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Moral Theology — Topic 6. Asceticism in the Context of Moral Life.

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Moral Theology — Topic 6. Asceticism in the Context of Moral Life.

At first glance, at the level of concepts used to describe the movements of the soul and actions, everything is also quite obvious. Every sin, just like every virtue and even love itself, has its own characteristics and can be recognized and described. The difficulties begin when an abstract concept is applied to the actions of a specific person who acts, based on their own capabilities, upbringing, and understanding of the meaning of what is happening. It is no coincidence that Scripture and patristic literature say so much about the sinfulness of judgment, for it is precisely in judgment that a person evaluates another based on outward signs, without having true knowledge of that person, and thus preempts God’s judgment with their own. For example, the Apostle writes very clearly on this: “Therefore do not judge anything before the time, until the Lord comes, who will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and reveal the intentions of the heart, and then each one will receive praise from God” (1 Cor 4:5). In this context, it is important to recall that, according to St. Timothy of Alexandria, St. Anastasius of Sinai, and many other Fathers, the age of moral accountability was most directly linked to a person’s ability to comprehend the meaning of their actions. However, judging by the Apostle Paul’s sermon to the Gentiles, a person does not acquire the ability to understand their actions in youth. A person travels this path gradually, moving from infant food to solid food, characteristic of the mature, “whose senses are trained by practice to distinguish between good and evil” (Heb 5:14). By gradually perfecting the skill of discernment, rooted in the judicial (διάκρισις) function of conscience, and by employing both negative and positive ascetic practices, a person walks the path of attaining their own measure, growing “to the measure of the full stature of Christ” (Eph 4:13). It is no coincidence that St. Gregory of Nyssa writes: “Each of us, through progress in virtue, must bring ourselves to the measure of the full stature of Christ…”[1]. From a formal perspective, this path may seem entirely obvious. Every passion here is countered by a virtue, which is called to restore the balance disrupted by the Fall. However, the measure of the stature of Christ is not Aristotelian moderation—the middle ground between two extremes—but the full realization of God’s plan for humanity.

The concept of measure, which in everyday language denotes a standard of measurement, can in a theological sense mean the degree to which a person conforms to God’s plan for them. Each of us is born into our own conditions and circumstances, with our own physical, mental, and spiritual resources and abilities. In his time, the ancient philosopher Protagoras asserted that “man is the measure of all things” ([2]). Traditionally, Christians have disputed this expression, since man’s knowledge of his own measure has always been viewed with suspicion since the Fall. However, if one does not interpret this expression from a relativist perspective, man is indeed called to observe his own measure, and not that of anyone else. The only problem is whether, in comprehending it, he listens to the Creator or formulates it himself. Adam, who presumed to be a god, clearly exceeded his measure in this, even though it had been revealed to him by God.

[1]Gregory of Nyssa, On the Goal of Life according to God and on True Asceticism. II.4

[2]****Plato, Theaetetus 152a

Asceticism in Sacred Scripture and Church Tradition

The foundation of Old Testament religion was faithfulness to God, which was expressed in the observance of the law, focused primarily on the regulation of religious and social life. In addition to the regular fasts prescribed by the law and those observed in honor of commemorative dates, some people fasted on special occasions, before spiritual events (Exod 34:28), as a sign of mourning (3 Kings 19:8–12; Dan. 10:2–3) or repentance (Jonah 3:5, Joel 2:15–15). Nazirite vows can be considered a unique example of asceticism, which involved the fulfillment of three vows: abstaining from wine, from cutting one’s hair, and from touching a dead body (Num. 6). However, the law did not in any way imply developed ascetic practices. Moreover, the prophets often emphasized that the manifestations of asceticism mentioned in the law, without a change in moral life, turn out to be not only completely fruitless but also hateful to God: “Fasting and the Sabbath… My soul hates them; they are a burden to Me; it is a burden to Me… Your hands are full of blood. Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your deeds from before My eyes; cease to do evil; learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” (Isa 1:13–17).

In the New Testament, the external law with its ritual and social practices is understood as having been fulfilled by Jesus Christ (Matt. 5:17). In His conversation with the Samaritan woman, the Savior emphasizes that true worship of God is accomplished not so much through external practices as through the right spiritual disposition. It can be said that the Savior’s entire teaching is devoted to achieving this spiritual disposition through following Him.

The Lord repeatedly emphasizes the need to make an effort. For example, He says that “the Kingdom of Heaven is taken by force (βιάζεται), and those who strive seize (αρπάζουσιν) it” (Matt. 11:12), and He also emphasizes that “the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it” (Matt. 7:14). Christ Himself sets an example of fasting (Luke 4:2, cf. Deut. 9:18) and prayer (Luke 11:1) and points to their necessity in the lives of His disciples (Matt. 6:5–6, Matt. 9:15). At the same time, continuing the tradition of the Old Testament prophets, the Savior emphasizes the futility of outward efforts in and of themselves: “And when you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites… But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may not be seen by others but by your Father who is in secret” (Matt. 6:16–18) or “Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord! Lord!’ will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but only the one who does the will of My Father in heaven” (Matt. 7:21).

