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It is a little difficult for me personally to know how to introduce this book since it’s such a tremendous work that I don’t really know where to begin. Accordingly, it seems the best thing to do might be to reproduce Daniel’s forward to it. I plan to give more of a taste of Philemon in a review of Philemon meditates Matthew. Here is Daniel’s introduction:

When Tischendorf, in 1859, made his famous discovery in the monastery of Saint Catherine at Mount Sinai of one of the most ancient manuscripts of the Bible, he left the monastery with a number of other manuscripts; one of these, which was anonymous, did not attract his attention since the Greek script led him to date it to the 11^th century. He entrusted this manuscript to a monk friend, an excellent Hellenist, who passionately set about a translation which he made into Latin, as was the custom of the time. Unhappily, because of his age, this monk died before he could finish his work. The manuscript was then stored away in his monastery, there being no other monk to take up the task.

Some decades later a French monk joined the community and one day came across the manuscript. With his abbot’s authorization and helped by the Latin translation, he set to and retranslated the whole work, this time into French. A very good Hellenist and also very humble, he did an excellent job while maintaining his anonymity. It became apparent that the 11^th century manuscript in fact contained a text from the 6^th century,[1] written by one Philemon, a monk from Gaza who, to our knowledge, wrote nothing else. At this moment, there is no other document that mentions this author; the manuscript is the first and perhaps only thing he wrote; he is cited by no other ancient author. Today he belongs to the company of the humble who sing the glory of God in the heavenly choir, but one day this unknown’s name emerged when the translator noticed it inscribed in acrostic form in the first letter of the opening chapters. We can imagine his joy when he saw appear before his eyes, little by little, letter by letter, “Philemon of Gaza, servant of God.” His interest in the translation increased tenfold and he now had a personal interest in the author, whom he thenceforth considered to be a Church Father.

I met the translator some thirty years ago during a retreat I made in this same monastery; he showed me his work with an enthusiasm which he communicated to me, and I stayed in touch with him through the years until his death. I should own that down these many years, I have become familiar with Philemon of Gaza to the extent of my spiritual walk being significantly affected by him. I owe him a great deal, as will easily be perceived by those who know me. I give infinite thanks to the Lord for everything he has given me through this man. Before his death, the translator asked me if I would be so good as to edit the text, making me promise not to divulge his name, a promise I have respected. As the text is so lengthy, comprising a meditation of the four gospels, I am only publishing here the first gospel meditated by Philemon, which is to say, the Gospel of Mark; it’s for Philemon himself to say why he began with Mark; whatever the reason, the text is of great interest to us as one of the very rare patristic texts devoted to this gospel.

The text is a collection of meditations, not a commentary; this needs to be borne in mind. The author of a commentary endeavors to make every detail of a text clear; in contrast, the author of a meditation pauses over some one detail which touches and speaks to him. He then takes the necessary time to receive in his heart everything that this detail says to him, taking it as coming from God to help him in his life.

A meditation, then, is always very personal and is not undertaken with the intention of it being shared with others; it belongs to the intimacy of the author with God. A commentary is not intended to be personal and can therefore be passed on to others.

If and when an author sets his meditation down in writing, above all this is going to be for himself. He might pick the draft up later, deepen his thinking and further his conversation with God; whatever the case, modesty forbids that it be made known because the writing belongs to the place of intimacy with God. Philemon was one of those who was not writing for others but for himself; as indicated at the very beginning of our manuscript, his text was only discovered high on a shelf in a monastic cell where it was left long after his death, we don’t know just when. Is it perhaps the case that we are betraying him by now publishing it? If so, may he forgive us! Perhaps he would wish to give thanks with us if his meditation helps us too to meditate; he would no doubt be happy to serve us in our walk with God.

While the manuscript is from the 11^th century, it is a copy of an older text; the copy was edited very well but we can’t know if any errors found their way into the original text between the 6^th and 11^th centuries because we have no other copy.

One part of the manuscript is badly damaged, which makes some passages impossible to read; this is the case, for example, with the meditations on the parables of the lamp and the scales (Mk 4:21-25) and the healing of the blind man at Bethsaida (8:22-26). For this reason, these passages don’t figure in the present edition.

