In one of the Palestinian monasteries lived an elder, adorned with piety of life and wise speech, who from his earliest youth had valiantly pursued monastic life. The elder's name was Zosima. (Let no one think that Zosima was a heretic, though they shared the same name: one earned a bad reputation and was alien to the Church, the other was righteous and glorified.) Zosima underwent all the stages of ascetic struggles and observed all the rules taught by the greatest monks. Fulfilling all this, he never ceased to learn from the divine words: lying down, rising, working, and eating (if one can call food something he ate in very small quantities), he ceaselessly and constantly performed one task—he sang divine hymns and sought instruction in divine books. While still an infant, he was sent to a monastery, where he valiantly labored in fasting until the age of 53. But then he began to be troubled by the thought that he had achieved complete perfection and no longer needed any guidance.
"Is there," he thought, "a monk on earth who can instruct me and show me an example of such fasting as I have not yet experienced? Will there be found in the desert a man who has surpassed me?"
When the elder was thinking thus, an Angel appeared to him and said:
"Zosima! You have struggled zealously, as far as humanly possible, and have valiantly completed the ascetic struggle. Yet no one can say of themselves that they have attained perfection. There are struggles unknown to you, and more difficult than those you have traversed. To discover how many other paths lead to salvation, leave your country, like that most glorious of the patriarchs, Abraham ( Genesis 12:1 ), and go to the monastery by the Jordan River."
Following this instruction, Zosima left the monastery where he had labored since infancy, went to the Jordan and reached the monastery where the voice of God had directed him.
Pushing the monastery gates open, Zosima found the monk-gatekeeper and spoke to him about himself. He informed the abbot, who ordered the elder to be summoned. Zosima approached the abbot and performed the customary monastic prostration and prayer.
“Where are you from, brother?” the abbot asked him, “and why have you come to us, poor elders?”
Zosima answered:
- Where I came from, there is no need to speak about this; I came, father, seeking my spiritual benefit, since I have heard many great and praiseworthy things about you, which can lead the soul to God.
"Brother," the abbot said to him, "only God can heal spiritual infirmities. May He guide both you and us along His paths for the benefit of the soul. One cannot correct another unless he constantly introspects and tirelessly, with God's help, performs ascetic labors. But since the love of Christ has prompted you to visit us, poor elders, then remain with us, if this is why you came. May the Good Shepherd, who gave His life for our salvation, send down upon us all the grace of the Holy Spirit.
After these words, Zosima bowed to the abbot, asked for his prayers and blessing, and remained at the monastery. There he saw elders shining with good deeds and piety, serving the Lord with ardent hearts through unceasing singing, all-night prayer, and constant labor. Psalms were always on their lips, an idle word was never heard, they knew nothing of the acquisition of temporal goods or the cares of life. They had one constant striving—to mortify the flesh. Their main and constant food was the word of God, and they nourished their bodies with bread and water, as much as their love for God permitted. Seeing this, Zosima studied and prepared for the struggle ahead.
Much time passed, the days of Great Lent arrived, and the monastery gates were locked, opening only when someone was sent on monastery business. The area was deserted; laypeople not only didn't come, but didn't even know about this monastery.
There was a custom at that monastery, for which God brought Zosima there. During the first week of Great Lent, everyone partook of the Most Pure Body and Blood of the Lord during the Liturgy and partook of a small Lenten meal. Then everyone gathered in the church, and after fervent, kneeling prayer, the elders bid each other farewell. Each one, with a bow, asked the abbot's blessing for the journey ahead. After this, the monastery gates were opened, and, singing the psalm, "The Lord is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?" ( Psalm 27:1 ), the monks went out into the desert and crossed the Jordan River. Only one or two elders remained in the monastery, not to guard the property—there was nothing to steal there—but so as not to leave the church without services. Each took with him a little food, as much as he could and wanted according to his bodily needs: one a little bread, another - figs, someone - dates or wheat soaked in water. Some did not take anything with them except the rags on their bodies, and ate, when hunger forced them to do so, the herbs growing in the desert.
