"For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding weight of eternal glory, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are unseen. For the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are unseen are eternal" (2 Cor 4:17-18).
It is easy to endure sorrow, to advance in virtue, and to hope for eternal glory. What more could a man desire in a life where sorrow is unavoidable, virtue is difficult, and prosperity is insecure? The Apostle, without hesitation, ascribes the possession of such advantages in the present life to himself. "For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding weight of eternal glory."
Let us attend, then, to the means by which such advantages in life are obtained. How is affliction light, even for you who, by your own confession, are "troubled on every side," "perplexed," "persecuted," "cast down," and "always delivered unto death" while still living (2 Cor 4:8-11)? How does this affliction exceedingly increase your progress? How does it work for you a weight of eternal glory? They answer: "while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are unseen." The matter is this: we do not look at what is visible, but at what is invisible.
Therefore, not to look at what is visible, but to look at what is invisible, contains a powerful means against sorrow, for virtue, and for blessedness.
If, in determining a remedy, it is useful to turn to the beginning of the sickness, then it is not useless to observe this. The first and universal beginning of mankind's universal sickness, the beginning of every imperfection and misfortune, or, in other words, of every sin and punishment among men, is an erroneous thought of the mind and a disorderly decision of the will. It is the decision no longer to look at the invisible, but to look only at the visible. What else is called the fall of man, who even in the state of fall remains on his feet, unlike the serpent condemned to go upon its belly? What else, I say, is called man's fall, if not this? His mind, will, and activity turned away, declined, and fell from God to the creature, from the heavenly to the earthly, from the invisible to the visible.
Listen to how the book of Genesis describes this: "The woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes" (Gen 3:6). She ought to have looked more earnestly toward the invisible God, Who had commanded them not to eat of this tree. She ought to have looked into the invisible heaven, where eternal recompense had been prepared for the fulfillment of God's commandment. She ought to have looked toward death, not yet seen but already indicated, which would inevitably follow the transgression of the commandment. Instead of all that was invisible, the woman looked only at the visible beauty of the forbidden fruit. She gazed at it, ate, and drew her husband to the same eating. Thus, from passionate attention to the visible there were born sin, nakedness, exile, curse, labors, sorrows, sicknesses, death, and corruption.
Let us repeat what has been said. In determining a remedy, it is useful to turn to the beginning of the sickness. By blocking the source of evil, the spread of evil is stopped and its streams are dried up. Therefore, if the beginning of spiritual sicknesses in men, and the first source of every evil, has been found in this, that man ceased to look at the invisible and began to look only at the visible, then the conclusion is not difficult. It is natural to seek the healing and saving remedy against evil in ceasing to look at the visible, and in resolving to look chiefly at the invisible.
What was in the source also flows in the streams. Forgetfulness of the invisible and attachment to the visible were the beginning of evil in man. The same principle acted, and still acts, in the spread of evil among men. Some stubbornly refused to look toward the invisible God, and impiety was born. Others, through attachment to the visible, wished to have even a visible god. From this came idolatry and superstition. They despised the invisible part of their being, the soul, and looked only at the visible part of their constitution, the body. Instead of human life governed by reason and the law of the good, there appeared among men an animal life led by sensual lusts, and a beastly life carried away by unbridled fury.
A passionate and greedy gaze upon the visible, when unchecked in its direction, becomes a kind of evil-working power. From all visible objects, according to their difference, it extracts a different poison. This poison is the more terrible because it poisons the very one in whom it is formed. Thus men look at visible bodily beauty and fall into the frenzy of sensuality. They look at gold and other visible goods, and are infected with covetousness. They look at visible goods in the hands of others, and poison their own heart with envy. They look at their own visible advantages, and blind themselves with pride.
Thus, according to the expression of the Prophet Jeremiah, "death comes up through your windows" (Jer 9:21). That is, through the senses by which you communicate with the visible world, opened too widely through carelessness, and still more through attachment to the visible, sinful death enters the soul. What, then, must we do? Undoubtedly, we must more carefully close the windows through which death enters. That is, we must restrain the senses through which delusion and temptation enter the soul. Or, in the Apostle's words, we must "look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are unseen."
Do not rest your gaze upon visible beauty, and you will be preserved from the delusion of sensuality. Do not look at the glitter of wealth, whether it is yours or another's, and you will not be enslaved to covetousness or wounded by envy. Do not look at your visible advantages. Rather, strive to know the perfections required by your invisible being. Then you will not debase yourself by pride, but humility will exalt you. Do not sow seeds of corruption to the flesh, and you will reap eternal life from the Spirit. Passing by all that is visible, look unceasingly toward the invisible God. You will find grace in His sight, and you will be satisfied with the manifestation of His glory.
But someone will say: How can one not look at the visible, which stands before our eyes not only without our will, but even against our will? And how, on the contrary, can one look at the invisible, which is hidden from our sight?
To this, lest anyone truly be troubled by an imagined impossibility, we answer first that ordinary experience itself shows how one may not look at the visible. For example, a man immersed in thought does not notice what is happening around him. Or a man seized by sorrow finds that even what is nearest and previously pleasant becomes unwelcome and strange. Likewise, a man occupied with reverent meditation on the lofty mysteries of the invisible, or with pious sorrow according to God, enters deeply into these inward states. He becomes detached from everything external, so that pleasant things do not strongly attract him, and unpleasant things do not deeply strike him. He sees, yet does not look. He looks, yet does not fasten his gaze upon the visible. Therefore the apostolic word presents as the means of progress in good and as an aid to attaining blessedness, not simply contempt for the visible, but attention to the invisible: "while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are unseen."
Second, to be assured that one can look upon the invisible as though upon the visible, it is enough to remember this. Although God is the invisible Being in the highest degree, according to the Apostle's saying, "Who dwells in unapproachable light, Whom no man has seen or can see" (1 Tim 6:16), nevertheless Moses the seer of God "endured as seeing Him Who is invisible" (Heb 11:27), according to the same Apostle's testimony. And for all men, "His invisible things are clearly seen from the creation of the world, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead" (Rom 1:20). Thus the visible itself, when we do not look at it alone but strive to penetrate further, becomes a glass for contemplating the invisible.
Moreover, one may borrow from the Apostle a particular way to withdraw from the visible and cleave to the invisible. This way consists in meditating that "the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are unseen are eternal."
"The things which are seen are temporal." Why, then, look at the visible? What use is it to build on sand, to write on water, to chase the wind or a fleeing shadow? Why do the covetous, the ambitious, and the envious wish to swallow the whole world with insatiable eyes? Before they can be satisfied, the world will vanish. Before the world vanishes, they themselves will vanish from the world.
"The things which are seen are temporal." What if this immutable law of the visible is already showing its action upon what surrounds us? What if time steals from us what is pleasant and dear, and leaves behind a sense of deprivation, or even suffering? The same law of time that now attacks us with the weapon of sorrow will soon turn to deliver us from it. It is unreasonable to bind oneself with overly strong bonds of love to what is visible, which time may soon snatch away. It is no more prudent to make the burden of sorrow heavier over the visible thing that time has already snatched away.
"But the things which are unseen are eternal." Before eternity, one minute and the whole duration of time are equally imperceptible. What, then, is a minute of deprivation, followed by eternity's possession of the good? What is a minute of suffering, preparing one for eternity's enjoyment? What is a minute of struggle for virtue, awaited by eternity's recompense and glory?
"The things which are unseen are eternal." And, alas, in the vast realms of the invisible there is not only eternal possession of the good, but also eternal deprivation of the good. There is not only eternal enjoyment, but also eternal suffering. There is not only eternal recompense and glory, but also eternal reproach and shame. There is not only eternal light and eternal life, but also eternal fire and eternal death. In the brief present life, we pass through the visible and temporal as through a kind of vestibule of the invisible and eternal. Bodily death opens the door. If we have learned in good time to look with a faithful and unwavering eye upon the hidden path of the invisible, and have decisively directed our steps toward the eternal, death introduces us into the higher dwellings of light and life. But those blinded and weighed down by attachment to the visible it casts down into the dark abyss, into the dread vestibule of the second death.
Let us learn, sojourners of the visible world, while it is not too late. Let us learn how we must pass safely and with good hope along the brief path of temporal life. Let us learn what to leave unnoticed, so as to be protected from distraction, and where to turn our attentive and careful gaze. We must strive toward eternal glory, "while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are unseen. For the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are unseen are eternal."
THEOSIS