A proven lover of the desert was the blessed Russian hieromonk
Father Serapios, who visited the great hesychast and recluse Kallinikos in
1912-13, to ask his blessing that he might depart and join those athletes who contended
in the field of the desert.
Elder Kallinikos, an experienced teacher of the Jesus Prayer, described to the
Russian monk the dangers, traps and delusions which the enemy of our salvation
uses to attack those who live in seclusion, especially those without a
spiritual guide. But when he saw Father Serapion's wounded heart, burning with
divine desire, he gave in, on condition that he could be his guide. Father
Serapios celebrated the liturgy in St. Gerasimos' chapel and then, with the
prayers tid blessing of his coach and elder Kallinikos, left to go toward
Athos' peak.
Twelve years passed since that meeting. Then one night, around
midnight, the great hesychast's disciple came to his teacher's remote hut and
knocked on the door. Elder Kallinikos, thinking that the knock might be a
delusion from the devil, asked, before he opened the door, for the Symbol of
Faith to be recited. Father Serapios obeyed, even adding the "Our
Father" and the "One is Holy, One is the Lord Jesus Christ, to the
glory of God the Father." At this, Elder Kallinikos opened the door, threw
his arms around him and asked, "Where have you been all these years, my
brother? Believe me, I thought you were lost, although I never stopped praying
for you. Where did you stay? What was your food?"
"Holy Father," replied Father Serapios in a weak voice, "after
you blessed me, I went to the peak
of Athos. I stayed three
days and nights, but not being able to endure the cold, I went to Panagia.1 I
tried to stay there, but I could not find my beloved hesychia, because many
pilgrims visited there.
"A bit farther down, I discovered a cave. Not even the
shepherds of Lavra when herding their sheep could see me there, because I hung
an old cassock over the cave's opening. I ate the things I found in the forest:
chestnuts, shoots, acorns, roots and bulbs. I drew water from the well near
Panagia's hut. Day and night my soul was filled with ineffable bliss coming
from the Jesus Prayer and visions.
"I lived constantly contemplating our God's mysteries. Forgive
me, my elder, you know better than I what it is like, that light which warms up
and illuminates all within me. I desired nothing else. Paradise
was there. I lacked only one thing. The Holy Communion. And that is why I have finally
come here: to receive your blessing; for the time of my repose is near, and I
do not want to depart without the Holy Mysteries."
That very day the Divine Liturgy was served, and they communicated. Afterwards
the disciple had a bit of dry bread and greens together with his teacher and
guide. Thus full of bliss, Father Serapios departed for his beloved desert.
The great hesychastic father Daniel the Hosiopetritan, after the
daily liturgy would withdraw into his cell for an hour of silence. It was an
hour dedicated to tears and compunction. He would always say that "The
lantern illuminates the world around it, but buries its mouth . . . ."
There have been many ascetic fathers on the Holy Mountain
who were dedicated totally to prayer, vision, and practising all the virtues.
That is why they received divine consolations from heaven, illuminations from
above. Such was the Romanian hermit Theophylaktos, who came from Vatopedi to
St. Basil's desert with three monks under obedience to him. Frequently he
stayed in caves, in which it was possible to attain greater hesychia, clearer
watchfulness of mind, and higher exaltation of soul. He used to say that in one
of the caves of this desert, the idolaters who had inhabited the Athonite
peninsula prior to the monks' arrival had hidden a statue which had once stood
on the peak of Mount Athos and served as a lighthouse. There was a large
diamond on the statue's head which was used as a sort of lamp to guide
travelers by sea.
At one time Theophylaktos, who prayed unceasingly, did not go to the cave as
was his usual habit. He stayed in his hut by himself instead. During his prayer
an angel of the Lord appeared and conversed with him. Coming back from
accomplishing a task which had been assigned to him, one of the elder's monks in
obedience passed by the hut and heard a discussion. He wondered who the visitor
was to whom his elder was talking. With curiosity he entered, calling
"Elder! are you here?" At that very moment the angel disappeared.
"O, my son," the elder sadly replied, he who was such a great runner
in the heavenly race. "I wish you had not come .... I have lost a great
blessing." And he explained the visitation.
He is the same father who took care of the wounded roader, and his face shone
with light shortly before his falling asleep.
I once had the blessing of meeting the elder Christodoulos, who had
been a monk under obedience to the great neptic2 father of Katounakia,
Kallinikos the Recluse. In the course of one day's polite hospitality to me,
the unworthy, in his remote hermitage, Father Christodoulos told me much about
his ever memorable elder, some of which is included in the third edition of
Contemporary Agioritan Profiles.
Elder Kallinikos was a teacher of the Jesus Prayer and visions who
for fifty-five years had confined himself within the limits of his hut, which
measured twenty metres in all.
That is why he was called a recluse. He was born in 1853 and reposed in 1930.
A friend and lover of hesychia, of vigilance and of noetic3 prayer was
Dionysios from Cyprus, who
as an ascetic remained in Kafsokalyvia's skete and then returned to
Stavrovouniou in Cyprus
in 1875, where he became the father of many spiritual children.
There is a prayerful, eremitic breeze which often blows over the blessed
Katounakia. There many years ago I met the hesychastic elder Anthimos. He
struggled in ascesis in a hut above where the Danielites were located. He was a
man of silence. Whenever he did talk, he almost always spoke about the
ceaseless prayer of the heart, noetic prayer. "The Jesus Prayer deifies
man, while praying to the Theotokos prepares one for deification," he used
to say.
"All Holy Mother of God, help me. My blessed Panagia . .
." a monk would say, and his voice echoed sweetly from the depths of his
heart as he walked on the paths of St. Anne's skete. "We place all our
hope in her, and we are consoled by her," he continued. "She is our
mother, our heart's salvation. Otherwise we are following a route which we do
not know where it is leading."
