Drunkards with Father John of Kronstadt

- Father! I have always, and now especially persistently, advocated against drunkenness and establishments that get people drunk. But there are people who are indignant at this, they say that I am biased, that I am exaggerating, that drunkenness... The shepherd’s eyes sparkled, he took my hand and said with inspiration: - Write, my dear, write! Write more, write more! Don't listen to anyone, don't look at anyone! I bless you for this! You will receive merit from the Lord the more you write! There is no evil so great and disastrous, there is no enemy as powerful as public drunkenness. Your editor is doing well for rebelling against this enemy of the Church, morality, family and people, young and old. Oh, you know, I saw a kind, good family man who got drunk and rushed at his wife with a knife, almost stabbed her, and the wife is so meek and kind. Only wine, one wine turned this family man into a beast! And how many similar examples! Drunkenness is not only obscenity, it gives rise to a host of other vices and crimes; it corrupts entire villages, villages, cities! In such expressions the venerable shepherd explained his view on drunkenness. But I’ll tell you in order about my visit to Kronstadt now that Father John has returned from a long two-month journey. I went to Kronstadt on Friday, July 28... Even at the Baltic Road station, and then on the ship, all I could hear was the joyful: “I’m back!” In this “back!” everything has been said... Crowds of the sick, the poor, the wretched, the dejected, crushed by grief and need, pass this exclamation from mouth to mouth, and it causes a bright glimmer on their gloomy faces. The one on whom they all have hope has returned, who, according to their deep faith, alone can help their grief, ease their suffering, and improve their situation. Why him and not someone else? And why him? Because for everyone he is his neighbor, kind, sympathetic and connected with them by love! No one but him cares about them all! No one even wants to listen to their grief, misfortune, despair. It's boring, uninteresting and aimless. And Father John belongs to them, he loves them like his own father, listens carefully, wants to know all the details and hurries to help with prayer, advice, money, everything he can, with all his heart. He was gone for two whole months. For two months, thousands of unfortunate people considered themselves orphans and helpless. Father promised to travel only for six weeks, but he traveled for exactly two months. Everywhere he was detained, asked to stay an extra day, and he gave in, and time passed. “Tell me, father,” I asked, “what impressions did you get from your long trip?” – It’s hard to tell you this in a few words. The impression is that the Russian people are strong in unity, which rests on the Orthodox faith. And this power is great! I, a humble altar server, by the will of God became an exponent of this unity. The entire people, the population of entire cities and villages, greeted me as one person. And I greeted him with love, like family, like an old acquaintance, although I visited some places for the first time. It was especially touching that even children ran out to meet me in droves; they ran into the race with joyful faces, as if they were meeting their loved one. Some kind of religious upsurge was felt, and this is a joyful, good phenomenon. – Father, there is no corner in Russia where your name is not known and popular. The people feel your fatherly love, and it is this that unites them. – Yes, I love everyone as one and pray for everyone together. Yesterday morning, after the morning liturgy in the “House of Diligence,” Father John visited those who were waiting for him in the hospice houses. How many tears and grief have poured out here! And what various needs and concerns! Many people sought a meeting with the priest in order to ask for financial help. Before my eyes from. John distributed 3-5 rubles. (sometimes more) at least 100-150 rubles. Obviously, the needs “accumulated” during the priest’s absence. And they asked so convincingly! One person’s loved one dies, another has lost his job, the third is sick himself, etc. With the last ship from. John left for St. Petersburg. And here the priest’s special cabin was besieged by a crowd, and the same story was repeated: half asked for blessings, and the others for benefits. And again the priest handed out credit cards. Let's see how much the venerable Kronstadt shepherd has to help victims of drunkenness, and what a stubborn struggle he wages. John with drunkenness in general. During my stay in Kronstadt, I managed, both personally from the revered shepherd and from the close people around him, to receive a lot of interesting material and several heart-stopping stories, which I will share with readers. Father John constantly has at least 300-400 guests in Kronstadt who come specially to him with their needs and sorrows from different parts of Russia, not excluding distant Siberia, the Caucasus and other outskirts. There are especially many Muscovites, Kharkov residents and, of course, St. Petersburg residents. The number of guests does not include hundreds, not to say thousands, of beggars and poor people waiting on all corners and crossroads for “dear father” to ask him for alms. The “guests” who flood Kronstadt are more or less wealthy people and occupy rooms in hospice houses (“House of Diligence”, the former Bykov and up to thirty private apartments). Here they are waiting for a visit from Father John, asking for a separate prayer service and audience. In private “apartments for pilgrims”, guests willingly pay various fees just to get a date for which they traveled from afar and on which almost their entire future depends... Out of ten, nine were dejected by some kind of illness, and the tenth came with an expression of gratitude for prayerful help or simply with an expression of respect and veneration. I looked more closely at the first ones. What kind of grief do they have?1 I will not be mistaken if I say that a good half are victims of drunkenness, that is, victims in the form of ruin, illness, suffering, or victims of touching a close drunkard, for example, the wives and children of drunkards, the parents of sons who carouse, etc. On all these unfortunates one can observe how great and varied the consequences of drunkenness are! An idiot child ends up with a father who drinks heavily; a chronically ill child, it turns out, was killed by a drunken nanny; a young drunkard turns out to be the son of a drunkard father who brutally beat his children when he was drunk... A consumptive mother is a victim of her husband’s drunken orgies; the relaxed “25-year-old” old man is the hero of reckless revelry; “beggar-millionaire” is the most common type of spendthrift and reveler, who spent his inheritance on liqueurs, champagne and carousing companions... God, how many such victims are there and how touching their plight! I will try, as briefly as possible, to tell the story of the fall of several drunkards and then their gradual revival to a new life through the prayers, advice and instructions of the Kronstadt shepherd. These stories are not only instructive and edifying, but they characterize the current situation in our drinking trade, which is based on the most immoral principles and leads thousands of people to certain death. “Look,” says one of the members of Andreev’s guardianship, “at this ragamuffin in rags, with a wasted, exhausted, swollen and sickly pale face.” Only 8 years ago he was a merchant of the 1st guild, had houses, horses, and a luxurious apartment. Can you believe this? - But what happened to him? - Nothing more than drunk. I drank myself to death, thanks to the situation I found myself in. There's nothing you can do about it. – Now he came to Father John. Father takes part in it, prays with him; Apparently he is feeling better now. This is his second week without drinking and he has regained consciousness. And what was he doing?! – Tell me more about his past and introduce me to him. We approached the ragamuffin. He looked at me in fear and immediately somehow shrank and retreated into himself; Apparently, he felt very awkward and embarrassed. - Do you know me? – he asked, looking down. - No, I’m seeing it for the first time. And what? – I don’t want to meet those who knew me before, before, when I... “Ivan Petrovich B-v,” my interlocutor introduced me to the ragamuffin. “What kind of ‘Ivan Petrovich’ is he, just a rogue B‒v,” he whispered. “You are not the first and you are not the last,” the member of the guardianship told him; - you are happier than others who have not left their terrible path. And you are now on the road to a holy future. We moved to a separate room “At home from. John" and ordered tea to be served. “Tell us your past,” I turned to B‒v: “it’s edifying to listen to those who have just embarked on your path.” - Okay... I don’t have a secret. Listen. “I received a house and fifteen hundred thousand in capital from my father. In addition, they gave me three hundred thousand for my wife. It seems that the fortune is large, and with such funds I could not only live my life comfortably, provide for my family, but also benefit the fatherland as a citizen, entrepreneur, industrialist, manufacturer, capitalist... After all, I am an educated person, I was in the service. B‒v thought about it. Large folds formed on his forehead, and tears appeared in his eyes. - Damn all these liqueurs, rederers and clicquots! Oh