Η κυρία Βασιλική Τζουρμανά από το Κομμένο Άρτας μαρτυρεί:
«Άκουσα σε μια Εκκλησία της Άρτας για πρώτη φορά να συζητούν για την Λαμπρινή και τα πνευματικά της χαρίσματα και ένιωσα μεγάλη επιθυμία να την γνωρίσω. Με μια συγγένισσά μου που την ήξερε πήγαμε στο φτωχικό σπιτάκι της. Από τότε για σαράντα περίπου χρόνια μέχρι πού έφυγε από την ζωή την ακολουθούσα σχεδόν πάντοτε σε προσκυνήματα, σε αγρυπνίες, σε λειτουργίες που έκανε σε Εκκλησίες και κοιμόμασταν μέσα σ' αυτές τις νύχτες.
Η θεια Λαμπρινή προσευχόταν και διάβαζε πολλές ώρες και κοιμόταν ελάχιστα.
Κάποτε ζήτησα την βοήθειά της. Ο άνδρας μου χαρτόπαιζε και παραμελούσε το σπίτι. Είχαμε φθάσει σε αδιέξοδο. «Μη φοβάσαι», μου είπε, «όλα θα τα τακτοποιήσει ο Κύριος Ιησούς Χριστός, αρκεί να δείξεις πίστη στον Κύριο».
Μου ζήτησε για σαράντα μέρες να ξυπνώ στις 3 μετά τα μεσάνυχτα και να προσεύχομαι κάνοντας και 40 μετάνοιες. Μου είχε δώσει να διαβάζω κάποιες προσευχές και μου είπε ότι και αυτή θα προσεύχεται για να μας βοηθήσει ο Κύριος. «Πράγματι έκανα όπως μου είπε η θεια Λαμπρινή κρυφά από τον άνδρα μου και μετά τις σαράντα μέρες ξαφνικά όλα άλλαξαν.
Ο άνδρας μου δεν ξανάπαιξε χαρτιά, ασχολούνταν με τα κτήματα και την οικογένεια και τα
οικονομικά μας βελτιώθηκαν.
Κάποτε με τη θεία Λαμπρινή και άλλες γυναίκες κοιμηθήκαμε σε μια Εκκλησία. Αφού τελείωσε τις προσευχές της ξάπλωσε να κοιμηθεί. Εμένα δεν με έπαιρνε ο ύπνος. Ακούω την θεία Λαμπρινή ενώ κοιμόταν έβγαζε κάτι αναστεναγμούς, σαν να δούλευε και ήταν πολύ κουρασμένη.
Αυτό κράτησε για λίγο. Σηκώθηκα και έπιασα τα χέρια της και τα πόδια της. Ήταν σαν να έπιανα έναν πεθαμένο...
Κατάλαβα ότι πάλι η θεια Λαμπρινή έφυγε πνευματικά από το σώμα της. Τις πρωινές ώρες την άκουσα πάλι σαν να αγκομαχούσε. «Τώρα θα επέστρεψε», σκέφθηκα. Μόλις ξύπνησε την ρωτάω: «Το βράδυ έφυγες; Που πήγες»; Μου έδωσε την έξης απάντηση: «Πήρα την (τάδε, μια γυναίκα πού ήταν στην παρέα μας) και την παρουσίασα στον Κύριο».
Κάποια φορά αντιμετώπισα ένα μεγάλο πρόβλημα. Έμεινα για έξι μήνες στο κρεββάτι με δυνατούς πόνους στην μέση μου. Δεν μπορούσα να κουνηθώ και πήγαινα από γιατρό σε γιατρό, αλλά η κατάσταση μου χειροτέρευε. Μια μέρα η θεια Λαμπρινή με επισκέφθηκε στο σπίτι μου.
«Μην ανησυχείς», μου είπε, «σε λίγο καιρό θα είσαι τελείως καλά». Την ίδια μέρα με πληροφόρησε κάποια γνωστή μου ότι η θεια Λαμπρινή πριν έρθει στο σπίτι μου πήγε στην Εκκλησία του χωριού μου, και γονατιστή για πολλή ώρα προσευχόταν μπροστά στην εικόνα της Κοιμήσεως της Παναγίας, που είναι αφιερωμένη η Εκκλησία. Σε λίγες μέρες με την βοήθεια κάποιου γιατρού περπατούσα κανονικά. Από τότε μέχρι σήμερα για 18 χρόνια δεν είχα την παραμικρή ενόχληση.
Και μετά την κοίμηση της σε δύσκολες στιγμές της ζωής μου την επικαλούμαι και πάντα με βοηθάει. Είχα ένα καλοκαίρι πονοκεφάλους και ζαλάδες που ίσως οφείλονταν στους καύσωνες.
Ξάπλωσα να κοιμηθώ, αφού πρώτα ζήτησα την βοήθεια της. Ήρθε στον ύπνο μου, στάθηκε από πάνω μου και με σκέπασε μ’ ένα σεντόνι. Το πρωί πού σηκώθηκα ήμουν υγιέστατη».
Η κυρία Μαρία Δραγατάκη από την Άρτα αναφέρει:
«Έμαθα πολλά κοντά στη γιαγιά Λαμπρινή πηγαίνοντας μαζί της στις αμέτρητες ολονυχτίες και στα προσκυνήματα πού οργάνωνε η ίδια. Με αποκαλούσε «παιδί μου» και η λέξη αυτή άγγιζε πραγματικά την ψυχή μου. Είχε υπομονή και άκουγε τα προβλήματα μου και πάντα εύρισκε λύσεις.
