The Medicine of the Soul in the Writing of St. Isaac the Syrian

Synopsis of Tonight’s Group on The Ascetical Homilies of St. Isaac the Syrian Homily 5 paragraphs 8-11:

In this section of Homily Five, St. Isaac draws deeply from the ancient well of ascetical wisdom, weaving together the practical counsel of St. Ephraim with his own luminous vision of divine providence. His teaching moves with precision from the diagnosis of sin to the healing of the soul, from the vigilance of self-knowledge to the vision of God’s mercy revealed through trial.

St. Ephraim’s words set the tone: every spiritual illness must be treated by its proper remedy. One cannot overcome a vice through random struggle or general good intentions, but only by applying a medicine suited to the disease. Just as heat is not fought with more heat, so envy, pride, and wrath are not healed through self-will or argument, but through the contrary virtues: humility, patience, and mercy. For St. Isaac, this is the beginning of ascetic discernment. The wise man learns to recognize the first stirrings of passion, and “plucks it up while it is still small,” knowing that what begins as a passing thought can quickly become a tyrant ruling the soul. Negligence is the mother of bondage.

From this root teaching springs one of St. Isaac’s central themes: the blessedness of patient endurance. The one who can suffer wrong with joy, though he has the means to defend himself, has entered into the mystery of the Cross. To bear insult without resentment, to be accused unjustly and respond with humility—these, he says, are the highest forms of virtue, admired even by the angels. Such endurance is not weakness but divine strength, the quiet radiance of faith proven by trial. Here we find the echo of the Beatitudes and of the Apostle’s words, “When I am weak, then I am strong.”

St. Isaac then warns against a subtler danger: self-confidence. “Do not believe yourself to be strong until you are tempted and find yourself superior to change.” Virtue untested is unproven. To imagine oneself firm before temptation is to invite a fall, for pride blinds the soul to its own frailty. True strength is born only from humility, the knowledge of one’s dependence upon God. Likewise, knowledge itself can become a snare when it is not rooted in meekness. A “meek tongue” and “sweet lips” reveal a heart governed by peace rather than pride. Those who do not boast of their struggles or their gifts are preserved from shame, while those who glory in their works are permitted to stumble, that humility may be learned through experience.

The culmination of this passage is the vision of divine providence, which St. Isaac presents not as an abstract doctrine but as an experience granted to the purified heart. God’s care, he says, surrounds all, yet it is seen only by those who have cleansed themselves of sin and fixed their gaze upon Him. In times of trial, when the soul stands for the truth, this providence becomes radiant and tangible—as though seen with bodily eyes. God reveals Himself most clearly in suffering, granting His servants courage and consolation. As He strengthened Jacob, Joshua, the Three Youths, and Peter, so too He anoints all who endure affliction for His sake.

In these paragraphs, St. Isaac sketches the entire map of the ascetical path. The soul begins with vigilance, pulling up the roots of passion before they grow. It advances through endurance, learning the joy hidden in unjust suffering. It is tested in humility, discovering that self-reliance is the greatest enemy. And finally, it arrives at the vision of providence, seeing that all things—even trials and delays—are instruments of divine love.

The warfare is inward, but the victory is divine. The heart that ceases to rely on itself learns to rest in God, and the eyes once blinded by passion come to behold His mercy shining through every storm. This is the medicine of the soul and the peace of those who have learned the wisdom of the Cross.

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

St. Isaac the Syrian - the measure for man, for life and art and action

In St. Isaac the Syrian, I have encountered someone like no other.  Even among the Fathers, East and West, whom I have engaged over these past thirty years, Isaac stands alone; which admittedly is to say a lot. When I first picked up his Ascetical Homilies and heard them described thus: "If all the writings of the desert fathers which teach us concerning watchfulness and prayer were lost and the writings of Abba Isaac the Syrian alone survived, they would suffice to teach one from the beginning to end concerning the life of stillness and prayer. They are the Alpha and Omega of the life of watchfulness and interior prayer, and alone suffice to guide one from his first steps to perfection," I was certainly intrigued but thought it simply to be hyperbole.  Of all the the Fathers we have studied in groups at the Oratory, St. Isaac (unfamiliar in name and stature) garnered the least amount of interest; especially in comparison to the somewhat better known Cassian and Climacus.  His style of writing was certainly different from the others; not Conferences or Steps but rather Homilies.  They were exhortative, meant to set the heart afire for the love of God; not simply to be read or studied but to be received as a calling as sure and as strong as the Lord's "Follow Me".  As true homilies, they arose from a heart that had experienced that call and had found his life turned upside down; only then to discover true Life.  