It is noteworthy that the verb ἀσκέω appears only once in the New Testament. In his apologetic speech before the Roman governor Felix, the Apostle Paul says: “Therefore I also strive (ασκώ) always to have a clear conscience before God and men” (Acts 24:16). Thus, the verb ασκέω, which in antiquity denoted efforts of a mundane nature and meant “to work, to skillfully craft, to straighten, and to smooth out,” in the apostle’s language signified efforts of a moral and spiritual nature. However, in the First Epistle to the Corinthians, there is a mention of athletic competitions, which the apostle reinterprets in a spiritual sense: “Everyone who competes in the games exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we, an imperishable one” (1 Cor 9:25). In this context, “those who compete” refers to those called αγωνιζομενος—participants in athletic competitions—and “restraint” refers to what was denoted by the verb ἐγκρατεύομαι—to have control over oneself. The latter corresponds perfectly with what might be called the central tenet of ascetic efforts. In the epistles, these efforts are described in more detail: “Therefore put to death your earthly members: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness” (Col. 3:5). Of those who are called Christ’s disciples, he says that they have “crucified the flesh with its passions and desires” (Gal 5:24). At the same time, it is clear to the apostle that “self-imposed worship, humility, and the mortification of the body, with some neglect of the nourishment of the flesh” has only “the appearance of wisdom” (Col 2:23). He writes directly to Timothy that “physical training is of some value, but godliness is of value in every way” (1 Tim 4:8). According to St. John Cassian, by “godliness” the apostle means love[1] .

Although ascetic practices themselves are scarcely described in the apostolic and New Testament texts, the actions and states to which the Savior and the apostles call are unattainable without ascetic effort. In this regard, the theory and practice of the ascetic life have been described in detail and from many angles in the patristic tradition. Without claiming to provide a comprehensive description of the Church’s teaching on asceticism, it is important to first express several fundamental considerations within the framework of the course on moral theology:

First, when speaking of asceticism, it is necessary to remember that the goal set by a person who resorts to ascetic practices is unattainable without that person’s participation in the saving work of the Lord Jesus Christ (John 15:5). Therefore, when speaking of the path to salvation within the context of earthly life, we always speak of synergy—that is, the cooperation of free human will and Divine grace. The Lord grants a person talents, calls them to spiritual growth, and helps them walk this path.

Second, although the holy fathers, reflecting on the stages of the ascetic path, spoke of virtue—as an active form of the feat—as merely a step on the path to contemplation, they did not thereby diminish virtue itself in the least. The view of St. Macarius of Egypt can be considered generally accepted; he wrote: “If we do not find within ourselves the abundant fruits of love, peace, joy, meekness, humility, simplicity, sincerity, faith, and long- suffering, then all our labors have been in vain and futile; for every such deed and all labors must be performed for the sake of the fruits. If, however, the fruits of love and peace are not found in us, then all our deeds are in vain and are performed in vain”[2]. Various authors describe contemplation as a face-to-face encounter with God, as a state of spiritual freedom, dispassion, and an incomprehensible peace that is impossible to describe; yet it is evident that the ascetic continues to live in the world, satisfy bodily needs, and, to one degree or another, interact with other people.

Finally, it is important to emphasize that although the forms and practices of asceticism for laypeople and monks may differ, at their very core they are one and the same, boiling down to the cultivation of the will in obedience to God through the fulfillment of the commandments. In turn, this means that a number of restrictions that exist in monastic ascetic practice are possible on the path to salvation, but do not make this path itself the only one leading to salvation. Explaining the meaning of the distinctive features of the monastic life, St. Maximus the Confessor writes: “Some things we do for God are done by commandment; other things not by commandment, but by voluntary offering. By commandment, when we love God and our neighbor, love our enemies, do not commit adultery, do not kill, and so on… Not by commandment—when we preserve virginity and lead a celibate life, renounce all property, live as hermits, and so on”[3].

Thus, Christian asceticism can be defined as any spiritual or physical practice through which a person seeks to develop the habit of living according to God’s will. In practical terms, this skill consists in avoiding states and actions that contradict our natural constitution and striving to live virtuously, in accordance with our own nature.

[1] John Cassian, Conversations 1.10. Cl. 0512, 1.10.16.30.

[2] On Guarding the Heart, Word 1, Chapter 9.

[3] Maximus the Confessor, St. Centuries on Love. 4.66

The activity of moral consciousness, primarily represented in a person by conscience, is expressed in the comprehension of values and norms, the experience of moral feelings, and the performance of moral actions. It is known from the practice of moral life that good deeds come to a person through effort, while evil ones feel natural. In order to truly make good one’s own and renounce evil, a person must, through the careful repetition of right actions and the resolute rejection of wrong ones, develop the skill of making the right decisions. The spiritual and physical practices that people use on the path to forming these skills are collectively called asceticism, from ἀσκέω—to exercise. Sometimes people think that the need for asceticism is linked to a distorted state of the human will, for which, after the Fall, any action “by nature” required effort. At the same time, the very skill of doing good must have developed even before the Fall. Obviously, in such a case, the nature of the exercise itself would not have been associated with struggle, but would have been an expression of creative forces, through which a person learned to find their balance in obedience and free self-expression.

