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Re: Igumen Nikon Vorobev

Unread postby Georgios Rossos » Sat Nov 19, 2011 4:27 pm

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«Με την μετάνοια, υπομονή και ταπείνωση, σώζετε τις ψυχές σας:
Με την μετάνοια, επειδή εμείς αμαρτάνουμε συνεχεία.
Με την υπομονή, επειδή "ο υπομείνας εις τέλος, ούτος σωθήσεται" (Μτ. 10, 22), και
Με την ταπείνωση, επειδή ο Θεός "ταπεινοίς δίδωσι χάριν" (Ίακ. 4, 6)».
(Ηγούμενος Νίκων)
Το πιο σημαντικό πράγμα είναι να μετανοούμε παντοτινά
Οι περισσότεροι άνθρωποι δεν καταλαβαίνουν τον Χριστιανισμό. Μερικοί όμως τον έχουν καταλάβει. Κατάλαβαν ότι το πιο σημαντικό πράγμα είναι να αναγκάζουμε τον εαυτό μας και να εκτελούμε τις εντολές του Χριστού, να μετανοούμε για τα ελαττώματα μας και τις παραβάσεις των εντολών, να μετανοούμε παντοτινά, να θεωρούμε τον εαυτό μας ακατάλληλο για την βασιλεία του Θεού, να ικετεύουμε τον Κύριο να μας δώσει την χάρη Του όπως στον Τελώνη. Αυτή είναι ή εντολή μου, εντολή ανθρώπου πού σε λίγο θα πεθάνει. Να μετανοείτε, να θεωρείτε τον εαυτό σας, σαν τον Τελώνη, αμαρτωλό, να ικετεύετε τον Κύριο για να σας δώσει την χάρη και να σπλαχνίζεστε ο ένας τον άλλον.
Ηγούμενος Νικών
ΔΙΑΘΗΚΗ
Παρακαλώ πάρα πολύ όλους τους συγγενείς και φίλους μου να μένουν σταθεροί στην ορθόδοξη χριστιανική πίστη και να καταβάλλουν μέχρι το θάνατο όλες τις προσπάθειες για την σωτηρία της ψυχής τους δια μέσου της τηρήσεως των εντολών του Ευαγγελίου, της συχνής εξομολογήσεως των αμαρτιών τους και της θειας κοινωνίας.
Στη διάρκεια της ζωής μου και στις πιο δύσκολες περιπτώσεις και στους μεγάλους πειρασμούς εύρισκα παρηγοριά στην πίστη, στον Κύριων Ιησού Χριστό και στην προσευχή.
Παρακαλώ να ευσπλαχνίζεστε και να αγαπάτε ο ένας τον άλλον, να βοηθάτε ο ένας τον άλλον σε περίπτωση υλικής και πνευματικής ανάγκης. "Όπου υπάρχουν ειρήνη και αγάπη εκεί είναι ο Θεός, εκεί είναι χαρά και σωτηρία" ή έχθρα και ή ζήλια προέρχονται από τον Διάβολο. Σωθείτε.
Ηγούμενος Νίκων 13 Αυγούστου 1963

Λίγα βιογραφικά στοιχεία του πατρός Νίκωνος (1894-1963)
«Επεδίωκα πάντα ειλικρινά τον Θεό»
Ό ηγούμενος Νίκων (κοσμικό όνομα Νικολάι Νικολάεβιτσ Βορομιώφ) γεννήθηκε το 1894 στο χωριό Μίκσινο της περιφέρειας Μπέλετσκ και ήταν το δεύτερο παιδί από τα επτά αγόρια της οικογενείας. Από μικρός ο Νικόλαος διακρινόταν ιδιαίτερα για την τι­μιότητα, την υπακοή προς τους μεγαλύτερους και την καταπληκτική ειλικρίνεια και ευσπλαχνία για όλους. Αυτά τα χαρακτηριστικά γνωρίσματα ο πατήρ Νίκων τα κράτησε σε όλη του την ζωή.
Ενδιαφέρον επεισόδιο από την παιδική του ηλικία, πού αξίζει να αναφέρουμε είναι το έξης: Στο χωριό πού ζούσε ο Νικόλαος ερχόταν συχνά και έμενε για πολύ καιρό ένας εν Χριστώ σάλος πού τον έλεγαν Βάνκας ο Μικρός. Αυτόν τον φιλοξενούσαν με μεγάλη προθυμία οι γονείς του Νικολάου. Μια φορά, όταν τα παιδιά έπαιζαν στο σπίτι, ο σάλος ξαφνικά πλησίασε στον Νικόλαο και δείχνοντας προς αυτόν επανέλαβε μερικές φορές: «Αυτός είναι μοναχός, μοναχός». Εκείνη την στιγμή κανείς δεν έδωσε καμιά σημασία στα λόγια αυτά αργότερα, όμως, όταν, απ' όλα τα αδέλφια, μόνον ο Νικόλαος έγινε μοναχός, θυμήθηκαν αυτήν την προφητεία.
Αυτός ο σάλος κατά Χριστόν ήταν σοβαρός και διορατικός άνθρωπος. Ό ίδιος δύο δεκαετίες πριν προείπε στην μητέρα του πατρός Νίκωνος τον θάνατο της στην πόλη Ταγκανρόγ πού τότε δεν υπήρχε. Το 1930-40 αυτή μετοίκησε στο Ταγκανρόγ στο σπίτι του γιου της και εκεί πέθανε.
Ό πατέρας του Νικολάου τον έβαλε σε μία σχολή στην πόλη Βίσνι Βολοτσόκ. Ό Νικόλαος ήταν άριστος μαθητής. Από τα πρώτα χρόνια πού άρχισε να σπουδάζει φανέρωσε θαυμάσιες και πολύπλευρες ικανότητες. Ό Νικόλαος είχε μεγάλο μαθηματικό τάλαντο και ήταν πάρα πολύ καλός συγγραφεύς. Ό ίδιος πολλές φορές έλεγε ότι γι' αυτόν ήταν πάρα πολύ εύκολο να γράψει κάτι. Όταν ο Νικόλαος περνούσε από μία τάξη στην άλλη πάντα έπαιρνε το βραβείο της πρώτης κατηγορίας (το ενδεικτικών επαίνου και βιβλίο). Αυτός τραγουδούσε πολύ καλά, έπαιζε άλτο, ήταν μέλος ενός καλλιτεχνικού συγκροτήματος, επίσης ζωγράφιζε και σχεδίαζε πάρα πολύ καλά.
Πώς ζούσε ο Νικόλαος όταν πήγαινε στο σχολείο; Οι γονείς του τον βοήθησαν μόνο στην αρχή, δηλαδή όταν πήγε στο δημοτικό σχολείο. Όταν ο Νικόλαος αποφάσισε να συνέχιση τις σπουδές του ήξερε ότι δεν μπορούσε να περιμένει βοήθεια από το σπίτι του. Οι γονείς του δεν ήταν πλούσιοι άνθρωποι και εκτός από τον Νικόλαο είχαν και άλλα παιδιά τα όποια επίσης είχαν ανάγκη να πηγαίνουν στο σχολείο. Ό Νικόλαος δεν διέκοψε τις σπουδές του αλλά συνέχισε να σπουδάζει σε τέτοιες συνθήκες πού για τον σημερινό άνθρωπο μπορούν να θεωρηθούν απίστευτες. Αμέσως μετά τα υποχρεωτικά μαθήματα ο Νικόλαος, ακόμα παιδάκι, έπρεπε να πηγαίνει ο ίδιος να κάνη μαθήματα ή να βοηθά τους καθυστερημένους συμμαθητές του πού ήταν πιο πλούσιοι απ' αυτόν. Γι' αυτή την εργασία του έδιναν λίγα λεπτά. Μετά από μερικές ώρες, πού περνούσε εκεί, ερχόταν στο σπίτι του (το όποιο νοίκιαζε) και άρχιζε να διαβάζει τα δικά του μαθήματα.
Ή φτώχεια, ή πείνα και το κρύο ήταν οι τακτικοί συνοδοιπόροι του στην περίοδο πού πήγαινε στο σχολείο. Το χειμώνα ο Νικόλαος φορούσε ελαφρό παλτό πού ήταν μόνιμο, και τα παπούτσια χωρίς σόλες.
Ή οικογένεια από την όποια καταγόταν ο πατήρ Νικών ήταν ορθόδοξη. Τα παιδιά διαπαιδαγωγούνταν στην ορθόδοξη πίστη. Άλλα ή πίστη αυτή, την όποια είχαν οι περισσότεροι απλοί άνθρωποι, ήταν μια πίστη εξωτερική, πατροπαράδοτη πού δεν είχε το στερεό πνευματικό θεμέλιο και την ολοκάθαρη κατανόηση της ουσίας του χριστιανισμού. Τέτοια πίστη, στην καλλίτερη περίπτωση, διαπαιδαγωγούσε τους τίμιους ανθρώπους, αλλά επειδή ήταν πατροπαράδοτη και κληρονομήθηκε χωρίς κόπο και ψάξιμο και δεν επιβεβαιωνόταν από την προσωπική πείρα, θα μπορούσε να χαθεί πολύ εύκολα.
Έτσι έγινε και με τον Νικόλαο. Όταν αυτός μπήκε στο σχολείο είχε δίψα για μάθηση και άρχισε με μεγάλο ζήλο την μελέτη, πιστεύοντας πώς εκεί κρύβεται ή αλήθεια. Και ή τυφλή πίστη του στην επιστήμη έδιωξε πολύ εύκολα την πίστη του στον Θεό πού τότε, σ' εκείνη την περίοδο ήταν επίσης τυφλή. Όμως ο Νικόλαος πολύ γρήγορα είχε καταλάβει ότι οι εμπειρικές επιστήμες δεν ασχολούνται με τέτοια προβλήματα, όπως ή γνώση της αλήθειας, της αιωνίου ζωής, της υπάρξεως του Θεού. Σ' αυτές τις επιστήμες όχι μόνο δεν υπάρχει ή ερώτηση τι νόημα έχει ή ζωή του ανθρώπου, αλλά αυτή ή ερώτηση δεν προκύπτει από την φύση σ' αυτές τις επιστήμες.
Ό Νικόλαος το είχε καταλάβει όταν ήταν στις τελευταίες τάξεις του σχολείου και άρχισε με ζήλο να μελετά την ιστορία της φιλοσοφίας, και την έμαθε τόσο καλά, ώστε και οι καθηγητές του έρχονταν σ' αυτόν για να συζητούν τα φιλοσοφικά προβλήματα.
Ή δίψα του για μάθηση ήταν πολύ μεγάλη. Ό Νικόλαος συχνά δεν είχε ούτε μία φέτα ψωμί επειδή τα τελευταία χρήματα πού είχε τα έδινε για κάποιο βιβλίο. Τις νύχτες ο Νικόλαος μελετούσε την ιστορία της φιλοσοφίας και την κλασική λογοτεχνία. Είχε μόνο ένα συγκεκριμένο σκοπό -να βρει την αλήθεια και να μάθη τι νόημα έχει ή ζωή του ανθρώπου.
Όσο μεγάλωνε ο Νικόλαος τόσο καλύτερα καταλάβαινε την ματαιότητα αυτής της ζωής. Ό θάνατος είναι το τέλος όλων των ανθρώπων ανεξάρτητα από το αν καλά ή κακά ζει κάποιος. Δεν έχει νόημα να ζω για τον εαυτό μου, γιατί έτσι και αλλιώς θα πεθάνω. Να ζω για τους άλλους; Άλλα και οι άλλοι άνθρωποι είναι επίσης θνητοί και ή ζωή τους επίσης δεν έχει νόημα. Τότε γιατί ζει ο άνθρωπος αν τίποτε δεν μπορεί να τον σώσει από τον θάνατο;
Το 1914 σε ηλικία είκοσι χρονών ο Νικόλαος με άριστο βαθμό τελειώνει το σχολείο αλλά βγαίνει απ' αυτό άχαρος.
«Ή μελέτη της φιλοσοφίας, έλεγε στο τέλος της ζωής του ο πατήρ Νίκων, μου έδειξε ότι ο κάθε φιλόσοφος νόμιζε ότι βρήκε την αλήθεια. Άλλα πόσοι φιλόσοφοι υπήρχαν; Ή αλήθεια όμως είναι μία. Ή ψυχή μου έψαχνε να βρει κάτι άλλο. Ή φιλοσοφία είναι το υποκατάστατο. Είναι το ίδιο πράγμα αν δίνεις στον άνθρωπο το λάστιχο να τρώει αντί να τρώει το ψωμί; Αν τρέφεστε με το λάστιχο μπορείτε να χορτάσετε;
Εγώ κατάλαβα ότι ή επιστήμη δεν προσφέρει τίποτα περί τον Θεό και την μέλλουσα ζωή. Επίσης και ή φιλοσοφία δεν προσφέρει τίποτα. Και απ' αυτό βγήκε το συμπέρασμα ότι πρέπει να στραφώ προς την θρησκεία».
Απογοητευμένος στην επιστήμη και στην φιλοσοφία ο Νικόλαος μπαίνει στο Ψυχο-Νευρολογικό ινστιτούτο στην Πετρούπολη. Εκεί έλπιζε να βρει την απάντηση στην ερώτηση ποια είναι ή ουσία του ανθρώπου. Άλλα και εκεί του συνέβη απογοήτευση πού ήταν πιο μεγάλη από την απογοήτευση πού είχε όταν τελείωσε το σχολείο.
Ό Νικόλαος τελείωσε το πρώτο έτος και βγήκε από το ινστιτούτο. Άρχισε ή οριστική πνευματική κρίση. Ό αγώνας ήταν πολύ δύσκολος, ώσπου ο Νικόλαος άρχισε να σκέφτεται την αυτοκτονία.
Κάποτε το καλοκαίρι του 1915, όταν ο Νικόλαος βρισκόταν στο Βίσνι Βολοτσόκ και έμενε στην απόλυτη απαρηγόρητη κατάσταση, του πέρασε, σαν αστραπή, ή ανάμνηση από τα παιδικά του χρόνια, όταν είχε την πίστη. Μήπως πραγματικά υπάρχει ο Θεός; Αν ναι, τότε Αυτός πρέπει να αποκαλυφθεί. Και ο Νικόλαος, άπιστος τότε, εκ βάθους καρδίας, ανέκραξε: «Κύριε, αν Εσύ υπάρχεις, να αποκαλυφθείς σε μένα! Εγώ ψάχνω να Σε βρω όχι για τον γήινο και ιδιοτελή σκοπό. Θέλω μόνο να ξέρω υπάρχεις Εσύ ή δεν υπάρχεις;» Και ο Κύριος αποκαλύφθηκε.
«Δεν μπορώ να περιγράψω, έλεγε ο πατήρ Νίκων, την επίδραση της χάριτος πού μας πείθει ότι υπάρχει ο Θεός. Αύτη ή επίδραση είναι τόσο δυνατή και προφανής ώστε δεν αφήνει τον άνθρωπο να αμφιβάλλει. Ό Κύριος αποκαλύπτεται όπως για παράδειγμα μετά το σκοτεινό σύννεφο ξαφνικά βγαίνει ο ήλιος. Τότε δεν μπορείς να αμφιβάλλεις ότι αυτός δεν είναι ο ήλιος και όχι ένα φανάρι πού το άναψε κάποιος. Ό Κύριος μου αποκαλύφθηκε, έτσι πού εγώ έπεσα στη γη και είπα: "Κύριε δόξα Σοι, Σε ευχαριστώ! Βοήθησε με σε όλη την ζωή μου να υπηρετώ Εσένα! Ας έρθουν σε μένα όλες οι θλίψεις και όλα τα βάσανα πού υπάρχουν στον κόσμο, δώσε μου να υπομένω όλα αυτά και να μην απομακρύνομαι από Σένα, να μην Σε χάσω».
Δεν ξέρουμε πόση ώρα έμεινε ο Νικόλαος σ' αυτή την κατάσταση. Άλλα όταν σηκώθηκε άκουσε πολύ δυνατά χτυπήματα της καμπάνας της εκκλησίας τα όποια χάνονταν στο άπειρο.
Ό Νικόλαος νόμισε ότι οι καμπάνες χτυπούσαν σ' ένα μοναστήρι πού ήταν κοντά. Άλλα ή κωδωνοκρουσία ήταν ασταμάτητη και ήταν πολύ αργά, γύρω στις μία την νύχτα, δηλαδή δεν ήταν ώρα κατάλληλη για κωδωνοκρουσία...
«... Μετά ο Κύριος μου έβαλε την ιδέα να μπω στην Θεολογική Ακαδημία της Μόσχας (το 1917). Αυτό ήταν πολύ σημαντικό για μένα».
Άλλα σ' ένα χρόνο τα μαθήματα στην Ακαδημία σταμάτησαν λόγω της Οκτωβριανής επαναστάσεως.
23 Μαρτίου του 1931 ο Νικόλαος έγινε μοναχός με το όνομα Νίκων. Την κούρα την έκανε ο Επίσκοπος του Μίνσκ ο Θεοφάνης Σεμενιάκο... Στις 25 Μαρτίου την ήμερα του Ευαγγελισμού το ίδιο έτος ο πατήρ Νίκων έγινε ιεροδιάκονος και 26 Δεκεμβρίου του 1932 χειροτονήθηκε ιερομόναχος. Στις 23 Μαρτίου του 1933 ο πατήρ Νίκων συνελήφθηκε. Τον έστειλαν εξορία στο στρατόπεδο συγκεντρώσεως στην Σιβηρία για πέντε χρόνια. Αποφυλακίστηκε το 1937...
Όταν άρχισαν να ανοίγουν οι εκκλησίες ο πατήρ Νίκων άρχισε να λειτουργεί. Το 1944 ο επίσκοπος της πόλης Καλούγα τον έβαλε στην εκκλησία του Ευαγγελισμού της Θεοτόκου της πόλεως Κοζέλσκ οπού ο πατήρ Νίκων λειτουργούσε μέχρι το 1948.
Το 1948 τον έστειλαν σε μία ενοριακή εκκλησία της πόλεως Γζάτσκ. Στην αρχή δεν του άρεσε εκεί. Τον υποδέχτηκαν κρύα. Και ή οικονομική κατάσταση ήταν δύσκολη.
Ό πατήρ Νίκων δεν είχε ποτέ του χρήματα γιατί τα μοίραζε πάντα στους φτωχούς...
Πριν πεθάνει ο πατήρ Νίκων, σ' αυτούς πού ήταν δίπλα στο κρεβάτι του και θρηνούσαν έλεγε: «Δεν πρέπει να λυπόσαστε. Πρέπει να ευχαριστείτε τον Θεό ότι εγώ τελείωσα την γήινη μου πορεία. Ποτέ μου δεν ήθελα να ζω, δεν είδα σ' αυτήν την ζωή τίποτα ενδιαφέρον και πάντα παραξενευόμουν πώς οι άλλοι άνθρωποι βρίσκουν κάτι ενδιαφέρον σ' αυτήν την ζωή και γαντζώνονται απ' την ζωή με όλη τους την δύναμη!.
Εγώ δεν έκανα τίποτε καλό στη ζωή μου αλλά πάντα ειλικρινά αναζητούσα τον Θεό. Γι' αυτό ελπίζω με όλη την ψυχή μου στην ευσπλαχνία του Θεού. Ό Κύριος δεν μπορεί να αποκρούσει τον άνθρωπο ο όποιος με όλη την δύναμη του επεδίωκε Αυτόν. Λυπάμαι, τι σας περιμένει στο μέλλον. Οι ζωντανοί θα ζηλεύουν τους νεκρούς...».
Ό πατήρ Νικών ειρηνικά εκοιμήθη εν Κυρίω στις 7 Σεπτεμβρίου του 1963 στις 12 και 25 το μεσημέρι. Ή κηδεία του έγινε στις 9 Σεπτεμβρίου.
Το βιβλίο αυτό τυπώθηκε στην ρωσική το 1997.


http://apantaortodoxias.blogspot.com/2009/02/1894-1963.html
Georgios Rossos
 

Άγιος Τύχων Πατριάρχης Μόσχας

Unread postby Georgios Rossos » Sat Nov 19, 2011 5:03 pm

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Άγιος Τύχων Πατριάρχης Μόσχας

Βιογραφία
Ο Άγιος Τύχων (Βασίλειος Ιβάνοβιτς Μπελλάβιν) γεννήθηκε στις 19 Ιανουαρίου 1865 μ.Χ. στην πόλη Τοροπιέτς της επαρχίας Πσκωβ. Σε ηλικία δεκατριών ετών παρακολουθεί το εκκλησιαστικό σεμινάριο του Πσκωφ και μετά από έξι χρόνια εγγράφεται στην θεολογική ακαδημία της Αγίας Πετρουπόλεως. Σε ηλικία είκοσι έξι ετών ακολούθησε τον μοναχικό βίο και γίνεται μοναχός. Η κουρά του έγινε στο παρεκκλήσι της εκκλησιαστικής σχολής του Πσκωβ, όπου ήταν καθηγητής. Ως μοναχός απέκτησε το όνομα Τύχων, προς τιμήν του Αγίου της Ρωσίας, που έζησε κατά τον 18ο αιώνα μ.Χ., του Αγίου Τύχωνος του Ζαντόσκ (τιμάται 13 Αυγούστου).

