Godly Sorrow
THE FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY
In the fifth chapter of his Gospel, Luke retells the miraculous story of the Great Draught of Fishes. Peter and his companions have been laboring all night, toiling on the lake called Gennesaret. They have worked long and hard but with nothing to show for it. Seeing the empty boats, Jesus steps into one and asks Peter to push out a little into the lake, a better location from which he can teach the crowd gathered on the shore. After concluding his teaching, Jesus turns to Peter and says, "Launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught."
Of course, to a seasoned fisherman like Peter, Jesus' request totally naïve, absolutely pointless, and most certainly hopeless. Peter knows that catching fish in the deep waters is best done at night, not during the heat of the day! And, how does this itinerant teacher think he's going to have any success if a skilled fisherman like Peter has been failing for days.
"Master, we have toiled all the night and have taken nothing: nevertheless, at thy word, I will let down the net." So, he lets down the nets devoid of a solitary hope of catching a single fish. But let's remember who Peter is talking to... As soon as the nets enter the deep waters, a miracle takes place: "they enclosed a great multitude of fishes, so much that their nets began to break." The catch was so great that he needed the aid of a second boat which, in addition to Peter's, began to sink!
Yet, instead of rejoicing and throwing himself down at the Lord's fee and profusely thanking him, he says to Jesus, "Depart from me! For I am a sinful man." In this, we hear the cry of Isaiah, "Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!" In the presence of Jesus, Peter falls to his knees, completely undone. "I am a sinful man." This is a raw and honest confession of unworthiness before the Holy God: "he is a sinful man."
His natural impulse is to push Jesus away because he is convinced that he is beyond hope, beyond healing. "This teacher, prophet, whatever he is may be able to fill nets to the point of breaking, but there is nothing he can do about the sorrow and despair which has overcome me." For Peter, nothing and no one can save him, for he has resigned himself to hopelessness and is drowning in despair. He has been overtaken by the sin of dejection: the sin of ἀκηδία has taken hold.
Early and medieval Christian writers cautioned believers against the Seven Deadly Sins. Even today, most Christians could probably name most of them. However, the one sin considered the most deadly and complex – acedia – is now virtually unknown and little understood. In modern times acedia is usually translated as sloth which is typically understood as the sin of laziness. But, the early desert fathers, such as Evagrius Pontius, the 4th-century monk, and theologian, recognized acedia as a formidable foe to the spiritual life. But the early church understood the sin of acedia to not simply be laziness but, rather, dejection, which breeds within the soul a spiritual loathing and inner emptiness.
Acedia is a mysterious combination of sorrow, listlessness, withdrawal, and often over-activity. More than that, in Evagrian terms, acedia, with its angry and restless rejection of the highest good – knowledge of God – in favor of something else, is an expression of disordered love. Acedia is so disenchanted with one's state of being that it begins to loathe not only self but everything life has to offer. John Cassian, a student of Evagrius, writes:
"When this malicious demon [acedia] seizes our soul and darkens it completely, he prevents us from praying gladly, from reading Holy Scripture with profit and perseverance, and from being gentle and compassionate towards others. He instills a hatred of every kind of work... Undermining all the soul's salutary resolutions, weakening its persistence and constancy, he leaves it senseless and paralyzed, tied and bound by paralyzing thoughts."
And Evagrius himself writes that "the demon of dejection... corrupts the thoughts of those he enters by cutting off every pleasure of the soul and drying it up through dejection, for 'the bones of the dejected are dried up." Acedia poisons the heart and mind with discontent and snuffs out any desire for godliness and spiritual exercise.
The sin of dejection (acedia) most often springs from the twin root of anger and desire. From holding on to past anger that's still burning in the belly. Or from a desire for some gain that was never realized. Such as when a man has found that he has failed to secure or accomplish things he had hoped to. Such was Peter, a man who is a failure, a fisherman who can't catch a fish!
