Воспоминания современников

Nadezhda Aksakova's childhood memories of St. Seraphim of Sarov Now, when seventy years have passed, I cannot remember why my father and mother in 1831 or 1832, together with a huge family - from older teenagers to a baby at the mother’s breast, almost with all the household servants, in a word, in the then expression, with the children and members of the household - left our family nest in Nizhny Novgorod and went to the Murom forests, to the Sarov Monastery. Shortly before our pilgrimage, a previously unknown Asian guest, cholera, swept over the country, but by the time we left, the quarantine barriers had been removed, the roads were cleared and were again filled with pilgrims and wanderers. We rode long distances (that’s what they called back then riding on our own horses with stops along the way to spend the night and feed the horses). I remember well the halts on the forest edge near the stream, with fires, with samovars, with all the expanse of the half-gypsy nomad... I remember spending the night in the huge villages of a rich, prosperous region: in a spacious, recently felled hut, I fell asleep sweetly to the buzz of women’s spindles... You look, half asleep, and the women are still spinning, silently spinning long after midnight. The gray-haired old woman either sits down, then gets up again, with measured movements like a pendulum, inserting splinter after splinter into the tall light... And from the height of the light, sparks rain down in splashes, like a fiery rain, giving the silent work of the peasant women in the silence of the night something fantastic, fabulous... After each overnight stay, after each halt, more and more Sarov pilgrims joined us. In those days people loved to stick together when approaching the then unsafe Muromsky forest. I remember how a line of our carriages slowly and ponderously pulled along the shifting sands of the main road, skirting the edge of a formidable coniferous forest. Our last carriage was joined one after another by peasant carts; The pilgrims on foot diligently kneaded the shifting sand with their feet, just so as not to fall behind and lose their guard. From time to time a rifle shot was heard: it was an old captive Turk, once taken out by his grandfather, who was amusing himself. Now, as either a bartender or a housekeeper, he sat importantly on the wide box of his grandmother’s traveling carriage, saying after each shot: “Let them get scared there in the forest.” I can’t remember the general appearance of the Sarov monastery upon entry. It was probably towards evening, and we children took a nap, napping on the laps of our elders. Upon entering the long, low, vaulted monastery dining room, we children were seized with a slight trembling, either from the dampness of the stone building, or simply from fear. In the very middle of the meal, the monk, standing at the lectern, read the lives of the saints. The guests of honor sat to the right in deep silence at a long table, disdainfully scooping wooden spoons from a common bowl that was unusual for them. The peasants at the other table to the left were diligently slurping up the delicious monastery food. Everyone was silent. Under the dimly lit arches, only the monotonous voice of the reader and the restrained shuffling of the servants' shoes on the stone floor, serving food in wooden cups and on wooden trays, could be heard. That night, we children were not woken up for matins, and we only got to mass. Father Seraphim was not at the service, and the people flocked straight from the church to the building in which the monastery shelter of the famous hermit was located. Our family also joined the pilgrims. We walked for a long time under the arches of endless, as it seemed to me then, dark passages. The monk with a candle walked ahead. “Here,” he said, and, untying the key from his belt, he used it to unlock the lock that hung at the low, narrow door set deep into the thick stone wall. Bending towards the door, the old man said the usual greeting in monasteries: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.” But there was no response “Amen” as an invitation to enter. “Try it yourself, see if any of you respond,” said the old counselor. The exclamation was repeated first by father, mother, and then by all of us. But there was silence behind the door. – Maybe you, Alexey Nefedovich? - the monk asked my neighbor, my uncle on the estate, a man of holy life, whose charity extended to the point that he gave away almost all his property to the poor. Father Seraphim loved Alexei Nefedovich very much. Prokudin quickly walked to the door, bent down to it and with the confidence of a friend at home, with a smile of ready greeting on his face, softly said in a chest tenor familiar to us: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.” But there was no answer to his voice either. “If he didn’t answer you, Alexey Nefedovich, then the elder is not in his cell,” said the monk. “Should I go and check under the window to see if he jumped out when I heard the roar of your train in the yard?” We followed the gray-haired counselor out of the corridor by another, shorter route. Having rounded the corner of the building, we found ourselves on a small platform, right under Father Seraphim’s window. On the site between two old graves there were indeed traces of two feet, shod in work shoes. “Run away,” the gray-haired monk said worriedly, embarrassedly turning the now unnecessary key to the empty cell in his hands. “Eh-ma,” he sighed deeply, humbly returning to his obedience of guiding pilgrims around the monastery shrine. Meanwhile, a crowd of them was already crowding around an old grave standing at a distance with a cast-iron coffin instead of a monument. Some, while crossing themselves, kissed cold cast iron, some raked up loose sand from under the tomb, wrapping it in a scarf... Having crossed himself three times, the monk bowed down to the ground in front of the grave. All the people bowed after him. “Our father Mark,” the monk began to tell, “saved in these forests when our monastery was just being built.” Enemy forest robbers more than once maimed him in the forest, trying to find out the place where the monastery treasures were supposedly buried, and finally tore out his tongue. For tens of years the martyr lived in our forest as an involuntary silent man. And for all his patience during his life, the Lord now gives miraculous power to his tomb. Many miracles have already happened over this grave, and we, unworthy of his brothers, sing requiems here, waiting for God to please reveal his holy relics from under cover. The crowd of pilgrims respectfully parted, interrupting the monk's speech: the abbot himself went with the singers to serve the Sunday requiem service over the grave of his deceased brother. After the funeral service, Father Abbot blessed us, pilgrims, to look for Father Seraphim in the forest: “He won’t go far,” the abbot consoled us, “after all, like our father Mark, he was severely crippled in his lifetime.” You will see for yourself: where is the arm, where is the leg, and there is a hump on the shoulder. Was it a bear that broke him... or people beating him... because he, like a baby, won’t say. But you are unlikely to find it in the forest. He will hide in the bushes and lie down in the grass. Will he himself respond to children's voices? Take more children so that they can go ahead of you. “We should definitely run ahead,” the abbot shouted after the crowd that had already moved towards the forest. At first it was fun for us alone, all alone, without supervision and without supervision, to run along the soft, velvety layer of loose sand. We, city children, had to stop every now and then to shake out the fine white sand from one or another slotted (fashionable at that time) shoe. The village sandals, laughing, shouted to us as we walked: “Why don’t you take off your shoes... it will be easier.” The forest became thicker and higher. The dampness of the forest was felt more and more, there was a calm, a strong and tart, unusual smell of resin. It became completely dark under the high arches of huge fir trees... Luckily, somewhere in the distance a ray of sunlight flashed and lit up between the needle-like branches... We took heart, ran towards the gap that flickered in the distance, and soon we all ran out scattered into a green, sun-drenched clearing. We look: near a separate spruce tree standing in a clearing, a short, thin old man is working, bending almost to the ground, deftly cutting tall forest grass with a sickle. The sickle sparkles in the hot sun. Hearing a rustling in the forest, the old man quickly stood up, became wary, looked in our direction and then, like a frightened hare, quickly ran towards the thicket of the forest. But, not having time to reach him, he was out of breath, timidly looking around, ducked into the thick grass of the curtain he had not cut and disappeared from view. Just then we remembered our parents’ instructions when entering the forest, and we shouted in almost twenty voices in unison: “Father Seraphim! Father Seraphim! What the monastery pilgrims hoped for happened: hearing the children, Father Seraphim could not stand it, and his head appeared from behind the tall stems of forest grass. Putting his finger to his lips, he looked at us, smiling, as if begging us not to betray him to the elders, whose steps were already heard in the forest. At first we didn’t like him: his yellowish hair was wet with sweat, his wrinkled face bitten by midges, all covered in dried drops of blood. But when, having trodden a path through the grass, he sat down on the grass and beckoned us to him, something suddenly breathed on us, so that our little Lisa was the first to throw herself on the old man’s neck, pressing her face to his shoulder, covered with rags. “Treasures, treasures,” he said in a barely audible whisper, pressing each of us to his thin chest. We hugged the elder, and meanwhile the shepherd Sema, who was mixed up in the crowd of children, ran as fast as he could back to the side of the monastery, loudly shouting: - Here, here. Here he is... Here is Father Seraphim. Syu-yu-da-ah. We felt ashamed. Both our shouts and our hugs seemed to us like something like betrayal. We felt even more ashamed when two powerful, out of breath figures, I don’t remember whether they were men or women, grabbed the old man by the elbows and led him to a heap of people that had already poured out of the forest. Having come to our senses, we rushed after Father Seraphim... Having outstripped his uninvited counselors, he now walked alone, limping slightly, to his shack above the stream. Approaching her, he turned to face the pilgrims waiting for him. There were a lot of them. “I have nothing to treat you here, dears,” he said in the soft, embarrassed tone of a householder caught by surprise in the midst of a working day. - But perhaps you can treat the children. And then, turning to our brother, he said: - Here I have beds with onions. See. Gather all the children, cut them some onions, feed them the onions and give them a good drink of water from the stream. We skipped to carry out Father Seraphim’s orders and squatted down between the beds. Of course, no one touched Luke. All of us, lying down in the grass, looked from behind it at the old man, who hugged us so tightly to his chest. Having received the blessing, all the pilgrims stood around the elder in a respectful semicircle. Most peasant women wore white scarves as a sign of mourning. The daughter of our old nanny, who had recently died of cholera, was crying quietly, covering her face with her apron. “The plague then, now cholera,” the hermit said slowly, as if recalling to himself something long, long past. “Look,” he said loudly, “there the children will cut the onion, there will be nothing left of it on top of the ground... But it will rise, grow stronger and stronger than before... So will our dead ones - both the plague and cholera... and everyone will rise better, more beautiful than before.” They will be resurrected. Will be resurrected. They will be resurrected, every single one... The hermit did not address the pagans with the news of the resurrection. Everyone standing here knew from a young age “about the life of the next century.” Everyone exchanged the joyful news of the Resurrection on the “Bright Day.” Meanwhile, this loud “will be resurrected, will be resurrected,” proclaimed in a remote forest by lips that had spoken so little throughout life, flashed over the clearing as an assurance of something undoubted, close. Standing in front of the door of his forest hut, in which it was impossible to either stand up or lie down, the old man quietly crossed himself, continuing his prayer, his silent prayer... People did not interfere with him, just as neither work with an ax, nor haymaking, nor heat, nor cold, nor night, nor day, interfered with his constant conversation with God. In front of everyone stood the formidable Mrs. Zorina, who was well known to us, a distant relative of my father. Behind her was crowded a whole staff of female servants, dressed, like herself, in black with white scarves on their heads. The old woman was supported by her elbows by two squirrels in velvet pointed caps. In the solemn silence of a forest clearing with people quietly praying, we clearly heard Zorina’s grumbling whisper: “You can pray at home. I came to speak out and I will speak out.” And, pushing her entourage in both directions, she swam with both of them to the very middle of the semicircle. “Father Seraphim, Father Seraphim,” she called loudly to the hermit. “Here I am, General Zorina, a widow for thirty years.” I’ve been living for fifteen years, maybe you’ve heard, at the monastery with all these people. During all this time I have been observing Wednesdays and Fridays; Now I’m thinking about going on Monday, so what do you say to that? What do you recommend, Father Seraphim? If a low-flying flock of rooks had appeared over the clearing, their cawing would have been less disturbing than Zorina’s voice, interrupting the prayerful silence. And Father Seraphim, as if puzzled, blinked at her with his kind eyes: “I don’t quite understand you,” he said and then, after thinking a little, he added: “If you’re talking about food, then I’ll tell you this: when you pray, you forget about food, so don’t eat, don’t eat for a day, don’t eat for two, and then when you get hungry and weak, just eat a little.” Everyone smiled. The zealot of the fast somehow awkwardly backed away along with her courtiers, quickly hiding with them in the crowd of her own. Father Seraphim beckoned Prokudin with his hand: “Tell them,” he said, “do me a favor, tell everyone to drink from this spring.” The water there is good. And tomorrow I will be at the monastery. I definitely will. When everyone, having quenched their thirst, returned to the clearing, Seraphim was no longer on the hill in front of his hut. Only in the distance behind the bushes did a sickle rustle, cutting off dry forest grass. On the way back, we walked alone, as a family, taking into account the tired gait of my grandmother, my father’s mother. Only Alexey Nefedovich was with us and a long row of household members stretched at some distance behind. Crowds of pilgrims were already entering the monastery gates, but we still did not leave the wide, cool clearing, at the end of which the heads of the monastery cathedral could be seen in the distance. The father began to sing quietly, which he always did when he was among his family and he felt good in his soul, and both older sisters and brother began to sing, as always, in their angelic, still half-childish voice; Prokudin's deep tenor echoed them. Separated from the other servants, Semyon and Vasily moved along, the bass voices of our family songs, and a modest but harmonious choir announced the high arches of the clearing: “We sing to You, we bless You, we thank You and we pray. Our God. Our God. Our God..." The sounds of the last “Our God” were still fading in the heights when we quietly stepped out into the monastery clearing. The meek appearance of the forest elder seemed to stand before the eyes of the singers. My sister Lisa, the same one whom Father Seraphim hugged, calling her a treasure, held me tightly with both hands. When leaving the darkness of the forest, she squeezed my hand and, looking into my face, said: “After all, Father Seraphim only seems like an old man, but in fact he is the same as you and me.” Since then, over the next seventy years of my life, I have seen smart, kind, and wise eyes, I have seen many eyes full of hot, sincere affection, but never since then have I seen such childishly clear, senilely beautiful eyes as those that looked at us so tenderly that morning from behind the tall stems of forest grass. There was a revelation of love in them... The smile that covered this wrinkled, exhausted face can only be compared with the smile of a sleeping newborn, when, according to old nannies, his recent comrades, Angels, console him in his sleep. For the rest of my life, I will remember the seedlings of small firewood interspersed with shocks of hay, which I saw in early childhood in a forest clearing, among a dense forest, among giant pines, as if guarding this poor, backbreaking work of a frail body, but strong with God’s help, a hermit. From early morning the next day, Father Seraphim, according to his promise, was already in the monastery. He greeted us, pilgrims, as a hospitable householder greets his invited guests, in the open doors of his inner cell. No trace of his stay in the desert was visible on him: his yellowish-gray hair was combed smoothly, in the deep wrinkles there was no visible blood from the bites of forest mosquitoes; a snow-white linen shirt replaced a worn-out homespun; all of it was as if an expression of the words of the Savior: “When you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may appear fasting not before men, but before your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly.” The hermit's face was joyful, the cell was filled with bags filled with breadcrumbs from prosphoras. The only space left free was in front of the icons for kneeling and prayer. Next to the elder stood the same bag of breadcrumbs, but open. Father Seraphim distributed a handful of it to each pilgrim who approached him, saying: “Eat, eat, my lights. You see what abundance we have here.” Having finished with the distribution and blessing the last one who came up, the elder stepped back half a step and, bowing deeply on both sides, said: - Forgive me, fathers and brothers, for what I have sinned against you in word, deed or thought. (Father Seraphim went to confession this evening with the confessor common to all the monasteries.) Then he straightened up and, shading everyone present with a wide priestly cross, added solemnly: - May the Lord forgive and have mercy on all of you. Thus ended our second meeting with the Reverend Elder. I don’t remember how we spent the rest of that day, but the third and last day of our stay in the Sarov Desert remained all the more vivid in my memory. Having confessed, as I said, the day before, Father Seraphim served mass as a priest in a small church that day. Only a few of the pilgrims could attend the service in this small church. We didn’t get into the service either. Remembering those who could not fit into the church, the monk sent a novice to say that he would come to us with a cross after the service. All of us, rich and poor, were waiting for him, crowding around the church porch. He appeared at the church doors in full monastic vestments and a service epitrachelion. His high forehead and all the features of his moving face shone with the joy of a man who had worthily tasted the Body and Blood of Christ; in his eyes, large and blue, there was a sparkle of intelligence and thought. He slowly walked down the steps of the porch and, despite his limp and the hump on his shoulder, he seemed and was majestically beautiful. Ahead of the crowd at that time was a familiar German student who had just arrived to us from Dorpat. His tall, handsome figure and the curiosity with which he looked at what seemed to him a Russian oddity could not help but attract the attention of the hermit, and he was the first to give him the cross. The young German, not understanding what was required of him, grabbed the cross with a black-gloved hand. “A glove,” the old man said reproachfully. The German just became completely embarrassed. Father Seraphim then stepped back two steps and spoke: – Do you know what a cross is? Do you understand the meaning of the cross of the Lord? Even if I had enough memory to retain all these years the words of the hermit, then even then I would not be able to include this impromptu sermon in my memories. But at that time I was not able to understand her. At that time I could not have been more than nine years old. But I will never forget this clear gaze, I will never forget the suddenly transformed face of the woodcutter of the Murom forests. I vividly remember the sounds of a voice saying “as one who has power” to the small flock of pilgrims gathered in Sarov. I remember the sympathetic sparkle in Prokudin’s black eyes, I remember my old grandmother, humbly standing before the hermit, “like a wet lip.” I remember the youthful delight that flared up in the eyes of the smaller uncle. The preacher noticed him and, bending slightly towards his uncle, said: The uncle rushed to look for his wallet in his pockets, but the hermit stopped him with a quiet movement of his hand: “No, not now,” he said. – Give out always, everywhere. And with these words he held out the cross to him first. And my late uncle did not “go away to mourn,” as was the case with the rich young man of Scripture... We were in a hurry to go back. We were a little late, and we did not have to get out before dark from the outskirts of the shifting sands that skirt the still terrible, according to rumors, dense Sarovsky forest. The walking pilgrims, among whom, as always, there were many frail, weak from old age, many women and children, had already gone ahead. In the monastery courtyard, the roar of departing carriages of wealthier pilgrims could be heard every now and then. And our horses were already standing at the hotel porch. Our well-fed horses beat their hooves on the ground, hurrying with their impatience the servants who were carrying travel luggage to the carriages. An old monastery servant approached Alexei Nefedovich, who was riding on horseback and already raising his foot in the stirrup. “Before this morning,” he said, “Father Seraphim, leaving the church, deigned to whisper to me in passing his order, so that you, Alexey Nefedovich, do not leave in the evening without seeing him again.” “An old friend, my spiritual father, wants to say goodbye,” Prokudin said, turning to us. - Come with me, everyone. And so our whole family, headed by a retired hussar, again stretched along the long corridors of the monastery building. The door to the hermit's hallway was wide open, as if inviting entry. We silently positioned ourselves along the wall of a long and narrow room opposite the doors of the inner cell. The last trembling ray of the setting sun fell on a coffin hollowed out of an oak ridge, standing in the corner on two cross benches. Leaning against the wall, the coffin lid stood ready... The cell door opened silently and slowly. With silent steps the elder approached the coffin. His bloodless face was pale, his eyes looked somewhere into the distance, as if intently peering into something invisible that occupied his entire soul. The flame of a bunch of lit wax candles trembled in his hand. Having stuck four candles on the outskirts of the coffin, he beckoned Prokudin to him and then looked intently and sadly into his eyes. Having crossed the oak coffin with a wide pastoral cross, he said dully but solemnly: The word of the Holy Elder was understood both by Prokudin himself and by those around him as a prediction of his, Prokudin’s, death. Under the stunning impression of this prediction, we left the Sarov monastery. I never had a chance to see St. Seraphim again. Almost the next year (1833), the monks found him in his cell, deceased on his knees during prayer. But, of course, our family still remembered the great elder and this pilgrimage for a long time. It remains for me to tell you how Father Seraphim’s prediction came true. On the day of the Intercession of the Virgin Mary, our street, always quiet, was difficult to recognize. Every now and then quarter after quarter rushed past our house. It seems that everyone who had a carriage went on that day to drive along our street and stop in front of the large white house of Baroness Morenheim, where A.N. Prokudin lived that autumn. Everyone knew that he received the Holy Mysteries on this holiday, and now the whole city rushed to congratulate him. All our elders also went to Prokudin. The horses, of course, were not harnessed - from the window of our living room we could see the windows of the Morenheim house. My sister and I remained under the supervision of Madame Oliveira - Prokudin found this old Spanish woman somewhere in the Moscow slums, literally dying of poverty and hunger, and brought her to us so that my mother could nurse the old woman until she, under the guidance of our priest, Father Nikolai, joined the Orthodox faith. Madame Oliveira’s