The Prayer of the Holy Mountain

Archimandrite Aimilianos of Simonopetra,
The Church at Prayer- The Mystical Liturgy of the Heart,
ed. Indiktos Athens 2005, p. 45- 63

Prayer is the primary need of every soul. It is a tree of life which nourishes us, and renders us incorruptible, because it enables us to partake in the life of the incorruptible God. Just as there can be no human life without a soul, there can be no life in Christ apart from prayer. Noetic prayer is the unceasing activity of the angelic orders: it is the bread, the life, and the language of those non-material beings. It is an expression of their love for God. Monks, by imitating such a life in their flesh, and by means of their ascetic struggles, inhabit the realm of angels, and set ablaze their desire for the divine by unceasing prayer of the heart.

And this is why, throughout history, we see many monks who, for hours and even days, forget to eat, and indeed for­get their very selves, being wholly devoted to noetic contemplation of the Lord. Many times men have knocked on their doors, and the birds have signaled the rising of the sun, but the saints heard nothing, because their mind was caught up in exalted communion with God. Prayer for them is the most spiritual of activities, offered to the Father and Creator of the world; it is the warming of their heart, a rising up to heavenly things. Prayer is the monk’s embrace of, and tender greeting to, the Bridegroom and savior of our souls.

The Church lives by prayer. It lives by the prayers of its children. There are, of course, many kinds of prayer. But if we want to know what is the supreme form of prayer, which unfailingly maintains its spiritual character “at all times and at every hour”, then we must look to the monks, those “children of the church who bear the form of light”. As St. Isaac the Syrian tells us, monasticism is the “boast of the Church”, because it is an incarnate and living expression of the Gospel (1). Monasticism is the Church’s sacred treasury, in which her teachings are kept intact, her devotion true, the spirit of her martyrs whole, her spiritual tradition unadulter­ated, her mission active and effective, and the sweet delight of her song constant. By means of this song she beckons the beloved Christ, and captures the dove of purest light, the Holy Spirit, “who proceeds from the Father” (cf. Jn 15.26).

In order to learn how the Church maintains her prayer, her divine voice, within monasticism, there is no need to travel very far, either to the East or to the West. Right here, in our own neighborhood, we have the Holy Mountain, the sacred, spirit-bearing vessel of Orthodox tradition; the life-raft thrown to us by God, upon which many are constantly saved from the stormy sea of sin, and carried to the kingdom of God.

And who does not know, who has not heard, of the Prayer of the Holy Mountain? It consists of a short phrase, a small number of words. By means of its initial cry “Lord”, we glo­rify God in his glorious majesty, for he is the king of Israel, the creator of “all things visible and invisible”, before whom the seraphim and the cherubim tremble.

By the most sweet invocation and vocalization of the name “Jesus”, we bear witness to the fact that Christ, our savior, is present, and in gratitude we thank him for granting us eter­nal life. With the third word, “Christ”, we speak theologically, confessing Christ as the Son of God and God. It was not a mere man who saved us, neither was it an angel, but Jesus Christ, the true God (cf. Heb 1-2).

Through the inward petition, “have mercy on me”, we fall down and implore God to be merciful, to answer our pleas for salvation, and fulfill the desires and needs of our hearts.

And that one little word: “me"! What a breadth of meaning it contains! It designates not only myself, but all those who have been naturalized into the state of Christ, into the Holy Church; all those, that is, who are members of his body (cf. Eph 5.25).

Finally, and so that our prayer will be complete, we end with the words, “the sinner”, thereby confessing our sinful­ness - for we are all sinners - as did the saints, who through such confession became sons of light and sons of the day.

From this we realize that prayer consists of praise, thanks­giving, theology, petition, and confession.

What can we say, my beloved, concerning the Prayer of the Heart, when nowadays, thank God, it is spoken of every­where, and innumerable books about it are published? Now even small children know it and say it; and young and old alike are saved by it. There are some, however, who have been de­ceived by false religions and pseudo-prophets, and promote their own supposed methods of prayer, which are in fact car­nal, false, and demonic. We are therefore obliged to uncover the true riches of our treasure, which is the prayer of the mind, the recollection and invocation of the Divine Name.

