On the occasion of the three-day celebrations in honour of our beloved Saint Paisios, we undertook a pilgrimage to Konitsa and the surrounding region, combining prayer and worship with the beauty of the mountains, rivers and historic villages of Epirus and Western Macedonia.
Day One
Samarina and Konitsa
Our pilgrimage began with a visit to Samarina in the region of Grevena, one of the most beautiful mountain villages of the Pindus and one of the best-known historic Vlach villages.
There, we visited the Church of the Nativity of the Theotokos, commonly known as the “Great Panagia,” and venerated the grace-filled presence of the Mother of God.
Reconstructed in 1819, the imposing church stands at the heart of the village. It is renowned for its magnificent carved wooden iconostasis, its remarkable frescoes painted by local iconographers, and the centuries-old pine tree that rises through the roof of the sanctuary.
The church celebrates its feast on 15 August, when Samarina welcomes the great annual gathering of the Vlachs in a vibrant atmosphere of faith, tradition and communal joy.
Interior of the Church of the Great Panagia in Samarina
Samarina
The family home of Saint Paisios and a Supplicatory Service in his honour
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In the afternoon, we travelled to Konitsa and visited the family home of Saint Paisios. There, a Supplicatory Service was celebrated in his honour, in the very place associated with his childhood and early years.
Later that afternoon, we made our way to the Chapel of Saint Barbara, where Saint Paisios experienced a divine manifestation. In the quiet and prayerful atmosphere of the chapel, we celebrated Compline.
Chapel of Saint Barbara in Konitsa
Compline at the Chapel of Saint Barbara
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Day Two
The Pilgrimage to the Monastery of Stomio
The walk to the Monastery of Stomio
The scenery is dramatic! The Monastery of Stomio is dwarfed by the vast Aoos Gorge. The Aoos River winds between the mountains. Look at the narrow, steep-sided gorge with its turquoise waters, and in another season, the gorge in autumn, with dramatic light, cliffs, and layered mountain peaks.
Before dawn, we departed from the historic arched bridge of Konitsa and began the five-kilometre walk to the Holy Monastery of the Nativity of the Theotokos at Stomio.
The path followed the course of the Aoos River through a landscape of exceptional natural beauty. The stillness of the early morning, the sound of the river and the surrounding mountains gave the journey the character of a true pilgrimage.
At the end of the path, we reached the monastery where Saint Paisios lived in asceticism for four years. During his time there, he laboured tirelessly to restore the monastery, which had been extensively damaged after being burned by German forces during the war.
At Stomio, we celebrated the Divine Liturgy and venerated the Saint’s humble cell, the newly built church dedicated to him, and the grave of the former abbot, Fr Kosmas.
After the traditional monastic hospitality, the new abbot of the monastery, Fr Maximos, spoke to us about Saint Paisios, his life at Stomio and the spiritual legacy he left behind.
In the afternoon, we visited the Holy Monastery of Saint Kosmas of Aetolia, where we venerated the holy relics preserved there, including the relics of Saint John of Konitsa.
That evening, we attended the presentation of the documentary Light of Cappadocia at Konitsa Town Hall. The event took place in the presence of His Eminence Metropolitan Alexios of Dryinoupolis, Pogoniani and Konitsa.
Holy Monastery of the Nativity of the Theotokos at Stomio
The Cell of Saint Paisios and the Church of Saint Paisios
The Holy Monastery of Saint Kosmas of Aetolia and the presentation of the documentary Light of Cappadocia at Konitsa Town Hall
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Day Three
Molyvdoskepastos and Metsovo
The Holy Byzantine Monastery of Molyvdoskepastos
Veneration of the Miraculous Icon of Panagia Pogonianitissa
On Saturday morning, we attended the Divine Liturgy at the historic Byzantine Monastery of Molyvdoskepastos.
Dedicated to the Dormition of the Theotokos, the monastery stands in a place of striking beauty, only four hundred metres from the Greek–Albanian border, near the confluence of the Aoos and Sarantaporos rivers.
There, we venerated the miraculous icon of Panagia Pogonianitissa and prayed before the sacred treasures of this ancient monastery.
