Αναζήτηση αυτού του ιστολογίου
Σάββατο 1 Φεβρουαρίου 2020
Saint Maria Skobtsova of Paris.
Saint Maria Skobtsova was a
child of God, and like all saints so she also surpassed obstacles, carried a
heavy burden like the Mount Ararat on her shoulders and lived a life of
refusing the comforts of this world and offering her life to the needy wherever
she would meet them.
We met Melita Antoniadou,
iconographer, painter and illustrator, the first Greek that researched the life
of this amazing woman by traveling to the areas where Saint Maria
lived and martyred during the period of WW2. Melita narrated to us, for the
sake of an article in Orthodox Truth, how she was
inspired to start this investigative journey following Saint Maria’s footsteps.
“Many years ago, my kumbara (I am godmother to her daughter) gave me a book,
the biography of Mother Maria Skobtsova. The subtitle was “A Fool for Christ in
Modern Times”. It was the nicest present. I read it time and again, underlying,
copying, and offering it to others as a present myself.
She was a most unique,
strong, multifaceted personality, free and uncompromising, totally devoted to
love of one’s neighbor. The way she ended her life was fitting to the way she
lived it: she sealed her life with martyrdom in Ravensbrück
concentration camp in 1945.
Poet, painter, iconographer,
mayor, wife and mother to 3 children, later a nun, brilliant theologian and
protectress of thousands of destitute people, playwright, even of a scenario
for a movie - she was especially drawn to fools for Christ, because, as she
used to say, “This path may be difficult, but offers us the unbound happiness
to feel the hand of God in everything we do”.
She was born in Riga and
raised in Anapa, a seaside town of the Black Sea, where she served as Mayor, as
indeed her father earlier, from where she had to escape with her family, hidden
in a cargo ship, ending up, after many adventures, in Paris, to be later named,
Saint Maria of Paris. Her parents, devoted Christians, shaped their daughter’s
values, sensitivities and goals, although her daring nature didn’t just follow
their footsteps, but placed them in front of tough wrestling trials with God.
As one of her contemporaries, Mokoulskii, mentions: “She doesn’t recognize
nature’s laws, she doesn’t know what cold means, she stays without food or
sleep for days on end, she defies sickness or fatigue, she loves danger, she
ignores fear and hates any form of comfort, whether it be spiritual or
material”
I read this testimony in the
book at hand, which was followed by a poem St. Maria wrote:
I searched for singers and
prophets
That wait by the stairway to
heaven
They see signs of the
mystical end,
They sing, elusive for us,
songs.
And I found people restless,
orphaned, poor,
Drunk, desolate, useless,
Lost in any of their taken
paths,
Homeless, naked,
breadhungry.
There are no prophesies.
Only life
Incessantly plays the role
of the prophet.
The end is near, the days
are shortened.
You took a slave’s form.
Hosanna!
Her biographer, Sergei
Hakel, had gathered extracts from her writings, which made such an impression
on me that I wanted to know more about this marvelous woman - to get to know
her life and her way of thinking. She, who exemplified with her own life all
that she wrote, so brilliantly, about the true nature of the Church, about what
it means for one to commune the body of Christ - and what it means to sicken
it, by confining it in the narrow boundaries of moralism and typolatry that
know how to weigh and measure, but not how to set free and give new life.
“Now, she writes, I am
absolutely aware that every theory, however important, inevitably carries less
value and is less needed than any practical deed, no matter how unimpressive.
This is the real situation, the demands of which I first and foremost
experience with such intensity.”
In the statute of Orthodox
Action, an organization that was formed in order to help Russian refugees, she
paraphrased the same thoughts: “We are endowed with secondary targets and we
intend to devote ourselves to anything secondary”.
Melita Antoniadou received
the book that narrated St. Maria’s life in 2003. Her first thought was that,
since the saint passed away when she was 54-years-old, in 1945, there should be
still some people alive who had met her. A Belarusian friend of hers, Greta
Nikitina, gave her the phone number of a young man in Paris, Basile Arkhipoff,
who descended from Russian emigres and had close relations to ACER - the
Russian Christian Student Movement or Movement of Christian Youth, which saint
Maria had joined when she settled in Paris. So Paris became the first stop for
her research.
