An Ascetic Discourse by the Same Venerable and God-bearing Father Nilus the Faster

An Ascetic Discourse by the Same Venerable and God-bearing Father Nilus the Faster

Many Greeks and many Jews attempted the pursuit of wisdom, but only the disciples of Christ attained true wisdom. For they alone had Wisdom itself as their teacher, who showed them in deed the life that is well pleasing to God. The others were like actors displaying plays in a theatre: they adorned themselves with a likeness that was not their own. In vain did they call themselves all-wise, since they did not possess true wisdom. They displayed their wisdom by a cloak, a beard and a staff, while all the time they indulged the body and served desire as though it were their mistress. They were slaves of the belly and of the pleasures below it, treating these as though they were something natural. They obeyed anger and marvelled at glory, leaping greedily like dogs at rich tables. They did not know that a wise man loves freedom above all things, and that it is far more necessary to flee the passions, so as not to become their slave, than to escape being sold into bondage.

To my mind, nothing can harm the righteousness of a man who has become a slave to another man. But when he becomes a slave to the passions, as though they were the greatest of pleasures, he will suffer deep shame and be held up to ridicule. Among such men there are some who care nothing at all for action and suppose that they have acquired wisdom in words alone, having learned to discourse on lofty matters and to relate things that are hard to believe. They claim to know the greatness of the heavens, the size of the sun and the courses of the stars; sometimes they even attempt to prophesy, though the truth of these things is beyond measuring and the arguments are difficult. And yet they live more dishonourably than swine.

Even those among them who were men of action became worse than the first, because they laboured for glory and praise. For nothing else but display and vanity these wretched men devised many things and endured poverty and humiliation for a paltry reward. To strive to keep perpetual silence, to live on herbs, to wear a rough garment, to climb into a barrel and dwell in it — all this is the greatest madness in those who expect no reward after death. For them the recompense of virtue ends together with this life; they have chosen a contest for which they will receive no crown, and an unremitting struggle, devoid of honour and of help, that yields nothing but sweat.

Among the Jews, those who chose such a life are the sons of Jonadab, and they teach the same manner of life to everyone who wishes to live in this way. They dwell in tents, abstain from wine and from everything that leads to lust (cf. Jer 35:6), eat simple food and keep their needs within moderate bounds. They labour greatly at the discipline of their character and are often given to contemplation; hence the name by which they are called, the Essenes. In short, their purpose is to attain wisdom by deeds that do not contradict their vow.

Yet what profit is there for them in their labours and in a life full of toil, when they killed the very Sustainer of life, Christ, and for this their city perishes for all their toil? They rejected the One who bestows honours and grants eternal life, and therefore they sinned against Wisdom. For wisdom is the ordering of one’s character according to the true knowledge of the Divinity. Against this both the first and the second, both Jews and Greeks, have sinned, because they rejected the Wisdom that came to them from heaven and dared to practise wisdom apart from Christ, who alone displayed true wisdom in word and in deed.

For He was the first to open the road to it by His own life, showing how one must live in purity, keeping the soul above the passions of the body. And in the end He despised even the soul’s own life, when the salvation of men, which He was accomplishing, required His death. By this He showed those who wish to pursue wisdom rightly how they must pursue it: by renouncing all the pleasures of life, by bravely overcoming toil and the passions, by holding the body in low esteem, by keeping the soul honourable, and by giving it up readily when for the sake of virtue one must lay down one’s life. Having learned this, the holy apostles imitated His life.

When He called them, they renounced their own lives and, holding of no account their homeland, their kindred and their possessions, took upon themselves a hard and laborious way of living. They passed through every hardship, suffered wrongs and insults, were persecuted and left naked, lacking even necessities; and at the last they did not shrink from going to death, imitating their Teacher in all things and showing by their lives how one ought best to live. Yet Christians, who should have lived according to this pattern, either could not or would not follow it.

Only a few managed to tear themselves away from the turmoil of the world and to escape the storm that rages in the cities. Finding themselves thus outside the noise and bustle, they welcomed a life of solitude in imitation of the apostolic virtue. Instead of amassing wealth they chose to possess nothing; in order to mortify the passions they preferred plain food to delicacies, satisfying the body’s need with very little; they scorned soft garments as a useless invention of human self-indulgence and put on simple clothing merely to cover the body. They judged it senseless to care for earthly things and for beasts that live without labour, rather than for the things of heaven. They knew no adornments beyond the reach of human passion. There was no one among them who lent or took at interest; there were no judges among them and no defendants, for each man had his own conscience as an incorruptible judge. There was neither richer nor poorer; it never happened that one was torn apart by hunger while another was torn apart by gluttony, for the need of the poor was met by the generosity of those who had abundance.

And so there was equality and a common manner of life, since inequality was banished by the willing sharing of the wealthy with the poor. Yet even then there was not perfect equality, for the zeal of those who wished to humble themselves led once more to inequality — as it now leads to the inequality of those who wish to be famous. Envy was cast out among them, hatred was driven away, vainglory was removed, pride was destroyed, and every cause of unrest was banished. They became, as it were, dead and insensible to any increase of the passions, refusing to entertain fantasies of them even in sleep, because from the very beginning they had turned away from the memory of them and had grown accustomed to this by daily effort and patience.

They became lamps shining in the darkness, unquenchable stars illumining the dark night of this life, and defenders of a refuge, showing how one may escape the onslaught of the passions without suffering harm. But even this austere life, this dwelling in heaven, has become like a picture carelessly drawn and gradually faded, so that it no longer resembles itself. Those who had crucified themselves to the world, who had rejected worldly living and renounced the manner of life of other men, who had striven to attain the dispassion of the bodiless powers, have turned back. By their worldly wanderings and dishonourable possessions they darken the whole beauty of those who lived well. Upon those who might have been praised for their virtue they bring shame by their own carelessness.

Though we still keep our hand upon the plough, we are not fit for the Kingdom of God, because we look back (cf. Lk 9:62) and carefully preserve in our memory the very things we ought to have forgotten. We do not confine ourselves to what life requires, nor do we seek that lack of comfort which is so useful for putting distance between ourselves and our old defilements. We busy ourselves with things that are of no use for our true purpose, and our petitions for earthly goods defeat the counsels that save.

The Lord persuaded us in every way not to be anxious about earthly things and commanded us to seek first the Kingdom of God (cf. Mt 6:33); yet we have gone in the opposite direction. We have neglected the Lord’s commandments and, withdrawing from His providence, have placed our hope in our own hands. The Lord said to us: «Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them»; and again: «Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin» (Mt 6:26,28). He commanded us to take for the journey neither bag, nor two tunics, nor sandals, nor staff (cf. Mt 10:10), but to live solely by that unfailing promise which He gave when He sent out the apostles to preach: «The labourer is worthy of his keep» (Mt 10:10) — knowing that such a promise is more reliable for obtaining what we need than all our own requests.

But we, when we are able to buy a piece of land, do not refuse it. We buy flocks of sheep, and oxen for the plough, fine in appearance, and well-fed donkeys, so that we may shear abundant wool from the sheep when it is needed, and use the oxen to work the fields and provide food both for ourselves and for the animals, and the donkeys to carry burdens and to bring from other countries goods that our own land does not supply, so that we may prepare our food and thus take our pleasure in this life. And we choose the most profitable trades, which leave us no time at all to remember God, since they draw our whole attention to themselves.

It seems that we are condemning either the sword of the taskmaster or ourselves, and inviting the first blow. We do not say this in words, but we show it by our actions, taking delight in the life of laymen while our thoughts are the same as theirs. Perhaps we labour for these things even more than they do; we even reckon piety a source of profit, and suppose that the ancient life of stillness and blessedness serves no other end than to avoid hard service and to gain freedom for pleasure under a pretence of piety, so that we may rush unhindered and with great shamelessness towards whatever we desire, giving ourselves airs before ordinary people and sometimes before the nobility — as though a virtuous life prompted us to arrogance and not to humility and gentleness.

And so those to whom we ought to be fathers look upon us as fools; we are ridiculous to strangers and to everyone, because there is nothing in us to distinguish us from all the rest. We want to be recognised not by our deeds but by our appearance; we refuse the labours needed to acquire the virtues, yet we madly desire glory, displaying in ourselves a mere shadow of the truth that once was.

Some have taken upon themselves this venerable habit before they have washed away the filth of their soul, before they have erased from their thoughts the imprint of their old sins — and perhaps while they still dream of them shamelessly. They have not yet prepared themselves to fulfil their vows by their manner of life, nor learned what the purpose of a man who is wise according to God may be; yet already they frown like the Pharisee and are haughty about their appearance. Everywhere such a man carries a weapon he has not learned to wield, and displays by his outward look a knowledge he has not in the least acquired. He becomes not a refuge but a stumbling block, not a temple but a whitewashed tomb, not a sheep but a wolf that drives to destruction those who are brought to him.

When such men run away from the monasteries because they will not endure the hardness of that life, and feast in the cities, then, driven by the needs of the belly, they bow their heads and assume a pious appearance in order to deceive others, and are ready to do anything to satisfy the body’s wants. For there is nothing stronger than bodily necessity: it will find a way into places that are closed, especially when idleness is added to it. Having mastered their cunning devices, they resort like vermin to the houses of the rich, run to them in the market places almost like bought slaves, and push aside the passers-by to clear a path for the wealthy.

And they do all this in order to beg a meal, because they never learned to restrain desire and were unwilling to carry a spade under their belt, as Moses commanded (cf. Dt 23:13). For had they learned self-restraint, they would have known that hunger is the limit of the enjoyment of food, and that a simple meal, which meets the body’s need, exposes the emptiness of any untimely craving. Because of such men the name of God is grievously blasphemed, the life we long for is brought into contempt, and the gains of those who truly live in virtue are counted as loss.

The cities are filled with men who wander about to no purpose, troubling the masters of houses; and even the sight of those who sit shamelessly at the gates like beggars is offensive to them. Many such men have been received into houses, and at first they feigned the virtues and hid their evil intentions, and afterwards they robbed their hosts and departed — so that their whole way of life appears dishonourable. They are driven out of the cities as destroyers. They are hated as unclean men, as though stricken with leprosy. Robbers and housebreakers are trusted more than these, for it is easier to guard against a man who openly plots mischief than against one who inspires confidence while secretly contriving evil.

Such men never even began a life of piety and never knew what profit there is in stillness. Driven, it may be, by some need, they thoughtlessly entered upon a life that is not their own and look upon it as a means of acquiring everything they want. It would be more honourable, I think, if they did not go to every door, if they were ashamed to gather rich alms and accepted only what the body requires. But in them immoderate craving increases the appetite for delicate food, and for this reason it is hard to heal the incurably sick.

Who could find words to explain to the sick what health is, when they have never been well, but have been reared from infancy in a sickness that saps their strength, and out of habit suppose that their corrupted inward state differs in no way from real natural vigour? Every word will be wasted if the hearers themselves reach out for what is worse and argue against words that would help them; and most of all when the hope of pleasure inflames desire and passion makes them deaf to all advice. For counsel about anything in the world finds no entrance when the mind is turned towards the craving for filthy gain.

