This heavenly man, this earthly angel, this man worthy of immortal praise, was brought into mortal life by the great city of Trebizond, Constantinople nurtured him in learning, and within it, Ceminus and Athos offered sacrifice to God. His parents were renowned for their nobility and wealth, and were known to all for their rank and piety. His father hailed from great Antioch, and his mother from Colchis; they only resided in Trebizond. His father died before the saint's birth, and his mother, having given birth to him and baptized him, barely managed to nurse him before following her husband from temporal life to eternal life. This infant, orphaned while still in swaddling clothes, was given the name Abraham at the holy font. However, having lost his earthly parents, he was not left without the care and providence of the Heavenly Father of orphans. The Lord, by His all-powerful command, moved to compassion the heart of a certain nun—a noble and wealthy maiden, a friend and acquaintance of Abraham's mother. She took him in and began to care for him as if he were her own child. From his earliest years, Abraham showed signs of what he would become. Modesty in all his behavior, decorum, intelligence, a wisdom far beyond his years, and great abstinence were the distinguishing characteristics of his childhood. When he played with other children, their games prophesied his future: gathering in a cave, they chose him not as a king or a military commander, but as an abbot, and submitted to him. This was later fulfilled—and many of those children, as they grew older, became monks themselves. Seeing that the nun, his tutor, constantly practiced prayer and observed frequent fasts, Abraham marveled at her and asked her the reason for her behavior. She, noticing in him a receptiveness to good instruction, zealously and in every way strove to sow as many seeds of piety as possible on this fertile and fruitful soil. And her holy efforts were not in vain. Abraham listened with spiritual joy to his tutor's instructions, and from that time on, abandoning childish games, he began to instill in his heart the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom, and with fear, the love of God. As his childish powers developed, strengthened by the grace of the Holy Spirit, he began to practice the feats of virtue. Abraham's tutor, while nourishing his heart with pious instruction, did not neglect the education of his mind. She devoted the boy to book learning. Endowed with naturally blessed mental abilities, he understood the lesson so easily that he was a marvel to both the teacher and his companions.
But when Abraham was seven years old, he was again orphaned: his spiritual mother, a nun, departed from this vale of our temporary life for the heavenly homeland. After this, he conceived a strong desire to go to Byzantium to devote himself there to the higher studies. The Lord, Who cares for orphans and discerns the direction of our desires, looked upon the purity of his heart's desire and therefore wisely arranged matters according to his heart's desire. By God's arrangement, Abraham was befriended by a eunuch of the then Emperor of Greece, Romanos the Elder, who was then a customs official in Trebizond. Seeing the youth's chastity and intelligence, he fell in love with him, took him with him to the capital, and there entrusted him to the training of a renowned tutor named Athanasius. Studying under Athanasius, young Abraham, blessed with a fortunate intellectual capacity, quickly advanced in his education and in a short time already possessed extensive knowledge in all areas of the sciences taught to him. But despite his diligence in educating his mind, Abraham did not neglect his moral education. As much as he nourished his mind with philosophical lessons, he mortified his flesh with a strict life and abstinence—and soon he became almost as good as Athanasius had been.
At that time, there was a military commander in Byzantium named Zephinazer. He married his son to a relative of Abraham's, who advised her husband to take the young man into their household. The nobleman's son immediately agreed to his young wife's proposal. But Abraham did not immediately decide to fulfill his relative's wishes. Only after the young couple's repeated requests did he appear at their home. And even when he did, he did not wish to share their table, for he wished to conceal the abstinent life he had learned almost from infancy. Therefore, two servants were assigned to him, who provided him with everything he needed from the masters. But blessed Abraham, unwilling to indulge his tastes with the lavish dishes of the nobles, persuaded the servants to sell those foods and buy only barley bread for him. He ate barley bread every other day, along with raw herbs, and his only drink was water; rarely, for the meager consolation of his nature, did he partake of some fruits. To mortify his flesh in this way, he never overindulged and considered abstinence to be true nourishment, finding inexpressible pleasure in frequent and lengthy fasts. He was no more indulgent toward himself in regard to sleep, considering wakefulness to be true life. To combat sleep, he filled a basin with water, added snow (if any) to it, and, when drowsiness overcame him, washed his face with this cold water. The little sleep permitted by nature's necessary demands he took, resting not on a bed, but sitting in a chair. Although he was such a merciless enemy of his flesh, Abraham was, on the contrary, unusually merciful and compassionate toward his poor brethren, placing everything he received from relatives and friends in the hands of the poor and needy. If he had nothing to give them, he would remove his undergarment and donate it to alms, remaining in his outer garments only to cover his body. The servants, seeing this, reported to their mistress, and she sent him new clothing, but he treated these as well, considering the nakedness of his body a royal garment, and the cold a pleasant warmth. Thus, sovereignly subordinating his flesh and soul to the lessons of wisdom and being enlightened by them, he proved himself a true monk even before assuming the monastic habit, and a perfect pastor even before attaining pastoral perfection. For his wondrous life, his sweet and consoling conversations, and his wealth of wisdom, he enjoyed the love and respect of all. Therefore, Abraham's very companions, harboring genuine affection for him, desired to see and have him as their mentor and petitioned the king for this. The king, having personally learned of Abraham's exalted life and profound wisdom, gladly agreed to fulfill their request and made him equal to his teacher, Athanasius, in the position of mentor. But Abraham did not hold the chair of mentorship for long. Since his teachings became more renowned than those of Athanasius, his mentor, and as a result, more students flocked to him than to the latter,Then Athanasius, in his human weakness, began to envy his former student Abraham and even hate him. Upon learning of this and unwilling to stumbling block his mentor, Abraham resigned his position as a teacher and spent his private life in the commander's house, practicing his usual virtues. Soon, the commander, by order of the king, was required to travel to the islands of the Aegean Sea to fulfill certain state needs. Having harbored great affection for Abraham, he took him along. When they visited Avida and were on the island of Lemnos, Abraham saw Mount Athos from there—he fell in love with it and intended to settle there. Having fulfilled the king's mission, they returned to the capital.
The earthly king, the autocrat, arranged for Abraham to be mentored in his capital, but God Almighty had other plans for His disciple.
In those days, by God's providence, the most holy Michael Maleinos, the renowned abbot of the Kimina Monastery in Asia Minor, arrived in Byzantium. Hearing of his virtues (for he was renowned and well-known), Abraham appeared to him and, recounting his entire life in detail, revealed his long-held, strong, and constant desire to become a monk. The divine elder immediately foresaw that he was predestined to be a vessel of the Holy Spirit. During their spiritual conversation, by God's providence, his nephew, the renowned Nicephorus, who was then the military commander of the entire East and later became the autocrat of Greece, came to visit the holy elder. Nicephorus possessed a very penetrating gaze: having observed Abraham's stature, character, and behavior, he recognized in him a wondrous man. When Abraham left the elder, Nicephorus asked his uncle who he was and why he had come. The saint told him everything, and from that time on, the commander remembered him until his death. As soon as Saint Maleinos returned to Kiminus, Abraham immediately appeared before him, burning with the desire to become a monk. Falling at the saint's feet, he earnestly and humbly asked him for holy monastic attire. The elder, knowing his past and foreseeing his future, did not hesitate to fulfill his request and immediately, without the usual temptation, honored him with the angelic image, renaming him from Abraham Athanasius. He even clothed him in a hair shirt, something not customary there, and thus armed him, as it were, with armor against all the enemies of our salvation. Having become Athanasius, Abraham, in his zeal for the ascetic life, wanted to eat only once a week. But the elder, to curtail his will, ordered him to eat once every three days and to sleep on a mat, not on a chair, as he had previously done. Knowing the true value of obedience, Athanasius unquestioningly carried out all orders—not only from the abbot but also from other monastery officials. In the time remaining between his monastic obediences, he, at the elder's behest, occupied himself with calligraphy. Seeing his humility, all the Kimino brethren called him the son of obedience, loved him, and marveled at him.
