Rozanov on Monasticism

The earth and sky never shine with such radiant splendor as after a thunderstorm, a tempest, or a pouring rain. And so it is in the songs of Homer: “we sense, both in the whole and the parts, the fresh, blooming youth of mankind” (Schelling). The whole world is filled with glorious harmony. Nowhere is there discord—neither in the life of nature nor in the life of man. Even misfortunes, even tears, fail to spoil the joyous feeling we get in reading Homer. They are nothing more than the play of light and shadow in a marvellously beautiful painting. All is divine, and all is human! The meaning of life is life itself, the enjoyment of its gifts . . .

But then came the Gospel. It revealed to the world a new meaning of life hitherto unknown to paganism. Before the eyes of the world a new beauty began to shine, before which the beauty of the world faded. Divine Wisdom, teaching people to live for death and to die for life, made its appearance in the world. The fire brought down to earth by the Savior burned up the old life and in its place kindled a new one . . .

In place of heroes carried away by wrestling, in place of merry guests crowned with myrtle and roses, in place of merry dance songs, there now appeared a different people, with different aspirations. There were no enchanting leafy groves, no serenely-flowing streams, no emerald sea, none of the charming landscapes of merry Hellas—no, it was the gruesome Egyptian deserts and caves that now attracted the gaze and attention of the whole world. Austere spiritual feats of abstinence, mortification of the flesh, terrible deprivations, tears of grief, constant prayer, the renunciation of the vain joys of the world—this is what inspired these new people . . .

From Father M. I. Khitrov’s Introduction to Rufinus’ translation of The Lives of the Hermit Fathers

Yes, there was, of course, a psychological basis for this sudden change, but there was no religious basis for it, i.e. one having to do with “eternity” and the “eternity” contained within itself. The whole of ancient civilization had deteriorated and worn out… People had fired and fired from the same gun so often that it had turned into a “sledge-hammer”; the grooves had grown smooth, the barrel had become uneven, the whole of the mechanism had worn out; and no one wanted to shoot any more, everyone was tired… The whole of it had been “deformed”…

Yesterday satiated, today satiated, always satiated in the past: but one must also go hungry, one wants to go hungry, to go hungry in a hygienic way. But these are phenomena, mental states, changes of being, life! There is no life where there are no changes, no pulse. And it was in the sense of “pulse” that repentance and fasting, the desert and prayer, were needed.

But, and I repeat, this is a phenomenon that never had the right to turn into a religion, one that contained nothing that could be the basis for a religion! That is the whole point. But then comes the question: where is “primordial truth,” and where is “original sin” — in the bright interaction with nature or in the “little clouds” of the human soul, which also exist, which have existed from time immemorial, and which break through the purest joy and what would seem to be the most peaceful rest?

As I am unable to provide a definite answer here, I shall say what I feel; although it may seem that I am always “defending paganism,” I too would single out, sit next to, and start talking to the girl Lermontov has described so well:

But entering not into the merry conversation, She sat there pensively alone, And God knows what plunged her young soul Into this melancholy reverie.

It is more interesting! And not only more interesting — it is better! Monastic beauty will always conquer what is physical, carnal, of the flesh, of the body: just as Raphael conquered Rubens… just as the “severe” Virgin-Astarte conquered the young, full-hipped, full-bosomed Venus.

In examining some Carthaginian coins, I was amazed to find Astarte-Tanit stamped on them. They are very rare coins, minted in the period of Caesar and Augustus, in Carthage itself, whereas the older Carthaginian coins were minted in the Sicilian colonies, and all had the picture of other gods on them. Not only was I surprised, I was astounded: on these coins, there was depicted the head of a present-day nun; not only did it have the features of an elderly and severe face of a “sanctimonious Mother Superior,” it was also covered with a kind of monastic cowl, a tight, ugly veil. The very style of a nun! Moreover, and to my horror, behind the head, there was a cross, a long Catholic-style cross… And yet this was a genuine pagan coin, minted completely outside the province of Christianity and dedicated to Astarte-Tanit, the “female half” of Moloch — in honor of whom, just as in honor of Moloch, they sacrificed children!

So this “melancholy” has existed from time immemorial. And the short-lived period of “paradise” had, of course, to give way to the “Fall.” Man’s soul, his soul itself, and not the circumstances of his life, was born with “a little cloud”… And we either see it, expect it, or remember it. In “Astarte-Moloch,” the ancients evidently considered this “little cloud” to be a part of the human soul, something eternal, something celestial: they saw this “little cloud” in the God-Creator Himself — or actually what they saw in Him was a whole “storm cloud,” “thunder and lightning”…

Of course, we can say nothing here to which there is a clear-cut yes or no. My final opinion is that everything must be done in moderation: both sorrow and joy must be measured — first to one its turn and its law and then to the other its turn and its law, without any “dictation of terms” by either and with man having complete freedom of choice.

Let us respect the monasteries; but let us also respect the man who never looks inside a monastery. Let us only say to him: “Brother, in your pleasures, be as handsome as a Hellene — never act like a swine” (the Christian way of having a good time). And to the monastery, let us say: “Don’t make up your face with the greasepaint of sorrow, don’t play us a tragedy when you have comedy in your heart”… [V.R.]

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Vasily Rozanov, Four Faces of Rozanov: Christianity, Sex, Jews and the Russian Revolution, trans. Spencer E. Roberts (New York: Philosophical Library, 1978), 62–64.