cherished desire was now to become a nun in the Maiden Convent next to our house. My sister and I sat next to Madame Oliveira and watched her, sighing constantly, sewing her endless patchwork quilt. Finally, having carefully folded the work, she said: “Shouldn’t we go for a walk to Morenheim’s house?” Maybe we can also congratulate Mr. Prokudin. Of course, we immediately agreed. Having reached the house of Baroness Morenheim, we saw that other children were already walking near it, some with a nanny, and some with a governess. We also began to slowly walk around the house. When the bell tower of a nearby church struck two o'clock, the glass door of the low balcony of the house began to move, but it was not Alexei Nefedovich who came out, but our family doctor Lindegrin, who was specially invited to see Prokudin that day by our father. Approaching the bars, Madame Oliveira quietly asked: The doctor, looking cheerfully at the old woman, just waved his hand: - Yes, he is healthier than all of us. They are waiting for death, but his pulse is smoother and stronger than anyone else’s. After this, please believe the predictions. And the good German, turning on one leg, respectfully bowed to Madame Oliveira, and blew each of us a kiss. Half an hour later, when we were about to return home, the door on the porch of the house opened and Alexei Nefedovich’s frightened, pale footman appeared. - For the confessor! – he managed to shout, jumping over the steps of the porch... Together with Madame Oliveira, we ran into the house. Alexey Nefedovich sat in a chair, leaning his head against the high back. His correct, noble face, which I still remember well, was completely calm. It seemed to be a baby asleep on its mother's lap. Maybe in Nizhny Novgorod or Sarov someone else remembers the death of Prokudin, this extraordinary man who so loved God and his neighbors. Then he will probably confirm and add to my notes. I don’t know if people in Sarov remember the prophetic word spoken by the great elder to his student and friend. In any case, it came true. From the “Notes” of Y.M. Neverov I owe my religious and moral development to the Sarov desert. The first manifestation of truly religious feeling happened to me in Sarov - and for what occasion. In the twenties of the nineteenth century - precisely during the era of my childhood and adolescence - the schema-monk Seraphim was still alive. Seraphim did not live in the monastery itself, but in the forest - and not only I, but hardly any of the visitors to Sarov could see him there, and although he had his own cell in the monastery, he came to it only once a week to receive the Holy Mysteries. I never saw him in church, but he always received communion in his cell, after an early mass, usually held in the hospital church of the monastery. At the end of the liturgy, the hieromonk who performed it solemnly, with the Chalice in his hands, accompanied by the entire clergy and all those praying in the church, went to the cell of Seraphim, who met the Holy Gifts, kneeling on the threshold of his cell - and upon the communion and departure of the hieromonk with the Holy Gifts, he distributed blessings to the visitors, many of whom brought him gifts of large prosphora, church wine, candles, oil and the like objects, which Seraphim accepted with gratitude - and the prosphora immediately crumbled into a huge wooden cup and, pouring red wine brought to him by visitors, he treated the audience himself, of which many accepted this treat with reverence, including my mother. When she met our new neighbors, the Kalmatskys, she, of course, invited them to go with us to the Sarov Hermitage next Sunday, which was readily accepted. Arriving on Saturday for the all-night vigil, we learned that Father Seraphim was at the monastery and the next day, as usual, he would receive the Holy Mysteries after the early mass. We went to church, and after mass in the procession - to his cell, and when he, having joined in, began to offer the public his usual treat - crumbled prosphora in a cup of wine, which he brought to the mouths of those present, scooping from it with a wooden spoon, then the newly arrived young lady Zasetskaya was extremely surprised by this original treat, and when Seraphim approached her and brought it to her In her mouth was a spoon with the food he had prepared, she did not want to accept it and turned away from him. The kind old man probably understood her resistance in such a way that she found it difficult to accept a very respectable-sized spoon into her mouth, and very naively told her: “And you use your finger, mother, use your finger!”, that is, put the spoon only to your mouth, and put what it contained into your mouth with your hand - but at this advice the young lady laughed, and after her I began to laugh loudly, so the venerable old man walked away she was perplexed, and she immediately left the cell; and since my laughter did not subside, despite all my mother’s efforts to stop it, she also took me out and received a strong scolding for my indecent behavior: I was left without tea and without dinner, and my mother announced to me that she would not forgive me until I received forgiveness from Father Seraphim, and I was sent to him after dinner. Of course, I went only at urgent request, and not according to an inner calling, and under the supervision of my mother, who was watching over me. Approaching the door of the cell, I found it locked from the inside and, as usual, loudly said a prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ our God, have mercy on us!” - which, as you know, in monastic language is tantamount to a request to enter, - to which they answered “Amen”, that is, “come in”, and they unlocked the door. Until that time, I had seen this cell filled with people, crowded to receive the blessing from Seraphim, and therefore I noticed only its front corner, lined with images with lamps burning in front of them, under the images there was a table on which candles lay, and under the table there were prosphora, bottles of church wine and wooden oil - and nothing more; Yes, of course, I was not interested in the cell and its furnishings, and not even in its owner, but in the audience crowded around him - but here I was alone in front of the elder, and a strange sight struck me: in the middle of the cell stood a coffin, and in the coffin sat the venerable elder Seraphim, holding a book in his hands. He addressed me extremely cordially and said: - Hello, my friend, hello; what do you need? “Mother sent me to ask your forgiveness for laughing at you just now.” “Mother sent you, well, thank your mother on my behalf, my friend, thank her on my behalf for standing up for the old man.” I will pray for her, thank her! These words were spoken in the most good-natured tone, but with some special emphasis on the phrase “mother sent you,” so that, internally aware of my guilt before the elder, I heard in them a kind of reproach, and therefore, wanting to receive forgiveness at all costs, I allowed myself to say: - No, it wasn’t my mother who sent it, but I came myself. - You came yourself, my friend - well, thank you, thank you! May God's blessing be upon you! - at the same time he called me to him and blessed me, saying: - Repentance and sin are removed - well, there was no sin here, Christ is with you, my friend! At the same time, he asked me if I read the Gospel? I, of course, answered - no, because at that time who among the laity read it: this is the work of the deacon. The elder invited me to take the only bench in the cell and sit next to him, and he, opening the book that was in his hands, which turned out to be the Gospel, began to read the seventh chapter of Matthew, the verse: “Judge not, lest you be judged; whatever measure you measure, it will be measured to you” - and then read the entire chapter. He read without any explanation and did not even make the slightest hint of my wrongdoing, but listening to him, I myself deeply realized my guilt, and this reading made such a stunning impression on me that the words of the Gospel were engraved in my memory, and, having taken out the Gospel, I re-read this chapter from Matthew several times and for a long time remembered almost all of it by heart. Having finished reading, Seraphim blessed me again and, dismissing me, advised me to read the Gospel more often, which I took to heart and began to do from that time. It is remarkable that neither in our house nor in Veryakusha 1 there was a Gospel, and in general in the circle among whom I spent my childhood, it was considered, if not a sin, then a profanation of the sacred thing to read the Gospel at home: for this they found it necessary to have a solemn atmosphere, since in church the Gospel was read by a priest or deacon during the service, and not by the clergy, and therefore they believed that it could not be read in family. Even in school 2, the teacher of the law, who sometimes occupied us with reading the lives of the saints, not only did not explain, but also did not read the Gospel to us in class, and only the charter of gymnasiums and schools of 1833 made it obligatory for teachers of the law to explain the Gospel to students on Sunday before mass, but this remained unfulfilled for a long time, and this order was not sympathized not only by teachers of the law, but also by bishops, so that I, being the director, had to yourself to accept this responsibility. As a result of all this, I could not immediately begin this soulful reading, but, vividly remembering the advice of the venerable old man, I used it later. During the scene I described in Seraphim’s cell, my mother was not present: she only watched from afar to see if I entered the cell, and waited for my exit in the monastery courtyard. Seeing me extremely excited when I approached her, she did not immediately believe my story and still attributed my excitement to the scolding that I, as it seemed to her, should have received from the elder; but from that time on, the deep respect that manifested itself in me for him and the desire to always be with him whenever we came to Sarov, and his always unusually affectionate behavior towards me completely reassured her later. Indeed, the first time, when after the described scene we went to him following the priest with the Gifts, I pressed forward to the elder, and what occupied me was no longer the crowd - as it had been before - but precisely Seraphim himself and his communion. As usual, he was kneeling on the threshold of his cell, and in addition to the hieromonastic mantle he was wearing an epitrachelion. When the priest approached and handed him the Cup, he reverently took it in his hands and began to read the sacrament prayer loudly: “I believe, Lord, and confess that You are truly the Christ, the son of the living God, who came into the world to save sinners, from whom I am the first.” At the same time, he bowed his head to the ground, holding the Cup above his head. Then, rising, he continued: “I still believe that this is Your most pure Body,” etc., and all this with such conviction and with such enthusiastic tenderness that I involuntarily knelt down, and every word of this prayer was deeply impressed in my soul. When, after the communion, I, among others, came up to his blessing, he so warmly turned to me with his usual treat - crumbled prosphora in a cup of wine - he patted me on the head and gave me a whole prosphora, which drew the attention of the entire crowd to me, since this was an unusual favor on his part. Since then, whenever I was in Sarov, I tried to get as close as possible to Seraphim, so as not only to hear him say the sacrament prayer, but also to admire his deeply inspired appearance and watch his every movement, which all made an amazing impression on me. Even to this day, when approaching communion and repeating the words of the sacrament prayer after the priest, I mentally see before me the majestic appearance of Seraphim with the Chalice in his hands - and, later being the director of the gymnasium, I paid special attention to ensuring that the students approaching communion clearly knew and understood this prayer. From the “Notes” of General Otroshchenko In the spring of 1825, my brigade from apartments in the Tambov province was assigned a trip to Moscow. I was in such a state that I could not get to Moscow without outside help. My good adjutant Mikhail Evgrafovich Protopopov sold a couple of his horses and lent me one hundred and eighty rubles. On the way to Moscow there is the famous Sarov rich desert. She previously had in her possession forty thousand acres of land with dense forests, but the district landowners took away half the amount. In this desert lived a pious man in seclusion, Father Seraphim; rumors about his holy life had already spread far, and many assured that, by the goodness of God, he already had a prophetic gift. Due to the reverent disposition of my spirit, partly out of curiosity, and most of all at the urgent request of my wife Natalya Mikhailovna, I decided to stay at the desert hotel for the night. It was no more than a mile from the main road. This monastery is surrounded from the south, west and north by a large forest, and on the east side two rivers flow in the valley. I stayed at a hotel. The title of general gave birth to the idea in the abbot that I was a rich general and that I would bring a general’s gift to the monastery, at least an important one. The abbot himself came to visit me and then some dinner was delivered, as can be seen from the belief that pilgrims like to fast when they come to worship. I asked about the reverend recluse Seraphim, expressed a desire to worship him; I was told that tomorrow after early mass I can see him. During mass, I asked my neighbor, a monk, what does the holy man accept as a gift? “A pound of wax candles, a bottle of wood oil and a bottle of red wine,” he said. After mass, having bought wine, oil and candles, that monk and I went to the recluse. The monk who led us had the key to the common door, for the recluse did not go anywhere from his room or even to church. Having opened the door, our counselor, approaching the recluse’s door, said a prayer of greeting, but received no answer; then he repeated it twice, adding that those passing by wanted to see Father Seraphim, but he also did not receive an answer. Then, turning to me, he said: “Would you like to respond yourself?” I answered that I didn’t know how I should respond. “Say simply: Christ is risen, Father Seraphim” (then it was the week of the Bright Resurrection). I went to the door and said that greeting, but also received no answer. Turning to his wife, who was holding gifts in her hands and was trembling with reverent feeling, coughing heavily (she was in the first half of pregnancy), he said loudly: “Well, my friend, you know, we have done a lot of mischief that the holy husband does not want to accept us. Let us leave our gift and set out on our path with regret.” We were about to go, when suddenly the door of the hermit’s cell opened, and he, standing in a white hair shirt, gave us a finger sign to go to him. From the first sight of him, I was overcome with a feeling of reverence for him. He seemed to me like an angel, an inhabitant of heaven: his face was white, like burning wax, because the variable atmosphere and the sun's ray could not act on him. Eyes of heavenly color, white hair hanging down to the shoulders. Judging by the shape of his body, it can be unmistakably said that he formerly had great physical strength; now meekness and humility were written on his face, however, he was not thin, on the contrary, he was even plump, despite the fact that his daily food consisted of one prosphora sent to him from the church. But he didn’t use all of it either: he crushed the remains into pieces, left them to dry and gave them to those who visited him. We entered his cell, and he immediately closed the door and put on the hook. On the left side of the door there were jugs and bottles of various sizes, empty, with oil and wine, and right there was a large tin bowl with a spoon of the same metal; on the left side, stones of various sizes were piled against the wall, on the right side there were logs of firewood and various old rags hung on a perch above them; in the front corner on a wooden shelf stood an image of the Mother of God and a lamp glowed in front of it. The windows were double and covered with various rubble between the frames and up to the top glass; for all the crampedness and untidiness in this small room, the air was completely clean. There was only a small path from the door to the image; but where the recluse slept was not visible. Having closed the doors, he told us: “Pray to God, and you,” turning to his wife, “light and place a candle in front of the image”; but she was trembling so much that she could not stick the candles. “Well, leave it, I’ll put it on myself,” he said, while busily busy preparing a treat for us. Taking out a bottle of wine from under the bench, he poured some into the bowl, then poured in some water, put a few crackers in it, took a spoon and said: “Speak after me.” He dictated a confessional daily prayer, began to treat us, giving mixed wine with water and crackers to one or the other with a spoon; the wine was so sour that even water did not soften the acid. My wife whispered to me that she couldn’t eat it because it was very sour. I said: “Father Seraphim, she cannot take acid, she is unwell.” “I know,” he answered, “that’s why I give it to her, so that she can be healthy.” Having given us three times each, he said: “Kiss.” We did it. Then he, turning to me, said: “You are in difficult circumstances, you are sad; but pray to God and don’t grieve, He will soon console you.” After that, he wrapped some crackers in a piece of paper and handed them to me, but I told him: “Holy Father, I have many acquaintances who know you in absentia and will be very happy if I deliver them the crackers I received from you.” He smiled and added, thanking us for visiting him, and released us with a blessing. Upon arrival at the hotel, I found a monk here with an image written on glass, who, giving me the image, said that this was a blessing from the monastery. When I gave him a ten-ruble note, he said: This word shocked my ears unpleasantly, and I almost gave the image back to him; but I resisted and said that I couldn’t do it anymore. I mentally said to myself: it would be better not to come here, then my poverty would not be exposed and the monks’ hopes of receiving a decent gift from me according to my rank would not be deceived; It would be better for me to mentally look at this famous place from afar and revere it. Now I am a sinner, because I feel contempt for the greedy inhabitants of this sanctuary, with the exception of only the holy man Seraphim, who, as I heard, strongly condemns the monks living here. Previously, this holy man lived as a hermit in the forests; but even there people did not give him peace. Considering him a saint, they came to ask him to pray for them. Some of the villains came and demanded money from him; but when he said that he had no money, they thought to force him to consciousness with severe beatings and, having beaten him half to death, left him where he was. The monks, having found him, took him to the monastery for healing. After his recovery, he chose another place in the forest and wanted to live as a hermit; but even then other villains attacked him and inflicted the same beatings on him. After that, he shut himself up forever in the cell where I saw him. The words he said to me and my wife came true. That same day, her cough and vomiting stopped, and upon arrival in the city of Ryazan, I received five thousand rubles of money, granted to me by Emperor Alexander I for a review in the city of Penza. Memories of Father Seraphim A.P. Eropkina I lost my parents as a child and was educated at the Smolny Monastery in St. Petersburg. At the age of sixteen I went to live with my uncle. In his kindness, he was a true father to me; Without at all constraining my will for my happiness, he soon decided to arrange my marriage. I myself, to tell the truth, was not without a pleasant appearance, I had the necessary education and fortune. Having noticed one young man with all the advantages in the surrounding society, I clung to him with all my heart. With a childish, vivid imagination, I pictured a future for myself in the beautiful features of patriarchal family life. The young man reciprocated. January 1829 arrived. I was then staying with my uncle in the same room with his two daughters and an outside young lady who was visiting us. Naturally, my happy future was always the subject of our conversation. One evening, after such self-flattering activities, we all went to bed. I don’t know about others, but I myself could not sleep soundly and remained dormant. Suddenly I see my uncle and some old man entering our bedroom. I immediately tried to cover myself with a blanket over my head. I hear my uncle approaching my bed with the old man and saying: “Here she is sleeping!” And the elder, in response to his words, remarks: “She is getting married in vain; her husband will live for many, many two or three months; How will it be for her to go from being an orphan to a widow, because it’s like going from the frying pan into the fire.” Then they left. I was afraid to open up, cried bitterly and began to fervently pray to God under the blanket for mercy on me. I was not in this position for long; A strong mental shock forced me to wake up, and when I regained full consciousness, I marked myself with a cross. Tears were flowing like a stream from my eyes. It was hard for me to wait until the morning until my friends got up. Only God knows what I felt then. My pale and tear-stained face gave me away, and my friends forced me to tell them everything. All the household immediately learned from them and tried to dissuade me of the truth of the dream. At first I objected a lot, but then they finally calmed me down, so that I was even ready to laugh at my gullibility. On February 8, 1829 I got married. There was no end to the joy and pleasure. But after a few weeks, my husband began to feel a change in his health. Weakening his strength little by little, he went to bed. We invited experienced doctors, had vigilant care for him, but he did not get any better; on the contrary, from day to day he seemed to fade. I was afraid to invite him to prepare for repentance and acceptance of the Mysteries of Christ, so as not to frighten him, and he, although he was very religious, was probably afraid to frighten me by inviting a priest. On May 10, the next day of St. Nicholas, my husband unexpectedly died. At first I didn’t even want to believe my eyes, but when I became convinced of the reality of the accomplished fact, I became unconscious. To die without being guided by the Holy Mysteries seemed to me like God’s punishment for the sins of me and my husband. After the funeral, my family and friends did not know what to do, how to calm me down; I was driven to madness from grief and despair. I don’t know how and from whom my uncle learned about the ascetic life and gracious gifts of the Sarov elder Father Seraphim, but he found the only way to deliver me from grief and illness was for me to go to Sarov to ask for prayers and instructions from Father Seraphim, despite the fact that the monastery was 500 miles away from us and spring was approaching. Having quickly got ready, I went to Sarov with the hope of finding consolation for myself and stayed at the monastery hotel. From the monks serving with her, I learned that, fortunately, Father Seraphim is now in the monastery and I can go to him. Without wasting a minute, I hurried to see him and get some relief from him in my grief. First of all, I was struck by the extraordinary sight. Between the Assumption Cathedral and the opposite one-story building, like a wave, a dense mass of people moved. From asking others, I learned that Father Seraphim lives in this very building. Then I mixed with the crowd and began to make my way to the porch, where everyone was also heading. With great difficulty, I entered the very cell of Father Seraphim and, following the example of others, extended my hand to receive his blessing. Blessing and handing me a cracker, he said: “God's servant Anna partakes of the grace of God!” Imagine my surprise when I heard my name, and looking at Father Seraphim straight in the face, I recognized him as the same old man who warned me in a dream against an unhappy marriage. Then, forced into the hallway, I felt several logs of wood near the wall with my feet and, standing up on them, began to look intently through the door at Father Seraphim. His angelic image, meekness in dealing with everyone showed him to be an extraordinary person. Watching all his movements, I soon noticed that he seemed to want to stop receiving people, and I heard the words: “Go in peace! Go in peace!” Then he took with one hand the bracket of the door where I was standing, and with the other, quite unexpectedly, he led me into the cell and directly said: “What, my treasure, have you come to me, the wretched one? I know that your grief is very great, but the Lord will help you endure it.” After a few consoling words, he ordered me to talk to them at their monastery, confess to Father Hilarion and receive communion. All this was accomplished. Regarding my late