Saint Porphyrios entitled “Wounded by Love.”

Dear  People,

It has been a long time since I shared with you some of the profound wisdom of the Living Church of God, the Holy Orthodox Church.  I have been reading a book about Saint Porphyrios entitled “Wounded by Love.”  The book is filled with such pearls of wisdom that I have found it profoundly beneficial to my soul especially during my time of sickness.  Every time I read it, something new reveals itself to me as if I had never read it before.   It is like the Holy Bible. We read it again and again and every time, without fail, we always learn something new about the teachings of Jesus Christ. 

You know that I was blessed to translate three books from the Greek to the English about the life and teachings of Saint Porphyrios. These books are entitled “Elder Porphyrios, Testimonies and experiences,” “The Divine Flame Elder Porphyrios Lit In My Heart,” and “Miraculous Occurrences and Counsels of Elder Porphyrios.”   In translating these books, I have come to know a great deal about this holy man.  But in reading “Wounded by Love,” the measure of knowledge I have learned about this holy man is way beyond anything that I learned from translating three books about this Saint.

You should know that “the contents of this book come from an archive of notes and recordings compiled by two women who knew Elder Porphyrios for a period of more than three decades.  Throughout this time they kept a record of his conversations, his reminiscences and his words of spiritual guidance.  When, ten years after the Elder’s death, these two women became nuns at the convent of Chrysopigi in Chania, Crete, the archive was placed at the disposal of the convent.

“Under the guidance of the abbess of the community, Mother Theoxeni, the material that had been collected was carefully transcribed and edited in such a way as to allow Elder Porphyrios to speak for himself.  The prime concern was to present the words exactly as they were spoken, preserving their immediacy and authenticity.  At the same time, however, the material often, collected at very diverse times and in different contexts, was arranged into chapters according to the subject matter in order to make it more accessible.”

   In reading this excerpt from this unique book, give special attention to the role of monastic life and its complete surrender to the will of Jesus Christ.  Although we are not monastics in the world, we should zero in on the real purpose of living in this world as taught to us by these monks and nuns.   These men and women give their total earthly life to the will of Jesus Christ.  In reading this excerpt, pay special attention to the Elder Porphyrios receiving Divine Grace while in the presence of Old Dimas, a Russian hermit who spent his whole life on the Holy Mountain in seclusion.  The experience of Elder Porphyrios is very similar to that experienced by St. Seraphim of Sarov in the Russian wilderness.  I pray that this presentation will be a great blessing to each and every one of us Orthodox Christians.

Compiled by Fr. Costas J. Simones, August 27, 2018, Waterford, CT, USA, 860-460-9089.  Cjsimones300@gmail.com

 We begin the compilation of the Elder Porphyrios by starting with the following: “The Grace possessed by that holy man radiated into my own soul too. In the Kyriakon (the main Church) where I went for vigils and other services I got to know holy men.  Listen and I will tell you about a hidden Saint.  Up above our hermitage, very high up, there was a Russian, Old Dimas, who lived alone in a primitive hovel.  He was exceedingly devout.  Old Dimas remained virtually unknown throughout his life.  No one mentions his name or speaks of his charismatic gifts.  Think of what it meant for him to leave Russia!  Who knows how long his journey took. He left everything behind to come to the end of the earth, to Kavsokalyvia (the Elder’s Monastery) and there he spent his whole life.  And he died unknown.  He was no egotist.  On the contrary, he was a fierce combatant.  He had no one with whom to share his experiences and to whom he could say, ‘I did five hundred prostrations today and this is what I felt.’  He was a closeted combatant. 

“Yes indeed, that is a perfect thing, perfect and selfless—selflessness, worship, holiness, face to face, without any obsequiousness towards men:  the servant before the Master.  Nothing else at all: no abbot, no ‘well done,’ no ‘why is this thus?  I saw a living Saint. Yes, an unknown Saint, poor and disdained.  Who knows when he died?  After how many days, or even months if it were wintertime, would we learn of it?  Who would go all the way up there to his rude stone hovel?    No one saw him.  Often those hermits would be found two or three months after their repose. 

“The outpouring and superabundance of Grace flowed over my pitiful self when I saw old Dimas making prostrations and dissolving in tears in his prayer in the Kyriakon.  With the prostrations of that man, Grace overshadowed him so profusely that it radiated out even over me. It was then that the richness of Grace was released out even over me.   Certainly the Grace existed before with the love I had for my dear elder.  But it was then that I sensed the Grace with exceptional intensity.  Let me tell you how it happened.

