THE THIRD PART OF THE CONFERENCES OF JOHN
CASSIAN.
CONFERENCE OF ABBOT PIAMUN.
ON THE THREE SORTS OF MONKS.
Complete Contents.
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How we came to Diolcos and were received by Abbot
Piamun.[2]
AFTER visiting and conversing with those three Elders, whose
Conferences we have at the instance of our brother Eucherius tried to
describe, as we were still more ardently desirous to seek out the
further parts of Egypt, in which a larger and more perfect company of
saints dwelt, we came--urged not so much by the necessities of our
journey as by the desire of visiting the saints who were dwelling
there--to a village named Diolcos,[3]
lying on one of the seven mouths of the river Nile. For when we heard
of very many and very celebrated monasteries founded by the ancient
fathers, like most eager merchants, at once we undertook the journey
on an uncertain quest, urged on by the hope of greater gain. And when
we wandered about there for some long time and fixed our curious eyes
on those mountains of virtue conspicuous for their lofty height, the
gaze of those around first singled out Abbot Piamun, the senior of all
the anchorites living there and their presbyter, as if he were some
tall lighthouse. For he was set on the top of a high mountain like
that city in the gospel,[4] and at once
shed his light on our faces, whose virtues and miracles, which were
wrought by him under our very eyes, Divine Grace thus bearing witness
to his excellence, if we are not to exceed the plan and limits of this
volume, we feel we must pass over in silence. For we promised to
commit to memory what we could recollect, not of the miracles of God,
but of the institutes and pursuits of the saints, so as to supply our
readers merely with necessary instruction for the perfect life, and
not with matter for idle and useless admiration without any correction
of their faults. And so when Abbot Piamun had received us with
welcome, and had refreshed us with becoming kindness, as he understood
that we were not of the same country, he first asked us anxiously
whence or why we had visited Egypt, and when he discovered that we had
come thither from a monastery in Syria out of desire for perfection he
began as follows: --
The words of Abbot Piamun, how monks who were
novices ought to be taught by the example of their elders.
WHATEVER man, my children, is desirous to attain skill in any art,
unless he gives himself up with the utmost pains and carefulness to
the study of that system which he is anxious to learn, and observes
the rules and orders of the best masters of that work or science, is
indulging in a vain hope to reach by idle wishes any similarity to
those whose pains and diligence he avoids copying. For we know that
some have come from your country to these parts, only to go round the
monasteries for the sake of getting to know the brethren, not meaning
to adopt the rules and regulations, for the sake of which they
travelled hither, nor to retire to the cells and aim at carrying out
in action what they had learnt by sight or by teaching. And these
people retained their character and pursuits to which they had grown
accustomed, and, as is thrown in their teeth by some, are held to have
changed their country not for the sake of their profit, but owing to
the need of escaping want. For in the obstinacy of their stubborn
mind, they not only could learn nothing, but actually would not stay
any longer in these parts. For if they changed neither their method
of fasting, nor their scheme of Psalms, nor even the fashion of their
garments, what else could we think that they were after in this
country, except only the supply of their victuals.
How the juniors ought not to discuss the orders of
the seniors.
WHEREFORE if, as we believe, the cause of God has drawn you to try to
copy our knowledge, you must utterly ignore all the rules by which
your early beginnings were trained, and must with all humility follow
whatever you see our Elders do or teach. And do not be troubled or
drawn away and diverted from imitating it, even if for the moment the
cause or reason of any deed or action is not clear to you, because if
men have good and simple ideas on all things and are anxious
faithfully to copy whatever they see taught or done by their Elders,
instead of discussing it, then the knowledge of all things will follow
through experience of the work. But he will never enter into the
reason of the truth, who begins to learn by discussion, because as the
enemy sees that he trusts to his own judgment rather than to that of
the fathers' he easily urges him on so far till those things which are
especially useful and helpful seem to him unnecessary or injurious,
and the crafty foe so plays upon his presumption, that by obstinately
clinging to his own opinion he persuades himself that only that is
holy, which he himself in his pig-headed error thinks to be good and
right.
Of the three sorts of monks which there are in
Egypt.
WHEREFORE you should first hear how or whence the system and beginning
of our order took its rise. For only then can a man at all
effectually be trained in any art he may wish, and be urged on to
practise it diligently, when he has learnt the glory of its authors
and founders. There are three kinds of monks in Egypt, of which two
are admirable, the third is a poor sort of thing and by all means to
be avoided. The first is that of the coenobites, who live
together in a congregation and are governed by the direction of a
single Elder: and of this kind there is the largest number of monks
dwelling throughout the whole of Egypt. The second is that of the
anchorites, who were first trained in the coenobium and then
being made perfect in practical life chose the recesses of the desert:
and in this order we also hope to gain a place. The third is the
reprehensible one of the Sarabaites.[5] And of these we will discourse more
fully one by one in order. Of these three orders then you ought, as
we said, first to know about the founders. For at once from this
there may arise either a hatred for the order which is to be avoided,
or a longing for that which is to be followed, because each way is
sure to carry the man who follows it, to that end which its author and
discoverer has reached.
