Joyful Sorrow: Compunction and the Gift of Tears in the Philokalia

“Blessed are they that mourn,” our Lord said in the second Beatitude.  But mourn, weep, for what?  Life certainly is filled with its sorrows and losses and often we may be moved to tears.  Yet, how are we to understand our Lord’s teaching and the blessing that comes to those who weep?

This is a question that the Fathers of the Philokalia often asked and through them we discover that such mourning is a spiritual gift and the fruit of true repentance.  In the Christian East, the Greek word for such sorrow is Penthos.  While there is no English equivalent for the word, we can define it as “joyful sorrow”: a sorrow that arises from a broken and contrite heart, an inner sorrow for the sins that one has committed.  However, such tears of compunction, the Fathers tell us, lead to a true and abiding joy.  “‘Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning,’ says the psalmist. ‘These tears,’ writes St. John Chrysostom, ‘do not bring sorrow; they bring more joy than all the laughter of the world can gain for you.’ ‘Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting,’ says the psalmist (126:5).  Archim. Sophrony writes, ‘Stemming originally from bitter repentance, weeping develops into tears of rapture with Divine love.  And this is a sign that our prayer is heard and through its action we are led into new imperishable life’” (Coniaris, “Philokalia: Bible of Orthodox Spirituality”, 175).

Such tears of compunction are a gift of God, the fruit of baptismal grace and the renewal of our baptism.  St. John Climacus wrote: “God in His love for mankind gave us tears. . . If God in His mercy had not granted to men this second baptism, then few indeed would be saved. . . When our soul departs from this life, we shall not be accused because we have not worked miracles . . .but we shall all certainly have to account to God because we have not wept unceasingly for our sins.”  

This view of the importance of tears may seem paradoxical, scandalous or simply unnecessary to many in our day.  Yet, such tears are merely the fruit of the grace already acquired in baptism and have been described as “the infallible sign that the heart has been overwhelmed by the love of God . . . These charismatic tears, which are the consummation of repentance are at the same time the first fruits of infinite joy: ‘Blessed are ye that weep now: for ye shall laugh.’  Tears purify our nature, for repentance is not merely our effort, our anguish, but it is also the resplendent gift of the Holy Spirit, penetrating and transforming our hearts” (Ibid., 173).  

Obsessive guilt or scrupulosity only leads to hopelessness and despair, but true compunction and the cleansing tears that accompany it are a true gift of God meant to lead us back to Him and the embrace of His love.  Indeed it has been described as the most precious thing on earth:

“There is an old legend according to which God said to one of His angels: ‘Go down to earth and bring back the most precious thing in the world.’  One angel brought a drop of blood back from a person who had sacrificed his life to save another: God said, ‘Indeed, O Angel, this is precious in my sight, but it is not the most precious thing in the world.’  Another angel caught the last breath of a nurse who died from a dread disease she contracted in nursing others to health.  God smiled at the angel and said, “Indeed, O Angel, sacrifice in behalf of others is very precious in my sight, but it is not the most precious thing in the world.’  Finally one angel captured and brought a small vial containing the tear of a sinner who had repented and returned to God.  God beamed upon the angel as He said: “Indeed, O Angel, you have brought me the most precious thing in the world - the tear of repentance which opens the gates in heaven.”

Such is what we hear from the Our Lord Himself when he taught, “there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance.”  God secretly brings joy and consolation to those who in their heart of hearts are repentant and weep for their sins and all of heaven itself rejoices over the return of even one who was lost. 

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.

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). 