In the courtyard, behind the sanctuary, lies the tomb of Metropolitan Sevastianos, the renowned hierarch and tireless defender of Orthodoxy and Hellenism. Nearby is the tomb of the former abbot, Fr Theodoros, where we offered a Trisagion memorial service for the repose of his soul.
After receiving the traditional monastic hospitality, we departed for Metsovo, the beautiful fir-covered Vlach town of the Pindus.
There, surrounded by the beauty of the mountains and the distinctive character of the town, we shared a final meal before beginning our return journey.
The Holy Byzantine Monastery of Molyvdoskepastos, where we venerated the miraculous icon of Panagia Pogonianitissa.
Thus concluded three days filled with prayer, spiritual blessing, fellowship and the beauty of God’s creation.
May Saint Paisios intercede for us and help us all!
Friday the 12th, part 2. Panorama monastery is very beautiful. Set up in the hills above Thessaloniki, one can see the bay. Indeed, we can see over to the place (1) where St. Paisios rests. We venerated Elder Symeon’s tomb (2).
We had two hours of great wisdom. Followed by the blessing from the Hegumenos I. Our discussions were focused on the teachings of St. Simeon the New Theologian, sharing mystical experiences centred on humility.
The teachings of St. Simeon the New Theologian draw heavily from the Desert Fathers. Direct experience of God is something to which all Christians should aim and indeed aspire. The teachings which I read many years ago from St. Symeon the Theologian came flooding back, and the discussion made me want to revisit the books which were formative in my embrace of Orthodoxy. Indeed, the power of the Holy Spirit to change lives is real, and to change individuals, to transform them, and to transform situations in which we find ourselves sometimes feeling rather hopeless.
A theme which, at this time, post-Pentecost days, has been realised in many churches where young people are beginning to return to the church. There is a revival of hope.
The conversation echoed a previous thought about the need for solitude of one‘s self within that space where God exists. If one wants to become a channel of divine grace to others, but this is God’s grace. It is nothing to do with ourselves. It is not ours.
We are nothing, but God makes us something. It’s simply a yes to God in all circumstances. St. Simeon the Theologian emphasises the need to listen to the advice of your spiritual father.
The priest Lev Gillet, in his book, called Encounter at the Well, discusses the situation that our Lord found himself in with a Samaritan woman. Christ, wearied by his journey, asks for some water at Jacob’s well. The martyr St. Philoumenos, who was a priest at the well, was with us in the evening in the form of little prayer cards, those magnetic ones which you attach to your fridges, which we had received earlier in the week from a priest.
We were able to give these to the children. The T family came to greet us, to share their love amongst us, to take a blessing and to sing for us. It was like refreshing water on a hot day.
We Christians thirst for God, and we receive him in fellowship, amongst others who are like-minded. He gives abundantly of His life and of His life-giving spring. The evening concluded with a late meal with M, E, G or J, depending on what you wanted to call him, and A. It was a joyous conclusion to a day of deep discussion, shared experiences, and surprising connections that we made.
Although we should not be surprised by those connections, since we have the same Lord, we have the same Christ, and because in His great love and humility for us, He calls us His friends. Amen.
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(1) Souroti, the Monastery of St. John the Theologian.
Thursday the 11th, Part 2. In the evening, we met with M at the restaurant. It was a joyful meal together with discussions about the Church and about Christ and His love. This brought us together in fellowship.
And, of course, we must all do the work of Christ whilst it is still day. Or, as Father Seraphim Rose said: “Hasten to do the will of God, it is later than you think.”
The little monastery that we visited in the morning still conjured dreams in our souls.Of Paradise.
As Abba Isaiah of Sketis says to his monks, those who are beginning their journey must cultivate the soil. And indeed we are to labour in the vineyard.
Saint Ephraim the Syrian writes in Hymns of Paradise, number 5, verse 15:
Thursday the 11th of June, the Feast of St. Luke Symferoupol and the revelation of Axion Estin by the angel Gabriel.
The journey to St. Kyriaki monastery was quite eventful. St. Kyriaki monastery is where a number of our Antiochian nuns found themselves.
