Pilgrimage to Georgia — Day 1: Tbilisi

Christ is Risen!

With the blessing of His Eminence Metropolitan Silouan Oner, a group of 29 pilgrims from St George’s Cathedral, together with brothers and sisters from other Orthodox parishes in the UK, began a six day pilgrimage to Georgia, one of the most ancient Orthodox Christian lands.

The group departed London on the evening of 30 April and arrived in Tbilisi in the early hours of Friday 1 May after a five-hour flight.

Holy Trinity Cathedral – View from the Hotel

Walking Tbilisi

Our guide Beka welcomed the group at the airport and led them to the hotel for a short rest before the programme began. The hotel stands close to the magnificent Holy Trinity Cathedral of Tbilisi, which the group will visit the following day.

The day focused on a walking tour of the city.

Leaning Tower

The pilgrims crossed the Mtkvari River (Kura River as it’s known internationally) and passed the Berikaoba Sculpture of dancing people and historic Leaning Tower of Tbilisi before reaching the oldest surviving church in the city, the Christians have worshipped there continuously since the sixth century, apart from a short interruption during the Soviet period.

The church is closely connected with the Ancha Icon of the Saviour, linked to the Image of Edessa, the miraculous imprint of Christ’s face sent to King Abgar. The original icon is now kept in the Georgian National Museum, while the church preserves a wonderworking copy. Archpriest Mikhail welcomed the group, and the pilgrims venerated the icon and received anointing with oil from its lamp.

The group then passed the residence of the Patriarchate of Georgia, where the late Catholicos-Patriarch of All Georgia Ilia II lived and served for many years. Memory eternal.

The next stop was the Sioni Cathedral, whose present structure dates to the twelfth century. Until 2004 it served as the main cathedral of the Georgian Church and the seat of the Patriarch. The cathedral keeps a relic of the skull of the Apostle Thomas and the Cross of Saint Nino, the Enlightener of Georgia (photos prohibited). It also serves as the resting place of many Georgian patriarchs, including Patriach Ilia II of thrice-blessed memory.

The group continued through the narrow streets of the Old City and reached Vakhtang Gorgasali Square, where they paused for lunch.

After lunch the pilgrims explored the Abanotubani district with its sulphur baths and visited the Leghvtakhevi Waterfall.

The group arrived during Vespers. The interior frescoes have not survived, but the church keeps the relics of the holy Queen and Martyr Shushanik of Armenia. It also commemorates the one hundred thousand martyrs of Tbilisi, who in 1226 refused to trample on the holy icons under the orders of Jalal ad-Din Mingburnu and accepted martyrdom. Their bodies were cast into the river, which according to tradition ran red with their blood.

The final church of the day was the Metekhi Church, dedicated to the Nativity of the Mother of God. The church stands on the left bank of the Mtkvari River, and its present form dates to the thirteenth century.

After a short rest the pilgrims gathered for a traditional Georgian meal. Among the foods weee famous, khachapuri (warm bread filled with melted cheese) and khinkali (dumplings filled with meat and broth). The evening included traditional music and Georgian dances.

This concluded the first day of the pilgrimage. Glory to God!

TOUCHING HOLINESS

Christ is Risen!

My recent five-day “pilgrimage“ to Thessaloniki was filled with blessings and holy encounters with friends on earth and friends in heaven. These meetings have brought me spiritual refreshment and renewed energy. Visits to monasteries, all-night vigils, meals with Orthodox families — such spiritual nourishment and Greek hospitality provide an excellent sufficiency for soul and body.

I was reflecting on the Western concept of holiness as against Orthodox Theosis. Western holiness mainly consists of individual moral improvement. Any notional idea of a greater good lies somewhere in the adherence to Biblical interpretation.

The Eastern Orthodox way is not a concept but a mystical experience, an incarnational reality through revelation to the senses. One can see holiness, one can smell holiness, taste it, hear it and touch it. Holiness is essentially participation in the Life of the Holy Trinity. Since God has become man, the Word has become flesh, and all our senses are to be made holy. Everything that we bless in Christ becomes holy and sanctified since we are made in the image of God and have put on Christ. We are being formed and transformed through grace.

This then is not just moral perfection gained through individual merits, it is transfiguration: it is participation in the Love of God within the Body of Christ, His Church. We Orthodox truly ”worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.”

In the beauty and Truth of the Holy Liturgy, we smell the incense representing our prayers ascending to the heavens, we see the Icons of our Saviour Jesus Christ, His Most Holy Mother and the saints, and we venerate their image. We hear the mellow byzantine chanting of the psalms, the scriptures and petitions, we taste the Body and Blood of Christ, we greet one another and holy relics with a holy kiss and take a blessing from the hands of priests.

I draped myself over the holy relics of St Demetrios when in Thessaloniki. That physical presence brought joy and strength. I met Geronda T. during my visit and wanted to be close to him, to take his blessing, to kiss and hold his hand. I wanted to be near him to enjoy his light that he has from Christ. When one meets a holy person you just want to be in their presence and bathe in the light of Christ. It is no wonder the first disciples left everything they had to follow Christ, the Light of the World.

“The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.

We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

“Place your hand in my side, and believe!”

