Father Justin Monk at Sinai Egypt

I am very glad to have received your email reply.

Yes, indeed, your memory is correct! That gallon of leather conditioner that I gave to Fr. Nicholas was a product which my late step mother Eleanor Spalding used to mix in the basement lab and sell to libraries, and it was called MITT SPITT, (refering to the leather catcher's mitts which are also in need of such an oil conditioner.)

I have not yet succeeded in finding the letter which I wrote to you on my disk drives, but I DID find a few blogs in which I reminisce about my time in the monastery, and mention you, Fr. Justin. I also blogged Fr. Lazarus, after he passed away.

Blog entry:

Thirty years ago, I spent a year in a Greek monastery as a novice. I discovered myself to be too weak and unsuitable for monastic life, but one of my fellow novices stayed on to become a monk, then priest, and was even selected to be consecrated a Bishop, but did not desire consecration and left that monastery. I heard some years ago that he went to St. Catherine's Monastery at Mt. Sinai.


Suddenly, the other day, I got the idea to do a google search, and sure enough, found articles about him, and his photo.

Fr. Justin is now in his 50's but looks very much as he did in his 20's when I knew him,.... it was a real trip down memory lane to do that google search!

His parents were Baptist preachers in Texas (where he was raised).

I remember seeing his parents the first time they came to visit him in the monastery, during his first year as a novice. Being Baptists, they were very spooked by all the icons paintings. They stared at them as if they were the idols of blasphemous, deranged, demonic savages. It may well be to this day the greatest heartbreak of their lives that their son has chosen to lead the life of a Greek Orthodox monastic.


I am sure that Fr. Justin has some flaws, or shortcomings, since no one is perfect, but I would venture to guess that he is in reality one of the most saintly people I have ever known personally.


I see Father Justin as an even-keeled ship which weathered that storm of scandals and controversy for many years as best he could, and finally found safe harbor at St. Catherine's Monastery in Sinai.


When a monk is tonsured into the Great (Angelic) Schema (Greek tradition), he vows (among many things) a vow of "constancy," to remain at the monastery of his tonsure at all costs until death. I am sure Fr. Justin did not take lightly his decision to leave the monastery where he took that vow of constancy. I imagine that he stayed on as long as his conscience would
permit. Perhaps it was the impending threat of consecration as a Bishop which tipped the balance and confirmed Justin in his decision to depart. Once a Bishop, he would no longer be a simple monk or priest, but would be more deeply embroiled in politics and controversy. But these are only my personal conjectures. I shall perhaps never know the details of his decision to leave. Ultimately, certain grave matters and decisions in life are between our self and God alone, and no one else. We certainly know what is in our own hearts, though perhaps no one else knows or understands. And we always have the voice of our own conscience which we can never escape. We certainly hope that God also, as the only "knower of hearts," knows what is in our hearts better than we ourselves do.

The words of St. Paul frequently echo through my mind, "God places His treasures of gold in earthen vessels (vessels of clay)." Flawed human natures are those "vessels of clay" of which St. Paul speaks. Each of us is a vessel of clay, flawed, limited, subject to so many base sentiments and appetites. The
"treasures of gold" are those eternal religious truths which are handed down
from generation to generation in various traditions. Ironically, as I now sit
writing this, someone has just posted in IRC Dalnet #philosophy a reference to Ezekiel 28,14:15:


You were the anointed Cherub who covers;
I established you;
You were on the Holy Mountain of God;
You walked back and forth
In the midst of fiery stones,
You were perfect in your ways
From the day you were created,
Until iniquity was found in you.


In the context of this passage in Ezekiel, the reference is to the King of
Tyre, but some see this as a reference to Lucifer, the Angel of Light, who fell
from Heaven and became Satan. Corruption is possible even in Heaven!


Over the ten years that I frequently stayed at the monastery and saw Father Justin, I never once saw him angry. I never once heard a judgmental or gossiping word from his mouth.


