Osios David on Evia and St. Basil

Leaving St John the Russian behind, we set our sights towards another monastery north of us and in the direction of the ferry which would take us across to Glifa. This was the monastery of Osios David (Holy David). He was a local boy who spent some time as a monk on the Peleponnesse and returned to Evia fleeing the persecutions of the Turks. He established a cell here which soon grew to a monastery, from people drawn to him by his love, mercy, and devotion. He had retired to a cave to pursue his more solitary and ascetic life while the monastery flourished below him.

We had a long talk about ascetics and asceticism in Orthodox Christianity. I likened it to my own father’s recent exercises to get in shape for the half-marathon he just completed. We can say that Dad “likes to walk” and certainly pushed himself in his training prior to this particular large event. But when he first rises in the morning, or is cimbing an arduous hill, probably part of him is not so enthused about it. His legs may be tired; he may prefer to sleep in a little more. Yet he pushes himself to do it, and is glad when it’s over, all for a greater purpose. And yes, there is certainly an enjoyment that he finds in it, and an appreciation that grows with every block of this good habit being built.

It is the same for the monks and nuns in their ascetic labors. They practice a rule of prayer, and fast, and do prostrations and sometimes physical labor as a way of exercising the spirit. All this interior work strengthens the muscles of the soul, in a way, bringing the pray-er closer to God, and closer to himself or herself also. Subtleties in the character surface: an unkind word here, a wasting of time there, an omission of a good act, losing one’s temper, or being frustrated over the way things are as opposed to the way one wants things to be – this is all the kind of labor the monk or nun is engaged in. And to whatever degree we are able, all Orthodox Christians also engage in it. This is one of the defining experiences of being Orthodox.

And why do the monks and nuns “flee the world” as so many suppose? Can this be right? In Catholic monasticism, one finds many different orders, and many of these are devoted to works of mercy or charity: teaching, nursing, offering hospitality, whereas there are no such disctinctions in Orthodox monasticism. They all exist for the life of prayer. Some are in highly-populated areas, but many are in remote areas. They all treasure the quiet and remoteness that allows them to enter more fully into the life of prayer. This is why so many saints have moved into areas that are difficult to travel to and inhospitable in terms of weather or terrain. Yet no matter where they are, people still seek them out, and in many cases a community of monks or nuns grows up around the person trying to be solitary.

There are some very profound writings by a contemporary ascetic named St. Silouan. He explains that the monk does not leave to world to flee people. He leaves the world in order to love people more deeply. By fully concentrating on the life of prayer, he is actually MORE engaged in the lives of people than he would be by living among them. And truly, when you meet some of these elders and eldresses and experience the intensity of their love for you and all people, you realize they understand something very deep that you cannot begin to grasp. At least, this has been my experience.

On our travels, I’ve also seen and re-realized that these places that have so many pilgrims, and sometimes tourists, visiting day after day are anything but solitary. These monks and nuns truly have a cross to bear in having people tramping through their living spaces every day, many of whom are ignorant of their way of life and not necessarily respectful of it. So even the monks who wish a solitary life rarely are able to have it for very long. And perhaps this, too, is all in God’s providence.

We left the heavily forested interior of Evia to wind down towards the western coast. We had promised the kids some time at the beach, but wanted to visit the monastery first. Turning off the main road, we followed a narrow pretty track back in about 15 minutes, passing a couple of very small, sleepy villages or neighborhoods. Finally, we were rewarded with a sight of the church up above us. We had especially wanted to come here for the relic of St. Basil the Great which they have.

First off we saw the running spring which Holy David had miraculously prayed for and received for the monastery. There was a beautiful granite engraving above it of Osios David. We passed through the gates into a lovely enclosure like all the other monasteries: a square of buildings with a church in the middle. We entered, and were captivated by the iconography. Even Emilia said: “It is so life-like!”

This iconographer, unlike many of the recognized masters throughout that last few hundred years, had a very distinctly different style. It departed in an intriguing way from the strictly Byzantine style, yet still maintained a completely traditional ethos throughout the church, both in terms of technique and composition.

The word that kept coming to my mind to describe the style was “painterly”, by which my teacher, Fr. Simon Doolan, would mean a certain confidence and intuition in the painter which allows him/her to work more quickly and loosely, creating a feeling of motion. In some ways, it seems as if the painter has caught someone perfectly in a candid shot, as opposed to old photos where the subject has been staged and is sitting perfectly still.

All the master iconographers have this element in their painting. Some schools emphasize great precision and detail, while others are painted more “loosely” with quicker strokes, and sometimes subtlely impressionistic elements. The painter of Osios David was a master at this second school. One feature I noticed very much was the eyes. Instead of the traditional Byzantine “formula” that one can trace in the vast majority of icons, he painted a much more naturalistic eye. The highlighting of the face, as well, was much more modeled than one usually sees. His style reminded me very much of the famous wax (encaustic) icon from Sinai of Christ with the two very different eyes. For me, it was a feast of iconography! I was so thankful that they allowed me to take photos as long as I didn’t use my flash. Many other churches will allow none at all.

Apart from the gloriously-decorated church, with every inch covered in frescoes, there was also a glass-sided wooden cupboard about 6 feet high, full of beautiful boxes and receptacles wrought in silver and gold which contained relics. Some were obviously skulls, with finely-carved details in silver closely wrapping a circular half-hemisphere. Others were boxes, large and small, with little icons and sometimes inscribed names on small plates on the sides. Every piece was unique and a little piece of art. All monasteries have such spiritual treasures, but they are not always out in the church for people to venerate. They are often kept in the altar and a particular relic may be brought out for a feast day or special occasion.

We spent quite a long time taking pictures and looking thoroughly at the hundreds of icons throughout the church while Grandma and the kids sat in the shady courtyard and had some of the Greek coffee and cookies left out for pilgrims. None of us really like the “Turkish Delight” offered to Edmund in the Narnian Chronicles; it is a kind of jelly-like soft candy, very sweet, sometimes tasting like rose, thoroughly doused with powdered sugar, and most of the monasteries offer it.

There was a very nice man at the candle stand whom I was able to communicate with pretty well. We wanted to ask the abbot if he could take the relics of St. Basil out for us to venerate. The glass case couldn’t be opened, so we weren’t able to kiss any of them directly, but wanted to do so with St. Basil, the namesake of our Basil, the brother of my saint, and the son of Emilia’s saint. He was one of the most brilliant men to ever live, and you can easily read about his fascinating life in many books and websites.

Unfortunately, it was the time of the early afternoon when the monks rest, with some monasteries closing down. Thankfully, this one remained open, but we couldn’t have the relics taken out for us. Christopher and I went back in, taking Basil, and prayed for awhile and kissed the glass case. I was quite moved. As we were leaving the church, the candlestand guy came after me and brought me back in the church so that he could point out which relic was St. Basil’s. It was one of the two skulls visible at eye level along the side of the case.

We went back in an prayed again. I didn't want to leave this place.