Those Who Think Themselves Sinless Are Half-Blind

Suppose two men went together into some great house filled with a great many bundles, tools, and vessels. One of them sees clearly, with perfect sight. The other’s eyesight is clouded and dim. Would not the man whose dull sight kept him from seeing everything insist that there was nothing there but chests, beds, benches, tables, and whatever met the fingers of someone feeling his way rather than the eyes of someone looking? And would not the other, who searched out what was hidden with clear and bright eyes, declare that there were a great many very small articles there, things that could scarcely be counted? If they were ever gathered into a single pile, their number would equal, or perhaps exceed, the bulk of the few things the other man had felt. So it is with the saints, men who, if we may put it so, can see, and whose aim is the highest perfection. They shrewdly detect in themselves even those things which the gaze of our mind, darkened as it were, cannot see, and they condemn them very severely. To our carelessness it seems that they have not stained the whiteness of their body, which is like snow, with even the slightest spot of sin. Yet they seem to themselves to be covered with many stains if, I will not say any evil or idle thoughts creep in at the doors of their mind, but even if the recollection of a psalm that has to be said draws away the attention of the one kneeling at the time of prayer. [a]

For, they say, when we ask some great man, I will not say for our life and safety, but for some advantage or profit, we fasten all the attention of mind and body on him. We hang on his nod in trembling expectation, with no small dread that some foolish or unsuitable word might turn away the pity of the one who hears us. And again, when we are standing in the public square or in the courts of earthly judges, with our opponent standing against us, if in the middle of the prosecution and the trial we are overtaken by any coughing, or spitting, or laughing, or yawning, or sleep, how maliciously our ever-watchful opponent will stir up the severity of the judge to our harm! How much more, then, when we entreat him who knows all secrets, should we plead for the kindness of the Judge with earnest and anxious prayer, because of our imminent danger of everlasting death, especially since on the other side stands one who is both our crafty seducer and our accuser! And not without reason will a man be held guilty, not of a light sin but of a grievous fault of wickedness, if, when he pours out his prayer to God, he at once departs from his sight, as though from the eyes of someone who neither sees nor hears, and follows after the vanity of wicked thoughts.

But those who cover the eyes of their heart with a thick veil of sins, and, as the Savior says, “seeing do not see, and hearing do not hear or understand,” hardly notice, in the inmost depths of their heart, even those faults that are great and deadly. They cannot look with clear eyes at any deceitful thoughts, nor at those vague and secret desires that strike the mind with slight and subtle suggestions, nor at the captivity of their own soul. Always wandering among impure thoughts, they do not know how to be sorry when they are distracted from that meditation which matters above all else. Nor can they grieve that they have lost anything. For they open their mind to let in any thought they please, and they have nothing set before them to hold to as the chief thing or to desire by every means.