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} iWiii PHi 1 MWli coom mid unto PAGE 2—The Southern Cross, January 12, 1963 Priest Sees Mount Athos’ Southern Tip-Rocky Haven Of Orthodox Contemplatives The author of the following article, a Byzantine Rite Jes uit assigned to the Russian Cen ter at Fordham University in New York, recently spent sev eral weeks studying Orthodox monastic life on Mount Athos, a font of spirituality for Ortho doxy. In the light of current attempts for closer interreli gious understanding, his article can give Catholic readers a new look at some facets of the Or thodox Church. By Father George A. Maloney, S.J. (N.C.W.C. NEWS SERVICE) The main goal of my wan derings on Mount Athos was Karoulia. On the map of the Holy Moun tain, Karoulia shows up simply as the southernmost tip of the 35-mile-long peninsula jutting into the Aegean Sea. But its terrain proved a real challenge. Karoulia is the area that has attracted the most serious- minded monks of Athos from all times. "Go to Karoulia," the abbot of the Dionysiou monas tery, told me. "There you will find the solid contemplatives." The area once called the "desert” was settled well over a millennium ago by the first monks who came to Athos, prob ably exiles from Palestinian monestaries. In their thirst for greater solitude and more prayer they pushed their way toward the precipices that bound the southernmost tip. Here the hermits still live like eagles on top of sheer rock with the heavens alone above and the surgin sea below. "Karoulia” in Greek means the pulleys. The monks on the farther - most precipe would lower ropes by means of pulleys to the sea below in hopes that passing fishermen would place a bit of bread or other necessi ties in the lowered baskets. After a tiring walk of four hours to Kerasia, about 2,500 feet above the sea, I was assured by a Greek hermit that I was fairly close to my goal. I learn ed quickly enough to distrust Athonite monks estimation of distances. The rocky path was downhill at least and led to a group of 20 or so small hermit huts scattered over the stoney hillside. My first destination was the house of the Daniel- aioi, the only place in this area of hermits where a visitor can find a night’s lodging. After I had met the commun ity of nine monks who devote their working hours to the paint ing of the icons, I asked direc tions to Karoulia. One of the young artists of Danielai- oi pdlnted out a cross on top of a Aighboring precipice. "Go to tip cross and you will find the path leading to the hermit Gabriel’s hut.” It all sounded easy, but on ar riving at the cross I began to admire the courage and ingen uity of hermits like Gabriel in their quest to seek privacy where tourists would fear to tread. I also began to realize my own physical fatigue from the all-day’s walk on a virtually empty stomach. So, rather than dangle from the chains that hung down the sheer cliff to pro- vice the sole means of support when climbing, I turned to the left of the cross and continued down the steep and winding path that led past a nest of hermi tages. The path had been built re cently by monks of the Brother hood of Danielaioi. It led from their house to the sea, where they had erected a pier. This pier serves as a shipping out let to the outside world for their finished icons. The most impressive hermit I visited that afternoon was Fa ther Nikon, the Russian hermit and relative of Helene Iswol- sky, my former Russian teacher of Fordham University. He is now 87 years old, but mentally he is very alert as he can switch with ease from Russian to English to French. When his long vigils, constant fasts, and prayers weakened him he was forced to leave his precariously - placed hut on the precipice overlooking the sea and to move to this relatively accessible hermitage taking with him another Russian to care for him. Father Nikon was a high- ranking tsarist officer of a noble Russian family. When the Revolution broke out in Russia, he fled to Europe and travel ed extensively, living in France, Italy, Germany, the Far East, but spending most of his time in England. When he spoke English to me, it was with a clear, trim accent; he usually began his statement with the phrase "My dear, the thing, you see is ... ” He came to the Mount in 1935, unable to find happiness, he said, in people or in travel. He proved to be one of the very few monks well-educated and eager to keep up his intellectual formation by reading broadly. Our conversation turned to the possibility of Christian re union. "No, my dear, it is a thing utterly, utterly impos sible," he said. I suggested that dogmatically, there are no differences that are irreconciliable. "No," he pro tested, "it is more than dog ma and words. It is a whole difference of life, of a different approach to God. No, Ortho doxy can never unite with Ro man Catholics!” He was most sure of himself and I saw that arguing would be useless. I wanted to take his photo, expecially to show Miss Iswolsky in America, but he objected strongly — not so much from religious humility as from shame to show himself to the world in his physically re duced condition. The