MONASTERIES AND THE CARE OF SOULS

I N L AT E A N T I Q U E C H R I S T I A N I T Y

In Monasteries and the Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity,

Paul C. Dilley explores the personal practices and group rituals
through which the thoughts of monastic disciples were monitored
and trained to purify the mind and help them achieve salvation.
Dilley draws widely on the interdisciplinary field of cognitive stud-
ies, especially anthropology, in his analysis of key monastic “cogni-
tive disciplines”, such as meditation on scripture, the fear of God,
and prayer. In addition, various rituals distinctive to communal
monasticism, including entrance procedures, the commemoration
of founders, and collective repentance, are given their first extended
analysis. Participants engaged in “heart-work” on their thoughts and
emotions, which were understood to reflect the community’s spiritual
state. This book will be of interest to scholars of early Christianity and
the ancient world more generally for its detailed description of com-
munal monastic culture and its innovative methodology.

Paul C. Dilley is Assistant Professor of Ancient Mediterranean

Religions at the University of Iowa and has published widely on early
Christianity in Late Antiquity, especially in Egypt and Syria. He is
co-editor of the Dublin Kephalaia Codex and co-author of Mani at
the Court of the Persian Kings (2014).
MONASTERIES AND THE
C A R E O F S O U L S I N L AT E
ANTIQUE CHRISTIANITY
Cognition and Discipline

PAU L C .  D I L L E Y
University of Iowa
 University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom
One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, NY 10006, USA
477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia
4843/24, 2nd Floor, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, Delhi – 110002, India
79 Anson Road, #06-04/06, Singapore 079906

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge.

It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of
education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence.

www.cambridge.org
Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107184015
DOI: 10.1017/9781316875094
© Paul C. Dilley 2017
This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception
and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements,
no reproduction of any part may take place without the written
permission of Cambridge University Press.
First published 2017
Printed in the United Kingdom by Clays, St Ives plc
A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Dilley, Paul C., author.
Title: Monasteries and the care of souls in late antique Christianity:
cognition and discipline / Paul C. Dilley, University of Iowa.
Description: New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017. |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017008236 | ISBN 9781107184015 (hardback)
Subjects: LCSH: Monastic and religious life – History – Early church, ca. 30-600.
Classification: LCC BX2465.D55 2017 | DDC 271.009/051–dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017008236
ISBN 978-1-107-18401-5 Hardback
Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs
for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not
guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
MONASTERIES AND THE CARE OF SOULS
I N L AT E A N T I Q U E C H R I S T I A N I T Y

In Monasteries and the Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity,

Paul C. Dilley explores the personal practices and group rituals
through which the thoughts of monastic disciples were monitored
and trained to purify the mind and help them achieve salvation.
Dilley draws widely on the interdisciplinary field of cognitive stud-
ies, especially anthropology, in his analysis of key monastic “cogni-
tive disciplines”, such as meditation on scripture, the fear of God,
and prayer. In addition, various rituals distinctive to communal
monasticism, including entrance procedures, the commemoration
of founders, and collective repentance, are given their first extended
analysis. Participants engaged in “heart-work” on their thoughts and
emotions, which were understood to reflect the community’s spiritual
state. This book will be of interest to scholars of early Christianity and
the ancient world more generally for its detailed description of com-
munal monastic culture and its innovative methodology.

Paul C. Dilley is Assistant Professor of Ancient Mediterranean

Religions at the University of Iowa and has published widely on early
Christianity in Late Antiquity, especially in Egypt and Syria. He is
co-editor of the Dublin Kephalaia Codex and co-author of Mani at
the Court of the Persian Kings (2014).
MONASTERIES AND THE
C A R E O F S O U L S I N L AT E
ANTIQUE CHRISTIANITY
Cognition and Discipline

PAU L C .  D I L L E Y
University of Iowa
 University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom
One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, NY 10006, USA
477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia
4843/24, 2nd Floor, Ansari Road, Daryaganj, Delhi – 110002, India
79 Anson Road, #06-04/06, Singapore 079906

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge.

It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of
education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence.

www.cambridge.org
Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107184015
DOI: 10.1017/9781316875094
© Paul C. Dilley 2017
This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception
and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements,
no reproduction of any part may take place without the written
permission of Cambridge University Press.
First published 2017
Printed in the United Kingdom by Clays, St Ives plc
A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Dilley, Paul C., author.
Title: Monasteries and the care of souls in late antique Christianity:
cognition and discipline / Paul C. Dilley, University of Iowa.
Description: New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017. |
Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017008236 | ISBN 9781107184015 (hardback)
Subjects: LCSH: Monastic and religious life – History – Early church, ca. 30-600.
Classification: LCC BX2465.D55 2017 | DDC 271.009/051–dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017008236
ISBN 978-1-107-18401-5 Hardback
Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs
for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not
guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
 To Roxanna, Sienna, and Sebastian,
And In Memoriam Julie Anne Dilley (1948–2015)
 Contents

Acknowledgments page ix
List of Abbreviations xi

Introduction 1

Part I: E valuati ng Postul a nts 21

1 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 39
2 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 67

Part II: C o g ni ti ve Di sci pli nes 97

3 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape:
Writing on the Heart 110
4 Learning the Fear of God 148
5 Prayer and Monastic Progress: From Demonic Temptation
to Divine Revelation 186

Part III: C ollecti ve Hea rt- Work 221

6 The Lives (and Minds) of Others: Hagiography, Cognition,
and Commemoration 233
7 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness: Rituals of Collective
Repentance 260
Conclusion 292

Bibliography 299
Index Locorum 329
Subject Index 341
vii
 Acknowledgments

This book is the culmination of a decade of research conducted in multiple

locations, including Connecticut, Germany, Egypt, France, Pennsylvania,
and Iowa. It is based on my 2008 Yale dissertation, which has been signifi-
cantly expanded and refocused over the years. During this time I was hap-
pily immersed in various humanities-based approaches to understanding
cognition and culture, and realized their potential for understanding the
early monastic care of souls; I also decided to restrict my studies to coe-
nobitic communities, in which the sources provided the clearest evidence
for the connection between cognition, community, and bodily practices.
I am grateful for the support of many people who have helped me to
bring this project to completion, offering feedback on the manuscript at
multiple stages. First, my dissertation director, Bentley Layton, whose
scholarly acumen and dedication has provided an invaluable example for
my academic development, for providing encouragement throughout the
long course of this book’s development; to Stephen Davis, who hosted
me in Cairo during my first trip to Egypt in 2002, and has offered sage
advice on this work and others throughout my graduate student career and
beyond; to David Brakke, who offered crucial feedback on both the disser-
tation and the manuscript submitted to CUP for review. Tanya Luhrmann
has been an inspiring conversation partner on theory of mind and other
aspects of research in cognitive anthropology; she graciously read the book
manuscript and offered valuable feedback in key points of methodology.
Other colleagues have generously read selections from the manuscript
at various stages and offered helpful advice:  Harold Attridge, Elizabeth
Bolman, Sebastian Brock, Catherine Chin, Malcolm Choat, Ann Hanson,
Mariachiara Giorda, Becky Krawiec, Dale Martin, Ellen Muehlberger, and
Brent Nongbri. Any remaining shortcomings in this book are of course
my own.
I have enjoyed significant financial support from various funding
agencies for work on this book:  the Jacob K.  Javits Fellowship in the
ix
x Acknowledgments
Humanities; the American Research Center in Egypt and the National
Endowment for the Humanities, which made possible onsite study of rel-
evant Coptic monasteries; the Alexander von Humboldt Foundation, for a
renewal of my German Chancellor fellowship during the summer of 2006,
through the generous hospitality of my host at the Westfälische-Wilhelms
Universität, Münster, Professor Dr.  Stephen Emmel; and the Woodrow
Wilson Foundation, for a Charlotte Newcombe Dissertation Fellowship.
I have also benefited from the mentoring and sage advice of colleagues
in Religious Studies and Classics at my own institutions: at Penn State,
Anne Rose, Gonzalo Rubio, and the late Paul Harvey; at the University
of Iowa, Diana Cates, John Finamore, Craig Gibson, Robert Ketterer,
Linda Maxson, Raymond Mentzer, Kristy Nabhan-Warren, and Ahmed
Souaiaia. A University of Iowa Old Gold Fellowship provided funding for
a summer of research and writing. I have also benefited from the work of
two RAs: Joshua Langseth, for assistance in checking the footnotes; and
Peter Miller, who helped to format the manuscript according to the guide-
lines of Cambridge University Press. I would like to thank Michael Sharp
and his colleagues at CUP for their sound advice, skill, and professional-
ism at every stage.
I thank my parents, Julie and Gerald, for encouraging my academic
pursuits from a young age, happily taking me to the Metropolitan and the
Natural History Museums as my interests shifted between and across the
humanities and sciences. I thank my brother Jason for his empathy and
always-inspiring conversations. I thank my wife Roxanna Curto for shar-
ing with me in love and intellectual curiosity, from our time as graduate
students at Yale to our work on the University of Iowa. Along the way, she
has read several drafts of this book and provided vital feedback and sugges-
tions from the perspective of a humanities scholar in another discipline.
During the course of writing this book, we have experienced the joy of
welcoming two amazing children into the world and beginning our jour-
ney together. This book is dedicated to Roxanna, Sienna, and Sebastian,
and to the memory of my mother Julie, who died before any of us were
ready to say goodbye.
 Abbreviations

Unless otherwise specified, abbreviations of authors and titles follow

Lampe, A Patristic Greek Lexicon, and Blaise, Dictionnaire latin-français des
auteurs chrétiens.

CCSL Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina, (Turnhout,

1953–)
CSEL Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum,
(Vienna, 1866–)
CSCO Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium,
(Louvain, 1903–)
C. Th. Codex Theodosianus
Ep. Am. Epistula Ammonis, ed. J. Goehring
HL Palladius, Historia Lausica, ed. D.C. Butler
HM Historia Monachorum, ed. A.-J. Festugière
Hors., Instr. Horsiesius, Instructions, ed. L-Th. Lefort
Hors., Test. Horsiesius, Testament, ed. D.A. Boon
LR Longer Responses=Regulae Fusius Tractatae, PG
31:890–1052
Paralip. Paralipomena from the Life of Pachomius, ed.
F. Halkin
Pach., Instr. Pachomius, Instructions, ed. L-Th. Lefort
P, PInst, PIud, PLeg Pachomius, Praecepta, Praecepta et Instituta,
Praecepta atque Iudicia, Praecepta ac Leges, ed. D.A.
Boon, L-Th. Lefort
PG Patrologia cursus completus:  Series graeca, ed. J.-P.
Migne (Paris, 1857–1886)
PL Patrologia cursus completus:  Series latina, ed. J.-P.
Migne (Paris, 1844–1864)
PO Patrologia Orientalis (Paris, 1907–)
RB Regula Benedicti, ed. A. de Vogüé
xi
xii Abbreviations
RBas Basili Regula, ed. K. Zelzer
RM Regula Magistri, ed. A. de Vogüé
SC Sources chrétiennes (Paris, 1943–)
SR Shorter Responses= Regulae Breviter Tractatae, PG
31:1079–1309.
Theo., Instr. Theodore, Instructions, ed. L-Th. Lefort
V. Pach. Ar. Arabic Life of Pachomius, ed. É. Amélineau 1889
V. Pach. SBo Great Coptic Life of Pachomius, ed. L-Th. Lefort
V. Pach. S1, S2, etc. Sahidic Lives of Pachomius, ed. L-Th. Lefort
V. Pach. G1 First Greek Life of Pachomius, ed. F. Halkin
V. Pach. G2, G3, etc. Greek Lives of Pachomius, ed. F. Halkin
 Introduction

In Sheneset, a small village in Upper Egypt near the desert, the young
Pachomius, formerly a soldier in the Roman army, set out to overcome
human sinfulness. He was particularly concerned with evil thoughts, which
he came to identify as both the reason for and consequence of Adam and
Eve’s disobedience. Pachomius gradually built a large federation of monas-
teries, the Koinonia, gaining fame for his guidance of disciples, including
scriptural instruction. In one catechesis, he offers a striking reformula-
tion of God’s warning not to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge: thus,
“you will perish” (Gen. 2:17) is interpreted as “you will sin against me,
and evil and wicked thoughts will multiply for you.”1 When Adam and
Eve neglected God’s command, “their eyes were opened in evil, through
disobedience, and thus he cast into their heart many evil passions.”2 In
another instruction, Pachomius similarly claims that God created Adam
“upright,” but “through his own will he turned to evil thoughts, and he
angered the God who created him.”3
While Adam’s disobedience had severe consequences for human nature,
and especially human cognition, Pachomius found cause for hope in bib-
lical salvation history. In what is probably an address to monastic cat-
echumens of a pagan background, like himself, he explains:  “Since the
beginning of the world, after the transgression of Adam, humans have
erred, not desiring the law of the conscience, nor recognizing God, maker
of all, through the wondrous, fearful, many-faceted creation.”4 As a result,
humans make Gods for themselves, fulfilling Satan’s promise in Paradise,

1
V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99–100: 323). Unless otherwise stated, all translations of Greek, Latin, Coptic
and Syriac are my own, and the footnote refers to the original text.
2
V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99–100: 325). Pachomius explains that God did not want Adam to know good
and evil because “it is a burden for him, because he is a fleshly person, and whenever he considers
evil he will be moved by it.”
3
V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 142).
4
Paralip. 37 (Halkin: 161).

1
2 Introduction
“you will be like gods” (Gen. 3:5). Pachomius continues with an exposi-
tion of godlessness through the time of Noah, when God, recognizing
humans’ free will, demonstrated his mercy through the law of Moses,
which offered guidance in many areas of life, “including how to think and
how to speak.”5 He describes the Israelites wandering in the wilderness as a
proto-monastery, with God “nourishing them, free from care, with bread
from heaven.”6
As a monastic founder, Pachomius sought to provide the same kinds
of care he understood the Israelites to have received.7 By the time of his
death around 345 CE, he had established a confederation of nine affiliated
monasteries, the Koinonia. He endowed these monasteries with an insti-
tutional structure based on an evolving set of written regulations. Monks
were expected to work on behalf of the community, in return for which
Pachomius provided them with basic material support, including food,
clothing, and burial. He also claimed the right to assign them labor, to
regulate their daily schedule, to enforce discipline when necessary, and
even to question and advise them on their thoughts and emotions.
The biographical tradition offers a clear and succinct account of
Pachomius’s two-fold care for his disciples: “After so many monasteries
came under his administration and oversight, Father [Pachomius] took
care (epimeleian) of them in a double sense: he provided their bodily needs
for them, and offered reform and progress for souls.”8 Pachomius thus pro-
vided both material support and care for the soul. A negative articulation
of this double responsibility is found in the Testament of his later succes-
sor Horsiesius, who issues a warning to monastic leaders: “Do not refresh
them with respect to bodily things and neglect to provide them with spiri-
tual food. Or conversely, do not teach them spiritual things and afflict
them with respect to bodily things, that is, food and clothing.”9 Shenoute
likewise describes “people who care for them [monastics] in every thing,
whether in scriptural teaching or in food and clothing, and also in their
illness and all the things through which caregivers serve them.”10 The same
5
Paralip. 38 (Halkin: 162).
6
Paralip. 38 (Halkin: 162).
7
Described as the “care of the siblings” (fratrum cura) in Test. 10 (Boon: 114). There are similar injunc-
tions to “take care (rowsh) of the siblings’ souls” in the Greek (V. Pach. G1 28) and Coptic (V. Pach.
SBo 26) Lives. Similarly, Basil of Caesarea speaks of the “care of the siblings” (LR 45, PG 31: 1032C).
8
V. Pach. G4 49 (Halkin: 450); cf. V. Pach. G4 33 (Halkin: 432).
9
Hors., Test. 7 (Boon:  112); cf. Hors., Instr. 5.  The Coptic biographical tradition includes similar
juxtapositions (e.g. V. Pach. SBo 51, 52).
10
Layton 2002, 32, with notes. His successor Besa more closely recalls the basic dichotomy of
Horsiesius: “Take care (2nd person pl.) of their souls according to God and do not allow them to
lack what they need for our way of life” (Besa, Frag. 27, CSCO 157: 87).
 Introduction 3
complementary responsibilities are recognized outside the Egyptian tradi-
tion: for example, Basil associates the responsibility of providing for “bodily
need” (sōmatikēn chreian) with “the care of souls” (epimeleian psychōn).11
This dual provision of care positioned the monastery as a surrogate
family, in which basic needs, including emotional support, were met by
significant others.12 Yet disciples were not born into this monastic family:
they were first subjected to various entrance procedures, including property
renunciation, and had to practice obedience and follow community rules,
under threat of expulsion. Pachomius’s social experiment thus also recalls
the pervasive structure of Late Antique patronage: a reciprocal exchange
that is both enduring and asymmetrical, in which each party must ful-
fill certain expectations.13 Basil uses the traditional language of patronage
in his description of the monastic superior’s responsibility for the “care
and direction of the many” (epimeleian kai prostasian tōn pleiōnōn).14 The
disciples, in turn, were required to accept their living arrangements and
job assignments, as well as to participate actively in the care of souls, for
example by revealing and disciplining their thoughts.
The care of souls in cenobitic monasticism was an elaborate process of
instruction, discipline, and ritual with the goal of salvation, which placed
leaders and disciples in a reciprocal relationship of obligations. I do not
directly address the material aspects of patronage, which would require
a separate study of monastic economics; but material effects indirectly
affected the care of souls in various ways. With respect to power relations,
many disciples were rendered completely dependent on the monastery
through the renunciation of property; they were unlikely to leave, even
when faced with harsh discipline, if they had few options for self-support
outside the monastery. More generally, division of labor through a com-
plex institutional structure provided time and resources for key activities
in the care of souls, such as literary instruction, scriptural discussion, and
communal prayer.
The earliest account of Pachomian monasticism by an outside observer,
the Lausiac History, marvels at the complexity of its institutional structure.
Its author Palladius describes various aspects of daily life, such as eating,
sleeping, and praying; as well as the monastery’s organizational structure,

11
Basil, LR 33 (PG 31: 997).
12
For the monastery as a surrogate family, see Krawiec 2002, 144–159, noting the provision of food,
clothing, and emotional support; see further Crislip 2005a, 39–67, with a focus on health care. For
care of the elderly and permanently disabled, see Layton 2014, 55.
13
Following the generalized definition of patronage in Saller 1982, 1.
14
Basil, SR 235 (PG 31: 1240); the same two terms are also combined in V. Pach. G4 (Halkin: 455).
4 Introduction
including the house system and dress.15 Unlike other sections of this work,
which praise the impressive renunciations, miracles, and teaching of indi-
vidual ascetics, Palladius locates the virtue of communal monasticism in
the organized pursuit of salvation by anonymous disciples. Although the
Pachomian Rules have long been cited as a key early witness for cenobitic
institutions, the best-documented example is the monastery of Shenoute,
a large community in middle Egypt across the Nile from Panopolis, from
which over several thousand rules have survived.
Drawing on this extensive source material, Bentley Layton has described
the “totalising new world” encountered by new monks, in which “each
thing that the monastery provided came with its own, new set of fixed
patterns (of roles, attitudes, bodily performances, terminology, etc.). The
substitution of these new patterns in place of the ones belonging to the
old civilian life is the essence of monastic resocialization or world replace-
ment.”16 The process of joining a monastic community thus involved learn-
ing the daily routine, new roles, and activities; that is, the internalization
of cognitive schemas directed toward the goal of salvation.
Indeed, Layton notes the extensive mental training enmeshed in the
institutional structure: “the totalising character of the system even extends
into the mind and voice of the monk when he is alone in his cell, for in this
situation he is commanded to continue doing simple handiwork with his
hands while he meditates [Greek meletan is the verb] with his brain and his
vocal cords.”17 This intense cognitive activity distinguished monasticism
from other ancient “total institutions,” such as the army: while becoming
a soldier certainly involved learning a new ideology, there were no insti-
tutional settings and roles in the Roman army which required a similar
exercise of the mind.18 Within monastic communities, by contrast, illiter-
ate monks were taught to read, while all disciples memorized Scripture and
were encouraged to insert various biblical passages into their own stream
of cognition.
Despite the size and imposing structure of cenobitic institutions, the
care of souls involved substantial individual counseling between superiors
and their disciples, as is particularly evident in Pachomian sources. Yet

15
Pall., HL 32.
16
Layton 2007, 59.
17
Layton 2007, 71. Elsewhere in the same essay he refers to “institutional order, an inevitable reality
that almost totally filled the mental and social space inside the walls of the monastery” (Layton
2007, 73).
18
On Roman army discipline and its ideology, see Phang 2008. Conversely, the organization and mate-
rial care found in monasticism was absent from the informal circles of Graeco-Roman philosophy.
 Introduction 5
studies on spiritual direction have largely focused on the semi-eremitic
system, especially as found in the Apophthegmata Patrum, going so far as
to claim that the cenobium precluded detailed attention to individual dis-
ciples, and did not include confessions.19 The earliest sources for cenobitic
monasticism also emphasize the efforts of the community’s director to
offer counseling to every individual in the community. Thus, Pachomius is
said to have toured the cells of individual monks, “examining the brothers,
and correcting the thoughts of each one.”20
Pachomius’ efforts to provide material and psychological care for his dis-
ciples are likened to a “shepherd truly taking care of his flock: the weak he
nourished in the pastures of righteousness, and the vicious he bound with
the cords of the Gospel.”21 This strategy of pastoral care recalls classical
psychagogy’s “mixed method” of praise and rebuke according to individual
character, except for its emphasis on Scripture. Despite the large commu-
nity, his personal concern for each “sheep” is again emphasized: “And he
would fashion the souls of each of them according to their measure, being
very zealous that, if someone turned away from him, no one else would be
able to return him to the work of God thereafter.”22 Pachomius’s respon-
sibility for his disciples is here formulated negatively: disciples who leave,
or are expelled from the monastery, are condemned, because no one else is
able to care for their souls more effectively.
Horsiesius offers a lengthier statement of monastic pastoral authority in
his Testament: Chapters 7–18, and 39–40, form an “Obernspiegel,” or “mir-
ror for superiors.”23 He urges those in authority to “take care of the flock
committed to him with all caution and solicitude.”24 Appealing to both
Luke 2 and John 10:11–13, at multiple points he demands that monastic
leaders “keep watch” over their sheep through nightly vigils, guarding them
against attacks from the “wolves,” namely temptations. Horsiesius reminds
them how Pachomius constantly emphasized the stakes of otherworldly
reward and punishment, for both master and disciple: “Let us not despise
any soul, lest someone perish on account of our hardness [of heart]. For, if

19
E.g. Dörries 1962, 297, who further contrasts the use of punishment by Pachomius and Basil with
the semi-eremitic ethic, which allowed disciples to make mistakes and learn from experience.
20
Paralip. 27 (Halkin: 15). Similar claims are made of his successor Theodore; see the Introduction to
Part Two for more details.
21
V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99/100: 118). On Pachomian spiritual direction, see Ruppert 1971, Rousseau 1985,
Brakke 2006, 78–96, Giorda 2009.
22
V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99/100: 119).
23
I borrow the term from the discussion of the relevant passages, namely Precepts and Institutes 18, and
Testament 7–18, 39–40, in Ruppert 1971, 328–337.
24
Hors., Test. 17 (Boon: 119).
6 Introduction
someone has died because of us, our soul will be held accountable, in place
of that one’s. . .”25 In particular, leaders must not favor some and neglect
others, because this jeopardizes their care for both the favored and the
despised.26
In his Tanner Lectures on Human Values, delivered at Stanford in October
1979, Michel Foucault outlined a provocative yet understudied analysis of
the pastor as a figure of authority in early Christian spiritual direction.27
While acknowledging occasional descriptions in classical literature of rulers as
shepherds – an image frequently ascribed to God in the Hebrew Bible – he
argued that the ideal of pastoral authority took on new configurations related
to the exercise of power in early Christianity. Foucault specified four inter-
related developments, contrasting them with earlier Graeco-Roman notions
of governance. First, authority is directed over a group, a “flock,” rather than
a specific territory. Second, power is not exerted in defense of a territory, nor
to attain victory over another group, but through the constitution and main-
tenance of the flock. Third, it is based on knowledge of the flock’s individual
members, who practice obedience, especially through the practices of self-
examination and confession. Fourth, and finally, the goal of pastoral author-
ity is the otherworldly salvation of the flock, in return for their renunciation
of the world.
Foucault’s analysis is helpful in its emphasis on the novelty of pasto-
ral authority, and largely reflects early monastic sources, even if it over-
looks the importance of material provisions.28 There is no question that
Christian psychagogy was distinguished from its predecessors by the goal
of salvation, as achieved through the general practice of obedience, and
individual counseling sessions (“confession”) in particular.29 References to

25
Hors., Test. 13 (Boon: 117). Cf. Hors., Test. 15, in which the housemasters are held responsible for any
offences committed in their house because of their negligence.
26
Hors., Test. 15–16. A similar vision of pastoral authority is found in the Rule of the Master; see the
discussion of the later influence of Horsiesius’s Testament in de Vogüé 1961, 100–113.
27
According to Foucault, the monastic notion of pastoral authority and the classical notion of citizen-
ship are the two major antecedents of the modern Western state: Foucault 1999a. Pastoral authority
was further analyzed in the fourth volume in the History of Sexuality series, “Confessions of the
Flesh,” which was incomplete at the time of his death and remains unpublished; however, the main
outlines can be discerned in several articles and lectures, to which I occasionally refer in the course
of this study.
28
For a recent historical treatment of ancient Christian pastoral care, especially as practiced by bish-
ops, see Allen and Mayer 2000. They emphasize patronage networks related to justice, charity, and
social welfare, while identifying monastic pastoral care as the “spiritual guidance” of individuals.
Demacopoulos 2006 explores how ascetic practices were adapted to the responsibilities of the epis-
copal office.
29
Foucault elsewhere emphasizes the importance of obedience for the monastic care of the self
(Foucault 1999b, 174–175).
 Introduction 7
obedience as a practice of ethical cultivation are indeed largely absent from
Graeco-Roman philosophy. More recently, Giorgio Agamben has sug-
gested that the absoluteness of monastic obedience is at the root of totali-
tarianism.30 By contrast, Louis Dumont has argued that monasticism gave
rise to modern Western individualism.31 This latter view is consistent with
the emerging consensus among specialists of Late Antiquity that signifi-
cant new conceptions of individuality, associated with Christianity, were
emerging in the late Roman period.32 So what to make of these dueling
assertions of monasticism’s place in cultural history?
The earliest monastic sources on obedience suggest a complex answer.
In the Pachomian tradition, as well as Shenoute’s writings, obedience was
due both to the rules and to the leader who transmitted and enforced
them.33 A  number of Latin monastic authors suggest that cenobites are
distinguished from anchorites by this requirement of obedience towards a
superior.34 In one sense, this is a consequence of the superior’s patronage
of individual disciples, who, in exchange for basic material support, had
to accept all work assignments, living arrangements, scheduling, and dis-
cipline, including corporal punishment. But unlike conventional patron-
age, obedience was not simply about behaving as expected: “Even if the
disciple fulfills what has been ordered, nevertheless God will not accept it,
because he sees his complaining heart. . .”35 Thus, the disciple’s obedience
to orders and rules had to be matched with the correct internal disposi-
tion, and this was a matter of personal agency: monks were encouraged to
imagine that they had the freedom and responsibility for sculpting their
own cognitive life.
The most important practice of the Pachomian care of souls was its
novel focus on the training of thoughts, including the reformation of

30
Agamben, in his discussion of the Rule of the Master, suggests that “the whole life of the monk has
been transformed into an Office and the very harshness of the prescriptions concerning prayer and
reading articulate just as meticulously every other aspect of life in cenoby” (Agamben 2013, 82–83).
31
Dumont 1992.
32
For example, Stroumsa describes “the new sensitivity to the individual that appears in Late
Antiquity” (Stroumsa 1990, 26, with bibliography); cf. Zachhuber and Torrance 2014. For an analy-
sis of changing conceptions of the self in Origen, Plotinus, and Proclus, see Cox Miller 2009, 18–41.
33
For the history of the distinction between “abbot” and “rule” in the Western coenobitic tradition,
see de Vogüé 1971.
34
Cass., Conf. 18:4. Cf. Hier., Ep. 22:34. Sulpicius wrote that, for the many disciples in the monaster-
ies near the Egyptian desert, “the highest law is to live according to the command (imperio) of the
abbot” (Dial. 1:10, Halm: 161–162). Basil, for his part, writes that monks have “delegated to another
to direct their activity” (LR 41, PG 31: 1024).
35
RM 7 (SC 105: 396). Cf. Theo., Instr. 3:13; Besa, Frag. 1 (quoting Shenoute, Frag. 16, cf. Emmel
2004a, 90); and Faustus, Hom. Ad Monachos 3:5 (CCL 101A: 443–444).
8 Introduction
“complaining hearts.” This training was not limited to professing the
correct theological doctrine, but was focused on the regulation of the
disciples’ cognitive stream. It is an important component of a rising inter-
est in the individual during Late Antiquity, which was at the same time
cultivated in a strictly hierarchical community, under the supervision of
monastic leaders. Thus, the revelation of thoughts was an act of obedience
to the superiors, as was following their advice and accepting discipline.
Yet this process also involved the monk’s willing and active participa-
tion in cognitive discipline. According to Pachomius, everyone was born
with free will, and had the obligation to exercise it in the struggle against
temptation:36
Every person whom God has created, from Adam on, has the power to
choose for themselves between good and evil; and even if someone’s nature
is evil from childhood, he has surely received it from his parents’ evil nature.
But the Lord is not to blame for this, because such a person has the freedom
to gain control over the passion by fighting against it.
This emphasis on universal free will suggests a radical individualism, based
on responsibility for regulating one’s own thoughts, which must be carried
out under the care of the spiritual director.
The training of thoughts distinguished monastic paideia from tradi-
tional rhetorical and philosophical instruction. Thus, the ancient rhe-
torical trope that moral speech must be reflected in moral action was
expanded by the Egyptian ascetic Paphnutius: “For the faithful and good
man must think the thoughts sent by God; he must say what he thinks
and act according to what he says. For if the way a person lives is not
in accord with the truth of his words, then such a person is like bread
without salt.”37 Here proper speech and action is grounded in divinely
sent thoughts. A story from the Syriac version of the Apophthegmata
Patrum explicitly asserts that attention to thoughts renders monastic pai-
deia superior to its classical counterparts. When some philosophers visit
a group of desert fathers, asserting that they too fasted and lived in con-
tinence, a monk declares, “We keep watch over our minds,” to which the
philosopher responds: “We are unable to keep watch over our minds.”38
The importance of thoughts for ethical practice is succinctly captured in

36
V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 142). Similarly, Pachomius claimed that God offered the law of Moses
as an aid to “free-willed humans, free-willed not only for evil, but also for good” (Paralip. 38,
Halkin: 161). For a similar understanding of the consequences of Adam and Eve’s transgression in
On the Origin of the World (NHC II, 5), see Painchaud and Wees 2002.
37
Pall., HL 47.
38
Budge 1934, 53.
 Introduction 9
Basil’s monastic rule, which distinguishes between sins “in thought, word,
and deed.”39
In short, the monastic care of souls was founded especially on metacog-
nition, that is, “one’s knowledge concerning one’s own cognitive processes
and outcomes and anything related to them.”40 This concept is frequently
used in developmental psychology to describe the various learning strate-
gies of students, but it is equally apt for the constant evaluation of mental
processes required of monastic disciples and their directors. A story about
the young Pachomius’s vigilant attention to his own mental life offers an
authoritative example of such metacognition:41
As an anchorite, before the establishment of the Koinonia, he attended to
the other Beatitudes very much, in order to be found pure in heart. And
while struggling he did not allow a foul thought into his heart to dwell in
it. He was always meditating on the fear of God, the remembrance of the
judgements, and the torments of the eternal flame. His heart was as vigilant
as a bronze door, secure against robbers.
Thus, Pachomius was at once a shepherd of disciples and of thoughts – his
own and others’.42 The institutions he would develop within the Koinonia
provided support for this pastoral guidance of the mind:  new forms of
discipline to regulate cognition.
Such vigilance was necessary because of the constant parade of thoughts
faced by monks, a dangerous and disorderly cognitive stream that had to
be evaluated and controlled. There is certainly some overlap with the Stoic
idea of propatheia, psychological movements which can be rejected, but
not prevented. But in Christianity, many of these thoughts have become
malevolent: persistent demons whose goal is to make monks consent to
sin.43 The disciple faced an ongoing struggle against temptation and self-
will, drawing on the direction and support of a counselor, as well as insti-
tutional training in Scripture, the fear of God, and prayer. In the midst of
the imposing structure of the early Christian monastery, freed from the
concern of providing one’s physical needs, the internal world of the mind
became a primary site of discipline.

39
Basil SR 75, RBas. 195, trans. Silvas 2005, 314. He is probably drawing on Origen, who argued that
“words, deeds, and thoughts” must be kept free from sin to obtain purity of heart (Or., Hom. in
Gen. 3:7, PG 12: 185C); for additional passages, see Tavares-Bettencourt 1945, 76.
40
Flavell 1976, 232.
41
V. Pach. G1 18 (Halkin: 11).
42
Cf. the presentation of the anchorites as shepherds of their own cognitive representations in Evagr.
Pont., Thoughts 17.
43
The substitution of evil thoughts for propatheia is traced back to Origen in Sorabji 2000, 343–356.
10 Introduction

Towards a Cognitive Historicism

Given the emphasis on evaluating and reforming thoughts in the monas-
tic care of souls, I  will draw upon the insights of cognitive science, the
interdisciplinary study of the human mind and its processes, including
perception, attention, memory, emotion, imagination, consciousness, and
reason.44 Within the humanities, scholars of literature were among the first
pioneers in adapting insights from this new field, and “cognitive cultural
studies” continues to gain momentum.45 Many of the early studies draw
on cognitive linguistics, and in particular Lakoff and Johnson’s concep-
tual metaphor theory, which explores how basic metaphors shape human
thought, while recent work has turned especially to Fauconnier’s concep-
tual blending theory, which accounts for how new concepts are formed
from old ones.46
In the academic discipline of Religious Studies, a vibrant field of
research known as the Cognitive Science of Religion (CSR) has developed.
The cognitive science of religion draws heavily on evolutionary psychology
to argue that “religion” develops from certain discrete areas (“modules”)
of adapted human cognition.47 For example, Pascal Boyer explains belief
in “supernatural agents” as an offshoot of the evolved tendency for “agent
detection,” that is, the attribution of human agency to a wide variety of
events, including natural phenomena, even if there is no evidence for it.48
In the area of ritual, McCauley and Lawson have proposed an influential
typology based on presumed innate mental capacities for generative “ritual
grammar.”49 Several recent studies apply CSR to Late Antique religions,
including early Christianity.50
Unlike most work in CSR, I  do not seek to explain religious beliefs
and practices by assuming and appealing to various evolutionarily adapted

44
For a recent introductory overview of cognitive science, see Frankish 2012. Hogan 2003 remains an
effective introduction to cognitive science as it relates to the humanities.
45
For some representative studies in this area, see the contributions in Zunshine 2010.
46
Conceptual metaphor theory is introduced in Lakoff and Johnson 1980, conceptual blending theory
is laid out in detail in Fauconnier and Turner 2002. For the applicability of the latter to the study of
late antique religion, see Lundhaug 2010, who offers cognitive readings of two Nag Hammadi texts,
Exegesis on the Soul and the Gospel of Philip.
47
For recent overviews of the Cognitive Science of Religion, see Pyysiäinen 2012 and Geertz 2010. For
its connections to “classical” theories of religion, see Xygalatas and McCorckle 2014.
48
Boyer 2001.
49
McCauley and Lawson 2002.
50
E.g., the collection of essays in Luomanen, Pyysiäinen, and Ustro 2007, and the work of István
Czachesz, e.g. Czachesz 2012, discussed in Chapter 4. For an extensive, if provisional, application of
CSR to an ancient religion, see Beck 2006, a study of Mithraism.
 Introduction 11
mental capacities; nor do I draw upon the controversial “just-so” stories
of evolutionary psychology, which appeal to diachronic and reductionist
explanations.51 Anthropologist Tanya Luhrmann notes the failure of this
approach to take into account cultural complexity: “Evolutionary psychol-
ogy does not explain how God remains real for modern doubters. This
takes faith, which is often the outcome of great intellectual struggle.”52
Similarly, Vlaud Naumescu, in his ethnology of contemporary Ukrainian
monasticism, urges scholars to begin “reconsidering the relationship
between cognition and culture beyond the strictly evolutionist approach
of the cognitive science of religion,” while taking into account “historicity,
emotionality, and materiality.”53 Finally, research in CSR often includes a
reductive cross-cultural definition of religion, for example as belief in and
transmission of “minimally counterintuitive concepts.”54 This approach
has been critiqued by cognitive anthropologist Maurice Bloch, who refuses
to define religion, instead arguing that it is a varied outgrowth of specifi-
cally human imaginative capacities.55
While there are multiple approaches to cognitive anthropology, a use-
ful synopsis is provided by one of its first practitioners, Roy D’Andrade,
who states that it “investigates cultural knowledge, knowledge which is
embedded in words, stories, and in artifacts, and which is learned from
and shared with other humans.”56 This insight is in conflict with Clifford
Geertz, who condemned early cognitive psychologists (as well as their
behaviorist predecessors) as reductionist; for him, culture is public, and
thus not subject to individual thoughts and emotions, which are hidden
from others. While Geertz’s insistence on the importance of symbols is
a fundamental insight, cultural symbols are not just external. They also
form mental schemas which have motivational force: “Cultural models
are presupposed, taken-for-granted models of the world that are widely
shared (although not necessarily to the exclusion of other models) by the
members of a society and that play an enormous role in their understand-
ing of that world and their behavior in it.”57 Monastic discipline certainly

51
The term was first used in Gould and Lewontin’s critique of adaptationism (1979), and applied to
evolutionary psychology in Gould 1997.
52
Luhrmann 2012a, xii. For a similar critique of CSR, see Laidlaw 2007.
53
Naumescu 2012, 227. Whitehouse 2007 proposes combining the “cognitivist” and “interpretive”
approaches to anthropology, while maintaining the evolutionist assumptions of CSR.
54
Boyer 1994.
55
Bloch 2008, a position of significant overlap with recent critical genealogies of religion (e.g.
Nongbri 2013).
56
D’Andrade 1995, xiv.
57
Holland and Quinn 1987.
12 Introduction
involved “public” acts, such as bodily asceticism, biblical recitation, or cor-
poral punishment in front of the congregation; at the same time, these
practices were intimately connected to the deliberate cultivation of specific
cognitive, affective, and imaginative capacities.
My engagement with cognitive theory, and especially cognitive anthro-
pology, necessitates comparative research that draws connections between
ancient monasticism and groups that are far removed chronologically and
geographically.58 Such an approach strives for a delicate balance of cross-
cultural similarities and local specificity: as Tanya Luhrmann notes in her
study of theory of mind, “There is no doubt that humans in all known
cultures learn to infer intention and knowledge from the behavior of other
humans; yet at the same time, ethnographers observe that the inferences
they draw are probably shaped not only by developmental capacity but
by cultural specificity.”59 I thus reject the strict universalism of Luther
Martin’s proposal for a “cognitive historiography” dedicated to discovering
universal historical “rules” based on evolutionary trends.60 By contrast, this
book pursues a “cognitive historicism,” on the model of New Historicism,
with its emphasis on understanding texts in their historical and ideological
context, as well as uncovering the mechanisms of power in cultural rep-
resentations.61 Similar approaches are found in the recent historiography
of emotions. For example, Barbara Rosenwein’s concept of “Emotional
Communities” has particular resonance for this study: “Groups in which
people adhere to the same norms of emotional expression and value –
or devalue – the same or related emotions.”62 As highly structured envi-
ronments, cenobitic monasteries were also “Cognitive Communities,” in
which disciples were taught how to monitor, evaluate and regulate their
thoughts and emotions, guided by the advice, support, and discipline of
their superiors.
In fact, emotions are closely tied to cognitive activity. As Robert Kaster
notes in his study of emotions in Latin literature, “any emotion term is
just the lexicalized residue of what happens when the data of life are pro-
cessed in a particular way  – through a sequence of perception (sensing,

58
For the necessity of comparison in the study of Late Antique religions, see Frankfurter 2012,
with an elegant argument in favor of using ethnographic comparanda and anthropological
models.
59
Luhrmann 2011, 6.
60
Martin 2011.
61
The term has already been used in cognitive literary studies: see Spolsky 2003.
62
Rosenwein 2006, 2. On Shenoute’s White Monastery federation as an emotional community, see
now Crislip 2017.
 Introduction 13
imagining), evaluation (believing, judging, desiring) and response (bodily,
affective, pragmatic, expressive)  – to produce a particular kind of emo-
tionalized consciousness, a particular set of thoughts and feelings.”63 When
reconstructing ancient emotions, Kaster recommends attending to this
whole sequence of events, called a “script,” which offers a much richer
picture than a reduction of emotions to simple, “hard-wired” biological
events.64 While ancient sources do not provide access to the unmediated
experience of emotions, they offer insight into “the structures of thought
that shape emotional scripts. . . .”65 This is particularly evident in monastic
instruction in the fear of God and various related types of prayer, which
describe how to evaluate new thoughts, the proper mental response to
them, and the resulting emotions.
The most important concept from the cognitive sciences for the training
of thoughts in ancient monasticism is the “theory of mind,” namely “the
cognitive capacity to attribute mental states to self and others,” in which
“mental states” include “perceptions, bodily feelings, emotional states, and
propositional attitudes (beliefs, desires, hopes, and intentions).”66 Theory
of mind has been famously explored by developmental psychologists
through the “false belief ” test, in which children are interviewed to deter-
mine whether they understand that other people can possess inaccurate
knowledge about, for instance, the location of chocolate which has been
moved.67 These experiments concluded that, around the age of four, chil-
dren begin to recognize that others have particular mental states of which
they and others are unaware, but which can be inferred.
While theory of mind as elaborated by cognitive psychologists is based
on the idea that humans have the capacity to infer mental states, cogni-
tive anthropologists have observed that these mental states are imagined

63
Kaster 2005, 8.
64
For Kaster, attending to the role of cognition in emotion allows for a deeper consideration of
cultural specificity: “Returning the spotlight to cognition means that culture too – with its role in
shaping judgements or beliefs and in giving us the emotion-talk by which we make our experiences
intelligible – has gained a central place in the little drama that must be grasped as a whole” (Kaster
2005, 9). See also the observation that “Unlike the neo-Darwinian view, the cognitivist model is
hospitable to the idea that the nature of the emotions is strongly conditioned by the social environ-
ment” (Konstan 2006, 22).
65
Kaster 2005, 10.
66
Goodman 2012, 402.
67
In the classic test (Wimmer and Perner 1983), children observe a puppet show in which one of the
characters, “Maxi,” is outside playing while someone moves a piece of chocolate; when “Maxi”
returns, the children are asked where Maxi will look for the chocolate. While three to four-year-olds
point to its actual location, four to five-year-olds point to its former location, because they infer that
Maxi will assume, incorrectly, that it is still there.
14 Introduction
in culturally varied ways. Building on a variety of ethnographic evi-
dence assembled for an international conference devoted to this subject,
Luhrmann proposes six different theories of mind which can be identi-
fied across cultures: the Euro-American secular theory of mind; the Euro-
American modern supernaturalist theory of mind; the opacity theory of
mind; the transparency of language theory; the mind-control theory; and
perspectivism.68
According to the Euro-American secular view, “Entities in the world,
supernatural or otherwise, do not enter the mind, and thoughts do not
leave the mind to act upon the world. . .At the same time, what is held
in the interior of the mind is causally important. Intentions and emo-
tions are powerful and can even make someone ill.” This strongly bounded
view of the mind is modified in the Euro-American supernaturalist theory
as follows:  “The mind-world boundary becomes permeable for God, or
for the dead person, or for specific ‘energies’ that are treated as having
causal power and, usually, their own energy. The individual learns to iden-
tify these supernatural presences, often through implicit or even explicit
training.”69 Luhrmann’s distinction between the “secular” and “supernatu-
ralist” types in the modern West implies that various theories of mind
can co-exist within a single culture, and that a developmentally acquired
theory of mind can be modified through training, as in the case of early
Christian monasticism.
The six models in Luhrmann’s proposed typology are distinguished by
their differences with respect to various “dimensions of mind:” whether
the mind is perceived as “bounded” or “porous;” the significance attached
to “interiority,” that is, “are emotions and thoughts understood to be caus-
ally powerful and significant?;” the “epistemic stance,” namely, the status
of imagination as a privileged path to reality or simply a transient figment;
the “sensorial weighting,” for instance, the particular emphasis given to
sight (at the expense of smell) in the modern West; and “relational access”
to the thoughts of others, including “relational responsibility” to act upon
this knowledge.70 These dimensions make it possible to apply the anthro-
pological theory of mind to ancient monasticism, which has strongly
marked positions within them.
In this study, I argue that the training of thoughts practiced by early
Christian monks led to the gradual acquisition of a new and particularly

68
Luhrmann 2011, 7.
69
Luhrmann 2011, 6–7.
70
Luhrmann 2011, 7–8.
 Introduction 15
monastic theory of mind. Through instruction and discipline, monks
learned the various “dimensions” of the monastic theory of mind. First, that
the mind is permeable: thoughts arise not only from the interior self, but
also through divine guidance or demonic temptation. Second, whatever
the origin of these thoughts, they were of fundamental moral significance,
even if they did not directly lead to action, and disciples were responsible
for managing them with the help of a more experienced counselor. Third,
learning how to cope with bad thoughts required training one’s imagina-
tive capacities, for example through meditating upon emotionally charged
visualizations of heaven and hell. Fourth, in addition to such visionary
practices, audition was a key aspect of the monastic sensorium, as monks
trained their ear to internalize the biblical proclamations of monastic rhet-
oric, while ignoring demonic “whispers.” Finally, the monastic theory of
mind had a very particular view of “relational access:” disciples learned
that God was aware of their private thoughts, which were also known to
certain inspired saints.
The monastic theory of mind was acquired by what I call “cognitive dis-
ciplines,” a group of related practices intended to develop the mental, emo-
tional, and imaginative capacities of disciples. The three primary cognitive
disciplines are the study, meditation, and recitation of Scripture, which
disciples learned to incorporate into their speech and thought stream; the
“fear of God,” which was based on the emotionally charged imagination
of sinners’ shame and guilt at the divine judgement; and prayer, which
cultivated mental focus and an attitude of thanksgiving, by visualizing the
grandeur of God’s creation and the heavenly court. Scriptural practice, the
fear of God, and prayer all required individual effort, as well as participa-
tion in monastic institutional procedures.
Indeed, cognitive disciplines trained embodied minds, through “heart-
work” on thoughts and emotions that was closely integrated with vigils,
labor, fasting, corporal discipline, and other forms of physical exertion.71
They should not be construed through the strict Cartesian division of
mental processes (res cogitans) from the physical world (res extensa), includ-
ing the body, which was absent from Graeco-Roman culture.72 Embodied
cognition in ancient Christian monasticism took many forms. For exam-
ple, the “recurring patterns of kinesthetic, proprioceptive action that

71
I adopt the term “heart-work” from Barsanuphius’s phrase “labor of the heart” in Letter 265, on
acquiring discernment, written to his famous disciple Dorotheus (SC 450: 244).
72
For the inapplicability of the strict mind/body distinction to the Graeco-Roman world see, e.g., the
recent discussions in Holmes 2013.
16 Introduction
provide much of people’s felt, subjective experience,”73 which enacted the
coordination of body posture, speech, emotion, and memorization dur-
ing scriptural recitation and prayer. Cognitive disciplines also demonstrate
that “many abstract concepts are partly embodied, because they arise from
embodied experience and continue to remain rooted in systematic pat-
terns of bodily action.”74 Thus, corporal punishment cultivated the sense
of pain associated with the fear of God. Finally, embodied monastic cogni-
tion involved close interaction with the material environment, including
the habit, church paintings, and the cell.75
The cognitive disciplines of scriptural practice, fear of God, and prayer
were employed in a variety of monastic (and other ancient Christian) life-
styles. Evagrius of Pontus, who lived and taught in the communities of
Nitria and Kellia to the south of Alexandria, frequently touches on them
in his elaborate and highly theorized descriptions of the ascetic life.76 His
treatises include Thoughts, in which the sinful logismoi are chronicled, and
the Antirrheticus, which prescribes scriptural responses to them; he dis-
cusses prayer in On Prayer and several advanced treatises, including the
Kephalaia Gnostica.77 While the Evagrian corpus and related texts offer a
rich source for ancient Christian cognitive and affective theories, I have
not included them in this study, because they do not offer the detailed
evidence for the social and institutional context of thoughts and emotions
that is found in cenobitic sources.
Cenobitic communities included various institutional supports for
cognitive discipline, such as education in literacy, scriptural instruction,
closely monitored group prayer meetings, and extensive discipline. And
the care of souls in cenobia involved several distinctive components, such
as the entrance procedures to assess commitment and determine charac-
ter, and group rituals of commemorating the community’s founder and
collective repentance.78 All of these practices encouraged the adoption of
a particularly monastic understanding of the mind, and were intended

73
Gibbs 2006, 12.
74
Gibbs 2006, 12.
75
See the important study of Chin 2013, who highlights the importance of materiality in applying
Edwin Hutchins’s theory of socially distributed cognition to ascetic communities.
76
For Evagrius’s teachings on the monastic life, see, e.g., Driscoll 1994, Guillaumont 2004, and
Kalvesmaki and Young 2016.
77
The Antirrheticus is translated, with commentary, in Brakke 2009; on Evagrian prayer, cf. Stewart
2001, Dysinger 2005, and Bitton-Ashkelony 2011.
78
In addition to cognitive anthropology, I draw upon other recent work in the resurgent anthropol-
ogy of religious instruction (on which see Berliner and Sarró 2007). Particularly relevant for early
Christian monasticism are the studies of Saba Mahmood (Mahmood 2005) and Charles Hirschkind
 Introduction 17
to fashion an ideal form of that mind. Disciples carried out this heart-
work on their thoughts and emotions through their own efforts, but also
under the direction of significant others, from charismatic leaders such as
Pachomius, to house directors who enforced penalties. I explore this pro-
cess over seven chapters, divided into three parts.
The Introduction to Part One gives a brief outline of the sources for cen-
obitic monasticism and its spread across the Late Antique Mediterranean.
Rather than identify a primary social or cultural cause of its growth,
I  dwell on the evaluation of prospective monks, which Augustine com-
mented upon from the perspective of theory of mind.
In Chapter 1 I analyze how prospective monks’ motivations for joining,
and their potential for long-term commitment, were assessed primarily
based on their gender, status, and age; accordingly, this chapter also serves
as the first comprehensive description of the diverse social backgrounds
of cenobitic disciples. While monastic literature praises the ascetic life,
presenting it as the best path to salvation, there are also frequent appeals
to more mundane advantages, such as the avoidance of childbirth, civic
office, crushing poverty, or slavery. But this also led to an anxiety that
some monks joined due to necessities of personal circumstance, or a
coercive recruitment process, rather than the pursuit of heavenly virtue.
Commitment narratives sought to answer these concerns by asserting free
choice in adopting monasticism, while framing this decision in terms of
accepted typologies of personal vocation.
Chapter  2 explores the extensive set of monastic entrance and initia-
tion protocols, from the interview at the gate to hazing, oaths, property
renunciation, and ritual investiture. Monastic sources note the difficulty
in assessing the character of individual entrants, a problem that Augustine
explicitly linked to theory of mind. While hagiographical accounts suggest
that charismatic leaders such as Pachomius “knew the hearts” of prospec-
tive disciples, the demanding entrance procedures functioned as an insti-
tutionalized strategy to test their commitment and capacity for obedience.
Conferral of the monastic habit usually marked the postulant’s full accep-
tance into the community and carried the full weight of new behavioral –
and cognitive – expectations.
Part Two examines the cognitive disciplines by which disciples acquired
and maintained a distinctively monastic theory of mind. The introduction
to this section outlines the “folk-model” of mind in cenobitic monasticism,

(Hirschkind 2006) on Islam in contemporary Cairo, which consider the role of emotion and cogni-
tion in self-formation from the perspective of critical theory.
18 Introduction
especially as related to the practice of revealing and evaluating thoughts,
and defines its three primary “cognitive disciplines,” namely Scriptural
practice (Chapter 3), the fear of God (Chapter 4), and prayer (Chapter 5),
which are intended to improve the monk through purifying and perfecting
the mental processes elaborated in the folk-model.
Chapter 3 explores the different methods employed by new monks to
internalize Scripture, through both individual study and regular group
catechesis, which I relate to the first stages of Greco-Roman instruction
in literacy. Through a focused audition of monastic instructions, disciples
learned basic interpretive schemas for monastic life. They also incorporated
key bodily-affective states, including joy and grief, by actively listening to a
very distinctive style of speech that I call the “rhetoric of ekpathy.” Monks
were encouraged to inscribe the Bible “on the heart,” through writing, reci-
tation, attentive listening, and meditation. By doing so, they incorporated
scriptural verses into their own cognitive stream, using them to interact
with others, struggle against demons, communicate with God through
prayer, and more generally regulate their mental and emotional lives.
Chapter 4 is the first extended study of the “fear of God,” a central
monastic practice of imagining, especially through visualization and audi-
tion, the shame and guilt felt by sinners before the divine tribunal. This
fear was not an involuntary experience of the awful divine majesty, such
as Otto’s famous mysterium tremendum, but a “technology of the imagi-
nation” to be deployed strategically in situations of temptation. Through
constant meditation on the last judgement, as well as undergoing related
forms of discipline, such as public shaming and corporal punishment,
monks acquired the “fear of God” as an enduring disposition, to be drawn
upon especially in moments of cognitive distress. In particular, tempting
thoughts and affective urges could be tempered through harnessing the
fear of God by active imagination of post-mortem condemnation.
In Chapter  5, I  explore the third major cognitive discipline, prayer,
broadly understood as communication with God. The different forms of
prayer correspond to the stages of disciples’ progress, from the initial focus
on obeying the commandments and confronting evil thoughts, to more
advanced forms of spiritual perception. I analyze a number of brief “case-
studies” of monks at various points in their development, including: con-
descension, in which neophytes lacking basic knowledge of God are
allowed to break some rules lest they abandon the profession; the struggle
with the temptation of porneia, especially through prayer which overlaps
substantially with meditation upon scripture and the fear of God; and the
 Introduction 19
cultivation of a distinctive practice of prayer based on thankful contem-
plation of God’s cosmic majesty and the divine court. Finally, I link the
frequent meditation on these images, especially during prayer vigils, to the
importance and frequency of revelations in Pachomian monasticism.
In Part Three, I examine a distinctive component of the care of souls
in cenobitic monasticism: collective rituals, which were also intended to
shape the minds and emotions of the disciples who participated in them.
The introduction to this section outlines the responsibilities of monastic
leaders for their entire flock, especially as related to the annual meetings,
drawing on the substantial evidence from the Pachomian Koinonia and
White Monastery federation. Pastoral responsibilities for the entire com-
munity are fulfilled through the direction of two key rituals at the annual
meetings:  the joyful commemoration of the community’s founder, who
served as the obedient disciples’ mediator before God, in a ritual inaugu-
rated by Theodore (Chapter 6); and the rites of collective repentance, in
which the leader’s harsh rebuke led to collective weeping and a renewed
commitment to follow the rules, another ritual developed by Theodore,
but most fully evolved in Shenoute’s Canons (Chapter 7).
In Chapter 6, I explore the role of hagiography in the training of dis-
ciples, especially the commemoration of monastic founders. I am particu-
larly interested in how ancient sources portray the expected cognitive and
affective responses of disciples while observing the lives of other monks,
as expressed in the recurring figure of the “monastic voyeur.” Reading or
listening to the lives of saints is often described as pleasurable. In the ceno-
bitic context, this enjoyment stemmed from a carnivalesque inversion of
institutional norms: instead of being the objects of surveillance, disciples
gained a privileged view into the hidden practices and mental lives of their
leaders; in other words, an opportunity to practice the monastic theory
of mind from the perspective of the clairvoyant saint. The annual com-
memorations of deceased monastic founders were a time to rejoice over
their spiritual patronage, as revealed in their intimate prayer life with God
in life, and continued advocacy for their obedient disciples after death.
Chapter  7 considers Shenoute’s self-presentation as a reluctant leader
of the White Monastery federation, who experiences constant emotional
distress, in particular a divinely sanctioned grief, due to rebellious mem-
bers of his community. In the Canons, especially those letters and speeches
directed to the entire monastic federation, Shenoute provides a “reverse
confession,” revealing his personal turmoil and consciousness of his own
sin, as well as his ongoing communication with God through prayer and
20 Introduction
revelations. In response to various conflicts, he exhorts his disciples to
imitate his repentance, and thus bring about individual and collective
purification. Just as Shenoute has expelled sinners from the monastic body,
the disciples must banish impure thoughts – including complaints against
his leadership – from their hearts. His Canons suggest the triple correla-
tion of heart, body, and society: the individual disciple is thus a mesocosm
between the microcosm of the heart and the macrocosm of the monastic
community.
 P a rt   I

Evaluating Postulants

Introduction to Part I
Pachomius stands at a pivotal point in the history of Christian monasticism,
drawing on several centuries of earlier Christian asceticism, and providing an
influential model for the rule-based, highly organized cenobitic groups that
spread across the late Roman Mediterranean.1 While Pachomius and Antony
were not the first to struggle with demons and train disciples in the deserts of
Egypt, both formed their communities around the reign of Constantine, at the
end of the Great Persecution.2 As the fame of Egyptian monasticism increased
throughout the fourth century, these two holy men became emblematic for
two differing styles of life: anchorites, who lived alone or in small groups
under the direction of an elder, often in remote areas; and “cenobites,” who
lived in large communities with a rigid institutional structure, as expressed
in detailed rules.3 Pachomius’s federation of monasteries, the Koinonia, was
among the earliest, largest, and most famous of the cenobitic groups.4
The ancient sources imply significant continuity between the care of
souls in anchoritic and cenobitic monasticism.5 Cassian, a Latin-speaking
ascetic author who had trained in Egypt, suggested that the communal life
1
For state-of-the-art overviews of Late Antique asceticism and monasticism, see Krawiec 2008 and
Harmless 2008/Caner 2009, respectively. The early use of the term “monk” (monachos), the primary
self-reference used by the Pachomians, is analyzed in Choat 2002.
2
On the evidence for Egyptian asceticism before Antony and Pachomius, see Goehring 1992a/1999a,
18–32. As Goehring convincingly argues, Pachomius’s innovation was the use of rules and the cre-
ation of a monastic federation, the Koinonia; there is evidence for early cenobitic communities, who
later join the Koinonia, in the biographical tradition itself.
3
Modern scholars usually make a distinction between solitary anchorites and “semi-eremitic” com-
munities, consisting of several disciples trained by an elder, which is absent in the ancient sources. I
retain the term anchorite, which may refer to those living by themselves, or with several disciples.
4
The size of these communities must have varied widely, and the reliability of the surviving figures is
doubtful: HL 7:6 (3,000); 18:13 (1,400); 32:8 (1,300 at Phbow, 7,000 total); 32:9 (200 or 300 in oth-
ers). According to the Life of Shenoute, the monastic federation he directed included 2,200 monks
and 1,800 nuns.
5
I use “anchoritic,” following ancient typologies (e.g. Hier., Ep. 22:38), which distinguish between
“anchoritic” and “cenobitic” monasticism, both accepted as legitimate lifestyles, in contrast to other

21
22 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
was necessary preparation for the anchoritic one, which should only be
attempted by those suitably advanced in virtue.6 Indeed, by the fifth cen-
tury, many cenobitic monasteries had affiliated anchorites, some of whom
had likely “graduated” from the community.7 Pachomian writings offer
a different perspective on the anchoritic life:  in a passage from the bio-
graphical tradition, Pachomius suggests that habitual sinners should tame
their passions through harsh asceticism as anchorites, rather than endanger
the salvation of other monks by living in a cenobium; the surprising impli-
cation is that stricter ascetic practices may be a sign of hidden sin, rather
than advanced virtue.8 In another anecdote, Antony himself proclaims the
superiority of the cenobitic to the anchoritic life, explaining that saving
others from sin represents the highest, apostolic virtue.9
These passages emphasize the cenobitic leader’s responsibility for the
salvation of the entire flock; and that severity of ascetic renunciation was
not the clearest path towards achieving this goal. Other distinctive quali-
ties of cenobia, as described by Layton, are of importance for the care of
souls: “a hierarchically structured world,” a life marked by uniformity and
substantial face-to-face interaction with other disciples, and finally, institu-
tionalized education.10 The evidence considered in this study demonstrates
that cenobitic monasteries expanded and systematized training in the cog-
nitive disciplines of Scripture, fear of God, and prayer, which it shared with
anchoritic groups, while maintaining the role of the individual monastic
leader in instruction (Chapters 3–5). Furthermore, communal monasticism
featured highly developed initiation protocols to assess the character and
motivations of potential entrants, an important concern for the monastic
theory of mind (Chapters 1–2); and distinctive group rituals, in particular
commemoration of the founder and collective repentance, which helped to
mold disciples’ cognitive and affective capacities (Chapters 6–7).
This study draws on the extensive and diverse collection of sources
from the Pachomian Koinonia – rules, letters, speeches, and a rich bio-
graphical tradition  – as the core evidence for the care of souls in early

groups, such as urban and wandering ascetics, who are criticized. For a survey of ancient monastic
typologies, see Dietz 2010, 73–88; for their connection to the apotaktikoi of Egypt, see Goehring
1992b/1999a, 54–60.
6
For Cassian’s relative positioning of the cenobitic and anchoritic life, see most recently, Sheridan
2007, with references.
7
A Pachomian homily implies that some anchorites were affiliated with the Koinonia (Pach., Instr.
1:18 and 1:22). Similarly, the White Monastery Federation included affiliated anchorites, who were
bound by the community’s rules (Layton 2014, 59).
8
V. Pach. SBo 107.
9
V. Pach. SBo 127. Cf. Basil’s critique of anchorites in LR 7.
10
Layton 2014, 6–9, with a chart distinguishing cenobitic and semi-eremitic monasticism.
 Evaluating Postulants 23
cenobitic monasticism. I also make frequent reference to the sources for
the White Monastery federation, especially Shenoute’s Canons, which are
closely related to the Pachomian tradition, as noted by previous scholars
and further confirmed in this study.11 The influence of the Koinonia was
also felt beyond Egypt, especially in the ascetic writings of Jerome, whose
Latin translation of Pachomian Letters and Rules was frequently copied.
Cassian similarly presented his own interpretation of cenobitism to a
Western audience, appealing to his tutelage under Egyptian ascetics as the
source of his authority. While Jerome and Cassian’s writings on cenobitism
were probably not precisely followed by any ancient community, they were
nonetheless circulated widely and adapted by interested parties, forming
what Conrad Leyser has memorably called “a coenobium of letters.”12
Other sources used extensively in this study include Basil of Caesarea’s
monastic writings, especially the Long Rules and Short Rules, composed by
the bishop for his ascetic communities in Asia Minor, which later became
popular in both the East (Palestine and Syria) and the West (through
Rufinus’s Latin translation); and the Rule of the Master, from sixth-century
Italy, which offers the most comprehensive view of institutional order in
any early monastic text. In addition, I draw on numerous other sources
for cenobitic monasticism in Greek, Coptic, Latin, and Syriac, which tes-
tify to its substantial popularity and distribution across the late Roman
Mediterranean. I do not assume uniformity within this diverse corpus of
evidence, but leverage it to offer a nuanced sense of continuity and differ-
ence between regions and periods.
What follows is a brief critical survey of the sources for early Christian
cenobitism, especially those relevant for the care of souls, in roughly chro-
nological order.13 I begin with Pachomius, who was raised in a pagan fam-
ily, evidently of modest means, at the turn of the fourth century.14 While

11
Layton argues that the founder of the White Monastery federation, Pcol, was a Pachomian monk,
“because the Naples Fragment tells us that he had an insider’s knowledge of Pachomius’s monastic
rules,” as confirmed by four Pachomian Precepts identified in Shenoute’s Canons (Layton 2014, 20);
see Goehring 2008 for more on the connections between the rules.
12
Leyser 2000, 59.
13
My goal is to highlight all the major clusters of evidence for cenobitism; no full survey exists.
For a helpful overview of the spread of monasticism, especially Western, which nonetheless omits
important materials, see Dunn 2000. De Vogüé’s twelve-volume history of Latin sources for monas-
ticism (1991–2008) has no equivalent for texts in other languages. Much of the Egyptian evidence is
introduced in Harmless 2004; for a survey of modern historiography on early Egyptian cenobitism,
see Sheridan 2004. For an excellent general overview of early Christianity in Egypt, see Van der
Vliet 2013.
14
Important book-length studies of Pachomius and his Koinonia include Ladeuze 1898, Veilleux
1968, Ruppert 1971, Rousseau 1985, and Goehring 1999a. An extensive bibliography of Pachomian
24 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
nothing is said of his childhood education, if any, he was drafted into the
Roman army around 312 CE, during the civil war among the successors of
Diocletian.15 Pachomius was impressed by the kindness of the Christians
who tended to the needs of indigent recruits, and was baptized in approx-
imately 313, following his discharge. Several years later he sought out the
anchorite Palamon, who instructed him in the ascetic life for approximately
five years. Following his teacher’s death, Pachomius began to form his ini-
tial monastic community, gathering several groups of disciples, many of
whom ultimately rejected his leadership.16
By 323 CE, Pachomius had founded his first large monastery at Tabennesi,
which became significant enough to warrant a visit from Athanasius, arch-
bishop of Alexandria, in 329 CE.17 His most famous disciple, Theodore,
had arrived at Tabennesi a year earlier, attracted by Pachomius’s growing
reputation. Over the following two decades, a number of monks joined
the Koinonia, which expanded through the creation of new communi-
ties in various nomes around the Middle Nile. When he died during an
outbreak of the plague in 346 CE, Pachomius was directing eleven com-
munities, while residing at the monastery at Phbow. According to the bio-
graphical tradition, he visited them regularly, taking a personal interest in
the spiritual health of all the disciples, and communicating regularly with
their leaders, as evidenced in the surviving letters. The entire Koinonia
assembled twice per year, during the week of the Pascha and in Mesore
(late summer) for “Remission” (the settling of accounts).
Pachomius collaborated extensively with Theodore, a fellow native of
the Latopolite nome, training him in spiritual direction and prayer, and
assigning him to positions of authority within the Koinonia.18 Despite
(or because of ) his privileged relationship with the founder, Theodore
was demoted for prematurely agreeing to the elders’ request to succeed
him as leader of the community. Although Pachomius rehabilitated him,
he chose Petronius as his successor, who died after only several months,
having selected Horsiesius, another senior and well-respected monk, to

studies through approximately 2007, compiled by Armand Veilleux, is maintained online at: www
.scourmont.be/studium/pachom_bibliography.htm (last consulted 12 June 2017).
15
Following the chronology in Veilleux 1980; for a slightly earlier chronology, see, most recently, Joest
2011. Pachomius’s childhood is discussed in V. Pach. SBo 3–5/ V. Pach. G1.
16
Pachomius’s time in the army is described in V. Pach. SBo 7; his baptism, V. Pach. SBo 8; his early
career under Palamon, V. Pach. SBo 10–18; for a balanced historical synopsis of Pachomius’s early
career and foundation of the Koinonia, see Rousseau 1985, 57–76.
17
For Athanasius’s relationship with Pachomian monasticism, see Brakke 1995, 111–129.
18
For an insightful account of the politics behind the leadership roles of Theodore and Horsiesius, see
Goehring 1986b/1999a, 168–172.
 Evaluating Postulants 25
succeed him. Horsiesius led the Koinonia for several years until a revolt
led to his resignation in 350, with Theodore taking his place. As I argue in
Part Three, Theodore instituted a number of important reforms, among
them innovative rituals of collective repentance and the commemoration
of Pachomius. After Theodore’s death in 368, Horsiesius again assumed
leadership of the Koinonia, which he directed until his own death in 387.
The golden age of Pachomian literary production occurred under the
leadership of Pachomius, Theodore, and Horsiesius, who each authored
important texts.19 Pachomius’s Letters, for all their obscurity, are the earli-
est surviving literary compositions in Coptic. Theodore spurred the con-
solidation of biographic traditions related to Pachomius, and developed a
particular form of impassioned monastic oratory that was later perfected
in Shenoute’s Canons, as I argue in Chapter 3 and the Introduction to Part
Three. And Horsiesius’s writings, including multiple Coptic Instructions
and a collection of Regulations, are notable for the unparalleled thickness
of scriptural allusion; his Testament, preserved only in Latin translation, is
a lengthy exhortation covering multiple aspects of the care of souls, from
biblical and monastic commandments to Scripture, the fear of God, and
prayer. Given the importance of the Pachomian literature for this study,
I will outline it in some detail below.
The rules of Pachomius were assembled in various collections already in
Late Antiquity, no doubt based on the particular needs of the communities
that used them. Jerome translated four groups, the Precepts, Precepts and
Institutes, Precepts and Judgements, and the Precepts and Laws.20 Pachomius
(and his successors) probably delivered the individual rules as responses to
particular situations, or sometimes included them in formal instruction;
they were later assembled into collections, for example when a new mon-
astery joined the Koinonia.21 The rules are key sources for the institutional
structure of the monastery, and seem to have been a means of acquiring
prestige, perhaps because they were understood as a kind of new Mosaic
Law.22 For the purposes of this study, they offer crucial evidence regarding

19
See the helpful chart of Pachomian literary chronology in Goehring 1986b/1999a, 164.
20
Praecepta, Praecepta atque Instituta, Praecepta atque Iudicia, and the Praecepta ac Leges. The Latin text
is edited in Boon 1932, 13–74; Coptic and Greek texts, which correspond more or less to Jerome’s
translation, are found in Lefort 1956, 26–36, and Boon 1932, 169–182.
21
Pachomius himself is said to assemble his rules in V. Pach. SBo 23 and V. Pach. SBo 27. For a
discussion of their chronological development, see Rousseau 1985, 48–53, with bibliography. The
Pachomian Regulations, attributed to Horsiesius by their editor (Lefort 1956, 82–99), include a
mixture of rules and paraenesis typical of the Canons of Shenoute.
22
Theodore suggests that new disciples were recruited based on an appeal to sharing “the holy com-
mandments that God gave Apa” (Theo., Instr. 3:20, CSCO 159: 49); see Chapter 1.
26 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
entrance procedures, basic instruction in reading and writing, and various
punishments that encourage the fear of God.
Other than the Rules, the only independently transmitted works ascribed
to Pachomius are his Letters, which were almost certainly written by him.23
While these frequently concern the care of souls, they contain many refer-
ences to an obscure cryptographic code identified as angelic speech, and I
have made little recourse to them in this study.24 In contrast, there is much
of relevance for cognition and discipline in the two Instructions attrib-
uted to Pachomius.25 Indeed, the various homiletic and instructional texts
attributed to him, as well as to Theodore and Horsiesius, constitute an
important, largely overlooked source for Pachomian monasticism.26 Some
were delivered at the weekly catechetical sessions, while others are longer
treatises circulated among the monasteries in advance of the joint meet-
ings for Easter and the festival of remission at the end of the Egyptian
year (20 Mesore, approximately August).27 Perhaps the most influential
Pachomian work for Western monasticism is the Testament of Horsiesius,
with its practical summary of Pachomian spiritual direction couched in
heavily biblical language.28

23
Choat rightly emphasizes that Pachomius’s Letters, as we have them through Jerome’s translations
and early Greek and Coptic manuscripts, were collected for different purposes, and include content
related to rules and homilies, suggesting that “genre boundaries are blurred and porous” (Choat
2015, 88).
24
Like the rest of the sources for the Koinonia, these survive in a complex mixture of Coptic, Greek,
and Latin versions, on which see Quecke 1975a, 41–72. Christoph Joest has proposed an intriguing
solution to the obscure cryptography in the Pachomian letters: see, e.g., Joest 1999, 2005, 2008,
and 2014, a German translation of the corpus. The resulting decoded text contains standard advice
regarding the care of souls. For a recent, skeptical evaluation of Joest’s suggested readings, see
Kalvesmaki 2013.
25
The instruction includes some Athanasian material, and appears to have a complex redactional his-
tory. For a cogent argument in favor of its Pachomian context, see Choat 2010; cf. Joest 2007, who
proposes that it was composed by Pachomius and later edited by Horsiesius. In this study, I refer
to this text as the First Instruction, rather than its longer manuscript title (abridged in Veilleux 1982
as “Instruction Concerning a Spiteful Monk”). In addition, a number of instructional material
attributed to Pachomius (as well as Theodore and Horsiesius) has been preserved in the biographical
tradition; this will be considered with the independently transmitted texts in Chapter 3.
26
For the Instructions of Pachomius, see Lefort 1956, 1–26; of Theodore, see Lefort 1956, 37–60; of
Horsiesius, Lefort 1956, 66–79. There are also acephalous Fragments of homiletic material attributed
to all three leaders in Lefort 1956, 26–30, 60–62, and 81–82. Horsiesius’s Testament is edited in Boon
1932, 109–147.
27
A small number of surviving Letters by Theodore and Horsiesius were also circulated among the com-
munities of the Koinonia in advance of the two yearly meetings, as discussed in the Introduction to
Part Three. For Theodore, see Boon 1932, 105–106 (Ep. 1, Latin), and Quecke 1975b (Ep. 2, Coptic);
for Horsiesius, see Lefort 1956, 63–65 (Ep. 1–2, Coptic), and Veilleux 1982, 157–168 (Ep. 3–4), an
English translation of the still unedited Coptic text in Chester Beatty Library Ac 1494.
28
Latin text in Boon 1932, 109–147. See also the revised text, German translation, and commentary in
Bacht 1972.
 Evaluating Postulants 27
A variety of literature beyond the Bible and monastic writings was avail-
able to monks, despite efforts to control what was read, as evidenced espe-
cially by Theodore’s discussion, translation, and display of Athanasius’s
Festal Letter 39 in 367, forbidding the use of apocryphal literature.29 While
the works of Athanasius and other Alexandrian theologians, including
Origen, were certainly studied, “heretical” texts such as the Nag Hammadi
Library would also have been of interest to monks, who may have even
copied them.30 Indeed, many of the Nag Hammadi writings share an inter-
est in visionary ascent through prayer found in Pachomian writings and
the works of Shenoute, as discussed in Chapters  5 and 7; others, such
as the Exegesis on the Soul, emphasize the central monastic practice of
repentance.31
The most extensive evidence for the Pachomian care of souls is the large
and diverse biographical tradition.32 The transmission history is quite com-
plex, with large collections in Greek, Bohairic and Sahidic Coptic, and
Arabic.33 One early recension, the Great Coptic Life, was written originally
in Sahidic, but is now extant in lengthy Bohairic and Arabic versions that
share substantial material; some of the many fragmentary Sahidic Lives also
appear to be related to the Great Coptic Life.34 Another important early
recension is the First Greek Life, the authors of which were familiar with
the Life of Antony.35 While there is an ongoing debate about which versions
are the earliest, in my view it is impossible to obtain a secure chronology.
My goal here is not to study the historical Pachomius, nor the develop-
ment of the Koinonia; thus I  do not attempt to identify chronological

29
Described in V. Pach. SBo 189; on Festal Letter 39, see most recently Brakke 2010.
30
See the series of arguments for a Pachomian milieu presented in Lundhaug and Jennot 2016.
31
Ibid., 257–258, and Lundhaug, forthcoming.
32
For treatments of the complex multilingual biography, see Veilleux 1968, 11–107, and the English
summary in Veilleux 1980, 1–21; Rousseau 1985, 38–48; Goehring 1986a, 3–23. There is also evidence
for an encomium of Pachomius by (Ps.-)Athanasius: see Van der Vliet 1992.
33
The Bohairic text is edited in Lefort 1925; the fragmentary Sahidic versions are in Lefort 1933–1934.
The Arabic text, based on a single Vatican manuscript, is found in Amélineau 1889, with French
translation; while closely related to the Coptic versions, it contains important unique passages.
Jerome did not translate the Life – whether because he was unaware of it, or perhaps because of its
length – though a Latin version was produced by Dionysius Exiguus in the sixth century, edited by
Van Cranenburgh in 1969.
34
I follow Veilleux’s reconstruction of the Great Coptic Life, based on the Bohairic version, but with
some additions and modifications based on the fragmentary Sahidic Lives (denoted V. Pach. SBo).
However, I offer my own translation for all quoted passages, which does not follow the occasional
modifications to the Bohairic text made in Veilleux’s English translation. I also make frequent refer-
ence to Sahidic fragments that Veilleux did not incorporate into V. Pach. SBo, in which case I use
Lefort’s division of the various fragmentary lives (V. Pach. S1, V. Pach. S2, etc.).
35
The critical edition of the First Greek Life, and a number of other abridged versions, is in
Halkin 1932.
28 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
development in Pachomius’s care of souls, for example by trying to identify
“early” and “late” strata of the biographical tradition. As with other monas-
tic hagiography, these sources are primarily of value for understanding the
assumptions of the monks who composed, read, and listened to them.36
However, several references in the writings of the White Monastery
have been ignored in previous treatments of the Pachomian Lives; these
suggest that an early Coptic version existed, and was influential in the
development of Egyptian cenobitism.37 In my view, Shenoute alludes to
the Pachomian biographical tradition in Canons 1, which would be the
earliest testimony for it, and suggests that a Coptic version was in circula-
tion sometime before 385 CE, while Horsiesius was still alive and lead-
ing the Koinonia: “You read the life of some others who resemble you in
their garb (schēma) and you find that God taught them with signs and
wonders.”38 The “signs and wonders” likely refer to the many visions given
to Pachomius and Theodore in the Life, as Shenoute then explains that the
monks of the White Monastery are sinners and should not expect similar
miracles, because they cannot distinguish between demonic and angelic
revelations. The Pachomian Lives are also mentioned in the undated Naples
Fragment: “Read in their biography (bios) and you will learn about their
strength, how they are at the maximum of virtue, and there is no limit to
their labours.”39
Indeed, the Pachomian context appears crucial to the formation of the
White Monastery federation during the middle of the fourth century, at
the northern edge of the Koinonia, in the village of Atripe near Panopolis.40
In about 360 (around the time of Theodore’s death), the shadowy figure
Pcol founded a sizable men’s community, establishing a set of rules to gov-
ern it in the tradition of Pachomius, but with greater ascetic rigor.41 He
later formed a federation with two other communities: a smaller men’s
36
As David Brakke observes in his study of early monastic narratives, “literary works about early
monasticism are primarily sources for the circumstances and goals of their authors. . . Only second-
arily, if at all, do they provide evidence for the earlier events that they narrate” (Brakke 2013, 250).
37
There has been a long, ongoing debate over the priority of the Greek or Coptic versions, and their
relationship to one another, though it appears that neither V. Pach. SBo or V. Pach G1 depends on
the other. Previously, the earliest external reference to the Lives was thought to be Evagrius Ponticus,
De oratione 108, composed sometime in the 390s, which presumably alludes to a Greek version.
38
Canons 1, unedited: YG 219, FR-BN 130s f. 37r; see the text in Emmel 2004b, 155–156, including
chronological discussion.
39
Layton 2014, 18.
40
The early history of the community is recounted in the “Naples Fragment,” translated into English
for the first time on the basis of a new collation in Layton 2014, 14–19, followed by a historical
reconstruction and further analysis in 19–34.
41
For a study of the White Monastery federation’s rules, see Layton 2014, 35–49, arguing that some
were established by Pcol, who was familiar with the Pachomian corpus, and others by Shenoute.
 Evaluating Postulants 29
monastery organized by Pshoi, and an affiliated women’s monastery. The
federation’s third leader, Pcol’s nephew Shenoute, came to power around
385 (just before Horsiesius’s death) following an internal struggle, and
appears to have governed for the extraordinary period of 80 years, until
his death in 465 CE.42 He was a dominant personality with significant
influence locally, both within his monastic community and in the area
surrounding nearby Panopolis;43 as well as in the broader arena of Roman
ecclesiastical politics, cultivating a relationship with powerful Alexandrian
patriarchs such as Cyril and Dioscorus.44
Shenoute’s literary oeuvre, while fragmentary, is unparalleled in Coptic
literature for its scope and complexity.45 It includes three primary com-
ponents:  nine volumes of Canons, a collection of letters and speeches
addressed to individual monks, or more frequently the congregation as
a whole; eight volumes of Discourses, which include homilies given to a
mixed audience of monks and lay people at the monastic church; and his
Letters, many addressed to high-profile recipients such as the archbishop
of Alexandria and the comes of the Thebaid.46 While I  frequently draw
on Shenoute’s writings, which have numerous close affinities with the
Pachomian material, my use of this evidence is necessarily selective, given
the ongoing publication of his extensive literary corpus.
After the death of Shenoute in ca. 465 CE, the “golden age” of Egyptian
cenobitism that began with Pachomius comes to an end. Indeed, there
is relatively little extant written evidence from the Pachomian Koinonia
dated after the Testament of Horsiesius. Several fragmentary panegyrics of
later archimandrites survive, including for Abraham, who resigned from
his position of leadership after the emperor Justinian in Constantinople
demanded that he accept the Chalcedonian definition.47 Meanwhile,

42
I use the detailed chronology elaborated in Emmel 2004, 7–13, despite the implication that
Shenoute reached an extreme old age, rather than the suggestion that his activities as abbot should
be dated to ca. 420–460 in López 2013, 131–133, which is critiqued in Dijkstra 2015.
43
López 2013.
44
For a list of Shenoute’s Letters, including correspondence with patriarchs, see López 2013, 140–141;
for a letter of the patriarch Dioscorus to Shenoute against certain “Origenists,” see Lundhaug 2013.
45
For the reconstruction of Shenoute’s literary corpus see Emmel 2004a. Stephen Emmel is execu-
tive editor of the international editorial team charged with publishing Shenoute’s collected works.
Because this project is ongoing, I have often consulted earlier editions for the text of Shenoute’s
works, except in the case of the landmark editions of Behlmer 1996 and Boud’hors 2013. In the few
instances where I refer to an unpublished passage, I cite the manuscript and page number, and,
when applicable, other publications in which it has appeared.
46
Pioneering monographs on Shenoute’s writings include Krawiec 2002 and Schroeder 2007, primar-
ily drawing on the Canons; and López 2013, primarily drawing on the Discourses.
47
The Koinonia presumably disbanded soon after that: for a history of later Pachomian monasticism,
including the literary evidence, see Goehring 2006.
30 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
Shenoute’s successor Besa produced a number of letters and discourses in
a style similar to that of the Canons.48 Some of the work of his younger
contemporary Moses of Abydos, who presided over a monastic federation
near Panopolis, survives in the form of brief sections of a Canon and four
letters to the affiliated women’s community, in which Shenoute is quoted
with authority.49
Monasticism to the south of the Pachomian federation is best repre-
sented in the region of the Thebaid, where ascetics settled in and around
the Middle Kingdom tombs. Numerous monastic sites have been exca-
vated over the last century – often cleared for pharaonic remains – yielding
a rich variety of material and textual evidence.50 Among the most impor-
tant communities was the Monastery of Phoibammon atop the ruined
Temple of Hatshepsout (Deir al-Bahri) on the left bank of the Nile;51 and
the nearby Monastery of Epiphanius at Thebes, founded in the early sixth-
century by an anchorite who bears the same name.52 Their organization
appears to have been semi-eremitic, but there seem to have been structured
community activities, possibly including instruction in writing, as in the
Pachomian monasteries.53 Both sites have yielded a wealth of written mate-
rials, in the form of ostraca (potsherds), papyri, and inscriptions, which
offer valuable evidence for monastic literary culture.
Another important Late Antique monastic community was located to
the north in Upper Egypt, at Bawit, near Hermopolis. Like Pachomius,
its founder Apollo lived first as an anchorite, attracting followers as his
reputation grew, and then eventually established a cenobium. According to
the author of the Historia Monachorum, the founding disciples numbered
500, all of whom shared a common table, although some of them lived as
anchorites in the surrounding area.54 The ongoing excavations at the mon-
astery of Bawit, begun over a century ago, provide unique evidence for the
large size of some Egyptian cenobia; this monastery was distributed over

48
Besa’s surviving writings are edited in Kuhn 1956; an important recent study is Behlmer 2009, who
is preparing a monograph on his rhetorical use of Scripture.
49
For an overview of Moses’s writings, and his later Life, see Moussa 2003.
50
On Late Antique monasticism near the Thebaid, see now Wipszycka 2015. The fourth-century fig-
ure Stephen of Thebes may be the earliest known ascetic author from this region, but the evidence
for this does not go beyond his toponym: see Suciu 2015.
51
Godlewski 1986.
52
This monastery is richly documented in Winlock, Crum, and Evelyn-White 1927.
53
In the Upper Egyptian Life of Pisentius, the first four leaders of the Koinonia (Pachomius, Petronius,
Horsiesius, and Theodore) are described as “holy anchorites” (Budge 1913, 105). Crum suggested
that the monasteries in the area followed the Pachomian Rule (Crum 1902, xviii), though he does
not offer evidence for this, and I am not aware of any.
54
HM 8.
 Evaluating Postulants 31
approximately forty hectares of land near the desert, with over one hun-
dred buildings, many richly painted, including several churches. Apollo is
said to have delivered “instructions and commandments,” probably like
Shenoute’s Canons. He and his companion Phib were venerated by other
communities to the north, most notably the monastery of Apa Jeremias
at Saqqara, which participated in an annual ritual of collective repentance
similar to those at the Koinonia and White Monastery.55
Monasticism in the Latin West drew heavily on Egyptian traditions,
which were adapted to various contexts.56 The biblical translator and
polemicist Jerome was an avid promoter of the ascetic lifestyle who gained
fame as an advisor to rich female renunciants in Rome. In his Letter 22
in praise of virginity, which is addressed to Eustochium, the daughter of
his patron Paula, he presents an influential typology of semi-eremitic and
cenobitic monasticism in Egypt. Later, while he and Paula directed a dou-
ble community of male and female monks at Bethlehem, he translated a
number of Pachomian texts into Latin at the request of Greek-speaking
monks from the community at Canopus near Alexandria.57 His translation
of the Rules of Pachomius and the Testament of Horsiesius, completed in
404 CE, circulated widely in the West, exerting significant influence on
the later tradition of monastic rules.
The most influential ascetic theorist writing in Latin, John Cassian,
spent some years in the semi-eremitic communities of northern Egypt.
His two ascetic works, the Institutes and Conferences, claim to be based on
these experiences, and include interesting reflections on cenobitic monks.58
They are instructions for novice and advanced monks, respectively, and
were intended for the several monastic communities forming in southern
Gaul during the early fifth century, including the famous cenobium of
Lérins, founded by Honoratus, which produced a number of important
ascetic authors and church leaders during the fifth and sixth centuries.59

55
Attested in the Life of Apollo and Phib; see Vivian 1999, and the discussion in Chapter 7.
56
De Vogüé identified four traditions of monastic rules in the West, based respectively on the various
Regulae of Lérins, Jerome’s translations of Pachomian rules, Cassian, and Augustine. Rufinus’s trans-
lation of Basil’s rule is detectable in all of these, which are discussed below (De Vogüé 1977, 176).
57
Jerome’s Homilies on the Psalms were delivered to the Bethlehem community, the organization of
which is uncertain, but was conceivably influenced by the Pachomian translations. For a discussion
of Jerome’s asceticism as reflected in his Letters, see Cain 1999; on the organization of the Bethlehem
monasteries, see the Epitaphium Sanctae Paulae 20, with the extensive commentary in Cain 2013,
359–386.
58
Excellent studies of Cassian and his writings are found in Stewart 1998 and Casiday 2007. For
Cassian’s presentation of Egyptian monasticism to a Latin audience, see Driver 2013.
59
Monasticism in Gaul is surveyed in Prinz 1988. For an overview of the monastery of Lérins in Late
Antiquity, see, e.g., Nouailhat 1988 and Leyser 1999.
32 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
The writings of the abbots Hilary (later bishop of Arles) and especially
Faustus (later bishop of Riez) provide evidence for the inner workings of
the monastery at Lérins, including various homilies delivered to the com-
munity, much like Shenoute’s Canons.60
Augustine, Jerome’s younger contemporary who famously wrote of his
passion for the Life of Antony, had no direct knowledge of Egyptian ceno-
bites.61 Yet he was an enthusiastic supporter of monasticism, gathering a
community of ascetics around him in Thagaste before he was ordained as
priest. After Augustine had become bishop of Hippo, he presided over a
community of ascetic clerics in the episcopal residence; this was likely the
group for which he composed an idiosyncratic but popular Rule which
enjoyed lasting popularity in the West.62 He addresses several of his let-
ters to monastic communities (including one directed by his sister), and
also makes a number of interesting observations about ascetic leadership,
including the care of souls, in his Homilies.63
Monasticism in Gaza, which was found along well-traveled roads
between Alexandria and the Holy Land, was influenced by both Egyptian
and Basilian monasticism, and in particular the semi-eremitic movement
as represented in the Apophthegmata Patrum and writings of Evagrius. In
fact, the two most prominent teachers of this region, Isaiah of Scetis and
Barsanuphius, settled there after traveling from Egypt; the latter’s native
language was Coptic.64 Barsanuphius and John were the spiritual directors
of the cenobitic monastery of Tawatha near Gaza, while its abbot Seridos
handled the day-to-day administrative affairs. The Epistles of Barsanuphius
and John are one of the most important sources for the early monastic care
of souls; in fact, they are the only ancient evidence for sustained counsel-
ing between directors and disciples. In some cases, the texts relate extensive
exchanges with certain individuals, including Dorotheus, a highly edu-
cated young man who assumed a position of leadership soon after joining
the monastery, and may have been responsible for editing the Epistles.65

60
The monastic writings of Faustus are discussed in Kasper 1991.
61
Aug., Conf. 8:6.
62
The Latin text and translation of the Rule, as well as an extensive analysis of its place in Augustine’s
life and writings, is found in Lawless 2000. For concepts of authority in Late Antique Western
asceticism more generally, see Leyser 2000.
63
Augustine’s discussions of monasticism are collected in Zumkeller 1986; for monasticism in Late
Antique North Africa, the neo-latin monograph of Gavigan 1962 remains unsurpassed.
64
For a survey of monasticism in Gaza, see Hevelone-Harper 2005, 10–60; see also the studies in
Bitton-Ashkelony and Kofsky 2006, particularly Perrone 2006 on spiritual direction.
65
As suggested in Hevelone-Harper 2005, 76–77. The correspondence with the sick disciple Andrew
(Epistles 72–123) is analyzed in Crislip 2013, 138–166.
 Evaluating Postulants 33
Dorotheus went on to write popular Discourses on monastic life, and was
also featured in the Life of Dositheus. These varied sources present a rare
opportunity to follow the personal development of an individual monk in
some detail.66
Monasticism in the Holy Land, described most famously in Cyril of
Scythopolis’ History of the Monks of Palestine, was highly international,
driven by the numerous pilgrims who decided to settle in Jerusalem and
the surrounding regions in order to practice asceticism.67 Since many
of these monks were from Asia Minor, Basil’s rule became particularly
influential in Palestine. Cenobitic monasticism was therefore wide-
spread, and often represented a starting point for disciples, who later
transitioned to a semi-eremitic lifestyle, as practiced in the community
of Sabas. A number of biographies of monastic founders were produced
in the sixth century, including one on Chariton, considered by tradi-
tion the first monk in the region, written by an anonymous member of
his Old Laura.68 These offer valuable information about commemorative
practices, especially in the case of orations performed before the com-
munity, such as the Life of Theognius, which Paul of Elusa delivered at the
monastery he founded.69
The most influential early tradition of communal monasticism in the
Greek East is associated with Basil of Caesarea, a member of a promi-
nent Cappadocian family of Christians. His sister Macrina practiced a
kind of domestic asceticism at the family estate at Annesi, and Basil lived
in renunciation on an estate nearby with his friend Gregory Nazianzen;70
although mentioned by Eustathius, bishop of Sebaste (like Annesi, close to
Neocaesarea), Basil traveled through the eastern provinces, including Syria
and Egypt, where he surely encountered ascetics.71 After losing a contro-
versial episcopal election in Caesarea, despite the support of local ascetics,
Basil settled in Pontus in the early 360s, where he took charge of several
monasteries, and founded an additional one.72 Basil became bishop of

66
A chapter is devoted to Dorotheus in Hevelone-Harper 2005, 61–78.
67
The lifestyle of monasticism in the Holy Land is surveyed in Patrich 1995. See also the historical
studies in Binns 1994 and Horn 2006; and Hirschfeld 1992 for a discussion of the archaeological
evidence.
68
The Life of Chariton, ed. Garitte 1941; Theodore, Life of Theodosius, ed. Usener 1890; Life of Gerasima,
ed. Koikylides 1902; Antony of Choziba, Life of George of Choziba, ed. House 1888.
69
Paul of Elusa, Life of Theognius, ed. van den Gheyn 1891.
70
See the now classic account in Elm 1994, 78–105.
71
Described in Ep. 223.
72
According to the Church Histories of Socrates, Sozomen, and Rufinus, Basil and Gregory founded
monasteries throughout Asia Minor (Soz., H.E. 4:17; cf. Socr., H.E. 4:20) in the cities of Pontus;
Rufinus adds the rural districts (H.E. 2:9).
34 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
Caesarea in 370, and he established another monastery there by 372, which
was probably connected to the hospital known as the Basiliad.73
The Basilian monasteries were smaller than the communities of the
Koinonia, with an average of 30–40 disciples; the leadership structure of
a director and second in command resembles the order of a Pachomian
house.74 While there was no archimandrite (this role was filled by Basil
as bishop), nor annual meetings of all the monasteries, a council of local
elected new leaders heard appeals in disputes.75 Basil’s most important
monastic writings consist of two sets of instructions, addressed to the
communities he founded:  the Long Rules (in 55 extensive sections), and
the Short Rules (in 313 short sections).76 They are heavily edited versions
of Basil’s responses to questions posed by disciples in his communities,
and are based on sessions recorded by a tachygrapher.77 The Rules some-
times deal with matters of institutional policy, but their primary concern
is spiritual development, and they have substantial overlap in content with
Pachomian homiletic materials.
Basil’s monastic foundations in Asia Minor survived for at least a few
generations after his death, and they continued to copy his works as well as
produce new ones.78 His writings also influenced the burgeoning monas-
tic movement in the new imperial capitol of Constantinople.79 But other
ascetic trends are also evident in Late Antique Asia Minor: most notably,
a set of treatises and letters associated with Nilus of Ancyra, which dis-
cuss how to regulate the use of property for both “freelance” ascetics and
larger communities.80 Although Nilus’s work does not relate specifically

73
Basil, Ep. 94.
74
For Basilian asceticism, see Fedgwick 1978 and Silvas 2005, 51–101. The only monograph exclusively
devoted to Basil’s monasticism notes in passing its similarities to the Pachomian system, even argu-
ing that Basil must have visited Tabennesi during his trip to Alexandria and the “rest of Egypt”
(Clarke 1913, 34). While few examples are given, this study confirms a number of overlapping con-
cepts and organizational strategies between the two traditions, but these need not be explained by
direct influence.
75
Basil, LR 43, 54; SR 119. For the importance of settling disputes in collective rituals of repentance,
see the Introduction to Part Three.
76
Also known by their Latin titles, Regulae Fusius Tractatae and Regulae Brevius Tractatae. For a new
introduction and translation, see Silvas 2005, with a discussion of the complicated history of the text
and its versions. For the first critical edition and translation of the Syriac version, see Silvas 2014.
77
They correspond quite closely to the sorts of questions from disciples in the correspondence of
Barsanuphius and John, which have also been edited, possibly by Dorotheus (who brought with
him a copy of Basil’s Ascetica).
78
This community presumably composed the sizable corpus of ascetic texts attributed to Basil, such
as the Epitimia (PG 31: 1305–1314), a list of punishments for infractions.
79
Basil’s model of urban asceticism, practiced at Caesarea, was particularly influential: see Hatlie 2011,
34, and 63–65.
80
For a broad portrait of ascetic life in Ancyra, see Pall., HL 66.
 Evaluating Postulants 35
to cenobitic communities, his extensive surviving corpus offers a number
of thought-provoking reflections on the care of souls relevant to cenobitic
monasticism.81
Rufinus translated a version of Basil’s Rule into Latin, presumably
for use at Melania’s community on the Mount of Olives.82 This version
appears to have circulated widely throughout Italy, where it greatly influ-
enced the sixth-century Rule of the Master, the first extensive source for
Italian monasticism and a likely inspiration for Benedict’s Rule, although
the circumstances behind its composition and early use remain obscure.83
The Rule of the Master is delivered in the voice of an anonymous abbot
who boldly assumes divine authority as he legislates, interspersing regula-
tions with homiletic commentary. It offers a richly textured description of
monastic life, and as such is an invaluable source for cenobitic monasti-
cism, especially in areas such as admissions procedures, literary instruc-
tion, and discipline.
The origins of communal asceticism in the Syriac-speaking world can
be traced to two fourth-century Syrian ascetics, Jacob of Nisibis and
Julian Saba, whose followers later wrote hymns in their honor but little
is known about their organization or practices.84 More detailed evidence
is found in Rabbula’s Admonitions for monks, which he composed some-
time after becoming bishop of Edessa in 412 CE.85 In a later legend, Mar
Awgin (Eugenius) is said to have left the monastery of Pachomius for
Mount Izla in Tur ‘Abdin near Nisibis, where he befriended Jacob, and
founded the first Syrian communal monastery.86 But this account was
fabricated in the sixth-century, around the time that Abraham of Kashkar
founded the Great Monastery, a cenobium, on Mount Izla. The history of
81
Communal monasticism in the area seems to have been represented by the monastery of Leontius,
on a mountain beside the city (compare Antioch and Mount Silpius), and a Basilian foundation run
by Prapidius: Soz., H.E. 6:34.
82
For a new translation and introduction, see Silvas 2013.
83
The authoritative discussion of the background of the Rule of the Master remains the introduction
to de Vogüé 1964, although his assertion that the author was Benedict himself – who later abridged
it – remains controversial. On the early development of monasticism in Italy, see Jenal 1995.
84
On the hymns composed in honor of Saba by his community, see Griffith 1994, and the discussion
in Chapter 6.
85
Aptly described by Columba Stewart as “a communal form of monasticism lived in seclusion, with
regular but carefully managed contact with the rest of society” in his typology of ascetics living in
and around Antioch and Edessa (Stewart 2013, 220). For a historical overview of Syriac monasticism
in Late Antiquity, see Escolan 1999.
86
For the development of the legend, see Jullien 2008a. It is possible that the Syriac translation of
the Pachomian Paralipomena – actually, as shown in Kessel 2013, the entirety of V. Pach. G6 – was
translated at this time of increased interest in Egyptian cenobism. The Life of Eupraxia, which I am
currently editing, may have been composed in a Pachomian milieu, and was also eventually trans-
lated into Syriac: see BL Add. MS 14,651, Fol. 49a-70a; cf. BL Add. MS 14,649, Fol. 148a-161b.
36 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
this community is described in Thomas of Marga’s Book of Governors, and
there are several surviving rules from its first leaders: Abraham, his suc-
cessor Dadīšō’, and his successor Babai.87 Finally, the monasteries in the
region of the city Amida in northern Mesopotamia are vividly described
in John of Ephesus’s Lives of the Eastern Saints, a series of hagiographic
vignettes with substantial information about the communities’ institu-
tional structure.88
Another important source for sixth-century monasticism is the legis-
lation of Justinian, who devoted several lengthy novellas to empire-wide
regulations.89 While early imperial laws concerned limited aspects of
monastic life, such as eligibility for entry, Justinian sought to control the
internal functioning of communities. The earliest comprehensive legisla-
tion was Novel 5 (issued in 535), which went so far as to declare a three-year
novitiate for all postulants.90 Perhaps influenced by Basil, Justinian also
favored cenobitic groups over anchorites, who had to be affiliated with
a community. Despite his zeal for regulating monastic life, the emperor
also praised it:91 “Monastic life is so honourable and can render the person
embracing it so acceptable to God, that it removes from him every human
blemish, declares him to be pure and conformed to natural reason, greatly
enriched in understanding, and superior to human beings by virtue of his
thoughts.”
Justinian’s legislation, issued approximately two centuries after Pachomius
founded his first community at Tabennesi, is a convenient endpoint for
this study, given his regulation of the cenobitic lifestyle, which he pro-
moted as the paradigmatic form of monasticism across the Mediterranean
world. We have sketched out the development of communal monasticism
across two centuries and multiple regions, yet the reasons for its growth
remain elusive. Perhaps the simplest explanation is social networks: people
join because they already have connections within the community, includ-
ing relatives: Pachomius’s brother John and sister Mary eventually joined
him, as did Theodore’s brother Paphnouti.92 Others were pious Christians

87
On Abraham and the Great Monastery, see Chialà 2005 and Jullien 2008b.
88
John’s views of asceticism and monasticism are discussed in Harvey 1990, 43–56.
89
The most comprehensive overview of Justinian’s monastic legislation remains Granić 1929. For a
recent analysis of the laws in their late Roman context, see Hillner 2007.
90
Key legislation includes Nov. 5 (Schöll: 28–35); Nov. 65 (Schöll: 344–347); Nov. 79 (Schöll: 388–400).
91
Justn., Nov. 5 (Schöll: 28–31).
92
For Pachomius’ sister, see V. Pach. SBo 27 (CSCO 89: 26–28); for Theodore’s brother, see V. Pach.
SBo 38 (CSCO 89: 40–41). The extensive regulations regarding biological kin in the Canons suggest
that families were distributed across all monastic ranks.
 Evaluating Postulants 37
already attending mass at the monastic church.93 For those with no
such connections, reference letters could build trust:  Pachomius, for
example, accepted Theodore of Alexandria, the initial housemaster of
the Greek-speaking monks, under the recommendation of archbishop
Athanasius.94
But Pachomius also admitted disciples with no previous connection
to the community, whether local residents or itinerants attracted by the
holy man’s reputation for teaching or healing.95 Among the latter was
Theodore himself, who left his community at Esna after hearing one of
Pachomius’s scriptural interpretations.96 The motivations and character of
unknown postulants was a matter of concern, leading Pachomius to estab-
lish an initial interview.97 Justinian’s Novel 5 shows that this was an ongoing
challenge, noting the possibility of a “false pretext” and the psychological
difficulty of making this personal transition:
The most reverend abbots inquire of [postulants] whether they are freemen
or slaves, and where the desire for the monastic life comes from; and, hav-
ing learned that no evil pretext has led them to this, to place them among
those who are still taught and admonished; and to gain knowledge of their
endurance and sincerity. For the change of lifestyle is not easy, but occurs
through concentration of the soul.98
It was Augustine, however, who most clearly articulated several dilem-
mas of evaluating candidates for monasticism. First, their social back-
ground might be cause to suspect their motivations for taking up the
communal life:
Moreover there frequently now come to this profession of the service of
God, both people of servile condition, or also freedmen, or people freed
for this purpose by their masters or about to be freed, and from the peas-
ant life, and from the exertion and plebeian labor of workmen, people

93
V. Pach. SBo 40 describes visitors attending the synaxis; Shenoute preached regularly to non-
monastics at the White Monastery church, as recorded in the Discourses. Some who sought admis-
sion were still catechumens (V. Pach. SBo 81), others were clerics, who had to agree to abide by the
same rules as non-ordained disciples (V. Pach. SBo 25). Cf. White Monastery Rule 472 (Layton
2014: 294–295).
94
V. Pach. SBo. 89 (CSCO 89: 103).
95
Pachomius’s reputation is explicitly acknowledged as a source of recruits in a passage about the vari-
ous “Romans” who join the monastery (V. Pach. SBo 89). In one anecdote, Pachomius expels a spirit
that had been disturbing a prospective monk (V. Pach. SBo 111).
96
V. Pach. SBo 30 and V. Pach. G1 35; the episode is analyzed in more detail in Chapter 1. For suspicions
about wandering monks, see Caner 2002, 19–23.
97
P 49, discussed in detail in Chapter 2.
98
Justn., Nov. 5:2 (Schöll: 29).
38 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
whose upbringing was more auspicious the more difficult it was; who, if
not admitted, is a heavy sin.99
Augustine qualifies this prejudice by noting that many of poor back-
ground have become exemplary ascetics, quoting 1 Cor 1:27 in favor of
accepting all such postulants:
This pious and holy thought brings it about that such people are admitted
even if they bring no demonstration that their life has changed for the bet-
ter. For neither is it apparent whether they have come for the purpose of
serving God, or whether, fleeing a poor and toilsome life, they want to be
fed and clothed; and what is more to be honored by those from whom they
had become accustomed to contempt and abuse.100
Second, regardless of status, it was crucial to determine a postulant’s
character, in particular the propensity for sin and capacity for obedience.
Augustine, who drew on both acquaintances and strangers for his clerical
monastery at Hippo, describes the tense uncertainty of the interview in a
striking passage from the Ennarrationes in Psalmos, a fictional dialogue with
a monastic superior: “What is he going to say? ‘I will be cautious: I will
admit no one bad.’ How will you not admit no one bad? . . . How do you
know whom you might want to exclude? . . . Does everyone come to you
with naked hearts? Those who intend to enter do not even know them-
selves. How much less do you know about them?”101 Augustine’s skepticism
is unique, just as his straightforward appeal to theory of mind clarifies the
key issue of monastic recruitment: it is impossible – at least for an ordinary
superior – to accurately read the hearts of postulants, who are not even
themselves aware of their own character.
In Part One, I explore the admission of new disciples from the perspective
of the anxieties about motivation and character articulated by Augustine.
Chapter 1 examines general concerns about fitness for the monastic life
that are based primarily on gender and social status, rather than the char-
acter or life history of a particular monk. Chapter 2 explores concerns
about the character of the monks, including previous sinful behavior, as
well as their capacity to obey monastic discipline. Although some monastic
leaders asserted a charismatic ability to judge the hearts and motivations
of postulants, a variety of entrance procedures, from interviews to hazing
rituals, were used to assess their commitment.