At the age of four, this new and praiseworthy ascetic, through frequent fasts, vigils, genuflections, all-night vigils, and other daytime and nightly labors, ascended to the pinnacle of ascetic life. Therefore, the holy elder, recognizing him as prepared and capable of divine contemplation, permitted him to enter the field of silence and, for this purpose, designated for him a solitary spot a mile from the Lavra. In this silence, the elder commanded him to eat bread—and dry bread—not every three but two days, and a little water. During Lent, he commanded him to eat every five days, to sleep on a seat, as before, and on all Sundays and Lord's feasts to vigil in prayer and praise from evening until the third hour of the day. The blessed son of obedience faithfully fulfilled the will of his spiritual father.
The aforementioned commander of the East, Nicephorus, once came to Kimen to visit his uncle, as he often did. While conversing with him, the nobleman asked him about the youth Abraham, whom he had seen with him in Constantinople. The saint told him that this youth, formerly Abraham, had already been renamed Athanasius, and recounted in detail his wondrous exploits. At that time, Nicephorus' brother, Leo Patricius, Domestic of the West, also happened to be there. The nobles were eager to see Athanasius. Satisfying his nephews' desire, the saint agreed to show them his rare treasure—the wondrous Athanasius—and all three of them went to him in solitude. Listening to his wise and pleasant conversations, the nobles were so consoled, so rejoiced in their souls, and so attached to him with love that they hardly parted from him. This love subsequently became the source of their sincere affection, respect, and even reverence. Upon returning to the monastery, Nicephorus and Leo, deeply moved by their meeting with Athanasius and struck by the wisdom of his spiritual conversations, said to their uncle: "You have truly been enriched with a great treasure; we thank you very much for showing it to us." The elder, seeing his nephews' affection for Athanasius, summoned him and, entrusting their souls and bodies to him, commanded them to henceforth turn to him as their spiritual father and to obey him in everything. The nephews wholeheartedly thanked their uncle for this arrangement of their spiritual relationship and for his care for them. After this, the nobles again conversed with Athanasius and never ceased to be amazed by his wisdom. The elder himself marveled at the grace that flowed from the lips of his spiritual son. Meanwhile, Nicephorus privately declared to Athanasius his God-pleasing intention to become a monk. "Have hope in God," Athanasius told him, "and He will arrange what is beneficial for you." After this, Nicephorus and Leo, prayerfully, peacefully, and with great benefit to their souls, departed from Kimina. From that time on, they held Athanasius in greater reverence and respect than they had their uncle. After this, not only they, but all the other members of the synod and nobles who came to St. Michael for prayer and blessing, were sent by him to Athanasius for this purpose. But, loving humility and hating human glory, Athanasius resolved to leave Kimina—especially when he heard that the holy elder Michael wished to make him abbot in his place. Once, speaking of Athanasius with an acquaintance, the saint actually said: "Here is my successor!" But Saint Michael did not mean here the succession to his abbotcy: knowing from the Holy Spirit that Athanasius would achieve much in virtue, ascend to the heights of contemplation, and become a dwelling place of God's grace, he prophesied that his spiritual son would be granted similar gifts, would also be a shepherd of many rational sheep, only in a different place, and people would revere him.
As time passed, the divine Michael grew increasingly old and decrepit, and therefore often fell ill. The leading monks of the monastery, hoping that Athanasius would take over after his death, often visited him in his cell and, praising him, showed him various favors and services, something they had not done before. Surprised by their behavior, Athanasius initially did not understand the reason for their changed behavior, but soon learned from a monk that the Venerable Michael had named him his successor. Having received this news, Athanasius, although he regretted the separation from his beloved father, nevertheless, avoiding leadership and the cares associated with it, and most of all, considering himself unworthy of such a rank, left Kimen, taking with him nothing but two books he had written himself, as well as the four Gospels with the Acts of the Holy Apostles, and the sacred koukoulion of his venerable father, which he always guarded as a sacred treasure. Leaving Kimen, he withdrew to Athos, which, as we said above, he had seen and loved long ago.
Wishing to better understand the solitary life of the local ascetics, he visited many of the hermits. Upon seeing their extremely strict lifestyle, he marveled at them and was spiritually rejoiced at having found the place he had long desired. The wondrous Athonite fathers led a life devoid of any distractions: they did not cultivate the land, did not trade, had no physical care, did not keep draft animals, and did not even build cells for themselves. They merely wove small huts from grass and lived in them, suffering greatly: in summer from the heat of the sun, and in winter from the cold. Their only food was chestnuts and other similar fruits. And whoever supplied them with wheat or garden vegetables was repaid with wild fruits. But this happened very rarely, because Athos was a haven for the most godless Cretan barbarians, who came here often and either mercilessly killed or took into captivity the holy ascetics . 179 Visiting the silent desert ascetics, Athanasius learned that the Venerable Michael Maleinos had departed to the Lord, and shed tears of sorrow and regret for him, like a son for his father.
Surveying Athos in this manner, Saint Athanasius reached the monastery of Zig . Here, outside the monastery, he found a simple but spiritually experienced elder of the hermitage and remained in obedience to him, calling himself Barnabas and claiming to be a shipwrecked sailor—a complete ignoramus. He did this so as to remain unknown to everyone and so as to avoid being discovered by the nobles—Nikephoros and Leo, who revered him as their spiritual father and held him in deep reverence. Elder Athanasius, due to his advanced age and decrepitude, was unable to work much; therefore, being young and humble, he strove to make up for the lack of his elder's labors and performed every task, high and low. After a short time, he began to ask his elder to teach him to read and write. The elder, sincerely wishing to teach him the wisdom of books, wrote him an alphabet and began explaining the letters. But the renowned Byzantine teacher, while teaching him the alphabet, to the extreme strain of his supposed mentor's patience, pretended not only that he was illiterate but that he couldn't even learn it. Therefore, the simpleton often scolded the wise man and even drove him away. The wise Athanasius endured all this and even rejoiced at his father's rebukes.
