As Eastern Orthodoxy
grows among English-speaking peoples, Western Christians are becoming
increasingly familiar with Christianity's oldest tradition, with the Church
which claims to bring to modernity the very spirit and essence of the Apostolic
Church. Yet this familiarity, as flattering as it might be to a venerable faith
which has seen the ancient witness of millions upon millions of its children
fade into social and historical obscurity in the West, is fraught with danger.
For, paradoxically, the growth of Eastern Orthodoxy is occurring at a time when
Orthodox spirituality is at a particular low. A vast majority of the Church
struggles in Eastern Europe under the yoke of political persecution. In many
places the simple discussion of Orthodoxy is perilous. Monasticism, often
characterized by Eastern Fathers as the barometer by which Orthodox spiritual
health is measured, is engaged in what appears to be a losing battle with
contemporary social ideals and morality. Some of the most popular Orthodox
theologians are tainted in their teachings by Western thought and by a
non-Orthodox mentality. And with overwhelming sadness, we have seen, in the
last several decades, the passing of many of the spiritual giants (Elder
Philotheos Zervakos of Greece and Archimandrite Justin Popovich of Serbia, among
others) who have been our living links to Orthodoxy's healthier spiritual past.
More importantly,
Eastern Orthodox in the Western diaspora are struggling to establish a firm
spirituality in the very midst of this world-wide crisis in the Church. The
dangers of being cut off from the more mature and developed centers of
historical Orthodoxy are heightened by the fact that in the West we have the
mere rudiments of traditional Orthodoxy. The Orthodox goal par excellence is
the deification of man, his union through grace with Christ, and his attainment
in this present life of the virtues of Christian perfection -- sainthood. But
the Saints, these exemplars of Orthodoxy and the fulfilled Christian life,
fading as they are in world Orthodoxy, are hardly to be found here in the West,
however painful or discomforting this fact may be. If we have attained any
spiritual maturity, it is by merciful grace and at the cost of factionalism and
spiritual pride nurtured in an atmosphere which hardly augurs well of future
growth. The dangers which these weaknesses brew, as though they were not
dreadful enough for Orthodox Christians, are compounded many times over when a
non-Orthodox Westerner wishes to learn or avail himself of the spirituality of
the Orthodox East. Blinded by the fearful forces which bombard Orthodoxy in
these days, an Orthodox Christian in the West is hard-pressed to see his own
way, let alone guide a stranger to his path.
Yet, as always, though
the darkness seems encompassing, there is a glimmer of light to which we can
turn. If the living Fathers of the Church are disappearing and their
availability to some Orthodox is ever so slight, they have none the less left
us, as one spiritual man has assured me, "elders bound in leather and
gold." They have left to us their words and their written instructions. We
can add, therefore, to the bare essentials of Orthodoxy present in the West,
the thunderingly silent printed patristic witness. We can begin slowly to see
the essence and substance of the unique truth that Orthodoxy is, not in
catechisms or statements of belief, but in actual practice. For, ultimately
Orthodoxy is not expressed only in correct beliefs, doctrines, or dogmas. It is
lived and felt and experienced. Beliefs, doctrines, and dogmas reflect a
"theology of facts," as one great Church Father expressed it, and the
locus of these facts is personal spiritual experience and practice. Until we
know what we believe as it is expressed in lives lived and transformed by real
individuals, rather than from logical dicta rising out of rigorous
philosophical systems, we cannot adequately express to the Westerner the truth
of the Orthodox Faith. And to know these real individuals, these incarnate
pillars of philosophical truth, we must turn to the largely unknown spiritual
treasures of Orthodoxy, the ascetic parables and writings of those who
struggled with the passions for perfection in Christ.
There are two
outstanding and indispensable compilations of the writings of the Holy Fathers
of the Church which are most important for Orthodox in the West: the Philokalia
and the Evergetinos. The Philokalia, a collection of writings by Fathers living
approximately between 300 and 1400 A.D., contains exalted theological writings
by some thirty Fathers. These writings are essentially instructions to monks
and spiritual aspirants in methods by which, to quote the full title of the
collection, "the mind is purified, illumined, and made perfect through
practical and contemplative moral philosophy." It contains very advanced
teachings ranging from advice on the proper control of the breath during
prayerful contemplation to detailed instructions for the attainment of freedom
from the passions. Though it has appeared in part in English, it is relatively
unknown in its entirety to many Orthodox. Even in its Greek, Slavonic, and
Russian editions, it is not widely read in modern times. The transition from an
Orthodoxy lacking spiritual maturity and beset by formidable external foes to
the perfection of the theoretical philosophy of the Philokalia is not an easy
one and, even in translation, this collection is not a first solution to the
spiritual naivet� of contemporary Orthodox.
