Overview of Spiritual Warfare - Saint John Cassian the Roman — Part 7

FIGHTING WITH THE SPIRIT OF SADNESS

In the fifth battle we must avoid the sting of all-consuming sorrow. If it gains the ability to take possession of our heart, it makes it impossible to contemplate God. Having cast down the soul from the height of holy disposition, it weakens it to the end and suffocates it, not allowing it to pray with the usual liveliness of heart, nor to resort to the reading of holy books as a spiritual tool and medicine, nor to be calm and meek with its brothers, while it makes it impatient and murmuring towards obligatory acts of obedience. Having deprived it of all sound judgment and clouding its heart, it makes it frantic and intoxicated, and it crushes and strangles it with a fatal despair.

Therefore, if we wish to strive lawfully in the feats of spiritual warfare, we are obliged to treat this disease with equal care. As the moth eats away clothing, and the worm eats away wood, so sorrow eats away the heart of man (Prov. 25:21): so clearly and definitely does the Spirit of God express the power of a dangerous and destructive passion. Just as clothing eaten by moths is no longer of any value, nor is it fit for honorable use, and just as wood eaten by worms is no longer fit for the construction or decoration of any building, even a mediocre one, but deserves to be set aside for burning by fire, so too is the soul devoured by the bites of all-destroying sorrow no longer fit for the high priestly garment, or the myrrh of the Holy Spirit, which descends from heaven first upon Aaron's beard, and then upon his garments, as it is said in the prophecy of Saint David: Like the precious oil upon the head, which descends upon the beard, Aaron's beard, which descends upon the skirts of his garments (Ps 132:2), nor for the building and adorning of the spiritual temple whose foundation was laid by Paul, the wise architect, saying: For you are the temple of God, and the Spirit of God dwells in you (1 Cor 2:16), for the construction of which the wood described by the bride in the Song of Songs is used, saying: The beams are We have cedars in our houses, our cypress beams (Song 1:17). These are the kinds of trees chosen for the temple of God: they are both fragrant and do not rot, so that they do not succumb to decay due to age or to rotting by worms.

Sometimes this disease is born from previous passions, from anger, lust, or greed, or when one loses hope in the mind of satisfying them by deeds or things according to their kinds; sometimes it is born without any visible reasons that could throw us into this ruin, or by the action of a cunning enemy, whereby such sorrow suddenly seizes us that we are not able to receive with usual kindness even the persons who are dearest and most necessary to us, and whatever they then say to us we will consider inappropriate and unnecessary, and we will not give them any kind answer, since all the pores of our heart are filled with the bitterness of gall.
This most clearly shows that the stings of sorrow do not always arise in us because of the guilt of others, but rather because of our own guilt, because we ourselves carry the causes of all sorrows within ourselves, or in the seeds of passions which, as soon as the rain of temptations falls on our soul, immediately spring up in their shoots and fruits. No one is ever forced into sin, even if the bad example of others incites to sin, but a person has a hidden structure of a certain sin in his heart. And, one should not believe that a person, for example, suddenly receives the passion of shameful lust without having previously possessed it, that is, when he looks at a beautiful woman and is overcome by her beauty. On the contrary, one should consider that he desired her because looking at her only brought to light the disease that was hidden inside. Therefore, we should primarily take care of purifying our passions and correcting our feelings and moods.
There is another type of sadness, and it is the worst, which does not put the intention of correcting life and purifying oneself from passions in the soul that has sinned, but the most destructive despair. It did not allow Cain to repent after killing his brother, nor Judas to seek means of correction after betrayal. On the contrary, it led him to suicide through the despair that it advised.
Sorrow can be useful to us only when we receive it, motivated either by repentance for sin, or by a burning desire for perfection, or by a vision of future bliss. The apostle Paul also speaks of it: For godly sorrow produces repentance leading to salvation, not to be repented of; but the sorrow of this world produces death (2 Cor. 7:10).
However, this sorrow, which produces repentance leading to undoubted salvation, is obedient, courageous, humble, gentle, agreeable, and patient, since it stems from love for God. From the desire for perfection, it tirelessly extends itself towards bodily self-mutilation and contrition of spirit, but at the same time somehow remains joyful and alive because of the hope of progress, as a result of which it retains all the pleasantness of cordiality and kindness, bearing within itself all the fruits of the Holy Spirit listed by the apostle Paul: Now the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, and temperance.(Gal 5:22). The sorrow of this world is extremely grumbling, intolerant, harsh, full of repulsive quarrelsomeness, fruitless sorrow and destructive despair. The one who is seized by it, it distracts and distracts from all interest and saving concern for himself. It not only cuts off the effect of prayer, but also devastates all the aforementioned spiritual fruits that godly sorrow usually makes possible.
Therefore, every sorrow that is not received for the sake of saving repentance, or out of zeal for perfection, or out of desire for future goods should be cut off as worldly and deadly and completely cast out, together with the spirit of fornication, avarice and anger.
We will be able to drive this most destructive passion out of ourselves if we constantly interest our soul with spiritual teachings, reviving it and raising it with hope and contemplation of future bliss. In this way we can overcome all kinds of sorrow: both that which arises from previous anger, and that which comes from the loss of income and the suffering of harm, and that which is born of insults inflicted on us, and that which arises from unreasonable mental disorder, and that which throws us into mortal despair. Always rejoicing in the contemplation of eternal future goods and remaining motionless in such a mood, we will not be downcast in spirit in unpleasant circumstances, nor exalted in pleasant ones, considering both the one and the other as insignificant and quickly passing.
(To calm the spirit of sorrow, read also in the 7th section the selection from St. Cassian – On the Struggle with Adversities and Temptations).