Το 1898 μ.Χ. εκλέγεται Επίσκοπος της Μητροπόλεως του Χομσκ και ένα χρόνο αργότερα Επίσκοπος των Αλεουτιανών Νήσων της Αλάσκας. Το 1905 μ.Χ. προάγεται σε Αρχιεπίσκοπο της πόλεως Ιεροσλάβ.

Το 1914 μ.Χ. ξεσπά ο Α' παγκόσμιος πόλεμος. Ο Άγιος Τύχων στάθηκε στο πλευρό της πατρίδος του και του ποιμνίου του. Η προσφορά του ήταν μεγάλη. Γι' αυτό, δύο χρόνια αργότερα, μετά τον θάνατο του Μητροπολίτη Μόσχας Μακαρίου, εκλέγεται Μητροπολίτης Μόσχας. Ο λαός υποδέχεται θριαμβευτικά τον νέο ποιμενάρχη του.

Το έτος 1917 μ.Χ. γίνεται ανατροπή του καθεστώτος από τους Μπολσεβίκους και τα πράγματα αλλάζουν. Ο Άγιος Τύχων καλεί Σύνοδο, για να μελετήσει την κατάσταση και να εξετάσει το θέμα σχέσεων Εκκλησίας και κράτους. Στις 28 Οκτωβρίου 1917 μ.Χ., μπροστά στην θαυματουργή εικόνα της Παναγίας του Βλαντιμίρ έγινε η κλήρωση για την ανάδειξη του νέου Πατριάρχη Μόσχας. Ο κλήρος, τον οποίο τράβηξε ο ερημίτης Γέροντας Αλέξιος, έπεσε στον Άγιο Τύχωνα.

Το καθεστώς επέφερε χωρισμό Εκκλησίας και κράτους, κατήργησε όλα τα εκκλησιαστικά προνόμια, επέβαλε τον πολιτικό γάμο, οργάνωσε την αντιχριστιανική προπαγάνδα, δήμευσε την εκκλησιαστική περιουσία, εξόρισε και δολοφόνησε χιλιάδες Χριστιανών, έκλεισε τους ναούς, εξαφάνισε ιερά λείψανα Αγίων. Στο σφοδρό διωγμό φονεύθηκαν πάνω από 3.500 Επίσκοποι και ιερείς, περί τις 2.000 μοναχοί και περί τις 3.000 μοναχές. Ο Άγιος Τύχων επιτιμά το καθεστώς και γι' αυτό καταδικάζεται σε θάνατο. Το Μάιο του 1922 μ.Χ. συλλαμβάνεται και φυλακίζεται. Μετά από ένα χρόνο ελευθερώνεται, αλλά και πάλι περιορίζεται στη μονή Ντονσκόι όπου ζούσε ως ελεύθερος πολιορκημένος. Η ασθένειά του τον καταβάλλει. Το 1925 μ.Χ. ο Άγιος Πατριάρχης ένιωσε ότι το τέλος πλησιάζει. Έκανε ευλαβικά τον σταυρό του, είπε «Δόξα σοι, Κύριε» και παρέδωσε την αγία ψυχή του στον Θεό.

Η μνήμη του Αγίου Τύχωνα επαναλαμβάνεται στις 9 Οκτωβρίου.
Georgios Rossos
 

Hieromartyr Hilarion (Troitsky), Archbishop of Verey

Unread postby Georgios Rossos » Sat Nov 19, 2011 9:12 pm

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The Life of Holy Hieromartyr Hilarion (Troitsky), Archbishop of Verey




One of the most eminent figures of the Russian Orthodox Church in the 1920s was Archbishop Hilarion of Verey, an outstanding theologian and extremely talented individual. Throughout his life he burned with great love for the Church of Christ, right up to his martyric death for her sake.

His literary works are distinguished by their strictly ecclesiastical content and his tireless struggle against scholasticism, specifically Latinism, which had been influencing the Russian Church from the time of Metropolitan Peter Moghila [of Kiev].

His ideal was ecclesiastical purity for theological schools and theological studies.

His continual reminder was: There is no salvation outside the Church, and there are no Sacraments outside the Church.

Archbishop Hilarion (Vladimir Alexeyevich Troitsky in the world) was born on September 13, 1886, to a priest’s family in the village of Lipitsa, in the Kashira district of Tula Province.

A longing to learn was awakened in him at an early age. When he was only five years old, he took his three-year-old brother by the hand and left his native village for Moscow to go to school. When his little brother began to cry from fatigue, Vladimir said to him, “Well, then, remain uneducated.” Their parents realized in time that their children had disappeared, and quickly brought them home. Vladimir was soon sent to theology school, and then to seminary. After completing the full seminary course, he entered the Moscow Theological Academy, and graduated with honors in 1910 with a Candidate degree in Theology. He remained at the Academy with a professorial scholarship.

It is worth noting that Vladimir was an excellent student from the beginning of theology school to the completion of the Theological Academy. He always earned the highest marks in all subjects.

In 1913 Vladimir received his master’s degree in theology for his fundamental work, “An Overview of the History of the Dogma of the Church.”

His heart burned with the desire to serve God as a monastic. On March 28, 1913, in the Skete of the Paraclete of the Holy Trinity–St. Sergius Lavra, he received the monastic tonsure with the name Hilarion (in honor of St. Hilarion the New, Abbot and Confessor of Pelecete, commemorated March 28). About two months later, on June 2, he was ordained a hieromonk, and on July 5 of the same year, raised to the rank of Archimandrite.

On May 30, 1913, Fr. Hilarion was appointed Inspector of the Moscow Theological Academy. In December of 1913 Archimandrite Hilarion was confirmed as Professor of Holy Scripture, in the New Testament.

Archimandrite Hilarion gained great authority both as an educator of those studying in the theological school and as a professor of theology, and his sermons earned him great renown.

His dogmatic theological works came out one after another, enriching ecclesiastical scholarship. His sermons sounded from church ambos like the ringing of bells, calling God’s people to faith and moral renewal.

When the question arose as to whether the Russian Church should restore the Patriarchate, as a member of the All-Russian Local Council of 1917–1918[1] he made an inspired stand in favor of the Patriarchate. He said:

The Russian Church has never been without a chief hierarch. Our Patriarchate was destroyed by Peter I. With whom did it interfere? With the conciliarity of the Church? But wasn’t it during the time of the Patriarchs that there were especially many councils? No, the Patriarchate interfered neither with conciliarity nor with the Church. Then with whom? Here before me are two great friends, two adornments of the seventeenth century—Patriarch Nikon and Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. In order to sow disagreement between these two friends, evil boyars whispered to the Tsar, “Because of the Patriarch, you, the Sovereign, have become invisible.” When Nikon left the Moscow throne, he wrote, “Let the sovereign have more space without me.” Peter gave flesh to this thought of Nikon’s when he destroyed the Patriarchate. “Let me, the Sovereign, have more space without the Patriarch …”

But Church consciousness, in the thirty-fourth Apostolic Canon, as well as in the Local Council held in Moscow in 1917, says one irrevocable thing: ‘The bishops of any nation, including the Russian nation, must know who is the first among them, and acknowledge him as their head.’

And I would like to address all those who for some reason still consider it necessary to protest against the Patriarchate. Fathers and brothers! Do not disrupt the joy of our oneness of mind! Why do you take this thankless task upon yourselves? Why do you make hopeless speeches? You are fighting againstthe Church’s consciousness. Have some fear, lest haply you begin to fight against God (cf. Acts 5:39)! We have already sinned— sinned in that we didn’t restore the Patriarchate two months ago, when we all came to Moscow and met with each other for the first time in the great Dormition Cathedral. Was it not it painful to the point of tears to see the empty Patriarchal seat?... And when we venerated the holy relics of the wonderworkers of Moscow and chief hierarchs of Russia, did we not hear their reproach, that for two hundred years their chief hierarchical throne has remained desolate?”

Immediately after the Bolsheviks came to power, they began to persecute the Church, and by March of 1919 Archimandrite Hilarion had already been arrested. His first imprisonment lasted three months.

On May 11/24, 1920, Archimandrite Hilarion was elected, and on the next day, consecrated as Bishop of Verey, a vicariate of the Moscow diocese.

His contemporaries painted a colorful picture of him: young, full of cheerfulness, well-educated, an excellent preacher, orator, singer, and a brilliant polemicist—always natural, sincere, and open. He was physically very strong, tall, and broad-shouldered, with thick reddish hair and a clear, bright face. He was the people’s favorite.… Bishop Hilarion enjoyed great authority among the clergy and his fellow bishops, who called him “Hilarion the Great” for his mind and steadfastness in the Faith.

His episcopal service was a path of the cross. Two years had not passed since the day of his consecration before he was already in exile in Archangelsk. Bishop Hilarion was away from Church life for a whole year. He continued his activity upon his return from exile. His Holiness Patriarch Tikhon took a close interest in him, and made him, along with Archbishop Seraphim (Alexandrov),[2] his closest like-minded advisor.

The Patriarch raised Bishop Hilarion to the rank of Archbishopimmediately upon his return from exile. His ecclesiastical activities began to broaden. He carried on serious talks with Tuchkov[3] on the need to order life in the Russian Orthodox Church on the basis of canonical law, amidst the conditions present under the Soviet government; and he labored to restore ecclesiastical organization, composing a number of Patriarchal epistles.

He became a threat to the renovationists,[4] and was inseparable from Patriarch Tikhon in their eyes. On the evening of June 22/July 5, 1923, Vladyka Hilarion served an All-night Vigil for the feast of the Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God at the Sretensky Monastery, which had been taken over by the renovationists. Vladyka threw out the renovationists and re-consecrated the cathedral with the full rite of consecration, and thus returned the monastery to the Church. The next day, Patriarch Tikhon served in the monastery. The Divine Services lasted all day, not ending until 6:00 pm. Patriarch Tikhon appointed Archbishop Hilarion as Superior of Sretensky Monastery. The renovationist leader, Metropolitan Antonin (Granovsky), wrote against the Patriarch and Archbishop Hilarion with inexpressible hatred, accusing them unceremoniously as counter-revolutionaries. “Tikhonand Hilarion,” he wrote, “have produced ‘grace-filled,’ suffocating gases against the revolution, and the revolution has armed itself not only against the Tikhonites, but against the whole Church, as against a band of conspirators. Hilarion goes around sprinkling churches after the renovationists. He walks brazenly into these churches…. Tikhon and Hilarion are guilty before the revolution, vexers of the Church of God, and can offer no good deeds to excuse themselves.”[5]

Archbishop Hilarion clearly understood the renovationists’ lawlessness, and he conducted heated debates in Moscow with Alexander Vvedensky.[6] As Archbishop Hilarion himself expressed it, he had Vvedensky “up against the wall” at these debates, and exposed all his cunning and lies.

The renovationist bosses sensed that Archbishop Hilarion interfered with their doings, and they therefore exerted all efforts to deprive him of his freedom. In December 1923 Archbishop Hilarion was sentenced to three years in prison. He was taken to the prison camp in Kem,[7] and then to Solovki.[8]

When the archbishop saw the horrific conditions in the barracks and the camp food, he said, “We won’t get out of here alive.” Archbishop Hilarion had embarked upon the path of the cross, which culminated in his blessed repose.

Archbishop Hilarion’s path of the cross is of great interest to us, for in it is revealed the full magnificence of spirit of this martyr for Christ; therefore we will allow ourselves to take a more detailed look at this period in his life.

Living in Solovki, Archbishop Hilarion preserved all those good qualities of soul that he had gained through his ascetic labors, both before and during his monastic life and as a priest and hierarch. Those who lived with him during those years were witnesses to his total monastic non-acquisitiveness, deep simplicity, true humility, and childlike meekness. He simply gave away everything he had when asked.

He took no interest in his own things. That is why he needed someone to watch after his suitcase, out of mercy for him. He did have such an assistant at Solovki. Archbishop Hilarion could be insulted but he would never answer back; he might not even notice the attempt to insult him. He was always cheerful, and even if he was worried or distressed, he always tried to cover it up quickly with his cheerfulness. He looked at everything with spiritual eyes, and everything served for his spiritual profit.

“At the Philemonov fishery,” one eyewitness related, “four and a half miles from the Solovki kremlin and main camp, on the shores of the small White Sea bay, Archbishop Hilarion and I, along with two other bishops and a few priests (all prisoners), were net-makers and fishermen. Archbishop Hilarion loved to talk about this work of ours using a rearrangement of the words of the sticheron for Pentecost: ‘All things aregiven by the Holy Spirit: before, fishermen became theologians, and now it’s the opposite—theologians have become fishermen.’” Thus did he humble himself before his new lot.

His good spirits extended also to the Soviet authorities themselves, and he was able to view even them with guileless eyes.

Once, a young hieromonk was brought to Solovki from Kazan. He had been sentenced to three years of exile for removing the orarion[9] from a renovationist deacon, and not allowing the deacon to celebrate with him. The Archbishop approved of the hieromonk’s action, and joked about the various prison terms given to one or another person, having nothing to do with the seriousness of their “crime.” “For the Master is gracious and receives the last, even as the first,” he said in the words of St. John Chrysostom’s Paschal homily. “He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour, just as to him who has labored from the first. He has mercy upon the last and cares for the first; to the one he gives, and to the other he is gracious. He both honors the work and praises the intention.” These words may have sounded ironic, but they imparted a feeling of peace, and made the hieromonk accept the trial as from God’s hands.

Vladyka Hilarion was greatly cheered by the thought that Solovki was a school of the virtues—non-acquisitiveness, meekness, humility, temperance, patience, and love of labor. One day a group of clergy was robbed upon arrival, and the fathers were very upset. One of the prisoners said to them in jest that this is how they were being taught non-acquisitiveness. Vladyka was elated by that remark. One exile lost his boots twice in a row, and walked around the camp in torn galoshes. Archbishop Hilarion was brought to unfeigned merriness looking at him, and that is how he encouraged good humor in the other prisoners. His love for every person, his attention to each one, and his sociability were simply amazing. He was the most popular individual in the camp, among all of its societal classes. We are saying not only that the general, the officer, the student, and the professor knew him and talked withhim (in spite of the fact that there were many bishops there, even older, and no less educated than he), but also the rabble, the criminal society of thieves and bandits, knew him as a good, respected person, whom it was impossible not to love. Whether during work-breaks or during his free time, he could be seen walking around arm in arm with one or another “example” of this crowd. This was not just condescension toward a “younger brother” or a fallen man—no. Vladyka spoke with each one as an equal, taking an interest in, for example, the “profession,” or favorite activity of each of them. The criminal element is very proud and sensitively conceited. They cannot be slighted with impunity. Therefore, Vladyka’s manner overcame everything. Like a friend to them, he ennobled them by his presence and attention. It was exceptionally interesting to observe him in that crowd, talking things over with them.

He was accessible to all; he was just like everyone, and it was easy to be around him, to meet with him and talk. The most ordinary, simple, and “non-saintly” exterior—that was Vladyka. However, behind this ordinary exterior of joy and seeming worldliness, one could gradually begin to see childlike purity, vast spiritual experience, kindness and mercy, his sweet indifference to material goods, his true faith, authentic piety, and lofty moral perfection—not to mention intellectual strength combined with strength and clarity of conviction. This appearance of ordinary sinfulness, foolishness-for-Christ, and a mask of worldliness hid his inner activity from people, and preserved him from hypocrisy and conceit. He was the sworn enemy of hypocrisy and all manner of “pious appearance,” and was absolutely conscious and direct. In the “Troitsky crew” (that is what they called Archbishop Hilarion’s work group) the clergy received a good education on Solovki. Everyone understood that there was no point in just calling yourself a sinner, carrying on long, pious conversations, or showing how austerely you lived. It was especially useless to think more highly of yourself than was actually the case.

Vladyka would ask every arriving priest in detail about the events leading up to his imprisonment. One day, a certain abbot was brought to Solovki. The Archbishop asked him, “What did they arrest you for?”

“Oh, I served molebens at home after they closed the monastery,” the abbot replied. “Well, people would gather, and there were even some healings …”

“Ah, well—even healings … How much Solovki did they give you?”

“Three years.”

“Well,” said Vladyka, “that’s not much; for healings they should have given you more. The Soviet government made an oversight …”

It goes without saying that it was more than immodest to speak about healings coming through one’s own prayers.

In mid summer of 1925, Archbishop Hilarion was sent to the prison in Yaroslavl. There it was very different from Solovki. He had special privileges there. He was allowed to receive spiritual books. Taking advantage of these privileges, Archbishop Hilarion read a great deal of patristic literature and kept notes, which resulted in many thick notebooks of patristic instruction. He was able to send these notebooks to his friends for safekeeping after passing the prison censor. The hierarch would secretly visit the prison warden, who was a kind man, and as a result he made an underground collection of religious manuscripts and Soviet literature, as well as copies of various Church-administrative documents and correspondence with bishops.

