Metropolitan of Nikolaos of Mesogaias and Lavreotikis
The spiritual influence of Mount Athos
is indisputable and certainly stems from the fact that many men have
attained holiness through their secret ascetic struggles there. In
recent years many pilgrims have found peace of mind and repose on the
Mountain, together with spiritual guidance and support.
The higher one rises, scientists tell
us, the weaker the force of gravity becomes, the less one feels the pull
of the earth, the looser one’s connection with it becomes, the easier
one can shrug off its pressures and demands, the lighter one becomes.
The closer, too, one feels to heaven,
which, though so vague, is so real and so desirable. Although less
tangible, it seems more real than the earth. The higher one rises, the
clearer the air becomes, the sharper one’s hearing, the broader the
horizon, the closer one draws to the truth, and the truth is more
convincing than reality.
Of all the holy sites in the Orthodox
world, Mount Athos is the place where for over a thousand years the
monastic life has been lived in its most absolute form. The passing
centuries may have stamped their ‘worldly’ influence on the Mountain;
even there men may display their weaknesses or even passions, which is
only natural, and modern ‘civilisation’ may have done its damage, but in
an inexplicably mystical way the Mountain has retained its blessed
character, the constant and unique evidence of its grace, its rare and
singular spiritual strength, and its dynamic relationship in space and
time with the Lord God and the Kingdom of Heaven. Its philosophy of life
has not been jeopardised by wrong choices, has not been harmed by a bad
process of modernisation, and has not been corrupted by the times or by
men, whoever they may be. Its truth endures.
It
is like a rock which problems like changing political influences, the
immoderate use of technology, tourism, parochial views, inter-monastic
feuds, rivalries and even hatred, and all kinds of hostile forces only
succeed in briefly washing over or moistening the surface of, without in
the least disturbing its inner core.
There is something that does indeed
protect it. Perhaps it is its monastic diversity, perhaps it is its
enduring quality, perhaps the naturalness of its monastic expression,
perhaps its treasures, relics and splendour, perhaps the abaton1 and
its administrative autonomy, perhaps its ecumenical character, perhaps
the care and protection of the Mother of God, perhaps its special grace.
Despite its theocratic character, after eleven centuries of glorious
existence Byzantium fell. Athos, on the other hand, is now in its
fourteenth century of life but it moves at the pace of the world to come
and gives you the impression that it is a place which is ‘not of this
world’ (John 18: 36), one whose relationship with time is like that of
its surface with the air and whose ‘citizens dwell in heaven’
(Philippians 3: 20).
‘A rich mountain, a firm mountain’ (Psalms 68: 15)
With its slender
connection with ephemeral and worldly things and its attention
constantly focused on lofty matters of the soul, the Holy Mountain seems
to embrace the whole of mankind and to possess a gaze that can see
beyond the limits of time and reason. In geographical terms, the
Mountain is situated in Greece but it does not belong to her.
Perhaps it is that part of Orthodox life
which best emphasises the catholicity and universality of the Church.
Its monasteries include a Russian, a Serbian and a Bulgarian foundation.
There are two Romanian sketes2 and monks from
distant countries and civilisations, such as Peru and Colombia. Within
its geographical borders God is worshipped in numerous languages and a
wide variety of cultures and traditions find expression here: there is a
marvellous, well-balanced diversity. Nothing in all this obstructs the
unity of faith, the catholicity of the Orthodox spirit, the universality
of the Church’s witness.
On the contrary, all of this proves that
the Word of God is not restricted by language or confined within
borders, and is not stifled by different forms of cultural expression or
perhaps even different religions. It is an interesting fact that only a
third of the members of the ‘Friends of Mount Athos’ society in England
are Orthodox. The number of non-Orthodox writers recording their
admiration of Athos and their sense of its mystical power is increasing
all the time. The Mountain moves all people.
