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Philokalia Ministries
Hosted by Father David Abernethy · EN
Philokalia Ministries is the fruit of 30 years spent at the feet of the Fathers of the Church. Led by Father David Abernethy, Philokalia (Philo: Love of the Kalia: Beautiful) Ministries exists to re-form hearts and minds according to the mold of the Desert Fathers through the ascetic life, the example of the early Saints, the way of stillness, prayer, and purity of heart, the practice of the Jesus Prayer, and spiritual reading. Those who are involved in Philokalia Ministries - the podcasts, videos, social media posts, spiritual direction and online groups - are exposed to writings that make up the ancient, shared spiritual heritage of East and West: The Ladder of Divine Ascent, Saint Augustine, the Philokalia, the Conferences of Saint John Cassian, the Ascetical Homilies of Saint Isaac the Syrian, and the Evergetinos. In addition to these, more recent authors and writings, which draw deeply from the well of the desert, are read and discussed: Lorenzo Scupoli, Saint Theophan the Recluse, anonymous writings from Mount Athos, the Cloud of Unknowing, Saint John of the Cross, Thomas a Kempis, and many more.
Philokalia Ministries is offered to all, free of charge. However, there are real and immediate needs associated with it. You can support Philokalia Ministries with one-time, or recurring monthly donations, which are most appreciated. Your support truly makes this ministry possible. May Almighty God, who created you and fashioned you in His own Divine Image, restore you through His grace and make of you a true icon of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
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Pentecost Retreat - Session Three
May 101:39:04Tap to summarizeThe Fire That Remains Life in the Spirit After the Collapse of the Religious Self Week III — When Prayer Begins to Live Itself The Emergence of the Heart in the Life of the Spirit ⸻ Opening Invocation O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of blessings and Giver of life, Come and dwell in us, Cleanse us from every impurity, And save our souls, O Good One. ⸻ I. After Endurance — Something Begins That You Did Not Initiate There comes a point after long endurance after remaining without clarity after refusing to rebuild when something begins. Not suddenly. Not dramatically. But unmistakably. And the first thing you realize is this: It is not coming from you. You did not produce it. 1 You did not initiate it. You cannot sustain it. It appears. Quietly. Like water beneath the surface beginning to move. This is the beginning of prayer that is no longer merely your effort. But something alive. ⸻ II. The Shift From Doing to Being Drawn Up until now, prayer has largely been something you have done. Even when it was poor. Even when it was dry. Even when it was stripped of feeling. You remained. You turned. You endured. But now something shifts. You begin to sense that prayer is no longer something you initiate. You are being drawn into it. There is a movement within. Gentle. Persistent. Not forcing. Not demanding. 2 But calling. And if you are attentive you will notice: You are not holding prayer. Prayer is beginning to hold you. “No one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.” (1 Corinthians 12:3) Even the simplest turning of the heart is not your own. It is given. ⸻ III. The Warming of the Heart There may come a warmth. But it is not like the warmth you knew before. It is not emotional. It is not something you generate. It is subtle. Steady. Quiet. A sense of life within the heart. A softening. A gathering. Where before the heart was scattered pulled in many directions restless 3 now it begins to collect. To come together. To become one. “Humility collects the soul.” — St. Isaac the Syrian And with this gathering comes a new kind of attention. Not forced. Not strained. But natural. As though the heart has found its place. ⸻ IV. The Prayer That Continues Beneath the Surface You begin to notice something else. Prayer does not end when you stop speaking. It continues. Beneath thought. Beneath activity. Beneath distraction. There is a quiet remembrance. A presence. A turning toward God that does not require constant effort. And this can be confusing at first. 4 Because you are used to measuring prayer by what you do. By words. By attention. By duration. But now prayer is no longer confined to those moments. It begins to permeate. To underlie. To become something like breath. “Pray without ceasing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) Not as a command to strive. But as a description of something that begins to happen. ⸻ V. The Guarding of the Heart But this is fragile. Very fragile. Because the old patterns are not gone. The mind still wanders. The ego still seeks to reassert itself. The world still presses in. And so a new kind of vigilance is needed. Not harsh. Not anxious. 5 But attentive. You begin to guard the heart not out of fear but out of love. You begin to notice: What disturbs this quiet? What scatters the heart again? What pulls attention outward in a way that dissipates this life? And slowly without rigidity you begin to choose differently. Not because you must. But because you do not want to lose this. “Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.” (Proverbs 4:23) This is the beginning of watchfulness. ⸻ VI. The Subtle Temptation to Possess Grace And here again a danger arises. Very subtle. You begin to recognize what is happening. You begin to value it. You begin to desire its continuation. And without realizing it you begin to try to preserve it. 6 To hold onto it. To repeat it. To secure it. And in doing so you begin to lose it. Because grace cannot be possessed. It can only be received. And received again. And again. The moment you try to make it yours it withdraws. Not as punishment. But because its nature is gift. ⸻ VII. The Deepening of Humility If you remain faithful here something deepens. Not dramatically. But steadily. A humility that is no longer forced. No longer constructed. No longer spoken about. 7 It simply is. You begin to know not as an idea but as a reality: That everything is given. That you cannot produce even the smallest movement toward God. That without Him you return immediately to dispersion. And this does not lead to despair. It leads to gratitude. And a kind of quiet reverence. “Keep thy mind in hell and despair not.” — St. Silouan the Athonite You see your poverty. And yet you are not crushed by it. Because something else is present. ⸻ VIII. The Emergence of the Heart as Person There is a further shift. Difficult to describe. But unmistakable. You begin to exist not as a collection of thoughts or reactions or roles but as a presence. 8 A person. Not defined by activity. Not defined by identity. But simply present before God. And this presence begins to extend. Into your interactions. Into your speech. Into your silence. You become less reactive. Less driven. More able to be with others without needing to assert yourself. This is not something you achieve. It is something that emerges. As the heart becomes unified. ⸻ IX. The Quiet Joy That Has No Object And there may come a joy. But it is unlike the joys you have known. It is not tied to circumstances. Not dependent on outcomes. Not even dependent on consolation. It is quiet. 9 Almost hidden. A sense of rightness. Of being where you are meant to be. Even if outwardly nothing has changed. Even if difficulties remain. Even if suffering continues. This joy does not remove suffering. It coexists with it. And transforms it from within. ⸻ X. Closing Exhortation Do not grasp at this. Do not analyze it. Do not try to secure it. Remain as you have been taught: Poor. Attentive. Open. Receive what is given. Let it come. Let it go. Let it return. Do not make it into something. 10 Do not make it into yourself. Because what is being formed here is not an experience. It is a heart. Alive in the Spirit. ⸻ Closing Prayer Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Thou who hast kindled the fire of Thy Spirit in our hearts, grant that we may not extinguish it through our grasping and our fear. Teach us to receive what Thou givest. To remain where Thou placest us. And to become what Thou art forming within us. That our hearts may live in Thee and Thou in us. Amen. 11
