Read his beautiful life entry from the writings of St. Dimitri
of Rostov. Here is an example of a truly merciful and generous man to the
glory of God!
"Blessed are the
merciful, for they shall obtain mercy," said the Lord; therefore, the
blessed Philaret the Almsgiver, who was most merciful to the poor, was deemed
worthy by God of abundant mercy. He obtained a rich reward both in this life
and that beyond the grave, as we shall learn from the present account.
Saint Philaret lived in the
village of Amneia in Paphlagonia. He was born in Galatia to noble parents named
George and Anna. Instructed by them from childhood in piety and the fear of the
Lord, as a youth Philaret was chaste and adorned with every virtue. Reaching
manhood, he married an honorable, well-born, and rich woman named Theoseva, who
brought with her a considerable dowry. The couple had three children: a son,
John, their firstborn, and two daughters, Hypatia and Evanthia. God blessed the
righteous Philaret, as He once did Job, multiplying his wealth. Philaret was
the owner of large flocks, villages, and fruitful vineyards, and had an
abundance of all things. His treasure chests were full, and he had in his house
a multitude of servants. Philaret was regarded as one of the greatest nobles of
that land. Yet, while the blessed one enjoyed prosperity, he saw that many others
lived in the utmost poverty. Moved by compassion, he said to himself with
contrition of heart, "Can it be that I have received such blessings from
the Lord, only that I may eat and be satisfied, pleasing my belly? Should I not
share the great riches God has bestowed upon me, dividing them among the poor,
widows, orphans, strangers, and beggars whom the Lord will not be ashamed
before angels and men to call His brothers at the dread judgment, saying,
Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have
done it unto Me? Of what benefit shall my belongings be to me on the day of
recompense if I greedily refuse to share them? On that day He shall have
judgment without mercy, that hath showed no mercy. Shall my wealth provide me with
everlasting food and drink in the age to come? Shall my soft garments serve to
clothe me for eternity? No, it cannot be, for the Apostle says, We brought
nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. Therefore,
if we can take none of our earthly possessions with us, it is better to loan
them to God, entrusting them into the hands of the poor. God will never forsake
me, my wife, or my children. Of this the prophet David assures me, saying, I
have been young, and now indeed am old, and I have not seen the righteous man
forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.
Reasoning thus, the blessed
Philaret began to show mercy to the poor, treating them as a father would his
children. He fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, clothed the naked, and
accepted strangers into his home, offering them warm hospitality. This
righteous man became like Abraham of old, who was always ready to entertain
strangers, and Lot, who loved the poor. Such a light, which burned brightly
with the oil of compassion, could not be hid beneath a bushel, and his fame
spread throughout the land. Philaret became known to all, like a city set on a
hill. Those in poverty made haste to flee to him as to a city of refuge; and
whoever requested oxen, horses, asses, clothing, food, or anything else found
him ready to show compassion. Then God, Who loves mankind, permitted temptation
to befall this righteous man, as He once tried His favorite, Job. Philaret’s
patience was proven, and the saint was purified like gold in a furnace and
found worthy of eternal blessings. The Lord caused Philaret’s wealth to
dwindle, but he did not cease to feel compassion for the poor and to show mercy
on them, always giving whatever he could to those who asked of him.
At that time God allowed
the Ishmaelites to ravage the country where Philaret lived. Like a whirlwind
sweeping through a grove of trees or a fire burning upon a mountain, they
passed through the land, laying it waste and taking captive its inhabitants, to
whom they did much evil. They took nearly all the animals and slaves belonging
to the blessed Philaret, leaving him only a single pair of oxen, a cow, a
horse, one manservant, and one maidservant. Furthermore, the wealthy landowners
who lived nearby gained possession of his villages, orchards, and fields, in
some instances by force, and in others, by appealing to his liberality. Again,
only a single field and the house in which he lived were left to the blessed
one, but even as he endured poverty and injustice, this good man never complained
or became downcast. Like a second Job, He sinned not, neither charged God
foolishly. He rejoiced in penury as another man would in great wealth, because
he understood that it is easier for one who is poor to enter the kingdom than
for a rich man, according to the word of the Lord: A rich man shall hardly
enter into the kingdom of heaven.
One day, the blessed
Philaret took his oxen out to plow the field that remained. As he labored, he
praised God and joyfully gave thanks to the Lord for permitting him to live by
the sweat of his brow, in accordance with the divine and holy commandment, in
this way escaping idleness and sloth, those teachers of every evil. He recalled
the words of the Apostle, who declared, If any would not work, neither should
he eat. At the same time a peasant was plowing nearby. Suddenly one of his oxen
began to tremble violently, then fell to the ground and died. The man was cast
into sorrow and wept bitterly, because the ox was not his, but was borrowed
from a neighbor. Then he remembered the blessed Philaret and said, "If
only that merciful man had not fallen into poverty, I would go to him, and he
would not give me a single ox, but a pair. Now, however, he has nothing to give
those who ask; nevertheless, I will share my sorrow with him. Perhaps he will
say something to console me, and ease my burden."
