“As for me, it is good to draw near to God, and I have made the Lord my refuge and my hope” (Psalm 72:28).

I said, as I returned to my spiritual father's house: The saying, "And you measure, and the fates laugh," is true. I thought I would start my journey to the holy city of Jerusalem, but I had to change my mind. Something had happened that I had not anticipated, which would require me to stay here for another two or three days. I could not stay without coming to you to inform you of the matter and ask your advice about it. Here is what happened:

I said goodbye to everyone and returned to walking, seeking God’s help. I was about to leave the city when I saw, standing at the door of the furthest house in the city, a tourist approaching whom I had not seen for three years. I went up to him and we exchanged greetings. He asked me where I was going, and I replied: To the Holy Jerusalem. God willing.

He said: Good! I suggest you an excellent companion. I said: Thank you very much! Don't you know that I never take a companion, and that I always walk alone?

“Yes! But listen: I know that this companion suits you and is suitable for you. Everything will be fine with you and with him. The father of the owner of this house—I am here acting as a caretaker—has vowed to go on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and nothing will disturb you in his company. He is one of the merchants of the town, a good old man, and, besides, he is deaf and cannot hear even if you shout at the top of your voice. If anyone wants something from him, he writes it down on a piece of paper. He is always silent, so he will not disturb you on your journey. Besides, he does not need you as a companion. His son has given him a horse and a carriage, which he will sell in Odessa. The old man wants to go on foot, and in the carriage he will carry his belongings and some gifts for Christ’s tomb. You can put your bag in it… Now think. Do you think it is possible to let this deaf old man travel alone?… We have looked for a driver for a long time, but they are asking for a high fee.” It would be dangerous to let him go with an unknown person, for he has money and some valuables. But I will be your guarantor, and my master will be pleased with me, for they are good people who love me very much. I have been in their service for two years.

After saying this, while we were at the door, he took me to his teacher. I saw that the family was respectable, so I accepted their offer. We decided to travel two days after Christmas, God willing, after attending the Divine Liturgy.

These are the unexpected events that happen to us on the paths of life! However, the one who works through our actions and intentions is always God Almighty and His divine providence, as it is written: (For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work…) (Philippians 2:13).

My spiritual father said to me: My heart is content, my beloved brother, since God has permitted me to return and see you again. Since you have nothing to occupy you, I will let you stay for a while so that you may tell me some of the things you encountered during your wandering life, for I have been pleased to hear your former stories.

I replied: With pleasure and started talking.

Good and bad things have happened to me, and one cannot relate everything. For many things I have forgotten, and I have only sought to recall those things which would bring my lazy soul back to prayer. As for the rest, I have rarely thought of them, or rather, I have tried to forget the past, according to the teaching of the Apostle Paul, who said: “… But one thing I strive to do: forgetting those things which are behind me and reaching forward to those things which are before me, I press on toward the goal…” (Philippians 3:13). The blessed Startos used to tell me that obstacles to prayer may come from the right and from the left. (1) Any obstinate one. If he cannot distract the soul from prayer with vain thoughts or sinful imaginations, he sends us good memories or beautiful thoughts in order to distract the mind from prayer, for it cannot bear to hear them. This is called turning from the right: the soul despises talking to God, and begins a sweet talk with itself or with creatures. Therefore, he taught me not to leave room in my mind, during prayer, for any thought, however beautiful and sublime it may be. If, at the end of the day, we find that we have spent more time in meditation or in spiritual conversations than in pure, abstract prayer, this should be considered a lack of insight or spiritual greed, especially in beginners, who should spend more time in prayer than in other aspects of spiritual activity.

But one cannot forget everything. Some memories are so deeply embedded in the memory that they remain alive without being recalled, like the memory of that virtuous family, for example, among whom God had destined me to spend a few days.

pious orthodox family

I was passing through Tobolsk province and one day passed through a small town. My supply of bread was almost gone, so I went into a house to ask for some bread. The master of the house said to me: You have come just in time, for my wife has just taken the bread out of the oven. Here is a hot loaf of bread for us.

I put the loaf of bread in my bag and thanked him, and the mistress of the house saw me and said: What a wretched bag you have! It is torn and tattered, let me give you another one. And she gave me a nice, strong bag. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart and left. At the edge of the town I asked a merchant for a little salt, and he gave me a whole bag. I was very happy about that and thanked God who had enabled me to address my request to good and righteous people.

I said to myself: I have a week's provisions, so I can sleep tomorrow with peace of mind. (Bless the Lord, O my soul!) (Psalm 103 and 104:1).

I had not gone five leagues from the city when I saw a town of moderate size, in which was a small wooden church, but well painted on the outside and elegantly decorated. The road passed by it, and I desired to kneel before the temple of the Lord. So I climbed the little steps of the church and prayed. In a meadow by the church were playing two little children, about five or six years old. I thought that, in spite of the appearance of care shown upon them, they were undoubtedly the sons of the priest.

I finished my prayer and went on my way, but I had hardly taken ten steps when I heard someone calling behind me: Wait! Wait, you kind beggar!

This was the voice of the two children calling me as they ran towards me: a little boy and a girl. I stopped, and they ran to me and grabbed my hand:

- Come to my mother, she loves beggars.

I am not a beggar, but a wayfarer.

-What is this bag?

- It is my bread, my provision for my journey.

- No problem, come with us. Mom will give you money for your trip.

-Where is your mother?

-There, behind the church, behind the trees.

They took me into a beautiful garden, in the middle of which I saw a large rich man's house. We entered the hall. Everything was very clean! Suddenly a lady ran towards us and said: How happy I am! Where did God send you to us? Sit down, sit down, my dear!

She took my bag out of my bag herself, put it on a table, and sat me down in a comfortable, soft chair.

- Do you want to eat?... drink tea?... don't you have something I can do for you?

I replied: Thank you very much. I have food in my bag, and as for tea, I would be happy to drink some of it… but I am a peasant and not used to it. Your kindness and generosity are more precious to me than food and drink. I will pray to the Lord to bless you for this evangelical hospitality.

As I said this, I felt a strong desire to collect my thoughts and senses. Prayer was seething in my heart, and I needed quietness and stillness to let this flame go forth without restraint, and not to hide the outward signs of prayer, such as tears, sighs, movements of the face or lips. So I rose and said:

Excuse me... I have to go. May the Lord Jesus Christ be with you and your two sweet little boys.

“Ah… no! God bless you: don’t go!… I won’t let you go. My husband will be back from town in the evening; he is a judge in the district court. He will be very pleased to see you! He considers every pilgrim a messenger from God. Besides, tomorrow is Sunday, and you will celebrate the Divine Liturgy with us, and whatever God bestows we will eat together. We always receive at least thirty poor people in our house on feast days, for the poor are brothers of Christ. And besides, you have not told me about yourself, neither where you came from nor where you are going. Tell me, for I like to listen to the talk of those who love the Lord… My son! Take the pilgrim’s bag to the icon room, where he will spend the night.”

