Fr Justin of Chelje on St Isaac the Syrian & Gnoseology

[Note: per Esteban's comment below and a subsequent phone conversation with him, I have edited this post to avoid referring to Fr Justin explicitly by the title 'Saint'. As Esteban points out, he has not yet been glorified, and as there appears to be some confusion on this point—not least in my own mind!—I thought it best to observe some precision in that regard.]

I first discovered Fr Justin (Popovich) of Chelje in the inaugural issue of Divine Ascent (Vol. 1, No. 1, Great Lent 1997), where there was a brief Life of Fr Justin (pp. 12-16), three hymns in his honour (p. 17), a list of some of his more important writings (p. 18), a translation of his essay, ‘The Inward Mission of Our Church Bringing About Orthodoxy’ (pp. 19-25), and an interview about Fr Justin with Fr Peter Milosevich, ‘Father Justin Popovch: The Hidden Conscience of Orthodoxy’ (pp. 40-48). The effect of all of this material, on me at any rate, was tremendous. When I finally saw the volume, Orthodox Faith and Life in Christ, trans. Fr Asterios Gerostergios, et al. (Belmont, MA: Institute for Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 1994), at the Conciliar Press bookshop in Ben Lomond of all places, I snapped it up.

Aside from ‘The Inward Mission of Our Church’, which is found on pp. 21-31, I was similarly effected by the ‘Introduction to the Lives of the Saints’ (pp. 32-50) and ‘The Theory of Knowledge of St Isaac the Syrian’ (pp. 117-68). As a recent convert from Protestantism, I think it is safe to say these essays had a profound effect on my understanding of Orthodoxy. They certainly changed my reading habits. Besides extolling the virtues of this wonderful book, I thought I would use the occasion of having celebrated the memory of St Isaac the Syrian yesterday to quote two excerpts from the latter essay.

Truth is objectively given in the person of Christ, the God-man. But the way in which this becomes subjective—that is, the practical side of the Christian theory of knowledge—was fully developed by the Fathers, those experienced, holy, and evangelical philosophers. Among the most outstanding of these holy philosophers was the great ascetic, Isaac the Syrian. In his writings, with a rare understanding based on experience, he traces the process of the healing and purification of man’s organs of knowledge, his growth in understanding, and his progressive path through experience to the apprehension of eternal Truth. In the philosophy of St Isaac the Syrian, based on the experience of grace, the principles and methodology of the Orthodox theory of knowledge have found one of their most perfect expressions. I shall now try to sketch out this theory of knowledge, or gnoseology. (p. 120)

Then, in his conclusion, Fr Justin writes (p. 163):

There is no doubt that knowledge progresses through man’s virtues and regresses through the passions. Knowledge is like a fabric woven by the virtues on the loom of the human soul. The loom of the soul extends through all the visible and invisible worlds. The virtues are only powers creating knowledge; they are the principles and source of knowledge. By transforming the virtues into constituent elements of his being through ascetic endeavor, a man advances from knowledge to knowledge. It could even be possible to say that the virtues are the sense organs of knowledge. Advancing from one virtue to another, a man moves from one form of comprehension to another.

'This Glory of the Orient'—St Isaac the Syrian

Today we also celebrate the memory of our Venerable Father Isaac the Syrian, bishop of Nineveh (7th c.), the other great Syriac Father after Mår Efrêm. There is an account of St Isaac’s life here, and another here, the latter one including this interesting information:

After the death of the Monk Isaac of Syria, from the early VIII Century through the beginning XVIII Century, nothing was known about him in Europe except for his name and works. Only in the year 1719 at Rome was there published a biography of the monk, compiled by an anonymous Arab author. In 1896 the account about the Monk Isaac was enlarged upon. The learned French soteriologist Abbot Charbot published the works of the Syrian history of the VIII Century by Iezudena, bishop of Barsa, wherein was located the account about the Monk Isaac the Syrian.

But of course, even today St Isaac is known primarily for his writings. Sebastian Brock calls him ‘indubitably one of the most profound writers on spirituality produced by the Syriac Churches’ (The Syriac Fathers on Prayer and the Spiritual Life [Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian, 1987], p. 242). A.M. Allchin goes even further, calling St Isaac ‘one of the greatest spiritual writers of the Christian East’ (Introduction, Daily Readings with St Isaac of Syria, ed. A.M. Allchin, trans. Sebastian Brock [Springfield, IL: Templegate, 1990], p. 9).

