37. To The Novice, Lanzo.
The Letters of St. Anselm
NOTES 1. Archbishop Lanfranc is referred to here.
2. See Epp 32, 33, 34, 35. Maurice might have been the bearer of all these letters when he went to Canterbury from Bee in 1073.
37. TO THE NOVICE, LANZO.
Anselm assures Lanzo, a novice at Cluny, of their lasting, mutual love despite their separation by distance in obedience to the Lord, and of their eventual union in the Lord. At the request of Ursus he warns him of the snares and tricks of the devil and stresses the importance of stabilitas loci, which helps calm the restless mind and enables the novice and young monk to become content with the monastery and its customs, and to place his trust in divine providence.
THE BELOVED TO HIS BELOVED, THE FRIEND TO HIS FRIEND, THE
BROTHER TO HIS BROTHER, ANSELM TO LANZO1: WISHING HIM
HOLINESS IN THIS LIFE AND BLISS IN THE LIFE TO COME.
WHEN I CONSIDER, DEAREST, your desire and mine, by which we long for one another, there is one thing that con soles me about our separation: that by divine clemency I hope for our eternal union in the life to come. I am sure of my own feelings and I have no doubt of yours, that no matter what geographical regions may separate us, yet, out of our two souls charity will make one. Hence it comes about that our souls, present in love to one another, embrace each other, and being absent from one another in life, long for each other. But when the pilgrimage of this life has come to an end, with the help of him towards whom we are travel ling and in whom we place our hope, we shall come together in that homeland towards which we are striving, as it were, by different routes. There we shall rejoice more heartily about each other, God granting, the more patiently we now bear divine disposition for us.
Meanwhile, however, since to do what renews and in flames charity is not to resist God's disposition but to obey it, we ought at least to visit each other from time to time by mutual greetings. What I have written up to now in this
The Letters of St. Anselm letter could suffice, but at the behest of Lord Ursus, our mutual friend, I feel compelled to give you some words of admonition, which your charity, not my fatuity, has always made agreeable to you. Even if I cannot tell you anything you do not already know, yet the words you receive from a beloved friend will cling to your memory better.
You have entered, dearest friend, and have professed service in Christ's army; in it you must not only repel the manifest violence of the enemy when he attacks you but also guard against his cunning when he seems to be coun seling you. Often, when the malicious one cannot openly annihilate Christ's new recruit by inflicting a wound of ill will, the sly devil tries to destroy him by maliciously offer ing him a cup of toxic reason to slake his thirst. For when he cannot overwhelm the monk with hatred for the life he has professed, he tries to undermine him with disgust for the way of life in which he finds himself. And even if he seems to permit him to hold on to his monastic vow, yet he never stops trying to convince him by various kinds of cunning arguments that he was exceedingly foolish and im prudent to have taken it on under such superiors, among such companions, or in such a place, so that all the time he is persuading him to be ungrateful for the goodness be gun by God, the monk will by a just judgement make no progress for the better, nor will he hold on to what he has received, or he will continue in that life unprofitably. Cer tainly, as long as he is forever dreaming up elaborate plans to move, or, if he is unable to move, at least dwelling on the bad start he made, he never attempts to strive for the goal of perfection. For since the foundation which he laid displeases him he will never wish to build the frame of a good life upon it.
It follows, then, that just as any young tree, if frequently transplanted or often disturbed by being torn up after hav ing recently been planted in a particular place, will never be able to take root, [and] will rapidly wither and bring no fruit to perfection, similarly an unhappy monk, if he often
The Letters of St. Anselm
moves from place to place at his own whim, or remaining in one place is frequently agitated by his hatred for it, never achieves stability with roots of love, grows weary in the face of every useful exercise and does not grow rich in the fruit fulness of good works. And when he realizes—if perchance he does reflect on it—that he is making progress, not towards good, but towards evil, he unjustly assigns the whole blame for his misery not to his own behavior but to that of others, and hence unhappily works himself up to even greater hatred of those among whom he lives.
