Posts Tagged hesychasm
Apophatic and Cataphatic Theology: An Issue of Emphasis and Balance
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Contemplative Prayer (series), Ekklesia and church, Essence and Energies (series), First Thoughts, Hesychasm - Jesus Prayer, The Cappadocians, Theology on April 6, 2025
Overview
Apophatic and Cataphatic are two terms used in theology to describe different approaches to understanding God. The Eastern Orthodox and Latin West each use both types. The issue comes down to one of emphasis and balance: The Orthodox East is overwhelmingly Apophatic in approach, while the Latin West is predominantly Cataphatic.
Definitions
Apophatic theology (from Greek: ἀπόφημι apophēmi, meaning “to deny”) uses “negative” terminology to indicate what it is believed the divine is not. It means emptying the mind of words and ideas and simply resting in the presence of God. Apophatic prayer is prayer that occurs without words, images, or concepts. This approach to prayer regards silence, stillness, unknowing and even darkness as doorways, rather than obstacles, to communication with God. Apophatic theology relies primarily on experience and revelation.
Cataphatic theology (from the Greek word κατάφασις kataphasis meaning “affirmation”) uses “positive” terminology to describe or refer to the divine, i.e. terminology that describes or refers to what the divine is believed to be. Cataphatic prayer is prayer that speaks thoroughly, intensively, or positively of God: prayer that uses words, images, ideas, concepts, and the imagination to relate to God. Cataphatic theology relies heavily on logic and reason.
Background
Apophatic theology—also known as negative theology or via negativa—is a theology that attempts to describe God by negation. In Orthodox Christianity, Apophatic theology is based on the assumption that God’s essence is unknowable or ineffable and on the recognition of the inadequacy of human language to describe God. The Apophatic tradition in Orthodoxy is balanced with Cataphatic theology (positive theology) via belief in the Incarnation and the self-revealed energies of God, through which God has revealed himself in the person of Jesus Christ. However, Apophatic theology is the dominant traditional Eastern paradigm of an experiential, revealed theology, intimately linking doctrine with contemplation through purgation (catharsis), illumination (theoria), and union (theosis).
Clement of Alexandria (c. 150 – 215) was an early proponent of Apophatic theology with elements of Cataphatic. Clement holds that God is unknowable, although God’s unknowability, concerns only his essence, not his energies, or powers. According to Clement’s writings, the term theoria develops further from a mere intellectual “seeing” toward a spiritual form of contemplation. Clement’s Apophatic theology or philosophy is closely related to this kind of theoria and the “mystic vision of the soul.” For Clement, God is both transcendent in essence and immanent in self-revelation.
The Cappadocian Fathers (Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory of Nazianzus (4th century)) were early exemplars of this Apophatic theology. They stated that mankind can acquire an incomplete knowledge of God in his attributes, positive and negative, by reflecting upon and participating in his self-revelatory operations (energeia). But, the essence of God is completely unknowable.
A century later Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite (late 5th century) in his short work Mystical Theology, first introduced and explained what came to be known as Apophatic or negative theology.
Maximus the Confessor (7th century) maintained that the combination of Apophatic theology and hesychasm—the practice of silence and stillness—made theosis or union with God possible.
John of Damascus (8th century) employed Apophatic theology when he wrote that positive (cataphatic) statements about God reveal “not the nature, but the things around the nature.”
All in all, Apophatic theology remains crucial to much of the theology in Eastern Orthodox Christianity. The opposite tends to be true in Western Latin Christianity, with a few notable exceptions to this rule.
Cataphatic theology
In the Latin West a heavily Cataphatic theology, or via positiva, developed, which remains today in most forms of Western Christianity. This type of Cataphatic theology is based on using human reason to make positive statements about the nature of God. It slowly developed from the 5th to the 11th century, emerging as Scholasticism in the Medieval Period (11th-17th centuries). (see entries for Anselm and Thomas Aquinas, below)
Augustine of Hippo (354–430) significantly influenced scholasticism, emphasizing the integration of faith and reason. His ideas laid the groundwork for later Scholastic thinkers who sought to reconcile Christian theology with classical philosophy, particularly through dialectic reasoning. Augustine’s doctrines of the filioque, original sin, the doctrine of grace, and predestination found little support outside of the Western Roman Church. Within the Western Latin church, ‘Augustinianism’ dominated early theology.
Anselm of Canterbury (c. 1033 – 1109) is widely considered the father of Scholasticism, endeavoring to render Christian tenets of faith, traditionally taken as a revealed truth, as a rational system. Scholasticism prescribed that Aristotelian dialectic reason be used in the elucidation of spiritual truth and in defense of the dogmas of Faith.
