Tag: Christianity

By decision of the Holy Synod of the Romanian Orthodox Church on July 11–12, 2024, Romanian Synod canonizes 16 martyrs, confessors, and ascetics of the 20th-centuryThe Holy Synod of the Romanian Orthodox Church formally approved the canonization of more than a dozen martyrs, confessors, and ascetics of the 20th century at its session on July 11–12.

“>sixteen God-pleasers who shone forth in the twentieth century were glorified among the saints. Among them is Hieroschemamonk Paisie (Olaru; 1897–1990), the spiritual father of Sihăstria Monastery, who from now on will be known as St. Paisie of Sihăstria, whose feast will be celebrated on December 2 (new style).

“May we see each other at the gates of Paradise!”

Elder Paisie of Sihăstria He lived for ninety-three years, almost seventy of which were in a monastery. During this long life, a huge number of people passed under his stole. He was the spiritual father of both major Church figures and ordinary peasants, for Fr. Paisie (Olaru) had the right word for everyone.

He received anyone who knocked on the door of his cell—always, at any time. He would hear confessions without stopping, for several days in a row, day and night. No one knew when he slept or ate—it seemed to everyone that he didn’t have time for such earthly activities. Everyone knew him that way—standing at the analogion in his stole and confessing someone, as though he was simply born so old and wise. Hundreds of thousands of people entrusted their sorrows to his all-embracing and kind heart and departed from the Elder happy and uplifted.

He wasn’t a great scribe. He only went to school for three years, and anyways, it was impossible to learn this bottomless wisdom from books. It flowed from above. And that’s why everyone sought him out—both the simple people and the refined intelligentsia. All obediently bowed their heads under his stole, and Father blessed them with the words: “May God grant you a corner of Paradise!”

Prayers for his disciples poured out unceasingly from his heart, full of grace:

“Bless, O Lord, their house and their table, their life and their joy. May we see each other at the gates of Paradise!”

Among all the spiritual figures who have made this dark twentieth century brighter he stands first—our Confessor.

Guide of Fr. Cleopa

The fall of 1935. United Romania was as big as ever.¹ Its people were strong and determined; they believed in their destiny. That fall, Fr. Cleopa, then still the young soldier Constantin, arrived for a short visit at Cozancea Skete, not far from his native village. Fr. Paisie (Olaru) had been laboring there for about fourteen years already. He was a humble hermit monk then, who built himself a cell in a clearing not far from the skete and labored there, contemplating the beauty of nature and immersing himself in the love of God. He was thirty-eight and he had been pastoring Constantin and his brothers since they were children, when they grazed their father’s sheep near his cell. A strong spiritual bond developed between him and the future great Sihăstria abbot Fr. Cleopa, although Fr. Paisie wasn’t a priest then and couldn’t confess the young shepherd boy who came to him only for advice and enlightenment:

“Fr. Paisie raised us and was a guide and spiritual father for my four brothers and I there in Cozancea. And we all went to the monastery! Without his holiness, perhaps none of us would have become monks.”

Even in those years, the hesychast who lived in silence in the clearings near the Cozancea skete was surrounded by a mystery that would become obvious to all when he reached maturity. This was the mystery of a spiritual guide and ruler of souls, a science that doesn’t necessarily require the grace of priesthood, but absolutely requires the grace of wisdom and the fire of Divine love. People, especially those thirsting for prayer, sense such elders unmistakably.

Fr. Paisie exhorted Constantin to become a monk and labor in the same place, but he told him he wanted to go to Sihăstria, where two of his brothers were already monks. Then the wise monk suggested that he take this oath:

“Lord, if it be Your will, bless us to be together both in this age and in the age to come. And if my brother dies before me, let me stand at his bedside; but if I die first, then let him stand at mine!”

They sealed it with the word “Amen,” and Constantin returned to his regiment. They didn’t even know that they had laid the foundation of the strongest spiritual friendship that our monasticism would know in the twentieth century.

Peter the Merciful

When he was born in 1897, he was named Peter, like the Apostle. And he, like the Apostle, was to turn many people’s hearts to God, filling them to overflowing with his simple and fervent faith. He grew up with eight brothers and sisters in the fragrant rhythm of morning and evening prayers and the Sunday scent of incense. His parents were simple but strong believers, just like their tiny Botoșani village.

Elders Paisie and Cleopa In his old age, Fr. Paisie said that his father, Ion, who served as a forester on a local nobleman’s land, spent most of his life in dugouts that he dug himself, dwelling in the solitude of dense forests. He prayed simply and aloud, so that he could be heard from afar.

“My mama,” Father said, “was very compassionate, and her songs were often mixed with lamentations.”

She was a woman of great pain of heart and would often weep for her sons who went to the front. When the First World War began, Peter was seventeen. Two of his brothers were already drafted, and their mother could find no peace thinking about them. Every day, a funeral procession with one of the soldiers from their village who had died in battle would slowly drag past the Olarus’ gates.

“Mama wailed for all of them like they were her relatives: ‘My dears, mama’s children, your mama will never see you again.’ And I would wipe her tears and say: ‘Don’t cry, mama, don’t cry.’ And I myself would cry out of pity for her. My dear mama! There’s nothing on earth more precious than the name of mother!”

