Today is the anniversary of the death of Blessed Fr. Cosmas of Grigoriou Monastery on Mt. Athos. He lived and worked for Christ in Zaire, Africa until his tragic death in 1989. May we have his prayers and blessing!

An excerpt from the Introduction to Apostle to Zaire: The Life and Legacy of Blessed Fr. Cosmas of Grigoriou (Source)

In every generation there are those few exceptional souls who rise out of the conventionality of social life to become pathfinders to the catholicity and otherworldliness of Christianity. Heroic and uncompromising, they imitate Abraham and become exiles and martyrs for Christ, following Him with loving exactness and mountain-moving faith. They “hate their life in this world” in order to keep it—and that of their neighbor’s—for eternity; and to successive generations they become models to imitate, witnessing, long after their departure, to the honour the Father bestows on those who serve Him.

Such a one was blessed Father Cosmas of Grigoriou, enlightener of Zaire.

A Model of Mission Work in this Age of Antichrist

From as early as eighteen years of age [Fr. Cosmas] received from God the call to work in His mission field. Possessed of a dynamic personality that “was inspired by a burning love for Christ, he did not want to live a conventional Christian life nor to be limited to some usual ecclesiastical career and service. He longed to offer himself entirely to God and his fellow man.” He sought not honors, for “his chief concern was with the salvation of men and the upbuilding of Orthodoxy in Zaire.” The beloved Cosmas was, in the words of the former Metropolitan Avgoustinos of Florina, “the trailblazer of a beautiful journey for our race.” He made Christ’s departing directive to “teach all nations” his point of departure from a life of compromise and port of entry for Orthodoxy in the sub-Saharan and the hearts of countless souls. Unlike the missionaries of heterodox confessions, he laid stress on both the first and second part of the Great Commission: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you.” His success, or rather faithfulness, in carrying out the first half of the Great Commission, was a direct result of his faithfulness and resolute determination to observe the second half, that is, to be exact in teaching them “to observe all things” that Christ has commanded us.

It could not be otherwise, for the African is neither as the contemporary European, worn out by centuries of dizzying ideologies and spent on a myriad of humanistic philosophies, nor as the typical American, quick to compromise and moderate things in order to achieve outward success. His noble, humble soul still inclines toward the other world and his simple, intuitive mind still has a healthy disposition for the noetic realm. A few months before his departure from this life, Father Cosmas visited the monastery of his repentance and spoke to the pilgrims there of this African nobility and their desire for authentic, ascetic Orthodoxy. Bishop Athanasios Yievtich, a close disciple of the great contemporary Church Father, Archimandrite Justin Popovich, was present and relates what Fr. Cosmas had to say:

They are people with a sensitivity and awareness of the inner world. Europeans usually underestimate them, but they are very mistaken. The soul of the African inclines toward mysticism and for this reason Orthodoxy has something to say to them and something to offer, but only authentic Orthodoxy— monastic, hagiorite Orthodoxy. For among the brethren of Africa, witchcraft and magic holds great sway, a real demonocracy. In Africa, I saw how true the Gospel of Christ is! Everything that He said about the possession of men by the demons, I saw first hand. However, the Living and True God is more powerful than Satan and all his servants. Let it be understood, however, that true missionary-apostolic work cannot be carried out in Africa if one does not decide to leave his bones there.”

And so in teaching the native Africans the entire Gospel of Christ and revealing to them the undistorted Image of the God-man and His Church, it was only to be expected that his self-offering would likewise be complete and unqualified. In his “unique, genuine and very useful” study on mission work, entitled Thoughts about Missionary Work from Experience, he lays out the cornerstone principle for all who would follow his example:

The missionary’s beginning is significant, however it is not the sum of the matter . . . The outset might be blessed or might become blessed at the end. What’s important is that the giving be true and total, without holding back, with a disposition to self-sacrifice and self-denial, and with the aim of leaving our bones among the natives . . .”

Fr. Cosmas’ grave. Located in Zaire, Africa.

Long before one leaves his bones on the mission field, however, he must have discarded his pride and vainglory first, if he wants the final offering to be fruitful. Thus, for Fr. Cosmas the true missionary, in order to attain the blessed end, must leave no room for jealousy or vainglory, but rather must understand all to be shared: “common the struggle, common the pain, and common the glory of the Church.” He must “offer an open heart, love and communicate with others, concern himself with his own problems without adding more, being attentive to what others are doing, without turning to the devil and causing division.” And carrying out his duty in humility, “the true missionary does not seek recognition for his work, neither from the natives nor from those abroad, for the testimony of his sound conscience and the witness of his spiritual father and co-workers is sufficient for him.”

About the Book

Apostle to Zaire is the story of the life and legacy of a man who was chosen by God from the young age of 18 to be the Enlightener of Zaire. In the first part of the book, we encounter the life, last days, letters and the writings of Fr. Cosmas–an Athonite ascetic, a modern model of mission, an apostle to the heart of Africa. In part two, we read accounts of miracles and the battle with magic, interventions of the Saints and conversions of sinners, missionary adventures and baptismal testimonies. This a unique biography of a contemporary missionary and a practical introduction to Orthodox mission work.

To read excerpts from the book featuring Fr. Cosmas’ letters, see here.

You can purchase the book through Amazon or from St. Anthony’s Monastery.

Once, on the feast of St. Anthony the Great, during the years St. Gregory Palamas lived in Thessaloniki, he decided not to attend the “panigiri” (feast) at the church of St. Anthony on account of the crowds. Instead he stayed in his cell and prayed alone. (If you’ve ever been to a panigiri in Greece you know how crazy the crowds can be). While he was praying St. Anthony the Great appeared to him and admonished him for not attending his church in Thessaloniki. So St. Gregory got up and went.

Today, located in the same place the church of St. Anthony was in St. Gregory’s time, the newer (18th century) church of St. Anthony was jam packed with people there to honour, remember, and receive the blessing of St. Anthony, the father of monasticism. I took the above photo from the narthex (gives you an idea of the crowd). The video below is from the vespers service last night.

(To read more about St. Anthony and see his life in icons, go here.)

O Father Anthony, you imitated the zealous Elijah.

You followed the straight paths of the Baptist

and became a desert dweller.

By prayer you confirmed the universe.

Wherefore, intercede with Christ our God to save our souls.

The saint’s kolyva

The church of St. John Chrysostom, Thessaloniki.

(Source)

The memory of this illuminary of the Church is celebrated on November 13 and January 30 but, on this date, the Church celebrates the translation of his honorable relics from the Armenian village of Comana, where he died in exile, to Constantinople, where earlier he had governed the Church. Thirty years after his death, Patriarch Proculus delivered a homily in memory of his spiritual father and teacher. He so enflamed the love of the people and Emperor Theodosius the Younger toward this great saint that all of them desired that Chrysostom’s relics be translated to Constantinople. It was said that the sarcophagus, containing the relics of St. John Chrysostom, did not allow itself to be moved from its resting place until the emperor wrote a letter to Chrysostom begging him for forgiveness (for Theodosius’ mother, Eudoxia, was the culprit responsible for the banishment of this saint) and appealing to him to come to Constantinople, his former residence. When this letter of repentance was placed on the sarcophagus, its weight became extremely light. At the time of the translation of his relics, many who were ill and who touched the sarcophagus were healed. When the relics arrived in the capital, then the emperor in the name of his mother as though she herself was speaking over the relics, again, prayed to the saint for forgiveness. “While I lived in this transient life, I did you malice and, now, when you live the immortal life, be beneficial to my soul. My glory passed away and it helped nothing. Help me, father; in your glory, help me before I am condemned at the Judgment of Christ!” When the saint was brought into the Church of the Twelve Apostles and placed on the patriarchal throne, the masses of people heard the words from St. Chrysostom’s mouth saying: “Peace be to you all.” The translation of the relics of St. John Chrysostom was accomplished in the year 438 A.D.

