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Archive for the ‘Saints’ Category

Here is a short version of the life of St Brigid:

(Source) Saint Brigid, “the Mary of the Gael,” was born around 450 in Faughart, about two miles from Dundalk in County Louth. According to Tradition, her father was a pagan named Dubthach, and her mother was Brocessa (Broiseach), one of his slaves.

Even as a child, she was known for her compassion for the poor. She would give away food, clothing, and even her father’s possessions to the poor. One day he took Brigid to the king’s court, leaving her outside to wait for him. He asked the king to buy his daughter from him, since her excessive generosity made her too expensive for him to keep. The king asked to see the girl, so Dubthach led him outside. They were just in time to see her give away her father’s sword to a beggar. This sword had been presented to Dubthach by the king, who said, “I cannot buy a girl who holds us so cheap.”

Saint Brigid received monastic tonsure at the hands of Saint Mael of Ardagh (February 6). Soon after this, she established a monastery on land given to her by the King of Leinster. The land was called Cill Dara (Kildare), or “the church of the oak.” This was the beginning of women’s cenobitic monasticism in Ireland.

The miracles performed by Saint Brigid are too numerous to relate here, but perhaps one story will suffice. One evening the holy abbess was sitting with the blind nun Dara. From sunset to sunrise they spoke of the joys of the Kingdom of Heaven, and of the love of Christ, losing all track of time. Saint Brigid was struck by the beauty of the earth and sky in the morning light. Realizing that Sister Dara was unable to appreciate this beauty, she became very sad. Then she prayed and made the Sign of the Cross over Dara’s eyes. All at once, the blind nun’s eyes were opened and she saw the sun in the east, and the trees and flowers sparkling with dew. She looked for a while, then turned to Saint Brigid and said, “Close my eyes again, dear Mother, for when the world is visible to the eyes, then God is seen less clearly by the soul.” Saint Brigid prayed again, and Dara became blind once more.

Saint Brigid fell asleep in the Lord in the year 523 after receiving Holy Communion from Saint Ninnidh of Inismacsaint (January 18). She was buried at Kildare, but her relics were transferred to Downpatrick during the Viking invasions. It is believed that she was buried in the same grave with Saint Patrick (March 17) and Saint Columba of Iona (June 9).

Late in the thirteenth century, her head was brought to Portugal by three Irish knights on their way to fight in the Holy Land. They left this holy relic in the parish church of Lumiar, about three miles from Lisbon. Portions of the relic were brought back to Ireland in 1929 and placed in a new church of Saint Brigid in Dublin.

The relics of Saint Brigid in Ireland were destroyed in the sixteenth century by Lord Grey during the reign of Henry VIII.

The tradition of making Saint Brigid’s crosses from rushes and hanging them in the home is still followed in Ireland, where devotion to her is still strong. She is also venerated in northern Italy, France, and Wales.

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Three years ago today the world lost a holy father, Elder Ephraim of Arizona. However, in as much as he “completed the race” and was found worthy to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, we gained a saint! Now we have him as our heavenly intercessor, but even during his earthly life his prayers could move mountains! For instance. . .

Many are the stories that tell of the Lord’s marvelous works enacted through the prayers and intercessions of the saints. Our family’s own story of Geronda Ephraim’s miraculous, much-needed help is just one of countless examples of the inability for saints of God to be limited by time or space. Indeed, those who dwell in Christ hearken to the desperate pleas of those entreating them, even halfway around the world. 

My husband, brother, sister-in-law and I were living in Thessaloniki at the time. We had been there for a few years studying theology. One year, we made plans to go home to Canada for summer vacation. My brother took on the responsibility of booking the least expensive airplane tickets available. For this reason, each couple flew on separate flights to Athens but planned to meet at the airport as we were able to get tickets on the same flight to Montreal. 