husband, the priest said to me: “Do not be distressed that your husband did not partake of the Holy Mysteries of Christ before his death; do not think, my joy, that because of this alone his soul will perish. God can only judge who to reward or punish with what. Sometimes it happens like this: here on earth one communes, but with the Lord remains uncommitted; another wants to join, but for some reason his desire will not be fulfilled, completely independent of him. In such an invisible way one is granted communion through the Angel of God.” Father Seraphim ordered me, upon my arrival home, to go to my husband’s grave for forty days and say: “Bless me, my Lord and Father! Forgive me for having sinned against you, and the Lord God will forgive you and give you permission!” During the same forty days, he ordered that ashes from the censer be taken from the church of God from the services being performed and then, having dug a hole two-quarters deep in the grave, pour the ashes into it and read the “Our Father” three times, the Jesus Prayer, the Mother of God and once the Creed. I told the elder about my intention to go home and my fear that the road would soon deteriorate, and he said to me: “My joy, do not be afraid of anything, God will give you a path; the snow will fall another half arshin, and you will go better than you came, and be here again on Peter’s Fast.” Indeed, on March 17, on the day of Alexei the Man of God, snow fell exactly as the elder had predicted, and I very conveniently made the return journey. After following the elder’s orders, it was as if I was completely reborn; There was such a peace in my soul that I had never felt since the death of my husband. So I spent two months in the village. Petrovka arrived, and at the direction of Father Seraphim, I went to see him again. The road was joyful for me then; I thought I was going to see my father. Upon arrival at the monastery, like a deer, I rushed to him in the forest, learning that he was there in the desert. With difficulty I could see that he was fidgeting in the water, taking out a large boulder from there and then, coming out of the water, he dragged it to the shore. At that moment I made my way through the people to him, and as soon as he noticed me, he greeted me with a cheerful face: “What, my treasure, you’ve arrived! The Lord bless you, stay with us.” Soon he began to send me and the people to the monastery, ordering us to hurry there, but no one wanted to part with him. Besides, it was a beautiful day and there was a lot of time left until evening. Having lingered for quite a long time in the forest, when we all reached out in a long, uninterrupted line to the monastery hotel, a terrible thundercloud appeared, and from the pouring rain there was not a single dry thread left on any of us. The next day, when I came to him, he received me very graciously and with an angelic smile said to me: “What, treasure, what is the rain, what is the thunderstorm? You wouldn't have fallen under them if you had listened to me. After all, I sent you on my behalf in advance!” Both now and later, Father Seraphim repeatedly honored me with conversations on various subjects for eight days, except Friday. On this day he remained silent and, as one must assume, was completely immersed in thinking about the suffering of Christ. When I saw a thick wax candle in front of the holy icons, he asked: “What are you looking at? When you were driving here, did you notice a storm here? She broke a lot of wood, and this candle was brought to me by a man who loves God during a thunderstorm. I, unworthy, lit it, prayed to the Lord God, and the storm calmed down.” Then, with a sigh, he added: “Otherwise, one stone would not have been left on another, such was the wrath of God against the monastery.” Subsequently, some said that the monastic loss extended to up to eleven thousand. Some other time, by the grace of God, I was privileged to hear from him a comforting story about the Kingdom of Heaven. I am now unable to accurately convey neither his words nor the impression made on me at that time. The look of his face was completely extraordinary. A blessed light penetrated through his skin. His eyes expressed calmness and some kind of heavenly delight. It must be assumed that, due to the contemplative state of the Spirit, he was outside visible nature, in the holy heavenly abodes and conveyed to me what bliss the righteous enjoy. I couldn’t keep everything in my memory, but I know that he told me about three saints: Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian, John Chrysostom, and in what glory they are there. He described in detail and vividly the beauty and triumph of Saint Febronia and many other martyrs. I have never heard such vivid stories from anyone, but he himself seemed to have not fully expressed himself to me then, adding in conclusion: “Ah, my joy, there is such bliss there that it is impossible to describe!” The story about Father Seraphim of sisters Ekaterina and Anna Lopukhin In 1832, our dear brother O. V. L. was sent to China to accompany the Spiritual mission. His road lay through Nizhny Novgorod, where our dear grandmother was the abbess at the Holy Cross nunnery. Wanting to visit his elderly grandmother, revered by everyone who knew her and even Father Seraphim, and to see us, his sisters, who were then living in Penza, still in the world, our brother called us to Nizhny Novgorod. He himself arrived there during the Holy Week of Great Lent, at the very muddy time, and had to wait here for a better path, especially since he fell ill from the bad road. During the last Turkish campaign he was wounded in the left arm, and now the pain in his arm returned and forced him to seek treatment and take baths. We, four sisters, having ardent faith in the prayers of the Reverend Father Seraphim, took advantage of this involuntary stop of our brother and began to convince him to go with us to the Sarov monastery in order to be worthy of seeing and receiving the blessing of Father Seraphim on such a long and dangerous journey. After many persuasion, he finally agreed, but not because he believed in the holiness of life and the foresight of Father Seraphim, whom, although he respected, he did not share our feelings for him, but solely for our peace of mind, out of love for us, since we constantly told him that only then would we be calm when he visited with reverence the elder we revered. On the eve of departure, my brother and I argued about holy icons. We called many icons miraculous, but my brother said that distinguishing between icons and calling some of them miraculous is superstition and that all icons are the same. We went to Sarov with the intention of staying there on Sunday or some holiday; we wanted my brother to see Father Seraphim for the first time in church, when he would receive the Holy Mysteries. Upon arrival, we all went to early mass, at which Father Seraphim usually joined; and when it ended, our brother entered the altar to receive a blessing from Father Seraphim there and convey to him a few words from our grandmother, the abbess, and from the Right Reverend Athanasius, who then ruled the Nizhny Novgorod diocese, and was later transferred to Tobolsk, where he died; We returned to the living room cell we occupied. The brother soon returned, and we noticed a great change in him. His first word was the realization that Father Seraphim had performed a miracle on him: “While I was conveying to Father Seraphim what my grandmother and the Eminence had instructed me to convey, he took me by my sore hand and squeezed me so tightly that I only cried out in shame, but now I feel absolutely no pain in my hand.” After the meal, we all went into the forest, to the desert of Father Seraphim; seeing him from afar, sitting opposite his source, they invited his brother to go to him alone, while they themselves remained in the distance to watch them. Father Seraphim blessed his brother and, sitting him down next to him, talked with him for half an hour. Finally, Father Seraphim, raising his head, made a sign for us with his hand to come closer. While we were approaching, he had already risen from his place, and we found him with a spade in his hands, digging his beds. He was in a white robe and tied with a rag; and his shoulders were covered with a piece of leather. We received his blessing, and when the brother also approached him, he told him: “Wait, father, I’ll come out to you now.” With this word, he went to his deserted cell and immediately took out half of the prosphora and, giving it to his brother, said to him with love: “On you from my soul.” And then he added, as if with sadness: “We won’t see each other again.” The touched brother answered him: “No, father, I will come to you tomorrow; bless." But Father Seraphim repeated: “We won’t see each other again.” The brother further objected: “Father, I’ll stop by to see you on the way back.” But Father Seraphim repeated for the third time: “No, we won’t see each other again.” Having said goodbye to Father Seraphim, we went to the monastery; the sisters walked ahead, and I, sinful Catherine, and my brother were a little behind them. Noticing a big change in my brother, I asked him the reason, and he answered me like this: “Now I am completely convinced of the holiness and insight of this wonderful man.” Everything you said about him is true, and you did not exaggerate anything. Before, he usually spoke of him like this: “I believe that he has a good life, but you are exaggerating everything too much.” I asked my brother to tell me everything in more detail, and he told me the following: “When I approached him for a blessing and explained that I was going to China and therefore deliberately stopped in Sarov to receive his blessing and ask for his holy prayers for such a long journey, Father Seraphim blessed me and, sitting down next to him, said: “What, father, is my sinful blessing? Ask for help from the Queen of Heaven; Here, in the warm cathedral, we have an icon of the Life-Giving Source; serve Her a prayer service; because she is miraculous, she will help you.” And then he continued with a smile: “Have you read, father, the life of Joannicius the Great? I recommend reading it. He was a military man, a very kind and good man, and at first it was not that he was not a Christian: he believed in the Lord, but he was mistaken about icons, just like you.” And with these words he pointed at me with his hand. I was amazed by these words. Father Seraphim continued after that to mercifully talk with me and give me instructions, especially so that I myself should be merciful if I want the Lord God to be merciful to me. In conclusion, he predicted that I would fulfill the task entrusted to me and return safely. From the desert we went straight to the warm cathedral: because my brother, inflamed with faith and love for Father Seraphim, wished to immediately carry out his advice and serve a prayer service to the Queen of Heaven. After the prayer service, he asked Hieromonk Anastasius, a friend of ours, for Cheti-Minea, found there the life of Ioannikios the Great and found that, indeed, Ioannikios was a kind and compassionate military man, that he believed in the Lord, but was mistaken about the icons, and, finally, that he found a reclusive elder like Father Seraphim, who led him out of his delusion. Thus, our brother left Sarov with full faith and love for Father Seraphim. He quit all his medications; because he no longer needed them. He felt healed both in soul and body and wrote to us from the road that he had never felt so healthy. Having fulfilled exactly, by the goodness of God and for the prayers of the righteous man, the assignment given to him by the August Monarch, he returned to his fatherland and wanted to once again visit Father Seraphim on his way back; but we notified him that the wondrous saint of God was no longer there. And thus his prophecy, which he told his brother when saying goodbye, was fulfilled: “We won’t see each other again.” We consider it useful to include here one more circumstance that happened to our brother and proves the gracious gift of foresight in Father Seraphim. Leaving Sarov, our brother instructed the above-mentioned hieromonk Anastasius to deliver one unimportant thing to Father Seraphim from his zeal. Father Seraphim, having received her, deigned to say about his brother that “he will be here again, but not alone; “I,” he said, “ordered him not to leave his wife.” “Father Anastasy conveyed this news to me,” says Ekaterina Vasilievna, “when I arrived in Sarov a few months after my brother’s departure; and I did not at all doubt the truth of the words of the righteous man, although my brother did not tell us anything about his intention to marry. Returning home, I wrote to my brother about what I had heard, and he answered us like this: “The wondrous Seraphim was not mistaken in this case either; he penetrated the secret of my soul; I chose according to my heart and made a firm intention to marry the one I chose.” Ekaterina Vasilievna also tells the following story about Father Seraphim: “On one of our visits to the Sarov monastery, my sister donated her diamond earrings to the image of the Dormition of the Mother of God. And in order to hide this matter, she handed them, in my presence, to Hieromonk Damascene, whom we knew, with a request to hand them over to the abbot and not to say anything to anyone. This happened at the porch of Father Seraphim’s cell. As soon as we entered the elder’s hallway, he met my sister, who had made the donation, with the most joyful look and with these words: “The Mother of God will reward you for your sacrifice, both here and in the future.” Since we were left completely orphaned after our parents and were too sad about this, the elder, among other saving instructions, always told us that he would console us, that he would pray for us.” And indeed, we now consider ourselves completely consoled, because the Lord God and the Queen of Heaven, for the prayers of Father Seraphim, vouchsafed us, two sisters, Catherine and Anna, to become one of the sisters of the Diveyevo community and to bring even the slightest contribution of our zeal to the benefit of this holy monastery. Memoirs of Diveyevo's sister Anastasia The first time I visited Elder Seraphim when I was still a child, together with my parents and the head of the Diveyevo community, Ksenia Mikhailovna. My mother had long wanted to see Father Seraphim, and we all went to him with complete faith. When they approached his cell, there were no people yet, and they said the Jesus Prayer as usual. Father immediately opened the door for us. He was dressed in a white robe, and his face seemed unusually bright. He told us: “Come here!” - and ordered to venerate the image of the Mother of God that stood on the table. Then we all bowed at his feet, and he, blessing us and allowing us to venerate the crucifix that hung on his chest, said to us: “The Lord, who is everywhere and fulfills all things, will not forsake you with His mercy; The prophet said: I have not seen the righteous forsaken, below his seed asking for bread.” After that, he himself gave us a particle of antidor with church wine and put a few crackers in Mother’s handkerchief. Finally he blessed again and said: “Come in peace.” The second time I was with him at the age of seven, with my mother and Diveyevo’s boss, Irina Prokopyevna. He also blessed us all and ordered us to venerate the image of the Mother of God; and since I could not reach the image that was on the table, he himself lifted me up and let me venerate the Queen of Heaven; and then he took my hand, put it in the hand of Irina Prokopyevna and began to talk to my mother about the prophet Samuel and other parables, and asked her: “Do you understand, mother?” She answered: I can’t understand, father. Then he blessed us all and sent us home. My mother, returning to the apartment, thought that all this was leading to my imminent death, and she cried all night. In the morning she again went with me to Father Seraphim, not daring to leave without saying goodbye to him. As soon as he opened the door for us and we bowed to him, without yet blessing us, he put his hand on my mother’s lips and said: “Not to that, not to that, mother, don’t be discouraged.” And he immediately gave her to venerate the image of the Savior that was on him. After that, my mother completely calmed down. When I was 12 years old and we came again to Father Seraphim, he asked my mother, pointing at me: “How old is she?” She answered: “The twelfth year, father.” Then he told her: “It’s time for us, mother, to betroth her to the groom.” My mother objected to this that I was still young. And Seraphim answered her: “You, mother, look for the widow and bow to her so that she takes her for her son; she will take it.” Mama smiled and thought that he was really telling her directly about my future fiancé. And he continued: “On the twelfth holidays, mother, give her some new clothes: a white dress and little red shoes. And at midnight, get up to pray yourself and excite your husband; don't excite her. When she matures and strengthens herself in strength and spirit, then she herself will be courageous for feat.” And from then on, whenever we came to him, he always remembered the widow. When I was 16 years old, then he directly told my parents about me: “She goes to Diveevo, to my monastery, to the orphans,” and for two years in a row after that he sent sister Anna Petrovna from the monastery for me, and every time we visited him (which happened three times a year), he kept telling me: “The Dormition awaits you; and there is no way for you, mother, to live with your parents; The Mother of God chose you for seven years, and they keep you with them.” He said this about my parents. He also asked my father, “that we certainly build ourselves a cell on a stone foundation; and so that only four people, no more, can live in it; “And the roof,” he said, turning to me, “you yourself, mother, cover it and nail it tightly with nails.” Once I told him that I was sorry to part with my sister, and he answered: “Then we’ll take her here too.” Then I began to feel sorry for my parents, that without both of us they would be even more sad. And so, when I was with him another time, he casually said: “And about the sister that we talked about, it seems to me that it’s better to leave her with her parents for now; let him live to console them,” and, handing me the prosphora to give to her, he added: “Tell her, mother, that poor Seraphim sent this to you.” Since then, we have not begun to feel sorry for each other as much as we did before. When they brought my three-year-old brother Ivan to him, he took him from the nanny’s hands and, handing him to me, asked: “Do you have a garden?” I told him that there is. Then he said: “You, mother, carry him around the garden and keep saying: Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy. He will mature and become our desired treasure; but feed him yourself, from your own hands.” Once, when I was with him in the hermitage, he sent me to a spring so that I could drink and wash myself from it, saying that this spring heals diseases. Then, pointing to the surrounding land, in the direction where Diveevo is, he said: “The Queen of Heaven herself chose this place for you, and no one can take it away from you. So I’ll make you a hut, and you’ll walk around it, collect hay, and rest here. You will have plenty of bread and potatoes; and there will be their own churches; and the Church Rule will be the same as in Sarov, as the Holy Fathers gave it to us. The Queen of Heaven will help you in everything; and I, poor Seraphim, always bend my knee for you, and for your parents and relatives.” Finally, when he began to resolutely ask my mother to quickly set up a cell for me and let me go to Diveevo, my mother began to cry and said: “Now we will let her go, father, with hope in you; and if you are not there, then maybe they will all disperse.” To this he answered her: “No, mother; and before me there were Father Pachomius and Father Isaiah, who took care of them; now I, poor thing, am worried; and after me, the same old man will take care of them.” Sending me to the monastery, he told me, among other things, the life of the Monk Macrina and added: “Here, mother, she herself went to the monastery and admonished her brother Vasily. He was a pillar of the Church, and when he was in teaching and became proud against Sister Macrina, she brought him into humility with her chastity.” My mother, having great faith in Father Seraphim, asked him for his blessing to copy his portrait. But he answered her: “Who am I, wretched one, to write off my appearance? They depict the faces of the Divine and Saints, but we are sinners.” When she convincingly asked him not to refuse her, according to her faith, he said: “This is in your will and according to your zeal!” Memoirs of Diveyevo Elder Evdokia I had a married sister who lived in the village of Alamasovo. One day, when she got sick, she told me to visit her. I immediately went to our boss Ksenia Mikhailovna to get her blessing for the journey. But the boss told me that I should first go to Father Seraphim and do as he blessed. I set off, but became confused along the way and debated for a long time whether I should go to Father Seraphim or not? Well, if he doesn't bless? And finally I decided it was better not to go to him, but to go straight to my sister. And in order to at least somewhat calm the conscience that tormented me, I fell to the ground, and mentally kissed the hands and feet of Father Seraphim, and kissed his copper crucifix, which he always wore on his chest. At the same time, I imagined that he, as usual, blessed me and gave me crackers for the journey. Having calmed myself down in this way, I went to my sister in the village of Alamasovo. Having stayed with her for quite a long time and leaving her to recover, I returned to my monastery in the most anxious state of mind, because I left without a blessing, without permission. But as soon as I entered the monastery gates, one of our sisters, Ekaterina Egorovna, met me and told me that during my absence twice visited Father Seraphim and that each time he told her about me. The first time he said: “Before you, I had Evdokia Glukhinkaya; she asked to go to the village of Alamasovo, to see her sick sister, bowed to me to the ground, kissed my hands and feet and kissed my copper cross, I blessed her to go and gave her crackers for the road.” The second time he only asked in advance: “What, mother, Evdokia Glukhinkaya, has she returned from Alamasov?” - and then continued the same thing he said the first time: “She was with me on such and such a day and hour, and I blessed her to go.” At this story, I could not help but cry, both from the consciousness of my guilt and from the joy of finding in Father Seraphim such kindness towards me, a sinner, and such a gift of insight. Memoirs of Diveyevo Elder Matryona I once came to the desert to Father Seraphim in worldly clothes, like a wanderer. I did this because my elder sister did not want to let me go to Sarov except in rags, in order to avoid the condemnation of the Sarov elders, who reproached us for the fact that we had already gone to Father Seraphim too often. For me, it didn’t matter what dress I wore to go to Father Seraphim, just to be with him more often and listen to his sweet conversations; He blessed me to live in Diveyevo and consoled me in every possible way so that I would not leave the monastery, which I sometimes thought a lot about and was embarrassed. When I came to my father in this form, he, as if not recognizing me, despite the fact that I, perhaps, visited him more often than all the sisters, began to ask me: “Who are you, mother? Where?" I answered him that I was a sinful Matryona of Diveyevo; and he, as if not listening to my words or not recognizing me, again repeated the same questions: “Where are you from?” “I’m from Diveyevo, father,” I answered. “It’s the first time I’ve heard of it,” he objected. With these words, Father Seraphim seemed to be completely abandoning me. Then I fell at his feet and cried bitterly, thinking, how can I live now, when Father Seraphim himself does not recognize me? But all this was only my test on his part, and also a punishment for the fact that I, a sinner, was always jealous of those sisters whom he consoled in front of me. He did not hesitate to lift me up and, like the most tender father, said: “Get up, my joy, get up! But don’t I know who I’m taking in? It seems to me that you are Spasskaya Matryona! I ask you: where are you from? that is: which province? and you keep saying: Diveyevo, from Diveyevo; So I didn’t recognize you.” Then, after a pause, he asked me: “Tell me, my joy, which of the three is better and more useful: consolation, prayer or conversation?” I answered him: “I don’t know, father, but I didn’t stop crying,” but he said to me: “You are prudent, mother, you know everything, but you don’t want to answer poor Seraphim.” I said: “Prayer, father, is most useful.” And he responded to this: “You, mother, answer wisely.” Then he began to tell me as a consolation, so that under no circumstances should I leave the monastery, even when he is no longer in the world: “To us, mother, the Queen of Heaven herself has granted this land on which you live. The Mother of God interceded with the Lord for her; and I, poor Seraphim, asked the Queen of Heaven; so no one will take it away from us. We, mother, will have our own cathedral. Our land will have its own flocks, sheep, and waves. Why should we, mother, be sad? We will have everything of our own. The sisters will both plow and sow grain; and you, like a complete housewife, cut off as much bread as you like, go to the cellar, salt it, and eat for your health. Both widows and young women will come to us. But we, mother, have special feelings from widows. They judge us completely disgustingly. The maiden delights only in the sweetest Jesus, contemplates him in suffering, and is all free in spirit in serving the Lord; and the widow’s memory is all worldly: how good our dead man was! What a kind man he was, they say. The last words were also a prediction of what happened to me that same day. Having said goodbye to him and receiving his blessing, I returned home and met in the monastery, at a general obedience, with one widow living with us, and she, talking to me, constantly repeated the words of Father Seraphim: my deceased was a very kind man, how he took care of me, etc. Memoirs of the priest of the village of Diveevo, Father Vasily Father Seraphim personally commanded me the following rules: 1) It is inadmissible to serve in the chapels in the name of the Nativity of Christ and the Nativity of the Mother of God on all twelve holidays and Sundays; sometimes on Saturdays and other days, according to reasoning, or at the request of benefactors, and on the occasion of the death of the Diveyevo sister, for the repose of her soul. 2) On Sundays, before the liturgy, be sure to sing the paraklis of the Mother of God and the canon, all in a chant, “in order,” he added, “so that no troubles befall you; and if you leave this to be done, then you will get into trouble without trouble.” 