ONTOLOGICAL ECOLOGY: THE CREATED WORLD IN EARLY

CHRISTIAN MONASTIC SPIRITUALITY

Thesis

Submitted to

The College of Arts and Sciences of the

UNIVERSITY OF DAYTON

In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for

The Degree of

Master of Arts in Theological Studies

By

Scott Charles Howland

UNIVERSITY OF DAYTON

Dayton, Ohio

August 2017

ONTOLOGICAL ECOLOGY: THE CREATED WORLD IN EARLY CHRISTIAN

MONASTIC SPIRITUALITY

Name: Howland, Scott Charles

APPROVED BY:

______Fr. Silviu Bunta Associate Professor Faculty Advisor

______William Johnston, Ph.D. Associate Professor Reader

______D. Michael Cox, Ph.D. Lecturer Reader

______Daniel Speed Thompson, Ph.D. Department of Religious Studies Chair

ii

ABSTRACT

ONTOLOGICAL ECOLOGY: THE CREATED WORLD IN EARLY CHRISTIAN

MONASTIC SPIRITUALITY

Name: Howland, Scott Charles University of Dayton

Advisor: Fr. Silviu Bunta

This thesis analyzes the ability of early Christian monastic spirituality to contribute fruitful theological principles and spiritual practices to the contemporary

Christian response to climate change. To accomplish this task this thesis analyzes the threefold spiritual vision (i.e. liturgical, ascetical, and mystical) of the Desert Fathers and

Mothers of fourth century Egypt. “Eco-theology” has followed the well-established trends of western theology and ethics, and with few exceptions, supports its conclusions with ethical arguments that use reason and natural law; these ethical systems tend to shy away from the various spiritual (i.e. liturgical, ascetic, and mystical) aspects of theology.

This polarization in favor of strict ethical arguments transforms the Christian response to climate change into a mere moral obligation; however, the Christian’s love and care for the created world is not just a moral obligation, but an ontological necessity. This thesis explores two major areas of interest in relation to the Desert Fathers and Mothers: (1) the

iii liturgical (i.e. Baptism, Eucharist, and Confession), ascetical (i.e. fasting, prayer, and stability), and mystical (i.e. visions of the divine light and deification) traditions that form the threefold, yet singular, spiritual vision of early Christian monasticism; and (2) the manner in which this spiritual life is related to the numerous interactions between monastics and the created world that are portrayed in early Christian monastic literature.

The intent of this thesis is not to reject or replace the work that has been accomplished in the modern field of ecotheology, but rather to add an alternative “voice” in the Christian conversation on the dignity of the created world. The ethical arguments made by eco- ethicists have produced much fruit in recent years, and those accomplishments are not to be overlooked; technological advancements, international trade/business agreements, and grassroots movements are essential to the short-term initiatives to repair the damage that has been done to our common home. For these short-term solutions to have a lasting impact, however, it is imperative that human beings make a radical shift in the way that they understand their relationship with the created world — this shift must be one toward an ontological understanding of the relationship between humanity and the rest of the created world. This shift must be accomplished through a revitalization of early Christian monastic spirituality among Christians today — lay and religious alike.

iv PREFACE

The inherent relationship between theological practice and environmental studies first came to my attention when I attended a conference on Pope Francis’ encyclical

Laudato Si, which was held at the University of Dayton. One of the presentations at this conference was given by Dr. Douglas Christie, author of The Blue Sapphire of the Mind:

Notes for a Contemplative Ecology. His presentation urged me to think more about the manner in which we relate to the created world, and motivated me to develop my own research on the relationship between ecology and the practice of religion. The specific topic of this thesis was developed from my reading of the Sayings of the Desert Fathers, in which I found numerous interactions between monks of fourth-century Egypt and the created world that exhibited an immense love and care for creation. As the world faces many complex ecological issues today, it occurred to me that such stories provide useful lessons that may aid our contemporary Christian response to climate change. What follows here is an attempt to bridge two worlds, to bring together the ancient traditions of

Christian monasticism and the moral challenges of the twenty-first century, so that the former may illuminate the latter and provide Christians today with tools to aid them in their response to global climate change.

v TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT ...... iii

PREFACE ...... v

INTRODUCTION ...... 1

A Tradition of Love ...... 1

An Ontological Ecology ...... 3

CHAPTER I THE THEOLOGICAL CONTEXT OF EARLY CHRISTIAN

MONASTICISM ...... 7

The Origin, Nature, and Destination of the Human Person ...... 7

Sin, Salvation, and the Naturalness of the Holy ...... 11

CHAPTER II THE SPIRITUALITY OF THE DESERT FATHERS

AND MOTHERS ...... 20

Introduction ...... 20

Three Churches, One Liturgy ...... 21

The Liturgical Practices of the Desert ...... 27

A Life of Asceticism ...... 45

Mysticism in the Desert ...... 53

Living as Creation ...... 57

vi

CHAPTER III BUILDING AN ONTOLOGICAL ECOLOGY ...... 61

Introduction ...... 61

A Universal Vocation ...... 62

Living a Life of Liturgy, Asceticism, and Mysticism ...... 66

CHAPTER IV CONCLUSION ...... 84

BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 89

vii INTRODUCTION

A Tradition of Love

The desert fathers and mothers of fourth-century Egypt are some of the most well- known spiritual masters of the Christian tradition. The corpus of literature that has been passed down by the disciples of these holy men and women has become popular spiritual reading for Christians around the world. The early Egyptian monks did not only bequeath the Christian tradition with accounts of their lives, but also with a spirituality that has flourished for centuries. A common theme that appears in these accounts of early

Christian monastic life can be derived from the manner in which the desert fathers and mothers related to the environment in which they lived. It is a common misconception to assume, based upon the harsh ascetic lifestyle of these desert elders, that they understood the physical world as “evil” and something to be rejected. One of the core elements of this early monastic spiritual tradition is the understanding that God created the world and that everything in it is good — there can be no created matter that is inherently evil, for

God’s divinity is present in all matter. Early Christian monastics understood that their lives must not aim to reject the material world as if it were evil, but that they must relate to the material world with the highest degree of prudence possible. In this way, these men and women sought to harmonize their temporal lives on earth with the eternal and divine

1 life of Paradise — the life for which all of creation was originally intended before sin entered into the world.

Throughout Christian history, monks from around the world have continued to exemplify the human-environment relationships that were typical of the desert fathers and mothers. Abba Yafkerena-Egzie, an anchorite from Ethiopia, was known to weep over the death of earthworms;1 there are accounts of another monk, Elder Isidore — the spiritual father of the famous Russian mathematician, theologian, and martyr, Pavel

Florensky — who saved uprooted weeds from the monastery garden by placing them in jars of water;2 Abba Macarius once killed a mosquito that landed on his foot, and out of remorse he spent six months completely naked among the legions of mosquitoes in the

Scetis marshes.3 Even at the end of his life the twentieth-century Orthodox saint Silouan mourned the killing of a fly in his youth.4 These monks’ intimate relationship with the created world, which is characterized by a deep love for even the smallest elements of creation, is representative of the understanding that early Christian monastics had in regard to the relationship between God, humanity, and the rest of the created world. The accounts recalled above, especially to modern ears, may sound rather odd and sensational. It is not the task of this thesis, however, to evaluate the historical accuracy of

1 Elizabeth Theokritoff, Living in God’s Creation: Orthodox Perspectives on Ecology (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2009), 137.

2 Pavel Florensky, Salt of the Earth (Platina, CA: St. Herman of Alaska Brotherhood, 1987), 71.

3 Lucien Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life of the Desert Fathers in Fourth Century Egypt, trans. Etienne Poirier Jr (Petersham, MA: St. Bede’s Publications, 1999), 199.

4 Archimandrite Sophrony, St. Silouan the Athonite, trans. Rosemary Edmonds (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1999), 469.

2 these accounts; rather, its aim is to analyze the ability of early Christian monastic spirituality to contribute fruitful theological principles and spiritual practices to the contemporary Christian response to climate change.

As our society and our Christian communities become more aware of the importance of caring for the world in which we live, it is of the utmost importance that we draw from the traditions of the Church in order to defend the dignity of the created world. Stories such as the ones recalled above can be incredibly useful as an example from which we can learn to love and care for the created world. One of the greatest dangers, however, in appropriating stories from the past for our use in the present is to anachronistically “read” modern theories and concerns into the motivations of people who lived in vastly different historical contexts. It can be tempting to think that the loving relationship with the created world that was exhibited by early Christian monastics stemmed from a form of ethical reasoning — as does the modern field of environmental ethics — but it must be understood that these monks had no knowledge of environmental ethics or conservation as they are known today. Why then, did these monks live out their relationship within the created world in the manner that they did? The goal of this thesis, in the broadest sense, is to provide an answer to this question.

An Ontological Ecology

One of the major issues facing the global community today is the abuse of the created world, which has resulted in a variety of complex ecological, economic, and social issues. In response to these challenges there have been widespread efforts to reduce the impact of human activity in the world. Christian theologians have joined in this fight

3 and have provided important and meaningful contributions to the contemporary movement that aims to “save the world.” The majority of theologians who have joined this effort conduct research in the field known as “eco-theology.”

Eco-theology has followed the well-established trends of modern theology and ethics and supports its conclusions with ethical arguments that use reason and natural law; these particular ethical systems tend to shy away from the various spiritual (i.e. liturgical, ascetic, and mystical) aspects of theology. This dissociation in favor of strict ethical arguments is bound to transform the Christian response to climate change into a mere moral obligation; however, the literature explored here indicates that the Christian’s love and care for the created world is not just a moral obligation, but an ontological necessity. A major difference between eco-theology in its broadest lines and the ontological ecology that will be extracted in this thesis from early monastic literature can be widely summarized as follows: eco-theology, through a process of moral reasoning, argues in favor of the dignity of the created world in order to “save the world” so that humankind can live peacefully on earth; ontological ecology aims to harmonize the human person’s temporal life on earth with the eternal and divine life of God in Paradise so that all of creation may live for eternity in heaven.

The intent of this thesis is not to reject or replace the work that has been accomplished in the modern field of eco-theology as a whole, but rather to add an alternative voice in the Christian conversation on the dignity of the created world. The ethical arguments made by eco-theologians have produced much fruit in recent years, and many of those accomplishments are not to be overlooked; technological advancements, international trade/business agreements, and grassroots movements are essential to the

4 short-term initiatives to repair the damage that has been done to the created world. In order for these short term solutions to have a lasting impact, however, it is imperative that human beings make a radical shift in the way that they understand their relationship with the created world — this shift might be one that moves toward an ontological ecology.

Through an evaluation of the monastic tradition of fourth-century Egypt, and of its predecessors and parallel traditions, this thesis proposes that the radical shift discussed above can be aided through a recovery of early Christian monastic spirituality among

Christians across the globe.

In order to address this proposal in an exhaustive manner, and since many concepts and terms have evolved in meaning since the fourth century, chapter one will discuss many of the major concepts and definitions that are necessary for the reader to become immersed in the theological and spiritual world of early Christian monasticism.

Topics addressed in this chapter will include: the origin, nature, and destination of the human person, sin, salvation, and the naturalness of the holy person. Once these core concepts have been defined in their proper context, it will be necessary to discuss the origins of Christian monasticism.

Chapter two, titled “The Spirituality of the Desert Fathers and Mothers,” will be the focal point of this thesis, as it will provide the tools necessary to formulate an ontological ecology that is suitable for Christians in the twenty-first century. This chapter will explore two major areas of interest in relation to the desert fathers and mothers: (1) the liturgical (i.e. Baptism, Eucharist, and Confession), ascetical (i.e. fasting, prayer, and stability), and mystical (i.e. visions of the Glory and deification) traditions that form the threefold, yet singular, spiritual vision of early Christian monasticism; and (2) the manner

5 in which this spiritual life is related to the numerous interactions between monastics and the created world that are portrayed in early Christian monastic literature.

Chapter three, “Building an Ontological Ecology,” will directly address the manner in which the early Christian monastic spirituality of the desert fathers and mothers can contribute to the contemporary Christian response to climate change. In order to accomplish this goal, two factors will be discussed: (1) the universal vocation of

Christians; (2) practical suggestions for building an ontological ecology.

6 CHAPTER I

THE THEOLOGICAL CONTEXT OF EARLY CHRISTIAN MONASTICISM

The Origin, Nature, and Destination of the Human Person

In order to cultivate a fruitful discussion on the spirituality of early Christian monasticism, it is of the utmost importance to understand the theological context in which the monks of fourth-century Egypt understood their place in the world and their relationship with God. An accurate representation of this theological context can be found in the work of the Church fathers that is related to the origin, nature, and destination of the human person. The Church fathers centered their understanding of the human person on the notion that humans are made “in the image of God” — the precedence for which is found in Genesis and the New Testament writings of Paul.5

Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.” (Genesis 1:26)6

He is the image of the invisible God, the first-born of all creation; for in him all

5 Panayiotis Nellas, Deification in Christ: Orthodox perspectives on the nature of the human person, (Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1987), 24.

6 All passages of Scripture have been quoted from the Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (RSVCE).

7 things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the first-born from the dead, that in everything he might be pre-eminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. (Colossians 1:15-20)

The Church fathers found in this passage from Colossians, which was likely an early

Christian liturgical hymn, the precedence for uniting the “Pauline theme of Christ — the image of God with the Genesis theme of man — in the image of God.”7 This relationship between these concepts found in the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament makes it possible to understand that “Christ constitutes the image of God and man the image of

Christ; that is to say, that man is the image of the image.”8 If human beings are in fact the

“image of the image” of God, then the nature and form of the human person can be understood as being modeled after the nature and form of the Incarnate Christ.

The form that is reflected in the physical nature of human beings is that of the

Incarnate Christ; “the archetype of man is Christ… the old Adam is not a model for the new, but the new a model for the old.”9 It is commonly misunderstood that Christ took on the form of the anthropos when He became incarnate in the physical world. According to the theological context defined above, however, the opposite is true. The anthropos was created according to the Image of God, which is Christ; therefore, the anthropos was modeled after the incarnate Christ. Icons provide a particularly effective metaphor by

7 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 24. The emphasis found in this quotation is original to the source text.

8 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 24.

9 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 24.

8 which the archetypal relationship between Creator and creature can be understood: “As the truth of an icon lies in the person it represents, so the truth of man lies in his archetype.”10 Icons, which are made of wood and paint, have their own physical existence, but their true meaning is not defined by the matter of which they are made but by that which they represent. In the same way, human beings consist of their own physical realities, but the true meaning of their existence can only be properly understood in the presence of God that their physical reality reflects; therefore, “the category of biological existence does not exhaust man. Man is understood ontologically by the fathers only as a theological being. His ontology is iconic.”11 The existence of human beings is not defined by their physical reality, but by their “iconic” nature. In addition to

Christ’s archetypal role in regard to the form of human beings, he also acts as the archetype for human nature.

The first aspect of human nature that can be understood in relation to Christ is the fact that human beings are rational creatures. According to the theological context defined above, “man is rational because he was created in the image of Christ, who is the hypostatic Logos of the Father.”12 Since human beings are made in the image of Christ, who is in turn the image of God, human beings are made distinct from their animal brothers and sisters due to their ability to experience the cosmos in a rational manner.

The second aspect of human nature that is directly related to Christ is the

10 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 33.

11 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 33-34.

12 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 25.