There are a number of gaps, due mainly to the poor condition of the lower part of the manuscript. Each of Philemon’s meditations begins at the top of a page and closes at the foot of the page with a prayer, so the poor condition of the manuscript explains why these prayers are incomplete or absent. That said, we can still profit from them because we are more or less invited to continue them in our own prayers.

At this point, I yield to Philemon, asking God to bless you in your reading, that it may stimulate and feed your own meditation.

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[1]The dating to the 6^th century is due to the authors cited in the text, the most recent of whom undoubtedly belong to that time. It cites Dorotheos of Gaza, Barsanuphius and John of Gaza, all from the 6^th century, as well as Abba Seridos, who founded the Gaza monastery at the very end of the 5^th century; he entrusted to Philemon the role of gatekeeper. All this enables us to locate Philemon in the first half of the 6^th century.

In the final chapter, ie ch 16, there is a lovely personal note from Philemon. Elsewhere, there are suggestions about his life, his conversion, his becoming a monk, but here we have what I take to be a deep realization subsequent to these events. Speaking about the resurrection, he first mentions how “a poor unhappy creature came to the gatehouse and said to me that none of all this is true, that it’s nonsense, a poetic fancy or fable, that it is impossible. He was almost aggressive in the way he spoke, so much so that my heart was shocked, troubled.” Then he goes on:

Nevertheless, Lord, in your grace, one day your truth took hold of me as sufficient evidence, like the sun which rises in silence between earth and heaven at a point that cannot be fixed, leaving no trace on the horizon but in a magnificent blend of extreme gentleness and shining majesty; from that day, I have known that you are simply there, silent but shining with gentleness and majesty; everything changed for me that day and my heart came to complete rest. Nothing of the night remains and I can only silently marvel and contemplate. Very quickly the light became so beautiful that you also graced me to see all around me the reflections of your presence in each face, and even when I close my eyes my heart is warmed by your inexpressible light.

This gives a good sense of Philemon, I think.

This volume stands alone but does also continue from vol. 1. Daniel provides the same introduction as before, so the theme is the same; here it is pursued as he looks at the following passages – Mk 4:35-41, the calming of the storm, 5:23-34, the woman with the issue of blood, 5:21-24 and 35-43, which is the portion of the same account concerning Jairus, 9:14-29, the healing of the boy with the unclean spirit following the transfiguration, and 16:1-8, the resurrection (and in Daniel’s view, the gospel closes here at verse 8).

It’s a little difficult to know what to say, which details to point to, there being so many that are worthwhile as we meditate Jesus’ divinity, his humble divinity as discovered by Mark and progressively by the disciples.

Perhaps in the passage on the calming of the sea, we could point to the change Daniel points to in the disciples from having no faith (said by Jesus) to “great fear.” Here they question, “Who is this whom the wind and the sea obey?” Later, when he walks on the water, Jesus gives them the answer which is here left implicit; “I am,” he says.

“Very evident in the calming of the storm is the astonishing change in the disciples from the absence of faith to great awe, a change which evidences the work of the Holy Spirit in their hearts. Though the disciples’ condition was without faith, as Jesus tells them, the Holy Spirit suddenly brought faith to birth in them so filling them not merely with awe but with “great awe,” uniquely in this gospel. The disciples knew this reverence, this holy fear many times (6:50; 9:32; 10:32), but never great fear as here, a fear reflecting the great miracle which turned a “great storm” into a “great calm.” Mark structured his account around these three realities, the great storm, the great calm and the great fear.”

One nice emphasis among many in the account of the healing of the woman in chapter 5 is Jesus’ humility in attributing the healing to her faith.

“After allowing the depth of his love to be seen, now Jesus evidences how humble this love is. What humility this is, to have saved the woman but now efface himself totally before her and tell her that in the end it wasn’t he that saved her but she herself. He is a humble savior, effacing himself and attributing the healing to the woman’s faith.”

When it comes to Jairus, Daniel draw attention to something Jairus would have been well aware of – the contrast between the healing of his daughter and the passages in 1 and 2 Kings when the prophets raise the dead.

