Our revered Elder,
You have always liked the doxastikon of the Vespers of Great Saturday:
You have always liked the doxastikon of the Vespers of Great Saturday:
"And God blessed the seventh day; for this is the blessed Sabbath; this is the day of rest, on which the Only Begotten Son of God rested from all his works through the economy of death, honoring the Sabbath in the flesh."
Today we are honoring your own Sabbath, your own rest and the rest from all works. Normally, respecting your wish, we should not have said anything but in silence and prayer to surrender your tabernacle to the earth and to send you forward to eternity. However, in obedience to dear brothers, I will dare to utter a few unskillful words.
You wrote in the Impressions:
"When we came to Iviron, which was becoming a monastery, someone saw me at work in the Monastery and said to me: 'It would be good if you were younger, so that you could complete the work.' An answer resounded within me: 'Man does not grow old, nor does he leave. The others who succeed him are his true self.'
Woe to him if the life and ambitions of man began and ended within the time of his passing life.
In the Church, death has been abolished and the communion of the Saints lives. The logic works: 'I rejoice in my sufferings.' And I begin my life when I finish.
Every difficulty helps you, and every blessing nourishes you...
The great things we have desired and the inexpressible things that have never entered the heart of man exist and shine brightly, now that the perishable and temporary things pass and depart.
The Ithaca towards which we are marching is a place of endless joy and spaciousness...
Everything co-operates in unfading light and in inexpressible joy...
In the beginning, the toil and struggle of life and creation. In the end, the peace of rest and the joy of the harvest."
Within these lines, your life and struggle and your end are outlined. You never wanted the spotlight and the praise. You often said that the true is honored when despised, and nowhere, neither in Stavronikita nor in Iviron, is your name found on any inscription.
You found rest in these words of Father Porphyrios: "to flee, to be lost, to cease to exist." You rested with the lost and exhausted, and they found solace, rest, and protection near you.
Many times you have been subjected to great trials by people you have benefited and trusted, but you were like Mount Athos, struck by lightning and storms, and yet remains unmoved, because you have always surrendered to the will of God. You continued to say that "He is among us, united with the Father above, and here with us invisibly. He sees us, watches over us invisibly, and when He judges, He intervenes to save us." You continued to say, "Glory be to God for all things."
You solved insoluble problems and were unyielding on issues that affected the centuries-old privileges of the Holy Mountain. You once told me on difficult issues of the Double Sacred Synaxis: "Go and the dead will speak, the ever-living tradition of the Holy Mountain, which is transmitted from generation to generation." You had a tremendous dynamism until the end and many times you appeared explosive and at the same time you were sensitive with the soul of a small child. When you felt that you had upset someone, you did not hesitate to say a blessing and to repent.
Your speeches at universities captivated students, because you spoke their language and soothed their troubled souls.
Your writings, like spilled blood, as you said, left a balm on the souls of suffering people.
You labored both at the Stavronikita Monastery and at Iviron, when you took over as abbot, for the building renovation of the Monasteries, paying attention to detail, respecting tradition and combining nobility with simplicity, saying that building is also theology. And today we feel that others have labored and we have entered into their labor (cf. John 4:38).
The greatest thing you did, which moved many and judged many, was your decision to resign from the abbotship, being in the prime of life, 70 years old, exactly 20 years ago. You withdrew into silence for sixteen years alone in the mountain. And the last four in the Monastery. And you told us: "Now I am a monk and I enjoy it and I am grateful to you for letting me retire." It is what you wrote: "Man does not grow old, nor does he leave. The others who succeed him are his true self."
Our revered Elder, we thank you for having considered us monks, having respected us, having supported us in times of trial and, using sometimes severity, sometimes leniency and oikonomia, you have guided us to the monastic life. You have offered us to the Church. You continued to say that an elder offers the subordinate to the Holy Table and not to his own virtue, wisdom, authority. She offers him at the holy altar and in a holy brotherhood, which is holy, because it has entrusted to this holy altar its entire life, plans and hope.
You had a spirit of freedom and respect for the man who bound you and threw you into philotimo.
We apologize if we saddened you or perhaps secretly, like humans, we complained. However, you were our elder, our father, under whose protection we found forgiveness, rest and peace of mind, like so many other people. Your presence and your shadow were for us security and support. Now that you have departed physically, perhaps we can get to know you even better.
Foreseeing your death, you asked for and received with emotion, opening your hands with joy like a little child, the Body and Blood of Christ as a provision for eternal life. And you prepared from that hour for the exodus, that is, for your entry into the Holy of Holies, and you said, "I have a foretaste the final great feast of my exodus and my funeral procession and burial in Iviron." You were talking about the eternity of God's love, that "I have been judged to live in Paradise and why should I deserve it. Paradise is the sweetest thing. If you live with Christ, you will live in Paradise. Everything is full of light. The Alpha is Christ and the Omega is the Catechetical Discourse of Saint John Chrysostom." And many more things.
The doctors and nurses of the ICU said how much they were helped and transformed internally by your presence there for three weeks.