9 cosmological destination toward which human beings are oriented. Human beings,

“having been created in the image of the infinite God, [are] called by [their] own nature

— and this is precisely the sense of ‘in the image’ from this point of view — to transcend the limited boundaries of creation to become infinite.”13 Although human beings are finite creatures, they are created in the image and likeness of an infinite God-man; therefore, human beings are created to exist eternally in union with the infinite God.

Understanding the transcendent nature of human life, as it exists in relationship with God, is a vital component of the worldview of the desert fathers and mothers. Without understanding that all of creation was brought into existence for something greater than the state that it currently inhabits, it would be impossible to develop an ontological ecology that guides Christians toward understanding their relationship with the whole of creation as something that is eternal and divine. The transcendence of creation can only be achieved, however, if the gap between the finite and infinite — between creature and

Creator — is bridged. The answer to this problem was articulated by St. John of

Damascus, who

summarizes the whole of the patristic tradition which preceded him when he teaches that ‘all things are distant from God not by place but by nature’... The essential gulf between created and uncreated nature is absolute and infinite. But the equally infinite goodness of God, without abolishing that essential gulf, has been pleased to bridge it in a real way from the beginning with the uncreated divine energies… The energies of God, which support and conserve the created order, and have in relation to the world the aim of guiding it towards its perfection, acquire in man a specific created vehicle, which is the union of man with the Divine Logos. This is the meaning of the expression ‘in the image.’14

All of creation exists due to the presence of God in all matter. In addition to being the

13 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 28.

14 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 31.

10 source of all life and existence, God crosses the ontological gap between Creator and creature in order to imbue humanity with His nature. God shows this presence further through the use of types and symbols, all of which fit into the categories of either

Creation (i.e. creation) or Scripture.15 The presence of God’s revelation to humanity in both the physical world and Scripture will be discussed in greater detail in chapter two.

The most important implication of understanding Christ as the archetype of the anthropos deals with the salvific nature of Christ’s incarnation. Through the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ, human beings are not only redeemed from their sinful state, but are also restored to their “iconic, prelapsarian ‘being’” — this process of restoration cannot simply be defined by the concept of redemption, but must be understood as a process of deification.16 The process of deification, by which humans beings grow in union with God, will also be discussed in greater detail in chapter two.

Sin, Salvation, and the Naturalness of the Holy

The very “being” of human existence is defined by its origin and destination in

God. The relationship between human and divine was harmed, however, when sin entered the world, and Adam and Eve were expelled from Paradise (Genesis 3). It is in this fallen state that humanity now exists. History, as it has been experienced by humanity in its fallen state, is not the natural state in which God intended human beings

15 Sebastian Brock, The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual World Vision of Ephrem of Syria (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1992), 41-42.

16 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 39.

11 to exist; it is for this reason that humans have always sought a reality that transcends the fallen state of the world.17

Experience, however, proves again that humanity does not find today what it seeks...not because it is impossible for humanity to find these things, or because they do not belong to it, but because it begins from a false starting point and a mistaken orientation. The false starting-point is the failure to appreciate the unnatural condition in which we find ourselves, and the mistaken orientation is that we are searching for something which is natural in the midst of what is unnatural.18

Humans often fail to find the ultimate happiness that they seek because they do not understand that the world in which they live is not their true home. Human beings are pilgrims who must travel through the unnatural state of life in which they exist so that they may return to the eternal life in union with God for which they were originally created. The present unnatural state of the world is best understood in light of the Genesis concept of the “garments of skin” (Genesis 3:21).

There are two important considerations that must be noted in relation to Adam and Eve’s transformation after their fall from Paradise: the first is that the garments of skin “were put on man after the fall and do not form one of his natural constituent elements;” second, “is that the garments of skin are not to be identified with the human body.”19 The garments of skin can more appropriately be understood as the “the mortality which man put on as his second nature after the fall.”20 Prior to taking on a mortal second

17 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 43.

18 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 43.

19 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 45.

20 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 46.

12 nature, Adam and Eve were ontologically “naked,” and,

if we understand the ‘nakedness’ as transparent, we can say that the body of Adam was so simple that it was in reality transparent, open to the material creation without resisting it in any way, and without the world offering any resistance to the body — the world had been surrendered to it. The human body, while maintaining its own peculiar constitution and separate identity with regard to the world, was nevertheless not divided from it at all.21

Human nature as it is known in the world today is not the original “garment” that God intended human beings to wear. In Paradise, the physical reality of human beings was not only eternal, but it also existed in a harmonious and undivided union with the rest of creation. It was only after Adam and Eve’s fall from Paradise that humans became mortal beings who are at odds with the world in which they exist. Based on this understanding of human existence in the world, it is logical to conclude that the present state of humanity is unnatural and it is only through union with God that humans can return to their natural state in Paradise and to their natural, God-intended relation to the world. It is for this reason, that it is more accurate to speak of creation and its relationship with God in terms of “unnatural” and “natural,” rather than “natural” and “supernatural.” The natural state for which humans were originally created is not, however, destroyed or obscured by this world. The lives of the desert fathers and mothers have gifted the Christian tradition with a glimpse of life in Paradise as they actualized it.

The desert fathers and mothers would have been familiar with the passage in

Scripture that states, “The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6). For the monastics of fourth-century Egypt this was an eschatological

21 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 53.

13 reality that was manifested in their daily lives. The harmonious relationships between early Christian monastics and animals provide a catalyst through which the naturalness of the holy person can be understood.

Holiness restores the relationships between all members of creation to the state in which they existed in Paradise. Since the world is now in a fallen state, it is the task of humanity to participate in the salvific nature of Christ’s incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension, which reunites all of creation to God. One example of this transformative restoration and its consequences can be found in the Sayings of the Desert

Fathers:

One of the Fathers used to tell of a certain Abba Paul, from Lower Egypt, who lived in the Thebaid. He used to take various kinds of snakes in his hands and cut them through the middle. The brethren made prostration before him saying, ‘Tell us what you have done to receive this grace.’ He said, ‘Forgive me, Fathers, but if someone has obtained purity, everything is in submission to him, as it was to Adam, when he was in Paradise before he transgressed the commandment.22

The outcome of this restoration is further explained by Abba Anthony; “He [Abba

Anthony] also said, ‘Obedience with abstinence gives men power over wild beasts.”23

Since growing in holiness returns individuals to the state of Paradise for which they were originally created, those who have embarked on such a journey are destined to return to the state of life that is most natural to them; therefore, holiness can be equated with a paradisiacal naturalness – the state of creation as it existed in Paradise before the presence of sin in the world.

The restoration of the paradisiacal state not only gives human beings power over

22 Paul 1.

23 Anthony 36.

14 animals, but also restores the relationship between humans and animals to the harmonious state in which it originally existed, such as when,

Agathon found a grotto and decided to move in. A large serpent living there immediately decided to give up its spot but the elder pleaded with it not to do so. ‘If you go, then I won’t stay either.’ So they both stayed and the two of them would go and feed on the sap of the sycamore tree in the region.24

The passage above provides an example of a holy person peacefully coexisting with a normally dangerous animal, but it also presents evidence that demonstrates that the restorative process of deification affects more than just the human person. The “serpent” in this story, according to its biological state in the fallen world, is a predator. In the instance above, however, this serpent sustains itself without harming other living beings

— human or animal. This notion of harmonious existence between all living things, especially in relation to the consumption of food, will be of vital importance in the later chapters of this thesis.

If holiness and naturalness can indeed be equated with one another, then it is logical to conclude that people are holy insofar as they fulfill the state of life that is natural to their being as it was intended by God — this means that an animal who fulfills its state in life, which animals do by mere instinct, has attained a greater state of holiness

(i.e. naturalness) than a sinful human being; it is no wonder that animals acted as examples of holiness for many early Christian monastics. “Nothing is more repugnant than a sinful man — not even the dog, pig or hyena — because these are beasts and respect their condition, while man is created in the image of God and does not guard his

24 Regnault, The Day-to-Day, 203.

15 condition.”25 It is for this same reason that Abba Xanthias said, “A dog is better than I am, for he has love and does not judge.”26 Animals attain such a level of holiness by simply existing in the most natural state of life that is possible for them in this fallen world; thus, animals are only relationally “fallen.” To be fallen relationally implies that the norms of life (e.g. food consumption) have been altered by the fallen state of the world. Creatures that are fallen relationally, however, remain in a natural harmony with

God — they praise God and fulfill His will simply by existing as members of creation.

Human beings, on the other hand, have removed themselves from the state in which God created them through their own free will, which also makes them internally “fallen.” This

“fallenness” of human nature is responsible for the presence of sin in the world.

In later theological contexts, the word “sin” most often refers to specific immoral thoughts or actions that are committed by individual persons. The desert fathers and mothers, however, understood sin in a slightly different manner. The theological context in which early Christian monastics existed defined “sin” as the singular fallen state of humanity, and sins (i.e. immoral thoughts or actions) as the symptoms of this shared sinfulness. The sinful state of humanity exists because of the ancestral sin of Adam and

Eve in Paradise, which caused all members of creation to become “fallen,” each according to their state. The origin of evil in the world, which leads to individual sinful actions, has been best articulated by Evagrius of Pontus.

Evagrius (c. 345-399) was one of the desert fathers of Egypt, and was taught the

25 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life of the Desert Fathers in Fourth-Century Egypt, 197.

26 Xanthias 3.

16 ascetic way of life by Macarius of Alexandria.27 Evagrius developed the notion that all sinful actions stem from the “thoughts” of human beings; however, this not does mean that all thoughts are necessarily evil by nature. The nature of a thought is determined by its origin, and there are five sources from which thoughts can originate. Three of the sources come from within the human person: senses, memory, and temperament. The other two sources are external to the human person and come from either angels or demons.28 Evagrius determined that there are eight generic thoughts from which all other specific evil thoughts stem; he identified them, in ascending order, as: gluttony, lust, avarice, sadness, anger, acedia (despondency), vain-glory, and pride.29 When human beings give consent to one or more these thoughts, “evil grows roots in [them], and it

27 Gabriel Bunge, Despondency: The Spiritual Teaching of Evagrius of Pontus (Yonkers, NY: St. Vladimir's Press, 2012), 11.

28 Bunge, Despondency, 37. Belief in the presence of creatures such as angels and demons may sound antiquated or superstitious to many modern readers, but it is to be noted that both the Latin Church and the Orthodox Church recognize the presence and influence of such creatures in this world. The presence of demons in both eastern and western Christianity is evident by the liturgical use of prayers that acknowledge the existence of such creatures. In the Orthodox Church a prayer written by St. John Chrysostom reads: “O Eternal God, Who has redeemed the race of men from the captivity of the devil, deliver Thy servant/handmaid from all the workings of unclean spirits. Command the evil and impure spirits and demons to depart from the soul and body of Your servant/handmaid and not to remain nor hide in him/her. Let them be banished from this the creation of Thy hands in Thine own Holy Name and that of Thine Only-begotten Son…” In the Latin Church, the prayer to St. Michael the Archangel was commonly said after the conclusion of the Mass, it reads: “St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.”

29 Evagrius, Praktikos, 6.

17 becomes a ‘habitus’ (habit) and then a passion (pathos) of the soul.”30 Passions are selfish distortions of benign or good thoughts, and produce temptations that lead human beings to consent to sinful thoughts or actions.31 The defense in front of such manifestations of evil resides in human beings’ ability to exercise free will, “free will stands opposed to all such machinations in that it decides whether we incline toward good or evil.”32 In addition to the exercise of free will, Evagrius taught that Christians must cultivate virtue in their lives in order to resist the temptations that the eight generic thoughts present.

Each of the virtues that Evagrius offered correlate with one of the eight generic thoughts: temperance, prudence, poverty, joy, forbearance, patience, moderation, and meekness.33

The reality of the fallen world, however, creates a space in which the cultivation of virtue can pose a lifelong challenge. The monks of fourth-century Egypt were intimately aware of the struggle that was necessary to attain virtue and grown in union with God; it was toward this goal that their humble and ascetic lives were forever aimed.

The theological context in which the desert fathers and mothers existed was centered on the relationship between creature and Creator — the finite and the infinite.

They understood that all of creation was formed by God to become transcendent, to live for all eternity in loving union with Him. They believed that sin and suffering was a consequence of the fallen state of the world, yet they remained hopeful in light of God’s mercy. The chapters that are to follow must be considered in light of the theological

30 Bunge, Despondency, 37.

31 Bunge, Despondency, 51-52.

32 Bunge, Despondency, 39.

33 Bunge, Despondency, 41.

18 context that has been defined above, and it is in this context that an accurate understanding of the desert fathers’ and mothers’ love for creation can be cultivated

19 CHAPTER II

THE SPIRITUALITY OF THE DESERT FATHERS AND MOTHERS

Introduction

The spirituality of the desert fathers and mothers cannot be examined as one cohesive “manual” that dictates the manner in which the Christian person is to live out his or her life; it is rather an intertwining web of theological principles and spiritual practices that form a cohesive worldview that molds the mind, body, and soul of those individuals who immerse themselves in its traditions. It is for this reason that it is imperative to examine the spirituality of the desert fathers and mothers in a manner that accounts for the many winding tributaries that flow together to form this spiritual vision.

This chapter will provide an analysis of the threefold spiritual vision of the desert fathers and mothers through an examination of the various spiritual practices and theological principles that formed the core of early Christian monastic life. First, this chapter will examine the nature of the liturgy so that the cosmological destination toward which the desert fathers and mothers oriented their lives may be better understood. Second, the three primary components of the spiritual vision of the desert fathers and mothers (i.e. liturgy, asceticism, and mysticism) will be discussed in detail so as to provide the foundation on which a contemporary ontological ecology can be constructed in chapter

20 three. Last, this chapter will evaluate the numerous interactions between humans and the created world that are portrayed in early Christian monastic literature so that the concrete effects of living out an ontological ecology may be observed. Through the various components of this analysis it will be seen that the intense love and care for the created world that is displayed by early Christian monastics does not stem from some form of ethical reasoning, but instead from the holistic spiritual vision that encompassed every aspect of their lives.

Three Churches, One Liturgy

The spirituality of early Christian monasticism had, at its core, one primary goal: to return to the loving union with God for which human beings were originally created — in other words, the state of life that is most fully human. In order to return to this original state of existence while still in this world the desert fathers and mothers sought to enter into a pure state of prayer in which they could come “face to face” with God.34 In order to enter into this pure state of prayer, they had to achieve a state of spiritual sobriety, or nipsis, which is an awareness of the self and of all creation as inherently interconnected.35

The desert fathers and mothers sought to enter into a state of nipsis through harmonizing the three states in which the Church, or the liturgy, exists.

Early Christian monks understood the entirety of their lives, and all of creation, as inherently liturgical. The liturgical nature of the cosmos in this sense was articulated in

34 Gabriel Bunge, Earthen Vessels: The Practice of Personal Prayer According to the Patristic Tradition, (Ignatius Press, 2002), 11-13.

35 Brock, The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual Worldview of St. Ephrem the Syrian, 44.

21 the late fourth-century Syrian monastic text, The Books of Steps. In Discourse XII, “On the ministry of the hidden and the manifest Church,” the author of the Book of Steps discusses the threefold, cosmic nature of the liturgy.