Here space and time acquire another
dimension and perspective. One’s relationship with earthly, ephemeral
and perishable things is an entirely perfunctory one. Concepts like
‘money’, ‘property’, ‘wealth’, ‘investment’, ‘entertainment’,
‘competition’ and ‘interest’ completely lose their importance. Here only
the most essential worldly concerns are allowed to occupy one’s
thoughts. The soul opens itself up to heavenly things. Here the main
focus of interest is eternity and God’s kingdom. The purpose of history
is not to serve as an object of worship but to build the foundations of
the present. The future is not seen as a way of relieving suppressed
emotions but as a way of transforming the present. The whole of time is
held within its embrace. Athos follows the Old Style Calendar knowing
that it is wrong but without being bothered by the fact, believing that
it is a system that works well for it. Even the Byzantine cycle of daily
time, which is so cumbersome in practice, seems to have a good reason
for existing here. The Mountain lives in its own time. It has escaped
the most pressing demands and defeated the most powerful oppressors.
Time is not binding. Tradition is not
restrictive. The liturgical rite is not a shackle. National identity and
language do not count for everything. Education is not a privilege.
There is no discrimination. Comparisons are avoided. The most important
thing is being constantly in God’s presence and embracing the whole
world.
‘I lift up my eyes to the hills – where does my help come from?’ (Psalm 121: 1)
The first thing that can
be said about Athos is that it is a mountain, and in a notional sense at
that. It is a high point. It represents a life that consists of an
uphill struggle, that can be enjoyed ‘in a state of spiritual
exaltation’, that involves a ‘heart which contemplates the heavens’ and
seeks the ‘one who dwells on high’, the Almighty. It is an interesting
fact that in the Orthodox tradition there are four hagiographical
allusions to mountains on which revelations took place.
On Mount Sinai Moses received the Ten
Commandments, the expression of God’s will. Moses spoke with Him, heard
His voice and saw Him from behind (Exodus, chapters 19 and 20).
On Mount Carmel the Prophet Elijah
prayed and God heard his prayer and answered it. Elijah felt God’s
presence and experienced the manifestations of His power (I Kings,
chapters 18-20).
The Mount of Olives was the scene of the
Lord’s ascension into heaven. Christ deified human flesh and ‘took
sinful human nature upon himself and offered it up to God the Father’,
thus revealing a glimpse of the glory and honour of human nature (Acts
1: 12).
Finally, on Mount Tabor the Lord
revealed as much of His glory as could be borne by human nature and
emanated His divine light (Matthew 17: 1-8).
The Mountain is a place where God
reveals His commandments; it is a place for a practical way of life, a
place where patience, humility and love prevail, a place where man can
clothe himself in divine raiment. It is a place where ‘nature is
constantly constrained and the senses ceaselessly imprisoned’, a place
of extreme, unceasing and persistent askesis3 and submission.
It is a place of prayer and signs.
Prayer is unceasing, and in the cases of many monks extensive and
long-lasting. At sundown the ascetics begin their all-night vigil, the
coenobites take over with nocturns, in the morning the Divine Liturgy is
celebrated, and during the day the Hours are performed by the monks in
the course of their duties or while in their cells; during the times of
quiet and pious chatter the repetition of the divine meanings of the
Jesus Prayer can be constantly heard on numerous lips. Tongues pray; the
architecture of the churches underscores the intensity of the prayers;
the daily routine, the long services, the hearts of the monks are all
imbued with the sweet melody of prayer.
The Mountain reveals the extremity of
human situations. It is moderate in its discreet character but also
displays a divine extremeness – though without foolish extremes – in its
absolute and uncompromising lifestyle and philosophy. The daily vigils,
the absence of a comforting female presence (even in pictorial form),
the customary obedience, the life devoid of personal choices emphasises
the naturalness of the ‘supernatural’ state. The Mountain is a place
where the majesty of human nature is displayed. It functions as a kind
of training ground for achieving deification. ‘The angels’ ranks were
awed by thy life in the flesh’, chants the Athonite world, in honour of
its father, St. Athanasios of Athos. Human limits are pushed to their
utmost. Here saints like Gregory Palamas become beholders of divinity.