My husband and I arrived in Athens first. We proceeded to the counter to check into our flight. The lady at the counter noticed our Canadian passports and began enthusiastically asking us what brought us to Greece, what we were studying, and why we chose to study theology in an Orthodox country. “Are there no theological schools in Canada?” she asked, wide-eyed. Astonished that we would choose to learn Modern Greek and study Orthodox theology at a Greek university, she completed the task of printing our airline tickets likely with a little less attention to detail than she would normal exhibit. While she handed us the tickets and our passports we thanked her for her service and said goodbye.

As we were walking away, I looked down at my airline ticket for the first time. To my shock I did not see my legal name—the name that appears on my passport, my married name. Instead, staring up at me in bold capital letters was my maiden name, PENNEY. This, a name I had changed nearly six years prior and in which I had no identification to bear witness to the fact that I and the person whose ticket I held were one in the same. Everyone knows airlines do not let you travel if the name on your ticket does not match the name on your passport. Needless to say I began to panic.

Meeting up with my brother and sister-in-law, I showed them the ticket. My brother’s eyes grew large and he said, “When I booked the tickets maybe I put it in your maiden name by mistake!” Looking at my husband he said, “And I even had you double-check all the information to make sure it was correct! I guess we both missed it!” That additional piece of information did little calm my nerves.  

We debated whether we should return to the counter to discuss our unexpected dilemma with the nice lady who issued us the ticket (and who had herself not noticed the discrepancy) or to take a leap of faith and see if we could navigate through all the upcoming checkpoints without being detected. We decided on the latter. 

Proceeding toward the European passport control booth, we noticed, just by happenstance, the booth was empty. 

Not even looking around to see if someone was watching, I rushed through undetected. Just as my husband and I got on the other side the man returned to check my brother and sister-in-law’s passports and tickets. As we proceeded toward our gate we were asked two or three more times by various officials to show our tickets and passports; each time they only asked for one or the other, never both. By the time we arrived at the gate we knew our hitherto easy passage may be coming to an end, for here at the sixth and final check-point, I was going to have to show both my ticket and my passport simultaneously. And so, we came up with a plan to deal with the inevitability that I was about to get caught trying to board a plane with a ticket that did not match the name on my passport.       

If there was any way for us to make it through the final check-point we knew we needed the prayers of Geronda Ephraim. Every time we encountered an impossible situation in our family we had the habit of calling on him to strengthen our pleas before God and to find a solution to our problems. We knew without a doubt he could hear our prayers, even while halfway across the world in Arizona.

And so, we employed the phrase we had heard from a friend of ours years prior and often used for comedic effect, “We better jam on the prayer rope!” Each rolling our prayer ropes off our wrists, the four of us agreed to say, “Through the prayer of Geronda Ephraim, Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on me.” Remembering he was carrying a photograph of Geronda Ephraim (with Saint Joseph the Hesychast’s image on the back) my brother handed me the picture to tuck into my passport for good measure.

We decided on the order each of us would take to proceed to the counter to show our tickets and passports. We figured my brother should go first, with my maiden name, then my sister-in-law, again with the same last name, I, with the confusion of two different names (whereupon I would doubtlessly get caught!) and finally, my husband with our married name. Then, when we heard the dreaded, albeit inevitable, phrase, “You cannot board this plane with a ticket that is not in your name!” we would make our best effort to convince the airline worker there had been a huge, but hopefully forgivable, mistake.  

Hearing the call to board we exchanged nervous glances and tried to pretend everything was normal. As we had agreed, my brother went first. He handed the attendant his ticket and passport. She looked at the ticket and looked at the passport. She looked at the passport and looked at him. Tearing off the ticket stub, with a nod of her head she indicated he was to proceed. Next, was my sister-in-law, following the same pattern, with a nod the attendant indicated she too could proceed. Here it was my turn. I took a deep breath, all the while internally praying with a panicked voice for Geronda Ephraim and Saint Joseph to help. I handed the attendant my ticket and passport. She looked at the ticket and tore the stub off. Just as she was about to look at my passport she dropped all the stubs she had been holding. Only after bending down and collecting them all did she look at my passport and look at me. She handed me my ticket and my passport. With a nod she indicated I could proceed. 