From the Menologion of Basil II (c. 1000 AD)

When the Lord deemed it fitting He called His saints out of the African lands: holy Perpetua, Felicity, Saturus, Saturnius, Revocatus and Secundulus, to witness to their faith through suffering death.  Thus, we have as an inheritance the flourishing tree of Orthodoxy, for they shed their blood, watering the seedling.  Wherefore we cry aloud:

Rejoice, Holy Martyrs Perpetua, Felicity, and your companions

As a catechumen, O holy Perpetua, thou wast taken captive and while in prison thy father besought thee to denounce Christ.  But boldly thou didst proclaim that thou couldst be called by no other name but Christian. Wherefore we marvel at thy conviction and cry out to thee thus:

Rejoice, thou who art a shining example for all catechumens

Rejoice, thou who chose the heavenly over thine earthly father

Rejoice, thou who refused to be called anything other than a Christian

Rejoice, being freed from the bondage of sin through baptism while yet in prison

Rejoice, for being informed by the Spirit thou prayed only for endurance of the flesh

Rejoice, Married Matron mother of a son

Rejoice, thou who wast tempted by womanly anxiety for thy suckling child

Rejoice, thou who wast ministered to by the holy deacons Tertius and Pomponius

Rejoice, thou who didst commend thy son to the care of thy mother

Rejoice, thou who didst comfort thy brother, a catechumen in the faith

Rejoice, thou who didst look upon the dungeon as a palace

Rejoice, Bold One asking the Lord whether thou wouldst die a martyr’s death

Rejoice, Holy Martyrs Perpetua, Felicity and your companions

Beholding a heavenly vision, holy Perpetua wast informed of her martyrdom. She was found worthy to see with spiritual eyes the contest of salvation.  And looking upon the bronze ladder she didst see holy Saturus going up ahead of her, calling after her to follow. Wherefore we call to her:

Alleluia

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

I had no idea. To be more precise, before I converted to Eastern Orthodoxy, I knew that the Orthodox Church had been harshly suppressed by the communists, but I had no idea that the cruelty of persecution often equaled that inflicted on the early church.

Father George Calciu (1925–2006) was one such sufferer for Christ. A Romanian by birth, an Orthodox Christian by upbringing, and a priest by vocation, Calciu spent a total of twenty-one brutal years in prison—tortured and subjected to brainwashing—for his outspoken evangelism and criticism of communist materialism.

Fr. George’s remarkable story of faith and courage is vividly told in the exemplary book, Father George Calciu: Interviews, Homilies, and Talks. The book is primarily a first person biography taken from several interviews with Fr. George. But it also contains many of his sermons, most notably the famous, “Seven Homilies to the Youth,” a series of Lenten evangelical and anti-communist sermons Fr. George presented in defiance of the Romanian tyranny in 1978.

George Calciu was the youngest of eleven children, raised by devout parents as a faithful Orthodox Christian. Romania became communist in 1944, and the government soon began to crack down on the Church. Calciu was a medical student at the time, and his open faith made him suspect. He was imprisoned in 1948, where he was subjected to 1984-style mind control experiments—tortured until he denied Christ, and then forced to torture others toward the same end. “They wanted our souls,” he recalled, “not our bodies.”

Anguished over his “weakness,” Calciu vowed to become a priest if he survived. Released in 1964, he married, had a son, and obtained a doctorate in French. But the call remained, and when he took an ostensible French professorship at a theological seminary, he was secretly studying for the priesthood. He was ordained in 1973.

Fr. George and his family lived quietly until the communist government renewed its assault on faith. Heeding what he considered a divine call to speak out sacrificially, he offered seven homilies to young Romanians, one homily building on the next during each Wednesday of Lent. It was a rare moment of courage for 1978 Romania: When the church was closed to him by his terrified Patriarch, he preached from its steps. When the gates were locked, the growing audience of youth defiantly climbed the fence to hear him.

In his first homily, “The Call,” Fr. George urged the youth to hear “the voice of Jesus!” issuing a boldly subversive (to communism) call to faith:

What do you know of Christ, young man? If all you know is what they have taught you in atheism classes, you have been deprived, in bad faith, of a truth—the only truth which can set you free? . . . Who has pulled the veil over your eyes so that you would not see the most wonderful light of love proclaimed and lived by Jesus until the final end?

The answer was obvious: The government, the communists, and the educators they controlled. Fr. George offered a clarion invitation:

Come to the Church of Christ—to learn what innocence and purity are, what meekness is and what love is. You will find your place in life and the purpose of your existence. To your astonishment, you will discover that our life does not end in death, but in resurrection; that our existence centers on Christ, and that this world is not a mere empty moment in which nonbeing prevails. . . . Jesus is seeking you; Jesus has found you!

Week after week, Fr. George’s passionate homilies methodically built its evangelical message. In the second, he urged, “Let us Build Churches!” In the third, he described “Heaven and Earth,” the fourth, “Faith and Friendship.” In the fifth, perhaps knowing what was coming, Fr. George described the “Priesthood and Suffering:”

In the sixth homily, he presented the theology of “Death and Resurrection,” and then, just before Pascha (Easter), he concluded on a loving note, assuring his audience of God’s “Forgiveness.” He closed his last sermon with an excerpt from St. John Chrysostom’s famous Paschal homily read each Easter in every Orthodox Church in the world:

If any have labored from the first hour, let him receive today his rightful due. If any have arrived at the sixth hour, let him in no wise be in doubt, for in no wise shall he suffer loss. If any be delayed to even the ninth hour, let him draw near. . . . If any have tarried even until the eleventh hour, let him not be fearful on account of his lateness, for the Master, Who is jealous of His honor, receiving the last even as the first . . . Wherefore then, enter ye all into the joy of our Lord; both the first and last. . . . “Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice! Christ is risen, and life flourisheth! Christ is risen, and there is none dead in the tombs!”

At the end of Lent, Fr. George knew what to expect, and after months of physical intimidation and death threats, it came. Ceauescu ordered the Securitate (Romania’s secret police) to make Calciu disappear.

Fr. George’s faith was more mature and well formed than during his first imprisonment, and this time, despite beatings, torture, and deprivation, he did not break. At one point, he was so exhausted from unremitting interrogation that he could not even recall the Lord’s Prayer. “Then I remembered that there is a prayer to Jesus Christ: ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.’ . . . I was no longer scared . . . and I was able to resist.”

He spent years in solitary. He knew nothing of his family, and they, nothing of him. One night, Fr. George heard the joyful peal of many church bells: It was Easter. Early the next morning, the worst guard in the prison—who delighted in torture—entered the priest’s cell. He should have turned his face to the wall. Instead, Fr. George looked his tormenter boldly in the eye and proclaimed, “Christ is risen!” Rather than delivering a blow, the guard paused, and blurted out, “In Truth He is Risen!” and nervously backed out of the cell.

That was when Fr. George experienced a vision of what Orthodox theology calls the Uncreated Light:

He shut the door and I was petrified, because of what he had said. And little by little, I saw myself full of Light. The board against the wall was shining like the sun; everything in my cell was full of light. I cannot explain in words the happiness that invaded me then. I can explain nothing. It simply happened. I have no merit.

When Fr. George was put in a cell with two criminals ordered to murder him, he instead converted them to Christ. By this time, Ceauescu was under pressure from Western leaders to not harm the dissenting priest. As a consequence, he was released to house arrest in 1984, and the next year exiled to America where he spent the rest of his life in freedom.

Fr. Calciu lived what he preached. He did not hate his persecutors. Rather, he prayed for them daily and trusted in God’s mercy for their salvation. He also found joy. In her introduction to the book, Frederica Mathewes-Green, one of Calciu’s spiritual children writes of Fr. Calciu, “He had a beaming smile. He was often amused by life, and ready to laugh. . . . Fr. George was joyful. . . . He was naturally affectionate, and would hold my hand or anyone’s . . . just beaming with a radiant smile.”

Fr. George Calciu lived the kind of life many Christians pray to receive—but to which most hope never to be actually called. But Fr. Calciu’s witness is clear: Persecution and martyrdom—as hard as they are—redound to increased faith and ultimate victory. As we Orthodox say when remembering the righteous departed: Fr. George of blessed memory, pray for us sinners.

Wesley J. Smith is a senior fellow at the Discovery Institute’s Center on Human Exceptionalism. His blog Secondhand Smoke is hosted by First Things.

When thinking about a post for today I realized it was the feast of Sts. Priscilla and Aquila the Apostles. So, I decided to just walk a few steps down the street to a beautiful παρεκκλήσι (chapel) outside of the neighbourhood church. As you see in the photo it is quite large for a simple place to venerate an icon on the side of a street, and quite beautifully made. Inside there is a place to light candles and an icon of the saints (with a few fresh flowers clearly placed there by faithful). There is no door so day and night people passing by can step in, venerate, whisper a prayer and light a candle. Such sweet places of spiritual reprieve will be missed once I return to Canada.

Troparion of St. Priscilla:  Through thee the divine likeness was securely preserved, O Mother Priscilla; for thou didst carry the cross and followed Christ. By example and precept thou didst teach us to ignore the body because it is perishable, and to attend to the concerns of the undying soul. Therefore, doth thy soul rejoice with the angels.