Of the founders who originated the order of
coenobites.
AND so the system of coenobites took its rise in the days of the
preaching of the Apostles. For such was all that multitude of
believers in Jerusalem, which is thus described in the Acts of the
Apostles: "But the multitude of believers was of one heart and
one soul, neither said any of them that any of the things which he
possessed was his own, but they had all things common. They sold their
possessions and property and divided them to all, as any man had
need." And again: "For neither was there any among them
that lacked; for as many as possessed fields or houses, sold them and
brought the price of the things that they sold and laid them before
the feet of the Apostles: and distribution was made to every man as he
had need."[6] The whole Church, I
say, was then such as now are those few who can be found with
difficulty in coenobia. But when at the death of the Apostles the
multitude of believers began to wax cold, and especially that
multitude which had come to the faith of Christ from diverse foreign
nations, from whom the Apostles out of consideration for the infancy
of their faith and their ingrained heathen habits, required nothing
more than that they should "abstain from things sacrificed to
idols and from fornication, and from things strangled, and from
blood,"[7] and so that liberty
which was conceded to the Gentiles because of the weakness of their
newly-born faith, had by degrees begun to mar the perfection of that
Church which existed at Jerusalem, and the fervour of that early faith
cooled down owing to the daily increasing number both of natives and
foreigners, and not only those who had accepted the faith of Christ,
but even those who were the leaders of the Church relaxed somewhat of
that strictness. For some fancying that what they saw permitted to
the Gentiles because of their weakness, was also allowable for
themselves, thought that they would suffer no loss if they followed
the faith and confession of Christ keeping their property and
possessions. But those who still maintained the fervour of the
apostles, mindful of that former perfection left their cities and
intercourse with those who thought that carelessness and a laxer life
was permissible to themselves and the Church of God, and began to live
in rural and more sequestered spots, and there, in private and on
their own account, to practise those things which they had learnt to
have been ordered by the apostles throughout the whole body of the
Church in general: and so that whole system of which we have spoken
grew up from those disciples who had separated themselves from the
evil that was spreading. And these, as by degrees time went on, were
separated from the great mass of believers and because they abstained
from marriage and cut themselves off from intercourse with their
kinsmen and the life of this world, were termed monks or solitaries
from the strictness of their lonely and solitary life. Whence it
followed that from their common life they were called coenobites and
their cells and lodgings coenobia. That then alone was the earliest
kind of monks, which is first not only in time but also in grace, and
which continued unbroken for a very long period up to the time of
Abbot Paul and Antony; and even to this day we see its traces
remaining in strict coenobia.
Of the system of the Anchorites and its
beginning.
OUT of this number of the perfect, and, if I may use the expression,
this most fruitful root of saints, were produced afterwards the
flowers and fruits of the anchorites as well. And of this order we
have heard that the originators were those whom we mentioned just now;
viz., Saint Paul[8] and Antony, men who
frequented the recesses of the desert, not as some from
faintheartedness, and the evil of impatience, but from a desire for
loftier heights of perfection and divine contemplation, although the
former of them is said to have found his way to the desert by reason
of necessity, while during the time of persecution he was avoiding the
plots of his neighbours. So then there sprang from that system of
which we have spoken another sort of perfection, whose followers are
rightly termed anchorites; i.e., withdrawers, because, being by no
means satisfied with that victory whereby they had trodden under foot
the hidden snares of the devil, while still living among men, they
were eager to fight with the devils in open conflict, and a
straightforward battle, and so feared not to penetrate the vast
recesses of the desert, imitating, to wit, John the Baptist, who
passed all his life in the desert, and Elijah and Elisha and those of
whom the Apostle speaks as follows: "They wandered about in
sheepskins and goatskins, being in want, distressed, afflicted, of
whom the world was not worthy, wandering in deserts, in mountains and
in dens and in caves of the earth." Of whom too the Lord speaks
figuratively to Job: "But who hath sent out the wild ass free,
and who hath loosed his bands? To whom I have given the wilderness
for an house, and a barren land for his dwelling. He scorneth the
multitude of the city and heareth not the cry of the driver; he
looketh round about the mountains of his pasture, and seeketh for
every green thing." In the Psalms also: "Let now the
redeemed of the Lord say, those whom He hath redeemed from the hand of
the enemy;" and after a little: "They wandered in a
wilderness in a place without water: they found not the way of a city
of habitation. They were hungry and thirsty: their soul fainted in
them. And they cried unto the Lord in their trouble and He delivered
them out of their distress;" whom Jeremiah too describes as
follows: "Blessed is the man that hath borne the yoke from his
youth. He shall sit solitary and hold his peace because he hath taken
it up upon himself," and there sing in heart and deed these words
of the Psalmist: "I am become like a pelican in the wilderness.
