Humphries distinguishes ascetic pneumatology from “doctrinal” pneumatology, focusing on the activity rather than the identity of the Holy Spirit, and sees the development of ascetic pneumatology as an avenue opened by the wrestling over the Holy Spirit in the fourth century. He emphasizes the freedom granted to fifth-century theologians once fourth-century theologians had established the Holy Spirit as divine: “For theologians like Cassian (d. c. 435), St Leo the Great (d. 461), and Prosper of Aquitaine (d. c. 463), the focus of pneumatology shifted because the divinity of the Spirit was no longer the most pressing question” (xiv).
Throughout the book, Humphries delineates various approaches to pneumatology that developed in the fifth and sixth centuries. Although his focus is the connection between John Cassian and Gregory the Great, particularly in their shared understanding of the Holy Spirit as reformer of desire, the author also introduces a number of other pneumatological innovations that developed during the same time period. One example is Prosper of Aquitaine who understood the Holy Spirit as reformer of the will (85–88).
The author delves into the controversy surrounding the theological underpinnings and textual sources employed at the Council of Orange in 529 (xv). Humphries offers a different approach from previous scholars on this council, contending that the pneumatology underlying decisions made at Orange did not hinge on the views espoused by the leader of the synod, Caesarius of Arles (d. 542): “In opposition to some scholarship, I argue that Orange's decrees do not depend on Caesarius's pneumatology, but rather, on two different groups of Augustinian theologians: one represented by Prosper and another represented by John Maxentius and the other Scythian monks. Both sources developed a pneumatology that answered questions about the reformation of desire” (xv).
What captured my interest the most was the Humphries's frequent inclusion of “the indwelling (of the Holy) Spirit” (3, 15, 20–25, 41, 51). The language of indwelling is extremely prominent in Macarius and I think this is something that Humphries should include in the discussion of Columba Stewart's study of Cassian (Cassian the Monk [New York: Oxford University Press, 1998]) in which Humphries points out similarities between Cassian and Evagrius. Humphries does give more consideration of Stewart's study of Cassian and the links to Macarius in a section in chapter 2, “Ecstatic Contemplation.” He writes, “During the ‘fiery prayer which can be neither seized nor expressed by the mouth of man,’ the mind ‘pours out to God wordless prayers for the purest vigor. These the Spirit itself makes to God with unutterable groans'” (52). Humphries recommends including “terms for illumination and fire as pneumatological terms” because “nearly every page of the Conferences dedicated to prayer makes a reference to the Holy Spirit” (52). Humphries gives a nod to Stewart's analysis of Cassian but he does not dialogue with Stewart's claims of similarities between Cassian and Macarius.
I found Humphries translation of apatheia in a figure such as Evagrius as “freedom from emotion” rather than the usual “freedom from passions” surprising. While perhaps non-academic readers might not be familiar with the language of the passions, it is not helpful to translate the concept as dealing with the emotions because Evagrius does not eliminate emotions altogether. Because Humphries focuses on the Holy Spirit as reformer of desire, he would do well to highlight the positive side of desire. If apatheia is understood as the elimination of emotion, then we must wonder how desire can be construed in a positive light. Macarius uses the terminology of pothos and eros, and as Golitzin notes, “See thus Macarius on the insatiable (akorestos) yearning (eros), love (agape), or longing (pothos) in I.21; and II.10.1–2, together with the endless appropriation of grace in II.8.6 and continual ‘stretching’ (epekteinesthai) in Great Letter 14.”
Humphries presents Cassian as a synthesizer of “other ascetic traditions” explaining that Cassian brings together the heart-centered (Macarius) and intellect-centered approaches (Evagrius). Humphries does not mention Irenée Hausherr as the originator of this tidy division between the heart and intellect, even though he does include content from Golitzin and Raasch, two authors who have thoroughly challenged Hausherr's analysis. According to Alexander Golitzin, “All in all, the differences in style, personality, and background are real enough, but do not point necessarily to the head versus heart distinction so favored by modern scholarship ever since Irenée Hausherr's famous article sixty years ago delineating the purported ‘schools’ of Eastern Christian spirituality, according to which schema Evagrius represented the ‘school of intellect’ and Macarius that of ‘feeling’; a taxonomy which is not a little—and, to my mind, suspiciously—reminiscent of the ‘intellective’ and ‘affective’ labels long applied to . . . Western Medieval writers” (“A Testimony to Christianity as Transfiguration: The Macarian Homilies and Orthodox Spirituality” in Orthodox and Wesleyan Spirituality, ed. S. T. Kimbrough [Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir's Seminary, 2002], 129–156).
Humphries has made a significant contribution to the study of Latin pneumatology in the fifth and sixth centuries. He thoroughly explores significant passages from the theologians of this era, and as a result, this volume will provide a very helpful guide for those who continue the exploration of Latin pneumatology beyond the “march towards and justification of the filioque” (xviii) and beyond the establishment of the Holy Spirit as consubstantial with the Father and Son. One weakness of the book is the neglect of Cassian as a bridge figure between East and West. Humphries chooses to focus on Latin Pneumatology, but there is considerable room for making connections to Eastern Pneumatology, not to mention Syrian Pneumatology. Perhaps Humphries will explore these connections in the future.
