Discourse 80

On the Vigil of the Nights: and on the Distinctions of the Types of Labors that are in it. And that it is not right for a person to think that his labors are for the filling of the stomach; but freely and with distinction, like the sons of God who serve with their father in the spirit of love. And how heavy is the labor of the vigil, more than all other practices. And concerning those who follow after this, who choose this labor, and how to proceed in it. And on the Benefits that are obtained from God: and on the Agonies that occur in opposition to them from the Curses of the World. P. What then do you wish, that you might stand for the service in your vigil: with the help of our Lord, do as I tell you. Set a limit as is customary: and stand. And after that, do not immediately begin your service. But when you have prayed and completed: and signed your heart and your members with the living sign: stand like a small child, when you are quiet. Until your senses are calmed, and your movements are stilled. And then raise your inner gaze towards our Lord: and fix it with passion: that your hope is from your weakness. And as the will of the one who is calm, let the words of your tongue and the movements of your heart be. And say quietly in the prayer of your heart thus: My Lord and my God: the Creator of creation: who reveals to him his passions and his weakness, that he may know you, and the strength of our enemy: you protect me from his evil.

of his own power is weak, and the vessels of the heart are pure, and the powers of the mind are strong. You, then, O blessed one who is content with the weak powers, and who is wearied by the toils of the pure virtues, guard yourself from the disturbance of thoughts and the heat of passions. And I entreat you for this holy service, that it not be ruined by the passions, nor its taste be spoiled, and that I may be found before you as a reveler. But rather, with pure thoughts and the clarity of the mind, I will stand before you, as is fitting for your holiness. That glory, which the chariot of the Seraphs cannot suffice for, at the edge of whose wings the burning ones sanctify and praise the sanctities of your essence in their bosoms. And at that time, your heart will be opened by grace, and you will shed tears at the beginning of your prayer. And your thoughts will rejoice in the remembrance of the Lord. And with haste and pure abstinence, your soul will be received. And when your mind is sad and pure, you will begin without hesitation in your service, and you will proceed in it peacefully to its completion. It is right, then, that we proceed in our service with complete freedom, apart from any guiding thought of childhood.

Know and see that the time is not long, and the light shines while not yet full. Abandon willfully, by knowledge, one and two of the habits contrary to custom. And let there be no place for doubt that might destroy the taste of the service. And also disturb the morning psalms, if you are serving. A thought may pain you and say: "Hasten a little; when will the work increase, and you will depart quickly? Do not delay in it." But if this oppresses you, turn at once, secretly, a few prostrations. And every word of the prayer that is lost in its intention, supply it with many prostrations. And if again it disturbs or oppresses you, cease the chanting, and place a blessing in prayer, and say: "I do not want the fullness of the mouth, but I want the arrival of the state. In every way that leads me quickly, in that I will go." That people who hastened quickly from the desert, forty years they walked while shining in the desert, ascending and descending mountains and heights, and to the land of promise, not even from afar did they see it. And if the standing overcomes you while you are watching because of its length, and you are given from weariness, a thought says to you: "Fill up, then, the craft that mocks at thought like a beast, that it may cease from now on, since there is no strength for standing." Say: "Not so.

But it is better and more excellent than the sixth. For even when there is no psalmody, he says: "Cease, then, from my mouth," while my mind is occupied with prayer and supplication to God; that vigil is more fragrant than the sixth. There is no rising of the moon at all, and no longer the coming of psalms alone, but there is: from the psalms the whole night is spent. There is one who bends the knees and prostrations and genuflections on the ground. And there is one with weeping and tears and lamentations over his sins. It is said concerning one of our fathers that the vigil of forty years was a single word of his prayer: "I have sinned as a human; You, then, forgive me as God." And the fathers and brothers used to hear him utter this word with emotion while weeping, and he would not cease. And instead of the service, this prayer alone was his, by night and by day. There is also one who, after a little of the evening psalmody, spends the rest of the night with supplications, praises, readings, and the rest of the chanted tones. And there is one who divides the hours of the night into watches, and from one watch to another makes a vigil and divides the reading until dawn. There is also one who sets a limit for himself: that he will not bend his knees to the ground.

nor even in the prayer of the conclusion of the psalmody, as is the custom of the watchers, but in a single span the whole night. It is also said concerning one of the saints, that because the demon of lust contended with him, and through one of his members he did not cease from him, he gave himself to the labor of vigil, and set a limit for himself: that his knees should not bend to the ground, but he would stand the whole night with his eyes open, and he would not place a knee until morning. All these distinctions are in the labor of vigil, and through these the valiant ones are released from that old serpent who is corrupted by the disturbances of his error, and they put on Christ and are redeemed. Through these, the subtle and profound labors of wisdom, the saints drink from that wonder of divine revelation, which is higher than the thought of the flesh. When, then, through these and in like manner, the distinguished ones are delighted in their vigils, the valiant ones pass the whole span of the long hours of the night without interruption, while their soul rejoices and is glad, and the flesh, which is bound by the bonds of the covering passions, goes astray. And from the delight and the purity of their heart, they do not remember the sixth hour, as if they think that they have cast off the body, and in that conduct after the resurrection they are from now.

