Category: books

Gethsemane, Watch and Pray

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.

Our brothers, the Desert Fathers

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.

Evening, morning and noon

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?”

Asceticism: A Path of Freedom

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.

Father, sanctify 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.

On a spiritual Pathway

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.

Bible Meditation

“Blessed is he who meditates in the law of the Lord.” What, though, is meditation? Daniel firstly distinguishes between different ways of reading the Bible: firstly, there is the issue of simply understanding a passage lexically, culturally etc., that is, the exegetical task; secondly, there is the immediate application of a passage to our lives, which is the way the text is usually used in preaching; but it’s the third way of reading which more fully brings us into contact with the Word of God, meditation, which itself is discussed under two headings — meditative, ie slow, reading, making full use of all available tools, such as Daniel gives us in his books, but also, and more importantly, there is the sowing of the word into the heart which quietly, unconsciously even, turns the word over, perhaps for many years before surfacing in renewed understandings. “Blessed is he who meditates in the law of the Lord day and night” — consciously and unconsciously.

The second chapter looks at meditation as discussed in the parable of the sower. Contrasted with the superficial, fruitless responses to the word is Mary, who kept these words and went over them in her heart. Time is needed to take the word in, for it to be buried deep in the heart, there to take root. Daniel likes at times to talk about synergy, the divine/human synergy; here he points out that it is the word, the Gospel that bears fruit (Col 1.6), so that while our input is necessary, it is nothing without God, who is its source.

We then turn to look at the passage in Acts concerning the Ethiopian eunuch, touching on two main themes, firstly, the Ethiopian himself. Through the scriptures he is brought into a condition which Daniel says is “contemplative” of joy, exemplifying the fruit bearing of the previous chapter. Joy in the Ethiopian is the fruit of contemplation/meditation. The other issue Daniel raises is that meditation is of the Trinity, that the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are present; here he suggests themes he looks at fully in On the banks of Jordan.

The final chapter looks at the role of the Holy Spirit in enabling us to discern the meaning of scripture, for example as He helped Jesus in the temptation rightly discern Satan’s use of the written word; and then as He brought to the remembrance of the disciples Jesus statement about “raising up” the temple in three days. As the rain and the snow come down from heaven and does not return without having watered . . . so is my word . . .

Spiritual maladies excerpts

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.

From Darkness to Light

From Darkness to Light has three chapters, each on the theme of the title. I will give a brief introduction and then a short excerpt.

Chapter 1 is Christ and the thief, and it is a profound meditation on 3 men dying together at Golgotha, Christ in the middle. We watch closely Jesus’ final hours and the impact they have on one of the men.

Here is a brigand who is converted at the hour of his death. This should cause us to reflect on the death of less respectable folk, even notorious pagans. Here is a man on his way to paradise when all the world would consign him to hell. Here is a man who dies sanctified by a word from Jesus . . . only Jesus cares, as a shepherd cares for each of his sheep, even the sheep that is lost. Blessed Jesus! . . . No-one other than the Spirit can bring us into the intimacy of the Father and the Son, because, in God, this intimacy of Father and Son is shared with the Holy Spirit. The Spirit alone can introduce us into the trinitarian intimacy . . . There is no pathway of conversion without the breath of the Holy Spirit . . . With his last prayer, Christ teaches the thief how to die and through this teaching accompanies him in death . . . Death has no power. The thief may freely offer his spirit to God in a supreme liberty which despoils death of its prize.

Chapter 2 concerns Psalm 88. Daniel treats the psalm literally as the words of a dying man in pain; great pain and great trust in God.

Many centuries before Christ, perhaps a thousand years, a man was dying, one Heman, who fulfilled the function of singer in the temple in Jerusalem . . . All his life he had stood before God in the sanctuary and had grown in his faith and love for God to such a degree that we can speak of a real intimacy. . . I bless God for this psalm; the prayer is a real treasure, a miracle of faith which I receive with wonderment and thankfulness. It creates in us a thirst for a similar closeness with God; it awakens in us a deep compassion for the dying; it prepares us for the day of our own death . . . in his grace God can strengthen our faith by his Holy Spirit through these words . . . To whom should we turn to teach us to pray this psalm in its profound truth and to live it out fully . . . I can’t see anyone other than Christ himself. Like every good Israelite, Jesus prayed all the psalms including this one. He would have prayed it many times in his life, following the practice of the Jewish liturgy. He appropriated it and was impregnated with it to the point that in his death he begins to resemble what is described here . . .  So, I marvel again and bless God still more for this prayer.

Chapter 3 is Christ and Mary Magdalene. Daniel notes in Mary a state of what he terms ‘obsession.’ She had seen Jesus hang naked on the cross, and after all she has suffered in what she saw, she is morbidly obsessed with Jesus’ body; 3 times she says ‘They have taken away [my Lord] and I don’t know where they have laid him.’ Jesus comes to dispel the darkness and give her a vocation, a calling into new life.

“Light be!” God said on the dawn of the world’s first morning, and light was. Mary enters the garden early in the morning on the first day of the week, in the dawning light. It is the hour when the Father, in silence, ponders afresh the newly created light, while the Holy Spirit hovers over the waters . . . She turns to see the Living One, then she turns again, as if in an internal dance, to unceasingly contemplate the Well-Beloved.

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Spiritual Maladies

This would be the best place to start looking at the contribution of the Greek Fathers. Translating more directly from the French would see the title as ‘Maladies of the spiritual life,’ where ‘maladies’ refers to a well-worked system of diagnosis in pastoral care. These have tended to become known, misleadingly, in the western world as the 7 deadly sins; that is not what they are — they are malaises which militate against spiritual life, malaises which stand in need of a physician, and God is that physician as Daniel shows in the opening character, referring particularly to Jesus as healing sin. Chapter 2 is a lengthy look at the passage in Genesis about Cain, a passage in which we see ‘A divine consultation’ as God speaks to Cain. I would say this was a foundational teaching about the sin which ‘crouches at the door’ and how God wants us to deal with it; how I wish I had encountered such teaching 20 years earlier than I did! This chapter exemplifies the God as Physician of chapter 1. The third chapter, ‘The Fathers’ Medicine,’ looks at the schema adopted by the Fathers and its use, with a focus on Jesus as the vanquisher of the passions.

I would regard this book as seminal. The resources it points to are neglected to our cost.

Because of its ‘seminal’ nature, a number of excerpts are posted here.

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