“One morning at about half past three I went to the Kyriakon, to the Holy Trinity Church, for the service.  It was still early.  The simantron (a device used by monks being called to prayer) had not yet sounded.   No one was in the Church.  I sat in the narthex beneath a stairway.  I was hidden from sight and was praying.  All of a sudden the outer Church door opened and in walked a tall elderly monk.  It was Old Dimas.  As soon as he entered he looked around and saw no one.  So then, holding a large prayer rope, he started to make rhythmic prostrations, rapid and numerous, and at the same time he repeated continuously. ‘Lord, Jesus Christ, have mercy on me. Most Holy Theotokos save us.’  After a short time he fell into ecstasy.  I cannot, I simply cannot find words to describe to you his behavior before God—motions of love and worship, motions of divine craving, of divine love and devotion.  I saw him standing opening out his arms in the form of a Cross, like Moses at the Red Sea, and he made a sound: ‘Ouoouououou! What was that?  He was bathed in Grace. He was enveloped with light. That was it! Immediately his prayer was communicated to me.  Immediately I entered into the atmosphere surrounding him.  He hadn’t seen me. Listen. I was deeply moved and I started to shed tears.  The Grace of God then came upon my pitiful and worthless self. How can I describe it for you?  He transmitted the Grace of God to me.   The Grace that that Saint possessed radiated into my soul also.  He transmitted to me his spiritual gifts of Grace.

“So Old Dimas had fallen into ecstasy.  It happened without his willing it.  He couldn’t control his experience.  That’s not right either, what I’m saying, I can’t express it.  It is like being seized by God, divine rapture.  These things cannot be explained.  They can’t be explained at all, and if you explain them you fall very wide of the mark.  No, they cannot be explained nor can they be rendered in books, nor can they be made comprehensible.  You must be worthy to understand them.

“Old Dimas translated to me the Grace of prayer and of clear sight.

“At four o’clock the bells rang.  As soon as he heard the bells, Old Dimas made a few more prostrations and stopped praying.  He sat on the low stone wall—I think there was a stone wall built in the narthex—and in came Makarouda—that was their affectionate name for Makarios. He was nimble and soft spoken. He was a little angel. How well he lit the oil-lamps!  How well he lit the chandelier; and how well be snuffed out the candles again, one by one!  How well he made his prostrations as he asked forgiveness right and left to take the service books in order to intone the words for the chanters.  How I loved him! He deserved to be loved, because he had the Grace of God.

“So Makarios, Makaroudas, entered the main Church.  Old Dimas followed him, opened the door, and entered also. He stood and arranged himself in his stall, thinking that no one had seen him.  I, too, concealed by the shadow of the stairway, stealthily and gingerly entered the main Church.  I went and venerated the icon of the Holy Trinity and returned and stood to one side.  At the invitation of the the priest ‘With the fear of God’ many of the fathers received Holy Communion.  I, too, made a prostration and received Holy Communion.  From the moment that I received Holy Communion I was suddenly overcome by intense joy and enthusiasm.

“After the service I went into the forest alone, full of joy and exaltation.  Madness!  As I walked towards the hermitage I silently repeated the prayers of Thanksgiving.  I ran through the forest passionately, jumping for joy and stretching my arms out wide in enthusiasm and I shouted aloud, ‘Glory to You, O God!  Glory to you O God!  Yes, my arms remained stretched out rigid, like a piece of wood and my body formed the shape of a Cross.  If you had seen me from behind, you would have seen a Cross.  My head was lifted up to the sky and my chest was expanded along with my outstretched arms ready to take off for the heavens.  My heart wanted to fly. What I am telling you is true.  I experienced it.  How long I remained in this state I don’t know. When I came to, I lowered my arms and walked on silently with tears still in my eyes.

“I arrived at the hermitage.  I didn’t eat anything as I usually did. I couldn’t speak.  I went to the chapel, but I didn’t sing anything—none of the hymns of contrition that I usually said.  I sat in my stall and repeated the ‘Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.’  I continued in that state, but somewhat more calmly.   Emotion was choking me.  I dissolved into tears.  They poured effortlessly from my eyes on their own.  I didn’t want them, but it was emotion at the visitation of God.  The tears did not stop until the evening.  I couldn’t sing or think or speak.  And if anyone else had been there I wouldn’t have spoken to them.  I would have gone away to be on my own.

“One thing is certain Old Dimas transmitted to me the Grace of prayer and of clear sight at the time when he himself was praying in the narthex of the Holy Trinity Church, the Katholikon of Kavsokalyvia.  What happened to me was something I had never thought of, neither had I ever desired it, nor expected it.  My elders had never spoken to me of these gifts of Grace.  That was their way.  They didn’t teach me with words, only with their way of life.  When I read the lives of the saints and ascetics I saw the gifts that God gave them.    Believe me; I never thought that I would receive some Grace from God.  It never crossed my mind.  And that which I had never thought of appeared suddenly and I never gave any importance to it.