One very hot August day, thirty years ago, I was in a cramped corner of the
little church, behind an open window shutter, chanting Byzantine hymns during an hours-long service, together with five other novices, one of whom was Justin. There was no air to breath in the small space where I stood behind that open shutter. The heat was unbearable. I was not a brave person. I was not a struggler. I was not the sort of person cut out for monastic or ascetic life (though I only came to realize that years later). In my discomfort I squirmed and fretted in a most undignified manner, given my
circumstances. Suddenly, Justin, sensing my distress, skillfully moved me to
one side and switched places. I was now standing in the breezy cooler position that he had enjoyed only a moment before. I was grateful for his selfless gesture, but I was not more happy, but rather less happy, realizing that I had been wrong to complain of my circumstances. That little suffering, which I had rejected, was a small pearl meant for my crown but now lost to me, a pearl which Justin had now earned for himself with selfless nobility. I am certain that Fr. Justin has earned many such pearls for his crown in the form of instances of personal long suffering and self-denial of which no one shall ever be aware except for Justin, God and the Angels.


One day, Justin and I were working with others to clean out the attic of the
old coach-house. Novices were not permitted to speak to one another. A novice was only permitted to speak to a tonsured monk. Suddenly, Justin turned to me with a knowing expression of firm faith in his eyes, and told me something about the New Testament which I shall never forget. He uttered only a few words, but my knowledge of Greek and the New Testament was sufficient to fill in the complete meaning and import of what he said. We are all familiar at Christmas time with the "Manger" scene of the Nativity. Most of us probably think of a manger as a barn or cave. But the Greek word for manger in the New Testament is "phatnee," which designated the feeding trough into which grain or corn is placed to feed the livestock. Of course, the shape of a feeding trough is also the perfect shape for a baby's cradle. The word "phatnee" comes from a root which means "to eat." Those blood cells called "phagocytes," which eat other cells, derive their name from that same Greek root. The Italian "mange!" (eat!) demonstrates the same root meaning of "manger." The word "crib," which is a place to put a baby is also a "corn crib." The theological significance is that the infant Christ is placed in the feeding trough or manger as the heavenly grain or bread (Eucharist) to nourish the logical sheep (logika probata) of the flock of believers.


I remember being at Fr. Justin's service of monastic tonsure. Shortly after he
was tonsured, something quite amazing took place. One day, during Liturgy, he was taken by surprise as he was escorted up to the royal gates and tonsured a Reader. The very next day, during Liturgy, he was again taken by surprise as he was escorted up to the alter and ordained a Deacon. The next day, he was again shocked as he was escorted up to the Bishop for a third time, and ordained a Priest. Everyone recognized Justin's spiritual gifts from his earliest days as a novice.



Father Justin was always very clever with tools and machinery as well as
computer software and hardware. Father Justin was placed in charge of a fancy jigsaw cutting machine in the monastery workshop. One day, a Greek gentleman was given permission to use the jigsaw. Being a very proud and independent macho sort of a fellow, he told Fr. Justin that he knew all about such machines and needed no help or assistance. Fr. Justin meekly stood by, handing the man one new blade after another, as he improperly inserted it in the machine, turned the machine on, snapped the blade, turned the machine off, and then requested another blade from Fr. Justin's dwindling supply. Finally when there was one blade left, the man requested Fr. Justin's assistance, and Fr. Justin properly inserted it, and turned the machine on. It took great patience and humility for Fr. Justin not to speak out and humiliate this proud man.


Some years after I had left the monastery, I had a very vivid dream in which
Father Justin described to me the extraordinary beauty of sunsets in Texas, and wistfully said that he missed them greatly. The dream seemed so vivid that I went to the monastery and related it to Fr. Justin, feeling some concern that he was somehow unhappy or restless in his vocation. He seemed slightly puzzled and dismayed that I would attach such significance to a dream, as that is an unorthodox thing to do, though he did not utter a word of rebuke. He simply replied that, though sunsets in Texas were indeed very beautiful, he in no way missed them and was quite happy and content in his vocation at the monastery.


There are important lessons to be learned here, both from wonderful people like Justin and thousands like him in the world, as well as lessons from those unfortunates who suffered from downfall, temptation and scandal.


In an interview for an article, Justin states:

"I'd spend most of my time reading books, especially about history," he said. "I'd spend so much time in my room that my mother would tell me to go outside for fresh air. However, I wanted to learn. I was interested in history and places like this."


