No One Can Gaze on God Without Interruption

The Institutes, the Conferences and On the Incarnation

The Conferences, Conference 23

No One Can Gaze on God Without Interruption

For who, while he is “rescuing the poor from the hand of those too strong for him, the needy and the poor from those who rob him,” while he is “breaking the jaws of the wicked and snatching the prey from between their teeth,” can look with a calm mind on the glory of God’s majesty in the very act of stepping in? Who, while he gives support to the poor or welcomes with generous kindness the crowds who come to him, can contemplate the vastness of the happiness on high at the very moment when his anxious mind is perplexed over the needs of his brothers, and, while he is shaken by the troubles and cares of this present life, look forward to the state of the world to come with a heart raised above the stains of earth? That is why the blessed David, laying it down that this alone is good for a man, longs to cling to God without ceasing, and says: “It is good for me to cling to God, and to put my hope in the Lord.” And Ecclesiastes also declares that none of the saints can do this without fault, saying: “For there is not a righteous man on earth who does good and does not sin.”

For who, even if he were the chief of all righteous and holy men, could we ever think would so take hold of this chief good, while he is bound in the chains of this life, that he never ceases from contemplating God, and is never thought to be drawn away by earthly thoughts, even for a short time, from him who alone is good? Who has never given any thought to food, or to clothing, or to other bodily things? Who, when he is anxious about receiving the brothers, or moving to another place, or building his cell, has never wanted the help of other people? Who, when hard pressed by scarcity and want, has never come under this rebuke from the Lord: “Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on”?

We even assert with confidence that the apostle Paul himself, who outdid the toils of all the saints by the number of his sufferings, could not possibly fulfill this. He himself testifies to it before the disciples in the Acts of the Apostles: “You yourselves know that these hands served my needs and the needs of those who were with me.” And writing to the Thessalonians he testifies that he “worked in labor and weariness night and day.” Great rewards for his merits were prepared for this work. Yet his mind, however holy and sublime it was, could not help being drawn away at times from that heavenly contemplation by its attention to earthly labors. Then he saw himself enriched with such fruits of action, and on the other side he considered in his heart the good of meditation. He weighed, as it were, the profit of all these labors in one pan of the scales and the delights of contemplating God in the other. For a long time he adjusted the balance in his heart, while on one side the vast rewards of his labors delighted him, and on the other the longing for union with Christ and his unbroken company drew him to depart this life. At last, in his perplexity, he cries out: “What I will choose I do not know. For I am hard pressed between the two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary for your sake.”

So, though in many ways he preferred this excellent good to all the fruits of his preaching, he still submits himself for the sake of love, without which no one can gain the Lord. For the sake of those he had until then soothed and nourished with milk from the breasts of the Gospel, he does not refuse to be parted from Christ, which is bad for himself though useful for others. He is driven to choose this all the more by that boundless goodness of his, by which, for the salvation of his brothers, he is ready, if it were possible, to suffer even the final evil of being accursed. “For I could wish,” he says, “that I myself were accursed from Christ for the sake of my brothers, my kinsmen according to the flesh, who are Israelites.” That is: I could wish to be subject not only to punishment in time but even to everlasting punishment, if only all people, were it possible, might enjoy the fellowship of Christ; for I am sure that the salvation of all would be better for Christ and for me than my own. So, in order that the apostle might perfectly gain this chief good, that is, to enjoy the vision of God and to be joined to Christ without ceasing, he was ready to be parted from this body. For the body is feeble and held back by the many needs of its frailties, and it cannot help being separated from union with Christ. It is impossible for a mind harassed by such frequent cares, and hampered by such various and wearisome troubles, always to enjoy the vision of God.

For what aim of the saints can be so steady, what purpose so high, that the crafty plotter does not sometimes overthrow it? Who has haunted the depths of the desert and shunned dealings with all men so completely that he never stumbles through needless thoughts, and never falls away, by looking at things or by being busy with earthly tasks, from that contemplation of God which alone is truly good? Who could ever keep such fervor of spirit that wandering thoughts never at times carry him away from his attention to prayer, so that he falls suddenly from heavenly things to earthly ones? Which of us (to pass over other times of wandering), even at the very moment when he lifts his soul in prayer to God on high, does not fall into a kind of stupor, and even against his will offend in the very thing by which he hoped to win pardon for his sins? Who, I ask, is so alert and watchful that he never lets his mind wander from the meaning of Scripture while he is singing a psalm to God? Who is so intimate with God and so closely joined to him that he can congratulate himself on having kept, for a single day, the apostle’s rule that bids us pray without ceasing? To some people, caught up in grosser sins, all these things may seem trivial and altogether foreign to sin. But to those who know the value of perfection, even a great many very small matters become most serious.