A relative of Emperor Theodosius the Great — Elpidius, a Spaniard who ruled the Eastern portion of the Byzantine Empire at that time — desired to marry Olympiada and asked the Emperor’s support in the matter. But even Emperor Theodosius himself was not able to persuade Olympiada to agree to the proposal. Her mind was set. She declared, “If the King of Heaven had desired me to be married, He would not have allowed my first husband to die… But He laid on me the gentle yoke of chastity.”

Frustrated by her refusal, the conniving Elpidius accused her before the Emperor of squandering her inheritance. The result was that her wealth was ordered to be held in trust by the Prefect of the City until Olympiada should reach the age of thirty (recall that she was only 18 at the time.) In his efforts to force Olympiada’s consent, the executor exceeded the imperial decree; not only did he deprive Olympiada of the right to distribute her funds as she pleased but he restrained her personal freedom, placing her virtually under house arrest and even forbidding her to attend church.

Olympiada put up with this treatment for a while, regarding it as a trial sent by God to test her character. She did not complain about the personal grief she suffered, but she felt sorry (and prayed) for those poor people who were deprived of her help.

Eventually, she wrote a letter to Emperor Theodosius: “You granted me a favor, in freeing me from the burden of managing my estate; but may I request that you order the one to whom it has been entrusted to give it to the poor. If you do this, you will save me from pride.” (…apparently she referred to the possible pride of being persecuted for Christ’s sake).

Having read the letter, Theodosius decreed that Olympiada’s inheritance be returned to her, and she recommenced her charitable activities. Her benevolence earned her great respect from all quarters. Patriarch Nektarios ordained her as deaconess well below the canonical age of forty — and this vocation was one that bore with it a responsibility she joyfully fulfilled. In the 5th century a deaconess was a full-time church worker, assisting the bishop in the baptism of women, visiting Christian women in their homes, managing the charitable work of the Church, and tending to the pastoral and spiritual needs of the women in the Church.

Her charity knew few bounds. St. John Chrysostom (who in 398 succeeded Patriarch Nektarios) compared her charitable acts to a river that is accessible to all and whose waters flow over the earth and eventually into the ocean. The most distant towns, isles and deserts received plentiful supplies from Olympiada. She bought whole estates and gave them to remote destitute churches so that they would receive the revenue as income. St John Chrysostom asked her to moderate her charity — or at least be more cautious and reserved in bestowing it — so that she might be able to help many others whose need was greater.

At one time, Patriarch Theophilos of Alexandria set out to persecute Olympiada. She had taken in some notorious monks whom he had expelled. The Church historian Palladius claims that in her actions she was actually imitating her Lord, hinting that Theophilos’ wrath against her had more to do with her refusal to send him some of her money than it had because she had sheltered his renegade monks. (The monks actually were defended by St. John Chrysostom as well.)

Among Olympiada’s close friends were the great bishops Gregory the Theologian, Gregory of Nyssa, Peter of Sebaste, Epiphanius of Cyprus and Amphilochius of Iconium — with all of whom she maintained an ongoing correspondence. She was especially devoted to St. John Chrysostom on whose account she would soon suffer persecution.

He was permitted to visit Olympiada and her sister deaconesses in their monastery, and did so regularly. Olympiada prepared daily meals for him and sent supplies to him throughout the rest of his life. This included care packages when he was in exile.

Upon assuming the patriarchal throne, St. John had tried to reform the corrupt clergy, the court and the populace of Constantinople . His reputation for being a charismatic speaker — but very outspoken — was well known in Byzantium . He eventually become so critical of the luxurious and sensuous excesses of Emperor Arcadius and Empress Eudoxia (who he called a latter-day Jezebel) and of many of his brother-bishops that he brought down upon himself their combined wrath. He was condemned by the local councils, removed from his hierarchial see, deposed and exiled, and eventually died of exhaustion and exposure in Armenia .

Like so many of the populace of Byzantium , Olympiada was grieved by St. John’s sentence of exile. The night before he was sent into exile, St. John called her and the other deaconesses of Constantinople together in the Baptisry of the cathedral and entreated them not to abandon their labors, “Come here my daughters. I see that the things concerning me have an end. … This is what I ask of you, to remain in the Church and accept the legitimate successor, whoever that might be.” He left the city on June 20, in the year 404.

On the 21st there was a great fire in the cathedral of Agia Sophia and the adjacent Senate Chambers. This fire spread through the city. Enemies of the exiled John Chrysostom accused his followers of arson. Olympiada was among those brought to trial before the Prefect Optatus (who was a pagan and had no interest in Christian “issues”). In answer to the charges she replied, “My past life ought to avert all suspicion from me, for I have devoted my large property to the restoration of the temples of God.”

Even though her good deeds attested to her innocence, she was still required to pay a stiff penalty. She continued to be harassed — even after being forced out of Constantinople , living in exile across the Bosphorus in Nicomedia . From his own place of exile, St. John consoled Olympiada with his active correspondence. He encouraged her to maintain a courageous spirit, not to give in to excessive grief, and to bear patiently her temporal misfortunes. Seventeen of the letters he wrote to her during the three years of his exile (404 to 407) still exist.

He wrote: “Do not be anxious on my behalf, nor rack yourself with anxiety, on account of the severity of the winter, the weakness of my digestion, and the hostilities of the locals. For the winter is only what it is wont to be in Armenia ; nothing more need be said about it; and it does not very seriously injure me. In anticipation of these things I have devised many plans for averting the mischief which might arise from them; keeping up a constant fire, setting screens about the room in which I live, using a large number of rugs, and staying always indoors. This indeed is irksome to me, but as long as I remain indoors I am not severely distressed by the cold. If I am compelled to go out a little, and come in contact with the outer air, I suffer much damage to my health.”

“Only one thing is truly terrible,” he continued, “and that is sin …. No matter how severe any misfortune might be, remember that no earthly misfortune is everlasting; these exist only in relation to our mortal bodies; they do not affect the strong in spirit.”

Olympiada became embroiled in an ecclesiastical controversy between certain bishops. In addition to maintaining her close relationship with the exiled John Chrysostom and because she supported other Orthodox hierarchs (in the face of schism and heresy) Olympiada’s goods were seized and sold at a public auction; she was often dragged before public tribunals; her clothes were torn by the soldiers, her farms were rifled. Her whole community of nuns was disbanded by imperial decree.

In another letter, St. John commended Olympiada for bearing her trials peacefully, as a true Christian and encouraged her to rejoice under her sicknesses, which she ought to place among her most precious crowns, in imitation of Job and Lazarus.

“Now I am deeply joyful, not only because you have been delivered from sickness, but even more because you are bearing adversities with such fortitude, calling them trifles—a characteristic of a soul filled with power and abounding in the rich fruits of courage. You are not only enduring misfortune with fortitude, but are making light of it in a seemingly effortless way, rejoicing and triumphing over it—this is a proof of the greatest wisdom.”