“First of all, Jesus had invited him to enter the young girl’s room, in contrast to Elijah and Elisha who had allowed no one in. That Jesus had Jairus come in doubtless included the thought that he would see the differences between his and the actions of the two prophets, and so have his faith enlightened.

Jairus must have noticed the ease, the facility with which Jesus performed the miracle. With Jesus, the miracle took place “immediately.” With Elijah, it took three efforts to obtain the miracle (1 Kgs 17:21), and with Elisha, two (2 Kgs:34ff). Further, for Jesus it was enough just to take the young girl by the hand, and this act alone was decisive, while Elijah and Elisha both acted much more extravagantly. There could be no doubt that Jesus had something more than the prophets.

Then, and this is still more decisive, Elijah like Elisha had said nothing to the child. Neither of them spoke to the dead child; they spoke only to God (1Kgs 17:20,21 and 2 Kgs 4:33) meaning that the miracle was done by God himself and not by his servants. This is very evident in the two prophetic accounts, showing that God alone is able to revive the dead. What happened at the house of the synagogue leader? Jairus saw very clearly that Jesus had not prayed, had not called on God, had not even lifted his eyes to heaven. He had not asked God for the miracle but had done it himself. This could not have escaped this leader of a synagogue.”

There are many beauties Daniel brings out we might otherwise so easily pass over.

Daniel is quite clear that the boy in Mark 9 was not an epileptic! No, he had an unclean spirit, a particularly vicious one. Of greatest interest to me was Daniel’s explanation as to why the disciples were unable to “cast him out.” This, the reader will need to discover for him or herself!

Lastly, then, the Resurrection.

Daniel greatly admires Mark the contemplative and he exemplifies this in a contrast with Matthew:

“As did Matthew for his part, Mark might have transformed the metaphor by narrating a meeting between Jesus and the women, and this would perhaps have been a pedagogically sound way of approaching the reality of the resurrection. However, this is not what he did, no doubt because he understood that Jesus’ appearance is deeper and more inexpressible than any narrative, and that there was therefore no better way than by metaphor to give it expression. Matthew was right and the women had indeed met Jesus, but it went much deeper than he says, so his account is accurate but also highly reductive. What his account does not say, and which no account could ever say, is that the women had contemplated Jesus present before them but also within them, in their hearts. It is this that is beyond telling: Jesus both outside and inside the women. Matthew gives only the external, without being able to say that Jesus was at the same time present to their hearts, present as only God can be present to us while still also outside.”

Daniel focuses on this metaphor that conveys the indescribable.

The link in the comments below is to an article which gives a really excellent account of this book. It is a little lengthy compared with the normal practice on this website, so I will also provide a shorter account here.

There are two volumes, this, the first, looking at episodes from Mark chapters 1 to 9; in fact volume 2 does the same but also turnsto ch 16. Daniel gives an introduction to Mark’s gospel before considering 5 passages: Mark 2:1-12, the healing of the paralytic let down through the roof; 5:1-20, the possessed man out of whom came the Legion; 6:30-44, where the bread is multiplied; 8:27-33, in which Jesus announces his Passion; 9:2-8, the account of the transfiguration.

In his introduction, Daniel stresses that he will be looking constantly at the way Jesus’ divinity is made apparent by Mark. The following is essential, I think – “If we have difficulty today perceiving the divinity of Jesus, it seems to me this is because he is humble, and in our eyes humility is incompatible with the glory of divinity. It’s certainly true that Jesus is humble, and I would say doubly so, humble in his humanity as well as in his divinity because God himself is humble. This is unacceptable to anyone who thinks that God cannot be both glorious and humble. What exactly though is glory? If the most glorious of kings combines pride with his glory, the pride will tarnish the glory and diminish it. However, if he is humble, his humility embellishes and enhances his glory. Humility combines wonderfully with glory. To say that God is humble takes away nothing from his glory; on the contrary, it elevates and makes it still more magnificent. The perfect humility of Jesus beautifies his humanity and his divinity as well. On this basis, we mustn’t be given pause by Jesus’ humility but should rather welcome it as a quality which both hides and reveals his divinity.” The introduction proceeds to show a few places where Jesus’ divinity is most plainly stated before settling into demonstrating his divinity at work in our passages.

