The Characters
AXINTE FRUNZĂ – Latin teacher, pilgrim to the Holy Mountain
PANTELIMON THE RED – hermit on Mount Athos
FILARET THE HIEROMONK – monk at the Provata-Cucuvinu
Skete PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE – hermit on Mount Athos
TEODOSIE SOROCEANU – abbot of the Provata-Cucuvinu
Skete GAVRIIL THE GREEK – hieromonk
PAHOMIE – the monk
ALBANEZUL
All the characters are real.
Instrumental background music, played very softly.
AXINTE FRUNZĂ (in a low voice): Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
The verse of the prayer grows fainter and fainter, and then fades away.
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
THEODOSIUS: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
FILARET: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
PAHOMIE: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
PANTELIMON THE RED: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
The hermit’s prayer is recited in sequence at the beginning, but may at some point overlap, with the words overlapping.
As the play unfolds, the monk’s ever-present prayer – ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner’ – will accompany us like a leitmotif.
Scene 1. At the Rehearsal
AXINTE, TEODOSIE
The toaca can be heard somewhere in the distance.
AXINTE (speaking as if to himself): Athos. The Holy Mountain comes alive only at night. From midnight onwards. Now, with the tolling of the bell, life stirs. The lights come on in the churches and, through the open windows, the lamentations of hearts consumed by longing… for happiness, pour forth. A dialogue between Professor Axinte Frunză and the hieromonk Teodosie Soroceanu, abbot of the Provata Cell.
AXINTE: Father Abbot… (he pauses, a little flustered)
TEODOSIE (gently): Go on, Brother Axinte.
AXINTE: Why… does a man enter the monastic life?
TEODOSIE: Are you suggesting you’d like to stay with us here?
AXINTE: I don’t know what my mother back home would say.
TEODOSIE: Wealth, glory, one’s wife, children—everything that people cherish and desire—are fleeting. They will pass quickly, like a shadow. You see… The world is God’s creation. But the corruption of the world is the consequence of sin. Sins separate man from God. The monk wishes to flee from sin. But as sin is so deeply interwoven with the world, monks renounce the world.
AXINTE: But can’t you live without sin in the world?
TEODOSIE: When our Christian conscience—which is a gift of Baptism—awakens within us, we see that both God and the world are calling us. Each in its own way. We find ourselves at a spiritual crossroads, yet free to choose how we wish to live. We want to live as Christians in the world, but we see that the world’s ways would overcome us. And we would end up living just like everyone else. Therefore, because the call of conscience to God is stronger than the call of the flesh to the world, we renounce the world and come to a monastery to follow Christ. It is a free choice, a conviction.
AXINTE (as if to himself): On Athos, by day, one sees no one. Just as the rocks and forests are silent, so too are the monks silent and almost invisible: the young ones rummaging somewhere amongst the rocks, the elderly shut away with their prayer books.
The dialogue continues between Professor Axinte Frunză and Hieromonk Teodosie Soroceanu, abbot of the Provata Cell.
TEODOSIE: What you build day by day, with toil and labour, you can squander in an instant with a worldly thought or a thoughtless word. Yet those who are still young—those aged 25, for example—have one consolation: that in five or six years’ time they will be old, and that wisdom and the rest will come of their own accord. But only the elderly know how treacherous the mind is, how cunning the whisper of temptation.
AXINTE (speaking as if to himself): Abbot Teodosie Soroceanu and the other five monks at Chilia Provata-Cucuvinu welcomed me with love. From here, up high, at Provata, I can see the glacier on the northern slope of Athos and a corner of the sea. I cannot help but wonder: what made my friends from across the River Prut, accustomed to low-lying lands with gentle undulations, come all the way to such heights? Could it be a call that has come from long ago, a legacy left by our ancestors in the Carpathians, this longing for the blue heights?!…
TEODOSIE: Professor, pilgrims come here in autumn and winter. Russians, in particular. Romanians come too, but fewer of them. Teachers of Greek and Latin, like yourself, want to see ancient manuscripts, precious gospels and sacred art. They go to the great monasteries, painted by the skilled craftsmen of old. There they can worship the holy relics and the miracle-working icons.
AXINTE: I didn’t come here for the great monasteries, for beautiful chandeliers, holy icons and even relics can be found – thank God – in Iași too. I do understand, however, that travelling like this, through the wilderness, and on foot as I dream of doing…
TEODOSIE: It’s dangerous to go alone. You don’t even have a letter of recommendation, either from a bishop or from someone at the ministry. The Mountain Police don’t mess about with strangers travelling alone.
Scene 2. A miracle
AXINTE, TEODOSIE, GAVRIIL, THE ALBANIAN, FILARET
AXINTE (narrating in amazement): For the past few days, especially on the sand in front of the church, little crosses have been appearing… Very small crosses, but clearly visible.
AXINTE: It’s true, Father, that a few years ago, here in Provata, some relics appeared.
TEODOSIE: How do you know?
AXINTE: I heard. Some Russians were talking about it, further down…
TEODOSIE: We haven’t made a fuss about it.
AXINTE: Nor is a word said about the little crosses that can be seen from time to time in the sand, along the path. But now an Albanian who’s been working on repairing a wall has rushed off to tell Father Gavriil, an elderly Greek monk who lives in a little cell further down the valley, somewhere in the woods.
GAVRIIL: Did you see it?
THE ALBANIAN: Yes, Geronda. There’s no sign of human hands.
AXINTE: It wasn’t long before the Greek saw them with his own eyes. Little crosses. It’s true that they disappear when the wind blows; but towards evening or in the morning they reappear, more or less in the same places. Little crosses near the church, little crosses amongst the vegetable beds.
AXINTE (live report): It’s evening now, around sunset. I’m walking along the path that leads to Catafighi. Suddenly, a shadow. It’s Father Gavriil! He’s sneaking up behind me. Is he following me?! He has the gaze of a tiger! He looks me in the eye for a moment, then runs off, gnashing his teeth. Father Gavriil has lost his mind. He thinks he’s exposing a charade, a ‘miracle’ fabricated by the Wallachian monks at Provata Hermitage.
GAVRIIL (angrily): Is that so?!… Is that how it is with you lot?!…
TEODOSIE: What’s the matter, Father?
GAVRIIL: Agurtia mu!1 Charlatanism. Blasphemy! Ha-ha! A Wallachian miracle! Ha!…
FILARET: What miracle, Father?!
GAVRIIL: Ha-ha!… Blasphemy.
TEODOSIE: What on earth are you on about, mate? 2
GAVRIIL (angrily): A miracle! Ha!… Blasphemy!!!
FILARET: Calm down, Geronda!
GAVRIIL: Nonsense!
TEODOSIE: Calm down, Geronda! What’s happened?…
AXINTE (worried): He’s made a discovery that’s giving me cold sweats. I am guilty of a monstrous sacrilege, of a mortal sin. Father Gavriil has realised that the ‘miracle’ of the little crosses in the sand is due to the rubber soles of my boots. A desecration as unintentional as it is grave.
TEODOSIE: Professor, the depiction of the sign of the Cross on the ground is forbidden by Canon 73 of the Sixth Ecumenical Council. Here is what the Pidalion states: ‘We command that any depictions of the Cross made by anyone upon the face of the earth be erased in their entirety, lest, by being trodden underfoot by those who walk, the sign of our victory be defiled. Therefore, from now on, we command that those who make the sign of the Cross on the ground be excommunicated.”
AXINTE: I can foresee the prospect of the ultimate disgrace: being driven out of the Holy Sanctuary with stones, pursued along the road as far as the harbour, only to be sent home.
TEODOSIE: Besides, how can you possibly know what mark might come off the sole of one’s boot? (Outraged by the commotion caused by the Greek) And listen to this: blasphemy? Desecration of the Cross? But where is the man’s fault? Was it so hard for the devil to nail the Holy Cross to the heels of the ignorant? And where? In the midst of a world gone astray, Christian in name only, a world that no longer knows of the church, the Cross, fasting, Confession or Holy Communion. A sin?… Well, well… (Gently) You seem downcast, Professor.
AXINTE: May God forgive me. I’ve caused you trouble…
TEODOSIE: Never mind, Father Gavriil isn’t exactly… You know what we’ll do? You’ve always wanted to visit the hermitages, the caves, our people. You’ll go.
AXINTE: Father, I can’t believe it. This is my dream: to visit the Romanian hermitages and huts around Mount Athos.
TEODOSIE: At least for a week, I won’t have to see you round here. And I’ll give you a young priest, Father Filaret, as your guide. He served his apprenticeship under an old hermit in the upper reaches—the wildest part of the Mountain—and knows better than anyone all the nooks and crannies, all the hidden corners of Athos.
Music – leitmotif.
FILARET: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
TEODOSIE: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
FILARET: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Scene 3. Travellers
AXINTE, FILARET
The sound of the waves can be heard.
AXINTE (narrating): The boat dropped us off at the south-eastern tip of the Holy Peninsula. We’re heading straight up, along a sort of staircase carved into the rock by human hands, centuries ago… The summit of the mountain, Athos, is 2,033 metres high.
FILARET (gasping slightly): It’s sweltering. I’ve taken out our spare shirts. When we get to that narrow pass over there, let’s have them ready.
AXINTE: Rock on the right, rock on the left, forwards, backwards. Just a sliver of sky above. Silence – like in a deserted church.
Scene 4. Kirașa
FILARET, AXINTE
FILARET: Kirașa, or Kerasia as the Greeks call it, covers most of the southern coast of Athos. A wilderness… Here there is peace and tranquillity. A place of salvation like no other. (Contentedly) And there are plenty of our own folk round here too. There are two or three Russians as well, but there are still more of our own. The Saviour said: ‘Do not store up treasures on earth, where moths and rust destroy them, but in the Kingdom of Heaven’.
AXINTE: My companion has every reason to be content, for whilst other nations – Germans, French, English… – know no rest, roam the seas and lands, America, Africa, fight, struggle like madmen – and in the end, for what? Merely to have something for the moth and rust to destroy – our compatriots have chosen a different path. They know nothing of the Congo, California, Australia… the Holy Mountain is their only land of emigration. Kirașa is their California. Here they amass wealth that moths cannot destroy, which ‘neither the thief can dig up nor steal’.
Music – leitmotif.
FILARET: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Scene 5. Pahomie
AXINTE, FILARET, PAHOMIE
AXINTE (to himself): Near a dwelling that resembles ours, my guide, Father Filaret, recognises someone. The beast that seemed to be gnawing near the den stands up on two legs and looks towards us…
FILARET: Through the prayers of our Holy Fathers…
PAHOMIE: Lord…
FILARET: Do you still recognise me, Father Pahomie?
PAHOMIE: Filaret! I recognised you by the way you walked… But aren’t you alone?
FILARET: With a worshipper. One of our own.
Silence.
FILARET: Father Naftanail, is he still up there?
PAHOMIE: Still up there.
FILARET: Is he all right, in good health?
PAHOMIE: He’s fine, quite all right, though he did break his arm… by the spring. Last autumn. Oof!…
FILARET: That’s a real ordeal. But what about Father Gheorghe?… Still in the cave?
PAHOMIE: Still there, yes… Oof!… (sighs deeply: meaning he’s not doing too well)
FILARET: What’s the matter with him?
PAHOMIE: It’s highly likely that the devil’s power is at the heart of it all. Father Gheorghe’s been behaving strangely, and the Lavra’s planning to take his hut away from him and send him to the madhouse in Careia. Woe betide poor Father Gheorghe!
FILARET: Lord Jesus!… (silence)
AXINTE: What do you eat out here in this wilderness, Father?
PAHOMIE: I don’t eat much, so that I can keep moving. (silence) May your food be a remedy, not poison!
Music.
PAHOMIE: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.
Scene 6. Pantelimon the Red
AXINTE, FILARET, PANTELIMON THE RED
AXINTE (to the audience): Father Filaret, my guide, is carrying at least 30 kilograms on his back. He needs a little rest. But where can one doze off for even a moment? Out here amongst these crags, it’s impossible to find two square metres of flat ground where one might stretch out.
FILARET: We’re going to see Father Pantelimon, as he’s from Cotiugenii Mari – one of our own. And he’s not far away either.
AXINTE: Father Pantelimon’s hut is a bit ramshackle, but solid, built entirely of marble boulders. Next to it, an open shed serves as both kitchen and dining room. We stretch out on the two mats and lose ourselves in the oblivion of all earthly toil.
Music.
AXINTE: How long have I been asleep?… I open one eye and catch sight of a strange two-legged creature, staring with utter amazement first at me, then at my companion, who is stretched out behind the table. I notice his reddish beard, thick with bristles, his lively blue eyes, his forehead weathered by the scorching sun and winds, criss-crossed with furrows, and his body barely covered by a tattered monk’s robe. Could it be Father Pantelimon?!…
PANTELIMON THE RED (laughs softly, childishly): Ha!… (joyfully) Bless me, Father Filaret!… I never would have believed it was Your Holiness. With a beard and a moustache… I wouldn’t have recognised you! You’ve grown… You’ve come into your own…
FILARET (awakened from his sleep): Well, so have you, Your Holiness! I know God has blessed you with good health. You’re as big as a…
PANTELIMON THE RED: As big as a buffalo!… (Buffalo) Ha ha!… (laughs contagiously, like a man who lives for a good laugh) Well, we old folk, we’re holding our own!… Ha ha!… Well, forgive me, I’ve disturbed your sleep.
FILARET: Never mind, we’ll sleep tonight as well, for we’d like to go to Your Holiness. Before this evening, he’d like to see Father Pantelimon as well. (To Axinte) The other Pantelimon.
RED PANTELIMON: Right, right… And when you come, in an hour’s time, I’ll treat you to a little borscht. Right… Go this way, keep heading uphill. I haven’t seen him for ages, but he must be at home, in the cave. I’ll get started on the cooking straight away. (laughs) Haha!…
Music.
Scene 7. Pantelimon from the cave
PANTELIMON FROM THE CAVE, AXINTE, FILARET
AXINTE: My companion, Father Filaret, seems puzzled. Before us lies a ravine with tree trunks mangled by the recent earthquakes and rocks that have fallen from the heights. A grim grave, 1,600 metres above sea level. Nowhere is it easier to come to terms with the thought of death than on the Holy Mountain.
FILARET: What a temptation! I don’t understand a thing.
AXINTE: Shall we go back?
FILARET: No. With God’s help, onwards.
The music swells, subsides, fades into the background.
AXINTE: A place of salvation, indeed… Not a soul, not a bird… But where could the hermit be?
FILARET: Shh!… Do you see the cave?
AXINTE: Ah… I can see it. Right at the bottom, beneath the marble wall of the ravine…
AXINTE (as if to himself): I can see an irregular opening, about a metre or so high, five or six metres long, and at the back, in the darkness, something like a little cottage… I can also make out the two little windows of the little house, in front of which stands a wall, only about three-quarters of a metre high. It is clear that the hermit would not want anyone to climb over that wall, which also has a gate. We do not dare to knock.
FILARET: Through the prayers of our Holy Fathers, Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.
Silence.
FILARET (repeats the prayer more loudly): Through the prayers of our Holy Fathers, Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us!
AXINTE: He’s probably not at home.
FILARET: Yes, he’s at home. (shouts) Have mercy on us!
AXINTE: How do you know he’s at home?
FILARET: If he weren’t here, the wooden cross would be leaning against the door. (shouts) Have mercy on us!!!…
AXINTE (trying it himself, shouting): Have mercy on us!!!…
Knocks on the gate.
FILARET: Let’s just go in anyway!
AXINTE (as if to himself): I step first into the courtyard, which is one metre wide, and enter a narrow corridor, just wide enough for one person. I strike a match. To the right, a dark pit, the bottom of which cannot be seen. In the pit there must be the cistern, that is, a large stone reservoir where rainwater collects. But there is no water to be seen. To the left, the same narrow, dark passageway continues. We come across a door and an empty, damp room. It smells of raw rock. Then… another door and another small room. Here, in a corner, is a small, lit candle. Down in the middle of the room, a tattered monk’s robe, on which someone has been lying. A faint echo. We are in a cave.
AXINTE (whispering): Let’s go. If the hermit isn’t home…
PANTELIMON FROM THE CAVE (a deep, subterranean voice): He’s at home.
AXINTE (as if to himself): A man of about… 45 appears in the doorway, thin, gaunt, with a sallow face, an almost black beard and… almost naked. He seems dazzled by the light.
Silence for a few moments.
FILARET: But where have you been, Father, for so long?
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: I was in the barn, but you didn’t see me… in the dark.
FILARET: In the barn?
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: I’ve got a toothache. One of my eyes hurts too. I’ve also got a twinge.
FILARET (on the verge of tears, with a lump in his throat): So you stay in the stern when you’ve got pains like that, Father?!…
AXINTE (astonished, stammering): With twinges, in the sternum?!…
PANTELIMON FROM THE CAVE: I wouldn’t be in the cave because of the twinges, nor because of my eye. It’s the tooth that’s bothering me.
AXINTE (in amazement, whispering): All on your own, like that… Without a companion, a relative… In the cave?!!!… Wouldn’t it be better to get out into the fresh air, into the sunshine?
PANTELIMON FROM THE CAVE: I need neither the sun nor relatives, nor anything.
AXINTE: Where are you from, Father?
Silence.
FILARET (whispering): From round here, where else could he be?… There’s only our lot round here… (to Pantelimon, louder) But for the sake of it, I’d say you should head down to Carulia. There’s a Russian there…
PANTELIMON FROM THE CAVE: He’s drunk. He’s no use at all.
FILARET: Don’t let the fact that he’s drunk put you off. He’ll slip a noose round your neck and give it a tug…
PANTELIMON FROM THE CAVE: I don’t need anything. Nothing…
Silence.
AXINTE: Have you been here on your own for a long time, Father?
As if of his own accord, Father Pantelimon of the Cave begins to recite from the First Epistle of Saint John the Apostle.
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: Our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son, Jesus Christ 3 (pause). …God is light, and in Him there is no darkness at all 4 (pause). Whoever says, ‘I have come to know Him,’ yet does not keep His commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him. But whoever keeps His word, in him the love of God has truly been perfected. By this we know that we are in Him 5. (pause) …the darkness is passing away, and behold, the true light is dawning 6.
AXINTE (still astonished, as if to himself): Suddenly, I notice that on his right foot, on his heel, the hermit has a horrifying wound. A fresh wound, still bleeding. I feel like crying out in pain (he feels like weeping). I murmur a greeting and withdraw. Before leaving the cave, I strike a match to catch one last glimpse of the sternum. Lord Jesus!… I see the damp bottom of the pit and, as if from the clutches of death, I tear myself away into the light of day.
PANTELIMON IN THE CAVE: Who is the liar, if not the one who denies that Jesus is the Christ? That is the Antichrist, who denies both the Father and the Son. Whoever denies the Son does not have the Father either; whoever confesses the Son has the Father as well 7. And this is the promise which He has promised us, eternal life 8.
Father Filaret also came out of the hermit’s cave and approached Axinte.
AXINTE: The rock above the hermit might collapse and crush him.
FILARET (indignant): The rock might fall?!… On top of the hermit?!… Haven’t there been a few earthquakes round here? A rock broke away from Afton and flew over ‘Saint Anne’s’ Monastery, straight into the sea. But do you think it hit anyone?… (in an almost harsh tone) And for it to fall right on top of the hermit?!…
Music.
PANTELIMON FROM THE CAVE: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us and on your world. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us and on your world. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us and on your world.
AXINTE (speaking as if to himself): We are getting lost in a labyrinth populated by apocalyptic figures. In the twilight, I see the frozen faces of giants, Cerberuses, Gorgons, centaurs and other monsters… at the entrance to a tunnel, not dug by human hands. You might think you were stepping into the other world.
FILARET (to Axinte): Come on, it’s getting dark! And the Father is waiting for us with his ‘borșișor’.
Music.
Scene 8. A night in the wilderness
AXINTE, RED PANTELIMON, FILARET, PANTELIMON FROM THE CAVE
AXINTE (narrating): In the hermit’s shelter, by the light of the hearth fire, on that undisturbed July night, 1,500 metres above sea level, the borscht has a flavour that can only come from the vegetables sown by God, known only to hermits.
PANTELIMON THE RED: Well… Let’s have a drink. This morning I went down to the valley and brought back a flask of red wine.
AXINTE: It’s as if you knew, Father, that we were coming to see you.
PANTELIMON THE RED (laughs meaningfully): Heh heh!…
They pour the wine into their cups.
FILARET: Not for me. I’m not drinking; I’m tired. I’ll have a little lie-down on the bench.
PANTELIMON THE RED: But we old folk are as sturdy as oak trees!… Haha!… We’re still going strong!… Haha!…
The fire burns in the hearth. The sky is starry. In the cool of the summer night, the occasional howl of a coyote can be heard.
AXINTE: Don’t you miss them, Father?… Don’t you miss your kin…, the plains of Cotiugenii Mari, where you grew up?… Don’t you sometimes feel like going back?… Or couldn’t you walk on level ground anymore?
PANTELIMON THE RED (wryly): I’d walk on smooth ground myself. Hm… As for the plains… our little hill… what can I say?… (changing his tone) But what’s the dead man doing at a wedding?… In Cotiugeni?… (slightly harshly) But who are you leaving the Mother of God to?… For someone else to pray for you?! Are you going to pay them as if for mowing?… Enough! The dead man doesn’t come back from the grave! A true hermit shouldn’t even go down into the valley, let alone to Coștiugeni! (friendly) But let me pour you some more wine. You won’t find wine like this even at the Great Lavra.
AXINTE: I suppose food isn’t easy to come by round here?
PANTELIMON THE RED: It’s a bit of a struggle. But do you think we’re just sitting around? A man doesn’t just sit around, sir, not so easily! Look, take a look at this old carcass of mine! Can you believe it? He’s fighting on his own! You’d call it a carcass, give it food, but then it sees you’re not giving it any, so it gets thinner and thinner, all shrivelled up, but it holds on! It holds on all by itself until the food comes!… And once you give it some, it swells up again!
AXINTE: Yeah…
PANTELIMON THE RED: Down in the valley, it’s a feast. First an onion, then a cherry…
AXINTE: Kirașa.
PANTELIMON THE RED: Well, yes. It’s a place rich in cherries. Down in the valley. But here?!… We make little crosses, little baskets, little icons… We help each other out. We don’t grumble!…
AXINTE: Yes… At such a distance, you could die without anyone knowing.
PANTELIMON THE RED (resolutely): That far away, we don’t get by!… Just when you think you’re done for, that you’ve got to light a candle – the Mother of God comes to your aid! Look, Father Pantelimon, the one in the cave, he was on the verge of giving up the priesthood. Far away, all alone, in the cold… He was waiting for the end. When, lo and behold!… A Russian with a bag of pastries and a bottle of brandy. Old Pantelimon got absolutely plastered, even though he’d never touched a drop of brandy in his life!… Once he’d had his fill, off he went to my place for some water. And with the posmagi, the brandy, and the water, it turns out it didn’t work out at all!… But do you really think it was a Russian, that a Russian brought him posmagi and brandy? Well, it was the Mother of God after all!
The music crept in gently, a little earlier. It suggests something mysterious, heavenly.
AXINTE: But… hermits, those who live in solitude, they rarely make it to services, to church, do they?…
PANTELIMON THE RED: It’s harder without a church. But you pray in peace, undisturbed by anyone. For salvation…
AXINTE: How do you pray, Father, for salvation?
PANTELIMON THE RED: Solitary prayer is done in secret, according to the Lord’s word: ‘When you pray, go into your inner room, and having shut the door, pray to your Father who is in secret.’ The outer chamber, as seen from the outside, is this hut of straw, or your house; whilst the inner, spiritual chamber is the heart or the mind. And this inner, spiritual chamber is everywhere, together with the person. And so, wherever a person may be, they can shut their mind away and pray to God in secret, even whilst in the midst of people, even whilst talking to them.
AXINTE: Could I do that too, Father?
PANTELIMON THE RED: Why shouldn’t you? Inner prayer requires neither the mouth nor the printed word, but only a person’s deepening within themselves—a task you can perform anywhere. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner – the prayer for all times – you can say it anytime and anywhere. Whether in the street, in the garden, whilst weeding or mowing, whilst queuing to buy something, or on the way – whether travelling by train, by cart, or on foot. Do not let your mind wander. Pray ceaselessly!
AXINTE: Those who do manual labour… They can. But me, if I have to write something, or if I’m at school teaching a lesson to the pupils, then I can’t repeat the verse in my mind…
PANTELIMON THE RED: Whatever you do, begin with ‘Lord’. And when you say ‘Lord’, feel that He is beside you and within you. And then your work becomes prayer. ‘Lord, help me to…’ Why do we pray?… Because the Saviour told us: ‘Without me you can do nothing.’ With regard to deliverance from passions, and therefore with regard to salvation. And He Himself set us an example, praying often to the Father.
AXINTE: The Lord Jesus Christ would withdraw to the mountains, to desolate places, and pray.
PANTELIMON THE RED: And you too! You pray anywhere and anytime, but you should have a little corner at home where, before the icon, you can pray in the morning and in the evening, when you are at home. If you can’t find peace at home, go to church.
AXINTE: How long do you pray for, Father?
PANTELIMON THE RED: Do you see the rosary? Do you see this string hanging from the nail? We call it a string.
AXINTE: Yes. It looks like an ancient rosary.
PANTELIMON THE RED: Well, yes. Many generations of hermits have found salvation through this thread. This thread has a hundred knots. The church service lasts, let’s say, about seven hours a day. Now, you, hermit, do the maths. How many times, in seven hours, should I say, ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us’? You say it once: ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us’ – and you untie the knot on the thread. Say it a second time and change the knot again. Up to a hundred. Then it’s called having made one string. Then I ask you: how many strings do you make in seven hours?
AXINTE: That’s a tough one to work out. 100?
PANTELIMON THE RED: Well, if that were the case! There’d be no room left in Heaven! Let Pantelimon of the Cave tell you whether he manages more than 40 ‘strands’ from sunset to sunrise.
Music.
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
We hear the prayer coming from afar and drawing nearer, until we feel it close at hand, within us. Then, slowly, it recedes, and we hear Pantelimon of the Cave utter the following words.
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: Do not love the world, nor the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For everything in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—is not from the Father, but is of the world. And the world is passing away, and its lusts with it; but whoever does the will of God abides for ever. Little children, it is the last hour; and just as you have heard that the Antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have appeared: by this we know that it is the last hour9.
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us and on Your world. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us and on Your world. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us and on Your world.
We hear the prayer coming from afar and drawing nearer, until we feel it close at hand, within us. Then, slowly, it recedes and we hear Pantelimon the Red speaking of the prayer of the mind within the heart.
PANTELIMON THE RED: Prayer is a painstaking task, a task that requires thought. Think about it: there is prayer, there is the sign of the cross, and there is prostration. For you pray whilst sitting on a stool, or standing, but you also pray with reverence or by prostrating yourself, bowing your knees and head to the ground. You prostrate yourself whilst seated, not in a hurry, for you’re not out mowing, after all. The Master sees if it’s mown properly… Well, but what about the Mother of God?… Do you intend to deceive her? Right under her eyes, with trickery and deceit?!
AXINTE: I see…
PANTELIMON THE RED: You shut your mind away within the words of the prayer. You admit no thought, no image, no memory, no reflection, no fantasy!
AXINTE: Not even if it’s a divine vision?
PANTELIMON THE RED: Not even if it’s a divine vision! God is not offended, for it is not out of bad faith or a spirit of defiance that you do not accept the vision, but out of a concern not to err by accepting just anything. And pray calmly, without haste. You feel that the Lord is with you, within you. You may come face to face with the filth within you, of which you are not even aware. But you carry on praying; do not give up. Day after day. A quarter of an hour in the morning. A quarter of an hour in the evening. Then half an hour in the morning and in the evening. And so on. The Lord Jesus, in answer to our prayer, wages war against the adversary in our thoughts and delivers us from the oppression of our passions. Go to confession, receive Holy Communion. Often, as often as possible! And then peace comes. Your thoughts fall silent. Joy comes. Pray as best you can, and you’ll come to pray as you ought. One is young and more worthy, and finishes it in the blink of an eye, whilst another, slower and lazier—like me—takes an hour. But you can’t fool the Mother of God. Well, whoever’s the strongest is given the chance to come here. But not everyone is like Saint Athanasius, who used to pull the yoke like an ox—he had that sort of strength. But if you’re not a strong man, able to give of your body and your strength, how on earth are you going to stay here?!… Especially in winter, when the wind blows you down…, when the rain starts…
AXINTE: But how is it, Father, that there are only Moldovans round here, only Romanians? Apart from Father Averchie, you don’t see any Russians, you don’t see any Greeks…
PANTELIMON THE RED: How could a Greek possibly live here?!…
AXINTE: He can’t?
PANTELIMON THE RED: I’m not saying they can’t manage with their rosaries and fasting, but when it comes to the cold and the snow…
AXINTE: So he prefers it further down, closer to the sea.
PANTELIMON THE RED: Something like that.
AXINTE: But what about the Russian?
PANTELIMON THE RED: The Russian’s tough too. He can put up with hunger, a beating, or bedbugs, but he wants wide open spaces, as far as the eye can see. The Russian. Up here in the mountains, with the ravines and gullies, in the wind and rain, only our lot are any good!…
AXINTE (surprised): Our people from Bessarabia!…
PANTELIMON THE RED: Yes. Weaklings don’t last here.
AXINTE: It’s just that… well – how can I put it? – the stronger a man is, I reckon… the harder it is to be saved. Because the body…
PANTELIMON THE RED: Well then… Let me tell you, if you want to know it all, a monastic tale… Though perhaps it isn’t quite a tale. They say that one evening Scaraoțchi summoned all the devils, called them to account, as is their custom:
The music sends a chill down our spines.
PANTELIMON THE RED: Now tell me, Sărsăilă, what have you been up to today?
– I, O Emperor, have stirred up two brothers, until they came to blows. And now, one lies dead, and the other is in prison
.– Very well, Sărsăilă, but I expected more from you. And you, Michiduță?
– I, my lord, caused a quarrel between a woman and her husband. Then I found the woman a lover, so she poisoned her husband.”
(harshly) “All of you, nothing but trifles?… But what about you, Cornilică?
– I, master, I…
(nervously) – What, me, me?!!… –
I set up… a monk with a girl!
– Well done, lad!… That’s the spirit! Come on! Let your father give you a kiss!…
The strange music comes to an end.
AXINTE: Why was he so pleased, Scaraoțchi?
PANTELIMON THE RED: Because there is no greater deed in the eyes of the devil than the sin of a monk. You see: the Saviour has many followers, but the monks are his most chosen army. The monk prays for the whole world. That is why, for the infidel, there is no greater victory than the monk’s fall from the faith.
AXINTE: Now, Your Holiness, you are far from the world. If we look out to sea, a ship seems as small as… a fly.
PANTELIMON THE RED: You’d think that on the Holy Mountain, a monk’s life is a path to salvation. Not a whiff of a woman! Yet the devil is right here. And it’s worse than out in the world. That’s why you’ve got to watch out – I’m not joking!
AXINTE: But when you’re young…
PANTELIMON THE RED (harshly): Hold on tight! That’s how you’ve got to hold on, just as I’m holding on to the table right now. (roars) Hold on tight! (the plank cracks) Hold on tight, because this is no game! What?!… Are you playing the devil’s game?!… Because what does that wretch do, day and night?… Hold on tight!!!…
He rises from his chair and gazes at the starry sky.
AXINTE (slightly frightened): What… are you looking at, Father?
PANTELIMON THE RED: At the stars. It’s still early.
AXINTE: The story about Scaraoțchi—it certainly happened somewhere, once upon a time. But… how can I put it…? Here, around Your Holinesses… In a word, are there devils on the Holy Mountain?
PANTELIMON THE RED: Then what was I telling you about just now? Where is their lair? Where is their den, if not here?… It’s just that, let me tell you, the devil doesn’t stand a chance here, if you’re a human being. It’s enough, as soon as you spot him showing his little horns over there, from behind the rock, to shout ‘Lord Jesus’, and that filthy creature will flee as fast as the earth can carry him.
AXINTE: It runs away?
PANTELIMON THE RED: But you’ve got to be human! Human!… Because if you act like some people, then that unclean one will really mess you up. And if he’s messed you up even just a little, that’s it! You’re his!
AXINTE: I reckon some people must be going mad because of him!
PANTELIMON THE RED: But who do you think is going mad?! Only those, sir, who succumb to pride go mad. Those who chase after greatness. That’s who goes mad. Because he, the devil, is right here. That’s all he needs. Not long ago there was a young man here. Young, slight of build. One of the educated sort—that rascal confuses those types the most. He reads, he reads, he fasts, he keeps quiet… But you see, even in this work of ours, there’s a method to it! You won’t get it done in a rush. Like an ox—if it jerks at the yoke, it falls right onto the furrow, tongue hanging out. Day in, day out, the lad began to take great pride in the fact that he only spoke to simpletons, only to the archimandrite. Worse still, he now speaks only to the Mother of God and the Holy Angels! Then he wants to fly, because that’s what they do—fly (he sighs). A great temptation. Now, amongst all these madmen, there are still a few sensible people… A few of them set about tying him up. But do you think he’ll give in? Father Averchie comes over and signals to us: ‘Tie him up,’ he says, ‘otherwise…’
AXINTE: How are we supposed to soften him up?
PANTELIMON THE RED: A man’s a man. If you bash his head against the rock, once, twice… he’ll soften up… But what’s the point? Why do I say you should hold on to him?
AXINTE: What happened to the young man?
PANTELIMON THE RED: What were you going to do to him? For God’s sake, whatever’s got into him, he won’t let go. They took him, bound, to the Lavra. The monks read to him, put him on a fast – to no avail. Peace!
AXINTE: Didn’t they let him go?
PANTELIMON THE RED: Enough! He let himself be caught; he let pride get the better of him! Oh dear, oh dear… Don’t give the devil any ground! Let no thought of fornication enter your mind! No thought of pride or vain glory! No greed, no love of money or wealth, no envy, no anger, no sloth! Nothing. (rises from the table) Well, well… We’ve gone on a bit too long! It’s late. Come on. Let’s pray.
Music.
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world. By this you shall know the Spirit of God: every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God. And every spirit that does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not from God; and this is the spirit of the Antichrist, of whom you have heard that he is coming, and now he is already in the world—10.
The music swells, subsides, and fades into the background.
AXINTE (speaking as if to himself): In the unbroken silence of the Holy Mountain, one can barely make out the secret whispers of the night… Behind a rock, something can be seen… The monster’s bristling hair sways… Could it be a bush?… Or perhaps…?! Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
The verse of the prayer is repeated and gradually fades away. The music swells and then subsides.
AXINTE (speaking as if to himself): The sun’s rays have reached the heights of Athos. Father Pantelimon the Red is still at prayer, at his post, with the thread in his hand.
Scene 9. The Departure
AXINTE, RED PANTELIMON, FILARET, PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE, TEODOSIE
AXINTE: Father Filaret, I have no words to thank you.
FILARET: May the Lord be with you.
AXINTE (speaking as if to himself): The steamer set off late. It’s past midnight now, as we sail round the southern tip of Athos. I can see the lights from a few hermitages. Some lower down, others high up. One – right up amongst the stars. Could that be Father Pantelimon the Red’s hut? I wonder what my friend is up to?
PANTELIMON THE RED: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
AXINTE: How on earth does he manage sitting there all alone in winter, in the freezing cold and the blizzard? But what about the other Pantelimon, Pantelimon of the Cave?!…
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
AXINTE: Could it be that these two hermits are the only Romanians today for whom life isn’t ‘going their way’…?!
FILARET: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
AXINTE: Where might Father Filaret, my travelling companion, be now? Poor young man! A few months later, I learnt that one day he decided to go for a swim in the sea. He went down to the water’s edge. Seeing that he was not returning, a few monks set out to look for him. They found him in the water, close to the shore; half-dressed, but with his head smashed in. Did he fall by accident, striking a rock?… Was he the victim of some senseless act of revenge?… An honest soul, a stranger to this world, took the secret with him, entrusting his final cry of pain or liberation to the waves and the boundless expanse. What will he have said upon meeting the Saviour?…
FILARET: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Filaret’s prayer remains slightly in the background.
AXINTE: At night, when the most terrible sins are committed in the cover of darkness, the monks pray for every person, for the whole world.
TEODOSIE (in memory of Axinte – a faint echo): Every time you say ‘Lord, forgive me’, it is the Holy Spirit who dwells within you.
AXINTE: He who has encountered the Lord Christ needs nothing more of this world.
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE (with a faint echo, in memory of Axinte): Not even the sun… nor relatives… nothing.
AXINTE: The monk has no other kingdom apart from the Kingdom of Heaven, the one within us. A person deified by God unseenly radiates the light of Love everywhere.
AXINTE: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
The verse of Axinte’s prayer fades, remaining slightly in the background.
AXINTE: Remember Axinte too, children of the Mother of God! Gather us all unto You, Righteous and Holy Father!
From the cave, we hear Pantelimon of the Cave.
PANTELIMON OF THE CAVE: See what kind of love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called children of God. This is why the world does not recognise us, for it has not recognised Him. Beloved, we are now children of God, and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be. But we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is11.