St. Neilos the Ascetic
Let us leave behind worldly things and raise ourselves towards the
soul’s true good. How long shall we continue with trivial playthings?
Will we never assume a manly spirit? We are more feeble than tiny
children, and unlike them we make no progress towards greater things.
When they grow up, they abandon their games, readily relinquishing their
attachment to the things they played with — nuts, knucklebones, balls
and so on. They are attached to these and prize them so long as their
understanding is immature; but when they grow up and become men, they
drop such things and devote their full attention to the affairs of adult
life. We, however, have remained children, enchanted by what really
deserves mockery and derision. Abandoning all effort to attain higher
things and to develop an adult intelligence, we are seduced by worldly
amusements, making ourselves a laughing-stock to those who judge things
at their true value. It is disgraceful for a grown man to be seen
sitting and drawing pictures in the dust to amuse children; and it is
equally disgraceful — indeed much more so — for those whose professed
aim is the enjoyment of eternal blessings to be seen grovelling in the
dust of worldly things, shaming their vocation by incongruous behavior.
Probably the reason why we act like this is because we never think
about anything superior to the visible objects around us. We do not
appreciate how much better the blessings of the spiritual world are than
the tawdry attractions of this present world, which dazzle us with
their specious glory and draw all our desire to them. In the absence of
what is better, what is worse will take its place and be held in honor.
If only we had a deeper understanding of the realities of the divine
world, we would not be taken in by the attractions of this world.
Let us begin, then, to withdraw from the things of this world. Let us
despise possessions and money and all that swamps and drowns our
intelligence. Let us cast overboard our cargo, so that our ship may
float more buoyantly. Hard-pressed by the storm, let us jettison the
greater part of our equipment; then our helmsman — the intellect,
together with its thoughts — will be saved. Those who travel by sea,
when overtaken by a storm, do not worry about their merchandise but
throw it into the waters with their own hands, considering their
property less important than their life. Why, then, do we not follow
their example, and for the sake of the higher life despise whatever
drags our soul down to the depths? Why is fear of God less powerful than
fear of the sea? In their desire not to be deprived of this transitory
life, they judge the loss of their goods no great disaster; but we, who
claim to be seeking eternal life, do not look with detachment on even
the most insignificant object, but prefer to perish with the cargo
rather than be saved without it.
From the Philokalia, vol 1, pp 242-3