After a year passed, with the homilies being read aloud and verbatim in our small group, the image of St. Isaac became clearer and with it his writings more and more compelling.  The thought would echo following each group that "after hearing this there was no going back to looking at one's life as before."  To do so one would have to live in complete denial - would have to silence the conscience. Uneasiness with oneself and one's life is the necessary prelude to conversion. St. Isaac at every turn anticipates such unease and resistance, expecting that it would arise and gently yet persistently beckons the listener to move ever forward.  Now the words of another describing St. Isaac no longer seemed hyperbolic: "Isaac is the mirror. There you will behold yourself. The mirror is so that we may see if we have any shortcoming, any smudge on our face, in order to remove it, to cleanse ourselves..... In Abba Isaac you will behold your thoughts, what they are thinking. Your feet, where they are going. Your eyes, if they have light and see. There you will find many sure and unerring ways in order to be helped." 

Indeed, St. Isaac the Syrian was like no other.  However, it was in the reflections of Archimandrite Vasileios, Abbot of Iveron Monastery on Mount Athos, that I finally found one who captured the full extent of the extraordinary nature of the man, the Saint, I have come to revere beyond all expectation.  Here was one through whom the hitherto unknown and untouched was revealed.   

"The best is of everything the measure."  Man is the measure - the holy person.  And St. Isaac is a measure for man, for life and art and action.  

Look at where he is!  The way he lives!  The way he writes!  What poetry, what philosophy, what psychology he produces!  Look at the way he acts, the way he keeps silence, the way he moves and the way he remains still!  Is it possible to judge people by the yardstick of St. Isaac?  Is he not a great man, supremely great, unique?  Is it not unfair or impertinent to compare everyone else - ordinary people like us - with figures of this stature?  I would have no hesitation in answering: NO.  If he were someone who had been very active in a particular field, or who had some altogether exceptional natural gifts by which he astonished all mankind, then it would not be right to take him as a yardstick to judge and compare other people.  But something different is goin on here: this Abba is supremely great and supremely human.  He is at once grand and affable.  In his presence, the great feel insignificant and the small take courage and feel able to function.

He does not flatter the one, nor does he despise the other.  He is not ignorant of anyone's sufferings, their propensities or sorrows.  He himself is a complete whole.  A mature fruit of the Spirit,  which shows its maturity by its color, aroma, softness and taste.

St. Isaac the Syrian is humane, humble. He understands, he has a deep knowledge of the weaknesses of the suffering world. He is not some stern judge or merciless inquisitor. He knows all about our weaknesses and our poverty; he shares in our nature and - at the same time - partakes in the joy and consolation of the age to come. 

He does not argue with anyone. He provides opportunities and waits. He speaks the truths and leaves it to work within us. 

Great as he is, he respects those who are small, who are humble. He respects their struggles and their confessions, even more than they themselves do, given that they all live to a greater or lesser extent within the realm of corruption, rivalry, jealousy, and of the effort to go beyond all this. 

The Abba does not tell you, by his life and by his writings, “Abandon your struggle”.  He does not reject your efforts. He does not deny you the joy that comes from them. He wants to liberate you from the cycle of corruption: to break down the dam that blocks your progress, and push you out onto the fathomless waters of the mystery of life. 

He can see that you are closing yourself up. You imprison your inner person which thirsts for freedom. You are stymieing your development, narrowing the horizons of your life, depriving yourself of the openings towards new expansion- the deaths and resurrections - which dignify man and the endless and eternal grace that come to you. 

As you follow St. Isaac faithfully, you go deeper into man. And every person enters into you. All together you go forward as brothers towards the new creation; you are able to breathe, in the still air of unfettered freedom. Together you undergo increase without end and ceaseless extension, even as you are humbled, as you “contract”, and you sacrifice yourselves for what is greatest. 

It is possible, however, for man to be grafted into an everlasting tree. He can become a “branch of the vine of life“. His ascesis can be linked with another ascesis. He can be baptized in his entirety. He can offer himself, he can die, as true lovers of Truth seek to do. And as he dies and is buried with Jesus in His death, he can be raised up with Him into a new life. 