The Evergetinos is
probably the beginning point for Orthodox in the West who wish to capture
something of the essence of their faith. If the Philokalia teaches pure prayer
and the path to deification and union with God, the Evergetinos provides us
with anecdotal evidence that the practice of Christian virtues, such as
humility, chastity, love for our neighbor, and submission to the will of God,
can bring us to the brink of the ultimate encounter with the divine by which we
are elevated to the philosophical and higher struggle for perfection. If from
the Philokalia we are instructed in the philosophical way to perfection, in the
Evergetinos we are guided to the pragmatic life of humility and self-control
(composure), the indispensable requisites for the more advanced endeavor of the
former. In the Evergetinos we see the virtuous lives of the desert monks who,
during the first few centuries of Christianity, fled to the barren deserts
around the Mediterranean and lived the most extreme and awe-inspiring lives of
asceticism in a search for God.
The Fathers (and among
the Fathers, we include the spiritual Mothers) who dwelled in the desert and
whose lives fill the Evergetinos are much like the sacred icons of the Orthodox
Church. By naturalistic standards, they are distorted, strange, and foreign to
us, images at times seemingly appropriate to the fanciful. Nevertheless, just
as icons draw us into their spiritual auras and become windows through which we
see faint glimpses of the heavenly world, so the Fathers of the desert draw us
into the sphere of their spiritual power and force us deep into the recesses of
our consciences and allow us to look on the almost lost spiritual powers
dwelling unheeded within ourselves. Their asceticism cannot be - perhaps should
not be - imitated by many. They are simply a standard to which we should
strive, a flame so bright as to kindle within us the spark of spiritual desire.
But this is not to say that they are removed from us.
The desert Fathers
speak of sexual desire, envy, greed, jealousy, hate, and the most complex human
foibles. They expose to us what is all too familiar and obvious. They let us
see with alarming clarity the depth of our depravity and the labyrinths of our
sinful inner chasms. And though we probably cannot attain to the fullest extent
the virtues by which these holy hermits overcame human depravity, we can see
clearly the folly of a modern world seeking goodness, truth, purity, and virtue
without first humbling itself before its Creator and the subtle inward world of
spiritual truth. Hearing today of virtues, the ancient Fathers show them, by
their examples, to be plastic virtues. Seeing today monuments of faith built
with stone and mortar, the desert dwellers show us monuments of faith built on
flesh and blood.
As we enter into the
world of beginning monks, freshly having left the world, and accomplished
elders who have gained discernment of the inner life, spiritual discretion, the
ability to see into the hearts and minds of others, we embark on a journey into
a strangely real world. In the small communities of monks gathered in the
wilderness (sketes), we find those who, in their lives and by their experience,
vivify the rules and commandments of Christian conduct. We see the living
source of the rules which most Christians today emptily follow. And we see the
mystical rewards and products of virtuous lives in these examples of perfection
attained on earth. Indeed, we have an elemental encounter with what the
Orthodox Christian life encompasses: a set of beliefs and practices gleaned
from experience and a profound way of life, not a system based on regimented
acts coldly governed by abstract beliefs and rules propped up with mere
emotionalism. We touch what gives our otherwise vain and fruitless efforts in
the Christian life their meaning and content. Standing before us is the answer
to modern disbelief: the possibility of deeper life and the fulfillment of lost
goals which, at least in the wild attempts by many contemporary religious
groups to give external meaning to an internally moribund Christianity, have
become meaningless, if not ignominious, pursuits.
The Evergetinos was
first published in the eighteenth century through the efforts of Saint Makarios
of Corinth and Saint Nikodemos of the Holy Mountain. It was thus taken from the
hands of the monks of Mount Athos and made available to the Orthodox faithful.
In addition to recent, excellent editions published in Greece, parts of the
Evergetinos have appeared in English. However, these English translations have
not adequately provided for the spiritual needs of Orthodox in the West. There
are two reasons for this. Firstly, the writings in the Evergetinos, as we have
observed, though not as advanced as those in the Philokalia, still express some
very profound philosophical and psychological precepts. They are written in an
ironic tone, often having shades and levels of meaning not immediately
apparent. Moreover, since they are written largely for those seriously engaged
in the spiritual struggle, they often assume some ascetic experience on the
part of the reader.
