Hy eldest son Shepherd, who's patron is Abba Poemen, was gifted at his baptism an original icon of the saint. The icon depicts a monk sleeping with his head in the lap of Abba Poemen, taken from this saying:
Some old men went to Abba Poemen and asked, “If we see brothers sleeping during the common prayer, should we wake them?” Abba Poemen answered, “If I see my brother sleeping, I put his head on my knees and let him rest.” Then one old man spoke up, “And how do you explain yourself before God?” Abba Poemen replied, “I say to God: You have said, ‘First take the beam out of your own eye and then you will be able to remove the splinter from the eye of your brother.’ ”
One day some old men came to see Abba Anthony. In the midst of them was Abba Joseph. Wanting to test them, the old man suggested a text from the Scriptures, and, beginning with the youngest, he asked them what it meant. Each gave his opinion as he was able. But to each one the old man said, “You have not understood it.” Last of all he said to Abba Joseph, “How would you explain this saying?” and he replied, “I do not know.” Then Abba Anthony said, “Indeed, Abba Joseph has found the way, for he has said: ‘I do not know.'”
The one about the two monks who crossed to the other side of the road to avoid temptation from the two nuns, and the Mother says to the Father's, if you were true monks, you wouldn't have even noticed we were women.
I'm not on Facebook messenger anymore, but if you'll email me, I wanted to tell you how your previous story here impacted me. refincher6@gmail.com
St. Gabriel of Georgia. The story of when he saved the alcoholic man from committing suicide.
A “rebel” in a beerhouse
The servant of God Revaz:
In the late 1980s my family was on the verge of ruin because of my chaotic life. There was not a single day when I didn’t drink alcohol. I also took to gambling. I lost my job and friends… My whole family suffered from that. Deep in my heart I realized what state I was in, but I was unable to control myself. Most likely I was already getting used to this kind of existence. I was told—and I myself remember—that I had lost my human appearance, everything around annoyed me, and at some point I began to feel as though I was unwanted. Back then I wasn’t seeking any spiritual refuge, and it didn’t occur to me to go to church since I didn’t take the clergy seriously.
This would have gone on for years if one fine evening Elder Gabriel had not gone to the beerhouse where I, drinking another glass of beer, was preparing a reckless act. Yes, dear friends, your eyes haven’t deceived you: Elder Gabriel was there!
This is how it happened. Amidst a great noise, I heard the clear, loud, angry voice of a man demanding that beer and vodka be poured into the largest glass—otherwise “his heart would break”, and “he would pay any sum.” “I have money, parishioners have donated it!” the man repeated in a thunderous voice behind me, with people laughing and looking at each other contemptuously. At that time I didn’t know the meaning of the word “parishioners”; in addition, I was sitting with my back to the man speaking, not really interested in who he was. I remember one thing for sure: I imagined the man as a tall, coolly dressed “rebel” who, like me, was drowning his sorrow in wine. The voice wouldn’t stop, sounds of swallowing and some screams could be heard... And all of a sudden the “rebel” began to sing a Georgian song, and so beautifully that I turned involuntarily and saw a shortish, gray-haired priest in rags in the middle of the beerhouse. Spreading his arms, as if he were drunk, he was making dancing movements in time with the words of the song.
The whole beerhouse fell silent and was staring at him. And he was gazing at me with his big, extraordinary eyes. At some point he drew close to me, looked right into my eyes and said: “Revaz, burn what you have here, in your pocket!” He hit me on the chest in a showy way, raised his hands to heaven, and made the sign of the cross over me in a split second.
It happened so quickly that the visitors didn’t even notice that, and many, including myself, thought that the sign of the cross was some kind of dancing movement. Soon the elder finished his dance and went outside—to applause and comments: “Such a nice person… Well done, father! Wow!”
I was standing, dumbfounded, with tears in my eyes. I wasn’t crying because I had at once understood the meaning of the elder’s actions—I was crying because his words struck me like a surge of electricity, and I wondered how he could know what was in my pocket. And what I had in my pocket was a suicide note, written a few hours before, in which I said good-bye to my family. I was about to commit a terrible, irreparable act. But Elder Gabriel came by the will of God and made such a show especially for me!
The most amazing thing was that from the next day on I didn’t want to hear about gambling anymore, and I gave up alcohol along with the disordered lifestyle I had led for years.
I regret having been unable to find that priest in Tbilisi. I asked many people and heard the same answer everywhere: he was a “madman who didn’t always appear.” Soon I converted to God and began to go to church. Only a few years later, when my family and I travelled to Mtskheta and visited Samtavro Convent, on one grave where people were crowding, on a large photograph I saw the very man who had saved me and sobered me up. I was standing rooted to the spot, and tears welled up in my eyes. The elder was smiling to me from the photograph, and I smiled to him in response after he had given me a wink from the portrait… As if he were asking me with humor: “Well, Revaz, you’re here. You’ve come to the ‘rebel’, to Elder Archimandrite Gabriel (Urgebadze)?...” To the dear father who is loved throughout the world of Orthodoxy, who saves and will save many people by his love.
