Flaming Snow – On Sanctification and Other Impossibilities

 

Ὡς οὐ τέξεται χιὼν φλόγα, ἢ ὕδωρ πῦρ γεννήσει, ἢ ῥάμνος σύκα · οὕτως οὐκ ἐλευθερωθήσεται παντὸς ἀνθρώπου καρδία δαιμονικῶν λογισμῶν, καὶ λόγων, καὶ ἔργων, μὴ καθάρασα τὰ ἔνδον, καὶ νῆψιν σὺν εὐχῇ Ἰησοῦ συνάψασα, καὶ ταπείνωσιν καὶ ψυχικὴν ἡσυχίαν κατορθοῦσα · καὶ ἐπειγομένη σὺν προθυμίᾳ πολλῇ καὶ ὁδεύουσα.

– Φιλοκαλια, Ησυχιος Πρεσβυτερος, Περι νηψεως § 122

Every year I try start the New Year by attempting yet again to read some book or other that I’ve owned for years but never quite gotten around to reading all the way through. One book I keep coming back to (and failing to finish) is Fr. John Anthony McGuckin’s The Book of Mystical Chapters which bears the promising subtitle: Meditations on the Soul’s Ascent from the Desert Fathers and other Early Christian Contemplatives. This book was published in 2002 but I didn’t buy it at that time (not least because I was still in grade school!). Even after I learned about its existence through Amazon, it took me several years to actually decide to buy it. The book is published by Shambhala and if you’re a newbie to Orthodoxy who is used to getting everything from Ancient Faith Publishing you may not understand why that is in fact hilarious. 

I love Shambhala. One of the very first books which I read about Christian mysticism was a book called Inner Christianity by Richard Smoley which was also published by Shambhala. This was the book in which I first read about the Jesus Prayer and its close relationship to the Orthodox Church (whatever I thought that was at the time). It can also be hard to publish things through various publishers, especially religious ones who only want to publish from one perspective (not to say Orthodoxy has ever silenced other voices or discounted other perspectives: who would think such a thing?). So it makes perfect sense to me why Fr. Anthony would opt to publish a book of “mystical chapters” through a more mystically oriented publisher.

However, prior to buying this book, I read another book of mystical chapters entitled Teachings of the Christian Mystics, by Andrew Harvey, also published by Shambhala. I also have nothing against Harvey. It would take me a while (and a few double takes at the dedication page) to appreciate why he is a somewhat odd character to be publishing a book on Christian mysticism. Harvey is gay and Hindu (neither of which I have anything against! Obviously…). What bothered me about his anthology of Christian mysticism was that Harvey seemed to insist that the teachings of the mystics (and there was a huge variety in his book) are not really related to all that boring and stringent dogma stuff; that it doesn’t really matter what the mystics believed in their non-mystical life and writings (think of how Teresa of Avila was highly active in the anti-Protestant Counter Reformation or of Loyola for that matter!). What matters are these awesome mystical experiences they had and left for us to revel in.

I’m not an expert on Hinduism, but it makes sense in light of Harvey’s own religious commitments why he would not really appreciate the dynamics of Christian dogma. And it makes sense in light of Harvey’s sexual orientation why he would want to disagree with many of the less beautiful thoughts of the Church Fathers and Christian theologians throughout history who have been unduly sexist, homophobic, or just tastelessly triumphalistic. But somehow, even as a teenager (for that is when I read his book) I knew this perspective wasn’t completely free of bias (in other words it was bullshit).

Only a Christian mystic who follows the path which the Christian “mystics” and saints themselves have ordained, and strives to live life as a Christian, can fully understand what Christian mysticism means to Christians. In fact the very word “mystic” implies a kind of secret which only initiates are privy to. Those who attend the Liturgy of John Chrysostom are familiar with the Eucharistic hymn “Of thy mystical supper.” In this hymn, John Chrysostom says “I will not reveal thy mysteries to thine enemies.” The Orthodox sacraments are called “mysteries” precisely because the Orthodox are the most anal retentive of all regarding not letting anyone who is not Orthodox to their satisfaction partake of them. And this, from the outside, of course seems like an incredibly mean and prejudicial way to engage with the world. And I’m not saying that it’s not! Perhaps the Orthodox should take a more “catholic” approach to some of their rites and sacraments. But then, even ultra-conservatism has its unexpected benefits. One of them, at least, is internal consistency.

