Podcasts about Desert Fathers

There are passages in St. Isaac that can sound almost impossible to modern ears. His words on vigil are among them. “Do not imagine,” he tells us, “that among all the works of monastics there is any practice greater than night vigil.” We hear such words and immediately think of sleep deprivation, bodily exhaustion, long hours of psalmody, standing in darkness while the rest of the world sleeps. We wonder whether such a practice belongs to another age, another kind of human being, perhaps even another understanding of the spiritual life. But this is precisely where we can misunderstand Isaac. Vigil becomes incomprehensible when it is separated from desire. If we begin with asceticism, vigil appears severe. If we begin with love, it begins to make sense. The lover understands the night. There are moments when we do not want an evening to end because we are with someone we love. There are conversations in which we cease looking at the clock. A mother remains awake beside a sick child without calculating the sacrifice. Someone awaiting the return of the beloved listens for every sound in the night. Love changes our experience of time. And so it is with the saints. They did not remain awake because they despised sleep. They remained awake because they had discovered Someone for whom it was worth losing sleep. This is the secret of vigil. “That I May Be With You” The Fathers understood the spiritual life far less as the fulfillment of religious obligations than as the awakening of desire. Beneath fasting, silence, solitude, tears, prostrations, psalmody, and vigil lies a single movement of the heart: I want God. Not merely His gifts. Not consolation. Not religious experiences. Not even virtue considered as a possession. God Himself. This is why St. Isaac describes the mind of the one who keeps vigil as becoming light and buoyant, taking flight “as it were on wings.” The ascetic is not merely staying awake. Something within him is being released. During the day the mind is scattered among a thousand things. We speak. We answer. We plan. We remember. We anticipate. We defend ourselves. We attend to necessities. Even when these things are good, the heart becomes divided among them. Then comes the night. The voices diminish. The demands cease. The world grows quiet. And the soul discovers again the One whom it has been seeking beneath everything else. This is why vigil was so precious to the Desert Fathers and remains so in the teaching of the great modern elders. It creates a space in which the heart can become undivided. The night says: There is nowhere else I need to go. There is nothing I need to accomplish. There is no one before whom I need to justify myself. There is only God. And I am here. The Recovery of Wonder Yet there is something even deeper in Isaac's teaching. Vigil is not merely about attention. It is about wonder. Isaac tells us that the one who perseveres in vigil begins to “gaze upon” heavenly realities. His language is deliberately extravagant: the soul comes to possess “the eyes of Cherubim.” What does this mean? It means that purification changes how we see. The tragedy of fallen existence is not simply that we commit sins. It is that we gradually cease to be astonished by God. We become accustomed to everything. Accustomed to the Gospel. Accustomed to the Eucharist. Accustomed to the name of Jesus. Accustomed to the Cross. Accustomed even to the astonishing claim that the Creator of heaven and earth desires communion with us. And when wonder disappears, desire soon weakens with it. The Fathers knew that the heart must be awakened again. This is one reason vigil has such power. In the silence of the night, familiar words can suddenly become new. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God…” We may have spoken those words ten thousand times. Yet in the stillness something can happen. Jesus. The Name becomes luminous. God is here. God sees me. God desires me. God has called me into existence that I might share His life. And suddenly prayer is no longer something we are performing. It is encounter. Wonder gives birth to desire, and desire gives birth to greater attention. Then the soul begins to understand why the saints stayed awake. The Vigil of the Lover This is why we must be careful not to turn Isaac's teaching into another spiritual program. Stay awake longer. Say more psalms. Sleep less. Accumulate hours. Isaac himself warns against precisely this distortion. A person may endure “prolonged psalmody,” weariness of the tongue, and “night-long standing,” and yet receive little fruit because the mind is elsewhere. The body is standing before God while the heart is wandering through the world. Isaac asks, with characteristic directness: Why sow so much seed if we continually prevent it from bearing fruit? Vigil without attention becomes habit. Vigil without desire becomes endurance. Vigil without love becomes religious achievement. And religious achievement can quietly feed the very ego that asceticism is meant to dismantle. The true vigil begins somewhere deeper. Stay with Me. This is the invitation hidden within the night. Christ in Gethsemane asked His disciples, “Could you not watch with me one hour?” Perhaps every vigil is, in some mysterious way, our answer to that question. Yes, Lord. I will stay. Not because I am strong. Not because I am an ascetic. Not because I want to imagine myself among the saints. I stay because You are here. Why Vigil Requires the Day This also explains something that Isaac emphasizes strongly and that can easily be overlooked. The vigil cannot be separated from the way we live during the day. If we spend the day deliberately filling the mind with noise, agitation, curiosity, argument, distraction, and endless encounters, we should not be surprised if those same things accompany us into prayer at night. Isaac therefore insists that the monk who desires the fruit of vigil must guard himself from unnecessary disturbance during the day. This is not contempt for the world. It is custody of the heart. The Fathers understood something about human consciousness that our age desperately needs to rediscover: what we give ourselves to leaves traces within us. Everything enters the heart. Images. Conversations. Arguments. News. Resentments. Fantasies. Fears. The opinions of others. The desire to be seen. The need to respond. The mind carries these things into silence. Thus vigil actually begins long before nightfall. It begins with how we guard the heart throughout the day. The School of Freedom This is one reason the disappearance of vigil from much contemporary Christian life is significant. We have not merely lost an ascetical practice. We have lost one of the great schools of desire, attention, and freedom. The modern world teaches us to flee silence. It places a device in our hand capable of filling every empty moment. It trains the eyes to seek novelty and the mind to expect constant stimulation. The Fathers move in precisely the opposite direction. Be still. Remain. Watch. Wait. Listen. Do not flee the emptiness. Because eventually you may discover that it was never empty. Someone was waiting for you there. The purpose of vigil is not to prove that we can conquer the body. It is to become free enough to recognize the presence of the Beloved. “I Sleep, but My Heart Is Awake” The goal, then, is ultimately something greater than remaining physically awake. The goal is wakefulness of heart. “I sleep, but my heart is awake,” says the Bride in the Song of Songs. There is the mystery. The deepest vigil eventually becomes a state of the soul. A person begins to live before God. The Jesus Prayer continues beneath thought. The remembrance of God becomes increasingly continuous. The heart waits for Him. Looks toward Him. Listens for Him. Desires Him. This is the angelic quality Isaac sees in vigil. The angels do not merely “stay awake.” They exist in ceaseless attention to God. Their life is beholding. And Isaac dares to say that through vigil the human person begins to participate in this same movement. The eyes of the heart open. Wonder returns. Desire intensifies. Prayer deepens. The mind grows light. And gradually the soul discovers that the ascetical life is not fundamentally a life of deprivation. It is a life of fascination. The Night Is Not Empty Perhaps this is what we most need to recover from Isaac. We will never understand the asceticism of the Fathers if we begin with what they gave up. We must begin with what they saw. They saw a Beauty before which the beauties of the world grew pale. They tasted a sweetness that made lesser consolations seem small. They discovered a Love so immense that solitude became communion, silence became fullness, fasting became hunger for God, and vigil became the refusal to leave the presence of the Beloved. This is why the teaching on vigil belongs so naturally beside the language of desire and wonder. The ascetic does not remain awake merely because a rule commands it. He has glimpsed something. And because he has glimpsed it, he wants to see more. Wonder awakens desire. Desire gathers the scattered heart. The gathered heart becomes attentive. Attention becomes prayer. And prayer becomes communion. Then something remarkable happens. What once appeared burdensome becomes precious. The night that once seemed long becomes too short. Silence that once frightened us becomes the place we long to enter. And the prayer that once seemed an obligation becomes something from which we are reluctant to depart. The saints kept vigil because they discovered that the night was not empty. The Beloved was there. And once the heart knows this, the deepest question is no longer: Why would anyone remain awake to pray? It becomes: How could love not want to remain? --- Text of chat during the group: 00:18:08 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 222, Homily 20 00:23:28 David Swiderski: The last time we discussed this and sleeping 8 hours straight and for most of time people at least in Europe slept "2" times I went back to my Grandfather's diary and it appears the wood stoves in Northern Wisconsin only lasted 4hrs and you would need to get up and feed the fire so they naturally did vigils and took advantage of the break in sleep. In Spain and Latina America they have a nap in some areas due to the heat (2 hour lunch) and are up till 1 or 2 am. It seems modern western society is a new adaptation of what was a practice for hundreds of years. 00:25:10 Ryan Ngeve: Father what is one to do if these practices and deprivations make us more agitated/irritated and downcast, especially towards  others, as they tend to do? 00:39:01 Gwen's iPhone: my cat does! 00:39:24 James Hickman: Is it safe to call vigils a means to the end, which is nearness to the Lord, such that a super practical means to find closeness with the Lord is this watching for him when there are fewer distractions (not that we are safe from distractions in the night, but that the many combating us in the day are perhaps different in kind or number than those distractions of the night)? 00:42:15 Rod Castillo: I pray my daily rosary at 2 am.  It's the only time the house is quiet enough to allow me to devote myself completely to it. 00:43:46 James Hickman: Reacted to "I pray my daily rosary at 2 am.  It's the only time the house is quiet enough to allow me to devote myself completely to it." with

"He was an Egyptian by birth and a great Egyptian ascetic. As a boy, he visited various spiritual teachers and gathered proven experience as a bee gathers honey from flowers. Pimen once begged the elder Paul to take him to St Païsius. Seeing him, Païsius said: 'This child will save many; the hand of God is on him.' In time, Pimen became a monk and drew two of his brothers to monasticism. Their mother once came to see her sons, but Pimen would not allow her in, asking through the door: 'Which do you want more: to see us here and now, or in the other world in eternity?' Their mother went away joy-fully, saying: 'If I will see you for certain there, I don't need to see you here.' In the monastery of these three brothers, governed by the eldest, Abba Anoub, the rule was as follows: at night, four hours were passed in manual work, four hours in sleep and four in reading the Psalter. The day was passed, from morning to noon, in alternate work and prayer, from mid-day to Vespers in reading and after Vespers they prepared their meal, the only one in the twenty--four hours, and this usually of some sort of cabbage. Pimen himself said about their life: 'We ate what was to hand. No-one ever said: "Give me something else", or "I won't eat that". In that way, we spent our whole life in silence and peace.' He lived in the fifth century, and entered peacefully into rest in great old age." (Prologue)   His name means "shepherd". Many of his words can be found in the Sayings of the Desert Fathers.

I think so many of us are longing for a faith that meets us right where we are. A faith that we can practice in school car line. At work. On a hospital bed. During a pandemic. A faith that is not merely escapism or triumphalism but a real faith in Christ that works not for the benefits it gives us, but for the ways it opens us up to the mystery of God. A faith that leaves room for questions, doubts, and one in which we don't have to perform to perfection. That's why I love the writing of Tish Harrison Warren. Listen to these book titles: Liturgy of the Ordinary. Prayer In The Night. And her most recent, What Grows in Wearly Lands: On Christian Resilience. Tish formerly wrote a weekly newsletter about faith for The New York Times. She serves as the C.S. Lewis Theological Write-in-residence at Truett Seminary's Anglican Episcopal House of Studies. She is a senior fellow with the Trinity Forum and an assisting priest at Immanuel Anglican Church. In this conversation we talk about Christian resilience, what we can learn from the first thousand years of church history, the writings of the Desert Fathers and Mothers, and Tish's spiritual journey from the Southern Baptist Church to the PCA to now becoming a priest in the Anglican Church. Topics Covered: Writing in the midst of a busy life The frustration of writing and how to get it done Writing to teach ideas vs writing to convey beauty Reflections on evangelicalism in Tish’s early years Tish’s journey to becoming an Anglican priest Why we need the first 1000 years of the church Who the Desert Fathers and Mothers are and what we can learn from them Resources Mentioned: What Grows In Weary Lands: On Christian Resilience by Tish Harrison Warren Prayer in the Night: For Those Who Work or Watch or Weep by Tish Harrison Warren Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices In Everyday Life by Tish Harrison Warren Advent: The Season of Hope by Tish Harrison Warren Make Your Home In This Luminous Dark: Mysticism, Art, And The Path of Unknowing by James K.A. Smith Desiring The Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, And Cultural Formation by James K.A. Smith You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit by James K.A. Smith Liturgies of the Wild: Myths That Make Us by Martin Shaw Show Sponsor: Planning Center This episode is brought to you by Planning Center, helping you sync all your ministry details across your whole church. Planning Center has become so essential to how I manage a team, that it's almost impossible to consider local church ministry without it anymore. Today, I want to leave you with a PCO pro-tip. Does this sound like a familiar situation? It's the end of the week. You're about to leave the office when you suddenly think: Did all of our volunteers confirm for Sunday? You scroll through the schedule and sure enough—there's a gap. Instead of allowing yourself to spiral into a panic, try this: In Services, Planning Center has gap alerts. Turn them on, and you'll get a heads-up days before service if positions are still unfilled or unconfirmed. No more end of the week scrambling. Speaking of less scrambling, did you know you can access everything you need for rehearsals right from the Service media player on your phone? Lyrics, chord charts, arrangement notes—it's all right there, so you're not hunting for files in the middle of hitting those power chords. To see what else you can do to make your Sundays easier, go to planningcenter.com/blog. The post #398: Christian Resilience, Women In Ministry, And The Attractiveness of Anglicanism With Tish Harrison Warren appeared first on Beyond Sunday Worship.