The pious Nicephorus, hearing of Athanasius's departure from Kimina, was extremely saddened and resolved to use all available means to find him. He was unaware of Athanasius's thoughts on Athos and his desire to retire there. However, likely on a hunch, he wrote a persuasive letter to the judge in Thessaloniki, asking him to undertake the effort of traveling to Athos to find his dear friend, the monk Athanasius, placing his discovery above all else. In return, he promised the judge his sincere affection and constant attention. In his letter, Nicephorus outlined Athanasius's outward characteristics to the judge, and highlighted Athanasius's high learning and profound wisdom as moral distinctions. Upon receiving Nicephorus's letter, the judge immediately set out for Athos, but his search was futile, and he returned without success, for neither the Archpriest nor anyone else had ever heard of the learned and wise Athanasius. However, upon parting with the judge and wishing to console him, the Archpriest told him that on the upcoming feast of the Nativity of Christ he would be on the lookout for the monk he sought and perhaps he would meet him. According to the custom of that time, all the Athonite monks gathered at the Kareya Lavra three times a year (on the Nativity of Christ, Pascha, and the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos), held a common feast there, consoled themselves with the communion of the most pure, life-giving Mysteries of Christ, strengthened their fasting strength with a common meal, and then dispersed to their monasteries. So, when all the Athonite monks had gathered in the protaton, the protos recognized in a certain monk Barnabas the outward appearance of the commander's friend, Nicephorus. However, Barnabas was a simpleton, while Nicephorus's friend was a learned man. To better ascertain the truth, the protos decided to test Barnabas. He ordered the canonarch to assign Barnabas a reading for the brethren after the third ode . Barnabas apologized for his illiteracy, and his elder confirmed the same, saying he had barely memorized the beginning of the first psalm, and asked the protos to appoint another reader. But the protos ordered Barnabas to read as best he could. The monk began to read, slurring the syllables like a child. Then the protos threatened him with penance if he did not read as best he could. Here Athanasius, bound by fear of rebuke, could no longer conceal himself. He obeyed the authority appointed by God, loosened his finely articulate tongue, and began to read with such wisdom, so sweetly and ornately, that the entire assembly of elders, looking at him and listening to him, was amazed. At first, his supposed teacher, his elder, was amazed at what he heard from his supposed student and horrified. Then he wept with emotion, ashamed of his teaching, and at the same time glorified and thanked the Lord God, who had deemed him worthy to be the teacher of such a wise man. When Athanasius finished reading and, according to custom, bowed to both choirs, all the fathers rose and bowed to him. And one of the most venerable fathers of the Holy Mountain, Paul of Xeropotamou ...— He began speaking prophetically about Athanasius to the entire council of fathers: "Brothers! This brother, who came to this mountain after us, is ahead of us in virtue, and in the Kingdom of Heaven itself he will be greater than us in glory, for he will become the ruler of this mountain, will guide many to salvation, and all will obey him." Then the archpriest's identity as the simpleton Barnabas became clear, and he, taking Athanasius aside, announced that the Byzantine nobles Nicephorus and Leo were seeking him. The monk humbly and earnestly requested that the archpriest not reveal his presence to anyone. Not wishing to lose such a treasure for the mountain himself, the archpriest promised to keep his secret and assigned him a hermit's cell, three miles from Karyes, for his habitation. Living there in silence, Athanasius earned his living by handicrafts or by practicing calligraphy. He wrote so quickly that he completed the entire psalter in six days, and with such skill and beauty that no one else could compare. The money he earned from this labor he gave away in alms, keeping only a small amount to support himself and his companion, who assisted him in his life's work.
At that time, Nicephorus' brother, Master Leo, commander of all the regiments in the West, having defeated the Scythians, arrived on his return journey to Athos—partly to thank the Most Holy Theotokos for granting him a glorious victory over the barbarians , and partly to verify for himself whether Athanasius resided there. Since, according to Scripture, a city perched on a mountaintop cannot be hidden, this wise hermit soon revealed himself to the world. Leo, having learned of him after careful examination, came to his silent cell and, finding his father and venerable mentor, wept with intense joy, embraced him, and kissed him. The Athonite Fathers, seeing the powerful nobleman's great affection for the saint, suggested that he ask the governor for funds to build a church in Karyes (that is, a protat), larger than the previous one, for the old one was small and could not accommodate all the Athonite brethren when they held meetings, which greatly embarrassed and hindered the brethren. The saint proposed this to Leo. Leo gladly gave them as much money as they needed, and a magnificent church soon began to grace the site of their monastic gatherings.
After spending several days in wise and divinely inspired conversations with Athanasius, Leo departed from Athos. Subsequently, Athanasius's fame spread throughout the Holy Mountain, and many began to come to him daily for spiritual benefit. But he, loving silence and avoiding grounds for vanity, withdrew to the inner parts of the mountain to find a place there that suited his purpose. God, providing not only for his benefit but also for the benefit of his future flock, led him to the very end of Athos—to its cape. There, the saint built himself a small kaliva and, in his ascetic struggles, rose from strength to strength. This place, destined to serve as a foundation for all of Athos, was called Melana (Black). Meanwhile, the son of darkness and hater of good, the devil, seeing the saint's great exploits, could not remain indifferent and prepared to wage war against his adversary. At first, he pierced the saint with the arrows of negligence and tried in every way to arouse in him hatred for the place he had chosen, so as to drive him away. But all this was by divine design and permission, so that the saint, through his own struggles, would learn to recognize the enemy's cunning warfare against man and would then be able to help his future children in temptation. Since there was no one there with whom he could consult about what to do, he resolved on the following thought: "I will endure for a year, and then whatever the Lord decrees for me, that I will do." Having thus decided his fate, the saint remained there and endured incessant warfare for the entire year. On the last day, when he was preparing to go to Karyes in the morning to confess the circumstances of his life to the fathers there, suddenly, after he had read the third hour, a heavenly light shone upon him and surrounded him entirely. The devil, unable to bear this heavenly radiance, departed from Athanasius, his dark temptations alike, and the saint's heart was filled with indescribable joy, which shed abundant and sweet tears. From that time on, the saint received the gift of compunction and wept without effort whenever he wished, and he came to love that place of Melana as much as he had previously hated it.
At that time, the renowned and pious Nicephorus, appointed by the emperor as supreme commander of the entire Roman army, set out with his army for the island of Crete, where the impious Hagarenes were then nesting and causing great havoc among the Romans. Having learned from his brother Leo that Athanasius was on Mount Athos, he sent the royal ship there with a letter to the venerable fathers of the Holy Mountain. Asking their holy prayers to the Lord God for His all-powerful aid in defeating and disgracing the impious, he urged them to send Athanasius to him with two other virtuous elders. The Athonites, having read the commander's letter, were amazed that he harbored such affection for the saint. They readily agreed to fulfill the commander's request and prayer, but Athanasius did not readily agree to their will and desire, so they were forced to resort to strong restraining measures against him. Then, even reluctantly, he obeyed them. The Athonites gave him an elder as a companion, but Athanasius began to obey him as a student obeys his teacher. Having dismissed Athanasius, all the inhabitants of the Holy Mountain began to offer fervent prayer to the Lord God for both him and Nicephorus, and the brave Nicephorus gloriously defeated the Cretan Hagarenes. His sincere friend Athanasius also arrived there soon and safely. The fortunate commander greeted him with indescribable joy and marveled greatly at his great humility and joy in fulfilling his duty of obedience to a simple elder. The victorious Nicephorus, before recounting to his friend the courageous deeds he had accomplished in this glorious war, reminded him of his earlier promises to become a monk and said, "The fear, Father, which you formerly suffered throughout the Mountain from the impious Hagarenes, has now ended through your holy prayers. And I, having repeatedly promised your holiness to withdraw from the world, now have no obstacle to fulfilling this promise. Only, Father, I earnestly ask you: first, create for us a silent refuge where we can be alone with the other brethren. Then, build a particularly large church for the community, where we can go every Sunday to partake of the Divine Mysteries of Christ." Having said this, Nicephorus then gave the saint sufficient funds for the needs and expenses of the proposed construction. But Athanasius, avoiding the cares and worries of this world, refused to accept the hated gold from his friend. He commanded him to always preserve the fear of God and be mindful of his own life, for he was amid the snares of the world. He simply said, "If it is God's will, what you desire will be fulfilled." Upon hearing Athanasius's refusal, Nicephorus fell into great sorrow, but did not abandon his desire and hope to establish a monastery on Athos for himself and his friend. Finally, after spending several days in mutual and pleasant conversations on conquered Crete, the friends parted ways: the monk returned to Athos, and the strategos, having defeated the Hagarene hordes, departed for the capital. Inflamed with a strong and urgent desire to build a monastery, Nicephorus quickly sent a spiritual friend named Methodius to Athanasius.who later became the abbot of Mount Kiminskaya, with a letter and six liters of gold and earnestly asked him to begin construction of the monastery. The saint, reflecting on the ardent desire and good intentions of the pious commander, saw that it was God's will for the monastery to be founded, and therefore, having accepted the gold sent to him, in the month of March 6469 (961), on the 4th indiction, he diligently began construction - first, as Nicephorus wished, of a silent refuge, where he built a church.184 in the name of the all-glorious Forerunner, and then, below his old kaliva in Melana, he began building a magnificent church in the name and honor of the Most Holy Theotokos for the proposed coenobia—something Nicephorus also desired. Seeing these deeds of the saint, the feeble adversary, the devil, was overcome with anger and resolved to hinder his construction. When the builders began digging the earth for the foundation of the church, the powerless hater of good weakened their hands with his demonic actions, so that they could not even touch their lips. Saint Athanasius, having offered them a fervent prayer to God, loosened their hands and thus shamed the evil one. This was his first miracle. Afterwards, he took up a digging tool and, to the demon's great annoyance, began digging the earth himself, and the craftsmen followed suit, working unhindered. Seeing the miracle Athanasius had performed on them, they felt a great reverence for the miracle worker and, falling at his feet, earnestly begged him to grant them the monastic angelic icon. Athanasius fulfilled their holy wish and thanked the Lord God for sending it inhabitants even before the monastery was built. Then the builders began to build their refuge not as mercenaries, but as owners. And so the work proceeded quickly and grew successfully.