Eν Χριστώ Abouna

The Beauty of “Wasting” Our Time

My husband thinks I’m wasting my time!

Every Wednesday morning, I drive to the Galini Nursing Home. I don’t have any people there; in fact, I didn’t know a soul when all this started. I just go there, sit in the common area, and knit.

I’ve been doing this for four years. I’m 71 years old, a retired teacher, and time is the only thing I have in abundance.

At first, the nurses were concerned. “Ma’am, are you looking for someone in particular? A room?”

“No,” I would say. “I’m just here to sit for a while.”

Eventually they stopped asking. They assumed, I guess, that I was a lonely soul with nowhere else to go.

But I had a plan. I watched the residents pass by, some in walkers, some in wheelchairs, almost all with their eyes fixed on the floor. When they saw me knitting, they would stop short. Their eyes followed the rhythm of the needles.

At one point, a woman named Eleni, 84, decided to talk to me. “What’s this going to be?”

“A blanket,” I replied. “For no one in particular.”

“It seems like a lot of work for nothing,” she said with a slight complaint.

“I guess you’re right,” I said with a smile. “Would you like to help me “waste” some time together?”

She looked at me as if I had offered her a miracle. “My hands haven’t touched a thread in thirty years.”

“Great. Then you won’t notice if I slip a stitch.”

She sat down next to me. I gave her the needles, and it was beautiful to watch, her fingers remembering the movements long before her memory recalled them.

By the next month, Mrs. Eleni had brought three friends. Then there were six.

The centre moved us into the sunny, glass-fronted room and officially christened us “The Needle Company.” We didn’t do anything special; we just sat together, our hands busy, chatting about the weather, our grandchildren, and how pain can be eased. The real change was invisible.

These women began to dress in their good blouses again. They stopped skipping breakfast. A resident, Mrs. Maria, 89, who had not spoken a word since her husband left, began to tell vivid stories of how they sewed uniforms during the war.

The blankets and scarves began to pile up. Colorful, slightly crooked, and completely incomplete. “Where are all these supposed to go?” Mrs. Eleni asked one day.

“To the ‘Homeless Hostels’ and the ‘Youth Shelters,’” I said.

So every month, we sent a box full of warmth, made by women the world had largely forgotten.

Last winter, a young man appeared at the reception desk of the Unit. He asked to see the women who made the blankets. The staff hesitated, but eventually led him to the sunny room. He was holding a blue-and-yellow scarf, filled with uneven rows of knitting.

“They gave it to me at the shelter facility in December,” he told us, his voice trembling. “I slept with it every night on the bench. There was a tag hidden in the edges: ‘Hand-knitted by Eleni, 84 years old. You are not alone.’”

Mrs. Eleni shivered, putting her hand to her heart.

“Now I’m back on my feet,” he said. “I found a room and a job that starts on Monday. I just had to come here and tell you… no one had ever made anything just for me. This scarf made me feel like I deserved to be saved.”

We were all in tears.

My husband still shakes his head every time I leave on Wednesdays. She thinks I just drive across town to gossip and knit with strangers.

But Mrs. Helen passed away last Tuesday. Quietly, in her sleep. At the funeral, her son sought me out. “My mother lived for Wednesdays,” she said. “She told me you gave her purpose again. You gave her spark back.”

Our circle still meets every week. Seven women, ranging in age from 78 to 95, create “awful” scarves for people who desperately need to know that someone, somewhere, is thinking of them.

I don’t solve the world’s biggest problems. I just sit in a sunny room and knit with some incredible women. But I’ve learned that sometimes, that’s exactly the way to save a life.

Embrace Great Lent: 55 Maxims for Spiritual Renewal

Dear brothers and sisters, I wish you all a blessed Great Lent! This 40-Day Fast is considered in Orthodox tradition, “the tithe of the year”, a spiritual offering of roughly 10% of our time (40 days plus Holy Week) to God, intended for intense spiritual renewal, prayer and fasting. It acts as a reminder that all time, all possessions and all gifts belong to God, encouraging us to reorient our lives away from passions and toward Him.

Especially for this time, I find +Rev. Thomas Hopko’s 55 Maxims are most relevant, those “55 things that a believer, very simply, would do if they were really a believer and were really obedient to God and wanted to live the way God would have us live”. These 55 Maxims may appear too practical and down-to-earth, but are in truth profound and deep. May we put these 55 Maxims into practice for the following 40 Days and ever, Amen!

1 Be always with Christ and trust God in everything. Never forget God.

2 Pray as you can, not as you think you must. Pray as God inspires you to pray, not as you want to, but as God gives. And for a Christian, that would mean in one’s heart, in one’s room, and in one’s Church.

3  Have a keepable rule of prayer done by discipline. You can’t just pray when you feel like it. You have to pray by discipline, the times of day where you would remember God and say your prayers.

4 Say the Lord’s Prayer several times each day. Just as one is getting into one’s car or walking into one’s office or into one’s classroom or before eating a meal, when waking in the morning, when going to sleep at night. Just say the Lord’s Prayer. It’s the prayer that the Lord gave, a short prayer, but it contains everything that a human being needs to pray if Christ is crucified, raised, and glorified.