The same is true of any other form of mysticism that isn’t simply being sold to the highest bidder in Hollywood. I don’t pretend to understand guru devotion in Buddhism and Hinduism because I do not follow a guru whom I believe with all my heart to be infallible. I don’t know what a Sufi experiences while whirling (when I tried I just got dizzy). I can’t even pretend to know what a Hasidic Jew feels when wrapped in tefilin standing before Shabbat light. All the Sanskrit, Tibetan, Hebrew, and Arabic letter combinations in the Vedas, Bardö Thodöl, Qur’an, and Sefer Ha Zohar are precisely that to me: a foreign language. And it’s really hard to imagine that Madonna’s Kabbalah is the Kabbalah of Rabbi Akiba, Baal Shem Tov, or Isaac Luria. George Harrison’s Hinduism probably wasn’t quite the Hinduism of Valmiki. And Tom Cruise… well, do we really need tasteless Scientology jokes in a blog on mysticism (as easy as it would be)? Live and let live: for now.

Anyway, for that reason, somehow even as a kid, I knew that Andrew Harvey may be a sincere practitioner of his religion. He deserves the honor and recognition of his achievement in the United Kingdom. But because he is not committed to Christianity, I became very wary of the fact that the mystical excerpts in Harvey’s anthology are not always given in the proper context their authors would have wanted (remember how I said that some authors in the Philokalia would be scandalized by the others on the page next to them?).

So when I saw another book of mystical chapters, I was hesitant. Plus I had already bought Benedicta Ward’s books, what more of the Desert Fathers could you need? It wasn’t until after I bought the Prayer Book of the Early Christians (translated and edited by McGuckin) and saw him in his documentary Mysteries of the Jesus Prayer, that I knew I had to own the books this man wrote. As a Romanian Orthodox priest from England (and who could resist a British accent?) and a top tier scholar associated with such prestigious places as Columbia University, Union Theological Seminary, Durham University, and the Sophia Institute, I knew that Fr. John would not (intentionally) steer readers away from the Christian context of the Christian mystics.

And so, as he recommends in the introduction, I am taking it (extremely) slow and reading the book for all it’s worth. Fr. John provides three “centuries” or sets of 100 sayings excerpted from a broad range of Christian mystics (mainly those of the Philokalia and Desert Fathers) unified by the three themes of Christian mysticism: praxis, theoria, and gnosis. He recommends only reading at most one short aphorism a day (if not more infrequently) rather than trying to consume the whole book in one sitting. He literally says it would be better to use the book as a Frisbee than read it that way. So I have dwelt on the second saying in the first century on Praxis (because frankly, since I keep restarting the book, I’ve read this one a lot).

It is suggested that the reader memorize the saying and contemplate it throughout the day as monks would when they asked their Abba for a “living word.” In my case (because I’m that excessive) I have taken to tracking down the saying in the original source and language (since all this stuff is in the public domain anyway) and writing it out by hand and trying to memorize and contemplate that.

So for instance, the first saying is taken from the writing of Hesychius the Priest (who we’ve already seen on this blog) on “Watchfulness and Holiness” in the Philokalia. Fr. John is a master translator (as you will know if you’ve read The Prayer Book of the Early Christians which really brings to life the simply Byzantine rites of Orthros, Vespers, etc.). But you’ll also know that Fr. John takes many liberties with translation, usually to the benefit of the text, but sometimes quite odd or frustrating to more literalist readers. This works out OK since very few people would bother hunting down the original text and comparing translations. But I guess I’m weird like that. So for the first entry, Fr. John translates:

Snow can never emit flame.

Water can never issue fire.

A thorn bush can never produce a fig.

Just so, your heart can never be free

from oppressive thoughts, words, and actions

until it has purified itself internally.

Be eager to walk this path.

Watch your heart always.

Constantly say this prayer

“Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.”

Be humble.

Set your soul in quietness.

