God
the physician
The face of God as physician is a
profoundly biblical reality; I would like to begin with a review of the theme,
investigating the degree to which it is a constant through the Bible.
In church history, the view of God as
physician was an approach adhered to particularly by the Greek Fathers. The
Latin Fathers, little by little, left it aside, and the result is that today it
is being increasingly forgotten; instead, the image of God as judge was
emphasized, at times to the point of distortion. This western tradition is so
strong that today, despite its importance, we need to take great pains if we
are to recover the biblical revelation of God the physician in its true proportions.
I will therefore rest my case on
biblical texts, but if I also mention the Greek Fathers, it is in simple thankfulness
since it is they who have helped open my eyes to this aspect of revelation.
Indebted as I am to the Greek Fathers, I
am also to Jean-Claude Larchet; he became their spokesman in an enormous book[1]
which is also very present in what I will be saying; however, so as not to
overburden my remarks, I will not actually be citing it. Where Larchet is
almost essentially patristic in his approach, I wish to stay close to the biblical
testimony which forms the basis and the support for the Fathers’ elaborations.
One of the major difficulties we will
encounter stems from the fact that in the western world the discourse of
psychology has prevailed over the spiritual. Words which are common to the two
methodologies have come to be somewhat booby-trapped; they don’t have the same
resonances, and this leads to misunderstandings. I will be using them according
to their spiritual acceptation, whereas they all too easily understood according
to the psychological; thus, there is ambiguity today if we speak of maladies or
sicknesses of the interior life. My intention is to keep to a discussion of
spiritual maladies, knowing full well that doubtless others may immediately
think in terms of psychological illness; this is to be avoided. Spiritual
maladies are those such as pride, avarice, or lust; not schizophrenia, neurosis
or psychosis. Please be careful! There is a wide range of potential
misunderstandings.
Our interior life can be understood
along two separate lines, the psychological and the spiritual; complicating matters
further is that God does not occupy at all a similar role in the two
methodologies. In modern psychological discourse God may be taken into account,
but is then generally regarded as just one of the possible factors in traumas.
In the spiritual discourse, God is ever present; it is he who fills the role of
therapist, and, indeed, is seen as the only therapist, encounter with whom is
far from traumatizing! In short, we see that to approach God as the physician
for our spiritual life goes rather against our normal mindset; we will press
forward nonetheless!
May our proceedings be truly spiritual,
which is to say born of and illuminated by the Holy Spirit, without whom we cannot
but become enmeshed in misunderstandings! May he guide us now in our quest for
God the physician!
[1] Jean-Claude Larchet Therapeutique des maladies spirituelles, Le Cerf, Paris, 1997.
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Jesus heals sins
Jesus takes account of the connection
between sin and spiritual sickness, but in such a way that he corrects the way
sin is regarded. Effectively, the link between sin and spiritual sickness means
that Jesus looks at sin less in its penal aspect and more as something to be cured.
He does not judge the sinner; on the contrary he labors to treat and heal him.
When the Evangelists cite Isaiah 6:10,
it is very interesting to note that the people who are sick with sin are
converted so as to be “forgiven” according to Mark 4:12, or to be “healed” according
to Matthew 13:15 (see also John 12:40;
Acts 28:27). Mark here keeps sin in the penal sphere whereas Matthew, Luke and
John place it in the medical. This hesitation of the Evangelists about the
verse from Isaiah show that sin pertains thoroughly and simultaneously to both
the penal and the medical. However, all things considered, Jesus himself seems
to have considered sin more from the medical angle than the juridical; it is
rather as from the mouth of a healer that we should understand the statement
that “I am not come to judge but to heal.”
This outlook of Jesus on sin modifies our outlook on sin. Before a judge, I hide my ills, my sin; before a physician I expose it. So, according to the way Jesus invites me to look at my sinI will either hide from God or open up to him . . . What a turning point in the spiritual life with the discovery that Jesus presents himself, above all, as a physician!