Η ζωή της ήταν αγία και ήταν πολύ ταπεινή. Τι να πρωτοθυμηθώ; Την βοήθεια της προς την μητέρα μου; Τις προβλέψεις και την προσευχή πού έκανε για τα παιδιά μου; Ή το μεγάλο καλό πού έκανε σε μένα; Όταν μετά από ένα βαρύ χειρουργείο έχασα τον ύπνο μου, νιώθοντας απελπισμένη και χαμένη, πήγα μεσάνυχτα στο σπίτι της, ζητώντας βοήθεια και την βρήκα στα γόνατα να προσεύχεται λουσμένη στον ιδρώτα και γύρω της αναμμένα καντήλια και κεριά. Μου είπε: «Παιδί μου, Τι έπαθες απόψε»; Σταυρώνοντάς με από τότε ηρέμησα. Να είναι καλά εκεί πού βρίσκεται η γιαγιά Λαμπρινή και να πρεσβεύει για όλους μας».
Ο Α. Γ. αναφέρει:
«Γνώριζα την γιαγιά Λαμπρινή από μικρός, γιατί ερχόταν στο σπίτι μας και έβλεπε την κατάκοιτη γιαγιά μου, αλλά την θεωρούσα μια αγράμματη γιαγιά. Άκουσα άλλους να μιλούν με ευλάβεια γι’ αυτήν και όταν γύρισα από το πρώτο προσκύνημα μου στο Άγιον Όρος το 2002, πήγα να την δω και να της δώσω μια ευλογία. Μπαίνοντας στο κελλάκι της ένιωσα σαν να βρίσκομαι μπροστά σ' ένα γίγαντα. Συνειδητοποίησα τότε, χωρίς να ξέρω πώς, ότι αυτή η γυναίκα ήταν πολύ ψηλά πνευματικά, τόσο πού δεν μπορούσα να την ατενίσω, αν και σωματικά ήταν μικροκαμωμένη.
Η συζήτηση μαζί της ήταν μια πνευματική πανδαισία. Τότε κυριαρχούσε το θέμα των ταυτοτήτων που με απασχολούσε έντονα. Η πρώτη κουβέντα που μου είπε, χωρίς να αναφέρω κάτι σχετικό, ήταν: «Δεν πρέπει να πάρουμε τις ταυτότητες με το χάραγμα...»
Στις επόμενες επισκέψεις μου μέχρι την κοίμησή της διαπίστωσα ότι είχε το προορατικό και διορατικό χάρισμα.
Μου ανέφερε γεγονότα άγνωστα σύμφωνα με την ανθρώπινη λογική, άλλοτε γεγονότα που αφορούσαν το μέλλον μου και έγιναν, και άλλα για γενικότερα θέματα. Ορισμένες δε φορές ενώ είχα στο νου μου να θέσω μια ερώτηση η μου γεννιόταν μια απορία σε συζήτηση παρουσία και άλλων ανθρώπων, αυτή σταματούσε την συζήτηση, απαντούσε στην ερώτηση που σκεφτόμουν και συνέχιζε την συζήτηση.
Τον Μάϊο του 2002 πού την είδα μου είπε ότι σε λίγους μήνες θα φύγει. Αλλά όταν με είδε πως στενοχωρήθηκα πολύ, είπε: «Ε, έτσι το λέω, μήνες – χρόνια». Αλλά κοιμήθηκε πράγματι σε λίγους μήνες, τον Οκτώβριο του 2002 και πορεύθηκε η ψυχή της στον Κύριο που τόσο πόθησε από μικρή».
Την τελευταία Κυριακή που πήγε στην Εκκλησία κοινώνησε και διάβασε την Ευχαριστία στο σπίτι της. Την Δευτέρα άπλωσε όλα τα βιβλία στο κρεββάτι της, διάβαζε από το καθένα λίγο, το σταύρωνε, το ασπαζόταν και το άφηνε στην άκρη. Τρόπον τινά τα αποχαιρετούσε, γιατί τόσα χρόνια αυτά ήταν η καλύτερη συντροφιά της. Την Τρίτη το απόγευμα κάλεσε την κόρη της να κάνουν Παράκληση. Τελειώνοντας είπε: «Σ’ ευχαριστώ, Παναγία μου, πού μου έδωσες να κάνω κι αυτή την Παράκληση. Γιατί μέχρι την Πέμπτη έχω πολλές προσευχές να κάνω ακόμη».
Στην ερώτηση της κόρης της τι θα κάνει την Πέμπτη, απάντησε: «Θα πάω για εκεί πού εργάστηκα, αν εργάστηκα καλά...»
Την Τετάρτη το πρωί ζήτησε να δη τα εγγόνια της. «Αύριο θα φύγω», είπε.
Το βράδυ είπε σε μια ανιψιά της: «Τώρα εγώ θα φύγω. Να πας να το πεις εσύ στην Σταθούλα, να μην της κακοφανεί. Παρακαλούσα τον Θεό να με αφήσει να ζήσω, μέχρι να ωριμάσει η Σταθούλα και να καταλάβει τι είναι η άλλη ζωή».
Κάποια στιγμή ανασηκώθηκε στο κρεββάτι, άνοιξε τα χέρια της και είπε στους
παρευρισκομένους: «Ελατέ τώρα, όλοι μαζί, να πάμε στα Ιεροσόλυμα».