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Christian Teaching on the Powers of the Soul and Modern Scientific Data

From Holy Scripture we know that man is created as a rational and hierarchical being: his material body is animated by a rational soul. However, neither the Old nor even the New Testament contains any particularly developed teaching on the composition of the human soul. Given this absence, the Holy Fathers effectively “incorporated into the Church” the doctrine of the powers of the soul formulated by Socrates in Plato’s dialogue «The Republic». He speaks of three principles: the rational (νοῦς), the affective (θυμός), and the desiring (ἐπιθυμία). It is said of the first that with its help “a person is capable of reasoning”; of the second, that because of it “a person falls in love, experiences hunger and thirst, and is overcome by desires”; and because of the third, “a person becomes angry”[1]. Beginning with Clement of Alexandria, this view of Socrates has been accepted in the tradition as self-evident[2]. Rethinking the conventional view, and perhaps even arguing against it, St. Macarius the Great speaks of the presence in the rational soul of four ruling powers: “will, conscience, intellect, and the power of love, in which ‘God dwells’”[3]. Comparing the views of Plato and St. Macarius the Great, one can see that both authors speak of the presence of intellect in man. The desiring principle can be correlated with the will, and the affective or “passionate” principle with the “power of love.” As the fourth principle, St. Macarius speaks of conscience, whereas Plato does not single out a specific moral principle, although his scheme is in fact not devoid of moral content. Thus, speaking of the rational principle, he characterizes it as “discerning what is better and what is worse.”[4]. Comparing the teachings of St. Macarius with Plato’s views, it is hard not to notice that the intellect and conscience remain unchanged in his system, while the desiring power is called the will, and the affective power—the power of love. This difference can likely be explained by the fact that the saint sees man as God intended him to be. This is precisely why he calls the power associated with “desires”—which, in the fallen world, merely follows and fulfills those desires—the “will,” that is, that which normally serves as the source of desires and is governed by the mind. In turn, the power associated with the passions (anger) is linked by St. Macarius to love, because righteous anger arises from zeal, which is founded on love. Zeal that does not justify sin, but saves from it.

Man is created in the image of God, and communion with God—to which he is called—comes naturally to him. At the same time, God’s love and human existence itself are gifts, and man can accept and embrace this gift only of his own free will. Man is invited by God to share in the joy of being with Him, and this joy is in no way imposed upon him (Matt. 22:1–14). At the same time, agreement or disagreement with God is manifested through man’s fulfillment of God’s will. His entire personality was to be established within the proper hierarchy, in the submission of the spirit to the soul and body, in the unification of all his powers on the path to obedience and communion with the Creator. Obedience itself and the fulfillment of the commandments are natural to man, since he was created good by nature. It is no coincidence that already in the Old Testament the psalmist says that “the precepts of the Lord are upright, rejoicing the heart” (Ps 18:9), and in the New Testament the Savior calls His yoke good and His burden light (Mt 11:30).

Although the importance of the commandment not to eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is usually emphasized, in reality all of them were important in one way or another, because each one implied the possibility of obedience or disobedience. In this way, a person could demonstrate his attitude toward the Creator, toward another person, toward himself, and toward the created world. Within the framework of these relationships, a covenant was formed, on the basis of which a person’s actions could be called right or wrong, good or evil. It can be said that conscience and all the faculties and feelings it generates were intended to control, and when necessary, correct the errors of the other powers of the soul[5], so that the habit of obedience to God’s will might be formed in the human heart.

It is evident that today, neuroscience and other human sciences use a completely different language to describe the human being. These descriptions do not contradict one another, but exist on different planes. Christianity speaks of goals and meanings, while neuroscience speaks of physiological mechanisms. When describing the inner processes of the human psyche, the authors of antiquity could not take into account the physiological basis that scientists speak of today. The primary goal of the spiritual life—the mastery of the soul’s powers and the ability to subordinate the lower manifestations of the psyche to the higher ones in the pursuit of fulfilling God’s will—can be described in the language of science; however, science is incapable of assessing whether these are correct or erroneous.

[1] Plato. Works in Four Volumes / Ed. A. F. Losev, trans. V. F. Asmus. Sergiev Posad, 2007. Vol. 3, Part 1, pp. 252–253.

[2] Clement of Alexandria , The Teacher. Moscow, 1996, p. 213.

[3] Macarius the Great, St. Works. Moscow, 2002, p. 254.

[4] Plato. Works in Four Volumes / Ed. A. F. Losev, trans. V. F. Asmus. Sergiev Posad, 2007. Vol. 3. Part 1. p. 255.

[5] See Jerome of Stridon, Blessed. Fourteen Books of Commentaries on the Prophet Ezekiel. Book 1. // Works, 17 vols. Vol. 10. Kyiv, 1886. p. 10.

The establishment of the covenant with the Jews marked the beginning of humanity’s return to an understanding of its proper measure before God. This return began with humanity’s realization of the importance of observing the proper measure. In this context, the direct commandment “Do not act unjustly in judgment, in measure****(midda) , in weight, or in volume” (Lev. 19:35) plays an important role. Explaining the importance of such rules, St. Cyril of Alexandria writes: “The Lawgiver… sought to equate the forms of justice with measures, weights, and standards… for the upright mind that loves justice in a certain way, weighs and measures, the nature of things… it, as it were, measures out to each of the objects it considers that which is most fitting for it…” According to the saint, through these commandments “the knowledge of justice is revealed to us”[1]. By getting used to everyday honesty, people learned to live in communion with others and to respect common concepts. This created a space for further moral life, a space of responsibility and trust. As a created being, man could not comprehend God’s measure, for “His measure (מַד) is longer than the earth and wider than the sea” (Job 11:9). However, turning to the Creator, the biblical man felt the need to know his own measure. For example, marveling at the grandeur of the universe he saw and his own smallness (Ps 8:5), he asked: “Tell me, O Lord, my end and the number (מִדָה midda) of my days, what it is, that I may know how long my life will be” (Ps 38:5).