5 Repeat a short prayer when your mind is not occupied. This short prayer could simply be “Lord have mercy” or “Lord Jesus Christ have mercy.” The person just might say “Jesus.” A person might say “God,” but just some short prayer that fills the mind when the mind is not working in order to have the remembrance of God in one’s life, in one’s heart.

6 Make some prostrations when you pray. Kneel down. Bend over. Bow down. Use your body. As St. Ephraim said, “If your body is not praying when you’re praying, you’re not really praying.” Prayer is not just an activity of the mind and heart. It’s an activity of the whole person.

7 Eat good foods in moderation and fast on fasting days.

8 Practice silence, inner and outer. Just sit for a few minutes every day in total silence. Turn off all the appliances. Open oneself to God. Don’t think about anything. Watch the thoughts that come, and turn them over to God.

9 Sit in silence 20 to 30 minutes each day.

10 Do acts of mercy in secret.

11 Go to liturgical services regularly.

12 Go to Confession and Holy Communion regularly.

13 Do not engage intrusive thoughts and feelings.

14 Reveal all your thoughts and feelings to a trusted person regularly.

15 Read the scriptures regularly.

16 Read good books, a little at a time.

17 Cultivate communion with the saints.

18 Be an ordinary person, one of the human race. 

19 Be polite with everyone, first of all family members.

20 Maintain cleanliness and order in your home.

21 Have a healthy, wholesome hobby.

22 Exercise regularly.

23 Live a day, even a part of a day, at a time.

24 Be totally honest, first of all with yourself.

25 Be faithful in little things.

26 Do your work, then forget it.

27 Do the most difficult and painful things first.

28 Face reality.

29 Be grateful.

30 Be cheerful.

31 Be simple, hidden, quiet and small.

32 Never bring attention to yourself.

33 Listen when people talk to you.

34 Be awake and attentive, fully present where you are.

35 Think and talk about things no more than necessary.

36 Speak simply, clearly, firmly, directly.

37 Flee imagination, fantasy, analysis, figuring things out.

38 Flee carnal, sexual things at their first appearance.

39 Don’t complain, grumble, murmur or whine.

40 Don’t seek or expect pity or praise.

41 Don’t compare yourself with anyone.

42 Don’t judge anyone for anything.

43 Don’t try to convince anyone of anything.

44 Don’t defend or justify yourself.

45 Be defined and bound by God, not people.

46 Accept criticism gracefully and test it carefully.

47 Give advice only when asked or when it is your duty.

48 Do nothing for people that they can and should do for themselves.

49 Have a daily schedule of activities, avoiding whim and caprice.

50 Be merciful with yourself and others.

51 Have no expectations except to be fiercely tempted to your last breath.

52 Focus exclusively on God and light, and never on darkness, temptation and sin.

53 Endure the trial of yourself and your faults serenely, under God’s mercy.

54 When you fall, get up immediately and start over.

55. Get help when you need it, without fear or shame.

Pramvir and St Tikhon Orthodox Church

Confronting Demons: An Encounter with Elder Gregory

From a speech by the blessed Elder Gregory, my first spiritual father, from the Holy Hermitage of the Holy Forerunner. In the photograph above, he is on the right, at the monastery of the Holy Forerunner, together with St. Paisios in the middle and Mother Euphemia on the left.

“I will mention an incident that made an impression on me. Here, when I was hearing confessions, a Mother came with her little child, a teenager, just fifteen years old. The child was thoughtful, and his Mother told me that he was sick and that they had read exorcisms on him, that he had been put under a magic spell. The child came in, and when he came, he sat next to me and told me that his whole body was in great pain and that he was suffering greatly.

Of course, I did not say anything because he was experiencing internal turmoil. I told him to go out for a walk, to go outside for a little while, with the thought of going inside the Temple, inside the Church. He accepted, agreed, and we entered the outer Narthex.

He was quite comfortable there; a pilgrim stood before him, but he did not approach the icons. He looked at the icons, somewhat scared. I told him to make a bow to them, but he did not accept. The devil does not bow, of course; the one who was inside him began to react. I told him, “Make your cross,” and he did not do it correctly; he made some hasty movements, as if he were playing the guitar; this was not a cross he made! “Make your cross correctly, my child”, I told him, but he did not make a cross on himself at all, and I thought of a multitude of Christians who go to church regularly and do not make their cross correctly. The cross has great power; we will talk about the Cross another time. The devil trembles a lot at the Cross.

I took the child, and we walked inside the Church (internal narthex, pronaos). When we reached the main Church, the middle part, he was so scared, so agitated that he wanted to leave. “Why did you bring me here for a walk? Didn’t you tell me we were going for a walk? What did you bring me here for?” “Was this the walk?” 

Of course, it was not the child that was talking; it was the demon that was talking. He was very agitated when I put him inside the main church. I don’t know what he would do if I put him inside the sanctuary, the altar area. The devil wasn’t worried outside; he was worried inside the church. The demon is very afraid of the holy relics.

I had an icon of the Virgin Mary with me, and I sneaked it in unnoticed. As soon as I put it on, he started to get agitated, to burn, to sweat. How agitated the demon gets with just an icon of the Virgin Mary! And how bad you do to yourselves, those of you who don’t wear the Holy Cross on you. All Christians must have the Holy Cross with them.