During that time, Archbishop Hilarion also courageously bore a slew of troubles. When he was in Yaroslavl prison, the Gregorian schism[10] was occurring within the Russian Church’s bosom. An agent from the GPU came to him since he was a popular bishop, and tried to persuade him to join the new schism. “Moscow loves you—Moscow is waiting for you,” the agent said to him. But Archbishop Hilarion remained steadfast. He couldsee what the GPU was trying to do, and he courageously rejected the sweet freedom offered him in exchange for his betrayal. The agent was amazed at his courage and said, “It’s nice to speak with such an intelligent man.” Then he added, “How long is your term on Solovki? Three years?! For Hilarion—only three years?! So little?” It is not surprising that three more years were added to Archbishop Hilarion’s sentence after this. The statement “for spreading government secrets” was also added; that is—for talking about his conversation with the agent in the Yaroslavl prison.

In the spring of 1926, Archbishop Hilarion was sent back to Solovki. His way of the cross continued. The Gregorians did not leave him in peace. They did not lose hope that they might be able to win such an eminent hierarch as Archbishop Hilarion over to their side, and thus strengthen their position.

In early June of 1927, when the White Sea had only just become passable, Archbishop Hilarion was transferred to Moscow for discussions with Archbishop Gregory. In the presence of various secular personages, the latter insistently requested Archbishop Hilarion to “gather courage” and head the Gregorian “Supreme Church Council,” which was rapidly losing its significance. Archbishop Hilarion categorically refused, explaining that the actions of this council were unjust and a waste oftime, contrived by people who knew neither Church life nor canons, and therefore the Council was doomed to failure. Moreover, Archbishop Hilarion counseled Archbishop Gregory as a brother to abandon his plans, which were unnecessary and even harmful to the Church.

Such meetings were repeated several times. They begged Vladyka Hilarion, promised him total freedom of action and a white klobuk,[11] but he firmly held to his convictions. There are even rumors that he said to someone at one of these meetings, “Although I’m an archpastor, I’m a hot-tempered man, and I urge you to leave. After all, I might lose my self-control.”

“I would sooner rot in prison than change my position,” he said once to Bishop Gervasius.[12] He stuck to this position on the Gregorians to the end of his life.

During the troubled times when, after the renovationist schism, disagreements had penetrated into the midst of the exiled bishops on Solovki, Archbishop Hilarion was a true peacemaker among them. He was able to unify them on the basis of Orthodox principles. Archbishop Hilarion was one of the bishops who worked on the Church declaration of 1926, which determined the position of the Orthodox Church under the new historical conditions. This declaration played an enormous role in the struggle with emerging divisions.[13]

In November 1927, certain of the Solovki bishops began to waiver over the Josephite schism.[14] Archbishop Hilarion was able to gather up to fifteen bishops in the cell of Archimandrite Theophan, where all unanimously resolved to preserve faithfulness to the Orthodox Church headed by Metropolitan Sergius.

“No schisms!” Archbishop Hilarion proclaimed. “No matter what they say to us, we will look at it as a provocation!”

On June 28, 1928, Vladyka Hilarion wrote to his close friends that he was unsympathetic in the extreme with those who had broken off, and considered their actions unfounded, foolish, and extremely harmful. He considered such separation to be an “ecclesiastical crime,” quite serious under the current conditions. “I see absolutely nothing in the actions of Metropolitan Sergius and his Synod that would exceed a measure of condescension and patience,” he said.

Archbishop Hilarion worked very hard to convince Bishop Victor (Ostrovidov) of Glazov,[15] who was very closely aligned with the Josephites. He finally did manage to convince Bishop Victor, and not only did the latter recognize that he was wrong—he even wrote a letter to his flock enjoining them to cease their separations.

Although Archbishop Hilarion was unable to know everything about the life in the Church of that time, he nevertheless was not an indifferent observer of the various ecclesiastical disturbances and catastrophes that were crashing down upon the Orthodox people. People came to him for advice and asked him what they should do to attain peace in the Church under the new conditions of political life. This was a very complicated question, and Archbishop Hilarion provided an exceedingly deep and well analyzed answer, based upon Orthodox canons and ecclesiastical practice.

Here is what he wrote about this in a letter dated December 10, 1927:

I have not participated for the last two years in Church life; I have only periodic and, perhaps, inexact information. Therefore, it is difficult for me to judge about the particulars and details of that life; but I think that the general line of Church life and its inadequacies and illnesses are known to me. The main inadequacy, one which I felt even earlier, is the lack of Church Councils since 1917—that is, during the very time when they have been most needed, because the Russian Church has entered into entirely new historical conditions, not without God’s will. These conditions are unusual, and significantly different from its earlier conditions. Ecclesiastical practice, including the formation of the Councils of 1917–1918, is not suited to these new conditions. The situation has become significantly morecomplicated since the death of Patriarch Tikhon. The question of the Locum Tenens, as far as I know, is also very confused, and ecclesiastical governance is in a state of total disarray. I do not know if there is anyone among our hierarchy, or even among conscious members of the Church in general, who are so naïve or near-sighted as to entertain the absurd illusion that the Soviet government will soon be overthrown and [the old order] restored, etc. But I think that all who desire the good of the Church recognize the need for the Russian Church to make a place for itself under the new historical conditions.

Thus, a Council is needed; and first of all we need to ask the governmental authorities to allow us to call a Council. However, someone needs to gather the Council, make the necessary preparations—in a word, lead the Church up to a Council. Therefore, right now, before the Council, an ecclesiastical body is needed. I have a series of requirements for the organization and the activity of this body which, I think, are common to everyone who wants good ecclesiastical order rather than disturbance of peace or some new confusion. I will point out a few of these requirements.

1. A temporary ecclesiastical body should not be essentially self-willed; that is, it should have the agreement of the Locum Tenens from the start.

2. As much as possible, the temporary ecclesiastical body should include those who have been delegated by the Locum Tenens, Metropolitan Peter (Polyansky) or the Holy Patriarch.

3. The temporary ecclesiastical body should unite and not separate the episcopate. It is not a judge, and not a punisher of dissenters—that is what the Council will be.

4. The temporary ecclesiastical body should see its task as modest and practical: the creation of a Council.

The last two points require particular explanation. The repulsive ghost of the 1922 VTsU (Supreme ChurchAdministration)[16] still hovers over the hierarchy and ecclesiastical personages. Church people have become suspicious. The temporary ecclesiastical body should fear like fire the least resemblance in activity to the criminal activity of the VTsU. Otherwise, there will only be new confusion. The VTsU was begun with lies and deceit. Everything should be founded upon the truth. The VTsU, an entirely self-appointed body, proclaimed itself as the supreme master of the destiny of the Russian Church—a master to whom ecclesiastical laws, and even common Divine and human laws, do not necessarily apply. Our ecclesiastical body will only be temporary, with the sole task of calling a Council. The VTsU persecuted all who would not submit to it—that is, all decent hierarchs and other ecclesiastical workers. Threatening punishments left and right, and promising mercy to the submissive, the VTsU evoked the censure of the government—censure that the government itself hardly found desirable. This repugnant side of the criminal activities of the VTsU and its successor, the socalled “Synod,” with its councils of 1923–1925, earned them deserved contempt, caused great woe and suffering for innocent people, brought only evil, and had only the result that a part of the hierarchy and some irresponsible Church people left the Church and formed schismatic groups. Nothing of the kind, not even the slightest hint, should be present in the activities of the temporary ecclesiastical body. I emphasize this thought especially, because I see a very great danger in precisely this. Our ecclesiastical body should convoke a Council. With respect to this Council, the following requirements are necessary.

5. The temporary ecclesiastical organ should convoke, but not select the members of the Council, as was done by the VTsUof woeful memory in 1923. A selected Council will not have any authority and will bring not calm, but only new confusion to the Church. There is scant need to enlarge the list of “robber councils” in history—three are enough: Ephesus in 449, and two in Moscow, between 1923 and 1925. My first wish for the future Council is that it would prove its total non-participation and non-solidarity with all politically suspect movements, to disperse the fog of unconscionable and foul-smelling slander which has shrouded the Russian Church through the criminal efforts of evil doers (of renovation). Only a true Council can have authority, bring calm into Church life, and give peace to the tormented hearts of Church people. I believe that at the Council, the whole importance of this ecclesiastical moment will come to the surface, and it will order Church life in a way that corresponds to the new conditions.

As Archbishop Hilarion thought and confirmed, only if there was Church sobornost [conciliarity] could there be pacification, and could the Russian Orthodox Church conduct its normal activities within the new conditions of the Soviet state.

His way of the cross was coming to its completion. In December 1929 Archbishop Hilarion was sent to live in Alma-Ata in Central Asia for a term of three years. He traveled under guard from one prison to another. He was robbed along the way, and when he arrived in Leningrad he was in a long shirt, swarming with parasites, and was already sick. He wrote from the Leningrad prison where he had been placed, “I am seriously ill with louse-borne typhus, and am lying in a prison hospital. I was most likely infected on the road; on Saturday, December 28, my fate will be decided (the crisis of the illness). I am unlikely to survive.”

In the hospital he was told that he needed to be shaved, to which His Eminence replied, “Do what you want with me.” In his delirium he said, “Now I’m completely free; no one can take me.”

The angel of death already stood by the head of the sufferer. A fewminutes before he died, a doctor came up to him and said that the crisis was over and he might recover. Archbishop Hilarion said, in a barely audible whisper, “How good! Now we’re far from…” With these words, the confessor of Christ died. This was on December 15/28, 1929.

Metropolitan Seraphim (Chichagov), who occupied the Leningrad see at the time, obtained permission to take his body for burial. They brought white hierarchical vestments and a white miter to the hospital. They vested him and took him to the church of the Novodevichy Monastery in Leningrad. Vladyka had changed terribly. In the coffin lay a pitiful, shaven, gray old man. When one of his relatives saw him in the coffin, she fainted—he was so unlike the former Hilarion.

He was buried in the Novodevichy Monastery cemetery, not far from the graves of the relatives of then Archbishop, later Patriarch, Alexei (Simansky).[17]

Besides Metropolitan Seraphim and Archbishop Alexei, Bishop Ambrose (Libin) of Luga, Bishop Sergius (Zenkevich) of Lodeinoe Polye, and three other bishops participated in the burial.

Thus this spiritual and physical giant departed to eternity—a man of wondrous soul, gifted by the Lord with outstanding theological talents, who laid down his life for the Church. His death was an enormous loss for the Russian Orthodox Church.

May your memory be eternal, holy Hierarch Hilarion!

Translated by Nun Cornelia.

Editor’s Note

On April 27/May 10, 1999, Holy Hieromartyr Hilarion, Archbishop of Verey, was glorified as a saint by the Moscow Patriarchate of the Russian Orthodox Church.

On the eve of his canonization, the Holy Hieromartyr’s relics were translated from St. Petersburg to Moscow and placed in the church ofthe Sretensky Monastery. At the solemn service, which drew a multitude of pilgrims to the monastery, His Holiness Patriarch Alexei II read the resolution on his glorification, and lit a perpetual lamp over the shrine containing his holy relics.

St. Hilarion is commemorated twice a year: on December 15/28, the day of his martyric repose, and on April 27/May 10, the day of his glorification.

St. Hilarion left a large body of homilies and apologetical writings, many of which can be found in Russian on the web site of Sretensky Monastery, http://www.pravoslavie.ru, and a few of which have been published in English. Here are the titles of some of them:
Christianity and Socialism[18]
Christianity or the Church?[19]
Holy Scripture and the Church[20]
Holy Scripture, the Church, and Science
The Incarnation and the Church
On Entertainment for Charity
From the Academy to Mount Athos: In the East and the West
The Incarnation and Humility
The Incarnation
Prophetic Schools of the Old Testament
Pascha of Incorruption
Letters about the West
Progress and Transfiguration
Sin against the Church: Thoughts on the Russian Intelligentsia
Why Is It Necessary to Restore the Patriarchate?
The Restoration of the Patriarchate and the Election of the Patriarch ofAll Russia
There Is No Christianity without the Church
Metropolitan John (Snychev) of St. Petersburg and Ladoga (†1995)
Orthodox Word

09 / 05 / 2011




[1] The All-Russian Local Council was the first Church Council in Russia since the abolition of the Patriarchate at the Council of 1681–1682. Its sessions lasted from August 1917 to September 1918.—Ed.

[2] Later Metropolitan of Kazan and Sviyazhsk, he was shot by the Bolsheviks in 1937.—Ed.

[3] Yevgeny Alexandrovich Tuchkov was the plenipotentiary for Church affairs of the GPU, the forerunner of the KGB. He was responsible for disrupting the Russian Church in every possible way, including the use of mass arrests and the execution of clergy, as well as open support for the “Living Church” (see note 4 below).—Ed.

[4] That is, members of the “Living Church,” an organization that attempted to supplant the Russian Orthodox Church while reforming Orthodox teachings, traditions and practices according to modern liberal ideas.

[5] Izvestia, September 23, 1923.—Ed.

[6] Alexander Vvedensky was a liberal priest who, from 1923 until his death in 1946, was one of the leaders of the “Living Church.”—Ed.

[7] Kem, a city in Karelia, had a prison camp that was used from 1926 to 1939 as a departure point for political prisoners who were being sent to Solovki.—Ed.

[8] The Monastery of Solovki, located on the Solovetsky Islands in the White Sea, was turned into a labor camp after the Bolshevik revolution. In 1926 it became a prison camp, and remained so until its closure in 1939. It was reopened as a monastery in 1990.—Ed.

[9] Orarion: a narrow stole worn by Orthodox deacons over the left shoulder.

[10] The Gregorian schism, so-called after its founding bishop, Gregory (Yakovetsky), was a new schism fostered by the Soviet authorities after the obvious failure of the renovationists. It was essentially a council of bishops, submissive to and therefore legalized by the Soviet authorities. These bishops claimed to govern the Church after the death of Patriarch Tikhon, since the Locum Tenens, Metropolitan Peter of Krutitsa, was imprisoned. They differed from the renovationists in that they recognized both the reposed

Patriarch Tikhon and the Locum Tenens (since he was in prison, and therefore could not interfere), and were overtly traditionalist.—Trans.

[11] Klobuk: a type of monastic head covering. A white klobuk, instead of a black one, is given to a hierarch in the rank of metropolitan.—Trans.

[12] Bishop of Rostov and Uglich, he joined the “Living Church” in 1925 and eventually even renounced God.—Ed.

[13] The author is referring to Archbishop Hilarion’s initiative in the memorandum composed by a council of bishops on Solovki on the separation of Church and State, and the possibility of the Church’s existence under a regime that was ideologically diametrically opposed to the Orthodox Church and everything it believes in and stands for. It took the stance that the Church should not involve itself in politics, but by the same token, the State should not interfere with the regular life of the Church. “The memorandum concludes that if the Soviet government accepts these conditions of coexistence, then the Church ‘will rejoice in the justice of those on whom such policies depend. If … not, she is ready to go on suffering, and will respond calmly, remembering that her power is not in the wholeness of her external administration, but in the unity of faith and love of her children; but most of all she lays her hopes upon the unconquerable power of her divine Founder’” (Dimitry Pospielovsky, The Russian Church Underthe Soviet Regime 1917–1982 [Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1984],

vol. 1, pp. 142–46).—Trans.

[14] Named for Metropolitan Joseph (Petrovykh) of Petrograd, who separated from Metropolitan Sergius over the latter’s declaration of loyalty to the Soviet regime and was one of the leaders of the early underground Church in Russia. The present article was written in the 1960s, during a period of “standoff ” between the Moscow Patriarchate and the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia over the relative correctness of Metropolitan Sergius’ actions and those of the hierarchs who disagreed with and separated from him. Arguments of the supporters and detractors of the declaration of Metropolitan Sergius, such as those presented in this article, were purposely set aside in 2007, with the reunion of the two parts of the Russian Church.

In 1981 Metropolitan Joseph was canonized among the New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia by the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia, and he continues to be held in high esteem by Russian believers both within and outside their motherland. When the Moscow Patriarchate canonized the New Martyrs and Confessors in 2000, among the newly canonized saints were hierarchs and clergymen who had supported and commemorated Metropolitan Sergius, as well as those who had opposed his policies and had not commemorated him as chief hierarch. By this the Patriarchate “legitimatized” a plurality of views concerning the complex and extremely difficult period of the Russian Orthodox Church under the Soviet regime.—Ed.

[15] New Hiero-confessor Victor (†1934) was canonized by the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia in 1981, and by the Moscow Patriarchate in 2000. He is commemorated on April 19 and June 18.—Ed.

[16] In May 1922, members of the “Living Church” schism illegally took over administration of the Church, taking advantage of the fact that Patriarch Tikhon was then under house arrest.—Trans.

[17] Patriarch Alexei I of Moscow and All Russia.

[18] Published in English in Orthodox Life, May–June 1998, pp. 35–44.

[19] Published in English by Holy Trinity Monastery, Jordanville, N.Y., 1985.

[20] Published in this issue of The Orthodox Word.


http://www.pravoslavie.ru/english/33316.htm
Georgios Rossos
 

Re: Hieromartyr Hilarion (Troitsky), Archbishop of Verey

Unread postby Georgios Rossos » Sat Nov 19, 2011 9:18 pm

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The reliquary of New Hieromartyr Hilarion (Troitsky), Sretensky Monastery, Moscow



Pascha of Incorruption


The reliquary of New Hieromartyr Hilarion (Troitsky), Sretensky Monastery, Moscow

Listen to the triumphant chants of the Church! Not only on the days of Holy Pascha, but on all the great feasts, you often hear the word, "incorruption." The whole matter of salvation of the human race is expressed in living Church theology as the gift of incorruption. It means that we need incorruption. We are in a state of corruption. The synaxarion for the Holy and Great week of Pascha [Bright Week] is of course only read in monasteries, and not even in all of them. Meanwhile, the meaning of the events we celebrate during this week is described thus: "Then He came down from the heavens and made His dwelling in the womb of the Virgin; now He has stolen human nature from the treasury of hell, raised it to heaven, and brought incorruption—man’s ancient inheritance." There are two remarkable details here: Pascha is positioned next to the events of the Nativity of Christ, and corruption is called the ancient inheritance.

When you hear the chants in Church, you become more and more convinced that they are truly rich in a treasure of ideas, and are greatly important for a truly Orthodox understanding of life today. Our dogmatics courses taught in the theological seminaries and academies are in this respect on an immeasurably lower level than that theology taught to the faithful by our readers and chanters from the church cliros.