next morning at eight o’ clock I set out to tackle the real Karoulia. I returned to the junc ture at the cross again with the hope of finding Father Gabriel’s hermitage. Instead of seeking out Father Gabriel, I decided to take the longer route which would bring me to the Russian hermits living in the most hidden crevices dug into the cliffs side above the sea. The way was really dangerous; foothold, sometimes hardly re cognizable, had been dug into sheer rock, with a chain run ning up and down the cliff as the only means of support. As I was cautiously making my way, I noticed a few yards ahead of me a monk descending quite nimbly with a bundle of tin roofing tied to his back. He had long reddish hair, loosely dangling around his shoulders. I was sure he was not a Greek monk, for the Greeks tie their long hair in a tight knot at the back of the head. As he rested, I approached from the back and greeted him in Rus sian. He was- Surprised and pleas ed, explaining that he was Ser bian but spoke Russian with lit tle difficulty. Stephanos was his name and he had been on the Ho ly Mount for only five years, first at the Serbian monastery and then here. When we reached th e house at the bottom of the steep path, he laid the tin roof ing down. He had only carried it down for one of his neigh bors, too old to make the dan gerous climb. He pointed out another hut. "That belongs to another Russian, Seraphim. He is very learned, having been in Russia an engineer. But if you meet him, you must not tell him this, for he is very modest and humble about his talents and he would be offended that I told you.” Next to Seraphim’s house was a hut that seemed literally to hang from the sheer cliff. It was undoubtedly the most in accessible house of all that I had seen. Stephanos said it belonged to two Serbians who were not at home at present. Stephanos showed me his chapel and a garden. He was the only hermit at Karoulia who had a plot of ground, and most of CARDINAL VISITS MISSION, TROOPS IN VIETNAM—During his annual Christmas tour of U.S. armed forces abroad Francis Cardinal Spellman, Archbishop of New York, was flown to central Vietnam where he inspected a Catholic mission and sev eral military bases. In top photo, the Cardinal is welcomed to Kontum by Dr. Pat ricia Smith of Seattle, Washington, who conducts a Catholic Relief Services Clinic for the mountain people of the area. Father Lentrade, M.E.P., a veteran French mission ary and some of Dr. Smith’s patients were on hand to greet the Cardinal. In bottom photo, Cardinal Spellman dedicates a monument to Lt. Col. Anthony J. Tencza of Ar lington, Va., an American Military adviser who was killed by the Viet Cong guerillas last July.—(NC Photo) GREEK MONKS SEEK CLIFFS FOR SOLITUDE - The southern tip of Mount Athos, Greece, known as Karoulia, has attracted the most serious-minded hermits of that Orthodox monastic stronghold. "Karoulia” in Greek means the pulleys (see bottom picture). The monks of the outer-most precipices lower ropes or chains by means of pulleys to the sea below in order to obtain food from passing fishermen. Most of the monks of Karoulia abide in the small huts (see top photo) that dot the stoney hillsides. The area once called the "desert” was settled well over a thousand years ago by the first monks of Athos and here the hermits still live like eagles on top of sheer rock. - (NC Photos) th e space was devoted to rais ing flowers for his chapel. He began making tea for me when Seraphim came over to help him repair the chapel. Their conversation on the spiritual life was most edify ing; I felt very small indeed before such ascetics. They sleep only a few hours, no more than four, and spend all the rest of the day and night in prayer. Only on Sundays and great feastdays do the monks come to Stephanos’ chapel for the Liturgy. And all they eat is dry bread and a bit of wild fruit, especially that of cacti, whereas for drink, they are content with rain water. From solid rock it is diffi cult to garner a living. Ste phanos, who had studied agro nomy in Yugoslavia, had car ried the soil from the backlands to form his "rock” garden. Here were ascetics who took seriously St. Paul’s admonition "to pray always.” From men such as these I was eager to hear their views towards Ca tholics. We soon were deep in a discussion about theology and difference between Orthodox and Catholics. They repeated the stock charges that I had heard from so many Greek monks, such as that Catholics had changed the Creed by af firming the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Son as well as the Father. Another complaint was a- gainst the Catholic practice of giving Holy Communion under one species only: "Catholics refused to obey Christ when He told us to drink His Blood.” This type of arguing was not pleasant, but it was a way to get at the basic thoughts of these holy ascetics towards Catho lics. When I left we kissed each other three times on the cheek in the traditional Russian manner. They could overlook the theo logical differences that sepa rated us and treat me as a brother in Christ. I was deeply touched by their sincere charity