Since we also know that the body [has] become a hidden temple and the heart a hidden altar for the ministry of the spirit, we should show our eagerness at this visible altar and in this visible temple, so that, as we labour in these, we may have rest for ever in that church in heaven which is free and magnificent, and at that altar which is adorned and exalted in the spirit, before which the angels and all the saints minister...36

This passage reveals the three states in which the liturgy exists: the liturgy of the heart, the visible liturgy of the visible altar, and the unceasing liturgy in heaven; it also demonstrates the manner in which the three liturgies relate to one another.37 The liturgy of the heart is the interiorization of the other two within the human person. In order to understand this interiorization of the liturgy, the true nature of the liturgy and the manner in which it has become interiorized must be discussed.

The word “liturgy” comes from ancient Greek, and in its original context referred to the “public work” (e.g. construction of roads) with which citizens would have been required to assist. In the context of the Jewish and Christian tradition, the word liturgy refers to, “the general rites and offices celebrated by clergy and people… [and] is necessarily social, ordered, and objective.”38 It already appears with this meaning in the early Jewish translation of the scriptures into Greek, the Septuagint (Exodus 39:12; Num

36 Book of Steps, 1.

37 Book of Steps, 2.

38 Alexander Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism: The Experience of God in Eastern Orthodox Christianity,” in Pro Ecclesia VIII.1 (1999), 159.

22 8:22; 16:9; 18:4; 2 Chron 31:2). When the word “liturgy” is understood in light of both its Christian meaning and its historical context, it can be understood in a general sense as the public work of the Church. In its primary function, the liturgy can be understood as a

“re-presenting,” or making present, of the sacred events of the past,39 which in this case are the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Augustine spoke of this reality “in a sermon on Psalm 22...the liturgy ‘makes present what took place in time past...’”40 The sacred events of the past that the liturgy re-presents can be found in the Gospels, and the three Synoptic Gospels present the Transfiguration of Christ as the central event — in a literal sense — of the Gospel story. In these accounts of the Transfiguration, Christ reveals the glory of God to Peter, James, and John — the same glory that was revealed to

Moses on the mountaintop. In English Scriptures, the word “glory” is translated from the

Hebrew word, kabôd, or the Greek word, δόξα. In English, however, “glory” fails to maintain the fullness of its original meaning. Kabôd is understood to have specific mystical connotations based in the ancient Jewish tradition, but the common English definition of the word “glory” does not carry any such connotations.41 In classical Greek, doxa was often translated as “opinion” or “good reputation,” but such a translation fails to portray the “luminous phenomenon characteristic of theophanies” that is implied by

39 Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism,” 162.

40 Robert Louis Wilken, The Spirit of Early Christian Thought (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2003), 31.

41 J.E. Fossum, “Glory,” in Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible, ed. Toorn, K. van der, Bob Becking, and Pieter Willem van der Horst (Boston: Brill; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1999), 348.

23 the Hebrew kabôd.42 Without a basic understanding of the Jewish mystical tradition, the translation of doxa as “glory” does not offer readers a complete picture of the complex implications that would have been understood by the New Testament authors.43 In order to properly read the texts of the New Testament, δόξα should be understood as “a technical term loaded with the Jewish understanding of ‘glory’ [kabôd].”44

If the Transfiguration is understood in light of the mystical connotations that are implied by the word “glory,” then the revelation of God’s glory in the person of Christ has profound implications: “Christ [becomes] the ‘place’ of the divine presence and abiding. He [becomes] the true temple.”45 Christ becomes the place of theophany, which

42 Fossum, “Glory,” 348.

43 Fossum, “Glory,” 348.

44 Fossum, “Glory,” 351. Through an exploration of the word “glory” in the Old Testament, J.E. Fossum puts forth four different ways in which “glory” can be understood in relation to the ancient Jewish mystical traditions. These groups can be labeled in the following manner: “glory” as perceived in the works of God; as a cloud or shadow; in relation to the divine throne located in the Holy of Holies; and as the anthropomorphic deity. Out of these four groups, it is those instances in which doxa is used in reference to the anthropomorphic deity that are of most interest to this work, such as Luke 2:9 and 9:31-32, which refer to the “light characteristic of angelophanies, theophanies, and Christophanies.” This group of verses support Fossum’s argument that states that δόξα can be understood as a reference to the anthropomorphic manifestation of God. Within this category there are two sub-categories of texts — one in which “glory” is used as a noun, and another in which it is used as a verb. There are nine verses that use “glory” as a noun in reference to physical forms, all of which portray the word “glory” as something that is material in form and is visible to certain individuals (Matthew 6:29, 16:27; and Luke 9:26, 9:31, 9:32, 12:27, 17:22, 24:26, 24:49). The second sub-group in this category, which uses the verb “glorify,” contains three verses (John 8:54, 11:4, 17:5). These three verses, in using the verb “glorify” alongside the noun “glory” portray to the reader not only a material form, but also some type of concrete process through which glorification occurs. These verses point to the process of deification as the process through which human beings grow in union with God.

45 Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism,” 164.

24 was previously embodied at the summit of Mt. Sinai, after which it was “enthroned above the ark in the tabernacle and afterwards, in the temple, behind the veil cutting off access to the holy of holies.”46 Through the Son’s incarnation, however, the divine glory became embodied in Jesus Christ, and through his death and resurrection it becomes accessible to all. In the sacrament of baptism, the Holy Spirit transforms the Christian person so that, as St. Paul tells us, “‘with unveiled faces [they] reflect the glory of the Lord, being transfigured in his image from glory to glory’” (2 Corinthians 3:18).47 If Christ is the place of theophany, and Christ dwells within the human heart, the revelation of God’s glory has become interiorized within the human person. This interiorization means that the cosmic reality of the heavenly liturgy exists not only in heaven, but within the human heart as well.

By implication, thus, it is the calling of the Christian to enter and worship before that same Presence…within the holy of holies of the human spirit. To ascend the mount of theophany with Moses is therefore to enter before the inner throne of the heart, there to discover paradise, heaven, within.48

If humans wish to find God, to ascend the mountain and “see” his glory as Moses did on mountaintop and as Peter, James, and John did at the Transfiguration, then they must

46 Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism,” 164.

47 Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism,” 164.

48 Alexander Golitzin, “‘Earthly Angels and Heavenly Men:’ The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, Niketas Stethatos, and the Tradition of 'Interiorized Apocalyptic' in Eastern Christian Ascetical and Mystical Literature,” in Dumbarton Oaks Papers (2001), 145.

25 descend into the depths of their hearts to find the place where Christ dwells within their hearts.

The only way for human beings to ascend this interior mountain of theophany is through the cultivation of the purest form of prayer — the prayer of the heart. The author of the Book of Steps says that,

since we believe that there is a hidden self-emptying of the heart when it leaves the earth and is raised up to heaven, it is right that we should empty ourselves in the body too of our possessions and inheritance. Then we shall be keeping the commandments of him who gives life to all, and we shall realize that the person who is bound up in our Lord and ponders on him continuously possesses hidden prayer of the heart.49

Pure prayer of the heart can only be achieved by charitably renouncing the self and re- centering life in Christ through keeping the commandments of God; in doing so, the human person is free to orient every aspect of his or her life toward God. Abba Moses spoke of this when he said:

If a man’s deeds are not in harmony with his prayer, he labours in vain. The brother said, ‘What is this harmony between practice and prayer?’ The old man said, ‘We should no longer do those things against which we pray. For when a man gives up his own will, then God is reconciled with him and accepts his prayers.’50

Through cultivating a pure prayer of the heart the human person is able to fully

49 Book of Steps, 1. See also, Aphrahat, Demonstration IV: On Prayer, which says, “Purity of heart constitutes prayer more than do all the prayers that are uttered out loud, and silence united to a mind that is sincere is better than the loud voice of someone crying out.” Ephrem of Syria also spoke of this prayer of the heart, but was careful to note that the hiddenness of our prayer must not stifle the visibility of our faith. In no. XX of his Hymns on Faith, Ephrem speaks of prayer as something that is “conceived in the mind and brought to birth in silence,” and faith as that which is to be offered up with the voice.

50 Moses 4.

26 participate in the visible liturgy on earth, which consists of the Church that was established by Christ and the sacramental life that has sprung forth from it. The visible liturgy is the physical manifestation of the Heavenly liturgy, and participation in it allows the human person to perceive and participate in the hidden liturgy of the heart that exists within; therefore, through a cultivation of pure prayer it is possible to harmonize the three levels of the liturgy. If the visible Church and its liturgy is rejected, however, then the perception of the hidden liturgy of the heart — and in turn the harmonization of the three liturgies — becomes impossible.51 Through participation in the sacraments and following

God’s commandments the human person can harmonize the three “levels” of the liturgy and thereby reflect the ultimate reality of the cosmos in his or her being. This pure state of prayer allowed early Christian monastics to perceive the world in which they lived in a new “light”. This purified perception of the world will be discussed in further detail later on in this chapter. The spirituality of early Christian monasticism sought to achieve this purified sight through a threefold, singular vision that consisted of three primary components: liturgy, mysticism, and asceticism — for the monks who cultivated this spirituality, there was no aspect of life that was not encompassed by these three categories.

The Liturgical Practices of the Desert

The first component of the threefold spiritual vision of the desert fathers and mothers that must be discussed is the participation of early Christian monastics in the

51 Book of Steps, 2.

27 liturgical life of the Church. The liturgical life of the Egyptian desert was centered on participation in the sacraments, or mysteries, of the Church. While other sacraments were certainly practiced during the time period of the desert fathers and mothers, it is important to note that references to the monastic participation in the sacraments most often “pertain first and preeminently to the activity of the Church in solemn assembly, i.e., the rites of worship, and especially to the actions of initiation (Baptism) and the blessing of bread and wine (Eucharist).”52 The one exception to this claim is related to the practice of confession. Confession among monastics was, in certain aspects, distinct from confessional practices in the Church as a whole.53 The practice of formal individual confession with a priest was not normative during the time of the desert fathers and mothers, but early Christian monks did confess their sins to a spiritual father or elder.54

Baptism, confession, and the Eucharist formed the core of early Christian monastic liturgical life.

Baptism is the pathway through which individuals enter into the Church (i.e. the one Body of Christ) and it “provides the foundation, the beginning and the continuity of the Christian’s life as member of the new Israel.”55 Through this process the newly baptized Christian is “initiated into Christ’s death and resurrection, ‘dies’ to sin and the

52 Alexander Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism,” 167.

53 H. Dorries Gottingen, “The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism,” in Studia Patristica V, ed. F. L. Cross, (Berlin, 1962), 285.

54 Kevin W. Irwin, The Sacraments: Historical Foundations and Liturgical Theology (New York: Paulist Press, 2016), 78-79.

55 Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism,” 168.

28 ‘old man’ (fallen Adam), and is made alive again in the new Adam.”56 One of the most profound understandings of the sacrament of baptism that originated in the early

Christian monastic tradition comes from Mark the Ascetic, reputed to have lived in the

Egyptian desert in the fifth century, who understood the “entire Christian life as nothing else than the progressive realization — the ‘revelation’, as he terms it — of the grace that we received originally when we were baptized.”57 Mark’s understanding of baptism provides two important points: first, that baptism is the revelation of grace and is, therefore, something that human beings are gifted by God; second, human beings can never add to the grace that they received at baptism — its gift is given in its entirety and only once. In regard to its effect on the baptized person, the complete nature of baptism functions in three distinct manners.

The first function, or effect, of baptism is purification; it washes away all sin.

Mark understood that even if a person was free from individual sin, the sacrament of baptism would still cleanse a person of the “sin of transgression”:

The sacrament of baptism, and it alone, is able to release man from this condition of universal sinfulness. It cleanses man fully and entirely alike from original sin and from all actual and personal sin. After baptism there is nothing left behind, no ‘residue’ from the ‘sin of Adam’.58

The washing away of both original and personal sin clears the path for the second effect of baptism to take place, which is the gift of liberty. The liberty that individuals receive at

56 Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism,” 168.

57 K. T. Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism and the Ascetic Life in the Teaching of Mark the Monk,” in Studia Patristica 10 (1970), 441.

58 Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 443.

29 baptism frees them from the “inclination towards evil” that is inherited from Adam after the fall. It is to be noted, however, that even though the baptized person is freed from his or her ancestral inclination toward sin, he or she still exists “in a moral state of weakness and even enslavement, dominated by the ‘passions of disgrace’”59 The third and final effect of baptism is the divine indwelling of Christ and the Holy Spirit within the human person, and “it is precisely this baptismal indwelling that Mark has in mind when he claims that we can never ‘add’ to the grace of baptism.”60

Mark’s understanding of the divine indwelling that is received by the human person at baptism also supports the concept of interiorized theophany and liturgy that was discussed above. Since there is no higher experience for the Christian person than an

“encounter face to face with the Person of Christ, and this encounter is made possible specifically because Christ is already within our hearts from baptism…, our highest experience, then, is simply the full realization of the initial grace of baptism.”61 In addition, Mark also recognized the distinction between the existence of the divine indwelling and the process of a person “becoming directly and consciously aware” of the presence of God within them.62 Mark argues that the primary goal of the ascetic life is a progressive recognition and activation of the divine indwelling, and this progress can

59 Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 443.

60 Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 444.

61 Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 445.

62 Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 445.

30 only be achieved through living a life in accordance with God’s commandments.63 It is important to note, however, that living out the commandments does not mean that an individual can in any way “‘add’ anything to the grace of baptism, nor...in any sense acquire ‘merit’: the gift of baptismal regeneration is essentially a free gift, and we cannot possibly repay God for it.”64 In addition to the inability of the human person to add to the grace of baptism, it is equally impossible for humans to take away baptismal grace: “no subsequent shortcomings on man’s side can retrospectively impair the plenitude of God’s baptismal gift, although certainly our moral failings after baptism prevent us from experiencing consciously the effects of the sacrament.”65 Once again, the concept of purified sight helps to clarify these conclusions about baptismal grace. Through living out

God’s commandments human beings gain a new perspective through which to understand

God’s revelation in the world, and in regard to baptism this new perspective allows an individual to actively receive God’s revelation that exists within them.66 Contrary to the effects of living a virtuous life, consenting to temptation clouds the spiritual perception of human beings and causes them to be unable to perceive God’s revelation; “holy baptism

63 Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 445-46. Mark’s understanding of the ascetic life also echoes the primary objective discussed above in the Book of Steps — the harmonization of the three “levels” of the liturgy.

64 Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 446. Ware draws this conclusion from Mark’s De his qui putant, 22 (933B), in which he says, “‘We who have been counted worthy of the washing of regeneration do not offer good works by way of repayment...but in order to safeguard the purity conferred upon us.’”

65 Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 449.

66 Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 446.

31 is perfect...but it does not make perfect him who does not perform the commandments.”67

In addition to the effects that baptism has on individuals, it also calls them to carry out a particular function with the Christian community, which is to serve the Church as priests of the kingdom of God.68

The priesthood that is bestowed upon Christians at their baptism is universal to both the laity and the clergy: “all the faithful...exercise a single common priesthood, in addition to which the ordained priest exercises a particular function within the community of the faithful.”69 The tradition of understanding all Christians as members of the universal priesthood stems from Scripture, particularly 1 Peter 2: 4, 5, and 9,70 which state,

4. Come to him, to that living stone, rejected by men but in God’s sight chosen and precious; 5. and like living stones be yourselves built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ… 9. But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

These verses demonstrate two primary implications in regard to the priesthood of the baptized. The first is that the baptized enter into a royal priesthood that serves a particular function within the kingdom of God, which is “to declare God’s wonderful deeds.”