At one point in the journey, engrossed as we were, in deep conversation and with the Paraklesis of St. Luke Symferoupol providing the background ison to our talk, we took a wrong road. My fault, I’m afraid, as I was the co-pilot, supposed to be directing the way.
The sign Local Road did not really do justice to the rather barely marked track that we found ourselves on in this huge field. However, Sat Nav came to the rescue and revealed to us the way that we should go. We needed a U-turn.
U-turns can be life-saving in a religious and a spiritual point of view, from sin and death and the roads which lead to destruction, to the way that leads to Paradise.
A reliable source told me how beautiful this place was, and indeed there was no hyperbole from that source.
This beautiful monastery, which is really a hidden gem amidst the beautiful countryside, reminded me of the Hymns of Resurrection from St. Ephraim, also a Syrian.
In his Hymn to the Resurrection, chapter 15, verse 10, he writes this:
“Let us summon and invite the saints,
the martyrs, apostles and prophets,
whose own blossoms and flowers
shine out like themselves –
such a wealth of roses they have,
so fragrant are their lilies:
from the Garden of Delights do they pluck them,
and they bring back fair bunches
to crown our beautiful feast.
O praise to You from the saints who are blessed.”
Sister T told us how the nuns came to be there, and it reminded me of another verse from St. Ephraim the Syrian, verse 12, in the same poem:
“Receive our offering, O our King,
and in return grant us salvation;
give peace to the land that has been devastated,
rebuild the churches that were burned,
so that when deep peace has returned,
we may plait you a great wreath,
with flowers and people to plait it,
coming in from all sides
so that the Lord of Peace may be crowned.
Blessed is He who has acted and is able to act.”
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For those of you who missed it, the story of the Sisters of War and St. Kyriaki monastery in Veria can be read here
Friday the 12th of June, a morning of quiet and hesychia, praying for people and reflecting on the grace of God in St. Porphyrius’ flat. Prayer and quiet provide the nourishment for our souls. We need courage to do the will of God, not just to say “Thy will be done” and leave it there.
The dynamic of the Holy Spirit is real, and if there is no movement, then there must be a threshold of tolerance, of patience, if you like, within that stagnant state. Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point, the point of the highest reality. Pilate was merciful until it became risky, as C.S. Lewis points out in the Screwtape Letters.
Quiet, hesychia, is the groundwork which prepares us for the spiritual battle in the day, each day, every day. We live in a world of computers, artificial intelligence, and not real wisdom. We live in a world of war and conflict, of ideological differences, of confusion, even about identity and gender.
We, Christians need to step aside, because the word holy in Hebrew means to be separated, “kadosh”, to be set apart. We are set apart not because we are holy, but because we are called to be holy, called to steep ourselves in that atmosphere of peace, of serenity, of confidence in Christ, the one who calls us to follow Him, who is indeed the Prince of Peace, and He calls us in order for us to become, in turn, fishers of men.
Hieromonk Seraphim Rose writes, modern men have faith in machines, in material well-being, in the substantiality of all that seems obvious to common sense. This is a petty faith, the faith of petty men. The Christian has faith in God and in the world to come. Indeed, in the insubstantiality of all that is obvious, in the passing of this world and the coming of the new transfigured world, if there is a faith worthy of men, it is surely this.
I would not wish to add to the words of Hieromonk Seraphim Rose, but just to reflect that even common sense seems to be missing in this present age. May the Lord grant us quiet, may He grant us His peace, in order to do His will. Amen.
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Hesychia: The Sacred Stillness. In sacred silence, the faithful becomes flame, still yet alive, consumed by divine presence.
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Abba Lot went to see Abba Joseph and laid out his daily spiritual routine. He asked, “Abba, as far as I can, I say my little office, I fast a little, I pray and meditate, I live in peace, and as far as I can, I purify my thoughts. What else can I do?”
In response, Abba Joseph stood up and stretched his hands toward heaven. His fingers became like ten lamps of fire, and he replied, “If you will, you can become all flame” (The sayings of the Desert Fathers)
“Dedication to Christ is the joy of life,” Mother Maria will answer me, instantly solving the questions about the smiling faces of the women in their cassocks. The thriving convent she now runs once languished with only two very old nuns.
