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

Don't be Apathetic about Apatheia

One interesting aspect of philokalic spirituality is what the desert fathers describe as “apatheia”.  It is the fruit of one’s long struggle with the passions through the ascetic life and prayer and is considered a positive state of grace.  Even though the word has its origin in stoic philosophy, in the Eastern Christian spiritual tradition it has nothing to do with stoic apathy, or what might be considered a state of indifference.  “It is a positive state of self-control, or rather, Christ-control or Spirit-control.  It is the stilling of all the passionate thoughts through askesis, purity of heart, and the gift of tears.  It is being anchored and rooted in God, in the peace that passes all understanding” (Coniaris, “Beginners Introduction to the Philokalia, 70).  

Thus, it expresses a kind of deep freedom that only comes through absolute dependence upon God and His grace.  Apatheia is not something one achieves simply through strength of will but rather through such a radical openness to God’s grace and action that a man “no longer lives for himself, but Christ lives in him.”  Also translated as “dispassion”, it has been described as a restoration of the state of our true nature and living in the freedom that is ours as those who have been made sons and daughters of God.  The passions have not been destroyed but rather transformed and ordered towards God and the peace of the kingdom: man by grace exerts a control over the passions and is in charge of himself once again.

Psychologically this is not a suppression or a cutting off of the soul’s powers; not an unhealthy functioning but rather a redirecting of those powers toward the good and the holy.  The dispassionate man is freer to love and give himself in love because he is no longer driven by selfish desire.  We see this in the saints who commonly manifest the glory, the freedom, and the joy of the kingdom.  St. Symeon the New Theologian describes it as a “foretaste of heaven, God’s reward for those who have ‘fought the good fight of faith’” (Coniaris, 74).

This transfiguration of the passions has been captured beautifully by St. John Climacus who wrote: “I have seen impure souls who threw themselves headlong into physical eros to a frenzied degree.  It was their very experience of that eros that led them to interior conversion.  They concentrated their eros (love) on the Lord.  Rising above fear they tried to love God with an insatiable desire.  That is why, when Christ spoke of the woman who had been a sinner, he did not say that she had been afraid, but that she had loved much and had easily been able to surmount love by love” (Coniaris, Philokalia, The Bible of Orthodox Spirituality, 162).  

The rewards of the struggle for apatheia are great and by God’s grace the passions can be turned into virtues.  Anthony Coniaris writes: “pride can become humility; lust can become agape, the sacrificial love that God has for us; anger can become righteous indignation against evil; greed can become generosity; unfaithfulness can become steadfastness; envy can become ‘rejoicing with those who rejoice;‘ sloth can become diligence; sensuality can become spirituality - all of this can be accomplished by God’s grace and our cooperation with His grace through askesis, prayer, and vigilance.

Such a notion is so foreign in contemporary culture that sees and understands freedom as the ability to do whatever one wants and to satisfy one’s desires, even the basest of them without restriction, internal or external.  Therefore, the joy of chaste love is mocked and denigrated because it is rarely experienced or sought.  The bondage that most people in our hyper-sexualized or hyper-sensualized culture experience is so great that the freedom and the increased capacity for love is beyond their conception.  Their true self and personality has become so stunted and immature in its development that it fosters a profound boredom and inner dis-ease that can only be addressed by constantly pushing the boundaries of what is moral and ethical.  This shifting of boundaries gradually and inevitably leads to a disintegration of self and identity.  The depth and the beauty of all that is good and true about the human person is exchanged for the superficial and the banal.  

The fruit of dispassion/apatheia, however, is the restoration and integration of the human person.  Fr. George Florovsky defines it as “a state of spiritual activity, which is acquired only after struggles and ordeals . . . Each person’s ‘I‘ is finally regained, freeing oneself from fatal bondage.  But one can regain oneself only in God.  True ‘impassibility‘ is achieved only in an encounter with the Living God.  The path which leads there is the path of obedience, even of servitude to God, but this servitude engenders true freedom . . . In God the personality is restored and reintegrated in the Holy Spirit” (Coniaris, 166).  

We are desiring beings, which means we experience a certain lack or incompleteness in ourselves; a lack that only God can ultimately satisfy and fulfill.  Apatheia restores our ability not only to see this truth but also the freedom to desire virtue and “redirect the energy of the passions toward loving that which holy and good” (Coniaris, 166).   