Transcribe →The Ascetical Homilies of St. Isaac the Syrian - Homily X
Apr 2401:04:44Tap to summarizeMany will read this homily of St. Isaac the Syrian and hear only threat. They will imagine that he is merely moralizing, merely warning, merely trying to frighten men into behaving. They will hear law where he is speaking mystery. They will hear rules where he is unveiling consecration. Isaac is not obsessed with sin as a legal violation. He is shattered by something far deeper: that those who have been joined to Christ live as though they still belong to the world. He is not saying merely, “Do not break commandments.” He is saying: Do not profane what has become holy. Through the Incarnation, the Son of God took flesh. He entered the very substance of our humanity. He did not save us from afar. He entered our blood, our weakness, our mortality, our death. He carried human nature into the tomb and raised it radiant. What was estranged has been united. What was corruptible has been touched by immortality. And through Baptism of the Lord and our own baptism into Him, through the Eucharistic Body and Blood, through the seal and indwelling of the Holy Spirit, we are not merely instructed people. We are consecrated people. Our eyes are no longer simply eyes. Our hands are no longer simply hands. Our mouths are no longer simply mouths. Our bodies are no longer private possessions. Our life is no longer our own. We have become members of Christ. This is why Isaac speaks with fire. When he recounts Noah’s generation, Sodom, Samson, David, Eli, Baltasar, he is not delighting in punishment narratives. He is showing that sin is never trivial because man is never trivial. To misuse the body is to misuse a mystery. To turn desire against holiness is to drag what was made for communion into fragmentation. To employ consecrated members for impurity, vanity, greed, cruelty, or spiritual indifference is to treat the vessels of the sanctuary as drinking cups at a banquet of death. Baltasar drank from holy vessels and was struck down. Isaac says: look closer. We do this every day when we take what belongs to God and hand it back to the passions. You mouth received the Eucharist. Then you use it for bitterness. Your eyes were anointed for light. Then you train them upon lust and envy. Your mind was illumined for prayer. Then you sell it to distraction. Your heart was made for divine love. Then you offer it to vanity. Your body became a temple. Then you rent rooms to idols. And still we say lightly, “I can repent later.” This is what Isaac tears apart. He is not denying repentance. He is defending it from abuse. He is saying: do not turn mercy into permission. Do not make the patience of God an accomplice to your self-destruction. Do not use the medicine as a reason to keep drinking poison. Modern Christians often reduce everything to psychology or ethics. If we fail, we think only in terms of mistakes, coping, weakness, habits. Isaac sees more deeply. He sees sacrilege and glory side by side. He sees saints living beneath their dignity. He sees temples choosing mud. He sees heirs of the Kingdom amusing themselves with chains. This is why holy fear matters. Not servile terror. Not neurotic dread. But trembling before what grace has made possible. Fear that I might forget who Christ has made me. Fear that I might treat divine intimacy casually. Fear that I might become numb while carrying heaven within me. The Fathers speak fear because love is real. Only what is precious can be desecrated. And they speak repentance because desecration is not the final word. David wept. Peter was restored. Samson, blinded and broken, cried out again. Mercy remains greater than sin. But mercy is not cheap because blood purchased it. The open door of repentance is not there so we may stroll in and out of darkness at will. It is there so that when we have fallen, we may return shattered and be remade. Isaac calls us back to baptismal consciousness. Remember what happened to you. Remember what entered you. Remember whose Body you receive. Remember whose Spirit dwells in you. Remember that your members have been signed for another Kingdom. You are not common. That is the terror and the joy of Christianity. The Christian life is not mainly avoiding bad behavior. It is guarding the flame placed in earthen vessels. It is reverencing what God has claimed. It is allowing every faculty to become liturgy. Eyes that pray. Hands that bless. Speech that heals. Mind that remembers God. Heart that burns cleanly. Body that becomes offering. Isaac thunders because he sees how magnificent you are in Christ, and how cheaply you are tempted to live. Do not use mercy to remain unchanged. Do not use repentance to excuse betrayal. Do not drag consecrated things back into slavery. You have passed through death and resurrection. You have eaten fire. You carry the Spirit. Live like one who has touched the Holy. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:11:55 Andrew Adams: yes 00:15:19 Adam Paige: An Anglican could speak to a priest in the confessional, but they wouldn’t receive absolution 00:17:58 Catherine Opie: I am currently in the UK and its 12.30am! 00:46:44 Wayne: Sorry, need to leave now... 00:56:53 Erick Chastain: In light of St. Isaac's discussion of the consecration of our members and the Eucharist: St. Cyril of Jerusalem (cat. 22, n. 3; M. 33, 1099): “The body and . . . blood are given to you, so that, when you have received the body and blood of Christ, you may be made concorporeal and consanguineous with him. For thus we also become Christ-bearers, his body and blood being distributed through our members. Thus, according to blessed Peter, we become partakers of the divine nature.” 01:01:39 Erick Chastain: scotistic dogmatic theology manual excerpt 01:01:49 Jessica McHale: I have a question about the Eucharist. It's a little off topic, but I am curious about your thoughts: I heard a Jesuit priest say once that "it's silly for someone to run into a burning church just to save the Eucharist in the tabernacle because Jesus already died once for us and He can't be hurt again." I don't know what to make of that. We do protect the Euchatist as best we can from desecration, in any way, but is it true that He can't be "hurt again" so we wouldn't need to "woory" so much abotu it 01:05:52 Julie: This was how different the early martyrs were to now 01:05:56 iPhone: Should we attend Church for Mass when is not revrence. 01:06:24 Ben: Anna: If you find yourself on the lazy/ distracted end of burnout, what does returning to zeal look like? Or is zeal the wrong word? 01:06:52 Gwen’s iPhone: I remember Fr. Groeschel said when he was a little boy when he first saw inside the Tabernacle he expected tiny furniture. Just a thought (off topic ) 01:07:13 Ben: 12 01:07:27 John Burmeister: Reacted to "12" with 👍 01:07:56 Kathryn Rose: Zeal maybe isn't the ideal state to seek out or try to maintain. It seems like Hesychia is what we aim for 01:13:21 Jessica McHale: Reacted to "12" with ❤️ 01:13:26 Ben: Anna: In the stillness, when one sees one's unworthiness before God. How does one remain? 01:18:25 David Swiderski, WI: This is the day the Lord has made (Psalm 118) now comes the treasure hunt for us to find him in the day. One of my 3rd grade students told me this once after seeing the psalm in a chapel we had at the school and I think of it and him often 01:20:24 Maureen Cunningham: Thank You Blessings 01:21:17 Andrew Adams: Thanks be to God! Thank you, Father! 01:21:19 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:21:29 Janine: Thank you Father! 01:21:33 Aaron: thank you father! 01:21:35 Nicola Loynes: Thank you Father 01:21:36 David Swiderski, WI: Thank you Father may God bless you your Mother and this group 01:21:39 Jessica McHale:...