The journey, the extension, the ascent does not stop at some point. You keep on advancing. You divest yourself of the desire to project yourself. You abandon defensiveness. Everything does you good. You are concerned with something else. You avoid things human, and you find human beings. You attain to silence. And your words and your life speak in a different way. 

If you are demanding in your life, you can come into contact with St. Isaac. He will initiate you into hidden mysteries. He will meet you where you yourself stop. He will take you by the hand when you feel you cannot go any higher. He will help you make progress along your own path. He will reveal to you - you will see and experience yourself - that kingdom of God which is to come is given to human beings even from today. 

And St. Isaac remains a criterion and a measure for this life and the next, for your conduct, for action and contemplation, for dealing with every happiness or disaster, for concealing and revealing, for silence and speech. 

When you come back to St. Isaac after some experience, after coming into contact with a different logic, a different character, ethos or even speech, the impression is always the same: at every point, in every subject - he gets full marks. There is no other yardstick more stable, so as to give you a genuine standard for judging everything: human behavior, philosophy of life, use of time, progress from the temporary to the eternal, strictness and leniency. . . 

How is it that he does not have a single loose phrase!  There is not a single appearance he makes, a way he deals with something, the nature of criticism, that would not leave you in awe!  Here we have the offspring of a good and blessed hour. A fruit that is ripe, that attracts and satisfies every hunger. An understanding that embraces all the world. A weeping that softens the heart. A figure that inspires every character. A blessing that extends to every occupation and path that a person might choose to take: the musician finds harmony. The philosopher, wisdom. The anthropologist and psychiatrist, the fullness of their science. The revolutionary finds strength. The hesychast, guidance. The old person, understanding and companionship. The young person, wind for his sails to adventure onto the most open and stormy of seas and even beyond. The father, a teacher in how to behave to his children. The husband, guidance in living with his wife. The mother, infinite love, delicacy and tenderness. Someone on the point of death finds consolation. Someone embroiled in difficulties finds a way out. The prisoner serving life finds absolute freedom of movement and living. The patient incurably sick finds divine visitation and is taken up, with his whole body, into a place, a realm and a way of life where everything is transformed into an outpouring of tears of gratitude. 

He is in a place where no one else is. And yet he finds everyone, in harmony. And everyone unfailingly regards him as their own person, the only one who understands them with delicacy and tact. He heals their passions, he gives them courage, he “slaughters” them with his utter compassion. 

Suppose some person or people fell down dead, wounded by something that other people said or did, albeit unintentionally: this Abba forgives things that are unforgivable to most people.  He is familiar with the inconceivable.  He soothes the pain of murderers.  He raises up the life of those who have been killed.  He gives light to the blind.  He gives feet to the lame and makes hardened criminals act like children, innocent, guileless and unformed.

How does this happen?  It was a gift bestowed on him because he received directly the blessing of the whole Godhead in the Trinity, because the auspicious time came when, through humility, he offered everything forever to the One and Only.  And the One gave him the eternity of blessing in all his being for evermore.

It seems that when he was born, he was baptized.  He was baptized indeed into the death of Jesus.  And he pursued a way of life that surpasses life and death.

And when he died, this man full of holiness and above measure, he himself passed into life in its completeness in a different manner.  You do not know whether his presence was more vivid when he was living this temporary life, or whether his help and support for all is more active now that he has left history and his life in the flesh - now that, in perceptible terms, he has gone away from us all.

His life has been extended through death.  His intellect has been illumined through Grace; his body is filled with the life that transcends the whole world.  He has discovered a different basis for support; a different manner of conduct; a different way of perceiving assurance; a different love of truth; a different Truth - an incomprehensible and ineffable truth, which is identified with mercy.  And this state, this logic, this ethos, this freedom, this delicacy, this undaunted fearlessness, have shaped and formed his entire being, his way of life and his existence.

So in him "before" and "after" are not separated.  The same applies to strictness and leniency; to speech and silence, immobility and movement, life and death, truth and love, light and darkness, struggle and stillness.  This is because in his entirety, with the whole body of his existence, he has attained to a state above existence.  He has advanced to the point where everything ceases: activity, struggle, prayer, freedom.  Everything that he loved, that he aimed for and achieved, has been superseded.  It has all passed into another realm and way of  life, one that is strange, inaccessible to man.  And that which is inaccessible and unattainable - for man - has taken St. Isaac himself, with all his wares, to that place.

He vanished, was lost.  And he found himself in a different manner, in perpetuity; he was there even for those who had not been looking for him, who had not known him, who had never be interested in his life, his words, and his interests.  

