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The Ascetical Homilies of St. Isaac the Syrian - Homily VI, Part IX

Philokalia Ministries

St. Isaac does not flatter us. He does not tell us that the ascetic life is noble. He tells us it burns. He does not tell us it is peaceful. He tells us it wounds. He does not tell us it feels like fulfillment. He tells us it feels like loss. Because what stands at the heart of the ascetic life is not discipline. It is death. Not the death of the body, but the death of the self that has lived for itself. And until that self begins to die, the soul remains cold. The modern man wants illumination without humiliation. He wants consolation without affliction. He wants joy without tears. He wants Christ without crucifixion. But St. Isaac tells us plainly. The sign that the soul is drawing near to life is not comfort. It is fire. Your heart is aflame both day and night. This fire does not come from effort. It comes from surrender. It comes when a man has ceased defending himself. It comes when he has ceased preserving his image. It comes when he has ceased negotiating with God. He stands stripped of illusions. He sees his poverty. He sees his weakness. He sees that he has nothing. And this is where grace begins. Because God does not fill what is full. He fills what has been emptied. The Lord says through the prophet Isaiah I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the contrite. The fathers knew this. Abba Poemen said The man who understands his sins is greater than the man who raises the dead. Because the one who raises the dead may still live for himself. But the one who sees his sins has begun to die. And it is this death that gives birth to tears. St. Isaac says that tears join themselves to every work. Not because the man is trying to weep. But because he can no longer protect himself from reality. He sees God. He sees himself. He sees the distance between them. And he weeps. These tears are not weakness. They are truth. They are the breaking of the heart that has lived in false strength. King David understood this when he said My sacrifice is a contrite spirit. A humbled and contrite heart you will not spurn. God does not desire your accomplishments. He desires your brokenness. Because brokenness is the door through which He enters. This is why St. Isaac says that afflictions suffered for the Lord are more precious than every offering. Because affliction destroys the illusion that you are alive apart from God. Affliction reveals the truth. That you are dust. That you are weak. That you cannot save yourself. And the ego cannot survive this revelation. This is why affliction is feared. Not because it harms us. But because it exposes us. The Apostle Paul understood this mystery when he said We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed. Perplexed, but not driven to despair. Struck down, but not destroyed. Always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. Affliction carries death into the false self. So that life may be born in the true self. And this is where the paradox appears. Because the man who embraces affliction does not become miserable. He becomes free. St. Isaac says that when this fire is born in the soul, the whole world becomes ashes. Not because the world is hated. But because it no longer enslaves him. He no longer needs it to feel alive. He no longer needs recognition. He no longer needs control. He no longer needs to preserve himself. Because he has found something greater. He has found Christ. And Christ becomes his life. St. Paul says I count all things as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. This is not poetry. This is the testimony of a man who has passed through affliction into freedom. Because when the false life dies, the true life appears. And this life cannot be taken. This is the joy that St. Isaac speaks of. Not emotional happiness. But the unshakable certainty that Christ has become y