God heals sins
To think of sin in its remedial
dimension is not an invention of Jesus. The Old Testament very often envisaged
sin from this angle. For example, when there is a question of the infidelity of
the people of Israel, in a context which threatens condemnation, God suddenly
changes his tone and speaks in this way to the people, “Return and I will heal your unfaithfulness” (Jer 3:22). God does
not speak of “pardoning” the unfaithfulness but of healing it. God presents
himself not as a judge who is merciful, but as the physician to the people’s
sins, the healer of the spiritual malady of unfaithfulness.
Earlier, before Jeremiah, God had said
the same thing in the mouth of the prophet Hosea, “I will heal their apostasy” (14:4).
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Cain
We said with regard to Jesus that a name
reveals the identity of a person, the mystery of their being. What of Cain? It
is an interesting name.
First of all, it was given Cain by his
mother, who explains the choice making a play on words with the verb qânâh, which means “acquire” or “procreate.”[1]
“I have formed a man with the Lord,” as
our translation says. Eve affirms here that God is a father to Cain, and indeed
God behaves as a thoroughly admirable father throughout this passage. The
spiritual father is certainly more of a physician to the soul than he is a
judge. It is with both the love of a father and the abilities of a physician
that God sits down at the bedside of his sick son.
But also, the name Cain makes a play
with the verb qana, which means “to be jealous, full of zeal, ardent,”and this makes Cain the prototype of
the passionate and fervent; for this reason, when the Fathers comment that
anger is a sickness of the passions, it means that Cain is engaged, assailed in
the depths of his being, at the core of his identity.
For the Fathers, the soul comprehends
three functions: passion, desire and reason. Passion, like the other functions
of the soul, is positive, created by God. Man is in the image of God and this
with regard to passion as well. God himself is passionate, zealous, jealous,
except that he does not become sick in his passions in the way men do.
In his passion, in his jealous zeal, God
turns against everything that can assail man, his covenant partner. In the same
way, man’s passion turns against everything that might assail his covenant
relation with God. This passion which protects the covenant relation with God
is a passion of great good, but man’s passion can easily be led astray and become
sick. This is the case when it mistakes its goal and seeks to protect other
bonds, other attachments. Passion falls ill when it throws away its concern for
the divine connection in favor of alternatives. Anger is surely a spiritual
malady since it affects relationship both with God and one’s neighbor.
Cain, passionate, full of zeal and
jealous, in the image of his spiritual father, here becomes sick in the depths
of his being.
[1] KJV perhaps tries to recreate this – “I have gotten a man from the Lord.” (Trans.)
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Why are you angry and
why is your face fallen?
In fact, God asks not just one question
but two. Perhaps he even left a pause between them, expecting a reply. Cain
responds to neither.
Would a judge ask such questions?
Certainly not! A judge asks about actions, and Cain has done nothing. It is not
even he who has intended his anger, but anger which has taken hold of him. “Why has this inflamed you so?” asks God.
The truth is that Cain here is more a victim of anger than the guilty party. We
know that Cain will later turn murderer, but at a present he has not raised so
much as his little finger. No, a judge has no reason to step in here.
It is rather the physician who sits down
at Cain’s bedside to ask his patient about the changes in his appearance: “why
this reddening of the nose and why this downcast look on your face?”
God thus begins his consultation, asking
questions about the symptoms he notes so as to reach a diagnosis with a view to
prescribing an appropriate treatment.
Why?
When God asks questions like this, it is
not that he doesn’t know the answers. God, in fact, sounds out the kidneys and
the heart[1]
and so understands the symptoms in the nose or the face without having to ask
questions! When he asks, the objective is more that Cain will ask too, ask
himself the questions, “Why am I angry and why are my features downcast?” The
spiritual father is a good teacher!
