Saint Theophan the Recluse
A certain lawyer came to the Lord and asked: how shall I inherit eternal life? One who knew the law — that is, a man who studied and rested upon the law given by God — should himself have known this; therefore the Lord asked him: how is it written of this in the law, read. And he read: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind.” Then the Lord said to him: “Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live,” — and by this He bore witness to, that is, confirmed his answer, that there is no other road to eternal life and to salvation, nor can there be. Love God and thy neighbour — and that is all, and enough!
What a short catechism! What a simple lawgiving! Only two words: love God, love thy neighbour — or even less: love; for whoever truly loves God, loves his neighbour also in God; and whoever truly loves his neighbour already loves God. Why then is such complication needed, some will say, from God and from men? Why these rules, these cleansings, these mysteries, this whole system of sciences? Why this strait gate and narrow way? Why the ascetic labour by which men strive to enter the strait gate, and all those means with which those who go towards life must arm themselves — these fasts, vigils, prayers and the rest? They are needed to raise us up to love. Love is the light and the fruit in our spiritual, saving life. Much labour and struggle are needed to receive this fruit. As the fruit of a tree is preceded by the blossom, the blossom by the leaves and branches, the branches by the trunk, the trunk by the root, and the root by the seed, and as much time must pass before a tree grows from a seed and gives us fruit, — so it is in the spiritual life too: first upon the soil of the heart the seed of the saving word falls; from this seed a shoot develops with branches and leaves; then a tree arises which gives fruit — and this fruit is love. A whole series of saving deeds and unwearying labour make it grow; and afterwards it itself gives soul and life to everything.
Love in its true form is a spiritual paradise. It is a warm, quiet, kindly, living, ever-moving and joy-bringing state, which visits our soul not for a time, as a guest, but is a state that is constant, firm, deeply rooted, in essence inseparable, like breathing or the beating of the heart. And in whom this power has been planted, he is blessed with a deep, untroubled blessedness. Let him labour constantly — he neither sees nor feels labour, nor sorrow, nor opposition; for the very difficulties on the road of this love do not lessen it but lift it up, as the wind does not put out but more and more strengthens and fans the flame of fire.
Yes, love is a paradise — but a paradise lost. Thou lookest deeply into thyself and dost not find it there; thou seest that the tree of life does not grow in thy heart. Why? Because the heart is wholly entangled with the evil trees of the passions, which choke love. Where there is passion, there no place remains for love. Love is merciful — how then shall it fill a heart in which a stony indifference to the sufferings of others reigns? Love does not envy — how then shall it take up its dwelling in a heart in which envy lives? Love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up — how then shall it visit a heart in which pride and ambition hold sway? Love seeketh not her own — how then shall it come into a heart in which self-love has become the beginning of every action? Love doth not behave itself unseemly — how then shall it be found in a heart filled with unseemly passions? Love rejoiceth not in iniquity — how then shall it nest in a heart inclined to evil-speaking, to judging and to cursing? Therefore first of all root out these evil trees of the passions. And in their place there will grow one many-branched tree which will give both the blossom and the fruit of love. But as soon as you begin to root out the passions, you will certainly find yourselves upon the narrow way full of sorrows; you will meet the need to arm yourselves with ascetic labour and abstinence; you will be obliged to pass through all the cleansing, correcting and guiding rules of the Church of God; that is, before you gain the unity of love, much labour and struggle lie before you; you must pass through a forest before you reach the restful field of love, strewn with flowers.
It is plain that the road that leads there is neither short nor easy. Therefore, when you hear the alluring slogan of today's philanthropists — “All is nonsense, love alone is enough” — do not be carried away by it lightly. Wait before you count everything nonsense. First pass with patience through all that the holy Church sets before you as the rules of a devout life — all of it, from the least to the greatest. Only by this road will you attain true love. And when true love comes, it will itself teach you how to deal with all that an unripe and inexperienced philanthropy counts needless. It would be well if our word had such power over ourselves. Then we should only say: henceforth I shall love God and my neighbour — and love would reign in our hearts. But in fact it is more often otherwise. The mind and the tongue say: I shall love — but the heart resists these words, and when a work of love is set before it, it refuses it, even in the moments of enthusiasm for philanthropic ideas. Why does this happen? Because such a heart has been hardened by egoism, by pride, by sensuality, by greed, which cannot be driven out by newfangled phrases alone. This is why the apostle says, when he writes of love: “Follow after love” (1 Tim. 6:11) — that is, strive with all thy strength towards love; or “put on love” (Col. 3:14) — that is, bear a strained labour for its gaining, and pray that God may grant thee the spirit of love (2 Tim. 1:7), for “love is of God” (1 John 4:7) and is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit (Rom. 5:5); and the gift of the Spirit must be deserved and seized, and by words alone thou wilt not attain it.
