Following the Flame, Part X: From Ruins to Hope

The years passed quietly.
One by one, the older monks fell asleep in the Lord. Only my Elder, Elder Ioasaph, remained. Living beside him day after day was itself a school of monastic life. His simplicity, his steadfastness, his unwavering trust in God, and even his grumpy times continued to shape all of us.
During the latter half of the 1990s, new brothers began arriving. The first was the man who is still with me today, Monk Simeon. Others followed, and by 1999 our little brotherhood had grown to eight monastics. We were poor in material things, but rich in hope. It seemed that God was blessing the small hesychasterion with new life.
Then came the earthquake of 1999.
The great earthquake centered on Mount Parnitha (the very place our old monastery was located) severely damaged our monastery. It soon became clear that rebuilding there would not be possible. There were many obstacles, including unresolved legal and administrative difficulties that had existed for years. Among them were the complications surrounding my elder’s status after leaving Mount Athos and the restrictions imposed by the forestry authorities.
What at first appeared to be a disaster became, by God’s providence, the beginning of a new chapter.
That same year we began building the monastery where we live today.
Those first years were unforgettable.
Eight monks lived together in only two small rooms. There was almost no comfort, very little privacy, and an endless amount of work. Every stone that was laid represented sacrifice. Every improvement required patience. Nothing came easily.
As time passed, however, the brotherhood became smaller. One by one, all of the monks except one departed from the brotherhood, not willing to work on building something new. Monastic life is a narrow path, and not everyone is able to persevere. Those departures saddened us deeply, and we prayed that God would guide each of them according to His mercy.
Those of us who remained simply continued.
For nearly three years we labored without ceasing. We built with our own hands whenever possible. To support the monastery, we produced handicrafts and traveled to fairs to sell them. We were on the go both day and night. All this together with the monastic cycle of services. Whatever we earned was invested back into the work. There were no wealthy benefactors waiting to provide what we needed. God asked us to build patiently, one step at a time.
At the same time, the work of prayer never ceased.
Our days and nights revolved around the divine services. We struggled to preserve the traditional monastic rhythm that Elder Ioasaph had handed down to us. Work and prayer were never separated; each gave meaning to the other.
Then, in 2001, while (unbelievably) on a trip to the United States, despite being over one hundred years of age, Elder Ioasaph reposed in the Lord.
The monastery continued to rise, stone by stone.
More importantly, we learned that the true foundation of a monastery is not its buildings but the perseverance of those who remain faithful through hardship. This is the real test of a monastic.
The flame that had first called me from America now burned within the walls of a monastery that had been built through prayer, sacrifice, and the mercy of God.