Located 5km northwest of the town of Nafplio is the small village of Agios Adrianos (which in Turkish times was called "Katsigkri" after a Turkish Pasha), where a beautiful chapel can be found on a hill dedicated to Saints Adrian and Natalia, who are celebrated on August 26th. In this chapel is an iconostasis with a mysterious hole below the icon of the Virgin Mary, and is considered by many believers to be a miracle of Christianity.
According to legend, after the fall of Constantinople to the Ottomans in 1453, three Venetian ships fled the city filled with various relics to avoid their capture by the Turks, but the third which carried the Holy Altar of Hagia Sophia, sank into the waters of the Bosphorus in the Marmara region. Since then, in the exact area of the sinking, the sea is always calm and serene, no matter what weather conditions are prevailing in the area. This phenomenon is testified by modern Turkish scientists, who have attempted at various times to discover the cause of this strange phenomenon, but due to the muddy composition of the seabed, their efforts have been fruitless.
In his 1902 book titled The Defendant, G.K. Chesterton defends a bunch of apparently nonsensical things that are often viewed differently by others, with his characteristic humorous wit mixed with deep yet commonsensical thought. In chapter three he undertakes a defense of skeletons, which is an appropriate contemplation for Halloween.
By Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Some little time ago I stood among immemorial English trees that seemed to take hold upon the stars like a brood of Ygdrasils. As I walked among these living pillars I became gradually aware that the rustics who lived and died in their shadow adopted a very curious conversational tone. They seemed to be constantly apologizing for the trees, as if they were a very poor show. After elaborate investigation, I discovered that their gloomy and penitent tone was traceable to the fact that it was winter and all the trees were bare. I assured them that I did not resent the fact that it was winter, that I knew the thing had happened before, and that no forethought on their part could have averted this blow of destiny. But I could not in any way reconcile them to the fact that it was winter. There was evidently a general feeling that I had caught the trees in a kind of disgraceful deshabille, and that they ought not to be seen until, like the first human sinners, they had covered themselves with leaves. So it is quite clear that, while very few people appear to know anything of how trees look in winter, the actual foresters know less than anyone. So far from the line of the tree when it is bare appearing harsh and severe, it is luxuriantly indefinable to an unusual degree; the fringe of the forest melts away like a vignette. The tops of two or three high trees when they are leafless are so soft that they seem like the gigantic brooms of that fabulous lady who was sweeping the cobwebs off the sky. The outline of a leafy forest is in comparison hard, gross and blotchy; the clouds of night do not more certainly obscure the moon than those green and monstrous clouds obscure the tree; the actual sight of the little wood, with its gray and silver sea of life, is entirely a winter vision. So dim and delicate is the heart of the winter woods, a kind of glittering gloaming, that a figure stepping towards us in the chequered twilight seems as if he were breaking through unfathomable depths of spiders' webs.
But surely the idea that its leaves are the chief grace of a tree is a vulgar one, on a par with the idea that his hair is the chief grace of a pianist. When winter, that healthy ascetic, carries his gigantic razor over hill and valley, and shaves all the trees like monks, we feel surely that they are all the more like trees if they are shorn, just as so many painters and musicians would be all the more like men if they were less like mops. But it does appear to be a deep and essential difficulty that men have an abiding terror of their own structure, or of the structure of things they love. This is felt dimly in the skeleton of the tree: it is felt profoundly in the skeleton of the man.
The importance of the human skeleton is very great, and the horror with which it is commonly regarded is somewhat mysterious. Without claiming for the human skeleton a wholly conventional beauty, we may assert that he is certainly not uglier than a bull-dog, whose popularity never wanes, and that he has a vastly more cheerful and ingratiating expression. But just as man is mysteriously ashamed of the skeletons of the trees in winter, so he is mysteriously ashamed of the skeleton of himself in death. It is a singular thing altogether, this horror of the architecture of things. One would think it would be most unwise in a man to be afraid of a skeleton, since Nature has set curious and quite insuperable obstacles to his running away from it.
One ground exists for this terror: a strange idea has infected humanity that the skeleton is typical of death. A man might as well say that a factory chimney was typical of bankruptcy. The factory may be left naked after ruin, the skeleton may be left naked after bodily dissolution; but both of them have had a lively and workmanlike life of their own, all the pulleys creaking, all the wheels turning, in the House of Livelihood as in the House of Life. There is no reason why this creature (new, as I fancy, to art), the living skeleton, should not become the essential symbol of life.
The truth is that man's horror of the skeleton is not horror of death at all. It is man's eccentric glory that he has not, generally speaking, any objection to being dead, but has a very serious objection to being undignified. And the fundamental matter which troubles him in the skeleton is the reminder that the ground-plan of his appearance is shamelessly grotesque. I do not know why he should object to this. He contentedly takes his place in a world that does not pretend to be genteel--a laughing, working, jeering world. He sees millions of animals carrying, with quite a dandified levity, the most monstrous shapes and appendages, the most preposterous horns, wings, and legs, when they are necessary to utility. He sees the good temper of the frog, the unaccountable happiness of the hippopotamus. He sees a whole universe which is ridiculous, from the animalcule, with a head too big for its body, up to the comet, with a tail too big for its head. But when it comes to the delightful oddity of his own inside, his sense of humour rather abruptly deserts him.
In the Middle Ages and in the Renaissance (which was, in certain times and respects, a much gloomier period) this idea of the skeleton had a vast influence in freezing the pride out of all earthly pomps and the fragrance out of all fleeting pleasures. But it was not, surely, the mere dread of death that did this, for these were ages in which men went to meet death singing; it was the idea of the degradation of man in the grinning ugliness of his structure that withered the juvenile insolence of beauty and pride. And in this it almost assuredly did more good than harm. There is nothing so cold or so pitiless as youth, and youth in aristocratic stations and ages tended to an impeccable dignity, an endless summer of success which needed to be very sharply reminded of the scorn of the stars. It was well that such flamboyant prigs should be convinced that one practical joke, at least, would bowl them over, that they would fall into one grinning man-trap, and not rise again. That the whole structure of their existence was as wholesomely ridiculous as that of a pig or a parrot they could not be expected to realize; that birth was humorous, coming of age humorous, drinking and fighting humorous, they were far too young and solemn to know. But at least they were taught that death was humorous.