Through prayer, the Church through the ages speaks to God and inspires her children, making them like God. The Prayer of the Heart, in particular, is something which fills all of creation, including the vastness of the human heart.

Permit me, before I continue, to tell you about a certain monk I once knew. Just as all of us have moments of diffi­culty, he too was passing through a very critical period of his life: difficult days! The devil had cast fire into his brain, and the opposing forces wanted to strip him of his monastic dig­nity and make him a pseudo-seeker of truth. His soul roared like breaking waves, and he sought deliverance from his dis­tress. From time to time he remembered the prayer of the mind, but it resounded only weakly within him, for he did­n’t believe in it. His immediate surroundings were of no help whatsoever. Everything was negative. How wretched man becomes when he is beset by problems! And who among us has not known such terrible days, such dark nights, and ag­onizing trials?

Our monk didn’t know what to do. Walks did nothing for him. The night stifled him. And one night, gasping for air, he threw open the window of his cell in order to take a deep breath. It was dark - about three in the morning. In his great weari­ness, he was about to close the window, hoping to get at least a few moments of rest. At that very moment, however, it was as if everything around him - even the darkness outside - had become light! He looked to see where such light might be com­ing from, but it was coming from nowhere. The darkness, which has no existence of its own, had become light, and even his heart was shining with it. And when he turned around, he saw that his cell had also become light! He examined the lamp to see if this light was coming from there, but that single oil lamp could not become light itself, neither could it make all things light!

Although he did not previously have light in his heart, he did have a certain hope. Overcome with surprise and moved by this hope, but without being fully aware of what he was do­ing, he went out into the black courtyard of the monastery, which had often seemed to him like hell. He went out into the silence, into the night. Everything was clear as day. Nothing was hidden in the darkness. Everything was in the light: the wooden beams and the windows, the church, the ground he walked on, the sky, the spring of water which flowed contin­uously, the crickets, the fireflies, the birds of the night - every­thing was visible, everything! And the stars came down and the sky lowered itself, and it seemed to him that everything - earth and heaven - had become a heaven! And everything to­gether was chanting the Prayer, everything was saying the Prayer. And his heart strangely opened and began to dance; it began to beat and to take part involuntarily in the same prayer, and his feet barely touched the ground.

He did not know how he opened the door and entered the church, or when he had vested; he did not know when some other monk, and old man, had come along, or when the Liturgy began, or when the other monks arrived. What exactly hap­pened he didn’t know. Gone was the ordinary connection of things, and he knew only that he was standing before the altar, before the invisibly present God, celebrating the Liturgy. And striking, as it were, the keys of both his heart and the altar, his voice resounded above, to the altar beyond the heavens. The Liturgy continued, the church was lit by lamps in a most mys­tical way. The Gospel was read. The light was no longer all around him, but had built its nest within his heart. The Liturgy ended, but the song begun by his heart was endless. In his ecstasy, he saw that heaven and earth sing this prayer without ceasing, and that the monk truly lives only when he is animated by it. For this to happen, he needs only to cease living for himself.

The Psalmist is right in saying that the Name of God gives us life (cf. Ps 142.11). And how beautifully St. Gregory of Sinai puts it when he says that prayer is like a fire of gladness, a fra­grant light, the message of the Apostles, the good news of God, the assurance of the heart, the knowledge of God, exultation in Jesus, the joy of the soul, the mercy of God, a ray from the spiritual sun, and the grace of God. Indeed: “Prayer is God, working all things in everything” (2).

Yes. It is true. Through prayer, the Church through the ages speaks to God and inspires her children, making them like God. The echo of prayer fills all creation, and its action works effectively for the renewal of the world.

What, then, are we to say about this wonderful gift of di­vine grace, which has been given to us? About this prayer which is so greatly honored on the Holy Mountain? Let us say a few words about its meaning, and cast a glance at its history. Let us also consider its spiritual prerequisites, along with a number of social obligations, which are indispensable for the life of prayer.