Pascha of incorruption… The ancient inheritance is returned… Our seminary theology talks about some legal accounts between God and man. Sin is called for the most part a crime against God, an offense against God, for which God’s justice must take revenge against the despicable offender. But the Church first of all calls sin corruption, the loss of our ancient inheritance: incorruption. In this there are no legal accounts to settle with the Lord God. Man fell away from God, and his spiritual and physical corruption began. Self-rule in spiritual life led to slavery to sin and passions. Man began to decay in seductive passions. The soul rots and decays. This may sound strange, but that is really how it is. The process of spiritual corruption can be compared to any kind of decay. If an organism decays, everything breaks down in it, and with time, poisonous and foul smelling gases rise from it. It is the same with spiritual nature that has been harmed and infected by sin, which is as if rotting. The soul loses its chastity, its integrity, and decays; its will is weakened, along with everything connected with it and everything subject to it. Passionate thoughts and evil deeds continually break forth from the sinful soul. Anyone with an attentive relationship to his own spiritual life would not be surprised at how difficult it is to instill all that is good and beautiful into the soul, and how easily and quickly everything dark and evil takes root and grows in it. Therefore, wouldn’t we say that there is something bad living in our soul? Our soul is not healthy, it is sick. Corruption reigns in our soul, and our body is quite obviously subject to corruption. Many do not notice their spiritual sickness; they stifle the inner groaning and cry of the soul with the noise of life. But death and bodily decay are irrefutable, and all life’s vivid color pales before this decay. They can reject the works of the ascetics who expound upon spiritual death, and perhaps even laugh at them. But find me a nihilist who could not understand the funeral services and St. John Damascene’s lamentation over the grave!

Humanity has always seen the inner corruption of its spiritual nature, and has always beheld with its own eyes the destruction of the temple of its body. To admit that you are spiritually rotting and to know that your body is the inheritance of worms—that is the lot of sinful man! Where is the joy? What can we hope for in the future? Sin is essentially linked with unhappiness and suffering. Sinful awareness paints the future in dark, joyless colors. The Hebrew Sheol, the kingdom of shadows in the murky Hades of the Hellenes and Romans—both depict a disconsolate future.

Salvation is healing. Salvation is freedom from corruption. Salvation is a return to the original goodness of incorruption; for man was created in incorruption. Needed was the restoration to health of human nature. This restoration is given in the incarnation of the Son of God. “We could not have become incorrupt and immortal, had not the Incorrupt and Immortal One not been first made what we are.” The Incorrupt and Immortal One, in His unity of persons, has assumed “the corruption and death of my stolen nature.” The nature of corruption received the inoculation of incorruption, and the process of creation’s renewal, the process of man’s deification, has begun, as has also begun the creation of god-humanity. The sting of death has been blunted. Corruption is conquered, for the antidote for the illness of corruption is given. All those born of earth have inevitably come to those gates of death and hid behind them, trembling with horror. But now, Christ is resurrected! What does this mean? This means that salvation is truly wrought. For, human nature has joined with Divine nature in the person of Christ, “unmingled, unchanged, undivided, and inseparable.” It is not God Who has passed through the gates of death, and not before God were the “eternal chambers open wide,” not for God’s sake was the stone rolled away from the doors of the tomb, but for the sake of the God-Man. Together with Christ, our human nature has passed through the mysterious gates of death. Death reigns, but not forever!

Death was terrible to the human race before Christ’s death, but after Christ’s resurrection, man became terrible to death, for One of us has conquered death; He did not remain in the tomb, and did not see corruption. Passover was the freeing of Israel from Egypt. Our Pascha frees us from the slavery of death and corruption. Christ is risen! I now know that my salvation is truly wrought. I know that God truly appeared on earth. There have been great people, conquerors of the elements, conquerors of nature; but death cut them all down and revealed our common nothingness. Who has passed through the doors of death? It can only be God. This means that God was truly incarnate on earth, truly brought the healing cure against the corruption that corrodes and torments me. Incarnation and resurrection are united into one. The incarnation gave meaning to the resurrection, and the resurrection irrefutably convinces us of its truth and reality as something that is not a phantom or a dream.

Now I am no longer frightened by death, for I have seen the victory over corruption. I also see a different law other than the law of life working in me—I see the law of death and corruption. I see how sin reigns over me at times. But I know that this reign has been shaken, that my situation is not hopeless. I can now hope for victory, I can hope to overcome sin, I can hope for freedom from slavery to corruption. Now I can look with joy upon the podvig of struggle with sin and passions, for the enemy has been conquered many times by ascetical strugglers. The saints of God shine in the heavens of the Church like stars—those who lived on the earth, conquered sin, attained purity and chastity, which is incorruption, and therefore departed rejoicing upon the way of all the earthly. Incorruption, that is, purity and chastity, gives joy. Blessedness is not an external reward, as unfortunate Catholic hirelings reason with their minds. Blessedness is the inner consequence of virtue. Virtue is a healthy soul, and a healthy person is always happier than a sick one. My sinful illness is curable—the resurrection of Christ convinces me of this. To me is opened the blessedness of paradise. Let no one lament his poverty when entering the Kingdom of all! Joy has come to all, because hope for incorruption, for redemption from sinful corruption, has also come. Christ God has brought us out of death into life. Egypt is left behind, Pharaoh has perished, and the Promised Land and incorrupt Kingdom lay ahead—where there are many abodes, and where the rejoicing is endless! Pascha of incorruption! Salvation of the world!

Christ is Risen!
New Hieromartyr Hilarion (Troitsky), Archbishop of Verey
From his three-volume work, published by Sretensky Monastery [in Russian]
Translated by Nun Cornelia (Rees)


http://www.pravoslavie.ru/english/46170.htm
Georgios Rossos
 

Re: archimandritis Ιωάννης Κρεστιάνκιν

Unread postby Georgios Rossos » Sat Nov 19, 2011 11:21 pm

Father Ioann (Krestiankin)

The Elder John Krestiankin turns 95.
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The Elder John Krestiankin turns 95.

RECOLLECTIONS OF A SPIRITUAL SON


Not long before his death Fr. John called me and said, "I'm going to die soon. Please do me a favor and write what you remember and want to say about me. Otherwise, people will write about me anyway, and they will come up with such things as they did about poor Fr. Nicholas, who supposedly resurrected cats. That way I'll look everything over and be at peace [1]

Thus, fulfilling my spiritual father's obedience, I began this task in the hope that Batiushka himself would separate the wheat from the chaff, perhaps suggest some things that I might have forgotten, and, as always, correct any mistakes I might have made.

I will not write very much about what Fr. John meant to me. My whole monastic life was inseparably connected with him. He has been and remains for me the ideal of an Orthodox Christian, a monk, and a loving and demanding priest and father.

It would be impossible, of course, to re-tell everything that happened over the course of our relationship. His spiritual counsels can be read in his published letters. In my opinion, they are the best that have been written in the area of spiritual and moral literature in Russia for the last fifty years. I would like to relate something else, known to me personally.

For me, Fr. John's main spiritual quality was not only his gift of discernment, but also his unshakeable faith in the all-good and perfect Providence of God, which leads a Christian to salvation. An epigraph to one of Fr. John's books is something he often repeated: "The main things in spiritual life are faith in God's Providence and discernment with guidance." Once, in answer to my perplexity, Batiushka wrote: "At the moment I am reading a passage from the Old Testament, and what depth [I find in it]: A man's heart deviseth his way, but the Lord directeth his steps (Prov. 16:9). The wise Solomon bore this out. You, also, in your own life must be convinced that it can be no other way."

I don't want to force my opinion on anyone, but I am deeply convinced that Fr. John was one of the very few people living in our times to whom the Lord revealed His Divine will-about specific people and about events taking place in the Church and the world. This is probably due to the highest manifestation of love for God and devotion to His holy will, in response to which the Lord reveals the destiny of people to the Christian ascetic, making such a man a sharer in His mysteries. I repeat that I don't want to force my opinion on anyone, but I have been led to this feeling by many real-life stories connected with Fr. John. And it is not only my opinion. My closest spiritual friends, the now deceased Fr. Raphael and Abbot Nikita, who introduced me to Fr. John, thanked God first of all for the fact that their spiritual father was a man to whom God's will was revealed, and each of us experienced this personally. Unfortunately, though, as often happens in life, even when we know God's will we cannot find the strength and determination to fulfill it. But I will speak about this later.

I met Fr. John in the autumn of 1982, when immediately after my Baptism I arrived at the Pskov-Caves Monastery. Back then he did not particularly impress me: a very kind old man, quite robust (he was only seventy-two then), always in a hurry, always surrounded by a crowd of pilgrims. Other residents of the monastery looked much more severely ascetic and monastic. But not much time at all passed before I began to understand that this old man was what in old Russia had been called an 'elder' since ancient times. This is the rarest and most precious phenomenon in the Church.

Trust and obedience are the main rule of the relationship between a Christian and his spiritual father. Of course, one cannot manifest absolute obedience to every spiritual father. Such spiritual directors are a rarity. This is quite a delicate matter. Very serious spiritual and life tragedies often happen when unreasoning priests imagine themselves to be elders, and their unfortunate spiritual children take upon themselves a form of absolute obedience which is beyond their strength and entirely inappropriate in our times. Fr. John never ordered or forced anyone to listen to his spiritual advice. People would come to free, unfeigned obedience to him through experience and time. He never called himself an elder. When he was told he was, he would smile and say that there are no elders nowadays, only experienced old men. He remained convinced of that. However, I am convinced that in his person the Lord sent me a true elder, who knew God's will for me and all that is needed for my salvation.

I recall, when I was still a young novice in the monastery, a Moscow pilgrim came up to me and told me what he had just witnessed: Fr. John, surrounded by pilgrims, was hurrying through the monastery courtyard towards the church. Suddenly a tear-stained woman with a three-year-old child in her arms rushed up to him: "Batiushka, bless me to go ahead with his surgery-the doctors say it must be done immediately, in Moscow." And then something happened which stunned both me and the pilgrim who told me the story. Fr. John stopped and firmly told her: "Under no circumstances. He'll die on the operating table. Pray and give him medical treatment, but by no means have the surgery. He'll recover." And he made the sign of the Cross over the child.

The pilgrim and I sat down and were terrified by our own speculations: What if Fr. John is mistaken? What if the baby dies? What would the mother do to Fr. John if that happens? Of course, we couldn't believe that Fr. John had displayed a crude denial of medicine, something which, however rare, still is not unheard of in some Church circles. We knew of many cases when Fr. John would bless surgery and even insist on it. There were many well-known doctors among his spiritual children. With dread we awaited what would happen. Would the broken-hearted mother show up in the monastery and raise a monstrous scandal? Or would nothing of the kind happen, as Fr. John had predicted?

Apparently nothing happened, because Fr. John went on as before with his daily walk between the church and his cell, surrounded by pilgrims filled with hope and gratitude. It remained for us to assume that Fr. John foresaw God's Providence for that infant, and took upon himself the great responsibility for his life. And the Lord did not put the faith and hope of his faithful servant to shame.

I remembered that incident ten years later, in 1993. A very similar story ended, on the one hand, tragically from a human perspective, but on the other, due to Fr. John's prayers, it served for the eternal salvation of a Christian soul and as a profound lesson for those who witnessed it.

Usually, when he was firmly convinced of the correctness and necessity of his counsels for someone who had turned to him, Batiushka tried to persuade, convince, or even beg and plead with the person to carry out what was necessary. If that person stubbornly insisted on his own will, Batiushka usually sighed and said, 'Well, then, try it. Do what you think is right.' And always, as far as I know about such cases, those who did not follow Fr. John's wise spiritual advice would bitterly repent of it in the end. As a rule, the next time they came to him it would be with the firm intention of doing as he said. Fr. John always received such people with true love and compassion, and never begrudged them his time, trying with all his might to correct their mistake.

There lived in Moscow a very interesting and unique woman, Valentina Pavlovna Konovalova.& She was a kind of real Moscow kupchikha (of the merchant class), and looked as though she had walked out of a canvas by Kustodiev. At the beginning of the 1990s she was sixty years old. She was the director of a large grocery depot on Prospect Mira. Plump and stocky, she would sit regally at the desk in her office, where behind her, even in the most difficult Soviet times, large icons hung on the walls. On the floor by her desk there lay a huge plastic sack of money. She herself, at her own discretion, would decide how to spend that money-whether to send her subordinates to buy a consignment of fresh vegetables, or to give it away to the poor and vagrants who flocked to her store in large numbers. Her employees feared her, but loved her. During Lent she would arrange for an Unction service right in her office, which even the Tartars who worked at the depot would reverently attend. During the years of deficiency, Moscow priests and sometimes even bishops would drop in on her. With some she would be respectful, while with others, whose "ecumenism" she did not approve of, she would be curt and even rather rude.

Many times, as part of my obedience, I would drive from [the Pskov-Caves Monastery in] Pechory to Moscow in a large truck to purchase provisions for the monastery for Pascha and Nativity. Valentina Pavlovna would receive us novices in a very warm and motherly way, and we became friends with her, especially since we had a favorite topic for our conversations: our common confessor, Fr. John. Batiushka was perhaps the only man in the world whom Valentina Pavlovna feared, infinitely respected, and loved. Twice a year, with her closest colleagues she would go to the monastery in Pechory, and would fast and confess there. It would be impossible to recognize her then. She would be so meek, quiet and shy-in no way reminiscent of the "Moscow queen."

At the end of 1993 several changes took place in my life. I was appointed as Superior of the metochion of the Pskov-Caves Monastery in Moscow, the present-day Sretensky Monastery, and I often made trips to Pechory. Valentina Pavlovna, who had a cataract in her eye, once requested that I ask Fr. John's blessing for her to have the cataract removed at the Feodorov Ophthalmic Institute. Fr. John's reply surprised me a little: 'No, no, by no means. Not now, let some time go by.' The next day I passed his exact words on to her, and Valentina Pavlovna was very distressed-everything had been already arranged at the Feodorov Institute. So she wrote Fr. John a detailed letter, explaining to him that it was a very simple operation, not worth any attention, and asking for his blessing again.

Fr. John, of course, knew as well as she did what kind of surgery it was, and that it didn't pose any serious threat. But, having read her letter, he became terribly anxious. We sat together for a long time, and he kept persuading me that it was essential to talk Valentina Pavlovna out of having the surgery at that time. He wrote to her again. He asked, begged, and even ordered her, as her spiritual father, to put off the surgery. I had two free weeks coming up. I hadn't had a vacation for over ten years, so Fr. John blessed me to go to a sanatorium in the Crimea for two weeks, and to take Valentina Pavlovna with me. He told her about that in the letter as well, adding that she was to have her surgery a month after the vacation. "If she has her surgery now, she'll die," he sadly told me when we were saying goodbye to each other.

However, in Moscow I realized that we had run into a brick wall. All of a sudden, Valentina Pavlovna, probably for the first time in her life, rose up against the will of her spiritual father. She at first firmly refused to go to the Crimea, but then it seemed as though she was humbling herself. But she was quite indignant that Fr. John was making so much fuss about such a trifle. I told her that no matter what, I was going to work on making our arrangements, and we would soon be going to the Crimea.

A few days later I received the Patriarch's blessing for the trip, after which I ordered two reservations, which were not difficult to obtain at that time of year. Then I called the store to tell Valentina Pavlovna about our departure. "She's in the hospital, in surgery," her assistant told me.

"What?!" I cried. "But Fr. John strictly forbade her!"

It turned out that a couple of days earlier some nun, formerly a doctor, had called on her, and having found out about her cataract problem, didn't agree with Fr. John's decision, either. So she took it upon herself to get a blessing from one of the spiritual fathers of the Holy Trinity-St. Sergius Lavra. A blessing was received, and Valentina Pavlovna went straight to the Feodorov Institute, hoping that after a short and simple operation she would go with me to the Crimea. However, during the surgery, right on the operating table, she had a serious stroke and was totally paralyzed. As soon as I learned about it I rushed to call Fr. Philaret, Fr. John's long-time cell-attendant. In exceptional cases Fr. John would go down to Fr. Philaret's cell and use his phone.

"How could you! Why didn't you listen to me?" cried Fr. John, almost in tears. "If I insist on something, that means I know what I'm doing!"

What could I tell him? I asked Fr. John what I was to do. Valentina Pavlovna was still unconscious. Fr. John said I should take the Reserved Gifts from the church to my cell, and as soon as Valentina Pavlovna regained consciousness I was to immediately go and confess her and give her Holy Communion.

By Fr. John's prayers, Valentina Pavlovna became conscious the next day. Her relatives immediately informed me, and I was at the hospital in half an hour. She was wheeled out to me in one of the intensive care wards. She was lying, so tiny, under a white sheet. She could not speak, and upon seeing me started crying. Her confession, that she had given in to the enemy's temptation in her disobedience to and distrust of her spiritual father, was clear without any words. I read the prayer of absolution over her and gave her Communion. We bade farewell to each other. The next day Fr. Vladimir Chuvikin communed her again, and soon afterwards she died. According to an ancient Church tradition, the soul of a person who has been vouchsafed to receive Communion on the day of his death goes to the Lord's throne, escaping the tollhouses. This happens either to great ascetics, or people with exceptionally pure hearts. Or to those who have very powerful intercessors.&

The history of the restoration of Sretensky Monastery has also been continually connected with Archimandrite John. In that year, 1993, I came to Fr. John with a whole mass of problems. After a long conversation in Fr. John's cell, he did not give me any direct answers, and we were in a hurry to attend the Vigil service to Archangel Michael. I prayed in the cliros, and Fr. John prayed in the altar. I was preparing to vest in order to pray the Akathist, when Fr. John literally ran out of the altar, and taking me by the hand, said joyfully, "You will found a metochion of the Pskov-Caves Monastery in Moscow."

"Batiushka," I said, "His Holiness the Patriarch does not bless the founding of metochions in Moscow, unless they be of stavropegic monasteries. Another monastery made such a request to the Patriarch not long ago, and His Holiness answered that if we were to give churches to all the monasteries desiring metochions, there would be no parishes left in Moscow.

[He said,] "Have no fear! Go straight to His Holiness and ask to open a metochion of the Pskov-Caves Monastery."

He gave me a heartfelt blessing, according to his custom, and there was nothing left for me to do but to kiss his hand and place all hope in God's hands, and in his prayers.

Everything turned out just as Fr. John said. I made my request, albeit not without fear, to His Holiness the Patriarch about the opening of a metochion of the Pskov-Caves Monastery. But the Patriarch replied very mercifully to this request, blessed this resolution, and immediately delegated the matter to [Vicar Bishop] Arseny and [Dean] Fr. Vladimir Divakov. Thus was the first and only diocesan metochion opened in Moscow, which, as Fr. John also had foretold, would later become an independent monastery, never losing its spiritual connection with either Pechory or Fr. John. It is superfluous to say that Fr. John's blessing and counsel in the monastery's life was most precious and desirable for us. I must confess, though, that not all the letters I received were affectionate. Sometimes his letters were so stern that I could not regain my composure for several days.