There is a peculiar idea abroad that the value and fascination of what we call Nature lie in her beauty. But the fact that Nature is beautiful in the sense that a dado or a Liberty curtain is beautiful, is only one of her charms, and almost an accidental one. The highest and most valuable quality in Nature is not her beauty, but her generous and defiant ugliness. A hundred instances might be taken. The croaking noise of the rooks is, in itself, as hideous as the whole hell of sounds in a London railway tunnel. Yet it uplifts us like a trumpet with its coarse kindliness and honesty, and the lover in 'Maud' could actually persuade himself that this abominable noise resembled his lady-love's name. Has the poet, for whom Nature means only roses and lilies, ever heard a pig grunting? It is a noise that does a man good--a strong, snorting, imprisoned noise, breaking its way out of unfathomable dungeons through every possible outlet and organ. It might be the voice of the earth itself, snoring in its mighty sleep. This is the deepest, the oldest, the most wholesome and religious sense of the value of Nature--the value which comes from her immense babyishness. She is as top-heavy, as grotesque, as solemn and as happy as a child. The mood does come when we see all her shapes like shapes that a baby scrawls upon a slate--simple, rudimentary, a million years older and stronger than the whole disease that is called Art. The objects of earth and heaven seem to combine into a nursery tale, and our relation to things seems for a moment so simple that a dancing lunatic would be needed to do justice to its lucidity and levity. The tree above my head is flapping like some gigantic bird standing on one leg; the moon is like the eye of a Cyclops. And, however much my face clouds with sombre vanity, or vulgar vengeance, or contemptible contempt, the bones of my skull beneath it are laughing for ever.
There are a few ways demons express their anger in physical form. One of the more characteristic ways, recorded many times throughout history till the present day, is by throwing stones. Demons throw stones at people in order to hurt those who anger them.
Anglo-Saxon demons seem to have had a particular penchant for throwing stones. Venerable Bede’s prose Life of Cuthbert records Saint Cuthbert (+ 735) mentioning the stone-throwing tendencies of demons: "How often have the demons tried to cast me headlong from yonder rock; how often they have hurled stones as if to kill me." In the tenth century Life of Saint Dunstan, the devil is blamed for hurling not one but two stones at the saint. The first incident occurs, rather interestingly, in a church, where the devil attempts to kill Dunstan and the bishop accompanying him with a large stone – ‘the stone was hurled down in a fit of madness by the malign enemy of every just work, drawing upon the armory of his wickedness’. In the second instance, the stone comes even closer, managing to ‘project the cap he wore a perch measure or so from his head’. Curiously, Dunstan elects to preserve this second stone in a church, in memory of the impotence of the devil’s schemes.1
Stone-throwing demons not only hurl stones at saints who frustrate their efforts to defeat them through temptations, but also at their followers who anger them for their disloyalty. An example of this can be read in The Alexiad of Anna Komnenos, daughter of Emperor Alexios Komnenos. Alexios had invited the leader of the Bogomils of Constantinople, Basil, to dinner in the imperial palace. During this dinner, Alexios cunningly and deceitfully extorted out of Basil a confession of the Bogomil faith, the contents of which were usually kept secret from the uninitiated yet was needed by the emperor for a conviction of Basil by the Holy Synod. Anna then records how after Basil's confession and the night before his imprisonment for heresy, he retired to a small house Alexios had built for him near the imperial palace. At midnight his appointed guard witnessed a hail storm rain upon the house of Basil and a sudden earthquake shook the ground and rattled the roof tiles; Basil merely shut the door and retired back into his house. This was interpreted as Satan tormenting Basil in anger for revealing his secrets to the emperor.2
A similar incident is recorded by an early New Hampshire colonist named Richard Chamberlain. For three months in 1682 rocks tossed by unseen hands battered the New Hampshire home on New Castle Island of George and Alice Walton, and crashed through their small leaded glass windows. A torturing hail of stones followed them into the fields, pelting their arms and legs, bruising the flesh. George Walton, an elderly tavern keeper and planter was struck full in the back. When he crossed from New Castle Island to the Portsmouth mainland by boat to report what was happening to him, a flying rock "broke his head".
The mysterious flying stones came and went all that summer. As many as 100 were reported in one session, always focused on Walton or anyone who happened to be near him. Walton reported being struck as many as 30 or 40 times. When he visited his son who lived up along Great Bay, the rocks flew at him in a field, but mostly they hammered at the Walton’s home. Some were hot, as if just taken from an oven, while some were cold as death. They ranged from tiny pebbles, to stones the size of a man’s fist, or as large as a human head. Chamberlain records many other frightening incidents of the devil's mischief both inside and outside the house.
Chamberlain was staying on the second floor of Walton's tavern and was a eye-witness of the events. 16 years later he published his journal recording this event titled "Lithobolia", a Greek word he apparently created that translates to "Stone-Throwing", in reference to the devil's mischief. The full title is nearly 100 words:
Lithobolia: or, the Stone-Throwing Devil. Being an Exact and True Account (by way of Journal) of the various Actions of Infernal Spirits, or (Devils Incarnate) Witches, or both; and the great Disturbance and Amazement they gave to George Waltons Family, at a place call’d Great Island in the Province of New-Hantshire in New-England, chiefly in Throwing about (by an Invisible hand) Stone, Bricks, and Brick-bats of all Sizes, with several other things, as Hammers, Mauls, Iron-Crows, Spits, and other Domestick Utensils, as came into their Hellish Minds, and this for the space of a Quarter of a Year.