"Be Still and Know that I am God": St. Gregory of Sinai on Prayer

In a culture that thrives upon and craves constant stimulation of the senses and imagination, the spirituality of the Christian East presents the Western mind (as noted in a previous post) with something of an enigma.  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 spirituality that is “apophatic”.  While it allows to a certain extent a place for the feelings and for the meditation on things Divine through the liturgy and praying the psalms, the spirituality of the Philokalia and of St. Gregory of Sinai whose work “On Prayer” we will be considering in this post, avoids any trace of sentimental emotionalism and carefully warns against the ever-present danger of delusion by false visions of light and of indiscriminately trusting one’s own judgment in regards to spiritual realities.  “In the West, there is a strong tradition of using images (kataphatic prayer), as well as imageless (apophatic) prayer.  In the East, however, and especially in the Athonite spirituality contained in the Philokalia, the use of images is strongly discouraged. . . .Imageless prayer is seen as superior to the use of images in prayer and as necessary to unceasing prayer” and to defeat the devil’s attempt to distract us from the pure and inner prayer of the heart.  This can often be challenging for those in the West who are given to understand that words and images are integral to the practice of prayer.  The stilling and purifying of the intellect (nous), that is the eye of heart, is essential in the Philokalic tradition.  “Unceasing prayer is an inner activity of the intellect, and the lack of outward expression does not mean that it has ceased.”  Rather, the goal is to open the heart fully and completely to the indwelling presence of Christ: “The aim of the Jesus Prayer, as of all prayer, is to reveal in a conscious and dynamically active way ‘the energy of the Holy Spirit, which we have already received in baptism.’  Through the invocation of the Holy Name, we are enabled to pass from the stage when baptismal grace is present in our hearts merely in a hidden and unconscious manner, to the point of full awareness at which we experience the activity of this grace directly and consciously.”  

As we shall see in the writings of St. Gregory, this is a labor of love that requires patience, endurance, humility and, most of all, the grace of God. 

“No one can master the intellect (nous) unless he himself is mastered by the Spirit.  For the intellect is uncontrollable, not because it is by nature ever-active, but because through our continual remissness it has been given over to distraction and has become used to that.  When we violated the commandments of Him who in baptism regenerates us we separated ourselves from God and lost our conscious awareness of Him and our union with Him.  Sundered from that union and estranged from God, the intellect is led captive everywhere; and it cannot regain its stability unless it submits to God and is stilled by Him, joyfully uniting with Him through unceasing and diligent prayer and through noetically confessing all our lapses to Him each day. . . ; for the mind is brought under control only in those who have been made perfect by the Holy Spirit and who have attained a state of total concentration upon Christ Jesus” (Philokalia, Vol. 4, 277).

With the help of God, in the spiritual battle we are to expel thoughts that would pull us away from this concentration upon Jesus.  Quoting St. John Climacus, St. Gregory tells us to “lash your enemies with the name of Jesus, because God is a fire that cauterizes wickedness.”  When embattled and overcome, we are to call out to God who will be prompt to help and “will speedily come to the defense of those who wholeheartedly call on Him day and night” (Ibid., 277).  

As mentioned earlier, in this battle one may make use of praying the psalms.  In fact, St. Gregory states, “to psalmodize often is appropriate for novices in the ascetic life, because of the toil it involves and the spiritual knowledge it confers” (Ibid., 278).  “Psalmody is given to us because of our grossness and indolence, so that we may be led back to our true state”; that is, the stillness wherein one can pray “to God with travail of heart, eschewing all conceptual images” (Ibid., 278) and shedding all thoughts whether of sensible or of intelligible realities. 

Such prayer, St. Gregory states, involves the whole self and so requires disciplining the body as well; in particular, the control of the belly - the “queen of the passions”.  Gregory writes: “If you can deaden or half-deaden it, do not relent. . . Through it we fall and through it - when well disciplined - we rise again.  Through it we have lost both our original divine status and also our second divine status, that which was bestowed on us . . .through baptism, and have lapsed once more, separating ourselves from God through our neglect of the commandments . . . .” (Ibid., 280).  To humble and still the intellect, one must humble the body. Though our bodies and needs vary greatly, those who seek such inner stillness and pure prayer should “always eat too little, never too much.  For when the stomach is heavy the intellect is clouded, and you cannot pray resolutely and with purity . . .To eat again after reaching the point of satiety is to open the door to gluttony, through which unchastity comes in” (Ibid., 281).  

