Часть I. Подвиги предуготовительные

The seven initial feats can be classified as preparatory. Some of them prepare the one who is zealous for piety, so to speak, from the outside, preventing those obstacles to his holy work that may occur from the outside. These exploits put him in a relationship with everything around him that would benefit him later. Others prepare the ascetic, so to speak, from the inner side, eliminating those difficulties that could arise for him within himself, and giving such a direction to his spiritual life that would constantly contribute to his future labors. The first concern of those who want to devote themselves exclusively to the cause of their salvation is the renunciation of the world and withdrawal from it. “Those who embark on the monastic feat,” he says, “let them renounce everything, let them despise everything, let them reject everything.” A world lying in evil constitutes the first and great obstacle to piety. This truth is so well known and undoubted that there is no need to reveal it and prove it. It was expressed more than once by the Savior Himself, repeatedly expressed by the apostles, and it is confirmed by the daily experience of everyone who wants to live righteously and piously in the midst of worldly vanity. A Christian must give his whole heart to God, and the world claims it for itself, or, in any case, takes some part of it. A Christian must philosophize on high, but the world forces him to plunge into earthly and vain thoughts. A Christian should care only about the salvation of his soul, but the world involves him in a variety of concerns about temporary things. Therefore, although the feat of withdrawal from the world does not constitute the very essence of Christian asceticism, it is nevertheless very rightly indicated in the Ladder as a preparatory feat, as a means of preventing the main obstacle to a godly life. Without a doubt, it is impossible to demand that all Christians leave their homes and go into the desert to be saved; this is impossible to fulfill. However, anyone who cares about his soul must and can avoid the world to the extent that the world can harm his salvation. Why, for example, not stop unnecessary connections with people from whom we cannot stand and from whom we receive nothing but harm? Why shouldn’t a family man be content with communicating within his family circle and limit his relationships with the world only to cases of real necessity? If this is not possible, then why, at least from time to time, for example, on holy days of fasting and holidays, do not tear yourself away from the bustle of the world in order to live for God and your soul for at least a few days? It should be noted, however, that the difficult feat of withdrawing from the world can be futile or even harmful work if it is not based on a good intention, an exclusively pious goal. Removal from the world, according to St. John, is a deed pleasing to God and truly useful for the ascetic himself only when it is undertaken either for the sake of the future kingdom, i.e. in order to more easily and more accurately complete one’s earthly destiny - preparation for a blissful eternity; or by a multitude of sins, i.e. with the goal of devoting one’s life to constant mourning of past errors, far from worldly bustle and entertainment; or out of love for God, i.e. with the desire to give your heart completely to the Lord, inflamed with a holy feeling of love for God, to give your heart completely to the Lord, to devote all of yourself to Him, to live for Him alone and to live in Him alone with your whole soul. “If,” notes the reverend teacher, “(those who left the world) did not have any of the listed intentions, then the alienation of the world was reckless.” Understanding leaving the world as a monastic vow, as a decisive step towards a life devoted exclusively to the service of God, to the improvement and salvation of the soul, St. John gives those entering this difficult field many pieces of advice that he needs to know in advance. We cannot fail to mention here, at least, the most important of them: 1. When there is a calling from God to an ascetic life in monasticism, one must follow this call. “If,” he says, “the earthly King calls us to military exploits in front of his face, we do not refuse, but immediately come to him, then let us be all the more attentive to ourselves, so that the King of kings, who calls us to this angelic rank, having disobeyed through laziness and negligence, does not turn out to be unrequited for us at the Last Judgment.” The multitude of sins that make a person supposedly unworthy of the monastic vow cannot be a fair reason for evading the highest rank. On the contrary, according to the Reverend, strong medical benefits are needed there, where the disease is great. 2. However, one should not decide to undertake the monastic feat lightly. “Let everyone who is approaching this cruel, cramped, difficult feat see that they have come to be thrown into the fire. And so let everyone first tempt himself, and so let him eat from the bread of the monastic life with a bitter potion, let him drink from a cup dissolved in tears, and let him not fight against himself.” 