Chapter 7
do not speak with one another out of reverence, lest some strange sort of relaxation (foreign to the spirit of asceticism) develop therefrom." On one occasion, when Archbishop Theophilus (f 412) came to visit Abbot Pambo, expecting to hear some maxim from his lips, the latter is reported to have said:
"If he derives no benefit from my silence, he will hardly glean any profit from my words."
Some monks who were sailing on a ship down the Nile on a visit to the great Antony were passing the time by discussing passages from Holy Scrip ture, the writings of the desert fathers, or the question of manual labor. One monk who was traveling with them thought that their manner of filling in the hours was somewhat blameworthy. "Your stable," he said to them, "has no door; anyone can go into a stall and untie your ass." Silence is indispensable to interior recollection. "If you are a taciturn man, you will have peace of soul, no matter where you live." Another incentive for keeping silence is the fear of sinning through the tongue. Abbot Sisoes said: "For thirty years I have been praying thus: 'Lord Jesus, guard me against my tongue,' and yet I fall and sin by it daily."
Still, with all the emphasis placed upon outward taciturnity, the desert fathers invariably concluded that the important element in it was the spirit of silence. In reply to the question, which was better, to be silent or to speak,
Abbot Poimen answered: "He who is silent for God's sake does well; he who speaks for God's sake does equally well." Another maxim of Poimen's was:
"A man appears to be silent, but his heart sits in judgment upon others. Such a man is always talking. Another man may be speaking from dawn until dusk and yet keep silence, for he does not speak without an urgent reason." The most excellent kind of speech is "conversation with God," that is to say, pray er. Even at the highest level of prayer, speech will sometimes give way to silence, namely, when the soul is wholly in union with God (cf. Cassian, In stitutes ix, 25). The abbot will ever and again seek to train his monks in the habit of silence, because without it true recollection or concentration upon God and divine things is impossible.
SEVENTH CHAPTER
The Virtue of Humility Loudly, brethren, does Holy Writ cry to us and say: "Every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled, and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted" (Luke xiv, 11). When it says this,
therefore, it is showing us that every exaltation is a kind of pride, against which the prophet is ever on his guard, saying:
"Lord, my heart is not exalted, nor are my eyes disdainful.
Neither have I given myself to matters too great or too wonder ful above me." Yet what end would it serve "if I were not humbly minded, if I exalted my soul: as a child is weaned of its mother's milk, so dost thou requite my soul" (cf. Ps. cxxx, 1-2).
If, then, brethren, we would reach the heights of greatest humility and arrive quickly at that divine exaltation to which through humility one can ascend in this present life, we must by our upward-striving actions erect a ladder similar to the one which appeared to Jacob in a dream, upon which the angels were shown descending and ascending.1 Doubtless, by this de scent and ascent we are given to understand nothing else but a downfall through exaltation of self and an ascent through humility. Now our life in this world is that upraised ladder, which has been erected by the Lord for the humble of heart, and into the sides of which our holy calling has fitted the various rungs of humility and dicipline up which we have to climb.
The first degree of humility, then, is this: that a man keep the fear of God ever before his eyes, utterly shun forgetfullness, and always bear in mind everything that God has commanded, so that he may always ponder in his heart how severely hell tor ments those who despise him by their sins and how eternal life has been prepared for those that fear him.
And while guarding himself at every hour against his sins and his vices, that is, against his thoughts, his tongue, his hands, his feet, his own will, as well as the desires of his own flesh, let a man believe that God from his throne in heaven is looking down upon him at every moment, and that his whole conduct in every place passes in review before the Lord's eyes and is reported to him every hour by the angels.
1 It is possible that St. Benedict drew his comparison, so familiar to the early
Church, directly from the Easter Letter of Thcophilus, bishop of Alexandria, which St. Jerome translated into Latin about the year 402 (Letter xcviii, 3). The ladder of humility in the metaphor is to be understood in its broadest sense as the Holy
The prophet demonstrates this for us when he intimates that God is ever present in our thoughts by the words: "The searcher of hearts and reins is God" (Ps. vii, 10); and elsewhere:
"The Lord knoweth the thoughts of men" (Ps. xciii, 11); and again: "For the thoughts of men shall confess to thee" (cf. lxxv,
11). In order, then, that the good brother may be concerned about his perverse thoughts, let him ever say in his heart: "Then shall I be spotless before him if I keep myself from my iniquity"
(cf. Ps. xvii, 24).
We are indeed forbidden to do our own will, for the Script ures tell us "to turn away from thy own will" (Ecclus. xviii, 30).
Likewise, also, let us ask the Lord that his will be done in us (cf.
Matt, vi, 10). Wherefore, appropiately so, we are taught not to do our own will in that we watch ourselves as to what the Scrip tures warn us against: "There are ways that seem to men right: but the ends thereof lead to the depths of hell" (cf. Prov. xvi,
25); and that we tremble as well at the thought of what was said of careless men: "They are corrupt and have become abomin able in their lusts" (Prov. xiii, 1).
We must always believe that God is present (even) in our bodily desires, for as the prophet says to the Lord: "All my de sire is before thee" (Ps. xxxvii, 10). Consequently, we must be on the watch against these evil desires, because death is posted near the threshold of delight. Wherefore the Scriptures com mand us, saying: "Go not after thy lusts" (Ecclus. xviii, 30).
Therefore, if the "eyes of the Lord behold the good and the wicked" (Prov. xv, 3), and if he is ever looking down from Rule describes it. Underlying it is the thought that a man alienates himself from God through haughty self-exaltation and draws near to him through humble selfabasement. The ladder is capable of a double interpretation and is so taken: first, as to our life on earth. This interpretation is presently abandoned and another one is introduced: both body and soul must travel on the road to humility. St.