O Christ, why are we again bound by worldly petitions? Why do we build badly what we once pulled down so well? Why do we join in the evil counsels of those who live unworthily of their calling, and by our requests for vain things inflame the desires of the weak, and become for the inexperienced a road to gain? The Lord commanded us to bear with those who are inclined to fall back and to serve them what is profitable, not what is pleasant, so that we may not follow our own desires, nor push the simple into stumbling, nor teach them to be anxious about earthly things.

Why do we regard as something great the very things we have learned to despise? Why are we anxious about wealth and possessions and scatter our minds among many and various requests? Begging for these things draws us away from the attentiveness we need, teaches us to disregard the goods of the spirit, and brings great ruin upon those who take wealth for supreme blessedness. Those who have promised to be wise and boast of having risen above pleasure run to their satisfaction faster than laymen do. Nothing leads so inevitably to torment as to make many men imitators of one’s own wicked deeds; the death of those who follow the wrongdoer makes his own punishment heavier.

Those who did not reject the inheritance will face no light condemnation, for they learned from a teacher of evil deeds; while those who, through a generally poor opinion of him, escaped that shameful schooling, escaped him also. Therefore let no one be offended at what has been said, but let him correct what, through the negligence of many, has become a sin and a shame for monks — or else let him renounce the monastic life altogether.

When a man ought to be pursuing wisdom, accumulation is a hindrance, for the wise man renounces even his own body for the purity of his soul. Yet some are exceedingly eager to acquire property and to enjoy pleasures; they honour wisdom with words while their deeds estrange them from it; they refuse the works their vow requires, yet adorn themselves with honourable names. Are we not ashamed when those we consider our inferiors, the laity, reproach us for violating the Saviour’s commandments, and when those whom we ought to teach become our teachers? When we quarrel, they say: «A servant of the Lord must not be quarrelsome, but kindly to everyone»; when we dispute over property or money, they remind us: «If anyone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well» (Mt 5:40).

What else can they do but rebuke us, laugh and mock, when they see our deeds contradicting our vows? There is no need to quarrel with a man who encroaches on our property, nor to do all the things that the care of property demands. Someone has pulled down the fence of the vineyard and added part of your vineyard to his own; another has let his cattle into your field and diverted to one side the water that flowed into your garden — must we be angry and furious over this, become worse than madmen and prepare vengeance for them all?

Does it befit a state of life that ought to be trained in the contemplation of realities to be tied up with lawsuits, and to turn the power of contemplation into cunning trickery in order to gain success in earthly matters that profit us nothing? Why do we appropriate what belongs to others, forging for ourselves the heavy fetters of material things, and refusing to listen to Him who reproves such conduct? «Woe to him — says the prophet — who heaps up what is not his own, and loads himself with pledges» (cf. Hab 2:6). Those who pursue us are weighed down by nothing, according to the prophet’s word: «Our pursuers were swifter than the eagles of the sky» (Lam 4:19). But we load ourselves with worldly things, and therefore we move more slowly, and our enemies catch us the more easily.

The apostle Paul taught us to flee from them, saying: «Flee from greed» (cf. 1 Cor 6:18). Sometimes even those in good condition, when they hasten towards the prize but do not run with all their strength, are overtaken by their enemies, for these move much faster. A great obstacle for those who hasten towards virtue is attachment to worldly things, which prepares great ruin for both soul and body. What killed Naboth the Israelite? Was not the vineyard, which stirred up the envy of his neighbour Ahab, the cause also of Ahab’s death (cf. 1 Kgs 21:7-8)? Why did the two and a half tribes remain outside the promised land? Was it not because of their numerous cattle?

What separated Abraham and Lot? Was it not their many flocks and the quarrels of their shepherds, which divided even those two from each other (cf. Gen 13:7)? Since, then, property not only inflames the envy of the envious, but also turns its owners away from their better impulses, breaks the bonds of kinship, stirs up enmity between friends, contributes nothing to the life to come and brings little benefit in the present, why do we abandon the service of God and busy ourselves with vanity?

We are not the masters of our own life. God orders it; and human zeal, if it does not receive God’s help, will never bring its undertakings to completion, whereas God’s providence supplies perfect benefits even without human help. What use is diligence to those to whom God will say: «You have sown much, but harvested little… and I blew it away» (cf. Hag 1:6,9)? Did those who lived virtuously and were free from all anxiety ever lack anything indispensable? Did not Israel feed in the desert for forty years (cf. Ex 16:35) without consuming any fruit of agriculture? They did not want for food, for the sea unexpectedly gave them nourishment, releasing quails (cf. Num 11:31), and the sky fed them with manna, a strange and unfamiliar rain. The dry rock opened and gave abundant streams of water, and their clothes and sandals lasted the whole time and did not wear out.

And did Elijah have to plough the land and live on its fruits, when the ravens brought him his food (cf. 1 Kgs 17:6)? And when he came to Zarephath, did not the widow, who lacked even necessities, give him bread, taking it from the mouths of her own children, to show that virtue is greater than nature? This is a great wonder, yet not so difficult. When God wills, one can do without food altogether. How did Elijah complete a journey of forty days, having eaten only once? How did Moses pray to God on the mountain for eighty days without taking any human food (cf. Dt 9:18)? When the forty days had passed, he came down from the mountain and was angry that the people had cast the golden calf. He at once broke the tablets, returned to the mountain and, having remained there another forty days, received the second tablets and came down again to the people (cf. Dt 10:4). What human reasoning can account for such a wonder? How did the weak nature of the body hold out so long, when its strength was daily spent and never replenished? The Divine Word explains this wonder when it says: «Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God» (Mt 4:4).

Why, then, do we cast our heavenly citizenship to the ground, burying ourselves in anxiety about earthly things? Why does he who was brought up in purple now lie upon a dunghill (cf. Lam 4:5), as the prophet Jeremiah once said, weeping over certain men? When we ascend to God with bright and fervent thoughts, then we are nourished in purple; but when we abandon that order and meddle with earthly things, then we are clothed in dung. Why, having abandoned hope in God, do we rely upon our own strength and ascribe to our own hands the providence of the Lord? We do what Job called a great sin, when a man «kisses his hand with his mouth» (cf. Job 31:27). Nowadays we are not afraid to do this. Many follow the custom of kissing their hands and say that this brings them prosperity.

This is what the law says of them figuratively: «Every four-footed creature that goes on four feet shall be unclean to you… whatever crawls on four or on many feet… it is an abomination» (cf. Lev 11:27,42). He who relies on his hands and places all his hope in them walks on four feet; he who trusts in things of sense and continually turns his mind towards them goes on all fours; and he who clings fast to such things walks on many feet. Therefore the wise author wishes the perfect man to have not two feet but one, and that even this should not move often towards bodily things: «Let your foot be seldom in your neighbour’s house, lest he grow weary of you and come to hate you». Those who do not often turn to Christ for the needs of the body belong to those friends of whom the Saviour speaks to His disciples: «You are my friends» (Jn 15:14); but those who do so often become hateful.

What will he suffer, and how will he escape becoming hateful, who thinks endlessly about nothing but his own needs and will never rise to a higher life? He will not rise until he has feet to lift himself from the ground. For the lower limbs bear the weight of the body, bend a little towards the earth and help it to spring upward. So it is also with the thought that discerns the nature of things: when it stoops for the needs of the body, it at once sends up a light meditation and adds to it nothing from corruptible thoughts. Straight legs may belong to those who are not given to pleasure and never tear themselves from the earth at all; but the holy powers may have them too, since they never need anything bodily and never consent to it.

The great Ezekiel says of this: «Their legs were straight, and the soles of their feet were like the sole of a calf’s foot» (Ezek 1:7), which signifies unshakeable thought and swift movement in the pursuit of the true state of beings. For a man it is enough to have legs that bend, and to use them sometimes for bodily needs and sometimes for the spiritual exercises that lead upwards. Through such kinship of the soul with the higher powers it often ascends to them, while through the body it cares for earthly things only so far as necessity requires. To seek always what leads to pleasure is not a pure work, and is unbecoming in a man who has received blessed knowledge.

The law determined that a creature going on all fours is unclean if it always goes on all fours; and this leaves room for those who are in the body to attend to the body’s needs. When Jonathan fought against Nahash the Ammonite and went up on all fours, he was victorious (cf. 1 Sam 14:13), because he was serving only a natural necessity. For when he fought with a serpent — for so the name Nahash is translated — which crawls upon its belly, he was compelled for a time to resemble it by crawling on all fours; and then, straightening himself in his righteousness, he could the more easily overcome it.

And does not the story of Ishbaal (cf. 2 Sam 4:1) command us not to sweat so much over the body and not to trust our senses? Ishbaal was a king, and once he was sleeping on his bed, and had ordered a woman to guard the door. When Rechab and Baanah came, they saw that the doorkeeper, having cleaned the wheat, had fallen asleep. Then they entered the house and killed Ishbaal (cf. 2 Sam 4:7). This means that when mind, soul and senses attend to bodily things, they are asleep. That the doorkeeper was cleaning wheat signifies the turning of the mind towards bodily things — and not simply that, but with an effort to keep them in good order. And that Scripture tells us this story not idly but to teach us may be seen from this: why did the king set a woman to guard him, when he ought to have been guarded by armour-bearers and was surrounded by every dignity? Was the king so poor that a woman had to clean the wheat?

Something puzzling is often added to a narrative, and it signifies the truth. The mind of each man is like a king within, and thought serves as his doorkeeper. When thought puts its trust in these easy matters — and the cleaning of wheat indicates bodily things — then it is easy for the enemies to steal in and kill the mind. That is why the great forefather Abraham did not entrust the guarding of the entrance to a woman, for he knew that sense is easily led astray, that it delights in the sight of sensible things, divides the mind and persuades it to taste pleasures, even when it is plain that this pleasure will do harm. Abraham himself sits at the entrance, opening the door to divine thoughts and closing it against worldly petitions.

What profit have we in life from all this vain labour? Did not the Preacher say that «all a man’s toil is for his mouth» (Eccl 6:7), and the apostle that «having food and clothing, with these we shall be content» (1 Tim 6:8)? Why do we endlessly busy ourselves and labour «for the wind» (cf. Eccl 5:16), as Solomon says? By striving after earthly things we forbid our souls to enjoy the divine goods; and by loving the flesh and caring for it more than is needful, we make it our enemy. Then we cannot avoid fighting against it, for through excessive care it will fight the harder against the soul and will not let it win honours and crowns. What need of the body compels us to extend our desires so far? The body needs bread and water.

Do not the springs give us drink in abundance? And is it so hard for those who have hands to earn their own bread? A man may earn bread enough by labours that do not exhaust him. Must we toil so hard to earn money for clothes? Not at all, if our clothing serves ordinary need and not pride. Did the first man dress in soft garments, in cotton or purple, or wear luxurious robes? Did not the Creator command that he be clothed in garments of skin and fed on herbs (cf. Gen 3:21)? By this command He set limits to the needs of the body and thrust far away the intemperance that men now show.

I do not say that even now He will feed and clothe us — He who feeds the birds of the air and clothes the lilies of the field with such glory — for one cannot convince of this those who have strayed so far from such faith. But when a man lives virtuously and asks for something, will it not be given to him? When even the barbarians of Babylon, who took Jerusalem in battle, respected the virtue of Jeremiah and gave him everything the body requires, not only food but also the vessels commonly used for eating, will not his own countrymen — who have cleansed their minds of barbarity, who understand the good and diligently pursue the virtues — respect a virtuous life? Even when they themselves cannot, through weakness of nature, fulfil the virtues, they honour the virtuous life and marvel at those who practise it.

