The Conferences 18.15–18.16

“Now let us set out another example, that of Abba Paphnutius. He always kept to the secret places of that famous and everywhere celebrated desert of Scete, where he is now presbyter, with such zeal that the other anchorites gave him the nickname ‘Buffalo,’ because with an inborn, so to speak, desire for solitude he always delighted in living alone. When in his boyhood he was of such virtue and grace that even the eminent and greatest men of that time admired his seriousness and unshakable constancy, and, though he was younger in age, put him on a level with the elders for the merit of his virtues and thought he should be admitted to their rank, that envy which once roused the brothers’ minds against the patriarch Joseph set one of the brothers on fire with the flame of jealousy. Wishing to disfigure his beauty with some blemish and stain, he devised this kind of malice: he watched for an opportunity when Paphnutius would be away from his cell going to church on the Lord’s day, secretly slipped into it, and hid his own book among the plaited mats which Paphnutius used to weave from palm leaves. Then, secure in the plot he had contrived, he too came to church as though his conscience were pure and simple. When the whole service had been celebrated as usual, he brought a complaint before all the brothers to Saint Isidore, who was presbyter of that desert before this same Paphnutius, declaring that his book had been stolen from his cell. This complaint so disturbed the minds of all the brothers, and especially of the presbyter, that they did not know what to suspect first or what to decide, all being struck with the greatest amazement at the novelty of a crime unheard of there; for no one remembered such a thing done in that desert before that time, nor was it ever committed afterward. The accuser who had raised the matter pressed that all should be kept in the church while chosen men were sent to search the cells of all the brothers one by one. When this had been assigned by the presbyter to three elders, they turned over everyone’s bedding and at last found the book in Paphnutius’s cell, hidden among the palm mats, which they call siras, just as the plotter had concealed it. When the searchers at once brought it to church and produced it before all, Paphnutius, although he was secure in the sincerity of his conscience, yet, as one who acknowledged the crime of theft, gave himself wholly to making satisfaction and humbly asked for a place of penance. In this he was looking to his modesty and shame, lest, if he tried to wash away the stain of theft by words, he should also be branded with lying, since no one suspected anything other than what had been found. He at once left the church, not so much downcast in mind as trusting in the judgment of God; and with tears poured out constantly in prayer and with fasts tripled, he prostrated himself with the greatest humility of mind even in the sight of men. When for nearly two weeks he had subjected himself with every contrition of flesh and spirit, so that on Saturday and Sunday he came early in the morning not to receive holy communion but to prostrate himself at the threshold of the church and humbly ask for pardon, he who is the witness and knower of all hidden things would by no means allow him to be crushed any longer by himself or defamed by others. For what that inventor of the crime, the shameless thief of his own property, the cunning defamer of another’s good name, had committed with no human witness, he made public through the devil, who had been the instigator of that very crime. He was seized by a most cruel demon and laid bare all the plots of his secret scheme, and the same man became the betrayer of the charges and frauds who had devised them. He was so severely and for so long tormented by that unclean spirit that he could not be cleansed even by the prayers of the saints who lived there, who by the merit of divine gifts had command over demons. Not even the singular grace of the presbyter Isidore himself drove out his most cruel tormentor, though so great a power had been given him by the Lord’s bounty that no possessed person brought even to his threshold was ever slow to be healed. For Christ was reserving this glory for the young Paphnutius, that the man should be cleansed only by the prayers of the one he had plotted against, and that, calling on the name of the one from whose praise the envious enemy had thought he could take something away, he should receive pardon for his offense and an end to his present punishment. So Paphnutius in his youth, already showing signs of his future character, traced, while still in his boyhood years, some outlines of that perfection which was to grow with maturity of age. If, then, we wish to reach the height of his virtues, we must lay such foundations at the beginning.”

“A twofold reason moved me to tell this story. First, that weighing this man’s steadiness and constancy, we may take up a greater disposition of tranquillity and patience in proportion as the snares with which the enemy attacks us are smaller. Second, that we may hold as a firm principle that we cannot be safe from the storms of temptation and the assaults of the devil if we place all the defense of our patience and all our confidence not in the strength of our inner man but in the enclosure of our cells, the retreat of solitude, the company of the saints, or the protection of anything outside ourselves. For unless he who says in the Gospel, ‘The kingdom of God is within you,’ strengthens our mind by the power of his protection, we believe in vain that we can overcome the snares of the enemy of the air by the help of the men who live with us, or avoid them by distance of place, or shut them out by the defense of roofs. For although none of these things was lacking to holy Paphnutius, the tempter nevertheless did find a way to attack him, and neither the enclosure of walls, nor the solitude of the desert, nor the merits of so many saints in that community drove off that most wicked spirit. But because the holy servant of God had fixed the hope of his heart not on things outside but on the judge of all hidden things himself, he could not be moved by the engines of so great an assault. On the other hand, did not the man whom envy hurled into so great a crime enjoy the benefit of solitude, the protection of a more remote dwelling, and the company of the blessed abba and presbyter Isidore and the other saints? Yet because the devil’s whirlwind found him built on the sand, it not only struck his house but overthrew it. Let us not, then, seek our peace outside ourselves, nor think that another’s patience can help the faults of our impatience. For just as the kingdom of God is within us, so ‘a man’s enemies are those of his own household.’ For no one opposes me more than my own mind, which is truly the most intimate member of my household. So if we are watchful, we can by no means be harmed by enemies within. For where the members of our own household do not oppose us, there the kingdom of God too is gained in tranquillity of mind. For if you examine the matter carefully, I cannot be harmed by any man, however malicious, if I do not fight against myself with an impatient heart. If I am harmed, the fault is not in another’s attack but in my own impatience. For just as heavy and solid food is useful to the healthy but harmful to the sick, it cannot harm the one who takes it unless the weakness of the one receiving it gives it the power to do harm. If, then, a similar temptation ever arises among the brothers, let us by no means be shaken from the course of our tranquillity and open the way to the blasphemous slanders of worldly people; nor let us wonder that some perverse and detestable men lurk hidden among the number of holy men. For while we are trodden and threshed on the threshing floor of this world, it must be that chaff destined for eternal fire is mixed in with the choicest wheat. Finally, if we remember that Satan was chosen among the angels, Judas among the apostles, and Nicolaus, the inventor of a most depraved heresy, among the deacons, it cannot be surprising that the most wicked men are found enrolled in the ranks of the saints. For although some say that this Nicolaus was not the one who was chosen by the apostles for the work of ministry, they still cannot deny that he was of the number of the disciples, all of whom, it is clear, were at that time such and so perfect as we now scarcely find a very few in the coenobia. Let us then set before ourselves not the fall of the brother mentioned above, who slipped so lamentably in that desert, nor that horrible stain, which he afterward washed away with great tears of repentance, but rather the example of blessed Paphnutius. Let us not be destroyed by the overthrow of the one whose old vice of envy an affected piety only made worse, but let us follow with all our strength the humility of the other, which the quiet of the desert did not suddenly produce in him, but which, acquired among men, solitude perfected and refined. It must be recognized, indeed, that the disease of envy comes to a cure with more difficulty than other vices. For I might almost say that one whom it has once corrupted with the plague of its poison is without remedy. For this is the plague of which it is said figuratively through the prophet: ‘Behold, I will send among you basilisk serpents, which cannot be charmed, and they shall bite you.’ Rightly, then, does the prophet compare the bites of envy to the deadly poison of the basilisk, by which the first author and prince of all poisons both perished and caused others to perish. For he destroyed himself before the one he envied, and ruined himself before he poured the poison of death into man; ‘for through the envy of the devil death entered into the world, and those who are on his side imitate him.’ For as he who was first corrupted by the plague of this evil admitted neither the remedy of repentance nor the salve of any cure, so those who have given themselves up to be struck by the same bites shut out all the help of the holy charmer. For since they are tormented not by the fault of those they envy but by their prosperity, they are ashamed to reveal the truth itself and look outside themselves for superfluous and foolish causes of offense. Since these are altogether false, curing them is in vain, while that deadly poison which they will not reveal lies hidden in their marrow. Of them that wisest man fittingly said: ‘If a serpent bites without hissing, there is no advantage for the charmer.’ For these are the silent bites for which alone the medicine of the wise is of no help. For this ruin is so incurable that it is aggravated by kindness, swollen by services, and provoked by gifts, since, as the same Solomon says, ‘Jealousy endures nothing.’ The more another advances in humble submission, in the virtue of patience, or in the praise of generosity, the more is the envious man spurred by greater stings of envy, since he desires nothing but the ruin or death of the one he envies. So the jealousy of those eleven patriarchs could not be softened by any submission of their innocent brother, so that Scripture records of them: ‘His brothers envied him because his father loved him, and they could not speak anything peaceable to him,’ until their jealousy, which could bear no kindnesses from an obedient and submissive brother, desiring his death, could scarcely be satisfied by the crime of selling their brother. It is clear, then, that envy is more pernicious than all the vices and harder to purge, since it is inflamed by the very remedies that extinguish the others. For example, one who grieves at a loss inflicted on him is cured by generous compensation; one who is indignant at an injury is appeased by humble satisfaction. What can you do with one who is offended precisely because he feels you are humbler and kinder, whom neither covetousness, which is soothed by a reward, nor the hurt of an injury or the love of revenge, which is overcome by kind services, moves to anger, but only the success of another’s happiness provokes? Who is there who would wish, in order to satisfy one who envies him, to fall from his goods, or be deprived of his prosperity, or be involved in some calamity? Therefore, lest the basilisk kill with one bite of so great an evil all that is alive in us and, as it were, animated by the life-giving vigor of the Holy Spirit, let us constantly implore the divine help, to which nothing is impossible. For the other poisons of serpents, that is, carnal sins or vices, in which human frailty is as quickly entangled as it is easily purged, leave some traces of their wounds in the flesh; and although the earthly body swells with them most perniciously, yet if some most skilled charmer of divine songs applies the remedy of an antidote or the medicine of saving words, the virulent evil does not come to the eternal death of the soul. But the poison of envy, as though poured out by the basilisk serpent, destroys the very life of religion and faith before any wound is felt in the body. For the one who carps at nothing in his brother but his happiness is lifted up in blasphemy not against a man but plainly against God, and finds fault not with the man’s guilt but only with God’s judgments. This, then, is that root of bitterness springing up, which, raising itself on high, reaches to the insult of the very author who bestows good things on man. Nor let it disturb anyone that God threatens to send basilisk serpents to bite those by whose crimes he is offended. For although it is certain that God cannot be the author of envy, it is still just and worthy of the divine judgment that, when good gifts are bestowed on the humble and denied to the proud and reprobate, envy, as though sent by him, should strike and consume those who, according to the apostle, deserve to be handed over to a reprobate mind, according to the word: ‘They provoked me to jealousy with what is not God, and I will provoke them to jealousy with what is not a nation.’” With this discourse blessed Piamun inflamed more ardently our desire, by which we had begun to strive from the first school of the coenobium toward the second grade of anachoresis. For it was under his instruction that we first took up the beginnings of the solitary life, whose knowledge we afterward gained more fully in Scete.