Over the course of 15 meetings with brother Joseph, which were always in connection of the Icon’s visit to some parish or other, we did not say even one hundred fifty words to one another. For reasons of my own, I never attempted to engage him in any kind of involved conversation. Each time I met that heavy man, I saw a man prematurely old, perennially dressed in worn, black garments, a humble person with a demeanor of intense reserve, a wide-eyed expression, a face wrinkled with illness, a face both dusky and pallid, - a serious man, but with readiness to flash a tender and courageous smile. Each time I was struck dumb by the boundless, unbearable weight and exhaustion that which he bore, by his full readiness to bear it, to the limit of his ailing body. His entire demeanor was imprinted with the grace-filled persecution that comes to one who wants to live piously. As I, in my weakness and timidity, could not help him to bear that unbearable burden, I tried at least not to be underfoot, not to bother him, not to distract him, i.e. not to add the slightest bit of extra weight to his burden. By the way, knowing myself, I recognize that my seemingly good intentions were merely a disguise for unhealthy pride, the usual spiritual pettiness of one who is proud, a fear that brother Joseph “would not pay me sufficient attention” and thereby would “humble” me.
From my spiritual instructors (from whom, of course, I learned nothing) and from books (whose true meaning remained hidden from me) I learned about the spiritual struggle of ceaseless repetition of the Jesus Prayer, and about how difficult it was to hold onto that prayer. Being personally acquainted with such men of prayer, I had only reached the point of sometimes (and not without fail) of being able to recognize from certain external signs, that someone was carrying on that ascetic struggle. I think that Brother Joseph, curator of the Icon, repeated the Jesus Prayer. The circumstances in which I would encounter brother Joseph entailed a tumult of many voices, snatches of speech, noise and conversations, a need for him to respond immediately and almost simultaneously to dozens of questions, words of welcome, requests for meetings, etc., an atmosphere that rendered it difficult for him to pray. It could not have been otherwise. Therefore, yet one more person to talk to would have caused him one more bit of harm. I did not want to be that person.
Finally, I cannot fail to confess that I hoped that there would come some fortuitous circumstance by which I would have the opportunity to really have a conversation with brother Joseph, which would be no burden for him, and which would do me some good. The Lord did not give His blessing. Glory to God for all things.