3. It is especially good to take on the good yoke of Christ in youth, since in youth a person can change himself more easily than in later years. “It is good for a man,” says the Prophet of God, “when he bears the yoke in his youth” (Lamentations 3:27). “Dedicate the labors of your youth to Christ willingly,” says St. Climacus, - and in old age you will rejoice in the wealth of your virtue” 27. 4. In any case, one must embark on the path of the cross and self-sacrifice for purely pious motives 28, with joy and cheerful spirit 29. 5. Having decided once and for all to embark on the path of monastic life, first of all you must choose an experienced leader. It is especially necessary to try to make a good start, to be strict with yourself and attentive to your duties from the very first days of your monasticism. “From a valiant beginning,” says the Reverend, “benefits will certainly flow to us even in our very exhaustion, if it comes, for a courageous soul, when it begins to weaken, is awakened again to courage by the memory of its former jealousy.” One must meet and accomplish future exploits with a cheerful and cheerful spirit, without grumbling and slavish fear. “As worthy of praise are,” says the Venerable One, “from the very beginning those who fulfill the commandments of God with all joy, joy and zeal, so worthy of pity are those who, having spent a long time in monastic asceticism, walk with lamentation, if only they walk, along the path of virtues.” But by renouncing the world and visible abandonment of it, the ascetic does not completely break with the world. Having retired into the desert and run away from people, a person can follow worldly life with his thoughts and hearts and indulge in the vain worries of life and, thus, bring into solitude the harmful influence of worldly life. Therefore, the second feat of the ascetic is the setting aside of worldly concerns. The essence of asceticism is to completely tear your soul and thought away from what the ascetic renounces with his lips and withdraws outwardly, to fulfill in its entirety the commandment of the Apostle: “Do not love the world, nor the things that are in the world” (1 John 2:15). It is necessary to cut off any attachment to everything with which the sons of this age console themselves; it is necessary to suppress partial attachment to everyone, even to relatives, so that communication with them and care for them does not interfere with the main work of the ascetic. “A true monk,” says the Reverend, “will not love at all, and will not think about, and will not care about silver, nor about acquisitions, nor about parents, nor about worldly glory, nor about a friend, nor about brethren, nor about anything earthly, but he rejects all worldly things and all care for them, and, moreover, he hates his very flesh.” Such complete renunciation is required by both the will of the Lord and the essence of a God-imitating holy life: “If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father and mother, and wife and children, and brothers and sisters, and indeed his own life, he cannot be My disciple” (Luke 14:26). And indeed, whoever wants to be on the path to heaven must cut off all passionate earthly attachments: “no warrior binds himself to the affairs of this life in order to please the military commander” (2 Tim. 2:4). It is necessary to trample on everything earthly in order to philosophize on what is above. The whole world must be thrown out of the heart in order to give it entirely to undivided love for the infinite God. Otherwise, our mind will soon be covered with the darkness of sensual, vain, and unclean thoughts. From an eagle, which should soar in the pure air, contemplate the sun of spiritual and Divine truth, our mind will turn into a mole, rummaging in the earth, in the dust and in the corruption of worldly, carnal affairs, alien to the spirit. Soon the heart will be completely closed to holy love for God, becoming a receptacle for feelings and affections as earthly and unclean as the thoughts of the mind. Without a doubt, only monks who have forever renounced the world in order to live for God alone are obligated to perform this feat. But to some extent, this feat is both accessible and required of every Christian, since his main concern should be the salvation of the soul. Everything that does not nourish spiritual life and does not contribute to spiritual growth, as perishable and fleeting, should not be for a Christian such a treasure to which his heart would be attached. According to the apostolic commandment, all Christians must live in such a way that “those who have wives are as if they had not; and those who weep as if they were not weeping, and those who rejoiced as if they were not rejoicing; and those who buy, as if they did not acquire; and those who use this world as if they do not use it” (1 Cor. 7:29-31). And he who lives in the world need not be carried away by the worries of life; Let him, in his ordinary affairs and pursuits of life, put aside unnecessary, over-anxious, vain care, which comes from immoderate desires, from a lack of faith