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These four volumes on the Eastern Fathers of the fourth century and the Byzantine fathers from the fifth to eighth centuries were originally published in 1931 and 1933 in Russian. They contained my lectures given at the Institute of Orthodox Theology in Paris from 1928 to 1931 and were originally published in Russian more or less in the form in which they were originally delivered. They therefore lacked exact references and appropriate footnotes. Another reason for the omission of reference material in the 1931 and 1933 publications is that the books were originally published at my own expense and strict economy was therefore necessary. In fact, their publication was only the result of the generous cooperation and help of personal friends. These English publications must be dedicated to their memory. The initiative of the original publication was taken by Mrs. Elizabeth Skobtsov, who became an Orthodox nun and was later known under her monastic name of Mother Maria. It was she who typed the original manuscripts and she who was able to persuade Mr. Iliia Fondaminsky, at that time one of the editors of the renowned Russian review, Sovremennye Zapiski [Annales Contemporaries], to assume financial responsibility. Both these friends perished tragically in German concentration camps. They had been inspired by the conviction that books in Russian on the Fathers of the Church were badly needed, not only by theological students, but also by a much wider circle of those concerned with doctrinal and spiritual vistas and issues of Eastern Orthodox Tradition. Their expectation was fully justified: the volumes in Russian rapidly sold out and were warmly appreciated in the general press.

When I began teaching at the Paris Institute, as Professor of Patrology, I had to face a preliminary methodological problem. The question of the scope and manner of Patristic studies had been vigorously debated by scholars for a long time. (There is an excellent book by Fr. J. de Ghellinck, S.J., Patristique et Moyen Age, Volume II, 1947, pp. 1-180). The prevailing tendency was to treat Patrology as a history of Ancient Christian Literature, and the best modern manuals of Patrology in the West were written precisely in this manner: Bardenhewer, Cayre, Tixeront, Quasten, adherents to this school of thought, made only sporadic reference to certain points of doctrine but their approach was no doubt legitimate and useful. However, another cognate discipline came into existence during the last century, Dogmengeschichte, or the school of the history of doctrine. Here scholars were concerned not so much with individual writers or thinkers but rather with what can be defined as the "internal dialectics" of the Christian "mind" and with types and trends of Christian thought.

In my opinion, these two approaches to the same material must be combined and correlated. I have tried to do precisely this with the revision of some of the material for the English publications. I have written some new material on the external history and especially on the ecumenical councils. But in essence Patrology must be more than a kind of literary history. It must be treated rather as a history of Christian doctrine, although the Fathers were first of all testes veritatis, witnesses of truth, of the faith. "Theology" is wider and more comprehensive than "doctrine." It is a kind of Christian Philosophy. Indeed, there is an obvious analogy between the study of Patristics and the study of the history of Philosophy. Historians of Philosophy are as primarily concerned with individual thinkers as they are interested ultimately in the dialectics of ideas. The "essence" of philosophy is exhibited in particular systems. Unity of the historical process is assured because of the identity of themes and problems to which both philosophers and theologians are committed. I would not claim originality for my method, for it has been used occasionally by others. But I would underline the theological character of Patrology.

These books were written many years ago. At certain points they needed revision or extension. To some extent, this has been done. Recent decades have seen the rapid progress of Patristic studies in many directions. We now have better editions of primary sources than we had forty or even thirty years ago. We now have some new texts of prime importance: for example, the Chapters of Evagrius or the new Sermons of St. John Chrysostom. Many excellent monograph studies have been published in recent years. But in spite of this progress I do not think that these books, even without the revisions and additions, have been made obsolete. Based on an independent study of primary sources, these works may still be useful to both students and scholars.

If the monastic ideal is union with God through prayer, through humility, through obedience, through constant recognition of one's sins, voluntary or involuntary, through a renunciation of the values of this world, through poverty, through chastity, through love for mankind and love for God, then is such an ideal Christian? For some the very raising of such a question may appear strange and foreign. But the history of Christianity, especially the new theological attitude that obtained as a result of the Reformation, forces such a question and demands a serious answer. If the monastic ideal is to attain a creative spiritual freedom, if the monastic ideal realizes that freedom is attainable only in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, and if the monastic ideal asserts that to become a slave to God is ontologically and existentially the path to becoming free, the path in which humanity fully becomes human precisely because the created existence of humanity is contingent upon God, is by itself bordered on both sides by non-existence, then is such an ideal Christian? Is such an ideal Biblical — New Testamental? Or is this monastic ideal, as its opponents have claimed, a distortion of authentic Christianity, a slavery to mechanical "monkish" "works righteousness"?

When our Lord was about to begin his ministry, he went into the desert — els' την έρημον. Our Lord had options but he selected — or rather, "was lead by the Spirit," into the desert. It is obviously not a meaningless action, not a selection of type of place without significance. And there — in the desert — our Lord engages in spiritual combat, for he "fasted forty days and forty nights” — νηστεύσας ήμερας τεσσαράκοντα και νύκτας· τεσσαρακοστά ύστερον έπείνασεν. The Gospel of St. Mark adds that our Lord “was with tins wild beasts” — και ην μετά των θηρίων. Our Lord, the God-Man, was truly God and truly man. Exclusive of our Lord's redemptive work, unique to our Lord alone, he calls us to follow him — και άκολονθείτω μοι. “Following” our Lord is not exclusionary; it is not selecting certain psychologically pleasing aspects of our Lord's life and teachings to follow. Rather it is all-embracing. We are to follow our Lord in every way possible. "To go into the desert" is "to follow" our Lord. It is interesting that our Lord returns to the desert after the death of St. John the Baptist. There is an obvious reason for this. "And hearing [of John the Baptist's death] Jesus departed from there in a ship to a desert place privately” — άνεχώρησεν εκείθεν εν πλοίω εις έρημον τόπον και ιδίαν. When St. Antony goes to the desert, he is "following" the example of our Lord — indeed, he is "following" our Lord. This in no way diminishes the unique, salvific work of our Lord, this in no way makes of our Lord God, the God-Man, a mere example. But in addition to his redemptive work, which could be accomplished only by our Lord, our Lord taught and set examples. And by "following" our Lord into the desert, St. Antony was entering a terrain already targeted and stamped by our Lord as a specific place for spiritual warfare. There is both specificity and "type" in the "desert." In those geographical regions where there are no deserts, there are places which are similar to or approach that type of place symbolized by the "desert," It is that type of place which allows the human heart solace, isolation. It is the type of place which puts the human heart in a state of aloneness, a state in which to meditate, to pray, to fast, to reflect upon one's inner existence and one's relationship to ultimate reality — God. And more. It is a place where spiritual reality is intensified, a place where spiritual life can intensify and simultaneously where the opposing forces to spiritual life can become more dominant. It is the terrain of a battlefield but a spiritual one. And it is our Lord, not St. Antony, who has set the precedent. Our Lord says that "as for what is sown among thorns, this is he who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the deceit of riches choke(s) the word, and it becomes unfruitful” — ό δε εις τας άκανθας σπαρείς, ουτος εστίν ό τον λόγον άκονων, και ή μέριμνα τον αίώνος· και ή απάτη τον πλουτου συμπνίγει τον λόγον, και άκαρπος γίνεται. The desert, or a place similar, precisely cuts off the cares or anxieties of the world and the deception, the deceit of earthly riches. It cuts one off precisely from "this-worldliness" and precisely as such it contains within itself a powerful spiritual reason for existing within the spiritual paths of the Church. Not as the only path, not as the path for everyone, but as one, fully authentic path of Christian life.

In the Gospel of St. Matthew (5:16) it is our Lord who uses the terminology of "good works." " Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and may glorify your Father who is in heaven” — όυτως λαμψάτω το φως υμών έμπροσθεν των ανθρώπων, οπως ιδωσιν υμών τα καλά έργα καί δοξάσωσιν τον πατέρα υμών τον εν τοις ουρανοίς. Contextually these “good works” are defined in the preceding text of the Beatitudes. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth” — μακάριοι oι πραείς, δη αυτοί κληρονομησουσιν την γην. “Blessed are they who are hungering and are thirsting for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied” — μακάριοι οι πεινώντες καί διψώντες την δικαιοσυνην, ότι αυτοί χορτασθήσοντα. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” — μακάριοι οι καθαροί τη καρδία, δη αυτοί τον θεον οψονται. Is it not an integral part of the monastic goal to become meek, to hunger and thirst for righteousness, and to become pure in heart? This, of course, must be the goal of all Christians but monasticism, which makes it an integral part of its ascetical life, can in no way be excluded. Are not the Beatitudes more than just rhetorical expressions? Are not the Beatitudes a part of the commandments of our Lord? In the Gospel of St. Matthew (5:19) our Lord expresses a deeply meaningful thought — rather a warning. "Whoever therefore breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven” — ος εάν oυν λύση μίαν των εντολών τούτων των ελαχίστων καί διδάξη ουτως τους άνθρωπους, ελάχιστος κληθήσεται εν τη βασιλεία των ουρανών. And it is in this context that our Lord continues to deepen the meaning of the old law with a new, spiritual significance, a penetrating interiorization of the "law." He does not nullify or abrogate the law but rather extends it to its most logical and ontological limit, for he drives the spiritual meaning of the law into the very depth of the inner existence of mankind.

