Saint John Cassian
(c.360-435 A.D.)
A founder of Eastern Monasticism in the West
The
Catholic Encyclopedia, s.v.
"John Cassian" The
Wikipedia, s.v. "John Cassian" Complete
Text of the "Conferences" "Institutes
of the Coenobia"
Conference X
Source: http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/npnf211.txt
Chapter VI.
Of the reasons why Jesus Christ appears to each one of us either in His humility
or in His glorified condition.
For according to the measure of its purity,
as I said in the former Conference, each mind is both raised and moulded in its
prayers if it forsakes the consideration of earthly and material things so far
as the condition of its purity may carry it forward, and enable it with the
inner eyes of the soul to see Jesus either still in His humility and in the
flesh, or glorified and coming in the glory of His Majesty: for those cannot see
Jesus coming in His Kingdom who are still kept back in a sort of state of Jewish
weakness, and cannot say with the Apostle: "And if we have known Christ
after the flesh, yet now we know Him so no more;" [2 Cor. v.
16.] but only those can look with purest eyes on His Godhead, who rise
with Him from low and earthly works and thoughts and go apart in the lofty
mountain of solitude which is free from the disturbance of all earthly thoughts
and troubles, and secure from the interference of all sins, and being exalted by
pure faith and the heights of virtue reveals the glory of His Face and the image
of His splendour to those who are able to look on Him with pure eyes of the
soul.
But Jesus is seen as well by those who live
in towns and villages and hamlets, i.e., who are occupied in practical affairs
and works, but not with the same brightness with which He appeared to those who
can go up with Him into the aforesaid mount of virtues, i.e., Peter, James, and
John. For so in solitude He appeared to Moses and spoke with Elias.
And as our Lord wished to establish this and
to leave us examples of perfect purity, although He Himself, the very fount of
inviolable sanctity, had no need of external help and the assistance of solitude
in order to secure it (for the fullness of purity could not be soiled by any
stain from crowds, nor could He be contaminated by intercourse with men, who
cleanses and sanctifies all things that are polluted)
Yet still He retired into the mountain alone
to pray, thus teaching us by the example of His retirement that if we too wish
to approach God with a pure and spotless affection of heart, we should also
retire from all the disturbance and confusion of crowds, so that while still
living in the body we may manage in some degree to adapt ourselves to some
likeness of that bliss which is promised hereafter to the saints, and that
"God may be" to us "all in all." [1 Cor. xv.
28.]
Chapter VII
What constitutes our end and perfect bliss.
For then will be perfectly fulfilled in our case that prayer of
our Saviour in which He prayed for His disciples to the Father saying "that
the love wherewith Thou lovedst Me may be in them and they in us;" and
again: "that they all may be one as Thou, Father, in Me and I in Thee, that
they also may be one in us," [John xvii. 26, 21.]
when that perfect love of God, wherewith "He first loved us" [1
John iv. 16.] has passed into the feelings of our heart as well, by the
fulfilment of this prayer of the Lord which we believe cannot possibly be
ineffectual. And this will come to pass when God shall be all our love, and
every desire and wish and effort, every thought of ours, and all our life and
words and breath, and that unity which already exists between the Father and the
Son, and the Son and the Father, has been shed abroad in our hearts and minds,
so that as He loves us with a pure and unfeigned and indissoluble love, so we
also may be joined to Him by a lasting and inseparable affection, since we are
so united to Him that whatever we breathe or think, or speak is God, since, as I
say, we attain to that end of which we spoke before, which the same Lord in His
prayer hopes may be fulfilled in us: "that they all may be one as we are
one, I in them and Thou in Me, that they also may be made perfect in one;"
and again: "Father, those whom Thou hast given Me, I will that where I am,
they may also be with Me." [John xvii. 22-24.]
This then ought to be the destination of the
solitary, this should be all his aim that it may be vouchsafed to him to possess
even in the body an image of future bliss, and that he may begin in this world
to have a foretaste of a sort of earnest of that celestial life and glory. This,
I say, is the end of all perfection, that the mind purged from all carnal
desires may daily be lifted towards spiritual things, until the whole life and
all the thoughts of the heart become one continuous prayer.
Chapter X
Of the method of continual prayer.
Wherefore in accordance with that system,
which you admirably compared to teaching children (who can only take in the
first lessons on the alphabet and recognize the shapes of the letters, and trace
out their characters with a steady hand if they have, by means of some copies
and shapes carefully impressed on wax, got accustomed to express their figures,
by constantly looking at them and imitating them daily),
We must give you also the form of this
spiritual contemplation, on which you may always fix your gaze with the utmost
steadiness, and both learn to consider it to your profit in unbroken
continuance, and also manage by the practice of it and by meditation to climb to
a still loftier insight.