The poor little child then asked me for water. I went into the sanctuary and, along with the water, I added a little holy water. He wouldn’t drink it at all! “No”, he said to me, “give me some water from the tap to drink”. The demon understood that I had put holy water together with plain water in the glass.  That is why it is a very good habit for those of you who, after their morning prayer, drink a little holy water and then go to work.

From this torment of the sick child, we sometimes wonder, my brothers, if these poor children who have demons inside them suffer so much here, in this life, what will happen when they go up there….”

You do understand, don’t you? 

These are a few thoughts I wanted to tell you, my brothers, and sometimes we wonder”.

A Sack of Potatoes

One Saturday morning, a very young woman dressed in black came to the church of Saint Constantine in Glyfada, where we were at the time, holding her two young children in her arms. A 5-year-old girl and a 7-year-old boy. She had lost her husband, who was also very young, and with him she lost the land beneath her feet. She had come to confess to Fr. Constantine, and she had brought her children for Catechism.

Naturally, during her confession, she wondered and asked Fr. Constantine, as she later confided in me, what would happen to her children if she died too! The Father had reassured her that if she died, he would take care of her children, which would be very good for them!

But when she wondered why such great evil had befallen her, and why God did not take pity on her and gave her something she could not bear, then Father asked her:

– May I ask you for a moment for a favour?

– Of course, Father, whatever you want.

– Here outside the sanctuary, they have left a sack of potatoes for me. Should we call your son to bring it here, so I can give it to you?

– Thank you, Father, but my son is only 7 years old. How many kilograms does the sack weigh?

– It is 20 kilograms.

– Well, a 7-year-old child cannot lift a 20-kilogram sack of potatoes!

– Yes, but I want to give it to you. How can he bring it to us?

– How? Should we give him a little bag to put a few potatoes in, as many as he can lift, and bring them to us here, little by little? Or bring them to us little by little with his little hands if you don’t have a bag? What do you say?

– Is this what you are suggesting? Little by little?

– How else? He can’t carry them all at once, since he is a little child.

– Ah! So you are thinking of your child who can’t lift 20 kilos of potatoes, and God doesn’t think of you, who are His child, and gives you more than you can lift?

– Oh Father, what are you saying to me now?

– I’m telling you the truth. God doesn’t think of you, who are His child, while you think of your son?

The sequel is amazing since this advice took root in the family.

Recently, I saw the widow in question by chance on the street and now a grandmother! After we hugged and kissed, she told me that her children got married and had children too, and the family grew, but her daughter’s husband got cancer with all that that entails…

“But”, she tells me, “whenever I say to my daughter, ‘Ah, my child, what you are going through!’, she answers me 40 years after that confession of mine, ‘Mom! Remember the potatoes! I can handle what I’m lifting’ “.

Her son’s wife abandoned them, and the widowed mother says to her son, “Ah, my child, why did that girl leave and leave you? What harm she has done to us!” And my son replies, “Mom! The potatoes! That’s all I can handle!”

“So”, she tells me, “as you can see, potatoes have been on the agenda in our house for 40 years now, and so we can’t complain about anything!”

This was Father Konstantinos. Inventive about everything!

He changed our minds! He gave breath and impetus to our lives! He healed our pains and our souls!

He often said about whining in his speeches, what a soul-destroying disease it is.

(As Much as a Book can Hold, Memories by Fr. Konstantinos Stratigopoulos)

*

That is a powerful sentiment to start the year! Whether those “potatoes” are unexpected challenges or the daily grind, whatever heavy stuff life throws our way, having the resilience to carry them, the perspective to see the harvest ahead, and most importantly, faith and trust in His Providence, makes all the difference. May we all carry our ‘bags of potatoes’, without whining, this year and all our lives! May our “sack” be light, our grip be strong, and our harvest be plentiful. Amen! 

*

The photograph was taken last year at a wedding in Glyfada by a child. The priest dressed in white, holding the Gospel, is the spiritual father of the newlyweds, who had already reposed long before. He was not visible at the time the photo was taken, yet he appeared in the image. One can see the glorious light surrounding him…Saintly Father, please pray for us!!

He is identified as Father Konstantinos Stratigopoulos. More about this saintly Father at a future blog. Your prayers

“On this day, the celestials join with the terrestrials”

Dear brothers and sisters, a blessed Theophany in our hearts!

Today, I attended the church services at the Ascension Church, a church dating back in 1894, in the area of the “castles” or “countrysides” in the city of Thessaloniki. Throughout the long services, I was deeply moved and felt many times “the celestial joining the terrestrials”.

To begin with, I suddenly recalled, most vividly, dear childhood memories with priests, catechists, music teachers and choir masters, long departed from this life, yet so present today! They ‘joined’ us ‘on this day’… This was, after all, the first parish in my life where, other than the Sunday and Feasts liturgies, I also regularly attended piano and choir lessons at its parish classes as a very young child. May their memory be eternal!

