Just Another Day
Today is the anniversary of the death of the holy staretz Sylvan, at St. Panteleimon on Mount Athos--September 11, 1938. Or rather, on their calendar, September 25. But this sudden confusion of perspectives makes me wonder about all days. Who says this is September 11th? Well, we do. We have elected to call this September 11th. Actually it is just a "day." A rainy, grey one, with crows busy over the woods there and a cold wind in the grasses and blue jays behind me by the church. Rare cars on the road, going where? We have chosen to call this a "day." In order to imitate God's day on which everything is already complete, or in order to imagine that our days are leading somewhere? Like that car that passed going south toward the distillery. (But will it turn either right or left before reaching the distillery? Where then? As if anyone had to know. If we do not assume it is known by someone, we will grow anxious.) Staretz Sylvan did not want to die in the infirmary because they would put him in a room with a clock, which would disturb his prayer. September 11, 1960, IV.44-45
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