Chapter 1

Life Under Guidance

Just as a newborn child cannot live without a mother who cares for him, cherishes him, and nurtures him, so too does one who is newborn in spirit and has turned to God essentially need at first a nurturer and nurture, a spiritual guide and guidance.

The necessity of a spiritual guide as father is self-evident. Anyone who begins to seek salvation cannot undertake this work on his own or work out his salvation according to his own understanding and will; but from the very first he must place himself under someone’s instruction in this matter. He has entered upon a new path completely unknown to him: let him therefore make use of reliable direction, and not rely on his own guesses alone. At first he walks as if in a fog, or in some dark forest, and in the midst of snares; so let him give his hand to one who can lead him out from there and set his feet in a broad place (Ps. 30:9). He is sick: how then can he resolve to treat himself in spiritual illnesses, the most subtle of all, when not only ordinary sick people but even doctors themselves do not treat their own bodies? Only that to which we are naturally born can we learn without being taught; but arts and crafts we ordinarily learn—for example, writing, drawing, singing, and so on. But the work of salvation is the art of arts and the science of sciences: how then can one manage without a teacher? Whoever acts in this way, at the very beginning of the salvific path, admits into himself the most pernicious disposition, namely: self-reliance and self-confidence. True, “there is one Teacher, the Lord” (Matthew 23:8), and “the Spirit of God always helps us in our weaknesses” (Romans 8:26), and “His anointing teaches us all things” (1 John 2:27); but the beginner is not yet capable of such interior, immediate divine guidance. There are cases when it is unavoidable to remain with it alone—and the Lord does not put to shame the one who hopes. But such cases must be reckoned among the extraordinary, the miraculous. To expect miracles for oneself in the ordinary course of things means to tempt God. When the Lord appeared to the Apostle Paul, He first sent him to Ananias (Acts 9:6), and only afterward did He Himself teach him directly (Galatians 1:12), and this Apostle, already taught by God, when he entered upon the field of preaching, resorted to the counsel of the other apostles: “lest by any means,” he says, “I should run, or had run, in vain” (Galatians 2:2). The Lord can educate even through angels, as happened in our own times in Russian America; but in ancient times it often happened that angels brought instruction, food, and even Holy Communion, as is evident from the account of Saint Pafnutius about the four youths. But all these are paths to salvation, guidance and education that are extraordinary, which it is both impious and dangerous to expect, for the reason that our enemy can also take the form of an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14).

Consequently, one must hold to the most humble part and submit to man for God’s sake, as to God.

This path is vindicated by the experiences of all the saints who shone like luminaries in the firmament of Christianity. The greatest saints of God always made use of counsel and guidance. Antony the Great, Macarius of Egypt, Pachomius, Hilarion, Euthymius, Sabbas—all of them laid the very foundation of their salvation in submission to their spiritual father and learned the ascetic life under his instruction. As a result, they matured and were perfected quickly, without deviation or dangerous stumbling. On the contrary, the other path—the self-willed one, following one’s own intellect and heart—has always been considered a path of error and destruction. How many striking examples there have been of ascetics who, as soon as they deviated from guidance, immediately fell into spiritual delusion, were ensnared by Satan, and perished! Saint John Cassian recounts the story of Heron, an elder who spent fifty years in fasting, labors, vigils, and prayer, and who amazed everyone by his strictness. But afterward, precisely because he presumed to remain with his own reason and will alone, he took Satan for an angel and at his instigation threw himself at night into an empty well in the hope that he would be taken up in the hands of angels, and was so badly injured that on the third day, after being pulled from the well, he died (Conference 2, ch. 5). He also mentions two others who, by their own will and thought, rushed into the desert, expecting that the Lord would feed them there (Conference 2, ch. 6). One of them, after his strength was exhausted, was saved by receiving food offered by wild animals; but the other perished, remaining even here with his own will. The same Cassian speaks of a certain man who received revelations from a demon, saw light in his cell, and was instructed to sacrifice his son, which, however, did not come to pass (Conference 2, ch. 7); and also of a most laborious ascetic whom a demon led astray into Judaism through dreams (Conference 2, ch. 8). A similar story is offered in the Prologue for the ninth day of January: a young ascetic willfully settled in a mountain cave, received revelations from a demon and believed him that he would be taken up to heaven—and would have perished, had not grace preserved him and inspired him, though not with a true disposition, to reveal this to the abbot.

So it is: there is no one more unfortunate, no one closer to perdition, than the person who has no spiritual guide for himself on the path of God, especially one who has only just abandoned a bad way of life. Saint Dorotheos depicted this at length and instructively in his discourse on this subject, which one may counsel everyone who is striving to keep with him and to read frequently (see Discourse 6).

Saint Peter of Damascus, in his first book in the Philokalia, surveys all people of all times, infinitely diverse in ages, constitution, callings, and conditions, and finds among them all, despite their differences to the point of opposition, both those who are being saved and those who are perishing. “Pondering this,” he says, “I was crushed in soul and in perplexity to the point of exhaustion I asked: what is the cause of this, and what is the beginning of our salvation or perdition?” For a long time he labored over this, seeking with his intellect an unfailing answer, and here is the reasoning he found among the holy Fathers: “The beginning of every good and every evil is the reason given to man, and according to reason—the will. The beginning of salvation: that a person abandon his own desires and reasonings and do God’s desires and reasonings. Before the law, under the law, and in grace, many are found who have been saved, because they preferred God’s understanding and His will above their own reasonings and desires; and again, in all those times many are found who have perished, since they preferred their own desires and reasonings above God’s. But God’s will (in particular cases) cannot be known otherwise than through discernment, and not one’s own discernment, but discernment confirmed by questioning those who have the gift of discernment and are experienced. Only in this way do we learn what practices God wants us to pursue. But if not in this way, we cannot be saved at all. Without this, even what we consider good does not turn out for good, either because it is untimely or because it is unnecessary.” Likewise, Saint John Cassian, having proved that everything must be done with discernment, in order to know what true and God-given discernment is and what is falsely named and counterfeit, diabolical discernment, speaks in the person of Abba Moses: “True discernment does not come otherwise than from true humility, when we reveal to the fathers not only what we wish to do, but also what we think, and we do not trust our own thought in anything, but in everything follow the words of the elders, considering only that to be good which they recognize as such. Such a way of acting not only enables a person to walk unharmed along the right path, but also keeps him unharmed from all the snares of the devil. For it is impossible for one who governs his life by the judgment and counsel of those who have advanced to fall through demonic spiritual delusion; because by this very act of declaring and revealing evil thoughts to the fathers, he weakens them and makes them powerless. Just as a serpent, brought out from a dark hole into the light, strives to flee and hide; so also evil thoughts, when they are exposed by confession and disclosure to the fathers, flee from a person” (Conference 2, ch. 10).

So great is the need and so incalculable the benefit of submitting oneself to the guidance of others; Yet not indiscriminately or to just anyone who happens along. “Many of the elders,” as Saint Cassian says in the same place, “instead of benefit bring harm, instead of consolation bring despair to those who question them, and this is confirmed by example.” Saint Peter of Damascus says of himself that he himself suffered harm many times from those whom he consulted. This is why he writes: “Not everyone who is old in years is already capable of giving guidance; but only one who has entered into dispassion and received the gift of discernment.” It is good not to hide one’s thoughts from the fathers; Yet they should not be told to just anyone who happens along, but to spiritual elders who possess the gift of discernment, who have grown gray not merely in years but in wisdom. Many, looking only at the advanced age of an elder, have opened their thoughts to him and, instead of healing, have fallen into despair because of the inexperience of those who heard them. Not everyone can give guidance, and this is not only because of their own lack of success and immaturity, but often because of the rapidity of their maturation. Many, because of their great simplicity and great fervor of zeal, pass through the first stages very quickly and do not experience much. The inexperienced, however, cannot help even those who are being tested. Moreover, discernment is one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, of which there are many, and not all are given to all, but “to each one as God wills” (1 Cor. 12:11). “Senses trained… in the discernment of good… and evil” (Heb. 5:14) are characteristic of every purified person, but to analyze every case, to decide what is customary and what is unusual, and what of that may be permitted and what must be rejected—this only those who see can do. In general, such luminaries are formed by God and brought forth by God for the work. Look in the lives of the saints: a man of God labors in the struggles of communal life, withdraws into solitude, lives hidden from all; finally, it is said of him: the Lord has revealed a luminary. One who is fit cannot remain hidden; people begin to gather around him, and a very populous monastic community is built: so it was with Antony the Great, Sabbas the Sanctified, Antony of the Caves of Kiev, Sergius of Radonezh; so it was before, so it is now.