“I soon found myself in
Paris, where I met this fine young man, who told me that the daughter of the
close associate of Saint Maria, Saint Dimitri Klepinin, Elene
Arjakovsky-Klepinin, had all the archives of Saint Maria, and lived in Germany
in the student town of Tubingen. I called her and she agreed to meet me at
first opportunity. I decided to travel by car to Germany that summer, via
Patras-Ancona (Greece to Italy). In Berlin, good old friends from my student
years in England, who had since become a charming family with 3 children, were
expecting me. The husband, Jens, believed that the Germans had better look
their past straight in the eye, so that the shameful events of WW2 would never
be repeated. So, he would take his children, since they were very young, to
visit the concentration camps.
Ravensbrück was famous
-infamous- for the cruelties that took place there. It was the worst women’s
Nazi camp. We went to the camp, which had been reconstructed in the 80s, where
apart from the remaining buildings, there were the chambers filled with triple
bunk beds, where about 100 prisoners were packed in each chamber; the execution
corridors where some prisoners were shot; the huge rolling stones that the
prisoners were forced to push for 10 to 12 hours a day; the yard where they
were forced to stand for ages, the workplaces for sewing, etc.; the crematoria
with the furnaces where the dead bodies of the gassed prisoners (in the gas
chambers) were burned. The furnaces had a big tag in front with the name and
address of the maker, so that if one needed to order some, they could do so
easily... There are no words to describe that sight. In front of the furnaces,
some of the victims’ relatives had placed a plaque with the name of their loved
ones who lost their lives there. There was nothing for Saint Maria. The only
thing of hers was in the display room, a small showcase with her handicraft, an
embroidered handkerchief and an Orthodox prayer rope with knots. The woman in
charge eagerly photocopied the details of the prisoner we asked for.
Next stop, Tubingen, in
order to meet Helene Arjakovsky-Klepinin. Even though the German highways are
famous for being flawless, toll-less and speed limit-less in many areas,
something which made me think that I will make the trip from North to South in
a flash, a rainstorm caused the collapse of a major bridge, resulting in a huge
delay. I was stuck in the middle of nowhere (the cars formed ten mile lines)
for 7 hours. When I finally reached Helene’s home, I expected and old lady to
greet me. I was surprised to see a good looking woman around 60! Polite, highly
educated and pleasant. It didn’t take long for her to make me feel at home, and
there we sat, squatting, surrounded by boxes with archives from the times of
Lourmel (the Parisian monastery, which Mother Maria had founded and in which
Father Dmitri, Helene’s father, had served in the years before the war broke
off).
She showed me the star that
the Nazis commanded the Jews to wear, and the baptism certificates that her
father issued to the Jews so that they may pass as Christians and escape
persecution (this was the reason they were arrested: Mother Maria, Father
Dmitri, Yuri, Mother Maria’s son, and Ilia Fondaminsky, an Jewish convert, who
tirelessly worked alongside them for the relief and protection of all kinds of
desolate people, who found refuge in this atypical monastery in the heart of
Paris). Helene possessed all the letters that were saved from the various
concentration camps, in which they were sent - of Helene’s father, Mother
Maria’s, Yuri’s and Ilias’s.
Father Dmitri Klepinin
writes in a letter, that the Grace of God, Which they lived in the camp was
such that he would not change the time he spent in that place of martyrdom for
anything in the world (and which cost him, and the rest of the group, their
lives). Helene had already given the theological writings of Mother Maria to be
translated into English. Jim Forest, American writer and publisher of the
Orthodox magazine, “In Communion”, would write the Introduction. Helene
reassured me that those writings were her most important collection of St.