Benedict carries neither interpretation to its ultimate conclusion. —The comparison of the ladder up which the monk must climb to perfection, brings out the optimism of the old monks, who were still under the influence of Origin in the matter of a man's personal ability to begin and accomplish. The Pauline and Augustinian way of looking at the problem, a way of thinking which St. Irenaeus of Lyons (f c. 202) had also advocated, was more pertinent to the truth, in that it is not so much that man mounts up to God as that God "steps down to man" (cf. the Credo).
heaven upon the children of men, "to see if there be any that understand and seek God" (Ps. xiii, 2), and if our whole con duct (factorum nostrorum opera) is reported to him day and night by the angels appointed over us, then, brethren, must we at every hour be on the watch, as the prophet says in the psalm, lest the Lord behold us at some moment wandering off into evil and becoming unprofitable, and, though sparing us for the nonce because he is good and waits for us to repent, say to us at some future time: "These things thou hast done, and I have been silent" (cf. Ps. xlix, 21).
The second degree of humility is this: if a man love not his own will nor take delight in fulfilling his personal desires, but in his actions puts into effect the voice of the Lord, who says:
"I came not to do my own will, bnt the will of him who has sent me" (John vi, 38). One passage (in a certain work) says: "Selfwill has its punishment; compulsion (through the will of another) v/ins the crown."1
The third degree of humility is: if a man for the love of God submits himself in all obedience to the will of a superior in imitation of the Lord, of whom the Apostle says: "He was obedient unto death (cf. Phil, ii, 8).2
The fourth degree of humility is: if a man in this same obedi ence, putting up in silent awareness with hard and repugnant things, indeed, at each and every injury inflicted upon him is silent and does not become discouraged or even run away as the Scriptures counsel: "He that shall persevere unto the end, he shall be saved" (Matt, x, 22); likewise, "Let thy heart take courage and wait for the Lord" (cf. Ps. xxvi, 14). And to show that the faithful man must bear everything, even adversities, for the Lord's sake, they say again in the name of the suffering:
"For thy sake we suffer death all the day long; we are rated as 1 Taken from the Acta Martyrum of St. Agape. Chironia, and Irene.
2 Abbot Hyperechius said: "Monastic obedience is a jewel. He who possesses it may go freely and with courage into the presence of the Crucified; for the crucified Lord, too, became obedient unto death."
sheep for the slaughter" (cf. Ps. xliii, 22). And then, serene in the hope of eternal reward, they (the suffering) go on their way rejoicing and saying: "But in all these things we overcome through him who hath loved us" (cf. Rom. viii, 37). Likewise, in another place the Holy Scriptures say: "For thou O, Lord, hast proved us: thou hast tried us by fire as silver is tried in a fur nace. Thou hast brought us into a net, thou hast laid afflictions on our backs" (cf. Ps. lxv, 10). And to show that we ought to be under a superior, they continue: "Thou hast placed human be ings over our heads" (cf. Ps. lxv, 12). But in the midst of ad versities and injustices, by their patience they (the sufferers) put into practice that precept of the Lord, that when they are struck on one cheek, they offer the other; to him who takes away their coat they offer their cloak also; when they are forced to go one mile, they go two (cf. Matt, v, 39ff); and with the Apostle Paul, they bear with false brethren and bless those who revile them.
The fifth degree of humility is this: if a man, through a humble confession, does not conceal from his abbot all the evil thoughts that come into his heart or the evil things he has per petrated in secret, as the Scriptures admonish us when they say:
"Make known thy way to the Lord and hope in him" (cf. Ps. xxxvi, 5); and they also say: "Confess to the Lord, for he is good, and his mercy endureth forever" (cf. Ps. cv, 1); and in like manner the prophet: "I have made known my sins to thee, and my injustice I have not concealed. I said: I will openly con fess against myself my injustices to the Lord; and thou forgavest me the impiety of my heart" (cf. Ps. xxxi, 5f).
The sixth degree of humility is this: if a monk be satisfied with the least and last of everything and look upon himself as an inept and unworthy workman in all his assigned tasks, saying with the prophet: "I am brought to nothing and without under standing. I became as a beast of burden before thee; and yet I am always with thee (i.e., in thy heart)" (cf. Ps. lxxii, 22-23).1
The seventh degree of humility is this: if a man not only 1 Abbot Nester said to himself: "You and a donkey are of the same class. As the donkey is beaten and does not strike back, suffers injury and says nothing, so you must also act in accord with that passage in the psalm: 'I was become as a beast of burden, and yet I am with thee' " (Vitae Patrum).
i?peak thus with his tongue but really believe with the inmost feeling of his heart that he is lower and meaner than everyone, humbling himself and saying with the prophet: "I am a worm and no man: the reproach of men and the outcast of the peo ple" (Ps. xxi, 7).1 "I exalted myself and have been humbled and confounded" (cf. Ps. lxxxvii, 16). And again: "It is good for me that thou hast humbled me, so that I might learn thy com mandments" (cf. Ps. cxviii, 71).
The eighth degree of humility is this: if a monk does only what the common rule of the monastery and the example of his elders encourage him to do.
The ninth degree of humility is this: if a monk restrains his tongue in speaking and, guarding his habit of silence, does not speak until he is questioned, as the Scriptures indicate: "In the multitude of words there shall not want sin" (Prov. x, 19), and that "a talkative man shall not prosper on the earth" (cf. Ps. cxxxix, 12).
