Stillness
may be equated to peace of soul; the absence of spiritual warfare and the
presence of calm. We beginners in
the spiritual life cannot imagine what it would be like to be totally
unaffected by the disquietude of the world; it is beyond our ability to
comprehend never being tempted to speak in haste and never experiencing the
movements of anger in our hearts.
The beginner must be content with experiencing moments of this
peace. He must strive to win this
peace, by overcoming all the passions which seek to overthrow it.
It
is only when we begin to center our thoughts on the spiritual world within by
pushing far from us the noise of the external world that we notice how little
peace is found there. The first
notice of this peacelessness is often enough to drive many back to the
diversions of the world. For some,
the existential pain of their passionate soul is too great to bear and they
choose to run away rather than stay and face it. For those who choose to stay, the experience of the true
state of their souls is a necessary lesson. We first learn the presence of our soul by its pain rather
than its peace. As we continue in
our spiritual lives, it is this pain which will always direct us back to the
concerns of the soul when we begin to stray.
As
we set a priority on peace, we will begin to notice more and more the things in
our lives that rob us of peace. We
will begin to find the noise of this world to be a hindrance rather than a
help. We will notice how much of
our time is spent following distractions.
We will begin to change our lifestyle on the basis of what produces
peace in our souls. We will
inevitably be led to a love of quiet and solitude.
However,
an important thing to note is that this is a gradual process. St. John is very quick to point out the
dangers of embracing too much "stillness" before we are spiritually
ready: "The man who is
foul-tempered and conceited, hypocritical and a nurse of grievances, ought
never to enter the life of solitude, for fear that he should gain nothing but
the loss of his sanity."
Above
all, then, we must remember that the path to internal peace is not an easy
one. Therefore, we must set
ourselves for a long struggle. We
will not achieve the state of constant peace in a day. Perhaps it is enough for us today not
to have allowed anger to enter our soul; perhaps it is enough for us to have
refrained from that idle word which stirs up passion; perhaps it is enough for
us to have refrained from viewing those things which would have aroused our
sexual passions. Each day we add
virtue to virtue. Each day we
embrace the struggle. Each day we
repent of our failures. Each day
we continue the struggle. In this
way, although we may never be completely successful, we will never stop
trying. And God who grants the
prize, will consider our struggles to be victory and will grant us His peace
for eternity.
1-29 In
these opening paragraphs, St. John defines stillness, distinguishes its various
stages and describes the qualities of those who are seeking or have obtained
this virtue.
Stillness
of the body is the accurate knowledge and management of one's feelings and
perceptions. Stillness of soul is
the accurate knowledge of one's thoughts and is an unassailable mind.
The
start of stillness is the rejection of all noisiness as something that will
trouble the depths of the soul.
The final point is when one has no longer a fear of noisy disturbance,
when one is immune to it. He who
when he goes out does not go out in his intellect is gentle and wholly a house
of love, rarely moved to speech and never to anger. The opposite to all this is manifest.
The
cell of a hesychast is the body that surrounds him, and within him is the
dwelling place of knowledge.
Close the door of
your cell to your body, the door of your tongue to talk, and the gate within to
evil spirits. The endurance of the
sailor is tried by the noonday sun or when he is becalmed, and the endurance of
the solitary is tested by his lack of necessary supplies. The one jumps into the water and swims
when he is impatient, the other goes in search of a crowd when he is
discouraged.
Sit
in a high place and keep watch if you can, and you will see the thieves come,
and you will discover how they come, when and from where, how many and what
kind they are as they steal your clusters of grapes.
When
the watchman gets tired, he stands up and he prays. And then, sitting down once more, he bravely carries on his
task.
The
solitary runs away from everyone, but does so without hatred, just as another
runs toward the crowd, even if without enthusiasm. The solitary does not wish to be cut off from the divine
sweetness.
Go
now. At once. Give away everything you have.
("Sell what you own."