Incidentally, in the confusion of collecting all the stubs and only afterwards looking at my passport she had not noticed that the name on my ticket and the name on my passport were not the same. I tried my best to contain to a grin the huge smile beginning to spread across my face. Thanking her I proceeded down the ramp, with my husband following soon after. With muted whisperings of “Glory to God” and discretely crossing ourselves (for we did not want the airline attendants to grow suspicious at seeing us rejoicing) we all gave thanks to God for working a miracle for us through the prayers of Blessed Geronda Ephraim.

Father John and I venerating Geronda Ephraim’s tomb.

Truly, the saints are eager to intercede for us! May we always be found worthy of the prayers of such a holy man!

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(Elder Isidoros, Elder Ephraim of Arizona, and Elder Ephraim of Xeropotamou)

Excerpt from The Scent of Holiness: Lessons from a Women’s Monastery by Constantina R. Palmer, published by Ancient Faith Publishing (2012), pp. 227-231.

He Exalts Them of Low Degree
I’LL SHARE WITH YOU YET another experience I had with the blind Elder Isidoros of the Holy Mountain. This servant of God was so humble that although he worked many miracles—such as curing people of cancer, healing others of multiple sclerosis, curing a blind woman—he believed none of it came as a result of his own holiness. He felt the miracles happened solely through the prayers of his spiritual father, Elder Ephraim of St. Anthony’s Monastery in Arizona.

By the time I met him, Elder Isidoros had been a spiritual child of Elder Ephraim for over thirty years. He had a thirty-three-knot prayer rope (the kind worn on the wrist) given to him by Elder Ephraim, which he kept in a small clear plastic bag with an icon of the Mother of God the Sweet-kisser (housed in Philotheou Monastery) taped onto it. With this simple, small prayer rope he prayed over people, and they were healed from all sorts of ailments. He attributed it all to the prayers of his spiritual father.

“Through the prayers of my Geronda,” he would say. And just like that, miracles happened!

By his profound humility, strong faith, and pure heart he attracted the grace of God, and God worked miracles through him. Because he thought himself unworthy to do such miracles, God enabled him to work them. Christ tells us, “If you had faith as a grain of mustard . . .” (Luke 17:6). This faith he obviously had.

A presvytera who lived quite close to the monastery had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She and her husband had four children. From his grief and worry that their children would lose their mother, the priest became paler each day. The weight of his wife’s impending death hung around his neck like a millstone. A friend of theirs told them Elder Isidoros was at the monastery. She suggested they go and take his blessing, and perhaps he could pray over the presvytera. They wisely heeded her advice and came to the monastery while I was also there.

When they went in to see the elder, he greeted them. They spoke a little, and he took out the relics he always carried around with him and offered them for veneration. Then he took out his little plastic bag with the small prayer rope inside and laid it on her.

“Through the prayers of Geronda Ephraim,” he said. And then in his characteristically strange, but funny way he said, “It’s leaving, it’s leaving! The cat will eat it!”

And that was it; his faith had healed her.

His spiritual daughter, a friend of mine, told me afterward that whenever someone he prayed over came to him to tell him the doctors could no longer locate the cancer, he always responded, “Yeah, because the cat ate it!”

During this same visit, my eczema was very bad, especially on my hands. The sisters told me to ask the elder to pray over them, so I took the opportunity while he was sitting with me when I was measuring and packaging some pasta.

“Papouli, I have really bad eczema on my hands right now, and they hurt a lot. Do you think you can pray over them?”

He took out the small prayer rope from his pocket and placed it in between my hands so that the eczema rashes were touching the plastic bag that held the rope. With my hands like this, he held them in his own.

“Papou, Geronda, do something!” he said, in the same way a child speaks to his father. He began to pray fervently, “Kyrie Isou Hriste eleison me . . . Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.” He said “Papou” signifying Elder Joseph the Hesychast, his spiritual “grandfather,” the spiritual father of Elder Ephraim, and “Geronda,” obviously, addressing Elder Ephraim.