Tormented by anxiety for her sons, exhausted by so many losses in their large village family, Ekaterina fell ill. She died young.

When her coffin was being carried out of their gates, one of her sons who had gone to the front hurried to meet them. He was unharmed. He deserted his unit in order to see his mother one last time. It was too much for Peter:

“I cried so much from inconsolable pain that I thought I would fall into her grave.”

Peter only finished three grades in school, but he received awards at the end of each school year. They gave him a crown to wear. One teacher gave him a book of the lives of the saints, and so, reading about their valiant labors, he decided to become a monk. He clung to the Church with all his soul, and over time, it came to take the place of his mother in his heart, after she departed so early to God.

A monk from the Cozancea forest

Peter didn’t go far. He was used to the patriarchal atmosphere of his native village and didn’t want to leave it. He changed his way of life, but not the place, when in the fall of 1921 he left for Cozancea Skete—a two-hour walk from his parents’ house.

There his compassionate heart quickly found a suitable obedience: taking care of the elderly monks. He would take them food, clean their cells, and watch over them when they were sick. And when they died, he would dig their graves himself and pray for them. Thus, his heart opened up to love all people. He had room for both the good and the bad—after all, not everyone he cared for was a saint. But he covered all their shortcomings with pity and understanding. One of the old men would tell him:

“Paisie, you’re both a father and a mother for me!”

After so many years of monasticism, his soul learned to swim in the pure waters of prayer. In the woods, he would remain vigilant for hours, learning the art of restraining his thoughts and of the prayer of the heart. He asked the abbot to bless him to go into the desert, because his soul yearned for the depths of God. But he wasn’t given a blessing, because the brotherhood really needed him. But he was eventually allowed to build a cell in the forest clearing. There he counseled Fr. Cleopa, then still a boy, grazing his father’s sheep nearby, and there he tasted the fruits of hermeticism. However, this thirst for solitude would remain in his soul throughout his life, because he always had to combine love for God with love for man.

His first disciple

It was the spring of 1932. The winter had not yet shed all the sheepskin coats, and the islands of snow were growing white among the delicate greenery of barely sprouted grass. It was time for Vespers, when day turns to night, and the monks return from various obediences to the silence of the church. A strange-looking old man came through the door of Cozancea Skete. He had long strands of gray hair and a white beard, and no shoes on his feet. He had been walking through the snow and mud for several hours, having taken off his bast shoes so they wouldn’t get dirty. Amazed by the sight, Fr. Paisie invited him into his cell.

Fr. Paisie at Sihla His name was George. He had been a shepherd for as long as he could remember and had been sleeping on the bare ground for just as long. He had never been married and never even tried to acquire any property. He was more of a forest dweller and friend of wild beasts than he was a villager. He was a shepherd with faith as gigantic as the mountains he roamed. After a few days, he moved to live with Fr. Paisie in his cell and became his disciple. He was the first and perhaps the most diligent.

“Poor man, he made bows from the waist and prostrations all the time. Once I thought about counting how many he could do. I counted to 800 and fell asleep,” Fr. Paisie said about George.

The destinies of these two ascetics were Divinely intertwined. The young monk told the old man about the monastic rules, and in return received a living example of a soul tempered in asceticism, unshakable in prayer and fasting. Brother George wasn’t just a pious shepherd. He was a saint.

“As soon as he heard something about God, the Most Holy Theotokos, or the saints, he would begin to shed floods of tears. I loved him; I couldn’t get enough of his words!”

Having crossed the threshold of eighty, Grandpa George got sick and was tonsured a monk with the name Gennady. When he felt like he was dying, he asked to be carried out of the cell so he could look up to Heaven, under the cover of which he had spent his whole life. They laid him right on the grass. The old man turned his face to the east, said a prayer, and died. This was the autumn of 1948.

After his companion departed to the Lord, Fr. Paisie also left the skete. He had wished to go be with Fr. Cleopa at Sihăstria Monastery for many years, but the abbot didn’t bless it. But now he didn’t need it (since he himself was the abbot) and he left. He was fifty-one then and had been ordained a hieromonk just a year prior. Nevertheless, there, in Sihăstria, streams of people would flock to him for Confession.

Sihăstria

At Sihăstria, Fr. Paisie was given a cell right by the altar. He had just one obedience—to confess the brethren and pilgrims. Having served as a priest for just a year, he had to give advice to monks with rich experience about how to be perfected, because he, the humble Paisie, a hermit from the forests of Cozancea, had something more. He had unrestrained love hidden in his heart, which he wanted to share with everyone who needed it. It wasn’t years in the priesthood that made him the most sought-after confessor, but rather the grace that seeped through every pore of his soul.

The brother’s residence at Sihăstria. Photo: filaretuous.livejournal.com     

This mercy was felt by the soul of every believer. And to acquire it, they were ready to travel thousands of miles and wait for hours at Father’s door, begging not for bread but for words, as if for alms—words that were living, descending from Heaven. And Father gave them to them.

