Christian History Magazine Collection

Modern Christian hermits still look to him for inspiration, as did the entire Middle Ages, but today we hardly know him. What did the illiterate recluse, known as Antony of the Desert, do to earn such adulation?

by Mark Galli from Christian History magazine no. 64

Crossing the dry Egyptian desert, a band of philosophers finally arrived at the “inner mountain,” the monastic abode of a Christian named Antony. The skeptical scholars asked the illiterate old man to explain the inconsistencies of Christianity, and after they got started, they ridiculed some of its teachings—especially that God’s Son would die on a cross.

Antony, who spoke only Coptic (not Greek, the international language of the day), answered through an interpreter. He began by asking, “Which is better—to confess a cross, or to attribute acts of adultery and pederasty to those whom you call gods?” After questioning further the reasonableness of paganism, he moved to the central issue.

“And you, by your syllogisms and sophisms,” he continued, “do not convert people from Christianity to Hellenism, but we, by teaching faith in Christ, strip you of superstition…By your beautiful language, you do not impede the teaching of Christ, but we, calling on the name of Christ crucified, chase away the demons you fear as gods.”

A crowd of seekers stood by, waiting to see Antony, and among them were some men who were “suffering from demons.” Antony asked that the men be brought forward. He called on Christ, made the sign of the cross over them three times, and, according to one ancient account, “immediately the men stood and were sound, coming to their senses and giving thanks to God.”

The Greek philosophers were astonished, but Antony quickly said, “Why do you marvel at this? Is it not we who do it, but Christ, who does these things through those who believe in him.”

The philosophers then departed, embracing Antony as they left, saying they “had benefited from him.”

This story, and others like it, show that by the end of his life, the solitary Antony had gained a reputation across the Mediterranean world. Not only simple people but the sophisticated and mighty sought him out. His life and words inspired fellow Christians to greater devotion and, sometimes, moved pagans to convert. But it wasn’t his wisdom and eloquence that astounded people as much as his laser-like devotion to Christ.

This devotion expressed itself in a way that was as impressive to his age (as well as to Christian Europe for another 1,000 years) as it is strange and off-putting to us today. The way is called asceticism, or originally, “the discipline,” and the institution it created is called monasticism.

Although Antony is sometimes considered the founder of monasticism, he was not. But he put monasticism on the Christian map because of his extraordinary practice of monastic disciplines. In the novel and movie The Natural, baseball player Roy Hobbs longs to be “the best there ever was.” It terms of how early and medieval Christians understood the spiritual life, Antony was indeed considered the best there ever was.

Antony was born in A.D. 251, an “Egyptian by race” (all quotations are from Athansius’s The Life of Antony, from which the above account comes as well). Egypt was under Roman control and Christians were still subject to periodic bouts of persecution. But Egypt was also home to one of the most vibrant Christian communities in the empire and had already produced two of the church’s greatest minds—Clement and Origen. Consequently, many Egyptians of wealth and influence were finding their way into the church.

Such was the case with Antony’s parents, who were “well born and prosperous,” and who raised Antony in the faith; Antony regularly attended church with his parents.

Though he was not interested in learning how to read or speak anything but his native Coptic, early on he showed a keen interest in hearing Scripture read.

When Antony was between 18 and 20, two events took place that altered his life trajectory. First, both his parents died—how exactly, we don’t know, though plague is a likely candidate. Antony now found himself caring for “one quite young sister,” as well as the family estate of over 200 acres.

The second event took place about six months later. One Sunday, as Antony made his way to church, he was contemplating the biblical passage that described early Christians’ selling their possessions and giving everything to the poor (Acts 4:32-37). When he stepped into the church, the Gospel was being read, and Antony heard, “If you would be perfect, go and sell all that you have and give to the poor; and come follow me and you shall have treasure in heaven.”

Antony was startled—it was “as if the passage were read on his account.” He did not quibble nor hesitate, but obeyed as if it had indeed been spoken to him personally. He donated his family estate to his town (though historians are unclear as to which town that was), sold or gave away the rest of his possessions, put his sister into the care of a convent, and “devoted himself from then on to the discipline rather than the household.”

“The discipline” included a variety of practices, from constant prayer and working with one’s hands to severe fasts and sleep deprivation. He took up with a Christian hermit living in a neighboring village, and over the next several years visited many others: “He observed the graciousness of one, the eagerness for prayers in another; he took careful note of one’s freedom from anger and the human concern of another. … He admired one for patience, and another for fastings and sleeping on the ground. … He marked likewise, the piety toward Christ and the mutual love of them all.”

Mutual love, perhaps, but there was also in early monasticism a competitive spirit, in which monks sought to outdo one another in “the discipline.” This is where Antony shined; he aimed to “be second to none of them in moral improvements”:

“His watchfulness was such that he often passed the entire night without sleep, and doing this not once, but often, he inspired wonder. He ate once daily after sunset, but there were times when he received food every second and frequently even every fourth day. His food was bread and salt, and drinking he took only water. … A rush mat was sufficient to him for sleeping, but more regularly he lay on the bare ground.”

Antony believed, as did most Christians of his era, that “the soul’s intensity is strong when the pleasures of the body are weakened” A well-rested body, satiated with pleasure, and basking in the good things of life, becomes spiritually lazy. That is, no pain, no gain. Christians like Antony took literally the sayings of Jesus about the incompatibility of mammon and God, about earthly treasures being a stumbling block to heavenly joy, and so on. Not many took up the discipline as radically as did Antony, but even those who didn’t recognized the need to discipline the body and its desires, sticking to some physical and spiritual regimen.

Though Antony already impressed many of the townspeople, he remained unsatisfied with his progress. So he moved “some distance from the village,” entered a tomb, and had a friend, who agreed to supply him with bread, close the entrance.

It was here that Antony experienced some of his most horrific demonic attacks.