“How do you feel?” he asked me. “Do you feel warmth?”

“Mostly in my face, Geronda, but I think it’s because I’m a little embarrassed,” I said.

He continued to pray fervently.

“And now? Now, how do you feel?” he asked.

I began to have a strong feeling of spiritual joy in my heart.

“I feel joy,” I said.

“Joy? Anything else?” he asked.

“And peace.”

He continued to pray, and I continued to feel spiritually energized.

It was as though he were an outlet and my hands were the plug. I plugged into the spiritual outlet, and spiritual joy and peace were traveling through his hands into mine and through my whole body, right down into my feet, like an electrical current.

“Joy and peace, is that it?”

“A lot of peace,” I said quietly.

“And your hands, how do they feel?” he asked, letting them go.

I looked at them. The rashes were still there, but the sensation I was feeling overwhelmed any hint of irritation I had felt just a few moments ago.

“Better,” I said.

I felt so peaceful, so full of spiritual joy, that I had no other answer to give. Through his humble prayer, he allowed those spiritual sensations to pass from him into me. I felt spiritually rejuvenated for at least three days following this encounter. When I returned home, I put some ointment on my hands, and the rashes disappeared. I have not had any eczema rashes return since that time, even though I’ve had eczema since I was a teenager.

I must confess, however, that the spiritual peace and joy the elder conducted into me mean more to me than having some rashes healed. God knows what we need. The eczema may return, and I may have to live with that condition. But recalling and maintaining the spiritual fruit the elder offered me would be a far greater miracle. Through his prayers and his humble example, I hope to someday re-establish those spiritual sentiments and have them remain in my heart for the rest of my life.

From this experience I learned that when God gives us these small spiritual boosts, we should struggle with all our might to safeguard them with prayer and watchfulness. For they may well go away, with or without negligence, but it’s always better if we do all we can to keep them.

Even recalling the story fills me with courage to struggle harder. Ultimately this is what miracles should do for us. This is what my encounter with the elder taught me. Miracles are opportunities for our faith to increase and our resolve to struggle harder to be strengthened. God is glorified by His saints, and He glorifies them!

Post-script: This event occurred ten years ago now and to this day I am free of eczema.

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A New Intercessor in the Heavens

Yesterday I learned that Geronda Isidoros o tuflos (the blind), a holy monk from Philotheiou who I wrote about in both The Scent of Holiness and The Sweetness of Grace, reposed in the Lord on November 27, 2022. Words fail me to express the charismatic grace he possessed and communicated to everyone who came into contact with him.

Once, upon returning to Thessaloniki after having visited with him at a monastery not far from the city, a friend commented on my demeanor. She said she could see in my face how bright I was, how encouraged and filled with joy. That was the effect he had on everyone. He communicated joy like a fire communicates heat. His unending faith in his spiritual father, Geronda Ephraim of Arizona, was so intense that he literally worked miracles in his elder’s name. He was proof that loving Christ and loving your spiritual father leads you to a sanctified life and attracts the grace of God. He was an indwelling of the Holy Spirit and his love for Christ manifested as tireless love for his neighbour. His joy and laughter were infectious. His faith was admirable. His love was all-consuming. He was what each earnest Christian is seeking to become: a small ‘Christ’ in a dark world.

And now, I believe we can say with certainty, he is numbered among the righteous, has found boldness before the Throne of God, and will be a quick-to-hear intercessor on our behalf.

Pray for him and pray to him! He is a saint! (He also prophesied that my father would be baptised – and he was! You can read about it HERE.)

GERONDA, DON’T FORGET TO PRAY FOR US DOWN HERE!!!

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(Source)

Saint Cecilia was born in Rome during the III century to wealthy and illustrious parents, who were idolaters. Hearing the Gospel preached, she came to believe in Christ, and vowed to preserve her virginity. Against her will, however, they betrothed her to a noble pagan named Valerian, and forced her to wear fine clothes and jewelry at all times. Beneath these rich garments, she wore a rough hair shirt.

Filled with love for her Bridegroom Christ, she entreated Him to prevent the wedding. When the day of the marriage arrived, Saint Cecilia wept bitterly and prayed that the Lord would send an Angel to guard her chastity. That night, as they were led to the bridal chamber, she told her husband that an invisible Angel had been sent to defend her virginity. “If you touch me,” she said, “he will slay you at once.”

Valerian asked to see this Angel, but she told him, “you cannot see the Angel because you do not know the true God. You will not be able to see the Angel until you are cleansed of the impurity of unbelief.”

“How may I be cleansed?” he asked.

She said that if he asked Bishop Urban to baptize him, he would be able to see the Angel. The Saint persuaded her husband to see Bishop Urban, who was hiding from the persecution in a cave along the Appian Way. The wise bishop’s instructions filled Valerian’s soul with joy, and after his Baptism Bishop Urban sent him home.

He found Cecilia praying, and saw an Angel of indescribable beauty standing beside her, holding two crowns of red roses and white lilies. Placing the wreaths on their heads he said, “Guard these wreaths by keeping your hearts pure and your bodies undefiled. I have brought them from Paradise, and no one can see them unless they, like you, are lovers of chastity. God sent me to you, Valerian, because you have agreed to preserve your purity. He wants you to have what you desire.”

Valerian said, “No one is dearer to me than my brother Tiburtius. I ask the Lord to deliver him from the worship of idols, and convert him, as he converted me.”

The Angel said that this request was pleasing to God, and would be granted. He also revealed that Valerian and Tiburtius would suffer martyrdom together. Soon after this, Tiburtius came to visit his brother. When he entered the house, he noticed the fragrance of roses and lilies. Valerian told him that he was able to smell the flowers because he had prayed that Tiburtius would come to love God and become worthy of an unfading crown.

“Am I dreaming,” Tiburtius exclaimed, “or are you really telling me this?”

Valerian answered, “Until now, we have been living as if in a dream, worshiping false ‘gods’ and unclean demons. Now we walk in God’s truth and grace.”

After receiving instruction, Tiburtius was baptized by Bishop Urban. Then the brothers distributed part of their inheritance to the poor, took care of the sick, and buried the Christians who had been tortured to death by their persecutors.

This was reported to Almachius, the Eparch of the city, who ordered that the brothers be arrested and brought to trial. He ordered the Saints to renounce Christ and offer sacrifice to the pagan “gods,” but the brothers refused. Then they scourged the brothers without mercy. Saint Valerian urged the Christians not to fear torments, but to stand firm for Christ.

In order to prevent the brothers from influencing the people, Almachius ordered that the martyrs be taken outside the city and executed there. The soldiers accompanying the martyrs to execution were commanded by Maximus. He was amazed at the courage of the Saints, and asked them why they did not fear death. The holy brothers said that they were exchanging this temporal life for everlasting life. Maximus wanted to learn Christian teaching in detail. He took Saints Valerian and Tiburtius to his own house and conversed with them all night. When she heard of this, Saint Cecilia went with a priest to Maximus. Then he and his entire family were baptized.

The next day, when the Martyrs Valerian and Tiburtius were beheaded, Saint Maximus confessed before everyone that he saw their holy souls being taken up to Heaven. Because of this, the holy Martyr Maximus was beaten to death.

The Eparch wanted to confiscate the property of those who had been executed, but when he was told that Saint Cecilia had already given her remaining wealth to the poor and had converted 400 men, he ordered her execution. For three days they tormented her in an overheated bath-house, with the heat and steam, but she was helped by the grace of God. Seeing that Saint Cecilia was still alive, they decided to behead her. The executioner struck her three times with a sword, but only wounded her. The holy Martyr lived three more days in full consciousness, encouraging those around her. Finally, she surrendered her soul to God, and her body was buried with reverence.

Saint Cecilia is regarded as the patron Saint of Church music. St. John Chrysostom extols the benefits of sacred music, and shows how strongly the fire of divine love is kindled in the soul by devout psalmody. (On Psalm 41).