When considering the commandments in the context of the question of human measure, they can be divided into two categories:

  1. commandments that teach a person to observe boundaries and do not require discretion in their fulfillment. For example, Adam was simply forbidden to eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil under any circumstances. This commandment can only be either obeyed or broken.

  2. commandments that teach a person to assess a situation independently and seek an appropriate measure for its fulfillment. For example, Adam was permitted to eat the fruit of the other trees, but the measure of this eating was not specified. Adam had to determine it for himself.

Of course, this division is conditional, especially for the New Testament, since in the Sermon on the Mount the Savior shifts the possibility of violating unambiguous commandments from the realm of external action to the realm of internal attitude (Matt. 5:21–22) or desire (Matt. 5:28). Furthermore, it is evident that ascetic effort is necessary in the fulfillment of all commandments. At the same time, such a division is methodologically useful because it allows us to see that one part of the law safeguards life itself and, beyond its boundaries, death (Deut. 30:19), while the other part structures the space of life, within which various ways of living are possible.

Formally, the law was intended to teach people to fulfill God’s will. It was meant to penetrate the very depths of the people’s lives; it had to be written on the tablets of their hearts (Prov. 7:3). At the same time, the most important informal role of the law was precisely to reveal its impossibility of fulfillment and the unattainability for man of the full measure of obedience to God. It is no coincidence that, revealing the image of the heavenly temple in a vision, God says to the prophet Ezekiel: “Son of man, speak to the house of Israel about this temple, so that they may be ashamed of their iniquities and measure it” (Ezek 43:10). At the same time, the measure of the heavenly temple far exceeds the measure of the earthly temple. The measure of what God expects from it can be attained by a person only in cooperation with God. It can be received as His gift.

These two functions of the law—formal and informal—had two consequences:

First, a person realized his responsibility before God, who judged him according to the principle of “measure for measure” ([2]). This idea is particularly evident in the context of sins: “your iniquities… and the iniquities of your fathers together, who burned incense on the mountains and blasphemed Me on the hills; and I will measure (מדד madad) into their bosom their former deeds.” (Isa 65:7 cf. Jer 13:25).

Second, a person who realized his inability to attain true righteousness also realized the necessity of God’s help. In the aforementioned vision of Jeremiah, the water flowing from the temple cannot be measured by the prophet, just as the measure of God’s grace cannot be measured. Similarly, God says to the prophet Jeremiah: “If the heavens above can be measured and the foundations of the earth below can be explored, then I will reject the whole house of Israel for all they have done, says the Lord” (Jer. 31:37).

It was left to man to observe the measure received from God as much as possible, with the understanding that in his relationship with Him there is a certain limit beyond which it is impossible to rise. In the context of the search for one’s own measure, the idea of humility emerges, which is necessary on this path. This is formulated particularly vividly in later Jewish literature. Thus, Jesus, son of Sirach, says: “As great as you are, so humble yourself, and you will find favor with the Lord. Many are exalted and glorious, but secrets are revealed to the humble, for the Lord’s power is great, and He is glorified by the humble. Do not seek what is too difficult for you, and do not test what is beyond your strength” (Sir 3:19–20).

[1] Cyril of Alexandria, On Worship and Service in Spirit and Truth, 2.7

[2] See Mishnah Sotah 1:7

  • Christian Teaching on the Powers of the Soul and Modern Scientific Data
  • Asceticism in Sacred Scripture and Church Tradition
  • The Moral Condition of Man After the Fall
  • The Concept of Passion in Scripture and Tradition
  • The Path from Passions to Virtues
  • Asceticism as the Path to Finding One’s Measure
  • Concepts of Human Measure in the Holy Scriptures of the Old Testament
  • The Measure of Man in the Context of the New Testament
  • Moderation in asceticism and ethics

Realizing that they must struggle against their passions and strive for virtue, believers often seek detailed guidance on how to organize their private lives. However, along this path they encounter a multitude of traditions, most of which, while formally recognized, vary across different local churches and even dioceses. Furthermore, it is clearly necessary to distinguish between the forms of Christian life adopted by monks and those by laypeople. A failure to understand the normative nature of these differences and an attempt to live by someone else’s experience and rules often leads people to spiritual collapse, despondency, and disappointment in church life.

Despite the diversity of paths, all who consider themselves Christians are called, first, to profess the faith common to the Orthodox Church and, second, to observe the commandments given by God in Holy Scripture. On these paths, both monks and laypeople are called to live in equal fidelity to the Lord. However, despite the commonality of faith and morality, there remains room in our lives for ascetic feats, the extent of which differs not only quantitatively but also in substance. The point is not merely that people may eat, sleep, or pray more or less, but that the very nature of their ascetic feat may differ significantly while still being accepted by God as equally salvific.

There are quite a few examples in patristic literature where the so-called quantitative indicators of such feats differ. For example, St. Barsanuphius the Great speaks of a general rule regarding the measure of abstinence: “Concerning the measure of abstinence in food and drink, the Fathers say that one should consume both somewhat less than is proper, that is, not to fill the stomach completely. And everyone must determine for himself the measure both in cooked food and in wine. Moreover, the measure of moderation is not limited only to food and drink, but extends to conversation, sleep, clothing, and all the senses; in all these there must be a measure of moderation.” Similarly, St. John Cassian of Rome writes: “The general rule of moderation consists in each person, in accordance with their strength, physical condition, and age, eating as much food as is necessary to sustain the body, and not as much as the desire for satiety demands”[1].