Having crossed the Jordan, everyone dispersed in different directions, unaware of each other's fasting and ascetic practices. If anyone saw another approaching, they would turn away and continue their life alone, in constant prayer, partaking of very little food at designated times. Thus, the monks spent the entire Great Lent and returned to the monastery a week before the Resurrection of Christ, when the Church solemnly celebrates Palm Sunday. Upon arriving at the monastery, none of the brethren asked each other how they had spent their time in the desert or what they had done, having only their conscience as witness. Such was the monastic rule of the Jordan Monastery.
Zosima, according to the custom of that monastery, also crossed the Jordan, taking with him, due to his physical weakness, a little food and the clothing he usually wore. Wandering through the desert, he performed his prayerful labor and abstained from food whenever possible. He slept little; wherever night overtook him, he would take a short nap sitting on the ground, then awaken early in the morning and continue his labor. He increasingly desired to go deeper into the desert and there find one of the ascetics who could guide him.
After twenty days of travel, he paused one day and, facing east, began to chant the sixth hour , performing the usual prayers. During his ascetic struggle, he paused, chanted every hour, and prayed. While he chanted, he saw on his right side what appeared to be the shadow of a human body. Frightened and thinking it a demonic delusion, he began to cross himself. When the fear passed and the prayer was finished, he turned to the south and saw a naked man, scorched black by the sun, with hair as white as wool, reaching only to his neck. Zosima ran in that direction with great joy: in recent days, he had not seen not only a man but even an animal. When the man saw Zosima approaching him from afar, he quickly fled into the depths of the desert. But Zosima seemed to forget both his old age and the fatigue of the journey and rushed to catch up with the fugitive. He quickly retreated, but Zosima ran faster, and when he caught up with him so that they could hear each other, he cried out with tears:
"Why are you, servant of the True God, for Whose sake you settled in the desert, fleeing from me, a sinful old man? Wait for me, unworthy and feeble, in the hope of reward for your deed! Stop, pray for me, and for the sake of the Lord God, Who disdains no one, grant me a blessing."
Thus cried Zosima with tears. Meanwhile, they reached a hollow, like the bed of a dried-up river. The fugitive rushed to the other side, and Zosima, exhausted and unable to run any further, intensified his tearful pleas and stopped. Then the one fleeing from Zosima finally stopped and said:
– Abba 2337 Zosima! Forgive me for God's sake that I cannot appear before you: I am a woman, as you see, naked, my nakedness uncovered. But if you wish to impart your prayer and blessing to me, a sinner, then throw me something of your clothing to cover myself with, and then I will turn to you for prayer.
Fear and horror seized Zosima when he heard his name from the lips of someone who had never seen him or heard anything about him.
“If she hadn’t been perceptive,” he thought, “she wouldn’t have called me by name.”
He quickly fulfilled her wish, stripped off his tattered, torn garments, turned away, and tossed them to her. Taking the garments, she girded herself and covered her nakedness as best she could. Then she addressed Zosima with these words:
"Why, Abba Zosima, did you wish to see me, a sinful woman? Do you wish to hear or learn something from me, and that's why you didn't hesitate to take this difficult path?"
But Zosima threw himself to the ground and asked her blessing. She also bowed to the ground, and so they lay, asking each other's blessing; only one word was heard: "Bless!" After a long time, she said to the elder:
"Abba Zosima! You must bless and say a prayer, for you are vested with the rank of priest and have stood before the holy altar for many years, performing the Divine Mysteries."
These words plunged the old man into even greater fear. Shedding tears, he said to her, barely catching his breath from trembling:
"O spiritual mother! You have drawn closer to God by mortifying your bodily infirmities. God's gift manifests itself in you more than in others: you have never seen me, yet you call me by name and know my rank as a priest. Therefore, it would be better for you to bless me for God's sake and offer me your holy prayer."