This formula then shall be proposed to you of
this system, which you want, and of prayer, which every monk in his progress
towards continual recollection of God, is accustomed to ponder, ceaselessly
revolving it in his heart, having got rid of all kinds of other thoughts; for he
cannot possibly keep his hold over it unless he has freed himself from all
bodily cares and anxieties.
And as this was delivered to us by a few of
those who were left of the oldest fathers, so it is only divulged by us to a
very few and to those who are really keen. And so for keeping up continual
recollection of God this pious formula is to be ever set before you. "O
God, make speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me," [Ps.
lxix. 2]
For this verse has not unreasonably been
picked out from the whole of Scripture for this purpose. For it embraces all the
feelings which can be implanted in human nature, and can be fitly and
satisfactorily adapted to every condition, and all assaults. Since it contains
an invocation of God against every danger, it contains humble and pious
confession, it contains the watchfulness of anxiety and continual fear, it
contains the thought of one's own weakness, confidence in the answer, and the
assurance of a present and ever ready help. For one who is constantly calling on
his protector, is certain that He is always at hand. It contains the glow of
love and charity, it contains a view of the plots, and a dread of the enemies,
from which one, who sees himself day and night hemmed in by them, confesses that
he cannot be set free without the aid of his defender.
This verse is an impregnable wall for all who
are labouring under the attacks of demons, as well as impenetrable coat of mail
and a strong shield. It does not suffer those who are in a state of moroseness
and anxiety of mind, or depressed by sadness or all kinds of thoughts to despair
of saving remedies, as it shows that He, who is invoked, is ever looking on at
our struggles and is not far from His suppliants. It warns us whose lot is
spiritual success and delight of heart that we ought not to be at all elated or
puffed up by our happy condition, which it assures us cannot last without God as
our protector, while it implores Him not only always but even speedily to help
us. This verse, I say, will be found helpful and useful to every one of us in
whatever condition we may be. For one who always and in all matters wants to be
helped, shows that he needs the assistance of God not only in sorrowful or hard
matters but also equally in prosperous and happy ones, that he may be delivered
from the one and also made to continue in the other, as he knows that in both of
them human weakness is unable to endure without His assistance.
I am affected by the passion of gluttony. I
ask for food of which the desert knows nothing, and in the squalid desert there
are wafted to me odours of royal dainties and I find that even against my will I
am drawn to long for them. I must at once say: "O God, make speed to save
me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
I am incited to anticipate the hour fixed for
supper, or I am trying with great sorrow of heart to keep to the limits of the
right and regular meagre fare. I must cry out with groans: "O God, make
speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
Weakness of the stomach hinders me when
wanting severer fasts, on account of the assaults of the flesh, or dryness of
the belly and constipation frightens me. In order that effect may be given to my
wishes, or else that the fire of carnal lust may be quenched without the remedy
of a stricter fast, I must pray: "O God, make speed to save me: O Lord,
make haste to help me."
When I come to supper, at the bidding of the
proper hour I loathe taking food and am prevented from eating anything to
satisfy the requirements of nature: I must cry with a sigh: "O God, make
speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
When I want for the sake of steadfastness of
heart to apply myself to reading a headache interferes and stops me, and at the
third hour sleep glues my head to the sacred page, and I am forced either to
overstep or to anticipate the time assigned to rest; and finally an overpowering
desire to sleep forces me to cut short the canonical rule for service in the
Psalms: in the same way I must cry out: "O God, make speed to save me: O
Lord, make haste to help me."
Sleep is withdrawn from my eyes, and for many
nights I find myself wearied out with sleeplessness caused by the devil, and all
repose and rest by night is kept away from my eyelids; I must sigh and pray:
"O God, make speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
While I am still in the midst of a struggle
with sin suddenly an irritation of the flesh affects me and tries by a pleasant
sensation to draw me to consent while in my sleep. In order that a raging fire
from without may not burn up the fragrant blossoms of chastity, I must cry out:
"O God, make speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
I feel that the incentive to lust is removed,
and that the heat of passion has died away in my members: In order that this
good condition acquired, or rather that this grace of God may continue still
longer or forever with me, I must earnestly say: "O God, make speed to save
me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
I am disturbed by the pangs of anger,
covetousness, gloominess, and driven to disturb the peaceful state in which I
was, and which was dear to me: In order that I may not be carried away by raging
passion into the bitterness of gall, I must cry out with deep groans: "O
God, make speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
I am tried by being puffed up by boredom,
vainglory, and pride, and my mind with subtle thoughts flatters itself somewhat
on account of the coldness and carelessness of others: In order that this
dangerous suggestion of the enemy may not get the mastery over me, I must pray
with all contrition of heart: "O God, make speed to save me: O Lord, make
haste to help me."
