The Four Kinds of Monks

When I blogged about Benedict, Rule ch. 1, I had forgotten that John Cassian (subject of my MA dissertation!) had also discussed the different kinds of monks (Greg Peters, The Story of Monasticism has reminded me). As you will recall, Benedict lists the four kinds of monks as coenobites, anchorites/hermits, sarabaites, and gyrovagues. He gets this from the Rule of the Master, and the Master (not a Timelord) gets it from Cassian about a century before.

Here’s John Cassian, Conferences 18.4, in the old Victorian translation:

Wherefore you should first hear how or whence the system and beginning of our order took its rise. For only then can a man at all effectually be trained in any art he may wish, and be urged on to practise it diligently, when he has learnt the glory of its authors and founders. There are three kinds of monks in Egypt, of which two are admirable, the third is a poor sort of thing and by all means to be avoided. The first is that of the Cœnobites, who live together in a congregation and are governed by the direction of a single Elder: and of this kind there is the largest number of monks dwelling throughout the whole of Egypt. The second is that of the anchorites, who were first trained in the Cœnobium and then being made perfect in practical life chose the recesses of the desert: and in this order we also hope to gain a place. The third is the reprehensible one of the Sarabaites. And of these we will discourse more fully one by one in order. Of these three orders then you ought, as we said, first to know about the founders. For at once from this there may arise either a hatred for the order which is to be avoided, or a longing for that which is to be followed, because each way is sure to carry the man who follows it, to that end which its author and discoverer has reached.

Cassian (in the guise of Abba ) goes on to discuss these three types of monk in turn. Coenobites are obvious, it seems to me, as are anchorites/hermits. Sarabaites are a bit harder to pin down. They are basically ‘monks so-called’ when you consider Cassian’s description in Conf. 18.7. They settle where they please and do what they please — so long as it is loud and clear to everyone that they are monks. That is, they are vainglorious about their monastic profession but fail to live by the monastic way in actual fact.

If I remember correctly, besides real references to Egypt, Cassian has in his sights (as argued in Richard J. Goodrich, Contextualizing Cassian) those Gallo-Roman and Italian aristocrats who retire to their villas to lead the contemplative life, but are still served by their slaves and hang out with their aristocratic friends to have deep conversations. As monasticism becomes more regularised in Gaul, aristocratic monks and nuns prove a problem because they resist the spiritual headship of their abbots and abbesses, especially if they or their families had been donors to the monasteries before making solemn profession. (This is a recollection of mine from Gregory of Tours, History of the Franks.)

Funny how these things go.

Anyway, what of Benedict’s gyrovagues? It should be clear from the above that since Benedict and the Master are using Cassian as a source, they do not have the Irish in mind for any of this, since Cassian pre-dates both Palladius and Patrick, even if early to mid-sixth-century Italy was aware of Ireland and wandering Irish monks (which I sincerely doubt; we overplay the importance of the Irish on the continent before Columbanus and even then overplay Columbanus’ importance).

Cassian doesn’t mention gyrovagues. He and Germanus, in fact, look suspiciously like gyrovagues. He does give us a fourth kind of monk (18.8), but these are false anchorites — monks who joined a coenobium but were too proud and hardheaded and hardhearted to submit to the community and the abbot, so they left on the pretence of needing to become hermits. But their hearts are not truly those of solitaries.

Elsewhere, Cassian warns against seeking the solitary life because you don’t get along with people. He points out that you will bring along your own dark heart when you go. If your great demon is anger, you cannot think you’ve progressed in virtue by not being angry when there is no one to anger you. You must overcome such passions only by living amongst others.

Benedict’s gyrovagues come from The Rule of the Master. As summarised by Peters, the Master says of gyrovagues:

They take advantage of others’ hospitality by eating sumptuous meals and abusing charity, acting as if they are faithful monks whose journey has been hard and are therefore worthy of gracious hospitality. They feign humility and essentially act as thieves, robbing the hosts to satiate their gluttonous habits. (p. 62)

If Irish exile/pilgrim-monks had made their way to Italy, I admit the possibility of them being the Master’s target. There is probably also a local kind of abuse going on here, though. Over the fifth and sixth centuries, monasticism became a regularised feature of life in the western Mediterranean. Why not become a wandering ‘monk’ and enjoy the hospitality of the various monasteries rather than settle down and live the hard life of obedience to a rule?