Touched by the elder’s persistence, she blessed him with these words:
– Blessed be God, who desires the salvation of human souls!
Zosima answered "amen," and both rose from the ground. Then she asked the elder:
"Man of God! Why did you wish to visit me naked, unadorned by any virtues? But the grace of the Holy Spirit led you, so that, when necessary, you could inform me of earthly life. Tell me, Father, how do Christians, the Tsar, and the holy churches live now?"
“Through your holy prayers,” answered Zosima, “God has granted the Church lasting peace . 2338 But bow to the prayers of an unworthy elder and pray to the Lord for the whole world and for me, a sinner, so that my wanderings in the desert will not be fruitless.”
"It behooves you, Abba Zosima," she said, "as one of holy rank, to pray for me and for everyone; for this is what you are destined for. But out of duty and obedience, I will fulfill your will."
With these words, she turned to the east; raising her eyes and hands, she began to pray, but so quietly that Zosima neither heard nor understood the words of the prayer. He stood trembling, silent, his head bowed.
"I call upon God to witness," he said, "that after a while I raised my eyes and saw her raised a cubit from the ground; there she stood in the air and prayed." Seeing this, Zosima trembled with fear, fell to the ground in tears, and only said:
- Lord, have mercy!
But then he was troubled by the thought that this might be a spirit or a ghost, as if praying to God. But the saint, lifting the elder from the ground, said:
"Why, Zosima, does the thought of a ghost disturb you? Why do you think I am a spirit praying? I beg you, blessed father, be assured that I am a sinful woman, cleansed only by holy baptism. No, I am not a spirit, but earth, dust, and ashes; I am flesh, not thinking of being spirit."
With these words she crossed herself over her forehead, eyes, lips, chest and continued:
– May God deliver us from the evil one and from his snares, for his battle against us is great.
Hearing these words, the elder fell at her feet and cried out with tears:
"In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, the true God, born of the Virgin, for Whose sake you, naked, have so mortified your flesh, I adjure you: do not hide from me, but tell me everything about your life, and I will glorify the greatness of God. For God's sake, tell me everything not for boasting, but to instruct me, a sinner and unworthy one. I believe in my God, for Whom you live, that I have journeyed to this desert precisely so that God might glorify your deeds: we are powerless to resist God's ways. If God had not willed that you and your deeds be known, He would not have revealed you to me and would not have strengthened me for such a long journey through the desert."
Zosima tried to persuade her with other words, and she, raising him up, said:
"Forgive me, Holy Father, I am ashamed to speak of my shameful life. But you have seen my naked body, so I will lay bare my soul, and you will know how much shame and disgrace there is. I will reveal myself to you without boasting, as you said: what should I, a chosen vessel of the devil, boast about? But if I begin to tell the story of my life, you will flee from me as from a snake; your ears will not bear the tale of my debauchery. However, I will tell you without concealing anything; only I ask that when you learn of my life, do not forget to pray for me, that I may receive some mercy on the Day of Judgment."
The elder, with uncontrollable tears, asked her to tell him about her life, and she began to tell him about herself:
"I, holy father, was born in Egypt, but at the age of twelve, while my parents were still alive, I rejected their love and went to Alexandria . How I lost my virginal purity and began to indulge in uncontrollably, insatiably fornication—I cannot even think about this without shame, let alone tell at length; I will only tell you briefly, so that you will know about my uncontrollable lust. For seventeen years, and even more, I committed fornication with everyone, not for a gift or payment, since I did not want to take anything from anyone, but I reasoned that more people would come to me for free and satisfy my lust. Don't think that I was rich and therefore didn't take anything—no, I lived in poverty, often spinning grain while hungry, but I was always obsessed with the desire to sink deeper into the mire of fornication: I saw life as a constant state of dishonor. One day, during harvest time, I saw many men—both Egyptians and Libyans — going to the sea. I asked someone I met where these people were rushing to. He replied that they were going to Jerusalem for the soon-to-be-coming Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy and Life-Giving Cross. When I asked if they would take me with them, he said that if I had money and food, no one would hinder me. I told him, "No, brother, I have neither money nor food, but I will still go and board the same ship with them, and they will feed me: I will give them my body for payment." "I wanted to go so that—forgive me, my father—there would be many people around me, ready for lust. I told you, Father Zosima, not to force me to tell of my shame. God is my witness, I fear that with my words I pollute the very air."
