Category Archives: saints

Abba Poimen

St. Poimen (or Pimen, or Poemen) the Great was born in Egypt in about 340. He and his two brothers joined themselves to a monastery in Scetis. After raids on Scetis caused the monastics to disperse, they began to assemble the Sayings of the Desert Fathers (the Apophthegmata Patrum), in which St. Poimen is the abba or poemen (“shepherd”) most often quoted.

“For many of the monks, Saint Pimen was a spiritual guide and instructor. They wrote down his answers to serve for the edification of others besides themselves. A certain monk asked, ‘If I see my brother sinning, should I conceal his fault?’ The Elder answered, ‘If we reproach the sins of brothers, then God will reproach our sins. If you see a brother sinning, do not believe your eyes. Know that your own sin is like a beam of wood, but the sin of your brother is like a splinter (Mt. 7:3-5), and then you will not enter into distress or temptation.'”

“Once, a monk from another country came to the saint to receive his guidance. He began to speak about sublime matters difficult to grasp. The saint turned away from him and was silent. They explained to the bewildered monk that the saint did not like to speak of lofty matters. Then the monk began to ask him about the struggle with passions of soul. The saint turned to him with a joyful face, ‘Now you have spoken well, and I will answer.’ For a long while he provided instruction on how one ought to struggle with the passions and conquer them.

“Saint Pimen died at age 110, about the year 450. Soon after his death, he was acknowledged as a saint pleasing to God. He was called ‘the Great’ as a sign of his great humility, uprightness, ascetic struggles, and self-denying service to God.” oca

 

Stories about St. John of San Francisco.

St. John (Maximovitch) of Shanghai and San Francisco reposed in 1966. Twenty-five years later Hieromonk Peter Loukianoff, who had been close to St. John in the last few years of his life, and whose family had known the saint since the time they lived in Shanghai, wrote down his recollections: “Remembering Vladika [Bishop] John.”

Partly this was to correct falsehoods that had begun to circulate in the years since Archbishop John had reposed. In addition to conversations Acolyte Peter had with his bishop about various matters that might be of interest mainly in the altar, he relates many stories from everyday life that illustrate what kind of man St. John was, and the profound effect of his life on those who knew him.

St. John of Shanghai and San Francisco giving a sermon. Pavel Lukianov, the author, is the acolyte.
With Acolyte Peter

He conveys how fatherly St. John was with the youth, including alar servers such as Peter — kind and gentle even when he was strict. Peter Loukianoff himself was consecrated a bishop in 2003, and was eventually elevated to the rank of Archbishop of the Diocese of Chicago and Mid-America. He reposed in 2024.

One of the stories is about St. John’s feet:

From the day of his-monastic tonsure, Vladika slept in a sitting position. As a result he had swollen legs and it was painful for him to wear proper shoes, so he wore sandals. At home, in his cell, or when he served at St. Tikhon’s he often went barefoot–not for the sake of foolishness-for-Christ, but because it was easier on his feet.

Abbess Theodora, the late superior of Lesna Convent in France, told how once when Vladika was visiting the convent one of his legs gave him great pain, and she called a doctor, who prescribed rest in bed. Vladika thanked her for her solicitude but refused to lie in bed; nothing could persuade him. “Then,” related Matushka, “I myself don’t know how I was so bold, but I said to him bluntly, ‘Vladika, as the abbess of this convent, by the power given me by God, I order you to lie down.'” Vladika looked with surprise at the abbess, and went and lay down. The next morning, however, he was in church for Matins, and that was the end of the “course of treatment.”

And another story is about his letter-writing:

 Vladika’s daily schedule was as follows: In the morning he served Matins, followed by the Hours and Divine Liturgy. After services, if he served in the cathedral, he would stop on the way home in some hospital where he would visit all the Orthodox patients. Arriving home, he would tend to business. In addition to his official duties, he received scores of personal letters to which he would reply himself. (In his three and a half years in San Francisco he received more than ten thousand letters.)

At the top of each letter Vladika always neatly placed a large cross. In folding the letter to place it in an envelope I had to make sure that the cross was not creased or put in sideways or upside down. Vladika did not allow us to lick envelopes shut, and insisted they be opened with a knife. He used to remark with a smile that only Stalin ripped envelopes.

St. John was canonized in San Francisco on July 2 1994.

Holy Virgin Cathedral in San Francisco

She was planted in the stillness.

“In the wide stillness of the Alaskan tundra—
where the sky stretches open like a prayer
and the rivers flow between worlds—
God planted a soul full of hidden beauty.”

So the life of St. Olga of Alaska began in 1916, in the village of Kwethluk. The story of her life and how she became a saint is well worth reading here: “Righteous Mother Olga.” 

Services for her glorification this week will be livestreamed: Livestream services

We are having services in celebration at our parish in California as well, joyfully adding her to the company of Orthodox Saints of North America for whom we are so thankful.

Guided by the heavenly light
and touched by Christ’s rich mercy,
thy loving hands heal the wounds
of those hurt in the past.
Thy soft voice encourages all
to remain faithful to God,
for the eternal Lord will give the steadfast
a crown of life.

O holy Mother Olga,
visit us with love and reassure us,
that we may accept whatever cross we must bear
as chosen by the merciful God,
and that, through thy prayers,
we do the will of God
for the salvation of our souls.

-Hymn for the Feast

In the crypt, and in Heaven.

Saint Demetrios entered the story of my trip to Greece almost at the beginning, and before I end my telling I want to bring him back into it more fully. As I write, I’m still in Greece, but in Athens and on my way home.

The Church that houses the saint’s relics was built on the site of a Roman bath house, believed to have been the place of his imprisonment and death. Emperor Maximian Galerius — yes, the same one who built the Arch and the Rotonda — had appointed young Demetrios proconsul of Thessalonica district, not knowing that he was a Christian.

One of his duties was to put to death Christians, but instead he preached the faith, and was said by some to be a “second Apostle Paul,” for Thessalonica.

When Galerius found out, he ordered his imprisonment, and eventually his death, on October 26, 306. This article tells the story of his life in detail, including subplots concerning his friend Nestor’s martyrdom at the same time, how Demetrios became so beloved of the Slavs, and how he never would allow his relics to be moved to Constantinople.

St. Demetrios mosaic Kiev, 12th century

During the reign of St. Constantine the first church was built on the site, and in later centuries the Christians began using the old bath house structures.

It was during the Ottoman rule when it was a mosque that the underground part became cryptic or “secret,” because whether by their intent or neglect, it was filled with earth and forgotten, until the fire of 1917 that destroyed much of the city; during restoration work on the church the crypt was revealed.

In recent years Orthodox services are often held in the space. I walked up to the church last Friday for Divine Liturgy that was served down there, where so much history is embedded in the stonework and the venerable marble floors.

The day before, the priest at the Church of the Panagia Acheiropoietos had reminded me, over coffee in his office, that there is nowhere on earth that God’s blessing is not present. You might think that He is here in Greece in a way that He is not to be found at the North Pole, for example, but it’s not true.

I have been thinking about that a lot. We Orthodox pray daily to the God Who “is everywhere present, and fills all things.” Also, we experience the eschaton at every Divine Liturgy, when Christ descends to commune with us.

The presence of God has been my experience in Greece, and He will be as immanent as ever back home when I return to the “same old” everlasting mercies of God new every morning. As I embark on my long, long day of travel, I hope I can keep in mind this constancy of grace.

Given the dailiness of our earthly pilgrimage, I can’t be too sad to leave Greece, and at the same time I’m extremely thankful for the short and rich time I’ve had here. Glory to God for all things.