An old monk, a true ascetic, comes to our monastery from time to time to ask for a little help. With what he receives, he feeds himself and also helps others, older than himself.

One day he came for his usual visit and said to one of the brethren of the monastery, "I hope I am not being too much trouble to you, coming and asking for your help. If I am too much bother, don't worry yourself, I needn't come again. Don't worry about it; a monk is like a dog. If you give him a kick, that does him good, and if you don't give him a kick, but a piece of bread instead, that does him good as well." This old man, although he is seventy-five, does not expect anyone to respect him. He thinks of himself as a dog. He bows to everyone and asks their blessing, not only to the monks but also to the novices and to the pilgrims who come to us. But he is full of such inexpressible grace that a joyful sense of celebration runs through the monastery every time he comes...

In humble men like this, who radiate grace, one feels that two great virtues are always at work: the mystery of repentance and the mystery of love. They are not men who have been converted, who have repented. They are men who are being converted, who are repenting. The Lord's call to repentance does not mean that we are to be converted once only, nor that we should repent from time to time (though one ought to begin with that). It means that our whole life should be a conversion, a constant repentance.

Archimandrite Vasileios. Hymn of Entry