99
Aug., De op. mon. 25 (CSEL 41: 570–571).
100
Aug., De op. mon. 25 (CSEL 41: 571).
101
Aug., Psal. 99:11 (PL 37: 1277)
 Ch apter 1

Discerning Motivation I
Status and Vocation

Archbishop Timothy of Alexandria: “If someone comes to you with

a wife and child, do you accept him to you?” Horsiesius: “We have a
rule, which is from our father [Pachomius], not to reject anyone who
comes to us, on account of the Gospel commandment, ‘The one who
will not leave behind wife and children on account of my name, is
not worthy of me.’ So the one who comes to us, we receive joyfully.”1
So, because we see some among us whose heart has become estranged,
both great and small, after they promised (erēt) God to walk in his
law, and after renouncing (apotasse) their possessions for this voca-
tion, each one according to his ability, incited by the Holy Spirit,
and [after] they revealed themselves to everyone who saw them, “we
are children of the holy vocation of the Koinonia,” and proclaiming
to some, “there is no stumbling block in the path which we are on,”
and instructing others who want to become monks, “come to us and
share with us the holy commandments that God gave to Apa” Theo.,
Instr. 3:20.2
Why would individuals renounce their family and property to adopt an
austere lifestyle of labor and asceticism? The sources promise salvation for
those who fulfill their vow, and this is by far the most prominent goal in
monastic discourse. Pachomius asserts that his monks are “already pledged
an entry into the blessed life.”3 For subsequent leaders of the Koinonia such
as Theodore, “the holy commandments that God gave to Apa” were the
mechanism of salvation, the inheritance given by the founder Pachomius
to his disciples.4 Some disciples evidently viewed their monastic habit as

1
Crum and Ehrhard 1915: 16.
2
CSCO 159: 49.
3
Paralip. 9:20 (Halkin: 145).
4
Theo., Instr. 3:20 (CSCO 159: 49). Horsiesius describes them as a ‘ladder leading to the kingdom of
heaven’ (Hors., Test. 22, Boon: 121).

39
40 Evaluating Postulants
the marker of salvation, but Theodore urged them instead to have faith in
Pachomius as intercessor, provided they followed his rules.5
Of course, both ancient authors and modern scholars have suspected
other reasons for joining the monastery. Perhaps the most important source
for exploring the various motivations of postulants is protreptic literature,
which praised the ascetic lifestyle, and urged the audience to adopt it. The
earliest examples of this genre were addresses by bishops to young women,
encouraging them to become virgins.6 The Epistle of Ammon demonstrates
that proponents of the monastic life, such as Athanasius of Alexandria,
adapted protreptic in praise of virginity for their cause. Ammon thus
describes his decision to take up monasticism:  “Having listened to the
blessed papa Athanasius in church discussing the way of life of the monks
and perpetual virgins, and marveling at the hope laid up for them in
heaving, I  fell in love with and chose their blessed life.”7 Although no
Pachomian protreptic literature survives, and there is relatively little from
cenobitic monasticism more generally, it is clear that prospective mem-
bers of these communities shared concerns addressed in other examples of
ascetic protreptic.
Protreptic texts were directed to a variety of audiences, including female
virgins, young male ascetics, and married people. They invoked other-
worldly salvation, while at the same time criticizing “worldly” lifestyles,
including motherhood, civil careers, and family life, depending on the
group addressed. As anthropologist Claudia Strauss notes, “members of
a society can use the same language and share exposure to many of the
same repeated social messages while differing greatly in the penumbra of
associations around their shared concepts, because no two people have
exactly the same experiences.”8 The experience of entering a monastery var-
ied widely, based on factors such as gender and social background: young
women might follow their parents, or fight with them to avoid marriage;
husbands might abandon their wives and children, or join together with
them; slaves might follow their masters into the community, or hide in one
after running away.
According to Horsiesius, the requirement to accept all those interested in
becoming a monk was so great that it overruled the Gospel commandment

5
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 185), on which see Chapter 6.
6
For a survey of the De virginitate literature, see Camelot 1952.
7
Ep. Am. 2 (Goehring: 124). Athanasius wrote several protreptic works to virgins, including the First
and Second Letter to Virgins, and On Virginity. For a discussion of their authenticity, see Brakke 1994;
for the role of virgins in the archbishop’s ecclesiastic politics, see Brakke 1995, 17–79.
8
Strauss 1992, 12.
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 41
to abandon one’s family in the pursuit of salvation.9 Indeed, early Christian
monasticism was a family affair for many disciples.10 But such liberal
admissions policies also meant that cenobitic groups included monks from
a full range of gender and status backgrounds. As A. H. M. Jones correctly,
if offhandedly, remarked: “Hermits, monks and nuns were drawn indis-
criminately from all classes of society from the highest to the lowest . . .”11
This chapter provides extensive documentation for his assertion, exploring
the particular situations of the following categories of postulant:  young
women and men; the married, families, and elderly; children; as well as
low-status laborers, slaves, and even fugitive criminals.
Despite, or perhaps because of, this proclaimed openness to accepting
new members, there is an acute anxiety about the abandonment of monas-
tic life: those “whose heart has become estranged,” as Theodore calls them,
who risk going back on their vocation and vow. This development is attrib-
uted to “stumbling blocks,” namely, circumstances that make it difficult to
become a monk and then remain one. In this chapter, we will explore the
general challenges faced by monks as a result of their backgrounds, while
the next chapter examines tests for the moral shortcomings of individual
disciples. All members, from the elite to slaves, faced suspicions regarding
their motivations for joining the monastery, which were based on their
particular social backgrounds. For instance, did they join to avoid civic
responsibility or were they compelled by the rigors of poverty?
A related anxiety was that external pressures, such as unsupportive family
members, might encourage the monk to leave the community. For exam-
ple, Theodore’s mother comes to retrieve him from the Koinonia, armed
with letters from her local bishop.12 The perception that younger men and
women had been coerced into joining through aggressive recruitment had
to be avoided.13 Thus, monastic sources often emphasize the decision to
become a monk was made freely, without compulsion. Postulants were not
supposed to be motivated either by undue pressure from monastic leaders,
or by some personal necessity, such as poverty. Commitment narratives,

9
Similarly, in the First Sahidic Life, Pachomius has a vision in which he is instructed to offer spiritual
care to others, accepting all who come to him (V. Pach. S1, CSCO 99/100: 2).
10
On biological families in Shenoute’s monastery, see Krawiec 2002, 161–174.
11
Jones 1964, 2:931.
12
In V. Pach. SBo 37 (CSCO 89: 39), Theodore’s mother brings a letter from the bishop of Sne. In
the First Greek Life, she brings ‘letters’ from certain ‘bishops’: V. Pach. G1 37 (Halkin: 22–23). This
episode is discussed in more detail below.
13
While there is little evidence of recruitment in the Pachomian sources, in the passage quoted above
Theodore notes that his disciples encouraged some prospective monks to embrace the ‘holy com-
mandments that God gave to Apa’ (Theo., Instr. 3:20, CSCO 159: 49).
42 Evaluating Postulants
which we explore in this chapter’s final section, legitimate the adoption of
the monastic life by emphasizing the role of God in personal vocations,
and the individual’s free response to this call.

I. Status, Motivations, and Pressures

Single Women
Young women who pledged a life of celibacy were among the most dis-
tinctive Christians groups during the movement’s first several centuries,
before a similar custom became widespread among men.14 When the first
female monasteries were established, there was already a long tradition
of dedicated virgins associated with churches. Indeed, Susanna Elm has
demonstrated how the earliest monastic communities developed in aris-
tocratic households under the direction of ascetic women such as Basil’s
sister Macrina.15 But many young female virgins were of low status, and the
frequent praise of virginity by ecclesiastic writers was directed at families
from all social and economic backgrounds.16
Compared to the numerous sources on dedicated virgins, there is far less
evidence for recruitment practices on behalf of female cenobia.17 Ammon
describes how his three-year stay in a Pachomian monastery resulted from
hearing Athanasius’s praise of virgins, alongside monks.18 And there are
other hints of a close connection between earlier traditions of dedicated
virgins and developing forms of cenobitic monasticism. Mary, the sister of
Pachomius, who is said to have been “a virgin since childhood,” presides
over a women’s community near Tabennesi.19 Unfortunately, Pachomian
sources offer no more details about the female members of the Koinonia.20

14
Brown 1988, 33–64.
15
Elm 1994, 92–105. For extensive reflections on the decision to take up virginity in the context of
Late Antique family life, see now Vuolanto 2015.
16
Of course, the assertion that ascetic renunciation leads to a higher rather than a lower status was a
particular concern for aristocrats (Clark 1981).
17
Papyrological evidence for female ascetics, living alone or in a community, is discussed in Albarrán
Martínez 2015, 14–20.
18
Ammon is led to the monastery of Phbow by two monks who have brought letters from Theodore
to Athanasius. For Athanasius’s relationship with the Pachomians, see Brakke 1995, 111–129.
19
V. Pach. SBo. 27 (CSCO 107: 26–27). The First Greek Life as we have it does not contain the story
of Pachomius’ sister, and instead attributes to Pachomius the founding of women’s communities at
Bechne, near Phbow, and Tsmine: V. Pach. G1 134 (Halkin: 84). On the Pachomian women’s com-
munity, see further Pall., HL 33–34.
20
Paula and Eustochium also transitioned from dedicated virgins to cenobites at Bethlehem, in col-
laboration with Jerome. Details on the specific workings of double monasteries are scarce; the best
attestation is for the Basilian system, on which see Stramara 1998.
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 43
Much more is known about the women’s monastery in the White Monastery
federation. But Shenoute does not address the motivations of female
monastics for joining the community in his extant Canons, beyond the
frequent appeals to salvation.21 So it is necessary to look elsewhere, includ-
ing the De virginitate literature, for this information.The best evidence
for recruitment into women’s monastic communities is among wealthy
families, including the Roman aristocracy.22 Elite women of all ages vis-
ited the homes of prominent female ascetics, such as the widow Marcella,
the first Roman woman of rank to accept monasticism. She lived with her
mother, Albina, on the Aventine and attracted a circle of female followers,
including Paula and Eustochium. These ties among women often proved
stronger than their relationships with male spiritual advisors: despite their
long association with Jerome, and his continuous stream of advice,23 Paula
and Eustochium refer to Marcella as their teacher and to themselves as her
disciples.24 Similarly, Athanasius encouraged virgins to be “silent students”
before “elder women” in his Second Letter to Virgins.25
The strong, if gradual attraction towards the charismatic teacher as a moti-
vation to adopt asceticism in such circles is suggested in the Life of Syncletica
by Ps.-Athanasius, probably composed in fifth-century Alexandria. After
retreating to her family’s tomb outside the city, Syncletica (literally, “sen-
atorial”) attracts a group of female disciples, probably similar in compo-
sition to the elite circles of Rome. The Life seems to have been written by
one of them, who describes how her own ascetic commitment was tied
to the process of “falling in love” with her teacher, Syncletica:  “Because
we have an infantile and unpracticed soul, although we associated with
the pearl which was next to us, we saw nothing great, paying attention to
appearance alone, and we were far from a knowledge of her nature. But
little by little we learned her beauty from companions, and a divine love
was born in us, toward what was seen, and her very deeds were inflaming
our mind toward desire.”26 This emphasis on the steady progression of love
may reflect the frequent contact with female ascetic teachers that young
women from pious families enjoyed, beginning at a young age.

21
Krawiec 2002, 21 identifies salvation as a significant reason for joining the White Monastery, in the
case both of women and men.
22
For the role of female virgins in the Christianization of the Roman aristocracy, see Brown 1988, 342–
345. Salzman admits their importance, but cautions against exaggerating their influence (Salzman
1989, 2).
23
e.g. Hier., Ep. 22 (Labourt vol. 1: 110–160).
24
e.g. Hier., Ep. 46:1 (Labourt vol. 2: 100).
25
Ath., Ep. Virg. 2:8 (trans. Brakke 1995, 71–72).
26
Ps.-Ath., V. Syncl. 1 (Abelarga: 183–184).
44 Evaluating Postulants
The treatises on virginity suggest a number of possible motivations that
are equally relevant for cenobitic monasticism. All of them point to sal-
vation, sometimes through the striking metaphor of marriage to Christ;
Athanasius, for example, observes: “from this kind of blessed union, true
and immortal thoughts come forth, bearing salvation.”27 Nevertheless,
some authors appealed to physical and material considerations, such as
freedom from the various troubles of married life, including childbirth,
domestic responsibilities, and spousal abuse.28 Syncletica’s protreptic
address, for example, says of wives: “For when they bear children, they
perish from toils; when they don’t give birth because they are sterile, they
waste away, childless, under reproaches.”29 From the perspective of parents,
a daughter’s acceptance of virginity had advantages, from enhanced pres-
tige (for low-status families) to avoiding the cost of a dowry.30
On the other hand, protreptic literature reveals that some young women
might also face opposition from family members both before and after
adopting a life of virginity. As Ambrose states in his On Virgins, “For I know
many virgins who had the desire, but were prevented from going forward
by their mothers. . .”31 He further suggests that some parents threatened
to deny their daughters inheritance money (presumably the equivalent of
their dowry) if they choose to become virgins.32 Virgins from elite families,
such as Melania the Younger, were expected to produce male heirs to fam-
ily traditions and fortunes. For poorer families, having a virgin at home
could be a financial burden, though they might contribute to household
economics through weaving or other activities; joining a cenobitic mon-
astery would have been a less controversial solution than alternative living
arrangements, such as receiving room and board from male ascetics in
exchange for domestic upkeep.33
Ascetic literature also revealed concerns about maintaining commit-
ment:  Ps.-Basil, for example, encouraged fathers to examine their daugh-
ters for any troubling signs, such as a wandering gaze, before allowing her
to become a virgin.34 Many other works, such as Jerome’s famous Letter

27
Ath., Ep. Virg. 1:3 (trans. Brakke 1995, 275).
28
For a discussion, see Castelli 1986, 68–70, with references.
29
Ps.-Ath., V. Syncl. 42 (Abelarga: 216).
30
Basil, Ep. 199, who is concerned that young girls are enrolled by their parents for material advan-
tages without showing interest in the life of virginity: see discussion in Elm 1994, 140.
31
Ambr., Virg. 1.10.57-8 (Gori: 156). See also the references in Castelli 1986, 81–82.
32
For a discussion of this and similar threats, see Vuolonto 2015, 133–135, who is skeptical that such
charges are accurate.
33
On such ‘spiritual marriage’, and its critics, see Leyerle 2001.
34
Ps.-Basil, De virg. 2:15–18.
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 45
22 to Eustochium, offer stern warnings against breaking the vow: “I do not
want that pride develop in you as a result of your vow, but fear.”35 Jerome
suggests that her aristocratic lifestyle will create special problems. Citing his
own temptations while fasting in the desert, he asks, “What will become
of a girl who enjoys luxuries?”36 Gerontius, biographer of the Roman sen-
atorial ascetic Melania the Younger, notes that both she and her husband
Pinian initially could not practice intensive asceticism because of their com-
fortable upbringing.37 Syncletica argued that the immediate renunciation of
property could prove too difficult, instead suggesting a more gradual accli-
mation to the ascetic life through preliminary fasting and vigil.38
The tensions that could arise with high-status members of female mon-
asteries is evident in several of Besa’s letters to nuns, all of which warn them
not to leave the community: Aphthonia (Frag. 13), Antinoe (Frag. 14 and
29), Herai (Frag. 30 and 32), and an anonymous female recipient (Frag. 35).39
Besa’s letter to Aphthonia, daughter of comes Alexandros, concerns various
aspects of her relationship with her parents, who have presumably remained
seculars. He warns her to stop sending letters to them, complaining about dis-
cipline (“they fought with me,” or “they abused me”), and not to receive more
gifts from them.40 Aphthonia, for her part, has threatened to go to another
monastery. Although the resolution of this dispute is unknown, the letters
to Antinoe and Herai suggest that they too have threatened to leave, taking
property with them.41 In short, high-status women living in a female ceno-
bium had more freedom to leave the community in situations of conflict, as
they were able to draw on family resources, including wealth and donations.

Single Men
Young single men who considered monasticism as an alternative to marriage
did so with a significantly different set of motivations and pressures than
their sisters. Both Pachomius and Martin of Tours began their monastic

35
Hier., Ep. 22:3 (Labourt vol. 1: 112). Early canonical legislation such as the Council of Elvira (306 CE),
Canon 13, and the Council of Ancyra (314 CE), Canon 19, specify punishment for breaking the vow.
36
Hier., Ep. 22:8 (Labourt vol. 1: 118).
37
V. Mel. 8 (SC 90: 140).
38
Ps.-Ath., V. Syncl. 31.
39
E.g. Besa, Frag. 13 (CSCO 157: 37–39), Frag. 14 (CSCO 157: 40–41), Frag. 30 (CSCO 157: 99–104),
Frag. 32 (CSCO 157: 105–112), Frag. 35 (CSCO 157: 115–117).
40
Besa, Frag. 13 (CSCO 157: 38).
41
In both letters, Besa warns: ‘Let not the things which we promised to God be accounted to us from
that hour; rather they are accounted to God’ (CSCO 157: 40–41) and ‘Let not the things which we
promised to God be accounted to you from that hour; rather they are accounted to God (CSCO
157: 111). See Chapter 2 for a discussion of this text in relation to property renunciation.
46 Evaluating Postulants
careers after serving as soldiers in the late Roman army. This pattern was
not restricted to community founders: the History of the Monks in Egypt
relates how two military tribunes adopt the ascetic life after meeting the
Macarii.42 Indeed, Noel Lenski has demonstrated that, by the late fourth
century, “monastic and military ambitions clashed” in the aspirations of
many young men.43 Some chose to become monks at the expense of other
professions related to local or imperial administration – city council mem-
bers and tax collectors, for example – as is suggested by legislation forbid-
ding this.44
Among those expected to assume a career in the imperial or local gov-
ernment were elite males, including Basil of Caesarea, an important pro-
moter of cenobitic monasticism. The traditional path was an education
in rhetoric, and perhaps law, often from well-connected teachers, such as
Libanius, in urban centers, such as Antioch. During these studies, they fell
under the sway of teachers who encouraged them to adopt an ascetic life-
style. While Basil says little about his early relationship with Eustathius,
Hilary of Arles described how his relative Honoratus, founder of Lérins,
left the island monastery to find him in Arles. Hilary, using an erotic lan-
guage characteristic of such narratives, emphasizes the “violence” with
which Honoratus recruited him, as well as his initial ambivalence: “How
many times did ‘I want to’ and ‘I don’t’ succeed each other in my soul!”45
As an elite male with a promising career in civic administration, Hilary’s
indecision was justified. Like the De virginitate literature, various protrep-
tic treatises intended for men declared that the ascetic career was the most
prestigious one. After John Chrysostom had become a monk and then a
priest at Antioch, he wrote A Comparison between a King and a Monk (no
doubt intended for other students of Libanius), which argued that the
monastic life is far superior not only to the imperial administration, but
also to the emperor himself. In other ascetic writings, Chrysostom fre-
quently returns to these themes: in On Compunction, written to the ascetic
Demetrius, he favorably contrasts a monk’s concerns with the greed and
stress of “those who are charged with executing the commands of rulers or
the administration of public offices, [who] do not trouble themselves with
these [spiritual] things, but rather [are concerned] only if a practice brings

42
HM 23:2.
43
See Lenski 2004, 102, with further examples.
44
Valentinian III, Novel 35. An earlier edict of Valentinian I  (dated either 370 or 373)  argued that
certain lazy monks had shirked their civic duties for the desert: C. Th. 12.1.63 (Mommsen).
45
Hilar.-Arel., V. Hon. 23:3 and 23:6 (Valentin: 136).
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 47
profit.”46 Just as women are advised to avoid the toils of childbirth and
marriage, asceticism for men is presented as an escape from the burdens
and anxieties related to administration and finance, whether in official
positions, or, as we shall see, as heads of household.
After making the decision to renounce a secular career, many young elite
males tended to join urban ascetic circles.47 Some later abandoned the city
for more deserted locations: Basil and Gregory retreated to a wooded area
near the river Iris; Chrysostom lived for a while with hermits on Mount
Silpius, outside Antioch; and Jerome settled in the deserts south of that
city. The rigor of renunciation could prove challenging, especially for those
raised in relative comfort.48 Chrysostom illustrates well the anxieties of his
class as he recalls the doubts he suffered before leaving Antioch to adopt
the anchoritic life on Silpius:49
For, when I had first decided to seek out the habitations of monks, having
abandoned the city, I was constantly examining and concerned with where
the delivery of my necessities would come from; and whether I could eat
fresh bread daily, and whether someone would not force me to use the same
oil for my lamp and for my food, and whether someone would not force
upon me a miserable meal of vegetables; and assign me some tiring work,
such as digging, or carrying logs or hauling water, or to do all other such
tasks. In short, I was greatly concerned about having rest.
Chrysostom may have overcompensated by adopting a regime so severe
that it permanently ruined his health, forcing him to return to Antioch.
Later, as a priest and bishop, he practiced a less strict form of asceticism.
Chrysostom’s mother, who tolerated his vow of chastity, had strongly
resisted his departure to Silpius, and succeeded in delaying it.50 Such resis-
tance from family members is typical, and was addressed in protreptic
treatises. His own Letter to Theodore urges a fellow member of Diodore’s
circle in Antioch not to leave the group to marry a young woman and
receive his patrimony.51 This was also a concern in cenobitic monasteries,
as a fragmentary exhortation of Pachomius makes clear:

46
Chrys., Compunct. 1 1:1 (PG 47: 403).
47
E.g. Chrysostom and Basil. became disciples of Diodore of Taursus at Antioch; Socr., H.E. 6:3
(Hussey).
48
Stagirius, a monk from a wealthy Antiochene family known to Chrysostom, also had many dif-
ficulties adjusting to the ascetic life, which were attributed to this background: Chrys., Stag. 1 (PG
47: 425–426).
49
Chrys., Compunct. 1 1:6 (PG 47: 403).
50
Chrys., Sac. 1 (Nairn).
51
Chrys., Thdr. (PG 47: 278–308).
48 Evaluating Postulants
I exhort you, monastic siblings who love the Lord, to allow no such thought
as this to fly upon your heart, saying: “Behold, the patriarchs and the proph-
ets also participated in the married life and were pleasing to God”. . . . For,
it is impossible that one who has promised himself to God should turn
himself again to worldly toils and the many sorrows of those in the world.52
In Chrysostom’s response to the family pressure experienced by
Theodore, he brings up the example of Urbanus, a wealthy orphan who
had come to Antioch to study with Libanius, only to become a monk out-
side the city. The guardians of Urbanus eventually convince him to return
to Antioch, criticizing his fellow ascetics for interrupting his studies and
thus rendering him incompetent to administer his estate.53 A similar kind
of familial pressure is evident in Jerome’s Letter 14, an ascetic treatise so
popular that one of his disciples, Fabiola, even committed it to memory.54
Jerome’s bitter letter is addressed to Heliodorus, a former soldier who had
accompanied him from their urban ascetic community in Aquilea to the
desert of Syria in order to live as anchorites there. He soon decides to
return to Italy to assume the priesthood, apparently to become head of his
household after the death of his father. The same familial resistance is evi-
dent in the cenobitic life. Jerome himself adapted the case of Heliodorus
to his literary portrait of the monk Malchus, which was composed around
the time of Letter 14: the protagonist leaves his family to become a monk
in Syria, but later returns when he learns that his father has died, despite
the vehement protests of his superior.55
Family conflict in the Pachomian sources is most evident in the career
of Theodore, who joins a community of ascetics near Latopolis at the age
of twelve or fourteen.56 Nothing is said of parental opposition at this point,
perhaps because he has remained close to his family’s residence. However,
after Theodore moves north to join Pachomius’s community at Tabennesi,
he encounters familial resistance.57 His mother arrives at the monastery
with another son, Paphnouti, demanding that Theodore be given back

52
Pach., Frag. 4 (CSCO 159: 29–30).
53
Chrys., Thdr. 1:17 (PG 47:  303–304). After continued pressure from his former colleagues, he
becomes a monk again.
54
Hier., Ep. 77:9 (Labourt vol. 4: 49).
55
Hier., V. Malch. 3 (SC 508).
56
According to the Great Coptic Life, Theodore receives a vision at the age of fourteen and then
joins a monastery the next day: V. Pach. SBo 31 (CSCO 89: 33–35); while in the First Greek Life, he
receives a vision at the age of twelve and then lives an ascetic life for two years before joining the
ascetic community at Latopolis at the age of fourteen: V. Pach. G1 33 (Halkin: 20–21).
57
V. Pach. SBo 30 (CSCO 89: 32–33); cf. V. Pach. G1 35 (Halkin: 21–22). See the discussion of commit-
ment narratives below for further analysis of Theodore’s early ascetic career.
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 49
to her, and carrying a letter to Pachomius from the bishop of Latopolis
expressing this request.58 Theodore refuses to meet with his mother; in
the Great Coptic Life, his brother Paphnouti, who had accompanied her,
remains to become a monk. Although no details are provided, it seems
likely that his mother objected to Theodore’s departure from Esna, where
he might have ascended the ecclesiastic hierarchy while still fulfilling his
filial responsibilities; since the family had influence (they are cared for “in a
place fitting their position [schēma]”59), such requests were taken seriously,
and the Great Coptic Life is careful to note that Pachomius encouraged
Theodore to meet his mother, but the young monk refused.60
Mary’s letter from her bishop is just one example of ecclesiastic authorities
applying pressure to postulants or new monks. This is especially apparent
for lectors, an office in urban churches frequently occupied by ascetically-
inclined young men, in order to learn the Scriptures. This made them the
clients of bishops, who often ordained them as priests. The young Basil,
dividing his time between life at a monastery in Annisa and as a lector at
Caesarea, fled to Pontus after being ordained by the new bishop Eusebius,
with whom he disputed. Several decades later, John Chrysostom, who was
not only a member of Diodore’s ascetic group at Antioch, but also a lector
for bishop Meletius, adopted the ascetic life on Mount Silpius in order to
avoid the responsibilities of the priesthood.
Similar tensions are evident in the story of Theodore the Alexandrian, the
leader of the Pachomian community’s Greek house. Theodore, originally
from a pagan family, was “moved by the Spirit” to become a Christian as a
young adult. At the same time, he resolved to practice asceticism, vowing:
“If the Lord directs my path so that I may become a Christian, then I will
also become a monk and I will preserve my body without stain until the
day when the Lord will visit me.”61 Bishop Athanasius of Alexandria soon
baptizes him, immediately making him a lector, and granting him a place in
the church to live the ascetic life. When Theodore encounters Pachomian
monks visiting the city, he asks to join them, but they refuse initially,
“because of your parents and because of the archbishop.” After obtaining

58
The account is in both V. Pach. SBo 37 (CSCO 89: 39) and V. Pach. G1 37 (Halkin: 22–23); in the
former, Theodore’s mother merely requests to see him. In the latter, she at first demands his return,
but then decides to become a monastic in the affiliated community. Cf. the initial resistance of the
aristocratic matron Mariana to her son Fulgentius’s decisjoin to join the local monastery, which
included weeping at the gate (V. Fulg. 4, PL 65).
59
V. Pach. SBo 37 (CSCO 89: 39).
60
Ibid.
61
V Pach. SBo 89 (CSCO 89: 102). Demonstration of Theodore’s free choice in the matter would have
been especially important given his young age – perhaps still only fourteen.
50 Evaluating Postulants
Athanasius’s approval, Theodore joins the Koinonia, where he becomes
leader of the Greek house.
Other male elites seeking to become monks encountered opposition
from family members. Dorotheus, who was from a wealthy Antiochene
family, decided to enter the monastery of Tawatha in Gaza after his rhe-
torical (and possibly medical) education. Barsanuphius and John accept
him as a monk, but his parents resist the idea of giving away his property.62
Probably as a compromise, he was granted extra clothing due to his poor
health and his books were donated to the monastic library rather than
sold.63 Dorotheus’s family wealth continued to influence his position in
the monastery: he was appointed director of the infirmary that his brother
had financed, and his Discourses suggest he continued to enjoy substantial
authority at Tawatha.64 He was unable to complete more rigorous ascetic
practices, a frequent concern regarding young male disciples from wealthy
backgrounds.65
An interesting strategy for ensuring the future loyalty of young elites is
found in the Rule of the Master.66 The abbot must interview the parents in
order to ensure that they consent to the decision; if so, he should exhort
them to disinherit their son, so that there is no temptation to abandon the
monastery for the fortune. Alternately, they should divide his inheritance
into three parts: one to be distributed to the poor; a second to the family
“as a gift in the form of a bequest;” and a third to the common fund of the
monastery, or the other members. Although it is not clear that a wealthy
recruit such as Hilary would have followed such a procedure, the passage
demonstrates an effort to provide a legal basis for encouraging wealthy
disciples to remain in the monastery.

The Married, Families, and Elderly

Although famous saints usually committed to asceticism in their youth,
older women and men – whether single, married, or widowed – probably
formed a significant portion of new recruits. Sometimes parents would
join the community with their children, either young or adult.67 Many in

62
Bars., Resp. 319. For more on Dorotheus’s early career as a monk, see Hevelone-Harper 2005, 62–68.
63
Bars., Resp. 326 (SC 450: 323–324). Barsanuphius allowed him to keep a small plot of land, again
because of his sickly condition (Resp. 254, SC 450: 212).
64
V. Dos. 1 (SC 92).
65
Bars., Resp. 257 ; Cf. V. Fulg. 3.
66
RM 91 (SC 106). See further the discussion of property renunciation in Chapter 2.
67
On family members in Shenoute’s monastery, see Krawiec 2002, 161–174.
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 51
this group were already pious Christians who attended services at the mon-
astery, donated to it, and knew the leaders. On the other hand, making a
clean break with family and civic responsibilities was difficult; and both
the elderly and married faced suspicions about their motivation.
Renunciation with one’s spouse was presented as the fulfillment of
married life, as explained by Abba Abraham in the Conferences: “I previ-
ously had a wife in the lascivious passion of desire. Now I have this same
woman in honourable sanctification and the true love of Christ.”68 Basil’s
Introductory Outline of Asceticism contains a short protreptic addressed to
mothers and fathers in favor of joining with their children: “Let us pre-
sent to the Lord what was given through him, that we might share in
the good reputation of our children, bringing and presenting ourselves.”69
Pachomius suggests a concern that married postulants were abandoning
their children: “As for the secular life, it is not appropriate when someone
has children, and the dangers of poverty overtake him, and he goes and
abandons them on the pretext of monasticism.”70 On the other hand, there
is some evidence that the Koinonia included multi-generational families:
a passage in the First Greek Life on the women’s community directed by
Pachomius’s sister Mary notes that it was possible for male monks to make
arrangements to see sisters or mothers who were living there.71
The only multi-generational monastic family in the Koinonia about
which we are informed is the one belonging to Petronius, whose par-
ents are described as “of rank, possessed of great fortune.”72 Petronius
builds a monastery on the family property, and is eventually joined by
his brother and father, donating everything to the Koinonia upon the lat-
ter’s death; he directs his own monastery, and eventually the entire feder-
ation after Pachomius’s death. A  similar connection between donations
and the entry of wealthy father-son groups is evident on a larger scale in
Constantinople:  Dalmatius, a wealthy member of the imperial bureau-
cracy, developed a close relationship with Isaac, the abbot of an important
monastery in the suburbs; after most likely donating a substantial amount
of money, he eventually joins the community with his son Faustus, both

68
Cassian, Inst. coen. 24:26 (CSEL 13: 706). See the discussion in Stewart 1998, 67–69.
69
PG 37: 625.
70
Pach., Frag. 4 (CSCO 159:  29–30). It remained a problem in the sixth century:  see Severus of
Antioch Ep. 2.10.6 (PO 12), in which Severus writes to the monastery of Mar Bassos about a monk
who had abandoned his wife and children.
71
V. Pach. G8 32 (Halkin 1982: 22). Cf. White Monastery Rules 258–260 (Layton 2014, 196–199).
72
V. Pach. SBo 56/V. Pach. G1 80. Though in the First Greek Life Theodore’s mother is said to join the
women’s community after he refuses to meet with her.
52 Evaluating Postulants
of whom later become its abbots.73 This seems to have been a relatively
frequent occurrence among pious senators: Pharetrius, for instance, pro-
vides for the construction of new buildings at the famous monastery of the
“sleepless monks” (Akoimētoi) that he later joined, along with his sons.74
Such joint father-son renunciations, along with donations of wealth,
are probably the targets of the imperial law of 370, which stipulates that
curiales who join monastic communities must first leave their property to
a family member who will use it to fulfill civic obligations.75
The motivations and logic of ascetic renunciation for married people can
be found in a fifth-century protreptic by Hypatius, abbot of the monas-
tery of the Rufinianae in suburban Constantinople, which he delivered to
both monks and lay people.76 Hypatius presents a long list of the burdens
of “living in the world,” widely applicable across social class and status,
especially the problem of providing material support for one’s family. He
explains that those who are seized by the “spirit of compunction” realize
that secular life has no value, whereas the benefits of being a monk include
the gifts of tranquility, contemplation, and material support “through men
who love God,” presumably supporters of the monastery. In this view, the
monastic life offered freedom from financial care for one’s family, and the
enjoyment of material support from others.
The decision to join a monastery could lead to considerable conflict
for married people if spouses or other family members did not approve.
Already in the second century, the apocryphal Acts of the Apostles high-
lights the controversy resulting from the adoption of chastity by married
people, especially women.77 In the next several centuries, the canons of
various councils legislate against this practice: for instance, at the Council
of Gangra in 340, the “Eustathians,” followers of an ascetic model later
adopted by bishop Basil of Caesarea were condemned because “many mar-
ried women . . . renounced their husbands, and men their own wives.”78
When large coenobitic monasteries became widespread in the fourth cen-
tury, their leaders attempted to address this problem. Basil, for instance,
clearly stated in his Long Rules that prospective monks were required to

73
Dalmatius’ career is outlined in two anonymous Lives, one edited by Banduri, the other by Gedeon;
see Caner 218 n. 39.
74
V. Marcelli 12 (PG 116: 718). It is not specified whether their sons were adults, nor are their wives
mentioned.
75
C. Th. 12.1.63 (Mommsen).
76
Call., V. Hyp. 24 (SC 177).
77
See Cooper 1996, and especially 92–115 on Late Antique elite women who seek chaste marriages.
78
Conc. Gangrense (Joannou: 86).
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 53
have the consent of their spouses before becoming members of his com-
munities in Asia Minor.79
Several sources provide insight into the complicated dynamics of mar-
ried postulants who leave behind an unwilling spouse. In Cassian’s Twenty-
First Conference, Theonas describes how he decided to become a monk
after hearing an address on grace and the law from Abba John, to whose
community he made a donation.80 He then exhorts his wife, in turn, to
adopt the ascetic life with him, a strategy recommended by Basil;81 she
refuses, warning that she is young, and he will be to blame if she falls into
adultery, again echoing Basil.82 Theonas instead chooses divorce, proclaim-
ing: “It is safer for me to have a divorce with a human than with God.”83
Cassian, well aware of the controversy surrounding “ascetic separation,”
adds a disclaimer that he does not wish to promote divorce.84 Yet he praises
Theonas’s virtue, and other monastic sources are sympathetic to the one-
sided termination of marriage as a form of renunciation.
The story of Matrona, who founded a monastery in Constantinople in
the late fifth century, illustrates the dynamics of women ending a mar-
riage to adopt asceticism. Her husband Dometianus disapproved of her
goal to become a monk, leading to a bitter and contested separation.
When she begins to visit saints’ shrines at Constantinople, becoming a
disciple of Eugenia and adopting ascetic practices, Dometianus opposes
these changes in her behavior, interpreting them as an affair. He finally
allows Matrona to visit the Church of the Holy Apostles, where she stays
the night with another female ascetic, the widow Susannah. This act of
“adultery” is a clear sign of her intention to separate from Dometianus,
and she soon joins the monastery of Babylas in Constantinople, disguised
as a man. The author of the Life is careful to state that the decision is
Matrona’s, not Eugenia’s, who even discourages her. Yet Eugenia helps her
to hide from her husband, who pursues her relentlessly, though unsuc-
cessfully. While Matrona’s actions violated earlier canon law, Justinian’s
Novel 123 made them legally valid:  becoming a monk was considered
the equivalent of divorce, provided some property was left to the former
spouse.85

79
Basil, LR 12 (PG 31: 948–949).
80
Cassian, Coll. 21:1–8.
81
Basil, LR 12 (PG 31: 949).
82
Basil, Moralia 734.
83
Cassian, Coll. 21:9 (CSEL 13: 584).
84
Cassian, Coll. 21:10.
85
Iustn., Novel. 123:40 (Schöll: 622).
54 Evaluating Postulants
There was a reluctance to admit elderly postulants, regardless of mari-
tal status, which was in striking contrast to the praise for older disciples
who had long practiced obedience in the monastery. According to the
biographical tradition, an old man who “tarried long in the world before
becoming a monk,” falsely accuses Pachomius before undertaking public
repentance.86 Cassian describes how the famed abbot Pinufius hides his
identity to live a humble life at the monastery of Tabennesi, but must first
endure a lengthy stay at the gate. He details the suspicions of Pinufius:87
And when he had finally been admitted with much contempt, because he
sought to enter the cenobium as a feeble old man who had lived all his life,
when he no longer had the ability to satisfy his passions – as they claimed he
was seeking this not for the sake of religion but because he was compelled
by hunger and the necessity of poverty, he was assigned to the care and man-
agement of the garden, as an old man and not particularly fit for any work.
This passage suggests a concern that older postulants had delayed join-
ing the monastery until they were forced to do so from lack of resources.
While both accounts ignore the details of the old men’s backgrounds, they
presume the special appeal of the cenobitic life for the elderly who have no
family to provide material support.

Young Children
While some children joined monasteries with their parents, others were
taken in as foundlings or orphans, or dedicated by their parents.88 The
range of ages varied widely: only Caesarius of Arles offers specific details,
stipulating that, “if possible,” children reach the age of seven or eight
before entering the monastery, when they had the capacity to read and to
obey.89 The Palestinian archimandrite Sabas did not allow children, includ-
ing adolescents without beards, into his community, to avoid creating situ-
ations of sexual temptation; his predecessor Euthymius had remarked that
they should instead be raised in a cenobium.90 Other sources suggest a

86
V. Pach. SBo 65; cf. V. Pach. G1 70.
87
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:30 (SC 109: 166).
88
For ascetic communities rescuing exposed babies, see Aug. Ep. 98:6 (PL 33: 362); Gr. Nyss., V. Macr.
36–38 (SC 178).
89
Caes.-Arel, Virg. 7 (SC 345: 186); cf. Aurelian, Mon. 17 (PL 68: 390), in which the minimum age
of entry for monks is 10 or 12 years. In Italian monasticism, children (infantes) were further dis-
tinguished between ‘little kids’ (pueri parvi) and ‘adolescents’ (adulescentes), though the precise age
ranges are uncertain: Ben., Reg. 70:4 (SC 182: 666); e.g. RM 59:10 (SC 106: 276) speaks of infantuli
‘under the age of 12’ (intra duodecim annos), while in RM 14:79 (SC 106: 60), infantuli are ‘under
the age of 15’ (usque quindecim annorum).
90
Cyr. S., V. Sab. (Schwartz: 91 and 113); see the discussion in Krueger 2011, 50–52, with further references.
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 55
persistent concern to establish that children were not held in the monas-
tery against their will, and that, upon reaching maturity, they could exer-
cise their own free will in choosing to remain in the monastery or depart.
There is evidence that some children were members of the Pachomian
Koinonia, although their backgrounds are rarely specified.91 According to
the biographical tradition, Pachomius, citing Matthew 18, exhorted his
disciples to instruct them through the study of scripture, including memo-
rization of the Psalms, as well as his own rule, “so that, if they preserve their
body pure from their youth, they may become temples of the Lord and the
Holy Spirit may dwell in them.”92 The story of Silvanus, who is admitted
as a child but later becomes undisciplined and is rebuked by Pachomius,
illustrates the dangers of making any concessions for the young.93 On the
other hand, as Pachomius notes in the First Greek Life, children will be
able to show greater ascetic prowess than monks who joined in adulthood
if they are “obedient from their earliest age.”94
Shenoute’s Canons frequently refer to “boys” (šēre) and “girls” (šeere) in
the White Monastery federation.95 It is likely that many joined at the same
time as their parents, but at least some of these children were orphans.96
Besa speaks of children in the monastery who have been “given to God.”97
The same basic conditions of membership apply to children:  they are
allowed to remain in the federation when they “have developed judg-
ment,” but the disobedient are expelled.98 They are the focus of a number
of rules, including some related to sexuality, and their proper discipline
seems to have been an area of substantial controversy.99
Many children were dedicated to monasticism by pious parents even
before their birth, especially in cases when infertility had been overcome.
The most famous example is bishop Theodoret of Cyrrhus (author of the
Religious History, a survey of Syrian monasticism), whose mother swore

91
Schroeder 2010, 322–323.
92
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99–100: 33–36). According to Benedict’s Rule, children did not have a single
spiritual director, but were supervised by the entire adult community, who could administer physi-
cal discipline; Ben., Reg. 30:2–3; 70:4–5 (SC 182).
93
V. Pach. G1 104 (Halkin: 68).
94
V. Pach. G1 49 (Halkin: 32).
95
Layton 2014, 55 n. 7; it has been suggested that these terms may in some instances refer more gener-
ally to ‘novice’ (e.g. Wilfong 2002, 317), though Layton expresses skepticism and argues that the
terms always refer to children.
96
Crislip 2005a, 134–135.
97
See Besa, Frag. 33 (CSCO 157: 113).
98
Rule 420 (Layton 2014, 268–269); cf. Basil, LR 15, who recommends that children take a ‘vow of
virginity’ only once ‘reason develops and the critical faculty arrives’ (PG 31: 956).
99
For regulations on physical contact with children, see Chapter 5; for the controversy in Canons 8
related to the discipline of children, see Chapter 7.
56 Evaluating Postulants
that he would be raised to live an ascetic life when she finally became
pregnant through the prayers of the holy man Macedonius. After visiting
the monks around Antioch as a child, he was enrolled in the nearby mon-
astery of Euprepius at the age of seven, where he remained until he was
elected bishop.100 Later child donation documents from the Monastery of
Phoibammon at Thebes suggest that parents promised to send ill children
to the monastery if they recovered.101
Yet this practice was not without controversy:  the bishop Philoxenus
of Mabbug, writing to monasteries under his jurisdiction in the early
sixth century, expressed concern that some children were forced into the
ascetic life by their families at an age when they were unable to exercise
free choice.102 Basil of Caesarea had addressed this dilemma in the fourth
century by stating that parents must consent to the admission of their
children, who will decide whether or not to remain in the monastery upon
reaching maturity.103 Poverty also seems to have been a motivation for such
transactions: in another Theban document, a father pleads with a mon-
astery not to return his daughter, apparently because he cannot afford to
support her.104 On the other hand, donations might come from all clas-
ses: according to Gregory, Benedict accepted the children of senators and
curiales at both Subiaco and Monte Cassino.105
Despite the concern that some children were placed in monasteries
against their will, the Life of Eupraxia suggests that even the very young
might join of their own initiative, with the consent of a parent. Eupraxia is
the seven-year-old daughter of a pious aristocrat who flees Constantinople
after she becomes a widow and is constantly beset by suitors. As the two
tour their estates in Upper Egypt, they visit the local monasteries, giv-
ing alms. At one women’s community particularly famous for its piety,
Eupraxia becomes instantly attached to the sisters, in a scene of unusual
pathos:106
One day the deaconess [i.e. the abbess] Theodoule said pleasantly to the
little girl, “Lady Eupraxia, do you love this monastery, and the sisters?” And

100
Thdt., Ep. 81. For Theodoret and his connections to monasticism, see Urbaniczyk 2002.
101
Texts 78–103 in Crum and Steindorff 1912, 253–320. For analysis of their content,
see Biedenkopf-Ziehner 2001, 12–14. For an overview of scholarly work on the documents, see
Papaconstantinou 2002.
102
Philoxenus, Homily 3:70.
103
Bas., LR 15.
104
Hall 1905, 93–94; discussed in Schroeder 2010, 332.
105
For a curial boy, see Greg.-M., Dial. 2:11 (SC 260: 172); for the son of a ‘senator’ (patricius), see
Greg.-M., Dial. 2:3 (SC 260: 150).
106
V. Eupr. 8 (AAS Martii 13: 921).
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 57
she said, “Yes, my lady, and I love you very much.” The deaconess said to
her again, sweetly, “If you love us, remain with us in the habit.” The little
girl said to her, “Truly, if my lady mother is not distressed, I will not yet
leave this place.” The deacon said to her, “Speak, my lady Eupraxia, whom
do you love more, us or the one who is engaged to you?” The daughter said
to her, “Neither do I know that one, nor he me. But I know you, and I love
you. And you, lady, whom do you love, me or that one?” The deaconess said
to her, “We love you, and our Christ.” The little girl said to her, “I love you
and Christ.” And her mother sat, and shed a river of tears. The deaconess
listened to the words of the little girl with pleasure – though a child in years,
she spoke such beautiful words. For she was not yet seven when she spoke
these words. And her mother, pained and crying bitterly, said “Here, child,
let’s go home, because now it’s evening.”
The deaconess slowly and playfully coaxes professions of love from the
young Eupraxia: for Christ, instead of her unknown fiancé, and then of
the sisters. At this point her mother, visibly upset, intervenes, illustrat-
ing the potential conflict between monastic recruiters and parents, even
pious ones. The following section continues to highlight the initiative of
Eupraxia:107
The little girl said to her: “I remain here with the lady, the deaconess.” The
deaconess said to the little girl, “Go on, mistress, you cannot remain here,
because no one can stay, unless they are in the order of Christ.” The little
girl said to her, “And where is Christ?” And the deaconess gladly showed her
the lordly icon. And the little girl, getting up, kissed the icon, and, turning,
said to the deaconess, “Surely I am engaged to Christ, and I will not now
leave with my lady mother.” The deaconess said to her, “You do not have
anywhere to sleep, child, and you cannot remain here.” And the little girl
said to the deaconess, “Where you sleep, lady, also I.”
Crucially, the deaconess urges Eupraxia to leave the monastery with her
mother, to avoid charges of coercion. The young child, it is emphasized,
herself makes the final decision to stay, apparently not moved by her moth-
er’s visible mourning.
Although Eupraxia had an aristocratic upbringing, she is soon engaged
in a number of menial chores, such as moving stones and chopping wood,
work associated most often with domestic servants and slaves. This is
consistent with documentary evidence from sixth- and seventh-century
Egyptian monasteries, which stipulates the significant duties of chil-
dren who have been donated by their parents.108 The legal status of these

107
Ibid.
108
Texts 78–103 in Crum and Steindorff 1912, 253–320.
58 Evaluating Postulants
children is strongly contested by scholars:  although their position while
in the monastery resembles slavery, upon reaching adolescence, they were
allowed to leave. On the other hand, the pueri in Sulpicius Severus’s com-
munity were not necessarily children, but slaves who were brought to the
monastic life by their master.109 In the following section, we explore these
and other low-status groups, who are largely invisible in monastic docu-
ments, especially hagiography.

Low-Status Individuals: Subsistence Laborers, Slaves, Freedmen

The majority of disciples in communal monasteries were probably from
low-status backgrounds, including subsistence laborers, slaves, or freed-
men. Members of these groups would have brought little if any property
with them; Augustine refers to such members of his community as “the
poor.”110 They faced suspicions about their motivations for joining, includ-
ing concerns that they will be unmasked as fugitive slaves or criminals, or
that they were joining because of economic constraint rather than piety
and a desire for salvation.
The disciples in the Pachomian Koinonia and Shenoute’s monastic
federation were engaged in various forms of menial labor, such as bas-
ket weaving, harvesting, shoemaking, and even large-scale construction.
Agriculture, probably focused on grains for baking bread, seems to have
grown in importance as monasteries gradually acquired land. Although
work assignments seem to have been rotated, and were not necessarily
based on former profession, the economic activities of Egyptian ceno-
bia suggest that many monks were drawn from the class of subsistence
laborers.111 Some would have been former coloni adscripticii, the title given
to wage laborers employed on the vast estates of the Apion family in Middle
Egypt.112 Such agricultural workers were legally tied to the estates on which
they were registered, primarily for expediting tax collection; landowners

109
For a general treatment of slavery in Late Antiquity, see Harper 2011. Harper, however, does not
consider monastic evidence in his otherwise thorough study.
110
Aug. Serm. 356:8 (PL 39: 1577). Former soldiers should probably also be included in this group,
such as the deacon Faustinus, who had only a few possessions, which he left to the brothers: Aug.
Serm. 356:4 (PL 39: 1576).
111
Many of the heroes in the Sayings of the Desert Fathers, for whom there is more biographical detail,
held low-status professions before they became monks: e.g. Macarius the Great, one of the found-
ers of the community of Scetis, had been a camel driver (and smuggler!): Apophth. Patr. “De abbate
Macario Aegyptio” 31 (PG 65: 273). For a general overview of the social origins of Egyptian monks,
see Wipszycka 2009, 355–360.
112
Sarris 2006, 64–68.
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 59
could pressure the coloni to stay, perhaps leading to tension with monastic
leaders.113
Although there is no evidence of slaves in Egyptian cenobia, they are
well attested elsewhere, especially in the ascetic “households” of wealthy
aristocrats, such as Macrina.114 For example, the double monastery of Paula
and Jerome in Bethlehem had a separate house for slaves.115 At least one
member of Augustine’s monastery at Hippo brought his slaves into the
community without emancipating them first.116 Yet slaves could join mon-
asteries independently of their masters, sometimes without their consent.
A novel of Valentinian forbade slaves and adscripticii from entering a mon-
astery, but this proved difficult to enforce. Basil directs that fugitive slaves
be returned to owners, following the example of Onesimus.117 At the sixth
session of the Council of Chalcedon, the emperor Marcian requested that
bishops require slaves and adscripticii to obtain the consent of their own-
ers/patrons before entering a monastery.118 And several monastic rules spec-
ify that owners must consent to the admission of their slaves.119
Yet abbots might defend their disciples against former owners. In the
Life of Hypatius, four slaves of the ex-consul Flavius Monaxius joined
the monastery; when the prominent senator demanded their return,
Hypatius refused to give up the ex-consul’s “fellow servants . . . with respect
to God.”120 Justinian’s Novel 5 eases the requirements of entry for slaves
wishing to become monks; during the three-year probationary period, if
the owner can prove that the slave has fled because of criminal activity,
he may take him back; otherwise, slaves who completed this period would
be manumitted and admitted to the monastery.121 In at least one instance, a

113
Similar tensions between Shenoute and the influential landowner Gesios are amply documented in
López 2013.
114
Elm 1994, 103.
115
Jerome Epitaph to Paula 20.1.1 (Cain: 74). Cain argues that the infimum genus (‘lowest class’) that
Jerome mentions in the Epitaph ‘probably were primarily the slaves of the nobiles’ (Cain 2013, 364).
Indeed, their presence is clear from remarks such as Jerome makes in his letter to Eustochium: Hier.,
Ep. 22.29: ‘If any female servants (ancillae) are companions of your vow, do not lift yourself up
against them, do not take pride that you are a mistress (domina)’ (Labourt vol.1: 142).
116
The deacon Heraclius brought several slaves into the monastery; Augustine later orders him to
emancipate them, but does not mention their names or whether they are considered monks; Aug.,
Serm. 356:7 (PL 39: 1577).
117
Basil, LR 11.
118
Con. S. (Schwartz vol. 2.3: 438), as reflected in the fourth canon of Chalcedon.
119
See further, on slaves, the Canons of Maruta of Mayferqat in Vööbus (1960, 143–145); the topic is
discussed briefly in Serap. Regula ad monachos 7:9–10 (PG 34: 973). See also Barone-Adesi 1990.
120
Call., V. Hyp. 21 (SC 177: 138). Hypatius, however, claims that he did not personally instate the
slaves; the ex-consul eventually relents.
121
Justn., Nov. 5:2. (Schöll: 29–30).
60 Evaluating Postulants
former slave became a monastic leader: Sisinnius apprenticed as an ancho-
rite near Jericho, before returning to his native Cappadocia, where he
founded his own community of both male and female ascetics.122
Some sources openly admit to the presence of former criminals in monas-
tic communities. Moses was a bandit before joining the semi-eremitic com-
munity at Scetis, and is said to have converted others who attempted to rob
him.123 The Ladder of Climacus describes how a thief is allowed to become a
member of the community after acknowledging his fault before all.124 Indeed,
by the sixth century, the monastery as a site of reform for criminals had been
institutionalized: they were used as spaces of confinement and penance, espe-
cially clerics who had broken ecclesiastic law, but also for civil crimes, includ-
ing those committed by lay people. The term of penance varied, but some
sentences were for life.125
Yet monasteries also sought to avoid harboring fugitive criminals.
Pachomian Precept 49 stipulates that prospective monks should be scruti-
nized, “lest perhaps he has done something wrong, and, disturbed by fear,
has fled at once, or lest he be under some other authority. . .”126 Similarly, the
abbot of Tawatha explains to Dorotheus why he hesitates to accept the young
soldier Dositheus: “I fear lest he belongs to one of these great men, and either
stole or did something else, and wants to flee. . .”127 The implied concern is
that the imperial government, or other powerful individuals, will remove the
disciple from the community in pursuit of justice.
Low-status postulants of all groups faced additional discrimination
regarding their motives for becoming monks. For example, there was
suspicion surrounding those who claimed abject poverty:  in the Rule
of the Master, they must sign a special “oath of perseverance” swear-
ing, with the witness of the community, that they have no property
at all, and renouncing title to anything they make in the monastery.128
Nilus of Ancyra, a cultivated monastic author, reveals additional
biases:129

122
Pall., HL 69.
123
Pall., HL 19.
124
Jo. Clim., Scal. 4:11. Iustn., Nov. 5:2 (Schöll: 29–30), cited above, only discusses slaves who have
committed a theft, and can therefore be restored to their masters with sufficient proof; it says noth-
ing regarding criminals more generally.
125
Hillner 2015.
126
Pach., P 49 (Boon: 25).
127
V. Dos. 2 (SC 92: 124). Cf. John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 278), which associ-
ates them with fugitive slaves and husbands abandoning their families.
128
RM 87, 90 (SC 106).
129
Nil., De mon. ex. 9 (PG 79: 729).
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 61
And these [monks], neither having started [their profession] out of piety,
neither knowing what the profit of tranquility is, have perhaps been pushed
into the ascetic life without reflection by some necessity, and think this
act [becoming a monk] to be a pretext for trafficking in the acquisition of
necessities.
Such individuals, he claims, have a “Pharisaic” interest in the monastic
habit; they soon abandon the monastery to be parasites at wealthy homes,
thus fulfilling their desire for luxury. More generally, Nilus accuses them
of joining the monastery due to necessity: lacking food and clothing, they
seek care for their bodies, not their souls.
In summary, disciples of all status backgrounds might be subject to the
suspicion that they had not joined the monastery in pursuit of the care and
salvation of their souls, but for some material comfort; or that they would
be subject to strong pressures to leave the community. According to John
of Ephesus, prospective monks were asked, “Has any worldly cause turned
your thoughts to this purpose?”130 Was this postulant a poor laborer who
joined for clothing and food, and was prone to theft? Perhaps he was a run-
away slave, with an owner in pursuit. Was that postulant the son of local
nobility fleeing his family and civic responsibilities? Perhaps his wealthy
upbringing would make the rigors of asceticism and labor unbearable.
This dilemma in discerning the motivation and outlook of prospective
monks was also reflected in concerns about whether disciples had exer-
cised their free will in joining the monastery. Thus, Theodore urges in
his Third Instruction, “And let us truly follow him, according to what we
vowed (homologei) to him, willingly, and without constraint.”131 Philoxenus
of Mabbug makes a similar distinction between free choice and constraint
in discipleship; he defines constraint as motivation arising from servitude,
debt, an unhappy marital situation, or even parental pressure.132 It was also
important to establish that disciples had joined voluntarily, in the event
that they later left the monastery, for example because of family pressures,
and demanded that their property be returned.133
Not everyone shared this concern for compulsion as an initial moti-
vation. Cassian relates how the monk Moses flees to a monastery after
committing murder, yet “he was so carried away by the compulsion of
his conversion that, having changed it into a voluntary one through the

130
John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 279).
131
Theo. Instr. 3:24 (CSCO 159: 51).
132
Philoxenus, Homily 3:70. Escolan notes that this statement echoes Libanius’ complaint that monks
are laborers who have abandoned their duties (Escolan 1999, 154).
133
See the discussion of property renunciation in Chapter 2, especially the writings of Besa.
62 Evaluating Postulants
visible virtue of his soul he attained the highest summits of perfection.”134
These remarks belong to Cassian’s three-fold typology of vocation, which
explores different motives for assuming the ascetic life. In the prologue to
the Long Rules, Basil offers his own three categories of motivations for fol-
lowing the commandments, all of which he associates with “inescapable
necessity:”135 fear of punishment, hope of reward, or filial love. Basil no
doubt links these to compulsion because they all involve divine prompting
to adopt a life of asceticism. In the following section, we shift from exam-
ining motivation in terms of social benefits and pressures, which vary by
gender and status, to the more universal notion of vocation.

II. Typologies of Vocation/Commitment Narratives

Cassian’s typology of vocations, though abstract, is intensely personal. He
argues that identifying oneself with one of the three classes encourages
the monk to make further progress in virtue: “when we recognize that we
are identifiably at the first stage of our vocation to the service of God, we
are careful that we act in accordance with the sublimity of our way of life,
for it is of no value to have begun well if we do not exhibit an end similar
to the beginning.”136 Indeed, there are a number of extant “commitment
narratives,” short testimonies regarding an individual’s motivations and
circumstances for adopting the ascetic life, which correspond clearly to
Cassian’s three categories, and the slightly different, but reconcilable, cat-
egories of Antony.
Antony and Cassian’s typologies of ascetic motivation draw on
Hellenistic philosophy, as represented by Seneca, who identifies three
classes of student:137 those who are self-driven in their pursuit of truth;
those who at first need encouragement from a teacher, who leads them
to success; and finally, those who must be “forced” into pursuing virtue.
Cassian’s enumeration closely echoes Seneca’s: “So that these three types
of vocations might be unfolded in their special distinction, the first is
from God, the second is through a human, the third is from necessity.”138
For his part, Antony describes three types of disciples: those who respond
immediately to the call of the Spirit; those who are motivated by the fear
of punishment and the desire for reward; and the hard-hearted, whom

134
Cassian, Coll. 3:5 (CSEL 13: 72).
135
Basil, LR prol. (PG 31: 896).
136
Cassian, Coll. 3:3 (CSEL 13: 69).
137
Seneca, Ep. 52.
138
Cassian, Coll. 3:4 (CSEL 13: 69–70).
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 63
God spurs through chastisement.139 The overlap is self-evident, except for
the second category, where Antony’s “fear of punishment and the desire
for reward” corresponds with a standard theme of ascetic protreptic, the
goal of salvation, which teachers (the focus of Seneca and Cassian) use to
recruit students.
As an example of the first group, Cassian points to holy men such as
Abraham or Antony, who respond instantly to God’s call, either directly
or through Scripture.140 The vocations of Pachomius and Theodore as
recorded in the biographical tradition clearly fit this category. Although
Pachomius is raised a pagan, he behaves virtuously in his youth, and is
eventually introduced to charity-providing Christians while a conscript
in Constantine’s army. After he is released, he journeys to a remote vil-
lage, Sheneset, practicing asceticism in an abandoned temple; there “the
Spirit of God moved him, ‘Struggle and remain here’.”141 Pachomius thus
remains there after baptism, ministering to the villagers.142 At the age of
twelve, Theodore adopts a regime of prayer and fasting in response to a
piercing inner voice: “If you give yourself up to those dishes and wines,
you will not see God’s everlasting life.”143 Although already in the middle
of a fast, he immediately begins an ascetic regimen.
Cassian explains that disciples in the second group might be encouraged
by the example of a saint, or desire salvation after hearing their admoni-
tions. Theodore joined a local monastery, where he heard the teachings of
Pachomius from Apa Pecosh, a traveling monk from the Koinonia, and
“his heart kindled as if with fire.” He surreptitiously follows Pecosh on his
return trip, and Pachomius soon admits him to the community.144 Thus,
Theodore resolves to join the Koinonia following his strong emotional
response to Pachomius’s instruction, which moves him despite the physical

139
Trans. Rubenson 1991, 197–198.
140
See, e.g., V. Ant. 2. In contrast, Seneca assumed an internal motivation rather than a divine com-
mand for this class of disciple.
141
V. Pach. SBo 8 (CSCO 89: 6). The childhood of Pachomius through his conscription is described
in V. Pach. SBo 3–7/V. Pach. G1 2–5.
142
In the Great Coptic Life, Pachomius has an image of heavenly dew drop into his hand, turn into a
honeycomb, and spread over the earth (V. Pach. SBo 8); in the First Greek Life, this is the first vision
of his vocation (V. Pach. G1 5).
143
The two major sources for this anecdote offer slightly different chronologies. According to the
Great Coptic Life, Theodore receives this vision at the age of fourteen and then joins a monastery
the next day: V. Pach. SBo 31 (CSCO 89: 33–35); while in the First Greek Life, he receives this vision
at the age of twelve and then lives an ascetic life for two years before joining the ascetic community
at Latopolis at the age of fourteen: V. Pach. G1 33 (Halkin: 20–21).
144
The story is found in V. Pach. SBo 30 (CSCO 89:  32–33). The First Greek Life lacks the story
of Theodore’s surreptitious journey to Pachomius’ monastery; instead, Theodore simply ‘was
brought’: V. Pach. G1 35 (Halkin: 21–22).
64 Evaluating Postulants
absence of the teacher. Similarly, in response to a brief exhortation from
her brother Pachomius, Mary weeps, and, “touched by compassion she
inclines her heart toward salvation.”145 And the monk Theonas describes
how after listening to a protreptic address from Abba John, “he burned
with an insatiable desire for the perfection of the Gospel,” and soon leaves
his wife to become a monk.146
The third group requires a more forceful divine intervention, which
Antony suggests is the result of moral intransigence.147 Cassian offers Paul,
alongside Moses, as a positive example of such motivation through com-
pulsion: “And what was the disadvantage for Paul that, blinded suddenly
[Acts 9], he seemed drawn, as if unwilling, to the path of salvation, who
afterwards followed the Lord with complete fervor of soul, consummat-
ing a beginning through necessity with a voluntary devotion. . .”148 Many
commitment narratives make the same appeal to divine intervention to
justify a sudden or contested commitment to the ascetic life. The virgin
Susannah, who is addressed in Ps.-Ambrose’s De lapsu virginis, is said to
have overcome her father’s initial resistance by relating “the terrible reve-
lations that had been granted to you.”149 Similarly, an elite young woman
from Tripoli, about to be married, received a vision of Saint Leontius and
the Virgin while in the basilica, and immediately took up a life of strict
asceticism.150 And the young military officer Dositheus, who had previ-
ously shown no interest in Christianity, resolves to join the monastery of
Tawatha when he has a vision of post-mortem punishment in the Church
of Gethsemane.151
These commitment narratives suggest that personal reflection and expe-
rience, including attention to the heart, was an important factor in this
decision, at least for some. Indeed, there is evidence that monastic recruit-
ers instructed potential monks to attend to their thoughts, encouraging
a sense of vocation. A letter by Nilus of Ancyra to Constantine the comes

145
V. Pach. G8 32 (Halkin 1982: 22).
146
Cassian, Coll. 21:8 (CSEL 13: 580).
147
Cassian’s further explanation confirms this: ‘When. . .temptations suddenly accost us, either threat-
ening us with danger of death, or striking us with the loss and confiscation of our goods, or afflict
us with the death of loved one, we are compelled to hasten to God, even unwilling. . .’ (Cassian,
Coll. 3:4, CSEL 13: 71).
148
Cassian, Coll. 3:5 (CSEL 13: 72).
149
Ps.-Ambr., Laps. virg. 18 (Gamber:  28). Modern scholarship attributes the text to Niceta of
Remesiana; see Gamber 18–22.
150
The story is found in a Coptic version of a sermon about St. Leontius delivered by Severus of
Antioch (Garitte 1966, 351).
151
V. Dos. 3 (SC 92: 126).
 Discerning Motivation I: Status and Vocation 65
thus requests that he compare the mental effects of his visits to ecclesiastic
and secular events:152
If you really desire good direction for your soul, hasten to the Catholic
Church, run to the ascetic dwellings of the monks, and you will truly find
a great deal of discussion about good things, and the best therapy for the
pangs of your heart. Then examine yourself later: “Who is it who leaves the
church, and the monasteries, and who is it exiting the theater, and the hip-
podrome?” After comparing the days, you will not need to be admonished
by another.
According to Nilus, with a little practice in self-examination, Constantine
will recognize that only the monastery provides “therapy for the pangs of
your heart.” The implication is that this is all the motivation he needs for
becoming a monk.
Commitment narratives do not reflect the sort of “conversion expe-
rience” proposed by William James, who emphasized the resolution of
doubt and emotional anxiety; on the contrary, they mark the beginning of
a long period of heart-work.153 While invariably formulaic, commitment
narratives offered a more individualistic presentation of one’s reasons for
entering a monastery, alongside background and personal history, for the
interview process. For example, Pachomius admits a postulant after he
tells him how he resisted joining for a while, before God “convinced”
him.154
This description of personal resistance and divine encouragement cor-
responds to a typology on the “three classes of humans,” found in a prayer
of Pachomius on their behalf. For those who have begun to act according
to God’s will, he asks that they continue to do so; for those who have
been held back from doing good by worldly concerns, he asks that they
be freed from vain cares, except for bodily necessities, and thus gain salva-
tion and avoid punishment; and finally, he prays that heretics and pagans
might come to perceive the benefits offered by God.155 Like the typologies
of Antony and Cassian, the Pachomian version emphasizes divine inter-
vention in personal lives, but also implies that individual choice and effort
is necessary to make progress towards God.
Other Pachomian references to vocation emphasize both free will and
constraint. Thus, Theodore refers to the “perfect free choice of the vocation

152
Nil. Ep. 2:290 (PG 79: 344).
153
James 1902, 166–216.
154
V. Pach. SBo 115.
155
V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99–100: 168–169); the parallel passage in V. Pach. SBo 101 lacks the description
of the third class.
66 Evaluating Postulants
of the holy Koinonia,”156 yet also identifies this calling as an urging from
Christ or the Spirit.157 Horsiesius reminds the monks of the Koinonia, “we
are free,” because they no longer need to acquire their own food and cloth-
ing, but elsewhere in his Testament urges strict obedience.158 In this sense,
the choice to seek admission to a monastery involved a double movement
of freedom and constraint:  Horsiesius in the same treatise describes the
monastic life as both a “call to freedom”159 and “free servitude.”160

156
Theo., Instr. 3:41 (CSCO 159: 58).
157
Theodore also refers to ‘vocation’ (tōhm) at Instr. 3:27 (CSCO 159: 52) and 3:43 (CSCO 159: 59).
158
Hors., Test. 21 (Boon: 123). Cf. RM 7:53–56.
159
Hors., Test. 47: ‘We have been called to freedom’ (Boon: 140). Cf. Hors., Test. 46.
160
Hors., Test. 19 (Boon: 120).
 Ch apter 2

Discerning Motivation II
Trials of Commitment

“Now I want you to tell me why crowds of people come to you to

become monks, and you turn away the majority, and do not accept
them, to make them monks. What cause do you have not to receive
these people in this way, saying ‘There is no repentance for them?’
And why do you also say about them, ‘They have not come with their
whole hearts to become monks’?” V. Pach. SBo 107.1
“Let us understand this:  when the Lord tested (dokimaze) us with
respect to the free choice (prohairesis) of childhood, we did not cease
caring for what is his (for we are children), so let us not grumble in
our hearts while being obedient” Theo., Instr. 3:13.2
We have seen that monks had diverse motivations other than salvation for
joining a monastery. Some of these, endorsed by protreptic, were based on
considerations of personal comfort and the prestige of the monastic life.
Communal monasteries, in particular, provided the benefit of relatively
secure access to food, clothing, health and elder care, and burial. If one or
more of these reasons constituted the primary motivation for joining the
cenobium, this might cause a “free-rider” problem in which the disciple
sought to minimize physical labor,3 refused to be obedient and partici-
pate in the care of souls, or committed serious infractions, even corrupting
other monks. An assessment of the background, character, and motivation
of potential disciples was therefore an important challenge for monastic
leaders and the community as a whole.
Ultimate responsibility for the scrutiny of prospective monks seems to
have been reserved primarily for Pachomius himself, or a senior disciple
such as Theodore.4 In the previous chapter, we explored the assertion that

1
CSCO 89: 143–144.
2
CSCO 159: 46.
3
Hors., Reg. 18 (CSCO 159: 87).
4
Theodore was placed in charge of accepting monks: V. Pach. SBo 78 (CSCO 89: 83–84).

67
68 Evaluating Postulants
all those who wished to become monks in the Koinonia were accepted.
But there is a conflicting tradition, which instead emphasizes Pachomius’s
identification and rejection of habitual sinners: in one passage from the
Great Coptic Life, he claims to have rejected one hundred applicants in a
single year, at a time when the Koinonia numbered only 360.5 This same
episode describes at length Pachomius’s discernment in evaluating postu-
lants. When three friends from Alexandria request to enter the Koinonia,
Pachomius rebukes their leader for not revealing the sinful past of his com-
panion, and then offers a lengthy apology for his frequent rejection of
those who wish to become monks.
Pachomius argues that, while repentance is possible for all through free
choice, hardened sinners must be reformed through the sustained practice
of strict asceticism, combined with close supervision. He has time to care
for only a few such individuals, so as not to overlook the rest of his flock;
the rest he advises to become anchorites.6 Moreover, former sinners are
dangerous for other monks, especially if the community learns of their
previous indiscretions:7
For I  tell you that if I  revealed their deeds to the siblings, so that they
would pray for them before the Lord, not only would they not pray for
them, but they would despise them, mock them, and refuse to eat and drink
with them. Therefore we have not accepted them, lest one of the siblings
fall through their evil actions, lest his heart be hardened by this, and he fall
into the snares of the devil.
In other words, admitting sinners risks producing a “net loss” for the flock.8
In the same anecdote, Pachomius does accept the sinful Alexandrian, lest
the two companions also become discouraged and no longer seek entry
into the monastery, and he bears responsibility for all three souls. But after
nine years of impressive asceticism, the Alexandrian assents to a nega-
tive thought, leading the clairvoyant Pachomius to expel him from the
congregation.9
5
V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 141). In another passage, he expels fifty monks after learning “that fleshly
thought was in them:” V. Pach. SBo 24 (CSCO 89: 23).
6
Compare to Basil of Caesarea, who is also concerned that habitual sinners will not be truly commit-
ted to the monastic life, but trusts that they will be reformed through “the fear of God” (LR 10:2, PG
31: 945). For more on this topic, see Chapter 4.
7
V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 143–144).
8
Shenoute similarly presented his disciplinary problems as a result of his own acceptance of sinners
to the monastery: “This is how I receive according to my merit; this is how these afflictions are upon
me. Because I endure this sort of man and this sort of woman among us, and because I received them
into these congregations” (Canons 8, Young 1993: 32–33).
9
For more on assent to thoughts and Pachomius’s clairvoyance, see the Introduction to Part II and
Chapter 5, respectively.
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 69
Pachomius is thus said to rely heavily on discernment in evaluating
potential monks; in contrast, we have seen how Augustine argued that
knowledge of past sins, character, and future temptations was not available
to monastic leaders.10 Despite (or perhaps because of ) this uncertainty,
Augustine seems to have maintained a relatively informal protocol for
admitting new members: he refers only to an oath (professio), about which
no details are known. On the other hand, numerous entrance procedures
were developed in the Koinonia and other cenobitic communities in order
to assess the commitment of postulants. Despite frequent assertions of his
discernment, Pachomius is said to have “tested” his first three disciples to
ensure that their intentions were indeed sincere.11
Later, in his Third Instruction, Theodore suggests that the Lord
“tests” new monks to ensure that they are joining because of their own
“free choice,” and are thus properly motivated. He seems to refer to an
extensive period of labor, suggesting that it demonstrated their willing
obedience  – which they must continue to show. Other scattered evi-
dence from the Koinonia reveals various tests of character and obedi-
ence, including the preliminary interview, false rejection, hazing, property
renunciation, oath, investiture, and tonsure.12 In this chapter, I examine
this elaborate and diverse set of initiation rituals, which varied significantly
across time and place. Although my basic framework is Pachomian, I draw
upon a number of additional sources for Late Antique cenobitism, includ-
ing the closely related Canons of Shenoute (especially volume 9), Basil,
Cassian’s Institutes,13 the Rule of the Master, the Lives of the Eastern Saints,
and Justinian’s Novella 5.
Monastic entrance procedures were costly initiation rituals that required
a substantial loss of wealth, as well as social capital, given the emphasis
on absolute obedience. Recently scholars have argued that such costly
rituals are an adaptive strategy for signaling commitment to a group,
thus enabling social cohesion, an advantage in inter-group competition.14
Despite my skepticism regarding evolutionary theories of religion, I argue
that the numerous trials and rituals for prospective monks were an institu-
tional strategy for assessing their commitment. These procedures generally

10
See the Introduction to Part One.
11
V. Pach. SBo 23 (CSCO 89: 22).
12
Entrance procedures at the White Monastery federation constituted “a solemn commitment to
world replacement, to resocialization as a monk;” see Layton 2007, 59–60.
13
Cassian claims to be drawing on both the “rules of the Egyptians” (presumably the semi-anchoritic
communities of Lower Egypt outside Alexandria) and the monks of Tabenna in the Thebaid, i.e. the
Pachomians: Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:1 (SC 109: 122).
14
Sosis and Alcorta 2003, 267.
70 Evaluating Postulants
involved several short, intense activities that occurred over a lengthy period
of transition; this combination provided the opportunity to carefully mon-
itor emotional reactions to the requirements of humility and obedience.15

I. Preliminary Entrance Procedures

The most extensive statement of entrance procedures is found in the
Pachomian Precept 49, according to Jerome’s Latin translation, which is
worth quoting in full:16
If someone has entered the gatehouse of the monastery, wanting to renounce
the world and to be added to the number of the brothers, he will not have
freedom of entry, but first he will be announced to the father of the monas-
tery, and he will remain for a few days outside, in front of the door, and he
will be taught the Lord’s Prayer, and as many of the psalms as he is able to
learn, and he will diligently prove himself, lest perhaps he has done some-
thing wrong, and, disturbed by fear, has fled at once, or lest he be under
some other authority, and whether he is able to renounce his parents and to
disregard his own property. If he seems acceptable with respect to all this,
then he will also be taught the remaining rules of the monastery: which
things he ought to do, and whom he ought to serve, whether he is in the
assembly of all the brothers or in his own house, or in the refectory; so that,
instructed in every good work, he will be joined to the brothers.
Thus, prospective monks begin outside the monastery itself: they are first
made to stand in front of the door for a few days, while receiving basic
instruction in the Lord’s Prayer and Psalms, suggesting the centrality of
prayer for all disciples.17 After this initial test of commitment, they are gen-
erally moved to the gatehouse, where they are interviewed in an attempt
to discern their motivation, character, and social status; their liminal state
during this period is represented by this position at the community’s
boundary.
Theodore’s Third Instruction provides further details about this stay at
the gatehouse, specifically with regard to family relations.18 He stipulates
that if a monk’s brother is seeking to become a member of the commu-
nity, he can only visit this relative once per week over the period of a
month. During this time, the postulant is taught “the laws of eternal life,”

15
Recent work on the relationship between cognitive psychology and costly signaling suggests that
rituals involving emotional signaling are especially difficult for participants to fake: Bulbulia 2014.
16
Pach., P 49 (Boon: 25–26).
17
More details on scriptural instruction are given in Pach., P 139 (Boon: 49–50): see Chapter 3.
18
Theo., Instr. 3:16 (CSCO 159: 47).
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 71
including the need to renounce both siblings and parents. Theodore pro-
poses a specific test for evaluating commitment: if the postulant’s father
(presumably a non-monk) visits him while at the gatehouse, he must
decline to meet with him, either through a representative or in person,
declaring that he has renounced fleshly relatives.19 In the Pachomian bio-
graphical tradition, Theodore himself refuses to meet with his mother and
brother, even though Pachomius allows it.20
According to Precept 49, the postulant is given basic instruction in the
“rules of the monastery,” including responsibilities and the need for obedi-
ence (whether by the gatekeeper or monastic leader is not specified). At
this point the process moves inside from the monastery’s periphery to its
assembly:
Then they will take off his worldly clothes and dress him in the habit of
the monk. And he will be assigned to the gatekeeper, so that at the time of
prayer he might lead him into the view of all the brothers; and he will sit
in the place where has been assigned. And those who have been assigned
will receive the vestments that he had taken with him, those who have been
ordained to this thing will accept them, and they will bring them into the
repository, and they will be in the power of the leader (princeps) of the
monastery.21
Entry into the monastery is preceded by a symbolic removal of “worldly”
clothing and investiture in the habit.22 The old vestments are placed under
the authority of the leader and no longer belong to the novice. Indeed, the
interview had sought to determine “whether he is free to renounce his par-
ents and scorn his own property,” suggesting that property renunciation
was a key condition of entry.
While the description in Precept 49 is relatively expansive, and enjoyed
broad influence thanks to translations into both Greek and Latin, it has
certain ambiguities and does not mention practices that are widely attested
elsewhere. A consideration of all the evidence, Pachomian and otherwise,
suggests a number of possible stages for monastic initiation. There was
an initial probationary period during which character and motivation
were scrutinized, and which might involve an initial rejection, interviews,
hazing activities to test humility and obedience, and basic instruction in

19
Theo., Instr. 3:17 (CSCO 159: 48).
20
V. Pach. SBo 37 (CSCO 89: 39–40); cf. V. Pach. G1 37 (Halkin: 22–23).
21
Pach., P 49 (Boon: 26).
22
Rule 472 from the White Monastery specifies that those who join (er-monachos) cannot bring their
own clothes with them (Layton 2014: 294).
72 Evaluating Postulants
scripture or the monastic discipline. The postulant might spend some of
this time apart from the community, at the gatehouse, undergoing train-
ing. If these stages were completed successfully, they were followed by an
oath, renunciation of property, and investiture/tonsure.
Nor does Precept 49 specify the length of time for initiation, which
seems to have varied greatly across Late Antique monastic communities.23
Other evidence suggests that the process proceeded quickly, over one or
several days. Thus, in a description of Pachomius’s organization of his
first community, the gatekeepers “retain with themselves those about to
become monks, exhorting them on topics pertaining to salvation, until
[Pachomius] invests them with the habit.”24 Ammon is similarly met at
the gate by Theodore, who, “having said what was required, made me
change my clothes and led me into the monastery.”25 On the other hand,
a short instruction by Theodore associates “professing (epangeillamenos)
monastic life” with baptism, suggesting that the wait could be longer for
postulants who were also catechumens.26 According to the Pachomian
“rule of the angel” described by Palladius, there was a three-year novi-
tiate,27 but this is not supported in other sources that predate Justinian’s
Novella 5, which decreed the same lengthy probationary period endured
before receiving monastic vestment and tonsure.28 The procedure at the
White Monastery suggests a rapid integration into community life, like
the Pachomian sources, following an initial interview at the gatehouse;
however, the extant canons mention an oath, saying nothing about inves-
titure in the habit.29
In some communities, investiture in the monastic schema occurred in
the middle of the probationary period: according to Cassian, once monks

23
There was no consistent terminology for postulants or novices:  the Pachomian and Shenoutean
material usually refers to those who seek to become monks (er-monachos); more rarely, a Coptic
calque on neophyte is used (tōji emberi), probably taken from 1 Tim. 3:6, which also denotes “newly
baptized” (Lampe, s.v. neophytos). A single instance of the term remenberre, “new persons,” “who were
invited through the Lord,” may refer to postulants (Theo., Instr. 3:27, CSCO 159: 52); cf. novellus
in the Rule of the Master, below, note 33. Cassian speaks of “those who will renounce the world”
and “juniors” (iuniores) (Inst. coen. 4:1 and 4:8, SC 109: 118, 130). The Pachomian Precepts contain
frequent references to ranked seating in the monastic assembly, which was probably based primarily
on seniority.
24
V. Pach. G1 24 (Halkin: 18).
25
Ep. Am. 2 (Goehring: 125). See discussion in Goehring 1986, 193.
26
V. Pach. G1 140 (Halkin: 88).
27
HL 32 (Butler).
28
Justn. Novell. 5:2 (Schöll: 31). De Vogüé 1977 argues for an increase in regulations for joining mon-
asteries in the sixth century.
29
On entrance procedures and the experience of new monks, see Layton 2014, 78–80; the relevant
canons are discussed below.
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 73
were invested in the habit, they spent a year of service at the gatehouse,
in order to learn humility.30 A similar practice is found in the Rule of the
Master: after making an initial commitment at the gatehouse, they remain
there for two months, while participating in the daily activities of the
monastery; they then renounce their property, and are assigned to a dean
and live in the community, but are subjected to trials of obedience for a
year.31 John of Ephesus describes a thirty-day waiting period at the door,
followed by three months of hard labor, and then a full three years of pen-
ance, tonsured yet wearing a straw garment, before finally receiving the
monastic schema.32 In the following section, I explore various aspects of
what Peter Brown has described as “a long drawn-out, solemn ritual of
dissociation,”33 with a focus on how the various initiation protocols were
intended to assess the postulant’s commitment.

Rejection/Scrutiny
According to the Pachomian Precept 49, the postulant must remain at the
door of the monastery for several days, a practice that is widely attested,
often with an explicit initial rejection. Cassian reported that prospective
monks in Egypt were forced to wait for at least ten days outside, where
they were insulted, in order to test their humility and ability to complete
further trials of obedience.34 This report may be based on the practices
of monasteries around Alexandria: in the Life of Theodora of Alexandria,
Theodora arrives at the Oktokaidekaton dressed as a man; the superior at
first denies her entry, making her wait outside all night in order to test her
commitment, which she then demonstrates by accepting the risk of attack
from dangerous animals. In the morning, Theodora is admitted and given
an interview.35

30
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:7 (SC 109: 130).
31
RM 87–88 (SC 106). The two-month probationary period before renouncing property in writing
recalls White Monastery Rule 243, which states that a written transfer of possessions must be made
one, two, or three months after entry; both the Rule of the Master and Rule 243 also require an initial
oral commitment to property renunciation.
32
John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 279–282).
33
Brown 1989, 131. Brown contrasts this to the “histrionic feats of self-mortification” associated espe-
cially with Syrian holy men.
34
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:3 (SC 109: 124–126). Although this practice is not attested for the White
Monastery, prospective monks were at first separated from the community: a rule prohibits disciples
from visiting them until supervisors appointed for the purpose have examined the matter: Rule 538
(Layton 2014: 320).
35
V. Theodorae (Wessely:  27–28). Although there is no explicit evidence for this practice in the
extant Pachomian sources, his successor Theodore may refer to a similar custom in one of his
74 Evaluating Postulants
Similar practices were ascribed to Antony himself in the popular Lausiac
History of Palladius. When Paul the Simple seeks out the famous anchorite
because he would like to become his disciple, he is rebuffed several times.
Antony is concerned that his regimen is too austere for a novice aged sixty
years, so Paul stubbornly remains outside his cell for four days, until he is
finally accepted as a disciple.36 Although there is no evidence for an initial
rejection in the writings of Basil, it is also found in later Latin sources,
perhaps influenced by Cassian. The Rule of the Master was deeply skeptical
about the sincerity of applicants, at least those unknown to the commu-
nity, and suggests that they at first be turned back, though “only in word,
not in deed;”37 and the young Fulgentius is initially rejected from Faustus’s
monastic community in North Africa.38
At some point the postulant is transferred into the gatehouse, where
more extensive interviews occur. According to Precept 49, the goal is to
determine whether postulants are criminals or runaway slaves and to assess
their ability to renounce family and possessions; no concerns about physi-
cal fitness or capacity for undertaking ascetic renunciations are raised, in
contrast to Antony.39 John of Ephesus describes interrogations regarding
family, property, and even how long the postulant has desired to become
a monk; afterwards he is made to stand outside the gatehouse for thirty
days, reflecting on his motivation and level of commitment: “Beware lest
your thought urge you to return for any reason, for the sake of kindred, or
for the sake of wife, or for the sake of any property. Sit here, and try your
thoughts for thirty days. . .”40
The judgement of monastic leaders seems to have played a major role in
admission. Thus Pachomius is said to have personally identified promis-
ing candidates41 and recognized the sinful backgrounds of others, despite
their efforts to hide them.42 Similarly, the head of the White Monastery
must “scrutinize” all postulants at the gatehouse, presumably a reference to
the initial interview: “As for all people at any time who are coming to be

instructions:  “. . . When the Lord tested us with respect to the free choice (prohairesis) of child-
hood. . .” (Theo., Instr. 3:13, CSCO 159: 46).
36
HL 22. Cf. HM 24:2 (Festugière: 132), in which Paul stands outside Antony’s cave for seven days.
37
RM 90:1 (SC 106: 378): “When some novice (novellus) flees from the world to a monastery, in order
to serve God, and indicates that he wants to be converted, he should not be believed so easily.”
38
V. Fulg. 3.
39
Pach., P 49 (Boon: 25–26). See Rousseau 1985, 70.
40
John of Ephesus, Lives of Eastern Saints 20, trans. Wright (PO 17: 280).
41
V. Pach. SBo 23 (CSCO 89: 22–23).
42
V. Pach. SBo 107 (CSCO 89: 140–149). Basil expresses a similar concern about accepting people who
were known to have lived sinfully, despite acknowledging the chance to reform them: LR 10.
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 75
a monk (monachos), the father of those who dwell in these congregations
shall first scrutinize (dokimaze) them in the gatehouse of the congregation
in which he happens to be, and also while he is scrutinising them, take
them under his charge and convey to them all things according to our
canons.”43 On the other hand, another canon suggests that the members
of the women’s community conduct their own interview process: “As for
all who are brought in, the father of these abodes (topos) shall at all times
be told what are their characters (gnōmē) and what sort are they who have
been brought in, whether they are adult women or girls; and who they
were left with or in which house.”44 After determining the character of the
new monk, presumably through scrutiny and additional entrance proce-
dures, they must report to the “father of these abodes,” namely the leader
of the federation.
This ability to judge the character of postulants was explicitly identi-
fied as a charism by Theodore, who reports that Petronius, the immediate
successor of Pachomius, was given “discernment (diakrisis) in the Spirit”
to evaluate in every aspect “all those coming to us to become monks (er-
monachos),” so that the leaders of all the monasteries in the Koinonia con-
sulted him before making someone a monk.45 Abraham of Farshut, the
last non-Chalcedonian archimandrite of the Pachomian Koinonia, goes
to the monastery (of Phbow) after his parents die, and asks the superior,
Pshintbahse, to “make him a monk” (aaf emmonachos); the latter perceiving
that “his heart was strong,” “received him into the flock of Christ, and he
served under the immortal king.”46
A description of a successful interview process is found in the sixth-
century Life of Dositheus, a biography of an obedient disciple at the mon-
astery of Tawatha in Gaza. When Dositheus, a young military officer,
decides to convert to Christianity and adopt the monastic life, he is taken
to Tawatha by friends who are familiar with the community there; he him-
self knows none of the monks, and is uninstructed in Christianity. The
abbot asks Dorotheus, who at the time is the trusted head of the infirmary,
to interview Dositheus; he does so, and determines that his intentions
are sincere and that he will make an acceptable monk. Dositheus is then
admitted immediately, with little period of scrutiny, and becomes a model
of obedience.47

43
Rule 410 (Layton 2014: 264–265).
44
Rule 338 (Layton 2014: 232–233, but translating gnōmē as “character” rather than “doctrine”).
45
V. Pach. S6 (CSCO 99–100: 264–265).
46
Goehring 2012: 76–77.
47
V. Dos. 1–2 (SC 92).
76 Evaluating Postulants
For Basil, the initial interview is only the first step in a longer process of
discerning motivation:48
So we should also ask about former life and habits, lest perhaps someone
approach us with a deceptive mind and false spirit. Thus at length it is dis-
cerned whether he easily bears all bodily labor that is assigned and inclines
head-on toward a stricter life. . .
This passage implies that heavy labor is another effective test of commit-
ment, a sentiment that is shared  – and sometimes taken to extremes  –
across other early monastic communities.

Hazing
Although there is no mention of hazing in Pachomian Precept 49, the
practice is widely attested.49 Some postulants were subjected to a series of
extraordinary tasks, usually consisting of hard menial labor, or work with-
out an immediately evident purpose, in order to test their humility and
obedience. According to Palladius, Antony makes Paul weave ninety feet
of palm-leaf mats, unweave them, and then weave them together again.
The disciple obeys without complaint, and then joins Antony in a series of
prayers. Only at this point does he agree to train Paul for several months,
before offering him his own cell.50 The History of the Monks of Egypt thus
explains Antony’s initial conduct towards disciples: “He was accustomed to
commanding things that seemed unreasonable and purposeless, by which
his soul would be tested toward obedience.”51 While this is not a reliable
account of the famous anchorites’s practice, his example would have been
a powerful endorsement to readers.
Basil elaborates on the logic of hazing in his monastic rule:52
But before he is brought into the body of the brotherhood he should have
some significant labors, held in contempt by worldly people, assigned to
him; and it is necessary to observe whether he completes these freely, liber-
ally, and faithfully, and whether he does not consider their shame a heavy
burden, and whether he is found to be enthusiastic and prompt in the work.