The citation Fr. John gives (I must say I ABSOLUTELY LOVE that this man, as a scholar, gave such amazing citations) is to Hesychius, On Watchfulness 122. Philokalia 1:159-60 (clearly the volume numbers imply he is using the Astir edition). When I first read this, I thought “wow this is really beautiful.” It sounds so very mystical, so very – modern. After all, I want to be free from “oppressive thoughts, words, and actions.” But when I hunted down the citation in Palmer, Sherrard, and Ware’s translation of the Philokalia, I was rather surprised.

Just as snow will not produce a flame, or water a fire, or the thorn-bush a fig, so a person’s heart will not be freed from demonic thoughts, words, and actions until it has purified itself inwardly, uniting watchfulness with the Jesus Prayer, attaining humility and stillness of soul, and eagerly pressing forward on its path.

You’ll notice immediately that while McGuckin renders the second half of the passage as short imperative sentences, they are, in the more literal and technically correct rendering of Palmer, Sherrard, and Ware, part of a more complex thought. McGuckin also makes it more personal: “your heart” versus “a person’s heart.” And of course, I can see the value in this. If a person is not Orthodox, and knows nothing about Hesychasm and the Philokalia, then they are not likely to become familiar with the context of Hesychius’s writing and so as a scholarly, editorial, and pastoral decision, McGuckin has made this piece of wisdom apply directly to the reader. Palmer et al. have kept intact the technical nature of this admonition.

But as a scholar, it still somewhat bothers me that McGuckin tweaked the translation so much. I can see why he did, and I actually appreciate it. But what bothers me is not so much what he has done, but the fact that 1) You’d never know if you didn’t read other translations, and 2) Most people do not have the ability to double check translations, even of the Bible, let alone the Philokalia.

And it is this chronic incapacity among modern Christians which frustrates me. The truth is, once upon a time, translation would have been relatively unnecessary. If we taught kids Greek and Latin, they could get attractively bound and published collections of actual sayings in original languages. A kind of Greek or Latin “reader” of Christian mysticism. But as the case now is, we are at the mercy of translators. The text referenced is § 122 of Hesychius the Priest’s discourse “On Watchfulness and Holiness” (literally “On Sobriety and Virtue”). This text is in the Philokalia which is from where McGuckin translates it. The text as it is there, (I’m citing the 1893 edition).

philokalia1782hes122(1)
Clip from the 1782 edition – this was once legible to someone?

Ὡς οὐ τέξεται χιὼν φλόγα, ἢ ὕδωρ πῦρ γεννήσει, ἢ ῥάμνος σύκα · οὕτως οὐκ ἐλευθερωθήσεται παντὸς ἀνθρώπου καρδία δαιμονικῶν λογισμῶν, καὶ λόγων, καὶ ἔργων, μὴ καθάρασα τὰ ἔνδον, καὶ νῆψιν σὺν εὐχῇ Ἰησοῦ συνάψασα, καὶ ταπείνωσιν καὶ ψυχικὴν ἡσυχίαν κατορθοῦσα · καὶ ἐπειγομένη σὺν προθυμίᾳ πολλῇ καὶ ὁδεύουσα.

But the awesome thing about the Philokalia is that everything in there was originally published somewhere else, and almost all the works cited in the Philokalia are also somewhere in Migne’s Patrologia Graeca. The same is true for this passage. This is how it appears in Migne’s text (with variations from the Philokalia in square brackets):

philokalia1782hes122(2)
Seriously, was the first Philokalia hand-written by a crab?

Ὡς οὐ τέξεται χιὼν φλόγα, ἢ ὕδωρ πῦρ γεννήσει, ἢ ῥάμνος σύκ[ον] · οὕτως οὐκ ἐλευθερωθήσεται παντὸς ἀνθρώπου καρδία [απο] δαιμονικῶν λογισμῶν, καὶ λόγων, καὶ ἔργων, μὴ καθάρασα τὰ ἔνδον, καὶ νῆψι[ς] σὺν εὐχῇ Ἰησοῦ συνάψ[ει], καὶ ταπείνωσιν καὶ ψυχικὴν ἡσυχίαν κατορθοῦσα · καὶ ἐπειγομένη σὺν προθυμίᾳ πολλῇ καὶ ὁδεύουσα.

So you can see that it’s basically the same thing. I’m not great at Greek, currently my Latin is a little better, so I thought I’d also provide Migne’s Latin translation of the Greek, since Patrologia Graeca is awesome like that and has double columns of Greek and Latin for the barbarians (like me) who don’t speak Greek.