“It’s amazing,” he concludeded, “You don’t make speeches in the middle of the city; you simply sit in your little house; you sit in bed, sick; and nevertheless you manage to give your visitors courage; you anoint them for warfare. The sea is so rough; the waves rise so high; everywhere there is danger of unseen rocks, abysses, fierce sea monsters. But you stand on the deck of your ship as if it were a clear day with a favorable wind. Unfurling the sails of patience, you glide along smoothy, peacefully. The harsh storm of contemporary events has no power to capsize you with its waves; even their spray does not reach you.”

St. Olympiada fell asleep in the Lord at Nicomedia on July 25, 408 , around the age of 40. Her incorrupt relics were later transferred to Constantinople and placed in the convent that she founded.  Since her death, her relics have given rise to many miracles.

St. Olympiada has become a patron of “Lay Ministries” in the Church — an example to all as to what one can do with one’s personal resources, whether those resources are of time, or talent or personal treasure.

There was a certain elder in one of the monasteries of Palestine, a priest of the holy life and speech, who from childhood had been brought up in monastic ways and customs. This elder’s name was Zosimas. He had been through the whole course of the ascetic life and in everything he adhered to the rule once given to him by his tutors as regard spiritual labours. he had also added a good deal himself whilst labouring to subject his flesh to the will of the spirit. And he had not failed in his aim. He was so renowned for his spiritual life that many came to him from neighboring monasteries and some even from afar. While doing all this, he never ceased to study the Divine Scriptures. Whether resting, standing, working or eating food (if the scraps he nibbled could be called food), he incessantly and constantly had a single aim: always to sing of God, and to practice the teaching of the Divine Scriptures. Zosimas used to relate how, as soon as he was taken from his mother’s breast, he was handed over to the monastery where he went through his training as an ascetic till he reached the age of 53. After that, he began to be tormented with the thought that he was perfect in everything and needed no instruction from anyone, saying to himself mentally, “Is there a monk on earth who can be of use to me and show me a kind of asceticism that I have not accomplished? Is there a man to be found in the desert who has surpassed me?”

Thus thought the elder, when suddenly an angel appeared to him and said:

“Zosimas, valiantly have you struggled, as far as this is within the power of man, valiantly have you gone through the ascetic course. But there is no man who has attained perfection. Before you lie unknown struggles greater than those you have already accomplished. That you may know how many other ways lead to salvation, leave your native land like the renowned patriarch Abraham and go to the monastery by the River Jordan.”

Zosimas did as he was told. he left the monastery in which he had lived from childhood, and went to the River Jordan. At last he reached the community to which God had sent him. Having knocked at the door of the monastery, he told the monk who was the porter who he was; and the porter told the abbot. On being admitted to the abbot’s presence, Zosimas made the usual monastic prostration and prayer. Seeing that he was a monk the abbot asked:“Where do you come from, brother, and why have you come to us poor old men?”

Zosimas replied: “There is no need to speak about where I have come from, but I have come, father, seeking spiritual profit, for I have heard great things about your skill in leading souls to God.”

“Brother,” the abbot said to him, “Only God can heal the infirmity of the soul. May He teach you and us His divine ways and guide us. But as it is the love of Christ that has moved you to visit us poor old men, then stay with us, if that is why you have come. May the Good Shepherd Who laid down His life for our salvation fill us all with the grace of the Holy Spirit.”

After this, Zosimas bowed to the abbot, asked for his prayers and blessing, and stayed in the monastery. There he saw elders proficient both in action and the contemplation of God, aflame in spirit, working for the Lord. They sang incessantly, they stood in prayer all night, work was ever in their hands and psalms on their lips. Never an idle word was heard among them, they know nothing about acquiring temporal goods or the cares of life. But they had one desire — to become in body like corpses. Their constant food was the Word of God, and they sustained their bodies on bread and water, as much as their love for God allowed them Seeing this, Zosimas was greatly edified and prepared for the struggle that lay before him.

Many days passed and the time drew near when all Christians fast and prepare themselves to worship the Divine Passion and Ressurection of Christ. The monastery gates were kept always locked and only opened when one of the community was sent out on some errand. It was a desert place, not only unvisited by people of the world but even unknown to them.

There was a rule in that monastery which was the reason why God brought Zosimas there. At the beginning of the Great Fast [on Forgiveness Sunday] the priest celebrated the holy Liturgy and all partook of the holy body and blood of Christ. After the Liturgy they went to the refectory and would eat a little lenten food.

Then all gathered in church, and after praying earnestly with prostrations, the elders kissed one another and asked forgiveness. And each made a prostration to the abbot and asked his blessing and prayers for the struggle that lay before them. After this, the gates of the monastery were thrown open, and singing, “The Lord is my light and my Savior; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the defender of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 26:1) and the rest of that psalm, all went out into the desert and crossed the River Jordan. Only one or two brothers were left in the monastery, not to guard the property (for there was nothing to rob), but so as not to leave the church without Divine Service. Each took with him as much as he could or wanted in the way of food, according to the needs of his body: one would take a little bread, another some figs, another dates or wheat soaked in water. And some took nothing but their own body covered with rags and fed when nature forced them to it on the plants that grew in the desert.

After crossing the Jordan, they all scattered far and wide in different directions. And this was the rule of life they had, and which they all observed — neither to talk to one another, nor to know how each one lived and fasted. If they did happen to catch sight of one another, they went to another part of the country, living alone and always singing to God, and at a definite time eating a very small quantity of food. In this way they spent the whole of the fast and used to return to the monastery a week before the Resurrection of Christ, on Palm Sunday. Each one returned having his own conscience as the witness of his labour, and no one asked another how he had spent his time in the desert. Such were rules of the monastery. Everyone of them whilst in the desert struggled with himself before the Judge of the struggle — God — not seeking to please men and fast before the eyes of all. For what is done for the sake of men, to win praise and honour, is not only useless to the one who does it but sometimes the cause of great punishment.

Zosimas did the same as all. And he went far, far into the desert with a secret hope of finding some father who might be living there and who might be able to satisfy his thirst and longing. And he wandered on tireless, as if hurrying on to some definite place. He had already waled for 20 days and when the 6th hour came he stopped and, turning to the East, he began to sing the sixth Hour and recite the customary prayers. He used to break his journey thus at fixed hours of the day to rest a little, to chant psalms standing and to pray on bent knees.

And as he sang thus without turning his eyes from the heavens, he suddenly saw to the right of the hillock on which he stood the semblance of a human body. At first he was confused thinking he beheld a vision of the devil, and even started with fear. But, having guarded himself with he sign of the Cross and banished all fear, he turned his gaze in that direction and in truth saw some form gliding southwards. It was naked, the skin dark as if burned up by the heat of the sun; the hair on its head was white as a fleece, and not long, falling just below its neck. Zosimas was so overjoyed at beholding a human form that he ran after it in pursuit, but the form fled from him. He followed. At length, when he was near enough to be heard, he shouted:

“Why do you run from an old man and a sinner? Slave of the True God, wait for me, whoever you are, in God’s name I tell you, for the love of God for Whose sake you are living in the desert.”

