Silence for the monks is a rule of life. It protects them from uncontrollable and unrestrained talk as well as from impugnation and slander, which result in the death of the soul. It delivers them from wrangle and strife and preserves in them internal peace which is necessary for inwardness. Silence is the fruit of quietude, an internal state which gives birth to spiritual discourse.
-When does the monk ought to keep quiet and when does he ought to talk?
Abbot Pimen offers a solution to the issue with great discernment: “A brother asked Abbot Pimen saying: ‘which is best: to talk or to keep quiet?’And the Elder tells him: ‘Whoever talks for the sake of God, does well. Whoever keeps quiet for the sake of God, does equally well’”.
Silence is not the goal but the means. One uses it either to approach God or to talk about Him.
The Elders, those old warriors and much experienced strugglers in the spiritual arena, are forced to become spiritual teachers and coaches for those Christians who approach them either out of curiosity, or interest, or because of a deeper spiritual need. They fire at them demanding questions on serious and basic spiritual issues. “Father, tell me something. How can I be saved? Give me a word! What shall I do about my passions? Give me a command and I will obey! To what shall I adhere in order to please God?”
Often the Elders give a brief, general reply like an apothegm. Their words are not philosophical- i.e. the result of an intellectual process. They are ripe and full of pain, direct, forceful and without frills, which pierce the internal depths of the soul of the inquirer.
They use simple words, without adorned intellectual rhetoric; they reveal the hidden treasure of spiritual life and hand out messages which are always contemporary. Thus, they become beacons to those who are wrangling in the dark seas of confusion and delusion.
The Elders- humble, unknown and undetected ascetics- penetrate the souls of their interlocutors with discernment and their replies are in accordance to their real needs. The purpose of their talk is “such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear” (Ephesians 4, 29).
They avoid replying to inquiries if those who ask are able to see their deeds and their example. Once, when a brother asked Abbot Sisoeh: “Tell me something”, he replied: “Why do you force me to engage in idle talk? Do as you see.”
The words which come out of the Elders’ mouths are practical and have practical aims- to assist in the attainment of perfection and sanctification “in Christ”. They are words filled with love. As one may discern from the tradition of the Church, the Elders confess that “this give and take is a matter of love to me”. The practical implementation of the most crucial virtue, that of love, has created the term “act lovingly” («ποιείν αγάπην») for monasticism.
When Abbot Theodore of Thermis approached Abbot Pamvo to ask for counsel, he replied: “Go and show mercy to everyone, since mercy has found favor in the face of the Lord”.
In the first part of this book, our most holy Elder Joseph, moved by sheer love, has written the replies to the queries and worries posed by our cherished visitors. In the second part, which is titled “Philokaliko Apanthisma” we have translated into Modern Greek short excerpts from passages from the book of Philokalia and the Fathers of the Church, which are relevant to the questions posed.
We wish that this book assists those devout brothers, who are engaged in the spiritual struggle while still in the outside world, to accomplish sanctification without which “no one will see God”.
The Abbot of the Great and Holy Monastery of Vatopedi,
Archimandrite Efrem
Sunday of the Myrrh bearing women, 2003
*** Excerpts from the book ‘Discourse on Mount Athos’ by Elder Joseph of Vatopedi.
The Fathers say that half of spiritual life is to remain in the cell, and visiting the elders is the other half. This expression means that both inside the cell and outside the cell we must be equally heedful, and we must know why we should keep silence in the cell and why we should go to the fathers and brethren; for one who keeps sight of these aims strives to act as the Fathers teach. These aims are: when the monk remains in his cell he prays, studies the Holy Scriptures, he occupies himself with a little handiwork and according to his strength concerns himself with his thoughts. When he goes out somewhere he notices and examines his state of mind: does he receive benefit from meeting with the brethren or not? And can he return without harm to his cell? If he sees that he has suffered some harm, then he will thereby come to recognize his infirmity; he can see that he has not yet acquired anything from his hesychia, and, being humbled, he returns to his cell, repenting, weeping and praying to God over his infirmity. Thus he resumes abiding in his cell and being attentive to himself.