Desert Fathers and Searching the Depths of the Unconscious: Descending with the Mind into the Heart

In a number of previous posts, I have already mentioned, albeit in a cursory fashion, the importance of the Heart in Philokalic Spirituality.  Yet, one cannot emphasize enough the significance and centrality of its place in the writings of the desert fathers.  Therefore, having a clear notion of how they define the Heart and its place in the spiritual and ascetical life is imperative for anyone wishing to approach the study of the Philokalia.  

The Heart is not simply a physical organ but rather the very epicenter of one’s identity as a person, one’s capacity to know, love and choose.  St. Maximus explains this as follows: “The mind’s aim is to have knowledge of God.  The sensation’s aim is to desire and love God, and the volition’s aim is the will to do what God commands.”  For this reason, the Heart has often been called “The Lord’s Reception Room.”  

Yet, given the fact that it encompasses all of the above mentioned faculties through which we are receptive to and engage God and the things of the world, Anthony Coniaris reminds us that it can also be the reception room, the abode, of demons, sin and evil.  As one familiar with modern psychology, in particular psychoanalytic thought, I found Coniaris‘ comparison of the Heart to the Unconscious to be of great interest and perhaps a helpful means to understand this central concept of the fathers’ thought.  He writes:

“In the heart, or the unconscious, are buried all the things we ever did (now forgotten) as well as all the passions we have inherited.  Jesus spoke specifically to this truth when He said, ‘Out of the heart’, the unconscious (not the conscious mind), ‘proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, murders . . .things which defile a person’ (Mark 7:21-23).  Yet out of the same unconscious mind, buried in the heart, we have also inherited many good things as well, such as the voice of conscience, the knowledge of God, a sense of right and wrong, etc.” (58)

While it is beyond the scope of this present post and while the nuances and distinctions about the unconscious that modern psychoanalytic thought makes might be quite different, Coniaris’ observation and comparison is astute and the similarities between the Heart and the Unconscious are indeed numerous and worthy of exploration.  Indeed, the fathers could rightfully be called the first psychoanalysts, seeking through prayer, ascetical practice and the solitude of the desert to enter into the depths.  They understood and respected the mystery of the human person, the contradictions found within and the value of becoming more conscious of both the integrating and disintegrating factors that establish personal identity for good or ill.  This is captured well by noted philosopher, religious writer and co-translator of the Philokalia, Philip Sherrard:

“ The receptacle of grace, the ‘place of the presence of divine life, is where we encounter God and in union with God become integrated and transfigured beings.  The art of the spiritual life is therefore to become conscious of the ‘treasure hidden in the heart‘ - to become conscious of the real but un-apprehended presence of God in the heart; and this art is effectuated by inducing the intellect, freed from extraneous thoughts and images, to ‘descend’ into the heart and so become conscious of the divine presence hidden there.”  

Again, while perhaps the nuances of an analytic understanding and exploration of the unconscious and the purposes of such an exploration may differ greatly, both appreciate the mystery and complexity that is the human person.  St. Macarious describes it insightfully: 

“Within the heart there are unfathomable depths.  There are reception rooms and bedchambers in it, doors and porches, and many offices and passages.  In it is the workshop of righteousness and of wickedness.  In it is death; in it is life . . . The heart is Christ’s palace: there Christ the King comes to take rest, with angels and the spirit of the saints, and he dwells there, walking within it and places his Kingdom there.” (60)

While appreciating the mystery of the human person, it should be clear even from the one reference above that these masters of the inner life had a different end in view with the descent of the mind into the heart.  Their goal was not a psychological integration or to create an emotional narrative through which they might understand their thoughts and feelings.  These are certainly valuable and may take place in the course of one’s spiritual life, but it simply wasn’t in their purview.  Their end, in light of their faith, was not integration so much as transformation through of rediscovery of the grace of Baptism and the Holy Spirit dwelling within us.  To descend with the mind into the heart is, most importantly, to discover there the kingdom of God.  Through great ascetic effort and the struggle of prayer one seeks to reach a state which is free from all disturbance and there to encounter the God who dwells within.  This encounter is what transforms, illuminates and purifies.  The healing that is sought is that of the whole person by “tending to the inner flame of the Holy Spirit which burns before the image (icon) of God in the chapel of our heart.” (114)

All quotes taken from “A Beginners Introduction to the Philokalia” by Anthony Coniaris

Theosis: Partakers of the Divine Nature

After the most recent post on Asceticism, it is appropriate to consider the goal of such discipline and aim of Philokalic spirituality.  Simply put, it is the attainment of union with God and what the Fathers referred to as theosis or deification.  St. Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain tells us that the Philokalia is the “instrument itself of deification.”  Such a view is shared among contemporary Orthodox Christians: “Thus, the Philokalia, the single most important collection of Orthodox spiritual texts is, in effect, perhaps the best guidebook, next to the Bible, to the means of theosis.  Its purpose is precisely to help us fulfill our calling to theosis or union with God” (Coniaris, “Philokalia: Bible of Orthodox Spirituality”, 132).  

