The Christian in an Age of Violence and Materialism: The Teachings of the Evergetinos

Synopsis of Tonight’s Group on The Evergetinos Volume II - Hypothesis XXXVII Section G2-H

This section of The Evergetinos is among the most luminous and convicting in its entire corpus. It speaks with the voice of a Father who has entered deeply into the mind of Christ; where justice is transfigured by mercy, where the love of neighbor becomes inseparable from the love of God, and where even material loss becomes a gate to eternal life.

The Elder’s teaching exposes the great inversion of values that defines our time. In an age obsessed with self-preservation, power, and vengeance, the Christian is called not simply to resist these tendencies, but to live from an entirely different center. His measure of life is no longer self-interest or fear, but the eternal horizon of the Kingdom.

The Elder begins with a piercing truth: God’s commandments are light. It is only our attachment to self-will that makes them seem heavy. In modern terms, we could say that the weight we feel in forgiving enemies, in relinquishing possessions, or in enduring wrongs, comes not from the Gospel itself, but from our clinging to the illusion of control and possession. The commandment of Christ is light because it is love; and love is only heavy to one still bound by pride.

The parable of the gem-engraver is a mirror for us. The man, faced with imminent danger, discards all his treasure to preserve a fleeting life. We, knowing the eternal stakes, cannot part with even trifles to save our souls. The Elder’s irony cuts deeply: a worldly merchant becomes a philosopher in action, while we who claim the Kingdom behave as fools. Has the Christian fallen below the moral and spiritual clarity of the pagans who could endure insult or misfortune with composure? The Elder’s words imply as much, for true wisdom is to value what endures, and to let go of all that perishes.

We live amid a civilization that sanctifies vengeance, calls anger justice, and worships material gain. The Christian, if he is truly of Christ, stands as a contradiction to this world. His meekness will appear as weakness; his patience as passivity. Yet the Elder shows that it is precisely this self-emptying love that manifests divine power. To endure injury without resentment is to share in the Cross. To pray for the one who wrongs us is to participate in the compassion of the Crucified.

The image of the Body, so carefully developed by the Elder, destroys the illusion of separateness that fuels violence. To harm my brother is to wound Christ Himself; to harbor anger is to cut myself off from the Body’s life. The Christian is thus called to a supernatural realism: to perceive the unity of all in Christ and to respond to injury with the same tenderness one shows a diseased limb of one’s own body. One does not amputate a member in anger; one tends it with healing concern. So must we treat the sinner who has harmed us.

In the closing examples, the Elder incarnates this teaching. The monk who relinquishes his books rather than quarrel over them, the ascetic who frees the brigands who attacked him — these are not tales of naiveté but of divine wisdom. They show that peace of heart and fidelity to Christ outweigh any claim to justice or property. The true betrayal, as Abba Poimen tells the frightened hermit, is not the crime of the brigands but the monk’s own fear and loss of faith. The victory of Christ is not in punishing evil but in overcoming fear through love.

St. Ephraim’s brief counsel at the end grounds this lofty teaching in ordinary charity. Justice begins in the smallest acts; in returning what is borrowed, in honesty, in remembering that we “owe no man anything, but to love one another.” The ascetical heroism of forgiveness begins with these humble fidelities.

In an age of terror, noise, and material excess, the distinctive mark of the Christian is not moral superiority or rhetorical witness, but peace that disarms the world. The Evergetinos reminds us that the Gospel’s revolution lies in meekness; in the refusal to let hatred dictate our actions or possessions define our worth. If we have not yet attained even the calm of the pagan sage or the detachment of the shipwrecked merchant, then our first step is repentance: to rediscover the lightness of the commandments and to trust that the Cross, embraced without vengeance, is still the truest power in the world.

The Cross as the Standard of Love

Synopsis of Tonight’s Group on The Evergetinos Volume II Hypothesis XXXVII Sections D - G1

The teaching of the Fathers on vengeance and anger does not allow us to linger in the comfortable ambiguities of human justice. It tears at the fabric of self-justification. Their words bring us face to face with the scandal of divine love—the Cross as the only standard by which we are to measure our dealings with others. The heart that desires retribution, or even to “set things right,” cannot bear the full light of that Cross without trembling.

