The Life of the Holy Righteous Philaret the Almsgiver

THE FIRST DAY

OF THE MONTH OF DECEMBER

The Life of the Holy Righteous

Philaret the Almsgiver

From The Great Collection of the Lives of the Saints, Volume 4: December,

compiled by St. Demetrius of Rostov

Translated into English and published by Chrysostom Press www.chrysostompress.org

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.

---

On
this same day we commemorate Saint Ananias of Persia, who when he was
being tortured for his confession of Christ exclaimed, "I see a ladder
reaching up to heaven, and fiery men summoning me to a wondrous city,
full of light!" With this, he expired.