Admittedly, such discipline of mind and body, such a desire to foster a radical stillness and purity of heart, may seem foreign and enigmatic to those of the West and perhaps inhuman.  But according to St. Gregory this “mindfulness of God, or noetic prayer, is superior to all other activities.  Indeed, being love for God, it is the chief virtue” (Ibid., 282).  It is love and no other reason that drives one to seek and foster such stillness - for it is there that the Beloved is found, as He Himself tell us, “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46).

Signs of Grace and Delusion

After a long hiatus, it is my hope now to pick up with my reading of the Philokalia with some regularity; in particular, reading those texts set down by a staretz in the “Way of the Pilgrim” as most appropriate for beginners.  I turn now to take a look at a work entitled “On the Signs of Grace and Delusion, written for the Confessor Longinos: Ten Texts” by St. Gregory of Sinai, contained in the IV volume of the Philokalia. St. Gregory (b. circa 1265, d. 1346) after embracing the monastic life in Cyprus, received the the full monastic profession at Mt. Sinai, and then travelled to Crete where he was taught by a monk called Arsenios about ‘guarding the intellect, true watchfulness and pure prayer, including the Jesus prayer; and so was initiated into the hesychastic tradition to which the writings of the Philokalia bear witness.  From Crete, Gregory went to Mt. Athos where he lived for 25 years in a secluded hermitage not far from the monastery of Philotheou, until being forced to leave due to the Turkish incursions.  He lived out the remainder of his life in the remote wilderness of Paroria on the border between the Byzantine Empire and Bulgaria.  Five of his works have been included in the Philokalia.  

Though very brief, “Signs of Grace and Delusion” addresses inner prayer, in particular the Jesus prayer, and contains a much needed description of how one discerns between what is of God and the movement of the Holy Spirit and what is of the fallen self and Satan, the source of delusion and falsehood.  

Often we lose sight of our dignity and destiny as sons and daughters of God - those given new life through baptism.  God has given us all we need to know Him and His will and to converse intimately with Him through the pure prayer of the heart.  St. Gregory describes this sad state with simplicity and candor:

“As the great teacher St. John Chrysostom states, we should be in a position to say that we need no help from the Scriptures, no assistance from other people, but are instructed by God; for ‘all will be taught by God’ (Isa. 54:13; John 6:45), in such a way that we learn from Him and through Him what we ought to know.  And this applies not only to those of us who are monks but to each and every one of the faithful: we are all of us called to carry the law of the Spirit written on the tablets of our hearts (cf. 2 Cor. 3:3), and to attain like the Cherubim the supreme privilege of conversing through pure prayer in the heart directly with Jesus. . . Unaware of the surpassing grandeur of the honor and glory in which we share, we fail to realize that we ought to grow in soul and spirit through the keeping of the commandments and so perceive noetically what we have received.  On account of this most of us fall through indifference and servitude to the passions into a state of benighted obduracy.”

Having failed to keep His commandments in obedience and to purify the the eye of the heart through unceasing prayer (“the continuous invocation of the Lord Jesus”. . . “that sets the heart alight with the ineffable love for God and man”), we no longer see and perceive what God has given us.  Rather, we fall into an unyielding and inflexible state of pitiful or contemptible intellectual or moral ignorance; no longer sons and daughters of Light but those whose faith is “formal, lifeless and ineffectual.”  

For every beginner, St. Gregory tells us, there are “two forms of energy at work, each affecting the heart in a distinct way” and each generating different kinds of fervor that can be prompted either by grace or delusion.  We would do well to study them thoroughly.  The following three paragraphs excerpted from this text will hopefully be a helpful introduction:

ON DIVINE ENERGY

“The energy of grace is the power of spiritual fire that fills the heart with joy and gladness, stabilizes, warms, and purifies the soul, temporarily stills our provocative thoughts, and for a time suspends the body’s impulsions. The signs and fruits that testify to its authenticity are tears, contrition, humility, self-control, silence, patience, self-effacement and similar qualities, all of which constitute undeniable evidence of its presence.”