Thomas Aquinas (c. 1225 – 7 March 1274) reflects the mature emergence of this new medieval Scholastic paradigm, which promoted the use of formal intellectual reason, putting it at odds with the predominantly Eastern revealed tradition of hesychastic contemplation. Aquinas’ Summa Theologica (1265–1274), is considered to be the pinnacle of Medieval Scholastic Christian philosophy and theology. The resulting ‘Thomism’ remains the foundation of contemporary Western Latin theology.
Silence
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Ekklesia and church, Hesychasm - Jesus Prayer, Theology on March 24, 2025
“No wonder that silence is probably the foundational spiritual discipline in all the world’s religions at the more mature levels. At the less mature levels, religion is mostly noise, entertainment, and words. Catholics and Orthodox Christians prefer theatre and wordy symbols; Protestants prefer music and endless sermons.”
Prayer Ropes and Rosaries
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Ekklesia and church, Hesychasm - Jesus Prayer, Monasticism, New Nuggets, Patristic Pearls on December 21, 2024
Both the prayer rope and the rosary are revered traditional aids to Christian prayer, yet each has its own unique origin, symbolism, and devotional use.
The Prayer Rope, now largely associated with the Eastern Orthodox Church, is a loop of knots (each knot containing seven crosses), usually made of wool, that is used to focus and intensify prayer, particularly the Jesus Prayer. It acts as a physical guide for a repeated, meditative style of prayer, allowing practitioners to keep count while reflecting and meditating. The prayer rope has its beginnings in early fourth century Christian monasticism in the Egyptian Desert, where it was devised as a tool to aid in the ascetic practice of continuous prayer (1 Thes. 5:17).
Origins: The prayer rope is known as a ‘komboskini’ in Greek and ‘chotki’ in Russian. The prayer rope owes its origins to St. Pachomius the Great, a fourth century “Desert Father” in upper Egypt and founder of cenobitic monasticism (a monastic tradition that stresses community life, over the older, eremitic, or solitary tradition). St. Pachomius established the prayer rope as a practical solution for the monks under his supervision to count prayers and prostrations consistently. The prayer rope evolved as a useful instrument for monks to keep track of their prayers, particularly the Jesus Prayer, without distraction. It gradually took on a deeper spiritual value, with each knot symbolizing a request for mercy and humility.
Symbolic Significance: Wool knots, each knot containing seven crosses, are commonly used on traditional prayer ropes to represent Christ’s flock and the shepherd’s care. The number of knots in a prayer rope varies; typically 33 (Christ’s age at crucifixion), 50, or 100.
Traditional Use: In Orthodox Christian practice, the prayer rope is typically used for private prayer in reciting the Jesus Prayer, acting as a physical and spiritual guide to help the mind (nous) and heart concentrate on prayer.
The Rosary, strongly associated with the Roman Catholic Church, is a string of beads that ends with a crucifix and is used to guide Catholics through a sequence of prayers that reflect on the lives of Christ and the Virgin Mary. Each bead signifies a specific prayer, such as the Hail Mary, and each set of beads makes a ‘decade’ that corresponds to a mystery in Christ’s life. The rosary has a long history, dating back to the Middle Ages when it first arose as a popular form of laity devotion, eventually becoming a prominent practice in Catholic piety.
Origins: The rosary is typically identified with Saint Dominic in the early 13th century. The rosary began as a simple way for lay people to join in the monastic practice of reciting the Psalms, but has since evolved into a systematic form of prayer. The rosary prayers are split into decades, each with ten Hail Marys, an Our Father, and a Glory Be, and are frequently accompanied by meditations on the Mysteries of the Rosary.
Symbolic Significance: Each rosary bead represents a prayer as well as a step in the meditation journey through Jesus Christ’s and the Virgin Mary’s lives. The rosary culminates with a crucifix, which represents Christ’s sacrifice.
Traditional Use: Roman Catholics utilize the rosary for both personal meditation and social worship. It is frequently prayed privately for personal spiritual development or in groups for social objectives and celebrations.
The “Icon Corner”
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Contemplative Prayer (series), Ekklesia and church, First Thoughts, Hesychasm - Jesus Prayer, Monasticism on November 21, 2024
The Book of Acts and the Epistles of the Apostle Paul record that in the early Church, Christians used to meet in the homes of the faithful. This tradition of the House church assembly continues to this day in Eastern Christianity. An Orthodox Christian is expected to pray constantly. Thus the house, just like the Temple (church building), is considered to be a consecrated place. The center of worship in the house is the icon corner (Greek: εικονοστάσι, iconostási).
An icon corner is normally oriented to face east. It is often located in a corner to eliminate worldly distractions and allow prayer to be more concentrated. Here is where the family’s icons were located and displayed. From the earliest days, Light has been an important part of Christian worship. It not only provides a beautiful and calming ambience; it takes on a theological significance with Christ as the Light of the World. Thus, oil lamps and candles frequently illuminate the icons in the icon corner.
