Drug
addiction continues to rage in the States:
But
God in His kindness has given us a great helper to overcome this scourge: St Ephraim of Nea Makri (+1426).
He
was cruelly martyred by the Turks in the 15th hundredyear but has
been miraculously revealed to us in these latter times to help us save our
souls and bodies. Here is a short
account of his life and martyrdom:
"ST. EPHRAIM THE GREAT MARTYR AND WONDERWORKER -
May 5th
The holy New Martyr and
wonderworker Ephraim was born in Greece on September 14, 1384. His father died
when the saint was young, and his pious mother was left to care for seven
children by herself.
When Ephraim reached the
age of fourteen, the all-good God directed his steps to a monastery on the
mountain of Amoman near Nea Makri in Attica. The monastery was dedicated to the
Annunciation and also to St Paraskeva. Here he took on his shoulders the Cross
of Christ, which all His followers must bear (Matt. 16:24). Being enflamed with
love for God, St Ephraim eagerly placed himself under the monastic discipline.
For nearly twenty-seven years he imitated the life of the great Fathers and
ascetics of the desert. With divine zeal, he followed Christ and turned away
from the attractions of this world. By the grace of God, he purified himself
from soul-destroying passions and became an abode of the All-Holy Spirit. He
was also found worthy to receive the grace of the priesthood, and served at the
altar with great reverence and compunction.
On September 14, 1425, the
barbarous Turks launched an invasion by sea, destroying the monastery and and
looting the surrounding area. St Ephraim was one of the victims of their
frenzied hatred. Many of the monks had been tortured and beheaded, but St
Ephraim remained calm. This infuriated the Turks, so they imprisoned him in
order to torture him and force him to deny Christ.
They locked him in a small
cell without food or water, and they beat him every day, hoping to convince him
to become a Moslem. For several months, he endured horrible torments. When the
Turks realized that the saint remained faithful to Christ, they decided to put
him to death. On Tuesday May 5, 1426, they led him from his cell. They turned
him upside down and tied him to a mulberry tree, then they beat him and mocked
him. "Where is your God," they asked, "and why doesn't he help
you?" The saint did not lose courage, but prayed, "O God, do not
listen to the words of these men, but may Thy will be done as Thou hast
ordained."
The barbarians pulled the
saint's beard and tortured him until his strength ebbed. His blood flowed, and
his clothes were in tatters. His body was almost naked and covered with many wounds.
Still the Hagarenes were not satisfied, but wished to torture him even more.
One of them took a flaming stick and plunged it violently into the saint's
navel.
His screams were
heart-rending, so great was his pain. The blood flowed from his stomach, but
the Turks did not stop. They repeated the same painful torments many times. His
body writhed, and all his limbs were convulsed. Soon, the saint grew too weak
to speak, so he prayed silently asking God to forgive his sins. Blood and
saliva ran from his mouth, and the ground was soaked with his blood. Then he
lapsed into unconsciousness.
Thinking that he had died,
the Turks cut the ropes which bound him to the tree, and the saint's body fell
to the ground. Their rage was still not diminished, so they continued to kick
and beat him. After a while, the saint opened his eyes and prayed, "Lord,
I give up my spirit to Thee." About nine o'clock in the morning, the
martyr's soul was separated from his body. These things remained forgotten for
nearly 500 years, hidden in the depths of silence and oblivion until January 3,
1950."
For
an account of the miraculous finding of St Ephraim’s holy relics by Mother
Makaria, please go to this page:
But
as we said earlier, St Ephraim has been given to us by God to help us overcome
the maladies peculiar to this age, like despair and drug addiction. Here is how he is described at one site:
heavenly intercessor for
drug addicts, suicidals, and despairing youth
The
following is one ensample of the Saint’s love for struggling mankind:
To
begin with, it has been two months since I’ve stopped taking the poison, and
now I feel like any other normal healthy person. I have no desire whatsoever to
put it into my bloodstream again, and I owe this not to any effort of my own, but
entirely to the miraculous power of God and His Saint.