Anger and desire produce an unholy restlessness within the soul because anger is never pacified, and desire is never satisfied. Acedia turns in on its human subject, suffocating any positive aspect of desire for progressing in the spiritual life. This is why acedia, if not disrupted, always leads one away from Christ, away from all that is good and helpful: "Depart from me! For I am a sinful man."
Acedia produces a deathly sorrow, a worldly sorrow. It moves us to bear the sorrows of the world alone as if there were no Christ, tempting us to pause, slacken, or end our pilgrimage and tasks before God has completed them, and it is a sin unto death. But what is a sin unto death? A sin unto death causes the soul to atrophy and die because they inherently lead us further away from the truth, goodness, and beauty of God. And this is why the sin of dejection that festers from despair grows more and more reluctant to do the Father's will.
It is a sin, not so much of the mind, but of the heart, leading unto death. Voluntary and wilful despair will drive you to completely abandon all hope of apprehending a cure and, in the most tragic cases, to abandon all hope of ever climbing out of the pit of dejection. This is why Evagrius, Cassian, St. John Climacus, and the collective voice of the Christian church warn us that all ungodly sorrow and dejection must be resisted, as belonging to this world and being that which works death. It must be entirely expelled from our hearts like the spirit of fornication and covetousness and anger.
However, there is a sorrow that every Christian must embrace; it is a sorrow that comes from having the courage to soberly examine ourselves, to admit we have fallen into the clutches of acedia, despair, and dejection. St. Paul speaks of a Godly sorrow [which] brings repentance that leads to salvation without regret, but worldly sorrow brings death" (2 Cor 7:10). This kind of genuine repentance produces tears of sorrow, not worldly sorrow, but godly sorrow over our sin. The early monks, such as Evagrius, found tears to be a saving remedy for acedia.
First of all, our tears allow us – like King David and like Saint Peter – to be truly humble and recognize our need for a savior. In our tears, we confess that we cannot save ourselves. Like a child in the presence of its parents, we are crying out in our need. The Lord hears the cry of the poor and delights in those who are willing to become like little children. Secondly, tears unthaw our frozen hearts and allow us to feel again. They lead us out of our numbness and free us to be vulnerable and dependent: each falling tears carving out a notch in our stony hearts – a notch through which God's mercy can pour into our sin-sick soul. Hear the desert wisdom of Evagrius, who said, "Sadness is hard to bear, and acedia is hard to resist – but tears shed in God's presence are stronger than both." And sometimes, as we find in Psalm 42, our tears lead us into the presence of God: "As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night" (Ps 42:2-3).
Make no mistake, the sin of dejection and its accompanying despair, depression, and hopelessness are heavy, heavy burdens. They linger and gnaw, leaving one to think that things will never change. But things can change. Jesus can change you. For beloved, joy comes in the morning; hope replaces sorrow; grace purges sin. Have confidence in Christ and bring every sin to him dejection, despair, anger, hopelessness, and apathy. Humble your pride and let the grace and mercy of God heal your soul. Yes, the way of life is hard and the road narrow, but Christ is faithful; he will do it. There is nothing more important, more urgent than to turn from wickedness and live: a new day is dawning, right now, right here, for whom the gift of life is but a distant dream and whose food is the misery of hopelessness.
"And Jesus said unto Simon, Fear not, from henceforth thou shalt catch men. And when they had brought their ships to land, they forsook all and followed him." Thanks be to God that "Depart from me" is a prayer that Jesus refuses to answer. He does not depart from Peter but mercifully comes to him, full of grace, and says: "Fear not." What comfort, what solace! The Great Physician of the soul does not depart in the face of our sin but comes to us, absolves, and heals our wounds. Don't fear him; trust him. Do not reject his healing touch; fall into his embrace.
Beloved, may the sin of dejection cease to drive us from the source of healing but rather to godly sorrow, which is the first step towards life. And may grace breathe life into dead bones and resurrect a true and lasting hope within your hearts. Dear friends, hear the words of Jesus and return to the One who can heal: "come to me all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will refresh thee." Amen+