Τους αγκάλιασε όλους, μετά σταύρωσε το στήθος της, το προσκέφαλο και ξάπλωσε. Τότε η Σταθούλα έβγαλε τους άλλους έξω και μαζί με τον σύζυγο της άναψαν κεράκι και διάβασαν τις προσευχές, όπως ακριβώς της είχε αφήσει εντολή να κάνει η μητέρα της Λαμπρινή. Όταν τελείωσαν τις προσευχές άκουσαν ένα ελαφρύ σσσσς και η Λαμπρινή Βέτσιου ξεψύχησε σαν πουλάκι, στις 17 'Οκτωβρίου 2002, ημέρα Πέμπτη.
Στον τάφο της περνούν και προσκυνούν πολλοί άνθρωποι. Προσεύχονται και αντλούν δύναμη. Κάποια που όσο ζούσε η Λαμπρινή την συμβουλευόταν, ήταν πολύ στενοχωρημένη, γιατί ο σύζυγός της θα έκανε σοβαρή εγχείρηση καρδιάς. Αφού προσκύνησαν τον τάφο της και προσευχήθηκαν, είδε στον ύπνο της την γιαγιά Λαμπρινή που της είπε:
«Μην στενοχωριέσαι. Ο άνδρας σου θα γίνει καλά. Μόνο πριν πας στο νοσοκομείο, θα φτιάξεις πρόσφορο και θα το πας στην Εκκλησία. Πράγματι έκανε το πρόσφορο και όλα πήγαν καλά.
Αυτή ήταν η Λαμπρινή Βέτσιου. Ασκήτρια με μεγάλες νηστείες, με καθημερινές αγρυπνίες, με συνεχή μελέτη και προσευχή. Αγαπούσε τον Χριστό, μιλούσε συνέχεια γι' Αυτόν και όλα τα κύτταρα του σώματος της ανέδιναν Χριστό. Βοηθούσε τους ανθρώπους με την χάρη πού είχε. Είδε απ' αυτή την ζωή τον Παράδεισο και την Κόλαση. Ενώ προσευχόταν ερχόταν ενίοτε ο Χριστός, η Παναγία και άλλοι Άγιοι και συνομιλούσαν.
Ήξερε τα μελλούμενα και έλεγε ότι μας περιμένουν πολύ δύσκολα χρόνια. Λυπόταν τα μικρά παιδιά και έλεγε: «Αν ήξεραν τι θα περάσουν»!. Αλλά αμέσως συμπλήρωνε:
«Έχει ο Θεός.Θα οικονομήσει για τους Χριστιανούς».
Περισσότερα, έλεγε, δεν την άφηνε ο Χριστός να ειπεί ...
Αιωνία άς είναι η μνήμη της...
+ + + + + + +
Από το βιβλίο «Ασκητές μέσα στον κόσμο», η 19η διήγηση.
Κεντρική διάθεση βιβλίου: Ιερόν Ησυχαστήριον «Άγιος Ιωάννης ο Πρόδρομος», Μεταμόρφωσις Χαλκιδικής.
A young and successful executive was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick smashed into the Jag's side door! He slammed on the brakes and drove the Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown. The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car, shouting, "What was that all about and who are you?
Just what the heck are you doing?
That's a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money.
Why did you do it?"
The young boy was apologetic. "Please mister ... please, I'm sorry... I didn't know what else to do," he pleaded.
"I threw the brick because no one else would stop..."
With tears dripping down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car.
"It's my brother," he said.
"He rolled off the curb and fell out of his wheelchair and I can't lift him up."
Now sobbing, the boy asked the stunned executive, "Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He's hurt and he's too heavy for me."
Moved beyond words, the driver tried to swallow the rapidly swelling lump in his throat. He hurriedly lifted the handicapped boy back into the wheelchair, then took out his fancy handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh scrapes and cuts. A quick look told him everything was going to be okay.
"Thank you and may God bless you," the grateful child told the stranger.
Too shook up for words, the man simply watched the little boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home. It was a long, slow walk back to the Jaguar. The damage was very noticeable, but the driver never bothered to repair the dented side door. He kept the dent there to remind him of this message: Don't go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!
God whispers in our souls and speaks to our hearts. Sometimes when we don't have time to listen, He has to throw a brick at us.
It's our choice: Listen to the whisper ... or wait for the brick!
Ήταν κάποτε ένας νέος που δεν ήταν ποτέ ευχαριστημένος κι όλο παραπονιόταν για τις δυσκολίες που είχε στη ζωή του, τον Σταυρό δηλαδή που κουβαλούσε. Ο φύλακας Άγγελός του τον άκουγε στωικά, ώσπου μια μέρα άκουσε το παρόπονό του και του είπε:
- «Αφού ο Σταυρός που κουβαλάς σου φαίνεται ότι είναι δυσβάσταχτος και δεν είναι της αρεσκείας σου, διάλεξε άλλο Σταυρό, όποιον θέλεις». Και έφερε τον νέο σε μια πεδιάδα γεμάτη από Σταυρούς κάθε είδους και κάθε μεγέθους.
Ο νέος έτρεξε εδώ, έτρεξε εκεί, είδε πολλούς Σταυρούς και στο τέλος πλησίασε έναν ο οποίος ήταν στολισμένος με χρυσό και διαμάντια.