From this it is clear that a true spiritual guide can only be one who has conquered the passions and through dispassion has become a vessel of the Holy Spirit, who teaches all things, or one who has passed through the first degree and through the inner cross and crucifixion has received God, or been received by Him, and is moved and led by Him. Only such a one can be called an experienced, undeluded, skilled, and reliable spiritual guide. Saint John Climacus compares him to Moses, in boldness before God, and to an angel, in purity and perfection in spirit. Wishing to go out and escape from Egypt and from Pharaoh, we too truly have need of a certain Moses, a mediator to God and according to God, who, standing between action and contemplation, would lift up his hands to God for us, so that guided by him, having crossed the sinful sea—that is, the passions—we might put Amalek to flight. Those who are in spiritual delusion are those who, having placed their hope in themselves, have imagined that they have no need of a guide. Those who went out from Egypt had Moses as their guide, and those who fled from Sodom had an angel. And some of them are like those who heal the passions of the soul under the care of skilled physicians, such as those who went out from Egypt; but others are like those who wish to strip off the impurity of a wretched deed: for this reason they too have need that an angel should help them, or at least, I would say, someone equal to an angel: for because of the rottenness of the wounds, we need both a physician and a healer of sores (Step 1).

What kind of person a spiritual guide should be can be seen more fully in the same Saint John of the Ladder in his instructions to the abbot. There he is called a physician, a helmsman, a teacher, one who has a book written in the heart and who was not taught by man, dispassionate, living in God, and so on. It is evident, that is, that he must be one who has reached the final degrees of perfection. Basil the Great speaks thus about this: “With much care and discernment, labor to find as the guide of your life a man free from spiritual delusion, who knows well how to instruct those going to God, flourishing in virtues, having in his deeds a witness of his love of God, understanding the divine Scriptures, free from many cares, not covetous, not acquisitive, quiet, God-loving, loving the poor, free from anger, not remembering wrongs, greatly edifying to those who draw near to him, not vainglorious, not proud, not flattering, not inconstant, preferring nothing to God” (Philokalia, Vol. 5, pp. 49–50).

Such are the perfections of a true father! Without this he will not be able, despite all his zeal, to lead to salvation the souls that have entrusted themselves to him. The path leading to God can be learned from books, from the examples and teaching of the holy Fathers, and can be pointed out to others: but a spiritual guide must not only point it out, but also lead, and not only lead, but as it were carry on himself. He must be a strong intercessor before God in prayer and a driver away of invisible enemies; and for this he must have boldness and the power of faith, treading without stumbling upon all the power of the enemy: this is given or acquired at the second degree, that is, by the perfect. Saint John Climacus appears in a dream and awakens the disciple upon whom a mountain was about to fall. Saint Barsanuphius has many experiences where disciples, through his prayers, were delivered from the torment of passions and the assault of demons. To lead, one must see all the crossroads, know them by experience, and know how they lead astray; and for this one must stand at a certain height from which it would be possible to survey both all the paths and all those walking them, and among them the one who has entrusted himself. By his word, as if by hand, he will direct him how to walk straight, without deviations, swiftly, amid all the crossroads without wandering. Those who have not been cleansed from the passions all stand on one level, whether one is learned or unlearned, whether one has read the science of ascetic struggle or has not read it. But the people making up the crowd do not see where or how to pass through, and only push one another and go as they happen to go, now here, now there, hoping that they might stumble upon the needed path to come out into the open; whereas by a voice that is outside the crowd, one can come out at once. The whole matter lies in the subjugation of the passions: one who has not conquered the passions cannot give a reliable rule for their subjugation, because he himself is passionate and judges passionately. That is why a noetic spiritual guide who has not himself experienced these things will never lead far, despite all his desire. Both he and the one he guides will talk and reason about the ways of God, yet keep treading in the same place. Beyond this, he must possess a certain natural authoritative power over the soul of the disciple, so that the soul submits to him without objection, in silence, and is led as one who is guided. But it is impossible to have spiritual power without having subdued the passions and received the Spirit of God. Without this, a word will always be powerless and fruitless, because it cannot give birth to what it does not contain within itself, as Venerable Macarius the Great teaches.

Such perfections must belong to a true spiritual guide and faithful instructor! But the one who entrusts himself to such a guide, when the Lord grants him the grace to find one, also takes on great and strict obligations.

The essence of guidance and its power consist in a covenant between the spiritual father and the disciple, made before the face of God, in which the father takes upon himself the salvation of the disciple’s soul, and the disciple surrenders himself entirely to him. In this covenant lies the essential difference between guidance and consultations or inquiries. The instruction given in the latter does not bind, but in the former every word is law: there the one who inquires still has the freedom to deliberate and examine, but here any such examination is out of place and ruinous. The disciple surrenders himself entirely. “You,” says Saint Basil the Great, “give yourself to him completely emptied, that is, so that you no longer have anything of your own or for your own share, but everything belongs to your father; otherwise this remnant of the old leaven will spoil what is newly placed in you, and the whole mixture will be tasteless, displeasing to God, repulsive.” In Saint John of the Ladder an example is given of how one man said to his instructor: “As iron is entrusted to a blacksmith, so I, most venerable father, have given myself over to you” (Step 4, §23). Like a clean canvas in the hands of a painter or like good material in the hands of a sculptor—such is the disciple in the hands of the father. He took Christ’s yoke upon himself in his resolve to please Him; but now, as Saint John of the Ladder says, “he strives to shift it from his own neck onto another’s” (ibid., §5). He is like one who “intends to cross the sea on the surface of the water, supported by the hands of others.” That is why he calls life under guidance a voluntary death, a tomb, a sleepy journey, a safe voyage. The disciple is, as it were, not acting but being acted upon.

This is from the side of the disciple. For his part, the father gives decisive assurance about the salvation of the disciple’s soul by himself, takes upon himself the disciple’s sins and the answer before God’s dread judgment. In Saint Barsanuphius this is expressed in many places and very often. For example, to one who asked, “Give me your word, my lord, that you will answer for me to God, and there will be no harm to me,” he replied: “I sweetly lay down my soul for you; only death will separate me from you” (Answer 57); to another: “Understand what I write and keep it to yourself: I will make you hear heavenly, lordly, divine rejoicing; you will be heir to my gifts” (Answer 10); to yet another: “I take half your sins,” and when he redoubled his request: “I take them all, for the sake of obedience” (Answers 163, 164). What does he even promise? “If you keep my commandment, or rather God’s, I confess that I will answer for you on that day when God will judge the secrets of men” (Answer 58). And in another place he prays: “Master, either bring me and my children into Your Kingdom, or blot me out from Your book” (Answer 110). But such a great promise is given on condition of the disciple’s resolute, willing, unquestioning fulfillment of all the father’s commandments, from the heart, as God’s commandments, so that as soon as any deviation is allowed, the covenant is broken and the promise loses its binding force. The father undertakes, as it were, to carry the soul of the disciple up to heaven on himself, but on the condition that this seeker also strives and labors. To such a seeker, according to faith, the Lord helps, and that person, in hope in God, who desires all to be saved, does not doubt that everything will be for him, both in word and in deed, unto salvation. In effect, he becomes a mediator between him and God, a mediator who is true, faithful, and safe: what is said will come to pass.

So he says to one: “Let my words be written in your heart, bind them on your hands, let them be before your eyes…”, and further: “show them also through accomplishment in deed” (Answer 11). To another he says: “I pray, day and night I strive for your soul, but you also labor with me, bestir yourself, otherwise all is fruitless. Seek salt, and I will salt you with salt” (Answers 24, 70). And again: “if you violate any of this, I am not responsible; you will see and will answer on that dreadful day” (Answer 57). As a result of this, an unbreakable, heartfelt, spiritual union is formed between them, by which the father in the son and the son in the father abide, mingled together in spirit; and this not only for the time of formation, but for all eternity. Saint Barsanuphius writes to one who was afflicted: “seeing the affliction and turmoil of the temptation that has befallen you, I fell ill so grievously as never before; especially remembering what the Apostle says: ‘who is weak and I am not weak’ (2 Corinthians 11:29)” (Answer 57). To another he said: “I am inseparably with you; when you go to serve the community, my heart goes with you in every way, as God is pleased to grant” (Answer 27). Or: “By the grace of Christ the Son of God, I do not separate myself from you, but I am always with your love in spirit” (Answer 55). Again: “Brother, I speak to you as to my own soul: for the Lord has bound your soul with mine, saying: do not depart from him” (Answer 159). And the true disciple is portrayed by Saint John of the Ladder thus: “A soul bound to its pastor by Christ’s love and faith will not depart from him even to the shedding of blood, especially when it has once been healed through him from its wounds. It remembers the words of the one who said: ‘neither angels, nor principalities, nor powers… nor any other creature can separate us from the love of Christ’ (Rom. 8:38–39). But if someone does not have it bound, woven, and attached in this way, he will spend his life in vain, behaving hypocritically and falsely before his father” (Step 4, §28). In this union of hearts lies the whole strength and essence of the covenant. Through him the entire strength of the father is poured out upon the weak disciple. For this reason the enemy tries in every way to disrupt it, and through secret suggestions and even apparitions he inspires now distrust, now suspicion, now the desire to go to another guide—as there are examples of this in Saint Barsanuphius (Answer 159 and others). Because of its great importance, this union of hearts should be the first object of the disciple’s prayer: “Open your mind to God, revealing your faith and sincere love for your spiritual father, and God will secretly inform him of your love for him, and will make him equally well-disposed and friendly toward you” (Step 4, §45).