Even if many people were not interested, St. Isaac was interested.  And because he wore himself out, shared himself, broke himself to pieces, he found himself in a different way; he was given a self by the One and Only.

And now, it is this self risen from the dead, found after it was lost, the self over which "death has no more dominion", that he has scattered and continues to scatter, like a blessing of charity and a wealth of understanding for all.  From no one does he ask anything for himself, wishing only for others to act freely, hoping in Christ Jesus.  And for them to know that if at some time they find themselves at a point where there road is ending, their daylight is fading, where loneliness overwhelms them . . . then they should not go to pieces.  They should be patient for a while.  They should wait.  And a door will open; an open road will stretch before them; light that knows no evening will rise; and the cosmic chaos which through loneliness pierced their being will be filled with a presence of love, of charity.  Something unrevealed and unknown to them will be revealed.

They will hear things unheard, they will touch things intangible.  They will be at ease.  And they themselves will go on in a different way, as different people, continuing their endless journey which is nothing other than He who is the most holy Passover and endless extension.

Archimandrite Vasileios

Abbot of Iveron Monastery, Mount Athos

New Podcast: Ascetical Homilies of St. Isaac the Syrian Homily Four Part II

While they lived, they were dead

At the end of Homily Two of his Ascetical Homilies, St. Isaac the Syrian offers what I consider a unique list of the passions and a description of their effects.  In them we are able to easily see how prevalent they are in many situations and relationships and through their presence or absence we are able to gauge in how many parts of the "world" (the passions as an aggregate) we are alive and in how many we are dead.  They are a very practical guide and offer a good means of personal examination.  

Although all are worthy of thorough consideration.  I shall give a few attention here.   "Human glory, which is the cause of resentment": as we cling to an exalted image of ourselves, anyone or anything that diminishes that image in our eyes or the eyes of others becomes the focus of resentment.  When we are made fun of even in jest our egos become inflamed and others become the object of our ire or fierce silence.  "The wielding of power": This of course can be the search for and use of material and physical power, but more frequently it is used as a means of seeking a position of emotional power within relationships.  We seek to keep the upper hand so as to control or manipulate the actions or feelings of another.  Finally, "fear for the body":  the modern age has made us obsessed with diet and exercise and personal health.  For this reason we often eschew asceticism for fear that we will diminish our capacities in some fashion and not operate at optimal levels.  We pamper ourselves in a cowardly fashion, having more concern for the body than the soul.  We resist being humbled in mind and body through fasting and vigils, even though these are the very means necessary for overcoming the passions.

The passions are portions of the course of the world's onward flow; and where the passions cease, there the world's onward flow stands still.  These are the passions: love of wealth; gathering objects of any kind; bodily pleasure, from which comes the passion of carnal intercourse; love of esteem, from which springs envy; the wielding of power; pride in the trappings of authority; stateliness and pomposity; human glory, which is the cause of resentment; fear for the body.  Wherever these have halted in their course, there, in part, to the extent that the passions are inactive, the world fails from its constitution and remains inactive.  Thus it was with each of the saints, that while they lived, they were dead. For living in the body, they lived not according to the flesh.  Examine in which of these passions you are alive, and then you will know in how many parts you are alive to the world, and in how many you are dead.

St. Isaac the Syrian

Filling the Void: Directionless Modern Spiritualities

Discussions about the spiritual life in modern times rarely seem to give attention to purity of mind and heart.  We expose ourselves indiscriminately to a plethora of distractions - each strengthen the grip of the passions upon us.  And even when attention is given to the subject it is typically amorphous - lacking the clarity and structure of the Fathers' thought.  Yet without such attention given to the interior life men and women are left to wander aimlessly - seeking to fill the void with various popular spiritual practices but never coming to know the healing needed and desired.  

St. Isaac the Syrian in the following brief summary captures the essence of the struggle: If the mind is made pure through guarding the senses through ascetical practices like fasting, vigils and the study of scriptures, one can begin to know a surface level purity - the mind is cleansed of former thoughts and the imagination and memory are gradually made whole.  Such purity, he warns, may be short lived if due diligence is not maintained.  The mind will be quickly soiled again.  As the author of Proverbs writes: "As a dog returns to his vomit, so the sinner returns to his sin."