Later he goes out again to the company of people, and observes himself to see whether he is conquered by the same thing that conquered him before, or perhaps by something else. So he returns again to his cell and does the same thing: he weeps, repents, and entreats God over his infirmity; for the cell exalts, but people tempt. Therefore the Fathers spoke well when they said abiding in the cell is one-half and visiting others is the other half. So should you, brethren, know why you are leaving your cell when you go out to see each other. You should not go anywhere senselessly or without a purpose, for he who undertakes a journey without a purpose, according to the words of the Fathers, will labor in vain.
Thus every monk should unfailingly have an aim when he does something, and should know why he does it. What should be our aim in visiting each other? First of all we should visit each other out of love: for it is said, "Seeing your brother, you have seen the Lord your God." Secondly, in order to hear the word of God, for amongst a multitude of brethren, the word of God is always more readily apprehended; because often what one brother does not know another does know, and the first one asking him, might therefore learn it. Finally, one goes into the company of people in order to find out one's own state of soul, as I have said earlier. For example, if a monk goes, as often happens, to eat with others, he should take note and examine himself: when good food is offered, something he likes, can he refrain and not take it? Do he try not to offend his brother by not taking more than him, or, when something is offered which has been cut into pieces, does he try to take the larger piece and leave the smaller piece to the other? For it happens that one may not even be ashamed to stretch out his hand and give the smaller piece to his brother, taking the larger for himself. What difference can there be between the larger piece and the smaller? Is the difference great? And for such an insignificant thing one offends his brother and commits a sin.
He should also note whether he can refrain from many foods; and upon finding them, does he surrender himself to over-eating, as sometimes happens? He should also note whether he refrains from presumptuousness, or if he takes offense when he sees that another brother is preferred over him and treated with more solicitude. If he sees that someone is too free in manner or talks too much, or does something inappropriate, does he notice this and judge him? Or does he pay no attention to this and disregard it, observing rather the more reverent and zealous? Does he strive to emulate St. Anthony, who when visiting others would notice only what good qualities they possessed, and would emulate them and adopt their qualities as his own. From one he would borrow meekness, from another humility, from another silence, and thus he assimilated the virtues of each one of them. We should do the same, adopting this as our purpose for visiting others, and when we return to our cells we should test ourselves to see what has brought us benefit and what has brought us harm. And if we were preserved from some harm let us give thanks to God; but if we have sinned in any way let us repent, let us weep and lament over the state of our souls. For it is from our own disposition of soul that we receive harm or benefit, and no one else can harm us. If we are harmed, this harm comes, as I have said, from the state of our own souls; for from every thing that happens, as I constantly tell you, we can receive either benefit or harm, as we ourselves wish. I will give you an example so that you might see that this is true.
Let us suppose that a man is standing at night someplace on the street--not a monk, but some resident of the city. Three men pass him by. One sees him and thinks that he is waiting for someone with whom he will commit fornication; the second one thinks that he is a thief; and the third thinks that he has called upon a friend of his in a house nearby, and is waiting for him to go together to a local church and pray. So all three have seen one and the same man at one and the same place but these three men have not formed one and the same idea about him. One has thought one thing, the second another, the third something else; and it is apparent that each has done this in accordance with his own state. For just as bodies that are afflicted with black gall and bad fluids turn every food they take in into bad fluids, even though their food might be good, the cause lying not in the food but in the sickness, as I have said, of the body itself, which converts the food according to its own sickness. For also the soul that has bad tendencies is harmed by everything, however useful the thing is. Imagine a vessel with honey in it: if someone were to pour a bitter tincture into it, would this little amount not ruin all the honey in the vessel and make it bitter? It is the same with us: we mix in a little of our own bitterness and destroy our neighbor's goodness, viewing it through the state of our own soul, and perverting it according to our own immorality. A man with a good disposition is like a man with a healthy body. Even if he eats something harmful it is converted into beneficial fluids by his body's good state; the bad food does not harm him because, as I have said, the body is healthy and it assimilates the food according to its own good quality. The first turns even good food into evil fluids through his evil disposition, while the latter turns even bad things into good fluids through the good qualities of his body. I will give you an example so that you might understand this.