The Sisters found refuge from the war in Syria. An old bond brought them here
I had heard a lot, but I couldn’t separate the legend from the truth. I had to wander the plain of Veria. To forget myself for a while in the blooming peach trees – the ones that filled Instagram at the end of March – to pass, full of curiosity, the heavy iron door of the Monastery of Agia Kyriaki. And to face the truth in the bright faces of women of all ages.
In the monastery’s mansion, Arabic coffee awaited me with treats from Aleppo. Yes, from Syria. The nuns pronounce Greek with small – I would say charming – grammatical errors that testify that their mother tongue is different.
Gerasimi is a graduate of Fine Arts. She elaborately decorates the candles for the Resurrection – their sale is a significant source of income for the small monastery.
“God’s Will”
The war in Syria brought here, to Loutro Imathias, an entire sisterhood of nuns from Aleppo. Aleppo, which was also called Veria during the Byzantine Empire. Luck, fate or divine providence?
For my interlocutors, everything is “God’s will”. And one name is constantly on their lips: Paul! The missing Metropolitan of Aleppo.
On Holy Monday 2013, Paul of Aleppo, returning to Syria from Alexandretta in Turkey, decided to go to a village to try to free locals for whom the rebels were demanding ransom. He was accompanied by the Jacobite bishop Yuhanna.
On the way, the two hierarchs were ambushed. Their driver was murdered and they were kidnapped. Everyone then thought that the kidnapping was the work of ISIS jihadists. The State Department rewarded the kidnappers with 5 million dollars. After all, Paul was the fleshly brother of the Patriarch of Antioch and All the East John.Thirteen years since then, the fate of the two archpriests continues to be unknown. But back to the Monastery of Agia Kyriaki, Pavlos is so “present” in all the stories!
“Missing Father” – “He encouraged me to go to the School of Fine Arts.” “He wanted us to study first and then become a nun.” “He showed me the way to iconography.” “He insisted that we learn Greek, the language of the Fathers.” This is what the sisters say of Metropolitan Pavlos of Aleppo, whose fate has been unknown since 2013, when he was kidnapped.
Emiliani and Iliani were taught the art of needlework in Ormylia, the women’s monastery of Simonopetra. Monks from Simonopetra on Mount Athos are still their spiritual leaders today.
Ten were the first nuns – from the Monastery of the Annunciation of the Theotokos in Aleppo – who found refuge here. “Like Noah who landed his sea-swept ark on Ararat,” I will hear one evening.
All from families of old Romans, that is, citizens of the Byzantine Empire who gradually became Arabic-speaking.
Most from the Valley of the Christians, a natural valley, as large as Kos, near the border with Lebanon.
Philothei rings the monastery bells. For centuries, events in monasteries have been announced by rhythmic metal or wooden sounds that lead the brotherhoods to the Katholicon, a chapel, or the refectory.
Every time they went to distribute medicine and food, the locals would exclaim: “For the sake of Deir el Bisara” – “the nuns of the Annunciation are coming!”
A liturgy in two languages – The Arabic psalms, in the monastery church, are “married” with invocations in Greek: “Lord of Hosts, have mercy on us”. With pilgrims from Alexandria and Veria recognising the same prayer in different words and rejoicing.
But how did the nuns of war find their way to the humble and then unknown Agia Kyriaki?
The current Metropolitan of Veria Panteleimon, in the early 1990s, served as a hieromonk in Thessaloniki. And he had the Syrian Pavlos as his deacon. A graduate of the famous Theological Seminary of Balamand and the Polytechnic University of Latakia – who was then completing his doctorate in theology, while also studying Byzantine music. Paul then became a monk on Mount Athos, where he studied iconography under the most famous iconographers of Athos.
Sister Nikodimi studied Dentistry in Syria. In Greece, she obtained a master’s degree in psychological support for children with cancer and chronic diseases.
Over the years, the hieromonk became the metropolitan of Veria and the deacon the metropolitan of Aleppo. And during the war, he asked his counterpart in Veria for shelter for his spiritual daughters.
One of the photographs of the Metropolitan of Aleppo before his kidnapping in Syria
The Sisterhood
Thirteen years since then, the sisterhood has thrived and now numbers twenty nuns and four novices.
