An elder said:
“Sometimes we say that we have love. What kind is it though? I am referring to spiritual love. I am not talking about worldly love. How can one reach the state of considering all mankind as his brothers and sisters; One may hear that someone is a heathen, is a Jehovah’s Witness… Yes, but he is nonetheless a brother in the flesh. Not of course in spirit, as we Orthodox are to one another. But he is still a brother in the flesh. We ought to shed tears for him as well. In another instance, if an Orthodox were to convert and become a Jehovah’s Witness or a Catholic, wouldn’t I weep? Now, so many millions exist. How much have I wept? So then, I am very far from having true love
There was once an ascetic who was known to just about all the caves on the Athonite peninsula. He had a bright and joyful face. He would place a cup to gather water and it would take twenty-four hours for it to be filled. Such was his patience and perseverance. He would ask in his prayers to die on the day of the Elevation of the Holy Cross, for the fathers say that there are no tolls to which the soul needs to give an account to. He was possessionless to the utmost. He owned nothing. But that which was characteristic to this blessed figure was his Christ-like love. If he heard of someone being sick somewhere, he would hurry off. To nurse, to serve, to look after. He had taken care of fifteen elderly and sick hermits!! Man of God. You became truly an imitator of the Lord Whose example of serving others you followed zealously.
Elder Gideon the Lavriotan proved to be simple Paul the Second. He would pray whenever he saw an aeroplane flying. “What are you doing there, Father Gideon?” “I am praying, using my prayer rope,” he would reply with simplicity, “so that the planes won’t crash. So that people will reach their destination safely.
The charitable elder Charalambos from New Skete was bedridden with a very serious illness. He was visited by Father K. “How are you getting along, Father?” asked elder Charalambos. “With your blessing, Geronda, I am well.” “Do you have food?” “I have a little dried bread.” He then got up with much effort, stretched his thin legs as much as he needed to reach the shelf, and took down a loaf of bread. “Take it, my brother and father, and pray for me. This action strengthened me, so much so, that it remained fresh in my memory for the rest of my life – Father K. related. Even though Elder Charalambos was wrestling with death, the caring for his brother did not allow his mind to be at rest…
An elder said: “We will even cry over the ruins of the Skete, for love does not exist. So much money… Give at least to a poor person, so that you shall have a small house in heaven.”
Elder Avvakoum was a disciple of love. With much self-sacrifice and self denial he took in and looked after, for many months, a youth who was suffering from tuberculosis. Joyfully he nursed him, caring for him like a loving mother. Even though he himself was fasting, he nourished his patient with meat and other nutritious foods. He fought hard with the young man’s affliction when, in repentance and having confessed his sins, death finally took him from his loving care. Before the young man’s repose, the elder had tonsured him a monk, giving him the name Fanourios. Another time some pilgrims found Elder Avvakoum crying in his cell alone. When they asked him what the matter was, he told them that shortly before their arrival, others who had visited had told him about some blind children who were suffering in the world, and he could not hold back his tears! True love, unselfish, put into practice.
Rightfully has it been said about Elder Avvakoum: “What’s certain is that this man attracted his fellow men toward him like a healing fountain.”
Elder N. gave away every single thing he had. This ever memorable monk had as his credo “God loves a cheerful giver” (2 Cor. 9:7).
A charitable synodia of five brothers lived at the Skete of St. Anne. They would fill the tagaria of any fathers who would come for vigils, with lemons and oranges picked from their orchard.
And again, other fathers would gather vegetables from their garden and put them on the often-walked paths of the Skete. Whoever wished, be the monk or layman, pilgrim or worker, was able to freely partake of the fathers charity, taking whatever and as much as one needed. In distant paths, next to several prayer stands, even to this day, you can find a little bread and olives left for any unknown tired traveller. This constitutes the continuation of brother-loving athonite hospitality in Panagia’s Garden, where the monks see the stranger as Christ Himself. This is in accordance with His word: “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me and “In as much as you did it to one of the least of these, my brethren, you did it to me” (Matt. 25:35).
Near the holy Monastery of Vatopedi, at the Skete of Kolitzou, lived St. Agapios who laboured worthily in love both towards God and his fellow man. He was captured by the Turks and after having remained as a servant for twelve years, was freed miraculously by the Lady Theotokos and returned to Mount Athos to his Geronda. He however, reprimanded St. Agapios for having secretly left his master, who in turn obeyed,returned, and with his virtue and holiness convinced the Turk and his two sons to come to the Holy Mountain where he baptized them and tonsured them monks.
Echoing in my ears and in my insensitive heart are the mellifluous words, words filled with love and desire for God, of that wise contemporary teacher, priestmonk Athanasius the Iviritan: “Heavenly pleasure and enjoyment beyond this world is the moment when man contemplates the mystery of God’s Incarnation, the Divine Plan for the salvation of mankind through the All-pure Virgin. Mary and Jesus, Jesus and Mary, these two all-delightful and sweetest names, ‘Behold, this is Paradise’
“The Lord brought me down from theoria to practice, a struggling disciple would say. He had been looking after his infirm senile Geronda who was suffering from prostate infections and frequent urination. Every night this monk would remain awake, looking after his Geronda.
Priestmonk loannikios
Publications of the Holy Monastery of
St. Gregory Palamas
Koufalia – Thessaloniki 2003