The tenth degree of humility is this: if a man be not quick and prompt to laugh, for it is written: "The fool lifteth up his voice in laughter" (Ecclus. xxi, 23).
' Our Lord prayed this psalm on the cross (cf. Mark xv, 34). —There were always monks who chose to appear as idiots, renouncing thereby their good name and their personal honor for the love of Christ. These were monks who took St. Paul literally and became fools (cf. 1 Cor. i, 21 ff; iii, 18; and iv, 10). The earliest example of this type of ascetic was a nun in one of the convents of Pachomius, who was looked upon as insane and served as a butt for the sport of her sisters.
The desert father Piturun once received a revelation concerning her. "Go to the convent at Tabennisi (on the upper Nile)," he was told, "and you will see there a nun with a diadem on her head. She is better than you." Among the nuns there, the abbot did not see any with a crown. Finally, the "crazy" nun was brought before him, "The abbot fell down at her feet and said: 'Give me your blessing.' " He had seen the glory on her brow. The nuns who stood nearby said: "She is an idiot." Piturun scolded them. "You are the idiots," he said.
"For she is your Atnma and mine; in a word, she is a spiritual mother." The nun could not bear the honor and secretly left the cloister (Palladius, Vitae Patrum xxxiv). The most outstanding instance of this idiocy for the love of Christ was
St. Simeon of Emesa (f c. 550). It would not be correct to dismiss this radical form of old-monastic asceticism merely as an aberration. As long as it cannot be established as having been binding upon any individual monk or hermit, it must always be borne in mind how much and how closely the early monks pat terned their external conduct upon the life of the Savior. Has not his public life, even more so his death and his cross, ever remained "a stumbling block" and a "foolishness" to the people of this world (cf. 1 Cor. i, 23)?
The eleventh degree of humility is this: if, when he speaks, a monk converses gently and without laughter, humbly and with gravity, and speaks few and sensible words; nor is noisesome in his manner of speaking; as it is written: "The wise man is known by the fewness of his words."1
The twelfth degree of humility is this: if a monk manifests his humility to those who see him, not only in his heart, but also in his outward bearing, that is, at the Opus Dei, in the oratory, in the cloister, in the fields, on a journey, in short everywhere, seated or standing or walking, ever with his head bowed and his gaze fixed upon the ground; if he says ever to himself as did the publican in the Gospel, with his eyes cast to earth:
"Lord, 1 a sinner, am not worthy to raise my eyes to heaven"
(cf. Luke xviii, 13), and with the prophet: "I am bowed down and utterly humbled" (cf Ps. xxxvii, 9; and Ps. cxviii, 107).2
Consequently, once the monk has mounted these twelve steps of humility, he will presently arrive at that perfect love of God,
1 This is number 34 of the Maxims of Sextus, a pagan collection of 451 maxims that had later been revised in conformity with Christian doctrines about the year
200, and a century or so afterwards translated into Latin by Rufinus (j410).
2 The Holy Rule here reminds us that from the early monastic viewpoint the monk is a slave, or, to put it less baldly, a bondservant of Christ. The Rule uses the expression, "service of bondage" (servitium, servitus), four times in the course of its chapters (ii, xvi, xlix, & 1). The bondservant is without rights. Like the slave, the monk no longer has the free disposal of anything, not even of his own body or will, because he has signed them all away (chap, xxxiii). Abbot Silvanus said: "I am a slave. My Lord said to me: 'Do my work, and I will nourish thee.
Ask not wherewith. Do not thou inquire whether I have it or whether I steal it or whether I have it stored away. Only labor, and I will nourish thee.' " Said
Abbot Nilus: "The slave who neglects the work of his lord must prepare himself for blows." The whole lowly attitude of the slave becomes him. In early Chris tian jurisprudence, he was classed with the dead. Abbot Arsenius refused to accept a legacy left him by a deceased relative, because, as he said: "I died long before he did: he is only recently deceased." Abbot Poimen on one occasion refused to speak, despite the fact that he had been requested to do so. "I am dead," he said.
"A dead man does not speak." St. Paul's dictum concerning the Lord: "Who . . . taking the form of a servant" (Phil, ii, 7), stood as an ever cogent incentive before the eyes of the old monachism.
Modern ecclesiastical and monastic jurisprudence has mitigated considerably the early conception of the monk as a "slave," but it has by no means entirely abandoned it. Even today the monk cannot, for example, acquire any property or real estate for himself. What accrues to him by way of legacies, gifts, or earn ings (salary, etc.) belongs to his monastery. He cannot enter a valid contract of marriage, or any other personal contract for that matter.
which, because it has become perfect, "casteth out fear" (cf.
John iv, 18). Then by means of it (that perfect love), everything that he has heretofore observed, not without anxiety, he will now begin to keep without any effort whatsoever, just as if it had become second nature, or as the result of habit, no longer from the dread of hell but for the love of Christ and as the pro duct of his good habit1 and his delight in virtue. This the Lord, through the Holy Spirit, will graciously show his workman, now cleansed of his sins and vices.
Excursus 1.
The Triune God.—There is no paean of praise lo the Lord that rings out so many times in the "Work of God" as the doxology, "Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit." The monks always rise when they chant or recite these words (if they are not already standing) and bow in reverence for the Most Holy Trinity (cf. chap. ix). Without doubt, this everrecurring song of praise was an emphatic profession of faith, an acknowledg ment of belief in the orthodox Trinity, so solemnly taken under the Church's guardianship at the Council of Nicaea (325) against the heretic Arius—and this at a time when the Catholic population lived in the midst of the Arian
Goths, then so inimical to the true Church. Moreover, this frequent repetition of the Gloria Patri, etc., brings the monk's mind back again and again to the reality of the Triune God, of his omnipotence, omnipresence, and omniscience, a reality that permeates and dominates the cloister and its inmates. There is no escaping this reality of the Trinity, which, above everything else, rises be fore the eyes of the monks during their prayers together. The innermost re cesses of the Koinobion and of the human heart lie open before the Most Holy and Triune Deity. His living faith tells the monk that it is the Triune God who created the world, who possesses an infinitely unlimited power over the crea ture, who directs and ultimately will decide the fate of the human race.