The permissible qualitative differences in forms of asceticism are beautifully illustrated by the response of St. Anastasius of Sinai to the question of how laypeople can fulfill the Apostle Paul’s commandment regarding unceasing prayer (1 Thess 5:17). According to the saint, “The Apostle is speaking here not at all of prayer uttered by the lips, just as Christ says: ‘Not everyone who says to Me, “Lord, Lord,” will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but the one who does the will of Him who sent Me’ (Matt. 7:21; John 6:40). And therefore, whoever constantly does good—whether by performing acts of charity or by fulfilling other ministries for God—is praying unceasingly. For one can pray on one’s bed, on the road, at the table, in the marketplace, and in any place”[2]. The renowned 20th-century theologian Pavel Evdokimov wrote: “The common contrast between belonging to the world and withdrawing from the world is spatial; the essence of the problem lies in the vertical dimension. ‘When you pray, go into your inner room; and having shut the door, pray’ (Matt. 6:6). It is not about a place, but about a closed door. … One must be able to make room for silence and concentration; without these moments of inner richness, the spiritual life risks dissolving into fruitless busyness”[3].

For believers living their lives in the world, descriptions of rigorous ascetic practices often lead them to regard their own efforts as utterly worthless and to view their family life or secular work as obstacles to salvation. In reality, however, even a simple look at the lives of the saints shows that holiness can be attained through various paths. It is no coincidence that the Apostle Paul said that for him, the feat he strove for throughout his life was the desire to keep a clear conscience. Following him, the ascetic fathers repeatedly urge us to guard our conscience. For example, the Ancient Paterikon states that in order to be on par with such a great ascetic as Abba Anthony, a monk must “guard his conscience”[4]. Similarly, to one who has become completely exhausted, so that he can neither endure sorrows, nor work, nor give alms, it is said: “At the very least, keep your conscience clear toward your neighbor, turn away from all evil—and you will be saved…”[5]. According to Abba Pamva, keeping one’s conscience crowns all monastic virtues. Enumerating monastic feats, he asserts that all of them are insufficient, “but if, at the same time, you keep your conscience before your neighbor, then you will be saved”[6]. Similar reflections can be found in the writings of the venerable Abba Dorotheus, Barsanuphius, John, and many others. Those whom we today commonly call laypeople are also called to distinguish themselves by a similar attention to living according to conscience. Reflecting on this, St. Theophan the Recluse wrote: “Family and civic life are not worldly in and of themselves, but become so when passions and their gratification intrude into the order of such a life”[7]. When reflecting on forms of asceticism, it is important to remember that neither the Gospel nor the Apostolic Epistles make any distinction between monks and laypeople. Everything the Savior says, everything the apostles call for, is addressed to all believers—married and single, rich and poor, noble and humble. On this path, the proper formation of the conscience and its maturity play an important role, because it is precisely the conscience—as the ability to distinguish between good and evil—that allows one, having grasped the general rule, to apply it in specific circumstances. However, it is even more important to understand that, both in the lives of monks and in the lives of laypeople, the necessary measure is not achieved by a person’s own effort; the Lord fills this measure with His grace.

[1] John Cassian of Rome , the Venerable. Chapter 22. What should be the general measure of abstinence and food intake.

[2] Anastasius of Sinai , The Holy Father. Questions and Answers / Translated from the Greek, with an introductory article and commentary by A. I. Sidorov. — Moscow: Sibirskaya Blagozvonnitsa, 2015. p. 106. (Question 24).

[3] Evdokimov, P., Stages of Spiritual Life. P.

[4] Apophthegmata patrum: collectio systematica XXI, 60 // SC. 498. P. 212.

[5] Apophthegmata patrum: collectio systematica X, 40 // SC. 474. P. 40.

[6] Ibid. X, 94 // SC. 474. P. 72.

[7] Theophan the Recluse st., Letters. Letter 385.

Traditionally, the term πάθος has been used in patristic theology to denote passion; etymologically, it derives from the verb πάσχω—to suffer, to be the object of an influence. Originally, in Greek, it was understood as something that had happened, implying an experience of suffering. In pre-Christian philosophy, there were two approaches to πάθος. For the Stoics, this term meant an excessive impulse, as a result of which the correct behavior was the pursuit of apathy or dispassion. In turn, for Plato[1] and to an even greater extent for Aristotle[2], πάθος turns out to be a natural and blameless movement of the irrational part of the soul in its desiring (ἐ̓̓πιθυμία) or angry (θύμος) form. This movement or vital energy becomes reproachful and unnatural when it exceeds the rational power of the soul and goes out of its control. Accordingly, proceeding from this paradigm, the goal of man should be not so much ἀπάθεια as balance or harmony between the powers of the soul. In the New Testament, the word πάθος is used only three times and signifies a sinful desire that is difficult to control, most often associated with lust (Col 3:5, 1 Thess 4:5). The apostle explains the cause of the emergence of passion as follows. The pagans, who, though capable of knowing God, “became futile in their thinking,” which led to a change in their hearts (Rom 1:21) and, in turn, to the fact that they exchanged the “glory” of the image of God for the image of “corruptible man,” who, instead of becoming like God, became like animals. Respecting their freedom and not wishing to violate it, God, in the words of the apostle, “gave them over to shameful passions” (Romans 1:26).