Hieronymi shows the fruits from the sisterhood orchard to Stavros Theodorakis. The monastery’s “development” plan is to create new cells for the nuns and an orchard with fruit trees and gardens with medicinal herbs. Apple, apricot, and cherry trees have already been planted, and once the cold weather passes, sage, verbena, rosemary, and oregano will follow, on terraces.
And at my Lenten table they serve makhlouta* with red lentils, cumin, and vegetables from the sisterhood’s vegetable garden.
Next to me, the reader, standing, commemorates Pavlos in the present tense.
As if he is absent for a while and they are waiting for him to return.
* Makhlouta means “mix” in Arabic, and that’s exactly what this soup is: a mix of beans and grains, simmered slowly.
Even though it is is 31C, it is raining. One of our friends said, “you have brought the rain with you from Manchester.” Indeed, but I drank from the fountain of Christ’s Mercy.
St Efraim the Syrian writes:
“Thanksgiving be to Him who caused a stream to flow forth
in the mouths that had been closed,
so that they might give praise without end, through the Son,
to the worshipful Father.”
Nisiben hymns 69
The evening was spent in conversation with Sister A and S at C’s house. The conversation was pastoral in nature, and the conversation revolved around the vicissitudes of life that we all suffer. Set within that larger framework of God’s divine plan.
It is a blessing to share one another’s burdens and to focus on our faith, our common heritage, within a world which often has taken the wrong direction and that is searching for answers. St Paul, in his letter to the Galatians in chapter 6 v. 2, writes, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.” So, in acceptance of these words, we were indeed bearing one another’s burdens, and in so doing, fulfilling that law of Christ, to love God and to love one’s neighbour.
St Porphyrios says, “Christ is everything.” So, we should not add or subtract anything to our Christian faith, since, by adding, we compromise, and by subtracting, we fall short of that perfection which God calls us to. C.S. Lewis calls this “Mere Christianity.”To Wormwood, his nephew, in the Screwtape Letters, he says, what we must do is to keep them in the state of mind I call ‘Christianity and …’, you know, ‘Christianity and Crisis’, ‘Christianity and the New Psychology’, ‘Christianity and the New Order.’” To add to that, perhaps ‘Christianity and Politics.’
The horror of the same old thing is one of the most valuable passions we have produced in the human heart. It creates an endless source of heresies. Pure Christianity, with nothing added and nothing taken away, we find in the monasteries.
C.S. Lewis writes again: “just as we pick out and exaggerate the pleasure of eating to produce gluttony, so we pick out the natural pleasantness of change and twist it into a demand for absolute novelty.”
Original, authentic and unadulterated Christianity does not need nor seek approval of the world, or indeed embrace its passing fads and fashions and fantasies. It remains steadfast to apostolic order, to true doctrine and to the living tradition.
Any movement that is required is impelled by the action of the All-Holy Spirit. Amen.
Dear brothers and sisters, I am sure all/ most of you are familiar with Andrei Rublev’s Troitsa (Russian for Triune or Trinity). I have studied this icon in the past, this Trinitarian interpretation of Gen. 18:1-16, the episode in which “three men” visit Abraham and Sarah and promise them a son. Last week, however, I listened to a homily on Pentecost and the Holy Trinity in connection with this icon, and I discovered new insights which I was not familiar with.
This icon hails from the summit of a more-than-thousand-year-old iconographic tradition, yet what I found most moving and inspiring is its message, specifically the impact of the importance of the Holy Trinity on our daily lives, not as an object of abstract theological debate, but rather a referral to our living relationship with God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit.
Let me explain, and let us open ourselves up and experience the reality that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are indeed real and insistently call us to participate in their loving communion.
1. The Trinity Is One
The Catechism 253 is clear in saying: The Trinity is One. We do not confess three Gods, but one God in three persons, the “consubstantial Trinity”. The divine persons do not share the one divinity among themselves but each of them is God whole and entire. In the words of the Fourth Lateran Council (1215), “Each of the persons is that supreme reality, viz., the divine substance, essence or nature.