Therefore, selections
from the Evergetinos designed for the general reader should be made by those
with spiritual experience and the discernment to know what is and what is not
too complex for the beginner. This has not, in general, been the case. For the
most part, the available translations are by Roman Catholics working from Latin
texts with anecdotes that relate to an Eastern monasticism foreign to the
traditions and development of Western monasticism, or by scholars with largely
academic interest in the desert Fathers. However noble the efforts of these
translators may be, they lack the very experience which the Evergetinos
transmits and which is necessary in order to produce a useful introduction to
Orthodox spirituality for the beginner or lay reader.
Secondly, there are
today very few individuals who truly understand what translation is. I have
noted that the presentation of deep spiritual writings demands very careful
selection of passages by spiritually experienced individuals. How much more,
then, we should expect such experience to play a role in the translation of the
passages. Too many times we find that translators have fallen into a
supercilious style of translation in which they unwittingly lose the meaning of
a passage in their misguided efforts to show technical precision and, one might
suspect, to demonstrate their superior knowledge of some language. They produce
lengthy introductions in criticism of one or another translator, thereby, in
the case of spiritual writings, acting against the very charity embodied in
what they translate.
Even in the case of
some superb translations, such as the translation of the Philokalia now in
progress with the aid of such superior translators as Archimandrite Kallistos
Ware and Professor Constantine Cavarnos, the publishers often show a complete
lack of spiritual sensitivity. Certainly against the better judgment of Dr.
Cavarnos (and no doubt other translators), the first volume of this project
violated the arrangement of the writings made by Saint Nikodemos of the Holy
Mountain, the first publisher of the Philokalia. In the interest of supposed
"scholarly objectivity," the writings of Saint Anthony the Great were
appended to the text with effusive accusations against their authenticity. An
acquiescence to the spiritual authority of Saint Nikodemos, natural for anyone
of spiritual knowledge, would have been the proper course. It would have
reflected the understanding which is absolutely necessary for the preparation
of spiritual books.
Thus it is that I offer
the present slim volume of selections from the Evergetinos. They are not meant
as pedantic considerations of the Greek text, but as comparative translations
which bring out the simple messages of the easier lessons of the desert
Fathers. They are meant as beginnings for beginners. The passages are
translated primarily from the demotic Greek, the colloquial dialect of Greece,
and therefore reflect the same concise, simplified versions which the
less-sophisticated and less learned (albeit, perhaps more pious) faithful of
Greece have received. Some will find this offensive, since in places phrases
and expressions, magnificently expressed in the better Greek dialect, but
difficult to understand and confusing to the beginner, have been omitted. Still
in other places, though as seldom as possible, the modern Greek renderings have
been supplemented by phrases from the standard Evergetinos to insure clarity of
meaning. Where extant English translations of the passages seem to express
better the spiritual intent of the text, despite some disloyalty to the demotic
Greek version, they have been incorporated into the final rendering.
There is, then, nothing
precisely scholarly in what I have done. The concern has been for the
transmission of certain spiritual precepts and for the selection of passages
which are as beneficial to the layman as they are to the experienced monk. But
even in this, a few words have to be said about the underlying theology of the
desert Fathers and about their spiritual psychology. Let us take several
important examples. It is almost impossible to capture in translation the Greek
words diakrisis and penthos. The former word implies discretion, discernment,
and even a supernatural kind of cognition. So when a monk possessed of
spiritual diakrisis appears in the proverbs of the Fathers, I have arbitrarily
called him a monk of discretion or a monk endowed with discernment. In the case
of the latter word, one can render it grief, mourning, lamentation, and even,
at times, something akin to repentance. I have tried not to be arbitrary in
translating this word. In both cases it would be foolish to try, in the simple
translation of a word, to convey the characteristics of an accomplished monk.
Diakrisis and penthos have technical meanings in Orthodox patristic writings.
If one can be somewhat arbitrary with the one and not with the other, this
allowance can only result from some familiarity with the theology of those
writings. For this reason I strongly suggest that the reader acquaint himself
with Professor Constantine Cavarnos' essay, "The Philokalia," which
constitutes the fourth chapter of his readable and essential book, Byzantine
Thought and Art (Belmont, Mass., 1968). In a few pages one can gain an
understanding of the spiritual terminology of the Fathers and enhance greatly
his comprehension of their writing and deeds.