in God and trust in His Providence. This feat seems painful only from afar. According to the testimony of St. John, it is not at all difficult for monks if either the love of God, or the desire for the future kingdom, or living repentance for their sins is alive and strong in them, i.e. those principles that prompted them to renounce the world are alive. Therefore, the best way to strengthen an ascetic who has felt some timidity and powerlessness in the face of the difficulties of a real feat is to affirm in himself the thoughts that attracted him to the ascetic life. But be that as it may, the main thing for a monk is not to relax, since he must certainly endure the feat. “Let us take heed to ourselves,” says the venerable teacher, “so that, while reputed to be walking along a narrow and sorrowful path, we in fact do not wander along a long and crowded road.” Freed from all earthly attachments, the ascetic will easily and freely follow his chosen path. Now he can only avoid any opportunity to get closer to the world again, to become attached again to what he renounced with such difficulty. Therefore, to the first two degrees of renunciation of the world, the third is added in the form of an addition - evasion from the world. It requires, in particular, the removal of: 1) From those persons who, in any way, can again tie an inexperienced ascetic to the world he left behind, namely: from people devoted to the world, and, if possible, even from relatives. The harm that can occur for a new monk from communicating with people of the first kind is understandable. Even instructive conversations with them that are innocent in their subject matter are of little use to a monk, but more often in the world one can end up in empty disputes between people of a damaged mind, alien to the truth, who think that piety is for profit. The apostle commands to avoid such people (1 Tim. 6:5), since “bad associations corrupt good morals” (1 Cor. 15:33). Therefore, the Venerable Climacus generally says: “Whoever, having rejected the world, turns to worldly people, or at least is close to them, will either fall into their own snare, or... will begin to condemn,” i.e. in any case, he will harm himself. It is equally important for an ascetic to avoid careless relations with his family. Frequent meetings with them, and in themselves already constituting considerable entertainment, can gradually attract him again to the world and completely extinguish the fire of heartfelt contrition. “Look, look,” the Venerable Monk says to the monk, “so that, due to addiction to your beloved relatives, all your well-being is not drowned, and so that, out of love for them, you yourself do not get bogged down in this stream.” “Therefore, the Venerable Climacus does not advise having connections with these persons, either under the pretext of seeking higher exploits and rewards in the case when we preserve ourselves, being surrounded by dangers: “Whoever advises us not to separate ourselves from worldly persons, imagining that we will receive a great reward for that if, looking at a woman, we abstain from her, we should not listen to him, and we must do the opposite”; not under the pretext of promoting the salvation of others by example or word. The Monk John does not deny that sometimes hermits actually bring benefits in this way, but in novices such desires are most often generated by their vain thoughts. Even if such a desire is sincere, and the one who wishes can bring some benefit to others, he needs to remember that not all of us give an account of the salvation of others, for the apostle says: “So, each of us will give an account for himself to God” (Rom. 14:12). And again: “How is it that when you teach others, you don’t teach yourself?” (Rom. 2:21). As if he were saying: “I don’t know whether to take care of others, but we should all try to take care of ourselves.” 2) From all places and objects that, in any way, can awaken in the soul a suppressed love for the world and worldly life. Such places often hide behind the guise of harmlessness and in this way lure even very well-intentioned people into themselves. To prevent the ascetic from falling into such deception, Climacus gives him the following rule: “You must enter places where there is not the slightest consolation, vanity, or pride. However,” notes the Reverend, “we go into the desert not out of hatred for our family or for the places we inhabit, but wanting to avoid the harm that comes from them to us.” This feat, although it seems to apply exclusively to monks, can be performed to its extent by Christians living in the world. They will receive a reward for this feat if they refuse to visit those places where sin and corruption of the soul hover, or, at least, they will try to protect themselves from their harmful influence, if they will avoid disorderly societies of people who do not have the fear of God, and turn their ears away from their obscene speeches. They will have a reward for this feat if they always keep their feelings for their relatives within such limits that attachment to them does not suppress the holy love for God, so that concerns about