48
RBas. 6:4–5 (CSEL 86: 37); cf. LR 10:1 (PG 31: 946). On the relationship between these two texts,
see Silvas 2005, 193, n. 209.
49
See Theo., Instr. 3:13, quoted above in note 31. The Life of Eupraxia, discussed below, takes place in
a female cenobium of Upper Egypt that may have followed the Pachomian model. Eupraxia’s heavy
work load may be a sort of hazing.
50
HL 22 (Butler).
51
HM 31:12 (Schulz-Flügel: 380).
52
RBas. 6:9–11 (CSEL 86: 38).
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 77
He thus suggests that the prompt and dedicated performance of the
“arduous” and “disreputable” is a test of obedience and humility, a test to
be passed before becoming fully integrated into the community.53 Similarly,
the Rule of the Master recommends assigning the monks repugnant tasks
for an entire year,54 as a test of commitment and obedience, while John of
Ephesus suggests doing so for three months.55
Hazing is also presented as a valuable monastic practice in hagi-
ography, the only genre which actually depicts the chores, perhaps
in exaggerated fashion. In a striking scene from the Life of Eupraxia,
soon after the aristocratic girl joins an unnamed women’s monastery
in Upper Egypt, the deaconess orders her to move a number of heavy
stones from the hall to the furnace, and then back; the other sisters, it is
reported, were unable to do so, but Eupraxia was young and strong. She
is assigned to this same task for thirty days, clearly for no other purpose
than to test the humility of the youthful aristocrat.56 Once this humility
has been established, Eupraxia does a number of menial chores for the
benefit of the community, including baking bread and preparing other
kinds of food, cleaning, drawing water, and cutting wood. Similarly, in
the Life of Theodora of Alexandria, the heroine of repentance is given
various strenuous duties to perform upon joining the Oktokaidekaton
monastery: tending the garden, preparing food and bread, and procur-
ing necessary items.

Instruction in Monastic Lifestyle/Rule

In addition to the hazing rituals, prospective monks were also instructed
about the daily life of the community, including its ascetic regimen.
Especially among anchorites, this was usually accompanied by a warn-
ing, implicit or explicit, about its severity, as in the case of Antony and
Paul the Simple. Similarly, when the young Pachomius asks the famous
ascetic Palamon to train him, the latter complains that many applicants
have been unable to follow his ascetic practice, which he then describes

53
While hazing is not attested in the extant White Monastery documents, monks may be forbidden
to perform the same job in the monastery that they had outside it: Rule 465 (Layton: 292–293).
54
RM 90:3, 82 (SC 106: 378, 394).
55
John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 280–281).
56
Concerning young aristocrats, Basil notes in LR 10 (PG 31: 945–948): “But it is above all necessary
for someone of illustrious higher social rank aspiring to humility according to the likeness of our
Lord Jesus Christ, to assign him one of the tasks considered most worthy of reproach by worldly
people, and to observe whether he presents himself to God with all assurance as a worker without
shame (2 Tim. 2:15).”
78 Evaluating Postulants
in great detail, focusing on work, diet, and prayer routines.57 Although
Palamon asks him to test himself first, to see whether he is able to follow
this program, Pachomius assures him that he already has a similar routine,
and convinces the elder ascetic of his zeal.
Pachomius himself instituted a similar procedure in his Koinonia.
According to Precept 49, all prospective monks are taught the discipline of
the monastery and the importance of obedience. In the First Greek Life,
Pachomius reminds the boy Silvanus about how he spoke to him at the
gate, instructing him in the commandments and advising him to “look
at yourself: are you perhaps unable to become a monk.”58 The same policy
was in place at Shenoute’s White Monastery federation: “Each one who
enters these congregations at any time shall be instructed about all these
[Canons]. Whoever does not wish to agree to the way that all monastics
live shall certainly not enter; and if already received, shall be sent away.”59
This instruction was personally delivered by the father of the congrega-
tions, at the same time as the entrance interview/scrutiny.60 Similarly, the
Rule of the Master stipulates that after the importance of renunciation is
explained, and the rule is read in full, the postulants must promise obedi-
ence to it, and the commands of the abbot.61
The Life of Theodora offers a portrait of such instruction in action, and
suggests how it might overlap with the initial interview and hazing. The
superior questions Theodora, who is disguised as a man, about her abil-
ity to withstand the various toils she will experience upon entry into the
community:
Then, brother Theodore, are you able to fast? Are you able to water the
garden in the third hour, and to psalm the sixth and the ninth, and to pray
unceasingly? Are you able to cast your illnesses to the most high? To not
sleep at night on account of the morning prayers; are you able to prepare the
lamps, are you able to leave for the city, and serve the brothers?62
57
V. Pach. SBo 10 (CSCO 89: 31). Similar evidence exists for cenobitic monasticism: Isaiah of Scetis’s
Discourse 5 (SC 150: 69–76) is a compendium of regulations for those considering living with him.
58
V. Pach. G1 104 (Halkin: 68).
59
Rule 440 (Layton 2014: 278–279).
60
Rule 410 (Layton 2014: 264–265): “As for all people at any time who are coming to be a monastic,
the father of those who dwell in these congregations shall first scrutinize them in the gatehouse of
the congregation in which he happens to be, and also while he is scrutinizing them, take them under
his charge and convey to them all things according to our canons;” cf. Layton 2007, 60, note 83.
Another passage in Canons 1 may refer to the instruction of novices, as argued by Emmel 2004, 158:
“You saw him many times, standing, speaking with you in the house of God, giving the first word,
which came out of his mouth into yours, making you think about it as you repeated it after him”
(CSCO 42: 207).
61
RM 90; RM 87 mentions only the promise to follow the rule.
62
V. Theodorae 3 (Wessely: 28).
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 79
She agrees, and is immediately set to work at various tasks, such as tend-
ing the garden and cooking. Such instruction in community discipline was
often accompanied by two other key entry procedures, the renunciation of
property and the oath, which we now consider in turn.

Property Renunciation
Substantial economic resources were necessary for the physical care of
all disciples in a cenobium; these were met by both labor and donations,
whether from lay supporters or those who joined the community.63 Precept
49 hints at the renunciation of personal property in its stipulation that
entrants remove their secular clothes and hand them over to the reposi-
tory, where they will be under the authority of the monastery’s leader.
According to John Cassian, the “monks of Tabenna” (i.e., Pachomians)
do not allow people to join the monastery unless it is first established that
they have completely renounced all their possessions, such that financial
security cannot enable their voluntary departure from the community.
However, they do not allow the monk to donate his possessions to the
monastery, lest he feel superior to the poorer monks, or demand his money
back upon leaving the monastery.64
Precisely these problems are attested for Shenoute’s White Monastery
federation, which required the renunciation of all possessions to the
community.65 This property had to be given to the Diakonia in writing
within three months of the initial oral commitment.66 But the diverse
backgrounds of the monks evidently led to significant differences in the

63
Wipszycka 1996, 194–195; cf. Bagnall 2001, who argues that there was greater acceptance of such
wealth acquisition in cenobitic monasticism than in the semi-eremitic movement attested by the
early layers of the Apophthegmata Patrum.
64
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:3–4 (SC 109: 124–126). However, Horsiesius suggests that some monks of the
Koinonia retained their property: “Let no one, deceived by a foolish idea, or rather, netted in the
snares of the devil, say in his heart, ‘When I die, I will give what I have to my siblings’ ” (Hors., Test.
27, Boon: 127–128).
65
Leipoldt incorrectly argued that monks under Shenoute could dispose of their property in any way
they desired (Leipoldt 1903, 107). See Rule 86: “Whoever comes to us in order to live with us. . .and
shall not renounce all the articles that they possess, whether gold, silver, bronze, hoeite-garments, or
any other article, shall be under a curse” (trans. Layton 2014: 123).
66
Rule 243:  “And any who comes to us to become a monastic, whether male or female shall first
renounce all the things that they possess unto the Diakonia as soon as they are at the gatehouse
of the Lord’s congregations. And one, two, or three months after they enter they shall sign over
every article they have brought, in accordance with the ordinances of our fathers. . .” (trans. Layton
2014: 191; Cf. Layton 2007, 60, n. 85). This confirms Leipoldt’s assertion that monks renounced
their property in writing with a “juristisch gültige Urkunde” (Leipoldt 1903, 106). Although no such
papyrus survives, presumably it took the form of a legal document.
80 Evaluating Postulants
amount of money donated, which in turn caused tension. Shenoute thus
emphasizes that ownership is communal, and those who leave are not
entitled to anything.67 Elsewhere, he warns against citing one’s donations
while demanding (presumably special) care.68 Such passages are unique
evidence for how differing social status could still play a role among dis-
ciples, despite property renunciation, or rather, because of it.
Similar tensions with elite disciples who have offered significant dona-
tions are found in the writings of Besa. In a letter to the female monas-
tic Antinoe, who had apparently threatened to leave the community, he
declares: “Let not the things which we promised to God be accounted to
us from that hour.”69 Debates around property ownership, especially in the
event of a voluntary departure or expulsion from the monastery, motivated
Besa’s short treatise, “Concerning those who have denied their endurance,
having left us.” The opening includes the standard apology that no one has
been forced to join, in this case on account of his or her wealth: “Our holy
fathers, from the day when they gathered together these abodes, did not
send for any person to make him a monk through violence, nor did they
compel any person on account of his possessions; nor have we ourselves
done this.”70
Besa then quotes a monastic rule concerning the status of renounced
property:
The one who is coming to become a monk among us first will renounce
everything which is his, and he writes them over to the fellowship [koino-
nia] of God and the service of the poor. And he will not be able to turn
around and ask for anything, neither he, nor anyone who is counted to him,
according to the way which each one confesses his word.71
After quoting a similar rule which also refers to the Koinonia, he declares
that “those who have denied their endurance, and who struggle with God,
know themselves the law which has been established for us since the day
when they went to become a monk . . . For the laws of the church and
the laws of the monastery are counted as very firm, most of all regarding

67
Rule 472 (Layton 2014: 294–295).
68
Rule 449 (Layton 2014: 284–285). Elsewhere, Shenoute reports the complaint: “I brought so and
so many things when I came, and I gave such and such to this place. . .” (Rule 418, trans Layton
2014: 269).
69
Besa, Frag. 14 (CSCO 157: 40).
70
Besa, Frag. 31 (CSCO 157: 104).
71
Besa, Frag. 31 (CSCO 157: 105). The use of the term koinonia is rare in Besa and might reflect the fact
that these rules ultimately stem from the Pachomian tradition; on the connection of Pachomius’
Koinonia to the White Monastery, see Layton 2014, 40.
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 81
the coenobium.”72 In other words, renunciations are final, and cannot be
claimed by estranged monks, as yet another measure to curb the influence
of those who have brought substantial wealth with them to the monastery.
In some cases, aristocrats founded monasteries on their own property,
directing them as an extended household, and in the process retaining con-
trol of their finances.73 Petronius, who affiliated his household monastery
at Thbew to the Koinonia and became its second leader, is the only known
example from the Pachomian tradition, but there were surely members who
made substantial property donations. And some of the wealthy maintained
control over their property, which may have led to conflict. In Augustine’s
monastic community at Hippo, the priest Januarius, who claimed to have
fully renounced his possessions, revealed (as he neared his death) that he
had in fact retained some money. Although Januarius left it to the church,
the breach in confidence was serious enough that Augustine refused to
accept the bequest, and initiated an audit of all his monks, reporting the
results in Sermon 356. Among several other complicated property scenar-
ios, the priest Leporius, from a prominent family, had financed a local
basilica and hostel, donating the rest of his wealth to a monastery for his
household; he was still personally managing their finances until Augustine
ordered him to stop.
The Rule of the Master also maintains strict rules on the renunciation of
property: at the end of the initial two-month probationary period, monks
must submit a written agreement to donate to the monastery all prop-
erty they have not already disposed of, placing it on the altar.74 Similarly,
Justinian’s near-contemporaneous Novella 5 notes that prospective monks
can distribute their property as they see fit, provided a sufficient amount
is left for their children and spouse.75 If they subsequently leave the mon-
astery for any reason, they cannot take what they have donated, echoing
Besa’s earlier legal claims.76 While such donations may have contributed
72
Besa, Frag. 31 (CSCO 157: 105). This passage closely reflects the language of Rule 243 on property
renunciation, which is done in writing “lest whoever repudiate their endurance among us afflict the
siblings who are going to endure to the end” (Layton 2014, 190–191).
73
Thus Paulinus declares that Sulpicius is among those who “possess in such a way that they are
not possessed by their possessions” (Ep. 24:2; CSEL 29: 203). Similarly, as Clark shows, Paula and
the two Melanias could not be “tamed” by the cenobitic lifestyle: they exhibited substantial per-
sonal (including financial) independence, and exercised control over the communities they founded
(Clark 1981, 255–257).
74
RM 87. Alternatively, postulants can sell all possessions and distribute the proceeds as alms; or
claim total indigence, agreeing to pay a penalty if they have hidden their belongings and leave the
monastery.
75
Justn., Novel. 5:5.
76
Justn., Novel. 5:4, 5:7.
82 Evaluating Postulants
to a monastery’s economic security, their primary goal was rather to dis-
courage monks from leaving the community by making them materially
dependent on it.77

II. The Monastic Oath

Given the financial consequences of becoming a monk, it is not surpris-
ing that the process involved a vow, which enhanced its legal validity.78
Additionally, vows had biblical precedent, and were used in two related
late Roman institutions, the army and the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Within
canon law, monastic vows were considered equivalent to marriage, so that
breaking them involved, in theory, not only separation from the monas-
tery but exclusion from church sacraments.79
Although there are relatively few explicit descriptions of the monastic
vow,80 a number of sources allude to it, and there is substantial precedent
in earlier asceticism.81 In one of his “canonical” letters, Basil emphasizes
the gravity of the vow of virginity, which is only valid for those who can
exercise reason (defined here as sixteen or seventeen), to ensure that young
women are exercising free choice in their decision, as also determined by
a period of examination;82 in the same letter, he refers to a monastic vow
for men, which is also alluded to in the Long Rule: “Anyone who has been
admitted to the brotherhood and then puts aside his vow (homologian),
must surely be regarded as sinning against God, before whom and to
whom he deposited the vow of his promises.”83
Basil of Caesarea’s letter to Theodora, the kanonikē, notes that her vow
will be fulfilled by attending to the Scriptures and the “written rules,” a
theme of major importance in cenobitic vows, along with free will.84 In

77
RM 87 explicitly suggests that those who keep property are more easily tempted to leave the
monastery.
78
For an overview of the oath in the ancient world, including the Bible and the Roman Empire, see
Neumann and Thür 2006.
79
This is argued by Basil in an influential “canonical letter,” Ep. 199.
80
I use “oath” and “vow” interchangeably:  the relevant terminology is quite fluid in Greek (epan-
gelma, omologia), Coptic (erēt, homologia, anaš), and Latin (pactum, professio, propositum); covenant
(diathēkē) is also used frequently in Greek and Coptic Pachomian documents.
81
Discussing early evidence for oaths by virgins from the canons of the Councils at Elvira (306) and
Ancyra (314), Elm 1994, 26–27 notes: “Both sources employ a quasi-legal obligation-proclamation
(epangelia in the Greek East) and contract (pactum in the Latin West). It remains open whether
the proclamation or contract was a simple vow, what kind of public was present, and whether pre-
conditions other than virginity were required.”
82
Basil, Ep. 199.
83
Basil, LR 14 (PG 31: 949).
84
Basil, Ep. 173.
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 83
a roughly contemporary source, Theodore’s Third Instruction, he reminds
the monks that they have taken the “free choice” to be children, while
in the same breath urging them towards obedience.85 Precisely the same
rhetoric of free subordination is found in Pliny’s report that Trajan’s sub-
jects had “freely” renewed their vows (vota) of loyalty.86 Indeed, the oath
itself demonstrates agency, and was also important for soldiers, who, like
monks, were expected to provide willing obedience.
The roughly contemporaneous military oath paraphrased by Vegetius
offers a useful point of comparison to the monastic vow, especially given
Pachomius’s military background:  “For the soldiers swear that they will
assiduously accomplish everything which the emperor has commanded;
that they will never desert the army; and that they will not refuse death for
the sake of the Roman state.”87 While there are few direct parallels with the
Pachomian vow, for both monks and soldiers, the vow constituted the vol-
untary acceptance of a total reorientation, resulting in a new, irrevocable
identity, with life-and-death consequences.
Although we do not have the full text of a vow, which almost surely
varied somewhat anyway, several references hint at its content. In his First
Instruction, Pachomius refers to a double promise: “we promised (erēt)
God monasticism (mentmonachos) in love, not only a virginity (parthenia)
of the body, but also a virginity (parthenia) from every sin.”88 In a fragmen-
tary passage of the Third Sahidic Life, an unidentified speaker (probably
Theodore) refers to: “[The covenant] which I made in your presence, say-
ing ‘If I do not guard this covenant, not only may you cast me to eternal
punishment, as befits my evil deeds, but also command an evil spirit to
become master over me and chastise me all the days of my life, and tor-
ment me so that I become worthless in this aeon and the next’.”89 Taken
together, these passages suggest that the Pachomian “covenant” included
references to purity in the context of avoiding sinful behavior, as well as
warnings about the dire consequences of breaking it.
In his Third Instruction, Theodore identifies the vow with a promise to
follow the “law,” presumably the rules of Pachomius: “And just as we all
have sought to dress ourselves in the acts of the habit we wear, of the name
spoken over us, and of the law that we vowed (homologei), in the presence

85
Theo., Instr. 3:13 (CSCO 159: 46).
86
Pliny, Ep. 10:36 (Mynors: 308).
87
Vegetius 2:5 (Reeve: 39).
88
Pach., Instr. 1:51 (CSCO 159: 20).
89
V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99–100: 120). For more on this passage, see the discussion of the conscience in
Chapter 5.
84 Evaluating Postulants
of God and humans, truly to accomplish, we have greatly glorified the
Lord, who has turned our heart towards himself.”90 He associates the vow
with other components of initiation, including investiture, and the con-
ferral of the name, that is, “monk,” presumably by the abbot.91 The phrase
“in the presence of God and humans” further implies that it was taken at
the altar, in the monastic church, in front of an image of the divine throne
room and the assembled community. Yet other evidence suggests that at
least some oaths were made in private, at the gatehouse. For example, in
the First Greek Life, Pachomius reminds the sinful Silvanus that he had
asked him, while they were at the gates, “Do you not know that it is a great
thing to become a monk?” and “. . .You swore (ōmologēsas) before God, ‘I
will become [a monk]’.”92
These allusions to the oath reflect the language in several accounts
of Pachomius’s covenant with God in the biographical tradition. In the
Third Sahidic Life, while wandering in the desert, praying with a “troubled
heart,” he encounters a “man of light,” who instructs him to found a com-
munity and serve its members.93 Subsequently, Pachomius “remembered
the covenant (diathēkē) which he made with God. . .confessing (homologei)
in [His] presence, saying ‘If you help me, and I am released from this
distress which I am in, I will serve the race of humans on account of your
name’.” While Pachomius’s oath reflects his special status as a founder, all
disciples in the Koinonia followed the same procedure of establishing a
covenant by confessing in God’s presence.
Shenoute similarly refers to a covenant (diathēkē) made by the “first
father,” presumably Pcol, with God. This covenant calls for the expul-
sion of sinners from the monastery, and causes Shenoute to fear lest per-
haps angels have already cast the monks from “his [God’s] holy places,”
unbeknownst to the congregation, because they have transgressed the
commandments:94
Just as our first father said, “If those who rule over these places at all times
put up with men of this sort in ignorance, so as not to cast them out, the

90
Theo., Instr. 3:3 (CSCO 160: 41). Later in the same instruction, Theodore warns them that God
will demand an accounting for the “promise” (erēt) they made before him, according to their rank;
Theo., Inst. 3:24 (CSCO 160: 51).
91
As suggested in Hors., Frag. A (CSCO 159: 81), discussed below.
92
V. Pach. G1 104 (Halkin: 68). White Monastery Rule 440 similarly suggests that prospective monks
had to make an oral agreement to follow the commandments before being admitted beyond the
gate (Layton 2014: 278–279).
93
V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99–100: 107). A related account of Pachomius’s covenant (diathēkē) in God’s
presence is found in V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99–100: 4–5).
94
FR-BN 1304 101 (Leipoldt 1903: 195): Acephalous Work A1, described in Emmel 2004a, 2.685–687.
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 85
angel of the covenant, whom God established on the mountain, will lift
them up in his hands and cast them outside the walls of these congrega-
tions.” This is the first sentence of the covenant (diathēkē) that God estab-
lished with our first father.
This suggests a written covenant, or at least an oral tradition, to which
Shenoute makes appeal; its relationship to Pcol’s rules, as well as the dis-
ciples’ covenants mandated in them, is uncertain.
An account of the origins of the smaller men’s community in the White
Monastery federation refers to another covenant (diathēkē), which its
founder Pshoi established not with God, but his first disciples:95
Now it happened that when they amounted to thirty or more brothers, he
gathered them together and had them make an agreement (omologia) with
one another in writing, to be one single bond, whether in food or clothing,
with no differences among them nor any separation in anything that they
do, whether matter of the soul or that of the spirit. And furthermore, they
signed an oath (anaš) to walk in all the canons (kanōn) and commands (tōš)
of the holy man about whom we spoke earlier, Apa Pcol, and those who
followed him; and he caused this agreement to be witnessed. He took it,
stipulating that they keep it as a firm covenant (diathēkē) with the genera-
tions yet to come in the gathering of his congregation (sunagōgē). And in
fact this (covenant) still exists today in the archive (nekhartēs) as a reminder
to the uninformed.
Thus a written agreement to follow Pcol’s rules was kept to commemorate
the community’s foundation and its ideals of equality and obedience. It
may have served as an example for all new monks, or at least those who
entered the smaller community, to offer a written oath stating their com-
mitment to the federation’s canons.
Pshoi’s agreement represents a hybrid of legal and biblical terminol-
ogy, adapting contemporary formula to monastic covenant theology.96
Omologia and its cognates are standard terminology for oaths in Late
Antique papyri, in both Greek and Coptic.97 These are written records

95
The Coptic text in Amélineau  1888, 233–234 is unreliable, but it is the only edition available. The
translation above is from Layton 2014, 18, which is based on his fresh collation of the Naples
Fragment. See Layton 2014, 14 n.  21. For more on Pshoi’s role in the formation of the White
Monastery federation, see Emmel and Layton 2016.
96
Leipoldt 1903, 106 suggests a “juristisch gültige Urkunde;” while there is no documentary evidence
for a written monastic oath as a legal instrument, it may have been intended for the jurisdiction
of local episcopal courts. Cf. Besa’s assertion of the monastery’s claim on the property of departing
monks, discussed above.
97
The primary meanings of the verb omologeō in Christian documents are “to make a vow” and “to
confess” (or “profess”) points of faith (Lampe, s.v. omologeō). The verb omnumi is sometimes also
used for vows, especially in later documents.
86 Evaluating Postulants
of a public, illocutionary act functioning as a guarantee for various con-
tracts. The verb omologei is used in Theban ostraca documenting daily
transactions;98 and in ecclesiastic activity.99 Shenoute’s decision not to
swear on the name of God, but “in his presence,” distinguishes him from
normal ecclesiastic practice, including episcopal courts, in which bishops
oversaw oaths.100 While no documentary evidence for specifically monastic
oaths survives, there are related ostraca concerning obedience to ecclesi-
astical canons and the bishop. Thus, applicants for ordination recorded
their promise to bishop Abraham of Hermonthis in the Thebaid, in the
early seventh century: “Seeing we have requested thy paternity that thou
wouldst ordain us deacons, we are ready to observe the commands (entolē)
and canons (kanones) and to obey those above us and be obedient to (hypo-
tassein) the superiors.”101
Shenoute’s Canons suggest that other “covenant” documents like Pshoi’s
were drafted later in the federation’s history. Soon after becoming leader of
the White Monastery, Shenoute visited the women’s community multiple
times in an effort to establish his authority and normalize relations. In one
letter, he reminds the women, “and this is how we have made a covenant
(diathēkē), all together, through God.”102 He invokes curses and blessings
as the consequences for breaking (or following) the agreement: “Cursed
be whichever person turns back again after this covenant (diathēkē) that
we have made; and blessed be whichever person stands firm.”103 This form
reflects both the Deuteronomistic covenant and the rules of Pcol, who
employed the same biblical model.104 Pshoi, author of the previous agree-
ment, was himself present at these negotiations. As in the case of the
smaller men’s community, it is uncertain whether new members of the
women’s community were required to swear by this new covenant.
Details about the process for joining the larger men’s monastery are
found in the regulations cited by Shenoute in Canons 9, which prob-
ably applied to the entire White Monastery federation. At some point,

98
Crum 1902, passim.
99
Crum 1902, passim. For more on the Christianization of the oath formula, see Seidl 1935, 3.19–25;
Seidel’s list is supplemented by Worp 1982, 199–225.
100
On oaths in the Episcopal courts, see Uhalde 2007, 77–104; Rapp 2005, 250–252. A similar formula
is found in a group of Coptic papyrus from Bala’izah: “swearing by almighty God and the prayers
of NN the bishop” (Kahle 1954, 1.46–7).
101
Crum 1902, Ecclesiastical Document 29; Ecclesiastical Documents 30–45 are similar.
102
Rule 25 (Layton 2014: 100–101). See also the discussion in Krawiec 2002, 53.
103
Krawiec 2002.
104
Emmel 2004b, 159, 164 argues that rules in the form of curses may go back to the rule of the
founder, Pcol.
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 87
prospective monks are required to renounce their property (whether in
writing is not specified), and then to swear an oath in front of the altar,
reflecting the Pachomian custom:  “No person whether male or female
shall enter these congregations at any time to become a monk . . . with-
out renouncing (apotasse) that which they have, and swearing by their
word before the altar, in accordance with the entire ordinance that the
siblings have kept or spoken through a covenant (diathēkē), agreeing orally
(homologei) in the presence of God.”105 It is not specified whether the prop-
erty renunciation was recorded in a written document and incorporated
into the oath ceremony, as in the Rule of the Master, discussed below.
While Shenoute invokes Rule 464 in Canons 9, he is probably citing
it from an earlier rule book going back to Pcol himself.106 But Canons 9
also records in detail the institution of a new oath/covenant by Shenoute
at some point before the volume was collected, prior to his attendance at
the Council of Ephesus with Cyril of Alexandria in 431.107 He does so
at the conclusion of deliberations recorded in three letters to “the elder,”
the superior of the large men’s community, a collection with the incipit
“Now Since This Matter Weighs Upon Your Heart.”108 The elder proposed
the vow as a tactical response to sin within the congregation.109 However,
Shenoute has significant reservations. First, he is skeptical about its effi-
cacy: if people sin even while remembering God, they will certainly do so
despite having taken an earlier vow. Second, echoing other early Christian
criticisms of the oath,110 Shenoute is concerned that the name of God will
be despoiled by sinners: “I am sparing the name of God who is blessed.”
Third, he asserts that, as leaders, they should not try to use the oath as an

105
Rule 464 (trans. Layton 2014: 293); cf. Layton 2007, 60, n. 86. Layton also associates the Rule 440
with this initial vow: “[All] who at [any] time [enter these] congregations shall be instructed about
all these. [. . . the one who] does not desire to comply with the way that all the siblings live shall
certainly not enter them. And if already received, shall be sent back away from them. For the land
is broad” (Layton 2014, 278–279).
106
Layton 2014, 36–38.
107
On Canons 9, see Emmel 2004a, 2.868–870. Previous treatments of the White Monastery vow have
not referred to the dynamics of its introduction in “Now Since This Matter Weighs Upon Your
Heart,” and thus assume that this particular vow was always in effect within the Federation.
108
Discussed in Emmel 2004a, 2.601; the text of the correspondence, consisting of three letters, is in
CSCO 42: 16–20.
109
Shenoute begins the letter by referring to the old man’s proposal: “If this is the way, allow me, and
I will cause the siblings to vow to me, whether male, whether female, to do nothing evil: up to the
one who comes into the monastery new” (CSCO 42: 16).
110
While Shenoute does not offer the usual appeals to James 5:12 and Matthew 5:22–37 (see Kollmann
1996), he does cite the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer “let your name be sanctified” (Matthew 6:9).
For the diversity of opinions regarding oaths among Late Antique Christians, including acceptance
of their frequent use and Chrysostom’s critique of them, see Maxwell 2006, 150.
88 Evaluating Postulants
alternative to disciplining those who have sinned, especially if they are
informed about it; their proper response is to provoke emotional anguish
and repentance within the community.
Despite these concerns, Shenoute eventually acknowledges divine
approval for the vow proposed by the elder, calling it “the command which
God gave to your heart.” The oath is described as a covenant (diathēkē) to
be recited in the “holy place,” that is, the altar of the monastery’s church,
by all those in the monastic federation at that time, and all who will join
it later:111
Therefore, each person will speak thus: “I swear (omologei), in the presence
of God, in his holy place, with the speech that I have spoken as a witness
against me, I will not defile my body in any way; I will not steal; I will not
bear false witness; I will not lie; I will not do anything deceitful secretly. If
I transgress what I have sworn (omologei) to do, I will see the kingdom of
heaven, but I will not enter it, since God, in whose presence I have estab-
lished the covenant (diathēkē), will destroy my soul and my body in fiery
Gehenna because I transgressed the covenant (diathēkē) I established.”
This text reflects Shenoute’s concern about swearing in God’s name: instead,
the disciple affirms that their oath is made “in the presence of God,” imply-
ing a ceremony in the church ceremony, just as the earlier covenant in Rule
464, and Pachomian vows.112 Its establishment in response to disciplinary
concerns reflects the covenant with the women’s monastery referred to in
Canons 2.
One explanation for the late institution of the vow is that Shenoute
made a distinction between two such vows. In his letter to the elder, he
alludes to a vow to follow the commandments, noting that virtuous monks
say: “I have vowed and I have established to follow the commandments
of your righteousness.”113 Shenoute later contrasts this new vow of purity
with promises to follow the commandments:  “Because they established,
not that they would do a deed which God commanded to do, but that
they might become holy in our body, as we guard our heart, while we

111
CSCO 42:20; see the discussion in Krawiec 2002, 20–21; Schroeder 2007, 4; and Moussa 2010,
183–190. An almost identical text is found in Leipoldt 1914, 40, an exhortation to vigilance. Besa
also makes reference to an abbreviated form of the oath, calling it a “covenant” (diathēkē), with
minor variations in order and a shift from first-person singular to plural (Besa, Frag. 1, CSCO
157: 3).
112
The first part of the oath reflects the Pachomian vow of bodily virginity and virginity from sin
(Pach., Instr. 1:51), while the second part, threatening damnation in Gehenna for non-compliance,
recalls a similar invocation of eternal punishment for violating the covenant in the Pachomian
tradition (V. Pach. S3).
113
Shenoute, Canons 9 (CSCO 42: 17).
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 89
speak truth, doing every good deed.”114 Yet the two vows were certainly
compatible: the new one introduced by the elder includes allusions to the
Decalogue; and Shenoute frequently associates pollution (“defiling the
body”) with transgressions against monastic rules.115 So the only certainty
is that the oaths and covenants evolved over the history of the federation,
and could be modified or supplemented in response to crisis. Other mon-
asteries had multiple vows, notably the Rule of the Master, which calls for
an initial promise at the gate, and another vow accompanying the formal
renunciation of property, to which we now turn.
After a two-month probationary period, the postulant makes a formal
request to live in the monastery and follow the rule. The Rule of the Master
describes the ceremony in some detail. Before the altar in the oratory, with
the rest of the community watching, the abbot states the terms of entry,
which is the main section of the oath:116
Look, brother, you are not promising anything to me, but to God, and this
oratory, and this holy altar. If you obey completely the divine precepts and
my admonitions, on the day of judgement you will receive the crown of
your good deeds, and I will earn some remission of my sins because I incited
you to conquer the devil, with the world. But if you refuse to obey me in
anything, behold, I bear witness to the Lord, and this congregation will also
offer testimony in my favour on the day of judgement that, as I said before,
if you do not obey me in anything, I will be absolved in the judgement of
God, and you will provide an account for your soul and your contempt.
The postulant affirms these terms by leaving his written pledge of property
at the altar, while praying: “Sustain me, Lord, according to your word.”
Afterwards, he is assigned to a dean and begins life as a full member of the
monastery.
While the vow seems to have affected a quasi-legal change in status,
especially after Justinian’s legislation, it was also invoked as an encourage-
ment to follow the commandments, and as a warning of certain damnation
for those who leave the monastery. Theodore invokes his vow in a prayer to
enable his continual following of the commandments: “So now, Lord God
of our father Pachomius, give me the path to vigilance so that I can stand
firm in the words which came from my mouth in your presence, and your
114
Shenoute, Canons 9 (CSCO 42: 20).
115
Schroeder 2007, 4. Besa, Frag. 7: “But for our part, let us guard ourselves from defiling the cov-
enant of our fathers, and let us not put aside their teachings and their commandments, lest we
become an abomination before them” (CSCO 157: 18). Cf. the emphasis on purity “unto Christ,
her living bridegroom” in the vow for virgins of Pseudo-Athanasius, Canons 97 and 98 (Riedel and
Crum: 62).
116
RM 89 (SC 106: 2.372–374).
90 Evaluating Postulants
commandments which your servant commanded me. Reveal your desire
and what you want me to do to me in my heart.”117 In this case, remem-
bering the monastic vow is part of a strategy for overcoming temptation
through prayer.118
The vow to which Theodore refers contains a warning of eternal punish-
ment for failing to meet its terms, a point which is often emphasized in
monastic rhetoric. Thus Horsiesius asks his monks to consider whether
they are exhibiting the “fruits” of following the rules, warning them:  “I
am not saying these things about all of you but about those who scorn the
precepts of the elders. It would be much better for them to be ignorant of
the way of justice than, knowing it, to have turned from what has been
passed down to them by holy commandment.”119 Threats of damnation are
framed in more violent and personal terms in Besa’s letter to the nun Hera,
exhorting her to remain in the congregation.120 He warns her not to turn
back like Lot’s wife, asking: “Do you want your name to be erased in the
book of life after it has been written. . .?”121 Basil is more discreet, noting
only that those who abandon the community have “sinned against God,”
but he is also clear that they will never be allowed to re-enter.122 In short, if
property renunciation was a potent material deterrent to leaving a monas-
tery, the vow was a spiritual deterrent, promising damnation to those who
break their initial commitment.

III. Investiture
The entrance procedures usually culminated with investiture in the monas-
tic habit, which sometimes appears to have occurred simultaneously
with the oath and the renunciation of property. Like the other initiation
117
V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99–100: 120).
118
In another biographical tradition, remembering the covenant brought consolation to
Pachomius: “And his heart was content, because it was an action of the Lord’s spirit which came
upon his heart” (V. Pach. S3, CSCO 99–100: 107).
119
Hors., Test. 31–32 (Boon: 131); cf. 2 Peter 2:21. Cf. the remarks attributed to Pachomius: “Truly cow-
ardly and thrice-miserable is that soul, having renounced the world and dedicated itself to God, while
not living in a manner worthy of its promise” (Paralip. 19, Halkin: 145). Warnings against breaking
the vow are frequent in protreptic literature directed at young men, e.g. Chrys., Thdr. 2:1: “You have
trampled upon the covenants you established with Christ” (PG 47: 309); Hier., Ep. 14:9.
120
Besa warns her: “Do not turn back from your promise, which you promised him” (Frag. 30, CSCO
157: 104).
121
Besa, Frag. 30 (CSCO 157: 102). Similar warnings occur often in the De virginitate literature, e.g.
Hier., Ep. 22:2, which also refers to Lot’s wife.
122
Like the Egyptian sources, Basil speaks of vowing “before God:” “Anyone who has been admitted
to the brotherhood and then puts aside his vow (homologian), must surely be regarded as sinning
against God, before whom and to whom he deposited the vow of his promises” (Basil, LR 14, PG
31: 949).
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 91
procedures, there are few detailed sources about investiture, which seems
to have varied widely among monastic communities.123 The habit, despite
its diverse material and structure, was the universally recognized sign  –
indeed, status symbol – of monasticism, found equally among cenobites,
anchorites, and vagrants.124 Investiture in the habit marked the disciple’s
enduring, visible incorporation within the monastic body: it “made” the
monk.125 As Stephen Davis remarks, “fashion becomes a way of fashioning
self.”126
According to the Pachomian Precept 49, the monk changed clothes at
the gatehouse before being escorted into the congregation. Cassian pro-
vides perhaps the longest description, explaining how, after the initial trial
and interview have established that all property has been discarded, the
postulant is brought before the monastic assembly, stripped, and then
made to dress by the abbot in the monastic habit; his secular clothes are
given to the steward.127 Despite the importance of monastic clothing in
Shenoute’s Canons, especially in his correspondence with the women’s
community, there is no explicit mention of an investiture ceremony in his
extant works.128 The only extant description of investiture in an Egyptian
monastery is in the Life of Eupraxia, a biography of a child-monk. In this
text, the act of dressing in the monastic habit is described as a wedding
with Christ. When Eupraxia says to her mother, “I learned from the supe-
rior and the lordly ascetics that Christ gives this schema as a token to
those who desire him,” her mother responds, before leaving the monastery,
“Christ, to whom you have been betrothed, himself will make you worthy
of his bridal chamber.”129
The reception of the monastic schema was sometimes accompanied
by the tonsure of male monks, though the evidence for this is relatively

123
We are better informed about the liturgies of veiling virgins, for which the earliest evidence is from
late fourth-century Italy: Metz 1954.
124
The classic overviews of the topic remain Oppenheim 1931 and 1932; Late Antique and Medieval
Latin sources are discussed in Constable 1987. Krawiec 2009 is an important study of the ideology
of monastic dress drawing on Bourdieu’s theory of symbolic capital.
125
See e.g. Apophth. Patr. John the Cenobite 1 (PG 65:  220), with other references in Krawiec
2009, 127.
126
Davis 2008, 178.
127
Cass. Inst. coen. 4:5–6 (SC 109: 126–128).
128
Nevertheless, Shenoute traces his monastic identity back to assuming the habit: “after well-nigh
sixty years after my insignificant self entered this way of life and donned the habit.” (Canons 9,
trans. Kuhn 1953: 240). Similarly, according to his Life, Shenoute is “made a monk” through inves-
titure with the “habit of Elijah” by his uncle Pcol (V. Sinuthii 8, CSCO 41: 11). See further Krawiec
2009, 136.
129
V. Eupraxiae 10 (AAS Martii 13: 922).
92 Evaluating Postulants
sparse.130 According to the Arabic version of the Life of Pachomius, both
Pachomius and Theodore were tonsured,131 as is Shenoute in the Bohairic
Life, when his uncle Pcol makes him a monk.132 In the Rule of the Master,
tonsure occurs at the moment of the initial oath, after a trial period of liv-
ing in the monastery for one year: “For thus he is tonsured: the very brother
stands in the middle of the oratory, on bent knees, with everyone singing
Psalms around him as the abbot tonsures him.”133 In Mesopotamian mon-
asteries, tonsure marked the beginning of the three-year novitiate, which
was ended by full investiture, as well as the reception of “the ring of obser-
vance of the commandments.”134
According to Goffman, the procedures for admission to a total institu-
tion, including forced stripping, cleaning, and re-clothing, are intended to
remove important markers of personal identity, and demonstrate radical
subordination to the staff.135 Similarly, Cassian explains how a postulant
was stripped and then dressed with the monastic habit as a reminder “that
he, not only having been deprived of all his former possessions, but also
having placed aside all worldly pride, has descended to the want and pov-
erty of Christ.”136 In combination with other initiation procedures, investi-
ture produced a new, subordinate identity, which was both materially and
spiritually dependent on the monastic director.
This stark social consequence of adopting the monastic habit also
resembles van Gennep’s classic model of the rites of passage, in which par-
ticipants’ change in status is marked by a tripartite ritual involving separa-
tion, liminality, and aggregation (return to the community). Traveling to
a monastery on the edge of the desert or on an island constituted at least a
symbolic, if not a drastic separation from society; while the period of lim-
inality occurred during postulants’ initial rejection and time at the gate-
house, at the boundary of the monastery. The aggregation stage included
investiture in the monastic habit and integration into the new community
130
The most complete study of early Christian tonsure remains Leclerq 1953.
131
See Crum 1913, 173. Pach., P 97 (CSCO 159: 31) prohibits shaving of the head without the super-
vision of the housemaster, presumably to regulate close physical contact; this is evidence for the
practice of shaving outside of ritual initiation.
132
Amélineau 1888, 23.
133
RM 90:81 (SC 106:  392). It is unclear when monks received the habit at the White Monastery
federation. There is nothing to suggest a period of trials beyond one to three months, so it is likely
that the investiture occurred during the oath ceremony. The relevant surviving source, Rule 472, is
not explicit: “All persons whether male or female who at any time enter these congregations to be
a monastic shall not dress in garments or coverings or cloaks of their own property” (trans. Layton
2014: 294).
134
John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 281).
135
Goffman 1961, 16.
136
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:5 (SC 109: 126).
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 93
inside the monastic walls; but unlike most other rites of passage, there was
no return to society at large. Instead, the novice has entered what anthro-
pologist Victor Turner, building on van Gennep’s model, has designated a
state of “permanent liminality.”137
This constant state of liminality is reflected in the ambiguity of the
monastic schema, and its various antecedents, within Roman society. In
Marseilles, many seculars associated investiture in the monastic habit with
an immediate loss of status, according to Salvian: “For when someone has
changed clothes, immediately they change rank.”138 On the other hand,
some early Christian teachers, themselves ascetically inclined, had appro-
priated the prestige of the philosopher’s cloak (tribōn/pallium), a practice
continued by the monastic pioneer Eustathius. But this garment was some-
times criticized as elitist and non-Christian.139 A  similar ambivalence is
detected in the choice of vestments for early female monastic leaders such
as Paula.140 Early Egyptian monks, including Antony and Pachomius, also
adopted a distinctive dress, which was simultaneously a mark of humility
and prestige.
The potential distinction of monastic vestments suggests another pos-
sible interpretation of the investiture ceremony, according to Bourdieu’s
adoption of the “rites of passage.”141 Bourdieu prefers the term “rites of
institution” to emphasize the legitimating functions of these rituals, both
for the organization in which it is carried out and the individuals who
undergo it. His study of elite educational practices explores “ordination”
as a conferral of prestige, which functions as much to exclude others as it
does to integrate a new cohort.142 Similarly, in Late Antique monasteries
the conferral of the habit both excluded cultural competitors (e.g. phi-
losophers) and proximate others (e.g. non-ascetic Christians), symbolizing
the paradoxical superiority of the monastic life, despite and because of
its humility. The prestige of the habit was thus a form of cultural capital,

137
Turner 1966, 133. See also Turner 1966, 185: “Abasement and humility are regarded not as the final
goal. . .but simply as attributes of the liminal phase through which believers must pass on their way
to the final and absolute states of heaven, nirvana, or utopia.”
138
Salvian, De Gubernatione Dei 4:7 (CSEL 8: 75).
139
See Urbano 2013, 223:  “Fourth- and fifth-century accounts of Christians who wore the philos-
opher’s mantle reflect the ambivalence that characterized Christian attitudes toward the Greek
philosophical tradition. Some would see the garb as a marker of erudition and an expression of
the ascetic lifestyle. For others, the robe aroused suspicion and animosity for its association with
professional philosophers and rhetoricians.”
140
Upson-Saia 2011, 57–58.
141
Bourdieu 1991.
142
Bourdieu 1998, 102–115.
94 Evaluating Postulants
albeit contested, that new monks acquired in exchange for their renuncia-
tion of property and status within their new community.143

IV. Conclusion
On balance, then, the “costly rituals” associated with initiation were
“repaid” by the prestige of the habit:  if the initial rejection and hazing
encouraged the uncommitted to leave, while property renunciation and
oaths discouraged abandonment of the community after joining, monastic
vestments were a form of positive reinforcement, a status symbol which
could encourage novices to cultivate their new identity. Indeed, expelled
monks had to put on secular clothes before leaving, in an effort to ensure
that the habit’s prestige would not be transferable.144 In short, initiation
rituals were at once costly signals of commitment that allowed monastic
leaders to assess disciples’ motivation and capacity for obedience; but also
provided a welcome exchange for those who were attracted to the cultural
capital of the habit.
Nonetheless, there were behavioral expectations associated with this
increased status. While the ascetic theorists Evagrius and Cassian invested
the habit with prestige by outlining its biblical precedents, their references
to scriptural virtue also provided examples for the new monk to follow.145 As
Bourdieu notes, investiture “really transforms the person consecrated: first,
because it transforms the representations others have of him and above all
the behaviour they adopt towards him. . .and second, because it simultane-
ously transforms the representation that the invested person has of himself,
and the behaviour he feels obliged to adopt to conform to that representa-
tion.”146 Theodore notes precisely this dynamic in his reminder: “Just as we
have all sought to put on the acts of the habit we wear.”147

143
See Krawiec 2009, 130: “Scholars of both antiquity and modernity note that Bourdieu’s explanation
of the uses of economic and cultural capital, and their transformation into symbolic capital, helps
explicate the religious use of dress that emphasizes symbolic meaning over economic value.”
144
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:6; cf. RM 90.
145
Evagr. Pont. Cap. Prac. Prologue 8 (SC 171: 490–492); Cassian, Inst. coen. 1:2 (SC 109: 36). See also
LR 22–23 (PG 31: 977–981), Cassian, Inst. coen. 1:7 (SC 109: 46–48). As Krawiec notes: “Ancient
writers invested in descriptions of the clothing of their monks because they could “profit” by it; the
more the presentation of the appropriately dressed monk became standard, the more the authors
successfully defined, and so regulated, monastic identity” (Krawiec 2009, 131).
146
Bourdieu 1991, 119.
147
Theo., Instr. 3:3 (CSCO 159: 41). A similar appeal is made in Hors., Instr. 1:2 (CSCO 159: 67).
Dorotheus, in a lecture to novices at the monastery of Tawatha, likewise urges: “Let us live a life
appropriate for our habit” (Dor., Doct. 1:19, SC 92: 174).
 Discerning Motivation II: Trials of Commitment 95
But investiture in the monastic habit was only an early stage in a longer
disciplinary process. Indeed, Pachomius worried that the behavior of
certain neophytes would scandalize visitors.148 Horsiesius warns against
becoming complacent in the monastic schema, which can lead to sin and
discouragement:149
Therefore we have all heard this name “monk,” we have all received the
habit, thinking that it is the habit that will present us to God. But after we
tore apart the laws of the habit, we despaired, we abandoned [the vow]. We
are taught, “Wretched person, guard purity, so that you might enter the city
of God.” The fool says, “I want to go to the city, but I will not be able to put
aside the pleasure of pollution.” And you said, “I want to go to God full of
possessions.” The wretched person said, “I want to go to God full of care.”
Horsiesius satirizes those who trust in the habit yet “tear apart” the rules
with which it is connected. Despite their renunciation, they want to reach
the city of God “full of possessions,” and are unable to extricate themselves
from the “pleasure of pollution.”
Basil of Caesarea offers a more optimistic account of how the prestige of
the monastic schema produces a useful sense of shame in novice monks:150
A distinctive style of clothing is also useful for announcing each one, bear-
ing early witness of their profession of a life according to God, so that his
actions follow what is expected from those who encounter us. . .So the pro-
fession by means of the habit is a kind of pedagogue for the weaker, for
restraining them, even if unwilling, from bad deeds.
Thus the habit, as “a kind of pedagogue for the weaker,” trains disciples to
imagine that their behavior is under constant scrutiny and evaluation. The
shaming function of the habit is evocatively extended to the last judge-
ment by Abba Dioscorus, who fears being found “naked,” without the
“heavenly garment,” at the divine judgement, warning: “Brothers, there is
great shame for us, if, after wearing the habit for so long, we are discovered
in the hour of necessity without the wedding garment.”151
In Part II of this book, we will examine how novices learned and incor-
porated scripture and this new sense of shame, a key aspect of the fear of
God. Both of these complex practices took shape in the context of frequent

148
V. Pach. SBo 40 (CSCO 89: 43–44).
149
Hors., Frag. A (CSCO 159: 81). In Discourses 8, Shenoute makes the same double reference to
“name” and “habit,” this time referring not only to monks but more generally, warning that such
markers of status are of no avail before God if they are not accompanied by virtuous behavior
(CSCO 73: 3; trans. Brakke and Crislip 2015, 119–120).
150
LR 22:3 (PG 31: 980).
151
Apophth. Patr. Dioscorus 3 (PG 65: 161).
96 Evaluating Postulants
revelations of the novice’s thoughts to the teacher, who in turn recom-
mended appropriate cognitive disciplines. This involved prolonged work
on the self, and indeed the Rule of the Master compares the cutting of the
hair for tonsure to removing enmity from the heart.152 Basil’s remark that
the habit is “for restraining them, even if unwilling, from bad deeds” signals
the drastic shift that occurs between entrance procedures and member-
ship: whereas monastic authors emphasized the monks’ free will in joining,
their description of instruction and discipline invokes humility and obedi-
ence, sometimes through force.

152
RM 90. Similarly, Gregory the Great asserted that shaving the hair is like removing thoughts from
one’s head (Greg-M., Past. 2:7, PL 77: 41–42).
 P a rt   I I

Cognitive Disciplines

Introduction to Part II
The renunciation of worldly responsibilities, coupled with the provision of
material needs in the cenobia, provided “freedom” for new monks to focus
on care for their souls. This shift, however, was hardly relaxing: it neces-
sitated a heightened attention to inner thoughts and temptations, which
could be particularly difficult for the untrained. John of Ephesus described
how – after completing three months of intensive labor – postulants were
warned:  “Is it too hard for you? After you have received the mark and
laid a foundation for repentance, let not Satan return again; for from this
time struggles and temptations such as you have not seen will assail you.”1
Another sixth-century monastic text in Syriac attributes to Pachomius a
similar teaching on the cognitive struggles faced by novices:2
Now monks, at the beginning [of their career] are afflicted for a long time,
not only by the stirring up of the evil thoughts themselves, but also by their
tarrying in the heart; but after a known time a man receives the strength
from our Lord, through their tarrying, and also after a known time their
motion is restrained, and then the monk also hath rest from strivings, and
is held to be worthy of purity of heart.
In this dangerous war with demonic temptation and self-will, experienced
monks offered novices the consolation that victory was possible through
reliance on their teaching and God’s support.
Pachomius’s advice to his disciples was simple: to practice constant vigi-
lance, and to “judge your thoughts.”3 This is a call to metacognition, an
increased awareness of the life of the mind. In reconstructing the con-
tours of this thought-world, one must attend to “the relationship between

1
John of Ephesus, Lives of the Eastern Saints 20 (PO 17: 281).
2
Questions and Answers on the Ascetic Rule 625, trans. Budge 1907, 297. Cf. Pach., Instr. 1:11.
3
Pach., Instr. 1:55–56 (CSCO 159: 22). Cf. 1:10, 12, 36, 41, 43.

97
98 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
large-scale structures of knowledge available to ancient knowers, the activ-
ity of knowing particular things, and the practical range of possibilities
that late ancient knowers considered themselves to have about the world.”4
The development of disciples’ knowledge about mental processes was con-
ditioned by the expectations of their monastic environment, as well as the
special practices associated with it, above all the revealing of thoughts to
superiors and subsequent counseling from them. This process encouraged
the formation of a new theory of mind, with the help of cognitive disci-
plines, intended to fashion a more pious and pure mind.

Cognitive Manifestations
A crucial component in this divinely ordained cognitive struggle was the
revelation of disciples’ thoughts to authority figures such as Pachomius
and Theodore. This practice, frequently denoted by exomologēsis and
its cognates in the ancient sources, is usually translated as “confession,”
implying a close association with the ecclesiastic sacrament of private con-
fession and penance, which developed in the medieval period.5 Pachomian
exomologēsis, by contrast, was much more fluid: it occurred in both pri-
vate and public; and while it might entail the admission of sinful deeds,
the emphasis was on troubling thoughts and desires, which were often
interpreted as demonic temptations. I thus prefer the term “manifestation
of thoughts,” proposed by Columba Stewart in his study of the practice
within semi-eremitic monasticism.6
A number of passages in the biographical tradition suggest the impor-
tance of the manifestation of thoughts for Pachomian monasticism.
Despite the large size of the Koinonia, Pachomius is said to have toured
the cells of individual monks, “examining the brothers, and correcting the
thoughts of each one.”7 Similarly, Theodore’s vigilant care included inspec-
tions of cells to determine compliance to the rule: “For often he would call
two faithful brothers and go around to all the brothers’ cells quietly, keep-
ing watch over them lest any of the brothers was being negligent regarding
their place of sleep – he vied with their housemasters or their seconds –
and lest any one have afflictions or emotional pain because of the tempta-
tions of the demons.”8

4
Chin and Vidas 2015, 3.
5
The term exagoreusis is also used regularly.
6
Stewart 1991.
7
Paralip. 27 (Halkin: 15).
8
V. Pach. SBo 191 (CSCO 107:  179). For Theodore’s visitations as a form of surveillance, see Sala
2011, 66–67.
 Cognitive Disciplines 99
Theodore encouraged the manifestation of thoughts by offering privacy
to troubled disciples: “He would have the brothers walking with him stand
at a small distance so that they would not hear him speaking with any of
the brothers whom he was chastising to stand firm against evil thoughts.”9
This strategy seems to have been a concession to the potential shame in talk-
ing about secret thoughts or deeds. As Cassian notes, new disciples were
taught “not to conceal with a harmful blushing any wanton thoughts in the
heart. . .”10 Similarly, Horsiesius warns his audience against admitting sinful
behavior because of shame: “But if we are following our thoughts and our
soul grasps another thing, then why do we not simply admit our mistake and
show that we are what we are ashamed to seem, lest perhaps it might also be
spoken to us, ‘Why did you pollute my holy place?’ ”11
Once thoughts were revealed, the superiour might offer encouragement
or rebuke, depending on the disciples’ character and the particular circum-
stances.12 In his First Instruction, Pachomius encouraged his disciples, not-
ing that he was frequently attacked by “spirits,” but eventually triumphed
through divine assistance.13 Theodore places this personal appeal within
salvation history, asserting that God “formed” biblical heroes, martyrs, and
finally Pachomius and Horsiesios, “through hidden temptations and ill-
nesses.”14 The Great Coptic Life makes a similar claim for Theodore, sug-
gesting that this experience authorizes his own “care for souls:” “through
the trial he received, he helps those who are under trial” (cf. Heb. 2:18).15
Although Theodore was known for his ability to comfort monks under-
going tribulations, he sometimes ordered stricter asceticism, or rebuke,
as a strategy for overcoming temptation. “And others still, knowing that
consoling words would not profit them, he would rebuke skillfully and
9
Ibid.
10
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:9 (SC 109: 132). Others urged private confession as a means of shielding inex-
perienced onlookers from dangerous temptation. According to the Coptic version of the Lausiac
History, Evagrius requested that monks reveal particularly vexing thoughts to him in private, rather
than in his discussion group, so as to avoid scandalizing less experienced monks (Vivian 2000, 83–
84). Similarly, Basil argues in the Short Rules that “confession of sins should only occur before those
able to cure them” (PG 31: 1236).
11
Hors., Test. 28 (Boon: 129).
12
This “mixed style” of exhortation, alternating consolation and rebuke, is found in the Pauline
Epistles (Glad 1995), an important source for monastic literature; and given systematic expression
for Christian paideia in Clement of Alexandria’s Pedagogue, which offers a complex typology of the
different types of exhortation employed by Christ, the Logos, as he speaks through the Scriptures
(Clem., Paed. 1:8).
13
Pach., Instr. 1:11.
14
Theo., Instr. 3:2 (CSCO 159: 40).
15
V. Pach. SBo 191 (CSCO 107: 180). Theodore’s Third Instruction is built on the premise that “The
Lord instructs the one he loves” (cf. Heb. 12:6) (Theo., Instr. 3:1, CSCO 159:  40; cf. Instr. 3:6,
CSCO 159: 42) and alludes to various types of trial, from famine to monastic disputes and demonic
temptation.
100 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
awaken them through the remembrance of good discernment towards
God, so that they might keep his commandments and do his will always
and in everything.”16 Rebuke was especially associated with the public
manifestation of thoughts, an important element of discipline explored in
detail in Chapter 5.
Given the size of many early Egyptian cenobia, it is unlikely that all dis-
ciples regularly manifested their thoughts to the abbot. In the somewhat
smaller Basilian monasticism, disciples were specifically ordered to “reveal
the hidden things of the heart to those entrusted among the siblings to
care for the weak compassionately and sympathetically.”17 But no such
command is found in either the Pachomian rules or the Canons from the
White Monastery. Shenoute himself demanded that the superiors of the
women’s community reveal everything to him, which presumably included
manifestations of their disciples’ thoughts.18 This recalls a passage from the
Great Coptic Life, in which housemasters referred disciples under suspi-
cion of demonic temptation to Theodore for counseling.19 The Rule of the
Master calls for a similar communication between deans and abbot:20
So when an evil thought enters into the heart of some brother and he feels
that he is wavering because of it, let him immediately confess it to his deans,
and soon, after a prayer is made, they will inform the abbot about it. For
the deans themselves should always on their own initiative interrogate those
under their authority about this, lest perhaps, either because of the simplic-
ity of some, or indeed by the very shame of the evil (thoughts), the brother
is ashamed to confess depraved and obscene things.
While these accounts point to involuntary questioning, some monks
doubtless sought the advice of housemasters or other senior monks at their
own initiative.21 Whether voluntary or involuntary, the manifestation of
the thought was an important step in cultivating a monastic theory of
mind: the thought then had to be classified and, if necessary, combatted.

16
V. Pach. SBo 191 (CSCO 107: 180); cf. V. Pach. SBo 195. The mixed method of rebuke and consola-
tion is also presented as an integral part of Pachomius’s pastoral care in V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/
100: 118–119).
17
Basil, LR 26 (PG 31: 985, 988). The confession of sinful actions is mandated in LR 46.
18
See Krawiec 2002, 86–87.
19
“He would speak with each one of those whom the housemasters brought him lest the enemy sow
some evil thoughts in them secretly, wishing to destroy their souls, and to build them up through
the Scriptures, so that they despise evil and empty thoughts” (V. Pach. SBo 191, CSCO 107: 180).
20
RM 15 (SC 106: 64).
21
V. Pach. G1 96, which urges the monk to “consult someone experienced,” noting that, “It’s a great
evil not to announce (anaggeilai) this quickly to one who has knowledge, before the passion (pathos)
matures” (Halkin: 64–65). Note the voluntary nature of most of the letters sent by disciples to
Barsanuphius and John requesting advice.
 Cognitive Disciplines 101

Cognitive Typologies
The authority to advise a disciple about thoughts was predicated on the
charism of discernment, as is stated explicitly in the account of Theodore’s
care for souls: “In short, he spoke with each of them in private, discern-
ing their thoughts and their deeds through the spirit of God that was in
him.”22 Discernment (diakrisis/discretio) in the Pachomian sources refers
primarily to the ability to identify the significance and origins of one’s own
mental state, or the mental state of another.23 Pachomian discernment is
best understood in the context of earlier ascetic formulas, such as Origen’s
tripartite classification of cognition as divine/angelic, human, or demonic,
which was largely replicated by Ammonas, Evagrius and Cassian.24 Antony
identified three motivations for human action: the inclination of the will;
movements of the body; and demonic thoughts.25
Although Pachomian sources offer no such concise typology of dis-
cernment, the collective evidence suggests that they followed a similar
model:  humans may themselves choose to do evil through free will,26
while “thoughts” are usually understood to be demonic temptation.27
Some thoughts are described as “carnal,” implying a physical component
to cognition and recalling Antony’s “movements of the body.”28 But the
Evagrian division of the soul (following Origen) between two irrational
parts (epithumia and thumos, both associated to pathos), and a rational one
(nous/logistikon) that should guide disciples, is absent in the Pachomian
material.29 In Egyptian cenobitic literature, especially in Coptic texts, the
“heart” (kardia, hēt, cor) is the primary seat of cognition. In the monastic
context, thoughts did not refer in the first instance to evaluating the truth-
value of propositions, such as theological statements, or to efforts at orga-
nizing a speech or an account book;30 but to the varied reflections of the
22
V. Pach. SBo 195 (CSCO 107: 190).
23
The term has a somewhat broader meaning in semi-eremitic monasticism, where it also concerns
the correct interpretation of Scripture and other literature, as well as insight into other people and
events, on which see Rich 1997. For a survey of discernment in early Christianity, see Lienhard 1980.
24
Or., Princ. 3.2.4. Ammonas, Ep. 11; Evagr. Pont., Thoughts 8; Cassian, Inst. coen. 1:19.
25
Vitae patrum, Fornication 1; Antony’s Letter 1, which does not ascribe the thoughts to God, but
nature. See the discussion in Rubenson 1994, 51–54.
26
Autexousion/wōsh emmin emmof. For example, Theodore characterized the rebellion against
Horsiesius as rooted in self-will (V. Pach. S6, CSCO 99/100: 273); cf. Ruppert 1971, 356–363.
27
On the term logismoi in Pachomian sources, see Rousseau 1985, 139–141.
28
“Thoughts and passions of the flesh” (Theo., Instr. 3:20, CSCO 159:  50); “fleshly thoughts”
(V. Pach. S1, CSCO 99/100: 3).
29
For Evagrian anthropology, and its relationship to Origen, see O’Laughlin 1988.
30
Though for some post-Chacledonian monastic authors, theological disputation was a form of
ascetic practice: cf. Michelson 2015, 178–203, on Philoxenus of Mabbug.
102 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
wandering mind. Although Pachomian sources refer to both “emotions”
(pathos, epithumia) and “thoughts” (logismos, me’ewe), these do not appear
to have distinctive meanings. Thoughts are often presented as internalized
speech in Pachomian sources and Shenoute, a kind of narrativized pre-
sentation of emotion;31 both constitute a disturbance of the heart, and are
often identified as demonic.
Like Pachomius, Shenoute refers to logismoi, epithumia, and pathos in
roughly the same fashion, as sources of sin. His views on cognitive strug-
gle are tied to his worldview, which David Brakke has aptly described as
“dualistic.”32 For Shenoute, evil was manifested in the devil and his demons,
which were also responsible for cognitive struggles. In a striking image, he
asserts that Christ has dismembered the devil, whose sole means of fight-
ing is now to breath evil thoughts:33
He [the devil] is unable to move [any of his members] so as to get up or
pursue a person, except for his breath alone, which comes and goes, that is,
his thoughts, which Christ left in him because he wants his children, his
soldiers, his servants, and all who are on his side to lay their hands upon him
[the devil], that is, to fight against his godless thoughts [logismoi], so that
they might be glorified with him and reign with him.
In another episode, however, Shenoute portrays the devil on his feet,
wandering the monastery grounds at night disguised as an imperial offi-
cial. He must rely on discernment to unmask this intruder, in the process
realizing that it is necessary to expel a group of sinful monks from the
congregation.34 Shenoute simply labels individuals and their thoughts as
demonic, without providing specialized strategies for combatting particu-
lar logismoi; but as we will see, he relies on the same cognitive disciplines to
combat evil thoughts as Pachomius and other monks.
While discernment was generally understood as a charism, there are
hints of systemized teaching upon which leaders could draw in offering
advice about thoughts. The most famous is Evagrius’s classic system of eight
thoughts: gluttony (gastrimargia), fornication (porneia), avarice (philarguria),
sadness (lypē), anger (orgē), sloth (akēdia), vainglory (kenodoxia), and pride
(hyperēphania).35 Several Pachomian lists of thoughts show important simi-
larities to the Evagrian typology, as well as departures from it. The First

31
Speech is also equated with thought in multiple passages of Origen, for which see Tavares-
Bettencourt 1945, 35ff.
32
Brakke 2006, 6. Shenoute’s approach to the demonic,is explored in Brakke 2006, 100–124.
33
Shenoute, Discourses 4, trans. Brakke 2006: 107.
34
Brakke 2006, 1–2, discussing Shenoute, Canons 9 (CSCO 42: 37–41).
35
This typology, which is found in the Praktikos, Antirrhetikos, and Eight Spirits, varies somewhat.
 Cognitive Disciplines 103
Instruction notes fifteen ”spirits” which “walk with one another:” coward-
ice (mentkyabhēt) and lack of faith (mentatnahte); lying (kyol) and deceit
(mentsankotes); avarice (mentmaihoment) and profiteering (menteshōōt); per-
jury (mentrefōrek ennouj), malice (ponēria), and envy (mentyerboone); vain-
glory (kenodoxia) and gluttony (mentlabmahet); fornication (porneia) and
pollution (akatharsia); enmity (mentjaje) and sadness (lypē)’.36 This list is
longer than the standard Evagrian one, with which it shares several Greek
terms (kenodoxia, porneia, lypē), as well as the Coptic equivalents for ava-
rice and gluttony.37 Malice and enmity are rough equivalents for Evagrian
anger, although akēdia and vainglory are not represented in the Pachomian
sources.
The presentation of the vices as spirits (elsewhere in the First Instruction
they are called demonic thoughts) closely recalls the “seven spirits of
deceit,” which are revealed to the patriarch Reuben when he repents for
committing porneia with Bilhah.38 Indeed, the rhetorical tone of much
Pachomian catechetical material, especially the First Instruction, recalls the
Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, in which an elder commands a child to
act with moral virtue, including obedience to the divine law, for the sake
of inheriting the blessings promised to the parents.39 The list of spirits in
the Testament of Reuben is accompanied by the same paraenetic material,
including exhortations to vigilance and warnings of divine punishment,
found in monastic instruction.40
The testament of Abraham of Farshut, the final leader of the Koinonia,
contains another traditional list of evil thoughts:
Pay attention, siblings, and guard your hearts, so that the enemy might
not sow among you these evil weeds, which are hatred (moste) towards one
another, enmity (mentjaje), wrath (noukys) and anger (kyōnet), envy (kōh)

36
Pach., Instr. 1:10 (CSCO 159: 2–3).
37
In general, the Pachomian literature suggests that termini technici, such as vices, were found both as
Greek loanwords and in Coptic translation: in one passage, the Coptic calque and its corresponding
Greek follow each other in succession: “I urge you very much that you hate vainglory (eow etsweit);
the weapon of the devil is vainglory (kenodoxia)” (Pach., Instr. 1:24, CSCO 159: 8).
38
Testament of Reuben 2:1–3:7. The spirits actually number more than seven, because some are listed
with additional related vices, as in the First Instruction: fornication, insatiableness, fighting, obse-
quiousness and chicanery, that through officious attention may be fair in seeming; pride, that one
may be boastful and arrogant, lying, in perdition and jealousy to practice deceits, and concealments
from kindred and friends; injustice, “with which are thefts of acts of rapacity.” For the relationship
of the Testaments to the teachings of Origen and Evagrius on thoughts, see Stewart 2005, 6.
39
The same ideology of inheritance undergirds the commemoration of Pachomius, as discussed in
Chapter 6.
40
Connections between rabbinic and early Christian demonology are explored in Rosen-Zvi 2011; for
a general approach to comparing early Christian and rabbinic literature, see Bar-Asher Siegal 2013.
For depictions of the heart in Syriac literature (including ascetic texts), see Brock 1998.
104 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
and strife (ti-tōn), plotting (mentrefskoptei), slander (katalalia), indulgence
(spatala), derision (sōbe), covetousness (mentmaito), love of one’s own ease
(mentmai-tenemton mawaan), and all the other evils which our holy fathers
wrote down so as to remove them from us.41
This list is almost entirely distinct from Evagrius’ (except for anger,
though the Coptic term is used), and, like the previous example, is notable
for its cenobitic flavor: almost all of the evil deeds suggest disputes between
disciples, such as “hatred towards one another.”42
After a disciple reveals a thought, and the advisor identifies it as evil, the
struggle has begun. Pachomius was known for his teachings on the wiles of
demons: “And, while seated, he would often give catecheses to the brothers,
and he obliged them, first, to be blameless in knowledge, and not ignorant
of the craftiness of the enemies, and to oppose them with the power of the
Lord.”43 Similarly Theodore, having beaten the demons himself, “taught
[the disciples] how to oppose each of the foreign thoughts.”44 Some strate-
gies were directed at specific temptations, such as Pachomius’s advice to
overcome anger by counting verbal insults as spiritual profit: “gaining a
solidus” through imitating Christ.45
Despite such advice from more experienced monks, and emotional sup-
port in the form of prayer, disciples were ultimately responsible for their
own interaction with the thought: would they resist it, reject it, or consent
to it? Even if a temptation was demonic, monks exercized their own free
choice in responding to it. As Basil argues in his Shorter Rule, Satan is never
entirely responsible for sin, but takes advantage of “natural movements”
(e.g. hunger) or “forbidden passions” (e.g. avarice).46 In the Pachomian
tradition, the divine will makes itself known through the conscience, even
if beginners do not always recognize or obey its inner voice; furthermore,
humans are endowed with free will, and thus can always choose good
over evil. These are the first of five mental processes listed in a fragmen-
tary passage from the Tenth Sahidic Life: “The Lord placed [conscience]

41
Goehring 2012, 88–89.
42
The same is true of a shorter list of four thoughts, given in an instruction by Pachomius on the need
for continued vigilance: “Lust for power (philarchia), slothfulness (oknēria), hatred of a brother
(misos pros ton adelphon), avarice (philarguria)” (V. Pach. G1 96, Halkin: 64–65).
43
V. Pach. G1 56 (Halkin: 56).
44
V. Pach. G1 132 (Halkin: 83–84).
45
“Do not be grieved if you are cursed by men, but grieve, and cry out, when you sin” (Pach., Instr.
1:23, CSCO 159: 8).
46
SR 75 (PG 31: 1136). Cassian concedes that it can be difficult to identify the source of a temptation
as demonic or personal (Conf. 7:9), citing Mt. 15:19 as proof that humans are responsible for evil
thoughts.
 Cognitive Disciplines 105
([sunei]dēsis) in people, and free will (autexousion), and discernment
(diakrisis), and perception (aisthēsis), and wisdom (mentsabe), just as the
parts of the soul, which are evident when a person works with them, each
one according to [the person’s] need.”47 These five components of the soul,
which are imagined as analogous to the body, are never systematically
described in extant Pachomian literature, but their basic functions are rel-
atively clear: conscience and free will make ethical action possible, even for
beginners, and are often manifested through an inner divine voice; per-
ception refers not to the basic senses but to a spiritual capacity developed
through the praise of God’s grandeur and generosity; while discernment
and wisdom, which played a role in visionary experiences, were also culti-
vated through prayer and active only for advanced disciples. Monks were
expected to work on their thoughts to shape their mental life in the image
of such models.

Cognitive Disciplines: Scripture, Fear of God, and Prayer

Early monastic literature constantly invokes three resources to draw upon
in the battle against bad thoughts, which will be the topics of the following
three chapters: scripture, the fear of God, and prayer. Monks were taught
to practice these cognitive disciplines and to call on them in situations of
temptation, to avoid committing a sinful deed, or simply assenting to an
evil temptation.
The central role of Scripture and the fear of God in cognitive struggle
is highlighted in John Cassian’s presentation of the “spiritual” centurion
(of Mt. 8:9) as a model for accepting good thoughts and rejecting bad
ones. This pious warrior employs the “shield of faith” to destroy “flaming
darts of lust” through “the fear of future judgement,” and the “sword of
the Spirit,” namely Scripture.48 These twin weapons – Scripture and the
fear of God  – are frequently mentioned in Pachomian and other early
cenobitic sources. In an exhortation for obedience to superiors offering the
care of souls, Horsiesius recommends the “fear of God,” quoting Ephesians

47
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 41); elsewhere these five components are said to represent the image
of God:  V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100:  325). Although God is said to endow Adam with free will
elsewhere in early Christian literature, e.g. (Ps.-)Athanasius, De incarnatione contra Apollinarem 1:15
(PG 26:1120B), the five Pachomian psychic faculties appear to be unique, and their context in Late
Antique Egypt deserves further exploration.
48
Cassian, Inst. coen. 7:5. In a letter written from his monastery at Bethlehem, Jerome sought to recruit
Paulinus of Nola as a disciple, suggesting that their budding epistolary connection is wrought by
“the fear of God and a study of the divine Scriptures” (Hier., Ep. 53:1, Labourt: 8).
106 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
6:16–17, like Cassian:  “Take up the shield of faith, with which you can
extinguish all the flaming arrows of the devil. Take up the sword of the
Spirit, which is the word of God.”49 Similarly, for Theodore, the vigilant
monitoring of thoughts is achieved through Scripture and the fear of
God: “If we do not [keep vigil] at all times through our speaking the holy
Scriptures, the enemy will take from us the fear of the Lord and instead
make us fear him.”50 And the young Shenoute presented them as mecha-
nisms for cleansing the heart in his open letter to the White Monastery
federation:  “Woe to me, and woe to you, because, in our evils and our
pollutions, we have not washed our heart through the fear of God and the
writings of the Scriptures.”51
Prayer, like Scripture and the fear of God, is often recommended to
monks as a strategy for overcoming evil thoughts and temptations. Evagrius
offers the only explicit definition of prayer in monastic sources: a conversa-
tion of the mind with God.52 The recitation of Scripture, especially when
the verse is directly addressed to God, is thus a form of prayer. Another
important feature of prayer is the turning of the self towards God.53 Both
aspects are found in the following instruction by Pachomius:54
When a thought oppresses you, do not be discouraged, but endure it with
bravery, saying, “In a circle they encircled me, but I drove them back in the
name of the Lord” (Psalm 118:11). Immediately God’s help will come to you,
and you will drive them away, outside of you, and courage will encircle you,
and the glory of God will walk with you; and you will be satiated as your
soul desires.
This prayer quotes the Psalm verse, and its invocation of “the Lord,” lead-
ing to divine invigoration and support. Later in the same instruction,
Pachomius describes prayer as a turning to God in the sense of a request
for help: “When I flee to God with tears, humility, fasts, and vigils, then
the enemy grows weak before me, as well as all his spirits; God’s courage
came to me, and immediately I experience God’s help.”55 We will explore

49
Hors., Test. 19 (Boon: 121).
50
V. Pach. SBo 186 (CSCO 107:  169); bracketed words are translations of my emendation to the
Bohairic text. I will discuss numerous other Pachomian passages that invoke Scripture and the fear
of God in the context of evil thoughts in Chapters Three and Four respectively.
51
Shenoute, Canons 1 (CSCO 42: 199)
52
Evagr. Pont., Or. 3.
53
For a discussion of Origen and Evagrius’s theories of prayer, including their Graeco-Roman context,
see Bitton-Ashkelony 2011, 296–300.
54
Pach., Instr. 1:9 (CSCO 159: 2).
55
Pach., Instr. 1:11 (CSCO 159: 3).
 Cognitive Disciplines 107
other prayer “scripts,” including non-biblical ones, for seeking help against
temptation in Chapter 5.
The cognitive disciplines of Scripture, fear of God, and prayer reflect the
classical philosophical tradition of spiritual exercises, which Pierre Hadot
defines as practices leading to the “transformation of our vision of the world,
and to a metamorphosis of our personality.”56 Philosophical exercises were
usually based on the distinctive teaching of a particular school. For example,
the Stoic Epictetus taught his students that they should only be concerned
with moral questions in situations under their control. This entailed adopt-
ing a new attitude, or disposition, which they constantly meditated upon,
and always had “at hand” (procheiron), commanding their focused attention
(prosochē): “Continuous vigilance and presence of mind, self-consciousness
which never sleeps, and constant tension of spirit.”57 For example, the Stoic
Musonius advised his students to identify various personal attributes, such
as power and beauty, which were outside of their control and thus should
not cause them emotional stress.58 This regular meditation formed a disposi-
tion that ensured proper behavior in situations of intense unavoidable loss,
such as avoiding excessive grief at the death of a family member.
Michel Foucault, building on Hadot’s work, introduced the concept
of “technologies of the self,” which “permit individuals to effect by their
own means or with the help of others a certain number of operations on
their own bodies and souls, thoughts, conduct, and way of being, so as to
transform themselves in order to attain a certain state of happiness, purity,
wisdom, perfection, or immortality.”59 Technologies of the self have proven
extremely useful for interpreting monastic culture, as demonstrated by
Talal Asad’s now classic study of medieval communities.60 More recently,
Brouria Bitton-Ashkelony has explored how prayer in the monasteries of
Late Antique Gaza functioned as a “spiritual exercise” and “technology of
the self.”61 I concur with her identification, and further suggest that prayer,

56
Hadot 1995, 82. In the monastic context, note also the helpful definition as “inner exertions of
thought and will” (Bitton-Ashkelony 2003, 200).
57
See Hadot 1995, 84. Richard Sorabji calls these “cognitive exercises,” and offers a careful exposition
of them (Sorabji 2000, 211–252).
58
Musonius, Frag. 6.
59
Foucault 1998, 18.
60
Asad 1993; cf. the notion of “disciplinary acts” in Mahmood 2005. In his anthropology of contem-
porary Ukrainian monasticism, Vlad Naumescu understands “technologies” in the sense of both
Maussian bodily techniques and Foucauldian technologies of self (Naumescu 2012).
61
Bitton-Ashkelony 2003. As she notes, a number of other monastic practices might be considered in
this category, such as attention to oneself, watching the heart, and self-mastery (Bitton-Ashkelony
2003, 200–201). Indeed, Scripture, the fear of God, and prayer are related to these practices.
108 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
Scripture, and the fear of God have strong affinities with what cognitive
anthropologists have called “technologies of the imagination,” namely
“the social and material means” by which individuals “bring to mind that
which is not entirely present to the senses.”62 For example, monks used
Scripture to imagine that God spoke to them directly; imagined that their
secret thoughts and actions were under the immediate scrutiny of God and
others; and contemplated the majesty of God’s creation during prayer in
order to alleviate demonic temptation.
More generally, Scripture, the fear of God, and prayer form a set of
related practices that I call “cognitive disciplines,” which develop the men-
tal, emotional, and imaginative capacities of monks, and help them learn
the new theory of mind. Cognitive disciplines involved new teachings and
attitudes that were not passively received, but actively learned through
exercises of the mind and body. They were also reinforced through monas-
tic institutional structures, such as literary instruction and discipline,
including corporal punishment. Indeed, cognitive disciplines trained
embodied minds, and the importance of the body is evident in such prac-
tices as stretching out the hands in prayer during vigils to stay awake and
maintain focus. As “heart-work,” they constitute a key element of asceti-
cism practiced alongside and in relation to physical renunciations. The
goal of cognitive disciplines was to attain an enduring disposition: having
Scripture written in the heart, acting in the fear of God, praying in a state
of perception.
As cognitive disciplines, Scripture, the fear of God, and prayer were
practiced regularly, deployed strategically, and constituted permanent
mind-body states of experienced disciples. In this latter capacity they
are an example of what Tanya Luhrmann calls metakinesis:  “mind-body
states that are both identified within the group as the way of recognizing
God’s personal presence in your life and are subjectively and idiosyncrati-
cally experienced. These states, or phenomena, are lexically identified and
indeed the process of learning to have these experiences cannot be neatly
disentangled from the process of learning the words to describe them.”63

62
Sneath, Holbraad, and Pedersen 2009, 6. They propose a shift from the traditional view of devel-
opmental psychology that imagination is the special purview of childhood and fantasy:  “Rather
than some special (let alone delusional) form of cognition we are dealing with a capacity involved
in everything from the basic perception of objects to our engagement with entirely immaterial
knowledge” (12). See also Naumescu’s understanding of how disciplinary practices “enable monks
to ‘sense the divine’ and make it real in their lives” (Naumescu 2012, 229).
63
Luhrmann 2004, 522. She identifies “falling in love with Jesus” and “the peace of God” as metaki-
netic states in the Horizon Christian Fellowship of Southern California.
 Cognitive Disciplines 109
The constant use of biblical phrases thus leads to Scripture “inscribed on
the heart;” contemplating the divine judgement leads to a general God-
fearing attitude; and giving thanks to God in prayer gives rise to percep-
tion. In the following three chapters, we explore these cognitive disciplines
at work, examining their constitutive practices, and the means by which
they are permanently incorporated into the minds and bodies of monks.
 Ch apter 3

Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic

Soundscape
Writing on the Heart

“When he began to read or to write by heart the words of God, he

[Pachomius] did not do this in a loose way or as many do, but worked
over each thing to assimilate it with a humble mind in gentleness and
truth.” V. Pach. G1 91
“These are the words which lead us to eternal life, which our father
gave to us, and ordered to meditate upon continuously, so that that
which is written might be fulfilled in us: ‘These words, with which
I command you today, will be in your heart and in your mind, you
will teach them to your children, and you shall speak concerning
them, sitting in your house, and walking on the road, and lying
down and rising. You will write them for a sign on your hand, and
they will stay fixed before your eyes (Deuteronomy 11:18–20)’.”
Hors., Test. 512
While much has been written about Antony’s alleged illiteracy, as cel-
ebrated in his Life, scholars have largely ignored the biographical tradi-
tions heralding the practical literacy of Pachomius, despite the fact that his
Letters are the earliest surviving literature composed originally in Coptic.
The First Greek Life presents the founder of the Koinonia as a model of
humble yet effective learning, which he pursued under the guidance of
Palamon:  “And, having begun to read and to meditate upon the words
of God by heart, he did not do this in simplicity, as many do, but struggled
over each [passage] to possess it all in himself, with humility and gentleness
and truth.”3 Pachomius is thus portrayed neither as an acclaimed littéra-
teur, as Gregory boasted of his brother Basil,4 nor “unlearned in letters,”

1
Halkin: 7.
2
Boon: 143–144.
3
V. Pach. G1 9 (Halkin: 7). He is also said to have studied the Psalms at Tabennesi:  V. Pach. G1 24
(Halkin: 14–15). According to V. Pach. SBo 15 (CSCO 89: 16–17), he learned the biblical books in
order. And in V. Pach. SBo 14, he recites scriptures by heart with Palamon as they work.
4
Gr. Naz., Or. 43.23.4 (Boulenger: 108).

110
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 111
as was famously claimed of Antony.5 Instead, he is presented as a model
for the assiduous study of scripture, which he meditated upon “by heart,”
through both reading and writing.
One of the first tasks for new disciples in a Pachomian monastery was
to learn basic reading and writing, if necessary, in order to facilitate their
study of scripture.6 Scattered references to libraries and scribal culture, as
well as evidence for elementary instruction in reading and writing, suggest
high levels of literacy in cenobitic monastic culture.7 Yet the goal of such
paideia was far removed from the traditional literary instruction of the
Roman Empire.8 The primary objective was not civic advancement, but
rather the memorization of passages that could be repeated throughout the
day, whether carrying out a labor assignment, participating in collective
prayer, or negotiating a temptation through interior dialog.
While memorization was achieved largely through reading and writing,
it was also closely linked to the strong oral component present in monastic
culture.9 On the one hand, disciples needed to have Psalms ready to recite
during the formal and informal times for meditation within the cenobitic
schedule. On the other, progress in virtue was marked by the acquisition
of a more generalized scriptural speech: as Basil of Caesaria noted, “there is
a tone of voice and a symmetry of speech and a fittingness of occasion and
a particular vocabulary which are fitting for and distinctive of the pious,
which is impossible to learn without having unlearned his former habits.”10
For the less advanced, silence functioned as a prophylactic against harmful
speech of various kinds.11 Basic needs, for instance communication at the
dinner table, could be expressed through gestures, further eliminating the
need for non-biblical speech.12
5
V. Ant. 72:1 (SC 400: 320). On the question of Antony’s literacy and its significance, see, e.g.,
Rubenson 1995, 141–144; Cribiore 2013, 66–69.
6
At least some monks, such as Theodore, had already received at least a grammatical education before
entering the Koinonia: see V. Pach. SBo 31 (CSCO 89: 33).
7
For a recent overview of literacy among Egyptian ascetics, see Wipszycka 2009, 361–365. Larsen 2013
persuasively traces connections between monastic education and the progymnasmata, with a focus
on the Apophthegmata Patrum and the chreia.
8
On monastic paideia more generally, see further the ongoing work of the Early Monasticism and
Classical Paideia project, directed by Samuel Rubenson at Lund University: http://mopai.lu.se/.
9
The orality of monastic culture, especially in the semi-eremitic communities of Nitria, Kellia, and
Scetis, has been emphasized in Burton-Christie 1993, 129–140. For the combination of orality and
textuality in the Pachomian community, see Graham 1987, 129–131. Stroumsa 2008 argues cogently
that early Christianity was a book culture despite the concurrent importance of the spoken word
(68–69).
10
LR 13 (PG 31: 949). Cf. Theo., Instr. 3:14, which juxtaposes human and divine speech.
11
Bruce 2007, 28–37.
12
A “sound” (sonitu) perhaps a bell, is prescribed in Pach., P 33 (Boon: 21), with the same terminology
found in Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:17 (SC 109: 144). RM 30 (SC 106: 164–166) allowed for gestures of
112 Cognitive Disciplines
In short, disciples learned, recited, and listened to Scripture within what
Charles Hirschkind has called an “ethical soundscape,” an auditory envi-
ronment in which the hearer adopts the “ethical dispositions correspond-
ing to the recited or audited verses: humility, awe, regret, fear, and so on.”13
While the inexperienced were urged not to talk, diverse forms of speech,
both salvific and harmful, frequently punctuated the silence of the ceno-
bium. Horsiesius calls scriptural words “sweet,” and Theodore encourages
his disciples to have “speech seasoned with salt.”14 The impassioned oratory
of monastic leaders was expected to produce a strong emotional response
in disciples, ranging from joy to fear. Shenoute vividly contrasts the divine
communication of Jesus, who “speaks with them in a great voice in all the
Scriptures,” with the demonic kind, which manifests itself softly “in whis-
pers.”15 While monastic orators were important mediators of Scripture,
disciples could replay verses to themselves through either silent meditation
or spoken recitation, adding further texture to the monastic soundscape.
But how did new monks focus on what was salient for their own devel-
opment amid the complex cacophony of divine and demonic speech? Was
it difficult for disciples, whether or not they had previous knowledge of the
Bible, to achieve an intimate connection with a text? Some insight can be
found in Brian Malley’s study of the spread of “Biblicism” among American
Evangelicals in dialog with cognitive “relevance theory.” Relevance theory
posits that the human mind has been hardwired to identify and focus upon
information of immediate personal interest during communication.16 As
an anthropologist, Malley is not concerned with questions of evolutionary
psychology, but rather how the Bible is made relevant to people; he identi-
fies several factors, including the brief presentation of biblical verses and
their significance, as well as the encouragement of meditative practice.17
Early monastic groups, most notably the Koinonia, also presented
Scripture in the concise form of a catechesis for easy consideration, and
offered other institutional support, such as instruction in reading and writ-
ing. But monks themselves had to do a great deal of “heart-work” in order

head, hand, or eye to communicate during any period of silence. A developed sign language first
appeared in the early medieval period: see Bruce 2007.
13
Hirschkind 2009, 80.
14
Hors., Test. 43, Theo., Instr. 3:8.
15
Shenoute, Canons 4, (CSCO 42: 28). Elsewhere, Shenoute describes undisciplined monastics “whis-
pering” challenges to his authority (e.g., Canons 2, discussed in Krawiec 2002, 33). In his study of
Islamic cassette sermons, Hirschkind 2009, 71 describes how “tapes enable a strengthening of the
will and what many people refer to as an ability to resist the devil’s whispers (wasawis).”
16
For the cognitive theory of relevance, see Sperber and Wilson 1995, 118–171.
17
Malley 2004, 153–154; Malley, however, does not describe the meditative process in detail.
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 113
to make the Bible personally relevant: learning how to transcribe and inter-
pret passages; listening intently to their recitation, in disciplinary, litur-
gical, and meditative contexts; and discussing their meaning with other
members of the monastic house after group catechesis. Gradually, scripture
was “written on the heart,” playing a key role in the new monastic theory
of mind: disciples could draw on them during internal deliberations, iden-
tifying a particular verse as spoken by God to themselves (“oracular”), and
adopting others as their own voice (“prosopopoeic”). Especially in times
of cognitive turmoil, the Bible – whether spoken aloud or silently recalled,
whether audited externally or internally – could play a stabilizing role.