***

In the Old Testament, God requires the people of Israel to “sanctify his Name”. In Isaiah, for example, it says that “they will sanctify my name” (Isa 29.23). Eight hundred years be­fore Christ, God said through this prophet: “They will render glory to me, and confess me as the only holy one, calling upon my awesome Name, worthy of supreme praise”. This “calling upon the awesome Name” is prayer. It is the blessing, glori­fication, and worship of God.

Elsewhere, the Old Testament says that “in his Name we glory” ( Ecc 50.20), to it we “give thanks” ( Ecc 51.1), in it is “our deliverance” ( Ecc 51.3), through it “we are saved” (J13.5), and in it is the “glory of our strength” (Ps 88.17), because wher­ever the Name of the Lord is uttered, there the Lord is present.

In the New Testament, the Lord teaches us that we should make our requests to God in his Name, the name of Christ (In 15.16). The Apostle Paul, moreover, says that God has given the Son a Name which is “above all other names”, so that in his Name we should pray to and worship God (cf. Phil 2.9-11). And he urges that our prayer should be “unceasing” (1 Thess 5.17).

The Apostolic Father, Hermas, desiring that the Name of Jesus be perpetually in our mind and heart, says that we should be “bound” with the Name of Christ, as if we have put on a garment that we will never remove’ (3) .

St. Basil the Great knew of and spoke about the prayer of the heart, in the same words that we use for it today, and he says that it was the universal prayer of the Church. And St. John Chrysostom directs us to “cry aloud from morning till evening: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon us” (4) .

Let us recall some of the ascetic fathers who stress nothing so much as prayer. We all know that triad of saints, John Cli- macus, equal to the angels; Isaac the Syrian, who enraptures you; and Symeon the New Theologian, clothed in the Spirit. They successfully teach the art of prayer to those living in the desert, to those living in monasteries, and to those living in the world. Let us also recall those other eagles, St. Neilos who soared on high; St. Barsanouphios and John, gifted with dis­cernment; and the wonderful St. Diadochos of Photike.

And what should we say concerning Gregory of Sinai, who in the fourteenth century brought the Prayer from Egypt, brought it to life, and cultivated it on the Holy Mountain? It goes with­out saying that the Jesus Prayer was practiced on the Holy Moun­tain before his arrival. Indeed, devotees of the Prayer were never absent from the Mountain, beginning with the very first her­mits, which is why Hesychasm was acknowledged as the high­est path of the spiritual life. But Gregory tirelessly traveled across heaven and earth, on the Mountain and elsewhere, to dissem­inate it, and make it the daily practice of all the monks. And who has not heard of the famous Maximos Kafsokalyvites? Or of the great Gregory Palamas, who magnificently wove together the doctrinal and practical aspects of the Orthodox teaching on prayer? And what of St. Kallistos, and the Patriarchs Isidore and Philotheos, and so many others, such as Theoleptos of Philadel­phia, Kallistos and Ignatius Xanthopoulos, all of whom both in theory and practice lived, applied the experience of, and wrote about, prayer? And what could we possibly single out from everything written about prayer by that new mystagogue of prayer and the patristic mind, St. Nikodemos of the Holy Moun­tain? His Handbook of Spiritual Counsel and the Philokalia are now classic guides known throughout the entire world.

Let us now turn our attention to the place of prayer in a mona­stery, in order to see how it relates to the life of the monk, and how it might relate to us. We know that a monastery is an un­ceasing gathering ( synaxis) of both the part icular brotherhood and of the entire, universal Church. There would be no rea­son for monasteries to exist if they were not a perpetual gath­ering of the Church, realizing the presence of Christ in a par­ticular time and place. It follows, then, that the center of monastic life is the daily cycle of worship, and especially the Divine Liturgy. It is in the Liturgy that the monk becomes fa­miliar with, and makes his own the Church’s spirit of mar­tyrdom, asceticism, and worship. The liturgical texts and ser­vices nourish him, and they become his personal experiences.