Quemadmodum nix non pariet flammam, nec aqua producet ignem, aut spina ficum: ita cor cujusvis hominis, nisi purgaverit interiora, non liberabitur daemonicacis cogitationibus, operibus, et sermonibus: nisi etiam attentio, juncta deprecationi Jesu, accendat temperantiam, qua humilitatem et quietem animi dirigente, cor deducatur, et valde alacriter incedat.

For me, part of contemplating the words of the fathers is trying to really understand the original text, not because I believe in the magic of original languages, but because this helps me remember the meaning of the English. The truth is, there are probably at least half a dozen ways to translate several of the things in this passage, and this of course, as in the case of The Book of Mystical Chapters, has consequences for how you read it.

Palmer et al. render, “Just as snow will not produce a flame, or water a fire, or the thorn-bush a fig” and McGuckin writes, “Snow can never emit flame. Water can never issue fire. A thorn bush can never produce a fig.” But personally, as a (grad-student) philosopher, I see a problem with this. Not just at the level of translation, but for the actual thought that Hesychius is trying to express.

Is it the case that snow can never emit a flame? Can water never issue fire? Do thorn bushes never bear figs? In adding the word “never” to this formula, McGuckin, it seems to me, is making the statement more absolute, when it is not even certain to me that Hesychius is completely right about any of these things. My own personal translation (which is more literal than McGuckin’s but less literal than Palmer’s and worse than both) is as follows:

Just as snow cannot blaze, nor water burn, neither thorns bear figs; likewise, every man’s heart cannot be freed from demonic thoughts, words, and deeds unless he purifies his inner being, joining mindfulness with the Jesus Prayer, achieving humility and spiritual stillness and eagerly pressing forward on the path.

The thought behind οὐ τέξεται χιὼν φλόγα and nix non pariet flammam is obviously that snow does not produce flames. But do we ever say that? I mean, you probably do not think about snow “emiting” or “producing” fire. But is that how you think of fire at all anyway? When you look at your gas burner on your stove (gas is totally better than electric) do you think: Wow what a pretty blue flame that burner is emitting? Don’t you just think: Don’t get burned? So I tried to find a way of wording in English the idea of snow emitting flame that didn’t sound too contrived, and voilà: flaming snow. But saying snow does not flame, although grammatically correct, also sounds weird because flame is usually a noun. So, I picked the next word over which also sounds cool: Snow cannot blaze. Water cannot burn (unless you’re that bad at cooking). And thorns (ῥάμνος in modern Greek means “buckthorn,” but c’mon, who says “thorn-bush”?), if they could bear anything, could not bear figs like fruit-bearing trees.

But then there’s a formulaic problem. Hesychius has set us up with a three-part pair of contrasts. Snow can’t blaze. Water can’t burn. Thorns can’t bear figs. So you’d think he was setting us up to rhetorically continue the contrast by saying, “so bad people can’t pray” or something like that. If it’s about capacities, we’d expect him to confirm that certain kinds of people simply cannot be spiritual.

It’s not as if this isn’t the tacit assumption of those mystics influenced by Plato anyway. In Plato there are three kinds of people, sensually-driven, honor-driven, and spirit-driven. Only spirit-driven people can become philosophers and find the truth in the higher realm of the Forms. In Gnostic literature this tri-partisan prejudice took the form of labeling people σωμαατικος, “carnal,” ψυχικος, “psychic” or “soulful,” and πνευματικος or “spiritual” in the true sense. Only Gnostics had true spirits. But this bias is not completely purged in the Orthodox spiritual world either. After all, why would monks withdraw from the “world” of “secular” people, the “laity”?

All this to say that, we would have been justified in expecting a similar formula based on Hesychius’ rhetorical style, but that’s not what happens. Instead, he seems to depart from the structure entirely saying that a person cannot be free from demonic activity unless he does all these things, like pray the Jesus Prayer.

So if we try to fit the second clause of this statement into his prior formula, we’d expect that the “flame,” “fire,” and “fruit” correspond to the freedom from demonic activity. The “snow,” “water,” and “thorns” correspond to a person who has not purified his inner being. But herein lies the problem: If snow can never emit flame (as McGuckin translates), if water can never issue fire, and if thorn-bushes can never bear figs, then isn’t it the case (at least on the analogy) that a person who has not purified his inner being can never be free from demonic activity? You might be thinking, yeah of course he can’t, that’s Hesychius’ point. A man can’t be free unless he is purified. But it’s that unless that is the problem.