Then, my grandmother Styliani also ‘joined’ us. This is the church she used to come for decades and offer her embroidery for charity. A holy widow, her husband died when she was about 25 years old leaving her all alone with two little children between world wars, who spent all her life in prayer and charity works despite her poverty. My childhood memories of her are of a gentle, quiet soul sitting in an armchair, silently praying and embroidering tablecloths. I remember her telling me once how an angel helped her in a dream and explained to her how to embroider a very intricate pattern! We were so connected together, especially through her last confession before her death. (This is a very moving story to be told in more detail another time). May her memory be eternal.

Then, Sister Aggeliki ‘joined’ us. On this day of Theophany, Sister Aggeliki fell asleep in the Lord. What a living signpost! I remembered today all her dedication, patience, prayers, and especially one miracle of hers to a young member of our family. It involved a long trip to the States and a small, yet vital surgical operation ‘photographed’ by her, but this too is another, very moving story to be sometime told in more detail. May her memory be eternal.

Then, Eldress Sophia, the holy “fool for Christ” of Panagia Kleisoura Monastery, ‘joined’ us. I recently found out that when she first arrived to Thessaloniki as a refugee, she spent some time here in this church, serving as a sexton/ sacristan before she departed for Kleisoura monastery. Hence, her icon at the entrance and her relics. More photos here

The more the service advanced, the more ‘celestials were joining with the terrestrials’, and this was felt throughout the whole parish. I only offer a few examples even for myself…

Then, Fr P. started saying the holy prayers of Epiphany:

“That it may become a cleansing of the souls and bodies of all those who in faith draw and partake of it, let us pray to the Lord. Choir… That we may be made worthy to be filled with sanctification through the partaking of this water, by the invisible manifestation of the Holy Spirit, let us pray to the Lord. … That the Lord God may hearken unto the voice of supplication of us sinners and have mercy on us, let us pray to the Lord.”

… Here he just broke down in tears and could not continue! I have never experienced anything like this in all my life in a church or a monastery or even the Jordan river itself! We were all in tears and started silently praying with all our hearts … for some time … In the end, another priest concluded the prayers, and soon a Holy procession followed and the waters at Thermaikos golf, outside, were blessed too.

“Many Christians, with a devout desire, seek to be baptized in the Jordan River, but no matter how many times they enter the Jordan River and how many bottles of holy water we drink, if we do not repent, we will not be saved. Near us, next to us, is the Jordan River. It flows within the Church, it is sweet repentance and confession.
Let us bathe in repentance, because with it all sins are erased. And the bath of repentance is the second baptism. And this bath of Divine baptism, which is called repentance, is done consciously and decisively. I wash, so as not to get dirty again, regardless of whether I fail. But I wash with the decision not to get the robe of my soul dirty again.”
+Elder Ephraim Philotheitis.

Christmas (I)

Image by Linda Richardson

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, Christ is born. Glorify Him. May we too mystically return to our ‘country’, our ‘normal’ lives, after these Twelve Days, by “another way” (cf. Matthew 2:12), like the Magi, radically changed in our hearts! Because there is another way for each one of us. Not the way of the world, not the way of death, not the way of mundane life, of anger and confusion and busyness, of sorrow, sin, loneliness and suffering. But another way, for each one of us, obtainable because of our mystical meeting with Jesus Christ at the Manger, “at the next inn”.

*

Christmas I

By George Herbert

After all pleasures as I rid one day,
My horse and I, both tired, body and mind,
With full cry of affections, quite astray;
I took up the next inn I could find.

There when I came, whom found I but my dear,
My dearest Lord, expecting till the grief
Of pleasures brought me to Him, ready there
To be all passengers’ most sweet relief?

Oh Thou, whose glorious, yet contracted light,
Wrapt in night’s mantle, stole into a manger;
Since my dark soul and brutish is Thy right,
To man of all beasts be not Thou a stranger:

Furnish and deck my soul, that Thou mayst have
A better lodging, than a rack, or grave.

*

George Herbert is probably my favourite poet. Even in this ‘simple’ sonnet, the Nativity story is told from an innovative angle, and realigns one of Herbert’s favourite tropes for denoting the relationship of God and the soul, that of a kindly host and needy guest.

Shoppers and partygoers, busy staff and busy-er families alike might sympathise with the exhausted rider (“quite astray”) evoked at the beginning of Christmas (I). The unexpected opening modifier, “After all pleasures,” contains an important ambiguity. The preposition “after” suggests both a following in time, and an actual pursuit. Herbert’s speaker, seemingly, is exhausted both by the pleasures experienced and by the process of chasing them, as if unsatisfied pursuit, unsatisfied consumption and busyness were as crazily embroiled in the 17th century as the 21st.

The older meaning of “affection” is “disposition”, and the plural, “affections”, in line three, suggests a throng of bodily and emotional needs, rushing about like hunting dogs that are “in full crie” and yet have lost the scent of their prey. There’s no lecture on the emptiness of pleasure-seeking – simply a vividly realised picture of heated chase and confused disappointment – “the grief/ Of pleasures …” What an amazing line and how theologically true echoing the Prodigal Son parable! How patiently is the Lord awaiting each one of us until “the grief of pleasures” brings us to Him and then He offers relief!

