Life of Antony preface–16

You have entered on a good rivalry with the monks in Egypt, choosing either to equal them or even to surpass them in your training in virtue. For now there are monasteries among you too, and the name of monks is established among you. One would rightly praise this purpose; and may God bring it to completion in answer to your prayers. Since you have asked me also about the way of life of the blessed Antony, wishing to learn how he began his discipline, who he was before it, what kind of end his life had, and whether what is said about him is true, so that you may lead yourselves to emulate him, I received your command with great eagerness. For to me too it is a great gain merely to remember Antony; and I know that you too, when you have heard, will not only admire the man but will also wish to emulate his purpose; for the life of Antony is a sufficient pattern of discipline for monks. Do not disbelieve what you have heard about him from those who brought you the news; rather think that you have heard only a little from them; for they could hardly have told so much. Since I too, urged on by you, will write only a few of the things about him, as much as I can indicate in a letter, do not stop questioning those who sail from here. For perhaps, if each tells what he knows, the account of him will barely be worthy of him. When I received your letter, I wished to send for some of the monks, especially those who used to visit him most often, so that I might learn something more and write to you more fully; but since the sailing season was closing and the letter-carrier was in haste, I have hastened to write to your piety what I myself know (for I saw him often), and what I was able to learn from him, having followed him for no short time and poured water on his hands. Everywhere I have taken care for the truth, so that no one, hearing more …

Antony was an Egyptian by race, of well-born parents who possessed sufficient property; and since they were Christians, he too was brought up in a Christian way. As a child he was raised by his parents, knowing nothing besides them and the house. When he grew and became a boy and advanced in years, he would not consent to learn letters, wishing to be apart even from the company of other children; and all his desire was, as is written of Jacob, to live a plain life in his home. He used, however, to go with his parents to the Lord’s house; and neither as a child was he idle, nor as he grew older did he become contemptuous; but he was subject to his parents, and attending to the readings he kept within himself the benefit he drew from them. Nor again, though as a child he lived in moderate wealth, did he trouble his parents for varied and costly food, nor did he seek the pleasures it brings; he was content with whatever he found and sought nothing more.

After the death of his parents he was left alone with one very young sister; and being about eighteen or twenty years old, he took care of the house and of his sister. Not six months had passed since his parents’ death when, going as usual to the Lord’s house and collecting his thoughts, he reflected as he walked how the apostles left everything and followed the Savior; and how those in the Acts sold what they had and brought the money and laid it at the apostles’ feet for distribution to those in need; and what and how great a hope was laid up for them in heaven. Pondering these things, he entered the church; and it happened that the Gospel was then being read, and he heard the Lord saying to the rich man: “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and come, follow me, and you will have treasure in heaven.” Antony, as though he had received the memory of the saints from God, and as though the reading had been made for his sake, went out at once from the Lord’s house. The possessions he had from his forebears (three hundred arouras, fertile and very fine) he gave to the people of the village, so that they should not trouble him and his sister in anything at all. The rest …

And when he entered the Lord’s house again and heard the Lord saying in the Gospel, “Do not be anxious about tomorrow,” he could not bear to stay any longer, but went out and gave those things too to the poor. Entrusting his sister to well-known and faithful virgins, and giving her to a house of virgins to be brought up, he himself from then on devoted himself to discipline in front of his house, attending to himself and training himself with endurance. For there were not yet so many monasteries in Egypt, nor did any monk at all know the far desert; but each who wished to attend to himself practiced discipline alone, not far from his own village. There was then in the next village an old man who had practiced the solitary life from his youth. Antony saw him and emulated him in what was good; and at first he too began to stay in the places in front of the village. And from there, if he heard of some earnest person anywhere, he went out and sought him like a wise bee, and did not go back to his own place until he had seen him; and having received from him something like provisions for the road to virtue, he would return. Spending his beginnings there, he steadied his mind so as not to turn back to his parents’ things nor to remember his relatives, but to have all his longing and all his zeal for the intensity of discipline. He worked with his hands, having heard: “He who is idle, let him not eat”; and he spent part on bread and part on those in need. He prayed constantly, having learned that one must pray in private without ceasing. For he attended so carefully to the reading that nothing of what was written fell from him to the ground, but he retained everything, and thereafter his memory served him instead of books.

Leading himself in this way, Antony was loved by all. He himself submitted sincerely to the earnest men whom he visited, and learned for himself the particular strength of each in zeal and discipline. He observed the graciousness of one and the intensity in prayer of another; he noted the freedom from anger of one and the kindness of another; he paid attention to one as he kept vigil and to another as he loved study; he admired one for endurance, another for fasting and sleeping on the ground; he watched the gentleness of one and the long-suffering of another; and in all alike he marked the piety toward Christ and the love for one another. Filled in this way, he returned to his own place of discipline, thereafter gathering into himself what he had from each, and striving to show in himself the virtues of all. With those of his own age he was not competitive, except only that he should not appear second to them in what was better; and this he did in such a way as to grieve no one, but so that they too rejoiced over him. So all the people of the village, and the lovers of good with whom he was acquainted, seeing him thus, called him God-beloved, and welcomed him, some as a son, others as a brother.

But the devil, who hates what is good and is envious, could not bear to see such a purpose in a young man; and what he is accustomed to do, he set about doing against him too. First he tried to draw him away from his discipline, suggesting the memory of his possessions, care for his sister, the ties of family, love of money, love of glory, the varied pleasure of food, and the other relaxations of life, and finally the roughness of virtue and how great its labor is; and he suggested the weakness of the body and the length of time. In short, he raised a great dust-cloud of thoughts in his mind, wishing to cut him off from his right choice. But when the enemy saw himself weak against Antony’s purpose, and rather himself thrown down by his firmness, overturned by his great faith, and falling before Antony’s constant prayers, then, trusting in the weapons “in the navel of his belly” and boasting in them (for these are his first snares against the young), he attacked the young man, troubling him by night and so harassing him by day that even those who saw it perceived the struggle between the two. The one suggested filthy thoughts, the other overturned them by his prayers; the one tried to excite him, the other, as if blushing, fortified his body with faith, prayers, and fasts. The wretched devil even endured to take the form of a woman by night and to imitate her in every way, only to deceive Antony; but Antony, thinking of Christ and the nobility given through him, and considering the spiritual nature of the soul, quenched the coal of the enemy’s deceit. Again the enemy suggested the smoothness of pleasure; but Antony, like one angered and grieved, pondered the threat of the fire and the torment of the worm; and setting these against it, he passed through unharmed. All this happened to the shame of the enemy. For he who thought to become like God was now mocked by a youth; and he who boasted against flesh and blood was put to flight by a man who wore flesh. For the Lord worked with him, who took flesh for us and gave the body the victory over the devil …

At last, when the dragon could not overthrow Antony even in this, but saw himself thrust out of his heart, gnashing his teeth, as it is written, and as if beside himself, he appeared to him in imagination as a black boy, such as he is in mind. And as though falling down before him, he no longer attacked him with thoughts (for the crafty one had been cast out), but now using a human voice he said: “Many have I deceived, and very many have I overthrown; but now, having attacked you and your labors as I did many others, I have proved weak.” When Antony asked, “Who are you, that speak such things to me?” he at once uttered piteous cries: “I am the friend of sexual immorality; I have taken upon myself its snares and its incitements against the young, and I am called the spirit of sexual immorality. How many who wished to be chaste have I deceived! How many who practiced self-control have I won over by inciting them! I am the one on whose account the prophet blames the fallen, saying, ‘You were led astray by a spirit of sexual immorality’; for it was through me that they were tripped up. I am the one who troubled you so often and was so often overthrown by you.” Antony gave thanks to the Lord, and, taking courage against him, said to him: “You are very contemptible, then; for you are black in mind and weak as a child. I have no further care about you; for the Lord is my helper, and I shall look upon my enemies.” Hearing this, the black one at once fled, cowering at the words, and afraid even to come near the man.

This was Antony’s first contest against the devil; or rather, this success in Antony was the Savior’s, who “condemned sin in the flesh, so that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.” But neither did Antony, now that the demon had fallen, grow careless thereafter and neglect himself, nor did the enemy, as one defeated, stop lying in wait. For he went about again like a lion, seeking some occasion against him. Antony, having learned from the Scriptures that the wiles of the enemy are many, practiced his discipline intensely, reckoning that even if the enemy had not been able to deceive his heart with bodily pleasure, he would certainly try to ensnare him by some other method; for the demon loves sin. So more and more he mortified his body and kept it in subjection, lest, having conquered in some things, he should be dragged down in others. He resolved, therefore, to accustom himself to a harsher way of life. Many marveled, but he bore the labor easily; for the eagerness of his soul, persisting for a long time, produced a good habit in him, so that even when he took only a slight occasion from others, he showed great zeal for it. He kept vigil so much that he often passed the whole night without sleep; and since he did this not once but very often, he was admired. He ate once a day, after sunset; sometimes he took food every two days, and often every four. His food was bread and salt, and his drink water only. Of meat and wine it is superfluous even to speak, since nothing of the kind was found even among the other earnest men. For sleep a rush mat was enough for him; for the most part he lay on the bare ground. He refused to anoint himself with oil, saying that it was more fitting for young men to pursue discipline eagerly and not to seek what relaxes the body, but to accustom it to labors, keeping in mind the Apostle’s saying: “When I am weak, then I am strong.” For he said that the vigor of the soul is strong when the pleasures of the body are weakened. And this reasoning of his was truly remarkable: he did not think it right to measure the way of virtue, or his withdrawal for its sake, by time, but by desire and choice. He himself did not keep count of the time that had passed; but each day, as though he were only beginning his discipline, he took greater pains to advance, constantly repeating to himself Paul’s saying: “Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead”; and remembering also the words of the prophet Elijah: “The Lord lives, before whom I stand today.” For he observed that in saying “today” Elijah was not measuring the time that had passed; but as though always making a beginning, he strove each day to present himself such as one ought to appear before God, pure in heart and ready to obey his will and no other. And he used to say to himself that the ascetic ought always to learn his own life from the conduct of the great Elijah, as in a mirror.