67 De baptismo (985C), quoted in Ware, “The Sacrament of Baptism,” 450.

68 Sebastian Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised: some Syriac perspectives,” in Sobornost (Incorporating Eastern Churches Review) 9, no. 2 (1987), 14. This concept of universal priesthood is of great importance to the discussion on Christian vocation that will take place in chapter three.

69 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 14.

70 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 14.

32 Second, baptized Christians “are to be built into a ‘spiritual house’ [or temple].”71

The status of baptized Christians as members of the royal priesthood is dependent upon the actions of both individuals and the Christian community as a whole, if one or both fail to carry out the functions that are required of baptized persons, then that individual or community cannot be described as “‘acting as a priest for God’s Kingdom.’”72 This notion supports Mark’s distinction between the perfect nature of baptism and the imperfect nature of the baptized person. Understanding the Christian person as a member of the “royal priesthood” has profound implications on the manner in which Christians must live out their lives. Further understanding of these implications can be found in the ancient Syriac Christian tradition.

The Syriac tradition speaks of baptism from a perspective that is based on the relationship between the Genesis account of Adam and the Gospel accounts of Christ.

Ephrem of Syria spoke of Christ as the Second Adam, and “‘through the Second Adam who entered Paradise, everyone has entered it; for through the First Adam who left it, everyone left it.’”73 In this context, Christ is understood as reversing the effects of

Adam’s original sin, which returns all of humanity to the state in which it existed in

Paradise. The Syriac tradition understands this renewed paradisiacal state, which is bestowed at baptism, not as the final state of union between Creator and creature, but as

71 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 14. This understanding once again echoes the claims made in the Book of Steps, which speak of the body as a temple and the heart as a hidden altar.

72 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 15.

73 Ephrem, Hymns on Unleavened Bread xvii.10, quoted in Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 16.

33 an intermediary state that offers the same potential for eternal life that was offered to

Adam and Eve.74

One of the many Jewish traditions that found its way into early Christian thought understood Adam in Paradise as “both king and priest,” which was “sometimes expressed by means of the imagery of the ‘robe of glory/praise with which Adam and Eve were clothed before the Fall, for this robe is, among other things, a priestly and royal robe.”75

If Adam was to serve as a priest in Paradise, and through baptism Christians are once again “clothed” in the priestly garment, then Christians are called to carry out the same priestly functions that Adam was meant to carry out in Paradise. According to 1 Peter

2:5, the primary function of a priest is to “make offerings to the divinity,” and Christians make such offerings in two particular ways: individually and communally.76

The manner in which Christians participate individually in the “royal priesthood” is directly related to the above discussion of interiorized theophany and prayer of the heart. In order for a priest to “make offerings to the deity” there must be some form of altar on which to make such offerings, and early Christians understood this altar to also exist in the heart; therefore, Christians function as priests when they “offer up prayer on

74 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 16.

75 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised: some Syriac perspectives,” 16-17. See also: Sebastian Brock, “Clothing Metaphors as a Means of Theological Expression in Syriac Tradition,” in Typus, Symbol, Allegorie bei den oestlichen Vaetern und ihren Parallelen im Mittelalter, 11-40. (Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 1982), 11-38.; Sebastian Brock, “Jewish Traditions in Syriac Sources,” Journal of Jewish Studies, v. 30, 2 (1979), 221-223; Sebastian P. Brock, The Holy Spirit in Syriac Baptismal Tradition, (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2008), 48-53.

76 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 17.

34 the altar of the heart.”77 Early Syriac writers, particularly Aphrahat, made it clear, however, that an offering of prayer must be “accompanied by purity of heart.”78 This purity of heart, as it was discussed in the previous section, can only be achieved through living a life according to God’s commandments; therefore, the priestly functions that are to be carried out by Christians are directly related to the manner in which they live their lives. The consequence of living an unrepentant life is to dirty the priestly robe that is received at baptism. Since it is this state of royal priesthood that is most natural to human beings (i.e. the state for which humans were originally created in Paradise), failing to perform its functions amounts to living a life that denies the fullness of humanity and creation. Early Christian monks did not live without temptation and at times fell into sin just as any human being does. In order to maintain their ability to function as priests of

God’s Kingdom, early Christian monks participated in the practice of penance and confession in order to aid the cleansing of the “priestly robes” with which they were clothed at baptism.

As mentioned above, the practice of confession among early Christian monastics differed not only from the form of confession in the Church today, but also from confessional practices among other Christian communities of the same time period.79

77 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 18-19. Brock notes that the Greek, Latin, and Syriac fathers all drew this conclusion from the same source: Matthew 6:6, which says, “when you pray, go into your inner chamber and pray to your Father who is in secret.”

78 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised” 19. See also: Aphrahat, Demonstration IV On Prayer; Sebastian Brock, “The Prayer of the Heart in Syriac Tradition,” Sobornost/ECR 4:2 (1982), 131-42.

79 Dorries, “The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism,” 285.

35 During the early centuries of the Church, penance was a rare public affair that was reserved for serious sins that caused scandal among Christian communities (e.g. adultery, murder, blasphemy, etc.). The communal penitential process followed a three-part structure: entry into the order of penitents, a period of penitential life, and reconciliation, usually at the end of Lent. First, individuals who sought forgiveness of their sins entered into the order of penitents under the direction of their bishop, after which they entered into a period of time in which they practiced penitential acts. This period of time lasted anywhere from a few weeks to several decades, and usually consisted of prayer, fasting, and exclusion from the Eucharistic celebration. At the end of this appointed time, penitents were re-admitted into the Christian community.80

The desert fathers and mothers did not, however, understand the practice of confession as a juridical process through which a person was pardoned of individual sinful actions, but rather as a process of healing that aimed to draw individuals into a deeper relationship with God and the community. In order to accomplish this spiritual outcome, early Christian monastics sought not only to admit the times that they committed individual sinful actions, but sought to recognize themselves as sinners before

God: “awareness of the multiplicity of his sins does not suffice; only the unfeigned admission that he stands as a sinner before God brings his prayer into the divine presence.”81 The unique confessional practices of the desert fathers and mothers always

80 German Martinez, Signs of Freedom: Theology of the Christian Sacraments (New York: Paulist Press, 1994), 203-4.

81 Dorries, “The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism,” 287. This was indeed the meaning of Anthony’s statement when he said to Abba Poemen, “This is the great work of a man: always to take the blame for his own sins before God and to expect temptation to his last breath” (Anthony the Great 4).

36 began with this awareness of sin, and was further defined by four additional attributes:

“guidance toward confession, confessional counsel, intercession’” and in some cases a

“testimony of divine forgiveness.”82

The spiritual elders of desert monasticism did not seek to condemn the monks under their care, but instead sought ways to mercifully draw them into the practice of confession. Macarius the Great was said to have become aware of another monk’s sinful actions, and instead of waiting for the monk to confess his sins to him, Macarius sought out the monk in order to aid him.

When he was alone with him the old man [Macarius] asked him, ‘How are you getting on?’ Theopemptus replied, ‘Thanks to your prayers, all goes well.’ The old man asked: ‘Do not your thoughts war against you?’ He replied: ‘Up to now, it is all right,’ for he was afraid to admit anything. The old man said to him, ‘See how many years I have lived as an ascetic, and am praised by all, and though I am old, the spirit of fornication troubles me.’ Theopemptus said, ‘Believe me, abba, it is the same with me.’ The old man went on admitting that other thought still warred against him, until he had brought him to admit them about himself.83

This passage demonstrates the patience and care with which early Christian monks sought to address the sins of others. They did not seek to judge or condemn, but simply to aid the healing process of reconciliation. This was important not only for the confessing monk, but for the elder as well. Early Christian monks understood that an individual’s focus must not be on the sins of others, but on the sins of oneself, for “whoever accepts his sins does not see those of others,”84 and “as long as a man blames himself, he honours

82 Dorries, “The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism,” 291.

83 Macarius the Great 3, paraphrased in Dorries, “The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism,” 288.

84 Moses 16.

37 his brother; but as soon as he himself appears good in his own eyes he will find his brother worse than himself.”85 This personal recognition of sinfulness on the part of the elder allows for confessional counsel to be given from a state of shared, common struggle, rather than from the position of a judge or master.86 Macarius’ story also hints at another important aspect of monastic confession: the articulation of sins. Through speaking of sins, an individual not only admits them to him or herself, but surrenders to the mercy of God. The role of the spiritual elder did not, however, end with the verbal recognition of sin, but continued with the confessional counsel that he or she gave to a repentant monk.

The confessional counsel that monks received from their spiritual elders often came in the form of stricter fasts, increases in prayer, and exclusion from the Eucharist.

The primary difference between monastic practices and ecclesial practices, however, was the length and severity of such impositions. As mentioned above, bishops often imposed penitential periods that were at times decades long, but the spiritual elders of the desert guided their brothers and sisters through a more nuanced penitential system. In regard to the allotted times for penance, the spiritual elders of the desert were more concerned with the sincerity of a monk’s repentance, rather than the severity of the penance that was to be imposed. An example of this perspective can be seen in the following passage about

Abba Poemen.

A brother questioned Abba Poemen saying, ‘I have committed a great sin and I want to do penance for three years.’ The old man said to him, ‘That is a lot.’ The brother said, ‘For one year?’ The old man said again, ‘That is a lot.’ Those who were present said, ‘For forty days?’ He said again, ‘That is a lot.’ He added, ‘I

85 Poemen 148.

86 Dorries, “The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism,” 293.

38 myself say that if a man repents with his whole heart and does not intend to commit the sin any more, God will accept him after only three days.’87

The monk in this story approaches Abba Poemen by admitting that he had sinned greatly, and in accordance with the ecclesial norms of the time period, the monk wishes to do penance for three years. Poemen, in the tradition of desert monasticism, sees that the monk is genuine in his repentance, and therefore provides him with the reassurance of

God’s mercy in a mere three days. Confessional counsel was not, however, limited to simple reassurance of God’s mercy. Other passages display the imposition of greater fasts or increased prayer, but such actions are not done out of punishment — they are means of healing.

The penitential impositions given by spiritual elders often used the practices in which the monks already participated; in the story of Macarius discussed above, he instructs the monk to extend his fast each day in order to aid him in his struggle against certain temptations.88

Then he said, ‘How do you fast?’ He replied, ‘Till the ninth hour.’ ‘Practice fasting a little later; meditate on the Gospel and the other Scriptures, and if an alien thought arises within you, never look at it but always look upwards, and the Lord will come at once to your help.’89

It can be seen in this passage that Macarius is most concerned with helping the monk overcome the temptations that afflict him. The increased fast is paired with meditation and prayer; such actions are meant to help the monk focus his mind not on his past sins or

87 Poemen 12, paraphrased in Dorries, “The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism,” 291.

88 Dorries, “The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism,” 289.

89 Macarius 3.

39 future temptations, but on God’s presence and salvific mercy. This emphasis on the recognition and healing of sin led to the understanding of monastic penance as the conversion of the whole person, not the measurement of and atonement for individual sinful actions. Such an understanding of sinfulness and confession formed monastic communities “not [into] a well-ordered community of high moral requirement, but [into an] association of those who become aware of themselves [as sinners].”90 Through this recognition of sinfulness early Christian monks sought to cultivate the purity of heart that was necessary for them to carry out both the individual and communal functions of the

“royal priesthood.”

The communal aspect of the royal priesthood is centered on the Eucharist, for it is the entire Christian community that offers up the sacrifice of the Body and Blood of

Christ at the altar. In this way, the Christian community functions as a priest in two ways: “firstly, it makes the offering (the ordained priest enabling it to do so). Secondly, it partakes fully in consuming the offering or sacrifice.”91 Early Christian monks understood participation in the Eucharist as the center of their spiritual lives. The greatest influence on the monastic understanding of the Eucharist came from a man who was, in fact, not a monk himself. Ephrem of Syria (c. 306-373) never lived as a hermit or monk, but served the early Church amidst the wider Christian community — in modern terminology, he could perhaps be referred to as a pastoral minister. He spent most of his time writing hymns, or “teaching songs,” that were used during the celebration of the

90 Dorries, “The Place of Confession in Ancient Monasticism,” 293.

91 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 20.

40 liturgy. It was in these “teaching songs” that much of Ephrem’s understanding of the

Eucharist can be found.92

Ephrem referred to the Eucharist in his native Syriac language with the word

Qûrbānâ, which most closely translates to “sacrificial offering” — which Ephrem understood as related to “the Jewish Passover, and to the sacrifice of Christ on the cross, commemorated at the Last Supper, and in its sacramental representation in the daily liturgies of the churches.”93 This connection between Passover, the Last Supper, and the

Crucifixion is clearly demonstrated in the following hymn:

He broke the bread with his own hands in token of the sacrifice of his body. He mixed the cup with his own hands, in token of the sacrifice of his blood. He offered up himself in sacrifice, the priest of our atonement.94

This hymn speaks of the Last Supper and makes the correlation between the breaking of the bread at Passover and Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. Ephrem often emphasized in his hymns the “prefigurations of the Eucharist in the New Testament, and the numerous

92 Sidney H. Griffith, “Spirit in the Bread; Fire in the Wine: The Eucharist as ‘Living Medicine’ in the Thought of Ephraem the Syrian,” in Modern Theology 15:2 (April 1999), 226. On page 227, Griffith makes an interesting point regarding the use of Ephrem’s “teaching songs” during the celebration of the liturgy, which discusses the fact that Ephrem encouraged women “take their rightful place in the church’s choirs.” Griffith cites Jacob of Sarug, who rhetorically stated, “Your teaching opened the closed mouth of the daughters of Eve, and now the congregations of the glorious [church] resound with their voices. It is a new sight that women would proclaim the Gospel, and now be called teachers in the churches.”

93 Griffith, “Spirit in the Bread; Fire in the Wine,” 229.

94 Edmund Beck, Des heiligen Ephraem des Syrers Paschahymnen, De Azymis, II:7 (De azymis, De Crucifixione, De Resurrectione) (CSCO, vols. 248 and 249; Louvain: Peeters, 1964), quoted in Griffith, “Spirit in the Bread; Fire in the Wine,” 230.

41 types and symbols of it in the narratives of the Old Testament.”95

The Eucharist, for Ephrem, is what unites Christians to Christ through the Church; this understanding is not, however, simply based upon the concept of sharing a common

“meal,” but is conceived of as a mingling of Christ’s body with the Church.

In a novel way, his body is kneaded into our bodies. Even his pure blood is poured into our arteries. His voice is in our ears, his appearance in our eyes. By reason of his compassion, all of him is kneaded into all of us. And since he loved his church very much, he did not give her the Manna of her rival—he became himself the living bread for her to eat.96

This unification of Christ with the Church is not merely symbolic, but indeed implies that the Eucharist is truly the presence of Christ’s body, soul, and divinity in the world. In addition to joining Christ to the Church, the Eucharist is also the “place” in which the three “levels” of the cosmic liturgy become united with one another. It is for this reason that the Eucharist must be understood as an offering of the entire cosmos to God. The understanding of such a claim can begin with Paul’s writing in Colossians 1:15-20.

