Childhood in a Heaven Built on Earth

As a result, my childhood became an experience of innocent theological love; I never possessed worldly toys. More than that: I did not know what was worldly or secular, nor what was evil. Thus, when I later learned from books that evil does not scientifically exist, I rejoiced with a great joy, for since my infancy I had been certain that evil could not truly be. I found myself happy in this confirmation. In reality, if a task is performed poorly, it is as if it were never done. If a cook prepares a dish so badly that it is inedible, it is as if he never prepared it. If a cobbler makes a shoe unfit for use, it is as if he never made it; and if we live by the body alone to tickle our senses, ignoring the best within us—the human spirit, which is divine—it is as if we have not lived at all. Those who live only through their senses and their bodies have, in effect, never lived. They do not exist; they never were, and they never shall be. For this reason, Saint Thomas Aquinas also denies the existence of sinners, saying: "Because of their sins, men do not exist."

In the Hindu tongue, the word for "existence" is synonymous with "goodness"; the two terms carry the same meaning. And "non-existence" is synonymous with "evil." To exist is to be good; not to exist is to be evil.

But for other reasons, I was in total ignorance of evil and the mundane. First, I lived in a magnificent world that dazzled me with its transcendent radiance; I lived within the sacred Peribolos of the church.

The church is an icon in architecture, and every church is a copy of heaven. Thus, I lived in heaven built upon the earth.

In this world of mine, all splendor, both divine and cosmic, was present. The service of the Divine Liturgy is celebrated in the church and in heaven at the same time. Every service is a double one, performed here and above in heaven, attended secretly by God, the angels, and the saints.

In the beginning, the presence of the angels captivated my attention. I felt them around me, moved by them despite their invisibility. The angels would surround my father the moment he entered the church. Saint John Chrysostom says:

"The angels surround the priest when he celebrates the Divine Sacrifice, and the heavenly hosts, drawn up in reverence around the altar where the Sacrifice is laid, contemplate with jubilation the radiance and majesty of God.

"The multitude of angels in their shining raiment surround the altar and bow their heads like soldiers in the presence of their Emperor."

Thus, my father was never alone in the temple, "for the heavenly powers fill the temple and surround the altar, and displace the one standing there." My father, though still in the flesh, was deemed worthy to be a servant in heaven in the company of the saints, the Seraphim, and the Cherubim; more than that, the saints themselves served him during the Holy Sacrifice, "for the angels serve with the priest, and God is personally present in an invisible manner." The Apostle Paul urges women to cover their heads in the presence of the angels.

When my father donned his gold and silver vestments, he severed every bond with the earth and the world, "for ecclesiastical garments signify that the priest has completely cut all ties with the world, and that he represents God."

When the priest raises his arms, he must be certain that, like the angels, he is spreading two wings.

Saint Germanus says: "While performing the Seraphic service, the priests are robed in garments shaped like wings." And when my father used the sacred vessels, he was but an assistant to God on earth. He aided God, and God used my father’s hands to perform the tangible acts, while it was God who celebrated the Divine Sacrifice in a mystical way, and the angels served the priest and assisted him during the offering of the Sacrifice.

The angels would chant the hymns and anthems with my father; even one of the hymns—the Trisagion—was composed by the angels, who inspired the faithful with it in the Cathedral of Constantinople.

Saint John Chrysostom says to the priest: "Reflect in whose presence you stand and in whose company you shall supplicate God, in the company of the Cherubim, and reflect upon which choir you shall enter. Let no one join in these sacred and mystical hymns with negligence or levity, and let no one harbor worldly thoughts. But—having been freed from mundane matters and rising entirely to heaven as if standing in the presence of the Divine Majesty, fluttering with the Seraphim—he must sing the sacred hymns to the God of glory and majesty."

From such intimate commerce with heaven, I came at an early age to distinguish clearly between all the celestial ranks. I was able to tell a Cherub from other angels from afar, for the Cherubim are "many-eyed," while the Seraphim stand in a circle around the altar with their six wings—with two they cover their faces, with two they cover their feet, and with the other two they fly toward one another, never ceasing to chant unending praises...

They chant, and they praise, and they sing the song of victory, saying:

Holy, Holy, Holy...

I memorized these things because everything in the church is represented by symbols. I knew that "the wing is the symbol of speed and lightness in ascent, the symbol of that which is heavenly," the symbol of that which leads to the heights, the symbol of rising and transcending all baseness.

The wings of the angels are of a supreme lightness, and their lightness indicates that they are devoid of all worldly inclination, and that they ascend to the heights with buoyancy and purity. I knew they never wore shoes; they are always barefoot. And I knew that bare feet symbolize their freedom and liberation, that they are pure and unmixed with any external care, and that they emulate, as far as possible, the Divine simplicity.

My father’s vestments, the robes of the saints, the faces of the martyrs, the confessors, the patriarchs, and the prophets in the icons, the presence of the heavenly gods, the altar, the sacrifice, the music, and the poetry of the litanies—the supplications—all of it amazed and dazzled me in the heavenly world of my childhood. I was certain that the radiant celestial powers accompanied me, guided me, and protected me at every moment of my life. My guardian angel stood at my right hand, always and forever, invisibly watching over my every movement and every stillness.

I was surrounded by the angel who governed our church, the angel who watched over our house, the angel who guarded my father, the angel who tended our village, and the angel who managed our wretched homeland, Romania. I was never separated from these heavenly persons. It was they who watched over my upbringing and taught me how to speak, how to walk, and how to pray. These persons coming from above were the ones who guided my steps and corrected my conduct, my speech, and my attitudes in life. They were always near me in an invisible way, in my staying and in my wandering.

I emerged for the first time from this divine world—where I was almost the only earthly person—on the day I went to school. That day, I walked for the first time upon the mundane, un-sanctified earth; for I had been born on holy ground, born in the Priest’s House, within the sanctuary of the church, in heaven...