February 10

From the Prologue

Prochorus was a miracle-worker of the Monastery of the Caves in Kiev. He is called the Orach-Eater because during the time that he lived in the Monastery of the Caves he did not taste of bread, rather he fed on orach, mixing it in his own way and from it prepared a type of bread. Whenever he would give someone his orach bread with a blessing, the bread tasted sweet as though prepared from honey; if someone stole the bread, it was as bitter as wormwood. One time when there was a shortage of salt in Russia, Prochorus distributed ashes to the people as though it were salt. The ashes, which he distributed with his blessing, were as salt. However, the ashes which someone would take on their own, was as ordinary ashes. Prince Svyatopolk ordered all the ashes from Prochorus' cell be taken to his palace without the permission and the blessing of the monk, Prochorus. When the ashes were removed, those who tasted of it were convinced that it was ashes and not salt. Then Prochorus told the people who came to him for salt to go to the emperor's palace and when the prince tosses out the ashes from his residence, to take them and carry them home as though they were salt. The people did so and again, the ashes were as salt. Believing in this, the prince himself was filled with respect and love toward the holy Prochorus, so that when he died in the year 1107 A.D., the prince, with his own hands, placed Prochorus in the tomb along side the great Russian Saints Anthony and Theodosius.

(*) Any plant of the genus Atriplex cultivated for use like spinach.



The untrained sword brandished over Haralambos, only to be lowered!

The saint knelt, and a petition to God, raises

O Lord, release me!

Of all sinful men, release the sins;

Have mercy again

Bless their labor and on the field grant abundant fruit!

Let them have everything; blood and flesh they are

Let them sing to you

O grant them health; health and joy,

Let them remember You!

Every evil drive away, from misery save them,

Have mercy on them all,

And after death, to Paradise take their souls,

Lord Have mercy!

Whoever, to Your Haralambos, prays,

And my name mentions,

Help him O God, because of my suffering,

Help because of me!

Then, from heaven, a voice came: I accept your prayer

Now render me your soul!

The saint, his soul releases and to Paradise flies

Before the sword falls!

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