Today is the feast of St. Pulcheria on the Greek calendar. Here is a summary of her life:

(OCA Saints and Feasts)

The Holy Right-Believing Empress Pulcheria, daughter of the Byzantine emperor Arcadius (395-408), was coregent and adviser of her brother Theodosius the Younger (408-450). She received a broad and well-rounded education, and distinguished herself by her wisdom and piety, firmly adhering to Orthodox teaching. Through her efforts the church of the Most Holy Theotokos was built at Blachernae, and also other churches and monasteries.

Through the intrigues of enemies and of Eudokia, the wife of the emperor Theodosius the Younger, St Pulcheria was removed from power. She withdrew into seclusion, and lived a pious life. Without her beneficent influence, conditions in the capital deteriorated. She returned after a while, following the urgent request of her brother. Then the unrest provoked by emerging heresies was quelled.

After the death of Theodosius the Younger, Marcian (450-457) was chosen emperor. St Pulcheria again wanted to withdraw into her seclusion, but both the emperor and officials entreated her not to refuse the throne, but to marry Marcian. For the common good she consented to become Marcian’s wife if she were allowed to preserve her virginity within the marriage. They were married, but lived in purity as brother and sister.

Through the efforts of St Pulcheria, the Third Ecumenical Council was held at Ephesus in 431 to address the heresy of Nestorius; and also the Fourth Ecumenical Council which was convened at Chalcedon in the year 451, to deal with the heresies of Dioscorus and Eutychius.

Church of the Mother of God Blachernae, Constantinople

St Pulcheria built the church of the Mother of God at Blachernae at Constantinople, and also found the relics of the Forty Martyrs of Sebaste (March 9).

Throughout her life St Pulcheria defended the Orthodox Faith against various heresies. After giving away her wealth to the poor and to the Church, she died peacefully at the age of fifty-four in the year 453.

This is my finished icon of St. Nektarios. (Well actually I still need to do the outline around his head, but that’s it).

Part One is here, Part Two is here

B)  Letters dating to his time as principal of the Rizareio School (1894-1908)

The accusations levied by those in the Patriarchal court in Alexandria did not hinder the Saint’s appointment as director of the Rizareio Ecclesiastical School which became radiant as a result of his presence and holy life.  During this relatively calm but arduous fourteen year period of his life, Saint Nektarios authored not only many great writings, but also many – in fact, most – of his letters.  The first series of letters belonging to this period are related to Saint Nektarios’ efforts to rehabilitate his relationship with the Alexandrian Patriarchate following the death of Sophronios and the election of his successor in 1890.  Writing to the new Patriarch, Photios, in October of 1902, he asks that justice be done and that his position as a Hierarch of the Church of Alexandria be affirmed.[1]  In September of 1903, however, having yet received no response, he wrote a letter to Joachim III, the Ecumenical Patriarchate, asking direction specific to his situation, but also to generally “…settle his position as a Hierarch of the Eastern Orthodox Church”.  Joachim III immediately brought the issue before the Patriarchal Synod but, because the matter involved a clergyman belonging to another jurisdiction, the Synod simply addressed a letter to Photios of Alexandria, “…to whose sovereign judgement and evaluation the matter is referred.”  At the same time the Synod informed the Metropolitan of Pentapolis by letter that the only thing that it could do was to forward his letter and the related documents to the Patriarch of Alexandria, since, “…as will be evident to His Eminence, beyond these actions, our Church can take no further action with regard to this issue.”[2]

Other series of letters dating to this period are connected either with his sending copies of his books to the monasteries on the Holy Mountain or individual monks, or with his efforts to keep up correspondence with different persons,  though particularly with the well-known elders and spiritual fathers of his era.  Eleven of these letters which were addressed to Vatopedi Monastery between 1900 and 1906, have already been published, while one letter addressed to Hilandar Monastery (1903) and three addressed to the Simonas Petras Monastery (1902-1907) have also been preserved.[3]  One particularly impressive letter has been preserved from his correspondence with Elder Joasaph Agioannitis of the Saint John Chrysostom Skete in which he seeks to put ecclesiastical offices in perspective.  Highlighting the significance of the monastic life, he writes:  “Truly, what is more honorable, more radiant, than the monastic way of life?  I must confess in all sincerity my conviction, according to which I consider the ascetic to be greater than the hierarch.”  Referring to this letter, Fr Theoklitos Dionysiatis writes that it constitutes, “…a wonderful analytical comparison of the importance of the office of hierarch in relation to that of a virtuous monk.”[4]

During this same period the Saint also wrote a series of letters to Elder Daniel of Katounakia, the founder of the Danielite brotherhood.  These four letters, along with sections of a fifth which has been lost, reveal something of the period between 1903 and 1908.  The first of these letters is of particular value since in it Saint Nektarios consoles the Elder, writing concerning the pedagogical and spiritual value of sorrows.  We ourselves had the greet blessing of overseeing the Danielite brotherhood’s efforts to publish this correspondence between Saint Nektarios and Elder Daniel, and to survey its contests in our introduction to the subsequent edition.[5]

In addition, there exist a series of letters which the Saint wrote to Elder Pachomios of Chios.  Pachomios, a hesychast who initially took up the monastic life in the New Monastery of Chios but later withdrew to a hesychasterion on Mount Provateio near the monastery, established a coenobitic women’s monastery in Frankovouni which lived in desert-like austerity.  It is to Elder Pachomios that the Saint owed his own initiation into the monastic life, and he refers to him frequently in his letters to the nuns at Holy Trinity Monastery in Ageina.[6]

Also worthy of mention is Saint Nektarios’ letter to Metropolitan Spyridon of Kephalonia, in which he argues strongly that the risen Lord appeared first to the Most-Holy Theotokos, and not to Mary Magdalene who, he also notes, ought not to be numbered among the sinful women.[7]

By far the largest division in the corpus of Saint Nektarios’ letters, however, are the 136 which are addressed to the nuns of Holy Trinity Monastery between 1904 and 1908 when he was yet principal of the Rizareio School, but had already established the monastery and had set the sisterhood up there.  This separation indeed proved fortunate, for we would have been deprived of this great treasure if things had occurred any other way.  From the Rizareio School the Saint took care of all the novice monastic’s necessities, both material and spiritual, demonstrating tireless concern for them.  He guided the sisterhood towards spiritual perfection with humility and love, but above all with discretion, guarding it from ascetical extremes, but also confronting serious lapses with the utmost strictness.  Nor did he neglect his responsibility to teach the sisters, presenting at length in his letter the homilies which he was preaching in the different churches of Athens, and sending them copies of the hymns to the Most-Holy Theotokos which he had composed.  He also shows a touching concern for their health, sending them medicine, asking them if they are taking what has been prescribed, and scolding them when they neglected to do so; he even looked after their rassos and their shoes.  This he did that their love might increase; not their love for him, but rather for Christ, the heavenly bridegroom.  These letters constitute an excellent guide, an excellent outline, of the monastic life.  Knowledge of them would undoubtedly serve as an aid to today’s abbots and abbesses in their own efforts to provide discerning, humble and loving spiritual direction to monastic communities.  As we have already said, these letter were first published by Metropolitan Titus of Paramythia, though a selection has also been published by Fr Theoklitos Dionysiatis, who himself writes:  “These letters are truly a treasure, not solely because they were written by the Saint when he had matured, when he was brimming with spiritual experience and when he was a ready vessel of the Holy Spirit, but also because they are possessed of a certain urgency which his writings lack since these are addressed to anonymous, unknown readers…They are replete with most-valuable teachings and they manifest, apart from his great fatherly love and humility, that most refined discernment by means of which directed those souls who had only recently tasted of the monastic life.  One is also impressed by his deep knowledge of monasticism, his appreciation of the spiritual and ascetical mindset, his emphasis of humility, of prayer, and above all of the will of God, the fundamental principle which he himself had followed from his youth.”[8]

C)  Epistles dating to the period of his retirement to Holy Trinity Monastery (1908-1912).

We have relatively few epistles dating this final twelve-year period of the Saint’s life, for, having withdrawn to the desert – as it was at that time – of Aegina, he primarily occupied himself with the building of the monastery and the spiritual direction of the sisters.  Most of the letters dating to this period are addressed to his disciple and spiritual son, Constantinos Sakopoulos, who had proved himself a faithful aid, serving the Saint during his time as principal of the Rizareio School.  Before retiring to the monastery, the Saint wondered how he would manage to put “Costas” up without turning a blind eye to the monastic canons.  In the end, however, Costas did not accompany the Saint to Aegina, remaining instead in Athens ever serving the Saint and the monastery.[9]  The ten letters between them which have been preserved are connected either with matters involving necessities, or to the publication and distribution of his books.