I was amazed when I heard this, and I said to myself: Is this woman a human being or an angel who appeared to me?

So I waited for the master of the house. I told the lady some of the news of my journey, and told her that I was going to Irkutsk.

"Well," said she, "your way passes through Tobolsk, where my mother lives in a convent to become a nun. We will take you with a letter to her, and she will receive you. Many come to her and ask her for spiritual guidance. In any case, we will send her with you a book written by St. John Climacus." (2) We recommended him to her from Moscow. Everything is arranged, how good is the Lord's plan!

When it was time for lunch, we sat down to eat. There were four other ladies sitting with us. After finishing the first course, one of them got up, bowed before the icon, then before us, and went to bring the second course. At the third course, another lady got up and did the same thing. I said to the mistress of the house, seeing this:

- May I ask if these ladies are members of your family?

- Yes! They are my sisters: the cook, the cart driver's wife, the maid and my butterfly. They are all married and there is no single woman among them.

When I saw and heard all this, my astonishment increased and I thanked the Lord who had led me to the house of a group of pious and devout people. I felt the prayer rising strongly in my heart, so I got up to be alone and said to the lady: No doubt you are resting after lunch, but I myself am used to walking and I am accustomed to it. I am going to the park to walk.

The lady said: No! I do not rest after lunch. I will accompany you to the garden and you will tell me what is useful and instructive for me. If you go alone, my sons will not let you rest, but will stay with you all the time because they love the poor, the brothers of Christ and the pilgrims very much.

I could no longer help it, so we went into the garden together. Wishing to be politely silent, I bowed to the lady and said, "I beg you, madam, tell me if you have been living this pious life for a long time. Tell me how you have attained to this degree of righteousness."

She said: It is not difficult. My mother is a descendant of Saint Josaphat. (3) Whose remains are venerated in the city of Belgorod. We had a large house in this city, one wing of which we rented to a nobleman of little wealth. It happened that the nobleman died, as did his wife, after giving birth to a child who, with the death of his mother, became an orphan with no one to support him. My mother took him in. The following year I was born. We grew up together, we had the same teachers, he was my brother and I was his sister. When my father died, my mother left the city and came to live with us in this village. When we grew up, my mother married me to a woman from her village. (4) She gave us this village and decided to enter the monastery. She blessed us and advised us to live a Christian life, to pray with all our hearts and to keep above all the first commandment: the commandment of loving our neighbor, by helping the poor, the brothers of Christ, raising our children in the fear of God and treating our peasants as our brothers. We have now spent ten years living in this isolation, striving to do what our mother advised. We have opened a shelter for the poor, in which there are more than ten of them at the present time, between the crippled and the sick. We will visit them tomorrow, if you wish.

I asked her after she finished speaking:

-And where is the book of John Climacus that you want to send to your mother?

- Let's go home and I'll show you.

We returned home, and had scarcely begun to read when her husband arrived. We kissed each other like brothers in Christ, and then he took me to his room, saying: Come, brother, to my study and bless my room. I think she has bored you (and he pointed to his wife). When she sees a tourist or a sick person, she is filled with such great joy that she does not leave him night or day. It is an old custom that has been passed down through her family from generation to generation.

We reached his office and entered it. What a multitude of books it contained! Besides these were great and splendid icons and a life-size cross before which lay the Gospel. I made the sign of the cross and said: In your house, my lord, you have the garden of God: here is the Lord Jesus Christ, and here is His all-pure Mother, and here are His holy and righteous servants, and here are their sayings and teachings, living and enduring. I think you enjoy talking to them a lot.

He said: Yes! I love reading very much.

I asked him: What kind of books do you buy?

I have many religious books: this is the Menaon, and these are the works of John Chrysostom and Basil the Great. (5)On the other hand, I have many philosophical and theological books, and many sermons of contemporary preachers. This library cost me five thousand rubles.

I asked him: Do you have a book that discusses prayer?

- I love books about prayer very much. Here is a new booklet written by a priest from St. Petersburg.

He took out from among the books an explanation of the Lord's Prayer and we began to read it. After a while his wife came carrying tea while the two children carried a basket full of a kind of candy I had never tasted the like of in my life.

The gentleman took the book from me and gave it to his wife and said: You will read to us, she is a good reader and we will have lunch in the meantime.

The lady began to read. As I listened, I felt the prayer rising in my heart. The more the lady read, the more the prayer grew and increased in me, and my joy increased. Suddenly, a shadow appeared to me, swiftly crossing the air, a shadow like the deceased Stars. I made a movement, but said, as a pretext, “Excuse me, I dozed off.” Then I felt that the spirit of Stars had come into my soul and illuminated it, and I felt that there was a bright light inside me and many thoughts about prayer. I made the sign of the cross, trying to drive away these thoughts. The lady finished her reading, and the master asked me if I liked what I had read. The conversation turned to this subject, and I said:

- I like it very much. The prayer of the “Our Father…” is in every case higher and better than all the written prayers we have, because the Lord Jesus Christ himself taught it to us. The explanation we read about it then is good, but it is entirely concerned with the practical life of the Christian, while I have read an explanation of the Fathers that is more mystical in nature, directed towards meditation.

- And with which fathers did you find that?

- At Maximus the Confessor (6) For example, in the Philokalia, by Peter of Damascus: (7).

- Do you remember what you read? Repeat it for us if you can.

- With pleasure. Prayer start:

(Our Father who art in heaven), the book we have just read says that these words mean that we must love our neighbor as a brother, because we are all children of one Father. This is true and right, but the Fathers add to it a spiritual explanation. They say: As we pronounce these words, we must lift up our spirits to the Heavenly Father, and remember that we must be in the presence of God at all times. As for the phrase: Hallowed be Thy name, your book explains it as the necessity of not mentioning the name of God in vain, but the Sufi commentators see in it the prayerful person’s request to God to grant him the inner prayer of the heart, meaning: In order for the name of God to be sanctified, it must be firmly rooted in the heart, and must sanctify and enlighten, through constant prayer, all the feelings and powers of the soul. As for our saying: Thy kingdom come, the Fathers explain it in this way: May inner peace, comfort, and spiritual joy dwell in our hearts. Your book says that the phrase: Give us this day our daily bread relates to the needs of our physical life and to what is necessary to help our neighbor. But Maximus the Confessor sees in the essential bread the heavenly bread that nourishes the soul, that is, the Word of God, and the union of the soul with Him, the Most High, through contemplation and constant prayer of the heart.

The master was surprised and said:

- Ah! Inner prayer is a difficult thing, and it is almost impossible for those who live in the world. Without the help and assistance of the Lord, we would not even be able to perform ordinary prayer without laziness.