oh! With what joy would I now agree to draw out all my veins, give up all my blood drop by drop, sacrifice my life, just to return this past, to return not so much money as my soaked conscience, honor, morality, strength, vigor of body and spirit! Now! Why now?! Because here in Kronstadt, in this secluded, quiet monastery of the Kronstadt shepherd, my spiritual eyes were opened. B-v clenched his teeth, and his face reflected unbearable torment, that mental pain in comparison with which physical suffering seems trivial. - So I’ll tell you... Donon, Contan, Pivato and “Bear” are witnesses that I paid 3 rubles. per piece of cigars and 2 ½ rubles. for a glass of old wine. They are witnesses that I gave, sometimes for several days in a row, 400-600 rubles. for lunch or dinner “for two”. But this is not enough; I rewarded my companions so drunkenly that I had to pay with bills, although I never kept less than 2-3 thousand in my pocket. One restaurateur will tell you how for six days in a row I did not leave his apartment, of course, in the company of nice company. What about my three trips abroad? It's better not to tell details! When my cash ran out and I had to pay bills, I mortgaged the house, but did not reduce expenses at all. It seemed to me that there was no other way to live! Well, how could I refuse Josephine a stroller or Margarita a necklace?! Or stop visiting Donon and Pivato and go to Greek cookeries?! All this is impossible, and I mortgaged the house with a second mortgage, began mortgaging papers and diamonds. This lasted for about a year, until the creditors came at once, sold the apartment and things, and my wife and children and I moved into a furnished room. No money, no hope ahead! I immediately switched to fusel milk, began to drink voraciously, and from step to step I reached the lodging house; my wife goes to do laundry every day. B‒v began to sob and leaned back in his chair. - God, God, what a disgusting, vulgar way of living, but my tavern life is even nastier and more vulgar. Here I finally lost everything, and if I did not become a thief and a criminal, then it was thanks to the sudden inner attraction to Kronstadt and some vague, vague hope for something better, for help and deliverance through the prayer of Father John. – What prompted you to turn to Father John? – I asked when he calmed down somewhat. “It was some kind of inner voice that persistently sent me to Kronstadt. As always, I thirsted for vodka and could not overcome my thirst until I drained my braids, and I could not drown out this voice until I arrived in Kronstadt and saw the priest. And you know that I did not at all hope to get a meeting with Father John, who was surrounded by thousands of people. But he himself noticed me in the crowd, ordered me to let me through and talked for a long, long time. This conversation still reverberates in my ears and is stored in my heart. Father’s words: “Don’t despair: while you’re still alive, everything can be fixed; just decide to firmly take a new path and make amends for the past with good deeds,” these words stopped me on the railing of the Alexander Bridge, from which I wanted to throw myself into the Neva to end my terrible calculations with life. I say “terrible” because it’s so vulgar, criminal, vile and harmful that only a terrible scoundrel could waste his life the way I did. -Aren't you being too hard on yourself? - What are you, what are you! But there is no name for my actions! Out of luxury and wealth, I reduced my wife and three young children to rags and poverty, beat them, tortured them, dragged the last pillow from under the child to the tavern, leaving the little one to sleep on the bare floor. My wife is a beauty; look who she looks like now; the unfortunate woman, unwashed and unkempt for weeks, seems to have reached the point of idiocy. But not so long ago she played a role in society, was the first at the ball, organized receptions, had a salon. – How many years did you live your fortune? - It's funny to say - at six years old! Diamonds, gold cutlery, silver sets, precious stones - all this filled our apartment, decorated by the best upholsterers and furniture makers in oriental taste; winning tickets and interest papers filled my desk drawers like bales. And at the age of six I managed to reach this robe and these rubber supports. Don't believe it? “Really, I can’t believe it,” I agreed. - What drew you so much to the tavern?.. – Oh, this is a special world, a special life!.. Now I have my own family - drinking buddies, my own friends and interests... I forgot everything except this family, and the family forgot everything except half a pint. And we lived on just half a magnum, directing all our thoughts to getting these half a magnum!.. My suffering wife, unfortunate children, relatives, everyone, everyone became my enemies, whom I was ready to torment, torture... And our only patron, our common “father”, our beloved friend and patron was the kisser of a famous tavern on the Obvodny Canal; We were ready to go through fire and water for our “daddy!” If I tell you about our life, our adventures, your hair will stand on end!.. Eh, it’s better not to remember!.. Father John noticed B‒va in the crowd at the “House of Diligence” and himself ordered him to approach. It is difficult, almost impossible, to convey the impression that the Kronstadt shepherd made on him, and the feelings that he experienced at this significant moment. Even at the entrance to the Church of the House of Diligence, he heard a clear, ringing voice reading the hours. This voice penetrated into my very soul and acted like a healing balm on a wound. Each word echoed in the brain, and B‒v repeated it mentally, feeling that this voice, these words were producing an internal revolution; like wax near the fire, sorrows and anger melted away; the gloomy mood was replaced by some kind of quiet joyful state; he gradually forgot everything present and was carried away somewhere far, far away, into a good, unknown world. There was no need to ask whose voice it was. When from. John finished reading the hours, B-v walked quietly into the church and began to look at the altar from afar, searching with his eyes for the wonderful priest, whom he had never seen before, although he was firmly convinced that he would recognize him as soon as he saw him. There were four priests in the altar. B‒v did not take his eyes off the Royal Doors. He couldn't pray. After all, he had not been in the church of God for exactly twenty-three years, and for 23 years his lips had not uttered a prayer! B‒v was never an atheist and even less an enemy of religion, but simply treated faith completely indifferently, and he did not have to think about the church, prayer, God, the Savior. All this did not come to mind, there was no time to concentrate, and there was no desire to ask religious questions. He lived like thousands of others live. At that moment something unprecedented was happening in his soul; he felt an unfamiliar attraction to something unearthly; the soul was torn into some indefinite space, where there is nothing perishable, everyday, ordinary; before our eyes were drawn the images that we were taught in childhood, but which had long been shrouded in fog: the image of the crucified Savior, the meek face of the Mother of God, a legion of angels singing hymns of praise. Oh, how good my soul felt at that moment! He trembled all over from an excess of new sweet feelings and fell to his knees, transferring his thoughts to heaven, to the throne of the King of kings, the Lord of lords. The liturgy began. Again the familiar distinct voice. But he did not get up from his knees and did not want to take his thoughts off the sky; Never in his life, in the best years of his revelry, had he felt so light, joyful, good... He did not dare to turn to God in prayer, considering himself unworthy to enter into a conversation with the Heavenly Father. But I never wanted to return to earthly things. He was sorry to lose this mental contemplation of heavenly greatness; he remained a mute witness at the foot of the heavenly throne. The liturgy ended, the people became agitated, everyone moved to St. communion. He had to get up too. Then he saw a priest with a cup - a very ordinary priest, thin, short in stature, with a beard and blue, gentle eyes. Could he doubt that it was him?! Yes, out of a thousand priests he would have recognized him by those eyes and that facial expression! For more than an hour the priest distributed St. Communion. Suddenly a trembling ran through his whole body, his knees began to tremble. He felt that the priest had fixed his gaze on him... He quickly looked back... The priest went with the chalice to the altar, and with St. another priest came out with a cross... Soon the church began to empty... B‒v also left the church completely unconsciously, not knowing where he was going... The image of the priest and his gaze fixed on him were so vivid in the brain, as if in reality... “Go to the House of Hard Work,” this image told him... Where? What is the “House of Industriousness”? He stopped on the street, began to look around and saw a large sign: “The House of Father John”... People crowded there... B‒v also ran... They were let into the common hall, where there were already about 200 pilgrims... B‒v pressed himself in the very back near the wall... Half an hour passed... A general movement and excitement of heads announced the arrival of Father John... A familiar voice was heard behind the bars