That needs time) . . . Take
up your cross, carrying it in obedience, and endure strongly the burden of your
thwarted will. And then,
"Come, follow me" (Matt. 19:21). Come to union with most blessed stillness and I will teach
you the workings and behavior of the spiritual powers. They never grow tired of their
everlasting praise of their Maker, nor does he who has entered into the heaven
of stillness cease to praise his Creator.
Spirits have no thought for what is material, and those who have become
immaterial in a material body will pay no attention to food, for the former
know nothing of it and the latter need no promise of it; the former are
unconcerned about money and chattels and the latter are heedless of the malice
of evil spirits. In those dwelling
above, there is no yearning for the visible creation, while those on earth
below have no longing for what can be sensed, because the former never cease to
make progress in love and the latter will never cease to imitate them. The former know well the value of their
progress; the latter understand their own love and longing for the ascent to
heaven. The former will desist
only when they rise to the realm of the Seraphim; the latter will grow tired
only when they come at last to be angels.
30-45 St.
John then describes the differences between the various kinds of
stillness. He depicts how the
virtue is practiced rightly or wrongly by those living the solitary life and
those living the common life.
The
man who is foul-tempered and conceited, hypocritical and a nurse of grievances,
ought never to enter the life of solitude, for fear he should gain nothing but
the loss of his sanity. Someone
free of these faults will know what is best. Or perhaps, I think, not even he.
The
following are the signs, the stages, and the proofs of practicing stillness in
the right way - a calm mind, a purified disposition, rapture in the Lord, the
remembrance of everlasting torments, the imminence of death, an insatiable urge
for prayer, constant watchfulness, the death of lust, no sense of attachment,
death of worldliness, an end to gluttony, a foundation for theology, a well of
discernment, a truce accompanied by tears, and end to talkativeness, and many
other such things alien to most men.
The
following are signs of stillness practiced wrongly - poverty of spiritual
treasures, anger on the increase, a growth of resentment, love diminished, a
surge of vanity.
With
regard to those who lawfully, chastely, and in pure fashion are wedded to this
orderly and admirable way of obedience, there are manifestations - validated by
the divinely inspired Fathers and brought to perfection in their own time -
manifestations accompanied by daily increase and progress. There is an advance in basic
humility. There is lessening of
bad temper, which must after all diminish as the gall is depleted. Darkness is scattered and love
approached. Lust, under ceaseless
criticism, diminishes; despondency is unknown; and zeal grows. There is compassionate love and a
banishment of pride. This is what
everyone must seek, though few will be completely successful.
A
young wife who strays from her marriage defiles her body. A soul unfaithful to his vow defiles
his spirit. The former is
denounced, hated, beaten, and, most pitiable of all, thrown out. For the latter there is pollution,
forgetfulness of death, an insatiable belly, eyes out of control, vainglory at
work, a longing for sleep, a calloused heart, insensitivity, a storing up of bad
thoughts, an increase of consent, captivity of heart, spiritual upheaval,
disobedience, argumentativeness, attachment to things, unbelief, doubt,
talkativeness, and - most serious this - free and easy relationships. Most wretched of all is a heart without
compunction, which, in the careless, is succeeded by insensitivity, the mother
of devils and of lapses.
43-87 St.
John then begins to describe the struggle for stillness. First, St. John details those things
that threaten to destroy or prevent one from obtaining an inner state of peace. He identifies in particular the five
demons that attack the solitary (despondence, vainglory, pride, dejection and
anger) and the three that assail those living in community (gluttony, lust, and
avarice). Second, St. John
identifies the essential virtues of the hesychast (unceasing prayer,
discretion, faith, fear of God, patience, prudence and a discerning
spirit). He concludes by exhorting
his readers to use every means to protect and strengthen the gift.
Of
the eight evil spirits, five attack the solitary and three assail those living
in obedience.
The
spirit of despondency is your companion.