FIGHTING WITH THE SPIRIT OF LITTLENESS

Sixth, we have to fight against a passion that we can call despondency or sadness in the heart. It is related to sadness and is especially suffered by monks who perform asceticism in the deserts. It is the most unpleasant enemy of those who live in solitude. It disturbs every monk especially around the sixth hour (at twelve o'clock in our reckoning of time, or at noon) like a fever that attacks a sick soul at certain hours with its destructive effects. Some elders (Evagrius, Volume I, p. 631) call it the noon demon, which is spoken of in the 90th Psalm.

Having attacked the poor soul of a monk, despondency breeds horror at the place where he lives, disgust at his cell, and contempt for the brothers who live with him or at a short distance from him, representing them as lazy and completely unspiritual, while it makes him completely lazy and distracts him from the activities that usually interest him in his abode. It weakens his will to sit in his cell, prevents him from reading, makes him sigh and lament that he has lived so long without any progress and has not gained any spiritual fruit, and advises him to grieve because he remains in a deserted place, although he could govern others and be of benefit to many, and because he has not instructed anyone and has not given anyone spiritual birth by his teachings and teachings. Then it praises the monasteries that are far away from him, presenting the places where they are located as much more useful for spiritual progress, since they can help salvation more, while it presents the communion with the brothers there as the most pleasant and spiritually perfect. In contrast, the place where he is is presented as unbearable, reminding him that he does not receive any instruction from the brothers who reside there, while he obtains everything necessary for the maintenance of the body with enormous effort. Finally, it informs the hermit that he will not be able to save himself if he remains in that place, and that he will soon die if he does not leave his cell and immediately move to another place. After this, about the fifth or sixth hour, it brings his body to such weakness and to such starvation that it seems to him as if he were exhausted and worn out from a long journey and the most difficult labor, or as if he had endured a two- or three-day fast without taking any food. And, behold, he looks about him restlessly, sighing because none of the brothers come to him, often entering and leaving his cell, and, observing the sun, he has the impression that it is slowly moving towards the setting. In such unreasonable confusion of mind, he seems to be enveloped in darkness, and becomes incapable of any spiritual activity. He begins to think that he cannot be freed from such a temptation unless he visits one of the brothers, or unless he consoles himself with sleep. Then this destructive spirit begins to tell him that he should make necessary visits to the brothers, or to visit the sick who are near or far. He also instills in him the thought that he is obliged to find some relatives and visit them more often, and that it would be a great act of piety if he were to visit a pious woman, who has dedicated herself to God and is deprived of all help from her relatives, more often and bring her everything she needs, since her relatives do not care for her. He suggests to him that he should try harder in acts of piety of this kind, while sitting in a cell is fruitless and does not bring any progress.
Thus the poor soul, troubled, becomes entangled in the snares of the enemy until the monk, exhausted by the spirit of discouragement, either throws himself on his bed or leaves the confinement of his cell and seeks deliverance from temptation in a visit from one of the brothers. However, this visit, which he uses at present as a remedy, soon becomes in the hands of his adversary a means of causing even greater disarray. For the enemy will attack even more frequently and vigorously the one who, as he has learned in practice, turns his back on him as soon as the battle begins, and expects his salvation neither from victory nor from opposition, but from flight. For little by little, as he leaves the cell, he will begin to forget the main work of his vocation, which consists in striving for divine purity, which can only be achieved by daily residence in the peace and silence of the cell, and in the constant teaching of God. Thus, in the end, the soldier of Christ flees from his struggle, becomes entangled in worldly affairs, and is no longer pleasing to the King (2 Tim 2:4), whom he has promised to serve.