Such a union, however, is a great spiritual mystery, accomplished by God Himself. Not every true father is for every disciple, and not every true disciple is for every father. To the one who seeks with full faith and submission, the Lord points out and leads to the one who can, by His power, bring him to salvation; and to a true worthy father He gives assurance in spirit to receive and bear the burden of this particular weak one. Thus with Saint Barsanuphius, John appeared once and then did not come for a long time. When Abba Seril thought that he would not come anymore, Saint Barsanuphius said: “He is distant in body, but with us in spirit, and he will not be separated from now until eternity” (Answer 5); and even earlier he said, “Two years ago the Lord told me that he would come” (Answer 1). One of his disciples said to him: “The Lord has sent you to me as a refuge and haven” (Answer 159); To another he said: “We believe that the Lord brought you here; do not waste the grace in vain” (Answer 163).

From this it becomes clear of itself: what the disciple ought to be in relation to his father.

Everything pertaining to this flows naturally from the spirit in which the disciple entrusts himself to the father, and from the bond that is formed between them.

A disciple must have complete and unwavering faith in his spiritual father—faith that he knows the way of God, that he can lead others along it to perfection and will indeed lead him, that he is powerful before God, and that God through him will show him the straight and unerring path; therefore all his instructions should be received as completely true, decisively salvific, and pleasing to God. This faith must be bright, pure, and not darkened by even the slightest cloud of doubt; for its weakening is a weakening of the heart’s union as well, and the weakening of the heart’s union perverts the whole work and makes it fruitless. Therefore this faith must be guarded as the apple of one’s eye. “As much as faith flourishes in the heart,” says Saint John of the Ladder, “so much does the body succeed in its ministry; but as soon as someone stumbles over the stone of faith, there is no doubt that such a person will fall; for it is true that ‘whatever is not of faith is sin’ (Romans 14:23). Those who obey in simplicity of heart, if through curiosity about the abbot’s commands they do not stir up demonic tricks against themselves, will complete their way well in the Lord” (Step 4, §§7, 9). Therefore the Fathers themselves first of all made sure of the faith in themselves of those whom they accepted under their guidance, and if they noticed its absence, they did not accept them. Thus Saint Barsanuphius did not accept one man under his guidance when he noticed unbelief in him; and when it crept in, through demonic delusion, into one who had been accepted, he hastened to heal him (Answer 161). “Those who have undertaken in the Lord the care of our salvation,” says the Ladder-writer, “we must believe without any curiosity, even if it seems to us that they are establishing something contrary to our salvation. It is then that our trust in them is tested, as in the crucible of humility. For this is the sign of true trust: when someone, although he sees something that somewhat contradicts his expectation, nevertheless, because it is ordained by his superiors, believes them without doubt” (Step 4, §104).

One must in every way honor one’s father, keeping his face honorable and radiant; not only in word and feeling, but even in thought to have nothing that darkens or diminishes this light. “If,” says the Ladder-writer, “we wish with all humility to bow our neck under the Lord’s yoke and to entrust our salvation sincerely to another, then before entering the monastery we must, if we have any discernment and understanding at all, deliberate and investigate our helmsman—we must test him, lest we end up, so to speak, with a simple oarsman instead of a helmsman, with a sick man instead of a physician, with a pleasure-lover instead of one who is blameless, in the deep instead of in a harbor, and prepare shipwreck for ourselves. But once we have entered upon the path of piety and renunciation of the world, we should no longer judge our good guide with complete severity, even though in him, as in any human being, we may perhaps see certain minor faults. Otherwise, with such strict scrutiny of the deeds of our abbot, we will receive no benefit from leaving the world. Those who wish to preserve forever an unwavering trust in their instructors must keep in their hearts, indelibly and unforgettably, their good deeds, so that by remembering them they may shut the mouths of the demons when they begin to wage war in us against trust in them. If your thought urges you to condemn or blaspheme your instructor, then flee from this as from fornication, and by no means give this serpent any hope, or place, or entrance, or any access whatsoever—but instead cry out to him: O deceiver! It is not I who have received judgment over my superior, but he who has been appointed judge over me!” (Step 4, §§6–7). This unshakable honor and reverence grows from faith and is established by it: just as, conversely, it immediately weakens as soon as faith weakens, and vice versa. Therefore the enemy directs his arrows especially at these two points. Often he even conjures up apparitions to darken the honor of the father, in order to drive the disciple away from him, as Eliseus, the disciple of Abba Isaiah, suffered. That is why, when in the Ladder a monk asks John Sabbaitēs, who had advised him to entrust himself to a father, “What if this father, through his own negligence, should err in something?”—the elder said in response: “Even if you should see him committing a sin, do not leave him, but say to yourself: ‘Friend, why have you come here?’ Then you will see how immediately every exaltation will vanish from you” (Step 4, §112). In all things one should rely on one’s father, or stand in the assurance that the satisfaction of every need will be secured by the father’s prayer, every evil averted, and every good bestowed. “Hold fast to me,” Saint Barsanuphius often says, “and I will lead you out and soon bring you into rest and present you to God.” Or thus: “You will be my heir, you will be granted my gifts,” or: “We will lie together in the same reliquary.” All this is contained in faith, in that faith that the Lord, who seeks the salvation of all, will save him through the father and will do everything for him according to his faith. The disciple hopes that the Lord, in His goodness, for the sake of the prayers of his father, will both have mercy and forgive sins and not deprive him of spiritual goods. Therefore he runs to his father as a son with complete confidence, in unwavering hope that he will receive satisfaction—and he does receive it. In Saint Barsanuphius, the disciples often say: “Speak the word, and it will be so.” “You are our refuge.” When he fell ill, they cried out: “Where shall we go?”

The natural consequence of faith, honor, and hope must be rest under the guidance of the father as under a safe shelter. By submission to him he cuts off every care for himself, every anxiety and fear. “He,” writes Saint Barsanuphius, “says from his heart to his father: I believe that the Lord will save my soul through you; do with me what the Lord inspires you to do. I am no longer myself” (Answer 57). “If anyone,” says the Ladder-writer, “with a pure conscience has forever surrendered himself to his father, such a one no longer fears his death as he would sleep, knowing for certain that at his departure from this life, not from him but from his abbot will an account be required” (Step 4, §50). Therefore he considers the matter of his salvation as though already decided. “Do not forget,” says the Ladder-writer further, “that great ascetic in your life who, though for a full eighteen years, did not hear with his bodily ears from his instructor the word: be saved; yet daily with the ear of his soul he felt from God not the word ‘be saved’, which signifies only the desire of the speaker and that an uncertain one, but the utterance: ‘this one is saved’, which signifies a precise determination of the matter and certainty” (ibid., §106). Thus the Lord Himself decisively reassures the disciple.

On his side there remains only this: willing, zealous, active obedience according to the instruction and direction of his spiritual father. For rest does not mean inactivity, but only the cutting off of all anxiety about it and its fruits or success. The disciple must always be ready, in vigilant attentiveness, and not in slackness. Saint John Climacus depicts him standing on unbound feet, one of which he extends in service, while the other he holds motionless in prayer (Step 4, §2); and he calls obedience a “sleeping journey” (ibid., §3): a journey because of the labors and progress, but sleeping because all this is arranged not by him. Saint Barsanuphius often addresses those who ask his help with these words: “labor together, advance, sweat over what I have said” (Answer 61). “I approach the Lord on your behalf,” he says, “but if you do not likewise approach, then the shame is great” (Answer 70). The spiritual father undertakes to save the disciple—but as if by the disciple’s own powers; he wants to be the worker—but in the disciple, to be his soul. And the disciple is at peace only in the comforting assurance and certainty concerning his fate; but he himself is still in sweat and labors.