There is a great mercy hidden within these unsettling sayings from the Evergetinos. The Desert Fathers do not speak to us about spiritual warfare in order to make us preoccupied with the devil. They speak about it so that we might become sober, humble, and utterly dependent upon Christ. This is one of the great blessings the Desert Fathers continue to offer the Church. They expose what ordinarily remains hidden. Modern man tends to imagine temptation almost exclusively in terms of dramatic moral choices. We think of sin as something obvious placed before the will: Will I do this or will I not? But the Fathers understood the human heart far more subtly. Long before the temptation becomes an obvious choice, something has often already begun moving within us: a thought entertained, an irritation indulged, a desire awakened, an image cherished, a conversation replayed, praise secretly enjoyed, an injury remembered, a judgment formed, prayer postponed. The enemy rarely begins by asking us to renounce God. He asks only that we become slightly inattentive. And so Abba Simon gives us one of the most important sentences in tonight's reading: “Keep watch inside your cell, and keep watch outside it.” The brother cannot understand why he leaves his cell, becomes caught up in the distraction of others, laughs when they laugh, talks when they talk, and then discovers upon returning that the peace he formerly possessed has disappeared. He wants to move between recollection and distraction without consequence. Abba Simon tells him gently but firmly: That is impossible. The heart carries within itself what it consents to. This is why nepsis—watchfulness—is so central to the spirituality of the desert. The Fathers discovered that the cell is not merely a physical room. Ultimately, the cell is the heart. We must learn to inhabit it wherever we are. Solitude without vigilance will not save us, nor will activity necessarily destroy us. What matters is whether the heart remains awake before God. The modern elders say the same. St. Porphyrios continually warned against becoming fascinated with darkness. We do not overcome darkness by staring at it. We turn toward Christ. St. Paisios likewise spoke with great realism about the suggestions of the enemy, yet his emphasis was always upon humility and trust in God. St. Silouan and St. Sophrony understood perhaps most deeply that spiritual warfare is finally a battle over where the heart will abide: in itself or in Christ. This is precisely why these passages must never be read merely intellectually. We can study the taxonomy of temptation and still remain utterly blind to ourselves. Indeed, that may itself become another temptation. The moment I read these sayings and begin identifying the passions of other people, I have already missed their purpose. The proper response is much simpler: There but for the grace of God go I. “Satan Is Not Dead” Perhaps the most sobering saying tonight is the Elder's response to the man who declares, “I am dead to the world.” “You may say that you are dead, but Satan is not dead.” What extraordinary spiritual realism. The Fathers distrust premature declarations about ourselves. I have conquered this passion. I am beyond that temptation. This no longer affects me. I have reached dispassion. I understand myself now. No. The desert teaches us never to presume upon yesterday's victory. This is not because the Fathers are pessimistic about grace. Quite the opposite. They are so convinced of the power of grace that they refuse to confuse grace with human self-confidence. A man who knows his weakness can be extraordinarily strong because he clings to Christ. A man convinced of his strength is already standing dangerously alone. This is why the account of the dying monk is so striking. Satan says, “You have eluded me,” and even then the Elder replies: “I do not yet know whether I have eluded you.” There is no spiritual swagger here. No confidence in accomplishments. No inventory of virtues. Only vigilance until the final breath. The Trembling of Agathon Then comes Abba Agathon. He has spent his life seeking God. Yet as death approaches and the brothers ask whether he is confident that his deeds have been pleasing to God, he answers: “God's judgment is one thing, man's another.” This is not neurotic scrupulosity. It is humility purified of illusion. Agathon knows something we continually forget: we cannot finally stand outside ourselves and judge our own souls. Even our virtues may contain admixtures we cannot perceive. Generosity may conceal a hunger to be needed. Zeal may conceal anger. Orthodoxy may conceal pride. Asceticism may conceal self-reliance. Service may conceal the desire for recognition. Even repentance itself can become subtly self-absorbed. Therefore Agathon places himself entirely before God. And notice how the story ends. He dies in joy. This is crucial. The humility of the Desert Fathers does not lead to despair. It leads to freedom. Agathon has nothing left to defend. Nothing to prove. Nothing to claim for himself. He places everything into the hands of God and ascends “as one who greets his friends and loved ones.” True humility ends in joy because it has surrendered the impossible burden of saving itself. The Vessels of the Enemy The extraordinary vision of Abba Makarios brings all of this together. The devil appears covered with vessels containing different means of temptation. One attacks prayer with drowsiness. Another Scripture with physical discomfort. Another obedience. Another chastity. Another speech. Another appetite. Another humility through pride. Another virtue through vainglory. Another remembrance of eternity through forgetfulness. The image may seem strange to us, but its psychological and spiritual insight is profound. The enemy studies where we are vulnerable. He does not tempt everyone identically. And more importantly, he frequently attacks us precisely where we are seeking God. When we pray, suddenly we become tired. When we seek silence, a hundred apparently urgent thoughts arise. When we begin fasting, food occupies our imagination. When we perform some good work, we begin wondering whether anyone noticed. When God gives us spiritual insight, we subtly begin thinking ourselves spiritually insightful. When we experience grace, we may begin secretly believing that the grace belongs to us. Even virtue can become the material of temptation. This is why Makarios sees vessels around the devil's neck filled with pride and human glory. The enemy does not care whether he captures us through obvious vice or apparent virtue. He cares only that the gaze of the heart moves away from Christ and returns to itself. And perhaps the most frightening vessel is the one containing forgetfulness. The enemy makes “the memory of these things disappear.” Forgetfulness is not simply poor memory. In the language of the Fathers, it is an existential forgetfulness of God. We forget who we are. We forget whose we are. We forget death. We forget judgment. We forget mercy. We forget the Kingdom. We forget the presence of Christ. And once remembrance disappears, almost anything can enter. This is why the Jesus Prayer is so powerful. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.” It is remembrance restored. The Name gathers the scattered heart. The Name interrupts the conversation with the logismoi. The Name returns us to Presence. Sitting With the Fathers This is why we need to journey with the Desert Fathers rather than merely read them. Their sayings are not curiosities from an exotic period of Christian history. They are maps of the human heart. We should read them slowly enough that they begin reading us. Where am I inattentive? Where have I become confident in myself? What thought do I repeatedly entertain? Where do I seek human approval? What happens to my heart after certain conversations? What destroys my recollection? What makes prayer difficult? Where has forgetfulness entered? And above all: Where am I relying upon myself rather than Christ? These questions should not produce anxiety. They should produce humility. The Desert Fathers were not obsessed with demons. They were captivated by God. Precisely because they desired God so intensely, they learned to recognize everything that sought to draw the heart away from Him. And they knew they did not fight alone. We live within the communion of the Church. The angels surround us. The saints intercede for us. The Mother of God shelters us. The prayers of the Church carry us. Our guardian angel accompanies us. And the Name of Jesus is placed upon our lips. The evil one may indeed be relentless. But he is not sovereign. Christ is. Makarios can interrogate the devil precisely because Christ has already conquered him. The powers of darkness are exposed because the Light has come into the world. And so vigilance is not fearfully watching for Satan behind every movement of life. Vigilance is keeping the heart turned toward Christ. The safest person spiritually is therefore not the one who thinks, I would never fall into that. It is the one who whispers: Lord, without You I could fall into anything. Keep me. Guard my heart. Give me remembrance of You. Send Your holy angels to protect me. Through the prayers of Your saints, preserve me from deception. And then we understand why we must keep returning to the desert. The Fathers know the terrain. They have watched thoughts arise and disappear. They have suffered temptation. They have fallen and risen. They have learned the terrible danger of self-confidence and the astonishing strength hidden in humility. They take us by the hand and teach us to watch. Inside the cell. Outside the cell. Until our final breath. Not because we are terrified of the darkness, but because we have discovered something infinitely more beautiful that we do not wish to lose sight of: the face of Christ. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:08:04 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Volume 3 page 54 number 3 00:56:55 James Hickman: In the past year or so, certain Catholic exorcists have come under attack for describing a bit of their healing ministry. For instance, some attack the priests for revealing that the devil has told them x, y, or z. The attackers, who only seem to attack the priests behind their backs, say that the priests are either lying or that they've been misled by the devil, for the demons can't be trusted. I trust these priests, and here Abba Macarius is just one more witness to the power of the Church to compel the demons, if it be God's holy will, to share what otherwise we wouldn't know. I suppose I'm sharing this hoping more of us will pray for these exorcists and for priests in general. Abba Macarius, pray for us! 01:04:00 Forrest: The appearance of the Devil in this story reminds me of an earlier hypothesis where a great saint laughed at a group of demons struggling to lift a single feather.  How hard it was for them! Here the Prince of Demons wears many vessels with feathers attached. 01:04:25 Adam Paige: The 35 Doctors of the Church: Revised Edition by Rev. Christopher Rengers, O.F.M. Cap 01:18:27 Rebecca Thérèse: Uriah the Hittite 01:20:25 Julie: Thank you

There is a temptation in every generation to believe that the spiritual life consists primarily in learning new methods, acquiring hidden knowledge, or discovering techniques that promise quick access to God. St. Isaac the Syrian gently dismantles this illusion. When he speaks of the deeper forms of prayer, he deliberately refuses to satisfy our curiosity. It is a remarkable act of humility. He knows that the mysteries of prayer cannot be communicated as information because they are received only as a gift. They belong not to those who seek extraordinary experiences but to those who have quietly consented to be transformed through long obedience. This restraint reveals something profoundly important. The deepest prayer is never mastered. It is given. One does not arrive there through spiritual cleverness but by allowing grace to accomplish its hidden work over time. “Sit in your cell,” the ancient saying declares, “and your cell will teach you everything.” The cell becomes the place where the restless search for novelty dies, where the heart gradually ceases to seek explanations and begins instead to seek only Christ Himself. For Isaac, stillness is therefore not an escape from the world but the creation of an interior space where the face of Christ can finally be seen without distortion. This is why he speaks so forcefully about abstention from many concerns. The problem is not simply that busyness consumes our time. Far more dangerously, it fragments our attention. It scatters the heart among a thousand anxieties until it loses the capacity to remain before the Lord with loving simplicity. How striking that Isaac does not first speak about outward activity but about the inability to remain “directly before the face of God.” The Christian life begins here. Before there is ministry, teaching, writing, service, or even ascetic labor, there is the gaze of love. The Father turns His face toward us in His Son, and little by little we learn to return that gaze. Prayer is not first our speaking to God but our remaining before Him long enough for His presence to heal what has been wounded within us. This changes the whole character of spiritual struggle. We often imagine that holiness is achieved by greater effort, tighter control, or stricter discipline. Certainly there is ascetic labor, and Isaac never minimizes it. Yet its purpose is not self-perfection. It is to remove whatever prevents us from remaining peacefully before Christ. The battle is not ultimately against activity itself but against everything that steals our attention from the One who alone can heal the heart. Only in such stillness do we begin to notice the subtle movements of the soul. Isaac says that the monk learns to distinguish “what enters into and what comes out” of him. Here we discover the extraordinary psychological and spiritual depth of the desert tradition. Before modern psychology attempted to map the interior world, the Desert Fathers had already entered its hidden landscape. They understood that thoughts, desires, fears, fantasies, and memories continually seek entrance into the heart. Unless one lives before the face of Christ, these movements remain confused and unexamined. But in the light of His countenance they become discernible. His gaze exposes nothing in order to condemn; it reveals everything in order to heal. This is why the entire ascetical life must remain Christ-centered. Stillness divorced from Christ easily becomes isolation. Silence without Christ becomes emptiness. Solitude without Christ can become merely another form of self-absorption. But when every moment of silence is filled with the awareness of His presence, stillness becomes communion. The heart is no longer occupied with itself but quietly captivated by the beauty of the Lord. Here, I believe, we begin to understand what I have called throughout these writings desire and wonder. As the heart becomes less driven by endless concerns, it does not become emotionally barren. Quite the opposite. It awakens. Desire is purified because it is no longer dispersed among countless lesser loves but gathered into a single longing for Christ. Wonder returns because His presence is never exhausted. Every moment before Him becomes fresh. Every prayer becomes an invitation into a mystery that can never be possessed, only received. Perhaps this is the hidden fruit of Isaac's refusal to explain the higher forms of prayer. He wishes to protect us from seeking experiences rather than seeking Christ. For if we truly stand before His face day after day, if we patiently guard the heart, if we willingly relinquish the tyranny of unnecessary concerns, then prayer itself will teach us. Not because we have become experts, but because Love Himself has become our teacher. In the end, the goal is beautifully simple. To become men and women whose hearts are no longer scattered but wholly gathered before the Face that has always been turned toward us. And in that Face we discover that every true desire finds its fulfillment, every fear loses its power, and wonder becomes the atmosphere in which the soul learns to live. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:04:23 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 218 mid paragraph 4 00:07:02 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-name-above-every-name 00:07:22 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 218 mid paragraph 4 00:10:21 Linda Frasier: may I share the link with a friend? 00:10:31 Janine: Father…whatever happened to the gentleman from New Zealand who used to join? 00:10:35 Linda Frasier: thx 00:11:03 Janine: His dad wasn't well 00:11:12 Janine: Yes I was wondering 00:11:53 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-name-above-every-name 00:12:39 Linda Frasier: already ordered Monastic Heart—arriving Monday!! 00:14:14 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-name-above-every-name 00:15:37 Janine: The baby has joined! 00:27:32 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 218, paragraph 5, bottom of page 00:37:26 Kate: Footnote 1 on page 219 is quite convicting! 00:40:13 Adam Paige: Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be, And when we find ourselves in the place just right, 'Twill be in the valley of love and delight. When true simplicity is gained, To bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed, To turn, turn will be our delight, Till by turning, turning we come 'round right. 00:58:25 Bob Čihák, AZ: Re: story of Martha and Mary taking the “better path”: Christ doesn't specify what that better path might be. Many, including St. Augustine, say that it's the path of contemplation. I think it could be that “the better path” is the path for that person fulfilling the will of God, in that place, at that time. We all have different immediate paths to take, at different times. Obviously, Martha earned Christ's gentle rebuke which to me suggests that she should consider that her role at that time and place might be providing hospitality. 01:06:19 Nancy Pagan: Why if we can learn by ourselves some desert fathers insist in having a staret?I I really believe we can but I should not trust myself that way? 01:06:27 Nancy Pagan: Sorry 01:07:22 Lee Graham: “Without  distractions the devil has no means of entering the soul” the footnote #1 01:13:29 Art: I gain a lot of peace of heart and mind from the Benedictine motto “to work is to pray”.  I've also seen “Prayer is my work”. Work is my prayer”.  It helps me accept whatever it is I need to do 01:13:42 David Swiderski: In loving one another's God is us is made flesh. Simple not complicates but I have this written on my bedroom door because I forget and it has guided me for years. I rise and remember to be simple and the goal clear in the day. I think less words help the most as my grandfather left with me as a high school education tut taught me more than Aquinas or any spiritual father. As my mother said love few and profoundly. As I age I find all the answers where at my hands but I got lost at some times in my life. 01:13:53 James Hickman: Father, is there any distinction between unadulterated entertainment vs perhaps a cultural experience by watching a series or movie not too different from sitting down to read a novel or go to a play performed live? It might be an opportunity for leisure. I think of PBS Masterpiece where I can watch a high quality production of Les Miserables or The Count of Monte Cristo and ponder mysteries of forgiveness or the vices in my life. Certainly I'm not saying this is of greater value than spending two hours in stillness. I'm maybe admitting my weakness here, but I do wonder: is there a place for this in my life? Are there any good distractions? In moderation? 01:17:58 David Swiderski: Amen seeking beauty and what is good shapes our lives and our goals. 01:18:47 James Hickman: I breathe a sigh of relief

The Fathers never speak of the spiritual life as though it were merely the acquisition of virtues or the mastery of disciplines. At its heart, it is the slow awakening of a human being who learns once again to see. The battlefield is not first the world around us but the hidden kingdom within us. It is there, in the silence of the heart, that every thought seeks entrance, every desire asks for consent, and every movement of the soul quietly bends either toward God or away from Him. It is therefore no accident that this section of the Evergetinos begins with the conscience. The Fathers do not present conscience as a private opinion, nor as a passing feeling of guilt or innocence. They speak of it as “nature's book,” a living text written by the Creator Himself within the human heart. Before there were libraries, before there were theological treatises, before there were even spiritual fathers to guide us, God had already inscribed His law upon the depths of our being. The conscience remains that quiet witness which never ceases to speak, even when every other voice has fallen silent. St. Maximos therefore urges us not to despise it. Every time we ignore that gentle movement toward truth, every time we silence its warnings because they are inconvenient or uncomfortable, we do not simply reject an inner feeling. We reject a gift through which God Himself seeks to lead us. Yet the Fathers also understand that conscience is not formed automatically. Like every faculty of the soul, it can become clouded through neglect, distorted through the passions, or nearly inaudible beneath the constant noise of our own thoughts. Thus prayer and conscience belong together. A purified conscience gives birth to pure prayer, while genuine prayer steadily purifies the conscience. Each heals and strengthens the other until the heart gradually becomes transparent before God. This is why the Fathers place such extraordinary emphasis upon vigilance. The ascetic life is not one of anxious self-analysis but of loving attentiveness. One learns to ask, “From where has this thought arisen? Toward whom does it lead me? Does it draw me toward Christ, toward humility, toward peace, toward love, or does it leave me agitated, suspicious, self-absorbed, fearful, or filled with hidden resentment?” Such questions are not psychological exercises. They are acts of spiritual discernment. How beautiful that the Evergetinos allows us here to hear the voice of St. Synkletike. Her presence reminds us that the wisdom of the desert is not confined to the fathers alone. The mothers stand beside them as equal witnesses to the Gospel lived with radical seriousness. Their lives reveal dimensions of spiritual perception that enrich the whole Church. To hear Synkletike is to hear a mother whose authority has been forged in prayer, suffering, and long experience of the hidden warfare of the heart. Her image of the ship is unforgettable. Storms from without may batter the vessel, yet the greater danger often lies beneath the surface, where unnoticed water slowly fills the hold while everyone sleeps. So too the Christian is often preoccupied with visible temptations, external conflicts, and the sins of the world, while paying little attention to the quiet accumulation of interior movements that slowly weigh down the soul. A single grievance carefully preserved, a subtle spirit of self-importance, an unnoticed judgment against another, a conversation endlessly replayed within the imagination—these may appear insignificant, yet left unattended they become the hidden water that eventually sinks the ship. The modern elders speak with precisely the same realism. St. Sophrony taught that every thought should first be brought before Christ before it is welcomed into the heart. Elder Aimilianos describes the spiritual life as learning to stand watch over the entrance of the heart with peaceful sobriety. Elder Thaddeus reminds us that “our thoughts determine our lives,” not because thoughts possess magical power, but because every thought eventually shapes the disposition of the heart from which all our actions flow. The enemy rarely begins by demanding great sins. He is content to suggest one small thought that is entertained rather than examined, one interior conversation that slowly becomes an identity, one fear that quietly replaces trust in God. The Desert Fathers therefore become extraordinary physicians of attention. They teach us that the first victory is often not found in dramatic acts of asceticism but in recognizing a thought before it becomes a passion. The battle is won while the spark is still small, before it has become a consuming fire. Yet all of this vigilance must be understood correctly. It is never a turning inward born of fear. The goal is not endless introspection. The Fathers are not asking us to become preoccupied with ourselves but to become increasingly available to Christ. We guard the heart because it has become His dwelling place. We examine our thoughts because we desire that His voice, rather than every competing voice, might become the one we recognize most readily. Perhaps this is why Abba Bessarion's final words were that the monk should become “all eyes.” He was not describing suspicion but wakefulness. He envisioned a heart so illumined by grace that nothing enters unnoticed and nothing is judged apart from the light of Christ. In our own age, this teaching may be more urgent than ever. Never has the human heart been so relentlessly surrounded by competing voices, endless images, constant information, and unceasing commentary. Discernment has become one of the greatest ascetical tasks of our generation. We must learn once again to distinguish between the voice of conscience and the voice of shame, between the prompting of the Holy Spirit and the agitation of fear, between divine conviction and the endless accusations of the evil one. Only a heart that has grown quiet through prayer can make such distinctions. And perhaps that is where the Evergetinos gently leaves us. Not with fear of the battle, but with hope. God has not abandoned us to navigate these waters alone. He has placed within us the witness of conscience. He has given us the wisdom of the Fathers and Mothers. He has surrounded us with the prayers of the saints. Above all, He has given us His own Spirit, who patiently teaches us to recognize His voice amid every other voice. The vigilant heart is not merely watchful. It is a heart that has learned whom it is listening for. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:01:11 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 52 saying 5 00:07:28 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/coming-soon-the-name-above-every-name 00:08:08 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 52 saying 5 00:12:59 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/coming-soon-the-name-above-every-name 00:15:22 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 52 saying 5 00:16:17 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/coming-soon-the-name-above-every-name 00:28:30 Una: Can you give an example? 00:28:44 Una: Of acting with conscience in a difficult situation. 00:32:01 Janine:

There is a temptation when reading the closing section of Homily 17 to see it as little more than a long list of prohibitions. Do not quarrel. Do not lie. Speak little. Avoid pride. Flee idle disputes. Endure injustice. Keep away from the powerful. Be moderate. At first glance, it can seem as though Isaac is describing a life of relentless restraint. Yet nothing could be further from his intention. The asceticism Isaac describes is never an end in itself. It is not a spiritual achievement, nor a demonstration of discipline. It is medicine. Every command is given for one purpose alone: to heal the heart until it can see again. The passions do not simply lead us into sin; they cloud our vision. Anger, pride, gluttony, argumentativeness, ambition, and constant speech scatter the soul. They fragment our attention until we can no longer perceive the quiet movements of grace. We remain busy with ourselves while becoming strangers to the Kingdom already present within us. This is why Isaac warns so carefully about seemingly ordinary things. Much talk extinguishes the noetic movements of the heart. Pride drives away the gentle energy of the Holy Spirit. Endless disputes over doctrine can become more about victory than truth. Even legitimate concerns can consume the heart until it loses its capacity for wonder. Asceticism, then, is not primarily about saying no. It is about making room for a greater yes. As the heart is purified, something extraordinary begins to emerge. Desire awakens—not the restless desire that seeks to possess, but the deep longing placed within us by God from the beginning. Wonder returns. The world ceases to be merely useful or threatening and becomes transparent to divine love. We begin to recognize that every act of humility, every silence embraced, every injury patiently endured is quietly removing another veil from the eyes of the heart. Then Isaac arrives at the astonishing conclusion toward which the entire homily has been moving: “Your soul will see the light of Christ in herself.” This is not poetic exaggeration. Nor is it a mystical privilege reserved for a few extraordinary souls. It is the destiny of every human being. The One whom we have sought in prayer, in Scripture, in the sacraments, and in the wilderness is discovered dwelling within the heart itself. The ascetical life has not brought Christ near; it has healed our blindness so that we may finally behold the One who has never departed. Here desire reaches its fulfillment. Wonder is no longer merely a response to creation but to the Creator living within His creature. Love recognizes Love. The heart discovers that beneath all its restless searching there has always been an eternal Presence waiting in silence. The Desert Fathers never practiced asceticism because they despised the world. They practiced it because they longed to see. Every fast, every vigil, every hidden act of humility was an act of hope that the eyes of the heart might become clear enough to behold Christ shining from within. Perhaps this is why Isaac ends not with another command but with a promise. The goal is not a perfectly disciplined life. The goal is a luminous heart. For when the heart is healed, it does not merely believe that Christ dwells within. It begins to see Him there. And in that vision, desire finds its home, wonder becomes ceaseless, and the soul enters even now into the eternal light that can never again be overcome by darkness. --- Text of chat during the group:   00:02:13 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/philokalia-ministries-summer-retreat 00:10:02 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/where-silence-learns-to-speak   00:11:13 Larry Ruggiero: Can you send the ISBN# of the book you are reading from. I'm having a difficult time following in my book translated by Nun Christina   00:11:35 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Above link is the Charter for City a Desert Press   00:13:17 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 216 para 7 mid paragraph   00:15:34 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/where-silence-learns-to-speak   00:29:23 James Hickman: Father, no disagreement here, but could you please share a few concrete examples of what Saint Isaac means by “something pertaining to the soul”? I can see why we don't want to hurt the soul. What does Isaac have in mind that pertains to the soul though?   00:33:23 James Hickman: Thank you   00:46:01 Maureen Cunningham: I put an icon in my car when get urge for fries I look at the Icon of the Holy Face of Jesus   00:46:57 paul g.: ✔️   00:47:42 James Hickman: The Thomistic Institue just released a podcast recording of a retreat talk on forgiveness by Fr. Andrew Hofer, OP, where he reminds us of the patristic interpretation of the fatted calf as Christ. The saints denied themselves of delicious food because they've tasted and seen how good and sweet the Lord is. Far tastier than any food made by human hands is the Fatted Calf.   00:52:57 Maureen Cunningham: Not passed by FDA only baby product   00:53:49 Rebecca Thérèse: Is the supplement research conducted by pharmaceutical companies?   01:04:38 Erick Chastain: this set of passages seems to make the argument you should not often be on social media   01:17:09 John ‘Jack': They sanctify us   01:20:59 Joan Chakonas: I used to seek truth in economics and current events back in my secular days- but upon finding my faith I know Seeking truth with the help of the desert fathers is all i ever needed   01:21:07 Julie: Thank you Father

Fr. Mauritius Wilde explores how St. Benedict and the Desert Fathers teach us to recognize temptation and respond with the power of Scripture and the Holy Spirit. The post HR 18 – Fighting The Demons – The Holy Rule of St. Benedict with Fr. Mauritius Wilde O.S.B – Discerning Hearts Podcasts appeared first on Discerning Hearts Catholic Podcasts.

Fr. Mauritius Wilde explores how St. Benedict and the Desert Fathers teach us to recognize temptation and respond with the power of Scripture and the Holy Spirit. The post HR 18 – Fighting The Demons – The Holy Rule of St. Benedict with Fr. Mauritius Wilde O.S.B – Discerning Hearts Podcasts appeared first on Discerning Hearts Catholic Podcasts.

Nazareth and the Hidden Life Retreat Reflection III The Silence of Nazareth and the False Self Epigraph “He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause His voice to be heard in the street.” — Isaiah 42:2 “Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” — Abba Moses the Black ⸻ One of the most frightening things about silence is that eventually it begins to tell the truth. At first silence feels peaceful to us because we imagine it as relief from noise, pressure, and obligation. We dream of quiet places, slower days, hidden monasteries, cabins in the woods, empty churches, long evenings without interruption. We imagine silence as rest. And sometimes it is. But if a person remains within silence long enough, another dimension begins to emerge. The distractions weaken. The constant stimulation subsides. The usual methods of self-maintenance no longer function in the same way. And gradually hidden things begin to surface: anxiety, fantasy, anger, loneliness, grief, resentment, compulsions, memories, self-hatred, and the deep fear of being nobody. This is why so many people flee silence almost immediately. 1 Not because they hate peace. But because silence exposes the instability of the self we have constructed. The fathers understood this profoundly. When the Desert Fathers speak about entering the cell, they are not romanticizing solitude. The cell is not merely a room. It is the place where illusions begin to collapse. A man enters silence expecting holiness and instead encounters himself. The hidden passions rise into consciousness. The noise within becomes audible. One begins to discover how fragmented the heart truly is. And yet the fathers insist: remain there. Do not flee. Do not panic. Do not construct a new image of yourself. Do not despair. Remain. Modern humanity finds this extraordinarily difficult because we live in an age almost entirely organized around avoiding interior exposure. Noise surrounds us constantly. Even solitude has become saturated with stimulation. A person can sit alone for hours without ever truly entering silence because the mind remains flooded with images, conversations, music, scrolling, distraction, fantasy, and self-construction. The modern self is rarely still enough to encounter itself honestly. And this has profound spiritual consequences because much of what we call “identity” is actually performance. We learn gradually to create versions of ourselves for different audiences: competent selves, religious selves, intellectual selves, desirable selves, successful selves, helpful selves, wounded selves, 2 special selves. Some of these identities become so deeply ingrained that we no longer recognize them as constructions. We experience them instead as who we are. But silence threatens these structures. This is one reason hidden life feels so unsettling. The ego survives partly through reflection from others. We know ourselves through response, recognition, affirmation, usefulness, accomplishment, attention, and comparison. Hiddenness interrupts these reinforcements. The false self begins to weaken because fewer mirrors remain available to sustain it. And this weakening often feels initially like death. A person may enter a quieter life expecting peace and instead encounter profound restlessness: the urge continually to check, to speak, to explain oneself, to seek affirmation, to fantasize, to escape, to become visible again somehow. The fathers would not be surprised by this. They knew that much human activity functions defensively. We remain busy not only because life requires labor, but because movement protects us from encountering our deeper poverty. Constant activity allows the ego to preserve itself through usefulness and distraction. Nazareth dismantles this slowly. The hidden Christ remains almost entirely outside visibility. He does not announce Himself continually. He does not seek recognition. He does not construct identity through public affirmation. The silence of Nazareth becomes a revelation of divine humility itself. This is deeply threatening to the ego because the ego wants to secure existence through visibility. To be unseen feels almost like annihilation. 3 This is especially true in modern technological culture where visibility itself has become a form of psychological survival. Many people now experience themselves largely through presentation. Identity becomes increasingly externalized: how one appears, how one is perceived, how one performs, how one is received. And thus silence becomes terrifying because it removes the external reinforcement through which the self remains stabilized. The fathers call us into something radically different. Not the destruction of personality. Not emotional emptiness. Not passivity. But the gradual surrender of the false self built upon performance, fantasy, comparison, and self-construction. This surrender is painful because the false self often develops precisely to protect vulnerability. Human beings construct identities partly to avoid shame, helplessness, rejection, and dependency. The ego creates structures through which the person feels more secure, more admirable, more protected from exposure. But these structures also isolate us. One cannot truly love while continually performing. Nor can one encounter God deeply while remaining hidden behind spiritual self- constructions. This is why the saints become so simple. Not simplistic. Simple. The fragmentation gradually diminishes. The inner divisions weaken. One no longer needs continually to present oneself, justify oneself, or maintain identity 4 through performance. There emerges instead a quieter, poorer, more transparent way of existing before God. The path toward this simplicity is rarely dramatic. Usually it unfolds through hidden humiliations. The failure that exposes our weakness. The years that dismantle our fantasies. The obscurity that wounds vanity. The prayer that feels empty. The relationships that reveal our selfishness. The repetitive duties that strip away grandiosity. The hidden life that slowly confronts us with ourselves. This is why Nazareth matters so profoundly. Christ enters fully into hidden existence without resistance. He consents to ordinariness. He consents to gradualness. He consents to years that appear outwardly uneventful. The eternal Logos lives within silence, labor, family life, repetition, and obscurity. And in doing so, He sanctifies the very places where the ego most resists dying. Many people secretly believe holiness should feel emotionally elevated or spiritually impressive. But often the deeper work of God feels instead like simplification. One becomes less dramatic internally. Less fascinated with oneself. Less dependent upon emotional intensity. Less driven by comparison. Less hungry to secure identity through being exceptional. This can feel disappointing initially because the ego experiences simplification as diminishment. But in reality it is liberation. The soul slowly discovers the freedom of no longer needing to construct itself continually before others. This is why the fathers speak so highly of hiddenness. Not because hiddenness itself is magical, but because hiddenness deprives the ego of many of its usual methods of self-preservation. The soul gradually learns to exist more directly before God rather than through performance. 5 And perhaps this is one reason modern people find ordinary hidden life so difficult: it confronts us with the terrifying possibility that we are loved not because we are impressive, visible, productive, or extraordinary, but simply because God is merciful. That kind of love dismantles the false self completely. For if I do not need to earn existence through performance, if I do not need to secure myself continually through recognition, if I do not need to become extraordinary in order to matter, then I can begin at last simply to remain before God truthfully. This is the silence of Nazareth. Not emptiness. Not absence. Communion without spectacle. And perhaps the hidden years of Christ reveal that the deepest transformation often occurs not when we become extraordinary, but when we finally stop trying to save ourselves through the images we construct.

Does the busyness of your life make it hard to actually slow down and connect with Jesus? Do your priorities feel jumbled? Does your spiritual life feel more like a checklist than a relationship? Friend, this series is for you. We're kicking off a brand new six-week summer series called Spiritual Rhythms, and I am so excited about this one — especially because I get to do it with my dear friend Rev. Rachel, who brings so much wisdom, church history, and joy into every conversation. Here's the core idea we're going to come back to every single week: right pace creates right perspective. The pace of your life is not just a productivity issue — it's a spiritual one. When we're running too fast, we lose perspective. And without perspective, we lose peace. And without peace? We lose access to the very life Jesus came to give us. We start today by going all the way back to the fourth century — to the Desert Fathers and Mothers, who looked around at a culture using the language of Christianity for political power and said, this is not what we see in the life of Jesus. And so they built something completely counter-cultural: lives deliberately shaped around the values, practices, and rhythms of Jesus himself. Sound familiar? Because honestly, the questions they were asking then are the same ones we need to be asking now. We also sit with two of the most inviting passages in all of Scripture. Jesus in Matthew 11, saying "Are you tired, worn out, burned out on religion? Come to me... learn the unforced rhythms of grace." And Jesus in John 15 — "I am the vine, you are the branches... separated from me, you can't produce a thing." These aren't just encouragements. They're an invitation to an entirely different way of living. And we close with one of the most beautiful sentences ever written — St. Augustine's prayer: "You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless till they find their rest in You." Some of the old school stuff really is just the best. Check out my free download to walk through these practices together:https://nicoleunice.kit.com/spiritualpractices Reflection Questions: Take a minute to think about the pace of your own life. What do you notice? What does the way you spend your time say about what you care about most? Is there any aspect of your life that feels overwhelming right now? How would you describe your life with God right now? If you could change something about your schedule, what would it be? This is part of our Summer Rythmns series which originally aired in 2023 Discover more Christian podcasts at lifeaudio.com and inquire about advertising opportunities at lifeaudio.com/contact-us.

Send us Fan Mail

In week eight of Above All Else, a series on the heart and the seven deadly sins, Grant Clark explores gluttony. Drawing on Proverbs, John 6, and the unforgettable image of Augustus Gloop tumbling into Willy Wonka's chocolate river, Grant argues that gluttony is not fundamentally about food but about a disordered appetite in the heart that cannot say "enough." He then points us to Jesus, the Bread of Life, as the only one who truly and lastingly satisfies."Gluttony is a third car when one will do, a third drink when one is best, a third hobby when the other two you started aren't satisfying enough. Alcoholics and drug users are gluttons, but so are some web surfers, card players, and businesspeople. In other words, '-aholic' is the suffix attached to the glutton's meal of choice, for gluttony is immoderation, and immoderation is not about having body fat; it's about having a gaunt soul." - Jeff Cook, SevenWhat gluttony is (and isn't):- Gluttony is not simply eating too much; it is any appetite that refuses to say no, not yet, or enough- Thomas Aquinas: gluttons eat "too soon, too expensively, too much, too eagerly, or with too much finicky fussing about... food"- The Desert Fathers: gluttony is not fundamentally about food; it is about the heart. Food simply reveals the deeper issue- Gluttony is about MORE: the pattern that shows up in our spending, our shopping, our screens, our stuffGluttony in our culture:- 26% of Americans spend more than they earn (highest level ever recorded)- 90 million Americans use buy-now-pay-later services; 40% of purchases are regretted within days- People buy 60% more clothing than 15 years ago and wear each item only 7-10 times before discarding it- Global viewers consumed over 2.43 billion hours of YouTube every single day in 2025- Humanity now consumes the equivalent of 1.7 Earths' worth of resources every yearGluttony and the heart - John 6:- The crowd who followed Jesus across the sea came to him not because of who he is, but because of what he gave them: "you are looking for me... because you ate the loaves and were filled"- "They were moved not by full hearts, but by full bellies." - Leon Morris- "The young man who rings the bell at the brothel is unconsciously looking for God." - Bruce Marshall- "The greatest enemy of hunger for God is not poison but apple pie. It is not the banquet of the wicked that dulls our appetite for heaven, but endless nibbling at the table of the world. It is not the X-rated video, but the prime-time dribble of triviality we drink in every night." - John Piper- Jesus's response: "I am the bread of life. No one who comes to me will ever be hungry, and no one who believes in me will ever be thirsty again." (John 6:35)From gluttony to self-control - fasting:- Fasting is abstaining from food so that we might pray; when hunger pangs come, we turn to God rather than the fridge- "Fasting reveals the things that control us." - Richard Foster- Dallas Willard: "Very little of our being lies under the direction of our conscious minds and very little of our action runs from our thoughts and consciously chosen intentions. Our mind on its own is an extremely feeble instrument... If we are to be transformed, the body must be transformed."- Fasting disrupts our automatic habits and retrains us to hunger for God, not the table of the world- Challenge: practice 24 hours of fasting this week (sundown to supper), using meal times to pray and read ScriptureVerses referenced:Proverbs 4:23Proverbs 21:17, 20 (CSB)John 6:24-26John 6:27John 6:33-35Philippians 3:18-19Mark 8:34Matthew 6:161 Corinthians 10:31

We talk with award-winning author Tish Harrison Warren about how to navigate burnout and weariness. Two-thirds of Americans are dissatisfied with their work, and a sense of languishing is widespread. Many of us feel overwhelmed, spiritually dry, and filled with doubts… about our faith and about our place in this world.In her new book, What Grows in Weary Lands: On Christian Resilience (Convergent/Random House, 2026) Tish Warren draws from both her own season of exhaustion and the rich well of Christian tradition — particularly that of the earliest Christian monks — to discover the habits and mindsets that anchor us, give us resilience, and offer us hope.We discuss:* Tish was very busy after becoming a best-selling author. She was writing for the New York Times and Christianity Today as well as her next book. But she came to a place of burnout, when she became spiritually dry. She stopped all that writing and went off social media in order to explore how to get through these difficult times. She tells us what she learned in that time.* The things that make us weary are usually the good things in life, what Thomas Aquinas called “arduous goods.”* When we experience dryness and weariness, we choose to escape that through scrolling or binge-watching. But the Desert Fathers and Mothers chose to live in the deserts of Egypt, Palestine, and Syria. We can learn a lot from them as they struggle with the “dark night of the soul,” to find a deeper, more satisfying faith in God. Scroll down to learn more about Tish Harrison Warren.Thanks for listening!If you enjoyed this podcast, please share it with your friends!Your hosts are Dr. Bob Robinson and David Loughney. For further resources on reintegrating all of life with God's mission, go to re-integrate.org.Tish Harrison WarrenTish Harrison Warren is a writer and an Anglican priest. She is the author of several books, including Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices in Everyday Life, which won Christianity Today‘s 2018 Book of the Year, and Prayer in the Night: For Those Who Work, or Watch, or Weep, which won Christianity Today‘s 2022 Book of the Year and the 2022 ECPA Christian Book of the Year.She formerly wrote a weekly newsletter for The New York Times, which focused on faith in public discourse and private life. She was also a columnist for Christianity Today. Her articles and essays have appeared in Comment Magazine, The Point Magazine, Religion News Service and elsewhere.She currently serves as the C. S. Lewis Theological Writer-in-Residence for the Anglican Episcopal House of Studies at Baylor's George W. Truett Theological Seminary. She is a senior fellow with The Trinity Forum. She and her husband Jonathan recently planted Immanuel Anglican Church. She lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband and three children.Where to purchase these books: Support independent booksellers! Purchase any of the books mentioned above from Byron and Beth Borger at Hearts & Minds Bookstore. They are eager to serve God's people with great books. Order online through their secure server or call 717-246-3333. Ask for 20% OFF by mentioning that you heard about these books on the Reintegrate Podcast! Get full access to Bob Robinson's Substack at bobrobinsonre.substack.com/subscribe

This is a reading for meditation of selected teachings/sayings of the Desert Mothers, taken from 'Apophthegmata Patrum' (Sayings of the Desert Fathers & Mothers) translated by Benedicta Ward; and Philokia: compiled in the eighteenth century by Macarius of Corinth (1731-1805). The teachings spoken here are from the Mothers - Amma Theodora, Amma Syncletica and Amma Sarah.The Desert Mothers lived primarily in the fourth and fifth centuries, withdrawing to the arid regions of the eastern Mediterranean at a time when Christianity had become legally protected and increasingly institutionalized. Like their male counterparts, they sought the desert as a place of stripping away — a landscape where distractions fell silent and the soul was exposed before God.Some lived in loose monastic communities; others inhabited abandoned tombs, caves, or simple mud-brick cells. Their days were shaped by prayer, fasting, manual labor, and long periods of silence. Water was scarce, food minimal, and illness common. The desert was not romantic — it was a place of bodily weakness and spiritual testing.They were called ammas, meaning “mothers,” a title that conveyed both intimacy and authority. This was not sentimental language. To be an amma was to be recognized as someone whose life had been tested and whose counsel could be trusted.