And many times they leave the psalms and fall upon their faces from the joy that is in their hearts. And the whole length of the night is for them like the day, and the darkness like the light of the sun, because of the hope that raises their heart and fills them with its delight, and from the flame of their thoughts that burns in the remembrance of the good things that are prepared. And when the hour is fixedly determined, it strikes with the goad of the spirit; then he performs these things that are his. When he guides the meaning of the words, and when the subtle thought that penetrates outside presses in, and when what is cut off for him by wonder, he turns to the fullness of the reading of the day. And the remembrances that he adds from there, from his treasury, bring in these times of trembling, and he is comforted by them, so that the whole place is not for foreign thoughts. And again, boldly he brings that one to the meaning of prayer and psalmody, so that what he gains there, the spiritual benefit that is in them, is not hidden from him from the discourse with God and the light of contemplation, which he is accustomed to receive from that prayer which is without distraction, which alone by the modesty of the heart speaks with its Lord in the humility of its thoughts. And thus in these things they pass the whole time of their life.

each one of them is pleasing to his Lord by his labors, according to his measure and his strength, with the whole joy of desire. If, however, someone wishes to rest his body a little, he sits down facing the east. And while he is sitting, he does not let go of his thought, which is idle, but he meditates, reflects, and considers the greatness of this practice, and its likeness, and how great is his labor, and how great its crown, and how glorious the fruit of his labors, and what kind of vigilance follows, and how the ancients were transformed in it, and those who drank from the completion of their contests, and how Jesus Christ removed his struggle from the world, he who was to be occupied with vain labors whose end is separation from God and alienation from sins, and he brought this practice of the angels, whose hope is true hope, and whose joy is a joy over which sorrow has no power, and whose trust is a trust that cannot be deceived. For however much a person labors, his labors are small in comparison with those who at its end are destined to receive great blessings for the consolation of his soul.

And while he is in these thoughts and as he rejoices in his heart and marvels at them, then he guards the air by the chariot of the spirit and takes flight, as he shines forth with all the holy fathers of every place, those who have taken up the inheritance of their practices, as each one of them is completed in various distinct forms for this spiritual labor. And as they have abandoned peace and tranquility, and have removed themselves from the additions of the world and from disturbing life, and have gone and hidden themselves in mountains and caves and in remote and solitary places, because they saw that this practice cannot be completed among dwellings due to many disturbances, and they died in their lives because of the life in God, while they were dwelling in places of ruin and in dens of rocks like wild beasts. A man who does not understand the whole world for the glory of one of them. For among them, some dwelt in bare rocks and in raised crags. And some in the slopes of mountains and in deep valleys. And some in the holes of the earth and in pits, like those which foxes dig to hide in. And some in tombs and in the crevices of mountains. And some built a small hut for themselves in the desert, and in it they completed the remainder of their lives.

and there is a small enclosure on the summit of the mountain, or a small cell, and in it he dwells quietly, like the palaces of kings. And it was not that they were striving after a full belly, but that each one was pleasing God and offering his works beautifully. And how did those saints live in those places? Did they live in the flesh, or perhaps in a life beyond flesh and blood? Was the soul not troubled in all that solitude? Did the power of patience not fail in all that long time? Was the body not exhausted in all that extent of time, through the deprivation of all the need of the senses? By what means did they endure in that life of suffering? And how did they bear all those works and those afflictions? How, with difficulty, as if without a care, were they not disturbed by the changing battles of hardships, which were stirred up by evil spirits? And how were they not broken in all the extent of their lives until the end, by their difficult and severe labors? How was the spirit not shortened in all that submission, deprived of visible comforts?