Fear of the Lord.—It is out of this lively faith that there wells up the fear of the Lord. The more thoroughly the monk in his faith grasps this divine re ality, the deeper will be his awe and reverence in the presence of God. We are dealing here with a real, but of course, with a grace-inspired fear. And this fear, from the early Christian and monastic viewpoint, was a three-fold one:
' It is possible that in adding the phrase, "as the product of his good habit," which is wanting in Cassian, St. Benedict endeavored to soften the Arian "natural ism" that still adhered to the mysticism of the Abbot of Marseilles. In any event, the turn of phrase, "habit becomes second nature," was a common one in Latin rhetoric, nor was it wanting among the Greeks. In the mind of St. Benedict, the ultimate goal of the monk in this world was the achievement of goodness as if it were natural to him, and the means of reaching that goal was by way of such a "habit."
the fear of the slave, or bondservant; the fear of the wage-earner; and the fear of the Son. The slave and the wage-earner represented the neophyte, or the "beginner," in the spiritual life; the son, or the child, was the advanced stu dent, or graduate, so to speak. The first fears the Lord out of his dread of hellfire. That the monk is a slave before God was a primitive monastic conception and rather clearly brought out in the Holy Rule. The fires of hell are a fear ful reality and are mentioned there more than once. St. Benedict sanctions this first type of fear with strong emphasis. And he must sanction it, because he describes his ordinances as a "Rule for beginners" (chap. Ixxiii). The wageearner fears God, because he is afraid of losing his promised wage or reward.
This fear also St. Benedict holds up before the eyes of his monks. Not only the fear of hell with its eternal horrors, but also eternal life promised to the obedient monk, was to him, but in still greater measure, a compelling motive for good monastic conduct.
But the fear of losing everlasting life is likewise still the fear of the "be ginner." It is the son, finally, who no longer fears God because of hell's tor ments or the loss of eternal happiness. The son, the child of God, fears him for his own sake—out of perfect love. Said the great Antony: 1 fear God no longer, but I love him; for 'love casteth out fear' " (cf. John iv, 18). The monk is indeed a bondservant and a laborer. But on account of his posession of the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Christ, he is also a "son," also a "child." He may. then, in this Spirit dare to say, "Abba Father" (cf. chap. ii). Although the Holy Rule was written primarily for neophytes, it nevertheless wants them to keep their gaze fixed upon this highest degree of perfection. And the greater the advances the monk makes towards that topmost rung of the ladder, the more compelling and the deeper will grow in him this third fear, the "fear" before all else of losing possession of his beloved, viz., the Lord (cf. conclusion of chap. vii). Said the Abbot Matoe: "The nearer a man draws to God, the more does he recognize himself as a sinner."
The Holy Rule takes it entirely for granted that the monk will be animated by this threefold fear: the fear of the bondservant, of the laborer, and of the son. It is this fear that fills the life of the monk with an earnestness that will not be denied. It constitutes the fundamental attitude out of which the gen uine monastic virtues of obedience (chap, v), taciturnity (chap, vi), and humility (chap, vii) must naturally grow. Abbot Dorotheus of Gaza in Pale stine, a contemporary of St. Benedict, speaks of this threefold fear in his fourth conference on St. John's epigram, "Perfect love casteth out fear" (1
John iv, 18). Without this fear of God there can be no true piety. And devoid of this fear the soul is a desert waste, wholly barren, and scorched by hot winds. Moreover, the lack of it generates the most lamentable condition of the soul. He who does not have it denies in practice the truths contained in the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of the Holy Rule. Consequently, this fear of the Lord must dominate the entire conduct of the monk. In it and through it,
he fulfills from day to day the "Work of God," his song of praise in honor of his Creator (cf. chap, xiv), as well as his private prayers (cf. chap. xx). Like wise, inspired by this fear, he performs his manual labor or administers any official position he may hold in the monastery. The Holy Rule insists ever and again that the abbot, too, must be motivated by this salutary fear.
Excursus II.
Humility.—The Latin word humilitas (Demur in German), from which we get our English humility, really means "lowliness" or "abasement" (literal ly near the ground humus). The reader of the Rule must bear this always in mind, for it contrasts abasement (that is, humility) with exaltation. The Ger man word Demut is not an old-Germanic term, but originated at a time when
Christianity came to the German tribes. Diomuoti meant the "courage to serve." The opposite of Demut is Hochmut (hauteur, haughtiness, pride). The proud or haughty man says: "I will not serve" (Jer. ii, 20).
Linder humility as outlined in the Holy Rule, is meant not so much the mere virtue of humility as such, that is, modesty or self-abasement, but prin cipally that attitude of submission towards/ God and one's fellow men, so be fitting the monk, which is the product of his faith-inspired fear of the Lord.
A hermit once asked Abbot Cronius how one might acquire humility.
"Through the fear of the Lord," he answered. "And how may a man acquire the fear of the Lord?" the other continued. "How else except through a remembrance of death and the judgment of God?" was the reply. Abbot Joan nes stated that "the monk must strive to acquire the virtue of humility before everything else. It was the first precept of the Savior when he said: 'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven' " (Matt, v, 3). St.