Taking up his staff, the
peasant went to Philaret’s house. Finding the saint toiling in his field, the
villager fell down before him and related with tears in his eyes how the ox had
died unexpectedly. The blessed Philaret saw how deeply the man was grieved, and
straightway unyoking one of his oxen, said, "Brother, take my ox, plow
your field, and give thanks to God."
The peasant bowed down
before the blessed one and thanked him for the gift, saying, "Truly, your
decision is wondrous and noble, my lord, and your kindness pleasing to God!
However, it is not good for the ox to be separated from its companion, since
they are accustomed to work together. Each will find it difficult to be alone."
"Take the ox, brother,
and go in peace. I have another at home," said the righteous one.
The peasant bowed again
before the blessed one and departed, praising God and his merciful benefactor.
Taking the yoke upon his shoulders, the honorable Philaret returned with the
remaining ox to his house. As he approached, his wife caught sight of him and
asked, "Where is the other ox, my lord?"
Philaret replied,
"While I was resting from my labors, I loosed the oxen, to allow them to
graze. One of them wandered off and became lost, or perhaps someone took
it."
Hearing this, Philaret’s
wife became very upset and immediately sent her son out to search for the ox.
The young man walked until he finally came upon it, yoked with that of the
peasant, to whom he cried angrily, "Wicked man! How dare you yoke this ox
with yours? Where did you find it? Is this not my father’s beast? Like a wolf,
you snatched him away and made him your own. If you do not return him to me, I
will have you punished as a thief by the authorities!"
"Do not be angry with
me, child," answered the peasant in a meek voice. "You are the son of
a holy man; do not stretch forth your hand against me, for I have done you no
evil. Your father had compassion on me, seeing my poverty and misfortune, and willingly
gave me his ox, because one of my oxen perished unexpectedly while it was
working."
Philaret’s son was filled
with shame because he had reproached an innocent man. He hurried back home and
told his mother what he had learned. She cried out with tears, "Woe is me!
Woe is me, the wife of a heartless man!" Then, tearing her hair, she ran
to her husband, shrieking and wailing, "You inhuman, hard-hearted man! Why
do you wish to destroy us with hunger? We have lost almost all our possessions
because of our sins, and it was only by God’s mercy that two oxen were left us,
so that we could feed our children. You are accustomed to wealth and have never
labored with your hands, and now, indolent as you are, you intend to remain
lying about the house. It was not for God’s sake that you gave away the ox, but
for your own, in the hope that you might escape the labor of plowing and
instead pass the remainder of your days in idleness. What answer shall you give
to the Lord when your children and I perish because of your laziness?"
The blessed Philaret looked
at her and said meekly, "Hear what God, Who is rich in mercy, commands us:
Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather
into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Shall He not then feed us,
who are much better than fowl? He promises to reward a hundredfold those who
give their possessions to the poor for His sake and the Gospel’s. Consider,
woman: if for one ox we shall be given a hundred, why should we grieve for the
ox I gave away for the Lord’s sake?" The compassionate man said this not
because he hoped to be rewarded a hundredfold in this life, but to quiet his
fainthearted wife. And indeed, when the woman heard these wise words, she fell
silent.
Not five days had passed
when the ox that the blessed Philaret had given the peasant ate a deadly plant
called hellebore and perished. Not knowing what else to do, the peasant
returned to Philaret, fell down before him, and said, "My lord, I have
sinned before you and your children by separating your oxen. For this reason
the righteous God has prevented me from gaining any benefit from the use of
your ox, which ate a poisonous plant and perished."
The blessed Philaret made
no reply, but instead brought his remaining ox. Giving it to the villager, he
said, "Take this ox, brother. I intend to travel to a faraway country and
do not wish that my ox, which is accustomed to work, should stand idle."
The blessed one said this
so that the man would accept his gift. As he led the beast away, the peasant
marveled at the saint’s great compassion; but when these things became known at
Philaret’s house, his children wailed with their mother, "Our father has
no love or mercy for us and has squandered everything we own. God left us a
single pair of oxen to save us from starvation, and even this he gave away!"
Philaret replied,
"Why, my children, do you lament? Do you wish to break my heart? Why do
you call me merciless and think that I intend to see you die of hunger? In a
place unknown to you I have such a treasure that even if you should live in
idleness to the age of a hundred, it would provide for all your needs. I myself
am unable to set a value on the things I have stored up for you." Saying
this, the righteous man did not deceive his children, because he foresaw with
spiritual vision what would come to pass.