But as fame of the saint's great virtues and rumors of his divine work spread far and wide, many flocked to him from far and wide, desiring to cohabit with such a holy man and, to the best of their ability, imitate his exalted ascetic life. With the assistance of God and the prayers of the saint, that divine, graceful, and wondrous cross-shaped church dedicated to the Most Holy Theotokos was completed. The saint then built two more small churches, one on the right and one on the left side of the great one—one dedicated to the miracle worker Nicholas, and the other to the holy Forty Martyrs. Only then did the saint receive the great schema—from a certain virtuous hermit named Isaiah. Until then, he had not yet attained the perfection of monasticism, though his virtues had long exalted him both before God and before men, and, like a radiant sun, he shone before the whole world. After this, he built cells for the brethren, a refectory containing twenty-one white marble tables, each seating twelve people, then a hospital and guesthouse, a bathhouse for the sick and the straitened, and other necessary amenities for his pious establishment. Since there was insufficient water near the newly constructed Lavra, the saint searched for it in various parts of the mountain, and finally, in a high, impassable spot, seventy stadia from the monastery, he discovered several springs flowing with excellent water. Despite insurmountable and incalculable difficulties, he either excavated or demolished gigantic cliffs, laid drainpipes between them, collected and connected several springs, and brought so much water to the Lavra that he was able to divide it into several reservoirs, each separately constructed for each service, such as a bakery, a kitchen, and so on—all of which can be seen to this day.
“To narrate about the other buildings and institutions of the saint, such as: the chapels inside and outside the monastery, the mills, vegetable gardens and vineyards, the various trees he planted, the metokhs he acquired and other estates which he arranged for the benefit of the brethren, also about the painting in the church and about all the rites and regulations in the church and outside it, I,” says the biographer, “consider it unnecessary, since this is the matter of history, and not the story of his life. I will only say,” he writes, “that the saint himself always took part in all the above-mentioned labors. He was so strong and powerful that many times one man dragged some load on one side, while three men dragged it on the other and barely managed to keep up with him. A multitude of people gathered to him from everywhere: some to receive his blessing, others to ask him about doubtful or unknown matters; He received everyone kindly and edified them with salutary conversations, so that no one returned from him without spiritual benefit. He devoted all his attention to the church services and ensured that they were conducted in a godly manner and with the utmost precision. Therefore, during the services, no one dared to speak freely or leave the church unless absolutely necessary. He always kept two brothers outside the church to examine those leaving, and any who did not have a valid reason for leaving were not permitted to leave. Furthermore, one brother walked around the church during the readings, during which, according to custom, they sat, waking those who were sleeping or stopping those who were talking. The other brother was commanded to note when someone entered the church and to report on it in detail and accurately. Afterward, he himself examined everyone, and strictly punished those who arrived late to the service—precisely due to carelessness and negligence. In short, the saint was a most wise steward and a tireless shepherd, meticulously ensuring that the ravenous wolf did not devour a single sheep from his spiritual flock. For his soul-beneficial precision in managing the flock entrusted to him, for his great zeal for the church, for his own God-pleasing, hidden life, and for his great reverence for the Ever-Virgin and Most Blessed Mother of God, he was often granted the sight of Her, the Most Merciful One to the human race, even with his physical eyes—as he always saw Her with his intellect. Of these many instances, we will recount one.
While Saint Athanasius was building his Lavra, by God's providence, one year there was such a famine and crop failure that the many brethren who had flocked to him, unable to endure the rigorous ascetic labors and the trials that befell the Lavra, dispersed one after another, until finally only Saint Athanasius himself remained, and without a crust of bread. As strong in ascetic labors and steadfast in his spirit of endurance as Saint Athanasius was, hunger overcame him, his fortitude wavered, and he resolved to leave the Lavra and go elsewhere. The next morning, Saint Athanasius, with his iron staff, in a troubled mood, walked dejectedly along the road to Karyes, having already spent two hours on the road. Finally, his strength was exhausted and he was about to sit down to rest, when suddenly a woman appeared, walking toward him, under a light blue, airy veil. Saint Athanasius was confused and, not believing his own eyes, crossed himself.
“Where could a woman come from here,” he asked himself, “when women are not allowed here?”
Marveling at the vision, he approached the stranger.
"Where are you going, elder?" she asked Saint Athanasius modestly, drawing level with him. Saint Athanasius glanced at his companion, looked into her eyes, and then, involuntarily respectful, lowered his gaze. The modesty of her attire, her quiet, virginal gaze, her touching voice—everything about her revealed her to be no mere chance woman.
"Who are you? How did you get here?" the elder asked the stranger. "And why do you need to know where I'm going? You see, I'm a local monk. What more could you want?"
"If you are a 'monk,' " the woman replied, "then you should respond differently from ordinary people—be simple-hearted, trusting, and modest. I want to know where you are going; I know your grief and everything that is happening to you, and I can help you—but first I want to hear where you are going."
Surprised by the words of his mysterious interlocutor, Saint Athanasius told her his grief.
"And you couldn't bear this?" the stranger retorted. "For the sake of a daily bread, you abandon a monastery that should be renowned for generations to come? Is this in the spirit of monasticism? Where is your faith? Come back," she continued. "I will help you: everything will be granted in abundance, but don't abandon your solitude, which will become renowned and take first place among all the monasteries that have arisen here."
"Who are you?" asked Afanasy.
"She to whose name you dedicate your monastery, to whom you entrust its fate and your own salvation. I am the Mother of your Lord," the wondrous Woman replied. Saint Athanasius looked at her incredulously and then began to speak:
"I'm afraid to believe it, because even the enemy is transformed into an angel of light. How can you convince me of the truth of your words?" the elder added.
"Do you see this stone?" the stranger replied. "Strike it with your staff, and then you will understand who is speaking to you. Know also that from this time on, I will forever remain the steward (economissa) of your Lavra." Athanasius struck the stone, and it exploded like lightning: a noisy spring of water immediately flowed from its crack and bounced down the slope of the hill, rushing down to the sea.