Watering the earth with tears, Zosima exclaimed:
– Speak, my mother, speak! Continue your instructive tale!
"The young man I met," she continued, "heard my shameless speech, laughed and walked away. And I, throwing down the spindle whorl that had happened to be with me, hurried to the sea. Looking around at the travelers, I noticed ten or more people standing on the shore; they were young and seemed to suit my desires. Others had already boarded the ship.
Shamelessly, as usual, I ran up to those standing by and said, "Take me with you, I will please you." They laughed at these and similar words, and seeing my shamelessness, they took me aboard the ship, and we set sail. How can I tell you, man of God, what happened next? What tongue, what ear could bear the tale of the shameful deeds I committed on the ship during the voyage? I lured people into sin even against their will, and there was no shameful deed I did not teach. Believe me, Father, I am horrified that the sea tolerated such depravity, that the earth did not open up and plunge me alive into hell after seducing so many people! But I believe that God awaited my repentance, not desiring the death of a sinner, but patiently awaiting my conversion.
With such feelings, I arrived in Jerusalem and continued to behave as before, and even worse, in the days leading up to the feast. Not only was I not content with the young men who were with me on the ship, but I also gathered local residents and travelers for prostitution. Finally, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross arrived, and as before, I went to seduce the young men. Seeing that early in the morning everyone, one after another, was heading to church, I went too, entered the narthex with everyone, and when the hour of the Holy Exaltation of the Holy Cross of the Lord arrived, I tried to enter the church with the people. No matter how hard I tried to squeeze through, the people pushed me back. Finally, with great difficulty, I, the wretched one, approached the church doors. But everyone entered the church unhindered, but some divine power prevented me from entering. I tried again to enter, and again I was pushed back, remaining alone in the narthex. Thinking that this was due to my feminine weakness, I mingled with the new crowd, but my efforts proved futile. My sinful foot had already touched the threshold; the church welcomed everyone without hindrance, but only I, the wretched one, was barred. As if deliberately posted, numerous, military guards, some unknown force were holding me back—and so I found myself back in the narthex. Three or four times I strained my strength, but to no avail. Exhausted, I could no longer mingle with the crowd of those entering; my whole body ached from the crush and pressure. In despair, I retreated in shame and stood in a corner of the narthex. Coming to my senses, I wondered what guilt was preventing me from seeing the Life-giving Wood of the Cross of the Lord. The light of saving reason, the truth of God, illuminating the eyes of the soul, touched my heart and revealed that the abomination of my deeds forbade me from entering the church. Then I began to cry bitterly, beat myself in the chest with sobs and sigh from the depths of my heart.
So I wept, standing in the narthex. Looking up, I saw an icon of the Most Holy Theotokos on the wall, and turning my physical and spiritual eyes to it, I cried out:
O Lady, Virgin, who gave birth to God in the flesh! I know, I know deeply, that there is no honor or praise to You when I, impure and defiled, gaze upon Your face of the Ever-Virgin, pure in body and soul. It is right that Your virginal purity should be disdained and hate me, a harlot. But I have heard that the God born of You became incarnate to call sinners to repentance. Come to my aid, abandoned by all! Command that I be not barred from entering the church; grant me to behold the Honorable Tree, on which He born of You was crucified in the flesh, shedding His holy blood for the deliverance of sinners and for me. Command, Lady, that the doors of the church be opened for me, unworthy as I am, to venerate the Divine Cross! Be my faithful guarantor before Your Son, that I will no longer defile my body with the impurity of fornication, but, looking at the Tree of the Cross, I will renounce the world and its temptations and go where You, the guarantor of my salvation, lead me.
