From Saint Isaac the Syrian, to his friend Mar Isho`zkha:
Make use of reading — not the kind that leads us to acquire what comes from education, but the kind that deadens your passions and manifests to you the short and clear-cut path that leads to God, which will quickly and without any [...] raise you up to a luminous ministry, to the place to which your solitary way of life is looking. I have in mind the sort of reading that does not speak in a confused way, now on one topic and now on another, sometimes introducing matters that harm and upset your spiritual meditation that belongs above the world; no, do not read anything that speaks in a common sort of way; or anything which indiscriminately instructs both you and ordinary people; or the sort that is of use for teaching all ranks of people equally; or the kind that leads you to acquire verbal disputation and training in the wisdom of this world; or the kind that informs you about the affairs and quarrels that have taken place in the Church, or the canons, and the affairs of kings, their victories and histories; or the polemic words and refutation of opposing parties. Let us leave all this kind of reading to the healthy, whereas we in our sickness should make use of medicines — topics that are specifically collected together for the healing of our passions, and the lives of the saints who have lived before our time, who conducted their solitary life in a manner that transcends the world; and accounts of the revelations that came to them, and the teaching which they received from God concerning the ordering of this solitary way of life, and concerning the sufferings and battles that they encountered for their own instruction and for the benefit of those who travel in their footsteps; and concerning the various kinds of victory and defeat, and the recoveries and falls that they endured. In short: let us occupy ourselves with books which are solely devoted to the monastic way and which tell of its ordering and outward form.Not even bread, which is so nutritious, can help a sickly stomach; mostly it will be better put aright by means of other foods and by medicines. This is not because the bread is of no use, but rather the stomach that receives it is sickly. Everything is good in its own place, but for us it is not useful.
In the case of a person who — prior to his gaining control over his thoughts and vanquishing distraction, his senses still being sickly and his conscience infirm — makes use of the kind of reading which shows him to be cultured and learned, an exegete and rich in ideas — whereas he is in fact subject to the passions: such a person has been wounded by the desire to boast and by ignorance. What knowledge is more excellent than purity? For purity reveals everything to your mind provided all your concern is that it should be present, and it will bring you close to the gift of divine vision.
From the Second Part, chapter one. Translation by Sebastian Brock, “St Isaac the Syrian: two unpublished texts.” Sobornost 19.1 (1977): 7-33; this quotation pp 20-21.
By the middle of the first paragraph of the above quotation, it becomes clear that St Isaac is not speaking to the average Christian, but to a fellow monastic. Indeed the entirety of The Second Part, the continuation of St Isaac’s famous Ascetical Homilies, is apparently a lengthy “letter” written to his friend Mar Isho`zkha (“Jesus is victorious”), an otherwise unknown monastic. And this raises an important point.
Many of the classics of “Orthodox spirituality” that we see referenced these days are works that were written or edited explicitly for a monastic audience. This is the case with St Isaac’s Second Part, as well as his Ascetical Homilies. It is the case with The Philokalia of Saints Makarios and Nikodemos. It is the case with St John Klimakos’ Ladder of Divine Ascent. These works are not for “ordinary people” and do not teach in a “common way.” As ordinary readers, we (I assume that there are vanishingly few monastic readers of my blog) (Hi, Sister Macrina!) have a wider variety of readings that are, as St Isaac describes it, healthy for us. Monastics, however, in a much more precarious and dangerous spiritual condition (one might only fall far from a greater height) do not have the luxury of the variety of reading matter that is good for us in our work in the world, in combatting error, in building up the Church, and so on. These are the jobs of the active members of the Church in the world. Monastics have other and different jobs.
Yet, even so, there is much of value for readers in the world to gain from these great writings intended solely for a monastic audience. We must, however, be absolutely clear about boundaries. We are not to think of ourselves as monks living in the world. We are not. The very idea is oxymoronic. We have much instruction on monastic asceticism in these books that is inapplicable to our lives as Christians in the world. We need always to be aware and to bracket such things off, lest we read ourselves into the delusion (πλανη!) that we are some kind of monastic. We live a particular life in the Spirit, in Christ, while monastics live another. I know several of my readers are familiar with the image of a particular kind of convert to Orthodoxy, the kind who, usually a more or less socially awkward young man, grows his beard and hair out, wears only somber-colored clothing, insists on being called by his baptismal name at all times, perhaps adopts an accent appropriate to the dominant ethnicity of his parish, and, last but most certainly not least, reads monastic literature to the exclusion of all else. Such a reading diet for a new convert is comparable to shoving filet mignon into a newborn infant’s mouth for its first meal. The poor child might choke and die, all unaware of what’s happening. It’s wrong, and we should all intervene to stop it, explaining as gently as possible that one must be aware of the advanced nature of the material, and that it might be best to wait before reading it, referring him to the priest for more direction in such. (And I’m certain that the priest will be happy to hear in advance that such a talk may be coming up; they like surprises about as much as the rest of us do.)