enclosing icons and devices for the blessing of water. The prayer service did not last long, but the venerable shepherd had to stand for a long time with St. cross, while everyone was kissing, and the majority, before kissing, turned to the “dear father” with prayers, requests, even entire confessions. The priest meekly and humbly listened to everyone, answered each one lovingly, and patiently moved from one to the other. B‒v did not dare to go to St. cross. It seemed to him that Father John would drive him away, scream, and anathematize him. He huddled more and more against the wall, hiding behind the backs of others. And suddenly again the same gaze, piercing to the depths of the soul. Again he’s definitely beckoning, calling. This time he didn't think so. He saw that the crowd parted, giving him way, and the neighbors grabbed his hands: “Why don’t you go, the priest is calling you, go quickly.” All the blood rushed to his head; he seemed to be on fire, stopped seeing and hearing, and woke up only when he felt Father John’s hand on his shoulder and heard his quiet voice: - You came to me; well done; let's pray together; you are very unhappy, but the ways of the Lord are inscrutable... We do not know which road He leads us to Himself; but you go to Him, and this is great happiness for you; Just don’t go astray from your path; May the Lord strengthen you... How long ago have you stopped drinking?... – Have you stopped drinking? – he asked again. - But how do you, father, know that I drank and stopped drinking? “It’s not difficult, my son,” answered the priest, “to recognize the unfortunate drunkard in you.” You are not an evil person, the Christian in you has not died, but the enemy defeated you, took you into his hands and this is where he brought you! But it could have been worse! The enemy could destroy your soul! You could die in sin, without repentance! Thank the Lord for His mercy and ask for His help in the fight against the enemy! Father John took him aside to St. icons, and B‒v knelt down. For the first time in 23 years, B‒v raised his eyes to heaven, and his lips whispered the words of prayer. Oh, what a fortune he had! He was trembling with some kind of joyful excitement; my soul felt as light as it had never been before; tears rolled down my face; he made peace at that moment with everyone in the world, with all his enemies and enemies; he wanted to hug them all, so that they would all feel as good as he did at that moment. -Good Lover of Humanity! Who made the creation with one word and created man from it, visit this one with Your ineffable love for mankind, this fallen one who was the slave of sin, accepted and illuminated, so that the work of Your hand will not perish completely... Lord! Your name is Love: do not reject me, a mistaken person. Your name is Strength: strengthen me, who is exhausted and falling. Your name is Light: enlighten my soul, darkened by worldly passions. Your name is Peace: pacify my troubled soul. Your name is Mercy: do not cease to have mercy on me! With every word of the prayer, tears of tenderness, repentance and joy choked the poor drunkard more and more, until he finally burst into tears. He had a hysterical fit. When he came to his senses, from. John was no longer there; the room was empty, only a member of X’s guardianship remained near him at the request of the priest, who needed to go. – Father said that one of these days you should come to confession and receive Holy Communion. “He has secrets,” said Mr. X‒v and then quietly added: “If you don’t have money, the priest left you 10 rubles.” These ten rubles were very dear to B‒va, because both he and his family had already been starving for several days; From somewhere his wife got 50 kopecks for his journey to Kronstadt, but she herself was probably left penniless with the children. Happy, joyful B‒ returned home. His family had not seen him like this for a long time. Now they moved into a bright room, bought food and boots for the children. At the housewarming party, everyone prayed together. Previously, it was not customary for them to read common prayers, and recently they did not even have an icon; the children did not know “Our Father.” Now we decided to pray together every morning and evening. This day passed quietly, peacefully and happily. The next morning, B-v went to Nikolskaya Square and hired himself as a day laborer to roll firewood. This was the first money (1 rub. 10 k.) that he earned. Until now he had only lived, spent and wasted; he didn’t even make money, didn’t want to make any kind of profit, having significant funds at his disposal, and, to tell the truth, he wouldn’t have been able to make money: after all, he knew absolutely nothing, couldn’t do it, and didn’t learn anything. Now he truly earned money, pushing loaded wheelbarrows from 7 o'clock. morning until 9 pm. And strange! He did not feel any heaviness, did not feel tired, and was eager to work, as if he wanted to make up for what had been lost, lived, passed, and drown out his opened conscience. Simple physical work was even more pleasant for him because he could mentally concentrate on his new impressions and be transported far, far away to the blue sky, where the throne of the Almighty, the kingdom of peace and goodness, and the life of afterlife creatures were depicted. Oh, how good it is to live with your soul as much as possible there, there! How empty and insignificant all our “angers” seem when you transfer your thought from heaven to earth! There is eternity, glory, peace, service to the throne of the Creator, but here – the bread is poorly baked today, the vodka is diluted with water or the glass is a penny more expensive. And because of this, people are ready to raise a scandal, make noise, fight, sue... What about spiritual joy? Can it compare with earthly joy? He had a permanent box at the theater, was familiar with many “stars” of ballet and operetta, drank the best overseas wines like water, and as a result, he yawned, suffered from headaches, was bored and often regretted the time and effort spent. Any pleasure was expensive and desirable until it was impossible to get it, and as soon as it was received, I felt emptiness and boredom. Is this real joy, pleasure? And now, when he prayed, and when his whole soul trembled, all the fibers of his body went numb in a quiet, gentle peace, when his heart was filled with an enthusiastic impulse - he was truly happy, happy in a way that he had not even had an idea or concept of before. And this happiness did not depend on anyone, no one could steal it, it was always with him, with him and in him. Sometimes you consider yourself “happy” in the company of some beauty; but this beauty flies away, leaves an empty wallet, and happiness turns into a mirage. And what kind of “happiness” is this when it brings only suffering, illness and disappointment. The new happiness that he found is not only permanent, lasting, unchangeable, but it is also eternal, beyond the grave. This happiness makes death itself joyful... For three days B‒v rolled firewood... Strong, healthy, cheerful, cheerful, he seemed to be completely satisfied with his fate... The family cheered up, were well-fed and also happy; a ruble with a ten-kopeck piece without drunkenness is enough for all modest needs... They even had savings, so on the fourth day B‒v did not go to work, but went with the first steamer to Kronstadt to see Father John... “First correct your life, and then proceed to St. Secrets,” the priest’s words sounded to B‒v... But he seems to have corrected his life! He reconciled with the whole world, with all his friends and enemies, with his surroundings, with his work... But most importantly, he reconciled his soul with the Church, whose prodigal son he had been for 23 years! Now, when he heard the bells ringing and could not tear himself away from his car, he mentally joined the worshipers in the church with them... Now he would suffer if work or illness did not allow him to go to church on Sunday, and before 1,196 (23X52) Sundays he missed and did not think about church even once; I slept until 12 o'clock because I was drunk the day before and returned late. So B‒v began to correct his life, began a new life: in peace, faith and love; but he still had a difficult task ahead of him - to make amends for the past. Make amends with good deeds. How can I, a simple woodcutter, although I graduated from high school and once owned houses, do any good to anyone? What good deeds can I do? With such thoughts, he boarded the first ship and went to Kronstadt. Father John celebrated early mass in the church of the city council on the day when B-v arrived in Kronstadt with the first steamship. The service has already begun. B-v with difficulty made his way into the church and stood at a distance. There were a lot of communicants in the church. It was not difficult to distinguish them by their festive attire and particularly reverent mood. B‒v knelt down. He felt completely calm, like a man who, after searching for something for a long time, found it and, after a surge of first joy, managed to get used to the thought of the find. His calmness bordered on a state of complete happiness and contentment. If you asked him at this moment what he would like most, he would answer: “Stay here.” He was no longer afraid to raise his thoughts to heaven, to be present in spirit before the throne of the Most High and to pray fervently and heartily. On the contrary, he felt there as if in a native, close and dear home, as in