One focus of the first passage is on Jesus’ forgiveness of the man’s sins – a prerogative of God. Clearly, then, Jesus is God! The unseen God is also present – but it is indeed unseen and  humbly that he heals.

The account of the Gadarene demonstrates God’s infinite care for this one man, separated from both God and human society yet still crying out for help. Daniel sees, after the man is delivered, Jesus (God) and the man sitting silently, contemplating each other.

The multiplication of the loaves opens with Jesus conducting a retreat: “Come apart and rest a while.” The passage, in which Jesus’ actions are contrasted with Elish (2 Kgs 4) is seen to be linked to Communion in the way He broke the bread, prefiguring his passion, his death, as announced in chapter 8. Here, Daniel discusses a couple of theological issues, but the focus remains the same:  “In his great reserve and modesty, in his unfathomable humility, Jesus contents himself with saying that ‘the Son of Man is come to give his life a ransom for many.’ He goes no further, preferring to be silent. But what infinite love there is in the silence . . . After hearing Jesus announce his death to them, the disciples were silent too. Jesus had no need to speak further; each knew himself involved; each understood that it was for him that Jesus was giving his life.

The Transfiguration is such an amazing passage it is hard to know what to say. “Hear Him!”

First a small but telling comment to do with the title. In French the title is Le dernier entretien; the word translated into “entretien” would normally be rendered in English as “discourse”, but the French could actually be translated as “chat”, and that’s really much of where Daniel’s focus is as he looks at John 14-16, where Jesus speaks to his close disciples and calls them (us) his friends. The “chat” is foundational to the church —and, says Daniel, it is as a chat rather then the frequent idea of a farewell address that the passage should be read— and, as a chat, has very largely to do with relationship, not doctrine, certainly in the way Daniel presents it. Before calling the disciples “friends”, Jesus first calls them “little children”; here is a typical paragraph presenting Daniel’s interest:

“Little children”: this puts Jesus in the position of father, not biologically of course, but spiritually. He shows us the way of genuine spiritual paternity, not arrogating to himself the title of father which he systematically reserves for God, the one true Father, before whom he always situates himself as Son. Using the term “little children” rather than “my little children” indicates his wish not to have any hold over his disciples, but without abdicating his responsibility as a spiritual father. The whole of the discourse in fact demonstrates his concern for his children, to comfort, strengthen, teach and build them up in love. He reveals himself as the perfect model of a spiritual father, to the point of giving his life for them.

The second chapter is entitled simply The Holy Spirit. Daniel makes the coming of the Holy Spirit very personal, stressing particularly that it was a strong personal concern of Jesus for his friends, for whom he wishes maximum comfort. To say that Daniel strongly and consistently emphasizes the highly personal nature of all Jesus says is probably a sufficient summary – but of course he does this in depth under the heading of each of Jesus’ statements about the Holy Spirit. (Perhaps one of the most outstanding chapters in any of his books.)

Chapter 3 is Lord, where are you going? He is going to the Father (not heaven) . . . to prepare a place; and this place where the Father is is “with you”; not oikos, the temple; not oikia, a house; but mone, a humble dwelling. “With this in mind, I believe that mysteriously the dwelling place of the Father is alongside the Son and the Holy Spirit in the disciple. How humble and extraordinary is the Trinity, preferring the heart of the disciple to the Jerusalem Temple and the celestial temple. It’s a miracle of divine love, God coming humbly to inhabit the heart of the disciple.” The key words here are humble and humility, the emphasis of this section.I’m sorry not to have space to do more than hint at this.