Geoff continues talking with regular guest David Clayton about how the Desert Fathers and Mothers understood sin as discorder (of all kinds) and how asceticism was a path toward freedom to love God and others. They discuss sin not merely as rule-breaking but as patterns that impair clear seeing, free choosing, and loving well. Asceticism is presented as training that frees the heart by reshaping habits, while emphasizing grace, mercy, and the hope to “begin again” each day. They particularly focus on the concept of "watchfulness" and the neuroscience of "paying attention." Dive deeper in our new book, Landscapes of the Soul: How the Science and Spirituality of Attachment Can Move You into Confident Faith, Courage, and Connection, and learn about our trainings and other resources at embodiedfaith.life.Stay Connected: Check out our Attaching to God 6-Week Learning Cohort.Join the Embodied Faith community to stay connected and get posts, episodes, & resources.Support the podcast with a one-time or regular gift (to keep this ad-free without breaking the Holsclaw's bank).

Too many Christians, Jerry Sittser says, sit at a banquet table and eat only one food. In this episode, host Tressa Spingler talks with theologian, historian, and author Dr. Jerry Sittser — professor emeritus of theology at Whitworth University — about the newly revised edition of his book Water from a Deep Well and the spiritual inheritance many believers overlook.Drawing on the monks' rhythm of life, the Desert Fathers and Mothers, the mystics, and the great tradition of historic orthodoxy, Sittser invites listeners to rediscover something ancient rather than chase something new. He reflects on inhabiting time rather than spending it, beginning the week with rest, the practice of silence (“get up to slow down”), and what the early church can still teach a hurried, distracted age.The conversation turns honest and personal as Sittser — who lost his wife and a daughter in an automobile accident — describes suffering not as something to overcome or avoid but as something to step into and find God within. It's an invitation to live in the tension of beauty and sorrow, and to take the small first steps toward a deeper, well-rooted faith.YOU WILL LEARNWhy so many Christians “eat only one food” — and what the full diet of historic Christianity offersHow a January course at a snowed-in mountain camp became the seed of Water from a Deep WellThe monks' gift of rhythm: inhabiting time instead of consuming it, and beginning the week with restThe Desert Fathers and Mothers — stranger, funnier, and wiser than they first appearUnion of relationship vs. union of absorption: a healthier way to read the mysticsSuffering as an inevitable part of discipleship — and the soul's capacity to hold beauty and sorrow at onceWhere to begin when you feel spiritually dry: small, meaningful, deep first stepsGUEST BIODr. Jerry Sittser is professor emeritus of theology and a senior fellow at Whitworth University in Spokane, Washington, specializing in the history of Christianity, Christian spirituality, and religion in American public life. The author of nine books — including A Grace Disguised, The Will of God as a Way of Life, Resilient Faith, and Water from a Deep Well — he has spent decades helping Christians recover the wisdom and deep roots of the historic church for everyday life.RESOURCES & LINKSJerry Sittser's website: https://www.jerrysittser.com/Water from a Deep Well (revised edition): https://www.jerrysittser.com/booksPracticing the Way podcast series with John Mark Comer: https://www.practicingtheway.org/podcasts/practicing-the-way More episodes & SLBF Studio at Upper House: https://slbf.org/studioSend us Fan MailCONNECT WITH USSubscribe to The UpWords Podcast wherever you listen to podcasts and visit slbf.org/studio to learn more about our work at the intersection of faith, the academy, and the marketplace.This episode was created by the SLBF STUDIO at Upper House.Produced by Daniel Johnson and Dave ConourEdited by Dave Conour

In this episode of Living Incense, Fr. Matthias Shehad explores the teachings of the Desert Fathers on the inner spiritual life. He discusses why true spirituality naturally leads to humility rather than superiority by likening it to washing away visible and hidden sins gradually. Fr. Matthias explains the difference between humility and low self-esteem, emphasizing the importance of acknowledging one's true self and relying on faith in God to avoid despair. He also highlights the challenge of stillness and solitude, drawing from monastic experiences to show how being alone with God fosters spiritual growth. The talk addresses spiritual hunger and the discipline required for prayer, even when it feels dry or difficult. Fr. Matthias connects loving God with loving one's neighbor and examines Christian love as a willing self-sacrifice, not coercion or victimhood. Finally, he reflects on the call to become “dead” to both praise and criticism through self-awareness and faith, following Christ's example. #DesertFathers #SpiritualHumility #ChristianPrayer #InnerLife #FrMatthiasShehad #MonasticWisdom #StPaulHouston #Coptic #FrMatthias Subscribe to us on YouTube https://youtube.com/stpaulhouston Like us on Facebook https://facebook.com/saintpaulhouston Follow us on SoundCloud https://soundcloud.com/stpaulhouston Follow us on Instagram https://instagram.com/stpaulhouston Visit our website for schedules and to join the mailing list https://stpaulhouston.org

In our ongoing series Above All Else, Grant Clark turns to the seventh and most misunderstood of the deadly sins: sloth. Far from simple laziness, sloth -- or acedia -- is a spiritual apathy and quiet resistance to Jesus that can live just as easily in the heart of the overachiever as in the one on the couch."Acedia is ultimately a failure of love. It's a place of apathy toward life and a kind of spiritual boredom... Whether midday, midlife, halftime or halfway through a big project, we're tempted to give in, give up or distract ourselves. Acedia tempts us to abandon the life we have for some imagined better option somewhere else -- as in 'anywhere but here'! Acedia can also be the temptation to live our lives in imagined fantasies of what might be rather than living in the gift of what is." - Alan Fadling (An Unhurried Life)What is acedia?- The Cambridge Dictionary defines sloth as "an unwillingness to work or to make any effort" -- but the biblical concept runs far deeper- Derived from the Greek a ("not") + keedos ("to care") -- acedia is a failure of love, a resistance to the transformation God is calling us into- Pope John Paul II defined acedia as "a sadness arising from the fact that the good is difficult"- It is not just laziness -- it is a selective laziness that can look like overwork, busyness, and productivity while neglecting the most important thingWhat does acedia look like?- The story of Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42): Martha was productive and active, but distracted from the one thing necessary -- attentiveness to Jesus- "Acedia is 'a restlessness that entices us to pursue everything but our most important duties. Acedia distracts. It makes us lazy and sluggish toward our spiritual and practical responsibilities. It is a selective laziness that makes everything else appealing.'" - John Cassian- "Slothful people are not only found lying around on couches or beds. They are often found in the gym every morning at 5:00 A.M., leading large organizations and companies, writing books, achieving goals, and even working hundred-hour weeks. Yes, the same sin can be at work in the heart of the person glued to the TV and the person who does not have time for TV. Christian thinkers have always seen links between laziness and overwork, though the definition of sloth has morphed through the years." - Trent Casto (The Death of the Deadly Sins)- Sloth wears many masks: variety-seeking, escapism, distraction, commitment-phobia, procrastination, and never finishing what we start- The "noonday demon" of the Desert Fathers -- the midday restlessness that whispers anywhere but here- Delayed obedience: like Augustine's prayer, "Lord, give me chastity and self-control -- but not yet"- Acedia is avoiding the responsibilities that loving God and loving neighbor require - Trent CastoFrom sloth to zeal (Romans 12:11)- "Do not be slothful in zeal. Be fervent in spirit. Serve the Lord." (ESV) / "Do not lack diligence in zeal. Be fervent in spirit. Serve the Lord." (CSB)- Zeal = earnest commitment with haste and diligence; fervent = to boil, to burn -- a passion for Jesus- The word diligent in Latin (diligere) means "to love" -- to be diligent in zeal is to love- "Look at the intensity in this verse. The Christian life is neither cold nor indifferent... We face many temptations to be passive or lazy today. So let's heed this word: live on fire for Christ! And let's see that God is gracious in giving us such a command. He knows our frames. He knows our passions can cool. So he exhorts us in love. I believe every Christian in a privileged part of the world must always ask, 'Do I love comfort too much? Has it become an idol? Has it caused me to shrink back from passionate service to the Lord Jesus?'" - Tony Merida- "Since acedia is a failure to appreciate the gifts of the present moment or the present season, the classic remedy for acedia has always been to abide in the good relationships and to engage in the good work before us." - Alan Fadling- Practical response: (1) Obey straight away -- identify and repent of any area of delayed obedience; (2) Abide -- stay where God has placed you, persevere in the ordinary, and trust that God is at workVerses- Proverbs 4:23- Luke 10:38-42 (CSB)- Luke 10:40- Romans 12:11 (ESV + CSB)- Ephesians 2:8-10- Hebrews (for the joy set before him, he endured the cross)- Psalm 72

In this episode, Fr. Matthias Shehad explores teachings from the Desert Fathers on self-awareness and spiritual growth. Fr. Matthias discusses why worldly pursuits often fail to satisfy the heart, using King Solomon's reflections in Ecclesiastes to illustrate the emptiness of earthly pleasures. He emphasizes the importance of keeping God at the center of all relationships and activities to maintain balance and avoid attachment to created things. Fr. Matthias explains the distinction between temptation and sin, highlighting that temptation is inevitable but falling into sin is a choice. He delves into the ongoing struggle of faith, underscoring the need for continual repentance and reliance on God's mercy rather than personal perfection. Drawing from St. Paul's example, he reflects on how weakness and temptation strengthen faith and guard against pride. This conversation also looks at the role of obedience, experience, and inner reflection in developing spiritual maturity and addresses the difficulty many face in embracing silence and confronting troubling thoughts. #DesertFathers #SpiritualGrowth #ChristianTemptation #FaithStruggle #SelfAwareness #FrMatthiasShehad #StPaulHouston #Coptic #FrMatthias Subscribe to us on YouTube https://youtube.com/stpaulhouston Like us on Facebook https://facebook.com/saintpaulhouston Follow us on SoundCloud https://soundcloud.com/stpaulhouston Follow us on Instagram https://instagram.com/stpaulhouston Visit our website for schedules and to join the mailing list https://stpaulhouston.org

What sustains faith when prayer feels flat and God seems distant—and there's no clear tragedy to explain it? Anglican priest and former New York Times columnist Tish Harrison Warren joins Macie Bridge to talk about weariness, burnout, and the quiet middle stretches of a long spiritual life. Drawing on her new book What Grows in Weary Lands, she turns to the Desert Fathers and Mothers for a resilience that resists both flaming out and numbing out. "It felt like the call had dropped, like the line had gone dead." In this episode with Macie Bridge, Warren reflects on her own season of spiritual aridity and the ancient counsel to stay in your cell rather than escape. Together they discuss the difference between burnout and weariness, acedia and the noonday demon, perseverance, silence as countercultural practice, and the world as a womb. They explore why escape rarely heals and what it means to trust the slow work of God. Episode Highlights "It felt like the call had dropped, like the line had gone dead." "I do not think vitamin D will solve what I'm talking about." "We're not having to hold our life together in the midst of weariness with will power and duct tape." "We kind of bring Times Square with us wherever we go now." "God doesn't need me to be impressive or achieving." About Tish Harrison Warren Tish Harrison Warren is a writer and an Anglican priest. She is the author of Liturgy of the Ordinary, named Christianity Today's 2018 Book of the Year, and Prayer in the Night, which won both Christianity Today's 2022 Book of the Year and the 2022 ECPA Christian Book of the Year. She formerly wrote a weekly newsletter for The New York Times on faith in public and private life and was a columnist for Christianity Today; her essays have appeared in Comment, The Point, and Religion News Service. She currently serves as the C. S. Lewis Theological Writer-in-Residence at Baylor's Truett Seminary, is a senior fellow with The Trinity Forum, and an assisting priest at Immanuel Anglican Church. (Source: tishharrisonwarren.com) Learn more and follow at tishharrisonwarren.com, Instagram @tishharrisonwarren, and X @Tish_H_Warren. Helpful Links and Resources What Grows in Weary Lands (newest book): https://tishharrisonwarren.com/whatgrowsinwearylands Liturgy of the Ordinary (most popular book): https://tishharrisonwarren.com/liturgy-of-the-ordinary Curt Thompson, referenced on the brain and community: https://curtthompsonmd.com/books/ Show Notes Writing from the middle of the process Weariness vs. burnout—bigger than the occupational "It felt like the call had dropped, like the line had gone dead." Two years at The New York Times—top of a career, bone-tired Spiritually tinged exhaustion, distinct from depression Comprehensive difficulty—work, marriage, church, politics, drama Post-COVID burnout talk; why the church rarely names this Craving emotional highs in contemporary Christian faith We lack stories of long, steady faith "I do not think vitamin D will solve what I'm talking about." Discovering the Desert Fathers and Mothers Acedia, the noonday demon—sloth, boredom, irritation, doubt Flame out, numb out, or go deep The cell as guiding metaphor—a rhythm of prayer and work "Stay in your cell"—counsel of St. Moses and Arsenius Resisting the lie that escape elsewhere brings contentment "The cell is actually this transformative place." Curt Thompson: the brain isn't made to do hard things alone A desert mother's maternal metaphor—the world as a womb "What is happening right now matters"—hope without escapism Grace: "we're not having to hold our life together... with will power and duct tape." "Part of our weariness is it is too noisy. The world is too noisy." "God doesn't need me to be impressive or achieving." Trusting the slow work of God #TishHarrisonWarren #WhatGrowsInWearyLands #ChristianResilience #Burnout #DesertFathers #SpiritualFormation #Weariness #Acedia #Hope #ForTheLifeOfTheWorld Production Notes This podcast featured Tish Harrison Warren Interview by Macie Bridge Edited and Produced by Evan Rosa Hosted by Evan Rosa Production Assistance by Noah Senthil A Production of the Yale Center for Faith & Culture at Yale Divinity School https://faith.yale.edu/about Support For the Life of the World podcast by giving to the Yale Center for Faith & Culture: https://faith.yale.edu/give

In this conversation, Fr. Matthias Shehad explores the sayings of the Desert Fathers, focusing on silence as a vital spiritual practice. He explains who the Desert Fathers were, their dedication to monastic life in the desert, and how their wisdom applies to modern Christian living with discernment. Fr. Matthias discusses the balance between spiritual ambition and humility, the importance of guidance from a spiritual father, and how to approach others who may be progressing too quickly in their faith. He emphasizes silence not as avoidance but as an opportunity for inner reflection, prayer, and self-examination. The discussion also covers the dangers of inward judgment versus outward humility, the role of confession in cultivating self-awareness, and the challenge of maintaining authenticity amid external pressures like social media. Fr. Matthias highlights silence as a tool to foster deeper communion with God and to guard against pride and distraction. #DesertFathers #ChristianSilence #SpiritualWisdom #MonasticLife #Confession #InnerReflection #StPaulHouston #Coptic #FrMatthias Subscribe to us on YouTube https://youtube.com/stpaulhouston Like us on Facebook https://facebook.com/saintpaulhouston Follow us on SoundCloud https://soundcloud.com/stpaulhouston Follow us on Instagram https://instagram.com/stpaulhouston Visit our website for schedules and to join the mailing list https://stpaulhouston.org