In the theology of Orthodox iconography, the prayers and veneration directed to the icons are passed on to the prototype—the person depicted in the image. For, as St. John of Damascus wrote, “we do not worship paint or wood, we do not worship matter; we worship the God who created matter, who became matter (flesh) for our sake“.
The icons in the icon corner also remind us of the declaration in Hebrews 12:1, that “we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses“; so we need never pray alone. We venerate these witnesses through their icons, petition them and join them in prayer and worship of our Triune God.
The Rise of Monasticism in the 4th-Century Christian Church
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Monasticism, The Cappadocians, Women in Early Christianity on April 10, 2023
The following two momentous events impacting the 4th-century church serve as contextual bookends to this discussion:
- In AD 313 The Edict of Milan was issued by Constantine Augustus and Licinius Augustus. It legalized Christianity in the Roman Empire and ended Christian persecution.
- In AD 380 The Edict of Thessalonica was issued by Theodosius I, Gratian, and Valentinian. It made Nicene Christianity the State Religion of the Roman Empire.
After Constantine I legalized Christianity, under the Edict of Milan in 313 (first bullet, above), pagan elites in search of notoriety and political gain filled the institutional church. In this season of significant transition in the Roman Empire, opportunists took the title “Christian” and sought ecclesiastical positions to improve their socio-political status. People became Christian in name only, thus compromising the morality of the church. Already at the Council of Nicaea in 325, church officials recognized that too many ill-prepared pagan converts had been promoted to positions of leadership.
At the same time, there remained many faithful Christians who endured the final persecution under Emperor Diocletian (AD 305). These Christians abhorred the apathy of the recent status-seeking converts. They wanted a deeper, disciplined expression of worship. But as the church became more politicized and dominated by people with imperial connections, the faithful remnant increasingly lost their voice, and eventually their hope of change. So, in a public display of protest, many fervent Christians made an exodus into the Egyptian, Palestinian, and Syrian deserts as solitary (eremitic) monks. To these Desert Fathers and Mothers, this ascetic life replaced the institutional church as the means to salvation. On some occasions, their deep animosity towards the institutional church turned into physical aggression and violence. They had zeal and passion, but frequently lacked leadership or spiritual guidance.
By the mid-300’s Christianity was divided into two extremes—the institutional church, corrupted by Byzantine politics, and protesting monks who were living as independent Christians. Both sides needed reform and visionary leadership if the church was to survive long-term.
St. Basil the Great (329–379) was born into a wealthy Cappadocian family. As a young man Basil studied in Athens. In 357, Basil traveled to Egypt, Palestine, and Syria to study ascetics and monasticism. This included visiting not only the eremitic monks of the lower Nile region, but also the first cenobitic (communal) monasteries founded by St. Pachomius in the upper Nile region at Tabennis.
Basil sensed that retirement to a solitary eremitic monastic life was selfish. He felt called to use his education, zeal, and leadership abilities to restore Christians and the church to their true calling. Basil seized upon communal (cenobitic) monasticism to both renew the institutional church and reform the marginalized solitary monks. Vibrant monastic communities could address the dire problems on multiple fronts.
Basil was fortunate to have an existing cenobitic ‘domestic ascetic’ monastery on his family’s Pontus estate near Annisa (modern Uluköy, Turkey). This monastery was founded by his widowed mother, Emmelia, and his older sister, St. Macrina the Younger (c. 327 – 379), in the late 340’s and early 350’s. Together, mother and daughter had converted the Annisa estate into a domestic monastic settlement with several other ascetic virgin women and devoted themselves to pious lives of prayer and charitable works. Its asceticism was dedicated to the service of God, which was to be pursued through community life and obedience.
Returning to Annisa after touring the desert monasteries, by 358 Basil had gathered around him a group of like-minded male celibate ascetic disciples, including his youngest brother, St. Peter of Sebasteia (c. 340 – 391), who had been raised and trained by Macrina. This expanded the existing women’s monastery to include males, and later on orphans. Also in 358, Basil invited his school friend, St. Gregory of Nazianzus (c. 329 – 390) to join him in Annisa. When Gregory eventually arrived, they collaborated on Origen’s Philocalia, a collection of Origen’s works. This was the fulfillment of Basil’s monastic dream. Basil also wrote about monastic communal life. His writings became pivotal in developing monastic traditions of the Eastern Church. Basil’s experience during his monastic period at Annisa would later result in the monastic Rule of St. Basil (aka, Asketikon) which called for obligatory liturgical prayer and manual and mental work. It also enjoined or implied chastity and poverty. Basil’s rule was strict but not severe.