I watched and am become like a sparrow alone upon the
house-top."[9]
Of the origin of the Sarabaites and their mode of
life.
AND while the Christian religion was rejoicing in these two orders of
monks though this system had begun by degrees to deteriorate, there
arose afterwards that disgusting and unfaithful kind of monks; or
rather, that baleful plant revived and sprang up again which when it
first shot up in the persons of Ananias and Sapphira in the early
Church was cut off by the severity of the Apostle Peter--a kind which
among monks has been for a long while considered detestable and
execrable, and which was adopted by no one any more, so long as there
remained stamped on the memory of the faithful the dread of that very
severe sentence, in which the blessed Apostle not merely refused to
allow the aforesaid originators of the novel crime to be cured by
penitence or any amends, but actually destroyed that most dangerous
germ by their speedy death. When then that precedent, which was
punished with Apostolical severity in the case of Ananias and Sapphira
had by degrees faded from the minds of some, owing to long
carelessness and forgetfulness from lapse of time, there arose the
race of Sarabaites, who owing to the fact that they have broken away
from the congregations of the coenobites and each look after their own
affairs, are rightly named in the Egyptian language Sarabaites,[10] and these spring from the number of
those, whom we have mentioned, who wanted to imitate rather than truly
to aim at Evangelical perfection, urged thereto by rivalry or by the
praises of those who preferred the complete poverty of Christ to all
manner of riches. These then while in their feeble mind they make a
pretence of the greatest goodness and are forced by necessity to join
this order, while they are anxious to be reckoned by the name of monks
without emulating their pursuits, in no sort of way practise
discipline, or are subject to the will of the Elders, or, taught by
their traditions, learn to govern their own wills or take up and
properly learn any rule of sound discretion; but making their
renunciation only as a public profession, i.e., before the face of
men, either continue in their homes devoted to the same occupations as
before, though dignified by this title, or building cells for
themselves and calling them monasteries remain in them perfectly free
and their own masters, never submitting to the precepts of the gospel,
which forbid them to be busied with any anxiety for the day's food, or
troubles about domestic matters: commands which those alone fulfil
with no unbelieving doubt, who have freed themselves from all the
goods of this world and subjected themselves to the superiors of the
coenobia so that they cannot admit that they are at all their own
masters. But those who, as we said, shirk the severity of the
monastery, and live two or three together in their cells, not
satisfied to be under the charge and rule of an Abbot, but arranging
chiefly for this; viz., that they may get rid of the yoke of the
Elders and have liberty to carry out their wishes and go and wander
where they will, and do what they like, these men are more taken up
both day and night in daily business than those who live in the
coenobia, but not with the same faith and purpose. For these
Sarabaites do it not to submit the fruits of their labours to the will
of the steward, but to procure money to lay by. And see what a
difference there is between them. For the others think nothing of the
morrow, and offer to God the most acceptable fruits of their toil:
while these extend their faithless anxiety not only to the morrow, but
even to the space of many years, and so fancy that God is either false
or impotent as He either could not or would not grant them the
promised supply of food and clothing. The one seek this in all their
prayers; viz., that they may gain akthmosunhn,
i.e., the deprivation of all things, and lasting poverty: the other
that they may secure a rich quantity of all sorts of supplies. The
one eagerly strive to go beyond the fixed rule of daily work that
whatever is not wanted for the sacred purposes of the monastery, may
be distributed at the will of the Abbot either among the prisons, or
in the guest-chamber or in the infirmary or to the poor; the others
that whatever the day's gorge leaves over, may be useful for
extravagant wants or else laid by through the sin of covetousness.
Lastly, if we grant that what has been collected by them with no good
design, may be disposed of in better ways than we have mentioned, yet
not even thus do they rise to the merits of goodness and perfection.
For the others bring in such returns to the monastery, and daily
report to them, and continue in such humility and subjection that they
are deprived of their rights over what they gain by their own efforts,
just as they are of their rights over themselves, as they constantly
renew the fervour of their original act of renunciation, while they
daily deprive themselves of the fruits of their labours: but these are
puffed up by the fact that they are bestowing something on the poor,
and daily fall headlong into sin. The one party are by patience and
the strictness whereby they continue devoutly in the order which they
have once embraced, so as never to fulfil their own will, crucified
daily to this world and made living martyrs; the others are cast down
into hell by the lukewarmness of their purpose. These two sorts of
monks then vie with each other in almost equal numbers in this
province; but in other provinces, which the need of the Catholic faith
compelled me to visit, we have found that this third class of
Sarabaites flourishes and is almost the only one, since in the time of
Lucius who was a Bishop of Arian mis-belief[11] in the reign of Valens, while we
carried alms[12] to our brethren; viz.,
those from Egypt and the Thebaid, who had been consigned to the mines
of Pontus and Armenia[13] for their
steadfastness in the Catholic faith, though we found the system of
coenobia in some cities few and far between, yet we never made out
that even the name of anchorites was heard among them.
Of a fourth sort of monks.
THERE is however another and a fourth kind, which we have lately seen
springing up among those who flatter themselves with the appearance
and form of anchorites, and who in their early days seem in a brief
fervour to seek the perfection of the coenobium, but presently cool
off, and, as they dislike to put an end to their former habits and
faults, and are not satisfied to bear the yoke of humility and
patience any longer, and scorn to be in subjection to the rule of the
Elders, look out for separate cells and want to remain by themselves
alone, that as they are provoked by nobody they may be regarded by men
as patient, gentle, and humble: and, this arrangement, or rather this
lukewarmness never suffers those, of whom it has once got hold, to
approach to perfection. For in this way their faults are not merely
not rooted up, but actually grow worse, while they are excited by no
one, like some deadly and internal poison which the more it is
concealed, so much the more deeply does it creep in and cause an
incurable disease to the sick person. For out of respect for each
man's own cell no one ventures to reprove the faults of a solitary,
which he would rather have ignored than cured. Moreover virtues are
created not by hiding faults but by driving them out.
A question as to what is the difference between a
coenobium and a monastery.
GERMANUS: Is there any distinction between a coenobium and a
monastery, or is the same thing meant by either name?
The answer.
PIAMUN: Although many people indifferently speak of monasteries
instead of coenobia, yet there is this difference, that monastery is
the title of the dwelling, and means nothing more than the place,
i.e., the habitation of monks, while coenobium describes the character
of the life and its system: and monastery may mean the dwelling of a
single monk, while a coenobium cannot be spoken of except where dwells
a united community of a large number of men living together. They are
however termed monasteries in which groups of Sarabaites live.
Of true humility, and how Abbot Serapion exposed
the mock humility of a certain man.
WHEREFORE as I see that you have learnt the first principles of this
life from the best sort of monks, i.e., that starting from the
excellent school of the coenobium you are aiming at the lofty heights
of the anchorite's rule, you should with genuine feeling of heart
pursue the virtue of humility and patience, which I doubt not that you
learnt there; and not feign it, as some do, by mock humility in words,
or by an artificial and unnecessary readiness for some duties of the
body. And this sham humility Abbot Serapion[14] once laughed to scorn most capitally.
For when one had come to him making a great display of his lowliness
by his dress and words, and the old man urged him, after his custom,
to "collect the prayer"[15]
he would not consent to his request, but debasing himself declared
that he was involved in such crimes that he did not deserve even to
breathe the air which is common to all, and refusing even the use of
the mat preferred to sit down on the bare ground. But when he had
shown still less inclination for the washing of the feet, then Abbot
Serapion, when supper was finished, and the customary Conference gave
him an opportunity, began kindly and gently to urge him not to roam
with shifty lightmindedness over the whole world, idly and vaguely,
especially as he was young and strong, but to keep to his cell in
accordance with the rule of the Elders and to elect to be supported by
his own efforts rather than by the bounty of others; which even the
Apostle Paul would not allow, and though when he was labouring in the
cause of the gospel this provision might lightly have been made for
him, yet he preferred to work night and day, to provide daily food for
himself and for those who were ministering to him and could not do the
work with their own hands. Whereupon the other was filled with such
vexation and disgust that he could not hide by his looks the annoyance
which he felt in his heart. To whom the Elder: Thus far, my son, you
have loaded yourself with the weight of all kinds of crimes, not
fearing lest by the confession of such awful sins you bring a reproach
upon your reputation; how is it then, I pray, that now, at our simple
admonition, which involved no reproof, but simply showed a feeling for
your edification and love, I see that you are moved with such disgust
that you cannot hide it by your looks, or conceal it by an appearance
of calmness? Perhaps while you were humiliating yourself, you were
hoping to hear from our lips this saying: "The righteous man is
the accuser of himself in the opening of his discourse"?[16] Further, true humility of heart must
be preserved, which comes not from an affected humbling of body and in
word, but from an inward humbling of the soul: and this will only then
shine forth with clear evidences of patience when a man does not boast
about sins, which nobody will believe, but, when another insolently
accuses him of them, thinks nothing of it, and when with gentle
equanimity of spirit he puts up with wrongs offered to him.