Who taught the Shunammite woman to build a chamber for Elisha and to put there «a table, a chair and a lampstand» (cf. 2 Kgs 4:10)? Was it not the virtue of Elisha? And what moved the widow, when famine raged throughout the land, to set the service of the prophet above her own need (cf. 1 Kgs 17:12)? Truly, had she not been won over by the wisdom of Elijah, she would not have taken from herself and her children their last small comfort and given it to him, nor hospitably fed a stranger, but would have chosen an untimely and swift death. Elijah and Elisha were made such men by their courage, their unrelenting labour and their contempt for worldly things. Having embraced poverty and asking nothing even in it, they came to resemble the bodiless powers. Therefore, though unknown and unglorified by bodily works, they were stronger than rulers. They spoke as boldly to men crowned with royal diadems as others would not dare to speak even to their own subjects.

On what weapon and on what power did Elijah rely when he said to Ahab: «It is not I who trouble Israel, but you and your father’s house» (cf. 1 Kgs 18:18)? How did Moses come to contend with Pharaoh, having nothing but virtue? When the army had gathered for battle and there were two kings, one of Israel and one of Judah, Elisha said to Joram: «As the Lord of hosts lives, whom I serve, were it not that I regard the presence of Jehoshaphat king of Judah, I would not look at you nor see you» (2 Kgs 3:14) — and he feared neither the assembled soldiers nor the anger of the king. The king, perhaps, had some foolish design, and his thoughts were disturbed by feats of war. But can a king do anything such as virtue does?

What purple ever parted a river as Elijah’s mantle did? What diadem ever healed diseases as the garments of the apostles did? The prophet alone rebuked a lawless king who stood there with his whole army. And because the king was angry at the rebuke, he stretched out his hand towards the prophet — and did not seize him, but his hand withered, and he could not draw it back to his body (cf. 1 Kgs 13:4). Thus did virtue and royal power contend, and virtue won. It was not the prophet who fought; virtue overthrew the enemy. The ascetic did nothing; faith acted. The king’s own men witnessed the contest, and his hand became a witness to the victory of virtue.

They acted thus because they chose the life of the soul and turned away from the body and its easy demands. The very fact that they needed nothing made them superior to everything. They would sooner leave the body and be freed from bodily life than choose honours instead of virtue and flatter one of the rich for the body’s sake. But we, when we need something, give up bravely enduring hardship in the contest; and, like dogs that wag their tails merrily and fawn on those who throw them a bone or crumbs, we run to the rich, calling them our benefactors and the guardians of Christianity. We ascribe to them every kind of virtue, even if they live most dishonourably, simply in order to get what we want. We do not follow the lives of the saints whose virtues we claim to imitate.

Naaman, the commander of the Syrian army, came to Elisha (cf. 2 Kgs 5:1) and brought many gifts with him. And what did the prophet do? Did he go to meet him? Did he hurry to him? Did he not explain through a single servant what had to be done, and refuse even to receive him, lest Naaman should think that the healing came about because of his offering? This is said so that we may not learn arrogance, nor flatter those who love the very things we have promised to despise.

Why do we abandon the purpose of the wise man and busy ourselves with farming and trading? Is our own petition anything great before God? Even the cultivation of the land is a joint work: man by his efforts ploughs the earth and sows the grain, and God waters it with timely rains and causes its roots to grow in the soft soil. The sun shines and warms the earth, and its heat makes the plants grow. God sends the breath of the winds according to the age of the crops: light breezes blow over the green field so that the sown grain is not scorched by a burning wind; stronger gusts bring the milky juice of the grain to ripeness; when the grain is threshed, the necessary heat comes; and when it is winnowed, moderate winds blow.

If only one of these were lacking, human labour would be in vain and our diligence empty, unsealed by the gifts of God. It often happens that nothing needed for a good harvest is lacking, yet an untimely downpour falls and ruins the ears that have not yet been threshed, or even the clean threshed wheat. And sometimes, even in the granary, the worm destroys it, as though snatching ready food from the mouth. Where, then, is our effort and what is its use, when God holds the outcome in His hands and does and dispenses everything as He wills?

Some will say that a weak body needs comfort. But how much better it is to die than to do anything contrary to one’s vow! Surely, when God wills that we should live, He will either give the body strength to bear the labour of the contest and receive the crown for valour, or He will find a way to comfort the one who is exhausted; and the Source of reward will never run short of resourcefulness.

It is good, beloved, exceedingly good, to return to the blessedness of old and to live as the ancients lived. I think it will prove easy for everyone who wills it. And if we must labour hard, that labour will not be fruitless: it will be rewarded by the good repute of our predecessors and by the progress of those who come after. Great success will attend those who began this life and left to their successors the example of a refined way of living, an encouragement to the weak.

Therefore let us avoid dwelling in cities and villages, so that those who live in cities and villages may come out to us. Let us love the desert, so that, if it should please anyone, we may draw to ourselves those who now flee from us. For it is written in praise of certain men that they left the cities and lived among the rocks, «like doves of the valleys» (cf. Ezek 7:16); and John the Baptist lived in the desert, «and all who dwelt in the cities went out to him» (cf. Mk 1:5). Men clothed in silk came out to look at his leather belt. Men who had gilded houses chose to converse in the open air. Men who had luxurious beds adorned with precious stones preferred to rest upon the sand. All this was within their power, though it was contrary to their habits, because the desire to see him took away the sense of hardship; the toil of an austere life was made light by the wonder of virtue.

So virtue is more honourable than wealth, and a life of stillness more glorious than many possessions. How many rich men there were in those days, and how many who greatly desired fame — and nowhere is there a word about them; yet the wonder of the man without repute is sung to this day, and the memory of the desert-dweller is pleasant to all. The ever-sounding praise of virtue sends forth a message proclaiming its beauty.

Therefore let us renounce the tending of flocks in order to receive the rank of shepherd; let us leave the trade we despise in order to acquire the precious pearl; let us avoid tilling a land that will bring forth thorns and thistles, so that we may become the keepers of paradise. Let us reject everything and choose a life of stillness, so as to shame those who now mock at what we have gained. Nothing shames mockers so much as the amendment and meekness of those they have mocked; the change in the one mocked becomes a shame to the scoffers. And I think it disgraceful, truly disgraceful, that all of us are justly mocked.

Nowadays a man comes to this other life, barely learns the customs of the contest — how to pray, and when, and what the rules of common life are — and at once becomes a teacher, though he has not studied; and he attracts many disciples to himself, though he himself still has everything to learn. And the more he does this, the easier the work appears to him, because he does not know that the hardest of all works is the care of souls, which need first of all to be cleansed of their old impurities and then to be tended with great care, so that the habits of the virtues may be imprinted upon them.

How will a man who knows nothing beyond bodily exertions correct the dispositions of those under him? How will he change habits long accustomed to evil? How will he help those who are overcome by the passions, when he knows nothing at all of the inward struggle? Or how will he heal the wounds received in battle, when he himself is still wounded and in need of bandages? To master any art takes much time and study; only the art of arts is undertaken without any learning at all.

An inexperienced man will not dare to till the land; a man who has not learned medicine will not undertake to treat the sick, for he would be reproached with not only failing to help the sick but even increasing their pain, just as the first would be reproached with having ruined good land and let it be overgrown with weeds. Yet men without training approach the things of God as though this were the easiest of tasks and simple for many. Even the apostle Paul says that he has not yet reached perfection (cf. Phil 3:12), while they claim to have come to know precisely what they do not know at all.

That is why the monastic life is not respected nowadays and those who follow it are treated with contempt by everyone. Who does not laugh when he sees a man who yesterday carried water for a tavern teaching the virtues today, surrounded by disciples; or a man who has only just withdrawn from all worldly business now passing proudly through the whole market place with a crowd of pupils? If they knew for certain that it is a great work to guide others to piety, and if they saw how dangerous this work is, they would have given it up as beyond their strength.

But so long as they do not know this, and think it a great glory to be superiors over others, they willingly fall into the pit; they suppose it an easy thing to leap into a burning furnace; they provoke the laughter of those who know their former life, and they anger God by such presumption. If nothing saved the priest Eli from the wrath of God — neither his honourable old age, nor his former boldness, nor his priestly dignity — because he neglected the upbringing of his children, what will save from God’s wrath those who by their former deeds have not inclined God towards them, who know neither the signs of sin nor the way to correct themselves, and who yet undertake this difficult work for the sake of glory, without the proper skill?

That is why the Lord, calling the Pharisees teachers, said: «Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, who travel over sea and land to make one convert, and when he becomes one, you make him twice as much a son of hell as yourselves» (Mt 23:15) — warning by this reproach those who would come after them and fall into the same sins, so that hearing the word «woe» they might restrain their untimely craving for human glory by reflecting on the punishment it brings.

Let them learn from Job to care for those under them as he did; or let them give up such rule, if they do not know how to act as he did, or do not wish to care for their subordinates. For if he, wishing his children to be clean from every defilement of mind, offered sacrifices for them every day, saying: «Perhaps my children have sinned and blasphemed God in their hearts» (cf. Job 1:5), how shall those who cannot distinguish even manifest sins, because their thinking is still clouded by the struggle with the passions, undertake to teach others and to heal others, when they have not yet recovered from their own passions and cannot teach others to conquer by their own victory? It is good first to fight against the passions and with great prudence to note what happens in that battle, and then to teach others out of one’s own experience, so that victory may come to them more easily when they know how to fight.

There are ascetics who conquered the passions by great steadfastness of life and yet did not know how they won the victory, because they fought as it were by night and never considered in their minds the devices of the enemy. This was shown by Joshua, who crossed the Jordan with his army by night and commanded that stones be taken from the river (cf. Josh 4:5). Out of these stones he ordered a pillar to be set up on the bank, whitewashed, and inscribed with an account of how the army crossed the Jordan. By this he signified that one must bring to light the hidden thoughts of a life given to passion, explain them to everyone and not begrudge others such knowledge, so that not only the man who has crossed over may know how to cross, but those who wish to cross may do so the more easily, having learned from him.

But these teachers neither see this nor listen when others tell them of it. They stand firm in their position and command the brethren as though they were hired servants, desiring great glory because they teach many. Each of them wants to have no fewer subjects than the next man, though they resemble merchants more than teachers. When they think it an easy matter to give orders in words, even orders that are hard to keep, and do not so much as attempt to teach by deeds, it is plain from this that they are seeking their own pleasure and not the benefit of their disciples, and that they take up teaching in order to gratify a passion.

Let them learn, if they will, from Gideon and Abimelech that it is not the word but the deed that moves subordinates to follow. Abimelech cut down a branch and laid it on his shoulders and said to the people: «What I have done, do you also» (cf. Judg 9:48). And Gideon, teaching everyone what to do, does it himself and says: «Look at me and do as I do» (cf. Judg 7:17). And the apostle says of himself: «These hands ministered to my necessities and to those who were with me» (Acts 20:34). And the Lord Himself first did and then taught. Do these examples not convince us that deeds, and not words, are the surer means of instruction?