So I said. Emboldened by faith and convinced of the mercy of the Mother of God, I, as if prompted by someone, moved from the place where I had been praying and mingled with the crowd entering the church. Now no one pushed me away or hindered me as I reached the church doors. Fear and terror fell upon me, and I trembled all over. Reaching the doors previously closed to me, I entered the holy church without difficulty and was granted to behold the Life-Giving Tree. I comprehended the mysteries of God, and understood that God will not reject the repentant. Falling to the ground, I bowed before the Precious Cross and kissed it with trembling. Then I left the church to the image of my intercessor, the Mother of God, and, kneeling before Her holy icon, I prayed thus:
"O Ever-Blessed Virgin, Lady Theotokos, without disdaining my prayer, You have shown in me Your great love for mankind. I have seen the glory of the Lord, a prodigal and unworthy one! Glory to God, who for Your sake accepts the repentance of sinners! This is all I, a sinner, can think and say. Now, Lady, it is time to fulfill what I promised, calling upon You as my surety: guide me as to Your will, and teach me how to complete my salvation on the path of repentance."
After these words I heard, as if from afar, a voice:
If you cross the Jordan, you will find complete peace.
Having heard these words with the faith that they were addressed to me, I cried out with tears, looking at the icon 2343 of the Mother of God:
- Lady, Lady Theotokos, do not leave me!
With these words, I left the church narthex and quickly walked forward. On the way, someone gave me three coins and said:
- Take this, mother.
I accepted the coins, bought three loaves of bread, and asked the vendor the way to the Jordan. Having learned which gate led that way, I set off quickly, shedding tears. Thus I spent the entire day on the road, asking directions from those I met, and by the third hour of the day, when I was privileged to behold the Holy Cross of Christ, already at sunset, I reached the Church of St. John the Baptist by the Jordan River. After praying in the church, I went down to the Jordan and washed my hands and face in the waters of this holy river. Returning to the church, I received the Most Pure and Life-Giving Mysteries of Christ. Then I ate half a loaf of bread, drank water from the Jordan, and fell asleep on the ground. Early in the morning, having found a small boat, I crossed to the other bank and again turned to my guide, the Mother of God, with a prayer asking how it would please her to instruct me. So I withdrew into the desert, where I wander to this day, awaiting the salvation that God will give me from my spiritual and physical suffering.”
Zosima asked:
- How many years, madam, have passed since you settled in this desert?
“I think,” she answered, “47 years have passed since I left the holy city.
“What then,” asked Zosima, “do you find for your food?”
“After crossing the Jordan,” said the saint, “I had two and a half loaves of bread; they gradually dried out, as if they had turned to stone, and I ate them little by little over several years.
- How could you live happily for so long, and no temptation could disturb you?
“I am afraid to answer your question, Father Zosima: when I remember the troubles I suffered from the thoughts that tormented me, I am afraid that they will take hold of me again.
“It’s okay, madam,” said Zosima, “don’t omit anything in your story. That’s why I asked you, so that I could know all the details of your life.”
Then she said:
"Believe me, Father Zosima, I lived seventeen years in this desert, struggling with my wild passions as if they were ferocious beasts. When I ate, I longed for the meat and wine I had eaten in Egypt; I longed for my favorite wine. In the world, I drank a lot of wine, but here I had no water; I was tormented by thirst and suffered terribly. Sometimes I was overcome by a deeply disturbing desire to sing the lustful songs to which I had become accustomed. Then I would shed tears, beat my breast, and recall the vows I had made when I withdrew into the desert. Then I would mentally stand before the icon of my guarantor, the Most Pure Theotokos, and with tears I begged her to drive away the thoughts that troubled my soul. I wept for a long time, beating my breast hard, and finally, as if a light spread around me, I was calmed from my worries. How can I confess, Father, to the lustful desires that overwhelmed me? Forgive me, Father. The fire of passion blazed within me and scorched me, compelling me to lust. Whenever such temptation came upon me, I would throw myself to the ground and weep, imagining that my guarantor herself stood before me, condemning my crime and threatening me with severe torment for it. Thrown to the ground, I did not rise day or night until that light illuminated me and drove away the thoughts that troubled me. Then I would raise my eyes to my guarantor, fervently imploring her to help me with my sufferings in the desert—and indeed, she gave me help and guidance in repentance. Thus I spent seventeen years in constant torment. And afterward, and to this day, the Mother of God has been my helper and guide in everything.