a dearly beloved fatherland. Nothing disturbed his tranquility, poisoned his most rosy mood and did not upset his nerves. He even came to terms with his past as something inevitable that cannot be returned! Before communion, Father John spoke a word about how many people come to the spirit with complete indifference, and if they had not been asked anything, they would not have said anything or only said in general that he, the spiritual father, was a sinner in all his sins. And if they had said this with a heartfelt awareness of their guilt, no, then woe is it, without awareness of their sins, but in such a way as to end the matter as quickly as possible. “Beloved! Let us not turn God’s work of extreme mercy towards us sinners into a reason for God’s wrath. How insensitive we are! Don't we have anything to grieve about in confession? We don’t have enough sins: if we began to cry all our lives about our sins, then we would not do anything unnecessary, but only what should be done.” The words of the shepherd, spoken meekly and kindly, made a deep impression on the listeners... Many wept and spoke loudly about their sinfulness... B‒v, who came to receive St. communion, then he only realized that he was far from ready to accept the great sacrament and unite with Christ. As soon as from. John left with St. cup, B‒v hastened to leave the church. “But will I really not see my dear father again? Am I not going to receive his blessing? he thought. -Where did you go? – someone called out to B‒va, calling him by his last name. He turned around somewhat frightened at the call. In front of him was member of the guardianship X. “I defended mass, I want to go to the ship,” answered B‒v as if mechanically. - Wait. Father wanted to see you. Go to the "House of Industriousness". You know, a place has been found for you: to manage the house and run the agency for foreign asphalt. Nice place. - Have mercy. I don't know anything and I can't do anything. I still can't learn to drive a car! Thank you - comrades teach and help. - After all, it is the priest who recommends you; you try to justify his trust: he is very disposed towards you... “I don’t know how to thank Father and you, Mr. X.” “I’m sorry, but the best gratitude to the priest will be if you really improve your life.” - Oh, if I were ordered, under pain of death, to drink a glass of vodka now, I would not agree for anything! Just remembering the past makes me tremble with horror. - This is wonderful, but you remember that your body is weak, and the enemy is strong and watches you every minute... The temptation is greater than we think, and therefore we often perish where we least expect it... Try to see the priest more often, fast more often and pray as much as possible; remember, the priest said: “Prayer is living water with which the soul quenches its thirst”... - Yes, I’m happy to never lose sight of the priest! - But they wanted to go without receiving a blessing... Let's go. They entered a separate room at the House from. John" and remained waiting. Father John came only an hour later and immediately wanted to see God. - Well, how are you working? I prayed for you. God gave you repentance. You can completely improve your life now. B‒v fell to his knees and touched the shepherd’s clothes. His soul was filled with happiness. – When do you plan to fast with me? - Father, I can’t do it yet. I'm not worthy. - Repent, repent. Come to Christ with faith and repentance, and He will give you peace. When you are ready, come, I will confess you. Do you have any enemies, have you offended anyone? Remember and reconcile yourself before proceeding to St. Secrets. B‒v was silent and cried quietly. “The Lord said: “Where two or three are gathered in My name, there I am in the midst of them.” Here you and I are two and the Lord is among us. In the presence of the Lord, I wish you to part with your vicious life forever, stop drinking and carousing, start a new working life and glorify His Most Holy Name! From. John put his hand on the poor man's head and crossed him three times. A nervous tremor passed through B‒va’s entire body. It seemed to him that he had received a new force from outside, powerful, indestructible. When he rose from his knees, the priest was no longer there, but the inspiration did not pass and aroused some kind of pride in him: “I will think, feel, feed on God. Christ is my hope, my breath.” In those days when God was surrounded by luxury, wealth, and a crowd of flatterers and hangers-on, he did not feel as much self-esteem as he does now. Of course, this dignity related entirely to spiritual communication with the Savior, but nevertheless, it indirectly influenced him. He treasured and revered this “communication” as the greatest treasure and guarantee of his existence. My acquaintance with B‒m dates back to the moment when he had just received communion with Father John, received the position of manager and was preparing to take off his ragamuffin outfit, saying goodbye to the wheelbarrow and the two-ruble “bright” corner. His wife and children were resurrected to a new life, younger, healthier; Schools were already planned for the children - in a word, I found B‒va at the turn. My acquaintance with him lasted, as the reader knows, only two days. Only 3-4 weeks have passed since the moment of rebirth. Obviously, it is still impossible to determine how long this new mood will last, and whether B‒v has really abandoned the tavern and revelry forever. But I will tell the readers a brief biography of another drunkard, cured by the prayers of the Kronstadt shepherd, who has been leading a new life for the ninth year, and his disgust for the past grows and develops every year crescendo... Comparing these two cured ones, one involuntarily has to pay attention to the complete identity of their past and present, which is why it seems to me that B‒v will no longer return to the tavern. His nervous shock and self-awareness are too strong, and the latter is the most important! The vast majority of vicious people do not have an awakened conscience, do not admit to themselves their fall and try to convince themselves that they are very good, that they do not want anything better and that in the past they were not mistaken, but consciously walked towards the “achieved” goal. In vain they point out their rags, homelessness, shaky health - all these are “trifles” in comparison with the “pleasures” experienced in taverns, taverns, in the company of drunken drunks like themselves. When B‒v finished his confession and conveyed his spiritual impressions and emotions step by step, I was struck by their identity with the impressions of I‒v, who, as I said, had stopped drinking for 9 years and who, during these 9 years, managed to acquire a good fortune and become a philanthropist. – I’m not afraid of the past, but I hate it! I'm not afraid to drink a glass of vodka (so as not to "wash it down"), but I have an aversion to it! My recent friends at the tavern are not dangerous to me, but they are pathetic, disgusting and give rise to a feeling of disgusting compassion. I am especially sorry that these are my friends in faith, who bear the high title of Christian, who, like me, received St. Sacraments that had communion with God! If you imagine that their hearts are the dwellings of Christ the Savior and in this “dwelling” there is an atmosphere poisoned by fusel, the dirtiest lusts and impulses, then it becomes painful and scary for them! Or are they not afraid of the wrath of God?! Or don’t they understand the terrible abyss in which they find themselves and are suffocating?! I would like to run to them, but not to drink a glass with them, but to shout to them: “Come to your senses, cry and sob while there is time!” This is what I-v said 8 ½ years ago, and what B-v repeats almost word for word now. Can you think that this is insincere or fragile? “Tell me, B‒v,” I asked, “didn’t it ever occur to you that in a year or two you’ll be drinking again in the bars on Borovaya Street?” B‒v thought and lowered his head. - It came. Do you know under what conditions this is possible? If I lost the opportunity to see him often. John, receive St. communion and prayer... I noticed that if I only indulge in exclusively earthly concerns for a few hours, then I gradually and quickly move away from heavenly treasures... It’s enough to spend two or three days without prayer, and on the fourth day you no longer feel like praying; You already have to force yourself; prayer is not a need, aspiration, or joy of the soul, but the fulfillment of a duty, an obligation... If we go further, then St. communion will become the same formal duty, and then there will be complete emptiness of faith, love for God and hope in the Savior! Then it is quite possible that the enemy will fill the resulting void, and from here to the tavern is less than one step! That’s why I try to be almost constantly in communication with Heaven... You and I are now talking, and every pause of my speech is a mental flight to the throne of my Lord! And this is not out of duty, but because I get bored and fall into melancholy if I cannot pray often. This is now my need, my second nature, the atmosphere, my air, without which I cannot breathe. Try holding your breath, covering your mouth and nose. You will begin to choke; Likewise, I suffocate spiritually if I don’t turn to Heaven every minute. Of course, as long as this is so, I cannot die, I cannot return to my previous life. But... but if this stopped, and I died spiritually, then