"You heard that it was said to those of old... but I say to you” — ήκούσατε οτι έρρέθη τοις αρχαίοις... εγώ δε λέγω υμιν. Now, with the deepening of the spiritual dimension of the law, the old remains, it is the base, but its spiritual reality is pointed to its source. “You shall not kill” becomes inextricably connected to “anger.” “But I say to you that everyone being angry with his brother shall be liable to the judgment” — εγώ δε λέγω ύμιν οτι πας ό οργιζόμενος τω άδελφω αυτού ένοχος εσται τη κρίσει No longer is the external act the only focal point. Rather the source, the intent, the motive is now to be considered as the soil from which the external act springs forth. Mankind must now guard, protect, control, and purify the inner emotion or attitude of "anger" and, in so doing, consider it in the same light as the external act of killing or murder. Our Lord has reached into the innermost depth of the human heart and has targeted the source of the external act. "You shall not commit adultery. But I say to you that everyone who is seeing a woman lustfully, has already committed adultery with her in his heart” — ου μοιχεύσεις. εγώ δε λέγω νμίν οτι πας ό βλέπων γυναίκα προς το έπιθυμήσαι αυτήν ήδη έμοίχευσεν αυτήν εν τη καρδία αυτόν. From a spiritual perspective the person who does not act externally but lusts within is equally liable to the reality of "adultery." "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and you shall hate your enemy'. But I say to you: Love your enemies and pray for those persecuting you so that you may become sons of your Father in heaven” — ήκουσατε ότι έρρέθη, αγαπήσεις τον πλησίον σου και μισήσεις τον έχθρόν σον. εγώ δε λέγω υμιν, αγαπάτε τους έχθρόυς υμών και προσευχεσθε υπέρ των διωκόντων υμάς.

The Christian idea of love is indeed something new. But it is not something so radically odd that the human soul cannot understand it. It is not such a "transvaluation of all ancient values," as Anders Nygren has claimed in his lengthy study Agape and Eros (originally published in Swedish in 1947 as Den kristna karlekstanken genom tiderna, Eros och Agape; published in two volumes in 1938 and 1939; two volumes published in one paperback edition by Harper and Row in 1969). Although there are certain aspects of truth in some of Nygren's statements, his very premise is incorrect. Nygren reads back into the New Testament and the early Church the basic position of Luther rather than dealing with early Christian thought from within its own milieu. Such an approach bears little ultimate fruit and often, as in the case of his position in Agape and Eros, distorts the original sources with presuppositions that entered the history of Christian thought 1500 years after our Lord altered the very nature of humanity by entering human existence as God and Man. There is much in Luther that is interesting, perceptive, and true. However, there is also much that does not speak the same language as early Christianity. And herein lies the great divide in the ecumenical dialogue. For the ecumenical dialogue to bear fruit, the very controversies that separate the churches must not be hushed up. Rather they must be brought into the open and discussed frankly, respectfully, and thoroughly. There is much in Luther with which Eastern Orthodox theologians especially can relate. Monasticism, however, is one area in which there is profound disagreement. Even Luther at first did not reject monasticism. Luther's Reformation was the result of his understanding of the New Testament, an understanding which Luther himself calls "new." His theological position had already been formed before the issue of indulgences and his posting of his Ninety-Five Theses. Nygren, loyal to Luther's theological vision, has a theological reason for his position in Agape and Eros. Nygren identifies his interpretation of Agape with the monoenergistic concept of God, a concept of God that would be correct in and of itself, for God is the source of everything. But once we confront the mystery of creation, the mystery of that "other" existence, that created existence which includes mankind, we face a totally different situation. The existential and ontological meaning of man's created existence is precisely that God did not have to create, that it was a free act of Divine freedom. But — and here is the great difficulty created by an unbalanced western Christianity on the doctrine of grace and freedom — in freely creating man God willed to give man an inner spiritual freedom. In no sense is this a Pelagian or Semi-Pelagian position. The balanced synergistic doctrine of the early and Eastern Church, a doctrine misunderstood and undermined by Latin Christianity in general from St. Augustine on — although there was always opposition to this in the Latin Church — always understood that God initiates, accompanies, and completes everything in the process of salvation. What it always rejected — both spontaneously and intellectually — is the idea of irresistible grace, the idea that man has no participating role in his salvation. Nygren identifies any participation of man in his salvation, any movement of human will and soul toward God, as a pagan distortion of Agape, as "Eros." And this attitude, this theological perspective will in essence be the determining point for the rejection of monasticism and other forms of asceticism and spirituality so familiar to the Christian Church from its inception.

If Nygren's position on Agape is correct, then the words of our Lord, quoted above, would have had no basis in the hearts of the listeners for understanding. Moreover, our Lord, in using the verbal form of Agape — αγαπάτε — uses the “old” commandment as the basis for the giving of the new, inner dimension of the spiritual extension of that commandment of agape, of love. If Nygren is correct, the "old" context of agape would have been meaningless, especially as the foundation upon which our Lord builds the new spiritual and ontological character of agape. Nygren's point is that "the Commandment of Love" occurs in the Old Testament and that it is "introduced in the Gospels, not as something new, but as quotations from the Old Testament." He is both correct and wrong. Correct in that it is a reference taken from the Old Testament. Where else was our Lord to turn in addressing "his people"? He is wrong in claiming that it is nothing but a quotation from the Old Testament, precisely because our Lord uses the Old Testament reference as a basis upon which to build. Hence, the foundation had to be secure else the building would have been flawed and the teaching erroneous. Indeed, Nygren himself claims that "Agape can never be 'self-evident'." In making such a claim, Nygren has undercut any possibility for the hearers of our Lord to understand any discourse in which our Lord uses the term "Agape." And yet Nygren writes that "it can be shown that the Agape motif forms the principal theme of a whole series of Parables." What is meant by this statement is that Nygren's specific interpretation of Agape forms the principal theme of a whole series of Parables. If this is the case, then those hearing the parables could not have understood them, for they certainly did not comprehend Agape in the specificity defined by Nygren, and hence the parables — according to the inner logic of Nygren's position — were meaningless to the contemporaries of our Lord, to his hearers.