But such teachers pretend not to notice these patterns and arrogantly dictate what ought to be done. And when they hear anything of this kind, they carry the sword upon their shoulder, like the shepherds whom the prophet reproved for their incompetence (cf. Zech 11:17); and therefore their arm withers and their right eye is blinded. For a good work abandoned through pride extinguishes itself and puts out the light of the eyes. This is what will happen to those who issue harsh and inhuman commands as soon as they take power into their hands. In them the contemplative thoughts that belong to right thinking quickly die out, and action, deprived of contemplation, dies with them. Those who have the sword on the shoulder and not «at the side» (cf. Ex 32:27) can neither act nor see.

Those who cut away their own passions by the word carry the sword at their side; those who are swift to punish the sins of others carry it on the shoulder. In the same way Nahash the Ammonite — whose name means «serpent» — threatens discerning Israel that he will blind every right eye (cf. 1 Sam 11:2), so that no one may keep a single right thought that would lead its possessor to right action. For Nahash knew that the passage from contemplation to action brings great success, since the action of such men is free from all defilement, because they foresee it with the keen sight of their eyes.

And it is known by experience that the teaching of others is undertaken by frivolous men who gain no profit from solitude. For he who has begun the labour of stillness and has learned contemplation will not wish to bind his mind with worldly cares, to draw it away from contemplation and from those heights where it apprehends many things, and to bring it down to earthly matters. This is the meaning of that well-known parable which Jotham told from the hill of Shechem: once the trees set out to anoint a king over themselves (cf. Judg 9:8). They said to the vine: «Come and reign over us» (cf. Judg 9:12); and the vine answered: «Shall I give up my sweet fruit, which pleases God and men, and go to sway over the trees?» (cf. Judg 9:11,13). So too the fig tree refused, because its fruit is sweet, and the olive, because its fruit is rich.

Then the bramble — a barren and thorny bush — began to reign over them (cf. Judg 9:15), having no richness either in itself or in the trees beneath it. The parable tells us that a king was sought not for the trees of paradise but for the trees of the forest. For the vine, the fig and the olive all refused to reign over the trees of the forest, taking more joy in their own fruit than in the dignity of kingship. So those who see in themselves some fruit of virtue and feel its benefit refuse to become teachers, even when many press them to it, preferring the profit of their own soul to the honours of a teacher.

And what the bramble in the parable promised to do to the trees is exactly what happens to men who take such obligations upon themselves. For it is said that «fire will come out of the bramble and devour» (cf. Judg 9:15) the trees of the forest, or that fire will come out of the trees and devour the bramble. When an unprofitable covenant is made, then disaster falls both on those who have obeyed an inexperienced teacher and on the man who has taken upon himself the burden of teaching, through the disobedience of his disciples. For the teacher’s inexperience destroys the disciples, and the carelessness of the disciples brings disaster on the teacher, especially when they grow weaker through his ignorance. Nothing that serves for the correction of the disciples may be hidden from the teacher, and the disciples must disregard none of the teacher’s directions.

Disaster will come upon disciples and teacher alike: upon the disciples when they do not obey the teacher, and upon the teacher when he does not see the disciples’ transgressions. Let no teacher imagine that the work of teaching will bring him joy and satisfaction; the hardest of all tasks is the governing of souls. Those who tend cattle have their herds before them, and the herds oppose them in nothing, so their efforts bring great success. It is far harder to teach men, for each man has a different temperament, and to this is added the cunning of the heart. He who undertakes to teach should strengthen himself as one going out to a hard contest, so that with great endurance he may bear the sins of all and teach them everything they do not know.

Therefore the laver in the temple is carried on the backs of oxen, and the lampstand must be solid and burnished. A lamp gives light to others, and therefore all its parts must be solid; nothing in it should be light, or hollow, or superfluous, and so useless to those for whom it is a pattern of a blameless life. The oxen that support the laver signify that the man who accepts the work of teaching can refuse nothing, but must bear the burdens and the filth of those younger than himself, so long as this brings no danger upon him. For whoever wants the deeds of those who come to him to be cleansed must himself touch a certain uncleanness; even the basin that cleanses the hands of those who wash takes their dirt into itself.

In the same way, he who speaks about the passions and cleanses others from the passions cannot remain undefiled. The very mention of them stains the mind of the speaker; and though he sketches such images only lightly, in uttering the word he smears the face of his mind as with dirty paint. It is good for a superior to know these things, so that none of the enemy’s designs may be hidden from him, so that he may show all the subtleties of the secret struggle to those who trust him and, forestalling the enemy’s tricks, may lead them to an easy victory and bring them out of the contest crowned. But such men are few, and it is not easy to find them.

The great Paul bears witness of himself, saying: «We are not ignorant of his designs» (2 Cor 2:11). And the wonderful Job, marvelling at this, says: «Who has ever laid bare the front of his garment? Who can penetrate his double coat of mail? Who can open the doors of his face?» (cf. Job 41:13-14). The meaning of Job’s words is this: the face of Satan is invisible, his malice is covered with many garments, his appearance is deceptive and flattering, and he prepares destruction in secret. Job cannot be reckoned among those who do not know: he names the marks of Satan plainly, emphasising everything strange about him: «His eyes are like the eyelids of the dawn… his back is a row of shields» (cf. Job 41:18,15).

So Job speaks, exposing the wiles of Satan: that he takes the form of a bearer of light and so attracts to himself those who look at him, and with his shields prepares death for those who draw near. And the Proverb tells what harm comes from him: «He who splits logs is endangered by them, if the axe-head is blunt» (cf. Eccl 10:9-10). He who distinguishes things by his word, who separates what is thought to be one and sets one thing apart from another in every way, in order to show that the true difference lies in what is held to be good — if his word is not firmly established at every point, he will suffer harm from his hearers as soon as the force of his word fails and they find occasion for stumbling.

So one of those who came to Elisha was felling a tree by the Jordan, and when the axe-head fell into the river, he saw the trouble he was in and cried out to his teacher: «Alas, master! It was borrowed!» (2 Kgs 6:5). This is what happens to those who try to teach without experience of their own and cannot finish the work, because it is beyond their strength. And when their hearers rebuke them for saying something that contradicts their own words, then they confess their ignorance and regret what they said. Therefore the great Elisha threw a piece of wood into the river so that the axe-head should float (cf. 2 Kgs 6:6) — so that the meaning which the disciple had not grasped, and which lay hidden in the depths, might be brought to light and explained to the hearers.

The Jordan signifies repentance, for there John performed the baptism of repentance. But he who speaks of repentance without experience brings his hearers to the point of neglecting to discover the good that lies hidden, and by this he throws the axe into the Jordan. The wood that appeared lifts the axe from the depths and makes it float to the surface: that is, until there was the tree of the cross, the word of repentance lay hidden, and anyone who wished to say something about it was rebuked as rash; but after the cross it became clear, because the tree of the cross revealed it in due season.

I say this not to turn anyone away from teaching others altogether, nor to forbid the instruction of beginners in piety, but so that he who undertakes to teach may first make the necessary virtue habitual in himself for this great work, and may not hurry to take it up, nor think only of his own convenience, the respect of his disciples and the glory he will have among those around him, but may remember the burdens that will fall upon him; and so that, until peace has come, he may not beat his weapons of war into ploughshares and pruning hooks. When all the passions have been conquered, when no attack is to be expected from anywhere and there is no need to take up arms in self-defence, then it is good to turn them into other tools.

But so long as the passions reign and the battle against the mind of the flesh continues, it is not good to lay down our weapons, lest the enemy attack us when we are weakened and defeat us. The words of Scripture are addressed to those who strive hard to gain virtue and who, out of great humility, do not think that they have already won: «They shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks» (Is 2:4). These words counsel them that, when they have defeated their enemies, they should exercise themselves no longer for their own sake but for the benefit of others, withdrawing from the struggle and turning the strength of their minds to the care of those who are still overgrown with our evil deeds.

But to those who have not yet reached such a state, and who through inexperience or arrogance have taken on a task beyond their strength, Scripture gives the opposite counsel: «Beat your ploughshares into swords and your pruning hooks into spears!» (Joel 3:10). What use is farming when there is a war and the crops are gathered by the enemy and not by the farmers? Therefore, when the Israelites were passing through the desert and fighting various peoples, they were not commanded to till the land, lest they neglect their skill in war. But when they had defeated their enemies and peace had come, they were given this counsel: «When you come into the land which I am giving you, the land shall keep a sabbath» (Lev 25:2) — you shall sow nothing. Such was the command, and it is right.

Until the sowers are set right, what is sown will not be strong, for the sowers are shaken by inconstancy. Order and consistency, if they belong anywhere, belong also to the works of piety, and they must be established from the beginning. Those who despised the beginning and were led on by false promises are compelled to come back to order and consistency. When Jacob was drawn by the beauty of Rachel, he paid no attention to Leah’s weak eyes (cf. Gen 29:17), yet he did not shrink from the labour that virtue requires and served another seven years for Rachel (cf. Gen 29:27). He who is willing to go through the contest from the beginning and not from the end will obtain what he desires and will bring those under him to the perfection of virtue.

But some, having done no deed either small or great, rashly pursue the name of teacher; and not only do they not refuse when others urge them to it, but they go about the streets dragging with them everyone they meet, making an agreement with them, as with hired men, about food and clothing — ready to indulge the whims of their disciples and to let their desires carry them unchecked over precipices, as horses carry riders who have let the reins fall from their hands, allowing them to run where they will and to knock down everyone who is still on his feet, since there is no one to stop them and quell their idle impulses.

But let them listen to the blessed Ezekiel, and how he rebukes those who let others indulge their lusts and, by gratifying everyone’s desires, heap up sorrow for themselves: «Woe to those who sew bands upon every wrist and make veils for the heads of persons of every stature, to hunt souls… for handfuls of barley and pieces of bread» (cf. Ezek 13:18-19). Such men gather from alms what they need for the body, content, as they say, with rags; and they dishonour those who ought to pray or prophesy with their heads uncovered, putting a veil upon them and turning the nature of a man into that of a woman; and thus they destroy souls that ought not to die.

Those who have listened to the true Teacher, Christ, would refuse as far as they could to rule over others. For Christ says to His disciples: «Do not be called teacher» (cf. Mt 23:8). When Christ counsels Peter and John and the whole company of the apostles to regard themselves as unequal to so honourable a work, who then dares to think himself higher than the apostles and to take upon himself a dignity which they were forbidden to take?

Or do the words «Do not be called teacher» perhaps mean that one may not be called a teacher, yet may be one? If a man, against his will, is compelled to teach others because he has accepted one or two disciples, let him first examine himself thoroughly, whether he can teach not by word but by deed how one ought to live, offering his own life to the disciples as a pattern of every virtue, so that those who copy the pattern may not spoil the beauty of virtue by some incongruous fall.

Besides this, let him know that he must care for those under him no less than for himself, since he will answer both for himself and for all of them, because he took charge of their salvation. The saints took care that their disciples should not be inferior to them in virtue, but raised them from their original condition to a better one. The apostle Paul made a martyr out of the runaway Onesimus; Elijah appointed the ploughman Elisha as prophet; Moses set Joshua, the youngest of all, before everyone; the priest Eli made Samuel greater than himself. If the watchfulness of the disciples helped them to acquire virtue, the first cause of their success was that they had teachers who kindled the spark of zeal and made it shine. That is why they became the mouth of God and announced God’s will to men. You have heard the Lord say: «If you bring forth the precious from the worthless, you shall be as my mouth».