I don’t know of an easy solution to this problem. I know only that we should all first be aware of the problem itself, which some may not be. I am certainly not advocating a kind of censorship of any kind, or a rigid table of reading permissions (“You’ve been Orthodox for twenty-two years, so you may now read volume one of the Philokalia!”). I would advocate for the lay reader close reading (always a good thing!), a sensitive reading, keeping in mind that they’re doing the kind of reading that an elementary school student might do in her father’s books which are above her grade level. We may learn some of what is in there, but we should not expect to understand it all or even comprehend it all properly. Perhaps someone will write a book on the subject in the future, a kind of Introduction to Orthodox Monastic Literature for the Layperson. Such an author would need to be, I think, someone straddling both worlds, someone like Father Ephrem, who has founded a number of monasteries in the United States, yet who is unquestionably monastic, solidly and unshakably, and also gifted with the charism of pastoral care, a true elder. Someone like him would be able to describe how a layperson might dive for pearls in those oceanically deep Orthodox classics. In the meantime, O reader, keep your wits about you.
I read somewhere recently, though I have forgotten where, about the kinds of reading materials that are beneficial for us in this regard. The first literature to begin with is the Lives of the Saints. Then, with the middle level, come the more advanced writings, which are Patristic writings and the Bible itself, with a particular focus on the Gospels, and those works which are explicitly designed for all Christians, like The Evergetinos of St Paul. The most advanced readings, however, are those types of works I refer to above, like The Philokalia, The Ladder, and so on, which are addressed to monastics. These latter are patently not works for novices, but for those who even at merely the literary level have the experience in reading to recognize the various literary, Patristic, and Scriptural allusions contained therein, even aside from being able to recognize their own spiritual state in clarity upon their pages, and the medicines for their illnesses contained therein, as well.
Happy reading.
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This is a great post and one that reveals much struggle today and knowing what and how to read. I love to read St. Isaac and St. Ephrem knowing full well, though perhaps not full well enough, that they are beyond me, but they move my desires towards God so much especially, I’ve found’ in light of the small books by Archimandrite Vasiellios from Alexander Press in their “Mount Athos Series” (“Abba Isaac the Syrian: An Approach to His World”)
For part two of what you reveal to us above, which, it seems to me to be a difficulty everywhere and has been so in my own life, is the right books to read. I cautiously say this because I don’t see much of it anywhere in blogdom or hear much mention of it anywhere but Fr. Seraphim Rose, as I have found his writings, has tried to approach this exact struggle as one can note from just a cursory glance of his books and journal articles. Instead of seeing any criticisms of him anywhere, with the exception of his writings on the toll-houses and perhaps on creation, there is only silence. Those that I’ve talked to about him that are familiar with his writings say that he has changed their lives through reading his work. I find that he has covered so much of the novitiate understanding and misconceptions in his works in trying to give them a firm foundation. We see this especially so in his “Orthodox Theological Academy” that he held every year for the last few years of his life. He directed his writings specifically to this goal of living the Orthodox life in the monastic life and as a lay person giving much advice on reading, prayer, the Jesus Prayer, jurisdictional differences, etc. He covered a lot.
I only mention this in order to look for some responses and to see if others have found the same thing and wonder what you yourself think of this Kevin.
Matthew, thank you for your thoughtful comments.
I’m unfortunately almost entirely unfamiliar with the writings of Fr Seraphim Rose, though I know he is held in high esteem particularly among American readers who find in him a voice thoroughly familiar with US culture and many of the subtle wounds it inflicts upon souls, and how Orthodoxy is a healing balm in this context, as in every other. I have found, among my books, introductions by him, and such, but I haven’t read his lengthier works. I really don’t know enough to comment on his writing. I’m certain that some other people will be much better able to comment than I am.
I think that St Ephrem is in quite a different boat than what I describe above. Though St Ephrem may have himself been one of the ihidaya (kind of “civilian monks”), his writings, particularly his hymns, were all intended for a wider Christian audience. The hymns were sung in churches, and the writings were available to all who were literate. So these would fall into St Isaac’s category of writing which “indiscriminately instructs both you and ordinary people; or the sort that is of use for teaching all ranks of people equally.” Actually, The Evergetinos of St Paul of the Evergetidos Monastery falls into this category. St Nikodemos makes this clear in his Introduction to that enormous four-volume work, and it is indeed one of the most popular Patristic works among modern Greeks, as well, since it has been translated several times into modern Greek. There’s a fine English translation avaialble (volume one, two, three, four, or the full set in paperback or hardcover).
We have numerous sources for the lives of the Saints, as well. I’ve mentioned recently the excellent Modern Orthodox Saints series by Dr Constantine Cavarnos, of the Institute for Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies. There are a number of other books on Saints published by the Institute. Likewise, I have obtained numerous other lives from St Nectarios Press, where they list many things available pages devoted to their available books (some are just small paper pamphlets of a few pages, but invaluable nonetheless) in Lives of Individual Saints, and Lives of Groups of Saints. Eastern Christian Supply has a number of Lives of Saints available, too, some of which you won’t find easily elsewhere.