Then Zosima asked:
– Didn’t you need food and clothing?
The saint answered:
– Having finished the bread, after seventeen years, I ate plants; the clothes I had on when I crossed the Jordan had decayed from wear, and I suffered greatly, exhausted by the heat in summer, shivering from the cold in winter; so that many times I fell to the ground as if lifeless and lay there for a long time, enduring numerous physical and mental afflictions. But from that time until today, the power of God has transformed my sinful soul and my humble body in everything, and I only recall my former deprivations, finding inexhaustible nourishment for myself in the hope of salvation: I am nourished and covered with the all-powerful word of God, for those who have no shelter are clothed in stones, since they have cast off the garment of sin (cf. Slav. Job 24:8 ; Heb. 11:38 ).
Hearing that the saint was recalling the words of Holy Scripture from Moses, the prophets and the Psalter, Zosima asked if she had studied the psalms and other books.
"Don't think," she replied with a smile, "that since my crossing of the Jordan I've seen any human being other than you: I haven't even seen a single beast or animal. And I've never learned from books, never heard anyone read or sing, but the word of God always and everywhere enlightens the mind and penetrates even to me, unknown to the world. But I conjure you by the incarnation of the Word of God: pray for me, a harlot."
So she said. The elder fell at her feet with tears and exclaimed:
"Blessed is God, Who does great and terrible, wondrous and glorious deeds, which are countless! Blessed is God, Who has shown me how He rewards those who fear Him! Truly, O Lord, You do not abandon those who seek You!"
The saint did not allow the elder to bow to her and said:
"I conjure you, holy father, by Jesus Christ, God our Savior, tell no one what you have heard from me until God takes me from this earth. Now go in peace; you will see me again in a year, if God's grace preserves us. But do for God's sake what I ask of you: do not cross the Jordan during Lent next year, as you are accustomed to do in the monastery."
Zosima was amazed that she was talking about the monastic rules, and he could not say anything other than:
– Glory to God, who rewards those who love Him!
"So you, Holy Father," she continued, "remain in the monastery, as I tell you, for it will be impossible for you to leave even if you wish. On Holy and Great Thursday, the day of Christ's Last Supper, take the holy vessel of the life-giving Body and Blood, bring it to the secular village on the other side of the Jordan, and wait for me so that I may partake of the Life-giving Gifts. For from the time I received Communion before crossing the Jordan in the Church of John the Baptist until this day, I have not partaken of the Holy Gifts. Now I strive for this with all my heart, and do not abandon my prayer, but be sure to bring me the Life-giving and Divine Mysteries at that hour when the Lord made His disciples partakers of His Divine Supper." Tell John, the abbot of the monastery where you live: look after yourself and your brethren, you need to improve in many ways, but say this not now, but when God guides you.
After these words, she again asked the elder to pray for her and withdrew into the depths of the desert. Zosima, bowing to the ground and kissing the spot where her feet had stood in honor of God, set out on his return journey, praising and blessing Christ our God.
Having traversed the desert, he reached the monastery on the day when the brothers who lived there usually returned. He kept silent about what he had seen, not daring to tell, but in his soul he prayed to God to grant him another chance to see the dear face of the ascetic. He thought with sorrow how long a year dragged on, and wished that time would fly by like a single day.