The Desert Fathers knew something that many of us have forgotten. The greatest danger to the spiritual life is not always the obvious sins we can name. Often it is the secret satisfaction we feel when we discover the weakness of another. There is something in the fallen heart that delights in comparison. The moment another stumbles, we instinctively move ourselves a little higher. We become observers, commentators, judges, analysts. We speak about “discernment” while quietly nourishing condemnation. We discuss another's failures while remaining remarkably blind to our own. Abba Poimen cuts through all of this with terrifying simplicity: “Who am I? And judge no one.” That is the beginning of monasticism. It is also the beginning of Christianity. Notice how often the Fathers return to the same theme. A brother falls. Another brother is tempted. Someone has a concubine. Someone frequents the baths. Someone neglects his duties. Yet the holy elders are almost never interested in discussing the sin itself. They are interested in the response of those who witness it. The real question is not, “What did he do?” The real question is, “What happened in your heart when you saw it?” The Presbyter of Pelousion stripped eleven brothers of the schema because of their failures. Later his conscience tormented him. Why? Because he discovered something humiliating: the same old man lived in him. The same fallen nature. The same capacity for sin. The Fathers never deny the existence of sin. They deny our right to stand above sinners. That is an entirely different thing. Again and again the Fathers teach that when we expose another's wound, we expose our own. When we delight in uncovering another's failure, God permits us to see the sickness hidden within ourselves. Timothy advised that a tempted brother be expelled, and shortly afterward the very temptation he condemned descended upon him. Why? Because God wanted to punish him? No. Because God wanted to heal him. Nothing teaches compassion like discovering that the line between saint and sinner runs directly through one's own heart. The most moving story in this collection may be the one about the brother abandoned in the ravine. The anchorite's solution was simple: “Expel him.” Abba Poimen's solution was different. He sought him. He called him. He embraced him. He fed him. He restored hope to him. The brother had already condemned himself. He did not need another judge. He needed a father. The Church has never lacked judges. What she continually lacks are fathers. A father sees the wound beneath the sin. A father sees the despair beneath the failure. A father sees the battle that nobody else sees. And because he sees it, he goes after the lost sheep. The Fathers teach us something even more demanding than refusing to judge. They teach us to actively support the struggling brother. One brother tells Abba Poimen that he enjoys the company of virtuous men but avoids those with bad reputations. The Elder's answer is astonishing: “If you do a little good to the good one, you ought to do twice as much good to the one about whose sin you have heard.” Twice as much. Not less. Not avoidance. Not suspicion. Not gossip disguised as concern. Twice as much. Because he is sick. When someone is physically ill, we do not withdraw our care until they recover. We increase it. We visit them. We pray for them. We encourage them. We sit beside them. Why then do we often do the opposite when a brother becomes spiritually ill? The Fathers understood that perseverance is often sustained by hidden acts of mercy. A word of encouragement. A meal. A visit. A refusal to repeat a rumor. A willingness to believe that grace is still at work. A determination to remember the brother's dignity even while he struggles. Many vocations have been saved by such acts. Many have also been lost through their absence. St. Ephraim says elsewhere that we must never become the occasion for another's withdrawal from the brotherhood. Those words should terrify every monastery, every parish, every Christian community. Whenever someone leaves wounded, discouraged, or broken, the question should not merely be what happened to them. The question should also be what happened to us. Did we strengthen them? Did we encourage them? Did we bear their burden? Did we pray for them? Did we conceal their weakness and protect their dignity? Did we seek them when they wandered? Or did we stand at a safe distance discussing their failures? The saints are not those who never see sin. They are those who see it and respond with tears rather than judgment. They see a fallen brother and remember their own weakness. They see a wound and cover it. They see a sinner and move closer rather than farther away. In the end, this is exactly how Christ has treated us. Every one of us has been the brother in the ravine. Every one of us has been the sinner whose shame was visible to Heaven. And Christ did not expose us. He sought us. He embraced us. He fed us. He covered us. The closer a man comes to God, the less interested he becomes in revealing the wounds of others and the more eager he becomes to bind them up. That is the way of the Desert Fathers. It is also the way of Christ. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:14:24 Anna: My daughter is asking for an understanding on judging based on Desert Fathers 00:36:42 Maureen Cunningham: What if the person is abusive to you ? 00:37:01 Maureen Cunningham: Like an alcholic 00:39:41 Julie: Like instead of assuming the sleeping monk is lazy or spiritually weak, but really is he exhausted from spiritual struggles, fasts, etc… 00:42:40 forrest: Sorry for a late comment for #15: the Greek word for "cover up" is the same used in the Septuagint Exodus 12:13 for the Angel of God "passing by" the houses marked with blood. 01:04:05 Julie: The wanting to be loved and needed by others. Our passions are hard to cut 01:10:57 una: Wait, what about the baby? 01:17:03 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:17:19 Janine: Thank you

In this episode of That Would Be Rad, we dive headfirst into one of the strangest intersections of religion, history, folklore, and the modern UFO phenomenon.For decades, reports of mysterious craft and non-human intelligences have captured the imagination of millions. Governments investigate them. Fighter pilots report them. Entire belief systems have formed around them. But long before congressional hearings, Pentagon footage, and discussions about "non-human intelligence," a group of Orthodox Christian mystics and saints were issuing a very different warning.What if the phenomenon is real... but not extraterrestrial?Join Woody and Tyler as they explore the ancient world of Orthodox Christianity, the Desert Fathers, aerial spirits, Ezekiel's famous "wheel within a wheel" vision, the Nephilim, medieval encounters with strange beings in the sky, and the teachings of four influential Orthodox holy men who all arrived at a remarkably similar conclusion about UFOs.What We Talk About in This Episode:• Why UFOs and UAPs have suddenly become mainstream topics of discussion• The Pentagon, military encounters, and the rise of "non-human intelligence" conversations• What Orthodox Christianity actually is and why it differs from most forms of Christianity in America• The Desert Fathers, spiritual warfare, and the Orthodox tradition of discerning spirits• Ezekiel's bizarre vision and why UFO researchers have been fascinated by it for decades• The Nephilim, the Book of Enoch, and ancient stories of beings descending from the sky• Medieval encounters with faeries, aerial beings, and mysterious sky phenomena• St. Gabriel Urgebadze, St. Paisios of Mount Athos, St. Porphyrios, and Fr. Seraphim Rose• Why these four influential Orthodox figures all viewed UFO encounters through a spiritual lens• The fascinating idea that humanity may interpret the same unexplained phenomena differently depending on the culture and era• Whether modern UFO encounters are something entirely new—or simply the latest version of a mystery humans have been trying to explain for thousands of yearsWhy You NEED to Listen:Whether you're a skeptic, a believer, a Christian, an atheist, a UFO enthusiast, or just someone who loves exploring strange ideas, this episode is guaranteed to make you think.This isn't an episode about proving that aliens are demons.It's an exploration of one of the most fascinating questions we've ever discussed on the show:If something beyond human understanding really was interacting with humanity... would we even recognize it for what it truly is?So grab your Bible, your tinfoil hat, or maybe both—and join us as we venture into one of the weirdest rabbit holes we've explored in a long time.Be Rad.RAD WAYS YOU CAN SUPPORT OUR SHOW:JOIN OUR PATREON: Exclusive episodes, bonus content, and behind-the-scenes weirdness: patreon.com/thatwouldberadBUY US A COFFEE: Fuel our late-night research sessions — buymeacoffee.com/thatwouldberad ☕️CHECK OUT OUR MERCH: Grab official That Would Be Rad gear — thatwouldberad.myspreadshop.comSHOW INFO:

There are passages in the Fathers that do not merely instruct us. They unsettle us because they seem to speak from a place beyond ordinary language. This portion of St. Isaac the Syrian is one of them. He begins almost defensively, and yet with extraordinary tenderness: “I shall tell you something, and do not laugh, for I speak the truth.” That opening matters. Isaac knows what he is about to describe can sound excessive, mystical, even absurd to the outward or untested mind. He knows some will mock it. Others will reduce it to sentiment or pious exaggeration. He knows he is stepping into something difficult to articulate because the reality itself exceeds words. And yet he writes. That itself is striking. This costs him something. There is a deeply personal quality here. Isaac is not writing as one giving detached spiritual theory. He writes almost like a father speaking carefully about a mystery he knows language will diminish even as he tries to preserve it. Near the end of the homily he says plainly that he has “taken no little trouble to set these things down.” One feels the labor in that line. Not merely literary labor, but spiritual labor. He is trying to hand on something fragile and luminous to “every man who comes upon this book.” His desire to help souls outweighs the risk of being misunderstood. And what does he speak of? Tears. But not tears as emotional excess. Not tears as instability. Not tears as religious theater. He is speaking of something far deeper: the awakening of the inward man. Isaac says that until this inward fruit begins, much of our life remains outward. We may pray, labor, fast, study, serve, and yet still remain largely organized around the visible self. The hidden man may still be in service to the world. Then comes his astonishing image. When tears begin, the soul has “left the prison of this world.” Not the world itself. But its prison. That inward captivity of self, illusion, hardness, fragmentation, and outwardness. And then Isaac gives one of the most beautiful images in all ascetical literature: he speaks of the soul almost as an infant being born into another reality. As an infant in the womb first begins to draw subtle breath before entering this visible life, so the inward man, born of grace through the womb of Mother Church and quickened by the Spirit, begins to perceive another atmosphere. Another age. Another reality. Another air. He says the soul begins to breathe “that other air, new and wonderful.” This is breathtaking. For Isaac, tears are not simply sorrow. They are often the birth pangs of the spiritual child within us. Grace, whom he calls the common mother of all, labors to bring forth the divine image in the soul. And because the mind is unaccustomed to this new reality, the body itself may cry out. Tears become a kind of holy wailing, but “mingled with the sweetness of honey.” What language. He is trying to describe something almost impossible: sorrow joined to sweetness, pain joined to grace, birth joined to loss, tears joined to wonder. The modern mind often has little room for this. We understand tears psychologically. We understand grief. Exhaustion. Relief. But Isaac is speaking of something deeper than emotion. He is speaking of the Kingdom beginning to stir within. Of the Spirit crying out from depths beyond words. Of the soul awakening to a reality more real than the visible world. And yet Isaac remains sober. He is careful. He distinguishes passing consolation from deeper compunction. He warns, in effect, against reducing such things to passing feeling or spiritual excitement. He speaks of stillness, of peace of thought, of gradual transition, of hidden maturation. Even here he is restrained. That restraint matters. Because what makes this passage so beautiful is not ecstatic excess. It is tenderness joined to sobriety. Mystery joined to humility. Vision joined to caution. And perhaps most moving of all, Isaac writes not to exalt himself, but to serve. These things, he says, he has written for himself and for every man who comes upon this book. That line carries enormous tenderness. He writes as one who knows words cannot capture the fullness of what grace does, yet he offers them anyway so another soul may not lose courage. Perhaps that is why this passage still pierces us. It reminds us that the spiritual life is not merely moral effort, external correctness, or religious performance. It is birth. The slow birth of the inward man. The hidden awakening of the Kingdom. The Spirit crying from within us. And perhaps, however faintly, learning to breathe another air. The air of grace. The air of the age to come. The air of Christ. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:03:13 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 201 Homily 14 There are times in the spiritual life when a phrase begins as an image and slowly becomes a revelation. For some time now, the phrase Breathing the Same Air has remained with me. At first, it seemed to speak of something many of us deeply long for: to stand among those who thirst for Christ as the Desert Fathers did; to dwell within the same ascetic spirit, the same sobriety, the same inward hunger for purity of heart, prayer, and communion with God. But after returning to St. Isaac the Syrian, this phrase began to open more deeply. Perhaps breathing the same air is not first about standing among others who seek God. Perhaps it is about entering inwardly into the same atmosphere where the saints themselves learned to repent, to pray, to soften, and to become alive before God. 00:10:25 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: June 4 Week Retreat https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/nazareth-and-the-hidden-life 00:13:45 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 201 Homily 14 00:38:54 una: How is he using "laugh"? In the sense of disbelief? 00:45:04 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 201 second paragraph 00:53:30 Holly Hecker: (From Mark)   sometimes I see these attachments (or walls separating from God) is born from old wounds, old traumas, and these attachments are fears, acts of protection.  and tears arrive when trusting God and taking the walls of traumas down.  Maybe that is a different 'tears' but its a tear of new life. 00:54:02 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "(From Mark)   someti..." with

There is a fierce honesty in the Desert Fathers that can unsettle us if we read them too quickly. They never soften the reality of sin. They do not sentimentalize weakness. They do not pretend evil is harmless, nor do they collapse into the modern confusion that mercy means blindness or moral indifference. They knew too much of the violence of the passions, too much of self-deception, too much of how quickly the heart can justify itself while remaining far from God. And yet, what is striking in these sayings from the Evergetinos is this: the deeper they saw sin, the less willing they were to condemn sinners. This is not softness. It is revelation. The Fathers understood something we often miss: to truly see sin is to begin by seeing it in oneself. We are accustomed to thinking judgment arises from moral seriousness. The Fathers often show the opposite. Judgment frequently arises not from holiness, but from forgetfulness. We forget what we are. We forget how much of our life is sustained not by virtue, but by mercy. We forget that beneath our outward discipline, our religious language, our ordered routines, and even our ascetic efforts, there remains within us a heart capable of pride, lust, cruelty, envy, bitterness, and quiet violence. This is why Abba Agathon, when tempted to condemn another, said to himself: “Beware, lest you do the same thing.” That is not psychological pessimism. That is truth. The saint does not trust himself. Not because he despises himself, but because he has looked deeply enough into his own heart to know how fragile he is apart from grace. The negligent brother dying joyfully may be one of the most unsettling stories in this section. He had not distinguished himself by great ascetic effort. He had not become known for extraordinary fasting or visible zeal. Yet he died in peace because he could say something profound: I have not judged. I have not held a grudge. If I quarreled, I reconciled. And the Elder says something almost shocking: “You have been saved without effort, by not condemning others.” Not because asceticism is unimportant. But because the purpose of asceticism is love. What good is fasting if the heart remains hard? What good is prayer if we stand before God while inwardly prosecuting our neighbor? What good is discipline if mercy has not entered us? The Fathers knew that a man may be severe with himself and still cruel to others. Such severity is not holiness. It is often pride wearing religious clothing. Again and again, these stories reveal the same pattern. Abba Ammonas, seeing the woman accused of immorality, does not rush to impose punishment. He sees first her frailty, her danger, her humanity. He provides what may be needed for burial before speaking of penance. When another sinful brother hides a woman in a cask, Ammonas knowingly sits upon it, covering his shame rather than exposing him publicly. Then he simply grasps his hand and says: “Be attentive to yourself, Brother.” This is astonishing. The Fathers did not always correct by exposure. Sometimes they corrected by mercy. Sometimes the deepest rebuke was protection. Why? Because they understood something terrifying and beautiful: divine love does not deny truth, but neither does it delight in humiliation. How often we do the opposite. We call it “clarity,” but sometimes it is disguised satisfaction. We expose, denounce, criticize, analyze, and condemn because another's fall secretly strengthens our own illusion of righteousness. The Fathers tear this illusion apart. Abba Moses enters the council carrying a basket filled with sand, the grains pouring out behind him. His words remain among the most piercing in all ascetical literature: “My sins are flowing out behind me, and I do not see them; and yet, I have come today to judge someone else's sins.” This is the beginning of humility. To realize that we are often blind not to the sins of others, but to our own. And then there is Abba Isaac the Theban. He condemns a brother. Later, an Angel blocks the entrance to his cell and asks: “Where do you want me to cast the erring brother whom you condemned?” This is not merely a dramatic moral lesson. It is theological revelation. To judge another is, in a hidden way, to step into a place that belongs to God. The Fathers knew that judgment is not simply speech. It is a movement of the heart that places the self above another. Mercy, then, is not emotional softness. It is participation in divine life. This is perhaps why Abba Macarius is described almost unbearably: he covered the faults which he saw as though he did not see them, and those which he heard as though he did not hear them. Not because he denied evil. But because he had become like God. God sees all and yet bears with all. God knows what we are and still does not withdraw His mercy. God alone sees with absolute clarity and still gives time for repentance. The Fathers wanted this same heart. And so should we. These stories do not simply teach us to “be nice” or “avoid criticizing people.” They embody revealed truth. They reveal what divine love looks like once it begins to enter fallen human beings. They show what man becomes when he ceases to live by accusation and begins to live by mercy. This is the deepest challenge. Not whether we can identify sin. Most of us can do that quickly. The question is whether, while seeing clearly, we have become merciful. Whether our truth has been transfigured by love. Whether our asceticism has softened the heart rather than hardened it. Whether we can stand before another's failure and remember our own need for forgiveness. The Desert Fathers were fierce because they were honest. They were merciful because they had met God. And the closer they came to Him, the less eager they were to condemn. Perhaps that is one of the surest signs that divine love has begun to remake the heart. Not blindness. Not permissiveness. But clarity without cruelty. Truth without accusation. Mercy without illusion. And a heart that increasingly belongs to God. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:14:52 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 20 Volume 3 Section H 00:15:25 Charmaine's iPad: Hello dear family. Good to see all of you 00:15:34 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Reacted to "Hello dear family. G..." with ❤️ 00:16:18 Charmaine's iPad: Reacted to "Hello dear family. Good to see all of you" with ❤️ 00:17:00 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Coming Soon! [Full message cannot be displayed on this version] 00:19:08 Bob Čihák, AZ: P. 20  H 00:20:55 Julie: I'm so glad Father 00:32:40 Julie: Reminds me of the alcoholic monk that died 00:35:12 Bob Čihák, AZ: P. 21, #2 00:36:07 Julie: Today in Australia 00:36:25 Catherine Opie: In NZ too 00:36:30 Rebecca Thérèse: Today in Britain as well! 00:45:35 forrest: I'll look, but they often use euphemisms 00:51:19 Danny Moulton: In the Kindle version, he says, "May God forgive us all," thereby including himself.  This seems an even more powerful expression of humility, 00:51:21 forrest: The Greek has διαφϑαρῆ, indicating a passive verb form, implying she was victimized. 00:56:14 Julie: Reminds me of Fulton Sheen, he said on a visit to a jail to prisoners.” The difference between you and me are you were caught and I wasn't 01:03:34 una: I am highly disturbed by a culture that would exact punishment from a victimized woman 01:14:25 Fr Martin, Arizona: what do you think of this? It seems we don't calcify anyone's behavior as if it condemns them, because don't each of us hope God will heal us? St. Isaac the Syrian said, "God is not One who requites evil, but who sets evil right." 01:18:38 Danny Moulton: Thank you! 01:18:41 Andrew Adams: Thanks be to God! Thank you, Father! 01:18:44 Janine: Great class! Thanks Father 01:18:50 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:18:50 Maureen Cunningham: Thank you