Of course, our Orthodox writers go still further than Allchin. Archimandrite Vasileios of Iveron calls St Isaac ‘a measure for man, for life and for art and for action’ (‘Απο τον Αββά Ισαάκ στον Ντοστογιέβσκι’, Φώς Χριστού Φαίνει Πάσι [Karyes, Mt Athos: Holy Monastery of Iveron, 2002], p. 85), and elsewhere, ‘the great mystagogue of the mystery of humility’ (Abba Isaac the Syrian: An Approach to His World, trans. Elizabeth Theokritoff [Montréal: Alexander, 1999], p. 43). In a memorable passage (‘Encomium: An Offering of Praise to Saint Abba Isaac the Syrian, Inadequate for the Sublimity of Its Subject, but Written With Much Love’, The Ascetical Homilies of St Isaac the Syrian, trans. Dana Miller [Boston: Holy Transfiguration Monastery, 1984], p. lvii), Photios Kontoglou writes:

With the harmonious art of the tongue, come now, let us extol this humble wildflower of Syria, this gold-spangled fountain of immortality, this salt of the earth, this honeybee of virtue, this gold-stringed lute which ravishes the heart, this divinely-fashioned intellect, this glory of the Orient, this tremendous ocean, this enchanted light shining to unfathomed depths, this blessed child of God, and whatever else our tongue may call him, accustomed as it is to speak of trivialities.

Finally, according to Elder Joseph the Hesychast (qtd. in Ascetical Homilies, p. ix):

If all the writings of the desert fathers which teach us concerning watchfulness and prayer were lost and the writings of Abba Isaac the Syrian alone survived, they would suffice to teach one from beginning to end concerning the life of stillness and prayer. They are the Alpha and Omega of the life of watchfulness and interior prayer, and alone suffice to guide one from his first steps to perfection.

What are these gems of spiritual writing of which these men speak? I have quoted previously St Isaac’s famous words about the ‘merciful heart’, as well as one of my favourite passages concerning the humility of God here. In this post, I’d like to offer something I hadn’t come across before (since I read St Isaac fearfully, and, therefore, only fitfully). This is from ‘Homily Thirty-Six: On the Modes of Virtue’ (Ascetical Homilies, p. 161):

A small affliction borne for God’s sake is better before God than a great work performed without tribulation, because affliction willingly borne brings to light the proof of love. But a work of leisure proceeds from a self-satisfied conscience. That is why the saints were proved by tribulations for Christ’s love, and not by ease. For good works accomplished without toil are the righteousness of those in the world, who do righteous deeds with their possessions but not their bodies, thus gaining nothing within themselves. But you, O struggler, taste within yourself Christ’s suffering, that you may be deemd worthy of tasting His glory. For if we suffer with Him, then we are glorified with Him (cf. Rom. 8:17).

Here is one more, taken from ‘Homily Seventy-Six’ (Ascetical Homilies, p. 378):

Those who fear God, O beloved, are cheerfully assiduous in keeping the commandments, even if labours are required to do so and they imperil themselves for their sake. The Lifegiver confined the fullness of the commandments in, and made them to hang upon, two which embrace all: the love of God, and a love similar thereto, the love of His image. The first achieves the goal of the spirit’s divine vision. The second achieves the goal of divine vision and praxis. For since the Divine nature is simple, uncompounded, invisible, and naturally is not subject to want, the consciousness in its meditation does not naturally require praxis, nor any sort of physical activity, nor gross material concepts. Indeed, its operation is simple and it is active in one portion of the intellect, in a manner corresponding to the simplicity of that worshipful Cause which transcends the perception of the flesh. The second commandment is the love of man in accord with the duality of human nature; consequently its observance is twofold. I mean that we invisibly fulfill it in our consciousness and at the same time we fulfill it with the body, and not only in an evident manner, but secretly as well. And that which is fulfilled by outward actions should be likewise fulfilled in our consciousness.

