Elowsky, Passions and the Church Fathers, part 2

Transcript (edited for readability).

So in the first part of the lecture, I tried to talk to you a bit about the passions in terms of the problem the fathers saw. In the second part, I'm going to talk a little bit about their remedy, if you will. When I do this, I decided to focus on just one text, really. It's John Cassian's Conferences, in particular Conference 5, that you'll see I have in your paper there. So this is going to get into more of the weeds side of things. I hope you'll bear with me, because when they talked about the passions, they really unpacked them. They tried to understand what they were talking about.

So let me begin by asking the obvious: if the passions are a problem, then what's the remedy? John Cassian's Conferences—are you familiar with John Cassian? He's fourth century; he collected the sayings of the desert fathers. So you can find it in volume 11 of the Nicene and Post-Nicene series, if you want that translation. There's one in the Ancient Christian Writers series too, that I would recommend. Bless you. John Cassian's Conferences are a treasure trove for how the desert monks dealt with the passions, and it's where I want to spend the time that we have this hour. We're going to focus on Conference 5, about Serapion. He and the monks deal with what they call the eight principal faults. Now, in Latin it's vitia, or vices, but he might as well have said passions, because that's what he ends up talking about. Frankly, even in his descriptions, they use these terms interchangeably. I thought I could get into a big discussion about the difference between this passion and that vice, this kind of thing, in these categories, but it's not really helpful, because they aren't consistent themselves in that terminology. So as you engage the text, you're going to see that fluidity at certain points. For them it seems to be a terminological distinction, let's say, without a difference, if you will. And that is why I'm turning our attention to this conference.

He lists the eight vices or passions as gluttony, fornication, avarice, anger, dejection, acedia, boasting, and pride. So this builds off the Stoic enumeration we began with in the earlier session, but it's similar, of course, to the seven deadly sins, right? I mean, they just seem to have taken pride and made two out of it. So the conference is really a mini seminar on the passions. I would have loved to have sat in on it. I probably would ask too many questions, though. The master breaks them down into categories and definitions worthy of any systematics department. I don't know why we don't have this as part of our systematics program. By the way, a lot of students have come to me asking if we would have a class on spiritual warfare, because they do feel this should be part of our seminary training and it often isn't. So I did an independent study, but I also do it when I teach on Athanasius. And some weird stuff always happens when we get to the Life of Anthony.

So the fathers do this discussion of the passions rather dispassionately. They don't let their passions get in the way most of the time. But one caveat I want to state up front: I'm using Serapion's name throughout instead of John Cassian, but it's probably filtered through Cassian.

All right. So Serapion begins by noting that these passions, or vices, are divided into two classes. Those that are natural to us, such as gluttony, where we're looking to satisfy an inner hunger or thirst that arises from within. And secondly, those that arise outside of our nature, such as covetousness, where we're looking at and desiring and wanting things that are outside of us. In other words, those things that are now part of our fallen nature that arise from within, on the one hand, and those things outside of our human nature that act on it.

He further notes that their manner of acting on us is fourfold. There are some that cannot be, quote, "consummated without an act on the part of the flesh," unquote, such as gluttony and fornication, while others can be completed without any bodily act, such as, let's say, pride and boasting. Still other passions, such as anger and covetousness, are motivated by things outside us, while the remaining passions, which would be acedia and dejection, are fed by internal feelings. I mean, it's interesting. He's got a whole systematic way of looking here. Well, we'll get there. And that'll come out as they unpack these. Yeah, because I thought the same thing—and lust, right, and whatever, these kinds of things. So in other words, he says, well, all the passions reside in the soul; some are excited by things outside ourselves, while others don't need any outward stimuli to get them going. But they're seated right there in the soul.

And so then he proceeds next to break all this down for us, asking the very question you ask, I think, I hope. So the first one we get to is gluttony and fornication, which he spends quite a bit of time on, because he thinks this is really at the heart of where all the passions are. And we'll get into this a little bit in his excursus on Jesus' temptation. So Serapion chooses first to take on two passions that he sees being intimately related to one another, gluttony and fornication, which he says exist in us naturally. And he wasn't talking in terms of the flesh controversy, by the way, of the sixteenth century, but just keep that in the back, maybe. So gluttony and fornication are natural in us. What we today might—I don't know, would we call it instinct? I don't know if that works—but it's because they sometimes spring up in us without any incitement from the mind and simply at the motion and allurement of the flesh. But the satisfaction, quote, "must find an external object," unquote, and must be carried out through a bodily act, and he quotes James 1 on this: "Every man is tempted of his own lust; then lust, when it has conceived, bears sin, and sin, when it is consummated, brings death," unquote.

He notes that both gluttony and lust are carried into effect with the help of the flesh, which is why they especially require two things: bodily abstinence, as well as spiritual care of the soul, since the mind is not in itself enough to resist the attacks—unlike some of the other passions, like anger and despondency, where you can calm yourself down or lift yourself up, or something like that. So he says fastings, vigils, and confession are required in addition to the disposition of the mind. But he goes even further in his prescription for how to deal with these passions. He adds, to this must be added a change of scenery. I find that interesting, directly related to the body. So when he's talking about gluttony and fornication, he says you need a change of scenery.