3) Read the Psalter every day in church to the twelve sisters of Diveyevo, alternating every two hours, and read it aloud without fail, “because,” he said, “it is said: he will give joy and gladness to my hearing,” and he added: “The very angels rejoice when they hear the reading of the Psalter,” and continue this reading of the Psalter throughout the year, except Easter. 4) The Diveyevo sisters must not fail to commune with everyone during all holy fasts; and for some, if desired, on all twelve holidays. 5) Sing and read to the sisters in the choir. 6) To preserve the sacristy and maintain all church property in general, as well as to add the position of sexton to “church girls,” that is, to selected reverent sisters. 7) Before the image of the Savior, the candle and lamp will burn unquenchably; and in front of the image of the Mother of God there is a lamp. Memoirs of the head of the Ardatov community, Mother Evdokia One day one of the sisters of our monastery came to Father Seraphim to receive his blessing and fatherly advice. The elder, fulfilling her wish, gave her a gold coin among other things and said: “Bring this to Mother Evdokia; after all, the cereal will be expensive: twenty rubles a quarter.” The elder's prediction was indeed soon fulfilled. A famine year has come on our side, and everything has risen in price unusually; but for the prayers of Father Seraphim there was no poverty in our monastery, and we thanked the merciful Lord. Before another hungry year, I myself visited Father Seraphim; Having been received favorably by him, she asked him for saving advice on how to manage the monastery entrusted to me in a godly manner, and among other things also complained about our poverty. The elder, having listened to my requests and complaints patiently, said: “Mother! In order for your subordinates to be kind and obedient, you yourself should humble yourself in advance and set a good example of kindness. Seeing your life, your subordinates will willingly imitate it. Read the life of Savva the Sanctified more often, and from it you yourself will learn patience. God himself will compensate for your shortcomings.” With these words, he handed me a silver ruble and said: “This is for clean bread. And this,” he added, unfolding and handing me a blue note, “is for a cookout (that is, for porridge). But, noticing my inattention to the banknote, he took it back and, having smoothed it out, he himself began to wrap it in my scarf, saying: “Why neglect it like that, you need to be more thrifty; there will be a need, and money will be needed.” Indeed, soon after my visit to Father Seraphim, we heard about widespread famine and deprivation of all kinds. Our monastery, to the surprise of everyone, despite its poverty, during the entire famine, with the help of God and with the blessing of Father Seraphim, constantly ate pure bread, while others ate bread with quinoa. One day we were in need of food and I, as the boss, suffered more than anyone else, being preoccupied with finding funds to feed my sisters; but everything I came up with was in vain; All our benefactors at this time seemed to have forgotten us and did not listen to our requests. In this spiritual sorrow, I announced to all the sisters that, unfortunately, the contents of the monastery had become poor and that there was only enough flour and bread left for two days, and I asked the sisters to fervently pray to God for our mercy. At the same time, she suggested sending one of the sisters to the Sarov Hermitage to Father Seraphim to ask him for guidance and consolation in our grief. The sent sister did not find Father Seraphim in the desert; but, having learned that he was in the forest, at work, she hurriedly went there, and, finding him there, fell at his feet, with bitter tears, and began to ask him for blessings and prayers for our distressed monastery. But the perspicacious old man, not heeding her request, angrily forbade her to complain about her misfortunes and, driving her away, said: “You bow unnecessarily, mother, you bow unnecessarily.” Having thus received no consolation, the sorrowful sister returned to the monastery and with tears told us how Father Seraphim received her and how he forbade her to complain. There was only one hope left in God, and we spent the remaining two days in this hope and sorrow. On the third day, it really turned out that we were crying needlessly about our fate. The providence of God, for the prayers of his saint, sent us unexpected and most timely help: we received from an unknown benefactor a very sufficient amount of flour and thanked the merciful God. In 1832, I also visited Father Seraphim for advice and blessings. He received me with complete love, like a father, and among other things said: “Evdokia! We need to teach the sisters to sing.” I answered him: “Father! Our sisters are already singing.” To this he objected: “They sing, but they don’t know how to drown.” And he added: “Soon you will have a church.” I, a sinner, hearing such a prediction, when we still had no hope of building a church, suddenly thought: “It’s true, we will be transferred to the Church of Elijah the Prophet.” Father Seraphim saw my thought and, as if reasoning with himself, asked: “Is it far from you?” And he himself immediately answered to dissuade me: “There will be famine there.” I thought again: “Or maybe they’ll transfer us to Napolnaya.” But Father Seraphim objected to my thought: “It will be covered with snow there.” Then I dared to ask him directly: “Father, where will we have a church?” Father Seraphim responded to this: “Be silent for the time being. It will not be arranged by you, but the will of God will descend from above; big people will come into your position and build a church, and if you bother, they will rebel against you.” Indeed, soon after this wonderful prediction, the Lord God, for the holy prayers of Father Seraphim, sent us a benefactor in Mr. N. Once, while in our community, he asked me why we don’t have a church. I answered him in the simplicity of my heart: we are waiting for the will of God, according to Father Seraphim, who told me: “When great people come into your position, they will build a church.” Mr. N. immediately said: “I’ll take it on.” We all fell at his feet and asked him not to leave us with his mercy. Since then, he has become our benefactor, not only for the church, which through his care is reaching the end, but for everything, for the prayers of Father Seraphim. Another time, when I was with Father Seraphim, he casually asked me: “Are you coming to my monastery, mother?” That's what he always called Diveevskaya. I answered him: “I stopped by, father.” “Did you see the ditch?” – he asked. “I saw it, father,” I answered. “I ordered them to dig this in defense,” he said, “they have the land of different masters (at that time the Diveyevo monastery really did not have a single piece of its own land). The gentlemen will come together,” he continued, “one will say: this is my land; and another: this is my land; and when they look at the ditch, it will be in their defense, and they will say: “God be with them! Let’s not touch them, let them live.” Memoirs of mother, abbess of the monastery in the city of Sviyazhsk Before Vespers, God vouchsafed me to visit Father Seraphim in his cell, and with joy I forgot everything I had intended to talk about with him. By the way, I decided to ask him for instructions on how to save myself. And so, as soon as this thought flashed in my head, he already answered me: “Don’t be too embarrassed; live as you live. God himself will teach you.” And again, bowing to the ground, he added: “I ask you only one thing: please, make all decisions yourself and judge fairly; This is how you will be saved.” Being then still in the world and not at all thinking about going to the monastery, I could not imagine what such words of Father Seraphim were leading to. He, continuing his speech, told me: “When that time comes, then remember me.” When I said goodbye to him, I thought that maybe God would bring us to see each other again. But the elder answered my speech: “No, we are already saying goodbye forever, and therefore I ask you not to forget me in your holy prayers.” When I asked him to pray for me, a sinner, he said: “I will pray, and now you come in peace; They’re already grumbling a lot about you.” And indeed, my companions met me at the hotel with a strong murmur, and I immediately remembered the words of Father Seraphim. Finally, having entered the monastery and, by the inscrutable destinies of God, having been awarded the rank of abbot, I remembered all the other instructions of Father Seraphim, spoken to me in the prophetic spirit; and now my whole life is unfolding exactly as the elder predicted for me. Memoirs of Abbess Pulcheria, abbess of the monastery in the city of Slobodsky, Vyatka province In 1830, as promised, I took a trip to Sarov, by water, along the Volga. During this journey, near Nizhny Novgorod, I felt unwell, and my illness (tumor throughout my body) soon became so severe that I had to stop in Nizhny Novgorod for four weeks and wait here for either recovery or death. The hospitable nuns of the Nizhny Novgorod monastery sheltered me, and with the consent of Abbess Dorothea, I was already given farewell instructions beyond the boundaries of this world. But, having a firm faith in the saving power of Father Seraphim’s prayers, I with tears more than once asked him to pray in absentia for me, a sinner, so that the Lord God would extend my life, albeit only for a short time, so that I could visit Sarov and receive his last blessing. God heard my prayers; My health improved somewhat, and despite the swelling throughout my body, I decided to continue my journey. On the way, I again had to stop for two weeks in the Alekseevskaya Arzamas community, out of complete exhaustion. In addition to swelling and relaxation, my whole body turned yellow, and it was obvious that I was suffering from dropsy. Two weeks later, again feeling a little relief, I continued, albeit through strength, my path, and finally, with the help of God, I reached Sarov. The next day, after early mass, at the appointed time we entered the elder’s cell vestibule, and among the many visitors I saw one man weeping bitterly. Father Seraphim gave him a severe reprimand for something, and when he wanted to give him something, the elder answered: “Now I won’t accept it, now I won’t accept it.” I was also preparing, out of zeal, to present the elder with a towel of my handicraft, but, having heard the last words, I did not dare to do this, hid my gift and walked away to the door. So what? Having parted the crowd of visitors, Father Seraphim approached me with a smile and silently extended his hand. Then, out of joy and surprise, not knowing what to do, I handed him a towel, and he, taking it, wiped himself with it three times and said: “Come, my joy, follow me.” Having brought me to his cell, he blessed me and gave me prosphora with holy water, and then said: “Tomorrow we will see you.” Upon returning to the hotel, I found that my illness, which seemed to have disappeared for a while, had returned to me again. The next day, after early mass, Father Seraphim went to his hermitage, and we had to go there to receive his blessing. I forcibly followed my companions. We sat at Father Seraphim’s cell for about an hour, waiting for him to come out, and we all read the Jesus Prayer to ourselves. Finally, he came out to us in a half-robe, with a lit candle in his hands, and began to bless everyone who approached him in turn, saying to each one something for the benefit of his soul. After everyone else, I went up to him, and he, looking at me, said: “You, mother, are very unwell,” and then, blessing, he continued: “Go wash in the spring and get drunk, and you will be healthy.” I answered him: “I already drank, father, and washed my face when I came here.” To this he said again: “Mother, take water from the spring with you, drink and wash, and wash your body, the apostles of Christ will heal you, and you will be healthy.” When I said that I had nothing in which to take water, he took a small jug out of his cell and repeated his previous words both at this time and when I returned with water. Returning to the hotel, I immediately followed exactly all the instructions of Father Seraphim without any fear, without fear of drinking water in case of water sickness. And the Lord God, through the prayers of his righteous man, performed a miracle on me, a sinner. To the surprise of everyone, especially those who forbade me to wet my body with water, saying that dropsy did not like it, I got up the next morning completely healthy and had changed so much that those who had seen me in the evening could not recognize me in the morning. All the water that was under the skin and formed my imaginary fullness flowed out, through which the tumor destroyed itself, the yellowness disappeared from the face, the pain completely subsided. In a word, it was as if I had been reborn. Just before I set off on my return journey, Father Seraphim sent me and my two companions, along with a blessing, each a symbolic sign; for me - a stick with a hockey stick; the other is a stick with four branches; and the third - a simple stick. We did not understand the meaning of these symbols then; but the consequence showed how much significance there was in each of them, and how much insight there was in Father Seraphim. I, unworthy, entered the monastery and now bear the abbot’s staff; another with two sons and a daughter - all four took on the monastic image; and the third - one also entered the monastery. Thus, the Lord God justified my firm faith in the miraculous power of the prayers of the righteous, in the edification and shame of those who do not have faith. Memoirs of Mother Platonida, nun of the Simbirsk Monastery of the Savior Not Made by Hands Suffering from severe rheumatism in one side of the head, face and ear, I did not receive relief from any medical benefits for a long time. Finally, on the advice of my relatives, I decided to go to Arzamas to see a well-known doctor there and consult with him about my painful illness. But first I wanted to come to Father Seraphim of Sarov to get his blessing for treatment. I lived in Sarov for five days, and although during this time I came to the elder’s cell four times a day, I could not see him; I don’t know why, he shut himself up then and didn’t accept anyone, and this was the reason for my inconsolable grief. Finally, my desire was fulfilled, and I was honored to see the Elder of God alone, in his desert. Falling at his sacred feet, I asked for his blessing and permission to be treated. But the elder said to me: “No, don’t be treated,” and, pointing his hand to the sky, he added: “Here is the one who will heal you.” Then he ordered me to wash myself from the spring. I haven’t washed my face for about three years, throughout my illness, fearing that touching water would cause me to get an even worse cold. But now, out of faith in the words of the righteous elder, without any doubt, she washed herself and at first felt terrible pain. Then he ordered me to drink this water, and I had to again endure the most excruciating pain in my face and teeth. The Lord God seemed to be testing my weak faith to the end. Finally, the elder, placing his hand on my sore cheek, said: “Before the Assumption, God will calm you; Come in peace." I immediately felt my pain begin to subside, and after that it never returned. Letting me go and blessing me with the cross hanging on his chest, he said: “Don’t grieve that you haven’t seen me for a long time; he created a memorial for the deceased nun.” Meanwhile, I didn’t say a word to him about how I cried and grieved without seeing him for five days. When, at parting, I asked him if I could hope to see him again someday, he answered, pointing to the sky with his hand: “I’ll see you there; It’s better, better, better.” And sure enough, I didn’t see him anymore: our date was five months before his death. Two years before, in the month of October, I was also in Sarov, with Father Seraphim, together with my sister P. When my sister brought her children, a little son and a fifteen-year-old daughter, to him for blessing, the elder, blessing them in a fatherly manner, turned to the girl and said: “This is how great, wise and generous our Lord is; he ordered Tobit to set off and assigned an angel to him. An angel accompanied him and married him. Wonderful are the works of the Lord!” We could not understand then the prophetic words of the elder. But in February of the following year, Mrs. P.’s daughter completely unexpectedly got married, having found herself a husband worthy in all respects. Her parents did not imagine giving her, as their only daughter, to marry so early; but then they remembered the prophetic words of the wondrous old man and thanked God for his mercy. Memoirs of the hieromonk of the Sarov Hermitage Savvaty, in the schema of Stefan I was the spiritual father of two girls: one young, from a merchant rank, and the other, already elderly, from the nobility. From her youth, she burned with love for God and wanted to devote herself to the monastic life, but her parents always opposed this. One day both girls came to Father Seraphim for blessings and saving instructions. A girl from the nobility decided to take his blessing to enter monasticism. But Father Seraphim began to advise her to get married, saying: “The marriage life is blessed by God himself, mother. In it you only need to observe fidelity of marriage, love and peace on both sides, and you will be happy. But there is no way for you to become a monk. Monastic life is difficult and not bearable for everyone.” He himself blessed another girl to become a monk and even named the monastery she was entering. Having listened to his advice, the girl from the nobles was so offended that she completely lost interest in the old man, and at first she also swayed me. I didn’t understand why the elder was distracting a girl, already elderly, who had been striving for monasticism from her youth, from the path of salvation, and how did he bless the young girl? But soon it really happened as the perspicacious old man blessed and predicted. The girl from the nobility, no matter how much she burned with love for the monastic life, entered into marriage at an advanced age, and, despite this, she was completely happy in her married life and had a strong faith in Father Seraphim, who blessed her with this path of life. And the young girl actually entered the monastery into which the perspicacious elder blessed her. Memoirs of Father Raphael, Hierodeacon of the Sarov Hermitage In 1827, upon my arrival at the Sarov Hermitage, I saw Father Seraphim for the first time when he walked from his cell to the hospital church for early mass. At that time he was leaning on a crooked oak stick, and I liked this stick so much that since then I have always thought about how to get me this stick as a souvenir from such a great old man. Almost two years after that, in 1829, on January 21, I came to Father Seraphim to receive a blessing from him for the journey, because Father Superior had sent me. The elder, without saying anything, left his cell in the hallway, took out from the closet the stick I had long desired and, giving it to me, said: “This is yours forever.” Having received such a precious gift from him, I treasured it for more than twenty years. In the summer of 1829, when I was still a novice, I once thought about Father Seraphim and marveled that such a wonderful man lived in the world at the present time and that our eyes could see him. I’ll go to him, I thought, into the desert and look at him to my heart’s content, although from afar, so that the memory of how I saw him will remain in me forever. After that, I actually went into the desert to Father Seraphim and, not reaching the source of the old man thirty fathoms, I saw him with his back turned to me and cultivating the ground with a hoe. Suddenly, not yet seeing me, he throws down his hoe, turns to face me, runs towards me, falls at my feet and says: “My joy! I, a great sinner, have been honored to kiss the feet of the Queen of Heaven.” I picked him up and said with tears: “Father, tell me how it was?” But he did not answer my question and began to talk about something completely different. Moscow tradesman Vyacheslav Andreev Pl. he told me the following about himself: I never thought, he said, of getting married and was always surprised by those people who take on such a responsibility. At one time it happened to me to go from Ryazan to Arzamas. On my way, I stopped at the Sarov Hermitage and there I first heard about Father Seraphim. Let me go see him, I thought, will he tell me something too? Thus I came to the elder, and he first of all blessed me and gave me three crackers, saying: “Here, this is for you, this is for your wife, and this is for your son.” At first I did not believe the elder’s words: but, having arrived in Arzamas, after a while I actually got married and, according to Father Seraphim’s prediction, I have one son. Memoirs of Father Theoktist, hierodeacon of the Ufa Assumption Monastery According to the vow I made during a serious illness that visited me while I was still living in my parents’ house, I set out in 1825 to travel to holy Russian places, together with my elder sister (now the abbess of the Ufa Convent) and other pilgrims. During this journey, we visited, among other monasteries, the Semiezernaya Hermitage, not far from the city of Kazan, and were received here with complete love by Elder Savva. The elder, telling us about the exploits of the ancient great ascetics and famous Orthodox monasteries, drew our special attention to the Sarov Hermitage, to the severity of the life of its ascetics, to the exploits of the hermit of the hermitage, Hieromonk Seraphim. This story aroused in us a strong desire to see both the desert itself and especially Father Seraphim. We immediately went to Sarov and arrived there on the day of the Intercession of the Mother of God. When we came to Father Seraphim the next day, he blessed us, honored us with his fatherly instructions and, among other things, advised the sisters to talk, and directly told me: “You stay here.” Such unexpected words greatly shook my soul. It was not so much the monastic feats that frightened me, although they also seemed inconvenient to me because of my poor health, but the separation from those close to my heart and the eternal separation from those under whose roof I grew up and separation from whom I always considered the first misfortune. No matter how many objections I presented to the elder, he did not change his words, so that in my soul, instead of the first delight, the most painful feeling of imminent separation from my parents and, as it were, a feeling of the harsh monastic life awaiting me, settled in my soul. But that same day the elder again repeated the same words to me: “You stay here.” And when I referred to the weakness of my strength and poor health, he said: “They will lay the burden according to their strength.” On the last day, when we intended to leave the Sarov hermitage and came to Father Seraphim to receive his blessing for the journey, the wonderful old man once again turned to me with fatherly advice to stay in Sarov and at the same time asked my elder sister to convince me to fulfill his desire. I just couldn’t make up my mind, and when my companions left, I again approached the elder with convincing requests to bless me on the journey to Kyiv. My persistence finally forced the elder to tell me: “Well, come when you don’t want to obey the wretched Seraphim.” Having received this, albeit forced, permission, I flew to the hotel, where my companions were waiting for me, with the joyful news that Father Seraphim had blessed me for the journey. Thus, we all set off from Sarov and had our first rest six miles from the desert, at the monastery mill, where we were warmly received by Father Jacob the Armless. As for me, this stop was painful for me, I wanted not to walk, but to fly forward, and I repeatedly reproached my companions for their slow journey. The enemy, contrary to the elder’s saving advice, tried so hard to remove me from Sarov. But God's Providence destroyed all his machinations. Approaching the village of Alamasov, which is located six miles from the mill, I suddenly felt such a strong relaxation and internal and external heat throughout my body that I absolutely could not go any further. Fearing sudden death and tormented by my conscience, I asked my companions to lead me straight to the priest of that village; but since he was not at home, we had to find an apartment for ourselves in this village. My illness was constantly increasing, and with it the torment of my conscience was growing, realizing how dangerous it was to neglect the advice of experienced elders and follow my own will. Upon the priest’s arrival home, they communed me with the Holy Mysteries of Christ and on the fourth day of my illness they consecrated me with oil. Meanwhile, my sister, seeing my hopeless state, went to the Sarov Hermitage asking for help. Then the treasurer ordered me to be placed at the monastery mill with Father Jacob Bezruky, and advised my sister to live in the Diveyevo community during my illness. Two weeks after I moved to the monastery mill, my strength gradually began to strengthen, and I began to walk with the help of a stick. Now I only prayed to God for recovery and promised to immediately then fulfill the will of God told to me by the elder. By the grace of God, I recovered and immediately appeared in the Sarov hermitage in order to adopt a monastic way of life there. They accepted me and first assigned me obedience to the monastery alarm clock. One day, in October 1829, my elder, to whom I was in obedience, left for his homeland. At this time, shortly after his departure, I suddenly felt pain and weakness in my right leg: some kind of bluish spot had formed on it. The next day of illness, at night, there was such a pain that I could no longer walk; and on the third day, instead of a bluish spot, an abscess the size of a chicken egg formed. My situation was the most painful: I suffered as much from unbearable pain in my leg as from the fact that I could neither get out of bed nor call anyone to help me. The Lord God was pleased, for my testing, to allow no one to visit me at this time. In such extremity, in despondency and even despair, I turned with a prayer for help to our wonderful intercessor, Father Seraphim, and began to constantly repeat to myself: “Father, Father Seraphim, pray for me.” I repeated this prayer for a long time, and suddenly the Lord God, through the prayers of Father Seraphim, performed a miracle on me, a sinner, and suddenly healed my leg, and I got out of bed, walked through the cell to the door and no longer felt any pain. My first duty after that was to light the lamp and thank the merciful Lord for my healing. Since that time my leg has become completely healthy. One Sarov monk, my fellow countryman, decided to go to his homeland, and he began to convince me that I should also ask to go to my homeland, to meet with my relatives, and we would go together. For a long time I did not want to agree with him, imagining that the abbot would not let me go and that I did not even dare to ask him. But the persistent requests of my fellow countryman forced me to finally give him a promise that I would ask tomorrow. This was from Saturday to Sunday. The whole night I was occupied with thoughts about the upcoming trip, about meeting with my family and about how to beg the abbot for leave. The next day I was at early mass and at the end of it I went to the cathedral to read the memorials. When I was returning from there to the Church, where early mass was being served, behind the antidoron, I suddenly saw Father Seraphim not far from the church, and he shook his finger at me, saying: “I am you!” Alarmed by this threat, I stopped and began to remember if I had any thoughts against the elder, and in bewilderment I looked at him again and saw again the same threat with the words: “I will!” Finally, for the third time, when I, completely embarrassed, looked at the elder, he repeated the same thing: “I love you!” - and added: “There is no way for you!” It was then that I realized that the elder, with his threats, did not deign to allow me to go to my parents’ house, about which I cared so much that night. I decided not to go, and soon the elder’s prohibition was indeed justified. After several weeks, my fellow countryman returned to Sarov from the road and said that he could not get to his homeland, because cholera was raging everywhere on the road, and that he spent all this time in Kazan, where he and all his companions had to endure a strict quarantine, suffer a lot of losses, and even more troubles. This is how the perspicacious old man turned me away from a useless trip, while in the desert no one had ever heard of cholera. Memoirs of Father Vasily, monk of the Nizhny Novgorod Pechersk Monastery In 1825, my father, a peasant of Countess Yulia Samoilova, Vladimir province, Murom district, village of Zyablitsky churchyard, went with his two young children, me, six years old, and my brother Kirill, to the Sarov hermitage to pray and receive a blessing from Father Seraphim. We arrived there on the eve of the Feast of the Exaltation of the Precious and Life-Giving Cross of the Lord and the next day, after early mass, we went to Father Seraphim. The godly elder, blessing us, told my father about me that I would not be his breadwinner, and asked him to buy the Gospel for me; and about my brother he said that he would live with his parents and help them. Since then, my father and mother often reminded me of this prediction. In my fourteenth year, I wanted to verify for myself the words of the perspicacious old man and for this purpose I asked my parents for permission to visit the Sarov desert, from Father Seraphim; this was in 1832. When I came to the elder and wanted to ask him about my future life, he himself, warning my words, told me: “My joy, you should enter a monastery.” When I answered him that I was a man of the lord, he said: “Come; The Mother of God will help you, and the Countess, your landowner, through the intercession of great people, will set you free.” With this comforting prediction and with the blessing of Father Seraphim, I went home. Having reached the age of seventeen, I finally received consent from my parents to enter monasticism and, while still a man of the lord, entered the Sarov hermitage. After two years, the abbot of Sarov, Father Nifont, blessed me, as having proven myself capable of monastic obedience, to apply for my release from serfdom. This prompted me to go to St. Petersburg, and here the Providence of God directed me to apply to the rector of the Sergius Hermitage, Father Archimandrite Ignatius 3, to request the dismissal I so desired. The good abbot immediately agreed to my request and soon, indeed, got me this dismissal. Upon his introduction to Father Nifont, I was accepted in the Sarov Hermitage as a novice, and from there I moved to the Nizhny Novgorod Pechersky Monastery, where I am to this day, under the protection of the Queen of Heaven. Thus, the prediction of Father Seraphim was fulfilled exactly. My husband and I wished to see the godly elder Seraphim and went to the Sarov hermitage; but upon arrival there they did not find Father Seraphim in his monastery cell; he was in the forest, working in the desert. We went there, and soon the elder himself met us. He immediately turned to my husband with the words: “This is what, father, the prophet David writes: Lord, love the beauty of your house, and the place where your glory dwells. It’s good, Father, to decorate the Churches of the Lord.” Father Seraphim said this out of the gift of foresight, seeing how my husband loved to decorate the churches of God. After that, Father Seraphim invited us to his monastery cell, and we began to ask him for his blessing to travel to Moscow to his landowner in order to work for manumission, or at least for the master to dismiss my husband from the position of manager. But Father Seraphim, having listened to our words, took my husband by the hand and, leading him to the Icon of the Tenderness of the Mother of God, said: “I ask you, for the sake of the Mother of God, not to refuse your position. Your management is to the glory of God: you don’t offend men. Don’t listen to anyone who will talk bad about you or your wife, but there is no way for you to go to Moscow; and here is your path: I blessed one manager - he is asking to be released after the death of a master who, during his lifetime, bought himself an estate in Niza and sent him to accept it and arrange it. When that gentleman died, the lady set the manager free and gave him a power of attorney to manage the estate, such that she did not entrust herself to him.” Father Seraphim told this parable about my husband, to whom everything really happened later that he predicted several years before it was fulfilled. My husband had the following strange illness. As soon as he catches a slight cold, blood immediately rushes to his face, his veins become tense, his nerves, especially his nasal ones, become unusually irritated, and he first feels a strange tickling in his nose, and then begins to sneeze incessantly. This debilitating sneezing continued for him sometimes for a whole day, and sometimes for two, and completely killed him. Moscow and Nizhny Novgorod doctors advised him to be treated for this dangerous disease and predicted that my husband might develop a polyp over time. But since my husband had no time to take his treatment seriously, the illness soon became very severe. Then we decided to go to Sarov to see Father Seraphim. Upon our arrival, the elder, having blessed us, immediately took a bottle of water from the stove, ordered my husband to bow his head and began to pour water from the bottle himself, then ordered him to wash himself with this water and handed him a towel from his neck so that he could wipe himself with it. Since then, my husband’s illness was completely over, and he lived another seven years. Father Seraphim, blessing us one day on our return journey home from Sarov, said to me: “Here, mother, a man and two women came to me and began to say a prayer; I didn’t let them in, and when they started knocking on the door very loudly and I had nothing else to do, I went to bed.” And then he added: “Do you understand this, mother!” After that, upon our arrival at the Gostiny Dvor, we found there some Nizhny Novgorod official who had arrived in Sarov with his wife and began to beg me to go with them to Father Seraphim, saying that they did not dare to go alone and thought that Father Seraphim would not let them in. My husband also asked me to go with them. We went and, upon arriving at the porch of the cell, we heard that Father Seraphim was doing something in his entryway. As usual, I said a prayer. But Father Seraphim did not answer the usual “Amen” and did not unlock the doors. My companions began to ask with effort, but he remained silent. Then the man began to loudly knock on the doors, and then we heard that Father Seraphim had gone to bed at the very door where we were standing, and after a few minutes he began to snore. Only then did I understand what man and two women he was talking about when he said goodbye, and we were forced to go home to the hotel without seeing the old man. In the last year of my husband’s life, I was in Sarov, in the desert of Father Seraphim. I found him there, collecting wood chips, near the shaft, on the road. Noticing me, he called me to him and said: “Here, mother, the Holy Fathers blessed me to collect these wood chips for the Diveyevo orphans; winter will come, it will be necessary to light their stoves.” Then, taking me by the hand, he led me along the road to his ridges, where onions and potatoes were planted, and said: “And here, mother, is my wealth; this is how I live; your husband’s wealth will go into other hands; but don’t be sad about it.” Indeed, a few months later my husband died, and the rest everything happened as the wondrous old man predicted. One day I was very sick with my stomach and began to undergo treatment; but since there was no benefit, I came to Father Seraphim and told him about my illness. To this the elder answered me like this: “If you, mother, continue to be treated, then soon, soon you will finish your belly. Bear this illness in silence, and it will pass as soon as you stop being treated.” At the same time, he added: “When you go to the Queen of Heaven, you won’t see anyone there!” With Seraphim’s blessing, I stopped being treated, and my illness was truly over. After that, I went to the village of Pemets, where the miraculous icon of the Mother of God is located; and at the apartment where I happened to stay, I saw an old woman who was bandaging her wounds, which covered her entire body. In the morning, going to mass, I saw a new terrible patient: they were leading one girl, relaxed, swollen and shaking with all her limbs. Then I involuntarily remembered the words of Seraphim, which at first seemed incomprehensible to me: “When you go to the Queen of Heaven, you will not see anyone there.” Once I was with Father Seraphim with my sister, who was married to a priest, but was widowed. The elder, blessing my sister, said to her: “Your life, mother, is blessed until your dormition.” To this my sister answered him: “Forgive me, father, for Christ’s sake: I keep sinning, quarreling with my parent because he, having given up his place to my brother, still lives with me.” Father Seraphim objected to her: “Who, mother, should you live with if not with your parent.” The sister answered him: “Father, I have a son who is now finishing his course, and I have hope for him.” But Father Seraphim again objected to her: “No, mother, there is no hope, there is no hope.” And indeed, my sister’s son soon died. Once, while in Sarov, on Sunday, after late mass, I went to Father Seraphim, and he, blessing me, asked: “Have you, mother, been to mass?” I answered: “It was, father.” Then he asked: “Did you see there how we buried one woman at the cathedral? I just came from church. Our father, the abbot, made her a good coffin. Do you understand this, mother?” – and he repeated his question several times. I thought that he was probably predicting my imminent death, and with these thoughts we went home. On the way, I stopped in the village of Soboleva, which belongs to the Pokrovsky parish, to visit my dear aunt. But here, to great regret, I heard that my aunt had recently died and she was buried on that same Sunday, after mass, on which I was with Father Seraphim and he told me about the deceased. Her father, the archpriest, made her a coffin, out of zeal at his own expense, and buried her in the cathedral. Then I understood the wonderful insight of Father Seraphim. This same archpriest had no faith in Father Seraphim before, but when I told him about the elder’s last prediction, he wished to see him in person. And so, as soon as he arrived in Sarov, he entered the cell of Father Seraphim, when the elder greeted him with a priestly kiss and the words: “May the Lord God and the Protection of the Mother of God bless you, father (he called him by name), and then named all those saints in whose name seven chapels were built in the Intercession Church. From that time on, the archpriest always had great faith in Father Seraphim. Once I brought wax candles to Father Seraphim, he immediately asked me: “Are you, mother, going to Diveyevo?” I answered him: “Bless me, father; I’m taking three icons there.” Then Father Seraphim said: “So, by the way, take the candles there too; prayer will still go for you.” Then he said: “Do you, mother, know bees? When the queen sits in the hive, the bees are around her. This is how the girls in Diveyevo always stay with the Mother of God.” To this I told him: “Oh, father! How happy these girls are that they are always with the Mother of God.” Then the priest objected to me: “Why be jealous of girls; and it is good to be a widow; Anna the Prophetess was a widow, but was it really bad for her? And you love my girls, honor them and don’t wait for them to follow you, but look for them yourself.” A few years after that I became a widow; and from Diveevo, Irina Prokopyevna sent my sister to me with a letter in which she invited me to the monastery. Then I remembered the words of Father Seraphim: “Don’t wait for my girls to follow you, but look for them yourself,” and I decided to enter the Diveyevo community. Memoirs of the wife of the manager of the village of Elizariev (Nizhny Novgorod province, Ardatov district) A.I.M. My husband, N.K.M., having lost his position as manager in the village of Elizaryevo, soon received the same position in the village of Cherevatovo, Ardatovsky district, and here he became severely ill. This was in 1822. Knowing my devotion to Father Seraphim and his favor towards me, he sent me to ask for his holy prayers and blessings and to ask: can he hope for recovery or not? I went to Sarovo and upon my arrival there I found that Father Seraphim had closed himself off and was not receiving anyone. I made my way through the multitude of people who were waiting for Father Seraphim to leave, to his cell, and suddenly the Elder of God, as if foreseeing my extreme need to see him, appeared at the door of the cell and, not paying attention to the rest of the people, turned to me: “Daughter of Agrafena, come to me quickly, because you need to hurry home.” When I approached him, he, warning my words, gave me holy water, antidor, red wine and several crackers and said: “Here, quickly take this to your husband.” Then, taking my hand, he put it on his shoulder and, letting me feel the chains that were on it, said: “Behold, my daughter, at first it was hard for me to wear this; but now it’s very nice. Hurry now and remember my heaviness; Goodbye". With these words, he blessed me and went back to his cell, where he again shut himself up and did not receive anyone. Upon arrival home, I found my husband in his last minutes of life; he had already lost his tongue. Then I remembered the elder’s chains and realized that he had predicted mourning for me. As soon as I gave, on the orders of Father Seraphim, the sick man red wine with antidor and then holy water, the sick man spoke again and said: “Forgive me, Holy Father, this is the last time I receive a blessing from you.” After these words, he blessed our children, said goodbye to me and said: “Great are the deeds of Father Seraphim!” – lay down again and peacefully went to the Lord. On September 14, 1824, I was honored to be with Father Seraphim and receive a blessing from him. I came to him with the purpose of asking him about my brother, who was in military service and had not notified us about himself for about 4 years. Before I had time to say a word about my intention, the elder, warning my words, said: “Don’t be upset too much: there is mourning in every kind.” When I began to tell him about my brother, he answered me: “I can’t help but tell you about this, so that you remember him for his repose.” His foresight really paid off. Three months after our conversation, I received news from the regiment where my brother served that he was no longer in the world. In 1825, my sister and I visited the Sarov hermitage for the first time, with a fiery desire to see Elder Seraphim and receive his blessing. My sister was the first to see him, after Matins, and was delighted with his affectionate reception. I couldn’t see him with her because I wasn’t at Matins due to a severe headache. At the end of mass, we both went to the pious elder’s cell. On the way, I noticed that my sister’s servant was carrying two bottles behind us, and I was curious to ask my sister what he was carrying? The sister replied that she wished, following the example of other visitors to Sarov, to bring some church wine and oil as a gift to Father Seraphim. I, not knowing about this before and not having with me at that time anything that I could bring as a gift to Father Seraphim, was very sad. But the sister, seeing my embarrassment, invited me to take one of these bottles and offer it to the elder from herself. I was very happy about this offer. We came to Father Seraphim’s cell, and when I looked at the righteous elder, I no longer wanted to look at anything else in his cell. I could not take my eyes off his face, in which kindness, humility and holiness breathed. He received us as the father of children, gave us prosphora and red wine, took off his cross and let us kiss it. The sister gave him a bottle of church wine that she had brought, and he accepted it very graciously and blessed his sister. Then I gave him a bottle of oil. The elder, taking it also graciously, suddenly said to me: “Go ahead, if you decide, mother, what to bring me, then bring your own,” and, noticing how embarrassed and confused I was from these words, he immediately added in the most meek tone: “I wanted, mother, to tell you that if you live in a village, then there are probably bees there; So you would order candles to be made from wax; then it would be yours.” After that, he began to talk with us about the benefit of our souls, spoke a lot about the Christian path of salvation, and every word of his was imprinted on our hearts. The story of the yard man V.A. about the healing of his wife A. 1826, April 6, during a holiday in the village of Elizaryevo, my wife, the courtyard woman A.A., came from mass, had lunch and then went out with me outside the gates of our house for a short walk. Suddenly, God knows why, she became faint and dizzy, so that I could hardly bring her to the entryway. Here she fell to the floor; she began vomiting and terrible cramps in all members; Finally she completely died. She remained in this terrible situation for about half an hour. After she had somewhat come to her senses, she began to grind her teeth, gnawing everything that came to her hands, and then fell asleep. The next day she felt better, and when her mother asked what happened to her yesterday, she answered that it seemed to her as if the manor’s house was collapsing on her, and even now everything around her seemed horrifying. Two days later, this unfortunate state repeated with her again, then a month later, and did not stop for a whole year, repeating itself every day, so that they began to consider her possessed. At first, at the request of our village manager N.P., she was treated by the district doctor A.Ya., but when all his efforts were unsuccessful, another doctor from Ardatov was called for treatment, but after three weeks of careful treatment, he refused further work, saying that he had never seen such a disease and that this disease was somehow incomprehensible. Finally, through the efforts of the manager, who took sincere interest in the patient, Doctor M was called from the Vyksa factories. But this one, having examined the patient, said that her illness was incomprehensible, and that, probably, an evil spirit was playing pranks here, which he did not undertake to expel, and that he advised not to torment the patient, trying to treat her with human means, but rather to resort to God’s help. Despite this advice, we still tried to help her with simple means, but they were all in vain: the patient was close to death. On May 20, 1827, at night, on the eve of the holiday of Tsar Constantine and his mother Elena, the patient suddenly saw that some unfamiliar old woman, of average height, dry, blond, but cropped, round-faced, with closed eyes, barefoot and all dusty, was entering her room and said to her: “Why are you lying and not looking for a doctor for yourself.” Frightened by this extraordinary phenomenon, the patient protected herself with the sign of the cross and began to read: “May God rise again,” etc. Then the unknown woman said to her: “Don’t be afraid of me, I wish you well and health; I love this prayer and rejoice when anyone reads it.” The patient asked her: “Who are you? Isn't it from the other world? And didn’t you see my boy there?” The unfamiliar woman answered her: “I saw it; he is angry with you; however, there is no need to talk about him, but you need to think about yourself. Why don’t you care about healing?” The patient answered: “I had many doctors; but no one could help.” To this the stranger replied: “I will find you a faithful doctor who has long wanted to heal you; he deliberately asked me to go to you. Hurry quickly to the Sarov Hermitage to Father Seraphim; he can help you." After this the vision disappeared. Then the patient decided to wake up her mother, but she was not sleeping and heard her daughter’s conversation. When everything was quiet, her mother asked her who she was talking to. The daughter was surprised that her mother did not see the woman who sent Seraphim to her father and said that he would help. The mother accepted the