A Holy Relative
Thirty-something years ago, when I was in my native village talking with my grandfather about our relatives, he told me that I had another grandfather who had died in the USA and who could help me immensely. At that time, I thought that by telling me that, my grandfather was just trying to support me in my childhood dreams because people used to talk about America as a land where people could make their American Dream come true. My grandfather also said that it was forbidden to talk about Ivan, that "mysterious" ancestor of mine, and that in reality he had a different name. He added that Ivan had "worked" in Church and warned me not to tell anybody anything about it because they would fire my dad. I wasn't pleased to hear that because I had two brothers and two sisters and huge plans with regard to my dad and his salary. My grandfather never mentioned my "relative" from the USA again, and I completely forgot about him. No one except my father was baptised in my family. We did not go to church and celebrated Easter as unbelievers…
It was like a
miracle that an unexpected guest came to our village in August 1993 (during the
war in the former Yugoslavia) — Amphilochius, Metropolitan of Montenegro and
Primorje, took an unofficial visit. I don't know how I found myself near the
church on that day but I came to him, embarassed, and asked for his blessing.
He did not pay attention to my nescience and said that he came to visit the
home of the first Serbian metropolitan in America. I realized that my
grandfather's brother from the States was that very person, because it seemed
to me that they were some kind of "colleagues"… Metropolitan
Amphilochius told me that he would return some day. It was after that talk when
I realized, that I did not need to be afraid of "dad's losing his job"
or anything else in the future because his prayers have started to have effect…
My first step
was my baptism (in 2002). Again, miraculously, I was chrismated by Metropolitan
Amphilochius. I thought a lot about Metropolitan Mardarije after my baptism but
the only thing I knew about him was a poem, "Building a church, he is
dying of hunger". At that time the borders swung open and all roads led to
America. All that was left for me was humbling myself down and waiting for
God's help. I had to face temptations in the very beginning of my path: people
would not only advise me to do something different but even that I was a
"sectarian" who "went astray from the highway of today."
Meanwhile, the
ruined house of Mardarije in our village carried me further and further away:
who was that Metropolitan Mardarije - Ivan Uskokovi? There must be some info
about him on the Internet! He meant much more to me than just a random Internet
search: he united me with God through his prayer. When God made a step towards
me - it was thanks to his prayers. I read in a
book that he was born on November 2, 1889 in "my" village Kornet.
When he was 11, he asked the then Metropolitan of Montenegro to make him a
monk. The metropolitan refused, so he went to study in Belgrade.
The young hieromonk was blessed to organize the Serbian mission in the USA in the year 1917. He became an archimandrite in Philadelphia, PA, the same year. These years were very difficult ones for the Serbian emigrees who dreamt of building the first Serbian church in the. They took money on loan from Montenegrin immigrants and bought a nice land plot not far from Chicago… Father Mardarije had caught TB by that time, and the doctors advised him against physical labor. Physical exhaustion caused by constant malnutrition also had its toll on his health… He was elected a bishop on December 7, 1925, and was consecrated as the Bishop of the USA and Canada on April 25, 1926.
Metropolitan
Mardarije passed away on December 12, 1935.
Metropolitan
Amphilochius kept his promise and visited us in the native village of
Metropolitan Mardarije again. It was in 2010 on Christmas Eve. He told us that
Metropolitan Mardarije was a saint (and I thought to myself, that he must know it
better than we do) and he told my younger sister (who is now a novice in Pecka
Patriarsija Convent) and me: "You'll become something." I recognized
it as a blessing to become a nun.
By God's will,
Metropolitan Mardarije was canonized for his boundless love on May 29, 2015, by
the Synod of Bishops of the Serbian Orthodox Church. Two days after that, my
father reposed in the Lord and was buried near the St George Church where St. Mardarije had been baptized.
Thank God!