Shortly afterwards an
imperial decree was published in the land ordering all troops to assemble in
their regiments to meet the godless pagans attacking the Greek Empire. Every
soldier was commanded to appear fully armed, with two horses. Among those summoned
to battle was a man named Mousoulius. He had fallen into poverty and had only
one horse, which stumbled into a chasm and perished just a day before he was
due to depart with his regiment. Having no money with which to purchase another
horse, the soldier went to the blessed Philaret and pleaded, "Have mercy,
my lord Philaret! I know that hard times have befallen you and you have been
left with only a single horse, but for the Lord’s sake give him to me.
Otherwise, my commander will have me flogged!"
"Take the horse,
brother," said Philaret, "and go in peace. I give him to you for
God’s sake."
The soldier departed with
the saint’s horse, glorifying God. By now there remained to Philaret only a cow
and its calf, an ass, and a few beehives. Then a poor man who had heard of the
merciful one came to him from afar, and entreated him, "My lord! Give me
as a blessing a calf from your herds. I have been told that whoever receives a
gift from you becomes wealthy."
The holy Philaret gladly
brought the calf and gave it to the man, saying, "May God bless you
abundantly, brother, and grant you everything you need."
The man bowed down before
Philaret and departed. Meanwhile, the cow began to look about for the calf.
Unable to find it, she bellowed loudly in sorrow, moving Philaret’s entire
household to pity. His wife was especially grieved, and lamented, "Who can
endure this insanity? Who would not laugh at your foolishness? I see clearly
today that you do not love me in the least and that you wish your children to
die of hunger. You do not even feel pity for a dumb beast and have taken the
calf from our cow when she was still feeding it. Whom do you think you have
helped by doing such a thing? You have impoverished us still further and done
nothing for the man to whom you gave the calf. Without its mother it will die,
and the cow will continue to grieve and bellow. No one will benefit from what
you have done."
The honorable Philaret
answered his wife in a mild voice, "What you say is true, woman. It was
cruel of me to separate the calf from its mother. I shall find a way to undo
the wrong." Thereupon he hurried to overtake the man to whom he had given
the calf, and catching sight of him, cried, "Come back with the calf, man,
for its mother gives us no peace and stands bellowing at our door!"
Hearing this, the poor man
was certain that Philaret wished to take back the calf, and said to himself
sorrowfully, "Woe is me! I am unworthy to receive as a blessing from this
righteous man even a little calf!"
As the man was returning,
the calf caught sight of its mother and ran toward her. The cow also saw her
calf and hurried toward it, calling loudly. When the calf reached its mother,
it straightway began to take her milk, remaining for a long time sucking at her
teats. Theoseva, Philaret’s wife, saw the calf return home, and this made her
very pleased. Meanwhile, Philaret, seeing the poor man grieving, said to him,
"Brother, my wife says that I have sinned by parting the calf from its
mother, and this is true, so take the mother with the calf and go with the
Lord’s blessing. May He multiply your herds, as He once did mine." The man
took the cow and its calf and departed, rejoicing. God indeed blessed his house
for the sake of His favorite, Philaret, and he came to possess two large herds
of cattle.
Shortly thereafter, famine
struck the land. Reduced to the utmost poverty, Philaret had no money left to
buy food for his wife and children. Saddling his one remaining ass, he traveled
to another part of the country, where a friend of his lived. Philaret borrowed
six measures of wheat, which he loaded on the donkey. Then he set off happily
on his homeward journey.
As Philaret was resting
after his return, a poor man came to the door begging a basket of wheat. The
worthy emulator of Abraham went to his wife, who at that moment was sowing some
of the wheat, and said to her, "Woman, I would like to give this poor
brother a measure of wheat."
"Let me, your
children, and the servants each take a measure of wheat first, that we may eat
our fill. Then you may give what remains to whomever you wish," she
replied.
Philaret laughed at her and
asked, "Do I not also need a portion?"
"You are an angel, not
a man," said Theoseva, "and have no need of food. If you required
food, you would not be so anxious to give away what you have."
The saint nevertheless took
two measures of wheat and gave them to the poor man. Seeing this, his wife was
unable to restrain herself and cried out angrily, "Give him a third
measure! You have enough and to spare!" The blessed Philaret took a third
measure, gave it to the poor man, and sent him on his way. His grieving wife
took the remaining wheat and divided it with her children. Soon, however, the
wheat was gone and they were hungry. Theoseva then went to one of her neighbors
and begged half a loaf of bread. She also gathered some goosefoot, which she
boiled and served her children with the bread. She shared in the children’s
meal, but did not call her husband to the table.