story coldly and said that when it was easier, then she could go, and soon fell asleep. Meanwhile, soon my wife again saw an unfamiliar woman who reproached about the delay, because Father Seraphim was waiting for her and thought that she would be there soon. Then the patient dared to ask her who she was and where she was from? The woman answered her: “I am from the Diveevo community: the first abbess there is Agafya.” Having said this, she disappeared again. My wife immediately woke up her mother and began to persuade her to ask the manager for a cart for the trip to Sarovo. The mother immediately, although it was early dawn, went to the manager, told him everything and asked for a cart. The manager immediately agreed and told that he himself had seen Father Seraphim in a dream at night, how he took care of some sick woman and held over her the cross he wore on his chest, and how the sick woman after that left him completely healthy. Soon my wife and mother went to Sarovo. At the entrance to the Sarov Forest, my wife, for the first time since the illness that deprived her of hearing, heard the ringing of the Sarov bell and, to the surprise and joy of her mother, said: “Mama! “Chew, they’re announcing mass.” They arrived at the monastery at lunchtime and found the brethren eating, and learned about Father Seraphim that he had locked himself in his cell and was not accepting anyone. Meanwhile, there were so many people gathered around his cell that it was impossible to reach it. Then the mother turned to one monk and asked him to take them to the hermit. The good monk immediately led them through the crowd and, leaving them in the vestibule of the cell, went to the elder. But Father Seraphim got ahead of him. As soon as the monk said a prayer at the entrance according to monastic custom, the elder came out to him and said: “Bring the grieving Alexandra here quickly.” The monk returned to the petitioners, ordered them to go, and, at the mother’s request, he himself helped guide the sick woman. As soon as they entered Father Seraphim’s cell, my wife broke free from their hands with extraordinary strength and haste and threw herself at Father Seraphim’s feet. Then the elder covered her with his stole and read a prayer over her; and then, taking her head with both hands, he lifted her up a little. My wife felt at that time as if someone had noisily torn off her fur coat, and she felt as if she had been intoxicated. Finally, Father Seraphim, having given her holy water and antidor, ordered her to venerate the cross that hung on his chest and the icon of the Mother of God standing on his table and said: “Here is your Intercessor! She interceded for you before God.” Having thus received a complete recovery and realizing the greatness of the benefit shown to her by Father Seraphim, my wife regretted that she did not have anything with her then that could reward her benefactor. But he, seeing her thoughts, said: “I don’t need anything from you; pray only to God. If you want to give me something, then spin me a little thread on three days, on three Wednesdays, and twist them into three heels, abstaining from food, drink and talking during these six days; and also read the Lord’s Prayer three times every time you start a task, and read the prayer to the Mother of God continuously for all six days.” After that, he blessed them and sent them home in peace, urging them not to grieve anymore. The story of the peasant M.B. of the village of Avtodeev, Ardatovsky district, Nizhny Novgorod province In 1826, I decided to go to the Sarov Hermitage on a pilgrimage and to receive the blessing of the great elder Father Seraphim. But just before leaving, on the eve of the Feast of the Ascension of the Lord, I suffered such a severe blow that I completely lost my memory. I didn’t recognize anyone, not even my parents, and like crazy they brought me to the Sarov Hermitage. Here one of the novices of that monastery, who had previously been a soldier, from the datochny of our village, took me under his protection and took me to Father Seraphim. Wonderful are Your works, O Lord! As soon as we began to approach the elder’s cell, I already felt relief in myself: memory and understanding gradually began to return to me again, and I remember everything that Father Seraphim said and did to me at that time. First he blessed me and drew a cross on my forehead with oil from a lamp; then he gave me two handfuls of crackers, and finally, he himself showed me the three-fingered fold of the cross and said: “God is merciful! Pray to him like this; Over time, all this will pass.” And indeed, a little later after my return home, I became completely healthy, through the prayers of the saint of God, Father Seraphim. Perm province, Yekaterinburg district, I just don’t remember which plant was managed by D. Iv. personally told me (when I, being a cab driver in Diveyevo in 1844, took the Diveyevo sisters there): when he was with his family at Father Seraphim’s, the elder not only called them all by name: himself, his wife and children, having not heard of any of them before, but even predicted the time of death for each, the year, month and day and appointed him to live twenty years, and his wife - twelve. His wife actually died at the very time that Father Seraphim predicted for her. I heard the following story from one of Diveyevo’s sisters, E.M.Z. In the world she was married to one gentleman who served in the Zlatoustin factories, and while her husband was still alive she was in Sarov with Father Seraphim. She decided to test the elder, and she asked him: “Father! Bless me to enter the Diveyevo community for the salvation of my soul.” Father Seraphim answered her like this: “No, mother, wait! First, live with your husband, and when he dies, then work for your churches for another ten years with prosphora; Then you’ll save your husband from torment.” But she objected to him: it is unknown, father, which of us would rather die, my husband or myself. To this the elder replied: “No, mother, your husband will die in three years.” Which is exactly what happened. After three years, her husband died and left behind a large debt, which she paid off in full and thus, presumably, saved him from torment. After that, indeed, she was a prosphora for two churches; and finally, seeing that all the predictions of Father Seraphim were coming true for her, she decided to visit him again and again ask for his blessing to enter the Diveyevo community. But this time the elder did not bless her, but ordered her to live in peace. When she told him that she had to live among young people, then Father Seraphim touched her with his hand and said: “The Lord is merciful! Although young people will seduce you, nothing bad will come to your mind.” Thus, she remained in prosphora for about ten years and underwent this obedience with such zeal that it seemed that she wanted to remain with him forever. But finally, ten years later, the Lord God really led her to enter the Diveyevo community, as Father Seraphim had predicted. The appanage peasant G.D.S. also told me in the Nizhny Novgorod province of the Ardatovsky district of the village of Bolshoy Cherevatov that one day in 1848, during cholera, he went with his uncle and his little son to the village of Okil of the Temnikovsky district for bread, and when he arrived in the village of Korova for the night, he suddenly felt all the signs of cholera in himself. The police officer who was in the village offered him some medicine. But he, relying solely on the will of God and on the prayers of Father Seraphim, did not take this medicine, but decided to go to the source of Father Seraphim. Here, calling a righteous man for help, he washed himself, took a bath and drank water from the spring. And from this I suddenly felt such relief within myself that it was as if I had never been sick; his appetite was revived again, whereas before that time everything seemed bitter to him and he could not eat anything. Regarding the source of Father Seraphim, I heard the following story in the Sarov desert. One day they brought a possessed woman to this source, who was tearing her hair, tearing her clothes and screaming terribly. They began to pour water from the source on her, and she shouted: “Let me in, let me in, the monk tortured me!” Despite the fact that they continued to pour water on her until she fell asleep peacefully. Waking up after a while, she became completely healthy, protected herself with the sign of the cross, drank water from the source herself, and from that time until now her previous seizures have not returned to her. In the same village of Cherevatova, the wife of the peasant Terenty Plotnikov told me that Father Seraphim predicted her entire subsequent fate: how many years she would be unwell while married; when he will recover and how he will then fall ill again, how he will generally endure the bitter lot of being married and who he will finally give birth to; and that all this really came true. Memoirs of priest A.N. In May 1829, the wife of the peasant Vorotilov, Anastasia, became dangerously ill, and her husband, who had great faith in the power of the prayers of Father Seraphim, immediately went to the Sarov hermitage to the elder to ask him for St. prayers for the desperately ill. He arrived in Sarov around midnight and immediately went to the monastery cell of Father Seraphim, believing that he would receive him. Indeed, the elder, notified, no doubt, by God, was already waiting for him on the porch of his cell and greeted him with the words: “What, my joy, hastened at such a time to the poor Seraphim?” The peasant told him everything and asked for his holy prayers. But the elder answered him: “She must die from this disease.” But Vorotilov fell with tears at the feet of the elder and begged him to pray for the return of life and health to his wife. Seeing such sincere and complete faith of the peasant, Father Seraphim then plunged into prayer for about ten minutes and, after this time, again opened his eyes, shining with heavenly joy, and, raising Vorotilov, who was lying at his feet, said to him: “Well, my joy, the Lord will give your wife a belly; Come in peace to your home." Vorotilov immediately went home and learned that his wife felt relief precisely in those very moments in which Father Seraphim was in a feat of prayer. Soon the peasant woman recovered. I myself happened to be with Father Seraphim, and he, having greeted me according to priestly custom, predicted to me, among other things, that I would be honored with the rank of dean, and at the same time gave me instructions on how to carry out the duties of this rank. Subsequently, indeed, among other archpastoral favors, the position of dean was entrusted to me, as the perspicacious elder predicted. Memoirs of Mrs. Seraphima K. In the city of Ardatov, Nizhny Novgorod province, M.E.K.’s eleven-year-old son Andrei became so seriously ill with his eyes that he could see almost nothing at all. He was ill for nine months, until his parents decided to turn to Father Seraphim, whose godly life was widely known, for help. When the mother of the sick youth arrived in Sarov (which was on August 3, 1829), Father Seraphim was at that time for some reason in seclusion and did not receive anyone. But the mother of the sick man, despite the fact that many visitors who wanted to receive the elder’s blessing and had lost hope in it, were leaving Sarov, decided to wait until Father Seraphim came out of his seclusion again. She waited five days. Finally, Father Seraphim opened the doors of his cell again for everyone. Having invited the sick youth and his mother to him with the words “Come, come” and blessing them, he began to blow into the sick man’s ears and eyes and at the same time protected his head with the sign of the cross. Then, once again blessing the sick man, he told him: “You will be healthy”; and finally, when the sick man left his cell, following the prediction of recovery, he predicted to him the name of his future wife; it was he who told him: “You will be married to Seraphim.” And he said to his mother: “It is a sin not to honor the holiday,” revealing with these words what she sinned on the way to Sarov. As soon as they left Father Seraphim’s cell, the sick man immediately felt the power of the elder’s prayers and blessings; he saw the light of God again; and after a month he became completely healthy. The fulfillment of Father Seraphim’s prediction to the sick youth regarding the name of his future wife was justified when I, Seraphim, became his wife. Memoirs of Tambov tradesman I.T.T. Having already had three daughters since our marriage, but not having a single son, we earnestly prayed to the Almighty for this; but no matter how much we prayed, no matter how much we asked for the holy prayers of people living according to God, the Lord did not listen to our prayers. Finally, we decided to go to the Sarov Hermitage to see Father Seraphim, who was then known throughout Russia for his godly life, insight and power of prayer to the Lord. At the same time, we wanted to look at my own brother, the Sarov monk John, who had not yet seen my wife, but his daughter-in-law. Upon arrival in the Sarov Hermitage, we stopped at a hotel and tried to first see our brother, whom we were incredibly happy about, and explained to him the reason for our arrival. The brother told us that God does the will of those who fear and listens to their prayer; he asked us to have only faith in the prayers of Father Seraphim, and promised that according to our faith, everything would certainly be for us. The next day, my brother and I went to Father Seraphim and found him in the forest, in a swamp, where he was collecting moss. As soon as we approached him, he blessed us and asked his brother: “Are these not your relatives?” And when the brother answered him in the affirmative, he turned to us and, like an Angel of God, with all meekness, said, pointing to his brother: “Give thanks to the Lord God for what he has chosen from your family to serve himself.” At that time, my wife fell at the feet of Father Seraphim, as she had been taught by her brother, and mentally asked his holy prayers to intercede with God for a son, and I could not restrain myself from tears. The words of the elder touched me to the depths of my soul, because he, not knowing me at all and not even finding similarities between me and my brother (since he is completely different from me), foresaw in spirit that we were relatives. My heart was inexpressibly glad that the Lord blessed our family by choosing my brother to serve Himself. The elder’s words awakened my conscience and reminded me that my younger brother and I tried very, very hard to hinder our brother in his desire for the monastic path. Then it became completely clear to me why the Lord God had hitherto punished me and my younger brother with his righteous anger. Father Seraphim, protecting my wife, who was lying at his feet, with the sign of the cross, said to her: “The Lord will bless you; your wish will come true.” After that, he gave her water from his source, ordering her to drink it, and blessed us on our way back. Some time after that, indeed, my wife was delivered of a son, and we thanked the Lord God and his holy saint, Father Seraphim, fully believing in his insight and the power of prayers before the Lord. Memoirs of Mrs. N. P.L. Once I was honored to be with Father Seraphim, along with others who came to him for a blessing. Father Seraphim blessed me and, speaking instructions to me in the words of the psalms and the Holy Gospel, several times during the conversation he touched my left side, in which I had felt for about five years some kind of illness that was causing me unbearable suffering. But I didn’t dare talk about this illness or bother Father Seraphim. Imagine my surprise when, upon arriving home, I no longer felt any pain and since then, thanks to God and His great ascetic Father Seraphim, I have felt completely healthy. Memoirs of the book. E.H.E. My cousin V.N. was very ill with seizures and was afraid of any shrine with which they approached her. Medicines didn't help her. Finally she was brought to Sarov to Father Seraphim. The elder gave her some crackers and told her to wash herself in his spring. Since then, her illness has completely passed, and she lives happily with her children. Memoirs of Major General A.E.M. According to the desire and faith of my wife, I once went with her to the Sarov hermitage to receive a blessing and take advantage of the edifications of Elder Seraphim; and immediately upon leaving the carriage, leaving my wife at the hotel, I went to the deserted cell of Father Seraphim, where one Sarov hieromonk showed me the way, saying that Father Seraphim was there. On the road, the elder himself met me, walking from the desert to the monastery. I approached him for a blessing, and he, having blessed me, ordered me to follow him to his monastery cell. Upon arrival there, Father Seraphim shared Christ with me and graciously asked: “What do you want, father?” I answered him that I came here with my wife on purpose just to see him and receive his blessing; then he asked his permission to bring his wife to him. Father Seraphim ordered us to come to him the next day, after early mass, and also asked me: “How long will you stay here in the monastery?” I replied that we intended to leave tomorrow, that is, on Saturday, after lunch; however, he added, we rely on your will, as you bless. Then he said: “The day after tomorrow, on Sunday, after hearing mass, go; We will have a celebration and prayer service in our monastery.” With these words I went home and, telling my wife about the meeting with Father Seraphim, asked her what holiday the day after tomorrow would be. She replied that it seemed there was none, except for an ordinary Sunday. “But of course,” I objected, “Father Seraphim said that the day after tomorrow, on Sunday, there will be a celebration and prayer service in the monastery. Was there, perhaps, some memorable event in their monastery on that day? Or he predicts something.” I addressed this question to another monk who was then in the hotel, but from him I also heard the same thing, that the day after tomorrow, besides an ordinary Sunday, there is no other holiday. The next day, Saturday, after early mass, we came to Father Seraphim. He received us very kindly, allowed us to venerate the copper cross hanging on his chest, gave us crackers and again repeated his previous words: “Tomorrow at our monastery there will be a celebration and prayer service, and you, without having heard mass, do not leave.” This repetition surprised us even more and left us in extreme misunderstanding. After we left Father Seraphim, my wife went home, and I, having examined everything that was memorable in the Sarov Hermitage, went to Father Abbot Nifont and among other things asked him: what kind of celebration and prayer service will you have in the monastery tomorrow? He answered: there will be no celebration. At this very time, the monastery servant, who had returned from the post office, entered our room and handed Father Superior a package of letters. Father Abbot opened it and first of all saw between the letters a Decree, which contained the news of the birth of the Grand Duchess and the order to send a prayer service of thanks to the Lord God on this occasion. Thus, the prediction of Father Seraphim came true. The next day, a thanksgiving service was performed in the Sarov Cathedral Church, and throughout that day a solemn bell was heard throughout the monastery. Father Abbot Niphon then shared with me his surprise at Father Seraphim’s gift of foresight. Memoirs of Prince Nikolai Nikolaevich Golitsyn From the first day of my acquaintance with Father Seraphim, I always saw in him a true man of God, filled with high wisdom and the grace-filled gift of insight. My acquaintance with him began as follows. Almost every year I had to travel from Moscow to my Penza village, and for a long time I had long wanted, during these trips, to visit the Sarov hermitage, famous for the exemplary piety of the monks, and I especially wanted to accept the blessing from the famous elder Seraphim. My wish finally came true, and I was able to visit Sarov. I arrived there in the evening and, leaving the carriage at the hotel, hurried to the monastery, but did not find Elder Seraphim there. He was in his desert. I hurried there and, walking half a mile away from the monastery, to my greatest joy I saw him himself coming towards me, on the way to the monastery. I approached him and asked for his blessing. The elder blessed me and asked who I was. I didn’t give my last name, saying I was just a passing person. Then he hugged me and kissed me, saying: “Christ is risen!” - and then asked if I was reading the Gospel, and to my affirmative answer he said: “Read often the following words in this Divine book: come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me that I am meek and lowly in heart: and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30). Having said these words, he hugged me again with tears. On the way, he talked with me about the future life and about various trials that would happen to me, which all came true in due time. Arriving at the monastery, he invited me to his cell, gave me holy water to drink and gave me a handful of crackers. Saying goodbye to me, he asked how long I would stay in the monastery. I replied that I expected to leave tomorrow, after early mass. Then he told me with inexpressible love that, having fallen in love with me, he wanted to see me again tomorrow after early mass, and therefore he would not go to the hermitage tomorrow, but would stay in the monastery. I fulfilled his wish with complete joy, and when the next day, after early mass, I approached the elder’s cell, I saw that he had already come out to meet me on the porch of his cell. He hugged me, blessed me and led me into the cell. Here again he gave me holy water to drink, gave me crackers and, blessing me on the way, advised me again to read more often the above words from the Holy Gospel and also the Creed, in which I asked to pay special attention to the twelfth member. Then we parted. The memory of this meeting of mine with the elder and of the subsequent conversations during my other visits to Sarov always serves as the greatest pleasure for me. Memoir of the Simbirsk landowner E.N. Pazukhina From early childhood I heard a lot about the insight and holiness of the Sarov recluse and hermit Father Seraphim, and therefore I really wanted to look at him and accept his blessing. My desire was finally fulfilled, by the grace of God, in 1830. In Arzamas, on the way to the Sarov monastery, the owners of the apartment where I was staying told me that if I did not make it to Sarov in time for early mass on the coming Sunday, I would not see Father Seraphim, because after early mass he usually goes to his hermitage and remains there until Wednesday. Since the weather was very difficult at that time, and my health was poor, then, feeling unable to look for Father Seraphim in his forest hermitage, I immediately, without resting in Arzamas, set off on the road. It was Saturday afternoon. I drove all night and the next morning I was already in Sarov. My first question upon entering the hotel was: was early mass over? And when the monk announced to me that mass was already over, I completely lost heart, losing hope of seeing Father Seraphim. But the Lord God was pleased to console me and prevent me from becoming despondent. Together with many other visitors to Sarov, I went to the elder’s cell, and we found that the cell door was locked from the inside. This was a sign that the elder remained at home, and we decided to ask him for his blessing to see him and be consoled by his soul-saving word. But none of us dared to be the first to say a prayer. Some tried, but the door did not open. Finally, I turned to the lady standing next to me, right at the door, with her little daughter, so that she would make the little one say a prayer, saying that she was more worthy than all of us. And as soon as the little one said a prayer, at that very moment the door opened. But what was our common fear when Father Seraphim, having opened the door, began to close it again. I stood closest to the doors and fell into complete despair, thinking: Lord! It’s true that I’m more unworthy than anyone else, that when he saw me, he decided to shut himself up again. But as soon as I thought this, Father Seraphim, standing in the half-closed door, turned to me and said: “Calm down, mother, calm down, be patient a little,” and after that, opening the door a second time, he turned to me again and asked: “Please, mother; tell me, what is your need? What do you want? I cried with joy and told him that I had one desire - to accept his blessing and ask for his holy prayers. Then he immediately blessed me and said: “The Lord bless you; His grace is with you." And at the same time he granted me three pieces of prosphora. After this, he began to bless others who approached him, and to each, after blessing, he said: “Come with God.” He didn’t tell me this, and that’s why I stayed in my place. Seeing me alone, left after everyone had left, he graciously said to me: “After Vespers, Mother, come to me,” and then closed himself off again. Upon returning to the hotel, I ordered my woman to cut into smaller pieces the pieces of prosphora