He handed her a silver piece as the price for committing sin. She accepted the price and said, "Let us go inside." When he went in, he sat down on the bed which was draped with precious covers and he invited her, saying, "If there is a more private chamber, let us go in there." She said, "There is one, but if it is people you are afraid of, no one ever enters this room; except, of course, for God, for there is no place that is hidden from the eyes of divinity." When the old man heard this, he said to her, "So you know there is a God?"When Thaïs answers in the affirmative, Paphnutius expresses amazement that her belief does not fill her with fear and regret with regard to the loss of her own soul, as well as those of the young men she has led to damnation. Overwhelmed by the monk's words, Thaïs bursts into tears and asks for a suitable penance which Paphnutius obligingly supplies. After publicly burning all her worldly goods, Thaïs is sealed into a monastic cell and when she asks the monk where she is to urinate he charitably responds, "In the cell, as you deserve." Thaïs accepts this, along with further humiliation, as her just deserts, but after three years Paphnutius himself becomes a little anxious and seeks advice from St. Antony. A vision soon follows indicating that Thaïs has been forgiven; she is removed from the cell and dies fifteen days later.5
I have brought you a half-dead little she-goat, recently snatched from the teeth of wolves. I hope that by your compassion its shelter will be insured, and that by your care, it will be cured, and that having cast aside the rough pelt of a goat, she will be clothed with the soft wool of the lamb.11More recently, Thaïs' story has given rise to a novel by Anatole France (1891), an opera by Massenet (1894), a Broadway play (1911), and a Hollywood film (1918).12 The first of these offers an extraordinary inversion of the prostitute's salvation at the hands of the monk. For France, the prostitute is the heroine, priestess of the life-affirming religion of love, and Paphnutius is the lascivious villain whose life-denying asceticism is both wrong-headed and a sham. In refusing Thaïs' love he loses his chance at a kind of existential salvation, a choice he regrets for the rest of his life.13 If much of France's highly original interpretation seems ludicrously anachronistic, he does raise a question that may have occurred to more than one reader, medieval as well as modern: just how pure are the motives of a monk who frequents a brothel? Is it not, in fact, possible that a secret lust has been deflected by the embarrassing perceptiveness of the whore who knows that there is no place God does not see? While no medieval version shares France's underlying conviction that belief in God is merely an illusion, the complex set of responses which the legend itself enables can be seen as one of the sources of its continuing fascination.
Because the light is come into the world and men loved darkness rather than the light: for their works were evil. For every one that doth evil hateth the light and cometh not to the light, that his works may not be reproved. But he that doth truth cometh to the light, that his works may be made manifest: because they are done in God.The NHC-poet's exposition of this passage skillfully elaborates the metaphors of light ("Criste that lufly lyght") and darkness ("syne that es gastely myrkness"), concluding with a vividly concrete simile of the robber who works in the dark:
These words lead directly into the tale, where the homily's thematic linkage with Paphnutius, who seeks ever a place more withdrawn from public sight, and Thaïs, who knows that God sees everywhere, soon becomes apparent.
He braydyth on the thefe that hatith lyght
And doith his robry on the [n]yght;
He dredith more man is syght
Tha[n] God is that seith al his plyght.15 resembles
man's
God's; sees; condition