A rich man who had long
been a friend of the blessed Philaret heard of the terrible poverty into which
the saint had fallen and sent him four cartloads of wheat. Each consisted of
ten measures of grain. He also sent Philaret this message: "Beloved
brother, I have sent forty measures of wheat for you and your household. When
it has been consumed, I will send the same quantity to you again. Pray to the
Lord for me!"
The blessed one fell to the
ground, lifted up his hands and eyes unto heaven, and praised God, saying,
"I thank Thee, O Lord my God, for Thou hast not forsaken Thy servant, nor
hast Thou disdained him who hopeth in Thee!"
Seeing that God had shown
mercy on them, Philaret’s wife ceased to lament, and said to her husband,
"My lord, give me and the children our portion of the wheat, and pay back
our neighbors what we have taken from them. As for your portion, do with it as
you wish."
Philaret did as his wife
said and divided the grain, taking as his portion five measures, which he
divided within two days among the poor. Again his wife became angry, and not
wishing to sit at table with him, ate instead with her children when he was not
present. Once it happened that the blessed Philaret came upon them as they were
eating, and said, "Children, permit me to share your table, if not as your
father, then at least as a guest or stranger."
They laughed at him, but
allowed him to sit down. As they were eating, Theoseva asked, "My lord
Philaret, when will you show us the treasure which you told us you have hidden?
Did you say this to mock us, teasing us like foolish little children with false
promises? If what you said is true, show us the treasure. We shall take it, buy
food, and eat together as before."
"Wait a little,"
said the blessed one, "and a rich treasure will indeed be revealed to
you."
Philaret was finally
reduced to such poverty that he possessed nothing but his hives. If a beggar
came to him and he had neither bread nor anything else to give him, the saint
would go to his hives and bring the poor man honey. The family continued to eat
the honey, but soon it became apparent to the servants that they would be left
even without this, so they secretly went to the beehives to collect what
remained. They found only a single comb, which they took for themselves. The
next morning a pauper came begging alms of the godly one. Philaret went to the
last hive, but found it empty. Having nothing else to give the man, he removed
his outer robe and put it on him. When he returned home, clad in a single
garment, his wife demanded, "Where is your robe? Did you give it to that
beggar?"
"I went to the
beehives and left it there," Philaret replied.
His son then went to the
hives and searched for the robe. He told his mother that he did not find it.
Unable to bear the sight of her husband clothed only in an undergarment, she
draped her own robe over him so that the folds fell in a way befitting a man.
At that time the scepter of
the Greek Empire was in the hands of the Christ-loving Empress Irene and her
son Constantine. Since Constantine had reached a marriageable age, wise
noblemen were sent to every province of the realm to search for a fair, highborn
maiden of honorable demeanor who would make a worthy bride for him. Zealous to
fulfill the imperial command, the men entrusted with this task tirelessly
passed through town and country, stopping even in mean hamlets. As they were
approaching Amneia in Paphlagonia, they caught sight of Philaret’s house, for
it was the most eminent structure in the village and obviously the home of a
nobleman. They ordered their servants to go ahead to prepare for them a meal
and a place to sleep at the saint’s house, but one of the soldiers accompanying
them said, "Do not go to that house, my lords. Although it is large and
beautiful, it is empty. We shall find nothing to eat there, because the old man
who lives in it is more generous to the poor than any man alive and has been
reduced to poverty."
The nobles did not believe
the soldier, and repeated their command. The blessed Philaret, the true lover
of strangers, saw the servants as they approached, and taking his staff, went
out to meet them. Bowing to the ground before them, he said joyfully, "My
lords, it is good that God has brought you to me, your servant. I count it a
great blessing to receive men such as you in my humble home." Then he
hurried back to his wife and said to her, "Theoseva, my lady, prepare a
fine supper. I am happy to tell you that noble guests have come to us from
afar."
"With what am I to
prepare a fine supper?" she grumbled. "There is not a lamb in our
wretched house, nor even a hen. I can only boil some of the goosefoot that we
ourselves eat, and that without oil. I can hardly remember when we last had
oil, or wine!"
"Do no more than
prepare the fire, my lady," Philaret said. "Make ready the upper
chamber, and wash down and polish our old ivory table. God, Who giveth food to
all flesh, will provide the supper."
Theoseva did as her husband
told her. Meanwhile, Philaret’s wealthier neighbors learned that noblemen sent
by the Emperor had come to his house, and they brought the righteous one sheep,
lambs, hens, doves, wine, bread, and other foodstuffs befitting such guests.
Theoseva took these things and prepared a rich banquet. Entering the upper
room, the guests were amazed to see a beautiful round ivory table, adorned with
silver, standing in the middle of a magnificent room; but they especially marveled
at the abundant hospitality of their host, who in appearance and manner was
like a second Abraham. While sitting at table, they saw that John, the blessed
elder’s son, closely resembled his father. They also noticed that Philaret’s
grandchildren, who brought food and carried away plates, conducted themselves
in a proper manner. They asked the blessed one, "Tell us, O honorable man,
do you have a wife?"