Struck by such a miracle, Saint Athanasius turned to throw himself at the feet of the Divine Stranger, but She was no longer there; like lightning, She vanished from his astonished gaze. Since then, this spring continues to flow healingly to this day, a two-hour walk from the Lavra . Not only Athanasius, but also some of his flock, were granted such grace, for their consolation and edification. Among these was a certain Matthew. One day, during Matins, the eyes of his soul were suddenly opened, and he saw a certain Woman enter the church, clothed in heavenly glory and honor, accompanied by two youths in light-white robes. One held a burning candle and illuminated Her path, walking before Her like a slave, while the other followed Her, both treating Her with great reverence. As these extraordinary visitors began to examine everyone present in the church, that wondrous Woman distributed gifts among all the brethren: to those in the choir, she gave each a gold coin; to those standing inside the church, 12 silver coins ; and to those in the narthex, six pieces of silver each. Some brethren even received six gold coins. The reverent Matthew himself received only six silver coins, for he, too, stood in the narthex. As soon as this vision ended, he immediately went to the choir, reported it to his father, and asked his permission to join the choir. The saint acknowledged the vision as true, explaining that those who received six miliarisii were more reverent than the others, and for this, according to the holy and rich activities they had engaged in during the service, they had also received a rich reward. As for the fact that the reverent and virtuous Matthew received the gift equally with the negligent, this was done with the purpose that he, having received the highest reward, would not become proud and negligent, but, having accepted the lesser gift, would remain in humility and strive to grow even more in virtues.
Saint Athanasius, strict and precise in his rules regarding the church, was the same outside it. Conversation was completely forbidden in the refectory; no one was to share his share of food or drink with another brother during the meal, and anyone who broke even the most insignificant vessel publicly asked forgiveness of everyone. After Compline, no conversation was permitted, and visiting another's cell was forbidden. Idle chatter was forgotten, communal life was strictly observed; no one dared even utter the cold words "mine" or "yours," for this separates us from blessed love. Then all things were held in common, as Basil the Great commands . And whoever found anything placed it in a place open to all, so that anyone to whom it was given for use could easily find it. In short, under his guidance, the monks led a blessed and wondrous life.
While Saint Athanasius was governing his flock in such a pleasing manner, a man came to him with news he considered pleasing to the saint: his illustrious friend Nicephorus had become emperor. Instead of rejoicing, Athanasius was greatly saddened by this, for he had founded the monastery solely because Nicephorus had promised to accept monasticism and then live with him forever, sharing the labors of solitude. Thus, the saint was deceived in his expectations: all his cares were in vain, and the purpose for which he had abandoned the life of solitude was lost. When Nicephorus, who had caused Athanasius so much trouble, failed to keep his promise and was crowned king, Athanasius decided to abandon his monastery. Without telling anyone his intentions, he took three monks with him and departed the Lavra with them, saying he was going to the new emperor to attend to the monastery's needs. Having reached the island of Lemnos, the elder sent one of the monks to the king with a letter in which he strongly but politely reproached him for neglecting his promises to God and preferring a temporary kingdom to the ever-lasting heavenly one. He concluded the letter thus: “King! You see that it was you, not anyone else, who drew me into many futile and useless labors. Therefore, I am now going to some place of solitude, which I have always desired and continue to desire. I commend the monastery, first to God, and then into your hands. In the Lavra there is a virtuous monk worthy of respect, named Euthymius—he can become abbot.” The monk presented himself to the king with this letter. The king, without even reading it, rejoiced when he learned that it was from Athanasius. How great was his sorrow upon reading this inspired letter! He wept bitterly then and severely reproached himself. The monk who carried the letter wept no less than the emperor when he learned of his father's unknown departure. Saint Athanasius then sent another monk, Theodotus, to the monastery, ostensibly to visit the brethren and inform them of their condition. The saint retained the third monk, Anthony, and fled with him to Cyprus. There they stayed in a monastery called the Monastery of the Holy Ones, until they heard the outcome of all this. Meanwhile, the emperor sent strict orders throughout his realm that Athanasius be found without fail. When this order arrived in Cyprus and news of it reached Athanasius, he departed. Leaving Cyprus, he wanted to go to Jerusalem, but upon hearing that everyone in Palestine was in jeopardy due to the invasion of the godless Hagarenes, he postponed his journey. Then the saint felt pressed on both sides: in Palestine by the Hagarenes, and in Greece by the search. In his grief, Athanasius turned fervently to God in prayer, asking Him to reveal what he should do now. That night, the saint was granted a vision of the Lord, Who commanded him to return to the monastery he had founded, promising to abundantly grow it and save many there through him. Athanasius unquestioningly obeyed the Lord's will and immediately set off with his disciple for their former place on dry land.They had been on the road for several days. From the length and difficulty of the journey, Anthony's leg had swollen; a fever so severe that he lay motionless, as if dead, had also joined this illness. But the saint, having offered up prayer to the Lord God for him, healed him of all these ailments. Not wishing, however, to fully demonstrate his miraculous powers, Saint Athanasius first gathered various herbs and bound them around Anthony's afflicted body parts. Therefore, it seemed as if the sick man had been healed not by the power of prayer, but by the action of the herbs. Meanwhile, the aforementioned Theodotus, arriving at the Lavra, found all the brethren there in great confusion and grief over the loss of their father, and Euthymius not accepting the leadership. Therefore, after remaining at the Lavra for several days, he left it and went in search of his venerable father, whom, to his unspeakable joy, he found in Attalia. Hearing from Theodotus of the turmoil at the Lavra, Athanasius immediately sent him back to console all the brethren and announce his return to them. Following Theodotus, he himself was quick to appear at the Lavra. The monks, seeing their father and shepherd, rejoiced more than a blind man rejoices upon seeing the sun: one kissed his hands, another his feet, another his very rags. Word spread like lightning throughout the Holy Mountain that Athanasius had returned to Athos, and so a multitude of monks gathered daily to see him. Each invariably brought something with them: one wheat, another oil, another some other edible item, for the Lavra had fallen into such poverty after Athanasius' departure that upon his return, it no longer had enough flour for even a single loaf of bread. But with the appearance of the shepherd, all affairs within his sacred enclosure immediately took a different turn.and so every day a multitude of monks gathered to see him; and each one invariably brought something with him: one wheat, another oil, another something else edible, for the Lavra had become so poor after Athanasius's departure that upon his return there was no longer even enough flour for bread. But with the appearance of the shepherd, all affairs within his sacred enclosure immediately took a different turn.and so every day a multitude of monks gathered to see him; and each one invariably brought something with him: one wheat, another oil, another something else edible, for the Lavra had become so poor after Athanasius's departure that upon his return there was no longer even enough flour for bread. But with the appearance of the shepherd, all affairs within his sacred enclosure immediately took a different turn.
Some time later, due to the monastery's pressing needs, Athanasius himself was obliged to depart for the capital. The Tsar heard that his friend had come to him and was greatly rejoiced, yet at the same time he was ashamed to see him in his royal dignity and not in the guise of a monk. Therefore, rising from his royal throne, he went to meet him, not as a Tsar, but as a private individual, and greeted him with great humility. Offering Athanasius a friendly greeting, he took him by the hand and led him into his inner chambers. There, he profusely and humbly apologized to him, saying, "I know, Father, I know that I, and no one else, am the cause of all your labors and sorrows: I, forgetting the fear of God, have trampled upon my holy vows. But I beg you, be patient with me, awaiting my conversion, until the Lord deigns to repay Him according to His promises." The monk rejoiced, seeing the emperor's piety and great humility. Although the saint foresaw in spirit that Nicephorus was destined to end his life on the throne, he did not announce this to him, but merely reminded him to humble himself, to mourn his sins, to grieve for the violation of his vow to become a monk, for he had lied to God by failing to fulfill this promise—to forgive those who had sinned against him and to be merciful to the poor. After spending several days with the emperor in edifying conversations and having provided for all the needs of the monastery, Athanasius left the capital and, upon his departure, predicted to Nicephorus's confidants that their emperor would soon die. As he parted and bid farewell to his friend, the emperor gave him a chrysobull for the annual tribute from the island of Lemnos—two hundred and forty-four gold coins. At the same time, he granted the Lavra of Athanasius and a large monastery in Thessalonica, appointing him the Lavra's metochion. Since the monks of the Holy Mountain had asked Athanasius, upon his departure for the capital, to request a gift from the emperor for the Karyan church as well, the Christ-loving Nicephorus also ordered the Karyan church to receive an annual distribution of four liters of gold from the royal purse, in addition to the three liters it had previously received.