given to me by Father Seraphim. When I arrived home, I wanted to give them to everyone who was zealous for the elder. Then, with the greatest impatience, I began to wait for Vespers in order to go to Father Seraphim and bring him the gift I had brought: some homemade linen, oil and wax candles. But since it turned out that the person whom I instructed to buy candles and oils forgot to fulfill my instructions, I decided to take him the linen and the money prepared for the purchase of oil and candles. They assured me that Father Seraphim did not take anything from anyone, but I thought that if he refused to take these things, then I would give the canvas to the monastery, and with the money the next day I would buy oils and candles. After Vespers, I found the elder in the entryway of his cell, lying on his knees by the coffin. Seeing me, he hastily stood up and, blessing me, said: “Come on, mother, come to me.” At these kind words, hesitating between fear and hope, I dared to hand him the canvas, saying: “Holy Father! Deign to accept, out of my true zeal, this canvas.” And what was my joy when he, taking the canvas from my hands, said: “Thank you, mother, humbly; “Everything is suitable for the church of God.” Then I dared to give money, saying that I didn’t have time to buy oil and candles. He accepted the money with gratitude. When I later told my Father Damascene, a Sarov monk, about this joy, he could not be surprised at such a special mercy of Father Seraphim towards me. My conversation with the elder inspired me, among other things, with the idea of ​​confessing to him the next day, and I reported this desire to Father Damascus. But he said that this desire was decidedly impossible to fulfill. Despite the fact that I thought about it all night and asked God to deign me, a sinner, to confess to the holy elder Seraphim. In the morning I went to see him again, and when my servant opened the door to the vestibule of his cell, I saw the elder again near his coffin. He led me into the cell, ordered me to cross myself and gave me holy water to drink three times, himself bringing it to my lips; then he asked for my handkerchief. I gave him the end of the shawl that I was wearing, and he poured a handful of crackers into it, saying: “Here, mother, don’t bother; This is for distribution, give to those who are diligent.” I immediately remembered what I had done yesterday with the three pieces of prosphora given to me by the elder, and was amazed at his wonderful foresight. After that, with reverence and fear, so as not to offend the righteous elder, I dared to announce to him my desire to confess to him, saying: “Holy Father! Let me tell you one word." He answered: “If you please, mother,” and suddenly, to my inexpressible surprise and horror, and at the same time joy, he took me by both hands and began to read the prayer: “God, weaken, forgive, forgive me my sins, the great ones who have sinned,” etc. I repeated this prayer after him, sobbing loudly, then fell to my knees; and he also knelt down next to me, and throughout the reading of this prayer he held my hands. After taking leave, which is usually done after confession, he gave me to venerate his copper cross and, taking my right hand, said: “The grace of Our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the Father, and the communion of the Holy Spirit, be with you throughout your entire life, at your death, and after your dormition.” I was overjoyed and kissed his hands. After blessing me on my way back, he said: “The Lord will help you.” And indeed, through his holy prayers, the Lord allowed me to get home safely, while around me, everywhere, severe cholera was then raging. I must also say about one event, how the Lord God heard the prayer of the righteous elder Seraphim. My woman had many children, but they all died in the first year of their age. The poor mother asked me convincingly to take her, with her last newborn daughter, with me to the Sarov Hermitage. I promised to fulfill her request, and on my first trip to Sarov I took them with me. When the mother brought the girl to Father Seraphim and began to ask him to pray for her, saying that all her children were dying before they reached the age of one year, he put his hand on the child’s head and said: “Take comfort from her.” Indeed, because of the prayers of the righteous man, this girl remained alive, and after her, the children born to this woman died again. I had three small children, and I grumbled very much about my bitter lot, about the difficulty of raising these children. Having heard enough about the mercies of Father Seraphim, I finally decided to go to him, tell him about my grief and ask for his blessing. Father Seraphim blessed me and said: “Do not complain about your fate; Your grief will soon end: one will be your breadwinner.” Indeed, according to his prophecy, two of my children died a week later, and I again went to Father Seraphim. Now the elder, anticipating my words, said to me: “Pray to the Intercessor of the Most Holy Theotokos and all the saints, for you have offended them greatly with your oath; Repent of everything to your spiritual father and henceforth tame your anger, so as not to be a great sinner. I bless you for the last time, just forgive them.” After these words, he blessed me, let me kiss his cross and went to his cell. Memoirs of Captain A.V.T. I used to go annually to the Sarov hermitage to visit the righteous elder Seraphim in order to benefit from his soul-saving conversations and receive his blessing. In 1829, in the summer, I also went to Sarov with my wife and children. My dear wife, seeing that our eldest son, who was about ten years old, was engaged exclusively in reading sacred books, not paying any attention to his surroundings, began to complain that our children were too attached to the sacred books alone and that they did not at all care about their lessons, about the sciences and about other things necessary in the world. Upon arrival in Sarov, we immediately went to Father Seraphim and were received by him very kindly. Blessing me, he said that we should stay here for three days, blessing my wife, he said: “Mother! Mother! Don’t rush to teach your children French and German, but prepare their souls first, and everything else will come to them later.” Blessing both of our children, he deigned to call the eldest “his treasure.” Thus, the righteous elder denounced the unjust grumbling of my wife, and then, throughout his entire life, until his death, he never ceased to warn me regarding all the circumstances, joyful and sad, that happened in our family, strengthening my weak spirit with his fatherly advice. In the same year, 1829, I witnessed the following circumstance from the life of Father Seraphim. One gentleman had the intention of marrying a person whose rank did not correspond to him, and his parents did not agree to this marriage. But that gentleman, knowing that his parents respected Father Seraphim and would not be able, after his approval, to oppose this marriage, first wanted to win the elder over to his side. To do this, having previously prepared evidence for the legality of his intention and even the texts of the Holy Scriptures in case of Father Seraphim’s disagreement, to convince him, he arrived to this righteous elder. And suddenly, to his greatest amazement, he hears that the elder pronounces the name and patronymic of the very person about whom he was thinking of making his requests - that he further tells him the very evidence that he wanted to present to him, and, finally, even those texts of the Holy Scriptures on which he wanted to rely in case the elder disagrees. Struck by this, the gentleman fell silently to his knees before the elder. Father Seraphim, raising him, said to him: “God and the Mother of God and your mother do not like your intention, and this will not happen.” Indeed, from then until now that marriage has not taken place. Upon returning from the elder, this gentleman himself admitted that he had never before believed that there could be righteous people on earth; but that the real one convinced him completely of the righteous life of Father Seraphim. In the winter of 1830, on the occasion of my wife’s illness, we promised to go on a pilgrimage to Tikhvin to the miraculous icon of the Queen of Heaven. But on the very day when we needed to leave, my wife, walking down the stairs from the second floor, tripped and dislocated her knee cup. Although the leg was corrected with the help of a chiropractor, at the slightest movement the cup moved again from its place, so it was impossible for us to ride. However, having faith in the prayers of Father Seraphim, we did not want to delay our trip and set off. On the way, her pain intensified, and this forced me, with all my hope in the mercy of God and the prayers of Father Seraphim, several times to offer my wife to return home. But she didn't agree. And since it was a sacred rule among us not to pass through the Sarov desert without accepting the blessing of Father Seraphim, this time we turned towards him from the main road. We were still far from the monastery, when suddenly the pain in my wife’s leg began to decrease and, as we approached Sarov, it became weaker and weaker, and finally, when we entered the very desert, it stopped completely; the cup settled into place and the tumor disappeared. We appeared to the elder in his cell to receive his blessing, and after blessing us, he ordered us to come to him in the hermitage, to the spring, where we arrived around noon. The elder received us very graciously, gave us water from the spring to drink, gave us two rye crusts for the road to Tikhvin and, blessing us on the way, said: “Come, come, come, the path is smooth.” We remembered the last words of Father Seraphim on the way back from Tikhvin, because although it was in January, in anticipation of the passage of the Sovereign Emperor, the road was so leveled that we did not encounter almost a single bump on it. In the early 30s, cholera appeared in the Yekaterinoslav province and began to cause a high mortality rate on my estate. Suddenly about twenty people fell ill and two of them have already died; the convulsive writhing of others and the general moaning and crying tore my whole soul. In these extreme circumstances, I remembered that Father Seraphim told me several times: “When you are in sorrow, then go to poor Seraphim in his cell, he will pray for you.” This memory prompted my wife and me to mentally turn to the elder so that he would save us from this destructive illness. And that same night, in a dream vision, the elder appears to my wife and orders her to go to the spring, where the miraculous icon of the Mother of God once appeared, take water from there, drink it and wash ourselves and all people with it. This spring, or spring, is located twelve miles from my estate, and I immediately went there in the morning with my whole family, in full confidence in the intercession of the saint of God, Seraphim, for us sinners. We first immersed the cross in the spring, and then we drank and washed ourselves and our people from it. At the same time, they brought a barrel to us from our village, which we filled with this water, and then we all went home. I ordered to gather all the peasants, call a priest, and after the ceremonial blessing of water, distribute this sacred water to everyone and take part of it to the hospital, where many were already dying. All of them, by the mercy of God, recovered soon, using exclusively this water, and no one has died on my estate since then. In particular, we were all surprised and forced to thank God for the mercy of one seventy-year old woman. She also fell ill with cholera and was already in a hopeless condition. But when her neighbor, a peasant, forcibly poured water into her mouth (because she was in a stupor) and then poured the rest of the water on her from the bottle, she fell into insensibility, then, after a few minutes, profuse sweat appeared on her, and after an hour, no more, the old woman was out of any danger. In 1834, after the death of Father Seraphim, I was, as usual, in the Sarov Hermitage with my family. My three-year-old daughter at that time had pain in her legs and could hardly stand. Therefore, after serving a memorial service at the grave of Father Seraphim, we all went to his hermitage to the source, and carried the child in our arms, firmly believing that the Lord, for the prayers of the elder, would have mercy on the sick woman. There we drank from this spring, washed ourselves and washed the child’s feet. Then, taking this water, they went to the monastery with the intention of serving a prayer service over it. But even before the prayer service, we saw God’s mercy over us. When we entered the monastery through the back gate, from the side of the horse yard, suddenly the girl asked to be taken from the nanny’s arms, with the clear intention of going herself. The nanny resisted this for a long time, finally decided to let her in and, taking her hand, led her. But the girl pulled her hand away and ran on her own, to our general amazement. Delighted by this miraculous healing, we all hurried to the grave of the saint of God and with tears thanked him for his merciful intercession for us sinners. After serving a prayer service to the life-giving spring, we returned home, all healthy. In 1846 my second son sprained his leg and suffered from this disease for about two years. Meanwhile, the time has come to assign children to the service of the Tsar and the Fatherland. Then, firmly relying on the intercession and help of Father Seraphim, who had already shown so many benefits to my family, I went with them, as usual, to the Sarov hermitage. Having first served a memorial service at the grave of the righteous man, I took the children to its source, despite the harsh time and deep snow (this was December 21, 1848). Upon arrival there, we first prayed in front of the icons at the source for God’s blessing to be sent down on us for the prayers of Elder Seraphim, then we drank this water and washed ourselves with it; and my second son also washed his sore leg; finally we returned to the hotel. A few hours later, my children again asked me for permission to go to the source. The younger son took a bottle with him and on the way, despite the pain in his leg and the tightness of the road, overtook his older brother and, arriving at the source before him, scooped up a bottle of water from the source, undressed and doused himself with this water from head to toe; then he got dressed and knelt before the icons in the chapel at the source, asking God to have mercy on him for the prayers of Father Seraphim. His elder brother followed his example, and both, according to their faith, prayed in this position for quite a long time, not only not feeling any cold, but even feeling a little sweat. So the Lord accepted their zeal and had mercy on their childish jealousy! At the end of the prayer, they got dressed and returned to my hotel. My youngest son then told me with admiration that he no longer felt any pain in his leg. Indeed, at the intercession of the saint of God Seraphim, he has since become completely healthy and now serves in one of the cavalry regiments. In the same year, 1848, while I was in Taganrog, one local tradesman, a Greek, asked me to save things from a ship that had run aground twenty-five versts from the city. I called twelve hunters, or so-called wanderers, and sent them with this Greek to the ship. But they no longer found anything there except an anchor and a sail, because the owners were no longer on the ship with these things; They drove back, but on the road they were overtaken by such a storm with thick snow, with a dark and north wind, that they sailed at random and landed three miles from Taganrog on a man-made island. But as soon as they got off the boat, the wind became even stronger and began to break the boat. Then the ataman of the wanderers, seeing that in such a terrible storm it was impossible to find a safe shelter in the open air, rushed with one comrade onto the boat, cut off the anchor rope and set off according to the signs known to him to the shore. But, instead of landing on him near the city, he could barely land ten miles away and let me know about the fate of his comrades already at three o’clock in the morning. Meanwhile, the storm intensified more and more, and I considered the remaining wanderers completely lost, because they had neither warm clothes nor food. There was only hope left in God and his saints, as well as in the ever-present benefactor Father Seraphim, and I asked his prayers before the Lord for the perishing people. The morning passed, but no help could be given, because no one dared to risk their lives in such a stormy time. Another whole day passed, but the storm not only did not subside, but seemed to double its severity. Sorrow and despondency took possession of my soul, although some inner voice constantly told me: “Pray, you will be saved!” The next morning, the storm little by little began to subside, but the fallen snow, mixed with water, formed a rather strong mass during the former frost, which extended from the very shore to the bulk island where the poor wanderers remained. It was impossible to go there through this mass; there was only one thing left to do - to break through it on longboats, breaking the frozen snow. The newly hired wanderers, with the help of God, finally reached the island and, to everyone’s surprise and joy, found all eleven people there alive and without suffering any harm. At three o'clock in the afternoon they all returned to the shore, warmed up and satisfied their hunger. I attribute such a miraculous salvation to the prayers and intercession of Elder Seraphim. Memoirs of Ivan Yakovlevich Karataev In October 1830, I was sent from the Kursk province, where our regiment was quartered, for repairs. In Kursk and on the way, I heard a lot about the exploits of the elders of the Sarov desert Nazarius, Mark and others, in particular they told me a lot about the great ascetic of that desert, the recluse and hermit Hieromonk Seraphim, about his holy life, about his wonderful predictions, about the gift of healing all kinds of diseases, physical and mental, and about his extraordinary insight. These stories warmed my heart so much that I decided to definitely stop by on the way to Sarov. But when I was near the Sarov desert itself, the enemy confused me with fear of the foresight of Elder Seraphim. It seemed to me that the elder would solemnly convict me of all my sins, especially my error regarding the veneration of holy icons. I thought that an icon painted by the hand of a person, even perhaps a sinner, cannot be pleasing to God, therefore, cannot contain the miraculous grace of God and therefore should not be the subject of our veneration and reverence. Out of weakness and cowardice, I completely submitted to the fear of reproof from the perspicacious old man and drove past the Sarov desert. The next year, in March, when our troops moved to the Polish border, I returned to my regiment, on the orders of my superiors. My path again lay past the Sarov desert, and now I decided, on the advice of my father, to visit Father Seraphim. When I walked from the hotel to the elder’s cell, suddenly the fear that had dominated me until that time changed to some kind of quiet joy, and I fell in love with Father Seraphim in absentia. Near his cell there were already many people who had come to him for a blessing. Father Seraphim, blessing others, looked at me and gave me a sign with his hand to go to him. I carried out his orders with fear and love, bowed at his feet, asking for his blessing on the road and on the upcoming war and that he would pray for the preservation of my life. Father Seraphim blessed me with his copper cross, which hung on his chest, and, having kissed me, began to confess me, himself telling me my sins, as if they had been committed in his presence. At the end of this comforting confession, he told me: “We must not submit to the fear that the devil brings to young men, but then we must be especially alert in spirit and, casting aside cowardice, remember that although we are sinners, we are all under the grace of our Redeemer, without whose will not a single hair will fall from our head.” Following this, he began to talk about my delusion regarding the veneration of holy icons: “How bad and harmful it is for us to desire to explore the mysteries of God, inaccessible to the weak human mind, for example: how the grace of God works through holy icons, how it heals sinners like you and me,” he added, “and not only their body, but also their soul; so that sinners, by faith in the grace of Christ found in them, were saved and achieved the Kingdom of Heaven.” Then, in confirmation of the veneration of holy icons, he gave the example that “even in the Old Testament, at the Icon of the Covenant, there were golden Cherubim; and in the New Testament church, the Evangelist Luke painted the face of the Mother of God, and the Savior himself left His image not made by hands.” Finally, in conclusion, he said that “there is no need to heed such blasphemous thoughts, for which eternal execution awaits the spirit of lies and his accomplices on the day of the Last Judgment.” He spoke many other soul-saving words then for my edification, but I don’t remember them all. He said that “the temptations of the devil are like a cobweb; that all you have to do is blow on it, and it is destroyed; That’s how it is with the enemy of the devil, you just have to protect yourself with faith with the sign of the cross, and all his intrigues disappear completely.” He also said that “all the saints were subject to temptation, but like gold, the more it can lie in the fire, the purer it becomes, and the saints became more skillful from temptation, with patience they appeased the justice of the Creator and drew closer to Christ, in whose name and for whose love they endured.” And finally, he repeated several times that “we must, according to the word of the Savior, enter the Kingdom of God by a narrow path.” Listening to Father Seraphim, I forgot about my earthly existence. The soldiers returning with me to the regiment were also honored to accept his blessing, and he, giving them instructions on this occasion, predicted that not one of them would die in battle, which actually came true. None of them were even wounded. When leaving Father Seraphim, I placed three rubles on the candles next to him. But the enemy the devil, envying the peace of my conscience at that time, gave me the following thought: why does the Holy Father need money? This enemy thought confused me, and I hastened to repent and ask for forgiveness for it to Father Seraphim. But God clearly punished me for allowing such an ungodly thought to occur to me even for a minute. Walking near Father Seraphim’s cell, I could not recognize it and was forced to ask the monk who was walking towards him where Father Seraphim’s cell was. The monk, probably surprised by my question, pointed it out to me. I went in with prayer to the elder, and he, warning my words, told me the following parable: “During the war with the Gauls, one military leader had to lose his right hand; but this hand gave some hermit three coins for the holy Church, and through the prayers of the Holy Church the Lord saved her. Understand this well and in future do not repent of your good deeds. Your money will go to the organization of the Diveyevo community, for your health.” Then Father Seraphim confessed me again, kissed me, blessed me and gave me a few prosphora crackers to eat and holy water to drink, which he poured for me, and said: “May the evil spirit that came upon the servant of God John be pampered by the grace of God.” The elder gave me crackers and holy water for the journey, and on top of that, prosphora, which he himself put in my cap. Setting out on the journey, I asked Father Seraphim if he would order me to say something to his brother and other relatives in Kursk, but Father Seraphim pointed me to the faces of the Savior and the Mother of God and said with a smile: “Here are my relatives! For my earthly relatives I am a living dead!” Finally, receiving the last blessing from him, I asked him not to leave me with his holy prayers. To this he said: “Put your trust in God and ask for His help; Yes, learn to forgive your neighbors, and you will be given everything you ask for.” During the continuation of the Polish company, I was in many battles, and the Lord saved me everywhere through the prayers of his righteous man. At the end of the war, in February 1833, I was returning home on vacation and again stopped in Sarov, but no longer found Father Seraphim alive. The news of his death outraged my entire soul, and I accepted it as punishment for my sins. But, having served a memorial service at his grave, I suddenly felt such peace in my soul that it seemed as if through him himself I had received forgiveness of sins and a promise to pray for me at the throne of the Most High. In the same year, for the prayers of Father Seraphim, whom I called for help in a moment of danger, I was saved from robbers who attacked me on the road during my return to the regiment from home leave. Father Seraphim, through the gift of clairvoyance, knew in spirit many of Christ’s contemporary ascetics, without being personally acquainted with them. Among other things, he