St. Anna of Larissa and Her Son John

(Source)

In the Middle Byzantine period, 9th century to mid-10th century, we have yet another holy figure of the city of Larissa, Venerable Anna and her son John. The life of Saint Anna came from the Director of State Archives, Mr. Stavros Galoulis, from Codex Vaticanus Graecus 1558 (ff. 71v-73r), which is a Menaion for June from the 16th century. Her memory is celebrated on June 13th. In the Synaxaria Selecta of the Church of Constantinople it is written: “Our Venerable Mother Anna and her son John.” St. Nikodemos the Hagiorite writes in his Synaxaristes: “On this day our Venerable Mother Anna and her son John. Mother and Son, Anna and John; they both appeared dwelling in heaven.” It goes on to give a narrative from Paul of Monemvasia (10th cent.) from his work A Narrative of Virtuous and Godly Men and Women. Lastly, her life is also included in the New Synaxaristes of the Orthodox Church for the month of June.

The occasion for the writing of the Life as told by Mark, founder of a monastery in Constantinople, was a meeting he had with a hieromonk and all that this hieromonk confided in him regarding this Saint. This hieromonk traveled by sea from Rome to Constantinople. The ship that carried him was forced at one point, because of the winds, to stop at an uninhabited island of the Adriatic. The hieromonk took advantage of this forced docking of the ship to walk around the island.

He had not gone far when, as the same confessed, he saw the “shadow of a naked person” telling him: “Man of God, if you wish to see my insignificance and to accord my humility the benefit of your prayers, throw me one of your garments; for I am a woman and naked, as you can see. It would be quite improper for me to show myself to your priestly perfection.” The hieromonk obeyed the wishes of the Saint and offered her a garment. Then the Saint turned towards the East, knelt, and upon getting up she thanked God for making her worthy to meet a priest. The hieromonk did not lose the opportunity to ask who she was: “Where are you from, my lady? How did you come here and how long have you been living on this island?” The Saint willingly responded to this question: “I am from the country of Greece, most worthy Father, from the city of Larissa, the daughter of poor parents. When they died and left me an orphan, one of the ruling class took pity on me and received me into his house. He nourished me and raised me with care as though I were his own daughter. When I came of age that Christ-loving man married me to his only son as his wife, paying no attention to my poverty and lowly birth.”

The choice of the husband for his bride was not favorable to his relatives and friends. Their reactions to the marriage with a poor and insignificant woman was fierce. He, of course, tried in every way to repel it. He would say: “I am pleased with whatever my holy father has done for me. Since he raised her and knew her to be of great value and beauty, his first considerations were not riches and noble birth, but virtue which is attractive to God; and that is what he gave me.” His relatives continued to revile him daily. Anna, seeing her husband suffering, decided to leave secretly. In this way she departed Larissa, “taking nothing but the clothes I stood in,” and “with God’s guidance,” as she says, “I came to this island – without having realized that I was pregnant.”

Nobody was beside her to support her. Her son was born on the deserted island of the Adriatic. She says: “When the nine months had passed I gave birth to a male child. I cut up the clothes I was wearing to make swaddling clothes for him and I raised him…. The child is now thirty years old and naked, as am I. Everyday, together with me, he offers hymns to God with his thoughts turned toward heaven, himself a reflection of divine beauty. Every day I have implored God to have mercy on my humility and to send a priest to illuminate my son by holy baptism.” For this reason she pleads with the hieromonk: “I beseech your holiness, Reverend Father, go back to the ship and bring your priestly vestments and some bread to illuminate my son, and to celebrate the Liturgy so that you can permit us to communicate of the worthy and honorable body and blood of Christ our God.”

From this pious priest she also asked the following: “I ask this also of your holiness: that you would bring a tunic for my son to put on after holy baptism, and also that you not tell anybody about me.” Upon hearing this, the hieromonk made a prostration and went to the ship to prepare for the Mystery of Baptism and Holy Communion without telling anyone anything. She waited for him and in turn led him to the place where her son was found. She asked her son to appear before the priest of God, saying: “Come out, child, and reverence the one who has come to illumine you.” Her son obeyed, and having appeared he reverenced the priest. The priest did the same to him.

At a nearby spring the hieromonk catechized and baptized the son, giving him, according to the Synaxaria Selecta and the Synaxaristes of St. Nikodemos, the name John. The Narrative of Paul of Monemvasia and the New Synaxaristes do not mention the giving of a name following the Mystery of Baptism. Rather, it says in the words of the hieromonk: “When I had celebrated the divine mystery, both of them partook of the spotless body and blood of Christ our God.”

As the two holy figures were leaving, St. Anna asked the hieromonk for a final favor: “When you go back to the ship, for the Lord’s sake, say nothing of what you have seen. When (with God’s help) you return to Constantinople, if you want to speak of what the Lord has revealed to you, then do so; but withhold the [name of the] island, lest by hearing the story, some persons might come and find us.” How did the pious hieromonk react? Let us listen to what was said to Paul of Monemvasia: “With tears in my eyes I worshipped the God who works strange and remarkable things beyond number and makes provision for those who seek Him with their whole heart and keep His divine precepts. Thus I returned to the ship and said nothing to a soul until I came back to this great City.”

According to the Life in Codex Vaticanus Graecus 1558, Anna and and her son, having thanked the priest, “surrendered their holy souls into the hands of God.”

Holy saint of God pray to God for us!

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That Trials of Illness Cleanse the Soul

(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.

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The Person of Elder Justin of Romania

Here is a very beautiful word about the very loved and revered Romanian elder Justin Pârvu 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.

[UPDATE: I'm sorry if I scared everyone half to death with an earlier edition of this post. I was informed that Elder Justin had reposed, but he hadn't. Please pray for his health - whatever God wills. Forgive me!]

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 name day].

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)

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The Wife of a Saint: Matushka Elizabeth

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!

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St. Constantine the Great

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.

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St. Pachomius and Cenobitic Monasticism

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).

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St. Isidore the Martyr

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.

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Who Hinders Us from Attaining this Height?

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.

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St. Lydia the New Martyr of Russia

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.

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The Grace of God Excludes No One: An Encouraging Word for the Fast

(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.

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