Athanasius's flock grew daily, but the generous Giver, even in abundance, sent His faithful servants all they needed. Therefore, they considered kind and generous hospitality an indispensable duty. And since the Lavra lacked a suitable harbor for ships, which would have been beneficial not only for the monks of the Lavra but for the entire Holy Mountain, and even for strangers, the most blessed and hospitable Athanasius, much lamented over this, finally decided to establish such a harbor as he could. The devil, however, envious of this good deed, managed, through his demonic malice, to cause the saint, with God's permission, considerable grief. When a huge tree was being lowered into the pier, the saint, as was his custom, assisted those lowering it: he pulled the tree from below, while the craftsmen stood above, carefully lowering it down the mountainside. At this moment, driven by a demon, the tree swiftly descended and, crushing the saint's leg, crushed his shin and ankle. As a result, the saint lay in bed for three years, barely enduring the suffering. Before this befell the saint, an elder with enlightened eyes of the soul saw an entire regiment of demons coming with great indignation to the Holy Mountain. Their leader sent a hundred throughout the Holy Mountain to tempt the monks, and with nine hundred, enraged with malice, he himself set off for the Lavra of Athanasius. To the demon's chagrin, the saint refused to be idle even during his illness. Even then, as was his custom, he occupied himself with calligraphy: he wrote a psalter in six days, and a patericon in forty, and he never ceased to conquer the anger of the father of the underworld, to break his insidious nets, which he had set up against his flock.
At this time, the pious Emperor Nicephorus exchanged earthly life for eternity. During the reign of his successor (John Tzimiskes), the Evil One found a favorable opportunity to tempt the saint again. He incited simple monks living in other parts of the mountain to complain to the new emperor about the saint, saying that Athanasius had destroyed the old customs, completely distorted the ancient decrees, introduced various arbitrary innovations, acquired numerous livestock, planted vineyards, built numerous elegant buildings—in short, had turned the Holy Mountain into a secular settlement, which was why many temptations arose on the mountain. Therefore, they asked the emperor to expel Athanasius from the Holy Mountain and destroy his proud buildings. The emperor, knowing the saint's high virtue, did not immediately believe the slander, but wrote to the accused asking him to appear before him in person for a personal explanation. Athanasius, healed of his illness, appeared. Having seen him and become convinced of his personal merits, the emperor expressed deep respect for him and, instead of harming him, he bestowed a favor upon him, like his predecessor Nicephorus. He participated in the development of the monastery, appointed an annual donation of 244 gold coins from the royal treasury to his monastery, and gave him his chrysobull for this purpose. The Athonites, seeing that their unjust complaint against Athanasius had brought him not harm but actual benefit, recognized that the devil had deceived them into plotting against the righteous man, to their own destruction. Therefore, repenting, they humbly asked the saint's forgiveness. Meanwhile, the adversary, filled with hatred and malice, seeing that this method could not harm the saint in any way, gnashed his teeth at him and prepared for a new and more intense battle. This preparation was witnessed by one of those with pure spiritual eyes—the elder Thomas. At the third hour of the day, he fell into a frenzy and saw: all the mountains and valleys of Athos were filled with Pythics, gloomy as Ethiopians, who with great anger and fury said to one another: “Friends! Why do we tolerate these inhabitants here? Why don’t we destroy them? Why don’t we tear them to pieces with our teeth? How much longer must we tolerate their leader, this cruel destroyer of us? Why don’t we destroy him yet? Do you not see that he has most cruelly driven us from our place?” While the demons were saying this and similar things with all their demonic malice, Thomas saw the saint emerge from his cell, staff in hand, and begin to cruelly beat the enraged Ethiopians. The Moors, unable to bear the saint’s blows, vanished like smoke and fled not only from Melana but from the entire Holy Mountain. This vision soon came to pass. A murderer of old had aroused such hatred in one unfortunate monk of the Lavra for Athanasius that he resolved to kill his good-natured father. So, having sharpened a knife, he quietly came to his cell at night, while the saint was offering up fervent prayer to the Lord God for his ungrateful father, and said:
– Father, bless!
The voice of Jacob, but the hands of Esau.
Athanasius, as righteous as Abel, was unaware that Cain stood outside, summoning him to his death. From inside the cell, the saint asked, "Who is there?" and opened the door. But as soon as the impudent and treacherous son saw his meek father, his hands involuntarily froze, and the deadly weapon fell to the ground. He then fell at the feet of his innocent father and, with bitter weeping, said:
– Have mercy, Father, on your murderer! Forgive my iniquity and forgive the wickedness of my heart!
The monk, having lit the fire, saw on the ground a knife sharpened for his slaughter, recognized the hellish intention of his traitorous son against himself and, surprised by this, said:
"Do you come upon me as if I were a robber, my child? But may God forgive you your iniquity! So stop your tears and don't tell anyone about this unfortunate deed of yours."
Speaking thus, the saint kissed him as his friend and, assuring him of his forgetfulness of the insult inflicted upon him, gave him certain gifts in the Lord. Subsequently, he always loved him—not only alive but also after death—and mourned him more than all the other brothers. Thus was the blessed one so forgetful of wrongs! Meanwhile, this parricide, deeply touched by his father's meekness, weeping and lamenting his iniquity, could not refrain from preaching about the depth of his father's love for him and about his own great crime, and he died with a feeling of profound repentance. And another brother, also driven by primordial malice to hatred of the saint, absolutely wanted to destroy him from the land of the living. But, not knowing how to succeed in this most criminal plan, he indulged in sorcery and enchantments. Yet, to his astonishment, he found that all his charms against his kindly father were completely ineffective. This pitiful monk accidentally asked his other brother:
– Can enchantment have any effect on a person?
The brother answered:
– Against a pious person who lives according to God, sorcery is completely powerless.
Hearing this, the brother, darkened by malice, came to his senses. Knowing of his father's meekness toward a parricide like himself, he came to him and, falling at his feet, with great sobbing confessed his sin and asked his forgiveness—which he received from him who imitated the One who loved the sinful world even to the point of death on the cross. Such was Athanasius toward those who sinned against him!
The saint provided prompt aid to the sick and weak and was a most compassionate caregiver. He always admonished his monks:
– Know, children, that God wants each person to help his brothers as much as he can – first in relation to the body, and then in relation to the soul, and to lead them to repentance with words of edification, so that even those who are unworthy of our Lord may become worthy and honest.
Whenever gravely ill patients arose, covered in wounds and scabs—whether monks or strangers—and when their attendants, unable to bear the stench and foul odor of their wounds, neglected them, he himself, with his own hands, cleansed their rotten limbs. He also performed other menial tasks, always striving to do them as secretly as possible. Therefore, the Lord, seeing his great humility and labor, often miraculously healed the sick—and many were thus healed. But the saint did not announce this, claiming that they had recovered from herbs. If he discerned in spirit that it was not God's will for a sick person to be healed, he would perform an all-night vigil with all the brethren and ask God, in His compassion, to grant him rest, thus relieving both the sick person from suffering and the attendants from unnecessary burdens. And by morning, when they had finished their prayers, the sick man would also end his life. In his great humility, the saint always attributed this miracle to the prayers of all the brethren. Negligence, laziness, and idleness were nonexistent in his flock. Even the most infirm and elderly had work commensurate with their strength. Moreover, every task was invariably accompanied by prayer and psalmody, not idle talk, so that the task itself would be blessed and the soul sanctified.
