Beauty and Hesychia

"In the dazzling flesh of divinity, you have shown natural beauty to be even more beautiful O blessed Virgin, we bless the One whom you bore."

Of the Athonite Life it is said: "Sacred matter, that which is given to God, is replete with divine grace.  The souls of the saints fly and flutter about, luminous and full of light.  The relics of the saints perpetually emit the same uncreated and scintillating light; and indescribable and uncreated fragrance pours from their tombs.  Everything around is filled by the beauty of their contrition and the fragrance of heaven."  Yet, if such is so for the monk, then such must also be true for every person filled with grace and part of the Body of Christ.  "True beauty is captivating; it pours forth love.  Furthermore it teaches man to love goodness, offering and sacrifice."  One's entire sojourn and journey along the Christian way proves to be a theological initiation - an initiation into the life of the Divine.  "It molds a person like a deifying womb and nurtures him for a new life.  One comes to believe in the Incarnation of the Logos of God and in the deification (theosis) of that which He assumed.  One comes to live and believe that God is love and perplexing beauty, that the unveiling of His love is a revelation of beauty, and that His beauty is an offering, freely given from the bounty of His goodness.  With this great beauty He refashioned our human substance by His Incarnation, Passion and Resurrection."  From out of the withering, fleeting prison of our sin, we pass through the hour of judgment which breaks us down and resurrects us, toward enduring beauty and the freedom of inexpressible loveliness and the maturity of stillness.  What we learn from the monk is that all men can be saved and become participants in the divine beauty through participation in the Lord's sufferings, through life-bearing mortification. To this end, Archimandrite Vasileios offers us the following reflection: 

The monk’s life is beautiful because it is associated with that awesome hour of judgment and liberation. The monk’s life is a life of repentance and in the final analysis, is also a life of Transfiguration. It is the life of asceticism, labor, pain, endurance and tears. For this reason, it is crowned with divine and mystical consolation, and the beauty of spontaneity, truth and stillness. It is a life of philokalia, the love of beauty.

The monk pursues his love of beauty through his asceticism. He is an artist who grapples not with mere paints, sounds, or words, but struggles instead with his own entire being. He fashions himself. He asked to be given totally to God, to be fashion and by Him so that he can say willingly: “Not my will but Thine be done.“ When this happens, everything is given to him in that hour when he least expects it. His whole life bears the seal of that hour of crucifixion and resurrection. All his life becomes that hour of judgment from which springs the beauty of freely given salvation and the maturity of everlasting hesychia.

Then he either speaks, or writes, or builds, or chooses to remain silent with a comfort and a source of strength which are different.  This is because Someone else is functioning instead of him.  Someone else is speaking and writing, building or remaining silent.

Every hour becomes his sacrifice, his self-offering and thus the emergence as well of a perplexing beauty.  Each of his trials becomes a blessing and so he remains silent and grateful.  His entire self becomes a wound; his entire self becomes a spring of rejoicing.  He lives Good Friday and the Resurrection at the same time.  Every day he dies and every day he is resurrected.  He does not live life as mere biological existence, but rather feels it breaking forth from the tomb at every hour to conquer death.  Everything is a divine gift and a wonderful revelation.  As the Lord said: "Do not be anxious about how you are to speak or what you are to say in that hour."  In that hour, which is eternity, everything is given to him most vividly.

The true and genuine monk, the authentic monk, puts on no pretenses of being something he is not, because he is true.  He moves and behaves unaffectedly.  His entire being radiates the beauty that is within him.  Better put, through his trials and endurance, divine beauty is revealed.  His youth passes, he grows old but is rejuvenated.  He becomes a "good" old man, a peaceful old man, in short, a monk.  There is a comfort and a light which is not created light.  There is a youth which is eternal, a humor which blossoms upon the tough branch of asceticism, and a life which ascends from the tomb.  Such a monk, since he is liberated, plays in the morning of the Resurrection like a carefree child upon the sandy beach of the sea, upon the same seashore on which walks the resurrected Christ.  He is tranquil because the Lord has mortified Hades with the lightning flash of His divinity.