Bracing himself in this way, Antony went off to the tombs that lay far from the village; and having arranged with one of his acquaintances to bring him bread at intervals of many days, he entered one of the tombs, and when the other had shut the door on him, he remained alone inside. The enemy could not bear this, and feared that little by little Antony would fill the desert too with his discipline; so he came one night with a multitude of demons and beat him with such blows that he lay on the ground speechless from the torments. Antony affirmed that the pains were so severe that he could say that blows from human beings could never cause such torment. But by God’s providence (for the Lord does not overlook those who hope in him), the next day his acquaintance came, bringing him the bread; and opening the door and seeing him lying on the ground as if dead, he lifted him up, carried him to the Lord’s house in the village, and laid him on the ground. Many of his relatives and of the villagers sat around Antony as around a corpse. But about midnight Antony came to himself and woke, and when he saw them all asleep …

So he was carried back by the man, and with the door shut as usual he was again alone inside. He could not stand because of the blows, but he prayed lying down. And after his prayer he said with a shout: “Here I am, Antony; I do not flee from your blows. Even if you inflict more, nothing will separate me from the love of Christ.” Then he also sang: “Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear.” Such were the ascetic’s thoughts and words; but the enemy who hates the good, amazed that even after the blows Antony had dared to come back, called together his dogs and, bursting with rage, said: “You see that we have stopped him neither by the spirit of sexual immorality nor by blows; he is even bold against us. Let us attack him another way.” Forms for doing evil come easily to the devil. So in the night they made such a din that the whole place seemed to shake; and the demons, as though they had broken through the four walls of the little dwelling, seemed to come in through them, transformed into the appearance of beasts and creeping things. At once the place was filled with apparitions of lions, bears, leopards, bulls, snakes, asps, scorpions, and wolves; and each of them moved according to its own form. The lion roared, wanting to spring on him; the bull seemed about to gore; the snake crawled but did not reach him; the wolf rushed at him but was held back; and altogether the noises of all the apparitions together were terrible, and their fury fierce. Antony, scourged and goaded by them, felt still more terrible bodily pain; but he lay unshaken, all the more watchful in soul. He groaned because of the pain of his body, but, sober in mind and as if mocking them, he said: “If there were any power in you, it would have been enough for just one of you to come; but since the Lord has made you powerless, you try somehow to frighten me by your numbers. It is a sign of your weakness that you imitate the forms of irrational beasts.” And taking courage again he said: “If you are able, and have received power against me, do not delay, but attack; but if you are not able, why trouble yourselves in vain? For faith in our Lord is a seal and a wall of safety for us.” So after many attempts they gnashed their teeth against him, because they were making a mockery of themselves rather than of him.

But the Lord did not forget Antony’s struggle in this either, but came to help him. Looking up, he saw the roof as if opening, and a beam of light coming down to him. The demons suddenly vanished, the pain of his body ceased at once, and the building was whole again. Antony, perceiving the help, breathing more freely and relieved of his pains, entreated the vision that had appeared, saying: “Where were you? Why did you not appear at the beginning, to put an end to my pains?” And a voice came to him: “Antony, I was here, but I was waiting to see your contest. Since, then, you have endured and have not been defeated, I will always be your helper, and I will make your name known everywhere.” Hearing this, he got up and prayed; and he was so strengthened that he felt that he had more power in his body than he had before. He was then about thirty-five years old.

The next day he went out, still more eager for godliness, and coming to that old man he asked him to live in the desert with him. When the old man declined, because of his age and because there was not yet any such custom, Antony at once set out himself for the mountain. But again the enemy, seeing his zeal and wishing to hinder it, cast in his path the appearance of a large silver dish. Antony, understanding the craft of the hater of good, stood still, and looking at the dish he exposed the devil in it, saying: “Where does a dish come from in the desert? This road is not a trodden one, nor is there any trace of travelers here. If it had fallen, it could not have gone unnoticed, being so very large. Besides, the one who lost it would have turned back to look for it and found it, since the place is deserted. This is the devil’s craft. You will not hinder my eagerness by this, devil; let this go with you to destruction.” And as Antony said this, it vanished like smoke before fire.