With the light of his great deeds, Athanasius illuminated almost the entire world, and thus, with his virtues, he glorified the Heavenly Father, for which God exalted him even in his earthly life. The saint was a universal father and mentor, an intercessor for all before the throne of the Most High, an angelic comforter sent from above. The glory of his virtues resounded not only throughout the Holy Mountain but also far beyond its borders. Therefore, not only Athonite hermits abandoned their silence and came to him to submit to his guidance, considering this more beneficial than their own silence. Wanderers from Greece and various other lands, such as ancient Rome, Italy, Calabria, Amalfia, Georgia, and Armenia, came to him. Monks and laypeople, simple and noble, poor and rich, came and sought his guidance on the path to heaven. Even abbots of the cenobiums and bishops came, leaving their thrones and staffs of authority, and submitted to his wise leadership. Antiquity has handed down to us the names of Patriarch Nicholas, the glorious Charonite ; Andrew Chrysopolites, the renowned ascetic and great sage; the wondrous ascetic Acacius and many other hermits, chain-bearers, who grew old in asceticism: all of them, either by divine direction or by direct revelation from above, came to the saint and entered into his leadership. One of these was Blessed Nicephorus, who labored in Calabria with Saint Phantinus. He received a divine vision commanding Phantinus to go to Thessaloniki, and Nicephorus to go to Athos and submit there to the governor of Mount Athanasius. Nicephorus did just that—he came to the saint, who gladly received him and, for a short time, allowed him to live as he had before. He wore only a hair shirt and ate only once a day after sunset—bran with warm water, and nothing else. The saint dressed him in Cenobitic garments and commanded him to eat what the others ate. The aging ascetic did not contradict his new guide, but zealously obeyed all his commands, and thus attained such heights of virtue that when he died, a wondrous myrrh flowed from his bones, more fragrant than any earthly perfume. Such were the great men sent by God under the guidance of Athanasius! So, if the fruit reveals the worth of the tree, and the tree the strength and quality of the root, then the fruit of those instructed by Athanasius reveals what kind of man he himself was. But it is time, albeit briefly, to touch upon some of the miracles with which God glorified this great saint of His.
Having been granted the gift of miracles for his extraordinary virtues, the saint performed countless them. Often, with a single touch of his hand or even his staff, or with a single word or the sign of the cross, he healed various ailments—both spiritual and physical. But it must be noted that in these effortless healings of human ailments, he always considered the true benefit of those suffering, which he clearly saw with the enlightened eyes of his soul. Therefore, he did not heal some immediately, alleviated the suffering of others only slightly or temporarily, and for others he merely halted the effects of the illness, leaving their souls to struggle with their thoughts—to acquire ascetic struggles. Let us begin our description of his miracles with the gift of clairvoyance. Once, during a difficult and harsh winter, he suddenly summoned a brother named Theodore, a fisherman, and said to him:
- Take food, brother, and go quickly, heading from Kerasia 189 down to the sea; there are one monk and two laymen there, thrown ashore by a storm, in danger of dying from hunger and cold: strengthen them with food, and then bring them here with you.
The brother went to the sea and, indeed, found there those about whom his father had prophesied. The unfortunates, strengthened by food, returned to the Lavra with joy and loudly gave thanks to God and His holy servant.
Another time, the saint, for some reason, decided to set out for a certain place with several brethren. They boarded a boat and had already set off a considerable distance from the shore when a malicious demon plotted to drown them: he stirred up and agitated the sea with a strong wind, capsizing the boat—and in almost an instant, the water covered everyone on board. But no sooner had the boat capsized—what a miracle, Lord!—thank God!—the saint immediately found himself sitting atop it, while the others walked on the waters. All of them, pulled from the water by their father, one after another climbed harmlessly onto the back of the boat. The only one missing was the Cyprian, Peter, who, like Peter of old, had sunk in the waters for his unbelief. Unable to see him, the saint cried out:
"Where are you, Peter, my child?" and the sea immediately threw the drowning man up.
Meanwhile, the Lavra monks, who had come to the pier to bid farewell to the saint, witnessed everything that transpired on the sea from there. They immediately boarded another boat and came to the distressed brethren, transferred them to their own, and turned the one the demon had overturned back around. To the monks' even greater amazement, not a single vessel or even the smallest items in the boat fell into the sea. From that time on, the Lavra brethren deepened their faith and reverence for the saint.
One monk, named Matthew, tormented by a fierce demon, was accepted into the Lavra by the monk and only by his word was he delivered from this cruel and unrighteous tormentor of people.
Another monk at the Lavra was so weak that urine leaked from his veins while he slept, naturally causing his clothes to stink. He was, however, a most zealous ascetic. The poor monk grieved greatly over his weakness, but revealed the cause of his affliction to no one. The Evil One is always quick to offer ruinous aid in our troubles if we do not promptly seek help from above. He, the wretched one, advised the grieving monk to hang himself, so as to quickly escape the reproach. The unfortunate man was about to carry out this hellish advice, but the all-merciful God did not allow his zealous labors and struggles to be wasted. He inspired the heart of the unfortunate suicide to confess his terrible sin to the saint . Confessing to the saint, he showed him his fatal noose, with which he intended to hang himself, but he was ashamed to reveal the reason for such a crime and had barely disclosed it when the saint himself kindly persuaded him to do so. "Darkened one!" (the saint used this word when scolding someone), the saint then said angrily, "why didn't you tell me about this before? Go, and do it no more." And—miracle!—his word became deed: the monk was forever freed from his infirmity.
Another monk, named Theodore, ravaged by a terrible and incurable disease—cancer—was healed by the saint only by making the sign of the precious cross on him. To test Theodore's patience and obedience, the saint first entrusted him to the Lavra physician, Timothy. The physician, although he knew the cancer was incurable, took the patient under his care, so as not to appear disobedient. The saint often did this.
One year, so many locusts attacked the island called "Youth Island," where the Lavra had its mitochion, that they destroyed almost all vegetation, resulting in famine and death of livestock. The saint himself went to the island and prayed fervently to the Lord God, and at his prayer, so many birds immediately flew there that they destroyed all the locusts in a single day.
More than once the saint sweetened sea water and made it fit for drinking.
The saint healed a Lavra brother named Gerasim, who suffered severely from a hernia and rheumatism, through prayer and the imprinting of the saving cross on him. After the saint's righteous death, this Gerasim, bearing witness to God, confessed the following: "Once, when the saint was in the Church of the Holy Apostles, I needed to converse with him. I went to him, looked through a crack in the door, and saw his face like a flame of fire. I retreated a little, then returned again, and again I saw his face shining with an even greater light, even he himself was surrounded by a kind of angelic radiance. Then I trembled with fear and involuntarily cried out:
- Father!
The saint, comforting me, said:
"Don't be afraid, my child! However, I give you this command: do not tell anyone what you have just seen while I am alive."
“And keeping my father’s commandment, I have not told you this until this day.”
A certain brother, sent into the world by the saint for some monastic need, neglected his salvation and fell into carnal sin there . Returning to the Lavra in despair over his salvation, he confessed to the saint. The saint, like an experienced physician, consoled him and urged him not to despair but to have hope in God, then left him to his former monastic obedience. Upon learning of this, another monk, named Paul, was tempted and began openly condemning both the fallen brother and the saint, claiming that the saint had not expelled the criminal from the monastery for committing such an unlawful and shameful act. The saint, looking sternly at him, said:
"Paul, what are you doing? Pay attention to yourself, and don't look at your brother's sins. It is written: 'Let him who thinks he stands beware lest he fall'" ( 1 Cor. 10:12 ).
