In Memoriam: Anba Serapamon (1937-2020)
There are people that you do not know personally, but you are so aware of and so influenced by, that you feel like you belong to them. It may be a grandparent, it might be your priest, it could be anyone. You feel insecure when they are gone. This is how I feel about Anba Serapamon. From the get-go, I want to make it clear that I am not pretending that His Grace (HG) and I were personally close. I have some personal experience with him, and I have seen the effect of him on many of his children (including my Bishop). It’s his very existence, however, that mattered to me and the whole Church.
This generation hasseen some giants pass, and Anba Serapamon is one of those. We lost Anba Mikhailof Assiut, Abouna Feltaous el Souriany, Abouna Fanous el Anba Bola, and manyothers (forgive me for not naming them all). We are indebted to these fathersfor their sanctity and for the genuineness of their spirituality. They affectedus in ways that we know and do not know. They made the Church a spiritual placeand protected us from many problems.
General
HG was born February 21,1937. In December 1958, the same year Pope Kyrillos was elected Patriarch, hebecame a monk at the famous El Sourian monastery. The monk assigned to be hisspiritual elder and father, was Abouna Antonious El Souriany (the future PopeShenouda III). He recounted this in front of me once with great joy. Theamazing thing is one day he would become the father of confession to the verysame man. In 1973 he was made Bishop and Abbot of St. Pishoy’s monastery inScetis.
It’s important you know the significance of this monastery and his headship of it. St. Pishoy’s monastery, as my Bishop taught me (who hails from there), was extremely poor. In fact, the monastery of St. Pishoy was financially dependent for a long time on the much richer (at the time) El Sourian monastery. When the thrice-blessed Pope Shenouda III was under his house arrest, he went to St. Pishoy’s as his place of exile. Some lore has it (I say lore because I do not know the veracity of it), that Pope Shenouda III made a vow that he would restore St. Pishoy’s monastery and give it proper attention.
Whether he made a vowor not, he certainly gave the monastery attention. The poor monastery of St.Pishoy became the monastic headquarters of Pope Shenouda III. Consequently,construction, renovation and attention became normal. Conferences and synodmeetings were regularly held there, and a papal residence was built there. The monasterybecame so busy, that I hated to retreat there! Monks upon monks soughtmonasticism there. As head of this monastery, these monks upon monks were beingoverseen by Anba Serapamon. The student had become the teacher.
I will give just a fewanecdotes under different headings for you to get a sense of him.
Monasticism andFreedom
On the night I mentioned in my other blog about him, I spoke to him about monasticism and monastic life. The details of which I, unfortunately, did not write down. HG opened up to some kid (me), about the struggles he faces with his monks. Out of respect for monasticism and that people do not understand monastic life but judge it anyway, I will not write all that he said he was struggling with in his monastery. In it, though, he asked, “Imagine, imagine habibi [my beloved], when a monk tells you he is late to the midnight praises because of [insert warfare here]! What do you even say to such a person? Does he know why he is there? He must know why he is there. Some people say to me, ‘you should just order them or make a rule’. I cannot do that. Monasticism has to be a free-will offering of love. You cannot force someone to love God. You cannot force someone to be at praises. You cannot force someone to be disciplined. They must choose it. I am criticised for my monastery being too ‘loose’, but I cannot force people, that is not freedom, it is not love.”
I remember those wordsin particular because they impacted my whole outlook on spiritual life ingeneral so deeply, and the very way in which I approach confession andguidance. They are the words of someone who gets it. In here is not justa marvelous teaching on freedom and love and monasticism, but also on notcaring what others think of you.
My first meeting withAnba Serapamon was when I was a novice. He came on his annual visit after theFeast of the Resurrection and he gave a talk to the whole magma3(assembly of monks and novices). He read to us the rule that Pope Shenouda IIIhad given to him when he was a novice and then monk. He distributed itto us (I can’t find it here or I would scan it to put up). He spoke with tearsabout how he followed it and how important it is for us to be ascetical, toremember our deaths, to die to ourselves and the world, otherwise we, as monasticswere in big trouble. He told us those in the world are accountable for theirlove for others: they work, they marry, they raise children. We, however, hewarned, are accountable to nobody, and, in fact, are literally living off ofthe goodwill of the people. Consequently, he said, what will you say to the JustJudge if you spend your time in the monastery eating and living for free, notpraying or developing your relationship with Christ? What can you possibly sayin excuse for yourself?
I was filled with thehealthy kind of fear and trembling. It’s monastic language, but it was exactlywhat was needed.
Asceticism: Food& Silence
At the same monastery,people spoke in front of me and mocked HG. They said that he comes from Egyptfor his annual ‘vacation’. They said that he comes to the monastery for only afew days, and then goes to Hawaii where he eats away and is on vacation. It wasalmost as if the mockery was to avoid the graveness of the matters that HG had taught.I would be a liar if I pretend that I was uninfluenced by the allegations. Itseems that humans like negativity.
It so happened that less than 9 months would pass, and I would be assigned to serve in Hawaii. I happened to be there, as recounted elsewhere, when Anba Serapamon was visiting. Now was the chance to see how he really lives. The accusations could not have been further from the truth.
As the newer priest, Igot instructions on how to care for HG. I was told to go in daily, restock hisfridge with yoghurt, cheese and small things for him to snack on. I was told tosee to it that any necessities he needed were there. Naturally, HG didn’t askfor this, but it was an offering of love.