There are a few explanations for this incident suffered by poor George Walton, who was marked with injuries till the day he died. One is that Walton, a Quaker, had himself been accused of wizardry after he accused his neighbor Hannah Jones of being a witch. This was the result of a property dispute. According to Chamberlain, Hannah Jones angrily told Walton that he "should never quietly injoy that piece of Ground". Her comment was taken for a bewitching curse and, therefore, evidence that Jones’ witchery had likely summoned the Stone-Throwing Devil. Cotton Mather, a powerful Puritan man who served as a judge less than a decade later at the deadly Salem Witch Trials, wrote about this incident and saw it as a precursor to the hysteria of Salem. Another explanation however sees this as an elaborate "prank" by Puritans to drive the Quaker Walton's out of New Hampshire. The Walton's were a scandalous family to the Puritans on many accounts, and if a natural explanation were to be given, this would fit best. Yet it hardly explains every incident, especially those recorded in the house, and certain supernatural elements in the story.
In south-eastern Oklahoma, on a hot summer night of 15 June 1990, the McWethy family, Bill and Maxine, their 18-year-old daughter Twyla and her baby Desireé, sought relief by moving their chairs into the front yard, hoping for a breeze. Without warning stones began to catapult at them from the darkness. Assuming it was local kids pulling a prank, they went inside annoyed. Yet the attack continued for 24 hours, breaking some windows of their home. Being a small town with no police station, they investigated the incident with neighbors, but found no source to the stone-throwing. The attacks continued. One day, while 50 people were gathered at the McWethy residence to find the culprits, they decided to take fifty stones and mark them with nail polish, throwing them in every direction around the house to locate the source. Within minutes they all came sailing back. Even better, someone decided to throw them in a nearby pond, and within moments they came flying back ... wet. There were many other incidents of this happening and many investigations, and eventually it was discovered that a spirit was behind the activity. When asked why this took place, the only explanation Mrs. McWethy could give was something strange and interesting: "Cause we stay up late at night."4
The infamous Goldfield Hotel is an abandoned hotel located in Goldfield, Nevada. It's paranormal activity has been so serious that the owner of the hotel has forbidden anyone to go inside it due to the likelihood of them getting hurt. Before the Ghost Adventures crew received a weekly television show on the Travel Channel, they filmed an award winning documentary titled Ghost Adventures: The Beginning where they filmed their paranormal investigation of the Goldfield Hotel, among others. During this investigation, one of the best paranormal footage in existence was recorded when a lone brick on the ground breaks every law of gravity by violently flying into the air all on its own and is hurled into an opposite wall with high velocity. Victor H.S. Kwong, professor in the Department of Physics for the University of Nevada Las Vegas, reviewed the brick footage and said that it would be impossible to pull a brick of that size and weight with such velocity without using a thick string that would surely have reflected the light from the investigators' cameras and therefore be very clearly visible. Video footage and the analysis can be seen in the video below (Warning: footage is unedited and contains foul language):5
We will end with two other malicious incidents of demonic stone-throwing recorded in the book Contemporary Ascetics of Mount Athos by Archimandrite Cherubim Karambelas. In the chapter on Elder Sabbas the Father Confessor, we are told about stone-throwing demons on Mount Athos in the early 20th century. Archimandrite Cherubim gives us a full account of these two stories:
The Book of Magic
Somewhere in Chalkis, the relationship between a man and his wife had become very strained. The husband did not lead a normal life, but lived in a strange, obscure manner. His face took on a repulsive expression. He had broken away from the Church; he wanted nothing to do with Church life, and especially not with the Sacraments. His unfortunate wife tried in every possible way to bring him back to God, but he was unyielding. Finally she understood that she must take a hard position.
"Listen to me. You have made my life unbearable. If you won't come to receive Communion on Pascha, I am going to have to leave you. It will be impossible for us to live together. I want Christ to rule in our family."
The persistence, pressure, threats, and heartfelt prayers of this good Christian woman were not in vain. The husband saw that by his behavior he was in danger of irreparably destroying his home, his future, and the future of his children. His soul was shaken, and he resolved to return to the light.
Great was the darkness hidden within him, for the unfortunate man had descended to collaborating with the demons; he had trained himself in magical arts. This is what had kept him so stubbornly away from the Church. He understood that he first of all needed a confessor. The Holy Mountain was not far away, and there he went, seeking the right person. He found Fr. Sabbas.
How different was his return journey! He was renewed inside. Instead of confusion, chaos, and darkness, he saw a new regenerated world. Relief and tears of joy shone on his face as he finished his confession. What peace he felt, what a lightening of his burden! But there was still something else to get rid of. He stretched out his hand, holding a certain book.
"Take this book also, my Father. This was the cause of my catastrophe."
It was a Solomoniki (a book of magic), the essential manual of all who study magic.
"Why are you giving it to me? It wants burning. Take it and burn it somewhere away from here."
On his way from the Kalyve to St. Anne's Skete, he saw a large hole in the rock. In this cavity the Solomoniki was soon reduced to ashes. The Evangelist Luke wrote about a similar incident: "Those who followed magic arts made their books into a heap and burned them" (Acts 19:19). Fires like these are a joy to the angels, a wounding of demons. Such books of darkness and stench should not circulate among us.
Still more relieved, the man continued on his way. He happened to meet Fr. Hilarion, a disciple of Fr. Sabbas.
"Convey my respects and boundless gratitude to the father confessor. And tell him that the book was burned in the cave above here."
Fr. Hilarion continued heedlessly towards the Kalyve. But when he reached the cave, showers of great boulders fell around him, thundering and rolling down the hillside. Terrified, he reached the Kalyve and told the Elder what had happened.
"It was the work of Satan, my child."
When he had recovered from his fear, he remembered to convey to the Elder the words of the man he had passed on the road. He remembered about the burning of the book. When Fr. Sabbas explained who the man was and what book he had burned in the cave, he understood what had happened.
