Thank you ! If I were near a place which sold these, I would buy a lot and put them all over, even in cars. Think of how automotive or boat engines can mysteriously catch fire.
Back to Metropolitan Philaret of Kiev, here are 2 stories which illustrate his unassuming personality and kindly disposition. The first resulted in merely embarrassment to the offending party, a pompous Priestmonk ; the second was a close shave for the good-natured prelate.
This was told by a Father Theofan at Pskov Caves Monastery in 1926, showing that the memory of the Kiev prelate was still fresh in distant corners of the land 70 years later.
Met Philaret was a member of the Holy Synod at the time and a recipient of the Grand Cross of St Andrew and other decorations. He was even received by the Royal Family. He had many tough times due to persecution by people who opposed his stand for truth and ascetic ways. Met Philaret was found to be innocent of whatever the charges were against him and rapidly elevated.
So, once when traveling to a Synod meeting by coach [ horse drawn carriage, it must mean ], he wanted to visit a monastery in Kursk province. The Metropolitan alighted and went ahead so as to arrive sooner, as the ponderous coach crawled along. He was carried in a peasant cart and wore no panagia or sign of his episcopacy.
The Liturgy was beginning in a side chapel of this unnamed monastery, with only a few people attending. There was no one even to go before the priest with a candle, so the Metropolitan turned to a hieromonk, asking him to do this task. This hieromonk responded with a self-important air : "I am not an acolyte. Carry the candle YOURSELF !"
The Metropolitan meekly obeyed that order, walking before the priest carrying a candle.
As the Liturgy concluded, the Archimandrite of the monastery came in to the chapel with other members of the brethren to meet the impromptu high ranking visitor. When the hieromonk saw the ceremonious greeting, he felt ashamed of his pomposity [ today we would call this syndrome narcissistic personality disorder ! ].
But the Metropolitan never showed that he was displeased with the hieromonk's behavior. Imagine such self-control !
2nd story : The Too-Costly Walking Stick
"...the Metropolitan became very interested in the Starets and began to observe him attentively. He decided to visit the Starets in his cell in order to reach a final conclusion concerning the unjust slanders brought against him. The Metropolitan would set out for Feofil's cell often, but each time Feofil tried to prevent Vladika from engaging in idle curiosity. Once the Starets even walled up to the door of his cell with brushwood and smeared it with clay so that the Metropolitan was forced to turn back.
Finally, Vladika, accompanied by his cell-mate, managed to arrive and find Feofil at home. The Blessed One received the high guest very cordially, seating him on the little bench while he went about preparing the samovar. When the water began to boil, he carried the samovar over to the centre of the room, put it on the floor and placed an earthenware bowl under the tap. Then he took the Archpastor's wooden staff and looked at it attentively from all sides.
"And what is this stick worth?" the Blessed One asked, looking at Vladika.
"It's worth nothing," replied the Metropolitan.
"No," said the Starets. "It's worth all of twenty-five rubles."
And with these words he placed the staff on the bowl which was standing under the samovar, removed the tap and threw it into the corner. The water ran out onto the staff, filled the bowl and overflowed onto the floor. Vladika stood up in great confusion, walked across the wet floor and hurried out of the cell.
Several days passed.
It was June and the weather was bright and pleasant. Vladika decided to go for a walk in the woods alone. His manner of dress was such that he looked almost no different from the monks at Goloseyevo. He wore only a simple cassock and cap, carried a plain walking stick in one hand and a Gospel or Apostle in the other. He looked more like a monastery starets than a Metropolitan.
Near the end of the Goloseyevo woods there was a knoll and there, near a fence, stood a plain garden bench on which Vladika always rested. This was Vladika's favourite place because from here there was such a magnificent view; both the city and the Lavra were spread out before the eyes. Enjoying the solitude, the Metropolitan used to sit here for hours at a time, and lifting his saintly hands to heaven, he would send up his secret prayers for the well-being of those living in the holy city and the Pecherskaya Lavra.
This time he wished to perform his usual prayer and knelt down, but just then a man with a club approached him from behind the bushes and, pointing to his cudgel, he asked the Metropolitan:
"And what is this stick worth?"
Vladika wanted to bless him, but the stranger quickly made his aim known:
"Don't bother, just give me what you have of value."
The Metropolitan peacefully pulled out his purse in which there were twenty-five rubles and said, while handing it over:
"Well, brother, I'm sorry for you. There is very little here."
But when Vladika had drawn the flaps of his cassock in order to pull out the purse, the robber had noticed a gold watch with a chain.
"If there is so little here, then give me your watch and chain as well."
Vladika peacefully fulfilled the demand.
"Aha!" said the stranger. "It seems to be gold."
"What of it?" Vladika began. "It would be to your advantage, brother. . ."
"How is it that you are a monk, but you have a gold watch? Or perhaps you are not an ordinary monk? Perhaps you are a treasurer or something like that?"
"No, I am not a treasurer."
"Then who are you?"
"To tell the truth, I am called Metropolitan."
"Metropolitan !!" the stranger cried dumbfounded.
"Well, yes. What is it, my dear one, that makes you so alarmed? The Lord be with you."
The stranger fell at his feet.
"Well, brother, get up and accompany me home and please don't be afraid of anything."
As they approached the hermitage, Vladika turned to speak to the unfortunate one:
"It would be wise, brother, if you gave me back the watch and chain. You see, it is engraved with my name. Who knows what trouble you may get into when you try to sell them. It would be better if you stayed here a while. You can join us as a wanderer and I'll even add some money."
The stranger gave back the watch and Vladika proceeded on to the cottage. Meeting his cell-mate, Father Sergei, in the porch, he ordered him to go quickly to the gate where he would find a wanderer who had been kind enough to accompany him, and invite him in. The cell-mate went beyond the gates, but the stranger had vanished.
"What an unkind person," the Metropolitan said. "Well, may the Lord be with him."
http://livingorthodoxfaith.blogspot.com ... art-8.html
What is interesting is that in that day, even a robber showed respect for the head of the Church in the entire area. He gasped when told by Met Philaret -- who did not immediately volunteer this information, showing no wish to impress anyone whether important dignitary or miscreant -- that he was the Metropolitan. The man bowed down. Can one imagine this happening today anywhere in the Western world when the traditional regard for clergy has diminished under concerted media attack by a variety of nefarious forces ?
Or, under Soviet rule, where Communist hatred of the Orthodox Church resulted in far worse fates of prelates than having a near brush with a robber wielding a cudgel ?