“In the evening of the same day I went out of the Church and sat on the low wall looking out to sea.  It was approaching the time when my elders usually returned.  While I was looking to see if they were coming, I saw them suddenly appear.  I saw them descending some marble steps.  But that place was far away, and I shouldn’t normally have been able to see it.  I saw them by the Grace of God.  I was filled with enthusiasm.  It was the first time this had happened to me.  I jumped up and ran to meet them. I took their backpacks.

‘How did you know we were coming”?’ asked the elder.  I didn’t reply.  But when we arrived at the hermitage I approached my father confessor, Father Panteleimon and secretly and out of the hearing of Father Ioannikios I said to him. ‘I didn’t know how to explain this to you, but when you were on the other side of the hill I saw you loaded with your backpacks and I ran to meet you.  The hill was like a pane of glass and I saw you on the other side.’  ‘All right, all right,’ said the elder, ‘don’t give any importance to these things, and don’t tell anyone, because the evil one is watching.’

“I lived among the stars, in infinity, in heaven.

“The gift of clear sight, as I have told you, was something I had never desired. Nor, when I received it, did I attempt to increase it or cultivate it. I gave no importance to it. Neither have I ever asked, nor did I ask God to reveal something to me, because I believe that is counter to His will.  But after the experience with Old Dimas I changed completely.  My life became all joy and exaltation.  I lived among the stars, in infinity, in heaven.  I wasn’t like that previously.

“From the moment I experienced the Grace of God all the gifts were multiplied. I became sharp witted. I learned the Trinitarian canons, the Canon of Jesus and other canons.  Simply on their being read and sung in the Church I learned them by heart.  I recited the Psalter by heart.  I took care with some psalms that have similar words so that I didn’t mix them up. I genuinely changed.   I ‘saw’ lots of things, but I didn’t speak, that is, I wasn’t given the right to say anything.  I wasn’t allowed to speak.  I saw everything, I registered everything, I knew everything.  From my joy I no longer walked on the earth.  My sense of smell was opened and I smelled everything, my eyes were opened and my ears were opened.  I recognized things from far away.  I distinguished the animals and the birds.  From the sound of the call I knew if it was a blackbird or a sparrow, a finch or a nightingale, a robin or a thrush.  I recognized all the birds by their song. At night and at dawn I delighted in the chorus of nightingales and blackbirds, all of them.

“I became another person, a different person.  I turned everything I saw into prayer.  I referred it to myself. Why does the bird sing and glorify its Maker?  I wanted to do the same thing. The same happened with the flowers: I recognized the flowers by their fragrances and I smelled them when I was half an hour away.  I observed the grasses, the trees, the water, and the rocks.  I spoke with the rocks.  The rocks had seen so much in the past.  I asked them and they told me all the secrets of Kavsokalyvia.  And I was filled with emotion and contrition.  I saw everything with the Grace of God.  I saw, but I didn’t speak about it.  I often went to the forest. I was greatly enthused by walking amidst the stones and the rushes, the thickets and the tall trees.

“I fell in love with the nightingale and it inspired me.

“One morning I was walking alone in the virgin forest.  Everything freshened by the morning dew, was shining in the sunlight. I found myself in a gorge.  I walked through it and sat on a rock.  Cold water was running peacefully beside me and I was saying the Jesus prayer. Complete peace.  Nothing could be heard.  After a while the silence was broken by a sweet, intoxicating voice singing and praising the Creator.  I looked.  I couldn’t discern anything.  Eventually, on a branch opposite me I saw a tiny bird.  It was a nightingale.  I listened as the nightingale trilled unstintingly, its throat puffed out to bursting in sustained song.  The microscopic little bird was stretching back its wings in order to find the power to emit those sweetest of tones and puffing out its throat to produce that exquisite voice.  If only I had a cup of water to give it to drink and quench its thirst!  Tears came to my eyes—the same tears of Grace that flowed so effortlessly and that I had acquired from Old Dimas.  It was the second time  I had experienced them. 