A viper has quite a healthy body, and his food consists of shells, date pits, acorns and leaves; nonetheless, since his body is healthy it converts even such foods into good fluids. So we also, if we have a good disposition and are in a good state of soul, can receive benefit from everything, as I have said before, even though this thing might not be quite beneficial in and of itself. And the Wise Solomon has well said, He who sees lightly will have great mercy (Wisdom 38:13), and in another place, For the ungodly and his ungodliness are both alike hateful unto God (Wis. 14:9).
I heard about a certain brother, that when he had come to one of the brethren and would see that the cell was unswept and disorderly, would say to himself, "Blessed is this brother because he has set aside all cares for everything earthly, and directs all his mind upwards, so that he does not even find time to put his cell in order." And when he would come to another and see that his cell was in good order, swept and tidy, then again he would say to himself, "How pure is the soul of this brother--his cell is clean, and the state of his cell is in accord with the state of his soul." Never did he say of anyone, "This brother is negligent, or this one is vainglorious," but according to his good outlook he received benefit from each one. May the Good God grant to us a good state of soul, so that we also might receive benefit from each person and never notice the faults of our neighbor. And if we, by the sinfulness characteristic of us, should notice or make suppositions about the faults of others, let us then immediately turn our thoughts into good thoughts. For if a man does not notice the faults of his neighbor, then with the help of God there is born in him a goodness which makes him pleasing to God. For to Him is due every glory, honor and worship unto the ages. Amen.
Abba Dorotheos
They surrender their lives to the “Geronta” or “Elder” or “Starets” trusting him to lead them to perfection and sanctification-”theosis”.
They always gaze toward the Cross of Christ seeking the strength and consolation of the Crucified and Risen Lord.
Through Prayer, Obedience and Humility they become “like Christ”. They crucify their flesh and their will so that they may transform themselves from fallen human beings to “transfigured children of God”.
As our two small buses rolled through the arid desert, my mind wondered “where on earth have they come to live?” Then, the oasis appeared suddenly ahead of us transforming the “coldness” of the land to a warm and welcoming embrace; I felt the heartbeat of the monastic prayer rising around me “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner,” and my heart was filled with joy of anticipation: What couldn’t come from five days in an Athonite-style monastery in the desert of Arizona? How will this experience affect us individually and as a group?
The buses drove into the dusty parking lot surrounded by ancient cactuses and “jumping joys” and stopped in front of the arched gateway that leads to the courtyard of the monastic settlement.
The group members quickly disembarked from the two buses and carried their luggage to the covered kiosk.
Sighing with relief (mission accomplished!), I deposited my things on the bench and took out my camera. The byzantine style church rising humbly into the crystal clear blue sky, while hiding shyly behind a mixture of desert and tropical trees and beautiful flowers, the black-clad monks coming up politely to offer us water and “loukoumi”, and the women of our group unrecognizable behind their head scarfs and long dresses, provided the backdrop of the setting that we were to become accustomed to for the next five days.
This was different, very different from whatever I had experienced in my last thirty years of traveling to monasteries. It was bound to be a unique experience.
A tall monk from Russia, in his early thirties (speaking fluent Greek)) showed us to our rooms. The women had to walk all the way to the outskirts of the desert settlement to two brand-new buildings where they shared rooms together. The men were led to the nearby guest house and I was taken to the “Episcopal residence”-a spacious apartment where the priests would stay in rooms with two beds each; the bishop’s section (where metropolitan Gerasimos of San Francisco stays when he visits here) was locked. The spacious kitchen and living-room soon became a gathering place for the visiting priests. As I entered the apartment I was greeted by Fr. Photios from the Pittsburgh Metropolis, a retired priest who was here since Saturday, waiting to see Fr. Ephraim, the Geronda. He offered to show me around and helped me get oriented.