In turn, the holy fathers, when speaking of passions, often used definitions of the term πάθος that had been given as early as by Aristotle and Galen[3]. At the same time, as people of biblical culture, they believed that man was created in the image of God and that this image was marred by the Fall. Thus, they perceived the passions as unnatural movements of the soul, which were not intended by God and were introduced into human life from the outside. At the same time, according to Fr. Callistus (Wear), the Fathers viewed the ultimate goal of ascetic work on the passions in different ways[4].

First, he discusses those authors who, in their understanding of the passions, followed the Stoics. He includes Clement of Alexandria (who quotes Zeno verbatim), to some extent Evagrius of Pontus, and St. Macarius of Egypt. For these ascetics, there is nothing positive in the passions, nor can there ever be, even in the long run.

Second, he speaks of those who also view the passions negatively and consider them to be introduced into our nature, yet at the same time allow for their positive perception in the long run. Such are, for example, St. Gregory of Nyssa and St. John Climacus, who believe that the “impulse underlying every passion is not evil in itself” and becomes so by virtue of our free decision.

Finally, he points to authors who tend to view passions as distorted aspects of man’s original nature. They prove to be entirely good if used in accordance with nature and become evil if used against nature. Among the authors who hold a similar view are St. Abba Isaiah, Nemesias of Emesa, St. John of Damascus, St. Maximus the Confessor, St. Anastasius of Sinai, and St. Gregory Palamas, who saw the goal of the Christian struggle not in the mortification of the passions, but in their transformation.

In light of this latter approach, a person is called not so much to fight against oneself, but for oneself. It is no coincidence that St. Diadochus of Photiki wrote: “Therefore, one must always, through careful remembrance of God, neglect the habit of evil: for the nature of good is more powerful than the habit of evil, since the former exists, while the latter does not exist, except when it is committed”[5]. Passions, as phenomina, are unnatural, but they turn out to be quite natural when they are healed, that is, when they are brought to their proper state through asceticism, and in through them God’s will for man is fulfilled. A passion is not merely perceived as a disease or lawlessness; in it one can see a virtue that is undeveloped, distorted, and ruined at its very foundation.

[1] See Phaedrus, the image of two horses…

[2] See Nicomachean Ethics…

[3] Malkov, P.Y. The Teaching of the Holy Fathers of the Eastern Church on the Passions (in its Interrelation with the Teaching on Human Nature and Its Vocation to Deification) <https://azbyka.ru/otechnik/Petr_Malkov/uchenie- svjatyh-ottsov-vostochnoj-tserkvi-o-strastjah-v-ego-vzaimosvjazi-s-ucheniem-o- chelovecheskoj-prirode-i-prizvanii-ee-k-obozheniyu/#source>

[4] Callistus (Wear), Metropolitan https://azbyka.ru/otechnik/Kallist_Uer/duhovnaja-borba-v-sovremennom-mire/

[5] Diadochus of Photiki, St. Works, Vol. 1. Kyiv, 1903, pp. 24–25.

Reflecting on the difference between the Old Testament and New Testament approaches, St. Cyril of Alexandria writes: “Understand, then, that what is set forth in the law is measured and limited by justice, but what is revealed through Christ is far greater than this and extends much further: for we are called to the glory of life in Christ”[1]. Here the same logic arises as in the epistles of the Apostle Paul, who says that God saves people not by works, so that no one may boast (Eph 2:9), but by grace (Eph 2:5), for He loved us while we were still sinners (Rom 5:8).

The most vivid examples of how the New Testament raises and resolves the question of measure are found in three parables: the Parable of the Talents, the Parable of the Minas, and the Parable of the Workers of the Eleventh Hour. From the first, we learn that God, as the Lord of the world, gives people different amounts of gifts (talents), but praises equally those who have multiplied them proportionally. From the second, we see that personal effort is important and that people with the same amounts of gifts (minas) can achieve different results through varying degrees of effort. Finally, from the third, we know that while the measure of labor may vary, the final measure of reward lies in God’s hands. At the same time, in the last of the parables mentioned, there are workers dissatisfied with their pay. They question the correlation between the measure of labor and the measure of pay. This means that, in reflecting on their relationship with God, people are able to articulate their own understanding of measure. It is precisely in this context that we must understand the words of the Sermon on the Mount: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged. For with the judgment you use, you will be judged; and with the measure (μέτρον) you use, it will be measured to you” (Matt. 7:2). Formally, Christ reproduces the already mentioned and well-known biblical law of “measure for measure.” However, unlike the rabbis, He precedes this law with a call not to judge, that is, not to measure others by one’s own measure. This prohibition stems from the fact that the Pharisees relied on external rules in their assessments, whereas for the Savior, the measure is the degree to which a person conforms to God’s will, taking into account all the circumstances in which he acts. Only God knows everything that determined a person’s action, and therefore only He can judge (1 Cor. 4:5). However, the prohibition against judging does not mean a prohibition against calling sin a sin. Commenting on Christ’s words, Euthymius Zigaben writes: “So what then? If a brother commits fornication or sins in some other similar way, should I not correct him, but remain silent? Correct him like a doctor, as a brother, and do not condemn him with hostility, as one you hate. For He did not say, ‘Do not restrain the sinner,’ but ‘Do not judge’”[2].

