It's been about 15 years now. I don't remember exactly with interpretations, but I'll say it in context. One Sunday morning, when we were serving here in our church in the monastery, I was the abbot, and my father, Father Fronios, who is still with us, and Father Pavlos the Paristos, as well as the other fathers and deacons, were serving. We are priests, and we were serving. At the time we entered the divine service, a priest came who came from Nea Spiti. He was an archimandrite and from the Benedictine order. Let the Pope know about it. He doesn't listen to me. Let him know; let him hear it. He came to the monastery from the beginning as a pilgrim with the trova, that is, with his costume. He was a kind man, a good man, and he was not provocative, but he was a man, a good man, who entered the monastery, entered inside, and went to Archangelos. But all the fathers are at the service. He didn't see anyone. He went to the hall, took out the trovat from the trovat—how do they call this ridiculous thing?—took out the anteriand, and put on the albia that they wear, let's say, and a belt and a tent that has a cross on it, that has a cross on it, and he went down and entered the service. Inside. But he was a good man. He entered the old pew where Father Nikomos is sitting now, facing the sanctuary, and sat down. Let me tell you how long this man sat there. He entered, made the sign of the cross as they made him, and he entered and was standing inside. From the time he entered until the time
He finished, and the opposite happened. Neither to come back like this, nor to come back like this. When I went, I saw him, but there were two of my great fathers, and they told me that during the service, a Capuchin monk came in, and we took him out. What does he want in there? So at that time, I thought, did Jesus Christ take anyone out when he was talking about expelling anyone? He didn't expel anyone, whether they were Jews or friends or whatever. I said, You don't have their blessing. I said to them, Father, you don't have their blessing to even talk to him. Leave the man there because I was afraid that they might go and take him out and say something to him and insult him, and he would go to talk, and something bad would happen. I didn't want to say that. It's not honest; it's not right. Let me say it. Well, they respected me, and I did as I said. But I had been burned inside them. I was happy. But I didn't want to. I didn't care what it would change for me to tell her because she's sitting there. She's a renegade. She left him there. So the holy communion was all taken, and the fathers took communion, and I went out at the end and said goodbye to them. They call me one of those fathers. "I don't believe," says the elder, "that you should give him something against his will." I tell him, "Listen, I won't give him something against his will, but I don't believe that a paratidra will come." And just as this happened now, his attitude there, just as he was against both communion and the big entrance, the small entrance there, was unrecognizable. And when I took her and we went inside and went to the table, we made a decision, and we will put all of them, the Westerners, at the table upstairs. At the table, we eat together but separately so that we don't take it out or have it between us. And that's what we hear, and that's what we do today. So when the table was finished, when the service was over, to go to the table, a monk went to the altar, took off his hat and the rosary, the one he was wearing, took off all his clothes, and came down in his suit. He had a little black suit, but he was a good man. And before we went outside, he went across to our saint and made a vow. But inside, in the monastery's sanctuary, they had a priest who was from Mytilene. I had taken his name from him, Pavlos, whose father had three brothers. His father and his mother were in Cairo. And when Naler, the leader they had over there, drove out all the people, his father left and came to Greece. Because his father had a trade, trade, trade, trade in food, he was honored as a father, and Father Pavlos died at the age of 58, a spiritual priest, and died at the age of 50. He caught something. He caught him going to a small church, and there he was seized by a heart attack. He caught him, and he died. As soon as he got the latest news to go, there was no service. What a fool he is. So his child, Pavlosh, had been sent by his father to Italy to study, to learn electrical engineering, to become an electrician at a school in Clusino, but he had learned Italian farces as if he were Italian, and he knew rap. Let's say he knew the following: because he was an Egyptian, he spoke Greek in Greece, he learned Greek in Italy, and he was a well-educated man. And I tell him to go, and he says, "And he goes out of the house," and he says, "Please, my child." I tell him, "Go and get this man, the gentleman, to come up to the office, and you come and talk." I want to talk to him. So Ennom went; you know his nickname. He says his name; I don't remember how he says it because in 1520 he went. So when he came to go, he also brought a backpack, a sago, and a bag. He had it in his hand, and he had something inside that he wanted to give me, and he went up very happy. But when we say very much that every time we talk about him, he was a lazy person, he smiled at me, he repented, he took out repentance, he burned there, well, I tell