Theosis is the foundation, purpose and goal of life.  This is expressed beautifully in Kenneth Leach’s introduction to Tito Coliander’s work “The Way of the Ascetics”: “Orthodoxy is not primarily a system or a correctness in doctrinal formulations.  Doxa means glory.  Orthodoxy is therefore concerned with ‘right glory,’ and it is therefore rooted in the sense of theology as inseparable from human transformation.  The purpose of theology is nothing less than the transfiguring of human life ‘from glory to glory.’  At the center of Orthodox theology and spirituality is the theme of theosis, deification, the raising of manhood into God.  This is the aim of the liturgy, the Eucharistic celebration which stands at the center of all worship and all life.”  Thus, the “resourcement”, the return to the sources of our faith that was envisioned by Vatican II also and importantly includes rediscovery of the writings of the Philokalia.  Such a rediscovery is important not simply in the quest for Christian unity.  “It is essential if we are to recover that lost sense of the mystical and prayerful character of all theology.  All theology is mystical theology; all theology is social theology.  For it is rooted in ‘the life hidden with Christ in God’ and in the social life of the Holy Trinity. . .the way of the ascetics is not a gloomy, world-denying path; it is a way of doxa, of glory, whose aim is nothing less than our deification” (Colliander, “The Way of the Ascetics, ix-xi).

Sometimes in the busyness of life, which can include a kind of Christian activism, we can lose sight of our dignity and destiny: we can lose sight of the ultimate aim of God for sending his Son into the world to become man.  We must return again and again to the words of the scriptures: “For God has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to His purpose which He set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in Christ, things in heaven and things on earth” (Eph. 1:9-10) and “We know that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is” (1 John 3:2).  God has created us for Himself and sharing in His life is our glorious destiny - to become, by grace, partakers of the divine nature.  “In other words, the mystery of union between humanity, i.e., all of us and Christ is the ultimate aim of the incarnation, the crucifixion, the resurrection - nay, of creation as a whole.  Thus, union with God is the foundation of the Church and the mystery of the Gospel.  It was this union with God that Christ petitioned the Father to grant in our behalf when He prayed in John 17:21, ‘. . . that they also may be one in us’” (Coniaris, 133).

Theosis is not just a beautiful word and we must not reduce it to a theological concept; rather, it must be allowed to speak to everyday life - to penetrate and illuminate our trials, burdens and struggles.  “Theosis has everything to say to struggling humanity.  It tells us that we have the capacity through the presence of God within us to transcend and overcome any and every difficulty in life, including the greatest of all: death.  Theosis tells us that we are not paupers, or beggars but sons and daughters of God, sharing His glory, partaking of His Nature, destined to inherit His eternal kingdom.  Theosis tells us that we are more than conquerors through Him Who loved us.  Theosis tells us to ‘hang in there’ no matter how hard the struggle or the temptation because God has great things in store for us.  As St. Paul says, ‘I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us’ (Rom. 8:18)” (Coniaris, 137).  

The means to Theosis is the grace of God and all the ways that He provides to draw us close to Him and to share His life with us; the sacraments, repentance, obedience to the commandments, reading the Word of God, faith, hope, love, service of neighbor, constant prayer, and the struggle of sin and temptation.

As we embrace all of these things we come to see the preciousness of the gift of our life and why it is worth living.  “It is worth living because Christ loves you.  It is worth living because Christ died for you and rose again to give you life.  It is worth living because with Christ, life is both eternal and abundant.  But life is worth living, above all because in Christ your destiny is theosis, becoming Christ-like, god by grace.  Therefore, choose Christ and live.  With Christ, life can be lived meaningfully, divinely, royally, victoriously, and eternally” (Coniaris, 145). 