I surmise that Justin from his earliest years harbored within himself the grace and purity and gentleness of spirit which he exhibits today. His tonsure and ordination, training and experiences and suffering may have perfected his grace, but these things were not the source of that grace. The grace was there all along, as a gift. The mystery of such a gift is forever hidden from our understanding, as to why one individual is born into the world with such a grace, while countless others are born into the world devoid of such gifts.


I might, in closing, mention that I have written at my website about another novice from those monastery years, Fr. Lazarus, in a page entitled "The Repose of Father Lazarus - Page 362."


The Repose of Father Lazarus


Fr. Lazarus, Fr. Justin and I were all novices together. Fr. Lazarus chose to leave the monastic life after 20 years and marry. Fr. Justin chose to leave the monastery but continues in the monastic life to this day. I found myself totally unsuitable for the life and never took monastic vows. Now my beliefs and writings would be considered unorthodox and un-Christian by those many people that I knew from my monastery days, a fact which I understand perfectly and accept.


It is in "The Repose of Father Lazarus," on page 362, that I write:

(excerpt from page 362)

If controversy and disagreement and scandal were coinage, then poverty would have been eliminated millennia ago, and all would be wealthy.


For me, personally, (and this is quite a subjective statement), there is one shining light, one star, one bright ray which shines out from amidst all religious dispute and scandal. Many will disagree violently with what I am about to say. That one ray of light which shines out, for me, is simply this:
that individual who so ardently desires union with the divine, that they renounce the material world and their bodily nature and appetites, that individual is truly an example of something "super-natural."



The laws of physics teach us that no work may be performed without an expenditure of energy and force. All religions involve a sacrifice or offering of some sort, whether it is a lamb or a fruit or a flower. But the highest offering which any person can make is an offering of the Self and the Will and the Ego and their own biological Nature. The most profound act that any human can attempt is the religious act of renunciation and asceticism. The energy and force which makes possible this greatest of religious acts is a divine energy and force which cannot help but unite that individual with the Divinity. The ancients recognized that "nature abhors a vacuum," so when an ascetic creates a place, a space, a vacuum devoid of egotism and sense-gratification, then we may be certain that it is the very God which rushes into that space, to fill that vacuum and void, and it is that Divine Energy which constantly works to maintain the sanctity of that empty space, that holy place and inner sanctuary.



A wise theologian (Elder Panteleimon) once said, "Whenever you meet a monk or a nun (a renunciate), know that you have met a veteran of many battles."



The battle and struggle of the religious renunciate is constant, from moment to moment, a daily battle, against desires and the pleasures of the senses.



The worldly person will say, "But this is sick, abnormal, unnatural! Better to indulge ones senses and appetites and desires, since such is our biological nature."



But whether we have ever undertaken the ascetic life, even for a brief while, or if we have always been worldly in our nature and pursuits, we all know well in our 'heart of hearts' that there is no pleasure or enjoyment which yields lasting satisfaction and satisfies our endless hungers and thirsts for more and more and more.


As in any battle or war, there are those few soldiers who make it to the end,
and become venerable veterans, and there are the majority who fall in battle or who are taken prisoner. But it is the total effort of all combatants which contributes to the ultimate victory and liberation.


Perhaps one of the greatest religious truths ever stated is simply that 'The
Judgment of God is a Mystery to Man." Who can know or say, in the ultimate scheme of things, after all the eternities of time have played themselves out, what is the value and purpose of any single human life and effort. Who can say what constitutes victory and defeat?


Let us hope that the power of the offering of our will and ego and self, or even the gesture of such an offering, is in itself so pure and powerful that it transcends all dogma and doctrine, that even the flame of such an intention and resignation is fiery enough to burn away any sin of human frailty.

Perhaps that Compassionate Lord of the Vineyard, who paid the penny wage to those who labored only the final hour of the day, will also have compassion upon those who labored in the heat of the afternoon, but fell weakened before the close of day.


(end of excerpt)


As I conclude this post, I am listening to PBS "History of the Jewish Peoples."

They have just quoted Moses Maimonides, in his "Guide for the Perplexed," "I wish to help that one man... to achieve a state of perfection and peace."