To be filled by the love of and for God is the monastic ideal. In the Gospel of St. Matthew (22:34-40) our Lord is asked which is the greatest commandment. "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind [understanding]. This the great and first commandment. And a second is like it, You shall love your neighbor as yourself. In these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets” — αγαπήσεις κύριον τον θεόν σου εν ολη τη καρδία σου και εν ολη τη ψυχή σον και εν ολη τη διάνοια σον. αυτη εστίν ή μεγάλη και πρώτη εντολή, δευτέρα δε όμοια αύτη, αγαπήσεις τον πλησίον σον ώς σεαντόν. εν ταύταις ταις δυσίν έντολαις ολος ό νόμος κρέμαται και οι προφήται. The monastic and ascetic ideal is to cultivate the love of the heart, the soul, and the mind for God. Anders Nygren's commentary on this text in his Agape and Eros is characteristic of his general position. "It has long been recognized that the idea of Agape represents a distinctive and original feature of Christianity. But in what precisely does its originality and distinctiveness consist? This question has often been answered by reference to the Commandment of Love. The double commandment, ‘Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all they heart’ and ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,’ has been taken as the natural starting-point for the exposition of the meaning of Christian love. Yet the fact is that if we start with the commandment, with Agape as something demanded, we bar our own way to the understanding of the idea of Agape... If the Commandment of Love can be said to be specifically Christian, as undoubtedly it can, the reason is to be found, not in the commandment as such, but in the quite new meaning that Christianity has given it... To reach an understanding of the Christian idea of love simply by reference to the Commandment of Love is therefore impossible; to attempt it is to move in a circle. We could never discover the nature of Agape, love in the Christian sense, if we had nothing to guide us but the double command... It is not the commandment that explains the idea of Agape, but insight into the Christian conception of Agape that enables us to grasp the Christian meaning of the commandment. We must therefore seek another starting-point" (pp. 61-63). This is indeed an odd position for one who comes from the tradition of sola Scriptura, for the essence of his position is not sola Scriptura but precisely that Scripture must be interpreted — and here the interpretation comes not from within the matrix of early Christianity but from afar, from an interpretation that to a great extent depends on an interpretation of Christianity that came into the history of Christian thought approximately 1500 years after the beginning of Christian teaching, and that is with the assumption that Nygren is following the general position of Luther. In his analysis of certain interpretations of what constitutes the uniqueness of Christian love and in his rejection of these interpretations as that which determines the uniqueness of Christian love Nygren is in part correct. "This, in fact, is the root-fault of all the interpretations we have so far considered; they fail to recognize that Christian love rests on a quite definite, positive basis of its own. What, then, is this basis?" Nygren approaches the essence of the issue but neglects the important aspect of human ontology, a human ontology created by God. "The answer to this question may be found in the text... 'Love your enemies'. It is true that love for one's enemies is at variance with our immediate natural feelings, and may therefore seem to display the negative character suggested above; but if we consider the motive underlying it we shall see that it is entirely positive. The Christian is commanded to love his enemies, not because the other side teaches hatred of them, but because there is a basis and motive for such love in the concrete, positive fact of God's own love for evil men. 'He maketh His sun to rise on the evil and the good'. That is why we are told: 'Love your enemies... that ye may be children of your Father which is in heaven'." What Nygren writes here is accurate. But it neglects the significance of human ontology; that is, that we are commanded to love our enemies because there is a spiritual value within the very fabric of human nature created by God, even fallen nature, and that that spiritual value is to be found in each and every man, however dimly we may perceive it. If we begin to love our enemy, we will begin to perceive in that enemy characteristics, aspects that were veiled, that were dimmed by the blindness of our hatred. We are commanded to love our enemy not only because God loves mankind, not only because God "maketh his sun to rise on the evil and the good" but God loves mankind because there is a value in mankind. Nygren writes (p.79) that "the suggestion that man is by nature possessed of such an inalienable value easily gives rise to the thought that it is this matchless value on which God's love is set." It is perhaps inaccurate to assert that Nygren misses the central issue that that which is of value in man is God-created, God-given. It is more accurate to assert that Nygren rejects completely the issue, and he does so because of his theological doctrine of God and man. This again is part of that great divide which separates certain churches within the ecumenical dialogue. There is a basic and fundamental difference of vision on the nature of God and man. One view claims its position is consistent with apostolic Christianity, consistent with the apostolic deposit, and consistent with the teaching and life of the early Church and of the Church in all ages. Another view begins with the Reformation. Both views claim the support of the New Testament. Luther's writings on the Divine nature of love are not only interesting but valuable, not only penetrating but in one emphasis accurate. Indeed, if one considers Luther's doctrine of Divine love by itself, exclusive of his other doctrines, especially those on the nature of man, the nature of salvation, the nature of justification, the doctrine of predestination and grace, one encounters a view not dissimilar from that of ancient Orthodox Christianity. At times Luther can even appear to be somewhat mystically inclined. Luther's well-known description of Christian love as "eine quellende Liebe" [a welling or ever-flowing love] is by itself an Orthodox view. For Luther, as for the Fathers of the Church, this love has no need of anything, it is not caused, it does not come into existence because of a desired object, it is not aroused by desirable qualities of an object. It is the nature of God. But, at the same time, it is God who created mankind and hence the love of God for mankind, though in need of nothing and attracted by nothing, loves mankind not because of a value in man but because there is value in man because man is created by God. Herein lies the difference and it is indeed a great divide when one considers the differing views on the other subjects closely related to the nature of Divine love.

In monastic and ascetical literature from the earliest Christian times the word and idea of "perfect" are often confronted. The monk seeks perfection, the monk wants to begin to become established on the path that may lead to perfection. But is this the result of monasticism? Is it the monastic and ascetical tendencies in early Christianity which bring forth the idea of perfection, which bring forth the idea of spiritual struggle and striving? It is our Lord, not the monks, who injects the goal of perfection into the very fabric of early Christian thought. In the Gospel of St. Matthew (5:48) our Lord commands: "Be ye therefore perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” — έσεσθε oυν ύμεις τέλειοι ως ό πατήρ υμών ό ουράνιος τέλειος εστίν.

Traditional monastic and ascetical life has included among its activities almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. Were these practices imposed upon an authentic Christianity by monasticism or were they incorporated into monastic and ascetical life from original Christianity? In the Gospel of St. Matthew it is once again our Lord and Redeemer who has initiated almsgiving, prayer, and fasting. Our Lord could very easily have abolished such practices. But rather than abolish them, our Lord purifies them, gives them their correct status within the spiritual life which is to do them but to attach no show, no hypocrisy, no glory to the doing of them. It is proper spiritual perspective that our Lord commands. “Take heed that you do not your righteousness before men in order to be seen by them; for then you will have no reward with your Father in heaven” — προσέχετε δε την δικαιοσύνην υμών μη ποιειν έμπροσθεν των ανθρώπων προς το θεαθήναι αυτοις: ει δε μήγε, μισθόν ουκ έχετε παρά τω πατρί υμών τω εν τοις ουρανοις(6:1). “Therefore, when you do alms, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be glorified by men. Truly, I say to you, they have their reward. But when you are doing alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be in secret; and your Father who is seeing in secret will reward you” — οταν oυv ποιης έλεημοσύνην, μη σαλπίσης έμπροσθεν σον, ώσπερ οι υποκριται ποιουσιν εν ταις σνναγωγαις και εν ταις ρυμαις, οπως δοξασθωσιν υπό των ανθρώπων, αμήν λέγω ύμιν, άπέχουσιν τoν μισθόν αυτών, σου δε ποιουντος έλεημοσυνην μη γνώτω ή αριστερά σον τί ποιεί ή δεξιά σου, οπως ή σου ή ελεημοσύνη εν τω κρύπτω, και ό πατήρ σου ό βλέπων εν τω κρυπτω αυτός απόδωσει σοι (6:2-4). And prayer is commanded to be done in a similar manner to ensure its spiritual nature. At this juncture our Lord instructs his followers to use the “Lord's Prayer,” a prayer that is so simple yet so profound, a prayer that contains within it the glorification of the name of God, a prayer that contains within it the invoking of the coming of the kingdom of God, a prayer that acknowledges that the will of God initiates everything and that without the will of God man is lost — γενηθήτω το θέλημα σου. It is a prayer of humility in that it asks for nothing beyond daily sustenance. It is a prayer of human solidarity in forgiveness, for it asks God to forgive us only as we forgive others, and in this a profound reality of spiritual life is portrayed, a life that unites man with God only as man is also united with other persons, with mankind, in forgiveness. And then there is the prayer to be protected from temptation and, if one falls into temptation, the prayer to be delivered from it. So short, so simple, yet so profound both personally and cosmically. Is monasticism a distortion of authentic Christianity because the monks recite the Lord's Prayer at the instruction of and command of our Lord? If monasticism used free, spontaneous prayer, then it could be faulted for not having "followed" our Lord's command. But that is not the case. Is monasticism a deviation because of the frequent use of the Lord's Prayer? Our Lord was specific: when praying, pray this. It does not preclude other prayers but prominence and priority is to be given to the Lord's Prayer. Indeed, it is certainly foreign to our Lord to restrict the frequency of prayer. The "vain repetitions," or more accurately in the Greek, the prohibition of “do not utter empty words as the gentiles, for they think that in their much speaking they will be heard” — this is in essence different than our Lord's intention — μη βατταλογήσητε ώσπερ οι εθνικοί, δοκουσιν γαρ οτι εν τη πολυλογίω αυτών είσακουσθήσονται. And our Lord says more on this subject, a subject considered of importance to him. In the Gospel of St. Matthew (9:15) our Lord makes the point that when he is taken away, then his disciples will fast — teal τότε νηστεύσονσινΛτι. In the Gospel of St. Matthew (17:21) our Lord explains to his disciples that they were unable to cast out the devil because “this kind goes out only by prayer and fasting” — τούτο δε το γένος ουκ εκπορεύεται ει μη εν προσευχή και νηστεία. This verse, it is true, is not in all the ancient manuscripts. It is, however, in sufficient ancient manuscripts and, moreover, it is contained in the Gospel of St. Mark (9:29). It is obvious that our Lord assigns a special spiritual efficacy to prayer and fasting.

Chastity is a monastic and ascetic goal. Not only an external celibacy but an inner chastity of thought. Is this too something imposed upon authentic, original Christianity by a Hellenistic type of thinking or is it contained within the original deposit of apostolic and Biblical Christianity? Again it is our Lord who lays down the path of celibacy and chastity. In the Gospel of St. Matthew (19:10-12) the disciples ask our Lord whether it is expedient to marry. "Not all men can receive this saying but those to whom it has been given. For there are eunuchs who have been so from birth, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by men, and there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. He who is able to grasp it, let him grasp it” — ου παντες χωρουσιν τον λόγον τούτον, αλλ' οις δεδοται. είσίν γαρ ευνούχοι οιτινες εκ κοιλίας μητρός έγεννήθησαν ούτως, και είσίν ευνούχοι οιτινες εύνουχίσθησαν υπό των ανθρώπων, και είσίν ευνούχοι οιτινες ευνούχισαν εαυτούς δια την βασιλείαν των ουρανών, ό δυνάμενος χωρειν χωρείτω. The monastic and ascetical goal merely “follows” the teaching of our Lord. Original Christianity never imposed celibacy. It was, precisely as our Lord has stated, only for those to whom it was given, only to those who might be able to accept such a path. But the path was an authentically Christian path of spirituality laid down by our Lord. In early Christianity not even priests and bishops were required to be celibate. It was a matter of choice. Later the Church thought it wise to require celibacy of the bishops. But in Eastern Christianity celibacy has never been required of one becoming a priest. The choice to marry or to remain celibate had to be made before ordination. If one married before ordination, then one was required to remain married, albeit the ancient Church witnessed exceptions to this. If one was not married when one was ordained, then one was required to remain celibate. The Roman Church, not the Eastern Orthodox Church, extended the requirement of celibacy to priests and had a very difficult time attempting to enforce it throughout the ages. One can never force forms of spirituality upon a person and expect a spiritually fruitful result. The words of our Lord resound with wisdom — to those to whom it is given, to those who can live in this form of spirituality.