There are no provisions, no spiritual practices, no prayers that will magically kindle snow. There is no Jesus mantra for making water catch on fire. And there is no amount of Miracle-Grow which can make buckthorns bear figs. So why should Hesychius believe that even things like achieving humility and spiritual quiet, joining watchfulness the the Jesus Prayer, and eagerly pressing forward on the path, would change nature and make it possible for a filthy person to be free from his “oppressive” thoughts, words, and deeds? Why would it?

If the formula is that some things just can’t ever happen, why follow the list with a change of heart? Maybe sinners can’t ever be saved. Maybe spiritual life isn’t worth your time (and commitment, and money, etc.). But this is why I think it worth pointing out, that maybe the value of Hesychios’ counsel is that at the end of the day, he was wrong.

flamingsnow
Flaming Snow

Why did I translate the passage saying that “Snow cannot blaze.”? I admit a more accurate translation would have been if anything, “Snow does not blaze.” But even still, why not just say as in the case of water that snow does not burn? Clearly if something is emitting or producing flame, it’s on fire. And if it’s on fire, it’s clearly burning (or is it? Was the burning bush really burning?). But the problem I had with saying the words “snow can never burn,” or “snow does not burn,” is that snow does burn all the time! It’s called FROSTBITE! True, snow does not emit flames. But it can burn in another sense! And besides, according to images on Flickr, with the right chemicals, you can at least produce the illusion of snow burning. Even if it is not strictly the snow that is emitting or being consumed by flame, fire can take place on snow in the right conditions. Hesychius probably could not have known this, but if he had, his metaphor would have failed.

burningwater
Water burning

Water is made of Hydrogen and Oxygen. Oxygen is not combustible (though strangely it “feeds” fires), but Hydrogen is very flammable. The reason water does not catch fire is that the compound H2O has properties which are not flammable. Pure water cannot catch fire, which is why it is used to put them out. But water that has other gases in it can totally burn as in the picture above. And things like oil can burn on top of water creating the illusion that the water is burning. If Hesychius ever saw the picture above, it wouldn’t make sense to say “ὕδωρ [οὐ] πῦρ γεννήσει.”

rhamnus_cathartica_3
Rhamnus catharticus via Wikimedia Commons

Finally, it is the strangest thing that ραμνος rhamnos, means “buckthorn” in Greek, because even though it is translated “thorn-bush” most species of Rhamnus (the Latinate form of rhamnos for binomial nomenclature) actually do bear fruit! Not figs, but I think figs look kinda gross anyway.

feige-schnitt
No wonder “fig” was an ancient euphemism for genitals…

And furthermore, if the contrast that was being made was that thorns do not produce soft, fleshy, fruit, again, there exist in nature fruits which totally defy our expectations.

cactusfruit
Cactus fruit

Surely Hesychius would have gone crazy if he saw a cactus fruit, or a durian, or even a pineapple. That some people worked up the courage to eat these crazy fruits (or to even recognize them as fruits in the first place) is beyond my comprehension. But that is a testament to the lengths hungry humans will go to I guess.

 

durianpic
I think durians look kinda gross… 

Which brings me back to my point. One possibility is to say that Hesychius the presbyter was wrong about the examples he was trying to use to make a spiritual point. And it is possible to deduce that if he was wrong about the examples he was citing to set up the argument, that he was wrong about the argument itself. But what would that mean? That an impure person could be free from devils? That snow can blaze and water burn? That thorns bear fruit all the time? That sinners become saints? Exactly. 

It’s surprising that Hesychius used, in one sense, such bad examples. The Bible itself contains the story of the hail of fire which was the seventh plague in the Exodus story (Exodus 9:13-21). Hail may not be snow, but you get the idea.

martin2c_john_-_the_seventh_plague_-_1823
“The Seventh Plague” John Martin, 1823 via Wikimedia Commons

Again, one of the most revered (and overused) idioms for hell in Christianity is the “Lake of Fire” (Revelation 19:20, 20:10, 20:14-15). So images of water and fire have been held together in the Christian imagination before. The only example Hesychius uses which seems to accord with it’s apparently Biblical antecedent is from Matthew 7:16:

ἀπὸ τῶν καρπῶν αὐτῶν ἐπιγνώσεσθε αὐτούς. μήτι συλλέγουσιν ἀπὸ ἀκανθῶν σταφυλὰς ἢ ἀπὸ τριβόλων σῦκα; (SBL)

You will know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?