Symbolizing the fact that the three divine persons are of equal essence, we see:
– All three angels are the same in form and size
– All three carry the same staves in their hands
– All three sit on the same type of throne
– Each figure is clothed in the same types of garments – chiton and himation – which are individually distinct.
– The characteristic tone of the garments works with a limited palette of colours: purple, pale green, and the one colour that is common to all three – an intense blue.
2. The divine persons are really distinct from one another
The Catechism continues in number 254 to explain: “The divine persons are really distinct from one another. God is one but not solitary.” “Father”, “Son”, “Holy Spirit” are not simply names designating modalities of the divine being, for they are really distinct from one another. They are distinct from one another in their relations of origin: “It is the Father who generates, the Son who is begotten, and the Holy Spirit who proceeds.” The divine Unity is Triune.
3. The Monarchy of the Father
While the traditional icons of this episode usually accentuated the central angel (the Son) through its frontal attitude and often its size, here Rublev does something different:
The central angel and the one on the right incline towards the one on the left and look towards it, while the one on the left looks towards the one on the right, giving the indication of the relationship between the three persons.
As such, it is the angel on the left that becomes the centre of the relationships. This follows the Oriental tradition, which considered the source of the unity and of the Godhead to be, not an essence lying behind the persons, but the person of the Father.
4. The Angel on the Left – The Father
When speaking of icons, in reality, one doesn’t say that he or she has “painted” an icon. They are “written” and “read”, going from left to right. Let’s now take a look at each individual angel, beginning on the left, and try to recognise the particular aspects. We can distinguish the angel on the left from the others, seeing that:
– He alone sits upright while the other two incline towards him.
– Seeing that the Father is still invisible for us, His form is almost completely veiled, allowing us to catch only a glimpse of the radiant blue (symbol of divinity) of His chiton. We can only hope to see him from “behind” through the beauty and wisdom of His creation, which is here represented by the mantle. The mantle bears royal colours: gold and red with a greenish reflection, symbol of life.
– Both hands bear a firm grip on his stave, which is pointed towards the earth. All authority of the heavens and the earth belongs to Him.
– The house, rising immediately behind him, points to the Father, for “in my Father’s house are many rooms” (Jn 14:2). It is also a symbol of hospitality, seeing that Abraham and Sarah were recompensed for the hospitality that they offered.
5. The Angel in the Middle – The Son
In the Icon, we can discover the following distinguishing characteristics of the son:
– He wears a dark purple chiton decorated with two stripes, one of which is visible – stripes worked with gold. The costly purple and gold represent his being the “anointed of God,” king and prophet in one. The reddish brown colour represents the earth and therefore his humanity and his martyrdom for all mankind. Christ is fully God and fully man.
– While the azure blue chiton of the Father is scarcely visible, that of the angel representing the Son is the prevailing colour. This is because it is Jesus the Son who has revealed his “glory” which he has as the “only-begotten of the Father”. The disciples have seen and touched this (Jn 1.14), and the mission of every disciple is to bear testimony of this fact.
– The tree that rises behind the Son is a symbol of both the Tree of Life (from Genesis) and the Wood of the Cross. On the Cross the Son transforms this tree of death into a tree of life whose fruits are passed on to us through our baptism in the Holy Spirit.
Let us always remember that we, too, are called to follow Christ along the paradoxical path of the cross that carries the sufferings of this world and allows this, through the Holy Spirit, to be transformed into new life.
6. The Angel on the Right – The Holy Spirit
The Holy Spirit’s personal being has been revealed; his countenance has not. The only thing we know about him is through his relationship to the Father and the Son.
– Like the Son, the Holy Spirit is inclined towards the Father, from whom he proceeds according to the teaching of the Bible (Jn 15:26).
– Like the Son, the chlamys is worn in such a way that leaves an arm free. Here, instead of the right arm, it is the left. Those follow the line of thinking proposed by St. Irenaeus who said that the Son and the Spirit are equally the two “hands” of the Father, through which he works everything.
– Like the Son, the heavenly azure blue is clearly seen.
