Ἦταν νύχτα ἀκόμη καὶ ἀπελάμβανα τὴν ἐπικοινωνία μὲ τὸν Ἰησοῦ μου. Δὲν εἶχε ἀρχίσει ἡ τρίτη τῆς ἡμέρας.
Τότε σκέφτηκα:
"Ὅλα σιωποῦν, ὅλα ἡσυχάζουν".
Μὰ ἕνα ρῖγος διέτρεξε ξαφνικὰ τὸ σῶμα μου.
Κατάλαβα ὅτι εἶχα κάνει λάθος.
Μοῦ φάνηκε μέσα στὴν ἡσυχία ὅτι χίλιες χιλιάδες φωνὲς ἀκούστηκαν.
Πάλι σκέφτηκα:
πόσοι ταραγμένοι στὰ κρεβάτια τοῦ πόνου, μέσα στὰ σπίτια ἢ στὰ νοσοκομεῖα, τώρα ποὺ ἐγὼ νόμιζα ὅτι ὅλα ἠρεμοῦν, δὲν μποροῦν νὰ κλείσουν μάτι.
Ποιοί ἐνδιαφέρονται γι’ αὐτούς;
Ποιοί αὔριο θὰ πᾶνε νὰ τοὺς ποῦν,
μὲ τὴ γλῶσσα ποὺ ἐννοοῦν οἱ ἄρρωστοι, ὅτι κάποιος τοὺς ἀγαπάει καὶ κάτι προσμένει ἀπὸ αὐτούς;
Πόσοι γονεῖς τὴ στιγμὴ αὐτὴ ἐφιαλτικὰ ἀγρυπνοῦν, γιατί σὲ λίγες ὧρες στόματα παιδιῶν πεινασμένα θὰ ἀνοίξουν, γιὰ νὰ συνεχίσουν νὰ παραμένουν πεινασμένα;
Ποιοί προσεύχονται γι’ αὐτούς;
Πόσα ἑκατομμύρια ἀνθρώπων τούτη τὴ νύχτα σὰν νεκροὶ κοιμοῦνται, ἀλλὰ καὶ σὰν νεκροί, μόλις χαράξει, θὰ σηκωθοῦν,
ἀφοῦ κανεὶς ἀκόμη δὲν τοὺς τὸ εἶπε ὅτι κάποιος, γιὰ χάρη τους,
σὲ ἕναν Σταυρὸ ἀνέβη, γιὰ νὰ γίνουν αὐτοὶ τέκνα Ἀναστάσεως.
Ποιοί θὰ τοὺς μεταφέρουν τὸ μήνυμα αὐτὸ τῆς χαρᾶς, ποὺ ἴσως δὲν τὸ περιμένουν, ἀλλὰ τόσο τὸ χρειάζονται;
Τέλος, πόσοι νέοι, νυχτωμένοι τώρα ποὺ ἐγὼ δὲν ἀκούω τίποτε, τρεκλίζουν...μέσα στὰ πολύφωτα σαλόνια; Ποιοί θὰ τοὺς δείξουν ὅτι δὲν εἶναι ἐκεῖ αὐτὸ ποὺ ζητοῦν;
Ὅλα φαίνεται ὅτι σιωποῦν, κι ὅμως ὅλα φωνάζουν.
Κραυγὲς πλέον ἀκοῦνε τὰ αὐτιά μου — τῆς ψυχῆς μου τὰ αὐτιὰ — ἀγωνίας, προσμονῆς, ἀναζητήσεως φωνὲς ἠχοῦν.
Τὶς ἀκούω.
Παρ’ ὀλίγον νὰ τὶς λησμονοῦσα,
φτωχιὰ καρδιὰ ποὺ εἶμαι!
Τὸ πιστεύω ὅτι καὶ ὅταν δείχνουν πὼς μὲ διώχνουν αὐτοὶ οἱ ἄνθρωποι, στὴν πραγματικότητα
μὲ καλοῦν.
Κι ἐγώ, ἀπεσταλμένος ἐκείνου τοῦ Πατρός μου, καὶ ὅταν ἀγρυπνῶ καθεύδω.
Γιὰ μένα εἶχε πεῖ: Ἔγειρε ὁ καθεύδων καὶ ἀνάστα ἐκ τῶν νεκρῶν".
Γέρων Αἰμιλιανὸς Σιμωνοπετρίτης.
It was still night, and I was delighting in communion with my Jesus.
The third hour of the day had not yet begun.
Then I thought to myself:
"Everything is silent; all things are at rest."
But suddenly a shudder ran through my body.
I understood that I had been mistaken.
In the stillness, it seemed to me that a thousand times a thousand voices had arisen.
Once again, I thought:
How many souls, restless upon beds of suffering, in their homes or in hospitals, are unable to close their eyes in sleep at this very hour, when I had imagined that all things were growing still?
Who cares for them?
Who will go to them tomorrow and tell them, in the language that the sick can understand, that someone loves them and expects something of them?
How many parents are keeping a dreadful vigil at this very moment, knowing that in just a few hours the hungry mouths of their children will open, only to remain hungry still?
Who is praying for them?
How many millions of people sleep this night as though they were dead, and yet, when dawn breaks, will rise as though they were dead still, because no one has yet told them that Someone, for their sake, ascended a Cross, so that they might become children of the Resurrection?
Who will carry to them this message of joy, which perhaps they do not expect, yet so desperately need?
And finally, how many young people, lost in the darkness of night while I hear nothing, are staggering through brightly illuminated lounges and glittering halls?
Who will show them that what they seek is not to be found there?
Everything seems to be silent, and yet everything is crying out.
Now my ears hear cries, the ears of my soul. Voices of anguish, of expectation, of searching, resound all around me.
I hear them.
I had almost forgotten them;
such a poor, wretched heart am I!
I believe that even when these people seem to drive me away, in truth, they are calling me.
And I, sent forth by that Father of mine, even as I keep vigil, am asleep.
For me He had spoken:
"Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead."
Elder Aimilianos of Simonopetra
http://www.orthodoxia-ellhnismos.gr/
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