When the first week of Great Lent arrived, all the brethren, according to custom and the monastic rule, prayed and sang, and then went out into the desert. Only Zosima, suffering from a serious illness, was forced to remain in the monastery. Then he remembered the saint's words: "It will be impossible for you to leave, even if you wished!" Having quickly recovered from his illness, Zosima remained at the monastery. When the brethren returned and the day of the Last Supper approached, the elder did everything he was instructed to do: he placed the Most Pure Body and Blood of Christ our God in a small chalice. Then, taking a few dried figs and dates and some wheat soaked in water in a basket, he left the monastery late in the evening and sat on the banks of the Jordan, awaiting the arrival of the saint. The saint did not appear for a long time, but Zosima, without closing his eyes, tirelessly gazed toward the desert, expecting to see what he so deeply desired. "Perhaps," thought the elder, "I am unworthy of her coming to me, or perhaps she has already come before and, not finding me, returned." These thoughts brought tears to his eyes, he sighed, and, raising his eyes to heaven, he began to pray: "Do not deprive me, O Master, of the sight again of that face which you have granted me to see! Do not let me leave here unrelieved, under the burden of the sins that accuse me!"
Then another thought occurred to him: "If she does reach the Jordan, and there is no boat, how will she cross and come to me, the unworthy one? Woe to me, a sinner, alas! Who has deprived me of the happiness of seeing her?"
So thought the elder, but the saint had already approached the river. Seeing her, Zosima rose joyfully and gave thanks to God. He was still tormented by the thought that she could not cross the Jordan when he saw the saint, illuminated by the moonlight, make the sign of the cross over the river, descend from the bank onto the water, and walk toward him across the water as if it were solid ground. Seeing this, Zosima, astonished, wanted to bow to her, but the saint, still walking on the water, resisted, exclaiming, "What are you doing? You are a priest and bearer of the Divine Mysteries!"
The elder heeded her words, and the saint, coming ashore, asked his blessing. Overwhelmed with horror by the wondrous vision, he exclaimed: "Truly, God fulfills His promise to make those who are saved like Himself according to their strength! Glory to Thee, Christ our God, who has shown me through His servant how far I still am from perfection!"
Then the saint asked for the Creed and the Lord's Prayer to be read. After the prayer, she received the Most Pure and Life-giving Mysteries of Christ and, according to monastic custom, kissed the elder. Afterward, she sighed and tearfully exclaimed:
– Now lettest thou thy servant depart, O Master, according to thy word, in peace, for my eyes have seen thy salvation ( Luke 2:29–30 ).
Then, turning to Zosima, the saint said:
“I beg you, Father, do not refuse to fulfill one more of my wishes: now go to your monastery, and next year come to the same stream where you talked with me before; come for God’s sake, and you will see me again: this is what God wants.”
"If it were possible," the holy elder answered her, "I would always want to follow you and see your bright face. But I beg you, fulfill my, the elder's, wish: taste a little of the food I have brought."
Then he showed her what he had brought in the basket. The saint touched the wheat with her fingertips, took three grains, and, raising them to her lips, said:
"That is enough: the grace of spiritual food, which preserves the soul undefiled, will satisfy me. Again I ask you, holy father, to pray to the Lord for me, remembering my wretchedness."
The elder bowed to the ground before her and asked her prayers for the church, for the kings, and for himself. After this tearful request, he bid her farewell with sobs, not daring to detain her any longer. Even if he had wanted to, he had no power to stop her. The saint again made the sign of the cross over the Jordan and, as before, crossed the river as if on dry land. The elder returned to the monastery, agitated by both joy and fear; he reproached himself for not having learned the saint's name, but he hoped to learn it next year.
Another year passed. Zosima again went into the desert, fulfilling monastic custom, and headed for the place where he had had the wondrous vision. He traversed the entire desert, recognized the place by certain signs, and began to carefully scrutinize it, like an experienced hunter seeking rich prey. However, he saw no one approaching. Shedding tears, he raised his eyes to heaven and began to pray: "Lord, show me Your treasure, unstolen by anyone, hidden by You in the desert. Show me the holy righteous one, this angel in the flesh, with whom the whole world is unworthy to compare!"