St. Diadochus unmasks the subtle ways we clothe self-interest in piety. We say we fear becoming “a cause of sin” for those who wrong us, but in truth we simply wish to protect our possessions, our security, our image of control. Once we let go of blessing and guarding the heart, we begin to move toward the vestibules of the law courts; our concern for righteousness becomes indistinguishable from the world’s hunger for vindication. To stand before such courts is already to have abandoned the tribunal of mercy. The law of God cannot be kept by means of the laws of men, because mercy does not seek the restoration of things but of persons. The one who endures injustice praying for his oppressor becomes an image of the Crucified, who desired not the return of what was taken from Him but the return of those who took it.

Abba Isaac pushes the wound even deeper: to fight over what gives comfort after renouncing the world is blindness. The one for whom the world has died accepts insults with joy, not because they are pleasant, but because they reveal how little of the old self remains to defend. It is not the act of being wronged that kills the soul, but the refusal to see in it a call to die before death. Only those who have lost every hope of worldly consolation can bear this pain without resentment. Such poverty of spirit is rare, but in it the mind shines with tranquil radiance.

The Gerontikon illustrates the same wisdom through living examples. Blessed Zosimas warns the generous Dionysia that zeal to avenge an insult can destroy every virtue she possesses. Her almsgiving, though abundant, is nothing if it is not shaped by meekness. To lose composure over a trifling thing is to become a slave of that thing; even a needle or a book can master the heart that has not been freed. The true servant of God has one Master alone.

All these sayings converge on the Cross. There, vengeance dies and love is revealed in its purest form. Christ prays for His murderers, not from sentiment but from truth; He alone sees that their real torment is not what they do to Him, but what they do to themselves. The disciple who bears wrongs without retaliation participates in this same divine sight. He no longer divides the world into victims and oppressors, but into the healed and the unhealed. To forgive is to choose the side of healing.

To live by this ethos is to live cruciformly. It is to judge nothing and no one, to accept every wound as a summons to prayer, and to see in every thief a brother whose salvation God has entrusted to our mercy. The Cross does not destroy reason; it stretches it until it becomes translucent with grace. In that light, vengeance appears not only impossible but absurd. Only love remains—terrible, meek, and eternal.

Synopsis of Evergetinos Group 10/6/2025

Synopsis of Tonight’s Group on The Evergetinos Volume II Hypothesis XXXVII Section D:

Abba Mark’s teaching pierces the heart because it strips away our worldly sense of “justice” and places us before the wisdom of the Cross. The lawyer’s questions are not unlike our own: What do we do when wronged? What about fairness? What about the law? But the Elder directs him beyond human reasoning toward the spiritual law of Christ.

For the world, the offense is external, and the “solution” is measured by punishment and recompense. For the ascetic, the wound of injustice exposes what is hidden in the heart. If resentment rises, then the wrong is ours as much as the other’s. To forgive is not indulgence or naiveté—it is participation in the very judgment of God, who alone knows how to weigh every soul. Vengeance, on the other hand, is a kind of blasphemy: it accuses God of judging wrongly, and so it becomes a heavier sin than the original injury.

Here the Evergetinos reveals the paradox of the Gospel: to suffer wrong with gratitude is not weakness but true knowledge. To pray for those who wrong us confounds the demons and makes us sons of the Crucified. The magistrate may punish, but the monk endures; the court may balance debts, but love “endures all things.”

The Elder’s words burn away excuses. To forgive is not optional—it is the very condition of our own forgiveness. To harbor vengeance is to live in fantasy, enslaved to illusions of fairness. But to embrace affliction as one’s own and to entrust judgment to God is to step into the reality of mercy, where the only true justice is love.

Ladder of Divine Ascent - Step Twenty-Four on Meekness, Guilelessness and Simplicity

          

              Having shown us the danger of pride, St. John wishes to lead us step by step to the virtue of humility (Step 25).  Before we consider humility, however, he insists that we must seek meekness.  What is meekness?  St. John answers: "Meekness is a mind consistent amid honor and dishonor; meekness prays quietly and sincerely for a neighbor however troublesome he may be; meekness is a rock looking out over the sea of anger which breaks the waves which come crashing on it and stays entirely unmoved; meekness works alongside of obedience, guides a religious community, checks frenzy, curbs anger." 