That the inn where the rider pauses is partly an ordinary country inn, a natural place of recovery for huntsman and horse, is suggested by the wonderfully casual demotic of “I took up in the next inne I could finde”. But this inn is also the one in Bethlehem, whose stables are Christ’s birthplace. Touching on his favourite, lovely “hospitality” metaphor, Herbert reveals that Christ is already there, awaiting the traveller “and all passengers” like the kindliest of welcoming hosts.

A little metaphysical punning follows. God has “contracted” his light to be born in human time; he has made his light very much smaller to suit his incarnation, and he has made mankind a binding promise. There’s an almost maternal tenderness in this image of God “wrapt in night’s mantle”.

The mood is picked up in the emotional repetition of the epithet, “My dear,/ My dearest Lord …” From then on, the sonnet turns from first-person narrative to direct apostrophe, from anecdote to prayer.

The symbolism of Christ’s rebirth in the human soul is hardly original. But Herbert’s metaphysics are always strongly rooted in the actual, and his speaker’s prayer is sharp and fresh when he pleads, “To Man of all beasts be not thou a stranger …” The supposed overlord of the animal kingdom, Man, is singled out but also “contracted” at a stroke, to become just another beast in the stable. An almost timid recognition of how distant such a being is from God underlines the plea, “Be not thou a stranger”.

And then Herbert lightens the mood with a new metaphor, one of immediate interest to any of his parishioners planning to “deck the hall” – or the hovel. But the reference is only briefly playful, and Herbert’s speaker is looking ahead to the crucifixion when he asks that his “dark soul and brutish” be furnished and decked so as to be a fit lodging for Christ, “better … than a rack or grave”. (Cf. Carol Rumens’ Poem of the Week, 2014, The Guardian).

The conclusion of this poem where the weary traveller after a day (a life?) of travel, finds solace in the presence of God comes in such start contrast to the closing lines of Robert Frost’s dark, winter poem, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”:

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.”

How blessed are we that in the darkness of our world, the light of His presence breaks through piercing our personal struggle with the company of angels. Christ is born. Glorify Him.

May we too return to our ‘country’, our ‘normal’ lives, by “another way” (cf. Matthew 2:12), like the Magi, radically changed in our hearts!

A Lonely Christmas

* “The Christmas of a Lonely Woman”, by St. Nikolai Velimirovich. Dedicated to all those struggling, especially during this holiday season, with sadness, loneliness, and depression. Truly wondering why such sorrow, suffering and depression, especially in these days, is so widespread. Is it because of our extreme self-centredness or is there truly such extreme sorrow and anguish in our world? Such a temptation! Such a ‘difficult’ feast for all those who are ‘alone’. “I alone am left, and they seek to take my life.” 3 Kingdoms 19:10 Μόνος, μονώτατος ειμι!

*

A blessed feast, dear brothers and sisters. “The sacrifices of God is a broken and contrite heart. 11 of the 12 Apostles were martyrs, each facing a commission and personal struggle. It is not a coincidence that we celebrate St. Stephen in two days’ time the protomartyr. Courage, not comfort, is the Christian calling. Yet in the darkness of our world, the light of His presence breaks through piercing our personal struggle with the company of angels. Christ is born. Glorify Him.” (Fr. J.H.)

*

‘You complain about loneliness in the middle of a big city. So many people around you seethe like an anthill, and you still feel like you are in the desert. On major holidays the situation is unbearable. Everywhere joy is overflowing, while you are being pushed towards sadness. The festive days of Christmas and Easter seem like empty containers that you fill with tears. When these holy feasts are far behind or ahead of you, you are calmer. But when they approach and come, grief and desolation conquer your soul.
What can I do for you? I will tell you the story of Joanna’s Christmas, because perhaps it will benefit you. I will leave it to her to narrate it, just as she told it to me.


“For forty-something years I have seen this world as a woman. Never any joy, except a little as a child in the home of my parents. But before the world I didn’t show I was sad. Before people I pretended to be joyful, and in my loneliness I wept. Everyone considered me a happy creature, since I showed as much. I would hear complaints all around me, from the married and the unmarried, the rich and the poor, everyone. And I thought: Why should I also complain to these miserable ones about my own misery, and just increase the sorrow around me? God, if I show myself happy I will be more useful in this unhappy world, but my secret I will hide within and I will cry in my loneliness. I prayed to God to show Himself to me somehow, at least one of His fingers so I can feel. I prayed thus, in order to not disappear in my hidden sadness. From any income I gave to charity anywhere I had an opportunity. I would visit the sick and the orphans, and brought them joy from my own apparent joy. ‘I believe in You, my good God,’ I would frequently say, ‘but I beg You, appear to me in some way, to believe in You more. I believe, Lord, help my unbelief’ (Mk. 9:24). I would repeat these words from the Gospel. And indeed, I experienced the Lord’s appearance to me.