At 3:30 pm the sound of the wooden “symandron” filled the air with its hoarse sounds; it was time for Vespers. I put on my Exorason and Kalimafki and headed for the “katholikon”.
The church was already crowded with pilgrims. Our group members quickly disappeared in the crowd. I took my seat next to Fr. Photios at the front left side where the guest-priests stand. The service of the ninth hour finished and the priest on duty moved from the back of the church to the royal gate; the Vespers began. I looked around searching for my wife’s god-son who lives here in this monastery as a monk, Fr. Vasilios. He was received into the Orthodox Church in Orlando and my wife became his sponsor some twenty five years ago. He later followed the route to Mount Athos, where he became an Orthodox monk. After several years on the Holy Mountain, Fr. Vasilios was asked by Geron Ephraim to return to the U.S. to serve in the newly founded monasteries here. He reluctantly obeyed.
Tonight, there he was at the left chanter’s stand singing the “Kekragaria”. His proficiency in Greek surprised me even more than his ability to chant in the Byzantine mode. He stands out as the first African American to serve on Mount Athos for so many years. His life is a testimony of the yearning of the human heart for the higher existence. I had not seen him in seventeen years, so a sense of joy filled my heart tonight. There he was, worshiping, singing and living in this ascetic setting.
At the conclusion of the Vespers, the monks sang the Paraklesis Service of St. John Chrysostom – today was the celebration of his memory (November 13).
We exited the church heading for the “Trapeza” (the Dining Hall). The priests sat on a table next to the abbot’s, the monks along the wall on one side, the men in the middle tables and the women along the wall on the other side. Prayers were offered and the meal began. A monk from the “amvon” of the refectory read aloud in a monotone voice about the life of St. John Chrysostom. We all ate quietly and waited for the abbot to ring the bell so that we can pour water in out stainless-steel cups to quench our thirsts. The food was plain (Monday is a fasting day for the monks), but it tasted so good-it always does in monasteries. I remember, we discussed this several times with George and Ted during my last trip to Mount Athos with them in 2004; there is no other explanation, we concluded, the prayers of the monks who prepare this food must be the reason why it tastes so good. Most of us would not eat this way at home and yet the food here tasted as if it was the best on earth. The bread, especially – four different kinds of it – fresh out of the oven, was unbelievably tasty.
Soon, the abbot rang the bell and we all stood for thanksgiving prayers. The monk who read throughout the meal descended from the amvon and headed to the abbot. After he received a blessing and a piece of bread the dinner was concluded with the “special prayer after a meal” and the abbot walked to the entrance of the “trapeza”, raised his right hand in the mode of blessing and blessed us all as we exited, first the priests, then the monks, the men and finally the women. After everyone came out, we followed the abbot back to the church for the reading of the Small Compline, followed by the Akathist Hymn to the Theotokos. Evening services were over at about 6:15 pm and “lights out” would be at 8:00 pm.
We regrouped to evaluate our first experiences; a feeling of awkwardness hang over us. For most of the members of the group this was the first exposure to a monastic setting. The black attire of the monks, their long beards, their covered heads, the fast reading in church (all in Greek), but above all the distance the monks placed between them and us made most of us uncomfortable (I was later told by one of the monks that only few of them have permission to speak with the guests). One of the members of the group expressed that this awkwardness was almost a kind of fear of the monks. They were different. They were unusual. They were from a different world. I pointed out that this was a natural reaction. We were coming from a different world. This was a culture shock for us. Let’s give ourselves time to adjust.
We closed our meeting and headed for bed. I was exhausted. I arrived at the “Episcopal residence” to discover that I had a roommate, Fr. Theodoros. We quickly found out that our paths had crossed at the seminary during my last year at Holy Cross, when he joined the program himself. I felt like I knew him for ever. He expressed that same feeling too.