their well-being do not take away the opportunity to work on their spiritual salvation. Having thus led the ascetic far beyond the confines of the vain world and placed him on the path of salvation, the holy leader gives decent and beneficial advice: “Having ascended to this step, do not look either to the right or to the left, do not be entertained by anything extraneous, always have in your mind that high goal for which you are striving, and do not retreat a single step from the path you have chosen; Moreover, be afraid to even think much about the world you left behind, to take even a small deviation back; save you from this, God! Since “no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). Having renounced everything external and not being distracted by anything extraneous, with his salvation in mind, the ascetic must notice that the most important obstacles on the path to the holy work he has begun are within himself. Consequently, without yet entering into this very matter, he must first try to overcome these internal obstacles, to adjust himself in the way that the upcoming ascetic life requires. And, most importantly, the ascetic must deny himself, his self, crush within himself his proud and wayward character - this leaven of all evil for a person’s entire life. Not to do this means dooming your exploits to undoubted and complete futility, just as, on the contrary, if you first block the source of moral impurity, then you can hopefully successfully cleanse the silt that flows out of it. The Savior Himself prescribes self-denial as a preliminary act of asceticism: “If anyone wants to come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me” (Mark 8:34). In accordance with this, the Monk John, having led the ascetic through the external preliminary stages, first of all, demands from him the renunciation of his will and his reasoning, demands “blessed and ever-memorable obedience.” Since this feat is the main one, on which the good outcome of the entire ascetic life depends, he describes it in great detail. Obedience, in a general sense, is the subordination of one's will to the will of another. But there is nothing special about this yet. The power of Christian, monastic obedience lies in the fact that it is a free renunciation of one’s will due to humble distrust of it as an evil and corrupted will, in the fact that it is a free submission to the will of another person, as the will of Christ Himself, as the will of God. The dignity of this feat is determined by the degree of self-denial and submission to the leader. In a true monk, both should be in the highest degree. “Obedience,” says the Reverend, “is the rejection of one’s soul, is the grave of the will, the suspension of one’s reasoning, is distrust of oneself in all virtues until the end of life; there is an unhypocritical, complete surrender of oneself and even one’s salvation to another. In this, and only in this form, obedience is truly beneficial for the ascetic.” “The true novices,” he also says, “chose the shortest and shortest path; they swim across the sea of ​​life, being supported on top of the water by the hands of another.” However, a prudent ascetic who has decided to entrust his salvation to another must choose a leader for himself with all caution and prudence, so that, hoping in him to have a guide to salvation, he does not receive a guide to destruction. The Monk Climacus gives the following rule for this case: “Choose your leaders according to the quality of your passions. When you feel within yourself a great desire and desire for carnal lust, look for a fasting teacher, and not a miracle worker, and not one who is ready to accept anyone and treat them to a meal; when you see yourself as high-ranking or proud, then choose a mentor who is fierce and unforgiving, and not meek and humane,” etc. Having chosen a mentor in this way, you must have full power of attorney for him; be afraid to judge him; reveal all your sins to him, reveal your whole soul to him, so that the leader knows how to deal with his novice; show him unquestioning obedience in everything. Is this feat of obedience necessary and possible for a layman? Just as the type of rank requires special teachers, so the type of deed requires special leaders for every person without distinction. Therefore, it would be very useful for every layman if he decided to choose for himself a special mentor, knowledgeable and experienced in spiritual life, whose word would be strong for his good life, protected from errors by humility. Finding and having such an experienced leader with a sincere desire is not at all as difficult as it seems at first. The laity has pastors of the Church, spiritual fathers, parents, superiors, benefactors, experienced, prudent and enlightened people. The obedience rendered by the laity to such persons for the sake of the Lord and as to the Lord Himself will have the same value in His eyes as monastic obedience. Having blocked the source of evil in his heart, having humbled his will, the ascetic could, apparently, begin to cleanse himself from all the impurities of a sinful life. But first, he still needs to acquire a