¹ Palladius, , The Lausiac History 18.12–16Google Scholar, trans. W. K. Lowther Clarke (New York: Macmillan, 1918), 81f. Robert T. Meyer's more recent translation (New York: Newman, 1964) renders Pachomius' closing comment differently: “Go away now to your own place, for you have stayed long enough with us. And pray for us, too” (63). But Clarke's translation is both more pungent and more accurate, for the Greek word oikodomeō truly means to edify. Meyer apparently takes it as a form of oikeō, to dwell. I have consulted Cuthbert Butlers edition of the Greek text, The Lausiac History of Palladius (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1904), 2:52f. This story is frequently retold. See, e.g., Chitty, Derwas J., The Desert a City (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1966; reprint ed., Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1995), 32fGoogle Scholar; Waddell, Helen, The Desert Fathers (New York: Vintage Spiritual Classics, 1998), 14fGoogle Scholar; “Stories of Saint Macarius the Younger,” Patron Saints Index, www.catholic-forum.com/saints/stm50001.htm. Its historicity, however, is suspect. Macarius the Alexandrian (or “the Younger”) was born c. 293, became a monk of Nitria at the age of 40, i.e., about the year 335, and died in 393 at the age of almost 100. His extraordinary feats of asceticism, as well as his somewhat perverse delight in having others know of them, is well documented. Pachomius was born c. 292, founded Taben-nisi c. 320, and died comparatively young in 346. This means that Macarius would have been in the monastic life for no more than about ten years when this encounter took place, and it is doubtful that his reputation would have spread as quickly as the story assumes. Macarius the Alexandrian is not to be confused with Macarius the Egyptian (ca. 300–390) of Scete, to whom the famous collection of Fifty Spiritual Homilies was incorrectly ascribed. (The real author of the latter now appears to have been an anonymous Syrian author who flourished from ca. 380–430.)

² Theologically, the term “edification” is exceedingly rich and resonant. Useful studies of its soteriological, ecclesiological, and eschatological significance include: Barth, Karl, Church Dogmatics IV.2, trans. Bromiley, G. W. (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1958), 62641Google Scholar; Minear, Paul S., Images of the Church in the New Testament (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1960), 164fGoogle Scholar; and Michel, Otto, oikeodomeō in Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, ed. Friedrich, Gerhard; trans. Bromiley, Geoffrey W. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1967), 5:136–48.Google Scholar These authors all emphasize that in its primary meaning, God is the one who upbuilds, whereas the church, as a corporate entity, is the primary object of edification. They admit that individuals, too, can be edified and do the edifying, but they insist that this is validly done only in an ecclesial context. Søren Kierkegaard, in contrast, tends to aim his so-called Edifying Discourses at individual “readers”–readers whose personal needs and interests he, the author, will never know. And however edifying his “discourses” may be for various readers, Kierkegaard insisted that they were not “sermons,” precisely because he was not an ordained minister of the church. Yet the contrast between Kierkegaard and the other commentators cited above need not be pushed too far, for as Paul Holmer has pointed out, “despite the violent controversy [in which he was embroiled with the State Church of Denmark], Kierkegaard was speaking from within the Christian community and not from without, as many assumed” (editor's introduction to Kierkegaard, Søren, Edifying Discourses: A Selection, ed. Holmer, Paul L., trans. David, F. and Swenson, Lillian Marvin [New York: Harper & Row, 1958], vii–x).Google Scholar

³ Lausiac History 18.1. There is no reason to doubt this: Palladius, who was probably a native of Galatia, lived from c. 365 to c. 425, and his three-year sojourn to the monasteries of Egypt began in 388. As noted in n.2 above, Macarius the Younger died in 393. He could not, however, have known Pachomius, who died nearly half a century before his visit to Egypt, but he apparently did meet several aged monks who had known Pachomius, and such other great figures from the first generation as Antony and Amoun. For details, see Chitty, 50–52.

⁴ Ibid., 18.14. Here I follow Meyer's translation, which brings out the element of vainglory in Macarius' fasting procedure a bit more clearly than Lowther's. The italics are added.