            A meek person 1) is not quick to defend or justify himself in the presence and thoughts of others.  He is not easily unsettled by the words and opinions of others, 2) guards his heart carefully against the intrusion of thoughts of "frenzy (against any thoughts which disturb his internal peace), 3) is calm in the midst of disturbing events; he is not easily excited or provoked, 4) watches over his words, carefully choosing to utter only those which bring peace, 5) does not project himself into conversations or situations in which his presence is not desired, 6) does not jump in to correct everyone and everything, 7) is willing to wait for God to act and does not believe that his action is necessary to God, 8) knows how to pray and to be quiet, 9) has no personal agenda and is concerned only for God's will - recognizing that God's will unfolds itself in ways that are unusual and unexpected.  Thus, even in his concern for God's will, he is willing to calmly wait for God to accomplish His purpose.  When he must act, he does so out of calm faith rather than panicky unbelief.

            It is interesting that St. John connects meekness with simplicity and guilelessness: "A meek soul is a throne of simplicity, but a wrathful mind is a creature of evil." "Guilelessness is the joyful condition of an uncalculating soul."  He use three images as illustrations: childhood, Adam in the Garden and St. Paul the simple. 

            During childhood, he tells us, there is an absence of concern to "fit in".  Those who have struggled for simplicity live much the same.  Fitting in with the crowd, and compromising one's integrity to do so, are not a part of their lifestyle.  They are free from the necessity to change themselves (becoming social/spiritual chameleons) to "fit in" and to meet the expectations of others. 

            From Adam in the Garden we learn that simplicity is the absence of self-awareness.  St. John writes: "As long as Adam has simplicity, he saw neither the nakedness of his soul nor the indecency of his flesh."  Adam was free from the desire to "look in the mirror" and the necessity of "standing on the scale."  Does not a lot of vanity spring from an unhealthy desire to look good in the eyes of other people or to find out how we look to others?  Here we see why St. John keeps mentioning hypocrisy as he discusses simplicity.  Our outside appearance often becomes the equivalent of a mask, designed to keep people from seeing us as we really are.  Our outside appearance becomes divorced from our inner self.  The inherent, simple connection between our inner soul and outer body becomes distorted.  This distortion wreaks havoc on our spiritual lives.              

             From St. Paul the Simple, we learn that simplicity is linked to obedience and firm faith.  St. Paul was a disciple of Antony the Great.  St. Antony thought him too old to be a monk, but Paul submitted to the severest disciplines with such unquestioning obedience that in a relatively short time he acquired holiness and spiritual powers even greater than his master's.  After relating this story, St. John draws this conclusion: "Fight to escape your own cleverness.  If you do, then you will find salvation and an uprightness through Jesus Christ. . . " 

            If we follow the simple path - distrusting our own wisdom, doing the best we can yet realizing that our mind, without warmth of heart is a very weak tool - - then a Godly life will begin to be formed in us.

            Meekness is a mind consistent amid honor and dishonor.  Meekness prays quietly and sincerely for a neighbor however troublesome he may be.  Meekness is a rock looking out over the sea of anger which breaks the waves which come crashing on it and stays entirely unmoved.  Meekness is the bulwark of patience, the door, indeed the mother of love, and the foundation of discernment.  For it is said: "The Lord will teach His ways to the meek" (Ps. 24:9)  And it is meekness that earns pardon for our sins, gives confidence to our prayers and makes a place for the Holy Spirit.  "To whom shall I look if not the meek and the peaceful?" (Is. 66:2).

            Meekness works alongside of obedience, guides a religious community, checks frenzy, curbs anger.  It is a minister of joy, an imitation of Christ, the possession of angels, a shackle for demons, a shield against bitterness.  The Lord finds rest in the hearts of the meek, while the turbulent spirit is the home of the devil.  "The meek shall inherit the earth" (Matt. 5:5), indeed, rule over it; and the bad-tempered shall be carried off as booty from their land.

            A meek soul is a throne of simplicity, but a wrathful mind is a creator of evil.

