In the past, on the feast of Theophany, we used to bless houses. One year I went as well and was blessing homes. I would knock on the doors of the apartments; they would open, and I would go in chanting, “When You, O Lord, were baptized in the Jordan…”
As
I was walking along Maizonos Street, I saw an iron door. I opened it and went
into the courtyard, which was full of mandarin, orange, and lemon trees, and I
proceeded to the staircase. It was an external staircase that went up, with a
basement below. I went up the stairs, knocked on the door, and a lady appeared.
As soon as she opened, I began, as was my custom, “When You, O Lord, were
baptized in the Jordan…” She stopped me abruptly. Meanwhile, hearing me, girls
began coming out of the rooms on the right and left of the corridor.
“I
understood — I have ended up in a brothel,” I said to myself. The woman stepped
in front of me to block me.
“Leave,”
she said to me. “These women are not allowed to kiss the Cross. Let me kiss the
Cross and then leave, please.”
I
then took on a serious and reproving tone and said to her:
“I
cannot leave! I am a priest; I cannot leave! I came here to bless.”
“Yes,
but these women are not allowed to kiss the Cross.”
“But
we do not know whether it is proper for these women to kiss the Cross — or for
you. Because if God were to ask me and require me to say who is worthy to kiss
the Cross, the girls or you, I might say: ‘The girls are worthy to kiss it, and
not you. Their souls are better than yours.’”
At
that moment she blushed slightly. Then I said to her:
“Let
the girls come and kiss the Cross.”
I
motioned for them to come closer. And I chanted “When You, O Lord, were
baptized in the Jordan…” more melodiously than before, because I felt great joy
within me that God had arranged things so that I could go and bless these souls
as well.
They
all kissed the Cross. They were all well-groomed, wearing colorful skirts, and
so on. And I said to them:
“My
children, many years to you. God loves us all. He is very good and ‘makes His
rain fall on the just and the unjust.’ We all have the same Father, and God cares
for all of us. We only need to take care to know Him, to love Him as well, and
to become good. Love Him, and you will see how happy you will be.”
They
looked at me with astonishment. Something touched their weary, suffering souls.
“At
the end,” I said to them, “I am glad that God made me worthy to come today and
bless you. Many years to you!”
“Many
years to you,” they replied, and I left.
From
the book:
G.
Porphyrios, Life and Teachings,
Holy Monastery
of Chrysopigi, Chania
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