Antony saw all the snares of the devil scattered over the length and breadth of the earth. With a sigh he asked: "Who shall escape them?" Then he heard a voice that said: "Humility." Abbot Macarius once encountered Satan, who wanted to abuse him. But he could not do so. "A great force emanates from you, Macarius," he said, "so that I am unable to do anything against you. You see, when I observe you doing anything, I do it, too. You fast; I fast also.
You watch without sleep; I don't sleep anyway. On one point, however, you are head and shoulders above me." "What is that?" asked Macarius. Where upon the devil: "That is your humility. That is why I cannot do you any harm." In these tales of the early monks, we come across some glorious ex amples of self-abasement.
The seventh chapter of the Rule is the monk's school of virtue, in which he learns in an easily understood and impressive form how to mount the in dividual rungs of the ladder that leads to the heights of perfection. Since the time of Origen (f 254), this beautiful simile of the graduated ascent to holi ness has been familiar to the language of Christian piety. It drives home the consciousness of a great truth, that it is only gradually, step by step, rung by rung, that one reaches the desired goal, consequently, never by one sudden
spurt of speed. Abbot John Cassian, who furnished St. Benedict with many a building stone for his spiritual edifice, speaks of ten "signs of humility," which resemble very closely in content the twelve degrees in chapter seven of the Rule (Institutes iv, 39).
Abbot John of Sinai (f 649), who knew and revered the great Cassian, set up the famous "Ladder of Paradise," which had thirty rungs. The first three rungs dealt with renunciation and departure from the world. The fourth and most extensive one dealt with obedience; the 22nd, with pride; the 25th, with humility; and the 30th, with the three theological virtues. Undoubtedly at the base of this picture of a graduated ascent to perfection there lay a certain order and consistency, a certain gradual progress. One must, however, ob serve a wise moderation if he wishes to discover any detailed articulation be tween the individual degrees. The same observation applies to the twelve de grees of humility. The first degree presents us with the fundament, or solid rock-bottom, of the interior life: the fear of the Lord and a consistent dwelling in his presence. The second degree to the fifth, humility in the monk's relation to the abbot. The sixth and seventh, humility in his relation to his fel low men. The eighth to the twelfth, humility as manifested by one's exterior conduct. Within this group one can recognize a gradation from the easier to the more difficult practices of the interior life. In all this, however, it must be borne in mind that the spiritual life cannot be compressed into a preconceived mold or pattern.
There is a very deep reason why St. Benedict selected humility as the specifically essential element in the pursuit of monastic virtue. In the primi tive monastic teaching concerning the eight principal vices, which were men tioned in a previous chapter (cf. chap, iv, comment #1), the vice of pride, or hauteur, is the last one mentioned. Said Abbot Cassian: "The eighth and last battle that we have to wage is the battle against the spirit of pride. Al though this disease (of the soul) is the last one of our battles against the principal vices and is numbered at the very end of the list, in point of origin and time, it is really the first, the most ferocious and intractable monster of all that we have mentioned. This is because it attacks even the perfect reli gious, those who have reached the very peak of holiness, inflicting upon them the most cruel wounds . . . There is no other vice that so corrupts all the virtues in men and so completely robs them of all righteousness and sanctity as this evil of pride." All sins have pride at their roots. "It is the the begin ning of all vices and sins. Unlike the other vices, which destroy only their opposites, this one destroys not only humility, but is the slayer of all the vir tues. Moreover, it tempts not only those who have made little progress in holi ness, but even those who already stand on its very heights." "It is the enemy of God himself . . .In a real sense, it rises up against God." Wherefore the Scriptures say: "God resisteth the proud" (James iv, 6). Abbot Cassian de voted the entire twelfth book of his "Institutes" to the vice of Pride.
We can understand, then, why the Holy Rule contrasts the virtue of humility with pride as the source of all sins and extols the former as the sum total of all the monastic virtues and of the monastic pursuit of perfection. St.
Caesarius of Arles (f 542), repeating the thoughts of St. Augustine, writes in a letter for monks: "Since the beginning of the world, two edifices have been built and two kingdoms established. Christ established the one (kingdom), the devil, the other; the Humble One established the first, the proud one the second . . . The sons of God and the sons of the devil can be distinguished only by their humility or by their pride. The man who is proud is doubtless a son of the devil. The man who is humble is most certainly a son of God . . .What the devil has torn down through pride, Christ has rebuilt through humility.
You must drink consistently of the antidote of humility if you wish to escape from the poison of pride. Listen to the Lord as he speaks: 'Learn of me, be cause I am meek and humble of heart' (Matt. xi. 29). He did not say: 'Learn to build a world, to raise the dead, or to perform other great deeds, but learn of me,' because 'I am meek and humble,/Of heart.' Let us before everything else cling to humility, not the kind that manifests itself merely to the eye, but that of the heart." True humility proves itself and preserves itself by obedience and by bearing the injustices that are inflicted upon us.
Excursus III.
Charity.—"There is no one who does not love" (St. Augustine, Sermons xxxiv, i). By way of introduction to this theme, let us say first of all, that there are different words in different languages for the affective emotion of love: some languages have more, others fewer. The German language today has only one in general use, the word Liebe, the medieval word Minne (e.g ,
Minnesingers Troubadours or bards of love) having gone completely out of use, and is now wholly obsolete. (In English we have really only two words in general use: love and affection; the word charity, outside the Bible, being now used mostly in the sense of alms. Theologians and spiritual writers still use it, of course, to signify the love of God or love for one's fellow man.) The Greeks, also, had at least two, eros and agape. The Latins had even three: amor, dilectio, and caritas. The Holy Rule uses the word amor eight times, the word caritas sixteen times, and the word dilectio only once. With regard to the verbs amare and diligere (verbal form of dilectio), it uses the first eight times and the second ten times. The German version of this book translates the nouns and the verbs indisciminately with the words, Liebe (love) and lieben (to love). A brief look into their use (in the Greek and Latin languages) may be of some assistance towards a deeper understanding of the Holy Rule.
