Father Anastasi
The Story of the Issue
Father Anastasi¹
Father Anastasi was very astonished when he awoke, for he felt as though a cloth was over his face. He raised his hand to remove it from himself, and something fell from his hand. He felt it, and behold, it was a cross…
Darkness filled the place. Father Anastasi was very surprised by this, because he remembered that the window of his cell had been open when he lay down to sleep, and that the moonlight was entering the place and lighting the room!!…
Then what is this strange smell he senses? He tried to know its secret but could not. A smell resembling the dead…!
Some time had passed on him, and his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. So he carefully focused his sight, hoping to see. And here the hair of his head stood in fear and terror, and his whole body trembled. He placed his palms over his eyes to remove the scene from before them. But when he lifted his hands, he found the scene as it was: piles of bones in some corners, and bodies laid out around him on the ground, each body wearing a white “tonia,” with a cloth over its face, and a cross in its hand… No doubt he was in the monastery’s tafus (the burial chamber).
Here an astonishing thought took hold of him. He tried to push it away from himself but could not… And with an unconscious movement he looked at himself, and found that he too was wearing a white tonia, and what he could see of the hair of his beard was entirely white, though before there had been only three or four white hairs… He realized the astounding truth: he was in the monastery’s tafus…! What had happened to him?
Had he truly died, and God raised him from the dead? … Or had the monks of the monastery fallen into error, thinking him dead and burying him? … Or was there a third explanation? …
He did not know… Yet there was a serious truth clear before him: at the very least, he was dead in the eyes of people… He also realized another truth: he could not come out of this condition, for how could people see before them someone dead whom they had buried with their own hands!! Their nerves could not bear it, nor could their minds.
Therefore he had to spend the rest of his life as a dead man inside the tafus…
This was a new experience for him in life. How could he live like this?!
On the first day he grew extremely tired. The smell was foul and rotten, unbearable. But he said to himself: “It is assumed that I left the comforts of the world, and I must live like this.” And he remembered the story of Anba Arsanius when he used to leave the water in which he soaked the palm-leaves without changing it until it stank, saying that this stench was in place of the sweet aromas he used to enjoy in the imperial palace… Soon Father Anastasi became accustomed to this condition: to live among bones, and to endure that smell and become familiar with it.
A problem remained before him… how was he to eat?!
He had no type of food in the tafus, and it was not possible to bring food from the monastery and store it…! Instead, every night in the darkness around midnight, he would go out and eat some of the fruits or vegetables in the monastery garden, or leftovers in a pot the cook had forgotten to wash, or simply a piece of bread and a little salt, and that was enough… Then he would spend the whole day fasting until midnight came again… And thus he spent many long years during which the sun never saw him eating — indeed, the sun never saw him at all…
Of course he had no tools or vessels in the tafus… Here Father Anastasi remembered how, in his cell, he used to keep dozens of kitchen tools and varieties of food and utensils.
But now he had none of them, and he lived without all of them just as St. Anba Pijimi the anchorite lived without tools at all in his cave. Here Father Anastasi felt ashamed of his former life.
His conscience began to rebuke him. How was it — as a monk — that he kept many things which had seemed necessary at that time!! And now it was proven practically that he was able to live without them… Here he remembered dozens of other tools he used in his cell at that time: office tools, furniture, pictures, clothing, covers, and numerous small items beyond counting. His conscience reproached him much for all of this. What was the meaning of the poverty he had vowed on the day of his ordination?! Where was detachment? Here he examined with himself the issue of “necessities and luxuries,” which doubtless depended on the degree of a person’s detachment and his assessment of his needs…
But now Father Anastasi was able to live in the monastery owning nothing at all, in a life of complete detachment.
Even the cell, his private dwelling. He now lived in the tafus, and could not consider it his private cell. He was a stranger even in this place. In his former life, he had a cell and a solitary chamber which no one could enter without his permission, and he opened and closed it as he wished with a key he kept with him. But now he did not possess authority over the place he lived in. If they brought in a new person to him, he could not protest nor open his mouth. Merely hearing the sad tolls of the monastery bell, he would hurry to assume his position as a dead man, lie in the same posture, and cover his face with the cloth, so that if they opened the tafus to bury the new deceased they would find everything as they had left it…
Even books Father Anastasi owned nothing of…
So how did he spend his time? Here he sensed his former mistake… At that time, his goal had been to fill his mind with information: reading dozens of books, becoming an encyclopedia, and perhaps not finding time to contemplate what he had read… But now, since he had no books, he began to chew upon the information stored in his memory and to contemplate… Sometimes he would spend several days absorbed in a single verse, diving into its depths, and the Spirit would reveal to him wondrous mysteries… until he would cry out joyfully with David: “I have seen an end to all perfection, but Your commandments are exceedingly broad.” He realized he had formerly lived on the husks — the husks of superficial knowledge… And when the desire for reading pressed him, he would go in the dark to the church, read a little in quiet, and return…
Father Anastasi lived a life of complete solitude and silence…
He of course visited no one, and no one visited him. And naturally he lived in total silence, speaking to no one…
Once, some monks were talking outside the tafus, and he heard their voices but made no remark… Were the pieces of information they said true or false? Complete or incomplete? It was not his place to intervene. What was it to him? He was dead. And another time he heard monks outside the tafus speaking about the early fathers, then his name passed upon their lips. Some mentioned him with praise, others criticized him. But he was silent, neither thanking the one who praised nor arguing with the one who criticized — for he was dead.
