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After the agape meal on the feast day, Father Abbot Melchisedec gave a conference titled “A Conversation with Father Abbot. About Our Fathers in the Lord. About being a Christian today.” In this conference, he nurtured the hearts of the faithful with several anecdotes about the great Romanian spiritual fathers whom he knew personally, sharing with them the spirit of these elders and, likewise, offering models of Christian living for our times.

I am sure you have heard of Father Sofian Boghiu. He was my spiritual father while I was in Bucharest at university, and even after that. Even the painting of Putna Monastery was completed after asking his advice. Father Sofian always strove for his spiritual children to care for the “icon from within”. What is the “icon from within”? The image of Christ in our hearts. Because each of us, having been born in the mystery of Baptism, from water and spirit, there the priest prays, before immersing us in water, with these words: “And make Thy Christ” – addressing God the Father, “take form in this one who is to be born from my hands. May my sins not in any way hinder the grace of Thy Most Holy Spirit and may the image of Christ in the heart of that child who is to be born in the Lord not be tainted.”

You have heard of the Holy Friday Church. I was in my third year of university, in the last weeks, and a rumor circulated in our university that this church was going to be demolished. Immediately, we went to the Holy Friday Church and indeed, there was a Divine Liturgy, and right after, they started to remove the church’s belongings, and we, the students, were pushed into a state of rebellion against the church leadership at the time. The fast of the Holy Apostles followed, and before going on vacation, I went to Father Sofian for confession. I shared with Father the rebellious state I was in because of the demolition of the Holy Friday Church. At that time, deep wounds were inflicted in our souls when we saw how the church was being torn down. I confessed those feelings to Father, and in turn, he calmly and quietly replied, “If you have judged them, tell me, have you set things right in any way? No… Then, never judge and never act against Christ and the truth.” I mention this because Father Sofian fought for the “icon” within us.

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Today, you heard at the Liturgy about the repose of Father Hieroschemamonk Iacob Bârsan. I met Father Iacob in 1981, when I was in my second year of seminary. And on August 12, 1989, when I went to Putna permanently, then Father welcomed me. I didn’t know anyone in Putna, and that was one of the reasons why I chose Putna. Father Iacob took me in right away, even though, at that time, he was still named Visarion because he had not yet received the Great Schema, and he introduced me to the abbot. About four weeks later, they decided to tonsure me into monasticism. And on the Eve of the Nativity of the Mother of God in 1989, I was tonsured a monk. And then, the abbot was Father Iachint, whom I knew more by sight because I had seen him at Moldovița Monastery and whom I loved and greatly appreciated for his humility and gentleness. While preparing me for monastic tonsure, Father Iachint asked me who I would like as my sponsor, and I answered that I didn’t know anyone in Putna except Father Visarion Bârsan. He was an admirer of St. John Jacob. He took care of the saint’s holy relics and ensured that some items related to St. John Jacob made their way to Putna. And now he has reposed in the Lord.

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Father Arsenie Papacioc had infinite love. That’s why I said that if Christ’s love dwelt in someone, then in Father Arsenie, it overflowed entirely. That’s how I felt next to Father Arsenie, even though I didn’t confess to him. But I held him in high regard and he transmitted all his love’s strength to me, which I fully felt, and under which I felt as if under an umbrella.

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About Father Paisie Olaru… I met him for the first time in the Fall of 1979. He was up at Sihla Skete, around November, in his cell. When I entered the cell, there was complete peace, and Father conveyed extraordinary peace and humility, as if all grace was in his cell. Father Paisie gave me a blessing and even put some money in my pocket. I was in my first year of seminary. He had profound contemplation and deep humility. He passed away in 1990, before passing, he had a fracture in his right hand and said this: “Because I was too indulgent, that’s why God punished me.” But Father Paisie was an abyss of humility.

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Let me tell you an anecdote about Father Cleopa. After five years as abbot, I went to Father Cleopa to complain that I wanted to escape from the abbacy. And he, witty as he was, asked me, “For how many years have you been abbot?”, and I said, “Five, your reverence,” and he replied, “When you have fifty-five years of being abbot, come and tell me!” I grabbed his hand and said, “Your reverence, this is not a blessing, it’s a curse!” Sometime later, I went again and he asked me, “Do you want to confess?”; but that wasn’t on my mind. And then he shouted to Father Varsanufie, “Varsanufie, read the absolution!” I wasn’t prepared, but Father Varsanufie from the other room, “Blessed is our God…” and started the absolution: “Melchisedec, kneel!” Now I didn’t know what to say, as I wasn’t ready. And I went to Father Cleopa and he started right away: “Have you judged, have you grumbled, pride, vanity, self-image?” And he listed them all. Then he started reading the absolution prayer. And then I said, “Wait, your reverence,” and he asked, “What’s wrong?” “Since I’ve been abbot, I haven’t kept my rule and canon.” “You haven’t kept your rule and canon?! How many monks do you have?”; I don’t remember how many we were then. And Father said, “This is your canon, take care of them, this is your obedience, take care of the community, nothing else.” Completely new to me, as I was still a child. I was a child back then. That was Father Cleopa.

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Let me talk about Archbishop Justinian [Chira]. I sought him out, in 1989, after my visit to Father Cleopa and feeling somewhat lost, I went to Bishop Justinian to ask for advice. God answers you in life, but after putting you through His sieve. I arrived at Cluj at Bishop Justinian’s, around noon, and told him I wanted to seek his advice. He told me to come back later. I returned at the agreed-upon time but couldn’t find him. Internally, turmoil ensued. I went to the cathedral, and there was an icon of the Mother of God. It wasn’t until I completely let go of all thoughts and said, “Lord, open the door for me and give me access to His Eminence,” because until then, I was hesitant. Two hours later, I tried again, and he opened, telling me he had been waiting for me for two hours. I told him I had come, and he replied that he hadn’t heard anything. But what was it? I wasn’t ready to receive his words. I briefly introduced myself, and he began as follows: “Brother Mihai, the monk is God’s gift. It is the gift that humanity gives to God, but also the gift that God gives to humanity.” That was enough for me. He spoke to me for an hour and gave me advice that I still follow to this day. That’s how I felt about Bishop Justinian. May his memory be eternal, his and all the fathers I mentioned.

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In 1973, on the first Sunday after the winter holidays, my paternal grandmother, that is, my great-grandmother, whom we called “the old grandmother,” was already ninety years old, and she had raised us. Her name was Saveta Ilașcu. It was known that the old grandmother was on her deathbed, and we, her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, had to ask for forgiveness. If someone died in the village without their relatives seeking forgiveness, it was like a curse. That day, all of us grandchildren and great-grandchildren visited the grandmother. In the evening, she sent us all home, but only stopped my mother, Teodora. The great-grandmother was a widow since the First World War and made Prosphora at the church all her life, until she could no longer. It was an extraordinary sacrifice. It was now evening, and she was asking my mother what time it was, my mother said it was 10:00 pm, and the grandmother said to her, “Well, there’s more.” Near midnight, she asked more and more frequently. At 11:45 pm, she said to my mother, “Well, Teodora, it’s time, light the candle.” My mother obeyed, handed her the candle, the grandmother swallowed three times, and passed away. A Christian ending. Is this not what we ask for in our prayers?!