Not only Fr. Hilarion experienced the stoning, however - it happened to everyone that passed by that place. In the end the road became impassable, for nobody dared to come near that place. Disturbed, the fathers sought the help of Fr. Sabbas. He fasted, prayed, sprinkled the cave with holy water, and the evil spirits retreated. He advised the fathers to place an icon of the Theotokos and a lampada within the cave. Thus the road became peaceful as before.
Today those who pass by there often stop and sing "Meet it is..." to the Theotokos, with no danger. Some fathers have told us, however, that occasionally there is still demonic activity in that place, mainly when a disciple who has broken obedience passes by it.
The Strange Shower of Stones
A young pastry-cook from Thessalonika, Athanasius, felt aversion for worldly life, and resolved to take the monastic schema and live in the Holy Monastery of Dionysiou. As a novice at Dionysiou he was sent to Monoxilitis, a Metochion within Mount Athos, to receive monastic training.
In the meantime, his parents in Thessalonika were embittered by the decision of their cherished only child. They moved heaven and earth to "save" him, to bring him back to the world. They did not even hesitate to seek the help of Satan, resorting to magic and sorcery.
Athanasius suddenly began to feel pressure, as though there were a heavy weight on him. He himself in his former life had dealt in magic, and so was not uninitiated in such matters; therefore he correctly guessed what his parents were doing. He felt an anguish that became more and more intense. Something very unpleasant was hanging over him. From inner need he prayed more frequently, painfully emphasizing the phrase in the Lord's Prayer, "Deliver us from the evil one."
The other brothers of Monoxilitis suspected nothing of this. One morning after the service as they were preparing for their work, stones suddenly began falling on them from the forest above. Luckily for them and for the property of the Metochion, they suffered no harm. They waited a while - some passers-by, apparently, had an appetite for jokes. But when they began their work again, stones started flying from behind them. Then they understood that something serious was happening, and they took refuge in the church. They did not dare to leave it, for as soon as they did so the stoning would start again. Stools, wooden forms for the monastic skoufias, and other objects were hurled through the air. Their dog was thrown three meters down from where he had been lying.
Soon some policemen who had been notified came from Karyes. They searched the area and shot volleys in the direction the stones came from. Finally they realized this was not the work of men, but of unseen enemies.
Then the novice Athanasius came forward and explained the cause of the mischief.
"To completely persuade you," he finished, "let me go by myself over there to the little church of St. Artemius, and you'll see that stones will follow me."
This is what happened. The stones fell all around him, but without hitting him.
After the demonstration they isolated him in the church. The steward of the Metochion, Fr. Porphyrius, sent a letter asking for a boat from the Monastery. From the moment Athanasius left the church until he disembarked at the harbor of the Monastery, terrible things happened. It is a wonder that the boatman did not faint from terror. "The stoning did not cease on the sea, even though they were a distance from the shore. The stones kept falling, but fortunately around the boat, without doing any damage" (Gabriel of Dionysiou, The New Evergetinos, p. 65).
Between the shore and the courtyard of the Monastery, all was quiet. This encouraged several people to call it an illusion. A sudden shower of stones from a nearby tower, however, silenced them.
The Council of Elders, which assembled immediately, made the decision "to send the novice to the God-bearing Elder, Fr. Sabbas ... so that he may deliver him." The general conviction of the fathers was that the prayers of Fr. Sabbas could flog the evil spirits.
The Kalyve of the Resurrection underwent a week of hard trials. There was an atmosphere of war - an open war between the powers of light and darkness. There was continuous, deafening noise. Enormous boulders came loose from the nearby cliffs, flying by and over the Kalyve, and hurtling with terrible crashes down the nearby precipice into the sea. Fierce voices uttering blasphemous words disturbed and sullied the area. And there were insults - unwonted insults against all monks, and especially against the confessor. All the stench of Hades revealed itself.
The man of God, disregarding his deep old age (he was then in his last years), gave himself up to great struggles. For a whole week he kept a complete fast, praying continually. "This kind goes not out but by prayer and fasting" (Matt. 17:20). His compassionate heart could not endure seeing God's creation undergoing such tyranny.
At the end of the week, the Elder, with steadfast, unwavering faith in the Resurrected Lord, approached the sufferer. The evil spirit became agitated.
"I banish thee, ... O unclean spirit ... by God Who created all things by His word, and by our Lord Jesus Christ ... Fear, begone, flee, depart from the servant of God Athanasius ... Depart to the dry, deserted, uncultivated places...."
And thus it happened. It seemed as though something came out from Athanasius' mouth. The undesirable occupant disappeared, "like smoke vanishes". The words uttered by the Spirit-bearing mouth of Fr. Sabbas struck the demon like a flaming sword. Instantly the novice became calm and quiet, sighing with relief. Out of boundless joy and gratitude he fell at the feet of the confessor, kissing them and moistening them with tears.6
"O Saint of God, you have saved me, you have taken away the horrible weight. Oh, thank you! You rescued me from the dreadful serpent. Glory be to Thee, my God!"
Athanasius stayed with his physician for several more days. By his advice, he went to the Skete of Koutloumousiou, where he remained. Fr. Habbakuk - the name he received at his tonsure - is distinguished among the fathers by his austere ascetic life. He never forgot the unforgettable Elder who had saved him from the power of the devil.
An unusual phenomenon seems to have appeared outside of the Church of Saint Demetrios in the village of Avlonari in Evia (Euboia), which some are declaring a miracle.
A form similar to a human face seems to have been formed at the main entrance to the church, as can be seen in the pictures below. Many attribute this to lighting, but whatever it is, the images are shocking.
Indeed, from the time the photographs were published, several people have gone to the spot to see the human face up close.
The photos were published on the Facebook page "Avlonari, such a lovely place".
The administrators said it is not due to editing, and in one post they wrote:
"Last night we saw above the main gate of the church the formation of a sweet face, of a young man or woman. The lighting... perhaps; the shade from the tree... perhaps; the wind that blew... perhaps; our mental mood with our many problems... perhaps, perhaps!"