Poverty is not the goal but the beginning point of monastic and ascetical life in early Christianity. Was this a precedent established by St. Antony, a new notion and movement never before contained within Christian thought? Again it is our Lord who establishes the spiritual value of poverty. In the Gospel of St. Matthew (19:21) our Lord commands the rich man who has claimed he has kept all the commandments: “If you will to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor... and come follow me” — ει θέλεις τέλειος είναι, υπάγε πώλησαν σου τα υπάρχοντα και δός τοις — πτωχοις; και εξεις θησαυρόν εν ούρανοις; καί δευρο ακολουθεί μοι. It was not St. Antony who established the precedent. Rather it was St. Antony who heard the word of our Lord and put it into action, who “did the word of the Lord.” It is Christ, the God-Man who has put forth the ideal of perfection, who has commanded us to be perfect (see also 5:48), who has put forth the ideal of poverty as a starting-point for a certain form of spiritual life. Elsewhere in the Gospel of St. Matthew (13:44) Christ makes a similar point, asserting that one sells everything in exchange for the kingdom of heaven. "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field” — όμοια εστίν ή βασιλεία των ουρανών θησαυρώ κεκρυμμένω εν τω άγρω, υν εύρων άνθρωπος έκρυφεν, και από της χαράς αυτού υπάγει καί πωλεί πάντα όσα έχει καί αγοράζει τον άγρόν εκείνον.

All Christianity exalts humility. It should therefore not be a surprise if monastic and ascetical spirituality focus on humility. In the Gospel of St. Matthew (18:4) our Lord proclaims that "he who therefore will humble himself as this little child, he is greatest in the kingdom of heaven” — όστις oυv ταπεινώσει έαντόν ως το παιδίον τούτο, ούτος εστίν ό μείζων εν τη βασιλεία των ουρανών. Elsewhere (23:12) our Lord says that “whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted” — όστις δε υψώσει έαυτόν ταπεινωθήσεται, και όστις ταπεινώσει έαντόν υφωθήσεται. The emphasis on humility may appear self-evident. Behind it, however, lies a reality of the nature of God to which few pay much attention. In the Incarnation two very core elements of any spirituality are clearly evidenced — the love and humility of God. The idea that humility is rooted in God may appear astonishing. The humility of God cannot, of course, be considered in the same light as ascetical humility, or any human form of humility. However, the human forms of humility are derived from the very nature of God, just as the commandment to love is rooted in God's love for mankind. God's humility is precisely that being God he desires, he wills to be in communion with everything and everything is inferior to God. This has great theological significance, for it reveals the value of all created things, a value willed by God. There is even a parallel here with the saints who loved animals and flowers. And from this idea, an idea intrinsically derived from the Incarnation and kenosis of God the Son, one can clearly see the real Divine origin in action of Christ's teaching about "others." In the very notion of a vertical spirituality a concern for others is presupposed. And while one is ascending to God — an abomination for Nygren — his fellow man must be included in the dimensions of spirituality. Through the Incarnation all forms of human existence are sanctified. Through the Incarnation both the love and the humility of God are made known. And man is to love God and fellow mankind because love contains absolute, positive value, a value derived because love is the very nature of God. And man is to experience humility, to become inflamed by humility precisely because humility belongs also to God and hence its value is derived from God. But to become filled innerly with love and humility is not easy. It demands not a mere acknowledgement of the fact that God is love and humility is Divine. Rather, it demands the complete purification of our inner nature by God. And this is the struggle, the spiritual warfare that must be waged to enter and maintain the reality of love and humility. The path of monasticism and asceticism is an authentic path, a path also ordained by our Lord.

The writings by or attributed to St. Paul form a critical point in the entire great divide between the churches of the Reformation and the Orthodox and Roman Catholic Church. The Epistle to the Romans is one of the most important references of this controversy. This epistle and the Epistle to the Galatians formed the base from which Luther developed his doctrine of faith and justification, a doctrine that he himself characterized in his preface to his Latin writings as a totally new understanding of Scripture. These two works continue to be the main reference points for contemporary theologians from the tradition of the Reformation. It was from this new understanding of the Scriptures that the rejection of monasticism obtained in the Reformation. In general it is not an exaggeration to claim that this thought considers St. Paul as the only one who understood the Christian message. Moreover, it is not St. Paul by himself nor St. Paul from the entire corpus of his works, but rather Luther's understanding of St. Paul. From this perspective the authentic interpreters of our Lord's teaching and redemptive work are St. Paul, as understood by Luther; then Marcion, then St. Augustine, and then Luther. Marcion was condemned by the entire early Church. St. Augustine indeed does anticipate Luther in certain views but not at all on the doctrine of justification and Luther's specific understanding of faith. It is more St. Augustine's doctrine of predestination, irresistible grace, and his doctrine of the total depravity of man contained in his "novel" — to quote St. Vincent of Lerins — doctrine of original sin that influenced Luther, who himself was an Augustinian monk.

The rejection of monasticism ultimately followed from the emphasis placed upon salvation as a free gift of God. Such a position is completely accurate but its specific understanding was entirely contrary to that of the early Church. That salvation was the free gift of God and that man was justified by faith was never a problem for early Christianity. But from Luther's perspective and emphasis any type of "works," especially that of the monks in their ascetical struggle, was considered to contradict the free nature of grace and the free gift of salvation. If one was indeed justified by faith, then — so went the line of Luther's thought — man is not justified by "works." For Luther "justification by faith" meant an extrinsic justification, a justification totally independent from any inner change within the depths of the spiritual life of a person. For Luther “to justify” — δικαιουν — meant to declare one righteous or just, not “to make” righteous or just — it is an appeal to an extrinsic justice which in reality is a spiritual fiction. Luther has created a legalism far more serious than the legalism he detected in the Roman Catholic thought and practice of his time. Morever, Luther's legalistic doctrine of extrinsic justification is spiritually serious, for it is a legal transaction which in reality does not and can not exist. Nowhere was the emphasis on "works" so strong, thought Luther, as in monasticism. Hence, monasticism had to be rejected and rejected it was. But Luther read too much into St. Paul's emphasis on faith, on justification by faith, and on the free gift of the grace of salvation. St. Paul is directly in controversy with Judaism, especially in his Epistle to the Romans. It is the "works of the law," the law as defined by and interpreted by and practiced by Judaism in the time of St. Paul. Our Lord has the same reaction to the externalization and mechanical understanding of the "law." Indeed, the very text of the Epistle to the Romans reveals in every passage that St. Paul is comparing the external law of Judaism with the newness of the spiritual understanding of the law, with the newness of the revelation of God in Jesus Christ through the Incarnation, Death, and Resurrection of our Lord. God has become Man. God has entered human history and indeed the newness is radical. But to misunderstand St. Paul's critique of "works," to think that St. Paul is speaking of the "works" commanded by our Lord rather than the Judaic understanding of the works of the "law" is a misreading of a fundamental nature. It is true, however, that Luther had a point in considering the specific direction in which the Roman Catholic merit-system had gone as a reference point similar to the Judaic legal system. As a result of Luther's background, as a result of his theological milieu, whenever he read anything in St. Paul about "works," he immediately thought of his own experience as a monk and the system of merit and indulgences in which he had been raised.

It must be strongly emphasized that Luther does indeed protect one aspect of salvation, the very cause and source of redemption and grace. But he neglects the other side, the aspect of man's participation in this free gift of Divine initiative and grace. Luther fears any resurgence of the Roman Catholic system of merit and indulgences, he fears any tendency which will constitute a truly Pelagian attitude, any tendency that will allow man to believe that he — man — is the cause, the source, or the main spring of salvation. And here Luther is correct. Nygren's Agape-Eros distinction is correct in this context, for any spirituality that omits Agape and concentrates only on Eros, on man's striving to win God's influence, is fundamentally non-Christian. But the issue is not that simple. Both extremes are false. God has freely willed a synergistic path of redemption in which man must spiritually participate. God is the actor, the cause, the initiator, the one who completes all redemptive activity. But man is the one who must spiritually respond to the free gift of grace. And in this response there is an authentic place for the spiritually of monasticism and asceticism, one which has absolutely nothing to do his the "works of the law," or with the system of merit and indulgences.

In his Epistle to the Romans St. Paul writes in the very introduction (1:4-5) that through Jesus Christ "we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith for the sake of his name” — δι ου έλάβομεν χάριν και αποστολήν ύπακοήν πίστεως... υπέρ του ονόματος αυτόυ. The notion of “obedience of faith” has a meaning for St. Paul. It is much more than a simple acknowledgement or recognition of a faith placed within one by God. Rather, it is a richly spiritual notion, one that contains within it a full spirituality of activity on the part of man — not that the activity will win the grace of God but precisely that the spiritual activity is the response to the grace of God, performed with the grace of God, in order to be filled by the grace of God. And it will be an on-going spiritual "work," one which can never be slackened, and one totally foreign from the "works" of the Judaic law.

St. Paul writes (2:6) that God “will render to each according to his works” — ος αποδώσει έκάστω κατά τα έργα αυτού. If St. Paul was so concerned about the word “works,” if he feared that the Christian readers of his letter might interpret “works” in some totally different way from what he intended, he certainly could have been more cautious. But St. Paul clearly distinguishes between the "works" of the Judaic law and the "works" of the Holy Spirit required of all Christians. Hence, it is difficult to confuse these two perspectives and it is significant that the early Church never confused them, for they understood what St. Paul wrote. If anything — despite the lucidity of St. Paul's thought — there were tendencies at times to fall not into Luther's one-sided interpretation but rather to fall somewhat spontaneously into an Eros-type of striving.

It is the “doers of the law” who will be justified” — οι ποιηται νόμου δικαιωθήσονται (2:13). The notion of “doers” implies action, activity. Elsewhere in the same epistle (5:2) St. Paul writes that through our Lord Jesus Christ “we have had access [by faith] into this grace in which we stand” — την προσαγωγήν έσχήκαμεν (τη πίστει) εις την χάριν ταύτην εν η έστήκαμεν. The very idea of “access into grace” — προσαγωγήν εις την χάριν — is dynamic and implies spiritual activity on the part of mankind.

After the lengthy proclamation of the grace of God, the impotence of the "works of the law" in comparison with the "works" of the new reality of the Spirit, St. Paul resorts to the traditional spiritual exhortation (6:12f). “Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body in order to obey its lusts. Nor yield your members to sin as weapons of unrighteousness” — μη ουν βασιλευέτω ή αμαρτία εν τω θνητω υμών σώματι εις το υπακούειν ταις επιθυμίας αυτού, μηδέ παριστάυετε τα μέλη υμών οπλα αδικίας τη αμαρτία. The exhortation presupposes that man has some type of spiritual activity and control over his inner existence. The very use of the word “weapon” invokes the idea of battle, of spiritual warfare, the very nature of the monastic "ordeal."

In the same chapter (6:17) St. Paul writes: “But grace to God that you who were slaves of sin obeyed out of the heart a form of teaching which was delivered to you” — χαρις δε τω θεώ οτι ήτε δούλοι της αμαρτίας υπηκούσατε δε εκ καρδίας εις ον παρεδόθητε τύπον διδαχής. In the second chapter of the Epistle to the Romans (2:15) St. Paul writes about the universal aspect of the "law" that is "written in the hearts" of mankind, a thought with profound theological implications — οιτινες ενδείκνυνται το έργον του νόμου γραπτόν εν ταις καρδίαις αυτών. In using the image of the “heart,” St. Paul is emphasizing the deepest aspect of the interior life of mankind, for such was the use of the image of the “heart” among Hebrews. When he writes that they obeyed "out of the heart," St. Paul is attributing some type of spiritual activity to the "obedience" which springs from the "heart." And to what have they become obedient? To a form or standard of teaching or doctrine delivered to them — this is precisely the apostolic deposit, the body of early Christian teaching to which they have responded and have become obedient. And in so doing, they have become "enslaved to righteousness," the righteousness of the new law, of the life of the Spirit — έλευθερωθέντες δε από της αμαρτίας έδουλωθητε τη δικαιοσύνη (6:18). And the “fruit” of becoming “enslaved to God” is precisely sanctification which leads to life eternal — δουλωθέντες δε τω θεώ, έχετε τον καρπόν υμών εις άγιασμόν, το δε τέλος ζωήν αίωνιον (6:22). Throughout is a process, throughout is a dynamic spiritual activity on the part of man. St. Paul becomes more explicit about the distinction between the old and the new law (7:6). “But now we are discharged from the law, having died in that which held us captive, so as to serve in in newness of spirit and not in oldness of letter” — νυνί δε κατηργήθημεν από του νόμου, άποθανόντες εν ω κατειχόμεθα, ώστε δουλεύειν εν καινότητι πνεύματος και ου παλαιότητι γράμματος.

St. Paul writes that we "are children of God, and if children, also heirs, heirs on the one hand of God, co-heirs on the other hand, of Christ" (8:17). But all this has a condition, has a proviso, for there is the all important “if indeed” — ειπερ. “If we co-suffer in order that we may be glorified” — έσμέν τέκνα θεού. ει δε τέκνα, και κληρονόμοι, κληρονόμοι μεν θεού, συγκληρονόμοι δε Χρίστου, ειπερ συμπάσχομεν ίνα και συνδοξασθώμεν. Our glorification, according to St. Paul, is contingent upon a mighty "if and that "if leads us to the spiritual reality, the spiritual reality of “co-suffering.” The very use of the word “co-suffer” — συμπάσχομεν — presupposes the reality of the idea of “co-suffering” and both presuppose an active, dynamic spiritual action or activity on the part of the one who co-suffers, else there is no meaning to the "co."

In the Epistle to the Romans (12:1) St. Paul uses language that would be meaningless if man were merely a passive object in the redemptive process, if justification by faith was an action that took place only on the Divine level. "I appeal to you therefore, brethren, through the compassions of God, to present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy and well-pleasing to God, which is your reasonable service” — παρακαλώ ουν υμάς, αδελφοί, δια των οίκτιρμών τον θεού, παραστήσαι τα σώματα υμών θυσίαν ζώσαν άγιαν ευαρεστον τω θεώ, την λογικήν λατρείαν υμών. St. Paul is asking the Christian to present, a reality which presupposes and requires human activity. But not only "to present" but "to present" the body as a living sacrifice, as holy, and as acceptable or well-pleasing to God. And this St. Paul considers our "reasonable service" or our "spiritual worship." The language and the idea speak for themselves. Using the imperative, St. Paul commands us: "Be not conformed to this age but be transformed by the renewing of the mind in order to prove [that you may prove] what [is] that good and well-pleasing and perfect will of God” — και μη συσχηματίζεσθε τω αιώνι τούτω, άλλα μεταμορφουσθε τη ανακοινώσει του νοός, εις το δοκιμάζειν υμάς τι το θέλημα του θεού, το αγαθόν και εύάρεστον και τέλειον. Taken by itself and out of context this language could be misinterpreted as Pelagian, for here it is man who is transforming the mind, man who is commanded to activate the spiritual life. Such an interpretation is, of course, incorrect but it reveals what one can do to the totality of the theological thought of St. Paul if one does not understand the balance, if one does not understand that his view is profoundly synergistic. Synergism does not mean that two energies are equal. Rather it means that there are two wills — one, the will of God which precedes, accompanies, and completes all that is good, positive, spiritual and redemptive, one that has willed that man have a spiritual will, a spiritual participation in the redemptive process; the other is the will of man which must respond, cooperate, “co-suffer.” In 12:9 St. Paul exhorts us to “cleave to the good” — κολλώμενοι τω άγαθω — and in 12:12 he exhorts us “to be steadfastly continuing in prayer — τη προσευχη προσκαρτερουντες. Such a position certainly does not exclude monastic and ascetical spirituality but rather presupposes it.

Celibacy is a part of the monastic life and it too has its source in the teachings of the New Testament. In I Corinthians 7:1-11 St. Paul encourages both marriage and celibacy — both are forms of Christian spirituality, and St. Paul has much to say about marriage in his other epistles. But his point is that celibacy is a form of spirituality for some, and it therefore cannot be excluded from the forms of spirituality within the Church. In verse 7 St. Paul writes that he would like all to be like him — θέλω δε πάντας ανθρώπους ειναι ώς και έμαντόν. But he realizes that each person has his own gift from God — αλλά έκαστος ίδιον έχει χάρισμα εκ θεου, ό μεν ουτως, ό δε όυτως. “I say therefore to the unmarried men and to the widows, it is good for them if they remain as I. But if they do not exercise self-control, let them marry” — λέγω δε τοις — άγαμοις και ταις χήραις, καλόν αυτοίς εάν μείνωσιν ώς κάγώ, ει δε ουκ έγκρατεύονται, γαμησάτωσαν. In verses 37-38 St. Paul summarizes: "the one who has decided in his own heart to keep himself virgin, he will do well. So, therefore, both the one marrying his betrothed [virgin], does well, and the one not marrying will do better” — και τούτο κέκρικεν εν τη ιδία καρδία, τηρειν την εαυτόν παρθένον, καλώς ποιήσει, ώστε και ό γαμίζων την εαυτόν παρθένον καλώς ποιεί, και ό μη γαμιζων κρεισσον ποιήσει. The monastic practice of celibacy is precisely not excluded by the New Testament. Rather, it is even encouraged both by our Lord and by St. Paul — and without jeopardy to the married state. The decision cannot be forced. Rather, it must come from the heart. And, indeed, it is not for everyone.