“I cannot convey to you the things that I felt, the things I experienced.  I have, however, revealed to you the mystery.  And I thought, ‘Why does this tiny nightingale produce these sounds?  Why does it trill like that?  Why is it singing that exquisite song?  Why, why, why…why is it bursting its throat?  Why, why, for what reason?  Is it waiting for someone to praise it? - Certainly not.  No one there will do that.’  So I philosophized to myself.  This sensitivity I acquired after the experience with Old Dimas.  Previously I didn’t have it.  What did that nightingale not tell me!  And how much did I say to it in silence: ‘Little nightingale, who told you that I would pass by here? No one comes here.  It’s such an out of the way place. How marvelously you unceasingly carry on your duty, your prayer to God!; How much you tell me, and how much you teach me, little nightingale!  My God, how I am moved.  With your warbling, dear nightingale, you show me how to sing praises to God, you teach me a thousand things, beyond number.’

“My poor health does not allow me to narrate all this to you as I feel it.   A whole book could be written about it.  I loved that nightingale very much.  I loved it and it inspired me.  I thought, ‘Why it and not me?  Why does it hide from the world and not me?’  And the thought entered into my mind that I must leave.  I must lose myself.  I must cease to exist.  I said to myself, ‘Why? Did it have an audience? Did it know that I was there and could hear it?  Who heard it as it was bursting its throat in song?  Why did it go to such a hidden location?  But what about all these little nightingales in the middle of the thick forest, in the ravines, night and day, at sunset and sunrise?  Who heard their throat bursting song?  Why did they go to such secret places?  Why did they puff out their throats to bursting?  The purpose was worship, to sing to their Creator, to worship God. That’s how I explained it.

“I regarded all of them as angels of God; little birds that glorified God the Creator of all and no one heard them.  Yes, believe me; they hid themselves so that no one would hear them.  They weren’t interested in being heard: but there in solitude, in peace, in the wilderness, in silence, they longed to be heard, but by whom? By none other than by the Maker of everything -the Creator of all by Him who gave them life and breath and voice.  You will ask,’ Did they have consciousness?’  What am I to say?  I don’t know if they did it consciously or not.  I don’t know.  These, after all are birds.  It may be, as Holy Scriptures says, that today they live and tomorrow exist no more.  We mustn’t think differently from what Holy Scripture says.  God may present to us that all these were angels of God.  We don’t know about these things.  At all events they hid themselves so that no one would hear their doxology.

“So it is also for the monks there on the Holy Mountain; their life is unknown.  You live with your elder and you love him.  Prostrations and ascetic struggles are all part of daily life, but you don’t remember them, nor does anyone ask about you. ‘Who is he? You live Christ; you belong to Christ.  You live with everything and you live God, in whom all things live and move—in whom and through whom—you enter into the uncreated Church and live there unknown.  And although you devote yourself in prayer to your fellow man, you remain unknown to all men, and perhaps they will never know you.

“I got it into my head to leave for the desert, alone with God.

“I got it into my head to leave, to ask my elder for his blessings and a sack of dry biscuits and disappear to praise and glorify God unceasingly.  But I thought, ‘Where will I go? I still haven’t learned my handicraft properly.’  They still hadn’t taught me.  Perhaps they were afraid that I would leave.  That was a widespread fear on the Holy Mountain.  They wouldn’t teach novices how to complete their handicraft so that they wouldn’t leave.  Because for a monk to know a craft means freedom, since he then has a way of buying his biscuits.

“So this idea got into my head to leave for the desert, alone with God alone.  Selflessly, without pride, without egotism, without vanity, without, without, without. Do you believe it? That’s where my ideal of selflessness came from.  A number of ascetics who disappeared into the desert achieved this purity, this perfection.  They sought neither the world nor anything else.  They dissolved in tears before God and prayed for the Church.  They all were concerned first for the world and the Church after that for themselves.  

“So, as I said, the aim of the nightingale became stuck in my head.  What is the aim in bursting his throat in song in the wilderness?  Worship, praise and doxology directed to God the Creator. So why should I not go into the wilderness to worship God in silence, lost to the world and the society of men?  Is there anything more perfect?  All these ideas I had derived from the nightingale.  I dreamt up such plans!  How I would go into the wilderness, how I would live joyfully, how I would die! I would eat wild herbs.  I would do this and that.  I would go as an unknown ragged beggar to some Monastery to ask for a rusk of bread and I would eat it without saying who I am and where I stay.  I made up a whole scenario.  It was my secret.

“I returned to my cell filled with all these emotions and dreams.  I confessed them to the elder.  The elder smiled. ‘Deception!’  he said. ‘Get it out of your head.  Don’t ever think of these things again, because such thoughts will put an end to your prayer.’

“And as I have told you many times, whatever I confessed to the elder finished there and then and I had a sudden feeling of joy.  It was, it seems the result of the elder’s prayers.  So I lived in obedience in the earthly paradise of the Holy Mountain.  I never wanted to leave from there. But God’s plan was different.”

THE END AND GLORY BE TO GOD