Obedience to a rule, to an abbot, or to a spiritual father (‘abba’) is a common feature of early eastern and western monasticism. The gyrovagues and Sarabaites lack this. I find it unsurprising, then, that Cassian, the Master, and Benedict reject these monks.


John Cassian in the Philokalia: ‘On the Holy Fathers of Sketis’ – scopos and telos

StJohnCassian_vice4Allow me to begin with my ecclesiastical historian’s hat on. The second selection from John Cassian in The Philokalia (the first having been about the 8 thoughts, taken from Books 5-8 of The Institutes) is taken from Cassian’s second work, the much longer Conferences or CollationesThe Conferences purport to be the monastic elder’s encounters and conversations from the approximately ten years he and his companion Germanus spent amongst the Desert Fathers of Egypt, adapted for the situation in Gaul and possibly falsely recalled due to the faults of human memory (which he admits). Germanus is the usual interlocutor with Cassian sitting and listening in silence. An argument was made somewhere that here we find the full depth of Cassian’s spiritual theology. Here we certainly meet some his more powerful concepts, and the influence of Evagrius of Pontus, quite palpable in his discussion of the eight thoughts in The Institutes, continues. We’ll get to that in a moment. The Conferences are available online, as well as in an excellent translation with helpful notes by Boniface Ramsey. Ramsey also translated The Institutes.

The first Conference is where Sts Nikodimos of the Holy Mountain and Makarios of Corinth gathered the opening material for ‘On the Holy Fathers of Sketis and on Discrimination’. The discussion is created of various excerpts from Conference 1, seamlessly woven together, ending with the paragraph on p. 98 of the English, ‘When the old man saw us marvelling at this…’ In Cassian’s original, the paragraph is used as a way of ending the conference with Abba Moses that day, whereas in its reworked Greek version, it becomes the segue into a discussion of discernment. The rest of ‘On the Holy Fathers of Sketis’ is a discussion of discernment/discretion taken from Conference 2. Both Conference 1 and 2 are with the same abba, Moses. I do not know if we are to assume that he is the same Abba Moses in the Sayings of the Desert Fathers or not. Throughout both Conferences we encounter an array of biblical verses, examples of biblical persons, and examples from the history of Christian asceticism.

Abba Moses begins the discussion, ‘after much entreaty on our part’, with a question. Every aspect of human endeavour has an immediate purpose and end goal. A farmer clears land of thorns and rocks — an immediate purpose — with the ultimate goal of enjoying the produce of the field. He queries:

Tell me, what was your purpose and what goal did you set before yourselves in doing all this [ascetic labour]?

We replied: ‘We did it for the kingdom of heaven.’

In response Abba Moses said: ‘As for the goal, you have answered well; but what is the purpose which we set before us and which we pursue unwaveringly so as to reach the kingdom of heaven? This you have not told me.’

… we confessed that we did not know … (Palmer, Sherrard, Ward trans., p. 95)

In the Latin, Cassian actually uses the Greek scopos and telosScopos is glossed as destinatio (which is admissible in this discussion in its English descendant); telos is finis (or end). Clearing the field is the farmer’s scopos, enjoying its fruits is his telos. The scopos, or finis, of the ascetic life is the kingdom of heaven — regnum caelorum. In their English translation of the Greek Philokalia, Palmer, et al., give us purpose for scopos and goal for telos.