The comparison of the spiritual life to that of running a race and to that of warfare is throughout the New Testament. Without diminishing his basis of theological vision — that it is God who initiates everything — St. Paul writes in I Corinthians 9:24-27 in a manner, which, if taken by itself, would indeed appear Pelagian, would indeed appear as though all the essence of salvation depends upon man. But in the total context of his theology there is no contradiction, for there are always two wills in the process of redemption — the Divine, which initiates; and the human, which responds and is, in the very response active in that grace which it has received. "Do you not know that the ones running in a race all run indeed. But one receives the prize? So run in order that you may obtain. And everyone struggling exercises self-control in all things. Indeed, those do so therefore in order that they may receive a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible one. I, therefore, so run as not unclearly. Thus I box not as one beating the air. But I treat severely my body and lead it as a slave, lest having proclaimed to others, I myself may become disqualified." In this text we encounter the race — the spiritual race — and the prize; we encounter the grammatical and the thought structure of "in order that you may obtain," a structure which implies contingency and not certainty. We encounter the race as a spiritual struggle in which "self-control in everything" must be exercised. And then St. Paul describes his own spiritual battle — he treats his body severely, leads it as though it were a slave, and to what end? So that he will not become disapproved. The entire passage is very monastic and ascetic in its content. Despite St. Paul's certainty of the objective reality of redemption which has come through Christ as a Divine gift, he does not consider his own spiritual destiny to be included in that objective redemption which is now here unless he participates in it — and until the end of the race. In 10:12 he warns us: “Let the one who thinks he stands, let him look lest he falls” — ώστε ό δοκών έστάναι βλεπέτω μη πέση. In 11:28 he writes: “Let a man prove or examine himself...” — δοκιμαζέτω δε άνθρωπος έαντόν. In the latter context the “proving” or “examining” is in the most serious of contexts, for it is spoken in connection with the Holy Eucharist, which is spoken of so objectively that if one "eats this bread" or "drinks this cup" "of the Lord" "unworthily," that person "shall be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord" and shall "bring damnation to himself — for that reason, continues St. Paul, some are weak, sickly, and some have died. But our focus here is on self-examination, on those who think they stand. This again is an integral aspect of the monastic and ascetical life; that is, a constant examination of one's spiritual life. In II Corinthians 13:5 St. Paul again stresses self-examination: “Examine yourselves, if you are in the faith. Prove yourselves” — εαυτούς πειράζετε ει έστέ εν τη πίστει, εαυτούς δοκιμάστε.

In 15:1-2 St. Paul introduces a significant "if and "also." "I make known to you, brothers, the Gospel which I preached to you, which you also received, in which you also stand, through which you also are saved, “you hold fast to that which I preached to you” — γνωρίζω δε ύμιν, αδελφοί, το εύαγγέλιον ο εύηγγελισάμην ύμιν, ο και παραλάβετε, εν ω και έστήκατε, δι ου και σώζεσθε, τίνι λόγω εύηγγελισάμην ύμιν ει κατέχετε.

In I Corinthians 14:15 St. Paul speaks of praying with both spirit and mind, a thought that weaves its way through monastic and ascetical literature. The use of the mind in prayer finds its fullest expression in the controversial use of the "mind" in the thought of Evagrius Ponticus. The text, even within its general context in the chapter, is clear. "I will pray with the spirit, and I will pray also with the mind; I will sing with the spirit, and I will also sing with the mind” — προσεύχομαι τω πνεύματι, προσεύχομαι δε και τω voι, ψάλω τω πνεύματι, ψάλω δε και τω voι.

St. Paul's hymn to love, to Agape, fills the entirety of I Corinthians 13. Despite later interpretations of the use of the word "faith" in this chapter, specifically the interpretations that entered Christian thought with the Reformation, there was no misunderstanding of this "hymn to love" in the early Church — indeed, in the history of Christian thought until the Reformation it was understand quite directly. It is only through a convoluted exegetical method imposed by a specific — and new — theological understanding that this great "hymn to love" had to be understood by distinguishing different meanings attached to the word "faith." Though one speaks with the tongues of men and of angels, though one has the gift of prophecy, though one understands all mysteries, though one understands all knowledge, though one has all faith "to remove mountains," though one bestows all one's goods to feed the poor, though one gives one's body to be burned — though one has all this, but not love, one is "nothing," one "becomes as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal," one "profits" not at all. St. Paul is quite explicit on what love is. "Love suffers long, love is kind, love is not jealous, does not vaunt itself, is not puffed up, does not act unseemly, does not seek its own things, is not provoked, does not reckon evil, does not rejoice over wrong, but rejoices with the truth. Love covers all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never falls. But prophecies — they will be abolished; tongues — they will cease; knowledge — it will be abolished... And now remains faith, hope, love, these three. But the greatest of these is love." The goal of monastic and ascetical struggle, of the "ordeal," is love — to love God, to love mankind, to love all created things, to be penetrated by God's love, to participate in love, which is God and flows from God, and to enter a union with God, with love. Often monastic literature will speak of "achieving" this love, as though it is the work of man. But that it not the total context of love in monastic literature, not even in those texts which appear as though everything were nothing but a striving on the part of man in the "ordeal." This language is spoken because it is spontaneous with spiritual nature. This language is spoken because it runs parallel with that assumed knowledge — that God is the source of everything. And yet St. Paul himself often uses language which could come directly from monastic statements. True, both would be taken out of their total context, but it is true that the two languages are spoken — the language referring to God as the source, as the initiator, to the grace of God, to the gift of all spirituality; and the language which concentrates on man's activity, on man's response to the love and redemptive work of God in Jesus Christ and through the Holy Spirit. When one line of thought is being used, it in no way denies the other line of thought. Rather, it is precisely the opposite, for monastic and ascetical literature can only speak about man's activity if it is presupposed that God has accomplished the redemptive activity in and through our Lord, that God is working in man through the Holy Spirit. Else, all that is written is without meaning, temporarily and ultimately. St. Paul's command in I Corinthians 14:1 to "pursue love and eagerly desire the spiritual things" is responded to directly by monastic and ascetical spirituality — διώκετε την άγάπην, ζηλουτε δε τα πνευματικά

In II Corinthians 2:9 St. Paul writes in the very same spirit that an abbot might employ with his novices: "For to this end indeed I wrote — in order that I might know your proof, if you are obedient in all things” — εις τούτο γαρ και έγραφα, ίνα γνω την δοκιμήν υμών, ει εις πάντα υπήκοοι έστε. Obedience is an important theme and reality in the monastic and ascetic “ordeal” and that very theme of obedience is mentioned often throughout the New Testament.

Monastic and ascetical literature will often use the terms "fragrance" and "aroma" and again the source is the New Testament. In II Corinthians 2:14-15 St. Paul writes: "manifesting through us the fragrance of his knowledge in every place. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those perishing, to the latter an aroma from death unto death, to the former an aroma from life unto life."

In II Corinthians 3:18 St. Paul uses an expression which is often found in ascetical literature — "from glory to glory." "But we all, with face having been unveiled, beholding in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being changed into the same icon from glory to glory, even as from the Spirit of the Lord." The Greek verbal structure throughout the New Testament cannot be stressed enough, for it conveys a dynamic activity that is seldom found in other languages and in translations. In this text the emphasis is on the process of "we are being changed." Elsewhere emphasis is often on "we are being saved" — rather than "we are changed" and "we are saved." When the objective nature of redemption is the focus, then the Greek verbal structure uses "we are saved." But mainly, when the process is the focus, the dynamism is expressed by the verbal structure of "we are being saved." In this text it is significant that the objective nature is expressed by "having been unveiled," while the on-going process of our participation in the spiritual process of salvation is expressed by "we are being changed." Here is expressed the dynamism of synergy.

