Meeting the Archimandrite
The Archimandrite was a tall, thin old man with long gray hair and a beard. He had a serious look, reminiscent of the historical figure John Knox. Having spent forty-six years in the peaceful hills of Studenitza, he knew little of the outside world and had never left Serbia. Yet, despite his stern appearance, he had a warm and beautiful smile. “Nearly fifty years ago, when I arrived here, I promised myself to never regret my choice. And I have kept that promise. I am content,” he said. He added that it was quiet in the monastery and noted that it is difficult for a stranger from England to reach. With that, he offered to show me to my room A Visit to Studenitza Monastery.
A Peaceful Room
My room was wonderfully restful. It was simple but offered a sense of calm. The thick walls and shadows created a cool atmosphere, while narrow windows framed views of the surrounding hills. A peasant, dressed in traditional white garb, was there to assist me. He welcomed me with a small glass of whisky made from plums, some preserved cherries, icy water, and a tiny cup of Turkish coffee. Throughout this, the peasant stood still, holding a tray like a statue. This marked the beginning of my peaceful stay at Studenitza Monastery.
The Church and Its History
High walls surrounded the monastery sanctuary, and in the center stood the church, built of beautiful white marble from nearby quarries. This church dates back to the twelfth century, a time when the Serbs, having come from beyond the Volga, began to form their own nation.
This is where Stephen, the first crowned King of Serbia, was made ruler, and it is also where he rests. The Archimandrite opened the double coffin for me to see the remains of the sainted king. He was shrouded in cloth, and on his chest lay a golden cross, which contained a small piece of wood believed by many to be part of the true Cross Istanbul Day Tour.
The Pilgrims’ Devotion
As the Archimandrite and I entered the church, several countrymen who had traveled for two days over the hills to attend an upcoming festival followed us in. They stood back respectfully, aware that the sight of the shrouded King Stephen was not for common peasants. However, after I had looked closely, the Archimandrite invited the peasants to come forward.
With heads bowed, they crossed themselves and kissed the edge of the outer coffin. They also kissed the cross and the covered forehead of the King, crossing themselves again afterward. The sunbaked faces of these rugged men glowed with joy, for they felt honored to have this special moment. It was a precious opportunity to connect with their history and heritage, and their devotion filled the church with a sense of sacredness.
