flux and rambling feed

The Alcoholic Monk

Once on Mount Athos there was a monk who lived in Karyes. He drank and got drunk every day and was the cause of scandal to the pilgrims. Eventually he died and this relieved some of the faithful who went on to tell Elder Paisios that they were delighted that this huge problem was finally solved.

Saint Paisios answered them that he knew about the death of the monk, after seeing the entire battalion of angels who came to collect his soul. The pilgrims were amazed and some protested and tried to explain to the Elder of whom they were talking about, thinking that the Elder did not understand.

Saint Paisios explained to them: “This particular monk was born in Asia Minor, shortly before the destruction by the Turks when they gathered all the boys. So as not to take him from their parents, they would take him with them to the reaping, and so he wouldn’t cry, they just put raki* into his milk in order for him to sleep. Therefore he grew up as an alcoholic. There he found an elder and said to him that he was an alcoholic. The elder told him to do prostrations and prayers every night and beg the Panagia to help him to reduce by one the glasses he drank.

After a year he managed with struggle and repentance to make the 20 glasses he drank into 19 glasses. The struggle continued over the years and he reached 2-3 glasses, with which he would still get drunk.”
The world for years saw an alcoholic monk who scandalized the pilgrims, but God saw a fighter who fought a long struggle to reduce his passion.

Without knowing what each one is trying to do what he wants to do, what right do we have to judge his effort?

  • Raki is a Turkish unsweetened, anise-flavored hard alcoholic drink that is popular in Turkey, Greece, Albania, Serbia, and other Balkan countries as an apéritif.

Peace on earth

Fader Thaddæus

Уместо да почнемо од себе, ми увек желимо друге да исправљамо, а себе остављамо. Кад би свако почео од себе, ево нам мир свуда!

Отац Тадеј

I stedet for at starte med os selv, ønsker vi altid at retlede andre og selv forblive, som vi var. Hvis enhver ville starte med sig selv, ville vi have fred ethvert sted.

Fader Thaddæus

In stead of starting with ourselves, we always want others to correct thenselves and leaving ourselves the way we were. If each and everyone would begin with themselves, we would have peace everywhere.

Father Thaddeus

Kilde: https://www.opanak.rs/otac-tadej-duhovne-poruke/

Vi venter på døden


Vi venter på døden,
lige så stille & uden anstrengelse,
den første & sidste lethed,
det eneste lydløse vingeslag,
hvor hjertet åbner & gensidigt opløses
med alle ting.

Alle ting
som skal ryddes op –
møbler, støv, kompost & digte i rudekuverter,
spredt over store afstande
af storme & tyngdekraft,
glemte eller gemte
bag støvede reoler,
langs tavse paneler –
løfter sig stille op mod nattens lys,
mod erindringens lykkelige facit,
mod det heles begyndelse,
i tidløs duvende kædedans.

I tidløs duvende kædedans
ser vi hinanden, som første gang,
med undrende blik & genkendelsens glæde,
og vi kender ikke andet end dét.
Vi kender alt gennem dét –
genkendelsens glæde & undrende blik,
og her stopper digtet.
Og her flyder det ustandseligt videre.
Og jeg lægger pennen & teksten rejser sig,
og vi med den,
mens vi venter på døden.

Futog, Serbien, fredag d. 9. juli, 2021


Great-martyr Phanurius the Newly Appeared of Rhodes

Commemorated on August 27 / September 9

O Lord, forgive the sins of Saint Phanourios’ mother, and Saint Phanourios help me, a sinner.

“Little is known of the holy Martyr Phanurius, except that which is depicted concerning his martyrdom on his holy icon, which was discovered in the year 1500 among the ruins of an ancient church on Rhodes, when the Moslems ruled there. Thus he is called “the Newly-Revealed.” The faithful pray to Saint Phanurius especially to help them recover things that have been lost, and because he has answered their prayers so often, the custom has arisen of baking the Phaneropita (‘Phanarius-Cake’) as a thank-offering.” (Great Horologion)

There is a tradition that his mother was a great sinner, and that he was unable to convert her in her lifetime. After her death he prayed more for her salvation than for his own. As he was being stoned to death, he prayed: ‘For the sake of these my sufferings, Lord, help all those who will pray to Thee for the salvation of Phanurius’ sinful mother.’ So, in Egypt, where he is much revered, many Christians pray ‘O Lord, save Phanurius’ mother and help me, a sinner.’

Kingdom of the heart

There is a place deep within the heart of a person into which Satan cannot see, neither penetrate (for, he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God). And there, the troubled soul can find a peace which passes all understanding; there the wounds from the arrows of the evil-one can find balm and healing, and the arrows cannot penetrate there to wound one again. Here, one does not pray with words or even with actions, but one weeps and the teardrops themselves are prayer and confession and rejoicing and hope fulfilled. Here, there is already a communication between God and the soul which is outside the realm of the laws of nature. Here, every thought is known and every movement of the heart is incense rising up up to the Creator. Here, one finds the Holy Spirit and understands something of the potential of the soul which longs to cooperate with God’s Grace, and perceives that only its sins form a barricade to that complete cooperation which it so earnestly desires. Here, one cannot remain, no matter how one longs to – longs even to die if, by that, it could remain in this deep place in the heart, being “this day in paradise with Me”. And this, of course, is only a shadow of what is yet to come for those who persevere to the end.

Archbishop Lazar Puhalo

baker street

One of my favorite songs from when I was a child. Written by Gerry Rafferty in 1978

Winding your way down on Baker Street
Light in your head and dead on your feet
Well, another crazy day
You’ll drink the night away
And forget about everything
This city desert makes you feel so cold
It’s got so many people, but it’s got no soul
And it’s taken you so long
To find out you were wrong
When you thought it held everything

You used to think that it was so easy
You used to say that it was so easy
But you’re trying, you’re trying now
Another year and then you’d be happy
Just one more year and then you’d be happy
But you’re crying, you’re crying now

Way down the street there’s a light in his place
He opens the door, he’s got that look on his face
And he asks you where you’ve been
You tell him who you’ve seen
And you talk about anything
He’s got this dream about buying some land
He’s gonna give up the booze and the one-night stands
And then he’ll settle down
In some quiet little town
And forget about everything

But you know he’ll always keep moving
You know he’s never gonna stop moving
‘Cause he’s rolling, he’s the rolling stone
And when you wake up, it’s a new morning
The sun is shining, it’s a new morning
And you’re going, you’re going home