God offers Ezekiel the role of a teacher, showing him from whom to choose disciples. «Son of man — says the Lord — take a brick, set it before you and portray on it the city of Jerusalem» (cf. Ezek 4:1), indicating that the teacher makes of his disciple a holy temple out of clay. These words too are good: «set it before you». They mean that the disciple will quickly make progress if he is always before his teacher’s eyes. Frequent reminders of beautiful examples draw the like images even on hard and stubborn souls. Gehazi began to steal and Judas became a traitor because both of them withdrew from their teacher’s eyes; had each of them stayed near the one who taught him, he would not have sinned.

When the disciples are careless, the teacher is in danger, as God says afterwards in these words: «Then take an iron plate and set it as an iron wall between you and the city» (cf. Ezek 4:3). Let him who does not wish to punish an idle disciple, after making a city out of him — out of clay — remind him what torments await the man who avoids such an order, so that these torments, becoming a wall, may separate the guilty from the innocent. The Lord commands Ezekiel thus, saying: «Son of man, I have made you a watchman for the house of Israel… and if the people are not warned, and the sword comes and takes away the life of one of them, his blood I will require at your hand» (cf. Ezek 33:6-7).

Moses builds himself the same wall when he says to the Israelites: «Take heed that you are not ensnared into imitating them, after they have been destroyed before you». This is what happens to those who pay no attention to their thoughts once all the passions have been cut away. Then the images of old fantasies begin to sprout again like shoots; and if you allow them to assail the mind often and to enter within, the passions will return, and after the victory you will have to begin the ascetic life all over again. It happens that passions which have been tamed — like oxen accustomed to graze quietly — grow wild again through the negligence of the one who tamed them and become as furious as wild beasts. And so that this may not happen, Scripture says: «Take heed that you are not ensnared into imitating them, after they have been destroyed before you», so that the soul, grown used to delighting in such fantasies, may not return to its former evil deeds.

The blessed Jacob, knowing that such things happen, and that when they are often looked upon they harm the mind most of all by imprinting on it clear and vivid images in shameful dreams, hid the foreign gods at Shechem (cf. Gen 35:4). For the labour of fighting the passions hides and destroys them not for a short while but until the present day, that is, for ever; for the word «now» refers to the whole age and always signifies the present time. And the name Shechem means «strength», that is, the labour of the struggle against the passions. That is why Jacob gives Shechem to Joseph (cf. Gen 48:22), because he fought diligently against the passions. And when he says that he took Shechem «with my sword and my bow», Jacob confirms that he overcame his passions by battle and toil and buried them in the land of Shechem.

It may seem a contradiction that it is praiseworthy to hide foreign gods at Shechem, while to conceal an idol is blameworthy; for it is decreed with an oath, and it is said: cursed is he who conceals an idol. But these are different things: to bury in the ground for ever, and to hide something for a time. What is buried in the ground and cannot be seen by the eyes is erased from memory in the course of time; but what is merely hidden may be unknown to others while it is constantly remembered by the one who concealed it, and the memory that holds the idol is continually renewed. Every shameful thought that takes shape in the mind is a hidden likeness of an idol. It is disgraceful to expose such thoughts to public view; it is not right to conceal such a likeness; and it is worse still to search out and restore images already put to rest, for then the thought easily inclines towards the passion it had rejected and tips the scales down to the earth. Such is the property of virtue: it is very easily tilted to either side, and when it is neglected it inclines to the opposite.

The words of Scripture remind us of this when they say: «The land into which you are entering is shaken by the movement of the heathen nations». As soon as a man who has the habit of virtue surrenders to the adversary, virtue surrenders with him, for the ground is unstable. Therefore from the very beginning one must not allow the fantasies that habitually do harm to enter the mind, nor let the thought go down into Egypt, because from there it passes to the Assyrians. If thought descends into the darkness of impure thoughts — and this is how Egypt is to be understood — then the passions drag it involuntarily into action. That is why the Lawgiver, forbidding the secret approach of desire, commands us to crush the head of the serpent, otherwise it will strike at the heel (cf. Gen 3:15). The serpent tries not to bite openly, since otherwise it cannot release its poison; and we must take care to destroy the first utterance of sensual pleasure, for its power is weak while it is still being destroyed.

Perhaps for this reason Samson would not have set fire to the fields of his own countrymen if he had not tied the foxes by their tails (cf. Judg 15:4-5). For he was able to understand the tricks of cunning thoughts by their outcome and not by their beginning — since thoughts try to appear honourable at first in order to reach their end — and, having compared their ends, he proved how unfitting these thoughts were. Having tied the tails together, he fastened a torch to them, that is, exposure.

To explain this better I shall put forward the following two examples, which will serve as a true confirmation for other thoughts as well. Often the thought of unchastity comes through vainglory; and although it shows honourable men the beginnings of roads, it hides the ruinous places through which it brings those who follow it thoughtlessly to the dwelling of death. Sometimes it offers the priesthood, sometimes the perfect monastic life. It persuades a man that many come to him for help, and teaches him to dream of glory in word and deed. And when it has led him far enough away from his natural prudence, it then presents to him the image of a meeting with an honourable woman and pushes him to consent to a filthy deed, bringing his conscience to the utmost shame.

Therefore let him who wishes to tie the tails together look at the ends of the thoughts: the end of vainglory is reward, and the end of unchastity is dishonour; and when he sees that they are opposites, let him do what Samson did. The thought of gluttony too ends in unchastity, and the thought of unchastity ends in grief — and at once, for sadness and weariness follow those who are overcome by these thoughts. Therefore, having driven out these thoughts, let the ascetic think neither of the enjoyment of food nor of pleasures, but of the end of both thoughts; and when he understands that grief follows them both, then let him know that he has tied the tails together and set the fields on fire, exposing the foreigners.

Since such knowledge and experience are needed in the fight against the passions, let those who have accepted the office of superior over others consider what knowledge they need in order to lead their novices wisely to the honour of the highest rank; and let them be taught everything one must know for the battle, so that they may not think that victory is won merely by waving their hands in the air, but may know how to strike blows against the enemy in real combat, so as not to stretch out their hands into the air in vain, but to hit the adversary himself.

Of all contests this contest is the hardest. In other contests the body of the athlete is bent, but he rises again easily; here it is souls that fall, and when they have once been thrown down it is hard to set them on their feet again. If a man who is still struggling with a life of passion and stained with blood plans to build a temple to God out of rational souls, he will hear these words: «Would you build me a house to dwell in?… You are a man of blood!» (cf. 2 Sam 7:5). One must be in a state of peace in order to build a temple for God.

And Moses, when he received the tabernacle, set it up outside the camp, showing how far the guide must be from the cares of war, dwelling at a distance from the troubled army, having passed over to a peaceful and unwarlike life. But when such guides are found, then the disciples must renounce their own will so completely as to be like a lifeless body or like material in the hands of a craftsman. As the soul does what it wills in the body and the body does not contradict it, or as the craftsman displays his skill upon his material and the material does not thwart his intention, so must the teacher teach his disciples to know the virtues, and they must not contradict him.

If they examine the teacher’s arrangements and want to test his command, they harm their own progress. What seems true and good to the inexperienced is not always true and good. A craftsman judges his material in one way and a man who is not a craftsman in another; for the craftsman takes his knowledge as his rule, and the man who is no craftsman takes his own imagination, which is rarely right and very often far from correct, since there is much error in it. What would seem at first sight more unreasonable than that the helmsman, when the ship is capsizing, should order the men to sit on the side that is going down and to move away from the higher side, especially as the wind blows harder on the side that is more heavily loaded? It would seem wiser to weigh down the raised side and not to move to the more dangerous one.

Yet the passengers trust the helmsman rather than their own opinion, because necessity persuades them to submit to his skill, even though at first sight it seems to promise nothing good. So let those who have entrusted their salvation to others lay aside their preconceptions and submit to the master’s skill, acknowledging that his knowledge is more reliable than their own notions. And when they renounce themselves, let them hide nothing, fearing what happened to Ananias, who planned to keep back part of the money he had received from men (cf. Acts 5:2) and received condemnation from God for his deceit. As they have given themselves, so let them give all that is theirs, knowing well that whatever is held back often draws the mind to itself, and will first draw it away from what is best and then remove it altogether from the company of the brethren.

That is why the Holy Spirit wrote the Lives of the saints: to lead by these examples everyone who begins the spiritual life towards the truth. How did Elisha leave the world when he clung to his teacher? He was ploughing before Elijah with twelve yoke of oxen, and he slaughtered the oxen and burned them with the implements (cf. 1 Kgs 19:21). This is a sign of great earnestness. He did not say that he would sell the implements, but that he would deal with the oxen as he ought, though had they been sold there would have been more profit from them. He was wholly filled with the desire that drew him to converse with his teacher; and so he despised visible things and hastened to abandon them, because they distracted him from a good purpose, and he had often seen how delay draws a man away from a good purpose.

Would the Lord have commanded the rich young man who was seeking the perfect life to sell all his property, give it to the poor and keep nothing for himself (cf. Mt 19:21), if He had not known that even to leave something behind becomes a cause of the scattering of thoughts? For this reason, I think, Moses commanded those who wished to purify themselves by a great vow to shave the whole body and to lay aside completely all care about property.

When the cows were harnessed to the cart that carried the ark, they forgot their nature and their calves, which had been left in the stalls; and, compelled by no one, they went their whole way without faltering, turning neither to the right nor to the left. They did not low out of pity for their calves, but, weighed down by the burden of the ark, they bowed their necks; for although their nature remained in them, they walked as though overcome by the honour of the ark laid upon them. If cows were in such a disposition, what should be the disposition of those who intend to carry the ark of the mind? They should do even more, so that dumb creatures may not prove stronger than they, since these are able under compulsion to do what men cannot do with understanding.

Or perhaps Joseph lost his way in the desert precisely because he was seeking perfection in family ties. Therefore a man who wished to know the truth, having asked him why he had gone astray and having learned that the cause was affection for his own kin — for if Joseph had reasoned rightly, he would not have asked where his brothers were pasturing their flocks, but where the pasture was — said to him: «They have gone from here, for I heard them say: Let us go to Dothan» (cf. Gen 37:17). And Dothan means «great loss», and this is the lesson for a man who still wanders in the desires of the flesh.

For perfection cannot be attained in any other way than by ridding oneself completely of the passions that belong to the body. And when a man leaves Haran (cf. Gen 27:43), which signifies sense-perception, for Haran is translated «caves», and comes out of the valley of Hebron, that is, from unworthy deeds, and out of the desert through which the seeker of perfection wanders without coming to complete renunciation, then his long labours bring him no benefit because of his attachment to his kindred; and such attachment deprives the soul of perfect desire. And the Lord, when He forbade the Virgin Mary, who was looking for Him among her relatives, and when He called unworthy of Him anyone who loves father or mother more than Him (cf. Lk 2:44), teaches us by this not to seek ties with kinsfolk.

When the disciples have attained this, they should be advised that, since they have only recently withdrawn from the turmoil of the world, they should keep silence, and that when new thoughts arise they should not aggravate the wounds inflicted by the senses, nor add new images to the idols of their old sins. Silence does not come easily to those who have just renounced the world. Their memory, having much leisure, stirs up all the impurity that lies within, which formerly it could not do because of its many occupations. And after this too there is profit in silence, since the mind is gradually freed from shameful thoughts.