The monks assemble in the church, knowing that they are not alone, but in the company of all the saints and angels, glo­rifying God, and honoring the saint of the day. The Holy Eu­charist, along with the entire liturgical gathering, provides them with a profound sense that God is present, and that they partake of him sacramentally, by means of his uncreated en­ergies. The invisibility of God, moreover, far from being a hin­drance to their devotion, is in direct proportion to the palpa­ble nature of their mystical communion and spiritual delight.

This communion with God in worship, which is of pri­mary importance for the monk, continues in the cell and every­where else by means of the Prayer of the Heart, which is not simply a form of request or petition. If it were only this, there would be no need for us to spend all day addressing ourselves to God, since God hears even our entrails when they move. The Prayer of the Heart is the food of Christ, the Lamb of God, who is present in the recollection and invocation of his divine, terrifying, and sweetest Name. It is also the drink of Christ, the intoxicating new wine of grace, which raises man to the heights. We partake of the whole Christ, and we are found to reflect the attributes of God, being made god-like by God, en­lightened and mystically enlivened.

The monk, through his noetic “liturgy”, as the holy Fathers call it, “truly and continually partakes of spiritual manna” (5). The Jesus Prayer is the fulfillment, here and now, of that which was symbolized and foreshadowed by God’s distribution of life-giv­ing bread to the Israelites. They called that bread “manna”, which means “What is it?” for, as scripture says, “they did not know what it was” (Ex 16.14-15, 31). And it received an unintelligible name, so that they would understand that the bread which God sent down from heaven was symbolic. And we too can say. “What great thing is this prayer, this recollection of Jesus? It is mystical communion with Christ, offered at every moment, as when the flakes of manna fell down from heaven, and the people ate it, and were glad”. Our manna, then, is the Jesus Prayer, our food and our drink, satisfying us with nourishment from heaven.

It follows that a basic condition for the Prayer of the Heart is the belief that it is not merely a prayer, but rather true com­munion with God. It is the basis for our divinization through the divine energies of the unapproachable God, who through them descends and unites himself to sinners. And when we have God, we have the Father and the Son together with the Holy Spirit. The incarnate Word himself, the king of the heavens, who holds the universe on the tip of his finger, consents to be held by us! And he enters into our midst, dwelling and moving and walking about within us. Just as when the disciples caught a multitude of fish on the Sea of Tiberias, and John said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” ( Jn 21.7), we too, when we cast forth the nets of prayer, can repeat those same words with complete con­viction - “It is the Lord!” - because the Church assures us that it is he. Here he is! Present truly is God himself!

But in order for the believer to be filled with light, and to be illumined by the presence of the Lord, his way of life must be pleasing to God. Since he wants God, he must live in a godly manner. He needs to flee from all human wretchedness and self-pity, empower himself with divine strength, learn self- control and restraint, and become a vessel capable of con­taining the grace of God. Moreover, he must want to be cleansed from every sin, being assured by the word of truth that this is something attainable. Through the cooperation of his free will with divine grace, he can be brought to a state of impassibil­ity, and become increasingly like God.

***

Now, if we wish to devote ourselves to the Jesus Prayer, we must also recognize that we have a problem. We are impris­oned within the confines of our worries and concerns. We are always in a hurry. We get tired. We become disillusioned. We live with stress, we are troubled by disturbing thoughts, by our passions, by inner storms. In order to sleep, we need to be on the point of exhaustion; and in order to be happy, we have to listen to music, or find some other amusement. This is no life at all! It tires us out, and doesn’t allow us to pray as much and in the way that we want.

This is why the Fathers assure us that the words of God “refresh and strengthen the soul, as wine strengthens the body” (6) . Know that the word of God is to be found both in Scripture and in the Holy Fathers. We must diligently study both; and among the latter, the ascetic Fathers particularly. We must likewise always be attentive to our work, not squan­dering our strength needlessly, but expending it responsibly on the duties which are before us. In this way our life will be­come a daily spiritual exercise, and, coupled with spiritual study, will smooth the ground of the soul, rendering it capa­ble of rising upwards.