- «Είναι ο Σταυρός ενός πλούσιου, πάρτον αν θέλεις» είπε ο Άγγελος.
Ο νέος προσπάθησε να τον βγάλει από το έδαφος που ήταν καρφωμένος, αλλά δεν μπορούσε. Δοκίμασε πάλι και πάλι, αλλά δεν κατόρθωνε να τον κινήσει ούτε χιλιοστό. Τόσο βαρύς ήταν. Έτσι εγκατέλειψε την προσπάθεια. Προχώρησε πιο πέρα κι εκεί είδε έναν άλλο Σταυρό, αργυρό και αστραφτερό.
- «Αγαπητέ Άγγελε, επιθυμώ να έχω αυτόν το Σταυρό», φώναξε ο νέος και τον πήρε. Όμως, τα αιχμηρά άκρα του Σταυρού εκείνου έγδερναν τους ώμους του νέου κι έτσι μετά από λίγο τον άφησε. Δοκίμασε κι άλλους κι άλλους Σταυρούς, μα κανένας δεν του έκανε. Άλλοι ήταν μεγάλοι, άλλοι δυσανάλογοι, άλλο αιχμηροί. Απογοητευμένος, τότε ο νέος, γύρισε στον Άγγελό του και του είπε:
- «Δε θα με βοηθήσεις; Βλέπεις ότι κανείς από αυτούς τους Σταυρούς δεν είναι για μένα κι έχω εξαντληθεί και δεν μπορώ να ψάξω άλλο».
Στην άρνηση του Αγγέλου, ο νέος έστρεψε το κεφάλι του και τα μάτια του αντίκρισαν ένα μικρό ξύλινο Σταυρό. Ο νέος τότε τον άρπαξε και καθώς ήταν ο ελαφρύτερος από όσους είχε δοκιμάσει τον έβαλε στον ώμο του και αναφώνησε:
- «Βρήκα επιτέλους τον κατάλληλο Σταυρό κι αυτόν θέλω να πάρω».
Τότε ο Άγγελος του είπε:
- «Τέκνον μου, πάρε αυτόν τον Σταυρό, γιατί αυτός είναι ο καταλληλότερος για εσένα. Εκείνος ο Οποίος τον διάλεξε για σένα γνωρίζει καλά. Είναι ο Σταυρός τον οποίο κουβαλούσες μέχρι τώρα, παρά τα τόσα παράπονα και τις διαμαρτυρίες σου. Παρά την λίγη σου γενναιότητα και εμπιστοσύνη στο Πρόσωπό Του. Πάρτον και πάλι, αλλά αυτή τη φορά με ευγνωμοσύνη και αγάπη και κουβάλησέ τον μέχρι τέλους, γιατί αυτός ο Σταυρός είναι ο ίδιος που είχες εξαρχής και αυτός θα σε οδηγήσει ασφαλώς εκεί που πρέπει»!
Μπορεί να είναι πάθος ανησυχίας ή αφορμή μαθήσεως. Υπάρχει ανώφελη και κουραστική περιέργεια. Δεν είναι φρόνιμο να μας αφορούν τα πάντα.
Η συνεχής φιλοπερίεργη διάθεση δεν ωφελεί πάντοτε τον άνθρωπο. Πολλές φορές τον δυσκολεύει και τον ταλαιπωρεί. Από την περιέργεια μπορεί να έρχεται η κατάκριση. Μην είμαστε υπερβολικά αυστηροί με τους άλλους. Μη τους βάζουμε εύκολα στον παράδεισο ή στην κόλαση. Δεν είμαστε οι έξυπνοι και εύστοχοι κριτές.
Δεν ωφελούν λεπτομέρειες της ζωής των άλλων. Το χρέος μας είναι να διδαχθούμε σωστά αυτά που θα ωφελήσουν προσωπικά. Η ανθρώπινη γνώση είναι περιορισμένη. Ας μην απλώνεται παντού. Οι φιλοπερίεργοι θα αστοχήσουν. Η περιέργεια ρυπαίνει την καρδιά και την απομυζά, την ανησυχεί και την ταράζει. Ο περίεργος είναι παράλογος και άχαρος, συχνά αποδοκιμάζεται και απομονώνεται. Οι περίεργοι ασχολούνται πιο πολύ με τους άλλους και αφήνουν τον εαυτό τους στα αζήτητα. Δικαιολογούνται και προφασίζονται για τη στάση τους. Δικάζουν και καταδικάζουν για να ξεχωρίζουν και να επαίρονται. Η περιέργεια δεν αφήνει ποτέ τον άνθρωπο να ειρηνεύει.
Δικαιολογούμε τον εαυτό μας ότι τάχα το κάνουμε από αγάπη και προς διόρθωση του άλλου. Από την περιέργεια έρχεται η κατάκριση.
Αν κάποτε χρειαστεί να παρατηρηθεί δεν γίνεται προς εξουθένωσή του κι εξευτελισμό του. Να μην εκθέτεις τον άλλο αλλά να τον συμβουλεύεις. Να μην είσαι σκληρός και αυστηρός, αλλά επιεικής, ανεκτικός και καλοκάγαθος. Το να σχολιάζουμε συνεχώς τους άλλους δεν είναι καλό. Μπαίνουμε στο πολυμέριμνο κι αφήνουμε την απαραίτητη ενασχόληση με την καρδιά μας. Ας γίνουμε καλύτεροι, πιο αυστηροί με τον εαυτό μας, τον αρκετά άγνωστο.