God does not ask about the strength of
the anger (“Why are you very angry?”), but the reason which has given birth
to the anger; “for what reason are you angry?” We see that God is guiding Cain
to look within himself, to take a good look at his behavior and the hidden
motivations behind his state of mind. God is helping Cain realize what has
provoked his anger; he reveals to Cain that anger comes in reaction to
something that provokes it. This truly is a spiritual father helping his son to
discern things; the questions are positive, friendly and salutary.
All this is most just; anger is provoked
by some fact, but we don’t always know what; or alternatively, we don’t want to
know. Meanwhile, to discern the cause of the anger, to look it in the face, is
to already be on the road to healing. God is seeking with these questions to set
Cain in this direction.
What then is the fact that has provoked Cain’s
anger? This is told us just previously in the passage; it is the fact that God
has accepted Abel’s offering but not Cain’s.
We might think that it is Abel who has
provoked Cain’s anger by making an offering at the same time. Cain had indeed taken
an initiative which Abel immediately followed, but, if that were the reason for
Cain’s anger, he would have become angry earlier. His anger would have been
signaled immediately after the mention of Abel’s offering, even before God
responds to the two offerings.
No, it is not Abel but God himself who
has aroused Cain’s anger!
God knows why he accepted one offering
rather than the other, but Cain knows nothing. God does not explain himself,
but here he asks Cain in order to find out how he felt about and understood
this choice. “Why are you angry?” also
means “How has your understanding of my attitude produced such a state?”
Cain, however, has no desire to reply!
This silence is embarrassing. Faced with Cain’s silence, the Fathers have
sought the answer to God’s question, and we shall try as well.
I don’t believe that Cain’s anger
proceeds from the fact that God prefers mutton to fruit or even shepherds to
growers. Rather, I believe God chose the second offering rather than the first
because it is that of the younger brother not the elder. It is Cain alone who
took the initiative in making the offering, an excellent initiative which
speaks of Cain’s love for God. God has not required any offering so Cain’s is
freely given; it is the gesture of a freely-given love. Abel has done nothing
but copy! The initiative belongs to Cain, to the elder. God should have honored
this initiative, honored the right of the elder brother, honored this act of
love.
Cain was attached to his initiative, to
his act of love, to his rights as the elder. I would say right here that
passion becomes anger when it protects something to which it is more attached
than God or a neighbor. So, Cain is attached to the fact that he is the older
brother and the initiative he has taken. When God doesn’t honor this, he
undermines this attachment of Cain’s; he undermines Cain’s self-love. God’s
choice has wounded Cain in his self-love and the anger betrays this wound. This
is very common; anger bespeaks a wound to self-love.
This is something anger can signify,
what it might translate into, but it doesn’t state or formulate it. Now it is Cain’s
place to do just this, to find a way to put it into words before God. But he is
silent!
Why should we seek to reply in Cain’s
place? It’s because through this text God is searching us out too, about our
anger. “Daniel, why are you angry?” Faced with a question like this, I am going
to have to learn how to answer. This is why the Fathers sought to see clearly
what it is that provokes anger. When a physician questions, it is good to know
how to respond; it is part of the healing.
By digging into the reasons for anger,
the Fathers perceived that wounding of self-love can bring to light various
spiritual maladies.
Cain might have been attached to his
rights as the older brother in the same way one can be attached to some item as
a piece of personal property; in this case his attachment would be a form of
the spiritual malady known as avarice; avaricious of his right to seniority.
Cain might have found in his seniority a
reason for pride, another spiritual malady; a Cain attached to his rank would
be wounded in his pride.
He might also have been frustrated not
to have been honored by God as he expected. In this case he would be attached
to others’ opinion of himself, which is another form of spiritual malady, vain
glory.
As we see, the same anger might be the
expression of pride, avarice or vain glory, as well as other latent ills,
buried but revealed by the anger which is their symptom. We also note that it
is easy enough to discern the anger, but that to discern the malady behind the
anger is more difficult.