Hy eldest son Shepherd, who's patron is Abba Poemen, was gifted at his baptism an original icon of the saint. The icon depicts a monk sleeping with his head in the lap of Abba Poemen, taken from this saying:
Some old men went to Abba Poemen and asked, “If we see brothers sleeping during the common prayer, should we wake them?” Abba Poemen answered, “If I see my brother sleeping, I put his head on my knees and let him rest.” Then one old man spoke up, “And how do you explain yourself before God?” Abba Poemen replied, “I say to God: You have said, ‘First take the beam out of your own eye and then you will be able to remove the splinter from the eye of your brother.’ ”
Thank you!
St. Sisoes the Great and St. Moses the Black!
I'm definitely planning on St. Moses, what St. Sisoes story?
St. Macarius telling a monk to go to the cemetary and yell abuses at the dead, then to go and praise them.
YES!!!!! Thank you!
One day some old men came to see Abba Anthony. In the midst of them was Abba Joseph. Wanting to test them, the old man suggested a text from the Scriptures, and, beginning with the youngest, he asked them what it meant. Each gave his opinion as he was able. But to each one the old man said, “You have not understood it.” Last of all he said to Abba Joseph, “How would you explain this saying?” and he replied, “I do not know.” Then Abba Anthony said, “Indeed, Abba Joseph has found the way, for he has said: ‘I do not know.'”
I love this one! Thanks!
St Anthony and the shoemaker in Alexandria. My personal fave.
The one about the two monks who crossed to the other side of the road to avoid temptation from the two nuns, and the Mother says to the Father's, if you were true monks, you wouldn't have even noticed we were women.
I'm not on Facebook messenger anymore, but if you'll email me, I wanted to tell you how your previous story here impacted me. refincher6@gmail.com
Ah! I had forgotten that one! Thank you!
No jack chick vibs at all. :)
Dang... I need to step up my game! LOL!
This is beautiful. Thank you.
St. Gabriel of Georgia. The story of when he saved the alcoholic man from committing suicide.
A “rebel” in a beerhouse
The servant of God Revaz:
In the late 1980s my family was on the verge of ruin because of my chaotic life. There was not a single day when I didn’t drink alcohol. I also took to gambling. I lost my job and friends… My whole family suffered from that. Deep in my heart I realized what state I was in, but I was unable to control myself. Most likely I was already getting used to this kind of existence. I was told—and I myself remember—that I had lost my human appearance, everything around annoyed me, and at some point I began to feel as though I was unwanted. Back then I wasn’t seeking any spiritual refuge, and it didn’t occur to me to go to church since I didn’t take the clergy seriously.
This would have gone on for years if one fine evening Elder Gabriel had not gone to the beerhouse where I, drinking another glass of beer, was preparing a reckless act. Yes, dear friends, your eyes haven’t deceived you: Elder Gabriel was there!
This is how it happened. Amidst a great noise, I heard the clear, loud, angry voice of a man demanding that beer and vodka be poured into the largest glass—otherwise “his heart would break”, and “he would pay any sum.” “I have money, parishioners have donated it!” the man repeated in a thunderous voice behind me, with people laughing and looking at each other contemptuously. At that time I didn’t know the meaning of the word “parishioners”; in addition, I was sitting with my back to the man speaking, not really interested in who he was. I remember one thing for sure: I imagined the man as a tall, coolly dressed “rebel” who, like me, was drowning his sorrow in wine. The voice wouldn’t stop, sounds of swallowing and some screams could be heard... And all of a sudden the “rebel” began to sing a Georgian song, and so beautifully that I turned involuntarily and saw a shortish, gray-haired priest in rags in the middle of the beerhouse. Spreading his arms, as if he were drunk, he was making dancing movements in time with the words of the song.
The whole beerhouse fell silent and was staring at him. And he was gazing at me with his big, extraordinary eyes. At some point he drew close to me, looked right into my eyes and said: “Revaz, burn what you have here, in your pocket!” He hit me on the chest in a showy way, raised his hands to heaven, and made the sign of the cross over me in a split second.
It happened so quickly that the visitors didn’t even notice that, and many, including myself, thought that the sign of the cross was some kind of dancing movement. Soon the elder finished his dance and went outside—to applause and comments: “Such a nice person… Well done, father! Wow!”
I was standing, dumbfounded, with tears in my eyes. I wasn’t crying because I had at once understood the meaning of the elder’s actions—I was crying because his words struck me like a surge of electricity, and I wondered how he could know what was in my pocket. And what I had in my pocket was a suicide note, written a few hours before, in which I said good-bye to my family. I was about to commit a terrible, irreparable act. But Elder Gabriel came by the will of God and made such a show especially for me!
The most amazing thing was that from the next day on I didn’t want to hear about gambling anymore, and I gave up alcohol along with the disordered lifestyle I had led for years.
I regret having been unable to find that priest in Tbilisi. I asked many people and heard the same answer everywhere: he was a “madman who didn’t always appear.” Soon I converted to God and began to go to church. Only a few years later, when my family and I travelled to Mtskheta and visited Samtavro Convent, on one grave where people were crowding, on a large photograph I saw the very man who had saved me and sobered me up. I was standing rooted to the spot, and tears welled up in my eyes. The elder was smiling to me from the photograph, and I smiled to him in response after he had given me a wink from the portrait… As if he were asking me with humor: “Well, Revaz, you’re here. You’ve come to the ‘rebel’, to Elder Archimandrite Gabriel (Urgebadze)?...” To the dear father who is loved throughout the world of Orthodoxy, who saves and will save many people by his love.