Two letters have also been preserved which are addressed to Heiromonk Sophronios Kehagiolou, the well-known elder of the Monastery of the Honourable Forerunner in Skopelos where the Saint himself had initially wanted to take up the monastic life after his retirement from the Rizareio School.  Elder Sophronios, by descent a Thracian from Raidesto, located near Sylivria, the place of the Saint’s birth, even took part in the vigils at Prophet Elisha’s Church for a period of time.[10]  These letters are dated July 1912 and July 1916 respectively.  In the first, he invites Elder Sophronios to visit his monastery, and in the second he informs the Elder that he has fallen ill and that he will have to postpone his planned visit.[11]

The Church of St. Nektarios in Aegina, 2008

Saint Nektarios also maintained correspondence with heterodox Christians – Roman Catholics, Old Catholics and Anglicans – in hopes of bringing them to the Orthodox Church, whose doctrine he presented objectively and with precision.  On several occasions, Saint Nektarios, by means of letter, referred Old Catholics and Anglicans interested in the ideas of union with the Orthodox Church to the Patriarchate, and several of Patriarch Joachim III’s letters responding to the Saint’s request have been preserved.[12]  Also a letter between Saint Nektarios and the Kryproferes Monastery has also been preserved, in which the Saint presents the difficulties surrounding the question of Christian unity – a topic they had broached in a previous letter.  He refers them to his work on the causes of the Schism between the Eastern and Western churches, but avoids taking a position on the matter out of politeness, instead referring those interested to the Ecumenical Patriarchate.  “This matter is of the utmost importance for the Eastern Church, and thus, if the Church does not take up the matter and make some ruling concerning it at the present time, then, I believe in accord with my humble opinion, all individual efforts not conclude in the desired end.”[13]

 4.         Conclusion.

It is not possible for us to present here the vast field of virtues, the holy avarice of this meek, innocent, humble and discerning Saint, this saint of our century, nor all the creases and folds of his holy life as these appear in his letters.  If we are found worthy by God, through the prayers of the holy hierarch, we will complete the collection and publication of his Collected Works and we will thus be able dedicate more time to the analysis and appraisal of this lover of virtue and holiness.

(An excerpt from Elder Ephraim of Arizona’s homily The Struggle of Great Lent – Part One is here and Part Two is here).

We have instances from Church history of many people “in the world” (not monastics, that is), who pleased God and became great. Abba Paphnuti [from Ancient Egyptian = “man of God”], an ascetic of great gifts, once prayed to God and said: “God, who have You placed me with. With whom do I share the same measure of virtue?”. And he heard a voice, saying to him: “Down in Alexandria there’s a poor man, a cobbler, down in a basement. You have the same amount of virtue as he does”. “But I’ve been a hermit in the desert from childhood and I’m equal in virtue with a lay person, a married man?”. “Yes, you’re equal to him”. The next day, the saint picked up his staff and his bag, put in some dry rusks and set off for Alexandria. He went down into the city, found the layman and said to him: “What do you do here, friend?”. “What should I do, father? I’m a sinner, the worst person in the world”. “Can we talk?” “Certainly”. “What’s the virtue that you’re working on acquiring?” “Virtue, me? I live ‘in the world’ and am completely mixed up. Now you, you’ve got virtues”. “No, you’re doing something”. “I’m not doing anything”. “God showed me, so you can’t tell me lies. I prayed and He told me that we share the same measure of virtue. There must be something about you”. “Sorry, Father. If what I do can be considered something, I’ll tell you. I married, and from the moment I put on the crown, I said to my wife: ‘If you love me, we’ll live apart, like brother and sister and work for the sanctification of our souls. Do you agree’. ‘I agree’. And since then we’ve lived in purity and virginity”.

In the desert, Blessed Paphnuti tried to cleanse himself through the ascetic life, and restraint, in which he was greatly assisted by the condition of his way of life. The other man lived “in the world”, with a wife, with all the challenges of secular life and, with God’s help had reached the stature of a saint. And his struggle was greater than that of the hermit. Proof that he was great in the eyes of God.

After that, something else happened which has to do with this cobbler. One day a Christian went to the Blessed Paphnuti and said:

“Father, I quarreled with a priest and I don’t know how he reacted, whether he cursed me or swore at me, but he’s now departed this life and we weren’t reconciled. What do I do now?”.

“There’s nothing I can do in this case, but there’s a holy man who I’ll send you to and he’ll help. Go down to Alexandria, to a basement where there’s this cobbler. Tell him I sent you, mention the problem and he’ll help”.

The Christian said to himself: “For goodness’ sake. A hermit can’t help and a layman can?”. Nevertheless, out of obedience to the hermit, he did as he was told. The cobbler told him to wait until night fell and then took him to a church in the city. After again telling him to wait, the cobbler went up to the large door made the sign of the cross and it opened. The inside of the church was bathed in light and there was heavenly music. The cobbler told the man:

“Go in there and look at the choirs on the left and right. You’ll see the priest there”.

The man went in, saw the priest in the left choir and received his forgiveness.

You see what ascetic effort can achieve? What the soul’s struggle can do? What did that layman do to purify his soul. When he told the girl he’d married  that they should live like brother and sister, was that an end to it? No, they fasted and kept vigil together, they made prostrations and read the Gospel. They read Patristic books, went to church, confessed, took communion, chased  away evil thoughts and struggled assiduously. And that’s how they became saints “in the world”.

So here is proof that even “in the world”, when Christians take on the struggle with good will, the Grace of God does not exclude anyone. But we make excuse for ourselves and say that because we’re “in the world”, we can’t. Desire gets the better of us. What do we need to do? Fight in the body and in the soul. In other words, control our thoughts. Thoughts come, sinful fantasies, images, faces, idols and scenes. We must get rid of them immediately with “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me”. When the mind is careful not to accept all of that and has the divine weapon, the Name of Christ, then every enemy of our soul is slain, whether it be the devil, sordid fantasies or repulsive thoughts. Then, if we guard our soul, mind and heart in this way, our inner self will remain clean and pure.

Let’s struggle really hard now, and the rewards will be very great. Nobody finds grace unless they make the effort. If a farmer doesn’t tend his crops, he won’t see any yield. When our fast is accompanied, reinforced and flanked by prayer, study, vigilance, church attendance, confession, Holy Communion, good works- especially almsgiving- then the beauty of the preparation of the soul for the reception of Great Week is complete. Then we’ll experience the Holy and Sacred Passion of Christ  more intensely, because our heart will soften, it’ll alter and it’ll realize how great God’s love for humankind is. Then, within us, we’ll experience very forcibly the Holy Resurrection, we’ll celebrate it in a way befitting to God and we’ll celebrate Holy Easter together with the angels. Amen.

ST. LYDIA was born in Russia on March 20, 1901. Her father was a Priest in the city of Ufa. From her youth, she was distinguished for her sensitivity, her loving tenderness, and her abhorrence of evil, which is why everyone loved her.

After high school, at nineteen years of age, she was married, but soon lost her husband in the civil war.

In 1922, against his will, her Priest-father joined the “Living Church” schism, which had been organized by the Bolsheviks. The young widow wished to join the martyric Catacomb Church. Falling at the feet of her father, she begged him: “Give me your blessing to depart, father, that my salvation not be impeded.”

The elderly Priest was conscious of sinning by belonging to the “Living Church.” Thus, he tearfully gave her his blessing to live independently, prophetically saying: “My daughter, when you win your crown, tell the Lord that, although I myself proved too weak for battle [podvig], nevertheless I did not hinder you, but blessed you.”

Lydia managed to find work as a clerk in the Forestry Department. In this way, she came into contact with the simple Russian people, whom she loved dearly. And the unsophisticated people loved and respected her in turn. The lumberman and drivers, who worked under difficult conditions, recounted with wonder that, when encountering Lydia at the office, they felt something similar to what they had sensed when they went to venerate a wonderworking Icon of the Theotokos near their village, before the 1917 Revolution.

At the office, obscenities, insults, and quarrels were no longer to be heard. Everyone noticed this, and naturally so did the Party leaders. They followed Lydia, but could find nothing suspect. The blessed Lydia never attended the Churches that were legalized by the Bolsheviks, and only rarely and with many precautions did she attend the services at the Catacomb Church.

