Another said:
‘Our love should be brotherly both towards relatives and strangers.
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On the treacherous Karoulia lived a Russian ascetic Father Zosimas. A man of perfect love. He would help the sick, would run to anyone in need. During the war his handicraft was making baskets and in this way he provided all the hermits with food.
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The virtuous Father Gabriel of New Skete would say
“Even if a man partakes of the Holy Mysteries daily, even if he gives away all his possessions as alms, even if he reduces himself to skin and bones from fasting and the making of prostrations, he will not find compassion and mercy before God unless he acquires love. It is for this reason that St. Paul, when praising love, wrote: Though I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become as sounding brass or a clanging cymbal'” (I Cor. 13:1-3).
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One hundred and fifty years had passed from the days of St. Gerontios who was the founder of St. Anne’s Skete. It was then that a giant of asceticism, the elder Damaskinos, lived in a dry kalyve on the northern side of the Skete. He was one of the strongest pillars of the Skete of the sixteenth century. Dried bread and water -that was his food. He would pray with a rare kind of loving warmth and compassion for the whole world. Burned by love, he would melt like a candle.
He would say in his prayers:
“Lord, make all idolaters, all the unbelievers, the atheists and heretics to repent, to learn the truth, to believe in Thee. To become ‘one flock with one shepherd’ (John 10:16). To glorify Thee, the only true God in Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Glory to Thee my God. May no one be lost, my God.”
Many a time he would go into ecstasy and have visions of great mysteries and would thus be filled with divine joy and a glorifying disposition
When my ever memorable Geronda wished for the book Memories of Panagia ‘s Garden to be written. he was ill. He himself was unable to write it. For this reason,
when there was some free time, unforgettable moments for me, he would narrate and I, least of all, would compile what he said with his blessing.
We were writing once about his spiritual brother monk Stephanos, the last one remaining from their Synodia, whom we met, corresponded with and were many times extended hospitality by in his Kalyve:
“We did not have a pack animal to transport our loads. We had however, the blessed ‘pack carrier of love’, whose name was Father Stephanos. Carrying on his back an oversized tagari, he would climb from the dock uphill saying the Jesus Prayer, most of the time out loud. The fathers of the Skete knew that Father Stephanos was coming, for they could hear from afar the well-known sound of his voice. Lord Jesus Christ … have mercy on me.’ Frequently, even though he was conversing with someone on any particular topic, he would, with simplicity, repeat the ‘prayer’ out loud, remaining indifferent if the person he was with felt awkward.
Being a Spartan, he had a harsh manner, was un- pretentious, forward and solemn. A fearsome monk, you would say, if you met him for the first time. However, he had an unbelievably sensitive heart, full of love and compassion (for the poor). On Mount Athos personalities are straightened out, become simpler, discard the masks of social politeness and pretentious courtesy. They are sanctified in the font of spontaneous, unpretentious love which you will not find easily out in the world.
I will never forget Father Stephanos’ love and self- denial. He always wanted to wear the most frugal clothing within our synodia, to do the heaviest jobs, to eat the worst food. He would collect the left-over food from the day before, put it in a bowl, add a little water and would eat it placidly. Elder Paisios would often tease him…
Hey, Elder Stephanos, do you remember America’s delicious foods which we used to enjoy like kings? Now look, you’re eating this watered-down thing.”
He would nod agreeably, almost with indifference, emptying the bowl with such pleasure as if he were eating a gourmet meal! His Kalyve to him was a little palace in heaven, which surpassed, in both comfort and happiness the skyscrapers of America, and his food was the tastiest in the world…
When Father Stephanos became ill with cirrhosis of the liver, we visited him in his Kalyve. He used to sleep on a table! We offered to take him to Thessaloniki for therapy. He refused adamantly. lf our Panagia wishes to cure me, that is fine. Whatever Panagia wants and as Panagia knows. But I am not leaving Athos,’ said this ever memorable one, who was so hard on himself yet so kind to his poor brothers. His enormous sack displayed the struggles of his compassionate heart as he travelled on foot through rocky, desolate places bringing food and medlicine to the hermits in need, Many a time using a mule, he would do this at night so that his virtue might not be known,”
My Geronda once told me
“There was an old monk in St. Anne’s Skete named Father Petros. He was ninety-five years old. He would sit on his balcony and would mend the socks of some of the fathers of the Skete. And in doing this he tried to be discreet, keeping in mind what the Bible says:…. do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.. “(Matt. 6:3).
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An aged and poor ascetic said to one of his neighbours: “Come, my brother, and see the love of the fathers. When I open my door I see that they have left out for me whatever I have been needing. Bread, fruit, cheese, fish. Glory to Thee O God. Our Panagia provides for everything
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“To pray for the world is as if you are shedding blood,” St. Silouan the Athonite would say.
And again: “Our brother is our life
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The characteristic of spontaneous, flowing, hagioritic, evangelical love was recognized in Elder Avvakoum of the holy Monastery of Lavra when he served as an infirmarian.
Days, nights, months and years, be it summer or winter, Elder Avvakoum was bent over the washtub. He would wash, with joy and without complaining, for the bedridden sick brothers as well as many lay people in need. Running from the washtub to the kitchen, he would prepare their food, feed the sick and would then change their clothes so that they would always be clean
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I was privileged to meet the coenebitic elder Modestos of the holy Monastery of Konstamonitou. This man was a tireless scholar of divine love. The majority of his discussions revolved around love, this central axis of spiritual life. He would often say:
“Unless we feel that all mankind are our brothers and sisters, and that we are their brothers and sisters, the Holy Spirit will never dwell in our heart. The Lord loves everyone the same. The biggest sinner and the holiest man. Our heart also should embrace everyone. Love tolerates, gives in, endures… God is love’ “([ John 4:8).
Priestmonk loannikios
Publications of the Holy Monastery of
St. Gregory Palamas
Koufalia – Thessaloniki