The passions of the flesh are a bit different than spiritual passions, even though they have a lot in common. The carnal passions pamper the appetites of the flesh with which it is so charmed and satisfied. He says that sometimes it excites the mind at rest and even drags it against its will to consent to its desire. That's when he's talking about the bodily passions. Spiritual passions, on the other hand, are those which spring only from the impulse of the mind and do not merely contribute no pleasure to the flesh, but actually bring on it a weakness that is harmful to it, and only feed a diseased mind with the food of a most miserable pleasure. So he's talking about, like, acedia—that kind of listlessness that doesn't bring any pleasure to the body. All it does is make him miserable, whereas at least gluttony, you feel good for a while. Same thing with fornication, I suppose. So, yeah, spiritual passions, which only spring from the impulse of the mind, but actually bring that weakness.

And these need a single medicine for the heart, the ones of the spirit; but those which are carnal, he says, can only be cured by a double remedy. So a two-part remedy is prescribed, because as he notes, a complicated disease needs a complicated remedy. And that's actually the phrase that he uses there. So the bodily part of the remedy is the counsel to withdraw—to get away from whatever it is that is leading you down the wrong path of the passions. Quote, "For from the body, the object and material which would allure it must be withdrawn, for fear lest the lust should endeavor to spring out into an act," unquote. Sounds like Paul, huh? He says, but there is also a remedy prescribed for the mind and spirit too. Quote, "Before the mind we should no less carefully place diligent meditation on Scripture, and watchful anxiety, and the withdrawal into solitude, lest it should give birth to desire even in thought," unquote.

So concerning the other passions and vices, however, he says not only that we should not withdraw from others, but should endeavor to be in their company, because we need their support if we really want to overcome the bad passions. Quote, "Because in mixing with others, they more often meet with rebuke," those passions, that is, "and while they are more frequently provoked, the existence of the faults is made evident, and so they are cured with speedy remedies." There are times when you should withdraw, and times when you should very much be in the company of your brothers, but it's a spiritual discernment to figure that out, he says.

So what do we learn from Serapion? We learn, first of all, that the remedy for all passions is not the same. Secondly, that some passions, such as lust and gluttony, have both a physical and a spiritual component to them. And thirdly, he seems to imply that you begin by withdrawing from whatever it is that's leading you into temptation. So if it is gluttony, well, you clear your fridge, right, of whatever's tempting you. You find those secret places where you're hiding your food and clear them out, I don't know. If it's lust, you have to do something about your computers, your tablets, your phones, your televisions, or your erotic lamps. Right, yeah, there you go. So, well, anyway, God bless them.

So there's some accountability in all this, is what I think he's trying to say. And he notes the danger of what I would call muscle memory, our soul memory, if you will, in this case, where if you don't get these things out of your life, or somehow rein them in, an opportunity, he says, or recollection of these same desires can arise in a soul that is still affected by the evil, for a complicated disease needs a complicated remedy again. So he says get these things out, because there's a memory there. It's like reflexes, in a bad way, because they'll come back, and they'll even get worse, as he'll talk about in a bit.

And you notice it's not just physical withdrawal that he counsels. Number four: the mind, the heart, the soul also needs meditation on Scripture. And by the way, that's at the heart and core of all of this—the meditation on Scripture. That's why I wish I had the Letter to Marcellinus, so I could get some passages from there, but that is so important. And he talks about how the psalms actually speak to the soul and move it, in a good way, and also help us diagnose when the soul's being moved in a bad way. So that meditation on Scripture is so important. But they also then get into some of the mechanics about watchful anxiety, and what they mean by that is that you're actually anxious about these things and are vigilant against them. And there is that withdrawal into solitude, lest it should give birth to desire even in thought. So you've got the meditation on Scripture, the watchful anxiety—like, be sober, be vigilant, because the devil walks around as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. And then that time for withdrawal into solitude for a time of prayer and meditation on God's word. And I'm sure also they would have had, in those cenobitic communities, to receive the sacrament, which they would have referred to as the medicine of immortality. Right? So all of that is there.

And this withdrawal—I think I was talking with Bill about this over the break a little bit—it wasn't just a Zen retreat, like getting in touch with my feelings here. The withdrawal was, as Bill was talking about, to help the city itself in some of its struggles, so that you were there as a resource for it. But it's also to help you deal with your own demons, and to go out and attack them, if you will. To get away from that temptation that was there, that's also a little bit there. But, as Jerome said, even when he was in his cell, that was the time when he had the worst temptations come on, especially lust. He had gotten away from women and everything else, and still there were dancing women there around the walls. So that in itself is not going to solve the problem. But it is there for a purpose: to get you singularly focused on God's word and that communion with God. So that's that fourth point.

But you notice the fifth point too: there's also that time for community. And even as I was writing this, I was going through—as I told Dave, I was supposed to get a procedure, as you do in your fifties, and I reacted to the prep, and it brought up a condition I have called diverticulitis. If you've ever had one of those attacks, it feels like you're giving birth. And so I couldn't be in church. And I decided, well, I'll go online. And it just isn't the same. I mean, it was a thing to try to help us get through, whatever, but I realized how much I missed the mutual consolation of the brethren. It's difficult to not be there.

