A brother asked a hermit, ‘Suppose there are two monks: one stays quietly in his cell, fasting for six days at a time, laying many hardships on himself: and the other ministers to the sick. Which of them is more pleasing to God?’ He replied, ‘Even if the brother who fasts six days hung himself up by his nose, he wouldn’t be the equal of him who ministers to the sick.’
Ward, The Desert Fathers, pp. 180-181.
Talk to the average Orthodox Christian, and especially a recent convert, and you could be forgiven for thinking that ascetical struggle—that is, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving—is not just central to the Christian life but basically the whole of our life in Christ. In fact, a recent article on the uptick in converts to the Orthodox Church largely makes this point:
…many men welcome the challenge of the church’s strict regimen of prayer and fasting. Orthodox Christians are traditionally expected to limit their food intake and abstain to varying degrees from certain foods, including meat and fish, for about half the days of the year, though clergy typically advise new converts to adjust gradually to the discipline.1
The centrality of asceticism is likewise seen in monastic life as the touchstone of lay spirituality. While ascetical struggle is essential to our life in Christ, and as the article suggests, it is something we need to grow into slowly. Like any other skill, asceticism is something I only slowly learn to do.
But this raises a question, what is asceticism for? What is the purpose of our prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and manual labor? Here St. Seraphim of Sarov is helpful. The saint reminds us that
Prayer, fasting, vigil and all other Christian activities, however good they may be in themselves, do not constitute the aim of our Christian life, although they serve as the indispensable means of reaching this end. The true aim of our Christian life consists in the acquisition of the Holy Spirit of God.2
Welcome as this might be as a counterpoint to the unhealthy understanding we sometimes encounter, the acquisition of the Holy Spirit is not separated from doing good for our neighbor:
Scripture says: In every nation he who fears God and works righteousness is acceptable to Him (Acts 10:35). As we see from the sacred narrative, the man who works righteousness is so pleasing to God that the Angel of the Lord appeared at the hour of prayer to Cornelius, the Godfearing and righteous centurion, and said: ‘Send to Joppa to Simon the Tanner; there shalt thou find Peter and he will tell thee the words of eternal life, whereby thou shalt be saved and all thy house.’ Thus the Lord uses all His divine means to give such a man in return for his good works the opportunity not to lose his reward in the future life.
Prayer, fasting, almsgiving, good works, and (as the saint goes on to say) “a right faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, Who came into the world to save sinners,” are all one piece. And these are all one because they are all born from the waters of Holy Baptism, sealed with Holy Chrism, and nurtured and completed in Holy Communion.
This is the theological background to the hermit’s comment, “Even if the brother who fasts six days hung himself up by his nose, he wouldn’t be the equal of him who ministers to the sick.” The desert fathers remind us that practical and effective charity for our neighbor is the purpose of ascetical struggle.
But this isn’t the only thing we can see in the story about hanging by our noses.
The desert tradition also can serve as an antidote to the temptation to see our Christian life as a platform from which to pursue cultural or political objectives and projects. This is an especially important reminder because to return to the article from the Wall Street Journal,
Converts to Orthodoxy tend to be more conservative on social and moral issues, for instance in their opposition to same-sex marriage and the ordination of women, than those who were born in the church.
Borrowing from St. Seraphim, it may very well be that these other concerns are not only reasonable but morally good. Just laws and prudent public policy, are necessary for a free and virtuous society. Likewise, it is good and proper as Orthodox Christians in a democracy that we advocate for these things.
To the degree, however, that our social concerns are done in an abstract manner rather than within the context of a right faith in Jesus Christ and in a face-to-face relationship with my neighbor, they should be viewed with caution. It is one thing to oppose same-sex marriage, it is quite another to welcome a gay couple or help a husband and wife who are struggling in their marriage.
The Elder Zosima in The Brothers Karamazov recounts his conservation with a physician that summarizes the temptation to fast six days and hang by my nose, that is to turn the Gospel into a platform:
“The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular. In my dreams,” [the physician] said, “I have often come to making enthusiastic schemes for the service of humanity, and perhaps I might actually have faced crucifixion if it had been suddenly necessary; and yet I am incapable of living in the same room with anyone for two days together, as I know by experience. As soon as anyone is near me, his personality disturbs my self-complacency and restricts my freedom. In twenty-four hours I begin to hate the best of men: one because he's too long over his dinner; another because he has a cold and keeps on blowing his nose. I become hostile to people the moment they come close to me. But it has always happened that the more I detest men individually the more ardent becomes my love for humanity.”
The desert fathers challenge us not to love humanity but the person in front of us and to do so without concern for his or her social status or for whatever virtues or vices he or she might possess. We are, they tell us, not to “love humanity in general” but the man in front of us. Martyrdom for a scheme—no matter how well rooted in the Gospel—is not martyrdom for Christ.
None of this takes away from the moral goodness of these more abstract projects. But when they exist apart from ministering to my neighbor in need, they serve not Christ and the Gospel but my own ambition.
Asceticism, the worship of the Church, the sacraments, and all manner of good deeds, are all no better than “hanging by my nose,” if they are done simply for their own sake and not with faith in Jesus Christ, for the sake of Gospel, and love for the person in front of me.
But even when we succumb to a merely, abstract charity, however, we are not without hope. Again, as St. Seraphim says
…the acceptability to God of good deeds not done for Christ’s sake is limited to this: the Creator gives the means to make them living (cp. Heb. 6:1). It rests with man to make them living or not. That is why the Lord said to the Jews: If you had been blind, you would have no sin. But now you say, We see, and your sin remains on you (Jn. 9:41).
God longs to unite us to Himself even in those moments when we have lost sight of Him because our eyes are firmly fixed on ourselves.
Francis X. Rocca, “Eastern Orthodoxy Gains New Followers in America: Ancient faith is drawing converts with no ties to its historic lands,” Wall Street Journal, May 17, 2023.
St Seraphim of Sarov, “The Aim of Christian Life: A conversation between St Seraphim of Sarov and Nikolay Motovilov, https://www.themathesontrust.org/papers/christianity/Motovilov.pdf