The Yeast We Can Do
Dylan Pahman on Two Kinds of Leaven & Three Spiritual Disciplines
The metaphor of leaven has two opposite but related uses in Scripture. Jesus tells us that the kingdom of heaven is like leaven, which, when mixed with (or "hid in") flour, works its way through a whole lump of dough (Matt. 13:33). St. Paul, on the other hand, twice uses the metaphor of yeast as a warning. In one instance, he exhorts the Corinthians to cast out a sexually immoral man from among them, since he will corrupt (or has corrupted) the whole community (1 Cor. 5:4–6). Similarly, he cautions the Galatians against putting their faith in circumcision rather than in Christ (Gal. 5:3–9), for embracing this one error may hinder them from obeying the truth. Despite the opposite points made by Jesus and Paul, the basic meaning of the metaphor of the leaven is clear: little things often have big consequences.
Among Christians today, there is often shock when an elder, pastor, or prominent member of a congregation is exposed as an embezzler, adulterer, drug addict, or worse. Indeed, such a revelation is rightly called a scandal, because it creates a stumbling block in the way of the Christian life: those who are Christians become disheartened; those who are not dismiss Christianity on its basis.
"How could this happen?" we often ask when a scandal erupts. I propose that the metaphor of the leaven provides the answer. How can we prevent such scandals in the future? Again, I propose that the answer lies in the same metaphor: a little leaven works its way through the whole lump.
Bad Yeast
According to Evagrios the Solitary, one of the early Christian hermits of the Egyptian desert, our spiritual struggle can be summarized quite simply: it is because we have first failed to resist little temptations that we eventually fall to greater ones. Following John the Evangelist's warnings against succumbing to "the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" (1 John 2:16), Evagrios identifies three "frontline demons" in particular: gluttony, avarice, and seeking the esteem of others.
"All the other demons," he writes, "follow behind and in their turn attack those already wounded by the first three groups." Sexual promiscuity follows gluttony; anger follows a failed attempt to impress someone; and pride follows greed, since poverty, Solomon tells us, produces its opposite, humility. "In short," Evagrios concludes, "no one can fall into the power of any demon, unless he has been wounded by those of the frontline."
Whether or not we agree with Evagrios's delineation of the progression of sin in our lives, we can see that there is sense to the presumption that those who have succumbed to big temptations probably fell first to little ones. The sexually promiscuous person is likely someone who could never refrain from snacking every time he walked through the kitchen. The person with violent fits of temper has likely always been concerned to have everything his own way. The one who slanders others has probably dealt poorly with criticism of himself.
Parents can see the nature of this problem in their children. How often do phrases like "I'm starving!" or "Mine!" or "She called me a bad name!" lead to "He hit me!" or "She broke it!" or "I didn't get any!"
As adults, we often assume that we learned our lessons when we were young, but we may simply have become better at hiding our faults behind an aura of maturity. Well-written pretension is still seeking the esteem of others. Cutting in line on "Black Friday" is still avarice. Compulsive late-night snacking is still gluttony.
Indeed, many of us have fallen victim to one of the simplest childhood fantasies: that being a grown-up means doing whatever we want. And this is despite the fact that we teach our children that being an adult means precisely the opposite: cheerfully bearing responsibility and doing our duty, whether we want to or not.
Good Yeast
So what can we do about our tendency to fall into sinful habits? Thankfully, the principle of leaven applies in reverse: good yeast works its way through a lump of dough as well as bad. A good first step toward keeping our little bad habits in check is simply making ourselves aware of what they are, but even when we notice them, we may lack the necessary self-control to break them. And this, according to the ancient Church, is precisely where the spiritual disciplines come in. They are the leaven in a Christian way of life.
According to Evagrios, the heart of our problem lies in two faculties of our souls: the "incensive power" and desire. While the force of desire is readily understood, the notion of incensive power may be unfamiliar to many. This faculty might best be thought of as our fiery-heartedness, as that which spurs us toward some end. It is the same force at work in both anger and zeal, in both conviction and hard-heartedness.
We fall into the traps of the "frontline demons" when we let our desire and incensive power run wild and unrestrained. We thus need the kind of leaven that will work in our lives to control and direct these faculties toward godly ends. Evagrios knows precisely the sort of yeast that is needed and how it works: "the Physician of souls," he writes, "corrects our incensive power through acts of compassion [i.e., almsgiving], purifies the intellect through prayer, and through fasting withers desire." He is referring to the Sermon on the Mount, specifically Matthew 6, where Jesus instructs his disciples about how to give alms, to pray, and to fast. These things are the leaven that makes all the difference.
In fact, in the early Church, these three spiritual disciplines figured prominently in the lives of Christians as the way of light and life, as opposed to the way of darkness and death. Early Christians prayed the Lord's Prayer several times a day, fasted on Wednesdays and Fridays (and eventually all through Lent and Advent), and gave alms—that is, their time, resources, and energy—to help others as often as possible.
Evagrios tells us that almsgiving keeps our incensive power from pushing us into anger, bitterness, and dejection by releasing us from the power of material things that we would otherwise selfishly and stubbornly cling to. In fasting we deny our desires, thus keeping them in check. And through prayer we purify our minds, cleansing them from every earthly care by focusing them on God.
Through these disciplines, Christ graciously shapes us into his likeness. With this way of life, this habitus, established, little by little we gain ever-greater self-control to resist ever-greater temptations. The leaven of the three spiritual disciplines works its way through our whole lives, so that we may, in turn, be leaven to the world.
Dead Yeast
I would be remiss if I did not mention one last scriptural reference to yeast. In Luke 12:1, Jesus warns his disciples, "Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy." Spiritual disciplines are tools to be used for a goal. They must not be pursued as an end in themselves, or to gain the notice and admiration of others. When one practices them in that way, the disciplines become dead and impotent yeast within him, chilled by the coldness of his heart.
St. Moses the Ethiopian, another Egyptian desert father, puts the spiritual disciplines in their proper place: "they are to be rungs of a ladder up which [the heart] may climb to perfect charity." Indeed, he emphasizes that the immediate goal of the Christian on the road to the kingdom of God is purity of heart, and he warns us that "travelers who miss their way are still tiring themselves though they are walking no nearer to their destination."
Christ warns us not to perform acts of compassion to be seen by others; otherwise, we will forfeit our heavenly reward (Matt. 6:1). Thus, we ought not to be upset if someone interrupts us while we are praying, or offers us meat while we are fasting, or declines our helping hand. Instead, we should give others our attention, accept what is given to us, and respect the wishes of others. "The loss you incur by being irritated," teaches St. Moses, "outweighs the gain of fasting; dislike of your brother cannot be counterbalanced by reading the Bible. These practices . . . are all subordinate means to your chief aim, which is purity of heart, or charity."
A fact too often overlooked—or even denied—in our day is that true love is hard work. But according to the desert fathers, it is an attainable goal worth striving for. I believe that if more of us Christians would make a habit of the three spiritual disciplines, hiding them beneath the surface of our lives, we would hear of fewer scandals in the Church and encounter fewer scandals in our hearts. When properly understood, and when practiced with diligence and patience, these "rungs of the ladder of charity" will act in our hearts as yeast acts to leaven a whole lump of dough.
Dylan Pahman is a research fellow at the Acton Institute for the Study of Religion & Liberty, where he serves as executive editor of the Journal of Markets & Morality. He is the author of Foundations of a Free & Virtuous Society (Acton Institute, 2017).
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