- Do not speak like that, sir. If inner prayer were beyond human capacity, God would not have recommended it to everyone. (My strength is made perfect in weakness) (2 Corinthians 12:9), and the fathers prepare for us the means that facilitate the path leading to inner prayer.

The master said: I have never read anything definitive about this subject.

- I will read you, if you wish, passages from the Philokalia.

I took the Philokalia and looked for a passage by Peter of Damascus on page 48 of the third part and read the following:

(We must practice the remembrance of God as much as we practice breathing, at all times, in all places, and in all circumstances. The Apostle said: “Pray without ceasing.” By this he taught that God must be remembered at all times, in all places, and in all things. If you are doing something, think of the Creator of all things. If you see light, remember Him who gave you light. If you contemplate the sky, the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, marvel at them and praise Him who created them and glorified Him. If you are clothed in a garment, think of the One from whom it came to you and thank Him who sustains your existence. In short, let every movement you make be a motive for glorifying the Lord, and thus you will be in unceasing prayer, and your soul will be in constant joy.)

Look how simple and easy this method is, how it is within the reach of the simplest people.

They liked this text very much. The master kissed me warmly, thanked me, looked at the Philokalia and said: I must buy this book. I will order it in Petersburg. But I will copy down at once the passage I have read, so that I may remember it and not forget. Please advise me.

He quickly wrote it down in beautiful handwriting. Then he exclaimed: Oh God! I have – what a coincidence – the icon of the Damascene (it was, most likely, the icon of St. John of Damascus) (8).

He opened the picture frame and hung the paper he had just written under the icon, saying: A living word from one of God's servants placed under his picture will repeatedly prompt me to act on this saving advice. Then we went to dinner. Everyone returned to the table with us, men and women. What a reverent silence and quietness prevailed during the meal! After dinner, we all prayed, including the children, and he asked me to read the Sweet Jesus Prayer.

The servants went to bed, so we three remained in the hall. Then the lady brought me a white shirt and stockings, so I bowed respectfully and said:

-Madam, I can't take socks, I've never used them in my life, we only use wraps around our legs.

She came back to me a moment later with an old yellow shirt of expensive felt, torn in rolls. The gentleman declared that my shoes were no longer good for anything, so he brought me a new pair, which he put on over his boots, and said to me: Go into that room, there is no one there, you can change your underwear there.

So I went and changed my clothes and came back to them. They made me sit on a chair and began to put on my shoes. The master was wrapping the bandages around my legs while the lady was busy with the soles of my shoes. At first I did not want to let them do this, but they made me sit down and said, Sit down and be quiet. Christ washed the feet of his disciples. I could not resist them and began to cry, and they cried too.

The lady went to sleep with her children, and the gentleman and I went out into the garden to chat in a booth. We stayed up late. We lay down on the ground and talked. Then he suddenly came up to me and said:

“Answer me honestly, who are you? You are no doubt a nobleman, pretending otherwise. You can read and write perfectly, your thinking and speech are like that of a scholar, you were certainly not raised as a peasant.”

“I have spoken to you and your wife without deceit, and have revealed my origin with all frankness, and have never thought of lying or deceiving you. Why have I done this? What I say is not from me, but from the wise Startos and the Fathers in whose writings I have read what I know. The inner connections that dispel my ignorance and enlighten my mind I have not acquired by myself, but were born in my heart by the mercy of God and thanks to the teaching of the Startos. Any man can do what I do. It is enough for a man to quietly and silently immerse himself in his heart and to constantly mention the name of Jesus Christ. Soon he will discover the inner light, and everything will become clear, and some of the mysteries of the Kingdom of God will be revealed. Indeed, it is a great mystery for a man to discover his ability to delve into the depths of himself and to know himself truly, and to weep slowly over his fall and the corruption of his will. It is not very difficult for a man to think correctly and to talk to people. It is possible, for the soul and the heart existed before human knowledge and human wisdom. However much a man is educated by science or experience, his education will be of no use to him if he does not have intelligence. The point is that we are far from ourselves and never wish to come close to ourselves, but always run away so as not to meet ourselves face to face, so we prefer nonsense to the truth and think in this way: I would like to take care of my spiritual life and occupy myself with prayer, but I do not have time, because work and worries stand in the way. But what is more important and more necessary: the eternal life of a sanctified soul, or the mortal life of the body for which we toil and suffer? And thus people either attain wisdom or ignorance and folly.

 - Excuse me, dear brother, the reason for my words was not merely a desire for knowledge, but rather Christian love. Then, two years ago, something very strange happened to me.

One day a poor old man came to us, exhausted. He had a soldier's ticket, and was so poor that he was almost naked. He was a man of few words, and his speech was like that of a peasant. We put him up in the boarding house, and five days after his arrival he fell ill, so we moved him to this cabin, and my wife and I gave him the best care. When it was clear to us that he was going to die, the priest introduced him and administered the Holy Sacraments to him. On the eve of his death he got out of bed and asked me for paper and a pen, and insisted that the door should be kept closed so that no one would enter while he was writing his will, which he had asked me to send to his son in Petersburg. I was amazed and astonished to see that he was a very good writer, and that his writing was correct, even beautiful, refined, and full of emotion. To-morrow I will show you this will, for I have kept a copy of it. All this aroused my wonder and curiosity, so I asked him to tell me about his upbringing and life. He made me swear not to tell anyone anything before his death, then he told me the following for the glory of God:

“I was a rich prince, and led a life of splendid luxury. My wife had died, and I was living with my son, who was then a captain in the Imperial Guard. One evening, as I was preparing to go to a grand ball, I became angry with my valet, struck him on the head, and, out of patience, ordered him to be sent away. This happened in the evening, and the next morning the valet died of a brain infection. No one attached the slightest importance to the incident, and I completely forgot about the matter, regretting my resort to violence. But six weeks had passed before the valet began to appear to me in dreams. He came to harass me every night, and scolded me, saying continually, ‘You unscrupulous man, you have killed me!’ Then I saw him again while I was awake. The visions became more frequent and more frequent, until at last the valet was always before me. Finally, at the same time as my valet appeared to me, I began to see other dead people, men whom I had rudely insulted, or women whom I had seduced. They all blamed me, and I had no rest, so much so that I could neither sleep nor eat nor do any work. My strength failed and my health was ruined, and my skin stuck to my bones. The efforts of the doctors were in vain, and I went abroad to be treated, but after six months I noticed that there was no improvement in my condition, but on the contrary the terrible visions appeared to me more and more. So they returned me to my house more dead than alive. My soul had known all the torments and pains of hell before it was separated from my body, and from that time on I believed in hell, for I knew what it was.