Ch 4 is titled Love and examines what Jesus says in the discourse about the love that subsists between all the parties involved, the Father, the Son, (not the Holy Spirit), and you and me, dealing with each relationship individually. Suffice to say that it’s great and here are a couple of paragraphs:- Let’s look closely at this final discourse — what is the love that is spoken about? Well, the love of the Father for Jesus, and his love for his Father, never the love of the Holy Spirit (the Holy Spirit is never in the New Testament the subject of the verb ‘love’!); Jesus also talks about the love of the Father for the disciples, and of his own love for them; and finally, he discusses the disciples’ love for him and love among themselves, but without mentioning the disciples’ love for the Father! . . . The verb for “love,” used here twice, is not agapaô but philéô; not, that is, the verb which magnificently speaks of the way God loves without expecting anything in return, gratuitously, but the verb which speaks of reciprocal love and even God’s friendship, which itself is also magnificent. . . . . This statement from Jesus is absolutely extraordinary, and a most surprising revelation for the disciples; never, in fact, had they thought of being friends of God, not so much as having the pretension. Perhaps they had never even spoken to God of their love for him? . . . No, Jesus is telling them; God has found in your heart whereof to make you his friends! What grace this is for those who knew themselves to be so little worthy of what they were hearing from Jesus’ lips! How humble is this God who binds himself in friendship to a bunch of Galilee fishermen!

The fifth chapter is simply titled More on Love and continues the same themes but tending to focus on obedience, on love in action as demonstrated in John 13, Jesus washing the disciples feet. It’s obedience that leads to humility, Daniel says, and to an increasing experience of Jesus’ love in us. There is a great deal in this chapter; I will just briefly mention the take on ‘a new commandment I give you, that you love one another’ which Daniel says is the commandment of a physician – go and do this and you will get well!

This great book closes with an Afterword which sends us to Jesus’ prayer in John 17.

This great book divides neatly into two. The first takes a long meditative look at Christ in Gethsemane and reads very well along with The Silence of God during the Passion; the second looks in general at the issue of temptation.

Jesus was faced with something terrible and dark at Gethsemane, something we might not immediately notice, darker even than the approach of Satan. He cites Zechariah, “Arise, sword and strike the shepherd!” but he changes it to God saying, “I [God] will strike the shepherd.” Daniel doesn’t feel able to comment at length on this, dark as it is; instead he focuses on 1. The amazing idea that God would share these sombre events with us. 2. Our weakness, exemplified in the sleeping disciples. 3. God’s help proffered to Jesus. 4. Jesus’ trust in the Father.

Chapter 2, while a general look at temptation, examines Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness. Daniel frequently prefers to focus on Mark’s account of an event, and does so here, though he compares it with the other gospels; Mark is very brief but his concision says a lot, and he is always making discreet allusions to the OT, an important one here being to Jesus as the scapegoat of Lev 16. How are we to overcome temptation? In the same way Jesus overcame Satan, but armed with his help.

This is not one of Daniel’s works which will immediately go to the top of the queue for publication because it is not a meditation primarily concerned with the Bible; which is not to say that it is not a great book, because it is. Daniel’s interest as always is prayer and meditation, but here it is focused on the practice of 5 of the desert fathers, Abbas Anthony, Lucius, Isaac, Moses and Sisoes, with side journeys looking at ‘matters arising.’

Of the five men discussed, Anthony and Moses are the two something of whose biographies are known; the chapters concerning these two therefore have more to do with them as individuals and their growth in faith.

The main theme with Anthony is unceasing prayer and how he arrived at this; the answer is, through many difficulties, difficulties with which Daniel makes sure we can identify. The point is made that where Athanasius’ well known account is more or less a hagiography, the apophthegms found in the two collections, the ‘alphabetic’ and the ‘systematic,’ are relatively bare of praise, presenting facts; indeed Anthony is seen to denounce his own negligence and failings. Humility is the central motif to Anthony’s life.

Abba  Moses was an extraordinary man, a violent man who was saved out of a criminal background, who we then see struggling to accept the grace of God. He was evidently a most impressive figure to those around him, and he learned to love God, a God who answered his prayers, and yet seems not to have grasped God’s full acceptance of him.

The general theme is unceasing prayer, and the accounts of the other men focus on this, but diverge from the way prayer practices developed into recounting some very interesting experiences, including for example Arsenius whose whole being was filled as though with fire. In a sense, these men in their solitary practices in the deserts of Egypt are indeed remote from us today, yet, as Daniel says in his introduction, ‘ by the grace of the Holy Spirit there is woven between them and us a wonderful communion, one to which we all too often pay little attention.’

Daniel’s unwrapping of the usually pithy apophthegms is often remarkably insightful and always instructive.