ON DELUSION

“The energy of delusion is the passion for sin, inflaming the soul with thoughts of sensual pleasure and arousing phrenetic desire in the body for intercourse with other bodies. According to St. Diadochos it is entirely amorphous and disordered, inducing a mindless joy, presumption and confusion, accompanied by a mood of ill-defined sterile levity, and fomenting above all the soul’s appetitive power with its sensuality. It nourishes itself on pleasure, aided and abetted by the insatiable belly; for through the belly it not only impregnates and enkindles our whole bodily temperament but also acts upon and inflames the soul, drawing it to itself so that little by little the disposition to self-indulgence expels all grace from the person thus possessed.”

This is just a taste of St. Gregory’s work, which should be read in its entirety.  Within it, he discusses how to discover the energy of the Holy Spirit and what are the signs which accompany the Holy Spirit’s activity in us. St. Gregory also describes different kinds of exultation, joyousness, and trembling, explaining what such experiences may look like which are from God and symptomatic of the experience of divine grace, and those which come from the Evil One and are symptomatic of demonic delusion. 

"He who humbles himself will be exalted"

"He who humbles himself will be exalted” (Matt. 23:12).  To understand such a teaching, we look first to He who spoke the words - to Christ.  Our Lord humbled himself, took the form of a slave and became obedient unto death - death on a Cross.  This is the Master we follow and the model for our life.  This virtue is exalting, Hesychios tells us, because it destroys all those things that are evil and hated by God.  Humility strips us of all self-will and so all pride in ourselves and deeds.  Even after endless struggle, it leads us to say, “We are worthless servants, we have only done our duty” (Luke 17:10).  Humility acknowledges that all is grace; that all that we do comes from God’s hand.  It is the extreme and perfect humility of Christ that destroys all sin and when it is found in our hearts it strips away all that is contrary to God and his will.

Yet, surprisingly, Hesychios tells us that it is barely to be found among the ascetics (Philokalia, Vol 1, 173).  One may have a partial embrace of the ascetic life and so produce many virtues, but stop there.  Virtue itself can be sought as a possession, used to adorn oneself and exalt oneself in the one’s own eyes and the eyes of others. Humility only comes through great labor and is perfected only through suffering and trial; through self-emptying.  It is what most conforms us to the Lord and its opposite, pride, makes us most like Satan and unclean in the eyes of God:

“Scripture refers to the devil as ‘unclean‘ because from the beginning he rejected humility and espoused arrogance.  As a result he is called an unclean spirit throughout the Scriptures.  For what bodily uncleanness could one who is completely without body, fleshless and weightless, bring about in himself so as to be called unclean as a result? Clearly he was called unclean because of his arrogance, defiling himself thus after having been a pure and radiant angel.  ‘Everyone that is arrogant is unclean before the Lord‘ (Prov. 16:5), for it is written that the first sin was arrogance . . .”(Philokalia, Vol 1, 173).

How is it, then, that this gift of humility is to be acquired?  First, by recognizing that it is indeed a gift.  We are made humble by the mercy of God.  What we can do involves mostly acknowledging the truth about ourselves and our lowliness.  Hesychios writes:

“[We] can recollect the sins we have committed in word, action, and thought; and there are many other things which, reviewed in contemplation, contribute to our humility.  True humility is also brought about by meditating daily on the achievements of our brethren, by extolling their natural superiorities and by comparing our gifts with theirs.  When the intellect sees in this way how worthless we are and how far we fall short of the perfection of our brethren, we will regard ourselves as dust and ashes, and not as men but as some kind of cur, more defective in every respect and lower than all men on earth” (Philokalia, Vol. 1, 173-174).

While Hesychios’ words are terse and while we must be able to distinguish between the kind of mourning for sin that true humility produces and that leads to greater dependence upon God and the self-contempt that leads to depression and unholy sorrow, the counsel here is necessary given the pernicious nature of our pride and of the Devil’s temptations.  It is humility and the ascetic discipline of watchfulness that free a man from his sins and cut out the passions of his soul.  The fruit of this, Hesychios tells us, is purity of heart.  Those who have purified their hearts of all pride and the passions will see God and the greater the purity the “more they will see” (Philokalia, Vol 1, 175).

