D
DL82
Guest
I have been thinking a lot about this recently, and it seems as though the real turning point of Western as distinct from Eastern Christian culture happens with St Francis and St John of the Cross. What follows may ramble a bit, and it will necessarily paint in broad brush strokes, so I apologise if I misrepresent either East or West in any way.
St Seraphin of Sarov is often regarded as the ‘St Francis of the East’, but beyond superficial similarities (living at peace with nature, being joyful about penance), the two are very different. St Seraphin’s spirituality is that of a Russian starets, he went into the wilderness in solitude, prayed the Jesus Prayer, and practiced the hermetic life until his passions were quieted, until the mind and the body were mortified, and then the Holy Spirit could shine through. With St Francis, there was no such waiting, he was converted, and he went about forming his religious order from day one. He remained a man of passions, his passions were ‘converted’, from wealth to poverty, from fame to evangelism, but never ‘mortified’ in the Eastern sense.
The distinction between Palamas, who argues that the monk who has been mortified in both body and mind receives the beatific vision, and St John of the Cross, who argues that even after that, there is a need to renounce even spiritual consolations, to avoid ‘spiritual glutton’ for visions and gifts, and to enter the ‘dark night of the soul’, is the inverse of this.
Eastern monasticism concerns itself with anastasis or apathea, ‘unmovedness’, attaining a state beyond the temptations of the body or the mind, in which the perfect monk is essentially living in heaven while on earth. Western monasticism, in the Benedictine tradition, has a similar end in sight. This is why the most accomplished monks, Eastern and Benedictine, become hermits, (and bishops, particularly in the East) and the Eastern hermits can often find themselves living in the midst of the world, the holy fools and starets, without being corrupted by it. The temptations to spiritual sloth (acedia), or to spiritual pride and a false or premature sense of ‘enlightenment’ are a constant concern for the spiritual writers of the East, who devote much of their spiritual science to discerning and combating these evils. The end is known - the monk who avoids these traps can be perfected by God’s grace, to the point where ‘no longer I who live, but Christ in me’, and at that point can begin a new phase of their ministry. It was at this point that St Seraphin begins his public ministry.
St Francis’ life, in contrast, suggests that this step, the final perfection of the monk, is not necessary for sanctity. St Francis lives the evangelical councils while he is still at war with his passions. St John of the Cross’ writings, further, suggest that such final perfection is not only unneccessary but impossible. Nemo potest ad impossibile obligari - no one may be obliged to do the impossible. There always remains a concupiscence, not only in the body and mind, but also in the spirit, which may be further and further mortified.
From this diad spring all the subsequent differences between West and East, between ‘authentic development’ and ‘immemorial’ doctrine, also all of the uncertainties, debates and divisions about whether one can/should ‘know’ that they are saved or have the gift of final perseverence that first plagued the Franciscans in the time that the Little Flowers of St Francis were written, and later the Protestant reformers, and also down to today all of the ongoing introspection of psychology, psychoanalysis and critical theory.
Well, there it is, it’s an idea. It was in my head, now it’s on a web forum.
St Seraphin of Sarov is often regarded as the ‘St Francis of the East’, but beyond superficial similarities (living at peace with nature, being joyful about penance), the two are very different. St Seraphin’s spirituality is that of a Russian starets, he went into the wilderness in solitude, prayed the Jesus Prayer, and practiced the hermetic life until his passions were quieted, until the mind and the body were mortified, and then the Holy Spirit could shine through. With St Francis, there was no such waiting, he was converted, and he went about forming his religious order from day one. He remained a man of passions, his passions were ‘converted’, from wealth to poverty, from fame to evangelism, but never ‘mortified’ in the Eastern sense.
The distinction between Palamas, who argues that the monk who has been mortified in both body and mind receives the beatific vision, and St John of the Cross, who argues that even after that, there is a need to renounce even spiritual consolations, to avoid ‘spiritual glutton’ for visions and gifts, and to enter the ‘dark night of the soul’, is the inverse of this.
Eastern monasticism concerns itself with anastasis or apathea, ‘unmovedness’, attaining a state beyond the temptations of the body or the mind, in which the perfect monk is essentially living in heaven while on earth. Western monasticism, in the Benedictine tradition, has a similar end in sight. This is why the most accomplished monks, Eastern and Benedictine, become hermits, (and bishops, particularly in the East) and the Eastern hermits can often find themselves living in the midst of the world, the holy fools and starets, without being corrupted by it. The temptations to spiritual sloth (acedia), or to spiritual pride and a false or premature sense of ‘enlightenment’ are a constant concern for the spiritual writers of the East, who devote much of their spiritual science to discerning and combating these evils. The end is known - the monk who avoids these traps can be perfected by God’s grace, to the point where ‘no longer I who live, but Christ in me’, and at that point can begin a new phase of their ministry. It was at this point that St Seraphin begins his public ministry.
St Francis’ life, in contrast, suggests that this step, the final perfection of the monk, is not necessary for sanctity. St Francis lives the evangelical councils while he is still at war with his passions. St John of the Cross’ writings, further, suggest that such final perfection is not only unneccessary but impossible. Nemo potest ad impossibile obligari - no one may be obliged to do the impossible. There always remains a concupiscence, not only in the body and mind, but also in the spirit, which may be further and further mortified.
From this diad spring all the subsequent differences between West and East, between ‘authentic development’ and ‘immemorial’ doctrine, also all of the uncertainties, debates and divisions about whether one can/should ‘know’ that they are saved or have the gift of final perseverence that first plagued the Franciscans in the time that the Little Flowers of St Francis were written, and later the Protestant reformers, and also down to today all of the ongoing introspection of psychology, psychoanalysis and critical theory.
Well, there it is, it’s an idea. It was in my head, now it’s on a web forum.