The Mind as Upper Room: Furnished to Receive the Great Word

by St. Maximus the Confessor


Feast of St Maximus the Confessor

Anno Domini 2022, January 21

Question 3

In the Gospel, who is the man in the city carrying a jar of water (and why water?), to whom Christ sent the disciples, commanding them to find and follow him? And who is the master of the house? And why do the Evangelists keep silent regarding his name? And what is the great upper room furnished and prepared, in which the fearsome mystery of the divine supper is accomplished? [cf. Lk. 22:7-13 and Mk. 14:12-16]

 

Response

3.2. Not only did Scripture keep silent regarding the name of the man to whom the Savior sent the two disciples for the preparation of the Passover, but it also kept silent regarding the name of the city to which they were sent. According to my initial understanding, I take this to mean that the city signifies the sensible world, to which were sent—like disciples and forerunners of God the Word, preparing His mystical feast with human nature—the law of the First Testament and the law of the New Testament. Through practical philosophy, the former [i.e., the Old Testament] cleanses nature from every defilement, while the latter, through initiation into the mysteries of contemplation, cognitively elevates the intellect to kindred visions of intelligible realities. This is proven by the fact that the two disciples were Peter and John, for Peter is a symbol of ascetic practice, and John is a symbol of contemplation.

 

3.3. This is why it is fitting that the first man to meet them was the one carrying the jar of water, for this man in himself signifies all those who, through practical philosophy, carry the grace of the Spirit on the shoulders of the virtues, a grace that they preserve, as if in an earthenware jar, by means of the “mortification of the members of their body that are on the earth” (cf. Col. 3:5), and which through faith purifies them of defilement. After him, there is the second man, the “master of the house” (Lk. 22:11), who showed the disciples the furnished upper room. In himself he is an example of all those who in contemplation have furnished the height of their pure and noble minds with cognitive thoughts and doctrines, as if the mind were an upper room, furnished in a divinely fitting manner for the reception of the Great Word. The house signifies the settled state of piety, toward which the practical intellect progresses, striving after virtue. The master of the house, who dwells in it as if it were his by nature, is the intellect illumined by the divine light of mystical knowledge, which is why, together with the practical intellect [i.e., intellect oriented toward or engaged in ascetic practice], it is made worthy of the supernatural presence and feast of the Word and Savior.

 

3.4. Thus we are speaking of one man here but also of two, if, that is, the one who is described as carrying the jar of water is different from the one who is called the master of the house. Perhaps they are one, as I said, on account of the unity of human nature, but also two, on account of the division of this nature in terms of piety, that is, into those living the practical life and those living the contemplative life, who, once they are joined together by the Spirit, are called and made one by the Word.

 

3.5. [Some manuscripts subtitle this section as “A contemplation of the house”] If, however, someone wishes to take all that has been said and apply it to each and every particular man, he will not have gone outside the truth. From this point of view, the city is each particular soul, to which the principles of virtue and knowledge, like disciples of God the Word, are always being sent. The one who carries the jar of water signifies the way of life and thinking that patiently carries on the shoulders of self-control, without ever putting it down, the gift of faith received in baptism. The house is the condition and habit of the virtues, built up, as if from stones, from many different solid and virile manners of life and thought. The upper room is the broad and spacious mind with its suitability for knowledge, adorned with divine visions of mystical and ineffable doctrines. [cf. For similar interpretation of upper room, see Origen, Homilies on Jeremiah 19.13.4] The master of the house is the intellect that has been widened in light of the splendor of the virtuous house and by the sublimity, beauty, and grandeur of knowledge. It is in such an intellect that the Word wishes to indwell and to offer Himself for communion, together with His disciples—that is, with the primary spiritual notions of nature and time. For the true Passover is the passage of the Word to the human intellect, a passage in which the Word of God is mystically present and grants His fullness to all those who are worthy, by making them share in the good things that are proper to Him.

 

*Translated by Fr. Maximos Constas in St. Maximos the Confessor, On Difficulties in Sacred Scripture: The Responses to Thalassios (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2018), 100-103. Available for purchase at Eighth Day Books.