During this period of monastic retreat, Basil became increasingly concerned about the mounting problems in the church and society. He lamented the injustice of poverty, the oppressive “Christian” aristocracy, the church’s marriage to politics, and the spread of the Arian heresy. The institutional church had lapsed and disgruntled believers were continuing to withdraw to the desert. Both forms of Christianity needed restoration.
By the 360’s and 370’s, Basil considered the institutional Church as heading to “utter shipwreck… in addition to the open attack of the heretics, the Churches are reduced to utter helplessness by the war raging among those who are supposed to be orthodox.” (to the Italians and Gauls, Letter 92.3)
In 362, Bishop Meletius of Antioch ordained Basil as a Deacon. Bishop Eusebius then summoned Basil to Caesarea (Mazaca) and ordained him as presbyter (priest) of the Church there in 365. Basil described the situation of the collective institutional Christian church leadership in dire terms:
“The doctrines of true religion are overthrown. The laws of the Church are in confusion. The ambition of men, who have no fear of God, rushes into high posts, and exalted office is now publicly known as the prize of impiety. The result is, that the worse a man blasphemes, the fitter the people think him to be a bishop. Clerical dignity is a thing of the past. There is a complete lack of men shepherding the Lord’s flock with knowledge. Ambitious men are constantly throwing away the provision for the poor on their own enjoyment and the distribution of gifts. There is no precise knowledge of canons. There is complete immunity in sinning; for when men have been placed in office by the favor of men, they are obliged to return the favor by continually showing indulgence to offenders. Just judgment is a thing of the past; and everyone walks according to his heart’s desire. Vice knows no bounds; the people know no restraint. Men in authority are afraid to speak, for those who have reached power by human interest are the slaves of those to whom they owe their advancement.”
~ Basil, Letter 92.2
In 370, Bishop Eusebius died, and Basil was consecrated as Bishop in June 370. His new post as Bishop of Caesarea (Mazaca) also gave him the power of exarch of Pontus, and influence over all of Cappadocia.
The Church historian Rufinus of Aquileia in 397 AD explains Basil’s course of actions as Bishop:
“Basil went round the cities and countryside of Pontus and began by his words to rouse that province from its torpor and lack of concern for our hope for the future, kindling it by his preaching, and to banish the insensitivity resulting from long negligence; he compelled it to put away its concern for vain and worldly things and to give its attention to him. He taught people to assemble, to build monasteries, to take care of the poor and furnish them with proper housing and the necessities of life, to establish the way of life of virgins, and to make the life of modesty and chastity desirable to almost everyone.”
~ Rufinus, Church History, 11:9
Even though Basil was a prominent theologian and Bishop of Caesarea (Mazaca), he always remained committed to founding, developing, and strengthening Cappadocian monasteries. Basil corresponded with the satellite communities about various aspects of the Christian life. Basil’s book The Rule of St. Basil became the foundational text for Christian monasticism.
Through communal monasticism, Basil reformed Christianity at both the institutional and grassroots level. Monasticism had been pitted against the church, but Basil, ever the ecclesiastical statesman, incorporated the monastic movement into the church so they could benefit each other. As a powerful bishop over Cappadocia, Basil used his ecclesiastical authority to speak against the secularizing forces, refute the heresy of Arianism, appoint monk-bishops to leadership positions, publish theological treatises, and advocate for the poor among the elite.
At a grassroots level, Basil organized monastic communities of love-motivated disciples. These groups strengthened the church by providing true teaching, spiritual ministry, and capable leadership. Monks cared for lay people, both physically and spiritually. Monasticism expressed the true character of Christianity and thus restored confidence in the church. Monks would also purify the church by modeling faithful devotion to God. Their lives summoned the politicized church back to holiness and mission.
The following sections explain how Basil developed the cenobitic monastic communities to strategically address the social and ecclesiastical problems of his day.
1. Love in Community
Basil never developed a standardized rule for monasteries. In his view, love was the guiding rule for all the Christian life. The opening questions of Basil’s Asketika explain how the “utterly ineffable love of God” compels and guides the entire Christian life, including monastic communities. To fulfill the rule of love, each monastic community was free to develop in its own way. Byzantine monasteries constructed their own rules based on the monastic principles laid out in Basil’s books Moralia and Asketika.
Basil’s emphasis on love and community was a deliberate corrective to the lifestyle of the solitary (eremitic) monks. They practiced extreme forms of asceticism, such as competing to see who could most severely torment their body. Basil said asceticism without love was useless. This echoes the Apostle Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians 13:3, “If I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.” In serving one another in a community of love, Basil encouraged the moderation of austere practices. Basil insisted that self-denial must be rooted in love and the power of the Holy Spirit. For Basil, the purpose of the monastic life was cultivating a true love for God and fellow humans.