Acting according to the direction of the father-instructor requires the following three actions:

a) To form nothing with the intellect and heart concerning either the past, the present, or the future: that is, not to trust oneself, one’s own intellect and heart, in anything. Not to know what things are like, not even to want to know, and to be afraid to think that things are this way or that way without the father’s instruction. Not to decide for oneself: this or that is good or bad, whether in oneself or in others, but as the father says. Not to plan or determine anything, even one minute ahead, because this depends on the father. Thus, this “non-reliance” is a decisive silencing of every voluntary inner movement of the faculties, an emptiness, an idleness from everything. It requires that nothing be determined by the intellect, tasted by the heart, or cultivated by the will; think, desire, taste when and how you are commanded; but without that, stand in an empty, expectant state. This, according to Saint John of the Ladder, is “a life without curiosity” (Step 4, §3), or “distrust of oneself in all good works even to the end of life” (ibid., §5). This silences one’s own feeling, one’s own taste in things. What is good according to the father is good; what is bad according to him is bad, even if it seems good to you. In this state the one who has been emptied stands before the face of the instructor, ready to receive what is imparted.

b) But, with all desire and effort, it is utterly impossible to place oneself in a position of silence. Thoughts, judgments, opinions, plans, desires, fears, and lusts will arise; unceasingly from within, now one thing, now another, will flow forth. Concerning all of this there is one rule: reveal everything to your instructor—both the good and the bad. By this means the inner life will always be purified. The instructor will have a basis for judging the state of the disciple; there will be no waste of time; all manner of deviations in thought and heart will be removed; under the guidance of an instructor, experience will be acquired in discerning thoughts—first one’s own, and then all others. That is why the Holy Fathers ascribe extraordinary power to this disclosure in the work of salvation, even if it is not made before a spiritual father as guide. With it, one can avoid every danger of going astray or falling, receiving counsel that warns in advance. Basil the Great commands thus: “Every one of those under obedience, if he wishes to show praiseworthy progress and acquire the habit of living unfailingly according to the commandments of our Lord Jesus Christ, must not keep even a single movement of the soul secret, but must lay bare the secrets of the heart before those who are entrusted to care compassionately and mercifully for the weak brethren. In this way what is praiseworthy is confirmed, and what is not praiseworthy receives fitting healing; and through such ascesis we shall little by little grow in perfection of life” (Longer rule 26). In this connection one should not, as the same holy father teaches, excuse oneself from revealing thoughts and taking counsel on the grounds that one’s conscience is at peace and does not reproach. “Even in bodily illnesses,” he says, “it happens that the sick do not feel them, but trust the physician’s observation more than their own lack of feeling: so it is also with spiritual illnesses. Tell another, and he will determine whether you are healthy or sick, and what sickness you have. This is how the apostles acted. When the Lord said, ‘One of you will betray Me,’ then all of them, one after another, asked, ‘Is it I?’ (Matt. 26:21–22, Mark 14:18–19)” (Brief Rule 301). Saint Barsanuphius says: “Let no one hide his thoughts. Whoever conceals his thoughts, the evil spirits rejoice over him, seeing the possibility of destroying his soul” (Answer 583). “He who conceals his thoughts remains unhealed; for they are healed only by frequent questioning of spiritual fathers about them” (Answer 317). “He who hides no serpent in his bosom shows true faith; but he who conceals them still wanders outside the path of his salvation,” says St. John of the Ladder (Step 4, §46). Such a rule of disclosing everything places a great fear upon the soul not only to do, but even to say or think anything evil, reminding it of the judgment that will come from the spiritual father; it also places fear upon the demons, for in this way they can by no means hide their schemes. That is why they try to turn away from this and, fearing exposure, flee from the one who opens himself in everything, and hate and cannot bear even the very sound of openness, as Saint Dorotheos teaches (Discourse 5). And what relief this brings to the soul! For three years one man languished under the burden of lack of openness (Prologue, May 6), and then, when he overcame himself, a dark cloud came out of him—a sign that lack of openness is a work of Satan. Otherwise, how will the father benefit us when he does not know what is in us; and general instructions can be found in books. That is why Saint John Climacus teaches that just as one must reveal everything to one’s father from the very first time and recount one’s whole life, so too in all subsequent time—one must not withhold anything from one’s spiritual father, the helper of one’s salvation, but confess with humility, as to God (Step 4, §§10, 63, 66). “In one monastery,” Saint John Climacus further writes, “I saw a small notebook on the belt of the guest-master, and when I asked what it was for, I learned that he recorded in it everything he thought throughout the day, and he would recount all those thoughts to his shepherd. And not only him, but many other monks of that monastic community I saw acting in this way. This rule was established by the great father of that monastic community, as I later heard” (ibid., §39). “A good steward faithfully reckons each evening the day’s profit or loss. But how will he know this if he does not record everything hourly in his account book?” (ibid., §115).

c) But the chief task of the disciple is sincere, unreasoning, unquestioning obedience from faith and a pure heart to his teacher and father in everything, down to the smallest iota. The disciple must be like an automaton, without his own soul, which is replaced in him by the soul of his father. Discipleship, according to Saint John of the Ladder, “is the complete renunciation of one’s own soul, shown with complete precision through bodily actions, the mortification of the bodily members in a living mind, untempted movement, the renunciation of one’s own judgment—however rich in it one may be—the grave of the will. The disciple is a blessed living corpse” (Step 4, §§3, 4). One must obey in simplicity, without deliberation or examination of whether what is commanded is good or bad, difficult or easy—constantly, patiently, unflinchingly, without any cunning or doubting thoughts (ibid., §§5, 9). One must maintain such a disposition that whatever is done is done not because one has thought it up or desired it oneself, but because it has been commanded. If something is needed, ask and do it; if they do not command it, endure even with difficulty. And if you have no commands or tasks, it is better to sit idle than to act on your own, in your own way. Everything from oneself and in one’s own way is the destruction of the spirit—the same as taking poison. You have entrusted yourself to a father—so let him now make of you and in you what he knows. Otherwise it will turn out: one builds up, and another tears down. The latter makes futile both his own labor and the labor of the other, and the work of salvation is turned into idle activity. “Whoever submits at one time, but at another time does his own will,” says the Ladder, “resembles someone who at one time puts medicine in his eye, and at another time lime” (ibid., §60). Seek obedience, fulfill the will of another, and be free from care. “Blessed is he who has put his own will to death to the end, and has entrusted all care for himself to his instructor in God: such a one will stand at the right hand of the crucified Savior” (ibid., §44). Of the three ascetic practices—fasting, chastity, and obedience—the first brings one halfway to God, the second leads to the entrance, and the last places one before the very face of the Lord (Step 4, §108). What peace and tranquility he has in his soul! He is not troubled in the least by whether what he is doing is good, what others will say, what it will lead to, or whether it is pleasing to God. Even when two novices receive what seems to be an unreasonable command from their instructor, and one carries it out without hesitation while the other does not, following his own judgment—the first receives benefit, while the latter harms himself (from the Prologue).

Therefore the general rule of all the saints is this: whoever lives by himself lives fruitlessly. Even if he does well, his conscience cannot be at peace even in such a case. He must have constant indecision, confusion; and most importantly, the disposition of self-will remains the same. Do everything with counsel. Without counsel is like being without a fence. If this is unsafe, then what can be said about outright disobedience and contradiction! This is outright demonic activity. There is still hope of correction if someone contradicts an equal or an inferior, but for one who goes against his instructor, there is nothing to say. One who has broken away from obedience is given over to his own will; and from his own will—to the malice of the enemies: and he perishes. But one who is obedient in everything quickly attains the measure of childhood, or most perfect simplicity, as Saint John of the Ladder depicts it (ibid., §121). By resolute obedience some have forever destroyed the entire inner warfare with the passions; others acquired complete insensitivity and immunity to offenses; still others attained the highest degree of meekness and unforced simplicity of heart—became like infants, having nothing crafty either in their speech or in their actions (ibid., §§20, 21). An example of this is Paul the Simple. Basil the Great considers such obedience the foremost virtue (Ascetical Rules, chs. 19, 22). He teaches it by the example of those learning some craft, who carry out in every detail, precisely, what is shown to them—he sets forth as an example the silent submission of Abraham when he was commanded to leave Chaldea, and later to offer his son in sacrifice—and, by contrast, the example of the Apostle Peter, who, after great praise, for one objection, albeit seemingly well-intentioned, heard: “Get behind me, Satan!” (Matthew 16:22–23, Mark 8:32–33). He applies to this very subject the passages of Scripture: “obey your leaders” (Hebrews 13:17), “whoever listens to you listens to Me” (Luke 10:16).

The entire sum of lawful relations to one’s father consists in this: not to have one’s own will, one’s own understanding, one’s own taste; everything in him must be his father’s—directed by him, measured and established by him down to the slightest movement. The state of a person who acts according to this rule—that is, under guidance, under authority, not according to his own will—is the state of obedience, which has been extolled with great praise by St. John of the Ladder and by all the holy Fathers in general.