In II Corinthians 4:16 St. Paul again emphasizes the dynamism and process of the spiritual reality in man. “Our inner [life] is being renewed day by day” — ό έσω ημών άνακαινουται ήμερα και ήμερα. The monastic life attempts to respond to such a text by the daily regulation of prayer, meditation, self-examination, and worship — precisely to attempt to "renew" daily "our inner" spiritual life. In 10:15 the dynamic aspect of growth is stressed and precisely in reference to "faith" and "rule." "But having hope as your faith is growing to be magnified unto abundance among you according to our rule” — ελπίδα δε έχοντες αυξανομένης της πίστεως υμών εν ύμιν μεγαλυνθηναι κατά τον κανόνα ημών εις περισσείαν. In 4:12 St. Paul again places the inner depth of man's spiritual life in the “heart,” something which Eastern monasticism will develop even in its life of prayer — εν καρδία.

The entire fifth chapter of II Corinthians is an exceptionally important text. Here, as elsewhere, St. Paul uses language which, when used by others, distresses sorely many scholars working from the Reformation perspective — he uses the notion of "pleasing God," something which some scholars find indicative of man's solicitation to "win" God's favor. But when St. Paul uses such language it passes in silence, it passes without objection — precisely because St. Paul has established his position that God is the source of everything. But monastic and ascetical literature also presuppose that God initiates and is the source of everything. But it is in the very nature of daily spiritual life in monasticism and in ascetical spirituality to focus on man's activity. It is precisely focus, not a theological position. "We therefore are ambitious [to make it our goal], whether being at home or being away from home, to be well-pleasing to him. For it is necessary for all of us to be manifested before the tribunal of Christ in order that each one may receive something good or something worthless, according to what one has practiced through the body. Knowing, therefore, the fear of the Lord, we persuade men. "In II Corinthians 11:15 St. Paul writes that one's “end will be according to [one's] works” — ων το τέλος έσται κατά τα έργα αυτών. Also this is not the only time that the New Testament uses the word “practice,” a word which becomes systematized in monasticism. After a profound exposition on the initiative of God in the redemptive work of Christ (5:14-20), in which St. Paul writes that “all things are of God, who, having reconciled us to himself through Christ” — τα δε πάντα εκ του θεον τον καταλλάξαντος ημάς έαυτω δια Χριστον, St. Paul writes in verse 21: “Be reconciled to God” — καταλλάγητε τω θεώ. Moreover, he not only uses the imperative form but also precedes this with “we beg on behalf of Christ” — δεόμεθα υπέρ Χρίστου. His language here becomes meaningless unless there is spiritual activity on the part of man. And what is more, St. Paul uses a very interesting structure in relationship to the "righteousness of God," for he writes that the redemptive work of Christ was accomplished "in order that we might become the righteousness of God in him” — ίνα ημείς γενώμεθα δικαιοσύνη θεου εν αντω. Here the significance is on “we might become” rather than “we are” or “we have become.” Implicit is a synergistic dynamism. This is further stressed in 6:1:”And working together [with him] we entreat you not to receive the grace of God to no purpose” — συνεργονντες δε και παρακαλουμεν μη είς κενόν την χάριν του θεου δέξασθαι υμάς: And St. Paul then quotes from Isaiah 49:8 in which it is said that God “hears” and “helps” — έπήκουσά σου και... έβοήθησά σοι.

In II Corinthians 6:4-10 St. Paul writes what could be a guide to monastic spiritual life. "In everything commending ourselves as ministers of God — in much endurance, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses, in stripes, in prisons, in tumults, in labors, in vigils, in fasting, in purity, in knowledge, in long-suffering, in kindness, in a holy spirit, in unfeigned love, in a word of truth, in power of God — through the weapons of righteousness on the right and left hand, through glory and dishonor, through evil report and good report... as dying, and behold, we live... as being grieved but always rejoicing, as poor but enrichening many, as having nothing yet possessing all things." The vigils, the fasting, the purity, the gnosis or knowledge — these are to be reflected in monastic and ascetical life. Moreover, St. Paul again uses the image of warfare and refers to the "weapons of righteousness." The language used by St. Paul in this passage can only have significance if man participates synergistically in the redemptive process. If the doctrine of "righteousness" in the thought of St. Paul has only a one-sided meaning — that is, the "righteousness of God," which is, of course, the source of all righteousness — then why the talk of "weapons of righteousness" placed in the very hands, both right and left, of man? If man is solely "reckoned righteous" by the "vicarious sacrifice" of our Lord Jesus Christ, why the need to speak of "weapons of righteousness," unless there is a second aspect of the redemptive process which ontologically includes man's spiritual participation? In II Corinthians 10:3-6 St. Paul continues with the reference to "warfare" and again stresses "obedience." "For though walking in the flesh, we wage war not according to the flesh, for the weapons of our warfare are not fleshly but [have] the power of God to overthrow strongholds, overthrowing reasonings and every high thing rising up against the knowledge of God and taking captive every design unto the obedience of Christ." St. Paul writes in II Corinthians 7:1 about cleansing, about "perfecting holiness," and about the "fear of God." After referring to our having "these promises," he exhorts: "Let us cleanse ourselves from all defilement of flesh and of spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God” — καθαρίσωμεν εαυτόυς από παντός μολυσμου σαρκός και πνεύματος, έπιτελουντες άγιωσύνην εν φόβω θεού. This exhortation is precisely what monastic and ascetical life attempts to implement. In 13:9 St. Paul writes: “We pray also for you restoration” — τούτο και εύχόμεθα, την υμών κατάρτισιν. In order for one to be “restored,” one would have to have been at a certain level previously. The text bears witness to the dynamic nature of faith, of spiritual life in Christ, of the rising and falling away, and then the restoration.

In II Corinthians 7:10 St. Paul speaks in terms quite similar to those found in monastic and ascetical literature, for he speaks of "grief which works "repentance" which leads to "salvation." "For grief, in accordance with God, works repentance unto unregrettable salvation” — ή γαρ κατά θεόν λύπη μετάνοιαν εις σωτηρίαν άμεταμέλητον εργάζεται. St. Paul contrasts this “Godly grief with the “grief of the world which works out death” — ή δε τον κόσμου λύπη θάνατον κατεργάζεται. The theme of “sorrow” and “grief over one's sin — precisely “grief in accordance with God” or “Godly grief — is a constant in monastic spiritual life.

St. Paul ends the text proper of II Corinthians with a final exhortation. "Restore yourselves, admonish yourselves, think the same, become at peace, and the God of love and of peace will be with you” — καταρτιζεσθε, παρακαλείσθε, το αυτό φρονείτε, ειρηνεύετε, και ό θεός της αγάπης και ειρήνης έσται μεθ' υμών. Here the emphasis is again on "restoration." St. Paul's sequence of language — if taken by itself and out of context — could be easily misinterpreted as man causing God's action, for he writes "become at peace and." It is precisely that "and" that introduces the activity of God. God "will be with you," if you achieve peace — this is how this text could well be interpreted if we did not possess the body of St. Paul's works. What could have happened to the thought of St. Paul is what usually happens to the thought expressed in monastic and ascetical literature.

Along with the Epistle to the Romans, St. Paul's Epistle to the Galatians is the other work from the corpus of St. Paul most often quoted by the theologians of the Lutheran and Calvinistic Reformation and those theologians who have followed in those theological traditions. They were also the two works most quoted by St. Augustine to support his doctrine of irresistible grace and predestination. But one encounters the same problem in Galatians — that is, that there is a second line of thought which, by itself, could be interpreted in a Pelagian sense. The point here is, of course, that both views are one-sided, that the thought of St. Paul is far richer than any one-sided interpretation allows for, far more realistic both with the glory of God and with the tragedy of man's experience in evil, corruption, and death. But St. Paul not only extols the glory of God, the power and initiative of grace but also the joyfulness of an objective redemption in which each person must participate in order for the redemption of man to be completed.

In the first chapter of Galatians St. Paul in verse 10 uses language which implies the seeking of favor with God. “For now do I persuade men or God? Or do I seek to please men?” — αρτι γαρ ανθρώπους πείθω ή τον θεόν; ή ζητώ άνθρωποις άρέσκειν? At one point, in Galatians 4:9, St. Paul catches himself falling into the very understandable usage of human language: “But now knowing God, or rather, being known by God” — νυν δε γνόντες θεόν, μάλλον δε γνωσθεντες υπό θεού. Imprecision of language occurs even with St. Paul.