The secret police knew that there was a network of Catacomb Churches in that region and, in order to discover it, they recalled Bishop Andrew (Ukhtomsky)–who was greatly revered by the people–from exile. By secret order of Bishop Andrew, however, only one Church in Ufa received him officially, whereas all of the inhabitants of the Diocese came into contact with him secretly. The police understood that their plan had failed, and arrested and exiled him anew. Bishop Andrew was martyred on 26 December 1937.

Lydia had the opportunity to speak with the Holy Hieromartyr Andrew for one hour. What was said between them remains unknown; but when a young and zealous Priest criticized Lydia’s father before Bishop Andrew, he replied: “That Priest has a great intercessor before God: Saint Lydia,” and he brought the conversation to a close.

The Grace-filled Lydia was finally arrested on 9 July 1928, when the secret police discovered that she was behind the circulation of typed booklets containing lives of Saints, prayers, and homilies and teachings of old and new Bishops. They had noticed that the typewriter on which the booklets were typed had a defective letter K, and were thereby able to track her down.

The police understood that she held a key in her hand to the discovery of the entire Catacomb Church in the region. For ten days they continually pressured her to confess, but she completely refused to speak. On 20 July 1928, the interrogator lost his patience and sent her to the “special command,” located in a basement cell.

Exhausted, the blessed Lydia did not have the strength to go down the steps. The order was then given to the guard on duty in the hallway, Cyril Ataev (23 years old), to help her descend. “May Christ save you!” said Lydia in thanks.

These words and her eyes, filled with grief and helplessness, profoundly moved Cyril. He therefore could not listen indifferently to the uninterrupted screams and crying coming from the cell where they were torturing Lydia for over an hour and a half.

“Don’t you hurt?” asked the exhausted torturers. “You scream and cry. That means it is painful.”

“Painful, Lord, how painful!” groaned Lydia.

“Then why do you not confess? The tortures will become even more painful!”

“I cannot confess… I cannot…. He will not permit it…” she replied.

“Who will not permit it?”

“God will not permit it.”

The torturers finally decided to rape her, and they called in the young guard, Cyril Ataev, to help them. When Cyril entered, he immediately understood their intentions. Overcome by holy indignation, he killed the two torturers on the spot. While he was grabbing a third torturer by the neck, a fourth shot him.

Cyril fell down near Lydia, who was bound by a rope, and, looking her straight in her eyes, he said: “Saint, take me with you!” Then something astonishing happened: a Divine radiance streamed forth from the Holy Martyr Lydia; with a heavenly smile, she answered: “I will take you.”

These words filled the two surviving torturers with horror, and they were overcome by tremendous fear. With frantic screams, they shot all of their bullets on the two helpless Martyrs. Those who had come to assist led them out, while they were still screaming like madmen. In the end, they all left, conquered by an indefinable fear.

One of the two torturers went completely out of his mind. A short while later, the other died of nervous shock. Before his death, he recounted everything that had happened to his friend, Sergeant Alexey Ikonnikov. The latter was brought to God and, for his zealous propagation of this wondrous story, was also arrested and suffered a Martyr’s death.

All three — Lydia, Cyril, and Alexey — have always been Saints in the conscience of the Catacomb Church.

St. Lydia the New Martyr of Russia and Her Companions Alexis and Cyril’s Feast Day is July 20.

Apolytikion in Plagal of the First Tone
By the grace of thy meekness, a persecutor’s soul was swiftly changed to thy guardian and fellow Martyr in Christ, and through thee attained to God, O righteous Lydia; for that great strength of love in thee overcame the power of darkness and brought thee through the tempest. O Saint of God, take us with thee, as thou didst Cyril and Alexis.

Christ is Risen!

(An excerpt from Abbess Thaisia’s book Letters to a Beginner: On Giving One’s Life to God, pp. 90-91)

The event which I want to tell you about took place on one of the Saturdays of Great Lent. After dinner both novices went away somewhere, and the nun, taking advantage of the solitude, wanted to pray. Here is what she told me about this occurrence: “I remember only that I began to recite the Akathist to the Sweetest Jesus, Whose presence I still felt in my heart, for that day I had received the Holy Mysteries. I read an ikos, I read another, and I felt that my soul became ever more and more moved and warmed by the love towards the Lord. I remember that I gradually began to wholly tremble both in soul and body, pouring out tears. My physical powers failed me, and in order not to fall I knelt and prostrated before the holy icons, continuing to read the Akathist mentally. It seems that I read it to the middle, but after that I don’t remember anything. Everything around me in the cell, the very floor on which I lay prostrate, everything as it were vanished somewhere, and it seemed to me all different, as though afar off was the Throne of God with Jesus Himself seated on it. Around the Throne was a very great number of those who stood – I don’t know whether they were people or angels – but they all sang wonderfully, wonderfully well. I stood there behind everyone and rejoiced. Anything more I don’t remember and cannot say. Whether this vision lasted long I also don’t know; only afterwards my cell attendants told me that when they came into the cell and saw me cast down before the icons, they thought at first that I was praying, but then seeing that I didn’t arise for a long time, they took me for being asleep and began to call me by name, but without success – and left me in peace. When I came to myself from the wonderful rapture and vision, there was again no one in the cell, for which I was very glad. The floor, on the place where my head had lain, was copiously wet with tears, as though water had been spilled on it. That meant that my bodily members were not devoid of life at that time – my eyes shed streams of tears, but I didn’t feel it and didn’t know. Or to speak more correctly, I didn’t know at all what was happening with me; but the sweetness which filled my heart in those most holy moments long remained in it, as a pledge of the heavenly visit.”

You see Sister, examples of lofty, contemplative prayer of nuns contemporary to us. Who hinders you and us from attaining this height? In the books of the Holy Fathers there are very many similar kinds of examples, but I purposely brought you ones from lives of our own times, because we, reading and listening to narratives about the great exploit of the saints often say in our justification: “Then there were saints!… That was in those former times! But now people are weak and our time is not then!” So, behold, understand from experience that even now there are true strugglers. Neither the time nor the place makes a man holy, but his good free volition and firm will. Pray unremittingly, and the Lord will not deprive you of His blessing.

Christ is Risen!

(Source) St. Isidore the Martyr of Chios:

During the reign of Decius, Isidore was drafted by force from the island of Chios into military service. From childhood, Isidore adhered to the Faith of Christ and spent his entire life in fasting, prayer and good works. But when in the army Isidore declared himself a Christian, the commander seized him, required of him an answer and counseled him to deny Christ and offer sacrifices to the idols. The saint replied: “Even if you kill my body, you have no authority over my soul. I possess the True, Living God, Jesus Christ Who now lives in me and after my death, He will be with me and I am in Him and will remain in Him and I will never cease to confess His Holy Name as long as my soul is in my body.” First, the commander ordered that Isidore be whipped with oxen tails and after that they cut out his tongue. Even without his tongue, Isidore, by the Spirit of God, spoke and confessed the Name of Christ. Meanwhile, the punishment of God came upon the commander and he, suddenly, became mute. Finally, the mute commander gave the sign to behead Isidore. Isidore was elated at this sentence and after praising God went to the scaffold where he was beheaded in the year 251 A.D. His companion, Ammon buried his body and following that also suffered and received the martyr’s wreath.

St. Pachomius receiving instructions from an angel about the great (or angelic) schema for monastics. (This wall-painting is located in a monastery near Yiannitsa, Greece.)

Christ is Risen!

(Source)

By the 4th century, Christian asceticism had taken two forms – the anchoritic or hermitic, and the communal or cenobitic.

From ancient times the Holy Church has sanctified both forms of monasticism as equally valid in terms of their purpose – spiritual perfection. The difference between them lies not in their essence but in the nature of their activities; it is determined by the intentions and abilities of the monk, and, to a certain extent, by external circumstances.

Thus, the name of St. Antony the Great is linked with the isolated hermitic life, the so-called contemplative monasticism. On the other hand, the name of St. Pachomius, an ascetic of the same era (4th century), is associated with the appearance of communal monastic life – so-called cenobitism. It is evident from their lives how miraculously and providentially the two forms of monasticism were organized. The main vow, one that is common to both forms of monasticism, is that of obedience either to a starets (if the monk is leading a hermitic life) or to a hegumen (if he is living in a cenobitic monastery).

“A monk must frankly tell his starets how many steps he takes or how many drops of water he drinks in his cell, lest he thereby commit a sin,” the spiritual fathers told the newly professed.