He is the image of the invisible God, the first-born of all creation; for in him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the first-born from the dead, that in everything he might be pre-eminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross

In these verses Paul speaks of the relationship between Christ and creation, which certainly has numerous theological implications and interpretations, but in this context

95 Griffith, “Spirit in the Bread; Fire in the Wine,” 230.

96 Edmund Beck, Des heiligen Ephraem des Syrers Hymnen de Virginitate (CSCO, vols. 223 and 224; Louvain, Peeters, 1962), XXXVII:2. quoted in Griffith, “Spirit in the Bread; Fire in the Wine,” 230-31.

42 provides the foundation for understanding the interconnectedness of creation in the Body of Christ. The interconnectedness of creation is further emphasized when it is understood that there is only one Eucharistic moment, which is actualized on the altar at different specific moments in history.97 The historical actualization of the eternal nature of the

Eucharist must be considered in light of understanding a concept that is implicit in much of Ephrem’s poetry: the distinction between ordinary (historical) and sacred time.

“Ordinary time is linear and each point in time knows a ‘before’ and an ‘after’.

Sacred time, on the other hand, knows no ‘before’ and ‘after’, only the ‘eternal now’...”98

It is from within the context of sacred time that the Eucharist can be properly understood as occurring only once in the “eternal now,” whereas it is in historical time that the

Eucharist is experienced repeatedly throughout the history of the Church. Such an understanding reveals the interconnectedness of creation in the sense that the Body of

Christ in the Eucharist consists of one eternal and complete body, yet all people throughout all the ages can enter into that same body at different points in history, thus connecting themselves to Christ and to all of creation. In order to genuinely experience the “eternal now” present in the Eucharist, human beings must strive to carry out both the individual and communal functions of their royal priesthood in accordance with God’s will.

The individual and communal functions of the royal priesthood can be understood as related to one another when considered in the light of the previous discussion on the

97 Griffith, “Spirit in the Bread; Fire in the Wine,” 231.

98 Brock, The Luminous Eye: The Spiritual World Vision of Ephrem of Syria (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1992), 29.

43 harmonization of the three liturgies within the Christian person; therefore, to harmonize the three liturgies of the Church and “grow in the Christian life is to activate the priestly role given at baptism and to learn how to see the created world as a sacrament.”99 Human beings are not, however, the only entity that participates in this cosmic liturgy; all of creation prays unceasingly in its natural state. The acknowledgement of this cosmic participation in the liturgy is attested to both in Scripture and in the liturgical rites of the

Church; Daniel 3:57-88 contains the following canticle, which expresses this concept quite clearly.

Bless the Lord, all you works of the Lord. Sun and moon, bless the Lord. Stars of heaven, bless the Lord. Every shower and dew, bless the Lord. All you winds, bless the Lord. Fire and heat, bless the Lord. Cold and chill, bless the Lord. Dew and rain, bless the Lord. Frost and chill, bless the Lord. Ice and snow, bless the Lord. Nights and days, bless the Lord. Light and darkness, bless the Lord. Lightning and clouds, bless the Lord. Let the earth bless the Lord. Mountains and hills, bless the Lord. Everything growing on earth, bless the Lord. You springs, bless the Lord. Seas and rivers, bless the Lord. You dolphins and all water creatures, bless the Lord. All you birds of the air, bless the Lord. All you beasts, wild and tame, bless the Lord. All you mortals, bless the Lord...100

This ancient acknowledgement of creation’s function in the cosmic liturgy has been

99 Brock, “The priesthood of the baptised,” 20.

100 Daniel 3: 57-88. For sake of brevity, this passage has been abbreviated by removing verses 58-61 and the repeated phrase, “praise and exalt him above all forever.”

44 carried on by the Church in its liturgical rites even to this day.

You are indeed Holy, O Lord, and all you have created rightly gives you praise, for through your Son our Lord Jesus Christ, by the power and working of the Holy Spirit, you give life to all things and make them holy, and you never cease to gather a people to yourself, so that from the rising of the sun to its setting a pure sacrifice may be offered to your name.101

This section comes from the “Eucharistic Prayer III” of The Roman Missal, and speaks both of the sacredness of creation and its participation in the cosmic liturgy. In chapter four, the profound implication of creation’s role in the cosmic liturgy will be discussed in further detail; however, for the time being it can be summarized as: in failing to care for creation, human beings harm their ability to participate in the cosmic liturgy. When humans destroy an element of creation, whether it is living or inanimate, they destroy a

“priest” that, through its very existence, praises its Creator without ceasing. This concept is not something that the desert fathers and mothers would have concluded simply based upon ethical reasoning, but rather it was the natural outpouring of their love as a result of the liturgical tradition discussed above and the ascetic life that shall be discussed next.

A Life of Asceticism

The desert fathers and mothers are perhaps the quintessential example of

Christian asceticism. The ascetic life is centered on three distinct stages, which were articulated by Evagrius, arguably the most eloquent fourth century monastic of the

101 The Roman Missal (International Commission on English in the Liturgy Corporation, 2010), 108.

45 Egyptian desert, who in turn used for the development of this concept the works of

Origen and Plotinus. Evagrius understood the present state of creation as a product of both “a fall from an original universe of created spirits, and as the result of divine providence exercised on behalf of the fallen.”102 Although creation fell from the spiritual existence for which it was originally created, God did not leave His beloved creation as an orphan banished from his care; the created world may have been ontologically distinct from God, but at the same time it is imbued with him. The world, in its present state, acts as a “schoolbook or lesson plan” and “as a sacrament” that presents human beings with the opportunity to learn of God’s nature:

The fallen spirits are called on to do their lessons by ascending the stages of the ascetic life: first by mastering the passions of the body and soul, then by contemplating the divine plan inscribed in the worlds, and finally, stripped of every concern for the body and distraction of the intellect, by receiving as sanctified vessels the uncreated light of the Trinity.103

Creation contains the fullness of God’s revelation to humanity, but in order to apprehend revelation as it exists in this state human beings must become masters of their passions so that they may clear away the veil of sin that blinds the eyes of the heart from seeing

God’s presence in creation.104 It is this clarity of “sight,” or sobriety, that is the primary goal of the ascetic life, the end of which is “to rule ‘rationally’ over the irrational powers of the soul and finally to leave behind also the dispassionate, ‘simple’ thoughts in order to

102 Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism,” 175.

103 Golitzin, “Liturgy and Mysticism,” 175.

104 Ephrem also speaks of this spiritual vision, which will be discussed in greater detail in the proceeding section.

46 go ‘immaterially to the Immaterial.’”105 In order to accomplish such a seemingly monumental task the desert fathers and mothers cultivated a form of ascetic life that proved fruitful in their quest to transcend the temporal life of this world in exchange for an eternal and divine life with God and creation in Paradise. This section will discuss the main aspects of the ascetic lifestyle that was common among the desert fathers and mothers.

The daily lives of the desert fathers and mothers were not set by modern, clock- defined schedules, but were defined by the movement of the cosmos itself; their lifestyle was defined by a continuous rhythm determined by Creation and internal struggles, as can be seen in the following passage about Abba Anthony.

When the holy Abba Anthony lived in the desert he was beset by accidie [despondency], and attacked by many sinful thoughts. He said to God, 'Lord, I want to be saved but these thoughts do not leave me alone; what shall I do in my affliction? How can I be saved?' A short while afterwards, when he got up to go out, Anthony saw a man like himself sitting at his work, getting up from his work to pray, then sitting down and plaiting a rope, then getting up again to pray. It was an angel of the Lord sent to correct and reassure him. He heard the angel saying to him, 'Do this and you will be saved.' At these words, Anthony was filled with joy and courage. He did this, and he was saved.106

The early monastic lifestyle was defined by a continuous rhythm of prayer, work, and meditation.107 The monks’ personal prayer lives consisted mainly of reciting psalms and prayers of penance.108 Monks would alternate between prayer and manual labor, which

105 Bunge, Despondency, 40. See also: Evagrius, Chapters on Prayer, 6 and 56- 58; Gnostikos, 2.

106 Anthony 1.

107 Regnault, The Day-to-Day, 97.

108 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 107.

47 usually consisted of basket weaving, making rope, and a small number of educated monks practiced the art of calligraphy.109 Even while the monks worked, they never took their minds completely off God’s presence. Monks would often recite passages of

Scripture from memory while working so that they could constantly focus their entire being on the mystery of God’s love.110 In addition to personal prayer, monks who lived in monastic communities — or journeyed from their hermitages to a nearby community — would gather once a week so that they could participate in the celebration of the Liturgy.

In addition to their prayer life, early Christian monks lived a life of simplicity and poverty, which dictated where they lived, the way that they dressed, and the amount of food and sleep they allowed themselves to have.

The blessed Synkletike was asked whether poverty was a perfectly good thing. “It is a very good thing for those who are capable of it,” she replied, “for they who endure it are inflicted in the flesh but are at rest in the soul. Just as stiff garments are washed and whitened by being trodden on and vigorously twisted, so the strong soul also gains in strength through voluntary indigence.111

Here we are given a perspective from one of the desert mothers. She informs her inquirer that poverty is the means by which struggle and sacrifice strengthen the soul. She does, however, make one important distinction: if a life of poverty is to benefit an individual, it must be poverty that a person takes upon him or herself voluntarily. To suffer from the fallenness of this world is something that all human beings experience, but to choose to

109 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 102.

110 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 102-03.

111 Synkletike 5.

48 suffer so as to rid the body of its temporal needs in exchange for that which is eternal is the true nature of monastic poverty.

The habitat in which early Christian monastics lived was not arbitrary to their spiritual lives. The early Christian monks did not seek ideal conditions in which they could peacefully contemplate the divine; they sought out hardship and suffering in order to participate in the love and sacrifice of the crucified Christ.112 The deserts of Egypt,

Syria, and Palestine offered monks both the solitude and the hardship that they sought.

Living in such harsh conditions did not, however, prompt the monks to shield themselves from the harsh desert conditions with adequate shelter. Early monastic dwellings were very simple, and often utilized natural elements of the environment such as caves.

Dwellings were normally built far away from non-monastic communities, and from sources of food and water. The locations of dwellings were chosen to enhance the hardships that the monks desired.113

In addition to simple living conditions, the monks also chose to wear very simple clothing.114 As early as the middle of the fourth century, monks adopted special garments to signify their state in life, which included a simple tunic that was covered with a scapular and cinched with a belt.115 Monks often sought to wear garments that were not too fine or too poor, as either extreme would attract attention and become a temptation

112 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 8-10.

113 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 42-44.

114 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 51-52.

115 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 54.

49 for vanity. Not only were monastic garments simple, but it was normal for monks to only own one set so that they would possess nothing more than was necessary.116 Along with their simple clothing, monks tried to minimize the amount of time that they had to spend tending to their bodies, so it was the norm to leave both hair and beards untrimmed.117

Early Christian monks also took great care to limit the amount of food that they ate. While there are some accounts of extended fasts — some as extreme as forty days with no food or drink — these are exceptions to the norm. Normal practices varied between individuals, but the most common practice was to eat two small loaves of dried bread every two days. According to John Cassian, a fourth century monk who received his monastic initiation and education with the fourth century fathers and mothers of the

Egyptian desert, eating one meal a day became the normative practice before the end of the fourth century. As a general rule, the monks always sought to take what was necessary, but never be satisfied.118 Amma Synkletike, in her wisdom, speaks to the importance of fasting.

She also said, “Do not let the delight in worldly wealth delude you into thinking it is of any use. They esteem the art of cooking for their pleasure, but you transcend their plentiful supply of victuals by fasting and cheap commodities, for the Scripture says, ‘The soul abundantly supplied makes a joke of honeycomb’ [Prov 27:7]. Do not stuff yourself with bread, and you will not long for wine.119

When human beings consume food until they are content, they do not feed the needs of their stomachs but the passions of their heart. In giving consent to the passions that lead

116 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 57.

117 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 59-60.

118 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 60-79.

119 Synkletike 4.

50 to gluttony, individuals allow their desires to grow; just as a fire grows in accordance with the wood that is placed upon it, the passions of the heart are fed by vice. It is for this reason — to gain control over the passions that lead to sin — that early Christian monastics took a great deal of care in regard to their ascetic practices related to fasting.

This immediate spiritual goal was not the only, nor even the primary, effect that fasting had for early Christian monks; the primary, and in a sense, cosmological, effect of fasting is the restoration of Paradise within this temporal realm of the world. In the sayings attributed to Abba Macarius the Egyptian there exists a profound example of this paradisiacal restoration.

One day Macarius the Egyptian went from Scetis to the mountain of Nitria for the offering of Abba Pambo. The old men said to him, ‘Father, say a word to the brethren.’ He said, ‘I have not yet become a monk myself, but I have seen monks. One day when I was sitting in my cell, my thoughts were troubling me, suggesting that I should go to the desert and see what I could see there. I remained for five years, fighting against this thought, saying, perhaps it comes from the demons. But since the thought persisted, I left for the desert. There I found a sheet of water and an island in the midst, and the animals of the desert came to drink there. In the midst of these animals I saw two naked men, and my body trembled, for I believed they were spirits. Seeing me shaking, they said to me, ‘Do not be afraid, for we are men.’ Then I said to them, ‘Where do you come from, and how did you come to this desert?’ They said, ‘We come from a monastery and having agreed together, we came here forty years ago. One of us is an Egyptian and the other a Libyan.’ They questioned me and asked me, ‘How is the world? Is the water rising in due time? Is the world enjoying prosperity?’ I replied it was, then I asked them, ‘How can I become a monk?’ They said to me, ‘If you do not give up all that is in the world, you cannot become a monk.’ I said to them, But I am weak, and I cannot do as you do. So they said to me: If you cannot become like us, sit in your cell and weep for your sins.’ I asked them, ‘When the winter comes are you not frozen? And when the heat comes do not your bodies burn?’ They said, ‘It is God who has made this way of life for us. We do not freeze in winter, and the

51 summer does us no harm.’ ‘That is why I said that I have not yet become a monk, but I have seen monks.’120

There are several things within this passage that are of great importance. First, is the humility and self-awareness displayed by Macarius. Humility is one of the greatest virtues, as “John the Theban said, ‘Before all else, the monk ought to practice humble- mindedness, for it is the first commandment of the Savior, saying, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’”121 In his humble-mindedness, Macarius recognizes that he has not yet achieved the state of holiness for which he is called, and therefore does not consider himself a true monk. He has, however, encountered true monks, and in his recollection of that meeting it can be seen that for those who have united themselves with God through a contemplative and ascetic life Paradise is restored while still living in the world. There are four distinct attributes discussed in the narrative above that lead the reader to conclude that Paradise has indeed been restored for the two monks in the story. First, Macarius states that they were naked, which was the natural state of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Second, he describes the monks’ physical appearance as being similar to spirits. As it was discussed in chapter one, the natural state of the human body in Paradise was not covered in the mortal second nature that human beings have today. Before the first humans were clothed in this mortal nature, their bodies were “so simple that [they were] in reality transparent, open to the material creation without resisting it in any way, and without the world offering any resistance to the body — the world had been surrendered to it.”122 This natural state of Paradise

120 Macarius the Great 2.

121 John of the Cells 2. 122 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 53.

52 explains the third and fourth attributes cited in Macarius’ story: the two monks lived in harmony with animals and their bodies were not at odds with the elements of creation.

The paradisiacal state that these two monks exhibit is the primary effect of the mystical experiences that are produced by living the liturgical and ascetic way of life that has been discussed in this chapter thus far.