The three times of day for meditation and praise of the title correspond to the biblical pattern, as for example in Daniel (Dan 6:10), as well as the pattern for the Fraternité des Veillieurs of which Daniel Bourguet was prior; that is, thrice daily devotions. The book looks helpfully at aspects both practical and spiritual of the devotional life; as one would expect with Daniel, the emphasis is on the enabling presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

The first chapter has a look at monastic practice, particularly as found in the early Desert Fathers, from whom, Daniel likes to say, we have much to learn; it then turns to what he terms the “liturgy” of the book of Revelation, where liturgy means worship; it is in this liturgy, which includes the entirety of creation, that we participate in our private devotions.

The second chapter concerns “Helps and difficulties in prayer.” Of course, this has to do with prayer as devotion rather than petitions, so the issue is soon raised of “distraction.” Some practical suggestions are made, but mainly the concern is why distraction occurs; interestingly, the only biblical reference to distraction is about Martha, who was distracted by many things, which Daniel takes to mean that we are distracted as a result of what he elsewhere discusses under the rubric of spiritual maladies or malaises.I don’t remember quite where, but somewhere Daniel discusses a man’s possible reactions to seeing a shapely woman sunbathing on the other side of the street — does he close the curtains over his window, or perhaps he reaches for the binoculars? The subject of our distractions will tend to reveal a spiritual malady!

The third chapter covers some of the same ground as Bible Meditation, that is, it concerns meditation, and contains some most interesting examples of meditation in action (so to speak!). There are passages and books of Daniel’s which more directly deal with the Bible, but, as always, there is a wonderful spirit to breathe in as we read.

There is what amounts to a little afterword which concludes as follows:

Without this love our devotions come to nothing. When I have my devotions, morning, noon and evening, “If I have not love, I am no more than a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” (1 Cor 13:1).

The question is not, “Do I pray well?”  Rather it is, “Do I love truly?”

The title of this book in French is Un chemin de liberté, l’ascèse, A pathway of freedom, Asceticism; we considered using the word Asceticism in the translation title and as of this writing I am still not really sure whether the use of the term is attractive or repellant. An important element of the book is just that every form of spiritual discipline is a form of asceticism, and rather than focusing on some of the historical and sometimes harsh forms of ascetic behaviour, Daniel points out that as time went by, the Church Fathers continually moderated the extremes as not proving helpful, in fact concluding that temperance was best. The objective of all ascetic practice is humility, or rather, God, who looks for humility.

In fact, I would suggest that this one book, perhaps above all of Daniel’s books, focuses on and says most helpful things about this theme, HUMILITY! This is particularly true of chapter 4. Perhaps the loveliest thing of all is to think about the HUMILITY of God!

I would suggest that this book is in fact intensely practical from a pastoral point of view. It should be read together with Spiritual Maladies and promotes a very sound, sensible and practical approach to spiritual growth. Some elements of modern psychology may help, but there is much here that is simply more consonant with the word of God; the book really has to do with God as our Healer. I would personally highly recommend this book and, while I do that with all Daniel’s books, I would say this book is particularly valuable as a link with the Church Fathers, who are often cited, and as a guide to ‘spiritual formation.’

There are five chapters.

1. Asceticism in the Bible. The Greek word aksesis belongs to the sporting arena; in the spiritual sense it implies the training of the body to obey the soul and help fulfill God’s word. The biblical background has mainly to do with fasting, which is stated to be for the humbling of the soul. Daniel goes through much of what is said in the Bible about fasting.

How, though, is this humbling of the soul to be manifest unless, in particular, by imposing on oneself fasting with regard to food? It is entirely natural that anyone who is deeply afflicted about having saddened the God he loves and to whom he is attached would really have no taste for food, not until forgiveness has been received. Anyone who wishes to show God his affliction will voluntarily accept the humbling of his soul in fasting. Fasting perfectly finds a place here as an expression of repentance, and even, if necessary, as an aid to experiencing the repentance more intensely. Fasting is part of the process of repentance.

The biblical expression says it clearly: fasting is the humbling of the soul. It is not a vexation undertaken to mortify the body. Fasting is directed at the soul through the body.