There is an interesting connection between St Isaac of Syria and Dostoevsky. The latter owned an 1858 edition of the Slavonic translation of the Homilies by St Paisius Velichkovsky (Victor Terras, A Karamazov Companion: Commentary on the Genesis, Language, and Style of Dostoevsky’s Novel [Madison: U of Wisconsin, 1981], p. 22). Furthermore, Dostoevsky mentions St Isaac’s Ascetical Homilies by name twice in The Brothers Karamazov. The first time is in Part I, Book III, Chapter 1, ‘In the Servants’ Quarters’, where the narrator observes that Grigory Vasilievich, Fyodor Karamazov’s manservant, ‘somewhere obtained a copy of the homilies and sermons of “Our God-bearing Father, Isaac the Syrian”, which he read persistently over many years, understanding almost nothing at all of it, but perhaps precisely for that reason prizing and loving it all the more’ (Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky [NY: Vintage, 1991], p. 96). Dostoevsky then mentions the book again in 4.11.8, this time in the rather more sinister context of Ivan’s third meeting with Smerdyakov, when the latter 'took from the table that thick, yellow book, the only one lying on it, the one Ivan had noticed as he came in, and placed it on top of the bills. The title of the book was The Homilies of Our Father among the Saints, Isaac the Syrian. Ivan Fyodorovich read it mechanically' (Dostoevsky, p. 625).

But more importantly, Victor Terras has pinpointed a number of St Isaac’s teachings that make a definite appearance in the words of Elder Zosima in II.VI.3, especially in (g) ‘Of Prayer, Love, and the Touching of Other Worlds’ (Dostoevsky, pp. 318-20), and (i) ‘Of Hell and Hell Fire: A Mystical Discourse’ (Dostoevsky, pp. 322-4). Terras quotes the following passage from ‘Homily Twenty-Seven’ as being ‘important for the argument of The Brothers Karamazov’ (Terras, p. 23):

Sin, Gehenna, and Death do not exist at all with God, for they are effects, not substances. Sin is the fruit of free will. There was a time when sin did not exist, and there will be a time when it will not exist. Gehenna is the fruit of sin. At some point in time it had a beginning, but its end is not known. Death, however, is a dispensation of the wisdom of the Creator. It will rule only a short time over nature; then it will be totally abolished. Satan’s name derives from voluntarily turning aside [the Syriac etymological meaning of satan] from the truth; it is not an indication that he exists as such naturally. (Ascetical Homilies, p. 133)

Terras may, however, be on the wrong trail with this particular passage, though not perhaps with the rest of his parallels, since according to a note in the translation, this particular homily only exists in Syriac (Ascetical Homilies, p. 133), and does not appear to have been available in any translation Dostoevsky would have read (Introduction, Ascetical Homilies, pp. lxxvi-lxxvii). Another interesting, though less important, discrepancy, is that Pevear and Volokhonsky, in their note on the name of St Paisius (he is referenced in I.I.5 [Dostoevsky, p. 27], and footnoted on p. 780 of Pevear’s and Volokhonsky’s translation), date Dostoevsky’s edition of the Elder’s translation of St Isaac to 1854 rather than 1858. Furthermore, J.M.E. Featherstone lists among St Paisius's works, Svjatago otca našego Isaaka Sirina episkopa byvšago ninevijskago, slova duxovno-podvižničeskija perevedennyja s grečeskago.... (Moscow, 1854), thus making Pevear and Volokhonsky's date more likely, it would seem ('Select Bibliography', The Life of Paisij Velyčkovs'kyj, trans. J.M.E. Featherstone [Cambridge, MA: Harvard U, 1989], p. 163 ).

I just wanted to highlight briefly this interesting connection. At an even deeper level, however, it has been picked up on, for one, by Archimandrite Vasileios of Iveron. Having considered the ‘artistic’ gifts of St Isaac and the spiritual insight of Dostoevsky, he concludes, ‘Thus, whether you read Abba Isaac, or Dostoevsky, in the end you get the same message, grace and consolation’ (‘Από τον Αββά Ισαάκ’, p. 100).