Basil placed a strong emphasis on work as service. Monks were to work in groups for mutual edification, protection and to conduct prayer. Work was an expression of love. Monks assumed vows of poverty and shared property in common. This act resisted the allure and love of private property. Basil highlighted the loving purpose of mutual labor. In earlier models of asceticism, work was a way to overcome the lust of the flesh. But for Basil, work was an expression of love toward others.
2. Social Care
The monastic community not only served itself, but it was located near towns to serve as a public example and to help lay Christians. Social service was another overflow of the monastic life. Monks cared for the marginalized and poor. In 369 a severe famine caused mass starvation throughout Cappadocia. Strange weather patterns devastated crops and the rich stockpiled food. Basil explained, “The hungry are dying…The naked are stiff with cold. The man in debt is held by the throat.”
In response Basil constructed a large complex next to the original monastery at Annesi to care for the poor. So many people came to receive services that the growing region became known as “New Caesarea.” The Basilian complex was a source of great stability for the community. Both church and the State supported the work, and other monasteries followed suit by helping the poor. Almsgiving and generosity to the poor were defining aspects of monasticism.
3. Preaching and Teaching
Basil peppered monasteries throughout the populated areas of the Roman world to stop the spread of Arian heresy. Arianism taught that Jesus was not eternally God, but only “similar” to God. In the 360’s and 370’s when Basil was bishop, Arians controlled most episcopal leadership and enjoyed political support from the emperors in Constantinople. According to Basil, the champions of Arianism were waging war against Apostolic teaching, and were to be resisted. In Basil’s monasteries, monks studied the Nicene doctrines, learned rhetoric, and went into nearby towns to preach. Monasticism became a frontline defense against Arian heresy. As Christianity expanded into new areas, monks were ordained and sent out to evangelize.
4. Church Leadership
The leadership of the church had fallen into moral decline. Basil lamented there was “a complete immunity to sinning” among church bishops. As Arians gained political power, many Orthodox bishops were banished into exile and replaced by incompetent church leaders. In this perilous time, Basil developed the vision of the “bishop-monk.” The contemplative life at monasteries provided the biblical education and character development essential for church leadership. As a prominent bishop, Basil labored assiduously to recruit monks to serve as bishops. Their monastic training equipped them to shepherd local Christian communities. Monasteries trained and restored church leadership.
Summary
After Constantine’s political and religious reforms in the early 300’s (first bullet, above), the church quickly became diluted by political opportunists, neglected the needs of the marginalized, and fell into Arian heresy. Pious Christians grew disillusioned and retreated into isolated asceticism. In response to these crises, St. Basil of Caesarea formed monastic communities. These groups emphasized community, strived towards love, served the poor, refuted heresy, and trained leaders. These monastic communities that Basil shepherded became the antidote to the social and ecclesiastical problems that arose after Constantine. By the late 300’s, Theodosius I was confident enough in the church reforms and direction to declare Nicene Christianity as the sole State Religion of the Roman Empire (second bullet, above).
Evagrius Ponticus – Nous: “… like a sapphire or the color of heaven.”
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Contemplative Prayer (series), First Thoughts, Monasticism, Patristic Pearls, The Cappadocians, The Holy Trinity on April 10, 2023
Evagrius Ponticus (c. 346-399) – was originally from Pontus, on the southern coast of the Black Sea in what is modern-day Turkey. He served as a Lector under St. Basil the Great and was made Deacon and Archdeacon under St. Gregory of Nazianzus. He was also greatly influenced by Origen of Alexandria and St. Gregory of Nyssa. In about 383, Evagrius left Constantinople, eventually retreating to the Egyptian desert and joining a cenobitic community of Desert Fathers. As a classically trained scholar, Evagrius recorded the sayings of the desert monks and developed his own theological writings. The excerpt below is from Evagrius’ Skemmata (Reflections).
- If any would see the state of their nous, let them deprive themselves of all concepts (noemata): and then they will see themselves like a sapphire or the color of heaven (Exod. 24.10); but this cannot be accomplished without apatheia [dispassion] since it requires the cooperation of God who breathes into them the kindred light.
- Apatheia is the quiet state of the reasoning soul composed of gentle temperance.
- The state of the nous is the noetic [spiritual] height like the color of heaven, upon which the light of the holy Trinity comes at the time of prayer.