About the Sacred Church of Saint Demetrios in Hania Avlonari Evia
In the regional settlement of Hania Avlonari, is the triune Church of Saint Demetrios, the oldest church in Evia.
The church was built over the ruins of the ancient Temple of Artemis.
Its general construction dates back to the eleventh century.
Remarkable elements of the church are its imposing Byzantine frescoes and especially the supernatural depictions of Archangels on the walls of the nave, the elaborate pottery decoration before the gate, and the very important brickwork decorated with pseudo-elements on the east side, which is also a separate component for the dating of the church.
Source: August 20, 2013 - Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
A Vigil Outside the Church to See the "Miracle"
Is it a miracle or a mirage? Many were those who rushed to the Church of Saint Demetrios in Avlonari in order to see with their eyes the phenomenon of the appearance of a "face" above the door of the church at night.
Although the Metropolis of Fthiotidos, to which the church belongs, has not publicly expressed an opinion on this issue, not a few are quick to talk about a "miracle".
The more "down to earth" are speaking of a trick of the moonlight with the shadow of a tree which can be found outside the church.
The local television station Star Central Greece went to the site and found both unbelievers and the gullible, as well as doubting Thomas', who went by the church at night to see the phenomenon.
Source: August 21, 2013 - Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
Did Elder Paisios have a recipe for "lucky bread"? Some are arguing that not only did he create it, but they have it.
But what is the truth about this "lucky bread" of the Athonite Monk?
It is commonplace for some religionists who are possessed by a series of superstitions to intermingle them with patristic teachings, and thus "distort" big names of the Church. This is particularly true of the names of contemporary elders. The most "burdened" of such "distortions" is Elder Paisios.
This phenomenon is not new. From the history of the Church we know that some people use names and things to convey their teachings or practices which the Church does not use or accept.
An anonymous letter often has no value, but when it has a name it is likely to mislead many. Specifically, there is a widely circulated recipe for making bread by Elder Paisios with some instructions.
They call it "the lucky bread of Saint Paisios" which brings luck to whoever makes it. It is good not only for one's self, but for one's family.
For several years some have cunningly circulated this in monasteries to advertise themselves as spiritual children of Elder Paisios or of some Athonite Elder, as some ordinary Christians have reported, and they send these recipes through photocopy, or email, or by any other way.
This recipe says the following: For Friday's "lucky bread" the Christian should knead flour of a particular brand and split it into four parts. One part should be baked and the other three should be given to three other Christians, who in turn should do the same. On the first day you add yeast, on the second you add sugar, etc.
It also says that the recipe comes from the Holy Mountain or Jerusalem in several variations. At first glance it naturally seems to be a joke. But it isn't. In fact, it is very serious.
Many simple Christians fall into such procedures without knowing anything else except that it is some "teaching" of the well-known Elder. In fact, all of this fabricated - it is a fake.
A counsel of Elder Paisios, which he characteristically stated, was simple: "My telephone is my prayer rope." He said this to emphasize that communication with God is through prayer. This is what we must do, say the clergy.
As the Church often says on these occasions, when we are not sure about something, it is good to communicate with our parish priest.
By Archimandrite Achilles Tsoutsouras,
Chancellor of the Sacred Metropolis of Larissa and Tirnavou
Winter. Few visitors at the Athonite Monastery. Arriving at the gate, we are greeted by the Chief Host (Archontaris) who offers to us the standard Athonite treat, raki and a loukoumi. He notifies us, to our great surprise, that in a few hours there will begin a great Athonite Vigil in the Katholikon of the Monastery. A gift from God, we said, and we thought to go rest for the all-night Service.
"Where will you go now?" was heard from the voice of the Monk as he went down below to the gardens for his active service (diakonia) as well as to feed the animals, who made known their hunger by their loud shouts.
"We have nowhere else to go, Elder: either to the Library or to our Cells for a little rest."
"Come with me so you will not leave here and get lost," shouted the Monk.
"May it be blessed," we said and immediately followed him.
We passed through the garden with its lettuce, its eggplants and its huge pumpkins which we saw for the first time, and the hospitable Monk brought us up to the garden shed, in a makeshift balcony, one would say, about 70 to 80 centimeters wide, which faces the Aegean. He began to bring out the treats at his disposal - coffee, cookies, sesame seed candy, dried bread - while at the same time he guided us through the unknown region.
Suddenly, below the wooden balcony, there appeared a ragamuffin Monk, of great age, smiling kindly, holding a sack made of hair on his shoulders. We thought the ascetics perhaps heard about the Sacred Vigil and arrived to participate.
"Elder," said the Monk to him, "wait two minutes to see our guests and that we may treat you. Come up near to us and rest. The first time uphill is difficult."
"May it be blessed," said the unknown to us Monk and like lightning he was found to be beside us.
"I am leaving to go feed the animals. They cannot wait any longer. Shut the door and go up by yourselves," said the Chief Host Monk, and he left.
For a little while silence prevailed, neither he spoke to us nor we to him. Then we realized the great difference. Out in the world, at this time in the early afternoon there is bustle, noise, commitments, jobs, stress, and continuous running. Here in the Athonite State it is a time of silence, a mystical preparation for the Mystery of Life, the Divine Liturgy. All have begun earlier, preparing quietly in complete silence, stillness, inner gladness, and mystical prayer of the heart in order to live the Mystery, to experience the event, to partake in actuality the Despotic strangeness of the immortal Table, to become an eternal diner at the table of Christ, and from there passing into new worlds to be worthy to live the Mystery in the future life.
It was then that we took advantage of the opportunity to ask of the Elder a word from his experience. "What do you want me to say? What ever I tell you will be a loss of time. I have no gifts and I do not deserve your attention. You tell me however. What is going on out there in the world?"
"The world is filled with problems, Elder" replied a child in our company. "Everyone runs around anxious, and no one is interested in the future of our young people and our country."