Usually when someone begins to reminisce about Fr. John, they write about how good, kind, and loving he was. Yes, this is undoubtedly true; I never knew a man more able to express fatherly, Christian love. However, it must be added that Fr. John could be truly tough when necessary. He could at times find such words of reproach that one would not envy the recipient afterwards. I recall when I was a novice in Pechory, I happened to hear what Fr. John said to two young hieromonks: "What kind of monks are you? You are only jolly fellows." Fr. John was never afraid to speak the truth without respect of persons, and he did so first of all in order to correct and save the soul of the one with whom he spoke, be he a hierarch or a simple novice. This firmness and spiritual integrity was of course placed in Fr. John's soul from early childhood, when he knew those great ascetics and New Martyrs. This was all an expression of true Christian love for God and people. It was also, of course, an expression of a true Christian consciousness. Here is one reply to a letter from me in 1997: "Here is another example of an analogous situation from my memory's archives. I was twelve years old at the time, but the impression was so earth-shakingly strong, that to this day I can still see everything that happened, and remember each participant by name.

"A remarkable Vladyka served in Orel-Archbishop Seraphim Ostroymov-an exceedingly intelligent, kind and loving man, about whom there could be no end of eulogy. He prepared himself by his life for a crown of martyrdom, which did in fact come to pass. So, on Forgiveness Sunday this godly hierarch banished two monks from the monastery, Igumen Callistos and Hierodeacon Tikhon, for some transgression. He banished them authoritatively, in front of other people, thereby preserving others from temptation, and then immediately preached a homily about Forgiveness Sunday and asked forgiveness of all.

"My childish consciousness was quite shaken by what had taken place, precisely because the one thing occurred right after the other: first banishment, that is, the absence of forgiveness, and then the humble asking of forgiveness for himself, and his own forgiveness of everyone. I only understood one thing: that punishment can serve as the beginning of forgiveness, and without it, there can be no forgiveness.

"Now I bow down before Vladyka's courage and wisdom, for the lesson he taught remained as a living example for all present then, as you see-for a whole lifetime."

What else can I write of essential importance, so that Fr. John himself could read these lines and confirm the veracity of this testimony?

During the years of our relationship I noticed that Fr. John had particular principles regarding spiritual counsel. Of course, he did not apply them automatically. Interesting to me was his advice about marriage. He blessed marriage only after the bride and bridegroom had known each other for at least three years. This seems a very long term to today's impetuous youth. However, many cases have shown how Fr. John's experience and insistence on this time of testing could save the souls of the husband and wife, and of their family. I know many instances when priests out of pity shortened this term before marriage given by Fr. John, with woeful consequences for the young families.

With regard to monastic tonsure, Fr. John as a rule also demanded a significant time of testing. He likewise placed great emphasis upon parental blessing. For example, I waited ten years for Fr. John's decision about my tonsure, until my mother blessed me to be a monk. In response to all of my impatient requests for the tonsure, Fr. John always persuaded me to wait for my mother's blessing. He assured me that the Lord would not forget this patience and obedience. I remembered these words when they tonsured me in Donskoy Monastery. It turned out that I was tonsured on my very birthday, when I turned thirty-three, and was named after my favorite saint-Holy Hierarch Tikhon, Patriarch of Moscow.

Fr. John related to hierarchs and archpastors of the Church with enormous reverence, love, and obedience. He was truly a man of the Church. Many times did he bless people to do exactly as His Holiness [the Patriarch] would decide, or as the bishop or the abbot would bless. This was based upon faith that on earth truth abides only in the Church, is deeply felt there, and is brought to Her spiritual children. Fr. John did not countenance any schisms or revolts; he always fearlessly and fearsomely spoke out against them, although he knew what slanders and even hatred he would have to drink for this. But he endured it all, lest he himself or his spiritual flock stray from the royal path of the Church.

This applies also to the trials our Church has experienced over the recent decades: reformist tendencies on the one hand, and on the other, morbid eschatological moods. In both cases, Fr. John exercised discernment, showing love for those who were confused spiritually due to faulty reasoning and the enemy's snares, yet warning of the harm which they were actively and even viciously ready to bring to the Church. Nearly a century of Church life gave Fr. John a serious advantage in the discernment of spirits, in determining what one or another distraction, renovation, or "zeal not according to knowledge" (cf. Rom. 10:2) might bring. Truly, there is nothing new under the sun. "I will not participate in your campaign," he wrote to one young and very sincere hieromonk, who was proposing that Fr. John participate in the movement "Life without the Social Security Number." He wrote, "The very spirit of such activity, with its abundant selfishness, noise, and hope in man rather than in God, yes, and especially with its criticism of the Church hierarchy, which springs out like a fountain in your words, forbids me to do so. I have already seen such things in the activities of the renovationists, who rose up against the most gentle Patriarch Tikon, in fact, against the Lord Himself and His Church."

Fr. John many times expressed his sober and deeply considered reaction to the problems of the global computer accounting system and other similar tendencies of the modern world. This has all been published in many places and has served for many as a cause of spiritual peace, calming of the spirit of revolt, and trust in the Russian Orthodox Church. For others it unfortunately served as a reason to attack Fr. John, and even to slander him outright.

I think that this experience of slander and hatred coming during the last years of his life was sent by the Lord providentially. St. Barsanuphius of Optina, it seems, wrote somewhere that the Lord sends such trials to his servants precisely at the end of their lives, as an image of the Savior's Golgotha.

Several years before these events, Fr. John also stood firm under fire in order to preserve the people of the Church from the temptation of a new renovationism. He often met and conversed with currently popular supporters of modernization and renovation in the Church. Only after exhausting every means of convincing them of the extreme danger of this path, did he pronounce clearly, precisely, for all to hear, and with full responsibility for his words: "If we do not destroy this movement, it will destroy the Church."

I was a witness to how Fr. John endured the hatred and false accusations poured out upon him for standing in the Truth of Christ. I saw all his pain, but also his good nature, when he endured misunderstanding and betrayal. Batiushka never lost his infinite love for his offenders, or his Christian forgiveness. I will always remember the words of his sermon in the St. Michael Cathedral of the Pskov-Caves Monastery in 1985. "The Lord has given us a commandment to love our neighbors. But we mustn't worry about whether or not they love us. We must only take care that we love them."

One Moscow priest, a spiritual son of Fr. John, came to me with a terrible request: to return the epitrachelion with which Fr. John had blessed him for the priesthood. This priest, as he said, was disappointed with Fr. John for not supporting his dissident political views. This was in the late eighties. What didn't this priest say? But he was deaf to my arguments: that Fr. John had himself spent many years in prison camps; that he was tortured but not broken; that he was the last person who could be suspected of conformism. With a heavy heart I gave this epitrachelion to Batiushka. His reaction stunned me. He crossed himself, kissed the priestly vestment reverently, and said, "I gave it to him with love, and I accept it again with love." Later, this priest joined another jurisdiction. He did not like it there either, and joined another.&

Neither can I hide the following fact, which might evoke varying responses, but for the sake of truth I cannot keep silent about it. Yes, Fr. John certainly did revere and submit to the Church hierarchy, but this did not mean automatic, unthinking submission. I witnessed an occasion when one of the monastery's abbots and the ruling hierarch tried to persuade Batiushka to give his blessing on their decision, with which Fr. John did not agree. They needed the elder's authority to support their decision. They approached Batiushka seriously, as they say, "with a knife to the throat." Monks and priests can imagine what it means to stand up to pressure from their ruling hierarch or abbot. But Fr. John withstood this prolonged pressure quite calmly. He respectfully, patiently, and meekly explained that he could not say "I bless" to something that did not agree with his soul, but should his superiors consider it necessary to take this action, then he would unmurmuringly accept their decision-they would answer for it before God and the brothers. He said, however, that he considered that this decision was being taken out of passion, and he could not give his "good word" on it.

Much more could be written, chiefly about how the souls of people who met Fr. John were transformed and resurrected, how people obtained faith and salvation. But this is bound up with people who are still alive, and therefore I cannot relate these stories without their permission.

In conclusion I would like to say just one thing: I thank the Lord that by His great mercy He gave me, a sinner, the chance to meet such a Christian in my life and to get to know him. I think there has never been anything more astounding in my life so far, nor is there ever likely to be in its remainder.




[1]Archpriest Nicholas (Gurianov, +2002), from Zalit Island, Pskov Province.

http://www.pravoslavie.ru/english/7194.htm
Georgios Rossos
 

The Life of St. Ambrose of Optina

Unread postby Georgios Rossos » Sun Nov 20, 2011 3:54 pm

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St. Ambrose in cell (Shamordino)

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St. Ambrose in grave

The Life of St. Ambrose of Optina
Commemorated October 10/23



Hieromonk Ambrose was born on November 23, 1812 to the family of a sexton Michael Feodorovitch and his wife Martha Nikolaevna, in a village called Big Lipovitsa, situated in the district of Tambovsk. On the eve of his birth, many guests gathered at the house of his grandfather, who was the village priest. On that day, the house was overflowing with bustling people—inside as well as in the courtyard. Martha Nikolaevna was moved to the bathhouse, and shortly thereafter, gave birth to Alexander—future Elder of Optina hermitage—holy Ambrose of Optina. Later in life, the Starets would jokingly reiterate: "Just as I was born in the middle of a crowd, I continue to live surrounded by them."

Michael Feodorovitch had 8 children: 4 sons and 4 daughters; Alexander was the sixth child. As a child, Alexander was a lively, happy and bright boy. According to the custom of that time, Alexander was taught to read in Slavonic alphabet, both the Prayerbook and Psalms. Every church festive day, he would read and sing with his father in the choir section. As he was brought up in a strictly church and religious environment, he never saw or heard anything corrupt.

When he turned twelve, he was enrolled in first form at the ecclesiastical college of Tambovsk. He studied well, and upon finishing the course in 1830, was admitted to the Tambovsk Seminary. Once again, study came easy to him. As one of his former classmates used to reminisce: "Sometimes, you would spend your last cent to buy a candle so that you can continue studying your lessons; he (Alexander Grenkov) however studied little, but would appear in the classroom and answer all the mentor’s questions—just as it is written, better than anyone." In July 1836, having successfully completed his studies, Alexander did not enter the ecclesiastical Academy nor did he enrol to study for priesthood. It was as though he felt a special calling in his soul and was therefore in no hurry to commit himself to a fixed position; as though he was expecting God’s call. He spent some time as private tutor to a country squire’s family and then as a teacher in a religious school at Lipets. Possessing a lively and cheerful disposition, benevolence and a sharp wit, Alexander Mihailovich was loved by his friends and workmates. Falling dangerously ill during his final year of studies at the Seminary, he gave a promise that should he recover, he would be tonsured into a monastic order. Upon recovering from his illness, he did not forget his promise. Nevertheless, he delayed its fulfilment for a few years, because as in his own expression, he was "reluctant." However, his conscience was not giving him any peace. The more time elapsed, the greater were his pangs of remorse. Periods of youthful and carefree gaiety and insouciance were replaced with intervals of sharp anguish, melancholy, fervent prayers & tears.

Once, during a walk through a forest in Lipetsk, he paused on the bank of a river and through the bubbling sounds of the water, distinctly heard the words spoken "Praise God, love God."

Returning home and isolating himself from inquisitive eyes, he started to pray ardently to the Mother of God so that She may enlighten his mind and direct his will. On the whole, he did not possess a strong will, and in his old age would say to his spiritual children: "You must listen to me from my first word. I am a very obliging person. If you start to argue with me, I may accede and that would not be to your benefit." In the same diocese of Tambovsk, in the village of Troyekoorovo, there lived a well renowned ascetic Hilarion. Alexander Mihailovich came to him for advice and was told by the starets: "Go to Optina hermitage—there you will become experienced. You could also go to Sarov, but now there are no experienced elders as there were before" (Seraphim of Sarov reposed a short time earlier). When the summer holidays arrived in 1839, Alexander Mihailovitch together with his seminarian friend and colleague from Pokrov educational institution at Lipetsk, outfitted a tilt-cart and set out on a pilgrimage to the Troitsa- Sergius Monastery to worship before the Abbot of Russia—Saint Sergius.

Returning home to Lipetsk, Alexander Mihailovitch continued to hesitate and could not make the decision to forsake the world. Nonetheless, this did happen one evening as he was amusing fellow guests. Everybody was happy and contented, and dispersed to their respective homes in high spirits. With regard to Alexander Mihailovitch, if in the past, under similar circumstances, he felt remorse, now his promise given to God vividly conjured up in his mind. He remembered the fervidness of the spirit in the Troitsa monastery, the former long prayers, the lamentations and tears, God’s directives conveyed to him through Fr. Hilarion.

In the morning, on this occasion, his resolve grew firm. Fearing that he may start to waver because his relatives and friends might try to persuade him to stay, and without even receiving permission from the diocese authorities, Alexander Mihailovitch quietly departed for Optina.

Here he found monastic life at its height: such stalwarts as Abbot Moses, elders Leo (Leonard) and Macarius. Brother of ascetic and sagacious Moses—Hieromonk Anthony—was the superior of the monastery and was equal in spiritual eminence to Alexander Mihailovich.

Under the guidance of the elders, monastic life carried the imprint of spiritual virtue. Simplicity (honesty), meekness and humility—all were outstanding features of Optina monasticism. Junior brothers attempted to humble themselves not only before the seniors, but also in front of other junior members. They were even afraid to offend by looks and any misunderstanding saw the brother hurry to seek forgiveness.

It was in this atmosphere that Alexander Grenkov arrived at the hermitage on 8th Oct. 1839. Leaving his coachman at the guesthouse, he went directly to the chapel. After Liturgy, he proceeded to Elder Leo for his blessing to remain in the monastery. The starets blessed him and directed him to initially live in the guesthouse, transcribing the book "Salvation for sinners" (translated from Modern Greek), dealing with the struggles against carnal desires.

In Jan. 1840 he moved into the monastery although he did not wear an under-vestment. At this time there was an ongoing correspondence with the diocesan authorities - regarding his disappearance - and the superior of Optina had not received a directive from the Archbishop of Kaloozh, inducting teacher Grenkov into the monastery.

Finally, in April 1840, A.M.Grenkov received a blessing to wear monastic raiment. For a short period, he acted as cell assistant and reader (rites and church services) to the elder Leo. Initially, he worked in the monastery bakery producing yeast and baking bread. Then in November 1840, he was transferred to the hermitage. From there, the young novitiate continually visited the starets Leo to receive preceptorials from him. At the hermitage he was an assistant cook for a whole year. Because of his work he often had to visit elder Macarius, to receive his blessing regarding food preparation, or whether he had to toll the bell before a meal, or for some other associated matter. These opportunities allowed him to express his spiritual state to the elder and receive his answers. The aim was for a person to conquer temptation, and not temptation man.

Starets was especially fond of the young novitiate and affectionately called him Sasha. However, motivated by spiritually educational aims, the elder used to test his humility in front of others. With this in mind, he gave him a nickname—"chimera"—and at times would take on an appearance of being angry with him. This name was intended to mean a sterile flower just like cucumber plants produce. But to others he would say "He will be a great man." Expecting his imminent death, starets Leo called Father Macarius and told him about the novitiate Alexander. "Here is a man that has sought refuge in us elders. I am now very weak. So now I am handing him over to you completely, guide him as you will."

After the death of elder Leo Alexander became a lay brother to starets Macarius (1841-1846). In 1842, he was tonsured and took the habit with the name Ambrose (in honour of Saint Ambrose of Milan (whose memory is celebrated on the 7th. Of December). This was followed with him becoming a hierodeacon (1843) and 2 years later—ordained as hieromonk.

During these years, Fr. Ambros's health was greatly weakened. On the 7th of December 1846, during his journey to Kalooga for his ordination, he caught a cold which impacted on his internal organs, leaving him ill for a long time. From that point on, he never really recovered. However he did not feel despondent but rather acknowledged that his physical infirmity was beneficial to his soul: "God does not expect physical deeds from a sick person, but only patience with humility and gratefulness."

From September 1846 to the summer of 1848, his health deteriorated so dangerously that he was tonsured into schema (the severest monastic order) in his cell with the retention of his name. However, to the surprise of many, he started to improve rapidly and even went for outside walks. This sudden break in his illness was a clear sign of God’s will, and as the elder himself would comment later: "Merciful God! In the monastery, the ill do not die quickly but linger on and on, until their illness brings them some real benefit. It is good to be slightly ill in a monastery, particularly for the young, so that the flesh does not rebel and to minimise empty thoughts entering one’s head."

During those years, Father Ambros's training was not only guided by physical ailments sent by God, but through his beneficial communion with the senior brothers, among whom there were real ascetics. As an example, we will cite an event about which subsequently the elder himself related.

Shortly after being ordained as a deacon, he had to serve at a liturgy in a church at Vedensk and consequently, came into the altar to receive abbot Anthony’s blessing, who in turn asked him:"Well, are you getting used to it?" Father Ambrose replied in a nonchalant manner: " With your prayers father!" To which Father Anthony continued: "Toward fear of God?"….Father Ambrose understood that his tone of voice was out of place in the altar and became confused. "In this way," concluded Father Ambrose " the former elders were able to teach us reverence."

During those years, his communion with elder Macarius was especially important for his spiritual augmentation. Notwithstanding his illness, as before, Fr. Ambrose remained in full obedience to the starets, giving him an account of even his minor actions. Receiving Fr. Macarius’s blessing, he busied himself translating books written by holy fathers, and in particular, prepared for publication, the work "The Ladder" written by the holy Abbot John of the Sinai.

Thanks to elder Macarius’s guidance, Fr. Ambrose was able to learn without any special hindrances, the skill of skills—wise prayer. A novitiate’s activity is accompanied by many dangers, and through his inexperience, in trying to apply his own will in the face of significant lamentations, the devil attempts to lead that person toward self-exaltation. In following this path and without a spiritual guide, a novitiate can inflict great harm to his soul. This is what happened to starets Macarius himself when he independently attempted to master this skill. Because he had a highly experienced guide in elder Macarius, Fr. Ambrose was able to avoid the pitfalls of distress and sorrow during his progression through the clever prayer. Although the starets loved his student, but in order to destroy the novitiate’s self-love, it did not stop him, on occasions, to place him in humiliating circumstances. Starets Macarius was guiding him to become a strict ascetic, adorned with poverty, humility, patience and other novitiate virtues. Whenever anybody defended Fr. Ambrose with "Father, he is an ill person!," starets Macarius would respond "Do I know less than you? However, to a monk, reprimands and criticisms are but brushes that sweep away sinful dust from his soul; without this, a monk rusts."

Even while starets Macarius was alive, some of the brothers would visit Fr. Ambrose to discuss their innermost thoughts.

This is how Abbot Mark (he retired to Optina) described it, "As much as I could notice, in those days, Fr. Ambrose lived in isolation without speaking to anyone. Whenever I visited him—which was nearly every day—to discuss my thoughts, I always found him reading spiritual books. Absence from his cell meant that he was with starets Macarius, helping him with correspondence with his spiritual children, or, that he was translating spiritual books. Sometimes I found him sitting on his bed, holding back barely perceptible tears in his eyes. It seemed to me that the elder always moved as if he was in God’s presence, or as though he was constantly aware of His presence, just as it states in a psalm "I have set the Lord always before me…" (Psalm 16:8). Consequently, all his actions were made for God’s sake and to please Him." That is why he constantly agonised, afraid that he may offend God, and this feeling was reflected in his face. Whenever I was in his presence and seeing this concentrated look of the starets, I was always trembled with reverence. And it was impossible for me to be otherwise. Whenever I knelt before him as I usually did to receive his blessing, he would very quietly inquire "Brother, what can you say to me that is good?" Perplexed by his concentration and feelings, I answered "For God’s sake, forgive me batushka. Maybe I have come at a wrong time?"—"No" was the elder’s reply—"say what you have to say, only be brief." Having listened to me attentively, he would reverently give me beneficial instructions and affectionately, release me.

