sin, dispassion and freedom

i am part of group that meets once a week for discussion and prayer. we are currently beginning a series of discussions based on the seven deadly sins, and this has given me occasion to read john cassian's 'on the eight vices.' (i have been looking at the version which appears in the english translation of the philokalia)

cassian was a roman who moved to egypt and became a disciple of evagrios pontikos. evagrios was a disciple of the cappadocian fathers, who later moved to the desert of egypt and became one of the second generation of 'desert fathers.' after spending time in with evagrios in egypt, cassian traveled to constantinople and then back west to rome and to gaul. he eventually founded two monasteries, one for men and one for women, and he is generally credited with bringing the spirituality of the eastern monastics to the west.

evagrios is usually thought to be the originator of what eventually became the seven deadly sins. evagrios actually had eight vices on his list, as did john cassian. a couple centuries after cassian, the western monk, theologian and pope gregory the great adapted cassian's list and gave us the seven deadly sins as we more or less have them now: pride, envy, anger, gluttony, greed, lust and despair/sloth (acedia)

it interesting to note that this list of sins or vices does not list actions (such as lying or murder). rather, what the list picks out are more or less desires (at times cassian focuses on instances of these desires, and at other times on the disposition to such desires). this focus on desire is understandable if we recognize that the original context for the seven deadly sins is the spiritual practice of the desert fathers. the early eastern monastics (and much of eastern christian spirituality since then) understands the spiritual life largely as a struggle to achieve a state of dispassion (απαθεια).

this focus on dispassion can be a bit hard to swallow; witness the meaning that now attaches to the english word 'apathy', a word derived from απαθεια. the monastic notion of dispassion has much in common with the stoic notion of aπaθεια, and most of us, i suspect, are much more attracted to the aristotelian picture of desire and emotion than the stoic picture: desires and emotions should be trained rather than extinguished, and, properly trained, emotions are not a hindrance to living well but rather a play a central role in living a good and praiseworthy life. moreover, isn't this negative view of the passions part of the (much referred to) 'christian hatred of the body'? and doesn't it reflect a kind of irresponsible and escapist 'otherworldliness'?

to be fair to the monastics, it should be stressed that dispassion actually has little in common with the english 'apathy' -it does not mean a lack of concern or indifference. it is consistent with (indeed, requires) compassion for others and suffering on their behalf. it is also involves intense love for god:
'when, however, through great attentiveness the soul begins to be purified, it also begins to experience the fear of god as a life-giving medicine which, through the reproaches it arouses in the conscience, burns the soul in the fires of dispassion. after this the soul is gradually cleansed until it is completely purified; its love increases as its fear diminishes, until it attains perfect love, in which there is no fear, but only the complete dispassion which is energized by the glory of god.' -diadochos of photiki

that said, it remains that the ideal of dispassion conflicts with many of our common-sense intuitions about what desire and emotion are appropriate. consider the fact that anger is listed as a vice. for aristotle, anger itself is not a vice; rather, one must feel anger at the right times and in the right way, etc. and most of us are inclined to think that there are occasions when one should feel angry at others, and that a lack of anger is a sign of insufficient concern for justice or low self-esteem. in contrast, cassian insists: 'in saying 'all', he (Paul) leaves no excuse for regarding any anger as necessary or reasonable...similarly, anger, whether reasonable or unreasonable, obstructs our spiritual vision. our incensive power can be used in a way that is according to nature only when turned against our own impassioned or self-indulgent thoughts.' this is a radical view about anger, and one that virtually not of us support, not to mention succeed in living out.

several notions are central to the monastic understanding of passion and dispassion. one of the most important is that of illness. the passions are a disease in the soul, the spiritual life is a program of treatment in which the soul is brought to a state of health in dispassion, and god is the great physician who brings about this healing.

another key idea is that of being a slave to one's passions. this, i think, gets at the heart of the monastic ideal of dispassion: what is ultimately at issue is freedom. the passions seize control of a soul. they take over the soul, tossing it to and fro. in this way, a person's freedom is diminished, if not destroyed. (this notion of enslavement is closely connected to the metaphor of illness. with a physical illness, one is passive and out of control. i do not choose to have the flu, and when i get the flu i lose a measure of control over my body and what i am able to do. similarly, the passions seize the soul and control it.)

once we see this, we can recognize that the monastic ideal of dispassion is not as alien to our values as it might have first seemed. nor is it an unmotivated, or driven simply by a 'hatred of the body' or 'denial of this life'. at the risk of gross anachronism, we might even say that the monastic ideal of dispassion is driven by the value of agency. of course, the monastic notion of freedom is importantly different from most contemporary notions of freedom, either common-sense or philosophical. but for that very reason, it may turn out that we can find in the monastic view a notion of freedom that offers a critique or corrective of our own views.

nevertheless, it remains that there is something 'otherworldly' about monastic spirituality, and there is also a deep suspicion of the body. how exactly to construe these elements is not easy, and i think they are frequently mischaracterized. still, consider the following passage from cassian's discussion of the demon of unchastity or lust: 'indeed, he who has trampled down the pleasures and provocations of the flesh is in a certain sense outside the body. thus, no one can soar to this high and heavenly prize of holiness on his own wings and learn to imitate the angels, unless the grace of god leads him upwards from this earthly mire.'

i, for one, am not sure what say about the ideal of being 'outside the body', or seeing this life as bogged down in an 'earthly mire.' partly i think that something has gone seriously wrong with monastic spirituality at this point, but i am also wary of the current fashion of easily dismissing this way of thinking.