The path of obedience, or complete renunciation of one’s own mind and will, and of all self-direction, through surrendering oneself to a trustworthy and God-given guide—a father—is a short and brief path, as Saint John of the Ladder calls it (Step 4, §5). Those who enter upon it in the true spirit quickly ascend to perfection and safely pass by all deviations, wanderings, and delays. And this is true both in terms of the disciple’s own disposition and in terms of the father’s action upon him.

A disciple has nothing of his own. Like the Apostles, who said to their Divine Teacher, “Behold, we have left everything” (Matthew 19:27), he too says and feels: “I am not my own, because I should have neither thought, nor desire, nor word, nor deed of my own. Even if something were good in itself, for me it is no longer good when I do it according to my own will and understanding.” By this disposition and action he continually strikes at the very head of the serpent nesting in our heart—self-will, whose chief characteristic is to do everything in its own way and for its own pleasure. And since all the passions rest on self-will, as self-will is extinguished the passions also subside; the soul grows brighter, drawing near to purity and dispassion. By the fact that no outlet is given from the heart to anything self-made or self-initiated, every activity of self-will is starved out; by the fact that everything illegitimate is exposed, it is exhausted, deprived of nourishment through the casting out of its offspring; by the fact that everything is done not according to one’s own will, it is wounded in its very heart. Not to act according to one’s own will is salvific even in such a case when someone, not having a father, entrusts himself to another, even one who is not wise, with the sole purpose of living in renunciation of his own reason and will. And the success is both great and swift. Acacius, in Saint John of the Ladder, lived under a most self-willed elder and endured beatings and false accusations; but for the sake of patience and obedience he received the crown of a martyr, as was revealed from above (Step 4, §110). And John Sabbaites counsels one of the three who came to him: “Choose for yourself an instructor stricter and more severe than any in the human race” (ibid., §211). It is clear that the more radical the renunciation of oneself, of one’s own will and one’s feelings, the more salvific it is. That is why life under another’s will was so desired by the saints. They grieve and are troubled when they are left to their own will, for they feel that they have entered upon an unknown path. Thus the source of self-will and sin from within is stopped and blocked up. But by this same means the influx of every incitement to them from without is also repelled. Whatever the world or Satan may suggest, no consent is given to any of it; neither the intellect nor the heart agrees with it, but on the contrary it is transmitted to the father through disclosure, and by this means it is cast out and put to shame. A concealed thought is an adulterous thought; but a true novice does not commit adultery in this manner. He is dead, has become nothing, hopes neither in himself nor in his works, and through this becomes a spacious vessel and a ready receptacle of grace.

This is the good of discipleship from the side of the disposition of the disciple’s spirit. It is rewarded even without a wise, experienced father; but what an experienced father further provides by his action upon the disciple’s spirit, or by his cooperation with him and true guidance, cannot be replaced by anything. As one who sees, he immediately perceives the entire condition of the disciple, his disposition, his chief pain; and as one who is experienced, he knows what to apply and how to apply it for his healing. Every illness, once accurately diagnosed and properly treated with the right remedy, soon yields. Saint Barsanuphius noticed in his disciple John a tendency to anger and irritability, and began to act directly against it both by word and by deed (Answer 10). To Isidore, a person of princely rank, passionate, fierce, and cruel, the father to whom he had entrusted himself commanded him to stand at the gates and ask everyone: “Pray for me, I am possessed by an evil spirit”—and he soon attained the deepest humility and contrition (Step 4, §23). A person often cannot even see his own weakness, and perishes in self-satisfaction. That is why it is wise if he comes to one who sees and says: “Look, what is in me?” The one who sees will begin to act and will drive out his weakness from him. Thus Saint Barsanuphius brought one hesychast, who was drowning in self-delusion, to the awareness that he stood in pride and self-conceit, and led him to repentance, without which he would have died in his destructive thought (Answer 68 and others). Only an enlightened and seeing father will reveal what is in us—only he will guide and lead us to healing, because he acts without error.

The one who acts for salvation presses forward toward perfection; but not everything is beneficial to everyone: what helps one person is harmful to another, or at least may stop him, as a long garment hinders walking. But who will say, “Do this, but do not touch that,” explaining at the same time how this is true and salvific for us? An experienced intellect, beholding the entire structure of our formation in the spirit, from its first inception to perfection, and seeing what leads to it and what will lead to it. All this only a true father can do, and he alone. But what will a person not think up, what will he not be ready to decide upon! Is there not much that is merely plausible, but not salvific! Without warnings and directions he may exhaust himself, expend his strength without benefit, or produce unnecessary growths that will disfigure his inner man like sores.

Is it good to delve deeply into Scripture and investigate its mysteries? It is good—especially when one has the capacity, preparation, and thirst for it. Yet Saint John of Damascus was forbidden to write anything or to engage in speculation. Dorotheus endures punishments and reproach for asking questions about various passages of Scripture. Afterward it became clear that this was salvific for both of them. For one who has sufficiently pacified the passions, it is good to hasten to stillness in order to be with God; but sometimes even an action undertaken prematurely leads to no good. Saint Barsanuphius said to more than one person: “Endure a little longer… I will tell you… and all will be well”; and so it was. Water is boiled, but for one task once, and for another twice or more—so it is here too. Sometimes a thing that is indifferent can cause much hindrance. In general, the evenness of formation, the swiftness of progress toward perfection without deviations, wanderings, and all manner of delays belongs exclusively to life under the guidance of a father, and moreover, one who sees. Without that, confusion, stagnation, and excrescences are inevitable.

Finally, it happens that even those who are zealous at the beginning grow quiet, weaken, and become sluggish and lifeless, and not infrequently even fall. Why? From a lack of exercise, of experiences of labor, or of movement of the spirit living within. When a person sets rules of practice for himself, then as long as the labor of acquiring the habit occupies him, he is fervent in spirit; but afterward, when he has become completely accustomed to it, then both because this task is finished and because the spirit that has grown requires greater deeds, all the former things no longer stir him: he easily, without strain, accomplishes them as a routine matter. Who, then, will provide him with work for the exercise of his powers? Who will lay, as it were, wood under the fire of zeal? There must be an inventor of deeds, and moreover an experienced one; otherwise one might lay a stone instead of wood. So it is: the father-guide constantly keeps the disciple in a certain friction under tasks that are ever more and more difficult, and thereby preserves the spirit. Thus in the Ladder, one abbot employed various methods for this purpose: he called one away from the table and ordered him to stand without dinner; he sent another out of the church; to the third, when he prostrated, he commanded him to lie on the ground until he had read the entire rule and the rest. And then, when the Ladder-writer asked him: why do you do this? “For this reason,” the abbot answered, “to provide them with a crown and to give others an example, but more so that the spirit might not grow weak.” But one might think that this is unjust and could cause harm. “No,” the abbot remarked, “whoever is united by love with my spirit, nothing will separate him” (Step 4, §§23 and others). That is, all the fruitfulness of such practice is conditioned by the initial covenant and union of heart.

But the need for a father’s assistance is especially evident in the transition from the active life to the contemplative. The spirit matures, and when the passions are truly cleansed, it naturally soars upward. In this very soaring, without a guide, the spirit most often falls into the malicious hands of the aerial enemies and falls into spiritual delusion, and either perishes or becomes stuck in it. For this reason all the fathers decisively command not to approach this treasure without an experienced father, one who knows and has himself passed along the path to it. Here experience alone is the guide. And it is impossible to understand what is there, even though it is written in comprehensible words. The self-willed practitioner labors without fruit, and often to his own ruin. But under guidance with faith he quickly understands, enters the inner sanctuary, and sees in spirit.

These are the advantages of life under experienced guidance—irreplaceable! True, the Lord is merciful: “His mercy will surround the one who seeks and hopes…” (Psalm 31:10). But even He leaves us more to the ordinary path. Man himself always confuses things. And what could be done in a day takes a year, and is done and redone. Perhaps he does it this way, but since he is not confident in it, he starts over—and redoes it again. And time and labors are wasted. But what is especially significant—rarely does anyone escape self-conceit without being a novice. “A novice,” says the Ladder-writer, “does not see his own deeds, because he does not do them by himself or on his own, but even if he were to work miracles, he attributes everything to his father and his prayers; on the contrary, he who is alone inevitably stands in the thought that he does good deeds by himself, and falls into delusion” (Step 4, §54). A certain Euphemius, who came to Barsanuphius after a long period of silence, demonstrated this by experience. How much labor was needed to bring him to the realization that he was in self-righteousness! And God granted that at last he too said: “Wretched man that I am” (Romans 7:24) (Answer 160 and others). By contrast, what a compunctionate character is formed in one who lives under guidance! First, humility is formed in him; from humility—dispassion, quietness of spirit, and the light of God; then—simplicity, guilelessness, childlikeness; this is the “measure of the stature… of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13), as Saint John of the Ladder depicts it.