I. Scriptural Instruction

Learning to Read and Write

While some novices were already literate when they entered a monastery,
others needed basic instruction: according to Pachomian Precept 49, when
a prospective monk is waiting at the gatehouse to be interviewed for admis-
sion, he is taught “the Lord’s prayer and as many of the Psalms as he is able
to learn.”18 Although this passage does not specify whether the instruc-
tion was oral or written, Precept 139 of Pachomius, which is preserved in
Jerome’s Latin translation, is much clearer on this point:19
Whoever has entered the monastery unformed (rudis) will first learn what
he ought to observe, and, when, being taught, he has consented to all
things, will be given twenty psalms or two epistles of the apostle, or part of
another scripture. And if he is ignorant of letters, at the first, third and sixth
hours he will go to the one who can teach him and who has been assigned
to him, and he [the novice] will stand in front of him [the instructor], and
he will learn most studiously with every act of gratitude. Indeed later they
will write for him the elements of the syllables (syllaba), verbs and nouns,
and even if he is not willing he will be compelled to read.
Strikingly, this rule insists that all must learn to read, which is consistent
with a study suggesting a relatively high rate of literacy in the monasteries,
at least among the leaders.20 While we certainly cannot assume universal

18
Pach., P 49 (Boon: 25).
19
Pach., P 139 (Boon: 49–50).
20
Merkelbach 1980, 291–294, a study of various conciliar documents signed by “monastic superiors”
(hēgoumenos). On one, submitted to the Council of Constantinople in 536, only nine of the 139
signatures were written by others. In four of these cases it is explicitly noted that this is because the
superior does not know letters or is “barely literate” (oligogrammaton).
114 Cognitive Disciplines
literacy in these communities, a number of rules do present monastic life
as an education. Similar regulations can be found in a wide variety of
regions, including Arles in the West, and in East Syria the Rules of Dadīšō‘,
which make literacy a requirement for admission.21
The injunction in the Pachomian precepts that the monk “will be
compelled to read,” reveals the compulsory and hierarchical manner in
which basic literary instruction was conducted.22 Indeed, the relation-
ship between the child-student and pedagogue came to symbolize the use
of harsh discipline to enforce obedience, which by Late Antiquity had
become a well-developed literary trope.23 Precept 139 alludes to a possible
opposition to learning letters among adult disciples that may have been
rooted in their resistance to being treated like children; and indeed, there is
specific evidence that the education of children was conducted separately
in the Koinonia. Basil of Caesarea’s Rule concedes that it might be neces-
sary to offer children awards for the successful recall of (biblical) names
and events.24 But the youngest monastics were also supposed to be taught
with strict discipline:  Caesarius of Arles’ Rules for Virgins states that they
cannot be admitted to the community until the age of seven, when they
are capable of both reading and obeying.25
The Rule of the Master, an important source on monastic literacy
instruction in the Western context, demonstrates how the process of learn-
ing Scripture unfolded as an act of obedience toward the instructors. The
disciple must recite the scriptural verse before the abbot as if to the divine
judge, and then kiss his knees in a posture of subordination:26
Let other [disciples] study Psalms, which they have written up [for them].
For when they have mastered them and retain them with a perfect memory,
having been led by their deans to the abbot let them recite from memory
the Psalm in question or a canticle or any reading. And when he has gone
through it thoroughly, let him ask for prayers for himself. Then when those
present have prayed for him, the abbot concludes and the one who has

21
Rules of Dadīšō‘ 7: “Every brother who comes to the monastery (to stay there) shall not be received
unless he can read in the books” (trans. Vööbus: 170).
22
Pach., P 139 (Boon: 50).
23
Chin 2007, 111–118.
24
According to V. Pach. S10, frag. 2 (CSCO 99–100: 33–36), children are taught always to bless God
as creator; they memorize scriptural passages (presumably as they learn how to read and write);
and they learn God’s will through his law and the rules of Pachomius. In Crum and Evelyn-White
1973, “Letters” no. 140, a scribe assures his correspondent (perhaps his monastic superior, given the
terminology of humility used) that he’s not copying anything harmful for the boy’s development;
what that might be is not specified, though the reference may be to pagan or apocryphal texts.
25
Caes.-Arel. Virg. 7:3 (SC 345: 186). The related Rule of Aurelian also has a requirement of basic
literacy: Aur.-Arel. Mon. 32 (PL 68: 391).
26
RM 50:64–69 (SC 106: 234–236).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 115
recited kisses the abbot’s knees. Either the abbot or the deans immediately
order a new [passage] to be transcribed, and after something has been tran-
scribed, before he studies it, let him again ask those nearby to pray for him;
and thus let him begin to study [the passage].
The prayers on behalf of the student imply that learning Scripture is not
an independent “gymnastics of the mind,” but an activity requiring both
individual effort and the support of a teacher, through prayer.
The program of monastic instruction described in Precept 139 and other
related texts corresponds quite closely to Graeco-Roman educational prac-
tices, especially as revealed in the numerous papyri, wooden tablets, and
ostraca preserved in Egypt, some from monastic contexts. Literacy instruction
consisted of roughly three stages: preliminary, grammatical, and rhetorical.
While the latter two provided access to elite culture, the first was more practi-
cal, and might be pursued, for example, by workers in low-status professions
for record-keeping.27 Instruction in letters in Pachomian and other monas-
teries consisted of teaching the preliminary stage, which was often provided
by the village grammatodidaskalos.28 As Cribiore has demonstrated, this stage
focused on basic writing skills, followed by reading.29 There is documentary
evidence for this process from various Late Antique monastic sites in Egypt.30
The most extensively preserved evidence is from the Theban mortuary
district, where monks produced a number of documentary and literary texts,
including scriptural exercises.31
These school texts, written on diverse media, attest to instruction in
both Greek32 and Coptic.33 The walls of the monastery of Phoibammon

27
Basic literacy was not limited to the elite; see Papaconstantinou 2014, 17: “John of Lykopolis was a
builder, his brother a dyer, trades which, like many others, have yielded scores of business-related
papyri in Greek.”
28
Cribiore 2001, 160–184.
29
Cribiore, 1996, 9. Bucking 2007, 35 note 55, among others, has argued that non-scribal monastic
education was centered on reading, rather than writing. The evidence that he cites, Pach., P 139–140
(Boon: 49–50), however, is ambiguous and cannot be generalized; see Cribiore 2001, 176–178. In
RM 50:12–13 (SC 106: 224), discussed below, writing is clearly the first step. Bucking 2007, 35 is cor-
rect, however, to emphasize that there was no single normative model for education in Late Antique
Egypt.
30
Cribiore 2001, 24–25. Nevertheless, it is not always easy to distinguish between writings produced
in an educational context and personal texts for scribal practice or pious study. For example, Cell
B of the Monastery of Epiphanius at Thebes, where four ostraca with short Homeric phrases were
discovered: Crum and Evelyn-White 1926, “School Pieces” no. 611–614; and cf. Winlock and Crum
1973, 44. Bucking 2007, 41–42 suggests that these are scribes’ “pen trials,” and that the ostraca con-
taining glossaries and word lists were likely for private reference.
31
See documentary and literary sources collected in Wipszycka 1984; and more recently, see Wipszycka
2009, 361–365. Some of the documents from Theban monastic communities are discussed below.
32
Cribiore 1996, no.  66–67, 122–123, 168, 225–227, 319 (from Epiphanius); no.  19–22, 61, 163–164
(from Phoibammon).
33
Cribiore 2007, 127–130. For a broad collection of exercises in Coptic, see Hasitzka 1990.
116 Cognitive Disciplines
displayed several Greek alphabets, perhaps an aid for disciples beginning
their instruction in letters.34 Ostraca with partial alphabets35 were found
in a pharaonic rock-cut tomb near this site, as well as full alphabets in
regular and reverse order.36 After learning their letters, students moved
on to syllables.37 P. Lit. London 255, a fragmentary papyrus volume of
the Psalms scripted in a trained third- or fourth-century hand, has syl-
lables marked in a second hand, which Bucking plausibly interprets as
a reading exercise.38 The “verbs and nouns” mentioned in Precept 139
probably refer to word lists, which have been found at both the monas-
teries of Epiphanius and the Phoibammon; one ostracon from the latter
includes a list of words beginning in “phi,” including “philanthropos,” a
key word from a Psalm line which has also been copied.39
Precept 139 further describes exemplars written by teachers for the
students to copy. These exercises are attested in the Egyptian monastic
context: for example, a papyrus of Psalm 109:1 written in an experienced
hand  – presumably that of a teacher  – and copied four times by other
competent but less practiced hands.40 Additional texts show only the hand
of the student, who most likely transcribed from a model under the super-
vision of the teacher. O. Sarga 5 includes two copies of John 2:1 by a stu-
dent who visibly improves his or her hand.41 Indeed, repetitive writing also
seems to have functioned as a memory aid: several Coptic texts feature a
passage of the Psalms reproduced several times by a practiced hand, sug-
gesting they were being learned for prayer.42
34
Bataille 1951, no. 101, 185, 187–188.
35
Cribiore 2007, 129 note 15: Apis 3144/Col. Inv. 23.3.748; Apis 3147/Col. Inv. 23.3.710; Apis 3273/Col.
Inv. 23.3.743.
36
Cribiore 2007, 129 note 16:  Apis 3143/Col. Inv. 23.3.741 and Apis. 3720/Col. Inv. 23.3.738,
respectively.
37
Presumably this is the meaning of the expression “elements of syllables” (elementa syllabae) in Pach.,
P 139 (Boon: 50).
38
Bucking 1997, 135–136. On the opposite side of the page is an excerpt from Isocrates, Ad Demonicum
26–28, which leads Bucking to identify the volume as a “sacro-profane schoolbook.”
39
Crum 1902, no.  512. Bucking, 1997, 136–137 also notes as comparable Crum 1902, no.  431; and
Evelyn-White 1926, “Biblical Texts” no. 581.
40
Harrauer and Sijpesteijn 1985, 88, from Psalm 109. Lists of other teacher-student practice texts are
found in Bucking 1997, 137. For Coptic examples, see Apis.691 and Hasitzka 1990, no. 41, 112, 119;
Bucking 2007, 33–34 note 47. For Coptic examples of epistles used as elementary copy exercises, see
Hasitzka 1990, no. 120, 124, 128, 134. Hasitzka 1990 no. 181,183 are teachers’ models: Cribiore 2001,
217, note 149.
41
Crum and Bell 1922, no. 5.
42
E.g. Harrauer and Sijpesteijn 1985, no. 89, no. 180. See also Derda 1995, 41–96 for Psalm exercises.
Psalms could serve as a replacement for classical texts in a Christian educational context; Cribiore
1999, 282. Monks may have used incipits as a memory cue, as suggested by a converted pharaonic-
era tomb at Ḳaṣr eṣ-Ṣaijād near Nag Hammadi, where inscriptions of the beginnings of Psalms
51–93 were painted on the cell’s walls (Bucher 1931).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 117
The Late Antique grammarian Fortunatianus, following Quintilian,
advocates a number of memorization techniques that closely resemble the
preliminary writing exercises in cenobitic monasticism that are intended
to commit to memory the particular verses transcribed.43 Thus, in addition
to a general “attention” of the mind, Fortunatianus recommends writing
passages on a wax tablet, and then reading them aloud, often in a murmur,
recalling meditatio. As in the description of Pachomius’s efforts to learn the
Psalms, he emphasizes the need for “practice and toil.” Though he does not
necessarily have monastic vigils in mind, Fortunatianus believes that it is
best to write and recite at night due to an increased mental concentration,
and so that the passage will be the last thing on the mind before falling
asleep. Finally, he asserts that difficult passages should be marked with
notes. In short, Fortunatianus’s words confirm that in the Koinonia and
other cenobitic communities, monks employed widespread instructional
strategies for committing key passages to memory, as part of their educa-
tion in basic literacy.
Pachomian Precept 140, which declares that “there will be no one at all
in the monastery who will not learn letters and will not retain anything
from the Scriptures: at a minimum the New Testament and the Psalter.”44
This standard – or perhaps ideal – seems to have been in place through the
seventh century, where it appears in a short description of how Pesenthius,
later the bishop of Ermont in Thebes, joined his uncle’s monastery near
the Castrum of Taud. There he commits the Psalms and New Testament
to memory before receiving instruction in transcription and bookbinding,
among other skills.45 In Basilian monasteries, the memorization of four
Gospels was considered a major accomplishment, though the techniques
for achieving this are not specified.46 At times it can be difficult to deter-
mine where the historical testimony ends and the hagiographic imagina-
tion begins in accounts of prodigious memorization: Ammonius, disciple
of Pambo, is said to have committed all of the Old and New Testaments to
memory, along with selections from Origen and other theologians.47
43
Fortunatianus, Ars Rhetorica 3:13–14 (Halm: 128–130).
44
Pach., P 140 (Boon:  50). Perhaps a more realistic goal is found in Hors., Regulations 16 (CSCO
159: 86): “Let us be wealthy in our texts learned by heart (nenapostēthous). Let him who will not take
in much memorize at least ten sections [presumably from the New Testament] and a section of the
Psalter.” Of course, for the dedicated, memorization was an ongoing project: in the Tenth Sahidic
Life, Theodore carries a book he is memorizing “by heart” (apostēthous) (CSCO 99–100: 35).
45
This is commemorated in the Synaxarium of Upper Egypt; see the Arabic text and discussion in
Winlock and Crum 1926, 136.
46
SR 236 (PG 31: 1072).
47
HL 11:4 (Butler: 34). Elsewhere Palladius similarly notes that Pachomians “learn all the Scriptures by
heart” (apostēthizousi): HL 32.12 (Butler: 96).
118 Cognitive Disciplines

Advanced Instruction
While all monks were expected to learn a set of biblical passages, especially
the Psalms, Basil of Caesarea suggested that only those holding leader-
ship positions should be allotted time to memorize and meditate upon
“everything:”48
Because there are two general orders, with different charisms: those entrusted
with leadership and those allotted docility and obedience, I consider that
the one entrusted with the direction and care of many ought to know and
learn everything by heart, so that he may teach God’s will with respect to all
things and show each monk the things incumbent upon him.
It appears that the “care of many” required close familiarity with the Bible
for the instruction of disciples. Similarly, in the Rule of the Master, novices
received basic instruction, while the advanced monks were expected to
study the Bible every day, including some who copied it professionally.
Despite the importance of extensive biblical proficiency for monastic
leadership, there is little evidence for advanced instruction in cenobia.
Pachomius’s training seems to have been entirely biblical, and initially
only in Coptic, as he is said to have learned Greek later, while head of
the Koinonia.49 In the Egyptian context, there is no documentary evi-
dence for formalized advanced instruction in Coptic writing or speaking,
at least in the tradition of Graeco-Roman grammatical and rhetorical
treatises.50 Theodore is said to have had four years of instruction, pre-
sumably with a grammarian; whether in Greek, Coptic, or a combina-
tion of the two, is not specified. He may have been instructed in both
simultaneously.51 No evidence exists that he received formal training in
rhetoric, and his speeches are all in Coptic. Even less is known about

48
SR 235 (PG 31: 1240). Augustine similarly suggests that only those who have rhetorical ability should
be allowed to take time off from manual labor to practice it (Aug., Mon. 21).
49
V. Pach. SBo 89 (CSCO 89: 106); cf. V. Pach G1 95. According to Paralip. 11, Pachomius learns Greek
and Latin through prayer, in order to care for the souls of those who do not speak Egyptian in
private, without an interpreter. See Papaconstantinou 2014.
50
See Cribiore 2007, 130: “The very few Coptic grammatical exercises in [Hasitzka 1990] appear to
be mostly exercises to reinforce penmanship, and in Coptic the systematic study of the language
implied by the Greek grammatical treatises (technai) did not leave any trace;” a similar conclusion
is reached in Cribiore 1999, 2.279–286. For an enlarged list of such texts, see Bucking 1997.
51
An exercise in Bodleian Greek Inscription 3019 contains both a Coptic Psalm and a Homeric para-
phrase, suggesting a bilingual education in which Greek was taught simultaneously, at a more
advanced level than Coptic: Parsons 1970, 135–141. Note also that the large number of bilingual
Greek-Coptic manuscripts, including some of the Psalms, presumes the liturgical use of Greek: see
Nagel 1984.
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 119
Shenoute’s education, despite the many volumes of letters and speeches
that he produced.52
Outside the Upper Egyptian cenobitic heartland, some monastic lead-
ers, such as Basil and Jerome, drew upon the more traditional grammatical
and rhetorical education for elites. Dorotheus of Gaza studied at a major
center of rhetorical training, either Gaza or Antioch, before joining the
monastery at Tawatha; as we have seen, Barsanuphius allowed him to bring
his books into the community.53 Dorotheus recalled the pleasant inten-
sity of his worldly education, and it is likely that he was first attracted to
monasticism because he thought it would provide time spent leisurely in
private study.54 In the midst of his unexpected responsibilities, including
service as a porter and the head of the infirmary, he frequently wrote to his
spiritual advisors, and was later made responsible for all correspondence
with the elderly Abba John.55 His Discourses, which clearly demonstrate
his rhetorical training, enjoyed significant popularity. As with Theodore,
Dorotheus’s prior education clearly facilitated his ability to instruct dis-
ciples as a leader, although there is no explicit evidence that he received
additional training in the monastic community.
Monasteries did provide elites such as Dorotheus with the opportu-
nity to pursue a more in-depth study of scripture, which, at least through
the fifth century, was not included in standard grammatical or rhetorical
instruction. The literary culture in monasteries such as Lérins, which had
a substantial number of aristocratic members, valued the fusion of the
biblical and classical traditions found in the writings of John Cassian. As
Krawiec has convincingly shown, Cassian’s Institutes replicate many top-
ics of the rhetorical handbook, while the Conferences correspond to liter-
ary theory: “In short, Cassian taught a new monastic reading culture that
valued the Bible and his own works but this educational process was no

52
Cribiore 1999, 281–282 attributes the skilled oratory of Shenoute and Besa to a Greek rhetorical
education. Cf. the helpful analysis in Timbie 2016, who suggests prior rhetorical training in Greek,
followed by extensive reading of the Coptic Bible upon becoming a monk. For more on the textual
culture of the White Monastery federation, including the possibilities for Shenoute’s training, see
Dilley, 2017.
53
Barsanuphius compared Dorotheus’s use of monastic books to other brothers’ use of “work manu-
als” (ergocheira): Bars., Resp. 327 (PG 450: 326).
54
Dor., Doct. 10:105 (SC 92: 338–340). See Hevelone-Harper 2005, 62–73, for the events of Dorotheus’s
early monastic career.
55
Dor., Doct. 1:25 (SC 92: 184): “And if a [bad] thought happened to take hold of me, I took my
tablet and I wrote to the old man [Barsanuphius]. . .and before I finished, as I was writing I sensed a
lightening [of the thoughts’ burden] and a benefit, and my freedom from care and rest was so much
the greater.”
120 Cognitive Disciplines
longer limited to producing a skilled speaker but also someone able to
experience sublime prayer.”56
Monastic orators pursued scriptural modifications and expansions that
corresponded to the rhetorical paraphrase (paraphrasis), which was in turn
associated with the progymnasmata, that is, elementary exercises at the inter-
face between grammar and rhetoric.57 According to Aelius Theon, “paraphrase
consists of changing the form of expression while keeping the thoughts.”58
While this suggests a relatively simple rewriting of a given passage, according
to Quintilian, in advanced paraphrase, “it is permitted to abbreviate certain
things, and to embellish the others, if only the meaning of the poet is pre-
served.”59 Interestingly, Athanasius urges to let “no one embellish [the Psalms]
with the persuasive words of the profane.”60 But this is most likely a reference
to the use of non-biblical vocabulary, rather than to the general expansion of
scriptural verse, which was very widespread in monastic rhetoric.
Advanced literary education in monastic communities focused on
scribal rather than rhetorical training. Some disciples produced a codex of
the Gospels for their own personal use, often the only book in their posses-
sion;61 others learned calligraphy (the professional copying of manuscripts)
to support themselves or their community. This latter path is evidenced
by the career of Pesenthius, bishop of Coptos, who joined the monastery
near the castrum of Ṭaud (where his uncle was abbot) at the age of three. He
first memorized the Psalter and the New Testament, and at the age of eleven
was taught calligraphy and bookbinding.62 Evagrius was well known as a
calligrapher specializing in the “Oxyrhynchite script,” and refers to scribal
activity in his works.63 His disciple John Cassian may have himself worked as
a scribe, as suggested by several asides in the Institutes about issues of textual
criticism.64 Calligraphy was also practiced in cenobitic monasticism; for

56
Krawiec 2012, 767.
57
For a basic description of the progymnasmata, see Webb 2001, 289–316. For a recent translation
of selected progymnasmata, see Kennedy 2003. The progymnasmata of Libanius are translated and
discussed in Gibson 2008.
58
Aelius Theon, Progym. 108, trans. Kennedy.
59
Quint., Inst. or. 1.9.2-3 (Russell vol. 1: 210).
60
Ath., Ep. Marcell. 27 (PG 27: 43); cf. Ath., Ep. Marcell. 33 (PG 27: 45).
61
Rapp 2007, 205.
62
Winlock and Crum 1926, 136. On the material culture of writing, see Winlock and Crum 1926, 186–
195. It is recorded that he learned the Psalter, the Minor Prophets, and John; see Life of Pesenthius
(Amélineau 1887: 343).
63
HL 38:10 (Butler:  120). A  papyrus manuscript of the Pauline Epistles may have been copied by
Evagrius; Casiday 2013, 113–114.
64
For a depiction of a “monk-scribe,” see Bénazeth 2000, 110–111. See Boud’hors 2000 on writing
materials.
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 121
instance, Martin of Tours assigned it to his young disciples.65 Shenoute’s
writings suggest that a great deal of organized scribal activity occurred
in both the men’s and women’s communities of the White Monastery,
which sold books under his leadership.66 His successor Besa even speaks
of a scribal class, “those who write and those who produce books.”67 This
scribal activity would have provided the constant exposure to biblical texts
that Basil recommended for monastic leaders.
In addition to calligraphy, work as a notary would have provided train-
ing useful for literary composition; Shenoute, for instance, describes how
he dictated one of his letters in the Canons to a “little brother.”68 Indeed,
the letter stands at the boundary of literary and documentary texts,
and special training in epistolary composition may have been offered in
monastic communities, especially large ones with substantial administra-
tive needs.69 P.  Cotsen 1, an intriguing scribal practice book in Sahidic
with some Greek, includes dual coverage of literary-calligraphic and docu-
mentary exercises; its contents include Apophthegmata Patrum, which may
indicate a monastic environment.70
In sum, while some disciples may have had advanced grammatical or
rhetorical training before entry, there is no evidence for such instruc-
tion within the monasteries themselves. Calligraphy and notarial practice
lacked the elite associations of rhetorical education, and were taught to
both freedmen and slaves.71 In the preface to his translation of Job, Jerome
compares work as a scribe with basket-weaving, thus dissociating it from
the aristocratic notion of otium.72 Thus, monks could achieve an excep-
tional degree of scriptural knowledge through scribal practice, which was
considered work (Jerome), and reserved for leaders (Basil).
65
Sulp.-Sev., V. Mart. 10 (CSEL 1: 120): “No art was practised there, with the exception of scribes
(scriptoribus), to which job only the younger monks were assigned.”
66
See Dilley 2017. On female scribes, including monastics such as Melania the Younger, see Haines-
Eitzen 1998; and Kotsifou 2007, 58–59, with additional papyrological evidence. On documentary
evidence for monastic book production, especially binding and illumination, see Kotsifou 2012a.
Book culture in Syriac monasticism is discussed in Debié 2010.
67
Besa, Frag. 12 (CSCO 157: 35).
68
Shenoute, Canons 2 (CSCO 157: 120); see discussion in Krawiec 2002, 70.
69
Cribiore 2007, 130 emphasizes the practical goals of Coptic education, especially letter writing;
most Coptic scribes would have learned some Greek as part of their training, while some, such as
Theodore and Shenoute, likely had some training in Greek rhetoric.
70
Bucking 2006 describes it as a “professionally produced educational manual” (71), and cautiously
suggests Bawit as the place of composition, given the apparent reference to Apa Apollo (73).
Additionally, Kotsifou notes, “there are documentary papyri, like P.Mon. Apollo 58 and 59, which
are practice-letter formulas that may have been produced for the purpose of scribal training, pos-
sibly for secretaries working in the office of the head of the monastery” (Kotsifou 2007, 57, n. 30).
See also Cribiore 1996, 28–29.
71
On the social position of the notarius, see, e.g., Teitler 1985, 42, 91.
72
Williams 2006, 167.
122 Cognitive Disciplines

Attentive Listening
While the ubiquity of reading aloud in Antiquity is broadly recognized,
scholars have frequently overlooked the importance of listening for self-
formation. Literate disciples not only read and wrote Scripture silently,
they also listened to others read it aloud and discussed it. According to his
Life, Antony listened to biblical passages being recited so intently that he
automatically retained them: his memory thus exercised, he had no need of
books.73 But this is hardly evidence that ascetic culture was primarily oral.
Augustine refers to this passage in his preface to De Doctrina Christiana,
implying that Antony’s act of internalizing the Scriptures through listening
to them was exceptional, and that even those who claim spiritual inspira-
tion for interpreting the Bible learned it by reading.74 Like other monastic
Christians, he recognized the importance of both reading and listening
closely. In a sermon, for example, Augustine exhorts the audience to let
his scriptural speech “dwell in your hearts, let it work in your thoughts.”75
In this monastic soundscape, “listening with attention” was a complex
skill that was often integrated with literary instruction and audition of
sermons, with sustained cognitive effects.76
Burton-Christie has contrasted early monastic orality with the empha-
sis on the written word in Graeco-Roman culture. In fact, basic educa-
tion in classical literature involved not only writing, but also reading
aloud (anagnōsis) and listening (akroasis), as outlined by Theon in his
Progymnasmata.77 Further evidence for the symbiosis of textuality and oral-
ity/aurality is found in the Hermeneumata, a student’s guide in Greek and
Latin most likely produced in third-century Gaul, but reflecting a long
tradition of Graeco-Roman education. A section on classroom vignettes
describes how students transcribe a text from a written model, present
it to the teacher for correction, and then recite it, before beginning the
process anew by taking dictation from another student, which is precisely
the instructional pattern found in Precept 49 and the Rule of the Master.
73
Ath., V. Ant. 3:7 (SC 400: 138). This passage might be seen as an explanation for the far better known
assertion that Antony was “unschooled in letters;” e.g. Ath., V. Ant. 72:1 (SC 400: 320). He had
no need to learn letters, because he was “taught by God” (theodidaktos) by simply listening to the
Scriptures; Ath., V. Ant. 66:2 (SC 400: 308).
74
Aug., Doct. Preface 4 (Green: 4). Augustine notes that some solitaries live alone without copies of
Bibles, based on their “faith, hope, and love;” but he suggests that even they require books to teach
others; Aug., Doct. 1.43.93 (Green: 52).
75
Aug., Serm. (Mor.) 14 (Morin: 646).
76
On “listening with attention,” al-insat, in the ethical soundscape of Cairene Muslims, see Hirschkind
2009, 71.
77
Aelius Theon, Progymnasmata 158 (Spengel: 65).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 123
Quintilian specifically recommends reading small sections aloud, in a voice
no higher than a murmur, as a means of committing them to memory;78
he also believes that listening should be part of the process, although he
is skeptical that hearing a passage only once enables the memorization of
large sections of it.79
In a related technique, monastic orators would often pause for their dis-
ciples to repeat an important phrase. Pachomius exhorted his audience to
assume the voice of Abraham: “Struggle, oh my beloved, and fight against
passions, and say, I will do as Abraham, I will raise [my hand] to God who
is exulted, who made heaven and earth so that I not to take anything that
is yours, from a thread to a shoe lace (Gn 14:22).”80 Similarly, in Theodore’s
Second Letter, written to convene the annual meeting for Remission at
Mesore, he demands that the audience repeat three times the verse, “Power
belongs to the Lord, and His is the mercy,” scrutinizing it carefully.81 Once
again this monastic exercise corresponds to the Graeco-Roman classroom,
in which students would at times simply repeat back (apostomatizein) the
words of the teacher.82 In Instruction 3.6, Theodore tries to lift the morale
of his disciples in the midst of a famine by saying, “let us all say in our
hearts, before God, and with our mouth, ‘Let us not only be bound, but
may we die in every place for the name of our Lord Jesus Christ’ (Acts
21:13).”83 This triple repetition itself constitutes a practice of memorization,
and presumes internalization of the words spoken.
The oral component of instruction in the Pachomian context is evoca-
tively described in the Letter of Ammon, who entered the Koinonia under
Theodore in ca. 351 CE, and was later ordained a bishop by Theophilus of
Alexandria. Ammon had recently converted to Christianity, and on the
advice of a priest from his native Alexandria, joined the Koinonia, where
he spent three years in the Greek house.84 He was most likely already liter-
ate when he entered the monastery, and his account emphasizes learning
through attentive listening. At the moment of his arrival, Ammon witnesses

78
Quint., Inst. or. 11.2.33 (Russell vol. 5: 74).
79
Quint., Inst. or. 11.2.51 (Russell vol. 5: 84).
80
Pach., Instr. 1:53 (CSCO 159: 20).
81
Theo., Ep. 2:2 (Quecke 1975: 431), quoting Psalm 62(61):12. Presumably the letter was read aloud at
the various monasteries to which it was sent.
82
Bonner 1977, 177.
83
Theo., Instr. 3:6 (CSCO 159: 42–43). Cf. the description of novices repeating scripture “either in
their mouth or in their heart” in V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99–100: 35).
84
Libanius recruited and attracted students to his beginning classes in rhetoric through a similar net-
work; Cribiore 2007a, 83–110. In the case of Ammon, however, we see a student of the metropolis
leaving for a more remote education.
124 Cognitive Disciplines
Theodore teaching the entire community, and reciting scriptural verses to
some of the monks. After the meeting adjourns, the monks return to their
houses, where they are asked to repeat scriptural verses by Theodore and
their accompanying explanations. Ammon notes the effect of this prac-
tice on retention: “And thus, having listened to each of the twenty [house
members], and after them both Ausonius and Theodore the Alexandrian
[the house masters], reporting what they remembered, going through it
in my heart (Lk 2:19), I  was able to remember these things that I  have
written.”85 Thus, for Ammon, the soundscape of the Koinonia offered a
unique opportunity for committing scripture to memory.
Ammon’s account is confirmed by other Pachomian sources. The First
Instruction begins with the exhortation, “My son, listen and become
wise.”86 According to the biographical tradition, Theodore listened “with
great focus and vigilance” to the teachings of his superiors already as a
young anchorite.87 Horsiesius describes the practice of attentive listening
in some detail:88
When the signal is given for us to sit down, and we also sign ourselves on
the forehead in the shape of the cross, and we sit down, and we give our
hearts and our ears to the holy words being recited, as we have been com-
manded in Holy Scriptures: “My son, fear my words, and having received
them, repent” (Pr 30:1); and again, “My son, pay attention to my wisdom
and incline your ear to my words” (Pr 5:1).
Besa suggests that such concentrated audition leads to “writing” on the
heart: “Let us turn our heart to teaching and prepare our ears for the words
of perception (cf. Proverbs 23:12); and let us write them on the flat surface
of the heart. . .”89 Conversely, the ethical soundscape also included harmful
listening practices, as vividly described by Pachomius: “But as soon as your
enemy, namely the devil, whispers in your direction, you turn your ear
towards him, and he pours his filth down into it, and you open your heart
and you swallow the poison he has cast at you.”90

II. Monastic Rhetoric

Scripture frequently took center stage in monastic rhetoric, from the
“spiritual” interpretations in Pachomian catechesis to Jerome’s Homilies
85
Ep. Am. 7 (Goehring: 129).
86
Pach., Instr. 1:1 (CSCO 159: 1); cf. Pr 23:19.
87
V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 30).
88
Horsiesius, Regulations 10 (CSCO 159: 84–85).
89
Besa, Frag. 12 (CSCO 157: 82); cf. Pr 23:12 and 7:3.
90
Pach., Instr.1:28 (CSCO 159: 11).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 125
on the Psalms delivered to his community at Bethlehem.91 In Clement of
Alexandria’s Pedagogue and Augustine’s On Christian Doctrine, this bibli-
cal style of speech is approached from a theoretical perspective, drawing
upon earlier Graeco-Roman discussions of rhetoric. Clement distinguishes
between several roles of the Logos: as a teacher, on the one hand, explain-
ing doctrine;92 and as a pedagogue, on the other, delivering advice
(symbouleutikos) through both protreptic and encomiastic speech.93 This
clearly draws on Aristotle’s tripartite division of forensic, advisory, and epi-
deictic speech, with “dogmatic” speech replacing the “forensic.”94 Augustine
offers a strikingly similar typology of Christian rhetoric, in this case based
on Cicero (De oratore 101): pedagogic, which requires a “restrained” style;
praise and blame, which warrant an “intermediate” style; and finally pro-
treptic, associated with the “grand” style.95 Both authors, then, distinguish
between pedagogy, advice (protreptic), and praise/blame (encomium). In
the following section, I explore examples of instruction and advice in the
monastic environment; praise and blame will be discussed in the context
of monastic biographical discourse in Chapter 6.
Despite the significant amount of time that was devoted to learning
scripture by heart, the task was extremely difficult due to the large number
of expressions – whether in Greek, Latin, Coptic, or Syriac  – that were
not used regularly in everyday speech. It is likely that many disciples did
not completely understand certain passages, including those that they had
memorized. Yet according to Abba Poemen, biblical recitation was power-
ful even without the speaker’s full comprehension:96
The magician does not understand the meaning of the words that he speaks,
but the animal hears, understands, submits, and bows to them. So also with
us: even if we do not understand the meaning of the words that we speak,
the demons hear them, and flee in fear.
Just as biblical speech was thought to frighten demons, it could have a
dramatic emotional effect on the disciple, independently of its meaning,
especially when delivered by a charismatic leader.
91
For Christian homiletics in Late Antiquity more generally, see Olivar 1991; Maxwell 2006; Allen,
Neill, and Mayer 2009. The central role of instruction in scripture for female monastic authority is
explored in Albarrán Martínez 2013, 56–57.
92
Clem., Paed. 1:2 (Marcovich: 2).
93
Clem., Paed. 1:89 (Marcovich: 55); see discussion in Glad 2004, 449–452.
94
Glad 2004, 449, n.  44 refers the reader to ps.-Aristotle Rhetorica ad Alexandrum 1421 b9, but
Aristotle, Rhetoric 1:3 1358b (Ross: 13) is a better fit, since Aristotle, like Clement, divides advisory
speech into protreptic and apotreptic.
95
Aug., Doct. chr. 4.17.4 (Green: 238–240).
96
History of the Egyptian Solitaries 184 (Nau: 272). Athanasius mentions a similar tradition in which
Israelites drive away demons by simply reading from the Scriptures, warning that demons mock
those who change their words: Ath., Ep. Marcell. 33 (PG 27: 45).
126 Cognitive Disciplines
Ammon for his part vividly relates the impact of Theodore’s affective
speech in his Epistle:
And afterwards, whenever I heard the voice of the holy Theodore, even at a
distance, I was filled with either joy, or grief, or fear. And amazed, I inquired
about whichever of these I experienced, and I learned that others too expe-
rienced the same thing as I.97
Elsewhere, he notes: “And having heard Theodore’s voice, I was so fright-
ened that I started to sweat, even though it was winter and I was dressed
in only a flaxen cloth.”98
Such descriptions of the strong emotions provoked by monastic rheto-
ric recall Charles Hirschkind’s analysis of sermon audition in the “ethical
soundscape” of contemporary Cairo. Hirschkind describes the multifac-
eted responses – bodily, emotional, and cognitive – that listening to a ser-
mon in this context provokes:  “affective-volitional dispositions, ways of
the heart, that both attune the heart to God’s word and incline the body
toward moral conduct.”99 In other words, the listener learned to associ-
ate particular passages of the Qur’an with corresponding pious emotional
states and bodily habits.
A lengthy passage of the Great Coptic Life describes the nature and
effects of Theodore’s monastic catechesis, which he offered while sitting,
and the more emotionally charged speech he delivered while standing. Its
importance merits a quotation in full:100
While he was sitting and instructing the brothers, they would ask him about
the interpretation of many of the sayings which he spoke, because they did
not understand them on account of the depth of their thought. On the
other hand, while he was standing, no one questioned him except the inter-
preter alone, according to the rule that was established from the beginning.
But they stand in all knowledge, taking in everything that he says. They
were standing house by house, each according to its rank and order, while
each housemaster stood in front of his men. And the seconds would also be
standing behind them, watching the brothers lest someone be absent. This
is how they stood, in order, listening to the words of God. For it was truly
a marvel to see them, how they burned towards the words of God which he
spoke. For the brothers of the Koinonia are like an assembly of angels. As
they stand next to one another, each one listens to what cuts him as well as
to that which is fulfilled in him. The eyes of some are full of tears because of

97
Ep. Am. 8 (Goehring: 129).
98
Ep. Am. 17 (Goehring: 136).
99
Hirschkind 2009, 9.
100
V. Pach. SBo 188 (CSCO 89: 174–175).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 127
the rebuke that they receive, as they set it in their hearts to establish them-
selves as holy for God. For others, whose consciences are at rest because they
have done as well as they could, the words of God are a further incitement
to their regimen and to pleasing God. After he finished instructing them,
most would prostrate themselves while the brothers prayed. They would
weep profusely, saying in their heart, “We are not worthy to stand and to
pray with the brothers.”
The first scenario, in which all are sitting and dialog is allowed, suggests the
kind of explications of biblical imagery found in Horsiesius’s Catecheses.
In the second scenario, Theodore stands and addresses the assembled
monks, who stand at attention silently as their superior delivers the “word
of God.” The focus of this impassioned speech is a stinging rebuke, which
leaves most disciples weeping and lying prostrate in repentance by the end.
While in classical rhetoric the rebuke is sometimes recognized as a benefi-
cial mode of protreptic speech, alongside consolation, in cenobitic monas-
ticism it has a central significance. I  will now explore how this rhetoric
of ekpathy aligns the emotions of the orator and the audience in order to
provoke a change in the behavior, decisions, or opinions of the listeners,
even (and perhaps especially) for those who resist the speaker’s message.

The Rhetoric of Ekpathy

Monastic impassioned speech is closely related to what Clement calls “advi-
sory speech” and Augustine the “grand style.”101 In On Christian Doctrine,
Augustine offers an example from his own personal experience in Caesarea,
Mauritania, where he sought to convince the citizens to avoid violent civil
strife:
I indeed proceeded, as much as I was able to, in the grand style, in order to
eradicate and expel so cruel and chronic an evil from their hearts and their
habits by my speech. Yet I  did not think I  had achieved anything when
I heard them applauding, but rather when I saw them crying.102
The task of provoking repentance and thus changing behavior was accom-
plished especially through an appeal to emotions. Theodore, in particu-
lar, was revered for the striking, affective force of his oratory, as we have
seen in Ammon’s evocative claim: “Whenever I heard the voice of the holy

101
Aug., Doct. chr. 4.19.38 (Green: 244): “But when something must be done and we are speaking to
those who ought to do it but are unwilling, then the important deeds must be described in the
grand style, in a way suitable for moving minds.”
102
Aug., Doct. chr. 4.24.53 (Green: 270).
128 Cognitive Disciplines
Theodore even from afar, I  was filled with either joy, or grief, or fear.”
Much like Augustine’s performance in Mauretania, Theodore’s oratory
is portrayed as an overwhelming affective force rather than a persuasive
appeal to reason.103
This rhetoric of ekpathy has some important precedents in classical the-
ory, including Plato’s program for a philosophical rhetoric (psychagogia) in
the Phaedrus, which proposes an appeal to emotions as well as reason.104
Similarly, Aristotle’s Rhetoric provides definitions for a number of emotions
and their opposites (for example, anger/calmness and fear/confidence),
suggesting strategies for arousing them in the audience, a skill he deemed
especially important for forensic oratory.105 Later authors on rhetoric sim-
ilarly emphasize the need to employ pathos. Quintilian, for example, rec-
ommends trying to elicit the “vehement” (concitatos) emotions, which he
contrasts with appeals to character:  pathos commands (imperare), while
ethos persuades (persuadere).106 In another passage, he expands upon the
overwhelming strength of oratorical pathos, which “lords it over” (dom-
inatur) the audience and “penetrates” (penetrat) it with emotion.107 Ps.-
Longinus’ treatise On the Sublime similarly contrasts persuasion with the
powerful effect of the speaker’s emotion, which “enslaves” the listener.108
One of the “vehement” emotions was pity, which Menander Rhetor, writ-
ing in the fourth century CE, suggests that ambassadors should provoke in
the audience with their orations.109 According to Philostratus in the Lives
of the Sophists, Marcus Aurelius was so moved by Aelius Aristides’ letter on
behalf of the city of Smyrna, which had been destroyed by an earthquake,
that he wept.110
While these classical descriptions of rhetoric imply that the speaker feels
the emotion conveyed to the audience, it does not concern itself with the
origins of this emotion. By contrast, in monastic rhetoric, the speaker is
generally afflicted with grief due to the sins of the community, and the
goal is to communicate this grief so that the disciples will repent. Thus,

103
For emotional contagion in early monastic communities, see further Crislip 2017, 356–357, noting
the concept of the “emotive” in Reddy 2001, 63–111.
104
Plato, Phaedrus 261a7-9. See Kennedy 1983, 180–186 for a more general discussion of Christian
rhetoric in the context of Graeco-Roman traditions.
105
For the connection between psychagogy and rhetoric in Aristotle, see Kennedy 2001, 13–14.
106
Quint., Inst. or. 6.2.9 (Russel vol. 3: 48).
107
Quint., Inst. or. 8.3.62, 67 (Russell vol. 3: 374, 378).
108
Ps.-Longinus, On the Sublime 15:9 (Russell: 23). Cf. Webb 1997, 117–119.
109
Menander Rhetor, On Epideictic Speeches 13:297–298 (Spengel: 423–440); Russell and Wilson 1981,
180. See the discussion in Webb 1997, 114–115.
110
Philostratus, Lives of the Sophists, “Aristides” 2:252–253 (Kayser: 87). For the importance of tears in
Christian oratory, see below.
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 129
following the revolt against Horsiesius, Theodore is ill because of the “great
grief (emkah enhēt) in his soul.”111 Nowhere is this more evident than in
Shenoute’s speeches in the Canons, which continue the monastic tradition
of impassioned speech exemplified by Theodore. In Canons 1, Shenoute
relates the rhetorical display that the “First Father” (Pcol) used in order to
shame his audience: “For you always saw him as he stood in your midst,
speaking the word of God, striking his face because of your wickedness,
crying out with his hands on his head, ‘Woe is me, my children! Woe is
me, my brethren! Woe is me! The works of the hands of God have per-
ished.’ Don’t all the words which he spoke to you in his mercy cry out
in your ears until now?”112 As in the description of Theodore in the Great
Coptic Life, Shenoute recalls how the “First Father” exhorted the congre-
gation to repent using biblical speech.
Shenoute’s own rhetoric of ekpathy is on display throughout his works,
especially in the Canons, which were directed at his monastic community.
In a long address from Canons 4, Shenoute repeatedly urges repentance
through his own impassioned speech. He addresses his opponents ironi-
cally, speaking as if they were without sin, and opines: “Therefore, it is not
necessary to compel you with grief (lypē) and tears.”113 Later in the same
work, in an account of a series of confrontations with his opponents, he
offers a programmatic description of his rhetoric of ekpathy:114
For many times we spent half the night, until the hour of dawn; and we have
spent half the day, until noon; and we have spent the entire day, speaking
and blaming; and talking and rebuking; entreating, consoling, and bless-
ing; cursing and contending; speaking hostile words and uttering peace-
ful words; being savage and yet also gentle; being mild and long-suffering,
while offering love in exchange for [the opponents’] anger; yet also being
short-tempered, with disturbance and anger; while crying tears, yet  also
laughing, in consolation, in the fear of God.
Shenoute’s passionate intensity is on full display here. The initial empha-
sis is on blame and rebuke, and establishing these as the overall rhetori-
cal tenor. Yet he projects combativeness and conciliation simultaneously,

111
V. Pach. SBo 193 (CSCO 89: 183).
112
Shenoute, Canons 1, unedited (FR-BN 1302 f 89r). Similarly, Theodore explains to the leaders who
rebelled against Horsiesius that they have negated the “prayers and tears” that Pachomius offered
on behalf of the Koinonia. The monastic association of crying with grief was not universal in
Graeco-Roman antiquity, as tears might encompass a wide variety of culturally determined mean-
ings: see the essays in Fögen 2009.
113
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117).
114
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 148). He also uses the metaphor of weight to describe his rhetoric,
distinguishing between “hard and heavy words” and “soft and light words” (p. 149).
130 Cognitive Disciplines
describing a full panoply of emotions from anger to love as he alternates
between rebuke and consolation, curses and blessings, laughter and cry-
ing. In contrast to classical psychagogy – which recommends as a remedy
for sin either rebuke or consolation, based on the particular needs of each
disciple – Shenoute shifts repeatedly between both emotional registers in
the same address.115 He speaks to the congregation as a whole, urging all
disciples to repent in order to attain salvation.
Specific examples of Shenoute’s rhetorical strategies are found through-
out the Canons. Rebuke took a number of forms, ranging from prophetic
warnings, to lengthy parables with expanded biblical imagery, to direct
insults and curses.116 These different forms were at times combined, as in the
following declaration that Shenoute makes against one of his challengers:117
On account of this I said to him in anger and rage through God, “If, hypo-
crite, you are making progress as a monk, your words and your ordinances
are true, and mine are lies. And those who want to understand, if they seek
they will find that tree uprooted, with its branches, from the places in which
they thought it had taken root; and planted in the salty and inhospitable
earth, from which it was first taken. And thus it has become in that place
like a dog who has returned to its vomit, and is hated.”
Shenoute thus combines an insult (“hypocrite”) with a brief parable
related to the biblical parable of the sower (Matthew 13), suggesting that
his opponents have left the monastery (“been uprooted”), and returned to
the “salty and inhospitable” ground of the secular world, like a dog return-
ing to its vomit. He assumes this authoritative biblical voice in order to
condemn his opponent; not surprisingly, a monk who left the congrega-
tion complained that the archimandrite “cursed” him with parables.
Shenoute sometimes alludes to the violence of his speech, declaring that
it is spoken “in anger and rage,” but “through God.” Although the harsher
comments are often directed at specific opponents  – whether explicitly
named or not  – they form part of a more general rebuke of the entire

115
Besa, perhaps alluding to this passage, notes a similar emotional range to his teacher’s oratory:
“Many speeches, siblings, of many kinds has our father spoken in great sorrow, whether in grief
(lypē) and anger, whether entreaty and consolation, whether with blessings, whether with curses,
desiring that we escape the judgement of God and that we be saved from the wrath which will be
revealed from heaven, because we are his sons, and we are the creation of the hand of God” (Frag.
12, CSCO 157: 29–30).
116
He does curse them: “All the curses of the Scriptures will come down on them and they will come
under eternal reproach, as it is written; and disturbance and amazement and pain and groaning;
and the working of demons will become lord over them, and they will become servants to them
[the demons]” (Canons 4, CSCO 42: 124–125).
117
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 131
monastic body that calls for its repentance.118 Some monks resented this
aggressive style, interpreting it as a personal attack rather than beneficial
chastisement:  for example, some contemplate leaving, because they feel
that “all the words of blame and curses are directed at them.”119 Elsewhere
Shenoute notes a similar complaint against him from monks leaving the
community: “You curse me with parables when you open your mouth to
speak in the name of the Lord through the Scriptures.”120
Shenoute used bodily postures and gestures to communicate the over-
whelming anxiety he faced as a result of his feeling of responsibility for
the monastery’s salvation. Ancient rhetorical theorists viewed such gestures
made by orators as a key means for affective communication.121 According
to Quintilian, gestures not only reflected the interior emotions of the
speaker, but could in turn influence those of the audience.122 Movements
of the head, arms, and hands demonstrated a range of positive or nega-
tive emotions, from admiration to indignation, shame, and doubt.123 For
example, Quintilian asserts that exhortation is expressed with the hand
“in a hollow form, fingers apart and raised, with some motion, above the
top of the shoulder.”124 In order to show repentance and anger, Quintilian
recommends pressing a hand against the chest.125
Shenoute expressed his repentance not only through gestures and tears,
but also dramatic self-abasement. He recounts these strategies in another
lengthy description of his rhetoric of ekpathy, addressed to the entire
monastic congregation:126
For look with your eyes at the wretchedness of this man who weeps
[Shenoute], as he stands in your midst, crying out in the affliction of his
soul, like a woman about to give birth. Why is this man crying? And why
are you, for your part, weeping, from your old men to your children, from
the sixth hour of the night until the light comes up? And why did this man
spread himself out in your midst on the earth, being unable to stand, while

118
For the associated ritual of repentance, see Chapter 7.
119
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 118). Shenoute does not deny the charge, but rather affirms it: “Let
rebuke and curses and reproach pierce the intestines and innards of those who say “all these things
were said against us,” because in truth they were said on account of them” (Canons 4, CSCO
42:120).
120
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42:141). See further the discussion in Chapter 7.
121
Drawing on the early 20th-century French ethnologist Marcel Jousse, Hirschkind notes that ges-
ticulations “constitute a substrate of latent tendencies, dispositions towards certain kinds of action
operating independently of conscious thought” (Hirschkind 2009, 78).
122
Quint., Inst. or. 11.3. 65–97 (Russell vol. 5: 118–134); see Graf 1992.
123
Quint., Inst. or. 11.3.71 (Russell vol. 5: 120–122).
124
Quint., Inst. or. 11.3.103 (Russell vol. 5: 138).
125
Quint., Inst. or. 11.3.104 (Russell vol. 5: 138).
126
Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau: 2.298–300).
132 Cognitive Disciplines
you gathered around him, as he was lying before you, weeping bitterly, unto
death, while your merciful children poured water on him, as they wept;
and he scarcely got up, with effort, because the situation became awkward
(aschēmonei) in your midst, while they guarded him; until he was brought
outside, and he rolled around, crying in a pathway, while those passing by
and sitting nearby looked at him; until he got up and returned to you, as
you gathered together all at once, after we had sat down, gazing and amazed
at the things which God had done for us, the way that he brought down
upon us this great fear, so that we might perceive our evil deeds, and so that
each one of us might send down from his eyes numerous tears.
Shenoute emphasizes the emotional pain in his own soul, evident in both
his tears and distressed movements, including rolling on the floor in the
middle of the congregation. He readily acknowledges having gone to
extremes, and even proclaims that “the situation has become awkward.”
By contrast, Quintilian insists that decorum must be maintained when
using gestures. Thus, he notes about exhortation:  “But the tremulous
movement of the hand in this position, which has been almost generally
adopted in foreign schools, is theatrical.” Furthermore, although the ora-
tor is supposed to show signs of exhaustion at the end of a speech, violent
movements, including shaking of the head or arms, were thought to be
unbefitting of a free, masculine individual.127 Shenoute is instead appealing
to the biblical model of prophets of repentance who are commanded by
God to undergo shocking forms of bodily contortion. Most notably, God
instructs Ezekiel to lie on his right and then his left side as a “sign” to the
people of Israel, whose sin he must bear (Ezekiel 4). Similarly, Shenoute’s
rolling movements cause “this great fear, so that we might perceive our evil
deeds,” leading to repentance and tears.
Honoratus, founder of the monastery of Lérins, provides another
example of an orator who used gestures during impassioned rhetoric. His
disciple Hilary describes the final speech that Honoratus delivers before
government officials as bishop of Arles, noting the strong emotional
impact that the bishop’s gesticulations produce in combination with his
words:128
Meanwhile, he was warning us more with his face, more with his eyes, more
with his thoughts radiating to heaven; for indeed the speech of the reporter
[i.e., Hilary] is unworthy of his inflamed speech, but no less were the words
of the one issuing warning [i.e., Honoratus] worthy of his spirit.

127
Graf 1992, 44–46.
128
Hilar.-Arel. Vit. Hon. 32:8 (SC 235: 158–160).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 133
According to his Life, Shenoute had “deeply sunken and darkened eyes”
from constant weeping.129 While visiting the monastery, a pagan dux
expressed, evidently with sarcasm, his surprise that Shenoute seemed
happy.130 Later readers of the Canons had a clear sense of its impassioned
speech; Shenoute’s successor Besa observed that his words were spoken “in
sorrow” and “grief,”131 or alternatively, “in rebuke, while angry.”132 John the
Archimandrite (roughly a contemporary of Besa) was also struck by the
emotion inherent in Shenoute’s speech, noting in particular his anger: “For
our holy father indeed spoke this in anger and rage, through God.”133
This pained demeanor was common to monastic leaders: Pachomius
was said to be “always terrified and mournful, remembering the souls in
torments.”134 And yet there were alternative approaches to the rhetoric
of ekpathy: Moses of Abydos, an admirer of Shenoute who founded his
own communities near the White Monastery, was known for the con-
stant joy of his visage.135 Another biographical tradition notes, “He was
loved by everyone because his speeches were convincing and we never saw
him angry.”136 As with other forms of impassioned speech, Moses’s upbeat
disposition affected his audience, even in informal situations: “And in his
days, through his joy towards the siblings, and their joy towards him, and
the way they followed him, he would speak to many siblings, as they gath-
ered around him, when he went out from assembly; or when he was seated
at evening, as they gathered around him as he read.”137 This emphasis on
joy suggests that Moses was particularly adept at encouragement, rather
than rebuke.138 On the other hand, even orators known for their grief –
such as Shenoute’s successor Besa – might occasionally offer encourage-
ment, usually as a reminder that God would bless and protect those who
followed his commandments.139

129
Leipoldt 1951: 13.
130
Shenoute Discourses 5 (Emmel 2004a vol. 2, 638–641).
131
Besa, Frag. 12 (CSCO 157: 32): “Did he not speak once again in this same sorrow and this same
grief.” See also Besa, Frag. 3 (CSCO 157: 7), and Besa, Frag. 8 (CSCO 157: 19).
132
Besa, Frag. 3 (CSCO 157: 7).
133
Shisha-Halevy 1980: 169.
134
V. Pach. G1 91 (Halkin: 61). He also displayed anger, such as when he rebuked Theodore for allow-
ing disobedience in the monastery’s bakery: V. Pach. SBo 77 (CSCO 89: 82–83).
135
According to the author of the Life of Moses, the constant joy on his face was a result of a vision
he had of Jesus in the flesh: see Uljas 2011, 378. For more on visions and their role in monastic
progress, see Chapter 5.
136
Amélineau: 2.691–693.
137
CSCO 73: 210.
138
“O man who is entirely sweet like honey, in whom there is no bitterness;” “O the consolation of
Egypt in his generation, Apa Moses” (CSCO 73: 213).
139
Besa, Frag. 14 (CSCO 157: 40).
134 Cognitive Disciplines

Monastic Catechesis
The joy of encouragement and pain of rebuke were frequently commu-
nicated through short instructions (catecheses), usually based on bibli-
cal passages.140 While on diverse topics, Pachomius’s teaching was often
described as “spiritual,” because of its general importance for the care of
souls.141 Many catecheses were ad-hoc oral deliveries, for example dur-
ing work assignments outside the monastery.142 Various anecdotes in
passages from the biographical tradition describe informal sessions led
by Pachomius or his successors, who sat and instructed whoever was
present.143 Biblical homilies were also regularly delivered in monastic
communities: the Pachomian rules call for one on Saturday and two on
Sunday, by the superior; and one on Wednesdays and fast days, by the
housemaster.144 The First Greek Life describes one such regularly scheduled
catechesis by Pachomius, on following the commandments as “spiritual
resurrection,” after which he prays that the disciples remember the relevant
scriptural verses. They return to their houses, where they discuss the hom-
ily further.145
Through the practice of attentive listening, some disciples were able to
memorize the short catecheses and communicate them to others, both
in the houses and beyond the Koinonia.146 While serving as director of
Tabennesi, Theodore frequently visited Pachomius at Phbow, and repeated
the teachings he heard from him there to his own community.147 This double
emphasis on aural retention and oral repetition was intimately connected
to monastic textual culture: scribes wrote down Pachomius’s instructions,
presumably as he spoke them, as well as letters that he dictated.148 Both
140
Theodore was known for both consolation and rebuke:  V. Pach. SBo 183 (CSCO 89: 161–162), V.
Pach. SBo 199 (CSCO 89: 195–196).
141
V. Pach. SBo 46 (CSCO 89:  48); V. Pach. G1 125 (Halkin:  79–80). Origen’s distinction between
literal, moral, and allegorical interpretations is not found in the Pachomian tradition.
142
E.g. V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 89: 96–97), V. Pach. SBo 98 (CSCO 89: 123–124).
143
V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 30–32), V. Pach. SBo 46 (CSCO 89: 48–49), V. Pach. SBo 97 (CSCO
89: 121–122), V. Pach. SBo 183 (CSCO 89: 161–162); V. Pach. G1 56–58 (Halking: 38–40); according
to V. Pach. G1 125 (Halkin: 79–80), this was Horsiesius’s practice after meals.
144
See Veilleux 1968, 269–275. A similar schedule was in place at the White Monastery; see Layton
2008, 76: “Twice a week, we are told, on Wednesdays and Fridays, one of the smaller meetings
[in the individual houses] included a catechesis  – an instruction. And three times a week, on
Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturday nights, one of the great assemblies [of the whole congregation]
also included instruction.”
145
V. Pach. G1 57–58.
146
V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 30), V. Pach. SBo 41 (CSCO 89: 43–44).
147
V. Pach. SBo 78 (CSCO 89: 83–84).
148
V. Pach. G1 99 (Halkin:  66–67). Five very short Coptic instructions, all without a title, two of
them fragmentary, are attributed to Pachomius (CSCO 159: 26–30). These include short edifying
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 135
listening and reading contributed to the internalization of Scripture and its
interpretation, as well as the attendant images and emotions.
Pachomian catecheses usually developed a particularly striking image
found in one or more biblical verses, for example the tabernacle;149 the
soul as a house150 or vineyard;151 the river of Paradise;152 and tears.153 Other
instructions offered new but biblically-based parables, such as a compari-
son of vine and acacia trees.154 The biographical tradition explicitly notes
several other topics that Pachomius used to supplement his scriptural teach-
ing: the wiles of demons,155 biographical reminiscences,156 and descriptions
of post-mortem punishments.157 These notices imply a self-consciously
dual structure to the catechesis: a “canonical” reflection of scriptural pas-
sages, followed by para-biblical materials (including “apocryphal” heavenly
journeys) related to the care of souls.
After Pachomius died, Theodore continued his tradition of spiritual
biblical instruction:158
Whenever he would speak with the brothers from the Holy Scriptures of
the Lord, he interpreted the passage that he would recite for them spiritu-
ally, saying: “This is how our father would explain them to us when he was
still with us in the flesh.”
This presumably referred to both spontaneous and regularly scheduled
instructions. Horsiesius is the author of seven extant Catecheses that were
delivered during the Saturday and Sunday evening meetings according to
manuscript headings.159
points, sometimes scriptural, as in the quotation of Ps. 101:5 in a homily against slander (Frag. 2),
sometimes biographical (Frag. 3).
149
V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 31).
150
V. Pach. SBo 67 (CSCO 89: 68–69); compare V. Pach. G1 75 (Halkin: 50).
151
V. Pach. SBo 104 (CSCO 89: 134)
152
V. Pach. S5 20 (CSCO 99–100: 197); Theodore attributes this interpretation to angelic revelation.
153
V. Pach. G1 62 (Halkin: 42).
154
V. Pach. SBo 187 (CSCO 89: 173–174). Other parables include the narrow, mountainous path to
God: V. Pach. SBo 187 (CSCO 89: 170); the burning lamp: V. Pach. SBo 209 (CSCO 89: 213–214);
and a series of tales comparing different types of monks to seafarers, merchants, and the king’s
eunuchs and servants: V. Pach. SBo 105 (CSCO 89: 135–138).
155
V. Pach. G1 56–58 (Halkin: 38–40). Cf. V. Pach. SBo 67 (CSCO 89: 67–69).
156
V. Pach. G1 10 (Halkin: 7), in which we learn that Pachomius would tell stories about his life along
with recounting the Scriptures.
157
V. Pach. SBo 88 (CSCO 89: 97–101); similarly Theodore in V. Pach. S5 19 (CSCO 99–100: 195).
158
V. Pach. SBo 190 (CSCO 89: 179); cf. V. Pach. SBo 186.
159
With one exception: the introduction to Horsiesius’ Instruction Seven, “On Friendship,” which is
longer than the homilies based on biblical readings, does not state that it was read on Saturday or
Sunday, and is described as an “instructional speech” (shaje ensbō) (Hors., Instr. 7, CSCO 159: 75);
see the discussion in Chapter 5. Other instructions are denoted kathēgēsis [sic] and logos (CSCO
159: 66, 70, 72, 73). A similar terminology is attested in the White Monastery: according to Rule
344 (Layton 2014, 236–237), house leaders “give catechesis (r-katēchēsis) each fast day.”
136 Cognitive Disciplines
While Horsiesius usually begins each instruction by citing a single bibli-
cal verse, which suggests that he is interpreting the liturgical reading, he
continues by quoting other scriptural passages on the same theme, in con-
trast to verse-by-verse exegetical homilies.160 Their relatively short length
and focus make them ideal for provoking discussion in the houses after
the group meeting, as described in the Epistle of Ammon. A survey of these
underappreciated texts will demonstrate how monastic orators developed
the basic components of monastic culture from the biblical text, to be
meditated upon by disciples.161 Some develop images of physical labor (i.e.
agricultural or domestic) or material possessions (i.e. the garment) as sym-
bols of the interior life; the rest cover other key topics related to the salva-
tion of disciples, for example the fear of God and the covenant.
The First Catechesis begins with a quotation of Psalm 34:12–15: “God
calls us urgently through the holy psalmist David, ‘Come, my children,
listen to me, and I will instruct you in the fear of the Lord’.”162 The rest of
the sermon is a moral exhortation on the need for repentance, containing
various allusions to the final judgement and other aspects of the fear of
God, which will be examined at length in Chapter 4. The Second Catechesis
also begins with a biblical quote, namely Genesis 17:2: “God said to the
man of faith, Abraham: ‘Do what is pleasing in my presence, and become
sinless, and I will make a covenant with you’.”163 Horsiesius then encour-
ages the disciples to follow the monastic covenant completed between God
and Pachomius: “But concerning us, siblings, if we do the will of God, and
if we follow the example of our blessed fathers, if we become sinless, God
will watch over us.”164
The Third Catechesis commences with a reflection on Proverbs 3:9–
10: “The Holy Spirit said in an exhortation, ‘My son, honour God through
your labors of love, and give him the first fruits of your righteousness, so
that your storehouses may be filled with wheat, and your vats with wine’,”
and continues with a reflection on the monastic image of agricultural labor
followed by cultivation, as a metaphor for the soul’s moral progress.165 The
160
Sheridan 2007, 25–48. The only extant monastic exegetical homilies are in a series on the Psalms
and on Mark delivered by Jerome to his community at Bethlehem, in which the primary concern is
historical and moral exposition; the monastic life is only mentioned occasionally and tangentially,
and the Bethlehem community in its particulars is not referenced. See Ewald 1964, xxi-xxx.
161
There are several studies of individual speeches, e.g. Timbie 2011.
162
Hors., Instr. 1 (CSCO 159: 66).
163
Hors., Instr. 2 (CSCO 159: 70).
164
Hors., Instr. 2. For the importance of the covenant in monastic self-formation, see the discussion
of Shenoute’s Canons in Chapter 7.
165
Hors., Instr. 3 (CSCO 159: 70). Elsewhere, Horsiesius describes the monastic community as the
“vineyard of the saints;” Hors., Test. 28 (Boon: 129).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 137
Fourth Catechesis begins with a quotation from Proverbs 3:27–28, which
Horsiesius abruptly connects to Ecclesiastes 9:8 and Isaiah 61:10, both of
which describe clothing, the latter referring to the soul as a “garment of
salvation.” The rest of the homily presents another widespread monastic
image, namely spiritual garments acquired through good deeds, which are
contrasted with bodily clothing.166
The Fifth Catechesis explores another metaphor for the soul as a house.
While it does not quote directly from Scripture, it clearly alludes to 2
Chronicles 3:3, which had likely been read earlier:  “The Spirit of God
teaches us, through the wise Solomon, to build the house of our soul upon
a large foundation which is secure.” As in the imagery of vineyards and
clothing, Horsiesius develops this metaphor by positing the soul as a spiri-
tual house, as opposed to the physical one, that must be provided with
“an adornment that is heavenly.”167 Although the beginning of the Sixth
Catechesis is lost, the homily addresses humanity’s utter dependence on
God as a creator, and uses this to motivate disciples to respond to tempta-
tion with prayer.168
While no short, exegetical homilies survive from Shenoute’s corpus, some
writings in the Canons begin with a short biblical quote like the Catecheses
of Horsiesius, perhaps from liturgical readings.169 In a moral exhortation of
approximately the same length as its Pachomian predecessors, Shenoute’s suc-
cessor Besa builds upon a short exegesis from the prophet Jeremiah:170
“Remember the Lord and let Jerusalem come upon our heart,” as it is writ-
ten (Jer. 28:50); and also, “Consider the Lord and you will do all my desires”
(Is. 44:28). For if the person remembers the Lord and Jerusalem of heaven
comes upon his heart, no polluted thought nor any evil will have power
over him.
Although this passage has the usual emphasis on repentance, it ends on a
joyful note, expanding upon the vision of God hinted at in the opening
quote:171 “How much contentment and joy and gladness is in store for
those who will be worthy of these things! It is sufficient that they only see
the Lord sitting on the throne of his glory. . .”

166
Hors., Instr. 4 (CSCO 159: 72–73).
167
Hors., Instr. 5 (CSCO 159: 73).
168
Hors., Instr. 6 (CSCO 159: 73–75).
169
E.g. in Canons 8, So Listen (Pr. 24:8b-10) and My Heart is Crushed (Jr. 23:4), both of which are
discussed in Chapter 7.
170
Besa, Frag. 5 (CSCO 157: 11).
171
Besa, Frag. 5 (CSCO 157: 14).
138 Cognitive Disciplines
According to Theon, the student not only shapes their own mind by
studying the text, but also impresses it upon others, almost forcibly, by
reciting it.172 Monastic catecheses increased this effect with their emphasis
on images, which, according to classical rhetoric, could influence listen-
ers through energeia, or vividness. According to ps.-Longinus’s treatment
of this quality in On the Sublime, particularly striking images (phantasia)
are the most effective way to provoke emotions in the audience: “When,
through enthusiasm and passion, you seem to see what you are speak-
ing about and you set it before the eyes of those listening.”173 Similarly,
Quintilian discusses “what the Greeks call phantasiai. . .by means of which
the images of absent things are shown to our mind in such a way that we
appear to see them with our eyes, as if they were present.”174 He equates
this rhetorical figure with human imaginative capacity more generally, and
also connects it to emotion: “our emotions are as actively engaged as if
present at the events themselves.”
The emotional impact would have been associated with the relevant
scriptural images and interpretations as part of the memory practice.175
Disciples thus internalized a limited set of cognitive schemas, for example
the idea of a soul as a field or house to be cultivated, which were “learned,
internalised patterns of thought-feeling that mediate both the interpre-
tation of on-going experience and the reconstruction of memories.”176
Shenoute’s frequent references in the Canons to the monastic community
as Israel, for example, trigger a number of associations (such as covenant
and repentance) from scriptural memory. Similarly, Horsiesius’s Second
Catechesis compares the monastic covenant to Abraham’s and emphasizes
the importance of being sinless.177 Such associations allow for the easy
communication of a message of rebuke, the associated fear of God, and
the need for repentance. As Lundhaug notes, “Collective practices of uni-
fied memory encoding in each individual monk would ideally make each
and every one of them capable of recalling a significant bulk of internalised
common textual and doctrinal memory when prompted by specific situa-
tions and rhetorical practices.”178 The institutionalization of regular periods

172
Theon, Progym., 170 (Spengel: 71–72).
173
Ps.-Longinus 15:1 (Russell 1968: 21). See Webb 2009, 87–106, and esp. 96.
174
Quint., Inst. or. 6.2.29 (Russell 2002: 3.58–60). See also the discussion in Carruthers 1998, 130–133.
175
On the understanding of connections between emotion and memory in the ancient and medieval
periods, see Carruthers 1998, 14–16.
176
Strauss 1992, 3.
177
This is not to imply that Horsiesius’s Second Catechesis was known to all members of the White
Monastery federation, though its interpretive tradition shared much with the Koinonia.
178
Lundhaug 2014, 114–115.
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 139
for scriptural instruction and discussion made cenobia relatively uniform
“textual communities.”179

III. Scriptural Exercises

Through the ongoing practices of reading, writing, listening, and medi-
tation monks both memorized passages of scripture and learned how to
incorporate them into their daily lives. The importance of these cognitive
disciplines is emphasized in a programmatic statement on biblical spiritu-
ality in the Testament of Horsiesius:180
Let us take care to read and learn the Scriptures, and we will always carry
ourselves in their meditation, knowing what is written:  from the fruit
of his mouth a man will be filled, and he will be given the wage of his
labours (Proverbs 13:2; Wisdom 10:17). These are the words which lead us
to eternal life, which our father gave to us, and ordered us to meditate
upon continuously, so that that which is written might be fulfilled in
us: “These words, with which I command you today, will be in your heart
and in your mind, you will teach them to your children, and you shall
speak concerning them, sitting in your house, and walking on the road,
and lying down and rising. You will write them for a sign on your hand,
and they will stay fixed before your eyes (Deuteronomy 11:18–20). You will
also write them on the doorposts and gates of your houses, so that you
may learn to fear the Lord all the days of your life (Deuteronomy 4:10).”
Solomon also, signifying the same thing, says, “write them across your
heart” (Proverbs 3:3).

This fascinating passage presents Scripture, mediated by Pachomius

(“which our father gave to us”), as salvific. Horsiesius urges his disciples
to fulfill the Deuteronomistic injunction to internalize biblical words “in
your heart and in your mind,” and to “write them across the heart.” Jerome,
who translated this passage, also broadly advocated “writing on the heart:”
in the commentary on Matthew 13:52, he calls the apostles the “scribes and
notarii of the Savior,” who recorded his precepts “on the fleshly tablets of
their heart.”181

179
A term coined by Brian Stock for a community with varying levels of literacy that places special
importance on the teachings of a single interpreter; see e.g. Stock 1983, 90. Stroumsa also adopts
this terminology to describe early monasticism (Stroumsa 2008, 69). Cf. Lundhaug 2014, 107, who
notes that regulating access to texts promoted “as uniform an interpretive community as possible.”
180
Hors., Test. 51 (Boon: 143–144).
181
Hier., Matt. 2:13 (PL 26: 95). Elsewhere, Jerome adduces several biblical texts which relate to “tab-
lets of the heart,” namely, 2 Cor 3:2–3 and Proverbs 3:3; Hier., Abac. 2:2; (PL 25: 1290).
140 Cognitive Disciplines
Writing on the heart could be facilitated by the simple exercise of tran-
scribing scripture. As Quintilian notes:182
I would like that the verses which are set out to be copied should not con-
tain meaningless sentences, but should teach something of value. The mem-
ory of these things remains into old age, and, impressed upon the unformed
mind (inpressa animo rudi) also profits the character.
There is evidence for copying short biblical passages for edification, a
practice difficult to distinguish from calligraphic exercises. For example,
in Cell A of the Monastery of Epiphanius, Moses wrote selections from
the Bible and the monostichoi of Menander onto ostraca.183 Whereas
Winlock understood this as Moses’s scribal activity, Bucking reasonably
suggests that they might also be interpreted as “the result of private study
or devotion.”184 Monks might also cover their walls with biblical verses,
as suggested by Horsiesius: both communal areas and private cells of the
Late Antique monastery at Bawit are full of writing, ranging from spon-
taneous graffiti to planned and expertly painted inscriptions, usually of a
scriptural nature.185
This internalization of Scripture through writing was believed to lead
to the imitation of virtuous biblical characters.186 Athanasius, describing
the effect of the Psalms on the speaker, asserted, “I mold (tupō) myself.”187
The connection between internalization and mimesis can also be traced to
Graeco-Roman educational theorists. Theon, for example, notes regarding
the progymnasmata, “molded (typōthentes) by their instruction, they will be
able to imitate them.”188 The orator Aelius Theon similarly notes the posi-
tive effect of such repeated exercises on the student: “Having molded our
soul from good models, we will produce the best imitations.”189
Horsiesius urged an approach to the Bible that involved not only
the imitation of saints, but constant meditation:  “We will always carry
ourselves in meditation of the [Scriptures].”190 The First Instruction of

182
Quint., Inst. or. 1.1.35-6, (Russell vol. 1: 80). Note the parallel with Pach., P 139 (Boon: 49): rudis.
183
Cribiore 2001, 24–25; cf. Larsen 2013.
184
Bucking 2007, 32. Two ostraca contain the same prayer; Crum and Evelyn-White 1926, “Liturgical
Texts” no. 46–47. Bucking suggests that “perhaps Moses was simply writing the text in an attempt
to commit it to memory.”
185
For more on inscriptions in monastic living spaces, see Dilley 2008, 114–117.
186
On mimesis in cenobitic monasticism, see Chapter 6.
187
Ath., Ep. Marcell. 10 (PG 27: 20).
188
Theon, Progym. 168 (Spengel: 71).
189
Theon, Progym. 151–152 (Spengel: 61). See Webb, 2001, 309.
190
Hors., Test. 51 (Boon: 143). See also Theodore’s statement, “We read from the Scriptures all the time
and we recite them” (V. Pach. SBo 183, CSCO 89: 161).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 141
Pachomius similarly commands, “recite always the words of God.”191 Verses
were “recalled from the heart” (Gk. apostēthizein), and usually pronounced
in a low voice (Gk. meletē, “exercise”).192 The word meletē can mean many
things, including “meditation,” “recitation,” or even “declamation.” In the
present context, the term “exercise” best denotes its active, intentional, and
repetitive character.193 Disciples performed these scriptural exercises while
walking and at work.194 Pachomius ordered monks assigned to the bakery
to recite Scripture together, forbidding them from normal communica-
tion.195 Presumably any memorized verses could be used, although certain
passages were especially appropriate for specific situations; for instance, the
monastic rule could be read at dinner.196
Augustine also recommends that “servants of God” should com-
mit Scripture to memory for recitation while working as a means of
avoiding lewd thoughts, which he associates with manual laborers in
particular.197 In addition to protecting against unwanted cognition, the
recitation or audition of the scriptural verses was considered to have other
positive effects. Thus, Basil recommends, “When it is possible, or rather if
it is useful for the edification of the faith, we praise God with the tongue,
with psalms and hymns and odes, as it is written (Col. 3:16), while putting
our hands to work; but if not, [we praise God] in the heart.”198 Hirschkind
reflects upon the role of sermon audition in ethical formation, especially
during monotonous labor, when it makes use of the body “as a kind of
fluid medium, one animated and traversed by an ensemble of interlinking
movements. . .that in their synthesis and complementarity form the sensi-
tive heart of an ethical listener.”199 The recitation of biblical verses while
baking bread was thus not only an integral way of inscribing them onto
the heart, but of aligning their meaning with habitual corporal practices.

191
Pach., Instr.14 (CSCO 159: 5).
192
For a good recent overview of meletē/meditatio in the Late Antique monastic context, see Burton-
Christie 1993, 122–129; Stewart 1998, 101–103.
193
For an assessment of this multifaceted practice, see Graham 1987, 134:  “Meditation here is not
abstract contemplation but determined “exercise” in the word of God: what the mouth repeats, the
heart should experience, the mind grasp, and the whole being translate into practice.”
194
Pach., P 36–37, 60.
195
V. Pach. SBo 74 (CSCO 89: 78–79); V. Pach. G1 89 (Halkin: 60). For further rules about speech
in the bakery, see Horsiesius, Regulations 39–40 (CSCO 159:  92); and on kneading, Horsiesius,
Regulations 44–47 (CSCO 159: 94–95).
196
RM 24 (SC 106: 123–133).
197
Aug., Mon. 20: “Do we not know in what vanities, and even mostly obscenities of theatrical stories
all workmen give their hearts and tongues, while they do not remove their hands from work?”
(CSEL 41: 564).
198
LR 37 (PG 31: 1012).
199
Hirschkind 2009, 103.
142 Cognitive Disciplines
Disciples also meditated intently upon specific passages, such that
a sense of personal dialog with God emerged. In the oracular mode of
Scripture, verses are understood as divine commands directed personally at
the monk, which could serve as a prophylactic against sin or promote con-
version and repentance. Conversely, in the prosopopoeic mode of scripture,
the disciple assumes the persona of a biblical character by repeating his or
her speech, especially lines addressed to God.
The oracular mode of scripture. In the oracular use of scripture, divine
injunctions are removed from their narrative context, such that they are
spoken directly to the reader or audience, who is compelled to obey them,
even if they are not meant to be universal.200 In some ways, the oracu-
lar mode is related to widespread oracular practices employed through-
out Egypt by both Christians and non-Christians; in the Sortes, passages
from an authoritative text are selected at random, and interpreted in light
of the concerns of the individual consulting the oracle.201 Similarly, when
Theodore is undertaking penance, he picks up a Bible and instantly reads
a prophetic word of consolation.202 While monks might hear oracular pas-
sages from unexpected sources, they were also dictated to them by their
leaders, and gradually learned specific verses to apply to themselves in
situations of temptation, thus inserting divine advice into their cognitive
stream.
The most famous example of removing a biblical command from its
original context and giving it new meaning can be found in the Life of
Antony. Feeling lost after his parents have died, Antony enters a church just
as the priest is reading Matthew 19:21 aloud: “He heard the Lord saying to
the rich man, ‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell all your possessions and give
them to the poor, and follow me, and you will have treasure in heaven’.”203
Although in the Gospel these words are spoken to an anonymous young
man, Antony understands “as if the reading was on his account.”204 Despite
the fact that the statement is in the conditional, he interprets it as a com-
mand, that is, a divine response to his uncertainty, and, unlike the young
man in the Gospel, decides to put it into practice.205

200
See the discussion of Young 1997, about rewritten scripture within early Christian paraenesis, in
which she notes: “[The community’s] identity as God’s people meant that the words of scripture,
even the harsh words, applied directly to Christians” (222).
201
For a description of the Sortes, including Sortes Biblicae, see Luijendijk 2014, 4–7.
202
V. Pach. SBo 94.
203
Ath., V. Ant. 2:3 (SC 400: 132).
204
Ath., V. Ant. 2:4 (SC 400: 132–134).
205
Dorotheus, in opposition to Antony, argues that it is not a direct command; Dor., Doct. 1:12 (SC
92: 166): “Look, he did not say “sell your possessions” as a commandment, but as advice. For he
said, ‘if you wish . . .’ ”
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 143
Even before he hears Jesus’ injunction, Antony is said to have reflected
on similarly themed biblical passages, such as Acts 4:35:
Going forth to the Lord’s house as was his custom, and collecting his
thoughts, he thought about it all, how the apostles, giving up everything,
followed the Saviour, and how in Acts some sold their possessions and
brought their proceeds and placed them at the feet of the apostles for distri-
bution among those in need, and how great is the hope stored up for such
people in heaven.206
Later, when he hears Matthew 6:34 read in church, he donates all property
at his disposal – even his sister’s – to the poor.207 This act is yet another
response to oracular discourse: in the Gospel, the command, “Do not be
anxious about tomorrow,” is directed at the crowds of the Sermon on the
Mount, but Antony understands it as a reference to his own family situa-
tion, specifically their property, although this was clearly not the narrative
context.
The Pachomian sources include a variety of evidence for the oracu-
lar mode of Scripture, including the Letter of Ammon, who describes a
meeting in which Theodore quotes biblical verses to various monks as a
means of revealing their inner condition. No less than ten monks stand at
attention and listen to the scriptural texts, some delivering rebuke, others
offering encouragement. Theodore recites Lamentations 3:27–30 to one
disciple, commenting, “But you, why do you bear reproaches on Christ’s
behalf so miserably?”208 To another monk named Pateolli he proclaims,
“ ‘Bear (pl.) one another’s burdens and thus you (pl.) fulfill the law of
Christ’ (Heb. 10:36). Correct yourself!”209 Finally, to another disciple he
quotes Eph. 6:12 on the combat against armies of wickedness, concluding
it with his own exhortation, “Struggle!” While Ammon does not specify
the particular faults of the monks, the scriptural verses act as a kind of
exteriorized conscience, mediated by Theodore.
The Rule of the Master similarly directs the abbot to recommend biblical
passages that are appropriate for monks who are experiencing temptation:210
Keeping with himself only the brother who is struggling with an evil
thought, let [the abbot] bring forth books and let a divine medicine appro-
priate for his wound be read . . . For example, if [Satan] has suggested forni-
cation, let [passages] be read from various books where God loves chastity.

206
Ath., V. Ant. 2:2 (SC 400: 132).
207
Ath., V. Ant. 3:1 (SC 400: 134–136).
208
Ep. Am. 3 (Goehring: 125).
209
Ep. Am. 3 (Goehring: 126).
210
RM 15:28–33 (SC 106: 66–68).
144 Cognitive Disciplines
If [Satan] often suggests falsehood, let [passages] be read from various books
where God commands truthfulness . . .
In the works of Evagrius of Ponticus, the oracular use of Scripture is
applied in a highly systematic way, especially in the Antirrheticus (“talking
back”), which is organized according to a list of eight vices. Indeed, this
treatise is so remarkably detailed in its list of temptations and correspond-
ing biblical responses that scholars have often associated this practice espe-
cially with him. However, it is also attested in the Pachomian biographical
tradition:  Theodore recommended that monks perform a similar kind of
“talking back” to “impure thoughts” on their own:211
So if a polluted thought rises in your heart, or hatred [towards your sib-
ling]. . .recite in your heart without ceasing every fruit that is written in
the Scriptures, resolving in yourself to walk in them, as it is written in
Isaiah:  “Your heart will meditate on the fear of the Lord,” and all these
things will cease in you. . .
Since Theodore does not mention specific passages, the implication is that
only those with enough scriptural knowledge to choose the right verse
can attempt this exercise.212 Moreover, the practice of “talking back” is
part oracular, part prosopopoeic exercise: the monk is expected to recite
relevant verses, but these are generally divine condemnations of impure
thoughts.
The prosopopoeic mode of Scripture. The other component of the disciples’
imagined dialogue with God comprised what I call the “prosopopoeic”
exercise of Scripture, after the classical rhetorical exercise of prosopopoeia,
in which students assume the voice and manners of literary characters.213
Monks constantly recited the words of biblical characters, above all the
Psalms of David, and in the process literally assumed their dispositions and
emotions.214 This is imitation, or mimesis, through the direct appropriation

211
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99–100: 41). Similarly, Cassian recommends that the phrase “God, come to my
aid; Lord, hasten to help me” (Ps. 69:2) be repeated in all situations, including temptation, in order
to obtain the “perpetual memory of God” (perpetuam dei memoriam); Cassian, Coll. 10:10 (CSEL
13: 297).
212
Some ascetic theorists expressed concern that “talking back” was primarily for advanced monks: see
Guillaumont 2004, 251–253. Specific verses are also recommended in Pach., Instr. 1:12 (against pride
and excessive judgment); and Theo., Instr. 3:6 (when facing taunts).
213
Quint., Inst. or. 1.8.2–3 (Russell vol. 1: 200).
214
For helpful overviews of the use of Psalms by Christians in Late Antique Egypt, cf. R. Layton
2004, 26–27 and Dysinger 2005, 48–61. See also the studies in Andreopoulos, Casiday, and
Harrison 2011.
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 145
of their persona. As Derek Krueger explains, “The monk became Scripture’s
mouthpiece, and the Psalms scripted the monk’s interior self-reflection
and outward self-presentation.”215 In the writings of cenobitic orators such
Pachomius, Theodore, Horsiesius, Shenoute, and Besa, it is difficult to dis-
tinguish between an explicit quotation and an allusion.216
In fact, the Psalms formed the centerpiece of Pachomian instruction
and exercise:  Precept 139 calls for postulants to learn twenty Psalms as a
requirement for joining the community.217 According to Theodore, a monk
can obtain salvation through a single Psalm.218 Athanasius expresses a simi-
lar idea in his Epistle to Marcellinus: the Psalter is a “garden” containing
all canonical works within it.219 He further asserts that during recitation
of Psalms the monk identifies with the emotions  – whether positive or
negative – carried in particular verses: together, they are “a mirror to the
psalm singer, so that he might perceive himself in them and the move-
ments of his own soul.”220 As Cassian notes:221
Receiving in himself all the affects of the Psalms, thus he will begin to sing
(them), not as if composed by the prophet (David), but as if enunciated
by him as his own prayers he will draw (them) out, from a deep compunc-
tion of the heart, and he will think that they have been directed to his own
person, and know that their thoughts have not been completed only then,
through the prophet or in the prophet, but that they are daily carried out
and fulfilled in him.
In short, the cognitive discipline of scriptural recitation entailed a delib-
erate modification of emotion and thought, which were trained to follow
a biblical model.

215
Krueger 2010, 218. Krueger 2010, 217 calls the Psalter “the soundtrack of Byzantine monasticism
from its very origins.”
216
Horsiesius “integrated the scriptural language so completely into his thinking that he simply
expresses his ideas through it” (Goehring 1999, 226); cf. the description of Didymus of Alexandria’s
biblical mimesis in R. Layton 2004, esp. 8–10, 34–37. Brakke aptly describes this phenomenon as
“the scripturalization of the speaking self ” (Brakke 2006, 93).
217
They are also well represented in documentary evidence for education in Late Antique Egypt.
The following texts of the Psalms were probably used for instruction: Cribiore 1996, no. 295, 297,
388, 396.
218
V. Pach. SBo 189 (CSCO 89: 177): “O my siblings, I bear witness to you in the presence of God and
his Christ that a single Psalm may suffice to save us if we understand it well and put it into practice
and guard it;” see Graham 1987, 132.
219
Ath., Ep. Marcell. 2 (PG 27: 12). On this important text, see now Frank 2013. Athanasius was likely
most familiar with the practice of psalmody in Lower Egypt, on which see Dysinger 2005.
220
Ath., Ep. Marcell. 12 (PG 27: 24); cf. Cassian, Coll. 10:11 (CSEL 13: 305). Aristotle makes the same
claim of the Odyssey in Rhetorica 1406b (Kolbet 2006, 95, note 57).
221
Cassian, Coll. 10:11 (CSEL 13: 304).
146 Cognitive Disciplines

IV. Conclusion
The cognitive and affective capacities of disciples were molded in the
monastic soundscape, whether through hearing others recite biblical texts
and adopting a scriptural voice, personally reciting them aloud or in the
heart, or writing them on tablets or papyrus. The first contact with scripture
was through basic instruction in literacy, an explicitly hierarchical activity
under the teacher’s watchful guidance, which also demanded strenuous
concentration from the disciples. Monastic rhetoric similarly emphasized
the leader’s inspired authority, especially his ability to control the emotions
of the audience, who were expected to listen actively. Disciples further
internalized Scripture by meditating upon it in their daily lives, reciting
it in liturgical settings, and discussing regularly scheduled catecheses with
housemates. They were encouraged to imagine themselves in dialogue with
God, framing their inner lives according to a biblical script, while elimi-
nating all negative cognition, whether personal or demonic.
Yet Scripture itself was not sufficient to eliminate evil thoughts: monks
had to employ additional cognitive disciplines, namely the fear of God and
prayer. Though it was not autonomous, Scripture, which was encountered
in a new monk’s initial forays into reading and writing, served as a building
block for the other two disciplines. As Cribiore notes, “alphabetical and
numerical orders were tools used to organise materials, concepts, and sub-
jects to be stored in the mind and retrieved when necessary.”222 Monastic
writers, like other ancient authors, viewed the alphabet (and biblical liter-
acy) as an important first step in the organization of knowledge.
Shenoute thus compares learning the fear of God to moving from letters
to syllables: “Who will learn to write accurately without first beginning the
syllables, and all the other instruction (paideusis) which he learns through
the teacher? Who will be able to escape Hades and the fire that is in it who
has not first taught himself the fear of the chastisements and the com-
mandments which he commanded us, namely the true teacher, Jesus?”223
In particular, monks need to have the guidance of a teacher to learn “the
fear of the chastisements,” a key component of the fear of God. Similarly,
in Cassian’s Tenth Conference, on prayer, Germanus asks Abba Isaac for
advice in practicing the continual recollection of God:224 “For how will any
boy be able to pronounce the simple combinations of syllables unless he

222
Cribiore 2001, 167.
223
Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 11).
224
Cassian, Coll. 10:8 (SC 54: 83).
 Scriptural Exercises and the Monastic Soundscape 147
has first carefully learned the letters of the alphabet?” Isaac soon returns to
the same metaphor, noting how children become accustomed to letters by
copying them on wax tablets and gazing at their shape.225 In the following
two chapters, we will explore how monks trained themselves in the fear of
God and prayer, in the context of cenobitic discipline.

225
Cassian, Coll. 10:10 (SC 54: 85).
 Ch apter 4

Learning the Fear of God

“For previously there were in me things which seemed lacking in

justice, nor did I  think that a higher power saw anything which I
carried inside, secreted away in my heart.” Constantine, Epistula ad
episcopos catholicos1
“[Pachomius] was always meditating on the fear of God, the remem-
brance of the judgements, and the torments of the eternal flame.” V.
Pach. G1 182
Pachomius is said to have frequently meditated upon God’s post-mortem
punishment of sinners, delivering highly evocative descriptions to his dis-
ciples. When Theodore “saw someone unwilling to take care over his own
life and showing disregard, he warned him with great patience about the
fearful judgements of God. For it is terrifying to fall into the hands of
the living God (Heb. 10:31).”3 The dreadful scene of divine punishment is
invoked again and again by monastic authors, often in exquisite detail. It
is easy to dismiss such traditional “fire and brimstone” rhetoric as monoto-
nous threats with little value for historical research.4 To do so would be a
significant oversight, because cultivating the fear of God was a highly com-
plex and innovative cognitive discipline that was fundamental to monastic
identity. Learning the fear of God involved attentive listening to teach-
ings on divine scrutiny and punishment of sin, usually based on evoca-
tive images; submitting to discipline, including corporal punishment; and
frequent personal exercises.

1
CSEL 26: 208.
2
Halkin: 11.
3
V. Pach. G1 132 (Halkin: 83). Theodore also quotes Heb. 10:31 in Instr. 3:20, referring to disciples who
“give excuses for thoughts and passions of the flesh” (Theo., Instr. 3:20, CSCO 159: 50).
4
For the “rhetoric of hell” in Matthew and other early Christian texts, see Henning 2014. For the
larger context of the divine courtroom and judgment in Late Antique literature, see Kensky 2010 and
Uhalde 2007.

148
 Learning the Fear of God 149
The fear of God is a biblical phrase commonly invoked in early Christian
literature as a practice of piety.5 Scholars are aware of its importance for the
monastic life, yet there has been no systematic effort to describe it.6 While
Augustine argued that the fear of God is inferior to love for him, it is often
associated with holy people in Late Antiquity, including Pachomius. In the
literature of cenobitic monasticism, the fear of God is related to the per-
ception of the divine judge’s terrible majesty, and utter helplessness in his
presence. Nevertheless, we cannot reduce this fear to a uniquely “religious”
emotion, such as Rudolf Otto’s famous concept of mysterium tremendum,
a sudden feeling of creaturely awe before the divine majesty.7
Otto imagined the mysterium tremendum as a special experience that
arrived unprovoked, from an external stimulus. By contrast, monas-
tic authors portray the fear of God as a personal attitude that must be
acquired and maintained. Once acquired, it motivates disciples to obey
the commandments, as noted by Horsiesius in the final passage of his
Testament: “Fear God and guard his commandments, for this is [incum-
bent on] everyone, because God will bring every deed to judgement . . .”8
(Cf. Qo 12:13–14). Such warnings are often accompanied by an assertion
that God observes sins that are committed in secret, and can perceive inner
thoughts that are not confessed to superiors. Even if breaches in discipline
went undetected by the monastic authorities, God will make known and
punish all offenses at the last judgment.
In an extended discussion on disciplining the lustful gaze in his monas-
tic Rule, Augustine reminds the disciples that God is watching them: “But
look, even if he goes undetected and is not seen by any person, what will
he do about that inspector from above, from whom nothing can be con-
cealed?”9 The monastic voyeur thus finds that his own gaze is under God’s
surveillance, trumped by the divine panopticon. In a sermon, Augustine
encouraged his audience to imagine God’s all-seeing gaze piercing through

5
Key biblical passages include “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Pr 9:10), and “give
me an undivided heart to fear your name” (Ps. 86:11).
6
Brakke notes the importance of the fear of God in Pachomian spirituality, describing it as a disposi-
tion “which steadied the mind by focusing it on God and higher realities and which resulted in an
intensified life of service to others” (Brakke 2006, 92).
7
Otto 1921, 12–24. Otto’s concept of sui generis emotions has been cogently critiqued by religious
studies scholars drawing on both critical theory (e.g. McCutcheon 1997), and cognitive psychology
(e.g. Taves 2009, 16–55).
8
Hors., Test. 56 (Boon:  147). In the words of New Testament scholarship, the fear of God repre-
sents a “realized” eschatology rather than the expectation of an imminent apocalypse; yet Moschos
2010 portrays the Pachomians alongside other early Egyptian monastic groups as “eschatological
communities.”
9
Aug., Reg. 4:5 (Lawless: 88).
150 Cognitive Disciplines
the intimate confines of houses and bedrooms:  “He must be feared in
public, he must be feared in private. You go out, you are seen; you come
in, you are seen. The lamp burns, he sees you; the lamp is out, he sees you.
You enter your bedroom, he sees you; you turn things over in your heart,
he sees you. Fear him, him whose concern is that he see you; and at least
through fearing, be chaste.”10 For Augustine, then, sin can be avoided by
remembering the perfect gaze of the divine judge.
How are we to understand this monastic pre-occupation with divine
omniscience? Several relevant universal human mental features have been
proposed in the Cognitive Science of Religion. Drawing on evolutionary
psychology, Barrett has proposed that humans are innately equipped with a
“hyperactive agent detection device” (HADD), a cognitive module leading
them to “assume that an omniscient moral observer is watching them.”11
Another key component of the fear of God – concern about post-mortem
judgement – has also been explained by an appeal to adapted human cog-
nitive architecture:  Istvan Czachesz argues that people are predisposed to
believing in the continuance of cognition and emotion after death.12
But these universalizing claims of evolutionary psychology, even
if they were accurate, merely point to innate tendencies. They fail to
address how belief in divine omniscience and post-mortem cognition are
acquired and maintained in specific cultural environments.13 In the ancient
Mediterranean world, the idea of divine omniscience was widespread, but
varied significantly in its specificities, and was not always an area of cul-
tural emphasis.14 The potential of divine omniscience for enforcing societal
codes – so apparent in cenobitic sources – is suggested in a lone surviving
fragment of Greek literature: in the satyr-play Sisyphos, Kritias asserted
that humans first invented laws to eliminate violence and crime; when
people violated these laws in secret, the idea of an all-seeing God who
punishes hidden infractions was invented.15 And the only evidence among

10
Aug., Serm. 132:2 (PL 38: 736).
11
Barrett 2004.
12
Czachesz 2012, 42–45.
13
See the more general critique of evolutionary psychology proposed by Tanya Luhrmann, as dis-
cussed in the Introduction.
14
Raffaelle Pettazzoni argued in a classic if long forgotten history-of-religions study, The All-Knowing
God, that the concept of divine omniscience is not a late monotheistic development, but a widely
attested idea associated with the all-seeing eye of sky gods, which he attributes to anthropomor-
phism (Pettazzoni 1956, 22–23). On the attribution of “mind-reading” to ancestors in the ritual of
the contemporary Pomio Kivung religious movement in Papua New Guinea, and its relationship to
theory of mind, see Whitehouse 2007, 259–260.
15
Kritias, Frag. 25 (Diels). In the ancient Mediterranean, all-seeing gods are often associated with
punishment, and as such are frequently invoked in oaths (Pettazzoni, passim).
 Learning the Fear of God 151
ancient Mediterranean traditions for the idea that God sees not just hid-
den crimes but also inner thoughts and dispositions comes from the Hebrew
Bible.16
For some Christians, the fear of God was an entirely new, mysteri-
ous concept, but also potentially a life-changing one. Thus, Constantine
expressed his amazement that God could see his hidden thoughts:  “For
previously there were in me things which seemed lacking in justice, nor did
I think that a higher power saw anything which I carried inside, secreted
away in my heart.”17 Indeed, divine omniscience was a controversial idea,
with biblical verses already suggesting that some were skeptical about it.18
As we shall see in this chapter, some monks disputed the terrifying image
of post-mortem judgement for all sins, even those committed in secret, or
in thought alone. In addition to the need for disciplining such resistant
disciples, Pachomius asserts more generally that instruction in the fear of
God is fundamental to monastic progress: “Do not neglect to learn the fear
of God, and you will make progress (prokoptei) like neophytes (tōōkye enb
e
rre).”19 Like neophytes learning the alphabet and eventually memorizing
scripture, disciples had to learn to fear God.
In this chapter, I describe how monks learned and maintained the
fear of God through monastic homilies, undergoing discipline (includ-
ing corporal punishment), and personal exercises. Section One describes
the fundamental images that were related to the fear of God, and pro-
poses that various images, such as the divine court room, were incul-
cated through corresponding forms of discipline, such as public rebuke;
and further reinforced through related practices, such as self-blame.
Sections Two through Four treat particular aspects of the fear of God,
namely shame, guilt, and bodily pain, by describing the interrelation-
ship between image, discipline, and practice. Section Five explores fur-
ther strategies for learning the fear of God, including use of the physical
environment, as well as extended rhetorical meditations. Once the fear
of God was inculcated into disciples’ minds and bodies, they could draw
on it in the struggle against evil thoughts, as discussed in the final section
of this chapter.

16
The evidence from the Hebrew Bible is collected in Pettazzoni 1956, 97–114, with a preponderance
of texts from the Psalms and wisdom literature. God is also described as observing the heart in the
Prophets, especially Jeremiah, and in some early Babylonian religious texts.
17
Constantine, Epistula ad episcopos catholicos (CSEL 26: 208).
18
See, in particular Psalm 73:11, 94:7, 10:11, Job 24:15, Sirach 23:18–20, Sirach 16:16–17 and 20–21 (as a
temptation for the pious).
19
Pach., Instr. 1:55 (CSCO 159: 22).
152 Cognitive Disciplines

I. Learning the Fear of God: Image, Discipline, Practice

At its most basic level, the fear of God is a vivid image of divine judgement,
expanding on biblical themes, which monastic teachers frequently invoke.
In one particularly detailed passage, Pachomius describes this terrifying
scene, exhorting his disciples to imagine the consequences if they sin:20
Guard your childhood so that you will be able to protect your old age,
lest you experience shame and regret in the valley of Josaphat, while God’s
entire creation watches you and reproaches you, saying: “We thought that
you were a sheep, we have found you in this place a wolf. Walk, now, into
the gulf of Hell; cast yourself now into the heart of the earth!” Oh, the enor-
mity! You walked in the world, being praised as an elect; in the hour you
arrived at the valley of Josaphat, the place of judgement, you were found
naked, while everyone gazes upon your sins and your unseemliness, which is
revealed to God and humans. Woe to you in that moment! Where will you
turn your face? Will you open your mouth? What will you say? Your sins
are etched in your soul, which is as dark as a hairshirt. What will you do in
that moment? Are you weeping? Your tears will not be accepted. Are you
praying? Your prayers will not be accepted, because those to whom you were
given have no mercy. Oh, woe! At the moment when you hear the fearful,
cutting voice: “Let the sinners go to Hell: Leave me, those who are damned
to the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels;” and also, “I have
hated those who transgress, so I will obliterate from the city of the Lord all
who do lawlessness.”
Pachomius emphasizes that any sins hidden from their monastic colleagues
are nevertheless known to God, and will be revealed to all in the divine
court. He uses strongly visual language to reinforce this idea, asserting that
they will be found “naked” before other surprised monks, their sins visible,
“etched in your soul, which is as dark as a hairshirt.” At the same time,
Pachomius describes how they will be found guilty of their sin, quoting
Isaiah as the voice of divine judgement: “Let the sinners go to Hell.” He
also emphasizes the anguish and pain that will come with this condemna-
tion: it is an “awful” experience to “hear the terrible, cutting voice” that
comes before they are handed over to the “pitiless” angels and “eternal fire.”
Finally, he implicitly contrasts the impossibility of repentance at the divine
court with the opportunity to do so before the monastic community.
This complex image suggests that the fear of God incorporated several
interrelated strategies to encourage conformity to monastic norms, by
evoking shame, guilt, and the threat of pain. Shame is primarily visual,

20
Pach., Instr. 1:33 (CSCO 159:13).
 Learning the Fear of God 153
based on an external, scrutinizing audience, whether real or imagined.
Guilt, on the other hand, is primarily oral, based on an external voice of
condemnation, whether real or imagined.21 Most descriptions of the fear of
God combine both elements: the gaze of the divine judge, and sometimes
also angels, the monk’s elders, or pious family members; and God’s notice
of conviction for sin. Finally, there are frequent references to pain, ranging
from the general idea of chastisement, to detailed depictions of gruesome
torture scenes recalling Roman judicial punishments. This experience of
pain, though not a thought or emotion, is a key aspect of human sensa-
tion, which I accordingly treat as a separate aspect of the fear of God.22
According to anthropologist Ruth Benedict’s influential model, indi-
viduals in “shame cultures” are more concerned with appearing to meet
societal expectations for their given roles. If others believe them to have
violated the rules, they feel shame, even if they have not done so; con-
versely, if they have done so, and are not detected, they feel no shame.
On the other hand, individuals in “guilt cultures” are concerned with
individual culpability, rather than the opinions of others. If they do not
meet societal expectations, they feel guilty for doing so, even if others are
unaware; conversely, if they are wrongly accused, they do not experience
guilt, but defend their innocence.
The distinction between guilt and shame cultures was originally drawn
between modern “Western” and “Eastern” societies, specifically the
United States and Japan.23 Later studies argued that some contemporary
Mediterranean societies were also shame cultures. This typology was soon
also applied to distinguish between ancient and contemporary societies,
with guilt societies seen as a later, more advanced phenomenon. E. R.
Dodds, for example, contrasted the shame society of the Homeric age with
the development of a guilt culture as represented in classical Athenian trag-
edy.24 Other scholars associate guilt culture especially with Christianity,
which in turn influenced contemporary Western culture. However, as
Virginia Burrus has argued, Christians did not replace shame with guilt,
but rather combined the two, especially by Late Antiquity.25

21
As argued by the philosopher Herbert Morris (Morris 1976, 62).
22
For an analysis of the experience, politics, and literary representation of pain, see Scarry 1985.
23
Benedict’s study was prepared during World War II to help Americans better understand the differ-
ences between Japanese culture and their own.
24
Dodds 1951; cf. Cairns 1993 and Williams 1993.
25
Burrus points to “recent discussions of cultural anthropologists who have explicitly rejected the
idea of reifying the distinction between guilt and shame and attaching it specifically to one culture
or another’ ” (5). See further her discussion of shame through the lens of critical theory (Burrus
2007a, 1–9).
154 Cognitive Disciplines
Like Burrus, I  reject the classical anthropological distinction between
shame and guilt cultures, as well as the role of Christianity in their develop-
ment, without abandoning the concepts themselves. In the following anal-
ysis of the fear of God, I make a heuristic distinction between “shame,” in
particular the sense of being watched by God (which is visual); and “guilt,”
the sense of being condemned at the divine tribunal (which is aural). But
monastic teachers did not privilege one concept over the other:  rather,
the two functioned together to encourage conformity to monastic norms.
I will also contribute to the critique of Benedict’s paradigm, for instance by
showing that monks felt shame for actions and thoughts that were hidden
from others, because they were urged to imagine that these were visible
to God.
I also reject the association of “shame” cultures with prioritization of
the group over the individual, and guilt cultures with prioritization of the
individual over the group,26 since this distinction is based on the prob-
lematic dichotomy between structure and agency found across a range of
sociological and anthropological theories.27 Instead, I  will describe both
how disciples internalized the fear of God from their teachers and monas-
tic institutions, and how they then strategically drew upon this acquired
disposition to navigate complex situations, especially related to tempta-
tion. In other words, the fear of God is inextricably linked to both the
functioning of monastic society, and the cognition, emotion, and practices
of individual monks.
As a mediating structure between societal/institutional forces and indi-
vidual actors, the fear of God closely approximates the sociological concept
of the habitus, developed by Pierre Bourdieu. The habitus is a disposi-
tion that structures the practice of those who have internalized it, with-
out their conscious awareness of it, while leaving open the possibility for
strategic action, whether calculated or not.28 Unfortunately, Bourdieu’s
practice theory29 provides little guidance for understanding how disciples

26
For the perpetuation of this anthropological idea in New Testament studies, see, e.g., Malina
1981, 58–80.
27
For a critique of the structure/agent dichotomy, see Bourdieu 1977, 1–29.
28
The concept of the habitus is developed by social theorist Pierre Bourdieu, who defines it as
“durable, transposable dispositions, structured structures predisposed to function as structuring
structures, that is, as principles which generate and organise practices and representations that can
be objectively adapted to their outcomes without presupposing a conscious aiming at ends or an
express mastery of the operations necessary in order to attain them” (Bourdieu 1977).
29
As Saba Mahmood notes, in Bourdieu’s writings there is a “lack of attention to the pedagogical
process by which a habitus is learned” (Mahmood 2005, 139).
 Learning the Fear of God 155
internalized the fear of God.30 It is crucial to note that the fear of God, like
the habitus, was at once cognitive and corporal, that is, it was imprinted in
the mind as well as incorporated into the body. It was thus taught through
both instruction (primarily oral) that presented detailed images of the
divine judgement scene, and corporal discipline that provided a “feel” for
the gaze of others, and hearing a harsh voice of condemnation.31 All forms
of monastic discipline – including rebuke, public shaming, corporal pun-
ishment, isolation, demotion, and expulsion – involved leaders perform-
ing the various actions attributed to the divine judge in their teachings on
the fear of God. This discipline was administered when monks committed
some kind of transgression that could have been avoided by mobilizing the
fear of God, in order to make that fear seem more “real” to the disciple by
enacting it on his or her body.
In many ways, the fear of God’s images of divine punishment, and the
related forms of monastic discipline, corresponded to political ideologies
of punishment in the Later Roman Empire.32 On the one hand, the fear of
God portrayed divine retribution, as God responds to offenses against “His
image,” whether understood as other monks or Christ himself, on the day
of judgement. Pachomius thus imagines the divine voice of condemnation:
If you have struck your brother, you will be given to merciless angels and
they will beat you with a flaming rod forever. You did not spare my image,
you struck me, you despised me and you put me to shame. Therefore I will
not spare you in the depth of your affliction. You have not made peace with
your brother in this world; neither will there be peace between me and you
on the day of great judgement.33
Similarly, the imperial laws often spoke of the emperor’s “aveng-
ing sword,” which was mobilized against those who defied his will, and

30
Elizabeth Clark points this out in her exploratory study of ancient Christian constructions of shame
(Clark 1991, 229). Clark’s own attempt to fill this gap concentrates on rhetorical constructions of
God’s all-seeing eye, but does not consider God’s surveillance of thoughts.
31
According to Bourdieu, the habitus is manifested as a particular way of carrying the body, which
he defines as the hexis: “Bodily hexis is political mythology realized, em-bodied, turned into a per-
manent disposition, a durable manner of standing, speaking, and thereby of feeling and thinking”
(Bourdieu 1977, 93–94).
32
Monastic punishments were closely related to secular ones, whether civilian or military. These
include public shaming through the loosening of the belt (a punishment for soldiers), whipping,
loss of status, and expulsion or exile (punishments for both civilians and soldiers). There is less over-
lap with early imperial Greek religion, though Chaniotis 2012 argues effectively for the importance
of fear of the gods, especially divine retribution for human lawlessness, as well as the role of emotion
in ritual more generally.
33
Pach., Instr. 1:41 (CSCO 159: 17).
156 Cognitive Disciplines
described punishments fitting the crime in question, such as filling the
throats of those who had persuaded others to a crime with molten lead.34
Another ideology of punishment shared by the imperial and monas-
tic disciplinary systems was deterrence. According to this concept, pun-
ishments were a spectacle of the Roman emperor to enforce his laws by
forcefully marking his power on the body of those who violated them; the
brutality of such enforcement discouraged others from breaking the law.35
Similarly, many forms of monastic discipline, such as simple rebuke, or
requiring sinners to stand apart from the congregation at prayers or meals,
were publicly enforced. This was partly to instill a sense of shame in the
monk being disciplined, but also to turn the punishment into a spectacle
for others, who could imagine themselves in the same position if they
sinned. The most drastic forms of monastic discipline  – such as public
beating, stripping of the habit, and expulsion – recalled the Roman prac-
tice of using public torture as a means of deterrence. Thus, Besa brought
vagrant monks back to the monastery for a public punishment, justifying
this discipline by quoting Mt 22:29: “Thus, it has been said, ‘Rebuke those
who sin in the presence of everyone, so that the rest also fear’.”36
Monastic leaders also terrorized their subjects with threatening rheto-
ric, another aspect shared with imperial law.37 While monastic discipline
did not adopt the extreme spectacles of the Roman penal system, such
as immolation and crucifixion, disciples were threatened with similarly
brutal forms of punishment on the day of judgement.38 In a shockingly
violent passage, Shenoute proclaims his own readiness to torture and kill
the sinners of his community:39 “If the place did not exist, and the day
[was not coming], when the Lord will destroy your souls and bodies, and
if there were an opportunity, not only would I cause the legal authorities
to flay your sides, and light a fire under you, and carry off your heads; but
I would stand some crosses on the streets of the congregations, and have
you hung on them until you are dried up and the birds of the sky eat your
flesh.” Despite his willingness to punish them, Shenoute simply delivers a
warning that divine chastisement awaits.