it is very likely that physically I would become a drunkard again! After all, in everything we also look for excitement, revitalization, fun. Why does a drunkard crave vodka so much? They say “the soul asks.” And that's true! Truly "soul". Call this “soul” nerves, nature, whatever you want, the “soul asks” anyway. And if this soul, like mine, trembles before the throne of the Most High, asks for communication with Heaven, then where is the place for fusel, tavern?!.. – And isn’t this constant mental appeal to Heaven difficult and tiring for you? – Aren’t you tired of constantly sucking in air? You even do this at night in your sleep and don’t get tired. Try to merge spiritually with Heaven and you will see that it is incredibly refreshing, revitalizing and strengthens your head! How good is it for the heart?! It seems to me that whoever tries this will never stop living spiritually! And what kind of calm, rosy view of everything around you turns out to be?! The most desperate meanness of your neighbor does not embitter you, but only evokes regret for the scoundrel. It is impossible to be angry or irritated, it means your nerves are always in order, and this is not a joke! I said goodbye to B‒m very cordially and expressed the hope of meeting him again someday. I will try not to lose sight of it for my observations, and now I will introduce readers to another specimen, no less interesting, with I-m. And - into a person of a different environment. He didn’t graduate from high school and doesn’t know how to read and write well, but just like B‒v, he had a large fortune, which he drank, squandered, and came to Father John 8 ½ years ago in rubber supports. It is also interesting to briefly trace the rebirth of Iva because we have almost nine years of experience here, while Bva has only 3 weeks. I-v, with his rude, uncouth nature, could be called the embodiment of all sorts of vices, hobbies and passions. Woman, games and wine were his constant companions. Fortunately, the man is single, he did not destroy at least his family, he did not eat up someone else’s life - his wife and children. Completely undeveloped, without taste and without serious thoughts in his head, I-v got drunk every day, had orgies and squandered money without counting, probably believing that his fortune was inexhaustible. And indeed, it was large: 11,000 acres of land in the south, two houses in St. Petersburg and about 30,000 rubles. in papers. And such and such conditions descend in the capital in a few years! True, many people made money around Iva. For example, when he sold his estates for 700,000 rubles, those who bought immediately resold one forest for felling for 650,000 rubles, and then sold the land, by plot, for almost a million and left themselves several wonderful dachas with orchards and rich inventory. In the same way, his two houses were mortgaged to a Tula bank for an amount one and a half times more than what he was paid, and the commission agents alone earned about 30 thousand rubles here. I'm not talking about the large crowd of hangers-on who ate and lived at his expense for several years. Dozens of actresses and singers kept large diamonds, massive bracelets, brooches, etc. from Iva as souvenirs. jewelry. I could name three restaurateurs into whose pockets no less than 200 thousand rubles from Iva’s capital went. Iva’s dull, fat face expressed nothing but apathy and satiety. He was deceived and cheated as they wished; He never started any argument, did not ask anyone for an account, did not trust anyone, although there was not a single person around him who was in any way disposed towards him, and not a single one felt sorry for him or had any sympathy for him. Compiling unscrupulous accounts to the point of cynicism, some snorted right in his nose, and he, like a baby, shook his head in agreement. Life in such a state of Tolstoy’s non-resistance, or, better to say, Goncharov’s Oblomovism, completely sucked in Iva. In recent hours he had only been drinking in increasing proportions. Acting, actresses, theaters - he was tired of everything, and he limited himself to getting up at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, starting to drink and, with short breaks, drinking until dawn. When his condition began to shake, he perked up and tried to show some activity, but it was too late. Of course, a knowledgeable, experienced and energetic person could easily save some crumbs during the defeat, which would be enough for a comfortable existence; but I-v was not even able to find his way around! Penalties, penalties, inventories of bailiffs and public sales began to pour in. He sold everything under the hammer down to the last bed, which by law cannot be sold, but he sold it! Immediately, in less than a month, I-v turned from Croesus into a homeless beggar! He doesn't have a ruble left in his soul! Everyone abandoned him and recoiled from him. Only one thing has not left him... thirst and passion for drinking! Now more than ever, he wanted to drink, get drunk, forget... The new owner of his house, his former senior janitor, took pity on him and gave him a temporarily bright corner... He begged him for a drink... At first, after the Donons and “Samarkand”, it was difficult for him to put up with the dens of Borovaya, Glazovaya and Obvodny Canal, but here he soon formed his own company, made friends, and life went on as usual... life is always drunk! The hops acted on Iva in some kind of reconciling way... Sober - he remembered the past, what he had lived; cursed himself and others, gnashed his teeth with impotent anger; and when he was drunk, he forgot everything and indulged in contemplation... half a glass!.. It’s only a pity that for such a state there was not enough to drink: no matter how much he drank, he was still drawn to the new braid... All his comrades were surprised at his strength... As soon as he got up in the morning - now for a glass, without which he was shaking, moaning, quietly crying and was ready to beg on his knees for a glass... Often he had to cry lately, because lately he had to cry He didn’t know how to get the scythe. He did not dare to “shoot” with beggars, to steal, and even more so, and tramps have only these means at their disposal. He began to write letters to his former friends. Many people owed him significant sums on his word of honor. A lot of people considered themselves to owe him a lot and once swore eternal gratitude. With a trembling hand, the unfortunate drunkard wrote down hieroglyphs on greasy paper and sent messages without envelopes with his new friends, ragged people just like him. It is very possible that many messages got stuck with the janitors and doormen without reaching the address, but I-v did not receive an answer to a single letter. After that, he tried to visit his debtors personally, but with the same failure: the doormen took him for a beggar and unceremoniously drove him away, threatening him with the police. One day he caught his most bosom friend at the moment when he raised his foot into a carriage. The friend turned around. He looked closely at the drunkard’s blue face. He flushed all over, turned pale and quickly jumped into the carriage. - Ivan Egorovich! I – I-v!.. Or you... The carriage slammed shut and the horses bolted. I-v felt the doorman’s powerful hand on the gate. - Oh, you miserable bastard! Do you dare impudently pester the master! Go-ro-do-howl!.. The policeman appeared. Iva and the janitor were sent to the police station. The police officer on duty looked at the passport of the man brought in, then at him. – Are you the same I-v who owned houses, capital, estates? - You are free, you can go. Go! Where? He would have nothing against staying if only he had been given a few glasses of vodka. Well, does he need much? He is even ready to give up food, just a glass, a glass... There was a moment when I-v stopped thinking about suicide. Indeed, this was the only and in all respects the best outcome. Nothing ahead. The present is poverty. The past is lost forever. No attachments, no purpose in life. Just suffering. And death? She didn’t scare Iva. After all, you still have to die! What awaits him beyond the grave? Nothing or... or... But it doesn’t matter! After all, isn’t it the same thing to die from cholera or a noose?! Who cares?! And for what and for what will he endure all this suffering and hardship?! Pure "profit" to die as soon as possible! There is no hope, strength is weakening, health is deteriorating. Having completely come to terms with the idea of ​​suicide, I-v went to have a “proper” drink for the last time. He walked along the Obvodny Canal and was just about to turn into “his” shelter when he saw a huge crowd of fleeing people. Women and men, in poles and velvet dresses, ran without looking back, as if they were on fire. I-v stopped in bewilderment. What could it be? He followed the crowd. Everyone ran to the Baltic station. -Why are they running? – he asked one passerby. “Father? Father John? Oh, yes: this is the much-famous Kronstadt priest. “I heard and read about him,” I-v thought to himself. - Amazing person! Well! I will ask his blessing for the next world; maybe it will be easier to die. I have never seen him, but they write and talk a lot about him. Is it all true? However, look how they run, push, hurry, climb. The chain of gendarmes cannot hold back. Chu-da-ki." Reasoning with himself, I-v reached the station and stood in the distance. The train has arrived. The crowd swayed, bared their heads, hundreds