St Isaac of Syria on the Incarnation

Okay, so one more thing. While I refuse to stay up crafting some long post, I thought I could at least share one of my favourite patristic passages on the Incarnation. As Metropolitan Hierotheos (Vlachos) has said, 'The divine incarnation is not offered for pious thoughts and sentimental or psychological analyses. . . . [I]n the end the mystery of the incarnation must be analysed within the atmosphere of Orthodox theology' (The Feasts of the Lord: An Introduction to the Twelve Feasts and Orthodox Christology, trans. Esther Williams [Levadia, Greece: Birth of the Theotokos Monastery, 2003], p. 60). So here's something that definitely falls into this category:

For humility is the raiment of the Godhead. The Word Who became man clothed Himself in it, and therewith He spoke to us in our body. Every man who has been clothed with it has truly been made like unto Him Who came down from His own exaltedness, and hid the splendour of His majesty, and concealed His glory with humility, lest creation should be utterly consumed by the contemplation of Him. Creation could not look upon Him unless He took a part of it to Himself, and thus conversed with it, and neither could it hear the words of His mouth face to face. (St Isaac the Syrian, The Ascetic Homilies of St Isaac the Syrian, trans. Dana Miller [Boston, MA: Holy Transfiguration Monastery, 1984], p. 381)

'A Merciful Man'—St Pardus the Solitary of Palestine

As the Prologue contains an enigmatically short account of St Pardus the Solitary of Palestine (commemorated today, 15 December, according to the old Orthodox calendar), I thought it a good idea to post the two paragraphs of Holy Apostles Convent’s wonderful The Lives of the Saints of the Holy Land and Sinai Desert (Buena Vista, CO: Holy Apostles Convent, 1997), pp. 514-5:

Our holy father lived in Palestine in the sixth century. In his youth, Pardus was a wagoner. One day, arriving in Jericho, he left his beast of burden in front of an inn which he entered. At that moment, it happened that a child fell in front of the beast which trampled upon it, thereby killing it. When Pardus beheld the crushed child, cruelly slain by his animal, his heart became extremely laden with guilt. Though it was an unintentional sin, the conscience-stricken Pardus laid on himself a harsh penance. He abandoned his trade, and, though very young he left the world. He withdrew into the arid desert to live a life of mortification, spiritual toil and repentance.

With many tears, he offered unto God his profound repentance on account of the child’s death. He somehow desired to give his life in exchange for that of the child, for which he prayed to God. He then searched out a lion, hoping it might devour him, but the beast fled from him. Then he decided to lay in the narrow track that the lion habitually tread upon, hoping that it would slay him. But, once more, the lion leapt over him and would not approach. Therefore, he perceived that it was God’s will that he continue to live and not perish as prey. Somewhat allayed, the sensitive and God-fearing sould remained a lowly penitent to his death, as if he were the least of all men in worth.

I have almost nothing to say in comment on this, except that it is interesting that the trampling of a child immediately calls to my mind Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (NY: Bantam, 1985). There, the charactre of Mr Hyde—the embodiment of the dark side of human nature itself—is introduced by the story of his having ‘calmly’ trampled a child and gone on walking away, deaf to her screams (Stevenson, p. 4). It is rightly used by Stevenson as the most despicable of acts. We have in St Pardus the anti-Hyde, much more than in Dr Jekyll, whom Stephen King has called 'the hypocrite who falls into the pit of secret sin' (Danse Macabre [NY: Berkley, 1983], p. 74). St Pardus is a man of such holy compassion that he spends his life in repentance, not for having himself trampled a child, but for his animal having done it. He is a beautiful illustration of St Isaac the Syrian’s well-known words about the ‘merciful heart’:

‘And what is a merciful heart?’ ‘It is the heart’s burning for the sake of the entire creation, for men, for birds, for animals, for demons, and for every created thing; and by the recollection and sight of them the eyes of a merciful man pour forth abundant tears. From the strong and vehement mercy which grips his heart and from his great compassion, his heart is humbled and he cannot bear to hear or to see any injury or slight sorrow in creation. . . .’ (St Isaac the Syrian, The Ascetical Homilies of St Isaac the Syrian, trans. Dana Miller [Boston, MA: Holy Transfiguration Monastery, 1984], p. 344-5)

Would that I had such compassion, such a humbled and merciful heart!