"I do, my lords,"
he replied, "and this is my son and these my grandsons who stand before
you."
"Bid your wife come
here to meet us," said the Emperor’s men. When Theoseva appeared, they saw
that although not young, she was still a handsome woman, and asked, "Do
you have any daughters?"
Philaret answered, "I
have two, and the elder has three daughters herself."
The men said, "Bring
them here. We have been commissioned to travel throughout the Empire to find a
beautiful maiden worthy to marry the Emperor."
"You will not find
such a maiden here, my lords," said Philaret, "for we are your
slaves, poor, insignificant people. Nevertheless, eat now and drink what God
has provided; make merry, rest from your journey, and sleep, and in the morning
we shall see what the will of the Lord brings."
The nobles awoke at dawn
and called for the blessed Philaret. They said to him, "Sir, bring your
granddaughters to us. We wish to see them."
The saint answered,
"Let it be as you wish, my lords; but agree, if you will, to enter the
inner quarters of my home, because the maidens never leave them."
The men followed Philaret
into the rooms where the family lived. There they found the maidens, who
greeted them with respectful bows. Seeing that they were more beautiful than
any of the young women they had met elsewhere in the Empire, they were
delighted and exclaimed, "We thank God for having brought us to the end of
our search! Surely one of these virgins will become the bride of the Emperor,
for nowhere on earth can there be a maiden fairer than these."
Because the Emperor was
tall, their choice as his bride fell upon Mary, the blessed Philaret’s eldest
granddaughter, who was the tallest of the sisters. The Emperor’s men joyfully
set off for the Imperial City, accompanied by the maiden, her father and
mother, grandfather, and his entire household, thirty persons in all. They also
had with them ten other virgins they had chosen, among whom was the comely
daughter of the great nobleman Gerontius. While the party was traveling, the
chaste and virtuous Mary said to the other maidens, "Sisters, hearken to
my counsel! Since we are all being taken to the Emperor for the same purpose,
let us make a covenant between us. Only one can be chosen as the Emperor’s
consort, so may she whom the King of heaven deems worthy of this lofty rank
remember the others upon assuming the imperial dignity, and bestow on them her
favor and protection."
"Let it be known to
all of you," announced Gerontius’ daughter, "that it is I who shall
be selected as the Emperor’s bride. I surpass all of you in nobility, wealth,
beauty, and intelligence. You have no hope of being chosen. Your pretty faces
will not win you a place in the Emperor’s bed, for you are poor, baseborn,
ignorant wenches." Placing her hope in God and the prayers of her holy
grandfather, Mary remained silent while the foolish maiden spat out these proud
words.
When they arrived at the
imperial palace, the noblemen and their charges were announced, and Gerontius’
daughter was taken first before the imperial favorite Stauricius, who was
responsible for the administration of the palace. Stauricius questioned her,
and quickly perceiving that she was a haughty girl, declared, "You are
handsome enough, but not suited to be the Emperor’s wife." He gave her
gifts and sent her home. Thus the words of the Scriptures were fulfilled: Every
one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall
be exalted. Then Mary was taken before the Emperor, together with her mother,
grandfather, and the rest of the household. The Emperor, his mother the
Empress, and Stauricius were all impressed with the dignity and noble demeanor
of the entire family. They were also enchanted by the beauty of Mary’s face,
which bespoke of meekness, humility, and the fear of God. Such was Mary’s
modesty that as she stood before them, she blushed red as an apple, and her
eyes remained fixed downward, looking at the floor; therefore the Emperor was
smitten with love for her and took her as his betrothed. The middle sister was
pledged to an eminent patrician named Constanticius, and the youngest was sent
with numerous gifts to become the bride of the ruler of the Lombards, so that
peace might be established with that tribe. The wedding of Constantine to Mary
was celebrated with much delight by the Emperor himself, his nobles, all the
people, and the family of the blessed Philaret. During the festivities the
Emperor took the elder by the hand and kissed his honorable head. He praised
Philaret, his wife, and the members of his household for their piety, and
bestowed numerous gifts and honors upon them all. Among the presents were gold
and silver, precious stones, costly garments, and great mansions. After the
merrymaking was concluded, the Emperor demonstrated his esteem for the blessed one
by kissing him again. Then he permitted Philaret to depart to the magnificent
home he had given him.
Seeing the rich gifts they
had received, Philaret’s family and servants remembered that the blessed one
said a treasure had been hidden for them. Falling at his feet, they cried,
"Forgive us, O lord and master, for having sinned against you, foolishly
reproaching you for the generosity you always showed the poor. We now
understand the words of Scripture, Blessed is the man that hath understanding
for the poor man and the pauper, for everything that he gives to the poor, he
gives to God Who rewards him a hundredfold in the present age and grants him
life everlasting in that to come. It is because of your compassion for the poor
that God has shown mercy on you, and on us as well."