“Forgive me for God’s sake, but I cannot turn towards you and show you my face, Abba Zosimas. For I am a woman and naked as you see with the uncovered shame of my body. But if you would like to fulfil one wish of a sinful woman, throw me your cloak so that I can cover my body and can turn to you and ask for your blessing.”

Here terror seized Zosimas, for he heard that she called him by name. But he realized that she could not have done so without knowing anything of him if she had not had the power of spiritual insight.

He at once did as he was asked. He took off his old, tattered cloak and threw it to her, turning away as he did so. She picked it up and was able to cover at least a part of her body. The she turned to Zosimas and said:

“Why did you wish, Abba Zosimas, to see a sinful woman? What do you wish to hear or learn from me, you who have not shrunk from such great struggles?”

St Mary receives the divine Mysteries from Zosimas

Zosimas threw himself on the ground and asked for her blessing. She likewise bowed down before him. And thus they lay on the ground prostrate asking for each other’s blessing. And one word alone could be heard from both: “Bless me!” After a long while the woman said to Zosimas:

“Abba Zosimas, it is you who must give blessing and pray. You are dignified by the order of priesthood and for many years you have been standing before the holy altar and offering the sacrifice of the Divine Mysteries.”

This flung Zosimas into even greater terror. At length with tears he said to her:

“O mother, filled with the spirit, by your mode of life it is evident that you live with God and have died to the world. The Grace granted to you is apparent — for you have called me by name and recognized that I am a priest, though you have never seen me before. Grace is recognized not by one’s orders, but by gifts of the Spirit, so give me your blessing for God’s sake, for I need your prayers.”

Then, giving way before the wish of the elder, the woman said:

“Blessed is God Who cares for the salvation of men and their souls.”

Zosimas answered:

“Amen.”

And both rose to their feet. Then the woman asked the elder:

“Why have you come, man of God, to me who am so sinful? Why do you wish to see a woman naked and devoid of every virtue? Though I know one thing — the Grace of the Holy Spirit has brought you to render me a service in time. Tell me, father, how are the Christian peoples living? And the kings? How is the Church guided?”

Zosimas said:

“By your prayers, mother, Christ has granted lasting peace to all. But fulfill the unworthy petition of an old man and pray for the whole world and for me who am a sinner, so that my wanderings in the desert may not be fruitless.”

She answered:

“You who are a priest, Abba Zosimas, it is you who must pray for me and for all — for this is your calling. But as we must all be obedient, I will gladly do what you ask.”

And with these words she turned to the East, and raising her eyes to heaven and stretching out her hands, she began to pray in a whisper. One could not hear separate words, so that Zosimas could not understand anything that she said in her prayers. Meanwhile he stood, according to his own word, all in a flutter, looking at the ground without saying a word. And he swore, calling God to witness, that when at length he thought that her prayer was very long, he took his eyes off the ground and saw that she was raised bout a forearm’s distance from the ground and stood praying in the air. When he saw this, even greater terror seized him and he fell on the ground weeping and repeating may times, “Lord have mercy.”

And whilst lying prostrate on the ground he was tempted by a thought: Is it not a spirit, and perhaps her prayer is hypocrisy. But at the very same moment the woman turned round, raised the elder from the ground and said:

“Why do thoughts confuse you, Abba, and tempt you about me, as if I were a spirit and a dissember in prayer? Know, holy father, that I am only a sinful woman, though I am guarded by Holy baptism. And I am no spirit but earth and ashes, and flesh alone.”

And with these words she guarded herself with the sign of the Cross on her forehead, eyes, mouth and breast, saying:

“May God defend us from the evil one and from his designs, for fierce is his struggle against us.”

Hearing and seeing this, the elder fell to the ground and, embracing her feet, he said with tears:

“I beg you, by the Name of Christ our God, Who was born of a Virgin, for Whose sake you have stripped yourself, for Whose sake you have exhausted your flesh, do not hide from your slave, who you are and whence and how you came into this desert. Tell me everything so that the marvellous works of God may become known. A hidden wisdom and a secret treasure — what profit is there in them? Tell me all, I implore you. for not out of vanity or for self-display will you speak but to reveal the truth to me, an unworthy sinner. I believe in God, for whom you live and whom you serve. I believe that He led me into this desert so as to show me His ways in regard to you. It is not in our power to resist the plans of God. If it were not the will of God that you and your life would be known, He would not have allowed be to see you and would not have strengthened me to undertake this journey, one like me who never before dared to leave his cell.”

Much more said Abba Zosimas. But the woman raised him and said:

“I am ashamed, Abba, to speak to you of my disgraceful life, forgive me for God’s sake! But as you have already seen my naked body I shall likewise lay bare before you my work, so that you may know with what shame and obscenity my soul is filled. I was not running away out of vanity, as you thought, for what have I to be proud of — I who was the chosen vessel of the devil? But when I start my story you will run from me, as from a snake, for your ears will not be able to bear the vileness of my actions. But I shall tell you all without hiding anything, only imploring you first of all to pray incessantly for me, so that I may find mercy on the day of Judgment.”

The elder wept and the woman began her story.

“My native land, holy father, was Egypt. Already during the lifetime of my parents, when I was twelve years old, I renounced their love and went to Alexandria. I am ashamed to recall how there I at first ruined my maidenhood and then unrestrainedly and insatiably gave myself up to sensuality. It is more becoming to speak of this briefly, so that you may just know my passion and my lechery. for about seventeen years, forgive me, I lived like that. I was like a fire of public debauch. And it was not for the sake of gain — here I speak the pure truth. Often when they wished to pay me, I refused the money. I acted in this way so as to make as many men as possible to try to obtain me, doing free of charge what gave me pleasure. do not think that I was rich and that was the reason why I did not take money. I lived by begging, often by spinning flax, but I had an insatiable desire and an irrepressible passion for lying in filth. This was life to me. Every kind of abuse of nature I regarded as life.

That is how I lived. Then one summer I saw a large crowd of Lybians and Egyptians running towards the sea. I asked one of them, ‘Where are these men hurrying to?’ He replied, ‘They are all going to Jerusalem for the Exaltation of the Precious and Lifegiving Cross, which takes place in a few days.’ I said to him, ‘Will they take me with them if I wish to go?’ ‘No one will hinder you if you have money to pay for the journey and for food.’ And I said to him, ‘To tell you truth, I have no money, neither have I food. But I shall go with them and shall go aboard. And they shall feed me, whether they want to or not. I have a body — they shall take it instead of pay for the journey.’ I was suddenly filled with a desire to go, Abba, to have more lovers who could satisfy my passion. I told you, Abba Zosimas, not to force me to tell you of my disgrace. God is my witness, I am afraid of defiling you and the very air with my words.”

Zosimas, weeping, replied to her:

“Speak on for God’s sake, mother, speak and do not break the thread of such an edifying tale.”