He was called a hermit, although he lived in a big monastery and was surrounded by hundreds of pilgrims every day.

In Sihăstria, Fr. Paisie poured out his rich talents before the people for the first time. And he didn’t feel sorry for himself.

“He confessed day and night, both monks and laymen. He didn’t even have time to eat. He ate and labored in secret. No one knew how much he prayed and how; how much he fasted and how; what he did in general and what mystery he concealed within himself. He was full of humility, meekness, and love. He wept with the weeping and rejoiced with the rejoicing,” remembered Father Cleopa. “I confessed to him, and he to me. I was so grateful to God for bringing him to Sihăstria.”

The years in which this spiritual depth was born were not easy ones. Soviet tanks were just then establishing a harsh and godless regime in Romania. And yet, in the midst of persecution that was about to break out, God initiated spiritual movements whose power, depth, and beauty we admire today. Such were Frs. Paisie and Cleopa in Sihăstria, Arsenie (Boca) in Sâmbăta de Sus, Constantin Galeriu in Ploiești, and the members of the Burning Bush group in Bucharest.

The regime destroyed these movements after a few years. It cruelly tried to wipe them off the face of the earth forever. The members of the Burning Bush movement wound up in prison: Frs. Constantin Galeriu and Arsenie (Boca)—on the construction of the Danube-Black Sea Canal, and Fr. Cleopa was persecuted by the Securitate and he was forced to flee to the mountains several times. He was in complete solitude there, immersed in prayer for himself and for the whole world.

Fr. Paisie was miraculously spared.² For forty years he didn’t leave the analogion, and the regime didn’t touch him. All this time he was torn between Sihăstria and the Sihla hermitage, between monastery and hermetic life. But whether he was in the monastery, in his little chamber under the shadow of the altar, or in the mountains in a cell nestled against a rock, his door was always open.

Sihăstria Monastery. Photo: ziarulumina.ro     

Sihla

Sihla is about an hour’s walk from Sihăstria, but the path goes through difficult vertical cliffs and leads into another world. When Fr. Paisie first climbed up there, the skete was like an eagle’s nest, and in the impenetrable forests around it were scattered the huts of many hermits. The skete, rising up to the rocky cliffs under whose shelter St. Theodora labored in complete solitude, was more of a refuge for hesychasts than a brotherhood.

Near Sihla. Photo: sihla.mmb.ro     

Fr. Paisie chose a cell up above, a bit farther from the church, under the shadow of a rock. From there he saw the first rays of the sun and was the first to plunge into the darkness of night. He could give glory to God for the new day and retire when the last streak of light hid behind the crest of the mountain. Silence, undisturbed by anyone, reigned in these places, blessed by the prayers of hundreds of hermits who labored in the surrounding forests.

Fr. Paisie’s cell at the Sihla Skete. Photo: dzen.ru     

There were few inhabitants at the Sihla Skete. But they were monks who loved silence and prolonged prayer, and this atmosphere was ideal for Fr. Paisie. His life flowed in the rhythm of nighttime services, secret vigils in his cell, and receiving all the pilgrims who came to him for counsel, whenever necessary.

If he had a break, which happened very rarely, he would work in the tiny garden that he had planted himself. No one ever found him sitting around doing nothing. Not even for a minute. All this time he assisted in the inner rebirth of the faithful, including outstanding figures of Romanian cultural life.

To be continued…

1 Kings 1:10-16 / Ps. 146:7-10 / Heb. 9:24-28 / Mk. 12:38-44 

We must live by the obedience of faith, a faith that shows itself in works of charity and self-giving (see Galatians 5:6). That’s the lesson of the two widows in today’s liturgy.

The widow in the First Reading isn’t even a Jew, yet she trusts in the word of Elijah and the promise of his Lord. Facing sure starvation, she gives all that she has, her last bit of food — feeding the man of God before herself and her family.

The widow in the Gospel also gives all that she has, offering her last bit of money to support the work of God’s priests in the Temple.

In their self-sacrifice, these widows embody the love that Jesus last week revealed as the heart of the Law and the Gospel. They mirror the Father’s love in giving his only Son, and Christ’s love in sacrificing himself on the cross.

Again in today’s Epistle, we hear Christ described as a new high priest and the suffering servant foretold by Isaiah. On the cross, he sacrificed once and for all to take away our sin and bring us to salvation (see Isaiah 53:12).

And again we are called to imitate his sacrifice of love in our own lives. We will be judged, not by how much we give — for the scribes and wealthy contribute far more than the widow. Rather, we will be judged by whether our gifts reflect our livelihood, our whole beings, all our heart and soul, mind, and strength.

Are we giving all that we can to the Lord — not out of a sense of forced duty, but in a spirit of generosity and love (see 2 Corinthians 9:6-7)?

Do not be afraid, the man of God tells us today. As we sing in today’s Psalm, the Lord will provide for us, as he sustains the widow.

Today, let us follow the widows’ example, doing what God asks, confident that our jars of flour will not grow empty, nor our jugs of oil run dry.