In order to pray, you need to cultivate one important qual­ity. Just as we look after the health of our body, so too should we attend to the health of the soul. It is necessary that we should be joyful. When we become accustomed to pray, the joy of Christ is granted to us, along with much else besides. If you’re sad when you’re praying, if you’re depressed, then something inside you isn’t right. You should look to it, give it your attention, because a person’s character plays an important role in prayer.

Listen to what fine things were said about St. Savvas of Vatopedi, who underwent the greatest sufferings: “He was most joyful in conversation, and in appearance exceedingly gentle and charming” (7) . In his dealings with others, he always had a bright smile, the sweetest face, and the whole of him was filled with grace. How much more so in his dealings with God, when, during prayer, he became like a bright sun!

Another ascetic Father, St. Neilos, tells us that “prayer is a matter of joy and thanksgiving” (8) . Do you want to know if your prayer is true? Take note of this: does exultation spring from your heart, does it move you to thanksgiving? For “when you are at prayer, and it produces a joy beyond all else, then you have truly found prayer” (9) .

Prayer, then, because it is communion with God, brings joy. Of course, we need to struggle against sin, and against our pas­sions. But this should not discourage us, since we have surren­dered our life to Jesus Christ. However, struggle is necessary if our life is to be blessed. If we wish to succeed at prayer, we should not harbor any bitterness against anyone, we should not get mixed up in another person’s life, create stress for them, or hurt anyone’s feelings or upset them. Neither should we be upset by anyone else. All our social interactions should be natural and simple. We should feel that all people are one and the same, considering ourselves to be “one self with all” (10) , without, of course, denying our beliefs or departing from our proper con­duct. Then prayer is easy. It is enough for us to let God work in us, just as the farmer sows the seed and waits for the gentle rain.

We will therefore continue to struggle. We will call to mind the Name of Jesus, some with the lips, others with the mind, still others with the mind in the heart, and others as divine grace grants them when it visits them, when their spirit flashes like lightning, and, crying out, they encounter God. If we do all these things, God will drop the dew of Hermon into our soul and will make us joyful and true.

It is worth devoting much time, indeed as much time as we can, to putting into practice the patristic saying: “compel yourself to pray much” (11) , leaving everything else to the Lord. And if we can say only one prayer, even this has value. More­over, St. Isaac the Syrian says, “consider every prayer which you utter in the night to be of greater worth than all the ac­tivity of the day ” (12) . And thus our one, small prayer is even more precious when it is offered during the night.

Leave everything to God. Get on with your work and let your mind be on prayer! And choose a good guide, who can lead you by the hand to Christ. We must, however, stress that with respect to the spiritual life, all things are done for us by the grace of God, and thus we should be at peace.

The Fathers tell us that the invocation of the Name of Jesus, the practice of the prayer of the heart, is like a flask of myrrh. You open it, you pour some out, and the place is filled with fra­grance. When you cry out: “Lord Jesus Christ”, the fragrance of the Holy Spirit is given off, and you receive a “pledge of the divine Spirit”. This is because the “Holy Spirit, suffering to­gether with us, descends, and is moved to the desire for spiri­tual prayer” (13) . Moreover, the Spirit prays instead of us, if we are able forget about ourselves. Then he takes on our failings, our impurities, and the whole poverty of our existence. When we pray, we become temples of God, and priestly ministers of a great mystery. In the beautiful words of one Church Father, “take a censer and offer incense, because Christ is here in your heart, from which the words ‘Lord Jesus Christ’ rise like the sun”. Elsewhere he says that “when we hear the sound of the censer, let us remember that we are a temple, and let us feel in our minds that we are offering incense to Christ, who is within us, and thus let us venerate the tabernacle of the Holy Spirit” (14) .