The refrigerator was stocked fully with all these fresh foods. As HG’s son, my Bishop, was in Hawaii with him. There were many invitations for them to go out to eat and to visit the faithful of Hawaii, who wanted the blessings of both bishops. It was Paschaltide (aka ‘Holy Fifty’), and as you might imagine, a season of feasting. This was the time to eat like beasts and joke and talk.
I saw none ofthat in HG. None. Every day I went to his fridge to restock it, only to find hehad pretty much not touched it. I say pretty much, because Icouldn’t even tell if he had touched it. If he did, he could not have had anymore than a piece or two of cheese. Nothing that could be opened had beenopened. No packages were unsealed. He had no access to secret foods. The manbarely ate.
In addition to this,at the restaurants or houses we were at with those who invited Sayidna, hebarely touched his plate. Nobody let him serve himself, but if he had, then theamount he ate would be less than I could ever handle on a really ascetical day.He really barely ate.
Furthermore, what astounded me, was that HG was entirely silent. He did not once speak unless spoken to. He not once offered an opinion without explicitly being asked one. He didn’t tell stories. He didn’t joke. He didn’t look cold. He didn’t seem angry. He sat there, silently, with a smile of peace, and said nothing. It was so noticeable that as I was helping him into the car leaving somewhere one night, I whispered to him, “Sayidna, I’m learning volumes from your silence more than anything. Thank you for teaching me to [try to] keep silent.” He replied, "We never regret silence, habibi. God recompense your love."
The man had much tooffer, but he counted himself as nothing. Unless asked, he didn’t speak. Wewould all do so well to emulate this. We offer advice that is unsolicited allthe time. We weigh in on opinions and preferences and ‘shoulds’ and ‘ought tos’even when nobody cares about our opinion.
This man did not forgetthat he was a monk.
A father’s father
Anba Serapamon has aparticular relevance to my diocese. Our father, our head, is a spiritual son ofHG. Without saying too much that could be of a personal nature to our head, Iwould say that seeing our father with Anba Serapamon was like seeing a littlechild who adores his father.
One time he told ushow he was struggling to choose which monastery to consecrate his life toChrist in. He had favoured one particular monastery and visited there the most,but some events happened that made him embittered toward it and unwilling toconsecrate there. The monastery he had favoured had severe politics around it,and many monasteries would speak about it very disparagingly.
Seeking advice, he spoke to Anba Serapamon. To his joy, Anba Serapamon’s advice to him was, like the man himself, simple. He told him, “All monasteries are the house of God. Go wherever your heart finds peace.” The joy that that Bishop-to-be had in that moment at the love, kindness and wisdom of Anba Serapamon, made him decide that he would stay at that monastery and learn at his feet. Instead of seeing a man jump at the opportunity to criticise, he instead spoke Peace.
When Anba Serapamon came to Hawaii, he was invited to go on a very private glass-bottom boat tour. He neither said yes nor no, he was simply taken wherever he was told to go. So, we all get on the boat, and HG was in his element as he clearly loved nature. He was silent the whole time. The people who were driving the boat were typical Hawaiians and dressed as most Hawaiians at the beach might dress. There was a woman in her bikini. I’m bringing up this story to show you how monastically both HG and his son behaved. Anba Serapamon kept his head down and looked up only when I was taking the picture (below).
The two running theboat were so moved by him and told us so when we got off. They were veryexcited and dying to speak to him and requested to be able to talk to himthrough a translator. When they were done, they asked if they could have apicture with him. Again, HG, who had been silent and only answering specificquestions asked of him, made no comment. His son, however, knew that anypicture of him with women (which I emphasise again, he did not even look at),might be seen as scandalous. As a true son, he adamantly refused the idea. Agood father produces a good son.
The same bishop in a more intimate meeting told us that sometimes HG struggled because the presence of Pope Shenouda III in the monastery so regularly meant that he had much say over the administration and decisions of St. Pishoy’s monastery. This is inevitable to some extent. Yet, it is not any bishop who can handle that.
Often preferences of Anba Serapamon were silenced – not because His Holiness silenced him, but because Anba Serapamon silenced himself. He killed his will entirely. Not only did he kill his will, but he also killed his ego. Anba Serapamon was held responsible for many of the decisions not liked by others, that in fact were not his own decisions. He did not point that to His Holiness, he took it on himself.
Conclusions
More could be saidabout this great man, but unfortunately, I’m not the one who can tell it, nothaving grown up with him myself. I care so much because of the link I have tohim, but as said earlier, for who he is. This man was the father of thePope, numerous bishops and monks. He raised five generations of novices, monksand Bishops (that’s huge), and himself had been a monk for 61 years. Heserved the Lord with the whole of his being. He accepted taking second placewhen the preeminence of Pope Shenouda IIIs attention was lost.
To look at his face was to find peace. To see him was to see meekness. To see his smile was to fill you with joy and serenity. He was not judgmental. He did not fight for his dignity. He was a real monk.
Anba Serapamon encapsulatedfor his whole life, “He must increase, and I must decrease”. May the Lord granthim to sit with the choir of the ascetics, shining and luminescent like hisfathers who went before him. He will not be ashamed to sit at the same table asSt. Pishoy or St. John Kama.
Pray to the Lord on our behalf, Abba Serapamon, that we might use our freedom to love Him as you do.