Aigio, Achaea, Greece, November 8, 2024

Photo: orthodoxianewsagency.gr     

Greece is currently suffering from a prolonged drought because the country has moved away from God, the bishop of Kalavryta said during a procession with relics from the Lord’s Passion held earlier this week.

The clergy and pious people of the municipality of Aigialeia filled the streets for a procession on November 6 led by Metropolitan Ieronymos of Kalavryta and the retired Metropolitan Ambrosios, with the “Immaculate Passions” from the local Holy Archangels Monastery—a reliquary containing a piece of wood from the Lord’s Cross, part of the Crown of Thorns, part of the sponge used to give Christ sour wine while He hung on the Cross, a piece of His red cloack, as well as part of a braid of hair from the head of the Holy Forerunner St. John the Baptist, reports the Orthodoxia News Agency.

In the courtyard of the Holy Dormition Metropolitan Church, Met. Ieronymos knelt and offered supplicatory prayers on behalf of the gathered people of God for the cessation of the drought that afflicts the region and the whole of Greece.

The Immaculate Passions relics. Photo: ilioupolis.gr     

After the service, the hierarch noted that

after dozens of requests from the faithful, we gathered today to process our Lord’s Immaculate Passions and to offer, with feelings of repentance and deep faith in the Lord, supplication and to beseech Him Who was crucified and gave His blood for our salvation, to show again His compassion and philanthropic mercy to save our land and our homeland from the prolonged period of drought, to open the heavens, to send us peaceful rain for the fruition of the earth…

And he explained why the land has been afflicted:

This drought is due to the fact that we have distanced ourselves from God, we have de-sanctified and de-Christianized our homeland, we have enacted laws that are against God’s will. That is why today, repentant and humble, we beseech the Lord, having before us the Immaculate Passions, not to abandon us, not to remove His life-giving grace from His people. This Divine grace is what always, in all the difficulties we have passed through as a people, saves and protects us. Because if He takes His grace from the world and us men, then we taste and experience situations that are destructive for us and the entire world.

Recall that Greece becomes first Orthodox country to legalize gay marriageGreek Parliament voted late last night, despite the fierce and persistent resistance from the Church and society, to legalize gay marriage and adoption by gay couples.

“>in February, Greece became the first Orthodox country to legalize gay marriage.

The Metropolitan then called on the faithful to intensify their prayer.

And he concluded, “We have put our Christ aside, but He is with us and waiting for us, and when we call Him back into our lives then He transforms them, renews them with His never-setting light.

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Twenty-five years ago, Vigen Guroian, Ph.D., a theologian and professor of religious studies, wrote a book called “Tending the Heart of Virtue: How Classic Stories Awaken a Child’s Moral Imagination” (Oxford University Press, $33.33). 

His goal was to build moral character, teach values, and instill important virtues in children.

The book gained a devoted following. Dozens of lectures, workshops, and requests to write another book of its kind ensued.

In the interim, Guroian’s children Rafi and Victoria became adults with children of their own.

In 2023, Guroian published a second edition with an expanded preface and conclusion, and some stylistic changes (Oxford University Press, $20.99).

His purpose remains the same and so, thanks be to God, does his stance.

He quotes Charles Dickens who, in an 1853 essay urged that “in a utilitarian age, of all other times, it is a matter of grave importance that Fairy tales should be respected.”

“Were Dickens alive today,” Guroian adds, “I do not doubt that he would protest the persistent bowdlerization, emasculation, and revision of the classic fairy tales.”

Guroian’s contention is that our classic children’s stories awaken the moral imagination by depicting the battle of good versus evil, showing the value of such virtues as honesty, truthfulness, kindness, and self-sacrifice, and issuing an invitation to embark on our own lifelong quest for beauty and truth.

The stories touch as well on universal archetypes: dark, strange, mysterious, and often frightening presences that hover on the edge of childhood consciousness: sex, for example; or conflict between parents; or adults that we see or sense are disordered in various ways, by addiction, moral weakness, physical disabilities.

Today’s commentators, grounded in identity politics, would subject fairy tales to “sensitivity screening” and gut the stories of all interest, shock, rough edges, and juice.

Hans Christian Andersen’s “Little Mermaid,” for example, willingly lays down her life for the human prince she loves (while the prince, oblivious to her sacrifice, goes off and weds another). In so doing, she achieves the immortality for which she has always longed.

The Disney movie spins a happier gloss, ditching the dark tone in favor of a lighthearted happy ending. Given the power to kill the prince, the Little Mermaid abstains, willing his happiness over her own. Contemporary critics disdain her oblation as the mark of a brainwashed, oppressed-by-the-patriarchy female.

Such critics miss the flaming glory of the soul’s longing for God. In fact, as Guroian notes, “The Little Mermaid invites great pain and suffering upon herself. That is because she imagines more for her life and is dissatisfied with the limitations of life under the sea.”

Andersen revisionists would analyze his fairy tales through the lens of supposedly repressed homosexuality. “The Ugly Duckling,” for example, has been “mercilessly bowdlerized and recast” as a tale decrying the bullying of underdogs. “This is wrong,” says Guroian. “ ‘The Ugly Duckling’ is about how a love of beauty can change one’s life.”