Maria’s theological thought, so I couldn’t wait to lay my eyes on them. But
these were just a few of the total of her works, which were published much
later in French, and now are being translated into Greek. Helene told me that
Mother Maria didn’t hesitate to send her articles to whomever would ask for
them, even if this or that magazine or newspaper didn’t have the best
reputation. Somewhere, someone would take a “bite”. This was her way of seeing
things. As she didn’t hesitate to go to the infamous Paris districts to help
young desperate young women that sought some support in order to escape
prostitution. For one such girl that was hosted in the monastery, she came into
conflict with sister Evdokia who lived there, and who, shocked with Mother
Maria’s practices, got up and left.
I mentioned to Helene that
there is no plaque in Ravensbrück devoted to Mother Maria’s memory, and the
next year she wrote to me, happy to say that a committee in Paris took on the
construction of such a plaque. There was a fundraiser, and when it was ready
they would go on a pilgrimage to Ravensbrück together with their bishop. This
was later established as an annual pilgrimage, after Maria Skobtsova was
officially pronounced a Saint by the Ecumenical Patriarchate, together with her
son Yuri, Father Dmitri and Ilia Fondaminsky.
Back in Paris, I visited
Lourmel Street, where, unfortunately, nothing remains today of Saint Maria’s
monastery (since the place was rented), apart from a plaque at the entrance of
an apartment building that was built in its place, to remind us what it once
had been. The altar and the icons, painted or embroidered by Mother Maria, are
now in the Orthodox Church of Saint Seraphim of Sarov in another Parisian
district.
When I visited it, I met an
elderly female sexton, who remembered Saint Maria well, because her mother
served in Lourmel and she’d take her along every day. “She was a fearless
woman”, the old lady told me. “Tireless, she didn’t care about herself in the
least. She would go around with a soiled from various chores cassock, and with
a broad smile almost never leaving her face. Her embrace was as broad, as she
was very expressive. Tall and strong built, she radiated warmth to everyone, but
she also didn’t hesitate to speak strongly, when she disagreed with something.
She didn’t take care to do things covertly, she spoke openly about Nazis and
made loud declarations about the injustice against the Jews. She moreover
regarded that all Christians should wear David’s star in support of the Jews,
since Christ was also a Jew and David’s descendant. If she took precautions,
she may have been saved from the Gestapo, but death was not what she feared, as
she possessed a resurrected soul”.
I didn’t keep the sexton’s
name, but I will not forget her luminous presence and the familiarity I felt
near her.
A very important encounter
was the one with Elisabeth Behr-Siegel (a meeting made possible with the kind
intervention of Michael Stavrou, a theologian at the French Institute of Saint
Serge in Paris - her frailty forced her kin to keep visits scarce). I had the
good fortune to visit her in her humble dwellings, a small apartment in a
second rate Paris district. (All the notable Russian emigre scholars that I
met, as were the Losskys, lived in small, humble apartments, full of books and
photos, decorated in the refined taste of old gentry, reminiscent of their
origin).
Her daughter, Nadine,
brought us tea. Elisabeth, 97 years old, was preparing a lecture which she
would deliver in Oxford in a few days. Radiant and dynamic, despite the aged
body, she spoke to me about how they would secretly meet with Mother Maria in
various houses, how they hid Jews in attics and basements, how they gathered
money to arrange their escape to Switzerland or England, how they made false
documents and identity cards, but also how Mother Maria couldn’t quit smoking
and in her efforts, she dreamt of ashtrays full of cigarette buds... And there
she laughed out loud. “Hmm, how not! Can you imagine the tension she lived in?
How many issues she took care of every day, and at the same time, she was daily
rushing to gather food for the common meal, to beg for money for the endless
needs... I know, I know, the pious Christians are shocked by these things!” And
she laughed again, more lightly. “What kind of person was she? She was the
person that didn’t care for half measures”, she said. “That’s why she would
say: One cannot be a measured Christian”.
Ten days after my visit,
Elisabeth Behr-Siegel left this world. She didn’t make it to Oxford for the
talk. Like a small bird, with a book in hand, she flew away in her bed. I am
grateful that I met her on time in this world.