Such is guidance in its essence, such is the spiritual guide it requires, to such conditions it binds the one guided, and such great fruits it promises. All this constitutes the distinctive characteristics of guidance and is necessarily present and must be present wherever true guidance exists and is established. Being thus singular in itself, it appears in actual life in more than one form. The first, most extensive, most universally suitable, and most widespread, is ecclesiastical pastoral ministry; the second is monastic abbacy, and the third is spiritual fatherhood, or eldership.

That pastoral ministry is precisely of this character is evident from the fact that the flock is entrusted to the pastor, or entrusts itself to him, for shepherding—that is, for formation. It listens to the voice of the shepherd, follows him, and goes only where he directs. The shepherd lays down his life for the sheep he is a watchman, to whom it is said: “I will require their souls from your hand” (Ezekiel 33:6). The Apostle expresses the mutual bond and relationship between pastor and flock in the following passage: “Obey your leaders… for they keep watch over your souls, as those who will give an account” (Hebrews 13:17). Clearly from this comes the entrusting of themselves by the flock to the pastor and the pastor’s responsibility for their souls. In other places the flock is depicted as a field, silently lying before the cultivator, and the pastor as a worker (1 Cor. 3:9). Hence the commandment: “be urgent in season and out of season” (2 Tim. 4:2).

So it was in the beginning, so it is and must be to this day. The Lord Jesus Christ trains the twelve apostles; The apostles, after the descent of the Holy Spirit, form the Church, in which there is one heart and soul, under their guidance and direction. And afterward, when scattered over the face of the earth for preaching, wherever they sowed the seeds of faith, they everywhere left instructors and spiritual guides—pastors—and obliged the faithful to decisive obedience to them, while upon the pastors themselves they laid responsibility for their souls. It is in precisely this sense that pastoral ministry is set forth in the apostolic epistles; and in the same sense it has remained understood in the Church. Therefore, in his epistle to the Ephesians, Saint Ignatius the God-bearer exhorted them to remain in submission to the bishop and presbyter for sanctification, so that, like strings tuned in harmony, they might sing in harmony. The Master of the house sends him to manage His household; look upon him as upon the Lord. So it was done afterward as well. The bishop and presbyters are not mute witnesses of the salvation of others, nor merely verbal preachers of the way of salvation, but workers, cultivating those in their care like a field. For this reason, subsequently, by the common judgment of the Church certain rights were granted to them, with the aim of having in their hands the means to save others, as if snatching them from the fire. That the office of abbot in a monastery is of the same character is self-evident. This constitutes the essential structure of the monastic way of life and of pleasing God. One who enters the brotherhood is received on the condition that he will not have his own will or his own mind, but will live in unquestioning obedience and under the guidance of the father-abbot. Coming to the monastery, they say: I want to save my soul. The abbot is also a person who can guide to salvation; it is with this condition that he is chosen by the brethren, and with this understanding they entrust themselves to him.

Eldership consists in this: when those seeking salvation entrust themselves not to the abbot, but to another more experienced person in the monastic community, or outside it. For the most part nowadays spiritual fathers replace it in practice, and in some monastic communities elders, who are blessed to receive the disclosure of thoughts and among whom the whole monastic community is divided. The covenant between them here is invisible, a matter of conscience, but nonetheless strong and fruitful. Among desert-dwellers and hermits this is the only way of guidance, as we see from history. To it belongs everything written in the Paterikon about obedience. The power of its action depends, among other things, on the fact that, not being public and official, it calls forth greater openness and sincerity. Therefore today, if guidance exists, it manifests itself precisely in this form.

Now the question—where and how to find a spiritual guide—resolves itself. Take the one whom God has sent, and entrust yourself to him, as Saint Ignatius the God-bearer teaches. The forms of guidance described embrace the whole of Christian life. Consequently, whoever the awakened person may be, he always already has a spiritual guide over him. Whoever has been awakened in civil and social life, let him follow the guidance of his pastor; whoever is in a monastery, let him entrust himself to the abbot, or to the one whom the abbot appoints. Let each one remain in the calling in which he was called (1 Cor. 7:20) and make use of the guidance offered, not running willfully from one place and flock to another with arrogance and contempt, and especially not abandoning himself to a self-reliant, idiosyncratic path to perfection. This is very dangerous, and it is one of Satan’s snares that, having repented, a person, in the feeling of need for a spiritual guide, wants to flee from his lawful one, without discerning, without examining, without investigating. While remaining in sin, he did not think about salvation; He judged all others in the same way, placing himself on their level. Now, having repented and turned to God alone, as it seems to him, he thinks that all the others have remained where he was before—that is, in darkness, in sin—while he himself has arisen, risen up, and entered into the light of God. Whereas in reality he may have only just entered upon that arena in which others have long been active and have acquired skill, even though outwardly they moved in ordinary life alongside him. Here the snare of Satan is obvious—to leave him without guidance, alone to himself, the consequence of which is inevitably a fall and spiritual delusion, or a moving from place to place, which only disrupts and does not edify. After this, the one who has repented or who has received zeal for the salvation of his soul has only to renew the bond, or covenant, with the father who is given by God for the ordering of life in the person of a pastor, or abbot, or spiritual father. Before, he did not think about this and yet was under him, but outwardly, according to the established order; Now let him restore faith in its true significance and unite with it heartily by faith—that is, let him come and say: “Save me, I entrust myself, I will turn to you with every need, with every trouble”—and then act accordingly. On the part of those persons, however, the obligation always remains unchanging; none of them can or should refuse this. Nor should he plead impossibility: you stand in such an office because you want to, so fulfill your calling. Before the Church, before the judgment of God, and before the judgment of men, this is his responsibility. He is answerable for every soul, all the more for the one that is ready to entrust itself to him and does so. Only in this way can it truly be determined whether to remain forever with such a father. An inability to guide will immediately become apparent, and a conscientious priest or spiritual father will at once confess: “I cannot take this upon myself.” After this, even if there is a change, it will be made lawfully, and most importantly—with counsel. The one who is unable can point to one who is able, and this matter will be arranged according to God’s will, not willfully or haphazardly.

So it should be. But, nevertheless, it is beyond any doubt that very often those persons bear only the names of their calling, but not its power; often the pastor is “a thief… climbing in another way” (John 10:1) or a wolf in sheep’s clothing; often the abbot is a simple sailor instead of a helmsman, and the elder is an elder only by his gray hairs. And this happens either obviously to everyone, or very imperceptibly, deeply hidden under a respectable exterior. Therefore there is always a danger of falling upon a false guide instead of a true spiritual guide and suffering harm instead of benefit, perdition instead of salvation. An unskilled helmsman destroys the ship. “I have suffered much harm,” said Peter of Damascus, “from those to whom I turned.” “Many of the elders,” says Cassian, “instead of providing spiritual guidance, drove those who turned to them into despair”—and he gives examples of this. Such complaints can be heard and encountered at any time. A single word—“live as you’re living” or “why make such a fuss?”—will powerfully extinguish all zeal and consequently plunge the poor soul, who has only just come to his senses, back into the same state. The question arises: what should a person do in such a case—someone who recognizes the need for guidance and the extreme danger of remaining without it, who also knows the obligation to turn to this or that particular person, yet at the same time has good reason to fear lest he suffer harm or be pushed back again into his former abyss?

On the other hand, not infrequently—or even often—those who stand in the rank of spiritual guides fully recognize their significance, the full force of their obligation, and the greatness of the responsibility that lies upon them; they have zeal and burn with eagerness to be what they ought to be, yet at the same time, because of their spiritual maturity, they see that they are still far from being able to guide others without error, as they should. Because of their inexperience and ignorance of the path by which they ought to lead others, they may justly fear lest they destroy others out of zeal for their salvation, and instead of guiding them, lead them into error. The question arises: what should he do in such a case? How can one provide guidance when one is conscious of being incapable of it, of not having reached that measure?

It is obvious that both questions directly concern the present order of things. One cannot do without guidance. But in its true form, it is very lofty and is scarce in the present time. The question arises: what are we ourselves to do? Where should one turn—both the one seeking guidance and the one appointed to be a spiritual guide?