A solid foundation in the lives of the Saints is necessary for us all, of any age. It is also, I think, particularly helpful for Americans. Our culture raises us to doubt the miraculous, to set aside faith for practicality, and sets us up to expect results at the push of a button. All three are contrary to Christianity, which is miraculous from beginning to end, requires faith and trust in God as a surrender of ourselves into the hands of our Creator, and establishes in us a desire to continue the struggle towards closer and closer union with God throughout the rest of our lives, something which is not achieved overnight or after listening to a forty-five minute lecture on theosis, or by treating an elder or spiritual father or mother as some kind of guru whose pithy sayings elicit a feeling of contentment and a serene smile, but if that’s as far as we go with it, we have done nothing. We are bombarded with various forms of “spirituality” these days, but our culture consciously shuts out the Holy Spirit, doing all it can to avoid repentance and transformation. Through the Lives of the Saints, some of which Lives are written by other Saints, we learn that conversion is a lifelong process, and that the successes of the Saints in their purity often came only after lengthy and difficult struggles to overcome the passions and bring their minds and bodies into line with the precepts of God. We learn in them that faith is a thing that is not subject to rationalization, and that we must indeed scorn rationalization when it attempts to undermine faith. It is indeed a good thing to begin with the Lives of the Saint, and never to stop reading them! And the humility of the Saints is something that is necessary for us to adapt and imitate until it is indeed a natural part of ourselves. Without humility, one only pretends at being a Christian. These are lessons we especially as Americans desperately need to learn.
When I was a catechumen there were two points that my spiritual father would repeat quite often. One was “Read the lives of the Saints. Read the lives of the Saint. Read the lives of the Saints.” The second is like the first: “Read the Church Fathers. Read the Church Fathers. Read the Church Fathers.” This encouraged the buying of St. Nicolai’s “The Prologue of Ohrid” as the first amongst many lives of the Saints to be purchased. I’ve also always tried to give this work to all of the newly-illumined that I’ve known.
I agree with your above distinctions between St. Ephrem and St. Isaac. I lump them together only for the simple fact of being Syrian. I’ve always found St. Ephrem’s hymns beautiful during the Fasts and Feasts. Speaking of the Syrians, had you noted this – http://rocorunity.blogspot.com/2009/04/russian-orthodox-pick-oxford-educated.html
Thank-you for your kind and helpful reply. As always, you remain on my feed, and I’m still hungry.
Congratulations to Bishop Hilarion!
Thank you for the link to that site. It will be good reading.
The Prologue is a great thing to read, isn’t it? St Nikolai did a beautiful thing for us all. We’re all starving for these things, as our souls let us know, in various ways. This is one kind of feasting that is always permitted: the spiritual kind!
I failed to mention a few things in light of Fr. Seraphim, so her are a few thoughts.
I’ve found Fr. Seraphim Rose relevant to the points you mention as he constantly introduced the Saints to the audience of “The Orthodox Word” and through his larger writings such as his translations of the Vita Patrum and the first English writing on St. Paisius Velichkovsky. A close friend of his also contributed many monographs of the Saints – I.M. Kontzevitch.
As well, Fr. Seraphim’s first spiritual father was Archbishop (now Saint) John Maximovitch under whom he studied Orthodoxy and took courses that St. John had organized in San Francisco (they ended after Fr. Seraphim, then Eugene, graduated). He was also a dear friend to one of the last inheritors of the spirit of Optina, Bishop Nektary. From these two giants, but also through several more, he learned what true Orthodoxy is and was blessed to share this knowledge/life through the journal and various writings.
There are two prominent groups that grew out of his work – the St. Xenia Sisterhood and Death to The World – a “punks turned monks” group that is still active. His influence has been widespread but especially so in Russia where, during the Communist years, they were able to teach us about the sufferings of the Church under Communism and also to spread Orthodox literature into the USSR.
Many are the threads that weave their way throughout his works. We find the emphasis on the heart and compassion over against always having correct doctrine and making sure others do as well. He emphasizes that Western Christianity was Orthodox Christianity as shown in the Vita Patrum. This love for Western Saints he inherited from St. John Maximovitch who was singly responsible for the glorification of many Western Saints that we hadn’t been aware of. Most of all, though, he was very sober. Considering he was an American “convert”, trained in Far Eastern studies with a command of various Far Eastern languages and aware of the history of America which lacked an Orthodox “phronema” we can see his soberness in a reaction to a comment Fr. Herman posed to him. Observing Fr. Seraphim’s silent contemplation, Fr. Herman would tell him half-joking, “You’re a hesychast!” – meaning a “silent one” engaged in direct contemplation of Divinity. Fr. Seraphim, however, did not like this term applied to himself. He even became indignant, saying, “I don’t know what that means.” Of course he knew intellectually, but he did not want to pretend to understand it from experience. He detested posing and fakery of any kind. For him, spiritual life had to be first of all down to earth, filled with humility and sober awareness of one’s low spiritual state.
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