Υπάρχει και καλή περιέργεια, για μάθηση, για την πρόοδο των άλλων, για το καλό. Η περιέργεια για μάθηση δίνει καλά αποτελέσματα. Η διάθεση για γνώση της προόδου των άλλων δείχνει αγαθότητα. Το να μάθεις το καλό είναι ευχάριστο. Πάθος η περιέργεια ενοχλητικό.
Πολλά κι άχαρα τα διάφορα πάθη. Βασανίζουν και ταλαιπωρούν και σκοτίζουν. Η απάθεια, η απεριέργεια, είναι κόσμημα πολύτιμο. Οι άνθρωποι σήμερα είναι πολύ περίεργοι. Συνεχώς αρέσκονται να ασχολούνται με τους άλλους. Είναι καιρός να ασχοληθούν με τον εαυτό τους. Δεν τοποθετήθηκαν κριτές των άλλων, αλλά του εαυτού τους. Η περιέργεια ξεμακραίνει από την ουσία, δημιουργεί λαβύρινθο σκέψεων, φέρνει μύχιες άσκοπες σκέψεις. Ας μάθουμε το απερίεργο, για να ησυχάζουμε ώστε να είμαστε νηφάλιοι και ησύχιοι. Δεν είναι έτσι;
Μοναχός Μωυσής, Αγιορείτης
http://agioritikesmnimes.blogspot.ca/
An icon is an image, but an image which is meant to be a statement of faith. It is a statement of faith in line and colour as definite, as completely rooted in the faith and experience of the Orthodox Church as any written statement and in that respect icons must correspond to the experience of the total community, and the artist who paints them is only a hand, only one who puts into line and colour what is the faith and the knowledge of the Christian body in the same way in which a theologian is the expression of his Church, and the Church has a right to judge him. That explains why one of the rules given to icon-painters when they learn their trade is that they should neither copy slavishly an icon painted before them, nor invent an icon. Because one can not identify slavishly with the spiritual experience expressed by another person, on the other hand, one cannot invent a spiritual experience and present it as though it was the faith of the Church.
Now, an icon is a proclamation of faith primarily, in the sense that an icon of Christ, an icon of the Mother of God or of saints is possible only since the Incarnation because they all relate to the Incarnation and its consequences. The Old Testament taught us that God can not be represented because indeed, the God of the Old Testament was the Holy One of Israel, He was a spiritual Being that has revealed Himself but had never been visibly present face to face with anyone. You remember the story of Moses on Sinai when he asked God to allow him to see Him and the Lord answered, “No man can see My face and live.” And He allowed Moses to see Him moving away from him, as it were, from the back but never meet Him face to face. It is in Incarnation, through the historical fact that God became man, that God acquired a human face and that it became possible by representing Christ, the incarnate God to represent indirectly God Himself.
Now, there is one thing which is absolutely clear to all of us is that no-one knows what Christ looked like. So an icon is never meant to be a portrait, it is meant to convey an experience and this is different. The difference between, perhaps I should have used the word “snapshot” rather than “portrait”, any attempt at saying, “this is what Christ looked like” is fantasy. We have no likeness of Christ, but what we know is that from the experience of the Church and of the saints, Who He was and this “Who He was” can be expressed in line and in colour. And this is why so many icons do not aim at beauty, at comeliness, we do not try to represent Christ in the Orthodox tradition as the most beautiful, virile man whom we can imagine. We do not try to represent the Mother of God as the most comely and attractive young woman, what we try to represent or to convey through the icon is something about their inner self.
And this explains why certain features in an icon are underlined out of proportion while other features are just indicated. If you look at an icon, a good icon, not the kind of thing which you find commonly, say in Russian or in Greek churches, but icons painted by the great painters of Orthodoxy, you find that certain things are singled out — the brow, the eyes that convey a message, while the cheeks or the mouth are just indicated as common features. And the aim of an icon is not to present you with a likeness of the person but with the message, to present you with a face that speaks to you in the same way in which a portrait is different from a snapshot. A snapshot is a very adequate image of the person photographed at a given moment. It’s exactly what at that given moment the person was, but it leaves out very often most of the personality of this particular person, while a good portrait is painted in the course of many sittings that allow the artist to look deeply into the face of a person, to single out features, which are fluid, which change, which move but which, each of them, express something of the personality. And so that the portrait is something much more composite, much more rich and much more adequate to the total personality than a snapshot would be although at no moment was this particular face exactly as the painter has represented it on the portrait. It is not an attempt at having a snapshot in colour but of conveying a vision of what a person is.
Now, this being said, we treat icons with reverence, and number of people in the West think that to us icons are very much what idols were in older times for pagan nations. They aren’t. They are not idols because they do not purport or even attempt at giving an adequate picture of the person concerned. This I have already mentioned abundantly but I will add this. Whether it is in words, in theological statements, in doctrinal statements, in the creeds, in the prayers and the hymns of the Churches, no attempt is ever made in the Orthodox Church at expressing, at giving a cogent, a complete image of what God is. Already in the IV century St. Gregory of Nazianze wrote that if we attempted to collect from the Old Testament, from the New Testament, from the experience of the Church, from the personal lives of saints their sayings and their writings, all the features which reveal to us what and who God is and try to build out of them a completely coherent, a complete picture of God, what we would have achieved is not a picture of God, it would be an idol because it would be on our scale, it would be as small as we are indeed, smaller than we are because it could be contained in our vision, in our understanding.