The Rule of St. Pachomius, which was revealed to him by an angel, defined monasticism in external terms and demonstrated the essence of monastic life. “Do not admit anyone to the performance of higher feats till three years have passed,” the angel said. “Let him enter this domain only when he has accomplished some hard work.”

St. Pachomius began his monastic path as a hermit. However, he saw in cenobitism a form of monasticism which affects more than hermitism a monk’s spiritual life and promotes the perfect development of his soul’s qualities.

According to the Rule of St. Pachomius, the act of acceptance into a monastery had three steps and consisted of (a) “temptation” (trial), (b) clothing, and (c) presentation to the starets for spiritual guidance. Each of the three steps undoubtedly had its own significance. They marked the beginning of the three stages in monasticism which have become deeply embedded in the life of the Eastern Church: first, the novice (or rassophore); the second, the monk (known as a monk of the Lesser Schema); and the third, the monk of the Great Schema (or simply schema-monk).

On this day St. Constantine, and Blessed Helen his mother,

have revealed the Cross, the Wood, worthy of all veneration.

For the Jews it is dishonour, but faithful rulers

have it as a weapon vanquishing their opponents.

For our sake hath it been shown forth,

a great ensign dread and most awesome in war.

The following is written by the niece (and adopted daughter) of Matushka Elizabeth and St. John of Kronstadt. I have put the passages I found especially inspiring in bold font. May we have her blessing!

From the reminiscences of R. G. Shemyakina, reprinted in Otets Ioana Kronshtadtsky by P.M. Chizhov, Jordanville, 1958

(Source)

ON MAY 22, 1909, at 9:30, after prolonged sufferings, the widow of Fr. John of Kronstadt, Elizabeth Constantinovna Sergiev quietly departed this life. According to her doctor, the cause of death was general infirmity with weakening of the heart. The Lord granted that she prepare long and fervently for her move into eternal life: in her latter years Matushka Elizabeth, following the counsels and instructions of her husband, that man of prayer, communed often either at the cathedral or at home when her legs were too weak to take her out of the house; in the last year she communed daily. On May 21, she communed as was her custom–for the last time, it turned out. At 6 o’clock in the evening her eyes closed and after 10 o’clock she gave no more signs of consciousness. Her last word was “I want,” spoken in response to an offer to drink some holy water. But she was no longer able to swallow. She died peacefully the next morning as the canon for the soul’s departure was being read. On St. Thomas Sunday she had received Unction at her request, and afterwards said several times. “How happy I am that I received unction and prepared myself.” She was buried on Sunday, May 24, in Kronstadt, on the left side of the cathedral yard.

The deceased was born May 4, 1829, in Gdov, where her father, Archpriest Konstantin Nesvitsky, served in the city cathedral and was rector of a parish in the Gdoyak district. Transferred to Kronstadt at the request of the sacristan of St. Andrew’s Cathedral, his weak health did not permit him to serve there long, and in 1855 he gave his post to the young priest, John Ilyitch Sergiev, who had married his daughter Elizabeth. As a new bride she had to care for an elderly father (who became a widower that same year), three grown brothers and two sisters. They all lived together, and Elizabeth–fulfilling the responsibilities of housekeeper and mother–shouldered a heavy yoke. Several years later her brothers were able to support themselves and moved out on their own, while Elizabeth arranged for her sisters to marry teachers at the Petersburg Seminary, who then became priests. She and Fr. John did everything to get the girls established. Lacking sufficient financial resources, Fr. John in both cases approached well-to-do .parishioners, asking if they wouldn’t contribute toward doweries for his sisters-in-law. Many willingly did so, but others responded coolly to the young priest, an attitude which not infrequently greets benevolence among us here.

After they were married, the sisters would go to Kronstadt on visits. On one such occasion, in 1870, there in Fr. John’s apartment, the younger sister gave birth to a daughter: that was me. I was eventually taken home, but it pleased the Lord God that my true home was the quiet, peaceful apartment of that ever-memorable Pastor, beneath his blessed roof.

 In 1872 my father died, leaving my mother without any financial means. My uncle, seeing our helplessness, said to his wife, “We have no children of our own. let’s take her and bring her up as a daughter.” It was no sooner said than done. And so it happened that, by God’s will, I came into the care of these infinitely dear to me uncle and aunt, who tirelessly looked after my welfare as the most loving parents would care for a favorite child.

Just as Fr. John never had a life of his own, giving himself to the service of his neighbor, so also E.K. never lived for herself; the circle of her activity was circumscribed by service to her relatives and close ones: she rejoiced at their joys and grieved over their sorrows. I remember her at the age of 45. She had kind, noble features, and was very active, forever rustling about. She liked to fuss over people, warm and feed them. I can see her now, in the kitchen, a white apron tied around her waist, making a sweet pie. She enjoyed cooking, going to market, looking over everyone and making sure that everything was clean and the food tasty. How many times did Uncle, tasting his favorite apple pie, remark, “You are my master pie baker!”

Elizabeth Constantinovna was warmhearted, always ever;-tempered, affectionate. She liked having people visit her; then she would provide an abundant spread, and Uncle, seeing her hospitality and sincerity, would say about the bustling mistress of the house: “She’s a real matushka.”

 With all her housekeeping tasks, Aunt did not overlook me. She spent all her free time with me, slept in the same room with me, taught me to read in Russian and in French; later, when I entered school, she prepared my breakfast, daily accompanied me to school, picked me up and quizzed me on my lessons. I remember that before Aunt began teaching me, Uncle served a molieben in St. Andrew’s cathedral, to Ss. Cosmas and Damian and Prophet Naum. Uncle himself took me to the entrance examinations, paid for my education out of his own meager salary, and followed my progress with unwaning interest, weekly looking over my notebook with my grades and signing it. Given such favorable conditions, it is hardly to be wondered that I became a top student. This brought great joy to my guardians, and Uncle hurried to inform many acquaintances of the good news: “Our niece and ward, Ruth, graduated with a gold medal.”

From my earliest memory, I recall that Aunt always treated her husband with reverent love and respect. When he came home tired from making calls on parishioners or serving she hurried to take off his boots and help him undress, insisting that he lie down to rest. Then, dead silence reigned in the apartment; Aunt jealously guarded the brief rest periods of her hard-working pastor.

Uncle had a rather weak constitution and frequently fell ill. At those times Aunt turned into a tireless nurse: she spent whole nights at the patient’s bedside. In 1879 Fr. John became dangerously ill with pneumonia. He lay for hours with closed eyes, in a state of semi-consciousness. When he came around, he would often say, “My head aches unbearably, as thought someone is hitting it with a hammer.” Once, Aunt was sitting near Uncle’s bed weeping. Opening his eyes, Batiushka looked at her and said, “Don’t cry, Liza. God willing, I shall recover, but if not, God and kind people will not abandon you.” Several days passed and one morning Aunt rushed into my room, trembling with excitement: “Uncle is better; the crises is over!” We looked at one another, hugged each other tightly and both burst out crying; they were tears of happiness…

When Batiushka undertook his frequent – and later, daily – trips to Petersburg, Aunt always waited up for him, even if this was very late, despite the fact that her health wasn’t the best; she constantly suffered from headaches and for several years was troubled by insomnia. In time her physical weakness forced her to cut back on her ministrations; for her, poor dear, this was a severe deprivation!

The following incident comes to mind: Some years ago, in winter, Uncle went outside after a bath wearing tight shoes. Aunt became very upset an, no longer able to walk fast herself, sent me to tell Batiushka that he risked catching cold, going out dressed so lightly after a bath. Coming in form the outside hallway, Uncle sent straight to Aunt in the sitting room and said, patting her shoulder, “Thank you, my dear, for your concern, but don’t worry, my feet are warm.”

St. Andrew Cathedral, on the side of which is buried Matushka Elizabeth.