In the midst of these torments I realized how ugly I was, so I repented and confessed my sins, freed all my servants, and vowed to spend the rest of my life in the hardest labors, and to disguise myself in the clothes of the poor, so that I would be the most contemptible servant to the lowest of men. I had not yet resolved on this and determined to do it until the visions had passed. My reconciliation with God gave me such great joy and consolation that cannot be expressed in truth. Then I also understood by experience what bliss was and how the Kingdom of God lies in our hearts. Soon I was completely healed, and set about carrying out my plan. I obtained the identity card of a former soldier and secretly left my native land. For fifteen years now I have been wandering around Siberia. Sometimes I have rented myself out to the peasants to do such work as my strength would permit, and sometimes I have begged in the name of Christ. What great happiness I have known in the midst of these privations! What joy and peace of conscience! Only a man who has been rescued by divine mercy from a hell of torment to heaven will understand this. When he said this, he gave me his will to send to his son, and the next day he died.

“Here, I have a copy of the will in the Bible I carry in my bag. I’ll show it to you if you want. Here it is!”

I spread the paper and read:

(Glory to the Holy Trinity, indivisible at all times. My dearest son, fifteen years have passed without you seeing your father, but sometimes, in his hidden life, he received some news of you, but in his heart he has his fatherly love for you. And it is this love that prompts him to write these last words, so that they may be a lesson and a moral for you in life.

You know how much I suffered in order to atone for my sinful and reckless life, but you do not know how much happiness and joy I reaped from the fruits of remorse, during my unknown life of wandering.

I die in peace in the house of a benefactor to me who is also benefactor to you, for the good things given to a father must reach the affectionate son. Show him your gratitude in every way you can.

I leave you my paternal blessing, urging you to remember God and act according to your conscience. Be kind, careful and prudent. Treat those below you well, do not despise the poor or the travelers, remembering that only poverty and a life of homelessness allowed your father to find peace.

I ask God to grant you His grace and close my eyes in peace in the hope of eternal life through the mercy of our Redeemer Jesus Christ.

Thus the conversation went on between me and that good gentleman. I said to him suddenly: I think, sir, that the shelter is causing you a lot of trouble and trouble. Many of our brothers become tourists only through laziness or sloth, and wander aimlessly in the streets, and I have seen much of that.

The master replied: No! There were few such people. Most of those we shelter are genuine tourists. However, when their appearance does not inspire confidence, we treat them with extra kindness and keep them for a while in the shelter. They often, through their contact with our poor brothers in Christ, reconcile and straighten up, and leave us with a heart full of humility and tenderness. A matter happened to me not long ago, which I will mention to you by way of example: One of the merchants of our city had fallen so low in vice that everyone was driving him away with beatings and sticks. No one would give him a piece of bread. He had become poor and had to beg. He was a drunkard, prone to violence and troublemaker. In addition to all these abominations, he used to steal. He came to us one day, driven by hunger, and asked for bread and some arak, for he was also addicted to drinking. We welcomed him and treated him kindly, and said to him:

“Stay with us, and we will give you whatever you want, but on one condition: that you go to bed immediately after drinking, and if you commit the slightest evil, we will not only expel you permanently, but I will ask the governor of the province to imprison you for your vagrancy.” So he agreed and stayed with us. During a week or more, he drank as much as he wanted to drink, but he, disobeying the promise we made to him, and perhaps fearing that he would be deprived of his arak, would go and lie down in his bed or stretch out quietly in a corner of the garden. When he came to his senses, our brothers in the shelter would talk to him and urge him to moderate his drinking. So he began to drink less, and after three months, he no longer tasted alcohol. He now works I don’t know where and no longer eats bread other than that. He visited me the day before yesterday.

Then I thought to myself: How wise is this system, governed by love! And I exclaimed: Blessed be God, whose mercy is revealed within the walls of your home!

We dozed off a little, after all these conversations, and woke up to the sound of the bell ringing for morning prayer. We went to the church where we found the lady with her two sons. We prayed the morning prayer and then the Divine Liturgy. I was with the master and his little son in the sanctuary, and the lady was with her daughter near the royal door to watch the raising of the Holy Eucharist up close. By God! How beautiful their prayers were, and how many tears of joy they shed! Their faces were so radiant and bright that it made me cry for His majesty.

After the prayer, the two masters and the priest, along with the servants and all the poor of the shelter, sat down to eat at one table. There were forty or more poor people, including cripples, sick people and children. But there was a deep silence around the table. I summoned up my courage and said to the master in a low voice: In the monasteries, the lives of the saints are read during the meal, and you may do so as long as you have the whole minaon. The master of the house turned to his wife and said: We must begin this, Mary. It is a good thing for all of us. I will begin by reading first, and the second time you will read, then our father the priest and our brothers, each in turn and according to his ability.

The priest stopped eating and said: “To listen, with pleasure, but to read, abomination! I have no free time. As soon as I enter the house I am bewildered by the multitude of things I have to do, and I find nothing but work and trouble: I must do this, I must do that, a horde of children and beasts in the fields. The day passes in these nonsense, and I do not find a minute in which I have time to read or study. And all that I learned in the monastery I have forgotten long ago.”

I trembled at these words, but the lady took my hand and said: Our father speaks in this manner out of his humility. He belittles his own value, but he is a virtuous and pious man. He has been a widower for twenty years, and he is raising all his grandchildren. In addition to all his work, he frequently serves the church and attends its masses.

These words reminded me of what Nicetas Stethanos said: (9) In the book of the Philokalia, it is stated that: “A person only estimates the nature of things according to his inner disposition,” meaning that a person’s idea of others comes according to what he is. He also said in another place: “He who has attained the degree of true prayer and love no longer distinguishes between things, nor does he distinguish between good and bad, but loves all people with the same love, and does not judge his brothers, just as the heavenly Father makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous” (Matthew 5:45).

Silence reigned again. A poor man from the shelter was sitting opposite me. He was blind and could neither see nor hear. The master fed him, plucked the bones from the fish, and filled his glass with water. I looked at him closely, and I noticed that his tongue was constantly moving inside his slightly open mouth, which made me wonder if he was saying a prayer. I looked at him even more closely. At the end of dinner an old woman became unwell, had difficulty breathing and began to groan. The master and his wife carried her and put her in their bedroom and laid her on a bed. The lady remained by her side, looking after her, while the priest went to bring the Holy Communion, just in case. The master ordered the carriage to be prepared so that he could quickly go to the city to fetch the doctor. They all dispersed.

I felt a hunger for prayer, and I felt a great need to let it go. Two days had passed without silence and tranquility. I felt as if there was a flood in my heart that was about to overflow and flow through all my limbs, but I held it back, and then I felt a severe pain in my heart, but it was a useful pain as long as it drove me to prayer and silence. At this I understood why those who embraced constant prayer would abandon the world and hide themselves away from the eyes of people. I also understood why the blessed Ezychius said that any talk, no matter how lofty, is nothing but idle chatter if it goes on longer than necessary. I remembered the words of Saint Ephrem the Syrian: (10) (Good speech is silver, but silence is pure gold.) Thinking of all this, I arrived at the inn. Everyone in it was asleep after dinner. I went up to the barn, calmed my turmoil, rested, and prayed a little. When the poor man woke up, I went to the blind man and led him into the garden. We sat down in a secluded corner and began to talk.

