Monthly Archives: August 2024
People are weeping – St. Tikhon of Zadonsk
On this day we remember St. Tikhon of Zadonsk, a man born into a poor Russian family in 1724. He excelled in school, and after attending seminary became a teacher, and then a monk. After being elevated to the bishopric, at one time he had over 800 churches under his care; the story of his life is well told: here.
It was a huge job, and he accomplished a great deal, but his health began to suffer to the point that he wasn’t able to carry out his duties. He was transferred to a monastery in Zadonsk, and in solitude and relative rest continued to write. Bodily afflictions didn’t cease, but changed, and he became plagued with insomnia and depression, as this article “Victor over Melancholy” explains:
“It was a time of desperate and total battle with his thoughts, of overcoming the spirit of melancholy, despair, and despondency, and of a reassessment of his life circumstances; in the end, his soul acquired the priceless experience of overcoming, and with that the boldness to comfort the despairing….”
Being in seclusion was in some ways harder than overseeing hundreds of parishes, and the saint considered a petition to go back to his former overly-busy life. But eventually he gave up trying to change his situation, and gave himself to ministering to the many needs of the people in the community:
“In the small house where he lived, he organized a type of hospital for those who contracted any kind of illness on the way to work or on pilgrimage. He also offered spiritual alms, tearfully praying for the needs and illnesses of those closely and not so closely known by him.”
His writings were widely read by this time; in one of his compilations of “spiritual treasures” he exhorts us:
“We see in the world that people are weeping… They are born with weeping, live with weeping, and die with weeping. People weep because they live in the world—a place of weeping, the vale of tears… And you weep, Christian!… Weep, while time yet remains, while tears are yet beneficial. Weep, and you will not weep eternally. Weep, and be comforted.” Source
The first Orthodox monastery established in the United States is dedicated to St. Tikhon of Zadonsk: St. Tikhon’s Monastery in Pennsylvania was founded in 1905 concurrently with an orphans’ home, and the current campus is shared with St. Tikhon’s Seminary and Bookstore as well.
Before falling asleep in death, at the age of 59, St. Tikhon was delivered of his melancholy. But in the years previous, during which his writings were proving beneficial to so many, it’s clear from them that his spiritual struggles were already bearing fruit. His example is inspiring, and his words confirm it:
“A manifest sign of love for God is a heartfelt gladness in God, for we rejoice in what we love. Likewise love of God cannot exist without joy, and whenever a man feels the sweetness of the love of God within his heart, he rejoices in God. For so sweet a virtue as love cannot be felt without joy. As honey sweetens our throat when we taste of it, so the love of God makes our heart glad when we taste and see that the Lord is good (LXX-Ps. 33:9 [KJV-Ps. 34:8]). –“On Love for God”
Saint Tikhon was glorified on Sunday August 13, 1861.
Betwixt the North wind and the Sun.
I’ve showed up again to tell you that summertime is the best thing. Lucky me, I live in a temperate climate, and do not have to rush about meeting deadlines put upon me from other people; my days often pass in what seems like a natural and unhurried way, even at my work: in winter I carry wood and build fires, and at this time of year, there is lots of strenuous gardening to do.
Excepting the occasional heat wave, it’s typically just Very Warm midday, with the nights down to 50, and the cold fog often hanging on until late morning. One morning in July I used the furnace, which showed me that I am turning into an old lady. This week included another extra-chilly awakening, but I took the conservative route and added a wool cardigan to my first two layers.
So, summertime is perfect, in my case, for sharing a poem mentioning The North Wind. His counterpart around here is The Marine Breeze. I’m not that close to San Francisco, but I do often think of the comment (mis)attributed to Mark Twain: “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.”
What I love is that at least by noon, and usually much earlier, I can walk around my garden in the pleasant air and eat breakfast next to the pineapple guava tree, where graceful arches of salvia flowers lean in, and the Sun persuades me to take off my sweater.
THE NORTH WIND AND THE SUN
Betwixt the North wind and the Sun arose
A contest, which would soonest of his clothes
Strip a wayfaring clown, so runs the tale.
First, Boreas blows an almost Thracian gale,
Thinking, perforce, to steal the man’s capote:
He loosed it not; but as the cold wind smote
More sharply, tighter round him drew the folds,
And sheltered by a crag his station holds.
But now the Sun at first peered gently forth,
And thawed the chills of the uncanny North;
Then in their turn his beams more amply plied,
Till sudden heat the clown’s endurance tried;
Stripping himself, away his cloak he flung:
The Sun from Boreas thus a triumph wrung.
The fable means, “My son, at mildness aim:
Persuasion more results than force may claim.”
-Babrius, aka Aesop (2nd century) Syria
Translated by James Davies
The patient amity of a stone.
A REQUEST
Should my tongue be tied by stroke
listen to me as if I spoke
and said to you, “My dear, my friend,
stay here a while and take my hand;
my voice is hindered by this clot,
but silence says what I cannot,
and you can answer as you please
such undemanding words as these.
Or let our conversation be
a mute and patient amity,
sitting, all the words bygone,
like a stone beside a stone.
It takes a while to learn to talk
the long language of the rock.”
-Ursula K. Le Guin
Gladsome Lights 