Most difficult for me were the big holidays. After the Liturgy I would shut myself in my room and I cried the whole Christmas and Easter. But last Christmas God appeared to me. This happened as follows. The big day was approaching. I decided to prepare everything like my mother prepared for me: meat and pasta and deserts and everything else. ‘May the Holy Trinity be merciful to the four corners of the earth.’ While I did these things I prayed without ceasing: ‘Lord, send me visitors, but especially the totally hungry and poor! I beg You, appear to me in this way.’ Now and then I thought: ‘Crazy Joanna, what visitors are you waiting for on Christmas? On this holy day everyone is in their own home. How will someone come and visit you?’ And I cried and cried. But again I would repeat the prayer as I was preparing.
When I returned home from church on Christmas, I lit the candle and laid out the table. I put out all the food, and I began to walk back and forth in the room. ‘My God, do not abandon me!’ Again I prayed. Few passed by on the road. It was Christmas, and our road was deserted. But once the snow crackled under someone’s feet, I flew to the door! ‘Perhaps it is my visitor? It isn’t.’ This is how I passed my time. The afternoon came and went, and I was alone. I began to cry and scream: ‘Now I see, Lord, that You have forsaken me altogether.’ This is how I wept and I silently wept continuously!
Suddenly someone knocked on the door, and I heard voices: ‘Give brother, give sister.’ I quickly ran and opened the door. Before me stood a blind man with his guide, both hunched, ragged and frozen. ‘Christ is born, my sirs!’ I cried out merrily. ‘Truly He is born!’ they rattled with their teeth trembling. ‘Mercy, sister, have mercy on us! We are not asking for money. From this morning nobody has offered us bread, some money or a glass of raki. We are very hungry.” Because of my joy I was lifted up to the third heaven. I led them into my home and served them a full table. With tears of joy I served them. Intimidated they asked me: ‘Why are you crying, miss?’ ‘Out of joy, my sirs, out of sheer and bright joy! That for which I prayed to God was given to me by God. I prayed to Him for a few days, to send me exactly the visitors such as you are, and behold, such He sent me. You did not come here by chance, but my good Lord sent you. Today He appeared to me through you. This is the most joyful Christmas of my life. Now I know that our God is alive. Glory to Him and thanksgiving!’ They, my beloved visitors, responded, ‘Amen’. I kept them till the evening, filled their bags and said goodbye.”

Such was the previous Christmas of Joanna. Grant O God that this year it will be even more joyful. You also pray, daughter, that the heavenly Father will manifest Himself to you in some way – and God’s ways are many – so that you may experience a miracle. Do not prepare for sadness on this big day, but prepare for joy. And He Who is All-seeing and All-merciful, will make you joyful.’
Source: From Missionary Letters of Saint Nikolai Velimirovich; Orthodox Christianity Then and Now; By John Sanidopoulos

DUSK IN THE QUEEN OF CITIES

The sun is racing to hide behind the aged Theodosian walls and reign in full purple over the vast Thracian plain. The guided tour program has ended and pilgrims have scattered in groups at the market for shopping and dinner.

Our company – seven souls – is walking through old Constantinople, searching for some relics of the Byzantine Queen of Cities in the modern city of 15 millions. Tonight, the last night of the pilgrimage, we would try to discover some Byzantine churches, more than a thousand years old, that still stand forgotten by Time, but unfortunately, also by Greek visitors to the City.

We cross a main street and turn left onto a smaller one. In front of us stands a large mosque, which externally bears the characteristics of a monastery chapel except for the Cross, which has been absent from its dome for some centuries.

We proceed and ask the hodja for permission to enter. Eager and friendly, he welcomes us and allows us entry. At the same time, he explains to us that this is where the famous monastery of Akataliptos (1) was located in Byzantine times. However, the time of prayer is approaching for the faithful Muslims; the hodja leaves us and, dressed in his official uniform, enters the interior and begins namaz (2). About a dozen men gather around him, repeating some prayers and kneeling when he gives the order.

Barefoot and silent, we explore the interior of the mosque, persistently searching its walls and arches for some fragments of frescoes or mosaics. However, we cannot see anything, since the plaster has been scraped off along with the iconographies that were depicted on it (aniconic Islam strictly forbids the depiction of the physical form of God and His prophets). Only in the arch of the central entrance from the apse to the main temple do we see traces of fresco. The figures are unrecognisable.

We leave the mosque, without having satisfied our desire to discover something unique from the years of Byzantine glory. As we stand in the courtyard of the mosque, we observe symmetrically towards the central building, constructions that could be the chapels of the catholicon (3).

As it has already become dark for good, we move to the left and enter a garden with trees, where there are many ruins haphazardly thrown away, who knows since when. Carved marbles, capitals, broken columns, stones and a wall on the north side of the garden, elsewhere collapsed, elsewhere standing still. It was as if we had entered another era. A few steps behind us was the City of the 21st century, and yet in that space we felt that time had stopped counting.

With considerable hesitation and some fear lest someone might stop us, we enter the ruins and proceed to the depths where an iron door is visible. Could it be a chapel? After crossing the garden of ruins, we reach the locked door. Its window has no glass and in the dim light we can make out the interior. It does indeed appear to be one of the chapels of the catholicon. However, there are no murals or mosaics in it, as we had imagined, but only cleaning supplies, trash cans, brooms, dust pans, street cleaners’ uniforms…

We return somewhat disappointed, but something does not let us abandon that place yet. We search through the ruins. We stop at a large marble slab, leaning against a terrace. Is it perhaps the breastplate of the old iconostasis? Does it have relief crosses and other Christian symbols somewhere? In a little while we will grasp that this marble is a Holy Altar. The casket of the inauguration is clearly visible, from which the cap and of course its contents are missing. There we bow as we feel that we are in front of a plundered holy Altar, one of the many that were desecrated and destroyed after the Fall. In shock, we embrace its edge.

