Psalm 22/23, A Psalm of David
(from the Septuagint according to the Seventy)
The Lord is my shepherd, and I shall not want.
In a place of green pasture, there hath He made me to dwell; beside the water of rest hath He nurtured me.
He hath converted my soul, He hath led me on the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
For though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they have comforted me.
Thou hast prepared a table for me in the presence of them that afflict me.
Thou hast anointed my head with oil, and Thy cup which filleth me, how excellent it is!
And Thy mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord unto length of days.
On my recent pilgrimage to Serbia, an historically Orthodox nation, I was prepared to spend two weeks soaking in the beauty, depth, and history of the Orthodox ethos. I had not anticipated that part of its beauty would also be its suffering from a conflict that has not entirely cooled in the last 20 years along with over 800 years of conflicts and invasions. For the American mind, this is unthinkable. Safe between our boundary oceans, our only conflicts have been amongst ourselves or on foreign lands, with 9/11 being the singular, unthinkable exception.
We entered the territory of Kosovo, familiar to us because of the 1999 conflict during the Clinton administration. Like most Americans, I knew of it but not enough to understand. All I went in knowing was that it was a messy business full of of historically-bred religious infighting, ethnic cleansing, and finger-pointing. The seriousness of the situation was driven home when we crossed the border, submitted our passports and declared our intentions. The sight of of U.N. troops increased significantly, Christian sites were cordoned off and gated with barbed wire to prevent vandalism and nefarious activity, and at Dečani we were required to submit our passports to KFOR guards holding rifles before entering the monastery grounds.
In Kosovo, we visited several monasteries and churches where faithful monastics are living out their Christian lives surrounded by actual enemies who would rather see them gone. We had the opportunity to speak to the nuns at Gračanica and the monks at Dečani monastery. What impressed me in both situations was not just a sense of peace, which one might expect from monastics whose primary occupation is prayer, but also by their joy. They were some of the most joyful people I have ever seen. They spoke openly about their struggles and their suffering, and the challenges they have to face in their situation, surrounded by conflict. But within the walls of their monasteries, I felt joyful. There was a kind of profound security that seemed to bubble up from below the surface, or cover them like a dome. I felt that even if we should be attacked (not that we were in any particular danger at that time) it wouldn’t matter. The sense of trust in God was deep and practiced, and whether present on earth or present in eternity, our lives were secure because of the prayers of so many monastics rising from the middle ages until today, including theirs. Though I struggle to remember verbatim the words they spoke, I vividly recall their attitude concerning suffering: It was full of love and prayer for those who opposed them, of exhortation not to be discouraged because Christ is in our midst, and that through prayer and repentance fear is overcome. I could believe them because their countenances reflected it.
When we entered Dečani monastery, we first venerated the incorrupt relics of its founder, St. Stephen of Dečani (1285-1331 A.D.). The monk who welcomed us walked to the front of the church, removed the glass cover of the marble sarcophagus, and we filed up and kissed the hand of the King-Martyr-Saint. “St. Stephen, pray to God for us.” By this point in the trip, unlike my experience in the first post of this series, I was growing used to this Orthodox habit.
The story of St. Stephen is amazing in itself, and I would encourage you to read the story of this much beloved king and Saint here in this article. He was taken as a hostage by Tatars, later falsely accused of treachery by his conniving stepmother, blinded by order of his own father and imprisoned in a monastery in Constantinople, miraculously healed by St. Nicholas, restored to the throne, and later supplanted by his own son. He died a martyr’s death at the hands of treacherous men. These hardships only deepened his dependence on God, and he is remembered by the Serbian people as a pious and Godly king. He desired to build a temple and monastery to the Glory of God, and he did, though he did not see its completion. Seven years after his death his remains were exhumed after he appeared in dreams to several people insisting that this be carried out. When his body was exhumed it was found to be incorrupt, meaning it has not decomposed. His skin and bones are still intact, and when his grave was opened a beautiful fragrance welled up from his relics. In the church of the Ascension of our Lord at Dučani, his body lies in a marble tomb and as I just mentioned, is still venerated by the faithful. Though the skin has blackened, his relics have remained incorrupt for nearly 800 years. Since it is not the Orthodox practice to embalm, this is nothing less than a miracle, and is seen as a testimony to the holy state in which he lives. He remains the patron and protector of the monastery.
Dučani Monastery is the only monastery of all of the ones we saw that to this day had never been sacked. It has been looted repeatedly, and other buildings of the complex have been ruined in the past, but the main temple has never been desecrated or destroyed. On a couple of occasions invaders have attempted to remove the relics of King Stephen but were prevented by mysterious misfortunes. One such example occurred in 1918, when Bulgarians looted the monastery and attempted to remove the relics of St. Stephen, but written records show that the wagon on which his incorrupt body was placed would not move from the monastery grounds and his relics were returned to the church unmolested.
Within the walls and grounds of this beautiful setting, Dečani monastery thrives as a place of sanctuary and vibrant worship. The monks who reside there are nearly self-sufficient. Through their labors, the property sustains gardens, orchards, and livestock. In recent history they have been a refuge for those seeking shelter from conflict. They themselves have been targets in the conflict, but their peace is profound. Their joy is ineffable. This small spot of the planet has continued as a holy space dedicated to the worship of God for nearly 800 years, and that simple reality gives me great hope, knowing that there are monks within those walls who are continually praying for the world and the salvation of all men.
But one cannot help but wonder—why has this particular place been so specially protected? Why not Gračanica, which has been the victim of multiple bomb attacks? Why not the church of Our Lady of Ljevis in Prizren which was burned in 2004 in civil unrest? Someone dared ask one of the monks this very question, and his simple answer was, “As God wills.”
And isn’t that the sticky wicket that plagues much of humanity and repels people from accepting the Christian faith? How can a loving God allow bad things to happen, especially to people who claim to worship him? The answer lies not in the miraculous protection of a particular monastery over another, or why some are permitted great suffering instead of others, but rather in the prayers of the people. The monks and nuns and the faithful who surround them are themselves the miracles. They do not fear what may befall them in their lives. They understand that God loves their enemies as much as He loves those who worship Him. They rejoice in suffering, knowing that it produces greater patience and endurance until the day of their deaths. They understand that God gives humanity such freedom that he allows evil men to do evil things, even to His children, but he has equipped His own with such grace and strength that through repentance and prayer, fear is vanquished and death is a mere threshold into his presence and eternal life. Meanwhile, evil men are permitted the opportunity to repent, if they will. This bears witness to Christ’s words, “Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.” (John 15:13) They have fixed their eyes upon the eternal, devaluing the temporal (II Corinthians 4:17).
For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
II Corinthians 4:17-18
It may be clear that I am becoming much less of a materialist and much more of a believer in the mystical and miraculous. It the past I suppose I gave lip service to miracles, but Protestant Me (who appears in previous posts) was still very much a skeptic and defined miracles on my own terms based on what could be proven to my materialist mindset. However, the monastics dwelling in these monasteries are surrounded daily by such miraculous stories, with icons and relics of great saints and martyrs, and traditions and liturgies that buoy their faith and assist them in prayer. In living amongst this “great cloud of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1), tremendous weight is added to the part of the verse that says, “Thou preparest a table before me” and “my cup runneth over” making “in the presence of mine enemies” almost insignificant, except that the enemies exist in a very real way. These Christians are themselves part of the living, miraculous witness to God’s faithfulness and truth and herein lies the miracle—they feast at the Lord’s table in the presence of their enemies, and I have seen it with my own eyes. “…My cup overfloweth. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” (Psalm 23 KJV)
The righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance,
He shall not fear evil tidings
Psalm 111/112:6