Transcribe →The Evergetinos: Book Three - Chapter I, Part II
Apr 2101:05:23Tap to summarizeThe shallow reader sees only a warning against suspicion. The deeper reader trembles, because this account unveils something far more demanding: the measure of a life so united to God that it no longer moves by ordinary instinct. Most men protect reputation. Most men avoid scandal. Most men keep a safe distance from misery so that their conscience remains clean and their name untarnished. St. Vitalios of Alexandria did none of this. He entered the place others cursed. He walked into darkness not to taste it, but to burn within it like hidden fire. He labored by day, ate almost nothing, gave his wages away, and spent whole nights standing in prayer for women whom society used, despised, and discarded. While others preached virtue from a distance, he purchased for them one night of freedom and filled that purchased silence with psalms, tears, prostrations, and intercession. This is not recklessness. It is sanctity. The prudent man says: “Protect yourself.” The holy man says: “Lose yourself.” The calculating man asks: “What will people think?” The saint asks: “Who will suffer if I do nothing?” The world calls such love foolish because it cannot recognize anything that does not orbit self-preservation. What made this possible? Not mere compassion. Not personality. Not activism. Not moral zeal. It was hypostatic life: the human person so opened to God that divine love begins to move through human faculties. The man remains man, yet his heart becomes a place where another will acts, another mercy breathes, another courage rises. He does not merely imitate Christ. Christ lives in him. So he can go where others cannot go. He can endure slander without defense. He can accept blows without retaliation. He can bear misunderstanding without explaining himself. He can love those who insult him. He can save those whom others have already condemned. This is why the story wounds us. We do not simply condemn others. We also love within limits. We forgive within limits. We serve within limits. We give when it costs little. We remain charitable so long as our image stays intact. We call this balance, prudence, maturity. Often it is fear wearing respectable clothing. St. Vitalios of Alexandria accepted the loss of reputation as the price of hidden obedience. He let the city think him filthy while heaven knew him radiant. Few can bear this martyrdom. Many would rather be praised for lesser virtues than despised for greater love. And see the fruit. Women were restored. The shameless learned chastity. The fallen found repentance. The violent man became a monk. The condemning city learned fear. The Patriarch gave thanks. One hidden man transformed a multitude. We live in an age obsessed with visibility, explanation, branding, image, and public vindication. We cannot bear to be misunderstood for an afternoon. Yet the saints often accepted misunderstanding for years. Why? Because once the heart belongs wholly to God, reputation becomes dust. The final words of the Elder are written not in ink, but on the ground. Dust speaking to dust: Judge nothing before the time. Not because evil is unreal. Not because discernment is unnecessary. But because what you see is almost never the whole story. The woman you dismiss may be one night from repentance. The man you mock may be a saint in disguise. The soul you slander may be carrying a cross you cannot imagine. And the one you most confidently condemn may be the vessel through whom God is saving many. If you would know whether Christ lives in you, ask not how pious you appear. Ask this: Can you love where there is no reward? Can you serve where you will be misjudged? Can you descend where others recoil? Can you lose your good name for another’s salvation? Can you remain silent while God alone knows? There begins the path of the saints. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:03:39 Janine: Yes 00:04:07 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Evergetinos Volume III page 2 section 2 00:05:06 Janine: Father ..do you think the Holy Spirit is dismantling us throughout our whole life? Or is it a later stage? 00:06:06 Janine: Yes..that makes sense! 00:11:20 Sam: Greetings 🙏 from Australia Father. 00:14:06 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Evergetinos Volume III page 2 section 2 00:15:15 Sam: Quick question Fr. How can we bring love for the Desert Fathers in our church divided by modernism and other ideologies including sedevacantism 00:16:52 Sam: I often find people including priests aren't interested when I suggest books such as ladder of divine ascent. 00:17:01 Sam: Gday 00:18:59 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Evergetinos Volume III page 2 section 2 00:31:25 Maureen Cunningham: Maybe he saw them as his daughters 00:46:14 Anthony: Should you point out that it's not a great idea for a young person to do this 00:54:54 Kate: I understand what you are saying about being courageous. What about not wanting to put ourselves in the path of temptation? Was the monk confident that he would not fall into temptation? Can we ever be sure that we would not succumb? 00:54:56 Maureen Cunningham: Mother Theresa 00:55:59 Danny Moulton: Years ago a co-worker once invited me to a Bible study and began his invitation with the words, "I don't know if you/re a Christian or not, but if you are ..." It was one of the most convicting moments of my life. 00:56:13 Joan Chakonas: What’s great about the writing and documentation of these actions of these monks is that it is such a gift of God to set forth the benefits of taking action in spite of the obvious risk. 00:59:49 Janine: Reacted to "What’s great about t…" with 🩷 01:01:08 Joan Chakonas: Reacted to "What’s great about the writing and documentation of these actions of these monks is that it is such a gift of God to set forth the benefits of taking action in spite of the obvious risk." with 🩷 01:02:36 Forrest: That humble monk securely cloaked the women with something greater than Constantine's mantle. 01:07:27 John ‘Jack’: I purchased a new business vehicle recently, it was non descriptive, plain white, I thought for a while about leaving it that way after 35 yrs in business I’m really not that concerned about the advertising aspect, but I had to admit I drove with a bit less professionalism with the blank van than I otherwise would have. I’ve since lettered it, for my sanctities sake . 01:08:30 Forrest: Reacted to "I purchased a new bu..." with ❤️ 01:17:51 Sam: Many saints have gone to the gates of hell to save souls. The common denominator is the extent of their holiness, formation and prudence plus virtues 01:20:43 Maureen Cunningham: Thank you Blessing 01:21:17 Andrew Adams: Thanks be to God! Thank you, Father! 01:21:19 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:21:22 Bob Čihák, AZ: Thank you and love you, Father. 01:21:27 Julie: God bless
Transcribe →Pentecost Retreat - Session Two
Apr 2101:45:06Tap to summarizeThe Fire That Remains Life in the Spirit After the Collapse of the Religious Self Week II — Remaining in the Fire Without Rebuilding the Self The Spirit as the One Who Teaches Us to Endure ⸻ Opening Invocation O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of blessings and Giver of life, Come and dwell in us, Cleanse us from every impurity, And save our souls, O Good One. ⸻ I. After the Collapse — The More Dangerous Work Begins Last week we spoke of the fire. Of illumination. Of exposure. Of the collapse of the false life. But there is something more dangerous than never entering this fire. It is entering it and then leaving too soon. Because once a man has begun to see once the structures begin to loosen once the illusions begin to fall there arises an almost irresistible need: 1 To stabilize. To regain footing. To become something again. Even if that “something” is humbler. Even if it is quieter. Even if it uses the language of repentance. The self does not disappear easily. It adapts. It reforms. It survives even inside what appears to be its own death. And so the second work of the Spirit is not simply to expose. It is to keep a man in the place where exposure continues. ⸻ II. The Subtle Rebuilding of the Religious Self You will begin to notice this almost immediately. A thought arises: “I understand now.” “I see more clearly.” “I am different than I was.” And these thoughts feel true. They feel justified. They feel like the fruit of grace. 2 But hidden within them is the beginning of reconstruction. Because the ego does not need grand illusions. It can build itself out of something very small. Even the awareness of one’s own brokenness. Even the language of humility. You begin to identify yourself as: The one who sees The one who has suffered The one who is being purified The one who understands the deeper life And without realizing it you have become something again. Subtler. More refined. But still centered in yourself. “Do not trust in your own righteousness.” — cf. Luke 18:9 The Pharisee was not condemned for sin. He was condemned because he became something in his own eyes. And this is the danger now. ⸻ III. The Spirit Leads Into a Place With No Ground The Spirit does something that feels unbearable. 