In the Netherlands, in
Alkmaar, I stayed in the hospitable home of Jim and Nancy Forest for a few
days. The book with the most important writings of Saint Maria had just been
published in English. Jim offered me the rights for the long introduction
narrating her life, which he had written. My translation and its publication in
Greek followed. According to her heart, to her life, to that which she herself
declared in her writings, the title contained the word “sacrifice”, which
suited her best. As she wrote: “No amount of thought will ever be able to
result in a greater formulation than the three words: “Love one another”, so
long as it is love to the end and without exceptions.”
From
the writings of saint Maria of Paris we offer one more excerpt titled:
THERE ARE
TWO WAYS TO LIVE
You
can walk on earth in an entirely legitimate and dignified manner: to count,
weigh and plan for the future. But it is also possible to walk on water. Then,
it is impossible to count and plan the future. The only thing necessary is to
believe incessantly. A moment of doubt and you start to sink in”.
Oral tradition has it that
Saint Maria took the place of a Jewish mother with children in the line of
prisoners to be led to the crematoria in sacrifice.
We feel grateful for all
that Melita Antoniadou passed on to us together with the photographic material,
but also for the opportunity to contemplate and admire how there are people
that gave up their lives in the world and became saints, lived heavenly lives
on Earth and lessened themselves so that the Holy Grace would flow through them
to the rest of the people, so that the world may be nourished and light shed
into the shadows, comforting human sorrow.
_____________
Sophia Chatzi
Published in Greek newspaper
ORTHODOX TRUTH
Original text in Greek : http://apantaortodoxias.blogspot.com/2018/10/blog-post_296.html
Παρασκευή 31 Ιανουαρίου 2020
ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ ΤΟ ΨΑΡΕΜΑ ΚΑΙ ΤΟ ΑΓΟΡΙ.
ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ
ΤΟ ΨΑΡΕΜΑ ΚΑΙ ΤΟ ΑΓΟΡΙ.
Έχοντας
συγκεντρωθεί για ψάρεμα με τους παλιούς φίλους του, ο πατέρας του πήρε μαζί του
έναν έφηβο γιο. Οι ενήλικες, βλέποντας ότι το αγόρι δεν ήξερε πώς, τον δίδαξαν πώς να ανάβει σωστά μια φωτιά, πώς να
ενισχύσει ένα δοχείο πάνω από μια φωτιά, πώς να καθαρίσει τα ψάρια, πώς να
πλένει τα πιάτα ... Το αγόρι συχνά υποστήριζε, ότι ήταν θυμωμένος και αναστατωμένος,
συνειδητοποιώντας την ανικανότητά του. Πήγε στον πατέρα του και είπε:
-
Μπαμπά, έμαθα πολλά, αλλά όλα δεν λειτουργούν για μένα. Νευριάζω και κουράζομαι.
"Γιε,"
απάντησε ο πατέρας, "όσο πιο ταπεινός όλη την ώρα, θα είναι ευκολότερο."
Λίγα
μέρες πέρασαν και ο γιος πλησίασε ξανά τον πατέρα του:
"Μπαμπά,
φωνάζει όλη την ώρα ο εαυτός μας και
είμαι ακόμα πιο κουρασμένος από αυτό." Μπορώ να ξεκουραστώ για μια μέρα
από την ταπεινότητα;
«Εἶπεν
ὁ Κύριος· Ὅστις θέλει ὀπίσω μου ἀκολουθεῖν, ἀπαρνησάσθω ἑαυτὸν καὶ ἀράτω τὸν
σταυρὸν αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἀκολουθείτω μοι. ( Ματθαίου . 8:34 )»
ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ ΤΟ ΑΓΟΡΙ ΚΑΙ ΤΟ ΚΟΥΤΣΟΥΡΟ.
ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ ΤΟ ΑΓΟΡΙ ΚΑΙ ΤΟ ΚΟΥΤΣΟΥΡΟ.
Στα
βάθη του κήπου βρισκόταν ένα παλιό κοκκινωπό χοντρό κούτσουρο από μια μεγάλη
καστανιά. Στον ίδιο κήπο, ένα αγόρι παίζει. Περισσότερο από οτιδήποτε άλλο, φοβάται
να πλησιάσει αυτό το φοβερό κούτσουρο, που του φάνηκε ένας τρομερός ληστής από
μια τρομερή ιστορία.