If we want to understand what a theological statement is — and that applies not only to written statements but also to icons, I should think the nearest approximation would be to say that theological statement either in words or in lines, or colours, or indeed in music, or in the pageant which the liturgical service is, is very much like the sky at night. What is characteristic of the sky at night is that we see against the darkness of the sky, the translucent darkness of the sky, we see stars, which are combined in constellations. These stars are points of light and these constellations are recognisable, so that by looking at the sky at night we can find our way on earth; but what is important in the sky at night is all these stars are separate from one another by vast spaces. If you collected all the stars in one place, you would indeed have in front of you a glowing mass of fire but you would have no pointer to any direction, you would be unable to find your way not only in heaven but also on earth. What is important is the vastness between the stars and so are also the statements which are being made theologically, again in word or in line, in colour. They give us a glimpse and they leave a vast space into which we must penetrate in silence, in veneration. And the silence and veneration which is paid to them, I think, can be well expressed by the word “mystery”.
I know that in colloquial language “mystery” is something mysterious, something which is secrete, hidden and should be unveiled and seen through. The Greek word “mystery” comes from a verb “muen”, which means “to be spell-bound”, to be held absolutely mute in silence because of the deep impression something makes on us. It has given the French word “muet” which means “dumb”. Confronted with the overwhelming sense of the divine presence all we can do is to bow down in adoration. We are silenced in mind, in emotion, we become totally receptive and not passive but actively receptive. If I was to give an image, I would say our attitude at those moments is that of the bird-watcher. You know what happens to the bird-watcher. He gets up early in the morning before the birds are awake, goes into the wood, goes into the field, settles down and then he remains intensely alert at the same time as he is totally immobile because if he budges, he moves, if he doesn’t become part of the background, the birds will have disappeared long before he has noticed them. And so the attitude of the bird-watcher is this intense alertness that combines a total liveliness with a total stillness. This is what one could call the attitude of a believer has with regard to the mystery of God and also with regard to any statement, any expression that conveys God or things divine to us. We look at things in silence in order to receive a message and the deeper the silence, the more perfect the silence, the more completely and perfectly the message can reach us.
Obviously, when we look at an icon, we may discover that it has got features, which we apprehend or analyse intellectually. When it is a face, the impact may be more direct but when it is a scene, like an icon of Christmas, an icon of the entry of Christ into Jerusalem, an icon of the Crucifixion, there are features, which we can examine with our eyes and take in with our mind, but once it is done, we are confronted with something which is an object of contemplation. And I’ll give you an example or two.
The first example I wish to give you is an icon of the Mother of God which probably no-one of you has seen. It is in the South of Russia, there are very few reproductions because it is not considered as being one of the great and beautiful and classical icons of Orthodox Christendom. What it represents is – against a darkish background, the face of what I would call a peasant young Woman, square face with a parting in the middle, her hair falling on her shoulders, without a veil and looking straight not at you, as most icons do, but simply straight ahead into the vastness, into eternity, into infinity, — you must find out into what. And then the second thing you notice is that in front of Her chest there are two hands in agony clasped in pain and anguish. And when you ask yourself, why is this young Woman dishevelled, why has She lost her veil, why is Her hair falling like this? Why is this fixed gaze and this agonised hands? And you look at the icon, you see in a corner of this icon painted in very pale yellow colour the Cross, a Cross without a body. It is the Mother of God who is confronted with the death of Christ, not the dying, not the mystery of Her own offering of Her Son to God and to men but of His being dead, of the seeming defeat, of the end of all Her hopes, of the serene pain of Her heart.
This is one example, but once you have analysed these elements, looked at the face, asked yourself, what do these eyes see and seen it in the corner of the icon what do these hands speak about and understood, then you are confronted with the same thing, which confronts the Mother, – with the Crucifixion, with the love of God revealed as life and death, with the love of God, which says to us, “What you, — each of us singly, not the collectivity of mankind, each of us singly — means to Me can be measured by all the life and all the death of the Only-Begotten Son of God become man through the Incarnation born of the Virgin, crucified on Calvary after the tragic week of the passion.” So at that moment the icon is no longer a story, it is a direct challenge, a confrontation with an event to which we can respond by adoration, by conversion, by a change in us, by prayer in the vastest possible sense of this word. Not by repeating words of prayer, not by doing what a boy of our congregation, when he was seven, said to his mother, “Now that we have finished prayering, could we pray a little?” — which mean:, now that we have said all these words which are written in the book, which I can’t read yet but which you rehearse to me very evening, can’t I stay before God and tell Him that I am sorry for one thing or another, that I love Him, that I am happy and then say “Good night” and send a kiss to the icon which is too high for me to kiss...
