The Hawaiian Iveron Icon of the Mother of God
I heard this story from Fr. Nectarios Yangson, the guardian of the myrrh-streaming, wonderworking Hawaiian Iveron Icon of the Mother of God. He told this story when he visited our St. John the Forerunner Church in Washington recently.
The Hawaiian Icon is a smaller copy of the Montreal Iveron Icon, which streamed myrrh for fifteen years but disappeared in October 1997 when its guardian, Br. José Muñoz-Cortes, was killed in Athens. The new icon began to stream myrrh also in October—on October 6, 2006. Since then, it has been traveling throughout the Orthodox world, streaming myrrh almost continuously. Many miracles have occurred through prayers before the icon, and people believe that the Mother of God sent it to comfort us.
Perhaps the miracles don’t happen right away—or not the ones we ask for. Often, they happen not to us, but to someone else. But I believe that the Lord and the Theotokos show through them, including to me, that they’re near. They help me in a way that it’s for my benefit, and if for some reason instant help is delayed, that means it’s for the better. And sometimes I realize that even the miracles that happened to someone else are for my consolation too.
During the service at our church, Fr. Nectarios spoke about how the saints aren’t abstract “pictures on the wall”—they’re living and acting right now. He talked about how at the start of the war in the Middle East last year, people saw a man named John dressed in a hair shirt, offering consolation to them. And in monasteries in Greece, the monks aren’t surprised if St. Seraphim of Sarov comes to serve with them.
Those who had heard Fr. Nectarios speak before admitted that they’d never heard such a heartfelt sermon. He concluded his story with an incredible incident from his own life:
Fr. Nectarios Yangson
We were traveling in England, and we happened to go to Oxford to a small church of the Moscow Patriarchate. A beautiful little church, and there must have been hundreds of people there…
And I noticed that there was a couple who had brought in their daughter, quietly, and they sat her next to me in the stasidii, in the area where the kliros is located in that particular church. And they saw her there and I was looking at her, and I could see that she was in incredible agony. She was moaning and groaning in pain.
And I saw that she had these wounds on her arms, and I looked and it was on parts of her face, on her neck, on her legs. I could tell that she was a sick child.
I looked at her, and I kind of whispered to her, and she kind of looked over at me, and she kind of just smiled a little bit and then put her back down. And I could see that this child was in such incredible pain. And she must have maybe four, maybe three. I mean, that young.
Apparently, it’s a Romanian family. They were searching for a cure, for a miracle to help their child. And they heard that the Mother of God is coming to that little part of Britain, and perhaps she could help. They trusted her. They had their faith in her, they showed their faith in God and besought the Mother of God’s intercession to Him before the throne.
So, the bishop [Vladyka Irenei of Great Britain and Western Europe—OC] gives the sermon, and at the end, the priest of the parish signals to this family to bring their child over so that she could be anointed first.
And Vladyka looks at her and he looks at me. And he had a little vial off myrrh they were anointing all the people with, and he opened up the vial and poured it in his hands. And he took his hands and just wiped her face, wiped her arms, her legs.
This is a hard story to tell, I’m sorry. Because it’s a little bit of my Confession as well. Because of that point, I—the guardian of the Mother of God, someone who’s seen so many miracles, who’s been witness to incredible phenomena, for lack of a better word—couldn’t understand what took place at that moment. Because as the bishop was anointing her with his hands and rubbing her legs and her arms and her neck and her face, she let out the most ungodly and incredibly terrifying scream I have ever heard. It was bone-chilling. It was hard to listen to.
I was sitting there on the side of the kliros and witnessing this. It’s hard for me to talk about, still to this day. It’s been several years. But I sat there, and I asked God that one question we should never ask. And what is the question? “Why? Why is this causing her pain? Why is this holy, Heavenly, grace-filled myrrh, this soothing ointment that comes to us from Heaven, why is it causing her pain? Why?”
So much I’ve seen. So much I know. And yet, as it says in the Gospel, O ye of little faith.
It was difficult for the clergy, the people, and the family. They took the child and they left quickly. They kind of ushered her out very quickly and left. And the anointing continued.
So, the next day we’re leaving Oxford. And it’s four of us in the car: myself, a deacon, a monk, and the bishop. And the bishop gets a phone call. And all he says on that phone call is: “Glory to God! Glory to God! Glory to God!”
And then he hangs up. And there’s silence in the car, and me being the former police officer-detective that I was, and the very inquisitive person that I am, I spoke out of turn, saying: “Vladyka, who was that?”
And Vladyka turns and says: “Remember that little girl that gave that bone-chilling scream when I anointed her with the holy myrrh?” and we answered: “Yes,” and he said: “The Mother of God healed her.”
They came back to the church that morning and showed the priest what had taken place. Apparently earlier, they heard her giggling, laughing, and talking in her room. And then went up to the door and as they’re opening the door, they asked her: “Who are you talking to?” “A lady.”
And they turned on the light and they saw she was completely healed. All her wounds were gone. Apparently she has a type of eczema that developed blisters, and when they would pop it would feel like acid on her skin. And this child had lived with that infirmity since the day she was born. She knew nothing but pain all her life. This was her life—pain, suffering. And then the Mother of God healed her.
So the saints aren’t pictures on a wall. They’re with us. They love us, they want us to be closer to Him. They want us to be able to touch Him, to grasp Him, to be embraced by the Father through Him. They don’t want us to be forgotten and they don’t want us to be placed apart in the darkness, separated from the Divine light. They want us to be one with God again.
And how do we do that? Christ tells us. He said: “What are the greatest commandments? To love the Lord Thy God with all your heart, all your being, and that you love one another as you do yourself.”
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This story is part of the homily that Fr. Nectarios gave at St. John the Baptist in Washington, D.C., on September 11, 2024:
