The Other Meat: A Reflection on Abba Hyperechius 4

Today‘s reflection is a bit of a bridge in this series on the Sayings of the Desert, from themes revolving around sacred practices and spiritual disciplines to themes revolving around interpersonal relationships. In our minds, these don’t seem to be closely connected, but if the whole point of the disciplines is to train our hearts and minds to respond differently to our impulses, then it’s in our relationships that we should truly see their good fruit. Learning how to deal with the distractions of birdsong and wind when we’re meditating should help us deal with human interruptions and disturbances, curbing our appetites for food, drink, and sex should help us to manage impulses like anger and envy, and so on.

This link between practice and relationship is at the heart of today’s saying, from Abba Hyperechius:

[Abba Hyperechius] also said, ‘It is better to eat meat and drink wine and not to eat the flesh of one’s brethren through slander’ (Hyperechius 4).

The point here is pretty clear: Our disciplines have no benefit in and of themselves, but only inasmuch as they train us in living more faithfully in our relationships with God and each other. So if they aren’t making us less likely to fly off the handle when aggravated or gossip about our neighbour, we might as well not do them at all.

Here Hyperechius compares slander to devouring someone’s flesh. It’s a visceral image to be sure, but it’s one that’s surprisingly common in everyday speech. We say someone has a “biting sense of humour,” for example, and the word ‘sarcasm’ comes from a Greek word describing dogs ripping flesh with their teeth, and had taken on its metaphorical meaning even in late antiquity. It’s a particularly apt image because, so often when we are slandering or making fun of someone, we’re trying to make ourselves bigger in the process, as though we were feeding our ego on their self-worth and dignity.

The specific connection between fasting and how we treat others is also found in Scripture, most powerfully in Isaiah 58:

‘Why do we fast, but you do not see?
Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?’
Look, you serve your own interest on your fast-day,
and oppress all your workers.

Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist.
Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. …

Is not this the fast that I choose:
     to loose the bonds of injustice,
     to undo the thongs of the yoke,
     to let the oppressed go free,
     and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin? (Isaiah 58.3-7)

This passage is not rejecting fasting as a discipline, but pointing out the pointlessness of abstaining from food if you aren’t going to abstain from injustice and oppression too.

The same can be said for the prophetic critique of the sacrificial system: It wasn’t not saying sacrifices were bad, but pointing out the hypocrisy of performing the ceremonial aspects of the Law while neglecting its ethics. In Christianity, animal and grain sacrifices have been replaced by other sacrifices: of time and talent, and of giving generously to the poor and to the ministry of our churches. But the same rule applies here: It doesn’t matter how many hours you spend on parish council, or how many pies you bake for a bake sale, or even how many thousands of dollars you may give to charity, if you don’t treat people with grace, empathy, and in ways that honour their basic human dignity.

So then, as we keep this season when we give greater attention to disciplines and charity, may we all remember what the point of it all is and commit ourselves to avoiding gossip, slander, and all kinds of cruelty towards others, big and small. May we always keep the example of our Suffering Servant in mind: a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. (Isaiah 42.3)