Mysticism in the Desert

Mysticism is not so much something that early Christian monks practiced, but something that they experienced; it was the experience of God’s presence in the world, which served to draw all of creation back into the loving union with His Divinity. God crosses the ontological gap between Creator and creature in order to reveal Himself to humanity. God accomplishes this through the use of types and symbols, which are contained in the books of Creation and Scripture. In order to observe the hidden meanings that lie in the types and symbols of Creation and Scripture, it is vital that the observer is illuminated by wonder and faith.123 That which is illuminated is the “inner eye of the soul.” This inner eye is much like a mirror made of metal, it must be “polished” in order to reflect a pure image and only once it is polished it can do so. Once this new spiritual vision is cultivated, it can be used as a “key of faith” to unlock the hidden meanings of Creation and Scripture.124 Through this new found sight, human beings can continue to nourish the faith, which brought them to this purified sight to begin with,

123 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 61-71.

124 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 78.

53 through unceasing praise of God; this most genuine form of praise is “an outgrowth of our sense of wonder.”125 One of the many particular “truths” that can be experienced in perceiving the world through this “luminous eye of faith” relates to the interconnectedness of all creation. It was discussed above that all creation is united together in the one Body of Christ through the Eucharist; while this conclusion can be made based upon intellectual analysis of Ephrem’s work — as it was done above — this reality can only be truly experienced through living a sacrificial and contemplative life that has as its goal the mystical vision that results from the gift of the “luminous eye of faith.” In his Hymns on Paradise, Ephrem speaks of this reality, saying:

The keys of doctrine which unlock all of Scripture’s books, have opened up before my eyes the book of creation, the treasure house of the Ark, the crown of the Law. This is a book which, above its companions, has in its narrative made the Creator perceptible and transmitted His actions; it has envisioned all His craftsmanship, made manifest His works of art.126

Through the cultivation of a life lived according to God’s will, Ephrem was endowed with purified sight, through which he could perceive God through the embodiment of

God in creation. In addition to perceiving God in creation, “the existence of these hidden symbols thus provides a cohesive substructure of strands linking and connecting every

125 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 78.

126 Ephrem, Hymns on Paradise, 6:1.

54 part of creation.”127 Perceiving all elements of creation as connected with one another and with God transforms creation into a sacrament through which human beings can grow in union with God. Early Christians understood this unitive process within the context of deification.

Deification is the process by which finite material beings come to partake in — or take on the attributes of —God. This concept can be found throughout the New

Testament (Col 1:15, 1:28, 2:10; Eph 3:17 and 4:13; 1 Cor 2:16), but is often misunderstood as a simple command to imitate the actions of Christ. When the above passages of Scripture are read in light of the theological context that has been discussed thus far, it becomes clear that, “St. Paul does not do so for reasons of external piety and sentiment; he speaks ontologically. He is not advocating an external imitation or a simple ethical improvement but a real Christification.”128 Deification is not simple imitation of

Christ, but is an existential process through which human beings grow in union with God.

This concept is inherently related to the above discourse on Christ’s archetypal presence in creation. The desert fathers and mothers traced not only the origin of their existence to

Christ, but also their salvific destination. One desert Mother, Amma Theodora, responded to a question regarding the nature of human salvation in the following way:

Another of the old men questioned Amma Theodora saying, ‘At the resurrection of the dead, how shall we rise?’ She said, ‘As pledge, example, and as prototype we have him who died for us and is risen, Christ our God.’129

Christians must look toward Christ’s resurrection and ascension to understand the manner

127 Brock, The Luminous Eye, 56.

128 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 39.

129 Theodora 10.

55 and form in which human beings will be resurrected by God at the end of time. As humans grow closer to God they become “gods” without threatening God’s uniqueness.

One of the most common characteristics of deification that can be seen in the monastic literature of fourth-century Egypt is the glorification of the human body.

Depictions of light and the glory of God are one of the most common attributes of glorification that are mentioned in the alphabetical collection of The Sayings of the

Desert Fathers. Two of the most prominent examples comes from Abba Pambo:

There was a monk named Pambo and they said of him that he spent three years saying to God, 'Do not glorify me on earth.' But God glorified him so that one could not gaze steadfastly at him because of the glory of his countenance.130

In another account,

They said of Abba Pambo that he was like Moses, who received the image of the glory of Adam when his face shone. His face shone like lightning and he was like a king sitting on his throne. It was the same with Abba Silvanus and Abba Sisoes.131

In the first passage, it can be seen that because of Abba Pambo’s humility, God gifts him with the physical attributes that often associated with theophany or Christification, which are often understood as being luminous — such as in the second passage, which says that his face “shone like lightning.” The second passage reveals an additional item of interest that is related to the above discussion on Christ’s archetypal role in creation. Abba

Pambo is not only glorified, but is said to have “received the image of the glory of

130 Pambo 1.

131 Pambo 12.

56 Adam.”132 The presence of this passage supports the claim that the desert fathers and mothers understood the salvific process of deification to be restorative — that those who are deified are returned to a state that was natural to the first humans in Paradise.

Living as Creation

Early Christian monastics did not seek to live in the deserts of Egypt, Syria, and

Palestine as guests in a place to which they did not belong, but sought to live as members of creation — separated from nothing in the place that they lived. Among those men and women who entered the desert in an attempt to grow in union with God, there were many who succeeded in cultivating a harmonious existence with all of creation, which can be attributed to the restoration of paradise that resulted from living out the holistic spirituality that has been discussed thus far in this chapter. In order to observe the various examples of this harmony with creation, this section will briefly analyze the human- environment interactions that can be found throughout early Christian monastic literature.

The various encounters that take place between monks and animals in early

Christian monastic literature can be organized into three categories: “occasional encounters, mutual goods or services, and peaceful or conciliatory cohabitation.”133 The first type of interactions are those that happen through the normal course of daily life in the wilderness. Monks often came into contact with animals, just as most people do, but it was the manner in which they responded to these encounters that is of great importance.

132 Andrei Orlov, “Vested with Adam's Glory: Moses as the Luminous Counterpart of Adam in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Macarian Homilies,” in “Mémorial Annie Jaubert (1912—1980)” Xristianskij Vostok 4.10 (2002). 133 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 197.

57 A common reaction among early monks to encountering dangerous animals, was to either flee — as to avoiding being harmed, nor doing harm in return — or to chastise the animal for its violent behavior.134

Once when a hippopotamus was ravaging the neighboring countryside the farmers called on this father to help them. He stood at the place and waited, and then he sat the beast, which was of enormous size, he commanded it in a gentle voice, saying, ‘In the name of Jesus Christ I order you not to ravage the countryside anymore.’ The hippopotamus, as if driven away by an angel, vanished completely from that district. On another occasion, he got rid of a crocodile in the same way.135

Encounters such as this demonstrate the power over animals and the peaceful relationship with creation that was possessed by the holiest monks of the desert — for the monk was able to aid the farmers who asked for his assistance, and at the same time cause no harm to the animal. There are instances, however, in which monks cause harm to animals out of necessity, but it is important to remember that the harmonious relationship exhibited by some monks was not attained by simply entering into monastic life — it was the mystical effect of a lifelong journey oriented toward eternal union with God.

Other stories found in early monastic literature speak of the mutual goods and services that were shared among the monks and animals; one story in particular is especially profound in this regard.

Another time, they say, Macarius was praying in his cave in the desert. There happened to be another cave nearby which was the den of a hyena. While he was at prayer the hyena suddenly appeared and began to lick his feet. And taking him gently by the hem of his tunic, she drew towards her own cave. He followed her saying, ‘I wonder what this animal wants to do?’ When she had led him to her own cave, she went in and brought out to him her own cubs, which had been born blind. He prayed over them and returned them to the hyena with their sight

134 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 198-99.

135 Bes 3.

58 healed. She in turn, by way of a thank-offering, brought the man the huge skin of a large ram and laid it at his feet. He smiled at her as if at a kind and sensitive person, and taking the skin, spread it under him. This skin is still in the possession of one of the brothers.136

There are several items of great interest within this story. The first is the peacefulness of the encounter. As was mentioned above, the spiritual life lived by early Christian monks cultivated in their actions and attitudes a genuine restoration of paradise, which allowed monks to live in harmony with creation as Macarius does in this story. The goal of this spiritual life, as it has been mentioned several times, is a state of spiritual sobriety (nipsis) in which one is granted a new purified sight through which to perceive the world. In light of this, it is significant that this story begins with mentioning that Macarius was “at prayer” when the hyena came to him. It is possible that the author of the story was simply stating that Macarius was saying prayers in the general sense, but it is also possible that the author intended to imply that Macarius was in a state of pure prayer, a state of nipsis.

If the latter is true, then this story supports the notion that entering into a pure state of prayer restores the human-environment relationships that are natural to Paradise. It is not only Macarius’ actions, however, that imply such a restoration. The hyena herself appears to exhibit a sense of faith in Macarius ability to heal her cubs, just as numerous individuals in the Gospels are motivated by their faith to seek out Jesus in order for their loved ones to be healed. This harmonious state of life for the desert monks did not only consist of occasional exchanges such as the one seen above, but culminated with living life in a constant state of interconnected with all of creation.

Monks who grew in holiness over the course of their lives did not grow apart

136 Macarius 15-16.

59 from the places in which they lived, rather they seemed to become a part of them — to live as though they themselves were one with the animals and the environment, that is, to act out the interconnectedness of all things. Monks who entered into this state of life were held in the highest regard, and were revered by even other holy men and women. One monk, Abba Theon, was known to live a life that was as natural as any animal of the desert.

He ate vegetables but only those that did not need to be cooked. They say that he used to go out of his cell at night and keep company with the wild animals, giving them to drink from the water which he had. Certainly one could see the tracks of antelope and wild asses and gazelle and other animals near his hermitage. These creatures delighted him always.137

Not only did Abba Theon live in peace with the animals of the desert, but he lived like one himself; he only ate food that was provided by the earth — just like the antelope and gazelle with which he spent his nights.

There are numerous other stories that demonstrate similar relationships, but they all speak to the same understanding that was held in common by early Christian monks, which is, “that the saints, through their submission to God and their humility, share the privilege of Adam in the Garden of Eden before the fall.”138

137 Theon 4.

138 Regnault, The Day-to-Day Life, 206.

60 CHAPTER III

BUILDING AN ONTOLOGICAL ECOLOGY

Introduction

In chapter two we discussed the various aspects of the spirituality of early

Christian monasticism, and the effect of that spirituality on the relationship between early

Christian monks and the environment in which they lived. With this foundation in mind, we will now explore the ways in which this early monastic spirituality can be revitalized in the contemporary Church, and the possible influence such a revitalization may have on the contemporary Christian response to climate change. Attempting to revitalize a spirituality that is rooted in a place and time that is foreign to us today is a complex task, and is one that requires several areas of exploration before a complete understanding of the task at hand can emerge.

First, we will examine the universal vocation that exists at the heart of early monastic spirituality. It is this universal vocation that makes it possible for Christians from numerous temporal and spiritual contexts to travel on the same spiritual path.

Second, we will discuss the theological principles and spiritual practices that can be drawn from early Christian monastic spirituality and applied in our daily lives. This discussion will form the foundation for a contemporary ontological ecology and will be

61 constructed in the likeness of the threefold, singular, spiritual vision of the desert fathers and mothers (i.e. liturgy, asceticism, and mysticism).

Just as it was for the spiritual life of the desert fathers and mothers, the goal of a contemporary ontological ecology is to cultivate a spiritual life in which we can hope to harmonize the threefold cosmic liturgy so that we may be gifted with a “luminous eye of faith” through which we can perceive all of creation in light of God’s uncreated glory.

Traveling through this spiritual journey will allow us to see all of creation as a sacrament through which we can grow in union with God, thus allowing us to live in harmony with all of creation, both in this temporal life and for eternity in Paradise.

A Universal Vocation

There is no single mold from which all Christians are made; we are as diverse as we are many, and it is because of this that any spirituality that is to be successfully implemented among large portions of the Christian community must necessarily be dynamic in nature. The complexities that exist in the application of a spiritual tradition become even greater when the different states of life in the Church (i.e. lay and religious) are considered in addition to the unique character of individual Christians. Such differences, however, are not cause for rejecting the revitalization of early Christian monastic spirituality; for even in the face of great diversity, there exists among us a universal vocation in God’s kingdom — the vocation of the “true monk.”

Within the context of early Christian monasticism, vocation has a universal meaning. As it was discussed in chapter one, the destination of the human person is determined by the origin in which humanity was created (i.e. in the image of God), and

62 “from this creation ‘in the image of God’ it follows that the most essential thing about man is that he is intrinsically in relation to God (Augustine)... Yet this relation is not static…but rather living, dynamic, and fully realized only through becoming.”139 This process of “becoming” entails orienting oneself toward God’s presence, which in its purest form exists in prayer — “in those moments when the person at prayer ‘seeks the face of God’ and asks that the Lord might ‘let his face shine’ upon him.”140 This orientation toward God’s presence in prayer defines the vocation that is shared by all

Christians.

...there can only be one Christian vocation. Lay people and monks do not each have their own ‘spirituality,’ and the Holy Spirit, whom they all received at baptism, is one. The enemies and adversaries of the Christian are the same at all times no matter how well they disguise themselves. Victory will be gained also in the same manner, even when at first sight lay people and monks do not always put the same means into action.141

As Christians, no matter our state in life, we share a single spiritual vocation because we all share the same humanity that was gifted to us by God. The passions and demons that assault us are the same, and the manner in which we overcome these demons through

God’s grace is the same as well. Whether we live as monastics or among the laity, our vocation is the same; we are called to grow in love and union with God so that we may

139 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 12.

140 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 12-13.

141 Bunge, Despondency, 33.

63 return to the Paradise for which we were originally created, so that we may grow in union with God for all eternity.

Since our origin is in God, when we come “face to face” with God in prayer we come to know ourselves and our human nature as it was intended by God at the beginning of time. If we fail to fulfill the goal of this universal vocation in our lives, then we fail not only to know God, but to know ourselves. The less we know God in our lives, the less capable we are of knowing the full potential of our own humanity. Through this detachment of our personhood from the divine image in which we were created, we also fail to acknowledge the presence and work of the Evil One in our world. When our lives are no longer tethered to God, we perceive the shackles of evil as unfortunate accidents of the universe — instead of Satan’s binds, which have indeed already been shattered by

Christ. Through denying both God and Evil, we bind ourselves to the chaos of this world.142

The desert fathers and mothers sought to leave behind the chaos of sin through the cultivation of their spiritual lives, “which manifested an extremely alert and sober awareness of their own personal gravitas and responsibility. The struggle against the demons is basically a struggle for the integrity of their own person against any type of distortion through vice”143 and this integrity reflected on the world, made for “integral” relations with the world. Overcoming the passions that lead us to sin does not raise us to some superhuman level of spiritual might, but in fact returns us to a state in which we are

142 Bunge, Despondency, 28-29.

143 Bunge, Despondency, 32.

64 our most human. The desert fathers and mothers accomplished this task through the implementation of various spiritual practices that dictated how they lived every moment of their lives. Such practices included living a life of solitude and simplicity, fasting, unceasing prayer, and silence. These practices, while often are thought of as belonging to the realm of formal monastic life, are in fact derived “from the writings of the New

Testament and are therefore required of all Christians.”144 Since our vocation as

Christians today is the same as it was for the desert fathers and mothers centuries ago, we can rightly learn how to live out our lives in this manner through a revitalization of the tradition that has been handed down in their name.