And, resuming her story, she went on:

“That youth, on hearing my shameless words, laughed and went off. While I, throwing away my spinning wheel, ran off towards the sea in the direction which everyone seemed to be taking. and, seeing some young men standing on the shore, about ten or more of them, full of vigour and alert in their movements, I decided that they would do for my purpose (it seemed that some of them were waiting for more travellers whilst others had gone ashore). Shamelessly, as usual, I mixed with the crowd, saying, ‘Take me with you to the place you are going to; you will not find me superfluous.’ I also added a few more words calling forth general laughter. Seeing my readiness to be shameless, they readily took me aboard the boat. Those who were expected came also, and we set sail at once.

How shall I relate to you what happened after this? Whose tongue can tell, whose ears can take in all that took place on the boat during that voyage! And to all this I frequently forced those miserable youths even against their own will. There is no mentionable or unmentionable depravity of which I was not their teacher. I am amazed, Abba, how the sea stood our licentiousness, how the earth did not open its jaws, and how it was that hell did not swallow me alive, when I had entangled in my net so many souls. But I think God was seeking my repentance. For He does not desire the death of a sinner but magnanimously awaits his return to Him. At last we arrived in Jerusalem. I spent the days before the festival in the town, living the same kind of life, perhaps even worse. I was not content with the youths I had seduced at sea and who had helped be to get to Jerusalem; many others — citizens of the town and foreigners — I also seduced.

The holy day of the Exaltation of the Cross dawned while I was still flying about — hunting for youths. At daybreak I saw that everyone was hurrying to the church, so I ran with the rest. When the hour for the holy elevation approached, I was trying to make my way in with the crowd which was struggling to get through the church doors. I had at last squeezed through with great difficulty almost to the entrance of the temple, from which the lifegiving Tree of the Cross was being shown to the people. But when I trod on the doorstep which everyone passed, I was stopped by some force which prevented my entering. Meanwhile I was brushed aside by the crowd and found myself standing alone in the porch. Thinking that this had happened because of my woman’s weakness, I again began to work my way into the crowd, trying to elbow myself forward. But in vain I struggled. Again my feet trod on the doorstep over which others were entering the church without encountering any obstacle. I alone seemed to remain unaccepted by the church. It was as if there was a detachment of soldiers standing there to oppose my entrance. Once again I was excluded by the same mighty force and again I stood in the porch.

Having repeated my attempt three or four times, at last I felt exhausted and had no more strength to push and to be pushed, so I went aside and stood in a corner of the porch. And only then with great difficulty it began to dawn on me, and I began to understand the reason why I was prevented from being admitted to see the life-giving Cross. The word of salvation gently touched the eyes of my heart and revealed to me that it was my unclean life which barred the entrance to me. I began to weep and lament and beat my breast, and to sigh from the depths of my heart. And so I stood weeping when I saw above me the ikon of the most holy Mother of God. And turning to her my bodily and spiritual eyes I said:

‘O Lady, Mother of God, who gave birth in the flesh to God the Word, I know, O how well I know, that it is no honour or praise to thee when one so impure and depraved as I look up to thy ikon, O ever-virgin, who didst keep thy body and soul in purity. Rightly do I inspire hatred and disgust before thy virginal purity. But I have heard that God Who was born of thee became man on purpose to call sinners to repentance. Then help me, for I have no other help. Order the entrance of the church to be opened to me. Allow me to see the venerable Tree on which He Who was born of thee suffered in the flesh and on which He shed His holy Blood for the redemption of sinners and for me, unworthy as I am. Be my faithful witness before thy Son that I will never again defile my body by the impurity of fornication, but as soon as I have seen the Tree of the Cross I will renounce the world and its temptations and will go wherever thou wilt lead me.’

Thus I spoke and as if acquiring some hope in firm faith and feeling some confidence in the mercy of the Mother of God, I left the place where I stood praying. And I went again and mingled with the crowd that was pushing its way into the temple. And no one seemed to thwart me, no one hindered my entering the church. I was possessed with trembling, and was almost in delirium. Having got as far as the doors which I could not reach before — as if the same force which had hindered me cleared the way for me — I now entered without difficulty and found myself within the holy place. And so it was I saw the lifegiving Cross. I saw too the Mysteries of God and how the Lord accepts repentance. Throwing myself on the ground, I worshipped that holy earth and kissed it with trembling. Then I came out of the church and went to her who had promised to be my security, to the place where I had sealed my vow. And bending my knees before the Virgin Mother of God, I addressed to her such words as these:

‘O loving Lady, thou hast shown me thy great love for all men. glory to God Who receives the repentance of sinners through thee. What more can I recollect or say, I who am so sinful? It is time for me, O Lady to fulfil my vow, according to thy witness. Now lead me by the hand along the path of repentance!’ And at these words I heard a voice from on high:

‘If you cross the Jordan you will find glorious rest.’

Hearing this voice and having faith that it was for me, I cried to the Mother of God:

‘O Lady, Lady, do not forsake me!’

With these words I left the porch of the church and set off on my journey. As I was leaving the church a stranger glanced at me and gave me three coins, saying:

‘Sister, take these.’

And, taking the money, I bought three loaves and took them with me on my journey, as a blessed gift. I asked the person who sold the bread: ‘Which is the way to the Jordan?’ I was directed to the city gate which led that way. Running on I passed the gates and still weeping went on my journey. Those I met I asked the way, and after walking for the rest of that day (I think it was nine o’clock when I saw the Cross) I at length reached at sunset the Church of St. John the Baptist which stood on the banks of the Jordan. After praying in the temple, I went down to the Jordan and rinsed my face and hands in its holy waters. I partook of the holy and life-giving Mysteries in the Church of the Forerunner and ate half of one of my loaves. Then, after drinking some water from Jordan, I lay down and passed the night on the ground. In the morning I found a small boat and crossed to the opposite bank. I again prayed to Our Lady to lead me whither she wished. Then I found myself in this desert and since then up to this very day I am estranged from all, keeping away from people and running away from everyone. And I live here clinging to my God Who saves all who turn to Him from faintheartedness and storms.”

Zosimas asked her:

“How many years have gone by since you began to live in this desert?”

She replied:

“Forty-seven years have already gone by, I think, since I left the holy city.”

Zosimas asked:

“But what food do you find?”

The woman said:

“I had two and a half loaves when I crossed the Jordan. Soon they dried up and became hard as rock. Eating a little I gradually finished them after a few years.”

Zosimas asked.

“Can it be that without getting ill you have lived so many years thus, without suffering in any way from such a complete change?”

The woman answered:

“You remind me, Zosimas, of what I dare not speak of. For when I recall all the dangers which I overcame, and all the violent thoughts which confused me, I am again afraid that they will take possession of me.”

Zosimas said:

“Do not hide from me anything; speak to me without concealing anything.”

And she said to him:

“Believe me, Abba, seventeen years I passed in this desert fighting wild beasts — mad desires and passions. When I was about to partake of food, I used to begin to regret the meat and fish of which I had so much in Egypt. I regretted also not having wine which I loved so much, for I drank a lot of wine when I lived in the world, while here I had not even water. I used to burn and succumb with thirst. The mad desire for profligate songs also entered me and confused me greatly, edging me on to sing satanic songs which I had learned once. But when such desires entered me I struck myself on the breast and reminded myself of the vow which I had made, when going into the desert. In my thoughts I returned to the ikon of the Mother of God which had received me and to her I cried in prayer. I implored her to chase away the thoughts to which my miserable soul was succumbing. And after weeping for long and beating my breast I used to see light at last which seemed to shine on me from everywhere. And after the violent storm, lasting calm descended.

