Photo by Kamchatka
Abba Poemen asked Abba Joseph, “Tell me how to become a monk.”
Abba Joseph replied, “If you want to find rest here below, and hereafter, in all circumstances say, Who am I? and do not judge anyone.”
Asked about how to become a monk, Abba Joseph replies, “If you want to find rest...” suggesting an equivalence: a monk is one who has sought and found rest—rest from the turmoil of life in the world, and in particular rest from the inner turmoil of the passions (apatheia).
The monk is one who seeks rest from his own programming, the pattern of ingrained reactivity by which he’s triggered. This rest is not the abolition of the passions—they may go dormant to some degree, for a time, but remain below the surface—rather, a monk finds peace in and through his inner turmoil, learning to deal wisely and gently with his conditioning over many years.
“If you want to find rest” also implies questions: Do you truly seek rest? Are you willing to do what it takes to find it?
Bernard of Clairvaux writes of sin as fundamentally arrogance, the attempt to claim for oneself a “glory” that belongs to God alone. Humility, by contrast, is more than content with the profound gift of peace God offers. Bernard addresses God in one of his sermons on the Song of Songs: “I wish for peace, I yearn for it and for nothing more. The man who is not satisfied with peace is not satisfied with you. For you are our peace, you have made us both one. To be reconciled with you, to be reconciled with myself, this is necessary for me, and it suffices. For whenever you set me in opposition to you, I become a burden to myself.” Most of us need to exhaust ourselves and crash, repeatedly, before discovering in our heart of hearts that this peace, this rest that surpasses understanding is all we really want.
Who is this “I” that would judge another? And by implication, who is this other, really, that I would judge?
Abba Joseph speaks of seeking rest both here and in the life to come. It’s striking that he thinks peace, a peace akin to that in heaven, is actually possible on earth. The way is simple and must be applied universally, “in all circumstances” without exception: “Say, Who am I? and do not judge anyone.”
There are not some occasions where judging would be the better way. No extenuating circumstances, no realpolitik conditions demanding we bracket the Gospel and act with violence from “necessity.” To apply the kind of not-judging Abba Joseph has in view is always the way. It involves two closely related steps: to ask, who is this “I” that would judge another? And by implication, who is this other, really, that I would judge?
Once the accuser and accused alike are seen through as fictions, fictions that arise together, a residue generated by the heat of our indignation, it becomes impossible to judge. It’s not so much a matter of willpower—we’re sorely tempted to pass judgment but manage by a heroic effort not to—but rather we ask deeply, Who am I?
Who is this I, right now, stirred up, accusatory, outraged? Is this really “me”? What causes the identification of these powerful feelings with me? That we are not our thoughts and that it is not for sinful thoughts that we are condemned but only for making use of them is a crucial teaching of the fathers.
The accused other, the converse of my own livid accuser, is likewise unreal, a drastic simplification, a stereotype and not an accurate intuition of a real human being. Asking the question “Who am I?” is critical to non-judgment because we judge precisely in order to establish a sense of self over and against another. We get a boost, a fleeting sense of empowerment—but it’s based on a mirage.
The ancient Desert Fathers saying reminds us of the expression made famous by the late Pope Francis, “Who am I to judge?” This carries the sense that I too am a weak, fallible human being so not in a position to judge. It still involves a comparison of oneself with another.
To ask in all circumstances, Who am I?, prevents the sense of self formed by judging from congealing into something solid. We are kept off-balance and make room for unknowing. We call into question the self that would judge, that would compare itself with another.
This article is adapted from Isaac Slater, OCSO’s new book, Do Not Judge Anyone: Desert Wisdom for a Polarized World (Liturgical Press, 2025).