I'm going to take you on a little scriptural tangent here. I decided to do this. I've got it listed there in your appendix; it's on the last page. In this whole discussion of gluttony and fornication, he actually does a tangent on Hebrews chapter 4 and Genesis 3 and the temptation accounts in Matthew and Luke. So he's noted these five aspects of dealing with gluttony and fornication—so we're only on the first two here—when Serapion takes us on this tangent that I think is worth exploring, because it concerns temptation. And that's why Serapion brings up the scriptural point. Our Lord Jesus Christ was tempted in every way as we are, yet was without sin. And he asserts that Jesus did not experience lust, though. And I found this interesting, because I always thought, well, he said everything, so it's everything. But Serapion doesn't want to do that. He says he knew nothing of the incitements of carnal lust that trouble us. This was because he was conceived by the Holy Spirit, he says, and not in the same way as you were. But I thought, well, what about all the other sins?

But Serapion's point, I think, is not that Jesus was not really tempted because he was God, so that the fight was fixed from the start. No, he really was tempted, as we are, as Hebrews says. Rather, it's that this lust, this sin, these passions in the wrongly ordered sense, are not part of what it means to be human, or at least fully human. In fact, he says Jesus was the most human of us all, but that's because, he notes, he was in possession of the perfect image and likeness of God.

Now, this argument—you've got to stay with me a second, because it's not so straightforward. So he says that it was only right that Jesus should be tempted through the passions that Adam also was tempted by while he still retained the image of God unbroken—that is, through gluttony, vainglory, and pride. So when he's going to talk about Jesus' temptations and Adam's temptations, he sees a parallel between the two, in other words. And he's saying Adam didn't necessarily get all the temptations, but they all would have been included in it in one sense or another, because they all are interrelated and grow out of it. And so this is what I think he's getting at in this. In other words, Jesus experienced only the temptations Adam experienced in his perfect state before he had fallen. So let's see what we think about this. I've never really thought of this. Yeah. Well, there was evil there, but then it's a question of when it happened. Yeah. I mean, it has more to do with just which temptations did he have to deal with. And because he's going to say later on, fornication comes because of the gluttony and stuff like that. So it ends up being there; it just wasn't there at the beginning.

So, again, see if you can track with him on this, because this is the first time I'm kind of working it out myself. So maybe we just say Cassian and forget it. But he's trying to talk about the temptations that Adam experienced in his perfect state, all of which were involved in the eating of the fruit in the garden. So he says there was gluttony in eating the forbidden fruit, vainglory in listening to and believing Satan's lie that your eyes shall be opened, and pride in wanting to become as gods, knowing good and evil. So those are the three Serapion points out. And these are the same three sins by which our Lord was tempted by Satan. First he had gluttony, in the temptation to turn the stones into bread. Then you've got vainglory, in the temptation to cast himself down to prove he was the Son of God, and the saving that would inevitably occur from that, right? And then thirdly, pride, in showing him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory, which would all be his if only he bowed down to Satan, right—like Adam did, by the way.

So Jesus went through the temptations as an example—and not just an example, but also as one who could show us how to live through those temptations and teach us how to withstand them, and also to demonstrate that he had conquered what led human beings into the mess we are now in in the first place. So the idea, when he's saying Jesus was tempted in every way as we are, is that he just goes to those three temptations instead of the possibility of all the other temptations. And he's saying this because—well, let me just keep going here—the first Adam, he says, didn't pass muster. He gave in, right? The second Adam dealt with the temptations the way Adam should have, staying with God's word instead of listening to Satan's word, as we know. And so that classic question you get in Bible study—was Jesus really tempted, after all, he's God, so did he really have to feel temptation?—finds its answer here.

As Serapion puts it, echoing Irenaeus' doctrine of recapitulation, this idea that there are two Adams: the first Adam introduced destruction and death; the second Adam was the first fruits of the resurrection and life. And let me quote here: "Through the one, the whole race of humankind was brought into condemnation; through the other, the whole race of mankind was set free," unquote. The first Adam was fashioned out of the virgin soil; well, the second Adam was born of the Virgin Mary. These kinds of connections. But in the case of the second Adam, Serapion says it was right that he should undergo temptation, and yet it was not necessary that he should fail under it. This is a key point for him—just like it was not necessary that Adam should fail under it either, since he was created perfect. He was not governed by the Shakespearean adage—since Shakespeare hadn't written yet—"to err is human." Well, what Shakespeare said is true for us now; we are truly blind, dead, and enemies of God by nature. But was it true for Adam? No, he didn't have to give in to the temptation. Human nature was pure and undefiled before the fall. Adam just chose to exchange the perfection and purity he had for a lie.

And it also means, to Serapion, that Jesus would not have been tempted by fornication, since fornication springs from excessive desire and superfluity, and gluttony is at its root. So in other words, what he says is, once Satan failed at the gluttony temptation, there was no need to proceed to fornication, since if Jesus did not give in to gluttony, which was the harder one, he says, he would not have given in to fornication. So Satan didn't even try, is kind of his argument. And we'll talk about this a little bit more later.

So, again, that's kind of the weeds of it, in the sense that he's trying to find a direct parallel between Adam's temptations and Jesus' temptations, and seeing that really this sin of gluttony and pride encompasses all the other passions. And so in that sense, you can say that Jesus was really tempted in every way as we are, because of that. Do you track with that? Yeah, I don't know. I'm still trying to think it through. But I wanted to present it to you, to say something I hadn't thought of before. And he's taken Scripture very seriously, asking that question: why only three temptations by Satan? And then finding that direct connection with Genesis, maybe. I'm not going to say "thus saith the Lord," I suppose, on that point.

But Serapion's point is that once the devil saw that he couldn't defeat Jesus with the temptations that worked against Adam, he basically gave up. I think you and I are together on this. Yeah, I think you could be totally wrong—usually I am. Are the fathers limiting the temptation of Jesus, or his temptedness, to the temptation of the devil? Or are they willing to admit that in his humanity, he was tempted in every way we are, every day of his human life? Yeah, well, right. I really like that he's taking Scripture seriously, and I like the parallels. This is really fascinating. But there's something missing for me in pastoral care—the private goods of Christ overcoming. Yeah. It doesn't seem like he really went through it, right, the day that he's being tempted. And he was a man, and he was surrounded by women who were there to serve him. Yeah. He seems to imply that it never even crossed his mind. Yeah, that it never even crossed his mind.

Now, I will say that, by the way, this is one conference, and I think in other places they will deal with this, especially when it comes to the suffering in the garden, for instance, and those kinds of things, right? So this is kind of—and you'll see this a lot with the fathers—they'll just take one thing and then work that over. So they're not going to answer every kind of question. They're not doing it ad hoc in this case, because it's a specific conference for an issue that came up. And I'm sure it's one of the brethren who brought it up. And later on, when you read the other conferences, you're going to see discussions about other stuff. So that's why I put that caveat in there. But I also highlight the fact that, boy, they were really seeing a parallel I hadn't seen that way.

I think the parallel is interesting, but in the account of the temptation, it says the devil left until an opportune time. So if the devil gave up after three temptations and didn't bother anymore because he couldn't overcome, that verse doesn't make any sense. Yeah, well, I think he was talking about that episode. I mean, he had to regroup, shall we say. That's what I think Cassian would reply. But then why would he only tempt him with the three that didn't work? Why wouldn't he come with other temptations when the opportune time arose? I guess that's how I'm challenging this being more than just an initial look at the parallel between the first Adam and the second Adam—that Jesus was tempted in other ways as time went on. Yeah. I mean, I think his point, and he'll make this later on, is that really almost all the passions are interconnected, so that you're not really missing out. He's just saying, in terms of how, when he tempted Adam, these were for Satan; so he's just going back to his old tricks, kind of thing. But then once he realizes that, he's still going to come after him again at the cross for sure, if not other places. But it's really just for the sake of argument of this specific section. Yeah. So you're right to ask that.

With respect to lust and the temptation of the flesh: there are those who are not afflicted with that temptation, and given the gift of self. Yeah. And, talking to somebody who lives as a single man—but also, is he talking about celibacy as a gift, as Paul talks about it? So what is that like? Describe it. Just not having the passion for the flesh inflamed. It's those who are not given celibacy who do learn the passion of the flesh, but those who have the gift itself aren't tempted by that sexuality. Right. And that's not to say those who live single are all given the gift of celibacy and to live single chastely; but those who are given the gift of celibacy, as Paul would describe it—it's actually a distinction from the passions of a sexual desire versus not having the passion. Yeah. So to say that all humanity is afflicted with the passion of sexual desire—I don't think Paul would agree with that.

Well, and that's kind of his point in talking with these monks, for instance. And they're saying they're living out kind of Jesus' life in their life in the desert. Because he looks at—and this is really, again, taking the context of it—he's talking to monks who have largely conquered fornication and the lust side of things, but gluttony is the one that gets them, when they're out by themselves or in their community or whatever. So, to give Cassian some credit, he's trying, with his audience, those who are not really struggling anymore with fornication—although you saw Abba Moses in the previous one, that that still would come up, and those were for those who were kind of not as far along. So he's trying to take them to the level where you've gotten rid of some of those and recognize that gluttony, vainglory, and pride—those are going to be the ones you're really going to have to deal with. So he's not saying the others aren't there. This is the community that he's dealing with, shall we say, who, to a certain extent, seem to me to have actually been able to move on to not have lust bother them anymore. And he talks about that later on, in a conference, that they're actually not bothered by this anymore, but all of them get bothered by gluttony again, or pride.

That reflects his loose statement that all other sins are a mere flea bite compared to the sin of pride. Yeah, that's kind of what it is. And that's what he's going to get at with the interrelationship of all these: the root of all evil, in a sense, comes back to pride, and gluttony is an offspring of it, because it's what got Adam tripped up. And it's one that monks definitely struggle with, who are trying to do the askesis and the fasting, yet they're still desiring food and these things. So that's why I say, when you read this at first glance, you go, wait a minute, what about everything else? He's not saying it's not there. It's just that this is in that specific conference for those who have already kind of dealt with all those. And it's kind of almost like pastoral care of, what have I got before me? And it's the problem of gluttony, and it's the problem of pride, which he says especially affects church people, and those who have, let's say, been successful in these cases. That very success sometimes is what ends up getting you with pride, because you're all proud about what you just conquered, and then guess what? You just fell into the first one. So it's a vicious cycle.

So that's that little excursus. I just wanted to try it out on you. I appreciate you being guinea pigs for it, shall we say. And I almost want to say, don't try this at home yet. Get it worked out. But it does get you to think in terms of what he's doing here. And let's see, how long do we go till again? 11:45. Okay, yeah, so we've got—lunch is at noon. Yeah, speaking of gluttony, I'm thinking just about lunch. But I just thought that was so interesting, that—yeah, what did he really get at him on? Take some fruit, and also you could be gods, and you could rule the world. Yeah.

So he next—first he treats gluttony and fornication. I would have thought he would have gone for pride first, but he didn't, because he saw that as the entry level for Satan and Adam. And it's also the first temptation for Christ—it's the bread: turn these stones into bread, right? So then he moves on next to vainglory and pride, which he notes need no help from the body in order to flare up. Both of these take the soul captive, quote, "simply by its assent and wish to gain praise and glory from men," unquote. And he says Lucifer's pride was only conceived in his heart. It had nothing to do with his body, as a spiritual being. There was no one to stir up pride in him, either, interestingly enough. It was his thoughts alone that were the authors of the sin and of his eternal fall, he says. And Serapion notes, especially, that he never did end up ruling the heaven he was aiming at—although he did get to rule in hell, for what it's worth. So even when you look at the first sin, even before Adam and Eve, if you were going to go that route, with Satan, he didn't have any external stimuli. He's saying this all arose in his mind, and that's the danger of pride, because it can arise in the mind without anything else. Other things can, of course, cause it, when people say "great work" or whatever; you can get that. But that's where he sees that kind of just taking place there, with vainglory too.

So the next passion that he deals with is covetousness and anger, in chapter 8—this is all in Conference 5, by the way. Although he admits that they are not of the same nature, because covetousness is something outside our nature, while anger seems to sprout within us, he groups them together because he says they spring up in the same way, because both are usually spurred on by something outside of it. So he notes, quote, "For often men who are still rather weak complain that they have fallen into these sins through irritation and the instigation of others," unquote. So think about anger, and how often it's somebody outside that makes you angry, something they did, right? But the thing about covetousness, which is perhaps why we Lutherans have two commandments on it, is that it is something outside our nature, he says. It doesn't have its starting inside us, nor does it originate in what contributes to keeping body and soul together, to the existence of life. He says, for it is plain that nothing belongs to the actual needs and necessities of our common life except our daily meat and drink. But everything else, with whatever zeal and care we preserve it, is shown to be something distinct from the wants of men by the needs of life itself.

So covetousness troubles those who are lukewarm and have a shaky foundation in their faith, while the other passions attack even those who are strong in faith, or, as he mentions, even the best among them, whether in community or in solitude. They still have to deal with the other passions, but not so much with covetousness, which they seem to have conquered, he says. He even talks about some nations who seem to be totally free from covetousness. I found this fascinating. Some nations—and here maybe he's talking about those on the African continent—countries that had everything in common in the village, centered on the community rather than the individual. At least that's how I'm taking it. But I find it fascinating that he can see whole countries as not covetous, because they want to have everything in common. He thinks that the world before the flood was for long ages ignorant of the madness of this desire, he even says. And he counsels that this isn't a hard virtue to attain. All you have to do, he says—and remember, he's talking to monks—all you have to do is give up all your property. Right? And that's what Anthony did: he sold everything and went out into the desert. By the way, he kept some back to keep his sister in the nunnery, but otherwise he sold everything. And all these monks did—they sold everything, so they didn't have to worry about covetousness, because they didn't have anything left, I suppose. And they followed the monastic case, and he says, make that renunciation a thorough one.

And when we get to gluttony, he'll talk about some of this again. And, you know, I had a number of Coptic monks, by the way, as my students, when I taught in Egypt. I was teaching in Cairo, and they all wanted to learn about Cyril of Alexandria—that's their guy. But they had all come in from the desert. And they would walk from their one desert monastery to another. They didn't care about covetousness at all. It was an interesting example. But he says these desert monks have so thoroughly eradicated this passion as not to be in the slightest degree troubled by it afterwards, though all their lifelong they have to fight against gluttony, which they fight against through vigilance over the heart and bodily abstinence. So he's saying that because they sold everything, they're in a perfect state. Now, obviously, this is like a sales pitch, almost. Not everybody was as successful as might seem, but he's pointing to them as the spiritual athletes again. And this is the ideal toward which you would aim, even if there are obviously fallbacks from it.

So then the next passions that he deals with are dejection and acedia. And these two, he says, usually arise without any external provocation. The desert monks are harassed by these all the time, he says, and they can be quite devastating. Anyone who has lived in the desert, he says, can tell you how these attack the inner man. And he doesn't really offer any solution, though, on this one, because I'm guessing he's talking to monks who only know too well the truth of this, and that it is a constant struggle. Once you've got those other ones conquered, these are always there to come at you.

So to summarize, he's talked about the two different origins of the passions—those external to us and those internal to us—as well as the different effects they have on us, in the six passions that he had just discussed: gluttony, fornication, covetousness, anger, dejection, and acedia. These are all in some way connected, so that when you give in to one, he says, it can lead to another. So, for instance, if you're into gluttony, fornication probably won't be far behind, and fornication usually leads to covetousness or unhealthy desire, which in turn can lead to anger, and from anger comes dejection, and there comes acedia, or listlessness. So all of these you fight in the same way and with the same methods, and when you overcome one, move on to the next, because otherwise, guess what, they're going to come back. And he says it's just like weeding your garden: if you don't get the weed by the roots, although it may look like you killed the weed, it actually propagates it, and you end up having more weeds.

So, for example, he says, if you want to get rid of listlessness—sloth, apathy—you first have to get the better of dejection. But in order to get rid of dejection, you have to get rid of your anger. And in order to quell your anger, you have to trample covetousness under your feet. And in order to root out covetousness, you have to curb fornication. And if you're going to get rid of fornication, you have to discipline yourself against gluttony. So it's like they're all interconnected. And Serapion said that at the beginning of the last lecture: when you get this one, another one springs up. I call it spiritual whack-a-mole. I like that game, but I never could win it.

Now, notice he's talked through the first six. There's still pride and vainglory, if you're counting, right? And pride can lead to vainglory, and vainglory to pride, and vice versa. So in that way, they're the same. But they don't spring up from the other six. He says these are actually aroused in an entirely different way and manner than the other six. He believes you can actually get rid of the first six fairly completely if you follow the monastic discipline. So we should all just become monks. But he says the battle is not yet finished, because when you conquer any one of the first six, there's always the temptation to pride and boasting, because, well, you won. But winning the temptation battle can in itself introduce the toughest temptation, and that is indeed pride. But that doesn't mean you don't engage in battle; it's that you're aware this could be an issue, and getting rid of the early passions can help you deal with the subsequent ones in the chain you outlined above. He does believe there's an ordering to this, and that there's a rhyme and a reason to it. There's a kind of domino effect, if you will. That forms part of the strategy of dealing with the passions, if you really want to deal with them, he says.

So then he takes us into the origin and character of each of the passions in more detail. So, again, like I said, he's trying to give you a systematic way of looking at each of these. And there are going to be twenty-four conferences on this that you could explore. This is just one, all right? There's such a good goal, but I'm going to take you through these when he talks about each of them, because he wants to define a little bit what they are. So is everybody with me? Let's see, the origin and character of each of the passions.

So with gluttony you have three kinds. And I like this first one: eating before the properly stated times. Now, he's talking in the community there, right, not snacking. I don't think he's got anything against that, because my diet even says I can have snacks in between. But there's a problem with that, because if you do that, then it shows you're not really caring about the brethren, that you're going ahead, cutting in line, whatever. Secondly, he says, caring about filling up your belly and gorging it with all kinds of foods—so basically gluttony in all its glory, shall we say, that you just eat and eat and eat and eat. But the third one is having an unhealthy appetite for delicacies and exotic foods. He also lists the luxury items, like the eighteen-year-old Macallan that I had the other week. Sorry, just kidding. So he's talking about these three in the context of the monastic community. So there are slightly different lessons he wants these monks to learn. But the problem with each can still relate to us, right? So, as I say, he's not necessarily arguing against snacking, but the idea of eating food outside of the community is really what he's getting at, and not really seeing the necessity of a communal meal. And the fathers, and especially the African fathers, are very concerned about—what is the term?—hospitality. That you would never sit at a meal by yourself; you would be there with others, a communal meal. And it's, of course, a problem many families today are facing, right? We don't even share a common meal together at all anymore, because everything gets scheduled out.

Also, that second idea of gorging yourself has always been a bad idea. If you can't control your appetite with food, you'll never succeed in curbing—he says—the secret and most important desires of the body. So he does see it as a window. In other words, if you're struggling with this, what about the other desires that are going on? But thirdly, Cassian would have no patience with foodies. He uses the word "annoying," talking about people who want to show you all the foods that they've got—which, by the way, was happening in the Corinthian community, when they talk about almost two different meals going on, and you had the meal for your friends and leftovers for everybody else. So that was kind of his discourse on gluttony.

So, fornication. He says there are three kinds of fornication. That which is accomplished by sexual intercourse—that's about as clear as you can get, he says. But that which takes place without touching a woman—and here he cites the case of Onan, so you can guess what he's probably talking about. He also includes 1 Corinthians 7:8–9, where Paul says it is better to marry than to burn. So, the sexual act without another, shall we say—that's the second fornication. And the third one, he says, is that which is conceived in the heart and mind. And basically lust. And then, of course, he cites Jesus in Matthew chapter 5, saying, whoever looks at a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery. And, you know, porneia is the Greek word, and sometimes they translate it as adultery, sometimes as fornication. They didn't always make the fine distinctions in breaking that down. It was sexual sin that the Scripture spoke against. And so Paul's remedy is the same for all three, and he quotes Colossians 3 and Ephesians 5, to mortify your members. And notice, all three of these, he says, exclude us equally from the kingdom of Christ. So they were pretty harsh on it.

So, that's the first two. Covetousness is the third one. There are three kinds. Now, the first one, he says—and this is interesting, again, in the monastic community—when you would renounce all your wealth, right, you would allow yourselves to be stripped of your goods and property. But anything that would stop you from doing that could be considered a covetousness, on the one hand. So there were a lot of guys who came and thought they were going to sell everything, and then couldn't quite do it. But then there are also those who did it—they sold everything—but then they're like, what did I do? Let me get that back. And they want to resume, with excessive eagerness, the possession of those things which they had given away and distributed to the poor. And this is often how the church, by the way, took care of the poor, was through these renunciations that happened, whether it's monks or whether it was bishops—because Basil of Caesarea did the same thing, so did Ambrose, so did Cyprian. These guys sold all their wealth so that they could fund the church, basically. So, instead of getting funded by the church, they funded the church, in some instances. So those are the first two with covetousness. But then he says there's a third, which leads a man to covet and procure what he never previously possessed. And that's the one that probably we teach in confirmation class—that you have a desire for things that aren't yours, and you try to actually, as Luther said, get them in some way, or by a show of right, if you will. So that's covetousness.

Then he gets on to anger, that there are three kinds of anger. One which rages within, which is called thymos in Greek—so that's the anger within that happens. Another which breaks out in word and deed and action, which he calls orge. I guess I could write these up here, maybe. Is there a pen or not? Yeah, there is. Is it okay to write on here? Okay, yeah. So you've got them in Greek. It's thymos. And then you've got orge. The third one is going to be—let's see—menis. That's an eta; sorry, that's supposed to be an eta. Menis—it's a bad eta, all right, but that's what it is. Yeah, so the orge is the one that breaks out in all kinds of anger and indignation; you get to see it. And the third is not like the others, he says, which boil over and are done within an hour; but this one lasts for days or weeks or months or years. That's why it's got the idea of memory even in it—the menis. So he calls this kind even like wrath. So you've got the kind that's just bubbling up inside, but then you've got the kind that breaks out in—you know, blogs that you write, shall we say—deed and action. But then the third kind is the one where you're just holding it against him. I had two uncles, one of which played the accordion at a reception one time, and the other uncle told him to stop, and he thought—they fought over that for twenty years. They hated each other's guts, because he didn't honor his music. And you see that in families all the time. And this is the number one thing you get from parishioners too, where they say, I don't know if I've forgiven somebody, because I'm still mad at him. And I said, well, let's talk, then. So, anger—they have quite a bit to talk about this elsewhere too, but he's just kind of taking you through the lists here and identifying key aspects.

So the next one is dejection, or despair, where there are only two kinds. One that springs up when anger has died down, or as a result of a loss we have incurred, or of some purpose which has been hindered or interfered with. But to me, that's three. Frankly, he says there's two, but think about that: one that occurs when anger has died down—then what do you do with it? Or is the result of a loss we have incurred, where you just get so depressed, especially when a loved one close by dies, kind of thing. Or some purpose which has been hindered and interfered with. And I don't know if you've been paying attention to what goes on at the seminaries, but sometimes we get this third one quite a bit—dejection and frustration because of things you try to do and then get thwarted. Pastors get it too, I know, all the time. You've got something you want to do in your church, and it's all going great guns, and then one guy has to just step up and ruin it all. So dejection, acedia, despair, can happen. So that's the first kind. But he says the other comes from unreasonable anxiety of mind, or from despair. And this is what I think especially twenty-somethings are experiencing, in really struggling with: why am I depressed? We have so many guys who come in and are depressed and need medications, and I'm sure you're running across this too. Where does that come from? And people are trying to diagnose it. He says, well, some of it just comes from stuff that you're struggling with. There are external impulses, but it's all there. So, dejection or despair—those two overall kinds.

Then he talks about acedia. As I mentioned before, seeing that as—it's been called sloth or listlessness. He says there are two kinds of that, one of which sends those affected by it to sleep. Interesting—you get so, all I want to do is sleep. And monks have that too. And he says the other kind makes you want to run away, whether it's from the cell or whatever it might be. So we have two kinds of acedia there.

And there's vainglory—two kinds, although it takes various forms and shapes, he says. The first one is when you're puffed up by carnal things, as well as visible things, like: look at my car, look at my house, look at my congregation, bigger than yours. Look at my—I always worry about this for the seminarians when we get to Call Day, before Call Day. Well, how many interviews did you have? How many do you have? When I was at seminary, I didn't have any interviews. I was worthless. I got what was left over. No, I actually perfectly love my call. But I saw that a lot, that kind of comparison. So, carnal things as well as visible things, he says. But secondly, when we are inflamed with the desire of vain praise for things spiritual and unseen—so you're looking for the kudos, whatever it might be, you're looking for that extra boost. By the way, that doesn't mean you shouldn't encourage one another; he's not saying that. He's simply saying, anything—Satan has this nasty habit of turning anything good into something bad. And that's what he's really highlighting with all this. None of these things—I mean, there are good desires too, by the way, but Satan can turn them bad.