I must say, also,
something about my style of translation. Demotic is, as it were, a short-hand
version of the "pure" Greek dialect. This has necessitated, for clear
understanding in the English text, some changes in the verb tenses and in the
sequence of adjectival expressions. As well, I have taken the liberty of
repeating nouns in some clauses where references are made by Greek pronouns
having no counterparts in English. In the case of particularly complex or
ironic statements, sometimes rendered idiomatically in the Greek, I have used
an underlining purely of my own invention. In addition, I have felt free to include
some idiosyncratic uses. While names are usually transliterated directly from
the Greek (according to the modern rule) even when English translations are
available (e.g., "Antonios" instead of "Anthony," or
"Markos" instead of "Mark") in some cases I did not find
this comfortable; hence, Abba "Moses" the Black. Further, I have used
the word "Abba" much as we use today the word "Father." At
times I have arbitrarily interchanged the words. And finally, the Greek word "hosios"
I have translated as "holy" in most places, though, in order to
enhance the text, as "Saint" in others. Otherwise, I have usually
rendered the word "hagios" as "Saint" (except when used as
an adjective). I apologize for these oddities.
Now, lest anyone think
that I have proceeded with an overestimation of my own abilities, may I add a
crucial disclaimer? The following passages, by virtue of being translated from
a demotic Greek version of the writings of the desert Fathers, aim at giving a
simple and very understandable introduction to Orthodox spirituality. Moreover,
they are comprised of selections which provide a deliberate and balanced view
of the inner life of the desert dwellers. These two qualities, we have said,
are the earmarks of a good translator and a good spiritual guide. I am neither.
In no sense do I pretend to have adequate abilities to translate the sublime
spiritual words of the Fathers. Nor, as is well known to those around me, am I
a man of any spiritual attainment whatever. I have, rather, followed very
closely and used as my primary original source a small volume, the Mikros
("Small" or "Shorter") Evergetinos (Hagion Oros-Athens,
1977), by the monk Kallinikos of the Skete of Saint Ann on Mount Athos. In
following his selections, I have necessarily benefited from the wisdom of
Father Kallinikos. Whatever I have presented that is good is his; the errors
and the poorness in presentation are my own.
I have taken a final
liberty in this small effort. Combined with the anecdotes of the desert Fathers
are a few anecdotes which I have attributed to spiritual people of our own
times, mostly holy men and women living in Greece. I have done this to
emphasize that, despite the waning tide of Orthodox spirituality today, there
are still some spiritual Fathers of the stature of the ancients. The desert
exists not just in the past years; it is also in our hearts. And though they
are few and silent and hidden, there are today Fathers and Mothers dwelling in
the deserts of their hearts. To the extent that we, too, search our hearts and
turn to the inner life, God will no doubt raise up these men and cure, with
their perfect examples, the spiritual malaise of our age. Then they can do with
deeds what poor spiritual pariahs such as myself can only ape with limited
offerings such as the present little book.
COMMENTS ON THE BOOK
"These
translations, by the Very Rev. Dr. Chrysostomos, of the anecdotes and tales of
the early Fathers of the desert are superb. They express, beyond the
theological discernment necessary for their adequate translation, the essence
of poetic insight."
Robert J. McGovern,
Co-Editor, The Ashland Poetry Press
"One of the
primary goals of the historian is to know the thoughts and minds of those who
lived before us and who have shaped the realities of the present. Archimandrite
Chrysostomos, in his trenchant and careful translations of the ancient parables
of the desert Fathers, gives us our Christian past in a beautiful and vivid
way. His superb introduction to these writings reminds us that all of us have
forgotten all too much about the sources of our contemporary Christian
traditions. He has thus given us something to think about as historians. But in
addition to this; he has done something more. He has brought back to mind the
psychology of a Christianity that is common to all of us - which lingers intuitively
in the mind of anyone who is historically conscious."
Charles D. Ferroni,
Professor of History, Ashland College
"Anyone reading
(in translation) the writings of the Holy Fathers cannot but regret not
possessing the knowledge of Greek, so as fully to savor their beauty. In this
work we have before us charming, yet profound, anecdotes and deep spiritual
advice. The holy men become all but personally known to us. Archimandrite
Chrysostomos has indeed done a great work in making so many of the desert Fathers
as accessible and vivid in the English language as they are in the Greek."
Mother Alexandra,
Abbess of the Orthodox Monastery of the Transfiguration (formerly Her Highness,
Illeana, Princess of Romania)
No comments:
Post a Comment