45. Afflict your flesh with hunger and vigils and apply yourself tirelessly to psalmody and prayer; then the sanctifying gift of self-restraint will descend upon you and bring you love.

St. Maximus the Confessor Four Hundred Centuries on Love: #45

It is at that moment when every day stands on the very verge of close; it is in the silence of the world, in the time between the whispering day and the hushing of the night. Here in these silent, solitary hours, one can go on a deep journey within, seeking a communion beyond the words. It's time for hunger and vigils, for psalmody and prayer—a time in which, longing for purity, the soul readily embraces the discipline of self-restraint.

Picture the ancient monastics, hidden into the desert, wanting to satisfy spiritual thirst not with water, but with the wine of divine presence. They realized that for this cup to be drunk in its fullness, it would be necessary to empty out everything else beforehand. And the hunger they had was not just privation to the body, it was a feast of the spirit. And the vigils they kept were not just warrings against sleep, they were being open to another dimension of the reality.

There is, however, in this deliberate act of self-affliction, a paradoxical gift; that of the sanctifying grace of self-restraint. It comes down gently, like the first rays of dawn to the dew-laden petals of a flower. It is a gift that does not come unbidden but a sweet fruit borne of labor and intention. In every psalm that is sung and in every whispered prayer, one's heart is tilled like a fertile ground prepared for sowing. Body is the discipline; soul is the harmony. A melody that touches the heavens, a statement of his earnestness. Love is the refrain and the response, both.

The love is no well but rather a great reservoir that fills in the spaces carved by restraint. A love that soars higher than short-term sensuous craving and finds fulfillment in something divine. It was patient and kind, bringing the silence of the night and the hunger of the body with the quiet certainty of one who knows that every sacrifice made in the name of love is a step closer to the embrace of the divine.

Let us then, in our own spiritual practice, find the courage to embrace this sanctifying gift. Let us afflict our flesh on purpose, not in and of itself but in preparation of the inner chamber of our hearts for a love profound and pure enough to transform the very essence of our being. For this is the only way that the heart is really prepared for love to come in; and in its coming, the heart is made whole, sanctified, set free anew.