When we come down to it, the question
posed by God is essential, welcome and even salutary; it is an invitation to
discern the deep-seated ill hidden behind the anger. God asks the question precisely
because there are a variety of possible answers. He is thus an excellent
spiritual father, an excellent doctor to the soul — two facts joined at the
hip.
It is now for Cain to say whether he
finds himself to be proud, avaricious, attached to vain glory, jealous or
something else . . . But his reply is
awaited!
The account is wonderful, leading us to
the discovery of a multitude of points noted by the Fathers. In particular this:
one spiritual malady often hides another; it is its symptom, because it comes
wrapped in it, as if it were its daughter. What we have noted about anger is of
value when it comes to other spiritual maladies in that each can be a symptom
of another. In such a case, the spiritual malady should no longer be treated as
though it were the sickness itself, but as a symptom of something more
profound, something it manifests and which should be the real object of
treatment. Just as there are connections between spiritual maladies and
physical maladies, so there are connections between different spiritual
maladies.
By taking a contrary position we can see
how anger could be the symptom of another, more hidden malady.
If Cain was not proprietorial,
avaricious of his position as the elder, he would not have become angry, but
would rather rejoice to see himself dispossessed of his asset in favor of his
younger brother.
If Cain was humble, he would marvel to
see God exalting the lesser.
If Cain was not attached to vain glory,
he would rejoice to see the honor God has done to Abel.
All this clearly shows, it seems to me,
that behind Cain’s anger another spiritual malady is hiding.
If then a malady can be symptomatic of
another malady more deeply buried, the Fathers would apply themselves to the
treatment of the hidden malady rather than the symptom. One can well understand
that in the healing of the buried malady, the symptom will go, whereas healing
of the symptom will not cause the deeper sickness to leave. In short, to heal
anger, it is the hidden malady which must be treated.
Further though, since the maladies
hidden behind the anger vary with each case, we understand why the Fathers
propose different remedies for different cases of anger. For example, anger
could be treated by fasting if the anger comes from an excessive attachment to
food (“greed”). It could be treated by charitable giving if the anger proceeds
from avarice, etc. All this is correct; avarice healed does not become angry
when its money is touched; the healed gourmand does not become angry when
wronged with regard to food. This would also suggest that it is not easy to
treat oneself; there must be discernment of what lies buried within.
Without the help of a physician of the
soul, who are we to discern what is hidden? In general, it is only after many
fits of anger that we can work out in ourselves what the source is; it is usually
for the same reason that we become angry, not for other reasons, so, when the
same situation repeats itself, we do eventually learn. With the access of
anger, we note the source; I leave you to examine yourself. But here, what
about poor Cain?! This is his very first crisis of anger! Happily for him, it
is God himself who questions him in order to help. If Cain’s responses to the
physician are not clear, this itself will push him to be more precise, to the
point where he can see the source of his anger.
But he doesn’t reply!
Cain’s silence is understandable; the
one who is questioning him is the very cause of his anger. The physician is
himself responsible for the crisis he wishes to treat. It is he who has made
the patient sick! The consultation has reached an impasse.
This is what so often happens; we wish
to be treated by God, but it’s God’s fault that we are sick, or so at least we
think . . .
Nevertheless God draws near. God takes
the first step; he could do no more. In effect, he comes to reconcile things
and with his question he holds out the olive branch to Cain, for him to vent
his spleen, his bile, his anger on God. God knows that Cain is angry with him,
and he comes to reconcile. This is the best remedy that God can offer Cain for
his healing. “Why are you angry?” God
awaits an answer something like, “It’s your fault! You shouldn’t have looked
down on my offering . . .”
However, Cain does not answer! The drama
of anger is that it sometimes refuses reconciliation; the anger then closes
over once more on the wrong done it, and becomes resentful in its silence.