of hands reached out. Surrounded by gendarmes, he appeared at the entrance from. John. He, too, was without a hat, and long locks of hair hung down to his shoulders. If it weren't for the gendarmes, he would never have been able to get to the carriage. How unceremonious are his admirers! After all, they have to be driven away by force. Screams, moans, tears, lamentations. The struggle lasted for almost a quarter of an hour until they managed to get the priest into the carriage and the horses started moving. The people fled until the carriage sped off and was out of sight. Everyone dispersed, the crowd dispersed, and then Ivan woke up, still standing in the square without a hat. What happened to him? My heart was beating, and I couldn’t get out of my head the sight of a priest with his head uncovered, being carried into a carriage like a child, almost in his arms. And his imagination pictures him of this priest, near whom he feels so good, so calm, so happy. A completely new, unfamiliar feeling to him. And he wanted to see him again, to see this priest closer, he wanted it as much as he had wanted to see the forty after a hangover! And forty? What about a loop as the only way out? All this disappeared in my head, and all thoughts stopped at the image of a wonderful priest. I-v went in the direction where the carriage had disappeared. He walked the streets for a long time, asking, but to no avail. Then he returned back to the station and decided to wait. Well, isn't that surprising? A few hours ago he was surprised that people were running to meet the priest, and now he was waiting for him in the square, hungry and cold, waiting, not knowing how long he would have to stand here, and would he even wait? After all, no one tells him whether the priest will go back today and with what train. However, Yi-wu did not find the wait painful; on the contrary, he was pleased to wait, even until nightfall! He went to the station, climbed onto the landing stage, hid in a corner and waited. He could not determine how much time had passed, because he, in fact, did not wait, but remained waiting, and this state completely satisfied him. If Father John had not arrived at all, he would not have been at all sorry for the lost time. On the contrary, he will willingly wait for tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, as long as the hope of the very possibility of seeing does not disappear, as long as “maybe” remains... It was beginning to get dark when women in black scarves appeared at the station... These are the harbingers of the priest’s arrival... Women with lean faces and in semi-mourning dresses surround the priest in Kronstadt and St. Petersburg; there they keep apartments for visiting pilgrims, and here they take turns taking the priest to the sick... I-v became worried, came out of his ambush and approached one of the women. – Will Father go to Oranienbaum today? – How will I be able to approach him?.. - Do you really want to ask for poverty? – Does he give to poverty? I have 12 kopecks, I wanted to ask him to take it... The woman looked at Iva with such surprise, as if he had run out of a mental hospital... “Are you laughing or are you really not sane?” - Why? Really, I say this seriously... I just really want to see the priest! The woman walked away from him without answering. The landing stage began to fill with people. Gendarmes appeared near the first class compartment. I-v guessed that the compartment had been prepared for the priest, and stood at a distance. Indeed, less than half an hour had passed before the crowd surged, a moving chain of gendarmes appeared and in the middle of the group the uncovered head of a priest. I-v did not allow himself to be wiped off and stood near the carriage itself. The group walked within a step of him. He managed to touch the priest’s cassock and crossed himself. At that moment the priest turned to him and nodded his head. ABOUT! I-v never forgot this moment after. When the priest was placed in the compartment and the crowd grouped around the carriage, Iv was among the first. He saw the face of Father John shining with kindness and affection in the window. But what was his surprise when the window opened and the priest’s hand stuck out, pointing straight towards him! I-v grabbed his hand and kissed it passionately. At that moment he felt a piece of paper in his hand. When the train had already started moving and the people began to disperse, I-v turned his fist and saw two ten-ruble banknotes. “Why do I need this? - he thought. – What will I do with them? After all, this is not money, but a shrine!” As if in a fog, with a heart overflowing with new impressions, I-v went out into the street. Where?!.. It didn’t even occur to him to follow the pre-planned route. His passport and all his property were with him. He went to the night shelter of the Charitable Society and decided that with the “father’s capital” he would have to start a new life. How, what kind of life and where to start, he did not yet know, but in any case the outcome was found, the dawn broke, hope appeared, and from nowhere the energy came from - solid and indestructible energy, which he never had, being a rich man!.. I-v got up early the next morning. Over the past seven or eight years, for the first time he got up without a headache “from a hangover.” The lack of a “hangover” had the consequence that he did not have the slightest desire to “drink.” On the contrary, he was disgusted to poison his skinny body with a spicy fusel potion! But instead of the desire to drink, he had another passionate, irresistible desire - to retire somewhere, to hide from these filthy, dirty slums with their pictures of debauchery, cynicism and moral and physical squalor. Everything, everything around him disgusted him. It was impossible for him now to move to a different environment, to a different circle of people. He simply will not be allowed into a clean restaurant or even into a city square or garden. At almost all the entrances to the Alexander Garden there are gendarmes, letting in only the decently dressed public. Maybe a dandy in a top hat goes into the garden with the most obscene purposes of “hunting” in the dim alleys, and the worker, the blouse, truly wants to rest and breathe after a day’s work in a stuffy factory; But... to the first they say: “You’re welcome”, and to the second – “Go back!”.. Where? To the tavern, to the inn, to the black half of the tavern... “No, no, I won’t go for anything,” I-v thought to himself. “I’d rather stay hungry, I’d rather go to the ends of the world!.. To the ends?.. No, not to the “ends,” but I’ll go on foot to Oranienbaum and from there to Kronstadt, to the priest.” This thought gripped him with such force that he, without thinking any more, went to the Narva Gate and an hour later left the city. It was a hot July day... As soon as the last city buildings disappeared, a picture of wonderful nature unfolded, green space and an alluring distance.... The contrast with the city stench, dirt and dust, with its stinking dens under striped red signs was so great that I-v admired: even the swampy bushes, skinny ears of rye and bald meadows... Everything in this wretched nature seemed he was unusually beautiful, spectacular and wonderful... He walked away from the road, chose a shady birch tree and sank to the ground under the wide branches... For a long time he had not felt so light in his soul, light in his head and joyful in general, having “father’s capital” in his pocket!.. He completely immersed himself in himself... We have already seen the flow of thoughts and the “mental rebirth” of another drunkard, who “experienced” the spiritual joy abundantly distributed and squandered by the Kronstadt shepherd. This spiritual reconciliation with God, the Church and one’s own conscience represents treasure, happiness and joy many times higher than healing from physical ailments or material assistance, also abundantly poured out by Father John. I-v took this path. The light of faith and love penetrated his soul and warmed him a hundred times more than the fusel had warmed him just recently. He loved the barnacle precisely because it “tightened his guts,” as drunkards put it. And now his “gut” also “pinched”, his heart began to beat, and his soul felt light and joyful. But what a difference! Then the head became foggy, the mind became darkened, pain and irritation appeared, the ability to give oneself an account and be aware of actions was lost. And now it’s light, clear, good, and the further it goes, the brighter, the better. I will not follow Iva’s spiritual rebirth step by step, because otherwise I would have to repeat myself; I will note some features. And he is a person, although underdeveloped, but with a fairly strong character and strong will and energy. The fusel child seemed to temporarily dull his will, clouding his energy with fog and giving him the opportunity to express his character only in the amount of fusel he drank. For example, he had no income for two years, although the police registered him as living “on his own means,” and yet he was drunk every day! How? To us, who live by work, this seems completely incredible, impossible, incomprehensible, but thousands of drunkards and tramps daily prove in practice that this is quite possible. Sometimes you can only be touched by their resourcefulness, ingenuity, energy and iron will! Likewise, I-v knew how to live and get drunk for years, although he did not sow, did not reap, and did not gather into the