            A gentle soul will make a place for wise words, since the "Lord will guide the meek in judgment" (Ps. 24:9), or rather, in discretion.

            Hypocrisy is soul and body in a state of opposition to each other, intertwined with every kind of invention.

            Guilelessness is the joyful condition of an uncalculating soul.

            Honesty is innocent thought, a genuine character, speech that is neither artificial nor premeditated.

            Malice is honesty perverted, a deluded thought, a lying disposition, perjury, and ambiguous words.  Malice is a false heart, an abyss of cunning, deceit that has become habitual, pride that is second nature.  It is the foe of humility, a fake penitence, mourning depleted, a refusal to confess, an insistence on getting one's own way.  It is the agent of lapses, a hindrance to resurrection, a tolerance of wrongdoing, false-grief, false reverence.  It is life gone diabolical.

            Let us run from the precipice of hypocrisy, from the pit of duplicity.

            Unadorned simplicity is the first characteristic of childhood.  As long as Adam had it, he saw neither the nakedness of his soul nor the indecency of his flesh.

            If you wish to draw the Lord to you, approach Him as disciples to a master, in all simplicity, openly, honestly, without duplicity, without idle curiosity.  He is simple and uncompounded.  And he wants the souls that come to Him to be simple and pure.  Indeed you will never see simplicity separated from humility.

            The evil man is a false prophet.  He imagines that from words he can catch thoughts, from appearance the truth of the heart.

            Paul the Simple, that thrice-blessed man, was a shining example to us.  He was the measure and type of blessed simplicity, and no one has ever seen or heard or could see so much progress in so short a time. 

            A simple monk is like a dumb but rational and obedient animal.  He lays his burden on his spiritual director.  And like the animal who never answers back to the master who yokes him, the upright soul does not talk back to his superior.  Instead, he follows where he is directed to go and will raise no protest even if sent to his death.

            A lapse often saves the clever man, bringing him salvation and innocence in spite of himself.

            Fight to escape from your own cleverness.  If you do, then you will find salvation and an uprightness through Jesus Christ our Lord. 

            If you have the strength to take this step, do not lose heart.  For now you are imitating Christ your Master and you have been saved.

Ladder of Divine Ascent - On Malice or the Remembrance of Wrongs

             Remembrance of wrongs is the offspring of anger and its culmination.  It holds on to another's sins.  Climacus describes it as a poison of the soul.  The seriousness of this cannot be underestimated for, he states, "a malicious hesychast is like a lurking snake carrying about its own deadly poison."  It is deadly to the soul because it makes a mockery of its prayer and stifles true love.

            In order to rid ourselves of this vice, we must purge ourselves of anger.  Our greatest weapon in this task is the Lord's Prayer.  For we cannot but be put to shame for our maliciousness when we ceaselessly cry out to God to forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. 

            We may also be healed of this passion through looking to the example of Christ's long suffering and his patient endurance of the many wrongs done to him. 

1-6            Malice defined and described.

            Remembrance of wrongs comes as the final point of anger.  It is a keeper of sins.  It hates a just way of life.  It is the ruin of virtues, the poison of the soul, a worm in the mind.  It is the shame of prayer, a cutting off of supplication, a turning away from love, a nail piercing the soul.  It is a pleasureless feeling cherished in the sweetness of bitterness.  It is a never-ending sin, an unsleeping wrong, rancor by the hour.

7-14            How malice can be overcome and the true sign that it has been mastered.  Forgetting of wrongs is the sure means of being forgiven.

            

            Let your malice and your spite be turned against the devils.  Treat your body always as an enemy, for the flesh is an ungrateful and treacherous friend.  The more you look after it, the more it hurts you.

            Let the prayer of Jesus put it to shame, that prayer which cannot be uttered in the company of malice.

            

            If after great effort you still fail to root out this thorn, go to your enemy and apologize, if only with empty words whose insincerity may shame you.  Then as conscience, like a fire, comes to give you pain, you may find that a sincere love of your enemy may come to life.

            

           A true sign of having completely mastered this putrefaction will come not when you pray for the man who offended you, not when you give him presents, not when you invite him to share a meal with you, but only when, on hearing of some catastrophe that has afflicted him in body or soul, you suffer and you lament for him as if for yourself.