Blessed David very beautifully expressed all the harmful consequences of this disease in the following verse: My soul slumbers for discouragement (Ps 118:28). And indeed, at that time the soul, not the body, sleeps. For, wounded by the arrow of this destructive passion, the soul truly becomes drowsy for all efforts towards virtue and for the pursuit of its spiritual feelings.
Accordingly, the true soldier of Christ, who wishes to lawfully perform the feat in the struggle for perfection, should take care to drive this disease out of the hiding place of his soul. He should also boldly arm himself with opposition against this completely inappropriate spirit of discouragement, so that he may not fall from the wounding with the arrow of sleep, nor, like a fugitive, step out of the confinement of his cell, even under the justified pretext of piety.
For, whoever it begins to overcome from any side, discouragement leaves him to dwell in his cell without any success, making him lazy and careless, drives him out and makes him a vagabond and lazy for every good work, forcing him to constantly visit the cells of the brothers and monasteries, and to think of nothing else except where and under what pretext he will find an opportunity to eat his next meal. For the mind of the lazy one thinks of nothing else but food and his stomach. Meeting somewhere a friend in some man or woman, who is languishing in the same cold, he becomes involved in their works and needs. Little by little, having caught himself in such occupations that are harmful to his soul, and as if wrapped in the embrace of a serpent, he will never be able to separate himself from them, nor turn to the abandoned works of his former calling.
The spirit of discouragement in us, first of all, causes laziness, distracts us from action and teaches idleness. Therefore, the main action against it is not to give in and to sit behind the toil of one's hands. In this regard, we can accept as a medical prescription against discouragement what the Apostle Paul wrote to the Thessalonians about toil:But we beseech you, brethren, to be diligent in living quietly, and in minding your own business, and in working with your own hands (1 Thessalonians 4:10-11). He says: live quietly, that is, dwell in silence in your cells, lest you lose your inner peace from various stories, from which one who wanders about idle, cannot be saved, and begin to cause unrest to others. He then says: mind your own business, that is, do not, carried away by curiosity, worry about learning about the works of the world and examining the behavior of other brothers, lest instead of caring about your own correction and zeal for acquiring virtue, you get used to spending your time in judging and slandering your brothers. And, he also says: work with your own hands, that is, sitting in your cell, engage in manual labor. With this he cut off the very possibility of what he had previously rejected. He who loves to sit at work has no time to wander here and there, to investigate the works of others, to interfere in them and judge them. In the second epistle to the same Thessalonians he adds to this: Now I command you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you withdraw from every brother who walks disorderly and not according to the tradition which he received from us (2 Thess 2:6). Here he no longer begs, but commands, and not in simple words, but in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. He thereby gives us to understand that this command is obligatory. From the further words it is clear that it is a commandment about labor. He who avoids it should not be received into the Christian community. Accordingly, he commands us to distance ourselves from those who do not want to labor. We should cut them off as limbs that have been injured by corrupt laziness, so that the disease of inactivity, like a deadly infection, does not spread to the healthy limbs of the body. And, in what has been said there is already a strong incentive to love work. However, he strengthens it even more by offering himself as an example for them to follow (2 Thessalonians 2:7). He says: While we were with you, we did not eat bread for nothing.