towards me when we spoke of the spiritual life; and complete ly bewildered by their closed minds when we spoke of theo logical and psychological dif ferences. I climbed a bit higher to visit Alexander, the last to arrive here from Soviet Russia, although he was very old. He was all alone and almost blind. He showed me his small chapel. After lighting an oil lamp before the icon of Our Lady he did three prostrations that evident ly were most taxing for him. He asked me if I could send him some money because no priest would offer the Liturgy in his chapel and give him Holy Communion unless he paid him 50 drachmas (about $1.75) each time. It was impossible for him to climb to Stephanos’ chapel, whereas Stephanos would not come to him, stating that be cause of his own unworthiness he wanted to celebrate only on Sundays and on great feasts. Several Greeks were not home, or'at least did not re spond to my knocking and call ing at their doors. It was a bit disappointing for the way I had to climb to reach these hide outs was quite difficult. I bal anced my sack containing my camera on my shoulder while hanging tenaciously to the chain or at one time to a ladder of wood which went up a perpend icular wall of rock. I stopped a few times to take breath taking pictures — they almost took my breath away as I gazed down to see below a chasm of sea or a ravine of rock. I knocked at one door. No answer. As I started away, a monk opened the door and stood there inviting me with a most engaging smile. This was the G reek hermit Chrysostom, one of the most deeply spiritual monks whom I was to meet on all of Mount Athos. He intro duced me to his disciple, the young monk Andronicos from Crete. Then he brought me to his "cave,” a deep hole under the cliff connected directly to his house. It was too damp to live in, but here Chrysostom spent his nights and long periods of the day in mental prayer. He spoke with a simple charm about the spiritual life and the various steps of prayer leading to con templation. His knowledge that I was a Catholic priest made no difference in the least. He was beyond all pettiness, for he regarded all men from God’s vantage point. As we parted, he was insistent that we con tinue our friendship by cor respondence. A day later I went on foot to seek out Father Ephraem, whose name I had received from a friend. A heavy rain storm broke a few minutes away from his house. He was on the porch, as though he were awaiting me. He received me most warmly and insisted that I pass the night with him. Ephraem belongs to a group of hermits who lead a unique life of solitude. Their "group” was formed under the saintly Father Joseph who died several years ago and whose place of guidance is now occupied by Father Ar- senius. These monks, like Ephraem and his disciple Joseph, live in separate houses, usually two monks together. In place of the traditional Church services of the Divine Office that are sung or recited daily by all other monks on Mount Athos, these hermits observe their own pe culiar schedule which allows a maximum time for mental prayer. When I had arrived in the rain about six in the evening Eph raem had just awakened. He sleeps four hours a day, and that quite interruptedly. At 7:30 p.m. he and his disciples enter their chapel and begin their long night vigil of prayer not reciting the office, but the Jesus Prayer "Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mer cy on me a sinner,”—at first orally, then privately, which leads to a more affective, si lent prayer. At midnight Ephraem cele brates the Liturgy with Joseph singing and receiving Holy Communion daily, a thing un heard of among other Athonite monks. Then they retire for a few hours of rest until 4 a.m. when they rise and begin their work about the house and their carving of wooden crucifixes. They eat once a day towards noon and then in the late after noon they sleep for a few hours until 6 p.m. I was present for this Litur gy which came as the climax of so many hours of intimate, affective prayer. As it was Saturday, the traditional day to commemorate the dead, Father Ephraem stood before the skull of his former spirit ual father and founder of this colony, Father Joseph, and sang a litany for the repose of his soul, all the while incensing profusely the skull of his form er teacher. The Greeks have a matter- of-fact realism towards death and the human body. After three years, the grave of a dead monk is unearthed and the bones stored in a common "pile” while the grave is prepared for the next dead monk. Ephraem is a young priest in his early 30’s. He radiates a spiritual happiness and sim plicity that exert a strong in fluence on all who meet him. But he is not at all morose despite His long hours of pray er, eating only once a day, four hours of sleep, and constant medication on death as pre sented so vividly to him by the ever-present skull of the her mit from whom he learned the secrets of the peculiar form of mysticism dating from the 14th century which is known as hesy- chasm—literally, quietness. With him there could be no conversation about differences between Orthodox and Catho lics. He