34
For a description of late Roman ideas of punishment as retribution, see Harries 1999, 135–137.
35
Spectacular punishment as a means for the state to assert control over criminals’ bodies in the
medieval and Early Modern periods is famously described by Foucault 1995; however, an applica-
tion of the contrast he makes between spectacular and disciplinary punishment does not hold in the
monastic context, where both forms coexisted.
36
Besa, Frag. 3 (CSCO 157: 6).
37
Harries 1999, 119–120.
38
For a description of spectacular punishment in the later Roman Empire, see Harries 1999, 138–139.
39
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 354).
 Learning the Fear of God 157
With “capital punishment” now paradoxically a post-mortem affair,
Christians developed a new ideology of punishment for the living: reme-
dial discipline.40 As Clement of Alexandria explains in the Pedagogue:
“Correction and chastisement, as their very name implies, are blows
inflicted upon the soul, restraining sin, warding off death, leading those
enslaved by vice back to self-control.”41 In another passage, Clement draws
an analogy with military discipline to make his point:42
When a general inflicts upon evil-doers pecuniary fines and confinement
in chains affecting the body as well, and complete disgrace, and even when
he exacts the death penalty, it is for a good purpose: he is using his author-
ity as general to serve warning to his subjects. Similarly, when that mighty
General of ours, the Word, Guide of the whole world, serves notice on those
who disobey the law to restrain the passions of their heart, it is to release
them from error and from slavery and captivity to the enemy, and to guide
them in peace to a holy concord of life.
While Clement builds an analogy between military punishment and
Christian discipline, he also distinguishes between the former’s effect of
deterrence, and the latter’s therapeutic goal of restraining the passions;
between imprisonment and release.
In summary, the fear of God was imprinted upon the minds and incor-
porated into the bodies of disciples in several ways. First, teachers presented
“pictures” of divine judgement to them, encouraging them to constantly
meditate on these images and to imagine themselves before God’s tribunal.
They also employed various forms of corporal punishment to persuade the
body of the reality of these pictures. For instance, the teacher’s beatings
anticipated the bodily pain associated with the threat of divine punish-
ment. This and other aspects of monastic discipline constitute a form of
“ritualization,” a process by which events are made exceptional by distin-
guishing them from the normal routine of the monastery.43 “Ritualization”
underlines the inevitability of divine power, and thus the necessity of
obeying the divine will, which monastic leaders such as Pachomius and

40
For remedial punishment (emendatio) in Christian and late Roman law, see the extensive analysis in
Hillner 2015, 64–112.
41
Clem., Paed. 1:9. For punishment as a deterrent for others, see Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae 7:14,
discussed in Hillner 2015, 38–39.
42
Clem., Paed. 1:8.
43
Here I am using Catherine Bell’s definition of “ritualization,” which itself draws on the concept of
habitus, as the process by which a set of practices is differentiated from another because of some
special quality – in this case, departure from the routine – and thus becomes privileged. See Bell
1990, 90. For ritualization in relation to the laws of Shenoute’s monastic community, see Schroeder
2007, 54–89.
158 Cognitive Disciplines
Shenoute claimed to represent. The fear of God, then, was incorporated by
disciples through ritual discipline of the body, which then acquired a feel
for the pictures learned by the mind. The final goal of ritual was to predis-
pose the participants to repeat these actions, or variations of them, in other
contexts, especially situations of temptation.44 Indeed, for each image and
its related disciplinary procedure, there is a third link in the chain: a cor-
responding exercise that a monk practices without the guidance of the
teacher, both to internalize it further and actively employ it.
The triple correspondence I am positing within the fear of God between
mental images, bodily discipline, and personal exercise is not explicitly
stated in ancient monastic literature.45 Yet this very silence is another
important element of ritualization, a strategy by which its effects – the
ritual embodiment of the fear of God – appear inevitable.46 To describe
the dynamics of internalization, I divide my analysis into three parts. I first
consider shame before the divine eye or a pious audience in depictions of
the judgement scene, the corresponding discipline of being singled out in
front of the community, and the related exercise of self-scrutiny. Second,
I explore guilt through the voice of divine condemnation in depictions of
the fear of God, the corresponding discipline of rebuke, and the related
exercise of self-blame. Third, I consider threats and images of pain, the
corresponding discipline of corporal punishment, and the related exercise
of ascetic austerities. This triple threefold division is for the sake of conve-
nience in exposition: the images, disciplines, and exercises associated with
shame, guilt, and pain, are all important and interrelated aspects of the
fear of God.

II. Shame, Surveillance/Clairvoyance, Self-Scrutiny

In descriptions of the divine judgement scene, monks are exhorted to
imagine themselves under the scrutinizing gaze of the heavenly court, as
well as that of monastic colleagues or family members. As in the classical
model, shame derives from being seen by others. The fear of God, however,
extends the notion of what is shameful from sins committed in public to

44
As Bell puts it, “The goal of ritualization as such is completely circular: the creation of a ritualized
agent, an actor with a form of ritual mastery, who embodies flexible sets of cultural schemes and can
deploy them effectively in multiple situations so as to reconstruct those situations in practical ways”
(Bell 1997, 81).
45
Although one rule does explicitly describe discipline as an alternative to post-mortem punish-
ment: those who break the rule must do “penance publicly, so that he may be able to attain the
kingdom of heaven” (P 144, Boon: 52).
46
Bell 1997, 81.
 Learning the Fear of God 159
acts and even thoughts, which are not visible to others. This is achieved
through a simple analogy: monks are told to imagine an all-seeing divine
eye watching their every move and monitoring their inner thoughts and
feelings, especially in response to temptation. This privileged view will be
universalized at the day of judgement, when all sins will be revealed.
The concept of a divine panopticon was re-enforced through monas-
tic discipline in several ways, including the surveillance network, which
placed monks under the constant watch of their superiors and colleagues.
Additionally, some leaders claimed the gift of clairvoyance, the ability to
see hidden or distant sins, including cardiognosticism, the ability to know
the hearts of others, to see/read their thoughts. Finally, through the exercise
of self-scrutiny, disciples avoided future shame by imagining their deeds
and thoughts under constant observation by God and their colleagues, and
evaluated whether their behavior conformed to the monastic rule.
Depictions of Shame. As we have seen in Pachomius’s description at the
valley of Josaphat (Instr. 1:33), the fear of God is intensely visual:  disci-
ples must imagine God’s all-seeing gaze, which will be extended to other
onlookers at the day of judgement. Theodore offers a similar ekphrasis of
shame before the divine tribunal:47
[Let us] be on guard and fearful, lest we become lovers of honor. For if we
become lovers of honors in this age, we force God to bring the document
with the shame of our actions and the thoughts of our hearts against us, at
the tribunal of Christ, in the presence of the angels, and all the saints, as we
are naked, with no means of seeking refuge anywhere, except the fire which
will consume [God’s] enemies, and with no means at all of covering our
shame. But if we place before ourselves at each moment our weaknesses and
our evil thoughts, so that we regret them in this age, we will escape eternal
shame, the fire, and unceasing rebuke.
Sinful monks will feel shame before the angels and the saints when their
hidden deeds and thoughts are revealed. Theodore communicates the
intense visuality of this experience by using the language of nudity: “With
no means at all of covering our shame.” On the other hand, the actions and
thoughts are not directly observed, but recorded in a document produced
as evidence against the monk.48
Other instructions in the fear of God offered various thought experi-
ments for conceptualizing how unseen sins, and especially mental activity,

47
Theo., Instr. 3:8 (CSCO 159: 44).
48
Note how Theodore seamlessly joins the sense of “eternal shame” with guilt (the document, and
“unceasing rebuke”) and pain (“fire”) in his presentation of the fear of God.
160 Cognitive Disciplines
might be visible to God, and others at the last judgement. In an extended
description of the last judgement, Origen describes how everyone will have
to give an account for their actions, words, and thoughts, even those which
are hidden:  “Bad thoughts will be convicted by the conscience refuting
them.” Now, the books of the heart are “rolled up and covered, contain-
ing writing which we carry, worked over with certain remarks of the con-
science, yet not known to anyone but God alone;” at the last judgement,
“inscribed tablets containing the letters of our deeds and thoughts will be
read, as we have said, by every rational creature.”49 Augustine asserts that
the resurrection body will be transparent, with the pure thoughts of the
pious laid bare for all to see: “Someone will answer me, saying: ‘If they are
covered, how will it not be possible to lay hidden? Will not our hearts and
our inner organs lay hidden?’ Everyone will see the thoughts, my siblings,
the thoughts that no one sees now except God, in that society of saints.
There no one wants what he thinks to be hidden, because no one thinks
evil.”50 All of these teachings attempt to expand the sense of shame by
imagining how the deceased’s life history will be open to all.
Shame and Monastic Discipline. Monastic leaders employed several dis-
ciplinary techniques to instill in disciples a feel for the divine panopti-
con, and the corresponding sense of shame: surveillance, clairvoyance, and
public penance.
Larger cenobitic monasteries included extensive surveillance networks,
through which informants reported sins to the abbots, or other members
of the monastic hierarchy.51 Ideally, surveillance was based on the direct and
continuous observation of disciples. For instance, the Rule of the Master
stipulates that the dean was to sleep surrounded by his ten disciples, such
that he could monitor the behavior of them all.52 Occasional inspection
of cells is attested in the Pachomian Koinonia, presumably to ensure that
monks were not hoarding food or other illicit belongings.53 In the White
Monastery, the Male Eldest inspected the cells once a month, probably
to ensure that monks were not storing private property.54 The system of
49
Or., Comm. ad Rom. 9:6 (PG 14: 1242B–C); note that Origen imagines the book of the heart alter-
nately as a roll and a tablet, but not a codex. See the discussion of this passage in Stroumsa 2008,
74–75, who suggests that the coded language in the Letters of Pachomius “may be understood as the
secret language in which the book of the heart is written, and which will be opened only on judge-
ment day.” For additional references to sins written on the heart in Origen, see Raasch 1968, 52.
50
Aug., Serm. 243:5 (PL 38: 1145).
51
For an extensive study of surveillance in early Christian monasteries, see Sala 2011.
52
RM 29.
53
Horsiesius provides a satirical description of monks frantically trying to hide their property when a
friend tells them that a superior is coming to inspect the cell (Hors., Instr. 7).
54
For sleeping arrangements at the White Monastery, see Layton 2007, 47.
 Learning the Fear of God 161
surveillance also depended on the obligation of all monks to report the
infractions of other disciples to their superiors.55 If this was not done vol-
untarily, leaders might resort to interrogation, especially if violations of the
rules were suspected.56
The biographical tradition avoids direct mention of the surveillance
apparatus, instead focusing on the miraculous charisms of monastic lead-
ers, especially Pachomius and Theodore. Several stories depict these lead-
ers moving around the monasteries unrecognized, observing unacceptable
behavior or attitudes themselves.57 However, the privileged vantage point
of the Koinonia’s leaders is most clearly expressed by the controversial gift
of clairvoyance, which features frequently in the Lives. Simply stated, the
faculty of clairvoyance (to dioratikon) is an enhanced perception of sin,
whether remote or hidden actions, or evil thoughts.58 I consider the lat-
ter, “cardiognosticism,” or knowledge of the heart, a special case of the
former, although it can be difficult to distinguish between the two.59 Thus,
when a monk confesses his sins after Theodore observes, “I see someone
among you whose hope is in a cooking pot,” it is uncertain whether he is
referring to the young monk Patlole’s temptation or act, both of which are
mentioned.60
Pachomius frequently detects and exposes hidden sin. In a typical anec-
dote, he visits a monastery in which a brother, hungered by fasting, has
stolen five figs and hidden them in a jar. He then states before the commu-
nity: “I was sent here today because of the health of a soul, and I found what
I came here for in an earthenware vessel,” prompting the brother to reveal
his sin, and the other monks to “marvel at the Spirit of God which was in
our father Pachomius and at his perfect gaze (yōrh).”61 Cardiognosticism
was directed at disciples undergoing temptation, especially when they
refused to confess their thoughts. Thus, a brother consistently hides his

55
e.g., Rules 143 (Layton 2014, 146–147). Criminal justice in the Roman Empire also relied on inform-
ers, because there were no police. See Harries 1999, 119–122.
56
Theodore often did so for Pachomius; see V. Pach. SBo 64, 74, 77.
57
V. Pach. SBo 72, 138.
58
On clairvoyance in Late Antique spiritual direction in general, see Hausherr 1990, 91–96; for
Pachomian monasticism, see Vecoli 2006, 109–141, and Sala 2011, 111–134.
59
The revelation of hidden deeds is featured in V. Pach. SBo 59, 64, 77, V. Pach. G1 74, 89 (Pachomius)
and V. Pach. SBo 148, 185 (Theodore); hidden thoughts/demons in V. Pach. SBo 106, 107, 111, 122
(Pachomius) and V. Pach. SBo 195 (Theodore). Clairvoyance (dioratikon) is itself defined as the abil-
ity “to see the thoughts (enthumēmata) of souls” in V. Pach. G1 48 (Halkin: 31), but for the purposes
of this chapter I  use it to refer to the perception of hidden deeds, and cardiognosticism to the
perception of hidden thoughts. On cardiognosticism, see Grünbeck 2004.
60
V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 107: 97); cf. V. Pach. SBo 108.
61
V. Pach. SBo 72 (CSCO 107: 74–75).
162 Cognitive Disciplines
troubled heart from Pachomius, who sees through this deception and
declares that the demon against which he was fighting has now possessed
him from head to foot. When asked how to make it leave, Pachomius
asserts that the disciple must simply believe in his teachings.62 In both
instances, Pachomius is performing divine omniscience, training the sinful
monk and other onlookers in the fear of God.
Pachomius was eventually forced to defend his practice of clairvoyance
before bishops at the Council of Latopolis.63 He argues that clairvoyance
did not derive from his own power, but the gift of the spirit: “Leave God’s
charism alone! If the wise and intelligent according to worldly standards
spend a few days among people, do they not recognize the disposition
of each one through discernment”?64 Theodore uses a similar argument
in his defense of clairvoyance recorded in the biographical tradition.65
And during his brief stay in the Koinonia, the young Ammon is particu-
larly drawn to Theodore’s power of cardiognosticism, despite his doubts
about it: “I asked Ausonius to convince me, from the scriptures, whether
it is at all possible for someone to see what is hidden in the hearts of
others.”66 Ausonius duly provides a series of biblical passages in which
cardiognosticism is displayed, including Samuel’s first encounter with
Saul (1 Kg 9.19–20), and Peter’s assessment of Simon in Acts 8:23.67 And
many of the subsequent episodes recorded in Ammon’s Letter emphasize
Theodore’s knowledge of hidden sin and evil thoughts in order to justify
his disciplinary practices, including expulsion.68
Although most of the detailed examples of clairvoyance are found in
Pachomian hagiography, this gift was also attributed to other monastic

62
V. Pach. SBo 102. The subject of disbelief is never revealed, but it may have been divine omniscience,
human clairvoyance, or post-mortem punishment, for all of which there is evidence of skepticism.
63
See the accounts in V. Pach. G1 112 and V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 591–595). Jenott 2013b is cor-
rect to note Pachomius’s appeal to visions to justify his expansion of the Koinonia as the primary
cause for clerical opposition, but as I argue in this chapter, skepticism regarding clairvoyance was
not simply rooted in ecclesiastical politics.
64
V. Pach. G1 112 (Halkin: 73). Curiously, this passage also suggests that the divine gift is not unique,
but shared by the worldly wise. In the Coptic Kephalaia, Mani argues that only he, and not his elect,
possesses clairvoyance, listing five reasons it would endanger his church if the elect possessed it as
well: if the elect were cardiognostic, he claims, it would endanger their humility, and lead to mutual
hate (Böhlig 1966: 255–257)! In the Pachomian system, by contrast, cardiognosticism seems to have
been monopolized by Pachomius (and later Theodore). However, conflict might arise when other
monks also claimed this charism: see, e.g., the discussion of Shenoute’s Canons 1 in Chapter 7.
65
In V. Pach. G1 135, Theodore emphasizes the Spirit as the source of revelation and the importance of
humility.
66
Ep. Am. 16 (Goehring 1985: 135).
67
The other cited passages are 1Kg 16:6–12; 4 Kg 4:27; 4 Kg 5:25–27; Pr 27:23; Pr 21:22; Acts 14:8–10.
68
Ep. Am. 17, 19–20, 22–24, 26.
 Learning the Fear of God 163
leaders, such as Hypatius, abbot of an important monastery outside of
Constantinople.69 Similarly, despite his general avoidance of the miracu-
lous, Hilary praised the clairvoyance of Honoratus, founder of the monas-
tery at Lérins: “He perceived what was troubling everyone as easily as if he
bore the minds of each in his own mind. . .He knew (by an instinct of God,
I believe) everyone’s virtues, everyone’s feelings, everyone’s preferences.”70
While clairvoyance was a means for monastic superiors to demonstrate
the power of divine omniscience, other disciplinary strategies gave monks
a feel for being scrutinized by their colleagues, as they would be at the
last judgment. These are evident in the Precepts, which, if broken, result
in several punishments, namely “repentance” (Latin paenitantia/Graeco-
Coptic metanoia), “rebuke” (Latin increpatio/Greek and Graeco-Coptic
epitimia), or both.71 These were public punishments, occurring in front of
the altar at the synaxis (17, 131, 145), or in the refectory during mealtimes
(135).72 They involved separation from the rest of the community, and the
assumption of a humble body posture, as in the following description
of public rebuke: “Let him loosen his belt, and, with his neck bent, and
hands hanging down, let him stand in front of the altar and be rebuked
by the superior.”73 Although no details are given about body posture dur-
ing repentance, it probably included ritual prostration and a request for
forgiveness;74 this is also the posture of the sinner at the last judgement, as
described in Instruction 1:38. All of these techniques were meant to famil-
iarize the body with the sensation of being separated from companions
and feeling their gaze.75
Self-Scrutiny. As Theodore noted in the passage quoted above: “But if
we place before ourselves at each moment our weaknesses and our evil
69
V. Hyp. 14.
70
Hil.-Arel, V. Hon. 4:18 (SC 235: 120).
71
Rebuke: P 18, 22, 48, 131, 135. Repentance: P 121, 125, 137, 144, PInst 6, 8, 11, 12. Both: P 17.
72
P 17, 131, 145, and P 135, respectively. Several rules simply note that the repentance is to be carried
out “publicly:” Pach., Instr. 6, 8, 11, 12 (Boon: 55–57).
73
P 8 (Boon: 15). Cf. P 135 (Boon: 48): “Let every rebuke happen thus: let them be rebuked with belt
unbuckled, and let them stand in the great synaxis and the refectory.” The loosening of the belt
was also used as a punishment in the Roman army, which may have had a significant influence on
Pachomian discipline (Lehmann 1951).
74
Vivian 1999, with reference to the visual evidence.
75
One rule establishes the punishment of separation from the community for seven days, receiving
only bread and water (PIud 1). Similarly, in the Epitimia attributed to Basil (PG 31: 1305–1314), some
infractions were punished with exclusion from the community for one or several weeks. Demotion
(PIud 2, 9), whether temporary or permanent, also involved a visible change in one’s sitting position
within the assembly. Theodore’s punishment for consenting to lead the Koinonia after Pachomius’s
death involved both separation from the community and temporary demotion (V. Pach. SBo 94).
For enforced separation in monasticism, and late Roman society more generally, see Hillner 2015,
189–190.
164 Cognitive Disciplines
thoughts, so that we regret them in this age, we will escape eternal shame,
the fire, and unceasing rebuke.” Monks were expected to exercise self-
scrutiny, that is, to observe whether their behavior conformed to monastic
laws. This process was institutionalized in the White Monastery federa-
tion, where all the rules were read at four yearly meetings, as the assembled
community listened to them, “scrutinizing their words and deeds accord-
ing to our Canons.”76 While this suggests that self-scrutiny was a retrospec-
tive exercise, the Testament of Horsiesius calls for a constant vigilance so
as to avoid violating Pachomius’s rules: “Let us examine ourselves and not
treat lightly the faults we have committed. Let us study with an anxious
heart each command of our Father and those who have taught us.”77
Isaiah of Scetis, in his Discourse 15, presents a multi-step cognitive exer-
cise for self-scrutiny of hidden thoughts, which imagines them first as vis-
ible to God, and then acted out in front of colleagues. This mobilization
of the fear of God fulfills the exhortation, “Beloved, let us take thought of
ourselves.”78 Although Isaiah admits that one’s thoughts are hidden from
human colleagues, he recommends that the monk call to mind God’s all-
seeing eye: “Consider that God pays attention to your every action, that he
sees your thought.” He then asks the members of his audience to consider
whether they would be ashamed if the secret thought were to be acted
out in public: “Whatever you are ashamed to do in front of people, it is
also shameful to think in secret, for ‘from its fruit the tree is known’ ” (Mt
12:33). This is the same feeling of shame a monk should have before God
regarding the thought. Finally, the monk should admonish his or her own
soul: “So say to your soul, ‘If you are ashamed that sinners like yourself see
you sin, how much more should you be ashamed of God who pays atten-
tion to the secrets of your heart’?” According to Isaiah, this exercise ensures
that “the fear of God is revealed in your soul.”79

III. Guilt, Rebuke, Self-Blame

The fear of God combined the visual exposure of sinners with verbal con-
demnations, most notably accusations from angels or monastic leaders,
and the divine voice of judgment. The corresponding forms of monastic
discipline are rebuke, and, in the extreme case, expulsion. Finally, disciples
were taught to blame themselves, in order to avoid future guilt.
76
Rule 24 (Layton 2014: 100–101).
77
Hors., Test. 5.
78
Esaias, Or. 15:1 (Augoustinos: 82).
79
Esaias, Or. 15:2 (Augoustinos: 83).
 Learning the Fear of God 165
Depictions of Guilt. In another account of the last judgement, Pachomius
describes the long list of charges that will be brought against the sinner:80
If you are bound with your brother [in a dispute], prepare yourself for pun-
ishments on account of your sins, your transgressions, your fornications
that you do in secret, your lies, your obscene words, your evil thoughts,
your avarice, your evil actions, for which you will give an account at the
bema of Christ, as all of God’s creation gazes at you, and all the angels and
the entire host is there, with swords drawn, forcing you to defend yourself
and confess your sins; while all your clothing is soiled, with your mouth
shut, as you are prostrate with not a word to say! For how many things will
you give an account, wretch? The many fornications that are gangrene to
the soul, desires of the eyes, evil thoughts that distress the Spirit and pain
the soul. . .
As usual, this description invokes shame and employs visual metaphors:
soiled clothing, and a soul afflicted with gangrene. But the emphasis is on
the need to defend against the accusation of hidden “fornications,” lies,
and thoughts. Pachomius describes the terror of the scene, when the angels
draw their swords as they deliver the charges against the sinner, who lays
prostrate, unable to answer them.
Another key aspect of guilt found in instructions on the fear of God is
the divine voice of condemnation, sending the sinners to hell at the last
judgement. Thus, Pachomius threatens monks who are involved in dis-
putes by saying that God will rebuke them as follows:81
If you have struck your brother, you will be given to the merciless angels
and they will be beaten with a flaming rod forever. You did not spare my
image, you struck me, you despised me and you put me to shame. Therefore
I will not spare you in the depth of your affliction. You have not made peace
with your brother in this world; neither will there be peace between me and
you on the day of great judgement.
Similarly, Horsiesius warns about negligent monks in his Testament: “the
following lament can be justly applied to them: ‘Woe to those who have
strayed from me’ (Ho 7:13). . . And, because they have not listened to his
judges, let them listen to God saying, ‘I have established observers over
you. Listen to the sound of the trumpet’. And they said, ‘We will not lis-
ten’.”82 By meditating on such dialogues with God, monks acquired a sense
of guilt that motivated them to avoid temptation.

80
Pach., Instr. 1:38 (CSCO 159: 15–16).
81
Pach., Instr. 1:41 (CSCO 159: 17).
82
Hors., Test. 36 (Boon: 133).
166 Cognitive Disciplines
Guilt and Monastic Discipline. The sense of guilt could also be taught
through disciplinary techniques, in particular the strategy of “talking
back” discussed in Chapter 3. By referring to appropriate scriptural texts
in their rebuke of sinful disciples, monastic teachers imitated the divine
voice of blame so frequently invoked in descriptions of the last judgement.
According to the Rule of the Master, deacons are supposed to correct inap-
propriate behavior immediately by issuing admonitions, since the guilty
parties might simply be ignorant of wrongdoing, especially if they were
beginners and had not learned about the more intricate etiquette of daily
monastic life. Thus, Dorotheus warns against judging character based on a
single action.83 Teachers corrected with specific biblical verses, appropriate
to the offense in question; thus laughter, lying, swearing, anger, cursing,
frivolity, and speaking too loudly all had appropriate scriptural passages
that would discourage the sinner from repeating them.84
The Pachomian Precepts and Judgements specify that monks will be given
a varying number of warnings, based on the offense, before receiving a
more serious punishment.85 This use of light admonition, rather than cas-
tigation, for first-time or casual offenders was based on the logic that moral
progress was made primarily through habitual behavior. On the other
hand, if disciples were corrected multiple times, but continued to repeat
the same offense, they were considered to be committing it knowingly,
and instilling a habit of sin in themselves; in this instance, harsher pun-
ishment was necessary. According to the Rule of the Master, monks have
three opportunities to correct their behavior, before being charged with
disobedience: “If, in all that has been said above, any brother frequently
proves contumacious or proud or given to murmuring or disobedient to
his deans, after having been warned and reprimanded once and a second
and a third time, in accordance with the divine precept, does not amend,
the deans are to report this to the abbot.”86 At this point, the recalcitrant
monk is condemned as a “servant of the devil,” and submitted to corporal
punishment, which will be discussed in the following section. Expulsion
from the monastery, which corresponds to divine condemnation at the last
judgement, will be covered in Part Three.

83
Dor., Doct. 6.
84
RM 12.
85
6 times (PIud 2); 3 times (PIud 3); 5 times (PIud 5); 10 times (PIud 6).
86
RM 12. On the other hand, the offenses listed in the Pachomian Precepts and Laws call for different
numbers of admonishments (from two times for slander to ten times for lying) before a monk is
actually punished.
 Learning the Fear of God 167
The concise descriptions of discipline in monastic rules are portrayed
with more detail in several biographical episodes that feature Pachomius or
Theodore rebuking a disciple for evil thoughts or deeds, often through clair-
voyance. Ammon relates how Theodore revealed to the assembled commu-
nity that four brothers, on assignment outside the community, had sinned
through laughter: “And while he was speaking the four, as by a single counsel,
although they were separated from one another, wailing and weeping with a
loud voice, looking to the east, cast themselves down before God, stating that
they were the accused.”87 Other examples similarly involve such accusations,
followed by confession of guilt, in front of the community.88
Other episodes of monastic discipline related to guilt occurred in pri-
vate. In another report, Ammon relates how, wandering the monastery
alone one night, he observed Theodore rebuking the monk Amaeis:
Why do you not have the fear of God before your eyes (Ps. 7:10)? Do you not
know that God tries the hearts and innards (Rev. 2:23)? Why do you some-
times see in your heart and embrace prostitutes, and sometimes [you think
that] you sleep with a lawful wife and pollute your whole body. . .Know
therefore that if you do not repent and if you do not propitiate the Lord,
purifying yourself with tears in the fear of God, but instead remain in this
goal, the Lord will not guide you aright, but will condemn you to eternal
fire.89
Amaeis then falls on his knees and confesses. This posture corresponds pre-
cisely to the scene of post-mortem accusation in Pachomius’s Instruction
1.38, discussed above, except that here, the monk is not speechless, but has
the opportunity to confess and repent.
The process of admonition  – in which monastic leaders perform the
voice of divine judgement for ignorant or negligent disciples – might be
interpreted as a means of re-activating the voice of conscience, which God
placed in humans to guide their behavior, but which was repressed as a result
of Adam and Eve’s sin. As the monastic teacher Dorotheus explains, after
the fall, the conscience is dimmed and sometimes not heard or ignored.90
This idea is evident in an anecdote from the Pachomian biographical tradi-
tion in which Theodore, through his cardiognosticism, understands that
87
Ep. Am. 23 (Goehring:  145–146). Cf. Ep. Am. 21, in which Theodore reveals that a demon has
tempted a hungry disciple to break his fast by stealing bread, followed by the offending monk’s
admission of guilt.
88
V. Pach. SBo 65 (cf. V. Pach. G1 70), 72, 94 (cf. V. Pach. G1 106), 107; Ep. Am. 20, 21, 23, 26.
89
Ep. Am. 20 (Goehring: 137). For other episodes of private accusation and confession, see V. Pach.
SBo 75, V. Pach. G1 67, Ep. Am. 17, 20, 24.
90
Dor., Doct. 3.
168 Cognitive Disciplines
the young monk Patlole has eaten porridge, despite being admonished by
the “Spirit of God” not to do so. Theodore rebukes the monk: “That sub-
stance has been cooked for those who need it, but you have no need of it,
for thoughts of the flesh are assailing you.” Afterward, the offending monk
publicly confesses his thought: “He quickly bowed down to the ground in
the midst of the brothers, saying, ‘Pray for me, because I scorned my con-
science (suneidēsis) regarding the thing which I was considering; because
I  disobeyed the good suggestion of my heart, the Lord has rebuked me
openly’.”91 Theodore’s chastisement, as well as the public shame it involved,
was meant to strengthen the monk’s conscience such that the next time he
would obey this internal suggestion from God.92
Self-Blame. The image of condemnation at the last judgement, which was
reinforced through disciplinary rebuke, led to the internalization of a sense
of guilt, as expressed through the exercises of self-blame and confession.
In his Sixth Instruction, Horsiesius urges his disciples: “And also, while you
pray, accuse yourself many times, saying:  ‘Lord, blessed God, why have
I spent all this time ignorant of you?’ ”93
In the Canons, Shenoute frequently invokes the divine courtroom as
the ultimate place of arbitration for his ongoing disputes with disciples.
While he firmly asserts that his opponents are sinners, and he was justi-
fied in removing them from the monastery, he also practices a humble
self-blame:94
If he interrogates me about my sins, my false words, my lies, my thoughts
which deceive me, my negligence, my sloth, my insatiability, my stubborn-
ness, my slander, deceit, pollutions, and all the other evil things which
I have done before the Lord, knowingly and unknowingly, these and many
other things; if the Lord questions me about them, my mouth will be shut
on that day when every mouth will be shut, as it is written. And I will not
be able to give an account at all before the Lord for a single word or a single
deed among all the things that I have done in error.
Like the guilty sinner who remains speechless at the last judgement evoked
by Pachomius, Shenoute blames himself for a host of vices. As we shall see
in Part Three, this humble admission of guilt was presented as an example
for the audience to follow, in an effort to provoke collective repentance.

91
V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 107: 97); cf. V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99/100: 158).
92
For more on the conscience, see Chapter 5 below.
93
Hors., Instr. 6:4 (CSCO 157: 75).
94
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 138).
 Learning the Fear of God 169
On the other hand, frequent self-blame was a source of mental distress
to some monks. A disciple of Barsanuphius describes his practice of con-
stant verbal self-accusation as an enormous burden:
My thought says to me: “You are sinning in all things, and you must say
with each word, deed, or thought, ‘I have sinned’. For if you do not confess
your sin, you think that you have not sinned.” And I am very oppressed,
from both sides: for I am not able to say this in every instance, but if I do
not say it, I feel that I have not sinned.95
Barsanuphius assures his disciple that the constant practice of self-blame
is impossible; instead, he must work to acquire a general attitude of self-
blame. To do so, he recommends that the monk adopt a less strenuous
practice, only confessing his sin [to God] during morning and evening
prayer.

IV. Pain and Corporal Punishment

Shenoute compares instruction in the fear of God to corporal punish-
ment:  “Like a father teaches his son with a rod because he desires that
his soul be saved from death, because he loves him very much, thus also
let us teach ourselves in the fear of standing at the bema of the Lord.”96
But corporal punishment had a more specific role in the fear of God: to
inculcate in disciples a sense of the bodily pain – ranging from light blows
to extreme, spectacular torments – which was often invoked by monastic
leaders in their threats of post-mortem punishment.97 It is possible that the
self-infliction of bodily pain through particularly stringent asceticism had
a similar effect.
Pain and post-mortem punishment. Pachomius referred to an “hour of
chastisement” when the sinner “will be handed over to pitiless angels and
you will be chastised in torments of fire for all eternity.” Theodore, for his
part, mentions “shame, the flame, and unfailing reproach.” The biographi-
cal tradition contains a number of striking accounts by Pachomius out-
lining the excruciating post-mortem punishments of sinners, which were

95
Bars., Resp. 442 (SC 451: 520).
96
Shenoute, Canons 3, unpublished (FR BN 1302 f. 53v). For violence and social control more gener-
ally in the small-scale communities of the late Roman world, see Cooper and Wood Forthcoming.
97
According to Czachesz 2012, 43–44 (with references), most humans assume that biophysical func-
tions (in contrast to cognitive and affective ones) cease after death; if this is so, the threat of post-
mortem pain may have met with skepticism, just as corporal punishment in monasticism was
controversial.
170 Cognitive Disciplines
explicitly intended to provoke the fear of God in disciples and lead to
discernment: “The Lord gave to him the unspeakable gift, that he might
terrorise us through revelations, with which the Lord teaches him, so that
they might consider the good and the evil.”98
These visions closely resemble an extensive tradition of apocryphal
literature, such as the Apocalypse of Paul, which was used in a monastic
context.99 Thus, in one biographical anecdote, Pachomius relates how
“torturing angels” guided him through Hell, where he sees a number of
people, including former monks, being punished in a creative way that
reflects the nature of their offense.100 For example, “a fire was consuming,
one by one, the members with which it [the soul] had sullied itself in the
world.” Shocked by these visions, he begins to teach his monks about post-
mortem punishment immediately after discussing the scriptures, “so that
they might have the fear of God and might avoid sinning and falling into
such punishments and into the tortures which he had seen.”
Another vision of Pachomius involves the entire community wander-
ing lost in a shadowy underworld.101 This time, he sees a number of indi-
viduals under his care who are in trouble, and after the vision he notified
them “and advised them to struggle in the fear of God and to live.” This
strategy of naming people in a horrific vision of punishments incorporates
these events into disciplinary practice; in this case, the punishments are
not invoked as a deterrent  – an example of the divine judge’s terrifying
power displayed upon the body of anonymous sinners – but as a personal
warning addressed to individual disciples.
Discipline through Corporal Punishment. The threat of post-mortem
pain was made real to disciples through corporal punishment, a disciplin-
ary strategy that was employed when others failed, as suggested by one of
the few Pachomian sources to mention it:102
He who has the terrible habit of soliciting his brothers through speech and
perverting the souls of the simple, he will be admonished three times. If he
is contemptuous and remains with an obstinate spirit in hardness [of heart],
they will separate him outside the monastery, and he will be beaten before

98
V. Pach. S6 (CSCO 99/100: 264).
99
See e.g. Copeland 2004. The Syriac version of the Apocalypse of Paul includes a preface that explic-
itly calls on the current wicked generation to repent when they hear of the future chastisements,
thus replicating the goal of Pachomius’s revelations.
100
V. Pach. SBo 88. The guide, usually angelic, is a usual theme in these texts. See Himmelfarb 1983.
101
V. Pach. SBo 103.
102
PIud 4 (Boon: 65).
 Learning the Fear of God 171
the gates and they will give him only bread and water to eat outside until
he is cleansed of his filth.
This passage combines the two most severe forms of bodily discipline:
enforced separation from the community, a disciplinary strategy outlined
above in the discussion of shame; and physical beating.
Corporal punishment might be employed as an alternative, or sup-
plement, to enforced separation. For Shenoute, light beatings of the feet
with a rod, usually at the gate of the monastery, seems to have been a
routine form of discipline, with the number of beatings varying according
to the gravity of the sin.103 In The Rule of the Master, boys were punished
by whipping, probably on analogy to the custom of beating children at
grammar school. For more mature disciples, excommunication is deemed
more effective for removing sins: “So concerning the reason for correc-
tion: the root of the heart aught to be purged of the thorns of sins through
excommunication, [because] it is unjust that someone is forced to expe-
rience a penalty for another’s fault, as the limbs of the body, to which sin
has been imposed through an unwanted command of the heart.”104 On
the other hand, the Rule of the Master also assigns corporal punishment
to adults for particularly serious offenses, such as fleeing the monastery
or stealing.
The most severe forms of corporal punishment seem to have been
employed when enforced separation did not produce the required demon-
stration of humility:105
But if excommunicated brothers show themselves to be so proud that,
persisting in the pride of the heart they decline to appease the abbot by
the ninth hour of the third day, let them be struck with rods, while being
restrained, until they are near death; and if it pleases the abbot, let them
be expelled from the monastery, because such a life has nothing to do with
bodily necessities, nor is the society of brothers concerned with those whom
death possesses in their proud soul.
Such brutal beatings may have been particularly directed at prominent
monks who challenged the leader’s authority. Shenoute, for instance, gives
a particularly graphic depiction of how he beat some recalcitrant monks,
among them a prominent elder, who subsequently left the community,

103
On corporal punishment in Shenoute’s Canons, see Krawiec 2002, passim. In Discourses 4, God is
Blessed, Shenoute exhorts parents to discipline non-monastic children for the sake of maintaining
their purity (Chassinat 1911: 167–171; trans. Brakke and Crislip 2015, 283–284).
104
RM 14 (SC 106: 62).
105
RM 13 (SC 106: 46).
172 Cognitive Disciplines
apparently in danger of death. In a defense of his actions delivered to the
leaders of the White Monastery federation, he notes that they would have
been milder for “little children” than for “big men.”106
In response to the charge that he “has killed a man,” Shenoute evoca-
tively describes his harsh disciplinary assault, noting that it will not result
in a charge against him in the divine court:107
What is [the charge] against me, breaking some large rods over this kind
of person, as I  wrench them from the elders gathered around? While we
were assembled in the house of God, I beat those undisciplined men, many
of whom have become estranged from the congregation . . . What is [the
charge] against me, casting pieces of wood to the ground and binding them
with cords? . . . What is [the charge] against me, arising in wrath, and throw-
ing a man to the ground as I beat him with my hands, and break pieces of
pottery over him, as the elders and the presbyter restrain me?
Indeed, he had been too patient, and was required to punish them in
order to fulfill his oath to God: “But thanks be to God, because that man
[Shenoute] turned from his endurance, especially because the Lord blessed
him when he completed his oath, because he [the Lord] is also the one
who will judge him [Shenoute] if he abandons his oath.” He then contin-
ues to defend his actions to the congregation as an agent of violent divine
justice: “What is [the charge] against me, binding men like this to wood
or stakes, as I beat them until their body is bruised, and gashed, and pours
out blood?” This brutality is appropriate because it is directed at authority
figures rather than naïve children: “We are not doing this to children who
have not yet learned the truth, so that we can say, ‘Perhaps they will repent
and we will be encouraged for our work’.”108
Finally, Shenoute argues that his beatings are intended to force the sin-
ful monks to repent: “What is [the charge] against me, compelling with
tortures some misanthropic, evil men to do good, although they do not
want to, because they are lovers of evil?” How will torture make malicious
monks change their behavior? The pain of the rod or whip is meant to
instill a sense of the suffering that awaits those facing post-mortem con-
demnation, to aid in the incorporation of the fear of God, which moti-
vates repentance. Indeed, the monastic discipline of corporal punishment

106
Note that Shenoute seems to suggest that corporal punishment is inappropriate for young children,
in contrast to what he says in the passage in Canons 3 quoted above; perhaps he is only referring to
the particularly harsh kind that he is about to describe.
107
Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau: 2.303–304).
108
Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau: 2.304).
 Learning the Fear of God 173
corresponds quite clearly to the threat of receiving painful blows from
angels after death. Thus, Pachomius related his vision of the soul’s harsh
treatment at the hands of angels who collect it from the body.109 Yet this
teaching, like divine omniscience and clairvoyance, was depicted in hagi-
ography as controversial. Thus, when Theodore warns a group of recal-
citrant monks, “You will receive great blows,” he is met with laughter
and the response, “Things like this don’t happen!” He then appeals to the
authority of Pachomius:110
For the elders among you also heard our father say, when he was still in the
body, after the brother who was unrighteous in his actions died, “He will
receive great blows from the Lord.” And he also ordered the brothers not
to write his name among the deceased brothers. And when a great brother,
an elder, answered him, “With respect to blows, it is a matter of no con-
sequence,” did our father not immediately answer him, “O those who lack
discernment! Perhaps you (pl.) even think that the blows of God are like the
blows of humans.” Often (it is a matter of ) these severe blows of which we
are told in the Gospel: “He will be thrown into the fire until the end of the
age” (Mt 13:42), or even worse than this. And when the brothers heard this
additional testimony from our father Theodore, namely, that of our father
Pachomius, they were afraid and they took steps to labor more in order to
escape those painful blows.
Despite Pachomius’ claim that divine and human blows are incomparable,
monastic leaders used the whip to impart on the body a practical knowl-
edge of the post-mortem suffering which they so frequently proclaimed.
Still, the extreme brutality of some forms of corporal punishment
stretched the disciplinary system, and in particular the rhetoric of remedial
discipline, to its limit, in ways that lighter forms of rebuke did not. In a
confession before God and the congregation, Shenoute reveals how deliv-
ering beatings causes him psychic trauma: “You see, Lord, that the heart
and soul of this man [Shenoute] becomes like a wound which is difficult
to treat.” However, his oath to become a leader obligates him to deliver
punishment for the sake of his flock, and thus he feels indecisive and full
of anxiety: “If he [Shenoute] whips those who deserve to be disciplined,
he is troubled because he fears that they will die; but if he puts up with
them he fears because he will be judged by God [because of his oath as a
leader].”111 An anecdote about Pachomius in his biographical tradition sug-
gests a similar ambivalence to corporal punishment in the Koinonia. The

109
V. Pach. SBo 82.
110
V. Pach. SBo 149 (CSCO 99/100: 197–198).
111
Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau: 2.306–307).
174 Cognitive Disciplines
ex-mime Silvanos demonstrates a habitual lack of discipline, and is about
to be stripped of his monastic garb and expelled. When he begs for forgive-
ness, Pachomius responds:112
You know how many times I have tolerated you, and how many times I have
admonished you, so that I even beat you often, although I am a person who
does not ever want to stretch out my hand for this purpose. When it was
necessary to do this for you, I was more in pain in my soul than you, while
you were beaten, on account of sympathy. I thought to beat you on account
of your salvation in God, so that by this we would be able to correct you
from error. Now if you did not change when I admonished you, nor did you
improve when I exhorted you, nor were you afraid when I beat you, how
can I forgive you any more?
Like Shenoute, Pachomius is aware of the disjunction between concern for
his disciples’ salvation and the physical suffering he inflicts upon them; he
further explains that his dislike of corporal punishment results from the
empathy he feels as a director of souls.
This story suggests that Pachomius used corporal punishment as a last
resort before expulsion. Since Silvanus did not reform himself after the
beatings, there is no other choice than to force his departure. Similarly,
Theodore expels the group of monks who did not believe in suffering at
death. In both cases, the disciples did not successfully learn the fear of
God, whether through oral teaching or bodily discipline; as a result, they
were deprived of their monastic identity. Unlike other forms of punish-
ment, expulsion was not remedial, since it was understood to hand the
departing monks over to Satan, signifying their social death and subse-
quent damnation. This action instead served as a deterrent for the remain-
ing monks, offering an example of the fate that they, too, might suffer on
earth and at the divine tribunal if they did not successfully regulate their
own thoughts and behavior through the fear of God.
The self-infliction of pain? Although the monastic teaching and disci-
pline that was related to shame and guilt encouraged disciples to exercise
self-scrutiny and self-blame, it is not clear whether instruction in post-
mortem punishment and corporal discipline was meant to instill a masoch-
istic habit of self-inflicted pain. On the one hand, there is some evidence
for monks voluntarily subjecting themselves to extraordinary duress, even
inflicting physical harm. However, these practices were largely confined to
Syria, and even there they seem to have been reserved for ascetic virtuosos,

112
Paralip. 2 (Halkin: 124–125).
 Learning the Fear of God 175
rather than beginning disciples. On the other hand, Shenoute character-
ized routine ascetic practices such as fasting and vigils as “acts of repen-
tance,” much as he considers his corporal discipline an involuntary form
of repentance for the punished monk. Voluntary fasting and vigils might
thus be viewed as a means of experiencing bodily discomfort analogous to
the suffering caused by post-mortem punishment; according to this inter-
pretation, asceticism in its most general sense helped disciples acquire the
fear of God.

V. Individual Exercises in the Fear of God

Monks cultivated the fear of God through methods other than the oral
instruction, discipline, and related practices discussed above. In the fol-
lowing section, I  consider some of these additional techniques, namely
contemplation of the last judgement with the aid of immediate physical
environment, such as the cell, or paintings; and meditation on extended
literary descriptions of divine punishment.
Physical Environment and the Fear of God. The monastery’s physical
environment could be used as an aid to meditating on the fear of God,
through the exercise of the visual and olfactory senses. The most important
such environment was the monk’s own cell. A  Greek homily attributed
to Ephrem encourages monks to imagine Hades by going into their cells,
closing all the windows, and reflecting upon their solitary confinement in
complete darkness.113 The cell could also be used as a tool for imagining
that God was observing the monk’s thoughts. Jerome reported his distur-
bance at having such a sensation while sitting in his monastic cell in the
desert of Chalcis: “I remember that I often joined night with day as I cried
out, nor did I cease beating my chest before tranquility returned, as the
Lord commanded. I used to dread my very cell as though conscious of my
thoughts. Stern and angered at myself, I entered the desert alone.”114
In the Life and Repentance of Thais the Former Prostitute, Thais is placed
in solitary confinement in a cell in the women’s monastery where she has
been sent to repent. The emphasis on the foul smells she experiences while
there is evidence for the use of olfaction in meditation on post-mortem
punishment. Thus, when Thais asks, “Father, how do you command me

113
See Vööbus 1960, 279. It is likely that “enclosed” monks (egklēstoi) in cenobia inhabited a cell with
only a small opening for food, which could then be closed to shut out light, providing a suitable
environment for meditation in the dark. For egklēstoi at the White Monastery, see Layton 2014, 59.
114
Hier. Ep. 22:7 (Labourt: 117–119).
176 Cognitive Disciplines
to urinate?” he answers, “In the cell, however you want; you have enjoyed
myrrh and perfumes, so put up with the foul smell, so that you can get
healthy.”115 When her repentance is accepted and she leaves the cell, she
declares: “Believe me, father, from the hour in which I came into this cell,
the sins which I have done were a great filth before me, like the breath of
my nose, and thus they have not left me, not for a single moment, until
this hour.”116 Such foul smells, one presumes, await the unrepentant in
hell. This episode also suggests that meditating in darkness facilitated the
heightened use of senses other than sight.
Contemplation of art, particularly the figural paintings ubiquitous in
early Christian monasteries, was also an important aspect of acquiring
the fear of God. In an interesting passage from the biographical tradi-
tion, Pachomius meditates on what is clearly a decorated apse, depicting
Christ in the heavenly court, surrounded by angels, and crowned with
stones representing the virtues. Pachomius focuses on the eastern wall of
the sanctuary, which has become all golden, featuring two angels gazing
at an image of Christ wearing a crown of “measureless glory,” with stones
representing the “fruits of the spirit:” “faith, virtue, fear, mercy, purity,
humility, righteousness, patience, kindness, gentleness, self-mastery, joy,
hope, and perfect charity.”117
Pachomius then prays: “Lord, may your fear come down upon all of us
forever, so that we may not sin against you for our whole life.” The angels
warn him that it will be impossible to withstand the full force of the fear
of God, but he does not withdraw his request. All of a sudden, a terrifying
green ray of light pierces Pachomius, wounding his body, including the
heart: “When fear touched him, it penetrated all his members, his heart,
his marrow, and his whole body; and immediately he fell upon the ground
and began to jump around like a living fish.”118 This virtuoso performance
of exquisite agony, moving about in contortions on the ground under the
power of God’s discipline, was also associated with the rhetoric of ekpa-
thy employed by monastic leaders such as Shenoute, as we have seen in
Chapter 3.
This anecdote was also intended to demonstrate to all monks how to use
traditional subjects of ecclesiastical painting, especially those that depict the

115
V. Thaisis (Nau 1903: 100).
116
V. Thaisis (Nau 1903: 108–109). For more on olfaction and disgust in early Christian sources, see
Harvey 2006, 208.
117
V. Pach. SBo 73 (CSCO 107: 76).
118
V. Pach. SBo 73 (CSCO 107: 76–77).
 Learning the Fear of God 177
divine throne room, to cultivate the fear of God. Such scenes were found not
only in churches, but also in monastic cells.119 Here, disciples could heighten
their sense of shame by imagining that the divine gaze was directed specifi-
cally at them, as well as the eyes of monastic leaders and founders, who might
also be portrayed in or near the heavenly court.120 Thus, when Shenoute notes
in Canons 4 that some critical monks claim to have remained at the White
Monastery only because they felt shame “before the two eyes of our first
father who has fallen asleep,” he is perhaps referring to an actual portrait,
whose judgemental gaze shamed Shenoute’s opponents.121 Even the gruesome
punishments of sinners in Hell were depicted in paintings.122
Rhetorical Meditations and Fear of Death. Although the monastic
rhetoric of ekpathy frequently sought to cultivate the fear of God in the
audience, several more focused works adapted a standard philosophical
genre that disciples could repeat and meditate upon: a string of sententiae,
wisdom sayings of a short paratactic nature, often featuring sharp con-
trasts.123 These brief phrases, with their powerful images, are to be recited
ictu quodam, as Seneca put it, “with a certain blow,” in order to change a
false opinion through continual repetition.124 For example, Epicurean phi-
losophers advised their students to always be prepared to meditate on the
famous tetrapharmakos:125 “God presents no fears, death no worries. And
while good is readily attainable, bad is readily endurable.”126 Repeating this
would help eliminate the widespread fears of death and divine retribution,
and lead to pleasure and happiness.
By contrast, Christian sententiae sought to combat the indifference of a
life of sin, leading to death without repentance, by the practice of meletē
thanatou, “meditation on death.”127 Although monastic authors often

119
See Dilley 2008, 115.
120
For instance, in the north apse of the Red Monastery church, which in Antiquity probably
belonged to Shenoute’s monastic federation, Shenoute, Besa, Pcol, and Pshoi appear in the register
immediately beneath the Virgin and Child. See Dilley 2016.
121
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 118).
122
A painted building in Tebtunis – perhaps a monastic church – excavated by Grenfell and Hunt
contains an extensive depiction of the punishment of various sinners, with details recalling the
Coptic Apocalypse of Paul and related literature (Walters 1989, 200–204).
123
For a description of spiritual exercises that focus on their literary form, see Newman 1989,
1473–1517.
124
See the discussion of sententiae in Seneca, Ep. 94:43.
125
Hadot 1995, 87.
126
Philodemus, Adv. soph. col. 4, 9–14; translation in Long 2006, 178.
127
Fischer 1971 discusses the Platonic roots of meletē thanatou and its reception by some early Christian
theologians, including Clement of Alexandria, who identified it especially with the elimination of
bodily passions through asceticism.
178 Cognitive Disciplines
asserted that there was nothing to fear from death itself,128 some meditative
exercises shifted the context of divine retribution for sin from the scene
of judgement to death. Thus, in a meditation of Pachomius on the fear of
God, he urges:
Go out to the tombs and see the condition of humans, that it is noth-
ing. . .therefore let us weep for ourselves while we have the opportunity, lest,
when the hour of our departure arrives, we be found requesting God for
more time to repent. . .therefore let us strive with our whole heart, keeping
death before our eyes at every hour, and at every hour imagining the fearful
punishment.129
More developed meditations on death focused on the pain suffered by
individuals in their last moments of life, as in Shenoute’s De iudicio dei; or
the terrors of physical decomposition after death, in the case of the Syriac
necrosima texts attributed to Ephrem.130
Shenoute is the author of a length speech, apparently delivered to both
monks and non-monks, that includes a description in excruciating detail
of the blows suffered on the deathbed, a topic frequently discussed by
Pachomius and Theodore.131 Much like Hellenistic philosophical exercises,
it is composed of various sententiae containing graphic images about near-
death pain. Shenoute addresses a series of rhetorical questions to the anon-
ymous sufferer, unable to speak or keep down food:132
What is it that burns inside you like blown coals?
Where are your power and your voice?
Why has your voice withered and died little by little?
Why do you show astonishment in your eyes?
Why does your mouth not answer your fathers and those who speak to you?

128
e.g., one of the rules for monastic leaders in PInst 18: “Let him not fear death but God” (Boon: 59).
Augustine presents a special case, as argued in Rebillard 2013: his later sermons emphasize God’s
compassion for the emotional turmoil associated with mortality; the audience should not despair
of salvation if they or their loved ones had such feelings, because Christ himself did.
129
Paralip. 19–20 (Halkin: 144–145).
130
For a description of the necrosima texts, see Vööbus 1960, 279.
131
The text is labeled Acephalous Work A26 in Emmel’s reconstruction of Shenoute’s corpus; De
iudicio dei is the title assigned by its modern editor, Heike Behlmer (Behlmer 1996). See now the
introduction and translation in Brakke and Crislip 2015, 212–265.
132
Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 4–5). Although in the following passage, Shenoute’s addressee
might be identified as a monk (cf. the reference to his “fathers”), the work is a critique of corrup-
tion among the rich, secular authorities, church leaders, and pagans; for context, see López 2013.
Some of the work’s sententiae are relevant for monks, while others are primarily directed at seculars.
 Learning the Fear of God 179
Why has your tongue gone black through the feverish, consuming secretion
from your throat?
How is it that no nourishment is allowed to go down?
Why the gloomy face and tearful eyes?
Shenoute then answers himself: “Your soul is disturbed with fear.” In the
next segment, he compares the fate of good and evil souls, in terms very
similar to the lengthy vision of Pachomius on the same subject.133 Shenoute
continues:134
The man opens his mouth; he releases his spirit, little by little, in this way,
to the hands of those who are standing there [at the bed; these are the angels
who collect the soul from the body].
But if he is a just man he will see them and rejoice, and they will rejoice with
him, because they will bring him to the place of Abraham, as it is written.
And if he is a sinner he will see them and be devoured, and they also are
full of anger because they will cast him to the fire that does not burn out,
as it is written.
Here, he uses two successive sententiae to juxtapose the fate of the righteous
man with that of the sinner, producing the forceful contrast so character-
istic of philosophical exercises. Shenoute then returns to ironic rhetorical
questions, making frequent use of contrasts, and interrupting them occa-
sionally with narrative:135
Why did you not fight against the fever of the heat that burns you inside
and out?
Why did you not fight with those who came to receive you,
Although you were unwilling to leave your father and your mother and
your wife and your children, and your brothers, and your friends?
And although you were unwilling to leave behind your gold and your silver
and your storage which is full?
Why did you not strike those who are with you and flee to a far-away land?
Perhaps you will escape death by fleeing, leaving your stored goods behind
for others, although you have not yet had your fill of them?
Why didn’t you hide yourself in your storeroom?
Why didn’t someone else hide you and lie about you, that you are not there?
Why did you not give away all of your possessions until you were safe?
Didn’t you frequently do this to overcome your enemies?
133
V. Pach. SBo 82.
134
Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 5).
135
Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 5–6).
180 Cognitive Disciplines
Shenoute here makes a series of rapid, satirical contrasts. First, he opposes
the implied (presumably non-monastic) audience’s decision not to
renounce wealth and family during their lifetime with the enforced sepa-
ration from them at death. Shenoute then asks why they do not undergo a
mock renunciation, running to a faraway land, or giving away possessions
to buy time, a reference to the corrupt juridical processes that he contrasts
with the just divine judge throughout the work. The argument, of course,
is that while it is possible to renounce the world and repent during one’s
lifetime, there is no opportunity to do so at death, since at this point there
is no escape from divine condemnation. Later, Shenoute states this idea
more explicitly:136
He is astonished in his heart, he is ashamed in his soul, he is troubled in
his thoughts.
His spirit becomes heavy in him, little by little.
He sees that from that hour there is no way of turning himself to repent.
Those who mourn cry out in vain.
Those who honor him request that he answer them, because he is about to
depart from them.
His mouth has been shut so that he cannot speak; he does not look after
his brothers.
His full storeroom is of no concern.
He cries out for his sins, he mourns because he did not do good.
The tears circulate in his eyes.
This shocking image of a belatedly penitent man who can no longer open
his mouth and ask for forgiveness is meant to be worked over by the audi-
ence: by meditating on the end of a sinner’s life, they can learn to fear God
and repent before death. Shenoute himself describes his evocative descrip-
tion of death as a kind of ABCs in the fear of God, like basic education in
literacy:137
Who will learn to write accurately without first beginning the syllables, and
all the other instruction (paideusis) which he learns through the teacher?
Who will be able to escape Hades and the fire that is in it who has not first
taught himself the fear of the chastisements and [taught himself ] the com-
mandments which he commanded us, namely the true teacher, Jesus?
A person who, continuing his evil deeds, has not quickly abandoned them
and learned to do good has not learned to turn himself from evil and do
136
Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 9).
137
Shenoute, De iudicio dei (Behlmer: 11).
 Learning the Fear of God 181
good through meditation on the fear of death and the fear of God, which
teaches him in the scriptures.
In short, Shenoute claims that disciples must educate themselves in
the fear of death and the fear of God – which can be learned from the
scriptures  – but also through his own teaching, in order to repent and
behave properly. Indeed, having the fear of God is as important as know-
ing the commandments.

VI. The Fear of God in Action: Repentance and Prophylaxis

Monastic disciples, through teaching, discipline, and exercise, were
expected to internalize a “picture” of the fear of God, which they could
then mobilize when necessary. The practice of keeping certain images con-
stantly before the eyes, in order to influence behavior, was an important
Stoic exercise.138 For instance, Epictetus writes: “Let death and exile and
all the other things that appear dreadful be before your eyes daily, but
most of all death. And you will never consider anything wretched, nor will
you desire anything excessively.”139 The monastic teacher Dorotheus, in his
homily on the fear of God, offers similar advice, while also noting post-
mortem punishment: “The Fathers say that a person acquires the fear of
God by remembering death and remembering punishments.”140
In the Christian, and especially monastic context, “the thought of death”
and “remembering eternal punishment” were employed retrospectively, to
encourage repentance after sinning, and also prophylactically, to avoid
sinning during a battle with temptation. Pachomius gives an interesting
description of the cognitive and emotional dynamics of retrospectively
invoking the fear of God to produce repentance in a monk for having
insulted one of his brothers:141
Now then, if you hold your brother liable for the little he owes, the Spirit
will immediately place judgement and the fear of punishments in your pres-
ence. Remember also that the saints were made worthy of being mocked;
remember that Christ was mocked, insulted, and crucified because of you.
Immediately he fills your heart with mercy and fear, and you cast your-
self on your face, weeping, saying, “Have mercy on me, my Lord, because
I made your image suffer.” Immediately you get up, while in the consolation
of repentance, and run to your brother with an open heart, a happy face, a

138
Hadot 1995, 85, n. 36.
139
Epictetus, Encheiridion (Boter: 297).
140
Dor., Doct. 4:52 (SC 92: 230).
141
Pach., Instr. 1:59 (CSCO 159: 23–24).
182 Cognitive Disciplines
joyous mouth, as peace returns to you. And as you smile at your brother you
entreat him, “Forgive me, my brother, because I made you suffer.”
In this case, Pachomius associates the fear of God with remembering the
scriptures, specifically the passion of Christ. This allows him to instill guilt
in the offending monk for having repeated this traumatic event by making
his brother, an image of Christ, suffer. This guilt is associated with fear of
divine judgement and condemnation, which then provokes repentance,
reconciliation, and joyous peace. Although Pachomius attributes the
action to the “spirit,” he also offers his disciples a roadmap for the process,
suggesting that it can be taught.
Ammonas, in his Letter 10, is even more explicit about how the fear of
God can be actively induced in a faltering disciple through prayer, inner
dialogue, and focused meditation:142
If you desire that the fervour which is removed far from you should return
again and come to you, this is the work that a man is required to do: he
should make a covenant between himself and God, and cry out in passion
of heart and say to Him, “Forgive me for what I did in my neglectfulness;
I will not continue in disobedience.” And then he should not walk any more
as under his own authority in order to satisfy his own will, either in body
or soul, but rather his thoughts should be spread out before God, while he
afflicts and rebukes his own soul, saying, “How you have despised the good,
and made light of your barrenness all these days!” You should remember
all the torments, and the eternal kingdom, rebuking your soul at all times,
saying to it, “See what honour God gave you, and you have neglected and
despised it.” When a man says this to his soul, rebuking it night and day,
suddenly the fervour of God comes upon him, and this second fervour is
greater than the first.
For Ammonas, imagining “all the torments” and practicing self-rebuke led
to repentance and a renewal of “fervour.” This practice should be con-
tinual, a general attitude, a manner of speaking to the soul by “rebuking it
day and night.”
The fear of God could be used as a prophylactic, that is, as a means of
preventing the monk from sinning when faced with temptation. In par-
ticular, Pachomius demonstrates how it can be used to guard against for-
nication: “Guard yourself, O my son, from fornication . . . remember the
constraint of the punishments; place the judgement of God before you.
Flee every desire . . . remember the anguish of the hour you depart the
body.”143 Elsewhere in the same instruction, he warns monks that they will
142
Ammonas, Ep. 11, trans. Chitty, 15.
143
Pach., Instr. 1:30 (CSCO 159: 12).
 Learning the Fear of God 183
hear the divine voice of condemnation if they do not follow the command-
ments: “So now, my son, these things, and heavier than these, we will hear
if we are negligent and do not obey [the commandment] to forgive one
another.”144 In the following chapter, we will explore many instances in
which the fear of God is employed to overcome temptation.
In short, the fear of God is a form of cognitive, emotional, and bodily
knowledge that fundamentally structures one’s way of life. It is also a
very special kind of belief, as sketched out in a suggestive discussion by
Wittgenstein:145
Suppose somebody made this guidance for his life:  believing in the Last
Judgment. Whenever he does anything, this is before his mind. In a way,
how are we to know whether to say he believes this will happen or not?
Asking him is not enough. He will probably say he has proof. But he has
what you might call an unshakeable belief. It will show, not by reasoning
or by an appeal to ordinary grounds for belief, but rather by regulating for
all his life. This is a very much stronger fact – foregoing pleasures, always
appealing to his picture.
In contrast to situational belief (for example, that it will rain because it
is cloudy), the fear of God is a “stronger fact,” one that consistently and
significantly motivates behavior, such as “foregoing pleasures.” In Late
Antique monasticism, “believing” in divine judgement was so essential to
monastic identity that open skeptics were not tolerated: when a group of
monks repeatedly challenged Theodore’s assertions about the existence of
“blows” after death, he simply expelled them from the monastery.146

VII. Conclusion
While it was particularly important for novices to acquire the fear of God,
disciples had to cultivate it throughout their monastic career, inculcating
the images of shame, guilt, and pain by undergoing discipline and personal
exercises. They drew upon the fear of God in the struggle against individ-
ual temptations, and, more generally, whenever repentance was required
(including the rituals of collective repentance discussed in Chapter 7). A
revealing dialogue in the Paralipomena demonstrates the importance of the
fear of God for monks at all levels of spiritual advancement. Pachomius

144
Pach., Instr. 1:43 (CSCO 159: 17). Similarly, he begins the passage discussed above in the section on
guilt with the following admonition: “Let us not reckon with one another, lest we be reckoned with
in the hour of chastisement” (Pach., Instr. 1:41, CSCO 159: 16).
145
See Wittgenstein 1966, 53–54.
146
V. Pach. SBo 149.
184 Cognitive Disciplines
responds to a disciple’s question about the usefulness of “philosophizing,”
probably a reference to specific strategies for combatting various thoughts
found in Evagrius:147
“Why is it that, before the arrival of the pressing demon, our mind’s thought
is secure, and we philosophise about self-control and humility and the other
virtues. But when it is time to demonstrate with action what we philoso-
phize about – long-suffering during anger, forgiveness during rage, lack of
vainglory while receiving praise, and all the rest – we fail greatly?” To which
the great one answered: “Because we have not yet perfectly passed through
the active life, we do not know the entire disposition and versatility of the
demons so that we are able, when the oppressing [demon] signals its pres-
ence, to remove rapidly the surrounding confusion of such thoughts by the
contemplative power of the soul. Therefore, he says, every day and every
hour, let us pour forth the fear of God like oil through the contemplative
part of the soul, which (fear) is the accomplisher of the practical life and
the lamp for contemplation of the events which happen to us, making our
mind unshakeable, and not seized into wrath, anger, remembrance of evil,
or any of the other passions moving us into evil, making the theoretical por-
tion (of the soul) exalted to the land of incorporeals, causing it to despise
everything set in motion by the demons, and preparing it to step on snakes
and scorpions and every power of the enemy.”
This exchange suggests that Evagrian-style discourse about specific logis-
moi, such as anger and vainglory, were not unknown in Pachomian com-
munities, at least among the Greek-speaking ones of the late fourth and
fifth centuries responsible for the Paralipomena. But Pachomius asserts that
only the perfect can draw on the finer points of such learning in the face
of sudden and pressing temptation, given the mental confusion it brings.
The fear of God brings universal focus to the mind, steadying it in the face
of demonic tactics of every kind. Furthermore, it perfects the practical
(praktikē) and contemplative (theoretikē) life, the two pillars of Evagrian
ethics, both repelling temptation and drawing the monk’s attention to the
“land of incorporeals.”148
While the Pachomian sources, and related cenobitic traditions, do not
share Evagrius’s detailed roadmap of cognitive and emotional develop-
ment, they do place great importance on moral progress, from a neophyte
learning to follow all the rules to advanced monks such as Pachomius

147
Paralip. 12, Halkin: 136.
148
Evagrius often distinguishes between two stages of moral progress:  the practical (praktikē); and
the gnostic (gnostikē), sometimes called the contemplative (theoretikē). See the introduction to his
system in Harmless 2004, 347–350.
 Learning the Fear of God 185
and Theodore visualizing heaven and experiencing many visions. While
the best measure of progress in the Koinonia were the different forms of
prayer, the fear of God was crucial in all stages. It was used by beginners in
requesting divine aid during periods of acute temptation; and was closely
related to advanced technologies of the imagination, such as contempla-
tion of the divine glory, whether through the majesty of creation or the
heavenly court.
 Ch apter 5

Prayer and Monastic Progress

From Demonic Temptation to Divine Revelation

“After a person makes a covenant with God to do his will and keep
his commandments, he progresses (prokopte) in the covenant which
he has made, and later he is entrusted with the fruits of the Spirit,
through which he began.” V. Pach. S101
“Do not stop blessing him without cease, saying “You are blessed,
Lord, the one who created me from earth when I did not exist,” until
the godless thought which the devil has cast into your heart com-
pletely [disappears] from your heart.” Hors., Instr. 62
This chapter explores the progressive implementation of prayer, the third
cognitive discipline, from confrontations with strong temptations at
the beginning stages of the care of souls, to the more advanced forms of
spiritual perception, as the disciple gradually obtains fruits of the Spirit.3
Although there is not enough evidence to trace this process from begin-
ning to end for any one individual, the Pachomian sources offer a number
of brief “case-studies” of monks at the various stages, which together give a
coherent picture of progress through the care of souls. The nature of prayer,
understood broadly as communication (including one-sided) between a
human and God, varied according to the monk’s level of advancement.
The dialogue of prayer, which often included meditation on scripture and
the fear of God, was a key practice through which disciples adopted the
monastic theory of mental life, from its deepest struggles to its highest
spiritual capacities.
In fact, prayer is the engine through which monks guided and measured
their progressive return to a virtuous and pure mental life. As we have seen,
Pachomian tradition identified conscience, free will/choice, discernment,

1
CSCO 99/100: 83.
2
CSCO 159: 74.
3
“Some among the faithful have born for themselves a portion of the fruits of the spirit, but have not
yet been able to bear other portions.” (V. Pach. S10, CSCO 99/100: 82).

186
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 187
perception, and wisdom as the basic structures of the human soul. In the
initial stages, the dialogue is one-sided, as God speaks through the con-
science or the monastic director to encourage obedience. The battle with
temptations such as porneia demanded that the monk appeal to God for
help, while exercising the mental processes of discernment and free will.4
While initial prayers were often simple recitations of scripture, disciples
might also follow more extensive prayer scripts, with expected cognitive
and affective outcomes: for example, blessing God as creator was intended
to cultivate the perception of divine beneficence and produce a lasting
sense of joy.5 These prayers of thanksgiving were often combined with
intense visual meditation on the glories of heaven and the divine court, a
practice of mental image cultivation related to the numerous revelations
described in the Pachomian literary tradition.

I. Rules, Thoughts, and the Conscience

According to the Pachomian sources, the key to progress lay in following
the terms of the covenant made with God at the beginning of one’s monas-
tic life: “After a person makes a covenant with God to do his will and keep
his commandments, he progresses (prokopte) in the covenant which he has
made, and later he is entrusted with the fruits of the Spirit, through which
he began.”6 Horsiesius’s Testament and Theodore’s Instruction Three, which
Veilleux described as “the two most articulate and beautiful expressions
of Pachomian spirituality,” both emphasize obedience to the will of God
through following the commandments of Pachomius.7 In general, divine
law is identified with the rules of Pachomius, which are described as a “lad-
der leading to the kingdom of heaven.”8
All disciples were expected to make an effort at gaining familiarity with
the rules. In Theodore’s Instruction Three, he proclaims “let us teach the

4
Such appeals combine the functions of supplication (deēsis) and prayer (proseuchē) as described in
Origen’s fourfold typology of prayer (Or., Or. 14:2, GCS 2: 331). An excellent analysis of Origen’s
theology of prayer is found in Louth 1981, 52–74.
5
This practice corresponds to thanksgiving (eucharistia) in Origen’s typology (Or., Or. 14:2, GCS
2:  331). For the fourth type, intercession (enteuxis), which was reserved for monastic leaders, see
Chapter Six.
6
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100:  83). On the importance of progress for monastic identity, see
Bitton-Ashkelony 2003.
7
Veilleux 1982, 6. See, especially, Hors., Test. 1–5; Theo., Instr. 3:11–14. Theodore’s zeal for upholding
the rule is mentioned frequently, e.g.: “He guarded them with every firmness according to all the
precepts and canons which our righteous father laid down for us as a law in the Koinonia of the
siblings” (V. Pach. SBo 195, CSCO 89: 189).
8
Hors., Test. 22 (Boon: 121); cf. Hors., Test. 28.
188 Cognitive Disciplines
[siblings] the law of the Koinonia;”9 some rules, it seems, were even memo-
rized.10 According to Pachomius, it was critical to follow his regulations
in their entirety, even if their attention to detail seemed inconsequential.
When the kneaders in a bakery ask for more water by speaking aloud
rather than making a non-verbal signal, he rebukes Theodore, who was
supervising them: “Theodore, do those people think that these are human
things? I bear witness to you that, even if a commandment concerning
the least matter, still it is of great importance.”11 Since all the rules were
points of divine rather than merely human concern, obeying them also
contributed to the disciples’ spiritual development: “If this commandment
were not profitable for their souls, I would not have regulated concerning
it in this way.”12 Dorotheus of Gaza explains that a lack of regard for small
things creates a bad habit, leading to the neglect of important matters.13
There were two complementary aspects of the Pachomian care of
souls: counseling regarding thoughts, and upholding the rule. After dis-
cussing bad thoughts with disciples, Theodore determined that for some,
consolation would be profitable; for others, he would “rebuke skillfully
and make them vigilant to bring them to their senses by remembering the
good discernment toward God so that they might guard his command-
ments and do his will always and in everything.”14 Disobedience to the
rule was considered a fault of the heart, associated with “murmuring and
wavering thoughts.”15 Theodore emphasizes that his disciples must follow
the commandments to have a seat at the heavenly banquet, and warns
against temptation: “let none of us be excluded from the joy of the prom-
ises of our fathers on account of turning back because of the thoughts of
the one who casts evil arrows at our heart.”16
Some temptations were related to breaking the rule: eating more than the
allotted quantity (gluttony), seeking illicit physical contact (fornication),
9
Theo., Instr. 2 (CSCO 159: 39).
10
V. Pach. SBo 104.
11
V. Pach. SBo 74 (CSCO 89: 78–79). Theodore elsewhere notes the oath to act “according to the
law which Apa gave us, from a small commandment to a great one” (Instr. 3:21, CSCO 159: 50).
Similarly, in the prolog to the Long Rules, Basil emphasizes that it is necessary to fulfill all the com-
mandments, even the small ones (PG 31: 892).
12
V. Pach. SBo 74 (CSCO 89: 79). For the importance of silence, see below, Chapter Two.
13
“I always tell you that, from these small things, from saying, ‘Why this?’, ‘Why that?’, a bad habit
develops in our soul, and it is the beginning of despising important things” (Dor., Doct. 6, SC
92: 268).
14
V. Pach. SBo 191 (CSCO 89: 180). The place of rules in Pachomian spiritual direction is discussed
most recently in Giorda who argues that they have greater authority than the spiritual father
(Giorda 2009, 105).
15
Hors., Test. 19 (Boon: 121).
16
Theo., Instr. 3:29–30 (CSCO 159: 53).
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 189
or arguing with other disciples instead of silence or meditation (anger).
Conversely, pursuing a more stringent ascetic regime than required by the
rule might lead to vainglory. Indeed, any type of thought might lead to
disobedience, as suggested by Theodore’s rebuke of a cook who breaks the
rule for the weekly consumption of vegetables in order to save money:
“you have, on account of a satanic thought, cast aside the rule (canon)
given to you for the care of the siblings.”17 Vigilance was expected not only
with respect to thoughts, but also the rule, as urged by Horsiesius: “Let
us remember, and not disregard, the transgressions we have committed.
Let us investigate with an anxious heart the individual commands of our
Father and those who have taught us.”18

Condescension
Despite the importance of adhering to the monastic rule, some regula-
tions, particularly those relating to asceticism, were modified to accom-
modate the needs of individual disciples.19 Thus, the preface to the Letters
of Barsanuphius and John specifically warns against adopting the advice
offered in this correspondence as a general rule:  “Often, they answered
with a view to the weakness of thought of the one making the inquiry,
condescending according to [divine] economy, lest the inquirer fall into
despair, as we see in the lives of the elders.”20 In the Pachomian biographi-
cal tradition there are multiple accounts of such “condescension,” that
is, temporarily alleviating the rules in order to encourage less dedicated
monks – especially the class of junior monks known as “neophytes” – to
remain in the community.
A “neophyte” refers to a disciple who had recently joined the com-
munity.21 Their lack of socialization was a cause of embarrassment to
Pachomius, who attempted to shield them from the eyes of visiting
monks:  “Because I  have frequently seen that the cenobium has diverse
people: neophytes who do not yet know what a monk is, and children who
cannot distinguish their right and their left.”22 When Theodore refuses to
speak to his brother Paphnouti, who has recently become a monk (genesthai

17
Paralip. 8:16 (Halkin: 139).
18
Hors., Test., 5 (Boon: 111).
19
These reflected gender, age, social role, personal history, and even exceptional character traits. For
more on the importance of individual persona in Hellenistic philosophical ethics, in particular
Stoicism, see Sorabji 2006, 157–171.
20
Bars., Resp., prolog (SC 426: 160).
21
V. Pach. G1 109: “a neophyte having become a monk (genomenos monachos) yesterday” (Halkin: 71).
22
V. Pach. G1 40 (Halkin: 25).
190 Cognitive Disciplines
monachou), Pachomius urges him to relax his discipline, citing the impor-
tance of condescension: “Condescension (sunkatabasis) is good with such
[monks] at the beginning, as loving care and watering is good with a newly
planted tree [a play on neophyte], until it is rooted in faith.”23 In this case,
Paphnouti is not quite ready to sever family ties with his older brother,
especially since they reside in the same monastic community.
Elsewhere in the biographical tradition, Pachomius and Theodore practice
a joint condescension by agreeing to allow a promising monk to visit his fam-
ily outside the monastery. Theodore accompanies the monk during his visit,
and even violates his own ascetic principles by eating with the family. When
they return, Theodore threatens to leave the Koinonia, because the Gospel
commandment to “hate father and mother” (Lk 14:26) has not been fol-
lowed by the disciples. When the monk reports this to Pachomius, he replies
that Theodore is a “neophyte” and must be encouraged to stay.24 This almost
comedic reversal of monastic status ends with Theodore exhorting the monk
to swear an oath that he will cease familial visits and live by the Gospel.25
In a similarly temporary reversal, when Pachomius begins to weave a mat
while visiting Tabennesi, a young monk who fails to recognize him explains
Theodore’s technique; Pachomius joyfully obeys, and does not reveal his iden-
tity nor chastise the disciple for improperly breaking the silence.26 Thus new
monks sometimes received accommodations with regard to monastic rules,
with the understanding that they would eventually conform to them.

The Conscience
According to Pachomian anthropogony, conscience is one of the five psy-
chic faculties that God created in humans, alongside free choice, percep-
tion, discernment, and wisdom.27 In the context of the history of salvation,
it acts as a moral compass for all, including those without divine law:28

23
V. Pach. G1 65 (Halkin: 43); cf. V. Pach. SBo 38.
24
V. Pach. SBo 63. Cf. V. Pach. G1 121/V. Pach. SBo 138, in which Theodore is again mistaken as a neo-
phyte by another monk, who warns him not to be scandalized by the behavior in the bakery. In the
Bohairic version, the monk further explains that there are “all kinds of people” in the community,
echoing V. Pach. G1 40.
25
V. Pach. SBo 63. In V. Pach. G1 68, it is an elder who insists upon visiting his family, arguing that it
is impossible to follow the commandments fully.
26
V. Pach. SBo 72.
27
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 41). It is also named in Pachomius’s prayer glorifying God as creator
(V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/100: 114). See further Ruppert 1971, 110–121.
28
V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100:  326); cf. the allusion to Hebrews 10:22 at V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/
100: 43).
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 191
There is no sin nor pollution next to God other than disobedience to His
law and His commandments, to transgress them; or (disobedience) to the
good conscience, which the Lord placed in each person, whether those with
the law, whether those without law, which goads them not to do any evil
deed or injustice against the will of God.
Another passage similarly describes the conscience as a voice warning
against improper behavior: “If a person is ignorant of the law, conscience
pricks him, (saying) ‘this deed is not good’. To others it bears witness
according to the knowledge of the heart, (saying) ‘you will sin against
the Lord if you do this’. To still others it bears witness, (saying) ‘If they
[demons/temptations?] attain to you, you will be in danger. . .’ ”29 Thus the
conscience is presented as a universal aspect of cognition that God uses to
communicate directly with his followers.30
Disciples were expected to listen to the dictates of their conscience
and to follow them, in addition to obeying monastic law, which the con-
science both upheld and supplemented. For example, when Theodore
cooks porridge for the weak monks, Patlole, who is young and strong and
therefore has no need for this concession, is tempted to partake of it with
the others. This prompts the “Spirit of God” to warn him: “thoughts of
the flesh are assailing you.” He disobeys “this thought which was put in
him by the Lord,” thus prompting a public rebuke from the clairvoyant
Theodore.31 Patlole then exclaims: “Pray for me, because I scorned my con-
science (suneidēsis) regarding the thing which I was considering; because
I  disobeyed the good suggestion of my heart, the Lord has rebuked me
openly.”32 In his Third Instruction, Theodore describes how a scorned con-
science acts on its own to rebuke the offender:  “[God] allows our con-
science (suneidēsis) to burn us every time that we do not work according to
what is worthy of the holy vocation of the habit which we wear.”33 Indeed,
sinful monks were directed to “take shelter in the conscience of God,”
which would provoke weeping and repentance.34

29
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 42). Cf. V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100: 332), concerning married peo-
ple refusing to follow the good conscience that God put in them, e.g., to practice abstention or
become monks.
30
Like thoughts, the conscience is also monitored by God, as proclaimed by Theodore in this
prayer: “Lord, you who know my heart and my thoughts and my conscience and my goal” (V. Pach.
SBo 198, CSCO 89: 193).
31
V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 89: 96).
32
V. Pach. SBo 87 (CSCO 89: 97); cf. V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99/100: 158).
33
Theo., Instr. 3:1 (CSCO 159: 40). Similarly, in a later dialog with Horsiesius, God is said to punish
sinners until their conscience is purified V. Pach. S15 (CSCO 99/100: 351).
34
Pach., Instr. 1:31 (CSCO 159: 16).
192 Cognitive Disciplines
Given this potential for ignoring one’s conscience, Theodore was pre-
sented as a model for recognizing and following its instructions. As an
adolescent, he is “pricked with a strong feeling” to take up fasting dur-
ing a feast, and immediately begins an ascetic regime.35 As leader of the
Koinonia, he quickly awakens and obeys an angelic command to enter
the church sanctuary, “for he walked in great vigilance of conscience and
unshakeable faith.”36 These stories assume that it is easy to identify the
divine voice of conscience; in moments of uncertainty, it could be actively
sought through prayer, as described in a fragmentary episode in the Third
Sahidic Life, probably also about Theodore:37
“So now the Lord God of our father Pachomius gave me the method of vigi-
lance (nēphe) so that I might be able to confirm the words that have come
from my mouth in your presence [i.e., the vow], and the commandments
which your servant assigned to me. Reveal to me, in my heart, your will,
and what I should do to please you.” And when he finished praying these
words, this thought alighted on his heart, coming from the Lord: “When it
happens that you eat a little bread and you are thirsty and you practice self
control with yourself not to drink water on many occasions, and indeed,
when you are sitting, so that you might labor, you are always vigilant in the
fear of God.” After this thought alighted on his heart, he believed that it was
from God, and thus he conducted his life according to his ability, not only
in his visible life, but according to this hidden deeds.
The speaker apparently is uncertain about the appropriate level of fasting
for him, which is understandable given that the rules only specify a mini-
mum level of austerity. After a prayer taught by Pachomius, he accepts as a
divine order the first thought to come into his mind.
Less advanced monks who were unable to identify the divine voice
in their conscience could also consult their spiritual adviser. Following
Theodore’s prayer for guidance on the proper level of fasting, a disciple
approaches him in his cell, asking whether he should eat the good or bad
portions at the table. Theodore advises that he eat the good part, and the
disciple questions whether God would not “cast [him] into the fire.” When
Theodore suggests taking some good and some bad portions, his disci-
ple then asks a similar question about the selection of good or bad reeds.
The hagiographer explains that the disciple “said these things being igno-
rant of the goal (skopos) of his heart, because he had ceased regulating

35
V. Pach. SBo 31 (CSCO 89: 34).
36
V. Pach. SBo 184 (CSCO 89: 163).
37
V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/100: 120–121).
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 193
himself through his conscience (suneidēsis).”38 Although this story does not
specify how the disciple had lost touch with his conscience, another pas-
sage describes how a sinner “destroys his own conscience and he burns it
so that it does not prick him from that time.”39
Despite the lure of demonic temptation, disciples not only had the con-
science as a guide, but also possessed the ability to follow it, given their
psychic faculty of free will (autexousion), defined as the power “to listen or
not to listen” to the evil one.40 Another interesting passage suggests that
God’s command to Adam to avoid eating from the tree of knowledge was
a means of testing his free will.41 Indeed, free will concerns not only the
ability to accept or reject demonic temptation, but also a willing obedi-
ence to divine commandments. Thus, when Theodore rebukes the leaders
who rebelled against Pachomius, he provides them with the opportunity
to repent, and to make a new covenant with him based on their free choice
(prohairesis).42 Theodore’s Third Instruction also urges that the command-
ments of Pachomius be obeyed with free choice (prohairesis), as opposed to
an empty obedience with grumbling and murmuring.43

II. Combatting Porneia: Prayer, Discernment, and

Free Choice
We will now explore how the struggles against a particular temptation,
porneia, unfolded in the related arenas of monastic rule and personal cog-
nition. Often translated as fornication, porneia might encompass a variety
of sexual acts, as well as planning, remembering, or dreaming about them.
Along with gluttony, anger, and pride, it is among the most frequently
mentioned vices in early cenobitic monasticism.44 There are several sources
for the construction of porneia:  stories in the Pachomian Lives; rules in
the Pachomian collections and the Canons of Shenoute, which mostly for-
bid various forms of contact; and the correspondence between Dorotheus

38
V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/100: 121).
39
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 42). In the First Instruction, Pachomius notes that the conscience is
made “immodest” through alcohol (Pachomius, Instr. 1:45, CSCO 159: 30).
40
V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100: 314); cf. “The Lord gave power to people to do as they want, whether
good, whether evil” (V. Pach. S3C, CSCO 99/100: 327).
41
V. Pach. S3C (CSCO 99/100: 322).
42
V. Pach. S6 (CSCO 99/100: 276).
43
Instr. 3:11 (CSCO 159: 45). Cf. Instr. 3:13 (CSCO 159: 46) and Instr. 3:41 (CSCO 159: 58). When
Pachomius assigns a sinful brother a stringent ascetic routine, he follows it, but not with his own
free choice, in the fear of God, and eventually leaves the monastery (V. Pach. SBo 107, CSCO
89: 148).
44
For the use of porneia in Shenoute’s rhetoric, see Schroeder 2006.
194 Cognitive Disciplines
and Barsanuphius about the former’s struggle with the demon of porneia
through his attraction to another monk.
Stories about sexual temptation are most widespread in the Arabic Life,
though they are found in all versions of Pachomian biography. The first
scholar to study them as a group, Ladeuze, argued that they did not imply
“the debauchery of most cenobites of Tabennisi;”45 Chitty suggested that
such accounts belonged to a later era, when Egyptian monasticism was in
decline.46 In my view, they do not provide strong evidence for widespread
sexual activity, whenever the period in which they were produced. Instead,
these anecdotes are an important source for how monks conceived of the
struggle against a particular temptation, porneia. Examined together, they
give a sense of the dangerous situations in which temptation was likely
to arise, as well as several options for responding to it. These stories also
promote the idea that monastic leaders instinctively know when porneia
is threatening the community, even if it was performed in secret, or if dis-
ciples simply consented to it in their thoughts.47
One story in particular illustrates the dangers of porneia for all disci-
ples in the community, and lists regulations intended to reduce the risk
of this temptation.48 While the brothers are working, Pachomius sees a
demon and warns them that it can enter a pure heart that lacks vigilance.
The heart, he explains, is a like large house with one hundred rooms. If a
demon takes residence in even one of these rooms, the monk must quickly
expel it before it takes over all of the other rooms, thus forcing the spirit to
leave. But Pachomius does not see defeating porneia as simply a question
of monitoring the thoughts and temptations of the heart. After delivering
this warning, he offers a series of commandments regulating close personal
contact:49
(1) “Let no one among you remain alone with his companions, unless work
requires it;”
(2) “Let no one among you take the hand of your companion, or touch any
part of his body without necessity, if someone is sick or if someone falls
and needs help to get up; in these cases, there is necessity, because of the
sickness and fall, but one must act with caution;”

45
Ladeuze 1898, 348 (translated from the French).
46
Chitty 1966, 66–67.
47
For porneia in Pachomian monasticism, see Ladeuze 1898, 327–365 and Ruppert 1971, 177–182.
48
For the following, V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 424–427).
49
V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 426–427). Curiously, these rules have not been considered in studies
of Pachomian regulations in Latin, Greek, and Coptic.
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 195
(3) “Let no one among you sit on the same seat as your companion to talk to
them, but stay far from one another to talk to them;”
(4) “Let no one among you sleep on the couch which does not belong
to him;”
(5) “Let no one enter into the cell of his companion, without legitimate
cause, to ask something of which one has need, so that the enemy finds
no place among you.”
While there are no precise equivalents to these rules in the Latin, Greek,
or Coptic versions, several of the Pachomian Precepts have similar regula-
tions against contact, including of the medical or hygienic kind: monks are
instructed not to oil or bathe a sick person (93), remove a thorn (95), or
shave another (97), unless ordered to do so. More generally, it is forbidden
for two monks to sit together on a bench or mat (95), or on a donkey or
wagon (109).50
After Pachomius issues his regulations, certain anchorites are angered,
wondering: “Is there a woman here? Are we not all of the same form and
nature? And if someone among us falls into such terrible deeds, may God
please that it not be us who falls into this terrible impurity without having
known it!”51 This comment suggests that these monks considered porneia
to be primarily a heterosexual concern, and perhaps that they were sur-
prised by the general prohibitions of contact, and worried that they had
contracted impurity unknowingly. The author of the Life, however, takes
pains to demonstrate that this is the improper attitude. The next day, a
priest arrives at the Koinonia, accompanied by two monks carrying a let-
ter from the archbishop. One of the anchorites, Mauo/Maios, reveals his
lack of discernment by mistakenly calling the priest “angelic.” Two monks
accompany him with a letter from the archbishop, describing how the
priest had attempted to commit a deed of impurity with a boy; Pachomius
sentences him to a year of solitary repentance.52
A number of the rules in Shenoute’s Canons prohibit various forms
sexual activity. While sex between men and women, autoeroticism,53 and

50
For a discussion of these and other similar regulations of homosocial behavior in Late Antique
monasticism, especially the Western sources, see Diem 2001.
51
V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 427).
52
V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 428). The story of Mauo is also found in a fragmentary part of V. Pach.
S10 (CSCO 99/100: 66ff), and in V. Pach. G1 (Halkin: 76), in which the charge is theft. Cf. the story
of Tithoes, for which the sin is pederasty in three surviving versions (V. Pach. S10, Ar 435, and V. Pach.
G3), but gluttony in V. Pach. G1.
53
Rule 6 (Layton 2014: 92–93), 48 (Layton 2014: 108–109), 57 (Layton 2014: 112–113), 571–572 (Layton
2014: 332–333).
196 Cognitive Disciplines
zoophilia54 are all condemned, there is a particular focus on same-sex
erotic activity.55 Many of these rules forbid physical contact or proxim-
ity between monks, much like those found in the Pachomian tradition,
though sometimes in greater detail. Thus, four regulations concern pal-
pating sick monks, including children;56 and three washing or anoint-
ing the sick.57 In fact, Shenoute’s Canons sometimes echo the Koinonia
regulations, except that Shenoute adds a reference to passion (epithu-
mia): “Whoever, whether it be male or female, shall sleep in pairs on a
tam-mat or whoever sleep at all close together, so as to touch and bump
against one another with desirous passion, shall be under a curse.”58 One
particularly evocative canon regulates routine monastic grooming and
basic healthcare, warning of polluting thoughts that can emerge during
this activity: “Whoever permits polluted thoughts in his heart and who
puts up with a defiled desire in his spirit while being shaved or while shav-
ing his neighbor or while having a thorn removed from his foot/leg or
while removing a thorn from the foot/legs of his neighbor, shall be under
a curse, whether it be male or female.”59
Some of the regulations in the Canons unambiguously imply genital
activity, for example “spreading” on top of or beneath another monk, or
“groping” them.60 But most describe contact that might otherwise be con-
strued as affectionate but not sexual, e.g., “cursed be male and male who
embrace one another in defiled desire” (hen-ou-epithumia en-sōōf).61 Indeed,
the concern for “desire” (epithumia) as a motive for contact is extended to
all forms of interpersonal interaction with either gender, including family
members: “Cursed be all who kiss or embrace one another with a desirous
passion (pathos en-epithumia), whether young or old, whether parent or
child, whether male or female.”62 The various references to “desire,” “desir-
ous passion,” and “defiled desire in their heart,” and “fleshly desires” all
underline that contact of any kind is dangerous and should be avoided.
The rules do not specify whether such passion is caused by the contact, or

54
Rule 54 (Layton 2014: 110–111).
55
Layton 2014, 60, with references and discussion.
56
Rules 513–516 (Layton 2014: 310–313).
57
Rules 60–62 (Layton 2014: 113).
58
Rule 95 (Layton 2014: 127).
59
Rule 127 (Layton 2014: 127).
60
Rules 1–2 (Layton 2014: 92–93), 96 (Layton 2014: 127). Cf. Rule 573 (Layton 2014: 333).
61
Rule 3 (Layton 2014: 93).
62
Rule 5 (Layton 2014: 93). More generally, “Woe to whoever among us shall run after their neighbors
with carnal longings” (Rule 132, Layton 2014: 141)
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 197
leads to it; in either case, however, physical contact or even proximity is
prohibited because of the possibility of deriving pleasure from it.63
In effect, this sub-corpus of monastic rules increased the scope of human
sexuality, that is, “the cultural interpretation of the human body’s eroge-
nous zones and sexual capacities.”64 They represent a sexualization of phys-
ical contact and the gaze at a level of detail unprecedented in the ancient
world. Thus I do not entirely agree with Foucault’s argument, based on his
reading of Cassian, that Christianity did not lead to an “intensification of
prohibitions” within sexuality, but rather to “a process of self-knowledge
which makes the obligation to seek and state the truth about oneself an
indispensable and permanent condition of this asceticism.”65 In the case of
cenobitic monasticism, intensification of prohibitions and new strategies
of self-knowledge – such as confession of thoughts and the fear of God
more generally – were closely related.
Thus many Pachomian anecdotes also emphasize that porneia, in all its
many physical manifestations, is also a question of inner temptation, to be
managed by the monk; assenting to temptation, even if not acted upon,
is known to God and will be exposed by the monastic leader. A senior
official, Apollonius, leader of the monastery at Sheneset, attempts to abuse
a younger monk under his care.66 When Pachomius visits the community,
he smells an overpowering stench like a corpse, suggesting that Satan has
killed someone. He prays all night for God to reveal the identity of the
“dead monk,” and then confronts Apollonios, who immediately confesses,
explaining that he had only plotted the impiety, but not actually com-
mitted it. Pachomius nevertheless condemns him: “You were persuaded
by the will of the devil (Mt 5:28), that you enter into a flesh of your form,
so that you do a deed contrary to nature.” Although he, too, is assigned sol-
itary penance for months, Pachomius eventually expels him, under orders
from an angel. As in the story of Mauo, the implication is that, at least for

63
Occasionally desirous passion is mentioned in other behaviors, such as eavesdropping (Rule
223) clothing (Rule 299), or greed (Rule 368).
64
Halperin 1990, 3.
65
Foucault 1999c [1982], 196. For an exploratory discussion of Foucault’s work on the history of sexu-
ality as it relates to Late Antiquity, see Boyarin and Castelli 2001.
66
V. Pach. S5 92 (CSCO 99/100: 164) cf. V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 477). Although the age of his
disciple is unspecified, as Layton notes “same-sex erotic activities between adult and child monks,
or also child-to-child contact, are repeatedly condemned” (Layton 2014, 60, with references). In
one story, when two young men are found alone, committing a sin, Pachomius expels one and
beats the other with a palm branch, explaining that he can find redemption because he did not act
voluntarily; cf. the story of a young boy found in a state of impurity, whom Pachomius expels (V.
Pach. Ar., Amélineau 1889: 510).
198 Cognitive Disciplines
monastic leaders, inner consent to the temptation of porneia is tantamount
to spiritual death, even if the act itself is not carried out.
The proper way of responding to the temptation of porneia is illustrated
by the story of Douidouna, a very pious monk who holds a position of
responsibility in the infirmary: when a handsome young man falls sick, he
notices how excited his heart becomes while serving him.67 Douidouna fol-
lows up on this careful internal vigilance with a prayer for discernment:68
Oh my God, what activity do I have in my heart? Is this young man pref-
erable to the other brothers, or sicker than they are? I pray that you reveal
to me the reason for this thing, God: because I am blind, and I do not see
whether this activity which I have in my heart is right, conforming to the
instructions which our father has given us on your behalf.
He fasts all day, and keeps vigil all night, until the Spirit of Fornication
appears to him as a beautiful woman, declaring that she had birthed in
him the thought of serving the young man; she explains that, if devout
monks accept such a thought, she gradually leads them on in the delicacies
of desire, and finally makes them fall. In contrast to Apollonius, who suc-
cumbs to temptation, Douidouna at first does not perceive the demonic
nature of his thoughts, but is able to recognize it as such after praying
to God.
The story of Douidouna might have been related to a superior, perhaps
even Pachomius or Theodore, during the process of confession. While
there is no extended evidence in the Pachomian corpus for confessions
regarding porneia or other temptations, there does exist detailed corre-
spondence on this subject between Barsanuphius and Dorotheus, who
were master and disciple at the sixth-century monastery of Tawatha near
Gaza. In particular, Letters 255–8 chronicle Dorotheus’ attraction towards
an unnamed colleague in the monastery. Dorotheus himself perceives
his attraction for his colleague to be the result of demonic temptation,
reporting to Barsanuphius that “I am being violently attacked by porneia,
and I risk falling into despair, nor can I practice self-restraint on account
of the weakness of my body. Pray for me through the Lord, and tell me
what I should do.”69 Barsanuphius assures him that he will aid him in the
struggle, urging him not to despair, because God will eventually grant him
mercy. He then warns Dorotheus, “So guard your eyes,” an allusion to the

67
See the regulations concerning physical contact in the infirmary in the Arabic Life of Pachomius and
the Canons, discussed above.
68
V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 435).
69
Bars., Resp. 255 (SC 450: 214).
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 199
frequent monastic injunction to avoid eye contact, in this case with the
brother for whom he feels attraction.
In the following letter, Dorotheus asks Barsanuphius for advice regard-
ing discernment, in particular to identify the source of temptation: is it his
own desire (epithumia), or does it come from “the enemy”?70 Barsanuphius
responds with a criterion: if he is trying to find pretexts to meet the brother,
then he is at fault, and is motivated by his own passion. Yet Barsanuphius
also asserts that Dorotheus is under attack from demons, warning him to
guard the “treasures” of his home from the Chaldeans, who will take him
captive and lead him into “Babylon.” He suggests to Dorotheus that, while
his feelings of attraction are ultimately demonic and external to him, he
still has free will and responsibility for his actions. Barsanuphius reminds
him to be vigilant regarding his thoughts, and finally advises him to avoid
all forms of association with his colleague.
This anxiety surrounding homosocial friendship, and its attendant
affections, represents a significant break from Graeco-Roman paideia,
and parallels the hyper-sexualization of physical contact in the Pachomian
rules and Shenoute’s Canons. In contrast to Gregory Nazianzen, who freely
commemorated his amicable desire for Basil of Caesarea,71 the ascetic
theorist Nilus of Ancyra sternly warned Pierius, a young man study-
ing in Alexandria, about his passionate friendship with another youth,
Dionysiodorus.72 Nilus diagnoses in Pierius’s feelings the demon of por-
neia, “which the children of the Greeks are accustomed to call erōs,” and
calls on him to break off all contact with his friend, just as Barsanuphius
recommends to Dorotheus.73
A similar concern is evident in Horsiesius’s Instruction 7, a highly rhe-
torical condemnation of “evil friendship” within the Koinonia, namely
alliances between disciples in opposition to the monastic hierarchy, which
might include sexual relationships.74 Horsiesius proclaims, “O monasti-
cism, arise and weep over your children whose virginity has been destroyed,
and over your youths who have been destroyed with them together.”75

70
Bars., Resp. 256 (SC 450: 214).
71
On the erotic vocabulary in Gregory’s Or. 43 in praise of Basil, see Børtnes 2000.
72
Nil., Ep. 2:167 (PG 79: 280).
73
Although Pierius was not a monk, another young man from Alexandria, this one anonymous,
joined the Koinonia while struggling with porneia (V. Pach. Ar., Amélineau 1889: 511ff); cf. V. Pach.
Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 518ff), on Silvanus. The Great Coptic Life similarly reports that he tries to assist
monks in “carnal sin” (V. Pach. SBo 106), but also throws them out (V. Pach. SBo 107).
74
For a similar notion of friendship in the White Monastery Federation of Shenoute, see Wilfong
2002.
75
Hors., Instr. 7:2 (CSCO 159: 76).
200 Cognitive Disciplines
Friendships were also viewed with suspicion in other cenobia.76 At the
monastery of Mount Sinai, for example, an elder intentionally creates strife
between two young monks who are threatened by the danger of porneia.77
In the next exchange (257), Barsanuphius also urges him to abstain
gradually from food and drink, despite his inability to practice a strict
ascetic regime due to bodily weakness.78 Perhaps as a result of this wide-
spread anxiety about friendship between young monks, Dorotheus writes
to Barsanuphius again (258), concerned that the other brother will become
suspicious if he suddenly ceases all contact with him. This is precisely the
sort of pretext for maintaining proximity that Barsanuphius had warned
against in the previous letter. By continuing to entertain such thoughts,
Dorotheus demonstrates self-will, rather than obedience to his advisor.
He ends the letter with an emotional appeal for help: “And I feel that the
demons are strangling me, and I am greatly afraid because of this.”79
In his final response, Barsanuphius tells Dorotheus to fear God rather
than the demons, and advises him to meditate on the last judgment: “Say
to your thought: ‘remember the fearful judgment of God and the shame
of those who do wicked deeds’.”80 At several points in their exchange, he
also recommends the recitation of biblical verses, in particular the Psalms
of David, who cried out to the Lord while under attack: “Scrutinize me,
Lord, and test me; burn my innards and my heart.”81 This establishes soli-
darity with the biblical character, and encourages Dorotheus to pray to
God while in the midst of his struggles. Barsanuphius also offered emo-
tional solidarity with Dorotheus by recounting his own extended struggle
with porneia, from which he ultimately emerged victorious: “Brother, I
too, in my youth, was often tested violently by the demon of porneia, and
I struggled very hard, fighting and talking back to (antilogōn) the thoughts,
and not consenting to them, but placing the eternal punishments before
my eyes.”82 Just like Cassian’s spiritual centurion, Barsanuphius urges
Dorotheus to mobilize the cognitive disciplines of Scripture and the fear
of God to resist his demonic temptation.