Listen along as we continue our time in 1 Peter. Notes//Quotes: Faith: 1 Peter 3:1-7 Title: The Way Home “Submission is not something being taken from me, but is something I'm choosing to give. The truth that Jesus, being fully God, willingly entered into this world, becoming fully man and submitting His will to God the Father and giving His life to justify us as well as the Spirit's role of illuminating and pointing people to Jesus is proof that the differing roles God has for men/women and husbands/wives is not about value or worth. Submission actively happens in the Trinity. If Jesus submitted even unto death, how can I stand on my “rights” and ultimately demand to always be the one in authority?” - Kathy Keller “Renounce yourself, take up your Cross and follow Me. To recognize one's own nonentity and discover the secret of the Kingdom is not enough: the King of Love must be enthroned in our mind and heart, take undivided possession of our will and make of our very bodies the Temples of the Holy Ghost. This small particle of the Cosmos, which is our soul and body must be conquered, freed by a lifelong struggle from enslavement to the world and to the devil, freed as if it were an occupied country and restored to its legitimate King.”  - Anthony of Sourozh, Sayings of the Desert Fathers

In this episode on early Christian monasticism, Geoff and regular guest David Clayton explore how the Desert Fathers and Mothers understood sin as discorder (of all kinds) and how asceticism was a path toward freedom to love God and others. They discuss sin not merely as rule-breaking but as patterns that impair clear seeing, free choosing, and loving well. Asceticism is presented as training that frees the heart by reshaping habits, while emphasizing grace, mercy, and the hope to “begin again” each day.Dive deeper in our new book, Landscapes of the Soul: How the Science and Spirituality of Attachment Can Move You into Confident Faith, Courage, and Connection, and learn about our trainings and other resources at embodiedfaith.life.Stay Connected: Check out our Attaching to God 6-Week Learning Cohort.Join the Embodied Faith community to stay connected and get posts, episodes, & resources.Support the podcast with a one-time or regular gift (to keep this ad-free without breaking the Holsclaw's bank).

Today, we're honored to share a conversation with Tish Harrison Warren on her beautiful brand new book, What Grows in Weary Lands.From the very first pages of this book, Tish gives us language for something so familiar. She writes about aridity—those seasons of spiritual drought, exhaustion, or distance from God, when prayer feels flat, faith feels heavy, and the life we once found nourishing suddenly feels barren. Then she also introduces us to the ancient idea of acedia—what the Desert Fathers and Mothers sometimes called “the noonday demon.” It's that restless belief that life with God would be easier somewhere else, sometime else, with different work, different people, a different church, or a new set of circumstances. It's a restlessness that wants to escape the ordinary demands of love in search of some imagined future where spiritual highs are constant and faith feels effortless. But Tish says these experiences of aridity and acedia aren't signs that something has gone wrong, in fact, they are experiences that Christians throughout time have understood to be a normal—even necessary—part of spiritual maturity.In this conversation, she helps us see that the invitation in these weary seasons is not to force our way back into those spiritual highs, but to stay with prayer, to stay with the ordinary practices that have formed disciples for centuries, often staying with imperfect communities and relationships even after the shine has worn off and the brokenness becomes visible.She makes the case that that maturity often looks less like finding the perfect place, and more like learning how God meets us in imperfect places through patience, repair, and the slow work of love.Tish is an Anglican priest and author known for her award winning books Liturgy of the Ordinary and Prayer in the Night. Her new book, What Grows in Weary Lands, was released this week and is available on Bookshop.org, Amazon, or wherever books are sold. We are so grateful to Tish for coming on the podcast and we hope that you enjoy this conversation.Join us on July 11 for the Wayfare festival! RSVP here.

This week, we share an exclusive For the Journey conversation between Rev. Bill Haley, Scott Buresh (Coracle Baltimore Community Minister), and Wade Ballou (Co-pastor of the Coracle Community). They discuss Celtic Christianity, Ignatian spirituality, pilgrimage, the Desert Fathers, the development of Western monasticism, and much more. All of this serves as an introduction to A Common Way, Coracle's initiative to translate the riches of monastic wisdom for normal people in the modern world.EXPLORE A COMMON WAYEXPLORE THE CORACLE FELLOWSHIP PROGRAMinthecoracle.org  |  @inthecoracleSupport the showFor the Journey is a resource of the Coracle Center of Formation for Action and is made possible through the generous support of men and women across the globe.

What Is Spiritual Weariness and How Can We Find Renewal?   In this episode of The Good Faith Podcast, Curtis Chang chats with Tish Harrison Warren—Anglican priest, former New York Times columnist, and author of What Grows in Weary Lands—about burnout, spiritual weariness, and the exhaustion that escapism and rest alone cannot fix. Tish explains how polarization, digital distraction, consumerism, and isolation can leave us tempted to "flame out" or "numb out." Instead, she invites listeners to "go deeper" through prayer, silence, embodied community, Sabbath, and the difficult but meaningful commitments that lead to lasting renewal.   00:36 - Introduction to World Weariness 02:43 - Tish Describes the Draining Experience of Public Faith 06:04 - What Are the Cultural Factors of Collective Burnout? 13:01 - Dysfunctional Responses: Reinvention and Escape 15:01 - Flame Out, Numb Out, or Go Deep 20:51 - Are There Practical Steps to Go Deep? 23:29 - The Practice of "Staying in Your Cell" 26:40 - The Tough Sell of Going Deeper 32:07 - The "Dark Night of the Soul" as a Growth Stage  36:11 - Learning from Historic Church Practices  38:04 - What Do Healthy Rhythms of Engagement and Withdrawal Look Like?   Sign up for The After Party Informational Webinars Sign up for The Good List   Mentioned in This Episode: Tish Harrison Warren's What Grows in Weary Lands: On Christian Resilience The Ezra Klein Show: Burned Out? Start Here. Curt Thompson on Covid-era digital fatigue Thomas Aquinas's idea of arduous goods St. John of the Cross's The Dark Night of the Soul Stanley Hauerwas: Evangelicalism Will Die of Exhaustion (conversation with Al Mohler) the Desert Fathers and Mothers: "Stay in your cell"   More From Tish Harrison Warren: Tish Harrison Warren's website Tish Harrison Warren's New York Times pieces Other books by Tish Harrison Warren   Follow Us: Good Faith on Instagram Good Faith on X (formerly Twitter) Good Faith on Facebook   The Good Faith Podcast is a production of a 501(c)(3) nonpartisan organization that does not engage in any political campaign activity to support or oppose any candidate for public office. Any views and opinions expressed by any guests on this program are solely those of the individuals and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of Good Faith.

Before demons became horned monsters in paintings, horror movies, and late-night YouTube thumbnails, they were something stranger.Older cultures spoke of daimons, spirits, hidden beings, wilderness presences, fallen angels, pagan gods, unclean spirits, and intelligences that seemed to move through dreams, temptation, sickness, fear, desire, and the human mind.Then Christianity entered the picture and reorganized the unseen world into a moral battlefield.In this episode of Idiot Mystic, we explore the long, eerie history of Christian demons: from Greek daimons and Jewish spirit traditions to the demons of the New Testament, the Desert Fathers, medieval demonology, witch trial panic, exorcism, possession, deliverance ministry, and modern psychological interpretations of demonic experience.We'll talk about Jesus casting out demons, Legion, Mary Magdalene and the “seven demons,” Augustine's rejection of daimonic mediation, Evagrius and the inner warfare of thoughts, medieval hierarchies, incubi and succubi, the Malleus Maleficarum, King James' Daemonologie, and why the demonic still feels so powerful when people talk about addiction, intrusive thoughts, trauma, compulsion, moral injury, oppression, and evil.This is part of the Idiot Mystic hidden beings series, alongside episodes on Mothman, Fairies / Hidden People, Daimons, Djinn, Shedim, and other recurring categories of unseen intelligence.The question underneath it all:Why do humans keep describing intelligences that influence thought, body, morality, desire, fear, and destiny?And maybe more specifically:How did Christianity turn the ambiguous middle world of spirits into a battlefield for the soul?Follow Idiot Mystic:YouTube / TikTok / Instagram: @idiotmysticWebsite: idiotmystic.comDiscord: https://discord.gg/dXKjhZrZmM

What do you do when the fire won't start - when life is full but God feels distant, when faith is intact but the soul is running on empty? In this conversation, I sit down with Tish Harrison Warren, who draws on her new book, What Grows in Weary Lands, to explore acedia, the ancient concept usually translated as sloth but better understood as a sadness that the good is difficult. We trace how the desert fathers and mothers were grappling with the same exhaustion and spiritual languishing that defines our moment and what their practices have to teach us about endurance, formation, and encounter with the living God.Tish Harrison Warren is a writer and an Anglican priest. She is the author of several books, including Liturgy of the Ordinary, which won Christianity Today's 2018 Book of the Year, and Prayer in the Night, which won Christianity Today's 2022 Book of the Year and the 2022 ECPA Christian Book of the Year. She formerly wrote a weekly newsletter for The New York Times, which focused on faith in public discourse and private life. She was also a columnist at Christianity Today. Her articles and essays have appeared in Comment Magazine, the The Point Magazine, Religion News Service, and elsewhere. She currently serves as the C.S. Lewis Theological Writer-in-Residence for The Anglican Episcopal House of Studies at Baylor's George W. Truett Theological Seminary. She is a senior fellow with the Trinity Forum and an assisting priest at Immanuel Anglican Church. She lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband and three children.Tish's Book:What Grows in Weary LandsTish's Recommendation:Liturgies of the WildConnect with Joshua: jjohnson@shiftingculturepodcast.comGo to www.shiftingculturepodcast.com to interact and donate. Every donation helps to produce more podcasts for you to enjoy.Follow on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Threads, Bluesky or YouTubeSupport the podcast and the ministry that my wife and I do around the world. Just click on the support the show link below NEW PODCAST: American Evangelicals - A History PodcastA thoughtful, deep dive into one of the most talked-about movements in American history.Support the show

What is the Rosary—and where did it actually come from?In this episode of FACTS, Stephen Boyce and Pat May break down the real history behind one of the most misunderstood devotions in Christianity. Was the Rosary invented in the Middle Ages? Did Saint Dominic really receive it in a vision? And how do the The Gospel According to Luke, early monastic prayer, and centuries of Christian tradition all come together to form what we know today?We walk through the development step-by-step—from the Desert Fathers and repetitive prayer, to the formation of the Hail Mary, to the rise of the mysteries, and the global spread of the Rosary through figures like Pope Pius V and Saint Louis de Montfort.This isn't surface-level history. This is the making of the Rosary.If you'd like to donate to our ministry or be a monthly partner that receives newsletters and one on one discussions with Dr. Stephen Boyce, here's a link: https://give.tithe.ly/?formId=6381a2ee-b82f-42a7-809e-6b733cec05a7#Rosary #ChurchHistory #Catholic #FACTSPodcast #StephenBoyce #PatMay

There are sins that shock us. And there are sins we commit while feeling righteous. The Fathers place condemnation among the most dangerous of all, because it disguises itself as discernment, zeal, clarity, moral seriousness, concern for truth, or defense of virtue. It allows the soul to remain dark while imagining itself full of light. The monk in Tyre publicly takes the prostitute Porphyria by the hand to save her soul. He does not protect his image. He does not manage appearances. He does not consult public opinion. He risks slander to rescue a human being. The city immediately does what cities always do. It interprets evil. It invents details. It delights in scandal. It spreads rumor as if rumor were truth. This is the ancient world. It is also the modern one. People love condemnation because it relieves them of repentance. If another is filthy, then I feel cleaner. If another is hypocritical, then I need not examine my own hypocrisy. If another has fallen, then I may remain standing in my own imagination. The Evergetinos says something brutal and true: corrupt people readily believe corrupt things because they assume others are like themselves. The suspicious man is often revealing himself more than exposing anyone else. The monk bears this slander silently. He saves the woman, has her tonsured as a nun, entrusts her to the monastic life, and accepts years of false judgment. Only at death does God vindicate him through the miracle of the burning coals. Why then? Because God often waits until the end to expose the blindness of men. How many people have we judged who were secretly dear to God? How many motives have we misread? How many stories have we narrated from fragments and vanity? Abba Isaiah brings the matter into ordinary life. You need something from your brother. Instead of asking simply, you brood. You resent that he did not anticipate your need. You accuse him silently. The Elder says plainly: you are the one at fault. This is devastating because so much of our inner life is built on unspoken expectations. We punish others for failing standards we never voiced. Then we call ourselves wounded. St. Maximos the Confessor goes deeper still. Whoever busies himself with the sins of others has not yet begun repentance. Not advanced repentance. Not deep repentance. Begun. This means many religious people who speak constantly of the failures of the Church, society, clergy, family, culture, and enemies may not yet have entered the first room of spiritual life. They know outrage. They know commentary. They know denunciation. But they do not know repentance. The Gerontikon exposes another horror. A brother obsessed with impurity suspects two monks of sin. The Elder says the passion is in him. This is ascetic psychology of the highest order. What we compulsively detect in others often reveals what is active in ourselves. The lustful see lust everywhere. The proud detect pride everywhere. The deceitful suspect hidden motives everywhere. The bitter interpret everything through offense. They are reading their own soul onto the world. Abba Poimen adds one of the fiercest counsels in the tradition. Even if you think you touched the evidence with your own hands, do not be quick to condemn. The brother who thought he discovered fornication found only two bundles of wheat. This is not comic relief. It is revelation. You do not see clearly. You think you do. That is the danger. The section on St. John the Merciful reveals another blindness. We know the public sin. We do not know the secret repentance. The one we condemn today may already be weeping before God tonight. The one whose fall we discuss may already be rising while we remain unchanged. And here is the sharpest word of all from Abba John the Short: there is no greater virtue than not disparaging others. Why would he say this? Because the man who stops condemning is finally free to begin working on himself. The modern world feeds on accusation. Social media monetizes it. News cycles depend on it. Religious factions organize around it. Whole identities are formed through shared contempt. The Fathers would call this mass demonic pedagogy. You become what you repeatedly contemplate. If you feed daily on the faults of others, you slowly become a soul incapable of compunction. So what is the path? Speak less. Assume less. Ask plainly. Interpret slowly. Pray for the one you are tempted to judge. Return attention to your own sins. Let hidden things remain hidden unless duty truly requires action. And if genuine wrongdoing must be addressed, do so with sobriety, evidence, tears, and fear for your own soul. Here is the fierce conclusion: The soul that needs others to be guilty in order to feel innocent has not yet met God. Because the one who has stood honestly before God loses appetite for condemnation. He has too much to repent of. The Fathers do not ask you to become naive. They ask you to become clean. And cleanliness begins when you stop making a home for suspicion. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:02:57 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 5 Volume III - section 3 00:22:10 vanessa s (vanessa s): My daughter was supposed to go to Israel this summer but Air Canada cancelled all flights due to security issues. 00:22:20 vanessa s (vanessa s): :( 00:27:45 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 5 Volume III - section 3 00:35:22 Julie: Our Imagination can trick us when we start judging …our senses can be hijacked by our Assumptions 00:35:38 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "Our Imagination can ..." with

Host: Steve Macchia, Guest: Matt Scott, Fyfe Blair "What are the 'pillows' that allow your soul to finally rest in God?" – Steve Macchia In this episode of the Discerning Leader Podcast, Steve Machia is joined by Matt Scott and Fyfe Blair for a rich and reflective conversation on silence and solitude. Together, they explore why these ancient practices feel so difficult in a distracted, fast-paced world—and why they remain essential for the health of our souls. Drawing from Scripture, lived experience, and the wisdom of the Desert Fathers, this episode invites you to move beyond surface-level quiet into a deeper stillness of heart. You'll discover how silence and solitude are not ends in themselves, but pathways into a life rooted in God's presence—a life marked by what Fife calls a "cadence of grace." If your soul feels hurried, noisy, or stretched thin, this conversation offers a gentle but honest invitation: slow down, make space, and learn again how to be with God. We've provided a 3 page Soul Care Audit that will offer you a handful of questions to consider how well you're caring for your soul. You can download the PDF here and spend some time prayerfully reflecting on your current rhythms and practices.  Join the conversation about spiritual discernment as a way of life at www.LeadershipTransformations.org and consider participation in our online and in-person program offerings. Additional LTI spiritual formation resources can be found at www.SpiritualFormationStore.com and www.ruleoflife.com and www.healthychurch.net.