I have gained the grace of humility and
simplicity, and by continually mortifying my spirit have got rid of the
swellings of pride: In order that the "foot of pride" may not again
"come against me," and "the hand of the sinner disturb me," [Ps. xxxv.12]
and that I may not be more seriously damaged by elation at my success, I must
cry with all my might, "O God, make speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to
help me."
I am on fire with innumerable and various
wanderings of soul and shiftiness of heart, and cannot collect my scattered
thoughts, nor can I even pour forth my prayer without interruption and images of
vain figures, and the recollection of conversations and actions, and I feel
myself tied down by such dryness and barrenness that I feel I cannot give birth
to any offspring in the shape of spiritual ideas: In order that it may be
vouchsafed to me to be set free from this wretched state of mind, from which I
cannot extricate myself by any number of sighs and groans, I must full surely
cry out: "O God, make speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help
me."
Again, I feel that by the visitation of the
Holy Spirit I have gained purpose of soul, steadfastness of thought, keenness of
heart, together with an ineffable joy and transport of mind, and in the
exuberance of spiritual feelings I have perceived by a sudden illumination from
the Lord an abounding revelation of most holy ideas which were formerly
altogether hidden from me: In order that it may be vouchsafed to me to linger
for a longer time in them I must often and anxiously exclaim: "O God, make
speed to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
Encompassed by nightly horrors of devils I am
agitated, and am disturbed by the appearances of unclean spirits, my very hope
of life and salvation is withdrawn by the horror of fear. Flying to the safe
refuge of this verse, I will cry out with all my might: "O God, make speed
to save me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
Again, when I have been restored by the
Lord's consolation, and, cheered by His coming, feel myself encompassed as if by
countless thousands of angels, so that all of a sudden I can venture to seek the
conflict and provoke a battle with those whom a while ago I dreaded worse than
death, and whose touch or even approach I felt with a shudder both of mind and
body: In order that the vigour of this courage may, by God's grace, continue in
me still longer, I must cry out with all my powers: "O God, make speed to
save me: O Lord, make haste to help me."
We must then ceaselessly and continuously
pour forth the prayer of this verse, in adversity that we may be delivered, in
prosperity that we may be preserved and not puffed up. Let the thought of this
verse, I tell you, be conned over in your breast without ceasing. Whatever work
you are doing, or office you are holding, or journey you are going, do not cease
to chant this. When you are going to bed, or eating, and in the last necessities
of nature, think on this. This thought in your heart maybe to you a saving
formula, and not only keep you unharmed by all attacks of devils, but also
purify you from all faults and earthly stains, and lead you to that invisible
and celestial contemplation, and carry you on to that ineffable glow of prayer,
of which so few have any experience. Let sleep come upon you still considering
this verse, till having been moulded by the constant use of it, you grow
accustomed to repeat it even in your sleep.
When you wake let it be the first thing to
come into your mind, let it anticipate all your waking thoughts, let it when you
rise from your bed send you down on your knees, and thence send you forth to all
your work and business, and let it follow you about all day long. This you
should think about, according to the Lawgiver's charge, "at home and
walking forth on a journey," [Deut. vi. 7] sleeping
and waking. This you should write on the threshold and door of your mouth, this
you should place on the walls of your house and in the recesses of your heart so
that when you fall on your knees in prayer this may be your chant as you kneel,
and when you rise up from it to go forth to all the necessary business of life
it may be your constant prayer as you stand.
Chapter XIV.
The answer how we can gain stability of heart or of thoughts.
Isaac: Although, in our former discussion on the character of prayer, enough
was, as I think, said on this subject, yet as you want it repeated to you again,
I will give you a brief instruction on steadfastness of heart.
There are three
things which make a shifting heart steadfast, watchings, meditation, and prayer,
diligence in which and constant attention will produce steadfast firmness of
mind. But this cannot be secured in any other way unless all cares and anxieties
of this present life have been first got rid of by indefatigable persistence in
work dedicated not to covetousness but to the sacred uses of the monastery, that
we may thus be able to fulfil the Apostle's command: "Pray without
ceasing." [1 Thess. v. 17]
For he prays too little, who is accustomed only to pray at
the times when he bends his knees. But he never prays, who even while on his
bended knees is distracted by all kinds of wanderings of heart. And therefore
what we would be found when at our prayers, that we ought to be before the time
of prayer. For at the time of its prayers the mind cannot help being affected by
its previous condition, and while it is praying, will be either transported to
things heavenly, or dragged down to earthly things by those thoughts in which it
had been lingering before prayer.
Thus far did Abbot Isaac carry on his Second
Conference on the character of Prayer to us astonished hearers; whose
instruction on the consideration of that verse quoted above (which he gave as a
sort of outline for beginners to hold) we greatly admired, and wished to follow
very closely, as we fancied that it would be a short and easy method; but we
have found it even harder to observe than that system of ours by which we used
formerly to wander here and there in varied meditations through the whole body
of the Scriptures without being tied by any chains of perseverance.