3 He removes not only falsehood but also the ground beneath your feet. You cannot rely on what you once knew. You cannot return to previous ways of praying. You cannot even take comfort in what seems like progress. Everything becomes unstable. And this is not confusion. It is purification. Because as long as a man has ground he stands on himself. Even if that ground is spiritual. Even if it is noble. Even if it is built on real experiences. The Spirit removes this. So that a man learns something new: To stand without standing. To remain without possessing. To live without securing himself. ⸻ IV. The Poverty of Not Knowing There is a kind of darkness here. 4 Not the darkness of sin. But the darkness of not knowing. You no longer know: Where you are. What is happening. Who you are becoming. You cannot interpret your life. You cannot explain your interior state. And the mind resists this violently. Because the mind wants clarity. It wants to define. It wants to grasp. But the Spirit teaches a man to let go of knowing. “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 45/46) Not: Understand and know. Explain and know. Analyze and know. Be still. And this stillness feels like death to the mind. Because the mind loses its authority. ⸻ 5 V. The Prayer That Remains When Everything Else Falls At this stage, prayer changes. It becomes poorer. Simpler. More fragile. You may find that you cannot pray as before. Words feel empty. Thoughts feel forced. Even spiritual reading feels distant. And what remains? Often only this: A cry. Or even less than a cry. A turning. A presence. The Jesus Prayer begins to take on a different character. Not as something you do. But as something you cling to when everything else has fallen away. “Prayer is the refuge of help... a haven that rescues from the tempest.” — St. Isaac the Syrian Not a method. Not a discipline. But a lifeline. 6 And even this may feel dry. And still you remain. ⸻ VI. The Temptation to Interpret the Process One of the greatest dangers here is the need to interpret what is happening. To name it. To define it. To place it within a framework. You begin to say: “This is purification.” “This is the dark night.” “This is growth.” And while these things may not be false they become a way of regaining control. Because once something is named it is contained. And the Spirit resists this containment. He leads a man into something that cannot be mastered. Cannot be reduced. Cannot be explained. Because the goal is not understanding. It is transformation. 7 And transformation often happens in a way that the mind cannot follow. ⸻ VII. The Hidden Work of Endurance What, then, is required? Very little. And everything. Not effort in the way we understand it. But endurance. To remain in prayer even when it feels empty. To remain turned toward God even when nothing is felt. To remain in truth even when it exposes you again and again. This is not passive. It is a quiet, fierce consent. A willingness to be worked upon. A refusal to flee. “In your patience possess your souls.” (Luke 21:19) The fathers speak of this as long-suffering. But we often misunderstand this. It is not merely enduring hardship. It is enduring the work of God within us. 8 ⸻ VIII. The Fear of Losing Everything At some point, a deeper fear emerges. Not just the fear of being seen. But the fear of losing everything. Your sense of self. Your sense of direction. Even your sense of God. Because God Himself may seem hidden. Silent. Distant. And this is where many turn back. Not into sin. But into something safer. Something more defined. Something more manageable. But the Spirit leads further. Into a place where even God is not grasped. But only trusted. “Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68) Not: Lord, I understand. Lord, I feel. Lord, I possess. 9 But: To whom shall we go? There is nowhere else. So we remain. ⸻ IX. The Beginning of True Freedom And slowly, something begins to change. Not dramatically. Not in a way that can be grasped. But subtly. The need to define begins to loosen. The need to possess begins to fade. The need to be something begins to weaken. And a different kind of freedom appears. Not the freedom to act. But the freedom not to construct yourself. A quietness. A simplicity. A lightness. You begin to exist without constantly referring back to yourself. And this is the beginning of life in the Spirit. 10 Not power. Not experience. But freedom from the tyranny of self. ⸻ X. Closing Exhortation Do not flee this place. Do not rush to understand. Do not rebuild what is being taken from you. Remain. Even when you do not know how to remain. Even when prayer feels empty. Even when God feels distant. Remain. Because the Spirit is not absent. He is working more deeply than you can perceive. And what He is forming in you cannot be formed in any other way. ⸻ 11 Closing Prayer Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Thou who didst endure the silence of the Cross, grant us the grace to endure the silence within our own hearts. Teach us to remain when all else falls away. Deliver us from the need to grasp, to define, to become something. And grant that, in losing ourselves, we may find our life hidden in Thee. Amen. 12
Transcribe →The Ascetical Homilies of St. Isaac the Syrian - Homily IX, Part II
Apr 2101:08:00Tap to summarizeThere is a sobriety in the Fathers that cuts deeper than anything sentimental, yet within that severity there burns a tenderness that refuses to let the soul perish in despair. St Isaac does not flatter us. He does not pretend that the path of virtue is smooth or that the life in Christ removes conflict. He names things as they are. Falls, compulsions, resistance, long warfare. The soul that sets itself toward God will know all of these, and not once but continually. There is no illusion here of steady ascent without rupture. The one who seeks purity will also know fragmentation. But Isaac draws a line that must never be crossed. There are falls, and then there is the death of the soul. The fall is not the end. It is not even the greatest danger. The true catastrophe is to forget the love of the Father and to abandon the struggle. It is not sin that destroys us in the end, but the turning away from God in despair, the quiet consent that says there is no use in rising again. The Fathers are relentless on this point. Even if a man falls into manifold transgressions, even if each day ends in defeat, still he must not cease. He must rise again, and not reluctantly but with determination, laying once more the foundation of what has been ruined. Not once, not occasionally, but each day. This is where the tenderness of Isaac appears, though it is clothed in the language of battle. He does not demand perfection. He demands endurance. He does not say, do not fall. He says, do not remain fallen. The image he gives is almost unbearable in its honesty. A ship broken, cargo lost, everything swallowed by the deep. And yet he tells us to return again to the sea, to acquire new goods, even to borrow if necessary, and to set out once more in hope. This is not optimism. It is something far more costly. It is trust in the mercy of God that persists even when experience seems to contradict it. Such a man Isaac calls wise. Not the one who has preserved himself from all wounds, but the one who has not cut off his hope. This is the wisdom granted by God. The Admonition of Abba Martinian intensifies this vision. The struggle will be long. The warfare will be fierce. The passions, the world, the demons will not relent. And even the one who is earnest, who desires purity, will stumble. But the command remains unyielding. Do not grow faint-hearted. Do not turn back. Do not surrender your soul to defeat even in the very moment of defeat. There is something profoundly human in this. The Fathers know the shame of falling, the exhaustion of repeated failure, the temptation to withdraw from the battle. They know the voice that says it is useless to continue. And precisely there they speak with the authority of those who have endured. Continue. Even if wounded. Even if humiliated. Even if the fall is visible to all. Continue. For what is truly terrible is not that a man has sinned, but that he has made peace with sin. Not that he has been struck down, but that he has extended his hand to the enemy and accepted defeat as final. In doing so he loses not only the struggle but the very boldness before God, the freedom of prayer, the communion of the righteous. And yet even here the door is not closed unless the soul itself closes it. The entire exhortation rests on this unspoken but ever-present truth. The Father has not withdrawn His love. The light has not ceased to shine. Even in darkness, the Lord remains a light unto us. So the Christian life is not revealed as a steady triumph, but as a continual rising. Not a life without wounds, but a life that refuses to let wounds become a grave. The saints are not those who never fell, but those who would not consent to remain in the dust. This is the fierce consolation of the desert. As long as there is breath, the battle remains. As long as the battle remains, hope remains. And as long as hope remains, the mercy of God has not been exhausted. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:09:15 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 190 para 5 00:31:45 Jessica McHale: Can I ask how to build up these "fundamentals" again without trying to "recreate" the religious self to "improve" ? For me it gets blurry when I think about "disiplines" and inadvertently re-building the "religious self". 00:45:13 Nypaver Clan: Page? 00:46:55 Nypaver Clan: 191…..got it 00:49:32 David Swiderski, WI: I wonder if Meister Eckhardt was capturing the same in his quote-“The only thing that burns in hell is the part of you that won't let go of your life: your memories, your attachments. They burn them all away, but they're not punishing you, they're freeing your soul. If you're frightened of dying and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away. If you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels freeing you from the earth.” 00:56:44 Una: Matt Talbot from Dublin. A layman 01:00:00 David Swiderski, WI: Or the Father Stu movie 01:14:00 David Swiderski, WI: 2 Corinthians 4:17-18: “For our light and momentary affliction is producing for us an eternal glory that far outweighs our troubles. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 01:14:43 Art iPhone: Reacted to "2 Corinthians 4:17-18: “For our light and momentary affliction is producing for us an eternal glory that far outweighs our troubles. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”" with 👍 01:14:50 Janine: “We guard ourselves too carefully from the outward difficulties encountered in giving ourselves over to the will of God, and so we lose the good fruits that are reaped in difficult circumstances endured with humility. “Bishop Nikolai Velimirovic 01:14:54 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "“We guard ourselves ..." with ❤️ 01:15:11 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "2 Corinthians 4:17-1..." with ❤️ 01:20:12 Rebecca Thérèse: Try talking about women saints if you want men to come. At the monastery of Montserrat nr 01:20:27 Janine: That is from Prayers by the lake 01:20:46 Rebecca Thérèse: near Barcelona all the decorations in the church are of female saints😂 01:22:08 Jessica McHale: Thank you, Father! Your words are so very helpful. Praise God. Prayers for you and your mother! 01:22:09 David Swiderski, WI: Thank you Father may God bless you, your mother and this group. 01:22:10 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:22:18 Kevin Burke: Thank You Father! 01:22:28 jonathan: God bless! thank you Father
Transcribe →Pentecost Retreat - Session One
Apr 1401:48:22Tap to summarizeThe Fire That Remains Life in the Spirit After the Collapse of the Religious Self Week I — The Fire That Reveals the False Life Pentecost and the Beginning of the Dismantling in the Spirit ⸻ Opening Invocation O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of blessings and Giver of life, Come and dwell in us, Cleanse us from every impurity, And save our souls, O Good One. ⸻ I. The Fire Has Come — And Nothing Remains Hidden Pentecost is not comfort. It is fire. And the tragedy is that most Christians have learned to speak of the Spirit as though He were gentle in a way that leaves us intact. As though He were a consolation that confirms what we already are. But the Spirit who descends at Pentecost is the same Spirit who drove Christ into the wilderness. The same Spirit who descends as tongues of fire rests upon men and begins to undo them. Not improve them. Not refine them. 1 Undo them. Because what we call “the spiritual life” is often nothing more than a refined version of the same self we have always been. Religious. Structured. Disciplined. Even devout. But still centered in itself. Still subtly seeking itself. Still preserving itself. And the Spirit does not come to decorate that life. He comes to expose it. ⸻ II. The First Work of the Spirit — Illumination That Wounds When the Spirit comes, He brings light. But this light is not what we expect. It is not merely the light of understanding. It is not simply insight or clarity. It is the light that shows you what you are. And this is why so many turn away from it. Because the first gift of the Spirit is not consolation. It is truth. “For everyone who does evil hates the light... lest his deeds should be exposed.” (John 3:20) 2 And the truth is unbearable to a heart that has built itself on illusion. You begin to see: That much of your prayer was self-seeking. That your devotion was mixed with vanity. That your desire for God was entangled with a desire to feel something, to be something, to be seen as something. You begin to see how deeply rooted the self is even in your most sacred actions. And this is the moment where everything is decided. Because at this point, a man either: Steps back into illusion and begins again to construct a spiritual identity Or He remains. He allows himself to be seen. And wounded. ⸻ III. The Religious Self Cannot Survive the Spirit The Lenten work began the dismantling. But Pentecost intensifies it. Because now the dismantling is no longer external. It is interior. The Spirit enters the heart and begins to uncover the hidden foundations of the self. 3 Not the obvious sins. Those are easy. But the deeper things: The need to be right. The need to be secure. The need to be recognized. The need to feel that one’s life has coherence and meaning. Even the need to feel that one is progressing spiritually. All of this is brought into the light. And slowly, painfully, it begins to collapse. This is why the fathers speak so rarely of “experiences.” Because the true work of the Spirit is not the giving of experiences. It is the removal of illusions. “The Holy Spirit... shows man his sins.” — St. Silouan the Athonite And this feels like death. Because it is death. ⸻ IV. The Terror of Seeing Without Defenses There comes a moment when the usual defenses no longer work. You cannot console yourself with prayer in the same way. You cannot rely on your thoughts. Even spiritual thoughts begin to feel empty. The structures that once held your life together 4 begin to loosen. And you are left with something you did not expect: Yourself. Not the self you imagined. But the self stripped of its justifications. The self without its narrative. The self that cannot explain itself or defend itself or present itself. And this is terrifying. Because the ego does not fear sin as much as it fears exposure. It would rather remain sick than be seen as it is. But the Spirit does not allow this. He brings a man to the place where he can no longer hide from himself. And this is the beginning of true repentance. ⸻ V. Repentance as Ontological Collapse Repentance is often misunderstood. It is not simply sorrow for sin. It is not even a change of behavior. It is a change in being. A collapse. 5 A realization that what I have called “myself” is not stable, not whole, not real in the way I thought. That it has been constructed through fear, through desire, through imagination. And that it cannot stand in the presence of God. This is why repentance feels like dying. Because something is dying. “A heart that is broken and humbled God will not despise.” (Psalm 50/51) The illusion of self-sufficiency. The illusion of spiritual competence. The illusion that I can come to God as something. The Spirit dismantles all of this. And leaves a man empty. ⸻ VI. The Poverty the Spirit Creates And here is the paradox: This emptiness is not abandonment. It is the first true gift. Because only a poor heart can receive God. As long as a man is full of himself even in subtle ways he cannot receive the Spirit. He can speak about Him. He can think about Him. He can even feel things that he attributes to Him. 6 But he cannot receive Him. Because the Spirit does not dwell in a heart that is occupied. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 5:3) So the Spirit empties. Gently at times. Violently at others. But always with precision. Until a man stands before God without pretense. Without claims. Without identity. Simply present. ⸻ VII. The Refusal to Escape At this stage, the greatest temptation is escape. Not into obvious sin. But into something far more subtle: Reconstruction. You begin to rebuild. A slightly humbler version of yourself. A more “spiritual” identity. A narrative that explains your suffering and gives it meaning. 