76
For a discerning study of the rich evidence for celibate same-sex friendship among ascetics in Late
Antiquity and early Byzantium, see Krueger 2011, with the cenobitic evidence at pp. 44–46.
77
Jo. Clim., Scal. 26 (PG 88: 1065); cf. Krueger 2011, 55. The same source implies that some of these
relationships were chaste, but their example could cause less pious imitators to stumble.
78
Bars., Resp. 257. Note that Pachomius assigns the young Alexandrian burdened by temptation from
porneia a stricter form of asceticism V. Pach. Ar. (Amélineau 1889: 511ff).
79
Bars., Resp. 258 (SC 450: 226).
80
Bars., Resp. 258 (SC 450: 228).
81
Bars., Resp. 258 (SC 450: 228).
82
Bars., Resp. 258 (SC 450: 226–228).
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 201
In conclusion, the Pachomian and the Palestinian sources share several
basic assumptions about porneia. First, that it can be discouraged through
behavioral modification, in particular avoidance of contact, as expressed in
the rules. Second, that it is largely a metacognitive process, in which the
management of thoughts (albeit “carnal” ones associated with the body
and its pollution) is essential. And third, that monks must struggle against,
rather than assent to, the temptations of porneia, regardless of whether they
are acted upon. While Foucault compared early confession to Freudian
psychoanalysis, based especially on his reading of Cassian,83 Barsanuphius’s
advice resembles more closely the goals of modern cognitive behavioral
therapy, which seeks to control unwanted emotion through identifying
unwanted thoughts and reassessing their assumptions and significance.84
Dorotheus himself identifies his desire to spend time with his fellow monk
as demonic temptation; he has no secret motions of the unconscious to
unmask. His primary task is to avoid assenting to porneia through the
application of cognitive disciplines, namely scripture and the fear of God;
Barsanuphius advises him to consider post-mortem punishment rather
than act on his desire.

III. Pachomian Techniques of Prayer

Prayer was as important to the care of souls in Pachomian monasticism as
the rule. Understood broadly as a dialogue with God, it included the inces-
sant scriptural recitation at work and while on the move throughout the
day. Additionally, there was a daily communal prayer at the early morn-
ing synaxis, and the so-called “six prayers” in the evening, at individual
houses.85 These gatherings included a prayer technique in which scrip-
tural recitation was closely coordinated with bodily movements, includ-
ing regular genuflections; this activity was required of monks periodically

83
Foucault 1999b, 178–179. As Virginia Burrus explains, “On Foucault’s reading, ascetic Christianity –
whether Augustine’s or John Cassian’s version  – initiates a trajectory of discursive ejaculation (a
transformation of ‘sex into discourse’) that eventually intersects, via the seventeenth century confes-
sional, with the modern practice of psychoanalysis” (Burrus 2007b, 10). Another account of the
relationship between confession and psychotherapy is found in Jackson 1999, 143–162.
84
For an argument that Stoics were the first practitioners of cognitive therapy, see Sorabji 2002, 159;
cf. Gill 2013. On modern cognitive behavioral therapy, see, e.g., Craske 2010, and Morelli 2004 on
connections to Christian asceticism. Barsanuphius’s advice also includes behavioral modification,
namely the avoidance of eye contact with, or even proximity to, the desired monk.
85
For the former, see PI 3, 5–7, and 11–12; for the latter, PLeg 10, PInst 14. The evidence is collected and
discussed in Veilleux 1968, 276–323. For the divine office at the White Monastery, which included
five daily rounds of prayer, with the first and the last during the monastic assembly, see Layton 2014,
7–72.
202 Cognitive Disciplines
throughout the day, even while outside of the synaxis.86 Horsiesius urges
that the “regulations (kanōn) of prayer” be carefully attended to, whether
at the synaxis, in the houses, or on work trips outside the monastery: “Let
us pray to God with our whole heart, while paying heed to the prayer, with
our hands outstretched in the sign of the cross, speaking the prayer which
is written in the Gospel, while the eyes of our heart and those of our body
are lifted up to the Lord, as it is written, ‘I have lifted up my eyes to you,
Lord, he who dwells in heaven, as the eyes of servants gaze at the hands of
their master (Ps 123:1–2)’.”87
Most previous studies of Pachomian prayer have concentrated on recon-
structing the liturgy, rather than examining its role in the monastic care of
souls. Theodore contrasts prayer with the false pleasure and pollution of
evil thoughts:88
. . .while he is deranged by the thoughts of evil and takes pleasure in them
and gives way to the sleep of death (and) while he wants (to do) them. He
was not vigilant to cry out to God in his heart, “Save me, because water is
coming up to my soul; I have sunk to the mud below and am powerless”
(Psalm 68, 2–3).
As a cognitive discipline, prayer constituted an important strategy for
refocusing one’s attention and energies from demonic attack to the divine
kingdom: “So be vigilant, and consider your promises, and flee haughti-
ness, and tear yourself from him, so that he does not tear away the eyes
of your mind, and render you blind, so that you do not consider the road
to the city, your dwelling place: so again, consider the city of Christ, and
glorify him, because he died for you.”89 Like the fear of God, prayer is
a technology of the imagination directed at God’s majesty, especially as
reflected in his creation and the heavenly court, although the emphasis is
on joyful praise, rather than the terror and pain of the judgement scene.
Theodore explains that the more intense the scriptural recitation, the more
fervent the love for God produced by it.90
According to Pachomian anthropology, the basis of prayer lies in per-
ception (aisthēsis), a general sense of the goodness of God and the spiri-
tual gifts attained through him: “Perception is such that the man of faith

86
Although Veilleux notes that monks are said to “bless God,” he does not explore the significance of
this phrase in his discussion of the theology of prayer (Veilleux 1968, 315–323).
87
Hors., Reg. 6 (CSCO 159: 84).
88
Theo., Instr. 3:9 (CSCO 159: 44–45).
89
Pach., Instr. 1:27 (CSCO 159: 11).
90
Theo., Instr. 3:26 (CSCO 159: 44). Note that this is a form of prosopopoeic recitation of Scripture,
as discussed in Chapter Three.
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 203
perceives through it the grace of the Lord, but also that he perceives that
everything good which is done is done through the grace of God . . .”91
A  lengthy but fragmentary passage in the Sahidic Life describes how a
disciple making progress “has perceived (aisthane) the grace which the
Lord works through him, as David says, ‘What will I give in return to the
Lord for everything which he has done for me?’ ” (Psalm 115, 3). This state
of perception is achieved through soul-work, as when David “exhorts”
his soul: “And also how he discerns with his own soul, with perception,
saying ‘my soul, bless the Lord, and everything inside me, bless his holy
name . . .’ ” (Psalm 102, 1).92 Similarly, perception entails reflecting on God’s
beneficial actions as recorded in the Scriptures.93
Several passages from the biographical tradition describe how monastic
leaders can help sinners acquire perception: as Pachomius explains, “when
you do something good for an evil man, they will arrive at a perception
(aisthēsis) of the good.”94 But perception is a skill that must be honed
through constant prayer, and in particular thanksgivings for divine benefi-
cence. Although Basil of Caesarea does not use the Pachomian term, in
his monastic rules he offers a similar account of how to cultivate a stable
disposition of thankfulness: “Such a disposition is attained through con-
scientious and unremitting contemplation of the majesties of the glories of
God, by (devout and pure) thankful thoughts and unceasing remembrance
of the benefits that have been bestowed on us by God.”95 Basil’s advice to
remember God’s benefits closely echoes the appreciation of God’s blessing
in Pachomian prayers; and his reference to “thankful thoughts” suggest the
various “prayer scripts,” both biblical and non-biblical, found throughout
the Pachomian corpus.
The “contemplation of the majesties of the glory of God” to which
Basil exhorted his disciples is explicitly outlined in Horsiesius’s Instruction
6. This script offers praise for God, meditating upon Him as a creator, and
in particular creator of the praying monk. Horsiesius details the sense of

91
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 45).
92
The phrase “everything inside me” refers to the five components of the human soul, which are
exhorted to bless God’s “holy name: V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 44).”
93
V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99/100: 169).
94
In particular, Pachomius prays that heretics and sinners come to “perceive the good that God does,
both in the Scriptures and their everyday lives:” V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 40). Cf. V. Pach. S4
(CSCO 99/100: 223) and V. Pach. SBo 46.
95
Basil, SR 157 (Silvas: 357). For the remembrance of God in the writings of Barsanuphius and John,
see Bitton-Ashkelony 2003, 217–221.
204 Cognitive Disciplines
absolute dependence that this activity cultivates in the speaker: “If the sun,
moon, and the stars which light the whole earth were made by the word of
your mouth, then who at all will be able to think about you, the creator,
How you are, In what way you exist? Or which mouth will be able to bless
you according to the way you are blessed?” The prayer continues with a
celebration of God’s majesty, moving from the grandeur of the cosmos to
the insignificance of the speaker, whose very contemplation is due to the
divine creator:96
After you consider all of his marvels and the great things that he created
through his word, and for your part, your littleness, because he, the power-
ful and eternal, created you when you did not exist, so that you might come
to be, and that if he had not created you, your contemplation would not
exist, do not stop blessing him without cease, saying “You are blessed, Lord,
the one who created me from earth when I did not exist,” until the godless
thought which the devil has cast into your heart completely [disappears]
from your heart. And thus you will bless the Lord quickly and with joy.
Horsiesius explains that this joyful blessing of God frustrates the devil,
who complains: “I hinder him with this evil thought so that he might take
a loss, and behold he has benefited all the more, blessing God instead of
cursing him.”97
While Horsiesius attributes this style of prayer to “all the saints,”
Pachomius emphasizes the blessing of God as a means of overcoming
temptation. In Theodore’s inaugural commemorative address in praise of
the Koinonia’s founder, he notes that Pachomius taught his disciples the
correct method of prayer.98 Indeed, a section from the Sahidic Life contains
a lengthy prayer-script offered by Pachomius, blessing God for his numer-
ous benefits.99 Once again, the emphasis is on the divine creator’s majesty.
There are several blessings for creating the cosmos, including angels and
other denizens of heaven, and several for fashioning humans and endow-
ing them with free choice: “Lord, blessed God, you who have made man
his own master so that he could choose according to his own will, con-
science, and discernment between good and evil.” This reminder of the
disciple’s responsibility, as God’s creation, for rejecting bad thoughts and
actions would have been particularly appropriate in situations of tempta-
tion. Pachomius offers a similar prayer after a demonic struggle: “Blessed

96
Hors., Instr. 6 (CSCO 159: 74). In a paraenetic section on vigilance, Horsiesius quotes several bibli-
cal passages which relate to God as creator of the cosmos: Ho 13:4, and Dt 4:19 (Hors., Test. 36).
97
Hors., Instr. 6 (CSCO 159: 75).
98
V. Pach. SBo 195.
99
V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99/100: 6–7, 114–115).
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 205
are you, Lord God of all the saints and my God, who have delivered me
from every snare of the enemy.”100
Nighttime vigils were a particularly important time for individual
prayer. An instruction of Pachomius recommends an interior dialogue in
which the soul “speaks” to the “very heavy body,” urging it to fight sleep:101
“O feet, because you have the power to stand and move, before you are
placed [in a grave] and are motionless, stand eagerly before your Lord.”
While saying to the hands, “There will be a time when you will be loosened
and motionless, having been bound to one another, not having a single
movement; therefore, before you fall into that hour, do not cease stretch-
ing out to the Lord.” To the whole body let the soul speak thus: “O body,
before we are rent apart and placed at a distance from one another, and I am
brought down to Hades, receiving eternal bonds in darkness, and you revert
to your previous existence, and are dissolved into earth, consumed in odor
and filth, stand courageously, entreat the Lord. Make me know perception
through tears; make your good service known to your master: carry me, as
I eagerly confess to God, before you are carried by others. Do not condemn
me to eternal punishment, desiring to sleep and to rest now; for there will
be an occasion when that heaviest sleep will receive you. If you listen to me,
we will together enjoy a blessed inheritance. If you do not listen to me, then
woe to me that you were bound to me; because of you I, wretched, will be
condemned.”
In this “dual” reference to the fear of God, the body is urged to remember
its rigor and putrefaction at death, while the soul speaks of its own eternal
punishment. The goal is to stay vigilant and avoid sleep by maintaining the
correct prayer stance.
Pachomius also seems to have given directions for the physical mechan-
ics of prayer. A limestone stela from the monastery of Saqqara features
a standing figure labeled “Pachom” in a position of prayer, with arms
raised.102 This so-called orans posture was ubiquitous in Late Antiquity,
but it had a particular rigor in the Pachomian context: “And this was
his custom: holding out his arms in prayer, not quickly to draw them
back a little, for rest, but through the extension, as on the cross, he was
exhausting his body for the vigil of prayers.”103 Although this stance
tired the body, the goal was to help the disciple stay awake, presumably

100
V. Pach. SBo 113.
101
Paralip. 20 (Halkin: 146–147).
102
British Museum 1533, Beckwith 1963, fig. 123.
103
V. Pach. G1 16 (Halkin: 10); cf. V. Pach. SBo 17. All monks were required to make nightly vigils in
their cells, sleeping only intermittently on a reclining chair (P 87–88); for the three divisions of the
vigil, see V. Pach. G1 60; cf. V. Pach. SBo 59.
206 Cognitive Disciplines
due to the physical discomfort. In his Instruction 6, Horsiesius exhorts his
disciples to remain focused during their night vigils by keeping their arms
outstretched: “For through fatigue and exhaustion your thoughts will dis-
appear and you will be as if you saw the Lord to whom you are praying,
as it is written in Moses, He held himself firm, as though he could see the
Invisible One (Heb 11:27).”104 This strenuous activity is intended to clear
the mind of its cognitive stream, including bad thoughts, in combination
with offering the prayers of blessing.
The various strategies of prayer discussed above are intended to cul-
tivate discernment in instances of demonic temptation. Discernment
(diakrisis; Coptic pōrj) refers to an ability to distinguish between good
and evil: “those who are [very pure] in their heart from every evil thought
discern in the midst of good and evil.”105 This passage suggests that it is a
faculty reserved for the spiritually advanced, especially Pachomius himself.
But in one biographical anecdote, apparently in the context of an ongoing
dispute, Pachomius offers a simple script as a “therapy for the discernment
of a spirit:”106
“When I grieved my neighbor with a word, rebuked by the word of God,
my heart was crushed, and if I do not reconcile with him quickly, I will
not rest. How, O unclean demons, might I consider blasphemy with you
apostates against God who has made me? Even if you were to rip me up
while tempting me, I  will not be weakened. These [thoughts] are not
mine, but yours, who will be punished in unquenchable fire forever. But
I will not stop blessing and hymning and giving thanks to the one who
made me, when I did not exist, and cursing you, because you are cursed
from the Lord.” And speaking thus with faith, this [demon] disappears
like smoke.
This passage presents a non-scriptural mode of “talking back” to the
demons, delivered in the midst of the usual prayer routine “blessing and
hymning” God as creator. In this case, the disciple disavows the evil thought
of blasphemy (presumably, insulting another monk, whom God created),
attributing it to the demon instead. Rather than encouraging the disciple
to imagine his or her own eternal punishment, as in the fear of God, this
script asserts that it is the demon who will dwell in “unquenchable fire,”
simply vanishing “like smoke” as a result of the disciple’s courage.

104
Hors., Instr. 6 (CSCO 159: 75). Cf. John of Lycopolis’s assertion that the ascetic prays with the
angels before God (HM 1, John of Lycopolis 6).
105
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 73).
106
V. Pach. G1 96 (Halkin: 64–65).
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 207
This script treats the temptation of blasphemy as an externalized
demon, and in the Pachomian sources discernment is often associated
with the evaluation of visions.107 For example, a proud monk who leaves
the monastery is approached by the demon of fornication in the guise of a
woman, and “because his heart was shut, he did not discern to not let her
in,” and immediately sins.108 Pachomius teaches a formula for discerning
visions after he unmasks a demon impersonating Christ: “When the appa-
rition is of spirits that are holy, the thoughts of the man who sees it vanish
completely, and they consider nothing but the sanctity of the apparition.
Now here I am, seeing this and conscious and reasoning. It is clear that
he deceives me; he is not among the spirits that are holy.”109 The Second
Sahidic Life notes that impure spirits bring terror, whereas angels of light
cause pain. It adds that Pachomius “knew them and he distinguished them
from one another. He rebuked the evil ones, and he accepted the words of
the angels of God; and he scrutinized the words they spoke, whether they
were in harmony with the Scriptures or not.”110
Another important monastic source for instruction in prayer as a spiri-
tual exercise is the Letters of Ammonas, a collection of fourteen short texts
addressed to a group of disciples by their master, who may have been a disci-
ple of Antony.111 They offer a useful point of comparison for the Pachomian
instructions in prayer as a spiritual exercise. Ammonas frequently empha-
sizes his love for the disciples, and his prayers on their behalf, demand-
ing that they in turn obey him in order to receive the “blessings” of the
Spirit.112 In particular, he exhorts the community to pray as he does, invok-
ing Elijah and Elisha as examples of such diligent “heart-work:” “Now if
you desire to receive it, you will give yourselves to bodily toil and toil of
heart, and stretch your thoughts to heaven night and day, asking with your
whole heart for the Holy Spirit, and this will be given you, for such was
in Elijah the Tishbite and Elisha and all the other prophets.”113 Ammonas
107
Discernment is applied less frequently in Pachomian sources to demonic temptations/thoughts
without visual or auditory components: e.g. V. Pach. G96. Elsewhere, it is associated with proper
understanding of the Scriptures (V. Pach. S5, CSCO 99/100: 180).
108
V. Pach. S5 (CSCO 99/100: 132).
109
V. Pach. G1 87; cf. V. Pach. SBo 113. Cf. Hors., Instr. 6, which notes that thoughts will disappear. Cf.
Abba Or’s temptation by a demon posing as a royal figure in a winged chariot to ascend to heaven
in exchange for worshipping him (HM 2:9).
110
V. Pach. S2 (CSCO 99/100: 14–15).
111
The oldest and most complete collection of extant letters is the Syriac version, translated in Brock
and Chitty 1979, which I quote in this section. For a discussion of Ammonas in the context of other
early ascetic theorists, see Brakke 2001. For a translation of the Greek fragments, which were edited
in sections with suspicious doctrinal content, see McNary-Zak 2010.
112
Ammonas, Ep. 11.
113
Ammonas, Ep. 8, trans. Chitty, 10.
208 Cognitive Disciplines
assures the disciples that, with perseverance in prayer, they too will experi-
ence the Spirit.114
Although Ammonas says little about specific techniques for using
prayer to acquire the Spirit, he frequently provides emotional and cog-
nitive “scripts” to help the disciples recognize its presence. These are
examples of what Luhrmann calls metakinesis, psychological states that
are “identified within the group as the way of recognising God’s personal
presence in your life, and are subjectively and idiosyncratically experi-
enced.”115 For example, in one key passage, Ammonas offers a kind of
emotional roadmap for receiving the Spirit: “If any man love the Lord
with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his mind, he will
acquire awe, and awe will beget in him weeping, and weeping joy, and joy
will beget strength, and in all this the soul will beget fruit. And when God
sees its fruit so fair, He will accept it as a sweet savor, and in all things He
will rejoice with that soul, with His angels, and will give it a guardian to
keep it in all its ways as He prepares it for the place of life, and to prevent
Satan from prevailing over it.”116 As in the Pachomian tradition, prayer
entails weeping and the fear of God, but will gradually lead to a feeling of
joy and other “fruits of the spirit.”
Despite his teachings on progressive experience, Ammonas describes a
cyclical perception of the Spirit, at least in the early stages of advance-
ment: “You must know how, in the beginning of the spiritual life, the
Holy Spirit gives people joy when He sees their hearts becoming pure.
But after the Spirit has given him joy and sweetness, He then departs and
leaves them.”117 This is in order to test the disciples, who must redouble
their effort, practicing the fear of God and repentance in accordance with
the example of David: “And if after receiving this joy you see that your
fervour withdraws and leaves you, seek it again and it will return. . .And if
you see your heart weighed down temporarily, bring your soul before you
and question it until it becomes fervent again and is set on fire by God.”118
According to Ammonas, gifts of the Spirit, including visionary capacity,
tend to improve gradually: “For the first fervour is troubled and irrational.
But the second fervour is better; and it gives birth to the capacity in a man
to see spiritual things as he struggles in the great contest. . .”119 While he

114
Ammonas, Ep. 12.
115
Luhrmann 2004, 522.
116
Ammonas, Ep. 2.
117
Ammonas, Ep. 9, trans. Chitty, 12–13.
118
Ammonas, Ep. 3, trans. Chitty, 5.
119
Ammonas, Ep. 10, trans. Chitty, 14–15.
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 209
never explicitly states that demonic temptation will disappear entirely, in
some passages he alludes to a stable, joyful state, presumably for the most
advanced disciples.120
Similarly, although there is no explicit reference to apatheia in Pachomian
sources, Pachomius is said to have attained a permanent freedom from
“fleshly thoughts” in the First Sahidic Life. When his brother speaks out in
anger towards him, Pachomius’s heart is disturbed and he spends the night
in tearful prayer. Specifically, he asks God to remove the angry thought
from his heart, noting how Jesus was able to withstand insults without
becoming bitter. After he is insulted and disturbed again, he spends a sec-
ond night in prayer:  “From that day, he did not get angry with fleshly
thoughts, because God granted the request he had asked for.”121 While vari-
ous biographical anecdotes present Pachomius’s struggles with demons,
sometimes on behalf of the disciples under his care, he is always victorious.
Some monastic narratives condense the gradual process of obtaining spir-
itual gifts into a single event. These highly literary and dramatic accounts
suggest the establishment of a new, permanent metakinetic state, “purity
of heart.” Cassian records an early example, concerning Abba Serenus, the
elder with whom he and Germanus discuss demonic thoughts:122
As he was untiringly devoting himself with constant supplication and tears
to the request that he had made, there came to him an angel in a vision of
the night. He seemed to open his belly, pull out a kind of fiery tumour from
his bowels, cast it away, and restore all his entrails to their original place.
“Behold,” he said, “the impulses of your flesh have been cut out, and you
should know that today you have obtained that perpetual purity of body
which you have faithfully sought.”
This account focuses on the abject, the removal of “impulses of the flesh,”
rather than the new experiential state.123
Other narratives emphasize joy as the permanent marker of the Spirit’s
presence. For example, Dorotheus describes how he underwent a great
trial, orchestrated by the devil, in which he was “shut in on all sides,” and

120
Sometimes Ammonas claims that the power is permanent: “And I will pray God for you, that this
joy may be given you always, for nothing is more free from care.” He also notes: “For if a man
attains to this measure, the joy of God will be with him continually: henceforth he will not toil in
any matter.” (Ep. 7, trans. Chitty, 9).
121
V. Pach. S1 (CSCO 99/100: 3).
122
Cassian, Inst. coen. 7:2.
123
A similar account, surely influenced by Cassian, is offered regarding the fifth-century ascetic
Eutropius of Marseilles, later bishop of Orange: he sees a stream of black birds stretching from his
genitals to the clouds, and is informed by his abbot that this signifies the forgiveness of his “inner-
most thoughts” (Verus, V. Eutropii 4, trans. Uhalde 116–117).
210 Cognitive Disciplines
“in a state of temptation and distress.”124 One night, while lingering out-
side the monastery, he followed a winged figure into the church, observing
in fear as it stretched its arms toward heaven in prayer. The angel turns
towards Dorotheus, taps his chest, and repeats three times an allusion to
the same Psalm mentioned in Theodore’s instructions on prayer (Ps. 68):
“I waited, I  waited for the Lord and he stooped down to me; he heard
my cry. He drew me from the deadly pit, from the mirery clay. He set my
feet upon a rock and made my footsteps firm. He put a new song into
my mouth, [a song of ] praise of our God.”125 Dorotheus reports a sudden
change in his cognitive and affective state: “Immediately light flooded my
mind and there was joy in my heart with comfort and sweetness . . .From
that moment on, by God’s providence I have not known myself to be trou-
bled by sorrow or fear, but the Lord has sheltered me till now through the
prayers of the seniors.”

IV. Revelations
The Pachomian biographical tradition contains more accounts of revela-
tions than perhaps any other corpus of Christian literature,126 and associ-
ates these revelations almost exclusively with the leaders of the Koinonia.127
Pachomius had multiple visions, “as if seeing the invisible God through
the purity of his heart as in a mirror.”128 Both Theodore and Antony call
Horsiesius, “an Israelite,” namely, “the one who sees God with interior
as well as exterior eyes.”129 Similarly, Theodore’s “thoughts were always in
heaven beholding the glory of God.”130
The focus on the revelations of Pachomius and his successors in the
biographical tradition is clearly related to the demonstration of author-
ity. Leaders are presented as having a special capacity to experience
visions frequently, and to integrate them into a life of piety. In terms of
Pachomian anthropogony, they drew upon the faculties of wisdom and
understanding:131
124
Dor., Inst. 5. This passage echoes the language of the Letters discussed above, but nothing specifi-
cally identifies it with his struggle against porneia.
125
Theo., Instr. 3.9 (CSCO 159: 44).
126
Though visions were frequently reported within early Egyptian monasticism, and are especially
well represented in the Historia Monachorum in Aegypto.
127
Among the rare visions in the biographical tradition assigned to non-leaders is the dream of an old
man in which he is rebuked for doubting Pachomius (V. Pach. SBo 65).
128
V. Pach. G1 22; cf. V. Pach. SBo 121.
129
V. Pach. SBo 132.
130
V. Pach. SBo 183.
131
V. Pach. S10 (CSCO 99/100: 45).
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 211
And, after perception, his wisdom (mentsabe) and understanding
(mentremnhēt) are revealed; and wisdom, according to God, that the person
recognises everything that is pleasing to the Lord and his will, and he knows
everything which will be revealed to him through him [the Lord], as it is
written, “everything that you consider differently, God will reveal to you”
(Philippians 3:15).
Through revelations, the wise constantly followed the will of God in their
decision-making. While wisdom and understanding were more advanced
than perception, these faculties were also cultivated with a sense of thank-
fulness, expressed by blessing God:  “For thus Daniel, after the Lord
revealed to him the dream and its interpretation in the night, he (Daniel)
blessed him (the Lord), saying, ‘he who gives wisdom to the wise man and
wisdom to . . .’ ” (Daniel 2:21).132
Pachomius is often said to have received divine instructions through
revelations, including a confirmation of his vocation as a monastic
leader,133 as well as directions to build new monasteries.134 At times this
process resembles searching one’s conscience, as when God answers
Pachomius’s request for assistance in determining whether to expel a
monk.135 Many other visions also concern the guidance of disciples, for
example, the command that Pachomius send Theodore (who is under-
going penance) to another monastery.136 When Pachomius sees a vision
of certain monks suffering in Hell, or observes a demon in one of his
disciples, he acts in accordance with this clairvoyance.137 Finally, several
instructional visions provide interpretations of biblical passages, para-
bles, or the vision itself.138
Revelations in Pachomian literature are described variously as a horama,
optasia, ekstasis, with no clear distinctions between these terms.139 Demonic
appearances, in contrast, are termed phantasia.140 While the terminology

132
V. Pach. S10.
133
While under Palamon, Pachomius has a vision of heavenly dew falling on him and covering the
earth (V. Pach. SBo 12); V. Pach. SBo 22.
134
V. Pach. SBo 17; V. Pach. SBo 49; V. Pach. SBo 52.
135
V. Pach. SBo 108; cf. V. Pach. SBo 139.
136
V. Pach. SBo 95; cf. V. Pach. SBo 112.
137
V. Pach. SBo 103; V. Pach. SBo 107.
138
V. Pach. G1 102; V. Pach. SBo 103; V. Pach. SBo 155.
139
While ekstasis is often related to “out of body” experiences, it is used broadly, and is not the only
term for ascent visions. “Dream” is used more rarely, but the line between waking vision and
dreams was particularly thin in monasticism: many visions occur at night, during vigils combined
with intensive prayer.
140
For the relationship between the demonology in the Life of Antony and the Stoic concept of phan-
tasia, see Brakke 2008, 37–47.
212 Cognitive Disciplines
suggests that the primary sensory experience was visual, many revelations
also included an auditory component, for example in a dialogue with
angels, or, in the case of Theodore and Horsiesius, with Pachomius.141
Several revelations were exclusively auditory: only a voice is heard.142 A few
contain olfaction, such as the wonderful fragrance of the fruits of paradise.143
On the other hand, olfaction is deliberately subordinated to vision and
audition in an account of Pachomius’s discussion with certain learned
anchorites: he perceived a stench while speaking with them, but did not
know the cause; while praying that night, God reveals to him through an
angel that they are anchorites.144
The heavenly court, including Christ in his divine majesty, is a frequent
object of revelation, as are otherworldly realms. They usually portray
post-mortem reward and punishment, consistent with the importance of
teaching the fear of God: Pachomius and Theodore have multiple visions
of individual souls being carried by angels up to heaven;145 and a general
vision about how the soul leaves the body, which he experienced multiple
times.146 Pachomius is also said to have an extensive vision of the pun-
ishment of sinners,147 as well as many tours of Paradise.148 Finally, several
revelations are prophecies of future events, such as the fate of the Koinonia
after Pachomius’s death, or the visit of the dux Artemios.149
The descriptions of Pachomius’s (and Theodore’s) visions in the bio-
graphical tradition form a retrospective, literary account, which cannot be
interpreted as a record of actual events. Indeed, they are part of an exten-
sive, older Judaeo-Christian tradition that DeConick – and others before
her – have described as “mysticism.” Her self-consciously etic definition
captures key themes in both ancient sources and modern scholarship: “a
tradition within early Judaism and Christianity centered on the belief
that a person directly, immediately, and before death can experience the
divine, either as a rapture experience or one solicited by a particular prac-
tice.”150 On the other hand, the distinction between “rapture experience”

141
V. Pach. SBo 139; V. Pach. SBo 144.
142
V. Pach. SBo 95; V. Pach. SBo 112; V. Pach. SBo 144.
143
V. Pach. SBo 114.
144
Paralip. 4. Cf. the story of Apollonius above.
145
V. Pach. SBo 81; V. Pach. SBo 83; V. Pach. SBo 123; V. Pach. SBo 181.
146
V. Pach. SBo 82/V. Pach. G1 93b.
147
V. Pach. SBo 88.
148
V. Pach. SBo 114; V. Pach. SBo 117. Cf. the quotations of the Visio Pauli in the Rule of the Master.
149
V. Pach. SBo 66; V. Pach. SBo 185.
150
DeConick 2006, 2–3.
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 213
(i.e. passive) and “solicited by a particular practice” (i.e. active) needs qual-
ification, as the two categories are actually related.
In the Pachomian sources, prayer itself is a practice that encourages
“rapture experience,” and the vast majority of Pachomian revelations
occurred during prayer.151 Yet these were not expected at every instance of
prayer, which was after all practiced multiple times each day. Occasionally,
Pachomius requests a revelation during prayer and is granted one, but the
majority of these revelations are unsolicited. Perhaps the most interesting
pattern is that a significant number occur at night;152 indeed, as we have
seen, a special body posture was developed specifically for fighting the urge
to sleep during prayer vigils. Various recent studies suggest that “hypnago-
gic hallucinations” – at the boundary between wakefulness and sleep – are
widely reported cross-culturally, and feature accounts of “a sensed pres-
ence, fear, and auditory and visual hallucinations.”153 Taves notes, “At this
point, we need less grand theory building and more careful empirical stud-
ies that will allow us to identify unusual experiences across cultures.”154
One relevant study linking prayer practice and unusual sensory experi-
ence was conducted by anthropologists Luhrmann and Morgain, drawing
on both ethnographic observation and controlled psychological experi-
mentation (the “Spiritual Disciplines Project”): they found that “mental
imagery cultivation” through prayer “makes mental imagery more vivid;
that it leads to unusual sensory experiences; and more generally, that it
makes what people imagined more real to them.”155 On the one hand, what
DeConick calls a “particular practice” is involved, namely “inner sense
practice;”156 on the other, the unusual sensory experiences reported by par-
ticipants were usually unprovoked, and perceived as coming from an exter-
nal source, though nothing so intense as a heavenly “rapture experience”
was described in this study.

151
V. Pach. SBo 17; V. Pach. SBo 22; V. Pach. SBo 73/V. Pach. G1 93a, V. Pach. SBo 76; V. Pach. SBo 81;
V. Pach. SBo 84; V. Pach. SBo 85; V. Pach. SBo 112; V. Pach. SBo 139; V. Pach. SBo 144. The visions
in V. Pach. SBo 73 and V. Pach. SBo 76 occur during communal prayer in the assembly room, and
V. Pach. SBo 183 similarly notes that the synaxis is a time when God “visits” monk. Visions also
occurred while reciting Scripture at work (V. Pach. SBo 22; V. Pach. SBo 84).
152
E.g. V. Pach. SBo 22, 73 84; Paralip. 17, 24–26.
153
Taves 2009, 133, reporting on recent studies of “hypnagogic hallucination” or sleep paralysis, as part
of a larger analysis (131–140).
154
Taves 2009, 139–140.
155
Luhrmann and Morgain 2012, 363. They build on earlier anthropological studies, especially Noll
1985, a study of mental imagery cultivation in shamanism.
156
Luhrmann and Morgain 2012, 362.
214 Cognitive Disciplines
Pachomian image cultivation involved either the visualization of images
depicting God’s judgement, to provoke fear (as discussed in Chapter 4), or
praise of his majesty and generosity, to provoke joy. Both cognitive disci-
plines focused on standard scenes such as the divine throne room, the heav-
enly liturgy, and Christ. Carruthers has aptly described similar meditative
practices as “the emotionally engaged work of making memory images.”157
Some monks, such as Pachomius and Theodore, might have had a special
capacity for such unusual sensory experiences.158 Nevertheless, their fre-
quent prayer meditation suggested that practice played a role in producing
revelations; they also discussed their revelations with a group of “great”
monks who had visions, which likely functioned as an informal context for
instruction in the techniques of mental image cultivation.159
Pachomius’s visions of heaven and hell – though extensive – included
stock themes of punishment, dialogue with angels, and a tour through
a number of different post-mortem locales. Such topics were likely
covered during the “group discussions” on revelatory experience, and
drew on Judaeo-Christian apocalyptic literature such as the Ascension
of Isaiah, which was clearly popular among early ascetics, despite its
eventual ban by Athanasius.160 Ammonas cites the Ascension of Isaiah in
Letter 10, in which he equates ascent through the heavenly spheres with
moral progress: “Therefore the soul of the perfectly righteous [person]
progresses and goes forward until it mounts to the heaven of heavens.
If you attain this you have passed all trials. There are even now men on
earth who have reached this stage.”161 Some meditative practices from
the medieval period followed similarly extensive “scripts,” such as one
focusing on the life of Christ, which could include daily meditations
over a full week.162
A first person monastic narrative, the so-called Apocalypse of Shenoute,
offers an example of a discrete series of revelations, as chronicled in

157
For a study of this metaphor in Late Antique Latin authors, see Carruthers 1998, 133–135.
158
It is possible (but, of course, cannot be confirmed) that both leaders had a special capacity for
visions, just as the “spiritual disciplines” study revealed substantial differences in absorptive capac-
ity among participants.
159
V. Pach. G1 99 (Halkin: 66). Cf. V. Pach. G1 102, in which Pachomius explains his vision to a group
of monks in private, and V. Pach. SBo 123, in which a group of visionary elders confirm the ascent
of Pachomius’s soul.
160
Copeland 2004 argues that the Apocalypse of Paul was probably composed in an Egyptian
monastery.
161
Ammonas, Ep. 10, trans. Chitty, 14.
162
I follow here the concept of the “scripted vision,” a term introduced by Newman to describe
lengthy guided meditations from the medieval period (Newman 2005, 25). For the later Byzantine
monastic tradition of “interiorized apocalyptic,” see Golitzin 2001.
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 215
a number  of progressive visions over multiple months.163 Several of
“Shenoute’s” accounts transfer distinctly monastic scenes to the heavenly
court: thus he sees Paul blessing (in Hebrew!) “those who arrive first at
the assembly to meditate on the holy Scriptures.” Their souls are lit up
“through the lightning coming from the words of God.”164 A subsequent
vision echoes the descriptions of post-mortem punishments and angelic
tours found in Pachomian literature and the Apocalypse of Paul: “I tell you,
they taught me one day concerning a presbyter: while they brought his soul
from his body, some merciless angels struck him, while their faces were
different from one another, being fearful, with fire-smoke blowing from
their mouths.” When Shenoute asks his guide the reason for this chastise-
ment, he is told that the priest “ate the things of the church” with prosti-
tutes.165 In short, the Apocalypse of Shenoute suggests that some visions in
early Egyptian monasticism followed a regular, scripted sequence in which
common themes, such as punishment, were elaborated in countless spe-
cific ways; the habits of rhetorical exercise and meditation are intertwined
with emotionally striking imaginative practices.

V Theodore’s Progress: Desiring the Vision of God

The biographical tradition describes in detail Theodore’s spiritual develop-
ment, from his initial adoption of fasting as a boy living with his family,
through his training as a monastic leader by Pachomius, to his eventual (if
temporary) demotion, and his actions as head of the Koinonia after the
revolt against Horsiesius. This outsized role in the Life of Pachomius has
led some scholars to postulate a Life of Theodore that was later added to
the founder’s biography.166 In my view, Theodore’s central position is best
explained by his efforts to formalize the commemoration of Pachomius;
thus he is the probable source of the numerous anecdotes about his own
interactions with the beloved founder. On the other hand, Horsiesius
must have endorsed this understanding of Theodore’s importance to the
Koinonia, as the Great Coptic Life includes an approving coda about his
death and subsequent commemoration.
Theodore’s progress as described in the biographical tradition is excep-
tional, rather than typical, and follows hagiographical conventions. Yet

163
CSCO 73: 198–204. According to his Arabic Life, Shenoute visits the heavenly Jerusalem with Mar
Victor, the archimandrite of Tabennesi (Amélineau 1888, 334).
164
CSCO 73: 198.
165
CSCO 73:199–200.
166
E.g. Veilleux 1968, 58–68.
216 Cognitive Disciplines
taken together, it presents a short Bildungsroman, offering the most
extended surviving account in cenobitic sources of a disciple’s training. And
while Theodore’s virtues and talents are frequently emphasized, Pachomius
also criticizes his star pupil. In short, his life is an example not only of
ascetic excellence, but the need for humility and the power of repentance.
The Greek Life concisely explains the reasons for his early success:167
And after entering the monastery, listening and observing the brothers con-
ducting themselves in an orderly fashion, he was zealous in a good way.
And, making progress, he was comforted in and empowered by the com-
mandments, while being instructed by Pachomius, who was an imitator of
the saints. For he was a wise boy (pais), preserving for himself these three
things: purity of heart, speech with a measured grace, and an unquestioning
obedience unto death. There was no one better in ascesis and prayer vigils,
and by striving he acquired the greater gifts, so that he was a comforter of
many who were grieving and a corrector to his seniors.
Thus, obedience to the commandments and personal counseling represent
the two primary means of achieving progress, in accordance with stan-
dard Pachomian teaching. Theodore’s exceptional asceticism and moving
speech set him apart and are associated with his acquisition of spiritual
gifts, especially his special ability to console others.
Theodore’s spiritual gifts quickly become evident to other monks, and
he becomes a “comforter of multitudes in his youth, raising up everyone
who had fallen with his smooth speech, for, as it is written, ‘the Spirit blows
wherever it pleases’ (John 3:8).”168 During his first year in the Koinonia,
Theodore asks Pachomius: “I want you, O my father, to vow to me, ‘you
will see God’; if not, what is the profit for me to have been born into the
world? Our father Pachomius said to him, ‘Do you want to see him in this
age, or in the age to come?’ He answered, ‘I want to see him in the age that
endures forever’.”169 Pachomius then warns him that he must keep his heart
pure by not consenting to the impure thoughts that enter his mind. Soon
after, he receives his first revelation: while working in his cell and reciting
scriptures, angels appear before him and hand him keys. Apparently his
earthly revelations occur only when he has humbly clarified that his prior-
ity is the post-mortem vision of God.
Sensing his exceptional spiritual capacities, Pachomius offers to instruct
Theodore personally about the need for moderation in ascetic practice.

167
V. Pach. G1 36 (Halkin: 22).
168
V. Pach. SBo 32 (CSCO 89: 35).
169
V. Pach. SBo 33 (CSCO 89: 36).
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 217
While he advises him not to meet with his mother, he does suggest that
Theodore should condescend to interact with his own brother, who had
recently joined the Koinonia.170 In addition, Pachomius and Theodore
collaborate in providing spiritual direction to other monks.171 Theodore’s
authority is officially recognized when Pachomius publicly entrusts him
with giving the Sunday catechesis, leading some of the “ancients” to
complain about his youth;172 despite their opposition, he is subsequently
appointed steward of Tabennesi.173 Following this appointment, the Great
Coptic Life presents a series of anecdotes about Pachomius and Theodore’s
coordinated spiritual direction, and even their joint visions.174
Despite Theodore’s visionary abilities, and his gifts as a speaker and
counselor, the Life also highlights the “growing pains” in his spiritual prog-
ress. Several mistakes in his care for the souls of disciples are described with
frankness, as well as Pachomius’s ensuing rebukes: for example, when he
fails to ensure the correct observance of the rules at the bakery, or ques-
tions a brother excessively.175 Most significantly, however, when Pachomius
falls ill, Theodore reluctantly agrees to the elders’ request that he assume
leadership of the Koinonia after his death. After Pachomius has recovered,
he rebukes Theodore for undermining his leadership, and forces him to
undergo a period of public repentance.176 Although Pachomius eventually
declares that Theodore has been forgiven, he ultimately choses Petronius as
a successor; Petronius, in his turn, selects Horsiesius.
Theodore’s fall from grace further suggests that the pursuit of visions
was of ambiguous moral value: it did not save him from vainglory, and
indeed may be a symptom of it. Nor is it clear whether Theodore ever “sees
God” before his death. In the first joint vision, he watches as Pachomius
attempts unsuccessfully to gaze upon the full majesty of the Godhead.
In the second, the two observe in prayer “a great throne on which the
Lord was seated under the form in which he chose to be seen by them,”
while Pachomius presents his disciple. Despite the ubiquitous presence
of revelations in the Life  – closely related to the meditative techniques
of prayer – their function as a means of legitimating authority remains
ambiguous.

170
V. Pach. SBo 35–8.
171
V. Pach. SBo 63.
172
V. Pach. SBo 69.
173
V. Pach. SBo 70.
174
Respectively, V. Pach. SBo 74–75 and V. Pach. SBo 73 and 76.
175
V. Pach. SBo 77 and 80, respectively. Sometimes there is simple lack of communication, which is
attributed to demons (V. Pach. SBo 67).
176
V. Pach. G1 107: note that Theodore is punished for thinking about replacing Pachomius.
218 Cognitive Disciplines

VI Conclusion
As monks progressed, their prayer life, understood as a dialogue with God,
changed significantly as well. In the beginning, when disciples simply
concentrated on following the rule, God might speak to them through
the conscience. And during periods of temptation, such as those faced
by Dorotheus, disciples were encouraged to adopt scriptural forms of
prayer, especially the numerous appeals to God in the Psalms. In addi-
tion to biblical prayer, monks also learned certain techniques, including
physical stances to encourage wakefulness and attention; prayer scripts, in
which they praised God for the wonder of creation and care for humanity;
and meditation on stock images, especially the divine throne room (itself
related to fear of God). Especially for the advanced, God talked back: as
a result of their prayer practice, Pachomius, Theodore, and other elders
experienced revelations concerning the present state of the community,
and the future rewards and punishments in heaven and hell.
These revelations provoked controversy in the broader church.
Pachomius’s charisms were questioned at the synod of Latopolis, and the
apocryphal texts that inspired the visionary scripts, such as the Ascension
of Isaiah, were forbidden by Athanasius.177 Moreover, the Origenist con-
troversy challenged the widespread practice of meditating on images of
Christ and the divine throne room.178 The First Greek Life may reflect this
controversy through its cautious appeals to visions. One passage is particu-
larly critical of those who seek visions, but not revelation itself, which is a
gift from God:179
One of the siblings asked me, “Tell us about one of your visions,” and I
said to him, “A sinner like me does not ask God to see visions. It is against
God’s will, and a mistake. But in everything he does by God’s will, even if
he should raise a dead man, the servant of God remains unhurt by pride
or boasting. For, without God’s permission, he would not even see that
Providence governs all things. But all the same, hear about a great vision.
For what is greater than such a vision, to see the invisible (Heb 11:27) God
in a visible man, his temple?”
The recognition that “Providence governs all” is equivalent to the perception
(aisthēsis) of God as creator of the world, which is nurtured through prais-
ing God in prayer. The “great vision” is ambiguous, however, as suggested

177
Ath., Festal Letter 39:21 (trans. Brakke 2010: 61).
178
For debates on the divine image in the Origenist controversy, see, e.g. Clark 1992, 43–84.
179
V. Pach. G1 48.
 Prayer and Monastic Progress 219
by the passage itself. It might refer to the heavenly Christ enthroned in
majesty, a frequent object of visualization in prayer, and often depicted
in sanctuary art. But it might also refer to “a visible man, [God’s] temple,”
in other words, whoever enjoys the indwelling of the Spirit, and most
prominently, Pachomius himself.
This passage provocatively implies an idea that is explicitly stated else-
where: Pachomius possesses spiritual gifts, including visions, due to his
exceptional humility and suffering on behalf of the Koinonia. Even if many
disciples are not able to enjoy a vision of Christ, they have access to God
through their mediator Pachomius. The idea of the holy man as an image
of God was invoked in 399 by Theophilus of Alexandria, who attempted
to conciliate anthropomorphite monks by declaring that he saw in them
the “face of God.”180 After Pachomius’s death, his spiritual charisms were
available to monks who listened to stories about his life or read about it
in texts. The process of commemoration was begun by Theodore, whose
first oration in the founder’s honor focused on the care of souls and divine
revelations as the two most significant aspects of his life. In Chapter 6,
I will explore the role of biographical discourse, including the praise of
Pachomius as founder, patron, and “temple of God,” in the monastic care
of souls.

180
Socr., H.E. 8:11. Cf. Burrows 1987: “Because of the visibility of the invisible God to Pachomius,
God becomes “visible” through the apa.”
 P a rt   I I I

Collective Heart-Work

Introduction to Part III
The directors of cenobia were expected to care for souls not only by
counseling individual monks but also by offering guidance to the entire
community, through regular group catechesis, which we examined
in Chapter  2, as well as collective rituals, to be considered in Part  3. In
order to explore this important group aspect of the care of souls, the fol-
lowing two chapters focus on two early Egyptian cenobitic leaders and
authors:  Theodore, third successor of Pachomius, who instituted the
annual commemoration of his life, celebrating him as a patron and spon-
sor for obedient disciples (Chapter 6); and Shenoute, who presided over
rituals of collective repentance, to which he frequently alludes in his
Canons (Chapter 7).
A prayer attributed to Theodore reflects the significant emotional
anguish experienced by the leader of a large cenobium:1
Because of this he did not rest, but with great zeal he cast his concern upon
the Lord, praying and saying, “It is a great struggle for someone to give an
account for himself; how much more for many? Therefore I know we are
like shadows; we are not guardians of souls. For we do not attain to such
a measure. But you who know and have moulded the individual hearts of
men, guard us and the whole world from the envious demons, for no one
can save us except you, Lord, Lord God of glory.”
Given the burden of responsibility for an entire community’s salvation,
Theodore and Shenoute maintained a humble attitude in their writings.
Theodore’s prayer also illustrates how understanding the mental lives
of cenobitic leaders, especially their relationship with God, formed a key
component of the monastic theory of mind. The hagiographical tradition
initiated by Theodore portrays Pachomius’s inner life as overwhelmingly

1
V. Pach. G1 132 (Halkin: 83–84).

221
222 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
positive: the founder of the Koinonia triumphs over demonic temptation
and social turmoil through his asceticism and cognitive discipline. The
Lives focus on his care for the souls of all disciples, including the hidden
aspects of this process: the response to demonic assaults on the commu-
nity, and guidance from God through frequent prayer and revelation. For
example, when Pachomius initially hesitates to administer serious disci-
plinary actions, such as expulsion, his ultimate decision to carry them out
is attributed to divine revelation. Finally, the Lives reveal Pachomius’s tear-
ful prayers to God on behalf of the Koinonia.
Shenoute, like Pachomius and Theodore, bore the terrible burden of his
community’s salvation. Yet the most extensive statement of his efforts on
behalf of the White Monastery are not found in hagiography, but rather
his own writings, the Canons: nine volumes containing a mixture of rules,
exhortations, and personal reflections about his cognitive and affective
life. In many respects, they constitute an inverse confession of thoughts,
from a leader to his disciples. Shenoute humbly acknowledges his own
sinfulness, and openly shares the grief and anxiety provoked by the pres-
ence of sin in the monastic federation. Despite these personal insecurities,
Shenoute claimed to deliver the voice of God to his congregation, both
by quoting scriptures and recounting his own communications with God
through prayer and revelations. As in some biographical anecdotes about
Pachomius, Shenoute asserts that certain harsh disciplinary acts, such as
corporal punishment and expulsion, were divinely commanded.
Pachomian hagiography and Shenoute’s Canons are also our primary
source for the two major ritual activities of cenobitic monasticism: a com-
memorative ceremony in honor of the monastic founder, celebrated annu-
ally on or near the day of death; and rituals of collective repentance, held at
least once per year (four times per year in the White Monastery federation),
or under extraordinary circumstances. Both rituals involved the arousal of
emotions, the elimination of certain opinions and temptations from dis-
ciples’ hearts, and the goal of sharing a “single heart” within the group.
In short, commemoration and collective repentance were a key means of
forming the monastery as a cognitive and emotional community.2
Theodore’s commemoration of Pachomius was presented as an oppor-
tunity for renewed commitment to following his commandments, which

2
As Chaniotis notes, “For this reason alone, cult communities were emotional communities in more
than one sense:  They were emotional communities because of the emotions that fundamentally
dominated their relation to the Gods; because of the emotions excited by rituals; because of the
emotional background of each single communication with divine powers” (Chaniotis 2011, 267).
 Collective Heart-Work 223
led to salvation. But it was a fundamentally joyful ceremony, in which
disciples praised the accomplishments of Pachomius and celebrated his
ongoing role as their advocate. By contrast, Shenoute’s Canons are the
most extensive – and perhaps intense – examples of the rhetoric of ekpa-
thy, explored in Chapter 3. They include letters, and declarations that are
probably transcribed speeches, in response to situations of conflict within
the congregation. Their message reflects the practice of self-scrutiny and
repentance associated with the four annual meetings, in which the White
Monastery Federations’s rules were read aloud, providing a standard for
the monks’ thoughts and behavior. In contrast to the joy of commemorat-
ing Pachomius, Shenoute calls for collective repentance, communicating
his grief over sin to all of the community’s members.

Comparing Theodore and Shenoute

Theodore and Shenoute developed the rituals of commemoration and col-
lective rebuke in response to common problems of group discipline, which
is not surprising given the intertwined histories of their communities. In
addition to having similar challenges as leaders of Late Antique Egyptian
cenobia, a direct influence is likely:  Shenoute would have been familiar
with Theodore’s life from the Pachomian biographical tradition, and prob-
ably also read some of his instructions.3
When Pachomius died in 346 CE, Petronius briefly succeeded him, fol-
lowed by Horsiesius, who presided over the Koinonia until the general
revolt that broke out around 348 CE.4 This led to the appointment of
Theodore as leader, a position he maintained until his death in 368 CE.
Among the key events of Theodore’s tenure were the speeches of harsh
rebuke that he delivered in response to the revolt against Horsiesius: first
to the monks at Sheneset, where he was appointed as successor; and then
to the assembled leaders of the Koinonia. Both speeches called for repen-
tance and a new commitment to follow the laws; Theodore even makes a
“covenant” (diathēkē) with the leaders and assigns them to new positions.5

3
For Shenoute’s likely reference to the Pachomian biographical tradition, see the Introduction to
Part One. Shenoute further describes the reading habits of his community: “sermons of the saints,
speeches, and numerous instructions” (Canons 1, CSCO 42: 160). The Pachomian literature exam-
ined in Chapter 2, including Theodore’s speeches, are the only known monastic instructions that
predate Canons 1.
4
For a full discussion of chronological issues, see Joest 2011.
5
V. Pach. SBo 142 (CSCO 99/100: 275). See the discussion of monastic covenants in Chapter 2, and
White Monastery Rule 25 (Layton 2014: 100–101). Theodore’s unilateral actions seem to have been
in opposition to a competing view of authority whereby “one monk would serve as the leader of the
224 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
According to the Life, he continued to reassign monks at the annual meet-
ings for the Pascha and the Remission, and a record exists of another
speech delivered on such an occasion, which also advocated humility and
obedience.6 At another meeting for the Pascha, Theodore delivered an
encomium in honor of Pachomius, with a sense of joy rather than mourn-
ing, but once again with the objective of promoting obedience to the rules.
At some point during this period, on the northern edge of the Koinonia,
the monk Pcol founded his own monastic community. Shenoute was born
in ca. 347, around the time of the revolt against Horsiesius,7 and joined the
community of his uncle Pcol at the age of nine, when Theodore was head
of the Koinonia.8 Pcol’s monastery had its own particular tradition of leg-
islation, which he developed based on his familiarity with Pachomian rules
as a former monk in the Koinonia.9 About three decades later, there was
a revolt against the second leader, Ebonh, and the resulting controversy
led to Shenoute’s assumption of leadership over the White Monastery
Federation.10
Both Theodore and Shenoute faced the task of disciplining a large
monastic community following a rebellion against the founder’s
successor.11 In order to do so, they emphasized obedience to the command-
ments of monastic elders. In his Canons, Shenoute creatively developed
Theodore’s monastic rhetoric of corporate rebuke, repentance, and cov-
enant renewal.12 Following Theodore, Shenoute’s speeches were intended
to produce tears of repentance and attitudes of obedience in his audience;
they were also most likely delivered in an institutional setting, namely
the four annual meetings of the White Monastery federation. Although
there is no extant biography of Pcol, Shenoute did speak on the day of

whole community but he would do so only with the consent of the heads of each monastery,” as
proposed in Watts 2010, 98.
6
These events are chronicled in V. Pach. SBo 141–145 and parallels.
7
Emmel 2008, 37.
8
Emmel contests this tradition, arguing that Shenoute’s literary skill suggests that he obtained a
grammatical education in nearby Panopolis, and joined the monastery when he was older, serving
as Ebonh’s, and possibly Pcol’s secretary (Emmel 2008, 42).
9
Layton 2014, 20.
10
Emmel concurs with Leipoldt on 385 CE as an approximate date for Shenoute’s assumption of lead-
ership at the White Monastery federation (Emmel 2008, 37). The revolt is chronicled in Canons 1
and discussed in Emmel 2004b and Schroeder 2007, 24–53.
11
The same problem is attested for the women’s monastery founded by Augustine’s sister, whose
death was followed by a revolt against her successor, apparently in response to her harsh discipline.
Augustine sent a rebuke to the community (Ep. 211).
12
Shenoute thus describes the reading habits of his community: “Sermons of the saints, speeches, and
numerous instructions” (Canons 1, CSCO 42: 160).
 Collective Heart-Work 225
his commemoration;13 and like Theodore, he appealed to the authority of
monastic founders more generally, for instance by recalling the tears that
the “first father” shed on behalf of the congregation. His opponents, for
their part, stated that they felt shame before the eyes of the founder.14

Annual Meetings
The most convenient time for collective rituals were the annual meetings,
which were held in both the Pachomian Koinonia and the White Monastery
federation.15 The individual monasteries of the Koinonia convened twice
yearly:  once for the Pascha, when catechumens were baptized and their
sins remitted;16 and once on the 20th of Mesore for the “Remission.” The
Remission involved not only the settling of economic accounts, but also
mutual forgiveness and a general remission of sins:  “forgiveness, purifi-
cation, and a healthy conscience.”17 The head of the Koinonia typically
circulated a letter in advance of these gatherings, probably in imitation
of the Festal Letters from the archbishops of Alexandria. Of the seven-
teen surviving letters ascribed to Pachomian leaders, at least four belong
to this genre:  Pachomius’s Letter 5 and Theodore’s Letter 1 for the Pascha;
and Pachomius’s Letter 7 and Theodore’s Letter 2 for the Remission. In
Theodore’s Letter 1, he warns the catechumens who are expecting the
“remission of sins” that there must first be tears and repentance.18
Pachomius’s Letter 7, which was circulated before the annual meeting on
20 Mesore, calls for a period of mutual forgiveness, “according to the com-
mand of God;” this period is described as a kind of joint heart-work: “Let

13
Shenoute, Acephalous Work A6, on which see Layton 2014, 32.
14
Canons 4 (CSCO 42:  118). Similarly, in his rebuke for the revolt against Horsiesius, Theodore
appeals to Pachomius: “Doesn’t our righteous father see us like this from the dwelling place of the
saints and wonder?” (V. Pach. SBo 142, CSCO 99–100: 188).
15
Stephen Emmel has pointed to the analogy between the four yearly meetings at the White
Monastery federation and the twice-per-year meetings of the Pachomian Koinonia: “Under normal
circumstances, Shenoute and the other hermits living in the desert near the White Monastery fed-
eration entered the main monastery only four times each year, at fixed times appointed for a kind
of general assembly such as we know of also in the Pachomian monasteries” (Emmel 2008, 41).
16
V. Pach. SBo 193 (CSCO 89: 183). The annual meeting for the Pascha is discussed in Veilleux 1968,
249–261.
17
Theo., Ep. 2 (Quecke 1975b: 431). See also Pach., Ep. 7, sent to convene the Remission meeting,
which calls for mutual forgiveness: “Let each (monk) pardon his brother according to the com-
mandment of God and the laws which were written for us by God. Let each one fulfill his heart with
his brother” (Quecke 1975a, 107). The annual meeting for the Remission is discussed in Veilleux
1968, 366–370.
18
Theo., Ep. 2 (Boon: 105–106). The importance of weeping is also mentioned in Pachomius’s Ep. 5:3.
226 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
each one fulfill his heart with his brother.”19 Similarly, in the First Instruction,
Pachomius urges his audience “In all vigilance watch your body and your
heart,” equating this practice with maintaining peace with fellow monks.20
Besa’s prayer to God in a time of famine invokes a similar sentiment of
group concord, as he requests a communal reception of the Spirit, leading
to a pure heart and the acquisition of discernment: “Do not remember our
former acts of lawlessness, but let a pure heart arise in us and let a correct
spirit be renewed within us, and make us worthy that a spirit of discern-
ment dwell in us, so that we may discern between good and evil.”21 All of
these passages suggest that the annual meetings provided an opportunity
for reconciliation and renewal, which are sometimes described as a coordi-
nated or collective practice of the heart.
In addition to the letters circulated in advance, the leader of the Koinonia
addressed the entire monastic body at the annual meetings. The content of
these speeches would have been quite varied, including Theodore’s initial
encomium to Pachomius, examined at length in Chapter 6.22 Theodore’s
Third Instruction, for which the beginning is lost, was also probably deliv-
ered at the annual meeting, at some point after the revolt against Horsiesius,
to which it refers.23 Horsiesius’s Letter 4 was also likely written on the occa-
sion of the Pascha, suggesting that this Pachomian practice continued into
the period of Shenoute’s childhood: it contains exhortations much like the
Canons, namely to remember the commandments of Pachomius, and not
to protest the reassignments, a practice Theodore had initiated following
the revolt.24
The four annual meetings of the White Monastery federation took place
over an entire week, during which the three congregations would assem-
ble together.25 Only two of the meeting times are specified in the extant

19
Pach., Ep. 7:1.
20
Pach., Instr. 1:36. (CSCO 159: 14). Cf. Instr. 1:41, 43, 58–61, on the theme of forgiveness.
21
Besa, Frag. 16 (CSCO 157: 43); cf. Hebrews 5:14.
22
Pachomius’s Homily on the Six Days of the Pascha (Instr. 2), a theological meditation on its paral-
lels to the creation week, was presumably read during this gathering, although there is no explicit
reference to it.
23
Theodore praises a certain John of Thmoushons for not participating in the revolt against Horsiesius
(Theo., Instr. 3:46). His Second Instruction, although highly fragmentary, appears to have shared the
same emphasis on following the commandments as the Third Instruction.
24
Hor., Ep. 4:5 and 4:7. Goehring notes that the annual Pascha meeting “was a time at which
complaints about such matters could be expected to be at a height. Horsiesius’s confrontation
of them in a pre-Easter letter would be aimed at silencing the debate before it arose” (Goehring
1999, 235).
25
Cf. Rules 22–24 (Layton 2014: 98–101). Those who have requested to be made monks are to partici-
pate in the four yearly meetings (Rule 370, Layton 2014: 246–247).
 Collective Heart-Work 227
rules: the first week of Lent and the week of Pascha.26 Early in his career
as leader of the federation, Shenoute directed that the monastic rulebook
and some of his own writings be read at these gatherings of the entire com-
munity. Thus, he writes at the end of Canons 1:27
If they happen to read them in the Houses, nothing stands in the way. And
also if they happen to read from them, whenever they want to, on days
when all are gathered in the assembly, scrutinizing their words and their
deeds, according to our canons, nothing stands in the way. However, on
these four yearly occasions they should be read without fail, even if there is
someone who hates to hear them because he hates his very soul.
This passage suggests two different contexts for the recitation of the Canons.
First, they may be read at the Wednesday and Friday instructions delivered
by housemasters, or to the entire congregation during the three weekly
instructions given by a senior officer.28 Second, they must be read at the
four yearly meetings. Indeed, as I will argue in Chapter 7, many speeches
and letters in the Canons were probably delivered immediately before, dur-
ing, or after these periods of assembly, when Shenoute visited the mon-
astery to administer discipline, including expulsion for sinful behavior.29

Pastoral Responsibilities
Basil of Caesarea clearly describes the three primary responsibilities for
“one who is entrusted with the care of all” in his Long Rules.30 First, the
monastic director must declare “the ordinance of God” before his monks
so that they do not violate it. Second, when they sin, he must teach them
26
“The weeks of fasting in which we gather – the first week in Lent, and the holy Great Pascha, as well
as the other pair of weeks. . .” (Rule 314, trans. Layton 2014: 223). One of the remaining two may
have been held in Mesore, like the Pachomian gathering for the Remission.
27
Canons 1 (trans. Layton 2007: 68).
28
As Layton further suggests: “Might it be that Shenoute’s Canons give us some examples of the kind
of urgent rhetoric that was delivered in the great assembly meetings, before an entire congregation,
where instructors occasionally made use of the ancient rule books, just as Shenoute does in his
Canons?” (Layton 2008, 79).
29
In Canons 2, Shenoute describes mediating a dispute with the women’s monastery around the
Pascha: “The Lord Jesus knows that, because of care for your children and your siblings, and care
for you, and for all of us at once, I have not gone to the place from which I came since the first day
of the great Pascha” (CSCO 157: 123). Stephen Emmel has also noted that the four periods of assem-
bly would be a logical time for Shenoute, who lived most of the year in the desert as an anchorite,
to deliver his sermons: “It was during these periods of assembly that volume 1 of Shenoute’s Canons
was to be read or heard by every member of the three congregations, and it seems likely that these
periods of assembly also provided most of the occasions on which Shenoute delivered sermons,
whether to the assembled male monks, or to a congregation of people from outside the monastery
who came specifically to hear him on these special occasions” (Emmel 2008, 41).
30
LR 25 (PG 31: 984).
228 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
“the method of reformation.” Third, the director must give an account for
each individual before God, and if he fails in his duties, his “blood will be
required of the Superior’s hands, as scripture says (Ezek. 3:20).” Pachomian
leaders, including Theodore and Shenoute, frequently refer to these same
three pastoral duties when addressing their monastic community, begin-
ning with the third, which in a sense is the most basic.
The responsibility for each monk corresponds more closely to the indi-
vidual counseling and cognitive disciplines considered in Part Two than
the obligations to the whole group explored in Part Three. Horsiesius
gives the responsibility a collective interpretation in his exhortation to
leaders that they must give an account “for every flock over which the Holy
Spirit has assigned you,” melding the blood metaphor from Ezekiel with
the injunction in Acts 2:28 “to shepherd the church of God, which [Christ]
acquired with his own blood.”31 Elsewhere he exhorts all those in a position
of authority, including seconds, housemasters, and house seconds, not to
neglect the correction of sinners: “For, if anyone dies because of us, our
soul will be held under accusation for the soul of that person.”32 The need
to give an account for each monk is also invoked when the leader disputes
with disciples:  Shenoute defends expulsion by appealing to his respon-
sibilities to all members in the community, who are endangered by the
presence of sinners. He declares that his opponents are responsible for their
own “blood,” and he will refute their accusations at the divine tribunal.33
The responsibility of teaching the “ordinance of God” is central to
the writings of both Theodore and Shenoute. Throughout his Third
Instruction, Theodore emphasizes loyalty to the monastic legislation and
covenant.34 He assures his disciples that, by obeying Pachomius’s com-
mandments, they will inherit the promises that God has made to him.35
Theodore offers exhortations on general themes such as cheerful obedi-
ence to superiors, as well as specific rules, for instance the instruction of
monks at the gatehouse.36 Finally, Theodore declares his own adherence
to the law in judging monastic disputes: “We will act in accordance with
the law which Apa gave, from a small commandment to a great one.”37

31
Hors., Test. 40 (Boon:  135). See also Theodore’s exhortation to those responsible for the care of
souls: “Let us fear very much lest, through negligence, a soul be seized for destruction, when it was
possible to save it” (Theo., Instr. 3:30, CSCO 159: 53); cf. Instr. 3:24.
32
Hors., Test. 13 (Boon: 117), part of a larger exhortation to monastic leaders in Testament 13–18.
33
See the discussion of Canons 4 in Chapter 7.
34
Relevant passages include Theo., Instr. 3:3, 3:24, 3:27, 3:36.
35
Theo., Instr. 3:5; 3:23; 3:30; 3:47.
36
Theo., Instr. 3:17, for which see the discussion in Chapter 2.
37
Theo., Instr. 3:21 (CSCO 159: 50).
 Collective Heart-Work 229
According to the biographical tradition, he made the rules of Pachomius a
cornerstone of his care for souls, showing “great care in his heart day and
night on account of the souls which the Lord gathered to him to guard
with great strength, according to all the rules and canons which our holy
father laid down for us as a law in the Koinonia of the siblings.”38 Similarly,
Shenoute frequently quotes the traditional laws of the White Monastery
federation in his Canons: Layton has identified and collected 581 examples,
which provide a measure according to which the disciples can regulate
their behavior.39
The final responsibility for monastic directors was to teach “the method
of reformation,” including specific discipline for individual infractions,
and repentance for the entire congregation through collective weep-
ing. Theodore repeatedly emphasizes the need for repentance, which he
describes in detail in the Third Instruction:40
Let us thank God, the father of our Lord Jesus Christ, that he has made
us worthy of giving us a little joy in the multitude of our troubles, as a
stillness comes upon our bent heart, through the greatness of our humility
and the strength of our faith. We pray strongly, with tears, that mercy and
forgiveness come about for us through God, so that he may not bring it to
a reckoning with us, but not pay attention to the sins of any one of us, but
that a renewal may occur for us through his help, that he may purify us of
the evil desires of the soul and body. . .
He further associates this heart-work of repentance with a covenant
renewal, calling upon each disciple to: 
return to the beginning of his vocation, that is, looking forward to the
promises which God promised our father Apa, he whose commandments
we have sworn [to observe], walking truly in the fulfillment of the law,
which is this: all of us a single heart, toiling for each other, practicing love of
one’s brother, compassion, and humbling ourselves, according to the saying
of the apostle Peter (Acts 4:32).41
In Theodore’s rebuke of the leaders who rebelled against Horsiesius, he
makes an explicit reference to a covenant:

38
V. Pach. SBo 195 (CSCO 107: 189). Cf. V. Pach. SBo 195 (CSCO 107: 147).
39
Layton 2014; an additional fourteen are taken from Besa’s writings. Many more rules were likely
contained in the lost sections of the Canons.
40
Theo., Instr. 3:23 (CSCO 159: 50–51); cf. Instr. 3:18 and 3:37–38. Penitence in the Pachomian tradition
is discussed in Veilleux 1968, 340–365; on similar teachings in the Exegesis on the Soul, see Lundhaug
2017.
41
Theo., Instr. 3:23 (CSCO 159: 51); earlier he similarly warns against going back on the initial com-
mitment (3:20).
230 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
So now, brothers, if we have sinned, let us repent. Behold, I will establish
with you a covenant in the presence of the Lord today, for the granting
of forgiveness for the contempt in which some of you are, because you
have attempted to disperse the holy place that the Lord granted to our holy
father Pachomius because of the prayers and tears which he made to Him
on our behalf.42
Once he had assumed leadership of the federation, Theodore’s
speeches of rebuke included even more urgent calls for repentance,
which were intended to induce the audience to shed tears of compunc-
tion. At the beginning of his rebuke following the revolt, he is said to
speak in “heart-pain.”43 The disciples in the audience immediately wept,
and he encouraged them to do so: “And when the sound of their weep-
ing diminished, then he [Theodore] himself wept loudly.”44 The authors
conclude by emphasising the power of Theodore’s words to produce
tears:  “When they heard this speech, they cried out and wept all the
more, through the contrition of the Spirit of the Lord which moved
their heart through his words.”45 For Theodore, this weeping “is a sign
that your repentance has not yet been destroyed, as long as you perceive
and you weep.”46 Finally, Theodore adopted a standard ritual procedure
for speeches of collective repentance: he delivered them standing as the
members of the congregation mourned, shedding tears and prostrating
themselves.47
Shenoute adopted Theodore’s rhetoric of ekpathy in his Canons, which
combined the recitation of monastic laws with calls to repentance. His
objective in provoking repentance is explicitly stated in the scribal note at
the end of the first volume:48
Those who do not want to repent of their evil deeds after they listen to all
the words which are in the book will be ashamed in front of those who are
able to go down from heaven to earth, and also to go back up to heaven.
The fire of Gehenna will inherit them. Your sins have not been quenched,
because you have not quenched them through tears and those worthy of the
mercy of God. It is you who have not extracted yourselves from these deeds
of pestilence.

42
V. Pach. SBo 142 (CSCO 99/100: 275).
43
V. Pach. SBo 141 (CSCO 99/100: 272).
44
V. Pach. SBo 141 (CSCO 99/100: 273).
45
V. Pach. SBo 141 (CSCO 99/100: 274).
46
V. Pach. SBo 141 (CSCO 99/100: 273). For the substantial variation in meaning attributed to weep-
ing across cultures, see Lutz 1999.
47
V. Pach. SBo 188; see the discussion in Chapter 3.
48
Shenoute, Canons 1 (Munier 1916: 115–116).
 Collective Heart-Work 231
Shenoute associated repentance with both inner heart-work and external,
visible practices: “I push you with great power so that you put aside enmity
and dispute and hatred and strife and pollution and theft and deceit and
slander and all guile, and everything evil, and that you turn to love and
peace and truth and purity and all humbleness and everything good.”49 It
also involved reconciliation with God and monastic siblings:  “We were
unable to persuade [those who have left the monastery] to turn themselves
from everything evil and reconcile with God and remove from their heart
all enmity and make peace with their neighbor.”50 Given the importance of
mutual forgiveness, it is no surprise repentance was also collective: “Even
if, by a mistake, we ignorantly act wickedly, then we share blame with our
companions so that we repent, so the Lord can pour his blessing on us
mercifully and patiently.”51
Like Theodore, Shenoute frequently promotes crying as a means of
practising repentance, especially in the context of monastic oratory. Many
letters and speeches in the Canons end with references to weeping in bit-
terness: “Do not forget what the prophet has said, while crying: ‘Bitterness
and gall! They will remember me, and my soul is bowed down with me.
This I will place in my heart’.”52 Shenoute himself describes how he weeps
as he dictates the Canons to a scribe: “I say these things as I weep, just as
I  have wept many times, as the Lord is my witness. And also our little
brother who writes these words is a witness, as he is disturbed and cries,
looking at me as I cry, while my tears run down my cheeks and onto the
ground.”53 Shenoute’s reference to the tears of the secretary who transcribes
the letter explicitly shows that this crying is meant to serve as an example
for the entire congregation.
In conclusion, the collective rituals instituted at the yearly meetings
were a means for monastic leaders, such as Theodore and Shenoute, to
fulfill their pastoral obligations to the full community of disciples. Both
also sought to manage conflict, by promoting repentance, or promoting
the solidarity of a single heart. In the next two chapters, we will explore
in more detail the commemoration of founders and collective repen-
tance, including the connection of this ritual heart-work to the monastic

49
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 144).
50
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 149).
51
Discussed in Krawiec 2002, 140. Collective repentance is also found in RM 14, which stipulates that
the entire community should kneel in tearful prayer on behalf of an excommunicated sinner who is
doing penance before the altar.
52
E.g. Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 77).
53
Shenoute, Canons 2 (CSCO 157: 120).
232 Monasteries & Care of Souls in Late Antique Christianity
theory of mind. The story of Pachomius, like monastic hagiography more
generally, afforded disciples a new perspective on their leader, detailing his
mental life as it related to the care of souls, and his secret prayers to God
on behalf of the congregation. In the Canons, Shenoute similarly revealed
his internal thoughts, emotions, and prayers to the disciples, in a kind of
reverse confession; he sought to provide an example of repentance, and
urged the congregation to expel polluting opinions and thoughts from
their hearts, just as he had expelled sinners.
 Ch apter 6

The Lives (and Minds) of Others

Hagiography, Cognition, and Commemoration

“[Melania the Younger] decided for herself how much she ought
to write every day, and how much she should read in the canoni-
cal books, how much in the collections of homilies. And after she
was satisfied with this activity, she would go through the Lives of the
fathers as if she were eating dessert.” Gerontius, V. Mel. 231
“ ‘Blessed be the God of our righteous father Pachomius, who has
become a guide to eternal life for us through the labor of his prayers.’
Then all the siblings answered with a single mouth and a single voice,
‘Blessed be our pious and righteous father, our father Pachomius, in
everything and in all his works’.” V. Pach. SBo 1942
This discussion of Melania’s voracious reading habits by her biographer
Gerontius reveals much about the role of hagiography in the monas-
tic care of souls. On the one hand, the lives of saints – both living and
dead – enjoyed an integral, even privileged place alongside scripture and
sermons. On the other, as Gerontius implies, reading them was consid-
ered a supplementary, pleasurable, and potentially controversial endeavor,
a kind of ascetic dessert. The importance of hagiography for cultural his-
tory has become increasingly clear over the past several decades, as scholars
have mined these texts for information about the holy man, for historical
evidence, societal expectations, and ideologies.3 In this chapter, I explore
disciples’ various cognitive and affective responses to the lives of other

1
SC 90: 174. Paulinus of Nola described to Sulpicius Severus how he read the Life of Martin to
Melania’s grandmother, Melania the Elder, whom he describes as “most zealous for such historical
works [on saints]” (Ep. 29:14) (CSEL 29: 261); for the popularity of the Acts of Paul and Thecla among
elite Roman female ascetics, see Cooper 1994, 70–72.
2
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186).
3
The literature on hagiography is vast, as are approaches to the genre; see, e.g., Brown 1971 (social
history/anthropology); Cox-Miller 1983 (cultural history); Rapp 1998 (rhetorical); Burrus 2007a and
2007b (critical theory); Barnes 2010 (history). On hagiography and the cult of saints, see Krueger
2004, 63–93.

233
234 Collective Heart-Work
monks.4 Within the cenobitic context especially, the life of the founder
was recounted in annual commemorative ceremonies of great significance
to community discipline.5
The pleasure of hagiography was highly significant for its ancient audi-
ence, a key fact that has been largely overlooked by scholars.6 The critical
theorist Roland Barthes famously suggested a typology of pleasure derived
from literary texts, based on various individual neuroses.7 Recent work in
cognitive cultural studies is more directly applicable to the ancient world.
Lisa Zunshine has posited that literature, and especially the novel, enter-
tains readers by training them in theory of mind: “We may see the pleasure
afforded by fictional narratives as grounded in our awareness of the suc-
cessful testing of our mind-reading adaptations, in the respite that such a
testing offers us from our everyday mind-reading uncertainties, or in some
combination of the two.”8 In this view, the enjoyment of fiction rests in
readers’ playful testing of their assumptions about characters’ inner moti-
vations, which sometimes must be inferred.
The perspective on the inner life of saints offered in many hagiographic
texts would have alleviated the “everyday mind reading uncertainties” of
disciples learning the monastic theory of mind. The Pachomian Lives in
particular revealed a great deal about the motivations and internal delib-
erations of both disciples and monastic leaders. The reader shares in
Pachomius’s experience of cardiognosticism, gaining a privileged access
to the saint’s mind as he or she practices the care of souls. Following
Zunshine’s theory, the disciple’s enjoyment of hagiography results from
the new perspectives gained on the motivations for monastic discipline,
which leaders often carried out in publicly, without necessarily revealing
their reasons for doing so.
This new perspective on the lives and thoughts of saints is implied by a
recurring figure in hagiographic literature, the monastic voyeur: a gazing

4
Note Peter Brown’s earlier and more general appeal to cognitive psychology in the study of hagiogra-
phy: “The raw dramas of the lives of saints entered the thought flow of an entire group of men and
women. . .” (Brown 2000, 20).
5
Thus, for the purposes of this study, “hagiography” does not always imply a written document; it
may also refer to an oration in honor of a saint (some of which were themselves transcribed).
6
Burrus 2007b explores the erotic pleasure, including from painful renunciation, expressed in
hagiography.
7
Barthes’s views are elegantly summarized by Jonathan Culler: “Barthes imagines a typology of plea-
sures based on reading neuroses: the fetishist treasures the fragment or turn of phrase; the obsessional
is a manipulator of metalanguages and glosses; the paranoid a deep interpreter, seeker of hidden
meanings; and the hysteric is an enthusiast who abandons all distance to throw himself or herself
into the text” (Culler 2010, citing Barthes 1975, 63).
8
Zunshine 2006, 20.
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 235
disciple, secretly following the leader, uncovering hidden aspects of their
ascetic conduct.9 The monastic voyeur represents an inversion of disciplin-
ary norms, a reversal of the hierarchy of surveillance in a kind of literary
carnivalesque.10 Another example of the carnivalesque in hagiography is
the reverse confession, in which leaders provide anecdotes about their own
lives, sometimes under questioning by disciples. In this chapter, I explore
various portraits of the monastic voyeur as an exemplary (if paradoxical)
figure for indications of disciples’ expected responses to hagiography. These
portraits also suggest further areas of training the monastic theory of mind,
such as learning how to appreciate the possibility of unobserved virtue in
humble, anonymous disciples.
The Pachomian biographical tradition featured the founder’s hidden
prayer life, including his initial revelations about building the monastic
community,11 and his covenant with God to care for souls.12 It also empha-
sizes the secret intercessory supplications offered by Pachomius and his
successor Theodore on behalf of the Koinonia. Theodore’s efforts to remem-
ber the life and thoughts of Pachomius – initiated at one of the annual
meetings – constitute the best evidence for the reception of hagiography in
an early cenobium. The second part of this chapter explores Theodore’s rit-
ual of commemoration for Pachomius as founding father of the Koinonia,
including praise for his patronage of obedient disciples, drawing on related
evidence from other early monastic communities.

I. Imitation
An important goal of hagiography was instruction through mimesis, or
imitating the example of others, a widely recognized educational prac-
tice in Greco-Roman culture.13 Pachomius himself urged the imitation of
biblical saints, exhorting his monks to “emulate the life of the saints and
conduct your life in their virtues.”14 But the desire to emulate others was
not without its contradictions, as is evident in the striking portrait of a
monastic voyeur offered by Ambrose in his lecture on virginity: “My words

9
For more on the gaze see Frank 2000, passim; Krueger 2010, 210. I use the term “voyeur” not
because this gaze always has sexual connotations (though in some cases it does), but rather because
it usually involves the violation of monastic rules.
10
For Bakhtin’s notion of the carnival and carnivalesque, see Denith 1995, 65–87.
11
E.g. V. Pach. SBo 12, 17, 22.
12
On Pachomius’s covenant, see the discussion in Chapter 2.
13
Brown 1983.
14
Pach., Instr. 1:6 (CSCO 159: 1); in 1:18 he suggests that cenobites imitate Abraham, Lot, Moses, and
Samuel, and that anchorites imitate the prophets.
236 Collective Heart-Work
have sketched the likeness of your virtue, you may see the reflection of the
gravity, as it were, in the mirror of this discourse. If you have received any
pleasure from my ability, all the fragrance in this book is yours.”15 While
Ambrose’s words are in earnest, his image is provocative, leaving open the
possibility of understanding ascetic strivers as narcissists who gaze intently
at biblical figures as if viewing their own image; moreover, he emphasizes
the pleasure of his discourse, rather than its moral utility.16 Emulation,
it seems, evokes pride and seems to conflict with the monastic ideal of
humility.
This ambivalence is reflected in the alternative figure of the humble,
obedient saint, which is clearly juxtaposed with the zealous emulator in
the Pachomian biographical tradition, through the contrasting portraits
of Silvanus and Theodore. Silvanus is described alternately as a boy or
former stage actor who gains fame in the Koinonia for his humility,17 while
Theodore’s life demonstrates his exceptional ascetic achievement and skill
at teaching others, in imitation of Pachomius. According to the First Greek
Life, as a boy Silvanus is almost sent away from the monastery as punish-
ment for his laughter, but is given a second chance by Pachomius. He
becomes a model of obedience, following every order of his spiritual direc-
tor in silence, with his eyes down: “He would not eat a vegetable leaf unless
he was commanded it. . .and he practiced asceticism sufficiently.”18 During
one of his lessons, Pachomius speaks of “a man whose like I have not seen
since I became a monk.” Theodore asks if he is greater than Petronius or
Cornelius, to which Pachomius replies:19
Why do you name others? For he is greater than even you. According to
time [as a monk] and asceticism and knowledge you are his fathers, but he
is greater according to the depth of his humility and the purity of his con-
science. For, having bound the beast warring against you, you have placed
him under your feet. But if you are careless, loosed again, it will rise against
you. But Silvanus has killed it.
Theodore and other senior monks practice asceticism in emulation of
Pachomius, and thus enjoy an elevated position in the monastic hierarchy.

15
Ambrose, De virginitate 2.6.39.
16
Figures of the monastic voyeur often contain “luminous details,” that is, literary “tears where ener-
gies, desires, and repressions flow out into the world” (Greenblatt and Callagher 2001, 15 and 209);
cf. the insightful application of this concept to hagiography in Cox-Miller 2003, 423.
17
In one tradition, Pachomius reprimands Silvanus for laughing too much; he then reforms himself,
humbly toiling in obscurity and obedience.
18
V. Pach. G1 105 (Halkin: 68).
19
V. Pach. G1 105 (Halkin: 69).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 237
On the other hand, the episode that immediately follows this anecdote
recounts how Pachomius demoted Theodore for agreeing to lead the
Koinonia after his death.20 Yet Silvanus is to be commended for his greater
humility, and serves as a model of repentance for all monks. We will now
explore both hagiographic ideals in greater detail.

Emulation
The drive to practice mimesis is highlighted already in the prologue to the
Life of Anthony, which was published at some point between 356 and 362
CE and became the most important literary model for monastic hagiogra-
phy. The author offers a programmatic statement in the preface, presenting
the Life as a kind of open letter to the “siblings in foreign parts:”21
But because you asked me about the way of life of the blessed Antony,
desiring to learn how he took up asceticism, who he was prior to this, and
what the end of his life was like, and whether the things told about him are
true, so that you also may bring yourselves to the emulation (zēlon) of that
man, I have received your request with great eagerness, for to me also the
mere recollection of Antony is of very profitable utility. And I know that
you, having heard, after marveling at that man, will also desire to emulate
(zēlōsai) his determination.
Antony is explicitly offered as a paragon for mimesis, in a kind of “noble
rivalry” (Greek) rather than pride-drive competition. This sentiment is
consistent with the Greco-Roman tradition, in which emulation (zēlos) is
an acceptable motivation for imitation, or simply a synonym for it. Thus,
Aristotle, in a discussion of literary mimesis, clearly distinguishes emula-
tion from envy (phthonos);22 the same idea is advanced for ethical mimesis
by Pseudo-Libanius, whose model of a paraenetic letter begins by exhort-
ing the recipient to emulate virtuous men.23
The authors of the First Greek Life of Pachomius present their hagio-
graphic enterprise as the latest stage in a continuous chain of literary and
ethical mimesis, which proves the recent monastic founders to be inheri-
tors of the biblical legacy:24
20
V. Pach. G1 106–107.
21
V. Ant. prol. (SC 400: 126).
22
Arist., Rhet. 1388ab. Ps.-Longinus also approves of the former emotion in his work on literary aes-
thetics (On the Sublime, 13:2–14:3).
23
Ps.-Lib., Epist. 52.
24
V. Pach. G1 17 (Halkin: 11); on the other hand, the authors acknowledge that their scriptural imita-
tion was also an expansion: “[Pachomius] endured many temptations of the demons, learning from
the holy Scriptures, and most of all from the Gospel. Part of the struggle of the saints was not
238 Collective Heart-Work
Therefore, “the things that we have heard and known and our fathers have
told us must not be hidden from another generation” (Ps. 78:3). For, as we
have been taught, we know that these (things) in the Psalm are the signs and
powers brought about by God on behalf of Moses and those after him. And
likewise, from the same benefit as those (predecessors) enjoyed, we have also
recognised these, the current fathers, as the children and imitators of those
(predecessors), so that to us and “to the coming generation” (Ps. 71:18), until
the end of the world, it might be made known “that Jesus Christ is the same
yesterday, today and forever” (Heb 13:8).
Thus, the hagiographer inscribes the life of Pachomius and other “fathers”
alongside the biblical accounts of Moses and Jesus, the prototypical law-
givers of the Old and New Covenants. Moreover, language suggesting kin-
ship is used to describe the transmission of virtue through mimesis: the
monastic founders are portrayed as the children of biblical heroes, while
the disciples  – as “infants”  – are in turn their children, with the corre-
sponding obligation to imitate them. Ambrose, in his address to virgins,
similarly emphasizes the importance of examples (his own are mostly bibli-
cal), appealing to “a kind of hereditary practice of ancestral virtue.”25
Antony himself is said to have developed as a monk primarily through
the imitation of several desert hermits, learning a different skill from each
one: “And if he heard of a zealous man anywhere, going forth like a wise
bee, he sought him, and he did not return to his own place, if he had not
seen him and taken from him, as it were, provisions on the road to virtue.”26
This model of diffuse mimesis – whereby particular virtues or practices are
selected from a variety of teachers – has its parallel in cenobitic monasti-
cism: the Rule of the Master justifies much of its discipline by making refer-
ences to hagiographic texts. For instance, Paul’s daily meal, as described
in Jerome’s popular Life, provided the model for the Italian monks’ ration
of a half-loaf of bread; and proper decorum for greeting traveling monks
was based on the description of Paul’s meeting with Antony in the same
work.27
Despite this use of diverse hagiographic exempla, the dynamics of imi-
tation within a cenobium were quite different than the anchoritic model

clarified in writing; the divine Scriptures, while showing the way to eternal life, use abbreviated
speech.” According to V. Pach. G1 99, they are composing a memorial on the model of the Life of
Antony.
25
Ambr., De virginitate 2.1.2. Thus, Ambrose explicitly claims for Christianity the importance of
ancestral virtue, so central to the Roman paideia in which he was steeped.
26
V. Ant. 3 (SC 400: 136). The life of Antony himself is presented as a “sufficient model of asceticism
for monks” (prol., SC 400: 126).
27
RM 26, 71; cf. 11 (Life of Eugenia) and 26 (Lives of the Fathers).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 239
proposed in the Life of Antony. John Cassian quotes Abba Pinufius, priest
of a monastic community near Panephysis, on proper mimesis:28
In order to obtain more easily to this (virtue), you should seek out, while
you live in the community, examples of a perfect life which are worthy
of imitation; for, beyond the fact that a life that has been scrutinized and
refined is found in few, there is a question of utility to be considered – that
a person is more carefully schooled and formed for the perfection of this
chosen orientation (namely, the cenobitic life) by the example of one.
This hierarchical strategy of imitating a single individual, rather than a
number of different monks, was the primary model of mimesis in cenobit-
ism. Thus, Theodore is presented as following the example of Pachomius
alone: “Our father Theodore was making every good progress (prokopē),
conducting himself with great fortitude, and he was also growing up in
the teachings he heard from our father Pachomius, as he walked according
to his example in all things.”29 Similarly, Horsiesius is described as emulat-
ing (zēlōn) Pachomius.30 These examples suggest that a certain degree of
open emulation was tolerated, and even rewarded: “The more they emu-
lated (ezēloun) one another’s achievements, the more they progressed (pro-
ekopton), especially seeing before them someone powerful in the Spirit, in
whom was Christ.”31 In short, even a kind of competitive mutual emula-
tion was deemed acceptable for advanced disciples, who nevertheless held
Pachomius as the ultimate standard.32
Imitation in the monastic context was tied to class and status only in
classical paideia, where it was largely an elite pursuit. Although Horsiesius’
background is unknown, Theodore was from a prosperous urban family,
and Petronius – Pachomius’ first, though extremely short-lived, successor –
donated a large area of land to the Koinonia before joining it. Pachomius
publicly praised their efforts at emulation, and when certain elders criti-
cized Theodore’s appointment as a leader, he lauded him, citing his pro-
gress: “Do not think that the kingdom of heaven is only for elders. . .I tell
you, Horsiesius, making progress (prokoptōn) is a golden lamp in the house

28
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:40. Antony himself, after collecting virtues from numerous different elders, is
himself presented as a “sufficient model of discipline” (V. Ant., prol.).
29
V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 35)
30
“Abba Horsiesius, in the midst of the siblings, was emulating the life of Abba Pachomius” (V. Pach.
G1 199; Halkin: 77).
31
V. Pach. G1 105 (Halkin: 69)
32
Thus, Pachomius criticizes the anchorite who “does not bear the burden of people [other ascetics],
but neither does he see those who practice [a virtuous] politeia, so that he imitate their behaviour
and virtuous politeia” (V. Pach. SBo 106, CSCO 89: 137).
240 Collective Heart-Work
of the Lord.”33 Indeed, it seems that Pachomian leaders were often praised
even in routine situations, such as a correspondence: Horsiesius, for exam-
ple, writes to “his beloved son, Theodore, who is honored and truly worthy
of Love. . .First of all, I greet your piety and disposition, which is perfect in
everything good.”34 Despite the focus on humility, then, public praise was
offered in response to monastic leaders.
Abba Pinufius regretted that he was not able to practice humility at
his own monastery in Panephysis because of his fame; he thus fled to the
Thebaid and entered the monastery of Tabennisi, which appealed to him
due to its reputation for strict rule, and his desire for anonymity: “Believing
in it he would go unrecognized because of the remoteness of the region and
that he could hide himself easily because of the vastness of the monastery
and the multitude of the siblings.”35 He is initially treated with suspicion
because of his age, but is eventually admitted and assigned demeaning tasks
in the garden under the tutelage of a younger brother.36 Pinufius embraced
these assignments humbly, even continuing his work at night in secret; after
three years, a traveling monk recognizes him and reveals his identity to the
Tabennisiots. Pinufius flees again, this time absconding at Cassian’s mon-
astery in Palestine, where Egyptian monks on pilgrimage discover him. In
the Lausiac History, Macarius of Alexandria, dressed as a workman, anony-
mously joins the Tabennisiots, this time under Pachomius.37
A story in the sixth-century Life of Fulgentius continues the topos of
monastic leaders’ desire to live humbly and anonymously under a rule.
Fulgentius, while serving as abbot of a community in North Africa, reads
Cassian (no doubt the Pinufius story just discussed), and decides to flee his
post and travel to Egypt to live incognito in a monastery; he halts this plan
only when he is advised of the Egyptians’ theological “heresy.”38 Later, he
attempts to abandon the monastery he has founded, after “he considered
for a long time how he might cast off the burden of his present responsibil-
ity, and, under the direction of others, he might himself live under a rule
instead of transmitting the rule of living to others.”39 Fulgentius’ ongoing
efforts to escape his responsibilities suggest that the position of a monastic
leader is spiritually inferior to that of a humble, obedient monk. Yet he is

33
V. Pach. G1 119 (Halkin: 77), quoting Wisdom of Solomon 7:48–49.
34
Hors., Ep. 2 (CSCO 159: 65).
35
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4:30.
36
As we have seen, such hazing is typical among monks who have recently joined the monastery.
37
Pall., HL 18.
38
V. Fulg. 8; an excellent analysis of this text is found in Leyser 2007.
39
V. Fulg. 11 (PL 65: 131–132).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 241
ultimately unsuccessful in his attempt at anonymity, according to his hagi-
ographer, because “he was conspicuous among the others in his wondrous
knowledge and distinctive eloquence,” so that his disciples discover him
there and bring him back.40 These episodes reveal a fundamental paradox
of the care of souls: Fulgentius’ innate excellence shines through even as a
disciple, suggesting that he is destined for leadership; and yet he considers
the life of humility and obedience to be the greater calling, to the extent
that he perilously neglects his own duties in order to attain it.
The stories of Pinufius, Macarius, and Fulgentius thus illustrate the
ambiguities of emulation and praise in a cenobitic environment: the lead-
ers who are to be imitated often seek anonymity and a life of humble
obedience. The same ambiguity is expressed for the less virtuous:  while
some may be motivated to zealously imitate the lives of the saints, others
may see in them their own faults. Nilus of Ancyra, a fifth-century ascetic
teacher, describes these possible responses to hagiography in his panegyric
of Albianus, a local hero who became an anchorite in the Holy Land:41
For some will be zealous in every way for the virtue of those [saints], straight
away receiving a desire for it, because their soul is spurred on by a cer-
tain natural impulse towards the good; and others will marvel at this [vir-
tue], even if some wicked attachment hinders its imitation, while weighing
themselves, and determining by how much they lack the good.
While some members of Nilus’s audience will be struck with a desire
to emulate the life of Albinus, others will humbly realize the extent to
which they fall short of his virtue, as well as their inability to imitate him.
In the following section, we will consider an alternative model for such
monks: the humble saint.