            The remembrance of what Jesus suffered is a cure for remembrance of wrongs, shaming it powerfully with His patient endurance.

            Some labor and struggle hard to earn forgiveness, but better than these is the man who forgets the wrongs done to him.  Forgive quickly and you will be abundantly forgiven.  To forget wrongs is to prove oneself truly repentant, but to brood on them and at the same time to imagine one is practicing repentance is to act like the man who is convinced he is running when in fact he is fast asleep.

15-16            Concluding remarks and exhortation.

            Never imagine that this dark vice is a passion of no importance, for it often reaches out even to spiritual men.

           

            Such is the ninth step.  Let him who has taken it have the courage henceforth to ask Jesus the Savior to free him from his sins.

Ladder of Divine Ascent - On Placidity and Meekness

  

           It is only through attaining the virtue of mourning spoken of in the previous step that placidity and meekness may be achieved.  For it is mourning which destroys all anger and any desire to be spoken well of in this life.

            Placidity, or freedom from anger, begins when one keeps silent even when the heart is moved and provoked.  Slowly the virtue develops as one learns to control and silence his thoughts during an angry encounter.  Eventually one is able to remain calm even when a tempest rages about him. 

            Freeing oneself from anger, however, requires great humility and meekness.  For to be free from anger necessitates that one be calm, peaceful and loving to a person who has treated him wrongly.  This is what makes a monastery such a wonderful training ground in John's eyes.  For it is there that one is purified through the constant reproofs and rebuffs of his fellow monks.  Such reproof gradually cleanses a soul of this passion. 

1-8            Placidity and Meekness and their opposites are defined. 

            As the gradual pouring of water on a fire puts out the flame completely, so the tears of genuine mourning can extinguish every flame of anger and irascibility.  Hence this comes next in our sequence.

            Freedom from anger is an endless wish for dishonor, whereas among the vainglorious there is a limitless thirst for praise.  Freedom from anger is a triumph over one's nature.  It is the ability to be impervious to insults, and comes by hard work and the sweat of one's brow.

            Meekness is a permanent condition of that soul which remains unaffected by whether or not it is spoken well of, whether or not it is honored or praised.

            The first step toward freedom from anger is to keep the lips silent when the heart is stirred; the next, to keep thoughts silent when, the soul is upset; the last, to be totally calm when unclean winds are blowing.

            Anger is an indication of concealed hatred, of grievance nursed.  Anger is the wish to harm someone who has provoked you.

            Irascibility is an untimely flaring up of the heart.  Bitterness is a stirring of the soul's capacity for displeasure.  Anger is an easily changed movement of one's disposition, a disfigurement of the soul.

9            The great spiritual damage that even a moment of anger can bring.

            A quick movement of a millstone can grind in one moment and do away with more of the soul's grain and fruit than another crushes in a whole day.  So we must be understanding and we must pay attention, for a strong sudden wind may fan a blaze that will cause more damage to the field of the heart than a lingering flame could ever manage to achieve.  Let us not forget, my friends, that evil demons sometimes leave us unexpectedly, with the result that we may become careless about these strong passions within us, thinking them to be of no consequence, and become, therefore, incurably ill.

10-12            The common life and overcoming anger.

            Take are hard stone with sharp corners.  Knock it and rub it against other stones, until its sharpness and hardness are crushed by the knocking and rubbing and, at last, it is made round.  So too, take a soul that is rough and abrupt.  Put it into the community and company of tough short-tempered men.  One of two things must happen: Either it learns through patience to cure its wound, or it will run away and, by so doing, it will learn its weakness, its cowardly flight showing it up as if in a mirror.

13-14            Signs of true meekness and its absence.

            A sign of utter meekness is to have a heart peacefully and lovingly disposed toward someone who has been offensive, and a sure proof of a hot temper is that a man, even when he is alone, should with word and gesture continue to rage and fulminate against some absent person who has given the offense.