The other example which I wanted to give is that of an icon of the Incarnation, a Christmas icon — a mountain, a cave, in one corner the Angels singing to the shepherds, on the other hand, the three kings travelling, in another corner Joseph sitting and being tempted by Satan who whispers to him that there is there something quite wrong in the whole situation, and then the Mother of God and the Child. But this icon, of which I am thinking in particular, does not show us the Child in the manger. It’s not the classical half emotional picture, which we see so often. Instead of the manger there is in pink stone an altar of sacrifice and the Child lying on it. And this icon is a theological statement not only about the Incarnation as the divine act that made God immanent in the world that the world may be saved, it speaks to us of the fact that the Son of God became Son of man in order to die, that His birth was the beginning of entering a world of suffering, of pain, of rejection and of death. And once we have discovered that the mountain matters nothing, that the shepherds and the kings, that Joseph and his tempter are features of the past that has simply brought the message to us, we are confronted with the central event – God has become man and by becoming man He has accepted to become helpless, vulnerable and enter into the realm of suffering and death. And then we are confronted with a God Whom we can worship in a new way, not a God Whom we worship in the great cathedrals because of the unsurpassed beauty He represents, not the All-Mighty one but the God Who has chosen to become one of us, frail, unprotected, helpless, given to us, and we see what mankind has done to this God, who had taken full responsibility for His creative act by dying of it and of its consequences.
So this leads me to the last point, which is obviously very short. Confronted with an icon, we receive a message and this message is always exactly as a passage of the Gospel is or a prayer written by a saint is, is a challenge for us – how do you respond to what you see, what do you do? Who are you in relation to this event, to this person, to this face, to this particular experience of the Church of God, of the Mother of God, of the saints of God, of the martyrs, of the Apostles and so forth. And this is the beginning of an act of prayer. Now, we treat icons with veneration not because they are beautiful and not even because they convey an essential message but because somehow we are aware of the fact that they are connected with the person represented on them and the event. I will give you one more of those flat analogies which are natural to me.
We don’t treat an icon as an idol but we treat it exactly in the way in which you would treat the photograph of someone whom you love dearly. It may be your departed parents, it may be your parents alive, it may be the girl or the boy whom you love with all your heart. You look at these photographs and you do not imagine that they are the person, you do not worship them but there are things which you would do and things which you would not do to them. If you have the photograph of someone whom you love with your whole heart alive or departed, you will not simply take your teacup and plant it on top of it because it is the best way of protecting the table. And you will be probably foolish enough at a moment when there is no-one who looks at you to take the photograph and give it a kiss. Well, it’s exactly what we do about icons. We give them a kiss, we are less shy and we do it publicly, but we do it because they are the only way in which we can kiss the person who is absent in a way, who is present in spirit, yes, whose image is there being like a window, like a link, like a connection with this person.
And our praying to icons is not praying to the wood or to the paint or even to the scene or the face represented. All these things become transparent in the way in which the photograph is transparent to us because it is the person whom we perceive, whom we see, whom we love, whom we treat with tenderness and reverence when we hold a photograph of a beloved person. And our praying to the icon is a praying that reaches through the icon. It may be a help to us because it is not everyone of us who is capable of shutting his eyes, abstracting himself or herself from all surrounding and feeling that he is or she is in the presence of God, and there is nothing between God and him, there is nothing that he needs to connect him with God. But ultimately we must come to the point when having looked at an icon, receive its message, received indeed its challenge, its call, we must be able to shut our eyes and be in the presence of God Himself and the saint who is represented in it. And this is what St. John Chrysostom says in one of his sermons. He says to us, “If you want to pray, take your stand in front of your icons, then shut your eyes and pray.”
Apparently, what’s the point of having icons if you shut your eyes and don’t look at them? The point is that you have taken one look and this look must have awoken you, you must have had one look and be alive to all the message and all the challenge that it has and now you must be free from the particular elements of this icon and be able to pray, to sing to God.
And I will end by an example, by an image, which is not properly of an icon but which convey to you probably better than I can this idea of our whole self beginning to sing and to respond. I was nineteen then. and I was reading together with an old deacon in one of the small churches in Paris. He was very old, he had lost all his teeth with age and the result was that when he read and sang, it was not as clear as one might have hoped for, and to add insult to injury, he read and sang with a velocity that defeated me, my eyes could not follow the lines. And when we finished the service, being as arrogant as one may be, some may be at nineteen, I said to him, “Fr. Evfimiy, you have robbed me of all the service with your reading and singing so fast. And what is worse, you have robbed yourself of it, I am sure, because I am sure, you couldn’t understand a word of what you were saying.” And so the old man looked at me (I don’t know why but he liked me) and he said to me, “O, I am so sorry, but you know, I was born in a very-very poor family in a very poor village of Russia, my parents were not in a position to keep me because they were too poor to feed me, so they gave away at the age of seven to a neighbouring monastery where they fed me, they gave me education, they taught me to read and to sing, and I never left the monastery until the revolution. And I have been reading these words and singing these words day in, day out, day in, day out for all my life. And now, you know what happens? When I see words, it is as though a hand was touching a string in my soul, and my soul begins to sing as though I was a harp, which is being touched by a hand. I don’t cling to the word. You still need it, but for me seeing it or seeing the notes is enough. I begin to sing with all my being.”
Well, this is what we should become when we can look at an icon and immediately receive the impact of it, so that our whole being begins to sing and sing and sing to God in whatever tune. It may be repentance, it may be joy, it may be gratitude, it may be intercession, it does not mean anything, what means something, which is essential is that we should sing to God as a harp sings under the hand that has touched it.
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.
I should like to begin with a short reading from the book of Revelation, chapters 21 and 22: «I heard a great voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be with them; He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying, nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.' And He who sat upon the throne said, 'Behold, I make all things new.' Also He said, 'Write this, for these words are truthworthy and true... He who conquers shall have this heritage, and I will be his God and he shall be my son...' 'I, Jesus, have sent my angel to you with this testimony for the churches. I am the root and the offspring of David, the bright morning star.' The Spirit and the Bride say, 'Come'. And let him who hears say 'Come'. And let him who is thirsty come, let him who desires take the water of life without price. ... He who testifies to these things says, 'Surely, I am coming soon.' Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints. Amen».