Then again, as he went on, he saw not an apparition but real gold scattered in the road. Whether the enemy showed it to him, or some higher power was training the athlete and showing the devil that he did not care even for real wealth, Antony himself did not tell, nor do we know; we know only that what appeared was gold. Antony marveled at the quantity, but stepping over it as one steps over fire, he passed by without even turning, and even hurried on at a run, so as to hide the place from himself and lose sight of it. Intensifying his purpose more and more, he set out for the mountain. And finding on the far side of the river a deserted fort, full of creeping things because of the length of time it had been abandoned, he moved there and lived in it. The creeping things left at once, as though someone were chasing them; and he blocked up the entrance, laid up bread for six months (the Thebans do this, and often it keeps unharmed for a whole year), and, having water inside, went in as into an inner shrine and remained alone within, neither going out himself nor seeing any of those who came. So he continued a long time in this discipline, receiving bread only twice a year, let down from the roof.

Those of his acquaintances who came to him, since he did not allow them to enter, often spent days and nights outside, and they heard what sounded like crowds inside, making an uproar, banging, uttering pitiful cries and shouting: “Get away from what is ours! What have you to do with the desert? You will not withstand our attack.” At first those outside thought that there were some men fighting with him, who had got in to him by ladders; but when they peeped through a crack and saw no one, they reckoned that these were demons, and being afraid themselves they called to Antony. He heard them rather than paying attention to the demons; and coming near the door he urged the men to go away and not be afraid; for, he said, the demons create such apparitions against the fearful. “So seal yourselves and go away with courage, and let them mock themselves.” So they went away, fortified with the sign of the cross. He remained and suffered no harm from them; nor did he grow weary in the struggle; for the increase of the visions from above that came to him, and the weakness of his enemies, gave him great rest from his labors and prepared him for greater eagerness. For his acquaintances came constantly, thinking they would find him dead, and they heard him singing: “Let God arise, and let his enemies be scattered, and let those who hate him flee from his face. As smoke vanishes, let them vanish; as wax melts before the fire, so let … perish …”

For nearly twenty years he continued in this way, training himself alone, neither going out nor being seen with any regularity by anyone. After this, since many longed and wished to imitate his discipline, and other acquaintances came and broke down the door by force and pushed it in, Antony came out as though from an inner shrine, initiated into mysteries and filled with God; and then for the first time he appeared from the fort to those who came to him. When they saw him, they were amazed to see that his body was in the same condition as before, neither grown fat from lack of exercise nor wasted from fasting and fighting with demons; he was just as they had known him before his withdrawal. And the character of his soul was pure: it was neither shrunk by grief nor relaxed by pleasure, nor gripped by laughter or dejection. He was neither troubled at seeing the crowd, nor overjoyed at being greeted by so many; but he was entirely even, as one governed by reason and standing in his natural state. Through him the Lord healed many of those present who suffered in body, and cleansed others of demons. He gave Antony grace in speaking; and so he comforted many who were grieving and reconciled others who were at odds, urging everyone to prefer nothing in the world to the love of Christ. As he talked with them and urged them to remember the good things to come and the love for humanity that God has shown us, “who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all,” he persuaded many to choose the solitary life. And so from then on there came to be monasteries even in the mountains, and the desert …

When it became necessary for him to cross the canal of Arsinoe (he needed to visit the brothers), the canal was full of crocodiles. He simply prayed and went in, he and all who were with him, and they crossed unharmed. Returning to the monastery, he kept to the same holy and vigorous labors. By talking with them constantly he increased the eagerness of those who were already monks, and moved most of the others to love of the ascetic life; and quickly, as his word drew them, very many monasteries came into being, and he guided them all as a father.

One day, then, when he had gone out, and all the monks had come to him and asked to hear a word from him, he spoke to them in the Egyptian language as follows: “The Scriptures are sufficient for instruction; but it is good for us to encourage one another in the faith and to anoint one another with our words. So you, as children, bring to your father what you know; and I, as your elder in years, will share with you what I know and have experienced. Let this above all be the common zeal of all of us: having begun, not to give up, nor to lose heart in our labors, nor to say, ‘We have spent a long time in the ascetic life’; but rather, as though beginning each day, let us increase our eagerness. For the whole life of human beings is very short when measured against the ages to come, so that all our time is nothing compared with eternal life. Everything in the world is sold for what it is worth, and one exchanges like for like; but the promise of eternal life is bought for very little. For it is written: ‘The days of our life are seventy years, and if in strength, eighty years, and most of them are toil and trouble.’ When, then, we persevere in the ascetic life for the whole eighty years, or even a hundred, we shall not reign for an equal hundred years; instead of the hundred we shall reign for ages of ages. And having struggled on earth, we do not receive our inheritance on earth, but have the promises in heaven. And again, laying aside a corruptible body, we receive it back incorruptible.