– We also discover in his chlamys a pale green which, in Russia at least, is the liturgical colour of Pentecost. Here, the idea is that green represents new life in the Spirit, who is the “Giver of Life” and who transmits and transforms our lives through our baptism. We see this same pale green on the ground on which all three figures find themselves.
– Finally, behind the angel, we see a rock protruding. Like the Son and the Holy Spirit, the rock seems to be bowing down towards the authority and glory of the Father. We are invited to do the same.
– The rock can be understood as a symbol of earth, whose “face is renewed by the Spirit”. Earlier copies of the icon show that the rock was originally cracked, which would lead us to recall the rock that was split by Moses’ staff, causing living water to flow out (Ex 17.6).
– The rock/mountain is also a privileged place to encounter God. There, heaven and earth embrace one another as they did when Moses encountered God on the mountain. It is a place that is often difficult to reach, requiring a certain silence, asceticism, and renunciation of the daily comforts the world and its routines offer us. We all need to keep an eye out for these “mountains” in our lives.
7. Postures and Gestures
8. The Original Painting
Copyists and retouchers have made significant changes over the years. Originally, the Son’s hand was pointing towards the Holy Spirit, instead of the blessing gesture that we now see. …The Son’s right hand seemed to point at the chalice; yet, at the same time, it points beyond towards the Spirit.
The artist’s attention was thus more directed at the Spirit. This is confirmed by the Father’s posture and gesture as he is looking at the Spirit, to whom his right hand, raised in blessing, is directed. The Spirit also seems to corroborate this in the fact that he humbly bows his head before the Father. His right hand also seems to want to underline this movement.
Please note that the Holy Spirit also touches the table because he also comes to the world.
9. The Decisive Moment for our Salvation
This scene has often been interpreted to be the moment when the Father decided to send the Son, through the Holy Spirit, to save humanity (us).
As we seein the image below, it is the Father, who is at the origin of it all, who calls the Son and indicates the cup of sacrifice in the centre of the table. The Son comprehends the Father’s will (to become man’s bread of life) and accepts, bowing his head and blessing the cup.
The Holy Spirit, also known as the Comforter, the Paraklete, also accepts the will of the Father. He rests his hand on the table as he looks towards the Father, indicating his obedience to the Son (no one can call upon “Jesus Christ” without the Holy Spirit) and His trustful abandonment to the Father.
10. The Symbol of Sacrifice
With careful observation, one can note how the middle angel seems to be contained within the shape of a cup whose contours are formed by the other two angels. Similar to the reflection just mentioned, here we see how the act of salvation is one of the Holy Trinity. As the Filarete, metropolitan of Moscow, once commented in 1816:
“The cup, a point of convergence between the three, contains the mystery of love of the Father who crucifies, the love of the Son who is crucified, and the love of the Holy Spirit who triumphs with the force of the cross.”
While the three figures form a circle, it is not closed in on itself. It is a circle of communion which opens and offers space for another. While their gaze is aimed towards one another, the reversed perspective means the faces are, in a sense, facing the observer as well. As such, the spectator (that’s you and me) is invited and welcomed to participate as the fourth link in this mystical chain.
11. The Altar and the Eucharist
As we have just seen, in this Trinitarian circle of love, there is always space for another, and open space in which we are invited not only to observe but to participate.
At the centre of the encounter, there is a table/altar where we also see a small box/window. This space is where relics of the martyrs are deposited.
When asking ourselves how we are called to participate, here and now, the icon invites us to participate in the celebration of the Eucharist (the altar) and to live our lives as martyrs, as witnesses of the resurrection who, following the school of Jesus, are willing to give our lives for others and for the faith.
It is probably this last “detail” of the small box/ window where the martyrs’ relics are deposited that I find so amazing! What an invitation our Lord extends to each one of us! We are all invited to live our lives as martyrs! Glory to God for all things!
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Cf. Gabriel Bunge, The Rublev Trinity; Garrett Johnson, St. Thomas Aquinas Parish, Manchester, for the imagesand the insights
Holy Monastery of the Dormition of the Theotokos, Mikrokastro: a beacon of faith and tradition, offering spiritual guidance, hospitality, and hope to the faithful from all over the world. It remains a living centre of Orthodox Christianity, linking past and present through devotion and heritage.