Abba Moses says:

The goal [telos] of our profession, as we have said, is the kingdom of God. Its immediate purpose [scopos], however, is purity of heart, for without this we cannot reach our goal. We should therefore always have this purpose in mind; and, should it ever happen that for a short time our heart turns aside from the direct path, we must bring it back again at once, guiding our lives with reference to our purpose as if it were a carpenter’s rule. (p. 95 in English)

Here we have the original ‘purpose-driven life’! We are called by Cassian (via Abba Moses) to seek purity of heart in all we do. That is the point. The point is not fasting, reading sacred scripture, meditating, praying, studying theology, helping the poor. The point is purity of heart. Abba Moses continues:

It is for the love of our neighbour that we scorn wealth, lest by fighting over it and stimulating our disposition to anger, we fall away from love. (p. 95)

For what we gain by fasting is not so great as the damage done by anger; nor is the profit from reading as great as the harm done when we scorn or grieve a brother. (p. 96)

Abba Moses then says that love of God and of human beings, not ascetic labour, is the purpose. This is the great recurring theme of Christian spirituality, as I have discussed here in the past in relation to St Augustine and the Cistercians. From here, Abba Moses discusses how to achieve purity of heart; as Cassian and Germanus discuss the ascetic life with other Egyptian abbas, they learn more and more; there is a rising up towards this purity, found in the pure prayer of Conference 10 which leads into a discussion of perfection itself in Conference 11.

In The Philokalia, Abba Moses gives some attention to the thoughts (those Evagrian logismoi) before moving into his discussion of discernment.

You can see, I think, why The Conferences make me aware of my inadequacies! I still have no grand answers for questions of how a modern layperson, married, working full-time in a demanding job, is to pursue purity of heart. I guess thinking about it is a start. Praying daily as we do at The Witness Cloud is, undoubtedly, central. Abba Moses counsels Cassian and Germanus to keep their eyes fixed on the knowable actions of God in creation, Scripture, the deeds of the saints.

I guess being an ecclesiastical historian might actually give me some advantage, then?

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. -Matthew 5:8

Gluttony: Alive and Well

A friend of mine posted a link on facebook to this article from The Atlantic: “The Moral Crusade Against Foodies.” It’s an interesting article that delves into the world of food writing and the gastronomes/epicureans/gourmets/foodies who write about food.

It is a world that fixates on food, the eating thereof, the production thereof, and so forth. Usually in quantity, often unusual. Ultimately, the various problems concerning this lifestyle and mindset that arise in the article are boiled down to coming from the singlemindedness of the foodie.

This is, at a certain level, what gluttony is (the author of the article points this out).

Gluttony is when we focus too much on the appetitive aspect of our person. It is when we succumb to concupiscence concerning the sensual pleasures of food and drink to an unhealthy degree. It is the dethroning of God by Food.

Of course, John Cassian (our old friend) goes farther (he would). John Cassian tells us that gluttony is not merely eating too much or fixating on food but is basically any misuse of food as we seek to live a disciplined life. Primarily he is concerned with monks who eat at the wrong time — ie. too early — or monks who eat the wrong food — ie. not part of the Rule — or monks who eat too much — the common use of the term gluttony.

Given that John Cassian also teaches us that we shouldn’t eat enough to be satisfied, I don’t think we should simply apply all of his teachings on gluttony to our lives. Nevertheless, I think a few thoughts are worth contemplating in this regard.

First, eating at the wrong time. Or even eating too fast, if you ask me. Our bodies are a gift from God, and our bodily state can affect our spiritual state since we are psychosomatic unities.* Eating too fast means we don’t digest properly and sometimes our body doesn’t even know it’s full. It can lead to accidental overeating. Eating at the wrong time is also interesting because we often eat just whenever we (I) feel a little bit hungry — and eat whatever we can get our hands on first, be it a Mars bar, a bag of crisps, or something else unhealthy. Why not hold out against hunger until you’re home and can eat something healthier and cheaper?

Second, eating the wrong food. I eat the wrong food a lot. Soda pop, Mars bars, other chocolate bars, chocolate flapjacks, crisps, chips, other deep-fried items, greasy pizza, salty popcorn, on it goes. Now, I’m not entirely sold out to asceticism. I think we can treat ourselves to tasty, unhealthy food — but only in moderation. A can of pop or a chocolate bar every day, or even every other day, is not treating your body as it deserves. It is surrendering endurance to the easy, tasty, delectable way out. It is not discipline but laxity, surrendering to the appetitive part of your soul. It is, simply put, gluttony.