The purification of the heart, Isaac goes on to explain, only comes through affliction - where attraction to the things of the world is lost and one becomes, as it were, dead to all thing or as St. Paul wrote: "It is no longer I who live I, but Christ who lives within me."  One puts on the mind of Christ.  Few are willing to walk this narrow and difficult path or have the stomach to endure the dreadful conflicts and trials that produce such freedom.  When one clings only to God and his will, the assaults of the world endanger but a little.  

The path put forward seems so simple but it is avoided and ignored but those ruled by their passions and desires for the things of the world.  May God give us the eyes to see and the ears to hear. . .  .  


Purity of mind is one thing, and purity of heart is another, just as a limb differs from the whole body.  Now the mind is one of the senses of the soul, but the heart is what contains and holds the inner senses: it is the sense of senses, that is, their root; but if the root is holy, then the branches are holy.  It is evident, therefore, that if the heart is purified, all the senses are made pure.  Now if the mind, on the one hand, is a little diligent in reading the divine scriptures and toils a little in fasting, vigil, and stillness, it will forget its former activity and will become pure, as long as it abstains from alien concerns.  Even so its purity will not be permanent, for just as it is quickly cleansed, so too it is quickly soiled.

But the heart, on the other hand, is only made pure by many affliction, deprivations, separation from all fellowship with the world, and deadness to all things.  Once it is purified, however, its purity is not soiled by little things, nor is it dismayed by great and open conflicts (I mean dreadful ones), inasmuch as it has acquired, as it were, a strong stomach capable of quickly digesting all the food that is indigestible to those who are weak.  For so it is said among the physicians, that all meats difficult to digest, but it produces great strength in healthy bodies when a strong stomach takes it.

Even so, any purity that comes quickly, with little time and slight labor, is also quickly lost and defiled.  But the purity that comes through many afflictions and is acquired over a long period of time in the soul's superior part is not endangered by any moderate assault.

Do we understand the worth of our souls?

If we understood the value of our souls and could see the preciousness of the gifts that God has given us we would labor to deepen and preserve them.  No amount of ascetic labor would, so long as suited to our station in life, seem excessive or beyond our strength.  Sorsky exhorts us not to make asceticism and the spiritual disciplines something of the past and not necessary for ourselves.  We have received the same call to holiness.  The only thing that makes it impossible is the lack of a serious desire to repent. 

We can at least be conscious of the folly that engrosses us, of how we throw away our talents in the pursuit of material things as we give ourselves over to cares and anxieties that are harmful for our souls.  And we regard all such pursuit as good and praiseworthy!  But woe to us!  We do not understand the worth of our souls.  We do not understand that we have not been called to live such an evil life, as St. Isaac says.  Woe to us if we think our life in this world - its sufferings, its joys, its rest - have importance for us!  Woe to us if by the life of our soul, so weighted down by laziness, worldly curiosity, and lack of concern, we should be convinced that the style of life that was proper to that lived by the ancient saints is no longer necessary for us nor is it possible for us to live such ascetical exploits.  No, this cannot be so, in no way!  Such practices are not possible only for those who are immersed by self-indulging passions because of their own free will who do not seriously desire to repent, namely, to truly come under the guidance of the divine Holy Spirit, but who are given over to useless, worldly cares.

Nil Sorsky 

Forged in the Fire of Ascetic Struggle

The purgative stage pertains to those newly engaged in spiritual warfare. It is characterized by the rejection of the materialistic self, liberation from material evil, and investiture with the regenerate self, renewed by the Holy Spirit (Colossians 3:10). It involves hatred of materiality, the attenuation of the flesh, the avoidance of whatever incites the mind to passion, repentance for sins committed, the dissolving with tears of the bitter sediment left by sin, the regulation of our life according to the generosity of the Spirit, and the cleansing through compunction of the inside of the cup (Matthew 23:26)—the intellect—from every defilement of flesh and spirit (2 Corinthians 7:1), so that it can then be filled with the wine of the Logos that gladdens the heart of the purified (Psalm 104:15), and can be brought to the King of the celestial powers for him to taste. Its final goal is that we should be forged in the fire of ascetic struggle, scouring off the rust of sin, and steeled and tempered in the water of compunction, so that swordlike we may effectively cut off the passions and the demons. Reaching this point through long ascetic struggle, we quench the fire within us, muzzle the brutelike passions, become strong in the Spirit instead of weak (Hebrews 11:33–34), and like another Job conquer the tempter through our patient endurance.