Whoever wants to wash his soul and cleanse it of all defilement must withdraw from everything through which defilement multiplies; he must give his mind silence and keep far from all that can trouble it, and not live with unreasonable men, welcoming solitude, the mother of wisdom. For it is very easy for such men to fall again into the same nets from which they supposedly freed themselves, if they carelessly surround themselves with troublesome people. He who has passed over to virtue will find no joy in the things he has left behind and despised; yet habit draws him, so that even a man who has come to stillness with great zeal will renew his shameful intentions and remember forgotten evil deeds.

A mind that has only just turned away from sin is like a body beginning to recover from a long illness: even some small thing can bring the sickness back. In the same way the powers of thought are weak in those who are not yet established in strength, and so one must take care not to return to the passions stirred up by human carelessness. Therefore one must stay in one’s cell, so as not to suffer disaster from the destroyer. So Moses commanded, saying: «Do not go out of the door of your house, lest the destroyer touch you». Jeremiah means the same when he commands: «Do not go out into the field and do not walk on the road, for the sword of the enemy is all around» (cf. Jer 6:25).

To attack the enemy is the work of courageous ascetics. But if a man cannot fight at all, let him stay safely at home, establishing himself securely in stillness (cf. Dt 20:8). Such was Joshua, of whom it is written: «His servant Joshua, still a young man, did not depart from the tent» (cf. Ex 33:11). For he knew that those who go out in their youth sometimes perish at the hands of their brothers and friends through entering battle too early. He learned this from the story of Abel; and from the story of Dinah one may learn well that it is characteristic of young men and women to undertake work beyond their capacity and to deceive themselves into thinking that they are equal to it.

For if Dinah had not set out unwisely to investigate how others live, thinking it would do her no harm, and if she had not sought her comfort among them, she would not have destroyed her mental prudence before its time, led astray by the notions her senses suggested to her, before she had lawfully begun to converse with a courageous mind. God knows that this passion — I mean presumption — is deeply rooted in men, and wishing to tear it out of our habits He says to Moses: «Teach the children of Israel good deeds». For it is reckless to enter a battle beyond one’s strength; this is a way of acting foreign to God.

Therefore one should not join the tumults of the city when one has no skill in fighting, but flee from them as far as possible, guarding one’s thoughts from the noise. There is little profit for those who withdraw from things and then gather rumours about them, and who, leaving the city, sit at its gate like Lot (cf. Gen 19:1), full of the confusion that reigns there. A man should withdraw from the city altogether, like the great Moses, who said: «As soon as I go out of the city, I will spread out my hands to the Lord, and the thunder will cease» (cf. Ex 9:29). True stillness comes when not only the actions but also the memory of them falls silent. Then the soul will have leisure to consider the images imprinted upon it, and will be able to work against each of them and cut it off.

When other images keep coming, it is impossible to erase the earlier ones, because the mind is occupied with the present ones. Men have to labour hard to destroy the passions, for these come with the force of constant multiplication and, like a spring that bursts ceaselessly from the earth, flood the soul with a constant stream of notions. A man who wants to see a river run dry, so as to see what lies at the bottom that is worth knowing, gains nothing by drawing off water at the place where he thinks he will find what he wants; for when he has emptied it, it is filled again from the source. But when the source dries up, it will be easy to reach the bottom, for the water will recede of itself and the ground will dry, and then what he sought will be visible.

In this way it is easy to stop the working images of the passions, when the senses cease to feed them from outside. When the senses bring in images from without like a current, then it is not only difficult but impossible to clear the mind of such turbulence. And although the passions do not trouble us while we are in frequent conversation, since there is no time for them to stir, yet, hidden as they are, they grow and gain strength with time. Ground that is often walked upon, even though it holds the shoots of thorns, does not let them come up; but the thorn puts down strong roots deep in the earth, and when the opportunity comes, it springs up.

So too the passions: when frequent conversation does not let them come out, they grow stronger; and when stillness comes, they come with force and drive the man who has neglected the struggle into a hard and painful battle. That is why the prophet commands us to destroy the Babylonian brood, that is, the images, while they are still in the storehouse of the senses, so that these thoughts may not fall to the ground and sprout and, watered by the abundant useless rains of unceasing activity, bear the fruits of sin. And another prophet blesses those who do not wait for the passions to blossom but destroy their shoots: «Blessed is he who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock» (Ps 136:9).

And the great Job, wise in himself, hints at the same thing: «Does the reed grow without a marsh? Does the rush grow in a dry place? All evil dries up when the spring is dried up, and the ant-lion dies when there is no prey». The great Job, wishing to show how passion attacks, called it an ant-lion, joining the name of the bravest of beasts to that of the feeblest of insects, because the assaults of passion begin with small fantasies that come imperceptibly like an ant, while their consequences are very grave and the danger from them is no less than from the attack of a lion. Therefore the ascetic should fight the passion when it comes like an ant, luring him with something trifling; for when it has grown to the strength of a lion, it is not easy to defeat and it is impossible not to feed it.

And the food of passion, as we have said more than once, consists of the images of sensible things that enter the soul through the senses. These feed the passions, arming every fantasy against the soul. Therefore the Lawgiver commanded that the tabernacle be made of ten curtains (cf. Ex 26:1), which means that we must keep our thoughts pure as a temple. And just as there are lattices on the windows of the temple so that nothing unclean may enter, so the senses must be barred by the thought of the Judgment to come, which blocks the entrance against impure fantasies. Was it not for this reason that Ahaziah fell ill, because he fell through the lattice (cf. 2 Kgs 1:2)? To give no thought to retribution when temptation comes is to be brought low by the passions and to «fall through the lattice».

What could be worse than such a sickness? Sickness of the body means that the balance of the bodily elements is disturbed, one element prevailing over the others; and sickness of the soul comes about when the soul shrinks from righteous thought and is overcome by the passions that make it ill. Solomon blocked the eyes of the man who is able to hear, saying: «Your eyes will see strange things, and your heart will utter nonsense» (Prov 23:33). By nonsense he means what will befall us after sin at the time of retribution. Thought about this, and a right disposition of mind, keep the eyes from looking at what endangers the soul.

It is also said what the structure of our thought should be at such a time: «And you will be like one who sleeps in the midst of the sea, or like one who lies at the top of a mast» (Prov 23:34). When a man fights against what provokes his sight and can remember the torment to come as a man at sea remembers the storm, then he will easily overcome those who attack him, without feeling the wounds they inflict. Of such a man it is said: «They struck me, but I was not hurt; they beat me, but I knew nothing of it». «They struck me — says he — and thought to mock me, but I did not feel their blows, for their blows were like the arrow of a child. I did not even notice their flattery and behaved as though they did not exist». So David, despising these adversaries, says: «I did not know the crooked man who turned aside from me» (cf. Ps 100:4), that is, he did not notice either when his adversaries came or when they left.

And who does not know that the senses are in close converse with sensible things, and that from such converse delusion easily arises? He who does not suspect what harm may come of it — how will he understand, when he meets delusion, that this is an attack of the enemy, if he has not first learned to distinguish between them? That the senses do battle with sensible things, and that sensible things, when they win, impose tribute upon the senses, is plain from the war between the Assyrians and the men of Sodom. Scripture tells how four kings of the Assyrian nation fought against five kings who dwelt around Sodom. At first there was an agreement between them, an alliance and peace offerings near the Salt Sea; then the five kings served the conqueror for twelve years, and in the thirteenth year they rebelled (cf. Gen 14:3-4); and in the fourteenth year the four fought against the five and took them captive (cf. Gen 14:9).

Such is the end of the story, and from it we learn about ourselves and how the senses do battle with sensible things. Each of us, from birth to the age of twelve, has not yet purified his prudence, and so our senses serve sensible things as servants serve their masters: sight serves visible things, hearing sounds, taste liquids, smell odours, and touch all the sensible things that can be handled. Because of his youth a man is not able to approach any of his senses with discernment. But when prudence begins to mature and to feel the harm that comes from sensible things, a man at once thinks of renouncing them and escaping from their service. And if a man is strong in prudence, he will be free for ever, for he will escape those cruel masters.

But when prudence is too weak, it will hand over the captive senses into the power of sensible things, and they will have to live once more in heavy slavery with no hope of anything better. Therefore in the story the five defeated kings fall into pits of bitumen (cf. Gen 14:10), so that we may learn that those who have been defeated by sensible things find themselves as it were in pits or wells, one for each sense — since each sense serves some sensible thing — and they turn towards the sensible. They think of nothing but visible things, for their desires are bound up with earthly things, and they have loved the enjoyment of earthly things more than the enjoyment of things of the mind.

In the same way a slave who loved his master, his wife and his children renounces true freedom for the sake of family ties and becomes a slave for ever, and his ear is pierced with an awl (cf. Ex 21:5-6), so that he may never again receive the words of freedom through the natural opening of the ear, but may remain a slave for ever because of his love of the present. Therefore, when two men fight and a woman seizes one of them by the private parts, the law commands that her hand be cut off (cf. Dt 25:11). For when the long battle was about the choice between earthly and heavenly goods, she abandoned that choice and grasped at what serves generation and decay, since this part of the body is intended for childbearing.

There is no use in the renunciation of irresolute men who are led and taught by their own thought, for they often return to what they renounced and reveal their passion, like the wife of Lot. She looked behind her, and therefore she was turned into a pillar of salt (cf. Gen 19:26), and she stands to this day as a warning to the unbelieving. Such is habit, of which Lot’s wife is the symbol: habit draws back to itself those who wish to withdraw from it.

That is why the law commands those who enter the temple, when they have finished their prayer, to leave not by the door through which they came in but by the opposite one, so that they may not turn back but go forward. Does this not mean that on the road to virtue one must not turn aside from the path through doubts? Frequent returns to what we have left behind induce us to go back, weaken the impulse to move forward and incline us to return to our old sins. Habit is strong enough to hold a man within itself and to prevent his return to the practice of virtue. Skill comes from habit, habit becomes nature, and nature is hard to change or refashion. When nature is compelled to deviate a little, it at once turns back; yet, torn out of its own limits, it does not reach perfection unless it retraces its steps with great effort in order to pass from a mere habit to a good and settled skill.

Consider the soul that lives according to its habits: how it sits upon idols, attached to things that have no form of their own, refusing to follow the training that would lead it to the heights, and saying: «I cannot rise before you, for the way of women is upon me» (cf. Gen 31:35). Such is the soul that has long comforted itself with worldly things and sits upon that which in itself has no form but receives it through human skill. Wealth and fame and other worldly things have no form; there is nothing clear and defined in them. They counterfeit truth with a deceptive appearance and change in various ways every day.

We ourselves give form to things when in our thoughts we ascribe some benefit to what is useless. We satisfy the needs of the body with costly inventions, preparing food seasoned with countless delicacies and wearing bright clothes for luxury and pleasure; and when we are reproached with this vanity, that we spend uselessly on lavish banquets when we could make do with little, we justify ourselves as though we had to do so. What are we doing but giving form to things that have none? We were right to say that such a soul sits upon idols. The soul firmly persuaded of what has been said clings to these things, that is, it serves habit and not truth, and by these habits, as by an impurity, it defiles its own nature. In Scripture, sitting signifies idleness in good works and love of pleasure.

