Huzzah! My Better World Books copy of the Cistercian Press translation of Blessed Theodoret of Kyrrhos’s A History of the Monks of Syria arrived in the mail today! Yes! And I am going to make very good use out of it, mwahahaha… Ahem. At any rate, yesterday was the Orthodox feast-day of not only Saint Raphael of Brooklyn, but also of three great and holy Syrian monks known to Bishop Theodoret and treated in his book: Thalelaios, Asklēpios and Iakōbos.
Saint Asklēpios [Gk. Ασκληπιός, L. Asclepius, Ar. ‘Asqilîbiyyûs أسقليبيوس] was the spiritual father of Saint Iakōbos [Gk. Ιάκωβος, L. Jacobus or James, Ar. Ya‘qûb يعقوب]. Here is what Blessed Theodoret has to say about the two monks, who lived in the village of Nimouza near Kyrrhos. He mentions them in the same chapter as Saints Zebinas and Polychronios, whose feast day we have observed this week. Here is what he has to say of them in the Religious History:
Of this company is also the wonderful Asclepius, who is ten stades distant but who has keenly embraced the same way of life [as Zebinas and Polychronios]. He has the same food, dress, modesty of character, hospitality, brotherly love, kindness and gentleness, intercourse with God, consummate poverty, abundance of virtue, wealth of philosophy, and all the other things we related concerning that sacred person. He is said, at the time he was numbered with the brethren who inhabit the village, to have embraced the ascetic and disciplined life, and to have derived no harm from mixing with the multitude. Therefore, for having been preeminent in each life, both the social and the eremitical, he will with good reason receive the honour of a double crowning.As we can see from Blessed Theodoret’s narrative, the Saints Asklēpios and Iakōbos were deeply admired within their own lifetimes, and we reverence them in ours with the benefit of his work. Holy hermits Asklēpios and Iakōbos of Nimouza, pray unto Christ our God that our souls may be saved!
Many others also have emulated his virtue; not only ours but also the neighbouring cities and villages are full of this philosophy. One of these is the most divine James, a recluse in a cell at a village called Nimouza, who, though very near the end of life—for he is more than ninety years old—is a solitary recluse, giving replies, without being seen, through a small hole dug slantwise, and neither using fire nor employing lamplight. Twice has he dug through his door and bid me come in, thereby honouring me and showing the affection he has for me. Those who are now alive do not need my account, for they can, if they wish, become the eyewitnesses of the philosophy of these men. As for those to come, who do not share in seeing them, these particulars are sufficient for their benefit, since they show the distinctive character of their philosophy. So concluding at this point my account of these men, and asking in return for the gift of their blessing, I shall proceed to another narrative.
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