barns. No accountant of a credit society would think of such combinations as he did in the tavern I-v in order to borrow a couple of braids and get drunk. Begging, persuading someone, clearing a drink for himself was an everyday activity for Iva. Make him get a ten-kopeck piece for a useful enterprise, he can’t, but he’ll get a fifty-kopeck piece for drinks. Offer him to take a parcel somewhere or carry out an order for 20-30 kopecks, he will not only refuse, but will be offended, and for the sake of a mower he is ready to kneel in front of you and even kiss your feet. Give him the choice of living freely without vodka or starving and drinking, he won’t think twice about choosing the latter. The passion for drinking is so great in alcoholics, and it is not surprising that this passion absorbs all their feelings, thoughts, desires and all the work of the brain. Statistical figures can prove that nine out of ten criminals commit thefts, robberies and robbery in the name of this one passion. Nine out of ten beggars, nine broken families and damaged organisms owe this to alcohol. Idleness, debt, dissipation, premature death or suicide - all this in 9 cases out of 10 is a consequence of alcohol. I am not a hereditary alcoholic. He was born and raised completely healthy, as evidenced by his iron constitution; but he gradually became involved in drinking. First a drink before lunch, then 2-3, then a drink at lunch, and finally drinking outside of lunch! Developing gradually, the passion for sea lion has no boundaries. Getting used to drinking, you want more and more every day, and there is no limit to this “wanting”! I’ve been drinking 3-4 kosushkas (half a bottle) lately; but if the opportunity presented itself, he drank 6-7 and would drink more. There was never a time when any of his drinking companions said: “It’s enough, I don’t want it.” It’s enough when there’s nothing else to drink, or when he fell unconscious under the table. But this is “enough” only until the moment when consciousness returns, or the opportunity arises to get drunk again. And so all his life until the ambulance, usually a grave or a ward in a mental hospital. A long line of pictures of the past, as if in a panorama, passed through Iva’s head as he sat under a birch tree on the way to “father.” I-v focused entirely on his future and tried to forget the whole past. True, in this past there was nothing shameful, criminal or illegal, but there were more than enough actions and things that were ugly, immoral and deeply vicious. It is impossible to waste such capital as he had, to get confused, to get into debt and, in the end, to live for four years without any specific occupations or earnings, except by first drowning out his conscience, losing shame and forgetting every duty of a citizen, a man and a son of the Orthodox Church. These facts, like terrible shadows, crept into his head against his will, passed through his brain in a long line and made his heart clench. He felt ashamed of himself, the surrounding nature and some still unclear image of the all-seeing, omnipresent, unchangeable and eternally existing now and ever and forever and ever. What kind of paintings are these?! What vile, disgusting and stupid positions he occupied! What condition was he in?! Worse than any beast! Over there, these “cattle” are grazing in the distance, which people often remember in the sense of abuse. Are they not a thousand times more orderly, decent, kinder and cleaner than the other “man” in the tavern, drunk, senseless, lustful and disgusting? If cattle could be offended, they would consider it an insult to compare themselves with such a person, like Iva. No cattle can tolerate either vodka or tobacco and is not as cruel, ungrateful and unjust as a person who is related to the tavern. I will not give these pictures of Iva’s past. All familiar scenes from drinking chronicles, scenes of revelry, debauchery, drunkenness and dirt. Readers already encounter these scenes at every step. They are well known to us, but our nerves are so accustomed to them that we are not even impressed by such facts, where lives are lost, blood is shed, and the foundations of family life, social and religious, are shaken. It is rarely possible to open a newspaper issue without finding several such facts in the court chronicle or adventure diary. The day was already approaching evening when I-v got up from his stump to continue his journey. He had not eaten anything since the morning and did not want to eat, but his inner agitation weakened him so much that he staggered like a drunk. He didn't see the outcome. Living with these memories seemed impossible to him. They suffocated, crushed him and caused unbearable torment. How can you get rid of them?! After all, these are not mirages of a frustrated imagination, not illusions - the fruits of fantasy, but reality and facts, witnesses, eyewitnesses of which are obvious! Under the weight of these facts, he became disgusted with himself! Every grass, flower, bush and everything living in nature exposed him as a scoundrel who had committed so many abominations! He was ashamed to look at them, because they were pure, innocent, although insignificant; and he, a young, strong, healthy man, the king of this nature, sank and humiliated himself to such filth that a flower or grass would die at one touch of these filth. I-v did not yet understand that a conscience had awakened in him, demanding retribution for the past and calling him to account. He thought that this terrible “state would now pass, he would forget everything and make a plan for his future life with the “capital of Father John.” He treated Father John as a glorified man, gifted with incomprehensible power and influence; a person who is capable of helping everyone from all troubles, evils, and including helping him start a future new life. How he himself felt about the Kronstadt shepherd, and why the shepherd must certainly help him, he did not ask himself the question; whether he himself considers from. John for the shepherd, strong in faith and the grace of God, whether he himself believed in this grace, I-v himself did not know. All this seemed unimportant and secondary to him. The main thing is to start a new life! And the past was accidentally remembered and now will pass forever, disappear into oblivion. However, this past did not leave his head, but on the contrary, it pressed on him more and more and pestered him more and more persistently. He felt that he was losing heart, losing his bright prospects and looking in vain for a way out. Then he began to look for excuses for this past. “Am I the only one who lived and lives like this? Aren't thousands of people living worse?! I didn’t steal, rob or kill anyone, and in our rooming house there are hiding two convicts from Siberia, who have stained their hands with blood more than once?! And they are cheerful, happy, joking about their past. Why should I be sad when I am a wonderful person compared to them? Have I done enough good? How many people have I helped in my time? True, in recent years I have begged more than I have given, but this is because I myself suffered, suffered a lot and had nothing! No, positively nonsense! I am ashamed of grass, flowers, birds, because they are purer, more innocent; but it’s good for them to live with everything ready! If I had put them in my position, they might have sinned more! It's funny to compare a person to weed! It is necessary to compare equal with equal... For example, I and Petka the crooked one, who took his wife’s last mattress, sold it to a shopkeeper, drank the money away and beat his hungry wife half to death. Am I not kinder, better than this Petka?!.” In the past, these considerations would have been quite enough to restore a good mood. But now they didn’t help Yi-wu much. Some voice inside him immediately opposed him: “It’s not true. You're lying. Those drunkards and convicts are a thousand times better than you, because none of them had such capital as you, and the money you squandered was vulgar, disgusting, shameful! They are better than you because they do not realize the horror of their deeds, do not understand goodness and do not know shame. If they were as hung up as you are today and opened their spiritual eyes, then perhaps they would hang themselves on the first aspen! Only constant drunkenness, a completely dead conscience and dull insensibility make them like this. And you? How much did you get?! A kind heart, intelligence, a good deed, a large fortune, an honest name, a family. Everything, everything that others don’t dare to dream about, and where is it all?! What have you come to! What pushed you into this abyss? Hundreds of people were feeding near your factory, and you robbed them all and sent them around the world! You could easily give 20-30 thousand a year to charity without touching the capital, but you once gave 5 thousand and sought an order for yourself! And where is this capital and opportunity to help others now?! Did you have the right to act so vulgarly and disgustingly with the money of your father and grandfather?! What would they say if they rose from the grave now?! What about my relatives? Didn't I rob them?! And all my former and current acquaintances? Whom did I help unselfishly and from whom did I not ask for reward, payment even for just feelings and affection?! And my connections, hobbies!” And he began to sob hysterically... The thought of the noose came to mind again, as before the meeting with O. John. “I can’t, I