Anchorage in Reality

imitating the faith of Abba Anthony

“I saw the snares that the enemy spreads out over the world, and I said, ‘What can get through such snares?’ Then I heard a voice saying to me, ‘Humility.’”

Yesterday was the feast for St Anthony of Egypt, also known as St Anthony the Great and Abba Anthony of the Desert, the Father of All Monks (he is also the patron saint of our diocese). He is the best known of the Desert Fathers, thanks in no small part to St Athanasius’ Life of Anthony.

Rowan Williams, in his foreword to Vivian’s and Athanassakis’ translation, says the challenge of Anthony’s life has to do first and foremost with what we imagine power to be:

Our culture is in love with certain kinds of power: military and financial leverage, bullying certainties about politics and ethics, the extraordinary and paradoxical power that comes from clinging to the status of victim—all of them varieties of power that have nothing to do with feeling for and living from the grain of reality.

Against all those pressures, Williams argues, we are called to live by faith, which is not the capacity to work miracles but “the sheer anchorage in reality that nourishes and centers us in a world regularly distorted by self-destructive obsessions.”

We think of St Anthony as larger-than-life, more angel than man—and not without reason. Rightly regarded, however, his life reminds us that we are called to take what comes to us in ways that keep us open to God and neighbor, which requires being continuously delivered from vanity—that inevitable result of thinking that others need us in ways they most certainly do not, as if they could not get by without our “ministry”—a disease which manifests as moody, mouthy, meddlesome religiosity.

A prayer for the day asks God to grace us so that we might follow Christ, as St Anthony did, “with pure hearts and minds.” Yes. Amen. We must be careful, however, not to think of that purity in moralistic terms—as if what God wants is for us never to need mercy instead of for us to give and receive it with joy.

Abba Anthony’s purity was not the proof or effect of his sinlessness but the modest, unaffected self-awareness worked through his soul as he fought to remain present to the meekness and simplicity of God. That, I believe, is the purity we are all called to model. And we can be sure that it will come, as, following Abba’s advice, we are quick to answer to God for our sins, expecting temptation to our last breath, never obsessing about our righteousness or our reputation but crucifying our fantasies of control over others by learning to hold our tongue—even when we have every right to speak.

These themes appear often in the stories told about Abba Anthony. Here’s one of my favorites:

When Abba Anthony thought about the depth of the judgments of God, he asked, “Lord, how is it that some die when they are young, while others drag on to extreme old age? Why are there those who are poor and those who are rich? Why do wicked men prosper while the righteous are in need?” He heard a voice answering him, “Anthony, keep your attention on yourself; these things are according to the judgment of God, and it is not to your advantage to know anything about them.”

Here’s another:

Many people came and disturbed Anthony’s quiet life. He was not able to be alone as he wished. And the Lord used Anthony to work wonders. So Anthony was afraid. He said to himself: “I shall become full of pride or others will think I am better than I am.” He thought this over carefully and decided: “I shall go to the Upper Thebaïd. Nobody will know me there.”

And one more:

One day some old men came to see Abba Anthony. In the midst of them was Abba Joseph. Wanting to test them, the old man suggested a text from the Scriptures, and, beginning with the youngest, he asked them what it meant. Each gave his opinion as he was able. But to each one the old man said, “You have not understood it.” Last of all he said to Abba Joseph, “How would you explain this saying?” and he replied, “I do not know.” Then Abba Anthony said, “Indeed, Abba Joseph has found the way, for he has said: ‘I do not know.’”

So, as we try to take those stories and sayings to heart, let us honor Anthony and the God he has helped us to know by praying this prayer, aspiring to mean it, even a little:

Almighty God, mercifully keep us ignorant of everything we do not expressly need to know, prevent us from prying and meddling, especially when our motives are pure, and never let us think that it is our job to save our neighbor. Amen.