7 And this is where the process is lost. Because the ego can rebuild itself even out of its own dismantling. “He who trusts in himself is a fool.” (Proverbs 28:26) It can take the language of humility and turn it into a new identity. It can take the experience of emptiness and make it into something to possess. And so the call here is severe: Do not rebuild. Remain in the poverty. Remain in the not-knowing. Remain in the exposure. This is where the Spirit works. ⸻ VIII. The Spirit Does Not Hurry We want resolution. We want clarity. We want to arrive. But the Spirit does not work according to our timelines. He is patient. Because He is not forming an experience. He is forming a person. 8 And this cannot be rushed. So there are long periods where nothing seems to happen. Where prayer feels dry. Where understanding does not increase. Where the heart feels empty. But something is happening. Deep beneath the surface. The roots of the self are being loosened. Attachments are being severed. The ground is being prepared. “Without temptations no one can be saved.” — St. Isaac the Syrian And this hidden work is more real than anything we can perceive. ⸻ IX. The Beginning of Life in the Spirit This is where life in the Spirit begins. Not in power. Not in clarity. But in poverty. A heart that no longer trusts itself. A mind that no longer clings to its own thoughts. A will that begins to soften. This is the beginning. And it is fragile. 9 Because everything in us wants to return to something more solid. Something more definable. But the Spirit leads us into a different kind of life. A life that is not built on possession but on dependence. Not on certainty but on trust. Not on identity but on relationship. ⸻ X. Closing Exhortation Do not be afraid of what the Spirit reveals. Do not turn away when you begin to see yourself. Do not rush to rebuild what He is dismantling. Remain. Even if it feels like death. Especially then. Because this is not destruction. It is purification. It is the beginning of truth. And the heart that endures this fire 10 will come to know something that cannot be taken away: Not a constructed self. But a life hidden in Christ. ⸻ Closing Prayer Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, send down Thy Holy Spirit upon us. Burn away every illusion. Expose every falsehood. Strip us of everything that is not of Thee. Grant us the courage to remain in the poverty Thou givest. That, emptied of ourselves, we may be filled with Thy life. Amen. ⸻ 11
Transcribe →The Evergetinos: Book Two - Chapter L, Part III and Book Three - Chapter I, Part I
Apr 1401:08:10Tap to summarizeThe Fathers bring us to a place where the soul is stripped of every illusion about itself. We imagine that we see clearly. We imagine that we understand others. We imagine that our words are necessary. And they tell us plainly. Be silent. A brother burns with the thought that he must speak, must reveal, must correct. Yet the Elder cuts through this urgency without hesitation. Say nothing. The Lord will take care of it. This is not indifference. This is faith. We speak because we do not trust God. We intervene because we believe that without us truth will not prevail. Beneath much of what we call zeal lies anxiety for ourselves and a hidden desire to justify our own heart. The Fathers do not negotiate with this. Silence is safer than righteousness mixed with passion. And if a brother has been exposed, even unjustly, how is he to respond? Not with self defense. Not with resentment. Not even with a demand for justice. He is to believe that the one who spoke did so for his good. This is a word that wounds the heart. To receive accusation as love. To give thanks for what humbles. To increase in love for the one who has caused pain. This is not psychology. This is the Cross. The one who lives in this way makes swift progress because he has stepped outside the logic of the world. He no longer defends an identity. He entrusts himself entirely to God. And so correction itself is transformed. The Fathers do not permit harshness born of agitation. If the heart is disturbed, the mouth must remain closed. Words spoken in turmoil do not heal. They infect. One must wait. Wait until the heart becomes still. Wait until peace returns. Then speak quietly, as if into the ear of the brother. Even here there is no formula. One must discern the soul before him. One must become small. One must abandon the authority that comes from position and take on the authority that comes from humility. And even then, correction may not be received. It does not matter. One has done what is given. God will do what remains. The Fathers expose something deeper still. Even acts of humility can be poisoned. A prostration can be filled with vainglory. Silence can conceal indifference. Authority can corrupt the mind without being noticed. Pride, the sense of power, and vainglory move quietly within everything. If these are not despised, nothing bears fruit. So the soul stands in a narrow place. Do not speak out of passion. Do not remain silent out of negligence. Do not correct to justify yourself. Do not humble yourself to be seen. There is no resting place here. Only vigilance. Only repentance. Only the slow purification of the heart. And then the Fathers place before us a final blow to our presumption. A monk is seen with a woman. He is judged. He is condemned. He is beaten. Even a saint is deceived. The Patriarch believes he is acting with zeal. The accusers believe they are protecting righteousness. All are certain. All are wrong. The truth is hidden. The monk bears wounds without protest. His life is pure. His intention is love. He carries a soul toward Christ while others condemn him in the name of Christ. This is the blindness of the fallen mind. We see appearances. We draw conclusions. We act with confidence. And we wound the righteous. Only when God Himself reveals the truth does the illusion collapse. And what is revealed is terrifying in its simplicity. There are servants of God hidden everywhere. Unknown. Misunderstood. Condemned. And we pass judgment on them with ease. The monk refuses even the gift offered to him. If a monk has faith, he has no need of money. If he loves money, he has lost faith. His freedom exposes everyone. His silence judges without speaking. His life reveals that the Kingdom of God is not what we imagine. The Fathers leave us with nothing to hold onto except this. Guard your tongue. Distrust your judgment. Humble yourself in all things. And entrust everything to God. Because the moment we believe that we see clearly, we have already fallen into darkness. And the moment we cease to defend ourselves and others before God, something begins to open.A way of seeing that is not our own. A love that does not accuse. A silence in which God Himself speaks. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:22:28 jonathan: 1 John 5:16-17 If anyone sees his brother sinning, if the sin is not deadly, he should pray to God and he will give him life. This is only for those whose sin is not deadly. There is such a thing as deadly sin, about which I do not say that you should pray. All wrongdoing is sin, but there is sin that is not deadly. 00:27:25 Julie: Good book Searching for and maintaining peace by Father Jacques Philippe 00:28:50 jonathan: Yes it was Paul, he mentioned it in both 1 Timothy 1:19–20 and 1 Corinthians 5:5 00:34:46 Forrest: The Greek word here is not usually one for "Sin". It is more like making mistakes, as far as I read it. 00:42:13 Erick Chastain: Elder Aimilianos says that for some characters to be gentle with them is to make them a demon. 00:56:26 Joan Chakonas: Interesting that there are very few situations when in the course of my lay life I am called upon to make correction of another. I hope that if such a need arises I find a way to do it- with Gods guidance-because I sort of approach my duty to God like my job here on earth and I have to make it happen. I imagine the need for correction arises out of a need to avoid harm to a third party. 01:00:00 Kevin Burke: I wrote down that we started volume 2 on 11/27/23 01:14:18 Julie: It reminds me of the story of the monk that was an alcoholic and died. 01:16:31 Joan Chakonas: My takeaway was how easy it is to make a wildly wrong judgment . 01:18:46 Lorraine: Thank you 01:18:49 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:18:55 Andrew Adams: Thanks be to God! Thank you, Father! 01:18:58 Joan Chakonas: Thanks Father! 01:19:01 Kevin Burke: Thank You Father! 01:19:06 Jessica McHale: Thank you! Many prayers!!!!! 01:19:16 jonathan: Thanks Father, God bless❤️ 01:19:29 Caroline: Thank you ♥️
Transcribe →The Evergetinos: Book Two - Chapter L, Part II