God’s attitude in this process of
reconciliation is very important for us. God humbly takes the first step
towards us and offers us his hand. The response he awaits is prayer. Prayer is a
remedy for anger. To pour out one’s anger before God is a wonderful remedy,
even if it is anger directed at God. The physician is quite used to being
attacked by the patient; he is used to the pus when he lances an abscess. Even
if Cain feels the need to curse, God is ready to listen to the cursings of his
prayer if this will be liberating for him. He doesn’t come to judge but to
heal.
Prayer comes from a heart that is
opening; this opening up is essential in any therapeutic process, and this is
what God is awaiting, looking for, and what he wishes to provoke with his questions:
the opening up our heart before him.
If it is difficult for us to discern the
reason for our sicknesses, here too, in prayer, we can ask God for insight. To
tell God that we lack discernment is also prayer; it is once more to open our
heart to him.
When Cain begins to open his heart to
God, he will have taken the first step along the road to healing. Instead, Cain
obstinately refuses to go down that road.
Faced with this silence, there is no
capitulation from God. He perseveres in his approach, as do the best of
spiritual fathers, the best doctors of the soul. He doesn’t leave Cain to
enclose himself in silence.
[1] See Psalm 26.2. (Trans.)
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Christ, the vanquisher
of the passions
The Fathers noted that the three
principal passions are exactly the same as those that Jesus overcame in the
wilderness during the temptation. Even Jesus has therefore been exposed like us
to the seductiveness of the passions, though he kept himself from them. Jesus
was exposed to greed when it was suggested he turn the stones into bread (Luke 4:3–4);
to avarice, when the tempter proposed the kingdoms of the world as goods to be
possessed (Luke 4:5–8); and to vainglory when it was suggested he throw himself
down from the Temple pinnacle, thereby bringing him glory in the eyes of the
crowd (Luke 4:9–12). Jesus, however, was able to reject each suggestion, each
seduction, thanks to his perfect attachment to God; he mastered the beast, and
so kept himself from any malady. By overcoming the three principal passions,
Jesus also vanquished each passion that derives from them. He alone is the true
overcomer, the one in perfect health, and in our baptism we become
beneficiaries of his triumphs. Each of our victories over the passions is none
other than a participation in the victory of Christ who fights besides us, with
us, in us, by his Spirit. This is what it means to be a beneficiary of Christ’s
victories, and without him we are already, subtly, sick with pride. In Christ,
with him in us, we can have good spiritual health.
The most important of all
As they examined the three major
passions, the Fathers concluded, in the light of the Bible, that avarice is the
most important of the three. They reached this conclusion on the basis of the
verse of Paul’s that says, “The root of
all evils[1]
is the love of money” (1 Tim 6:10). This verse helps us understand this
saying of Jesus: “No one can serve two
masters; either he will hate one and love the other or else be attached to this
and despise that. You cannot serve God and Mammon (which is to say, money)”
(Matt 6:24). In speaking like this, Jesus presents us with the primordial
choice; to prefer God over Mammon is to resist all the maladies.
[1] “All evils” or “all kinds of evil,” according to the Greek.
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About
remedies
The remedies are very
various, firstly because the maladies are so numerous, but also because, for
the same malady, the remedies vary as a function of how advanced it is; and
again, because each malady is linked to the others in multiple combinations.
The anger of a greedy person is not the anger of the avaricious or proud person
. . . Each sort of anger has its own remedy, so again there is the question of
discernment.
That said, there are
some remedies that it is good to know as being of value for a great number of
maladies. For example, all the maladies that affect the desire have temperance
as a remedy; all those affecting the passion[1]
will be remediated by courage; and those which affect the reason are treated with
prudence.
Among the remedies
which treat a range of maladies, there are two which are valuable in all cases,
and we have already mentioned these; they are love and humility. With these two
remedies everything can be healed, though we must not forget that love itself
can be diseased should we at any time propose to do without God. When it comes
to humility, it has the peculiarity of needing an infinity of time and care if
we are to know how, not to acquire, but to welcome it, since it is a gift. Humility
is a little like a transplant, and not any transplant — it is a new heart! For
this remedy, there is nothing you can do of yourself except put yourself
entirely in the hands of him who says he is lowly of heart and who calls out to
us, “Come to me, all you who are weary .