To live out the spiritual tradition of the desert fathers and mothers does not, however, amount to simply imitating their daily practices; it is, rather, “the preservation of a living fellowship.”145 Tradition exists as a fellowship because it consists of communal experiences that span the course of history all the way to Jesus and the

Apostles. The specific practices of early Christian monasticism may indeed be useful to us today, but the primary goal of revitalizing their tradition lies in the cultivation of a spiritual ethos that seeks to always humbly love and serve God and his creation. The culmination of this spiritual path is to experience God “face to face,” and since the only way to accomplish this is through Christ, the first step of this spiritual journey must be to find Christ in the world. In order to find Christ, we must follow the path of our spiritual

144 Bunge, Despondency, 34.

145 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 24.

65 ancestors, whose lives were centered on God through the liturgy, asceticism, and mysticism.

Living a Life of Liturgy, Asceticism, and Mysticism

Since the time of the desert fathers and mothers in the fourth and fifth century, the liturgical practices of the Church have undergone numerous developments. Despite these changes, and their often debated positive and negative implications, the central attributes of liturgical practices have remained the same. The Divine Liturgy, or the Mass, has retained both the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist; the Divine Office, or the Liturgy of the Hours, still has its place among members of the clergy and laity alike. The Sacred Mysteries, or Sacraments, have also undergone developments in both practice and understanding, but nonetheless they still form a core component of Christian life today. In addition to the forms of communal prayer in the Church, the place of personal prayer still plays a great role among Christians as well. The spiritual practices that fall into these two categories, communal and personal prayer, are essential to building the foundation of a modern ontological ecology.

As it was discussed in chapter two, communal and personal prayer are not separate entities, but rather are two unique movements of the soul that reach toward the same end. Through personal prayer we strive to grow in union with God through progressively learning of His presence within us and in the world; communal prayer joins this “inner movement” to the Christian community and to all of creation. In addition to the unitive effect of prayer, it also allows us to move toward a state of spiritual sobriety in which we can gain a new perspective from which to view all of creation — a perspective

66 that is illuminated by God’s uncreated light shining forth from within our beings and all beings. This illuminated, pure state of prayer is the experiential state to which this thesis is aimed. We are our most human in prayer, and in prayer we come to see creation as full of God’s presence. This illumined perspective reveals to us that all of creation is a sacrament through which we become united to God, and thus we learn to love and care for creation in the purest possible manner — we learn to love creation as God does, and in doing so we become one with all of creation just as Christ became one with the world.

It is for this reason that the formation of a modern ontological ecology must begin with a revitalization of prayer.

One of the losses sustained by the Church in recent history is the separation of theory and praxis. Praxis in this sense does not speak of charitable or social action, but of the practices that are unique to the Christian faith — the practices that define what being

Christian truly means. This division between theory and praxis has had many negative implications, but one in particular is especially relevant for our discussion of ontological ecology. One of the concrete effects that the division between theory and praxis in the

Church has had is the lack of influence of theological discourse on the physical practices associated with prayer. In regard to communal prayer, perhaps the most widespread example of this can be seen in the evolutions of Church architecture in the Latin Church over the last several decades.

Many churches built in the last fifty years, especially in the United States, have been designed with conventional needs and modern theological concepts in mind rather than designed according to the theological principles established in the early Church. One common attribute of this new architectural trend is to create sacred spaces that are

67 circular in shape, which is thought to allow everyone to participate equally in the celebration of the liturgy. While this may be a well-intentioned goal, it undermines the theological implications of “traditional” Church architecture. Dating back to some of the earliest Christian communities, church buildings have been designed to imitate the

Jerusalem Temple. Churches constructed in this manner consist of a narthex, nave, and sanctuary. These three chambers represent, respectively, the outer court, the inner court, and the Holy of Holies of the Jerusalem Temple. Building churches in this particular manner symbolically demonstrates the Christian belief in the presence of God in the

Eucharist that is celebrated on the altar in the sanctuary, which reflects the ancient Jewish belief in God’s enthroned presence in the Holy of Holies. This style of architecture was not arbitrarily determined in the early centuries of the Church, but was revealed in the

Book of Exodus (36:8-39:43) in the passages concerning the construction of the tabernacle. Since Christian churches are modeled after the Jerusalem Temple, and the

Temple’s design was based off God’s revelation to the Israelites, the design of Christian churches is a matter of God’s divine revelation and is, therefore, not up for debate.

Another example of the separation of theory and praxis in the Church, which is also related to the Jewish roots of the Christian tradition, is the use of incense during the celebration of the Liturgy. In ancient Judaism incense was used to bless the Holy of

Holies before the high priest was allowed to enter on Yom Kippur. This use of incense was not only a part of Jewish ritual, but it served a practical purpose as well. Ancient

Jews believed that God’s physical presence was enthroned in the Holy of Holies, and if anyone looked directly at God’s presence they would instantly die due to their unworthiness in relation to God. In order to allow the high priest to enter into this “throne

68 room,” the Holy of Holies was filled with incense so that he would not look directly at

God’s physical presence and subsequently die. Christians, however, believe that God has revealed Himself in specific ways throughout the world. During the celebration of the

Mass in the Latin Rite, the priest may use incense at specific times during the Liturgy: to incense the Gospel during the Liturgy of the Word; during the Liturgy of the Eucharist, the altar containing the Body and Blood of Christ, and the congregation are all blessed with incense. This practice indirectly imitates the ancient Jewish use of incense in the

Jerusalem Temple, for in each case the priest uses incense to indicate the revealed presence of God in the world. The priest incenses the Gospel as it contains the Word of

God; he incenses the Eucharist because it is in fact the Body, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus

Christ; the congregation is blessed with incense because — as we learned in chapter two

— Christ resides on the hidden altar of hearts that is place within our bodily temples by the Holy Spirit. Through this simple use of incense during the Liturgy, the priest demonstrates a profound theological principle that in turn teaches all who are present something about their place in the Church and in the world; to understand oneself as a presence of Christ in the world, is to understand that being a Christian does not call oneself to a passive existence, but to a life in which one strives to love all of creation as

God does.146 While there are still churches in the West that carry on this practice of using incense during the celebration of the Liturgy, it is often overlooked as being a mere ritual act. Unfortunately, changes in church architecture and the prevalence of incense in the

146 For an in-depth discussion on the implications of understanding the Church (i.e. the people of whom the Church is comprised) as the corpus verum (the real presence) of Christ, see William Cavanaugh’s Torture and Eucharist.

69 Liturgy are merely two examples among the numerous ways in which prayer has become less physical in recent history.

When prayer becomes less physical, we perceive the physical world as “an other,” which does not participate in the spiritual world. This perceived division of the physical and the spiritual often leads to an understanding of the former as less sacred than the latter. When the physical and the spiritual are understood as inherently related, and in fact as two equally necessary halves of a single cosmic existence, then the sacredness of all creation can be properly understood. In order to cultivate such an understanding of the sacredness of creation, Christians must find ways in which to connect their prayer to the physical world. In addition to the previous examples of church architecture and the use of incense, which in general relate more specifically to communal prayer, there are certain practices that serve to make both personal and communal prayer an act that binds the physical and the spiritual world together.

“Prayer is by its very essence something that takes place spiritually between God and man,” but since we are made of both body and soul the spiritual nature of prayer is always connected to the places and times in which we exist.147 Due to this inherent connection between prayer and the physical reality in which it takes place, there are three aspects of prayer that serve as bridges between the physical and spiritual realms: place, orientation, and time.148 The places in which we pray have a profound impact on the manner in which our prayer unfolds. We discussed above the influence of church

147 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 51.

148 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 51.

70 architecture on communal prayer, but the place in which personal prayer takes place is also of great importance.

The earliest Christian communities recognized that one can, if necessary, pray in any place, but that it is efficacious to dedicate a specific location where one can pray in peace and solitude.149

Abba Markos spoke to Abba Arsenius: “Why do you flee from us?” Then the elder said to him: “God knows that I love you. But I cannot be with God and with men. The thousands and myriads above have one will; men, though, have many wills. I cannot leave God and go among men.150

Seclusion during prayer allows one to grow closer to the will of God, which in turn brings him or her closer to creation. If they try to appease and conform to the multitudinous wills of humanity, their attempt to grow closer to others actually pushes them away from both creation and God. In addition to this unitive affect, seclusion during prayer is necessary because “during this ‘being with God’ of which Arsenios spoke, things occur between Creator and creature that by their very nature are not meant for the eyes and ears of others.”151 These “things” which are meant to be seen only by God and the individual in prayer are the physical effects that prayer often has on a person. More commonly, we may be moved to tears or other outward manifestations of deep emotion

149 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 52-54. Bunge quotes several passages of Scripture here, which include: “About the place one should know that, provided one prays correctly, every place is appropriate for prayer. For ‘in every place, says the Lord, incense is offered to my name...’” (Mal 1:11), and “I desire then that in every place the men should pray” (1 Tim 2:8).

150 Arsenius, 13.

151 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 55.

71 during prayer, but the holiest of people experience physical changes of a much greater magnitude.

A brother came to the cell of Abba Arsenius at Scetis. Waiting outside the door he saw the old man entirely like a flame. (The brother was worthy of this sight.) When he knocked, the old man came out and saw the brother marveling. He said to him, “Have you been knocking long? Did you see anything here?” The other answered, “No.” So then he talked with him and sent him away.152

This consumption of the body in fire, as we learned in chapter two, is the physical result of the process of deification. Since it is this glorified ontological state toward which prayer is aimed, it becomes necessary that one prays in secret whenever possible. In addition to the private nature of personal prayer, praying alone in a designated space allows one to create a space that is best suited for prayer. One of the most effective ways to create a sacred space in which to pray on a daily basis is to create a “prayer corner” in one’s home. The Catechism of the Catholic Church suggests that a prayer corner contain items such as the sacred Scriptures, icons, and candles; all of which serve to focus our attention on God through the use of physical items.153 Not only is the space in which we pray important, but the way that we position our bodies in prayer is essential as well.

Our bodies are the most intimate connection that we have to the physical world, and the way that we use them during prayer influences our understanding of the connection between the physical and spiritual “realms.” Today, especially in the West, the posture one takes during prayer has become almost irrelevant, except for the most basic actions of standing and kneeling during parts of the Mass — this, however, was not

152 Arsenius, 27.

153 Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2691.

72 always the case. Early Christian monastics understood that the posture one assumes during prayer is of the utmost importance, and their practices have a great deal to teach us today. According to this early tradition, prayer is best carried out while standing, kneeling, or lying prostrate — each having its own specific purpose. Standing to pray is a practice that is founded in Scripture with Jesus and the Apostles, and was carried on by the early Church Fathers.154 One of the desert fathers, Abba Arsenius, was known to stand at prayer throughout the entire night:

It was also said of him that on Saturday evenings, preparing for the glory of Sunday, he would turn his back on the sun and stretch out his hands in prayer towards the heavens, till once again the sun shone on his face. Then he would sit down.155

This practice of standing during prayer can be seen throughout early monastic literature, and the reason for its prevalence is related to the primary goal of prayer itself. During prayer, one attempts to orient themselves toward God and to see Him “face to face.” As was mentioned earlier, even though the goal of prayer is spiritual in nature, it does in fact take place within the confines of our physical reality; therefore, a level of symmetry must exist between the “posture” of our soul and the gestures that we make with our body.156

Origen spoke of this reality, saying:

Nor may anyone doubt that of the countless postures of the body, the posture with hands outstretched and eyes uplifted is to be preferred to all, because one then

154 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 141-142.

155 Arsenius, 30.

156 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 145.

73 carries in the body too, as it were, the image of that special condition which befits the soul during prayer.157

This argument that the body must reflect the actions of the soul is perhaps best understood in light of our discussion in chapter two about the harmonization of the three

“churches” of the cosmic liturgy. If true harmony and spiritual sobriety can only exist when one’s spirit and actions are in unison with God’s will, then it is logical to conclude that when in prayer — the purest striving of that same unitive process — one’s body would reflect the “posture” of one’s soul. The soul does not have only one posture, however; therefore, standing is not the only appropriate bodily gesture during prayer.

There are times when standing to pray does not reflect the state of our souls, such as circumstances in which we become aware of a grave offense that we have committed against God. In these moments it is appropriate that we kneel during prayer, for “the bending of one knee (or both) also expresses profound reverence…”158 It is from this posture that we can demonstrate our sincere reverence, humility, and repentance before

God. In addition to kneeling, laying prostrate on the ground also expresses the sincere humility and repentance that is often required of us. The key to understanding these different forms of prayer gestures is to recognize that there is, in general, not one of them that suffices on its own. They are, in fact, meant to be used in conjunction with one another — just as the posture of our souls is dynamic, the movements of our bodies during prayer must be dynamic as well.159 These bodily positions help us to ground our

157 Origen, De Oratione XXXI, 2. English translation quoted from Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 145.

158 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 165.

159 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 168-70.

74 prayer in our physical existence, which in turn helps us to associate all our physical actions with the presence of God. While God does indeed exist in all places, Christians have traditionally connected the eastward direction with Christ’s presence and His second coming. It is for this reason that facing East during prayer is especially profound for

Christians.

Ad orientem (to face East) has remained the traditional liturgical posture of the

Christian Church in the East, and was so in the West until the second half of the twentieth century.160 The practice of facing East during prayer is one that has been questioned since the early centuries of the Church, and was commonly defended as simply being a part of our apostolic tradition. While this is indeed true, there is good reason for which the practice of facing East during prayer first became a part of Church tradition. Opponents of praying ad orientem, both ancient and modern, often argue that God is present everywhere so there is no need to face only one direction during prayer. This claim is valid, in fact, but it is not a suitable argument against praying ad orientem, because the presence of God in the East is not the reason for which the East is revered as the most holy direction of creation. The practice of praying ad orientem developed out of the understanding that Paradise — the home for which we were originally created — existed in the Garden of Eden, in the East.161

When the Christian, therefore, turns toward the east to worship, then in his mind’s eye arises that Paradise as the ‘original home’, where he is totally himself: living

160 Although such liturgical postures have not been completely abandoned in the West and can indeed be practiced, they have certainly not been the norm for several decades.

161 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 60-61.

75 in perfect harmony with his Creator, with whom, indeed, he speaks there face to face, in harmony with his equals, with himself and with the creatures that surround him.162

Praying ad orientem places us face to face with God and the only true home that we will ever have, and in this orientation, we place ourselves in a state of harmony with all creation as it “faces” East in the very essence of its being. The importance of retaining this orientation in prayer has been reflected in church architecture through the history of the Church. Christian churches have traditionally been built so that they face East, and the eastern facing wall of the church interior is the traditional location of the altar and a large crucifix. This liturgical design imparts a profound theological insight to those who worship in the church: when we face East in prayer within a church, the crucifix stands between us and Paradise; for it is a reminder that Christ brought the tree of life to us in our exile, and it is through Christ that we shall once again return to Paradise.163 The use of ad orientem prayer, therefore, imparts upon us a cosmic understanding of prayer that allows us to cultivate a deeper understanding of the role of creation in our spiritual lives.