(also mentioned in that segment are the Kibush Hashem)


How does one attain peace, inner peace? As a new convert to Orthodox Christianity, I loved to gossip about what I considered to be the incorrect practices of various Churches; what the Metropolia Russians did, what the New Calendar Greeks did.

During a visit to the monastery, shortly after my baptism there, I met a Russian priest who had come for a visit. As we walked in the woods behind the monastery, I told him my story of how I had come to be baptized, and of the scandalous differences that I had observed in various jurisdictions. The priest had patiently listened to me in silence. When I concluded my narrative, he looked at me with great seriousness and simply said, "And have you found peace now? Are you at peace?"

I imagine Fr. Justin has found peace, looking at his photo with St. Catherine's Monastery in the background.


=====================================================


(one reader comments):


I read your post (#956 on 8/19/2, "Finding Inner Peace") with great interest. I find the basic ideals which motivate the Christian renunciate are quite similar to those of the Hindu ascetic, although the concept of the end goal for which one strives is different.


Your observation that people are endowed with a certain Grace that sets them apart from others was also very well put. I would say however, that the greatest state of Grace in my view is the capacity to perceive and be grateful for the gifts one does have. That awareness may be a combination of natural ability and hard work.


Each of us must "count our blessings" and be grateful for those gifts which we have received. Truly, attitude is everything.


But as you well know, as a former aspirant to the monastic life, one may KNOW something intellectually to be true and act out something completely at odds with that. Life is a greased ladder. A positive outlook is impossible to sustain indefinitely, even if one wins a lifetime supply of Prozac.

As for the confession of father Elias, I may have a perspective of it that is somewhat different, as a non-Christian.

I think I have a big problem with the notion of sex as a sin, and of beginning with the premise that humans are basically sinners. Humility and the acceptance of human frailty is good -- but I am not sure what so much self-hatred accomplishes.

I think is is the extreme guilt, shame, and all those negative feelings that are associated with the sexual act actually make one think about it more. This is a human attribute. One cannot escape, as you put it, this "vessel of clay" that one inhabits. The average person who begins a diet or attempts to fast thinks of nothing but food all day long. So, for example, say I wanted to lose weight, rather than thinking I have to subsist on carrots and vegetation and if I give in to any real food I am a worthless and disgusting person completely devoid of will power -- I can focus, instead, on the constructive things I need to do that I perhaps have procrastinated. I can schedule a day that is full of those things and as a natural consequence, I will feel good about myself and in the process not use food to fill the void in my life.


Sex is a basic human impulse, not a flaw. Like all other human impulses, it can be indulged in in excess. The point in the religious life is not that one must give up sex, but train one's mind to attain a certain goal. To the extent one's mind is sincerely fixed on that goal, there is no question of thinking about sex.


Perhaps this is why in the Hindu system a gradual progression of stages in life was defined --Brahmacharya, the celibate knowledge seeker, Grhasthashram, when one gets married and leads the life of sharing a physical and -- hopefully -- mental union, and Vaanaprasthaa -- retiring to the forest for a life of renunciation and meditation when one has evolved to the level of maturity that
provides insight into the human condition.


Some rare individuals are born with that ability, but you cant force renunciation simply by imposition of guilt. Perhaps it is that unnatural forcing of minds not yet ready that produces those sexual predators that ruin the lives and minds of their young acolytes.

Even more of a crime than the sexual transgression, I feel, is the lack of accountability that protects the perpetrators. So in that sense, this uncovering of the truth is a greatly positive development, not a tragedy that has befallen the Church. It is ridiculous for believers in the faith to say they want to leave it because of the actions of some unworthy people, be they few or many. What does that have to do with the faith they practice, if they grew up believing in it? I say this as a purely logical argument, though my concept of the nature of God is much different and more abstract.
How is something infinite and infinitely mysterious affected by the few and the fallible? Perhaps this is because one always asks, "How could God allow this to happen?" whenever something bad happens.


The truth is it is not God who abuses us -- it is we who abuse the gift of free will and choice that we have been blessed with and use it to destroy each other and this spectacular earth for our beggarly and narrow ends.