Models of Humility and Concealed Sanctity

The figure of the humble saint, represented by Silvanus in the Pachomian
biographical tradition, quickly became widespread in hagiography. The
appeal of this model of obedience is also reflected in pilgrims’ reports about
cenobitic groups, which focus primarily on their institutional structure,
rather than the virtues of the founders or leaders. For example, the authors
of the Lausiac History and the Historia Monachorum in Aegypto describe
with great admiration the complex structure of the Tabennesiots’ com-
munity, neglecting to mention Pachomius or his successors, in contrast to
40
V. Fulg. 14:30 (PL 65: 132).
41
Nil., Alb. (PG 79: 697).
242 Collective Heart-Work
the usual focus on the exploits of individual anchorites.42 The same trend
is evident in Jerome, who reports to Eustochium on the exemplary obedi-
ence of the “cenobites,” by which he likely means the Pachomians. In par-
ticular, he discusses their organization into groups of ten, aspects of their
liturgy, the function of the deans and steward, daily life (including prayer
and fasting), and special topics, such as care of the sick.43 Finally, Cassian
offers a long description in the Institutes of the way of life in Egyptian
cenobia, including the Tabennisiots.44 Like Jerome, he focuses on their
obedience, especially as reflected in the instruction of novices.
This sub-genre called attention to the underappreciated, rank-and-file
disciples, whose hidden virtue – or to use Krueger’s apt description, “con-
cealed sanctity” – is unmasked for the benefit of others.45 One potentially
subversive implication of concealed sanctity is the abbot’s inability to iden-
tify piety in his or her disciples; for instance, a pious nun in the women’s
monastery at Tabennesi who successfully pretends to be a fool until the
visiting monk Piteroum discovers her great virtue.46 From the perspective
of disciples, curiosity regarding one’s colleagues was considered a violation
of the monastic command to keep the eyes lowered, thus avoiding any
unnecessary interaction, including a simple glance.47 Indeed, Dorotheus
of Gaza’s self-portrait as monastic voyeur in Discourses 7 suggests that the
naive pursuit of concealed virtue can lead to moral confusion. Dorotheus
recounts how, as a young monk, he respectfully asked an older disciple to
tell him “what thoughts were habitually in his heart, either when he was
insulted or when he was treated badly by someone, that he should manifest
such patience.” This reverse confession, in which a senior disciple shares his
thoughts to a more junior one, reveals the former’s unexpected contempt
for others:48
“Oh, I just have to regard them as trivialities or put up with it as a man
puts up with the barking of a dog.” Having heard this I cast my eyes down

42
Pall., HL 32; and HM 3.  Detailed institutional information is rare in hagiography:  cf. John of
Ephesus’s description of the entrance procedures of a monastery near Amida (Lives of the Eastern
Saints 20).
43
Hier., Ep. 22:35.
44
Cassian, Inst. coen. 4. I suspect that the reference to the “Egyptians” probably refers to the Pachomian
monastery of the Metanoia and other establishments outside Alexandria.
45
Krueger analyzes the topos of “concealed sanctity” in his study of Symeon the Holy Fool.
46
Pall., HL 34:6; on the holy fools genre, see Krueger 1996, 36–56.
47
E.g. Pach., P 7. Cf. Rousseau’s evocative assessment of paradoxical isolation in the cenobium: “The
loneliness that comes from being indistinguishable from one’s fellows could hardly be more vividly
described or imposed” (Rousseau 1985, 87).
48
Dor., Doctr. 7 (SC 92: 290).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 243
and said to myself, “Has this brother found the way?” And signing myself,
I went away praying to God.
Dorotheus, not yet capable of discernment, is confused by the dubious
nature of this technique, and seeks God’s help through prayer.
Once Dorotheus had gained experience and attained a position of
authority, he was charged with supervising Dositheus, a young and dis-
solute military escort, who suddenly joins the monastery of Tawatha after
seeing a depiction of the terrors of hell in a Palestinian church.49 After
Dositheus dies young, the monks begin to invoke him in prayers for
aid, although some reject this, noting that he did not practice an exact-
ing asceticism. In response, Dorotheus wrote the Life of Dositheus, which
emphasizes his humble obedience as an assistant in the monastic hospital,
despite his notable incompetence at this job. It describes how Dositheus
slowly learns self-denial; for instance, when he becomes attached to a par-
ticular tool in the infirmary, Dorotheus forbids him to use it. Eventually he
attains an exemplary level of obedience. Thus, Dorotheus was able to culti-
vate and eventually publicize a virtue that was concealed to other members
of the community.
Numerous stories emphasize not the cultivation of concealed virtue, but
its discovery by the monastic hierarchy. John of Ephesus collected mate-
rials for his Lives of the Eastern Saints by interviewing “normal” monks,
both anchoritic and cenobitic, in the Miaphysite communities of northern
Mesopotamia. John’s subjects each had their own peculiar ascetic prac-
tices, hidden behind the veneer of a humble silence and uniformity of
monastic behavioral norms. For instance, when a “nameless” elderly monk
visiting the monastery of Mar John in Amida refuses to identify himself,
he is observed in his room by curious monks.50 This reflects the standard
procedure of surveillance, but the results are inverted: the spying uncov-
ers virtue, rather than sin. At first, the mysterious visitor frustrates these
efforts by hiding under his sleeping mat. In the morning, John questions
him, finally adjuring him to reveal his identity and ascetic practices; the
anonymous monk in turn makes John swear not to share his answer for
three years. The ascetic practice is simple: to thank God after each sip of
a drink. When the revelation is made, John now appreciates the depths
of ascetic piety in the guest’s unique table manners, and later reveals the
“profit” behind this apparently mundane behavior. There are many other

49
Dor., V. Dos. 3 (SC 92: 126).
50
John of Ephesus, Lives of Eastern Saints 15 (PO 17: 248–259).
244 Collective Heart-Work
examples of concealed sanctity in John’s Lives:51 it is as if the program of
diffuse mimesis in the Life of Antony has found its way into cenobitic
monasticism. The model of hidden sanctity appears to be a compromise,
allowing for measured achievement among otherwise anonymous, humble
disciples, without threatening the authority of the leader.
Other narratives assume that concealed sanctity is known by the abbot,
who plays the role of “tour guide” to curious visitors. For instance, in
Sulpicius Severus’ Dialogues, Postumianus describes his trip to Egypt,
where he stayed at a cenobium in the Thebaid, probably a Pachomian
community, although not explicitly identified as such.52 The abbot and
other monks take him around the monastery and its environment, show-
ing examples of holiness among both the cenobites and the anchorites
who live in the surrounding desert.53 The first incident is an anti-example,
in which the abbot rebukes two children for revealing to the entire com-
munity the asp they had miraculously tamed in the desert. He later holds
up two elders who had lived in the monastery for forty years as examples
of humble perseverance: one who never indulged in food, the other who
was without anger. Postumianus is also taken to see several isolated desert-
dwellers, who benefit from various miracles: from the divine provision of
bread in periods of extreme fasting, to the taming of lions.
Indeed, many concealed saints lived outside the cenobitic environment,
either in the city or the desert, as is clear in the Life of Daniel of Scetis, a
biography of the leader of the famous semi-eremitic community in Lower
Egypt during the sixth century.54 This text does not focus on Daniel’s way
of life nor his own ascetic achievements as abbot, but rather on his ability
to recognize holiness in unexpected places, and to reveal their example for
all: a discernment not of demons, but of saints. Some of these are pres-
ent in his semi-eremitic community, for instance women dressing as men,
whose gender is uncovered only after their death. There are more, however,
who have left the confines of the monastery: in Alexandria, for instance,

51
In the case of another monk, Zacharius, John is unsuccessful in getting him to speak, but learns
from others about his practice of keeping silence by putting a stone in his mouth, and his use of
a thread to help concentrate during prayer: John of Ephesus, Lives of Eastern Saints 19 (PO 17:
266–272).
52
Sulp. Sev., Dial. 1:9. Postumianus traveled from Jerome’s monastery in Bethlehem to Alexandria,
where he then traveled to the cenobium in the Thebaid: in my view, this itinerary suggests that
he journeyed from the Pachomian monastery at Canopus to the heartland of the Koinonia in
Upper Egypt.
53
Sulp. Sev., Dial. 1:10–16.
54
Greek text in Dahlman 2007. The terminology used for the monks who hide their virtues is “secret
saint” (kruptoi douloi).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 245
Daniel uncovers a holy fool, who had earlier resided at the Pempton mon-
astery, where he had gone to repent for an unspecified “wasteful life.”
Another urban saint, in this case a figure of repentance and unexpected
(rather than concealed) sanctity is the reformed prostitute, as in the Life
of Pelagia, a text recounting the story of a famous actress living in Antioch
who later repents and becomes an ascetic.55 Here the bishop Nonnus
plays the role of voyeur at an episcopal conference, gazing at the beautiful
Pelagia as she walks by; all the bishops turn their faces away, following the
traditional ascetic strategy for avoiding temptation. Once Pelagia has left,
he asks the other bishops if watching her gave them pleasure, admitting
that it did for him. This is not due to her beauty, but paradoxically because
of her outstanding dedication to her profession: “Lord Christ, have mercy
on a sinner, for a single day’s adorning of a prostitute is far beyond the
adorning of my soul. . .She has promised to please men, and has kept her
word. I have promised to please God, and have lied.”56 John Climacus, in
his Ladder of Divine Ascent, seems to refer to this story in a dialogue about
the marvels of chastity: “A certain man, he says, having gazed at beauty,
greatly praised the Creator on account of it; and from the sight alone he
was brought to the love of God and a font of tears.”57 Climacus points to
Pelagia’s ability to provoke repentance, while condoning male ascetics who
meditate on her eroticized body.58
The Life of Mary features another reformed prostitute, who has left
the city to live as a solitary anchorite deep within the desert east of the
Jordan.59 The monk Zosimus, having retreated to the desert for Lenten
fasting, encounters the deformed and unrecognisable body of Mary, whom
he at first fears is a demon. Despite her assurances to the contrary, Zosimus
asks about her identity and origins, using questions typically addressed to
visitors of monasteries, also relevant for the discernment of spirits. Mary
then relates the story of her life, including her days as a lustful harlot in
Alexandria; her trip to Palestine, in which she uses her charms to obtain
passage on a boat; and her eventual conversion after being rebuked by

55
On “holy harlots,” see Burrus 2007, 128–159.
56
As Salisbury writes, “the vision of a prostitute inspired the saintly Bishop to a higher recognition
of holiness. This is a reversal of the standard expectations of patristic warnings against looking at
women” (Salisbury 1991, 100).
57
Jo. Clim., Scal. 15 (PG 88: 892).
58
Without denying the validity of reading Pelagia and Mary as figures of repentance, Miller also
describes them as “grotesques:” “The figure of the harlot-saint is a grotesquerie  – a not-quite-
coherent construct – and as such brings to its most acute expression the problematic category of
early Christian attempts to construct a representation of female holiness” (Miller 2005, 423).
59
V. Mariae (PG 87: 3697–3726).
246 Collective Heart-Work
the Virgin Mary. Thus, the Life of Mary is presented as the revelation of
a formerly sinful life that has been reformed through asceticism, but not
forgotten. Nevertheless, there is a twist:  although the manifestation of
thoughts is intended to benefit the disciple, here Mary is presented as the
spiritual superior, and she speaks for the benefit of Zosimus. At his request,
she recounts the extreme temptations she faced in her first years as a her-
mit, emphasizing how repentance always rescued her.
The author of the Life of Mary presents useful details related to the
interests and motivations of Zosimus as a monastic voyeur. At the begin-
ning of the work, his internal deliberations are fully described: an elder of
fifty-three years, he has remained in a monastery since childhood, where
he has achieved fame for his piety, but eventually becomes complacent,
wondering: “Is there a monk on earth who can impart something new
to me. . .Is a man found among the philosophers in the desert who bests
me in asceticism or contemplation?”60 Zosimus is thus attracted to Mary
not only because of her miraculous body and life story, but his desire
to overcome boredom with everyday monastic life: both of these ques-
tionable motivations are subsumed under her exemplary humility and
repentance.
Mary also represents more generally a key figure of concealed sanctity:
the anchorite dwelling in the remote desert, separated from all human
companionship. The earliest example of this kind of figure is Paphnutius,
a presbyter of Scetis and interlocutor in Cassian’s Third Conference, “On
Withdrawal.” According to Cassian, Paphnutius perfected the virtue of
obedience in the cenobium as a young monk, and seeking constant com-
munion with God, withdrew into the inner recesses of the desert, beyond
even the anchorites.61 He may be identical to the Paphnutius to whom is
attributed the Life of Onnophrius, another monk who withdraws into the
Edenic wilderness.62 In many ways, these isolated desert dwellers are as
remote from cenobitic monks as angels.
Yet disciples could still meditate upon these distant and elusive solitary
ascetics. In his Mystical Treatise 80, “On Vigils,” Isaac of Nineveh marvels
at their enthusiasm and commitment in the face of physical austerities and
demonic temptations. Isaac offers a unique account of the cognitive effects
of contemplating desert saints:63

60
V. Mariae 3 (PG 87: 3700).
61
Cassian, Inst. coen. 3:1.
62
On the Life of Onnophrius, see Vivian 2000.
63
Trans. Wensinck 1923, 372.
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 247
When a man is occupied in his mind with these and similar things, he
becomes drunk as it were with living wine, and forgets himself. Then he
sees himself again and wonders that during the whole of this travel through
the desert and during the meeting with saints, no injury at all has met his
mind. And now it seems to him as if he were with those saints and saw
them manifestly. And on account of this recollection of the behaviour of
the saints which the mind imagines to itself through the remembrance of
their tales, and through meditation upon them, dejection vanishes; sleep
is driven away from the eyelids; the spirit is strengthened and throws fear
away; distraction is crushed heroically; the mind is concentrated; a fervent
heat burns in the heart and unspeakable joy arises in the soul. Further sweet
tears moisten the cheeks; spiritual exultation makes the mind drunk; unex-
plainable consolations are received by the soul; hope supports the heart and
strengthens it. Then it is to him as if he dwelled in heaven, during his vigils
that are so full of good things.
Isaac’s description concentrates on the vivid imagination of travel to the
desert and gazing at the saints. This practice of meditating upon an image
is based on hagiography (“the remembrance of their tales”), and is said to
lead to alertness, focus, tears mixed with joy, and finally, hopeful consola-
tion. As Isaac suggests, contemplation of a desert saint is similar to the
visualization of heavenly journeys: both recall Paradise in monastic litera-
ture. Zosimas, who relates the story of Mary, “was often deemed worthy to
receive a divine vision through illumination coming to him from God.”64
The extreme sanctity of Mary, Onnophrius, and others like them is con-
cealed because they have abandoned the monastery entirely; but disciples
can still harness their piety through attentive meditation.

II. Commemoration: Praise
While emulation of virtue and the pursuit of humility were key aspects of
hagiography’s role in the care of souls, commemoration was equally central
in the cenobitic context, especially with regard to praise of the founder.
This praise was not only for his or her great virtue, but also for the efforts
undertaken on behalf of the congregation. These efforts were often invis-
ible, such as the vigils of prayerful intercession with God to forgive the
sins of the disciples. This secret activity is the target of a monastic voyeur;
a “senior brother” follows Theodore to the hidden tomb of Pachomius,
watching him pray there until dawn for God’s mercy upon the Koinonia,
“on account of the tears of our just father, with whom you established

64
V. Mariae 2 (PG 87: 3700).
248 Collective Heart-Work
a covenant.”65 The brother hears supplication, and then “secretly told all
the siblings all the words which our father Theodore had spoken in tears
before the Lord.”66 This act represents an inversion of monastic propriety, a
reverse surveillance in which the leader is spied upon, apparently unaware,
by one of the disciples. But once again a virtuous act is uncovered, one that
can only be practiced by a monastic founder (or leader).
Theodore himself frequently made efforts to commemorate the teaching
and actions of Pachomius. Although scholars have focused on reports of
his encouragement of others to write the founder’s Life, he also delivered a
eulogy for Pachomius during the annual meeting of the Koinonia at Phbow
to celebrate the Pascha.67 In this initial commemoration of Pachomius –
which is summarized in the Great Coptic Life – Theodore emphasizes his
extraordinary achievements as founder: “He began to tell them about the
life (bios) of our father Pachomius since his childhood; and all the struggles
he bore from the beginning when he established the holy Koinonia; and
the temptations of the demons, and how he took from them the souls
which the Lord gave him; and of the revelations which the Lord disclosed
to him.”68 Commemorating Pachomius is a particularly pressing matter
because, as Theodore reminds them, “God established a covenant with
him to save a multitude of souls.”69 Theodore argues that the virtues of the
Koinonia’s founder, who himself followed the example of the prophets and
Jesus, distinguish its members from other monks.70 Moreover, the disciples
continue to be dependent on his patronage, even in death: “And we too
the Lord has saved through his holy prayers.”71 Thus, Theodore encour-
ages the disciples to praise Pachomius as founder, spiritual director, and
patron, arguing that by doing so and following his rules, they will secure

65
V. Pach. SBo 198 (CSCO 89: 194).
66
V. Pach. SBo 198 (CSCO 89: 194–195). For intercessory prayer by holy men or “saints,” cf. Rapp 1999
and Torrance 2010.
67
Most studies of Pachomian hagiography ignore this context of its original presentation; see, how-
ever, Rousseau 1985, 46–47, who suggests that it was first conceived “at a moment of crisis,” and thus
“could take on a public, almost political significance.”
68
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184). Theodore is further claimed as an authoritative witness, using as
sources what Pachomius told him, or what he saw with his own eyes.
69
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184); cf. V. Pach. S3 (CSCO 99/100: 107). Pachomius’s covenant with
God to serve humanity occurs frequently in the biographical tradition, which Ruppert presents
in a larger section on Pachomius as an intermediary between his monks and God (Ruppert 1971,
188–201).
70
V. Pach. SBo (CSCO 89: 185).
71
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184). In First Instruction 32, Pachomius himself notes [of biblical
saints]: “if you love the labor of the saints, they will be your friend and intercede on your behalf
before God” (CSCO 159: 12).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 249
their salvation.72 After briefly contextualizing this encomium within early
Christian hagiography, I will consider its key element in detail.
The content of Theodore’s oration reflects, in broad strokes, the basic
expectations of a funerary encomium, including a narrative about the
deceased’s life and a description of his or her virtues, offered in commemo-
ration on the day of burial or anniversary of his or her death.73 Indeed,
some of the oldest extant ascetic biographies are also encomia, including
Gregory Nazianzen’s orations in honor of Basil and Gorgonia.74 Jerome,
Gregory’s onetime assistant, also composed various funerary encomia.
These memorials were written, in the first instance, for relatives of the
deceased, including one addressed to Paula upon the death of her daughter
Blesilla, and a eulogy of Paula presented to her daughter Eustochium, which
was no doubt read at the monastery in Bethlehem that Jerome directed
with her.75 But these examples are imperfect comparisons to Theodore’s
ritualized eulogy of Pachomius: Gregory was not commemorating Basil in
front of the monastic communities he founded, and Jerome’s memorials
were letters, not speeches.
There are several extant orations in honor of deceased monastic fathers
that were delivered to the cenobia that they founded or directed. Although
these have received relatively little attention in comparison to longer or
more polished literary hagiographies, they offer significant insight into the
logic of commemorating monastic founders, who were thought to serve as
patrons of the community not only in life, but also in death. There are a
multitude of witnesses to the Life of Shenoute, including Sahidic fragments,
and versions in Bohairic, Arabic, Ethiopic, and Syriac. Some of these,
including the Bohairic (the only one translated into English), are presented
as eyewitness accounts of his successor Besa. But as Nino Lubomierski
has demonstrated, the surviving written versions are the culmination of
a lengthy development of traditions, driven especially by commemora-
tive speeches delivered first at the White Monastery and later elsewhere,

72
Compare the treatment of Pachomian biography in Bacht 1972, 213–224, based especially on
Horsiesius’s Testament, which emphasizes Pachomius’s commandments and example, as well as his
labors on behalf of the congregation and his patronage more generally.
73
Kierdorf 1980; Flower 1996.
74
Gr. Naz., Or. 43. Lubomierski shows that much of Shenoute’s biographical tradition corresponds
to the basic structure of encomia, including topoi such as family, birthplace, and education, as well
as way of life, all covered at the beginning of the longer versions of the Life (Lubomierski 2007,
122–140).
75
On Jerome’s commemoration of Paula and its broader context within hagiography and the cult of
saints, see Cain 2013.
250 Collective Heart-Work
on Shenoute’s feast day.76 Other examples exist outside the Egyptian con-
text: an encomium on Honoratus, founder of the community at Lérins, by
Faustus, its third abbot; and a series of Syriac hymns (madrashe) honoring
Julian Saba, a fourth-century ascetic outside of Edessa, which constitute a
particularly rich source for the dynamics of liturgical praise.77

Praising the Monastic Founder and Patron

The praise of a monastic leader with the expectation of spiritual benefit
was controversial enough for Theodore to feel that he needed to justify it.
Augustine, for example, warns catechumens against “placing their hope
in a human,” rather than following their example in leading a just life.78
Theodore addresses precisely this complaint in his initial encomium, not-
ing: “Perhaps some of you think that they are giving glory to flesh. No! Or
that our hope is placed in a human. No again! But we glorify and we bless
the Spirit of God which is in him.”79 He argues that blessing Pachomius
is itself a biblical commandment and a means of securing God’s bless-
ings, pointing to God’s covenant with Abraham: “For didn’t God say to
Abraham, who had done his will, ‘I will bless him who blesses you and
I will curse him who curses you?’ ” (Gn. 13).80 Theodore also asserts that
Jacob and Joseph passed on divine blessings to their children and siblings
by invoking the name of their fathers, thus creating a kind of genealogy
of piety.81 Following these models, Pachomius is worthy of praise from his
76
Lubomierski 2007. At the White Monastery, the founder Pcol was commemorated, as suggested
by a fragmentary speech of Shenoute. A fragmentary liturgical calendar lists other early cenobitic
leaders who were commemorated: Pshoi the Anchorite, founder of the smaller men’s community
(no date); Zenobius, a local archimandrite, perhaps of the White Monastery (Mshir 6); Theodore,
“Son of Saint (Pachomius)” (Pashons 2); Pachomius “The Archimandrite” (Pashons 14); and Antony
(Pashons 21) (Zanetti 1994).
77
Scholars have largely ignored these fascinating texts, perhaps because they offer almost no historical
details about Saba’s life. The major exceptions are Griffith 1994 and Harvey 2005. Although all the
hymns are attributed to Ephrem, only the first four were composed in Edessa; the rest are by Saba’s
disciples, who frequently use the phrase “our community.”
78
Aug. De catech. rud., 1:7–11. See also Augustine’s exhortation to imitate the martyrs, rather than to
take pleasure in their festivals, in his sermons (Brown 2000).
79
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186). Although Veilleux doesn’t provide a scriptural reference for this
passage, the likely intertexts are Psalm 117:8 and Jeremiah 17:5.
80
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186). A fragmentary passage from the Sahidic biographical tradition
similarly advocates praising one’s ancestors, while noting the transmission of their law across genera-
tions. It describes how God identified himself to Moses as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob;
Joshua ordered the congregation to remember what Moses had commanded them to do; and the
prophets similarly invoke the law of Moses: V. Pach. S3b (CSCO 99/100: 363–364).
81
To demonstrate that children inherit divine blessings based on their parents’ virtue, Theodore had
earlier noted God’s reminder of Isaac that Abraham followed “my commands and my ordinances
and my laws,” and further, “On account of Abraham your father, I will bless you, because you
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 251
children: “Isn’t it just for us as well to exalt and honour a righteous man
and a prophet whom the Lord gave us as an honour, so that through his
[Pachomius’s] holiness, we might know Him [God]?”82 In short, praising
the monastic founder is both the disciples’ filial obligation and a means of
obtaining the inheritance of his blessings.
Theodore makes another set of scriptural justifications for commem-
orating Pachomius in the Third Sahidic Life, namely passages in which
Paul and others “commend” (synhista) the saints, including prophets and
apostles, alongside God: Heb. 11:32 and Galatians 2:1–2.83
We say these things lest someone say that it is proper to commend saints,
because the spirit of God is in them, but it is not necessary to commend
the others, who are their disciples, like (we commend) the holy, with whom
God made a covenant. Therefore I have also told you their testimonies in
the Scriptures, so that you will know that the one who commends a just
person teaches himself in the fear of the Lord. . .So isn’t it worthy and just
to commend a man of this sort, because he is a servant of God and a son of
the saints, namely our just father?
While commendation is not technically praise, the mere act of recalling
Pachomius is also said to secure divine favor, as Pecosh told the young
Theodore before he joined the Koinonia: “I believe that God will forgive
many of my sins because of the commemoration of that righteous man
whose name I have just spoken in this place, in your presence.”84
Another group of scriptural justifications for praising a deceased monas-
tic leader is found in an encomium for Shenoute attributed to Besa.85 This
text, described as a kathēkēsis, is addressed to a crowd that has assembled
at the monastery, probably in its church. Like Theodore, Besa connects
his praise to the accrual of blessings, addressing Shenoute in the open-
ing lines: “May the Lord bless you and your children.” He then quotes

have done my will” (Genesis 26:2) (V. Pach. SBo 194, CSCO 89: 188). A similar point is made by
Pachomius himself: “remember also the ministry and labour of the saints, you and your friends who
have known God’s will with you, so that they may also become co-heirs of the same promise. . .”
(Ep. 4:3, Boon: 86).
82
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 189).
83
V. Pach S3b (CSCO 99/100: 291–292). These proof texts come at the end of his speech following the
revolt of Horsiesius, rather than the initial encomium, as in the Great Coptic Life.
84
V. Pach. SBo 29 (CSCO 89: 31). Cf. Barsanuphius’s response to Dorotheus’s query about the reasons
for commemorating saints: “One who performs the commemorations of the saints without vain-
glory, considering that one acts from God and not one’s own consideration, becomes a joint par-
taker (symmetochos) with these saints and receives the wage from their master” (Bars., Resp. 261, SC
450: 236). For further discussion of the cult of saints in Barsanuphius and John, see Torrance 2009.
85
Besa, Frag. 38 (CSCO 157: 126–127). The header states that it was delivered “on the day of com-
memoration of our holy father the prophet Apa Shenoute, on the seventh of the month Epēph.”
252 Collective Heart-Work
Hebrews 13:7 as a scriptural justification for his commemoration: “Truly
you are worthy of commemoration at all times, O my holy father, for
the holy apostle Paul says: ‘Remember the great ones, those who taught
you the word of God, those whose exalted way of life you observe.’ ”86
Besa singles out Shenoute’s zealous prayers, as in the Pachomian biograph-
ical tradition: “God does not forget your tears and your prayers and your
nights of vigil. A man who glorifies God, how will someone say that God
has not glorified him?” Here the implication is that by offering glory, the
congregation is simply fulfilling the will of God.
Twenty-four Syriac hymns in honor of Julian Saba, a famous anchorite
active near Edessa during the middle of the fourth century, also provide
excellent evidence for the liturgical praise of a commemorative founder. The
hymns comprise a series of verses sung by a leader, followed by the assem-
bly’s response in the form of an identical refrain. They explicitly address
God as the true object of honor, which is consistent with Theodore’s stip-
ulation that Pachomius be praised “next to God.”87 Several hymn refrains
express the anxiety that Saba’s disciples will not join him among the just at
the last judgment.88 Yet there is hope that he will continue as an interces-
sor after death, as in life: “Let us lament, my beloved, because the untiring
man of prayer, the continual intercessor and helper, has left us. May it be
the will of our Lord that he, just as he was our helper in his life, may also
be a wall for us through his bones, like Joseph.”89 However, the disciples
must fulfill their obligation to praise Saba in order to secure his interces-
sory prayer: “May the humility of the one who prays to you [Saba] lift me!
Because my tongue has praised his [Saba’s] humility, may the prayer from
his [Saba’s] mouth raise my weakness.”90 Furthermore, the community
of ascetics will increase through the continued patronage of Saba: “May
your prayer increase the great community, and may our community sing
psalms at your commemoration.”91 Here patronage is presented as a kind

86
Theodore also invokes Heb 13:7 in V. Pach. S3B (CSCO 99/100: 291). In addition, Besa quotes Psalms
111:6 and 101:3; compare the passages cited by the author of the Greek Life: Hebrews 13:8, Psalm
71:18 and Psalm 78:3.
87
The ultimate focus on God is perhaps best expressed in several refrains: “Praise to the one [God]
who has chosen him [Saba]” (Hymn 1:1; CSCO 323: 36); “Praise to your [Saba’s] Lord, through your
[Saba’s] commemoration” (Hymn 5:1; CSCO 323: 47).
88
“May we be made worthy to see him again!” (Hymn 2; CSCO 323: 39); “May we be made worthy of
your virtue” (Hymn 4; CSCO 323: 45).
89
Hymn 2:17 (CSCO 323: 42).
90
Hymn 12:13–14 (CSCO 323: 59).
91
Hymn 22:11 (CSCO 323:  81). Cf. “May our lord bless the settlement of your sons, and may the
voices, which sing your psalms, increase!” Hymn 22:16 (CSCO 323: 82).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 253
of contract: Saba looks after the members of his community, and in turn
receives more praise as his followers increase.
Similarly, Faustus presents the praise of Honoratus as both a pleasure
and a duty, in particular a filial obligation: “Nevertheless, I will obey my
duty and your desire in pronouncing a speech, even if brief. . .this glorious
father does not need the mouth of an unworthy son to be praised. . .but it
is a very great pleasure for us, because of our zeal and affection, to com-
memorate, even briefly, his merits which are so abundant.”92 Faustus clari-
fies that the disciples’ praise is not intercessory, and Honoratus has no need
of it.93 On the contrary Honoratus is their intercessor, and continuously
supports the community in this role, offering “very great benefits” to them,
because “he implores the Lord: ‘these men have committed a grave error;
remit from them this sin’.”94 In this case, Honoratus secures the forgive-
ness of repentant monks, just as Theodore uses the commemoration of
Pachomius to renew the community’s obedience to the rules.
In his Encomium to Theognius, Paul, a disciple of this sixth-century
abbot, exhorts his monastic audience to imitate Theognius’s example of
repentance through tears:  “I frequently observed the blessed man wet
with tears and importuning God on behalf of the whole world. Let it
be that we also offer the Judge a bowl of repentance mixed with wailing
and inexpressible groans, so that, because of this, we might share in the
great rejoicing of the righteous in the age to come.”95 The significance of
the disciples’ tears, however, is very different. Whereas Theognius employs
them in intercessory prayer – an act for which Paul’s encomium memo-
rializes him  – the audience’s tears are understood exclusively as a form
of repentance. This key distinction is especially clear in the peroration,
when Paul compares the laziness of the present community with the great
ascetic feats of Theognius, and declares that they need the help of their
patron: “Take with you, father, all the saints who love you and, along with
them, be ambassadors to the compassionate King.”96 Thus, for Paul, an
imperfect form of imitation is possible, which both calls upon the disciples
to account for their own behavior and humbly affirms the necessity of
patronage from their monastic father.

92
Hom. 72:2 (CCSL 101A: 775). For background see Leyser 1999.
93
The authors of the First Greek Life similarly note: “We wrote down a few of the many things, not so
that we might praise him, for he does not desire human praise, for he is there with his fathers, where
the true praise is” (V. Pach. G1 98; Halkin:65). On the other hand, praise from the congregation is
one of the “favors” that Honoratus enjoys in the heavenly court: Hom. 72:5 (CCSL 101A: 776).
94
Hom. 72:14 (CCSL 101A: 780).
95
Paul of Elusa, Encomium 20 (Vailhé: 103).
96
Paul of Elusa, Encomium 20:25 (Vailhé: 112).
254 Collective Heart-Work

Imitation through Obedience

As we have seen, hagiographers often call their audience to emulate the
virtue of the saint. Yet Theodore’s commemorative program, like Paul of
Elusa’s, recognizes the limits of imitation, given the sharp distinction he
presents between the sinful disciples and their holy sponsor Pachomius.
In his instructions, he does assert in general terms that it is necessary to
imitate Pachomius in order to obtain his blessing (“Let us imitate the life
(bios) of Apa Pachomius. Let us acquire for ourselves his parrhesia [with
God] in this aeon and the next”);97 and to become his children through
mimesis.98 In his eulogy to Pachomius, Theodore also suggests that the
disciples should imitate their founder, not by repeating his great ascetic
labors, but by following the commandments, as he himself did. Theodore
reminds the disciples of Pachomius’s own obedience to the command-
ments: “How he used to gather us around him daily and speak to us about
the holy commandments so that we might observe each one of his com-
mandments, which are in the Holy Scriptures of Christ, and how he used
first to practice them in his activities before giving them to us.”99
Indeed, Theodore’s commemoration of Pachomius’ Life seems to have
been in response to a crisis of disobedience within the monastery: before
the annual meeting, he is sick with worry because “he saw the majority of
the siblings had grown cold in their desire to practice the commandments
which the perfect man, our father Pachomius, had given them to perform
with every enthusiasm.”100 Similarly, in the speech itself, Theodore worries,
“I am fearful that we may forget his labours and that we not realise who
made this multitude a single spirit and a single body.”101 Citing the bibli-
cal examples of the sons of Rechab who prospered by keeping “the com-
mandments of their father” (Jeremiah 35:18, 19), Theodore assures them

97
Theo., Instr. 3:35 (CSCO 159: 56). Gennadius notes that Theodore wrote letters to his monaster-
ies in which “he sets forth the examples of the life and teaching of his master and instructor
Pachomius” (Genn., De vir. ill. 143, Bernoulli: 43).
98
Theo., Instr. 3:47 (CSCO 159: 60): “We are worthy, my beloved, to be called among the inheritors
of those [saints; Horsiesius has recently been named]. Let us make our own their behaviour that
we may be found as children [of our fathers].” Cf. the discussion of “Theodore’s rhetorical fusing of
biblical materials and the historical legacy of Pachomius” in Watts 2010, 99, and further in Watts
2016.
99
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 185). More generally on commemoration as the liturgical context of
John the Little, see Davis 2008c, 29–32, who connects it to meditation on scripture and mime-
sis: he identifies the goal “of remembering John’s example of remembering God in Scripture and
prayer” (32).
100
V. Pach. SBo 193 (CSCO 89: 183).
101
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 255
that they will inherit the blessings promised to Pachomius if they do not
become “negligent and forget his laws and his commandments, which he
gave to us while still with us in the body.”102 In short, Theodore suggests
that Pachomius’s death has resulted in a diminished enthusiasm for his
commandments; he seeks to commemorate the founder’s life and virtue
so that his “children,” the disciples of the Koinonia, will enthusiastically
follow their pious fathers’ rules, as an inheritance.103
Faustus’s commemoration of Honoratus follows very closely the empha-
sis on obedience as laid out by Theodore. Even as he offers his eulogy, the
abbot asserts that his predecessor Honoratus prefers imitation to praise,
declaring to the monks: “in order to attain what he has obtained, let us
follow his teaching.”104 Faustus’s evocative description of the pleasures
of observing Honoratus’s precepts,105 as well as its attendant blessings, is
worth quoting in full:106
Truly, my very dear brothers, those who have had the pleasure of finding
themselves face-to-face with this extraordinary man have been filled with
joy at living with him, at eating with him, at being a soldier of God under
his discipline. But then, he who has walked on his traces, followed the scent
of the perfume of Christ, is not able to take less joy, who has detached him-
self from his country or from relatives through love of him. . .Because that
one, I say, who has observed his precepts, considers that it is as if he were
seeing him in person. Because even if he . . . does not see him now, he will
see him in eternity, which is much better. And he who is compelled to be an
inheritor of his merits here below will be blessed also to become one day the
co-inheritor of the favors which he has received.
Even those disciples who did not personally know the founder of their com-
munity are able to equally rejoice in him through obedience to his teaching,
as if “seeing him in person.”107 This behavior ensures the inheritance of the
blessings promised to Honoratus, whom they will see in heaven.

102
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 185). Earlier in the Life, Pachomius himself linked obedience to his
rule with inheritance of his divine blessing: “And also it is the Lord who knows every word of the
law which I have left for you so that you might walk in them and do them, and so that you might
fulfill them and see any of the places of rest for your souls” (V. Pach. SBo 118, CSCO 99/100: 89).
103
Similarly, the hymns to Saba lament the loss of their spiritual guide: “Our life was set in order by
you. But your order-bringing voice has left us” (Hymn 22:7; CSCO 323: 81).
104
Hom. 72:3 (CCSL 101A: 776).
105
Although there is no Rule attributed to Honoratus, according to Faustus he was a mediator of bib-
lical commandments, namely “precepts of the apostolic rule, constituted from the two Testaments,
as the two tablets, and taken from the teaching of the Egyptian fathers, as from a mountain of
virtues” (Hom. 72:3, CCSL 101A: 776). Compare Theodore’s portrait of Pachomius as legislator.
106
Hom. 72:3, CCSL 101A: 776.
107
Brown chronicles the importance of the saint as patron, friend, and invisible companion, focusing
on Paulinus of Nola and his poems on Felix (1981, 50–68). Rituals of commemorations encouraged
256 Collective Heart-Work

Rites of Praise
Theodore’s encomium in honor of Pachomius provides a useful frame-
work for exploring key ideas related to the commemoration of monastic
founders: the patron receives praise for intercessory prayer; and imitates
Pachomius by obeying his commandments, in order to inherit the bless-
ings promised in his covenant with God. Theodore ties all these themes
together at the end of his speech, orchestrating a ritual expression of praise,
in what appears to be an antiphon, by reciting: “ ‘Blessed be the God of
our righteous father Pachomius, who has become a guide to eternal life
for us through the labor of his prayers.’ Then all the siblings answered
with a single mouth and a single voice, ‘Blessed be our pious and righ-
teous father, our father Pachomius, in everything and in all his works’.”108
It seems that Theodore is instituting a liturgical praise in the form of a
responsory, which may have been included in an annual commemoration
of Pachomius’s death.
Theodore’s antiphon follows the Pachomian conception of prayer as
a blessing of God that cultivates a sense of thanksgiving, as analyzed in
Chapter 5. Here, Pachomius is praised alongside “the Lord who created
us.”109 Furthermore, the blessing is done “with a single mouth and a single
voice,” recalling Theodore’s earlier assertion that Pachomius “made this
multitude a single spirit.”110 Indeed, the overall tenor of the ceremony is
one of rejoicing and encouragement: the disciples are reassured of receiv-
ing a divine blessing because they have blessed Pachomius, “joyfully and
with great trust in him.”111 Moreover, Theodore argues that this practice
has scriptural precedent:  each biblical saint “exalts the one before him
who showed him the way to life, that he might know God.”112 Thus,
praising Pachomius was a kind of ritualized obedience, a metonymy for
following all of his rules, which would earn them his support for their
salvation.

disciples to imagine such a relationship with their monastic founder. Cf. the cultivation of Jesus as
a friend by contemporary Evangelicals in Luhrmann 2012, 72–100.
108
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186).
109
V. Pach. SBo 194.
110
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 184).
111
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 186). Compare the message of encouragement in a later Egyptian
monastic biography, the Life of John the Little: “In hearing John’s Life read out on his feast day, the
monks at his monastery would have been reminded annually of how their daily life was framed as a
martyr’s struggle and how in the midst of that struggle they could take consolation in the fact that a
“crown of righteousness” awaited those who finished the race and kept the faith” (Davis 2013, 358).
112
V. Pach. SBo 194 (CSCO 89: 187).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 257
In addition to the annual commemoration, Theodore and Horsiesius
regularly encouraged their disciples by reminding them of Pachomius’s
patronage before God, interceding for their salvation. In a Letter, Theodore
explains the benefits of obedience: “Then our father in the other age will be
able to witness for us, ‘This is how I have commanded them’. For it is writ-
ten, ‘He is our mediator before God, so that we may be saved from all sins’
(1 Jn 2:1–2).”113 Similarly, Horsiesius’s Testament recommends that monks
imagine Pachomius praising them, joyfully, before God, for following his
commandments:114
Thus, dearest siblings, you who follow the life and precepts of the cenobia,
hold firm in your resolution once taken up, and fulfill the work of God: so
that the father who first instituted the cenobia, rejoicing, may speak to God
on our behalf: “As I have passed onto them, thus they live.”
Elsewhere he describes Pachomius boasting about his disciples among the
saints: “ ‘These are my children and my people. And my children will not
deny me.’ After such a testimony, let us not lose the trust of our good
conscience, having polluted the garments with which he clothed us.”115 In
short, disciples were taught to imagine Pachomius as a kind of personal
sponsor and source of support, an attitude that was surely facilitated by the
joyous annual commemoration.

III. Conclusion
Scholars have largely overlooked the ritual aspects of commemorating
Pachomius, focusing instead on the complex history of its written compo-
sition, and especially the priority of the Greek or Coptic versions. Indeed,
Theodore also encouraged the creation of a Life written by Greek-speaking
monks as part of his overall program of commemoration, and the authors
of one of the resulting biographies were familiar with the Life of Antony,
even citing it as a model.116 But this process seems to have begun only
after Theodore’s initial encomium, which may have been delivered before
the publication of the more famous hagiographical work attributed to

113
Theo., Ep. 2:4, trans. Veilleux 1982, 129 (Coptic text not yet published). Pachomius is also invoked
as a supporter of the Koinonia in its worldly trials, for example when the duke spares Phbow
because of his prayers: V. Pach. SBo 185; cf. V. Pach. SBo 125.
114
Hors., Test. 12 (Boon: 116).
115
Hors., Test. 46 (Boon: 138).
116
V. Pach. G1 2.
258 Collective Heart-Work
Athanasius.117 While the Life of Antony was dedicated to an external audi-
ence, promoting the Egyptian hero as a model for others to emulate, the
praise of Pachomius occurred within the Koinonia and was intended to
cultivate a relationship with the departed founder as the community’s
patron, including a renewed commitment to follow his commandments in
order to inherit his blessings and obtain salvation. While not all disciples
could emulate his virtue, they practiced their monastic theory of mind by
following his divine revelations and inner prayer life, as expressed in his
enlightened discipline of monks, and especially his supplications on the
Koinonia’s behalf.
When Theodore himself dies, the tradition of commemoration he had
instituted for Pachomius is extended by Horsiesius, who leads the Koinonia
in lamentation, citing their own sinfulness as the reason for Theodore’s
departure: “This is the great grief, which we have taken on all the more
because it is we who grieved him until he asked the Lord to take him from
us quickly, and we have become orphaned.”118 After thus pointing to their
faults, Horsiesius offers a consolation, namely all the prayers Theodore
made on their behalf: “For you all know his great love for us, always pray-
ing to God on our behalf, that he might save us from the devil, who envies
us.” Like Pachomius, his exceptional works are worthy of remembrance:119
So now, my beloved siblings, let us always remember his labors, his works of
asceticism, and his tears, which he shed in the Lord’s presence day and night
on our behalf, lest this passage of scripture apply to us also, “They hastened
to forget his works nor did they keep his counsels” (Ps. 106/105:13); and lest
we come under judgement.
By obeying Theodore’s teaching, the disciples not only fulfill their duty of
commemoration, but assure that he will continue to intercede for them
after his death, just as he did in life, but now before God and Pachomius,
on the model of Jesus’ intercession (1 Jn 2:1–2). Finally, Horsiesius empha-
sizes that obedience to the law of the Koinonia will allow them to inherit
eternal life, as the children of Pachomius: “Let it happen that they say to
us, ‘Welcome, children who obeyed their father and kept the command-
ments which he gave them. Come, inherit eternal life with your fathers

117
V. Pach. SBo 194, 196; cf. V. Pach. G1 99, in which the writers declare “as zealous children we have
endeavored to remember the fathers who raised us” (Halkin: 66). See Rousseau 1985, 44–48, for a
discussion of passages related to the formation of the biographical tradition.
118
V. Pach. SBo 208 (CSCO 89: 210–211).
119
V. Pach. SBo 208 (CSCO 89: 211).
 The Lives (and Minds) of Others 259
because you have walked in their footsteps and the commandments which
they gave to you’.”120
This model of commemorating the founder was also practiced at the
White Monastery federation, although little evidence remains for it until
the time of Shenoute’s successor, Besa. While Shenoute himself seems to
have delivered speeches in praise of Pcol,121 and possibly even composed a
biography of Pshoi,122 the focus of his literary efforts, including references
to the history of his monastic federation, is reflected in his nine volumes
of Canons. Even after Shenoute’s own biographical tradition had achieved
widespread popularity, it was the Canons that attracted the attention of
Moses of Abydos, a monastic leader. This is reflected in a dialog with dis-
ciples about emulating his illustrious predecessors:  “They said to him,
‘You are Apa [Pachomius]’, and ‘You are Apa Shenoute’. He said, ‘No, but
I strive to be a child to them’.” Yet he accomplished this not by imitating
their life, but by studying their writings: “Because of his parrhesia and the
purity of his heart, and the way he yearned for everything which is writ-
ten, he would say: ‘If another speech is written, bring it to me’.”123 In the
final chapter, we will explore Shenoute’s Canons as another ritual expres-
sion of monastic authority, one that focuses on grief rather than joy. As in
biography, it was couched in a description of mutual obligations between
the disciples and their leader, Shenoute, who selectively revealed his world
of inner thoughts and life of prayer, including his own troubled history of
directing the federation, as part of a collective ritual of repentance.

120
V. Pach. SBo 208 (CSCO 89: 212).
121
There is limited evidence for a feast day of Apa Pcol:  the beginning of a speech of Shenoute
(Acephalous Work A6), delivered on the 22nd of Mshir, has been preserved. For discussion, see
Layton 2014, 32.
122
According to the Arabic Synaxarion, Shenoute wrote the Life of Pshoi (CSCO 49: 452–453). In my
view, the Naples Fragment may be from this Life, given its focus on Pshoi; however, the incomplete
state of preservation makes it difficult to test this hypothesis.
123
CSCO 73: 210.
 Ch apter 7

Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness

Rituals of Collective Repentance

“I want to speak about the things which pain my heart. I also want
to remain silent because of my inadequacies, which accuse me. The
perception of my heart compels me to speak; once again my sins hin-
der me, in order that I be silent. It is better for me to speak than to
remain silent; I will speak concerning the greatness of monasticism,
which has been humbled.” Hors., Instr. 71
“After we read the epistle that we wrote at the beginning to our fellow
congregations – these concerning whom we are also now troubled in
heart – we remembered the things which happened to us, through
the enemy, on account of our closed hearts; and we remember how
God acted for us, until he plucked us from the demonic depths and
impiety which were hard upon us.” Shenoute, Canons 62
Shenoute of Atripe was archimandrite of the White Monastery federa-
tion for over fifty years, from approximately 385 to sometime after 451
CE.3 In his nine volumes of Canons, addressed to the monks and nuns
living in the three affiliated communities, Shenoute develops a complex
self-presentation as an authoritative pastoral figure, providing his disciples’
material needs and care for their souls, and responding harshly to numerous
conflicts and disciplinary challenges. While early scholarship highlighted
Shenoute’s use of brutal force as a means of domination, recent studies
have justifiably pointed to his rhetorical strategies as a far more effective
exercise of power.4 These include frequent exhortations to maintain the
federation’s purity, based on his privileged knowledge of the spiritual state

1
CSCO 157: 75–76. The manuscript heading appropriately states: “The things on account of which he
experienced anguish.”
2
Amélineau 2: 302.
3
For the chronology of Shenoute’s career, see Emmel 2004b; cf. the criticisms in López 2013, which
have in turn met with critical reviews, e.g. Dijkstra 2015.
4
My approach builds on the previous studies of Krawiec 2002, Brakke 2006, and Schroeder 2006
and 2007.

260
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 261
of individual monks and the monastic federation as a whole; as well as his
self-presentation as a humble “suffering servant.”
Despite his ongoing struggles to maintain authority, Shenoute pro-
fesses self-doubt about his ability to lead the federation: “For it is I who
am a more sinful wretch beyond all people; and it is I who have become
foolish, because I did not place my hand over my mouth from the start.
Perhaps the Lord was intending for another one, more powerful, and more
worthy for others to listen to him, because he is just in the way of those
who have fallen asleep.”5 This stated ambivalence recalls the humble tur-
moil of Horsiesius as he dares to speak in the midst of his insecurities and
emotional pain:
I want to speak about the things which pain my heart. I also want to remain
silent because of my inadequacies, which accuse me. The perception of my
heart compels me to speak; once again my sins hinder me, so that I might be
silent. It is better for me to speak than to remain silent; I will speak concern-
ing the greatness of monasticism, which has been humbled.6
Like Horsiesius, Shenoute’s heart compels him to speak, both because
of its perception of sin, and the emotional pain he experiences as a result
of this sin; in communicating these feelings to his disciples, he calls upon
them to repent.
In this chapter, I  describe Shenoute’s heart-work in response to sin
within the monastic community, especially as revealed in sections of
Canons 1, 4, and 8.  In these volumes and others, Shenoute frequently
and self-consciously refers to the key themes of the Canons: his privileged
knowledge of evil thoughts and deeds within the monastic federation; his
own resulting inner turmoil; the disciplining, including expulsion, of the
sinners; followed by group repentance of the remaining monks.7 He even
encourages monks to consult his own previous writings for a demonstra-
tion of his role as God’s intermediary in the unmasking and punishment of
monks. These were read aloud, along with the rulebook, at the four yearly
meetings, the most probable context for the rituals of collective repentance
alluded to in the Canons. Shenoute urged his disciples to expel demonic
thoughts from their heart, which – as a microcosm for the individual – had
to be maintained in purity, just as he expelled sinful monks to avoid pol-
luting the monastic community as macrocosm.

5
Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302, f. 3r.; text in Emmel 2004b, p.162, n. 33).
6
Hors., Instr. 7 (CSCO 157: 75–76).
7
E.g., Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 126), with many other examples discussed below.
262 Collective Heart-Work

I. The Canons and Shenoute’s Career

During Shenoute’s extended career he produced a substantial corpus of
writings, including the Canons, which were addressed exclusively to his
monastic community. Each of these nine volumes is composed of indi-
vidual works of varying length, which are referred to as “letters” (epistolē)
or “speeches” (logos). Some works are directed at specific recipients, for
example, Shenoute Writes to Tachom, the leader of the female community,
in Canons 9.8 Others, such as the works in Canons 1, appear to have been
circulated openly within the monastery, although their length (many are
longer than, for example, an imperial edict) makes it difficult to imagine
the precise means of publication and distribution.9
At least some of the letters were read aloud to the assembled congrega-
tion.10 Indeed, Shenoute frequently refers to his own oratory in the corpus,
and he probably delivered some of the Canons “speeches” in person, which
may have been recorded by stenographers.11 This background of oral deliv-
ery is reflected in the mixed use of verbs from writing and speaking. For
example, Shenoute reports a challenge to his authority: “From where does
this one who writes speak these words and these deeds?”12 He also invokes
his own physical presence, as in a letter from Canons 8: “. . .he who speaks
with you enters, and he is seated in your midst.”13 Thus, as we explore the
Canons, it is important to remember that, although highly literary, they
should also be understood in the institutional context of their production,
initial delivery, and later recitation.
As Stephen Emmel has demonstrated, the Canons reflect a certain orga-
nizational logic, and were in fact edited by Shenoute himself.14 Although

8
Krawiec 2002, 49.
9
On this question, see Dilley 2017.
10
In a letter from Canons 6, Shenoute describes how some of the nuns mocked one of his previous let-
ters, as it was read aloud by his representative: “as he who speaks with you [i.e., Shenoute] wrote in
the first letter which was read off to the side in you [f.s., i.e., the women’s congregation], while they
were confused, before the death of our old father, as some who were coming to listen in the place
where it was read cried; while others laughed; others ridiculed; and others mocked” (Amélineau
1:152). See the discussion in Krawiec 2002, 46.
11
This seems more likely for the Discourses, similar to traditional patristic homilies, which Shenoute
delivered before an audience usually consisting of both monks and non-monks, probably in a
church, such as the distinctive Late Antique basilica still standing on site.
12
Shenoute, Canons 5 (CSCO 73: 64). He responds “He says all these things and all these deeds which
are written in the papyri. . .” For more on this and other passages related to the “papyri,” see below.
13
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 77). Earlier, he asks the recipients to “look upon his affliction
when he speaks like this” (Boud’hors 2013: 77).
14
The possible contexts in which the Canons were delivered, and their association with various written
media, are discussed in Dilley 2017.
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 263
none of the nine volumes is preserved in its entirety, it is evident that
each focuses on one or several recurring themes or events.15 Furthermore,
the Canons appear to be organized roughly in chronological order (with
the exception of Canons 3, apparently the latest), thus providing a basis
for a history of Shenoute’s career. Canons 1 is the earliest and was writ-
ten before Shenoute became leader of the federation. It consists of several
letters to the congregation in response to a crisis of leadership, namely a
revolt against the second father of the congregation, Ebonh.
The rest of the volumes provide fascinating snapshots of the federa-
tion’s development under Shenoute’s leadership. Canons 2 is a collection of
epistles addressed to the women’s community, apparently composed soon
after he took control of the federation, as he sought to assert his authority
over it in response to a series of internal disputes. The precise contexts of
Canons 3, 5, and 9 remain elusive, because the preserved sections consist
largely of rules, possibly written in response to related infractions. Canons
4 and 6 contain lengthy speeches in which Shenoute defends his disciplin-
ary actions, generally before the entire congregation.16 Canons 7, composed
around the time of the construction of the massive church still standing
today, and its use during a refugee crisis, also contains addresses to the
monastic assembly. Canons 8 contains various letters and speeches, both to
the women’s community and the entire congregation, in which Shenoute
makes frequent references to his own clothing and a debilitating skin ill-
ness.17 Canons 3 concludes with a “testament,” probably written at the end
of his life, which includes a fascinating ritual script calling for obedience
to the rules and repentance.
The combined evidence of the Canons suggests that Shenoute was in a
near-constant state of conflict. Indeed, the history of his interactions with
the women’s community, as chronicled through a set of thirteen fragmen-
tary letters found across several volumes, has been elegantly described as
a series of ten “crises,” ranging from favoritism in food distribution to
complaints over clothing.18 In these letters, Shenoute justifies his previ-
ous decisions, criticizing both the actions of specific individuals and the
more general attitudes he attributes to the women’s community; at times

15
For an overview of the Canons, see Emmel 2004a, 2.553–605.
16
For more on the structure of Canons 6, see Behlmer 2008.
17
Canons 8 contains seven works, according to its editor Anne Boud’hors: five sermons of varying
length (62, 62, 110, 59, and 22 manuscript pages), and several shorter letters at the end written for
more specific circumstances (Boud’hors 2013, 71–74); for the texts related to the women’s commu-
nity, see Krawiec 2002, 47–49.
18
Krawiec 2002, 31–50.
264 Collective Heart-Work
he requests additional information about a dispute, and sometimes he rec-
ommends disciplinary action.
Canons 4, 6, and 8 provide excellent examples of Shenoute’s defense
of his own actions, apparently to the assembled congregation. Canons 4,
in its current state of preservation, exists in two parts:19 a lengthy speech,
Why, O Lord, in which he justifies his actions against a number of monks
who have left the monastery (it is unclear whether they have willingly
departed or been expelled by Shenoute); and a seemingly unrelated letter
to the women’s community in which he attempts to intervene in a dispute.
Canons 6 includes at least five individual works:20 the first, He Who Sits on
his Throne, is an address to the monastic assembly in defense of his harsh
beating of an elderly monk, apparently resulting in death; another speech,
Remember, O Brethren, also concerns the dispute surrounding this same
opponent. Several writings at the beginning of Canons 8 also relate to seri-
ous breaches in the monastic rule, in which Shenoute’s clairvoyance is at
issue, as well as the visionary authority claimed by one of his opponents.

II. Shenoute’s Rhetoric of the Heart

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Shenoute’s rhetoric in the Canons is
the open discussion of his inner thoughts and emotions, from personal
anxieties to communication with God. Indeed, the Canons can be read as
a kind of selective, public diary. This strategy of self-presentation recalls
the focus on the inner lives of Pachomius and Theodore in the biographi-
cal tradition, as examined in the last chapter, and there are hints of similar
practices outside the Egyptian tradition: the Rule of the Master directs the
superior to notify the congregation when under temptation, in order to
obtain their support through prayer.21 However, Shenoute never suggests
that he is actively struggling with demonic temptation; instead he focuses
on communication with God and angels, and presents himself as a media-
tor of divine judgement.22
Shenoute’s claim to deliver God’s message to the congregation through
warnings, curses and various other authoritative (if obscure) pronounce-
ments can be profitably compared to the anthropology of spirit possession.

19
Emmel 2004a, 2.573–575.
20
Emmel 2004a, 576–579.
21
RM 15.
22
Although he occasionally refers to demonic conflicts, such as his dramatic encounter with two
demons disguised as a Roman magistrate and his assistant while wandering the monastery alone at
night: see Canons 9 (CSCO 42: 37–41), discussed in Brakke 2006, 3–4 and 7–8.
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 265
As Janice Boddy has argued, “spirit possession” is a dramatic, public
performance, a “rendering of embodied knowledge graspable by others
through performance and conversation.”23 Building on this definition,
cognitive anthropologist Emma Cohen analyzes public “spirit possessions”
through the lens of theory of mind. She proposes two ways in which the
audience might explain the speaker’s possession: first, the more intuitive
“displacement principle,” according to which only one mind can be active
at any particular time, in this case the spirit’s; and second, the “fusion prin-
ciple,” that two minds, namely the spirit’s and the possessed individual’s,
are simultaneously active.24 Conflicts over meaning and authority often
involve differing interpretations of possession as displacement or fusion.
Shenoute’s various “performances” before the congregation, as recorded
in the Canons, can also be understood from the perspective of theory of
mind: does he speak for God, or himself, in managing conflict? For exam-
ple, his opponents assert that his actions against them reflect his own per-
sonal hatred, not divine will; however, Shenoute acknowledges his own
sin, but attributes his disciplinary acts, including curses, to God’s com-
mand. In essence, this is a dispute about the nature of Shenoute’s interior
state as leader of the monastery: he claims a “fusion principle,” according
to which he can simultaneously speak for God and his own human insecu-
rities in the Canons. On the other hand, his opponents represent a negative
statement of the “displacement principle:” Shenoute does not represent
God, but only himself. It is uncertain whether they accused him of instead
being possessed by demons, as he accuses them.
The simultaneous appeal to divine inspiration and human weakness is
crucial to Shenoute’s self-presentation as a leader. His indecision and regret
are meant to demonstrate to his audience that God is disciplining him
as well, even as he punishes sinners with physical beatings and expulsion
from the congregation. As Krawiec notes in her masterful analysis of the
“rhetoric of suffering:”
Shenoute also presented himself as God’s obedient servant, who had no
choice but to obey God’s commands to beat and expel the monks. His obe-
dience required him to suffer since God’s requirements were painful for him
to execute. Hence his representation was meant to forge an identification
with the monks; like them, he was to be obedient even if suffering resulted
from that obedience.25

23
Boddy 1994, 426.
24
Cohen 2007, 129–154.
25
Krawiec 2002, 59. For a discussion of Shenoute’s self-presentation as the “suffering servant of God,”
drawing especially on the Psalms and prophets, see Krawiec 2002, 51–73. She identifies three forms
266 Collective Heart-Work
On the one hand, Shenoute offers himself as a model of repentance for
the entire congregation (including god-fearers with no part in the con-
flict), asserting that he is a sinner before God while lacing his speeches
with tears.26 On the other, he does not acknowledge the charges brought
against him by his opponents, always defending his acts of discipline and
expulsion as following the divine will.27
Shenoute justifies his frequent expulsions through the logic of pollu-
tion:  an individual sinner threatens to pollute the entire monastic body
through contagion, and must therefore be removed from the group.28 To
demonstrate this, Shenoute draws on a rich set of metaphors, including
the Pauline notion of individuals forming a single monastic body.29 In
Canons 7, he uses the church as a metaphor for both the monastic commu-
nity and individual disciples, who must maintain their own purity so that
God may continue to dwell in the building and render it holy.30 As I will
show in the following sections, Shenoute’s concern with purity extended
to other aspects of the human person, specifically the heart.31 Sinners pol-
lute the congregation because of evil thoughts and deeds; and just as he
expels these sinners from the congregation, obedient disciples must remove
evil thoughts from their heart.
In writings from the Koinonia, purity of heart (or soul) is often com-
bined with purity of body.32 Thus, in his First Instruction, Pachomius
exhorts his audience to maintain “a single heart with your brother, vir-
ginity in all your members, virginity in your thoughts, a pure body with
a pure heart.”33 In the same text, this purity is specifically tied to the
monastic “promise,” which recalls the White Monastery oath: “After we
promised God purity, after we promised monasticism, let us accomplish
its works:  fasting, prayer without ceasing, purity of body and purity of

of suffering: “Through the renunciation of power to identify with the monks, through descriptions
of the monastery as a suffering body, and by identifying himself as a suffering servant, in the same
lineage as the prophets, apostles, and saints of the past” (66).
26
“Woe to me, because I  have sinned; therefore my heart has become pained.” Canons 1, unpub-
lished: FR BN Copte 1302 f. 1v–2r, Coptic text in Emmel 2004b, 163, n. 34.
27
This strategy of denial is similar to the recommendation in the Rule Augustine that monastic leaders
should not apologize for harsh discipline: they should ask God for forgiveness, not their community
(Regulae 6:3).
28
See the rich analysis in Schroeder 2007, 54–89.
29
In Canons 8, for example, he associates the monastic community with a city (the heavenly Jerusalem),
his own garments, and even his own body, suffering through illness.
30
Schroeder 2007; in one extended metaphor, Shenoute compares the “measures of people’s hearts” to
the dimensions of the place of God (Canons 7, Amélineau 2: 144; discussed in Schroeder 2007, 106).
31
As Schroeder notes, “sin destroys the soul, heart, and body of the sinner” (Schroeder 2007, 102).
32
Cf. Raasch 1969, 301.
33
Pach., Instr. 1. (CSCO 159: 2).
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 267
heart.”34 Shenoute similarly calls for purity of heart, which is achieved
through resisting demonic thoughts. Although he does not explicitly link
heart, body, and community together in a single passage, he frequently
urges their purity on an individual basis. And the heart-body-community
trichotomy is expressed in the Rule of the Master, in a description of key
exercises that are cultivated within the monastery, including the fear of
God and resisting temptation: “The workshop is indeed the monastery, in
which, with the instruments of the heart kept in the enclosure of the body,
it is possible to accomplish the work of the divine art by persevering with
diligent care.”35

III. Canons 1: Monastic Conflict and Shenoute’s Vocation

The first volume of the Canons was written in the midst of a serious conflict
in the monastic federation, in which Shenoute played a key role. The two
lengthy open letters allude to a period of factionalism and dispute, framed
as disobedience to the traditional rules. Despite the intense emotions and
imagery expressed, including numerous warnings of imminent divine
judgment against the community, the details are obscure.36 Shenoute had a
dispute with the federation’s leader, probably named Ebonh, over his lack
of disciplinary resolve, before taking an oath to live separately from the
community.37 His writings from this self-imposed exile describe in vivid
biblical language his revelation of a particularly sinful act, which had been
covered up by an influential monk and his co-conspirators. The sin in
question may have been related to the rules – largely sexual in nature –
quoted by Shenoute at the beginning of the extant letter. Since Ebonh
had accepted the testimony of the chief conspirator, Shenoute proclaimed
God’s condemnation of the perpetrators in a series of “judgement oracles”
that build on imagery from the Hebrew prophets; he warned that the
members of the congregation would share their fate, unless they responded
to the sin and repent.38

34
Pach., Instr. 1:39 (CSCO 159: 16). See the discussion in Chapter 2.
35
RM 6 (de Vogüé: 1.380). Giorgio Agamben cites this passage as evidence that “the precepts that the
monk observes must be assimilated to the rules of an art rather than a legal apparatus” (Agamben
2013, 32).
36
For previous discussions of the events described in Canons 1, see Emmel 2004b, Schroeder 2006,
Schroeder 2007, 24–53.
37
Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR–BN Copte 1302 f. 1): “Behold! I declare that if the Lord shows
me the way, I charge myself not to eat in company until I go to God” (trans. Emmel 2004b, 163).
38
For their identification as “judgement oracles” and a discussion of the intertextual background, see
Schroeder 2006, 84–90, esp. 86–87.
268 Collective Heart-Work
The end of Canons 1 is no longer extant, and thus the precise resolution
of the conflict remains uncertain. However, Shenoute clearly assumed lead-
ership over the monastic federation, while his opponents almost certainly
left the community or were expelled; Ebonh’s fate – and ultimate position
in the conflict – are unknown. Shenoute justified this new position with
a cryptic narrative on divine vocation, in the form of an angelic revelation
experienced in the midst of the dispute. This passage is of fundamental
importance for understanding Shenoute’s mode of self-presentation:  he
portrayed himself as an authoritative leader with a divinely sanctioned
duty to uncover sin and discipline the perpetrators. Already in the first
letter, he states that he revealed the conspiracy “through a command from
God.”39 In the second letter, he describes the turmoil and indecision he
suffered after his appeals for repentance were rejected, leading to his with-
drawal from the community:40
He went away from them, being greatly confused in the thoughts of his
heart; and the counsels of his soul were many. And as he walked along his
way he was uttering bitter words: “Evil things, now, instead of good things.”
And after the man [Shenoute] was distressed in his thoughts that chastised
him on account of the man who is in the pit [Ebonh?] that is very deep,
fearful to look at or to contemplate. And thus he spread himself out over the
road on which he was walking. After he entered his dwelling place he piled
dirt on his head, weeping in that place, uttering all kinds of words in the
presence of God; and after he got up from the ground, he walked about in
a daze, grasping his head, because his thoughts were numerous.
Shenoute, referring to himself in the third person as usual, describes how
the revolt against the leader (the man in the pit) occasioned an intense
mental struggle, in which “numerous” thoughts “chastised” him for
abandoning the leader by leaving the monastery. He also performs vari-
ous prophetic gestures associated with the rhetoric of ekpathy and repen-
tance: lying face down on the road; casting dirt on his head in his cell,
while weeping; and addressing God about the situation.41 At this point, a
divine interlocutor appears:
And behold! A  man came upon him, having been sent by someone else
[God]. He spoke with him with words that are not fitting to tell to anyone,
except that the point of the words that he spoke to him is this:  “Either

39
Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302 f. 3r; text in Emmel, p. 162, n. 29).
40
Shenoute, Canons 1 (Amélineau 1: 451–452).
41
Shenoute, Canons 1 (Amélineau 1: 452–453). The text (or edition) appears corrupt in a few places,
where I have made emendations, denoted by {}.
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 269
bear [the burden] and act according to what has settled upon your heart;
or renounce [the monastic community] until the light comes up and God
is pleased to visit this one [Ebonh].” And the man became distressed in
amazement as a result of the words which he heard; and he was saying: “It is
better for me that I bear [the burden], rather than renounce [the monastic
community]; but it is also better {for me} that I renounce, rather than bear
[the burden], {while} this one [Ebonh] is troubled.” And he was troubled in
heart, namely this other one [Shenoute]; but the wage of workers who are
without guile is great. And thus he did not see rest, nor did he see satisfac-
tion until now, namely the man whose groans are great.
This mysterious man, whom Shenoute does not explicitly identify as a
divine messenger, counsels him to decide between two options: “persever-
ing” in some way, possibly a reference to staying within the community
and assuming the burden of its troubles; or departing from it entirely
(“renouncing”), leaving Ebonh “troubled,” and forcing him to deal with
the situation by himself. This is a most unusual call to leadership:  the
divine messenger essentially forces him to choose, but does not specify the
correct choice. Although Shenoute does not explicitly state his decision,
his description of ongoing emotional anguish suggests that he has taken
up the burden of resolving the conflict.
In the first letter of Canons 1 Shenoute clearly states that this pain is cast
upon him by God due to his own shortcomings:  “Woe to me, because
I have sinned; therefore my heart has become pained.”42 In Canons 4, he
similarly interprets this grief as a punishment for his failure to lead in the
way of his “just fathers:”43
I myself said in the greatness of my stupidity: “The lord saw that I have not
served him according to the standard of the manner [of life] I was in while
my just fathers were present. Therefore he has put all these [pains] into my
heart.”
On the other hand, Shenoute sometimes blames this emotional pain on
his opponents, as will be discussed below in detail. Finally, he implies that
bearing the pain resulting from his disciples’ sin is actually a form of self-
sacrifice: he chooses not to abandon the monastery because of the trouble
that this would cause for “all the faithful siblings.”44
42
Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302 f. 1v–2r; text from Emmel 2004b, 163, n. 34).
I translate his frequently-used expression, mokh nhēt, literally as “heart-pain.”
43
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117); cf. Canons 2 (CSCO 157: 131).
44
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 147). Cf. this Pachomian passage suggesting that broken hearts are a
pure sacrifice to God: “I exhort you, my siblings, to offer your bodies as a living victim, pure, agree-
able to God, not only as a perfume because of the purity of your bodies, but because of the purity
of your hearts, as David says: “A sacrifice to God is a broken heart” (Ps. 51:17).
270 Collective Heart-Work
Regardless of their source, Shenoute further asserts that his “heart-
pains” represent a personalized form of divine paideia, which he believes
will remain with him until death: “It is the Lord who is witness that I
will go to God while this knife of heart-pain is thrust in my heart and my
spirit because I was not able to draw it out before it drew blood.” Even if
God mercifully removes the “knife,” the emotional trauma will remain: “If
the Lord pleases, he will take it from my heart sometime, except that its
entire area, the place from which it was drawn, will remain as a punish-
ment of heart-pain until I go to the Lord.”45 Indeed, at numerous points
in the Canons, Shenoute highlights his own intellectual and emotional
distress as the divine impetus for his impassioned speech. This generally
sets him against the congregation, which he characterizes as joyous. In
fact, in Canons 8, echoing Canons 4, Shenoute claims that he often wants
to rejoice with them, but instead must make them mourn, because they
have made him mourn.46

IV. Canons 4: Love, Hate, and Hearts of Darkness

Canons 4 contains several documents, and opens with a lengthy letter (or
speech), the beginning of which is lost.47 Despite the usual lack of context,
it is clear that the text was composed in the midst of an ongoing dispute,
possibly related to the initial crisis that preceded Shenoute’s assumption of
leadership in the federation.48 Some monks have left the federation, while
others were expelled, for various reasons, the nature of which is often not
entirely clear. Among the estranged disciples was a group of monks who
settled elsewhere.49 Some of them had apparently sought readmission to

45
Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302 f. 2r; text from Emmel 2004b, 163, n. 35).
In The Lord Thundered (Discourses 4), Shenoute notes God’s ability to heal the wounds of sin: “All
Scripture from Genesis down to the last words of the New Testament is calling all of us to listen
to God and not to sin, or, having committed sin, to turn ourselves to Him so that He will heal
our wounds; as it is written, He is ‘the healer of those wounded in their hearts, who binds their
wounds’ ” (Ps 146:3 Budge), GG31 (Young 1993, 144); quoted in Timbie 2011, 626–627.
46
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013:  77); cf. Canons 4 (CSCO 42:  117). Both compositions are
discussed in detail below.
47
A lengthy section published by Leipoldt with the title De eis qui e monasterio discesserunt (CSCO
42: 115–151), currently being edited by Bentley Layton.
48
Thus, Shenoute reminds the congregation of the “great evils which he did contentiously against our
holy ancient father, who went to God not long ago” (CSCO 42: 142). This cannot be Pcol, who
must have died before Shenoute’s predecessor, Ebonh, assumed leadership. While it is possible that
Shenoute would remember Ebonh as a “holy ancient father” (his fate after the events in Canons 1
remains unknown), it is perhaps more likely that he is referring here to Pshoi, director of the smaller
men’s community, who is mentioned as a mediator with the women’s community in Canons 2.
49
Shenoute refers several times to “the place” where they have gathered (CSCO 42: 133 and 134).
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 271
the monastery, but were denied entry by Shenoute.50 Perhaps as a result,
other monks considered departing the community as well.51 Shenoute
mentions two specific individuals: one who was expelled along with his
family; and another, who seems to have left voluntarily, telling outsiders
that Shenoute had “done him violence,” thus preventing him from fulfill-
ing his “vows to God.”52
These same charges seem to have been repeated by other dissatisfied
disciples, who stated that Shenoute prevented them from completing
their vows (erēt),53 as well as from “doing good,”54 and “doing the work of
God.”55 Apparently they were hindered by onerous work assignments, in
the words of one complainant, “deeds beyond my capacity.”56 Some disci-
ples appealed to earlier monastic authorities, rather than Shenoute, asking,
“Didn’t Pachomius go up to heaven and bring down his commandments
so that we might listen to them and do them?”57 The implication is that
by assigning excessive labor or discipline, Shenoute rendered fulfillment of
the monastic vow impossible. These accusations, as reported by Shenoute,
are crucial for reconstructing the nature of the dispute. While he no doubt
quotes selectively, presents the disciples’ words out of context, and some-
times clearly parodies them, for the purposes of rhetorical effectiveness
he must allude to the actual content of his opponents’ grievances. Such
attention to the audience’s concerns is found elsewhere in Late Antique
homilies, and reflects ongoing communication between Shenoute and his
congregation.58
Although it is not possible to reconstruct a detailed account of the con-
flict recorded in Canons 4, the key point under dispute is abundantly clear:
whether the intense emotional bond that connects Shenoute as director
to his disciples consists of love or hatred. His opponents claim that he

50
“There is no sin against me because I have not sent for them, nor is there a judgement upon the
entire holy congregation, because I did not allow those disobedient and ignorant people to enter
and dwell with us again . . .” (CSCO 42: 133).
51
Shenoute mentions: “those who say ‘we will leave this place’ ” Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 144).
52
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141). For hindering vows, cf. CSCO 42: 133, 134, and 142. Shenoute
does not name these individuals, perhaps as a conscious rhetorical strategy to deny them person-
hood after their separation from the monastery.
53
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 133; 134; 142).
54
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 136).
55
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 143).
56
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 143); a similar charge is found in CSCO 42: 134.
57
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 120); at another point, Shenoute repeats a similar question about
“our ancient fathers:” “Did they not go up to heaven and bring down their words so that we might
listen to them?” (CSCO 42: 140).
58
For the case of Augustine’s remarks about fear of death, see Rebillard 2013b.
272 Collective Heart-Work
“hates” them, and “does them violence;”59 conversely, Shenoute asserts that
he loves them, despite their hatred for him.60 In fact, it is his opponents
who hate him, because he punishes their disobedience: “Perhaps we love
those who have died and long for them because they are not with us so that
they might hinder us in our disobedience, our conflicts, our strife, while
we hate those who live with us. . .because they punish us, not to slander,
whisper against, or find fault with those who dispute with us, lest God
grow angry at us and destroy our works, as it is written.”61 He associates
this disobedience with following the “wish of [their] evil heart” rather than
following the community’s rule: “We will stand against you at the tribunal
of Jesus, because you did not allow us to fulfill the wish of our evil heart.”62
Like Theodore, Shenoute emphasizes obedience to monastic laws, arguing
that he has prevented his opponents from overturning “the traditions of
our fathers and the law of the Lord, according to the Scriptures, ‘they have
left behind the covenant (diathēkē) and scattered my law’.”63 Shenoute
warns that if they do not follow the “traditions of our fathers” they will not
share in their heavenly rewards.64
Both Shenoute and his opponents understood their dispute as taking
place on two levels: in addition to the mundane world of monastic politics,
the opposing sides were set against each another in divine court, with God
acting as a judge between them.65 Shenoute invokes this shared under-
standing in a parody of his opponents’ departure: “And this is how they

59
He repeats this charge on multiple occasions: he “hates” them (CSCO 42: 122; 123; 131; 140; 143);
or does them “violence” (CSCO 42:  123; 124; 130; 134; 143). Physical violence is not necessarily
implied: it could be verbal violence or otherwise shameful treatment; Coptic ji enkyons corresponds
with Greek adikia, which has the more general sense of “dishonour.” Kotsifou 2012 notes that
adikoumai is frequently found in papyrus documents, namely petitions seeking redress for public
violence, and that tis one of several words expressing anger in these petitions.
60
Shenoute reverses the charge several times in Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 122, 124, 131).
61
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140). Elsewhere he notes that they are disobedient to the monastic
forefathers and covenant (CSCO 42: 119, 123–125).
62
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 121). Cf. CSCO 42: 126, 131, 134.
63
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 124). Shenoute also notes their failure to follow the “law of the Lord
and the commandments of our fathers that have been left for us.” Elsewhere, he declares: “Woe
unto those who abandon their beginning (archē),” probably another reference to their monastic vow
(CSCO 42: 126).
64
Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 125).
65
For the scene of the divine courtroom, cf. Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 121); for God as the true judge,
Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 129). The invocation of the divine courtroom is also found in Theodore,
Instruction Three, in which he seems to allude to a conflict: “If it is our superiors who give us scandal,
then let us not obey them, and let us trample underfoot any rule established by our fathers. Only
let each of us, great or small, be ready to present a defense to God.” Theodore’s call to “love” rather
than “hate” (“Let us recall the Gospel oath (Mt 5:22) so as not to hate but rather to love a man who
will make known his transgression”) also reflects Shenoute’s rhetoric (Instr. 3:22, CSCO 157: 50).
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 273
departed us, lifting their hands to heaven, saying ‘We will stand against
you at the tribunal of God, and we will receive a judgement with you in
that place, because you did not allow us to establish a law for us in our
undisciplined heart of darkness (hēt enkake) and our own polluted wisdom,
so that we might abandon the law of the Lord and the commandments
of our ancient fathers. . .’ ”66 In contrast to monks who left the congrega-
tion because they ultimately rejected the fear of God, including appeals
to divine judgement, this dispute appears to have resulted from different
interpretations of monastic tradition, despite Shenoute’s reduction of their
complaints to disobedience.
Indeed, Shenoute implies that many in the community agree with his
opponents, or at least do not consider the dispute a serious matter. He
begins the letter by quoting both from Isaiah and Lamentations, present-
ing himself as a prophetic figure suffering in isolation from the commu-
nity, which is foolishly joyful despite harboring sin: “The Lord seized me
and took me to a darkness of groaning and grief and reproach and humili-
ation, and not to a light of rejoicing and comfort and joy.”67 For Shenoute,
this personal turmoil is God’s punishment for his own failures: “Therefore
my heart has become troubled, as it is written, because it is the Lord who
has determined to give me sadness, according to the Scriptures, causing
grief and groans to pierce my innards and my kidneys, like flaming arrows,
in repayment for all my sins.”68 With bitter irony he presents himself not
as the monastery’s shepherd, but the lost sheep.69
As in Canons 1, Shenoute even expresses doubt about his competence
as leader: “Perhaps the Lord was waiting for someone else, capable and
worthy of others obeying him, because he is just like those who have fallen
asleep.”70 While this humble attitude of repentance is intended to serve
as an example for his disciples, there are significant qualifications. On the
one hand, he measures himself against his deceased elders, not current
monks.71 On the other, the portrayal of the community’s virtue is heavily

66
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140).
67
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 116).
68
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117). As we have seen, the “darts of the evil one” (Ephesians 6:16) are
often associated with demonic thoughts in monastic (including Pachomian) sources, but Shenoute
uses darts more widely to represent psychic wounds coming from God (CSCO 42: 116) or his oppo-
nents (CSCO 42: 146), or even from himself, against his opponents (CSCO 42: 120).
69
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117). Cf. CSCO 42: 144, where Shenoute laments that the dispute
has made him a “stranger” to the community.
70
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 40: 118).
71
Shenoute describes himself as unworthy of his monastic elders frequently in Canons 4 (CSCO
42: 117, 118, 128), and even more so his opponents (CSCO 42: 118–119).
274 Collective Heart-Work
ironic, and quickly slips into thinly-veiled rebuke, as he implies that this
joyful attitude is vainglorious: “For yours is all joy, siblings, because you
contemplate very much the saying which is written: ‘Who will boast, while
his heart is pure?’ ”72
In short, Shenoute’s presentation of the conflict is highly ambiguous,
despite his tendencies towards dualistic thought. Many of the uncer-
tainties he addresses, and seeks to resolve, can be framed in terms of the
monastic theory of mind. For example, Shenoute asserts that he does not
mistreat his disciples because he has the fear of God, and is aware of God’s
omniscience: “Am I like the fool who says ‘God does not exist’ (Ps 13:1), or
like those who asked, ‘How has God known?’, or ‘Is there knowledge on
high?’ (Ps 72:11).”73 More controversially, he claims that he has concealed
nothing related to the dispute from his community, testifies that he has
no hatred in his heart towards his opponents, and reveals his intense life
of prayer, especially related to his emotional anguish over the conflict. We
will consider each of these aspects in turn.
First, Shenoute assures his congregation that he is not hiding any infor-
mation related to the dispute, asking rhetorically: “Pray tell, is there any
deed or word hidden from you, siblings, which I have not told you about
those who have left, or whom we have cast out of the congregations of
God, so that (the thought) might fall upon one of your hearts: ‘Perhaps
he indeed did violence against someone’.”74 He even requests that, if he
has sinned against someone unknowingly, the victims report it to him,
through the mediation of two or three respected monks, or even the entire
congregation.75 He then proceeds to give an abbreviated, polemical account
of two monks who have left the congregation; it is hardly a full narrative,
but a parodic recounting of their complaints.76 Shenoute now abandons
his earlier humility, asserting his superior handling of the dispute: “You all
know the good I repaid him for all the complaints he made against me.”77
And rather than deferring judgement to God, he declares his own inno-
cence and that of the congregation: “I am not guilty of sin. . .nor is there
judgement upon the whole congregation.”78

72
Shenoute, Canons 4, echoing Proverbs 20:9 (CSCO 42: 117).
73
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 123). Shenoute’s successor Besa also quotes Psalm 72:11 in response
to those who are unconvinced by God’s omniscience (Frag. 3, CSCO 157: 6).
74
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140).
75
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 139).
76
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140–143).
77
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141).
78
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 133). He offers similar assurances soon thereafter (CSCO 42: 143).
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 275
Second, Shenoute proclaims that he has been completely transparent
when describing his thoughts and emotions to the congregation: “There
is no wickedness or envy or hatred or violence at all in my heart towards
those people who say I  have done them violence; nor have I  hidden in
my heart a profitable word or deed.”79 This is in response to questions
about discernment, such as whether Shenoute’s disciplinary actions were
motivated by obedience to God’s commands or his own personal hatred.
His opponents emphasize the role of personal agency: it is Shenoute who
“curses them;” his “speeches and rules are iniquitous.”80 He also notes how
some monks left the community “sneering in mockery at the word of God,
blaming me: ‘You curse me with parables when you open your mouth to
speak in the name of the Lord through the Scriptures’.”81 Shenoute, for
his part, argues that God is the one who rebukes the disobedient, and
refutes his opponents’ complaints with scriptural quotations.82 Similarly,
an estranged monk complains, “He is the one who has cast me violently
from the congregation,” to which Shenoute replies, “It is not I who have
cast him out, Jesus is the one who has cast him from the congregation.”83
Third, as in Canons 1, Shenoute reveals his communication with Jesus
in response to his anguish about the dispute. The description of his prayer
position recalls the rhetoric of ekpathy, except that he is addressing God,
through his thoughts, rather than speaking to a monastic audience: “Many
times on account of those people, I  have said, while spread out on the
ground, on my face, ‘I entreat you with my whole heart and all my
thoughts’.”84 The content of the prayers is both personal and unusual, evi-
dently without parallel in Pachomian sources. For example, he requests not
to die or be estranged from the congregation until he sees Satan reproved,
and that God instruct his opponents with “grief and moaning and anguish
and irresistible affliction.” He is at pains, however, to explain that this
wish is not vengeful: “Not on my account, because they have thought evil
things concerning me; for truly I am very evil next to you, Lord, so that
I have done violence to myself alone in every act of lawlessness. But I hope

79
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 138–139).
80
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 118, 124, 141).
81
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141).
82
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 119–120).
83
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 141–142); they also claim that “with great hatred you [Shenoute]
uprooted us from the convent” (CSCO 42: 140). Shenoute’s strategy of appealing to God as the
motivation for his disciplinary actions gives them authority, despite his acknowledgement of his
own sin; cf. Augustine’s justification for obedience: “You should obey your superior as you would a
father, with respect to his office, lest you offend God who is in him” (Regula 7:1, Lawless: 100).
84
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 146).
276 Collective Heart-Work
that I have not sinned against these people in this way, as you teach my
heart and my bowels.”85 While addressing God, Shenoute merely expresses
“hope” that he has not done violence to his opponents, but says nothing
to suggest that he actually has. Instead, he implies that they, like himself,
should submit to the divine instruction of grief and related forms of emo-
tional anguish.
Finally, Shenoute claims that the only “violence” he has committed is to
have forced his opponents to repent.86 This is likely a reference to grief and
tears, which he claims earlier to have elicited from them in an unspecified
act of compulsion.87 As in other Canons, he frequently urges repentance, in
order to escape God’s impending judgement.88 In particular, he warns that
additional monks will be expelled, unless they repent: “If there are others
among us who have not yet washed their heart of the evil of the serpent
Satan, I bear witness to those people in the presence of the Lord that if they
do not repent (metanoei), they will be estranged from the congregations
of our fathers . . .”89 In short, just as Shenoute has revealed his heart to the
disciples, and proclaimed himself innocent of his opponents’ charges but
in need of repentance, the other monks must follow by expelling Satan
from their hearts.
A group of three letters at the end of Canons 4, written by Shenoute
to the head of the women’s community, also approaches questions of
love and hatred.90 The leader has refused to report various sins within her
community to Shenoute, who had received a letter from another female
monastic accusing some of her colleagues. Later, when the head of the
women’s monastery plans to practice corporal punishment in response to
another conflict, Shenoute intervenes, arguing that he (and his representa-
tive) must approve of the discipline and administer it. In this second letter,
he warns them that God will judge them for disobeying the canons and
instead following demonic counsels:91
Now, if your heart is troubled because I have said these words to you, know
also that it is with a very troubled heart that I have said them. And if you in

85
Shenoute, Canons 4.
86
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 144).
87
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 117). It may also refer to the assignment of unusually strenuous acts
of asceticism: cf. Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 144).
88
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 126–127). The “papyri” may refer to earlier writings collected in
the Canons (on which see below), but Shenoute also lists various examples of biblical sinners whom
God destroys because they do not repent (CSCO 42: 132–133).
89
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 129).
90
Described in Krawiec 2002 and Layton 2011.
91
Shenoute, Canons 4 (Young 1993: 93–94, trans. Layton 2011: 339).
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 277
your domain want your heart to be at rest, then make our heart, too, be at
rest in our domain and tell us straightforwardly about everything that hap-
pens in your domain. And the Lord will forgive us and dwell with us, for we
will not have forgotten one another through Satan’s corruption.
Shenoute here describes the rhetoric of ekpathy: after becoming angry at
their disobedience, he is troubled in his heart because of the responsibility
to warn them of God’s impending condemnation. When he does so, they,
too, are disturbed. The solution, he claims, is to inform him of any sin that
occurs in the women’s monastery: “If you don’t tell us about the things that
are in your heart as we tell you about the things that are in our heart, and
if you don’t tell us about the things that have happened in your domain as
we tell you about everything that has happened in our domain – then may
God be with you!”92 This thinly-veiled threat builds on an implicit associa-
tion between the heart, the deeds of individuals, and the physical space of
the community: in particular, secret sins occur within the monastery and
are hidden within individual hearts; they must be exposed to monastic
leaders to maintain the community’s purity. Failing to reveal this sin, on
the other hand, will produce anxiety and hostility:93
And from this day forward, if you in your domain hide any bad deed from
us we shall feel great hostility towards you in our heart. And we – either
ourselves or yourselves – shall spend all our time feeling anxious about one
another like strangers. And what’s the use of our ever having felt anxious
about you for any reason, and of your having felt anxious about us for
any reason? But from this day forward, if you tell us about every bad deed
that happens in your domain we shall feel great peace towards you in our
heart. And we shall spend all our time feeling anxious about one another
like siblings and like fellow members of one another [Rom. 12:5], ourselves
together with yourselves.
Thus, for Shenoute, the mutual manifestation of thoughts is essential for
maintaining “great peace” – at least in his heart. This is not a peace without
anxiety, but involves the solicitous care for siblings. The beatings Shenoute
assigns as punishment for certain nuns at the end of the letter is presented
as a form of familial love, just as in the lengthy speech at the beginning of
Canons 4: “It’s not because we hate those whom we in our domain instruct
with rebukes and blows. Never! Rather it’s because of the love we feel for
them, that we instruct them thoroughly, according to the Scriptures.”94

92
Shenoute, Canons 4 (Young 1993: 98, trans. Layton 2011: 340–341).
93
Shenoute, Canons 4 (Young 1993: 96–97, trans. Layton 2011: 340).
94
Shenoute, Canons 4 (Young 1993: 97–98; trans. Layton 2011: 340).
278 Collective Heart-Work
While in Canons 4 Shenoute is primarily concerned with effective sur-
veillance, and especially reporting, elsewhere in his corpus he grapples with
the question of clairvoyance.95 In contrast to the numerous revelations
about sinful thoughts and deeds attributed to Pachomius and Theodore
in the biographical tradition, Shenoute explicitly denies that he is aware of
hidden sin: “So therefore, those who will say such things to me (‘I know
those who sin secretly in these congregations’), their blood and their judg-
ment is upon their head. For they said that which they did not ever hear
me say.”96
Other monks suggest that Shenoute prays to God and asks him to reveal
the identity of sinners; Shenoute protests that he is merely “handing over”
the sinners to God.97 He explicitly states that he is not aware of hidden
sin, although multiple acts of clairvoyance are depicted in his later Life.98
Sala writes: “In Shenoute’s argument, the sinners can remain undetected
because God has already punished them, turning his caring gaze away
from them . . . . The secret sinners are portrayed as being located beyond
the reach of grace, in Hell – the blind spot of divine grace.”99 At the same
time, this is a subtle and effective rhetorical stance: Shenoute’s claim that it
is God who reveals the sinners, through his person, is very close to an asser-
tion of clairvoyance. In effect, it attributes to Shenoute the prerogative to
“unmask” certain people, while warning those who have not been desig-
nated for punishment that they too will be condemned, unless they repent.

V. Canons 8: Hidden Sin, Darkened Hearts, and

Discernment
Like other Canons, volume 8 contains a collection of epistles and speeches,
composed relatively late in Shenoute’s career.100 I will focus on the first work
of the volume, So Listen, because it is relatively long, nearly complete (only

95
For a discussion of Shenoute and clairvoyance, see Wees 2009 and Sala 2011, 370–437.
96
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 104). The same claims are at issue in the next letter: Canons 8
(Boud’hors 2013: 128–129; 135).
97
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 136–137).
98
For the relevant passages, see Sala 2011, 373, n. 7. This corresponds more generally to Shenoute’s
strategy of disclaiming the charisms often associated with “holy men,” as astutely demonstrated in
Brakke 2007. In the case of clairvoyance, Shenoute may have been particularly cautious because
of the controversy surrounding Pachomius’s claim to this gift, for which see, most recently,
Jenott 2013b.
99
Sala 2011, 432.
100
For an overview of its contents, see Emmel 2004a: 2.593–594. Canons 8 is now available in the
magisterial critical edition of Anne Boud’hors (Boud’hors 2013), which is based especially on XO
(and in particular, IFAO Copte 2), the largest surviving manuscript of Shenoute’s works.
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 279
the beginning and thirteen manuscript pages in the middle are missing),
and focuses on discernment and revelation. As in Canons 4, Shenoute pro-
vides few details about the background conflict, which apparently reached
a point of crisis when he refused to celebrate the Eucharist due to the pres-
ence of “impure people,” committing “pernicious acts:” “On the contrary,
how will it not be difficult for that one [Shenoute] to whom people have
been entrusted, to associate with impure people, while they commit pesti-
lent acts among themselves, or to raise up Eucharistic offerings with them,
while their blood and their judgement is upon him?”101 Shenoute further
suggests that he cannot associate with them, “until he places the judge-
ment upon their head and the blood upon the middle of his head,” because
of his oath.102 He emphasizes (somewhat defensively) that pursuing sinners
within the congregation brings him no pleasure, while affirming that he is
constantly “ready to vow: ‘I desire to die, or that God visit me, rather than
hear that someone has committed pestilent deeds among you (i.e., the
monastic congregation)’.”103
Despite (or perhaps because of ) this death wish, Shenoute declares that
he is prepared to expel sinners, as he has so often done in the past: “Isn’t
it going to happen this time, as it frequently does to you, congregation,
and all the other days that the one who speaks to you will spend while
alive: through disturbances, and thrown vestments, and rough acts? But
those who have been revealed to him committing pestilent acts within you,
he will make foreign to you, without being disturbed, and without cry-
ing.”104 In other words, although the presence of sin causes Shenoute emo-
tional anguish, its elimination through expulsion does not. As in Canons
4, the offenders seem to have disparaged the Pachomian tradition, which
Shenoute quoted in reference to hidden sin: “You mock the saying which
our fathers, of whom you are not worthy, have spoken: ‘Do not speak in
obscurity’.” Shenoute describes their sinfulness as stemming from “a dis-
obedient heart, dark to you” (Ro 1:21).105 He thus implies that his opponent
is unable to recognize the presence of Satan in his heart.
Shenoute soon provides more precise information about the dispute,
which is intimately connected to prayer, revelation, and discernment. The
unnamed monastic adversary seems to have appealed to visions of Jesus in

101
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 78).
102
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 79).
103
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 80).
104
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 79).
105
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 80).
280 Collective Heart-Work
order to justify the controversial views he held with respect to disciplining
monastic children. Shenoute reproduces his alleged statements, which he
identifies as advice placed in his heart by Satan; although these are quoted
out of context, and no doubt selectively, they offer the only existing hints
at the nature of the dispute:106
Are you going to say, braggart, while looking up to heaven or to the air, “I
see Jesus,” or “I speak with him?” Why didn’t you see Satan in your heart,
advising you about all the bad things you’re saying: “If I were the master
of these little kids, I would make them go out and eat with a rod.” And “If
only they were all old enough to labor through fasting and asceticism!” And
“If they had really understood what sin is!” And all the other destructive
sayings: “I will go to visit my family.” And “If I’m not sent to them [my
family], I will go in secret and they [the monastic elders] will not discover
where I am.” Don’t you know that you will be sent to them in anger, as you
are cast out from this place, you and those about whom you’ve said “they
are little children,” while you encourage them, through your own choice, to
eat as they desire, until they die. Thus their blood will be upon your head.
In other words, the “braggart” apparently encouraged young children
to break their fast, because he did not consider them to be old enough
for strenuous asceticism. Some of the children evidently did, an act that,
according to Shenoute, has threatened their salvation. He once again
attacks the claim of heavenly visions:107
The saying which you said, “I gaze up to heaven, to Jesus,” didn’t you say it
to me in person, in the error of your heart, before you entered this place?
So no one will think that you didn’t say it, or that those who listen to you
as you recount that which is revealed to you or that which is manifested to
you by the demons are lying.
Interestingly, it seems that Shenoute’s opponent at one point denied hav-
ing recounted his revelations to others. But during his entrance interview
he apparently discussed his habit of contemplative prayer with Shenoute,
who nonetheless admitted him to the monastic community.108 Thus his
visions became problematic only when he attempted to use them to justify
controversial disciplinary practices. This led to Shenoute’s condemnation
of him for lacking discernment:109

106
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 91–92).
107
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 92).
108
Elsewhere he refers to his optimism about the federation before joining:  “Before coming here,
I thought great things happened here.”
109
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 92–93).
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 281
Nor do you even see the demons, much less Jesus. But it is your soul which
is air for them, as they fly in it and reside in it, because you serve their false
words through your disobedient and ignorant heart, as you go and come
with each wind. And if you say this without seeing anything or when noth-
ing has been revealed to you, then when the demon reveals himself to you,
taking the form of an angel of light, although he is dark, how many times
will you prostrate yourself and worship it, as you fall at your feet, because
you do not have the judgement to discern whether spirits come from God
or from Satan.
Shenoute thus asserts that the offending monk is himself at fault, and in
particular his “disobedient and ignorant heart,” which shifts frequently
like the wind, allowing demons to easily infest his soul. He predicts that
these demons will eventually trick his opponent into worshipping them,
perhaps hinting at a more obvious public embarrassment for the offending
monk. These remarks apparently followed a dispute about visualization
practices during prayer:110
You have said, yourself, “I gaze up to Jesus in heaven, with his angels,” when
you are found in the places to which you withdraw yourself, not to pray, but
to meditate on some vanities, in order to talk about them. Thus you said to
some people, “This is a small part that I’m telling you, namely that I pray
until I see the face of Christ.” And also, “Don’t think that I am a nobody in
this respect [i.e., visions] compared to you.” Thus also your mouth, which
is full of blasphemies, said: “I am more pure than the sanctuary of God.”
In contrast to the monk’s assertion of purity, it appears that Shenoute has
called him a “prostituted soul,” a reference to Ez 16:26. Although the latter
protests that this is an insult to the soul as an “image of God,” Shenoute
counters that it has been destroyed through porneia.111 He offers a vivid
image of the heart’s copulation with demons through its thoughts:112
Therefore, prostitute – which is your soul – listen to the word of the Lord,
because you have scattered your money (Ez 15:35–36). And all the other
words that the Old Testament speaks like this in its anger to souls which
prostitute away from God and his true teaching, at all times, which is: you

110
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 94).
111
On the soul as prostitute in the Exegesis of the Soul, see Lundhaug 2010, 82–90, who shows that “its
porneia imagery does not refer primarily to bodily prostitution or fornication, but rather, by way
of metaphor, to the soul’s relationship to the material world, actual sexuality immorality being one
of its bodily manifestations” (85); see now Lundhaug 2017, for parallels with Canons 8. Shenoute
elsewhere declares that the monastery itself is a prostitute, just as “the sins of Israel, Jerusalem,
or other nations, in the prophetic books of the Bible, are represented by the sin of fornication or
porneia” (Schroeder 2006, 83).
112
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 100).
282 Collective Heart-Work
have spread your legs before everyone who passes by (Ez 16:25), which is: the
soul of your kind of person, and those who are polluted in every respect, has
spread its thoughts and deliberations out before the demons, so that they
might pollute it with their acts of wickedness and their defilements and
their acts of disobedience. They [the demons] have fornicated with it [the
soul] in their false counsels, which are like the flesh of donkeys and horses,
according to the words of the prophet (Ez 23:20).
Shenoute declares that, through this fornication, the offending monk has
become a “son of the devil” (citing Jn 8:44).
In this text, Shenoute seeks not only general repentance, but also the
expulsion of certain monks  – whether he has already identified specific
individuals is uncertain.113 In a relatively obscure but significant passage,
he specifically demands that the community remove the sinners from their
midst:114
According to the command of the one whose word is true [Jesus?], or those
whose word is true [monastic elders?], “Cast them out, cast them out, like
sheep; do not be weak, do not be ashamed to cast them out:” It is I who am
speaking to you, “Cast them out,” it is you who are prepared for this deed,
according to the things which are in the papyri which are written from the
beginning [of the monastery].
Shenoute seems to be quoting a scriptural or monastic tradition, which
is difficult to identify. The reference is similar to Matthew 10:16, although
in that case Jesus is commanding his disciples to go out and preach, not
expelling them from his fellowship because of sin. He also invokes “the
papyri which are written from the beginning” as a source of authority: the
monks are encouraged to imagine their present situation as a re-enactment
of the events recorded in them. More specifically, Shenoute is encouraging
them to expel the sinners from the community, asserting that his disciples
are fully prepared to do so.