The elder lifted up his
hands to heaven and exclaimed, Blessed be the name of the Lord from henceforth
and for evermore! Then he said to his family, "Hearken to my counsel:
prepare a fine supper, and I shall request our King and Master to come with all
His nobles to dine with us."
"May it be as you
wish," they answered.
As the supper was being
prepared, the blessed one went out into the streets of the city and brought
back to his home all the paupers, lepers, blind, lame, aged, and maimed folk he
could find. In all, they numbered two hundred. Leaving them at the gates of the
house, he entered alone and said to his family, "Children, the King has
come with His nobles. Is everything ready?"
"Everything is
prepared," they replied.
The blessed one signaled to
those standing outside to enter. Some took their seat at the table; others he
commanded to recline on the floor. It was among the latter that Philaret took
his place. His family understood that in speaking of the King, he meant Christ
our God Himself, Who had entered their house with the poor. By the King’s
nobles he meant all the poor brethren, whose prayers find great favor with God.
They marveled at his humility and were amazed that the grandfather of the
Empress had not forgotten his former generosity and did not disdain to recline
among paupers, whom he served like a slave. They said to him, "Verily, you
are a man of God, a true disciple of Christ, Who enjoined us: Learn of Me, for
I am meek and lowly in heart." The blessed one also requested his son
John, who had been appointed a member of the imperial bodyguard, and his
grandchildren to stand near the table and serve the brethren. Shortly
afterwards, Saint Philaret said, "Lo children, you have received from God
such riches as you never expected, despite the promise I made to you, hoping in
God. Tell me, therefore: what else do you consider that I owe you?"
Recalling his promise, they
began to weep, and lamented with one voice, "Truly, our lord, you are
God’s favorite and foresaw everything that has come to pass! How foolish we
were to have caused you such trouble in your old age! We beg you not to
remember the sins we committed in ignorance."
The blessed one answered,
"Children, merciful and compassionate is the Lord, Who rewards us a
hundredfold for the paltry alms we give to the poor in His name. Now I say, let
each one of you set aside ten gold coins for our poor brethren, if you wish to
inherit life eternal. The Lord will accept them as He did the two mites from
the widow." They gladly did as the saint had instructed. Meanwhile, he
continued feeding the poor, each of whom was given a gold piece and sent on his
way.
Not many days later, the
blessed Philaret called for his wife and children and said to them, "Our
Lord commanded us, Occupy till I come. I want you to purchase everything the
Emperor has given me, thus enabling me to obey Christ. If you refuse, I will
give everything I own directly to my brethren, the poor. I wish no more for
myself than to be called the Emperor’s grandfather."
The saint’s family decided
that his possessions were worth sixty pounds of gold, which was the amount they
gave him for them. The blessed one distributed what he received to the poor.
The Emperor and his nobles learned of this and were very pleased by Philaret’s
compassion and generosity to all who asked of him, and thenceforth they began
to entrust much gold to him so that he could pass it on to the needy.
The blessed one set out
three sacks, identical in appearance. One he filled with gold coins, another
with silver, the third with bronze coins. He once left all three with his
servant Callistus. A beggar came asking alms, and the saint told Callistus to
give him money from one of the sacks. When the servant asked him how he was to
know from which sack, the saint replied, "From whichever God commands. He
knows the needs of all, rich and poor, and fills every living thing with His
favor. It is the Lord Who guides the hand of the giver."
So saying, the righteous
one wished to point out that not all beggars are alike. Some were once wealthy,
and through adversity have lost their possessions and come to lack even daily
bread. Nevertheless, there still remain to them some of their fine clothes,
which they continue to wear to hide their shame at begging. Others wear rags,
but have a great deal of money concealed. These have learned that a fortune can
be made by begging, and are nothing but extortioners and idolaters. When the
blessed one himself gave alms, he would thrust his hand into one of the sacks
without looking to see which it was. Whatever he happened to draw out, copper,
silver, or gold, he gave to the beggar. "Many times," the honorable
man swore, calling upon God as his witness, "someone clothed in fine
garments would come to me, requesting alms, and I stretched out my hand to draw
copper coins, thinking that because he was well clothed, he was not really
poor; but it involuntarily took silver or gold, which I gave him. At other
times I was approached by a beggar in old, tattered clothing, and I intended to
give him a large sum of gold, but my hand was directed into one of the other
bags, and he received little. These things were ordained by Providence, for God
knows perfectly our needs."
After four years had
passed, the blessed Philaret returned to the palace to visit his granddaughter.