But rhamos is not the word used in either example. Why am I making a big deal about this? Why am I challenging the words of a neptic father when I should be contemplating, memorizing, and meditating on them? Because I want the raw, fresh, human point to be seen for what it is. Speaking of “knowing them by their fruits,” Kierkegaard in Works of Love, writes how love is known “by its own fruit.”

The proof of your love, which is rooted deep in the Abyss of God’s Love and bound by His royal command to love your neighbor as yourself, cannot be known by comparing yourself to others. A tree is known by its own fruit, not someone else’s. A student is not known by the fruit of monk. A sex-worker is not known by the fruit of a patriarch. Our irreducible relationship with God cannot be evaluated correctly by comparison to anyone but ourselves, if we are bearing the right kind of fruit.

Who knows whether the fruit of one’s love is (bear with me) whipping one’s lover with a (safe) flail in your leather sex dungeon (with a safe word!)? Maybe your love will bear the fruit of becoming an Athonite. Maybe your love will one day don a mortarboard and Oxford style cloak. Or it might don the Great Schema. It might don assless chaps. And no one, not Kyrill, or Bartholomew, or Francis, or your parents, professors, or friends, can ever fully have the right of judgment over you. (Notice, I am not claiming they can’t judge you. They evidently can. And as authorities in your life, they certainly must judge you in certain ways). The point is that you shall be known by your fruit. Whatever fruit that is, you shall be known by it, by the only true Knower: by the only one who needs to know. By the Omniscient.

And it is the case, as Hesychius teaches, that some fruits do not come from some plants. Flame usually does not come from snow. Fire usually does not come from water. Figs do not usually come from thorn-bushes. Holiness does not usually come from blatantly unholy people.

But, Jesus is the God of flaming snow. He is the God of fruitful thorn-bushes. He walks upon the blazing waters. So Hesychius was still right in a way. When you are free enough to know that, you will be known by your fruit, and when you are brave enough to bear that fruit, you will also be able to be free from demonic thoughts, words, and deeds. No more wasting your Fridays in binge drinking, one night stands, or foggy hookah lounges. No more wasting your Mondays on “real life” like your job, classes, and chores. No more wasting your Sundays at church. God made you for something far more impossible.

Just be mindful of the Jesus Prayer. Just be humble. Be quiet. Eagerly press forward on your path. Try your best to purify your inner being, and you’ll be flaming snowball, a river of fire, and a fruitful bramble in no time.

 

Texts Cited:

John Anthony McGuckin, The Book of Mystical Chapters: Meditations on the Soul’s Ascent from the Desert Fathers and Other Early Christian Contemplatives. (Boston: Shambhala, 2002), 15.

St. Nikodimos and St. Makarios, The Philokalia: The Complete Text Volume One, trans. G.E.H. Palmer, Philip Sherrard, and Kallistos Ware. (London: Faber and Faber, 1979), 183.

Image Credits: “Phoenix” by Steve Jurvetson. Created Nov 9, 2005. Accessed through Flickr on January 2, 2016. Licensed under CC BY 2.0.

“Burning Snow” by Todd Horner. Created April 3, 2005. Accessed through Flickr January 2, 2016. Licensed under CC BY 2.0.

“Rhamnus catharticus” by Xemenendura. Created August 26, 2012. Accessed via Wikimedia July 5, 2017. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.

“Día de Mercado” by Rosendo Castillo Azurdia. Created August 15, 2015. Accessed through Flickr on January 2, 2016. Licensed under CC BY 2.0

“Durian” by Kazue Asano. Taken on July 16, 2009. Accessed through Flickr January 2, 2016. Licensed under CC BY 2.0.

NB: This blog post reposts work I originally posted at: http://the-urban-wilderness.blogspot.com/2016/01/flaming-snow.html?view=sidebar

 

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