sent those who often came to him to the priest of the village of Basurman, Simbirsk province, Kurmysh district, Father Alexei Gnevashev. Father Seraphim revered him as a high ascetic and sometimes called him “a candle lit before the throne of God,” sometimes “a star on the Christian horizon” or “a worker who, even without a monastic oath, is higher than many ascetics.” It is remarkable that Father Alexey, not only in his holiness of life, but also in his character, habits and even facial features, was very similar to Father Seraphim. He died at the age of 85, on April 21, 1848. Memoirs of the Kharkov provision official S.S.M. In July 1843, I sent my wife to the Sarov Hermitage to venerate the miraculous icon of the Dormition of the Mother of God and to meet with her brother, a monk of that hermitage, while I myself, being completely healthy, continued to engage in service, as usual, in the office of the Kharkov Provisions Distance. But a few days later I suddenly became very ill. One day, upon arriving home from the office, I lay down on my bed and began reading a book while waiting for lunch. When they called me to the table and I began to get out of bed, I suddenly felt an unbearable pain in the knee of my left leg. I screamed and fell onto the bed unconscious. The people in the house were frightened and immediately sent for a doctor and a food official. The doctor arrived and ordered up to fifty leeches to be immediately applied to my sore leg, and this calmed me down somewhat. On the third day, the pain intensified again so much that the corrective position of remote caretaker of provision stores in the Kharkov province, Mr. Boguslavsky, ordered me to be sent for better treatment to the Kharkov city hospital, and I lay there for more than a month. The doctors tried their best to take care of me, but everything was unsuccessful. When, exhausted by this pain, I asked them if I could ever hope to recover, they told me that I needed to have an operation. But I did not agree to this and wished to better prepare myself in a Christian way for death. I had already confessed and received the Holy Mysteries of Christ, and Mr. Boguslavsky came to say goodbye to me, when suddenly my wife arrived from Sarov. Having learned about my illness, she rushed to the hospital and persuaded me to be discharged. With the greatest difficulty, almost half dead, they brought me home. My wife immediately invited me to drink the water she had brought from the Sarov desert, from a spring dug by the hands of the elder of Sarov Seraphim, in the local forest, and to pour it on my sore leg. I agreed, but was curious to find out first about this wonderful husband and about those pebbles that my wife put in a glass of water. Then she told me about the strict ascetic life of Father Seraphim, how during his lifetime he healed everyone who asked him for help, and after his death he miraculously helped everyone who came running to him, and, finally, how he stood on a stone in the forest for a thousand nights in a feat of prayer; and in conclusion she again asked me to drink this water with faith and pour it on my sore leg. I crossed myself and, trusting in the mercy of God and in the prayers of the great ascetic of our times, I followed my wife’s advice and soon after fell asleep. My sleep was the most sound and lasted from two hours in the afternoon until late at night. When I woke up, I felt, to my greatest joy, that my pain began to subside, but at the same time it occurred to me that before death a person always feels relief in illness. This thought did not allow me to sleep, but then I fell asleep again and slept peacefully until the morning, which has not happened to me for a long time. In the morning, not feeling any pain in my leg, I finally decided to get out of bed. He stood up and very quietly walked to the chair where he sat down. I myself almost did not believe with joy such an unexpected and quick recovery, and together with my wife, with all the fullness of my heart, I thanked the merciful Lord, His Most Pure Mother and Father Seraphim for their great mercies towards us sinners. Soon after that I became completely healthy and began to fulfill my assigned duty again. In 1832, on the day of the Nativity of Christ, I was privileged to see Father Seraphim in the Sarov desert. I came to the hospital church for early mass, even before the service began, and saw that Father Seraphim was sitting on the right choir, on the floor. I immediately approached him for a blessing, and he, having blessed me, hurriedly went to the altar, answering my request to talk with him: “After, after!” At the end of mass, when I approached him again, he greeted me with the words: “All good will come through the prayers of the Most Holy Theotokos!” Then I dared to ask him to assign me a time to listen to his saving advice. The elder answered me like this: “Two days of the holiday. There is no need to set a time. The Holy Apostle James, the brother of God, teaches us: as soon as the Lord wills, we will live and do this and that.” I brought my daughter Vera to him, and he, having blessed us, gave us both a share of crackers. Finally, having prepared in advance the questions that I wanted to propose to the elder, I came to his cell. He met me in the entryway, accepted the candles and oil I had brought, on behalf of others, and blessed me to talk with him. I asked him: should I continue my service or live in the village? Father Seraphim answered: “You are still young, serve.” “But my service is not good,” I objected. “This is from your will,” answered the elder. - Do good; the way of the Lord is all the same! The enemy will be with you everywhere. Whoever partakes will be saved everywhere; and whoever does not partake, I don’t remember. Where the master is, there will be a servant. Humble yourself, maintain peace, don’t be angry for anything.” I also asked: will my business end well? The elder answered: “It is necessary to share amicably with relatives who have something to share. Two siblings had two lakes, one had everything multiply, but the other did not. He wanted to take control of the war. One of the fields needs twelve fathoms, and the other more. Don't wish." After that I asked: should children be taught languages ​​and other sciences? And he answered: “What’s the harm in knowing something?” I, a sinner, thought, reasoning in a worldly way, that, however, he himself needed to be a scientist in order to answer this; and immediately heard a reproof from the perspicacious old man: “Where can I, a child, answer this against your reason? Ask someone smarter." In the evening, when I came to him, his first word was: “It’s better to leave the conversation. Let us give God an answer for every idle word.” But I begged him to continue the saving conversation and asked him the following question: hiding deeds undertaken in the name of the Lord, in a case where you know that you will receive ridicule rather than praise for them, is not it similar to the rejection of Peter; and what to do in case of contradictions? The elder answered me this way: “The Holy Apostle Paul in his letter to Timothy says: drink wine instead of water, and after this follows: do not get drunk with wine. This requires intelligence. Do not blow the trumpet, but where necessary, do not remain silent.” I also asked: what will he order me to read? And he received the answer: “The Gospel was conceived four times a day, each evangelist conceived; and also the life of Job. Although his wife told him: it was better to die, but he endured everything and was saved. Don’t forget to send gifts to those who have offended you.” He answered my questions about whether illnesses should be treated and how to spend life in general. “Illness cleanses sins. However, it is your will. Take the middle path; Don’t try beyond your strength, you will fall, and the enemy will laugh at you; Son is still young, hold on. One day the devil invited a righteous man to jump into a pit; he agreed, but Gregory the Theologian restrained him. This is what you do: if they reproach you, do not reproach them; persecuted - be patient; blaspheme - praise; condemn yourself, so God will not condemn, submit your will to the will of the Lord; never flatter; know good and evil in yourself: blessed is the man who knows this. Love your neighbor: your neighbor is your flesh. If you live according to the flesh, you will destroy both soul and flesh; and if according to God, then you will save both. These feats are greater than going to Kiev or further, whomever God calls.” The last words of Father Seraphim related to my desire to go on pilgrimage to Kyiv and beyond, if he blesses me. However, I had not yet revealed this desire to him, and Father Seraphim learned about it solely through the gift of insight that he had by the grace of God. After that, I asked the elder: is a person obliged, in order to maintain his title, to be involved in costs that exceed his income and are not necessary for people? He answered: “Whoever can; but better than God sent. Bread and water are enough for a person. It was like that before the flood." I also asked: should pleasing people extend to those cases that do not agree with the will of God, for example, spending time idle, etc. To this, Father Seraphim objected: “Many have died for this love: whoever does not do good sins. We must love everyone, and most of all, God.” I asked him to pray for me; he answered: “I pray for everyone every day. Create peace of mind so as not to upset anyone and not be upset with anyone; then God will give tears of repentance”; and again confirmed: “If they reproach, do not reproach,” etc. To my question: how can I preserve the morality of the people subordinate to me, and are not, apparently, legal punishments disgusting to God? - he answered: “With graces, lightening of labor, and not with wounds. Give me something to drink, feed, be fair. The Lord endures; God knows, maybe he will endure the eighth thousand yet. You do this; God still forgives, and you forgive too. Keep your peace of mind. So that there is no quarrel in your family over anything, then it will be good. Isaac, Abraham's son, was not angry when his wells were filled up, and went away; and then they began to ask him to come to them, when the Lord God blessed him with a hundredfold fruit of barley.” I also asked Father Seraphim about the danger of the current advice and whether it is possible to trust the teachings of others. He answered: “This is for you, unrenewed ones,” and smiled: “One Guardian Angel, given to us from the holy font, is enough. If anyone has anger, don’t listen; If anyone keeps virginity, the Spirit of God accepts them. However, have your own reason and read the Gospel.” I asked Father Seraphim to interpret the dream for me: I saw someone who ordered me to build a church. Father Seraphim told me: “This is your own desire, and if God chose you for this and need demands it, then with God! By your patience gain your souls, then you will be like God, otherwise I don’t think anyone will be saved.” I asked the elder: is it necessary to pray to God for deliverance from dangerous cases? The elder answered: “The Gospel says: when you pray, do not say too much: For this is your Father’s message, you require them before you ask. Therefore you pray: Our Father and so on, here is the grace of the Lord; and what the Holy Church accepted and kissed, everything should be kind to the heart of a Christian. Don't forget holidays; be abstinent; go to church unless you are weak; pray for everyone: you will do a lot of good; give candles, wine and oil to the church: alms will do you a lot of good.” Whether for fasting, marriage, etc., it is said: “The Kingdom of God is not food or drink; but truth, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit"? Father Seraphim said: “Only you don’t need to desire anything, but everything of God is good: virginity is glorious, and fasting is needed to defeat enemies of body and soul. And the marriage is blessed by God, and God bless them, saying: grow and multiply. Only the enemy confuses everything.” To my question about the spirit of suspiciousness and blasphemous thoughts, he answered: “You can’t convince an infidel. This is from myself. Buy the Psalter, everything is there. It costs three rubles." I asked him: is it possible to eat fasting foods, if fasting foods are harmful to someone and doctors order them to eat fasting foods? The elder answered: “Bread and water are not harmful to anyone. How did people live for a hundred years? Man will not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. And what the Church laid down at the seven Ecumenical Councils, then fulfill. Woe to him who adds or subtracts one word from this. What do doctors say about the righteous who healed rotting wounds with one touch, and about the rod of Moses, with which God brought water out of a stone? What good is it to a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul? The Lord calls us: come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest: for My yoke is easy and My burden is light, but we ourselves do not want to.” How, I asked, can destroy pride and acquire humility? He answered: “Silence. God said to Isaiah, “On whom will I look, but to him who is meek and silent and trembles at my words.” Regarding spiritual pride, he added: ask God to extend your years. You can't do this without difficulty. Great sins are overcome by silence.” Throughout our conversation, Father Seraphim was extremely cheerful. He stood leaning on the oak coffin he had prepared for himself, and held a lit wax candle in his hands. Starting to answer, he often greeted me with the words: “Your love for God!” About my daughter he said: “She has a difficult path: she will marry such a husband that he will not even know God.” When he said goodbye to me, he thanked me for visiting his squalor, as he himself put it. While blessing, he even wanted to kiss my hand; he bowed to me all the way to the ground and, giving me crackers, ordered me to share them with my subordinates; and finally, letting go, he said: “Come with God! These crackers are fresh: just out of the oven.” To further glorify the wonderful gift of insight in the gracious old man Father Seraphim, it is necessary to explain that I did not have the opportunity to question him in such detail and remember all his answers. Moreover, he spoke extremely hastily. To do this, I previously wrote all my questions on paper for memory. And I barely had time to read them to the elder when I immediately received answers to them from him. The story of Archpriest Vasily Konobeevsky In the forest village of Konobeev, where my parent Archpriest Dimitri Afanasyevich (died in 1857) served as priest, there were two churches of a wooden building; Father Seraphim prophesied to his parent four years earlier that these churches would fall; my parent, being strong in spirit and versed in the Holy Scriptures, answered these words: our churches are of a strong building and on stone foundations, so it is difficult for them to collapse. But Seraphim also repeated: “No, they will fall.” The parent, after thinking a little, says to him: “You, Father Seraphim, deign to speak about my bodily church” - and cited the words of the Apostle Paul to this (1 Cor. 6:19). He repeats: “I am talking about material churches, and you will build a church of a stone building.” To this my parent replied that he was not able to do this. Seraphim says to him: “The Kazan Queen of Heaven helps you, and your landowner will not leave you there; during the construction of the church, the archpastors in the cities will offer you archpriestly places; you do not agree to move from your village, do not exchange temporary glory for eternal glory.” And indeed, four years later, both wooden churches burned down due to a strong fire and even the entire village of Konobeevo burned out; this was in 1828. After that, my parent placed all his hope in the speedy Patroness. Leaving his family, of which two sons and two daughters were unemployed at that time, and agriculture, he went to Tambov to see His Eminence Eugene, asked for his blessing and requested from the Spiritual Consistory a collection book for the construction of a new stone church. For this purpose, he traveled for seven years to different provinces, was in Moscow up to two times, and with the help of the Queen of Heaven, the very next year after the fire, he founded the church of a stone building. The landowner, depending on how much money the parent collected per year according to the collection book, ordered from his office to give out a portion equal to a third of this collection for the construction of the church. Thus, with the help of the Queen of Heaven in 1835, a real, magnificent church was already built and consecrated in honor of the Renewal of the Church of the Resurrection of Christ, and two chapels were consecrated even earlier, the first in honor of the Holy Trinity, the second in honor of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God. During the construction of the church, indeed, my parent was offered archpriestly positions in the cities, but he, remembering the words of Father Seraphim, did not dare to leave this village, obeying the advice of Father Seraphim. Here's another case of serendipity. My parent wanted that of our two sons, one would be in his priestly place (the third son was much older and had already entered monasticism at that time), so my parent asked Father Seraphim about me and about my middle brother (at that time we were studying with him in the lower grades): who would he bless to be in his place? Father Seraphim asks the parent: “Who do you want?” - “Nikolai.” - "No. Your youngest son will take your place.” Indeed, I, a sinner, entered the parent’s place. At first I was at the church on the full side of Konobeev, and my parent remained at his own church, which he had built. (These two sides are separated only by the Tsna River.) When his strength weakened, the parent gave up his place to me, and he himself remained in the position of dean. The story of Balaklava Archimandrite Nikon (the brother of Archpriest Konobeevsky) Even in my youth, before completing the seminary course in 1827, in the month of August, by order of the Elder of God, Father Seraphim, I lived in the Sarov Hermitage for up to three weeks and during this time I was repeatedly awarded a cell conversation with Father Seraphim. He told me: “Why do you want to become a monk? You probably abhor marriage.” To this I answered: “I have never had bad thoughts about the Holy Sacrament of Marriage, but I want to become a monk for the purpose of serving the Lord more conveniently.” After this, putting on the stole, the elder said: “Blessed is your path! But look - write my following words not on paper, but on your heart: 1. Sweep your hut every day and have a good broom. (Of course, the purification of the soul through repentance.) 2. Set up a samovar in the morning and evening, and heat the water, adding coals: for hot water cleanses both body and soul (we are talking about warmth of the heart). 3. Learn mental prayer from the heart, as the Holy Fathers teach in the Philokalia; for the Jesus Prayer is a lamp to our paths and a guiding star to heaven. 4. Learn to pray through nostril breathing with closed lips. This art is a scourge against the flesh and carnal lusts. 5. Add to the ordinary Jesus Prayer: “Blessed Virgin Mary, have mercy on me.” 6. External prayer alone is not enough. God listens to the mind, and therefore those monks who do not connect external prayer with internal prayer are not monks, but black brands. 7. Fear the anointed jackdaws (women) like the fire of hell, for they often make the royal soldiers slaves of Satan. 8. Remember that the true monastic mantle is a welcoming tolerance of slander and falsehoods: there is no sorrow, there is no salvation. 9. Do everything slowly, lightly and not suddenly; Virtue is not a pear; you can’t suddenly eat it.” In another conversation, Father Seraphim said: “I know your father. Your village and two churches with bell towers will burn down, and your father is destined to build a new magnificent stone church with a bell tower and two wings; there will be an outbuilding for the poor on the western side, and after the second fire he himself will have to live in one of them.” All the predictions of the Elder of God came true. The village and churches burned down in 1828, and in the 40s there was a secondary fire, in which the house of his parent, Archpriest Konobeevsky, burned down, and he was forced to live for a long time in the built outbuilding of the church. "Do you have a cousin?" – asked Father Seraphim. “He studies at the Academy; he was born with a sac. He will continue to pickle and salt until his death.” This dear prediction of his applied to His Eminence Philaret of Chernigov. “Do you have a sick niece with you? Bring her to me tomorrow." The next day I took with me my niece, a girl of fourteen years old, and brought her into Father Seraphim’s cell, and he took a vessel with oil, anointed her forehead, eyes, ears, hands, saying: “The servant of God, the nun, will be anointed. (This girl was tonsured a nun at the Tambov Maiden Convent.) Farewell! Come to me in nine days.” This was a sad time for me, for blasphemous thoughts attacked me, so that it was impossible to enter the church; I wanted to leave the desert, but Hieromonk Hilarion held me back, saying: the elder knows what he is doing. At the end of nine days, exhausted by the enemy’s excuses, I could barely enter the hallway and, approaching his cell, before I could say a prayer, Father Seraphim opened the door and fell at my feet, saying: “Forgive me for the temptation by which you suffered; it is so that you know that you will have such sorrows when becoming a monk, but do not lose heart!” After this, putting on an epitrachelion, he confessed me and ordered me to partake of the Holy Mysteries at the late liturgy; and upon accepting them, immediately everything dark moved away from me into darkness. In a farewell conversation, Father Seraphim told me: “When you become a monk, you will have to start from your mother’s cradle, from your diocese; and then you will be sent to a distant place (which came true), but do not be discouraged and sing with a cheerful spirit: “The earth is the Lord’s and its fulfillment.” All the instructions of Father Seraphim were animated by the spirit of anointing; for where can an unlearned person, not enlightened by external sciences, find the depth of spiritual wisdom? His every word reaches the soul and pierces the heart, and therefore is important and significant. Many teach, but knock like blacksmiths with a hammer on an anvil, and the teaching of the unlearned, but anointed, reaches the very brain. Long-term asceticism sanctified the old man’s mind, and the Jesus Prayer united with his heart as much as possible on earth. His instructions about the Jesus Prayer are in all respects similar to the instructions of the Athonite ascetics. They were clear, intelligible, as the fruit of experienced asceticism, and not scientific knowledge. “The book will not teach you,” he told me, “prayer: you must have a strong practice in it.” I very, very much regret that I lost his letters during my wanderings through the valleys and mountains of the Caucasus and Crimea; they were written to me in 1827 and 1828. I only remember that he explained the Jesus Prayer to me through nostril breathing, and also that that monk is not a real monk who does not know the spiritual doing of the Jesus Prayer. These were the instructions of the Elder of God Seraphim. He sowed seed into the hearts of thousands, and it is impossible that such a sower would not produce fruit in the hearts. His prayers were powerful, his heart burned with the flame of heavenly fire. I know from experience that his dear instructions were very useful for me when I entered monasticism; I believe that even beyond the grave he continues to plead for my unworthiness. He once told me: “When you live not far from my grave, then serve a memorial service, and when they send you to a place far away, remember me - it’s useful for me and you.” I remember some more sayings of the elder: 1. Know that the true monastic robe is not the one that monks wear from cloth on their shoulders, but the enduring of slander, troubles and misfortunes. Dressed in this mantle, a true monk will achieve eternal bliss. 2. Always take care of your hood from moths; Trouble, disaster, if a moth gets in the hood: it will ruin and grind everything. 3. People don’t go to war without weapons: so there is no need to become a monk without prayer and patience. The life of a monk from the very beginning until his last breath is a terrible and terrible struggle with the flesh, the world and the devil. So, he is not a monk who likes to lie on his side; He is not a monk who, during a war, falls to the ground from cowardice and surrenders to the enemy without a fight. Elder Seraphim’s last saying to me was: “A fish dies without water, and a monk dies without prayer. Goodbye! We will not see each other again in this life; pray for me, and I will pray for you.” It was August 23, 1828. Indeed, we never saw each other again. The village where the author's grandfather, his mother's father, lived, and where he spent almost all of his childhood. The author received his initial training at the Arzamas district school. Saint Ignatius (Brianchaninov).