Nikitas Stithatos

Chastening the Body to Glorify the Nous

‎"You O struggler and imitator of Christ's suffering, fight within yourself, that you may be deemed worthy of tasting His glory. For if we suffer with Him, then we are glorified with Him. The nous is not glorified with Jesus, if the body does not suffer with Christ. He therefore who disdains human glory is deemed worthy of the glory of God and his body is glorified with his soul."  (St. Isaac the Syrian)

The Ascetic Heart

The Ascetic Heart: This piece written by an unnamed writer beautifully reflects upon what has been lost among Christians, especially in the West. The Spiritual life involves the whole self if it is a matter of true love. While we are often willing to busy ourselves with so many things in the world and to engage in physical exercise, we tend to fail to invest ourselves fully in the most important relationship of all and to do the very things necessary in order to offer ourselves to Christ with a pure and undivided heart. The writings of the Philokalia understand that ascesis expresses a love that tries to restore the darkened image of God in man to its original beauty through grace and personal effort.  The fathers heeded St. Paul's call to "train yourself to be godly.  For while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come" (1 Tim. 4:7-8). 

http://www.monachos.net/content/monasticism/monastic-spirituality/96-ascetic-reflections-on-the-way-of-self-sacrifice

Purity of Heart in the Writings of the Philokalia

What is the purpose of the asceticism and repentance that have been described in the previous posts?  Again, it is a question the Fathers often asked of themselves, realizing how easy it is to make these practices ends rather the means to an end.  As with so many things in life we can be investing a lot of energy, working very hard but lose sight of where we are heading or what we are seeking.  In this the spiritual life (as we often make it) can become, strangely enough, analogous to an infatuation.  The word infatuation comes from in-fatuous which means “false light”.  Following a false light is the experience often had by those traveling in the desert at night.  They believe they see a light in the distance and so set out to reach it and find warmth and comfort for themselves.  However, it is actually an optical illusion and more often than not they would travel a great distance, expending much effort, only to realize that what promised light and warmth was nowhere to be found.  

Thus, knowing what our immediate purpose and ultimate end are in the spiritual life is essential and there is no better place to begin than with those who walked the path, the “narrow way,” before us.  In particular, there is a notable conversation on this very subject in the Philokalia.  John Cassian and his fellow monk and friend Germanus travelled from Gaul to Egypt in the 4th century to live with the Eastern monks in the Nile delta in order to bring back the wisdom of the Hesychast tradition to the West.  For nearly 20 years they lived with the monks and hermits in order to observe their way of life and learn from their collective wisdom.  

In the first volume of the Philokalia we find Cassian and Germanus engaged in a discussion with Abba Moses who puts this question to them:

“‘You have given up your country, your families, everything worldly in order to embrace a life in a foreign land among rude and uncultured people like us.  Tell, what was your purpose and what goal did you set before yourselves in doing all this?’  We replied: ‘We did it for the kingdom of heaven.’  In response Abba Moses said: ‘As for the goal, you have answered well; but what is the purpose which we set before us and which we pursue unwaveringly so as to reach the kingdom of heaven?  This you have not told me.’  When we confessed that we did not know, the old man replied: ‘The goal of our profession, as we have said, is the kingdom of God.  Its immediate purpose, however, is purity of heart, for without this we cannot reach our goal.  We should therefore always have this purpose in mind; and, should it ever happen that for a short time our heart turns aside from the direct path, we must bring it back again at once, guiding our lives with reference to our purpose as if it were a carpenter’s rule. . . .If we forget this purpose we cannot avoid frequently stumbling and losing our way, for we will be walking in the dark and straying from the proper path’” (Philokalia, Vol. 1, 95).

Yet, what is this purity of heart of which Abba Moses speaks?  Throughout the Philokalia it is described in various ways but most often the Fathers speak of purity as having God at the center of all of our thoughts, words and actions - having God as our one true desire, our beginning and end.  Anthony Coniaris captures this with great clarity and simplicity: 

“Purity of heart is not, first and foremost, a matter of avoiding all sorts of bad things; it is more so, desiring one supreme good above all.  It is to want one thing, to focus our whole life on that one thing.  What is that one thing?  It is to know God, love HIm, and serve Him with all our mind, heart and soul and strength.  When you are pure of heart, you place all your focus on what God wants of you.  You want to be godly, a person of integrity.  Your deepest desire is for God, not for the approval of people.  Thus, purity of heart means loving all people and having a single supreme purpose and direction, not being double minded and unstable (James 1:8).  Such purity or singleness of heart leads  to illumination which, in turn, leads to glorification and union with God” (Coniaris, “A Beginner’s Introduction to the Philokalia”, 122-123).  

