the old man also gladly seized
the pretext, under colour of which he could freely carry out his work of charity,
and at once not only brought him as a matter of business everything he could
want for a whole year, but also conveyed to him parchment and everything requisite
for writing, and received afterwards the manuscript, which was not of the slightest
use (since in those parts they were all utterly ignorant of this language),
and did no good to anybody except that which resulted from this device and
large outlay, as the one, without shame or confusion, procured his necessary
food and sustenance by the reward of his work and labour, and the other carried
out his kindness and bounty as it were by the compulsion of a debt: securing
for himself a more abundant reward proportioned to the zeal with which he procured
for his foreign brother not only his necessary food, but materials for writing,
and an opportunity of work.
CHAPTER XL.
Of the boys who when bringing to a sick man some figs, died in the desert
from hunger, without having tasted them.
But since in the section in which we proposed to say something about the strictness
of fasting and abstinence, kindly acts and deeds of charity seem to have been
intermingled, again returning to our design we will insert in this little book
a noteworthy deed of some who were boys in years though not in their feelings.
For when, to their great surprise, some one had brought to Abbot John, the
steward in the desert of Scete, some figs from Libya Mareotis,(2) as being
a thing never before seen in those districts,--(John) who had the management
of the church in the days of the blessed Presbyter Paphnutius,(3) by whom it
had been intrusted to him, at once sent them by the hands of two lads to an
old man who was laid up in ill health in the further parts of the desert, and
who lived about eighteen miles from the church. And when they had received
the fruit, and set off for the cell of the above-mentioned old man, they lost
the right path altogether--a thing which there easily happens even to elders--as
a thick fog suddenly came on. And when all day and night they had wandered
about the trackless waste of the desert, and could not possibly find the sick
man's cell, worn out at last both by weariness from their journey, and from
hunger and thirst, they bent their knees and gave up their souls to God in
the very act of prayer. And afterwards, when they had been for a long while
sought for by the marks of their footsteps which in those sandy regions are
impressed as if on snow, until a thin coating of sand blown about even by a
slight breeze covers them up again, it was found that they had preserved the
figs untouched, just as they had received them; choosing rather to give up
their lives, than their fidelity to their charge, and to lose their life on
earth than to violate the commands of their senior.
CHAPTER XLI.
The saying of Abbot Macarius of the behaviour of a monk as one who was to
live for a long while, and as one who was daily at the point of death.
THERE iS still one valuable charge of the blessed Macarius to be brought forward
by us, so that a saying of so great a man may close this book of fasts and
abstinence. He said then that a monk ought to bestow attention on his fasts,
just as if he were going to remain in the flesh for a hundred years; and to
curb the motions of the soul, and to forget injuries, and to loathe sadness,
and despise sorrows and losses, as if he were daily at the point of death.
For in the former case discretion is useful and proper as it causes a monk
always to walk with well-balanced care, and does not suffer him by reason of
a weakened body to fall from the heights over most dangerous precipices: in
the other high-mindedness is most valuable as it will enable him not only to
despise the seeming prosperity of this present world, but also not to be crushed
by adversity and sorrow, and to despise them as small and paltry matters, since
he has the gaze of his mind continually fixed there, whither daily at each
moment he believes that he is soon to be summoned.(1)
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