him, between me and him, I don't know what to say, so I tell him, "Father, let's go." I want him to go to the gentleman here. I want to ask him some questions, but I want him to tell me the truth. Don't lie to me; I won't catch him lying to me. Whatever I ask him, he'll tell me the truth. And I promise, I say, I will tell him whatever he asks me; I will tell him the truth. I don't know how to lie, I think. So he conveyed it and said, Blessed is it that the elder asked me, so he can be sure that I will tell him the truth. Well, I say to him, "My good people," I say to him, "I see that you are a wise man, but you are also well. First of all, I say, I want you to tell me what you are in the church. Where do you belong? He says to me, "I am a Roman, and I belong to an order of Benedictines." I have had many orders that Saint Venerable was not even a church member. Is your order well? I say to him, "I want to ask you to tell me when you entered the church and what you gained from the church." He wanted to be wise over there, standing up straight, not touching the old man's feet, nothing. The one standing up was like he was some kind of Apollo, some criterion, and his eye was on the holy steps. What did you gain, what did you see, and what did you feel? I tell you, he says, "Drink first, drink first," he says, "I thank God." Because he thanks God because since I was a little child, I have been begging God to grant me once to be inside an Orthodox church to see how they operate. Because we have been told that the Eastern Church is a hoax. They followed, and they did not harm us, and I wanted to see how they operate, and God said so, and I was at this service today because God did not allow me to take him out where I know things breathe from God. And when did you see me asking him this question? And I saw he said, "On one side, Jesus Christ." On the right, our Lady Virgin Mary. Above the Holy Apostles and in general all the saints, Nasmos did not have a hagiography, but he said the roof of the church. And I will give us the greatest Orthodox church; I magnify it, he says, the grace, he says, the joy, he says. Because their unbelieving countries do not have honismata. They have an idol to say. An idol. Here, they have the Virgin Mary as an idol to say that it is forbidden to have children. And besides that, how do you feel about your mental state? And what did you think you were doing? Neighbor Temple says, I thought you were in heaven, and here the service was taking place. The abbot was officiating with his priests and with the deacons, and they were officiating, and as if I were in heaven, they very nicely agreed with what I said; they agreed because indeed he did. Now I ask him another question. I tell him I will ask you one question, one question he must answer me truthfully. When you go to your temple, where you enter inside and go do your service and close up how you are, he says, "I will tell you." He says, "I will tell you." He says, "We enter," he says, "inside our temple, and we enter there in the altar, where the getra is located." This table is called the altar. We call it the Holy Altar, and we go there, and it gets worse and makes me think we have the services in the center of the altar. And we make our hands like this, make our hands like this, and say, "Here we will take communion." Here is heaven, and here is hell, and we take communion and those, too. Nice, I say. Very good. And the temple all around, he says, the temple is a freezer. I say, "What do you mean, freezer?" he says What is a freezer iceberg iceberg. Nothing. The cobweb that is inside money. Nothing. Frozen. Frozen icebreaker. And I say to him, "My dear man," I say to him, "And you go inside to freeze and do what you do, what you do in the freezer; you go inside and you operate these things too. What is this?, he tells me. This is this. "Good. Okay, I say. Where is it better, 'I say here or there," he says to me, "anabovolos." Here, he says to me, "Anabovolos." I say to him to tell you something he said with love, let's say, What would you say if we made an effort between us and we made an effort to find things until our church was united, which it was until 1050, which finally fell apart? Which was united—our church was united, and now we have divided it. What would you say if we came back? That is to say, you come back to make your bodies and make us also if we have a body and unite the church, and if a marriage is broken. I say he smiled. I say to him, "Why are you smiling? Why are you smiling?" he says to me Old man, you are right and I will say Well, but if I think and tell a cardinal some, we will also tell them to discuss it with the church and come back and tell him something in the evening. In the morning, I will wake up, but my head will not have. What will happen to my child's head? "My head will be fucked up," he tells me. And there we finished the conversation, and he took out this little bag that had the little bag. He tells me, Old man, thank you very much for everything. These things cannot be changed, he says. They have been fixed, but he tells me, In this bag are three handwritten books, so big and so many handwritten books. Because the ancients had thousands, let's say tons, of books, which were all printed on machines, but there were many calligraphers, and they wrote them, he says, Saint Athanasius with a goat's head.
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