Just think: within us is the kingdom of God, his dwelling place, where we “confine that which has no body within a body”, so that the “worship of heavenly things” takes place within our hearts (15) . We acquire God, and God is inseparably bound up with all the saints, for they, like us, have all been nourished on the same milk, having been fed at the breast of the Holy Spirit. Thus the saints are our brothers and friends. They wait for us, love us, and secure our blessedness, as the Prophet Isaiah says: “Blessed is he who has relatives and friends in Jerusalem” (Isa 31.9). We acquire as our friends and relatives all the saints of Christ, who live above, in the heavenly Jerusalem.

Do you remember the words of Christ? “There are some standing here, who will not taste death until they see the king­dom of God come with power” (Mk 9.1). This is applicable to us, too. We live, that is, we experience “in power”, the king­dom of God, when we say the Prayer of Jesus. And when we do, the Spirit makes us worthy to know God. And the saints attain to Christ, about whom some think that no one sees, and no one knows. And yet!... through prayer we understand that which is beyond understanding, namely, the “incom­prehensible and transcendently radiant content of our God” (16) , because the grace of the Spirit wells up from every fount, ini­tiating us into the unspeakable beauty of God.

And if we don’t reach as far as that, the Prayer of the Heart will nevertheless bring us abundant blessings, consolation, pleasure, forgiveness, and salvation, to each as it is best for him. This is what God gives.

And if we have not enjoyed such fruits, it does not mean that others have not tasted of them. The saints many times be­held the glimmerings of the Godhead, for God revealed him­self to them as light! God is hidden. No one sees him. This is why he is said to be within a “thick cloud”, or “shrouded in darkness” (cf. Ex 19.9). God is light, but to us he is invisible. Even so, to the extent that God has revealed himself, many saints have seen God, who filled them with his own, holy light.

This is clear from the Life of St. Savvas, who we mentioned a moment ago. He was filled with divine longing. And while he sat in silence, his heart seeking God, suddenly God ap­peared to him, and said “I am here!” (17) Look at me, it is I! How grand and godlike! And how did God appear to him? In what manner? In what form? How? As “light flowing from heaven in abundance” (18) . Light, we are told, enveloped everything. It entered into him, first dominating his mind, afterwards his senses, and then covered all the members of his body.

After that, the saint was so radiant, so fragrant, that peo­ple flocked in the thousands to see him, to imbibe the fra­grance, to partake of it, and they painted his image on planks - on “planks and boards”, it says - while he was still alive. They treated him and honored him as a saint, because they saw the sanctity portrayed on his face (19) .

And the Life goes on: “Take care, because these are the mys­teries of the Lord. The Godhead appears in all its beauty, in all its glory, in all its unspeakable delight, and its light trans­forms the man upon whom it is poured forth” (20) . Such a man can see God, and all those things beyond the heavens which eye has not seen.

After this, the saint, “wounded by the sweet arrow of the Lord” (21) , speaks to the light:

“Where do you dwell, and upon whom do you look? Show me your glory, so that I may know you (Ex 33.13). I want to see you as you are”. And then he heard a voice:

“But you have been completely divinized by partaking in due measure of the Godhead (22) . There is no need for me to tell you where I dwell -1 who am God - for you yourself have be­come God, receiving my light from me”.

How many times, my dear friends, have the saints seen this light, even if we have never seen it ourselves? But it is enough that you say the Prayer, and abide with Christ. These are the fruits of the Prayer of the Holy Mountain.

***

Finally, let us see how prayer is lived and experienced on the Holy Mountain.

There is an ascetic on the Holy Mountain - I won’t give you his name; he is still living - who is given to saying: “Ach! Twenty-four hours a day aren’t enough for me to pray!” Do you sense what sort of prayer this man practices? Do you re­alize how far above the earth he is? Can you imagine what sweetness he feels as he turns his eyes and his heart increas­ingly toward God?