Share this Post on Your Preferred Platform

By Luke Taylor Gilstrap July 31, 2026
"What is it that has ordered the things of heaven and those of earth, the things which move through the air and those which move in the water; nay, rather the things which proceeded them: heaven and earth and the natures of fire and water? What is it that combined and arranged them...set them into motion and put them on their unceasing and unhindered course?..But who is the architect of these things? Or did not he who made them also bring them into being? We shall certainly not attribute such power to spontaneity." On the Orthodox Faith, Chapter 3 This comes after St. John of Damascus sets out to delineate between the created and the uncreated, a fact which, while at the core of existence, seems for him to be, for this very reason, the simplest to believe. Everything but God is created and, thus, susceptible to change. This means people, but this also means demons, angels, the rest of the created order across the entire cosmos. Everything is vulnerable to unrest. Except for God. If you have ever tried to explain the Holy Trinity to a child for the first time, maybe you have felt as I have the weightier, inexpressible side of God's unchangeability: how do I possibly communicate this essential fact to the person in front of me? (This is usually when my faint stutter starts to pop up again.) I like that here, like St. Patrick reaching for a three-leaf clover, St. John brings us back to earth to better understand the cosmos. Fire and water are no less mysteries than heaven and earth. And yet here we are, cooking and washing, eating and drinking, filled and sustained on what we can neither fully explain nor claim to have created. Only God is unchanging. Vice versa, God is the only constant we need. Maybe the rest is better left unsaid. LUKE TAYLOR GILSTRAP is Vice President of the Board of Directors for Eighth Day Institute. His poems have appeared in Spiritus, Ekstasis (Christianity Today), and Relief Journal, among others. He lives happily in Wichita, Kansas with his wife and three sons.
By Luke Taylor Gilstrap July 24, 2026
"Now, one who would speak or hear about God should know beyond any doubt that in what concerns theology and the Incarnation not all things are inexpressible and not all are capable of expression, and neither are all things unknowable nor are they all knowable. That which can be known is one thing, whereas that which can be said is another, just as it is one thing to speak and another to know. Furthermore, many of those things about God which are not clearly perceived cannot be fittingly described, so that we are obliged to express in human terms things which transcend the human order. Thus, for example, in speaking about God we attribute to Him sleep, anger, indifference, hands and feet, and the like." On the Orthodox Faith, Chapter 2 When I was studying Fiction in graduate school, one of the first methods I learned to really situate the reader in the story you were about to tell them was disorientation; if you wanted to ground them in one story, first you had pull the rug out from under their feet. So it's fitting that in the beginning of St. John Damascene's On the Orthodox Faith, before rebuilding our foundation, he first puts us squarely in limbo, seesawing back and forth between certainty and uncertainty. To paraphrase, there is no doubt (certainty) that about God some things can be expressed...but not all things (uncertainty). Some things about God are truly knowable (certainty), but some are unknowable (uncertainty). Oh, and while we're speaking about God (certainty), let's admit there's a gap, too, between what we say and what we know (uncertainty). My favorite line in this spiraling excerpt, "...it is one thing to speak, and another to know," takes me back to the final lines in Wendell Berry's poem, "How to Be a Poet," which he wrote primarily as a reminder to himself: Accept what comes from silence. Make the best you can of it. Of the little words that come out of the silence, like prayers prayed back to the one who prays, make a poem that does not disturb the silence from which it came. Wherever your preferences fall on the cataphatic or apophatic spectrum of theology (whether you lean more toward what we can say about God or what we cannot), Berry's poem, I think, would nod along with St. John: before we say too much, let our words be preserved by the silence from which they came. I'm thinking of the silence, that filling, restorative quiet I feel when I step into a cathedral or in some of my favorite moments with my kids in the early hours. Even before praying, can we hear the One already praying in us? ​​​​​​​Let's start there. LUKE TAYLOR GILSTRAP is Vice President of the Board of Directors for Eighth Day Institute. His poems have appeared in Spiritus, Ekstasis (Christianity Today), and Relief Journal, among others. He lives happily in Wichita, Kansas with his wife and three sons.
By Mark C. Watney July 20, 2026
Late-Night Bookstores and Spiritual Reading
By Sarah Orner July 20, 2026
On St. Benedict and the Making of Vows
By Luke Taylor Gilstrap July 20, 2026
The Pursuit of Truth in the Age of AI
By Michael Simmon July 20, 2026
On the Theology of Raising Chickens
By Luke Taylor Gilstrap July 20, 2026
G.K. Chesterton and Raising Small Children
By Fr. Mark Lovett June 9, 2026
"Seal of the Fathers"
By Luke Taylor Gilstrap June 9, 2026
In Memory of Warren Farha, 1955-2026
By Jeremy Wagner May 15, 2026
An Ode to St. Brendan the Voyager
More Posts