This is the great expectation, but this is not only expectation. The Kingdom of God which is to come has also come with power. He has come in many places, into many hearts, into many families, in an almost unnoticeable way, surreptitiously, like a thief at the dead of night. The Kingdom has come into human relationships with a new recognition of men, with a new dimension of love, the sacrificial love of the living God. So the Kingdom is within us, and the Kingdom is in our midst. All things are on their way into our hearts, into our minds, into our lives, into our will, conquering everything in us. So embodied God is at work. He conquers, and He shall conquer.
But if we are His own people, if we are the people of God, we are called not only to be the objects of salvation, not only to be the recipients of grace, not only to be conquered, but we have the privilege of being the elect of God, the chosen of God who may serve His purpose. We are the people of God whom He can trust because we know Him, because we worship Him in reverence and in faithfulness, to whom He can say «Go» and who shall go; «Die», and who shall die; «Live», and who shall live.
And at the heart of this mission of ours there are words which we have heard twice in the course of this week at two eucharistic celebrations: «Do this in remembrance of me». And doing this in the context of our Sacred Liturgies, in the dividedness of the historical Christendom, we have been painfully aware of separation while we were amazingly aware of closeness. Is there a point where within these very words, «Do this in remembrance of me», we can be even closer than we imagine, even if we do not break the bread together nor share the same cup? May I venture to say that I believe we are a great deal closer than we imagine.
When we apply these words to the bread broken and to the cup shared, we think in liturgical terms; and we forget that at the Last Supper these words and this gesture stood for more than an act of fellowship, more than for a ritual. The bread broken was an image of the Body of Christ broken for the salvation of the world. The cup shared was an image of the Blood of Christ spent for the life of the world. Both stood for divine love that has become incarnate in order to participate in all the tragedy of mankind in an act of perfect and crucifying solidarity that mankind may be saved. And this means all men, beginning with the faithful, as St. Paul says.
Beyond the boundaries of the liturgical action there is the existential doing, all the things for which the breaking of bread and the sharing of the cup stand. They stand for the act of Incarnation in which God unites Himself to man, and indeed to the whole cosmos, taking upon Himself all the destiny of mankind, identifying Himself not only with His creature but with His fallen creature, and all the conditions of man, not only to the point of life and preaching and ministering, not only to the point of physical death but to the point of sharing with men the only basic tragedy of mankind: the loss of God - «My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?» - that loss of God which is the beginning of mortality, that loss of God that kills and that killed. The Son of God became the Son of Man in His humanity. They stand for that solidarity of God with us which is expressed in the anguish of the Garden of Gethsemane when Christ was facing death - a death which had nothing to do with Him because He was life, a death which could not be inflicted on Him because He says Himself that the prince of this world will find nothing in Him that belongs to him, a death which was a free gift of His life, a death which is all death accepted and shared by Him who could not die. They stand for the Crucifixion, the physical experience of the immortal sharing the death of His creature, of Him who was the Son of God, in an act of incredible solidarity, losing the sense of His oneness with the Father and dying of it. That is what this breaking of the bread and this sharing of the cup stand for.
This, indeed, we can do in remembrance of Him together, without any separateness, in the historical Christian body. This we can do; we can be incarnate, take on the flesh of this tragic world upon us, and carry its sin as a cross. We can identify with the death of the dying and the suffering of the sufferer, as Christ on the Mount of Olives facing an alien death in His own flesh in an act of compassion in the strongest sense of the word, of solidarity that goes to the point of identification and substitution. We can face together living and dying - dying physically, dying in health but also dying in that act of love which is a final, total, ultimate renunciation to all that is for the sake of the other.
And we hear the word addressed to us: «Do this in remembrance of me.» Even if we cannot share liturgically the bread and the wine, we can share fully and completely what it stands for and be inseparable in the mystery of faith. The Lamb of God is broken and distributed, which though ever broken, never is divided, says the Orthodox liturgy. This we can achieve beyond all separations through such union, oneness with Christ, in one body broken, in one blood shed for the salvation of the world.
How wonderful it is to discover this! And this is truly and actually a liturgical action because the priest is defined by the offering he brings, and all universal priesthood is defined by the offering we bring of our souls and our bodies, of ourselves and our lives, of those whom we love - to be an act comparable and identifiable, indeed, with this act of divine incarnation, of divine life, of divine sacrifice. Sacrifice means both shedding of blood and becoming wholly God's own, sharing His life because we will have shared His death in our hearts, in our bodies.
So let us both grieve at the fact that our unity cannot be expressed to the full because we are not yet mature in love, we are not mature in understanding. But let us rejoice and thank God that we cannot be separated either from Him or from one another in the mystery which is defined by these wholly tragic and victorious conquering liturgical words, «Do this in remembrance of me».
Let us pray.
Oh Christ, who didst bind Thy Apostles in a union of love, unite us likewise, Thy sinful but trusting servants, and bind us forever to thee and to one another. Give us bearing and strength to fulfil Thy commandments and truly to love one another. Oh Christ, our God, through the Father and the Holy Spirit, who livest and reignest, one God, world without end. Amen.