repentant and contrite spirit; first he must clearly recognize the full danger of his moral state. He needs to carefully and in detail examine and weigh all his shortcomings and weaknesses in order to know what and to what extent he needs to fight when he begins the very task of freeing himself from his former sinful life. Following obedience, the ascetic must acquire living and active repentance. Obedience contributes to this: it destroys self-delusion, absent-mindedness and laziness, helps the ascetic turn his searching gaze to himself and exposes his entire soul to him, so that the ascetic unhinderedly sees all his sinful impurity. Speaking here about repentance, the Monk John means not only the periodic cleansing of his conscience by confession before his spiritual father, but, first of all, constant contrition of the heart for the iniquities committed, a constant appeal to God’s mercy, long-term labors and languor of the flesh, as punishment for previous iniquities. “Repentance is self-condemnation; the repentant is a shameless condemner, and repentance, he says, by the way, is a constant rejection of bodily tenderness. The penitent is a torturer of himself.” Wanting to depict how one should perform this holy work of repentance and how to arouse oneself to it, the Monk John considered it best to imagine and describe how the ascetics, sincerely imbued with the consciousness of their spiritual poverty, repented. These blessed workers occupied a gloomy and dark place, offering no consolation, which is why it was called the Prison. Out of completeness of heartfelt contrition, they spent whole nights without sleep, standing in one place and looking at the sky, uttered groans and cries and shed whole streams of tears, wore sackcloth, and sprinkled ashes on their heads. Everything obscene, laughter, idle talk, etc., was banished far from them. Everyone, in the silence of mind and soul, in deep solitude, reflected on their sins and mourned them, without doing anything extraneous or having fun. As for their internal disposition, they all deeply felt their humiliation, fully recognized themselves as unworthy of God’s mercy, but at the same time, none of them despaired of receiving forgiveness, believing in God’s infinite mercy towards poor, sincerely repentant sinners. The ascetics blessed God in any case, whether the Lord opened the doors of His mercy to them or did not. “And if He opened the doors of heaven for us, then excellent and good; even if He did not open them, blessed is the Lord God, who has closed these doors for us through our unworthiness,” said the holy workers, and even though the Lord did not show them His mercy for decades, they did not cease to serve Him until the end of their lives. “Perhaps, after much of our shameless insistence, He will open the doors for us, according to His promise: “knock, and it will be opened to you” (Luke 11:9), they reasoned, wanting to arouse in themselves patience in the labors and pains of repentance. In addition to his narratives, which explain true spiritual repentance in such detail, the narrator also especially reminds ascetics of the need to beware most of all in the feat of repentance, on the one hand, despair in God’s mercy, and on the other, excessive hope for this mercy. Both equally prepare a person’s inevitable death. Is it necessary to prove that every Christian should not be alien to the spirit of repentance at any time, since there is no time in which anyone could say about himself: “I am clean from sin?” (Prov. 20:9). Is it necessary to prove that every Christian who wants to be a partaker of the heavenly calling should not be alien to this degree? “Repent,” says the Lord to everyone (Mark 1:15). Repent, the holy apostles also appeal to everyone. The Church appoints a time for open, general repentance and confession, but this does not relieve one from the obligation to lament sins before God at all times, to constantly internally confess to Him the iniquities committed and to create fruits worthy of repentance. Without continuous repentance of our spirit, even a godly and fruitful confession of sins is impossible. Heartfelt tenderness and contrition make our confession of sins true. But it is impossible to gain this favor suddenly. Following repentance, the Venerable One also prescribes a preparatory feat for the great work of self-purification from sinful acts and the delightful lusts of carnal life - remembrance of death. And quite fair. It, leading a person’s thought from the confines of the world to the afterlife and forcing from there to look at our earthly existence, reveals in all its nakedness all the insignificance, all the vanity of earthly life, spiritual, not sanctified by the highest aspirations of the spirit. Putting a person, so to speak, face to face before the judgment of God, which awaits everyone, it reveals the full extent of the gravity of crimes, the entire breadth of the disastrous effect on us of our passions, evil habits, thoughts, feelings and desires that are contrary to the Christian spirit. All this encourages a person to root out moral tares within himself and to constantly care about