The “symandron” rang at 1:50 am,. In a matter of minutes we were in church. The Midnight service had already begun. I took my seat with the guest-priests as the monks moved into place, their dark silhouettes moving about quickly in the dimly lit church as they venerated the icons and took their seats on either side at the front of the church. The Fisrt Hour was followed by the Third Hour and then we entered the Orthros. The order of the services is a bit different at the monasteries; they follow the Typicon of St. Savvas. In the parishes we follow the Cathedral Typicon. The monasteries read extra Psalms, sing the Canon of the Feast and do the services of the Hours. The Sixth Hour followed the Orthros and then we entered the Divine Liturgy. This was the Feast of St. John Chrysostom and the services were richer in content as the great father of the Church was honored today.
All the monks lined up for Holy Communion. They have Liturgies every day, but they usually receive Holy Communion on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays after they had fasted strictly on the previous days (Monday, Wednesday and Friday). Fasting is a constant askesis for them. They never eat meat and their diet is mostly vegetables, beans, olives and salads. Eggs and cheese are consumed on days of no fasting and fish or shell-fish on days of celebration.
I had asked our group not to go for Holy Communion today. We wanted to immerse ourselves in prayer and the monastic life for a couple of days, have Confession on Wednesday and then receive on Thursday. That would make Holy Communion more meaningful and raise our experience to a higher spiritual level.
Breakfast was available for us at about 5:30 am as we exited the Divine Liturgy. Eggs, cheese and milk were served, but the monks were not there. They have only two meals a day. By six o’clock we were finished. It was still dark outside and the stars shown brighter than I had seen in a long time. The group members agreed to meet at 10:30 am for a tour of the monastic settlement. We then headed back to bed to catch up on our missed sleep. There was a lot more to see and experience, but it all could wait.
Our rendezvous was at the kiosk by the main entrance. The women were all there, but the men had gone to the kitchen to help set up for lunch. The monks had asked them to lend a hand. The dining room had to be ready by 12:30 pm for over 150 people. The monastery was at full capacity. A bus of 55 Arab speaking Palestinian Christians from California had arrived late last night. Men, women and children accompanied by two priests, father and son, were here to stay for two nights. The monks have to feed everyone, prepare our beds, wash the sheets and towels, clean the rooms and also take care of the gardens. Some of them were working at the construction site of a new chapel on a nearby hill dedicated to prophet Elias.
The meal at lunch was delicious; baked salmon, potatoes, fresh bread and salad. This was a feast!
The group met after lunch to tour the campus. The men now had a different perspective than last night. The fear of the monks was gone. “They are cool guys, they are our friends,” one of them explained. “After working side by side with them and getting to talk to them, I feel very different.” The fear has been replaced by the warm feeling of friendship. The monastic setting is having an effect on hearts and minds. I am certain we will leave here deeply changed by the experience.
Unfortunately, we make a split between the grace-bearers, between monks and missionaries. Some think that the monks by their praying do not achieve any work in society, and others undervalue the missionary effort which other Christians make.
However, things are not so simple. Many are the gifts which the Holy Spirit gives for the building up of the Body of Christ. We must value and accept the gifts which are given by the Holy Spirit. To undervalue one gift is blasphemy, according to St. Symeon the New Theologian.
At another point in his teaching St. Symeon the New Theologian says that many people regarded the desert life as blessed, some the coenobitic life, and for others blessedness was to govern the people, to legislate, teach and establish Churches: "But I would not wish to give preference to any of these states or exalt one type of life and discredit another. In all walks of life, whatever our work and activities, blessed is the life lived for God and according to God".
It is not a matter of the work we do in the Church, but of whether we do it by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, whether we perform it in the fear of God and whether we are aiming at the glory of God. Then, whatever this work is, it is blessed and will have eternal results. Otherwise our work will be burned (1 Cor. 3:12-15).
Metropolitan Hierotheos of Nafpaktos