The second chapter of Galatians provides an illumination of the central controversial issue in the theology of St. Paul. In context St. Paul is addressing the hypocrisy of St. Peter in Antioch, for St. Peter ate with the Gentiles until those from the "circumcision" party arrived from Jerusalem. At that time St. Peter withdrew from the Gentiles, “fearing those of the circumcision” — φοβούμενος τους έκπεριτομής. St. Paul challenges St. Peter face to face. Again the whole controversy is between the "works of the law" and the "works of the Spirit," between the laws of Judaism and the spiritual laws of Christ as a direct result of his Divine redemptive work. It is, therefore, in this context that St. Paul brings the doctrine of justification into discussion. In verse. 16 St. Paul writes: "And knowing that a man is not justified out of works of the law but through faith of Christ Jesus, even we believed in Christ Jesus in order that we might be justified out of faith of Christ and not out of the works of the law because out of works of the law all flesh will not be justified” — είδότες δε οτι ου δικαιούται άνθρωπος έξ έργων νόμου εάν μη δια πίστεως Χριστου Ιησού, και ημείς εις Χριστόν Ιήσουν έπιστεύσαμεν, ίνα δικαιωθωμεν εκ πίστεως Χρίστου και ουκ έξ έργων νόμου, οτι έξ εργων νόμου ου δικαιωθήσεται πάσα σάρξ. In the Greek construction used by St. Paul a dynamism still exists, for we believed “in order that we might be justified” and “out of faith." This latter expression contains breadth, expansion of spiritual life generating from faith. It is a rich expression and its fullness and dynamism must not be diminished by a reductionist interpretation. And the very use of "in order" has implications theologically, as does the construction "that we might be justified." St. Paul could very well have written that we have believed and are hence justified. But that is not what he has written. The objective reality of redemption, the objective reality of mankind being justified by Christ is one thing. The subjective reality of each person participating in this already accomplished redemptive work of justification, of being really "right" with God is another dimension, a dimension which requires and addresses the entire spiritual composition of man. In the very next text St. Paul writes "if seeking to be justified in Christ" — ει δε ζητουντες δικαιωθηναι εν Χριστώ. In 5:5 he can write “for we in the Spirit eagerly expect the hope of righteousness” — ημείς γαρ πνεύματι εκ πίστεως ελπίδα δικαιοσύνης άπεκδεχόμεθα. What is the ontological meaning of “the hope of righteousness" if "righteousness" is "imputed" to us as though a legal transaction, and if it is the "passive righteousness" of God which "justifies" us? No, St. Paul's vision is far deeper. The "hope of righteousness" is precisely our hope to share in that objective "righteousness of God" which is now freely given by God in and through Christ. But we "hope" because there is "work" for us to do in order to take hold of and participate in that righteousness eternally. God creates in his freedom. God created man with this image of freedom. Christ accepts the Cross in freedom. Freedom is the foundation of creation and redemption. And man's freedom, however weakened, can still be inspired by the free gift of Grace. And in this freedom man must, as St. Paul writes in his Epistle to the Philippians 2:12, “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” — μετά φόβου και τρόμου την εαυτών σωτηρίαν κατεργάζεσθε. It cannot be denied that monastic and ascetical spirituality took this seriously. In Galatians 5:1 St. Paul writes that "Christ freed us for freedom. Therefore stand firm” — τη ελευθερία ημάς Χριστός ήλευθέρωσεν.

The total theological significance of all that took place in the coming of Christ, in the Incarnation of the God-Man, in his life, his teachings, his death, his resurrection, his establishment of the Church and the mystical sacramental life in the Church, his Ascension, his sending of the Holy Spirit, and his Second Coming and Judgment — all this has radically altered the old law of works, and the meaning was clear to the early Church. It is true that what St. Paul says about the "works of the law" can be applied to any form of Christianity that deviates from the precision of the balance, that deviates from the authentic "works of the Spirit," replacing them by a mechanical and mechanistic attitude. And in Galatians 3:27 St. Paul immediately connects "justification by faith" with the mystical sacrament of baptism. "For you are all sons of God through the faith in Christ Jesus, for as many of you as were baptized into Christ, have put on Christ” — παντες γαρ υιοί θεού έστε δια της πίστεως εν Χριστώ Ιησού — όσοι γαρ εις Χριστόν έβαπτίσθητε, Χριστόν ένεδυσασθε. Within this context what is the distinction between the “justification by faith” and “by faith” being “baptized into Christ," and, hence, having "put on Christ"?

St. Paul is addressing Christians, those who have been baptized, those who have accepted the faith. Despite all his language about "justification by faith," about "putting on Christ" through baptism, about the objective aspect of redemption having been accomplished, St. Paul still can write in Galatians 4:19 that he "travails in birth until Christ is formed” in them — ώδίνω μέχρις oυ μορφωθη Χριστός εν υμιν. What can this mean except that the redemptive process for man is one of struggle, one of rising and falling, one of continual spiritual dynamism? In 5:7 he writes that they "were running well” and asks “who hindered you?” — έτρεχετε καλώς, τις υμάς ένέκοψεν, invoking again the image of a race.

In Galations 5:14 St. Paul repeats Christ's commandment of love, a thought not foreign to St. Paul, especially when one considers his "Hymn to Love [Agape] in I Corinthians 13. “For the whole law has been summed up in one expression: you shall love your neighbor as yourself — ό γαρ πας νόμος εν ένί λόγω πεπλήρωται, εν τω αγαπήσεις τον πλησίον σον ώς σεαντόν. He then distinguishes the “works of the Spirit” from the “works of the flesh,” explicitly linking the latter with the old law. And then he again exhorts and commands from the realism of spiritual life (5:25). “If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit” — ει ζώμεν πνεύματι, πνεύματη και στοιχώμεν. What is the meaning of such an exhortation? It has a meaning based on realism only if the “living in the Spirit” refers to the entirety of the objective work of the redemptive work of Christ now accomplished and available to mankind, a redemption which surrounds them by the life of the Church in which they live but a redemption in which they must actively participate, in which they must "walk" if they are to obtain and receive the final work of redemption, the union of man and God in love, in goodness, in truth. The "walk" is an obvious expression of activity, of movement toward a goal. In Galatians 6:2 St. Paul links the commandment of love and the "walking " in the Spirit with "the law of Christ." "And thus you will fulfill the law of Christ” — real ούτως αναπληρώσετε τον νόμον του Χριστου. The very language of “the law of Christ” and the “fulfilling” of that law” is theologically significant, for “the law of Christ” refers to everything communicated to the Church through Christ. The monastic and ascetical life is precisely such an attempt to fulfill this "law of Christ." His concluding thought in Galatians is: “Peace and mercy upon those many who will walk by this rule” — και οσοι τω κανόνι τούτω στοιχήσουσιν, ειρήνη έπ' αυτούς και έλεος. The "new creation" about which St. Paul speaks is both an already accomplished redemptive reality and, for us as individuals with spiritual freedom, the “new creation” — καινή κτίσις — is a reality which must be “formed,” a reality which can come about only through process, when the subjective reality of each person is "formed" into the objective reality of the "new creation" wrought by our Lord Jesus Christ.

In Ephesians 1:14 St. Paul uses extremely interesting language in relationship to our "salvation" in Christ "in whom we believed and thereafter were sealed with the Holy Spirit “who is an earnest of our inheritance unto redemption of the possession” — ός εστίν άρραβών της κληρονομιάς ημών, εις άπολυτρωσιν της περιποιήσεως. The meaning here is clear: the seal of the Holy Spirit is the "deposit" toward an inheritance of which we take possession when we acquire it. It is a dynamic text. That possession of such an inheritance requires that we walk in "good works" in clear in Ephesians 2:10:"For we are a product of him, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God previously prepared in order that we might walk in them” — αυτόυ γαρ έσμεν ποίημα, κτισθέντες εν Χριστώ Ιησου έπη έργοις αγαθοίς, οις προητοίμασεν ό Θεος ίνα εν αυτοίς περιπατήσωμεν. In Ephesians 6:11 St. Paul again uses the image of warfare and of putting on the “whole armor of God” — ένδύσασθε την πανοπλίαν του θεου. The “walk” is evoked again in 5:8 and 5:15. “Walk as children of the light” — ως τέκνα φωτός περιπατείτε. “See, therefore, that you walk carefully” — βλέπετε oυν ακριβώς πώς περιπατείτε. In 5:9 he writes that “the fruit of the light [is] in all goodness and righteousness and truth” — ό γαρ καρπός του φωτός εν πάση αγαθωσυνη και δικαιοσύνη και άληθεία. It is the “walking in the light” that produces “the fruit” which is all goodness, righteousness and truth” and this is described as “proving what is well-pleasing to the Lord” — δοκιμάζοντες τι έστιν ευάρεστον.

In Ephesians 5:14 St. Paul quotes from what was probably a hymn of the early Church, a text which has the ring of a monastic motif to it. “Rise, sleeping one” — έγειρε, ό καθεύδων. And to what purpose ought one to rise? In 5:1 he commands us to “be therefore imitators of God” — γίνεσθε oυv μιμητοί τον θεον. In 4:23 St. Paul writes that we are “to be renewed in the spirit of your mind” — άνανεουσθαι δε τω πνεύματι τον νοός — and “to put on the new man” — και έδύσασθαι τον καινόν άνθρωπον. He begs us in 4:1 “to walk worthily of the calling with which you were called” — άξίως περίπατησαι της κλησεως ης έκλήθητε. In 4:15 he exhorts that “we may grow into him [Christ] in all respects” — αύξήσωμεν εις αυτόν τα πάντα. In 6:18 St. Paul stresses the importance of prayer. “By means of all prayer and petition, praying at every time” — δια πάσης προσευχής και δεησεως, προσ&#