Photo: doxologia.ro/Magda Buftea
In May, Gerondissa Makaria (Desipri), former abbess of the Holy Annunciation Monastery in Nea Makri, who was vouchsafed to uncover the relics of St. Ephraim of Nea Makri in 1950, has been formally proposed for canonization.
The person through whom St. Ephraim the New deigned to reveal himself to the whole world was Nun Macaria. She was born Margarita Desipri on March 12, 1911, in the village of Thataladi on the island of Tinos in the Aegean Sea. Her parents were pious people; her maternal grandfather was a priest named Fr. Antonios, and she loved him very much. God blessed the Desipri family with the birth of many children, with two daughters becoming nuns, and their son Andrei a priest. Only he is still alive. God called him to special ascetic labors.
During the occupation of Greece in 1941–1945, she volunteered to visit and comfort women prisoners in Athens. She entered a monastery on December 11, 1930, and was tonsured into monasticism with the name Macaria on June 31, 1932. Aflame with zeal for knowledge of the saints of God and desiring to know how they lived and labored in ancient times, she retired to the area of Nea Makri, which, according to tradition, was one of the oldest centers of hesychasm.
In the summer of 1945, walking around the area of Nea Makri on the Attica peninsula, she went to light a lampada in the ruins of what would later be revealed to her as an ancient stavropegial monastery from the “Mountain of the Immaculate Ones.” She immediately began to sense that this place was holy—the place where, by the grace of God, she would remain until the end of her life.
She built herself a cell there and continued to lead a monastic life, working at night to provide herself with the necessities of life, and during the day, when not in church, exploring the ruins of the ancient Annunciation Church and the ancient cells. She lived in harsh conditions, warming herself in the winter with nothing but her fervent prayers to God and a cloak left by a shepherd when he realized someone was living there.
After her long prayers and unrelenting desire to know how the holy ascetics of this place lived, the Savior Christ revealed to Macaria the remains of the holy New Martyr Ephraim. This occurred on January 3, 1950, when Nun Macaria was forty years old, that is, when she was approaching the age of the one whose relics were revealed to her by the Savior. How wonderfully God acted, giving Nun Macaria not a single word in response, but a saint very close to her in age. Truly, God’s most magnificent beauties are the saints.
Nun Macaria’s story about uncovering the relics
of St. Ephraim in the ruins of an ancient monastery
Sheltering among the ruins of the ancient monastery, where holy providence had directed my steps, I turned my inner gaze to years gone by, to ancient times, when the remains of saints were scattered everywhere, having stained and watered the tree of Orthodoxy with their blood.
While cleaning these ruins, I thought about how I was in a holy place, and prayed: “O Lord my God, grant me, Thy humble servant, to see one of the fathers who labored here.” And after some time, during which I prayed unceasingly, I heard a voice within me, telling me, “Dig there, and you’ll find what you desire.” And I was mystically shown a spot on the monastery porch. Time passed, and the voice commanded me more and more fervently: “Dig there, and you’ll find what you desire.”
Photo: doxologia.ro/Magda Buftea
Then I showed this place to a worker whom I had invited to do a little work. Only, he didn’t want to dig where the inner voice had shown me. He wanted to dig somewhere a bit further away. Seeing his stubbornness, I told him to dig where he wanted, and I prayed that he wouldn’t be able to, that he’d hit a rock and have to go to the spot that the mystical voice had shown me. And finally, after trying three or four places and hitting a rock every time, he returned to the spot I had initially shown him.
Everything there—the hearth, three niches, a half-collapsed wall—indicated that there had been a monk’s cell here at one time, and these ruins remained to tell us about the drama that took place there. I cleared away the rocks piled up on it and the worker started digging. He was quite annoyed, a little angry, and I was afraid he would destroy something.
I told him:
“Take your time. Don’t overstrain yourself, take it easy.”
But he continued to dig the same way, as if he hadn’t heard me.
I told him:
“Someone might be buried here, and you could break something. Please, be careful!”
Then he understood and told me:
“Do you really think this thought that came into your head is true?”
And I really was so sure, as if I’d seen it myself. He dug deeper and deeper, and when he got a little deeper than 5.5 feet deep, his shovel first revealed the skull of the man of God. And at that exact moment, an inexpressible fragrance wafted all around. The worker immediately turned pale, unable to speak, and his breathing stopped.