A Beauty exists which abolishes death; a Stillness (hesychia) exists which abounds with eternal blessedness and splendor for all of us.

Archimandrite Vasileios

Abbot of Iveron Monastery, Mount Athos

Beauty and Hesychia in the Athonite Life

City a Desert Video Series: Theosis - Partakers of Divine Life

New Video Series on the Philokalia: Readings on Prayer of the Heart

Beginning January 2017

Reading the Philokalia: "Where do we begin?"

In reading about the Philokalia, I have come across a number of wonderful resources.  Among these have been a few articles by Kallistos Ware about the history of the development of the Philokalia.  The most recent article that I have read is entitled “St. Nikodimos and the Philokalia”, one of a series of papers presented at a conference at Cambridge in 2003 and compiled in a book called “Mount Athos, the Sacred Bridge: The Spirituality of the Holy Mountain.”  The aim of the conference was to draw attention to the historic importance, the spirituality, and the religious legacy of the Holy Mountain.  Much of the article is a very thoughtful exploration of the eighteenth century hesychast renaissance that produced the Philokalia and the key figures responsible for this compilation of the writings of the Fathers and those who influenced them.  Ware’s analysis of the overlap between Velichokovsky’s translation program and the contents of the Greek Philokalia is fascinating and alone makes the article worth reading.  Although I have already touched upon some of this history in previous posts, it would definitely be worthwhile to return to the subject in the future.  Beyond this, in the article Ware addresses issues of readership, the scope and content of the Philokalia and the ultimate goal in reading it.  

However, what I found most interesting for the moment was Ware’s response to the question: “In what order should the different treatises in the Philokalia be read?  Where should we begin?”   It is to this question I would like to turn before going back to a discussion of various themes found in the writings as a whole.  Ware states that it is probably not the best plan, so far as the Philokalia is concerned, to read the writings in chronological order from beginning to end.  Rather, he suggests the following sequence “which corresponds in part, although not entirely, to the reading list supplied in a dream to the Russian Pilgrim by his dead starets, and to a similar list given by Fr. Nikon to the English translators of the Philokalia.”  This list includes: (1) Kallistos and Ignatios Xanthopoulos, ‘Century’ (Philokalia 4, 197-295; ET Writings from the Philokalia on Prayer of the Heart, 164-270), (2) Hesychios, ‘On Watchfulness and Holiness’ (Philokalia 1, 141-73; ET 1, 162-98); (3) Evagrios, ‘On Prayer’ (Philokalia 1, 176-89; ET 1, 55-71); (4) ‘A Discourse on Abba Philimon’ (Philokalia 2, 241-52; ET 2, 344-57); (5) St. Symeon the New Theologian, ‘On Faith’ (Philokalia 5, 73-80; ET 4, 16-24); (6) Gregory of Sinai, ‘On the Signs of Grace and Delusion’; ‘On Stillness’; ‘On Prayer’ (Philokalia 4, 66-88; ET 4, 257-86).  Ware notes that Kadloubovsky and Palmer in their translation “Writings of the Philokalia on Prayer of the Heart, open with the same four authors as on the Pilgrim’s list in the same order and add texts from Gregory of Sinai and Symeon the New Theologian.  

Ware does not get into specifics about why this particular grouping may be significant but simply holds it forward as a starting point given the unique nature of the work and its central themes.  He does, however, offer us the following insights: “‘Not a book but a library’: so Kaisarios Daponte described the Philokalia.  It is, however, a library with a specific character and an all-embracing unity.  Although it has much to say about love for our fellow humans and practical compassion, its theme is not social and political action.  Equally its primary subject is not outward asceticism or liturgical prayer.  Its concern is rather with the ‘inner Kingdom’ of the heart, and it shows how this ‘inner Kingdom’ is to be explored through the acquisition of ‘nepsis’ and ‘hesychia’, and through the ceaseless invocation of the Holy Name of Jesus.  It sets before us, as our ultimate raison d’etre, the attainment of self-transcending ‘theosis’, through a union of love whereby we participate in God’s uncreated energies, although not in his essence.  In this way it proclaims both the otherness and the nearness of the eternal; God is beyond and above the entire creation, the greatest mystery of all mysteries, yet he is at the same time everywhere present and fills all things.  Although the Philokalia is neither exhaustive nor systematic, none the less these unifying master themes justify us in speaking of a distinctively ‘philokalic’ spirituality.  The work is indeed exactly what St. Nikodimos of the Holy Mountain claimed it to be: ‘a mystical school of noetic prayer’ (119). 