15-30            Anger and its causes must be studied carefully.  The wrong response can actually worsen the problem. Their are many causes for the passion of anger.  Each case must be diagnosed and dealt with individually.  Again, John stresses that some forms of life are better suited for those who struggle with anger.  In his mind the communal life offers the greatest hope in overcoming this vice.

            . . . I have seen men who appeared to be displaying stolid patience, but who, in reality, were silently harboring resentment within themselves.  These, it seems to me, were much more to be pitied than the men prone to explosions of temper, because what they were doing was to keep away the holy white dove with that black gall of theirs.  So this is a serpent that has to be handled carefully, for, like the snake of sensuality, it has nature as its ally.

            I have seen angry men push food away out of sheer bitterness.  And yet by this kind of unreasonable abstinence they merely added poison to poison. 

            You will note that many irritable persons practice vigils, fasting and stillness.  For the devils are trying to suggest to them, under cover of penance and mourning, what is quite likely to increase their passion.

            Someone who notices that he is easily overcome by pride, a nasty temper, malice, and hypocrisy, and who thinks of defending himself against these by unsheathing the double-edged sword of meekness and patience, such a man if he wishes to break free entirely from these vices ought to live in a monastery, as if it were a fuller's shop of salvation.  In particular, he should choose the most austere place.  He will be spiritually stretched and beaten by the insults, injuries, and rebuffs of the brothers.  He may even be physically beaten, trampled on, and kicked, so that he may wash out the filth still lying in the sentient part of his soul.  There is an old saying that reproof is the washtub for the soul's passions, and you ought to believe it, for people in the world who load indignities onto someone and then boast about it to others like to say, "I gave him a good scrubbing."  Which, of course, is quite accurate. 

            The fever suffered by the body is a single symptom but has many causes.  Similarly, the seething movement of our anger and our other passions arises for many different reasons, so that the same cure cannot be offered for all of them.  Hence I would propose that each sick man should very carefully look for his own particular cure, and the first step here is the diagnosis of the cause of the disease.  When this is known, the patients will get the right cure from the hands of God and from their spiritual doctors.  Those who wish to join us in the Lord should therefore come to the spiritual tribunal where we can be tested in various ways and find out about the passions referred to above as well as their causes.

 31-32            Concluding remarks and exhortation.

            So, then, anger the oppressor must be restrained by the chains of meekness, beaten by patience, hauled away by blessed love.  Take it before the tribunal of reason and have it examined in the following terms: "Wretch, tell us the name of your father, the name of the mother who bore you to bring calamity into the world, the names of your loathsome sons and daughters.  Tell us, also who your enemies are and who has the power to kill you."  And this is how anger replies: "I come from many sources and I have more than one father.  My mothers are Vainglory, Avarice, Greed.  And Lust too.  My father is named Conceit.  My Daughters have the names Remembrance of Wrongs, Hate, Hostility and Self-Justification.  The enemies who have imprisoned me are the opposite virtues - Freedom from Anger and Lowliness, while Humility lays a trap for me.  As for Humility, ask in due time who it was that bore her."

            On the eighth step the crown is freedom from anger.  He who wears it by nature may never come to wear another.  But he who has sweated for it and won it has conquered all eight together.

Be Angry, but Do Not Sin: Hesychios on Spiritual Warfare and the Incensive Power of the Soul

Along with the humility, perfect attentiveness, and prayer, Hesychios discusses the importance of the “power of rebuttal” in spiritual warfare.  In a previous post, I began to touch upon the importance of hatred of sin or one’s sinful thoughts for progress in spiritual life and as an essential aspect of a true and abiding love of God.  Love of God and for that which is holy will lead us to hate sin or sinful thoughts and seek to set them aside as soon as they become evident to us.  

This view, it may be helpful to know, arises out of a specific anthropology; an understanding of the powers of the human soul (the appetitive, intelligent, and incensive powers) based upon the tripartite division formulated by Plato in Book IV of his “Republic” and accepted by the Greek Christian Fathers.  According to the glossary of the English translation of the Philokalia, the Appetitive aspect (epithymikon) is the soul’s desiring power, the Intelligent aspect or power (logistikon) is the ruling aspect of the intellect or its operative faculty and the Incensive power (thymikon), which often manifests itself as wrath or anger, but which can be more generally defined as the force provoking vehement feelings. The three aspects can be used positively, that is, in accordance with nature and as created by God, or negatively, that is, in a way contrary to nature and leading to sin. For instance, the Incensive Power can be used positively to repel demonic attacks or to intensify desire for God; but it can also, when not controlled, lead to self-indulgent, disruptive thought and action..." (Vol I, p. 358).  