"Don't worry, there is a God, the end has not come. Not even the invisible Elders have been saved. This place is full of them." And he showed above us Old Man Athos.
"What did you say, Elder? Who are these invisible ones? If you want, explain this to us, we are interested in it. Have you ever seen one of them?"
At this point our anxiousness peaked, staring at the Elder motionless, as if we were not breathing at all. We wondered how such a burning and topical issue came up naturally for discussion, of which few of us had heard of.
"Do not fear. God will resurrect our nation. He is testing us because we forgot Him. Despising God, living far from Him, we have built false earthly paradises and forgot the Heavenly one. But the Saints have not been lost, nor the naked ones, the invisible Fathers of Athos. This place is full of them. When they are lost, then be afraid, because then will come the end of the world."
"Who are they, Elder? Where do they live? Do they exist even today?"
"My child, they are the invisible ascetics, the naked Athonites, the mystical Elders, who live in this garden of our Panagia, Mount Athos."
"How many are there, Elder?"
"There are plenty. Some say nine, others seven, others ten, and yet others twelve. They abide in the more isolated areas of Athos and are invisible to our eyes. They appear here and there to whomever they want, usually monks who have purified their hearts, but sometimes they make their presence felt to blessed pilgrims who live a clean Christian life.
Elder Arsenios the Cave-dweller would say in his stories that these invisible and silent anchorites live with strict asceticism and their work is unceasing prayer, that is, to pray with the heart for the whole world and for all people who are in danger.
They have received a special gift from the Lord, which is why they are able to live under snowy Athos without shelter, without clothes, while being invisible to the eyes of people. It is unimaginably difficult for people in the world to believe, yet in the last two hundred years they are increasingly being revealed. I have met in my monastic life spiritual people and Venerable Elders, who encountered before them these invisible soldiers of our Lord.
God has allowed even today, from these steep cliffs for such ascetics to emerge, true anchorites, who live in impassible Athonite places, primitive, simple and meager, and they survive by a miracle from God. Indeed, here at the Holy Mountain there is a tradition that when one of them reposes in the Lord, they are replenished by other virtuous, ascetic, Athonite Monks.
It is said that these naked hermits will be the ones who perform the last Liturgy on the peak of Athos, and after the Divine Liturgy, following the 'Through the prayers of our Holy Fathers...', the end of the world will come, that is, the Second Coming of Christ. In fact, the same will not taste death, but they will be changed, be transformed, and they will be altered even more by the Grace of God."
"Elder, where are these hermits today and where were they seen the last time? Did Fr. Paisios ever see them?" we asked.
"Look, how would I know. However, Fr. Paisios did not want us to talk about these ascetics, because they do not want such glories, as he would say to us. They are the truly smart ones, supplicating God and saying to Him: 'My God, do not give us glory on this earth, but keep it for the next life, that we may be glorified with You, there. Do not make us known here, but in Heaven.' Further, Fr. Paisios would say confidentially to pilgrims who visited him, clerics and monks, that there are seven invisible naked ascetic Fathers, who live on Athos, around which they move and rotate, and when one dies, God replaces him with a God-bearing Charismatic and Spirit-bearing Monk.
The old Elders, who were made worthy to encounter them several times, before they reposed in the Lord, they would narrate to the younger ones this encounter, how they saw them, suddenly saw them, what they felt, etc.
Come, let us go now. You have work ahead of you," said the Elder as he said his good-byes and took the path of ascent.
Indeed, we glorified the Holy God who sent us this unknown man near to us, to whom the Grace of God definitely visited and whom we met in the garden of the Monastery. He opened to us his heart, and benefited us especially by telling us such important things about the naked ascetics, emphasizing to us that our Church is revealing and daily showing us Saints, new citizens of the Kingdom of God.
We went up to the Monastery and the Vigil began, this time all of us understanding how in the wintry night we had next to us helpers and supporters in the blessed Fathers of the Sacred Monastery in which we kept vigil. Those blessed people who were motivated by Divine eros to dedicate their life to God, our visible protectors and non-deluded guides towards the Kingdom of Heaven. And surely, not too far off, others were vigilantly praying, our invisible intercessors, the ones naked to our eyes but brilliantly dressed with the uncreated Grace of our Holy God. They who with their prayers uphold the entire world. Those mystical Elders who experience prayer as a burning in the heart and chant unceasingly the ode of the Beloved with their crystalline voice, which come from inside the steep cliffs of the heavenly-neighboring Athos.
Source: From the periodical of the Sacred Metropolis of Larissa and Tirnavou titled To Talanton (November-December 2012). Translated by John Sanidopoulos.
Ciccio, a 12-year-old German shepherd, waits in vain in front of the altar of the Santa Maria Assunta church in the village of San Donaci in the southern region of Puglia.
He heads to the church as soon as the bells begin to ring each afternoon, just as he did for years when his owner was alive.
The woman, who was known in local dialect as "Maria tu lu campu" - "Maria of the fields" – died suddenly in November.
Ciccio attended the funeral, following his mistress's coffin as it was carried into the church.
The dog's devotion has so impressed villagers that they have adopted him as their own, giving him food and water and letting him sleep in a covered area outside the church.
The local priest, Donato Panna, allows him to sit in front of the altar during Masses, baptisms and other services.
He is now hoping to find a new home for the faithful hound.
His behaviour is reminiscent of Greyfriars Bobby, a Skye Terrier who became famous in Edinburgh for spending years guarding the grave of his owner.
The annual Vasaloppet China Ski Festival at Jingyuetan Park in Changchun, China takes place on January 2nd. It covers an area of 40,000 square meters with a total capacity of 70,000 cubic meters of snow. Through the hands of professionals, the snow is transformed into some of the most famous buildings in Europe. Among them is the amazing Russian-styled Orthodox Church at this years festival, which was still being worked on as of December 24th.