He wore neither a robe of purple nor a golden belt. Others had urged him to
dress in these, but he answered, "Leave me in peace. I thank my God and glorify
His great and wondrous name, because He has raised me up from the dunghill of
poverty and honored me with my present lofty estate, making me the grandfather
of an empress. This suffices for me."
Such was the blessed one’s
humility that he had no desire for rank or title, and wished only to be called
Philaret of Amneia. Finally, having spent his last years humbly distributing
alms, Philaret sensed the approach of his blessed end. Apprised by God of his
coming decease while still in good health, he secretly called for one of his
faithful servants and went with him to the convent called "Rodolfia,"
which was inhabited by virgin nuns of pure and honorable life. He gave to the
abbess a large quantity of gold for the convent, saying, "I will depart
this life in a few days and go to another world, where a different King reigns.
Say nothing of this to anyone, but bury my body in a new grave." He also
forbade his servant to speak of his coming death to anyone for the moment.
After distributing to the poor whatever he had in his possession, he returned
to the convent, where he fell ill and was given a bed. Nine days later he
called for his wife, children, and household, and addressed them in a sweet,
quiet voice, "Know children, that our holy King has called for me this
day. I am about to leave you and go to Him."
They did not understand,
and thinking that he was speaking of the earthly Emperor, protested, "You
cannot visit the Emperor today, you are ill!"
"My escorts are here
already," Philaret answered.
Then they understood that
he was speaking of the King of heaven, and lamented bitterly, as once did
Joseph and his brothers for Jacob, but Philaret motioned them to silence. He
began to instruct and console them, saying, "My children, you know how I
have lived since my youth. God is my witness that I have not exploited
another’s labors, nor boasted because of the wealth God has given me, but have
driven pride far away and loved humility, heeding the Apostle, who charged them
that are rich in this life not to be high-minded. When I fell into poverty, I
neither grieved, nor did I curse God, but like Job thanked Him for having
looked upon my patience. I continued to be grateful to Him in adversity, and He
delivered me and made me the friend and kinsman of the Emperor and his princes.
Yet even when I was raised to an exalted rank, my heart remained humble, and I
heeded the prophet, who said, My heart is not exalted, nor are mine eyes become
lofty, nor have I walked in things too great or too marvelous for me. I have
not hidden the riches given me by the earthly Emperor, but have sent them to
the King of heaven, borne in the arms of the poor; therefore, I implore you to
emulate me, beloved, and do whatever you have seen me do. The greater the good
you accomplish, the greater the blessedness you will inherit. Place no value on
corruptible riches, but send them on to the world unto which I now depart.
Leave not your possessions here, lest they fall into the hands of your enemies.
Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, intercede for widows, come to the aid
of orphans, visit the sick and imprisoned, and shun not the services of the
Church. Do not take what is another’s, do not slander or offend anyone, and do
not rejoice at another’s misfortune, even your enemy’s. Give burial to the dead
and have them commemorated in the holy churches. Remember me, the unworthy one,
in your prayers as well, until the day of your death and departure unto life
eternal." Then the saint said to his son John, "Tell my grandsons to
draw nearer," and began to foretell what would happen in their lives. To
John’s eldest son he said, "You will take a wife in a distant land and
live piously with her," and to the second son, "You will take upon
yourself the yoke of Christ, living virtuously as a monk for twenty-four years,
and then depart unto the Lord"; and he also foretold everything that was
to befall the third son. Being a prophet, like the patriarch Jacob in times of
old, this blessed man knew with certainty everything that would take place in
his grandsons’ lives.
John’s two virgin daughters
approached him as well, saying, "Bless us, grandfather!"
"The Lord bless
you," he answered. "You will remain virgins, unsullied by this
sin-loving world and the passions of the flesh. After serving the Lord in chastity
for a short time, you will be vouchsafed great blessings from Him."
Everything the saint predicted came to pass. His granddaughters entered a
convent dedicated to the most pure Theotokos in Constantinople, and after
struggling in the monastic labors of fasting and vigil for twelve years,
reposed in purity almost at the same time, departing peacefully unto the Lord.
The blessed Philaret prayed
for his wife, children, his entire household, and the whole world; then
suddenly his face could be seen shining like the sun. He chanted the psalm of
David, Of mercy and judgment will I sing to Thee, O Lord, and when it was
completed, a sweet odor filled the room, as if someone had poured out a bottle
of fragrant perfume. After this he began the prayer, "Our Father, which
art in the heavens." Reaching the words, "Thy will be done," he
lifted up his arms and surrendered his soul unto the Lord. Philaret was ninety
years old when he died; nonetheless, his face was not wizened by age. He
remained pleasant to behold, and his cheeks were ruddy as ripe apples.