-
Ληστής, ληστής! - φώναζε το αγόρι και έτρεχε στο σπίτι στους γονείς του.
Ένα
βράδυ, ο πατέρας πήρε το χέρι του αγοριού, τον οδήγησε στο τρομερό κούτσουρο
και είπε:
- Παρακολούθησε
προσεκτικά και χωρίς φόβο. Κανένας ληστής;
"Τώρα
όχι", απάντησε το αγόρι. "Αλλά όταν τον φοβάμαι, εμφανίζεται ο
ληστής, και όταν δεν φοβάμαι, εξαφανίζεται και πάλι."
«Επομένως,
ποιος θα σας κάνει κακό αν γίνετε ζηλωτές για το καλό; Αλλά ακόμη και αν
υποφέρετε για χάρη της δικαιοσύνης, είστε ευτυχισμένοι. «(ΕΠΙΣΤΟΛΗ ΑΠΟΣΤΟΛΟΥ
ΠΕΤΡΟΥ ΚΕΦ 3-13/14
ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ ΑΓΑΠΗΜΕΝΕΣ ΑΜΑΡΤΙΕΣ.
ΠΑΡΑΒΟΛΗ ΑΓΑΠΗΜΕΝΕΣ ΑΜΑΡΤΙΕΣ.
Μια
θρησκευτική γυναίκα είπε στον Δάσκαλο ότι ήταν το πρωί για εξομολόγηση.
"Δεν
μπορώ να πιστέψω ότι μπορείτε να διαπράξετε μια σοβαρή αμαρτία", απάντησε
ο Δάσκαλος. "Τι ομολογήσατε;"
"Ότι
ήμουν πολύ τεμπέλα για να πάω σε ένα κήρυγμα
της Κυριακής, και μια φορά είχα έναν τσακωμό με έναν κηπουρό..
"Αλλά
αυτό συνέβη πριν από πέντε χρόνια, έτσι;" Από τότε, πιθανότατα το έχετε ήδη εξομολογηθεί.
-
Ναι, ομολόγησε. Αλλά το λέω ξανά και ξανά. Μου αρέσει να το θυμάμαι αυτό.
TOYΡΚΟΙ ΣΤΡΑΤΙΩΤΕΣ ΣΕ ΕΚΚΛΗΣΙΑ. ΠΑΤΗΡ ΔΙΟΝΥΣΙΟΣ ΤΑΜΠΑΚΗΣ.
Ο Ilya Banogo 86 χρονών από την Ίμβρο, Ελληνικής καταγωγής, που διακρίθηκε στον
Τουρκικό στρατό κηδεύθηκε πριν ολίγο
καιρό με
Ορθόδοξη τελετή στην Εκκλησία Αγίου Γεωργίου στο Zeytinliköy.
Ο διοικητής του Τσανάκκαλε Orhan
Tavlı,
ο διοικητής της περιφέρειας Gökçeada Muhittin Gürel, ο Gökçeada, ο δήμαρχος Ünal Çetin, στρατιωτικοί αξιωματούχοι και πολίτες
παρακολούθησαν την εξόδιο ακολουθία.
Πέμπτη 30 Ιανουαρίου 2020
Συντροφιά με τους Αγγέλους… Γερόντισσα Γαβριηλία
Συντροφιά
με τους Αγγέλους… Γερόντισσα Γαβριηλία
Αρκετά
χρόνια πριν, ένα απόγευμα είχαμε επισκεφθεί την γερόντισσα Γαβριηλία, τότε που
μόναζε κάπου κοντά στην μονή του Αγίου Νεκταρίου, στην Αίγινα. Ήμασταν μια
μεγαλούτσικη παρέα, καθίσαμε γύρω της και κουβεντιάσαμε μαζί της αρκετή ώρα.
Μιλούσαμε για τους Αγγέλους, στους οποίους αναφερόταν τόσο συχνά. Μας
αφηγούνταν το πώς οι άγγελοι είναι κοντά μας και πως όταν τους εμπιστευόμαστε
μας προσέχουν και οδηγούν. Είχαμε ρωτήσει διάφορα και μας είχε απαντήσει.