Asceticism and Philokalic Spirituality: The Way of Beauty, Freedom and Love

As mentioned in previous posts, the word asceticism in modern times often has a negative connotation for people and conjures images of extreme mortification that is an affront modern sensibilities.  Even for the faithful Christian, an understanding of asceticism as a way of life and expression of Christian identity may be amorphous at best and such practices may only be embraced episodically and minimally during penitential seasons.  This is a strange state given the fact that asceticism is not solely and exclusively a religious reality but a human one.  To invest oneself in anything of value, indeed to grow in any way physically or intellectually, requires ascesis; that is, it requires an exercise of the faculties of the mind and the regular use of the body.  No one questions or doubts the value of the discipline of study embraced by the academic, the regular and intense training of the athlete, or the long hours of practice of the accomplished musician.  Such asceticism is seen as natural and essential for growth and development.

Part of the value of reading the Philokalia is that it helps us begin to see more clearly the value and importance of ascetic practice as an integral part of our Christian life and   identity.  Christianity in part can be described as the life of ascesis; heeding Christ’s call to die to self and sin and live for God, to order the passions, resist temptations, to strive (agona - struggle) to enter by the narrow gate. St. John Chrysostom said: “we are baptized in order to struggle.” Asceticism is a whole way of life.

Anthony Coniaris has a wonderful chapter on asceticism in his work “Philokalia: The Bible of Orthodox Spirituality.”   He offers much to ponder in the chapter, but what I found most intriguing was how he stresses the ascetical nature of Christian life and spirituality and why we should not see it as a burden but rather a blessing to be fostered.  It is a gift through which we are drawn into the life of our Lord and open ourselves to be, as St. Paul says, transformed by the grace of God and move from glory to glory until the image of Christ comes to perfection in us.  

For example, Coniaris tells us that asceticism is the means to a very precious end: restoring the original beauty of the image of God in which we have all been created.  “Askesis is Philokalia, love for the beauty of God’s darkened image in man which it strives to restore to its original beauty.  Askesis is the struggle to renounce my ego which looks at the world as existing only to satisfy my needs and desires.  Askesis is described by St. Paul as ‘pressing on toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus’ (Phil. 3:14)” (p. 115)

Thus, asceticism in religious practice, is not about developing talents and abilities.  Indeed, it not about the self at all, not an end but a means.  It is the way of love.  “The real aim of the monk’s lives was not asceticism but God Himself, and the way to God was the way of love.  For God is love.  Though they practiced austerity themselves, when they received guests, they received them as if they were Christ, hiding their austerity, and welcoming them with great charity.  Archimandrite Sophrony wrote,  ‘Acquiring . . . love is the ultimate purpose of Christian asceticism. . . The ascetic ideal is to cultivate love for God in man’s mind, heart and soul. . . The Church Fathers keep warning us that if ascetic discipline is devoid of love in the Lord, it turns into a source of depression and pride on account of self-righteousness. “No asceticism deprived of love comes near to God” (Ibid., 125).

While such ascetic practice may seem constraining and limiting what it leads to is a deep and personal liberty; a liberty that many of us perhaps have never really tasted and so have a hard time valuing.  Simply put, ascesis sets us free.  “The body is enslaved by the flesh.  Attached to so many things, the body lusts after many unattainable prizes that ultimately it becomes enslaved.  Askesis helps liberate the body from its compulsions.  If we overeat, askesis seeks to help us overcome that enslavement.  If we continually crave power and approval, askesis seeks to help us grow beyond this craving.  If we are enslaved by lust, askesis seeks to help us shatter its shackles.  Far from being stultifying and burdensome, the true goal of askesis is to set us free in spirit that we may commit ourselves totally to Christ our God. . . .Someone said, “In asceticism there are many thorns, but, oh, what roses!” (Ibid., 125).

This way of asceticism - the way of beauty, love and freedom - is meant for all.  While Philokalic spirituality arises out of monastic life, all alike (monks and laity) are invited to the practice of asceticism.  St. Nikodemus call us: “come and eat the the bread of knowledge and wisdom, and drink the wine which spiritually delights the heart . . .and become inebriated with the truly alert inebriation.  Come all . . .together, lay people and monastics, all of you who seek to find the kingdom of God which is within you, as well as the treasure which is hidden in the field of your heart.  And this is the sweet Christ!” (Ibid., 126)  

For those living in the world, “‘askesis should not be identified with the extreme external disciplines associated with the word ‘ascetic’ - harsh fasts, long vigils, and strict self-denial regarding every earthly blessing.  Rather the essence of askesis involves the struggle in our hearts between good and evil, God and Satan, the Kingdom and the world.  Its goal is the new life in Christ.  Its principles are the teachings of Christ.  Its power is the grace of Christ experienced especially in the Eucharist and personal prayer.  Askesis is for all, not only monastics.  Each Christian is called to be a spiritual athlete who with his whole mind, heart and actions contends, within himself, family, and community for the supreme priority of the Kingdom, believing that all the other necessary things will be given to us as well by God’” (Ibid., 127).  