(2 Thessalonians 2:8), although the Lord also commands that those who preach the Gospel should live from the Gospel (1 Corinthians 9:14). If even the one who preached the Gospel and performed such a high spiritual work did not receive food for free, what shall we say in justification of our laziness, who are not commanded to preach the word and who have no other concern than the care of our own souls? With what hope do we dare to eat bread for free in laziness, which the apostle Paul, charged with the care of preaching the Gospel, did not allow himself to eat without the labor of his own hands? Moreover, so that his own example would not appear to be the only one, and so that it would not be proposed as a model for imitation by all, the apostle states that all who were with him also acted in this way. Namely, Silas and Timothy, who wrote this with him, were engaged in the same labors. Lest anyone think of distancing himself from following his example by representing that they all worked in silence, without intending to set an example that would oblige us to work, he says that, having the power not to work, they worked to make themselves an example to them: That you may imitate us (2 Thess 2:9). He seems to say: "If you have forgotten the sensible teaching that often enters your ears, at least keep in mind our examples that were presented to your eyes." Finally, after so many persuasions, the Apostle Paul no longer uses the advice of a teacher or a physician in relation to them, but the authority of the apostolic authority, saying: If anyone will not work, let him not eat (2 Thess 2:10)! This is a judgment against possible and foreseeable ones who despise these commandments, pronounced from the seat of the apostolic judgment.
And, in the Epistle to the Ephesians, the Apostle Paul wrote about the same effort, saying: Let the thief steal no more, but rather let him labor, working with his hands what is good, that he may have to give to him who has need (Eph 4:28). And, in the Acts of the Apostles, we find that he not only learned, but also worked. Having arrived in Corinth, he did not wish to remain anywhere else except with Aquila and Priscilla, who were masters of the trade in which he was usually interested, with the obvious intention of working together with them (Acts 18:1-3). Moreover, when, sailing to Jerusalem, he stopped at Miletus, he sent to Ephesus to summon the elders of the church at Ephesus. Giving them instructions on how to govern the church of God in his absence, he said that he had not asked them for money or clothing. On the contrary, his own hands served his needs and the needs of those who were with him. And he did this to show that one should strive in this way, helping those who have nothing and remembering the commandment of the Lord himself, namely that it is more blessed to give than to receive.(Acts 20:33-35). By giving an example of love for work, he also teaches that it is better to help the needy with what is acquired by sweat than with what has come into our hands in some other way. The monk who acts in this way will be adorned with a double virtue: by renouncing all things he will acquire the perfect poverty of Christ, and by his labor and disposition he will show the generosity of the rich, honoring God with his righteous labor, and offering him as a sacrifice the fruits of his righteousness.
The Egyptian fathers in no way allow monks, especially the young, to be idle. On the contrary, by their zeal for work they measure the state of the heart and the speed of progress in suffering and humility. They do not receive anything from food for their own use, but from their labors they feed the brothers who come and strangers, and send them to the places of Libya that are poor due to infertility and hunger. Even in the cities they deliver large quantities of food of every kind to those who suffer in filthy dungeons, believing that by such a sacrifice they are offering a pleasing sacrifice to the Lord from the fruits of their hands. On this subject the ancient Egyptian fathers have coined a saying: "A monk who works is tempted by one demon, but he who dwells in idleness is attacked by countless multitudes."
When I began to live in the desert, I told Father Moses (Livy, to whom the 1st and 2nd Books of Conversations belong) that yesterday I had been completely distracted by the impulse of despondency and that I had only been freed from it when I went to Father Paul. "No, you have not been freed from it," he told me, "but you have surrendered and submitted to it. For it will attack you even more strongly as a coward and a fugitive, seeing that in the first fight you allowed yourself to be defeated and that you immediately fled from the battlefield. Therefore, you should resolve to engage the enemy a second time and repel his fiery attacks, defeating him by suffering and resistance, and not by leaving your cell or falling asleep.'' Thus, experience has shown that one should not flee from attacks of despondency by avoiding combat with it, but rather that one should defeat it by courageously opposing it.