can’t,” he tore out his hair, continuing to sob. And then suddenly a thought struck him: “And the Savior, crucified for us? And the Church that forgives sins? And Father John’s blessing for a new life?!” And his heart began to beat with such joy that he suddenly began to clap his hands, jump and run towards Oranienbaum. I-v arrived in Kronstadt in such an excited state that he seemed insane. He ran around the city, addressed passers-by with strange questions and, asking something, immediately contradicted himself. His appearance was so abnormal that many avoided him when they met, and the police officers looked at him suspiciously, wondering, “Shouldn’t they take the fellow?” Only upon entering St. Andrew's Cathedral did he calm down somewhat and kneel down between the rear columns. Mirages of the past did not leave him. Some strange struggle was taking place within him. It was as if he felt within himself the struggle of two independent forces. One force drew him to the cathedral, to the face of the Savior, to prayer, to Heaven; the other, on the contrary, depicted the horrors of the past and was drawn to the glass as quickly as possible, to put out these mirages in wine, to stock up on the courage of a drunk, the fearlessness of a drunk. In the past it happened to him to be “blundering,” that is, to be mopey, and the scythe was always the most radical remedy; after the second or third “can” everything was done “trifles” and so well, peace of mind!.. It was this struggle that forced him to run around Kronstadt in indecision for three hours, asking first the tavern, then the church, then Father John. It took him almost supernatural efforts to enter the cathedral, but even now this struggle did not stop. “Stop being stupid! What are you, some kind of woman? What are you supposed to do here? Aren't you going to become a hypocrite? Go, grab a glass, it’s much healthier”... And he got up from his knees, opened his eyes wide and, waving his hand, headed towards the exit. He reaches the vestibule and hears another voice: “What! Back again? To your own?! To the beggars, tramps, drunkards, drunkards, convicts! Back in the dirt! To the dens! Is this with Father John’s money?!” And he returned to the cathedral to his original place, rather knelt down and closed his eyes... He would willingly give half his life to forget himself, to calm down at that moment and drown out the struggle... His head was burning, his churches were pounded as if with hammers, his heart ached... And again the voice: “You are a fool! Definitely small! What a shame it is to amuse yourself with nonsense! Enough! He lived peacefully, for his own pleasure, but now he’s gone crazy! You’ll go completely crazy!” And he walked to the door, grabbed the handle, took a step towards the exit and suddenly back... He throws himself on the floor and hits his forehead hard on the stone slab... There was no service in the church, mass had departed, vespers had not yet begun, but there were about 20 people praying. Everyone was immersed in themselves and did not notice Iva... And he, meanwhile, with bloodshot eyes and clenched teeth, looked wildly around... He suffered, as if his veins were being pulled out... At that moment he would have taken death for happiness, redemption... If he could cry, sob, it would be easier for him, but where can he get tears? Where to look for relief, help, deliverance? “Well, anyway, I’ll go, I’ll go and have a drink; after all, more or less with a mower - it makes no difference; I’ll still have time to come to the cathedral; I won’t be more sinful because of one extra braid”... He takes his hat to go - and again the voice: “This braid is your death sentence! Previously you drank because you were blind and walked in darkness, but now you have received your sight, seen the light and will go to drink; there is no return or forgiveness for you! Cursed forever and ever!..” - Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner! God, help, help me,” he moaned... His whisper swept through the church and forced those present to turn around... I-v pressed his hand on his throat; There was blood coming out from under the nails... “Come to Me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest,” said a voice right next to Iva’s ear. He released his throat and, turning his face, saw Father John next to him. The meek shepherd put his hand on his shoulder and said: - Cry, my son, for your sins! This will benefit you in the future. The path of salvation is not strewn with roses and there are many thorns on it, but the crown is sweet! Father, I have no more strength,” groaned I-v, falling to his knees. There's a lot of strength there! Ask - and it will be given to you! We are weak, and no one could stand against the enemy, but the Lord is merciful. He is our intercessor and helper! In His name we are strong! Let's pray together! Father John put his hand on Iva’s head and began to read a prayer. I-v did not follow the words of the prayer and did not even understand them, but he felt that with every word a revolution was taking place in him, and the struggle subsided, painful visions disappeared, silence and peace came. The shepherd finished and blessed him. – In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, may you be given strength and strength in the fight against the enemy! May you overcome him and live in Christ! With the power of the power given to me, I bless you! Everything was quiet. I-v rose from his knees. The shepherd was no longer there. But it’s strange: it seemed to him that Father John was here, and his beneficial, amazing power was with him! What kind of power this is, he does not know, but a miraculous revolution took place in him! He will not remember such calmness and peace as now for the rest of his life! Everything that tormented and tormented him immediately disappeared! The voices arguing within him fell silent. He made the sign of the cross and walked towards the exit. And a week later he confessed and received Holy Communion. The Mysteries of Father John. The ghosts of the past stopped tormenting his soul. He completely calmed down, reconciled himself with life and looked at the future with different eyes: – What do I want from life? What are my needs, aspirations, goals? Strange! Everything that I need so much, what I want, what I strive for with all my soul, turns out to be very accessible, free, easy and very, very cheap! And everything else has lost meaning for me, lost interest and is far from necessary. And he meant spiritual food, lavished in abundance and with a generous hand by the Orthodox Church. Never in the past did an opera performance or theatrical performance give him a hundredth part of the aesthetic pleasure that now the angelic singing of Lavra, monastery or cathedral singers; but then a place in the theater cost him several rubles and caused considerable expenses, whereas now complete spiritual satisfaction is not only offered for free, but is encouraged, almost forced upon those who wish it. Calmness, spiritual peace and moral satisfaction were given with such difficulty that one had to involuntarily replace it with physical satiety, drowning out the voice of the soul. Now I-v was so morally satisfied that he almost forgot about his physical needs. He was completely indifferent to what to eat or drink, what to wear, as long as he maintained decency, as long as no one pointed a finger at him and said: “Look, what a follower of the Kronstadt shepherd.” He could not bear this insult and guarded himself with horror, whereas before the most vulgar abuse directed at him would only evoke laughter and irony in him: “Abuse does not hang on the collar”... No, now, as a follower of Father John, as a bearer of the Orthodox faith, he could not allow himself to be insulted; just like a person who has a precious burden with him is afraid of getting it dirty, dropping it in the mud, spoiling it... “How? Me, who was received yesterday by St. Gifts, will they be called a scoundrel today and will they be called deservedly? Why, St. communion is in me, and with it the Savior Himself is in me, and suddenly I... I... No, no, never.” And he fled from where vicious people were gathering, so that they would not accidentally mix him into this crowd and insult the prototype of Christ the Savior in his person. He fled from any business that was not sufficiently pure and honest... He could not enter the service, as he was offered, in a tavern where visitors are soldered; He did not accept a place in several shops where they cheat and deceive. – I can’t do this. I can’t do it for thousands! - Well, then die of hunger! - they told him. - Oh, I would much rather die of hunger as an honest man than get rich as a swindler! I would rather give my last penny to my neighbor than take a penny from a rich man by deception. This penny will deprive me of what is now dearest to me in life. For almost a month I‒v was looking for things to do, work, activities. As a child, he was good at carpentry and carpentry and loved this activity. He decided to do this and went with an offer of workshop services. For one piece of bread and a bed, they hired him to plan beams somewhere on Vasilyevsky Island. Only two weeks passed, and without his even asking, the owner gave him a small salary. A year later he became a master, and two years later he became the owner’s partner. Now I-v owns houses, capital and makes large donations to good causes. Drunkenness never attracts him, and he does not take anything intoxicating in his mouth.