Eros.—The Greeks at all times sang glowing hymns and paeans of praise to the sensuous and impish Eros, the irresistible and overmastering god of love. In their religious cults, he played an important role; in the philosophy of Plato, he was the essence of all that was best and greatest in life; but the my stic Plotinus completely sublimated and desensualized him (E. Stauffer). A.
Nigren, (Lutheran bishop of Lund, Sweden), in his book "Eros and Agape''
(English translation by Philip S. Watson, 1954), summarily characterized his function in Greek religious philosophy—and this aspect is the only one that interests us here—in the following manner: "Eros is (acquisitive) desire and longing. Eros is man's pull towards the empyrean. Eros is man's way to God.
Eros is man's effort; it assumes that salvation is his own work. Eros is egocentric love, a form of self-assertion, of the highest, noblest, and sublimest kind. Eros seeks to win its life, to become immortal and divine . . . Eros is primarily man's love: God is the object of Eros. Even when it is attributed to God, Eros is patterned on human love. Eros is determined by the quality, the beauty, and the worth of its object: it is not spontaneous, but motivated by another. Eros establishes value in its object—and loves it.
Agape.—While the word Eros was familiar to the ancient world and in frequent use there, the word Agape was rather sparsely and insecurely in evidence throughout pre-biblical Greece. But it was by no means a new coin age. Now, however, something rare and wonderful took place. In the Greek
New Testament the word eros is not used; in fact, it is utterly disregarded. In stead, the almost entirely neglected and once seldom used agape became the familiar term to express an unheard of new thing, a paradox, to bring out, as it were, God's love towards mankind as it was revealed in the Incarnation of his Divine Son and his death on the cross: "For God so loved the world (gar agapesen) as to give his only begotten son; that whosoever believeth in him, may not perish, but may have life everlasting" (John iii, 16). "God com mended his charity towards us (agapen eis hemas), because . . . Christ died for us" (Rom. v, 8-9; cf. John iv, 9ff). "God is Agape'' (1 John iv, 8 & 16). Agape
(charity) was God's revelation of love to mankind, and took most concrete form in the Incarnation and crucifixion of the Lord, seemingly a foolishness to the gentiles and a stumbling block to the Jews (1 Cor. i, 23). The agape
(love) of God for men is the final and basic reason for the chief command ment: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God . . . and thy neighbor as thyself"
(cf. Mark xii, 30 & 31). This love of God, which becomes present in the "heart by the Holy Spirit" (Rom. v, 5), necessarily enkindles in the soul a love for God. And the agape (love) of God for men in its turn must needs con tinue in them in the form of love for their fellow men. "In this we have known the agape (charity) of God, because he hath laid down his life for us; and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. He that hath the substance of this world, and shall see his brother in need and shall shut up his bowels from him, how doth the love (agape) of God abide in him" (1 John iii, 16f)? The agape is the soul of Christian piety. Without it all human activity is but idle endeavor.
That is why St. Paul rejected with scorn the arrogantly proud Greek gnosis, as well as the haughty, unlovely, and self-seeking Eros in his song of the agape, with the deathless words: "If I speak with the tongues of men and
of angels . . . and if 1 should have prophecy,- and should know all mystery and all knowledge (gnosis), and if I should have all faith . . . and have not charity
(agape), I am nothing. And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity (agape), it profiteth me nothing. Charity (agape) . . . boasteth not, is not puffed up, seeketh not her own . . . beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things" (cf. 1 Cor. xiii, 1-7). The faith inspired conscious ness that he has this agape makes a Christian strong and unconquerable in all the difficulties and afflictions of life. "Who then shall separate us from the love of Christ (for us)? Shall tribulation? Or distress? Or persecution? Or famine? Or nakedness? Or danger? Or the sword? . . . But in all things we overcome, because of him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life . . . shall be able to separate us from the love of God (for us), which is in Christ Jesus, our Lord" (cf. Rom. viii, 35-39).
In his book cited a page or two back, Anders Nygren describes the agape thus: . . . "Agape is God's way to man. Agape is grace; salvation is the work of divine love. Agape is selfless love; it seeks not its own; it is self-oblation.
Agape lives the life of God, dares, therefore, to lose its own. Agape is pre eminently the love of God; God is Agape. Even when agape is attributed to man, it is patterned after the image of divine love. Agape is sovereign in re lation to its object, and this applies both to the good and the wicked; it is spontaneous, overflowing, unmotivated love. Agape loves and—creates value in its object.
Eros and Agape as Grace.—The theological thinking of faith has no un toward difficulties, considering the greatness and goodness of God, in agreeing that the love of God for men is the purest of graces (cf. Rom. xi, 33-36). The intellectual difficulties in the problem begin only when we raise the question as to whether and in how far our love of God and of our fellow men is a mat ter of grace and at the same time a free and meritorious act. The question can also be formulated in this way: what relation do agape and eros bear to each other?
Christianity has in the course of the centuries developed a clear and practical answer. Agape and eros must be so intimately wedded to each other that it would be equally heretical to proclaim agape alone or eros alone, in a word, either one without the other. Thus as early as the travels of St. Paul, we see how invariably he lauds the agape in the first part of his letters, and in the second part of them calls upon us to apply it in practice to our moral conduct.