Guroian is right that children have a deep, ingrained notion of justice. I think they also instinctively recognize, and instinctively revere, the notion of sacrifice. And they definitely understand the terror of being abandoned, rejected, ostracized, cast out from the herd.

What makes fairy tales and fables so stirring is that the protagonist, whether he or she knows it, is on a hero’s quest.

The young heroes of these classic stories make mistakes, take wrong turns, and commit sins (Pinocchio’s lying; Edmund’s betrayal of his siblings in “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe”).

They’re presented with temptations.

They learn the abiding treasures of friendship (“The Wind in the Willows”). They meet elders who guide, prune, and form them (George MacDonald’s “The Princess and the Goblin”). They meet elders who want to destroy them (Andersen’s “The Snow Queen”).

They suffer, often for long periods of time, often physically and almost always emotionally and spiritually. They learn that the more intense our longing for connection and love, the more in a sense we are set apart from our fellows, many (if not most) of whom do not share our longing.

But over time, and through the suffering, they mature. They grow in love. They become flesh-and-blood humans. They may die, but they will also live into eternity.

In Dostoevsky’s “The Brothers Karamazov,” the dreamy Alyosha observes “that there is nothing higher, or stronger, or sounder, or more useful afterwards in life, than some good memory, especially a memory from childhood, from the parental home … some such beautiful sacred memory… is perhaps the best education. If a man stores up such memories to take into life, then he is saved for his whole life. And even if only one good memory remains with us in our hearts, that alone may serve one day for our salvation.”

We all have such moments from our childhood that have attained iconic status, that have stuck with us, that we return to again and again.

C.S. Lewis, remembering his own childhood, spoke of a feeling kindled in him as he gazed from the nursery window, a kind of “longing,” or sehnsucht. Sehnsucht, notes Guroian, “entails a sadness due to the absence of that something, as well as a ‘remembering’ and ‘recovering’ of it. Sehnsucht’s object is something one deeply desires and wishes to be joined to, and yet from which one feels removed.”

That’s the feeling classic children’s books engender in us. In childhood, as now, many of my own best memories revolve around reading — and writing — stories.

Dedicated to Nikusha and Natasha, and their children Tyusha and Veriko

Very soon the Free Wanderer publishing house will publish a book about the Venerable Confessor St. Gabriel (Urgebadze)

“>Gabriel (Urgebadze) entitled, God Alone Knows Who Gabriel Is.

On the pages of her book, God Knows Who Gabriel Is, Ketevan Bekauri, the elder’s spiritual daughter, shares her very personal memories. Her stories are of great interest, since Ketevan was with Elder Gabriel (Urgebadze) almost on a daily basis for four years.

Most of the stories related by the author are being published for the first time. These are extremely honest reminiscences about one of the most venerated modern Georgian saints, who, out of love for God, undertook the most difficult podvig of “foolishness for Christ”. Amazingly sincere, these stories are full of faith and trust in God, warmth, depth, and humor, and have a typical Georgian flavor. Not only does the book introduce readers to events from the life of Elder Gabriel, but it also allows you to get a glimpse of the unique spiritual experience of this saint.

On the first day of Lent, when the whole convent does not eat anything, the sisters drink even water with temperance, and the Great Canon

“>Great Canon of St. Andrew of Crete is read in all churches, I also wanted to observe the fast as strictly as I could. That morning I went to see Father Gabriel in his cell. I found him lying on his bed and looking at the ceiling, saying regretfully:

“I’ve been a monk for forty years… Well, what would happen if I was given just one chicken? [He always pronounced this word in Russian, as well as many other words and expressions, such as “cell” and “the first and last monk”. He also had several tattoos from the time of his imprisonment, including on his shoulder, in Russian: “I will never forget my mother”. What would happen if they didn’t grudge a chicken for me… good rissoles… kabobs… cabbage rolls…, khashlama!¹… khinkali²… shish kabobs… (He enumerated all this with long pauses). I want good shish kabobs, a good chicken!.. I want chicken, chicken! Kabobs, good shish kabobs!.. Khinkali!!! And good dolma!!!³ Hot khashlama! I’ve been a monk for forty years!.. I am a hungry and sick man!.. Don’t I really deserve just one chicken?! I’m going to die if I don’t eat it!”

For a very long time—almost half an hour—he enumerated the most delicious meat dishes. Meanwhile, his words whetted my appetite. Finally, he said:

“The doctor told me, ‘Gabriel, you have low hemoglobin. You mustn’t fast! You need to eat liver! Your remedy is liver!’ I’ve got to eat it every day. I’m sick. My doctor has forbidden me to fast! If I don’t eat liver every day, I’m going to die!!! I wish I had good kaurma!⁴ But who will give it to me?”

And he even cried a little as he said it.

“It’s not the time to fast now! Let’s cook some good kaurma! Let’s enjoy a good meal! I’ll give you some money: go to the market and buy some liver.”

Overjoyed, I went and fulfilled his blessing.

The nuns of Here Labored Elder GabrielA distinctive feature of Samtavro is, above all, that it was precisely here that Christianity became the state religion, that is, the spiritual foundation of social and political life was laid here, based on Orthodoxy.