Yes, they pray on the Holy Mountain, in the monasteries and outside the monasteries. Great figures have emerged in recent years, such as Daniel Katounakiotes (†l929); Kallinikos the Hesychast (†l930), and so many others. One of our own monks, blessed Old Arsenios, who fell asleep a few years ago, didn’t even want to sleep, but rigged himself up by a rope, and leaned on a piece of wood, in order to pray without ceasing.

Many monks have done this. When he prayed and made pros­trations, he would bang his head on the floor. He said: “Pm a sinner and God won’t hear my prayer, but at least let him hear the banging of my head. My sin is so great that prayer doesn’t dare come out of my mouth!” And yet he had such grace! He prayed constantly. You should have seen his face. And if you could have seen how he fell asleep, you would have said, “truly, the death of a righteous man is blessed”.

More recently there was another ascetic. He often needed hours to celebrate the liturgy, because he was visited by the saints, who celebrated with him. Sometimes he took so long that he sent his disciples away, so that he could be alone, and they wouldn’t be startled. And when his ecstasy ended, he would open the door and say, “let’s resume the Liturgy”.

Another monk was praying at night, during the office, when a remarkable thing happened. His mind left his body and flew out over the sea, it went to the mountains and the valleys, looked at the trees, the flowers, the fish of the sea, and saw and heard that everything in creation glorifies God. From that day forward he was unable to stand at all, and from his darting eyes, tears never ceased to flow. He saw, and said, that creation, even though it lacks a soul, pours out tearful praises to God, “whereas I, who have a soul, am lost in sin”.

Hesychasts and ascetics, in unbroken succession, have never been absent from the Holy Mountain, down to the present day and hour. Let us call to mind St. Silouan (†1938), whose entire life was a constantly flourishing prayer. More recently, Elder Joseph Spelaiotes († Ί 959) devoted his life to prayer, which he absorbed deeply. He made it his strength, and ex­perienced it as the sweetness of paradise. He is survived by many spiritual children and grandchildren.

From the Holy Mountain, the Prayer of Jesus has been communicated to the world. It was from here that St. Pai- sius Velitchkovski (†1794) gave the Prayer to the Slavs. Fa­ther Sophronios, also an Athonite, has done the same thing in Europe.

Athos also influenced St. Athanasios of Meteora, as well as St. Dionysios of Olympus, and they inspired many others, who cannot be numbered. Symeon Monochiton, Iakovos the Elder, St. Theonas, the Kollyvades ... the Prayer has hastened into the entire world. And so there are Holy Mountains in Russia! And in Serbia there are Holy Mountains! Wherever you go. In Europe there are now monasteries populated by Athonites, and they do nothing else but disseminate the Jesus Prayer, as much as they are able.

Epilogue

What would our life be like, dear friends, without the Prayer of Jesus? And what would the world be without it? A heart which does not have this prayer seems to me to be like a plas­tic bag - now you put something into it, but it will soon tear and you’ll throw it away. That which gives meaning to our life, to our existence, is prayer, because it is prayer which gives us God. They say that life will come to an end when men cease to pray. But is it possible for them ever to stop praying? No. Because there will always be those who love the Lord. And as long as such souls exist, the world will not be lost. Unceasing prayer is the hidden life of the world. And thus the world will not perish, but will be renewed, and just as it now “groans in travail” because of the corruption of na­ture (cf. Rom 8.22), so too, when the new earth and the new heaven appear (2 Pet 3.13), it will rejoice in the eternal joy and glory of the human race, made radiant in the outpour­ing of divine light.

Let us pray. Let us mystically keep our censers burning, because, as we said, when we keep the Name of Jesus on our lips or in our heart, we become tabernacles of God, we be­come Godbearers.

Solomon says somewhere that God chose for his dwelling place the sun, the created light - but God, who is uncreated light - left it! It was not possible even for a vast and dazzling star to be the dwelling place of the great God. And so God left the sun, and made the “dark cloud” his dwelling place, cloth­ing himself in darkness and invisibility. Now, if we cannot look at the sun, how would we look at Christ, full of light, the sun of life, who transcends all creation? And so he hides him­self in invisibility, so that we can be free, and believe, and choose God. When Solomon set about building his temple, he gathered together materials of gold, silver, emeralds, and whatever else was most precious, expending more wealth than any one since in order to make a house for God. When he was finished, however, he said that he had prepared another house for God “to dwell in anew” (1 Kg 8.53 [LXX]). That new house is the Church.