The Holy Relics of Saints Valerian and Tiburtius are in the Roman Catholic Basilica of Saints Valerian and Cecilia in Rome.

May we be found worthy to have their prayers and blessings in our own lives!

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(Source)

Saint Alypius, one of the first and finest of Russian iconographers, was a disciple of Saint Nikon (March 23), and from his youth he lived a life of asceticism at the Kiev Caves monastery. He studied the iconography of the Greek masters, and from the year 1083 beautified the Caves monastery church of the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos.

If he learned that in some church the icons had become worn, he took them with him and restored them without charge. If people happened to pay him for his work, he set aside one third to purchase supplies for painting icons, one third as alms for the poor, and the remainder for his own needs.

Saint Alypius was never famous, and he painted icons only to serve God. He was ordained a hieromonk, and was known for working miracles even in his lifetime. Saint Alypius healed a Kievan man suffering from leprosy and decay of the body by anointing the wounds of the sick man with the paints he used for the painting of icons. Many of his icons were glorified by miracles, and sometimes angels helped him in the holy task of painting icons.

A certain man of Kiev who had built a church, once gave two monks of the Caves a commission to have icons painted for it. The monks concealed the money and said nothing to Saint Alypius about it. After waiting a long time for the work to be completed, the man went to the igumen to complain about Saint Alypius. Only then did they discover that he had not been told of the commission. When they brought the boards provided by the customer, it turned out that beautiful icons had already been painted on them.

When the church was consumed by fire, all of the icons remained unharmed. One of these icons (the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos), known as the Vladimir-Rostov Icon (August 15), was taken by Great Prince Vladimir Monomakh (1113-1125) to a church he had built at Rostov.

Another time, when Saint Alypius lay deathly ill, an angel painted an icon of the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos for him. On August 17 (around the year 1114), an angel came to receive the soul of Saint Alypius, and he was buried in the Near Caves. The first three fingers of Saint Alypius’s right hand were positioned together, and the last two were bent to the palm. It seems that he died while signing himself with the Sign of the Cross.

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(Source)

“Once the Elder [St. Herman of Alaska] was invited aboard a frigate which came from Saint Petersburg. The Captain of the frigate was a highly educated man, who had been sent to America by order of the Emperor to make an inspection of all the colonies. There were more than twenty-five officers with the Captain, and they also were educated men. In the company of this group sat a monk of a hermitage, small in stature and wearing very old clothes. All these educated conversationalists were placed in such a position by his wise talks that they did not know how to answer him. The Captain himself used to say, ‘We were lost for an answer before him.’

“Father Herman gave them all one general question: ‘Gentlemen, What do you love above all, and what will each of you wish for your happiness?’ Various answers were offered … Some desired wealth, others glory, some a beautiful wife, and still others a beautiful ship he would captain; and so forth in the same vein. ‘Is it not true,’ Father Herman said to them concerning this, ‘that all your various wishes can bring us to one conclusion—that each of you desires that which in his own understanding he considers the best, and which is most worthy of his love?’ They all answered, ‘Yes, that is so!’ He then continued, ‘Would you not say, Is not that which is best, above all, and surpassing all, and that which by preference is most worthy of love, the Very Lord, our Jesus Christ, who created us, adorned us with such ideals, gave life to all, sustains everything, nurtures and loves all, who is Himself Love and most beautiful of all men? Should we not then love God above every thing, desire Him more than anything, and search Him out?’

“All said, ‘Why, yes! That’s self-evident!’ Then the Elder asked, ‘But do you love God?’ They all answered, ‘Certainly, we love God. How can we not love God?’ ‘And I a sinner have been trying for more than forty years to love God, I cannot say that I love Him completely,’ Father Herman protested to them. He then began to demonstrate to them the way in which we should love God. ‘If we love someone,’ he said, ‘we always remember them; we try to please them. Day and night our heart is concerned with the subject. Is that the way you gentlemen love God? Do you turn to Him often? Do you always remember Him? Do you always pray to Him and fulfill His holy commandments?’ They had to admit that they had not! ‘For our own good, and for our own fortune,’ concluded the Elder, ‘let us at least promise ourselves that from this very minute we will try to love God more than anything and to fulfill His Holy Will!’ Without any doubt this conversation was imprinted in the hearts of the listeners for the rest of their lives.’