A question how true patience can be gained.
GERMANUS: We should like to know how that calmness can be secured and
maintained, that, as when silence is enjoined on us we shut the door
of our mouth, and lay an embargo on speech, so also we may be able to
preserve gentleness of heart, which sometimes even when the tongue is
restrained loses its state of calmness within: and for this reason we
think that the blessing of gentleness can only be preserved by one in
a remote cell and solitary dwelling.
The answer.
PIAMUN: True patience and tranquillity is neither gained nor retained
without profound humility of heart: and if it has sprung from this
source, there will be no need either of the good offices of the cell
or of the refuge of the desert. For it will seek no external support
from anything, if it has the internal support of the virtue of
humility, its mother and its guardian. But if we are disturbed when
attacked by anyone it is clear that the foundations of humility have
not been securely laid in us, and therefore at the outbreak even of a
small storm, our whole edifice is shaken and ruinously disturbed. For
patience would not be worthy of praise and admiration if it only
preserved its purposed tranquillity when attacked by no darts of
enemies, but it is grand and glorious because when the storms of
temptation beat upon it, it remains unmoved. For wherein it is
believed that a man is annoyed and hurt by adversity, therein is he
strengthened the more; and he is therein the more exercised, wherein
he is thought to be annoyed. For everybody knows that patience gets
its name from the passions and endurance, and so it is clear that no
one can be called patient but one who bears without annoyance all the
indignities offered to him, and so it is not without reason that he is
praised by Solomon: "Better is the patient man than the strong,
and he who restrains his anger than he who takes a city;" and
again: "For a long-suffering man is mighty in prudence, but a
faint-hearted man is very foolish."[17] When then anyone is overcome by a
wrong, and blazes up in a fire of anger, we should not hold that the
bitterness of the insult offered to him is the cause of his
sin, but rather the manifestation of secret weakness, in
accordance with the parable of our Lord and Saviour which He spoke
about the two houses,[18] one of which
was founded upon a rock, and the other upon the sand, on both of which
He says that the tempest of rain and waters and storm beat equally:
but that one which was founded on the solid rock felt no harm at all
from the violence of the shock, while that which was built on the
shifting and moving sand at once collapsed. And it certainly appears
that it fell, not because it was struck by the rush of the storms and
torrents, but because it was imprudently built upon the sand. For a
saint does not differ from a sinner in this, that he is not himself
tempted in the same way, but because he is not worsted even by a great
assault, while the other is overcome even by a slight temptation. For
the fortitude of any good man would not, as we said, be worthy of
praise, if his victory was gained without his being tempted, as most
certainly there is no room for victory where there is no struggle and
conflict: for "Blessed is the man that endureth temptation, for
when he has been proved he shall receive the crown of life which God
hath promised to them that love Him."[19] According to the Apostle Paul also
"Strength is made perfect" not in ease and delights but
"in weakness." "For behold," says He, "I
have made thee this day a fortified city, and a pillar of iron, and a
wall of brass, over all the land, to the kings of Judah, and to the
princes thereof, and to the priests thereof, and to all the people of
the land. And they shall fight against thee, and shall not prevail:
for I am with thee, saith the Lord, to deliver thee."[20]
Of the example of patience given by a certain
religious woman.