In the past, I have written several blog posts about this monastery and its blessed synodeia. This time I would like to focus on the miraculous icon of the Theotokos Panagia Eleousa, the Merciful Virgin, which possibly dates back to as early as 1200 (!), and is located in the iconostasis of the Katholikon. I would like to share with you three recent miracles of the Theotokos, shared with me during my recent monastery pilgrimage.
During a very serious operation, a man died and began to watch outside his body, the agonising efforts of the doctors in the operating room, but also the ascent of his soul, accompanied by angels. He climbed the stairs with difficulty, but the angels always helped him on each step, until he reached the last one, and there, no matter how hard he tried, he could not climb it. He saw a brightly lit space in front of him, but he could not climb it. He begged the angels, but they told him that even they could not help him and that he should ask for the intercession of his patron saint. Indeed, he prayed to Saint Nektarios, who, however, also told him that he could not help him and that he had to implore the Virgin Mary. She then appeared and told him that he could not actually climb this last step, because he lacked the virtue of charity. However, through her intercession, she would give him a second chance to prepare himself properly. And the Virgin Mary performed her miracle, and he returned to life in front of the astonished eyes of his doctors. His wife had made a vow to the Virgin Mary with many tears to give her husband a second chance, so that he would not leave unprepared for the terrible test.
Τhe miracle that follows is very similar to the previous one. It was again a case of a patient’s death during a very serious operation, and it was again a wife praying on her knees to the Virgin Mary, who heard her tama, her spiritual vow. However, it also has some differences. This husband arrived in front of a brightly lit plain, but he could not enter; a “wall” separated him. Also, he was not alone, but “outside” this plain, there were a multitude of people who were moaning, lamenting … This torment lasted for this particular man “many hours” and in the end he too was exhausted from waiting, fatigue, thirst! And he, too, began to cry. No matter how many prayers he said, they were not heard. At some point, the Virgin Mary appeared before him. He begged her to help him enter the bright plain, to give him a glass of water. And the Virgin Mary replied that he is not worthy not to enter this place of rest, but he is not worthy even for a glass of water! But because your wife begs me, I will give you a second chance to correct your life so that you can escape this place of torment. And indeed, the husband came back to life, shocked! The sister who told me about this miracle described to me that he himself came to the monastery with his wife to fulfil the vow to the Virgin Mary, and he still seemed shocked. The sister added to me that perhaps the most terrible thing in this story, but also in the previous one, was that these two men had spiritual fathers; they lived with the mysteries of the Church, yet they were not yet ready! Lord, have mercy!
The third miracle is a little different. Here we have a husband praying, making a tama, and his wife being saved from death. She had been hospitalised for months without any hope, and while the doctors had given up, her husband begged the Virgin Mary to perform a miracle. One evening, exhausted from the hospital, he drove late at night all the way from Thessaloniki to Mikrokastro, over two hours, and found the door of the monastery open, because a vigil was being held. He entered the church and began to pray with tears to the miraculous icon of the Virgin Mary, and at some point, from exhaustion, he fell asleep inside the church. Then he saw what a dream he had. In the centre of the church, he saw the Virgin Mary sitting on a radiant throne with Her Son enthroned in Her arms and standing reverently on one side was the Archangel Gabriel and the Archangel Michael on the other side. The Virgin Mary then spoke to him, addressing him by his baptismal name, and told him not to worry about his wife; she would be fine. But the Theotokos asked him to fulfil his spiritual vow in the following way: to offer an icon of her to the monastery exactly as she had appeared to him. Then he woke up, and after thanking the Virgin Mary, he hurried back to the hospital to share the wonderful news with his wife. He found her indeed healed, healthy, and the morning medical tests also clinically proved to the astonished doctors that her health was now excellent! A miracle had occurred, and she had been healed! Then, they rushed to the monastery to tell the story of the miracle and to describe to a sister who paints icons the specific representation of the Virgin Mary. Since then, this icon has adorned the narthex of the Katholicon. The miracle and the Theotokos’ request are signed at the bottom of the icon, together with the names and the date of the miracle, October 28, 2017.
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.
ORTHODOX CHRISTIAN FAITH AND LIFE 