“Leave me here alone, I ask you,” I told him, and he walked away.
I reverently fell to my knees and embraced the saint’s remains, deeply sensing the greatness of his martyrdom. My soul was filled with joy. I had found a great treasure.
Then, carefully raking the earth, I completely uncovered all his relics, which, despite being underground for many centuries, had not decayed.
I realized it was a cleric, because, shoveling aside the dirt on top of his holy hands, I saw the edges of the sleeve of his cassock. There was also not the slightest trace of dirt on his garment; it was very clean, roughly sewn and trimmed in an old-fashioned way, with thread more than a millimeter thick.
When I had cleared the spot where his feet were, I again uncovered the border of a clean cassock, the same as at his sleeves, while the footprints of the saint were imprinted on the soil.
I didn’t know what to do, whether to rejoice or weep, and I asked myself: How did a man of God wind up buried here? What happened? What did his eyes see? I thought there must have been some amazing drama.
I tried to clean the dirt off of him, but the bones in his hands broke. It started raining into the grave, so I laid out the remains, as they were, in a niche above the grave. But what can I tell you about the rain that started? You could say that the sky poured out silvery drops, sprinkling the saint in his grave.
It was evening, so I started reading Vespers; I was still alone in this holy place where God sent me. Then suddenly I heard footsteps starting from the grave and headed for the courtyard. They reached the church door. They were strong and decisive steps, and I felt it was the tread of a powerful man. That was the only time I got scared. I could feel all my blood running cold in my veins, and paralyzed by fear, I couldn’t even turn back.
Then I heard his voice telling me:
“How long will you keep me here? And him, who put my head like that…!”
I turned around and saw him. He was tall, with small, round eyes and slight wrinkles in the corner. His beard covered his neck, and from there it divided into three parts. It was black and a little curly.
He was wearing monastic clothing; he held a very bright candle in his left hand, and blessed with his right. My soul was filled with bliss and indescribable joy. My courage and strength returned to me. My fear disappeared. I felt him near me and I told him:
“Forgive me. Tomorrow, as soon as the sun rises, I’ll take care of you.”
He immediately became invisible, and I calmly finished Vespers.
The next day, after Matins, I took the holy relics, cleaned them, washed them and put them in a niche in the holy altar, and lit a candle next to them.
That evening, I saw the holy man of God in a dream, standing on the right side of the church and holding a shining icon with his image on it. The icon was life-sized, hand-painted, and overlaid with antique silver. There was a large candlestick next to it, where I put a candle made of pure wax.
And I heard him say to me:
“Thank you very much. My name is Ephraim.”
Time passed, and I was tormented by uncertainty about what happened. Then one day after Vespers, when I was already reaching to close the church door, I heard three knocks, like someone was knocking with an amber prayer rope. I realized it was the saint. I went into the altar where his holy relics were, and having lit a candle, I made a prostration. What can I tell you? How can I put into words the feeling that I felt in the presence of the Heavenly fragrance coming from his holy relics? A true abyss engulfed my entire being. I felt Paradise within me, and at the same time my nothingness before this greatness.
Nun Macaria
By her life and tireless testimony, Nun Macaria announced to everyone what St. Ephraim the New had revealed to her. A monastery dedicated to the great martyr was erected on the spot where his holy relics were found. Until the end of her life, Eldress Macaria was a true model of faith and prayer, following, as far as possible, the labors and eremitic asceticism of St. Ephraim.
Blessed Macaria passed away into eternity on April 23, 1999, on the feast of St. George, at the age of eighty-eight.
Eldress Macaria (Desipri), a highly spiritual nun, was given to hear these words from St. Ephraim: “I will work many miracles!” St. Ephraim works miracles, he’s a great wonderworker; he’s spiritually similar to St. Raphael of Mytilene.
Photo: doxologia.ro/Magda Buftea
“I will work many miracles!” St. Ephraim told Eldress Macaria, appearing to her directly. “I will help many people, before their suffering begins!... Before their misfortunes begin.”
I myself heard this more than once from Igumena Macaria, abbess of the monastery of Nea Makri. She’s a very spiritual nun. St. Ephraim revealed himself to her. He was buried 500 years ago and showed her the place where he was buried. She dug there and found his relics. St. Ephraim works many miracles.
Without a doubt, if we consider the Scriptures and the prophecies of the Fathers, we are destined for torments if we don’t repent…