As for the first question, one can apply to it the wise rule of the holy Fathers: to do everything with patient waiting, in God-given trust. One should not turn away, as we have seen before, from appointed spiritual guides; but one need not give oneself over to them entirely and immediately; rather, one should wait for a special divine arrangement in this matter, a special sign, an inclination of the heart, while remaining in submission to the will of God, in prayerful, anguished crying out to Him, that He Himself might show us the way. So, fearing spiritual delusion, cry out with anguish to God, that He may tell you the way in which you should go, giving yourself over entirely, in firm hope, to His providential care—and the Lord will never forsake you. A priest or abbot is sometimes of no benefit to anyone, but for another person he alone is beneficial. He himself is changed in the process, whence wisdom is acquired—and salvation from the Lord is accomplished even where it is not expected. The whole power here lies in resolute submission to the will of God, who desires all to be saved. Saint Dorotheus resolves this question in precisely this manner. “If,” he says, “someone does not have a person from whom he could ask counsel, then what should he do in such a case? If anyone truly seeks the will of God with all his heart, then God will never abandon him, but will in every way guide him according to His will. But if someone does not sincerely seek the will of God, then even if he were to go to a prophet—God will inspire the prophet himself to answer him according to the desire of his corrupt heart, as Scripture says: ‘And if the prophet is deceived… and speaks a word, I the Lord have deceived that prophet’ (Ezekiel 14:9)” (Discourse 4, §6). So says the Ladder-writer as well. But even when you clearly see that the one appointed is not helpful to you, does not resolve doubts, does not give counsel, and in general does not build you up because of inexperience or inattention—do not hasten to leave him or to change. For whom will you change to? Around you everyone is just as unknown as this one, and God gave this one. He was pointed out to you by God, for all that we have is from God; but another—what is that to us! But what is to be done here? Necessity. Feel it, grieve, cry out strongly to God, asking Him not to leave you in danger and not to abandon you to spiritual delusion: “either instruct this one, or show me another,” and yourself remain under him with expectation, patience, and crying out. What then should one do under him? After all, one must act for salvation? One must. But the order of a pious life is well known; walk in it, and be at peace. This is more than enough for a start. For the one who has repented, everything is covered by the darkness of uncertainty and indefiniteness. Let him not step outside the order arranged for him by Providence. This is more humble, safer, and more secure. One who is in darkness does better to remain in one place than to run from place to place, for it may happen that he will fall into a pit. To undertake something special, distinctive, or great is very dangerous: remain humbly in simplicity. If you start changing things from the very beginning, you will never stop. In thought one may, let us say, attach oneself to another, but again to one whom God will send; one may even seek him actively, especially in prayer, that the Lord Himself may show the way, but still one must wait and endure until a decisive indication comes. Given by God: do not resist, do not judge, do not despise. Expect something else from God. The Lord will not forsake you, but will give, if necessary.

This must be accepted as a law in order to avoid self-will, inattention to the Providence of God, and the danger of being ensnared by the enemy. But here is something else: from time to time the darkness will begin to thin, the structure of life will be more and more unveiled, the vision of dangers and deviations will become clearer, and needs, perplexities, and doubts will multiply. All this requires clarification, instruction, and the calming of the spirit. The appointed instructor does not resolve matters, does not inspire confidence, does not dispose one to openness. What then should be done in such a case?

Some advise that while remaining under a given spiritual guide with respect to the general order, in particular cases that concern us personally we should do everything with discernment—discernment will determine what is beneficial and what is harmful—and they cite the Apostle’s words: “test all things, hold fast what is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21), and especially the common opinion of all the Holy Fathers that the highest of all virtues is the virtue of discernment. But this opinion of the Holy Fathers must not be taken without the qualifications that they themselves set. Moreover, the Holy Fathers affirm that discernment is a gift acquired through long labor, humble-mindedness, and diligent prayer. Whoever has acquired this gift, let him guard it and use it for his own good and that of others. But whoever has not received it, let him not dare in any case to form his own understanding, or word, or deed. It is his task to question those who are skilled and experienced. In relation to the one who has begun, this rule must be laid down: do everything with discernment; but all your discernment must consist in one rule: to do nothing according to your own discernment, but to ask about everything—whether it is good, whether it is fitting, and whether it is fitting for you; for not everything is good for everyone, but, as Peter of Damascus points out, time, beginning, condition, age, strength, health, upbringing, and other things make much difference in this. How can you know that you will decide all this as you should, without going astray? Discernment must be set as the goal; it must be sought, and for that reason one must practice it through experience—but not by oneself; rather, one must learn discernment according to how others discern. So then, discernment is good and great; practice it, but never trust it until you are strengthened in it by experience and the counsel of others.

Others say: attend to the Divine Scripture and patristic teaching, and you will learn everything. There is no doubt that reading is placed among the foremost means of forming the Christian spirit, and is as necessary as the eye is for the body, or light for the world. Saint Nilus of Sora teaches: “Now there is one guide—Divine and patristic Scripture.” The elder Paisius likewise taught and acted in this way (his Life, pp. 39, 287). And indeed: those who see the path of salvation have become scarce, but by God’s providence they have left us descriptions of this path. Hold fast to them. Moved by the Holy Spirit, they wrote the laws of spiritual direction and guidance on the path of salvation. “If it is not possible to find an instructor,” says Elder Seraphim, “capable of guiding one to the contemplative life, then in such a case one must be guided by Holy Scripture, for the Lord Himself commands us to learn from Holy Scripture, saying: search the Scriptures…” One must also carefully read the patristic writings and strive, as much as possible, according to one’s strength, to fulfill what they teach, and thus, little by little, ascend to perfection. But again: what should one read, who should read it, and how? And then: what from what has been read and learned should one take as a rule for oneself, and what should one not take? Who will tell the unskilled and inexperienced? The rule is good in itself, but not for me; it will come to me, but not now. How many perish precisely because they want to apply everything they read to themselves! There are, they say, people of such a constitution that whenever they hear about any illness, they immediately transfer it to themselves and begin to suffer from it. The same can happen with reading that is not guided by counsel. So read, reflect, investigate, enrich yourself with spiritual wisdom, but what exactly to carry out yourself, what to establish as your rule—do not decide this on your own; otherwise, do everything with counsel, and not according to your own understanding. You have read something—go and ask how it really is, whether it applies to you and how you can fulfill it.

But the question arises: whom should you ask? The one appointed is silent, has lost your trust—you are afraid to open up to him. To remain in indecision is dangerous: it is stagnation, empty delay. What then should you do? Here is one thing: do everything with counsel, with waiting. Never decide anything suddenly—whether you have reasoned it out yourself or read it somewhere; but wait until it settles, and in the meantime seek counsel and a decision. At every time and in every place one can find people who exercise themselves in piety, who are zealous, who seek the Lord, and who are always more or less experienced. One must enter into brotherly relations with them and heartfelt fellowship, and then submit every perplexity and doubt to them. One, another, a third—somehow they will sort it out, individually or all together—and they will decide. Whatever they decide, do that, and you will act not according to your own will and understanding. Everything done in surrendering oneself to God not according to one’s own understanding is pleasing to God and salvific. Therefore, when the one appointed does not decide, and the Lord has not yet indicated another to whom you should entrust yourself, wise people counsel acting in this way: if there is something doubtful and we have no one to decide it, cry out to God about your need and go to one or another reverent and respected person, and be assured that God, who watches over all and sustains all, will not leave you without a true decision, will not let you fall into spiritual delusion, provided only that your need is urgent and your hope is firm.

This concerns particular cases, but in general one can remain under this law, for our whole life is made up of particular cases. And in this way a distinctive life will be formed, according to counsel. This is a new form of guidance, especially suited to the present time. A person, in submitting himself to God, is instructed by divine and patristic Scripture, uses his own judgment as well, but decides nothing on his own; rather, he does everything with counsel and inquiry. Here the spiritual guide is God and Scripture, the renunciation of will and reason is in counsel, and the driving force is devotion to God, with painful, anxious crying out for deliverance from spiritual delusion, error, and mistakes.

Such a life is guileless and humble; and the Lord reveals mysteries to the humble, and does not put to shame the one who hopes. “A child will teach you to say what you need,” says Saint Dorotheos, “but if you do not believe, then even a prophet will not help you.” When, on the contrary, someone asks but already desires and expects a particular answer beforehand, this is already a delusional rule of action. In such a case it is better not to ask. But when you do ask, let the scales of your heart stand level, turning neither to the right nor to the left—and the Lord will direct you. The path of truly Christian life is unknown, and one cannot walk it by one’s own judgment.

