I returned to Nea Skiti today, Monday the 20th, under the gracious protection of Vasile and his aging black pick up truck. (I was intending to make the arduous trip by foot, as any pious pilgrim would do, but alas that ideal (aka, idol) was crushed—but that’s a story for another time. Too many stories!)
As I approached the hut’s gate ...
I was surprised to hear more voices than what is normal for this quiet place. They were emanating from the receiving ‘room’:
An outdoor deck on the second floor where visitors are normally received, weather permitting. This is, by the way, another of my favorite sit spots, before mid-afternoon when the sun hits it more directly. Here’s the view at 8:30 in the morning. The sun does not rise here until after 10 because it has to climb over the mountain first.
(End of digression.)
Today (on the Julian calendar), it turns out, is the feast day for Pachomios the Newmartyr—an important saint for the Skete because he lived part of his life here. (If you are interested, you can read about him here.). It’s also an important day for this hut because it’s one of the monk’s name day.
On your name day here (and quite generally in Greece, and maybe most traditionally Orthodox lands), people come to visit you, and you provide the hospitality. So all day people have been trickling into the hut to greet Fr. Pachomios, and receiving the customary hospitality.
The small group that was here when I arrived included a Romanian monk from Agiou Pavlou, and three Romanian pilgrims that came with him. Father Paisios started explaining to the monk, who is obviously fluent in Greek, who I am, and the monk would, in turn, explain to his pilgrims in Romanian.
They were obviously intrigued, especially with hearing more about Holy Dormition Monastery so Fr. Paisios went to get the copy of our 30th Anniversary booklet I gave him. (I brought several copies to give to interested persons, and eventually gave one to this monk.) As they were looking through the book, primarily at the photos, with Fr. Paisios guiding, the enthusiasm and intensity kept growing so that as Fr. Paisios was recounting to the monk in Greek the life of Fr. Roman, the monk was simultaneously translating into Romanian. Their faces were beaming with the brightness, dare I say, of Fr. Roman himself. Joyous laughter was interspersed with sober realities.
Needful to say, my initial reaction was to want to tell my Fr. Roman stories. There’s nothing I enjoy more than telling a good Fr. Roman story—at least that’s what I thought. But as the cacophonous conversation continued, I felt the ‘the-need-to-speak’ bodily tension drain from me (a certain gift from Fr. Roman, for he had that effect on me countless times, and still does), allowing me to relax and sit back in my seat, ...
... and simply experience them in their seats, ...
... enraptured by the life of Fr. Roman.
I sat in delightful ignorance experiencing five people simultaneously speaking in two tongues about a joyous confessor of the faith whom none of them had ever met in the flesh. There is something I enjoy more than telling Fr. Roman stories: peacefully experiencing others meet him, receive him, as he makes himself known to them.