Eating too much, the third, is standard gluttony. But it can call out to any of us, at an Indian buffet, or a really cheap fish & chip shop, or the deal at the cinema with the gigantic popcorn, or what have you. This is healthy eating 101, though. We don’t need fifth-century monks telling us we shouldn’t overeat. Overeating when combined with unhealthy eating can lead to obesity and ultimately kill you.

But before that, it can kill your soul.

So let’s be more disciplined with our food intake as to when, what, and how much! Maybe our prayer lives and devotional times will pick up. Maybe we’ll hate it. But I’m pretty sure it will be good for us.

*Or noetopsychosomatic?

The Maleficent Spirit: An Example of Patristic Interconnectedness

In Conference 8.17.1, Abba Serenus says to Cassian and Germanus, “Scripture testifies that two angels cling to each of us, a good one and a wicked one.”*  We all know about the doctrine of the good angel, for that is the popular “Guardian Angel,” with scriptural evidence at Mt 18:10, Ps 34:7, Acts 12:15 as cited by Cassian.

But what of this wicked angel?  The scriptural basis for belief in a maleficent spirit that follows someone his or her entire life is slim, indeed.  Cassian gives the weak arguments of Job and Judas, both of whom had Satan’s attentions.  Their examples are to encourage the monk, the former to embolden, the latter to warn.

However, although uncited by Cassian regarding the maleficent spirit, the Shepherd of Hermas — one of those popular books that did not quite make the cut for the New Testament, and the only non-canonical book quoted by Cassian alongside Scripture — makes mention of such a being at 2.6.2:

“Now listen,” he said, “concerning faith.  There are two messengers (angeloi) with a man, one of righteousness and one of wickedness.”

Cassian is a student not only of Hermas but also of Origen, largely via Evagrius Ponticus.  While Evagrius denies that a man has a particular demon which follows him all his life (Prak. 59), Cassian stands with Origen’s teaching at De Principatibus 3.2.4 and Homilies on Luke 3.5.3-5.

The question of whether Cassian or Evagrius deviates from the Egyptian tradition on this point is unanswerable.  Indeed, both may represent separate streams within that tradition.  That Cassian in turning from his master stays within the broad river of Egyptian monasticism is found in Palladius: The Lausiac History 19.3:

In the end this abandoned man [Abba Moses the Robber], conscience-stricken as a result of one of his adventures, gave himself up to a monastery and to such practising of asceticism that he brought publicly to the knowledge of Christ even his accomplice in crime from his youth, the demon who had sinned with him. (1918 trans. online)

Thus we see Cassian to be connected with Hermas, Origen, and Palladius/Abba Moses — the latter’s writing being something that would have brought Egyptian teaching to Constantinople.  The interconnection runs beyond the Desert, however, to Nyssa.

St. Gregory of Nyssa, in The Life Of Moses, expounds this doctrine as well.  At 2.45, he writes:

There is a doctrine (which derives its trustworthiness from the tradition of the fathers) which says that after our nature fell into sin God did not disregard our fall and withhold his providence.  No, on the one hand, he appointed an angel with an incorporeal nature to help in the life of each person and, on the other hand, he also appointed the corruptor who, by an evil and maleficent demon, afflicts the life of man and contrives against our nature.  (Trans. Abraham J. Malherbe and Everett Ferguson)

So we see that the patristic world was interconnected through this teaching of the maleficent spirit.  The root connection that this doctrine rests upon is the teaching that we are always beset by temptations.  Yes, God has appointed a “Guardian Angel” to be with us; yet we are also followed by a trail of maleficent spirits, spirits of wickedness.  Through these, too, shall we be perfected.

Through this underlying teaching, we see that Evagrius is still connected to the other Fathers in the foundations.  His denial of a single, lifelong maleficent spirit stems from his belief that as a person progresses in virtue and prayer, so stronger demons and tempters will have to be set against him (see On Thoughts 34).

Nevertheless, none of these writers deny the presence of daimones, and all of them believe that life is a struggle between virtue and vice, between fleshly lusts and spiritual glories.  We are all tempted and are never far from our tempter, be he Wormwood, Screwtape or Satan himself.

*Unless otherwise noted, all translations in this post are mine.