“The root of all disturbance, if one will go to its source, is that no one will blame himself.”
— Dorotheos of Gaza, sixth-century monk
I laughed out loud when I first read that quote many years ago.
This one’s pretty funny, too: “The man who thinks that he is quiet and peaceful has within him a passion that he does not see.”
I seldom think I’m quiet and peaceful myself, but others often claim to be, and it comforts me to think that beneath the surface they’re actually roiling with angst, jealousy, and fear, too.
Dorotheos (often spelled Dorotheus) was a sixth-century monk and abbot (the year of his birth is unknown) who lived at the monastery of Seridus near Gaza.
He emphasized humility — a virtue that can only be attained by a personal relationship with God through Christ.
During his life, he was overshadowed by the fame of Barsanuphius, a desert hermit and Dorotheos’ spiritual mentor, later canonized, who was widely venerated as a holy ascetic.
He died sometime between 560 and 580, and the compilation of his writings that have come down through the centuries is believed to have taken place soon after.
Recently I dove into “Dorotheos of Gaza: Discourses and Sayings” (Liturgical Press, $18.51).
Chapter titles include “On Conscience,” “On the Fear of God,” “On Refusal to Judge Our Neighbor,” “On Self-accusation,” and “On the Fear of Punishment to Come and the Need for Never Neglecting One’s Salvation.”
Notes translator Eric P. Wheeler, “the life of Dorotheos was a hidden one, he lived in the shadow of a greater name and made a point of keeping aloof from the polemics of the day and the place where he lived.”
He was also warm, down-to-earth, and gently witty. From a wealthy family, he had a hard time giving up his possessions; for a time he was prey to temptations of the flesh, and he had no capacity for severe mortifications.
His insights into how we really think and act, in spite of our good intentions, are timeless.
Who among us today, for example, doesn’t identify with this phenomenon?:
“When I am at peace and recollection in my cell, I get a message to go carry out some special duty. I go and do it, but when it is done I don’t go back to my cell, but stay around on one pretext or another, doing this and that, and I get tied up with things that can well go on without any need for my intervention. Then I get back to my cell in the evening, full of dryness and disgust with the things of the spirit, full and darkness and spiritual sloth and discouragement.”
What owner of a cellphone, on which we can “take a little walk,” ask thousands of questions, and investigate gossip, couldn’t profit from this passage from “On Renunciation”?:
“In a short time a man can cut off ten [instinctive] desires. He takes a little walk and sees something. His thoughts say to him, ‘Go over there and investigate,’ and he says to his thoughts, ‘No! I won’t,’ and he cuts off his desire. Again he finds someone gossiping, and his thoughts say to him, ‘You go and have a word with them, and he cuts off his desire, and does not speak. Or again, his thoughts say to him, ‘Go up and ask the cook what’s cooking?’ and he does not go, but cuts off his desire … little by little [a man forms] a habit of it, so that from denying himself in little things, he begins to deny himself in great things without the least trouble.”
Never confront a brother unless your own heart is entirely free of rancor, judgment, or resentment, counsels Dorotheos.
Better to say nothing in social situations than to engage in idle gossip and chatter, or to broadcast another’s faults for the purpose of exposing him rather than from compassion.
As for his favorite subject, the chapter “On Humility” contains this interesting passage:
“Humility is a great and divine work and the road to humility is labor, bodily labor, while seeking to know oneself and to put oneself below everyone else and praying to God.”
Having fallen away by disobedience, he continues, we have come to love our pleasure and our independence. We’ve become “completely fleshly” — and a fleshly person is a proud person.
“[T]he dispositions of soul of a healthy person are one thing: those of a sickly person, another; of a hungry person, another; of a well-fed person, another.” Thus, “Let work humble the body, and when the body is humbled the soul will be humble with it.”
We may not be manual laborers or, say, mothers: occupations that by their nature consist of bodily work. But in an age where we spend so much time sitting in front of a laptop or scrolling through our phones, we can walk once in a while instead of driving, take the stairs instead of an elevator, keep an orderly house, desk, and car, recycle instead of throwing away, exercise, do our own yard work.
The point isn’t the degree of exertion, but rather the degree of love.
None of this is easy. “Unless a man sweats blood, he will never be free [of bad temper].”
Instead of trying to tear down those with interior calm and peace, maybe one day I can celebrate them.
Maybe one day I could even approach, with true curiosity and love, and ask them how they do it.