VI. The Canons and Ritual Repentance

Shenoute provides a clue as to the identity of these papyri in an exten-
sive scribal note preserved at the end of the first volume of the Canons:115
“In the twenty-sixth year of our first father who has fallen asleep, which

113
In the following text in Canons 8, Shenoute refers to eleven monks who were recently expelled,
possibly because of their involvement in this controversy.
114
Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 90).
115
Canons 1 (Munier 1916: 115). See also the translation and discussion in Emmel 2004b, 2.562–564.
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 283
is also the sixteenth year of our other father who has fallen asleep after
him, we transcribed all of the things written in the papyri (chartēs) which
were established at this time, into this book.” He further asserts that this
new book is intimately connected to previous books “written for us.”116
Shenoute orders that his successors keep the book and ensure that it is read
aloud at the four annual meetings, serving as a “witness.”117 The purpose
of reading the volume is to provoke repentance in the audience, and thus
ensure their salvation.118 In the following section, I explore various other
references to these “papyri” throughout the Canons, which Shenoute cites
as evidence for his ongoing anxiety and emotional pain as a result of sin in
the community, as well as for the necessity of expulsion and the power of
repentance. Moreover, I argue that the act of reading Shenoute’s growing
corpus of Canons aloud at the annual meetings constituted the focal point
of an extended ritual of collective repentance.119
Shenoute often notes that the current dispute is simply a reprisal of
earlier monastic conflicts. Thus in Canons 4 he asserts that the “papyri that
are written from the beginning” anticipate the events he describes: hidden
sin within the monastery, to be followed by the departure or expulsion of
the perpetrators:120
If you read the papyri which are written from the beginning, you will find
in them every deed which is happening now, including those who are sin-
ning or who will sin among us, in secret; and including those who have left,
or will leave us, as they grumble and complain for no reason; and including
those whom God has cast out, or whom he will cast out, on account of the
evil deeds which they have done, or which they will do, among us in our
congregations in these times now, and even more in previous times.
Thus the expulsion or voluntary departure of sinners is nothing new for
Shenoute – he refers to past cases as additional evidence that the disciples

116
“Let he who has not understood everything written in it [this book] know it from all the words in
the books that are written for us” (Canons 1, Munier 1916: 115–116). This is presumably a reference
to the writings of Shenoute’s predecessors, including rule books, on which see Layton 2014, 36–38.
117
“So let this book, in which are written things that are a witness to all the other words and deeds
which are a witness to all the words and deeds which are in this book, be in the hand of the leader
of these congregations, at all times, so that he might consider it, in order not to forget it and be
neglectful that he read them in the four times of the year [established]” (Shenoute, Canons 1,
Munier 1916: 116).
118
“Those who do not want to repent of their evil deeds after they listen to all the words which are in
this book will be ashamed in front of those who are able to go down from heaven onto earth, and
also of going back up to heaven; but the fire of Gehenna will inherit them” (Shenoute, Canons 1,
Munier 1916: 115–116).
119
See also Dilley 2017.
120
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 126).
284 Collective Heart-Work
should obey his instructions for resolving the conflict. And he follows this
reference to the “papyri” with an exhortation to the disciples to repent or
else face divine punishment.
In both Canons 4 and 5, Shenoute also cites the papyri as evidence that
it is God, not himself, who has expelled the sinful monks. While covering
an extensive list of monastic regulations in Canons 5, he refers to “many
congregations who defile themselves, not on account of those who practice
righteousness in them, but because of those who reside with them, who do
lawlessness.” Shenoute explains that the “papyri written from the begin-
ning” demonstrate that he serves as the intermediary of divine vengeance.121
The whole blame of the word of God blames those congregations in part
[i.e., blames the sinners] with rebuke, and also towards us, and also towards
the whole world. You will also find this other matter written in the papyri
that are written from the beginning, namely: In which way or Who is it who
has advised this one who writes [Shenoute], so that he says all these things
and all these deeds which are written in those papyri. Even if no one knows,
yet you will also find it written in them, as the word of God condemns those
who flee, [because] they were not sent by God, and as it blesses those who
preach good things, because the Lord sent them.
Shenoute refers to a general challenge to his authority, as mediated
through his writings: “From where does this one who writes speak these
words and these deeds?”122 Notably, he does not appeal directly to Scripture
(as he so often does), but rather to his own earlier writings, and the disci-
plinary actions they record, as evidence of his divine inspiration.
In Canons 6, Shenoute describes a public reading of “the epistle that we
wrote at the beginning,” perhaps a reference to Canons 1:123
After we read the epistle that we wrote at the beginning to our fellow con-
gregations [literally, “friendly parts”] – these concerning whom we are also
now troubled in heart – we remembered the things which happened to us,
through the enemy, on account of our closed hearts; and we remembered
how God acted for us, until he plucked us from the demonic depths and
impiety which were hard upon us.
Shenoute is already in emotional anguish due to the present conflict, and
the reading of his earlier letter is meant to cause his audience to become
aware of the widespread existence of sin within their community. As a

121
Shenoute, Canons 5 (CSCO 73: 64). Note the conflation, here as elsewhere in the Canons, of the
written word with the spoken word, and in this case with Shenoute’s actions as well.
122
Shenoute, Canons 5.
123
Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau 2: 302).
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 285
central figure in both the past and the present dramas, he must ask the
disciple to stop reading because the memory of these past events provokes
unbearable pain:124
The entire affliction that has come upon him in that night, as he entreated
the one who read, “enough my brother, enough my son.” Is it not enough
that this one [Shenoute] remember the affliction and compulsion which
touched him from the first in the midst of those people, after he came to
them? Is it not they who saw his wretchedness, in that place, in that time,
how he was loosened up? He was completely crushed, cast down and crying
in that place, namely the altar of God, which they polluted at that time.
Although Shenoute does not specify the nature of the previous affliction,
he has just described in Canons 6 a similar act of repentance – rolling on
the ground in tears – that he performed as a result of the current conflict.125
He chastizes his current audience for not asking the proper questions
regarding his own desperate words and actions, which are also described in
“the papyri that are written for us:”126
For some congregations, in which a man has torn his garments very many
times, while he is beating his face with force and he falls, stricken, upon the
ground, because he cannot stand on account his heart, troubled by works of
evil, it is difficult for God to forgive the things which they have done, man
or woman, in those congregations. Is it [these actions] not a testimony for
them? And if no one has asked why he tore his garments or why he went
out and fell upon his face very many times, isn’t God going to ask? And the
words and the deeds which are written in the papyri that are written for us,
do they not inform those who listen to them, why [he does these things]?
Do they not seek those who pay attention to them well? Will they not judge
us and will they not condemn us, on account of all those things?
Shenoute seems to despair that his disciples do not listen attentively to his
earlier works or understand them, nor do they comprehend the reason for
his current desperation. His concern is somewhat surprising, given that the
various monastic disputes across the nine volumes of the Canons all con-
cern Shenoute’s knowledge of sin within the community, and the threat of
divine judgement, which he seeks to communicate to his audience.

124
Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau 2: 302–303).
125
Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau 2: 298–300). See the discussion of this passage in Chapter 3.
Shenoute’s claim to have been “crushed” is likely a reference to Jeremiah 23:9, which he quotes at
the beginning of a writing in Canons 8: “My heart is crushed within me, all my bones have shaken,
I have become like a broken man, like a man who is drunk on wine, in the presence of the Lord,
and in the presence of the greatness of the beauty of his glory. For the land is filled with adulterers,
and the country is stricken with grief in the presence of these” (Boud’hors 2013: 113).
126
Shenoute, Canons 6 (Amélineau 2: 317).
286 Collective Heart-Work
Shenoute’s strategy of reading his own writings as a practice of remem-
brance and repentance is most fully articulated in Canons 3, composed near
the end of his life.127 In Canons 6, Shenoute complains that his disciples
never asked questions about his writings, and in particular the reasons for
his distress; in Canons 3, he incorporates questions they should have asked
into an imagined liturgy to be instituted after his death.128 After a series
of blessings and curses, he concludes by blessing all those who will order
the public reading of “that book,” and “this epistle,” and cursing the ones
who will hinder its recitation.129 He also commands that they keep his torn
robes, which he ripped many times while in emotional pain, to be brought
out for the ceremony. All those listening to the recitation of the Canons
will say: “What are these torn garments, and all these written words, and
all these curses?” There follows a lengthy responsory, as in the conclusion
of Theodore’s encomium to Pachomius (here are the key sections):
And they will say: “In that time the Lord was very angry with us, in a great
wrath; and he turned his face from us in great anger, so that he might bring
upon us great curses, and evil afflictions, and difficult trials, because we
sinned against him, while Satan came upon us like a lion, tearing, roaring;
and he beat those who are ours.”
And they will also say, “After we repented in great affliction, in hunger
and thirst and weeping and tears, for [our] hypocrisy, God turned his face
{towards} us, and he moderated his anger, so as not to punish us with great
and evil trials. And he removed the whole curse from us, and he had mercy
on us with a great mercy, and he blessed us with a great blessing, while he
brought his hand upon us with a rod, compassionately, as he boiled us into
purity, as it is written: ‘I will bring my hand upon you [monastic congrega-
tion] and I will boil you into purity’, and also he removed from our midst
evil people and sinners without parallel, as it is written: ‘I will destroy those
who are disobedient, and I will remove all the lawless from you, with all the
proud. And I will establish for you a judge, at first; and a counselor, at last’.”
And they will say, “This is how God acted towards us, because we are his
servants, and how the Lord taught us mercifully, and rebuked us compas-
sionately, because we are his children, and he is our father.”

127
Emmel notes: “References throughout Canons 3 indicate that it is a collection of letters from very
late in Shenoute’s life, probably his last five years, for at one point he indicates that he has ‘been
living in the desert . . . more than a hundred years’ ” (YA 295) (Emmel 2004a, 2.556; for a general
description of its contents, see 2.570–573).
128
This section is given the title Testamentum Sinuthii by Leipoldt (CSCO 73: 204), but this is mis-
leading: the Canons as a corpus comprise Shenoute’s testament, as he orders that they are to be read
in their entirety as part of the ceremony.
129
Shenoute, Canons 3 (CSCO 73: 205–206).
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 287
In short, Shenoute’s imagined post-mortem ceremony reprises the major
themes of the Canons, which he orders to be recited in front of his torn
garment. His knowledge of the monastery’s sin, and subsequent emotional
anguish, must both be shared with the rest of the community, resulting
in group repentance and the expulsion of sinners. Despite Shenoute’s fre-
quent hesitation to claim the powers of the holy man, including clair-
voyance, he leaves the Canons as a textual relic, alongside his ripped
monastic vestments, bearing witness to the need for collective discipline
and repentance.130
Although Shenoute imagined that this ritual would take place after his
death, his first volume of Canons, and probably others, were read alongside
the rulebook during the four annual meetings. While we cannot recover
the precise context of the speeches and public readings of letters attested
in the other eight volumes, their message of repentance perfectly fits these
collective gatherings devoted to personal scrutiny of obedience to the rule.
Theodore’s traditional mode of speaking to the assembled Koinonia in the
Great Coptic Life, with his rebuke bringing the majority of the audience to
tears, also suggest the rhetorical and ritual dynamics of delivering or read-
ing the Canons. Another ritual of collective repentance is attested in the
Life of Phib, the associate of Apa Apollo, the founder of a monastic com-
munity at Bawit in Middle Egypt. Every year, Apa Phib, Apollo’s associate,
is commemorated on the day of his death, in which forgiveness of sins is
granted to all who prostrate themselves and repent.131
Several passages from the Great Coptic Life of Pachomius are particu-
larly evocative of the Canons in their descriptions of the unmasking and
punishment of sin – including through expulsion – followed by a justifica-
tion of this process to the congregation. In one anecdote, when Pachomius
visits Tabennesi, he perceives that a monk there has sinned. After praying
to God, an angel symbolically “executes” this brother, whom Pachomius
then expels. Subsequently, he warns the community of the danger they
had faced: “He sat down and spoke with the brothers through the word of
God. He frightened them with the negligence of those whom he had cast
out, crying very hard, with many tears, because of the wretchedness that
had overtaken them because of the pollutions they had done night and
day in the presence of God. Then he got up and prayed with all of them,

130
A collective repentance ceremony is also attested for Middle Egyptian monasticism:  see
Vivian 1999b.
131
Evidence for this ritual and its celebration in various Egyptian communities is discussed in
Vivian 1999.
288 Collective Heart-Work
and each one went back to his house, calmly meditating on the word of
God.”132
In another instance, Pachomius identifies a brother who had consented
to perform an unspecified action suggested by the devil. He summons the
wayward disciple before the community and questions him, leading to a
confession followed by expulsion from the monastery.133 A similar proce-
dure of public interrogation is ascribed to Theodore. In this instance, the
monks do not confess their sin, but are still expelled. Theodore explains
to the congregation that he had fulfilled his duty as a monastic leader by
warning them that they would receive “blows” because of their sins, and
had no other choice in the face of their intransigence.134 The delivery of a
public rebuke, followed by expulsion, is also formalized in the Rule of the
Master. The abbot addresses the sinner in front of the community, accus-
ing him of imitating Judas and following the devil; the scene of divine
judgement is evoked, in which the abbot will be vindicated against his
opponents.135
In addition to the basic narrative of sin, expulsion, and repentance,
these stories share key themes with the Canons: the courtroom imagery;
the leader’s prayer to God, in the midst of tears for the many sins commit-
ted within the community; and the emphasis on instilling the fear of God.
Shenoute frequently presents himself as a mediator of God’s judgement,
most explicitly by quoting scriptural verses. This practice, especially when
combined with his striking postures of mourning, recalls Janice Boddy’s
interpretation of spirit possession as a dramatic, public performance, a
“rendering of embodied knowledge graspable by others through perfor-
mance and conversation.”136 Her understanding of possession accords well
with Victor Turner’s model of ritual as a response to social drama, such
as monastic conflict.137 Drawing on these two approaches, the rituals of
collective repentance alluded to in the Canons resemble, in some respects,
the mechanisms of catharsis. Shenoute, employing the rhetoric of ekpathy,

132
V. Pach. SBo 108 (CSCO 107:  150–151). On expulsion in the Pachomian tradition, see Ruppert
1971, 166–183; Rousseau 1986, 96–97, who argues that it was only used infrequently, and Brakke
2006, 89.
133
V. Pach. SBo 107; Cf. V. Pach. SBo 106. Similarly, Shenoute recounts how he summoned an
opponent (who refuses to come) for questioning before the council of elders (Canons 4; CSCO
42: 142–143).
134
V. Pach. SBo 149; see the discussion of this passage in Chapter 4. According to V. Pach. SBo 195,
Theodore used expulsion as part of the care of souls in the case of negligent monks who threatened
the salvation of other disciples.
135
RM 13.
136
Boddy 1994, 426.
137
Turner 1968 and 1980.
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 289
seeks to provoke grief in his audience, both through references to the pres-
ent conflict, and the recitation of earlier Canons describing similar, painful
instances of sin in the community. The resulting increase in “heart-pain”
leads to tears of repentance in his audience.
Yet the practice of communal repentance did not necessarily produce
a cathartic release of “heart-pain.” Indeed, Shenoute emphasized that his
grief is a scar from earlier wounds that will not disappear until death. Nor
does Turner argue that rituals in response to social drama diffuse tension
through the mechanism of catharsis; instead of increasing such emotions
in order to purge them, he suggests that the community’s heightened ten-
sion is redirected.138 Thus, in the Canons, the focus of the purge is different:
the grief is channeled into righteous anger at the sinners, who are expelled
from the monastery, along with their impurity. At the level of the com-
munity (the macrocosm), unrepentant sinners must be expelled, other-
wise their pollution will spread throughout the group. For those disciples
who remain, there is a different kind of purge: they are to remove Satanic
temptations from their hearts, including those identified by Shenoute in
his speeches. The heart thus functions as a microcosm that the monks
must maintain pure by avoiding sinful thoughts, just as they are expected
to uphold the purity of their bodies (the mesocosm) by avoiding sinful
behavior.
From this perspective, Shenoute’s rhetoric of ekpathy persuades the
community by “banishing” the opinions and thoughts of the expelled
monks. Indeed, he identifies complaints spoken against him in the monas-
tery with evil thoughts: in Canons 4, his opponents depart “saying in their
evil thoughts of the heart: ‘We were not allowed to do the will of God is
this place’.”139 Shenoute forbids his opponents to return, lest they spread
these wicked thoughts to others, as suggested by the following complaint
against him: “We will be judged with you in the presence of God, because
you did not allow us to enter the congregation, so that we might dwell
there, to destroy other (monks) with corruptions of the heart’.”140 Besa
similarly condemns monks:

138
Turner 1968, 268. Shenoute does, however, allude to extended periods characterised by “peace”
and “love,” as in this passage from Canons 3: “Siblings, if you are at peace with one another, in
love, from last year until today, then it is possible, through God, to remain in this way until each
of you goes to the Lord” (Young 2001). “Last year” may refer to a previous ritual of collective
repentance.
139
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 134).
140
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 121).
290 Collective Heart-Work
who turn from good to evil . . . and from all the righteousness of God to law-
lessness, deceit, slander, and whispering like the snake, destroying the hearts
of those who will encounter them, deceiving those who go about with a
heart similar to them, in its whispers and slanders, speaking to one another,
saying what is not the case, or not having revealed what is the case.141
Conversely, obedient disciples share “a single heart in the teaching of the
Scriptures,”142 and “a single heart with the laws of the Lord.”143
In short, bad thoughts were easily transferable among disciples through
illicit speech, resulting in the spread of cognitive pollution within the
monastic body; similarly, assenting to demonic suggestions was figured as
cognitive fornication. Shenoute’s expulsion of individual monks was thus
also a purging of their corrupted minds from the community, at the same
time as he publicly revealed and refuted their arguments for the benefit
of the disciples who remained. The resulting purified monastic body thus
shared a single heart, united by the “teaching of the Scriptures.”144

VII. Conclusion
As Shenoute wrote and assembled the Canons over his long career, which
spanned several decades, he noted that the monastic conflicts he was
chronicling in papyri often repeated themselves. In the first volume, he
recorded his own role in the unmasking of grave sin, as well as his own
angelic commission narrative, which is marked by uncertainty in his deci-
sion to lead the community. The affair left him with permanent trauma,
a wound in his heart because of his deficiencies: “If the Lord pleases, he
will take it from my heart sometime, except that its entire area, the place
from which it was drawn, will remain as a punishment of heart-pain until
I go to the Lord.”145 In subsequent texts of the Canons, Shenoute revisits
his personal insecurities as a leader, revealing his emotional distress to the
congregation, including his private entreaties to God. At the same time, he

141
Besa, Frag. 12 (CSCO 157: 80).
142
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 135).
143
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 139). Cf. Hors., Ep. 3:2, an invitation to one of the Koinonia’s
annual meetings, which urges the monks to “think this single thought to one another,” quoting
Romans 12 (Coptic text unpublished; trans. Veilleux 1982, 158).
144
Shenoute’s simultaneous revelation and regulation of his own heart and those of his disciples recalls
anthropologist Maurice Bloch’s contention that “a central implication of ToM [Theory of Mind] is that
all social relationships imply interpenetration and, therefore, the arbitrariness of boundaries within the
social fabric applies not just to people who are related, but between all human beings who are in con-
tact” (Bloch 2007). Cf. the analysis of socially distributed cognition in Cassian by Chin 2013.
145
Shenoute, Canons 1, unpublished (FR BN Copte 1302 f. 2r; text from Emmel 2004b, 163, n. 35).
 Shenoute and the Heart of Darkness 291
mixes statements of personal humility with assertive claims to follow the
divine will, in cursing his opponents through Scripture and expelling them
from the congregation. He thus follows the “fusion” model of possession,
switching quickly between humble admissions of human weakness and
confident assertions of divine inspiration.
And just as Shenoute revealed his own self-doubt to the congregation,
he also confidently discerned the inner state of his opponents, even while
denying clairvoyance regarding their evil deeds. Thus in Canons 4 he speaks
generally of their disobedience to “the law of the Lord and the command-
ments of our ancient fathers,” as manifest in their “heart of darkness (hēt
e
nkake)” and “polluted wisdom.”146 And in Canons 8 Shenoute contests his
opponent’s claim to divine revelation – associated with visualization prac-
tices during prayer – instead proclaiming “a disobedient heart, dark to you”
(Ro 1:21), which has been invaded by demons.147 In short, while Shenoute
maintains a humble profile, there is a clear distinction between his own
“heart-pain,” a grief over the sins of the community he feels unworthy to
lead; and the demonic thoughts, words and deeds of his opponents. There
is a usual pattern of conflict and expulsion of sinners, preventing their
pollution of the community, through, among other things, the spread of
evil thoughts and opinions. Shenoute himself noted that this pattern was
evident in “the papyri,” namely his own Canons, which were read at the
annual ceremony. In the third volume, he presents this event as a collective
ritual of repentance, in which the monks who remain in the community
follow Shenoute in humbly re-committing to follow its rules, in contrast
to the expelled sinners’ disobedient “heart of darkness.”

146
Shenoute, Canons 4 (CSCO 42: 140).
147
Shenoute, Canons 8 (Boud’hors 2013: 80).
 Conclusion

“Let us take off the old self, with its deeds and its thoughts, and let us
put on the new self, with its works.” Theo., Instr. 3:101
Shenoute justified the expulsion of disciples from the White Monastery
federation by appealing to God’s removal of Adam from Paradise:2
“Consider our first father Adam. It is a single command that God ordered
for him: ‘Do not eat from this tree, lest you perish’. Behold, after he dis-
obeyed him, he (God) did not put up with him for a single instant, but
cast him from Paradise with great anger. Then will he spare us, if we trans-
gress (paraba) his commandments, to not cast us from his holy places?”
Thus, for Shenoute, the primal sin was disobedience:  Adam disobeyed
the only “rule” of Paradise, and God justifiably cast him out. He is draw-
ing on an earlier cenobitic exegetical tradition, articulated in Letter 5 of
Pachomius: “Adam led the way as a model of disobedience and contempt.”3
In the Introduction, we saw that the Pachomians further attributed the
proliferation of evil thoughts and temptations to Adam and Eve’s partak-
ing from the Tree of Knowledge. In Discourses 5, Shenoute similarly asserts
that the devil sowed disobedience into the hearts of Adam and Eve, and
humanity suffered as a consequence.4 These two trends in the cenobitic
interpretation of the Fall suggests that disobedience and evil thoughts
are the two primary markers of sinful humanity. From this perspective,
the monastic ideal of freely choosing to live in obedience and cultivate

1
CSCO 107: 45.
2
FR-BN 1304 101 (Leipoldt 1903: 194): Acephalous Work A1, described in Emmel 2004a, 2.685–687;
see the discussion in Chapter 2. Cf. Pachomius’s homily on salvation history, in which Moses’ law is
contrasted with Adam’s: “not in one word, as in Paradise: ‘Do not eat from the tree of the knowledge
of good and evil’ ” (Paralip. 38, Halkin: 162).
3
Letter 5:7 (Boon: 91). In Letter 3:10, Adam’s sin is related to theft, which seems to have been a com-
mon infraction in Late Antique monastic communities.
4
Emmel 2004a, 2:635–636. Jenott 2013 compares conceptions of Adam and Eve in Egyptian ascetic
sources with their portrayals in Nag Hammadi Codex II; however, he does not consider Pachomian
literature or the writings of Shenoute.

292
 Conclusion 293
good thoughts represents the path to salvation, a return to life in Paradise:
in the words of Theodore, the removal of “the old self, with its deeds and
thoughts,” through the care of souls.
Putting on the “new self ” required obedience to the monastic superior,
including conformity to the traditional rules, institutions, and discipline of
the cenobium; but also the exercise of free choice, and in particular active
participation in the disciplining of thoughts and emotions. This process
was based on metacognition, an increased attention to one’s own mental
processes, but went beyond the conscious effort to monitor and regulate
the cognitive stream. Disciples gradually acquired a particularly monastic
theory of mind, including assumptions about the mind’s permeability to
divine or demonic influence, the moral significance of assenting to evil
thoughts, the visibility of one’s thoughts and emotions to God and certain
saints, and the possibilities of revelation. The key aspects of the care of
souls in cenobitic monasticism, including initial vetting procedures, cogni-
tive disciplines, and collective rituals, all have the goal of eliminating nega-
tive thoughts and emotions and redirecting the heart towards, for example,
scriptural meditation and images of divine judgment and magnificence.
This monastic heart-work reflects a spirituality in which regular disci-
pline, both individual and collective, gradually changes mental experience,
understood as a purification of the mind. While scholars of the ancient
world have long drawn on anthropological theory to understand group
structure and ritual dynamics, in this book I have frequently engaged
with recent work in cognitive and psychological anthropology, which is
documenting the efforts and consequences of contemporary religionists
to enact change in their mental processes, from emotions and thoughts
to perception. While we cannot conduct similar surveys or other experi-
mental studies on the inhabitants of the late Roman world, we must take
seriously the frequent monastic exhortations to monitor, understand, and
discipline the mind, and the related assertions of reformed cognition: a
heart inscribed with scripture, for example, or infused with fear, or thank-
fully contemplating the cosmos created by God.
Already at the monastery’s gate, the numerous entrance procedures were
related to theory of mind: leaders had to determine the motivations and
character of postulants, to ensure that they were sincere in their commit-
ment and would not endanger other monks through their sinful behav-
ior. In particular, there were lingering suspicions about attraction to the
monastic life as an escape from worldly obligations rather than a desire
for virtue and salvation; and concern that family, government, or other
interested parties would contest the decision to become a monk. Some
294 Collective Heart-Work
postulants appealed to commitment narratives – corresponding to typolo-
gies of ascetic vocation – in order to emphasize that they were exercising
their free choice in joining the community, and that they were not com-
pelled by personal circumstances or zealous monastic recruiters.
Even if a postulant’s background was openly discussed in an initial
interview and determined satisfactory, there was the additional question
of character: were they capable of the obedience necessary for the fasting
and other ascetic practices, labor, and heart-work of a cenobitic monk? As
Augustine observed, most disciples could not evaluate their own heart, so
the superior’s task of evaluating another’s was impossible. Not all shared
his pessimism regarding theory of mind: while Pachomius and his succes-
sor Petronius claimed a charismatic knowledge, the Koinonia and other
large monastic communities adopted a series of entrance procedures
beyond the interview, such as initial rejection, hazing, property renuncia-
tion, and the vow. These “high cost” actions signaled long-term commit-
ment, and created incentives to remain in the community, beginning with
investiture in the monastic habit, a marker of cultural capital and source
of prestige.
For disciples who were admitted, obedience was not only a matter of
following rules and directions, to support the normal activities of the com-
munity; it also involved the manifestation of one’s thoughts to a monastic
director, willingly submitting to their instructions, and actively training in
the cognitive disciplines of Scripture, fear of God, and prayer. Cognitive
disciplines were a way to struggle against evil thoughts: to “answer” them
with biblical arguments, or refuse assent by imagining the agony of post-
mortem punishment. Prayer, understood in the broad sense of dialogue
with God, progressed as the monk gained experience: one listened to
the divine voice of the conscience, spoke to God in a biblical mode, and
praised the magnificence of His creation, gradually coming to perceive the
power of divine providence, protecting the monk from demonic threats.
The study of Scripture was perhaps the most basic form of cognitive
discipline:  the illiterate learned to copy biblical verses from a monastic
pedagogue as the first step to memorization, and the larger goal of writing
them on the heart. Monks also practiced attentive listening to the regular
catecheses and subsequent discussion, thereby learning standard interpre-
tations of the key passages for monastic life, along with relevant emotions,
from joy to grief to fear. In the “oracular mode” of Scripture, disciples
were trained to perceive certain biblical verses as directly spoken to them
by God; in the “prosopopoeic mode,” monks spoke in the voice of biblical
characters, such as David in the Psalms. Through such practices, monks
 Conclusion 295
learned to think in scriptural terms, and to recognize certain thoughts as
coming from God, to whom they might respond in turn.
Learning the fear of God entailed the acceptance of what was, at least
for some, a radically new idea: that God was aware of and judged not only
secret acts, but secret thoughts. Monks expanded their sense of shame,
guilt, and bodily pain through a potent combination of imagination and
discipline, based on the concept of the last judgement. Disciples learned
that their interior assent to demonic temptation, which was already known
to God and clairvoyant monks, would be exposed for all to see at the divine
tribunal; they acquired a sense of guilt through imagining divine condem-
nation at this same scene, and listening to the rebuke of their supervisors.
Finally, corporal discipline gave monks a sense of the bodily pain associ-
ated with post-mortem punishment. They were urged to practice the fear
of God through personal exercises, and draw on it to resist evil thoughts.
As disciples progressed, they developed various techniques of prayer,
broadly understood as a conversation with God. Although the institu-
tional context of the cenobium is perhaps less immediately evident for
prayer than the other cognitive disciplines, it is important. The divine
voice of conscience is said to address new monks who consider breaking
the rules. Furthermore, as with catechesis, there were regularly scheduled
times of group prayer in both the Koinonia and the White Monastery
federation. Night vigils were encouraged, and Pachomius taught a special
body posture designed to help stay awake during prayer. More advanced
monks learned how to cultivate their “perception” of God’s grandeur and
beneficence through praise. Like the fear of God, this could also include
efforts at visualization, and such internal image meditation is likely related
to the report of frequent unusual sensory experience (visionary, auditory,
and to a lesser extent olfactory) in the Life of Pachomius, who is said to
have led an informal discussion group of elders who had visions.
While the cognitive disciplines of Scripture, fear of God, and prayer
were practiced with the help of cenobitic institutional structures, they were
common to the care of souls in other forms of monasticism, and indeed
ancient Christianity more generally. Several community rituals, in particu-
lar commemoration and collective repentance, represent a form of heart-
work more distinctive to cenobitic monasticism. Like other hagiography,
the substantial biographical corpus of Pachomius and Theodore afford its
audience a way to practice the monastic theory of mind, by offering a priv-
ileged perspective on the saints’ internal deliberations, including the use
of clairvoyance and other revelations in their disciplinary decisions. The
secret prayers of Pachomius (and Theodore) on behalf of the Koinonia are
296 Collective Heart-Work
emphasized, establishing his role as patron of the disciples’ salvation both
before and after death. Theodore accordingly established a joyous com-
memorative ritual, in which the disciples fulfill their filial obligation to
praise Pachomius, as part of a reaffirmed commitment to follow his laws,
with the assurance that their patron would secure them a place in heaven.
While Shenoute certainly commemorated Pcol and Pshoi as founders of
the White Monastery federation, his Canons provide evidence for a ritual
of collective repentance, much like Theodore’s oratory following the revolt
against Horsiesius. Shenoute directed that these Canons, with their enu-
meration of the community’s traditional rules, be read at the four annual
meetings; as is evident from various hints in the texts, their reading was
accompanied by the weeping of collective repentance, and a renewed com-
mitment to obedience. In fact, many writings in the Canons were likely
composed and delivered around the time of the four yearly meetings, in
response to internal conflicts, which often ended with Shenoute’s expul-
sion of sinners. Like Pachomian hagiography, Shenoute’s writings offer the
audience an intimate picture of the leader’s thoughts, emotions, and prayer
life; they are striking in their quick alternation between his grieved voice
of humble self-doubt, and confident claims of divine inspiration for his
aggressive discipline. This alternating performance allows Shenoute both
to reject challenges to his authority and to act as a model of repentance for
his congregation. He presents the heart as a microcosm for the individual
and the monastery, directing his disciples to expel their evil thoughts, just
as he guards the community’s purity by expelling sinners.
The coordinated expulsion of bad thoughts through collective repen-
tance demonstrates the strong institutional context of monastic cognition.
The various forms of heart-work explored in this book have not suggested
that monasticism, or Christianity, is primarily constituted by the interior
experience of an autonomous believer, to the exclusion of practice and
group dynamics. While scholars frequently warn against René Descartes’s
assumption of a mind-body dualism, I  would also point to an equally
problematic heritage, namely his radically individualized approach to
metacognition: in the Discourse on Method, he relates his need for complete
solitude in order to examine his own thoughts thoroughly, and his discov-
ery of certitude in these alone.5 This ideal of cognitive autonomy is applied
to moral discourse in Émile, Rousseau’s Enlightenment Bildungsroman, in
the proclamation of the Savoyard priest: “I need only consult myself with

5
Descartes, Discourse on Method 2.
 Conclusion 297
regard to what I wish to do; what I feel to be right is right, what I feel
to be wrong is wrong.”6 Here discernment is an entirely personal matter,
in stark contrast to the manifestation of thoughts in ancient Christian
monasticism, whether to a teacher or the entire community. While there
are certain similarities between this practice and modern cognitive behav-
ioral therapy, the process was far more extensive for Late Antique disciples,
who were expected not only to reveal their thoughts, but to acquire a new
model of the mind and its path to purification through cognitive disci-
plines and collective heart-work.

6
Rousseau, trans. Foxley 1911, 249.
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 Index Locorum

Page numbers with ‘n’ are notes.

Aelius Theon Ep. Virg.
Progym. 1:3, 44n27
108, 120n58 2:8, 43n25
151-2, 140n189 Festal Letter, 39:21, 218n177
158, 122n77 prol., 237n21, 239n28
168, 140n188 V. Ant.
170, 138n172 2:2, 143n206
Ambrose 2:3, 142n203
De virginitate 2:4, 142n204
2:1:2, 238n25 3, 238n26
2:6:29, 236n15 3:1, 143n207
Ammonas 3:7, 122n73
Ep. 66:2, 122n73
2, 208n116 72:1, 111n5, 122n73
3, 208n118 Augustine
7, 209n120 De catech. rud., 1:7-11, 250n78
8, 207n113 De op. mon., 25, 38n100,
9, 208n117 38n99
10, 208n119, 214n161 Doct. chr.
11, 101n24, 182n142, 207n112 Preface 4, 122n74
12, 208n114 1.43.93, 122n74
Antony, Ep., 1, 101n25 4.17.4, 125n95
Apophth. Patr. 4.19.38, 127n101
Dioscorus 3, 95n151 4.24.53, 127n102
John the Cenobite 1, 91n125 Ep.
Macarius the Egyptian 98:6, 54n88
31, 58n111 211, 224n11
Arabic Life of Pachomius see V. Pach. Ar. Mon.
Aristotle 20, 141n197
Rhetorica 21, 118n48
1388ab, 237n22 Psal. 99.11, 38n101
1406b, 145n220 Reg.
Athanasius 4-5, 149n9
Ep. Marcell. 6:3, 266n27
2, 145n219 7:1, 275n83
10, 140n187 Serm.
12, 145n220 132:2, 150n10
27, 120n60 243:5, 160n50
33, 125n96 356:7, 59n116

329
330 Index Locorum
Augustine (cont.) 157, 203n95
356:8, 58n110 235, 3n14, 118n48
Mor. 14, 122n75 236, 117n46
Aurelian Benedict
Mon. Reg.
17, 54n89 30:2-3, 55n92
32, 114n25 70:4, 54n89
70:4-5, 55n92
Barsanuphius Besa
Resp. Frag.
prologue, 189n20 1, 7n35, 88n111
255, 198n69 3, 133n131, 133n132, 156n36, 274n73
256, 199n70 5, 137n170, 137n171
257, 50n65, 200n78 7, 89n115
258, 200n79, 200n80, 200n81, 200n82 8, 133n131
261, 251n84 12, 121n67, 124n89, 130n115, 133n131,
265, 15n71 290n141
319, 50n62 13, 45n39, 45n40
326, 50n63 14, 45n39, 80n69, 133n139
327, 119n53 16, 226n21
442, 169n95 27,  2n10
Basil 30, 45n39, 90n120, 90n121
Ep., 34n78 31, 80n70, 80n71, 81n72
94, 34n73 32, 45n39
173, 82n84 33, 55n97
199, 44n30, 82n82 35, 45n39
223, 33n71 38, 251n85
LR Bible
10, 74n42, 76n52, 77n56 Acts
10:1, 76n48 2:28,  228
10:2,  68n6 4:32,  229
11, 59n117 4:35,  143
12, 53n79, 53n81 8:23,  162
13, 111n10 14:8-10, 162n67
14, 82n83, 90n122 21:13,  123
15, 55n98, 56n103 2 Chr., 3:3,  137
22:3, 95n150 Col. 3:16,  141
22-3, 94n145 2 Cor., 3:2-3, 139n181
25, 227n30 Dan., 2:21,  211
26, 100n17 Deut.
33,  3n11 4:10,  139
37, 141n198 4:19, 204n96
41,  7n34 11:18-20, 110
43, 34n75 Eph.
45,  2n7 6:12,  143
46, 100n17 6:16, 273n68
54, 34n75 Ezek.
prol., 62n135 3:20,  228
Moralia, 734, 53n82 15:35-36,  281
RBas 16:25,  282
6:4-5, 76n48 16:26,  281
6:9-11, 76n52 23:20,  282
195,  9n39 Gal. 2:1-2,  251
SR Gen.
75, 9n39, 104n46 13,  250
119, 34n75 17:2,  136
 Index Locorum 331
Heb. 30:1, 124
10:22, 190n28 Ps.
10:31,  148 7:10,  167
10:36,  143 10:11, 151n18
11:32,  251 13:1,  274
13:7, 251, 252n86 34:12-15,  136
13:8, 238, 252n86 51:17, 269n44
Hos. 6261:12, 123n81
7:13,  165 68,  210
13:4, 204n96 68:2-3,  202
Isa. 69:2, 144n211
44:28,  137 71:18, 238, 252n86
61:10,  137 72:11, 274, 274n73
Jer. 73:11, 151n18
17:5, 250n79 78:3, 238, 252n86
23:9, 285n125 86:11, 149n5
28:50,  137 94:7, 151n18
35:18,  254 101:3, 252n86
35:19,  254 101:5, 134n148, 202
Jn.  102:1,  203
3:8,  216 106/105:13,  258
8:44,  282 111:6, 252n86
1 Jn2:1-2, 257, 258 115:3,  203
Job, 24:15, 151n18 117:8, 250n79
1 Kg. 118:11,  106
9:19-20,  162 146.3, 270n45
16:6-12, 162n67 Qo
4 Kg. 9:8,  137
4:27, 162n67 12:13-14,  149
5:25-7, 162n67 Rev., 2:23,  167
Lam. 3:27-30, 143 Rom.
Lk. 1:21, 279, 291
2:19,  124 12:5,  277
14:26,  190 Sir.
Mt. 16:16-7, 151n18
6:34,  143 16:20-1, 151n18
12:33,  164 23:18-20, 151n18
13:42,  173 Wis., 10:17,  139
13:52,  139
15:19, 104n46 Caesarius
19:21,  142 Virg.
22:29,  156 7, 54n89
2 Pet., 2:21, 90n119 7:3, 114n25
Phil. 3:15,  211 Callinicus
Prov. V. Hyp.
3:3, 139, 139n181 14, 163n69
3:9-10,  136 21, 59n120
3:27-28,  137 24, 52n76
5:1,  124 Cassian
9:10, 149n5 Coll.
13:2,  139 3:1, 246n61
20:9, 274n72 3:3, 62n136
21:22, 162n67 3:4, 62n138, 64n147
23:12,  124 3:5, 62n134, 64n148
23:19, 124n86 7:90, 104n46
27:23, 162n67 10:8, 146n224
332 Index Locorum
Cassian (cont.) 1:25, 119n55
10:10, 147n225 3, 167n90
10:11, 144n211, 145n220, 145n221 4:52, 181n140
18:4,  7n34 6, 166n83, 188n13
21:1-8, 53n80 7, 242n48
21:8, 64n146 10:105, 119n54
21:9, 53n83 Inst., 5, 210n124
21:10, 53n84 V. Dos.3, 243n49
Inst. coen.
1:2, 94n145 Epictetus
1:19, 101n24 Encheiridion, 181n139
3:1, 246n61 Ep. Am.
4, 242n44 2, 40n7, 72n25
4:1, 69n13, 72n23 3, 143n208, 143n209
4:3, 73n34 7, 124n85
4:3-4, 79n64 8, 126n97
4:5, 92n136 16, 162n66
4:5-6, 91n127 17, 126n98, 162n68, 167n89
4:6, 94n145 19-20, 162n68
4:7, 73n30 20, 167n88, 167n89
4:8, 72n23 21, 167n87, 167n88
4:9, 99n10 22-4, 162n68
4:17, 111n12 23, 167n87, 167n88
4:30, 54n87, 240n35 24, 167n89
4:40, 239n28 26, 162n68, 167n88
7:2, 209n122 Esaias
7:5, 105n48 Or.
24:26, 51n68 15:1, 164n78
Chrysostom 15:2, 164n79
Compunct. Evagrius of Pontus
1 1:1, 47n46 Cap. Prac., Prologue 8,
1 1:6, 47n49 94n145
Sac., 1, 47n50 Or., 3, 106n52
Stag.1, 47n48 Thoughts
Thdr., 47n51 17,  9n42
1:17, 48n53 8, 101n24
2:1, 90n119
Cicero, De oratore 101,  125 Faustus of Riez
Clement of Alexandria Hom.
Paed. 72:3, 255n105, 255n106
1:2, 125n92 72:14, 253n94
1:8, 99n12, 157n42 72:2, 253n92
1:9, 157n41 72:3, 255n104
1:89, 125n93 72:5, 253n93
Codex Theodosianus, 12.1.63, 46n44, First Greek Life of Pachomius see
52n75 V. Pach. G1
Con. S. 59n118 Fortunatianus, Ars Rhetorica 3.13-4,
Constantine, Epistula ad episcopos 117n43
catholicos, 148, 151n17
Cyril of Scythopolis, V. Sab., 54n90 Gennadius, 143, 254n97
Gerontius, V. Mel, 23,  233
Dorotheus of Gaza Great Coptic Life of Pachomius see
Doct. V. Pach. SBo
1:12, 142n205 Greek Lives of Pachomius see V. Pach. G2,
1:19, 94n147 G3, etc.
 Index Locorum 333
Gregory the Great 5, 137n167
Dial. 6 320.12168, 186, 203, 204n96, 204n97,
2:3, 56n105 206n104, 207n109
2:11, 56n105 6:4, 168n93
Past.2:7, 96n152 7, 135n159, 160n53, 260, 261n6
Gregory Nazianus 7:2, 200n76
Or. Reg.
43, 199n71, 249n74 6, 202n87
43.23.4, 110n4 10, 124n88
16, 117n44
Hieronymus 18,  67n3
Abac. 2:2, 139n181 39-40, 141n195
Ep. 44-7, 141n195
14:9, 90n119 Test.
22, 43n23 1-5, 187n7
22:2, 90n121 5, 2n9, 164n77, 189n18
22:34,  7n34 7,  2n9
22:29, 59n115 10,  2n7
22:3, 45n35 12, 257n114
22:8, 45n36 13, 6n25, 228n32
33:35, 242n43 15,  6n25
46:1, 43n24 15-16,  6n26
53:1, 105n48 17,  5n24
77:9, 48n54 19, 66n160, 106n49, 188n15
Epitaph to Paula 20.1.1, 59n115 21, 66n158
Matt. 2:2, 139n181 22, 39n4, 187n8
V. Malch., 3, 48n55 27, 79n64
Hilary of Arles 28, 99n11, 136n165
V. Hon. 31-32, 90n119
4:18, 163n70 36, 165n82, 204n96
23:3, 46n45 40, 228n31
23:6, 46n45 43, 112n14
32:8 132n128 46, 66n159, 257n115
Historia Monachorum (HM) 47, 66n159
1, 139n181 51, 110n2, 139n180, 140n190
2:9, 207n109 56, 149n8
3, 242n42 Hymn to Julian Saba (Ps.-Ephrem)
23.2, 46n42 1:1, 252n87
24:2, 74n36 2, 252n88
31:12, 76n51 2:17, 252n89
Horsiesius 4, 252n88
Ep. 5:1, 252n87
1-2, 26n27 12:13-14, 252n90
2, 240n34 22:11, 252n91
3:2, 290n143 22:16, 252n91
3-4, 26n27 22:7, 255n103
4:5, 226n24
4:7, 226n24 Isaac of Nineveh, Mystical Treatises, 80,  246
Frag., A, 84n91, 95n149
Instr. Jerome see Hieronymus
1, 136n162 John Climacus
1:2, 94n147 Scal.
2, 136n163, 136n164 15, 245n57
3, 136n165 4:11, 60n124
4, 137n166 26, 200n77
334 Index Locorum
John of Ephesus 1:31, 191n34
Lives of the Eastern Saints 1:33, 152n20, 159
15, 243n50 1:36, 226n20
19, 244n51 1:38, 163, 165n80, 167
20, 60n127, 61n130, 73n32, 74n40, 1:39, 267n34
77n55, 92n134, 97n1 1:41, 155n33, 165n81, 183n144,
Justinian 226n20
Nov. 1:43, 183n144, 226n20
5,  36n91 1:45, 193n39
5:2, 37n98, 59n121, 60n124, 72n28 1:51, 83n88, 88n112
5:4, 81n76 1:53, 123n80
5:5, 81n75 1:55, 151n19
5:7, 81n76 1:55-6,  97n3
123:40, 53n85 1:59, 181n141
2, 226n22
Kritias, Frag., 25, 150n15 6, 163n72
8, 163n72
Menander Rhetor, On Epideictic Speeches, 11, 163n72
13:297-8, 128n109 12, 163n72
Musonius, Frag., 6, 107n58 14, 141n191
58-61, 226n20
Nilus P
Alb., 241n41 3, 201n85
De mon. ex., 9, 60n129 5-7, 201n85
Ep. 7, 242n47
2:167, 199n72 8, 163n73
2:290, 65n152 11-12, 201n85
17, 163n71, 163n72
Origen 18, 163n71
Comm. ad Rom, 9:6, 160n49 22, 163n71
Or., 14:2, 187n4, 187n5 33, 111n12
Princ., 3:2:4, 101n24 36-7, 141n194
48, 163n71
Pachomius 49, 37n97, 60n126, 70n16, 71n21, 74n39,
Ep. 113n18
3, 225n18 87-8, 205n103
5:7, 292n3 97, 92n131
7:1, 226n19 121, 163n71
Frag.4, 48n52, 51n70 125, 163n71
Instr. 131, 163n71, 163n72
1, 266n33 135, 163n71, 163n72, 163n73
1:1, 124n86 137, 163n71
1:6, 235n14 139, 70n17, 113n18, 114n22, 116n37,
1:9, 106n54 140n182
1:10, 103n36 139-40, 115n29
1:11, 97n2, 99n13, 140, 117n44
106n55 144, 158n45, 163n71
1:12, 144n212 145, 163n72
1:18, 22n7, 235n14 PInst
1:22,  22n7 6, 163n71
1:23, 104n45 8, 163n71
1:24, 103n37 11, 163n71
1:27, 202n89 12, 163n71
1:28, 124n90 14, 201n85
1:30, 182n143 18, 178n128
 Index Locorum 335
PIud Ps.-Aristotle
1, 163n75 Rhetorica ad Alexandrum
2, 163n75, 166n85 1:3 1358b, 125n94
3, 166n85 1421 b9, 125n94
4, 170n102 Ps.-Athanasius
5, 166n85 De incarnatione contra Apollinarem, 1:15,
6, 166n85 105n47
9, 163n75 V. Syncl.
PLeg, 10, 201n85 1, 43n26
Palladius 31, 45n38
HL 42, 44n29
7:6,  21n4 Ps.-Basil, De virg., 2:15-18, 44n34
11:4, 117n47 Ps.-Lib., Epist., 52, 237n23
18, 240n37 Ps.-Longinus
18:13,  21n4 On the Sublime
19, 60n123 13:2-14:3, 237n22
22, 74n36, 76n50 15:1, 138n173
32, 4n15, 72n27, 242n42 15:9, 128n108
32:8,  21n4
32:9,  21n4 Questions and Answers on the Ascetic Rule,
32:12, 117n47 625,  97n2
33-4, 42n19 Quintilian
34:6, 242n46 Inst. or.
38:10, 120n63 1.1.35-6, 140n182
47,  8n37 1.8.2-3, 144n213
69, 60n122 1.9.2-3, 120n59
Paralip. 6.2.9, 128n106
2, 174n112 6:2:29, 138n174
4, 212n144 8.3.62, 67, 128n107
7,  98n7 8.3.67, 128n107
8:16, 189n17 11.2.33, 123n78
9:20,  39n3 11.2.51, 123n79
11, 118n49 11.3.65-97, 131n122
12, 184n147 11.3.71, 131n123
17, 213n152 11.3.104, 131n125
19, 90n119
19-20, 178n129 RM
20, 205n101 6, 267n35
24-6, 213n152 7,  7n35
27,  5n20 7:53-6, 66n158
37 1n4 11, 238n27
38, 2n5, 2n6, 8n36, 292n2 12, 166n84, 166n86
Paul of Elusa, Encomium, 20, 253n95, 13, 171n105, 288n135
253n96 14, 171n104
Paulinus 14:79, 54n89
Ep. 15, 99n15, 264n21
24:2, 81n73 15:28-33, 143n210
29:14, 233n1 24, 141n196
Philodemos, Adv. soph, col.4, 9-14, 177n126 26, 238n27
Philostratus, Lives of the Sophists, ‘Aristides’, 29, 160n52
2:252-3, 128n110 50:12-3, 115n29
Philoxenus, Homily, 3:70, 56n102, 61n132 50:64-9, 114n26
Plato, Phaedrus, 261a7-9, 128n104 59:10, 54n89
Pliny, Ep. 10:36, 83n86 71, 238n27
Ps.-Ambr., Laps. virg., 18, 64n149 82, 77n54
336 Index Locorum
RM (cont.) 8, 68n8, 137n169, 156n39, 231n52, 262n13,
87, 60n128, 78n61, 81n74, 82n77 270n46, 278n96, 278n97, 279n101,
87-8, 73n31 279n102, 279n103, 279n104, 279n105,
89, 89n116 280n106, 280n107, 280n109, 281n110,
90, 60n128, 78n61, 96n152 281n112, 282n114, 291n146
90:1, 74n37 9, 89n114, 91n128, 102n34,
90:3, 77n54 264n22
90:81, 92n133 De iudicio dei, 146n223, 178n132, 179n134,
91, 50n66 179n135, 180n136, 180n137
Rufinus, H.E., 2:9, 33n72 Discourses
Rules of Dadīšō’ 4, 102n33, 171n103
7, 114n21 5, 133n130
Rules
Sahidic Lives of Pachomius, see V.Pach. 1-2, 196n60
S1, S2, etc. 3, 196n61
Salvian, De Gubernatione Dei, 4:7, 93n138 5, 196n62
Seneca 6, 195n53
Ep. 22-24, 226n25
52, 62n137 24, 164n76
94:43, 177n124 25, 86n102, 86n103, 223n5
Serapion, Regula ad monachos 7:9-10, 59n119 48, 195n53
Severus of Antioch, Ep. 2.10.6, 51n70 54, 196n54
Shenoute 57, 195n53
Acephalous Work A1, 84n94 60-2, 196n57
Apocalypse of Shenoute (Ps.-) 86, 79n65
CSCO 73: 198, 215n164 95, 196n58
CSCO 73: 198–204, 215n163 127, 196n59
CSCO 73: 199–200, 215n165 143, 161n55
CSCO 73: 210, 259n123 223, 197n63
Canons 243, 79n66, 81n72
1, 28n38, 106n51, 129n112, 223n3, 224n12, 258-60, 51n71
227n27, 230n48, 261n5, 266n26, 267n37, 299, 197n63
268n39, 268n40, 268n41, 269n42, 270n45, 314, 227n26
282n115, 283n116, 283n117, 283n118 338, 75n44
2, 121n68, 227n29, 231n53 344, 135n159
3, 169n96, 286n129, 289n138 368, 197n63
4, 112n15, 129n113, 129n114, 130n116, 370, 226n25
130n117, 131n119, 131n120, 168n94, 410, 75n43, 78n60
177n121, 225n14, 231n49, 231n50, 261n7, 418, 80n68
269n43, 269n44, 270n46, 271n51, 271n53, 420, 55n98
271n54, 271n55, 271n56, 271n57, 272n60, 440, 78n59, 84n92, 87n105
272n61, 272n62, 272n63, 272n64, 449, 80n68
273n67, 273n68, 273n69, 273n70, 464, 87n105, 244–45
273n71, 274n73, 274n74, 274n75, 465, 77n53
274n76, 274n77, 274n78, 275n79, 472, 37n93, 71n22, 80n67, 92n133
275n80, 275n81, 275n82, 275n83, 275n84, 513-516, 196n56
276n85, 276n86, 276n87, 276n88, 538, 73n34
276n89, 276n91, 277n92, 277n93, 571-2, 195n53
277n94, 283n120, 288n133, 289n139, Socrates
289n140, 290n142, 290n143, 291n145 H.E.
5, 262n12, 284n121, 284n122 4: 20, 33n72
6, 131n126, 172n107, 172n108, 173n111, 6:3, 47n47
260, 284n123, 285n124, 285n125, Sozomen
285n126 H.E.
7, 266n30 4:17, 33n72
 Index Locorum 337
Sulpicius Severus V. Fulg.
Dial. 3, 50n65, 74n38
1:10,  7n34 4, 49n58
1:10-16, 244n52 8, 240n38
V. Mart.10, 121n65 11, 240n39
14:30, 241n40
Testament of Reuben, 2:1-3:7, 103n38 V. Macr., 36-8, 54n88
Theodoret, Ep.81, 56n100 V. Marcelli, 12, 52n74
Theodore V. Mariae, 245n59
Ep. 2, 247n64
1, 26n27 3, 246n60
2, 26n27, 225n17, 225n18 V. Mel., 8, 45n37
2:2, 123n81 V. Pach. Ar.
2:4, 257n113 Amélineau1889: 424-7, 194n48
Instr. Amélineau1889: 426-7, 194n49
2, 188n9 Amélineau1889: 427, 195n51
3:1, 99n15, 191n33 Amélineau1889: 428, 195n52
3:2, 99n14 Amélineau1889: 435, 195n52, 198n68
3:3, 84n90, 94n147, 228n34 Amélineau1889: 477, 197n66
3:5, 228n35 Amélineau1889: 511ff, 199n73, 200n78
3:6, 99n15, 123n83, 144n212 Amélineau1889: 591-5, 162n63
3:8, 112n14, 159n47 V. Pach. G1, 24n15, 195n52
3:9, 202n88, 210n125 2, 257n116
3:10,  292 2-5, 63n141
3:11, 193n43 5, 63n142
3:11-14, 187n7 9, 110n1, 110n3
3:13, 7n35, 67, 73n35, 76n49, 83n85, 10, 135n156
193n43 16, 205n103
3:14, 111n10 17, 237n24
3:16, 70n18 18,  148
3:17, 71n19, 228n36 22, 210n128
3:18, 229n40 24, 72n24, 110n3
3:20, 25n22, 39, 39n4, 41n13, 101n28, 148n3 28,  2n7
3:21, 188n10, 228n37 33, 48n56, 63n143
3:23, 228n35, 229n40, 229n41 35, 37n96, 48n57, 63n144
3:24, 61n131, 84n90, 228n31, 228n34 36, 216n167
3:26, 202n90 37, 41n12, 49n58, 71n20
3:27, 66n157, 72n23, 228n34 40, 189n22, 190n24
3:29-30, 188n16 48, 161n59, 218n179
3:30, 228n31, 228n35 49, 55n94
3:35, 254n97 56, 104n43
3:36, 228n34 56-58, 134n143, 135n155
3:37-8, 229n40 57-8, 134n145
3:41, 66n156, 193n43 60, 205n103
3:43, 66n157 62, 135n153
3:46, 226n23 65, 190n23
3:47, 228n35, 254n98 67, 167n89
68, 190n25
V. Dos. 70, 54n86, 167n88
1, 50n64 74, 161n59
1-2, 75n47 75, 135n150
2, 60n127 80, 51n72
V. Eupr. 87, 207n109
8, 56n106, 57n107 89, 141n195, 161n59
10, 91n129 91, 133n134
338 Index Locorum
V. Pach. G1 (cont.) 3-7, 63n141
93a, 213n151 7, 24n16
93b, 212n146 8, 24n16, 63n141, 63n142
95, 118n49 12, 211n133, 235n11
96, 100n21, 104n42, 206n106 14, 110n3
98, 253n93 15, 110n3
99, 134n148, 214n159, 237n24, 258n117 17, 205n103, 211n134, 213n151, 235n11
102, 211n138, 214n159 22, 211n133, 213n151, 213n152, 235n11
104, 55n93, 84n92 23, 25n21, 69n11, 74n41
105, 236n18, 236n19, 239n31 24,  68n5
106, 167n88 25, 37n93
106-7, 237n20 26,  2n7
107, 217n176 27, 25n21, 36n92, 42n19, 135n150
109, 189n21 29, 124n87, 134n143, 134n146, 135n149,
112, 162n63, 162n64 239n29, 251n84
119, 240n33 30, 37n96, 48n57
121, 190n24 31, 48n56, 63n143, 111n6, 192n35
125, 134n141, 134n143 32, 216n168
132, 104n44, 148n3, 221n1 33, 216n169
134 10n19, 107 35-8, 217n170
135, 162n65 37, 41n12, 49n58, 49n59, 49n60, 71n20
140, 72n26 38, 36n92
199, 239n30 40, 37n93, 95n148
232,  9n41 41, 134n146
V. Pach. G3, 195n52 46, 134n141, 134n143, 203n94
V. Pach. G4,  3n14 49, 211n134
33,  2n8 51,  2n9
49,  2n8 52, 2n9, 211n134
V. Pach. G8, 32, 51n71, 64n145 56, 51n72
V. Pach. G96, 207n107 59, 161n59, 205n103
V. Pach. S1, 5n21, 5n22, 41n9, 84n93, 101n28, 63, 190n24, 190n25, 217n171
204n99, 209n121 64, 161n56, 161n59
V. Pach. S2, 207n110 65, 54n86, 167n88, 210n127
V. Pach. S3, 83n89, 84n93, 88n112, 90n117, 66, 212n149
90n118, 100n16, 190n27, 192n37, 193n38, 67, 135n155, 217n175
248n69 69, 217n172
V. Pach. S3b, 250n80, 251n83, 252n86 70, 217n173
V. Pach. S3C, 1n1, 1n2, 105n47, 190n28, 72, 161n57, 161n61, 167n88, 190n26
191n29, 193n40, 193n41 73, 176n117, 176n118, 213n151, 217n174
V. Pach. S4, 203n94 74, 141n195, 161n56, 188n10, 188n12
V. Pach. S5, 65n155, 168n91, 191n32, 207n107, 74-5, 217n174
207n108 75, 167n89
19, 135n157 76, 213n151, 217n174
20, 135n152 77, 133n134, 161n56, 161n59, 217n175
92, 197n66 78, 67n4, 134n147
V. Pach. S6, 75n45, 101n26, 170n98, 193n42 80, 217n175
V. Pach. S7, 190n27 81, 37n93, 212n145, 213n151
V. Pach. S10, 55n92, 105n47, 123n83, 144n211, 82, 173n109, 179n133, 212n146
186, 186n3, 187n6, 190n27, 190n28, 83, 212n145
191n29, 193n39, 195n52, 203n91, 203n93, 84, 213n151
203n94, 206n105, 210n131, 211n132 85, 213n151
frag.2, 114n24 87, 134n142, 161n60, 168n91, 191n31, 191n32
V. Pach. S13, 191n33 88, 135n157, 170n100, 212n147
V. Pach. SBo 89, 37n94, 37n95, 49n61, 118n49
3-5, 24n15 94, 142n202, 163n75, 167n88
 Index Locorum 339
95, 211n136, 212n142 149, 173n110, 183n146, 288n134
97, 134n143 155, 211n138
98, 134n142 181, 212n145
101, 65n155, 170n101 183, 213n151
102, 162n62 184, 192n36
103, 211n137, 211n138 185, 161n59, 212n149, 257n113
104, 135n151 186, 106n50, 135n158
105, 135n154 187, 135n154
106, 161n59, 199n73, 239n32 188, 126n100, 230n47
107, 1n3, 7n30, 22n8, 68n5, 68n7, 74n42, 189, 27n29, 145n218
161n59, 167n88, 187, 193n43, 199n73, 190, 135n158
211n137, 288n133 191, 98n8, 99n15, 100n16, 100n19, 188n14
108, 161n60, 211n135, 288n132 193, 129n111, 225n16, 254n100
111, 37n95, 161n59 194, 40n5, 233, 233n2, 248n68, 248n69,
112, 211n136, 212n142, 213n151 248n70, 250n79, 250n80, 254n101,
113 205n100, 207n109 255n102, 256n108, 256n109, 256n110,
114, 212n143, 212n148 256n111, 256n112, 258n117
115, 65n154 195, 100n16, 161n59, 187n7, 204n98,
117, 212n148 229n38, 288n134
118, 255n102 196, 258n117
122, 161n59 198, 190n27, 191n30, 248n65, 248n66
123, 212n145, 214n159 199, 134n140
125, 257n113 208, 258n118, 258n119, 259n120
127,  22n9 209, 134n140, 134n143, 135n154, 140n190,
132, 210n129 210n130
138, 190n24 V. Sinuthii 8, 91n128
139, 211n135, 212n141, 213n151 V. Thaisis, 176n115, 176n116
141, 230n43, 230n44, 230n45, 230n46 V. Theodorae, 73n35
141-5, 224n6 3, 78n62
142, 223n5, 225n14, 230n42 Vegetius, 2:5, 83n87
144, 212n141, 212n142, 213n151 Verus, V. Eutropoii, 4, 209n123
148, 161n59 Vitae patrum, Fornication 1, 101n25
 Subject Index

Page numbers with ‘n’ are notes.

abandonment of monastic life, 41 apocryphal literature, 27, 170, 218

Abraham of Farshut, 75, 103–4 Apollo, 30–31
Abraham of Kashkar, 29, 35 Apollonius, 197–98
accounting for souls by leaders, 228–29 Apophthegmata Patrum, 8, 10, 32, 121
Adam and Eve, 1–2, 292–93 Arabic Life (V. Pach. Ar.) see under Lives of
admonition, 166, 167–68 Pachomius
Admonitions (Rabbula), 35 Aristotle, Rhetoric, 125, 128, 237
Aelius Theon, Progymnasmata, 120, 122, 138, 140 art, contemplation of, 176–77
Agamben, Giorgio, 7 Athanasius of Alexandria, 24, 49–50
‘agent detection’, 10 Festal Letter 39, 27
hyperactive agent detection device Letters to Virgins, 43, 44
(HADD), 150 Life of Antony, 32, 122, 257–58
Albinus, 241 emulation, 237
Ambrose, On Virgins, 44, 235–36, 238 oracular mode of Scripture, 142–43
Ammon, 42 on paraphrase, 120
Epistle of Ammon, 72, 123–24, 126 scriptural exercises, 140, 145
monastic discipline, 167 attentive listening, 122–24, 134
oracular mode of Scripture, 143 auditory revelations, 212
on Theodore’s cardiognosticism, 162 Augustine, 32
Ammonas admission of postulants, 37–38, 58, 69
Letters on attentive listening, 122
exercises in the fear of God, 182 emulation, 237
moral progress, 214 fear of God, 149, 160
techniques of prayer, 207–9 Homilies, 32
anchorites, defined, 21–22 On Christian Doctrine, 127
angelic speech, 26 on praising monastic founders, 250, 257–58
anthropology, cultural, 11–12 property renunciation, 81
Antirrheticus (Evagrius of Pontus), 16, 144 on rhetoric, 125
Antony Rule, 32, 149–50
and attentive listening, 122 scriptural exercises, 141
imitation, 238 Ausonius, 162
motivations for human action, 101 authority
oracular mode of Scripture, 142–43 demonstration of, 210–11
and Paul the Simple, 74, 76 pastoral, 5–7
on superiority of cenobitic life, 22 Awgin (Eugenius), 35
typologies of vocation, 62–63
Aphthonia, 45 Barsanuphius
Apocalypse of Shenoute, 214–15 condescension, 189
apocalyptic literature, 214–15 and Dorotheus, 50, 198–99, 200–1

341
342 Subject Index
Barsanuphius (cont.) Burrus, Virginia, 153
evaluation of, 32 Burton-Christie, D., 122
self-blame, 169
Barthes, Roland, 234 Caesarius of Arles, 54, 114
Basil of Caesarea, 33–35, 46, 47 calligraphy, 120–21
on children in monasteries, 56 Callinicus, Life of Hypatius, 59
on confession, 99n10 Canons (Shenoute), 23, 29, 259, 260,
entrance procedures, 62, 74, 76 262–64, 296
and fugitive slaves, 59 1, 262–63
habit, 95, 96 annual meetings, 227
and habitual sinners, 68n6 conflict/Shenoute’s vocation, 267–70
hazing, 76–77 on Pachomian Lives, 28
on married postulants, 52–53 rhetorical ekpathy, 129
monastic oaths, 82, 90 2, 88, 263
pressures from ecclesiastical authorities, 49 3, 263, 286
and Gregory Nazianzen, 33–35, 47, 110, 4, 263, 264, 270–78, 291
199, 249 fear of God, 177
Introductory Outline of Asceticism, 51 grief of Shenoute, 269
on literacy, 114, 118 monastic conflict, 283–84, 289
Long Rules, 23, 34, 52–53, 62, 227–28 rhetoric of ekpathy, 129
prayer, 203 5, 262n12, 263, 284
scriptural exercises, 111, 141 6, 260, 263, 264, 284–86
Short Rules, 23, 34, 104 7, 263, 266
on sin, 9 8, 262, 263, 264, 270, 278–82, 291
Bawit, monastery, 30–31, 140 9, 86, 87–88, 262, 263
beating see corporal punishment annual meetings, 227
Benedict, Ruth, 153 on children in monasteries, 55
Besa contemplation of art, 177
annual meetings, 226 duties of leaders, 230–32
attentive listening, 124 entrance procedures, investiture, 91
catechesis, 137 monastic oaths, 86–89
commemoration of Shenoute, 251–52 monastic rhetoric, 129–32, 138, 223, 264–67
entrance procedures self-blame, 168–69
on children in monasteries, 55 sexual activity, 195–97
renunciation of property, 80–81 weeping, 231, 268
keeping monastic oaths, 90 cardiognosticism, 159, 161–62, 167–68, 234
on monastic care, 2n10 Carruthers, M., 214
monastic discipline, 156 Cassian, John, 21–22, 23, 31
monks turning bad, 289–90 on cenobitic life, 242
rhetoric style, 133 cognitive disciplines, 105
scribes, 121 Conferences, 51, 53, 146–47, 246
on Shenoute’s rhetoric, 133 on entrance procedures, 61–64, 73,
writings, 30, 45 79, 91, 94
Bitton-Ashkelony, Brouria, 107 on literacy, 119–20
blame, 129 and manifestation of thoughts, 99
self-, 168–69 metakinetic states, 209
blasphemy, 206–7 on Pinufius, 54, 239
Bloch, Maurice, 11 scribes, 120
Boddy, Janice, 265, 288 scriptural exercises, 145
Book of Governors (Thomas of Marga), 36 Catecheses (Horsiesius), 135–37, 138
Bourdieu, Pierre, 93, 94, 154–55 catechesis, monastic, 134–39
Boyer, Pascal, 10 cells
Brakke, David, 102 inspection of, 160–61
Brown, Peter, 73 use in learning the fear of God, 175–76
Bucking, S., 116, 140 cenobites, defined, 21–22
 Subject Index 343
charisms, 75 costly ritual, 69–70, 94 see also renunciation of
clairvoyance, 159, 161–63 property
discernment, 68–69, 75, 101–2, 105, 275, counseling, 4–5 see also confession; manifestation
278–82, 297 of thoughts
and prayer, 198, 206–7 court, heavenly/divine see heavenly court
Chariton, 33 covenant see monastic oaths
children in monasteries, 54–58 Cribiore, R., 115, 146
and Shenoute dispute, 280 criminals, 60
Chitty, D.J., 194 curses
Chrysostom, John, 47–48 for breaking monastic oaths, 86
Comparison between a King and a Monk, and rhetoric of ekpathy, 130–31, 286
A, 46–47 and sexual activity, 196
On Compunction, 46–47 Cyril of Scythopolis, History of the Monks of
pressures from ecclesiastical authorities, 49 Palestine, 33
clairvoyance, 159, 161–63, 278 see also revelations Czachesz, Istvan, 150
Clement of Alexandria, Pedagogue, 125, 157
Climacus, John, Ladder of Divine Ascent, 60, 245 Dadīšō’, 114
cognitive activity, 4, 12–13 Dalmatius, 51–52
cognitive anthropology, 11–12 D’Andrade, Roy, 11
‘Cognitive Communities’, 12 Daniel of Scetis, 244–45
cognitive disciplines, 8–9, 15–17, 97–109, Davis, Stephen, 91
146–47, 294–96 De iudicio dei (Shenoute), 178
cognitive historiography, 12 death, fear of, 177–81
cognitive manifestations, 98–100 DeConick, A., 212
cognitive science, 10 demonic thoughts, Pachomius on, 102–3
Cognitive Science of Religion (CSR), 10–11, 150 Descarte, René, 296
cognitive theory, 12 desire, 196–97
cognitive typologies, 101–5 deterrence, 156
Cohen, Emma, 265 Dionysius Exiguus, 27n33
collective ritual, 221–23, 225–27, 231–32 discernment, 68–69, 75, 101–2, 105, 275,
commemoration of community founders, 278–82, 297
222–23, 247–59, 295–96 and prayer, 198, 206–7
commitment narratives, 62–66, 294 discipline see punishment
Comparison between a King and a Monk, A Discourses (Dorotheus), 33, 50, 242
(Chrysostom), 46–47 Discourses (Shenoute), 29, 292
concealed sanctity, 241–47 disobedience
conceptual blending theory, 10 and Adam and Eve, 1–2, 292–93 see also
conceptual metaphor theory, 10 obedience
condescension, 189–90 displacement principle, 265
Conferences (Cassian), 31, 119–20 divine court see heavenly court
on married postulants, 51 Dodds, E.R., 153
on Paphnutius, 246 Dorotheus of Gaza, 32–33, 50, 60, 119
scriptural exercises, 146–47 concealed sanctity, 242–43
confession, 6, 198 on conscience, 167
reverse, 232, 235, 242–43 see also manifestation on the fear of God, 181
of thoughts on guilt, 166
conscience, 104–5, 160, 167–68, 190–93, 295 and joy, 209–10
consciousness, 107 see also confession, reverse and porneia, 198–99, 200–1
Constantine, Epistula ad episcopos catholicos, rules, 188
148, 151 Dositheus, 60, 64, 75, 243
contemplation Douidouna, 198
of art, 176–77 Dumont, Louis, 7
of the majesties of the glory of God,
203–4 Ebonh, 224, 263, 267–70
corporal punishment, 16, 169–75 ekpathy, 127–33, 230, 268, 277, 288–90
344 Subject Index
elderly postulants, 54 Festal Letter39 (Athanasius), 27
Elm, Susanna, 42 fictional narratives of saints, 234
Emmel, Stephen, 262–63 First Greek Life (V. Pach. G1), see under Lives of
emotions, 10–17 Pachomius
and cognitive activity, 12–13see also Canons Fortunatianus, 117
(Shenoute); monastic rhetoric; Foucault, Michel, 6, 107, 197, 201
repentance, collective free choice, 193
Encomium to Theognius (Paul), 253–54 free will, 61, 101, 105, 193
entrance procedures, 37–38, 67–73, Cassian on, 61–62
94–96, 293–94 Horsiesius on, 66
hazing, 76–77 Pachomius on, 8
instruction in lifestyle/rule, 77–79 Theodore on, 65–66
investiture, 90–96 friendships, homosocial, 199–200
rejection/scrutiny, 73–76 Fulgentius, 74, 240–41
Ephrem, 175, 178 fusion principle, 265, 291
Epictetus, 107, 181
Epiphanius at Thebes, Monastery of, 30 Geertz, Clifford, 11
Epistle of Ammon (Ep.Am.), 40, 123–24, 126 Gerontius, 45
oracular mode of Scripture, 143 gestures in rhetoric, 131–33 see also posture
Epistles (Barsanuphius and John), 32, 50, 189 Goffman, Ervin, Asylums: Essays on the Social
Epistula ad episcopos catholicos (Constantine), 148 Situation of Mental Patients and Other
Eupraxia, 56–58, 77, 91 Inmates 92
Euro-American secular theory of mind, 14 Great Coptic Life (V. Pach. SBo), see under Lives
Euro-American supernaturalist theory of of Pachomius
mind, 14 Great Monastery, Mount Izla, 35
Eustathius, 33, 46, 93 Greek Lives (V. Pach. G2, G3, etc.), see under
Eustochium, 31, 42n20, 43, 45, 249 Lives of Pachomius
Evagrius of Pontus, 16, 184–85 Gregory Nazianzen, and Basil of Caesarea,
calligraphy, 120 33–35, 47, 110, 199, 249
eight thoughts, 102 guilt, and the fear of God, 153–54, 165–68
on the habit, 94
on manifestation of thoughts, 99n10 habit, 71, 90–96
and the oracular mode of Scripture, 144 tearing by Shenoute, 285–87
on prayer and Scripture, 106 habitus, 154–55
exercises, spiritual, 107 Hadot, Pierre, 107
exomologēsis see confession hagiography, 233–35
expulsion, 228, 266, 292 commemoration, 247–57
Pachomius, 287–88 imitation, 235–47
Shenoute, 275, 276, 279, 282, 283–84 hatred/love, and Shenoute, 271–72, 276
hazing, 76–77
false belief test, 13 heart-pain, 230, 270, 289, 290–91
families, in monastic life, 51–52 heart-work, 15, 108, 293
father-son groups see families and Scripture, 112–13 see also repentance
Fauconnier, G., 10 hearts of darkness, 273, 291
Faustus, 250, 253, 255–56 heavenly court, 15
fear of death, 177–81 and fear of God, 152, 158–59, 168–69,
fear of God, 15–16, 105–9, 183–85, 295 172, 176–77
clairvoyance, 159, 161–63 and prayer, 187, 202, 212, 218
guilt, 165–68 Hermeneumata, 122
image/discipline/practice, 152–58 Hilary of Arles, 32, 46, 132–33, 163
individual exercises in, 175–81 Hirschkind, Charles, 112, 126, 141
pain and corporal punishment, 169–75 Historia Monachorum, 46, 241–42
repentance and prophylaxis, 181–83 History of the Monks of Egypt, hazing, 76
self-scrutiny, 159, 163–64 History of the Monks of Palestine (Cyril of
shame, 158–61 Scythopolis), 33
surveillance, 160–64 Homilies (Augustine), 32
 Subject Index 345
homosexuality see same-sex erotic activity manifestation of thoughts, 99
Honoratus, 31, 132–33, 163, 250, 253, 255–56 monastic oaths, 83
Horsiesius, 24–25 purity of heart/body, 266–67
attentive listening, 124 scriptural exercises, 140–41
Catecheses, 135–37, 138 vices/spirits/demonic thoughts, 102–3
on cell inspection, 160n53 Instructions (Theodore), 39–40, 292
commemoration of Pachomius, 258–59 annual meetings, 226
contemplation of the majesties of the glory of on attentive listening, 123
God, 203–4 conscience, 191, 193
duties of leaders, 228 entrance procedures, 67, 69, 70–71
entrance procedures, 39, 40–41, 66, 90, 95 and free will, 61
and imitation, 239–40 monastic oaths, 83–84
Instruction manifestation of thoughts, 99
friendships, 199–200 prayer, 187–88
prayer, 186, 206 repentance, 229
self-blame, 168, 261 on vocation, 39
Letters, annual meetings, 226 intention, 12, 14, 141
on manifestation of thoughts, 99 internalisation
on prayer, 202 of the fear of God, 155
revelations, 210 of Scripture, 135, 140
revolt against, 129 Introductory Outline of Asceticism (Basil of
scriptural exercises, 112, 140 Caesarea), 51
Testament, 2, 25, 26 investiture, 90–96
fear of God, 105–6, 149, 164, 165–66 Isaac of Nineveh, Mystical Treatise 80,
on pastoral authority, 5–6 246–47
praise of Pachomius, 257 Isaiah of Scetis, 32, 164
rules of Pachomius, 187, 189
on scriptural exercises, 110, 139 Jacob of Nisibis, 35
and Theodore, 215 James, William, 65
humility, 241–47 Jeremias monastery (Saqqara), 31
Pinufius’, 240 Jerome, 23, 25, 31, 139
Silvanus’, 237 on God observing his thoughts, 175
Hypatius, 52 Letter 14, 48
on clairvoyance, 163 Letter 22, 31
on slaves, 59 and the Life of Pachomius, 27n33, 238
hyperactive agent detection device (HADD), 150 memorials, 249
on the Pachomians, 242
images/imagery on scribal activity, 121–22
in catechesis, 135–39 John the Archimandrite, 133
cultivation of, 213–14 John (brother of Pachomius), 36
and fear of God, 152–53, 157, 158, 165 John of Ephesus
Stoic, 181 Lives of the Eastern Saints, 36, 61, 97,
imagination, 247, 295 243–44
technologies of the, 108, 185, 202 on entrance procedures, 73, 74
imitation, 140, 235–47, 254–56 on hazing, 77
individual/individualism, 7 John, Mar, 243
initiation see entrance procedure Johnson, M., 10
Institutes (Cassian), 31, 119, 120, 242 Jones, A.H.M., 41
Instruction (Horsiesius) judgement
friendships, 199–200 divine, 157, 158
prayer, 186, 206 and admonition, 167–68
self-blame, 168 post-mortem, 150
instruction in lifestyle/rule, 77–79 Julian Saba, 35, 250, 252–53
Instructions (Pachomius), 26, 99 Justinian, 36
attentive listening, 124 Novel 5, 36, 37, 59, 72, 81
forgiveness, 226 Novel 123, 53
346 Subject Index
Kaster, Robert, 12–13 Lives of Pachomius, 222, 234
kinship language, 238 Arabic Life (V. Pach. Ar.), 92, 194, 195
Koinonia, 1, 2–3, 21, 22–23, 29n47, 225–26 First Greek Life (V. Pach. G1), 27, 51, 55
Krawiec, R., 119–20, 265 catechesis, 134
Krueger, Derek, 145, 242 emulation, 237–38
entrance procedures, 78, 84
laborers, 58–59 fear of God, 148
Ladder of Divine Ascent (Climacus), 60, 245 revelations, 218
Ladeuze, P., 194 scriptural exercises, 110
Lakoff, G., 10 Great Coptic Life (V. Pach. SBo), 27, 49,
Later Roman Empire, punishment in, 155–56 67, 233
Latopolis, Council of, 162 commemoration of Pachomius by
Lausiac History (Palladius), 3–4, 74, 241 Theodore, 248
hazing, 76 manifestation of thoughts, 99, 100
humility, 240 on monastic rhetoric, 126–27
on manifestation of thoughts, 99n10 on rejection of applicants, 68
Lawson, E.T., 10 sin and expulsion, 287–88
Layton, Bentley, 4, 22 on Theodore, 129, 215
Lenski, Noel, 46 Greek Lives (V. Pach. G2, G3, etc.), 216
Letter 14 (Jerome), 48 Sahidic Lives (V. Pach. S1, S2, etc.), 27, 186
Letter 22 (Jerome), 31, 44–45 on commemorating Pachomius, 251
Letter to Theodore (Chrysostom), 47 conscience, 192
Letters (Ammonas), 182, 207–9 five mental processes, 104–5
Letters (Horsiesius), 226 monastic oaths, 83, 84
Letters (Pachomius), 25, 26, 110 prayer, 203, 204–5, 207, 209
annual meetings, 225–26 Long Rules (Basil of Caesarea), 23, 34
disobedience, 292 categories of motivation, 62
Letters (Shenoute), 29 on marriage, 52–53
Letters (Theodore), 257 responsibilities of monastic leaders, 227–28
Leyser, Conrad, 23 love/hatred, and Shenoute, 271–72, 276
Life of Antony (Athanasius), 32, 122, 257–58 low-status postulants, 58–62
emulation, 237 Lubomierski, Nino, 249–50
oracular mode of Scripture, 142–43 Luhrmann, Tanya, 11, 12, 14, 108, 208, 213
Life of Daniel of Scetis, 244–45 Lundhaug, H., 138
Life of Dositheus (Dorotheus), 33, 243
Life of Eupraxia, 56–58, 77, 91 McCauley, R., 10
Life of Fulgentius, 74, 240–41 Macrina (Basil’s sister), 42
Life of Hypatius (Callinicus), 59 Malley, Brian, 112
Life of Mary, 245–46 manifestation of thoughts, 98–100, 277, 294
Life of Onnophrius, 246 Marcella, 43
Life of Pelagia, 245 married postulants, 39, 51, 52–53
Life of Phib, 287 Martin, Luther, 12
Life and Repentance of Thais the Former Prostitute Mary (reformed prostitute), 245–46
(Thais), 175–76 Mary (sister of Pachomius), 36, 42, 49, 51, 64
Life of Shenoute, commemoration, 249–50 Matrona, 53–54
Life of Syncletica (Ps.-Athanasius), 43–44 Mauo/Maios, 195
Life of Theodora of Alexandria, 73, 77, 78–79 meditations, and the fear of death, 177–81
Life of Theognius (Paul of Elusa), 33 meetings, four yearly, 225–27, 231–32, 261–62
liminality, 92–93 Melania the Younger, 44, 45, 233
literacy/learning to read, 4, 111, 113–17, memorials see commemoration
118–22, 146 memorisation, 111, 114–15, 117–18, 123, 125, 134
Lives of the Eastern Saints (John of Ephesus), 36, men, single, 45–50
61, 97, 243–44 Menander Rhetor, 128
on entrance procedures, 73, 74 metacognition, 9, 97, 293, 296
on hazing, 77 metakinesis, 108, 208, 209
 Subject Index 347
mimesis see imitation entrance procedures, 22
mind, theory of see theory of mind on children in monasteries, 55
monastic discipline see discipline, monastic commitment, 65
monastic oaths, 82–90 on married postulants, 51
White Monastery federation, 266–67 pressures on single men, 47–48
monastic rhetoric, 124–27, 146 fear of God, 148, 151, 152, 183–85
catechesis, 134–39 clairvoyance, 161–62
rhetoric of ekpathy, 127–33, 268 corporal punishment, 173–74
monastic theory of mind, 15 discipline, 155
Morgain, R., 213 guilt, 165
Moses of Abydos, 30, 133, 140 post-mortem punishment, 169–70
motivations, 39–42 repentance/prophylaxis, 181–83
of single men, 45–50 free will, 8
single women, 42–45 imitation, 235, 236–37
Musionius, 107 Instructions, 26, 99
mysterium tremendum, 149 attentive listening, 124
Mystical Treatise 80 (Isaac of Nineveh), 246–47 on forgiveness, 226
mysticism, 212 manifestation of thoughts, 99
monastic oaths, 83
Nag Hammadi Library, 27 purity of heart/body, 266–67
Naumescu, Vlaud, 11 scriptural exercises, 140–41
neophytes, 189 on vices/spirits/demonic thoughts, 102–3
New Historicism, 12 Letters, 25, 26, 110, 292
Nilus of Ancyra, 34–35, 60–61, 64–65 annual meetings, 225–26
on Albinus, 241 and manifestation of thoughts, 98, 99
on homosocial friendships, 199 metacognition, 9
notaries, 121 and pastoral care, 5–6
Novel 5 (Justinian), 36, 37 prayer/monastic progress, 106–7, 209
entrance procedures, 59, 72, 81 condescension, 189–90
Novel 123 (Justinian), 53 and porneia, 194–95, 197–98
revelations, 210, 211, 214
oaths see monastic oath rules, 188
obedience, 7 scriptural exercises, 140–41
Adam and Eve, 292–93 attentive listening, 123, 124
imitation through, 254–56 rhetoric, 133
monastic oaths, 82–90 see also rules and Theodore, 217–18
olfaction, 212 vocation of, 63
omniscience, divine, 149–51, 163 pain, 153, 169–70
omologia, 85–86 heart-pain, 230, 270, 289, 290–91
On Christian Doctrine (Augustine), rhetoric, 127 self-infliction of, 174–75 see also discipline
On Compunction (Chrysostom), 46–47 Palamon, 24, 77–78
On the Sublime (Ps.-Longinus), 128, 138 Palladius
On Virgins (Ambrose), 44, 235–36, 238 Lausiac History, 3–4, 74, 241
oracular mode of Scripture, 142–44 on hazing, 76
ordinance of God, 228–29 panopticon
Origen divine, 159 see also omniscience, divine
controversy, 218 Paphnouti, 36, 48–49, 189–90, 217
on sin, 9n39, 160 Paphnutius, 8, 246
tripartite classification of cognition, 101 Paralipomena, 183–84
ostraca, 30, 86, 116, 140 paraphrase, 120
Otto, Rudolf, 149 pastoral authority, 5–7
pastoral responsibilities/duties, 227–32
Pachomius, 1–3, 23–24, 45–46, 118 Patlole, 161, 168, 191
catechesis, 134–35 patronage, 3, 7
cognitive typologies, 104–5, 190–91 Paul, Encomium to Theognius, 253–54
348 Subject Index
Paul of Elusa, 33 progymnasmata, 120
Paul the Simple, 74 Progymnasmata (Theon), 122
Paula, 31, 42n20 property, renunciation, 3
Pcol, 23n11, 28–29, 129, 224–25 prophylaxis, 181–83
commemoration of, 259 prosopopoeic mode of Scripture, 142, 144–46
entrance procedures, 86 prostitutes, reformed, 175–76, 245–46
Pecosh, 251 protreptic literature, 40, 44, 46–47
Pedagogue (Clement of Alexandria), 125, 157 by Hypatius, 52
Pelagia, 245 Introductory Outline of Asceticism, 51 see also
perception, 105, 202–3, 218–19, 295 monastic rhetoric
Petronius, 24–25, 51, 81 Ps.-Athanasius
Phib, 31, 287 Life of Syncletica, 43–44
Philostratus, 128 Ps.-Basil, 44
Philoxenus of Mabbug, 56, 61 Ps.-Libanius, 237
Phoibammon, monastery, 30, 56, 116 Ps.-Longinus, On the Sublime, 128, 138
Pinufius, 54, 239, 240 Psalms of David, 144–46, 200, 218
Plato, 128 Pshoi, 29, 259
Pliny, 83 entrance procedures, monastic oaths, 85, 86
Poemen, 125 punishment, 5n19, 152–58, 163, 167
porneia, 187 corporal, 12, 16, 157, 169–75
and prayer, 193–201 divine, 148, 155–56, 157–58, 175
Shenoute on, 281 of the Later Roman Empire, 155–56
possession, spirit, 264–65, 288, 291 post-mortem, 169–70, 174–75
Postumianus, 244 purity, 209
posture Pachomian, 83, 210, 286
in prayer, 205–6, 213 Shenoute, 88–89, 231, 261–62, 266–67, 289
in punishment, 163 see also gestures
prayer, 105–9, 186–87, 218–19, 294, 295 Quintilian
as cognitive discipline, 15–16 attentive listening, 123
and condescension, 189–90 on gestures in speaking, 131, 132
and conscience, 190–93 monastic rhetoric, 128, 138
Pachomian techniques of, 201–10 on paraphrase, 120
and porneia, 193–201 scriptural exercises, 140
and revelations, 210–15
Precepts, 25, 60 Rabbula, Admonitions, 35
fear of god, 163 rapture experiences, 213–14
on literacy/learning to read, 113, reason, 36, 128
114, 116–17 rebuke, 127, 129–31, 163, 164–69, 223–25, 229–30
on physical contact, 195 reformation
on preliminary entrance procedures, 70, method of, 229–30 see also repentance
71–72, 73, 74 rejection of postulants, 73–76
instruction in lifestyle/rule, 78 ‘relational access’, 14–15
investiture, 91 relevance theory, 112–13
renunciation of property, 79 remedial discipline, 157
prosopopoeic mode of Scripture, 145 Remission, 225
Precepts and Institutes, 25 renunciation of property, 45, 79–82
Precepts and Judgements, 25, 166 repentance, 27, 163, 181–83
Precepts and Laws, 25 collective, 31, 222, 260–62, 282–90, 296–97
pressures responsibilities of monastic leaders see pastoral
on married postulants, 52–53 responsibilities/duties
on single men, 45–50 responsories, 256, 286
on single women, 42–45 retribution, 155
progress revelations, 28, 170, 208, 210–15, 268–69, 278–82
monastic, 151 rhetoric
Theodore’s, 215–18 see also prayer meditations on the fear of death, 177–81
moral, 214 monastic see monastic rhetoric
 Subject Index 349
Rhetoric (Aristotle), 125, 128, 237 Seneca, 62, 177
rites of passage, 92–94 sententiae, 177–81
ritualisation, 157–58 separation from the community
Rosenwein, Barbara, 12 as entrance procedure, 92–93
Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 296–97 as punishment, 163, 171
Rufinus, 35 sermon audition, 141
‘rule of the angel’, 72 sexual temptation see porneia
Rule (Augustine), 32 shame, 158–59
fear of God, 149–50 Basil on the habit, 95
Rule of the Master, 23, 35, 264 and the fear of God, 152–55, 158–61
entrance procedures, 73 shaving of the head, 91–92
hazing, 77 Shenoute, 4, 29, 260–62
instruction in the lifestyle/rule, 78 cognitive typologies, 102
investiture, 92, 96 commemoration, 249–50, 251–52
on low-status postulants, 60 De iudicio dei, 178
monastic oaths, 89 Discourses, 29
on parental consent, 50 duties of leaders/rules, 228, 229, 230–32
property renunciation, 81 education, 119
on rejection of postulants, 74 fear of God, 156–57, 169, 171–73, 175
fear of God Letters, 29
corporal punishment, 171 on manifestation of thoughts, 100
guilt and discipline, 166 on monastic care, 2
surveillance, 160 monastic oaths, 84–85
heart-body-community trichotomy, 267 ritual of commemoration, 223–25
imitation, 238 scribal activity, 121
on manifestation of thoughts, 100 scriptural exercises, 106, 112, 146
scriptural exercises, 143–44 tonsure, 92
literacy, 114–15, 118 use of notaries, 121see also Canons
sin and expulsion, 288 Short Rules (Basil of Caesarea), 23, 34, 104
rules, 187–89 signaling, emotional, 70n15
Rules of Dadīšō’, 114 silence, 111
Rules for Virgins (Caesarius of Arles), 114 Silvanus, 55, 78, 84, 174, 236–37
sin, hidden, 277–82, 283
Sahidic Lives (V. Pach. S1, S2, etc.), see under sinners, admission as postulants, 68, 74
Lives of Pachomius situational belief, 183
salvation, 4 slaves, 59–60
Salvian, 93 social background see status
same-sex erotic activity, 196–97, 197n66 spirits, Pachomius on, 102–3
scribal activity, 120–22 status, 39–42
scriptural practice, 15–16, 105–9, 146–47, 294–95 and imitation, 239–40
exercises, 139–45 single men, 45–50
instruction, 113–24 single women, 42–45
monastic rhetoric, 124–27, 146 and vestments, 93–94
catechesis, 134–39 Stewart, Columba, 98
rhetoric of ekpathy, 127–33 Stoicism, 181
scrutiny Strauss, Claudia, 40
of postulants for entrance, 73–76 Sulpicius Severus, 58, 244
self-, 159, 163–64 ‘supernatural agents’, 10, 14
Second Letter to Virgins (Athanasius of surveillance, 160–64, 278
Alexandria), 43 reverse, 248
self, technologies of the, 107–8 Syncletica, 43–44, 45
self-blame, 168–69, 261
self-examination, 65 Tabennesi (monastery), 24
self-knowledge, 197 talking back, 144, 166, 206
self-scrutiny, 159, 163–64 Taves, A., 213
self-will, 200 Tawatha monastery, 32
350 Subject Index
technologies of the self, 107–8 Thomas of Marga, Book of Governors, 36
Testament (Horsiesius), 2, 25, 26 ‘three classes of humans’, 65
fear of God, 149, 164, 165–66 Timothy of Alexandria, 39
on pastoral authority, 5–6 tonsures, 91–92, 96
praise of Pachomius, 257 totalitarianism, 7
rules of Pachomius, 187 Turner, Victor, 93, 288, 289
scriptural exercises, 110, 139 typologies of vocation, Cassian’s, 62–64
tetrapharmakos, 177
Thais, Life and Repentance of Thais the Former van Gennep, Arnold
Prostitute, 175–76 The Rites of Passage, 92
thankfulness, 203, 211 vices, Pachomius on, 102–3
thanksgiving, 15, 187 vigils, 213
Theodora of Alexandria, 73 nighttime, 205–6, 295
fear of God, 148, 167–68, 173 virginity treatises, 44
hazing, 77 visions see revelations
instruction in the lifestyle/rule, 78–79 vocation, 39–42
and oracular mode of Scripture, 142 Shenoute’s, 268–70
Theodore, 24–27, 48–49, 118 typologies/commitment narratives, 62–66
on being a cenobitic leader, 221–22 vows see monastic oaths
commemoration of Pachomius, 222–25, voyeurism
247–49, 250–51, 254–55, 256–58 monastic, 149–50, 234–36, 242–43,
entrance procedures, 70–71, 83–84, 89–90, 94 245–46, 247–48
on abandonment of monastic life, 41
on free will, 61, 65–66 weeping, 230, 231, 268
parental opposition, 41, 48–50 and prayer, 208
fear of God, 106, 159, 161, 163–64 and rhetoric, 127, 131–33
and imitation, 236–37, 239 White Monastery federation, 28
Instructions, 39–40, 292 annual meetings, 226–27
annual meetings, 226 cell inspection, 160
on attentive listening, 123 commemoration of the founder, 259
commitment, 67 entrance procedures, 72, 74–75
conscience, 191, 193 instruction in the lifestyle/rule, 78
entrance procedures, 69, 70–71, 83–84 investiture, 92n133
prayer, 187–88 property renunciation, 79–80
repentance, 229 oath, 266–67
on vocation, 39 self-scrutiny, 164see also Shenoute
Letters, 257 wisdom, 105, 210–11
and manifestation of thoughts, 98–100 Wittgenstein, L., 183
pastoral responsibilities, 228–29 women
prayer/monastic progress, 202, 215–18 dressing as men, 244–45
and condescension, 189–90 single postulants, 42–45
and conscience, 191–93 vestments, 93
revelations, 210 White Monastery communities
scriptural exercises, 106, 145 and Canons 2, 263
on attentive listening, 123–24 entrance procedures, 75, 86
catechesis, 104, 135 manifestation of thoughts, 100
monastic rhetoric, 126, 127–28 Shenoute’s letters to, 276–77 see also
oracular mode of Scripture, 143, 144 Aphthonia; Eupraxia; Macrina;
on Scripture, 112 Marcella; Mary (reformed prostitute);
vocation of, 63–64 Mary (sister of Pachomius); Matrona;
Theodore of Alexandria, 37 Melania the Younger; Paula; Pelagia;
Theodoret of Cyrrhus, 55–56 Syncletica; Thais; Theodora of
Theognius, 253–54 Alexandria
Theon see Aelius Theon
Theophilus of Alexandria, 219 Zosimus, 245–46, 247
theory of mind, 12–15, 38, 234, 235, 293, 294 Zunshine, Lisa, 234