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I recently finished this icon of St. Photios. I was very happy to be able to listen to the saint’s work The Mystagogy of the Holy Spirit while I painted his countenance. The saint wrote the text as a refutation of the West’s introduction of the phrase “and with the Son” into the Nicene Creed. (This phrase is known as the philoque). The text is a great work and it was a great work that someone took the time and effort to put the text into an audio file. As a result the saint’s words and teachings accompanied my painting. I encourage you to listen as well. It helps if you’ve had a background in philosophy but the wisdom of the Holy Spirit surpasses mankind’s philosophies so it’s not necessary in order to understand. It just helps a little.

A saint-loving parishioner took this photo while she was visiting:

May we have the saint’s prayers and blessing! And may we, like him, diligently safeguard our Orthodox faith!

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This beautiful article and accompanying photos are from St. Anthony’s Greek Orthodox Monastery website.

(Source)

Maria (the future Abbess Makrina) was born in 1921 and grew up in Volos. When she was only ten, both of her parents died, and she began working to support herself and her younger brother. These two orphans managed to survive like this until she was twenty. But when the German Occupation began and famine struck Greece in 1941, they nearly died of starvation, and her brother left Volos. She continued working in Volos wherever she could for her daily bread. Despite her own poverty, she shared whatever food she had with others. Not only was she a hard worker and generous, but she was especially a person of prayer and frequently perceived God’s help tangibly.

In those days, she became acquainted with the mother of Geronda Ephraim, Victoria Moraitis. Those two holy women would pray together all night long on their knees with many tears and prostrations. Because of Maria’s virtues, other pious young women gathered around her during the years of the German Occupation.

Gerontissa Makrina
Panagia Hodigitria Monastery

They lived like an informal sisterhood and yearned to become nuns. They were under the guidance of Father Ephraim of Volos, who had previously been part of Saint Joseph the Hesychast’s brotherhood. Even though he was doing great work with his large flock, he was slandered in 1952 and was forced to leave Volos. Thus, his spiritual children there became “orphans.”

Several spiritual fathers offered to assume the spiritual responsibility for this virtuous sisterhood, but those women, having already acquired the spiritual mind-set of Saint Joseph, could not be satisfied spiritually with any of them. They considered asking him to become their spiritual father, but they hesitated because they had heard how strict he was.

Finally, they did write to him, since they refused to settle for less. The Saint prayed about their request and then wrote back to them: “If you are obedient to me, I will assume responsibility for you. If you aren’t, I will leave you.” They replied: “Geronda, we will be obedient to whatever you tell us to do.” When he received their reply, he prayed again about them. After this, he wrote back and told them that they should treat Maria as their abbess, even though he had never seen her.

He explained to them: “While I was praying, I saw Maria in a vision. She was in the middle, and around her were many little sheep. I realized that this was God’s way of informing me that she should be your abbess. So be obedient to her, and none of you should object to what she says.” Those women said, “May it be blessed,” and the Saint was very happy with their obedience.

He loved them very much because with the eyes of his soul he could see the love they had for Christ, their Bridegroom. This is why he wrote many letters to them. He strengthened them with advice that was simple yet powerful. For example, in one letter to them, he wrote: “Seek nothing but unity and love. Be obedient in order to acquire humility, for our Lord Jesus Christ became an example for all of us and taught humility by being obedient till death. So submit yourselves to Maria, who is trying to benefit you, and all of us here are praying that the Lord will help you and make you worthy of eternal life. I am praying for you with all my soul, humble little Geronda Joseph.”

These women would send their confessions to the Saint, and they saved his many replies as a priceless treasure. He had written to them about theoria and about many spiritual states of his.