Once Father Anastasi grew ill, and naturally no doctor visited him, nor did he take any medicine or any kind of treatment, nor nourishment nor strengthening. He endured quietly and in silence. Not even a word of comfort reached him, for no one visited him… Sometimes he could not even groan when he felt someone outside the tafus. And he remained thus until he recovered…
Once, while walking at night, two monks saw him… One cried out and fled. The other thought him one of the anchorites or one of the ancient saints, so he approached him, knelt, and asked him to bless him… He did not argue but obeyed, placed his hand upon him, blessed him, and hurried towards the tafus… It was rumored in the monastery that a saint had appeared to some monks, and Father Anastasi secluded himself for several days without going out at all. He neither ate nor drank.
Father Anastasi lived completely far from the world and its people. In former days he used to write letters to many of them, but now he was dead… Thus he became distant from letters, from magazines and newspapers, and from news in general. No news of the world reached him, nor of the Church, nor even of the monastery, and with time he began to forget the old news as well…
Previously he had felt that the monastery needed him, that he was a pillar of the monastery, an important person bearing many responsibilities! But now he knew that the monastery remained a monastery without him…
And likewise the Church… Sometimes positions and responsibilities became vacant, yet no one nominated him for any of them — he was dead… And he also did not think of these matters nor know of them…
And since he had nothing to occupy him but God, he lived a life of continual prayer…
In those days — before his death — he spent many nights in reading, writing, translation, composition, copying, and matters outside himself. But now, he could neither read nor write at night, for there were no books nor light. So he spent the entire night in prayer, remembering the saying of Mar Isaac: “The night is set apart for the work of prayer.” And during the night he also performed his necessary tasks in the monastery…
He grew greatly in prayer, until his life turned into prayer. Nothing remained in his mind except God, and with time he forgot the old memories, for nothing new of the world was added to him. His subconscious mind began to be cleansed of everything in it of worldly news, memories, and concerns… Thus distraction departed from his prayer, and he began to reach purity of heart, purity of mind, and loosening from all things and attachment to the One.
He was purified from false thoughts… but one thought remained fighting him:
He said to himself: “Here I am, having known true monasticism, and practiced total death to the world and complete union with God, so what prevents me from appearing to the monastery and living like this?”
What encouraged this thought was the long period he had spent in the tafus, such that people forgot him. Many of his old companions he saw buried with him in the tafus. Most monks of the monastery now were new and had not lived with him. And the remaining few of his companions were unlikely to expect his appearance. And if they saw him, they would not recognize him, for his appearance had changed by old age and asceticism.
Father Anastasi tried to repel this thought and said to himself: “What benefit is there that people should see me? I had once longed to live alone and far from people, devoted to God alone, and behold, I have attained what I desired. Why then think of changing my condition!” But the thoughts returned and fought him, saying:
“You have done this out of compulsion, and how beautiful it would be to do it by your own will!” A long period passed over him fighting these thoughts.
At last came a very dangerous night in his life…
On that night, the thoughts pressed him strongly. Father Anastasi knelt and poured out himself before God with intense fervor, saying: “Blessed are You, O Lord, in all Your kindnesses to me. You, O Lord, are very merciful and compassionate toward me, and You have dealt with me beyond what I deserve, granting me this secluded life. You have loosed me from all things and bound me to You… Yet I feel that I have lived this rule by compulsion. I want to live in it by my will for Your love… It is an idea, or a desire, which may be good or may be evil. But in any case I present it to You, for I cannot hide anything from You. Let Your will be done…”
Father Anastasi bowed his head and wept. No one heard his voice. But heaven heard. And one of the twenty-four priests around the throne of God came forward, took this prayer in his golden censer, and carried it upward… Father Anastasi slept while his tears wet his white beard.
He did not know how much time passed while he was asleep — was it an hour or an age! All he knew was that a bell rang violent strokes. It was the midnight bell which he heard every night in the tafus… And Father Anastasi opened his eyes and was very astonished, and said within himself: “What is this I see? …” His head spun, and he slept, then awoke at another bell, perhaps the Matins bell. He opened his eyes, and behold, he was before the first scene, and his astonishment increased: he found before him an open window, with moonlight entering and lighting the whole place…!
He looked at himself and found that he was wearing a black garment. He looked around and found the scene resembled that cell in which he had lived in former times. He placed his hand upon his head and began thinking! At last he understood the secret… Was what had happened to him a dream, or a vision, or a lesson in monasticism? He did not know, but he grasped the purpose of it…
From that time his life changed completely…
He began the life of solitude and asceticism which he had become accustomed to during “tens of years.” He practiced continual prayer just as he had practiced it in the tafus… And when necessity called him to leave his cell for a task relating to the monastery council, he walked quietly, turning neither right nor left… The monks recognized him by his silence and his thin body, by his abundant courtesy and humility… and by his head bowed to the ground… And from time to time he would raise his head slightly and give it a gentle shake, to brush from his eyes drops of tears that prevented him from seeing what was before him…
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An article by His Grace Bishop Shenouda, Bishop of Education – Al-Keraza Magazine, First Year, Issue One, January 1965
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