. . because I am meek and lowly of heart”(Matt 11:28–29).
All the remedies are
given by God, who gives to those who ask, and at times even to those who don’t,
great as his love is. Ask all the same, Jesus counsels, but ask simply, without
repetition, “because your Father knows
what you need before ever you ask” (Matt 6:8).
God gives and also
personally regulates the dosage according to each one’s needs. To take a remedy
in excess is also a malady! “Your Father
knows what you have need of,” also means that he knows the correct dose.
The whole of the Torah
is a veritable pharmacy where an impressive array of remedies is to be found.
Each article of the Law can perform the office of a cure. We said a little
about that in the first chapter so we won’t go back there; instead I would like
to point out the way this is present in the Sermon on the Mount. The sermon is
often received as though it were a new legal code, thereby forgetting its
therapeutic dimension. A few remarks on this subject . . .
The Sermon on the Mount
is found in Matthew’s gospel at an extremely significant point, right at the
outset of Jesus’ ministry; exactly in fact at the moment when he is about to
acquire extraordinary fame as a healer. The end of chapter 4 of Matthew insists
on this point (4:23–25); next, immediately after the sermon, chapter 8
describes in detail an imposing sequence of healings: that of a leper (8:1–4),
the centurion’s servant (8:5–13), Peter’s mother-in-law, and then, so as not to
tire the reader, Matthew gives us a sort of et cetera, saying that “he healed all the sick.” Have you ever
seen a doctor who “healed all the sick”?
This is the context in
which we find the Sermon on the Mount and so we are invited to understand it as
issuing from the mouth of a healer. It was a physician the crowds followed up
to the mountain; it is to him they entrusted their sick, and to him that they
listened.
I will leave you to
read over the sermon yourself; you will see that it contains a wealth of advice
of a healing nature which will help both in diagnosis and as a prescription
with its expert recommendations. To what is your brother’s sin compared? To a
speck of dust in the eye. This is the language of the hospital not the tribunal.
As for the beam, this is hyperbole to say that emergency services and intensive
care are required! There is one remedy, both curative and preventative: “Don’t judge!” (Matt 7:1)
As a good healer, Jesus
knows exactly what remedy suits each case. We might note the account of the
rich young man. He is sick, a troubled person who knows himself to be sick, but
doesn’t know what his trouble is. He had tried all the remedies of the Torah
but without success, which is why he says to Jesus, “What must I do to have real life?” In reply, Jesus first of all
checks that the man has been following the prescriptions of the Law, then he
gives the only medication suitable for the problem he discerns. The man’s
sickness is avarice; the medication is a sort of emetic; “Go, sell all that you have, give it to the poor, and then come and
follow me” (Matt 19:21). If these words of Jesus were somehow a law, they
would apply to everyone, but Jesus did not say this to all his disciples, only
to those in whom he discerned avarice. This is a medication given with love, as
Mark notes (“looking on him, he loved him”
10:21); and a medication which works with the violence of love. However, the
young man was unable to discern the love; all he saw was the violence of the
purgative. He went away “very sad,”Matthew concludes (19:22). Avarice went
to seek its neighbor, sadness, to take up residence in the man’s home.
God also provides us
with medicine through the events of life. We spoke above of the things that can
help us discern, but we must realize too, that events can also at times work as
remedies. It’s precious to remember this when it comes to events that are
painful and full of sorrow for us. They sting like alcohol on a wound; they are
painful, but after a while, short or long, we can see the way events produced a
healing effect. For the avaricious person, every loss of money is experienced
as a catastrophe, when really there is matter in it to bring healing.
[1] As above, ardeur, the inner fire, the motivational force.