While each of us has a different station in life depending on our particular vocation, each is called to the perfection of love demanded by and in imitation of our Lord. “There are not two separate spiritualities, one for the monks and another for lay people.  There is only one spirituality for all.  St. John Chrysostom wrote: ‘When Christ orders us to follow the narrow path, he addresses himself to all.  The monastics and lay persons must attain the same heights. . . . they will have the same account to render’” (Ibid., 127). 

The Heart of Philokalic Spirituality: The Jesus Prayer

As we continue our reading of “On Watchfulness and Holiness”, Hesychios emphasizes the importance of prayer to Jesus in the spiritual battle; in particular, the Jesus Prayer.  

“You will not find a greater help than Jesus in all your life, for He alone, as God, knows the deceitful ways of the demons, their subtlety and their guile.”  

The Jesus prayer is at the heart of philokalic spirituality for the simple reason that Jesus must be there.  It is through Him alone that we are redeemed and it through his presence alone that we can overcome the temptations of the demons and be healed of our passions.  And so, Hesychios exhorts us: 

“Let your soul . . . trust in Christ, let it call on Him and never fear; for it fights, not alone, but with the aid of a mighty King, Jesus Christ, Creator of all that is, both bodiless and embodied, visible and invisible.”  

It is with utmost humility and trust that we call upon Christ as both the publican and blind man did in the gospel: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.”  And when we do this, we likewise seek to fulfill the biblical command to “pray without ceasing.”  There is much to be said about this important prayer and we will come back to it repeatedly in future posts.  However, Hesychios begins by telling us that the more we pray it, the more we call upon the name of Jesus, the greater our joy becomes and the more pliable our hearts become in order that they might once again be shaped and formed in accord with His will:  

“The more the rain falls on the earth, the softer it makes it; similarly, Christ’s holy name gladdens the earth of our heart the more we call upon it.” 

We find this echoed in the experiences of the Russian peasant in the spiritual classic “The Way of the Pilgrim” as he immersed himself more and more fully in the practice of the Jesus Prayer.  He came to know the transforming joy and power of the name of Jesus and came to understand what it means to have the Kingdom of God within you:

“When I prayed in my heart, everything around me seemed delightful and marvelous.  The trees, the grass, the birds, the air, the light seemed to be telling me that they existed for man’s sake, that they witnessed to the love of God for man, that all things prayed to God and sang his praise. . .The invocation of the Name of Jesus gladdened my way.  Everybody was kind to me.  If anyone harms me I have only to think, ‘How sweet is the Prayer of Jesus!’ and the injury and the anger alike pass away and I forget it all. . . Sometimes there was such a bubbling up in my heart and a lightness, a freedom, a joy so great that I was transformed and felt in ecstasy.  Sometimes I felt a burning love for Jesus Christ and for the whole divine creation.  Sometimes my tears flowed all on their own in thanksgiving to the Lord who had mercy on me, such a hardened sinner.  Sometimes the sweet warmth of my heart spilled over into all my being, and I felt the presence of the Lord with great emotion.  Sometimes, I felt a powerful and deep joy invoking the name of Jesus Christ, and I understood the meaning of his saying, ‘The Kingdom of God is within you’”(from the Way of the Pilgrim).  

There is both power and presence in the name of Jesus, “the name that is above every name.”  According to Anthony Coniaris, “the name of Jesus alone can fulfill the whole need of the one who prays when it is prayed with faith and with a life that is lived in obedience to Christ” (“Philokalia: the Bible of Orthodox Spirituality, 45).  