One of the most spectacular winter destinations in the world is Harbin, China (where the largest Orthodox Church in the Far East is located, named Saint Sophia Orthodox Church) on Sun Island for the Sun Island Snow and Ice Sculptures. It is one of the coldest destinations in China. The festival usually goes from mid-December till mid-January and attracts thousands of tourists. Below are photos of a church sculpture and the Church of Saint Sophia in Harbin.
Locals in the Bajina Basta municipality, western Serbia, are freaking out after the local council has issued a warning about the famous vampire Sava Savanovic being on the loose and thirsty for blood.
Sava Savanovic is a popular figure of Serbian folklore, known as the first vampire in Serbia. According to legend, he lived in an old watermill on the nearby Rogačica river, where he killed and drank the blood of peasants who came to the mill for their grains. Scary stories like this are not uncommon, but the people of Zarozje village, where the mill is located, actually believe their local vampire is real. They had no problem living near it, as Savanovic hasn’t hurt any of them for centuries, but now that his home has collapsed, they fear he may take revenge on them. ”People are worried, everybody knows the legend of this vampire and the thought that he is now homeless and looking for somewhere else and possibly other victims is terrifying people. We are all frightened,” mayor Miodrag Vujetic told the press.
The run-down mill was functional until the mid 1950s, when it was bought by the Jagodić family, who later turned it into a tourist attraction. The legend of Sava Savanovic attracted crowds of tourists from all over Serbia, and proved profitable for the local community, only the Jagodić were so frightened by its sharp-fanged inhabitant that they never came near it, not even to perform repairs. The mill collapsed recently, and that’s when everyone started panicking. Garlic sales are booming in Bajina Basta, as locals believe the smell will keep Savanovic at bay, and plans to restore the mill as soon as possible have been set in motion. Unfortunately, with winter just around the corner, repairs will have to wait till spring, so in the meantime the local council has issued a vampire warning and advised people to use garlic and put a Holy Cross in every room of their homes.
Mayor Vujetic said he understands why someone who has never lived in the region would laugh at their fears, but made it very clear that none of the locals have any doubt vampires are real. Reported accounts of strange growls, neither animal nor human, coming from the old mill, and of a dark tall individual standing next to it in the dead of night, don’t help matters much, either.
On Celebrity Ghost Stories (Season 4, Episode 13), Debbie Matenopoulos spoke about her experiences with a haunting in her former castle-like home (Wolf’s Lair mansion in Los Angeles’ Hollywood Hills, built in the 1920's), for which she called in a Greek Orthodox priest to perform a blessing and an exorcism.
The episode can be viewed here. The segment begins at the 33:00 minute mark.
When I was in high school I would often spend my lunch and free time in the library reading. My goal was to acquire the knowledge one could not receive in the classroom. Among the books that caught my eye was a twelve-volume encyclopedia of the occult and strange practices throughout the world. Fascinated, I ended up reading all twelve volumes.
One evening around this time, when I was about 17 years old, I was sitting alone on my couch watching television. Specifically, I was watching one of my favorite shows at the time, the game show Jeopardy. For those who don't know, Jeopardy features trivia on a wide variety of topics, and for every answer one of the three contestants get correctly, they win a certain amount of money, and the one who has accumulated the most money by the end of the game, wins what they have earned. My knowledge of the topics was nowhere near where it is now, but the quiz show was a fun way to test the level of your knowledge on a wide variety of subjects.
The show at the time would air every weekday evening at 7:30 PM, and on this particular evening I was doing rather horrible. As I recall, by the time it came to the final Jeopardy question, I believe I had only answered three of the questions correctly. This was a disappointment to me.
Now the hardest question in Jeopardy and the one that could be worth the most money is the last one, and I was hoping to get it correct after my poor performance. But before this final question, my local channel at the time would air the daily lottery drawing at 7:55 PM. One of the things I liked to do was try and guess the four numbers of the lottery drawing, and I never guessed correctly. Upset by my Jeopardy performance, I was really hoping to guess the right numbers to make me feel better. My usual method was to simply call out four random numbers, and that's it. This time however, I closed my eyes, concentrated real hard, and pictured four numbers. This was a technique of trusting one's intuition to harness one's psychic abilities that I learned in the occult encyclopedia. I wasn't very serious about it. In fact, I was only joking around. I can't remember the numbers I called out that day, but in the order I pictured those numbers in my mind, in the same order were they drawn. I was speechless, yet amazed and excited at the same time. "If only I had played the lottery!" I thought.
Reinvigorated, I sat up from my slumbered position on the couch, and awaited the final Jeopardy question. The topic was announced to be the name of a person. The host asked the question, and though I cannot remember the question except that it asked for the name of a very obscure person, one thing I knew was that I had no idea what the answer was nor could I even understand the question. I didn't even bother guessing, because how can you guess the name of an obscure person? But then I remembered my technique I used to guess correctly the numbers of the lottery. So I closed my eyes and concentrated on a very obscure foreign name that I had never heard of nor even knew existed. As I did this a name came out of me, that sounded more like a made up name than anything else. I knew it was wrong, but I said it anyway. This name was so obscure, long and hard to spell, that I cannot even recall what it sounded like.
The host asked the three contestants for their answer. As they showed the answer they had written, one by one got the answer wrong, causing two contestants to lose all their money, and the winner had only one dollar left. Then the host told them the answer. Till this day I shudder when I say this, but my random "fake" name was in fact the correct answer.
Whereas before when I guessed the lottery numbers I was amazed and excited, this time my jaw dropped and I became a bit troubled after a few seconds of astonishment. Over the next minute or two I wondered what to do with this strange ability to predict things correctly. If I harnessed this power, maybe I could become rich and powerful.
But things did not feel right.
Opposite my couch were a few holy icons. When I looked at them I knew deep down inside that something was wrong, so I decided to make the sign of the cross, kiss the holy icon of the Virgin Mary, and I vowed I would never play around with predictions like that again. All it did was bring about temptations, and it felt like those predictions didn't even come from me. When I said this, I felt a great burden come off of me.