It is the incensive power of the soul that experiences extreme emotions.  Thus, it can be positive or negative. The positive use of the incensive power is to repel evil thoughts or rebuke demonic attacks; that is, the power of rebuttal.  To put it another way, we use the incensive power correctly when – and only when – we are angry at the things that anger God.  However, having said this, the writers of the Philokalia are clear and consistent in stating that the incensive power was given to us as a defense against sin. 

Here are two very good examples: Using the example of temptations to unchastity, Evagrios writes, “Our incensive power is also a good defence against this demon. When it is directed against evil thoughts of this kind, such power fills the demon with fear and destroys his designs. And this is the meaning of the statement: ‘Be angry, and do not sin’ (Ps. 4:4)” (On Discrimination, section 15, p. 47).  To “be angry and not sin” is to be angry at sin, beginning within oneself. This is why St. Isaiah the Solitary could write, “Without anger a man cannot attain purity: he has to feel angry with all that is sown in him by the enemy.” (On Guarding the Intellect, section 1, p. 22)

The Fathers understand St. Paul well who wrote: "We wrestle not with flesh and blood..."  The enemies whom we are to hate are not our fellow men, but the demonic and unnatural thoughts which attack our day-to-day lives.  To these, the Fathers often applied the words of psalm 137: “O Daughter of Babylon, doomed to destruction, happy is he who repays you for what you have done to us-he who seizes your infants and dashes them against the rocks.”  The "children of Babylon" are the actions born of hatred, of cowardice, of greed and lust, and all the ugly and unnatural thoughts one might have. We are to guard (nepsis) the heart and mind and with the sword of the incensive power drive our unnatural thoughts and temptations away.  

Often we enter into the battle unarmed and Hesychios tells us that without prayer “we have no weapon to fight with.  By this prayer I mean the prayer which is ever active in the inner shrine of the soul, and which by invoking Christ scourges and sears our secret enemy.”  We must not be timid or passive in our response.  Again, Hesychios writes: “The glance of your intellect should be quick and keen, able to perceive the invading demons.  When you perceive one, you should at once rebut it, crushing it like the head of a serpent.  At the same time, call imploringly to Christ, and you will experience God’s unseen help” (Philokalia, Vol. 1, p 165).

Trusting in Christ, humble, prayerful, and having silenced our hearts, we must ever be on the watch for the enemy.  Hesychios provides the following image: “If you wish to engage in spiritual warfare, let that little animal, the spider, always be your example of stillness of heart; otherwise you will not be as still inn your intellect as you should be.  The spider hunts small flies; but you will continually slay ‘the children of Babylon’ if during your struggle you are as still in your soul as is the spider; and in the course of this slaughter you will be blessed by the Holy Spirit” (166).

However, as noted above, while the writers of the Philokalia and Hesychios urge us on in the battle and encourage us to be zealous, they present us with one very important caveat.  Although the incensive aspect of our soul is God-given in order to repel demonic attacks and to intensify our desire for God and His will, if not controlled and transformed by grace and ascetic practices, it can easily lead to self-indulgent and destructive thoughts and actions.  And so, Hesychios tells us: “The incensive power by nature is prone to be destructive.  If it is turned against demonic thoughts it destroys them; but if it is roused against people it then destroys good thoughts that are in us.  In other words, the incensive power, although given as a weapon or a bow against evil thoughts, can be turned the other way and used to destroy good thoughts as well, for it destroys whatever it is directed against” (167).  

We are to be “incensed”  - enraged and infuriated toward all within us that is contrary to love and goodness and fearlessly and swiftly wield the sword against all unholy thoughts.  But in the process we must avoid the temptation to raise this sword against another - the fruit of which is only malice and violence.  Hesychios describes the danger with utmost clarity: “I have seen a spirited dog destroying equally both wolves and sheep” (167).