In the past, I have read the four volumes of the Philokalia and the “Writings from the Philokalia on Prayer of the Heart” as they became available to me and from beginning to end.  Before moving ahead in my own study, I plan to reread the texts in the order suggested above - - keeping Ware’s insights and the historical realities he unpacks in mind and trusting the guidance given to the Russian Pilgrim.  Perhaps in doing so and with the aid of the Holy Spirit, a clearer understanding of the viewpoint of the late eighteenth century will emerge and the desire of St. Nikodimos, St. Makarios and others to revive the neptic-hesychastic spiritual tradition will be enlivened in my own heart.

Philokalia: Abiding in the Eternal Beauty that Saves the World

The Philokalia is much more than an anthology: a collection of spiritual writings.  It speaks of and points the way to something far more wonderful.  Indeed, we read the Philokalia because of what our hearts already desire: Jesus and the life he has made possible for us.  Anthony Coniaris, in his book, Philokalia: the Bible of Orthodox Spirituality offers us the following reflections:

“If Philokalia is ‘the love of the beautiful,’ let us remember that the ‘beautiful’ one is none other than the Lord Jesus.  As Dostoyevsky wrote, ‘In the world there has been only one positively beautiful person - Christ.  Therefore, the appearance of this wonderful, infinitely beautiful person is in itself an infinite miracle.  The entire Gospel of John is devoted to precisely this.  In it, St. John declares that the whole miracle is in the Incarnation alone, in the very manifestation or emergence of the beautiful.’  God is the source of all that is truly beautiful, resplendent with God’s glory.  ‘Such beauty,’ wrote Dostoyevsky, ‘created by God, will ultimately save the world.’  ‘Blessed is the mind which, passing by all creatures, constantly rejoices in God’s beauty,’ wrote St. Maximus the Confessor.  God is love; but He is also the source of all that is truly beautiful.  Beauty is the outer expression of God’s resplendent glory.  Such beauty will indeed ‘save the world.’ ‘Who can gaze at His face and remain without divine eros for such beauty?’ said St. Gregory of Nyssa.  If there is any authentic beauty in the world, it is but a reflection of the beauty of Christ.”

We are to keep our eyes fixed upon this Eternal Beauty who is Christ, knowing that nothing is more splendid.  Beyond this, we must understand that God has called us to share in this Beauty and that we are to be the living icons of it within the world.  If we read the Philokalia, it is because it is directed to the virtues which are the qualities that make the soul beautiful and God-like.  

Gregory of Nyssa tells us, “For this is the safest way to protect the good thing you enjoy: by realizing how much your Creator has honored you above all other creatures.  He did not make the heavens in His image, nor the moon, nor the sun, nor the beauty of the stars, nor anything else which surpasses all understanding.  You alone are an icon of Eternal Beauty, and if you look at Him, you will become what He is, imitating Him Who shines within you, whose glory is reflected in your purity.  Nothing in all creation can equal your grandeur.  All the heavens can fit in the palm of God’s hand . . .and though He is so great . . .you can wholly embrace Him.  He dwells within you . . .He pervades your entire being . . .  .”

Reflecting on Nyssa’s words, Coniaris concludes: “The only positively beautiful Person Who ever lived was the Lord Jesus.  To be created in His image is to be created in the image of beauty.  To be holy as He is holy is to be beautiful.  To live in Christ is to abide in beauty.  To know Him we need to love Him as much as Dostoyevsky did when he wrote: ‘Sometimes God sends me moments in which I am utterly at peace.  In those moments I have constructed for myself a creed in which everything is clear and holy for me.  Here it is: to believe that there is nothing more beautiful, more profound, more sympathetic, more reasonable, more courageous and more perfect than Christ, and not only is there nothing, but I tell myself with jealous love, that there never could be.’