The Panagia Portaitissa took you to her so that you could chant with those who have been asleep for centuries what you always loved:
Many times you have been subjected to great trials by people you have benefited and trusted, but you were like Mount Athos, struck by lightning and storms, and yet remains unmoved, because you have always surrendered to the will of God. You continued to say that "He is among us, united with the Father above, and here with us invisibly. He sees us, watches over us invisibly, and when He judges, He intervenes to save us." You continued to say, "Glory be to God for all things."
You solved insoluble problems and were unyielding on issues that affected the centuries-old privileges of the Holy Mountain. You once told me on difficult issues of the Double Sacred Synaxis: "Go and the dead will speak, the ever-living tradition of the Holy Mountain, which is transmitted from generation to generation." You had a tremendous dynamism until the end and many times you appeared explosive and at the same time you were sensitive with the soul of a small child. When you felt that you had upset someone, you did not hesitate to say a blessing and to repent.
Your speeches at universities captivated students, because you spoke their language and soothed their troubled souls.
Your writings, like spilled blood, as you said, left a balm on the souls of suffering people.
You labored both at the Stavronikita Monastery and at Iviron, when you took over as abbot, for the building renovation of the Monasteries, paying attention to detail, respecting tradition and combining nobility with simplicity, saying that building is also theology. And today we feel that others have labored and we have entered into their labor (cf. John 4:38).
The greatest thing you did, which moved many and judged many, was your decision to resign from the abbotship, being in the prime of life, 70 years old, exactly 20 years ago. You withdrew into silence for sixteen years alone in the mountain. And the last four in the Monastery. And you told us: "Now I am a monk and I enjoy it and I am grateful to you for letting me retire." It is what you wrote: "Man does not grow old, nor does he leave. The others who succeed him are his true self."
Our revered Elder, we thank you for having considered us monks, having respected us, having supported us in times of trial and, using sometimes severity, sometimes leniency and oikonomia, you have guided us to the monastic life. You have offered us to the Church. You continued to say that an elder offers the subordinate to the Holy Table and not to his own virtue, wisdom, authority. She offers him at the holy altar and in a holy brotherhood, which is holy, because it has entrusted to this holy altar its entire life, plans and hope.
You had a spirit of freedom and respect for the man who bound you and threw you into philotimo.
We apologize if we saddened you or perhaps secretly, like humans, we complained. However, you were our elder, our father, under whose protection we found forgiveness, rest and peace of mind, like so many other people. Your presence and your shadow were for us security and support. Now that you have departed physically, perhaps we can get to know you even better.
Foreseeing your death, you asked for and received with emotion, opening your hands with joy like a little child, the Body and Blood of Christ as a provision for eternal life. And you prepared from that hour for the exodus, that is, for your entry into the Holy of Holies, and you said, "I have a foretaste the final great feast of my exodus and my funeral procession and burial in Iviron." You were talking about the eternity of God's love, that "I have been judged to live in Paradise and why should I deserve it. Paradise is the sweetest thing. If you live with Christ, you will live in Paradise. Everything is full of light. The Alpha is Christ and the Omega is the Catechetical Discourse of Saint John Chrysostom." And many more things.
The doctors and nurses of the ICU said how much they were helped and transformed internally by your presence there for three weeks.
The Panagia Portaitissa took you to her so that you could chant with those who have been asleep for centuries what you always loved:
"All generations call you blessed, the only Theotokos. The boundaries of nature are overcome in you, O Immaculate Virgin: for childbirth is a sign of virginity and death is heralded by life" (Dormition of the Theotokos, eirmos of the 9th ode)
We thank the representative of His All-Holiness our Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew, His Eminence the Metropolitan of Symi. We ask that you convey to His All-Holiness our thanks, our filial respect and love. His prayers are a balm to our souls.
We thank the holy hierarchs, the holy abbots and all the fathers and brothers who came to pray together for the repose of the Elder’s soul.
I conclude with these words with which you, fifty-one years ago, concluded your introduction to The Transcendence of Death in the Monastic Life:
"We can now conclude by remembering the comforting words of the Prophet Isaiah: 'Thus says the Lord: Blessed is he who has seed in Zion and a house in Jerusalem.' And we can all say that we are blessed because we have in the Zion of Orthodoxy (the Holy Mountain) the seed of the holy ascetics. And in the Upper Jerusalem we have so many houses. They live for us and constitute the light and hope for our present and future life."
Our revered Elder, we believe that from today within these families we too have light, support and hope in the continuation of our monastic life.
Good Paradise. May we have your blessing.
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
We thank the holy hierarchs, the holy abbots and all the fathers and brothers who came to pray together for the repose of the Elder’s soul.
I conclude with these words with which you, fifty-one years ago, concluded your introduction to The Transcendence of Death in the Monastic Life:
"We can now conclude by remembering the comforting words of the Prophet Isaiah: 'Thus says the Lord: Blessed is he who has seed in Zion and a house in Jerusalem.' And we can all say that we are blessed because we have in the Zion of Orthodoxy (the Holy Mountain) the seed of the holy ascetics. And in the Upper Jerusalem we have so many houses. They live for us and constitute the light and hope for our present and future life."
Our revered Elder, we believe that from today within these families we too have light, support and hope in the continuation of our monastic life.
Good Paradise. May we have your blessing.
Source: Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