was interested only in union with God. And this intimate union gave him a pro found love for all men. He, along with Father Chrysostom, reflects the acme in true Or thodox spirituality, a spiritual ity which surmounts all nation alism, all asceticism found in the one Church of Christ before the schism of 1054. These were some of the her mits I met in the environs of Karoulia. They convinced me of two striking facts. Firstly, that in proportion to an Orthodox monk’s growth in true contem plation and union with God, so also grow his love for his fel low Christian brethren, espec ially for Catholics. And his prejudices, inherited from long centuries of not directly know ing Catholics, are surmounted only by a complete immersion in God. The second conviction is that of the purity of the spirituality of these monk-hermits, in their efforts to imitate the teachings of the Fathers of the Desert and the Hesychastic Fathers. Along with this purity, kept alive for centuries in hidden hermitages on Mount Athos, there comes a direct contact with the one Church that at the time of the development of true hesychasm knew no schism and reformation, no "Orthodox” in the modern sense and no Pro- testatism. Catholics can learn from these Orthodox hermits the purity of hesychastic spirituali ty, a heritage that remains ever in the one Church of Christ, but, through developments made in the West, has somehow be come obscured or subjected to adaptation to meet exigencies of the time. Peasants ? Trek Seen As Dramatic Protest WORCESTER, Mass., - The action of 32 Siberian Christians who pushed their way into the U. S. embassy in Moscow was seen by an expert here as a dramatic protest against the Soviet Union’s current cam paign against religion. Father Georges Bissonnette, A. A., served from 1953 to 1955 as a Catholic chaplain for foreigners in Moscow and is now head of the foreign affairs school at Assumption College here, noted in an interview that the Soviet government "started a campaign of "administrative measures” against religious activity back around Septem ber.” He observed that the re cent incident at the U. S. em bassy could be a protest aimed at informing the outisde world about this campaign. The Siberian Christians who made a 2,000 mile trek from Chernogorsk to Moscow failed in their attempt to leave the Soviet Union. Soviet spokesmen said they have been sent back to their homes. One of the group said while at the embassy: "We were told that for our religious beliefs we would be put in prison and that our children would be taken away from us after January 1.” Father Bissonnett said that the Soviets, in a July, 1958 revision of their education sys tem, set up boarding schools to take children "out of the unhealthy atmosphere of a home of believing parents.” The former Moscow chaplain said that the protest could “bring a halt to the current ‘administrative measures’ ” if other protests come along. “But if it’s alone,” he said, "it won’t have much effect.” The Soviets might use the incident, he noted, as a “show case example that the country is tolerant.” Father Bissonnette explained that the current campaign of administrative measures against religion is not unique. Such campaigns come up from time to time. They are unan nounced except by the appear ance of references to "intensi fying the campaign against re ligion.” Then news starts com ing out about the closing of seminaries, churches and syna gogues. He mentioned a letter which Soviet Premier Nikita Khrush chev published in the Soviet organ Pravda back in 1954, protesting against a similar campaign which Comsomol, the Soviet youth organization, was conducting. Father Bisson nette said that Comsomol was probably chosen at that time as a "sacrifical lamb” to quiet protests. One of Khrushchev’s objec tions in his 1954 letter was that some communist party mem bers were thrown out of the party because of trumped-up charges of religious activity. Father Bissonnette said that in the current campaign, Soviet authorities have even started clamping down on Russian Orthodox activities—usually the last denomination affected— by closing down some of their seminaries. He said that the authorities have had trouble with the Jehovah’s Witnesses who refuse to serve in the armed forces. Protests like the one at the U. S. embassy, Father Bisson nette noted, are "one way that Russians try to reach the out side world.” These protests against religious persecution show up in other ways, too, he said, adding that the people sometimes protest through work slowdowns. ‘The Soviets get the message,” the priest explained, "Kruschev once called the protests , ‘vestiges of obscurantistic thinking’ and contrasted them with scientif ic atheistic materialism.” READY TO PUSH UNITY CRUSADE—Seminarians at Atonement Seminary in Wash ington, D.C.,display posters which they have prepared for observance of the Chair of Unity Octave—January 18 to 25. The Unity Octave, during which Catholics around the world join with several non-Catholic groups to pray for Christian unity, was start ed in 1908 by Father Paul James Francis, founder of the Society of the Atonement— (NC Photos)