All quotes taken from Philokalia: the Bible of Orthodox Spirituality by Anthony Coniaris, pp. 11-18; Light and Life Publishing Company

"Men Intoxicated with God": Reading the Lives of the Desert Father Iconographically

In these early posts, I want to try to think through for myself as clearly as possible how to consider the lives and the writings of the Desert Fathers and how they and their remarkable efforts have played a key and decisive role in the destiny of Christianity.  Recently I have been reading Paul Evdokimov’s work called The Struggle with God.  It is a superb work and I will be following closely his chapter on the Desert Fathers.  He begins by telling us that “ ‘for those who love his coming’ (2 Tim 4:8) the Christian city that the Empire of Constantine undertook to build is profoundly ambiguous.”   “Time appears entirely relative to the return of Christ who will surprise us ‘as a thief in the night’.  Qualitatively, since the day of Pentecost, we live in the latter days, and the parousia that has begun despoils the centuries of their apparent stability.”  In many ways we can only understand the ascetic movement to the desert in light of this ambiguity.  There is a paradoxical movement or reversal that takes place at this moment.  “It is no longer the pagan world that fights and eliminates the martyr; it is the hermit who takes up the attack and eliminates the world from his being.  The Fathers brought back the atmosphere of fighting of the first centuries, finding the equivalent of the aggressive forms of persecution.  The arenas where the wild beasts had torn the martyrs apart were replaced by the immense desert where more fearful beasts rise up, and where the demoniacal powers cast their shadows.”(page 94)  

There is a great temptation for the reader of their lives and writings to think of their asceticism as a bizarre aberration or something comical - reducing the secret depths of their lives to the surface appearance.  But, Evdokimov, tells us, “they become normal for a nature that is on fire.”  Therefore, our reflection on their lives must in itself become contemplative - opening itself up to the deep mystery of their lives and what it reveals.  Again, Evdokimov insightfully captures what the nature of our approach to the Fathers must be:  

“When they discovered the powerlessness of words, they counseled veneration of the mystery by silence.  This is just what the icon does.  An icon of a saint tells us nothing of his physical appearance and gives no biographical, historical, or sociological detail.  It shows the radiating influence of the man beyond history.  A saint bears history within himself, but he shows it in a different manner; he reveals a new dimension of it, in which its meaning is made clear by its last end.  He constitutes a meta-historical synthesis.  We must read the lives of the desert Fathers iconographically, just as we contemplate an icon.” (page 98)  What this means we will consider in later posts. . . .  

Claiming Our Inheritance: The Relevance of the Philokalia Today

As Christians, we have received a great legacy through the Church and the Fathers - the grace of baptism, the Eucharist, the Scriptures, the privilege of prayer, the deposit of faith and the writings of the Fathers on the spiritual life.  Yet, how many have left the Church.  And among those who remain within it, how many have never claimed their inheritance or are even aware of it?  

The inheritance is not ours until we claim it and it is precisely through the Philokalia that we embrace these great treasures.  Anthony Coniaris writes that among the Orthodox Christians the influence of the Philokalia is second only to the Bible.  This is so, he tells us, because the Philokalia “is nothing more than a living out of the Bible.”  We have squandered our inheritance and the result is that we find ourselves living in a spiritual and moral vacuum.  The Philokalia seeks to show us how to develop our inner powers and wake from the illusion of sin, how to overcome inner fragmentation caused by our disordered passions and how to foster the privilege of prayer through inner stillness.  Through baptism we have received the grace of God for growth in the life of Christ and this ember must be fanned into the full flame of faith.  St. Nicodemus puts it this way: “Because, brethren, we have fallen into sins after baptism and consequently have buried the grace of the Holy Spirit which was given to us at our Baptism, it is necessary that we make every effort to recover that original grace which is found deeply buried underneath our passions, like an ember in ashes.  This ember of grace we must fan into a new flame in our hearts.  In order to do that, we must remove the passions from our hearts as ashes from a fireplace and replace them with the firewood of obedience in the life-giving commandments of the Lord.  We can blow upon the spark with heartfelt repentance of the mind and with the repetition of this prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son and Word of God, have mercy on me.”  When this prayer remains permanently in our heart, it cleanses us from the ashes of the passions, and finding the ember of grace within, it strikes up a wondrous and strange fire.  This fire, on the one hand, burns away the temptation of evil thoughts, and, on the other, it sweetens the whole inner person and enlightens the mind.”  The Philokalia,then, is not some relic from the past but “a living guide for contemporary Christians.”  It is meant to alter peoples lives and to have a supremely practical purpose. 