Θυμάμαι, μια φίλη είχε ρωτήσει πως γίνεται αισθητή η παρουσία τους και πως
συνομιλεί μαζί τους και της είχε πει πως πρόκειται για έναν άρρητο τρόπο
συνομιλίας που δεν μπορεί να τον καταλάβει κάποιος αν δεν του έχει αποκαλυφθεί
Θεόθεν. Το κλίμα της ομήγυρης ήταν πολύ ζεστό και η κουβέντα άκρως
ενδιαφέρουσα. Είχε αρχίσει και νύχτωνε όμως και έπρεπε να φύγουμε, να
προλάβουμε το τελευταίο πλοίο για Πειραιά. Σηκωθήκαμε, πήραμε την ευχή της και
βγήκαμε στον δρόμο. Έξω είχε σκοτεινιάσει και δεν ξέραμε πως θα φτάναμε στο
λιμάνι απ’την ερημιά που βρισκόμασταν. Ήμασταν και πολλά άτομα, και ταξί να
περνούσε (πράγμα απίθανο μεσ’ τα βουνά της Αίγινας, τέτοια ώρα) δεν θα μας
χωρούσε όλους… και φυσικά λεωφορείο εκείνη την ώρα δεν υπήρχε.
Ενώ
περιμέναμε αρκετή ώρα και είχε μείνει μόλις κανένα μισάωρο για την αναχώρηση
του τελευταίου πλοίου, εμφανίζεται από το πουθενά ένα τεράστιο ταξί… ήταν ένα
από τα παλιά εκείνα μοντέλα αμαξιών με πολύ μεγάλη ευρυχωρία. Χωρέσαμε όλοι
(κάπου έξι άτομα θα πρέπει να’ μασταν απ’ότι θυμάμαι), έστω και κάπως
στριμωχτά. Ο ταξιτζής ένας πολύ χαμογελαστός και πρόσχαρος νεαρός, πιάσαμε
κουβέντα και φτάσαμε στο λιμάνι μόλις λίγο πριν φύγει το πλοίο. Καθόμουν
μπροστά και βγήκα τελευταίος πληρώνοντας τον ταξιτζή. Βγαίνοντας ακούω να του
λέει κάποιος απ’έξω ‘ρε Μιχάλη που χάθηκες;’ και απαντάει ο ταξιτζής ‘εδώ είμαι
ρε Γαβρίλη, εσύ που είσαι’. Αφού βγαίνω και αρχίζω να απομακρύνομαι από το ταξί
συνειδητοποιώ τι είχα ακούσει. Γυρνάω να δω που βρίσκεται το ταξί. Είχε φύγει…
Πρόκειται
για γεγονός που το έχω ζήσει ο ίδιος. Ξέρω, οι σκεπτικιστές θα πουν ‘σύμπτωση’.
Οι Γιουγκγιανοί θα πουν ‘συγχρονικότητα’. Οι δύσπιστοι θα πουν ‘παραίσθηση’. Οι
θρήσκοι θα πουν ‘θαύμα’.
Η
δική μου γνώμη, πάντως, είναι να ρωτήσουμε τους Αγγέλους, δεν χάνουμε τίποτα
(παρά μόνο την ψωροσοβαρότητά μας)… αν υπάρχουν θα απαντήσουν, σίγουρα…
(Σήμερα
ημέρα της αναστήλωσης των εικόνων και χθες ημέρα των γυναικών: ένα
αριστουργηματικό έργο, λοιπόν, από έναν μεγάλο εικαστικό, τον Θεοφάνη τον
Έλληνα, αλλά και μια αφήγηση για μια γυναίκα, από αυτές που η παρουσία τους
έχει 'ποτίσει' με θεία ευλογία το έδαφος της ανθρώπινης ιστορίας, την
γερόντισσα Γαβριηλία. Χρόνια πολλά και ευλογημένα… με πνευματικότητα γνήσια,
τέτοια που να διαποτίζει, να εξαγιάζει και να ‘ανασταίνει’ και τον υλικό
κόσμο…).
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