The guidance of God is hidden: walk as though in darkness, only do not tear your hand away from the hand of God. From the life of the elder Paisius it is clear that he was formed precisely by this path. He encountered a multitude of counselors and by the counsel of all he formed himself, and although he did not have one spiritual father—which, as he himself confesses, caused him great harm—he was nevertheless formed in one spirit and matured into a perfect man. The starting point for him, throughout his whole life, was a painful falling down before God. This both instructed him and unified his spirit amid all the diversity. Taught by the experiences of a whole life, he finally arrived at this law and principle of guidance. Having clarified the whole need for a spiritual guide, having depicted what he should be like, having mentioned with weeping that nowadays there is nowhere to find such a one, he concludes: “Hence, brother, we now have an extreme need to study the divine and patristic Scriptures with much sorrow and with many tears day and night, and, consulting with like-minded zealots and elder Fathers, to be instructed in the commandments of God and in the practices of our holy Fathers. And thus, by the mercy of Christ and by our own effort, we can obtain salvation” (Life of Paisius, p. 40). Thus all the Fathers counsel; This is what Saint Nilus of Sora both counseled and practiced. In former times spiritual fathers instructed everyone; but in these difficult times, which are worthy of much weeping and lamentation, such zealous guides have become exceedingly scarce. God Himself and the divine teaching of the venerable Fathers are teacher and instructor (Life of Paisius, p. 286). So this is the best and most reliable way of guidance, or formation, in the Christian life today! A life of submission to the will of God, according to the divine and patristic Scriptures, with the counsel and questioning of the like-minded. By the mercy of God, it can and should be successful, for it contains all the conditions for perfection, the cutting off of one’s own will and understanding. But it is obvious that it stands far below personal, active guidance and formation. In it there is no all-seeing eye, but only, as it were, those who guess; there is no one acting decisively, but those moving with timidity. One cannot be healed and perfected so decisively and quickly, nor sustain the spirit of zeal so successfully, nor enter into contemplation so safely. That is why there are so few nowadays who make progress and attain perfection. True, they are God’s; but whomever God perfects, He will not keep hidden under a bushel. It must be added, however, that this method proves far more fruitful if one acquires a single counselor and, united in heart, lives with him in mutual openness and instruction, or spiritual friendship. Each sees and knows the other, and thus can give counsel more quickly and reliably. Scripture in God-given tradition is a light for them. Instructing each other in wisdom, they mutually guide one another in surrendering themselves to God and the Lord, who promised to be in the midst of two gathered in His name (Matt. 18:20). In this, however, one must not separate from the one appointed by God, but every mutual decision and determination is good if it can be verified by him and carried out with his absolution. A mutual bond of love will give strength, and recourse to one’s spiritual father will bring God’s blessing. This kind of consultation, or mutual guidance—again, if it is given, for God grants a friend—is very fruitful. Remember the two monks who lived in the time of Macarius the Great, in mutual union and mutual guidance and strengthening—what a measure of perfection they attained! Elder Paisius recounts about himself that from the very beginning he diligently sought a spiritual director with painful prayer to God, and wandered here and there: both in our lands, and in Moldavia, and Wallachia, and on Mount Athos—but found none. He found only, he says, by turning to the reading of patristic writings, that he had lost very much because at first he lived without active guidance. How did he conclude? “Not having found anyone to whom I might submit,” he says, “I resolved to pass through my life by the royal way, with one like-minded and like-souled brother, in place of a father; To have God as one’s instructor, and the teaching of the holy Fathers, and to be subject to one another and to serve” (Life of Paisius, p. 289), without, however, separating from one’s spiritual father, as he says elsewhere. “Such a path,” he says, “is blessed by all the fathers.” He was a monk, and such a rule is more suited to monastic life. But it is not impossible even in social life, and, as far as can be seen, given the present course of affairs and our condition, it must be recognized as the only true path. Those who are united in zeal, instructed by the patristic writings in surrender to God, remaining peacefully and safely in the same order, walk the straight path toward Christian progress. To this may be applied the great praise of friendship sung by Sirach, which is only fully applicable here. “A faithful friend is a strong protection… he who fears God will find him” (Sirach 6:14–16).

So, concerning guidance, the following rules may be laid down: “Fear to remain without any guidance; seek it as the first good. At first, walk in the appointed order of piety under a designated father. When the Lord marks him out by evident, great, and proven benefit, that this is your guide, entrust yourself to him. If the opposite proves true, desire another: but seek him with caution, patience, and waiting, expecting God’s indication or the meeting of whomever God will send, remaining all the while in the same order of pious life and under the same father, without separating from him. Meanwhile, enter into an open union with those who are like-minded, and with their counsel walk under a spiritual father according to God, in hope. If you meet one who is like-minded, join yourself to him sincerely, without abandoning others, and live with him soul in soul, for the Lord’s sake, unto salvation. Only the main thing is this: hold to resolute devotion to God, with anguished crying out for deliverance from spiritual delusion, and never in anything follow your own reason and will, but do everything you do with counsel, and God will direct your path, invisibly, imperceptibly, intangibly, unknown to you.”

In this connection there comes to mind of itself yet another special method of guiding oneself and of formation through conversation or questioning not one, but many ascetics—fathers well known in their own time, whether in their own place or in others. Thus the venerable Antony the Great went to all and appropriated to himself the virtues of all of them. Thus Saint Basil the Great traveled through Egypt, Palestine, and Syria, questioning and taking counsel with the holy Fathers of that time, and in this way both formed himself and composed a system of ascetic life, which he realized in his monasteries and flock, by which we ourselves are guided to this day. Saint Cassian the Roman composed an entire book of conferences from this; Sophronius and John did the same, composing their Leimonarion. Venerable Nilus of Sora traveled throughout the East, learned and taught others the skete life. Such a method of instruction and guidance can be employed even today. But it is obvious that it must be undertaken by a man strong in faith, already advanced, specially called, burning with love for spiritual wisdom, with a firm intellect, and in those places where an ascetic life is expected: otherwise, who knows what may be encountered? And again, among those who are truly engaged in ascetic struggle, how many are there who act differently? And not to be scandalized by this diversity, to perceive the unity of the spirit hidden beneath it—what a strong soul is required for this! This is the ascesis of wandering with the aim of becoming spiritually wise. The timid will not venture upon it; but neither will anyone else easily arrive at this thought. But whoever arrives at it and matures in it, let him act with self-abandonment to God, with resolve to accept every kind of deprivation—and God will direct his path for good. Such wanderers are needed in their own time, in order to learn the forms of present-day ascetic struggle, to see in what condition it is precisely now, and then, in accordance with the present state of Christianity and its external way of life, to clarify and establish definitively the rules of ascetic struggle that are as applicable as possible today. Although the essence of ascetic struggle is one and unchanging, its outward form can be diverse.

The answer to the second question is the same: how should someone who is conscious that he has not yet reached the measure of a true, reliable spiritual guide direct others? According to the divine and patristic Scriptures—in devotion to God. The elder mentioned above, Paisius, says: “In ancient times, many of the holy Fathers, through the illumination of God’s grace, instructed their disciples even though they were not learned in books. In the present times, however, the holy Fathers by no means permit anyone to teach from himself, but only from the Holy Scriptures and from the teaching of the venerable Fathers” (Life of Paisius, p. 287).

Crying out to God for instruction for the sake of the salvation of the souls He Himself has entrusted to him cannot remain unheard: call upon Me, and I will answer you (Psalm 90:15). This applies most of all to one who stands in the place of a spiritual guide. And another thing—most of these people already stand above others in that they have in their hands more means, have seen and heard more, have touched at least the education and experience of the spiritual life. Now, having risen to zeal for his own salvation and that of others (there is no point speaking of the negligent), he has entered the proper path and can see both backward and forward better than others. Even if the subjects are still confused and undifferentiated, he has Scripture, which describes them—he will delve deeper, reason it out, and perhaps come to know. At the same time, let him place himself in the rank of those who are guided, and with great diligence seek the counsel of one or many; and thus, advancing spiritually more and more himself, he will draw and lead along with himself all who come through him to God. When, conscious of his own weakness, he impresses upon those he guides that the path of salvation today is one—the reading and hearing of the Divine and patristic Scriptures—and disposes them toward this, there will thus be formed a union of people who study Scripture for the discovery of the saving path and for mutual guidance under the appointed head and instructor.

Here is the final definition of salvific, safe guidance in the present time. Saint Nilus of Sora was guided by it, and he says: “I do not command, but I point to the Scriptures. Whoever wishes to live with me: here is the rule for him—fulfill it; if not—depart” (Nilus of Sora, p. 39). The same is found in the Life of the elder Paisius (Life of Paisius, pp. 286–287), where it is explained in detail both by him and by his contemporary elder Michael. And the hieromonk Dorotheus, in composing a guide to ascetic struggle, placed instead of a preface a persuasive instruction on the diligent reading of and obedience to the Divine and patristic Scriptures, teaching that this is the only reliable and safe path of salvation.

In this way the first unavoidable need of the one who has repented will be satisfied, namely: guidance, nurture. The other essential need of the repentant person is rules of life, a definition of how to do what.