OF this patience then I want to give you at least two examples: one of
a certain religious woman, who aimed at the virtue of patience so
eagerly that she not only did not avoid the assaults of temptation,
but actually made for herself occasions of trouble that she might not
cease to be tried more often. For this woman as she was living at
Alexandria and was born of no mean ancestors, and was serving the Lord
religiously in the house which had been left to her by her parents,
came to Athanasius the Bishop, of blessed memory, and entreated him to
give her some other widow to support, who was being provided for at
the expense of the Church. And, to give her petition in her own
words: "Give me," she said, "one of the sisters to look
after." When then the Bishop had commended the woman's purpose
because he saw that she was very ready for a work of a mercy, he
ordered a widow to be chosen out of the whole number, who was
preferred to all the rest for the goodness of her character, and her
grave and well-regulated life, for fear lest her wish to be liberal
might be overcome by the fault of the recipient of her bounty, and she
who sought gain out of the poor might be disgusted at her bad
character and so suffer an injury to her faith. And when the woman
was brought home, she ministered to her with all kinds of service, and
found out her excellent modesty and gentleness, and saw that every
minute she was honoured by thanks from her for her kind offices, and
so after a few days she came back to the aforesaid Bishop, and said: I
asked you to bid that a woman be given to me for me to support and to
serve with obedient complaisance. And when he, not yet understanding
the woman's object and desire, thought that her petition had been
neglected by the deceitfulness of the superior, and inquired not
without some anger in his mind, what was the reason of the delay, at
once he discovered that a widow who was better than all the rest had
been assigned to her, and so he secretly gave orders that the one who
was the worst of all should be given to her, the one, I mean, who
surpassed in anger and quarrelling and wine-bibbing and talkativeness
all who were under the power of these faults. And when she was only
too easily found and given to her, she began to keep her at home, and
to minister to her with the same care as to the former widow, or even
more attentively, and this was all the thanks which she got from her
for her services; viz., to be constantly tried by unworthy wrongs and
continually annoyed by her by reproaches and upbraiding, as she
complained of her, and chid her with spiteful and disparaging remarks,
because she had asked for her from the Bishop not for her refreshment
but rather for her torment and annoyance, and had taken her away from
rest to labour instead of from labour to rest. When then her
continual reproaches broke out so far that the wanton woman did not
restrain herself from laying hands on her, the other only redoubled
her services in still humbler offices, and learnt to overcome the
vixen not by resisting her, but by subjecting herself still more
humbly, so that, when provoked by all kinds of indignities, she might
smooth down the madness of the shrew by gentleness and kindness. And
when she had been thoroughly strengthened by these exercises, and had
attained the perfect virtue of the patience she had longed for, she
came to the aforesaid Bishop to thank him for his decision and choice
as well as for the blessing of her exercise, because he had at last as
she wished provided her with a most worthy mistress for her patience,
strengthened daily by whose constant annoyance as by some oil for
wrestling, she had arrived at complete patience of mind; and, at last,
said she, you have given me one to support, for the former one rather
honoured and refreshed me by her services. This may be sufficient to
have told about the female sex, that by this tale we may not only be
edified, but even confounded, as we cannot maintain our patience
unless we are like wild beasts removed in caves and cells.
Of the example of patience given by Abbot
Paphnutius.
NOW let us give the other instance of Abbot Paphnutius, who always
remained so zealously in the recesses of that renowned and far-famed
desert of Scete, in which he is now Presbyter, so that the rest of the
anchorites gave him the name of Bubalis,[21] because he always delighted in
dwelling in the desert as if with a sort of innate liking. And so as
even in boyhood he was so good and full of grace that even the
renowned and great men of that time admired his gravity and steadfast
constancy, and although he was younger in age, yet put him on a level
with the Elders out of regard for his virtues, and thought fit to
admit him to their order, the same envy, which formerly excited the
minds of his brethren against the patriarch Joseph, inflamed one out
of the number of his brethren with a burning and consuming jealousy.
And this man wanting to mar his beauty by some blemish or spot, hit on
this kind of devilry, so as to seize an opportunity when Paphnutius
had left his cell to go to Church on Sunday: and secretly entering his
cell he slyly hid his own book among the boughs which he used to weave
of palm branches, and, secure of his well-planned trick, himself went
off as if with a pure and clean conscience to Church. And when the
whole service was ended as usual, in the presence of all the brethren
he brought his complaint to S. Isidore[22] who was Presbyter of this desert
before this same Paphnutius, and declared that his book had been
stolen from his cell. And when his complaint had so disturbed the
minds of all the brethren, and more especially of the Presbyter, so
that they knew not what first to suspect or think, as all were
overcome with the utmost astonishment at so new and unheard of a
crime, such as no one remembered ever to have been committed in that
desert before that time, and which has never happened since, he who
had brought forward the matter as the accuser urged that they should
all be kept in Church and certain selected men be sent to search the
cells of the brethren one by one. And when this had been entrusted to
three of the Elders by the Presbyter, they turned over the
bed-chambers of them all, and at last found the book hidden in the
cell of Paphnutius among the boughs of the palms which they call
seira, just as the plotter had hidden it. And
when the inquisitors at once brought it back to the Church and
produced it before all, Paphnutius, although he was perfectly clear in
the sincerity of his conscience, yet like one who acknowledged the
guilt of thieving, gave himself up entirely to make amends and humbly
asked for a plan of repentance, as he was so careful of his shame and
modesty (and feared) lest if he tried to remove the stain of the theft
by words, he might further be branded as a liar, as no one would
believe anything but what had been found out. And when he had
immediately left the Church not cast down in mind but rather trusting
to the judgment of God, he continually shed tears at his prayers, and
fasted thrice as often as before, and prostrated himself in the sight
of men with all humility of mind. But when he had thus submitted
himself with all contrition of flesh and spirit for almost a
fortnight, so that he came early on the morning of Saturday and Sunday
not to receive the Holy Communion[23]
but to prostrate himself on the threshold of the Church and humbly ask
for pardon, He, Who is the witness of all secret things and knows
them, suffered him to be no longer tried by Himself or defamed by
others. For what the author of the crime, the wicked thief of his own
property, the cunning defamer of another's credit, had done with no
man there as a witness, that He made known by means of the devil who
was himself the instigator of the sin. For possessed by a most fierce
demon, he made known all the craft of his secret plot, and the same
man who had conceived the accusation and the cheat betrayed it. But
he was so long and grievously vexed by that unclean spirit that he
could not even be restored by the prayers of the saints living there,
who by means of divine gifts can command the devils, nor could the
special grace of the Presbyter Isidore himself cast out from him his
cruel tormentor, though by the Lord's bounty such power was given him
that no one who was possessed was ever brought to his doors without
being at once healed; for Christ was reserving this glory for the
young Paphnutius, that the man should be cleansed only by the prayers
of him against whom he had plotted, and that the jealous enemy should
receive pardon for his offence and an end of his present punishment,
only by proclaiming his name, from whose credit he had thought that he
could detract. He then in his early youth already gave these signs of
his future character, and even in his boyish years sketched the lines
of that perfection which was to grow up in mature age. If then we
want to attain to his height of virtue, we must lay the same
foundation to begin with.