Here we begin to see why purity of heart is so important, why it is the purpose of our asceticism, and something to which we must be entirely and exclusively consecrated.  Alphonse and Rachel Goettmann in their work “Prayer of Jesus, Prayer of the Heart” express it ever so pointedly: 

“To be on the way with a divided will, a small fraction of our energy and a mental hesitation, leads nowhere!  We must break radically with our habits, with our way of being and introduce into ourselves - through a decisive act which shakes our whole nature - a new idea force, a consecration of our energies to Jesus Christ so complete that to live from Him becomes for our heart the only desire, and for our will the only activity in all that we live and do. . . .all life becomes a single adoration.  Behind everything, there is the presence: we must feel it always and everywhere, awaken to its constant, intimate, enveloping nearness, intensely perceive it and commune with it in every moment.  To turn all our emotions toward the presence of Christ is the most intense way of purification for the heart.  Sooner or later ‘the pure in heart will see God,’ will feel Him, touch Him, hear Him, smell Him” (155-156).  

Indeed, the more we are purified the more we shall see.  This is captured in exquisite fashion by St. Maximus the Confessor who wrote in the 7th century: 

“If, according to the words of the Divine Apostle, Christ dwells in our hearts by faith and in Him ‘are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge’, then in our hearts are to be found all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.  And they (these treasures) are revealed to the heart according to the measure of purification of each person by the commandments.  This is the ‘treasure hid in a field’ of your heart, which you have not yet found because of your inaction.  For if you had found it, you would have sold all that you had and bought that field.  But you have abandoned that field and work nearby, where there is nothing but thorns and thistles.  Therefore, the Savior says, ‘Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.’  They will see Him and the treasures that are in Him, when they purify themselves by love and self-mastery; the more they are purified, the more (of God) will they see.”  

Ultimately, the importance of purity of heart lies in our destiny.  “The more of God’s love and mercy we receive, the more we commit ourselves to Him, the more we love Him and serve Him, the more we shall be able to experience His kingdom within us, and the better prepared will our eyes be for the brilliance of heaven” (Coniaris, 132). 

Understanding the Passions according to the Philokalia: Healing of the Soul and through the Science of the Fathers

Now that we have spoken a bit about asceticism and its goal, theosis or deification, it is appropriate I think to address the specifics of that path of conversion and transformation.  What is it that we must do on our part and with the grace of God on the path of return - to restore the image that has been sullied by our sin and to open ourselves up to the gift of becoming partakers of the divine nature made possible through Christ?  

Alphonse and Rachel Goettmann, in their wonderful book “Prayer of Jesus, Prayer of the Heart” describe this path beautifully; with an understanding arising from and obviously rooted in personal experience. It is perhaps the clearest description that I have come across and since the book is out of print I offer you the following lengthy excerpt:

“Rediscovering that which unifies us, rediscovering our first innocence leads us to become one with God to such an extent that there is no longer the consciousness within us of a differentiated self, distinct from God.  All that we know then is love, nothing else: the unique desire for the unique desired One which makes life a communion of love with the Creator and with all that He endlessly creates at each moment.

The opposite is our propulsion toward the exterior which kindles the multiplicity of desires and makes of life only hatred and division: ‘We devour ourselves reciprocally like serpents.  The communion of love is replaced by the hidden fear of death, and this death,’ says Maximus the Confessor, ‘is the cause of our turning love into destructive passions.’  The self is so closed in upon itself by this metaphysical anguish that the other, including God, is always, even unconsciously, a potential enemy. 

In a person whose spirit is cut off from God, the soul enters into a radical change of perspective and passes into a state of dualism.  Instead of living through God, of seeing in His light and with His eyes, the soul sees and lives through the self in an autonomous way.  This is a false self, nonbeing, the empirical existence where each act of affirmation of the self increases the dualistic tension between the self and God, between the self and others.  And as the self depends upon things to affirm it, the ditch never ceases to be dug and God Himself becomes an antagonistic and hostile being, a rival.  Little by little all relationships are falsified: with oneself, with others, with God, with the whole of creation.  This ontological denaturation brings to life in us a sort of predisposition to bad faith, where we constantly try to make things other than what they are, so that they serve our appetite for pleasure and power and our arbitrary impulses in every moment.  This is the ‘noisy tumult of the passions’ according to the patristic expression . . . 