And this entire power is from the mountain of ascetics; and again, as if a divine power were guarding them without weariness, through all these varied practices. And as if it were preparing each one of them individually, according to the place where he dwells, with varied rewards—what else but the ascent of the needful desire that was required of him? While among them, some would sustain themselves by means of a leaf. Behold, I have sixty years, I who take this: half a loaf of bread from this leaf. There is also another who, from a tree, something of a palm or a fig, in a manner above nature, as one of them said. This one, then: that bishop who used to dwell in the desert. I have now sixty-nine years that I am in this desert. But God gave me life from this fig. And likewise his like: and that saint who was in the valley for six months in his monastery, and he fled and went to the inner desert, as if again from his sin. This one, then: that one whose liver-leaf was paining him, and an angel came and healed him. And there are those who live on eggs, like that blessed one who used to dwell in a cave in the desert of Sodom. And there is also one where the desert was near to the settlement, who would distribute to them by means of baskets, like that strong man whom Serapion saw.

And like that blessed one who dwelt on that island of quietude, and the merchant man served him twice a week. For where no one approached, neither sitting nor paths at all, by means of an angel he was served. As it is said concerning the blessed Apellon, who dwelt at the foot of the mountain in a small cave. His practice was this: he offered prayer to God the whole day, and a hundred times at night. His food, when he was not in need, would come to him through the desert by means of an angel. He wore, however, a cloak, and cast a small veil over his head. And these remained upon him in the desert, while he was not aware. Have you seen how God cares for his servants in everything? And others: roots would be found. And others: from edible greens which they knew by themselves. Others: sown vegetables and pressed greens, which were sown in a simple manner. Others: from the fruits of trees. There are also those for whom the service of the cherub and the moisture of the dew sufficed for the sustenance of their life, these solitaries, only as much as the purity of the body was sustained by it in life.

Concerning the remainder of the other profitable recollections: that in these times one is moved from grace to the state of a human being. But when in these and like these experiences a human being is in his state, then he rejoices as if from living wine, and he errs from it. And again he sees himself and marvels: that in all that circuit of the desert and encounter of the saints, no encounter of any kind whatsoever befell him in that state. But as though he were with the saints, he was from then on, and clearly sees them; thus it seemed to him at that time. And from this remembrance of the ways of the saints, which gladdened the state from the recollection of their histories, and from this meditation upon them: cessation ceases; and weariness is put to flight; limbs are strengthened; and thirst is driven from the breasts; and thought is emboldened; and fear casts itself away; and vigilance is manfully preserved; and intention is sharpened; and the warm ferment in the heart is stirred up; and joy unspeakable in the soul is born; and from here, mighty tears of the fingers of the flanks; a spiritual motion that fills the state; ineffable groanings that receive the mystery; a hope that supports the heart and emboldens.

Then, like one who dwells in heaven, he is thus compared to a human being in his vigil, that is, from the good things. In these and in things like these, they come before them: those who labor in the vigil. For there is nothing that so adorns the mind and gladdens, and purifies this one and dispels evil thoughts, and in which the soul rejoices, as in the continuous vigil. Because of this, the holy fathers were continuous in this labor of vigil, and they held fast to this order of wakefulness during the nights throughout the entire course of their conduct. Especially, they used to hear our Savior in many places admonishing us concerning this, earnestly in his life-giving word: "Be watchful at all times and pray." And "Awake and pray, that you may not fall into sin." And again: "Pray, and do not be weary." With the rest. When it was not sufficient that he set forth for us only warnings in words, but he also gave us an example in his person: that he honored the work of prayer at all times, more than anything else. And for this he distinguished himself continuously. And for prayer, not occasionally, but he chose the time of night and a deserted place. So that there, when you are freed from all tumult and disturbance, you may find in stillness to pray as is fitting.

Also all the revelations that were given to the saints concerning various matters, whether according to their own wisdom or the inner teaching, occurred during the time of the night, as in the beginning, and at the hour of prayer they used to be with them. For this reason also our fathers, like the Apostle, received this exalted teaching concerning prayer and the vigil that is in it, as commands. Moreover, they were first of all for silence and tranquility from every side, as those who, without interruption in their nearness to God, through the continuity of prayer. Not only because they were not disturbed in anything from the continuity of their service, but they used to flee to silence, lest perhaps some extraneous thought should encounter them from outside and disturb the pure mind, and the delightful vigil, which is the light of the soul, be troubled over them. But they also used to eat with measure, so that no vapor might rise from the fullness of the belly to darken the intellect, and that they might not be separated from the power of discernment, and that they might not be deprived of the spiritual joy that is obtained from prayer. And in the intervals they used to strive in every way, so that they might be able to converse with God without hindrance, as much as possible, while no thought disturbs the whole mind.