Again, in the course of the centuries, there have not been wanting the oretical solutions of the problem. Origen (f 254), especially in his battles against Gnosticism, which denied the freedom of the will, defended that free dom most vigorously. He found some valuable ideas in the speculations of the Greek philosophers concerning the eros, and these he later incorporated into his ideal of perfection. It was there that he found his plan of the step-
wise ascent of the soul to God. In this gradual climb of the soul to its Creator, the will finally plays the deciding role. "O man," he cried, "why art thou soulweary about exerting thyself, about laboring and through thy own exertions becoming the cause of thy salvation" (Horn, on Ezech. i, 3)? The love of man for God is indeed the impelling motive for one's whole moral conduct. Yet this love is in many respects related to the Greek eros. But it would be wholly er roneous to see in this conscious climb of the soul to God only the aspect of eros, only the piety of action. It is known that the Greek Church Fathers reproached Origen with his implied Pelagianism; indeed, St. Jerome accused him outright of being the father of this heresy. But Origen assigned an im portant place in this upward climb to the agape, to grace, and to the opera tion of the Holy Spirit. He tried honestly to bring about a functioning union between the agape and the eros. But he did not quite succeed. Finally, he assigned the deciding role in the beginning of a good work to the free will of man. And he can thus be regarded as the father of the old-monastic doctrine on grace, of which we have spoken more than once.
The Greek Fathers, also, and in particular the monks of the East, as we have said, adopted the pattern of the step-wise ascent of the soul to God from Origen. St. Gregory of Nyssa (f 394) presented this ascent of the soul under various figures: a Jacob's ladder to heaven, a mountain climb, a pillar, a flame, a love-chain. It may be that in these metaphors, or similes, man's achievement, the eros, stood out much too prominently. It was not as if the agape, that is grace, were in any way denied. These Fathers were much too staunch in their faith in the New Testament revelation. Nor can one escape the impression that they spoke rather often and gladly of the agape, although they did, consciously or unconsciously, paint it in the colors of eros. Origen had al ready tried to show that the words agape and eros were alike in meaning. He did, however, maintain—of course, erroneously so—in the foreword of his commentary on the "Song of Solomon," that one could with equal propriety say: "God is Agape," and "God is Eros." St. Basil places a treatise on the Agape at the beginning of his "Longer Rules." He thereby meant the love of men for God, but he describes it in colors that were once proper to Eros.
Dionysius, the so-called Areopagite, went to some pains (c. 500) to bring the word eros into more frequent use. But the Fathers on the whole clung to the biblical term. Abbot Joannes of Sinai (f c. 649) placed the agape at the top of the 30th degree of humility, the highest rung on his "Ladder to Paradise," though it clearly bore the features of Eros. St. Maximus the Confessor (f 662) later wrote his "Four Hundred Articles on the Agape." But even in these the features of Eros can be discerned.
The struggle in the Greek east to bring about a real synthesis of the agape and the eros seems to have been carried consistently over into the doctrine on the Person of Christ. The theologians of Antioch separate the divinity (Agape) of Christ and his humanity (Eros) too far apart from each other. In Nestorian-
ism this defective doctrine became outright heresy; the Man Jesus is made to owe himself to his union with the Logos. The Alexandrian theologians showed an unmistakable tendency to stress the divinity of the Logos (Agape) at the cost of his true humanity (Eros). In Eutychianism (the doctrine of the one na ture in Christ), this imperfect doctrine likewise degenerated into heresy.
In the Latin West we find a similar theological wrestling over the agape and the eros. Pelagius (f after 412) reserved the first and sole credit for salva tion to mere human endeavor: man, in a word, is capable of attaining salvation by his own efforts without the assistance of grace. His antagonist, St. Au gustine, proclaimed the primacy of the agape.
Neither the Greek theologians of the time nor the monks succeeded in ef fecting a perfect theoretical synthesis of the agape and the eros. However, this did not prevent them from giving the agape undisputed predominance in the daily practice of their Christian lives. Nevertheless, to the very last the full credit to be given to the divine Agape in man's pursuit of virtue still eluded them. The human angle of achievement featured all too strongly in their religious philosophy.
Amor, Dilectio, Caritas.—Latin translations of the New Testament in Greek had an undisguised aversion to the word amor, approximating so close ly as it does to the Greek eros. The Latin Christians showed a decided pre ference for the term dilectio (from the verb diligere), which may have been a word of Christian coinage. The early African Christians loved it more than others. Yet it was not long before there came into vogue an old familiar word
—caritas, which had its counterpart in the Greek agape. St. Ambrose en deavored to establish a distinction in meaning between amor and dilectio: amor was the love that animated body and soul, consequently, the perfect affec tionate love (or love of the affections), while dilectio concerned or possessed the soul only (Commentary on Luke x, 176). St. Augustine defended the use of the word amor as equally justifiable and of like signification as dilectio and caritas ("City of God" xiv, 7). This viewpoint of Augustine eventually pre vailed.
The love of men for God was also considered a matter of great importance among the Latins, but God's love for men was by no means neglected or over-looked. As we have seen, Pelagius credited the great boon of salvation solely to human nature, that is, to the free will of man. But the Latin Church expressed its concept of the agape most adequately in that wonderful Easter hymn, the Exultet: "O wonderful condescension of thy kindness in our regard!
O inestimable affection of charity; to redeem the slave thou didst deliver up the Son!" South-Gallican monachism, however, influenced as it was by the Orient, held out to the last for the imperfect teaching of the Greeks. It was reserved for St. Augustine. Doctor of the Agape and great teacher on grace, to lead the Christian West back to the New Testament revelation on the true aspect of the subject.
