ABSTRACT
While in Plato there may be a strong contrast between head and heart, and the real person is always identified more closely with the nous or intellect, so that the center of the human person is the head, other classical writers do not emphasize this contrast as much. Homer, for example, claims that one thinks and feels with one’s diaphragm (phrenes), and a similar view is found among other poets such as Hesiod and the tragedians, who uphold an undifferentiated view regarding personhood, as do Virgil and Lucretius. Aristotle, too, in contrast to Plato, sees the heart as the pivot of the entire human person, and the early Stoics, together with Cicero, tend to agree with him on this point. In the Old Testament, too, the term heart (leb, lebab) is normally used in an
all-embracing sense. It signifies not only the emotions, the feelings and the affections, but also the spiritual center of the human person. It is even the seat of thought and reason.1 The New Testament reflects the Semitic rather than the Platonist approach. After the incarnation, for example, Mary is said to have kept everything in her heart (Lk. 2.19) like a treasure (Mt. 6.21). Moreover, evil thoughts arise from the heart (Mk 7.21; Rom. 1.24), which is seen as the moral center of the human person, the determinant of action. Furthermore, as the inner person (Eph. 3.16-17), the heart signifies the center of the spiritual life of grace (Gal. 4.6). When the early ascetic writers speak of the human person, they are very
hesitant to break it up into various parts or members. Rather, the approach is biblical – even if at times there appears to be a tension between ‘Athens’ and ‘Jerusalem’ – and here their attitude resembles perhaps that of the Stoics.2 This implies a synthesis or even a Christ-centered ‘monism,’ in accordance with Paul’s nous Christou (in 1 Cor. 2.16) and kardia Christou (in Eph. 3.17), in contrast to any dualist notions. Writers with a stronger Platonist tendency,
such as Origen, Evagrius and Dionysius, tend to neglect the heart but as a result seem to lose the richness of Hebraic conceptions. This is not the case with John Climacus, who, in any case, as already indicated, has no rigidly defined doctrine of the human person. John’s writings enable us to identify a number of insights, which, together,
offer a comprehensive and anthropologically valid unity. For instance, John clearly perceives the way in which sin arises from thought, or even within the intellect itself, and through the heart reaches the body, but he has no mystical doctrine of the heart. At times, he seems to link the heart closely with the soul and even to identify the two:
At other times, John draws a subtle, though imprecise, distinction between heart and soul. The former has a more ‘tender,’ somewhat ‘lighter’ sense – if these are adequate words to describe the center of human consciousness – and its connotation is more religious, suggesting the concrete human person in relation to God. The latter is more philosophical, and suggests a somewhat shadowy existence, namely one’s natural faculties. However, the distinction is indeed subtle and in some passages kardia, psyche and even nous appear as almost synonymous and are used indiscriminately.4 In fact, already in the Septuagint, these terms are often interchangeable. Nevertheless, there seems to be no basic confusion between kardia and nous, despite their close connection. Abba John of Gaza, also known in Palestinian monastic circles as ‘the other geron’ in order to distinguish him from ‘the great geron’ Barsanuphius, writes: ‘To guard the heart means to keep sober and pure the intellect of the person at war [i.e., with the demons].’5 The distinction here implies that the preservation of the intellect’s soberness and purity is helpful for the guarding of the heart. It is perhaps the term psyche which is the least constant and concise in use,
being closely linked at times with nous and at other times with kardia. The ‘soul’ usually implies one’s entire ‘spiritual’ being in an abstract way, in contrast to one’s ‘bodily’ aspect. Still, John of the Ladder does not aim at defining exactly the constituent elements of the human person, but shows the
‘method’ by which one may act, by which one may struggle against the demons and acquire God’s grace. In this respect, the heart acquires an all-embracing significance, as distinct from the nous or the more abstract psyche. At any rate, there is a reciprocal relationship between body, intellect (and
even soul) and heart.6 Nous, logismos, kardia, soma, pathos are interactive aspects of personhood. Each of them, when integrated, leads to God. At the same time, the demons also use every possible way in order to tempt us. If we conquer them in the intellect, says John, they attack the body; and if we conquer them there, they try to enter the heart.7 The body influences the heart, and the heart in turn influences the body: ‘a joyful heart renders the body beautiful’ (Prov. 15.13).8 For Isaac the Syrian, the heart is the body; the heart is the central organ, the sense of senses, the intermediary between the psychic (psyche) and the physical (soma).9 In the fourteenth century, Gregory Palamas would refer to the heart as ‘the innermost body within the body.’10 At times, a clearer distinction is made in the Ladder between the various elements constituting the human person, especially between kardia and nous.11 It is a graver sin – in the sense that it is more difficult to overcome – to sin in the heart. Hence the intellect must guard the heart against all evil imaginings by bravely defending its entrance.12 The intellect is the ‘eye’ of the heart, there ruling as sovereign. In contrast to this visual dimension of the intellect, the heart’s function is more sacramental. As the unifying organ of the entire person, it must offer the human person to God. The first (nous) is in need of purification through ascetic struggle; the second (kardia), in its natural condition, merely awaits illumination through God’s grace.13