- Tell me, for God's sake, for my own good, do you recite the Jesus Prayer?

I have been praying it for a long time without interruption.

What impact does it leave on you?

- I just can't do without her, day or night.

- How did God reveal it to you? Tell me in detail, my dear brother.

- I was a craftsman in this area and I earned my living by tailoring. I used to go to other provinces, passing through the villages, to sew clothes for the peasants. It happened that I stayed for a long time in one of the villages with a peasant to make clothes for all the members of his family. One day, during a holiday, when I had nothing to do, I saw three old books on the board under the icons. I asked: Is there anyone in your house who reads?

They answered me: No one. These books belonged to our uncle who could read and write.

I took one of the books, opened it, and read the following words, which I still remember:

(Continuous prayer is to mention the name of the Lord without interruption, while sitting or standing, while eating or working. In every circumstance, in every place and time, the name of the Lord should be mentioned.)

I thought about what I had read and found that it suited me and suited me, so I began to repeat the prayer while I was sewing, in a low voice, which caused me great joy. Those who lived with me in the estate noticed this and mocked me, saying: Are you a magician, that you mumble without stopping?

I stopped moving my lips, to conceal myself, and I began to recite the prayer by moving my tongue alone, until I repeated this so that my tongue recited it day and night, which brought me profound good.

I continued to work for a long time, and then one day I became blind and could not see anything. All of us in the family have glaucoma. Since I am very poor, our municipality has found me a place in the Tobolsk orphanage, and I am going there, but the two gentlemen here have delayed me because they want to give me a carriage to take me to Tobolsk.

- What is the name of the book you read? Isn't it the Philokalia?

- I really don't know. I didn't look at the title.

So I brought my Philokalite, and in the fourth part I opened the sayings of Patriarch Callistus, which my interlocutor had repeated to me by heart, and I began to read them. The blind man cried out: This is it: read, read, my brother, for it is very beautiful.

When I reached the passage which said: We must pray with the heart, he asked me what this meant and how we should practice it. I told him that everything that concerns the prayer of the heart is taught in detail in this book - the Philokalia - and he insistently asked me to read to him everything that pertains to this subject. I said to him: That is what we will do, when do you decide to go to Tobolsk?

He replied: Right away, if you want.

“Listen, I want to leave tomorrow. We have to go together. As we go, I will read to you everything related to the prayer of the heart, and I will tell you how you can reach your heart and enter it.” He said: “And the carriage?”

“Leave the carriage alone! The distance from here to Tobolsk is only a hundred and fifty leagues, and we will go at a leisurely pace. Walking two on a deserted road is best, and walking is more conducive to reading and talking than to prayer.”

So we agreed. In the evening the master himself came to invite us to dinner. After eating, we told him that we were going away and that we did not need a carriage, because we wanted to read the Philokalia. The master said to us: I liked the Philokalia very much, and I have written a letter asking for it, and have prepared the price for it. I will send the letter and the price to Petersburg on my way to the court, so that the Philokalia will come to me by the first mail that comes.

We set out the next morning, after having thanked the master and his wife profusely for their love and perfect kindness together, for a distance of a league, and then bade each other farewell.

The blind farmer

The blind man and I walked slowly, not covering more than ten or fifteen leagues in a day, and the rest of the time we sat in secluded places and read the Philokalia. I read to him everything that pertained to the prayer of the heart, following the order that the start had assigned me, that is, I began by reading the books of the monk Nicephorus and Gregory of Sinai, and so on. How attentively and zealously he heard all these sayings! How attentively and moved he was! And while he listened to me attentively, he sometimes asked me questions about prayer that my mind could not answer all of them.

After I had finished reading, the blind man asked me to teach him a practical way to reach his heart in the spirit, to introduce the divine name of Jesus Christ into it so that he could thus pray an inner prayer. I said to him: You cannot see at all, of course, but you can imagine in your mind what you saw before you went blind: a man, for example, or something, or a part of your body such as your arm or leg. Can you picture it clearly as if you were looking at it, and can you, despite being blind, direct your sight toward it?

The blind man replied: I can do that.

- So imagine your heart, and turn your eyes as if you are looking at it through your chest, and listen with all your ears how it beats, beat by beat. And when you find yourself accustomed to this, try to match each beat of your heart, while you are still looking at it, with the words of the prayer. That is, with the first beat you say and think: O Lord, and with the second beat: Jesus, and with the third: Christ, and with the fourth: Have mercy on me, and with the fifth: I am a sinner... Repeat this exercise as much as you can, and it will not be difficult for you, because you are ready to accept the prayer of the heart. And after you get used to this, start reciting the Jesus Prayer from your heart at the pace of your breathing. That is, say or think, while inhaling the air: O Lord Jesus Christ, and while exhaling: Have mercy on me, a sinner! If you repeat this for a sufficient period of time, you will quickly feel a slight pain in your heart, and then, little by little, a refreshing warmth will be generated in it. And thus, with God’s help, you will reach the point of doing the prayer inside your heart on a permanent basis. But beware of every imagination and every picture that may form in your mind while you are praying. Cast away all imaginations, for the Fathers advise us to keep our minds free of every imagination while praying, lest we fall into delusions.

The blind man, listening attentively, practiced diligently and eagerly what I said to him, and at night, when we stopped, he spent long hours at this. After five days he felt a great warmth in his heart and an indescribable joy, and he had, in addition, a strong desire to pray without ceasing, which revealed to him the love he had for Jesus Christ. Sometimes he saw at once, but nothing appeared to him, and when it entered his heart it seemed to him that he saw in it the light of a large candle shining, and pouring out and illuminating it completely, so that this light made him see things far away from him, as had happened once.

We were passing through a wood, and he was deep in prayer in silence, when suddenly he said to me: 'What a disaster! The church is on fire and the bell-tower is down!' I said to him: 'Enough of thinking about such empty pictures, it is the temptation of the devil. You must banish all imagination as quickly as possible, for how can you see what is happening in the city? It is still twelve leagues away from us.'

He did as I advised, and fasted and went back to prayer. We reached the city in the evening, and indeed I saw that many houses had been burned, and the bell tower had collapsed—it was built on wooden pillars—and the people around it were talking and marveling that the bell tower had not harmed anyone by its fall. The disaster happened, as I understood, at the time when the blind man was speaking in the forest. And then I heard him say: My vision, according to Rick, was false, but it is true. Should we not thank and love the Lord Jesus Christ, who reveals his graces to sinners, to the blind and to the little-understood? Thank you too, for teaching me inner prayer!

I replied: You want to love Jesus Christ: this is right and necessary, but do not consider ordinary visions as a direct revelation of grace, for this often happens naturally and does not violate the familiar laws of the universe. The human soul is not completely connected with the body, and it can see in the dark, and even distant things, seeing things near. However, we do not stimulate this ability of the soul, but we burden it with the weight of our coarse body or the confusion of our scattered and frivolous thoughts. But if we concentrate our senses and gather them inward, and if we abstract ourselves and distance ourselves from everything around us and sharpen our mind, then the soul returns completely to itself and does with all its strength, and this action of it is natural and normal. The Starts told me that not only people of prayer see, but there are sick people or people with special sensations, who see the light emanating from everything when they are in a dark room and feel the presence of the companion and perceive the thoughts of others. But the immediate effects of God's grace during the prayer of the heart are so sweet that no language can adequately describe them. It is impossible to liken them to anything material, for the sensual world seems lowly when compared with the feelings that grace arouses in the heart.

The blind man listened attentively to these words and became more humble. The prayer was constantly echoing in his heart, causing him indescribable joy. My soul rejoiced at this and thanked the Lord who had enabled me to see this piety in one of His righteous servants.

We finally reached Tobolsk, where I took him to the shelter, and after bidding him farewell as a friend, I went back on my way alone.

I walked for a month without hurrying, and felt the great benefit and goodness of the living examples. Often I read the Philokalia, checking in it the truth of what I had said to the blind man. It was a lesson that inflamed me with zeal and increased my devotion to the Lord and my love for Him. The prayer of my heart made me so happy that I thought there was nothing better on earth, and I wondered how the sanctuary of the Kingdom of Heaven could surpass it. The outer world also appeared to me in a beautiful appearance, and everything in it invited me to love and praise God. People, trees, plants, animals, everything seemed close to me. Everywhere I found the image of the name of Jesus Christ. Sometimes I felt so light that I thought I had no body left and thought I was flying in the air. At other times I entered deeply into myself, saw within me clearly, and admired that wonderful structure which is the human body. At other times I felt so joyful as if I had become a king. I was hoping that God, amidst all these reasons for happiness, would allow me to die as quickly as possible, so that my praise and thanks to Him might be poured out at His feet in the world of the spirit.

Perhaps I enjoyed these feelings more than I should have, or perhaps God willed it, and after a while something like fear and trembling came over my heart. I wondered: Is this a new calamity or a trial like the one I suffered because of the girl I taught the Jesus Prayer in church? Worries weighed down on me like clouds, and I remembered what the blessed John, Bishop of Carpathos, had said, that whoever teaches prayer is subjected to insult and shame, and endures hardships and trials for the sake of those whom he has spiritually helped. After I had fought these thoughts, I immersed myself in prayer, which had dispelled and dispelled them, and I felt myself becoming stronger and more determined, so I said to myself: Let God’s will be done! I am ready to endure all that will come from Jesus Christ to atone for my pride and hardness of heart. In any case, I have no merit in what I did, for all those to whom I recently revealed the secrets of inner prayer were those who had been prepared beforehand, prepared by the wondrous act of God before they met with me. This thought calmed my spirit, and made me walk happier than before, my heart overflowing with prayer and my heart manifesting itself with joy. The weather remained rainy for two days, during which the road was muddy, so that I could not get out of its ruts and quagmires. I walked through the deserted plains, and did not come across an inhabited place after a journey of fifteen leagues. At last, in the evening, I saw an inn on the road, and I was glad: I could at least rest there and pass the night. As for the morrow, God willing!... perhaps the weather would improve.

Post office

As I approached the place, I saw an old man wearing a soldier's coat. He was sitting on the slope in front of the hotel. I thought he was drunk, so I greeted him and said: Can I ask someone to let me spend the night here? The old man cried out: Who can let you in but me? I am the commander here. I am the superintendent of the post office, for here is the station for changing horses and resting.

- Allow me then, sir, to spend the night with you.

- Do you have a passport at least? Show me your papers! I handed him my passport. And he, with the passport in his hand, started shouting: Where is your passport?

I replied: It is with you, in your hand.

- Okay! Let's go inside the house. He put on his glasses and looked at my passport and then said: All this, I see, is in order, you can stay here. See? I'm a good person. Listen, I'll bring you a glass of wine. I replied: I never drink!

“No problem! But at least have dinner with us!” He sat down to eat with the cook. There was a young woman, who had also drunk quite a bit of wine. She sat down with them. They kept quarreling and blaming each other while we were eating, and at last it developed into a real quarrel. The overseer went to sleep in the pantry, and the cook stayed up washing the plates and spoons, cursing and swearing at her companion.

I was still sitting, and I realized that she would not calm down for a short time, so I said to her: Where can I sleep, sister? I am tired from all the walking.

- Wait a minute! I'll make you a bed, uncle.

I put a bank next to the one fixed under the front window and spread a felt blanket and a pillow over them. I lay down and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. After this the cook walked to and fro in the hall for a long time, and at last she finished her work, turned out the light, and came over to me. Suddenly the whole window in the corner of the front collapsed with a terrible noise: the frame, the glass, the temples, all shattered, and at the same moment we heard groans, screams, uproar, and a struggle outside. The woman ran into the middle of the room in her terror and fell to the floor. As for me, I jumped out of bed, thinking that the ground had opened up beneath me. Suddenly I saw two horse-drawn men carrying into the carriage a man whose face was covered in blood so much that I could not see his face, which increased my anxiety. The man was the official postman, and he had to change horses here. But the chariot driver did not direct the horses properly to enter the rest house, so the chariot wall broke the window, and there was a hole in front of the chariot, so the vehicle overturned and the Messenger's head was injured on a sharpened stake at the bottom of the slope. The Messenger asked for some water and alcohol to wash his wound, then he wetted it with sweat and drank a cup of it and called: Bring me the horses!

So I approached him and said: How can you travel while you are in this condition? He replied: The king's messenger has no room for him to be sick. And he left.

The two drivers dragged the woman to a corner of the room, near the heater, and covered her with a mat. One of them said: It's fear that has made her lose her mind.

As for the station master, he poured some wine into his drinking glass and then went back to sleep, and I was left alone.

The woman got up after a while and walked from one end of the room to the other as if she were sleepwalking, then she left the post office building. I prayed and fell asleep a little before dawn, feeling tired.

In the morning, I said goodbye to the stationmaster and walked on the road, raising my prayers with faith, hope and thanks to the Father of mercies and comfort, who had saved me from such a great evil.

Six years have passed since this incident… One day, I passed by a convent, and entered its church to pray. After the prayer, the abbess received me with kindness and love, and offered me tea. Someone told her that there were passing guests, so she excused herself and went to meet them, leaving me with the nuns who were staying at the service. My curiosity led me to ask one of them, and I saw her humbly pouring the tea: Have you been in this convent for a long time, sister?