Saints like Maximos the Kafsokalyvitan cast off their earthly gravity
and appear to fly. Saints like Nikodemos Hagioreites express their
intelligence as light, while their knowledge assumes the character of
revelation. Saints like our modern-day saints Païssios, Ephraim and
Elder Joseph the Hesychast combine rigorous discipline in their lives
with grace, like the old elders in our ascetic literature. Saints like
Kosmas the Aetolian or Fathers Sophronios and Porphyrios, also from our
own time, draw strength from Athos’s springs for a few years and then
become lifelong reformers, preachers and theologians of worldwide
renown.
But the Mountain is not only a place for
man’s spiritual glory. On all of the four mountains mentioned earlier
God’s presence is marked by the appearance of a cloud. On Mt. Sinai as a
‘dense cloud’ which Moses enters, sensing but not actually seeing the
Lord (Exodus, chapters 16, 19 and 24). On Mt. Carmel the ‘cloud’ breaks
the silence of the heavens and brings forth rain in a miraculous manner
(I Kings 18: 44). On the Mount of Olives, the Mount of the Ascension,
the Lord ‘was taken up into a cloud’ and carried off to Heaven (Acts 1:
9). Finally, on Mt. Tabor ‘a bright cloud overshadowed’ the disciples
and the voice from the cloud saying ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I
am well pleased: listen to Him’ shows that God the Father was present
there with them (Matthew 17: 5).
The Mountain lives within a cloud of
God’s graces. Sacred relics emit a sweet fragrance, holy icons exude
myrrh, events take an unexpected turn, expectations are exceeded, rare
surprises occur, God works with a power greater than the force of
natural laws and logic. You enter the cloud of Athos as a visitor and,
like Moses, you discover the tablets with God’s commandments in your
hands. You find it easier to observe them. You are surprised by the
presence of the cloud and are startled by the ‘sign’ of God’s grace
flowing down like rain. You are struck by the cloud’s mystical character
and ‘fall on your face in great fear’, like the disciples on Mt. Tabor.
You behold the cloud and hear the voice of God the Father within you.
You sense its intangible divine majesty and ‘gaze up at heaven’ like the
Apostles on the Mount of Olives and you ‘return’ with great mystical
‘joy’.
If the Mountain of God’s presence
illuminates with its apocalyptic visions, the cloud of the divine
mystery fills the heart with the humility of uncreated grace. On the
Holy Mountain you experience miracles, you perceive holiness, you are
illuminated by whatever you can see, you are nourished by whatever lies
within your reach, you have the ‘same mind that was in Christ Jesus’
(Philippians 2: 5).
A long time ago I was approached by a
young student. Very hesitantly, but with the intensity of someone who is
determined to find out something, he declared that, although he was an
atheist and found it hard to believe, he very much wanted to find faith.
He had tried and searched for years but all to no avail. He had talked
with professors and educated people but his thirst for something serious
was not satisfied. He heard about me and decided to share his
existential need with me. He asked me for a scientific proof of God’s
existence.
‘Do you know anything about integrals or differential equations?’ I asked him.
‘Unfortunately not,’ he replied, ‘I’m an Arts student.’
‘What a shame! I knew a proof like that,’ I said in a deliberate attempt to be funny.
He felt awkward and fell silent for a while.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry I teased you
like that but God is not an equation or a mathematical proof. If He was,
then all educated people would believe in Him. You know, there is a
different way of approaching God. Have you ever been to Mount Athos?
Have you ever met any ascetics?’
‘No, father, but I’m thinking of going.
I’ve heard so much about it. If you tell me to, I’ll even go tomorrow.
Do you know any well-educated person I could meet?’
‘Which would you prefer: a well-educated person who would confuse you, or a saint who might wake you up?’
‘I’d prefer a well-educated person. I’m afraid of saints.’
‘Faith is a matter of the heart. Try talking to a saint. What’s your name?’ I asked him.
‘Gabriel’, he replied.
I sent him to an ascetic. I told him how to get there and gave him the necessary instructions. We even drew a sketch-map.
‘You must go and ask the same thing,’ I
said. ‘“I’m an atheist”, you must say, “and I want to believe. I want
some proof of God’s existence”.’
‘I’m afraid, I’m too shy,’ he replied.