Although rich in spiritual intellect, his instructions did not come from his personal wisdom or reasoning. When he did instruct his spiritual young, it was as if he was one of the learners, offering them not his personal advice but invariably, the potent teachings of holy Fathers." If Fr. Mark complained to Fr. Ambrose about an individual that had inflicted a hurt upon him, the starets would respond in a sad tone of voice "Brother, brother! I am a person that is dying," or, "Today-tomorrow I shall die. What will I do with this brother? After all I am not the Father Superior. You need to reproach yourself, humble yourself before the brother and you will find peace." Such replies used to evoke self-reproachment in Fr. Mark’s soul. After bowing humbly before the starets and asking his forgiveness, he would leave composed and comforted—"fly out as though on wings."

Apart from monks, Fr.Macarius encouraged the bringing together of his lay spiritual children with Fr.Ambrose. Upon seeing Fr.Ambrose conversing with them, he would murmur jokingly "Look, look at that, Ambrose is taking my bread away from me!" In this way, Fr.Macarius was gradually preparing himself a worthy successor. When starets Macarius reposed (7th Sept 1860), the slowly changing events developed in such a way that saw Fr.Ambrose appointed in his place. Forty days after the death of starets Macarius, Fr.Ambrose relocated to another building close to the abbey courtyard, to the right of the belfry. On the western side of this building was an addition called "Shanty," which served as a reception area for visiting women (as they were not allowed inside the abbey). Fr.Ambrose spent thirty years at this abbey, independently serving his brothers before departing for "Shamardino."

He had two cell-assistants: Fr.Michael and Fr.Joseph (future elder). His main secretary was Fr.Clement (Zederholm), son of a Protestant pastor. A highly educated individual, who was a Master of Greek literature, he converted to Orthodoxy.

Initially, in order to observe the rites, he would wake up at 4 am, ring the bells which summoned his assistants, who would then read the morning prayers, twelve selected psalms and First Hour. Afterwards, he would retire to spend time in wise prayer. After a short rest, the starets would attend the hours: third, sixth and typika, and depending upon the time of the day, the canon and acathithus to Jesus Christ or His Holy Mother. He would listen to these akathists standing. After prayer and a light breakfast, the working day would begin, interrupted by a short lunch break. The amount of food the starets would consume equalled to that given to a three-year-old child. During lunch, the cell attendants would relay questions to him posed by the visitors. After a brief rest, the intense toil recommenced—continuing deep into the night. Notwithstanding his weakened and ailing state, the starets always finished the day with evening prayer rule, made up of small compline, canon to the Guardian Angel and evening prayers. The continuous flow of people visiting the starets had his cell attendants run off their feet. Occasionally the elder would lie still, as though without any feeling. After the Rule, the starets would ask forgiveness "for having sinned gravely by deed, word, thought." Having received his blessing, the cell attendants would head for the door, as the bells would peal the Hour. The starets would inquire feebly "Which hour is it?," "The twelfth" came the response. "You are late" would be his comment.

After two years, a new sickness overtook the starets. If before his health was fragile, now it was completely feeble. From that point on, he was unable to go to church and partook of the Holy Sacraments in his cell. In 1869, his health reached such a low point that hope for his recovery started to wane. The miracle-working icon of Mother of God of Kaloozh was brought to him. After Te Deum, cell vigil and Extreme Unction, his health improved although extreme weakness remained with him for the rest of his life.

These severe relapses returned more than once. It is difficult to imagine how the starets, confined to his bed totally fatigued in a state of debilitating infirmity, continued daily to receive multitudes of people and respond to tens of letters. It was through him that the words "God’s strength is realised through infirmities" became a reality. Without God’s selection of him as His crucible through which He spoke and acted, such a feat and gigantic labour would never have been possible through purely human effort. Clearly, God’s life-giving benevolence and assistance was present.

God’s abundant benevolence that resided in him, was the source of those spiritual blessings that allowed him to serve those that visited him, comforting the grieving, strengthening the faith in those that were wavering and directing everybody toward the path of salvation.

Among the spiritual blessings that were gifted to starets Ambrose, which drew thousands of people to him, his perspicacity has to be mentioned in the first instance. He would penetrate deeply into the soul of his visitor and without any need for any explanations, would read it like a book. Without anyone noticing, he would subtly point out the person’s weaknesses, compelling him to think about them seriously. One woman, who visited him often, was addicted to playing cards but too embarrassed to acknowledge this. Once on her visit, she started to ask the starets for his card. Attentively, the elder fixed her with his distinctive look and said: "What mother? Do you think we play cards here at the monastery?" She understood the allusion and confessed her weakness to the starets. His sagacity amazed many, and this immediately influenced them to place themselves fully in his hands in the firm belief that the starets knew better than them what they lacked, what was beneficial for them and what was harmful.

One highly qualified young woman, having finished her higher education in Moscow, and who was an offspring of a woman that was one of Fr.Ambrose’s spiritual daughters, although having never met Fr.Ambrose, did not like him and called him "hypocrite." Her mother talked her into spending some time with Fr.Ambrose. Arriving at a public visit to the starets, she stood at the back of everyone, next to the doorway. In opening the door to enter, the starets isolated her behind it. Having said a prayer and glancing over the multitude, he suddenly looked behind the door and said: "And who is this giant standing here? Is this—Faith having come to view a hypocrite?" Afterwards, he spoke to her privately, and this changed the young woman’s attitude toward him completely. She came to love him deeply and her fate was settled—she entered a convent at Shamordino. Whoever placed himself - with total faith - under his guidance, never regretted their decision even though initially they may have received directives from him that seemed strange and totally impossible to fulfil.

Usually, very many people gathered at Fr.Ambrose’s. Once, a young woman that was persuaded to visit the Batushka, became irritated because she was kept waiting. Suddenly the door opens wide. The starets, with a bright face, appears in the doorway and loudly states: "Those who are impatient come to me." Coming up to the young woman he leads her away. After their conversation, she becomes a frequent guest at Optina and visitor to Fr.Ambrose.

On one occasion, a group of women gathered in the courtyard. One of them, an elderly woman with a pained face sitting on a tree stump, related how she walked from Voronezh in the hope that the starets would cure her afflicted legs. Seven miles from the monastery, she became lost on the snow-covered path and fell on a log, exhausted. Suddenly, an old man approached her. Dressed in an under-vestment and skoufia, he approached the woman and enquired as to the cause of her tears. Pointing which path to take with his walking stick, the woman followed his direction and rounding some bushes, immediately sighted the monastery. Everybody agreed that the old man was either the monastery’s forester or one of its brothers. Suddenly, a young novice appeared on the perron and loudly asked: "where is Eudoxia of Voronezh?" Everybody glanced at one another but kept quiet. The novice repeated his question, only louder, and added that Batushka is calling her. Having just arrived at the monastery, the woman with the afflicted legs exclaimed, "Dear me, but Eudoxia of Voronez is I!" Forging through the throng that had given way, she arrived at the top of the steps and disappeared through the doorway. After some 15 minutes, she came out of the house in tears, sobbing that the old man in the forest that directed her was non-other than Father Ambrose himself, or someone that looked very much like him. However, there was nobody in the monastery that looked like him, and during winter, due to ill health, he was unable to venture out of his cell. Yet here he is, appearing in the forest, giving directions to a traveller, and then having detailed knowledge of her, half an hour before her arrival!

Here is another instance of Fr.Ambrose’s perspicacity as related by an artisan that visited him: "Shortly before the death of the Starets, some 2 years, I had to travel to Optina to get some money. We had finished making an iconostasis and I was there to receive a rather large sum of money from the father-superior. Having received my payment, I dropped in to Fr. Ambrose to receive his blessing for my return journey. I was in a hurry to get home as was waiting to receive a large order—for about 10,000 roubles, and the clients would definitely call at my home the following day. As usual, the number of people waiting to see the Starets was overwhelming. Having found out about my waiting to see him, he sent his cell attendant to ask me to come in the evening to drink tea with him. Although I was hurrying to get home, the honour and joy to have tea with the Starets were so great, that I reasoned that if I delayed my journey till the evening, I will still be able to get home on time if I travelled all night.

When evening arrived, I went to the Starets. Greeting me, the Starets was so happy and joyful that I did not feel the ground beneath my feet. Batushka, our angel, kept me fairly long as it was getting dark. "Well, go with God" he said, "Sleep here tonight and tomorrow I will bless you to attend liturgy, and afterwards come over for tea. "What’s this?" I thought. However, I didn’t dare object. I slept over, attended liturgy and went to drink tea with the Starets while lamenting about my clients, thinking: perhaps I will be able to get home in the evening. Here’s hoping! Finishing my tea and before I can say to the Starets: ‘Bless me on my journey’, he announces ‘Come over tonight and sleep here.’ Even my legs started to sag; yet I could not object. The day passed, the night passed! In the morning, I became a bit bold and thought: To be or not to be, I shall leave today: perhaps my clients will wait for me for one day. Would you believe! I couldn’t open my mouth when the Starets said: "Go to vespers tonight and liturgy tomorrow morning. Then sleep here again." What sort of parable is this! Here, I began to really grieve, and to be truthful, sinned against the Starets: what a sage! He knows precisely that because of his generosity, a lucrative job has slipped through my fingers. I was so incommodious with the Starets that I was unable to relay my feelings to him. This time, during vespers, I was not up to praying as thoughts flooded my head: "Well here’s a great Starets! Here is a sage…! Your earnings are blown." Ah, was I really annoyed at that time! And my Starets, well, as though purposely and to my sin, God forgive me, and seemingly to taunt, greets me in a joyful mood after the all night vigil! I became bitter and insulted: I thought why is he so happy…But I still did not have the audacity to voice my thoughts. I spent the third night in the usual manner. Overnight, my lament slowly diminished: it was like water under the bridge. In the morning, I came over to the Starets, to be told by him: "Well, its time for you to depart! Go with God! God will bless you! And with time, do not forget to thank God!"

From this point, all my sorrows fell away from me. I left Optina with such a light heart and joy that it is impossible to convey…Only why did batushka tell me: "Later, do not forget to thank God!"…..I thought it was maybe because He gave me the great honour of spending three days in church. Travelling home unhurriedly and not even thinking about my clients, I was very happy that batushka treated me the way he had. I arrived home and what do you think? I am driving through the gates and my clients are right behind me. They were three days late! Well, I thought, my blessed Starets! Your works are indeed wondrous Lord!….However, this did not end here. You listen to what happened further!

A short time later, Fr.Ambrose passed away. Two years after his righteous death, my senior artisan is taken ill. A trusted person, he was worth his weight in gold. He lived with me continuously for twenty years. His illness is life threatening. We sent for a priest to administer the last rites while he was still conscious. Approaching me from the deathbed, the priest says: "The sick person is calling for you, he wants to see you. Hurry, before he dies." As soon as he saw me coming, he somehow managed to prop himself up on his elbows, looked at me and burst into tears: "Please forgive my sin boss! I did want to kill you…." "You what, God forbid! You are delirious…." No boss, I truly wanted to kill you. Remember when you were three days late in returning from Optina. Well, through my arrangement with two others, we waited for you three nights under the bridge: we were after the money you received at Optina for the iconastasis. Due to someone’s prayers, had God not led you away from an unrepentant death, you would not have been alive that night. In God’s name, forgive me, an accursed one, and release my soul with peace!" "God forgive you as I forgive you." He then began to emit death rattles. May his soul rest in Heaven. Great was his sin, but great was his repentance!"

Father Ambrose’s perspicacity was combined with another most valuable gift, especially for a clergyman—discernment. To people who thought deeply about religion, his directives and advice appeared as sound and practical scripture. Often the Starets would give his preceptorials in a semi-humorous format, thereby lifting the person from despondency, yet not diminishing the deep meaning of his words. Because of Fr.Ambrose’s picturesque expressions, people would invariably ponder over them and remember their meaning for a long time. Sometimes, during general gatherings, the constant question would be raised: "How to live?" To this, the Starets would benignly reply: "We must live on earth just as a wheel turns, where only one point is in contact with the ground, while the rest reaches out upward: but we, once we lie down, are unable to get up."

As examples, we will cite some other sayings of the Starets.
"Where there is simplicity, there are a hundred Angels, but where there is cleverness—there are none."

"Do not boast peas that you are better than beans, once you are soaked—you too will burst."

"From what does a person become bad?—From forgetting that there is a God above him."

"Those who think of themselves as having nothing, will lose out."

The Staret’s reasoning also extended toward practical questions, far removed from those problems of spiritual life. Here is an example.

An affluent landowner comes to the Starets and as a matter of course, announces that he intends to establish a watering system throughout his wide-spread apple orchards. Totally occupied with the watercourse, batushka begins with his usual words: "People say that the best way"—and then pictures the waterway in detail. Returning home, the landlord begins to read literature on the topic and realises that batushka’s description was the latest invention in this field of technology. The landlord returns to Optina. ‘Well, what about the watercourse?" asks batushka. Everywhere, apples are spoiling, but with the landlord—a bumper harvest.

Thanks to the powers of reasoning and perspicacity within Starets Ambrose that combined with a remarkable, pure maternal softness of the heart, he was able to alleviate the heaviest sorrow and console the most grieving soul.

Some 3 years after the death of Starets in 1894, one inhabitant from Kozelska related the following: "I had a son who worked for the telegraph company by delivering telegrams. Batushka knew us both. My son used to deliver telegrams to him quite often while I went to him for his blessing. Then my son became ill with tuberculosis and died. I came to him—we all came to him with our sorrows. He stroked my head and said: "Your telegram has been cut short!" "Yes, cut short batushka!" and I began to cry. His compassion made my soul feel light, as though a heavy stone was removed. We lived beside him as though with our own father. Now, there are no more staretses like him. Maybe God will send another one to us."

Love and wisdom—these were the precise qualities that attracted people to the Starets. From morning till evening, people came to him with their pressing questions into which he immersed deeply, living them during the conversation. He always encompassed the crux of the matter with reason and explicated it with incomprehensible wisdom. However, during this 10 to 15 minute dialogue, not only was one issue decided, but during this time Fr.Ambrose intercalated into his heart, the whole human being—with all his attachments, desires—his whole being, internal and external. By the elder’s words and directives, it was clear that he loved not only that person that he was conversing with, but all his loved ones, his life and everything that was dear to him. Considering all aspects of life that may be affected by the subject matter, Fr.Ambrose always bore in mind the possible resultant, significant ramifications—independent of the matter at hand—that may arise from his determinations and affect not only on that person, but others as well. What type of mental concentration was required to solve these problems? Yet these types of enigmas were brought to him by tens of lay people - not counting fellow monks and 50 letters that arrived and were attended to—on a daily basis! Being close to God and in possession of His gift of clairvoyance, the Starets’s words carried great authority. It was prophet’s work.

Insignificant matters did not exist for the Starets. He knew that everything in life had value and its own consequences. Consequently, there was no question that he did not respond to with commitment and a desire to do good. Once, a woman employed by the wife of a landowner to look after her turkeys came to the Starets. For some reason, the turkeys in her charge were dying off and the employer was on the verge of dismissing her. "Batushka!" she turned to him tearfully "I am running out of strength giving all my time to them. I look after them as I would after a treasured one—yet still they fall ill. The mistress wants to replace me. Have pity on me father." The people present laughed at her. Sharing her concerns and after hearing how she fed them, the Starets gave new feeding instructions, blessed her and sent her home. The Starets then pointed out to those that laughed that her whole life revolved around those turkeys. Later it became known that those turkeys became sickness-free.

Instances of his healings were countless and would be impossible to enumerate in this short treatise. The Starets always tried to hide these occurrences.

Once, stooped and leaning on his stick, Starets Ambrose was walking along the road from somewhere toward the abbey. Suddenly, he is confronted with the following scene: a cart fully loaded, next to it lies a dead horse over which a peasant is crying. The loss of a horse, provider to the peasant’s existence, was a substantial misfortune! Nearing the horse, the Starets commenced to walk around it, slowly. Then taking a switch he whipped the horse, shouting: "Get up, loafer"—and the horse stood up obediently.

To many, Starets Ambrose appeared as a distant figure, comparable to Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker, either for the purpose of healing or for liberation from misfortunes. To some, extremely few, the Starets’s power of prayerful intercession before God was revealed graphically. We will bring the recollections of a nun who was one of Fr.Ambrose’s spiritual daughters.

"In his cell an image lamp was alight and a small wax candle was burning on his table. It was too dark and I had no time to read from my notes. I hurriedly said what I remembered and then added: ‘Batushka, what else can I say?' In what else do I repent?—I’ve forgotten.’ Starets rebuked me for this. Suddenly, he got up from his bed. Taking two steps he stood in the middle of his cell. Standing on my knees, I involuntarily followed him with my eyes. Starets straightened out to his full height, lifted his head and raised his arms upward, as though in a prayerful position. It appeared to me at the time that his steps were separated from the ground. I was looking at his radiant head and face. I remember that the ceiling of the cell was as if it was not there, it separated, while the head of the Starets seemingly went upwards. All this appeared to me quite clearly. After a minute, Batushka came up to me in my astonished state and leaning in front of me, blessed me saying; ‘Remember, this is what repentance can lead you to. Go." I left him swaying, and all through the night I wept over my senselessness and negligence. In the morning, we were given horses and we left. During his lifetime, I was unable to relate this to anyone. He forbade me once and for all of talking about such events, saying threateningly: "Otherwise you will lose my help and benevolence." People from all the ends of Russia converged on hut of the Starets—poor and rich, the intellectuals and the plain folk. He was visited by well-known public figures and authors: F.M. Dostoevski, V.C. Soloviev, K.N. Leontiev, L.N. Tolstoy, M.N. Pogodin, N.M. Strahov and others. He greeted all of them with equal affection and benevolence. He had a constant need to perform charitable acts, distributing his largess through his cell-attendants while he personally looked after the widows, orphans, the sick and the suffering. During the last years of his life, he blessed the establishment of a women’s monastery some 12 miles away at Shamordino. At that time, it was distinct from other women’s monasteries because it accepted mostly ill and destitute women. In the 90’s of the nineteenth century, the number of novitiates reached 500.

As fate would have it, the hour of death would find Fr. Ambrose precisely at this monastery. On June 2 1890, he left to spend summer at the monastery, as was his usual practice. At the end of summer, the Starets attempted to return to Optina, but due to illness, was unable to do so. After a year, the illness intensified and he lost his hearing and voice. His final sufferings began. As he himself acknowledged, they were of such severity, the likes of which he had never experienced. On the 8th of September, Hieromonk Joseph together with Frs.Theodore and Anatolius, administered Extreme unction to the Starets, and the next day, Holy Communion. On the same day, the Father Superior of Optina, Archimandrite Isaac arrived to visit the Starets. The following day, October 10, 1891, at 11.30, after three deep breaths and crossing himself three times with difficulty, the Starets expired.