From that time on, by God's permission, Paul himself experienced a powerful battle of lust and suffered severely for three days, so much so that he began to despair of salvation. Worst of all, he was ashamed to reveal this vile battle to his father and ask for his help. The saint knew all this in spirit and fittingly inspired him with the courage to confess. It was then that Paul revealed his sin to him and asked his forgiveness, as a father compassionate to sinners. After this, the saint first admonished him not to judge those who fell, but rather to sympathize with them and pray for them. Then, seeing his humility and contrition, he prayed to God for him and freed him from this vile battle. Paul felt a chill that poured onto his head and spread throughout his entire body, causing the burning lust within him to immediately subside.
And the brother of the Lavra, Athanasius, was healed from dropsy through just one touch of Athanasius to his stomach and the utterance of these words:
- Go, child, you have no illness.
Besides those we have described, the saint performed many other miracles before his death, but for the sake of brevity we will omit them. Now it's time for us to tell of his death and the miracles he performed after his passing, and to bring this account to a close.
Since so many brethren from almost all over the world flocked to the saint, submitting to him for their spiritual salvation, the old church soon became too crowded for them all. This compelled the saint to begin expanding the cathedral. Construction was underway, but only the altar vaults had not yet been completed. Then Saint Athanasius, foreseeing that the time had come for him to depart to Christ, whom he had always desired, summoned all the brethren to him and, first offering them a sermon from Theodore the Studite , began the following discourse:
"My brothers and children! Let each of you guard your tongue, for it is better to fall from the greatest possible height than to suffer a fall from the tongue. Let each of you expect temptation, for we walk to the Kingdom of Heaven through afflictions and trials. Therefore, do not grieve over the calamity that is about to befall me, and do not be offended by it, but consider that what is happening is by God's arrangement directed to your benefit, for people judge differently, and the All-Wise arranges differently."
Hearing this, the brethren were perplexed by what their father was speaking of and pondered it at length. Then the saint entered his cell and donned his cassock, mantle, and the sacred koukolion of his most blessed father, Maleinos, which he usually donned only on the days of great Lord's feasts or when receiving the Holy Mysteries of Christ. After lingering alone in his cell for some time, he emerged. His spirit was exceedingly joyful, a state reflected even on his face. The brethren, seeing him thus adorned and his face so bright and cheerful, marveled at this extraordinary sight. Afterwards, the saint and six of his brethren ascended to the top of the church to inspect the structure and assist the builders. As soon as they had ascended, the roof of the church, by some inscrutable act of God, cracked beneath their feet, and they all rushed down. Five immediately surrendered their souls into the hands of God. Saint Athanasius and the architect Daniel, though buried under stones, remained alive. Everyone heard the saint, lying under the stones, say until three o'clock:
– Glory to Thee, O God! Lord Jesus Christ, help me!
With great weeping and abundant tears, the brethren dug out their father with whatever they could, but upon digging, they found him already dead in the Lord. The position of his body was as follows: his head was turned toward the holy altar, his hands folded crosswise, and his legs, straight, were extended upward, as if he were ascending to heaven. His holy relics bore no wound, only his right leg was slightly scratched by a piece of wood. Having lifted the saint from the pile of stones, the brethren laid him on the bier and, calling themselves wretched, all wept inconsolably for him, for in him they had lost a skilled steward, a quick and wise physician, and a kind father. His body remained unburied for three days, so that monks from all over the Holy Mountain could gather to perform the appropriate funeral psalmody over him. During these three days, to everyone's amazement, it neither swelled nor turned black, nor emitted its usual stench—it had not changed at all. When everyone from the Holy Mountain had gathered and chanted over it, a striking phenomenon was observed: fresh blood was flowing from its wounded leg. And not only was this miracle accomplished, that the three-day-dead man should bleed freshly—at that very hour, his face also became glorious, becoming unusually comely and white as snow. One elder wiped away this blood with his veil, and it flowed even more: so everyone began to take it and anoint themselves with it, for the sanctification of soul and body. Finally, this much-victorious holy body, the vessel of the All-Holy Spirit, was reverently and reverently buried. When the other six brothers were removed from under the stones, the bodies of five of them were found to be completely crushed and reverently buried even before the burial of the saint; The builder Daniel, a spiritual and virtuous man, despite being severely wounded, remained alive for several more days. During this time, he told everyone that on the night before the saint's death, he had seen a wondrous vision—that the king had sent a man for Athanasius. "Athanasius took six more with him, including me," Daniel said. "When we reached the royal chambers, the saint entered with the other five, and I remained outside the doors, weeping. Then someone said to me from inside:
- You cry in vain and uselessly; it is impossible for you to enter here until Athanasius takes you.
After this, I wept bitterly and saw my sweetest father coming toward me, who, taking me by the hand, went with me to the king, and I was granted to bow to him reverently there. The deed also occurred in accordance with this vision: the saint departed to the Heavenly King, first with his five brothers, and then with him the pious founder Daniel. Thus was Saint Athanasius' flock left orphaned! Let no one think that such a death was unfortunate; on the contrary, "the death of the saints," according to Scripture, is always "precious in the sight of the Lord" ( Psalm 115:6 ). It obtained from God for this saint of God a crown of martyrdom, beyond that of a saint. The saint himself was not unaware of this, as we can see from his actions before his death, as described above. Moreover, clearly foreseeing it in spirit, some time before his holy death, he said to his disciple Anthony: "I beg you to complete the journey that lies before us to Constantinople alone, for by the will of the Heavenly King, I shall no longer be able to see the earthly king." Before his death, Athanasius, having in mind certain monastic needs, indeed made his way to the king. The saint's death occurred in 980.
Let us now briefly recount some of the saint's miracles, which he performed even after his death. After the saint's death, a virtuous monk named Eustratius became the abbot of the Lavra. He suffered from an unbearable kidney ailment, urinating blood with difficulty and indescribable pain. He suffered for seven years, and after trying the remedies of many doctors, even those in the capital, to no avail, he finally renounced all human healing, placed all his trust in God, and prayed to his venerable father for healing. His prayer was heard by God: having recourse to Athanasius, that powerful, unpaid, and quick-to-help physician, he was immediately healed. One night, the saint appeared to him in a dream and, handing him a vessel of some kind of drink, commanded him to drink it all. Eustratius, having refused all medical treatment and considering the vial given to him to be mere medicine, was reluctant to accept it or drink it. But hearing a sweet paternal voice say, "Fear not, my child, drink: this will be good for your health," he obeyed. Awakening and seeing the natural flow of urine, he glorified God and thanked the saint, and told everyone of this great miracle.
A certain monk was tormented by a fierce demon. The unfortunate man, coming to the saint's tomb, anointed himself with oil from the lamp burning there. After this, the possessed man's insides immediately became agitated, and he, vomiting blood mixed with some small animals, was thereby freed from the demon and went home, rejoicing and glorifying the Lord. Similarly, the blind son of a certain Athanasius, anointed with oil from the saint's lamp, received his sight, and a certain youth, anointed with oil from the same lamp with faith, was healed of leprosy.
Moreover, in Smyrna, a woman with an issue of blood, having drunk water with drops of his blood given to her by a monk of the Lavra who was there at the time, with faith and by invoking the name of Saint Athanasius, was completely healed of this serious illness. And at the Peucian harbor, a sailor, anointed with the saint's blood, brought there by the Lavra monks George and Simeon, rose from his deathbed, where he had lain motionless and speechless for eight days.
"What boldness the saint possesses before Christ, the Master and King of all creation, is fully demonstrated by what we have written," says the biographer of Saint Athanasius. He who can count the stars in the sky or the sands of the sea could only recount the countless miracles of the saint. Therefore, having given glory and honor to the all-wise and all-powerful God, wondrous in all the saints as well as in Saint Athanasius, let us conclude our story. By the prayers of our venerable father Athanasius and all the saints, may we all be preserved blameless, so that we may be delivered from eternal torment and receive eternal bliss in Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen.