Cassian and Telos

The writings of the Desert Abbas and Ammas portray a people living with a remarkable singleness of mind. They left all, because heaven was real to them. In speaking of these ascetics, Cassain describes scopos (goal) and telos (the end that is proper to them), through examples of other professions, the warrior, the merchant, and the athlete. All such individuals endure deprivations and dangers because their minds are focused on the end result, the reward. The same lessons apply to monastics and to Christians. Cassian says, The end of our profession… is the kingdom of heaven. But, he says, the goal or scopos is purity of heart, without which it is impossible for anyone to reach that end. Fixing our gaze on this goal, then, as on a definite mark, we shall take the most direct route. And what is that route? Finding first the kingdom of God within our own souls, being aware of the presence of God within.


The desert fathers lived an ascetical life precisely to find that kingdom of God. It prompted them toward sacrifice and abstinence, tears and prayers, sighs and groans. All became part of the process of emptying the heart of all that was not pure, so that they might see God here and now, within.

John Tauler says: Those who look within themselves for the gifts and decrees of God partake of them at their very fountainhead, and there they give them back again. They draw and taste at the very fountainhead… nowhere can they find their own selves in a way so certain and so simple as in that innermost depth, where we feel the immediate presence of God…[From The Sermons and Conferences of John Tauler].

Jean Vanier says that we forget that God comes to us in the deepest part of our beings, at the source of our life, the innermost heart…[from The Heart of L’Arche: A spirituality for every day]. Our task is to prepare our eyes to see the pearl of great price hidden within the field of our own heart.

My Light and my Salvation

The Lord is my light and my salvation, says psalm 27.

When I first prayed this psalm, I believed it was a prayer of trust...if God is with you, whom should you fear? No one. But then life's trials ovecame me. My prayer of trust seemed small, unheard, and forgotten. I soon turned to other prayers, those that cried for help and assistance, not those that spoke of me being strong.

But when healing came and my life changed, Psalm 27 changed too. Instead of reading it as a prayer of trust, I began to see it as my witness to the truth. Light draws. Jesus draws. But sometimes Jesus hides or seems far away. Who will be the light during these times? I will, by being the faithful soul who is open to letting the light shine forth.

Have you ever been in the presence of someone who radiated light, and you were awed to experience God's power within the human soul? Having the Light within speaks volumes. Such light brings salvation to others. The Lord is my light so that I may be someone's refuge. Not by words. But by following the inspiration that brings comfort to a grieving or suffering soul. The Lord is my light. We are called to be light as well.

Finding My Way

Often the following of Jesus is described in negative terms; the way is narrow, few are those who find it. Many are called, few are chosen. Such lines could fill us with the dread that unless we are in some way miserable, unless life is hard and we are suffering, we aren’t followers of Jesus.

I beg to differ. St. Catherine of Siena says that “the way to heaven is broad,” and that “all the way to heaven is heaven.” I’ve always been impressed with the contradiction of St. Catherine’s statement and St Matthew’s gospel passages.

So what is this narrow way promoted by Matthew? I’ve come to believe that the narrow way spoken of in the gospel points to the way destined for the individual, one no one else has traveled before, because it is meant for me alone. Following that way is difficult, because it requires learning discernment, overcoming the fear of making a decision because it might be wrong. It means taking chances, having courage to be responsible for my choices, having the ability to say I’m wrong, turn around, and try again. To follow the “narrow way” is to follow that path set out for me alone, the one God intended that my feet, and only my feet trod, the one that leads to my destiny. It requires blazing my way through areas no one else has gone before. It requires letting God be my beacon, over everyone else. Yea, scary stuff. But oh! so fulfilling! It doesn’t discount other’s inspiration and admirable conduct. But it does realize that however much I’m influenced by another’s journey, my journey requires a particular faithfulness to God’s plan for me. And few there are who have the courage to believe and follow such an individualized path.

Trust

We all know that one of the greatest assets we can have in life is knowledge and belief in our inner strength. For a Christian, that strength comes from trust in the power and the presence of the Almighty. Trust is not built by prayers answered, but by silence to prayers…a seeming neglect of God. The gospels give adequate examples of such neglect: consider the raging storm on the sea when the Lord slept in the boat until, in terror, the disciples cry out, “Lord, save us.” And His reply was, “Why were you afraid?” Their ship was being tossed and thrown about in the waves, about to sink. But they had forgotten the most important thing: that they had Jesus there among them. Whatever happened, he would be there.

I’m always reminded of a tough time in my life, when I prayed psalm 23 and wondered, if the Lord is my shepherd, and I should not want, why do I want? Was Jesus really not my true love? Was it inappropriate to have needs? What was wrong with me? I had forgotten to continue reading the psalm, to the words, “even though I walk in the dark valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me with your rod and your staff that give me courage.” If I had found that line in my heart, I would have been comforted with the knowledge that it is not so much prayers answered, or light received, or miracles happening that show the power, love, and care of God for us, for me. It is darkness endured, trial undergone, pain received. We can manage these things because God is with us. His presence is so deep within us that we can forget it is there. In hindsight, perhaps we will see how the Hand of God led us on. In the moment, we need trust to know that however dark that valley is, we should not fear. We should reach out in the dark, knowing that the unseen hand of God is already reaching out to sustain us in our struggle. Once we become convinced of that, we are terrible indeed. For then, nothing will separate us from the Love of Christ, and our steps will be firm along the way, knowing that we do not travel alone. This is our source of inner strength, a source not dependant upon externals that sift and change with time. But a source that guides us even in our darkest hour.

Metanoia

An important concept that comes straight from the gospels is that of conversion. Early hermits of the Egyptian desert looked upon this concept as fundamental to Christian living, and called it metanoia. The concept is deep and profound, and considered by early Abbâs and Ammâs of the desert to be the only authentic sign of a true follower. By its nature, metanoia is an act repeated daily, hourly, every moment of one's life.

To understand this concept, it is good to look at how modern day monastics explain it. In a sermon by Matta El-Meskeen, a modern-day Eastern-rite monk, we read: “…the word repentance is a rendering of the original Greek  metanoia which means literally a ‘change of thinking’ or a ‘transformation of the spirit’” (From his book Communion of Love). It is the duty of monastics to begin their life by first changing their thinking...from myself to "I AM".  We all know the struggle such change requires. We can't decide once, and it happens. We have to struggle continually to turn from the "me" to the "Thou". The process begins a transformation of heart that allows God's grace to permeate the mind and soul, and elevates the spirit, teaching it through infused knowledge.  As Olivier Clément writes, it is "knowledge which begins and proceeds by way of repentance, or as the Gospel and the Greek Fathers call it, metanoia: the turning round of our self-awareness, the Copernician shift of the self (individual or collective) from geocentric to heliocentric, enabling us to see in the depth of everything around us the furnace of the divine sun" (On Human Being: A Spiritual Anthropology).

The Abbâs and Ammâs of the desert knew the grace of metanoia.  Once the soul turns around toward God, in a face to face manner, God's light will enter the soul, cleansing it, enlightening it, filling it. Such face to face contemplation cannot but lead the soul to a higher level of consciousness of God.