The liturgy of the Departed with the order of Burial was performed at the Vedensk church in the Optina hermitage. Nearly 8000 people congregated for the funeral. On the 15th of Oct, the body of Starets Ambrose was interred on the southeasterly side of the church, next to his teacher Hieromonk Macarius. It is worthy to note that one year earlier, on that very same date of Oct 15th, Starets Ambrose instituted the feast day in honour of the miracle-working Mother of God icon " Ripening of the harvest," before which he used to utter his fervent prayers on many occasions.

Immediately after his death, miracles began to occur through which, as in life, the Starets healed, instructed and called for repentance.

The years passed, but the path to the Staret’s grave did not grow over with weeds. A period of massive upheavals arrived. The Optina Hermitage was looted and closed. The small chapel on the Staret’s grave was demolished. However, the memory of the great God-pleasing Starets was impossible to eradicate. The people marked the position of the chapel and continued to flow to their teacher.

In Nov 1987 the Optina Hermitage was returned to the Church and in June 1988, the local Council of the Russian Orthodox Church acclaimed Starets Ambrose into the ranks of the Saints. On the day of his death—23rd Oct. when his memory is commemorated—in the presence of many pilgrims, a triumphant hierarchical liturgy was performed in the Optina Hermitage. By this time, the remains of Blessed Ambrose were discovered. On that day, everybody involved in this celebration, experienced a pure and indefinable joy that the holy father loved to endow during his life to all those that came to him. One month later, on the anniversary of the monastery’s renaissance and by the grace of God, a miracle occurred: the icons of Mother of God of Kazan and Saint Ambrose, as well as his remains became odoriferous by exuding fragrant oils. His holy remains performed many other miracles, assuring us sinners that he has not stopped interceding for us before our Lord, Jesus Christ. Eternal praise be to Him! Amen.

Fr. Alexander.org

Translated by Seraphim Larin
http://www.pravoslavie.ru/english/42293.htm
Georgios Rossos
 

Archimandrite Nathaniel (Pospelov, 1920–2002)

Unread postby Georgios Rossos » Mon Nov 21, 2011 2:54 pm

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Archimandrite Nathaniel Pospelov and Archimandrite Ioann Krestiankin



Mean Old Fr. Nathaniel Православие.Ru, 14 сентября 2010 г.
http://www.pravoslavie.ru/english/39147.htm


The Sretensky Monastery publishing house is preparing a book by Archimandrite Tikhon (Shevkunov). It contains true stories that took place during different years.

The story presented below is about Archimandrite Nathaniel (Pospelov, 1920–2002), a long-time monk of the history-steeped Pskov-Caves Monastery, in the town of Pechory, Pskov Province.

* * *

Archimandrite Nathaniel (Pospelov)

If you were to ask in those days, "Who is the meanest man in Pechory?" you without a doubt would have heard only one name: the treasurer of the Pskov-Caves Monastery, Archimandrite Nathaniel. This would have been the unanimous choice of all the priests, novices, monks, and laity, as well as the communists from the Pechory KGB, and local dissidents. You see, Fr. Nathaniel was not just mean. He was very mean.

At that time, when I met him, he was a gaunt, elderly man with a sharp, penetrating gaze. He wore the same old washed-out ryassa with a ragged hem both winter and summer. He usually carried a canvas bag over his shoulder in which you could find anything in the world—dried bread, an old lady's donation, or a million rubles. Each of these items was extremely valuable in Fr. Nathaniel's eyes, for they had been sent to the monastery by the Lord God. Fr. Nathaniel dragged this entire inheritance around to his many hiding places in cells and storage rooms.

The monastery's finances were under Fr. Nathaniel's complete control. There was no lack of expenditures—every day up to one hundred monks and four hundred pilgrims would sit down to eat. The monastery needed continual repairs and new buildings; there were also the brothers' daily needs, aide to the poor, receptions for guests, gifts to officials… and much else. How Fr. Nathaniel managed all these financial problems by himself, no one knew. All of the monastery's bookkeeping work also lay on his shoulders. Furthermore, he organized all of the long, daily monastic Church services according to the typicon, was the monastery secretary, answered letters containing a wide range of questions, and finally, he shared the Father Superior's job of making what was, as a rule, rather unpleasant contact with official soviet agencies. All of these responsibilities, the mere quantity of which is enough to make a person gasp, Fr. Nathaniel fulfilled with such inspiration and scrupulousness that at times we even doubted that there could be anything more to him that an ecclesiastical bureaucrat.

Besides all this, Father Treasurer bore the responsibility of watching over us, the novices. Have no doubt that he fulfilled this job with characteristic meticulousness: he spied, investigated, eavesdropped, all to make sure that we did not do anything that was against the typicon, or that could harm the monastery. Although, I have to say honestly that it really was necessary to keep a strict eye upon the novices. We came to the monastery from the world as fairly serious good-for-nothings.

He had one other fantastic peculiarity: He would always show up at the very moment when we expected him the least. The monastery youth would occasionally shirk their obediences and make themselves comfortable somewhere under the eaves of the ancient walls for a rest, to have a talk, and bask in the sun. Suddenly, as if from underground, Fr. Nathaniel would pop up. His beard shivering, he would launch his reproach in that abrasive voice of his, so unbearable during those minutes that the novices would be ready to sink into the ground if only they could end the torture.

In his zeal, Fr. Nathaniel literally neither ate nor slept. He was not just an ascetic. No one, for example ever saw him drink tea—only plain water. Even at the main meal, he barely ate a fifth of what was given to him. Every evening without fail, he would come to dinner at the brothers' refectory; however, his exclusive aim in attending was to keep unequivocal order as he sat over his empty plate.

Nevertheless, his energy was amazing. We did not know when he slept. Even at night, we could see a light in his cell through the shutters. The old monks would say that when he was in his cell he was either praying, or counting the pile of rubles and coins that had been collected that day. All of this incalculable wealth had to be neatly bound into packets, and change had to be sorted into bags. When he had finished with this, he would begin writing instructions and explanations for tomorrow's services—no one was able to sort through all the particularities and complexities of the monastery typicon like Fr. Nathaniel.

But although the light in his cell was never switched off, we all knew perfectly well that this did not at all mean we could feel liberated from his observation even temporarily. No, throughout the night, at any moment, Fr. Nathaniel could appear here or there, making sure that no one was walking around the monastery—something which was strictly forbidden.

I remember one winter night; it was one brother's name day, and we had stayed until late in his cell. We were going back to our own cells when suddenly, five steps away from us, out of the darkness arose the figure of Fr. Nathaniel. We froze from fear. But in just a few moments, we understood with amazement that the treasurer did not see us this time. He was acting a little strangely. He could hardly move his legs and even reeled a bit, stooped under his bag. Then we saw him climb over the low fence of the front garden and lie down in the snow, right on the flowerbed.

”He's died!” the thought came to our heads.

We waited a little, and then holding our breath, carefully approached him. Fr. Nathaniel lay asleep on the snow. He simply slept. He was breathing evenly, with a light snore. Under his head was the bag, which he embraced with both arms.

We decided not to go anywhere until we had seen what would come of it; hiding from the lamp light, in the shadow of the chapel over the well, we began to wait. An hour later, we finally saw Fr. Nathaniel quickly and energetically arise from the flowerbed, shake off the snow, throw the sack over his shoulder, and set off on his way as if nothing at all had happened.

We didn't understand what was going on. Only later did the monks who had known the treasurer for a long time explain to us that Fr. Nathaniel was just very tired and wanted to sleep comfortably for bit. "Comfortably" meant lying down, because in his cell he only slept sitting. So that he might not luxuriate in a bed, he preferred to sleep in the snow.

As a matter of fact, everything about the Pechory treasurer's cell life was subject to mere conjecture. Mean Fr. Nathaniel never let anyone into his secret inner world. What could we say—he never even let anyone into his cell! Including the all-powerful Father Superior, although it seemed quite preposterous that there could be a place in the monastery which the Superior, Fr. Gabriel could not enter. Especially since Fr. Nathaniel's cell was located on the first floor of the house where Fr. Gabriel lived; in fact, right under Fr. Gabriel's own quarters. Of course, the head of the monastery could not possibly be at peace with such a state of affairs. So, one day, after a festal meal, Father Superior was in a marvelous mood and announced to Fr. Nathaniel that he was going right that minute to his cell to have a cup of tea.

Several of the brothers who were standing nearby at the moment understood then that something earth-shattering, something unimaginable to mortal man was about to happen. It would have been unforgivable to miss the opportunity to behold such an event. Thus, thanks to these witnesses, this history was recorded.

Father Superior triumphantly and inexorably moved along the monastery courtyard towards the cell of Fr. Nathaniel. Fr. Nathaniel, meanwhile, minced along behind him, mournfully trying to convince Father Superior to renounce his intention. He begged him to take up something soul-saving and profitable, and not idle strolls to old, absolutely uninteresting little rooms. He eloquently described to him how disorderly his cell was, how he had not tidied it for twenty-six years, and the air in it was unbearably musty… Finally, in a state of total despair, Fr. Nathaniel's speech nearly turned to threats. He was thinking quite aloud that that under no circumstances should the Father Superior's precious life be subjected to the danger which unfinished mounds of work within the treasurer's cell might involve.

”Well, that's enough, Father Treasurer!” the Father Superior finally interrupted him with annoyance, standing before the door of his cell. ”Open up and show me what you have in there!”

It was obvious that regardless of his angry tone of voice, Father Superior was tormented by true curiosity.

Finally admitting his inescapable situation, Fr. Nathaniel suddenly even cheered up, and sportingly reciting the monastic phrase, ”Bless, Father Superior!” he rattled his keys and opened the cherished door that for four decades had been opened only wide enough to admit the wizened Fr. Nathaniel…

Beyond the thrown-open door yawned total, impenetrable darkness: the windows of this mysterious cell were shuttered closed both day and night. Fr. Nathaniel himself slipped first into this black darkness, then immediately disappeared into nowhere. In any case, there was no sound coming from the cell.

Father Superior followed him cautiously over the threshold, and grunting uncertainly, said in his deep voice, ”Why is it so dark in here? Is there any electricity? Where do I turn it on?”

”To your right, Father Superior!” came the treasurer's trembling voice from out of the impenetrable darkness. ”Just lift the switch!”

The next moment Fr. Gabriel's heart-rending cry resounded, and some unseen power carried him out of the darkness of the treasurer's cell into the monastery corridor. Fr. Nathaniel leapt out after him into the light. Within a split second, he had closed his door and locked it thrice, and was running after the shaken Superior. Gasping, the treasurer began blowing the dust from the Father Superiors's ryassa and straightening it out, excitedly bewailing, ”What bad luck, Lord have mercy! That switch… one has to get used to it. It broke in 1961, on the Protection of the Mother of God, right on the day that they removed Khruschev from office. A sign! In the morning, the switch fell off, and in the evening, they removed Nikita! I haven't replaced the switch since. And no electricians, no, no—I fixed it myself: two wires stick out of the wall. You join them and the light goes on, pull them apart and it goes out. But it's true, you have to get used to it! But not all at once, not all at once!... So, Father Superior, you are welcome; I'll just open the door again, and let us go in peace! Now you know how to use my light switch. And there's much more of interest in there!”

But by the end of this whacky speech, Father Superior had left without a trace.

However, despite all of this, Fr. Nathaniel really was an example of obedience; he wrote long odes in honor of Father Superior, and in honor of the Pskov-Caves Monastery. He also composed morally edifying sermons in verse, five pages long.

* * *

The Pskov-Caves Monastery

Fr. Nathaniel's meanness extended also to the mighty Soviet state, especially when it all too unceremoniously intruded upon monastery life. They say that it was Fr. Nathaniel who had so cleverly advised the famous Archimandrite Alypy of Pechory, when the latter was in a state of perplexity over the pressure and crudeness of the authorites.

It happened in the late 1960's. As everyone knew, all citizens of the Soviet Union were supposed to participate in the elections. They brought a ballot box to the monastery and placed it in the refectory, where the brothers dropped their votes, grumbling, after the mid-day meal, under the Superior's observation—rendering to Caesar that which is Caesar's.

Well, somehow the first secretary of the Pskov regional committee of the Communist Party found out that some ignorant monks had been allowed the ridiculous privilege of voting for the invincible block of communists and nonpartisans in their very own historically outdated monastery, and not at the polling station. The first secretary of the Pskov regional committee of the Communist Party was full of disdain, and castigated his inferiors mercilessly for such condescension toward a non-laboring element. He then commanded speedily that henceforth and forevermore, the black-robes shall come to vote for the Supreme Soviet of the USSR like all other soviet people—at their local polling station, according to their place of residence!

It was then that Fr. Nathaniel whispered in the ear of the Father Superior that extraordinarily subtle advice.

On election day (and this was on a Sunday), after the festal Liturgy, the monks solemnly processed through the monastery gates.

Two by two, in an extensive line, heartily singing the troparia, the monks processed through the entire town to the polling station. Heavy religious banners furled over their heads, crosses and ancient icons were born at the fore, in the usual ecclesiastical manner. But that was not all. Just as before any important work, the clergy began by serving a moleben, right there in the polling hall. The mortally frightened bureaucrats tried to protest, but Fr. Alipy sternly cut them off, ordering them not to obstruct citizens in the fulfillment of their constitutional duty as their custom dictates. After casting their ballots, the brothers then returned to the monastery in the same solemn procession.

There is no need to explain how the ballot box for the next election was waiting again from early morning for the monks in their refectory.

At the same time, Fr. Nathaniel watched us sternly; he always nipped off any vocal expression of opposition to the government, and particularly any attempts to become a dissident. At first, this seemed almost disgraceful to us. We thought that the treasurer was simply cowing before the authorities. Later, however, we eventually learned that more than once and more than twice, Fr. Nathaniel had run into provocateurs or agents who had been dressed as monks and sent to the monastery. But even knowing that we were sincere, Fr. Nathaniel always cut off any of the freethinking that was so dear to us. He did it not only to protect the monastery. He was also protecting us from our thoughtless arrogance and youthful hotheadedness, inspired by the simplest pride. He did not place much value on words, even the most heroic, and he knew all about the soviet regime and everything that had happened in the country—unlike us, who had learned most of what we knew by hearsay and from books.

It was also because Fr. Nathaniel had a very sober and first-hand relationship with the soviet authorities: his father, Priest Nikolai Pospelov, was shot for his faith in 1937. Having been a soldier throughout the entire war [World War II], Fr. Nathaniel became a novice under the great Father Superior, Archimandrite Alipy, and a spiritual son of the holy elder and wonder-worker of Pechory, Hieroschemamonk Simeon. Both of these men, seeing in Fr. Nathaniel a man of crystal-pure honesty and extraordinarily lively mind, made him the treasurer and secretary of the monastery during the onerous years of Kruschev's persecutions against the Church, and entrusted him with the monasteries' deepest secrets.

Here is more about the soviet regime. One summer night, I had the obedience of guarding the area in front of the Dormition Church. The stars twinkled feebly in the northern sky. Quiet, calm. The hours struck thrice, resonantly on the tower… Suddenly I felt that some one had appeared behind my back. I turned around, frightened. It was Fr. Nathaniel. He stood next to me and gazed at the starry sky. Then, he asked me thoughtfully, ”Giorgy, what do you think about the main principle of communism?”

The Pskov-Caves Monastery. The Dormition square. 1983. Three o'clock in the morning. Stars…

Not expecting an answer from me, Fr. Nathaniel continued just as thoughtfully, ”The main principle of communism is: ‘From everyone according to his ability, to everyone according to his need.' But after all, ‘ability,' ‘need'—it is, of course… some sort of commission is supposed to determine it? And what commission?... Most likely a ‘troika'![1] So, they call me in and say, ‘Well, Nathaniel, what are your abilities? You can saw twenty cubic meters of wood per day! And what are your needs? A bowl of pea soup!'… There it is—the whole main principle…”

Although Fr. Nathaniel always carefully emphasized that he is no more than a pedantic administrator and a dry typicon specialist, even we novices began to suspect after a while that he simply hid his spiritual gifts very carefully, as did all the true monks in the monastery. Father Treasurer was not the official monastery confessor. Only a few Pechory old-timers would come to him from the town for confession; someone else came to him from somewhere far away. He would not receive anyone else in the capacity of a spiritual father, citing his incapability to do so.

But one day, for a brief moment, he revealed the hidden part of his soul, although he then immediately hid himself behind his usual sternness and peevishness. Once I had done a wrong on my obedience. It seems I had performed my task very carelessly. For this, the Superior had me shovel snow on the Dormition square for three days in a row. I was deeply hurt at the time, and snow was falling and falling, so that by the third day I was simply tired, barely able to move my feet. I felt so sorry for myself, was so upset with the whole world, that I was seriously making plans for revenge. But what revenge can a novice take against his Superior? The two are operating on completely difference scales. Nevertheless, shoveling away with my last strength, I was cherishing in my heart the following scenario: When the Superior passes by me at the mid-day meal in the refectory, he will most likely ask me spitefully, ”Well, how are you doing, Georgy?” I will reply, happy and carefree, as if these three days of dire slavery had not happened, ”Better than everyone, Father Superior! By your holy prayers!” Then he'll understand that he can't break me so easily!

The scene of this horrific revenge so warmed my heart that even in the midst of an ever-escalating snowfall I felt significantly more cheerful. When Fr. Nathaniel passed by, I even smiled at him as I went to receive his blessing. In response, he also grinned amiably and made the sign of the cross over me. I bent to kiss his hand, when I suddenly heard his grating voice:

”So, you say, ‘Better than everyone, Father Superior! By your holy prayers!'?”

I froze in that bent position, as if I had slipped a disk. When I finally resolved to lift my eyes to the elder, he was looking at me with unguarded spite. But when he saw my horror, he said to me with authentic kindness, ”Take care, Georgy, insolence has never led anyone to any good!”

Flinging his sack of millions, or perhaps of dried bread, over his shoulders, he trudged off in the crunching snow towards the brothers' quarters. I was left with my mouth hanging open, just watching how the sole of his boot flopped at every step.

Well, a real Scrooge! Only saintly.

As one venerable St. Petersburg Archpriest said, ”One year of the Pskov-Caves Monastery is like fifty years of Theological Academy.” How we assimilated these lessons is another matter… But that is admittedly another, very bitter question.

By the way, Fr. Nathaniel really was a Scrooge—no joke. Besides trembling over every monastery kopek, he wildly leapt to shut off every idly burning light bulb, and economized on water, gas, and anything else that could be conserved or squeezed.