We leave the garden and return to the mosque. We want to beg the kind-hearted hodja to open the right chapel for us, the entrance to which we have already located among the grass and the bushes on the other side of the mosque. He takes the keys and we follow him with awe and hope. We cross another garden with fewer ruins and reach the iron door. At this point, the light of a spotlight falls on the outside, but the interior of the chapel remains dark. It has many small spaces, niches, arches; an ideal place for a vigil!

The guide shows us a tomb, but his limited English does not allow him to explain more to us. However, he allows us to take photographs, as he draws our attention to the places where there are fragments of a mural-fresco, as he calls it. In the flash of the camera we can indeed see a few icons preserved in much better condition than those of the Catholicon. In a niche is the representation of the Theotokos – in the type of Platytera, (ie. More Spacious than the Heavens) – and on either side of it is the inscription Panagia the Kyriotissa (4).

We worship the mural of the Theotokos, humming Axion estí (ie. It is Meet and Right). In a moment we leave the solemn chapel and the priest locks the rusty lock again. He tells us that tomorrow all of us pilgrims could come to see this monument. We thank him and leave but we still do not feel like returning to the hotel. Today is our last night in the City and we would like to experience more of its secrets.

We now head north, continuing our journey through the old neighbourhoods. Somewhere we pass under an arch from the Byzantine period, a ruin that still stands. Next to it is a huge plane tree. Now the lights are fading and the area looks like a remote neighbourhood. In an opening in the semi-darkness, some children are playing ball. At the end of the small road that we cross, we turn into an alley and find ourselves in front of a small but beautiful and perfectly preserved, at least externally, Byzantine church. An elegant work of art with its central dome, three smaller domes in the narthex and two chapels integrated into the entire building. However, inside this little church is a Muslim mosque.To our surprise, we see Christian symbols welcoming us, carved into the marble slabs on either side of the central entrance.

The hour is past and the door is closed. However, someone seems to be inside and we gather the courage and knock to let us in. It is the hodja of the mosque, not as cheerful as the previous one, and he hurries to show us the fresco in the right dome of the narthex. In the dim light we see Christ Pantocrator at the centre of the dome and around Him a choir of Saints. The middle dome and the left are plastered on the inside. In the main church there is nothing to remind of the Byzantine past of this building, except for a few Corinthian capitals. The chapel on the right serves as a storeroom; it is closed. On the left, the other chapel is open and illuminated. It has been converted into… a restroom, three toilets in a row, in the space that once was the Sanctuary… Somewhere there is a small door, and a narrow, almost hidden staircase, leading up to a small room.

“The priest used to live there”, the hodja explains to us and adds in his broken English: “Byzantine holy water”, showing us a stone jar in the narthex filled with water. What could this be? A bottle of holy water from the Byzantine years, which has changed its use and is now used for washing Allah’s faithful before their prayer?

We thank the hodja, apologise for the evening disturbance and make our way to leave. At the exit of the mosque, a basket has been placed and we are asked to put whatever tip we want into the basket…We leave and take the road back. It is already late but we are in no hurry to return. In our inner world, emotions are mixed, especially of those who were coming to old Constantinople for the first time. Everyone reflects on what they saw tonight…

More than five hundred years have passed since the Queen of Cities fell, but some thousand-year-and more-old buildings remain standing, provoking with their presence Time, the Catalyst. They remain standing and wait. What are they waiting for? Are they waiting for sensitive international organisations to protect them and stop the work of desecration? Are they waiting for tourists to photograph them? Are they waiting for the Greek visitors, who have completely forgotten about them? Are they waiting for incense to be fragrant, for candles and multi-branched chandeliers to light their kube5 (Turk. ie dome)? Are they waiting for the sound of ‘Christ is Risen’ to be heard under their thousand-year-old arches?

And yet, they are waiting…

Hieromonk Synesios, Monastery of St.A, V, Ch.

Notes

  1. The Monastery of Christ Akataleptos (the Incomprehensible Christ) is first mentioned in a document from the year 1094 and existed until the end of the Byzantine empire. For a long time, it was believed that the Kalenderhane mosque was the church of this monastery. However, this church is now securely identified as that of the monastery of the Mother of God Kyriotissa. The former Byzantine church known as Eski Imaret Camii, which was usually taken for that of Christ Pantepoptes (the All-Overlooking Christ), has only recently been identified with the church of the monastery of Christ Akataleptos. Cf. https://www.byzantium1200.com/akataleptos.html
  2. Namaz: Turkish word for prayer with genuflection.
  3. Catholicon: In the Orthodox Church, a catholicon is the main church of a monastery, often located at the center of a monastic complex and serves as the primary location for main liturgical services.
  4. The Church of Theotokos Kyriotissa (probably now Kalenderhane Mosque) is located near the east end of the Aqueduct of Valens in Constantinople. While it is a large Middle Byzantine church with a cross-in-square plan covered by a dome, it has a complex structural history, with several stages of building on the site, including a bath complex. Cf.https://www.thebyzantinelegacy.com/kyriotissa