‘Why are you afraid and shy of the saint
when you’re not afraid or shy of me?’ I asked him. ‘Just go and ask him
the same thing.’
A few days later he went, and he found
the ascetic talking with a young man in the yard of his cell. Opposite,
four other young men sat waiting on some logs. Gabriel gingerly took his
place amongst them. About ten minutes later the elder finished his
discussion with the young man.
‘How are you, boys?’ he asked. ‘Have you had a loukoumi?4 Have you had a drop of water to drink?’
‘Yes, thank you, father,’ they replied with conventional worldly politeness.
‘Come here,’ he said to Gabriel, picking
him out from the others. I’ll get some water and you take this box with
the loukoumia. And come closer so that I can tell you a secret: it’s
okay being an atheist, but to be an atheist and have an angel’s name,
well… It’s the first time I’ve ever come across anything like that.’
Our friend almost fainted with shock at
this sudden revelation. How did he know his name? Who had told him about
his problem? And what did the elder want to say to him?
‘Father, can I have a brief word with you?’ he uttered in a faint voice.
‘Look, my son, the sun is going down: take the loukoumi, have a drink of water and go to the nearest monastery for the night.’
‘Father, I’d like to speak to you, if that’s possible.’
‘What is there for us to say, my child? Why have you come?’
‘On hearing this question I immediately
felt a huge weight off my chest,’ he told me later. ‘My heart began to
overflow with faith. My inner world began to glow. My questions began to
be solved without any logical arguments, without any discussion,
without any clear answers. All the “ifs”, “whys” and “maybes” were
banished at a stroke, leaving only the “hows” and “whats”.’
What the knowledge of educated men was
unable to give him he gained from the kind allusion of a saint, who had
completed only four years at junior school. Saints are very discreet.
They operate on you without an anaesthetic and there is no pain. They
perform a transplant without cutting you open. They raise you to lofty
heights without using the steps of earthly logic to get there. They
plant faith in your heart without tiring your mind.
‘Inviolate and God-trodden mountain’
The Holy Mountain is a
training school of the heart, a place of healing for the inner man. It
raises you up to spiritual heights which cannot be reached even by the
most modern balloon of worldly reasoning. Here Grace expresses truth in
unexpected ways.
The basic question on the Mountain is
not whether God exists. This question seems to have been decisively
resolved a long time ago. Neither is it whether our God is better than
other people’s gods. Here ‘our’ does not have a possessive sense – as in
the phrase ‘God is mine’ – but the sense of a child selflessly wishing
to join its father – ‘I am striving to become His’. All efforts are
directed at partaking of God’s divine nature (2 Peter 1: 4), at making
the most of our kinship with Him, at gaining a sense of His presence, of
learning the benefits and ways of experiencing Him.
The Mountain’s value does not lie in its
individual charismatic monks, however many or great they may be. Its
majesty is concealed in the fact that it is a resting-place for God.
Just as, for reasons that remain unknown to us, in some icons that
depict exactly the same figure as others God works in different ways,
and imparts a special grace to some that He does not give to others;
just as amongst His twelve beloved disciples the Lord had a favourite;
just as from amongst all His peoples he selected His ‘chosen people’;
just as He performed the miracles that revealed His glory only in
certain places like the Pools of Bethsaida and Siloam, so too does He
select certain places in His creation to be special expressions of His
grace. The Holy Mountain is the Mountain of God.
Paper presented at the Inter-Orthodox Theological Conference ‘Russia and Athos: A Thousand Years of Spiritual Unity’ held in Moscow, 1-4 October 2006.
All photographies: Copyright Fr. Constantine Prodan
(http://sfantulmunte.wordpress.com/)
(http://sfantulmunte.wordpress.com/)
Translator’s notes:
1 The regulation forbidding the entry of women to Mount Athos.
2 Skete (plural sketes): a small monastery.
3 Spiritual exercise or training.
4 A piece of Turkish delight, a traditional hospitality offering on Athos.
Of all the holy sites in the
Orthodox world, Mount Athos is the place where for over a thousand years
the monastic life has been lived in its most absolute form.
Source-Pemptousia.com
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