It is for these reasons that Hesychios states so firmly: 

“Those who lack experience should know that it is only through the unceasing watchfulness of our intellect (nous) and the constant invocation of Jesus Christ, . . that we, coarse and cloddish in mind and body as we are, can overcome our bodiless and invisible enemies . . .” (Philokalia, Vol 1, 169)

Through the constant invocation of Jesus Christ, Christ is present in the heart and so we are both strengthened and changed.  Perhaps nowhere is this captured more beautifully than in the words of St. John Chrysostom where we are told that through the Jesus Prayer we find both victory in our spiritual battle and unity with our God:

“I implore you, brethren, never to break or despise the rule of this prayer: A Christian when he eats, drinks, walks, sits, travels or does any other thing must continually cry: ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.‘  So that the name of the Lord Jesus descending into the depths of the heart, should subdue the serpent ruling over the inner pastures and bring life and salvation to the soul.  He should always live with the name of the Lord Jesus, so that the heart swallows the Lord and the Lord the heart, and the two become one.  And again: do not estrange your heart from God, but abide in Him, and always guard your heart by remembering our Lord Jesus Christ, until the name of the Lord becomes rooted in the heart and it ceases to think anything else.”

One contemporary writer, Fr Theophanes from Kafsokalyvia, Holy Mount Athos, captures the beauty and power of this constant invocation similarly in his work “The Psychological Basis of Mental Prayer in the Heart.”  Fr. Theophanes tells us that we can think of the Jesus Prayer iconographically:

“We might compare this repetitive play to a verbal icon which renders charismatically present him who is portrayed.  This is the mental representation explained in the language of the theology of icons.  Just as demonic mental representations pollute and disorient the person, so the mental representation of the name of Jesus together with all the mental representations which are introduced by the formula being used make joyous and gladden the heart. This has much to do with the person of Jesus. His name is his icon in the intellect of the person praying the Jesus Prayer. His name warms the soul by making Jesus himself present in the soul of the person praying, in the same way that an icon makes him present in that person’s home.”

Such thoughts make it clear that the Fathers and Hesychios are not simply describing a Christian kind of “mantra” in the Jesus Prayer but a great deal more; for while indeed such a prayer repeatedly places certain representations before the intellect and soul, it does so in the context of the faith and life of a Christian and the one invoked is God from God and Light from Light, true God from true God.  Such an invocation brings about not only the deepest healing but through it we are transformed, as St. Paul says, from glory to glory until the two hearts become one; where the estrangement of sin passes away and only an abiding love remains.

The Potential Enigma of Philokalic Spirituality for the Western Mind

To the Western mind, the starkness of philokalic spirituality with its constant emphasis on watchfulness, and the controlling of thoughts through unceasing prayer may be perplexing.  There is in the West an almost inherent suspicion of things, especially spiritual, regarding asceticism involving restriction of thoughts unless such practices are stripped of anything approaching moral judgment or recognition of evil influence.  One might, for example, be attracted to and engage in certain practices of meditation if the emphasis is on obtaining peace of mind and obtaining a state of inner calmness.  Among those who do have religious and moral sensibilities that allow for such asceticism, the lack of emphasis on imaginative meditation on the life of Christ and his passion still presents something of an enigma. While the Western spiritual tradition does not lack such notions and spiritual writers who emphasize the type of spirituality the desert fathers put forward, the prevailing practice centers on imaginative and affective prayer and discursive mediation.  This may make the Evagrian spirituality that prevails in the Philokalia seem obscure and foreign.  Kallistos Ware writes: “Even though only a few pages are devoted to the works of Evagrios Pontus himself, the book as a whole makes constant use of his threefold classification of the spiritual way into the active life (praktiki), the contemplation of nature (physiki) and the contemplation of God (theologia).  It also repeats in many places Evagrios’s description of prayer as a ‘shedding of thoughts’, a laying aside of images and discursive thinking. ‘When you are praying,‘ says Evagrios, ‘do not shape within yourself any image of the Deity, and do not let your intellect be stamped with the impress of any form; but approach the Immaterial in an immaterial manner, and then you will understand.‘  

I mention all of this because it is fundamental to having a clear understanding of prayer and watchfulness as described in the writings of Hesychios that I have been considering in recent posts.  With the exception of a few rare instances, the ascetic struggle and the manner of praying that is part of that struggle, notably the practice of the Jesus prayer, the Philokalia presents a Evagrian spirituality that is ‘apophatic‘.  

The writers of the Philokalia, Hesychios among them, emphasize the interactions between thoughts, passions and sinful acts.  Understanding these interactions and the fathers’ use of such terms is imperative.  Before moving on to consider Hesychios’ teaching on controlling thoughts, it may be helpful to briefly consider a few definitions offered by Gregory of Sinai.  These few paragraphs give great insight into why the fathers place special emphasize on struggling with distracting thoughts.  