piety. “Remembrance of death,” says St. John further, “is daily death and remembrance of the outcome of one’s life.” That is, this degree requires not only temporary, done occasionally and then somehow by chance, remembering death, but constant, hourly, every minute; requires not only a cold and abstract representation of death without any heartfelt feeling, but so vivid that the ascetic sees himself as if already dead and standing before an impartial Judge. This mood of the soul, according to Climacus, is extremely beneficial, because with it a person does not easily fall into sin. This idea is clearly expressed in the Holy Scriptures: “Remember your end, and you will never sin” (Sir. 7:39). Being confident and assuring others of the great importance for us of remembering the last minute, St. John all the more carefully tries to warn against everything that could make this remembering fruitless. So, “to be afraid of death,” he says, “is excusable, because it is natural, but one should not tremble and be horrified. Trembling is a sign of unrepentance for sins. The man who daily expects his death is skilled; the saint who desires her hourly. But not every desire for death is laudable. There are people who humbly desire it because, out of habit, they are, as it were, forcibly drawn to sin. There are those who, not wanting to repent, call on her out of despair. And there are those who, out of pride, considering themselves dispassionate, do not tremble at death. But, finally, there are also those (if only at the present time there are any) who, through the action of the Holy Spirit, desire their departure from here, like the holy Apostle, who said about himself: “I have a desire to be released and to be with Christ” (Phil. 1:23). Remembering death often seems to people an activity that is too gloomy, difficult, and poisons the enjoyment of life, and therefore many try in every possible way to remove it from themselves. But it is precisely such people, surrounded by the various pleasures of life, who especially need to constantly have the hour of death before their eyes, so that they, living amid the everyday bustle that distracts their thoughts from heaven, from God, from eternity, can appreciate the true dignity and significance of all these transitory, petty, often destructive worries, activities and pleasures of spiritual life. “The true sign,” says St. John, “of those who remember death with heartfelt contrition is to have voluntary impartiality towards every thing of this world.” Just as remembrance of death has a living, direct connection with repentance, so joyful crying has a living connection with both of them. He is the fruit of both and a sign of the highest measure of success in them. Therefore, crying is also a means for the ascetic to cleanse himself from the impurities of a sinful life and is rightly placed on the seventh degree of the spiritual Ladder. “Crying,” according to St. Climacus, is the lamentation of a soul inflamed by the love of God and abiding in it for a long time. This lament precedes her blissful peace, protecting, cleansing and washing her from the impurity of vices.” Indeed, luxury, or glory, or anger, or temper will never come to mind for someone who is crying. However, this is not some kind of gloomy, joyless lamentation, hopeless mental torment. On the contrary, whoever has put on this blessed and gracious weeping, like a wedding robe, feels within himself true spiritual joy. This is strange and incomprehensible, however, it really is so. Our Reverend teacher was also amazed at this phenomenon. “When I talk about the properties of tenderness, I am very surprised how inner joy and joy could be contained in crying and sadness, like honey in a bee hive. What should be noted from this? The fact that such tenderness is a true gift from God. Then there is no such joy in the soul that is mixed with boredom, because God invisibly comforts the broken-hearted.” Crying is the fruit of repentance and remembrance of death, and therefore the best way to arouse tears of grace is a deeply attentive examination of one’s sins and a particularly intensified presentation of the punishments that we will suffer for them after death. “Continuously imagine and reason within yourself about that dark, fiery abyss, about the inexorable Judge, about the harsh tormentors, about the impassable abyss of underground flames, about Tartarus’ terrible places, about disastrous descents into dark abysses and about similar things.” This is the main tool. However, one should not neglect other, less important benefits, which can also lead to the desired goal, to move the soul to tenderness and the eyes to tears. “Let your very clothes excite you to shed tears,” says the Venerable One; for all those who mourn the dead usually wear a black dress. If you have no tears, then cry for this reason, and if you have, then weep even more, because you have brought yourself to sadness with your sins.” However, we must not forget that true crying is a gift from God. “The mourner does not achieve perfect crying when he himself wishes, but when God desires it.” Therefore, most of all, we need to ask Him that