And the last one, of course, that comes up with the passions, is going to be pride. And there's that carnal pride again, of things that you've done, but he says the spiritual pride is the worst, because it especially attacks those who are seen to have made progress in some good qualities. And this is the one—when you've finally been starting to make some progress in your spiritual life, this is the one that will always come after you, and usually succeed in one way or another.

And so then we finally move on to the remedies. I think we've got just five minutes left here. I think I can get to it. You need to discover, he says, what your own besetting sin or passion is, first of all—and he's talking here about pastoral care—so that you can direct the proper attack against it with the daily weapons of fasting, and, quoting, "at all times hurling against it the constant darts of sighs and groanings from the heart, and employing against it the labors of vigils and the meditation of the heart, and further pouring forth to God constant tears and prayers, and continually and expressly praying to be delivered from its attack." This one may make us a bit uncomfortable, in the sense that it's all about the internal groanings, and I'm looking for the extra nos side of things here, and it doesn't come through that much. So I would say this is where we've got our wonderful Lutheran emphasis. But also you can appreciate what he's saying, in terms of—there is that kind of, if sin really bothers you, you've grown against it, you struggle against it, and you admit it to God, and you pray to be delivered from it. You don't just say, well, this is how God made me. That's all we've got.

So Serapion insists—and here's the other thing—he insists that no one can gain victory over the passions by their own strength and efforts, even after he's just talked about these. You have to be persistent, with care and watchfulness, but you've got the Spirit there working with you. And he does talk about the Spirit and the importance of the Spirit working through the word in that. And even when you've got rid of the passions, you still have to be vigilant in seeing what's still inside you. The idea is that once you've dealt with the stronger passions, the other ones are easier and quicker to deal with, but you can never become complacent. That's the strategy, which was counterintuitive to me: he says attack the stronger passions first, and then when you conquer those, the lesser passions are easier to deal with. So some food for thought, anyway. This idea of tackling the stronger ones first, by the way, seems to be how the gladiators did their battles. They would go for the strongest one first, and then they could gut the other beast. So it's kind of like Clint Eastwood: he always shoots the first guy that he knows is going to be the most trouble, and then everybody else is toast.

Well, anyway, he emphasizes again and again that we should not trust in our own power, but only in the power of God, and it is the Spirit who will sustain us. He says this a lot, and he devotes the whole of chapter 15 to this. And he uses the example of the Israelites, and how quickly they forgot about the fact that it was God who delivered them, right? He warns them, lest after you have eaten in your fields, and built nice houses to live in, and have herds of oxen and flocks of sheep and plenty of gold and silver, you become filled with pride and forget God. So he saw that as a very dangerous thing. He says, when your struggle with carnal faults has gone well for you, and you see yourself free from the filth of them, and from the passions of this world, do not be puffed up by the success of the conflict and victory and ascribe it to your own power and wisdom, nor fancy that you have gained the victory over spiritual wickedness and carnal sins through your own exertions and energy and free will. Notice all three of those. For there is no doubt that in all this you could not possibly have succeeded unless you had been fortified and protected by the help of the Lord.

And so when he's talking about practicing fasting and abstinence, he says, when you've gotten the better of gluttony and all the other things, your job's about half done. The other half is going to be everything else. Everything up to this point has been defense, if you will, but then you need to go on the offense. And that's where he's going to talk about the four cardinal virtues—prudence, justice, temperance, fortitude—the theological virtues like faith, hope, love, and, of course, the fruits of the Spirit too: joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control. These are all straight out of Scripture. Because he understands that when you cultivate these, it doesn't give room for the others. So this is the cultivation of those to make no room for anything else.

So, yeah, if you don't cultivate the virtues and the fruits of the Spirit, he says, concupiscence—the unhealthy desires and passions—are going to come back, and guess what, they're going to invite a bunch of other spirits with them too. Just like Jesus' parable, right, of—you clean house, and the spirit out there, wandering, then decides, hey, I think I'll go back, and let's go have a party at Joel's place, with seven others. So that's what he warns about.

So let me conclude by saying that this is just one conference. There are twenty-four of them, and it's not going to talk about everything that comes up, even with regard to the passions, but it's one that I decided to focus on to allow you to see how a church father from the fourth century takes these apart and gets it into manageable parts, where then he can offer pastoral care to his monks and serve them. So they're not all the same, is what he would say, and recognize them for what they are. But also recognize God for who he is, and recognize that he has given you his Spirit, he has given you his word, he's given you the baptism into a new life, and also that medicine of immortality. You've got the forces on your side. But you never would pretend that it's not a struggle. It always is a struggle. And I thank you for struggling with me through this. This is the first time of my thinking through some of this too. So I wanted to try it out on you, and I appreciate your kindness in allowing me to do so. Thank you for your kind attention.