While uttering this prayer, the elder reached a place where a stream flowed and, standing on the bank, saw the saint lying dead to the east; her hands were folded, as befits those lying in a coffin, her face turned to the east. He quickly approached her and, falling at her feet, reverently kissed them and moistened them with his tears. He wept for a long time; then, having read the psalms and prayers prescribed for burial, he began to consider whether it was possible to bury the saint's body, whether it would be pleasing to her. Then he saw this inscription written on the ground at the blessed one's head: "Bury, Abba Zosima, in this place the body of the humble Mary; give dust to dust." Pray to God for me, who died in the month of Pharmuthia in Egyptian, April in Roman, on the first day, on the night of the saving Passion of Christ, after receiving the Divine Mysteries 2344. "
After reading the inscription, the elder's first thought was who could have written it: the saint, as she herself said, could not write. But he was overjoyed to learn the saint's name. Moreover, he learned that the saint, having received Holy Communion on the banks of the Jordan, had reached the place of her death in a single hour, where he had arrived after twenty days of arduous travel, and had immediately given up her soul to God.
“Now,” thought Zosima, “I must fulfill the saint’s command, but how can I, a wretched man, dig a hole without any tool in my hands?”
Then he saw a tree branch abandoned in the desert near him. He picked it up and began digging. However, the dry earth resisted his efforts; he was drenched in sweat, but could do nothing. He sighed bitterly from the depths of his soul. Suddenly, looking up, he saw a huge lion standing by the saint's body, licking her feet. The elder was horrified at the sight of the beast, especially since he remembered the saint's words that she had never seen animals. He crossed himself, confident that the power of the deceased saint would protect him. The lion began to quietly approach the elder, looking at him tenderly, as if with love. Then Zosima said to the beast: "The great ascetic commanded me to bury her body, but I am old and cannot dig a grave. I have no digging tool, and the monastery is far away; I cannot quickly bring it back from there. “Dig a grave with your claws, and I will bury the body of the saint.”
The lion seemed to understand these words and dug a hole with his front paws, large enough for burial. The elder again wet the saint's feet with his tears, asking her prayers for the whole world, and covered her body with earth. The saint was almost naked—the old, tattered clothing Zosima had thrown her at their first meeting barely covered her body. Then both departed: the lion, quiet as a lamb, into the depths of the desert, and Zosima to his monastery, blessing and glorifying Christ our God.
Arriving at the monastery, he, without concealing anything he had seen and heard, told all the monks about Saint Mary. Everyone marveled at the greatness of God and resolved to honor the saint's memory with fear, faith, and love and to celebrate the day of her repose.
Abbot John, as Saint Mary had already told Abba Zosimas, discovered some irregularities in the monastery and corrected them with God's help. Saint Zosimas, after a long life of nearly a hundred years, ended his earthly existence and passed on to eternal life, to God . The monks of that monastery orally passed on his account of Saint Mary for general instruction, but they did not set forth the saint's exploits in writing.
"And I," adds Saint Sophronius, "having heard the story, wrote it down. I don't know, perhaps someone else, better informed, has already written the life of the saint, but I, as best I could, wrote it all down, setting forth the one truth. May God, who works wondrous miracles and generously bestows upon those who turn to Him with faith, reward those who seek guidance in this story, who listen, read, and have taken the trouble to write it down, and may He grant them the same fate as Blessed Mary, along with all who have ever pleased God with their pious thoughts and labors."
Let us also give glory to God, the Eternal King, and may He grant us His mercy on the Day of Judgment for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom belongs all glory, honor, dominion, and worship, with the Father and the Most Holy and Life-giving Spirit, now and ever, and to all ages. Amen
Source: https://azbyka.ru/otechnik/Dmitrij_Rostovskij/zhitija-svjatykh/297