When he learned of
Philaret’s death, the Emperor, accompanied by the Empress and his nobles,
hastened to the convent. Kissing the blessed one’s face and hands, everyone
wept copiously. The Emperor immediately issued a command that abundant alms be
given to the poor.
As the saint’s body was
being taken for burial, a strange thing occurred which moved all to tears and
contrition of heart. An innumerable multitude of poor folk and beggars
descended upon his grave from the cities and villages nearby. Like ants they
swarmed around his coffin, hobbling and crawling and trampling one another
underfoot. Their cries and lamentations rose up to heaven, and they shouted,
"O Lord God, why hast Thou taken from us our father, who ever nurtured us?
Who now will feed the hungry? Who will give burial to the bodies of our
brethren lying in the streets? It would have been better if we had died before
our benefactor!"
Among those who thronged
the saint’s casket was a pauper named Kavokokus, who often received alms from
Philaret. He was possessed from birth by an evil spirit, which frequently cast
him into fire or water at the appearance of the new moon, when the demon would
torment him most cruelly. Learning that the blessed Philaret had reposed and
that his sacred remains lay already in the casket and were being carried to the
grave, he set out in pursuit of them. Kavokokus caught up with the coffin, but
the demon, enraged by his ardent love for the saint, did not remain idle. It
began to torment the man, forcing him to utter blasphemies against Philaret, to
bark like a dog at the coffin, and to grab hold of the bier so firmly that it
was impossible to pry loose his hands. As soon as the coffin reached the grave,
the demon threw the sufferer to the ground and took flight. Kavokokus arose
unharmed, praising God; and the people who witnessed the miracle also marveled
and extolled the Lord, Who had given such abundant grace to His servant. The
saint’s honorable body was then laid to rest. Thus did God glorify His merciful
servant in the present age! Now we shall tell how the Lord exalted him in the
life beyond the grave.
A relative of Philaret, a
wise, pious man who feared God, told this story concerning the saint, vowing
the truth of the tale and calling upon God Himself as his witness:
"One night, after the
blessed Philaret departed unto God, I beheld an awesome vision and saw myself
being taken to a place surpassing all description. A radiant man showed me a
dreadful river of fire, which roared as it flowed by. On the far side of the
river I saw a marvelous, beautiful garden, a place of ineffable delight, from
which came forth a wondrous fragrance. The garden was full of lofty trees,
heavy with fruit, which swayed as a gentle breeze blew through them, making a
most pleasant sound. No human tongue can tell of the good things there, which
God hath prepared for them that love Him. I saw in the garden a multitude of
people rejoicing, clad in white garments and enjoying the fruits of that place,
and as I looked more closely, I noticed a man clothed in a bright robe, sitting
on a golden throne. It was Philaret, but I did not recognize him. On one side
of him stood newly baptized children holding candles; on the other, a crowd of
poor folk clothed in white. The latter were pressing against one another,
hoping to gain a place closer to the blessed one. Suddenly a young man
appeared, his face brilliant with light. His gaze was terrifying, and he held
in his hand a staff of gold. Trembling with fear, I somehow found the courage
to ask him, ’My lord, who is the man sitting on the throne? Is it Abraham?’
"The shining youth
replied, ’It is Philaret of Amneia, who is counted as a second Abraham because
of his great love for the poor and his generous almsgiving. He has been
assigned a place here because of his pure and honorable life.’
"Then the new Abraham,
the holy, righteous Philaret, his face radiant with light, looked upon me and
said softly, ’Come here, child. I wish to share these good things with you.’
"’I cannot go to you,
father,’ said I. ’I am afraid of the river of fire. The bridge over it is
narrow and difficult to cross. Many people are burning in the river, and I fear
that I may fall into it.’
"The saint replied,
’Take courage and come; do not fear. There is no way here except by the bridge.
Do not be afraid, child; I will help you.’
"As he called me, he
stretched out his hand. I took courage and began to cross, but as soon as I
touched his hand, the sweet vision suddenly came to an end, and I awoke.
Weeping bitterly, I repeated to myself, ’How shall I ever cross that dread
river and reach the heavenly mansions?’"
After burying the precious
body of her husband, the blessed Theoseva, Saint Philaret’s wife, returned to
Paphlagonia. She used much of the wealth given her by the Emperor and Empress
to rebuild the churches of that land destroyed by the godless Persians. She
gave to the restored churches sacred vessels and vestments, and adorned them
richly, and also founded monasteries and guesthouses for travelers, where the
poor and infirm could find shelter. After some time she returned to
Constantinople, where she lived out the rest of her days in virtue and piety.
She reposed peacefully in the Lord and was laid in a grave next to her husband.
By their prayers, may we also be granted the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ on
the day of judgment. Unto Him is due honor and glory, with the Father and the
Holy Spirit, unto the ages of ages. Amen.