And how can I tell you about the thoughts which urged me on to fornication, how can I express them to you, Abba? A fire was kindled in my miserable heart which seemed to burn me up completely and to awake in me a thirst for embraces. As soon as this craving came to me, I flung myself on the earth and watered it with my tears, as if I saw before me my witness, who had appeared to me in my disobedience, and who seemed to threaten punishment for the crime. And I did not rise from the ground (sometimes I lay thus prostrate for a day and a night) until a calm and sweet light descended and enlightened me and chased away the thoughts that possessed me. But always I turned to the eyes of my mind to my Protectress, asking her to extend help to one who was sinking fast in the waves of the desert. And I always had her as my Helper and the Accepter of my repentance. And thus I lived for seventeen years amid constant dangers. And since then even till now the Mother of God helps me in everything and leads me as it were by the hand.”

Zosimas asked:

“Can it be that you did not need food and clothing?”

She answered:

“After finishing the loaves I had, of which I spoke, for seventeen years I have fed on herbs and all that can be found in the desert. The clothes I had when I crossed the Jordan became torn and worn out. I suffered greatly from the cold and greatly from the extreme heat. At times the sun burned me up and at other times I shivered from the frost, and frequently falling to the ground I lay without breath and without motion. I struggled with many afflictions and with terrible temptations. But from that time till now the power of God in numerous ways had guarded my sinful soul and my humble body. When I only reflect on the evils from which Our Lord has delivered me I have imperishable food for hope of salvation. I am fed and clothed by the all-powerful Word of God, the Lord of all. For it is not by bread alone that man lives. And those who have stripped off the rags of sin have no refuge, hiding themselves in the clefts of the rocks (Job 24; Heb. 11:38).”

Hearing that she cited words of Scripture, from Moses and Job, Zosimas asked her:

“And so you have read the psalms and other books?”

She smiled at this and said to the elder:

“Believe be, I have not seen a human face ever since I crossed the Jordan, except yours today. I have not seen a beast or a living being ever since I came into the desert. I never learned from books. I have never even heard anyone who sang and read from them. But the word of God which is alive and active, by itself teaches a man knowledge. And so this is the end of my tale. But, as I asked you in the beginning, so even now I implore you for the sake of the Incarnate word of God, to pray to the Lord for me who am such a sinner.”

Thus concluding here tale she bowed down before him. And with tears the elder exclaimed:

“Blessed is God Who creates the great and wondrous, the glorious and marvellous without end. Blessed is God Who has shown me how He rewards those who fear Him. Truly, O Lord, Thou dost not forsake those who seek Thee!”

And the woman, not allowing the elder to bow down before her, said:

“I beg you, holy father, for the sake of Jesus Christ our God and Savior, tell no one what you have heard, until God delivers me of this earth. And now depart in peace and again next year you shall see me, and I you, if God will preserve us in His great mercy. But for God’s sake, do as I ask you. Next year during Lent do not cross the Jordan, as is your custom in the monastery.”

Zosimas was amazed to hear that she know the rules of the monastery and could only say:

“Glory to God Who bestows great gifts on those who love Him.”

She continued:

“Remain, Abba, in the monastery. And even if you wish to depart, you will not be to do so. And at sunset of the holy day of the Last super, put some of the lifegiving Body and Blood of Christ into a holy vessel worthy to hold such Mysteries for me, and bring it. And wait for me on the banks of the Jordan adjoining the inhabited parts of the land, so that I can come and partake of the lifegiving Gifts. For, since the time I communicated in the temple of the Forerunner before crossing the Jordan even to this day I have not approached the Holy Mysteries. And I thirst for them with irrepressible love and longing. And therefore I ask and implore you to grant me my wish, bring me the lifegiving Mysteries at the very hour when Our Lord made His disciples partake of His Divine Supper. Tell John the Abbot of the monastery where you live. Look to yourself and to your brothers, for there is much that needs correction. Only do not say this now, but when God guides you. Pray for me!”

With these words she vanished in the depths of the desert. And Zosimas, falling down on his knees and bowing down to the ground on which she had stood, sent up glory and thanks to God. And, after wandering thorough the desert, he returned to the monastery on the day all the brothers returned.

For the whole year he kept silent, not daring to tell anyone of what he had seen. But he prayed to God to give him another chance of seeing the ascetic’s dear face. And when at length the first Sunday of the Great Fast came, all went out into the desert with the customary prayers and the singing of psalms. Only Zosimas was held back by illness — he lay in a fever. And then he remembered what the saint had said to him: “and even if you wish to depart, you will not be able to do so.”

Many days passed and at last recovering from his illness he remained in the monastery. And when attain the monks returned and the day of the Last Supper dawned, he did as he had been ordered, and placing some of the most pure Body and Blood into a small chalice and putting some figs and dates and lentils soaked in water into a small basket, he departed for the desert and reached the banks of the Jordan and sat down to wait for the saint. He waited for a long while and then began to doubt. Then, raising his eyes to heaven, he began to pray:

“Grant me, O Lord, to behold that which Thou hast allowed me to behold once. Do not let me depart in vain, being the burden of my sins.”

And then another thought struck him:

“And what if she does come? There is no boat; how will she cross the Jordan to come to me who am so unworthy?”

And as he was pondering thus he saw the holy woman appear and stand on the other side of the river. Zosimas got up rejoicing and glorifying and thanking God. And again the thought came to him that she could not cross the Jordan. Then he saw that she made the sign of the Cross over the waters of the Jordan (and the night was a moonlight one, as he related afterwards) and then she at once stepped on to the waters and began walking across the surface towards him. And when he wanted to prostrate himself, she cried to him while still walking on the water:

“What are you doing, Abba, you are a priest and carrying the divine Gifts!”

He obeyed her and on reaching the shore she said to the elder:

“Bless, father, bless me!”

He answered her trembling, for a state of confusion had overcome him at the sight of the miracle:

“Truly God did not lie when He promised that when we purify ourselves we shall be like Him. Glory to Thee, Christ our God, Who has shown me through this Thy slave how far away I stand from perfection.”

Here the woman asked him to say the Creed and Our Father. He began, she finished the prayer and according to the custom of that time gave him the kiss of peace on the lips. Having partaken of the Holy Mysteries, she raised her hands to heaven and sighed with tears in her eyes, exclaiming:

“Now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, O Lord, according to Thy word; for my eyes have seen Thy salvation.”

Then she said to the elder:

“Forgive me, Abba, for asking you, but fulfil another wish of mine. Go now to the monastery and let God’s grace guard you, and next year come again to the same place where I first met you. Come for God’s sake, for you shall again see me, for such is the will of God.”

He said to her:

“From this day on I would like to follow you and always see your holy face. But now fulfil the one and only wish of an old man and take a little of the food I have brought for you.”

And he showed her the basket, while she just touched the lentils with the tips of her fingers, and taking three grains said that the Holy spirit guards the substance of the soul unpolluted. Then she said:

“Pray, for God’s sake pray for me and remember a miserable wretch.”

Touching the saint’s feet and asking for her prayers for the Church, the kingdom and himself, he let her depart with tears, while he went off sighing and sorrowful, for he could not hope to vanquish the invincible. Meanwhile she again made the sign of the Cross over the Jordan, and stepped on to the waters and crossed over as before. And the elder returned filled with joy and terror, accusing himself of not having asked the saint her name. But he decided to do so next year.

And when another year had passed, he again went into the desert. He reached the same spot but could see no sign of anyone. So, raising his eyes to heaven as before, he prayed:

“Show me, O Lord, Thy pure treasure, which Thou hast concealed in the desert. Show me, I pray Thee, the angel in the flesh, of which the world is not worthy.”

Then on the opposite bank of the river, her face turned towards the rising sun, he saw the saint lying dead. Her hands were crossed according to custom and her face was turned to the East. Running up he shed tears over the saint’s feet and kissed them, not daring to touch anything else.

For a long time he wept. Then reciting the appointed psalms, he said the burial prayers and thought to himself: “Must I bury the body of a saint? Or will this be contrary to her wishes?” And then he saw words traced on the ground by her head:

“Abba Zosimas, bury on this spot the body of humble Mary. Return to dust that which is dust and pray to the Lord for me, who departed in the month of Fermoutin of Egypt, called April by the Romans, on the first day, on the very night of our Lord’s Passion, after having partaken of the Divine Mysteries.” [St. Mary died in 522 A. D.]

Reading this the elder was glad to know the saint’s name. He understood too that as soon as she had partaken of the Divine Mysteries on the shore of the Jordan she was at once transported to the place where she died. The distance which Zosimas had taken twenty days to cover, Mary had evidently traversed in an hour and had at once surrendered her soul to God.

Then Zosimas thought: “It is time to do as she wished. But how am I to dig a grave with nothing in my hands?”

And then he saw nearby a small piece of wood left by some traveller in the desert. Picking it up he began to dig the ground. But the earth was hard and dry and did not yield to the efforts of the elder. He grew tired and covered with sweat. He sighed from the depths of his soul and lifting up his eyes he saw a big lion standing close to the saint’s body and licking her feet. At the sight of the lion he trembled with fear, especially when he called to mind Mary’s words that she had never seen wild beasts in the desert. But guarding himself with the sign of the cross, the thought came to him that the power of the one lying there would protect him and keep him unharmed. Meanwhile the lion drew nearer to him, expressing affection by every movement.

Zosimas said to the lion:

“The Great One ordered that her body was to be buried. But I am old and have not the strength to dig the grave, for I have no spade and it would take too long to go and get one. So can you carry out the work with your claws? Then we can commit to the earth the mortal temple of the saint.”

While he was still speaking the lion with his front paws began to dig a hole deep enough to bury the body.

Again the elder washed the feet of the saint with his tears and calling on her to pray for all, covered the body with earth in the presence of the lion. It was as it had been, naked and uncovered by anything but the tattered cloak which had been given to her by Zosimas and with which Mary, turning away, had managed to cover part of her body. Then both departed. The lion went off into the depth of the desert like a lamb, while Zosimas returned to the monastery glorifying and blessing Christ our Lord. And on reaching the monastery he told all the brothers about everything, and all marvelled on hearing of God’s miracles. And with fear and love they kept the memory of the saint. Abbot John, as St. Mary had previously told Abba Zosimas, found a number of things wrong in the monastery and got rid of them with God’s help. And Saint Zosimas died in the same monastery, almost attaining the age of a hundred, and passed to eternal life. The monks kept this story without writing it down and passed it on by word of mouth to one another.

But I (adds Sophronius) as soon as I heard it, wrote it down. Perhaps someone else, better informed, has already written the life of the Saint, but as far as I could, I have recorded everything, putting truth above all else. May God Who works amazing miracles and generously bestows gifts on those who turn to Him with faith, reward those who seek light for themselves in this story, who hear, read and are zealous to write it, and may He grant them the lot of blessed Mary together with all who at different times have pleased God by their pious thoughts and labours.

And let us also give glory to God, the eternal King, that He may grant us too His mercy in the day of judgment for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord, to Whom belongs all glory, honour, dominion and adoration with the Eternal Father and the Most Holy and Life-giving Spirit, now and always, and throughout all ages. Amen.

At age 32 Archimandrite Tikhon was consecrated Bishop of Lublin in Poland but was soon appointed as Bishop of the Aleutians and Alaska. This included the United States and Canada. The cathedral was located in San Francisco. Bishop Tikhon was the only Orthodox bishop on the North American continent. His flock was made up of a melting-pot of ethnic groups: Native Americans, Russians, Serbs, Greeks, Arabs, Romanians, etc. Bishop Tikhon spent nine years as archpastor of the American Church. He came to realize that the Church in America must not be an extension of the Church of Russia, but must evolve into what St. Innocent had earlier envisioned: an autocephalous Church.

Bishop Tikhon established a seminary in Minneapolis and a monastery at South Canaan, Pennsylvania. He oversaw episcopal consecration of (later Saint) Raphael Hawaweeny, the first bishop consecrated in America. He called for the translation and publication of the divine services into the English language. He moved the diocesan center from San Francisco to New York City, and called the first General Church Council in America.

In 1907 Bishop Tikhon was transferred to the Russian Diocese of Yaroslavl. At the outbreak of the First World War he was appointed to the Diocese of Vilnus often travelling to the front lines to minister to the sick and wounded soldiers.

Bishop Tikhon was elected Metropolitan of Moscow in 1917, presided at the All-Russia Council and was enthroned Patriarch of All-Russia. He faced the tremendous difficulties defending the faithful and the Church from Bolshevik terrors. After the murder of the Royal Family Patriarch Tikhon boldly spoke out against the athiests while attempting to provide a strong national “fatherhood” amid the tempest of revolution and upheaval.

The communists did whatever they could to demoralize him and undermine the Church. Patriarch Tikhon’s health began to fail and after a period of house arrest he was admitted to a hospital where he suffered from heart attacks, kidney disease, sclerosis and asthma. On the Feast of the Annunciation, March 25th, 1925 the Patriarch was given an injection of morphine, “to ease his pain”. The dose proved to be fatal. He died at the age of 60.

In 1989 the Russian Orthdoox Church proclaimed Patriarch Tikhon a saint of the Church, designating him “Enlightener of North America and Confessor of Moscow.”

Father Herman chose Spruce Island (off the coast of Kodiak about one mile) as his own home. He called it New Valaam. It was from here that he ventured out in his missionary activities. He once wrote “I am not alone. God is here, just as He is everywhere. The holy angels are also here…” He is also known for these words: “For our good and for our happiness, let us all make a vow: at least from this day, this hour, this very minute, we should try to love God above all else and carry out His teachings.”

After 43 years in Alaska Father Herman’s end drew near. He told his flock of Aleuts, “Bury me yourselves, and do not wait for the priest. Do not wash my body. Lay it on a board, clasp my hands over my chest, wrap me in my outer cloak, and cover my face. Place my klobuk on my head. If anyone wishes to bid farewell to me, let them kiss the Cross I wear. Do not show my face to anyone.”

Just before he died, Father Herman asked one of his spiritual children to light the candles and read from the Acts of the Holy Apostles. The cell filled with a wonderful, fresh floral scent. The face of the elder glowed, and in his blessedness, Father Herman fell asleep in the Lord on December 13, 1837 at about the age of 80. His spiritual children kept his body lying in state at the orphanage for a number of weeks. His body did not begin to corrupt. The wonderful floral fragrance lingered in the air; his face remained serene. Eventually they buried him on Spruce Island and placed a wooden marker above his grave.

In 1970 he became the first saint to be glorified on this continent. St. Herman, Elder and Wonderworker of Alaska currently lays in state in Holy Resurrection Church on Kodiak.

Elizabeth married Grand Duke Serge of Russia. They had met as children. His mother was the Tsarina of Russia; his brother was Tsar Alexander III; his nephew was Tsar Nicholas II. Nicholas II eventually married Elizabeth’s sister, Alice. (Alice took the name Alexandra when she converted to Orthodoxy from the Lutheran church.)

When Elizabeth married Serge in 1884, she remained a Lutheran. Serge and Elizabeth had no children of their own. Nonetheless, they raised their two nephews. In 1888 Serge and Elizabeth went to the Holy Land. While there they attended the consecration of the Church of St. Mary Magdalene on the Mount of Olives at Jerusalem. Elizabeth remarked that she would like to be buried in that church some day.

After returning to Russia, Elizabeth decided to embrace Orthodox Christianity. This disturbed her Protestant family considerably. She wrote: “I have come to the conclusion that only in this religion (i.e., Orthodox Christianity) can I find all the true and strong faith one must have in God to be a good Christian. I feel within me that this step is bringing me closer to God.” Elizabeth was chrismated on Lazarus Saturday, April 13, 1891. She chose the mother of the Forerunner and Baptist John, St. Elizabeth, as her patron.

Once Elizabeth was asked what her goal in life was. She responded: “To be a fully perfect woman, and this is not easy, because one must learn to forgive everything.” The Grand Duchess was described by those who knew her as being full of peace, calmness, love, goodness and piety. “Rarely has human nature come so near to perfection,” they said.

As governor of the city of Moscow, Serge was not popular with many left-wing, revolutionaries. One terrorist group bombed his carriage in 1905, killing him. The devastated Elizabeth nonetheless visited the assassin in prison and begged him to repent of his sin. She even asked her brother-in-law, Tsar Nicholas, to pardon him.

Elizabeth devoted herself to taking care of wounded soldiers. She gradually took on a monastic style of life. She sold most of her possessions and dedicated the money to a plan which was to develop something somewhere between a hospital and a monastery. It was to be modelled after the image of St. Martha, serving the Lord through serving people — and after the image of St. Mary, serving the Lord through prayer and discipline.

The Ss. Martha and Mary Convent of Mercy opened in 1909 with six nuns. When she herself was tonsured, Elizabeth told her sisters, “I am leaving the brilliant world where I have occupied a lofty position. And now, together with all of you, I am about to ascend to a much greater world, the world of the poor and afflicted.” By 1910 there were thirty nuns living there, and in 1914, the monastic community numbered 97. The nuns were trained in first aid and nursing and in the interior life of a monastic.

The convent had a clinic, a hospital, an orphanage, a school for illiterate women, a soup kitchen for the poor, and a place for poor women laborers to live. The nuns visited the poor in the slums and were trained in the qualities needed to prepare the poor and the terminally-ill for eternal life.

Abbess Elizabeth was known to sleep very little. She spent most of each day and night in work and prayer. She instructed the nuns, nursed the wounded, fed the hungry, administered the community and visited the poor in their homes.

After the Revolution the patients, orphans, poor and indigent residents were gradually removed to state facilities, run by “the people.” As things looked progressively bleaker, Elizabeth had many opportunities to emmigrate to safety. She chose to remain. “We on this earth must look to that Heavenly Homeland with understanding and say with resignation, “Thy will be done.’”

During Bright Week of 1918, Patriarch (later Saint) Tikhon celebrated the Divine Liturgy at Ss. Martha and Mary. Half an hour after he left, Red Army soldiers arrested Abbess Elizabeth. One of the nuns, Mother Barbara, remained with her. They were sent east of Perm to Alapaevsk where they were joined by other imprisoned Romanovs.

During the night of July 17th, eight prisoners were taken to an abandoned mine and thrown down into the 160 ft. deep shaft. A witness who was hidden from sight reported that the Grand Duchess continually prayed, “Forgive them, Lord, they do not know what they are doing.” The Communists threw grenades down the shaft. Apparently only one of the eight died from the blasts. Abbess Elizabeth had actually landed on a ledge about 45 feet down. Despite her own injuries, she used her veil to bandage the wounds of those with her on the ledge. Witnesses later testified to hearing prayers, the singing of the Cherubic Hymn and “O Lord, save Your People” form the mine shaft. Eventually a fire was set in the mine. Nonetheless, singing could be heard until the early morning hours of the next day. Soon all had died.

In October the White Army had captured this area. The eight bodies were discovered in the mine shaft. Funeral rites were held for them at the nearby cathedral on October 18th. The bodies were secretly taken by train to Siberia. When the nuns’ coffins were opened so that Elizabeth and Barbara could be properly vested in their monastic habits, Elizabeth’s body did not show any signs of decomposition. Six months later the bodies were moved to Peking, China where they remained until 1945, when the Red Army occupied Manchuria.

Grand Duchess Elizabeth’s family (who had escaped Russia in time) arranged for the bodies of the two nuns to be transported to Jerusalem. They were entombed in the crypt of the Church of St. Mary Magdalene, above the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives.

In 1981, the coffins were again opened. as part of the examination of their remains just prior to their glorification as saints. When Elizabeth’s coffin lid was removed, the room was filled with the pungent fragrance of jasmine and honey. Her body still remained partially uncorrupted. The relics of the two martyrs now rest in the nave of the church.

Why do we keep relics in the church, and why do we venerate them?

“Relic” simply means “remains” — the material remains of a saint after he or she falls asleep in the Lord. We believe that the body is sanctified and transfigured along with the soul. The grace of God is present in the bodies of the saints during their life. God’s grace is also present in their remains after they have died. These relics can be channels of His divine power and healing, just His divine power and healing is present in the saints during their lifetime. He can even use ordinary objects as instruments of His mighty deeds: Elijah’s mantle (2 Kings 2:14), the bones of the Prophet Elisha (2 Kings 12:21), the pieces of cloth of Acts 19:12 which had wondrous power.

Very early in the history of the Church relics of the saints were gathered and honored: In A.D. 156, we know that the faithful of Smyrna took the relics of their martyred bishop Polycarp, venerated and cared for them.

In some instances the bodies of the saints are wondrously preserved from corruption and decay as a sign of the presence in this world of God’s Kingdom. But even when incorruption has not occurred, we show veneration toward the relics of the saints.

Christ took on the flesh (something from the material order of creation) and made it possible for all creation to be changed and redeemed, transfigured, healed and saved. The earth is intrinsically sacred: originally created good. It was corrupted by the fall, but it was redeemed in Christ. Our faith is that the souls and bodies of the saints — in some tangible manner — reflect this transfiguration and restoration to the Kingdom (see Daniel 7:22).

So, when we come into the presence of the remains of the saints, we come into the presence of the Kingdom of God.

An anonymous Greek wrote in the tenth century that,

“…the West as well as the East acclaims and glorifies him. Wherever there are people, in the country and the town, in the villages, in the isles, in the furthest parts of the Earth, his name is revered and churches are built in his honor. Images of him are set up, panegyrics preached and festivals celebrated. All Christians, young and old, men and women, boys and girls, reverence his memory and call upon his protection. And his favors, which know no limit of time and continue from age to age, are poured out over all the Earth; the Scythians know them, as do the Indians and the barbarians, the Africans as well as the Italians.”

St. Nicholas grew to such great popularity in the Orthodox Church that his icon eventually became the fourth most important icon in the hierarchy of the iconostasis, the wooden lacework that separates the altar from the congregation.

To disregard the legends (of St. Nicholas) would be to condemn ourselves to lose so much of the past. Let us give the word back its real meaning: legends are “legenda,” things we must read. There are icons, statues, paintings and stained-glass windows depicting St. Nicholas everywhere in Christendom. In memory of the devoted hands that made them, and of the innumerable people who have prayed beside them, let us quite simply read these legends, with, if possible, the eyes of the past in search of God’s true witness, St. Nicholas.

The Early Years of St. Nicholas

Nicholas was exceedingly well brought up by his parents and walked piously in their footsteps. He then strove to live according to the Christian principles he’d learned from them and from his parents.

His mother and father taught him to be generous to others, especially to those in need.

Nicholas learned that helping others makes one richer in life than anything else.

St. Simeon Metaphrastes wrote that young Nicholas showed from the beginning that he wanted to please God.

Nicholas was nine years old when a plague swept through his village. Both his father and mother died. Although Nicholas moved in with friends of his parents, he felt lost without the two people he’d loved so dearly. The seed that they had planted in him, however, continued to grow.

Young Nicholas often visited his uncle Nicholas, who was bishop over Patara, and helped him with the Divine Liturgy there. Nicholas assisted the older men at the church so that he’d benefit from their example and guidance.

Under Uncle Nicholas’ guardianship, the young boy learned the texts of prayers, details of rituals, and showed a remarkably quick mind and sincere devotion.

Nicholas passed entire days and nights in church lifting up his heart to God in prayer and reading the Holy Scriptures and other Christian books. He meditated on spiritual knowledge, enriching himself in the divine grace of the Holy Spirit and creating within himself a worthy dwelling for Him.

His uncle rejoiced at the spiritual success and deep piety of his nephew. He ordained Nicholas a reader in the church, and then elevated him to the dignity of presbyter, making him his assistant and entrusting him to speak, instructing the flock. In serving the Lord, young Nicholas was fervent of spirit, and in his proficiency with questions of faith, he was like an elder, which aroused the wonder and deep respect of believers.

Constantly at work and in prayer, presbyter Nicholas displayed great kind-heartedness towards the flock, and towards the afflicted who came to him for help.

St Nicholas added labors to labors; keeping vigil and remaining in unceasing prayer and fasting, he, being mortal, strove to imitate the bodiless ones. Merciful, trustworthy and loving what is right, he walked among the people like an angel of God.

Having obtained his parents’ inheritance, St Nicholas distributed it to the needy. For he paid no attention to temporal riches. His hand was outstretched to the poor, on whom it poured alms richly, as a water-filled river abounds in streams.

His parents had left him an inheritance, which enabled him to buy food for the hungry, to dress the naked and care for orphans and widows. One story claims that he would dress up in a disguise and go out into the streets and give gifts to poor children.

Nicholas was careful to remain anonymous with his charities. Usually he preferred to receive no credit for his gifts, desiring rather to make his visits to the homes of the poor and unfortunate under the cloak of darkness so that no one would know who he was. Nicholas felt that if anyone should receive the praise and glory, it should be God, and not himself.

“’But when you do a charitable deed, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, that your charitable deed may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will Himself reward you openly.’” (Matthew 6:3-4)

People considered him a Saint even during his lifetime, and invoked his aid when in torment or distress.

Sources on St. Nicholas Through the Ages

Actual biographic data on Nicholas is severely limited. Although he lived in the fourth century, the records of his life and miracles – at least those records that have remained intact – only began to accumulate from the sixth century onward. To what degree these are based on earlier writings or oral traditions is hardly ever clear. The various Vitae (life stories) of St. Nicholas borrow heavily from each other.

Historians readily admit that the seventh and eighth centuries in the East were “dark ages,” so little have they left us in the way of writings; we have nothing from them about St. Nicholas. But, on the other hand, the ninth and tenth centuries give us an abundance of documents about him. He was venerated throughout the Christian Church at that time. Calendars put his name to the sixth of December.

Many people wrote about the life of St. Nicholas throughout the ages. This appears to be the order of the main writings:

Archimandrite Michael (ninth century): His Vita Per Michaëlem is said to be the earliest of all the biographies of St. Nicholas. The author says that others have written about St. Nicholas before him, but it’s clear from his text that no complete biography existed before his time; still, at least partial accounts must, in fact, have been written. Michael also refers to an oral tradition he received from a monk. His work is punctuated by moral and theological considerations.

Methodius (ninth century): The oldest known account of the life of St. Nicholas is by Methodius, Bishop of Constantinople, 842 to 846 AD.

Simeon Logotheta Metaphrastes (tenth century): Simeon collected the lives of the Saints from oral tradition and written collections. He copied some lives as written and rewrote others. He arranged the lives in the order of the Saints’ feast days, and his work became so popular that many earlier hagiography has been lost. His Vita Per Metaphrasten was the last classical Greek text on the life of St. Nicholas. It drew upon the Vita Per Michaëlem and the Laudatioi Sancti Nicolai by Methodius. This biography was the most widely read and, in fact, became the generally accepted and, so to speak, canonical text on St. Nicholas. It was one of the chief sources for all later Western biographies.

(There are many hagiographers in the Western Christian world, but space here doesn’t allow us to list them all.)

Any given detail we are told about St. Nicholas may or may not correspond with historical reality. While we do not deny the possibility of miracles, it is up to us which of these particular miracles we accept. There is no incontestable evidence for the truth of the details of his life and miracles.