Skemmata, Gnostic Chapters 1-3
St. Athanasius on St. Antony the Great: “… learn what the life of monks ought to be;”
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Ekklesia and church, Monasticism, Patristic Pearls on April 8, 2023
St. Antony the Great (Greek: Ἀντώνιος) (251 – 356)- was a Christian ascetic monk from Egypt. Antony was among the first anchorites known to go into the Egyptian desert wilderness in about AD 270. Because of his importance among the Desert Fathers and to all later Christian monastics, he is also known as the Father of All Monks. Most of what is known about Antony comes from the Life of Antony, written around 360 by St. Athanasius of Alexandria. It depicts Anthony as an illiterate holy man who, through his stark solitary ascetic life in the desert, forges an absolute connection to the divine Truth. This biography of Antony’s life helped to spread the concept of Christian monasticism into both the Greek and Latin worlds. The excerpt below is from St. Athanasius’ Life of Antony:
“Further, he was able to be of such use to all, that many soldiers and men who had great possessions laid aside the burdens of life, and became monks for the rest of their days. And it was as if a physician had been given by God to Egypt. For who in grief met Antony and did not return rejoicing? Who came mourning for his dead and did not forthwith put off his sorrow? Who came in anger and was not converted to friendship? What poor and low-spirited man met him who, hearing him and looking upon him, did not despise wealth and console himself in his poverty? What monk, having being neglectful, came to him and became not all the stronger? What young man having come to the mountain and seen Antony, did not forthwith deny himself pleasure and love temperance? Who when tempted by a demon, came to him and did not find rest? And who came troubled with doubts and did not get quietness of mind?” (87).
“Read these words, therefore, to the rest of the brethren that they may learn what the life of monks ought to be; and may believe that our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ glorifies those who glorify Him: and leads those who serve Him unto the end, not only to the kingdom of heaven, but here also— even though they hide themselves and are desirous of withdrawing from the world— makes them illustrious and well known everywhere on account of their virtue and the help they render others. And if need be, read this among the heathen, that even in this way they may learn that our Lord Jesus Christ is not only God and the Son of God, but also that the Christians who truly serve Him and religiously believe in Him, prove, not only that the demons, whom the Greeks themselves think to be gods, are no gods, but also tread them under foot and put them to flight, as deceivers and corrupters of mankind, through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” (94)
~ from: St Athanasius, Life of Antony, 87, 94
St. Basil the Great: “Homily About Ascesis – How a Monk Should be Adorned”
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Ekklesia and church, Monasticism, Patristic Pearls, The Cappadocians on April 8, 2023
St. Basil of Caesarea, also called Saint Basil the Great (330 – January 379), was a bishop of Caesarea Mazaca in Cappadocia (modern-day Turkey). He was an influential theologian who supported the Nicene Creed and opposed the heresies of the early Christian church. Together with Pachomius, he is remembered as a father of communal (coenobitic) monasticism in Eastern Christianity. Basil, together with his brother Gregory of Nyssa and his friend Gregory of Nazianzus, are collectively referred to as the Cappadocian Fathers.
“The monk, above all, must not possess anything in his life. He must have bodily isolation, proper clothing, a moderate tone of voice, and discipline speech; he must not cause a ruckus about the food and drink and he must eat in silence; he must be silent before his elders and be attentive to wiser men; he must love his peers and advise those junior in a loving way; he must move away from the immoral and the carnal and the sophisticated; he must think much and say less; he must not become impudent in his words, nor gossip and not be amenable to laughter; he must be adorned with shame, directing his gaze to the ground and his soul upward; he must not object with words of contention but rather be compliant; he must work with his hands and always keep in remembrance the end of this age; he must rejoice with hope, endure sadness, pray unceasingly and thank God for everything; he must be humble towards all and hate pride; he must be vigilant in keeping his heart pure of any evil thought; he must gather treasures in Heaven by keeping the commandments, examine himself for his thoughts and actions each day and not be involved in vain things of life and in idle talk; he must not examine inquisitively the life of idle people, but imitate the lives of the Holy Fathers; he must be happy with those who achieve virtue and not be envious; he must suffer with those suffering and weep with them and be sorry for them, but not criticise them; he must not reproach one who returns from his sin and never justify himself. Above all else he must confess before God and the men that he is a sinner and admonish the unruly, strengthen the faint-hearted, minister unto the sick and washed the feet of the saints; he must attend to hospitality and brotherly love, to be at peace with those who have the same faith and abhor the heretics; he must read the canonical books and not open even a single one of the occult; he must not talk about the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, but think and confess the uncreated and consubstantial Trinity with courage, and tell those who ask that there is the need of to be baptised, as we have received it from the tradition, to believe, as we have confessed it according to our baptism, and to glorify God, as we have believed.”
~ from: The Monastic Rule of St. Basil the Great
St. Gregory of Sinai: ‘Sowing in the Light’
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Hesychasm - Jesus Prayer, Monasticism, Patristic Pearls on April 7, 2023
St. Gregory of Sinai (c. 1260s -1346) – was a well-travelled Greek Christian monk and writer from Smyrna (modern-day İzmir, Turkey). He was instrumental in the emergence of hesychasm on Mount Athos in the early 14th century. He was a contemporary of St. Gregory Palamas.