Apr 1001:05:48Tap to summarizeWe want to help. We want to fix. We want to speak the right word at the right time and be the instrument of someone’s healing. And hidden beneath all of it, almost always, is something far less pure. We do not trust that God can work without us. ⸻ The Fathers cut through this illusion without mercy, but not without compassion. A man begins to speak and sees that his heart is stirred by vainglory. Not always in the moment. Sometimes afterward. The sweetness comes later. The memory of being useful. Of being seen. Of being right. So he asks the obvious question. Should I remain silent? The Elder refuses the simplicity of that escape. Silence is not purity if it is chosen to protect one’s image. Speech is not corruption if it is offered in obedience. The issue is not whether you speak or remain silent. The issue is whether you are willing to be exposed. If a word must be spoken for the sake of another, then speak it. But do not pretend you are clean. Do not wait until your heart is free of vainglory. It will not be. Speak, and then stand before God and accuse yourself. “I spoke with vainglory.” This is the path. Not control. Not perfection. But truth. ⸻ We prefer another way. We want to purify our motives before acting. We want to feel clean before we speak. We want to be certain that what we say is necessary, righteous, even indispensable. This is fantasy. It is a refined form of pride. ⸻ The Fathers show us something far more severe. There are times when speaking is required. There are times when silence is required. And we are rarely capable of discerning which is which on our own. So we are placed under obedience. When something disturbs us, we assume it must be addressed. We feel the agitation in the heart and call it discernment. We speak to relieve ourselves and call it charity. The Elder names it plainly. If you speak to quiet your own heart, you have already fallen. This is devastating. Because it exposes how much of what we call concern is nothing more than self-protection. We do not want the discomfort. We do not want the tension. We do not want to suffer the presence of what is unresolved. So we speak. Not to heal. But to escape. ⸻ And when others are disturbed, we cloak ourselves even more skillfully. “I am speaking for them.” The Fathers do not deny that responsibility exists. But they strip it of illusion. You are not the healer. You are not the judge. You are not the one who must set things right. Bring it to the Abba. Submit it. Be freed from the illusion that everything depends on your intervention. This is where our resistance intensifies. Because submission feels like passivity. And passivity feels like failure. But what we are being asked to surrender is not action. It is control. ⸻ There is also fear. “If I speak, he will hate me.” The Elder calls this thought what it is. Evil. Not because the fear is imaginary, but because it shifts the center away from God to human reaction. It makes peace, reputation, and emotional safety the measure of truth. The image is stark. A sick man resents the physician. But the physician does not stop the treatment. If you are to act, act in God. Not to be liked. Not to be justified. Not to be safe. ⸻ And then the final blow. What if you see clearly that your desire to speak is poisoned? That you want to accuse, to expose, to correct in a way that elevates yourself? Then do not pretend. Do not remain silent in false righteousness. Do not speak in hidden judgment. Confess your sickness. Go to the Abba and say, “I want to accuse. I cannot purify my heart.” Now something real can begin. Not only the healing of your brother. But your own. ⸻ This is the truth we resist. God is not waiting for our perfect words. He is not dependent upon our interventions. He is not hindered by our silence. But He will not heal the heart that refuses to be seen as it is. ⸻ We want to be useful. The Fathers want us to be honest. Because only the honest man can be entrusted with speech. And only the one who has relinquished control can remain silent without bitterness. ⸻ In the end, the question is not this: Should I speak or remain silent? The question is this: Am I willing to let God work without securing a place for myself in the outcome? Until that is answered, both our silence and our speech will remain infected. And yet, even this is not the end. Speak when you must. Remain silent when you must. And in both, stand before God and say the only true word: “I am not pure. Have mercy.” --- Text of chat during the group: 00:02:58 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 373 Volume II number 4 00:07:46 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 373, # 4, top paragraph 00:09:54 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 00:14:14 Janine: Christ is Risen! 00:15:07 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 00:15:19 Bob Čihák, AZ: American English translation: You BET He's risen!!! 00:16:09 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 373, # 4, top paragraph 00:23:53 Maureen Cunningham: Job He get up and makes sac fries for his children . In case they would sin 00:58:22 John ‘Jack’: Some of the best council I’ve ever received was “you’re in a difficult situation” it wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it gave me immense clarity. 01:19:11 Danny Moulton: It seems that tonight's learnings require a great deal of trust that God can handle another person's shortcomings without our "invaluable" help. 01:19:25 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "It seems that tonigh..." with 👍 01:20:11 Una: Reacted to "It seems that toni..." with 👍 01:21:42 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you. Happy Easter everyone!☺️ 01:21:45 Bob Čihák, AZ: Bless you, Father. 01:22:14 Jessica McHale: Many prayers to you and our mom!
Transcribe →The Ascetical Homilies of St. Isaac the Syrian - Homily VIII, Part IV & IX, Part I
Apr 1001:04:44Tap to summarizeThere is a clarity in the Fathers that we often resist because it leaves us no place to hide. They do not flatter the human condition. They do not soften the reality of sin. They do not pretend that the spiritual life is anything other than a battle that reaches into the depths of our thoughts, our desires, our bodies, and our will. They name things as they are. We are weak. We are unstable. We are easily turned. Even when we desire the good, we fail to do it. Even when we hate sin, we fall into it. And yet, they are not severe in the way the world is severe. Because at the heart of their vision is not condemnation, but God. Hope in Him is the foundation of everything. Not hope in ourselves. Not hope in our effort, our consistency, or our understanding. But hope in the One who “abundantly pours forth righteousness,” and in whom there is no injustice. This hope is not sentimental. It is forged precisely in the experience of our instability. It is born when every illusion about ourselves begins to collapse, and we see that if we are to live, it must be by His mercy alone. This is why God permits what we fear. St. Isaac speaks with a boldness that unsettles us: the insults, the illnesses, the humiliations, the intrusive thoughts, the warfare of the demons, the instability of mind and body—these are not signs of abandonment. They are gifts, though bitter ones. They are the means by which the heart is broken open, by which prayer becomes real, by which a man is drawn out of himself and made to cry out to God without distraction. God wounds in order to heal. Not arbitrarily. Not cruelly. But because without this, we would remain imprisoned in negligence, in pride, in the quiet assumption that we are capable of sustaining ourselves. Humility, then, is not a virtue we adopt. It is the truth revealed in us when we see our condition clearly. It is the knowledge that we are created, changeable, dependent—that at any moment we can fall, that we cannot preserve ourselves, that we require the power of another for even the smallest good. And this knowledge, if it is embraced, becomes the door to everything. Because the one who knows his weakness will not trust himself. And the one who does not trust himself will begin to trust God. This is the beginning of the path—and the way one remains on it. For as soon as we forget this, we fall into negligence. And negligence is not simply laziness; it is a kind of spiritual sleep, a dulling of the heart, a quiet turning away from vigilance. And when this happens, St. Isaac tells us something that pierces deeply: we are handed over. Not as punishment in the human sense, but as awakening. We are allowed to fall into the very things that reveal us to ourselves. The thoughts we thought we had conquered return. The passions we thought were gone reappear. The weakness we ignored becomes undeniable. And in this, we are shaken—not to destroy us, but to rouse us from illusion. So that we might begin again, but this time in truth. And here the Fathers make a distinction that is as compassionate as it is exacting. Not all sin is the same. There are sins born of weakness, of ignorance, of habit, of the long war within the flesh. There are sins that wound the heart precisely because they are not desired, that bring grief, that provoke tears, that drive a man back to God. And near to such a man, St. Isaac says, mercy is undoubtedly present. But there is another