It is then
certain that no one is kept away from perfection of heart by not being able to
read, nor is rustic simplicity any hindrance to the possession of purity of
heart and mind, which lies close at hand for all, if only they will by constant
meditation on this verse keep the thoughts of the mind safe and sound towards
God.
Hidden Text Below
Chapter VIII.
A question on the training in perfection by which we can arrive at perpetual
recollection of God.
Germanus: The extent of our bewilderment at
our wondering awe at the former Conference, because of which we came back again,
increases still more. For in proportion as by the incitements of this teaching
we are fired with the desire of perfect bliss, so do we fall back into greater
despair, as we know not how to seek or obtain training for such lofty heights.
Wherefore we entreat that you will patiently
allow us (for it must perhaps be set forth and unfolded with a good deal of
talk) to explain what while sitting in the cell we had begun to revolve in a
lengthy meditation, although we know that your holiness is not at all troubled
by the infirmities of the weak, which even for this reason should be openly set
forth, that what is out of place in them may receive correction.
Our notion then is that the perfection of any
art or system of training must begin with some simple rudiments, and grow
accustomed first to somewhat easy and tender beginnings, so that being nourished
and trained little by little by a sort of reasonable milk, it may grow up and so
by degrees and step by step mount up from the lowest depths to the heights: and
when by these means it has entered on the plainer principles and so to speak
passed the gates of the entrance of the profession, it will consequently arrive
without difficulty at the inmost shrine and lofty heights of perfection. For how
could any boy manage to pronounce the simplest union of syllables unless he had
first carefully learnt the letters of the alphabet? Or how can any one learn to
read quickly, who is still unfit to connect together short and simple sentences?
But by what means will one who is ill instructed in the science of grammar
attain eloquence in rhetoric or the knowledge of philosophy?
Wherefore for this highest learning also, by
which we are taught even to cleave to God, I have no doubt that there are some
foundations of the system, which must first be firmly laid and afterwards the
towering heights of perfection may be placed and raised upon them.
And we have a slight idea that these are its
first principles; viz., that we should first learn by what meditations God may
be grasped and contemplated, and next that we should manage to keep a very firm
hold of this topic whatever it is which we do not doubt is the height of all
perfection.
And therefore we want you to show us some
material for this recollection, by which we may conceive and ever keep the idea
of God in the mind, so that by always keeping it before our eyes, when we find
that we have dropped away from Him, we may at once be able to recover ourselves
and return thither and may succeed in laying hold of it again without any delay
from wandering around the subject and searching for it.
For it happens that when we have wandered
away from our spiritual speculations and have come back to ourselves as if
waking from a deadly sleep, and, being thoroughly roused, look for the subject
matter, by which we may be able to revive that spiritual recollection which has
been destroyed, we are hindered by the delay of the actual search before we find
it, and are once more drawn aside from our endeavour, and before the spiritual
insight is brought about, the purpose of heart which had been conceived, has
disappeared.
And this trouble is certain to happen to us
for this reason because we do not keep something special firmly set before our
eyes like some principle to which the wandering thoughts may be recalled after
many digressions and varied excursions; and, if I may use the expression, after
long storms enter a quiet haven.
And so it comes to pass that as the mind is
constantly hindered by this want of knowledge and difficulty, and is always
tossed about vaguely, and as if intoxicated, among various matters, and cannot
even retain firm hold for any length of time of anything spiritual which has
occurred to it by chance rather than of set purpose: while, as it is always
receiving one thing after another, it does not notice either their beginning and
origin or even their end.
Chapter IX
The answer on the efficacy of understanding, which is gained by experience.
Isaac: Your minute and subtle inquiry
affords an indication of purity being very nearly reached. For no one would be
able even to make inquiries on these matters, I will not say to look within and
discriminate,--except one who had been urged to sound the depths of such
questions by careful and effectual diligence of mind, and watchful anxiety, and
one whom the constant aim after a well controlled life had taught by practical
experience to attempt the entrance to this purity and to knock at its doors.
And therefore as I see you, I will not say,
standing before the doors of that true prayer of which we have been speaking,
but touching its inner chambers and inward parts as it were with the hands of
experience, and already laying hold of some parts of it, I do not think that I
shall find any difficulty in introducing you now within what I may call its
hall, for you to roam about its recesses, as the Lord may direct; nor do I think
that you will be hindered from investigating what is to be shown you by any
obstacles or difficulties. For he is next door to understanding who carefully
recognizes what he ought to ask about, nor is he far from knowledge, who begins
to understand how ignorant he is. And therefore I am not afraid of the charge of
betraying secrets, and of levity, if I divulge what when speaking in my former
discourse on the perfection of prayer I had kept back from discussing, as I
think that its force was to be explained to us who are occupied with this
subject and interest even without the aid of my words, by the grace of God.
|