Gregory writes:

“Sinful acts provoke passions, the passions provoke distractive thoughts and distractive thoughts, provoke fantasies. The fragmented memory begets a multiplicity of ideas, forgetfulness, causes the fragmentation of the memory, ignorance leads to forgetfulness, and appetites are aroused by misdirected emotions, and misdirected emotions by committing sinful acts. A sinful act is provoked by a mindless desire for evil and a strong attachment to the senses and to sensory things” (Philokalia IV).

The Fathers of the Philokalia taught that sense factors can evoke the passions. The senses are mainly visual, but can be auditory, taste, touch and smell as well. In anticipation of many modern psychologists, the Fathers understood that cognition, memory and emotions scan also be triggered by such cues.

St. Gregory of Sinai again expresses these factors well:

“Distractive thoughts arise and are activated in the soul's intelligent faculty, violent passions in the incensive faculty, the memory of bestial appetites in the desiring faculty, imaginary forms in the mind and ideas in the conceptualizing faculty ... We are provoked to sin by such thoughts; the irruption of evil thoughts is like the current of a river, and when as a result of this we give our assent to sin, our heart is overwhelmed as though by a turbulent flood” (Philokalia IV).

The Fathers understood that the senses are activated by such distractive thoughts and so the battle must be waged there. Thus, St. Gregory continues:

“By the "deep mire" (Ps. 69:2) understand slimy sensual pleasure or the sludge of lechery, or the burden of material things. Weighed down by all this, the impassioned intellect casts itself into the depths of despair ... sin ... is named according to its external manifestation” (Philokalia IV).

Such thoughts and behavior can become deeply entrenched (habitual) and our only overcome by ascetic struggle, humility, prayer and the grace of God.  St. Nilus noted, "A practice leads to a habit, and habit takes root like second nature. It is difficult and painful to stir or transform a nature.”  Likewise,  St. Gregory of Sinai wrote, "The cause and origin of the passions is the misuse of things ... (and) expresses the bias of the will ... " (Philokalia IV).  

With these considerations in mind, perhaps we can begin to understand the firmness of Hesychios as discusses the kinds of watchfulness and why he wants us to be particularly attentive to these measures and practice them with diligence.  He writes:

“I shall now tell you in plain, straightforward language what I consider to be the types of watchfulness which gradually cleanse the intellect from impassioned thoughts.  In these times of spiritual warfare I have no wish to conceal beneath words whatever in this treatise may be of use, especially to more simple people.  As St. Paul puts it: ‘Pay attention, my child Timothy, to what you read.’ (1Tim 4:13).

“One type of watchfulness consists in closely scrutinizing every mental image or provocation; for only by means of a mental image can Satan fabricate an evil thought and insinuate this into the intellect in order to lead it astray.”

“A second type of watchfulness consist in freeing the heart from all thoughts, keeping it profoundly silent and still, and in praying.”

“A third type consists in continually and humbling calling upon the Lord Jesus Christ for help.”

“A forth type is always to have the thought of death in one’s mind.”

“These types of watchfulness, my child, act like doorkeepers and bar entry to evil thoughts.  Elsewhere, if God gives me words, I shall deal more fully with a further type which, along with others, is also effective: this is to fix one’s gaze on heaven and to pay no attention to anything material.”

“When we have to some extent cut off the causes of the passions, we should devote our time to spiritual contemplation; for if we fail to do this we shall easily revert to the fleshly passions, and so achieve nothing but the complete darkening of our intellect and its reversion to material things” (Philokalia I, pp. 164-165)

The ascetic struggle described here is great and constant, but its goal is not simply self mastery or freedom from thought or sinful passions.  There is a radical personal element involved in the discipline, emphasized in the practice of the Jesus prayer which directs our thoughts and our hearts to God.  We do not seek to cleanse the heart and the intellect (nous: the eye of the heart) for ourselves but for God.  Jesus warns against a failure to keep this in mind as does Hesychios in his final comment.  

“When an unclean spirit goes out of a man, he goes through dry places, seeking rest, and finds none. Then he says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’ And when he comes, he finds it empty, swept, and put in order.  Then he goes and takes with him seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter and dwell there; and the last state of that man is worse than the first. So shall it also be with this wicked generation.” (Matthew 12: 43-45)  

If we sweep and clean the house without having Christ coming to dwell in and be Master of that house, more demons will return and we will find ourselves in a worse state than when we began.