On the perfection of patience.
A TWOFOLD reason however led me to relate this fact, first that we may
weigh this steadfastness and constancy of the man, and as we are
attacked by less serious wiles of the enemy, may the better secure a
greater feeling of calmness and patience, secondly that we may with
resolute decision hold that we cannot be safe from the storms of
temptation and assaults of the devil if we make all the protection for
our patience and all our confidence consist not in the strength of our
inner man but in the doors of our cell or the recesses of the desert,
and companionship of the saints, or the safeguard of anything else
outside us. For unless our mind is strengthened by the power of His
protection Who says in the gospel "the kingdom of God is within
you,"[24] in vain do we fancy that
we can defeat the plots of our airy foe by the aid of men who are
living with us, or that we can avoid them by distance of place, or
exclude them by the protection of walls. For though none of these
things was wanting to Saint Paphnutius yet the tempter did not fail to
find a way of access against him to attack him; nor did the encircling
walls, or the solitude of the desert or the merits of all those saints
in the congregation repulse that most foul spirit. But because the
holy servant of God had fixed the hope of his heart not on those
external things but on Him Who is the judge of all secrets, he could
not be moved even by the machinations of such an assault as that. On
the other hand did not the man whom envy had hurried into so grievous
a sin enjoy the benefit of solitude and the protection of a retired
dwelling, and intercourse with the blessed Abbot and Presbyter Isidore
and other saints? And yet because the storm raised by the devil found
him upon the sand, it not only drove in his house but actually
overturned it. We need not then seek for our peace in externals, nor
fancy that another person's patience can be of any use to the faults
of our impatience. For just as "the kingdom of God is within
you," so "a man's foes are they of his own
household."[25] For no one is
more my enemy than my own heart which is truly the one of my household
closest to me. And therefore if we are careful, we cannot possibly be
injured by intestine enemies. For where those of our own household
are not opposed to us, there also the kingdom of God is secured in
peace of heart. For if you diligently investigate the matter, I
cannot be injured by any man however spiteful, if I do not fight
against myself with warlike heart. But if I am injured, the fault is
not owing to the other's attack, but to my own impatience. For as
strong and solid food is good for a man in good health, so it is bad
for a sick one. But it cannot hurt the man who takes it, unless the
weakness of its recipient gives it its power to hurt. If then any
similar temptation ever arises among brethren, we need never be shaken
out of the even tenor of our ways and give an opening to the
blasphemous snarls of men living in the world, nor wonder that some
bad and detestable men have secretly found their way into the number
of the saints, because so long as we are trodden down and trampled in
the threshing floor of this world, the chaff which is destined for
eternal fire is quite sure to be mingled with the choicest of the
wheat. Finally if we bear in mind that Satan was chosen among the
angels, and Judas among the apostles, and Nicholas the author of a
detestable heresy among the deacons, it will be no wonder that the
basest of men are found among the ranks of the saints. For although
some maintain that this Nicholas was not the same man who was chosen
for the work of the ministry by the Apostles,[26] nevertheless they cannot deny that he
was of the number of the disciples, all of whom were clearly of such a
character and so perfect as those few whom we can now with difficulty
discover in the coenobia. Let us then bring forward not the fall of
the above-mentioned brother, who fell in the desert with so grievous a
collapse, nor that horrible stain which he afterwards wiped out by the
copious tears of his penitence, but the example of the blessed
Paphnutius; and let us not be destroyed by the ruin of the former,
whose ingrained sin of envy was increased and made worse by his
affected piety, but let us imitate with all our might the humility of
the latter, which in his case was no sudden production of the quiet of
the desert, but had been gained among men, and was consummated and
perfected by solitude. However you should know that the evil of envy
is harder to be cured than other faults, for I should almost say that
a man whom it has once tainted with the mischief of its poison is
without a remedy. For it is the plague of which it is figuratively
said by the prophet: "Behold I will send among you serpents,
basilisks, against which there is no charm: and they shall bite
you."[27] Rightly then are the
stings of envy compared by the prophet to the deadly poison of
basilisks, as by it the first author of all poisons and their chief
perished and died. For he slew himself before him of whom he was