path. The path of negligence embraced. The path where a man abandons the struggle, not because he is weak, but because he no longer wishes to fight. Where he becomes inventive in sin, obedient to it, even zealous for it. Where repentance is postponed, ignored, or despised. This is the tragedy. Not that we fall, but that we cease to care that we have fallen. The Fathers are unyielding here. Because love demands truth. The measure is not perfection, but direction. Not sinlessness, but the heart’s orientation. Does a man grieve his fall? Does he turn again? Does he remain in the arena, even if wounded, even if ashamed, even if confused? If so, he is not far from God. And so the word that emerges from all of this is both fierce and consoling. Give thanks for everything. Not because everything is good in itself, but because God uses everything for our healing. Even our falls, when met with repentance, become a place of encounter. Even our weakness becomes a teacher. Even the most bitter experiences, when received with faith, become the ground of humility, and therefore of grace. Blame yourself, says Isaac—not in despair, not in self-hatred, but in truth. Refuse to accuse God. Refuse to abandon the struggle. Refuse to let your fall become a justification for further distance. Remain. This is the radical vision. A man stripped of illusion. A man who knows his weakness. A man who endures the warfare. A man who falls and rises, falls and rises again. A man who gives thanks in all things. A man who entrusts himself entirely to the mercy of God. Such a man, though wounded, is being healed. Such a man, though weak, is being sanctified. Such a man, though nothing in himself, is held by the goodness and love of God—and will not be lost. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:01:19 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 187 paragraph 10 00:05:15 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 00:06:57 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/to-become-fire-and-person 00:12:58 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 187 paragraph 10 00:13:27 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 00:13:43 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/to-become-fire-and-person 00:22:57 Jessica McHale: So, if a person has fear/anxiety about something in their life, coudl it be that the fear/anxiety someoen feels is God's way to humble us to trust in Him rather than give in to the fear? Is fear a way to humble us so we have total trust in Him? 00:43:05 Maureen Cunningham: Anger would be passion that is a habbit 00:43:08 Erick Chastain: An instance of this: I sometimes hear secular people in the world say things like "my patience has its limits". People in the world have very low standards sometimes. 00:43:17 Eleana Urrego: One of the promises of the rosary praying is be deliverance from addictions and obsessions. 00:48:05 David Swiderski, WI: A spiritual director had used to quote Oscar Wilde- We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell . Adding Christ came to save us from ourselves. 00:48:28 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "A spiritual director..." with 👍🏼 00:49:22 Una: Can you unpack "hypostatic person" a bit? Thanks. 00:49:35 Eleana Urrego: Hell is absence of God 00:49:54 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "Can you unpack "hypo..." with 👍🏼 00:51:14 David Swiderski, WI: It is not I that live but Christ in me 01:02:03 Elizabeth Richards: Back to humility of heart 01:02:16 Elizabeth Richards: dependence 01:04:59 David Swiderski, WI: That's just the way I am is how I see this expressed 01:07:14 Eleana Urrego: Father, when you say not to excuse praying time, it might also sound like it's up to me to become a saint by my own effort, and that might be religious pride, as you mention in the retreat. 01:11:19 Aaron Johnson: Hi Father, would any form of laxity in prayer/spiritual life due to physical fatigue (physical illness for example), how can one discern if their laxity is either due to weakness or from religious pride? 01:15:31 Elizabeth Richards: When is the retreat? 01:16:12 Eleana Urrego: wow I was not aware, thanks 01:16:17 Kate: htt...
Transcribe →The Ascetical Homilies of St. Isaac the Syrian - Homily VIII, Part III
Apr 1000:59:41Tap to summarizeThere is a humility that we speak about. And there is a humility that is given. The first is clean. Understandable. Manageable. The second is devastating. Saint Isaac does not speak of an idea. He speaks of a man who has seen something in himself, not once, but repeatedly, until illusion collapses. “A man who has reached this in truth and not in fancy…” This is the dividing line. Most of what we call humility is still fantasy. A posture. A tone. A self-perception. But true humility is born only when a man has been brought face to face with his own instability, his own powerlessness, his own inability to sustain even the smallest good without God. Not conceptually. Existentially. ⸻ This is why Isaac says that everything begins with the recognition of one’s weakness. Not as an idea. But as a state of being. A man comes to see that he cannot hold himself together. He cannot secure his own heart. He cannot even pray without distraction, without resistance, without collapse. And from this recognition, something begins to cry out. Not beautifully. Not eloquently. But desperately. Out of need. Out of poverty. Out of a knowledge that if God does not draw near, he will fall apart. This is the beginning of real prayer. Not devotion. Dependence. ⸻ And yet here is the scandal. God does not always respond as we expect. He draws near . . . yes. But not always by removing the trial. Not always by granting the request. Sometimes He withholds. Not out of indifference, but out of wisdom. Because the very delay becomes the means by which the soul is held near Him. Isaac dares to say that God defers His help so that the man will not depart. So that he will remain in prayer. Remain in need. Remain in proximity. This is not cruelty. It is a love that refuses to let the soul return to self-sufficiency. ⸻ And more troubling still: God permits temptation. Not always. But at times. The assault comes. The fire burns. The instability is exposed again. And the man cries out: Why? Why does God not remove this? Why does He allow this struggle to continue? Isaac answers with a severity we would rather avoid: So that you may learn war. So that you may be instructed. So that you may know. Not in theory, but in experience; that without Him, you are nothing. ⸻ This is where humility is forged. Not in peace. But in exposure. Not in success. But in repeated failure. Not in clarity. But in the confusion of being unable to sustain oneself. The man who does not know this, Isaac says, walks on a razor’s edge. He may appear stable. Even virtuous. But he stands near the lion. The demon of pride. Because without the knowledge of one’s weakness, the soul inevitably attributes its stability to itself. And this is the beginning of the fall. ⸻ Humility cannot be acquired directly. It cannot be chosen as a virtue. It must be given through conditions that undo the illusion of strength. Through delay. Through struggle. Through temptation. Through the repeated discovery that one is not what one thought. This is why Isaac says that humility is acquired only by humility’s own means. Which is to say: By being brought low. By being shown the truth. By having the inner architecture of conceit quietly dismantled. ⸻ And here the most piercing word emerges. Without humility, a man’s work is not perfected. Even if it appears good. Even if it appears fruitful. It does not rise above fear. It is not sealed by the Spirit. It remains within the realm of the self. Unstable. Vulnerable. Unfounded. Because only humility forms the foundation that cannot be shaken. A city built on humility stands. A life built on anything else trembles. ⸻ And so we must ask: What if the very things we are trying to escape, the delay, the dryness, the temptation, the instability, are the very means by which God is drawing us near? What if the unanswered prayer is the mercy? What if the struggle that does not cease is the protection? What if the exposure of our weakness is the only way we will ever become real? ⸻ We want relief. God desires communion. We want stability. God gives us Himself. And He will not allow us to possess Him as long as we believe we can stand without Him. ⸻ The widow cries out before the unjust judge. Relentlessly. Without dignity. Without restraint. Because she knows she has no other hope. Isaac places this image before us for a reason. This is the posture of the humble man. Not composed. Not self-contained. But persistent. Needy. Unashamed. Because he has seen the truth. ⸻ In the end, humility is not thinking less of oneself. It is knowing, without illusion, that one cannot live without God. And not merely knowing...
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