Further, to chastise one’s body is to take God’s place; it is to judge in place of the true judge. To humble is not the same as to punish; it is a process of penitence directed towards the only judge, from whom grace and forgiveness are hoped. The ascetic who punishes himself through his asceticism is only ignoring God, as though there were no expectation of his grace and pardon. No; fasting, and spiritual discipline generally, accompanies a person in their movement towards God in full expectation of his grace. This is fundamental!

Jesus sought to purify fasting of its various accretions of pride! A person who fasts is always more or less full of the sadness of Yom Kippur or some other sorrowful day. Setting out to seek pardon of God is to prepare to meet your judge, in uncertainty as to his mercy and grace. But here, Jesus replaces the word “God” with “Father,” even “your Father”! The meeting Jesus depicts is that of intimacy between a child and his Father “in secret.” Repentance is then filled with an immense hope, since for Jesus the word “Father” overflows with love; the quest for grace and forgiveness from the Father proceeds much more quickly than with a judge. However, the pain of having offended the Father is also much greater than that of offending a judge! The teaching of Jesus underlines here both the pain connected with fasting and the hope which prepares for joy. You, when you fast, get ready to meet your Father . . . A joyful sadness!

2. The ascetic’s warfare. Daniel looks at the practices of the monks in overcoming pride. The enemy is not the body, which is instead fortified by discipline; no it’s pride. Jesus calls us all to ascetic effort — STRIVE to enter the strait gate; he himself led the way as he strove, agonized in Gethsemane. This struggle is a necessary facet of life.

3. Asceticism and spiritual therapy. There is a discussion of the passions. The tendency was to move away from violent striving – conquering – to remedy, therapy, with the 8 passions as a major diagnostic tool, with the 3 primary passions, the love of money, love of glory, love of pleasures, all leading to the others. Ascetic effort reveals our problem – do we find giving hard? – then we find ourselves afflicted by avarice, and also reveals our lack of love for our neighbor. Discipline helps the healing process – but it is God who heals; thus, as we engage with the discipline of giving (with God!) we become free of avarice and begin to take joy in giving.

When we take hold of what Jesus reveals about God, our relation to evil as it relates to God is also profoundly changed. Before a judge we will often seek to minimize or hide our participation in wrong doing in order to avoid punishment. We will also seek the judge’s pardon but always with the fear of not receiving it, By contrast, when dealing with a physician we want to expose to him our troubles, those blunders that make us even worse. We are thirsty for his intervention, longing for him to give us a precise prescription to follow; thirsty to collaborate in our healing, longing to follow the discipline he will propose.

The healing face of God revealed in Christ leads us always greatly to desire to be brought into the light and met with. We cannot really say this of God as judge!

As long as God remains to us essentially a judge, asceticism will always have a severe and even somewhat repressive side. When we discover God the physician, it will become what it should be, a way of health, a way of liberty.

4. Asceticism and synergy.

We see that there are two forces joining together, Paul’s and Christ’s. In his ascetic discipline, compared to the running of a race, Paul is animated by his own energy, with which is mixed the energy of Christ, who gave the first impulse by “seizing” him and then never ceases to give of his strength to such a degree that, having taken hold of it, Paul never slackens. It is this combination of two forces which means we can speak of “synergy.”

It is a synergy of humility. We know ourselves nothing and yet God ascribes to us the victory!

5. The fruit of asceticism

Here, Daniel switches, nominally at least, attention away from humility to the issue of purity of heart, which has as its outcome seeing God, and fruit, the fruit of the Spirit. However, purity of heart and humility come to pretty much the same thing; it’s just that there is a change in focus in the result – what we see.

In our pride we see only our own actions; in our humility we can see the hidden activity of God. With the illumination of our understanding, finally clear-sighted, it will be given us to see God at work, marveling to discover that God chooses our acts, small as they are, to perform miracles of his providence. It is so true that what we give to our neighbor is not the same measure as they receive, simply because over and above our charity, they receive God’s. God’s giving is more just, more appropriate than ours; it engenders neither embarrassment nor shame. Human charity gives birth in the recipient to a sort of embarrassment and shame, mixed with thanksgiving; God’s charity gives rise to thanksgiving purified of all shame.