Over the years I have studied many psychics and mediums, and though a great majority of them are charlatans, I have also come to believe there is an authenticity to some of them. Many of the legitimate ones start out with experiences similar to mine, and they go on to read books on the subject and practice techniques to harness their ability. For the most part, the authentic psychics are not bad people, but whether or not they say they use their powers for good, they are deluded by evil spirits. As St. John Climacus similarly writes about people who believe their dreams can predict the future:
"The demons of vainglory prophesy in dreams. Being unscrupulous, they guess the future and foretell it to us. When these visions come true, we are amazed; and we are indeed elated with the thought that we are already near to the gift of foreknowledge. A demon is often a prophet to those who believe him, but he is always a liar to those who despise him. Being a spirit he sees what is happening in the lower air, and noticing that someone is dying, he foretells it to the more credulous types of people through dreams. But the demons know nothing about the future from foreknowledge. For if they did, then the sorcerers would also have been able to foretell our death."
Archaeologists excavating a monastery near the city of Sozopol, Bulgaria, discovered the 700-year-old remains of two males who had been stabbed through the heart with iron rods — an indication that their 14th century contemporaries believed them to be vampires. The sensational discovery was made during the excavations of St. Nikolai Chudotvoretz Monastery, which was built at the harbor (St. Nicholas is the patron saint of sailors) and existed in the 10th-12th centuries. The find was discovered in a necropolis close to the semicircular building part.
More than 100 such “vampire” graves have been discovered in Bulgaria recently, all of them containing male aristocrats or clerics whose bodies had been repeatedly stabbed or nailed into their coffins after death.
Bojidar Dimitrov, head of the Bulgarian National History Museum, told the Sofia News Agency that ”these people were believed to be evil while they were alive, and it was believed that they would become vampires once they are dead, continuing to torment people.”
“The curious thing is that there are no women among them. They were not afraid of witches,” he added.
Prof. Bojidar Dimitrov supposes that the found skeleton belongs to the legendary pirate Krivich, the superintendent of the Sozopol fortress, or his heir. Nearby is the Church of Sts. Cyril and Methodius, where a woman in fact was found buried in the same manner.
The findings have sparked intense interest among vampire-lovers in Europe, Asia and the United States and could transform Bulgaria into a “tourism gold mine,” according to CNN.
When you buy a house, you end up feeling like you will be paying it off until the world ends.
Well, how about one of these luxurious condos, which come with all the mod-cons, as well as a pool, a movie theater and a library - oh, and a guarantee that it will survive Doomsday if and when that fateful day comes.
For these luxury flats, deep below the Kansas prairie in the shaft of an abandoned missile silo, are meant to withstand everything from economic collapse and solar flares to terrorist attacks and pandemics.
Naturally, there will be no one around to phone if the guarantee fails - but at that point, the insurance will probably be the least of your worries.
So far, four buyers have thrown down a total of about $7million (£4.4m) for havens to flee to when disaster happens or the end is nigh. And developer Larry Hall has options to retro-fit three more Cold War-era silos when this one fills up.
Hall said: 'They worry about events ranging from solar flares, to economic collapse, to pandemics to terrorism to food shortages.'
These 'doomsday preppers', as they are called, want a safe place and he will be there with them because Hall, 55, bought one of the condos for himself. He says his fear is that sun flares could wipe out the power grid and cause chaos.
He and his wife and son live in Denver and will use their condo mostly as a vacation home, he says, but if the grid goes, they will be ready.
Hall isn't the first person to buy an abandoned nuclear missile silo and transform at least part of it into a shelter.
Built to withstand an atomic blast, even the most paranoid can find comfort inside concrete walls that are nine feet thick and stretch 174 feet (53 meters) underground.
Instead of simply setting up shop in the old living quarters provided for missile operators, Hall is building condos right up the missile shaft.
Seven of the 14 underground floors will be condo space selling for $2 million a floor or $1 million a half floor. Three and a half units have been sold, two contracts are pending and only two more full units are available, Hall said.
For now, metal stairs stretch down to connect each floor but an elevator will later replace them. The units are within a steel and concrete core inside the original thick concrete, which makes them better able to withstand earthquakes.
Hall is also installing an indoor farm to grow enough fish and vegetables to feed 70 people for as long as they need to stay inside and also stockpiling enough dry goods to feed them for five years.
The top floor and an outside building above it will be for elaborate security.
Other floors will be for a pool, a movie theater and a library, and when in lockdown mode there will be floors for a medical center and a school.
Complex life support systems provide energy supplies from sources of conventional power, as well as windmill power and generators.
Giant underground water tanks will hold water pre-filtered through carbon and sand. And, of course, an elaborate security system and staff will keep marauding hordes out.
The condo elevator will only operate if a person's fingerprint matches its system, Hall said. Cameras will monitor a barbed-wire topped fence and give plenty of warning of possible intruders. Responses can range from a warning to lethal force.
The Russian military is taking the phrase "getting by on a wing and a prayer" to new heights after creating a flying church, complete with paratrooper priests.
The unique high-tech air-dropped church consists of a usual army tent and a life-sustaining module including a diesel power source, air conditioner and fridge, and is put on the ground with an airborne platform used to carry armored vehicles and other heavy military equipment, according to the Russian news site RT.com.
Officials say the airborne chapel is needed because the Russian Orthodox Church requires special sacraments that demand a substantial number of utensils such as bells and crucifixes.
But in order for the plan to take flight, Russian military leaders are drafting some chaplains who are experienced paratroopers, according to the Sun.
A parachuting church seems unusual, but it's part of a long line of weird items that have been dropped since the first parachute was created around 1470, Shelterpop reported.
For instance, Hummers were parachuted onto the battlefield during the Iraq War operations and the British have been parachuting dogs since World War II.
No word on when the flying church will launch, but Russian officials reportedly expect them to be ready soon.