“According to St. Paul (cf. Rom. 15:16), you “minister” the Gospel only when, having yourself participated in the light of Christ, you can pass it on actively to others. Then you sow the Logos like a divine seed in the fields of your listeners’ souls. ‘Let your speech be always filled with grace’, says St Paul (Col. 4:6), ‘seasoned’ with divine goodness. Then it will impart grace to those who listen to you with faith. Elsewhere St. Paul, calling the teachers tillers and their pupils the field they till (cf. II Tim. 2:6), wisely presents the former as ploughers and sowers of the divine Logos and the latter as the fertile soil, yielding a rich crop of virtues. True ministry is not simply a celebration of sacred rites; it also involves participation in divine blessings and the communication of these blessings to others.”
~ from: The Philokalia
Rohr: “Finding God in the depths of silence”
Posted by Dallas Wolf in First Thoughts, Hesychasm - Jesus Prayer, New Nuggets, Theology on January 24, 2023
Fr. Richard Rohr OFM, a Sojourners contributing editor, is founder of the Centre for Action and Contemplation http://www.cacradicalgrace.org in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
This article was first published in the March 2013 edition of Sojourners
Reprinted with permission from Sojourners, (800) 714-7474, http://www.sojo.net
Source: http://www.goodsams.org.au/good-oil/finding-god-in-the-depths-of-silence
BY Richard Rohr OFM
When I first began to write this article, I thought to myself, “How do you promote something as vaporous as silence? It will be like a poem about air!” But finally I began to trust my limited experience, which is all that any of us have anyway.
I do know that my best writings and teachings have not come from thinking but, as Malcolm Gladwell writes in Blink, much more from not thinking. Only then does an idea clarify and deepen for me. Yes, I need to think and study beforehand, and afterward try to formulate my thoughts. But my best teachings by far have come in and through moments of interior silence – and in the “non-thinking” of actively giving a sermon or presentation.
Aldous Huxley described it perfectly for me in a lecture he gave in 1955 titled “Who Are We?” There he said, “I think we have to prepare the mind in one way or another to accept the great uprush or downrush, whichever you like to call it, of the greater non-self”. That precise language might be off-putting to some, but it is a quite accurate way to describe the very common experience of inspiration and guidance.
All grace comes precisely from nowhere – from silence and emptiness, if you prefer – which is what makes it grace. It is both not-you and much greater than you at the same time, which is probably why believers chose both inner fountains (John 7:38) and descending doves (Matthew 3:16) as metaphors for this universal and grounding experience of spiritual encounter. Sometimes it is an uprush and sometimes it is a downrush, but it is always from a silence that is larger than you, surrounds you, and finally names the deeper truth of the full moment that is you. I call it contemplation, as did much of the older tradition.
It is always an act of faith to trust silence, because it is the strangest combination of you and not-you of all. It is deep, quiet conviction, which you are not able to prove to anyone else – and you have no need to prove it, because the knowing is so simple and clear. Silence is both humble in itself and humbling to the recipient. Silence is often a momentary revelation of your deepest self, your true self, and yet a self that you do not yet know. Spiritual knowing is from a God beyond you and a God that you do not yet fully know. The question is always the same: “How do you let them both operate as one – and trust them as yourself?” Such brazenness is precisely the meaning of faith, and why faith is still somewhat rare, compared to religion.
And yes, such inner revelations are always beyond words. You try to sputter out something, but it will never be as good as the silence itself is. We just need the words for confirmation to ourselves and communication with others. So God graciously allows us words, and gives us words, but they are almost always a regression from the more spacious and forgiving silence. Words are a much smaller container. They are always an approximation. Surely some approximations are better than others, which is why we all like good novelists, poets, and orators. Yet silence is the only thing deep enough, spacious enough, and wide enough to hold all of the contradictions that words cannot contain or reconcile.
We need to “grab for words”, as we say, but invariably they tangle us up in more words to explain, clarify, and justify what we meant by the first words – and to protect us from our opponents. From there we often exacerbate many of our own problems by babbling on even further. In Matthew 6:7, Jesus had a word for heaping up empty phrases: paganism! Only those who love us will stay with us at that point, and often love will also tell us to stop talking – which is precisely why so many saints and mystics said that love precedes and prepares the way for all true knowing. Maybe silence is even another word for love?
Most of the time, “to make a name for ourselves” like the people building the tower of Babel, we multiply words and find ourselves saying more and more about less and less. This is sometimes called gossip, or just chatter. No wonder Yahweh “scattered them”, for they were only confusing themselves (Genesis 11:4-8). Really, they were already scattered people: scattered inside and out because there was no silence.