He Himself give us a spirit of heartfelt contrition. “When you reach crying,” says the reverend teacher, “try with all your might to hold it back, because before you get used to it, it disappears very easily 30. Crying disappears from everyday worries, bodily cares, luxury, and, mainly, from verbosity, idle talk and laughter - it melts like wax from fire. He who alternately cries and then indulges in reckless gaiety is like a man who, in order to drive away a voluptuous dog, holds a stone in one hand and bread in the other; Apparently he drives him away, but in fact he calls him to himself.” “No matter how high positions in life we ​​occupy, if we do not achieve heartfelt groaning, then all these branches of our life are unrighteous and indecent.” This is how the Monk Climacus talks about joyful crying in relation to worldly people! Worldly persons, i.e. most of them will not agree with this. “What is the need to poison all the joys, all the pleasures of life with sighs, tears and heartfelt complaints? Did God really give us this life so that we would only cry and be tormented in our souls, so that it would be a joyless torment for us? Tears and lamentations may be necessary and useful for those who exclusively devote themselves to matters of high asceticism, but not for us,” they will say. Indeed, let’s say in the words of our teacher: “God does not require and does not want a person to wear out his heart with groaning and cry, but wants him, inflamed with love for Him, to laugh and have fun.” But our sins, from which, of course, not a single layman would call himself free, require tears, like cleansing water. “It is necessary, truly necessary, that the things defiled after the bath, i.e. baptism, removed this impurity from their hands with the fire of heart of zeal, never extinguished. Take away sin, then the tears in the eyes of the body will dry up, since when there is no wound, there is no need for a plaster. Adam did not cry before the crime, just as after the resurrection, when human sins end, there will be no place for tears, since then illness, sadness and sighing will run away” (See Rev. 21:4). Therefore, it turns out that God created us for joy and pleasure, but from the day of Adam’s crime, the perfect fulfillment of this purpose of ours was transferred to the future life, and the present became, primarily, a time of mourning for sins. It is in this sense that the Reverend exclaims: “We are not invited here, beloved, to a marriage, but truly the Lord has called us to mourn our sins.” “We, brethren, will not be accused when our soul leaves the body for the fact that we did not work miracles, or did not theologize, or did not practice deep meditation, but for this we will give an answer to God that we never mourned our sins.” However, this very crying and this lamentation does not make life as joyless and painful as it seems to those who have not experienced them. On the contrary, crying for sins is joyful crying; it brings with it the purest, most sublime heavenly consolations, before which all earthly joys completely disappear. It can be said without exaggeration that if true joys are still possible on earth, they are acquired by crying over sins. “But the order and conditions of social life, which one living in the world should not neglect, prevent one from fully surrendering to the requirement of this degree,” the laity will say. Whatever this order and these conditions may be, “no place forbids anyone who has acquired spiritual tears to cry.” He who has reached the point of crying everywhere can carry with him in his heart the deepest contrition for his sins, the most living sorrow for God. With such a mood of soul, he will never be ashamed to express his feelings outwardly, and even if he does not shed a single tear, he will not lose anything from it. And whoever cries only outwardly, without having living pain in his heart, will always be applied to places and worldly customs. “Let us labor zealously in our youth, and let us live soberly, for the year of death is unknown. Let no one, being young, heed such suggestions: do not exhaust your flesh, so as not to fall into illnesses and infirmities, for hardly anyone, especially in these years, will kill his flesh, even if he is deprived of many sweet foods.” “However, the Monk John notes that no matter what purpose of this pious feat is proposed, our good Hero of Labor accepts it. We should not disdain and condemn those who, due to some unfortunate circumstances, were forced to renounce the world. “For I saw,” he says, “a seed that accidentally fell to the ground, and it brought forth abundant and fruitful fruit. For many, what happened accidentally served to greater benefit than if they had done it with intention and arbitrarily.” Let us flow with joy towards a good deed, without being embarrassed or afraid of our enemies who look at our face, although they themselves are invisible. “Try with all your might to preserve this holy and joyful sadness, which comes from blissful tenderness, and do not stop immersing yourself in it until it makes you a winner over all worldly temptations and presents you pure to Christ!”