Watch him every hour. Note
his stirrings and his movements, his inclinations and his changes of face. Note their character and the direction
they take.
The
first task of stillness is disengagement from every affair good and bad, since
concern with the former leads on to the latter. Second is urgent prayer. Third is inviolable activity of the heart. And just as you have to know the
alphabet if you are to read books, so if you have missed out on the first task,
you cannot enter upon the other two.
The
demon of despondency, as I have discovered, opens the way for the demons of
lust. . . . Fight hard against these demons and
they in turn will furiously attack you.
They will try to force you to desist from your labors, which, they will
tell you, are of no value.
A
small hair disturbs the eye. A
minor concern interferes with stillness, for, after all, stillness means the
expulsion of thoughts and the rejection of even reasonable cares.
The
man who wishes to offer a pure mind to God but who is troubled by cares is like
a man who expects to walk quickly even though his legs are tied together.
A
man without experience of God ought not to undertake the solitary life. He leaves himself open to many
hazards. Stillness chokes the
inexperienced. Never having tasted
the sweetness of God, such people waste time being set upon, robbed, made
despondent, distracted.
It
is better to live poor and obedient than to be a solitary who has no control
over his thoughts.
Stillness
is worshipping God unceasingly and waiting upon Him.
Let
the remembrance of Jesus be present with your every breath. Then indeed you will appreciate the
value of stillness.
Self-will
is the ruin of the monk living in obedience. But ruin for the solitary is the interruption of prayer.
.
. . the model for your prayer should be the widow wronged by her adversary
(Luke 18:1-8) . . .
Faith
is the wing of prayer, and without it my prayer will return to my bosom. Faith is the unshaken stance of the
soul and is unmoved by any adversity.
The believing man is not one who thinks that God can do all things, but
one who trust that he will obtain everything. Faith is the agent of things unhoped for, as the thief
proved (Luke 23:42-43). The mother
of faith is hard work and an upright heart; the one builds up belief, the other
makes it endure. Faith is the
mother of the hesychast, for after all, how can he practice stillness if he
does not believe?
A
man chained in prison is fearful of his judge, and the monk in his cell is
fearful of God. But the court
holds less terror for the one than the judgment seat of God for the other. My good friend, you have to be very
much afraid if you are to practice stillness, and nothing else is quite so
effective in scattering despondency.
The prisoner is always on the watch for the judge to come to the jail,
and the true worker is ever on the watch for the coming of death. A weight of sorrow bears down on the
one, while for the other there is a fountain of tears.
Take
hold of the walking stick of patience, and the dogs will soon stop their
impudent harassment. Patience is a
labor that does not crush the soul.
It never wavers under interruptions, good or bad. The patient monk is a faultless worker
who has turned his faults into victories.
Patience sets a boundary to the daily onslaught of suffering. It makes no excuses and ignores the
self. The worker needs patience
more than food, since the one brings him a crown while the other brings
destruction. The patient man has
died before his death, his cell being his tomb. Patience comes from hope and mourning, and indeed to lack
those is to be a slave to despondency.
Pay
careful attention to whatever sweetness there may be in your soul, in case it
has been concocted by cruel and crafty physicians.
.
. . until you have acquired spiritual power, do not read works that have
various levels of meaning since, being obscure, they may bring darkness over
the weak.
Let
the soul's eye be ever on the watch for conceit, since nothing else can produce
such havoc.
Once
outside your cell, watch your tongue, for the fruits of many labors can be
scattered in a moment.
Stay
away from what does not concern you, for curiosity can defile stillness as
nothing else can.
When
people visit you, offer them what they need for body and spirit. If they happen to be wiser than we are,
then let our own silence reveal our wisdom. If they are brothers who share with us the same type of
life, we should open the door of speech to them in proper measure. Best of all, however, is to deem
everyone our superior.
Wealth
and numerous subjects constitute the power of a king. Abundance of prayer constitutes the power of the hesychast.

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