Holy Myrrhbearers Monastery
Dr. Elizabeth Theokritoff, author and scholar at the Institute of Orthodox Christian Studies at Cambridge, is a long-time friend of our community. She and her late husband George prepared a “Guide to the Pilgrim Nature Trails at Holy Myrrhbearers Monastery.” She also planted many of the bulbs that now come up each spring. We spoke to her about her recent article, “Keeping This Place: Contemplative Vision and Ecological Living as Christian Witness: An Orthodox View.” During the video interview, she showed off a wool rug in her office, woven from yarn from our sheep Bluebell and Smisko.
HMB: Your article tells a story:
A monk, seemingly idle, is challenged: “What are you doing here?” And he replies, “I am keeping this place.” This sounds familiar to us at Holy Myrrhbearers, where much of our attention is on the fields and gardens, sheep and goats, chickens and cats… But your main claim may surprise some people, that “monastic communities … are the epicenter of Orthodox ecological living today.” Why do you say this?
ETh: Simply, in most places monasteries are the only church institutions that set an example of living in a way that makes environmental sense: taking only what they need, working respectfully with the other creatures, animate and inanimate, on whom their everyday life depends. Some monasteries are not keen on the new-fangled language of “environmentalism”; they see themselves as simply living and working in the traditional way, as of course they are. That in itself sets a striking and counter-cultural example in the 21st century. But it is also true that when in the 1980s and ’90s people started talking about an environmental crisis and how the Orthodox Churches should respond, it was monastic communities above all that saw the point: that “environmental” actions are not simply something we undertake as an obligation, to be responsible citizens, but the way we live our theology in daily life. The Ormylia Project in northern Greece was probably the earliest example, going over to organic farming and serving as a model and source of technical advice for local farmers. Chrysopigi in western Crete has a very active Environmental Education Centre, set on a mountainside that is like a little paradise; a habitat for many endemic plants, some very rare, dotted with cave chapels where hermits once lived. In this conservation area, there are completely new monastic buildings – which look as if they have grown out of the rock. It is an extraordinary affirmation that humans really can share and contribute in their own unique way to the natural landscape: we are not doomed always to be destroyers. Then Holy Forerunner monastery, near Larisa, is an outstanding example of “circular economy”, and among other things grows many heritage varieties of vegetables in order to harvest and distribute the seeds.
HMB: Monasteries, in their intentional isolation, are often considered to have little impact on society, so isn’t it counter-intuitive that they would have a special mission related to the environment?
ETh: I think a lot of people today, young people especially, are frustrated by endless words that don’t translate into action; hence the importance of example. In the Orthodox Church, it has to be said that there is a shocking gap between the profoundly moving, inspiring and beautiful way in which hierarchs and theologians talk about our vision of all creation in its relationship to God, and the attitudes and thinking typical of parishes, which largely seem to take their cue from the surrounding society in environmental matters. I know that monasteries don’t set out to make a statement and have an influence; but people seek them out even so, and it seems to me that monasteries often have quite a profound influence on the local Orthodox community, not least by their example of how to live our faith, our theology, in every facet of life. I talked about the importance of going beyond words, to action; but the monastic life also teaches us the importance of going beyond activism. Activism has a place; holding governments and powerful businesses to account, for instance, can be a responsible way to use the power that Christians “in the world”
have as citizens of democracies. But ultimately, shouting at other people for doing the wrong thing cannot be a substitute for conforming our own lives so that they speak wordlessly the faith that we profess.
HMB: You mention that the Orthodox monastic approach to the “sacredness” of the earth can be “a powerful witness to ‘post-Christian’ spiritual seekers” who care deeply about the environment. Orthodox parishes across the country are seeing a surge in catechumens. Here at Holy Myrrhbearers, increasing numbers of people (including catechumens and inquirers) have been reaching out to visit, and they are thrilled to spend time in nature and with our animals. Could some of these trends be related to seekers coming “through the creation to the Creator” as you describe?