Wherefore it behooves anyone taking on the vow of monastic life to strive with total application of his mind to set down roots of love in whatever monastery he made his profession—unless it is so bad that he is forced to do evil against his will—and to refrain from judging the behavior of others or the customs of the place, however useless they appear to him, as long as they are not contrary to divine precepts. Let him rejoice at having at last found a place where he can stay, not unwillingly but voluntarily, for the rest of his life, and having put away all anxiety about mov ing from one place to another and, being at peace, let him resolve to devote himself assiduously to pursuing the singleminded exercise of a holy life.
If it seems to him that he can strive with spiritual fervor for greater and more profitable things than the practices of his present monastery permit, he should either reckon that he has been deceived into preferring one practice to another equally good or some inferior practice for another more valu able, or even into presuming that he can do what he can not; or he must at least believe with certainty that he has not deserved what he longs for. And if he is deceived, let him give thanks for God's mercy through which he is saved from his error, lest through that error, by changing either his abode or state of life without any gain, or even with loss, to himself he might incur the charge of inconstancy and fick leness in vain, or else, exhausted by attempting to reach better things beyond his strength, he may fall back into his
The Letters of St. Anselm old, inferior ways, or into worse habits than before.2 If however, he truly longs for better things than his present life offers, yet does not yet deserve them, he should pa tiently bear divine judgement, which never unjustly refuses anything to anybody, lest by annoying the just Judge through impatience he deserve not to receive what he is lacking and to lose what he has received, or, because he does not love, to hold on to it to no purpose. Indeed, in those things which he is lacking and for which he longs he should be well aware of either the mercy or the justice shown him; rejoicing in the things he has received, he should give the thanks he owes to divine bounty. But since out of the tempestuous hurricanes of the world he has been able to reach some port, he should beware of bringing the wind of fickleness and the hurricane of impatience into the tranquility of the port, to this end, let his peaceful mind be calm, continually protected by constancy and meekness, completely free to be anxious about the fear of God and the delights of his love. For fear guards the soul through anxi ety, but love perfects it through delight.
I know that these matters require fuller treatment either in writing or in speaking, so it may be more fully under stood with what trickery the ancient serpent ensnares the ignorant monk with temptations of this kind, and, on the other hand, with what reasons the wise monk can refute and destroy his cunning cajolery. But since I have already overstepped the brevity demanded by a letter, and every thing I have said, or ought to have said, in it deals with preserving tranquility of mind, this following short exhor tation will bring our letter to an end. Do not imagine, dearest friend, that I said this because I suspected you of suffering some restlessness of mind. But since the aforementioned
Dom Ursus3 urged me to write some admonition to you, I do not know how I can better instruct you than by warn ing you about something I know frequently worms its way in among novices under the guise of the right intention.
The Letters of St. Anselm
Therefore, my friend and dearest brother, your beloved friend counsels, admonishes, and begs you from the bottom of his heart to strive with all your strength for the peace of mind without which no one can detect the tricks of the cunning enemy or discern the ever-narrow paths of virtue.
Indeed, the monk living in a monastery will never manage to reach it without constancy and meekness—and meekness is the inseparable companion of patience—and without striv ing to observe the regulations of his monastery, providing they are not forbidden by divine command, even if he fails to see any reason in them.
Farewell, and may almighty God perfect your going in his paths so that your footsteps may not slip,4 so that in righteous ness you will appear before the face of God and be reward ed when his glory appears.5 Pray that I may be with you just as I pray you may be with me.6 c. 1072-1073.
NOTES 1. See Ep 2.
2. Mt 12:45, Lk 11:26.
3. See VA 34.
4. Ps 16:5.
5. Ps 16:15.
6. This is Anselm's most important letter on the monastic way of life.
Part of it is included in Eadmer's Vita Anselmi; see VA, 32-34. As arch bishop he later advised Warner, a monk of Christ Church, Canter bury, to read it; see Ep 335.