There's a sin that has been attacking men since he was created. It doesn't look like sin. It doesn't feel like sin. But if you let it take root, it will quietly hollow out your faith...and you won't even see it coming.The average American prayer lasts one to two minutes. Men who say they're in a war for their soul, their marriage, their kids. Giving God two minutes.That's not just a busy schedule. That's something darker. And today we're naming it.The Desert Fathers called it acedia and the early Church considered it one of the most spiritually dangerous attacks a man could face. St. Thomas Aquinas listed it among the seven deadly sins. And it is the signature attack on Catholic men right now.It looks like contentment. It looks like, I show up to Mass on Sunday, I check the box, I'm a good provider. Isn't that enough? That is sloth. That is acedia. And chances are, you've never once confessed it.In this episode, James breaks down what acedia actually is, why the saints and Desert Fathers feared it above almost everything else, how to recognize it in your own life right now, and what to do about it starting this week.3 Powerful Quotes from This Episode:"Sloth is not about being lazy. It's about being unwilling to pay the cost of the fight.""Acedia is not a relaxation of effort, but a refusal of joy — because the joy that God offers is not cheap. It comes through the cross.""The man who goes into battle with a clear conscience and a clean soul is a different animal entirely from the man carrying the weight of unconfessed sin and unexamined drift."Key Takeaway — Apply This Immediately:Identify one area of your life where you've been sitting on the stairs — your prayer life, your marriage, your kids, your own soul. This week, show up there on purpose. Five minutes. Eyes closed. No apps. Tell God exactly where you've been frozen. Then go to confession before the month is out.Thank you for your prayers and support!Consider supporting the podcast on our Buy Me a Coffee page to help grow the show to reach as many men as possible!Subscribe to our YouTube page.Check out our websiteGet delicious coffee from Mystic Monk CoffeeDownload TAN Digital to access the incredible TAN Library! Use code 'MANLYCATHOLIC' to get 50% OFF your subscription!Contact us at themanlycatholic@gmail.com

The shallow reader sees only a warning against suspicion. The deeper reader trembles, because this account unveils something far more demanding: the measure of a life so united to God that it no longer moves by ordinary instinct. Most men protect reputation. Most men avoid scandal. Most men keep a safe distance from misery so that their conscience remains clean and their name untarnished. St. Vitalios of Alexandria did none of this. He entered the place others cursed. He walked into darkness not to taste it, but to burn within it like hidden fire. He labored by day, ate almost nothing, gave his wages away, and spent whole nights standing in prayer for women whom society used, despised, and discarded. While others preached virtue from a distance, he purchased for them one night of freedom and filled that purchased silence with psalms, tears, prostrations, and intercession. This is not recklessness. It is sanctity. The prudent man says: “Protect yourself.” The holy man says: “Lose yourself.” The calculating man asks: “What will people think?” The saint asks: “Who will suffer if I do nothing?” The world calls such love foolish because it cannot recognize anything that does not orbit self-preservation. What made this possible? Not mere compassion. Not personality. Not activism. Not moral zeal. It was hypostatic life: the human person so opened to God that divine love begins to move through human faculties. The man remains man, yet his heart becomes a place where another will acts, another mercy breathes, another courage rises. He does not merely imitate Christ. Christ lives in him. So he can go where others cannot go. He can endure slander without defense. He can accept blows without retaliation. He can bear misunderstanding without explaining himself. He can love those who insult him. He can save those whom others have already condemned. This is why the story wounds us. We do not simply condemn others. We also love within limits. We forgive within limits. We serve within limits. We give when it costs little. We remain charitable so long as our image stays intact. We call this balance, prudence, maturity. Often it is fear wearing respectable clothing. St. Vitalios of Alexandria accepted the loss of reputation as the price of hidden obedience. He let the city think him filthy while heaven knew him radiant. Few can bear this martyrdom. Many would rather be praised for lesser virtues than despised for greater love. And see the fruit. Women were restored. The shameless learned chastity. The fallen found repentance. The violent man became a monk. The condemning city learned fear. The Patriarch gave thanks. One hidden man transformed a multitude. We live in an age obsessed with visibility, explanation, branding, image, and public vindication. We cannot bear to be misunderstood for an afternoon. Yet the saints often accepted misunderstanding for years. Why? Because once the heart belongs wholly to God, reputation becomes dust. The final words of the Elder are written not in ink, but on the ground. Dust speaking to dust: Judge nothing before the time. Not because evil is unreal. Not because discernment is unnecessary. But because what you see is almost never the whole story. The woman you dismiss may be one night from repentance. The man you mock may be a saint in disguise. The soul you slander may be carrying a cross you cannot imagine. And the one you most confidently condemn may be the vessel through whom God is saving many. If you would know whether Christ lives in you, ask not how pious you appear. Ask this: Can you love where there is no reward? Can you serve where you will be misjudged? Can you descend where others recoil? Can you lose your good name for another's salvation? Can you remain silent while God alone knows? There begins the path of the saints. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:03:39 Janine: Yes 00:04:07 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Evergetinos Volume III page 2 section 2 00:05:06 Janine: Father ..do you think the Holy Spirit is dismantling us throughout our whole life? Or is it a later stage? 00:06:06 Janine: Yes..that makes sense! 00:11:20 Sam: Greetings

Simon Wickhamsmith is a Buddhist monk turned scholar, computer musician, and one of the only translators of Mongolian literature into English. He teaches in the Writing Program at Rutgers University and has been traveling back and forth to Mongolia since 2006. In this conversation he traces his spiritual path from Catholicism through Tibetan Buddhism and back to medieval Christian mysticism, introduces the Mongolian poet Mend-Ooyo, and takes us deep into the life and poetry of the 19th century Buddhist polymath Danzanravjaa — a figure Simon considers his primary teacher — including a live reading of the poem Twos, a stunning meditation on nonduality from the Mongolian steppe. Topics 00:00 — Introduction 00:02 — Simon's spiritual path: Catholicism, Opus Dei, the Desert Fathers, and Zen 00:04 — Discovering Tibetan Buddhism, Samye Ling monastery in Scotland, and ordaining as a monk 00:06 — The three-year retreat, his mother's illness, and returning to the world 00:07 — Returning to medieval Christian mysticism: Julian of Norwich, Meister Eckhart, The Cloud of Unknowing 00:10 — How SAND connected with Mend-Ooyo in Mongolia — and how Simon met him 00:12 — Teaching himself Mongolian by translating Danzanravjaa's complete works 00:13 — Introducing Mend-Ooyo: born 1952 into a nomadic herding family, poet and cultural guardian of Mongolia 00:16 — The underground literary group GAL (Fire) and Mend-Ooyo's role in Mongolian literary culture 00:18 — Mend-Ooyo's mission: reconnecting Mongolia to its nomadic heritage after Soviet collapse 00:19 — Mend-Ooyo's new novel The Solitary Tree: Robin Hood, shamanism, Buddhism, and falcons 00:23 — Who was Danzanravjaa? Born in the Gobi Desert, recognized as the fifth reincarnation of the Noyon Hutagt 00:26 — Danzanravjaa's approach: spontaneous, impromptu poetry as dharma teaching 00:28 — Mongolia's first traveling theater troupe and the poems as dictated teachings 00:31 — Live reading and analysis of Perfect Qualities — a love poem, a guru poem, and a poem of nonduality simultaneously 00:33 — The three levels of meaning in Danzanravjaa's poetry: outer, inner, and secret 00:38 — Bhakti yoga, Ram Dass, Maharaji, and the connection to direct transmission beyond doctrine 00:41 — Danzanravjaa and the land: the Shambhala vortex at Hamriin Hiid 00:44 — Horses, landscape, and the spiritual path in his poetry 00:45 — Simon's personal experience of the Shambhala site and animist relationship to land 00:49 — If Danzanravjaa were alive today: his anti-Manchu politics and primary focus on deepening practice 00:50 — Live reading of the poem Twos — nonduality in full 00:54 — On translation: humor, layers of meaning, and the paradox of the poem itself Resources & Links Simon Wickhamsmith Rutgers University faculty page Suncranes and Other Stories: Modern Mongolian Short Fiction — Columbia University Press, 2021 Politics and Literature in Mongolia (1921–1948) — Amsterdam University Press, 2020 The Hidden Life of the Sixth Dalai Lama — Lexington Books, 2011 Mend-Ooyo Gombojav Official website: mend-ooyo.mn Altan Ovoo (Golden Hill) — translated by Simon Wickhamsmith Gegeenten (The Holy One) — novel about Danzanravjaa The Solitary Tree — Mend-Ooyo's most recent novel, published 2025, translated by Simon Wickhamsmith Wikipedia: Mend-Ooyo Gombojav SAND Event — Nature of Mind and Mind of Nature: A Local Event with Mongolian Poet Mend-Ooyo Gombojav (2026) Danzanravjaa (referenced poems) Perfect Qualities (also known as The Five Senses / Five Offerings) Twos — read in full during the episode Mend-Ooyo's essay on Danzanravjaa: mend-ooyo.mn/content/86.html Referenced spiritual figures & texts The Cloud of Unknowing — anonymous 14th century medieval Christian mysticism text Julian of Norwich and Meister Eckhart — medieval mystics Simon returned to after Buddhism Samye Ling Tibetan Buddhist Monastery, Scotland — where Simon did his retreat Ram Dass and Maharaji — referenced in discussion of bhakti yoga and direct transmission John Cage — Simon's original entry point into Zen Buddhism Connect with more talks and films from the SAND film Series The Eternal Song Support the mission of SAND and the production of this podcast by becoming a SAND Member

Orthodoxy Ended Church Shopping: When Church History Won My Heart.  Special Uncut Edition.What if the ache you feel on Sunday isn't a lack of passion, but a hunger for roots? Tony Nektarios Vasquez joins us to share how a Pentecostal upbringing, a non-denominational season, and eventually a Calvinist-leaning church plant still left him asking where the first 1,500 years fit in. His story is not a theory lesson—it's a family saga: a praying father discovering the Desert Fathers, a brother slipping out to Vespers, a wife and children encountering reverence for the first time, and a co-pastor who realized that history, Scripture, and worship belong together.We trace Tony's path from Pentecostal roots and a non-denominational church plant to a sober look at church history, liturgy, and apostolic succession. Family doubts, online study, and the beauty of Vespers turn hesitation into conviction as Scripture and tradition align.• questioning charismatic altar practices and emotionalism• moving from Reformers to the first 1,500 years• parish visits to St James and first Vespers• answers on icons, relics, and intercession from Scripture• liturgy as continuity with Old Testament worship• apostolic succession and the promise that the Church endures• closing a young church to enter Orthodoxy• finding healing and stability in the sacramentsWe walk through the uncomfortable questions most avoid. Are altar manifestations genuine or coached? Does sola fide stand when held beside James and the early Church? How do relics, icons, and the intercession of the saints square with the Bible? Tony takes us inside St. James Orthodox Church in Modesto, where incense and chant weren't novelty, but a doorway to Christ-centered prayer. He shares the moment his daughter said the hymns made her want to cry, the way Revelation reframed prayer as a communion of heaven and earth, and how apostolic succession answered the authority problem that haunted his independent church.This conversation is a guided tour from system to story, from proof texts to a living tradition. We touch on the continuity between Old Testament worship and the Divine Liturgy, the claim that the Church Christ founded never paused or rebooted, and the quiet courage it took to close a young church for a faith that felt both ancient and alive. If you've wondered where the dots connect—Scripture, history, and sacrament—this is an honest map drawn in real time.If this resonates, share it with a friend, subscribe for more thoughtful journeys into the ancient faith, and leave a review to help others find the show. Your questions and stories shape future episodes—drop them in the comments and say hello to Tony.Questions about Orthodoxy? Please check out our friends at Ghost of Byzantium Discord server: https://discord.gg/JDJDQw6tdhPlease prayerfully consider supporting Cloud of Witnesses: https://www.patreon.com/c/CloudofWitnessesFind Cloud of Witnesses on Instagram, X.com, Facebook, and TikTok.Please leave a comment with your thoughts!

Palm Sunday is often remembered as a parade, but it was actually a confrontation. In this final installment of the "Wisdom in the Desert" series, Pastor Dan Sinkhorn breaks down the deep, prophetic meaning behind Jesus' entry into Jerusalem and what it reveals about the human heart. Why did the same voices that shouted "Hosanna" on Sunday scream for an execution by Friday? The answer lies in the gap between our worldly expectations and God's holy intentions. Drawing on the insights of St. Augustine and the Desert Fathers, Pastor Dan explores how our lives become "disordered" when we love even good things—like family, security, or success—more than we love Jesus Christ. If your spiritual life feels like a "glitchy operating system," this episode is a call to hit the reset button. As we move into Holy Week, learn how to carry the silence and discipline of the desert into the noise of the city.

Send us Fan MailYour day is moving fast, your mind is crowded, and peace can feel like a luxury you cannot reach. We slow everything down with one of the Church's simplest treasures: the Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” As we pray it and unpack it, we discover why this short line has carried monks, saints, parents, and parish workers through anxiety, distraction, and spiritual dryness, turning ordinary moments into a steady return to God.We walk through the biblical roots in Luke 18, where mercy is the bold cry of the blind man and the humble confession of the tax collector, and we connect it to Saint Paul's call to “pray without ceasing.” We also trace the prayer through the early Church and the Desert Fathers and Mothers, who learned that short, repeated prayer can steady the heart when thoughts wander. Along the way, we reflect on the Holy Name of Jesus as a refuge and a source of spiritual peace, especially when life feels noisy or uncertain.Then we get practical: how to pray the Jesus Prayer throughout the day at work, in traffic, while doing chores, or before the tabernacle in Eucharistic adoration, and how breathing with the words or using beads can help. We also talk about humility as the engine of real contemplative prayer and why the goal is prayer of the heart, not perfect performance. If you want more support for your Catholic devotional life, check the link in the description for the rest of the article, a special news item, and a special offer at JourneysOfFaith.com. Subscribe, share this with a friend who needs calm, and leave a review with the moment you plan to start praying it.Open by Steve Bailey Support the showChat with US 24/7 Ask us anything https://chatting.page/mjxs9aerrtgm3lmpndlcepmbyosntrjnView all of our blog posts here https://journeysoffaith.com/blogs/eucharist-mary-saintsDownload Journeys of Faith App for Iphone or Android FREE https://journeysoffaith.com/pages/download-our-appJourneys of Faith brings your Super Saints PodcastsPlease consider subscribing to this podcast or making a donation to Journeys of Faith we are actively increasing our reach and we are seeing good results for visitors under 40! Help us Grow!***Our Core Beliefs***The Eucharist is the Source and Summit of our Faith."  Catechism 132 Click Here“This is the will of God, your sanctification.”   1Thessalonians 4“ ...

In a world shaped by outrage and constant commentary, the Christian calling is different. Drawing on Scripture, the Desert Fathers, and the theology of St. Gregory Palamas, this homily explores why Christians must learn to speak in ways that build up rather than tear down. Sometimes the most faithful response is simply silence. --- Homily Notes: St. Gregory Palamas "Let Us Be Quiet" There are moments when the most truthful response a human being can give … is silence. What do you meet in silence? On Holy Saturday, during the First Resurrection service, we sing these words: "Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and in fear and trembling stand; for the King of kings and Lord of lords comes forth, to be slain, to give Himself as food to the faithful." Why should we be silent in the presence of God? Sometimes the reason is shame. When we see the goodness of God clearly, we recognize the ways we have failed Him. The proper response is not words of justification. It is silence. Sometimes the reason is gratitude. For those who have received God's gift of redemption through Christ, there is nothing we could say that would adequately express it. Sometimes the reason is relief. For those who have wearied themselves trying to do good in service to God, there is comfort in knowing that our efforts have not been in vain. The burden becomes light because God is real. Sometimes the reason is simply rationality. What could we possibly say that would improve the intellectual profundity of the moment? Remember St. Peter at the Transfiguration. He sees the glory of Christ and immediately begins talking: "Lord, let us build three tents…" But Scripture gently reminds us that he did not know what he was saying.  This teaches us that sometimes silence is the only reasonable response. It also teaches us that the most profound experience of silence is simply awe. It is like standing in the sun after a long cold winter and feeling its warmth. You do not analyze the sun. You stand in it. But silence does not come naturally to us. Spiritually speaking, the opposite of silence is not just sound. The opposite of silence is distraction. Noise. Talking. Constant reaction. And today one of the loudest places in our lives is not the street. It is our phones. Social media trains us to respond instantly to everything. Every opinion must be expressed. Every disagreement must be answered. Every irritation must be broadcast. But the spiritual life teaches something very different. Sometimes the holiest thing you can do… is not to respond. Sometimes holiness means closing the app and being quiet. This struggle with speech is not new. The Desert Fathers understood this deeply. A brother asked Abba Pambo whether it was good to praise one's neighbor, and the old man said: "It is better to be silent." And if that is true about praise, how much more true it is when we are tempted to criticize or attack our neighbor [or even some rando on the internet]? Another brother asked Abba Poemen: "Is it better to speak or to be silent?" And the old man replied: "The man who speaks for God's sake does well; but the man who is silent for God's sake also does well." Scripture says something similar: "Even a fool, when he holds his peace, is counted wise; and he who shuts his lips is esteemed a man of understanding." (Proverbs 17:28) Or as Mark Twain later put it: "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt." But Christian silence is not just about avoiding foolish words. It is about growing out of our sin and toward divinity. And here we must be honest with ourselves. We see easily when other people speak with anger, bitterness, sarcasm, or cruelty. But we rarely notice when we do the same thing. It is a bit like bad breath: [pause] We notice it quickly in other people, but we may not realize when it is our own. So here is a simple rule many of us were taught as children: "If you cannot say something nice, do not say anything at all." That may sound simple. But it contains real wisdom. Before speaking, ask yourself: Will what I am about to say build up the person I am speaking to? This is not about sugar-coating reality. This is not about pretending evil is good or giving evil a pass. Rather, it is about learning to speak in a way that builds up rather than tears down—so that we become pastors and priests rather than pundits and prosecutors. There are already plenty of prosecutors. What the world needs are pastors.   And that is precisely what we are called to be as the Royal Priesthood. But we need to acquire silence so that we might receive and share grace in this calling. Abba Arsenius said: "I have often repented of speaking, but never of remaining silent." And if you are not sure whether a word would be useful? And how could you be sure?  Do you really know their heart? Do you know their struggles? Do you know their intentions? We so easily judge the surface of another person's life without knowing the weight they carry. So if we are not sure whether speaking would be useful—and we should always have our doubts—perhaps the best thing for us to do is simply be quiet. Because silence is not just the absence of words. It is the space where the heart begins to hear God.--- This is only the first step in the way of silence.  But we must start somewhere: Speak less. Listen more. Use words to build up rather than tear down. Over time, something begins to change inside us. Silence creates space. And in that space we begin to notice something we had missed before. The presence of God. A brother once came to Abba Moses at Scetis and asked him for a word. The old man said: "Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything." Silence becomes a teacher. Stillness becomes a teacher. And this is exactly what St. Gregory Palamas teaches us. He reminds us that the knowledge of God is not reached by noise or argument, but through hesychia — holy stillness — the quieting of the mind and heart so that the light of God may be known. Not because we have earned it. But because we have finally become quiet enough to notice Him. And this is why the Church calls us to spiritual silence in the Divine Liturgy. In a few moments we will stand again before the altar. The King of Kings will come forth. Not in thunder. Not in spectacle. But in bread and wine that become His Body and Blood. And so the Church says again, through the hymn of Holy Saturday; "Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and in fear and trembling stand." Let us quiet our minds. Let us quiet our tongues. Let us quiet our hearts. So that we may stand before the Lord of glory… and receive Him with awe. And so the Church teaches us again what the saints have always taught: let us be quiet. If we learn this lesson well, we may discover that what waits for us in that silence is not emptiness at all… but the living presence of God.  And that silence, and that Presence, slowly shape us into the likeness of Christ.