John Cassian.—The abbot of Marseilles, the importance of whose influence on the Holy Rule we have repeatedly stressed, followed the Orient in his doctrine on charity. He devoted the greater part of his eleventh and sixteenth conferences on the love (of men) for God, which stands there ever in the fore ground. He set up a "ladder of virtue" with ten rungs, up which the monk mounted and eventually arrived at perfect humility. "Once you in truth have humility, it will lead you directly to a higher degree of love, a love that knows no fear, by means of which you will then perform with ease and as if it were born with you (that is, naturally) everything which you formerly observed not without fear and anxiety; no longer, therefore, will the consideration of punishment or fear of the same be the compelling motive for your good conduct, but the love of goodness and your joy in virtue" (Institutes iv, 39).
Perfect love corresponds to "purity of heart" (cf. ibid., loc. cit., 43). From a pure heart also wells up pure prayer and contemplation.
From Cassian's style of phrasing, one might glean the impression that the love of God was all grace. However, he was too much under the magne tism of the East and too much in opposition to Augustine that he could relin quish the idea that the soul's ascent to God was to some extent a thing of man's doing. He, also, was not successful in achieving a perfect synthesis of the agape and the eros. Nor did the monks at Lerins succeed in doing so.
The Holy Rule.—St. Benedict took the idea for his "Ladder of Virtue" directly from Cassian. But one cannot resist the impression that he watered down somewhat the daring phrases of the Abbot of Marseilles. However, this did not deter the Patriarch of Montecassino from accepting, at least basically,
Cassian's dogmatic premises. It is noteworthy that Cassiodorus, contemporary of St. Benedict, twice recommended the works of Cassian to his monks and twice called their attention to his imperfect doctrine on grace, while St. Bene dict prescribed these works for daily reading without any restrictions what ever, at least not in his Rule. As with Cassian, so also with the Holy Rule, the monk's love of Christ is foremost. It is the main objective of its monastic asceticism. At the same time Christ's love for men, grace, is by no means hid den under a veil but clearly and impressively avowed.
Even if St. Benedict's teaching on grace, in consequence of its dogmatic dependence upon south-Gallican doctrines concerning the agape, was some what imperfect and in comparison with the advanced doctrine of Augustine and Rome somewhat of a back number, this defect was fully offset and balanced by his Rule in practice, since he concentrated all his attention upon that. According to his wish and intention, the agape was to rule and hold the hegemony in the cloister (cf. chap. Ixxii). The incarnate Agape, the love be come man, the real Abbot, Father, and Lord of the household. Teacher and Shepherd, stands ever before the monks as a living entity in the person of Jesus Christ. "He hath loved us" (cf. chap, vii, 4th degree of humility). Christ animates, enlivens, illumines, and warms the whole cloister. The abbot, Christ's
representative, must imitate him in conducting his abbatial office; else he is a tyrant (chap, xxvii). The perfect practice of the Rule's asceticism is a living commentary on St. Paul's "Song of Love." St. Augustine and St. Benedict can join hands here.
Saint Augustine.—The monastic patriarch of Hippo was the man who real ly reconciled the agape and the eros-motif, which had been introduced into the Christian ideal of perfection by Origen. An enthusiastic partisan of Plato himself, Augustine knew of the Greek ladder-pattern: "Up seven steps man mounts to wisdom" (Christl. Lehre ii, 7). In his "Confessions," there speaks
Augustine, the Platonist: "Late have I learned to love thee, O Beauty, late have I loved . . . Thou didst touch me, and I have been consumed for thy peace" (X, xxvii, 1—3). God's love and grace had touched him. God's love had granted the erring Augustine his love for God, the ascent of his soul, its start, its forward progress, its perfection. The eros, that is, the love of man for God, his honorable struggle for virtue, is a gift of the Agape and at the same time a free and meritorious act of man. "^11 my hope is naught save in thy great mercy. Grant what thou dost command and command what thou wilt,
. . O Love, thou art ever burning and never extinguished! O God, my Love, enkindle me! Thou dost command continence. Grant what thou dost com mand and command what thou wilt" (Ibid, xxix, 10-13)! The Christian lives ever under the law of love: "Dost thou speak? Speak out of love. Art thou silent? Be silent out of love. Dost thou reprove? Reprove out of love. Dost thou spare? Spare out of love. The roots of love are in thy inmost soul. Only good can burst into flower therefrom" (On 1 John, Treatise vii, 8).
No Church Father before or after Augustine was permitted to gaze so deep down into the mysterious and wonderful depths of the agape and to praise it so lavishly as the monastic patriarch of Hippo. It was indeed out of sincere solicitude that the south-Gallican monks for the time being rejected Au gustine's doctrine concerning the agape. The Church has officially declared his clearcut teaching as the universally valid truth.
The Synod of Orange.—St. Caesarius of Arles, previously a monk himself at Lerins but a convinced adherent of Augustine, seems to have been specially chosen by Providence to proclaim the Catholic doctrine on grace, and that largely in the words of the African Church Father. The contents of the more important canons of the Council of Orange (529) are given below:
Canon 3: Grace will be granted us if we ask for it; grace itself, however, will operate when we ask for it; Canon 4. God does not wait for our desire to be cleansed from sin. but he brings about this desire in us himself through the Holy Spirit;
Canon 5: As the increase of faith, so also the inclination towards faith and the beginnings of faith in us are products of grace and not of na ture. Were faith a thing of nature, all non-Christians would per force have to be Christians;