Abbot John’s Life as an Anchorite

If, then, anyone else delights in the hidden places of the desert, and would forget all human company, and say with Jeremiah, “I have not desired the day of man; you know it,” I confess that by the gift of God’s grace I too attained this, or at least tried to attain it. And so, by the Lord’s kind gift, I remember that I was often caught up into such an ecstasy that I forgot I was clothed with the burden of a weak body. My soul suddenly forgot all outward impressions and cut itself off entirely from all material things, so that neither my eyes nor my ears did their proper work. My soul was so filled with divine meditations and spiritual contemplations that often in the evening I did not know whether I had taken any food, and the next day I was quite unsure whether I had broken my fast the day before. [a]

For this reason a supply of food for seven days, that is, seven portions of biscuits, was set apart in a sort of hand basket and laid by on Saturday, so that there could be no doubt when supper had been missed. This plan also prevented another mistake caused by forgetfulness. When the number of biscuits was used up, it showed that the week had run its course and that the services of that same day had come round again, so that the festival and holy day and the services of the congregation could not escape the solitary’s notice. And even if that ecstasy of mind I have spoken of should happen to upset this arrangement, still the measure of the days’ work would show the number of the days and correct the mistake.

But I will pass over in silence the other advantages of the desert, for our business is not to treat of how many and how great they are, but rather of the aim of solitude and of the coenobium. Instead I will briefly explain the reasons why I chose to leave it, which you also wanted to know. In a short discourse I will touch on all those fruits of solitude I have mentioned, and show what greater advantages on the other side they ought to give way to.