Written at my refuge, the Mikrokastro monastery, under Our Lady’s Protective Veil . Watching my father die the last two weeks has been very painful and filled my mind with images of old age and decay.
Three Old Age Vignettes
Terminal, Temporary, Transcending
1 Corinthians 2
14 But the natural man does not receive the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; nor can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned. 15 But he who is spiritual judges all things, yet he himself is rightly judged by no one.
1 Corinthians 3
- And I, brethren, could not speak unto you as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal, …
3. For ye are yet carnal: for whereas there is among you envying, and strife, and divisions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men?
I. Terminal
An Old Man by
C. P. Cavafys (1863-1933)
At the noisy end of the café, head bent
over the table, an old man sits alone,
a newspaper in front of him.
And in the miserable banality of old age
he thinks how little he enjoyed the years
when he had strength, eloquence, and looks.
He knows he’s aged a lot: he sees it, feels it.
Yet it seems he was young just yesterday.
So brief an interval, so very brief.
And he thinks of Prudence, how it fooled him,
how he always believed—what madness—
that cheat who said: “Tomorrow. You have plenty of time.”
He remembers impulses bridled, the joy
he sacrificed. Every chance he lost
now mocks his senseless caution.
But so much thinking, so much remembering
makes the old man dizzy. He falls asleep,
his head resting on the café table.
II. Temporary
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas, 1914 – 1953
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
III. Transcending
An Old Man in Christ
The royal doors are open, the great Liturgy is about to begin!
In the pouring rain, our fate
In Your hands, Lord brighten,
We make our way to meet you,
Beloved, across massive puddles
Rising with the tide of excitement.
“Ah, the blameless in the way. Alleluia”
Heart, body, mind and soul
Thoroughly cleansed and washed,
We are determined
To sprinkle Joy on your grey day,
Be your Guardian angels For a while
And hold off dark clouds
Of abandonment.
“My soul is worn with endless longing. Alleluia”
At the door, your quiet Strength surprises us!
An enchanting infant’s smile, behold!
You Beam our welcome,
Appropriately Toothless!
Are you, old friend, but a year old?
“Lord, I am become as a bottle in the frost. Alleluia.”
Head bent, hands crossed
The epitrachelion wraps gently
Emasciated shoulders, frail, stooped.
Humbly you whisper to Father
Your Confession, Taste Loyal Servant
The Fountain of Immortality
Invisible choirs accompany our poor hymn!
“Call me up to You, O Savior, and save me. Alleluia.”
You live alone, at your 93,
Even climb, dear, bedroom’s stairs steep!
Yet Angels and Saints keep you company
“The sheep that was lost am I. Alleluia.”
World wars have feared
Your Faith’s strong fortress,
Violently, you took the kingdom, by force.
Ravenous wolves failed
To lead you astray, the one pearl of great price
You unearthed, All that you had
You sold and bought.
“The Choir of the Saints has found the Fountain of Life. Alleluia.”
What a living icon you are!
Like your faded with candles kissed
In your icon corner, full of Grace and Light
Painstakingly you commemorate,
Day-to-day, a long, tattered names’ list.
“Image am I of Your unutterable glory. Alleluia.”
You may be old, feeble and frail,
Yet your zeal and bright courage
Shames us all,
Amidst peppermint and cakes
His wonderful acts prophetically you proclaim,
The Spirit lifts you up,
To generations to come.
“Though I bear the scars of my stumblings. Alleluia”
Old Brother, toothless, we implore you in Christ,
Begging on your knees we sinful, beseech,
Under your roof, unworthy we pray
Just a little more while, abide with us,
Please stay, bless, to Heavens reach!
“Lead me back to be refashioned. Alleluia.”
Meek Humility, shine upon us,
Grace abundant your poor children enthuse!
What matters is the soul not the sole,
Bless us, Bless us, Guide us in judgment
You have inherited the Earth indeed.
Even if you’re wearing odd shoes!
“Into that ancient beauty of Your Likeness. Alleluia.”
ORTHODOX CHRISTIAN FAITH AND LIFE 