My dear friends, we too have a house for the Lord to dwell in: our heart. Do you remember what the Lord said when he ascended into heaven? “I will be with you always” (Mt 28.20). And this is why, during the last living act of the Liturgy, the elevation of the sacred Chalice, the priest says: “Forever, now and always, and unto the ages of ages”. What does that mean? It is as if Christ is saying: I am going away. I am entering into my dark cloud, I am returning to my invisibility, and you will lose sight of me. But remember that I am always before you,

I am always within you. I will remain here unseen, unobserved, in the innermost parts of the sanctuary, to be eaten by the priest, so that you can eat me too, whenever you want.

And so, my dear brothers, make ready your spiritual censers, and procure fragrances for your souls, because God has cho­sen neither the sun, nor the temple of Solomon, which he per­mitted to be destroyed. Why? Because he wanted his house to be, through prayer, the heart of each of us.

Νotes

(1) Ascetical Homily 10 (ed. Nikephoros Theotokis [Athens, n.d.], p. 43; cf. The Ascetical Homilies of Saint Isaac the Syrian [Boston, Mass., 1984], p. 77).

(3) The Shepherd of Hermas , Parable 9.16 (BEPES, vol. 3 [Athens, 1955], p. 96, lines 10- 11).

(4) Letter to the Monks (PG 60.752). Traditionally ascribed to Chrysostom, this letter may date to a slightly later period.

(5) Kallistos Kataphygiotes, On Divine Union and the Contemplative Life ( PG 147, 913C).

(6) Cf. Ephrem the Syrian, cited in Paul the Monk, Evergetinos , vol. 2 (Athens, 1978), qu. 11.6, p. 121; and John of Damascus, Sacra Parallela (PG 96, 217B ).

(7) Philotheos Kokkinos, Life of St. Savvas the Younger 28 (ed. Demetrios Tsamis, The Hagiographical Works of Philotheos Kokkinos of Constantinople [Thessaloniki: Center for Byzantine Studies, 1985], p. 214, lines 12-13).

(8) On Prayer 15 (PG 79, 1169D; cf. Philokalia , vol. 1 [London: Faber & Faber, 1979], p. 58).

(9) Ibid.. 153 (PG 79.1200BC; cf. Philokalia , p. 71).

(10) Ibid., 125 (PG 79,1193C; cf. Philokalia , p. 69).

(11) Abba Isaiah, Discourse 4.1 (ed. Augustinos Iordanites [Jerusalem 1911], p. 15).

(12) Ascetical Homily 64 (ed. Theotokis, p. 147; cf. The Ascetical Homilies of Isaac the Syrian, p. 308).

(13) St. Neilos the Ascetic, On Prayer 63 (PG 79.1180C; cf. Philokalia , p. 63).

(14) St. Gregory of Nyssa, On the Life of Moses (ed. Herbert Musurillo, GNO VII.1 [Leiden: Brill, 1964], p. 94, lines 17-19; cf. Abraham J. Malherbe, trans., Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Moses [New York, 1978], 100-101).

(15) Ibid.

(16) St. Dionysios the Areopagite, On the Divine Names 1.8 (PG 3.597A).

(17) Life of St. Savvas 26 (ed. Tsamis, p. 210, line 6).

(18) Ibid., line 10.

(19) Ibid., 36 (p. 230, line 15), and 28 (p. 214, line 4).

(20) Ibid., 34 (p. 225, line 1).

(21) Ibid., 37 (p. 231, line 13).

( 22) St. Maximos the Confessor, On Theology and the Incarnate Dispensation of the Son of God 2.88 (PG 90,1168AB; cf. Philokalia , vol. 2 [London: Faber & Faber, 1981], p. 160).