The Great Legacy to be Received from the Fathers of the Church

As was mentioned in earlier posts, the Philokalia must be read and taught about with great care (docility, humility) and not separated from the liturgical and sacramental life of the Church.  There is always a a great danger when one tries to popularize theology or the writings of the Fathers for example.  The coming into fashion of the profoundest spiritual or theological writings is not necessarily a good thing.  It doesn't mean that we stop reading these things, but all of us must approach these Fathers with fear of God, humility and with a great distrust of our own wisdom and judgment - things sadly lacking in our day. Even the most beautiful of works (like the Philokalia) can be studied in a self willed way and presented in vain minded and banal fashion which leads to subtle deception.  Indeed, it is even a struggle, to be sure, for the orthodox Catholic Christian living in our day of puffed up knowledge to escape some of the pitfalls lying in wait for those who wish to read such works in their full meaning and content. Yet, having said this, the writings are concerned with themes of universal importance for all of those who are seeking to live holy lives in accord with the teachings of the Gospel - - watchfulness of heart, stillness, unceasing prayer and the struggle with the passions.  These writings are not only for monks but for all those who are striving for union with God.  St. Tikhon, it has been said, called on all Christians to become “untonsured monks.”  Such a return to the sources of our spiritual tradition is meant to accomplish just that - to bring the spirituality of the Philokalia into our everyday living.  The desired result of such an endeavor is to live holy lives that will bring glory to God.    One of the most beautiful invitations to read the Philokalia comes from St. Nicodemus who complied these great writings. I can't think of a more wonderful invitation to read the Philokalia than these words of St. Nicodemus:

"Come, therefore, come and eat the bread of knowledge and wisdom, and drink the wine which spiritually delights the heart and dispels all the material and immaterial things because of deification - which is caused by the liberation of ourselves - and become inebriated with the truly alert inebriation. Come all you who seek to find the kingdom of God which is hidden in the field of your heart. And this is the sweet Christ. Thus being freed from the imprisonment of this world and the wandering of the mind, with our heart purified from the passions, with the awesome unceasing invocation of our Lord Jesus Christ together with the collaborating virtues, which this book teaches, you will be united among yourselves, and united this way, you will be united with God, according to the prayer of our Lord to his Father, who said, "So they may be one, as we are one."

Love of the Beautiful

The Philokalia ("love of the beautiful", a love for everything of God, beauty’s source) is a collection of texts written between the fourth and fifteenth centuries by spiritual masters of the Eastern Christian contemplative, ascetic and hesychast tradition.  They describe the conditions most effective for learning what their authors call the art of arts and the science of sciences, a learning which is not a matter of information or agility of mind but of a radical change of will and heart leading man towards the highest possibilities open to him, shaping and nourishing the unseen part of his being, and helping him to spiritual fulfillment and union with God.   This blog is a personal journal of my reflections on these writings and their basic themes.  It was 25 years ago, as a young novice of the Congregation of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri in Pittsburgh, that I was first introduced to the Philokalia and have found myself deeply attracted to and profoundly influenced by this spiritual tradition that has been transmitted over almost two millennia.  Until recently, most of the writings of the Philokalia were only known in the West by a few specialists, but the hesychast current was by no means foreign to the Western spiritual tradition.  St. John Cassian transmitted the doctrine of the Desert Fathers and Evagrius Pontus to the Latin world and was read tirelessly by western monastics and other spiritually serious Western Christians, including St. Philip Neri.   These writings are the legacy we receive from the Fathers and our study of them fidelity to the Church’s call over the past fifty years to return to the sources (ressourcement) of the patristic tradition.