Scripture speaks of idleness when it mentions those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death (cf. Is 9:2), bound in poverty and iron, because darkness and iron prevent them from acting. And it speaks of gluttony when it recalls those who returned to Egypt in their hearts and said to one another: «We sat around the pots of meat and ate to our fill» (cf. Ex 16:3). And indeed men given to pleasure sit around the cauldron, inflaming desire with a voluptuous and unceasing heat; and gluttony is the mother of self-indulgence. It gives birth to evil desire, and other passions follow; from it, as from a root, other passions sprout, gradually joining the desire that bore them and sending their shoots up to the very heavens.

For love of money, and rage, and sadness are the offspring and shoots of gluttony. The glutton needs wealth to satisfy his hunger for food, and he is never satisfied; and when wealth cannot be gathered, rage rises up. Rage is inevitably followed by sadness, when through weakness the rage cannot be turned into action. For he who goes upon his breast and upon his belly, when he has within his reach the things that bring him pleasure, goes upon his belly; and when he has them not, he moves upon his breast, from which rage comes. Men fond of delicacies grow angry and take offence when they are deprived of them.

That is why the great Moses puts the breastplate of judgment upon the breast of the priest (cf. Ex 28), showing figuratively that the impulses of hidden rage must be directed by thought. The breastplate of judgment is the word of discernment. The priest restrains his rage by prudence, because he is imperfect; but the perfect Moses keeps all rage far from himself: he does not wear the breastplate of judgment but offers the breast in sacrifice, for it is said: «Moses took the breast and offered it as a sacrifice before the Lord» (cf. Lev 8:29). Others have not yet restrained all their fury and do not curb their passions by prudence, but overcome them by hard labour; these are they who offer the breast and the shoulder, for the shoulder is a sign of action and toil.

To go upon the belly is the surest sign of self-indulgence, since the belly is the cause of it. When the stomach is full, desires and other passions grow strong; when it is empty, they are quieter and more peaceful. And here lies the difference between those who are still struggling and those who are perfect. For Moses, rejecting the enjoyment of food altogether, «washed the entrails and the legs» (cf. Lev 9:14) — by the entrails we should here understand pleasure, and by the legs self-indulgence. But the man who is still in the contest washes what is within the entrails and not the entrails themselves. And there is a further difference: «he washed» and «it must be washed» do not mean the same thing; the first is voluntary, the second is by command.

The perfect man undertakes the fulfilment of the virtues of his own free will, while the man still striving does so at the urging of a guide, and watches zealously to see that the breast is set apart and the entrails washed. A wise man can reject and cut off all rage, but he cannot cut off the entrails. Nature compels even the most restrained man to eat proper food; and those who do not follow the righteous and firm word of the soul, but are corrupted by filthy delicacies, have a burning stomach. And since the body is filled with such contents, desire cannot quench its thirst, and then, after the inflaming of the belly, «the womb withers» (cf. Num 5:21). The mind becomes powerless to bring forth good deeds; the stomach, inflamed by a multitude of dishes, destroys spiritual efforts — this is what Scripture means by the withering of the womb.

That is why the glutton goes upon his belly, for he bends wholly towards the delights of pleasure. He who has begun a life of virtue separates the fat from the entrails, refusing the food that fattens the body; the ascetic washes out what is in the stomach; and the perfect man washes out the whole belly, casting away everything superfluous. Rightly does Scripture say: «You shall go upon your breast and belly». Pleasure does not belong to those who stand firm, but to those who are in motion and full of confusion.

Closest to the power of gluttony is the power that moves the desires of unchastity. Therefore, wishing to show the nature of these passions, nature placed the organs of generation below the belly, thereby indicating their closeness. When this passion is weak, that is because of the weakness of the stomach; but when it is inflamed and stirred up, its strength comes from the stomach. Gluttony nourishes and feeds not only the passions of unchastity; it destroys everything good. When this passion grows in men and gains the mastery over them, it will ruin and destroy all good habits: temperance, moderation, courage, patience and every other virtue.

The prophet Jeremiah illustrated this, saying: «The Chaldean army that was with the captain of the guard broke down all the walls around Jerusalem» (cf. Jer 52:14). By the captain of the guard he means the passion of gluttony. For as the captain strives with all his might to serve the belly and invents every kind of device, finding countless delicacies for it, so gluttony contrives in every way to find delicacies for the throat; and the variety of dishes destroys the support of the virtues. Delicacies and seasonings become an obstacle even to a virtue that has grown strong and bring it to ruin, shaking its strength and firmness and throwing it down. As excess destroys the virtues, so moderation destroys the resistance of the vices.

Just as the Babylonian guard destroyed the wall of Jerusalem, that is, of peaceful souls, by stirring up carnal pleasures through the art of cookery, so the barley loaf, rolling down, destroyed the tents of Midian (cf. Judg 7:13). Simple food destroys the desires of unchastity. The Midianites are a figure of the passion of unchastity, for they introduced unchastity into Israel and overthrew a great host of young men. It is very aptly said in Scripture that the Midianites live in tents, while Jerusalem is surrounded by a wall. For everything that contains virtue is firm and sure, while everything that contains malice is mere appearance and shadow, differing in nothing from delusion.

That is why the saints avoided cities and much conversation more than a contagious disease, for they saw that living with dissolute men leads to ruin. Therefore they took nothing with them; they left all their property behind and did not even look back at it. So Elijah left Judaea and lived on Mount Carmel (cf. 1 Kgs 18:19), a desert full of wild animals, where there was nothing to eat but the fruit of the trees; and he ate this fruit, satisfying the body’s need. Elisha lived in almost the same way, taking over from his teacher, along with other good habits, the love of the desert life. And John dwelt in the wilderness of the Jordan and ate locusts and wild honey, showing many how few the needs of the body truly are and rebuking the pursuit of pleasure.

And Moses, when he gave the Israelites the law about the manna, commanded them to gather it for one day only (cf. Ex 16:4), indicating by this that a man should live for one day and not lay up provisions for the next. For he considered that what a man has is enough for a rational being, and that when he gives away what is superfluous he confesses God. It seems that those who prepare supplies in advance do not believe in God’s providence and God’s grace, as though it did not always send its gifts to men.

In short, this is why all the saints, «of whom the world was not worthy, wandered in deserts and mountains, in caves and holes of the earth; they went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, afflicted, ill-treated» (cf. Heb 11:37-38), avoiding the fiercest malice of men and the vain, fleeting things of which the cities are full, so that the force of vanity might not sweep them up and carry them into a whirlpool of confusion. They were glad to live beside wild beasts, because beasts do less harm than men. They thought it better to flee from men, who are treacherous, and to trust beasts as friends, since beasts do not teach us to sin but on the contrary marvel at virtue and honour it. The saints recalled that Daniel was condemned to death by men but saved by the lions — the lions saved the man unjustly condemned out of hatred and preserved the truth that men had left unrewarded.

The lions executed a righteous judgment upon the unjustly condemned, so that this man’s virtue became for men a cause of hatred and enmity, and for beasts a cause of respect and honour. Let whoever among us feels love for a better life imitate the virtues of the saints and, withdrawing from the servile commands of the flesh, overtake freedom and run after the wild ass which its Creator set free (cf. Job 39:5), which scorns the shouting of the driver in the city and does not hear the cry of the taskmaster. If until now we have taught it to carry burdens, yoked to the passions and sins, today we can free it from its bonds. Though those who have become its masters not by nature but by habit will object to us, yet when they hear how we ask for it not with the tongue and the voice alone but with our inward disposition, saying that «the Lord has need of it» (Mk 11:3), they will at once let it go, so that, adorned with apostolic garments, it may become a bearer of the Word, or, left in its pasture, may seek out every green thing — that is, so that we may follow the flowering words of the Divine Scripture, making our way towards a life that is strange to the world and finding there both food and great delight.

And you must also consider how this wild ass, which God left in the desert, seeks out every green thing, having for its home the steppe and the salt flats, where almost nothing can grow. Unless one should say that for a man free of the passions it is enough to seek the contemplation of divine things, so as to dry up by this the moisture of the passions.

Let us leave worldly matters and turn to what is good for the soul. How long shall we play children’s games and refuse to think as men? So long as our zeal is weaker than the zeal of children, shall we not learn even from them how to succeed in great things? As they grow up they leave their games and easily rid themselves of their fondness for toys. Perhaps in childhood they loved little horses and whistling carts and were passionate about them while they were still small and games were the best thing they knew; but when the child grows up and becomes a man, he casts games aside and turns his zeal to other things. Yet we have remained in childhood, marvelling at things worthy only of play and laughter, and we are in no hurry to pass on to better things and to accept the thoughts that befit men. We remain among earthly pleasures, provoking the laughter of those who look at everything with discernment, according to their age.

It is shameful to see a grown man sitting in the dust and drawing in the sand like a child; and it is more shameful still to see men who might enjoy eternal goods lying in the dust, dishonouring the perfection of their vow by the unworthiness of their deeds. And the reason for this is that we think of nothing beyond the visible; we do not compare the poverty of present goods with the riches of those to come; we are dazzled by the brilliance of the goods that are counted honourable here, and our longings are fastened upon them. It always happens that when there is nothing better in view, the worse is held in honour and takes the place of the better. If we had a higher understanding of the goods to come, we would not look back at the present.

So let us begin to withdraw from the present; let us despise possessions and wealth and everything that drowns thought and drags it down by its weight. Let us throw some cargo overboard to lighten the ship. When a storm comes, let us cast away a few things, so that the helmsman, the mind, and the passengers, our thoughts, may be saved. When a storm comes, sailors pay no attention to property and throw their burdens into the sea with their own hands, because their lives are more precious than their goods. They throw even the most costly things into the sea, so that the ship, weighed down with cargo, may not fill with water. Why then, for the sake of life, do we not despise what drags the soul down?

Why has the fear of God not the same power over us as the fear of the sea? Those who wish to preserve this temporal life do not greatly grieve over the loss of their possessions; but we say that we desire eternal life, and yet we do not despise the temporal — we would rather perish in time than be saved by losing everything. Therefore I beg you: let us throw everything off, for our enemy has nothing upon him. Wrestlers go out to fight without clothing; the law of wrestling brings them naked into the arena. Whether it is hot or cold, they lay aside their garments; and when one of them refuses to take off his clothes, he refuses to fight.

We have vowed to fight, and to fight against enemies far stronger than human ones; yet not only have we not stripped off our clothing, but we carry many burdens on our shoulders and try to fight while we ourselves hand our enemies weapons to use against us. How will a man fight against evil spirits when he is seeking wealth — a man who can be attacked easily from every side? How will he who possesses wealth fight against the spirit of avarice? How will one who is bound by countless troubles go out to battle against demons who are naked of all trouble? The Divine Scriptures say: «He who is naked shall flee in that day» (Am 2:16). Naked is the man who is not clothed in the many garments of anxiety about the affairs of life; naked is the man whose movement is not checked by heavy thoughts of property and wealth. It is not easy for wrongdoers to catch such a man, if it is possible at all.