envious, and destroyed himself before that he poured forth the poison
of death against man: for "by the envy of the devil death entered
into the world: they therefore who are on his side follow
him."[28] For just as he who was
the first to be corrupted by the plague of that evil, admitted no
remedy of penitence, nor any healing plaster, so those also who have
given themselves up to be smitten by the same pricks, exclude all the
aid of the sacred charmer, because as they are tormented not by the
faults but by the prosperity of those of whom they are jealous, they
are ashamed to display the real truth and look out for some external
unnecessary and trifling causes of offence: and of these, because they
are altogether false, vain is the hope of cure, while the deadly
poison which they will not produce is lurking in their veins. Of
which the wisest of men has fitly said: "If a serpent bite
without hissing, there is no supply for the charmer."[29] For those are silent bites, to which
alone the medicine of the wise is no succour. For that evil is so far
incurable that it is made worse by attentions, it is increased by
services, is irritated by presents, because as the same Solomon says:
"envy endures nothing."[30]
For just in proportion as another has made progress in humble
submission or in the virtue of patience or in the merit of
munificence, so is a man excited by worse pricks of envy, because he
desires nothing less than the ruin or death of the man whom he envies.
Lastly no submission on the part of their harmless brother could
soften the envy of the eleven patriarchs, so that Scripture relates of
them: "But his brothers envied him because his father loved him,
and they could not speak peaceably unto him"[31] until their jealousy, which would not
listen to any entreaties on the part of their obedient and submissive
brother, desired his death, and would scarcely be satisfied with the
sin of selling a brother. It is plain then that envy is worse than
all faults, and harder to get rid of, as it is inflamed by those
remedies by which the others are destroyed. For, for example, a man
who is grieved by a loss that has been caused to him, is healed by a
liberal compensation: one who is sore owing to a wrong done to him, is
appeased by humble satisfaction being made. What can you do with one
who is the more offended by the very fact that he sees you humbler and
kinder, who is not aroused to anger by any greed which can be appeased
by a bribe; or by any injurious attack or love of vengeance, which is
overcome by obsequious services; but is only irritated by another's
success and happiness? But who is there who in order to satisfy one
who envies him, would wish to fall from his good fortune, or to lose
his prosperity or to be involved in some calamity? Wherefore we must
constantly implore the divine aid, to which nothing is impossible, in
order that the serpent may not by a single bite of this evil destroy
whatever is flourishing in us, and animated as it were by the life and
quickening power of the Holy Ghost. For the other poisons of
serpents, i.e., carnal sins and faults, in which human frailty is
easily entangled and from which it is as easily purified, show some
traces of their wounds in the flesh, whereby although the earthly body
is most dangerously inflamed, yet if any charmer well skilled in
divine incantations applies a cure and antidote or the remedy of words
of salvation, the poisonous evil does not reach to the everlasting
death of the soul. But the poison of envy as if emitted by the
basilisk, destroys the very life of religion and faith, even before
the wound is perceived in the body. For he does not raise himself up
against men, but, in his blasphemy, against God, who carps at nothing
in his brother except his felicity, and so blames no fault of man, but
simply the judgment of God. This then is that "root of
bitterness springing up"[32] which
raises itself to heaven and tends to reproaching the very Author Who
bestows good things on man. Nor shall anyone be disturbed because God
threatens to send "serpents, basilisks,"[33] to bite those by whose crimes He is
offended. For although it is certain that God cannot be the author of
envy, yet it is fair and worthy of the divine judgment that, while
good gifts are bestowed on the humble and refused to the proud and
reprobate, those who, as the Apostle says, deserve to be given over
"to a reprobate mind,"[34]
should be smitten and consumed by envy sent as it were by Him,
according to this passage: "They have provoked me to jealousy by
them that are no gods: and I will provoke them to jealousy by them
that are no nation."[35]
By this discourse the blessed Piamun excited still more keenly our
desire in which we had begun to be promoted from the infant school of
the coenobium to the second standard of the anchorites' life. For it
was under his instruction that we made our first start in solitary
living, the knowledge of which we afterwards followed up more
thoroughly in Scete.
Next
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