of the vigil, because it is fitting and also that satana: that all these good deeds are accomplished within this wondrous service: that the place of the soul with all the members of its body is of excellence, lacking in this, more than in all other practices. This is known to everyone, even from experience, that nothing else is so fitting and beneficial for a person, and prepares his soul for the contest with his people, as the vigil of the night. Whether it be a solitary, a cenobite, or a layperson. Here, then, it is not necessary that he show his standing openly in a manifest contest against the manifest, and when all that is not perceived in the hidden recesses that receive those who keep vigil, but he is lacking in them: from the order of the standing of their prayer, and from the vehemence against sleep in the wakefulness of the praises and chanting, and the prayers of the prostrations and genuflections, and the prostrations and genuflections on the ground, and the heartfelt meditation of the whole night.

is lacking and even more so: in that when the other limbs lie upon their couches like the dead, and he is stretched out in them according to his will in beloved and intoxicating visions of his thoughts, and he rolls them about as if in a game with the variations of the hours in the thick darkness of the whole night, because of the weight of their stupor. These, however, are bound in themselves here to that vigil of the resurrection. And he sees them while they are still shut in under the face of the gate of the flesh, and at every hour the waves of death are stirred up in him, and in transient life under the dominion of the air of this world they are limited: a type of that conduct which the future will show in their death. Great is the power of the prayer of the watches of the night that is offered: it is more intense than that of the day. And for this reason all the righteous used to pray during the nights, when they offered it against the weight of the body and against the sweetness of sleep. And they used to be amazed at the victory over themselves, as also the great one said: "There is no one among my limbs, and I have dipped my bed all night long," when he was consumed in the pain of prayer from the depth of his heart. And again: "In the middle of the night I rose to confess to you concerning your judgments, O righteous one.

Concerning every petition, then, which they used to ask of God with urgency, by the prayer of the vigil of the nights they were mixed and immediately they used to receive their petitions. There is nothing so awesome, even against Satan, as the prayer of the vigil of the night that is offered. And even if it is silent, it does not return empty, but if it goes out from the whole of the obligation, then that which is asked is given. For this reason, the holy one strikes with them: that they should turn from this labor if they are able, to those in whom they are immersed. Those, however, who struggle a little against the evil of their thoughts and taste the gifts of God that are given in the vigil, and strive in their standing to the greatness of the helps of God that are offered to them, then they rest fully in him and in all his aspects. And they go beyond the whole interior of the church, this order of the solitaries holding the rank opposite to it, by the exercise of prayer and vigil. One, because of their freedom from visible things; and another, because of their immersion in silence. For in that which they are freed from causes, they are no longer able to frighten their thoughts from the thought of God, and they are hindered from their deep prostration by the disturbance opposite to it.

As from the beginning of their training until their old age, they never ceased from the whole of the labor of vigil, but it was a known service to them: a continuous standing throughout the whole night, as also from the records of the histories of each one of them we learn. For Mar Athanasius says in his history concerning that vision of the solitaries, that he used to keep vigil abundantly, so that the majority of the nights he did not sleep. And also the first generation of the anchorites with him: from here we can find a cause to belittle against the boastful. And behold, when he was still a youth, we find that he persevered steadfastly in many vigils, so that he never rested from vigil the whole duration of his life. As also when he was staying with others, like when he went to the blessed Paul the Elder, when they partook of that meal which was brought by a raven, and they stood for prayer the whole night. What from the solitaries in this place is heard? And when all the remaining virtues are gathered together, would it not be considered idle apart from this? Because it is the light of the intellect.

In it, the mind is elevated and thought is refined; it soars and contemplates spiritual matters, and is exercised in prayer and vigil. In it, the hope of the blessings of the future life and the powers of the gifts of the holy scriptures, whose mysteries are inscribed, are given. And because of this, our fathers did not cease from this labor from the time of the beginning of their training until the completion of perfection, so that not even in deep old age, which is unable to stand on its feet, did they give place to weakness to prevail over them, so that they might desist from the steadfastness of the vigils of the nights, to grant rest to their bodies by means of a short sleep. As also is learned from the accounts that are told about that perfect image of excellence and all their spiritual beauties, I mean the blessed Arsenius. This one, when he had completely separated himself from all mixture with the world and had placed his dwelling in a great mountain, even away from those brothers in that excellent desert of Scetis, gave himself fully to this wondrous labor of vigil. He was distinguished, moreover, even from all the fathers of his time in his vigil, as also his history testifies.