According to Professor Hannah Fry, people's lives are enriched by artificial intelligence. It makes problem-solving easier, helps medical diagnosis, and can improve productivity. Yet as she points out in her new BBC2 documentary, AI Confidential, there are risks: that jobs will be lost to AI; that we might lose the bedside care that comes with human diagnosis as machine intelligence takes over. She also warns AI provides what she calls emotional junk food that demands nothing of us, by offering AI romantic partners. And then there's tech grief, highlighted in a recent EastEnders storyline, when video and voice notes are used to create an avatar of a dead character to console his father. Real mourning is put on hold. But it seems to me there's another risky aspect of AI – that it rewrites temptation. Temptation is traditionally thought to be about testing will-power. Take Lent and Ramadan, currently being observed by Christians and Muslims. If a Muslim fasting all day has a little snack at lunchtime, or a Christian giving up sweets for Lent, eats chocolate, they've failed in their discipline. But AI is a different, and remarkable tempter, encouraging people not to fail in some way but take the easier option that in some ways seems sensible. Why read a book, for example, when AI can give you a quick summary, or make the effort to cook for dinner guests when AI can help locate a fancy restaurant in seconds and order a takeaway. And instead of the regret that comes from conventional temptation, AI offers something else. It's all too easy to console yourself that you have done something good. You've saved time. The easy option has advantages. The Desert Fathers – early Christian thinkers who retreated to the desert – did so because they believed a hard life was good for them. They believed it brought them closer to God. And with temptation, even if you give in to it but then regret it you can grow as a person by learning something about yourself. Pope Leo who has expressed concern about the impact of AI on humanity has now urged priests to resist the temptation to use the short cut of AI to write sermons. AI might be clever, but there's something lacking in AI preaching: it doesn't come from the heart. Perhaps this Lent and Ramadan, it might be worth not only giving up something that tests our will, but pondering something that appears helpful yet is temptation on another scale, reducing our need to think. After all, as Descartes said, I think, therefore I am. What am I, if machines have seduced me to do so much less thinking for myself?

Sermon Summary:We wrapped up our journey through Pete Scazzero's Emotionally Healthy Spirituality with a question that matters more than any sermon series: what does a sustainable spiritual life look like on a random Tuesday when no one is asking you to think about it?A study of Israeli parole judges showed that the time of day mattered more to their decisions than the facts of a case. Decision fatigue is real. We are not brains driving bodies around. We are whole people who get depleted, and depleted people default to whatever is easiest and most immediate. Good intentions, without structure, are not a plan.That structure has a name. Fifteen hundred years of Christian tradition calls it a Rule of Life, drawn from the Greek word for trellis, a framework that helps something grow where you actually want it to grow. Daniel had one. Praying three times a day toward Jerusalem, keeping convictions about food and allegiance, he maintained his identity through sixty-plus years of living inside the most sophisticated empire on earth. The lions and the furnace made him famous. The prayer at the window made him who he was.The Desert Fathers and Mothers, St. Benedict, William Wilberforce and his Clapham Circle all understood the same thing: formation requires intention. Scazzero organizes a Rule of Life around four areas: Prayer, Rest, Work, and Relationships. Sabbath is not just recovery. It is a declaration that God holds things together. Caring for the body is a spiritual act. Community is not optional support for the real work. Community is the work.The goal of all of it is joy. Jesus said his joy would be in us and our joy would be complete. The most formed disciples should be the most alive people in the room.URF WEBSITE: ➤ http://www.urfellowship.comSOCIALS: ➤ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/urfellowship/➤ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/urfellowship

The fathers did not endure silence. They loved it. This is the difference between a man who is forcing himself to be quiet and a man who has discovered God. One clenches his teeth and calls it discipline. The other falls silent because he has found Someone worth listening to. Abba Or never lied, never cursed, never spoke unnecessarily. Not because he was following rules. Because he had seen the damage words do when they are born from ego. He had watched how speech leaks the life out of the soul. How it dissipates grace. How it feeds the illusion that we exist by asserting ourselves. Every unnecessary word strengthens the false self. Every unnecessary word delays repentance. Every unnecessary word postpones intimacy. The fathers were not minimalists. They were realists. They had learned that most of what we say does not come from truth but from anxiety. We speak to control. We speak to secure ourselves. We speak to make sure we exist in the minds of others. We are afraid to disappear. Silence terrifies the ego because silence exposes that we do not sustain ourselves. God does. ⸻ St Ephraim says that he who speaks much multiplies quarrels and hatred. This is not moralism. This is anatomy. Words inflame the passions. Words solidify judgment. Words give form to resentment that would otherwise dissolve in the presence of God. A garden without a fence is trampled. A soul without silence is plundered. Every idle conversation opens the gate to distraction. Every irrelevant word invites the demon of listlessness. Antiochos names this with terrifying clarity. Loquacity does not merely waste time. It hands the mind over to the enemy. Because God is not found in noise. God is found where nothing of the ego remains to obscure Him. This is why silence is not empty. Silence is full. It is full of Presence. It is full of Light. It is full of a Word that cannot be manufactured by human thought. St Isaac the Syrian says that silence is the mystery of the age to come. Words belong to this age. Silence belongs to eternity. Because in eternity, God is not explained. He is known. Not through concepts. Through union. ⸻ When the fathers entered silence, they did not enter absence. They entered encounter. They discovered that beneath the constant internal narration of the mind there was Another Voice. A Voice that did not shout. A Voice that did not argue. A Voice that did not flatter or condemn. A Voice equal to God Himself. Because it was God Himself. The Logos. The Word through whom all things were made. This Word does not force Himself upon us. He waits. He waits for the noise to stop. He waits for the ego to weaken. He waits for the endless commentary to exhaust itself. He waits for the man to become poor enough to listen. And when He speaks, He does not merely inform. He creates. His Word heals what sin has disfigured. His Word restores what pride has shattered. His Word brings into existence a new heart. This is why the fathers guarded silence with ferocity. They were protecting the place where God is born in the soul. ⸻ Antiochos says that those who possess the Holy Spirit do not speak when they wish but when moved by the Spirit. This is freedom. Not the freedom to speak. The freedom to remain silent. The ego must speak to survive. The Spirit does not. The ego is restless. The Spirit is still. The ego needs witnesses. The Spirit is its own witness. This is why the saints speak few words. Not because they have nothing to say. But because they see the cost of speech. They know that every word must pass through fire. They have seen the devastation caused by words spoken without God. They have seen how words born from self obscure the Word who gives life. So they wait. They remain in silence until speech itself becomes obedience. Until speech is no longer self-expression but revelation. ⸻ We resist this silence because it feels like death. And it is death. It is the death of the self that must assert, explain, defend, and secure itself. It is the death of the self that believes it exists by speaking. In silence, this self collapses. And something else begins to appear. Something quiet. Something uncreated. Something that does not depend on being seen or heard. Christ Himself begins to live where the false self once ruled. This is why silence is not endured. It is loved. Because in silence we discover that we were never sustained by our words. We were sustained by Him. And when every unnecessary word falls away, when every inner argument dissolves, when every effort to secure ourselves finally collapses, there remains only this: God speaking His Word in the depths of the heart. And this Word is life. And this Word is light. And this Word is love. And this Word is enough. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:03:08 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/philokalia-ministries-lenten-retreat-2026 00:03:37 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.youtube.com/@philokaliaministries/videos 00:04:06 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 355 number 11 00:10:00 Janine: Father…still sick..but here…thank you for prayers 00:12:40 Mary and Al: Albert 00:16:30 Andrew Adams: Will the Lenten retread be on the podcast feed? 00:47:12 Jessica McHale: Interesting---I discerned contemplative monastic life at two different monasteries. In both experiences, the nuns were too social for me. They spoke during two meals during the day, and most of the talk was politics. Since I was discerning, I imagine they wanted my opinion on political topics to see if I would "fit in" with the community. They let me know that socialization and speaaking was part of commnity life. It just wasn't for me. It is hard to find a "community" tha understands the importance of silence. For me, silence is essential. It's a prayerful existence centered on God. 00:47:37 Maureen Cunningham: If someone is quiet , the mind can be  in constant thought. How  do you combine the silence and. Empty out the mind 00:51:22 Erick Chastain: Clear creek monks didn't know who Trump was not too long ago (after he ran for president) 01:00:49 John ‘Jack': Silence ultimately brought me back to the Church.  About 15 years ago my wife asked what I wanted for a birthday gift? After listening to an elderly freind speak so lovingly of her time spent at the Abbey of the Genesee, I decided to ask for a  weekend retreat. She gave it to me, best gift ever. The first evening I thought I was  going to lose my mind. I've grown to love silence! 01:01:21 Jessica McHale: Reacted to "Silence ultimately..." with ❤️ 01:02:04 Carol Nypaver: Reacted to "Silence ultimately b..." with

He was a Phrygian by birth, a slave of Philemon, to whom the Apostle Paul addressed his epistle. Onesimos escaped from Philemon and fled to Rome, where he was converted to the Faith by St Paul. St Paul sent him back to his master, who at St Paul's urging gave him his freedom. He served the Church for many years before dying a martyr, beaten to death with clubs.   Saint Onesimos is also commemorated on November 22, with Sts Philemon, Archippus and Aphia; and on January 4 at the Synaxis of the Seventy Disciples. Our Venerable Father Dalmatius of Siberia (1697) Saint Dalmatius is venerated as a pioneer of the movement that took many ascetics to dwell in the wilderness of Siberia, establishing a new company of Desert Fathers and causing the Russian Far North to be called the 'Northern Thebaid.' He was born in Tobolsk and reared in piety by his family, recently-converted Tatars. When grown, he entered the imperial army as a Cossack and served with such distinction that the Tsar awarded him a noble title. He married and lived in Tobolsk in comfort and prosperity. One day — after the destruction of Tobolsk in a great fire in 1643 — struck by a realization of the vanity of worldly things, he left family, wealth and property and went to a monastery in the Ural Mountains, taking with him only an icon of the Dormition of the Theotokos.   He was tonsured a monk with the name of Dalmatius, and devoted himself to prayer and ascesis with such fervor that, a short time later, the brethren elected him Abbot. Fearing pride and fleeing honor, Dalmatius fled with his icon of the Theotokos to a remote cave, where he lived a life of silence and continual prayer. His presence did not long remain secret in that sparsely-settled region, and soon Christians were coming from far and wide to ask his prayer and counsel; many pagans came to him for holy Baptism. Soon his habitation became too small for those who had chosen to stay as his disciples, and the Saint received a blessing from the Bishop of Tobolsk to build a wooden chapel and some cells. This was the beginning of the great Monastery of the Dormition (also called the Monastery of St Dalmatius).   Over the years the brethren endured many tribulations. Once the Tatar Prince of the region, provoked by false rumors, planned to destroy the monastery and kill all the monks. The night before the attack, the holy Mother of God appeared to the prince in resplendent clothes, holding a flaming sword in one hand and a scourge in the other. She forbade the Prince to harm the monastery or the brethren, and commanded him to give them a permanent concession over the region. Convinced by this vision, the Prince made peace with the monks and became the Monastery's protector, though he was a Muslim.   In the succeeding years the Monastery was repeatedly burned down by the fierce pagan tribes which inhabited the area; once all the monks except St Dalmatius himself were butchered, but always the monastery was rebuilt. The Saint reposed in peace in 1697, and was succeeded as abbot by his own son Isaac, who built a stone shrine at the Monastery to house the relics of the Saint and the icon of the Mother of God which he had kept with him throughout his monastic life.

Dr. Alexander Harb and Kris McGregor explore The Kingdom of the Heart: Meditations from the Christian East, his new book that gives both spiritual and theological insight into Eastern Christian spirituality through the lens of the Desert Fathers and the Philokalia. The post IP#508 Dr. Alexander Harb – The Kingdom of the Heart: Meditations from the Christian East on Inside the Pages with Kris McGregor – Discerning Hearts Podcast appeared first on Discerning Hearts Catholic Podcasts.

In this episode of The Catholic Talk Show, Ryan, Ryan, and Fr. Michael explore the most extreme monastic saints in Church history, examining how silence, solitude, fasting, and radical withdrawal from the world shaped their pursuit of holiness—and what modern Catholics can still learn from them today. 00:00 The Essence of Spiritual Retreat and Monasticism 05:52 The Importance of Rest and Reflection 11:16 The Desert Fathers: A Journey into Solitude 16:51 Extreme Monasticism: Stylites and Anchorites 22:49 Modern Monasticism and Urban Hermits 28:30 The Call for Discipline in Modern Life 31:51 The Role of Asceticism and Fasting 35:37 Exodus 90: A Path to Freedom 39:03 Creating Sacred Spaces and Routines 49:55 Embracing Silence and Presence 53:22 Conclusion Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A reading of reflections and poems of Saint Symeon taken from various sources and translations including:~ The Book of Mystical Chapters: Meditations on the Soul's Ascent from the Desert Fathers and Other Early Christian Contemplatives, Translated by John Anthony McGuckin~ The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry, by Stephen Mitchell~ The Fire rises in Me - English version by Ivan M. GrangerSaint Symeon the New Theologian (949 -1022 AD) was an Eastern Orthodox monk and poet who was one of the three saints canonized by the Eastern Orthodox Church and given the title of "Theologian." "Theologian" was not applied to Symeon in the modern academic sense of theological study; the title was intended only to recognise someone who spoke from personal experience of the vision of God. One of his principal teachings was that humans could and should experience theoria (literally "contemplation," or direct experience of God).Symeon was born into the Byzantine nobility and given a traditional education. At age fourteen, he met Symeon the Studite, a renowned monk of the Monastery of Stoudios in Constantinople, who convinced him to give his own life to prayer and asceticism under the elder Symeon's guidance. By the time he was thirty, Symeon the New Theologian became the abbot of the Monastery of Saint Mamas, a position he held for twenty-five years. He attracted many monks and clergy with his reputation for sanctity, though his teachings brought him into conflict with church authorities, who would eventually send him into exile. Symeon is recognized as the first Eastern Christian mystic to share his own mystical experiences freely. Some of his writings are included in the Philokalia, a collection of texts by early Christian mystics on contemplative prayer and hesychast teachings. Symeon wrote and spoke frequently about the importance of experiencing directly the grace of God, often talking about his own experiences of God as divine light. Another common subject in his writings was the need of putting oneself under the guidance of a spiritual father. The authority for many of his teachings derived from the traditions of the Desert Fathers, early Christian monks and ascetics. Symeon's writings include Hymns of Divine Love, Ethical Discourses, and The Catechetical Discourses.Photography: George Digalakis ~ The Sound of Silence  / georgedigalakisphotography  https://www.digalakisphotography.com/Music: "Let My Love Be Heard" by Jake Runestad. Performed by the Bob Cole Conservatory Chamber Choir.   • Let My Love Be Heard - Jake Runestad  Cousin Silas - Slow Rotations https://cousinsilas1.bandcamp.com/With thanks to Pat for his kind permission to use his music for this channel.