“>Samtavro Convent generally abide by a very strict rule. Therefore, I thought I should take all precautions: “It will be awkward to cut liver in the cell during Lent.” But as soon as I walked inside, Fr. Gabriel blessed me:

“There’s not enough air for me here to breathe!… Let’s go outside. Cut it there! And do everything exactly [he always pronounced this word in Russian as well.—Auth.] as I tell you. Today you are fully in my obedience!”

I was embarrassed, but it couldn’t be helped. I obeyed, looking forward to finishing cooking as soon as possible. And he sat me down in the most conspicuous place. He took a seat next to me and blessed me very sternly:

“Well, you’re in my obedience today. Try your best! Cut as finely as possible and as slowly as possible! Cut it more slowly, more slowly!!! Into smaller, even smaller pieces!!! I’m not in a hurry… We’ve got to make good, delicious kaurma. So delicious that the Pope of Rome would ask us, ‘Let me try it too!’”

I got down to work. As I was cutting the liver, I felt very ashamed in the presence of the nuns. Fr. Gabriel proceeded very loudly so that everyone around him could hear him:

“Today I must eat excellent kaurma. My hemoglobin is low. The doctor ordered me to do so…”

And he began to enumerate meat dishes again. At some point I started cutting faster. He immediately yelled at me:

“What did I tell you?! Cut more slowly! I’m not in a hurry!”

For almost two hours I cut that miserable liver into very small pieces! At last I finished, and under the elder’s careful guidance, put a saucepan on the kerosene stove. And I began to cook kaurma, simultaneously following all his numerous instructions on when and what to put into the saucepan and when to stir it.

“Open the lid, put the pepper inside, close the lid! Take the salt, open the lid, add some salt! Close the lid! Open the lid, stir with a spoon! That’s enough! Enough! Now some herbs! Now let’s see! Enough! Come on, close the lid quickly!”

And so it went on for an hour and a half. There were two different worlds. In one world there was an ancient convent with its strict monastic rule, in which Lent was beginning; and in the other, in the center of the same convent, in front of all the nuns, I was cutting liver and cooking kaurma for three or four hours.

Meanwhile, I had completely forgotten that there was a strict fast, and my only desire was to start eating as soon as possible. I turned the kerosene stove off, removed the lid from the saucepan and got ready to eat. And suddenly Fr. Gabriel jumped on me in terrible fury:

“What have you done!!! Did I bless you to open the lid?! You vicious double-crosser!!! Are you going to eat my kaurma during Lent? And leave me without kaurma?! Do you have low hemoglobin too?!!”

Then he swore at me with obscene words and drove me away. And even shouted after me:

“Did you want to break the fast, you traitor?!! Remember: You will be punished as many times as you break the fast!!!”

From: Ketevan Bekauri; translated from Georgian by N. L. Kargareteli-Voronina, God Alone Knows Who Gabriel Is (Moscow: Volny Strannik, 2024)

Ioannina, Epirus, Greece, November 7, 2024

Photo: romfea.gr     

A fire broke out at the Metropolitan Church of St. Athanasios in Ioannina, Epirus, Greece, in the early morning yesterday.

The fire department responded at 2 AM, and by the time of Romfea’s reporting at 9 AM, the fire was under control.

It is believed that the fire first broke out in the women’s wing of the church.

Metropolitan Maximos of Ioannina, who visited the church after the fire was extinguished, said it was a miracle that the whole building didn’t burn down.

“Of course, we’re distressed because damage has occurred, but we must glorify God because the church could’ve burned down entirely. It’s fortunate, it’s a miracle that it wasn’t completely burned,” Met. Maximos stated.

As he said, the damage isn’t minor, but the church can be restored.

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Orte, Viterbo, Italy, November 7, 2024

Photo: basilica.ro     

A new Romanian Orthodox parish has been established in the Italian town of Orte, Viterbo, under the patronage of Sts. Cleopa and Paise of Sihăstria.

Archimandrite Cleopa (Ilie)Cleopa (Ilie), Archimandrite

“>St. Cleopa and his spiritual father My Spiritual Father Paisie the HermitFew monks and confessors are able to successfully combine the labors of a hermit with ministry as a spiritual father, solitude with an abundance of spiritual children, love for God with love for neighbor, hidden tears with pain of heart for disciples.”>St. Paisie are among the 16 confessors and ascetics of the 20th-century canonized by the Romanian Holy Synod Romanian Synod canonizes 16 martyrs, confessors, and ascetics of the 20th-centuryThe Holy Synod of the Romanian Orthodox Church formally approved the canonization of more than a dozen martyrs, confessors, and ascetics of the 20th century at its session on July 11–12.”>in July. St. Cleopa has long been known and loved by the English-speaking Orthodox world thanks to translations of his life and teachings.

The newly established parish will oversee the spiritual, pastoral, and social life of Romanians in the town of Orte and its surroundings. It falls within the jurisdiction of the Romanian Orthodox Church’s Diocese of Italy, reports the Basilica News Agency.