At evening, when the first day of the week was entering, he would leave the sun behind its concealment, and he would stretch out his hands toward the sky, until the sun set upon his face. And again, in another place, he would spend the whole night, passing it in vigil. And when he wished for the time of morning, because of the heat of the summer, while contending with sleep, he would say: “Go away from me, you evil mother.” And thus he would quickly snatch sleep and wake up. And this, with all that old age of which it is said that he was bent over from the cause of old age. And so that the strength of his vigil might be known even more, hear from another story concerning him, how he would act in all that old age and weakness, a man of ninety years. This one, then, at one time called two of his disciples, those who were great fathers, and said to them: “Because demons contend with me, and I do not know whether they will overcome me in sleep. This night, labor with me while you keep vigil, and watch me, whether I stand in vigil.” And they sat, one on his right and one on his left, from evening until morning. And they said: “He slept and woke up.” And they did not see him, all the while that he slept.

And when the sun began to set, he would again do this from himself, as if he were unaware of the sun, or again, in truth, a sixth hour would pass over him. They do not know the elder. Three times the voice of the burial of his companions came, and he arose. And he said to them: "From where do you come? No?" And they cried out, and they said to him: "Do you not know, father, that the elder has died?" In these sweet labors, the monk was delighted; these are the ways of his conduct. And from where did this manifest asceticism come to Arsenius, from this very practice? That he would afflict this body of his entirely? It is evident that it was not a philosopher who would endure all these things. For you see that not only was his inner person purified for his delight, in that high zeal, but also his outer person, which is a nature that is coarse and perishable, he clothed with glory, that which all the saints are destined to put on at the end, through the transformation that the nature of the whole inner being receives in the resurrection. And from where do you learn this? Go, ask one of the brothers, to the cell of Abba Arsenius. And look through the window and see the old man standing, and entirely like a mountain of fire. For that brother was equal to this vision. He used to say: "He was not from the small ones, but from these great ones," who went to see the old man.

He was called Mar Tuba because of the loftiness of his conduct. And all the fathers of the region were coming to see him. And because they used to see him more than was proper, as Abba Macarius said to him: "Why are you fleeing from us? Because of this?" And also the visitors who used to come to the skete, they were eager first to see him and be blessed by him. And once when that brother was late, the elder went out and saw him, and was amazed at what he saw, and said to him: "Is it time for you to be late? Have you seen something?" And he said to him: "It is not thus that I release him." And what did that Tuba say to Pachomius? He was the son of his own kind, and the head of the rest, and a youth in age, and zealous and valiant in the wakefulness of his vigil. This one, who for a long time struggled contending with demons like a victorious athlete, in the likeness of the holy Anthony. This one, because for many nights they used to come upon him, he, while keeping vigil, asked of God that he be delivered from sleep. That night and day might be without sleep, so that he might be able to humble the power of the adversary. As it is said: "Do not turn until the work is finished." For they have no power against the faith of the Lord. And this gift was given to him as he had asked, at a known time.

And because his heart had become accustomed, this one whose vision of himself had been purified from the vigil of the nights and from silence and prayer, as if in a vision he used to see God who is invisible. These are the fruits of the vigil. And these are the blessings of his labors. And these are the crowns of his struggles. You also, brother, if you are eager, you will be a partner to these holy ones and an heir to their ways. Strive without interruption in silence, so that you may also find the work of prayer fulfilled without break. Bear his afflictions, so that you may gather his benefits. And if from causes your body becomes weak and you are separated from labor, and you are unable to fulfill these things of silence as is your custom, then from now on it is permitted for you to be nourished from your contemplation and to be cut off and to be dissolved, in that this work of contemplation will not cease from adorning and remembering, especially for those whose mind is upright. Do not say, "Woe is me, for I am idle," and that it strikes me that I should be outside and that I should perform some other activity, and not when I have the empty name of silence and seclusion. For from labor I am idle. Or rather, that there is a solitary and a coenobite; from the duties of the offices of the recluse I am far removed. Do not say this. For God is gracious, the receiver of our weakness, from what he has, he asks from us.

And know this further: that your strength is as your strength. When your strength is sufficient, labor. And if you are not able even a little, receive your cessation in silence with joy and patience. And know that if it were not for silence, this thought would not remain with you, so that you might be diverted from your purpose to your cessation. But on the contrary, many disturbances will assail you through the agitation and loosening of the senses, which destroy even those things that were already accomplished by you with effort. For the grace of silence is taken from you, and you fall into trials, and many disturbances that you did not intend befall you. If you fall into trials, do not abandon your hope. For there is no merchant who travels on seas and roads who does not encounter losses. Nor is there a farmer whose entire cultivation is solely successful. Nor is there an athlete who is not struck and swallows, yet still takes his victory in the end. Thus also in these things of the house of God, in these things of the merchants of this invisible air, there are gains and losses, defeat and victory. When you swallow, do not turn your back. Leave it to me.