⁵ One is reminded here of Carly Simon's song, “You're So Vain” (1973), the chorus of which goes as follows: “You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you. You're so vain, I'll bet you think this song is about you. Don't you, don't you?” To her credit, Ms. Simon has steadfastly refused to reveal the identity of the person whom the song really was about. But one of the likeliest possibilities was her former paramour, Mick Jagger, who actually sang background vocals on it. For the complete lyrics of the song, the soundtrack, and a collection of the extensive lore it has generated over the years, see http://www.carly simon.com/vain/vain.htm. The difference is that Jagger (ifit was he) probably took great pleasure in thinking the song was about him, for glorying in his shame is his stock in trade, whereas Macarius had that peculiarly “Christian” sort of vanity that makes one eager for others to notice one's virtues and ashamed for them to notice one's vices–including vanity!

⁶ The corrosive effect of envy and jealousy on human character was well known to the Desert Fathers. See, e.g., the story told by John Cassian of the monk who was so envious of the holiness of Abba Paphnutius that he tried to frame him for a crime. (Conferences 18.15, trans. Luibheid, Colm [New York: Paulist, 1985], 196–201Google Scholar).

⁷ I would distinguish between the desire to be respected, which seems to me to be fundamental to the moral life, and the desire to be envied, which seems vicious. I suppose the desire to be admired or esteemed falls somewhere in between, depending on the moral worthiness of what one wants to be admired and esteemed for.

⁸ Compare the comment by Holmer: “Kierkegaard flatters his readers by supposing that they are willing and able to explore those needs and interests native to themselves. He seeks to address himself to the universally human in each of us” (viii).

⁹ Lausiac History 18.16.

¹⁰ One of his biographers tells us that he believed that “the beginning of the thought of love of command is ordination” (quoted in Chitty, 23).

¹¹ Lausiac History 18.1.

¹² These are the translations offered by Clarke, 82 and Meyer, 63, respectively.

¹³ Meyer, 63, translates this: “for having made my children knuckle down ….” Lovely as that way of putting it is, it is not quite correct. The subject of ekondulisas (second person singular aorist active form of kondulizō, to strike with a fist or, more literally, to throw a knuckle-punch) is Macarius, not the monks, as Meyers rendering has it.

¹⁴ Waddell, 15, ascribes this comment to Abbé Henri Brémond (18651933), the great French churchman and literary critic, but gives no bibliographical citation.

¹⁵ According to Waddell (15), “It is doubtful … that Palladius, who told [this] story, ever saw the point of it: for Palladius was a cheerful gossip, always ready to be impressed by the more obvious and picturesque activities of his elders,” but apparently unable to endure the rigors of desert life himself. She may be right that Palladius was a “faithful Boswell to the more austere saints, and a wholehearted admirer of virtues not his own,” but for that very reason I must disagree that he missed the point of this story. Indeed, much of the irony in the story is due precisely to the subtle details he adds, which I have here tried to catalog. The question, I think, is not whether Palladius saw the point of the story, but whether Macarius understood the irony of Pachomius's remark that he had edified the monks of Tabennisi “sufficiently.”

¹⁶ For the exegetical details of this distinction between the offices of the prophet and the apostle, see Michel, 140 and Barth, 634.

¹⁷ Paul does occasionally exhort his readers to “imitate” him (1 Cor 4:16, 11:1; Gal 4:12; Phil 3:17; 1 Thes 1:6; 2 Thes 3:7, 9; etc.), but only insofar as he is an imitator of Christ (1 Cor 11:1; cf. Eph 5:1). Moreover, he is quite express about acknowledging that he is the “foremost of sinners” (1 Tm 1:15). Apostolic humility therefore consists in standing with his hearers as one who is in need of divine grace. I am reminded here of a very sad story that was told many years ago to my wife, shortly after she was appointed as pastor to a United Methodist church in rural Wisconsin. Her predecessor, it seems, was driving several members of the church youth group to some function in another town, when another motorist cut him off on the road. He, the pastor, swore and made an obscene gesture at the other driver, and then, turning to his young passengers, smiled and said, “See, pastors are human, too.” The refusal to draw attention to one's virtues is a sign of humility; the insistence on drawing attention to one's vices is not a sign of humility, but of egregious folly.

¹⁸ Coles, Robert, The Call of Stories: Teaching and the Moral Imagination (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1989), 203f.Google Scholar Coles is Professor of Psychiatry and Medical Humanities at Harvard Medical School, as well as Professor of Social Ethics at Harvard University. I hope it is clear from the context that I by no means wish to suggest that Harvard is any more to blame for being “beyond” concern for its students' moral character (and Christian faith) than most American colleges and universities today. Nor, indeed, do I wish to impugn the secular academy as a whole for this. I use this story simply to illustrate-indirectly!–what Christian higher education continues to see as its mission.

¹⁹ Coles, 204.