The more humble we are, the less our eyes will be fixed on what we do, and will see only the actions of God. The truly humble see only God’s charity and not their own, God’s compassion and not their own, the love of God and not their own . . . The humble person who is in God, sees only what God is doing in them.

It’s not surprising that a contemplative like Daniel should be drawn to John 17 and the issue of sanctification. The book we have titled in translation The world: sanctuary and battlefield, in French, Le monde, sanctuaire et champ de bataille, is an extended look at the passage, whereas here it is the starting place for a general look at sanctification leading into what it means to be a priest, examining closely the chapter in Leviticus (16) on the role of the high priest, Aaron, on the day of Atonement, ie making atonement. Clearly, sanctification has to do not so much with moral behaviour, but with intercession, prayer.

A few observations from the first chapter on Jesus’ prayer in John 17. Firstly, this was not a subject mentioned even once by Jesus until his Passion, in the shadow of the Cross; sanctification has meaning only through the cross. Secondly, as part of a general discussion of sanctification, Daniel says that holiness certainly means moral perfection, but rooted in God, received from God, turned towards God, experienced in God. Next: what part does the Law play in sanctification? Well, the Law is not so much commandments as teaching, and contains promise: it is not simply Be holy! but also You shall be holy! God will help you; it is he who sanctifies. Lastly, among many possible comments, Jesus invites us to take his prayer in John 17 and make it our own, in prayer for those he entrusts to us.

It’s worth saying in passing, that Daniel sometimes touches on theological controversies, and he does so here, contrasting Luther’s and Calvin’s views on sanctification. More generally, of his books, Father, sanctify them is a little more technical, a little more theological than most.

The larger part of the book is devoted to Yom Kippur and Aaron’s role. Again, a few observations. Firstly, a close look at the passage brings home the truth of God’s holiness, and what it means for Him to approach people and deal with sin; the Yom Kippur ritual is amazing, including a theophany; it’s very rich. Secondly, the way to read is through the grid of the letter to the Hebrews; and thirdly, connected to Hebrews and its Christology, there is a look at the appearance of the priest following atonement as recorded in Sirah, the priest appearing in glory.

This review merely touches on a number of very rich themes in a very instructive book.

This is the shortest of Daniel’s books, but very helpful to an understanding of his purposes and of the contemplative life. It is the contemplative life which is the Pathway of the title, and is approached through a discussion of what it means to be a monk, a word which unfortunately tends to bring up quite the wrong sort of meaning.

The French for our “monk” is moine, which Daniel tells us seems to derive from a Greek word meaning single or solitary. This can be seen in two ways: firstly, simply being alone; but secondly as being “one” in the sense of unified. While it is easy to go out of the world, become a monk, in the physical sense, this is by no means the same as having left behind attachments to the world, and indeed a true monk can be “one” in the midst of a crowd. It is this sense of the contemplative, integrated life which Daniel seeks to bring to the protestant church world to which he belongs, a sense we might well feel is lacking both corporately and individually.

Daniel looks briefly at the background to the monastic movement. He says that at a time when the then known world had been evangelized, it was felt that the remaining frontiers were internal, that the inner man needed to be evangelized, hence withdrawal into the desert. It was also thought that to do this was to follow Christ into the wilderness; above all it was to seek a life completely devoted to God. Daniel makes explicit that the solitude of contemplation and prayer combined with a community is his objective.

Monks typically have a threefold vow: poverty, obedience and chastity. These are discussed in their relevance to us: poverty, as not thinking of ourselves as rich, but as always in deep need of God — Luther, it seems, said that “at the end of the day, we are no more than beggars”; obedience as learning to be like Jesus who did only his Father’s will; and chastity, as our need to love God and our neighbour — not other things.

Fulfilling these three vows may be seen as our spiritual warfare, an important part of which in the monastic life has to do with the Psalms; Daniel looks briefly at this. He also defines spiritual warfare as asceticism, for a full discussion of which see the book of that title (see Spiritual discipline). Similarly subverting the way we may see certain words is the way this book closes: the one and only true monk — is Christ.