Here is the beginning of decay.  Our existence is fractured and we plunge into internal contradictions that can only make us suffer.  A person who persists in walking with a broken leg will only suffer; and every desire comes out of this deep fracture which we carry within and which inevitably brings us to tragedy.  The great significance of true asceticism is found here: in discerning the motives behind our way of being and acting.

Where does my desire come from and where is it going?  That is the ground of asceticism, its primary matter, and the very place of our penitence.  Asceticism is a guardian over every interior and exterior movement.  Nothing is possible - no accomplishment, no happiness, no peace - as long as desire is turned in upon itself, egocentric and greedy!  There is no spiritual way or prayer which can be maintained without battling these passionate desires” (Goettmann, “Prayer of Jesus, Prayer of the Heart,” 120-121).

The Desert Fathers understood the word “passion” to mean all the egocentric desires through which the demon seeks to capture human beings.  These we must know along with their most subtle workings within us if we are to fully engage in the spiritual battle that confronts us.  Such knowledge and the hard won skill of recognizing evil in order to avoid it is so valuable that St. Isaac the Syrian stated: “He who sees his sin is greater than he who resurrects the dead.”  It is through this interior work that the passions are not destroyed but have their energy redirected and reordered toward God - to eternal Life.

The Goettmann’s aptly describe this purification of the passions as a kind of “‘homemade psychoanalysis,’ a therapy which attacks the roots of the illnesses of our being, not only to heal us on a human level, but to heal us for our union with God” (Ibid., 122).  Faith is the point of departure for the Desert Fathers from modern psychology; the goal is to share in the life and intimacy of the Holy Trinity and the Fathers see the full flowering of the personality not simply as a function of human needs and potentials.

This is exactly the approach to and understanding of the writings of the Fathers of the Philokalia presented by Hierotheos Vlachos in his masterful work “Orthodox Psychotherapy: the Science of the Fathers.”  He presents us with much different understanding of the word "Psychotherapy" than we often have in mind.

Psyche, Vlachos reminds us, comes from the Greek and means "soul".  In the Hebrew and Christian tradition the soul is the essence of one's existence.  It represents the whole living being of an individual person.  The soul in this sense is manifested through the body, the mind and other facets of the one's being.  When we speak of "Psychotherapy" then we mean the healing of one's soul.

There are great differences then between modern psychotherapy and Christian psychotherapy.  Contemporary psychotherapy focuses more on the mental and emotional dimensions of a person, thoughts, emotions and feelings; in particular by addressing the disorder and pathology that one may be experiencing in these dimensions.  But most modern psychotherapy does not see itself as facilitating growth of person in their relationship with God; that is, in the realization and expression of divine truth.  It hopes certainly to encourage more efficient living and functioning in the world.  And yet, its values and intentions often reflect those that prevail in the culture at the given time.  For example, modern psychotherapy often seeks to bolster one's capacity to gratify needs and desire and to achieve a sense of autonomous mastery over self and circumstance; that is, self-realization and self-fulfillment.

Christian Psychotherapy seeks liberation from disordered attachments and self-giving surrender to the power and will of God.  The manner in which personal growth and healing take place depend not on self-mastery but upon the grace of God.  The true healer, the Physician, is Jesus.  The root of our illness, the disorder and lack of integration we experience, our sickness of soul, comes from sin.  It is this we seek to remedy in and through our relationship with Jesus Christ (see “Orthodox Psychotherapy, pp 97-118).     

It has been said that the Desert Fathers have provided us with a map of the soul: 

“The passions and temptations which must inevitably beset any Christian were unearthed and described with almost scientific precision.  Pride, vainglory, lust - each passion was isolated and catalogued.  This ‘map’ of the Christian soul was then passed on from one generation of ascetics to another, each generation profiting from the discoveries of the previous ones.  Not only were the passions and temptations which afflict the soul unearthed, however, but a ‘system’ was developed to combat them.  This system was later to become know as ‘hesychasm’ or ‘prayer of the heart’” (Coniaris, “Philokalia: Bible of Orthodox Spirituality”, 148-149).

In future posts, we will consider how the Fathers of the Philokalia came to categorize the principle vices that give rise to these passions, how they manifest themselves and how they are remedied.  The Fathers had no illusions about human nature, its woundedness and through the insights born from their spiritual life we stand to gain a deeper understanding of the human person and the truth that peace of soul can be bought only at the price of a long struggle.