She replied: Five years. I was not of sound mind when they brought me to this place, but God had mercy on me. The Mother Superior made me live with her in her room, and I made my vows at her hands. I asked her: How did you lose your mind?

- From the intensity of fear. I was working in a post office and while I was sleeping, one night, the horses of the postal carriage broke one of the windows, and I went crazy from the intense terror I felt. My family took me to many holy places for a year, but I was only cured here.

I was inwardly delighted to hear these words and glorified God who turns all things to our good.

village priest

I said, addressing my spiritual father: Many other things happened to me. And if I wanted to recount everything that happened to me in a continuous sequence, it would take me more than three days. I will tell you another incident, if you want.

One sunny summer day, at some distance from the road, I saw a cemetery, or rather a parish center, that is, a church with houses for those who ministered in it, and a graveyard. The bells were ringing for prayer, so I hastened my steps towards the church. The people of the neighborhood were also going there. But many of them were lying on the grass, lying down before they reached the church. When they saw me hurrying, they said to me: Do not hurry! You have plenty of time. The prayer here is very slow, the priest is sick, and he is slow in his prayers.

Indeed, the Mass was not prayed quickly. The priest, a young man, but thin and pale, served the Mass very slowly, with reverence and sensitivity. At the end of the prayer, he gave an eloquent sermon on the means by which man can obtain the love of God.

After the prayer, the priest invited me to eat at his house. While eating, I said to him: You, Father, serve the Mass with great piety, but also very slowly.

He replied: True! This never pleases my parishioners, and sometimes the worshippers complain. But I have a purpose behind this, as I like to contemplate every word of the Divine Liturgy and embellish it before chanting it. Words are worthless if they are devoid of this inner feeling, neither for the chanter nor for the listeners. What is important in prayer is to live it from within, to understand it and be aware of it. Then he added: How little people care about the inner life! Because they do not want to, they do not care about inner spiritual enlightenment.

I asked him again: But how can we reach it?... Reaching it is very difficult!

– No! Not at all! In order to attain spiritual enlightenment, to become a spiritual inner man, one must simply choose a text from the Bible and concentrate on it for as long as possible. In this way one reveals the enlightenment of the intellect. And in order to pray, one must do the same. If you want your prayer to be pure, upright, and beneficial, choose a short prayer, consisting of a few short words, but it must be eloquent, and repeat it at length and often. This is how one becomes accustomed to praying.

I liked this priest's teaching very much because it was practical, simple, profound and wise at the same time. I thanked God in secret for making me know one of the true shepherds of His Church.

The priest said to me when we had finished eating: Take some rest, for I must read the Word of God and prepare my sermon for tomorrow.

So I went into the kitchen. There was only an old cook, her back bent and stooped, coughing in a corner. I sat down under the light, took the Philokalia out of my bag, and began to read to myself in a low voice. After a few moments I realized that the old woman sitting in the corner was reciting the Jesus Prayer without stopping, and I was delighted to hear the name of the Holy Lord mentioned, and I said to her: It is good of you, aunt, to recite the prayer like this! It is the best thing we can do and the most in accordance with the teachings of Christ!

She replied: Yes, uncle! It is my consolation in this afterlife. May God have mercy on me!

-Has it been a long time since you prayed like this?

- Since my youth, uncle. I cannot live without it, for the Jesus Prayer has saved me from misfortunes and death.

- How so?... Please tell me for the sake of God and the powerful prayer of Jesus.

I put the Philokalia back in my bag, sat down beside the woman, and began her story. She said:

(I was a beautiful young woman. My family proposed to me, and on the wedding night my fiancé was about to enter our house, when suddenly - and he had only ten steps left to reach our house - he fell to the ground, lifeless.

This frightened me so much that I resolved to remain a virgin and go to the holy places and pray there. However, I was afraid to walk the paths alone, lest some evildoer might assault me, considering my youth. An old woman, who had lived a long life of wandering, taught me that we should recite the Jesus Prayer without ceasing, and she reassured me, emphasizing that this prayer would protect me from all the troubles of the road. I believed what she said and did what she advised me, and nothing bad ever happened to me, even in remote areas. During that time, my family would provide me with money if I needed it.

Then I fell ill in my old age, but the priest here is a man of God who is fortunately charitable, and he provides me with food and supports me.

I listened to the woman's talk with pleasure and did not know how to thank the Lord for this day that revealed sublime models of constructive life.

After asking that pious and holy priest to bless me, I continued on my way, filled with joy and happiness.

On the road to Kazan

Not long ago, while passing through the Kazan province to come here, I had the opportunity to learn the effects and effects of the Jesus Prayer. Even for those who practice it inattentively, it is the surest and quickest means to spiritual goodness.

One evening I had to stop in one of the Tatar villages. As I entered the only street of the village, I saw a cart with a Russian driver, and the horses were untied and grazing beside the cart. I was delighted and decided to ask if I would be allowed to spend the night in this house, where I had at least found Christians. I approached and asked the driver who he was taking with him. He replied that his teacher was traveling from Kazan to the Crimea. While I was talking to the driver, the master pulled back the leather curtain of the gate, looked at me and said: I will spend the night here, but I will not enter a Tatar house because their houses are dirty and filthy, so you see that I am determined to sleep in the cart.

After a while the gentleman went out for a short walk - it was a pleasant evening - and we talked. We touched on many subjects, of which I remember what my interlocutor said to me approximately as follows:

(I served in the Imperial Navy as a ship captain until I was sixty-five. But in my old age I fell ill with gout, and now I am retired in the Crimea, on my wife's property. I was almost always ill. My wife was fond of receptions and fond of playing cards. She ended up getting tired of living so long with a sick man, and went to Kazan, to our daughter who was married there to a civil servant. My wife took everything with her, even the servants, and left me as a private servant a boy of eight years old, who was Fleuni.

I lived thus alone for three years. The boy was resourceful: he would tidy my room, light a fire, cook me grits, and heat the samovar. But at the same time he was violent and full of life. He would run, shout, play, and thrash about wherever he could, which would annoy me greatly. Because of my illness and idleness, I loved to read spiritual books. I had an excellent book by Gregory Palamas on the Jesus Prayer. I read it almost constantly, and I would say the prayer a little. The noise the little boy made would repel and annoy me. However, no matter what measures I took or how much I punished him, he would not stop fooling around and disturbing my home. I had to find a way out, and I finally found one: the only way to avoid annoying me was to force him to sit on a small chair in my room, ordering him to repeat the Jesus Prayer without interruption. This at first offended him to the point of being silent to avoid it.