He was also strictly vigilant over the centuries-old monastery order and ancient monastic rules. For example, he could not abide any of the brothers leaving for a vacation. Although everyone who needed a medical leave was granted it, Fr. Nathaniel never accepted or endured this. Needless to say, he himself never took a leave throughout his fifty years in the monastery. The Superior, Fr. Gabriel, also never took a vacation and frowned upon anyone who would come to him with a request for leave.

I remember once how the Superior did bless one hieromonk to take a summer leave. The monk received a blessing; however, he was supposed to get his travel money from the treasurer.

I was doing guard duty on the Dormition square and witnessed this scene: It began with the hieromonk who wanted the vacation knocking long and vainly on the cell door of Fr. Nathaniel. Already understanding what the question would be, the Treasurer hid in his cell and would not open the door. Then the hieromonk decided to take Fr. Nathaniel by stealth. He sat down on the bench a small distance away and began to wait. About four hours later, Fr. Nathaniel cautiously opened his door, looked around, and went out to the square. The vacationer then caught him up with a written blessing from the Father Superior for the treasurer to give him travel money.

When he saw the paper, Fr. Nathaniel froze, absolutely stricken, and then fell on the ground with a shriek, throwing his hands and feet in the air (at this he revealed his shabby boots and faded blue long johns from under his cassock), and shouted with all his might:

”Help! I'm being robbed!!! Give them money, they say! They want to take a vacation! They're tired of the monastery! They're tired of the Mother of God! Robbers! Help!!!”

The poor hieromonk even sat down from horror. The nonplussed foreign tourists who were on the square stood with their mouths hanging open. Clasping his head in his hands, the hieromonk ran headlong to his cell. Meanwhile, the Superior was watching the whole scene from his balcony with great glee.

Seeing that the danger was over, Fr. Nathaniel stood up perfectly calmly, shook the dust from his clothes and went about his business.

It was our particular joy to have the obedience of helping Fr. Nathaniel conduct tours of the monastery. As a rule, he was entrusted with leading especially important persons. The story of President Yeltsin and heads of state being acquainted with the qualities of the holy caves took place, of course, with Fr. Nathaniel's participation. Our obedience included no more than opening and closing the heavy church doors for the visitors. The rest of the time, we listened attentively to Fr. Nathaniel. And this truly was something worth hearing. Fr. Nathaniel was the continuation of the tradition of his teacher, the great Abbot, Archimandrite Alipy, who had preserved the monastery and faith in God during the worst periods of Khruschev's persecutions. Fr. Alipy's gift of wise and at times unbending words passed on to Fr. Nathaniel.

During those atheistic years, soviet workers who came to the monastery expected to find any sort of reactionary, sly money-grubber, ignorant and not quite human; what they did not expect was what they actually saw—slightly peculiar but very interesting, educated and clever, extraordinarily brave and inwardly free people who knew things that the guests had never even guessed. After but a few minutes it would be clear to them that they had never met anyone like these monks in their whole lives.

It was 1986, and the party leaders of Pskov took a highly placed official from the Railroad Ministry to the monastery. He turned out to be a surprisingly calm and well-mannered person: he did not ask idiotic questions like, say, in which building do the monks' wives live, or inquire about Gagarin's flight into space, and why he didn't see God. But in the end, after two hours of his time with Fr. Nathaniel, the official who was stunned by his new acquaintance couldn't help but say:

”Listen, I am just amazed by our conversation! I have never met such an interesting and unusual person in my whole life! But allow me to ask—how, with a mind like yours, can you believe in… Well, you yourself understand, in what! After all, science reveals newer and newer horizons to mankind. And there is no God there! He is, forgive me, simply not necessary. This year the comet Galileo is approaching the earth from the depths of the universe. The scientists, can you imagine, have precisely calculated its entire route! And its velocity! And trajectory! Forgive me, but no idea of God is needed for this!"

”A comet, you say? Galileo?” Fr. Nathaniel shook his beard. ”That means, since they calculated the comet, then the Lord God is unnecessary? Hmm, yes, I see!... Well, just imagine that I was set upon a hill near the railroad track and given a piece of paper and pencil. In a week, I could tell you exactly when and in what direction the trains will travel. But does that mean that that there are no conductors, dispatchers, or engineers?... Or Railway ministers? After all, that's not what it means, is it? Commanders are needed everywhere!”

Not all such conversations ended peacefully, however. One day a tour group came to the monastery, the identities of whom were revealed to us in a whisper: children of members of the Central Committee of the Communist Party. I don't know if this was really the case, but the young people turned out to be quite ill mannered. They were those ”golden teenagers” of the mid-eighties who I well knew. The young people giggled, pointed at the monks, and asked the most idiotic questions. But there was nothing to be done, and Fr. Nathaniel took them on the tour of the monastery.

The tour began with the caves, at the beginning of which is a tiny cell with one small window. In this cell, early in the nineteenth century, the recluse Hieroschemamonk Lazarus labored ascetically. Here he was also buried. His heavy cross and chains hang over his grave slab.

”Here, in this cell, without leaving for twenty years, Hieroschemamonk Lazarus labored in asceticism,” Fr. Nathaniel began his tour. ”I will now tell you about this amazing ascetic.”

”But where did your Lazarus go to the bathroom?” loudly inquired one of the young tourists. His companions simply rolled with laughter.

Fr. Nathaniel waited patiently until they calmed down; then, unruffled, he said, ”Where did he go to the bathroom? Alright, I'll show you now!”

He took several puzzled tourists out of the caves and led them through the entire monastery to a service area, tucked away from view. Here on the outskirts was nestled an old outhouse. Arranging the tourists a semi-circle in front of this institution, as they usually do in front of an important museum piece, Fr. Nathaniel solemnly made a gesture in its direction and pronounced, ”Here, Hieroschemamonk Lazarus went to the bathroom! And now, stand here and look!”

Then, turning his back to the perplexed young people, he left them alone.

When they came to themselves, the group leaders searched for the Father Superior and expressed their displeasure with what had happened, to which the Superior replied, ”Archimandrite Nathaniel reported your interest to me. That is precisely what he showed you. We can't help you with anything else!”

You have to take into consideration that this was the year 1984. Things were not so simple back then. Serious problems could have arisen. But the abbots of the Pskov-Caves Monastery were traditionally strong men.

* * *



Mean Fr. Nathaniel died in an unusually quiet and humble way. When the doctors offered to insert a pacemaker, he begged the Father Superior not to do it.

”Fathers, imagine,” he said, ”my soul wants to depart to God, and some little electric gadget forcefully stuffs it back into the body! Let my soul depart in its own time!”

I had the good fortune to have visited Fr. Nathaniel not long before his repose, and I was amazed at his endless kindness and love. Instead of preserving what remained of his life's strength, this unbelievable church miser who economized on everything else, gave his all to a person the Lord had sent to him for no more than a few minutes. In fact, this is what he had done all his life—only back then, we did not understand it.

Translated by Nun Cornelia
Georgios Rossos
 

Re: Archimandrite Nathaniel (Pospelov, 1920–2002)

Unread postby Georgios Rossos » Mon Nov 21, 2011 2:57 pm

Georgios Rossos
 

Re: Άγιος Velimirovich Nikolaj

Unread postby Matina » Mon Feb 06, 2012 12:47 pm

Προσευχή του Αγίου Επισκόπου Νικολάου Βελιμίροβιτς


Ευλόγησε τους εχθρούς μου, ω Κύριε!

Ευλόγησε τους εχθρούς μου, ω Κύριε! Ακόμη και εγώ τους ευλογώ και δεν τους καταριέμαι.

Οι εχθροί με έχουν οδηγήσει μέσα στην αγκάλη Σου περισσότερο, από ό,τι οι φίλοι μου. Οι φίλοι με έχουν προσδέσει στην γη, ενώ οι εχθροί με έχουν λύσει από την γη και έχουν συντρίψει όλες τις φιλοδοξίες μου στον κόσμο.

Οι εχθροί με αποξένωσαν από τις εγκόσμιες πραγματικότητες και με έκαναν έναν ξένο και άσχετο κάτοικο του κόσμου. Όπως ακριβώς ένα κυνηγημένο ζώο βρίσκει ασφαλέστερο καταφύγιο από ένα μη κυνηγημένο, έτσι και εγώ, καταδιωγμένος από τους εχθρούς, έχω εύρει το ασφαλέστερο καταφύγιο, προφυλασσόμενος υπό το σκήνωμά Σου, όπου ούτε φίλοι ούτε εχθροί μπορούν να απωλέσουν την ψυχή μου.

Ευλόγησε τους εχθρούς μου, ω Κύριε! Ακόμη και εγώ τους ευλογώ και δεν τους καταριέμαι.

Αυτοί μάλλον, παρά εγώ, έχουν ομολογήσει τις αμαρτίες μου ενώπιον του κόσμου.

Αυτοί με έχουν μαστιγώσει, κάθε φορά που εγώ είχα διστάσει να μαστιγωθώ.

Με έχουν βασανίσει, κάθε φορά που εγώ είχα προσπαθήσει να αποφύγω τα βάσανα.

Αυτοί με έχουν επιπλήξει, κάθε φορά που εγώ είχα κολακεύσει τον εαυτό μου.

Αυτοί με έχουν κτυπήσει, κάθε φορά που εγώ είχα παραφουσκώσει με αλαζονεία.

Ευλόγησε τους εχθρούς μου, ω Κύριε! Ακόμη και εγώ τους ευλογώ και δεν τους καταριέμαι.

Κάθε φορά που είχα κάνει τον εαυτό μου σοφό, αυτοί με αποκάλεσαν ανόητο.

Κάθε φορά που είχα κάνει τον εαυτό μου δυνατό, αυτοί με περιγέλασαν σαν να ήμουν νάνος.

Κάθε φορά που θέλησα να καθοδηγήσω άλλους, αυτοί με έσπρωξαν στο περιθώριο.

Κάθε φορά που έσπευδα να πλουτίσω, αυτοί με εμπόδισαν με σιδηρά χείρα.

Κάθε φορά που είχα σκεφθεί ότι θα κοιμόμουν ειρηνικά, αυτοί με ξύπνησαν από τον ύπνο.

Κάθε φορά που προσπάθησα να κτίσω σπίτι για μία μακρά και ήρεμη ζωή, αυτοί το κατεδάφισαν και με έβγαλαν έξω.

Στ' αλήθεια, οι εχθροί με έχουν αποσυνδέσει από τον κόσμο και άπλωσαν τα χέρια μου στο κράσπεδο του ιματίου Σου.

Ευλόγησε τους εχθρούς μου, ω Κύριε! Ακόμη και εγώ τους ευλογώ και δεν τους καταριέμαι.

Ευλόγησέ τους και πλήθυνέ τους! Πλήθυνέ τους και κάνε τους ακόμη πιο σκληρούς εναντίον μου!

Ώστε η καταφυγή μου σε Σένα να μην έχει επιστροφή.
ώστε κάθε ελπίδα μου στους ανθρώπους να διαλυθεί ως ιστός αράχνης.
ώστε απόλυτη γαλήνη να αρχίσει να βασιλεύει στην ψυχή μου.
ώστε η καρδιά μου να γίνει ο τάφος των δύο κακών διδύμων μου αδελφών: της αλαζονείας και του θυμού. ώστε να μπορέσω να αποθηκεύσω όλους τους θησαυρούς μου εν ουρανοίς.

α! ώστε να μπορέσω για πάντα να ελευθερωθώ από την αυταπάτη, η οποία με περιέπλεξε στο θανατηφόρο δίχτυ της απατηλής ζωής.

Οι εχθροί με δίδαξαν να μάθω -αυτό που δύσκολα μαθαίνει κανείς- ότι ο άνθρωπος δεν έχει εχθρούς στον κόσμο, εκτός από τον εαυτό του!...

Μισεί κάποιος τους εχθρούς του μόνον όταν αποτυγχάνει να αναγνωρίσει ότι δεν είναι εχθροί, αλλά σκληροί και άσπλαχνοι φίλοι!...

Είναι πράγματι δύσκολο για μένα να πω ποιος μου έκανε περισσότερο καλό και ποιος μου έκανε περισσότερο κακό στον κόσμο: οι εχθροί ή οι φίλοι.

Γι' αυτό, ευλόγησε, ω Κύριε, και τους φίλους μου και τους εχθρούς μου...

Εκδόσεις "Ορθόδοξος Κυψέλη"
O Κύριός μου κι ο Θεός μου!
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Matina
 
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Re: Άγιος Velimirovich Nikolaj

Unread postby Matina » Tue Feb 07, 2012 2:54 pm

Γιατί οι άδικοι προοδεύουν; (Αγίου Νικολάου Βελιμίροβιτς)



Μέχρι πότε προοδεύουν; Και τί συμβαίνει στο τέλος σ΄ αυτούς και στους απογόνους τους; Αναρωτήθηκες ποτέ; Να μη σκοντάφτουν οι σκέψεις σου όταν βλέπεις ότι κάποιος καυχιέται με τη δύναμη και ξεχνά το Δωρητή της δύναμης. Θυμήσου πως ο υπερήφανος και καυχόμενος Γολιάθ σκοτώθηκε από τη σφεντόνα ενός αγοριού, του Δαβίδ. Να μη συγχύζεται η καρδιά σου όταν βλέπεις πως κάποιος πλουτίζει με άδικο τρόπο.
Θα τρώει και δεν θα χορταίνει, θα αρπάζει και δεν θα του φτάνουν.

Θυμήσου τους πλούσιους πολίτες στα Σόδομα, πως σε μία στιγμή ρίχτηκε πάνω τους φωτιά και έγιναν στάχτη μ’ όλο τους τον πλούτο. Εσύ είσαι χριστιανός, και ο χριστιανός παρατηρεί τα γεγονότα στην άλλη γραμμή, στην ολότητα, και όχι επί μέρους. Την πρόοδο του αδίκου ο χριστιανός δεν εκτιμά σαν κάποιο τετελεσμένο γεγονός αλλά περιμένει να δει τι ακολουθεί. Αυτός ξέρει πως ο άδικος δεν προοδεύει ούτε με τη δική του δύναμη ούτε με το δικό του μυαλό αλλά μόνο επειδή ο Θεός του επιτρέπει να προοδεύει, μπας και κάποια στιγμή θυμηθεί το Θεό.

Αφού είναι ανείπωτα ελεήμων ο Θεός μας, και επιτρέπει στους αδίκους εκείνο που αυτοί επιθυμούν, μπας και κάποια στιγμή σκεφθούν, ότι αυτό είναι από το Θεό και ντραπούν για την αδικία τους και διορθωθούν. Στο Θεό είναι αγαπητοί οι μετανοούντες είναι πολύ αγαπητοί σ’ Αυτόν όσοι μετανοούν ταπεινά για τις άδικες πράξεις τους.

Ο Δημιουργός δεν θέλει πάντα να τιμωρήσει αμέσως μόλις κάποιος ξεκινήσει σε λάθος δρόμο. Εκείνος περιμένει τον πλανημένο να γυρίσει μόνος του στον σωστό δρόμο. Εκείνος βλέπει και σιωπά. Περιμένει και δεν αργεί. Είναι θαυμαστός στη σοφία, πανθαύμαστος στο έλεός Του. Γι’ αυτό ο προορατικός Ψαλμωδός ενθουσιασμένα λέει στον Κύριο: «Τα κρίματά σου ωσεί άβυσσος πολλή» (Ψαλμ. 35,7). Ποιός θα ερευνήσει όλο το βάθος της πρόνοιας του Θεού;

Οι ανόητοι θυμώνουν επειδή ο Θεός δεν διοικεί τον κόσμο κατά τη δική τους λογική, και οι λογικοί κοπιάζουν ασταμάτητα να μπουν στη λογική του Θεού.Είναι δύσκολο καμιά φορά και στο λογικότατο να κατανοήσει το γιατί σ’ έναν άνθρωπο συμβαίνει έτσι, ενώ στον άλλον αλλιώς• γιατί ο νέος που επιθυμεί τη ζωή πεθαίνει, ενώ ο γέρος που επιθυμεί τον θάνατο ζει – γιατί ο ευσεβής βασανίζεται, ενώ ο άθεος καλοπερνά. Και οι αγιότατες ψυχές καμιά φορά βρίσκονται σε αμηχανία μπροστά στο αίνιγμα των γεγονότων. Στην Ιερά παράδοση υπάρχει γραμμένη η εξής περίπτωση: πέθανε κάποιος αμαρτωλός πλούσιος, του οποίου οι αμαρτίες ήταν γνωστές σε όλους, και ο ενταφιασμός του ήταν πανηγυρικός, με τον επίσκοπο και πολλούς Ιερείς. Λίγο μετά απ’ αυτό επιτέθηκε ύαινα σ’ έναν ασκητή στην έρημο και τον κατασπάραξε.

Κάποιος μοναχός, ο όποιος είχε δει εκείνη την πανηγυρική νεκρώσιμη πομπή του αμαρτωλού και τα ματωμένα υπολείμματα του δίκαιου, στη σύγχυση του άρχισε να κλαίει και φώναξε: «Κύριε, πώς έγινε αυτό και γιατί; Πώς εκείνος ο αμαρτωλός είχε και απαλή ζωή και απαλό θάνατο, ενώ αυτός ο δίκαιος πικρή ζωή και πικρό θάνατο;».
Σ’ αυτό του εμφανίστηκε άγγελος του Θεού και εξήγησε: «Εκείνος ο κακός πλούσιος είχε στη ζωή του μόνο μία καλή πράξη, ενώ αυτός ο ασκητής είχε στη ζωή του μόνο μία πιο βαριά αμαρτία. Με την εορταστική και τιμητική νεκρώσιμη πομπή ο Ύψιστος ήθελε στον κακό πλούσιο να ξεπληρώσει εκείνο το καλό έργο, ώστε να μην περιμένει τίποτα άλλο σ’ εκείνον τον κόσμο, ενώ με τον φρικτό θάνατο του ασκητή ήθελε να τον απαλλάξει από εκείνη τη μία αμαρτία, ώστε να του δώσει πλήρες βραβείο στους ουρανούς».

Γι’ αυτό εσύ να σκέπτεσαι περί των κρίσεων του Θεού και τοποθέτησε όλη την ελπίδα στον Δημιουργό σου. «Μη φθονείς την ευτυχία εκείνων που σκέφτονται το πονηρό και μη ζηλεύεις εκείνους που κάνουν το κακό» (Ψαλμ. 36,1). Έτσι γράφει ο δίκαιος βασιλιάς Δαβίδ, τον οποίον για πολύ καιρό βασάνιζε εκείνο που βασανίζει και σένα, ώσπου ο Κύριος του αποκάλυψε το λόγο για να καταλάβει. Ο ίδιος λέει και αυτή την παρήγορη εμπειρία του: «Ήμουν νέος και τώρα γέρασα και δεν είδα δίκαιο να εγκαταλείπεται από το Θεό, ούτε τα παιδιά του να ζητιανεύουν ψωμί» (Ψαλμ. 36,25). Διάβαζε συχνά το Ψαλτήρι, και θα καταλάβεις και θα παρηγορηθείς.
Ειρήνη και η ευλογία από τον Κύριο

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