Uncle deeply appreciated this attentiveness on her part, and reciprocated in the same manner. When he was too ill to go to Petersburg, and later even around Kronstadt, he never sat down to eat without going into the sitting room or into Aunt’s room, depending where she was, and calling her to the table. “When I eat alone,” he said, “I have no appetite.” Not an evening went by that Uncle didn’t go to Aunt to say good night and bless her before going to bed: “I wish you good night,” “Sleep peacefully,” “God be with you,” “God protect you” – he used to say to her before retiring to his study to sleep. Not long before Uncle died, Matushka came down with influenza, and at this time his care for her was especially evident. It was so moving to see how the dear sufferer, barely able to walk, would go in to bless her several times a day and in the evening before going to sleep, stroke her head and say, “Poor dear, poor dear, we are sufferers together…” He would stand for a long time beside her chair, shaking his head and looking compassionately at his sick wife; sometimes he would turn his gaze towards the icon corner and for a long time silently pray for her. Usually, when someone asked Uncle about his health or Aunt, he would answer, “We are both poorly,” or “We are both preparing for death.” Once, when he was told that Aunt was failing, he came to her and said, “Do not be despondent; the Lord is merciful; He will give you patience to endure this suffering and get well.” In November, dining together with Aunt and two guests, Uncle told them that his health was altogether bad. Aunt, wishing to encourage him, said, “You always feel better in the spring; when spring comes–you’ll recover.” “In spring, you say?” Uncle replied, “You’ll live to see the spring, but I–will not.” And he was right: he died in December, and she, in May. When, from the 6th of December, Batiushka no longer had powers to serve Divine Liturgy but communed daily at home, he would come into the room of his sick matushka, with the chalice and commune her, saying, “My Lord and my God!” “With fear of God and faith draw near,” “Receive the Body and Blood of Christ,” “Peace to you, my eldress, I congratulate you.” On the morning of the 17th he communed her for the last time. From the 18th he did not leave his study.

After Uncle’s repose, aunt’s health began to deteriorate even more rapidly. She became very weak; her legs and hands barely functioned, her heart gradually began to fail. She sorely missed her ever-memorable husband and couldn’t hear mention of his name without tears; she could not accept the thought that Uncle was no longer among the living and would tell people, “I keep thinking that Ivan Ilyitch has not died but has simply gone off on a trip somewhere, as he used to go to Moscow, and that he will return.” Not long before she died Matushka saw a sketch of Batiushka at the home of an acquaintance and burst into uncontrollable tears: “Ivan Ilyiteh, Ivan IIyitch,” and when they tried to console her with the thought that he was now blessedly happy, she replied, “It’s wonderful for him, but it’s so hard for me; after all, we were together for 53 years.”

Sensing her imminent death, Matushka, sitting in her chair, frequently lifted her gaze to the icons and said, “I must get ready, I must ask God – to forgive all my sins.” She often remembered and was consoled by the words of her ever-memorable Batiushka, our mutual intercessor before the Lord God, which he spoke on December 17, when he was told that his sick matushka was sorely grieved that she could not come into his study and take care of him: “Tell my wife that she is always with me. and I am always with her.” These words greatly encouraged Aunt in her prolonged sufferings, consoling her with the hope that even after his death Batiushka would not leave her and soon take her to be with him, that he would greet her in the heavenly mansion and through his intercession would lead her to the Throne of the Most High. At night, Aunt would usually put on Uncle’s under-cassock or she would cover herself with it. Every time I went to the St. John of Rila convent she would say to me, “Make a prostration for me before Uncle’s tomb,” and she would weep inconsolably. If her hands or legs began to ache badly, she would immediately ask to have the afflicted places anointed with oil from the vigil lamp burning over Batiushka’s tomb.

Deeply religious, Matushka placed all her hope in God’s mercy and devoted herself wholeheartedly towards the salvation of her soul. “Ivan Ilyitch, bless me, pray for me,” she would repeat several times a day, sorrowful that she had outlived her great husband-pastor. After his repose, she would pray sincerely with tears, but in her great humility Aunt feared that her prayers would not soon be answered, and always asked others to pray for her. When I would go home for the night, after saying goodbye she would invariably say, “Pray for me.” If I went to Vigil or Liturgy, I always heard this same request, coming from the depths of her heart: “Pray for me,” and I prayed for her, as best I knew how.

One day, before I arrived, Aunt took a bad turn and consoled herself with no other thought than the fact that “Today is Saturday; Ruth will go to the Vigil service and pray for me.” Such was her faith in the power of prayer that even through my weak prayer, she trusted to receive an alleviation of her sufferings.

The tomb of st John of Kronstadt is on the far right. This is at the very lower level of the St John of Rila women’s Monastery in St Petersburg.

In concluding this brief sketch, dedicated to the memory of this unforgettable matushka, I cannot neglect mentioning two of her most remarkable characteristics: a profound humility and meekness; in these two virtues all the greatness of her soul was expressed… She was never angry at anyone, she never held a grudge against anyone. If someone offended her or was unpleasant, she bore this unmurmuringly and forgave the person from the bottom of her heart. In answer to the question, “Have you any ill will towards anyone?” Matushka invariably answered, “No, not towards anyone.” Being herself forgiving, she taught others to act likewise; she would say, “Don’t be angry; God Himself will show who is right, who is at fault, while we should forgive.”

Aunt never allowed herself to interfere in Batiushka’s affairs; she never tried to put herself forward or stand on a par with him; remaining always in the shadows, she shone with the reflection of his glory, his wondrous Christian deeds; like a tender sister and loving mother, she guarded the common treasure: sick, weak, virtually without the use of her legs, she pleaded with everyone: “Be quiet, Batiushka is sleeping,” “Don’t receive anyone for now, Batiushka is not well.” Batiushka himself knew her soul, highly esteemed her purity, meekness and humility, and said about her: “My wife is an angel.” Did many know that behind the great saint, Fr John, stood a protectress, ready to lay down her life for him? If people did not know it then, may they know it now and may they sincerely pray for this pure eldress, this meek eldress, the servant of God, Elizabeth!

May a boundless gratitude to you-wonderful, self-sacrificing mother-educator–and memory eternal—dear virgin-wife, lamp of the Russian land–live in our hearts, and in those of our children and grandchildren!

The very loved and revered Romanian elder Justin Pârvu fell asleep in the Lord on Saturday – just as the Mother of God had told him he would. Here is a very beautiful word about him by one of his spiritual daughters. A friend of mine did a great work of love and translated it for me to share its spiritual depth as well as a glimpse into the great spiritual person of Elder Justin.

Saturday, 1st of June 2013 23:29

Today was St. Justin’s Day [the Philosopher and Martyr]. And along with the martyr philosopher of the first centuries, we celebrate St. Justin Popovich, the Serbian Elder who fell asleep in the Lord in 1979. And… last but not least, is the day of our father abbot['s repose].

About Father Justin one cannot really speak with words.

A few days ago when he left for the monks monastery, I was able to take a glimpse of him for a few moments. We were very near each other. I closed my eyes as that was how much he was shining. It was like his body became compact light. I thought of Tabor. I was heartbroken [with] regret that I might have ever upset him with something. However, I felt I was flying…

When I first met him I knew that the Spirit of God was dwelling in this man, to a greater extent than in any other Romanian in a radius of several centuries. Naturally, I followed [him]. The world with all its riches and glory cannot be compared to the joy of the Gospel written in a human heart.

Last week, for the 30 seconds during which I had the honor and happiness to be allowed to see him on the bed of suffering, I had proof that vertical eternity is really CLOSE to the human heart. I saw a prince of Truth crucified on the nation’s cross and embraced tightly by the risen Christ. Beyond amazement, while doing the due prostration, I lived to a total intensity that for that particular moment, I was worth being born – to see the union between God Himself and a great martyr, to understand the beyond nature fullness of love, to look at the indescribable greatness of martyrdom is definitely the biggest honor I’ve ever lived. It’s good that we are eternal, so that we have the time to thank God!

Whilst kissing father Justin’s hand it was as if I had reached the source of music, the prototype of harmony for which the universe was created towards MAN, I was only able to say in [my] mind: I love you father, with my whole being…!

Among Christians there is no separation: the Holy Spirit and the Body and Blood of Christ unite us all in the Father, without time and space in the greatest happiness. Glory to Thee, Who alone does wonders!

May you live in us, Blessed Father, as God lives in you!

A spiritual daughter of Father Justin Pârvu from Paltin (Maple) Monastery

(Source)

(The following is from the book Elder Hadji-Georgis the Athonite (1808-1886) by Elder Paisios of Mount Athos, pp. 44-47)

For himself, the Elder [Hadji-Georgis] would recall the following story which hιs Elder Father Neophytos had told him so that he would endure with joy the trials and pains of asceticism for the salvation of his soul.

“Once, a man who was ill lost his patience and cried out to the Lord asking to be relieved from his terrible pains. An angel then appeared and told him:

‘The All-Merciful God had heard your prayer and will grant your petition, but under one condition. Instead of one year with torments on earth by which every man is cleansed from sin like gold in fire, you will agree to spend three hours in hell. Because your soul needs to be cleansed with the trials of illness, normally you would have to endure sickness for another year. Since this seems difficult for you, think of what hell means where all sinners go. For this reason try it if you wish for three hours only, and then with the prayers of the Holy Church you will be saved.’

The sick man thought, ‘One year of torments on earth is a very long time. It is better to be patient for three hours in hell,’ he told the angel.

The angel then gently took the man’s soul in his hands, left it in hell, and withdrew, saying, ‘I will return in three hours.’

The ever-lasting darkness which reigned, the oppression, the cries of the damned which reached his ears, and their wild appearance all created terrible fear and sorrow in the unfortunate man. He beheld and heard torments everywhere. In this immense abyss of hell there was no sound of joy to be heard. Only the fiery eyes of demons could be seen in the darkness, waiting to tear him apart.

The wretched man began to tremble and cry aloud, but only the abyss answered his cries and screams. It seemed to him that entire ages of torments had passed, and while he expected the angel to come at any moment, this did not happen.

Finally, despairing that he would not see Paradise, he began to moan and cry; but no one cared. The sinners in hell only thought about themselves, and the demons rejoiced in their torments. But behold, the sweet radiance of the angel appeared in the abyss.

With an angelic smile he stood over the tormented man and asked him, ‘So, how are you faring, O man?’

‘I would not believe that there could be deceit even among angels,’ the tormented man whispered.

‘What do you mean by that?’ asked the angel.

‘What do you mean by what do I mean?’ continued the torments man. ‘You promised that you would take me from here in three hours, and since then years, rather, whole centuries have passed with unbearable torments.’

‘Blessed man, what years? What ages?’ the surprised angel said. ‘Only one hour has passed since I left, and you must stay here another two hours.’

‘What? Two hours?’ Oh. I cannot bear it. I do not have the strength. If it is possible and if it is the will of God, I beseech you, take me from here. It would be better to suffer for years on earth until the Day of Judgement; just take me out of hell. Have pity on me,’ the tormented man cried out, raising his hands to the angel.

‘Very well,’ replied the angel. ‘The Good God as Loving Father will have mercy on you.’

With these words he opened his eyes and saw that, as before, he was in his bed of illness”.

With such thoughts the Elder mortified all his senses, because interest in the salvation of one’s soul humbles the flesh and deadens the passions. After such asceticism, and from such patience and perseverance while going through such terrible pains [he was badly slandered in his life], and because of his humble thoughts, which brought him to believe that he was very sinful and that he had to cleanse his soul through illness… it was natural that an abundance of the grace of God was granted to him so that he never became ill during his entire life.

“Pray to St. John of San Francisco for your husband. St. John was a very holy man,” the priestmonk told me as I turned the door handle to leave the room.

“Okay,” I said shrugging, not fully realizing just how holy St. John was.

I had wanted to become Orthodox for a couple months, but was wary of converting while my husband was a candidate for ordination in the Anglican church. My struggle to remain in the Anglican church was the source of much tension in our, so far, four month long marriage. I remember, like it was yesterday, explaining to my husband why I thought it was best for him to wait to be ordained: I felt I was not mature enough to be a priest’s wife. And although I truly didn’t feel mature enough at that stage in my life (I was only 22 years old), the real reason I wanted him to wait was because I secretly wanted us to convert to Orthodoxy. John agreed to wait and humbly put his four-year-long desire to be ordained to the side.

Let me take a step back however, and briefly explain our history. Although I was raised Catholic, when I went to World Youth Day in Toronto in 2002 I felt that it was time for me to find a more traditional church. My brother – whom I deeply loved and respected – had converted to traditional Anglicanism and his conversion had planted a seed. (We had never heard of the Orthodox Church at that point in our lives). I began to think: Perhaps there is a better form of Catholicism outside the Catholic Church. During University I too became Anglican and grew closer to my brother’s friend (who was also a convert to Anglicanism from, well, nothing). We were married. Eventually he became an Orthodox priest, Fr. John. For what felt like an eternity however, he was just stubborn John, not interested in Orthodoxy while my brother, sister-in-law and younger sister committed to becoming Orthodox. I was left longing to join them.

In Korea, 2006.

As time went by my desire to be Orthodox grew ever stronger and my conviction to remain in the Anglican church ever weaker. After only five months of marriage I became a catechumin in the Orthodox Church and stopped going to the Anglican church altogether. Tensions rose, a lot of people were upset with me, but I needed to follow what I thought was right for my soul.

So, needless to say, I sought guidance from a priestmonk and was advised to pray to St. John. On my way home to New Brunswick I was asked if I would be willing to take a later flight in exchange for a flight voucher. I had a long stay-over at my next destination so I didn’t mind sticking around the airport a bit longer. I thought nothing of the voucher since we were moving to South Korea in a month or so and didn’t expect to fly anywhere in North America in the meantime. (We decided to move to South Korea – together with my brother and sister-in-law – to teach English since until that point our future plans only consisted of John being ordained in the Anglican church).

Once I arrived home I started reading the biography of St. John of Shanghai and San Francisco. Late one night I read a story about a nurse who started to go blind and felt that if only she could put some water from the pool of Siloam in her eyes she’d be healed. The next day, while the nurse was visiting St. John’s tomb, a woman who had just returned from Jerusalem gave the nurse some water she brought back from the pool of Siloam. The woman put the water in her eyes while standing over St. John and was healed. She believed the water was brought to her through St. John’s intercession.

I suddenly had this strong feeling that if only I could visit St. John in San Fransisco my John would become Orthodox. Then I remembered the flight voucher. I didn’t think there would be any available flights to California since the voucher seemed quite limited. I wanted to get out of bed and check online for a ticket right then but I made myself practice a little self-control and wait until morning.

The next morning I found an available flight to San Fransisco that the voucher covered. We were about three weeks away from moving to South Korea, so I knew I needed to act fast. I checked the dates for that coming weekend and lo and behold, what day would I arrive? July 2. I was flabbergasted, the saint’s own feast day. St. John had set that up, I felt. I couldn’t believe it, truly I was being shown just what a “wonderworker” this holy man was.

I arrived at the cathedral and spent as much time there as I was able – whenever the doors were open. I prayed and lit candles. I lovingly kissed the saint’s relics. And I simply stood and looked on him with a great deal of awe and admiration. I felt reassured that through the prayers of this great saint my husband’s heart would be softened and his mind would be enlightened.

On my last visit to the Joy of All who Sorrow cathedral (where St. John rests) I met a wonderful priestmonk, Fr. James, and even greater blessings unfolded. He was there with a Greek family from Canada and he took us all to the Old Cathedral (where St. John served), served a moleben, prayed over us individually with St. John’s Bishop’s mantle, and then took me to St. Tikhon’s orphanage where I was able to see St. John’s cell, sit in his chair, and venerate in his chapel. I was so overwhelmed with all the blessings St. John sent me. How could I doubt for a second that my husband wouldn’t be completely transformed through this saint’s prayers? Of course in the months that followed I was impatient and discouraged my husband didn’t seem changed. But I didn’t understand that we become blind to the spiritual transformation of a person when we have particular expectations of them.

John took longer to come around than I wanted, but in October of the same year he began coming to the Orthodox church where we were living in South Korea, and even started fasting. The day I saw him using a prayer rope on our way home from work, however, was the day I realized St. John’s prayers had finally fully penetrated my husband’s heart and I was ashamed I ever doubted the saint, that great wonderworker and superb servant of Christ. I wish I could say my “unbelieving” husband was sanctified by his “believing” wife, but in truth my husband was “sanctified” by the prayers of one who became sanctified even in our latter times.

And that is how St. John Maximovitch became, or rather offered himself as, our “slava.” May we have his blessing!

The virgin Fevronia, confesses Christ;

Before judgment standing, bloody and pale.

As a palm branch, the young Fevronia;

From beautiful fruit, a branch became heavy.

And to Selinus she speaks: “A Bridegroom, have I,

And no type of honour, from you do I accept.

Christ is my glory, Christ is my pride;

O yes, the beautiful countenance of my Bridegroom!

Cut off, cut off my feet – paths they have travelled!

Cut off, cut off my hands – work they have completed!

Cut out, cut out my tongue – with my heart I will pray!

Smash, smash my mouth – with my heart, I will speak!

Whip, crush the body – why do I need the body?

A more beautiful garment, the Bridegroom has prepared;

Among many holy ones, in the heavens above;

Among the angels, in sweet Paradise.

Do not think Selinus, that when I depart,

That the fury of your life will die.

But hear me and remember: behold the same day

Before the Living God, together we will go:

You as a torturer and I, tortured by you,

Each, his deeds, will bring with him.