Gerontissa Makrina
Panagia Hodigitria Monastery, 1970’s

Unfortunately, all those letters were lost because of the following incident: There was a monk who was not mentally well who wanted to become the spiritual father of those women. They didn’t want him because they didn’t trust him. Besides, they had already found great benefit by being under Saint Joseph. Since that monk was very jealous, he threatened to slander them to the newspapers if he found Saint Joseph’s letters to them. Maria was very afraid of what might happen if he got his hands on those letters because in them Saint Joseph addressed all their confessions. So she decided to burn all of his letters.

Thus, all were destroyed except for eight letters that one of the sisters had kept hidden separately. That is how all those priceless letters of Saint Joseph were lost. What a shame! They would have benefited so many people if they had been preserved and published along with his other letters.

These women eventually became nuns and established a monastery in Portaria, just outside Volos.

One of those nuns told the following story about their life under Saint Joseph:

He foretold everything to us. He wrote about everything happening in our monastery without having been told. Once when I was a novice, my sister (who was also a novice) got very sick. I was very upset and said in my prayers: “Panagia, why? We came here to serve you. Why should she get sick and not be able to offer her help to the monastery?” Then I went down to the courtyard and wept beneath an olive tree all night. A few days later, a letter came for me from Geronda Joseph. He wrote: “My little child, I hear your voice and I can’t bear it. The pain breaks my heart and interrupts my prayer. Don’t weep. Your sister will get well.”

He wrote this without anyone telling him!

Gerontissa Makrina with Gerontissa Theophano

The other sisters said to me, “What did you do?” “I just went and wept beneath an olive tree. But how did he know that, since he was so far away on the Holy Mountain?”

Something similar happened when Gerontissa Makrina became gravely ill and was coughing up blood. We didn’t have a telephone to inform him about it. But in our next letter to him, we concealed her illness from him because we didn’t want to upset him and interrupt his prayer. But then he sent us a letter and said: “My little children, why didn’t you write to me that Gerontissa is ill and is suffering, so that we could pray for her? You made a big mistake thinking that this would interrupt my prayer. When Father Arsenios and I were praying last night, we noetically saw that she was seriously ill, and we prayed hard for her. My children, I want you to inform me about whatever is happening with the monastery and especially with Gerontissa. Write me about it.”

Abbess Makrina likewise saw Saint Joseph and Father Arsenios beside her pillow at night making the sign of the Cross and praying with their prayer-ropes, “Lord, heal Your servant.”

Abbess Makrina later said: “Many times when Geronda was praying, he would see what we were doing and where we were. We wondered how he could write to us on his own and tell us about what we were thinking. After this, our souls were filled with awe and fear!”

After the repose of Saint Joseph, Saint Ephraim of Katounakia in his vigil frequently saw with the eyes of his soul two pillars of fire in Volos ascending from earth to heaven. It was the prayers of Abbess Makrina and one of her nuns full of grace.

Saint Ephraim said full of delight: “Lord, have mercy! My, my! Just take a look at them! We’re out here on the cliffs working so hard just to find a few crumbs of grace, while they are in the world with so much grace! What are they doing over there?”

In her later years their monastery became known for its spirituality, and thousands of pilgrims from all over Greece would find refuge and great benefit from the unforgettable Abbess Makrina.

Her face radiated kindness, love, sincerity, and faith. Her tranquility and her sweet words were a support and a fountain of strength for all who had the blessing of knowing her before her holy repose in 1995.

From her blessed sisterhood, nuns were sent to populate the monasteries of the Holy Forerunner in Serres and of the Archangel Michael in Thasos. In turn, these monasteries sent nuns to North America who established new monasteries with the ideals of traditional Orthodox monasticism.

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Fr John and I at the 2022 St. Kosmas Conference

Today I came across the above homily Fr John gave in our parish in Newfoundland. It is Homily 10 in a series of homilies on Blessed Makrina’s teachings. There are twenty-seven homilies in the series and (my personal bias aside) they’re awesome.

Happy (almost) Sunday of St John Climacus!

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