But I put some bars in my room to make him obey my orders. When he was praying, I would read quietly or listen to what he said. But as soon as he poured, I would show him the sticks, and he would go back to praying, fearing that he would be beaten. This was very good for me, for at last peace was established in my house. I noticed, after a short time, that there was no longer any need for the sticks, for the boy now obeyed my orders with greater joy and zeal. Indeed, his nature changed completely after that, and he became pleasant and calm, and did his housework much better than before. This gave me great satisfaction and joy, and I gave the boy great freedom in his conduct. Do you know what the result was? The boy became so accustomed to the prayer that he repeated it without interruption, without the least compulsion on my part. When I told him about it, he replied that he had an irresistible desire to recite the prayer.

-How do you feel?

- I don't have a special feeling... but I feel happy while I am praying.

What do you mean by cheerfulness?

- I don't know how to explain it to you, sir...

-Are you feeling fun?

- Yes... with fun.

He was twelve years old when the Crimean War broke out. I went to Kazan and took him with me to my daughter's house, where we put him in the kitchen with the rest of the servants. He was miserable and sad because they spent their time playing games with each other and also mocking him, which prevented him from paying attention to prayer. He remained in this condition for three months... Then he came to me one day and said:

- I'm going home, I can't stand living here with all this noise around me.

- How can you come all this way alone in the harsh winter?... Wait until I get back and you will accompany me.

But the child disappeared the next day. We sent servants to look for him in all directions, but in vain. Then one day a letter came to me from the Crimea: the guards of the house there were telling me that on the fourth of April - and it was Monday the Ba'oth (11)“They found the boy dead in the house, and it was deserted. He was lying on the floor in my room, his hands crossed over his chest. His little hat was under his head, and he had no clothes to warm him except the shirt that was always on his body to protect him from the cold, and he had fled with it. He was buried in the clothes he was found in, in my garden.”

When I heard this news, I was astonished at the speed with which the child had reached there. He had gone on the twenty-fourth of February and was found on the fourth of April. That is, he had covered a distance of three thousand leagues in one month! The imagination could hardly traverse such a distance in such a short time: a hundred leagues in a day! The difficulty of the journey was made all the more difficult by the fact that the boy was wearing light clothes, had no identity papers, and had not a penny in his pocket. Let us suppose that he had found a carriage to travel with: this would only have been by the will of God.

The master concluded his speech by saying: Thus my little servant tasted the fruits of prayer, but I, even at the end of my life, did not attain the blessings of loftiness and sublimity that he attained.

I said to the Master then: I know the excellent book of Gregory Palamas which I have read. But the research in it is about oral prayer in particular. You should read that book called (Philokalia), in it you will find everything related to the prayer of Jesus in the spirit and heart and lessons and teachings.

At the same time I showed him my Philokalia. He accepted my advice with such joy that he told me he would buy the book.

I said to myself: Oh God! What wonderful manifestations of divine power are revealed in this prayer! How profound and full of lessons this man told me: The boy learned to pray out of fear of sticks, and yet it led him to happiness. Are not the misfortunes and sorrows that we encounter on the path of prayer, God’s sticks? So why fear when God’s hand shows us sticks? He is filled with infinite love for us, and these sticks teach us to pray with greater vigor and lead us to indescribable joys.

When I had finished these talks and stories, I said to my spiritual father: Forgive me for God's sake, for I have chattered at length. The Church Fathers say that talk - even if it is spiritual - is nothing but vain if it goes on longer than it should. It is time for me to go to the one who will accompany me on my way to Jerusalem. Pray for me, a wretched sinner, that God in His mercy may make my path successful and make my steps easy.

He replied: I sincerely hope so, dear brother in the Lord. May the precious grace of God light the way before you, and accompany you on your journey, as the angel Raphael walked with Tobias!

(1) See: Evagrius of Pontus (died 399): (A Treatise on Prayer). (When the mind has attained to true, pure prayer, the demons no longer approach it from the left but from the right. They present to it an imaginary vision of God, or a sight pleasing to the senses, in a way that makes it think that it has completely achieved the goal of prayer…)

(2) John Climacus (579-648), also called John the Sinaite, is one of the great spiritual fathers. He spent all his life in the desert on the slopes of the Holy Mountain, except for the few years during which he supervised the administration of Saint Catherine's Monastery in Sinai. His most famous work is (The Ladder of Paradise) (or the Ladder of Virtues), a book that is very eloquent about the stages of the spiritual life. In this (Ladder of Paradise) we find the first reference to (the Jesus Prayer): (Let the Jesus Prayer and your breathing be one thing and you will know the fruit of silence and solitude). This book was published in a new Arabic translation by the monastic order of the Monastery of Saint George al-Harf by Al-Nour Publications (1980).

(3) His secular name was Joachim Kurlenko. He was born in 1705 and died in 1754. He became a monk at the age of eighteen and left several works, including (The Battle of the Seven Sins from the Seven Virtues) published in Kiev in 1892.

(4) The person who is carried from the baptismal font by the godfather or godmother

(5) Archbishop of Caesarea of Cappadocia, one of the Three Moons and one of the great fathers. He left many works on theology, monastic life and commentaries on the Holy Bible (330-379).

(6) Maximus the Confessor (c. 580-662), the greatest Byzantine theologian of the 7th century. He was first a confidant of the Emperor Heraclius, then a monk at the monastery of Chrysopolis (near Constantinople) and became its abbot. He fought heresies and was forced to retire to North Africa and Rome. He was arrested in 653, brought back to Byzantium and tortured for his faith. He ended his life in exile and forgotten in a monastery. He commented on the treatise of Dionysius the Areopagite, stripping his teaching of all traces of Neoplatonism.

(7) Also called Peter Mansour, scholars differ on the date of his life. Some say he was the Bishop of Damascus around 775 and was martyred in Arabia. Others say he lived in the eleventh century.

(8) He was born in Damascus around 672 to a family of the city's nobles who were close to Caliph Yazid. He assumed the presidency of the Shura Council. However, this did not prevent him from contributing to the defense of the Orthodox faith against heretics. Then he left the world and became a monk in the Monastery of Saint Saba in Palestine, where God took him around the year 749. He wrote many theological works that left a profound impact on later generations.

(9) He was a Byzantine monk from the Sotdeion Monastery who lived during the reign of Patriarch Michael Crolarius of Constantinople and contributed to the theological debate that took place between East and West during the Great Schism in the early eleventh century.

(10) Saint Ephrem the Syrian (306?-373) is one of the teachers of the Church and one of the oldest Syrian writers. He was born in Nineveh (Nisibis) to pagan parents and was baptized by Bishop Jacob, where he composed many poems and wrote commentaries on the Holy Bible. He retired to Edessa where he died on June 9, 373. His influence was widespread, as evidenced by the many translations of his works into Greek, Arabic and Armenian. Gregory of Nyssa knew these works and wrote an elegy for their author. He is primarily a commentator on the Holy Bible, and rarely indulges in theological speculations. One of his favorite topics of sermons is the judgment.

(11) Easter Monday. This helps us to determine the date of the event: in the Eastern calendar between 1850 and 1870 there was no year in which Easter fell on the third of Nisan except 1860.