Photo: episcopia-italiei.it     

The first service took place on Sunday, November 3, celebrated by Fr. Alexandru Cosma.

Romania: Monastic house consecrated in honor of Elders Cleopa and Paisie (Olaru)The great 20th-century Elders Cleopa (Ilie) and Paisie (Olaru) were officially named the patrons of the new residential building at a monastery in northeastern Romania.

“>In February 2022, Sts. Cleopa and Paisie were named the patrons of the residential building at Coșula Monastery in Western Moldavia.

A monastery named for them is being built in Vadu Negrilesei, Suceava, near one of the sites where Elder Cleopa labored for years in hermitic asceticism due to the persecutions of the communist authorities. His cell at the site, which was restored in 2015, was consecrated on Cell and spring of Elder Cleopa consecrated in mountains where he hid from Communist regimeElder Cleopa spent many years living in almost total seclusion, praying for the suffering Romanian people and for the whole world. He retreated to the Stânisoara Mountains in the 1950s.

“>December 2021.

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Kiev, November 7, 2024

Photo: spzh.live     

Two reporters from the Union of Orthodox Journalists will soon be released from detention in Kiev, where they have been held for just under 8 months.

Yesterday, November 6, the Shevchenko Court of Kiev made a decision to change the preventive measure for the two UOJ employees, Valery Stupnitsky and Andrei Ovcharenko, reports the UOJ.

Granting the defense’s motion, the judge allowed for an alternative preventive measure in the form of bail in the amount of 908,000 hryvnias ($21,900) for Andrei Ovcharenko and 908,400 hryvnias ($21,910) for Valery Stupnitsky.

Security Service raids offices of Orthodox journalists and lawyersOne of the four men detained is the rector of a church in the capital.

“>In March of this year, six journalists from the UOJ and human rights activists were arrested and placed in an SBU (State Security Service) detention center on suspicion of “working for the FSB,” because they report on the persecution of the canonical Ukrainian Orthodox Church. The men, including the rector of a church in Kiev, face the possibility of life in prison.

The press service of the SBU reported only late last month that it had completed its pre-trial investigation against “members of a criminal organization who carried out information sabotage against Ukraine on order of the FSB.” They are charged with four criminal articles: treason, collaboration, violation of the equality of citizens, and the creation of a criminal organization.

Two other detainees, Archpriest Sergei Chertilin and Vladimir Bobechko were already released on bail.

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Kiev, November 7, 2024

Photo: uoc-news.church     

His Beatitude Metropolitan Onuphry of Kiev and All Ukraine, the greatly beloved primate of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church, turned 80 on Monday, November 5.

Met. Onuphry is recognized throughout the Orthodox Church as a meek and humble man of prayer who enjoys the devotion of the Orthodox faithful. He, in turn, is Metropolitan Onuphry’s Pastoral Love for the Ukrainian PeopleUndoubtedly, from a secular PR perspective, Met. Onuphry’s choice to remain seated was a nightmare, but he chose to represent a higher calling.

“>greatly devoted to his flock.

Vladyka labored in asceticism for many years at the Holy Trinity-St. Sergius Lavra and the Holy Dormition-Pochaev Lavra, and has served the Church as a hierarch for over 30 years.

Hierarchs from various Local Churches, including the primates of the Georgian, Serbian, Polish, Czech-Slovak, Macedonian, and Moldovan Churches, offered congratulations to Met. Onuphry for his birthday.

His Holiness Catholicos-Patriarch Ilia of Georgia writes:

Your efforts to protect universal Christian values—love for neighbor, goodness, truth … deserve deep respect, against the background of the trials that have befallen Ukraine.

His Holiness Patriarch Porfirije of Serbia writes:

We pray with all our heart, first and foremost, that the God of love and the Good Shepherd would send peace to Your land, to the hearts of the flock entrusted to You, grant you inexhaustible love, bodily strength, spiritual powers, and constant help in Your difficult but God-pleasing archpastoral ministry. Many and blessed years, Your Beatitude!

His Beatitude Metropolitan Rastislav of the Church of the Czech Lands and Slovakia writes:

In these difficult times that we’re experiencing, Your dedication is a great example to us of humility, wisdom, and continuous labor. For all of us, You are a model of a good shepherd and caring father, whose unwavering faith in God helps overcome all difficulties, patiently serve your people at God’s throne, and guide the faithful to stand firm in Christ’s Truth…

May the Most Holy Theotokos, together with the host of venerable fathers of the Kiev Caves and all saints, always extend their prayerful protection over You!

And from within the Ukrainian Church, His Eminence Metropolitan Luke of Zaporozhye writes:

Spiritual history teaches us that in the most difficult times, the Church must be led by a person with a spiritual and prayerful heart. And I thank God that He, in His mercy, has given us a good shepherd who, in his steering of the Church ship, relies not on political, administrative, or managerial calculations, but on God’s will and His good providence…

In today’s difficult times, we must remember that it is not we who protect the Church, but it who protects us. And I am glad that thanks to the wise, prayerful leadership of our Beatitude Metropolitan Onuphry, we serve and pray not in a religious-political organization, not in a structure that thinks about how to please the world, but in God’s Church, which was and remains faithful to its Creator.