We are all forced to overhear cell phone calls in cafés, airports, and other public places today. People now seem to fill up their available time, reacting to their boredom – and their fear of silence – often by talking about nothing, or making nervous attempts at mutual flattery and reassurance. One wonders if the people on the other end of the line really need your too-easy comforts. Maybe they do, and maybe we all have come to expect it. But that is all we can settle for when there is no greater non-self, no gracious silence to hold all of our pain and our self-doubt. Cheap communication is often a substitute for actual communion.
Words are necessarily dualistic. That is their function. They distinguish this from that, and that’s good. But silence has the wonderful ability to not need to distinguish this from that! It can hold them together in a quiet, tantric embrace. Silence, especially loving silence, is always non-dual, and that is much of its secret power. It stays with mystery, holds tensions, absorbs contradictions, and smiles at paradoxes – leaving them unresolved, and happily so. Any good poet knows this, as do many masters of musical chords. Politicians, engineers, and most Western clergy have a much harder time.
Silence is what surrounds everything, if you look long enough. It is the space between letters, words, and paragraphs that makes them decipherable and meaningful. When you can train yourself to reverence the silence around things, you first begin to see things in themselves and for themselves. This “divine” silence is before, after, and between all events for those who see respectfully (to re-spect is “to see again”).
All creation is creatio ex nihilo – from “a trackless waste and an empty void” it all came (Genesis 1:2). But over this darkness God’s spirit hovered and “there was light” – and everything else too. So there must be something pregnant, waiting, and wonderful in such voids and darkness. God’s ongoing – and maybe only – job description seems to be to “create out of nothing”. We call it grace.
God follows this pattern, as do many saints, but most of us don’t. We prefer light (read: answers, certitude, moral perfection, and conclusions) but forget that it first came from a formless darkness. This denial of silence and darkness as good teachers emerged ever more strongly after the ironically named “Enlightenment” of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Our new appreciation of a kind of reason was surely good and necessary on many levels, but it also made us impatient and forgetful of the much older tradition of not knowing, unsaying, darkness, and silence. We decided that words alone would give us truth, not realising that all words are metaphors and approximations. The desert Jesus, Pseudo-Dionysius, The Cloud of Unknowing, and John of the Cross have not been ‘in’ for several centuries now, and we are much the worse for it.
The low point has now become religious fundamentalism, which ironically knows so little about the real fundamentals. We all fell in love with words, even those of us who said we believed that “the Word became flesh”. Words offer a certain light, but flesh is much better known in humble silence and waiting.
As a general spiritual rule, you can trust this one: The ego gets what it wants with words. The soul finds what it needs in silence. The ego prefers light – immediate answers, full clarity, absolute certitude, moral perfection, and undeniable conclusion – whereas the soul prefers the subtle world of darkness and light. And by that, of course, I mean a real interior silence, not just the absence of noise.
Robert Sardello, in his magnificent, demanding book Silence: The Mystery of Wholeness, writes that “Silence knows how to hide. It gives a little and sees what we do with it”. Only then will or can it give more. Rushed, manipulative, or opportunistic people thus find inner silence impossible, even a torture. They never get to the “more”. Wise Sardello goes on to say, “But in Silence everything displays its depth, and we find that we are a part of the depth of everything around us”. Yes, this is true.
When our interior silence can actually feel and value the silence that surrounds everything else, we have entered the house of wisdom. This is the very heart of prayer. When the two silences connect and bow to one another, we have a third dimension of knowing, which many have called spiritual intelligence or even “the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:10-16). No wonder that silence is probably the foundational spiritual discipline in all the world’s religions at the more mature levels. At the less mature levels, religion is mostly noise, entertainment, and words. Catholics and Orthodox Christians prefer theatre and wordy symbols; Protestants prefer music and endless sermons.
Probably more than ever, because of iPads, cell phones, billboards, TVs, and iPods, we are a toxically overstimulated people. Only time will tell the deep effects of this on emotional maturity, relationship, communication, conversation, and religion itself. Silence now seems like a luxury, but it is not so much a luxury as it is a choice and decision at the heart of every spiritual discipline and growth. Without it, most liturgies, Bible studies, devotions, ‘holy’ practices, sermons, and religious conversations might be good and fine, but they will never be truly great or life-changing – for ourselves or for others. They can only represent the surface; God is always found at the depths, even the depths of our sin and brokenness. And in the depths, it is silent.
It comes down to this: God is, and will always be, Mystery. Only a non-arguing presence, only a non-assertive self, can possibly have the humility and honesty to receive such mysterious silence.
When you can remain at peace inside of your own mysterious silence, you are only beginning to receive the immense “Love that moves the sun and the other stars”, as Dante so beautifully says – along with the immeasurable silent space between those trillions of stars, through which this Mystery is also choosing to communicate. Silence is space, and space beyond time. Those who learn to live there are spacious and timeless people. They make and leave room for all the rest of us.
First Thoughts 