I
was born and raised in Athens, in Koukaki, until the age of eight. I am an only
child and my parents love me passionately and never denied me anything I wanted.
When I was eight years old my parents and I left for America for a better life.
With the help of relatives there they found jobs and I attended school.
As
I grew up, however, there also grew within me many absurd desires and vices.
Due to my character I was easily caught up in bad company and soon tried
marijuana and hashish. As the years went by the light drugs didn’t satisfy me
or my companions. So, we got into the heavy drugs we found in the same
surroundings. We had access to them as easily as the light drugs. These, however,
were more expensive, and I didn’t have a job. In the beginning I stole from the
wallets and pockets of my parents. However, when with time I had need of
greater doses, and after I had been caught by my parents, I even began beating
them to get the money. My condition was critical; I understood that, but I
couldn’t turn back. My parents rushed me to doctors and psychologists, hoping
they could do something, but there was nothing, no light from anywhere. The
doctors told them that if I didn’t get out of that environment, my life would
be very short.
Once,
during that time, as I sat at home alone in a state of despair, a strange
visitor whom I had never seen before appeared in front of me. He was of medium
height, and had very large round eyes that kept rolling about. He had long
black bushy hair on his body. Also he had horns and a tail. He had a very loud,
strong voice and a frightening persuasiveness that didn’t leave room for
disagreement.
He
began to give a detailed account of my life from the time I was born until that
moment, and I could only agree. “You’ve enjoyed everything,” he told me at the
end, “there’s nothing left for you at all, only that you come with me...” I
asked him, “How?”
“You
will take the car,” he said, “and you will follow such-and-such a road. You
will drive along it for so many miles (I don’t remember the number) and there I
will be waiting for you...” This road was straight for many miles, and at a
certain point had a slight bend, where many drivers going too fast had skidded
off the
road, crashed into a wall and died. I had already heard of many such
unfortunate accidents that had occurred at that same place. I did exactly as he
told me, and I too crashed into the wall. The car ended up almost unrecognizable,
but they took me out with only minor injuries. After they gave me first aid, I went home.
About
ten days after my accident, the same unusual visitor reappeared, this time in
the kitchen. He had a frown of anger on his wild, imposing face, and with a nod
of the head backwards,2 said in the same peculiar voice, “You didn’t do
anything.” I sat looking at him petrified, and just managed to
ask, “What should I do?”
“Right
now—take a triple dose of what you usually take and you’ll come with me for
sure.” He vanished and I didn’t even bother to ask myself how he got into my
house, or who he was—I just put the plan into action.
I
got the drug ready in the syringe and I searched to find a place on my much-pierced
body. The dose was large and I immediately fell unconscious. When I was still
unconscious I saw a tall man with a cassock and a black cap, who had a cross
engraved on his forehead. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, “you will get well, and
when you return to Greece, come to my home. I am Ephraim.”
I
got up as though I hadn’t even taken any of that accursed poison. I felt a
strong desire to leave for Greece, and, as soon as I told my mother, she was amazed
and thought it a miracle because they had tried to send me away from that
environment many times before without success. I told my mother everything that
had happened to me, and she decided to accompany me on my trip. When we came to
my old neighborhood [in Athens], we went to the priest of the parish there, and
from him I learned who the strange visitor was, and what he wanted from me. It
was the devil and he wanted my immortal soul. I thanked God from the depths of
my soul. I confessed and fasted, and after fifteen days the priest
gave me Holy Communion. When I saw the icon of St. Ephraim, I knew that it was
he who had saved me from that terrible poison.
I
went to Nea Makri and had a liturgy served to thank the Saint. Now I come to
the monastery sometimes to get away from the world a little, and to be
reassured that I don’t need the drugs anymore.
This
is how good the Lord is to us sinners, giving us such a great intercessor and
deliverer in St Ephraim just as the devil is assailing mankind with opioids,
marijuana, and all kinds of other drugs as never before. May God deliver us from all this evil by St
Ephraim’s holy prayers.
--
Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England,
South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð,
unworthy though we are!
Anathema to the Union!
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