On this eightieth birthday, I wish to express to our dear archpastor wishes for peace of soul, quietness of heart, bright autumn clarity, bodily strength, God’s grace, and wise meekness, against which all the devil’s schemes are powerless.

***    

Orest Berezovsky was born on November 5, 1944 in the Chernivtsi Province as the son of a priest. After working in construction and studying at Chernivtsi University, he enrolled in the Moscow Theological Seminary in 1969 and became a part of the Holy Trinity-St. Sergius brotherhood the following year.

He was tonsured as a monk with the name Onuphry in honor of St. Onuphrius the Great on March 18, 1971. He was ordained as a hierodeacon on June 20, 1971, and as a hieromonk on May 29, 1972.

He was appointed dean of the monastery on June 28, 1985, and on Nativity the following year, he was elevated to the rank of archimandrite.

He graduated from the Moscow Theological Academy as a candidate in theology in 1988, and after 18 years there, he returned to Ukraine to serve as abbot of the Holy Dormition-Pochaev Lavra until he was consecrated as Bishop of Chernivtsi and Bukovina on December 9, 1990 by Metropolitan Philaret Denisenko, who later became an anathematized schismatic.

In 1992, he opposed the non-canonical actions of Met. Philaret, for which he was punished and transferred to the Ivano-Frankivsk Diocese. The faithful of Chernivtsi, however, defended their beloved archpastor, and he was restored to the Chernivtsi Diocese after 2.5 months.

In 1994, he was elevated to the rank of archbishop, and to metropolitan in 2000. On February 24, 2014, he was elected as Locum Tenens of the primatial throne, and on August 13, 2014, he was elected the next primate of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church.

August 17, 2024, marked His Beatitude’s Metropolitan Onuphry’s 10th anniversary as primate of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church (+VIDEO)His Beatitude is beloved not only in Ukraine, but throughout the Orthodox world, and he received a number of letters of congratulations from primates and hierarchs of Sister Orthodox Churches.

“>10th anniversary as primate of the canonical UOC.

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Proposed school choice initiatives in three states — Colorado, Kentucky and Nebraska — appear to have been defeated at the ballot box in the Nov. 5 general election.

Brittany Vessely, executive director of the Colorado Catholic Conference, told OSV News that Colorado’s Catholic bishops were “disappointed in the loss of Amendment 80,” which would have created a state constitutional right to school choice and equal opportunity for K-12 children.

In addition, the proposed measure would have enshrined in the state constitution parents’ right to direct their children’s education, while adding a range of school types — including private, charter and home schools — in the state’s definition of school choice.

With 73% of the estimated vote total reported by midday Nov. 6, slightly more than half (52%) of voters had rejected the amendment, while 48% were in favor.

“Amendment 80 aligned with Catholic social teaching: to ensure that parents are permitted to select the best education option(s) for their children and each person of every age has a right to education,” Vessely said.

That includes “using a portion of state funding for parents to direct to the learning option that best fits the needs of their child,” she said.

Vessely said that due to the rejection of Amendment 80, “It is likely that the anti-school choice majorities in the state Legislature will continue to attack Colorado’s current school choice options, including charter schools, and erode the rights of conscience and expression for parochial education providers and parents who choose options other than traditional public schools.”

Catholic advocacy for school choice initiatives has its roots in the church’s teaching on parents’ responsibility for their children’s education. The Catechism of the Catholic Church specifies that “parents have the right to choose a school for (their children) which corresponds to their own personal convictions,” describing that right as “fundamental.”

In addition, the Catechism states that “public authorities have the duty of guaranteeing this parental right and ensuring concrete conditions for its exercise.”

Kentucky’s proposed Amendment 2 would have paved the way to provide state funding for “the education of students outside the system of common schools,” as public K-12 schools are termed in Kentucky’s constitution.

But the results by midday Nov. 6, with nearly all of the estimated vote total reported, indicated that close to 65% of Kentucky voters had rejected the amendment, with slightly more than 35% in support.

“We’re really disappointed, especially in the margin of the (opposition’s) victory,” Jason Hall, executive director of the Kentucky Catholic Conference, told OSV News.

Hall said that “Kentucky is an island surrounded by states with school choice” and so the amendment’s defeat “really closes the door on it for the foreseeable future.”

Last month, Hall had told OSV News the amendment’s passage could help “provide Catholic education as an option for families where that was a good fit for them, who currently could not afford it financially,” while stressing that the conference broadly support policies to expand parental choices in education.

Now, he said, the rejection of Amendment 2 “creates challenges for Catholic schools to be able to come up with other ways to help people attend who lack the financial means to do so.”

In Nebraska, voters opted to repeal Section 1 of Legislative Bill 1402, which allocated $10 million in public funds for low-income students or students with special needs to attend non-public schools.

With nearly all the estimated ballot total reported by midday Nov. 6, over 57% voted to strike the funding, while just under 43% wanted to retain it.

Both Vessely and Hall lamented how the defeat of the school choice initiatives in their respective states would negatively impact on Catholic parents’ ability to provide for the education of their children.