If the great Joseph had been naked, the Egyptian woman would have had nothing to seize, as the word of God says: «She caught him by his garment and said: Lie with me!» (Gen 39:12). The garments are bodily things, by which passion drags us along. Those who have not yet rid themselves of them, it draws to itself. Joseph, an ascetic before the whole world, seeing that the body’s need was pulling him by force towards union and gratification, understood that he must be naked in the presence of his mistress, so that she might not hold him fast and compel him. He fled, throwing off his garment, and went out, walking naked in virtue as in paradise, following the first Adam, who received nakedness from God as a special honour, until through disobedience he had need of clothing.

While Adam was fighting against the enemies who advised him to break God’s commandment, so long was he naked, like a wrestler in the arena. When he was defeated and afraid, then he received clothing: having given up the struggle, he lost his nakedness. That is why the wise Solomon says: «Take his garment, for he is coming» (cf. Prov 20:16). So long as he was outside the arena, he wore the fine clothing of those who do not fight, covering the courage of a wrestler with garments of sense. But if he comes to fight, then take away his garment: he must fight naked, and not merely naked but anointed with oil.

It is not easy for an opponent to seize a naked wrestler, and even if he does, an anointed wrestler easily breaks free. Therefore opponents try to sprinkle each other with dust, so that the body may be less slippery and easier to grip. And what dust is in wrestling, that earthly things are in our contest; and what oil is there, that the disregard of earthly things is here. As a man anointed with oil easily breaks out of his enemy’s hands, while a man sprinkled with dust cannot easily get free, so here too it is not easy for the devil to seize the man who is anxious about nothing; but he who worries and struggles weighs down the lightness of his mind as with dust, and cannot easily escape the devil’s devices.

Freedom from care is the mark of a perfect soul; an imperfect soul is weighed down with troubles. Of the perfect soul it is said: «As a lily among thorns» (Song 2:2), which means a soul that lives free from care among those who are anxious about many things. In the Gospel too the lily signifies a soul free from care, for it is said of the lilies that they «neither toil nor spin, yet even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these» (Lk 12:27).

And of those who have many troubles it is said: «The whole life of the ungodly is spent in troubles». For this is truly an ungodly thing: to spend one’s whole life in anxiety about bodily matters and never even think of the life to come; to give all one’s time to the body, though it does not need much time, and to give not the least portion to the soul, which needs so long to advance that a whole lifetime is not enough for it to become perfect. And although it seems to us that we do give some time to our souls, yet we do it carelessly and negligently, because we are led astray by the vanity of visible things. We suffer the same fate as those who are seduced by ugly harlots, who, having no natural beauty, cunningly disguise themselves to deceive the passers-by.

And when the vanity of present things has once overcome us, we become unable to see their shamefulness, driven as we are by passion. Therefore we do not stop at satisfying our necessary needs, but want to arrange a life of abundance for ourselves and take pleasure in all sorts of acquisitions. We do not see that the measure of what the body requires determines the need for possessions, and that whatever exceeds that measure is already unfitting. A tunic that fits the body both adorns it and serves a need; but a long tunic that tangles the legs and drags on the ground is unsightly and gets in the way of everything.

In the same way, possessions that exceed the needs of the body are an obstacle to virtue and will meet with great condemnation from those who know how to discern the nature of things. Therefore we must not listen to those who have been brought up on things of sense, nor unwisely follow those who do not know how to dwell among the things of the mind and are therefore passionate about temporal things. That would be like consulting the blind about colours and the deaf about music — that is, consulting those who cannot judge and trusting them as though they had wisely chosen to be content with present goods. The blind are those whose minds lack the power to weigh things carefully and dispassionately.

One of these was Achan, the son of Carmi, who confessed to Joshua in the tent before the people that he had buried the stolen goods in the ground, with the silver lying underneath (cf. Josh 7:21). He who takes precious and glittering objects for higher things, and hides his mind beneath them, is reduced to the level of dumb creatures, obeying things and dreaming of them, because his mind has come down from the throne of authority and found itself in the rank of slaves — and moreover of condemned slaves. If it had remained in its place and had judged all things, as was entrusted to it, then it would have passed sentence rightly and truly, checking the impulse towards delusion. It is a good thing to stay within the limits of need and to strive with all one’s might not to exceed them.

For when a man yields even a little to the desire for worldly pleasures, no amount of reasoning will keep him from rushing further on. What is beyond need has no limits. Irresponsibility and endless idle activity always spread the desire for what is unnecessary, as fire spreads when wood is thrown on it. Having once crossed the boundary of natural need, men begin to seek their success in earthly life: instead of bread they want some pleasant dish, instead of water wine, and expensive wine at that; they will not wear worn-out clothing but buy new garments of fine wool, choosing even the colour. From woollen clothes they pass to fabrics woven with linen, then they look for silk garments, at first plain and afterwards adorned with pictures of battles and animals and scenes from various stories. Silver and gilded vessels are bought, used not only at meals but even set before animals and beside the bed.

How can we speak of moderation amid such extravagance, when the extravagance extends even to the lowest needs? Even the vessels used for the body’s refuse may not be plain, and silver must serve so shameful a purpose. Self-indulgence reaches its furthest limits: objects destined for dishonour are honoured by the costliness of their material. And this is already contrary to nature. Life according to nature is what the Creator established for us and for the animals: «Behold, I have given you — God said to men — every plant yielding seed upon all the earth… for food» (Gen 1:29).

We have received for ourselves the same food as the dumb animals and have turned it into luxury by our inventions: are we not then more senseless than they? For the animals remain within natural limits and violate none of God’s commandments, while we, honoured with reason, have departed altogether from the ancient law. Do animals have dishes? Do the inventions of bakers and cooks prepare delights for their bellies? Do they not remain in their primitive simplicity, eating grass, content with little, drinking water from the spring — and even that not often?

By living so they diminish the pleasures below the belly, not inflaming desire with rich food, and they do not know the difference between male and female. Only one season of the year reminds them of that difference, when the law of nature gathers them to propagate their kind. At other seasons they are as estranged from one another as though they knew nothing whatever of such desire. But in men, because of refined food, an insatiable passion of unchastity grows, filling them with wild desires and not letting the passion be quiet even for a moment.

Therefore, if the acquisition of property is so harmful and provides an excuse for all the passions, being the cause of this sickness, let us destroy that cause if we want our soul to be in a good state. Let us heal the passion of avarice by acquiring nothing, and let us avoid useless gatherings of men, welcoming solitude.

Living amid the bustle of men is harmful to a peaceful order of life and destroys it. Just as those exposed to infected air fall ill with various diseases, so those who live with careless men become partakers of their malice. What have those who have renounced the world in common with the world? «No soldier on service gets entangled in the affairs of this life, if he wants to please the one who enlisted him» (2 Tim 2:4). The affairs of life do not allow a man to take up the labours of a soldier. And without experience, how shall we fight against the experienced?

Yet the truth must be told: we fight so lazily and carelessly that even when our enemy has fallen we cannot overcome him; and even when we are still standing, we are attacked by the enemy we have defeated. Those who for the sake of gain strip the slain after a battle often perish themselves at the hands of men lying on the field, even if they gather some worthless plunder. The same thing happens to us when we approach a defeated enemy who is barely breathing.

As those who, desiring wealth, strip the dead and, coming upon someone still alive and beginning to tear at him, often suffer a mortal blow, foolishly dishonouring the glory of their victory, so we, when we have defeated the barbarian by all our courage and self-control — or think we have — then, snatching at his clothing, that is, at what men count honourable: money, power, good repute, we approach him to take something from him, and so we die, delivering ourselves up to slaughter.

So died five virgins who had defeated the enemy by their purity, but through the unkindness of heart born of avarice threw themselves upon his sword, though before that the defeated enemy could not destroy them, because they stood firm. Therefore desire nothing from him, lest you destroy your soul together with his goods. He still calls out to everyone and seeks out the most faithful; for he called even the Lord Himself, saying: «All this I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me» (Mt 4:9). If he tries to mislead with what is counted necessary and glorious in life the One who has no need of it, what shall we say of men who are inclined to enjoy the things of sense — will he not lead them astray?

Let us practise godliness, if we have made progress in the bodily contest. «Bodily exercise is of some profit, but godliness is profitable for all things» (cf. 1 Tim 4:8); it establishes a good order in the soul of those who wish to defeat the enemies that are the passions. Just as it befits wrestlers to exercise their bodies even in the games of childhood, to move about much, to learn courage and strength and so prepare for their contests, so it befits those who are beginning the contest of godliness to stop the working of the passions.

It is also important for them — if they have already mastered their passions, while the desires among which they grew up still provoke them and entice them to their habitual deeds, and if they have already attained active virtue and watch over their thoughts — to guard their minds with all vigilance, so that the mind, moving in disorder, may not sink into something imperfect. In short, the first try to control the movements of the body, and the second to restrain their thoughts and to direct them towards a single, all-wise life, so that no worldly daydreaming may distract the mind from divine thoughts.

He who desires the things of godliness must direct all his energies towards what he desires, so that there may be no time for ordinary human thoughts to work upon passion. Every passion, when it stirs in the man it possesses, holds his thought captive; why then should zeal for virtue not keep his thoughts free? When a man has been wronged, does he pay attention to any outward stimulus, while his thoughts are struggling with the image of the man who wronged him?

So it is with the man who desires wealth: when such dreams seize him, he looks only at the things that bring him profit. A man given to unchastity often talks with others about something, but hides his feelings within and, holding the desired image in his mind, carries on a conversation with it, forgetting everything around him; he sits like a voiceless pillar, knowing nothing of what is done or said before him, wholly absorbed in his own notions. The law may call such a soul one that sits apart, since it is far from its own senses, engrossed in its own affairs and receiving nothing from outside, because it is overwhelmed by impure fantasies.

If such inclinations can hold the thought in this way for the sake of passion and set it free from the senses, how much more does the love of wisdom carry the mind up to the highest heights, free it from the senses and from everything sensible, and teach it to contemplate the world of the mind! As in a man who is being burned or cut the thought will not go beyond his suffering, because the pain obscures everything, so he who thinks of something with passion cannot think of anything but what his passion drives him to.

Where there is pain there is no room for work; where there is sorrow, none for joy; where there is grief, none for cheerfulness. Hard labour brings no pleasure, great joy is not combined with sorrow, nor sorrow with cheerfulness. All these are opposite passions; they never combine into one and are not inclined to friendship with each other, because irreconcilable hostility and estrangement are rooted in their nature.

Therefore let the purity of virtue not be darkened by thoughts of worldly things, and let the clarity of contemplation not be clouded by troubles, so that the image of the true wise man may shine in its own beauty and not be scorned by presumptuous lips, nor become a matter for ridicule through the ignorance of those who write of it; but let him be praised, if not by men, then by the heavenly powers or even by the Lord Christ Himself, from whom even the saints seek their praise. The great David, having trampled upon human glory, sought praise from God, saying: «My praise is in You, and in the Lord shall my soul rejoice». Men often slander what is good out of envy, but the Lord judges by deeds, without respect of persons, and evaluates our works justly. Let the pleasure of our good deeds delight His sight.

As for men, who can neither reward good deeds nor punish bad ones, there is no need to say much, although through envy or passion they obscure virtuous deeds with evil words and slander with their blasphemy a life that is known to God and the angels. For at the time of reward those who have lived virtuously will receive their recompense not from human judgment but from God Himself — which may He grant to us also by the grace and everlasting love of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.