It is not, however, just the physical aspects of prayer (i.e. posture and orientation) that are essential, but the times at which we prayer are also of the utmost importance. As it was discussed in chapter two, the desert fathers and mothers had two set prayer times, at sunrise and sunset; their primary goal, however, was pray without ceasing. In order to accomplish this task, early Christian monks sought to discipline themselves by filling their days with a rhythm of prayer and work, which served to punctuate their daily existence with prayer. This practice allowed them form their intellects so as to be in a

162 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 61.

163 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 62-66.

76 state of constant prayer. Today in the Church, this practice has been retained in the practice of praying the Liturgy of the Hours.

The Liturgy of the Hours, also known as the Divine Office, provides a structured form of prayer that is comprised of Psalms, hymns, Scripture readings, and prayers. It is divided between the seven liturgical hours of the day, and has been prayed by members of the Church in one form or another since its conception in early Christian monasticism.

In addition to the primary unitive function of prayer that the Liturgy of the Hours serve, they also help us to cultivate an unceasing state of prayer amongst the fast-paced schedule of our daily lives.

The observation of a fixed number of times of prayer, distributed throughout the day (and the night), which requires a certain self-discipline, has therefore essentially the sole purpose of building bridges that enable our inconstant mind to make its way across the river of time.164

It is for this reason that the Liturgy of the Hours serves as an excellent tool by which we can cultivate the habit of praying without ceasing. In practice, however, the complete edition of the Liturgy of the Hours requires large volumes, and a copious amount of time each day to pray in its entirety. There are certainly many Christians, both lay and monastic, who find this complete edition to be the most edifying way to pray the Divine

Office, but others should not fear to admit that a more concise version is better suited to their state in life.165 The length and complexity of the Liturgy of the Hours has been a concern for many laypersons throughout much of Church history, and condensed versions of Liturgy of the Hours have existed for quite some time. These condensed editions are

164 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 76.

165 Bunge, Earthen Vessels, 199-202

77 often identified as a “Little Office” or “Book of Hours,” and can be prayed by Christians in place of the longer versions of the Liturgy of the Hours. These shorter compilations of

Psalms, readings, and prayers “arose in the Middle Ages as small portable prayer books… [and] were popular versions of the Divine Office…”166 There have been many different “Little Offices” that have been compiled over the last several centuries, but one that is of special interest to the topic of ontological ecology is Thomas Merton’s A Book of Hours, which is a compilation of Merton’s writing into the form of a “Little Office.”

The psalms and hymns are comprised of Merton’s poetry, and the readings come from his numerous spiritual works. This compilation of Merton’s writing often speaks of the relationship between humanity and creation; the hymn and antiphon for the dawn hour on

Sunday speak eloquently of this relationship. The hymn ends with:

...And from the center of my cellar, Love, louder than thunder Opens a heaven of naked air. New eyes awaken. I send Love’s name into the world with wings And songs grow up around me like a jungle. Choirs of all creation sing the tunes Your Spirit played in Eden. Zebras and antelopes and birds of paradise Shine on the face of the abyss And I am drunk with the great wilderness Of the sixth day in Genesis.167

The antiphon that follows reads: “The most wonderful moment of the day is that when creation in its innocence asks permission to “be” once again, as it did on the first morning

166 William G. Storey, A Catholic Book of Hours and Other Devotions (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2007), vii-viii.

167 Thomas Merton, A Book of Hours, ed. Kathleen Deignan (Notre Dame, IN: Sorin Books, 2007), 44-45.

78 that ever was.”168 These texts are only one of numerous examples of this style of language that exists in Merton’s A Book of Hours. What is perhaps the most interesting about this text — other than its beautiful demonstration of the participation of creation in the cosmic liturgy of praise — is its similarity to the type of language that is often used in early monastic literature, such as Ephrem’s Hymns on Paradise, which states:

In his book Moses described the creation of the natural world, so that both Nature and Scripture might bear witness to the Creator: Nature, through man’s use of it, Scripture, through his reading of it. These are the witnesses which reach everywhere, they are to be found at all times, present at every hour, confuting the unbeliever who defames the Creator.169

An in-depth analysis of the similar language and implications of these two texts and the possible influence of the latter on the former is outside of the scope of this thesis, but we can conclude that the contemplative lifestyle that both men lived appears to have had a profound impact on the manner in which they understand their relationship to the rest of creation. The contemplative life that they lived was indeed centered on prayer, but it also consisted of ascetic practices that aided them in orienting their entire lives toward God.

In comparison to the prayer practices discussed above, the ascetic practices of early Christian monasticism often seem to be the most implausible to incorporate in our

168 Merton, A Book of Hours, 45.

169 Ephrem, Hymns on Paradise, V, 2. English translation can be found in Hymns on Paradise, trans. Sebastian Brock (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1990), 102.

79 daily lives. While the specific manner in which we today might implement such practices may differ from those living in a monastic setting, the primary principles remain the same. While there are numerous practices that are spoken of in early monastic literature, there are three general categories of ascetic practices: fasting, poverty, and silence. While each of these ascetic practices have their own unique attributes and purpose, they share a universal goal of the spiritual life; each of these practices is aimed at emptying oneself of temporal goods so that one may be filled with the divine and eternal goods of God.

As we learned in chapter two, early Christian monks did not understand fasting to be just a disciplinary practice; it was, in fact, a restoration of the paradisiacal relationship between humanity and the rest of creation. In addition to this primary purpose, fasting also has the benefits of reminding us of our total dependence on God and aiding us in our struggle against our passions.

Abba John the Dwarf said, ‘If a king wanted to take possession of his enemy's city, he would begin by cutting off the water and the food and so his enemies, dying of hunger, would submit to him. It is the same with the passions of the flesh: if a man goes about fasting and hungry the enemies of his soul grow weak.’170

Through the practice of fasting we become able to gain control over our passions by emptying ourselves of our attachment to food and drink, and replace it with the loving presence of God in our lives. Fasting still plays a large role in the traditions of the Eastern

Church, but in the West, we have lost many of our traditional practices related to fasting.

In the East, Christians fast for numerous weeks out of a year through abstaining from all animal products. The only requirements for fasting and abstaining from certain foods in

170 John the Dwarf 3.

80 the Latin Church that remain occur during the Lenten season, and consist of abstaining from meat on Fridays and fasting on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. The understanding of fasting in the West has suffered as well, as many Christians understand fasting simply as a penitential act. We must revitalize the understanding of fasting that was held by the desert fathers and mothers, and learn from the members of the Church — such as those in the Christian East — who have sustained the practice of fasting throughout the history of the Church. Becoming detached from worldly things does not end, however, with the amount and types of food that we eat, but also involves the material goods that we consume.

Western culture has devolved into an endless cycle of consumption, whether it is clothing, electronics, vehicles, or homes, we are constantly striving to obtain more material possessions. This behavior is fueled by the constant stream of information and advertising that is fed through the numerous forms of communication that exist today.

The desert fathers and mothers lived in a time that was perhaps much simpler than today, but even then they found it necessary to retreat from the greed of society and live lives of voluntary poverty in the desert. To suggest that we should live lives of voluntary poverty is not to say that everyone should give away all that they own — although there may be individuals who feel called to do so — rather we must aim to live a life of simplicity; a life that is based on need rather than wants. The practical implications of living “simply” will not look the same for all people; individuals who have families and children to care for will, by necessity, need to retain certain material goods to carry out their functions as mothers and fathers. No matter what our state in life, however, we can turn to the desert fathers and mother as examples from which we can learn to live lives of simplicity. One

81 of the effects of living our lives in as simple a manner as possible is that it helps us reduce the unnecessary “noise” that often fills every space within our lives. When we detach ourselves from unnecessary material possessions, we become less worried about the social, financial, and often emotional implications of our material wealth. Through shedding the anxiety associated with gaining material wealth, we can begin to cultivate silence and solitude in our daily lives.

Silence and solitude are quintessential attributes of monastic life; they allow us time to reflect on our relationship with God and creation, and create a “space” in which

God is revealed to us. The cultivation of silence in our lives occurs in two different manners: in our exterior lives and in our inner most being. Exterior silence is practical in nature; it is achieved through spending time each day in prayer without the distractions of daily life, such as television, music, idle conversation, etc. Through spending time in exterior silence and prayer we can cultivate an interior silence, which is the “place” in which God speaks to us and we experience his revelation. This interior silence is one of the first steps toward entering a state of spiritual sobriety, in which we can perceive

God’s existence in all things. To cultivate both exterior and interior silence in our lives, we must be willing to accept periods of solitude in our lives.

One of the most recognizable attributes of monastic life is the monk’s solitary retreat from the world, which on the surface seems an impossible task for the layperson who has an occupation and a family — the two, however, are not incompatible.

The perseverance of the anchorite in the seclusion of his cell reflects an extreme human situation, but its symbolic value is incalculable. Most people do not live in ‘cells’ but in equally confined situations of all types, in the family, an occupation, and so forth. To persevere there in silence and without bitterness and resentment, but with one’s gaze fixed rather on the ‘outcome,’ makes the human being into a

82 monk (monachos) in the real sense of the word, which means to be completely ‘unified.’171

The silence and solitude that has become an essential image of monastic life is a spiritual practice that was never intended to be relinquished to the candlelit corners of monastic cells; it is an essential aspect of Christian life, without which the path towards union with

God and His creation becomes lost. As we discussed in chapter two, God reaches out to us and we must grasp His hand in order that we may be drawn back into His loving

Divinity. In order to have the ability to reach out for God’s hand, we must be able to perceive His presence in the creation of which we are apart — and such a perception can only be achieved through the entering into a state of spiritual sobriety through living lives centered on prayer, fasting, and silence

171 Bunge, Despondency, 96.

83 CHAPTER IV

CONCLUSION

Human beings are created in the image and likeness of God, and it is this image of

God within us that defines our humanity. Human beings consist of their own physical realities, but the true meaning of their existence can only be properly understood in the presence of God that their physical reality reflects; the existence of human beings is not defined by their physical reality, but by their “iconic” nature. Humans are not, however, the only members of creation that owe their existence to God; all of creation exists due to the presence of God in all matter. In addition to being the source of all life and existence, God crosses the ontological gap between Creator and creature in order to imbue humanity with His nature. Prior to taking on a mortal second nature as a result of the fall, Adam and Eve were ontologically “naked,” and such nakedness implies that the bodies of Adam and Eve were “open to the material creation without resisting it in any way, and without the world offering any resistance to the body — the world had been surrendered to it. The human body, while maintaining its own peculiar constitution and separate identity with regard to the world, was nevertheless not divided from it at all.”172

It is this state of harmonious existence with creation toward which our lives must be

172 Nellas, Deification in Christ, 53.

84 oriented. Human nature as it is known in the world today is not the original “garment” that God intended human beings to wear. In Paradise, the physical reality of human beings was not only eternal, but it also existed in a harmonious and undivided union with the rest of creation. It was only after Adam and Eve’s fall from Paradise that humans became mortal beings who are at odds with the world in which they exist. Based on this understanding of human existence in the world, it is logical to conclude that the present state of humanity is unnatural and it is only through union with God that humans can return to their natural state in Paradise and to their natural, God-intended relation to the world. It is for this reason, that it is more accurate to speak of creation and its relationship with God in terms of “unnatural” and “natural,” rather than “natural” and “supernatural.”

Based upon this understanding, it can be said that our journey toward eternal life with

God in Paradise is simply a return to the “natural” state of life for which we were originally created.

One of the first steps on our journey toward eternal life is initiation into Christ’s

Church through the sacrament of Baptism. The priesthood that is bestowed upon

Christians at their baptism is universal to both the laity and the clergy, and obliges us to serve Christ and His Church as priests in this life. The role of the universal priesthood has been dictated since the beginning of time – if Adam was to serve as a priest in Paradise, and through baptism Christians are once again “clothed” in the priestly garment, then

Christians are called to carry out the same priestly functions that Adam was meant to carry out in Paradise. As priests, our primary function in this world is to offer sacrifices to God our Creator, which we do through our prayers and participation in the three levels of the cosmic liturgy. Human beings are not, however, the only members of creation that

85 participate in this cosmic liturgy; all of creation prays unceasingly in its natural state. It must be understood, therefore, that when elements of creation (e.g. animals, plants, etc.) are unjustly harmed by human beings, what takes place, in God’s eyes, is the murder of a priest who sang its praises to God through its very existence. It only becomes possible to perceive creation in this manner when one enters into a state of union with God, which joins the temporal life with the Divine life of God in Heaven. In addition to its unitive effects, prayer also allows us to move toward a state of spiritual sobriety in which we can gain a new perspective from which to view all of creation — a perspective that is illuminated by God’s uncreated light shining forth from within our beings and all beings.

This illuminated, pure state of prayer is the experiential state to which this thesis is aimed. We are our most human in prayer, and in prayer we come to see creation as full of

God’s presence. This illumined perspective reveals to us that all of creation is a sacrament through which we become united to God, and thus we learn to love and care for creation in the purest possible manner — we learn to love creation as God does, and in doing so we become one with all of creation just as Christ became one with the world.

This process, while difficult, can be achieved with the help of God’s grace and the lessons provided to us by early Christian monastics.

It was through a contemplative life of prayer and work that early Christian monks entered a state of spiritual awareness and harmonized their lives with the entire cosmos.

Through this transformative process they came to understand that all of creation is filled with the presence of God and is, therefore, sacred and to be treated with the utmost reverence. In our modern world, as we face the ecological crisis that looms before us, we must continue to search for new ways to correct our abuse of creation. Advances in

86 technology, social awareness, and economic systems are certainly important to this cause, but we must also find a way to understand that creation does not belong to us — we must come to understand we are a part of creation, which belongs to God alone. We cannot come to understand the world in this way through mere academic research or ethical reasoning; it is a perspective that can only be achieved through a simple life of prayer, work, and fasting — we must come to embody the nature of a “true monk.” It is the unification of the human person to the whole world that makes him or her a true monk; for “a monk is one who is separated from all and united with all [and] regards himself as linked with every man [and, we may add, with every creature and thing], through always seeing himself in each.”173 This is the universal vocation of the human person, to become united with all through the cultivation of a spiritual life in which one comes face-to-face with God.

Through this progressive orientation of one’s life toward God, one comes to see their own nature as intertwined with all of creation through the recognition of God’s presence in all things. It is this recognition of God in all of creation that is at the heart of an ontological ecology; for to see God in all things turns all things into sacred gateways of God’s revelation. If we as human beings do not care for the world in which we live, then we discard the sacraments of creation that reveal to us God’s loving presence; therefore, actively separating ourselves from the path that leads to our true home in

Paradise — to the place in which we are most human. It is for this reason that we must

173 Evagrius, De oratione tractus (Treatise on Prayer), 124-25. English translation can be found in The Philokalia: The Complete Text Volume I, trans. G.E.H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard, and Kallistos Ware (London: Faber and Faber, 1979), 69.

87 turn to the traditions of our spiritual ancestors, who knew these truths so well through the experience of their reality, and cultivate in our lives the same spiritual vision that led to the harmonious relationship with God and all of creation. The way in which we adapt the spirituality of early Christian monasticism may differ from its origins in the fourth century, but the core theological principles and spiritual practices can, and must, be lived out by Christians today. Through living this spiritual life, we may hope to enter a state of spiritual sobriety; the same perspective that led early Christian monks to care for even the smallest elements of creation.

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