The Apostle Paul fully embodies this approach. The first thing that becomes evident when considering his preaching is that he likewise distinguishes between actions that bar a person from entering the Kingdom of Heaven and those that depend on the measure of God’s gift and the circumstances in which a person acts. The former, though they may not be obvious to former pagans, are listed by the apostle as completely unacceptable for Christians (1 Cor 6:9,10; Gal 5:19–21, Eph 5:5). The latter, due to the absence of strict criteria, gave rise to disputes in which the apostle took an active part, calling for tolerance (Rom 14:1–4). He does not discuss sins that excommunicate a person from the Church—with the exception of sexual immorality—but simply lists them. In the well-known situation involving the incestuous man in Corinth, he expresses surprise that such things need to be explained. At the same time, significant portions of the epistles are devoted to matters of church life.

For the Apostle, the measure of a person is not merely their self- perception—whether they see themselves as virtuous or depraved—nor is it formal compliance with the law. There is no “universal” measure, just as there is no “universal” person with certain abstract qualities who must conform to some general mold. Disciples may differ in gender, age, social and ecclesiastical status; therefore, the forms of their Christian life, while sharing a common moral foundation, may vary, both in terms of ministries (1 Cor 12:28; Eph 4:11) and matters of private life (Rom 14:6–8; 1 Cor 7). The actions of people living in different circumstances and possessing different gifts cannot be completely identical. However, everyone is called to strive to fulfill God’s plan for themselves in their individual situation and to be united with Christ (2 Cor 5:17, Col 3:11).

Realizing the differences among the disciples, the apostle reminds them: “Do not think of yourselves more highly than you ought to think, but think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. For just as we have many members in one body, but not all members have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members of one another”****(Rom 12:3–6). The gifts of life in Christ are given to all, but the measure of “Christification” of life is different for each person, in accordance with their nature, strengths, and abilities. This measure may be related to a person’s level of spiritual development and the knowledge upon which they rely (1 Cor 8:8–13, Rom 14:22). In such a situation, it is important for the apostle not to judge others, because what seems insignificant to some may prove significant to others. Unable to assess all circumstances and relying on a general standard, a person usually draws erroneous conclusions, against which the apostle warns. Thus, he writes: “If anyone is confident that he belongs to Christ, let him judge for himself that just as he belongs to Christ, so do we” (2 Cor. 10:7). At one point, he even rejects the validity of others’ judgments of his conduct: “It matters very little to me what you think of me or what others think; I do not even judge myself” (1 Cor. 4:3, cf. 1 Cor. 10:29). The problem with such assessments is that people who do not realize the difference in measure, “measuring themselves by themselves and comparing themselves with themselves,” turn out to be “foolish” (2 Cor. 10:12). The Apostle does not wish to compare himself with others, though he is quite capable of doing so (2 Cor 11:23), and urges us not to condemn those who “stand or fall before their Lord,” for “God is able to make them stand” (Rom 14:4). At the same time, of course, he does not leave the community without moral guidance and instructs Timothy, as bishop in Ephesus: “Rebuke those who sin in the presence of all, so that the rest may also fear” (1 Tim 5:20) and later, “rebuke, forbid, and exhort with all patience and teaching” (2 Tim 4:2). At his ordination, Timothy received from God the gift of presiding over or leading the community, and he was called to serve the Church to the best of his ability, understanding that he is a fellow worker with God (1 Cor 3:9).

In this awareness of his calling, as well as in the awareness of his weakness in fulfilling it, the Old and New Testaments are one. However, they took different paths: the Jews placed their hope in the Law and sought to fulfill it in its entirety, while Christians, recognizing themselves as God’s co- workers, are called to place all their hope in Him.

[2] Euthymius Zigabenus,****Commentary on the Four Gospels

The Moral Condition of Man After the Fall

Did Adam perform actions before the Fall? Of course! Chronologically, the first events mentioned in Scripture are the naming of the animals and the meeting of the man and the woman. Both of these actions were performed in accordance with God’s will. However, given that after the Fall, the passionate and unnatural state—due to its universality—is perceived by people as natural, it seems appropriate in this exposition to first examine the doctrine of the passions and only then move on to the virtues.

First and foremost, it is important to understand that at the moment of the Fall, nothing foreign appeared within man. The powers that had already been instilled by the Creator were distorted within him. When Eve obeyed the serpent, the Fall manifested itself

· in the distortion of bodily desires, since she perceived the fruit as “good to eat”;

· in a distorted perception of the world, since she saw the fruit as “pleasing to the eye”;

· in a distorted perception of herself, since she perceived the fruit that brought death as giving knowledge (Gen. 3:6).

Already in the New Testament, the Apostle John the Theologian gives a literally parallel description of what in the world does not correspond to the will of the Creator. He speaks of “the lust of the flesh (cf. good to eat), the lust of the eyes (cf. pleasing to the eye), and the pride of life (cf. gives knowledge) (1 John 2:16). In this context, asceticism appears as an effort directed against the person, although in reality, true ascetic effort is always made in the struggle for the person.**** For example, in the context of patristic theology, one can speak of pathologies of cognition, desire and pleasure, aggression, freedom, memory, imagination, and the senses[1]. However, all these phenomena have a good side, created by God, which requires purification and transformation.