"Strike the Serpent on the Head": The Philokalia on Recognizing and Resisting Temptation

With constant vigilance and unceasing prayer, the Fathers sought above all to free themselves from the ascendancy of the passions.  The practice of such vigilance allowed them to recognize evil before being tempted to commit it.  Thus, Heyschios along with many others (St. Mark the Ascetic, St. John of Sinai, Evagrius, etc.) gives a “minute description of the progression of evil, and lays bare the technique or the mechanism of temptation.”  Straightforward as it is, Hesychios’ description needs very little commentary and his model, while differing in some small degree, is essentially the same as that of Evagrius.  

Hesychios begins by reminding us that temptation comes to us through our thoughts, their attachment to our imagination, and subsequent development:

“Just as it is impossible for fire and water to pass through the same pipe together, so it is impossible for sin to enter the heart without first knocking at its door in the form of a fantasy provoked by the devil” (Philokalia, Vol. I, 170).  

Knowing this, we must be ever on guard for the first sign and provocation to sin and ceaselessly invoke the Lord through the Jesus prayer.  If we give ourselves over to the provocation, then comes our “coupling with it, or the mingling of our thoughts with those of the wicked demons.  Third, comes our assent to the provocation, with both sets of intermingling thoughts contriving how to commit the sin in practice.  Fourth comes the concrete actions - that is, the sin itself” (Ibid., 170).  

Once the provocation is engaged, that is, once the serpent gets his head in the door, the battle is most assuredly lost and the unholy mingling of our own thoughts with those of the demons draws us quickly down the path to full consent.  

Paul Evdokimov, in his work “Struggle with God”, describes this movement in greater detail:

“The first movement of ‘contamination’ comes from a representation, image, idea, desire crossing our mind; something very fleeting that arises abruptly and solicits our attention.  From the subconscious the appeal rises to consciousness and makes an effort to be kept there.  This is not yet sin, far from it, but it is the presence of a suggestion.  It is in this first moment that the immediate reaction of the attention on the watch is decisive.  The temptation is going to go away or it is going to remain.  Spiritual writers make use of an image that was familiar in the desert: ‘Strike the serpent on the head’ before he enters the cell.  If the whole serpent enters, the struggle will be much more laborious.  

If the attention does not react, the following phase passes to pleasure.  A willing attention to the tempting solicitation causes a certain pleasure, becoming an equivocal attitude that is already cooperating.  St. Ephrem speaks of the ‘pleasant conversation’ of the soul with a persistent suggestion.

An enjoyment by anticipation, imaginary at the moment, marks the third stage.  A tacit agreement, an unavowed consent, orients one toward an accomplishment judged posssible, for it is passionately desirable.  In principle, the decision has indeed been taken; in the effective coveting of the object, the sin has been committed mentally.  This is judgment of the Gospel on the impure look in which adultery has already been pre-consummated.

The fourth stage effectively consummates the act.  It forms the beginning of a passion, of a thirst henceforth unquenchable.  When it has become a habit, the passion neutralizes every resistance.  The person disintegrates in the avowal of his powerlessness; he is bewitched and tends toward his implacable end . . .”(149)

We are often oblivious to this progression described by Hesychios and Evdokimov because of our lack of internal vigilance and prayer.  We heedlessly expose ourselves and our senses, especially in the West, to a whole host of images, ideas, and practices that make us vulnerable and easy prey to such attacks. We speak of “falling” into sin, but more often than not we jump into it with both feet and willingly.  To obtain such vigilance, to cut off all such temptations at the moment of provocation, will require a diligence and discipline not often seen in our culture, even among those with strong religious sensibilities.  We hear the Lord say in the gospel, “the kingdom of heaven suffers violence and the violent take it by force”.  And likewise, we hear him tell us, “if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off; if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out”.  But we rarely take our Lord at His word.  In these cases, to be sure, our Lord isn’t counseling violence toward anyone or encouraging self mutilation.  But he speaks of the willingness we must have, at times, to do violence to ourselves in the sense that we cut out of our lives those things that make us vulnerable to the provocation to sin, especially when we have repeatedly given ourselves over to the sin so that it has become a passion - an habitual response over which we have very little control.  This is the sacrifice that few in our day seem willing or have the courage to make.