ETh: Yes, that is exactly what I had in mind. For many people today, the natural world is their portal to awe, wonder, and a sense of humility in the face of something immeasurably greater than themselves. It might be the wonders of astrophysics, the amazing world of fungi or a sequinned spider’s web on a misty day – the point in that they encounter this sense of the “transcendent” in/through creation. And the tragedy is that too often, if they have an intuition of a spiritual something beyond nature itself and want to explore it further, they don’t even think of looking for it in the Christian tradition; they have an unexamined belief that the two paths are mutually exclusive. So when they are introduced to a Christian way of life that incorporates our relationship with the natural world, as a world of fellow-servants of the Lord – it is not surprising that they would be thrilled.
Another thing that converts to Orthodoxy are sometimes looking for is a sense of rootedness, connection with place. This rings alarm bells among some Orthodox, because they are aware how easily connection with place can slide into an exclusive and confrontational nativism or nationalism. That sort of tendency has deep roots in our animal nature: the instinct is to defend our territory. Monasteries, on the other hand, give us an example of a connection with place that is “not according to the flesh”. It is love and care for the place that God has appointed to contribute to one’s sanctification and be sanctified in turn – not a place that is “mine”. This year, I have had the blessing of visiting two holy islands – first Iona, off the west coast of Scotland, and then Patmos. It is striking to reflect that both these palpably holy places were sanctified in the first instance by saints – St. Columba and St. John the Theologian – for whom it was a place of exile.
HMB: In your own visits to monasteries, you come both as Orthodox pilgrim and as a scholar. Can you share some of your experiences that contributed to your theological understanding? How do you see the Orthodox ecological witness active at American monasteries like ours?
ETh: Talking about formative experiences is difficult, because the teaching, the formation is very subtle; it may be decades later, if at all, that you realise how you have been shaped by spending time in a particular community. Archbishop Alexander of Dallas has described this brilliantly in some remarkable talks about his Elder, Aimilianos of Simonopetra – who was also the founder and elder of the Ormylia, and one of the pioneers of ecological involvement in his monasteries.
Monasteries, rural ones especially, provide a living example of an integrated way of life. Not of course a life where everything is perfect harmony; but one with a seamless interface between material and spiritual life, prayer and worship and daily chores. This is very much the way most people would have lived in their villages until a couple of generations ago. But when you think of it, it also connects with the understanding of monasticism as “the angelic life”. The angels who are precisely messengers, ministering spirits, also join in the triumphal hymn; but it seems to me not to make much sense to think of them as singing praises to God “in their spare time”. Their ceaseless ministrations must be their never-silent hymn.
Something I have found in monasteries, I would say, is that all aspects of life have a certain liturgical quality. So what I have called the “integrated life” is a sort of circular economy with spiritual as well as physical dimensions. You see this very tangibly at Holy Myrrhbearers; you might buy a prayer rope, then be introduced to the sheep whose wool it is made of. You see it in the structure of the day, with the constant back-and-forth between praying the services and getting on with all the daily tasks that a monastery, like any other household, or farm, has to deal with. And every so often there is an image, an icon of this integration. Some years ago, there was a wonderful photo of one of the Sisters carrying a bale of hay to the sheep through the snow. She is carrying the bale on her shoulder, so the figure mirrors exactly the icon of the Good Shepherd carrying the lost sheep – a profound illustration of what it means to image the Lord in creation. It is the sort of thing one can imagine St Ephrem the Syrian writing a twenty-stanza hymn about.
My impressions seem to be rather a lot about sheep – but then so are the Gospels. +
Dr. Elizabeth Theokritoff (eat38@cam.ac.uk) is an associate lecturer and supervisor at the Institute of Orthodox Christian Studies, Cambridge (www.iocs.cam.ac.uk). Her article is found at Brill.com.
From Essays & Notes vol. 22, no. 2, Fall 2025