It is not uncommon to encounter arguments about the complete moral incapacity of man after the Fall, yet the biblical material itself does not support this. God speaks to Cain about sin: “It is lying in wait for you; but you must rule over it” (Gen 4:7), and this indicates that the very possibility of rejecting temptation still remained with man. Thus, St. Ephrem the Syrian calls Cain “the ruler of sin”[2], and Blessed Jerome of Stridon renders God’s words to Cain as follows: “But since you have free will, I call upon you to rule over sin, and not sin over you”[3].

As is well known, Cain did not rule over sin, but killed Abel, thereby setting in motion all the wars and strife that have filled and continue to fill human life. According to modern anthropology, the typical reaction of ancient people upon encountering their own kind was the urge to kill[4]. Thus, the man who received the blessing to be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth filled it with strife and enmity. This happened not because he could no longer act otherwise, but because he freely renounced dominion over sin and chose the path of submission to it. However, to a certain extent, the fulfillment of God’s will, remained possible for man even after the Fall, as evidenced by the examples of the righteous Enoch and Noah, of whom it is said that they “walked with God” (Gen. 5:24, 6:9).

[1] See J.C. Larche, The Healing of Spiritual Illnesses.

[2] Ephrem the Syrian, St. Commentary on the Book of Genesis 3.4. CSCO 152:48-49; Works 6:253.

[3] Jerome of Stridon, Blessed, Jewish Questions on the Book of Genesis. — Moscow: Department of Biblical Studies, Moscow Theological Academy; “Otchiy Dom” Publishing House, 2009. — p. 53.

[4] See Nazaretian , A.P. Notes on Human History, on the “Nightingales of the Paleolithic” and on the “Conscience of Pithecanthropus” // Historical Psychology and Sociology of History., — 2001, — No. 1, — pp. 119–139

In the modern tradition, virtues are presented to us as the opposite of passions. In this sense, for fallen humanity, the path to virtue always begins with the struggle against passions, just as for the sick, the path to health begins with the treatment of illness. However, in reality, this path of struggle also involves a positive, creative experience, since it is connected not only with avoiding sinful impulses but also with perfecting oneself in virtue. In ascetic literature, there are descriptions of certain virtues that heal the corresponding passion. For example, St. Abba Dorotheus writes: “Every passion has a virtue opposite to it: pride—humility, greed—charity, fornication—chastity, cowardice—patience, anger—meekness, hatred—love…”[1]. The main value of these “opposite virtues” lies not only in themselves, but also in the fact that they restore health to the powers of the soul that have been distorted by sin.

It is clear that in patristic literature, the classical scheme of the eight deadly passions, dating back to Evagrius of Pontus, is not the only possible one. However, in the context of academic study, it is methodologically convenient to use it as a basis for demonstrating the thesis formulated above.

__

The God-given capacity/power of the soulPassionHealing virtue
Carnal
Ability to eatGluttony ( γαστριμαργία )Abstinence
The ability to engage in marital relations and procreateFornication ( πορνεία )Chastity
Spiritual
The ability to possess, to ownGreed ( φιλαργυρία )_Generosity /Charity _
Ability to resist evilSinful anger ( ὀργή)__Meekness and kindness
The ability to recognize one’s imperfection and incompleteness without GodMortal sorrow ( λύπη )Sorrow for God
The ability to trust God, to entrust one’s life to HimDespondency ( ἀκηδία )Prayer, work
The desire to glorify God in one’s lifeVanity ( κενοδοξία )Self-reproach
The ability to recognize one’s own likeness to God,Pride ( ὑπερηφανία )Humility and obedience to God

Our entire existence and all the powers of our soul—and thus all our virtues—find their source in God. The transformation of the passions should not turn into a war against oneself, but should be a return of all one’s powers to the Creator. Reflecting on such a struggle, St. Maximus the Confessor wrote, “In one whose mind is always with God, desire grows into a divine passion, and all anger is entirely transformed into divine love.” In reality, turning to God as the source of our life, of all our movements and powers (Acts 17:28), necessarily leads any striving Christian, whatever his status, to the understanding that the true goal of the entire ascetic path lies in love. The most striking example of the comparison between love and bodily feats can already be found in the Apostle Paul, who wrote to the Corinthians: “If I give away all my possessions and surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, I gain nothing” (1 Cor 13:3). Addressing the Colossians and listing the virtues of mercy, humility, gentleness, and patience necessary for them, he concludes his exhortation thus: “Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony” (Col 3:14).

If we turn to the writings of the Church Fathers, we can find many similar statements there. First and foremost, we might recall the well-known ascetic work by St. John of Sinai, «The Ladder of Divine Ascent». Presenting the ascetic’s path as a path of spiritual ascent, the author identifies love as the highest step. Similarly, St. Maximus the Confessor says: “The end of all goods is love, for it guides, leads, and draws all who walk in it toward the supreme good—God, the Source of every good…”[2]. St. Nicholas Kavassilas concludes his work “On Life in Christ” with these remarkable words: “In love is the light of all virtue, and it, as far as human zeal is capable, constitutes life in Christ”[3].

[1] Abba Dorotheos, Doct. 12. 133

[2]Maximus the Confessor**, Chapters on Love 2.48,**

[3]****Nicholas Cabasilas, Righteous, Seven Discourses on the Life in Christ.

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